#does it drive everyone involved mad ?

[sunlitmiracle]

smashes my current interest together with my old interest (aka yet another "what Dungeon Meshi but Gamers?" AU)

Once when I was a child I had a complete crying meltdown over Creatures, because the manual insisted that the complicated AI of the Norns made them truly alive and 10-year-old me was freaked out at the idea of being solely responsible for making sure these real animals wouldn't die. The funny part was that this was the Playstation version of Creatures, which has no biochemistry and very basic AI compared to the PC/Mac games where players actually were debating whether or not it was true artificial life. A PSX manual gave me existential dread and it wasn't even telling the truth.

Anyway, kid!Marcille would also have a meltdown over the Creatures series, especially if she had the computer games and got to see how vastly different some breeds' lifespans are. Like in C2 where you have Norns that live for around 5 hours and Norns that live for 10, both of which are vastly more than Ettins who don't even live for 1.5 hours (and usually less due to radiation or starvation).

Lucky for her, having the computer version means she could download modified genomes made by other players that make creatures live longer or even outright remove certain death triggers. However I think she'd have more fun learning to read and edit the genomes herself, to get a better understanding of how the game works and how to change it to suit her own tastes. And because she could pretend she's one of the mysterious ancient Shee who created the Norns, Grendels, and Ettins and then vanished, leaving behind relics of their old society.

(Speaking of Grendels, she would unfortunately dislike them because they're the Designated Evil Species and she'd hate how they harass and attack her Norns. I think she'd also pity them though, because they get sick a lot and have short lifespans. Likely she'd just end up downloading/creating a genome without the aggression towards Norns. Ettins she'd like except for in C3 when they dismantle her meticulously-placed gadget setups, so she might mod out their hoarding compulsions too. Both of them would of course also live for however long her Norns would live.)

Also. While standard creatures' lifespans are counted in hours, if you modify the half-lives in the genome editor you can increase it to centuries. Or even just over a millennium if you set the half-lives to their max length (assuming you also leave the old age death trigger at its vanilla value).

and I like to think that elven Creatures players would pass around copies of what they consider a template genome that's appropriate to their own lifespans. Something that would make their creatures live for weeks or months of continuous play. I also like to think the Creatures DS Warp is still active in this AU because of the hilarious frustration when these long-lived Norns travel to worlds run by short-lived players whose Norns have vanilla lifespans, and vice versa.

(Most of the time in Creatures, offspring of parents with different lifespans will just have one or the other, but there's a chance the genes cross over right in the middle of the various age triggers and cause unstable aging rates. Like a Norn that goes through the childhood stages in hours but then has a very extended adulthood. Or a days-long childhood followed by suddenly dropping dead of old age once the vanilla adulthood genes kick in. Or, if the child has one parent's half-life decay rate and the other parent's age triggers, all sorts of odd things could happen. I once had hybrid Norns who lived for 20 hours and would die of organ failure before reaching the old age threshold!)

(Now that I think of it, Marcille would absolutely hate fast-agers. The first time she watches a creature hatch, turn old, and die in just one brief minute of life, she would be sobbing for days. One of the first things she'd learn to mod out would be mutations that cause the Ageing/Life chemical to decrease unusually fast.)

On a lighter note, while I don't know what her favorite designs would be I think she'd love choosing cute breeds to use in her world. Once she figured out how to give her creatures the comfortable life she wants them to have I can see her redirecting all her gene-editing efforts into changing color expressions. She might even learn to sprite or model her own custom designs.

[ghostsessioned]

I am a firm believer that they're always up at ridiculous times and will just hit Riley with things if she's not awake

FUNNY YOU SHOULD MENTION THAT, back in 2021 when we got the first few IGN interviews, my wife and i got the idea of sage and riley interacting over a radio station ( 106.3 or 107 as both have important significance ) without the other really knowing who they were talking to, so. yes. they ( mostly sage ) absolutely would throw random shit at she and jacob at ungodly hours

[ashwhowrites]

Can I request an Billy x reader x Eddie fic where either the three of them fight and then make up or Billy made Reader cry and Eddie got mad at him, and he then fixes it? I would love to see more of Mungrove x reader!

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it!! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻Mungrove is getting very fun

2 boyfriends but 1 girlfriend

If there was anything that was a promise when dating Billy Hargrove, it was jealousy. Billy was popular with everyone. The boys idolized him, and the girls crawled at his feet. Billy was a loyal partner, Eddie and Y/N knew that. But Billy never was shy from the attention on him. He loved it. He loved being chased and all the girls swooning at his feet.

It didn't really bother Eddie. Eddie was never bothered by much, he shrugged everything off and moved on. He and Billy barely ever fought about it. But Y/N? She couldn't just shrug it off. It bothered her all the way into her skin and bones. Billy never saw the issue as it wasn't like he cheated. But to Y/N, being involved in flirting felt like cheating.

Saturday night meant date night. It turned out that having to compare three schedules was difficult. Billy always had basketball practice after school, Eddie had his campaign and band practice, and then Fridays were basketball games and singing gigs. But they all vowed that Saturdays would be their day.

It was late May and the weather was getting hot. Billy wanted to take a road trip off to the beach, so they did. The drive didn't feel that long once they pulled into the parking lot.

"We'll go grab a spot, and you unpack the car," Eddie said as he grabbed Y/N's hand. They ran through the hot sand and threw down their towels.

Y/N was basking in the sun as Eddie took dives in the water. She laughed behind her sunglasses as Eddie tried to do tricks for a rating. Usually, Billy would be with Eddie, both boys trying to one-up each other.

"I'M GONNA CHECK ON BILLY, DON'T DROWN," Y/N yelled as she stood up. Eddie gave her a thumbs-up before diving into the water once again. That boy loved to be in the water.

Y/N put on her sandals and began to walk towards the parking lot. She wasn't sure what took Billy so long, but she had a good feeling of why once she caught Billy with his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose and his pearly whites on display.

Y/N walked up slowly, hearing Karen Wheeler flirting with her boyfriend. Billy was leaning close to her, making her laugh.

"Um, babe? You need any help with the stuff?" Y/N asked, she didn't want to sound rude or bitchy. She was more nervous and uncomfortable with the tight feeling in her stomach.

"Got it all handled, sweetie," Billy said, popping his gum. He didn't bother to look behind him at her, his eyes on Karen only.

"Eddie is starting his tricks and waiting for his competition." Y/N hinted she hoped he'd care enough to look at her this time.

"I'll be there in a minute," Billy said, his tone a little angry. Y/N gulped, she did not want to make him mad but she wanted time with her boyfriend.

"Will you be done soon? We've been here for thirty minutes and you know Saturday is o-" But Billy cut her off. He whipped around and his icy blue eyes glared at her.

"I said in a minute. I'm in the middle of a conversation, we have the whole godamn day for you to be on my ass." He snapped, and Y/N nodded. She bit her lip as she felt it tremble. Billy turned back to Karen and Y/N began to walk away. She sniffled as she tried to keep her tears back.

"Clingy one I see," Karen mocked, Billy let out a big laugh.

"You've got no idea."

~

Eddie was back on his towel when Y/N made it back, without Billy.

"Hey sweets, where's Billy? Does he need my help?" Eddie asked, pushing his sunglasses into his hair. He squinted as he looked over at Y/N.

"No, he's fine," Y/N said, her voice shaky as she sat on her towel.

Eddie frowned hearing her voice, he was quick to move his towel right next to her. His wet body against hers as he threw his arm over her shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Eddie asked, he saw his reflection in her sunglasses as she turned to look at him.

"He's too busy to join us because of Karen Wheeler." Y/N sighed, but Eddie knew there was more.

"I'm sorry he's being a dick," Eddie said, his lips pressed against her shoulder.

"Do you think I'm...clingy?" Y/N asked, she pushed her sunglasses into her hair as she looked into Eddie's eyes. His frown deepened as he saw her watery eyes.

"Not at all! Why do you ask?"

"Karen made a comment about it, and Billy laughed and agreed. It hurts when he flirts with every girl that breathes. It makes me insecure. Why am I not pretty enough to keep him from looking at other girls? He never looks at other guys." Y/N ranted, salty tears ran down her cheek.

"Oh, darling. I can't make an excuse for his dumb actions. But I promise you, you are enough. You are pretty enough, smart enough, funny enough, and everything more." Eddie said softly, he wiped away her tears.

"I'm going to swim for a bit." Y/N said, she gave Eddie a soft kiss then left to head into the water.

Eddie flicked down his sunglasses and went right after Billy.

Just like Y/N said, Billy was talking to Karen without a care in the world. Eddie walked up to the car and grabbed a water bottle out of the cooler.

He cut in between Karen and Billy. His back to Billy as he glared at Karen through his sunglasses. He handed her the water with a smirk. "Since you are so thirsty, here's water. Now beat it."

Billy chuckled from behind Eddie as Karen walked away.

"My oh my, someone is hot when they are jealous." Billy teased. Eddie turned around and flicked Billy in the forehead.

"I'm not jealous. I'm pissed off at your attitude towards Y/N." Eddie argued.

"I didn't have an attitude. I asked her to give me a minute." Billy defended. He finally grabbed the stuff from the car and began walking towards the beach.

"I don't give a shit if you asked. You ditched us on our date so you could talk with gross Mrs. Wheeler. You know I don't care about flirting because I know who's dick you'll be sucking on. But it's different with Y/N. She gets insecure and you make her upset." Eddie explained, helping his boyfriend carry everything down into the sand.

"Why is her being insecure my fault? We all knew I was popular with the ladies." Billy scoffed.

Eddie waited until Billy dropped everything on the sand before he punched his arm.

"What the hell!" Billy growled as he rubbed the sore spot.

"It's your fault because she doesn't think she's pretty enough to keep your eyes on just her. News flash Hargrove, if you want to soak in all the attention from the "ladies" then don't be in a relationship." Eddie said, another punch at Billy's other arm.

"DAMMIT!" Billy yelled as he felt another bruise forming.

"That's for making her cry. If you don't see what I see in her, then maybe she isn't meant to be yours, just mine." Eddie glared.

"What? You are gonna take her from me?" Billy questioned. He had to admit, the thought made his stomach hurt.

"No, but I'm going to stop trying to make you a good guy."

~

Billy sighed as he walked into the water. His eyes take in the gorgeous girlfriend of his. Her warm skin and the bright color of her bikini. Water dropped down her hair and created droplets that ran down her back.

She didn't turn around and he kept walking closer. Once he reached her he wrapped his arms around her waist.

His mouth was against her ear, as his chin rested on her shoulder. Her skin was warm from the sun.

"I talked to Eddie. And I'm really sorry I upset you." Billy said softly, he squeezed her body as the waves brushed against his legs.

"It's whatever, Billy. I'll get over it like I always do." Y/N sighed. She groaned when Billy turned her around, now face to face as she held back her tears.

"No, I mean it this time. I'm done with the games and the flirting. Eddie and I don't see it as a big deal, but it means something to you. It hurts you and makes you question yourself. Which I never want you to do. I've been a dick and not appreciating you the way I should be. I'm incredibly lucky to have you as a girlfriend. " Billy kissed her neck, and she tried not to melt.

"My sexy and gorgeous girlfriend," more kisses, "who puts up with me when she shouldn't have to," more kisses, "loves me when I don't deserve it," more kisses, "and truly the only woman I'll ever love." The final kiss landed on her lips and she happily kissed back. Her arms were thrown over his shoulders as his tongue moved inside her mouth.

"Can you forgive me?" Billy whispered against her lips. His blue eyes were nervous and guilty.

"Yes but I swear you flirt with one more girl and I'm going to have Eddie truly kick your ass."

"He wishes, baby." Billy chuckled before kissing her again. His hands landed on her ass as his tongue entered her mouth once again.

~

"Great. Now I got a hard on." Eddie groaned as he used Billy's towel to cover his swim shorts.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt

[muletia]

[tfp] obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader

summary: you had to go on a business trip. optimus doesn't take it too well

cw: obsessed!optimus, hardcore pinning, angst, i wanted to practice writing dialogues and it shows lmao

word count: 1800

an: i want you guys to know that i am reading EVERY reblog and comment from you swirling my hair and kicking my legs like a schoolgirl

you are so real for that anon

When you, out of your own free will, expressed the desire to join him on patrol, Optimus was overjoyed. You rarely got the chance to be together, just the two of you, always consumed by work or saving the world. And although Optimus wouldn’t dare ask you outright to accompany him on patrols (because the last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable), he deeply longed to spend more time with you alone. He knew he was feeding only his own illusions, fueling the machinery of madness, but by this point, he couldn’t stop. Not when you sat comfortably on his seat, gazing at the views outside the window, visibly content with your outing together.

He wanted so badly for this to be your everyday reality. Maybe then he could finally find some relief from his fixation, maybe you would even save him.

"Hey," you started, and his entire attention focused on you. "Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while."

Oh.

Did your feelings match his? Did you feel affection for him as well? Had you noticed his suffering? Or maybe you wanted to reject him, once and for all, to make him understand that his passion was an illusion, that no matter how much he wanted it, the two of you could never be together — too incompatible, too different. That he had developed this coping mechanism, exhausted by the war.

But before Optimus could spiral further, you crushed his hopes.

"The company I work for is sending me on a business trip," you sighed, clearly dissatisfied with the news. "It’s supposed to take two weeks, but you never really know with these trips, especially since they’re sending me across the continent."

"I understand," he replied, his tone not betraying the turmoil within. "What does this business trip involve?"

"Oh, shoot, sorry! I should have explained that right away," you laughed casually as if you hadn’t just delivered news that shattered his spark. "Business trip is assigned by an employer for training sessions, conferences, exhibitions, and other boring stuff. Kind of like a mission, but without explosions, action, or danger."

It was good to hear that you’d be safe, though you would truly be safest only at the base, under his watchful optics.

Pessimistic, ugly thoughts churned in his processor. Of all the things he expected to hear from you, this wasn’t one of them. Suddenly, he feared being alone, feared his own dreams. Because he knew you wouldn’t be there to comfort him after a nightmare, and nothing else could bring him peace.

"I am sorry to hear we will not see each other for two weeks," he said, "but I am confident you will do exceptionally well on this assignment. You are dependable, unyielding. You can handle anything."

"Oh, thank you," you answered, a bit flustered. You hadn’t expected a compliment. "It just makes me sad to leave Jasper. I don’t say it often enough, but I have a wonderful time with all of you. With you."

"Likewise, [Name]. When are you leaving?"

"The day after tomorrow. Tomorrow after work, I’ll say goodbye to everyone else."

So soon. Too soon. He’d hoped you wouldn’t leave until next week, to at least give him time to mentally prepare for the separation, but you denied him that luxury. Not that any amount of time would have prepared him for this.

Slowly, subtly enough that you wouldn’t notice the change, he reduced his speed, prolonging your shared drive.

"I’m not sure I’ll have time to write," you warned. "Unfortunately, they’ve given me a really tight schedule. But! If I can, I’ll write to the kids. Oh, and expect some souvenirs — I’ll bring something back for you all."

"You do not need to spend your valuable time searching for trinkets. But if you insist, I will cherish anything you bring me."

"Aw, don’t worry—it’ll be no trouble." You waved your hand dismissively. "You do so much for me, for the kids, for the whole Earth without asking for anything in return. You deserve something nice."

"I do not protect your planet for glory or offerings."

"I know, I know. That’s very noble. And amazing. So many years, sticking firmly to your values."

He eagerly soaked up your praise, allowing himself, if only for a brief moment, to forget the world around him, to forget his duties, unfulfilled promises, fallen brothers and sisters. He’d never describe himself as 'amazing', nor did he believe the praise his own kind gave him about his greatness. But for you, he could believe it. If only for a moment, a few seconds, so that you’d leave on your mission thinking warmly of your time together and of him.

"Thank you, [Name]. Please know that I value your words tremendously."

"Oh," you blushed, "that’s nice to hear."

Embarrassed, you quickly changed the subject, unaware that Optimus was watching you closely, curious about your reaction. For now, he pushed thoughts of your departure to the back of his processor, wanting to fully enjoy your presence. You recommended songs from the country genre, one of his favorite discoveries on Earth, which he promised to listen to later. He knew well that this would lead to more daydreaming, imagining a future that would never be. Because no matter how hard he tried, his tomorrow would not be entwined with yours. His desires would forever remain mere fantasies born out of desperation, longing, and sorrow.

A week had passed since you left. In the lives of the Autobots, not much had changed because of your absence; they went on with their chaotic schedule. The kids, however, missed you. No more evenings spent helping them with their homework, working on your reports, playing games, or simply chatting. The worst part was that no one really knew what was going on with you. You rarely messaged, didn’t have time to talk, and when you did, it was just to say, "I’m alive, it’s boring, I’ll message you on Thursday." Life continued, despite how much Miko wished she could play games with you instead of doing her homework.

Everyone managed to adapt to your absence.

With one exception.

At first glance, it seemed like Optimus, the bot with whom you shared the closest bond, hadn’t been affected by such a drastic change. Nothing in his behavior indicated any longing. He didn’t express his opinion on the matter, didn’t ask, didn’t demand. As always, he buried his feelings deep within, playing the role of a diligent leader, hiding from everyone the nightmares running through his processor, now even more intense because of your absence.

He was withering, quietly and alone.

Until now, he had been content simply watching you. He had established a routine, unhealthy as it was, that kept him going. He knew that most of the time when he returned from patrol or a mission, you would be at the base. Even if you came every other or every third day, Optimus knew that eventually, you would show up. It gave him a sense of stability amidst the chaos surrounding him. But now? Maybe two weeks wasn’t a big challenge for you, but he was done after one.

Now, he wanted to be more than a passive observer. He craved physical contact, to hold you close, to feel your heartbeat against his metal. He wanted to know you were alive, to feel your pulse under his digit, to listen to its rhythm, to understand how your chest moved against his metal. He wanted to feel, taste, touch, enter.

He kept glancing at the spot on the couch where you usually sat with your laptop on your lap or spent time with the kids as if hoping that if he looked just one more time, you would materialize there. That everything would return to normal, that he wouldn’t suffer so much, that you would give him the daily dose of antidote he needed to function without plunging deeper into despair. But no matter how many times he looked, you weren’t there, and wouldn’t be for another week.

At some point, however, someone noticed their leader’s miserable mood.

"I can’t quite figure out what kind of bond you have with that woman," Ratchet said, pausing his work to look at Optimus. Before his friend could answer, he continued, "But she’ll be back soon. And whatever she’s doing, she’ll do it well. She’s tough."

"Thank you, old friend. I have no doubt in her abilities. But I would feel better if she were stationed closer to the base in case of a Decepticon attack."

"Mm-hmm," the medic scoffed. "Sure, that’s all it’s about."

Optimus had no response to that. He wasn’t surprised that Ratchet noticed his infatuation, but he would prefer that his friend not delve into the details of their relationship. At least, not yet. Not while Optimus himself was a wreck.

"Hey, hey! [Name] messaged!" Miko yelled.

The Autobot leader immediately approached the platform, finally abandoning his conversation with Ratchet, aware that it would only spark more suspicions. But he didn’t care anymore, not in such an important moment.

He stood directly behind Miko, with Bumblebee and Bulkhead beside him, equally curious to know what you had been up to over the past week.

"She sent photos, too! Look!"

Miko turned to show the messages to the others but paused when she noticed Optimus’s helm close to her.

“Whoa,” she whispered, surprised that out of all the bots, he was the one standing the closest. She swallowed, but her confidence quickly returned.

Holding her phone firmly, she displayed a close-up selfie of you. You were smiling, though the bags under your eyes betrayed that you were sleep-deprived, probably exhausted.

Optimus felt the accumulated stress, pain, and longing of the past week slowly dissipate. Everything was fine with you. You were alive, pushing forward with a smile on your face, happy to simply exist. Admiring your photo didn’t compare to seeing you in person, but it let him vent a little easier, granting him a brief respite from worry, gnawing at him from within. It was enough. For now. For a moment.

“She sends her regards to everyone,” Miko went on, “Oh, and she also asked Ratchet to take a break and mentioned she already bought a gift for Optimus and can’t wait to come back. Hey, I want a present, too!”

Optimus couldn't be certain if another week apart wouldn’t inflict even more damage on his processor and spark, or if longing would eventually consume him entirely. But he knew he was already lost, that you held sway over every aspect of his life. He was wrapped around your finger, tethered by a leash you didn’t even realize existed. And he didn’t mind one bit.

[vonlycaonwife]

May I please have a smexy von lycoan x maid!reader, (fem please) where the new maid is a clutz and gets on Von's nerves on accident. and then one day he loses his composure and decides to 'punish' her and maybe teach her a lesson about proper serving etiquette. please scenario, i would like to hear your thoughts. ;)

I know who you are you sonuva- ANYWAY yeah I can do that.....lord help me

Female reader! Also very ooc!

Warnings: Smut, breeding, face fucking, knotting, dubious consent, unbalanced power dynamics (boss/worker like), severely ooc, partially written before game release

He has just about had it.

A few months ago the agency had just hired a new employee, one that Lycaon had to supervise. She seemed very sweet and excited to do her job, something he enjoyed seeing since those at Victoria Housekeeping Co. must have a good head on their shoulders to do their job.

But then it turned out she was even more of a clutz than Corin, something that's baffled almost everyone.

An often occurrence would be her cleaning something to perfection, only to end up breaking said thing. Another would be her always burning whatever it was she was baking, or adding too much of something. Even during hollow raids she and others end up getting hurt by her own weapon rather than by ethereal. Mainly the only thing she can do is serve tea and even that's a fifty-fifty on if she'll drop the cup in your lap or not. It was astounding how many things went wrong when she was near, though she was always apologetic over every mess up.

And today Lycaon had to scold her once again over the continuous trip ups, though he has not done that yet since the woman was late for their meeting again. 

It was bad enough for him that he had to deal with his own body that was determined to start a rut, but combine that with the fact that the woman that irritated him to no end also had a scent that drove him mad. He usually had better control over himself, but every time something happened that involved her he would have to steel his nerves or otherwise he would go into a full rut. It annoyed him to no end. Though he supposed it was why he was harsher on her than he was on anyone else, as much as he hated to admit. Others had brought it up to him about his behavior, but he would rather be harsher than act like a feral dog. 

"You're late." He huffed once he heard the door open, he turned his eyes to meet the doe like ones of the woman. He held back a growl as her scent entered his nose, quickly placing his hands onto the desk to keep himself from tearing into his uniform. She flinched at his tone, brows pinched in anxiety.

"I'm sorry, I was trying to run here to be on time and...I bumped into someone and caused another mess. I cleaned it up though! So it's no worries!" She reassured, waving her hands around in an attempt to placate his wrath. She tried to smile even when the atmosphere began to grow cold, something that irritated the man even more.

"Another one? How many has that been today?" He asked angrily, his claws just barely scratching into the wood of his desk. Her scent was driving him mad, he had to keep his mind off of it by directing his growing frustrations onto her. 

The woman flinched again, fear rising within her. While she was used to being scolded, this kind of anger aimed towards her was new and frightening. At most the wolf was only ever annoyed or frustrated, but now she felt like she was about to be eaten alive.

"It seems you need another lesson." He said, suddenly calm. At least what she thought was calm, but at meeting his eyes once again all she could see was unbridled anger. Along with something else she couldn't discern. As he stood she froze in place, her hands gripping onto her skirt tightly her knuckles almost turned white. The two kept eye contact as the large man walked his way around his desk, ignoring the claw marks, before standing directly in front of the woman. "We've had this conversation so many times, but it seems you're not getting it.”

"I-I'm sorry Sir! I'll do better, I promise!” She begged, straining her neck to look up at him. While she wasn't that short, she always had a hard time not cramping her neck whenever she had to look at Lycaon. She shivered under his gaze, steeling her nerves so she wouldn't step back in fear. While she is able to handle most things, right now it almost felt like she was prey staring into the face of a predator. “Really I will.”

“You say that…” He started, before suddenly growling with a ferocity that terrified her. She suddenly backed up, her mind running over what options she had, before her back ran into the door behind her. She quickly turned around, her flight instincts blaring danger in her head, attempting to open the door before she felt hands slam onto the surface beside her. Frozen in place she could only be aware of her thoughts screaming at her to run, before it all stopped when she felt his breath hit her neck. “And yet you never seem to improve.”

Lycaon can only berate himself as his own body had seemed to be taken over by his instincts. Just the sight of her looking up at him with her wide eyes had made him mad, he couldn't stop himself from wanting to be closer to her. Her scent was overriding his sense of smell, the feel of her shaking in fear under him was embarrassingly delicious. He didn't think of himself to be cruel, and yet he relished in her fear. His hands were shaking against the door, claws scratching at the surface while he barely tried to reign in himself.

“Do you even know how much you irritate me? How annoying it is to have to have these talks with you every damn week?” He growled out, his nose brushing against her hair as he spoke. His claws dug deeper into the wooden surface as he tried to keep himself from touching her with them. He knew if he did that he couldn't go back, he wouldn't be able to hold himself together like he barely is at this moment. His sharp ears heard her gasp as the sound of wood splitting rang out. “Do you even know how hard it is to keep myself contained with that smell of yours?”

“I-”

“Shut up.” He brushed his teeth against the skin of her neck, groaning as he heard her whimper in fear. But what also caught his attention was that her scent somehow became even more potent, making him realize something. He slowly released his hands from the wooden surface, giving them a quick glance for any potential splinters, before dropping to his knees. His hands lifted up her skirt, releasing an enormous wave of her scent. He quickly moved his face closer to her, his nose brushing against her core.

“S-Sir!” She yelped, her hands moving to try and move him away before he could realize. But she stopped when he heard him growl, ordering her to stay in place. Understanding he figured out how she was suddenly turned on by the sudden turn of events, she obeyed his order. She stared at the patterns of the wood, trying to keep her mind off the fact that her superior was suddenly sniffing her like a horny animal. Not that she minded too much, as she had developed a small crush on him since gaining her job at the company. 

“Lesson one, speak when spoken to.” He said, his hands gently caressing her thighs as he nudged them to spread apart.

“B-But-”

“Quiet.” He ordered, before pressing his nose against her once more. He could feel his entire body shiver as the woman's scent flooded his senses. His ears could pick up the noises she tried to repress, causing him to huff in amusement. He used one hand to move the thin fabric that separated him from her bare skin aside, making it possible to place his long tongue along her folds.

“Ah! S-Sir wait-”

“I said, be quiet.” He grunted, adding a growl to emphasize his order. He felt her freeze from his tone as he swiped his tongue over her once more. The taste that spread on his tongue was like heaven to him, completely making him forget the world around him as he pushed his face deeper to taste more.

As his tongue entered her, her hands quickly flew to cover her mouth to prevent any noises from escaping. Her forehead leaned against the door as she tried to even out her breathing, her legs began to shake as she felt his tongue reach deeper. She could feel his hands gripping tighten as a way to keep her still, his claws digging into her skin in a way that brought no pain to her. 

Soon she began to feel that familiar coil within her tighten, causing her to grip onto her face harden. She could feel his tongue quicken its pace as her walls constricted, her whole body shook as she felt that coil ready to burst. Only to be met with a sudden emptiness causing her to quickly turn her head around to see him stand up. She wanted to ask why he stopped, before she suddenly was lifted into the air. Squealing at the movement, she wiggled in his grip before she found herself placed onto one of the plush chairs. After blinking a bit to understand what had happened, she looked up to see his piercing red eye staring down back at her.

“Lesson two, all employees must fulfill their tasks with perfect proficiency.” Lycaon barely spoke, adjusting his belt before pushing down his slacks to reveal his hardening member. Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in his size, her thighs squeezing together in both mild fear and anticipation. Wordlessly she adjusted herself in the seat and hesitantly wrapped one hand around him, slowly moving it along the shaft. She closed her eyes in embarrassment, but a gentle began to pet her head, making her meet his eyes once more. “Just relax.”

His voice was very gentle, putting her in a shock before she could realize he removed her hand and pressed the head of his cock against her slightly parted lips. She almost jumped at the contact before that hand gripped her hair to keep her in place. The low growl he released was the only warning he would give her. Shivering she widened her opened mouth and slowly gave small licks, earning a hum in approval. Soon she leaned forward, bringing the head into her mouth and sucking. Her hands were gripping onto the skirt of her uniform, knuckles turning white as she tried her best to keep her mouth wide enough to accommodate his size. 

Quickly the thirian took charge and began to move his hips slowly, pushing his length further and further down her throat. As time went on his pace became rougher and faster, causing tears to start welling in her eyes. But she made no complaint, only kept her eyes shut as she focused on breathing through her nose. Embarrassingly she could feel the spot on the cushion seat below her become damp, making her whine against him. Though she could barely hear herself over the growls the man was releasing. Soon she could feel him pulsate against her tongue, but before he could cum, he released himself from her mouth. 

Before she could question anything, she suddenly felt him grab her by the waist and all but slam her onto the desk. But nothing happened, he only stared into her eyes. It’s as if he was hesitant to do anything else, his claws gripping onto with the same intensity as earlier. The two stayed in their fixed position before one finally spoke.

“Do you want this?” The words barely came out of the thirian, more so only able to leave past his lips with his pants.

“W-What?”

“I’m asking if you truly want this, because if this goes further then we can’t go back.” He slowly explains, like he was in a daze.

“Oh…” She blinks, her muddled brain struggling to fully comprehend what he was saying. But once it settled itself within her thoughts did all the muddiness completely disappear. “O-Oh! Y-Yeah I am! I’ve uh…”

Her face flushes as she attempts to get her thoughts in order. “I’ve already…had some feelings for you so…if you don’t-eep!”

His lips slam onto hers, interrupting her words. She lets out a surprised squeal, tensing in his grip, before relaxing and wrapping her arms around his neck. She moaned as his tongue explored her mouth, swallowing her noises as he reached one hand to rub circles around her clit. Soon she felt the tip of his cock nudge at her entrance, causing her to tense once more.

“Relax.” She could barely hear him say as he slowly thrust himself inside. Her insides almost felt like they were on fire from the sheer intense heat of his length. When he finally completely filled her, tears were running down her face as she tried not to move and adjust. Lycaon trailed soft kisses all over her face as he waited for her to give the go ahead. Soon she began to relax, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Reading her body languages, Lycaon began to move his hips at a slow pace. He closed his eyes as he concentrated on not losing control, the way he could only smell her scent and the fact it was all over him made him almost go insane. The one hand still holding onto the desk tightened around the wood, close to splinting it like what he did with the wall earlier. He had moved his other hand to her clothed waist, keeping her in place as soon began to speed up. Her whines rang out of the room, adding fuel to the fire of his loosening restraint.

As he focused on controlling his instincts, he somehow didn’t notice her fingers settling into the fur at the back of his neck. She gave it a quick pull, not too harsh to pull out any fur, making him groan in pain. He opened his eyes to meet her own, glaring down at her intensely. He leaned down, growling out harsh words of disapproval. But the lustful gleam he saw in her eyes and her whiny begging was what finally drove him to let go. Slamming his hips against hers with wild abandonment, his teeth gently biting at the exposed skin of her neck while his hands grabbed onto her legs to move them on top of his shoulders. 

He was taking it all in, the sound of her moans and high pitch screams, the taste of her sweat and tears on his tongue, and the smell of their scents mingling together along with the growing smell of sex. He even could hear his own groans and growls, though his focus moved quickly to the feeling of his swelling knot enlarging. His instincts were urging him to push it in right this instant, but he had some restraint left to wait. 

Meanwhile she was overwhelmed by his rough pace, tears flowing down her face as she was slammed with wave after wave of pleasure. She could barely think, her mind only focused on the feeling of him filling her to the brim. But soon she could feel that familiar coil within her, tightening at such an alarming rate. Her voice began to break as it reached a higher pitch than her vocal cords were able to handle, her hands clutching onto his fur in search of anything to stabilize herself. She tried to let any words out, but was once more interrupted by him kissing her. She could only moan into his mouth as she felt something bigger push into her. Her eyes widened in shock as his knot was thrusted in, her body tensing and squirming as the rush of pleasure flooded her veins once more. Released from the kiss, she could only whine as her insides were filled with his hot seed.

“Wait.” He said, gently keeping her in place as she squirmed. “Give it a few minutes.”

She nodded in response, having no energy for words. He chuckled at that, amused at her state. Once he was able to remove himself, he shushed her as she whined from the loss. She could feel her eyelids growing heavy, as her body finally relaxed after everything. She barely felt him move her to sit back in the chair she had stained, hearing him whisper about returning with cleaning rags and other necessary items. She wasn't able to respond before sleep finally overtook her.

She wasn't able to see the soft he gave her, nor did she even realize he had kissed her forehead. He quickly made himself suitable again before quietly leaving through the door, locking it to make sure no one would walk in on the mess he had to clean up. Though he's sure he would walk into an even bigger mess once the woman wakes up and tries to clean. But he isn't too upset about that fact now.

Since it just means he has an opportunity to teach her another “lesson.”

[gilverrwrites]

Some of many (entirely self indulgent) fluffy/domestic Dick Grayson headcanons just because I love him.

He ADORES having a passenger prince/ss, someone to chat to, to point out cute dogs, and to sing along to Spotify with.

However, of the entire family, he is the worst driver.

Damian doesn’t even know how to drive yet, and somehow Dick is still worse.

It's not so bad in the car. He's known to ‘accidentally’ drive above the speed limit, take a few risky sharp turns and whatnot, but that’s about it.

But if you’re ever on the back of a batcycle, hold on for dear life.

He really doesn’t get enough credit for being the family's resident daredevil type.

He’s drifting, doing wheelies WITH NO HANDS.

Of course, he wouldn’t do it if he wasn’t 110% certain of your safety, but if you get scared he will tease.

You’ve gotta be able to stand a certain degree of teasing with Dick.

More often than not he outright does not respond to being called Dick by you. Cute pet names only, please. Dickie at a minimum. “Dick? Whose Dick? I only know Bubba.”

And vice versa, say goodbye to your actual name unless he’s mad at you.

His wardrobe is yours (within reason obviously, can’t have you parading around in his Nightwing suit).

He especially likes seeing you in his boxers and t-shirts, or especially his dress shirts the morning after a fancy event.

But he also raids your wardrobe, does not matter if you’re considerably smaller than him. He’ll wear your tees like crop tops in the summer, and won’t hesitate to squeeze your socks over his feet if he doesn’t have any clean ones.

And unless you do his laundry, or he’s been back to the manor recently, he rarely has clean socks.

Leaves you his cologne bottle if he’s ever has to go away for more than a few nights so you can spray whatever you like to be reminded of him.

Big on PDA, always draping himself on you when you’re out places. Arms around your shoulders on walks, plays footsie with you under tables. Will dance with you in the streets when you’re walking home drunk or kiss you in the rain.

Unless he’s around family, in which case it’s like a switch. Their teasing is relentless, and he doesn’t mind too much when it’s just him, but it really gets under his skin when they make jokes at your expense, even if they don’t mean anything by it.

Not to mention he’s leading by example, he doesn’t wanna see his younger siblings sucking face with anyone up close, so he’s not gonna subject them to watch him do it.

Always says he wants more chill dates where the two of you just relax at home and watch a film or something but that never happens. In the event that he isn’t needed elsewhere he either

Gets touchy 5 minutes in and you spend the night doing it instead.

Complains that you need a very specific type of snack or something, and takes you shopping at the only supermarket at does it, then there’s a great fast food joint you’ve gotta try, oh and he knows a rooftop nearby that has a great view you have to let him show you, come on.

He’s restless!

The only times your stay-at-home and chill dates succeed are when gaming is involved. Keep his hands and brain occupied.

Does not enjoy cleaning or cooking, but he’s not completely incapable. He often plays up his ‘inability to cook’ at home cause he knows the responsibility of cooking for everyone will fall on him should Alfred be unable/away, and god knows he’s a people pleaser. He won’t say no, so prevent them from asking.

He’ll cook for you though, it’s nothing special but he’ll do it.

Chores often take twice as long with him around because he’s always getting distracted dancing to the radio with you, or just touching you, he can't help it, you’re just so great, you’re a perfect little domestic team together.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

thinkin about ex-husband keegan p russ. 

thinkin about how there's no way he doesn't show up at your front door within hours of the first ODIN attacks. 

keegan fucking russ standing at your door at three in the morning without so much as a cursory greeting. makes you pack a suitcase with whatever bare essentials you can't live without. there's a lot of arguing involved but not a lot of conversation, as usual. you talk, sure, and he listens, nods, and then looks at his watch and says you need to move your ass or he's gonna move it for you. 

next thing you know, you're in his passenger seat and he's driving you to his military base six hours away.

he doesn't bother to explain anything, but he does bother to ask you what happened to that fiance of yours.

you give him a heated look, one that says you're ready to square up. defensive, aren't you. that tells him what he wants to know and he scoffs, adjusting his one-handed grip on the steering wheel. good riddance.

you're one of the few civilians on base. you try to be civil with keegan, but falling into old habits is too fucking easy. you and keegan married young--it was a boot camp wedding for the benefits--and the marriage itself wasn't good. well--parts of it, certain parts, were good. really good. 

none of it was healthy, mind you. just this cycle of arguing all day and then settling the argument in bed all night. sometimes well into the next day. you couldn't go twelve hours without picking a fight, and he couldn't let it go. not without putting you on your back and railing you until you forgot whatever the hell you were mad about.

something about keegan just makes you aggressive. just makes you want to bare your teeth and go for his throat. something about how impassive he is, how hard he is to rattle, makes you want to push him until he reacts.

you're in the perfect situation to piss him off on base by sleeping with some other dude. 

or at least that's what you think. 

keegan makes sure the other soldiers know you are one hundred percent off-limits. keegan's ex-wife? yeah, none of the other soldiers are gonna touch that with a ten-foot pole. 

one or two joke around about how dumb he was to let a bombshell like you divorce his ass, but keegan shuts it down real fucking quick.

then he starts showing up at your door just to give you the chance to pick a stupid fight. 

he finds himself pushing you farther and farther, finds himself craving that satisfaction he gets when you turn that heated look of pure loathing on him. he wants you to throw your barbs his way. not just the lighthearted teasing you toss out to his teammates--he wants you to lash out at him. give him everything you've got. make it hurt.

if you're glaring at him, belittling him, insulting him, you're not out there flirting with someone else. your attention is his.

he always seems to show up at your door when you're moody and listless. pent up with tension. your method of dealing with it involves this, mm, push and pull he enjoys. sometimes his squadmates send him to your door when they catch attitude from you.

"heard you got on everyone's nerves today," he tells you. "you gonna be a handful?"

you swing the door closed, wanting it to slam in his face, but you find it bangs into his boot instead. he bullies him way inside easily and shuts the door behind him.you skip past asking him what he wants and instead tell him to fuck off. straight to business. he's always liked that about you.

"keep talkin' like that and i'll really start enjoying myself," he tells you.

you retreat just to grab your cigarettes and light one up. he swipes your lighter faster than you can snatch it away.

you quit smoking after the two of you broke up. so did he. and here you both are.

"just came to check on you," he tells you. you both know that's a lie. you both know why he's here, and you both know why you aren't trying any harder to send him away. "you could use some friendly company."

you tell him in no uncertain terms that he's not friendly company.

he flips open a carton of cigarettes--your carton, you realize with a start. you didn't see him take it. he pulls out a cigarette and  lights it up, but pockets the carton, a wry little smirk on his face.

"don't act like you hated it last night."

you snatch the cigarette out of his mouth and tell him he'd better not say a goddamn word about last night.

"sure, baby," he tells you, he watches your lips intently as you take a drag of his cigarette. "you know I can keep a secret."

...

this is on you @keegansshark

more Keegan / masterlist tag

[mermaidsirennikita]

Sadly, the Wuthering Heights furor has also led to people (many of whom, let us be real, simply dislike the book or otherwise only think of it when it's brought up) to discourse about the content of the novel versus the wrongness of Emerald Fennell's choices with regards to the movie, which of course, has opened up the classic "IT'S NOT A ROMANCE! IT'S NOT A LOVE STORY! BAD PEOPLE! HATE STORY!"

... Which is... also a bad take.

First off, to be very clear, "Romance" is not inherently "genre romance", which is the thing I blog a lot about that was solidified in the latter half of the twentieth century (and which, no doubt, was influenced on some level by WH as much as Jane Eyre, Austen novels and so on). Wuthering Heights is a romance, it's just not a genre romance/romance novel. And indisputably, Wuthering Heights is a love story.

It may not be a love story you like. It may not be a love story with a happily ever after (though I will say—this is one of the few books where I think it's pretty debatable, as "wandering the moors as ghosts", if that is what happened, is kind of... what Cathy and Heathcliff would've wanted... and their ultimate desire was to be TOGETHER, regardless of whether or not it damned them, so is it an HEA in their freaky minds? Maybe so lol). It may ALSO be an abuse story in which the lovers act horribly to each other.... though, I gotta say, MUCH WORSE to literally everyone else in their lives than they do to each other...

But it's a love story. That is one of several things it happens to be. The entire novel is driven by this central love story between Heathcliff and Cathy—a love that is, contrary to what a surface-level reading or reading by word of mouth would imply... very much mutual. I've already gone on about how Cathy Earnshaw is not Heathcliff's victim the way Isabella Linton is, and how Cathy is very much as involved in the love affair as he is. But truly, while their individual internal struggles are the framework and what keeps them apart in many ways—Heathcliff being a man of color and subject to racist abuse, Cathy conforming to society and classist pressures when her natural temperament is very much not of society—what propels the story is this romance.

Because they are supposed to be read as extremely similar, and as two people who do not truly identify with anyone but one another. They're supposed to be read as like minds. They're supposed to be read as thwarted. Some of the things those two say about each other and to each other are legitimately some of the most romantic lines I've ever read.

I mean, are they also kind of sick and wrong? Sure! But I do find it kind of rich to see people who are totally fine with reading dark romance wring their hands over the public at large interpreting Heathcliff and Cathy's relationship as an epic romance. I don't have an issue with anyone enjoying either! But. Let us be real. Part of why y'all are even enjoying work like that is the standard that books like WH set, and the fact that WH does speak to the lure of the dark and the tragedy of people who are super imperfect... and also super in love... continuously fucking up their own lives (and the lives of basically everyone around them) in this push-pull of denial and desire.

When people say "HOW COULD ANYONE EVER INTERPRET THIS AS ROMANTIC?" I just have to question... did you read the book? Because even if it's not for YOU, if it's not romantic TO YOU, surely you can see why other people (me and mine lol) read lines like these and go, "Wow, romantic":

“Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living. You said I killed you--haunt me then. The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe--I know that ghosts have wandered the earth. Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!”

(fun fact: I do have a part of the above quote tattooed on my body and I'm very happy about it)

"My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning: my great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it."

"Hush, my darling! Hush, hush, Catherine! I'll stay. If he shot me so, I'd expire with a blessing on my lips."

[said when her damn husband is almost at the door lol]

"I’m not wishing you greater torment than I have, Heathcliff. I only wish us never to be parted: and should a word of mine distress you hereafter, think I feel the same distress underground, and for my own sake, forgive me!"

"'Heathcliff, dear! you should not be sullen now. Do come to me, Heathcliff.’

In her eagerness she rose and supported herself on the arm of the chair. At that earnest appeal he turned to her, looking absolutely desperate. His eyes, wide and wet, at last flashed fiercely on her; his breast heaved convulsively. An instant they held asunder, and then how they met I hardly saw, but Catherine made a spring, and he caught her, and they were locked in an embrace from which I thought my mistress would never be released alive..."

"Kiss me again; and don’t let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer—but yours! How can I?"

[Read: she is the murderer he is talking about. He's saying she doomed herself to death a long time ago, and he hates her for it. While also crying and kissing her lmao]

They're sickos! Nobody can argue otherwise. But that does not mean they're not in love, and it doesn't mean this isn't a love story, and wagging your fingers at people who read this as the obviously destructive love story this is and find it romantic... doesn't change that.

And the thing is that the book makes it pretttyyyy clear that even if Heathcliff and Cathy has assholery programed into their personalities, WITHOUT the contexts of how they were raised and the society that expects them both to conform to prescribed roles, they would probably just... be together. Like, they victimize people, especially Heathcliff. But they are also victims. The book isn't about a critique of two people Emily Bronte dreamed up; it's a critique of the CIRCUMSTANCES by way of Gothic, subversive melodrama. At the end of the day, their feelings, however passionate they are, are not inherently subversive. Their feelings are NATURAL. But they're twisted and contorted into something ugly through circumstance and the characters' responses to those circumstances.

For Heathcliff, A LOT of those circumstances that did twist him are in fact out of his control. Which is why we hate that casting, right?

But all that said, a love story being dirtybadwrong and about Bad People doesn't mean it isn't a love story, lol. Again—we don't even expect genre romance to be about good people.

Like. Yeah. We know Heathcliff and Cathy are assholes. You're not breaking new ground with that take. The book is still, in many ways, about those assholes being in love.

[gainahan]

naruto driving headcanons

Naruto - definitely not licensed. debatable whether he actually knows which one is the brake pedal. as long as Sakura is alive he will not be allowed behind the wheel of a car. unknowable/10

Sasuke - also not technically licensed, but all things considered a pretty decent driver. probably started driving well before he was legally old enough to. 7.5/10

Sakura - road rage extraordinaire. swears up and down she goes the speed limit but in truth goes at minimum 10 over. “speed limit is a suggestion” more like speed limit is a challenge. at the very least she gets them where they need to go. 5.5/10

Sai - never learned to drive until he met team 7. between Naruto and Sakura’s influences, he won’t be getting licensed for at least the next 6 years. good luck/10

Shikamaru - truly cannot be arsed. if asked to drive he claims to not have a license, but he definitely does. another unknowable/10 but I like to think in a pinch he’d be pretty good at it.

Choji - reliable driver but has a tendency to be late. gets stressed out when he has more than a few passengers. 6/10

Ino - wants to be a passenger princess soo badly. unfortunately for her, she’s the best on her team. being good at driving is her curse. woefully, 10/10

Kiba - team 8’s designated driver, believe it or not. he is…not good at it, per se, but better than the rest of them. having two sets of eyes on the road tends to help. 6.5/10

Hinata - gets so stressed out she forgets how to brake. she’ll be white knuckling the wheel going 50 in a residential while her passengers pray for their lives in the backseat. -2/10 her dad’s insurance is through the roof

Shino - morally opposed to driving. he hasn’t confirmed why but the running theory is that a swarm of his bugs faceplanted into the windshield once and traumatized him. unknowable/10

Neji - doesn’t believe in right-of-way. refuses to use his mirrors. whole heartedly believes he is god’s gift to the interstate. by some miracle has never gotten into a crash, but if any of his passengers are sensible people he is banned from the wheel. 0/10

Tenten - makes Sakura’s road rage look like divinely inspired patience. honestly she’s not even mad she just enjoys it. has to be actively talked down from brake checking people. banned from the wheel 0/10

Lee - while technically a perfect driver (obeys every speed limit, never makes an illegal turn, maneuvers like butter), having him in the front seat is such an intolerable experience he’s also banned from the wheel. those unfortunate enough to have witnessed it don’t speak of their experience, but rumors involve something along the lines of a custom-made Gai inspirational quotes driving playlist. 0/10

Temari - grew up driving her brothers around. Absolutely hates it. when she’s in a car she’s got her feet up on the dashboard and always has the aux. if she were to drive again, 9.5/10

Gaara - an…extremely calm, level headed driver? side effect of RBF is that everyone is always waiting for him to snap and run someone over. he never has. probably listens to calming classical music or something while in traffic jams. 10000/10

Kankuro - I find it funny to believe he’s the actual passenger princess. unknowable/10

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Gay wrongs tournament semifinals

Propaganda:

[mod sidenote: this is a hilarious matchup, I love it]

For Hanningram:

Ive previously only heard the term "murder husbands" refer to hannigram so it feels flitting. The whole series culminated with a murder they did together bathing in blood. 

The show and ship that coined murder husbands. It’s in the text in s3 from a journalist side character. They do Many murders either together or as a message to each other. Usually this involves turning the dead body into an art piece. The show ends with them killing a guy together in a slo mo scene backed by porno music.

They're both batshit and manipulative.

ALRIGHT so they're not canonically together but it is HEAVILY implied and they have some sort of fucked up psychosexual obsession with each other. in the later parts of the show they start committing murder and cannibalism together and they're soooo unhinged but it's awesome

kill people for each other. maim each other. kill people together. most batshit insane metaphors. send each other to jail. ruin everyone’s lives. someone can probably say this better than me but these gay people are insane

Literally THE murder husbands. They kill for each other. They've tried to kill each other. They're canon in all but name, like the homoeroticism between these two is the driving force of the show.

one time hannibal folded a guy into an origami human heart

They are in love and they kill and eat people. They are called Murder Husbands in canon.

The original murder husbands (literally, that's not just their ship name, they get called that in canon)

The show begins with Will working for the FBI and trying to catch Hannibal, but because Hannibal is so intrigued by the way Will is able to see the world and the motives behind the killings so easily, it becomes a game of Hannibal isolating Will even more from the people around and seducing him to try and kill. By the time Will starts embracing the side of him that Hannibal sees, he starts oulling back and trying to distance himself so that when the time comes for Will to fully embrace himself and Hannibal, no one really suspects what they have planned. 

hannibal literally does murder as courtship and it works bc will is also a fucked up little guy

I'm actually quite offended they aren't included by default (joke). They are THE murder husbands!!!!!! (mod note: they should have been, but I wanted to see how many submissions they'd get. They got 19, making them a little more than 6% of total submission count).

do i have to say it. they literally get called murder husbands IN THE SHOW

There are 3201 works for Hannibal on ao3 tagged Murder Husbands. They are the ogs, they are the pioneers we owe it all to them.

THEE murder couple. You know it. I know it. They commit crimes at each other as courting and then commit crimes together and then fall off a cliff to wash up somewhere and live on to serve cunt. Get referred to as 'murder husbands' in canon. What more do you need

Hannigram were literally called Murder Husbands in canon, they are the og, they are THE blueprint. They were gay as hell and comitted so much murder so many crimes. THEY RAN OFF TO EUROPE TOGETHER.

For Bubbline:

Princess Bubblegum is a mad scientist and dictator, Marceline likes to threaten to kill people.

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: you hadn't talked about it. had believed you'd never have to. but then you'd been alone in a classroom with a madman and the walls had been closing in, no hope, no escape. and then it'd screamed, LET ME OUT.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: panic attacks. eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.18

tick. tock.

tick. tock.

Question 1: Why did Frankenstein create the Monster?

Mr. Anderson sat behind his desk, marking that morning's pile of tests. Yours was underway, everyone's heads down, the room silent apart from the scratching of pens on paper and the occasional creak as someone shifted at their desk.

As soon as you'd received your copy, you'd read through the questions; simple enough. Determine metaphor and allegory, write about what's between the lines, not what's on the page.

This wasn't your first rodeo. You loved the practice of analyzing books, finding things the author probably hadn't meant to give deeper meaning to but had, for the sake of high school English. It was where you excelled, earned As and A-pluses, 10/10s, 99/100s.

Mrs. Boudreaux, your junior English teacher, had been the driving force behind your application to the English program at Berkeley. With her guidance, you'd applied in your final semester last year and already had the acceptance letter stashed where your mother wouldn't snoop.

You were really fucking good at English.

And yet...

tick. tock.

tick. tock.

Question 1: Why does Frankenstein create the Monster?

You couldn't focus. Your mind kept slipping, the edges of cordoned-off memories bleeding under the tape. What you'd almost said to Simon earlier—"I'm gonna end up going after him with a—" crowbar crowbar crowbar—your stomach churned. You'd bitten the threat on your tongue and swallowed it back down before it'd had the chance to spill into the world.

Why that? Why, of all things, that? You hadn't...you'd never use...you wouldn't DO that.

"Sissy May! You're not looking! You have to look!"

A quiet, sharp inhale. Like sucking air through a straw. It wasn't enough, but you didn't want the attention. You folded over your desk to lay sideways on your arm, putting your back to the class. Pen on paper, unmoving, blue dot growing as ink seeped through the pages.

Write. Do it. Write something. Anything.

But you couldn't. Half of you was pulled in one direction while time wrenched your other half in another, fracturing in impossible countermotion. Existing forward and backward at the same time.

tick. tock.

tick. tock.

Question 1: Why does Frankenstein create the Monster?

Your vision swam as memories wedged themselves between the seconds, left hand singeing where it was cradled in the crook of your neck and shoulder. The pain shot from the outermost knuckle up to your elbow and struck outward in Lichtenberg figures behind your ribs.

"—the Split River police are considering this a missing person investigation—he lures her to the boiler room—blood blood blood on the walls—and you chose that person to be there—you're stuck here?"

Dialogue ran into each other, warped, distorted, a record played in reverse. Mr. Hartman's speech on Monday, your conversation with Wally, Simon's despair, and private thoughts emulsified into an incoherent sludge that pulsed in your ears.

"—she's stuck she's stuck she's stuck—body could be anywhere—I know this is alarming news, but we have every hope she'll be found safely—aren't friends supposed to trust each other?"

tick. tock.

tick. tock.

Question 1: Why does Frankenstein create the Monster?

Hesitant, careful, you tried not to draw attention as you sat up. Your left hand felt wet and when you looked down you saw tiny pinpricks of blood beading within the crevice of your scar. The pinpricks swelled into each other, more and more, scar tissue splitting up the middle and folding back. Blood gurgled out around the bone and spilled onto your desk. Drip-dropped onto the floor. Dribbled across blank test sheets.

You snatched your hand into your lap—don't look, it's not real, don't look—and clenched your eyes shut, dragging in quick, rabbitty breaths as best you could without making any noise.

"—if you know anything, anything at all, please come forward—he's hiding Maddie in there—I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry—no questions asked, remember?—get your stuff and let's go—I'm sorry I'm sorry—Sissy?"

Your eyes snapped open, immediately trained on the supply closet door. Ominous. Unbelonging. Dry, grey wood and rusted handle. You looked down at yourself, at your hand, open wound spewing a pool under your desk. Clothes and skin stained red. Hair in tacky strings that fell to your waist, much longer than it'd been when you woke up that morning.

Blood. So much. Blood.

tick. tock.

tick. tock.

"LET ME OUT!"

The rusted handle rattled furiously, wood expanding and contracting like the lungs of a nightmare. You were paralyzed in your seat, joints completely fused, unable to open your mouth and scream for help. Tears welled in your eyes, streaked down your face, as you watched the hinges loosen and the doorframe splinter around the strike plate.

"You can't keep me here! Do you hear me!? LET ME OUT!!"

Suddenly, there were hands on your face, a voice in the distance calling your name.

"Go get the nurse." Mr. Anderson instructed, spooked, standing from his desk and rushing down the aisle.

"With all due respect, sir," Xavier said over his shoulder, crouched beside you, hands staying firm on your jaw, "You do it. I'm staying with her."

He turned back to you, repeated your name, told you where you were, that you were okay, that he had you and wasn't going anywhere, shh shh it's okay, I'm right here. Until, finally, thank Christ, finally, your eyes refocused and you seemed to recognize Xavier.

"I need you to breathe for me, kiddo." He said in as soothing a tone as he could given his panic. He grabbed your left hand and put it over his heart, settled his open palm on your sternum, and inhaled deeply. "Come on, May, you can do this. You're okay."

The old nickname stung like a lash, defunct for a reason, but despite wanting to tell Xavier off, you couldn't speak. Your throat was too tight, tongue too large, fuck, you were going to die. Not there. Not in the school. Not where you'd never get out.

Not like this, you pleaded. And then, all at once, you were released, gasping and wailing, toppling out of your seat and onto the floor, into Xavier's arms. He tucked himself around you, protective, safe, and held you as you sobbed.

Outside, Wally almost doubled over, uneven contractions of pain in his chest, over and over, worse and worse. Disoriented, he held himself up on the side of the bus stop.

Rhonda was ranting at Charley about secrets, Maddie's secret—Simon could see them!—and Charley was frantically apologizing and Maddie was gone—where had she gone? It didn't matter—nothing mattered, he had to find you.

"Where are you going?!" Rhonda yelled after him as he took off toward the side door.

And all he could think of to explain his sudden departure was, "I just need some space right now!"

Right then, he didn't care if she believed him. If either of them believed him. If they followed him and found you and found him with you—he didn't fucking care.

He just had to get to you.

Mr. Anderson returned with the nurse, pale and uneasy. Xavier ignored them both as he helped you to your feet. The classroom had thankfully been on its way to empty when Xavier had noticed you'd been unresponsive. Sat stiff as a board at your desk clutching your left hand, the whites of your eyes visible as you'd stared into nothingness.

"I'm taking her home." He said, brooking no argument, holding you against him with an arm secured around your waist and you were almost out, almost away from the terror that had gripped you, but Nurse Laine had to shine a flashlight pen into your eyes first.

She asked questions that you answered with curt nods and shakes.

"Are her parents home?"

Xavier informed, "Her grandmother. I've already said I'm bringing her back." Between convulsions. Had reached into your bag to fish out your phone. Punched the code in easily and found Abigail's number in your contacts. Why the hell was it still 0-6-1-1? Why torture yourself?

It was then that Wally barreled through the closed classroom door. He looked every bit as shaken as you felt. In four long strides, he was at your side, observing Xavier with more scrutiny than he gave to the scene itself.

"I want to go home," You said, weak, wet, directed to everyone in the room, but especially to Wally. Because you couldn't talk directly to him, couldn't touch him; no matter how much you needed him to be who held you, you weren't so far gone not to recognize that that wasn't possible.

Mr. Anderson spoke as Xavier guided you to the door, "You can retake the test on Monday. It's no problem." And it was both a relief and a kick in the gut.

You couldn't look at him. At the man who had abducted Maddie, hurt her, abused her, forced her out of her body.

"Sissy?"

You wrenched forward and vomited into the garbage pail beside the door.

Mr. Anderson took a single step and you whimpered, curling into Xavier as if attempting to hide from the man. Xavier looked between you and Mr. Anderson, a dark expression of suspicion seeping into his features.

"Don't worry about it." Mr. Anderson said of the garbage pail like that's what you were scared about. Like that mattered at all. "I'll take care of it. Just get her home safely."

Xavier gritted out a thank you to Mr. Anderson on your behalf and practically carried you out of there, stopping only to peek into the hallway first to assess how to get you to the car without witnesses.

Minus a couple of students jogging to their next class a few minutes late, the hallway was empty.

Wally remained a stalwart presence at your other side, down the two flights of stairs and out the door into the parking lot.

Lead-rubber limbs caused missteps, scuffing the toes of your sneakers against the gravel. Xavier never let go, every stumble counterbalanced, patient as you found your footing again only to lose it moments later.

He bundled you into the passenger's seat—sideways against the back with your legs still outside the car—and crouched to tell you, "I'm going to grab my bike. I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay."

After a hard press of his lips to your forehead, he was gone, and Wally took his place.

It felt too much like your sophomore year, Xavier swooping in to the rescue, leaving Wally in the dust. Only, this time, Wally knew you could hear him. More than that, Wally knew you'd answer when he asked:

"Baby, what happened?"

You shrugged, fragile, tired, and, "Panic attack," you said simply. "I think this whole thing with Maddie is getting to me."

Wally nodded as if he understood, but he didn't, though he so wished he did. What he'd felt, what the connection between you and he had delivered into him...if he'd been alive, the pain Wally had experienced would've killed him, he was certain of it.

Are you okay? He almost asked. Instead, he dropped to his knees and wound his arms around your waist, coaxing you forward until you tilted out of the seat and allowed Wally to take your weight. He leaned back and sunk onto his haunches so you were entirely seated in his lap, face under his chin, arms around his neck, fastened to him in a way he was beginning to prefer.

Eventually, "Something happened. Six years ago," you revealed, so quiet Wally nearly missed it.

He kissed a crown into your hairline, "You don't have to tell me, pretty girl, it's okay."

"I want to." You insisted, but Wally felt the tension in your back when you said it.

Plastering on his best smile, he craned his neck so he could see your face, practically melting as those big, marbled eyes blinked sweetly up at him. "Some other time, then, huh?" He suggested and was pleased when you agreed. A little nod and then you nuzzled yourself back into his throat with a sigh. Cute as a baby bird.

Xavier returned a few minutes later and set about preparing the car so he had enough space to deposit his bike in the trunk. Once finished, he climbed into the driver's seat and tapped you lightly on the shoulder.

"Ready to go?"

Contrary to last night, when you'd slammed back into your body at speed, you seemed to simply rouse as if from sleep. A far gentler experience that you hoped was the new norm.

"Get some rest, baby," Wally said and stood, dusting off the knees of his sweatpants. "I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

You answered with a smile since Xavier was watching you; refusing to start the car until you'd positioned yourself properly with your seatbelt buckled and the car door closed.

As Xavier drove out of the parking lot, the warmth of the connection between you and Wally fell away like a cloak slipping from your shoulders.

Xavier didn't hesitate to reach over the console and take your hand as if he could sense you needed the comfort. He squeezed and promised, "No questions asked."

You kept your head turned toward the window, heavy on the headrest, and squeezed back.

💀___________________________

PART SEVENTEEN - PART NINETEEN

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[heliads]

this city reeks of driving myself crazy

Jack Hughes misses his captain. Nico Hischier isn't acting like he misses Jack. Obviously, there are going to be problems.

masterlist

Nico is coming back from the mens’ world championships. Jack is trying not to act as if he has been waiting for this since the moment Nico left. 

The thought occurs to him halfway through physical therapy. Jack is in the middle of fifteen reps of some bullshit exercise involving resistance bands and a great deal of relief that no one can see him like this when he realizes that, soon, a plane will touch down and a man will get off, and that man will be Nico, and maybe everything will be okay again after all. 

Not everything, obviously. Nico coming back does not remove Jack’s shoulder surgery from this plane of existence, though, trusting his captain, it’ll probably make him feel a little better about it. Jack has already heard far too many whispers taking great delight in his absence— all it takes is one injury, and people are throwing words out there like career-ending and out for good. Nico would never say that. He would look at Jack thoughtfully, carefully, and tell him he expects to see Jack out on the ice again as soon as he can. Jack would do it, too. Anything if asked. He is a dog left at home too long, scratching at the door, waiting for the footsteps approaching down the hall to tell him he is not alone anymore. Someone will come for him, and then he will be alright. 

Jack will not tolerate the idea of a career-ending anything. The idea makes him sick to his stomach. He could never do anything but play. Being a spectator just might make Jack lose it once and for all. Imagining his team, his Devils, shooting back and forth across the ice, hearing the clash of the puck against their sticks, and then being separated from it all on the other side of the plastic dividers— it would drive him mad. Watching them win or lose and being unable to do a thing. Knowing he was no better than any of the other fans in the audience. He could wear a cheap copy of Nico’s jersey and jump up in his seat whenever the Devils scored and it would kill him more decisively than a gun to the head. 

So Jack does the stupid PT and he takes his pain meds and he goes to bed early, doesn’t drink, watches himself and his temper. And the door, mainly. Wondering if Nico will take him up on the offer he made a few days before the plane takes off:  Congrats man! U can come by my place to catch up if u want btw. 

He’d sent the text, bit back a scream, hurled his phone across the room to land on the sofa, immediately scurried over to check if Nico had responded (he had not), screamed for real this time, then taken more pills and stared at the ceiling for a while. All in a day’s work. 

And, when he checked back in the next morning, there was no return message. Nor the next day, either. It pisses Jack off to no end. Everyone’s always on their phones. There’s no way Nico hasn’t seen the text, so he simply isn’t responding because he doesn’t feel like it, which is just mean to such a good team player as Jack Hughes.

Stewing in his own self-righteous irritation, Jack intentionally ignores Nico’s text when it comes three days late. He glares at the notification bitterly, hoping that Nico can somehow sense it on the other end. Jack goes on Instagram in the hopes of distracting himself, but ends up seeing a post on how Nico’s plane has landed back in the States.

He’s back, then. Against his best intentions, Jack checks the text. Nico, 3 AM, Yeah, for sure. No date, no time for a meet-up. A pacifying answer that has absolutely no pacifying effect. Jack rages and rambles for two hours before he caves and texts back, was the flight good?

Twenty minutes later, the phone dings. Jack dives for it, immediately cursing his bad shoulder when it starts to twinge, and holds up the phone in trembling fingers only to register that Nico has replied with a thumbs up.

He’s going to slaughter the captain. He’s going to slaughter the captain and become the new captain and never do this to anyone ever again, ever. This is so stupid. Nico is capable of texting. Jack is capable of responding normally to a friendship disrupted by frequent flights and international games and only one of them having a fucked up shoulder. Right now, though, neither of them are acting like it.

He is proud of Nico, of course. Glad for him to have that opportunity and all that. But the ice seems extra cold when it’s quiet, and Jack hasn’t been able to feel his fingers in weeks, too many days below zero. He wants Nico back. Of course he does. He just hadn’t expected the wanting to take over him like this, wrapping brittle bones and surgery scars in a dense web of hurt that not even the painkillers can dull. 

Jack tries not to let the silence bother him, but, of course, it does. He goes to PT again. He calls his brothers one by one and hears them talk. He cleans up his apartment in case he gets a visitor, and maybe karma truly is real, because after several days of being a Good Person, Nico finally texts back and says, I can drop by Thurs evening if that’s cool?

Immediately, a jealous demon in his chest tells Jack that he should ignore Nico, just to get him back. Let Nico be the one waiting on the other line, wondering what he did to deserve the silence. Jack’s super good at being bitter if he wants it, and he feels mistreated enough to lash out.

Yeah. Sounds good.

He sends the text with his eyes closed, as if that makes it better. Like it isn’t Jack who caves but someone else, a doppelganger in Devils sweatpants slumped on the sofa in his apartment. Not his fault. Another thumbs up in response, which brings the anger back in force. Nico, of course, has the time to be casual in his responses. He’s the one who gets to swing by out of the blue. He can do anything he wants to, and Jack simply has to respect that.

When Thursday comes around, Jack finds himself mad enough to bite. It isn’t a good way to greet his captain. It isn’t a good way to meet with his friend. But Jack has been ignored for so long– calls unanswered, texts left on read– and he’s always devoured Nico’s attention far more greedily than anyone else. It’s not his fault that the crushing isolation left him sharp and smarting.

A knock on the door echoes around the problem, temporarily startling Jack out of the acidic monotony of his thoughts. He doesn’t need to check the door to know who it is. Only Nico would drop by like this, unannounced. Only Nico would assume Jack would be there to meet him with the bare minimum of text messages.

He could make Nico wait, and Jack certainly takes his time getting to the door, but then he’s hovering in front of the peephole and he can see a silhouette idling there for him, and it’s been so long since he saw Nico at all that Jack knows he doesn’t have it in him to keep Nico lingering any longer. Whatever happens, happens. But at least he’ll have a good face to look at in the meantime.

Jack’s hand jerks out, heavy on the knob, and then he swings the door open to reveal Nico standing there, hanging back from the threshold. His dark hair has crept out over his eyes, and it hides his face even more than the shadows of the poor high lighting. The contrast from the gasping fluorescents overhead paints dark hollows under his eyes, dramatic on his cheekbones. 

It reminds Jack of the Baroque portraits from the art museum the Devils had visited a while back. The PR agents wanted the players to seem more well-rounded or something. Bullshit. Jack had hated the trip, bored almost to tears with the slow pace of their guide, and he hates it now. Jack doesn’t want perfect art. He wants something real for the first time in months, and seeing his flawlessly posed captain makes him want to dirty that good bone structure with blood or his knuckles. Or both.

Nico raises his tragically beautiful eyes to Jack, waiting for something. Still brimming with bitterness, Jack says roughly, “Good to see you again,” and jerks his chin towards the inside of his apartment.

Nico takes the hint and slides past Jack, somehow able to go without touching him even though Jack had barely left him a few inches of room. Smooth on and off the ice. It’s so fucking unfair.

“Nice place,” Nico says, tugging off his coat and depositing it on a nearby kitchen chair.

“You’ve been here before,” Jack mutters.

Nico glances back towards him, arching a thick brow. “Does that mean I should say it looks like shit, then? It’s still nice even if this isn’t my first time seeing it.”

Jack laughs before he can choke it out. Although Nico hadn’t given any indication of being worried, his face relaxes microscopically. There’s no change Jack can name, nothing obvious like falling brows or slackening cheeks, but he knows the shift in feeling like it happened to himself.

“How’s the injury?” Nico asks, walking back to him.

“How do you think?” Jack spits, looking at the ground.

Nico tsks under his breath. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s fine,” Jack says out of impulse. “The guys at PT say I’ll be back on ice soon. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not just worried about what happens to you on the ice,” Nico says, voice low. “Off the ice matters too.”

Jack wants to laugh. He doesn’t, this time. Nothing’s funny. “You have some way of showing it.”

Nico does manage to look distinctly embarrassed this time. “I was busy,” he says simply.

It’s a bullshit excuse and Nico knows it too, so he covers for it by tugging impatiently at the thick material of Jack’s shirt. “Show me.”

“What?” Jack asks, tough demeanor seriously slipping for the first time all night.

“The shoulder,” Nico says, as if this is a normal thing to ask after being alone in Jack’s apartment with no one except Jack to ask what the fuck is going on. “Show me. I want to see how bad it looks.”

“It’s a shoulder,” Jack mumbles. “Imagine it.”

Nico fixes him with a look, one brow half cocked. Jack knows this look from practices, from games. It means, do you really want to fight me on this one? Jack usually does, but even this is too stupid a battle for him to pick, so he shuts up long enough to bat Nico’s hand off his shirt like a fleck of dust and do as told. He had meant to pull the top off in one smooth movement, but his shoulder disagrees midway through and the motion ends up being a little more awkward than he’d hoped.

Then he’s standing in front of Nico, shirt off, and under the overhead light of his kitchen, he feels far more on display than he likes. Jack has shown far more bruised and battered skin than this, of course, years’ worth of locker rooms have long since stripped him of any shame around teammates, but it’s different like this. Like this– with no other eyes than Nico’s, which swoop over him with such obvious care that hot embarrassment starts to churn deep in Jack’s stomach. He doesn’t like the feeling, but he doesn’t put the shirt back on, either. Or tell Nico to stop looking.

Nico’s hand darts out again, like he can’t stop himself. The fingers rise to Jack’s shoulder, ghosting over the skin. At first, Nico’s touch is gentle, and then he finds a slow-blossoming bruise and presses, not sharply enough to hurt but enough to make the dull ache bloom again in the precise shape of Nico’s thumb. Caught in the force of it, the air leaves Jack’s lungs in a low groan that seems to catch in his chest, deep in his throat.

He expects Nico to snatch his hand away and start making apologies like everyone else when they find out what a broken little thing he really is, but instead, Nico leans forward, into the sound. He doesn’t press any harder, but he looks like he wants to. And Jack– Jack might want that, too.

Nico’s tongue appears at the corner of his mouth, licking his lips before he continues. Jack watches with the hunger of a famine. “You should be careful,” Nico says huskily.

“Why?” Jack asks, fighting to keep his voice casual. “Going to bench me, cap?”

Nico’s hand spasms slightly, thumb curling further into the dark flower of the bruise before he stops himself. Jack can’t remember if he’s ever seen Nico react to the title like that, but Nico hasn’t had his hands on Jack like this before, either.

“I could do anything,” Nico whispers. Jack isn’t sure if they’re talking about hockey anymore. He isn’t sure that they ever were.

He snickers. “You can’t keep me off forever.”

Nico drags his gaze from the bruise to Jack’s eyes. “You always were the troublemaker, weren’t you? Not even Dawson’s as bad. Not even Luke. Always mouthing off.”

Something shifts indignantly in the pit of Jack’s stomach at the mention of his brother. He’d do anything to get Nico’s focus off Luke and back on him, where it belongs, so he says, “What’re you going to do? Shut me up?”

“Maybe,” Nico hesitates over the word, drawing out the syllables as he trails his hand away from the bruise and onto the thin, puckered line of a scar along Jack’s shoulder. He grazes his nails over the hardened skin, making Jack hiss, not from hurt but something else, something worse and better at the same time.

With Nico focused on the scar and not Jack anymore, he’s free to say something stupid again, no longer pinned under the weight of two dark eyes. So he grins, wide and bold and goddamn brainless, and says, “Make me.”

Nico’s eyes snap up to his again. There is an unwritten rule in hockey, practically a mandate, that the captain is the captain for a reason, and if anyone tries to fight that, it is the captain’s moral obligation to prove why he’s wearing the C and not anyone else. Even if the one causing trouble is an alternate. Even if it’s Jack.

Nico’s mouth is hot and assertive when it collides with Jack’s. Jack was ready for something but not for this, and he stumbles back from the force of the kiss. Nico’s arm whips behind him, catching Jack by the hip and bringing him back in, stopping him from a fall. Jack is reminded vividly of all the times they’re on the ice, one of them crashing into the other; the natural, instinctive urge to latch on and never let go. 

Nico’s eyes are closed and then Jack’s are, too. He lets the kiss swallow him whole, blocking out the shoulder and the games and everything else. Jack thinks he could stay there forever, hooked on Nico like his first drink, but then the older boy breaks away, even when Jack tries to chase his lips, needy as ever. Nico leans his forehead on Jack’s, both of them breathing hard like they’ve run a mile. 

“See? I like you quiet,” Nico says, breath gusting onto Jack’s face with every word.

“Shut up,” Jack says, and kisses him again, biting Nico’s lip petulantly to get him back.

Nico just chuckles, curling his free hand into the back of Jack’s head. Jack actually gasps when Nico tugs his hair, giving Nico more of his mouth, letting the kiss take him apart again and again. 

This time, Jack is the one to pull away first, and in the sliver of space between their lips Nico whispers, “I missed you.”

“You haven’t been acting like it,” Jack mutters, and squirms when Nico knots his fingers in Jack’s hair again.

“That’s what the attitude is about? I forgot to respond to a few texts and you get all stubborn?” Nico asks incredulously.

“It wasn’t just a few texts,” Jack pouts, “You keep ditching me. Thought you didn’t want to talk to me at all.”

Nico pulls away for real this time, leans back far enough that Jack can see his entire face instead of snatches of lips and eyes and red cheeks. The look on his face, it isn’t angry or annoyed– it’s fond. Satisfied. “I always want to talk to you, Jack. Don’t you know that?”

“I didn’t when you were ignoring me,” Jack murmurs.

The hand in his hair relaxes, combing gently through the locks instead of twisting them. “Alright,” Nico says, still painfully enamored, “That’s my mistake, then. Let me apologize.”

Jack lets him. Happily. The offseason is long. If he tries, he can drag this out for a long time, make Nico make it up to him for months. Jack isn’t ashamed to admit that he’ll do it as long as he can. Better yet, Nico will let him, and know what he’s up to the whole time anyway.

That’s the best part about them, Jack supposes. They know each other. On and off the ice. On and off each other. Maybe it’ll be a long summer, but God, it’s going to be a good one.

hockey tag list: empty for now!

talked about this to @faerieroyal ily

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[ike-garden2024]

Mirror Mirror 🪞

So I read this man’s route. The translated version provided by @aishangotome it was so good! There’s quite a few translations on their page. Go check it out!! 😄 It took me a couple days to process what I read because I binged the entire thing, including both endings 🤣 this is a mess of a post 🙈 the rest of this post will contain spoilers, if that’s not something you want to see please scroll away 😂 anyway thank you @aishangotome for your translation work! Now let’s talk about the man in question, Alfons

Warning ‼️ contains topics that may be uncomfortable to some including but not limited to: death, addictions, trauma, etc.

The tragic fate attached to his curse is exactly what I thought it would be, to be forgotten by everyone who knew him after he dies. I can only imagine how painful that is. Lots of people nearing death tend to talk about their memories a lot and often I’ve heard them say “I’ll be remembered for x,y,z”, Alfons can’t have that… well, not completely… I like that the writers added the part of Roger and Kate doing some research of people who were involved with someone who has the mirror curse. It opened up another avenue, the name and face may be forgotten but the impact the cursed one had on the other person is not. In fact it leaves the person with a sense of emptiness, like they’ve forgotten something important. While that can be painful, it also means that the life of the cursed one matters, they’re important. I can imagine that no one wants to leave their loved ones with that kind of pain, a pain that will never really heal over time because they’ll always be wondering what/who their forgetting and that could potentially lead to always trying to find answers. It can potentially drive a person crazy. Despite all that, I think I agree with Kate. All of that pain and suffering is worth it. Sure you end up making memories that you’ll eventually forget and you’ll forget the important person but, your body and emotions don’t forget, it’s still actively being felt. That’s why Alfons loving Kate means tearing her life to shreds, leaving unforgettable marks on her entire being. It’s also why he’d prefer to die after her, he genuinely doesn’t want to be forgotten by her. I think in the fake wedding event epilogue she says something about dying together 🤔 I can’t quite remember.

Moving on! The way he goes about using his abilities doesn’t strike me as “evil” necessarily. On his personal time I mean!! He’s certainly making criminals go mad as part of his judgement on them 😂 although it’s a bit twisted, the way he makes himself available for random people to use his power is a form of care. It’s not good to run away from the reality of a situation but many times people wish they could. That’s kind of where addictions and bad habits come from. But even if it’s not that extreme, reading a favorite book, watching a favorite show, playing a game, etc. are also ways to escape reality for a while. I like the way the character Alfons basically encompasses the idea of escapism. It’s an extreme version of something everyone does in their own way. I’ve always loved how writers have the ability to create a whole new world where you can just get lost in. It’s what inspires my career choice and seeing people’s reactions to anime, games, stories, etc. continues to motivate me. I’d love to help create a world one day for people to enjoy. Reading Alfons’s route weirdly motivated me more 😂 without moderation, anything can become an addiction, but it’s sometimes hard to create these moderations. Alfons always makes himself available, his free time is literally dedicated to sex addicts behind a bar and people in the east side(?) of London. Moderation is not in that man’s vocabulary 🤣 He can say it’s for entertainment all he wants but I think he’s somewhat genuinely concerned 😂 he’s like a drug though, have a small taste and you end up wanting more and more.

I don’t particularly like the man’s personality but I understand it a lot better now. I can somewhat respect it but thats it 🤣 His lifestyle choice truly is understandable after reading his story and the “why” behind it all pulls at my heart a bit. Honestly the way he found out about his curse and fate did not help at all 😂 like young Roger had absolutely no consideration when he dropped the info on him. To young Roger it was like “a new subject!” Damn, what if he would’ve turned out a little different had young Roger just gone about it a different way. I believe this is the reason they don’t get along(?) it’s my understanding at least. When the route comes out in English I’m looking forward to reading his side stories to get to know him even more. I definitely find him interesting from a writing perspective. Great character concept and execution!

AH! I forgot to touch on the Elbert/Alfons dynamic. They’re so cute 🥰 you can really tell they care for each other. With their silly bets, Alfons leaving Elbert a handwritten note, and just other things 🤭 it’s great

This is such a bad pile of notes, I apologize for any mistakes but I needed to get my thoughts down and out 😂 Thank you

[ifearimaybeanamericanidiot]

could u do a smut where Chris is just constantly playfully teasing the reader (ruffling her hair, humping the air if she bends over, calling her names) and the whole time she’s trying to get his attention and seduce him but he doesn’t get it until she gets annoyed and has to explain herself

Chris x reader

TW: smut, uhhhh language ig, angst?

We're filming a video for the guys' Friday post. Well, we were. Now, we're just sitting in the car and talking about random shit. Chris is in the front with Matt. I'm in the back with Nick and their friend Kaitlyn. Apparently, they had just recently gotten close with her and wanted her to have fun with the Friday video too.

Honestly, I don't see how they like her. I don't. Normally, I'm a girl's girl. The whole time, she was pushing me away though. The angle is hard to get right in the car when it's more than just the guys. Everyone knows that. Nick is in his usual spot, Kaitlyn took the middle, so I'm sitting behind Chris's seat. Normally, I wouldn't mind because it's not a big deal. I can just peak around his seat to be in frame. Except, Kaitlyn talks with her hands which gives me into the back corner hidden by Chris.

At one point, she literally pushed my head back. Nick, Chris, and Matt were so involved in arguing that they didn't notice though. Kaitlyn, of course, was right in the middle with all the typical pick me lines. 'Guys, this isn't you 🥺' It's so fucking annoying.

Plus, she's all up on Chris and Matt. She's touching their arms, twirling and flicking her hair. It's so stupid. She's so stupid. A pang of guilt strikes me as I think it.

"We should go back to your place." Kaitlyn drags her hand down Chris's arm. "Wouldn't that be fun?" She turns to Matt. "We can drop little miss hermit back here off." Never fucking mind. I'm glad I thought she was stupid. And a bitch.

"No, we're having a sleepover? The fuck?" Nick intervenes. I love him. He's a good friend.

"Oh. Whatever. Me, Chris, and Matt will have fun." I roll my eyes and grab my phone. I text Nick.

| tf is her problem.

| I have no fucking clue- she's getting on my nerves though

| THEY DON'T WANNA FUCK YOU BITCH

| 🤭🤭🤭

Kaitlyn tries to peer at mine and Nick's phone screens. I'm glad we invested in the privacy screen protectors.

| I'm going to text the GC to see if there's any chance of shaking her.

I give Nick a subtle thumbs up. After a minute, Nick frowns. Matt starts the car and begins pulling out of the driveway. Shit.

| I'm guessing Chris and Matt are oblivious as fuck?

| 100%

I frown, closing my messages and turning my phone off. Come on guys, see what a dick she is. I turn to look out the window and wait for this awful ride to be over. Kaitlyn non stop flirts the whole time. It's ridiculous. And since Matt is driving, pretty much all of her attention is on Chris.

It's driving me crazy. It's not fair. I was so sure Chris had feelings for me too. I had planned on telling him about my feelings soon, but now, with this girl, I don't know. Maybe he was just being nice to me.

We get to the house and before the car has stopped, I'm flinging open my car door and jumping out. I slam the door closed, stomping up to the front of the house. I grab the extra key from under the potted plant and let myself in. It's ridiculous.

I fly up the stairs to Nick's room. I know he'll be up in a minute so I'm satisfied with just waiting right here. I think about all the times Chris cuddled up against me during movie nights. Or how he would pick up a chunk of my hair and start playing with it, wrapping it around his finger only to let it fall back. Or the many times I would bend over to pick something up and he would place his hands on my hips, acting as though he was fucking me. Friends don't do that shit, right?

I express all of this to Nick when he comes up to his room, locking his door behind him. "I just- I'm so mad."

"I understand, sort of." Nick lays on his bed. "Chris does like you, I'm sure of it. I don't know why he's acting like this though."

"What was the witch doing when you came up?" I ask, not sure if I really want to know.

"Oh, Chrissy poo! Matty poo! Let's watch a movie!" Nick does his best impression of Kaitlyn. I laugh hard.

"Let's go bake something." I suggest. Nick oooo's at the idea but suggests changing clothes first. He changes into just a T-shirt and shorts. I get an evil little idea. "Nick, can I borrow one of your shirts? But like, one that Chris and Matt haven't really seen?"

"Sure," he grabs one out of the very back of his closet. "An ex got it for me as a gag gift." He explains. It's a light pink shirt that says 'daddy's girl' in a ridiculous flowy font. I giggle.

"Do you think Chris would die over this?" I ask.

"He'd get a kick out of the shirt alone, if you wear that one pair of shorts you have though-" I know exactly what pair he means. The pair I've had since the 8th grade, the pair that I wore to band camp. They stick to me like glue, and barely go down three inches. I left them here one night. I pull them from a drawer and force them on. The shirt covers my ass, unless I bend over or lift my arms. Perfect.

"Do I look good?" I ask.

"You look perfect." Nick assures me. We head downstairs. "Should we make cupcakes?"

"I'm down for whatever!" I bounce down the stairs. These shorts bring back memories of baking out in the high noon heat in July for hours. They fill me with the confidence of a 16 year old girl that's just perfected rifle turns.

"Hey! Where'd you two go?" Chris's head pops up off of the couch.

"Oh, just to change, we're about to make cupcakes!" I say before Nick can. He goes into the kitchen, probably to get the stuff out.

"Oooo, cupcakes!!" Mat claps his hands together. I smile, and turn around to walk into the kitchen. I let my hips swing a little more than they usually would.

Chris, Matt, and Kaitlyn end up following me into the kitchen. They don't really do much. I get Nick the things he needs, and he does all the mixing. It's a good process.

"Shit." He drops a spoon.

"It's fine! I got it!" I bend over to pick it up. I feel hands on my hips, and for the first time ever, something hard brushes against me. There's a gasp and heavy stomps.

"How dare you! I've been trying all night!" Kaitlyn stomps out of the room, Matt following her. I stand up. Nick puts the cupcakes into the oven.

"I'm going to make sure Matt gets rid of her. Watch the cupcakes." Then, he leaves the room. Now, it's just me and Chris.

I hop up onto the counter. Chris strikes to ruffle my hair but I dodge him. "Hey-" he says sadly.

"No. Don't do that sad shit. You should have thought about this before you let her practically suck your dick the whole night." I say it without thinking. "You don't get to have her and me."

"I don't want her." I roll my eyes at him. "I'm serious. I was just being nice." He fits himself between my legs. "I should have told you. I want you."

"Yeah, you should have." I cross my arms.

"You're so pretty, you know that? Your sweet face, perfect body, great personality." He trails off. "Can I make it up to you?"

"You could fuck me." I say jokingly.

"Okay." He unzips his jeans, the rare time he actually wore them. "I'll fuck you so good."

"I was kidding. Just cause I've been trying to get in your pants doesn't mean I'm going to take advantage like this."

"You've been what." It doesn't sound like a question.

"I've been trying to seduce you, one could say."

"Fuck, please let me fuck you." He leans his head against mine. "Been wanting you, didn't think you wanted me back. Please, let me fuck you over the counter, right here. Right now." The heat in the bottom of my stomach makes me give in to what I want.

"Okay, gotta be quick. Before Nick gets back." He nods and kisses me. I'm surprised but I kiss back. Quickly, the kiss is over and he's bending me over the counter, face down. He merely pushes the shorts to the side to allow himself access to slip in.

He does. God, he's big. His dick feels huge inside me, his hands feeling goat trailing my body. I feel like he's crowding me with his size.

"Move, please move." I plead with him. He moves slowly at first, pulling back a few inches before fucking that back in. "Please, Chris. Fuck me." He pulls out, leaving just the top inside before sinking all the way in. From there, he's fucking me into the counter. He leans down, changing the angle and talking in my ear.

"Fuck, princess. You feel so good. Perfectly taking my dick. My good girl." He wraps his hand around to thumb at my clit. "Daddy's good girl." It isn't long before I'm squeezing around him in the height of my orgasm. It isn't too terribly long before he's pulling out to finish across my thighs.

"Fuck." He steps away, coming back and wiping my legs with a paper towel.

"You took me so good. M so proud of you." He picks me up, hugging me tightly. He presses kisses all across my face.

[secretninjadonut]

| After Party | Aespa

Yoo Jimin (Karina) x fem reader

Fluff 😋😋

I just feel like a real fluff mood RN 😐😐😐

This was after Aespa’s performance of Spicy at waterbomb festival and everyone had changed into warm clothes but there was a party after just to have fun and Aespa was attending so here you were in a car driving to the party with your head resting on Karina’s shoulder.

You listened as the four of them conversed talking about how great the party is going to be and then spoke when they asked “Y/N/N don’t you think it’s going to be fun?” and you responded with a yawn and said “Yeah but I’m tired now after performing in wet clothes” and Karina cooed at you while the others laughed at your reaction and Winter said “it’s cute how you are when your tired” and you defended yourself and said “Yah I’m literally not even that cute and also just because I’m the maknae doesn’t make everything I say and do cute” a pout forming on your face as they all cooed at you and Giselle said “it does and your pout makes it even better” and everyone agreed even NingNing said “It’s actually so cute and when your mad too” you respond with “Ning we’re not even that far apart in age” and you turn away from them just to see Karina’s teasing face and you sigh as you hug onto her arm and she plays with your hair turning your band mates attention away thankfully not seeing your red face.

You soon arrived and went into the party NingNing soon found the le sserafim girlies and partnered up with Yunjin while Giselle and Sakura talked and Eunchae sat next to them drinking apple juice, you stuck with Karina as she spoke with Chaewon occasionally involving you while they sat down and you snuggled up to her breathing in her scent. Winter was with Kazuha laughing quite loud and in annoyance you just tried to fall asleep and you did in Karina’s embrace.

Half an hour later you woke up and looked up at Karina who was petting your hair and still talking with Chaewon this time clearly slurring words and she said “Y/N baby you woke up I just had a couple drinks don’t worry” but indeed you did worry at her slurred words you texted the group chat with all your band mates and said that your taking Karina home because she drank too much while you bowed and said goodbye to Chaewon holding Karina’s hand and tugging her into the black limo you had come in.

You nuzzled up to her in the car as well her arm around your waist and the other holding your hand when you said “Rina drink this” handing her a bottle of water to sober up she slurred out “Thanks baby”you guys arrived back at the dorm and you changed into her oversized hoodie and it was huge on you but you liked it and threw on some sweatpants while you went to go help her wipe off her makeup and get her clothes to change her breath fanned on your neck while you wiped off her makeup. Your red face was on full display now and she teased you every minute for it saying things like “awww is my baby flustered” or “darling do you like my breath fanning against your neck?” you in response quiet and then you told her to go change into the pyjamas you picked for her and she obliged.

She came back fully dressed and saw you on her bed which was disrupted a second later with her jumping on top of you while she wrapped you in her arms and turned you around so she was laying down with you on her chest. You quickly nuzzled into her neck and wrapped your legs around her waist with her arms around your waist securely she asked “you like my cuddles hm?” and you nodded quickly hearing her chuckle above you and her chest vibrate while you were falling asleep on top of her.

In the morning you both woke up in the same position and she kissed the top of your head making you flush and heat rise quickly to your face as you look up with innocent doe eyes and she laughs saying “your so innocent but also I need to get water and pills my head is banging” you quickly get up and kiss her on the cheek while saying “I’ll get them for you babe” while she blushes slightly at the nickname and you just wink in response.

[yanderefarm]

I had a random idea involving prisoner yan so I’m here once again in your inbox:3 be prepared this will probably make little sense

with the scenario of final boy reader there isn’t a lot of room for like domestic fluffy moments, which is something I love don’t get me wrong, but prisoner yan might be annoyed at his darlings refusal of his love! :(

Imagine having him in a basement somewhere isolated, out in the woods somewhere. You’ve beaten and bruised him, broken his bones, taken his limbs, starved and drowned him. The whole nine yards, anything your sadistic brain can think of :3, but then it’s like a switch flips. You’re finally being tender with him for the first time and after all the harsh treatment it’s like a breath of fresh air! But the love doesn’t last long and as soon as he’s even partially healed it’s right back to torment. You make him think he did something wrong and that’s why you are no longer affectionate. Repeat the cycle, drive him mad with confusion on what he’s doing wrong. After long enough soon he won’t be able to tell the difference between the love and the abuse :3

does this make sense 😭 I hope it does I was thinking about this all morning

-🪐 anon <3

honestly i love this idea.... good way to break him.

i also imagine like the reader having no one else in their life anymore. everyone else has kind of abandoned them after the trauma took its toll on their mind so the only thing even resembling a family or love is the prisoner. he has what he's always wanted even without intending to, he's the center of your universe. so everytime a major holiday comes around or you're just so exhausted from all the endless abuse. you are genuinely sweet with him, not even as the act but because you just want to hold someone and love them for a moment.

a quiet peaceful thanksgiving dinner, he's cuffed to a chair so he can't stand up and he has limited movement of his arms. the little clank of the chains always reminding you it's not normal but you keep acting like it is. or a Christmas spent curled up by the fire, he's bound and gagged while you cuddle against his broad chest. you even got him a Christmas present and one you bought for yourself for him to pretend to give you.

it's sad how desperate for the little bit of normalcy you are. how you cling to the man who took everything from you because you have no one else. how deep down a part of you knows that you can't kill him even if you want to because somehow you've formed a sick sense of love for this monster. he knows it. he knows you love him. he takes every bit of abuse and torture in stride because he knows that you're just showing him how deep your love burns.

he promises if he gets free he'll kill you, he describes all the horrific graphic things he'll do with you as he kills you. but deep down a part of him knows that killing you would be the kindest thing he could do, its the only way he could properly reciprocate all the love you've poured into him. even if he fully intends to keep your corpse as his girlfriend.