#every other context do not say yes. Do not. Atop it. Stop

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

im going to kill the next person that responds yes to this or that question

IF I ASK YOU IS THERE A PROBLEM WITH THE PACKAGING OR PRODUCT THE ANSWER IS NEVER 'YES'

IF I SAY DO YOU WANT TO MEET IN THE MORNING OR AFTERNOON YOU CANT SAY YES

stop it. STOP ITTTTTTT.

[maladaptive-day-dreams]

NEED ME SOME ROBIN FUCKING THE STRESS OUT OF READER

Like (you already know the context) but thinking abt reader storming into robins apartment pissed to all hell and ranting about her family and Robin is like “mhm…want me to get your mind off of it?” And reader is like “yes please”

you got it babes

nsfw under the cut: Robin x stressed reader (oral, vibrator, rough sex with a strap-on, multiple orgasms, choking, hair-pulling, pet names "bunny"and "love" are used)

You were not having a good day. Not at all, you're mom was being a downright idiot, her fling was getting on your nerves and you were stressed the fuck out and needed something to take the edge off.

You only gave your girlfriend Robin a 10 minute warning text before you used your spare key to barge into her apartment and straight into her open arms.

"Bunny what's going on?"

"My family being idiots again, mom is getting on my nerves, her fling is stressing me out and I just-UGH."

She rubs your back soothingly, "mhm...want me to get your mind off of it, love?"

"Yes, please," you mumble into her chest.

She picks your face up to hers and kisses you deeply, her tongue swiping the seam of your lips and delving into your mouth when you open it for her. She kisses you dizzy, slowly walking the two of you back to her room. She keeps your mouths together while she works to undress you, running her hands over every inch of skin she uncovers as she does. Once you're undressed she stops kissing you briefly so she can take off her own shirt, her sports bra, pants and boxers following quickly after.

Hands roam each others bodies as you continue kissing, but Robin has plans for you so she gets you laying on the bed quickly, her hand finding its place between your thighs, stroking your pussy before pressing circles into your clit. She smiles into your lips as you moan at the connection. Your legs want to squeeze her arm to keep it there but she keeps them apart with her own and makes her way down your body, kissing down your throat and sucking each pert nipple into her mouth before trailing down your stomach to where you need her most.

She starts there, her hot wet mouth breathing warm air onto your cunt. She licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit and you buck your hips up in pleasure, her arm moving to hold your hips down as she starts tracing circles around your clit with her tongue before sucking on the bud, a loud moan leaving your lips when she does. Your hand finds hers resting on your stomach and you intertwine them, squeezing each time she sucks at your clit. Your back arches off the bed when her fingers start pushing into you. Robin fucks you with her fingers while sucking on your clit until your first orgasm of the night washes over you.

You're already a bit spent when Robin's wet mouth and chin comes back into view. Smiling as if you were drunk you say, "thank you for distracting me."

She laughs. And you're a bit confused.

"Oh bunny, that's not all I'm doing to distract you babe."

She kisses you with wet lips before standing to get something out of your toy box. You can taste yourself on your lips. The lips that fall open when Robin comes back with her strap and with your favorite vibrator in her hand.

"What-"

"Don't worry, love, I've got you. Do you trust me?"

Without hesitation you say, "yes."

And that's her sign to get back between your legs. After placing the toys on the bed beside you, she bends down from her kneeling position and peppers kisses on your belly and up your neck until she reaches your lips. She kisses you longer here, her hands trailing up and down your sides until goosebumps form. With that she moves her right leg atop your left and your left atop her right so your bare cunts are a breath apart from each other.

You can feel her heat from this distance and you're craving her. A desperate whine of her name "Robin, please" has her lowering herself onto you. Rocking her pussy against yours as she reaches beside you.

You hear the buzz before you feel the toy. She lifts her hips and places your favorite bullet vibrator on your pussy. You buck your hips at the sudden stimulation and cry out when she sandwiches the toy between the two of you. Your hands try to find purchase on her hips but lose and instead you grip tightly to your comforter as she rocks against you.

Her arousal and your mix on the toy between you and your hips rise seek hers with every grind of her hips. You didn't realize your eyes were closed until you feel a grip on your throat, hard enough to startle you but not enough to stop your breathing. Eyes shooting open the sight above you is heaven. Robin moving against you and the toy, her tits swaying with her hips. Her faint squeezing of your neck and the buzz of the tip of the vibrator hitting your clit, has your cunt clenching around nothing ads you get closer and closer to your next climax.

You can tell Robin is getting closer too, her breath coming in pants and her hips grinding faster and faster on yours. She rides you and the toy faster and faster until the two of you cry out at the same time, your cry being cut short as her hand reflexes tighter on your throat when she cums. She takes her hand from your neck and you breath deeper, her body and your legs shaking as vibrator continues to go between your pussies. Her hand is warm when it reaches between you to pull the vibrator out. She rests her wet pussy on your own and you feel her cum dripping onto you.

She stays like this, warm wet cunts against each other as she kisses you deeply and then moves to stand on shaky legs.

You smile up at her, drunk on sex, and watch in a stupor as she puts on her strap. She looks over at you once she has it on and smiles at you, and then she's back between your legs.

"Rob, I can't," you whine, body spent and brain foggy.

"I think you can, one more, bunny, just one more, ok?"

You nod your head she kisses you sweetly, before tapping your waist. "Turn over for me, love."

You do as she asks, slowly of course, legs unsteady from two other orgasms. Robin kneels behind you and lifts your hips up just a little more. She swipes two fingers through your pussy lips and uses your two orgasms to get her strap ready for you. She lines the tip of her cock at your entrance and slowly pushes into you, a breathy moan leaving your mouth as she buries it to the hilt, her front coming to rest on your back for a moment. She pulls back and rocks forward at a steady rhythm, her hands on your waist holding her steady as she fucks you.

You try to hold yourself up on your arms but find yourself slipping, coming down to your elbows, your cheek resting on the pillow as Robin plows into you from behind. But you don't stay that way for long, Robin's hand strokes the back of your neck leading into the hair at the base and gripping, pulling you up by your hair. You moan at the tension, falling back towards her easily until you're practically sitting up against her as she fucks into you from below you now, the new angle hitting your g-spot just right and just enough for you to scream, "I'm so close!"

You can feel Robin's smile before she kisses your shoulder ,damp from sweat. Her pace thrusting in and out of you and her grip on your hair staying the same while her free hand comes to your front and her fingers start tracing circles on your clit. A few rough thrusts and small circles around your bud has you squeezing her strap and cumming the hardest you have all night.

You're body falls onto her and she holds you up while she fucks you through your orgasm. Chest heaving you squeeze her thigh gently and she stops her movement, helping you off of the toy and back onto the bed. She bends down to kiss your hip before getting off of the bed and walking into the adjoining bathroom. She comes back without her strap on and with a warm wet washcloth to clean you up before going back to the bathroom to clean herself up.

You hear the water running before she comes back and Robin coaxes you up and into the bathroom, getting you settled in the water before going back to strip the messy comforter off the bed and start a quick load of laundry.

She joins you in the warm water and the two of you doze in the bath until the washing machine goes off thirty minutes later. Robin leaves the bath first. Changing into sweats and a tee before switching the comforter from the wash to the dryer and coming back to help you out. She dries you off and helps you into pajamas and then the two of you cook and eat dinner while the comforter dries. As soon as the dryer goes off though, it goes on the bed and the two of you slide right in for the most restful sleep you've gotten in a while.

THE END I HOPE YOU ENJOYED GNIGHT NOW

[cypreus-and-willow]

2, 8, 29, 43 For the fic asks if u wanna

2. Where do you get your fic ideas?

Honestly, just from random places. I tend to theorize a lot. But sometimes the theories border on headcanon and are kinda whack (hence my other name 'The Crack Theorist') even tho they're mostly based on actual observations. For example, my Digimon Survive Highschool gang came to me when I was wondering abt the job of Shuuji's dad - is he a doctor? A politician?

Then i remembered his dad tells Shuuji he doesnt have the 'qualities befitting a Kayama son'. So I thought well what are the opposites of Shuuji's natural qualities? Possibly strength, ruthlessness, cunning, blah blah. And the stupid area of my brain concludes that his dad works for the mafia. And thats how the Gang AU was born.

As for my non AU fics, I try to stick as close to canon as possible... but they're still centered around some headcanons.

29. What's something about your writing that your proud of?

That they're self indulgent. Ive spent a lot of time, worrying abt word count thinking that its only good if its 1000+ words every chapter.

But now, esp w/ my shorter fics, i try to just write whatever feels right for the story. To let a story end at 300 words because its what feels right to me. Sometimes I sit down to write one memo and 2000 words come out and its fantastic but Ive stopped trying to force that feeling every time I write.

(And also that I can somewhat effectively mix purple and biege prose together even tho ive never heard of those terms until recently)

43. Is there a trope or idea that you'd really like to write but haven't yet?

Coffee Shop AU? Or maybe the florist and tattoo artist? Lol

Im mostly an angst writer. So sometimes I get curious abt what its like to write the cheezy cliche stuff. It doesnt have to be romance, I just want them to be happy.

(I cant believe Pet Shop AU is canon in TokRev - I feel blessed)

Oh, I was watching the first Pacific Rim the other day and wanted to write something on that. That drift compatibility is really something huh?

8. Post an out-of-context spoiler from a wip

CW mentions child death

The boy of red hair and twenty years looks up to the sky as a creature of thundering swords swoops down from the heavens. The strike of his blade cleaving the ground in two. From afar, he watches Ifrit crawl with the last of his strength towards the open ground bubbling with grief's plague. Raindrops hang on the tips of red eyelashes. Refusing to blink as the water falls over smouldering rock. There he sees the body of his keeper burning atop the lifeless earth. And remembers the day they drowned his mother. Fire is the essence of life in Solheim. In the temple of Ifrit, his mother taught him the ways of fire. Of healing warmth. Water. Rain. Is the herald of death. “Tianna.” “Yes child?” Though now his height inches over hers, she calls him child all the same. And it gives his heart comfort that some things remain the same. Even in this strange new world where fire burns under the rain and children are taken from their beds to their graves. “Stay with me.”

From the first ever fic I wrote in June 2018 but never published. I wrote like 3000+ words in one night. Also based on a crack theory.

Tho maybe I misunderstand this question...

Spoiler: Aoi slaps Shuuji’s brother while saying "How f*cking dare you"

[falling-pages]

A hug and chicken noodle soup: Takashi x Reader

Feel better @ohshcscenerios <3

-

Maybe love was as simple as a hug and chicken noodle soup.

-

Takashi Morinozuka x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: None

-

Takashi was not used to being disobeyed.

The national martial arts champion, head of his own security firm, and father of three was used to holding power in his massive hands, for the room to fall silent at his command. He made the decisions, though with valid input from others, but he was the top dog, the one on whose authority they relied. Respect emanated from his veins, care and courage were his pedestal. When he gave an order, it was for the greater good of his company, or the safety of those he loved.

So when he returned home to find you washing the dishes, he was absolutely livid.

Not at your disobedience, per se. He was used to your sass, your jokes, your spitfire ways. Fourteen years of marriage would do that to a person, especially one as easygoing as him. But at your abject defiance, going against his advice for your own good--did you not trust him?

“What are you doing?”

You dropped the cup you were washing, the water splashing against your apron and the wall in retaliation. Soap bubbles clung to your arms, and with your deer-in-headlights stare, one would have thought he had just caught you stealing the Hope Diamond rather than just a simple chore.

“Takashi, I…” you sputter, wiping strands of hair away from your face. They had escaped from the bundle atop your head and creased your neck and forehead, though sticking with sweat or water he couldn’t be sure. If it were sweat, so help him, he was going to tie you down to the bed himself.

He left the shadows of the threshold and walked noiselessly towards you, groceries weighing heavily in his hands. You dare not move, pinned to the spot by his steely gaze. Your husband was a quiet man, not often prone to outbursts of emotions despite a wildly passionate heart. But like a predator towards prey, he came closer, until you saw the disappointment lining his brow.

Disappointment was always worse than anger.

But when he approached you, so close you could feel the energy radiating off his skin, so close but not touching, all that was left in his eyes was concern, a worried quirk on his lips that left knots in your stomach. Kindness framed him as he set down the groceries, took a towel, and wiped down your arms, leaving them soft and dry.

“I thought I told you to get some rest, love,” he whispered.

You swallowed, wincing at the ache in your throat. “I tried, I really did, but this was the only time I could get some chores done,” you whined. “The kids are with your parents this weekend, and it’s finally quiet and I can do stuff without worrying about watching them--”

“My parents took the children because you’re sick,” he responded, voice measured and even. His tone was stark, hands lingering on your wrist. Not tight enough to bruise, but enough to remind you of his strength. “You need to rest. I told you I would do the dishes once I got back.”

“But I--”

“Darling.”

His eyes flickered with hurt, and though he was never a man prone to begging, he would do anything to stop you hurting. Every weak inhale you took he felt in his own lungs, trapped and weak and congested. With the raging fever you were sporting this morning, it was a wonder you were even standing right now.

With a sigh, you let the dish fall into the puddle and stepped off your footstool--everything in this house was freakishly tall to accommodate his height--as he untied your apron, hanging it on the peg behind you. While his hands wandered around your waist, enjoying how you felt in his embrace, he bent to press a kiss behind your ear.

“I hate it when you’re hurting,” he murmured.

His warm voice broke through the gauze wrapping around your brain, and you sighed, relaxing against his chest. So warm, the only stable thing in your swimming vision.

“There’s nothing you can do about it,” you said.

“Yes there is.” He scooped you up in his arms, bridal style, and smashed his mouth against your neck, kissing and nuzzling your sweaty skin. “Go to bed, and I’ll make you some soup.”

Despite your squeals, broken and congested before they left your mouth, hiccupped and weak, you didn’t push him away, finally letting him baby you into bed. He walked seamlessly to your bedroom and pulled back the covers with you still clinging to his neck. As he lowered you down, you could have cried at how soft the sheets felt, cool silk against your sore muscles, warmth immediately drawing you into sleep. He layered the blankets on top of you before walking to the other side of the bed, climbing in and drawing the sheets around him before spooning you back against his chest.

His arms were rapture in and of themselves, an escape from your burning head and weak lungs, so tight and strong that you knew he would keep you safe from any sickness trying to harm you. His gentle breaths against your ear calmed your heart, tickling that part of your brain that sparked with love. Even as his lips traveled across your cheek you could barely find the energy to scold him.

“Taka,” you whined, as seriously as your hoarse voice would let you. “Stop...you’ll get sick…”

“I’ll be fine,” he whispered, smooth and comforting like chocolate or rain. Another kiss to your temple, slicking down to the underside of your jaw. “My body has been through worse.”

Though that much was true, it still irritated you. How could he reprimand you for disobeying him and then not even listen when you do the same?

“‘S not the same,” you mumble. “Being shot is a different kind of pain, I’d imagine.”

Takashi chuckled against your neck. Your mind traced over the diagram of his body, the scars stretching across his chest and neck, dyeing his hands and striping through his legs. His line of work was dangerous, full of deceit and corruption, but you knew he’d never have it any other way. “You’re right, my love. A bullet hurts like hell.” He wrapped you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe, but you welcomed the loving suffocation. “But I’d take them all over again if it meant you and our little ones were safe.”

Grisly and gruesome though his words were, they comforted you, lulled you into the security that he worked so hard to provide. Though you prayed it would never come to it, you knew he would lay down his life in a second to ensure yours or your children’s happiness. He even showed his love in less extreme ways--for example, forcing you to rest, holding you as you slept, even at the risk of his own health.

Over and over again you were amazed at the selfless love of the man you married.

Before you could even stop it, the tears were falling from your eyes, stinging the hot skin of your cheeks. Your heart felt full to bursting, and its hammering through your chest didn’t help at all. The world felt full of sunlight yet you clinched your eyes shut to keep in the tears, but they didn’t fool him.

Takashi felt you shake and quickly turned you over onto your back, laying you beneath him as he hovered above, one hand wiping your tears as the other held fast to your waist. “Look at me,” he whispered, the urgency in his voice making your eyes pop open. He stroked your cheek, running his finger along your nose, cooing and shushing until your gaze met his. And as soon as you saw that beautiful smile split his tan face, you knew everything would be okay.

“There she is,” he whispered, tenderly stroking beneath your eye. “Does it hurt that badly?”

“No,” you whispered. “It’s not the fever. It’s the feeling of being loved so terribly.”

Never a man of words, he furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I love you so, so much.” A dry sob creases out your throat. “I’m so glad I married you, and I’m so glad you’re the father of my kids, and I’m so glad I not only know, but get to love such a wonderful man for the rest of my life.”

He chuckled at your delirious confession, words he had all heard before but sounded more tender in the context of your sickness. Such tenderness in your voice soothed the aches and quells of his body, the wounds he had sustained inside and out during his life, until all that was left was you with a rag and antiseptic and a bandage. He adored you so deeply that though he wanted to hear you say more, it was imperative that you rest.

“I’m so blessed to have you by my side. I love you,” he whispered, giving you a gentle kiss. He frowned at how hot your lips were and resigned himself for the afternoon. “Go to sleep, beloved. When you wake, I’ll make you soup.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, the crying finally tuckering you out. Pliantly, you rolled back over onto your side, and he laid back behind you, guiding your head to rest against his bicep and laying his other arm over your waist. As you drifted back off to sleep, you could only think of one thing.

Love really could be as simple as a hug and chicken noodle soup.

-

Kofi

[bigskydreaming]

Lestat: I reject their attempts to confine me to a false binary of good and evil, as though a mere two extremes could ever encompass all that I am, my intricacies, my nuances!

Louis: ....where you going with this, Lestat.

Lestat: I REFUSE to be hated for being evil, for simply being the antithesis of good! Positioned as such not even by any particular choice or deed - despite the dizzying wealth of possibilities I offer to choose from - but rather as a given absolute which springs forth unearned, unasked, unsought...taking root from the mere fact that just as equally do I reject the restrictions of being ‘good.’ How....limiting a palette with which to paint my mark upon the world and throughout history, but only ever in varying shades of two colors and two colors only! How....unrefined a palate to be burdened with, an albatross about my neck as I voyage through all of my tomorrows without end, bequeathed as I am with all of eternity and its endless feast of experiences as sup for me to dine upon....except treacherously, their infinite array of possibilities only ever present themselves to my tongue as insufficiently salted or overwhelmingly sweet, nothing more and nothing less. Certainly nothing other!

Louis: *literally stopped paying attention three words in*

Lestat: Nay, I say! I will not abide the complexity of my motivations, the spectrum that spills forth from all my multi-faceted glory to illuminate all that my shadow has passed over and left forever changed in my wake...I will not tolerate that all of this be eroded to dust by the failure of insipid fools to open their eyes wide enough that they might see the full breadth of it all! That small minds living small lives be allowed to chip away at everything that sets me apart from them til naught is left but mere slivers of a stature like enough to their own insignificance, they too can exist within these narrow margins of ‘good’ and ‘evil’....all while these master craftsmen congratulate themselves for having reshaped something so much vaster than they into an image small enough to fit the confines of their comprehension. Proclaiming their understanding of the world to now be greater than it was before, and what their blunt, unsubtle tools have wrought to be ‘art’....it is unconscionable! How banal a fate for the fingerprint only I can leave upon the windowpane of this world, reduced to an unseemly smudge when once it was a labyrinth of all the paths only I have trod through life, a palimpsest placed atop every page of every story I have been a part of! How plebeian! How pedestrian! How positively....mundane.

Louis: I see. So you object to being called good or evil, moreso the latter since this mostly tends to come up when people react badly to you trying to eat them...

Lestat: Ugh. Louis, please. Must you be so crude? We do not eat people. We....slake our thirsts with their life’s blood.

Louis: Ah. Of course. The way I said it left out all the nuance and complexities.

Lestat: Yes, good. So you do see the problem.

Louis: Absolutely. You don’t want to be reduced to an undescriptive ‘evil’ by people as you’re slaking your thirst with their life’s blood, because who would? Its so minimizing. Now, do you have a preferable alternative as an example? Some other impression of you that can still be summed up briefly enough they can fit it into their dying moments, but that would be more accurate than the simple and unsophisticated ‘evil’?

Lestat: Don’t speak of me as though I’m some kind of uncomprehending child, Louis. I’m perfectly aware of the point you’re oh so cleverly dancing around. Of course I understand why they leap to the word choice they do in the context of things. I’m particular, not deluded. I’m simply saying - 

Louis: Agree to disagree.

Lestat: I’m simply saying. Yes, yes, I kill people, oh dear, oh my, this is of course terribly monstrous and well within the parameters of most any perception of evil. Obviously. So yes, I kill people. And what of it? Any common murderer can do the same, its hardly difficult. So for that to be the measure by which the entirety of even just my encounter with an individual is to be made....I simply find it...lacking. It positions me as peers with countless others up to and including a man immortalized for being the first one to do it with nothing more than a rock and for no greater reason than he decided a theoretical deity allegedly liked his brother more than him. That’s hardly distinguished company that anyone would likely be eager to seek, let alone claim, so if I am to be known as a killer, at least let me be known as one of a more unique caliber and befitting of more rarefied company than that.

Louis: Of course. If murderers are to be the company you keep in story or memory, you at least want to be counted among the aristocracy of murderers. As opposed to a mere commoner, obviously.

Lestat: Precisely. Regardless of one’s view of my moral disposition, “he’s evil” says absolutely nothing distinctive about myself in particular. And yet they insist on treating that alone as the only descriptor by which I can be described! There’s a breadth to me, a range, that ‘evil’ utterly fails to encompass. Why must that be the only option of note when I could be described with more specificity as so confounding as to prod men who swear by peace into instead swearing to hunt me to the ends of the earth? Which, of course, I have done. Or perhaps instead, I could be known for laying siege to a man’s mind with ceaseless words that continuously conjure thoughts so unendurable, he’d stab at his own ear drums just for the faintest chance to be rid of them! Which, again, I have done. If I am to be reviled, at least let me be reviled for being so devilishly distracting or so adept at teasing forth the skein of man’s hidden madness....why, men would sooner flee their own homes with me left still inside, the inheriting king of their abandoned castles....just to be free of the havoc I wreck upon their reasoning. Preferring to set themselves in exile than risk having to bear facing me again. Show me the common brute, the loutish murderer, who could possibly claim the same!

Louis: So. In summation: you’re in a mood because your latest victim called you an evil monster and while you don’t object to the veracity of that, you’re insulted because this reduces you to a generalized non-entity of no specific distinction, and the least the people you kill could do is have the decency to hate you for being annoying rather than just plain old evil.

Lestat: .....when you say it like that, of course it sounds silly.

Louis: Yes, yes, sorry, I forgot. Once again, its my lack of nuance that’s the problem.

Lestat: Ugh, fine! You win as usual, Louis! Once more, you have ripped through the fragile veil of my whims and forced my gaze upon the callous, uncaring stone of truth that lies underneath! I’m simply an absurd man who cares about absurd things and rather than be indulged, far better that we erect a town square right here in our parlor for the sole purpose of hosting a stage more appropriate for the ridicule I so richly deserve! Obviously my feelings aren’t reason enough for something to matter and there’s nothing of merit by which to remember me at all, so in the event I do perish, you of course have my permission to memorialize me with a headstone proclaiming: Here lies the vampire Lestat. He was very evil. Nothing more. That’s it. Just evil. And now he’s dead. There. Are you happy now?

Louis: For the record, if you were to prefer being thought of as annoying rather than a more generic evil, then I would tell you that you’ve achieved your aims admirably and have earned that distinction a hundred times over. Just this night alone.

Lestat: Oh, please. You’re only saying that now to make me feel better.

Louis: I’m really not. Only a truly ridiculous child of a man, prone to fits of dramatic frenzy over the most baffling of matters, would even think to consider that an attempt at appeasement. I can with complete sincerity, confirm that you are without a doubt, the most spectacularly unbearable spectacle of a man that I have ever met, with none I can think of even cresting the horizon to rate as a distant second by comparison. You’re so insufferable, even I sometimes wrestle with the desire to kill you, not for any particular evil deed, but simply because you’re being that unendurable and my patience is near its end. And I’m one of the only people who’s known you longer than a day and likes you any of the time and has any patience for your shenanigans. Yes, I said shenanigans, because only you, of all those I’ve met in this world and that I might describe as monstrous, only you manage to straddle the balance between the monstrous and the absurd, dually prone to both the greatest of sins and the most ridiculous of shenanigans. In fact, nobody else I’ve ever met would even think to try! You are perhaps the literal only man in existence, in all of history, who has ever thought that a border shared by both ‘vile’ and ‘ridiculous’ might possibly even exist. Let alone decided to seek it out and stake his claim there as no one else ever has before or since. And there is not a single other person in the world I can ever imagine saying any of all that too instead.

Lestat: *blushes*

Lestat: Well now I feel like we should go out on the town. Let’s make a night of it!

Louis: Oh hell no. I have gone through the entire quota of foolishness I can handle in one sitting, and then some. I’m going to bed, otherwise we’re gonna end up seeing that patience I was talking about actually put to the test.

Lestat: Fine, go enjoy your lonely coffin and your solitude. Rile me up and then leave with nothing done about it and nothing to be done until you next wake. A tease, that’s what you are, Louis. A cruel and wicked tease who lures men to the edge of ruin and then leaves them poised, trembling, on that very same edge. Anticipating and dreading the fall to come in equal measure, but frozen as flies trapped in amber til you return to set them free with that one final push.

Louis: Sure. That’s the dynamic here.

Lestat: Hurry up and abandon me to my Purgatory, so you can at least return sooner than late. You haven’t even left yet and I’m bored already.

Louis: Good night Lestat.

Lestat: Its actually going to be a wretched and unbearable night now, but yes, I suppose it is still a night all the same.

Louis: Oh, actually, one last thing before I forget....I couldn’t help but notice earlier. You’d think someone who considers an indiscriminate palate that can only pick out two tastes to be such a terrible thing to be stuck with for eternity....well, someone with that view of things seems like they’d see a vampire’s lack of taste buds as something worth warning a man about before turning him into a vampire for all eternity. Weird, that.

Lestat: Oh, for - How many times must I apologize about the jambalaya, Louis? How. Many. Times?

Louis: Not sure, I just know we’re not there yet. I’ll let you know when we reach it.

[lonely-lost-soul]

Little Fox

(C!Fundy x Reader)

Request 12: Hey if you're making a request, do you do c!Fundy? If so, can I get a Fundy x half fox shapeshifter!reader where fundy finds an injured full fox!reader, and takes her home to patch her up without knowing that she's a shifter ówò? Context, the reader can shift into three forms: full fox, half and half(fox legs, tail, ears, fangs), and fully human. Thank you have a blessed day!!!

Requested By: Anonymous

Moving away from L’manburg or what was once L’manburg was one of the best decisions Fundy has ever made. Did it get lonely from time to time, sure, but at least he was finally at peace. He was away from his ghost of a father and away from the drama of everyone else fighting and the looming sense of death that lingered over everyone that lived in the once-prosperous nation. It was quiet and he was happy to be left alone, well, mostly alone. There was one exception, a snow-white fox that trotted around his house from time to time, curious (e/c) watching him with intent. He had always felt a connection to foxes considering he was part fox, he hated seeing them hurt or starving or treated with disrespect, so he kept them around. However the white fox didn’t seem to pay him any mind other than silently watching and wandering around his home, he started placing food out for the fox. This went on for a few months until one night something felt off. Fundy kept glancing out the window, almost like he was expecting to see someone but no one popped up until he remembered his little buddy. He didn’t know why it sent him so on edge, it was just a random arctic fox maybe it was the way the food was left untouched or the pull he felt to go the woods, but he grabbed his coat and stepped into the forest.

The first thing he noticed was the small animal prints littering the snow, there seemed to be some sort of scuffle. Worry entered his veins and his ears pressed flat against his head, he journeyed deeper into the forest and noticed little droplets of blood. Fundy adjusted his hat nervously and followed the blood droplets, crumpled on the ground in front of his feet was a blood-stained fox. The once pure white coat of the fox was stained with red splotches a big gash was torn from its side, Fundy felt nauseous. The wind seemed to blow against his exposed ears, almost urging him to pick up the fox and take it home. He reached out and picked the fox up in his arms and held it close, the wind blew again, his eyes widened a little in surprise, the wind seemed to whisper a thank you.

Back at the house he laid the fox down on his couch and began to patch up her wounds. Hopefully, she wouldn’t attack him in the morning, be too freaked out, he wrapped the bandages around the wound stopping the flow of blood. He just prayed his foxy friend would be alive come the morning light. Fundy flicked the lights off and went to sleep in his bedroom, even though all the windows were shut and locked tight he still felt that odd breeze tickle the tufts of his ears. ‘Take good care of her’ it seemed to whisper, his heart thudded in his chest as he snuggled under the covers. The morning sun streamed through his windows, blinding the hybrid slightly, he groaned loudly and sat up in bed. He ran his sharp nails through his hair tussling it a little bit, trying to calm the rat’s nest down. As snapped to consciousness fully when he noticed footsteps coming from his living room, very human-sounding footsteps. Fundy tensed and hopped out of bed storming into the room, a dagger in hand. He let out a startled shriek seeing a beautiful half-naked young woman standing in the middle of the room. However, he couldn’t even focus on that, he was more focused on the snow-white fox ears that sat atop her head, the fluffy tail behind her, and the fox-like legs.

She was like him.

“Fundy right?” She sent him a crooked smile, sharp fangs very visible, making him feel all types of things. “Names, (Y/n) and you saved my life last night.”

“You- Fox?! but- human-” His hands tangled in his orange hair mentally trying to come to terms with the fact that he had probably saved a forest spirit. “No shirt!” he sputtered feeling soft hands take his own, he noticed a smile on her lips, their eyes locked together,

“I’m a shifter. A pleasure to officially meet you.” He felt you squeeze his palms and he swallowed thickly,

“Shifter?”

He watched you nod tail swishing from side to side, you were very happy to be talking to him it seemed, Fundy felt oddly honored. “I have three forms! Full fox, half fox, and fully human,” You explained holding up three fingers on your hand. “Usually full fox is easier but as you can see,” You motioned to the bandages covering your chest, “it’s not without risks.”

“Hold the phone you’re telling me the fox I’ve been feeding-”

“Yup! That was me!” You giggled as his cheeks went red, “I appreciated it.”

“I gave you dog food! I’m so sorry, oh my god!” He sputtered out completely mortified by the situation. You let out a roaring laugh, it was very reminiscent of that of a fox but he supposed that, that made sense. He watched you dip your head and nuzzle underneath his chin, once again he felt his entire face burn red, your ears were so soft, the fur tickling his chin.

“It’s okay, I didn’t eat any of that. Just pretended.” You reassured lifting your head to once again meet his eyes. “Soooo...you gonna tell me your name? Or should I just call you handsome?” He felt the blush spread down onto his neck,

Oh no, she was so cute.

“Fundy! I’m Fundy.” He nodded more stiffly than he wanted too suddenly very aware of how close the both of them were to one another. You blinked after a few minutes peaking around his shoulder, oh shit was his tail wagging? A bright smile spread across your cheeks “Laugh it up okay! Not every day I get to have a cute fox girl nuzzle against me alright!” Your ears fell flat against your head, he watched pink spread across your cheeks, score.

“Cute?” You meekly whispered you pulled away a little to grab at your tail shyly, “Thank you.”

He was going to die, you were going to be the death of him.

After that first encounter, you, the real you, had become a staple of his life. You had moved with him a few days after showing your more human form to the hybrid. You knew how to cook which made him swoon, it tasted divine, he was tired of being alone. You made him feel like he still had hope, you were his family now even after only knowing you for such a short amount of time. There was an odd sort of bond the two of you had, he was happy to have someone understand him, on a level that no one has ever been able to before, especially not his father. Days rolled into weeks and weeks turned into months, it was about eight months in when Fundy finally confessed to you.

You’d spent the day away from home, in your full fox form, saying you needed to stretch your legs and Fundy let you go. That didn’t mean he wasn’t a mess all day worrying about your well-being all day, he barely could get anything done, so when he saw your white fur streak through the trees that night he knew you were home. He ran out onto the stones of the path and called out your name, he watched your ears twitch and turned towards him. He felt his tail begin wagging ecstatically and he could see yours begin to do the same, you charged headfirst towards him shifting as you run, as you arrived he held out his arms and you jumped right on in them. He felt your arms wrap around his neck as he lifted you into the air. He spun you around as he laughed,

“I missed you, Dee!” You purred out happily leaning back a little bit in his arms, he still held you above the ground.

“I missed you too Dearheart,” Fundy whispered looking up at your sparkling eyes it was then, with your white fur shining in the moonlight that he realized he was in love with you. “(Y/n)?”

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” You breathed out softly, cheeks pink, ears twitching, “I’d like that very much.”

So, he did.

Two years being together of being together was finally when Wilbur- or ghostbur- decided to visit his son. You were outside in the garden, tending to some of Fundy’s vegetables deadset on using some of the fresh ones to make soup for tonight. You were in your human form so you didn’t get your white fur covered in dirt, so you didn’t hear the ghost coming close to the house until he was leaning over your shoulder.

“Hello!”

You screamed like a little kit throwing your basket through the ghost who shivered at the foreign feeling.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!” The ghost apologized adjusting the round glasses on his face. “I heard my son Fundy lives around here but I must be mistaken!”

“Are you...you’re Wilbur aren’t you?”

“Oh! You’ve heard of me! Was it my music, please say yes!” The ghost’s eyes seemed to sparkle with hope, he shrunk a little as he watched you shake your head, “oh…”

“I’m-”

“(Y/n)! I heard you scream, you alright?” Fundy peeked his head out the door eyes going big seeing his dead father standing beside you. Wilbur looked between the both of you before a tiny smirk spread across his face,

“Ohhhhhh, I see now.” Wilbur nodded watching his son’s face go red, “My little champion is all grown up! With a beautiful human to mind you!”

“Er...not exactly.” You mumbled, allowing your ears and tail to pop up from your head, Wilbur’s jaw dropped in shock and awe.

“She’s like you!” Wilbur gaped reaching up to touch your ears, you flinched a little, and Fundy snarled at his father. “Sorry, sorry,” He pulled his hand back with a sheepish smile Fundy finally walked over to the both of you, pushing you behind him only slightly.

“What’re you doing here dad?” His voice was gruffer than you’ve ever heard it, his tail was puffed up in a way you’ve never seen before from your boyfriend.

He was on edge.

Wilbur shuffled a little fumbling with a piece of something blue in his hands. “I just wanted to check up on my son. No one’s heard from you for a while we’re all getting a little worried. I love you so-”

“Dad.” He groaned pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose pinching it, “look. I appreciate you’re all worried but I’m happier here.”

“But you’re all alone out here! It’s not good for anyone’s health, especially not a young fox!”

“Excuse you?” Your eyes narrowed in offense, “I lived out here all my life.” You bristled in frustration, “I turned out fine.” Wilbur eyed you warily and Fundy squeezed your palm tightly, “I did!”

“I didn’t mean any offense. I’m just looking out for my son.”

“No offense but I think he can look after himself just fine.” You shot right back and Fundy covered up a surprised laugh, “So far so good. Plus he’s not alone, I’m with him.” You squeezed Fundy’s hand rather tightly, as Wilbur glanced at your intertwined hands.

“What she said.” Fundy nodded his head, “we have each other and that’s all we need. At least for right now. So try not to worry too much.” He waved his dad off, “Now if you don’t mind we have dinner to cook.” Wilbur gave a hesitant nod before turning back to look into your eyes,

“Don’t hurt him.”

“I don’t plan on it," You assured nodded your head you both had a brief staring contest before Wilbur said his official goodbyes and headed on his way. “I’m sorry,” Fundy watched your ears fall flat against your head.

“What for?” Fundy’s brows furrowed in concern, “He was being an ass, you had every right to defend yourself. Plus I hate him so.” He shrugged unbothered, “I love you though.” He pecked your cheek and you smiled shyly.

“I love you too Dee.” You spoke softly, pulling him close by his jacket, his tail began to wag enthusiastically.

“Kiss?”

“Kiss.” You nodded standing on your tiptoes to give him a long kiss, he purred tangling his fingers through your hair. You pulled away much too soon for his liking and let out a low whine, you giggled happily and peppered his face in light kisses. “Fundy?”

“Hm?”

“Let’s get married.”

“What?”

~~~

Next Up: Immortality and Nymphs Part II

[deddie-eddie]

Imagine you are a child.

Let's say you're 2 or 3 years old, so still very much in your formative years.

One of your hobbies, as mine was at that age, is to touch things that you find interesting. Sometimes, the things that you want to touch are dangerous, and you shouldn't be allowed to touch them.

Let's name a thing. A lit candle. You like to touch burning candles because the light fascinates you and you want to touch it. Simplistic thinking for a simplistic mind, as you are not yet capable of understanding the possible repercussions of touching the fire. You are unaware what "hot" means. You know the word, but have not yet associated it to any experience which would solidify that you are meant to fear things that are hot.

Knowing your proclivity to touch things, your mother is sure to place all candles out of your reach. She puts them away when not in use, and when in use, atop things that cannot be toppled or reached if you were to try. She has taken preventative measures to be sure that you dont come to any harm. She is aware that her want to protect you and her wish for the living room to smell like apple cider have nothing to do with each other, and she can therefore be reasonably assumed innocent in this scenario.

You, indifferent to the wills of your mother, as is the way of children, decide that you would very much like to touch the fire.

You climb onto a chair that you moved there yourself (can toddlers do that? I know nothing of the human growth process), and find yourself face to face with the candle. The light is so pretty, you think, reaching out for it. Your mother, at this point, is not in the room (probably in the bathroom or has just gone somewhere briefly) so you are alone with the candle.

You grab it to pull it closer, and in moments a searing pain shoots through your hand and you spill wax all over yourself.

This will leave a lasting mark on your fragile body.

You cry out, and immediately your mother returns.

She knows full well that she did her best to keep the candle out of reach. She knows full well that it was your fault for touching it. But that doesn't matter. She also knows that you need help as soon as possible so that you dont get worse.

Is it on your mother to know how to treat 3rd degree baby burns? No. She can only send you to a doctor who is qualified.

It is not the fault of any content creator that you, a child, has seen their work. Not if they've warned you and made clear that their account is adults only.

It is not the fault of any content creator who properly tags their work that you have found their content triggering.

It is not the fault of any content creator if their work is used by pedophiles to groom children.

It is not the fault of any child who is triggered by content.

It is not the fault of any child who is groomed. Not under any context.

It is not the fault of any child who believes they can handle something when they cant.

It is on you, as the viewer, to properly curate your online experience effectively. No one will mute tags for you. No one will stop shipping for you. But you dont have to look. You can mute whatever you want, and block whomever you please. And that's okay.

It is on you, as a content creator, to tag and properly TW any potentially triggering content you make. Not everyone on the internet knows you and what you post and how to avoid it. Not everyone on the internet wants to see what you post. And that's okay.

You cannot argue that something's potential to harm children is reason enough to get rid of it, because it is on you to conduct yourself honestly if you are old enough to have an account online. If you click "yes, I am 18" on a porn site, that is asking for your consent, which you cannot give as a child. If someone's account warns you against following or straight up tells you not to, that is a form of consent as they are in the right to assume that you are an adult if you follow them with those conditions in place.

An account with 12k followers physically cannot root through each and every single account to see if they are a minor. It is on you not to violate the trust of that content creator, and on said creator to warn you and keep you away as best they can.

Anything can be used to harm children. That's just a sad fact of life. But you wouldn't arrest your mother for trusting that her preemptive measures were enough to protect you.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 291: The Endeavor Pamphlet

Previously on BnHA: Dabi showed up atop Gigantomachia’s back and was all “you’ll never guess who I really am!” and the readers humored him and were all “who?” and he was all “TODOROKI TOUYA” and we were all “WOW └(・。・)┘ OH MY GOSH I WOULD NEVER HAVE GUESSED”, except for Shouto and Enji who were GENUINELY SHOCKED. Anyway so Touya was all “and guess what I’m doing right now!” and before anyone could even try, he was all, “STREAMING MY EMMY-NOMINATED MINISERIES ‘HELLO, I’M EVIL BUT ALSO TRAGIC AND SEXY, NOW LET ME TELL YOU ALL ABOUT MY DAD WHO SUCKS’’, THAT’S WHAT.” And everyone was all “oh my god” and Touya was all “ヽ(⌐■_■)ノ♪” for basically the rest of the chapter, and that’s pretty much it! Oh, wait, except for the part where he also doused himself in bleach in a fit of pure theatrics, which is actually pretty much the main takeaway from the entire chapter really because it was just wild af. ANYWAYS.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi introduces Baby Touya, the world’s most enchantingly sweet character, and is immediately all, “I sure can’t wait to tell you guys all about how his fucking jaw burnt off.” Thankfully he doesn’t (YET), and we cut back to the present pretty quickly, where Dabi explains how he took all of his brain cells that should have been used to stop him from pouring bleach over his head, and instead put them all toward his big brain plot of releasing an elaborate video detailing Endeavor’s various abuses and crimes, and even throwing Hawks under the bus as well because WHY NOT. He then leaps off of Gigantomachia’s back (like I said, no brain cells) all set to blast them with a Prominence Burn, only to be stopped by none other than THE LEGEND HIMSELF, MOTHERFUCKING BEST, PRETTIEST, NICEST, MOST OUTSTANDING MOTHERFUCKING JEANIST. Who’s no doubt outraged by the crime against hair he witnessed only moments earlier. GO GETTIM JEANY BOI.

so I haven’t had time to answer any of them because this has been the stupidest week, but I just wanted to tell you guys that I received no fewer than nine asks about Dabi’s hair. which, in a week filled with election memes and tumblr’s most cursed fandom briefly rising back up from the dead, is a pretty impressive feat for him if you ask me. like, I know I was making fun of it basically nonstop, but it sure did generate a lot of discussion so maybe I should rethink my opinions on Dabi’s PR strategies now, idk

anyway. it’s Saturday. time to catch up on this shit. let’s see how fucked the Todorokis are

OH NO HE’S CUTE

HOLY SHIT THIS IS TOO MUCH TO FUCKING PROCESS. I’M JUST TRYING TO ENJOY MY DAY HORIKOSHI, ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO TRAUMATIZE THIS POOR CHILD RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SALAD

“thanks for being all right” the fuck

who allowed this child to be so cute. I’m serious. who signed off on this

how could a child this adorable possibly want to murder his equally adorable baby brother. please, your honor. there must be some mistake here

guess how prepared I am to read all about Touya’s tragic past. mm. that’s right. zero ready. none ready

anyway. TWO THOUSAND DEGREES LOLOLOL. NO TRACE OF A CORPSE HOW CONVENIENT. A PIECE OF HIS LOWER JAW BONE FFFFMSGHKLSh. LOVELY. LOVELY

LMAOOOOO

listen you guys. I just want to take a moment to appreciate that Horikoshi Kouhei did one of two things here. either (1) he planned it out FROM THE VERY START that Touya would be born with red hair Because Fire Powers, but would then have his hair turn white due to trauma, thus making the Dabi/Touya connection very slightly less obvious, although Let’s Be Real Who Are We Kidding. OR, (2) the anime got it wrong and gave him red hair, and rather than allowing this plot hole to continue to exist, Horikoshi took it upon himself to concoct this elaborate storyline and pretend it was never a plot hole at all! in which case I sure hope someone at Bones is sending him a VERY nice Christmas card this year. got this man sweeping up all your messes for you. you’re just lucky he has some sort of wild compulsion to address these things

anyways!!

FATHER AND SON. how sweet. :| still zero percent ready for any of this btw

STOP BEING CUTE

THIS IS RIDICULOUS. I’M SO MAD RIGHT NOW. HE IS THE SINGLE CUTEST CHARACTER IN THE ENTIRE SERIES, and do you even know how many other baby characters I’m betraying in order to say that?! baby Kacchan, baby Deku, baby Ochako, baby Shouto, Eri, baby Hawks. I’M LOOKING YOU DEAD IN THE EYE RIGHT NOW AND TELLING YOU THAT BABY TOUYA IS CUTER THAN ALL OF THOSE PLEBS. AND YOU’RE LOOKING BACK AT ME RIGHT NOW ALL “YEAH IT SURE IS A PITY ABOUT HIS JAW MELTING OFF THOUGH.” THAT’S IT, I QUIT THE SERIES

and Enji’s smiling at him. he’s so proud of him. but then Touya won’t be able to do it, and Enji’s gonna stop training him, and Touya’s gonna feel like a failure and keep pushing himself in order to try and win his dad’s affections back, because that’s all kids fucking want, all they want is just love, that’s fucking it, you couldn’t just give him that?? and then he’s gonna immolate himself fflkdlskfh THERE YOU SEE HORIKOSHI, I KNOW THE WHOLE STORY ALREADY, YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THE WHOLE “SHOW THEM THE DEAD DOG” THING YET AGAIN YOU PIECE OF SHIT

OH SNAP THERE GOES THE TWIN THEORY. R.I.P.

BABY FUYUMI. PRETTY CUTE. NOT AS CUTE AS TOUYA THOUGH. HEY LOOK, NO REASON TO GET MAD AT ME I’M JUST STATING A FACT HERE

YEAH THIS IS GONNA GO REAL WELL OH BOY

I keep pressing the emergency stop button but this industrial tragedy machine just keeps on chugging along anyway, I’m pretty sure this thing is not up to code

:| I am so sorry sweet boy, Horikoshi is only getting started with you

FUCKING HELL WITH THIS NARRATION

but he wasn’t actually a child to you, he was just a little puppet child for you to live vicariously through!! and then you went and did the same fucking thing with Shouto afterwards and never learned your lesson until just six months ago!! fucking hell, Enji

so now he’s all “Touya is dead, that’s an unforgivable lie” fflkdhflk motherfucker does he look dead to you. if you really think that, tumblr and twitter have got a little over five years’ worth of archived theory posts to show you

oh shit Touya’s countering with “it’s an unforgivable truth”, which, damn. I actually think Horikoshi’s dialogue is one of his weaker points as a writer a lot of the time, but that comeback was snappy as fuck

actually guys, now that I’ve seen how ridiculously fucking cute baby!Touya was, I can almost understand why Shouto and Enji never put the pieces together before lol. any passing similarities would have easily been dismissed on account of he’d need to be at least 10x more adorable in order to get the full resemblance

OH MY GOD

NOW YOU SLEEP??? SO YOU POINT BLANK REFUSED TO PASS OUT WHILE YOU WERE BUSY MAIMING ALL OF MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS, BUT NOW THAT THERE’S AN OPPORTUNITY TO SEE YOUR REACTION TO THE “YOUR LIEUTENANT WAS SECRETLY RELATED TO ONE OF YOUR WORST ENEMIES THE WHOLE TIME” BOMBSHELL, YOU FINALLY DECIDE TO GET YOUR FORTY WINKS. I SEE

WOW DABI

I’M SURPRISED YOU DIDN’T ALREADY HAVE YOUR ANCESTRY.COM RESULTS PRINTOUT READY TO FOLD INTO A PAPER AIRPLANE AND ZOOM ON DOWN TO HIM

LOL NEVERMIND

gotta say, so far The Endeavor Pamphlet is just about as spicy as I could have hoped

(ETA: Natsuo’s face as he watches his beloved dead brother come back to life only to literally and metaphorically set everything on fire in one fell swoop is :/. why must you do this to me Natsu. can’t you see I’m trying to throw a Welcome Back Jeanist party here.)

HAVE YOU READ THIS?! TODOROKI ENJI ABUSED HIS OWN HEIR, AND DABI WROTE IT DOWN RIGHT THERE

WELL HE’S NEVER GON’ BE NUMBER ONE NOW / NEVER GON’ BE NUMBER ONE NOW / THAT’S ONE LESS THING TO WORRY ABOUT / THAT’S ONE LESS THING TO WORRY ABOUT

btw I neglected to mention this last week, but yes I do recognize and appreciate that this is Can’t Ya See-kun himself whom Horikoshi has chosen to be the face of this existential crisis which the general public is about to experience. rip CYS-kun

OOF

excuse me. putting aside the implications of Dabi sharing this context-less murder video of Hawks with the entire world for a moment, I just have to pause for a sec here, because when exactly did he get a chance to edit this all in?? complete with voiceover that seamlessly ties in with the prerecorded footage of him with DNA test results sans shirt?? you’re telling me this motherfucker, with all the smoke that was in the room thanks to his own quirk, somehow got a PERFECT SHOT of the PRECISE MOMENT when Hawks drove his feather knife into Jin’s back, using his MAGIC CAMERA THAT HE I GUESS HAD THE ENTIRE TIME IN THE POUCH RIGHT NEXT TO HIS BLEACH BOTTLE, and then immediately somehow got this very next shot as well FROM AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT ANGLE

ALL THE WHILE IMMEDIATELY RUNNING THROUGH SCRIPT REVISIONS IN HIS HEAD, WHICH HE THEN PROCEEDED TO RECORD... WHERE, EXACTLY?? WITH SKEPTIC, WHILST RIDING ON MACHIA’S BACK??

AND THIS IS ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF???

and this after I just wrote that whole long paragraph positively GLOWING about this man’s ability to plug up a plot hole. jfc. just scratch out every damn word I said lol. just forget all of it

are you fucking kidding me, the footage was from the cameras Skeptic planted on Hawks??

that’s... actually... okay you know what, it still doesn’t make any sense in the slightest, but the determination to address it nonetheless... just, dammit... I feel like I’m constantly at war with myself over whether or not I want to shake this man’s hand or slap him lmao. whatever, then!!

anyway, since Shouto and Enji can’t actually see the damage that Touya is dealing to the hero industry even as they speak, Touya is taking it upon himself to give them the highlights

I think it’s a testament to how much Endeavor cares about Hawks that he managed to zero in on that comment even amidst all the craziness of his eldest son returning from the dead to announce how he’s been carefully plotting their destruction for years and years. like, he heard “Hawks” and his face immediately went like that. you think he’s worried that Dabi did something to him? because he’d be right to worry lol

so the Endeavor Pamphlet narration is now explaining all about how Hawks totally killed the Number 3 Hero Best Jeanist as well! yep... he sure did... totally...

OH MY GOD WE’RE CUTTING TO HIM AHHHHH

Hawks, that is. lol. not Jeanist. NO, JUST MY POOR HALF-DEAD WINGLESS BABY SON

NOOOOO HIS LITTLE WING STUMPS. BUT SOMEHOW HIS FACIAL HAIR IS STILL INTACT. OH TO BE AN ANIME PRETTY BOY BEING SET ON FIRE. “HEY, TAKE IT EASY, WATCH THE FACE”

EXCUSE ME WHAT

interesting! we suspected as much, I think, with the clues that Ending dropped, and the little flashback right after the name reveal. still not clear how Dabi found out about it though!

looooool okay here we go, breaking out the heavy-handed holier-than-thou shit now

you know, I do find it interesting how trying to model themselves after All Might’s noble Symbol of Peace image has kind of ended up being the heroes’ undoing here. like, I could write a whole essay on this, but what it basically boils down to is that they were all trying too hard to be perfect. All Might went out there and did his thing and was amazing, and so the powers-that-be built an entire system centered around this seemingly-infallible person, and they acted like the system was infallible as well. and so most of the population ended up becoming complacent over the years, and meanwhile the people who were unfortunate enough to fall through the cracks understandably wound up disillusioned and perceiving the heroes as these false idols

anyway, but I think one positive takeaway from this is that the new up-and-coming generation of heroes represent a breakaway from that system. like, imo what we’re witnessing is the downfall of the Perfect Hero, and the rise of the imperfect hero. and this new generation doesn’t shy away from their failures or pretend like they never happened. they pretty much can’t pretend, because their failures are all right out there in the open for everyone to see. Bakugou Katsuki, just to name one example off the top of my very biased head, has had his own personal character journey basically play out right in front of the media’s eyes. his humiliation at the sports festival, his kidnapping by the League, and all of the fallout afterward. this isn’t someone who can ever go out there and convince the world that he’s perfect. but what he can do, instead, is show the world that he’s trying. that he’s trying with everything he has to do his best, to be the best. rather than this untouchable godlike image, it’s instead the image of someone painfully human who is nonetheless striving with everything he’s got to keep moving forward, flaws and all, and work his way to the top

and ultimately I think that’s going to be a much more positive image to send out to the world when all’s said and done. because rather than merely inspiring awe, heroes like that inspire people to take action themselves. or at least that’s what I hope! and not just Bakugou, but the others as well. we’ve got Shouto, whose own personal trauma is being aired in front of the whole nation even as I sit here ranting. we’ve got Deku, who cries at the drop of a hat, and who fought to become a hero despite being quirkless (and I think it’s only a matter of time before that eventually becomes public knowledge as well). tl;dr because I’m getting way too long-winded here, but these kids have effectively been humanized in a way that the old generation never was, and I think that’ll go a long way towards building trust between them and the people they’ll someday be protecting, and inspiring the next generation in hopefully a much healthier way

anyway so where were we. ...oh yes, Dabi was explaining that heroes only protect themselves, and is presumably building up to his grand conclusion of “therefore you should all just let the villains take over and burn down the world”

omfg. YOU GUYS

DOES CAN’T YA SEE-KUN’S SHARK FRIEND ACTUALLY CALL HIM “CAN’T YA SEE-KUN.” HE HAS A NAME YOU KNOW!! UNLESS HE LEGALLY GOT HIS NAME CHANGED TO CAN’T YA SEE-KUN. OH MY GOD

ALSO, IS THAT CAN’T YA SEE-KUN CRYING IN THE BOTTOM RIGHT THERE OMG. GIVE THIS CHILD A HUG. EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING RIGHT NOW AND HUG HIM

BAKUGOU IS BARELY HANGING ON THERE LOL. GOTTA STAY CONSCIOUS... SO MUCH TEA BEING SPILLED... FOCUS... CONCENTRATE

IIDA’S ANGLING HIS HEAD IN A WEIRD WAY, LIKE DUDE. LOOKING SUSPICIOUSLY SNUGGLY THERE. MMM THESE IIDABAKU CRUMBS

HADOU IS ALL “WHAT EVEN IS ACTUALLY GOING ON” LMAO

LASTLY, POOR SHOUTO OMFG. WHEN YOU’RE ALL FINISHED HUGGING CYS-KUN THIS CHILD NEEDS YOUR ATTENTION!!

so now Dabi’s leaping off of this ninety-foot-tall gargoyle man like that’s a normal, smart thing to do. unless he can fly too now? saw his dad doing it back at Fukuoka and was all “hmm”

OH MY GOD SOMEONE TELL ME RIGHT NOW WHAT WORD SHOUTO IS USING TO ADDRESS ENJI, THESE TRANSLATIONS LOVE TO MESS WITH MY HEAD

ENJI GET MOVING DO YOU NOT SEE THOSE TEARS!!! SNAP OUT OF IT YOU BIG TREE

AHHHHH

OH KACCHAN YOU WOKE UP A LITTLE MORE THERE, HUH

lol he and Deku both look so determined but they’re basically sitting ducks. their “oh shit” faces do look remarkably like their “TIME TO SWING INTO ACTION” faces but don’t be fooled, they have one good arm and about six pints of blood left between the two of them. looks like this one’s all on you Shouto

-- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH --

BAH GOD... WHAT’S GOING ON HERE... THAT’S BEST JEANIST’S MUSIC

y’all. can’t even talk right now, my brain has completely shut down lol. just. ...

  °˖✧◝(￣▿￣)◜✧˖°

[littlefishbigsea]

Siren’s Umbra | Chapter 1

Author’s Note: This took far longer than I was expecting, but here it is. This story is an extension of a small scene I wrote a while ago (which will make a reappearance within the context of the story once I get there). I hope you enjoy. If you’d like to be tagged in future updates, let me know. 

Story Summary: Azriel finds it increasingly harder to stay afloat adrift in his own darkness. As tensions rise between himself and his found family, an unlikely but welcome distraction takes the form of a young priestess. Eager to prove her worth, to learn, and empower herself, Gwyn aligns herself with the aloof spymaster. With the continent scrambling to avoid yet another conflict, Gwyn and Azriel must work closely to unravel the secrets of Mount Ramiel.

Trope: Friends to lovers

Word Count (so far): 3.2k

Tags: Fluff, Light Angst, Smut

Additional links: AO3

Chapter 1 - On Leathery Wings

It was early spring in Velaris. The sky was a weighty blue velvet drooping over rooftops. Ironically, since the attack, the dawns had been breathtaking. As Azriel stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the townhouse his shadows all but disappeared.

“Well,” his brother said in way of greeting, smirking up at him from the street. “Don’t you look like shit? I thought moving to the townhouse was meant to give you peace?”

“I don’t know the meaning of the word,” Azriel grumbled, voice flat. “Why are you here?” And grinning, but he didn’t need to ask that to understand why Cassian wore such a look.

He’d been wearing it for weeks now. Azriel had been attempting to remove it during practice but the general was more resilient than Az gave him credit for. Cassian’s happiness was decidedly infectious.

“I’m here,” Cass answered, “Because Rhys would like to see us. He’s up at the House.”

“Why didn’t he-“

“Look,” Cass interrupted with a shrug. “I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you - I mean you almost killed one another at the cabin - but you need to work it out.” He waved a hand back and forth at the spymaster who scoffed and stepped past him. “I’m serious,” Cass went on to explain. “I could use a night out. Just us. It’s been a while.”

Good luck with that, Azriel mused to himself. Rhysand hadn’t left the River House since Nyx was born.

“Married life chaffing, Cass?” Azriel teased, biting back a smile.

“We’re not married. Yet,” Cassian corrected. “Emerie and Gwyn have been over almost every night this week. As much as I love-“

This is where Azriel tuned his brother out. Call it cruel, but this was the same one sided conversation he’d had with Cass, oh, three times now. Was it really conversation if only one of them were speaking? Azriel didn’t personally believe head nods and hmphs counted as conversing but he’d mastered the art form.

He sympathized. He really did. Cassian recounted being kicked out of his own bed, finding a small Pegasus in his boot and how one of the girls had, once again, inked something inappropriate on his forehead while he’d been sleeping. Azriel couldn’t help but smile at that, though he erased it quickly.

Cassian might complain but Azriel knew his brother adored his mate and her friends. Even he had to admit that the girls brought an abundance of laughter and joy to the House whenever the trio graced it’s halls. A rare and intoxicating sound that had even roused him from his room multiple times only to catch Cass peeking curiously at them from around a dark corner.

Though if he was being honest with himself, which he rarely was, Azriel was beginning to find the townhouse, comparatively, suffocatingly quiet. Too far removed from his family and friends. Late at night Azriel felt the creeping dark closing in, a sinister umbra spreading through him like venom. It was with great mental effort that he stayed his darker thoughts, but he was finding it more challenging of late. His ongoing feud with Rhys wasn’t helping.

Shadows dashed, darting from his shoulders to comfort the spymaster only to reel back in the morning light. Azriel focused his attentions away from the dark corners of his mind to beat of his footsteps. The last thing he needed to dwell on was what happened during Solstice.

It was still early morning in Valeris. The war-torn homeless still slept against the walls of buildings and the ice carts weren’t even out making deliveries. He preferred this time of day, just before the spring heat shimmered against the streets and curled the ends of his hair.

Aside from Cass, who was waving his arms, going on about the amount of women’s underthings he’d found in all sorts of strange places, it was mostly quiet. There was no one to stare or utter harsh whispers as Azriel passed.

Normally he flew or called shadows to him and winnowed within their comfort but this was a rare moment when Valeris was tolerable. He’d once described the city as the loneliest place in Prythian and he’d meant it. Tens of thousands of people flocked these streets and not a single one looked him in the eye. Very few did.

With one brother mated and the other in the process of being so, Azriel hadn’t felt more alone in his life. He had no stories to share with Cass on their morning walk. None that would make the general laugh or smile. No, his stories were best kept to himself - locked away were Rhys could extract what he needed and not question his shadowsinger’s techniques.

“You’re not listening,” Cassian suddenly accused, huffing a sigh. His arms dropped. The courts greatest general defeated.

“I’m always listening,” Azriel corrected. “You’re frustrated you don’t have your mate all to yourself anymore.”

“You-“ Cassian gave him a glare worthy of Amren. “And when have I had her to myself exactly? Every time-“

Again, Azriel tuned his brother out.

The House of Wind came into view, a great gleaming crown atop the mountains. His gaze lingered on the lower levels that housed the library. Not that most would know to look there as the windows were magically kept from view. The dozens of priestesses that worked in those stacks were kept hidden and protected. Just as Rhys had promised them.

Light flickered as shadow danced across his wings and over his shoulders. Braving the soft, dewy light to whisper in his ear, their chilling touch reached up his neck before spilling secrets.

She was at morning service.

A flash of color, heated cheeks and bright teal eyes - it wasn’t clear to him, still, this obsession his shadows had taken on. Over centuries he’d gathered unmeasurable amounts of information on his kingdoms allies and rivals. Yet, he couldn’t speak to what his friends had for breakfast this morning. He was painfully aware, however, that a certain priestess had sipped honeyed tea and eaten a single slice of rye smattered with butter and cinnamon and that her nose scrunched when she-

“Nesta wants you over for dinner,” Cassian commanded, ever the general.

“All right.”

“I have to go by the River House. Elain made a bundt. Nesta will likely murder me if I forget to bring it back,” Cass huffed. “Bundt? Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“It’s cake.”

“Why not just call it cake then? Why be confusing?”

“It’s a type of cake.”

“No, chocolate is a type of cake.”

“Cass, chocolate is a flavor.”

As they approached the thousand steps that led up to the House, Cassian and Azriel kicked off in tandem aiming for the open balcony above. The air was cool as it passed over their skin, heated from the walk over. Matching the steady beat of his heart, Azriel’s enormous wings cut through the mornings low hanging clouds.

Rhysand, their High Lord, waited for them. Once he caught their approach he turned, heading inside. Azriel’s gut tightened. Their fights didn’t often escalate to this level. On a single hand he could count the times they’d fought to the point of not speaking.

His boots touched down upon stone before Cassian’s. He held, waiting for his brother. His hesitation to follow Rhys inside didn’t go unnoticed.

“Azriel-“

“He ordered me to stay away from Elain,” emotionless and flat, the words left his mouth before he could think better of it.

Silence settled between them. The rare outburst had Cassian’s eyes growing round and Az couldn’t tell if he was going to yell or laugh. Maybe both.

“Why,�� Cass drawled so slowly Azriel almost missed what he was asking. “What have you-“

“I haven’t,” Azriel stopped him.

“How did you know what I was going to say?”

“I didn’t, I just know it wouldn’t be good.”

“Point,” Cassian admitted with a tilt of his head, “but why would Rhys ask you stay away if nothing was happening?”

“Something almost happened.”

“Something? Almost happened?”

Azriel sighed.

“Lucien-“ Cassian hissed.

“I know.”

“Feyre and Nes would have your balls.”

“Would they?”

“Yes!”

“Glad to know just how unworthy everyone thinks-“

A strong grip on his upper arm had Azriel turning, eyes flashing gold. Cassian’s gaze was hard, unapologetic. His hand dropped, fully aware of the rising shadows that now threatened to gobble his brother whole. The Night Courts general understood danger.

“It has nothing to do with worth,” he grumbled angrily in a rare sign of lost temper. “Everyone is overly protective of that girl, how are you surprised?” Azriel blinked down at him. “She has a mate, Az. Regardless of how either of you feel - which I really don’t want to know about, by the way, please leave me out of that shit - but like I was saying,” Cassian blew a breath from between his lips before going on in an even tone. “whether she wants it or not, she has a mate. She has a decision to make regardless of you.”

He had a point, one that Azriel laid awake at night thinking of.

“Besides,” Cass continued, turning to walk into the House. Azriel followed reluctantly. “You’ve been around each other all of what, 6 times? I mean, how involved are you that Rhys had to - you know what, I said I didn’t want to know.”

He almost smiled at Cassian’s bluster. Azriel was grateful for both his brothers and their never ending, often un-needed advice, but conversations like this if had with Rhys often descended into quick-tempered arguments.

The High Lord of the Night Court waited for them just inside. He held himself casually, pouring another mug of hot tea. The top buttons of his crisp shirt were undone but the stiffness in his shoulders told Azriel that Rhys was prepared for a fight at most, and at best he had news they wouldn’t like.

“Morning,” Rhysand greeted, lifting his face to them. Bright, amethyst eyes regarded each of the Illyrians, looking for anything amiss.

“Morning,” they answered in unison.

“How’s my boy?” Cass asked greedily, boyish grin in place at the thought of his nephew.

“Well, as is his mother,” Rhys replied eyes warming at their mention. That warmth didn’t last when his purple gaze met Azriel’s.

“I have something for you,” Rhys stated without so much as a lead up. Straight to business then.

“The queens are no longer a threat,” Cassian mused, dropping into a nearby sofa with no desire to confront Rhy’s straightforwardness.

“I need Azriel at Mount Ramiel,” Rhys corrected, tone leaving no room for discussion.

Cassian’s eyes darted between his brothers as the temperature in the room suddenly dropped. Leaning against the far wall, shadows coiled and snapped at the spymasters shoulders. His lips parted, an argument rising from his throat.

“The outside interests surrounding Ramiel concern me. Given Nesta’s vision, I believe it’s something we should look into with haste. If there is something of interest there, Azriel will find it,” Rhysand offered, cutting off the shadowsinger.

None of this came as a surprise to Az other than being kept out of the decision making. Ever since the Blood Rite, the war camps had been acting suspiciously and he knew it bothered Rhys to the point of keeping the high lord awake at night.

“You’re sending Azriel to the war camps,” Cassian barked. “Are we cutting them loose? Razzing them to the ground, then?”

“I’m not sending you to deal with the Illyrians,” Rhys corrected, eyes on his spymaster, and shook his head.

“He’s sending me to sneak around in the dark,” Azriel offered.

“You are quite good at it,” his brother smirked, violet eyes flashing in reply. “I’ve had the priestesses pull everything from the library, including my own personal collection. Lore, histories, whatever they could find.” Rhys took a long, slow sip of tea, eyes closing only briefly. “Gwyn has offered to assist in translations. Her command of ancient language is rather impressive.”

“Should you really be dragging the priestess into this,” Azriel accused.

“She volunteered,” Rhys countered with a shrug. “Besides, I think she’s proven herself to be capable, don’t you? She’s identified some areas of interest around the eastern slope. A good place to start.”

Seething, Azriel attempted to put a damper on his temper. He couldn’t help but feel that Rhys had gone behind his back. It was one thing to order him about, but what was he thinking involving Gwyn? The priestesses were never a part of this side of the kingdoms business. Icy rage spilled, drip by drip, down Azriel’s spine.

“Cassian,” Rhys observed, turning to their brother, “Elain was waiting for you at the River House this morning. Something about a cake needing to be retrieved? If you go now you might catch Nyx before his mid-morning nap.”

There was no argument from their brother. Carefully his gaze met Azriel’s, a gentle warning in their depths. He often found himself in the middle of their conflicts and Azriel had to respect that he didn’t complain about it. Much.

“I’ll let Nes know you won’t be at dinner,” he said. With a heavy sigh Cass lifted from the couch. He nodded his dark head at Rhys and then Az before sauntering back out into the light.

“What is this really about,” Azriel asked, voice as cold as his stare.

“I beg your pardon?” Rhys cooed with a raised brow.

“Why wasn’t I included in the planning?”

“I didn’t need you for it.”

The declaration hit Azriel in the chest like a fist. Air rushed out between his lips in a shocked gasp. He stepped forward, dragging shadow with him.

“Rhys-“

“It’s nothing personal, Az,” Rhys pleaded.

“Personal,” Azriel growled, voice low. “I’m your spymaster and brother.”

“Az-“

“You’re overstepping,” Azriel went on, the words flowing like the Sidrah - cold and unstoppable. “Again, you’re taking everything on yourself.”

“I’m only doing what I can to keep everyone safe.”

“Safe,” Azriel accused, “Is that what you were doing keeping Feyre in that bubble? Honestly, how do you find that any different than how Tam-“

“Enough!”

Beneath them the mountain shook, rattling glass and sending a few stray books to the floor. Rhys was on his feet, wings snapped open behind him. On opposite sides of the room, one bathed in shadow the other night incarnate, they regarded one another.

“Brother,” Rhys once again pleaded with his spymaster. “I know you’re angry with me. I admit, I have not been myself. Between Feyre and Nyx, you and Koschei - the fucking Dread Trove,” he trailed off, running a hand through his dark hair. “We’re spread thin, you know that. We need our allies. Old and new.”

He’d all but said the same on Solstice. After all these years did Rhys not see him? See beyond the courts infamous torturer? To the male that lurked inside his own shadows? A long, tense silence labored between them. As always, an impasse.

“Azriel, let yourself feel something for once. I don’t care who-“

“Is that all,” Azriel grunted, moving his gaze away from the high lord’s. If Rhys opened his mouth with more shit to give he was sure he’d lose what was left of his shredded control.

“Dismissed,” Rhys conceded, shoulders dropping.

Azriel was outside and shooting off the balcony into the sky before Rhys could utter another word. His wings churned the air with each vicious beat. Burning agitation flooded through him. HE could feel it in his very bones. Attempting to soothe, his shadows coiled close, whispering.

Rhys had a lot of nerve. Of anyone, he knew Azriel best. Mor always accused them of being too similar and its why they didn’t always see eye to eye. He wasn’t sure he agreed with that assessment. Rhys was level headed and controlled. Azriel felt as if he were unraveling. Control wasn’t the way he’d describe it, rather an effort to hide it all away so it didn’t need to be dealt with.

The training rings came into view as he rose but he didn’t linger, swinging wide so that he’d remain unseen. Dots of color milled about. The priestesses were gathering for training. He could sense Nesta below with Emerie. And her.

He would have to send word to Gwyn about postponing their lessons. Meeting with her had become something of a guilty pleasure. He found he enjoyed teaching the doe eyed priestess more than he thought he might. Training was Cassian’s thing. Az found he didn’t often have the patience or care for it.

Shadows hissed, warning not to rely on Clotho for this. Azriel would be better served sending a note himself. The thought of those large, sea glass eyes darkening with disappointment made his chest ache.

Let yourself feel something.

Rhys’ words replayed in his ear as Azriel made the descent to the townhouse. He’d moved his things over months ago though Cassian always seemed to find some excuse to get him back to the House of Wind. Despite living there for years it no longer felt like home to him.

It hadn’t come as a surprise when Rhys had asked him to chaperone his brother and future mate. Neither himself nor Rhys actually expected Azriel to have to step in between the two. Rhys had simply wanted a backup in the event Nesta lost control which was likely to happen given how often her and Cassian argued.

So, Az had let them battle things out on their own. And they had. All over the House in fact. Repeatedly.

Though he had to admit, interrupting them at the most awkward times had become a game to him. But, he had, in all the ways one would being around a newly mated pair, grew incredibly frustrated. In a way it had become a torture of its own.

That frustration was likely what fueled his blunder the night of Solstice. One look at Elain and he’d been as hard as the mountainside the House of Wind was carved from. Azriel hadn’t been able to help himself. She was beautiful and everything he forbid himself. She wanted him, it was obvious, which made the entire situation all the more confusing.

In the end, he wasn’t sure where he stood with the girl. Cassian’s hadn’t been wrong in his assessment. They’d barely spoken to one another, let alone discussed her intentions with Lucien… Azriel would rather not think on the male who’d sat idly by while his high lady’d been tormented.

Landing at one of the terraces, Az made his way into the townhouse. He’d taken the largest room upstairs. It had the most wall space for his blade collection.

Azriel threw daggers and maps into his pack with such force, they almost went through the bottom of the bag. Rhys was right to send him on this mission. He needed space. A couple months in the mountains would do good to clear his head.

Before he locked up after himself, Azriel grabbed some paper from his desk and wrote a quick note to Gwyn. His careful words sounded clipped and overly formal as he reread the hastily scratched message, but shrugged off the concern with indifference.

Without goodbyes, the shadowsinger quietly left the city of Velaris. His wings carried him away, further into the mountains. He tucked all thought of his brothers and the priestess with molten hair from his mind. Wrapping himself in shadow, Azriel became the cold, unfeeling monster his reputation afforded him.

He felt nothing. Was nothing. His Illyrian wings carried him further away until he was nothing but a bruise against an otherwise perfect sky.

[insufferablelust]

Naughty list. (ThrilledAu!Mgg x Reader)

Warnings : Slight smut, Spanking, D/s themed ofc, The use of ‘sir’ & ‘daddy’, mention of edging, mention of overstimulation for future reference, sadist!mgg, condescending!dom, Marking, Its.. um Filthy as many of you already know. Please read at your own discretion.

Hello this is the christmas one shot i’ve promised, its 3 am rn and im so sorry i just done finishing this because things had been so chaotic. But i hope y’all enjoy and please wait up patiently for my next fics which will come in the next several days as promised.

PLEASE NOTE : This blurb sets inside my Thrilled Au, after the Bratty Rendezvous chapter which i have yet to upload, though i will upload it very soon. So basically this fic is the filler chapter and a teaser for the two upcoming chapters of thrilled! so i hope that makes sense and i hope y’all enjoy it. Happy holidays and Merry christmas! Take care, x D

MASTERLIST HERE.

He felt her before he even opens his eyes, a small smile threaten to quirk at the side of her lips in response to the feeling of small kisses all along his face down to his neck— the oh so warm familiar kisses by the love of his life.

“Matthew wake up.” Y/N whispered, giggling to herself as she felt him grunt below her at the feeling of her sinful lips nips and bites onto his skin, “It’s christmas morning, come on daddy.” She whispered once more, but this time doing it with grinding down where her bum was sat prettily atop of his crotch, just enough to make him wrap his hand around her neck.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” His grip tighten a bit just then, as her eyes closed and a smile etched beautifully onto her lips. Matthew scoffed at her reaction before sitting up on the bed, bringing her up with him so he could lean against the headboard.

“J-just waking you..” Was all that she could manage, with shallow breaths and innocently batting her lashes up at him. “Oh, princess..” He murmured as he finally took in the sight of her.

She’s perched up beautifully on her lap, with her thigh high christmas themed socks, his sweater and a collar— a special one he had gifted her a few days prior, with the color red and his named engraved on the inside lining where nobody could see but she certainly could feel. On the outside, it might look like a normal choker necklace but they both know very well that that’s not the case. Its a symbol of him, latched onto her every second of the day— its their dynamic, its how they work.

“You look like a dream, little one..” He gasped, as she whines on his lap, a perfect little noise reserved only for him, making his hard on pressed oh so good against her bottom. “Dressed up for y-you!” Y/N exclaimed happily and slightly out of breath by the way Matthew’s grip just tightens and tightens— just like he was trying to squeeze the cuteness out of her.

God, you’re his, and his his his only.

“I know baby, so so pretty for me, being so so good.” He gave her cheek a pretty light slap, just to make her gasp and leave her sweet little mouth open slightly— all messy and beautiful. “Thank you daddy, just for you.” She smiled then, awaiting for his instruction just like how he likes it— or more importantly, just like how she craves it.

Matthew cocks his head to the side a little as he contemplates on what he’s going to do with her, it’s always like this with them— just wanting to do so many things, explore everything, explore each other’s limits, especially hers. Always hers, he thinks, whatever makes her happy.

So with a simple instruction he lessen the grip on her neck before pressing a small kiss on her forehead, “Go to our room now, and be on your position, daddy has to make some calls for our party this evening but you better be on your position by the time i get there or else.” He taps her cheeks twice, eyes pierced onto hers— as she nods a little, “yes daddy.”

“Go on.” She smiled before pressing a gentle peck to his lips, getting up and padded her tiny feet towards the door, “Oh and princess?”

“Yes daddy?”

“anything off but the socks and your collar.”

—

He’s doing this on purpose, your mean mean daddy is doing this on purpose— making you wait on your knees by the bench inside your dungeon, just waiting and waiting until you feel your knees beginning to fall asleep on you. But you tried your best to be presentable, just how daddy likes it.

Your body jumps a little when the sound of his footsteps rang through the room, sound of the door closing has your feet tingling and your cunt wet, oh he could definitely see the glisten gleam from it for sure.

“I thought you’d be well acquainted with my rules by now, pup.” He let out a disapproving sigh, which made your cheeks warmer and you instantly straighten your back, part your thigh a little and gulps— trying to remember what you did wrong this time.

“I—“

“Ah ah, you know better than to speak without my permission in this room do you?” He scoffed, walking around the room just to tantalize you, sending shiver up your spine. “you were good this morning, so good that daddy had half the mind to make you cum but now i’m not so sure.” He adds, which earn a gasp from you, Oh how you wanted to cum, you want to cum so so bad, the last time you did was a week ago when you were still in Paris— but right after your little bratty rendezvous there was no way in hell, he’d let you cum, oh no no, kitten doesn’t deserve to cum until master says so.

You bit your lip in agony, trying to block the tears that were about to slip from your pretty eyes down your heated cheeks, just trying to do anything he asks— anything. You let out a gasp as he tilt your chin up, which he cooed at and sigh softly, whilst his thumb brush side to side on top of your lips.

“Look at your tears, baby. Do you think it’ll work? hm? you think because daddy’s little elf put on a show this morning, that daddy is going to let this slide?” He pouts condescendingly, watching as the tears finally dripped down your cheeks, oh he wanted to photograph this so bad, his little fairy.

“Go on, answer daddy.” He pats your cheek with his thumb as you tried to find the courage to speak, “I-I’m sorry d-daddy.. i.. please..” Matthew sighed softly, seeing the genuine regret behind your eyes has him reprimanding your punishment, daddy was a tamer, but he was and will always be fair— forgetfulness is a human mistake, besides it’s christmas, and he figured he needed to give you something from all the torture you’ve endured since Paris.

“Up, princess. Let daddy braid your hair.” He tugged her collar a little which earned a gasp from her, though it was a combination between the sensation on her neck and realization on what she did wrong, “Daddy i—“

“Shh, up.” He cuts you off before you could mutter an apology, or several apologies. You should’ve known better, if he told you to be on position, what he always meant is for you to be on your knees by the bench, with your hair untied specifically because he likes to braid you before play time, and today you’ve put your hair up, completely forgetting a clear important rule. Matthew helped you get on your shaky feet, as you trembled a little, whispering a small, “thank you daddy.” Before facing the bench, back toward him so he could process on your hair.

“Tell daddy why he’s punishing you tonight.” He hummed behind her, fingers expertly tangle and untangle through her hair, looping each side to the center as he formed a perfect braid from the top of her hair and making his way down. “Because i forgot daddy’s rule.” You muttered shakily, voice laced with regrets at yourself for disappointing daddy.

“Which rule is it, pup?” His voice seemed so close now, she could practically feel his warm breath against her skin that she zoned out for a moment before a tug on her hair brought her back, “I— i didn’t untie my hair, sir.”

“Why is it important?”

“Because daddy needs to braid my hair, and.. and it teaches me to.. remembers daddy’s rules.” You finished with a sigh, before feeling a soft kiss placed on top of your shoulder blades, “10 with my hands. Go and bend over the bench, bunny.”

—

Y/N braced herself as she felt the stinging, heated sensation smacked across her bottom, making her grip tighten onto the railing bench and her body shakes a little. “F-Five, thank y-you daddy.”

“Color?” Matthew pressed his palm against her stinging skin as he try to soothe the aching pain a bit, it’s true that they both love this— loves the thrill, the pain, and the overall pleasure that comes from this. However, Matthew would never enjoy hurting his bunny without any context, or out of proportion, it might look like he has all the control but they both knows well that she has all the control, if she wants to stop, she knows what she needed to say.

“G-Green sir please.” Oh how he loves the way her voice croaked underneath him, the way she arched her back toward him— as if asking for more, ready for more just as she deserve, as she behaved. So he delivered then, 3 slaps in a row as she cries out between each milliseconds, and sobs out the thank you’s and pleas.

“just two more now, y’think you can take it, petal?” Matthews hand crept up to where your collar snuggly wrapped around your neck, thumbing the soft leather as he makes sure you’re still okay which you confirmed by a ‘yes daddy, please continue’

The last two slaps were unexpected, catching her off guard as it landed way way below where her cunt drips dewy sweet honey, and where her by now— swollen little pearl sits, making her jumps and scream out in a blissed pleasure. “Fuck! oh! nine ten! daddy thank you!”

“Shh shh, come here, good girl.” Matthew gently helped her stand before picking her up bridal style and sit down onto the bed which was installed on their room, his lips were pressed tightly onto her forehead as he soothes her aching skin and mumble calming words. “It’s okay, ‘s all over, such a good girl, little one.”

“Daddy...”

“Yes angel?”

“Do i deserve to cum now?”

“Oh petal, you will be begging to stop cumming later, just you wait.”

—

EXCUSE MY GRAMMARS AND TYPOS, my laptop is not accessible right now so i have to use my phone to write and upload so please bear with me. Thank you, i love you and take care.

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[king-maven-calore]

prompt #25 “your hair is really soft” for marecal please 😙

I did this and "10 cal and mare please. idc who says it lol"👀 in a single drabble, I hope you guys don't mind. It's a modern AU I guess

Cal had been volunteering at the Scarlet Guard summer camp for two seasons now, this would be his third. The first time he’d been here as moral support for Ptolemus, who’d been sent here for his community service sentence. Ptolemus had signed up again for the following summers for Wren, a med student in charge of the infirmary, and Cal kept signing up because he found out he loved working with children.

He always had a great time helping the kids, training them in archery and other sports, patting their backs when they got homesick, leading them on walks through the woods belting out marching songs, sitting with them at lunch, and making good use of his excellent puns arsenal. The kids had a blast, and he did too.

In this part of the Greatwoods Region, he found paradise. His dad disapproved and Maven did not understand but was he too happy to mind.

It would have been a shame if he’d proven them right on his third year here when he almost died out of sheer stupidity. But could he be blamed? Could he be blamed when the five new counselors got down from one of the early buses and one of them looked like that?

Among the newbies, there was a petite girl with golden skin that seemed to sparkle under the early morning sun. She jumped down from the bus and a cloud of dirt exploded around her already dirty Vans, her toned legs were generously exposed under her jean shorts, and the lines of her abdomen peeking out from under the camp’s counselor reglementary red polo shirt as she stretched and arched her back to tie her dyed brown and purple hair in a bun, scowling at her surroundings with something akin to distrust. She was the loveliest girl he’d ever seen in such a violent way... was it really his fault he didn’t pay attention to the lightbulbs he’d been changing at the side of the dining hall, perched atop a rickety ladder 10 feet above the ground? It wasn’t. Electricity didn’t give a shit about whose fault was it though when he blindly stuck his hand in the exposed wires next to the light socket.

A white explosion, sparkles, and a sensation of being pulled away at 1000 miles per hour.

Next thing he knew, he was on his back and there was a warm mouth against his. Warm, soft, insistent— on breathing air into him. And good god, this person smelled like heaven; jasmine and rain. Much to his dismay, the scent and the mouth left him and his chest started getting crushed in rhythmic, urgent motions.

Cal gulped air and shot upright. He was surrounded by 20 consternated young faces and one barely inches away from his face. Beautiful, wide brown eyes, thick long eyelashes that brushed against high cheekbones when the girl who’d just saved his life blinked twice.

“Dude.” Kneeling next to him, the girl with the purple hair knitted her brow. “What the fuck?”

And Cal couldn’t help but smile at her. A reflex. She was even prettier up close.

“I think we should check for brain damage,” a blond with bottle green eyes muttered.

Oh, but his brain was fine. It was his heart he should get checked, for he’d just been struck by Cupid’s arrow.

And electricity, of course. The smell of burnt hair, clothes, and flesh reminded him.

The result of that encounter turned out to be quite positive. Yes, he got a second-degree burn on his right hand and a dislocated shoulder from the fall but he refused to be sent home, it had been worth it to get to meet Mare Barrow.

She was 18, from Albanus, only here for the money, best friends with the blondie jokester and— as he learned after a dubiously moral social media stalking session —single and interested in men.

The only thing he regretted from that “meet cute” was that he’d been mostly unconscious (technically dead) for 99% of the time her lips were on his.

He lived for the moments they crossed paths during their daily activities around the camp. His heart grew in size about five times when she teased him and lightly punched his stomach or ruffled his hair.

Ptolemus cocked a brow but kept his mouth thankfully shut when Cal decided to start sitting on the counselor’s table during dinner instead of with the kids, as he had grown accustomed to.

It was miserable and extraordinary how he even found the way she ate her food endearing. More often than not, miserable because he couldn’t A: get her to like him, for she was too laser-focused on doing her job efficiently and getting the hell out of the camp; B: touch her as casually as she did with him because his hand was bandaged, and C: relationships between counselors were strictly forbidden.

By the time his hand was healthy enough to be of any use, three weeks had passed and he was head over heels, neck-deep (to not use other body parts for reference), stupidly in love with the sarcastic girl who had put her own breath into his lungs, challenged him every time they got the chance and looked at him like she wanted to sink her hand into his ribcage to take a bite out of his heart. Needless to say, he wanted to touch her. Badly. Ok, maybe do a bit more than 'touch', but you get the idea.

His excuse was handed on a silver platter by one of his favorite campers, Luther Carver. The kid who was usually off-standish and grim— just misunderstood, in Cal’s opinion – had signed up for the braiding lessons that Mare was unhappily in charge of.

On his way back from the lake, his crew of kids trailing behind him, he passed along the group of girls and Luther taking their lesson, sitting in a circle on the grass between the pine trees. An idyllic image of children focused on their task, and Mare’s poorly concealed discomfort as she sat on a log bench and supervised the activities, biting the inside of her cheek, elbows on her knees. It should be illegal to be that beautiful without meaning to.

“Hi, Cal!” Luther chirped as a girl behind him stared with furious determination at her handiwork. “How does my hair look?”

Cal signaled for his group to keep walking back to the camp and approached the small clearing.

“It looks amazing, buddy!” Cal gave him a thumb up. To be honest, his braid of long black hair was slightly (very) crooked to the left, and Mare noticed. She hid her laugh behind cough and a fist. “It is very original.”

Luther beamed and turned slightly to wink in his fellow camper’s direction. The girl blushed and giggled and Cal wanted nothing more than to give them a bear hug and tell them how smart and kind they were. Kids were the best thing in this world. Especially when they said things like...

“Mare’s hair is still the same,” Luther sighed wearily. “Someone should do something about it.”

All the girls hummed and nodded in agreement and Mare closed her eyes and Cal could read her thoughts as she counted to ten.

“Fine, you guys win.” Ah, so her untouched hair had been a recurring topic. “Cal can braid my hair!” she said with fake excitement that went over the kids’ heads, thankfully. “If he knows how to, that is.” Her brown eyes locked with his in camaraderie, fully expecting him to turn down the task with some excuse to appease their audience.

“Ok,” he shrugged happily as he walked over to her and her smug face dissolved into a confused frown and the kids cheered.

He made a shooing motion with his hand and she moved to sit on the grass awkwardly while he took her place on the log bench, sitting with his feet placed on either side of her body.

“What the hell are you doing?” she whispered through gritted teeth so only he could hear her, craning her neck up to glare at him, when he started cracking his knuckles for dramatic effect.

Were this any other context, he would savor the warmth her body radiated to the inside of his legs. Not this context. Absolutely not.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he smirked down at her. “Now stop moving and let me braid your hair.”

With one last suspicious look, she heaved a breath and stared ahead as he tugged the scrunchie off her hair and let the brown and purple waves spill down her back.

Cal had no fucking clue how to do braid but how hard could it be? It was like a knot with hair. Right? He looked at what the girls sitting on the grass were doing. Ok, that seemed doable. He combed his long fingers through Mare’s hair to loosen any knots and... Holy. Fucking. Shit.

He successfully hid a shudder while Mare uninterestedly hugged her knees to her chest.

He was choking on his own breath. Her hair was so soft and the scent of it was so amazing it pierced his fingertips, reached his bloodstream, and shot to his head. Jasmine and rain like that first day. Cal stilled for a moment and blinked forcefully to regain some semblance of rational thought.

“What is it?” Mare muttered curtly. Was it his imagination or did it sound more like a gasp than scolding?

“Nothing,” he said and started imitating the nearest girl’s technique. No point in lying, he bent down to whisper in her ear. “Your hair is really soft.” It wasn’t meant to come out so raspy and needy, and still...

Mare turned to the side and they were face to face. She seemed offended, but not really, with a confused glare darkening her burning gaze, a lovely red tint spreading all over her cheeks and neck, slightly parted plush lips.

She looked on the verge of kissing him or punching him. Cal prayed and ached it was the former because she licked her lips, leaving a glossy sheen and he wanted nothing more than to...

“OHHH Mare and Cal sitting in a tree!” A girl squealed, pointing at them from across the clearing and suddenly 10 pairs of devilish eyes were on them and chanting. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

They jumped away from each other so fast one might think they had been electrocuted again as they rushed to explain that “No, they were NOT doing anything of the sort!”

[teruthecreator]

sweet surprises

lord forgive me for the cringe i’m about to post. i fully blame this post and this post for planting the seeds of berdley having a crush on kris in my brain. also shouts out to izel for listening to me go insane at 3 AM about this. 

anyways, here’s a thing. 

______________________________________________________________

Excitement is in the air.

Unlike the usual calm monotony of life at school, things recently have been quite...electric. Not because of the portal to the Dark World hidden behind the door of the closet, or the adventures had by a select group of students through the portal in the Librarby a few days ago. No, this isn’t about that.

This is about the Sadie Hawkman’s Dance. The once-a-year phenomenon where the school puts on its best interpretation of a formal dance for the incredibly small number of students who attend class. Students buzz in excitement for the event, preparing their most formal outfits and getting ready to dazzle their friends and fellow classmates with their dramatic entrances into the auditorium.

And, of course, there’s the all important ritual of asking someone to the dance.

There’s already been a few proposals made this week. Jockington rolled into class like a hula hoop and asked Catti to be his “best bro” for the dance, to which she happily agreed. (And by that, I mean she looked up from her phone, smiled, said not a single word, and went back to typing.) Temmie loudly announced to the class that she would be taking her egg, which was somehow...embarrassed that she mentioned it. And, of course, Noelle finally managed to work up enough courage to ask Susie to the dance. It was done in an incredible display of candy canes that spelled out the phrase: “CAN(E) YOU BE MY DATE TO THE DANCE?” Unfortunately, Susie was about halfway through scarfing the display down before she realized what it said. She then began choking on one of the candy canes out of disbelief, which wound her in the nurse for the rest of the day. But, when she could speak again, she very quietly agreed to Noelle’s proposal (and, if you happened to be a fly on the wall in that room, you could hear a tail thump rhythmically against the doctor’s bench as she did so).

Kris was pleased with everything. They were happy to see their friends so happy together. A long time coming, if you asked them. And they’d be just as happy attending the dance solo, since they’ll undoubtedly be dragged along by Susie. They’d never gone to the dance before--never had a reason to, truth be told. But with their newfound friends, they may just enjoy being a wingman for the night.

...Speaking of wingmen, Berdly will probably be going solo as well. Unsurprising, but Kris makes a mental note to ensure the bird will be in attendance. As much as he is kind of a lot sometimes, he’s their friend. And Kris is going to make sure all of their friends are having fun at that dance!

They walk into class thinking of this (surprisingly early, for a change), which is why they almost miss the massive display sitting boldly atop their desk. They freeze the instant it catches their eye and, for a second, they almost believe it isn’t real. Like some leftover thoughts of the Dark World lingering in their vision. But, after wiping their eyes and seeing that it’s still there, they decide to approach and...investigate.

The display is expertly crafted by someone who clearly knows their way around a glue gun. It is a heart-shaped arch that is decorated with a myriad of printed illustrations of Super Smashing Fighters Melee characters, all having cut-outs to hold different bars of chocolate. There are also numerous origami hearts glued around the characters on the arch, in colors spanning across the rainbow. The arch is painted in swirls of blues, pinks, and reds and covered with a border of glitter that sprinkles onto the desk when Kris reaches out to pluck a chocolate bar from its perch. On the desk itself is a big origami heart that says “TO KRIS” in gold calligraphy. It is by far one of the coolest, nicest, cheesiest things Kris has ever seen.

They look up from the display to see if anyone else is seeing this shit, and that’s when it all clicks.

Because sitting at the front of the classroom, fidgeting way more than normal, is Berdly. He keeps interlocking his ankles underneath his desk before unlocking them and kicking the air, turning around every half-second or so to try and catch Kris’s reaction. From the brief moments Kris can see the front of him, they notice he’s not in his usual white collared shirt and black khaki shorts. Instead, his shirt is buttoned all the way up, with a nice blue bowtie tied around his neck. He also traded out his khaki shorts for a pair of dress pants that look to be a tad too long for his legs. He keeps reaching up to smooth out the feathers on his head, which immediately stick back up from stress.

Now, Kris may be a straight B student, but they’re not stupid. Context clues are a very good thing, and all signs point to Berdly as the culprit of this public display of...affection?

Beyond Berdly is Ms. Alphys at her desk, who shoots Kris a look of deep understanding and maybe...guilt? She looks at Berdly for a split second and shrugs her shoulders, indicating he was probably in here long before she was and so she had no way of stopping him from leaving it there.

Kris looks back down at the display and picks up the large origami heart. As they begin to unfold it, they see a sprawling letter written in the same flashy calligraphy. Kris squints at the letters--they’re dyslexic, so everything kind of just looks like spaghetti on paper. Still, they’re able to make out the largely printed question of “WILL YOU GO TO THE DANCE WITH ME?” with no issue.

Huh, guess they won’t be going to the dance alone after all…? It’s a little confusing as to why Berdly would want to go with them, though. Like, they’ve hung out a little bit--usually whenever Berdly wanted a “worthy rival” to play video games with, he would come over and Kris would whoop his ass for a few hours. And, of course, there were the recent events in the Cyber World; but Kris is pretty sure them and Susie had thoroughly convinced Noelle and Berdley that that was all a dream. So, why them?

They’re lost in this train of thought for so long that they don’t even notice the other kids enter the room until they suddenly hear:

“Yo, Kris???????? What the heck is this thing????” Susie’s voice doesn’t startle them, but it is loud enough to get them to look up. Susie is standing next to their desk, looking at the display with genuine amazement thinly masked by disgust. She’s also loud enough to basically stop the whole class (who were all muttering amongst themselves about it anyway), which gives Kris only a second to gaze around the room before--

SLAM!

The door to the classroom slams shut, leaving one seat unoccupied.

Berdley’s.

“This thing’s got chocolate on it????” Susie continues to marvel at the display while Kris looks at the door, frowning. They feel...bad. It isn’t Berdley’s fault for trying to fit in with the other kids' proposals; he admitted to feeling like he needs to do more just to stand out enough for people to acknowledge him back in the Dark World. And this thing is really...thoughtful! The characters are all ones Kris typically mains, or ones they know Berdley mains, which means he remembers things about Kris. And the chocolate is a given, but it is nice to be able to stock their personal snack stash with some fancy stuff. Ultimately, it’s very sweet, and Kris can’t help but feel a little guilty for not saying anything immediately.

They turn and lock eyes with Ms. Alphys, who looks extremely out-of-depth with this situation. She makes a number of gestures from them to the door in a flustered way of saying I have absolutely no idea what the hell is going on please help me Kris I know I’m asking a lot of you but I don’t know how to deal with teenage angst I’m like thirty-five. They sigh, standing up and walking past Susie (but not before giving her a stare that warns her if a single chocolate bar is gone that they will be holding that over her until the day she dies) and following Berdly out the door.

It doesn’t take Kris very long to follow the trail of labored breathing to where Berdley is--in the abandoned classroom, hyperventilating as he teeters on a breakdown. Luckily, when Kris opens the door, it seems to put a halt to his spiralling because he just kind of...freezes. Like a deer caught in headlights. Or a Berdley caught in Kris-lights. Kris takes this moment to let the door shut behind them, trapping the two in here. Together.

“U-Uhhhhh, hi--he--Um. H-Hello, K-Kris…” Berdly attempts to put on his usual bravado, but his voice betrays him brutally by squeaking and cracking on every syllable. Kris can’t help the smile that comes to their face.

“Uh, hey,” they reply with a wave. Berdley continues to stand there and stare (almost like he wasn’t expecting Kris to care enough to follow him) before the present circumstances return to his mind and he begins breathing hard again.

“I-I-I-I, uh...I was. Um. J-Just, uh. G-Getting some fresh air! Y-Yes! The classroom can be s-so stuffy sometimes, I’m sure y-you--you, uh...you agree?” Berdley makes a valiant attempt at hiding his panic, which Kris almost takes pity on. But they don’t think the monster will feel any better if they just pretend what happened back there never happened.

“Yeah. I liked the display.” Kris says simply. Berdley stands stock-straight at that, looking even worse for wear in the “being normal and completely cool” department.

“O-Oh??????? That ol’ thing????? I, um--well I just--y-you see, I--uh. Um,” You can really hear the gears in his head turning as he attempts to come up with an excuse. “I-I-I just thought you w-would appreciate the craftsmanship of!!! A t-true artisan, such as myself!!! So, I!!! M-Made it!!! COMPLETELY PLATONICALLY, OF COURSE!!!! I-I would never imply that my intentions w-were anything other than for bro-sies, i--You didn’t read that whole card, did you?”

“I can’t read,” They mean this as a joke, but they can see Berdley seriously consider this for a second too long. “Dude, I’m dsylexic. I can’t really read cursive…” Berdley freezes up once more, which makes Kris realize they haven’t really projected that as loudly as they might’ve thought.

“Oh! Right! How could I forget! That you’re! Dsylexic!” Berdley’s smile is stapled to his face as he begins to rhythmically knock on his head. “And I! Wrote! That! Entire! Note! In! Cursive! Which! You! Can’t! Read!!!” Kris steps forward in an attempt to keep Berdley from bashing his own skull in, but that only makes Berdley more tense, so they take a step back. “I-I just--The note isn’t important! None of it’s important actually can we forget this interaction ever happened okay? Okay yes that’s great have a wonderful day Kris I will be returning home to sitinmyroomandneverreturntothecorporealrealmalrightgoodbyeforeverKris--” He attempts to sidestep around Kris and out the door, but is very easily intercepted.

“Stop.” Kris grabs him by the shoulders, which seems to shut him up for a second. “Can you just tell me what’s wrong?” Berdley gapes at them as his face steadily grows redder, which makes Kris feel as if there’s something on their face. But he quickly shakes it off, going from completely neurotic to...dejected.

“I just…” He starts, trailing off immediately. “You deserve to have a big proposal, same as everyone else. I-I see you in the back of the class, just...watching. And I, uh, felt it was time to...give you the spotlight! But that was silly of me, wasn’t it?” He looks off to the side at the floor, smiling sadly. “After all, who’d want to go to the dance with me…? I-I’m alone every year, standing in the background. Just kind of...taking it all in...and th-thinking about how it’d be...nice to be a part of it. But that’s...not probable. It was just nice to think about taking you to the dance because you’re--well, you’re nice to me, and you’re funny, and you actually listen to me when I’m talking, an-and you’re a good person and an incredible gaming legend...but I shouldn’t have put it all on you in front of everyone...I’m. I’m sorry, Kris.” He won’t make eye contact with the human, but Kris can still see the tears collecting in his eyes.

“Berdley, that’s stupid.” Kris says, which Berdley cringes at, “Why wouldn’t I wanna go with you?” That part is...not what Berdley was expecting. He looks up at Kris, unsure of where to go from here.

“U-Um…? Because of all the previously stated things? Like me being a complete loser who nobody likes?”

“I like you,” Kris replies immediately, leaving Berdley’s feathers sticking straight up as he flusters. “And I like your display. It’s...really sweet.”

“E-Even if you can’t read the note?” Berdley’s voice cracks.

“I mean, I could read the: WILL YOU GO WITH ME TO THE DANCE part, so, like. Yeah.” Kris shrugs. “Plus, you got me chocolate. Nice chocolate. Nobody...gets me things like that.” They smile, a light dusting of blush across their face. “I’ll go with you.” Berdley’s entire body seizes up for the third time, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“W-W-w-W-w-w-w-w-W-W-W-w-w-w-Wh-Wha-wh-w-w-wha-wha-w-wh-Wh-Wha-wh-Wha-wha-w-w-W-W-W--” Berdley continues to struggle with the word “what” for a solid minute and a half before he’s finally about to manage a: “What?!” Kris can’t help but laugh.

“I said that, Berdley,” at this, they move their grip from his shoulders to his hands, “I will go to the Sadie Hawkman’s dance with you.”

The circuits in Berdley’s brain struggle with this frequency for an extended moment before his face erupts in the giddiest smile Kris has ever seen the bird monster sport. He even begins to jump up and down, taking Kris along with him, as he cackles. It is a surprisingly cute display that Kris finds themselves blushing a bit at. It’s nice to be this...cared about.

“I-I--We have to start thinking of outfits immediately!” Berdley blurts out, returning to their usual demeanor. “I was thinking of some complimentary color schemes on the way to school today which I will be happy to show you at lunchtime. I’m also a master with a sewing machine, so if you are unable to procure an outfit that meets the color requirements, I would be delighted to take your measurements and--w-wait, don’t read into that phrasing, I just m-meant that I could make an outfit for you! B-But I’d need your measurements, and--Oh, goodness, hasn’t class started already, Kris?! We should head back, but--” He looks from the door to Kris and back again a few times before finally settling on something.

“I’lltalktoyouaboutthislaterseeyouinclassKris!!!!!” He says this right before he gives Kris a solitary peck on the cheek before bolting out of the abandoned classroom, leaving Kris blinking at the Berdley-shaped cloud he left behind. Their hand gently grazes the spot on their cheek--luckily not actually pecked by his beak, but more of a quick-kiss kind of peck--and feel their heart skip a beat.

Huh.

That’s...different.

They elect to not dwell on that feeling any longer and head back to class. They have to make sure Susie hasn’t eaten all of the chocolate on that display.

They wouldn’t want to make Berdley go through the trouble of re-proposing  just so they could rightfully claim their other sweet surprise.

[bubblesuga]

needy

“Tell me how good it feels to be needed. . .” 

Summary: Hoseok leaves for Seoul in less than 12 hours, and you’re desperate to tell him how you feel. 

W/C: 2,681

Genre: fluff, smut

Warnings: cussing, unprotected sex, slight daddy kink, slight exhibitionism (it’s car sex lol), dom!hobi, switch!reader, power play

The gentle breeze of the sea brushes your cheek lovingly, the smell of sea salt invading your senses while you watch the blue waves crash against the rocks a mile out from where you sit. Beneath you, your hand buries itself in the cold sand in an attempt to ground yourself further into this abysmal bliss. Beside you sits your best friend, Hoseok. 

Golden skin shines beneath the setting sun, the weather being just cool enough to turn the tip of his nose a soft pink. His smile is small, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth while his eyes travel up and down the coast line. You could stare at him for days. Hell, you have been staring at him for days. You want to memorize every inch of his face, you want to remember the freckle on his top lip and the way his dimples pop every time he jokingly scolds you because tomorrow he’s leaving you. 

You’re just hoping this isn’t the last time you see him. 

Of course you’re happy for your friend. You’ve been to every performance, watched every ribbon be handed his way, and stayed up late into the night to watch him practice the same choreography over and over again in the small garage at his parents’ house. It was only a matter of time before some entertainment label was ready to take him in. You just wished you had more time with him. Alas, you’re beginning college soon and Hoseok is beginning the rest of his life. 

He turns to you, his smile big. You drag your eyes up to meet his, “Yes?” 

“You’re staring at me.” he says simply. 

“And?” you tilt your head, raising an eyebrow. 

He laughs, “It’s kind of creeping me out.” 

You tear your eyes away, a blush creeping up your neck. “I- I’m sorry. I just want to remember you.” 

Hoseok reaches his arm around you, pulling you into his warm embrace as he coos gently, “Ah, lovely _____. It’s not like we’ll never see each other again.” 

He’s always been good at comforting, a trait you’re sure he’s picked up from his mother. The way his hand gently clasps yours and rests atop of your thighs instantly sparks an emotion you had been trying to swallow this entire time because despite how much you tried to ignore it, you’ve fallen in love with Hoseok. 

It’s difficult for you to pinpoint exactly when your feelings came to fruition. Maybe it was at age 16 when he insisted you help him practice his first couples dance, a dance he had been dreading since the beginning of the year. His grip on you was strong, and he lead you under the guise of confidence despite having shaking knees. Or it could have been even earlier. At 14 years old he spent every night under the stars with you, talking about the possibilities of life and where the two of you might end up. It was the first time you rested your head on his chest and listened to his heart beat. 

With your thoughts reeling, you feel a tear slip out of your eye, “I’m just worried that you’ll forget about me.” It feels stupid to say, but the validity of your statement is far stronger than you thought. 

“Hey,” you feel Hoseok shift beneath you, his fingertips brushing your jawline to guide your head in his direction, “I could never forget you. I’ll be back regularly to see you, and before we know it you’ll be in Seoul right beside me.” 

He swipes a tear away and continues, “Besides, you’re too cute to forget.” 

His smile is big, but you still struggle to wipe away the melancholy. Hoseok notices, the grin dropping. He shifts completely, laying his back down in the sand while you fall with him, feeling his grip tighten on you. 

“Talk to me.” 

“Hobi, I-” you begin, but you feel your breath hitch in your throat. The hoodie on your body isn’t doing enough to keep you warm, anxiety chilling you to the bone while you try to process your feelings. It’s now or never, if you don’t tell him then you’ll regret it and he’ll be sent off to Seoul without ever knowing the extent of your feelings. However, if you do he could be completely caught of guard, disgusted even. He’d never be able to look at you the same and your friendship would be ruined. 

But you’re willing to take the chance, because he looks down at you with a calming aura completely engulfing your senses. You’ve forgotten about the beach, you’ve forgotten about the sand. All you know, is him. 

“Do you remember,” you shift your weight, your chin in the center of his chest, “in 6th grade when you were so terrified of your mother finally watching a dance performance that the only thing that could calm you down was me?” 

Hoseok nods, his slender fingers moving to push a piece of hair from your face. Still, his lips stay upturned. 

“And do you remember how you told me that you’re never going to meet someone better at hugging than me?” 

“Still haven’t.” He chuckles, wrapping his arms around your upper back and giving a small squeeze. 

“Well, what if I told you that I,” you take a deep breath, trying not to overthink your next words, “want to do more than hug you?” 

Instantly, Hoseok’s eyes widen and your jaw immediately drops. “W- wait hold on! Let me-” you smack your forehead, “that sounds really bad out of context. I just- I really don’t know how else to say that I am so absolutely in love with you.” 

Hoseok’s jaw stays slack, the smile previously shining his entire face is replaced with down turned lips and eyes so wide that you’re sure that they could fall out of his head.

“I knew this was stupid,” you say, “I shouldn’t have told you because you’re leaving and I’ll still be here and we’ll be living two very different lives butIfeltlikeIhadtotellyouotherwiseIwouldregretitfortherestofmy-” 

“Hey!” Hoseok cuts you off, and your mouth clamps shut with a small whimper. 

Your eyes anxiously bore into his, and you feel tears begin to well again, but before they could fall, Hoseok speaks again. 

“What took you so long?” 

“What?” You ask incredulously. 

“You mean to tell me that the entire time I’m pining after you and fighting off every guy that tried to ask you out, you were in love with me?” Hoseok laughs as if he doesn’t believe what he’s saying. 

“You fought off guys trying to ask me out?” 

“Every damn one of them,” Hoseok says proudly, “you wouldn’t believe how many times a guy would walk up to me to make sure that we weren’t together before they made a move.” 

You let out a giggle, “And what did you say to them?” 

Hoseok pulls your entire body on top of his in one swift movement, chest now against his and your face inches away from his. The proximity causes your skin to flush, your earlier chills long forgotten. 

Hoseok brushes his nose against yours, “I told them you weren’t mine yet, but you were gonna be.” 

With that, he presses his lips to yours. 

At first he moves slow, the cherry balm on his lips enveloping your taste buds with an infinite amount of electric bolts flying up and down your body in a symphony of pleasure. His hands move to your hips, the tips of his fingers digging in while he inhales your scent because finally you are right where he’s wanted you to be. 

He’s not the one to deepen the kiss, though. Instead, your hands grip the collar of his jacket tightly and you tug, signalling Hoseok to flip the two of you over. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he groans into your mouth, “you feel so much better than I imagined.” 

“I’ve wanted this too,” you whisper, “for so long.” 

He grins, capturing your lips again as your legs spread just enough for him to slip between them. He slits perfectly between, his lean body pressing hard against your chest. Hoseok pulls away to begin trailing kisses along your cheeks, then your jawline, and you let out a sigh of happiness. He giggles against your skin, but it stops the moment he bites into your neck. You let out a gasp, arching your back into him. 

“Hobi,” you moan, “Hobi, please.” 

“You need to tell me how far you want this to go, baby.” His voice is much deeper than usual, the growl under his words shooting a jolt of electricity to your core. 

You ponder for a moment, debating whether or not you’re prepared to lose your virginity to your best friend. It certainly isn’t where you expected this to go but you’ve got no complaints. 

“Hoseok,” you grin, pulling his attention away from your neck, “fuck me.” 

His lips trail kisses until he reaches your ear, “That’s what I like to hear.” 

Without warning, he stands abruptly and tugs you upward. Hoseok grips your hand tightly in his as he rushes towards his car. The sun has finally set and the quiet beach which had become your favorite place to hang out was completely silent. When you finally reach his car, Hoseok opens the back door and bows his head. 

The butterflies in your stomach are swarming. 

You slip into Hoseok’s back seat and lay back, watching Hoseok take his place over you again. Slotting between your legs, you feel him grind harshly in the apex of your thighs. 

This is so much better than what you imagined. 

Hoseok’s fingers draw a line down your chest and to the hem of your sweatshirt, tugging gently. “Take it off.” 

It’s a demand you have been waiting to hear forever. 

Hoseok pulls himself off of you and watches you with dark eyes while you slip your hoodie off. Just like Hoseok had imagined, you wore nothing underneath. His sweet tongue dips out to lick his lips at the sight of you, your nipples instantly perking in the coolness of the car. 

“Your turn.” you smirk, loving the way his eyes dance hungrily across your chest. Hoseok doesn’t hesitate to do the same, his nimble fingers then moving to the waistband of his sweats to tug them down. You watch carefully, the grey sweats slipping down his thighs until his cock flies upward freely. Gloriously hard and ready, you lift your hips and slip your own pants down your legs at the sight. 

You’re astonished at your brazen actions, tugging him down to your mouth as Hoseok rolls his hips against yours. Before, you would have never tried something so bold. He doesn’t seem to mind though, because as you push him back onto the seat, he lets out a loud moan. 

Underneath the moonlight, Hoseok’s face is illuminated gorgeously. You slip onto the floor of the car, gripping his cock in your hand. It’s thick, curved, and mouthwatering. He tosses his head back as you stroke your hand up and down, his hips flexing beneath your grip. 

“God, do you know how much I’ve had to stop myself from getting you on your knees for me over the years,” he says, gasping when you lick the tip, “I’ve dreamed about you sucking my cock.” 

You sink your lips around him, dragging your tongue along the underside as you do so. He thrusts, letting out a small apology when he hears you gag around him. However, he’s surprised by the moan that vibrates from your throat while you take him as deep as you possibly can. 

He laces his hands through your hair, gently guiding you up and down, “Look at me,” he demands, “keep looking at me.” 

His chest heaves, and the thrill of having him mewling for more has you moving faster. You suck in your cheeks, watching how his face reacts to each movement you do. Suddenly, his eyes shoot open, “Fuck! No, stop baby. I’m gonna cum if you continue.” 

The gleam in your eye scares Hoseok momentarily as you continue to suck, practically having Hoseok rip you off of him while you let out a giggly. 

“Oh yeah, real funny,” Hoseok rolls his eyes, “don’t be a brat and come here.” 

“Yes, daddy.” You croon, not expecting the way his adam’s apple bobs at the use of the nickname. You merely smile at the affect you have on him, crawling upward and straddling his thighs. He doesn’t shy away from your movements, welcoming your lips on his. Despite the fact that this was your first time, you were very prepared to take Hoseok in his full glory. So, you sink carefully down onto his cock. 

Harmonious moans fill the car as you feel him fill you deliciously. The stretch burns, worse than you anticipated but nothing you couldn’t handle. Instead, you welcomed the pain, hearing him moan into your mouth as you lift yourself up and sink back down again. 

“Fuck,” his hands caress your ass, spreading your cheeks as you ride him, “so wet for me. Such a good girl.” 

“Yes,” you mewl at his words, “I’m your good girl.” 

“Yes you are,” Hoseok chuckles, “taking good care of daddy.” 

One of his hands moves in between the two of you, his thumb brushing against your clit. Instantly, a shriek leaves your lips at the unexpected feeling.  He grunts when your cunt clenches down on his cock, turning his thumb in harsh circles. 

With the added feeling of his thumb against your clit, your orgasm approaches you quickly. A swivel of your hips was enough to let Hoseok know how close you were, and he captures your lips quickly again. 

His hands grip your hips right on the tip of his cock, pausing your movements. You let out a tiny huff, but it’s soon wiped away from you when you feel Hoseok thrust into your cunt as hard as he can. Overwhelmed with the foreign yet amazing feeling, you let out a gasp and bite into your lower lip while you bury your face in his neck. 

“Come on,” Hoseok’s deep voice echos in the small car, “cum on my cock.” 

You feel your cunt clamp down on him, your orgasm washing over you in waves while Hoseok continues to thrust. “So good,” he presses his lips to your temple, “where do you want me?” 

He’s out of breath, but you want to give him the most pleasure you can. “Cum inside me.” 

That was enough to push Hoseok over the edge, a string of curse words falling out of his mouth as he fills your pulsing walls. Hot and wet, you immediately begin to feel it pooling out of you and back down onto Hoseok’s cock, but he doesn’t make an effort to move. Instead, he stays inside you while he brings you back down to him. 

“Are you okay, baby?” Chaste kisses a linked up and down your neck. 

You nod, “Better than okay.” 

You two lay together for a little while, and the sudden realization washes over you that he’s leaving you tomorrow. You’ve just lost your virginity to him, and he’s leaving. 

Yet you don’t regret a single thing. Instead, you sigh, “What am I going to do without you?” 

Hoseok didn’t want to think about the fact that his trunk is filled with his belongings and this is the last time he’ll see you for a little while. He just wanted to enjoy having you in his arms, but the inevitability of change was a mere 12 hours away.

Hoseok presses a kiss to your temple, and in his infinite words of wisdom, speaks huskily, “I’m going to work my ass of to make it big, you’re gonna move to Seoul, and we can be together. Until then,” he presses a small kiss to your lips before continuing, “we’ll video chat as often as possible. You’re mine now, ya hear?” 

You grin, “Yes, Hobi, and you’re mine too.” 

[writefightandflightclub]

Can I request a short little blurb of reader sitting in Santi's lap? Just something soft and sweet... I lovw your writing!!!

Thanks, Anon! You asked and I did my best to deliver! I wrote this quickly and I haven’t read it through as I have no patience (and also need to go to sleep shortly), so I hope it’s ok!

Summary: soft, fluffy blurb, about sitting in Santi’s lap and getting all the love in the world

Warnings: none, I don’t think.

GIF by @winterswake

Killing me softly

You are pacing. Pacing up and down the living room floor, mumbling to yourself.

“Baby, stop,” Santi begs from his perch on the couch. “Take a minute to destress, please?”

You cast a helpless glance towards him as you absent-mindedly chew on a fingernail, but even the steadiness of his gaze alone helps you to still, his big, brown eyes trained on you with nothing but love.

“You’re frazzled. But tomorrow is gonna go fine. Now come and sit on my lap and let me help you unwind, Princesa.”

You consider protesting, but he taps his palms on his firm thighs and your words die in your throat. There’s no world in which you can resist those thighs, in any context. And he knows it, too.

“That’s not fair, Garcia. You know all my weaknesses.”

“Is that such a bad thing? If it helps you relax I’m gonna use every weapon in my arsenal. I know my shit about weapons, baby, and I’m not afraid to use them.”

He taps his full thighs again and leans back into the sofa cushions, making his lap look as comfortable and appealing as possible, which, let’s be honest, isn’t hard to do.

“Fine,” you concede, gravitating towards him and sitting down sidewards on his lap, still a little tense and unyielding. Santi will soon fix that. He hooks one arm under both your legs and draws your knees up towards him, resting your feet on the couch. Then, he tugs your head gently down to nestle it into his chest.

Once you are curled into him and adequately settled atop his sturdy thighs, he wraps one arm between your legs, tugging the closest one into him, and the other hand winds through your hair as he rests his cheek against the top of your head.

You sigh contentedly as you relax into his embrace, your elbows folded and one palm pressing against his warm chest, his soft t-shirt beneath your fingertips, the fabric thin enough to feel his body heat through. Your hand idly wanders to the neck and to the sleeve of his t-shirt, your fingers playing at the hems where you seek out his smooth skin, just to have the feel of him under your hand.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Santi reassures, still softly stroking your hair, and the deep vibration of his voice reverberates from his chest where your head rests. You close your eyes at the reassuring sound, and, as you both still, the steady, sophorific sound of Santi’s heartbeat filters into the shell of your ear, just as the smell of him filters in with your breath. You remain there, head rising and falling with his chest as he breathes deeply.

Why didn’t you do this earlier, exactly? In no time at all, you can feel the tension begin to ebb away from your taut muscles. You can feel the coherent, racing worries slip away until your mind is simply full of him. Of feelings and sensations rather than words or tangible thoughts.

“Better, mi alma?” Santi asks in a gentle, soothing voice.

“Yes,” you concede, despite your usual stubborness and reluctance to admit he is right; even though sometimes, Santi knows what you need better than you do yourself.

After a few moments, Santi unwraps his right hand from around your thigh and clasps your hand delicately in his, bringing it to his lips to plant slow, gentle kisses over each of your knuckles in turn.

“I got you,” he repeats, and he wraps his left arm around you, slowly leaning you back so you can rest your head against the arm of the sofa. This allows you to look into each other’s eyes, and Santi’s eyes melt as he gazed down at you and tips your chin up ever so delicately with his index finger. His eyes say everything there are no words to vocalise, then his touch says the rest as he gently caresses your cheek and jaw with the pad of his thumb.

Then, he simply tugs you in close to him again, until you are surrounded in his sturdy circumference, the mass of him warm and strong and all around you.

Your worries have entirely melted away. In fact, you are overcome by something else entirely, and Santi, whose eyes are sweeping over your face and scanning for any sign of stress that he might eliminate, notices instantly that tears begin to ball in your eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey. No,” he soothes. “What is it? Don’t be sad.”

You sniff as the tears spill from your cheeks, spurred on through the softness in his eyes and voice alone. He really does love you, doesn’t he?

“Princesa, what is it?”

“Y-you’ll think I’m r-ridiculous,” you push out, feeling a little silly for getting so upset, but Santi does everything to put you at ease, reaching up to brush away your tears with the sweep of his rough finger.

“No,” he promises. “What is it?”

“I’m h-happy. This is m-my happy place, Santiago Garcia. Right here in your lap. I just love you so m-much I want to cry. I’m such a sap for you, you shithead.”

Santi’s eyes search yours and you could swear he even tears up too. He’s softer than a lot of his acquaintances and maybe even friends would ever dare to guess, this man.

“Cariño, you have no idea how happy you make me. Snuggling you on my lap? Este es mi cielo.”

You reach your hand up to press your palm to his cheek, the familiar brush of his stubble greeting you. His words inspire a fresh batch of happy tears to spill from your cheeks.

“Honey, you should really have these thighs and that silver tongue of yours seized. They’re lethal weapons, I swear. You’re killing me here.”

“Killing you softly?” Santi asks with a gently amused smirk.

Still, he tugs you close and holds you in his arms until your tears subside and until he’s sure that you feel entirely content. As he hugs you tightly, he continues to reassure you that he’s got you. And that he never wants to let you go.

What’s more, you believe him, and suddenly nothing else in the world matters, except being here with the man who is your happy place; with the man who makes you happier than you could ever have imagined being.

[serpentinesarang]

really happy

pairing: han (han jisung) x fem reader

genre: friends turned lovers, fluff turned smutty

word count: 666 (lol oops)

content warnings: clothed fondling

summary: hannie spontaneously admits his feelings for you one night while hanging out, and he’s a little too excited, so one thing leads to another...

korean key:

⦿ ne (네) = most common form of yes; pronounced “neh”

⦿ saranghae (사랑해) = I love you; pronounced “sah-rahng-eh”

⦿ chingu (친구) = friend, sometimes translates to friends depending on the context; pronounced “cheeng-goo”

⦿ nado (나도) = me too; pronounced “nah-doh”

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Saturday night. You’d invited your best friend Jisung over to your place to celebrate the boys’ new song release. Most of the others had schedules to finish while some were simply too tired to stay up late tonight, so it was just you and Hannie. 

While marathoning Frozen and Frozen II, you two had devoured a large pizza, too many cups of Coke, and now a round of chocolate cake. If anybody knows how hyper Jisung gets off of sugar, it’s you. But it’s okay because you love when he turns goofy and slaphappy, when he’s his most cheerful self.

The credits are rolling on the sequel film, and Jisung tosses his fork and paper plate atop the coffee table in front of you.

“Ugggh, I needed that,” he says loudly, flopping back against the couch.

Sitting cross-legged beside him, you ask, “Needed what?”

“Cake!” he replies joyfully as his eyes crinkle into cute crescent moons. “Pizza, Frozen... you,” he trails off, staring at the ceiling.

Caught off guard by his sweet comment, you grin. “Awww, Hannieee. I’m always here for you,” you say, patting his knee.

He lifts his head upright again and looks at you, letting out a tiny hiccup. “That’s why I love you. You’re always there when I need you.”

At that, you feel your heart rate shoot up, and you have to stop yourself from letting your expression reveal your surprise.

You remove your hand from his knee and pull your own knees to your chest,  not sure how to interpret his words. You’d be lying to yourself if you played it off like a platonic kind of love, and you know it. 

So you gulp hard and take a big breath before speaking. “Do you mean that, Sungie?”

In response, he simply blinks, still gazing at you. “Ne. It’s time I confess.”

Your heart now jumps into your throat, and this time, you can’t hold back your surprise.

“Saranghae,” he reiterates softly, bringing a hand to your knee and stroking it.

Without any more hesitation, you roll your weight onto the knee Jisung’s stroking and slide onto his lap, then you dig your arms beneath his back to hug him like a koala. 

And you two stay there for a moment, Jisung also wasting no time in wrapping his arms over your back with one hand resting on your neck.

“I didn’t want to ruin our friendship if I said it first,” you murmur quietly against his shoulder, taking in the scent of his slightly perfumed shirt.

You feel his thumb tenderly rubbing the side of your neck. “Chingu forever, Y/N. I can’t hide my feelings anymore. I’m happy with you,” Jisung says as he rests his cheek against your head.

You break into the world’s stupidest, ear-to-ear grin and squeeze his torso to yours a little harder. “Nado, Jisung. Saranghae.”

You hear him sigh while he lowers his other hand to your waist and grips it. “In fact, I’m really happy right now...”

As you process his words, their true meaning immediately hits you when he grinds his hips against your core. That kind of happy.

Your head flies off his shoulder and you pull off of him, instead placing your hands on his upper abs and boring your eyes into his. The urge to grind down on his very apparent boner is screaming at you, and instead of being a good girl, you decide to listen to it.

You grab one of his hands and carefully snake it beneath the stretchy waistband of your pajama shorts, bringing his palm over your newly wet pussy and slowly guiding it up and down.

“I’m really happy too, Sungie,” you say, letting your eyes soften with pleasure.

Jisung smirks and abruptly molds his palm deeper against your blossoming slit, curling his fingertips at your throbbing entrance.

“I’ve thought about this every night for the past year,” he says in a low tone before sitting up to mash his lips against yours.

[vesuvian-american-fics]

better with time. Ch 3

one hundred and seven years.

The year is what now? 850?! (AO3)

Words: 2192

The next morning, you were awoken early by a harsh kick to your cell’s rusted bars, dust dwindling down from the ceiling peppered your face as you were ripped from your dreamless sleep. Snapping your eyes open you sat up stiffly, your back aching from your new stubborn mattress. In front of you stood three imposing figures, Levi, Hange, and a taller man, blonde hair, blue eyes, thick eyebrows that sat atop a strong handsome face that screams, “I’m reliable you can count on me”. You found yourself anxious under his piercing gaze and oddly warm and generous smile.  

Sheepishly you smiled back at him and Hange, your gaze drifting right over the top of Levi’s head. You noticed his eyebrow raise suspiciously at your avoidant scan. He sucked his teeth before pulling out a seat for himself on the other side of the cell. Hange took a seat as well, while the new guy remained standing, further adding to his impressive aura. He oozed confidence and strength, something you hadn’t yet experienced in this magnitude. He had a strength about him not found in Levi or Hange, the strength of true leadership. Something about him just felt like you could follow him to the ends of the Earth if he asked, and you’d never regret such a decision. It was quite nerve wracking considering you knew nothing of him.  

“Hello. My name is Commander Erwin Smith.” His voice deep as you expected. You gave back a simple wave and looked to Hange to speak the words you couldn’t.  

“Ah, as you remember Commander, she has very little memory.” They explained, much to your relief. So, the Commander had a bit of a debriefing, that’s good. Saves you all some time.  

“Yes, well. We’re just about caught up on your situation miss, let me get you up to date. For starters, the year is 850. Does that happen to help you recall how long you were a titan?” He asked, a more serious concerned look to his features now. Thick brows knitted together in concentration and his sky-blue orbs piercing through you so fiercely you feared he could see through your clothes.  

But no, more importantly, did he say the year was 850? If there was one simple thing you remembered from the past it was the year. There was no way of continuously keeping time for so long out in the wilderness but you hadn’t imagined it would have been 107 years! Your eyes blew wide in confusion and fear, lips slightly parted as your mind worked to wrap around the news that you were a titan for over a century.  

The three of them seemed to pick up on your prickling anxiety and simultaneously they leaned in, anticipated anything. Shakily, you pointed towards the notepad and pen in Hange’s lap and they quickly slid it across the floor to you.  

Blinded by tears and dread, you struggled to sloppily write a number. The last year you remember. The year 743. It took Hange no time to decipher your chicken scratch and they mumbled under their breath their hypothesis.  

“Is 743 the year you were born?!” They stammered, and you shook your head wearily in response.  

“The last year you remember?” Erwin asked plainly, and you nodded solemnly. Levi’s steely grey eyes widened just a fraction before regaining his composure and returning to his usual bored look. His trained eyes raked over your face studying your expression, shock, sadness, confusion. You hadn’t a clue how you’re alive right now.  

“107 years.” Levi stated, lacking any form or emotion. It was like he was simply echoing your thoughts for everyone to hear, and it's true. It has been 107 years. You honestly felt a bit sick at the realization but, what did you expect. You knew a lot of time had passed, too much time to be honest. However, the reality was nevertheless horrifying. More than a few lifetimes had passed, anyone you may have ever loved was long gone by now, not that you’d even remember them truly.  

You heaved a shaky, trembling sigh and Erwin gave a sad, knowing smile to you. It was sort of comforting, but you were on edge still.  

“Anything else you remember?” He asked, full of patience. You shook your head after a bit of thinking, nothing important was coming to mind. Just bits and flashes of things that you yourself couldn’t even begin to explain. Seemingly done with the questioning for now, Erwin bid you ado and Hange followed close behind.  

Captain Levi however, stood back for just a bit, much to your chagrin. You wanted nothing more than to be left alone for a moment to process things. If anybody were to stay behind a bit to ogle, you’d hope it were Hange, they could probably give you a laugh or two. Levi said nothing before tossing a book to the floor before your feet, you shot him an annoyed glare before he spoke.  

“Practice your reading brat,” was all he said before he quietly climbed the stairs and locked the door at the top. Grabbing the book and dusting it off you found it had plenty of pictures for context, and at the very least it would give you something to busy yourself with as your tried to distract yourself from your newly acquainted grief.  

It felt a bit like survivor’s guilt, not that you personally remembered any of the other titans you often saw roaming around the island. You silently sighed as you thought of the other titans, you felt bad. They were all humans, you presume, stuck in your same predicament. Fighting and dreaming of freedom.  

The hours passed as you tried to read the words on the pages set before you. You found yourself not making much progress as you continuously had to wipe away your stinging tears from your lashes. Heavy steps descended the stairs as you hastily dried your eyes once more, hoping it won’t be too obvious that you’ve been crying.  

It was Erwin again, shadowed by Levi. Levi’s thin brow rose, he almost looked disgusted at your tears, or maybe he was taking pity. Either one, you didn’t truly want from the likes of him. Erwin, however, did look truly concerned for just a moment before hardening his expression to keep things professional.  

“Well, we won’t be able to learn anything from you until you learn to read and write. Thus, you’ll be staying here for the time being. I’ll visit periodically, but Captain Levi will be who you answer to for now.” He gave you a curt nod before taking his leave. Once again, Levi remained. The silence dragged on and you gave him a silent, yet fully exasperated sigh rolling your eyes in his direction.  

He scoffed before adjusting his cravat, his top lip twitching upward into a scowl of disdain.  

“I was about to pity you and be lenient, but forget it. Stop your crying and read, brat!” He spat, before sitting harshly onto the wooden chair he always claimed, He folded his arms over his chest and crossed his slender legs, one over the other. The two of you held each other’s gaze for a moment before you turned around harshly and began studying.  

With him babysitting you like this; it’s going to be a lot less pleasant. Hopefully it won't take you very long to relearn these skills, the faster you can distance yourself from this guy.  

<3

The hours stretched on in a deafening silence. The tension in the air was palpable and you hated it. Levi’s stern glare seemed to be burning holes in the back of your head, that made it hard to concentrate. How could he demand results whilst simultaneously making it so hard for you? He was difficult to put it nicely, but raging will do nothing to make your life more pleasant. The silence was suddenly interrupted by him, making you jump.  

“The Commander is really sticking his neck out for you. I don’t understand why.” He said, his irritation evident in every word that spilled past his lips. Your shoulders slumped at his words. Were you truly making their lives so hard? This wasn’t something you wanted. He waited a few beats before continuing, and icy chill to his tone.  

“I for one don’t trust you, if you can’t tell. You can warm up to Hange and Erwin all you want, but there's a reason I’m the one that’s in control here.” You shook your head slowly at his words, you’re not dumb. It’s clear as day he doesn’t trust you, and you don’t think the others completely trust you either and you understand their reasoning. At the very least, they try to see things from your perspective. Levi, however, seems like the type to enjoy a stick up the ass.  

“I’m watching you, because I won’t hesitate to kill you if you try anything.” He said, cocking his head to the side to attempt to see your expression. Sweat was beading at your brows, and you muscles tensed on reflex. You lived in fear before, but you still didn’t know how to cope with it. Will you ever be happy again?  

Slowly, you turned around to face Levi, eyes gleaming with fresh tears. Doing your best to ignore his words you decided to return the attention to your book. You wiped away at your eyes before you steeled your nerves to approach the man, pointing to a particularly confusing image on the page before you. He quirked his brow at the page, his eyes narrowing before he gliding up to meet your own. He held your stare for a moment, as if trying to scare you away but he quickly grew tired of the effort.  

“Those are the three walls that protect humanity from you titans.” Your eyes locked again briefly, before he continued his explanation. He was an insufferable human being but very smart, you had to admit. He explained everything thoroughly without missing a thing and you found the walls fascinated.  

“Is that all or do I have to read the entire book to you, brat?” He complained, bringing his tea cup to his lips. You gave him a short and obviously fake smile before rolling your eyes and returning to your bed, once again facing your back towards him as you studied the picture once more. Little did you know, Levi’s lips quirked up into a microscopic smirk behind his tea cup at your attitude. Though, even to himself he couldn’t admit that you were a little funny to watch sometimes.  

Sighing, Levi checked his pocket watch, it was due time for afternoon training. He lazily tossed a clean notepad and quill pen into your cell.  

“Practice your piss poor writing too brat.” He said, cup still held high up to his face before he downed the rest of his tea and you were left alone in the cellar once again.  

Once you were sure he was gone, you stuck out your tongue in childish protest before grabbing the notepad and pen. Scribbling and drawing ought to be more fun than reading this textbook you figured. The rest of your evening was spent in silence, until Hange brought you a late lunch with tea. She kept you company for a while, and it was something that helped to ease your anxiety. She explained in more detail what was planned for you here within the walls, and it's true, Erwin really was sticking his neck out for you, all of them were.  

Keeping you a secret from just about everybody in power until you could speak for yourself in a court of law. Your time with the Scouts would remain a secret even after then to keep from anyone getting in trouble. Seems the Scout’s get in enough trouble already, and housing a titan shifter for a second time would get them in a lot of trouble. Yet, for your own safety, they would put everything off until you could defend yourself properly, for that, you were eternally grateful and you wanted to thank him in person.  

Maybe even thank Levi, because, whether he wanted to or not, he was putting his own credibility on the line for you. As much as you dislike the man, you won't let his efforts go unappreciated. You thanked Hange for the food, conversation, and their protection with a bow, they simply waved you off.  

“It's no matter! There’s equal benefit for you, me, and humanity!” They exclaimed before marching up the stairs and heading off to handle reports. You smiled to yourself at their hospitality and friendliness. Today was a tough day, but a necessary one.  

This was your second chance at life, one you had lost hope at ever having. You weren’t going to waste it on fear, anxiety, and self-doubt. With newly found resolve, you drifted off into an early slumber, unaware of Captain Levi’s light foot falls descending the stair case.  

His dark eyes sliding to your sleeping form, having Hange talk to you was a good idea after all .