#give him a friend.... take him places.......... they could have fun.... :(

[honeyhotteoks]

₊ ⊹ ⟡ too hot to handle (송민기 ♡ s.mg)

your neighbor has more to give than you bargained for.

style: bullet drabble pairing: non idol!mingi x fem!reader word count: 1.8k tags/warnings: smut, pwp, light fluff, neighbor!mingi, fem!reader, big dick, like monster cock level she can't do anything with it, sub!mingi, like super sub, dom!reader, teasing, praise, heavy use of good boy/perfect boy etc., makeouts, grinding, oral f!receiving, face riding, lots of dirty talk, dick on clit action, controlled orgasms, edging and overstim, eventual piv notes: this has been on the brain for longer than i could ever tell you so hopefully it's a fun one x

[masterlist]

The problem with your neighbor isn’t that he’s hot. It isn’t that he’s funny and charming, and it definitely isn’t the crush bubbling between the both of you. Those would be normal problems, problems you tell your best friends about. 

The problem with your neighbor is that his dick is too big. 

You find that out at the same time you find out this giant who lives next door to you with the deep voice and a penchant for calling you “pretty girl” is actually not the dominant you assumed he would be.

Mingi is actually shockingly, surprisingly submissive. 

And you shockingly, surprisingly, love that more than you ever could have guessed. 

You figure that out while you’re straddling him on the couch, and when you roll your hips just right you feel the impressive hardness of him and hear the neediest whimper you’ve ever heard from a man at the exact same time. 

It takes you thirty minutes more of making out and shedding clothes for you to get a good look at his cock, and when you do it grinds the whole almost-fuck to a stop.

And -

“I know,” He breathes, his eyes softening, “it’s okay if you don’t want to keep going.” 

You blink at him, unable to hide the trepidation in your eyes, “It’s not that I don’t want to try,” 

“It’s okay,” He sounds dejected, but also like this has happened to him before and that fills you with nothing but sharp determination. 

“Hang on,” You lay a hand over his bare chest, still straddling his lap, the impressive length and girth of his cock standing between you. 

“Listen,” He sighs, “I get it,” 

“Mingi,” You interrupt him, “I’m not kicking you out,” 

“You’re not?” His eyebrows raise. 

“No,” You smile, “I do think we should maybe… work up to things,” 

“Of course,” He rushes to agree, his hands sliding up and down your bare thighs. 

“It’s just,” You grimace, “I haven’t had sex in a long time, like a really long, kind of embarrassing amount of time,” 

“That’s okay,” He soothes. 

“I’d be lying if I said I thought I could take you,” You sigh, “but Mingi, I’d really, really like to work up to it,” 

“Yeah?” He grins like he just won the lottery. 

“Uh-huh,” You swallow a little nervously, “just maybe not tonight?” 

“Right,” He nods, “anything you want,” 

“Is that okay?” You check, sliding closer to him, his bare cock brushing against your abdomen. 

“Okay?” He nods, “Of course, it’s… I mean, I like you. I want to do whatever you want, that’s what I want,” 

He’s a little flustered, still walking a nervous line like you might change your mind, or he’s worried about coming on too strong, and you take him in for a moment. 

Somewhere inside, you find the boldness to ask the question you’ve wanted to ask since you heard his first whimpered moan, “Mingi,” You murmur, “is that what you’re into? Doing what I want?”

His eyes flick over your face, but you don’t miss the way they darken up at the idea and he nods, “If you’re into that,” he says, “but I can take over if you need me to,” 

You wonder how many girls have begged him to be more dominant. How many girls have pushed him to go to a place that isn’t entirely comfortable for him, when he clearly wants the opposite. 

“I’m into that,” You tell him, “don’t worry,” 

You both click together like kinky little puzzle pieces, and despite the fact that you’ve never had his dick properly inside you, you’ve been having sex for weeks. 

You get creative. 

Mingi and his giant cock seem to love nothing more than making you feel good, especially when you use his big body to get yourself off. 

The first few times you hook up it’s the basics, getting to know each other, getting to know each other's bodies and what makes each other tick… but by the fourth time? The fifth? 

The fourth time you’re a horny mess, probably a breath away from ovulating and ready to climb his tall ass like a tree, and so all the hesitation you’ve had about being too much for each other flies right out the window. 

With him pinned to your bed you ride his thigh like it’s a pillow, barely looking at him as you get yourself off, and when you’re done all he can do is beg you to do that again, but on his face. 

He whimpers when his tongue first slips inside your folds, when he feels the weight of your body sink onto him. His hands grip your ass and between sucks and moans he begs you to ride him, to fuck his face and never stop. 

With your hands on the headboard you take it just like before, eyes closed, head thrown back, your moans spilling out into the room . 

He comes untouched that time, ropes and ropes of his hot cum painting his chest and stomach, panting apologies into your thighs, and that’s when everything changes. 

Now you tell him when to come. How to come. Where to come. 

You discover that he loves to be edged and you love to be overstimulated. 

A perfect combination of opposites. 

You make him beg for things, ache for things, his cock leaking against your lips as he whines. 

“Please, please, just a taste, just a lick, please, god, please,” 

And sometimes you let him have it, but most of the time you don’t. 

He seems to like that even more. 

Mingi and his big cock have found so many other ways to get off that you almost never want to give into having him inside you, because what if your dynamic changes? The anticipation is the delicious part, the denial, the almost-almosts. 

The way he begs when he’s on his knees between your splayed thighs, his shaft rubbing against your slick folds, sliding over your clit - that’s when you almost break. 

“You f-feel so good,” He shudders, thrusting his hips slowly back and forth so that his cock slides up and down your aching center. 

“Mm,” You sigh, relaxing into the mattress, “good boy,” 

His cock twitches at that, “Thank you, thank you,” 

“Go faster, baby,” You beckon him down with a come-hither motion, “fuck me like you mean it,” 

He freezes, “I-inside?” 

“Did I say inside?” You counter. 

“No, no, of course, I’m sorry,” He stumbles past that assumption and shakes his head, a pink blush spreading across his cheeks. 

You nod, a silent push to get him to move faster, and he scrambles to comply. 

He braces himself over your spread form on the bed, your hips slotting more tightly together, and then he braces his forearms on either side of you and starts to thrust. 

“Faster,” 

His hips speedup. 

Every brush of his shaft over your swollen clit makes you want to writhe and moan beneath him, but keeping control is the fun part for him, so you stay focused. 

“That’s it, baby,” You brush your fingers through his shaggy locks, “such a good boy,” 

He moans, but keeps the pace. 

“Mm,” You sigh through an almost moan, “baby, your cock feels so good inside me,” 

His hips jerk, a stammered groan on his lips. 

The tease was meant for him, a reminder of where his cock isn’t, but heat spreads through your belly at the idea of what he might feel stretching you open for real. 

“Say it,” You open your legs wider, angling your hips to get the sensation right. 

“Your pussy feels so good,” He pants. 

“Don’t stop,” You direct him again. 

“So tight,” He whines, “so wet,” 

“More, baby.” 

“S-so perfect,” He shudders, his eyes tightly closed, “thank you for l-letting me fuck you,” 

“Oh,” You murmur warmly, “that’s my good boy.” 

He chokes, his thrusts getting harder, a relentless rut of his wet cock against your dripping pussy and you bite down on your tongue at the impulse to beg him to fuck you for real. You’re dizzy, orgasm drunk, and your nails dig into his hips to hold yourself steady. 

“Please,” He pants suddenly, eyes flashing open to find yours, “please, may I come?” 

You’re too close for that, “Hold it, baby,” 

His expression tightens in tense control, “P-please,”

“I’m close,” You tell him, “hold it,”

Tears prick at his eyes and you feel the wet string of his precum on your belly, but he listens. 

A moan pulls free from your chest then, your pleasure fast approaching, and you breathe in hot fits and starts. 

“Come on my cock,” He begs, pleads, “I’m so good for you,” 

Your orgasm crashes into you sideways, the relentless stroke over your clit sending you into pleasured little shakes. 

“Please, I c-can’t, I can’t hold it,” He fists the sheets, his voice a thready wet pant. 

“Come,” You give him all the permission he needs, “come inside me, baby, fill me up,” 

He shudders, thrusting hard twice more, and with groaning moans he spills his release all across your belly, spattering you both in hot cum. 

He’s shaking, trembling, but you run your fingers through his hair and soothe him soft like always. He’s your good boy, your perfect boy, your most obedient boy. 

In the aftermath, when you both come down from your messy, full body pleasure, you find each other in the sheets. 

With kisses across his knuckles you nuzzle into him. 

“Next time, I want you for real,” 

He’s hesitant at first, but you’re ready, you’re sure. 

The next time, you play softer. You’ve learned each other so well, but this time it’s your turn to be vulnerable with your body and he doesn’t let you down for a second. 

It’s a slow process, full of sweetness and foreplay. He’s learned how to make your body sing over weeks and weeks of hookups, and he knows he can make you wet enough, relaxed enough to take him. 

The stretch is achingly delicious. 

And once he’s finally inside you for the first time, your bodies connected in every possible way, you realize he was worth the wait. 

And you fit together in more ways than one. 

As it turns out, your boyfriend’s big dick isn’t such a problem after all. 

[bahablastplz]

Battleground: Minho x Reader

Prompt: "Hii, i was wondering in you could write a one shot of alpha!minho x Alpha!afab. They met through their friend/roommate Jisung who is an omega, and they are enemies and Jisung has to break up their fights, but this one time they end up having sex while fighting for dominance." Content: Smut, angst, omegaverse, enemies to lovers, switch/dom Minho, switch reader, alpha reader/alpha Minho, afab!reader WC: 5000 Note: hi yes I got carried away with this but this was super fun to write. enjoy!

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You should have never trusted Jisung. This is often a motto of yours, actually, seeing as he’s responsible for nine out of every ten instances of trouble you find yourself in. But he has big pleading eyes and he can be so convincing that you throw caution to the wind every time he speaks. 

You needed a new roommate. Your old one bailed on you (thank god, because she was actually the worst). She was filthy and never cleaned up after herself. She left dishes in the sink, piles of trash for you to take care of, and was blatantly rude. You let out a sigh of relief when she told you she was moving and it took all of two days for her to fuck off for no apparent reason. She left your life as violently as she entered it, however, leaving piles and piles of her junk for you to take care of as well as half of the rent once again. 

You wish that you could lie and say that you could afford it by yourself but you simply couldn’t. It was just too far out of your spending limits and so… you needed to find a new place to live. 

When Jisung suggested you come to live in his spare bedroom, it really didn’t seem like that bad of an idea. You knew the omega well enough; he wasn’t the cleanest in the world but he’s a step up from your old roommate for sure. Plus he was one of your closest friends. If anything, you knew you would feel comfortable around him. The only reason you had hesitated at first is because everybody always tells you not to live with your friends. Somehow you doubted this would be an issue with Jisung though. 

It would be fine, right? You’ve heard only good things about his other roommate, Minho. Jisung jokingly refers to him as his platonic soulmate sometimes but you don’t really know anything else about him. You were a little weary about sharing a living space with two omegas and all, being an alpha yourself, but you were no asshole alpha. They would have nothing to worry about. 

Once again, you should have never trusted Han Jisung. 

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“What are you doing? You’re going to scare her away!” You hear through the door of the apartment. You’re a little unsure when you hear muffled shouting and you feel an uneasiness in your stomach that you ignore but you can’t help to continue to listen. “Why are you acting like you don’t want her here?” 

“Because I don’t. We don’t know her!”

“You don’t know her. I know her perfectly well and you should trust my judgment.” You use this as the opportunity to knock on the door which swings open to a wide-eyed Jisung. He looks guilty of something and you’re confused before it hits you all at once. 

The apartment reeks of cinnamon. Every crevice and corner is dripping of the strong smell to the point you can hardly smell Jisung’s vanilla, even if you really focus. That’s when you come to the realization that Jisung’s roommate isn’t an omega… He’s an alpha. One intentionally covering the whole apartment with his smell before he even gets to know you to assert his dominance. You fight back the urge to roll your eyes at the stereotypical alpha behavior and you resist the urge to cover your nose at the smell. Just because Minho is being rude doesn’t mean you need to be rude in return. 

And before you can even say anything to greet him, he’s walking away and slamming his door shut. You give Jisung a look and he’s already looking at you apologetically. 

“I’m sorry,” he winces. “I really am. He’s not usually like this, I swear. I don’t know what’s going on–” 

“Jisung,” you interrupt. “You never told me he was an alpha in the first place!” 

His mouth opens slightly in a small ‘o’ shape. “I didn’t?” 

You sigh at him and take a deep breath. “Just help me with these boxes, okay?” And as if he’s eager to be back on your good side, he helps you without a fuss. 

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It’s two entire days before you even see Minho again. It agitates your own alpha, really, knowing that there’s someone else in your living space you haven’t gotten a proper chance to meet and scope out. But you’ve finally gotten yourself settled into your space and you have to admit it’s nice being so close to Jisung all the time. 

You stumble out of your room after an afternoon nap to find him cooking in the kitchen. It takes you by surprise, honestly, because for someone who has already tried to be so stereotypically alpha, it just seems like a very… omegan activity. You tell yourself it’s not polite to pass judgments on someone you hardly know, especially regarding their secondary gender, so you don’t say a word about it. You do, however, make an attempt to properly introduce yourself.

“Hello,” you say lightly. Minho’s shoulders tense up for a second before they relax. “I’m Y/N.” He doesn’t turn around and he doesn’t say anything. You make a face from behind him, where he can’t see you. What is his deal? You lean against the wall, trying to think of a way to make conversation. If this were anybody else, you wouldn’t bother but… you’re doing this for Jisung, after all. This is supposed to be one of his closest friends aside from you. “How long have you known Jisung for?” you try. 

“Longer than you,” he scoffs. This catches you off guard as you’re not quite sure what to make of the statement. Is he trying to be possessive over the omega or is he just trying to show you that he’s winning whatever competition this is? 

“Oh. How long would that be? I’ve only known him for two years or so, but we’ve grown really close–” Minho finally spins around and you make eye contact for the first time. His harsh gaze is the first thing you really notice about him, his feline eyes sharp as they stare daggers into you. He’s very pretty, you note, and it almost pisses you off even more. How can someone so attractive be such an asshole? 

“You’re not my friend,” he says, pointing a wooden spoon at you threateningly. “This was my space first and you have no right to intrude and try to be buddy-buddy with me. I don’t know you.” His words are blunt, to the point. He turns back around and… god, he’s trying to assert dominance again by shutting you up and ending the conversation here! Better yet, his cinnamon scent spikes and swirls around the room, haunting you. 

You won’t retaliate with your own scent. You’re better than that. But that doesn’t mean you’ll let some alpha think he’s better than you and shut you up without a fight. “Who’s fault is that?” you spit. Minho freezes so you continue. “Who’s fault is it that you don’t know me, hmm? I never asked to be your friend, Minho. But I’m not here to intrude and I’m not here to take over your territory and become the new head-alpha, okay? I’m here because Jisung invited me. I’m here because I need a place to live! Is it really so fucking bad to think that maybe you can be civil with me? Instead you’ve been defensive since the second I walked through that door!” Your anger is spiking and you need to get control of yourself before you explode on him. You turn around and slam your door shut before you can say anymore. 

Once on your bed you fight the urge to punch something. You certainly let yourself get riled up fast. It annoys you that someone you don’t even know has this sort of effect on you. But you close your eyes and will the anger away, telling yourself that maybe, just maybe, it’ll get better. 

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It doesn’t get better. It gets a whole lot worse, actually. Your first movie-night in with Jisung you actually get nauseous with how much he reeks of Minho. 

“Jesus, Sung,” you tell him. “It smells like you rolled around with him right before you came into my room.” 

“Sorry,” he says apologetically. It’s so hard to be mad at him. It really is. “He’s been extra clingy lately for some reason.” 

“For some reason,” you grumble. You know exactly why. “He’s trying to intimidate me to stay away from you, probably.” 

“What? Minho would never do that!” he says. You glare at him and he cowers down immediately. “I don’t know what’s going on with him,” he admits. 

“I’m tired of him making me feel like I’m the crazy one here! Everyone I talk to shoots praises out of their ass for him and meanwhile, I’m public enemy number one. I seriously don’t know what his issue is with me and I’m getting sick and tired of everyone telling me what a great person he is!” you rant rather loudly, ending with a great sigh. 

“Have you tried talking to him?” Jisung asks. You feel like you’re going to explode. 

“Yes, I have,” you tell him. “Multiple times. Each one ends in an argument or one of us storming off. I just can’t figure out what his deal is.” 

“Maybe–” 

“Sung, let’s just watch the movie, okay? I’m starting to get irritated and you’re not the one I’m upset with.” 

He concedes and snuggles in a bit closer to you, pressing play on the laptop. If you discreetly try to cover him in your own ginger scent? That’s between you and the moon goddess. 

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You find yourself in the midst of some sort of war and you’re on the losing side. Lee Minho has made it his life mission to inconvenience or irritate you in any way he can. 

Exhibit A: One morning you find yourself running late for class and you open your door just to trip over a conveniently placed pile of his shoes. Cursing his name in your head, you grab your backpack and run out the front door, just narrowly making it in time for the professor to start talking. Fast forward to the end of class when you pull out your folder just to realize that said folder is nowhere to be seen. Your homework which you spent over an hour on the previous night has vanished, gaining you a zero on the assignment. You’re sure you’re seeing red when you get home and your folder is on the kitchen counter.  

“I don’t know what game you think we’re playing, but sabotaging my grades is going too fucking far, Lee!” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says as he sips on a cup of coffee. You fight the urge to throw it in his face. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t try to make me late for class and hide my folder!” you say, waving the folder in his face. He looks irritated but it’s no match for how you feel. 

“Your belongings are not my responsibility,” he says with an eye roll. “Next time maybe don’t misplace your stuff.” You leave because you’re not confident in your ability not to punch him. 

Exhibit B: Poor Jisung has tried to set up an apartment movie night. It’s a good idea, in theory, to try to get some supervised bonding. Jisung even sits right in the middle, anxiously picking at his nails the entire movie. That’s only after Minho accuses you of burning the popcorn and fighting with you over which movie to watch. Jisung ends up picking it. It was going well until he stretched his legs out over Jisung’s lap and into your space. You shove his feet off of you faster than he put them up. The action makes him almost fall off the couch and spill his soda all over himself and Jisung. 

The omega stands up covered in soda and huffs. “I give up!” he cries out in exasperation. 

“It’s her fault for pushing me–” 

“Give it a fucking rest!” you cry out. 

Everybody ends up in their respective rooms that night. 

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 You didn’t want to go to this party. You really didn’t but you figured that you owe Jisung big time for turning his apartment into a warzone. The omega already has social anxiety and doesn’t love parties himself so you promised you would tag along. 

Minho is here too. You tell yourself you won’t interact with him but you keep catching his eyes from across the room. Deep down you hope that maybe the alcohol will mellow him down a bit and make him more tolerable. And maybe you use alcohol as a coping mechanism this one night. You’re stressed and a walking ball of tension every second of each day, not even able to relax in your own apartment. 

You always have an eye on Jisung when you party together. But you indulge in some tipsy flirting for once. This guy is super cute, after all… freckled face, long blond hair that frames his face, and a deep, sensual voice that makes you giggle and fawn over him. You amp up the usual techniques, touching his arm and laughing at all of his jokes. And when he leans in close enough that you feel his breath on your neck you don’t stop him. 

But somebody else does. 

One second you're bracing yourself for a drunken kiss and the next a hand is wrapped tightly around your arm, pulling you away. You smell burnt cinnamon before you even realize what happened and the anger that bubbles in your chest is unlike any you’ve ever felt before. You retaliate just as fast with an overwhelming mix of ginger that smells so strong it burns your nose. Before you can yell you’re being pushed out the door and into the cold of the night. 

“What the fuck was that,” you spit at Minho. You yank your arm out of his grip. 

“We’re leaving,” he tells you. 

“Like hell we are! You don’t get a say of who I spend my time with or when I decide to leave.” 

“I get a say when you’re making idiotic choices,” he answers, voice low. He spins you around until you’re pinned against the wall and his skin burns hot against yours. 

“No, you don’t. You’ve made yourself loud and clear that you don’t give a fuck about me. My bad choices are mine to make, Minho, not yours.” 

“You’re not thinking straight,” he tells you once he finally lets go. He looks like he’s trying to convince himself more than you. “Felix… he’s… I know him from my dance studio, okay? Just.. trust me and don’t go home with him. You can’t kiss him. Not Felix.”

“From your dance studio? Wow, ladies and gentlemen! Lee Minho has revealed exactly one thing about himself! He’s a dancer!” you say with mock surprise. You stumble a bit and Minho steadies you by your waist. It only serves to piss you off even more. 

“Let’s go home, yeah?” he asks. It’s probably the softest you’ve ever heard his voice yet. 

“No. I think I’m going to go kiss Felix and you can go fuck off,” you protest. You cross your arms and you look away from him because his cheeks are also flushed from drinking and he worries his lips between his teeth so you can’t stand to see it. 

He takes a deep breath. “Y/N, I swear to god you’re going to walk home with me or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and bring you home myself.”

Before you snap back at him about how ridiculous he’s being, the door opens and Jisung steps out. “Guys?” he questions, looking back and forth between the two of you. You’re breathing heavily and your fists are clenched but your anger dissipates the second you see the disappointed look on Jisung’s face. He wanted you here to keep him company. To soothe his social anxiety and to prove that you could be there for him, to show up for him like old time’s sake. And just like that, the adrenaline high slowly fades when you realize you’ve let him down. Anger turns to sorrow and guilt and god, no you won’t let Minho see you cry but you bury your face into Jisung’s neck. You whisper an apology and tell him you want to go home. 

You can’t help but feel like Minho has won this round, in some roundabout twisted way. 

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You avoid leaving your room for the next day. You don’t really feel like you’re deserving of wallowing in your own sorrow, especially since the one who is impacted here is Jisung, not you. You’ve let him down. You don’t get to mope. So… what you’re doing is avoiding. Avoiding Minho and therefore avoiding any more conflict. 

It’s the next day you leave your room. You notice the scent of vanilla a little more sweet than normal and when you knock on Jisung’s door you notice he’s nesting. A mixture of your clothes and Minho’s are piled in his bed and you feel a pang of guilt in your chest. 

“You okay?” you ask. If Jisung is in preheat and you’ve avoided him for the past 24 hours, he’s probably feeling pretty antsy. He does let out a breath of relief when he sees you though and brings you in for a hug. 

But of course your timing is unfortunate because Minho unlocks the front door at that very moment. When he sees you in Jisung’s arms he growls, causing you and the omega to stiffen. Minho crosses the room in seconds and the smell of cinnamon behind you gets stronger. 

“Off,” he says low into your ear. You have half the mind to snap at him but Jisung’s vanilla scent burns. You back off, giving Jisung a small nod before disappearing to your room. The last thing you want to do is distress Jisung further just before he starts his heat. This needs to stop. It needs to end. 

Jisung leaves the next day to spend his heat in a hotel. Despite the apartment being more comfortable for him, the unit isn’t equipped to deal with the overwhelming scent of heats and ruts. You couldn’t afford a scent complaint fee. Jisung doesn’t complain as you help him pack his bags and you even help him into the hotel room. You offer your best support in helping him rebuild his nest though you don’t have the same omegan instincts as he does. 

“I’m sorry again,” you tell him before you leave. “For everything. With Minho. It’s… we’ll work it out. Okay? Love you Sung.” 

He gives you a sad smile. His heat should start by the morning, you would guess. You just hope he can be comfortable and not worry too much about you and Minho. 

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Minho is standing anxiously by the door when you get home. You half expect him to crowd you against the wall but he doesn’t, eyes glued to the floor instead. 

“You smell like him,” he tells you. 

“Yes Minho,” you reply sarcastically. “It’s like I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time. Jisung is my friend too. You don’t have to act all possessive of him all the time.” 

He hums. You feel your blood boil again. How does he get you so worked up to the point of your heart pumping a mile a minute every time you see him? 

“Minho. Be honest,” you start. He finally looks up at you. You can’t read his face. Your alpha goes back and forth between wanting to pounce on him and run away in fear. You need to do what you think is right. “Do you want me to move out?” 

You aren’t expecting his reaction. You expect him to laugh in your face. You expect him to be overjoyed. But instead he seems shocked. 

“What?” 

“What do you mean what? Don’t act like this isn’t what you wanted from the very beginning. You win, okay? I concede. You want your space? You want to be the only alpha again? This is it. This is your opportunity. I’m offering you a way out now. No more fighting. No more upsetting Jisung. If you want me gone, just say the word. Please. I’ll leave.” 

“Don’t.” 

“What?” You almost think you’ve misheard him but he takes a step closer and he looks at you with pleading eyes. “What is your gameplan then? Why make me miserable since the second I move in? Argue with me, tell me who I can and can’t kiss, for god’s sake make me fail a fucking assignment? If you don’t want me fucking gone, Minho, what the fuck do you want–” 

You’re cut off by his lips clashing against yours so hard your head would have hit your head against the wall if not for Minho’s hands holding you as if you’re something precious. Your teeth clank together but you’re breathing him in and reciprocating his affection just as violently as he gives it. When his tongue enters your mouth and you taste cinnamon you realize you’ve never hated the smell, never hated him… He kisses into you like he needs you to breathe, like he’s been in the desert and you’re his oasis. 

You’re not sure that a kiss has ever felt like this before. You think for a moment that you might not be able to kiss anyone again after this, everyone and everything lacklustre compared to Minho. Minho. Minho. Nobody has ever and will ever make you feel this burning, boiling… hatred? lust? desire? Whatever it is you feel, you’re not sure it could be replicated. 

When you wrap your leg around his waist he grabs under your knee, hoisting you against the wall. His mouth is all over you and he explores every inch of your mouth, your neck, your collarbone. Your hands take purchase on his shoulders, in his hair, you’re not sure but you want to feel every inch of him there is to explore. Cinnamon has never smelled so sweet.

Minho brings you into his bedroom and it’s the first time you’ve stepped foot into his space but you don’t take the time to look around. In fact, the only thing you notice is that his comforter is soft, soft against your back as he throws you onto his bed. Your clothes are all but shredded from your body and if you had claws you would have used them to get every inch of useless fabric off of Lee Minho’s body. It makes you angry that he’s still clothed, so angry that you forgo pleasure in replacement of ripping the clothes off of him harshly. He grins. He has that smug fucking grin on his face you want to wipe off and you kiss his stupid lips again. This time when you kiss you’re both completely naked and every part of your body that touches his is scalding. 

When you sit on his lap your bare pussy slides along his cock and you both groan. His hands are on your hips and in desperation you both move back and forth. Every time his cock catches on your entrance you both let out a hitched breath but neither of you can stop. 

“Fuck. I’m gonna knot you, you know that? I’m gonna fuck you so full and then knot you so that everybody knows you’re mine,” he pants as he ruts his cock against you desperately. Is this just another way for him to stake his claim over you? To show that he’s the true alpha? Oh hell no.

“You’re such an asshole,” you tell him with a hiss when he finally slides into you. He’s big. You already knew this from the (not so) dry humping just moments ago but it still pisses you off when he stretches you nice and full. “Stupid asshole alpha with a stupid big cock.” 

When he looks up at you it’s with adoration and it throws you off. His eyes gleam and his teeth are caught against his bottom lip in a sultry grin. He plants his feet against his bed and thrusts up into you hard and fast–you almost fall because you have no time to plant your hands anywhere for balance. But the almighty perfect Minho catches you before you fall because of course he does. His hands on your waist only hold you in place to give him the opportunity to fuck up into you with more force and the wet sounds that come from between your bodies are filthy… but only serves to turn you on even more. 

“You were saying about me being an asshole?” he asks. His voice is breathy and low and you fucking hate how much you love it. 

“If all you wanted was to fuck me this bad you didn’t have to act like such a dick,” you say through tight lips. Okay. You’re trying not to moan, to give him that satisfaction. Who could blame you? “You only made me hate you more.” 

“Fuck,” he says, throwing his head back. “It wasn’t on purpose… didn’t like you at first but all of a sudden it turned to lust and… can’t you feel what you do to me?” He punctuates his point with a harsh thrust and fuck, you vaguely remember him mentioning he was a dancer. Perfect body, perfect hips and thighs made just to fuck you like this. 

“How you treated me wasn’t fair,” you tell him. You need him to know and you’re lowering your hips, trapping your legs under his so he can’t bounce you up and down on his cock anymore. Your hand snakes up to his throat and takes purchase there, watching the way he gulps and his eyes turn heavy at the action. You feel a burning satisfaction at the way his hips buck into you involuntarily when you squeeze slightly. “Say it,” you coo. “I want to hear you admit to me that you know you treated me poorly.” 

You expect a fight from him because, let’s be honest, Minho always puts up a fight with you. But any ounce of opposition leaves his body the second his eyes meet yours. He looks regretful. He looks small. “I treated you poorly,” he tells you. His eyes never leave yours. “I acted like a child because I had feelings for you that were misplaced. I liked you from the beginning and I… fuck, I didn’t know how to deal with that and I pushed you away. I wanted you to hate me.” 

The confession that spills past his lips is the last thing you’re expecting him to say. Your grip on his neck falters and he uses his stupidly impressive core strength to sit up, bringing your lips into a kiss. It isn’t explosive, it isn’t word-changing, but it is sweet and apologetic and very Minho. 

He places you on your back and resumes his pace, bringing your legs up to rest on his shoulders. At this angle he reaches deep inside you and the first time you gasp he resumes his brutal, relentless pace. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna knot you, please let me knot this pretty pussy,” he pleads. The first time he said it it was a demand; this time he asks from his soul, baring it to you and giving you ample time and opportunity to reject it. 

“Yes,” you moan. But if he’s going to claim you as his from the inside out, the least you could do is return the favor. And so you scratch Minho, raking your nails down his back until they’re sure to leave a mark. And when you’re both on the precipice you bite down onto his shoulder hard, just inches away from his scent gland. It’s not a mating bite but it is a mark, a claim. You suck hard into the bite just as he finishes, his knot expanding and catching on your entrance. You don’t release your mouth from his skin until he’s done pulsing inside you but to your surprise, he doesn’t stop moving his hips. Despite his knot locking you in place he grinds his hips into yours in small circles, putting pressure right onto your clit with his pubic bone. It’s too much, the stimulation of your clit, his knot, and the thick head of his cock hitting that spot deep inside you causing you to cum around him hard with a cry. 

You feel as if you’ve been electrocuted, little shocks going through your whole body with every wave of your orgasm. You almost wish he was bad in bed, if just to keep your dignity and tell him that he wasn’t all that. But with the gutteral noises he dispelled from your body, lying would just be a farce. 

When you’ve both finally calmed down and his knot finally deflates, you half expect him to kick you out of his room. You’ve built up your walls so high around him that it’s hard to imagine him treating you any other way. You’re anxious for sure, moreso at yourself for allowing yourself to be so hopeful. But Minho rolls over and grabs you, holding you close to his chest. Even when you squirm he doesn’t dare to let you go. 

“I really am sorry,” he tells you. A murmur into your hair. “I don’t want you to move out. I’m sorry for treating you the way I did. My alpha thought… that because we like you that maybe asserting our dominance would make you like us more. I know that’s illogical and just sounds  like an excuse but…” 

“I forgive you,” you tell him. “Well… maybe I don’t forgive you just yet. But I can if you prove to me that you’re done with the macho asshole alpha act. No more being possessive over Jisung. My friend by the way! Still haven’t gotten over that. And no more sabotaging my grades.” You shoot him a glare and he only looks at you sheepishly. Harsh looks turn into soft stares and all of a sudden he’s kissing you again. Your tension has already begun to melt away. You begin to see the charm of the Lee Minho everybody has told you about and you think, maybe… just maybe everything will be okay now. 

“I think we owe Jisung a gift,” Minho whispers into your hair. 

“I think we owe him a hundred gifts,” you wince. 

“He’s not going to believe his fucking mind when he gets back.” You laugh so hard your stomach begins to hurt. You think maybe you like the way Minho looks when he smiles. You think maybe you really like the way cinnamon and ginger smell together. You think maybe you could get used to kissing Minho and that burning, bubbly feeling in your stomach agrees. 

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

[sakuraszn]

ⵌ TOO DAMN LONG !

ft. choso kamo x reader

synopsis. you and your very ‘laid back’ boyfriend choso go to a party and he sits quietly on the sidelines, watching his partner effortlessly charm everyone around them, but as the night progresses he can’t help but feel a little pent up. He had promised to be patient. He had promised to let you have your fun. But you’ve been ignoring him all night. Without a word, he takes you.

cw. sfw content? maybe..┊suggestive themes┊social butterfly reader┊needy choso┊jealous and possessive acts┊slight choking┊at a party┊small mention of the nickname “baby”┊fem coded

nia's notes. you guys don’t understand how much I love him so much so I had to write a fanfic dedicated to this fine, scrumptious man. *giggles for a whole hour while rereading this story* [1.7k words.]

The house was packed, the air thick with warmth, the scent of alcohol, sweat, and faint traces of perfume swirling under dim lighting. Music pulsed through the walls, bass heavy enough to rattle the floor. Conversations layered over each other, people talking too loudly, laughter ringing out every few seconds. The energy was intoxicating, electric, like something alive.

And Choso was miserable.

Not outwardly, of course. He wasn’t the type to sulk in the open, wasn’t the type to scowl and brood in a corner like some jealous boyfriend who couldn’t handle his girl being social.

But fuck, was he struggling.

His fingers twitched around the half-empty cup in his hand, gaze glued to you across the room. You were glowing, all teeth and laughter, caught up in the whirlwind of conversation, dashing between groups with that effortless charm that had everyone wanting a piece of you.

And you had forgotten about him.

Not on purpose. Heavens no! He knew you weren't the type to ignore him deliberately, but it didn’t make the aching in his chest any less suffocating. You had promised you’d stick close, knowing full well that he wasn’t the party type, but here you were—completely absorbed, completely unaware of the fact that he was starving for her attention.

His jaw clenched as he watched another guy—someone you had just met tonight, some fucking stranger—lean in close, laughing at something you said. Too close. A hand on your arm, lingering for a second longer than necessary, a touch you didn’t even react to because you were too lost in conversation.

And Choso was spiraling.

His grip on the cup tightened, his breath becoming too heavy. It wasn’t your fault. You're friendly. Warm. The kind of person people gravitated toward. He knew that.

But that didn’t mean he could handle watching someone else touch what was his.

It wasn’t fair.

You had spent the entire night lost in laughter, your eyes sparkling as you shared sweet smiles and warmth with friends. Each moment you gave them felt like a dagger to him, a reminder of his isolation.

Where was his place in all of this?

As he watched you, a fierce wave of possessiveness surged within him, a first instinct igniting beneath his skin. His heart raced, a throbbing drum that echoed with every laugh you directed toward someone else. The tight knot in his stomach twisted tighter, a suffocating weight pressing down on him. It felt unbearable—an unsettling mix of desire and jealousy that made him restless, hot, and agitated.

You were his, or you should be. The way you leaned into their jokes, the way your laughter rang out—it was as if you were giving pieces of yourself away. He wanted to yell, to pull you back, to remind you of the spark you two shared, the warmth that belonged to him alone.

He was desperate.

For you.

For your warmth, for your touch, for the way you looked at him when it was just the two of you.

And you weren’t even fucking looking at him.

His breath hitched. He needed you now.

Not later. Not when the party started to die down, not when you had finally had your fill of socializing and remembered that he was here, waiting like a fool.

Now.

So before he could stop himself, he moved.

His drink was abandoned on the counter as he cut through the crowd, shouldering past bodies, his steps slow but deliberate. His patience was gone.

You didn’t notice him until he was right beside you until his fingers curled around your wrist, firm, unyielding.

You blinked up at him, surprised. “Choso?”

He stood there in silence, a heavy weight pressing down on his chest as it rose and fell in a rapid motion. His stomach twisted painfully, an unrelenting ache that gnawed at him, fueled by an overwhelming sense of need that had taken root deep within. His focus narrows to the intense feelings brewing inside him, making words feel impossible to form. Instead, he just pulled you in.

You gasped softly at the suddenness of it, nearly slipping into his chest.

“What are you—”

“Come with me.”

His voice was low, rough, almost pleading.

Your brows furrowed, lips parting in confusion. “Wait, I was just—”

“Please, baby.”

And that made you freeze.

Because Choso never begged.

Your gaze flickered over his face—his tense jaw, the way his pupils were blown, the way his fingers twitched against her skin like he was holding himself back from grabbing her, dragging her away.

Slowly, realization dawned.

oh.

He had been waiting all night.

You had left him steaming, aching, drowning in some quiet storm of jealousy and want that she hadn’t even noticed building up inside him.

A slow, heated smile tugged at her lips.

“Alright,” she murmured, voice suddenly soft, indulgent.

You had let him pull you through the house, out of the suffocating crowd, down a dark hallway.

And the second they were alone, the door barely even closed behind them—

His hand was on your neck.

Your breath caught.

Not tight. Not rough. Just firm enough to make you feel held. His thumb grazed your jaw, lifting your chin and compelling you to lock eyes with him.

And damn, he looked utterly undone.

Dark eyes widened, breath catching in his throat, lips slightly parted in anticipation.

“You left me,” he whispered.

Her stomach flipped.

“I—”

“You left me all night.”

The air was heavy with tension, a charged silence that felt as though it held its breath, waiting. His other hand gripped her waist, pulling your flush against him, pressing you against the wall, holding you there like he was afraid you’d disappear again.

Your pulse fluttered against his fingers, a frantic drumbeat that echoed the storm seething within him. “I didn’t mean to,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Choso exhaled sharply through his nose, frustration clawing at him. It wasn’t you he was angry with; it was himself, at the way he couldn’t handle being ignored, at the way his chest ached for you in a way that made him feel pathetic.

But fuck it.

He was past pride.

“I missed you.” His lips crashed into yours.

Starving. Possessive.

He devoured you, the kiss deep and desperate, teeth grazing your bottom lip, tongue pushing past the hem of your mouth, taking.

A soft whine slipped from your throat, and fuck, it only made him hungrier.

His fingers tightened around your neck, his other hand slipping beneath the hem of your dress, gripping your thigh, pulling you up.

You gasped against his mouth, and he swallowed it, pressing deeper, rolling his hips against yours, letting you feel how much he had been suffering.

you whimpered softly, fingers threading through his hair, tugging—finally, finally touching him.

And he nearly lost it.

“Mine,” he whispered against your lips, voice raw, shaking.

you shivered, breathless. “Yours.”

That was all he needed.

Because you were his.

And he wasn’t letting you forget it again.

©sakuraszn! xoxo

[ladykailitha]

Yellow Daisies- A Valentine's Story

When I finished the last of the Boy with a Bat story I wanted to do something fun for Valentine's Day. But I bit off more than I can chew, so I'm releasing the first part and will release the others as the come.

Summary: Steve was told that men only received flowers once and that was at their funeral, so he made it he's life's mission to give everyone flowers as often as he could. Or Five Occasions Steve gave flowers and the time he got them in return.

Each part will have the flowers he gives and their meaning for the occasion.

~

Steve had heard early on in life that men only receive flowers once and that was when it was too late to appreciate them. At their funeral. It made him sad. Even boutonnieres had to be bought and paid for by the boy doing the asking.

Men got hearty handshakes and boys got a pat on the head. Even in sports, girls got flowers for their wins, boys if they were lucky got teddy bears and other stuffed animals. Things that guys immediately tossed on their way out.

Not Steve though. If he got a teddy bear, he kept. Some times they got regifted if the girl really liked one of his collection, but rarely.

So he always tried to make sure he gave as many flowers as he could. Because even though he would never get any back, he wanted to make sure everyone else in his life got as many as possible.

1. Mother’s Day: Pink Carnations- motherhood

When Steve was about eleven and was given money for the first time as allowance when he started middle school, the first thing he did was rush out and buy flowers for his mom.

He bought her white roses, like his father did all the time.

Maureen sighed. “I know you don’t know any better, Steven. But don’t be an idiot like your father. I’m allergic to roses.”

Steve nodded and quickly carried them away when he saw that her eyes were starting to water.

Then he tried poinsettias for Christmas, because he had seen her put out the plant every Christmas and he even picked out the best ones.

Again the gesture was dismissed, though this time it took longer for Steve to notice the poinsettias that were on display weren’t his. It had been hard to tell at first. Because they all seemed to look the same to him.

But then while he was taking out the trash, he spotted a pot tucked away by the garage with wilted leaves and a cracked base.

Steve felt a swooping in his stomach. He knew without taking a single step toward it that it was the one he gave his mom. And while he wanted to believe that the cracked base was the reason it was hidden away. He knew it wasn’t. He knew just didn’t fit his mother’s idea of perfection.

The last time he tried to give her flowers was on Mother’s day a few years later. She had actually been home for a change and so Steve had wanted to do something special for her. So he bought her her favorite chocolates and pink carnations.

Maureen took them with a pained smile and a quiet thank you.

It wasn’t until Steve had come out to the kitchen for a glass of water did he understand what that meant.

She was on the phone with one of her friends. “The chocolates are all right, I suppose. I’ll just have to be sure to portion them out so I don’t get fat. But those flowers, Sophie! They were dreadful! Like I wanted to be reminded I was a mother. My youth is already fading and now carnations! I might as well have one foot in the grave at this point!”

Steve put a hand over his mouth as tried to fight down tears, but they spilled out over his fingers, hot and stinging. He slid down the wall and sat down with a quiet thump. He listened as his own mother complained about how she had felt pressured by Clint to have children and was honestly relieved when told she wouldn’t be able to have anymore.

He got up and walked back to his room, where he held his pillow to his chest and laid down on the bed as he cried and cried. He knew his father hated him for being such a disappointment but to hear that his mother hadn’t wanted him in the first place was hard pill to swallow.

~

“Dude,” Steve huffed, smacking Dustin on the back of the head, knocking his trucker hat to the ground. “You aren’t doing anything for you mom for Mother’s Day? I thought you loved your mom.”

“I do!” Dustin protested slamming his head back on his head. “But gifts to moms are like baby stuff.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “No they aren’t. Now, if you tried to make her shitty ashtray or macaroni necklace I’d agree with you them being childish. But a heartfelt card or even make her one of your electronic doodads would really make her smile.”

Dustin scoffed.

Steve leaned forward into his face. “Because if you don’t I will completely show you up and you’ll never live it down for the rest of your life.”

Dustin gulped, eyes wide. “What would you even do?”

Steve just smiled slow and sinister.

~

Dustin had made a light up sign that said: Happy Mother’s Day, Ma!

Claudia kissed the top of Dustin’s head when he handed it to her. “Oh baby, I love it. Thank you so much. It’s going right on the mantle.”

Dustin puffed out his chest. Just beat that, Steve! he thought gleefully.

Then Steve showed up for dinner with the biggest bouquet of pink carnations he had ever seen. They were like the size of his head. They were wrapped in a delicate white tissue paper and tied neatly with a pink ribbon.

“Oh Steve, they’re beautiful!” Claudia cooed, gently taking the flowers from him. “You didn’t have to get me anything. I’m just grateful you could make it to dinner.”

Steve beamed up at her. “Nah, I wanted to. You’ve been more a mom to me than mine in every way possible. And I know everyone loves to get get flowers.”

She kissed his cheek and then went to go put them in a vase. “It makes me so angry when I think about your mother, Steve. There are some people who don't deserve children. But I’m grateful you’re here, now.”

“Yeah, Steve,” Dustin said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Even though you aren’t blood, you’re as much a part of this family as either me or Ma.”

Steve blushed. “Thanks guys.”

Claudia bustled him further inside to the dinner table and started dishing out the gorgeous meal she had made.

Steve smiled up at her. He had offered to make it for her, but she told him she loved cooking and it was always a treat to make something special so he let her. And seeing her now, he was glad he had gotten her flowers instead pressing the dinner issue, because she looked really happy.

And when he came back the next week, he found the carnations turned upside down to dry out so she could keep his flowers for longer. The love he felt for her grew so much more when he saw that.

2. Get Well: White Spider Lilies, Snowdrops, and Yellow Orchids- Good Health, Consolation, and New Beginnings and Friendship

Steve wasn’t sure who was less surprised when Nicole got mono their freshman year, her parents or her friends.

Even at the tender age of fourteen, Nicole liked the boys and she wasn’t afraid to get what she wanted.

Which made it more hilarious when it was revealed that she got it from a dirty drinking fountain at the elementary. When kids too young to be kissing got mono, her parents first thought that she got it from a boy who had a sibling at the elementary and had been contagious. As her younger sister hadn’t gotten it.

But nope! She had drank from the same fountain because she been there to pick up Penny from school and had gotten thirsty waiting for her.

So when they were allowed to visit her, Steve of course bought flowers. He had asked the florist for something especially nice for a sick friend and she made a bouquet of beautiful white flowers.

Steve went up to her house, flowers in hand. Nicole’s mother cooed over the flowers and told him what a sweet young man he was.

But it went spectacularly wrong when he went to hand them to Nicole.

She took the flowers and looked at them mournfully. “I–I mean thanks. But I only think of you as a friend. I–the flowers are very pretty but I’m not sure I can accept them.”

Steve stared at her for a moment shock. “No, no!” He waved his hands back and forth. “No. It’s not that. I promise! I just taught growing up that you got people flowers when they weren’t feeling good. That’s all, okay?”

Nicole looked down at the pretty white flowers and breathed out a sigh of relief. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Steve.”

Things went smoother after that. But Steve made sure to let the person know they were get well flowers right off the bat.

Something he was sure he didn’t have to say, but now he wasn’t so sure.

~

The aftermath of the Battle of Vecna as Dustin was calling it, was rough on everyone. Eddie and Max were in the hospital. Neither one with good prognoses. Max was in a coma and Eddie was still in surgery after eleven hours.

Even Steve was currently in the hospital being treated for sepsis because once the adrenaline wore off after bring Eddie to the hospital his body decided to overreact to his injuries and shut down.

He hated it. He hated that he was there in a bed that should be used for someone else.

“Steve!” Robin admonished when he voiced these complaints to her. “You almost died! I think it’s okay for you to take a break and let other people handle it for a change.”

Steve really didn’t have anything to say to that, because she was right. He could have died if he hadn’t fainted when he did. And they were telling him it was going to be a long and painful road back to normal, but he would get back to normal. He was in good health, kept up a healthy diet and exercised regularly, it was just almost getting eaten alive that caused his body to go into overdrive.

Which, fair.

So he made sure that both Max and Eddie had flowers delivered every day. He even told the nurses to give the other flowers to patients that didn’t get visitors. Something the nurses loved him for.

The flowers he sent Max and Eddie were the same ones he had gotten for Nicole all those years ago. Snowdrops and spider lilies. But for them he asked that another flower be added to the bouquet. Yellow orchids.

When Max woke up, he was standing there, holding her hand. She looked over to see the flowers and scoffed.

“I don’t need flowers, dumbass,” she said rolling her eyes.

“Everyone needs flowers,” he insisted. “The snowdrops are for consolation. The spiderlilies are for good health, and the orchids are for new beginnings and friendship.”

Max looked over at the flowers again and then up at Steve. “I love you, you asshole!” And she gave him the fiercest hug.

Steve held her tight and kissed the top of her head. “I love you too, Max.”

~

Tag List: TEN SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[tabiito]

INEVITABILITY — OLIVER AIKU note: no warnings other than underage alcohol consumption n brief harassment, they are idiots in love and KNOW IT but just don't do anything. i needed to get this man OUT OF MY BRAIN so i can study don't @ me for getting the physics stuff wrong i've been rewatching big bang theory. can be read as a precursor to his part in dtmf

You weren't supposed to meet Oliver Aiku at seventeen.

You weren't supposed to meet him ever, really.

It was a hot summer night of your junior year, and you'd just been strong-armed into sneaking off to a seedy club with the friend whose house you'd been sleeping over at. Not only were you woefully underage, you were sure you'd alerted her dog as you scaled the gate and nearly broken the heel of the boots she'd lent you on landing.

It had been an out-of-character day for you, in retrospect. Firstly, you'd agreed to the sleepover, which you usually wouldn't, given your schoolwork, and secondly, you'd let her bitching and moaning about how you "never did anything fun and memorable" get to your head.

So there you were, three hours, two thousand yen notes slipped to the bouncer, four turned down drinks later, crawling your way to the door as she'd abandoned you in favour of a much older, sleazy looking man. (Someone had to accept the drinks, she'd argued. Otherwise it looked rude.)

Truth be told, you were shitting bricks. Unfortunately, people couldn't tell your polite taps on the shoulder apart from the more intimate contact that occurs on the dance floor, or hear your soft "excuse me's", that were instantly drowned out by the bass. So the crowd didn't move an inch, and you were attempting your best worm impression as you tried to squeeze through the sea of bodies you'd read horror stories about — in this swarm, newspapers posited there were hungry loan sharks, ready to corner desperate drunks, over-enthusiastic salarymen preying on their next one night stand and gang members scanning the vicinity for vulnerable youngsters.

You were slowly, but surely, getting to the door, and miraculously not falling over and flipping up the miniskirt (once again, lent to you) that you'd been pulling down all evening. The bouncer looked akin to an angel, and the door, the gates of Heaven as you finally made off the dance floor.

Alas, making it to Heaven wasn't in your fate. A large body blocked your view, filling up your eyeliner with a rumpled suit and breath that reeked of the cheap whiskey that they'd been serving at the bar. He slurred his words, grabbing your wrist, mumbling something or the other about one dance. Your brain was screaming at you to move, but the bead of sweat that rolled down your forehead was the only motion your body could produce as you remained glued to the floor.

His hold on your hand tightened, more insistent, as your throat ran dry, unable to comprehend what to do in this scenario. You couldn't take him in a fight, nor did you think anyone would hear you crying for help over the stupid EDM blasting.

You were sure you were toast. The next third-page column title in day after's newspaper, until you felt a warm hand snake around your waist, gently pulling you close to a body, breaking out of the other man's hold with ease.

"They're with me," a raspy baritone states firmly, and you look to your side to see a pair of mismatched eyes calmly surveying the fellow.

"Isn't that right?", he adds, and you can only manage a hasty nod as he squares his shoulders back, sizing up the drunk and giving him a once-over. Back then, though he'd hit six feet, and was in the process of filling out nicely, his hair were a swathe of well kept black and there wasn't the stubble he normally kept, so it took the salaryman a few more seconds than it would take him in the present day to decide to fuck off.

Unfortunately, Oliver's presence did less to alleviate your fears. In fact, you figured you were between a rock and a hard place, and chose to agree with him since he didn't have the foul smell liquor radiating off him. Perhaps you'd be able to reason with a sober person better.

He instantly let goes of you, and you get a better look at him, in his cheap white polyester suit (that he's still got tucked away in some part of his cupboard and you make fun of) and leopard-print shirt. Young Oliver did not have the well-honed partying panache that older Oliver had, and you were biting back a laugh at his Yakuza X Great Gatsby look. "Thank you," you'd managed to stutter, and he flashes you his trademarked charming smile that you still succumbed to, all those years later.

"You could be, by the way," he'd responded, and you'd looked at him quizzically. The line still keeps him up at night, as he cringes internally at the way his attempt at flirting never even had a chance with you.

"Be with me tonight. If you want," he'd pressed on, unabashedly giving you a once over in the outfit you later had nightmares about. The laugh you'd been holding escaped your lips, comfortably disarmed by his non-invasive, but persistent nature.

"Thank you, no," you replied, and he'd been taken aback then by the phrase you used. Of course, he later learnt that it was the more polite and apparently, correct way of declining an offer.

He'd shrugged in response, internally consoling himself with something along the lines of "missing all the shots he doesn't take." Normally, this would've been the end of his ministrations, but he doesn't miss the unsure way you eye the door, or how you eye the time.

"Let me call you a cab," he offers, and you smile appreciatively. In retrospect, you should not have trusted him, because you'd read up about cab-calling scammers too, but there was something idiotically, inherently trusting that Oliver made you feel, in his awfully put together outfit and voice that didn't quite match his face yet.

Braving the cold outside while waiting for a cab and draping his jacket that stank of overpoweringly inexpensive cologne made you throw him a bone and give him your number, veiling it with an excuse of possessing some means to reach him when you'd return his dry cleaned jacket back to him.

You were sure the jacket would never go back to him. It wasn't practically possible. You chalked up your encounter with him to a moment of good karma for you, and left it at that. You'd get his jacket to the cleaners and ask for his address, never actually going there, of course.

He was the kind of guy who felt perfectly at home in a club. You were a student who wouldn't leave the house if you had a choice. There was no way your paths would cross out of the 14,000,000 people who live in Tokyo.

Three years later, your number is his emergency contact.

You're sure it's his persistence that's kept your relationship alive. His first text didn't come until three days later, sending you some corny pick up line when he was going through a dry spell in flings. You promptly responded with a clear "No LOL", and that became your dynamic.

At first, he'd try his luck with you when he was bored, and strike out every time. Maybe that's what spurred him to keep texting you, and you were sure there was something deeply wrong with you that enabled you to keep texting him back, finding his repetitiveness endearing rather than annoying.

Fast forward a few months, you managed to piece together pictures of each other as you traded parts of your life in between banter.

Unlike your previous conception of him, he wasn't some club veteran who'd spend his days partying away. In fact, in that club, he was just as underage as you were, with his debauched lifestyle not suiting an aspiring professional footballer. Initially, you were sure he'd fail. He took great joy in proving you wrong.

His conception of you, though, was spot on. You were perpetually busy, a trend that's continued to the present, but he seemed mysteriously motivated to carve out a place for himself in your life, even if it wasn't in a romantic capacity. He chalks it up to pity, at first, assuming that your stressed homebody lifestyle needed a person to vent to, to be occasionally flattered and entertained.

Though he was right about needing someone who you could be a distraction, he's now sure it's not pity that's keeping him in your life.

His clarity is stolen from an article in a quantum theory magazine you'd raged on about in your first year of university.

In most occasions, when you'd go off on your theoretical tangents relating to your major, most of it would fly right over his head. That time, though, when you'd called him to help you move in (with "helping" mostly being you yammering away to glory and him hoisting your boxes up and down the stairs without complaint), he remembers what you said vividly, even going so far as to dispute you.

"The laws of physics are not inevitable," you'd snorted derisively, jabbing at the headline. "What a piece of nonsense," you'd added, brandishing the magazine in his face. He'd lazily skimmed through the article, ignoring most jargon-y parts and instead focused on the essence of it.

A domino needs a full turn to get back to the same place. A two of clubs needs only a half turn. And the hour hand on a clock must spin around twice before it tells the same time again.

Inevitability.

Oliver doesn't believe that he can be friends with his exes. Oliver has chased, and slept with (to put it crudely), every woman who's attempted to friendzone him, til he's no longer interested in them. He's, ironically, a dwarf compared to you in the real world, not coming anywhere close to your intellect, occasional neuroticism or humour. You've blossomed beautifully from seventeen into your twenties, no longer needing him to distract you from the stresses of academia. You have a full, stable life, complete with a doctorate and other honorary credentials that he's sure most people in their mid-twenties aren't supposed to have.

Oliver, on the other hand, is crashing and burning his way through life. You like to call him a controlled flame off the pitch, and have regularly tried to diagnose him with something on your late night FaceTimes since he exhibits both hedonism and self-sacrificing behaviour, but more often than not you have to settle for the fact that he's a scientific anomaly and call it plain idiocy.

Inevitability's made your relationship come full circle. From you ranting about college applications and dead-end research work to him, he now crawls back to you with his frustrations about Japanese football, his constantly busy schedule, each and every failed fling and situationship with that same telling grin on his face.

He's now convinced inevitability is what's keeping him in your life. You have no need for him, and he can just book a therapist with the stupid amounts of money he's earning, but Oliver can read your face as plain as day when he's rambling on about Suki or Mara, tinged with longing. He's caught his expression in the mirror far too many times when you slap on under-eye patches on him in your small bathroom to recognise it as lovesickness staring back at him to not understand that the two of you are dancing around an unspoken pact, one where his heart is already spoken for every time he steps foot into the clubs you pick him up drunk from.

It's not like he hasn't tried to speed up the process, but with you it's an immovable object vs. an unstoppable force sort of situation. Every time his lips have almost caught yours, every time you've contemplated taking him up on the offer of sleeping on his bed rather than letting him take the couch, it just feels like the wrong time with the right person.

It's unhealthy, and he knows it. You go on dates with boring, serious men that make you feel much older than you actually are, and he chases after the thrill of youth, found in cramped bathroom stalls, gambling dens and back-alleys.

Despite this, it's baffling to you how much of a contradiction he is. In all other situations, you can only attribute this self-destructing behaviour to people with no clear purpose in life, forced to engage in this lifestyle. What do you say to someone who's captaining a Serie A team?

It's one of those nights again in the offseason, where he'd already shot off a message to you that he's going to sleep over, and you'd already prepared his spot on the couch along with ordering hotpot for his hangover the next morning.

"You're so fucking stupid," you sigh, handing him a icepack for where he'd tripped on your stairs in a slightly tipsy stupor. He only cheeses lazily in response, the small bruise on his cheek lifting, as if to tease you by saying: and yet, you indulge in my stupidity.

He takes his seat on the couch as you prop up your legs in his lap. His hands ghost over your ankle, calloused and large, but just as warm as the first time they settled on your waist.

"What time's your flight tomorrow?", you ask, pulling out your phone so you can request the academic coordinator to post a message rescheduling your classes so you can drive him.

"Ten thirty. You don't need to, ah, drive," he says, wincing at the way you reach over and press the pack harder into his cheek. You respond by making a sour face, and he recognises the futility of his words: you never need to drive, and yet you do anyways.

"Are you still going to stop in Milan sometime?", he asks, tipping his head back over the edge of the worn sofa. He needs a haircut, you note.

"If I get a decent connection while on the way to Geneva, yeah," you mumble. The question's so infuriating that you've gotten used to it. You've followed him everywhere: Rome, Milan, and, if transfermarkt.co.in has it right, maybe even Spain soon. It's a given by now — if you were on your way to a conference or visiting faculty, you'd make a stop for a week wherever he was, no matter what the time of season. It's the same way he's considering no longer paying the rent for his Tokyo apartment since his toothbrush and bathrobe are perpetually parked in your toilet.

He clicks his tongue in irritation.

"C'mon, don't make it a connection. Just fly in and let me worry about how you get to Switzerland."

"I'm going to CERN, not a holiday," you grouse, and he waves you off.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Spend some time in the Sun before the Swiss suck your brain juice for what it's worth," he says dismissively. "The guys have been asking about you," he tacks on, and you roll your eyes.

"Ah yes, a team of professional footballers is interested in my measly string theory research," you intone, and Oliver cracks an eye open at you.

"Hey, don't say that. When I told Sendou you might be nominated for a Nobel on your deathbed he seemed very interested," he speaks, and you make a gagging sort of noise.

"Really? I should go from someone who got a fields medal to Sendou?", you say exasperatedly. Oliver shrugs.

"Hey, at least he'll pay for your meal instead of calculating up to the fourth decimal for how much you should split," he counters. "I've taught him well."

"Oh, so that means he'll ghost me a day later, too?", you laugh, and Oliver grins sheepishly. He's pulled you closer by your calves, you realise, since you can't feel the softness of your souvenir Ubers cushion behind you that he got for you and you keep as a tacky joke.

"Only a fool would ghost you," he says, and you mentally add this to the Wikipedia page of "things-Oliver-Aiku-has-said-sound-romantic but-because-he's-Oliver-are-actually-not"

"I guess I'm living in a noodledom then," you say matter-of-factly, and Oliver adds the word to his list of "things-you-say-that-he-has-no-idea-about-but-religiously-Googles-later-to-sound-smart-in-conversation."

"Ahh, my mother's going to send me one of her "why are you single voicemails again", you groan, flopping flat on your back onto the leather.

He chuckles. "At least you're not getting child support threats every two days."

"That's a choice you make. I'm single involuntarily," you snicker, sitting back up and noticing the way your shoulders bump given the proximity.

"Do you think we'll still be like this?", he asks, setting the icepack onto the table in front of him. "Bitching and moaning our way into our middle age?", he asks, and you make a face. Your answer, though, surprises him.

"God, I hope so. There's no way I'm staying sane if I can't complain to you about all the marriages that are coming up."

"Ha. You're assuming you're not going to drag me there with you as your plus one."

"You wound me. I never assume. I already know that's a fact," you say, dramatically laying a hand on your chest and resting your head against his shoulder. He scoots just a bit closer, and you can smell the vodka on him ever so slightly. Thankfully, he's opted for a less nasally invasive cologne.

"You're saying it's inevitable?", he questions, and you hum, nodding.

"It's just a matter of time, my dear sir," you answer, and you nestle imperceptibly closer to him. As sleep washes over you, Oliver doesn't move an inch, even though he's up for the next two hours, plagued by his own mind.

Oliver knows that on the basis of inevitability, it's just a matter of time when everything falls into place, til it becomes the right time with the right person.

You drop him off to the airport and hug him a little tighter than the last time when you say bye. He picks you up three months later and doesn't miss the way you began playing to the music he recommended. You pretend to be cordial with the Instagram model he goes out to dinner with and gets back home. He pretends to be happy for you when you show him the not-so-friendly sweet messages your coworker's sending you. You don't know how he breaks up with the girl the day after he makes his little road trip by dropping you to Geneva. He doesn't know that you say "I have a boyfriend", when you're asked out on a date by the same colleague.

You don't believe the laws of physics being inevitable, but you also didn't believe that you could know someone who's both selfless and selfish at the same time. Oliver's a contradiction, and you're scared. Time, though, is one of the few physical forces that's on his side, from seventeen to twenty three. So he doesn't mind wiling it away, and neither do you, even if it means twisting the knives in your heart just a little deeper.

You'll come around someday. And he'll be waiting.

[sillygoofyqueer]

I know that this is going to get weird but bear with me. Also this isn't meant to be as horny as it might seem.

I think that PIDW Logic™️ would give the middle finger to the whole point of bird demons having genders in the first place and make all bird demons lay unfertilised eggs about once a month, unless they get fertilised while still in the bird demon of course.

Crowyuan would be no different even if he's the heavenly demon variety.

I think Binghe would be jealous of Crowyuan's eggs.

I think Bingge might cook them if Xin Mo got to him.

Oh Binghe would be SO normal if he could naturally have children with Crowyuan.

And imagine how shocked and kind of horrified one of his followers/Binghe/the peak lords/the disciples would be if they were to find (one of) his nests with AN EGG in it. There isn't a baby in it or anything but STILL.

The crow family knows what's up but they still get a little surprise every time because SY doesn't bloody tell them when it's That Time Of The Month: Bird Demon Edition.

I am so so sorry the mpreg part of my brain leaked a bit into the Crowyuan part of my brain.

Henlo, Anon! Thank you for the ask, I very much appreciate it. I need to preface this with the fact that I read this ask, thought "huh, this doesn't feel very horny to me!" and then showed it to one of my mutuals as a sort of second opinion if you will, and they just said 'damn, egg layer Yuan' and that sort of put it in perspective for me. Despite that, I still don't think it's very horny, so either I'm just desensitised to it all, or this isn't horny! ANYWAY, if you want mpreg, we can literally have mpreg. Crowyuan now has mpreg. I don't know if there's a secret group of people who have been praying for this moment, but if there is, you can now rest. Put down the blackmail plans. We're going to look at Original Crowyuan, then Crowyuan on Cang Qiong but with the mpreg lens because that's FUN. (Also jiuyuan) ((To that one irl friend, my bestie booboo bear, you do NOT fucking see this. You never did. Dear GOD, YOU FUCKING DIDN'T.)) Original Crowyuan usually has his unfertilised eggs in his crow home, surprising his family at first but then they learn how to track his...'cycle' if you will, so they aren't caught off guard if there's a random egg in his nest. However, when he starts spending more time at Bingge's castle, it's a constant fucken wrestling match over eating the unfertilised eggs. It's like Crowyuan being like "DROP IT!! DROP THAT EGG!" and Bingge is holding it above his head and being like "I'M GOING TO MAKE SCRAMBLED EGGS AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME!! IT'S A WASTE!" However, I like to think that Bingge is also like "this egg could be fertilised. This could be my child. But noooo, it's devoid of a baby, so I'm going to fucking eat this." Dude I forgot the tag for the Crowyuan that's just chilling on Cang Qiong, but he's obviously just hanging around Cang Qiong and making nests on most of the peaks, so he does just have unfertilised eggs lying around. I imagine that Shen Jiu is the first to find out because (as stated in a previous post, I think) he's got disciples/a record on every single nest on Cang Qiong, so he sees this fucking egg just...lying around in one of the nests and is like "Oh. My God." and then like well what the fuck would he do with this? His pretty crow demon is going to be a mother! He must not let any of the bastard peak lords learn about this, 'lest they try and 'take responsibility' and step up to be a father to his demon's children, so HE must do it first. (When Crowyuan learns of this, he feels so bad because Shen Jiu is so determined about it, so he has to like...actually have a child! Cue mpreg.)

[queenbrucewayne]

Happy Valentine’s?

A/n: so I’m kinda a sucker for little valentines fic, but work has been hell the past few days which is why this was late… oops Happy Valentine’s

The whole school was contagious with today. It was red and pink everywhere, cupcakes and flowers all around.

Glitter was scattered in every corner, the cookies and chocolates were passed around by every girl to every boy in the whole school. It was PDA central.

You hadn’t given the day much thought. Every year was like this, sometimes worse…

The teachers weren’t much help, they embraced the holiday, and it was all the week lead up too. Nothing could beat the celebration of love.

You were sat on top the school roof. It was one of the only places not covered in pink and hearts, and it was quiet. Most times you would come up here for lunch, especially since you made friends with one of the custodians who was nice enough to give you a spare key to get up here.

This time though you were finishing some math homework since the library was full of couples who apparently didn’t have enough shame to not throw themselves on each other.

It was peaceful…until it wasn’t.

Just when you thought you could finally have some peace to yourself, you heard the roof door swing open with a loud creak. A boy quickly came thru, looking to be a bit out of breath. He looked around a bit panicked, his eyes landing on yours. Both of you stared intently at each other, clearly not expecting the other to be there.

Just then you heard the sound of shoes clanking up the metal stairs, the boy looked panicked again.

Ah…now you understood.

“Hey.” You spoke up, “Up there.” Pointing to around the corner, he noticed a rusty looking ladder that was resting on its side. “Use that to get up to above me, they won’t notice, I promise.”

The boy hesitated for a moment, but when the sound echoed louder behind him it didn’t really give him much choice. He quickly ran by you to pick up the ladder. Resting it on the side of the wall you were leaning against, he made his way up, laying flat on his stomach and away from the edge.

You stood up and quickly set the ladder back down on its side, quickly taking position to how you were sitting before.

Just when you settled, about five girls busted out the roof top door. You pretended to keep doing your homework, ignoring the girls who were looking around confused.

“Hey! Did you see Bruce Wayne come this way?” One of the girls spoke up.

You glanced up from your book, “Who?”

As if you cursed at them they all gasped.

“Bruce Wayne! Hello?!? You can’t seriously not know who that is?” Another girl chimed in.

You did know who he was, but only by reputation. Both of you were in the same grade, and because this was a school you could only enter by scholarship or money, it was a small class. Based on these girls reaction you could only assume you had offended them by saying you didn’t know one of the biggest names to go here.

“I’m sorry, I don’t- I don’t really have time to focus on boys. Wish I could help.” Your tone was flat, just enough sass to make one of the girls roll her eyes at you.

“You’re kidding.”

You just shrugged, looking back down at your book, as if you were gonna start reading again.

One of the girls scoffed, not seeming too convinced. “Every girl knows him, billionaire hottie, a bit quiet but also so sweet. He’s a junior.”

Another girl quickly jumped in. “Don’t tell me you’re so engrossed in your studies, you seriously can’t know who the prince of Gotham is?”

You smirked, glancing back up at the group again. “Ohhh, so he’s a prince now? Wow… and yes, I study, it’s kinda what our parents pay so much money for.”

“Whatever… let’s go, we’re wasting time with her.” The first girl said, she clearly was trying to present herself as more intimidating then she actually was.

“You all have fun looking for your prince, although I doubt he’ll find it charming of a bunch of freshmen girls chasing after him like lost puppies.”

They all turned to you shocked for a moment.

“How did you know we were freshman?” One girl asked.

You rolled your eyes, looking back down to your math book again. “Your attitudes are a dead giveaway, but if you really wanna know? It’s the uniforms. No junior or senior still has freshly pressed uniforms, it kinda gets old after awhile, also-“ glancing back up again. “You’re supposed to wear the vests on friday, you’re all wearing the cardigans. That’s a common freshman mistake.” You smirked, seeing as all the girls quickly looked at one another to see you were right, nobody there was wearing the vest and now they all started to get flustered.

A couple of them scoffed and started to walk back downstairs, another girl looked embarrassed, and the last two just looked annoyed with you.

“Ugh, whatever. Like I said, you’re a waste of time.” And with that, the rest of the girls walked back downstairs to the school.

As soon as the door closed behind them, you got up to put the ladder back on its feet. The boy- Bruce, had started to climb down right away.

“Wow, I didn’t expect you to get them to leave so quick.” He praised.

You shrugged, sitting back down to your regular position. “They knew it would be a waste of time staying up here to talk to me, they would rather find you.”

He nodded in agreement, glancing down at his uniform he spoke up again. “I didn’t know about that vest rule on Fridays.”

“That’s because I made it up.” You stated.

Bruce eyes widened, “Wait…what?”

You laughed, looking up at him smug. “Yeah, there is absolutely no rule at the school that states we have to wear our vest on Fridays… I made it up to mess with them.”

Bruce face quickly turned from confused to a smile, and then he started busting out laughing. “Wow. I cant believe that! That’s great!”

Hmm he really had a contagious laugh.

“So…” you started slowly. “Prince of Gotham?” You grinned, watching as his expression now was irritated.

“Please don’t call me that.” He looked a bit pouty now.

“Your royal highness gonna get upset?”

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t come up with the name… it’s just what they call me.”

“They?” You asked.

“The school… the whole city, I don’t know. Someone posted it in the newspaper and…. It just stuck.”

“Oh. So you really didn’t try calling yourself a prince on purpose.” You questioned

“Of course not!”

“So…” you continued. “Do you always have to run away from a bunch of girls on Valentine’s Day?”

Bruce sighed in frustration, seating himself across from you crisscross. “Every year, it’s always a new group of freshman who always act crazy, trying to give me chocolates, heart shaped cards, or maybe some balloons…. It’s exhausting.”

You smiled. “Sounds like you have it rough.”

He frowned. “Are you being sarcastic again?”

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

“So… Why are you up here?” He asked.

“Homework, It’s quiet.”

“That’s it?”

You started writing down more notes. “Yep.”

“You don’t have a valentines?”

You couldn’t help but laugh out, thinking he was joking. However when you looked up his expression looked confused.

“Oh, you’re serious…”

He scoffed. “Well, yeah. Isn’t this one of the school’s favorite holiday. You don’t celebrate?”

“I don’t know… it’s just not my thing I guess. I don’t really have a valentines.” You shrugged.

Bruce thought to himself for a moment. “And… what about the ones you’ve gotten?”

“Umm.” You shifted in your spot. You knew what he was asking wasn’t meant to be mean, he was genuinely curious. You brought your math book up trying to cover a bit of you face. “I don’t get those.”

“What? Really?” He looked genuinely shocked, and you really couldn’t figure out why.

“I don’t really care, it’s not really my thing.” You couldn’t see what kind of face he was making, but you knew he was probably taking pity on you.

When he didn’t say anything back, you peaked up from your math book. He was thinking intently about something, almost like he was trying to solve a problem to a test question. Suddenly he stood back up, dusting a bit of dirt off his uniform pants.

“I’ll be right back!” He quickly said, making a dash for the door.

You didn’t even have time to stop him before the door slammed shut behind him. Not sure what to do next, you went back to taking math notes.

He did say he would be back.

It was probably about 10 minutes later when you heard the echo of shoes getting louder to the roof door. Not bothering to look up when the door opened, already guessing who it was.

“Hey.” He spoke up.

Glancing up to respond, you stopped yourself by the scene in front of you.

He had a white rose in one hand and a plastic sack in the other. Sitting back down across from you, he started to pull out all the things from the bag. Two sodas, a couple of candy bars, and two bags of chips. The last thing he pulled out was a box of band-aids that had hello kitty on them.

Taking a soda and candy bar for himself, he handed you the rest, along with the rose.

You slowly reached out and took it from him, looking at him wide eyed now. Twisting the white rose in your hand you looked back up to him.

“What’s this for?”

“Valentine’s.” He said, casually opening the can of soda and taking a swig.

“Uhh, I’m confused… you-“

“I got you a valentines, the candy and soda from the vending machines, bags of chips from the cafeteria, and the white rose is from the school garden house I snapped off.” He explained, smiling brightly like he just achieved a task.

You looked at the band-aids. “And Hello Kitty?”

“It was the only thing that had hearts on it that wasn’t a school decoration.”

Examining the items and looking up to see his proud expression, you started to smile, a genuine happy smile for the first time ever on this holiday.

Bringing the rose up to your nose you inhaled, smelling the sweet scent that came off of it. It really did bring you joy. Glancing up, you saw Bruce had been starting at you the whole time. “Thank you.”

His eyes widened, looking a bit nervous. “Uh-I” he cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.” He finally got out.

Setting the rose aside, you cracked open the soda he got you, taking a sip. “Even if it was out of pity, it was still a cute gesture.”

Not saying anything for a moment, Bruce started to rotate his soda mindlessly. “It wasn’t out of pity…” he said softly, you almost didn’t catch it.

Just that one sentence, really made you happy. You didn’t know why, but that was exactly what you wanted to hear.

The rest of the time you were up there, you both discussed all kinds of stuff, finding out Bruce had more in common with you then you originally thought. It actually felt like you knew him as a person and not by just reputation.

When the finale bell rang, you couldn’t help but be disappointed. Bruce helped you with your stuff and you both made your way down to the school.

Getting to the bottom, all the hallways were packed with students trying to leave or show off what they got from their Valentine today.

“Let’s go out this way.” You reached out to grab Bruce’s hand and tugged him behind you, sneaking pass the crowd and even avoiding the group of girls you interacted with earlier.

Coming out the side door, you managed to avoid any extra attention. Slowing down your pace, you both started to walk away from the school building and towards one of the school gates. Already seeing parents or drivers here to pick up students.

“Wow, you really know the ins and outs of this school. I didn’t even know that side door existed.” Bruce praised, walking with you side by side now.

“Yeah… I try to find a lot of different places to hide.” You weren’t sure if that was a strange thing to do, but Bruce didn’t seem to be phased. He also hadn’t said anything about you still holding his hand, at some point his grip tightened as if he was worried you would let go.

He started to walk a bit ahead of you, leading you now to the open school gate and sidewalk. When you got there, a black shiny car started to slow down and pull up beside you and Bruce. Coming to a stop, an older man in a nice suit got out of the drivers seat and walked around to the back door, opening it he waited patiently not saying anything.

“That’s my ride.” Bruce said, waving to the gentleman who smiled and waved back.

You suddenly felt disappointed. This was probably the last you would get to hang out, especially since you two sat at opposite sides of the class room. Even though you hadn’t really known anything about him previously besides a name and a face, it was clear you were on completely opposite social standings.

However, your time with him was nice, and nothing like how you expected. A lot of the kids had backgrounds of family’s who were doctors, politicians, or CEO of big businesses, so most of their attitudes were very Im better then you. There was only a few who got here on scholarship, you included. So it only made sense someone as big of a name as Bruce Wayne wouldn’t ever take notice to you.

“So, same time Monday?”

You jumped at the sudden break of silence, not realizing you were stuck in your own head.

“What?”

Bruce smiled, “Monday? Roof top again?” When you didn’t respond right away he suddenly looked nervous. “Uhh, unless you don’t want hang out, I just realized I crashed one of your hiding spots… if you don’t wanna be bothered-“

“No!” You suddenly shouted, causing him to jump a bit. “I mean..” you cleared your throat, “yes, Monday, same spot. That would be fun…”

He suddenly smiled again. “Okay!” Letting go of your hand, he rushed over to his driver. He started saying something to him you couldn’t hear, but you could only assume it was about you since the man looked back to you and smiled big again.

Putting up your hand you waved nervously to him. Seeing Bruce turn to you now and giving a wave himself. He got into the car, his driver closing the door behind him. The man walked around to the drivers side, getting in and driving away.

He wanted to hangout… again. He expected to hangout again… He had fun.

You stood there for a moment, turning around to start your walk home. A smile started to creep it’s way onto your face… this was the best Valentine’s Day ever… you couldn’t wait for Monday.

Tag: @christianbalefanatic

[runninriot]

your heart's safe with me

written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles Valentine's Day pop-up event and @steddiebingo main card fill for the prompt pre-relationship

rated: T | wc: 1.000 | tags: pre steddie, pining, love confessions, implied friends to lovers

   "If I have to see one more couple kissing, I'm gonna be sick. Can they just not? I'm already miserable, don't need them to rub it in like that," Steve groans and Eddie gets it; it's hard being single on Valentine's day.

That is, if you're name is Steve Harrington. Self-proclaimed former ladies’ man, who never really had a problem scoring a date until he lost his crown when he climbed off his high horse and became part of the loveless losers club Eddie's been a member of all his life.

   "Can't even go to Robin's for our annual Fuck Valentine's date because she's seeing her new girlfriend tonight. I mean, I love that for her but- god, it sucks being alone."

   "You do know who you're talking to, right?"

Steve turns to look at him, confusion making way for understanding.

   "Oh, uh, sorry."

   "You should be. I've never had a date on Valentine's day. Or ever, for that matter. But do you see me complaining? No. So suck it up, man. You'll find the right one. Maybe not today but- they're out there somewhere."

Eddie hates to even think about it but there’s no denying the fact that one day, he'll have to come to terms with Steve being in a relationship with someone that isn't him. It sucks, but that's just how things are.

   "You could come to my place after work," Eddie offers before thinking it through. "We can watch some cheesy romcom. You can complain about how unrealistic it is and I can make fun of you for crying over the happy ending."

This makes Steve laugh and Eddie takes it as a win; he loves making Steve laugh, loves the sound of it.

   "So that's a yes?"

After their shift, they separate ways only for Steve to make a detour home because he complained about needing to get out of his smelly work clothes and take a shower.

Eddie would've offered his shower and his clothes for Steve to change into but it’s better that way – better not to give his mind any more reason to create fantasies he definitely shouldn't have.

So, he uses the time to freshen up and clean up some of the bits and bobs scattered around his apartment. It's not messy, not really. Nothing like Wayne had augured when Eddie moved out to live on his own. It's more like organised chaos but because it's Steve coming over, Eddie puts a little more effort in it than he usually would.

An hour later, Steve finally arrives.

   "For how long it took you to get changed, I thought you'd be dressed up a lot nicer for me," Eddie jokes when he opens the door and finds Steve standing there in comfy sweats and hoodie, hair tousled but still unfairly good looking.

   "Sorry. Robin called because she was freaking out about her date, so I had to calm her down. You know how she gets when she's nervous." Steve shakes his head and sighs, smiling fondly, "But I stopped at the pizza place you like. Brought your favourite, as an apology."

His smile turns from soft to cheeky and Eddie happily takes the large box handed to him.

   "I could kiss you right now."

Eddie could kiss him always, but Steve doesn't need to know.

They get comfortable in the small but cosy living room, eating while watching the movie Steve chose - something about best friends who are obviously meant to be but too oblivious to realise it. Eddie's not really paying attention, just enjoys Steve's presence. Letting his eyes linger on the man beside him every now and then, smiling whenever Steve smiles, counting the moles on his face and neck, wishing he could kiss every single one of them. It's stupid, maybe even risky to gawk so openly, but Steve doesn't notice - or at least he doesn't call him out on it.

   "This is so stupid," Steve says and Eddie laughs because he's been waiting for it.

   "How do they not know? I mean- it's clear as day that he's into her. How can she keep looking for love when it's right there?"

   "Sometimes you just don't see what's right in front of you, I guess." Eddie swallows hard; he knows too well what it's like not to be seen.

   "Okay, sure. But then why doesn't he just- tell her. I mean, they're clearly perfect together."

   "It's not always that easy."

   "I'd want to know. If there was someone loving me like this, I'd want them to tell me."

Steve turns to look at him and Eddie's breath catches in his throat.

Does he know? Does he suspect something? That can't be. Eddie never told anyone about his feelings for Steve.

   "What if they're scared?" It already sounds like a confession and Eddie curses himself for not keeping his mouth shut.

   "Scared of what?"

Eddie scoffs frustrated.

   "I don't know, Steve. Rejection? Losing your best friend? Having your heart broken?"

He didn't mean to snap at him but this conversation really hits a nerve.

   "But what if..." Steve trails off, seems lost in his thoughts, "What if they love them back?"

Eddie has the sickening feeling that they're not talking about the movie anymore.

   "They wouldn't know unless the other person gives them a sign."

   "Something like that?"

Before the question even sinks in, Eddie’s lips are sealed with Steve’s that are tentatively pushing, opening up just enough for a hint of tongue Eddie chases with his own, falling easily into the rhythm of Steve's lead.

Eddie keeps his eyes closed for a long moment after they part, contemplating whether he dares to believe this is real.

   "Your heart's safe with me," Steve whispers sweetly and Eddie realises then, that this crush hasn't been so one-sided all this time.

Next year on Valentine's, he promises himself, he'll make it extra special for Steve. Tonight though, sharing pizza and kisses and confessions is enough to make it perfect.

[pumpkinsy0]

PaperCut valentines day hcs!!! wooooooo

•their whole valentines is like that one “VICTOR U ACTUALLY DID THIS” video LMAOOOO

•angela would get a LOT of gifts on valentines day from different ppl and she was feeling extra nice she gave some of her stuff to curly and he would mess up the flowers, eat the chocolates that sorta thing. but after getting w pony he just took those things and gave it to pony, way to save money!!! angela find out and bc shes petty, she gave curly the stuff that had her name on it, but that didnt annoy pony so ha, jokes on her

•just bc curly and pony got a valentines now, dont mean that they’re randomly wishing the best on other couples, ESPECIALLY curly, they go to the valentines secrion of stores and hide somethings to make it seem like its sold out and mess w the teddy bears to make them do inappropriate things, maybe leave some signs that

•tbh most pony can do for curly on valentines is cook for him like the good little malewife he was made to be while curly watches him w his feet up, or if curlys not there swatting everyone elses hands away from the food he plans to give to curly

•curly paid a friend 10 bucks to dress like cupid, diapers, bow and arrow, sashel, the whole deal, and follow him and pony while they were on a date. freaked pony theeeee hell out, he wanted no part in that bs

•pony plays into the corniness of valentines day and to what curly makes fun of him about, and makes purposely very corny poems about curly

•their first valentines together, pony didnt do anything for curly, which he felt bad for seeing that curly got him at least chocolates, he didnt think curly was the type so he didnt bother😭😭, curly doesnt let him live it down, every valentines day he brings it up

•id like to think that curly spent time shaping his afro into the shape of a heart but after pony saw it, curly fixed it back to its normal shape out of embarrassment

•let a diner allow for couples to eat for free if they kiss in front of a worker for longer than 5 seconds, pony and curly r making OUT!!!! RIGHT THERE!!!!!!! slip in tongue or something for extra measure, those heart shaped burgers will b THEIRS

•valentines is one of the only days pony actually calls curly pet names, nothin too crazy but babe and if hes feelin risqué, baby, curlys reveling in it

•one of the bday months i could see curly having is february, bonus points if the day is closer to valentines, curly gets all prissy w pony and pony in an odd way is into it, what weirdos🙄🙄

•despite being able to somewhat speak it, curly thinks french is a gay ass language, however bc its seen as “the language of love” to some ppl, he dusts off the part of his brain that remembers it and speaks the most french hes ever spoken since moving to the us and hits on pony w it. but like i said, his french is rusty, ik he messes up his sentences sometimes n calls pony things he dont mean to say

•each valentines day chances r if u look well enough, ur gonna see pony and curlys initials carved into a new place, they got no shame!!!

•curly will pick flowers from ppls neighborhoods to use as a bouquet to give to pony, pony always keeps a flower or a flower part to use as a bookmark, till it rots more and more just wilting away

•pony spends an embarrassing amount of time making sure he looks good on valentines day, he feels like such a girl he hates it so bad but cant help it😭curly calls pony his doll bc of it

•valentines double date is a no go for them, they would rather die than let anyone know what the do for each other on valentines, its so awkward

•curly and pony prolly use the hellllll out of their older brothers cologne, only difference is darry thinks its cute and doesnt mind, tim will throw a fit over it, mf just take a shower and do ONE SPRITS

[resolvebound]

A slight frown persisted on his face as he continued to stare out the window, his mind on the approaching weather. His expression melted away into a slight smile as he observed Muddy rolling around in the snow. Although the dog would come back in cold and damp (which was never fun to deal with), it was certainly better than when she would come in covered in her namesake.

He turned his attention back to his guest, dipping his head in acknowledgement as she accepted his offer of warmer clothes. A measure of relief eased his shoulders, knowing that she was wise enough to see the necessity and not foolishly deny it. He’d known people (and yes…sometimes ‘people’ had in fact been simply himself), that had stubbornly insisted that they would be fine without the extra layers, too confident in themselves and in their estimation of their travel. It didn’t tend to end well.

Still, was it any surprise that Evergreen was sensible enough to take the help? Of course not. She was certainly better at it than he was, and he could appreciate that it might be hard for her in any case. He knew that if the situation was reversed and he had (somehow) accepted help, his pride would be grating on him. The last thing he would want would be for someone to make a big deal out of his situation or make excuses for him. With that in mind, he said nothing else on the matter and instead simply took a large draught of his smoothie before setting down the glass on the countertop.

“I’ll get you some warm stuff now,” he said, beginning to move past Evergreen, deciding he might as well do the task in the moment.

As he headed into his bedroom, it occurred to him that there was a chance his guest might think he was eager to get her on her way. Following that thought, it also occurred to him that he was in fact, not eager to send her on her way. It was…strange to consider, that he found himself reluctant for her to leave when he was normally quite content on his own, but it really shouldn’t be strange. She was, after all, easy to be around and they were…friends? Yeah, friends.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind and set his attention on the chest of drawers in his room. Giving thought to his prediction of the weather, chilled air and a chance of snow later, he decided a hoodie would be a nice, cozy option for her. He would grab a spare coat for her later too, when it was time for her to leave.

Opening the largest drawer, he surveyed the options for a moment, then pulled out one of his favourite hoodies. Dark brown, soft, subtly lined with fleece for extra warmth, the item would no doubt swamp Evergreen’s figure, but that was precisely why he chose it (and perhaps also because the colour would complement her better than some of the other options).

He plucked it from its haphazard place with its confines, then draped it over his arm as he closed the drawer and opened a different one. With remarkably less consideration than his previous choice, he withdrew a set of sky blue, knitted winterwear – a scarf, gloves, and beanie.

This set, like the four others of varying colours within the drawer, had been knitted and gifted to him by Lisanna. She’d gotten rather into the hobby lately and had insisted on forcing generously sharing her creations with him. He recalled she’d been quite pleased with this particular set, as she’d implemented a white cloud pattern and had also gotten the hang of making pompoms (the ends of the scarf and top of the beanie bore evidence of her newfound love for the decorative element). He was sure Lisanna wouldn’t mind him lending the items to someone in need, especially to one of her own friends.

Goods in hand, he exited the room to return to Evergreen. Since she was occupied with her breakfast, he gently tossed the hoodie and gloves to rest over the back of the nearby armchair for when she was ready for them. Seeing her with her bowl of cereal, and thinking back to her comment of not having to climb on the counter to get it, he wondered if her roommates did put the cereal boxes out of her reach on purpose, just to get a reaction from her.

The image of her chipmunk cheek pout came to mind, and he had a feeling that if that was the face she’d make at such an act, he could see why her friends would be tempted to provoke it. Ever since he’d seen it himself, some time ago now, the expression occasionally popped into his mind and made him wonder how to bring it about again. The urge to do something to tease a reaction from her tickled the back of his mind like the whisper of a little devil on his shoulder. It had been a long while since he’d last felt such a thing, and in fact, he’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel it at all. In truth (although it was little known), once he was comfortable with a person and sure of their reactions, he was the type to delight in being a nuisance to them from time to time.

Mentally shaking himself, he stepped through the kitchen to open the back door and allow Muddy her re-entry, closing it again once she scampered through. The icy touch of the breeze slipped inside and once more made him aware that his guest was likely cold, even with the door firmly shut again. Driven by an impulse he didn’t want to look to closely at, he moved closer to Evergreen and draped the scarf he still held around her shoulders. Then, he unfolded the beanie and settled it on her head, gently tugging it into place.

A smile flashed briefly across his face at the way the floppy pointed end of the hat draped down over her forehead. He readjusted it to hang at the back and then gave a small but mischievous flick to the pompom.

“There,” he said, “snug as a little bug now.” His gaze, warmed with amusement, referenced her tshirt with a quick glance before he shifted away and got busy setting out food for his eager canine.

While Muddy happily dug into her morning meal, Gray straightened up and considered what Evergreen had said about her flying back to the village. It made sense for her to try travel as quickly as she could, not just to try fast forward Freed’s inevitable questioning, but to get ahead of any bad weather. He sighed, not envying her journey or return home.

Even knowing she could likely fly from his house and not need to pass along the roads to find the way, skipping Winterweed, and head directly to its sister village where her reward awaited her, he found himself offering, “Muddy and I can walk with you back to the Winterweed if you want.”

She fell into silence for a bit. Sipped her tea, allowed herself to wake up more. It was almost hilarious---twenty-four hours ago, she had gotten off the train, checked in with the quest giver and then started her pursuit of the monster that had gotten her into this situation in the first place. By no means had this been a difficult job---she would have brought backup otherwise, but just around noon, a day ago, she had thought "This should be easy. What could possibly go wrong?", effectively dooming herself.

What had gone wrong, rapidly, had been that the monster had not behaved the way she would have expected it to as it had not fallen for the trap she had set. With the knowledge she now had---that the weather would change---it now made sense that the creature would try to return to its shelter rather than hunt, but it had not made sense, sixteen hours ago. Following the ice salamander to its lair had been a foolish mistake, a rookie mistake, but she had already berated herself sufficiently for that instance of stupidity while she had tried to get back to civilisation to get her wounds tended to. And in the end, she had succeeded, which had been enough to ensure that she had not been too harsh with herself.

She accepted the smoothie Gray was handing her with a nod before taking a first sip. It was good, and smoothies were generally a good way to get some vitamins in. "Thank you," she said quietly as she twirled a strand of her hair around her finger before threading it back into her messy bun. "And I think I'll go with the sugary one---and I don't even have to climb onto the kitchen counter to get the box," she added, grimly, as she put the cereals into a bowl before adding some milk. Her roommates knew what they had done, repeatedly, and despite her telling them to be a bit more considerate of the fact that she could not reach the top shelf.

She knew, she could always unfurl her wings and fly up, just a bit, but it was a matter of principle at this point, and she would not give in.

Gray's weather forecast and the hinted-at warning that accompanied it was, well, it was not unexpected. He was the expert for this area, and he was right---she would have to bundle up, lest she wanted to add a nasty cold to the list of reasons why she needed to see Porlyusica. A quick surge of frustration with herself threatened to consume her, but she was quite adept at regulating her emotions. And really, she would have been out of the area already, if not for her injury. And the fact that she had ended up walking into the wrong direction, because of the injury. Though really, in how far it had been the 'wrong' direction was debatable; it had been nice to catch up with Gray a bit.

Still, she could not help but feel a little embarrassed---she had been on the shortlist for S-class, she should know how to prepare a job properly. "I swear," she muttered, "I am usually much better prepared for sudden changes in the weather. That is to say that I would appreciate it greatly if you had some cold weather clothes I can borrow. I need to get to your neighbour village to collect my reward, and as much as I usually trust my coat, I think it has a vent now and the storm will chill me to the bone."

She would take her coat to a tailor the moment she was properly back in Magnolia. She was quite adept with needle and thread, but while she had mended plenty of small tears in her clothes over the years, she could not claim to ever have fixed a fur coat and kept it looking good---nor had she ever given it a try. There was probably some kind trick to it that she did not know, and while she was ready to experiment with some of her clothes, the coat had been a gift from Laxus and she knew that he had paid good money for it. Getting it fixed by an expert was the least she could do to show her continued appreciation for the gift.

She sighed as she took another sip of her smoothie. It was still good. And really, she did not have to stress about borrowing a coat or something, did she? They were friends. Borrowing clothes was pretty normal. "A coat and a scarf or maybe even a hat would be appreciated," she said, bravely maintaining her composure. "I'll probably fly over---it's a bit more difficult, sure, but it's much quicker and don't get me wrong, but I would rather enjoy having the interrogation Freed is surely preparing right now behind me."

Being on a team with close friends meant, sometimes, no, most of the time, being on a team with nosy people. And really, she would do the same thing if one of her teammates came home later than expected.

[xviistrings]

you're just like me

[tenok]

.

[tojbnuy]

since you guys are asking sooo nicely here is a part 3 teehee. part 1 part 2 . art by @ _3aem on twt!!

bestfriend!satoru who’s always buying you new jewelry. esp with your initials on them, you’ve got bracelets and necklaces in golds and silvers because he knows you like both.

bestfriend!satoru who calls you at night and will always convince you to turn it into a facetime. he doesn’t think you realize just how appealing you look with your hair down, big glasses on and a thin strapped pyjama top. said straps falling down your shoulder as your busy talking and he’s trying so hard to listen but how can he when your tits just look so good and from this angle he’s got a clear view. ‘toru are you listening?’ ‘yeah pretty carry on’

bestfriend!satoru who hates it but finds himself feeling slightly insecure when you’re engaged in conversation with nanami. he knows nanami can actually converse with you about the books you read and some of the movies you watch, something satoru’s been meaning to catch up on so you could have these conversations with him instead. he’s complaining to suguru as nanami hugs you goodbye and everything just gets worse when you walk over with the most adorable smile only to tell him that nanami was taking you to the theatre. why the fuck do you want to go to the theatre?

bestfriend!satoru who knows how childish it is but the next time nanami is in the room satoru has you pressed up against his body, his hands firmly gripping your ass as he looks dead into nanamis eyes. ‘ouch toru too hard’ ‘so sorry pretty girl your ass is just too perfect’

bestfriend!satoru who asks you for lip balm but he always means he’s going to kiss it off of you. plenty of times he’s left with your lip combo pressed onto his lips and chin.

bestfriend!satoru who places a blanket over the two of you when your friends are over. his index finger playing with the hem of your tiny shorts. when he sees you listening too closely to nanamis boring ass stories he grabs a handful of your shorts and hikes it up until the crotch is pressed directly against your clit. he smirks at the hiss that leaves you . ‘y/n you okay?’ spoken aloud and now everyone’s staring at your flushed cheeks and the firm grip you have on his bicep.

bestfriend!satoru who is mean and he knows he is but he can’t stand it when you go all quiet with him. he noses at your cheek and presses little kisses all over your eyelids as you try to keep a stern face. ‘sorry baby it was an accident, let me kiss it better?’

bestfriend!satoru who has an obsession with your lips. yes he may be obsessed with many things about you but your lips are truly his kryptonite they are his downfall. he cuts you off mid sentence a lot just to give them a quick peck. sometimes he even licks them cos he’s a perv. ‘toru you can’t keep doing that’ ‘but why baby? i just find you too cute’

bestfriend!satoru who smiles like a loser when you include him in your monthly photo dumps.

bestfriend!satoru who adores when you seem equally as annoyed when he gets female attention. he’ll elongate it for the fun of it sometimes just so you’ll get mad and that means you’ll probably be sleeping at his house tonight. you know because everyone else is wasting his time.

bestfriend!satoru who bites random parts of your body. your tummy is a frequent victim. sometimes when you’re on the phone and his head is laying your lap he’ll turn over and bite your tummy. then your thighs. sometimes fingers too.

bestfriend!satoru who is a ‘where my hug at’ warrior. as soon as he enters the function he expects a big hug from you. and if he doesn’t get one he is at you in a heartbeat ‘baby where’s my hug?’ and his hands are roamingggg all over you, not an inch of you untouched.

bestfriend!satoru who knows sometimes all you need is a little reassurance. no one gets you like he does and sometimes you truly just need to hear His voice telling you you’re okay. sometimes you crave him just like he constantly craves you.

bestfriend!satoru who drags his index finger across your lips as you sleep. sometimes even sticks his thumb between your parted lips.

part 4 !!

tag list : @haruhatake @moncher-ire @startwithrecords @ranatherealestsigma @chjinua @whozeurdaddy @sukuxna0 @purp1eha1o @tibibibi123 @jjkysnk @missthatgirl @greensunflowerjuna @macchiatoast @suechii

[ame-to-ame]

love being nd and have the tism wolf Inside me be so drastically uncomfortable with uncertainty that i physically cannot think about school and having to deal w the unknown of that whole situation without losing 5lbs in 2 days

[hxney-lemcn]

Mine, Only Mine — Mr. Crawling, Gap, Silvair, Chopped, Hugeface, and Scarletella x gn! reader

summery: how jealous do some of the Homicipher boys get?

tw: unhealthy relationships (Mr. Hugeface & Scarletella)

wc: 1.2k

Master List

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Crawling

❥I know people have written about how he gets jealous…but I don’t really think he does? Or at least not terribly. The scene with Mr. Chopped and the cat ears show that Mr. Crawling won’t pout or get sad at you showing affection to others, just that he wants to gain the same attention (the ear scene…). So jealousy with Mr. Crawling isn’t too bad, just be prepared to shower him with more affection than the person you originally did. 

❥On the other hand, I do think his jealousy may increase if you ignore him. Say you give more attention to Mr. Scarletella, Mr. Crawling would get a bit sad and pouty, thinking you don’t like him anymore. If this happens, give him lots and lots of attention and reassurance, he’ll be super grateful. I mean he loves your affection anyways, so might as well give him some extra headpats and kisses. Even better if you only show certain signs of affection with him, it makes him feel special. 

❥Overall, not the most jealous, but not completely unaffected either. Make sure he gets his daily dose of attention/quality time and he’ll be as right as rain.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Gap

❥Uh, he gets more jealous than you’d think. Like…his whole thing is he wants to be special to you…in his own strange way. Doesn’t like the thought of someone taking his place as a jokester to you. Also why he brings you things he’d think you like from time to time, just to make sure you still have that special place in your heart for him <3

❥Hates hate hates when you call him bad or not good. He’s good! He swears! Remember how he’s helped you before! Gets all frowny when you call him not good and then call someone else good. He’s good too! Guess he has to prove it, AGAIN. It’s honestly kind of endearing how he has no clue how he actually kind of does like you? But not exactly in a romantic way? It’s honestly hard to label his feelings towards you, so why should I?

❥I’d say he’s the second most jealous in this list of characters, watching on angrily as you praise someone that isn’t him. Be prepared for magazines and books galore when he’s in this mood, trying to prove his worth to you. Kind of strange for someone to try so hard when they claim to not like you…

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Silvair

❥Definitely the chillest one here. Doesn’t really get jealous at all :/ If anything, he finds it entertaining when you’re affectionate with others. Gives him more insight to his lab rats. Yes, he sees everyone as a lab rat. Idk, I can’t really see him get jealous.

❥Maybe…MAYBE if someone else tries doing research on you, or if Ms. Nurse treats you instead he’ll feel a bit off. Like…you’re his test subject, he knows you from the inside out…literally and not in the fun sense. Why would you go to someone who doesn’t know as much about you and how this world affects you? It’s very hard to spot his jealousy, doesn’t even notice it/recognize it himself. He just doesn’t want anyone to mess up his data…that’s all…totally.

❥In conclusion, not really jealous. Doesn’t feel like he needs to be. You’re ‘friends’, doctor and patient, mad scientist and lab rat not many others threaten that balance between you. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Chopped

❥Honestly…Mr. Chopped I’m kinda mixed on how he’d be. Like on one hand, I could totally see him getting jealous if you call others cute or pay too much attention to them. On the other…he could probably care less. He loves himself, you love him, why does he need to get jealous? It’s clear how much you like him with the way you pamper him. I mean we get so many examples where you’re affectionate to Mr. Crawling in front of Mr. Chopped and he doesn’t really bat an eye. 

❥Now, I can see if he gets a bit insecure he might get more jealous. Whether it be because Mr. Crawling pats your head or tucks you into bed, Mr. Chopped feels a bit sad. He’d like to tuck you in, you look so comfy. Might be just a bit pouty, eyeing you like a dissatisfied cat. Easily rectified with head pats or even cuddles. Gets side tracked from his jealousy as soon as you give him a sliver of attention honestly.

❥Mr. Chopped is fifty fifty when it comes to jealousy, but it’s never too bad. He’s pretty comfortable with what you both have and doesn’t really feel threatened by others. After all, you did call him cute.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Hugeface

❥I wouldn’t say he gets jealous? More possessive than anything. Like that scene when Mr. Machete stumbles into his little makeshift dollhouse that he made for you and gets all angry that he’s there. It’s more of a ‘you’re not supposed to be here, this is our playtime’ more than actual jealousy. Throws a little fit whenever someone messes up your playtime. Very accusatory lmao.

❥Does not like when you try to escape. Was he not providing enough for you? Were you unhappy? You’re not allowed to leave! You’re his cute human! He can’t just find another one y’know. Mr. Hugeface may be lenient if he sees you happier, you need enrichment after all. Feels extra happy if you come back on your own violation. 

❥The most childish out of all the characters on this list. Isn’t afraid to throw tantrums, will also punish you by putting you in a solid concrete cube if he’s really upset. Yeah…not the most healthy of relationships to have…BUT! I do think you could convince him to be a bit better…? Maybe? Only if you put enough work in communicating with him though. Maybe punish him in your own way like leaving for longer if he threatens to trap you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Scarletella

❥Uhhhhhhhhhhh. Top of the list when it comes to jealousy. Watches your every move with curiosity and spite. Why are you doing that to Mr. Crawling? Do it to him instead. Why do you look so happy braiding Mr. Chopped’s hair? Style his hair instead. Why are you looking so fondly amused at Mr. Gap? Don’t you find him amusing? You do like him, right? He likes you. He likes you a lot, and he thought he was enough…was he not?

❥Will stare through your skull. It is so intimidating. His smile? Strained, it makes your skin crawl. You have to make sure he doesn’t hurt your friends, he’s so close to snapping, but he knows that would upset you and that’s not his goal. So instead he stands ominously in the background, body staticing in and out while his hand clenches the handle of his umbrella. 

❥Not that easily mended. Likes to monopolize all your time and affection. Needs constant reassurance as well, he’s quite needy. If you like constant validation and no social life go for it, just don’t get too upset if he threatens your other monster friends…he can’t stand that you could like someone that wasn’t him.

[mrchoppedslefthand]

Homicipher Random Headcanons/Scenarios [NSFW]

Edit:11/07/2024

I desperately needed to post the random head canons and scenarios of our husbands that my brain kept cooking up (+ some from discord friends), so the list is not organized. Also, since we shape shift, I'm going to assume we can choose whenever we have a cock or pussy (because I want to be fucked and do the fucking) Anyways...enjoy the food thought.

Characters: Mr. Crawling, Mr. Chopped Mr. Silvair, Mr. Hood, Mr. Gap, Mr. Machete, Mr. Scarletella

Warnings: mentions of NSFW, mentions of some canon-typical violence, implications of dubcon, mentions of somnophilia, implied cuckold

Mr. Crawling

He can be submissive top. Constantly asking you if you love him during intimacy. He would ask if you enjoy playing with him as you pound yourself onto him. He would be a moaning mess and probably wouldn't know what to do about it as he clumsily places his hands around your waist.

He would definitely eat you out without you asking once intimacy had been initiated.

Afraid of hurting you, he wouldn't be too rough, instead he would be more tender and gentler when it comes to intimacy.

He definitely would love it when you play with his hair, allowing you to braid it or do whatever as long it doesn't involve cutting his precious hair.

He actually gets jealous easily, but he doesn't verbalize it, instead he shows it through his actions.

He is better with his hands, than his cock. So sometimes you prefer that over his cock. His cock is more on the average/smaller side and it's cute.

He definitely has a praise kink.

Mr. Chopped

He lacks a body, so to make up for it he is extremely expressive and open with his feelings. Which makes him a little fun to bully, to see all those cute expressions he could make.

He probably would be very good with his mouth and tongue, let him be your personal rose toy/fleshlight if you will. He can't fight back and have no choice but to whimper about it.

Imagine getting sick and fainting with him nearby, he can't move or do anything but helplessly cry for you to wake up and starts crying out help for Mr. Silvair to come help him and you.

Maybe one day, for a day of tricks and pranks. Mr. Stitch will allow Mr. Chopped a day in his body, so they swap places, stitching Mr. Chopped in place of Mr. Stitch's head. It had been a very long time since Mr. Chopped felt sensations beyond his head, so he happens to be very sensitive and clumsy with his hands. Everywhere you touch overwhelms him, he melts and becomes a moaning mess, but Mr. Chopped isn't the only one feeling all these sensations. Mr. Stitch can still feel it too. He is intrigued by today's type of play.

He definitely would be more on the whiny and needy side when it comes to pleasure, he lacks a body, but he can still feel lust. He can't do anything about it, which makes him extremely needy and extra pouty.

Mr. Silvair

Definitely would have had intimacy with other ghosts/humans before to research the body and performance during mid transformation if it differed.

Imagine one day he finds a mysterious liquid that fell from the 'other world' and feeds it to you, himself and the other ghosts in your crew. Only to find out it was an aphrodisiac. It was the first time he felt such a strong sensation of lust. At first, he mistakes this strong desire to be violence, so he starts to self-inflict wounds onto himself. You attempt to stop him, but soon find yourself to be underneath him as he bites into your neck, drawing blood. Surprised at seeing the often-composed man, turning into a ravage beast. You somehow manage to find something to tie him up and have your way with him.

He probably likes overstimulation on you...but also himself. He would love to research on how much his body can go and handle.

He would actually be a switch, for research purposes. To take and give he'd do anything for research. It had been long long ago since his body used to be human, and he often forgets about his own experiences if he doesn't write them down, but no worries, he has you by his side now to keep remembering.

Mr. Hood

He is quiet but speaks whenever he finds it suited for. But if you need him, he would be happy to talk with you.

He is a bit insecure about his body, he doesn't have arms or hands or even legs, he is an entity of nothing. The clothes are what shape his form, and well maybe he not entirely a entity of nothing. You had a glimpse before, a small glimpse and sensation of a squishy and somewhat slimy part that had belonged to him. You never mentioned though, but if it was you'd love him still anyways.

He realized that some words had been a bit harder for you to keep in mind and remember and so he thought of a special way to get you learning. Learning with what humans call pleasure. He fucks you and asks you what certain things are, and if you get it wrong, he denies you from coming. You have become determined to learn your words properly even more so now. Because if you remember you get rewarded with the most absolute fulfilling fuck of your life.

Since most of his body is invisible or nothing. If you mouth fucked him you would be able to see that real good, it is strangely erotic watching your cock move inside his mouth.

Mr. Gap

When you're sleeping, sometimes he might just cuddle against your leg or lower half. He loves the feeling of warmth, compared to his hollow darkness.

He definitely seems like the type of person to eat you out while you're asleep. Playing around and waiting for you to wake up to watch your reaction. Of course, he would only do this though if he knew you'd allow it. He values consent.

Imagine taking your backpack to school and you have to take out a pencil for a test. When you open your backpack, you realize it is just an empty void and hear a voice asking for your heart in exchange for the pencil. Yeah... you accepted your fate. You just failed your exam...

When you become a moaning mess under him, he can't understand but he knows that from your sweet voice, and moans, that it's a good thing. He knows to keep continuing.

One day Mr. Gap gathers his usual newspapers that fall from the rubble or somehow manages to grab one from the human realm. He notices a magazine that discusses about marriage and giving rings on the fourth finger. Intrigued about this idea, he asks you for your all four of your fingers, but you misunderstand and refuse to give him your fingers. He's sad but soon you later find out that he was asking for your hand in marriage, literally but also figuratively.

Mr. Machete

We would wonder aimlessly for an eternity together searching for his/your home. But eventually our subconscious would recognize each other as home instead.

He would definitely mock and laugh at how fast you would falter/melt under his touch. Calling you "weak" for coming so fast but would give kisses here and there after the mocking.

He'd probably be into throat fucking and laugh at you looking pathetic, he loves reactions that aren't boring, so seeing you choke on his cock seems like a great idea.

He definitely would come inside most of the time.

When he fucks you, his cock would probably bulge out a little from your stomach, fascinated by it he'd roughly press his hand down near that area.

He is our beefy dumb macho, perfect.

If you mouth/fucked him he would tell you he feels nothing, but his eyes would already be red and tearing. He's a pathetic coward.

Mr. Scarletella

He belongs to you, and you belong to him, together forever, in a hellish world. He loves the destruction you bring into his life and does the same for you.

Oh boy, he would absolutely devour you, his queen, in pleasure. Fuck you stupid to the point you're just a blabbering mess, hands on waist, and long fingers in your mouth, as he pounds deeply into you.

He seems like the type of guy to fuck you during your period.

Definitely gets jealous easily and he makes it know when he gets that way.

Imagine your fucked/fucking another ghost and you hear static within the distance, the sound slowly starts to come closer and closer until you hear the static in the room. Your crimson servant arrives and witnesses your fantastic display of intimacy. Jealous, he kills them and becomes extra possessive and quite terrifying, but you love it so much. How he seems so lost and pathetic without you.

You don't know his name, but neither does he know yours. Despite this disconnect, you still manage to give him some sort of other named to be called. It's connected to your name, but he knows it's not all of it, he can't fully whisk you away, but he's okay with that. You are still bound to him for an eternity anyway.

If Mr. Scarletella went back to the human world with you instead, he would appear to be the one most suited for fitting in. Just slack some foundation on his face, make him wear gloves and he would blend in quite well. Well...except for his odd habit of asking every stranger for their name and laughing and giggling crazily each time.

He would have a praise and degradation kink, he's not a whore. He's YOUR whore. He likes being YOURS.