#his burns were originally supposed to be hand shaped but that was really hard to draw

[black-and-yellow]

How much would it cost to see post lov Loudspeaker with all of his scars? I have shiny rocks and seashells

Doesn't take much to convince me to draw Loudspeaker. But give me your coolest rock.

[hp-hcs]

• smut (?) • like a record, baby [soulmate au]—poly! simp! mattheo riddle x poly! simp! harry potter x poly! gn! reader

hey sorry i fell off the face of the planet for like two and a half months i fell back into my old hyperfixation and started a new blog just for that and lowkey forgot abt this one and kinda fell out of the fandom lmfao anywhore—

inspired by that one Dead or Alive song

tws: sort of smut? it’s mostly implied and also like two sentences and also doesn’t involve the reader whatsoever?, lowkey bottom mattheo tbh, blink-and-you-miss-it reference to potential harry self harm :(, so fucking ooc omg

not edited if you see any mistakes shhh no you didn’t

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

If I, I get to know your name / Well, if I could trace your private number, baby

Mattheo huffed, resigned. It was official; he’d finally have to talk to Scarboy.

Eight years.

Eight years of avoiding the damn boy. Eight years of ignoring the sudden sharp pains that would slice across his forehead, right where Potter’s famous scar was. Eight years of waking up in the middle of the night from nightmares that weren’t his own.

His fingers reached down on instinct to mindlessly trace the prominent soulmarks etched into his wrist. His fingertips skated over the sprawling lightning bolt mark that twisted its way up his arm, its branching lines crossing over part of his faded Dark Mark.

His fingers then marched their way across his scarred skin to the other soulmark. It was an odd black circle with a smaller red circle inside, and an even smaller circle in the center. Thin white lines following the curve of the circular shape were intermittently drawn on the black part, giving it a ridge-like visual texture.

He had no fucking clue what it was supposed to be. Neither did his mother, the one time he’d worked up the nerve to ask her about it.

Potter might, a little voice in his head whispered. He was raised by Mudbloods. If it’s a Muggle symbol, he might know what it is.

Fuck. He really would have to get over himself and talk to Scarboy.

~~~

I, I got to be your friend now, baby

“It’s a vinyl.”

Mattheo paused. “What?”

“The mark. It’s a vinyl.” Harry pushed his glasses up his nose where they’d started to slip down. “It’s an old-fashioned way Muggles used to play music.”

“Music? Is it an instrument?” Mattheo asked, his eyes lingering for just a second too long on Harry’s slender fingers. Potter had taken the news of being Mattheo’s soulmate surprisingly well. He’d just shrugged and nodded, saying he already knew.

Mattheo looks between his and Harry’s exposed forearms. His skin itches to pull his sleeve down, to cover up the shameful mark of his father burned into his flesh for eternity. Harry’s arm is also scarred, but in a much different way. Both bear the same circular soulmark—the vinyl, as Potter had called it—although their other soulmarks differed. Mattheo’s was the obvious lightning bolt, while Harry’s was a cigarette, puffing out a cloud of smoke that formed the shape of a snake.

And I would like to move in just a little bit closer

“Sort of,” Harry answered his original question, doing his best to explain as his fingers tracing the identical vinyl soulmark on his own wrist. “It’s just a plastic disk. When you put it on a record player, it spins, and a little needle follows the grooves. It plays whatever music was recorded onto it.”

“Uh huh,” Mattheo hummed in acknowledgment a half-second too late, too busy focusing on Harry’s fingers. Had they always looked that good?

Harry smirked and reached over, lacing their hands together. Mattheo’s skin promptly heated up about ten degrees and the skin under his soulmark sizzled with a pleasant buzz before radiating a soft silver glow.

That’s it. They were together; now, until forever.

~~~

Mattheo’s legs shook, his teeth digging into his lower lip hard enough to bleed. “A-ah~ P-Potter—”

“Nuh uh.” The man in question, currently hidden underneath a library table, pulled off. “That’s not my name, and you know it.”

“Harry!”

“That’s it. Good boy.”

~~~

All I know is that to me / You look like you're lots of fun

They refused to call it the Yule Ball this year. After all, the war was over, there was no reason to continue separating Muggleborns and Purebloods with something as silly as a school dance.

So, much to the horror of many a Pureblood parent, Hogwarts was hosting Prom this year.

Open up your lovin' arms / Watch out, here I come

Harry was having a blast. Admin had insisted on only playing Muggle music at Prom, and it had been a wonderfully painful mix of *Nsync, Outkast, and Ricky Martin.

“You have to dance with me,” Harry demanded, pulling Mattheo out onto the dance floor by his arm.

Mattheo stumbled, still not used to the odd formal attire Muggles wore. (A tuxedo, Harry had informed him it was called.) Although he’d never say it aloud, he preferred the tux over his usual dress robes. So much easier to move around in; why were dress robes ever on the table as an option?

~~~

You spin me right ‘round, baby, right ‘round / Like a record, baby, right ‘round, ‘round, ‘round

You spin around in a circle with Hermione, both of you doing your best to teach Pansy Parkinson—Hermione’s soulmate—how to dance anything other than ballroom-style.

All three of you were laughing like mad, spinning around and around until you all got dizzy.

All three of you tried to stumble off the dance floor and back to the table you’d called dibs on earlier in the night. As you’re stumbling back, dizzy, you bump into a pair of men.

Suddenly, your outfit feels a lot stuffier than it did before. You feel hot all over.

One of the men grabs your bicep to try to steady you. His hands are slick with sweat. The other also looks rather warm, his face flushed. All three of you stare at each other as a bright silver glow emanating from three people’s wrists suddenly cuts through the dimmed lights of the dance floor.

I want your love.

[springgirlshowers]

hiii i hope you're doing well!! i saw that your requests are open so i wanted to ask you if you could write male reader taking care of clingy!joost while he's sick?

anyway thanks in advance <3

Sick Daze

Pairing: Joost x GN!Reader (no pronouns used!)

WC: 797

AN: i hope you don’t mind that this ended up being GN!reader, since reader is never called by any specific pronouns :p hope you enjoy!!!

What originally both Joost and you thought what was just him being jet lagged, really ended up with him catching a cold.

Once you took his temperature and realized 101° is not being jet lagged. You ushered him off the couch and into your comfortable shared bed.

He had been knocked out there for the past few hours. When you came to check in on him, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him, it took a minute for him to fully wake up.

“Hey, how’re you feeling?” You asked, rubbing his legs over the blanket.

“Mmm. Cold.” He mumbled, pulling the blanket up higher. You frowned at his messy state, hair sticking out all over the place and glasses crooked on his face.

“Here, take those off, it’ll be more comfortable.” You removed his glasses from his face, setting them down nicely on the nightstand. Finally being able to see his soft blue eyes.

“I know what else I could take off to be more comfortable.” He smirked at you, you rolled your eyes playfully.

“Oh my god, you’re sick.” You laughed at his suggestive tone.

“I am! I really am.” He pouted, putting your focus back to helping him feel better.

“What do you want me to do? Do you want me to cut-“

“Don’t.” He stopped you, pointing at you with a weak hand, “Do not make the onion joke. For the love of God, please do not.”

“Okay! Okay! I won’t!” You threw your hands up in defense. “How bout some tea instead? Chamomile?”

“Please. And can you put the honey in it like you always do?”

“Of course, liefje.” You smiled, pushing some hair out his face and then getting up.

“Hey! I’m supposed to be the one calling you that!” He giggled. You just grinned and left the room.

You put all your effort into making his tea the exact way he liked. Pulling the kettle out from the cabinets and waiting for the water to heat up.

Usually joost would just end up making his in the microwave, but he was sick, and you felt bad. And personally, you thought it always tasted better when it was made from the kettle on the stove.

Returning back to the bedroom, carefully holding one of his favorite mugs, which was shaped like the snorlax pokémon.

You held it with two hands, even though the conduction of heat was burning your finger tips.

Joost sat up and smiled, his eyes closing a bit. Gently taking the mug from you.

“My favorite.” He whispered, taking a sip from it and letting out a breath of satisfaction.

You weren’t happy Joost was sick, but you were glad he was finally getting some rest.

He was always taking care of you. Always working so hard. You were worried he was gonna work himself to exhaustion, or that he was pushing himself a bit too much. Joost assured you he was fine and happy doing what he did.

But, if he was happy that’s all that mattered.

He set the cup down on the nightstand next to you, as you began to stand up, Joost wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you back down and onto his chest.

“Heyyyy come on, stay with me.” He whined.

“I was gonna get you-“

“Stop worrying about me so much. I’m okay.” He nuzzled his nose into the side of your head, it tickled, and you let out a breathy laugh.

“I can’t help it. I don’t like seeing you unwell.”

“I feel perfectly well with you here.” If this was anyone else’s words, you’d roll your eyes and scoff. But this was your boyfriend, so you were allowed to love the cheesiness.

You turned your face to his, lips nearly grazing each other, but Joost moved his head back a bit, you frowned.

“I’m not gonna kiss you, only because I don’t want you to get sick.” You didn’t care, you were most likely already gonna get sick from being around him anyways.

“Then we’ll be sick together, and it’ll be your turn to take care of me.” You smiled, giving him a sweet peck on the lips.

Joost just let out a small hum, swaying you side to side with him.

“You want to lay down?” He asked you, head against yours.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” You said softly, moving away to tuck yourself under the blankets with him.

Joost shifted farther down, laying his head on your stomach and moving his hands comfortably under your back, letting out a pleased sigh.

You scratched his head, surely the both of you would fall asleep in the next ten minutes like this.

And you did, both felling perfectly well, and smiles on your faces.

[tartarusrising-rp]

OOC INFO

Name/Alias: Cris Pronouns: He/Him/She/Her Age: 27 Timezone: gmt-3

IC INFO

Character Name: Nikkolas 'Nikko' Stephens Character Age: 22 Character Birthday (with year): January 1th, 2002 Gender & Pronouns: Trans Man, He/Him Affiliation: Tartaturs Occupation: Dealer - College Student Faceclaim: Sophie Thatcher

BIOGRAPHY

TW: Near Death Experience, Violence, Child Neglect, Blood, Death, Car Accident, Drugs, Alcohol

Nikkolas Stephens wasn't supposed to survive ⸻ At least, that's what it feels like most days. He lives on borrowed time; from who, he will never know ⸻ The man from the river, perhaps, with his golden shining eyes watching every step Nikkolas takes. The complex web of near deathly encounters began when the boy was only a year old; tiny even for his young age, malnourished and with heavy lungs, Nikkolas was snatched from the clutches of the Church of the Lost during a raid the cult suffered. Adopted by Kiri Stephens, a figure larger than life in his eyes, Nikkolas grew up shielded from his origins, yet haunted by nightmares of things he couldn’t possibly recall. 

One dream stayed with him: the image of a man burning alive, seared into his mind for reasons he never understood. He often wakes up screaming, drenched in cold sweat, clawing at his own throat as if he can't get enough air into his lungs. 

In the years of his youth, Nikkolas had yet to suffer under the hands of a cruel fate out to get him ⸻ He was a sensitive kid, sweet and loyal to the point of fragility. He spoke too much, forgave too quickly, kindness dripped from his mud-stained fingers in tandem. It didn’t take long for life to shape him into the brittle, reckless creature he has become. At nine years old, he found himself bedridden with pneumonia ⸻ the doctors couldn't tell precisely how the kid got it; weeks of constant rain; his lungs already sensitive duo to his bad asthma; a cold swim in an outdoor pool ⸻ He hardly cares about the hows or whys, truly. All he remembers are key factors that stick with him these days; he thought, felt, and believed he was going to die. Everyone else around him was of the same mind. 

People who cheat death cannot escape its touch. 

At thirteen, when his smiles were turning into smirks and his words were beginning to be wrapped in sharp shards of glass, his past caught up to him ⸻ Of course, he doesn't know it was a fanatic member of the Church who changed the curse of his life ⸻ More than seventy percent of his hearing were lost in a cold winter day. Nikkolas doesn't talk about it ⸻ refused to, even then, with his head open and blood pouring like a waterfall. Is not lies, when he says he doesn't remember ⸻ his memory of the day are cloudy at best, and painful to think of. But he never spoke of being chased through the snow-covered streets of Boston, words of ‘returning’ and ‘lamb’ following his hurried steps. A mugging, cops believed, suspect ran away before anyone could catch him. 

Life wasn't the same, after. Adapting was hard enough for a kid his age, but the fear which filled his body seemed to make him freeze and panic at the most inopportune moments. Perhaps it is why he began gravitating closer to Tartarus ⸻ after all, fake arrogance could only get him so far, and there was no place safer than by his parents side. It is what he told himself at least, when his stomach began to tighten unpleasantly at the horrors Tartarus would commit. Much better than the Demons, he would often hear, or the Lost. He couldn't do much more than trail around the Stephens women curiously, uncharacteristically quietly, making a point of paying attention to what they were doing. 

It wasn't until he was eighteen that he began working under Kiri Stephens. He wished to so more heavy lifting, looking for mentorship in other places too ⸻ but his affinity for drugs tugged him towards the intricate world of fabricating it. He never called it a problem, despises the world addiction with a vicious force, but he can't really call it anything else. Not with how he lives. Not after the accident. 

It wasn't his fault ⸻ Nikkolas sat brightly and happy in the back seat of his friend's car, pleasantly high and drunk as they all returned from a party. They were twenty and free, wrapped in the fake notion youth made them immortal. Packed like sardines in a can, nothing could ruin their night. Until eyes got off the road, a pickup truck didn't turn its lights, and suddenly the car was turning and tumbling down the road. Seven people died that night ⸻ Nikkolas, the only survivor, died once on the way to the hospital after having to face the lifeless bodies of his friends. It wasn't his fault. The pickup driver was drunk, too, arguing with his girlfriend without paying attention to the road. It wasn't his fault. Their assigned driver had been the sober one in the group, a sharp mind even with the alcohol and chemicals in his system. It wasn't his fault. 

Then why couldn't he sleep at night? 

At his own decision ⸻ the only thing he ever asked for, begged and cried ⸻ Nikkolas was admitted to a recluse rehabilitation center. He couldn't face his own reflection in the mirror, and the drugs did nothing to help with the pain in his heart. A year spent in group therapies, tending to gardens, painting and clay sculpting to try take the edge of want and desire off ⸻ He promised himself he would never drink or smoke again. A promise he kept for three months after being rehabilitated ⸻ sent home with a chip and a pat on the back, proud of himself and the things he achieved. Three months until the urge and itch got to him. Working around drugs perhaps didn't help, but Nikkolas knows he would've fallen prey to their hold regardless. He has a weak mind. 

He keeps to himself, however, pretends everything is okay to his friends and family ⸻ that he is still clean. With the stress of the murder on everyone's shoulders, Nikkolas doesn't want to burden his family even more. But he knows it's just a matter of time until he messes up ⸻ His recklessness tends to get the best of him, after all.

[bus-stop-to-kpop]

Kingdom Reaction #3 - Valentines Date

Requested?: No

Word Count: between 210 - 270 each

A/N: Valentines Day is almost over but I still want to post this. Hope you like it :)

Happy Valentines Day (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) ~Admin J

Dann: Dinner Date

Dann invites you over for Dinner, promising to cook all your favorite foods. You can tell he's trying hard by how the table is already set up when you arrive. A new white tablecloth, scented candles and rose petals spread around it.

A promising scent is filling the air as you follow him to the kitchen. It's kind of funny seeing him rush around the kitchen making sure everything is going well, it's hard not to lose track of things in this kind of rush.

"Dann you already added salt to that one." You stop him from pouring salt into one of the pots. "Oh." He scratches his neck kind of embarrassed about his mistake. Honestly he's not a great cook but he wanted to try his best for you. "Let me help." You give him an assuring smile before taking the wooden spoon out of his hand and starting to stir the sauce.

Even though Dann wants to protest in the beginning you tell him it's way more fun to cook together than just watching him, so he gives in eventually and the two of you start preparing dinner side by side.

"Put this on. We don't want your clothes to get dirty. You look really pretty by the way." He helps you put on an apron over your outfit adding in a compliment he forgot to give you earlier because he was too focused on cooking.

In the end the two of you got to enjoy the delicious food you made together, the candles on the table slowly burning down as the evening moves on.

Arthur: Cinema Date

Arthur would be very sneaky about it, at first telling you he's busy with work there's no way he could schedule a Valentines Date. But that's just Arthur being the little tease he is, because he knows fully well he's gonna show up at your door later to pick you up for a surprise date.

You're shocked to see him standing there with a cheeky smile holding out a bouquet of flowers to you. At first you consider giving him the cold shoulder for making you sad about not seeing him on Valentines Day but the flowers are so pretty you give in.

"I thought you didn't have time for me?" You pouted as you took the flowers from his hand to put them in a vase. "You know I always have time for you." Arthur pulls you into a hug lightly swaying you from side to side.

"Look what else I got!" He pulls out two movie tickets from his pocket with a bright smile. You excitedly jumped, the last few weeks you had been telling him about how you wanted to go to the cinema again, since it's been quite a while.

Honestly you couldn't care less about what kind of movie you were watching. You were just happy you had Arthur right next to you, sharing popcorn and occasionally sneaking glances at each other, smiling like fools when your eyes met.

The original disappointment of thinking you had to spent Valentines Day alone completely forgotten.

Mujin: Painting Date

Mujin would want to do something artsy, at the end of the date he wants to have something he can look at and remember how much fun he had. So he takes you out to paint.

You're supposed to paint something that reminds you of him, just as he will paint what reminds him of you, but somehow you have no idea how to start. There are so many things that come to mind when you think of Mujin.

"Don't look!", Mujin screeches hiding his painting from your sight line. You laugh at his behavior, he's cute and now you're really curious about his painting.

You start your drawing by adding colors that remind you of Mujin and then using all your creativity to make shapes out of them. As you're starting to get really focused you're suddenly distracting by something wet on your arm.

Mujin is giggling at your surprised expression as you admire the little heart he drew with blue paint. "Oh you're gonna get that back." Dipping your pen into the red paint in front of you you draw a matching heart on his arm, he doesn't complain about it, he thinks it's cute you're matching now.

When you finally show your paintings to each other, your mesmerized by Mujin's painting. It's so pretty. Mujin thinks the same way about yours, as he looks at it with admiration. He'll definitely put this close to his bed so he can see it every morning.

Louis: Arcade Date

He wants to have a lot of fun with you, so he takes you to an arcade. No matter what kind of game it is he'll definitely try it out with you.

"I can't believe I lost again." Louis whines as he puts down the little plastic gun. You laugh patting his back to cheer him up. Your score significantly higher than his. "There's something wrong with the gun." He complains only making you laugh harder as you lead him away to a different kind of game.

The next game you play is a dancing game and suddenly Louis forgot all about his frustration of losing to you before as he mercilessly beats you at dancing. Even breaking the high score of the machine.

You play all kinds of other games before deciding it's finally time to go home. But you're not making it far as you stop just around the corner at a little claw machine. The little puppy plushies inside are too cute to ignore.

"They look like you." You point out to Louis who doesn't really see the resemblance but he can tell how much you want one of them and the way you excitedly hug him when he makes it after many tries is enough for him to forget about all the money he just spend.

Ivan: Café Date

You're going to your favorite café, which is holding an event for couples. Not only do you get a discount but you can also take Valentines Day themed pictures at the small photo booth they put up, plus they added some special foods and drinks for the event.

"Do you want to have the strawberry?" Ivan offers you the strawberry from his chocolate tart. You lean forward so he can feed it to you. Ivan's cheeks are glowing red a little embarrassed from the pda, but everyone else around you was busy with their own partners so what was the big deal?

Your eyes light up as you take the first sip of your drink "Oh my god! It's so good! You have to try this." You hold out the drink to him so he takes a little sip from the straw pointing towards him.

Ivan's heart skips a beat and he's unsure if it's because of the indirect kiss or because the drink really is as good as you told him.

The effect even small actions like this have on him flusters him, but it's also exciting and he hopes you have many more of these moments together, as he happily watches you dig into your own tart after offering him a bite as well.

Hwon: Animal Café Date

He takes you to an animal café. Deciding on the bunny one for this day. As soon as you walk through the door, both of you are gushing about the cuteness of the small animals hopping around. "They're so cute." You squeal shaking Hwon's arm excitedly.

The two of you decide to get some food to feed the animals, before getting something for yourself. It's adorable seeing how the tiny animals swarm around Hwon who seems like a giant next to them.

Hwon bends down to feed the bunnies and you can't help but sneak a picture of the interaction, before joining him. You're having such a great time playing with the bunnies you almost forget about your drinks that you put on one of the tables to make sure the bunnies wouldn't reach it.

That's until Hwon stands up to take a sip. "Do you want to drink too?" He asks. You nod, but gesture to the tiny bunny that had climbed on your lap to signal to him you couldn't stand up. Instead he brings you the drink, even holding it for you as you sip on it.

Before leaving you decide to buy some matching pink bunny ears from the café shop and the picture of Hwon surrounded by bunnies becomes your new lock screen.

Jahan: Home Date

The two of you decide to stay in for Valentines day being the most comfortable being alone with each other. Ordering all your favorite foods you have a great dinner.

Afterwards starting a round of Wii bowling. "How do you keep on getting Strikes? What's your secret?" You pout pointing at the Strike banner once again coming up on Jahan's turn. You're pretty sure you cant even close in on his score anymore, no matter how hard you try.

He laughs at your outrage before handing over the controller for your turn and sitting down to watch you play, "You have to turn your hand while throwing." He explains but there's still three pins standing after your try. They're standing in a literally impossible position.

After a few more rounds you decide it's enough competition and you settle down under a blanket on the sofa before pulling out Animal Crossing. You visit each others islands and show each other around explaining certain design choices and also the other presents.

There's some light music playing in the background as you cuddle closer into Jahan's side, you put down your switch a while ago now you're just watching him play. It's not much or anything special for a Valentines Date but it's a beautiful time for you because you get to spend it with Jahan.

[patt-writes-stuff]

Beach Days with The Genshin Characters!

Wc: 1.7k+

Type: Headcanons

CW: umm nothing except mentions of alcohol and maybe people being creeps? (None of the chars or you tho it’s very brief)

A/N: HI IM BACK FROM THE DEAD! These were supposed to be a lot shorter but I got too excited. If you by any chance wanna see some for your fav character lmk! I know it says request are closed in my bio but since it’s just hcs it’s a lot less (and I really enjoyed writing these so ajdhdhdk)

🔥Diluc:

This man cannot swim. Tell me otherwise, I dare you.

Kaeya tried to jokingly push him off a lil diving cliff area when they were kids.

He almost drowned. Kaeya was in a lot of trouble.

So, good luck getting this man to actually get in the water. The most he’ll do is sit on the shore where it’s very shallow.

He usually prefers to just stay under an umbrella on the sand and keep an eye on you.

Calls you every two hours in advance and helps you reapply sunscreen.

He’s very pale so I feel like he burns pretty easily, meaning he needs to reapply super frequently otherwise he will become a tomato. He brings like three bottles of the good shit. Tch, rich boy.

If you ask him to build a sandcastle, he will pretend to be annoyed but do it anyways. Ends up finding it kind of enjoyable.

He has the maids prepare a nice picnic basket for the two of you!! It’s got all your favorite foods plus grape juice cuz y’know.

If any creepy peeps approach you, don’t worry. He brought his vision and his claymore.

Of course, he won’t have to resort to such violent lengths. Everyone in Mondstadt knows who Diluc is and they probably know you’re his s/o, so they’re usually smart enough to mind their own business.

If they don’t, don’t worry. Diluc’s glare is more than enough to scare them away.

All in all I definitely recommend a beach day with him! I’ll give it a solid 8/10 (-2 for not wearing floaties and getting in the water with you or letting you teach him how to swim.

🖌Albedo:

You guys definitely 100% take Klee out with you on a beach day.

You guys bring snacks, beach toys like buckets and shovels for optimal sandcastle building, a picnic blanket, etc.

Jean definitely packs a lot more stuff for you guys to take with you than you actually need.

It’s only cuz she’s worried for Klee and is nervous about not being able to go with you guys though! It’s very sweet really.

Klee tries to bomb the fish and cause havoc at the beach 😭

I think Albedo is a good swimmer and gets in with you and Klee so that he can help her (which is very cute omfg)

He’s set total workaholic, as we know, so it took a lot of convincing to get him to put down his experiments and accompany you to the beach (however, he’s particularly weak to yours and klee’s puppy dog eyes so he caved eventually)

Though, looking at you and Klee happily building sandcastles and decorating them with pretty seashells of all shapes and colors, he can’t really find it in himself to complain.

He, of course, takes this opportunity to take out his sketchbook and draw the waves, seagulls, you… Of course he won’t let you see the sketch book no sir. He’s a bit embarrassed to be honest, but an artist such as himself recognizes beauty when he sees it so he simply had to draw you. (God I love him so much)

If a creepy person approaches you,- well don’t worry. The sight of a small arsonist child blowing up fish is enough to scare them away 🥰

At the end of the day, all three of you are all ticketed out. Albedo has to carry Klee back to Mondstadt because the poor baby fell asleep the moment you started drying her hair with the beach towel. You’re, of course, carrying back Dodoco and your bags. (You also manage to sneak a peak at Albedo’s sketchbook and find some very pretty drawings of you and Klee with your sandcastle)

At the end of the day, you guys tuck Klee in and read her a bedtime story (she woke up and insisted). Afterwards Albedo takes you back home and thanks you for coming with you and Klee (which you ofc say wasn’t a problem because how could you not???)

All in all? I’ll give it a solid 10/10. You’ve got tasty food, fun times, your boyfriend and his cute kid adoptive sister (yes I am very biased idc)

🦋Xiao:

I think it would take a lot of convincing to get Xiao to go out on a beach date with you.

He’ll probably see it as a distraction getting in the way of his slaying of monsters and demons.

However, he also worships the grounds you walk on (hehe, simp XD), so I don’t think it’ll take that much convincing on your part (especially because it’s is self appointed duty to keep you safe so if you insist on going with or without him, he supposes he’ll have to go)

Is definitely a bit tense at first. He doesn’t know how to let loose and chill so while you’re sun tanning on a beach chair he’s like 🧍‍♂️ahdgshjsjd

Eventually calms down a bit though! You get him to relax and eat some almond tofu you brought along with you. It definitely gets him to perk up.

I don’t think he would mind getting into the water but I do think he’d rather walk along the shore and collect pretty seashells and sea glass.

He later gives the ones he deems pretties to you (he hands them over to you with a blush on his face and pretends it’s not a big deal and he definitely gets all pouty and grouchy when you coo at how adorable he is)

As for creeps, Xiao is both intimidating and well known in Liyue. No one is brave enough (or, let’s be honest, dumb enough) to approach you with any bad intentions.

Sure, Xiao has sworn never to harm a human/citizen of Liyue but that doesn’t mean he can’t scare the absolute shit out of them.

I think Xiao would definitely enjoy a beach day 🥺🥺. He’d find it very relaxing to go out with you and just hear the sound of waves and feel the sand under his feet.

He’d definitely hint at wanting to do it again later. Of course, he won’t tell you. No, that’s a foolish mortal activity and he has much better things to do.

Wait no, don't turn around, yes he will go with you next month.

All in all, I give Xiao a 9/10. It’s a very relaxing day (which he deserves 😤). And you get to see a whole new side of him.

💎Ningguang:

OK SO ORIGINALLY I WASN'T GONNA WRITE ONE FOR HER (at least not in this post) BUT THEN I THOUGHT OF LADY NINGGUANG TAKING YOU TO A WHOLE ASS PRIVATE BEACH

She knows you don’t care about how exclusive the beach you go to is (in fact, the fact that you don’t care about where you are or what you do is one of the things that make her fall more and more madly in love with you) but you deserve the best so she’s gonna go all out.

She’s a busy lady so days like this where the two of you get to go somewhere and be together are few and far between.

She knows it’s hard to be in a relationship with someone who is busy 24/7, so she appreciates how you remain by her side despite all hardships. (Y’all are a whole ass power couple istg)

The two of you spend your day relaxing. Sun bathing, drinking piña coladas, maybe taking a dip in the ocean. It’s all very pleasant!

Ningguang doesn’t quite feel like the type of person who would sit in the sand and make sandcastle, however you’re more than welcome to make some yourself. She finds it endearing <3

If you insist on her helping, she’ll eventually comply. She loves you too much to say no. I feel like she’ll either be terrible at it or like a total architect.

Sand is technically like tiny rocks right? So maybe she can use her vision to help her? If that’s the case, she’s making a replica of the Jade chamber out of sand.

If any creepy person comes up to you don’t worry. Ningguang will buy the whole beach and then use her right of admission as owner to permanently ban them from the beach you’re at.

The only downside to a day at the beach with Ningguang might be that there’s a big chance she’ll be called to tend urgent matters, seeing as she is the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing and all.

If that does happen, she’ll be sure to make it up to you somehow, whether it be rescheduling or taking care of the matter as soon as possible so that the two of you can get back to your day of relaxation and fun.

All in all?? Lady Ningguang will treat you like total royalty and the two of you will have an amazing time! I give her an 11/10 (she would literally buy a whole beach for you to be comfortable I mean c’mon)

🍃Venti:

BEACH DAYS WITH HIM ARE SO FUN!!

Swimming? Yeah, he’d love to! Sunbathing? Sure! He’ll ever conjure up a light breeze for the two of you. Sandcastle building? WELL OF COURSE WHY DO YOU THING HE BROUGHT ALL THESE BUCKETS AND SHOVELS?

No but seriously, he might be the best person out of everyone here to go to the beach with. He’s fun, free spirited, and he’s a traveling bard who’s been alive long enough to know where all the best beaches in Teyvat are. (He also knows a guy- er, well, dragon I suppose- who is willing to fly them to any place).

He’ll play some soft tunes while you doze under the sun.

HE PICKS PRETTY SHELLS AND GIFTS THEM TO YOU!!!

He will bring booze. I’m pretty sure this is a necessity. If you’re a little upset about it, he’ll probably “eheh~” his way out of it. That slick bastard.

If you really insist on him not drinking, he won’t consume much alcohol.

If some creepy person approaches you and tries to ruin you your day of beach time fun, all of their stuff will suddenly be blown away, causing them to scramble back to their spot and (almost embarrassingly) flail around trying to catch everything. What a shame…

At the end of the day, he’d be a little sad to leave. Definitely makes plans about tbe two of you going back soon.

I gotta give him a 10/10 he’s just so fun omg.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 37

Shout out to @asongeverlasting for beta reading for me and making sure I actually got this out.

Check her writing out on AO3 as Ramblingwren

(Master post)

(Read the fic in a more condensed on Ao3)

(The latest chapter will be up on there once this reaches over 300 notes on tumblr)

_____________________________________________________________

Simularé looked out over the city from the top of the school.  Using her replicated powers, she took the form of Volpina so they'd be able to alter the illusion quickly should something pop out and accidentally reveal the true form of the school. Thankfully the sentimonster didn’t need to do much in order to maintain the illusion; Paris was a surprisingly quiet city.

As far as they could tell, no one in the city outside of the school had any idea what was going on. And that worked out perfectly for them.

“So, this is where Lila has you stationed,” a voice called out, resulting in the faux fox turning around. The figure behind them was a woman clad in dark blue, with blue skin and a feathery fan. She looked confident and the sentimonster instinctively felt that this individual was very much aware of what it was.

Mayura had quickly deduced it was the sentimonster as it was in Lila’s previous akuma form, Volpina. With Lila now Masquerade, it was unlikely she would choose to take such a form. She would likely want to stay in her new form to show it off.

“Do not be alarmed, Simularé, it is your creator. Mayura,” Mayura spoke again.

The shapeshifter leveled a sharp glare at the woman. What made her so certain of that?

“How do I know that is true?” Simularé questioned.

The villainess took a moment to examine the sentimonster. Mayura had to admit that this sentimonster was her finest work to date. The amount of emotion harnessed from Lila to create it made it far more unique, much less of a mindless creature than her previous creations. Amoks were created much like akuma were, locking on to intense emotions before sending off. But unlike akuma, amok can be shaped and tailored with enough focus. Simularé was a special case, as it was made from the conclave of emotions that Lila was experiencing during her breakdown. It had been quite difficult to focus on one specific feeling but Mayura had pushed through. Simularé was sculpted to be Lila’s ideal ally, but it was also so much more than a simple asset. This Amok embodied Lila’s core personality. Her cleverness, her cunning, her mistrust of others, her playfulness, her pride and so much more. To put it simply, this Sentimonster was Lila’s spirit given a new form.

“Trust me Simularé, you would be best not to ask that,” Mayura warned.

The sentimonster felt as if it was being talked down to and clearly did not approve of anyone talking to them in such a tone, save for its master. It charged at the peacock villainess, ready to make contact, But, before it could get close, Mayura stuck out her hand and pinched her fingers together, causing the sentimonster to feel as if some force was pulling its essence out. The pain it felt was indescribable! It felt as if its very being was being ripped out. Mayura was in range to sense the Amok and could easily remove it without difficulty, much like Hawkmoth could with an akuma. Though Mayura had a feeling that letting the Sentimonster know that keeping her out of range of the item was the key to its survival would not be wise. It was best in this moment to display power.

“Stop! Please!” Simularé begged. “I … I believe you! I will do whatever you ask, just please stop the pain!”

The villainess smiled, it seemed there was even more to this Sentimonster than Mayura had anticipated. It had a powerful sense of self preservation, something controlled sentimonsters didn’t seem to have. She took note of that.

“Good. Now, you are going to explain to me your master’s end goal and where Ladybug and Chat Noir are in the building.”

Simularé felt the grip that Mayura had on its essence and held back its burning resentment towards the blue bird villainess. She would behave. For now.

“Okay… I will tell you everything.”

_____________________________________________________________

“Duck!” Ladyice called out as she had Ice Noir lower their bodies to avoid oncoming ice projectiles.

“Surprising that she's only attacking us with ice. She's Stormy weather. You'd think she would be attacking with more, maybe some rain or like a vol....” Ice Noir commented.

“Don't talk about that! Do not give her any ideas!”

The two had skated out of the room and made their way through the now icy hallway while Stormy Weather gave chase.

“I was just saying it seems weird how...mediocre her attacks are.

“It’s like we saw before, the akuma servants are like robots, they can’t react quickly so changing up her powers is likely just as much of a problem. She's probably not as dangerous as we initially thought.”

“So maybe we should face this problem head on now that we aren’t cornered?”

Ice Noir changed direction and began skating towards the umbrella-wielding akuma.

Stormy Weather noticed the approaching cat and raised her umbrella, creating a mighty gale to blow him back and ending him flying past Ladyice to the end of the hallway.

“She can use her other powers… can confirm,” Ice noir commented as he got off the wall, still dazed.

Ladyice skated up to the dazed cat and helped stabilize him. Despite seeming like a wasted effort, the cat’s brash antics actually inspired Ladyice with a way to take her out.

“I just figured out how we can stop her, think you can give her one last charge for me?”

“Why Bugaboo, asking me to rush headfirst into danger? How heartless.” He feigned hurt.

Ladybug rolled her eyes.

“Silly Kitty. Just be ready to hang in there when she blasts you with wind. Don’t get blown back this time.”

“Got it.”

Ice Noir quickly skated across the ice as he drew his weapon. He was ready for her this time.

“Hey breezy weezy! The weather today was supposed to be sunny with a 20% chance of raining Cats and Dogs!” Ice Noir called out, clearly happy with his lame joke.

Stormy Weather saw the cat approaching once again and prepared to send another wind blast at him.

But the cat was prepared this time around and extended his staff to anchor himself to the walls on either side.

“Nice try!” Ice Noir snarked. “But a small little puff of wind won't blow me back again.”

The storm akuma decided instead of creating just another wind blast, she was going to step it up with a cyclone attack! A powerful tornado tunnel would surely blast the cat down for good.

“We were wrong! She can amp up the power too!” Ice Noir exclaimed as he held onto his staff with all his might while his body was being blown back by the massive winds. “This was not well thought out!”

He focused on digging his claws into his staff and doing his best to remain in the wind tunnel. The powerful winds blew into his face and he could see Stormy Weather slowly approaching.

“I don’t think I can hold on much longer, Ladyice!”

He felt his grip slipping. Any second now, he was going to get blown back.

“Don’t worry, Kitty. I got this.”

Stormy Weather didn’t get a chance to react when she felt something tackle her full force and rush her into the wall on the opposite end of the hallway.

The wind died down and Ice Noir was able to land on his skates. He released his grip on his staff and fixed his windblown hair to resemble its original state before quickly skating down the hall to help his partner.

“Nice job, Ladyice.”

The red-clad heroine stood up from her grapple with the storm akuma.

“Actually…”

Ice Noir looked up to see that his partner had shifted power ups. Her skates and ice skater aesthetic were replaced with a suit that had red spacesuit-like plating, a jetpack with retractable wings with red and light blue colors that matches her helmet.

She had changed into her space form, Cosmobug.

“Space power up! Because you can fly through the wind! Genius!”

Cosmobug smiled.

“Well, Stormy Weather is dazed but probably not for long.”

The two heroes noticed her about to grab her umbrella, but Chat Noir’s cat-like reflexes helped him snatch it first.

“Oh no you don’t!”

Ice Noir broke the umbrella over his knee.

“I don’t think she will be as mobile without her powers.”

Stormy Weather tried to stand but slipped on the icy floor she had created.

“Let’s just make our way to the boss,” Cosmobug said. She used the jet on her back to swoop up Ice Noir and fly slowly down the icy hall.

“Just like you to sweep me off my feet. But don’t think I will be a smitten kitten like usual.”

“Oh? Is that so?” The bug heroine raised an eyebrow. “It’s hard to imagine that you haven’t been dreaming about this scenario.”

“It helps that you aren’t riding a horse with the wind blowing in your hair,” Chat Noir joked back, catching Ladybug’s teasing.

Cosmobug quickly moved them to a part of the hall where there was no ice. Both undid their potion transformations, reverting back to their usual hero forms.

“Not keeping the jetpack?” Chat Noir asked. “It is really cool.”

“The room halls are pretty limited, and there's not much mobility, otherwise I might have,” Ladybug confessed.

The two heroes took a moment to catch their breaths and figure out their surroundings.

“We should thank Stormy Weather.”

The cat looked at his partner skeptically, remembering how a few minutes ago, the wind had nearly sent him flying through a brick wall.

“What makes you say that?”

“Lila probably had Stormy Weather out and about to flush out other people in the school and make sure the area was difficult to traverse. She likely sent out a bunch of other akuma to do the same, which means her forces are scattered and we have a better shot of dealing with her with fewer obstacles.”

Chat Noir nodded. He would not have deduced such a thing from one encounter with a weather akuma.

“Good to know, so the plan is to locate her and save the day.”

“No need to figure out where she is, I already have a good idea where she should be.”

Chat Noir noticed Ladybug had already started moving. He quickly followed behind, though he didn’t need an explanation this time. He already knew where Ladybug was heading — to his homeroom class, but he couldn’t say that without revealing what he knew.

_____________________________________________________________

‘This was a ridiculous decision.’

That was the thought running through Chloé’s mind as she ran for her life from a large group of Reflekta clones.

The two or three she had run into early were easy to avoid, but now it seemed like a horde of those tacky clones. And all of the ice that surrounded certain hallways made it impossible to traverse. She was limited in her running space and she was running out. But what made it all worse was that now those Reflekta copies had adjusted to running.

“HOW CAN YOU RUN IN THOSE HEELS!?” Chloé screamed as she ran down the hall.

She just had to try and be a hero. Why was she even doing this? The assistant probably got turned into one of those gross clones or got masked like those other students. She could have just sat back and just waited for Ladybug and Chat noir to find her or let them handle it.

“You can’t run forever” The crowd of clones sang in Rather impressive and creepy harmony.

Chloé took a turn down the hall and went into the door of the nearest room.

She closed the door and locked it before smelling the musty wet air.

“What the… EWW!” She spat in disgust as she realized she had locked herself in a janitor’s closet.

“Why did it have to be in such a gross smelly room?” she moaned.

Unfortunately, her comments caught the attention of the crowd chasing her.

She heard banging on the door.

“You can’t hide, we will find.”

Chloe put her back to the door to keep them out and felt herself slide down it in despair.

Was this how it was going to end? Getting turned into one of those fashion nightmares after hiding out in such a rank smelling closet? She didn’t even save… wait. She did save someone. She saved that old man. It hadn't been glamorous, but she did manage to save at least one person.

“I guess I did do something good after all. May not have been exceptional… but it was something.” Chloé smiled for a brief moment.

She took a moment to look at the positives, Ladybug and Chat Noir would likely come in and save the day, plus there were those other two heroes. Perhaps that would be enough. But she had to admit, finding solace in that was getting harder to do when the smell of the closet was destroying her nostrils. Just then, she remembered she had some nice perfume in her bag that she could spray to alleviate the smell.

“Well, at least I won’t smell awful when they capture me.”

She put her hand in her bag and felt around for her perfume. As she searched, she felt an unfamiliar object in her designer handbag. She pulled it out.

“What is this?”

She noticed a note on top of it. It was a bit dark to read so she pulled out her phone and turned on her flashlight.

“Return to Ladybug after mission?”

Chloé’s eyes went wide. Could this be what she thought it was? How was it possible? She didn’t have time to question it.

She opened the box and out came a floating bee creature, who Chloé recognized right away. It was real.

“Pollen!” Chloé exclaimed with cheer.

“It has been a while, my queen.” the bee kwami said.

Chloé would have loved to revel in this moment more but she knew that door was going to burst open any minute. She needed to be the bee heroine.

“As much as I would love to talk more, we need to hurry. We have some akuma clones that need bashing.”

“Right away, my queen!”

Chloe put the bee miraculous in her hair.

“Pollen, Buzz on!”

_____________________________________________________________

“It is a good thing there are so many copies,” Ryuuko stated as she leaped over a few Reflekta copies.

Viperion swerved and dodged the replicas of his sister’s akumatized form while avoiding getting caught in the bubbles that froze them and floated them up in the air.

Deadzone had been doing a lot of friendly fire thanks to its single minded obsession.

“After this, I really hope I never have to see my sister take this form again,” Viperion commented.

“Right, Adrien mentioned that you were Juleka’s brother. Older brother, right?”

“Older twin brother. But yes.”

“Really? You seem older.”

“I am a grade ahead of her, but we are the same age,” he explained.

“Could have sworn you were at least a year or two older.”

“A lot of people think the same thing. Even my mom forgets, sometimes. Rose, my sister’s girlfriend, says I radiate ‘big brother energy’ or something.”

“You learn something new.”

“What about you? Any siblings?”

“Sadly no. I was an only child.”

“Too bad, I think you would have made a great older sister,” Viperion encouraged

“A snake charmer, are we?”

“Well I am the snake, and I am not charming myself, so I think the more correct term would be dragon charmer.”

“Change that to fun killer because you killed my fun right there.”

Before Viperion could retort, they had made their way down to the end of the hall and noticed that it was frozen off.

“Dead end,” they say at the same time.

“No, Deadzone.”

The two turn to see the deadly akuma amalgamation pointing its blaster at them.

The two heroes looked at the deadly akuma.

“Any ideas?” Ryuuko questioned.

“Just one.”

Viperion moved his hand to his bracelet.

“Second chance!” Viperion activated his power.

“Now we have some options.” Viperion explained.

The akuma fired a bubble blast at Ryuuko, and she was frozen.

“Second chance!”

Things reset to how they were a few seconds before. Viperion grabbed Ryuuko and pulled her out of the way of the oncoming bubble blast.

“Thanks. For a minute there, I thought that thing had me.”

“It did, but I used my power to stop that. we still have to get out of here.”

“Look out!”

Ryuuko got hit with another bubble as they got up, protecting him from an attack.

“This might take a few attempts…”

_____________________________________________________________

Hawkmoth paced inside his lair.

Mayura was out there, his son was out there… and things were not going the way he planned. Masquerade seems to be building a base for herself and was more concerned with that than getting the miraculous. Adrien is MIA, and Mayura isn’t responding.

“I might need to step in. But there is a lot of risk in this. Far too many variables that I can't account for”

Hawkmoth never liked leaving his lair. It had too many risks to it. After Heroes' Day, he had nearly been exposed. And after that fiasco in Shanghai he didn’t want to risk getting taken out by his own akuma. He had already taken plenty of risks that had blown up in his face. Would this be another one of those times he would need to risk his miraculous?

“But it could also be just what is needed to beat Ladybug and Chat Noir once and for all.”

With an akuma this powerful, the two would likely have to use their special powers multiple times. If he can just locate them and wait for them to do so, he could potentially gain the advantage. Maybe Mayura was on to something with her actions.

Hawkmoth walked to the window.

“There will be a right time. I just need to wait for it.”

He felt an itch in the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure what it was but he could tell one thing, something big was going to go down, and he needed to figure out the right call soon or it could cost him dearly.

_____________________________________________________________

“…And that’s her plan.” Simularé finished. “As for Ladybug and Chat Noir… I am unsure. I lost track of them before I was given a new assignment. But they are in the building and they have not tried to leave.”

Mayura smiled at the information. While it was quite unfortunate that she didn’t have the exact location of the two heroes, it was good to know that they were still in the building, and Lila’s plan was certainly something interesting.

“Indeed, that is quite a clever plan. Ensuring everyone in the school couldn’t escape was pretty smart. You likely had a few escapes anyway, with how clumsy some of the akuma were. You are fortunate that neither one was Ladybug or Chat Noir. Still, though, it isn’t your master’s fault for that. They are basically mindless puppets. But then again, it seems that there might be zero escapes since there seems to be no new reports on the subject of a school takeover.”

Simularé let the peacock villainess muse, analyzing her movements as if trying to figure out any advantage it could handle.

“So, the next step now that all communications are cut is to send out a message that Ladybug and Chat Noir have already been defeated, so as to cause massive despair in order to create even more minions. Sounds a bit derivative, don’t you think?” Mayura mused.

Simularé said nothing. It held its tongue. Deep down, it knew that starting any dispute with this peacock was not wise. Especially given that crazy power she had over their being.

“Still, it is quite a plan. And with all those extra akuma recruited and Ladybug and Chat noir cut off from their guardian, they wouldn’t be able to get any sort of back up. They wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight before all of Paris is under Masquerade’s thumb. I approve of the plan.”

“I am glad you do,” Simularé stated with a forced smile.

Their conversation was cut short when an akuma appeared. Seeing one it did not recognize, the artist akuma prepared to fight. But thankfully the shapeshifting sentimonster stepped in.

“Stand down Evillustrator, this one is not our enemy,” Simularé ordered.

Evillustrator eased and walked over.

“Masquerade has ordered that we start reinforcing the building. She wants this place to be like a fortress,” he parroted.

Mayura looked at the artist.

A fortress? Yes, Simularé mentioned that Masquerade wanted to reinforce the school so that she could ensure Ladybug and ChatNoir would have less chance of escape.

Simularé nodded at the akuma servant.

“Alright, so she wants us to drop the illusion, then?”

“She wants the place to be like a fortress.”

“Go ahead and start,” Simularé motioned. She figured that her master likely didn’t care about the illusion much as she was prepared for stage two. But she would maintain it for a bit.

The akuma moved to the end of the roof and begins working to reinforce the walls

Mayura began moving to the door of the roof to get back down into the school.

“Tell your boss I will be heading to her, and she best be welcoming,” Mayura ordered.

“As you command,” Simularé replied, hiding a large amount of anger and resentment towards the blue bird.

As soon as the blue peacock is out of sight.

Simularé contacts its master.

“Simularé, what is going on? Did Evilustrator reach you?”

“Yes. He is working to make this place a fortress. You want me to maintain the illusion, right?”

“I am about to go public shortly. After I make the announcement. Drop the illusion and make sure this place is a full-on fortress. After that is done, report back to me.

“Yes master. By the way, I had an idea.”

“Oh?”

Simularé smiled sinisterly. She was going to show Peacock why she was sorely mistaken.

“I will report the details to you shortly.”

_____________________________________________________________

“Everything is set up,” Robostus noted.

“Excellent. Let’s do it now.”

The Reflekta camera crew was all set, and Gamer had set it up so the moment they went live, every screen in Paris would show Masquerade.

Masquerade got off her call with Simularé. Something seemed a bit off with her sentimonster but she was intrigued that she had a plan.

“We are live in 5….4…3….2…” the gamer stated before pressing the go live button.

Masquerade smiled.

“Good afternoon, citizens of Paris. You may not know who I am, but don’t worry! You will be very familiar with me very soon. I am Masquerade, and I have decided to make Paris my personal kingdom.”

She paused to let that sink in.

“Now you are likely very alarmed by this declaration and that is normal. It will only be a matter of time before I spread my influence to everyone in Paris.”

She paused to let her words hang in the air before continuing.

“Do not be afraid, I am no monster. I plan on being a fair leader. All I ask is for your undying admiration and absolute loyalty. After that, you are free to live your lives as you normally would. Do not resist and you will have no problems. However, if you do… well, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Masquerade took a calm breath before finishing.

“This last message goes out to the heroes of Paris, Ladybug and Chat Noir. I know you are here, I know you believe you will stop me, and I know you have allies here. But you will fall to me. Your days of superheroing have come to an end, your miraculous will be taken from you, and I will expose you as the failures you are,” Masquerade finished with venom.

She ended the transmission.

“Now make sure that it is being looped,” she ordered.

“Already is,” Gamer confirmed. “And panic is starting to rise.”

Masquerade smiled. Her plan was already working.

It may have seemed like a simple ego boost, but that speech of hers was a crucial part of her plan. Her charm bracelet could hyper focus on anyone that was akumatized in the past and have their biggest insecurities exposed. But that one by one process took far too long, if the hope of the entire populace of Paris was already demoralized. Then all she needed to do was send out her masks and let them take hold. And all she needed to do was go out there and send the masks.

She could already feel massive amounts of negative emotion from outside of the school. As soon as she headed out of the school, she could easily go and get more akuma soldiers. She could feel her bracelet trembling with all the potential additions.

She was prepared to leave, activating one of the charms to give her black angel wings, but something she remembered caused her to stop.

“Simularé I am moving to phase two of my plan. Get down here.”

It only took a few seconds for the sentimonster to jump from the roof and knock on the window.

One for the Reflekta copies opened the large window to let in what appeared to be Dark Cupid, before it shifted into the phantasm form that was its base.

“Right on cue. So, what is this plan you wanted to suggest?” Masquerade inquired. “And be sure it is not a waste of my time.”

“What if I told you I could get you a Miraculous?”

The sentimonster could feel that Masquerade was very pleased with that idea.

_____________________________________________________________

37 attempts.

It took thirty-seven resets before Viperion figured out what they needed to do.

“Ryuuko, follow my directions exactly,” Viperion instructed. “I know how to win.”

He quickly pulled her towards him to make sure she dodged the first bubble.

The akuma was surprised by the avoidance.

Viperion smiled.

“Your next line is, ‘How did you know I was going to blast at her?'” Viperion stated confidently.

“How did you know I was going to blast at her?” Deadzone parroted in shock before realizing they had said exactly what Viperion had said they would say.

The dragon heroine looked at the determined expression of the snake. She could see experience and certainty in his posture. All her years of fencing taught Kagami the art of reading body language, and the hero in front of her was someone that exuded an aura of confidence. She knew she could trust him.

“Alright, Sassy Snake, I will let you take the reins.” Ryuuko responded.

“Jump to the left in 2 seconds and start running.”

Ryuuko followed the instructions and sure enough avoided yet another bubble attack from Deadzone.

“Head to their left and bounce off the locker at the end.”

Ryuuko dashed past the akuma and jumped as Viperion instructed, perfectly avoiding the barrage of blasts sent her way. Viperion had perfectly mirrored her motion as he explained the next steps.

“Now somersault twice and draw your sword.”

Ryuuko somersaulted as Viperion leaped over her and the dragon turned to draw her sword, now on the other side of the hall.

“Now as soon as it fires a bubble at you, activate your wind! No matter what! I believe in you Ryuuko.”

The last words seemed a bit strange to the fencer. What did he mean by that?

“Will you shut up!?” Deadzone shouted before sending a bubble at Viperion.

“For my final glimpse into the future, you will say, ‘Not so tough now are ya?'”

The bubble contacted Viperion.

“Viperion!” Ryuuko cried out.

The bubble enveloped the snake and floated to the ceiling, taking his frozen form along with it.

“No…” Ryuuko muttered. She looked down in sorrow.

I failed to protect him. He ended up protecting me. He had been backing me up to make sure I wouldn’t do anything reckless.

Ryuuko felt her mind flashback to a few days ago which now seemed almost like it happened a year ago. They had made such a good team back then and now… they get a chance to be heroes again and she couldn’t cover him like he did her.

“Ha, not so tough now are ya?” Deadzone stated with confidence.

Ryuuko’s ears perked up at the statement. That was the line Viperion predicted they would say. That means… Viperion knew this would happen! Which meant his previous statement was to show he planned this. She knew what to do.

Deadzone turned its attention to Ryuuko.

“Don’t worry, you will join him shortly.”

Deadzone fired another bubble right at her, but this time Ryuuko wasn’t moving. She was at the perfect distance to do what she needed to do.

Ryuuko smiled.

“Wind dragon!”

The dragon-themed heroine turned into a cloud and blew the bubble right back at the akuma.

“What!”

The bubble encapsulated the akuma, causing it to freeze in place and then float to the ceiling.

Ryuuko returned to her original form and smiled, seeing how they had finally incapacitated the akuma.

“We did it, Viperion. We took them down. I'm sorry it cost you so much… I won't let you down!”

She raised her blade, upon realizing that her partner was indeed trapped in a bubble.

“Wait a minute…”

Ryuuko walked underneath Viperion’s bubble. She wasn’t entirely sure if this would work, since akuma magic was weird and often unpredictable, but it would make a lot of sense if it did.

“It is a bubble, so this should work right?” Ryuuko questioned as she used the tip of her sword to touch the bubble. She pushed it forward a bit causing the bubble to pop.

Her partner dropped to the floor.

“Ugh… my head.”

“You’re okay!”

Ryuuko hugged her friend, but then realized her sudden action and quickly jumped back up. A bit flustered, she could swear Marinette was rubbing off on her.

“I am glad you are alright, friend. You had me concerned — slightly,” Ryuuko corrected herself.

Viperion was surprised by the quick motions but managed to steady himself.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. But make it quick, we will need to get a move on.”

“Okay… Who am I?”

Ryuuko froze at the question. She could see the confusion on his face. He was completely serious.

“Oh… that is not good at all.”

_____________________________________________________________

Masquerade is on phase two of her plan and Simularé is starting to make waves.

Who will get to the akuma first, Mayura or our heroes.

What will happen to Viperion now that his memory is gone?

Will Queen bee be the right choice?

Reblog and Comment . Your support is invaluable in keeping this fic alive. And I love hearing your thoughts on it

[marquisegallery]

SO HEY, DISCLAIMER! This is all very old art from like 2019!! The reason I’m reposting these is because, if you’ve seen my last post, I’m in the process of moving from DeviantArt to InkBlot. And I realized a few of my older drawings were only posted to here as thumbnails... why did I ever thinks that was a good idea. :u

Anyways, now posting the full art for at least some of those thumbnail pics, mainly to keep as a backup here on Tumblr. These are old and wonky enough that I don’t really feel like keeping them on InkBlot too. But I still want to keep them for reference for my Maddy and Match fan kids of course. So yeah! :P

And bonus drawing of figuring out alternate outfits for Maddy, and a silly pic with TorchMan and ColorMan, because why not, I got room here.

Also including the descriptions from their original DeviantArt uploads under the cut here for reference as well.

(Pic 1, the family photo)

Behold as I draw something super self-indulgent and silly! Match and Maddy with children! Admittedly this is the first time in a long while that I've tried to draw children, and I'm not sure if the proportions really look right...? Ah well, at least that's something I can keep in mind to practice. :P A friend mentioned that Maddy's outfit on another pic I did (the alternate outfits one) seemed kinda like a mom outfit, so that's Maddy's designated mom outfit now. And I guess Match's outfit here can be his designated dad outfit! Not sure what it is about button down shirts that exude dadness, but I'll roll with it. Anyways, the kids! From left to right, Akihoshi, Eilionoir, and Cináed (who goes by Kentaro because no one can pronounce his real name xD ). I will be doing pics of them as adults/with their Navis and explaining them a bit more there. For now I hope this kinda gives an idea of each of their personalities! (Also, fun fact, Akihoshi is obviously the youngest, but Eilionoir is the actual oldest of the three. Kentaro just ends up growing up to be much taller than everyone else, ha ha)

(Pic 2, Eilinoir, the oldest child and only daughter)

So continuing from my last pic of a fanmade set of kids for Maddy and Match, a pic of their eldest as an adult! And with her Navi! Basically inheriting HeatMan from her dad (who exists separately from TorchMan due to Reasons that I will hopefully get into with the comics I'm planning to do, I promise ^^; ) Starting with her name, Maddy insisted that Match pick out Scottish names for them because she thought it'd be really cool. With Match not actually being Scottish in my story set up (this will hopefully come up at some point, but basically my headcanon is that his family has at least one Scottish ancestor somewhere down the line due to the red hair and all, but his family is basically Japanese people faking a Scottish accent at this point :P ), he just looked up some names and picked what looked good. On that note, neither Maddy nor Match know how "Eilionoir" is supposed to be pronounced anyways, but since it's a Scottish form of Eleanor, they just pronounce it the same as Eleanor. Ellie herself eventually insists it's pronounced "Ellie-noir" (like the French word for black) to make it sound fancier! :D Anyways, basically, all of Maddy and Match's quirkness/weirdness as afterschool cartoon villains went into Ellie. She's very wild and can also be creepy at times, but overall is still a good person (at the least, she doesn't get tempted to be a villain like most people would have expected). Especially when it comes to her family, you better not mess with them! She loves fire, knives, and masks (and has a collection of the latter two), and works as an intern Net Agent before eventually becoming a chef. Also she gets along great with HeatMan, especially when it comes to burning up losers! ... I am still iffy about how HeatMan's right hand turned out, but then again, with his robotic/unusual shapes, it's hard to tell how some things could look at a certain angle. @_@; I did my best! And at the least I can say I love how Ellie's pose turned out. :D EDIT: I forgot to mention when I first posted this, Ellie's gloves are specifically meant to be what's called "weighted-knuckle glove", which is more or less a combination of gloves and brass knuckles. Extra punching power!! 

(Pic 3, Kentaro, the middle child and oldest son)

And now the middle child! Kentaro, with FlameMan as his Navi! (Who also exists separately from TorchMan and HeatMan in my little story thing, so yeah :P ) His real name is Cináed (pronounced kinda like "Ken-Ahj") and is another case of Maddy making Match find a Scottish name for their kid. In this case, the name ends up so confusing for other people to pronounce, that the kid himself just ends up changing it to Kentaro. Plus he went by Kentaro and Ken as nicknames anyways (based on how his original name was pronounced), so it worked out in the end. Kentaro is much more calm and 'normal' compared to Ellie. He's quiet, though not in a shy sense, just more "Doesn't like talking if he doesn't need/want to". He's also the tallest, taller than his parents, and even compared to someone like Count Zap (who is listed as being around 6'1" in the BN Complete Works book, fun fact  ). Maddy and Match aren't sure how that happened, but they love their son just the same. He eventually becomes a fantasy novelist (his own mom ends up being one of Kentaro's biggest fans. xD ), and had FlameMan modified/reprogrammed to be able to act as his editor and proofreader (with a vast knowledge of grammar rules, cliches to avoid/be aware of, etc). This comes in exchange for some attack power, but FlameMan doesn't mind much, since Kentaro himself isn't much for Netbattling, while FlameMan himself has kinda-sorta 'retired' from battling after going through the Battle Network 3 stuff. That doesn't mean he's not strong and can certainly put up a fight if he has too, he's just not at the same level of fire power (haha) he was back then! ... now onto the drawing itself, man, FlameMan is yet another one of those Navis that you can't quite figure out how the hell he's supposed to look from different angles. His legs and the fire sockets in his body really don't help either!! You can tell I got lazy with said fire sockets, but at the least I think I did well on getting his legs to look right. :u Also still kinda iffy about how Kentaro's hands turned out. Should they be a bit bigger for someone his size? I kept debating on that while drawing this, but I didn't want to end up giving him hands that were too big at the same time. And a bonus, the colors of Kentaro's shirt and pants are based off of the outfit Match wears in BN2! Slightly changed the colors a bit though. Also, his hoodie is based off of one I have myself! Just with different colors and rings on it. :D Edit: Oops, forgot to put in the characters Kentaro picks for his name. Strong/healthy (健, 'ken'), big (太, 'ta'), and son (郎, 'ro'). Kinda straightforward and literal, though that makes it easier for people to remember his name.  xD Also, I think the "ro" character can also be written as "rou", though I am not sure if that makes too big of a difference in pronunciation? 

(Pic 4, Akihoshi, the youngest child and youngest son)

Okay, I have a bunch to explain here (and even then I can't go into too much detail with spoiling a story I wanna draw :P ) but let's get started with Akihoshi himself. The last and youngest of Maddy and Match's kids, Akihoshi! Match insisted that they give this kid a Japanese name this time, compared to the other two. xD Akihoshi's name is spelled with the characters for autumn (秋, 'aki') and star (星, hoshi). He's naturally anxiety prone and in general tends to worry more than most people do. Not because of any terrible event, he just ended up unluckily having anxiety problems (he gets better eventually though, mainly thanks to his parents (after making it clear they aren't mad at him for it and just want to help) and making sure he gets therapy and medication). Once he gets a handle on that, he goes on to be a teacher like his parents! In my little story timeline they're both teachers. :P Also, his Navi is... NovaMan! Who is basically a reprogrammed (kinda) StarMan. Much more cheery and carefree than Akihoshi, and is fairly essential in making sure his operator got through the day during his earlier years (while Akihoshi was learning how to handle his anxiety problems), and generally helps Akihoshi look on the bright side of things! And can also be very scary if anyone dares to give Akihoshi a hard time... So with NovaMan, getting into too much specifics would be spoilers for his origin story chapter. But basically, in my story-set-up-thing, StarMen are generic Navis used for satellite control/maintenance. NovaMan was originally a regular StarMan who got his memory and personality wiped due to Reasons, but eventually gets better thanks to Maddy and Match and their Navis saving him, in a way. Also he's basically ColorMan and TorchMan's son, and refers to them as Pa and Dad respectively. They were kinda weirded out by the idea of being parents at first (especially since, really, it was NovaMan who decided they were his parents :P ) but they got used to it. They're proud dads now! :D For the art itself, ahh, this was so much easier to draw than the other two! You can probably tell by how quickly this is being submitted since Kentaro's pic. Then again, it helps that NovaMan was SO much easier to draw compared to FlameMan and HeatMan. :P Anyways, overall pleased with how this turned out, yay! :>

(Pic 5, Maddy outfits)

This is for the comic idea I'm planning for, but this is admittedly like... something that probably won't appear in the comic for a looong time.  :P But anyways, I'm trying to decide on a new outfit for Maddy, something more casual/civilian? Well, her main outfit is kinda like that already but ehh. So the basics I decided on are: shirt-with-puffy-sleeves, capri pants, and... how would you describe these kinds of shoes? I don't know much shoe terminology, I just wanted to make shoes that look comfortable to wear and walk in. Oh, also the glasses are a constant here. There's some concept art of Maddy where she's wearing glasses, so I imagine she does need glasses to see but otherwise normally wear contacts! Well, I guess that's more of a headcanon, huh? The shirt in the middle is cute, but at the same time I feel like it's almost too-cutesy for Maddy? And admittedly the colors for the capris in the left outfit were based on the colors for her normal pants anyways, so maybe that's too derivative. Or maybe I'm just overthinking things. :P I might just mix and match with different combos of the outfit-pieces here, I don't know. Well, I'm not in too much of a hurry to decide on a main-new outfit for Maddy, since like I said, it'll still be a while before I start the comic anyways. So I've got a while to think about it! At the least I wanted to share this now for a bit of feedback/suggestions (If anyone doesn't mind!) Edit: Also! Her pose here is kinda-sorta based on her pose in her official art! Her left hand still looks... a little wonky, but eh, I tried at least!

(Pic 6, TorchMan and ColorMan dealing with pop-ups)

Fun fact, Rush from the anime is based off of viruses called Moles in the games (in the English version of the games at least, they're actually still called Rush in the originals  :P ). The battle chip you can get from them is called PopUp, which made me think that they probably act like pop-up ads. xD As advanced as the Battle Network world is, they still have viruses to deal with, so they probably have plenty of other computer-related issues too (pop-up ads, spyware, lag, etc).

[mypoisonedvine]

Tattletale | (dark)stepbrother!Sam Wilson x reader

summary: your step-brother was kind enough to let you stay at his apartment just off-campus when you began your freshman year of college where he was a senior.  unfortunately, his kindness ran out when he learned about your secret side-hustle.

word count: 4.7k

warnings: smut!! (noncon/heavy dubcon and stepcest, they’re not biologically related but were raised from adolescence as siblings), facefucking, slapping, choking, degradation, coercion, DP (with a toy), anal play, possessive behavior, unprotected creampie, lots of crying/implied dacryphilia

this is a dark fic containing triggering topics, please do not read if this would be triggering for upsetting for you in any way.

Your step-brother (and roommate… and technically your landlord) wasn’t usually home when you got back from your Econ class, so you jumped a bit when you saw him nursing a beer in your shared living room; apparently, he was waiting for you.

“Hey, Sammy,” you greeted sheepishly, suddenly feeling self-conscious when his eyes raked over your body— it was hot out, so you just had on a tank top and cut-off shorts, but now you wish you’d covered up more.

“Hey,” he nodded back, setting the beer down and leaning back on the couch, “you got time to talk for a minute?”

His tone made you a little nervous, but his casual body language set you at ease.  He probably just wanted to ask if you could stay somewhere else over the weekend so he could have a girl over, or maybe he needed your help with one of his more difficult assignments— though frankly, you probably couldn’t help much with a senior-level project.  “Sure,” you shrugged, setting your backpack down and slipping off your shoes to join him on the couch.  “What’s up?”

“Nothing, really, I just feel like we don’t talk as much as we used to,” he explained with a little sigh.  Something about the way he glanced to the side for a moment made you wonder if he was being completely transparent.  “Remember when we were younger and we talked all the time?  Or when I moved away to start here and we called every day?  I miss that…”

You smiled a little, moving closer on the couch to rest your hand on his.  “Me too,” you admitted.  “I just figured you saw me as your annoying little sister.”

“I do,” he laughed, “but, you know, we used to be really close!  You used to tell me everything.  And now… now I don’t think you tell me everything.”

Your suspicion that this was more directed than he let on was growing, but you wanted to be close again, too, so you let it continue.  “Well, we’re older now so it’s not quite the same…”

“I guess it’s normal for siblings to grow apart when they’re adults, but, I don’t know… I guess I just didn’t see it coming with us.  And now that I’m letting you live here I thought it would be like old times; to be honest, that was part of why I had you move in in the first place.”

Just as you started to shift away, he flipped his hand and grabbed your wrist, stopping you from pulling away.  “Sammy,” you whispered in shock, leaning back as much as you could even as he moved in closer.

“I think it’s the least you can do to be honest with me, sis,” he hissed.

“I— I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you protested, your gut sinking in fear of being reprimanded by him.  He was so friendly 99% of the time, but you were still terrified of those few memories you had of him getting angry with you.  Disappointing him was one of your greatest fears.

Sam laughed, but he didn’t exactly seem amused.  “Stop playing dumb, honey, I think you know what this is about.”

“I… I don’t…” you stammered, your heart dropping further when he reached for his phone.

“Got a text from Steve today,” he explained as he unlocked it.  “Wanna guess what it was?”

You swallowed dryly, more sure than ever that it was what you dreaded most.  “I don’t know, Sam…”

“I’ll give you a hint,” he grimaced, reading something from the screen.  “Kinky virgin horny for cock, 18, freshman at NYU.”

You looked away but he instantly grabbed your face and turned you to look at him.  “You know, I let you live here while you were in college so you could get an education.  Not be a fucking slut.  Did you think I wouldn’t find your OnlyFans?  Steve found it first, god knows what he did with these pictures before he sent them to me.  Is this what you wanted?  Any guy— even a guy we know— to get off to these pictures?”

Your shoulders slumped and your chest deflated as you started to cry.  “I’m s-so sorry, Sammy—”

“Don’t call me that,” he sneered.  “How stupid are you?  Did you think these would stay private?  Guys trade these all the time, they’re never secret for long.  How long have you been doing this, huh?  Must’ve been a while considering the sheer magnitude of content.  Looks like your first post was on your 18th birthday— Jesus fucking Christ, you couldn’t wait a minute could you?  I was there that day… when did you sneak off to take this little number, huh?”

You didn’t want to look as he turned the phone to you, but his hand tight around your wrist was a reminder not to struggle too hard.  You remembered taking the photo, and it had been during your party.  The idea of how wrong it would be to strip down in your parent’s bathroom to snap a picture in the mirror had only been more encouraging at the time.  For some reason you hadn’t considered that someone would find it; you cringed at the idea that Steve saw you entirely nude, let alone your brother.  It was humiliating.

“And what about this one, huh?  How fucking slutty are you?” he spat, pulling up another picture and shoving the phone in your face as you were confronted with the image of you on your bed with your legs spread, fingers toying with your clit.  “You really don’t leave anything to the imagination.”

“Sam, I didn’t— you weren’t supposed to—”

“Just stop talking.  I can barely look at you right now,” he shook his head.  “This stuff is seriously depraved, sis.  The idea of all these guys drooling all over my little sister… and you actually encouraged them, the fuck is wrong with you?”

Tears poured down your face, and you felt like the anger radiating off of him would burn your skin somehow.  

“And don’t give me some stupid fucking sob story about how you’re doing this to pay for school when I know damn well that mom and dad pay for your classes and I pay your fucking rent.  You didn’t do it for money; you did it for fun.  You did it ‘cause you’re a shameless fucking slut.”

“‘M not,” you denied, “Sam, really— I’m still a virgin, I don’t— you know I don’t do that.”

“You just fantasize about it.  And chat with strangers online about it.  And make videos going on and on about how bad you wanna get fucked.”

You shuddered as you realized: “You watched one of my videos?”

He grinned and pulled you closer.  “Baby… I watched all of them.”

Completely at a loss for words, you silently tried to squirm away only for him to wrap his other arm around you and pull you closer, ignoring your sobs of fear and confusion.

“You’re actually sorta talented, for a dumb little virgin who had no idea what she’s getting herself into,” he purred against your ear, starting to push up your tank top.

“N-no,” you whimpered, “Sam, stop— I’m sorry.  I’ll delete the account, I’m sorry.”

“Too late for apologies, little sis,” he cooed, “it’s not just the account.  It’s that you made those posts from my apartment, you took those pictures in the room that I gave you.  Not to mention the way you walk around in these tight clothes, teasing me just because you can.  This goes way deeper than a few dirty pictures, sweetheart, and you know it.”

When you tried to wriggle away again, he seemed to exert nearly no effort at all to be able to spin you around and pull you down into his lap, where the shape of his hard cock pressing against your ass was obvious.  “Sam, s-stop, this isn’t funny.”

“Damn right it isn’t funny, I’m dead fucking serious,” he growled against your ear.  “What was it that you said in your most recent video, the one where you were wearing a collar and using that gaudy pink vibe on your clit?  ‘I need your cock to ruin my hole, daddy’... am I remembering that right?”

Hesitantly, you nodded, and he laughed darkly against your ear as he pulled your hips into his.  

“Say it, then.  Like you said it in the video.”

“Sam, no—” 

“No?” he repeated incredulously.  “You can’t say no to me, honey.  Cause if you do, I’m gonna send all these pictures and videos to mom and dad, tell them all about how their precious little angel is selling her ass on the Internet with the phone they pay for and the laptop they bought.  What are they gonna say to that?  Think they’ll take you back after that, let you stay with them when I kick you out?  As if.  So unless you think one of these creeps online is gonna give you a place to stay, seems like I’m your only option.”

You choked on a sob as you cried harder, hating that he was right.  

“So you need to start doing what you’re told, or you’re gonna end up doing a lot worse with someone much less generous than me, got it?”

Terrified of him but unable to imagine the alternative, you nodded.

“Then.  Fucking.  Say it.”

“I…” you began, sounding weak and weepy compared to the original video you were quoting, “I need your cock… to ruin my hole… daddy.”

“Eh, needs improvement but it’s a start,” he shrugged, throwing you down onto the couch and climbing on top of you.  When you tried to protest, or at least turn around to face him, he slapped your ass harshly and it stung even through the denim shorts.  “I have needs too, sis.  Can’t hardly get any when you’re here all damn day being a fucking cockblock.  And frankly, since you started dressing like this and acting like a whore, I haven’t even been able to think about anybody else… can’t get hard for anyone but my slutty little sister.”

He leaned down to press his body against yours, pinning you against the cool leather by your shoulders.  

“Steve told me about your account weeks ago, babe… I’ve been getting off to your cute little pictures ever since.”

It made you wince, but it made him laugh.  Shame and fear and disgust swirled in your gut and made you nauseous, his grip on you tight enough to leave a bruise as he dug his fingertips into your skin.  When he sat back up, he started pulling at your jean shorts roughly, ripping them slightly as he shoved them down to your thighs.

“Wow, look at this pretty little ass,” he groaned.  “A thousand guys have seen it, but it’s better in person.”  He slapped you again on either cheek, hard enough to make you yelp.  “What’s the matter, sis, I thought you liked being spanked?  You talk about it all the time.  You talk about how you want me to spank you raw and leave marks all over your body, hurt you and break you and claim you.”

“I— I wasn’t talking about you,” you defended, remembering how you always addressed the viewer when dirty talking in your videos, but keeping it generic enough that any guy could imagine it was him.

“Then who did you think about when you got off?  Who was it that got you wet for your videos?” he pressed.  “Because you’re wet right now… and I’m the only one here.”

You shook your head, you tried to speak to deny it, but words escaped you as he flipped you around and hovered above your face.

“Do you get wet for anybody, baby, is that it?  Will you spread your legs for any cock?  Or do you just have a special place in your cunt for your big brother?”

Your stunned silence earned you a slap to the face, sending your head spinning to the side as your cheek stung and burned.  Just as the heat of the impact really started to get to you, he hit you on the other side, and again, until you finally gave him an answer: “You!” you yelped suddenly.  “You, Sam, just you!”

He laughed a little, leaning down and capturing your lips in an unexpected, dominating kiss.  It was awkward and sloppy, exactly the sort of kiss one would expect when it was forced; just as passionless and confused on your end as a kiss to your step-sibling should be.  But he moaned against you and forced his tongue deeper into your mouth, hands coming down to grope your tits through your tank top and bra.  Trying to push him away was beyond useless, and he slapped you again without even breaking his lips away from yours.  Soon he was reaching to pull down your top— no, wait, he was tearing through it, and your bra snapped like a rubber band against his strength.  When he grabbed your breasts again, without any clothing in the way this time, your nipples were hard and sensitive between his fingers; it was so obvious that he smiled into the kiss, biting your lip playfully.  “Wow, you really do like this.  Your step brother’s forcing himself on you and you’re such a whore that you’re actually into it.”

He slapped your breast, just hard enough to sting, and you cried out; he did it again and your back arched.

“Yeah, I knew you just needed to be put in your place, little sis.  Just needed me to fix your attitude, that’s all.”  He wrapped his hand around your neck, not squeezing enough to cut off airflow but obviously threatening it, before leaning down to whisper in your ear: “get on the ground, on your knees.”

Even for what was left of your virginal innocence, you knew what he wanted.  Wordlessly, your only sounds the weak little sobs that shook your chest, you slipped out from beneath him and onto the floor by the couch.  He shifted to sit in front of you with wide legs, thick thighs spread as he looked down at you with an expression of anticipation.  

“Get on with it, honey, I know you know how.  Seen you choke on your toys a thousand times.”

After taking a stabilizing breath to cope with what was happening, shivering from the cold air on your exposed upper half, you sat up slightly and reached for his belt.  You’d felt it pressed against you before, but now you could see the shape of his cock threatening to burst out of his jeans, so thick and long that you were confident he heard the little gasp you let out.  And yet, you knew you had to trek forward, so you began to unclasp his belt before unzipping his fly.  He lifted his hips to help you pull his pants and boxers down, but other than that he was too busy stroking the side of your face with his fingers in a move much too delicate for the situation.  You stopped breathing for a second when you saw the size of him, his cock bouncing up when you released it to slap against his stomach.

“Sam, I can’t,” you sighed, starting to back away, “I’ve never— it won’t fit.”

“Nah, baby, it’s okay,” he encouraged gently, pulling you closer, “you can take it just fine.  Just open your mouth, sis…”

He guided the tip of his cock between your lips, still swollen from his bruising kiss, and you whimpered when you felt his warm skin against your tongue, tasting the salty pre-cum that leaked out slow and steady.

“Yeah, just like that, now go ahead and suck on me,” he instructed, groaning when you closed your lips and hollowed your cheeks, using your tongue to tease the slit like you’d read online was a good thing to do.  He chuckled and bucked up into you, holding your head as he started to pump his hips and slowly fill your mouth to the brim.  “See, you can do it— now choke on it.”

When he pushed in until you gagged, your first instinct was to push on his thighs and try to get away for air, but he held you down as he hissed through his teeth.

“I know you can take all of me in your throat if you just stop fucking fighting,” he hissed, slapping you one more time which caused your throat to open up in shock— and it was just enough for him to shove in deeper, groaning at the feeling.  “Yeah, that’s it… fuck…” he sighed, moving his hips faster.  The struggle for air made your eyes water (although you hadn’t really had much of a chance to stop crying in the first place) as your grip on his thighs tightened.  “I bet your pussy is getting so wet for me right now,” he chuckled, “I bet you love choking on my cock, huh?”

You tried to shake your head but you couldn’t really move much; he pulled you off of his length by your hair, just in time to give you a much-needed sputtering gasp for air.

“Fuck, I’d love to fill that pretty throat with my come,” he smiled— a sinister sort of grin that made you shudder as you looked up with him, feeling spit and pre-cum on your lips and chin— “but I know what you want.  Since you’ve spent all year begging to lose your virginity on the internet, I figure I’ll be nice and give you what you’ve been asking for.”

Before you could even begin to consider a response to that, he hoisted you up and threw you back onto the couch, spreading your legs as you looked away in shame.

“Yep, I was right, you’re fuckin’ soaked,” he laughed.  “You nasty little slut, are you actually getting off on this?  Wow.”

A renewed sense of ‘dear god this cannot happen’ shot through you as he leaned down and slid his cock over your folds, teasing your clit with his swollen head.  “Sam, stop, please…”

“I’m kind of getting tired of you begging,” he hissed as he leaned down, glaring right into your eyes as you froze beneath him.  “I’m obviously not going to stop,” he explained as his hand slipped around your throat, “you dumb fucking bitch.”

Your ability to fight back was taken with your opportunity to breathe, his strong fingers cutting off blood flow to your head quickly as he clamped down on your neck.  Instantly you clawed at his hand, your vision starting to go a little spotty, and he laughed at you coldly before letting go.  And when he finally did, his hand moved instead to hold both your wrists above your head while the other guided his cock into your pulsing entrance.  When he pushed his hips forward, the air was punched from your lungs as your back arched, a sharp pain reverberating over your body from the stretch of him inside you.

“Fuck!” he groaned, pushing in deeper, slow but consistent.  “You’re tight, baby, you really did need a cock to ruin this hole, huh?  Fuck, ‘m gonna, just hold still…”

But how could you hold still, when every instinct had you moving your hips to try to push his cock out, your hands tightening into fists as they tried to fight against his strength.  Of course, now that he was inside, he had a second arm to hold you down with, but the terrifying thing was that he really only needed the one.  “Sam!” you sobbed, your own voice sounding foreign with the way it wavered and cracked.

“Yeah, baby, that’s me inside you,” he purred, “that’s your big brother’s cock tearing up this little pussy…”

When he roughly shoved the rest of himself inside, the tip of his cock found the end of you and your eyes shot open.  He smiled down at you as he examined your face; twisted in pain, and glistening with tears turned greyish-black by your mascara.

“None of your toys ever went this deep in you before, huh?  Poor thing, should’ve known you were all talk… you don’t even know how to take those big cocks you drool over.  I can’t even imagine what you’ll be like when I put this in your ass.”

He cackled at the pure terror that danced over your expression, and the way your walls tightened around him briefly.  

“Relax, sis, not today.  I’m just sayin’, if you want me to keep my mouth shut to mom and dad, you’re gonna have to keep me happy.  Lucky for you, I’m very happy right now, snug inside this sweet little cunt of yours…” he trailed off, leaning down to kiss your cheek and moving to suck on your ear, bite your neck, lick up and down over your pulse.  He was waiting, you realized, for your body to relax so he could move inside you with less resistance.  You were a little surprised he didn’t just jackhammer into you with no regard for your pain, but you had a feeling that part was coming soon anyways.

He reached down to pull your legs up, guiding them to wrap around his hips, and the new angle forced his cock a little deeper which made you squeal.  The sound morphed into a stuttered moan, however, when he pulled back out of you slowly, savoring every detail of your walls as he sighed against your skin.

When he slammed back home, your nails dug into your own palms.

“Baby,” he whispered, “you’re close, aren’t you?  Just from this.  You always came so fast in your videos…”

Irritatingly, he was right; your walls were flexing as more slick coated his thick shaft, dripping down until you could hear the wetness whenever his hips slapped into yours.  You couldn’t help it, considering how he pushed right into your g-spot with every stroke inside you, hitting every sensitive place harder and better than any toy ever had.

“See, baby?  We were made for each other,” he cooed.  “You were made to take this cock.  You were meant to be my little fucktoy.”

You hated the way his words only added to your pleasure, pushing you right up to the edge— which his cock slamming all the way into you one last time finally sent you over.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped when he felt the force of your orgasm, smiling pridefully as your eyes fluttered shut and your head fell back against the couch.  “So sensitive, sweetheart, and so fucking wet for me…”

He fucked you faster and— somehow— deeper, chasing his own release with aggressive thrusts into you.  Each of his low grunts against your ear sent shivers down your spine, your legs around him tightening to pull him closer.

Just as you thought he might find his rhythm for a while and maybe, if you were lucky, be finished with you soon, he pulled out quickly and patted your thigh.  “Hands and knees, baby,” he instructed, watching you shakily turn around and lift yourself on weak arms.  It was short-lived, though, as he pushed your face back down into the couch cushion, forcing your back into a dramatic arch that made you feel like your body was on display for him.  As if that wasn’t nerve-wracking enough, you couldn’t even see him much anymore, which meant you had no idea what he was reaching for when he leaned back— but you heard what it was when he turned it on.  “Oh, you recognize this?” he mused.  “It was my favorite of everything I saw you use.”

He rubbed the vibrator over your folds slowly, chuckling a little when you jolted each time it brushed against your clit.  You didn’t really understand why he would want to fuck you with a vibe when he seemed to have been enjoying doing it himself; but then he slid it up a little higher, to your other hole, and you gasped.  “S-Sam,” you pleaded.

“I know you took it here before.  I watched you do it.  I even heard you the night you filmed it— these walls are thinner than you think, sis.”

Shame burned on your face as you imagined him listening to you put something up your ass for the first time, only for him to see the video the next morning when you uploaded it.

“Do you think it’s gonna feel different when I put it in while I fuck you?” he mused, pushing the vibrating tip of it into your hole.  Thankfully it was pretty slender, so the stretch wasn’t bad, but the vibrations were strong enough that you could feel them everywhere, and you realized he would be able to feel them, too, while he was inside you.  “You’re gonna be so fuckin’ full, sis, stuffed to the brim just like you wanted.”

He pushed the toy in deeper until your hands clutched at the sofa beneath you, which was apparently his cue to guide his cock back into your drenched pussy.  Just as he promised, you felt so full that you had no idea how to cope with it, your legs shaking as you tried not to collapse beneath him.

“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned, moving himself and the toy at alternating paces inside you as you mindlessly drooled onto the cushion, your overstimulated body barely able to handle the sensations he was forcing upon you.  “You like being my little fucktoy, don’t you?  You’re so pretty like this, so pretty being used just like you deserve.”

“Sammy, please,” you sobbed, barely intelligible as you couldn’t really string your thoughts together anymore.

“You want more, huh?  Needy little slut,” he snarled, but the way he said it almost sounded like a compliment.  It certainly made your heart swell as if it was.  He fucked you faster, then, and pushed the vibrator as deep into your ass as it would go until you were sobbing and blubbering and basically just a complete mess beneath him.  “Keep squeezin’ me so tight and I’m gonna come inside you, sweetheart,” he moaned.

Some part of your brain was still aware enough to know that that was not a good idea, but you didn’t even really think to tell him not to because you knew he would anyway.  Finally, you had accepted that he was going to do whatever he wanted with you and your resistance only brought out his crueler side.  

“Fuck, come again for me,” he demanded, “come on my cock while I come inside you— that’s it, cream on my fucking cock while I fill you up, slut.”

It was jarring, the way his words suddenly knocked you over the edge again as you cried out, fresh tears filling your eyes and joining the damp spot beneath your face on the couch.  You felt both your holes clenching around the intrusions he had filled them with, your head going fuzzy and your limbs going numb from the intensity of your peak; waves of warmth washed over you as you slumped down a little bit, the distant sound of his praises just barely reaching your ringing ears.

His free hand held your hips tightly while the other kept pumping the vibrator into you, and even through all the overwhelming stimuli going on at the moment, you could feel his cock beginning to flex deep inside you.  Each pump of his come painting the deepest parts of you coincided with a low moan from him, the sound so cruelly perfect and forcing your channel to clamp down on him, weakly, one last time.

“Fuck, baby…” he groaned as he caught his breath, turning off the vibrator before slowly pulling it out of you and tossing it aside.  He kept his cock inside for longer, though, as he rubbed your ass and back gently.  “You’re gonna be such a good little fucktoy for me, sis, I just know it.”

He let you drop when he pulled out of you, your spent body limp and leaking on the couch as he stared down at you.

“I think you need a shower, sweetheart,” he chuckled.  “But first, you need to give me the password to your OnlyFans so I can help you delete it, okay baby?  We don’t need anybody else looking at what’s mine.”

[biaswreckingfics]

Demon! Jung Subin

Summary: Summoning a demon for revenge was clearly not the best idea.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: language, implied death

This fic is part of my October event Thrills and Chills.

Stepping back to admire your handiwork, you study the pentagram you’ve hand-painted on the floor and wonder if you’re really about to go through with this. If what you’re doing is an entirely stupid idea, and if you should back out now while you still have the chance.

You’ve heard of people summoning demons before, of them getting everything they’ve desired. You’ve also heard about the stories where it blows up in their face, and the demon kills them. Were you willing to gamble your life to get revenge?

Your mind flashes back to the moment you walked into your boyfriend’s apartment and found him fucking your best friend. Your boyfriend of five years and your best friend since childhood committing one of the ultimate acts of betrayal. The blood had boiled in your veins, and you had wanted to kill them both on the spot.

Fuck yeah, you’re doing this. You have too much pride to let the two of them get away with hurting you like that, and if it costs you your life, then so be it. You’d rather be dead than have to come across either of those two ever again.

Crouching down to light the candles at each point of the pentagram, you grab the piece of paper you had printed out from some shady website and look down at the chant. The odds of this working were small, but you don’t care. You want revenge, and this is the only way you know how to get it without being thrown in prison.

Clearing your throat, you begin saying the chant. You follow the words and directions closely, repeating and doing what needs to be done. After nearly five minutes, you stop. How long are you supposed to do this for? How’re you supposed to know if anything even happens? A demon is just going to be standing in the pentagram like a movie?

Sighing, you let the directions fall to the floor. This is stupid. You’re stupid. You kneel on the floor and lean close to one of the candles to blow it out, but a rumble has you freezing. An earthquake? You didn’t get earthquakes in your area, but with the way the floor is rumbling… What else could it be?

You stand up to go look out the window and come face to face with a dark shape forming in the pentagram. Your eyes double in size, and a spike of fear zips through your heart. Holy. Shit. It’s working.

Slowly backing away from the symbol, you keep your eyes trained on the dark figure that is almost in a completely solid-state. You watch in awed horror as the black shadow forms into a dark, scaly creature. Its shape is humanoid. Its eyes are an intense obsidian that appear to be staring deep into your soul as it cocks its head to the side.

A growl so deep that it feels like it’s rumbling in your chest surrounds you. Then, suddenly, a multilayered voice that you’ve heard in nearly every paranormal movie or show you’ve ever seen reaches your ears.

“Did you summon me, human?”

Your eyes trail down its body, starting at its horned head, noticing its clawed hands, and then stopping at its matching feet. You gulp as a nervous fear sets in and steals any voice you have. The demon growls at your lack of answer before sniffing the air. A smile, if you can even call it that, grows on its face.

“Your fear is delicious.”

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself, you say, “Yes, I summoned you.”

“And what would a stupid human like you want from a demon like me?” It taunts you.

“Revenge. I want revenge on two people,” you cautiously answer as your eyes rake its body.

The demon cocks its head with interest. After a moment, a shadow begins to ooze from its pores, shrouding it from your eyes. You wonder if the demon is leaving until the shadow retracts and in front of you now stands a young man.

You take in the new figure in surprise and hate yourself when you find him attractive. He’s a demon for Christ’s sake. Nothing about him is attractive. Not his narrowed eyes. Not his soft-looking lips. Nothing, you remind yourself.

A cocky smile grows on his face like he can hear everything you’re thinking, and your heart drops into your stomach. Can he?

“Who would you like revenge on?” His honey voice reaches your ears. “Lover? Family? Foe?”

Blinking a couple times, you look away from his somewhat accurate guesses. Curiously, you ask, “I’m guessing I’m not the only one?”

A musical laugh falls from the figure. “Humans are such fickle creatures. The need for instant gratification always weighs out intelligence. You all want things you can’t have, and the desperate ones are always idiotic enough to summon my kind to get it.”

You look at the ground in shame for a moment. You’re quite clearly in the last category, and the fact that the demon is the one pointing out you’re an idiot is a special kind of irony.

“My boyfriend and best friend.”

The demon’s eyebrows raise in interest. “Cheated, did they?”

Your eyes trail up to his as you confirm, and he shrugs his shoulders. “You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.”

Letting out a shaky breath, you ask, “So, what will you do?”

“That depends on you. Are you willing to pay the price to get revenge?”

For some reason, it never dawned on you that you’d get this far. You never even considered what the demon would want in return.

“What’s the price, and what will you do?”

“I’ll make their lives a living hell. Make them think they’ve gone crazy and that someone is after them until they descend into absolute madness and lose their faculties.”

You consider if that’s what you want for them. You want them to pay for what they did – to suffer – but you stupidly never truly considered what you wanted to happen. You went into this entire thing half-cocked like an idiot. Just as the demon said.

“For your soul,” the demon finishes.

It feels like the breath is stolen from your lungs as your eyes wildly meet the demons. The price is your soul? To get revenge? No. No way. You’ll drag their names through social media before you sell your damn soul to a demon.

“No.”

He cocks a brow at you. “No?”

“The price is too high. I’m not selling you my soul.”

The demon’s eyes grow hard as he stares at you. It’s like you can almost see the fire burning behind the blackness.

“Are you telling me you’ve summoned me here only to refuse me?” He growls at you, causing fear to spike in your heart.

“I guess so.”

The demon lets out a small laugh before it turns into a louder one.

“You think you can deny me?” He demands as he steps out of the pentagram, completely walking over the protection circle you made. You gasp and quickly back away from him. “You think your stupid little protection stones are going to stop me? Child, you do not know who I am or what I can do, but tonight, you’ll experience it firsthand.”

It shifts back into its original, demonic form, and you back away as it advances on you, tripping over any and everything. Tears stream down your face as it nears, and you realize the horrible mistake you’ve made. Any attempts to scream are dashed because fear has paralyzed your vocal cords, and once you hit the wall behind you and are trapped between a counter and a chair, you know this is the end.

Its clawed hand grips your throat, cutting off your air supply as it leans in close to your face. “The price of summoning me is a soul, so you were never walking away from this. Only now, I won’t do a single thing to your boyfriend and friend. The only one here who will be punished is you.”

[carelesscreativity]

Kross Fatal Sparring: Gift for ShironuK

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[Based on this Thread: https://twitter.com/shironusins/status/1385432090225909763?s=21]

(SFW, Blood, Angst, Dismemberment)

Killer felt so... itchy. He felt one of his sockets twitch as he stared straight ahead, his empty eyes fixed on the wall across from the bed. He was laying back against the backboard, having been sharpening his knife. His arms had suddenly fallen limp in his lap, his soul having given a sudden, violent spark that had rattled him and left a tingling along his bones. It wasn't a comfortable one. He felt a pressure and quickly realized that he had been holding his breath the whole time.

He shakily exhaled, watching as a billowing cloud of glowing red mist escaped his jaws. He supposed that was his LV flare for the day. It was the shortest one he'd had in a while and even the most painless. He furrowed his brow and after another moment of recovering, slowly began to sharpen his knife on the whetstone once more. He was so focused on that, he nearly had a soul attack at a knock on his door. He stared at it for a moment, his mind not quite clicking before it caught up to him. "Hold on!" He called.

He slipped out of the bed and stretched, figuring he already knew who it was. He always showed up around this time. Killer picked up his knife, slipping it up his sleeve and moving over to the door, unlocking and opening. "Hey there. Come to see me?" He asked teasingly. Cross scoffed and rolled his eyes. He opened his jaws and Killer was already out the door, shutting it behind him. "Hell yeah, I would love kick your ass."

"We're sparring." Cross said flatly, scoffing warmly as Killer turned to look back at him with an innocent smile and a shrug. Cross' eyes flicked to his soul for just a moment, the target glowing much brighter than usual. Killer got his attention with his snarky, teasing voice.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Killer led the way down to the training room, his smile only faltering once he was turned away from Cross. He furrowed his brow just for a moment, wondering why he still felt so itchy. It wasn't the kind of itch that he could scratch. It was one that was deepset in his bones and marrow. It was inside and Killer wasn't sure he'd felt something like that before.

They reached the large, open room and Killer gave an abrupt spin to face Cross, turning on his heel and giving a lazy smile. The soldier almost ran right into him, nearly jumping out of his bones. "You need to stop doing that." He said gruffly, a soft purple dusting along his cheeks. Killer reached up and Cross raised a brow in response before sighing as Killer traced his fingers over his cheek with a grin.

"Why would I stop? You always look so pretty when I do it." Killer's feverishly bright soul allowed itself to bend just a little and the faintest eyelights were seen in Killer's usually empty sockets as he grinned. "Alright!" He turned away and walked a few feet ahead, slipping his knife out of his sleeve and into his hand. He spun back to face him with that teasing grin, ignoring the prickling. It was spreading from his soul, he realized, having been unable to pinpoint the origin earlier. He got into a starting position, watching Cross summon his large knife and do the same.

Killer's head was swimming and his thoughts kept slipping out of his grasp. The match began, both of them fast and precise. The blows exchanged between them would be superficial if they ever landed. He knew the others liked watching the two of them spar and would probably already be coming to see them. The clanging and clinking of metal on metal echoed through the training room, the prickling becoming more and more powerful. The sounds were blurring, but Killer kept his body moving.

He didn't even feel like he was the one moving it though. His body was on autopilot, acting without his mind being fully attached. He wasn't focused on the fight. Killer was SO itchy. Mid-strike, his soul gave a powerful crackle and it made him stumble just long enough to miss a dodge. There was a faint searing pain across his cheek and Killer felt something spilling down his face. It wasn't more than a cut, he could tell that much. But the way his soul suddenly flared up made his bones feel electrocuted. He was in danger. He was in danger and that had to be remedied.

He was on his opponent in an instant, pinning them hard enough for their head to crack against the ground. Killer's body was still on autopilot and he couldn't even really see. All he saw was red and black and brightness. It was so fucking bright. He couldn't speak and even if he was, he couldn't hear himself. HE WAS SO FUCKING ITCHY. His arms were moving. His arms were moving and he could hear noises that were comforting and familiar though the itchiness, which was quickly becoming painful. His eyesockets were no longer empty, but they were pitch black and melting down his face. A true visage of terror and a picture perfect reminder of what he was. He felt like he was melting on DETERMINATION.

Screaming. He could hear screaming but he couldn't tell who's it was. He had sheared straight through his opponent's armor, aiming at the same spot over and over, liquid spilling through his fingers and the familiarity of it all was sending him on a high like he'd never experienced. He dug the knife in and yanked it downwards, breaking through everything in his path before resorting to frantic stabbing wherever he could hit. His entire body felt like it was on fire and he was pretty sure he was smiling as he felt marrow spatter his face and felt the crunching of bone beneath him. It was all so much. It was all so much and he was living for it. He needed more to satiate that burning itch all over his body. INSIDE his body. He needed MORE. He needed-

"KILLER!" The itch went cold. The prickling felt like it was retreating into his soul and all of a sudden, he was aware. He was shaking. He was shaking from the exhilaration and everything was still too much. His hands were wet. He could feel the liquid hate running down his face, but there was something else he couldn't identify. He was breathing so hard. It felt like he'd just run 300,000 miles and he was gasping down air. He was shaking so hard. He wasn't itchy anymore.

He became... aware. His opponent. His entire body went cold and he didn't want to tilt his head down. He forced himself to anyway and met Cross' empty eyelights. Cross' face was intact, give a couple of purple spatters and the tears streaming down his face. It was everything below it that was now the problem. His uniform had been torn straight open, the edges frayed and it now being more purple than it was white (He had sheared straight through his opponent's armor). His right arm had been completely shattered off, the ground below cracked from the force of his attack (aiming at the same spot over and over). His ribcage had the worst of it, the ribs broken in a straight line from his collarbone to the edge, just BARELY missing his sternum (He dug the knife in and yanked it downwards, breaking everything in his path).

Cross looked dead. He looked dead and Killer stared at him. He couldn't. He couldn't be... He couldn't. A glow caught his eye and he looked over, blinking the liquid hate from his eyesockets to see that Cross was holding his own soul loosely in his hand, having gotten it out of his ribcage before Killer had attacked. His ribcage was covered in stab wounds. His large red knife was completely gone. Killer could feel his arms drenched halfway up to his elbows in purple blood and his knife wasn't even shining anymore. Hadn't he just sharpened it? He loosened his grip on the handle and watched the purple blade fall to the ground and clatter a bit away, the sound echoing through the room. He heard footsteps.

Then, it struck Killer just who's voice had yelled his name and by the time he realized, he was already being yanked off of Cross by several tentacles around his limbs. He was tossed backwards and caught, being laid on his back. Though he'd heard and thought and seen so clearly for a few moments, he was back in a blurred world, the sounds faint and muffled. He was itchy again. Someone else had him and he managed to process a faint glow again, this one a wide eyelight ringed in red, blue and purple. Killer was focused on the dark shape of Nightmare hunched over Cross' broken body.

His voice sounded far away and panicked as someone else grabbed Killer from the other side. He could see the red glow of another eyelight fixed on him. He had the vague idea that he was being restrained and he gave a quiet nod. He was so itchy. He was so, so itchy. He dropped back as his soul gave another violent flare, his vision being swamped in that bright, bright red again as he opened his jaws. He was probably screaming, but he couldn't hear it at all. Black was creeping into the edges of his vision and he collapsed against the ground as it came rushing in, effectively silencing him and shutting him off to the blurred world around him.

————————————

The knock on Killer’s bedroom door was slow. He didn’t move. If it was Nightmare like usual, he would just teleport in when Killer didn’t open the door. He kept himself buried in his blankets in the dark. The curtains had been shut for a long time. It had been nearly two months and Nightmare still couldn’t even send Killer on a mission. Killer couldn’t stand being in the light because it would show. He would see it. The reminder of what he did.

They’d cleaned him up best they could, but Cross’ blood seemed to have permanently stained his bones a faint purple. Killer couldn’t look at his arms or hands without feeling that itchiness and a devastating chill through his entire body. The bedroom was illuminated only faintly by a thin strip of sunlight through the curtains. He was thinking about him again. He was thinking about Cross. He was thinking about when he’d visited him in his bedroom about three weeks after the incident.

Nightmare had been there to monitor both of them, holding Killer’s soul in his hands since he knew the negativity Killer would have from just seeing Cross would break him if not drained immediately. The soldier seemed to be stained with his own blood as well. Killer had managed to apologize to him in a tearful mess. Cross had accepted it, but when Killer had clasped his hands in front of himself, Cross had flinched so hard that there had been a soft crack and new blood had appeared, soaking through his bandages.

Killer had stared at it and Cross had begun to say something, but Killer was already long gone. They hadn’t seen each other since. No one had seen Killer, in fact, except for Nightmare, who stopped by constantly to check on him and drain the negativity that would build up and fester in his target soul. There was another knock before Nightmare’s familiar presence was felt in his room. Killer didn’t move until a voice he wasn’t expecting shocked him straight up out of his covers.

“Killer?” Cross’ voice was quiet and Killer turned to look with wide eyes. Before he even processed it, his body had moved to the farthest edge of his bed. Cross stared at him from next to Nightmare’s side. He looked exactly the same as before the incident in the dim light of the bedroom. Nightmare moved around to where Killer was, holding out his hand. Killer released his soul to him without a second thought, his eyes still fixed on Cross. His arms burned.

“Yeah.” Killer’s voice sounded broken.

Nightmare had already started pulling shame and guilt from him, moving away to stand across the room from both of them. Cross seemed hesitant before he came over, sitting on the edge of the bed farthest from Killer to give him space. He sighed. “I don’t blame you.” He said quietly. Killer stared at him for a moment. He didn’t understand. “I know that probably doesn’t make much sense, but please just know that I don’t blame you.” Cross said, giving a very weak smile.

It sent a pang straight to Killer’s soul. He missed seeing that smile. But Cross was so stupid. He was so stupid to forgive him so easily, especially for what Killer had done to him. He was far too forgiving. Far too merciful. Killer didn’t deserve any of that. Before he knew it, something else was spilling over his eyesockets along with the liquid hate. He prayed his tears weren’t that visible, but the way Cross’ shoulders sank and his smile faltered didn’t give Killer much hope. “I’m sorry.” Killer said shakily. Cross blinked and nodded, saying that he knew. “Cross...”

Nightmare was pulling a lot of negativity from him now. Cross blinked and sighed. “Killer, it’s okay.” Killer shook his head, burying it in his hands. “You didn’t hit my soul.”

“What if I had, Cross?? What if I had killed you on that dirty fucking floor???” Killer was shaking as he spoke. Cross blinked before saying that he hadn’t. He stared at Killer for a moment before moving a little closer to him. He sat in the middle of the bed now and Killer was staring at him with wide eyes. He placed his hands at his sides and Cross felt his entire body lock up for a moment at the sudden movement. He quickly relaxed, but Killer had already noticed.

The sadness and shame that Nightmare had to pull would feed him for millenniums, but he didn’t want that. Cross blinked before trying something else. “H-Hey, how about I bring up some snacks and hot chocolate? We usually would have some after we spar anyway, right?” Killer blinked tearfully at him and Cross tried for a smile. “I’ll go make it and bring it up, okay? We can talk about this... okay?”

Killer stared at him for another few moments. Cross may have already forgiven him, but he clearly wasn’t unaffected. And just because Cross had forgiven him didn’t mean that Killer forgave himself. This could be a step, at least, back to whatever they’d had before. He finally managed a quiet nod and Cross visibly perked up. Killer managed to meet his gaze as he whispered a quiet ‘okay.’

[galaxywhump]

Wrong Place, Wrong Time

[Masterlist]

This is a concept I’ve been toying with since January, but it never turned into anything more fleshed out. Inspiration suddenly struck, so here it is now. I’m not promising anything, the story’s more or less just a loose idea, but I’d love to do more with it.

cw: hero/villain whump, hero whumper, winged villain whumpee, defiant whumpee, capture, falling from a height, pinned down, struggling to breathe, restraints, drugging, needles, police, implied future captivity, alcohol mention, swearing.

~~~

When Oscar was caught, air left his lungs.

For a split second he felt relieved in a strange, detached way - the panic that was pushing him forward as he zigzagged between buildings was suddenly cut short when his pursuer caught up to him, when cold metal wound around his wings, pulling him down. His eyes went wide and his stomach sank as he was stopped mid-motion, and the fear accompanying the realization that he’d been caught finally rang in his mind.

No.

He flailed wildly, trying to free his wings, the last desperate attempt to free himself before he had to put his hands forward to break his fall, but once again his breath was knocked out of him when he hit the concrete. When he tried to get up despite the metal rope keeping his wings stretched out on the ground, there was a strange whooshing sound and something, two somethings, landed on him, pinned his neck and legs down, stopping him when he flinched violently.

No!

He tried to push himself upright, but whatever it was that was holding him down was merciless, and he closed his eyes and panted into the wet concrete. He’d been caught.

“Heya.”

There were footsteps, slow, lazy, somewhere behind him, and the… thing immobilizing him prevented him from looking back over his shoulder, leaving him no choice but to lie there pathetically, waiting to see who had defeated him. When the person entered his field of vision - or at least their sports shoes did - he looked up as much as the weight around his neck allowed, glaring.

“Well, that was a walk in the park”, the person laughed, and Oscar gritted his teeth and pulled his arms underneath himself, trying once again to push himself up with his elbows, but he was stuck, trapped, defeated, caught, caught, caught. “What, can’t free yourself? No powers, huh? Just these little flappers.”

“Who the hell are you?” Oscar snapped. The person didn’t answer - instead the pressure on his neck disappeared, and the object was sent flying to the side. It hit the ground with a horrible clangor, and Oscar finally saw what it was - a piece of metal shaped like a capital H, probably a piece of scaffolding, no doubt identical with the one pinning his legs down. He could finally prop himself up on his elbows and look up at the face of the person who defeated him - the face he’d seen on billboards and the news, the face of Bradley McKenna.

“You know me, don’t you?” Bradley flashed his teeth in a brilliant smile seeing the hint of recognition in Oscar’s eyes. “Would be weird if you didn’t.”

Of all the heroes he could’ve been way too close to for this robbery it had to be him. That explained why he got caught so easily in a neighborhood that was supposed to be pretty low-risk, but, as he realized, it also meant that escaping was way less likely than he’d hoped.

“I just happened to be in the neighborhood, don’t think you’re so important that they sent me to deal with you.”

“What an honor”, Oscar snarled and tried once again to drag himself forward - useless, but he had to, he couldn’t just lie there, he had to do something - to escape the scaffolding, but then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other piece being lifted off the ground by an invisible force once again before shooting in his direction, as if it was going to hit him with full force. He collapsed to the ground and shielded his head with his arms; there was no pain, no impact, and for a split second everything was silent. He dared to open his eyes, but at the exact same moment pain exploded in his back and once again he was out of breath when the scaffolding was dropped on him, straddling his waist this time.

“Shit!” he wheezed, and Bradley laughed, crouching down next to him.

“What, you think you’re going to escape? Sorry, buddy, but you’re done for. I’ve already called reinforcements, they’re on the way, and all you have to do now is relax and wait.” He patted Oscar on the back, right between the wings, ignoring the growled demand that he keep his hands to himself. “And aren’t you comfortable?”

He was freezing, trembling in the cold night air, only amplified by the concrete he was pinned to, still damp and unpleasant after a recent rainfall, and his terror wasn’t helping matters. 

“You could’ve at least brought a mattress”, he spat out a snark, which was met with laughter again.

“A sense of humor? Nothing quite like it in a criminal.”

They both flinched and Bradley’s head jerked up when the silence of the night was interrupted by the roar of a car engine getting closer, then powering down.

“Looks like your ride’s here!”

It hit all over again, the realization that it was the end of the line for him, that he was going to be taken away, that there was nothing he could do, that this was never supposed to happen. He lowered his head when footsteps echoed in the alley, but then he looked up again to give the approaching officers a hard stare, save the last bit of his dignity.

“An avian?”, one commented, addressing Bradley before turning to Oscar, tilting his head to the side with a condescending smile. “You’ve been causing some trouble around here, haven’t you? Glad that’s dealt with.”

Oscar didn’t reply, opting to simply glare instead, and the officer gestured to the other one, who approached too, taking something out of his pocket - a syringe, the sight of which made Oscar’s heart skip a beat.

“Is that really necessary?” Bradley asked, though his tone was nothing but lighthearted. “I doubt he’s dangerous.”

Oscar would be offended if he wasn’t scared out of his wits, and despite knowing too well that there was no escaping he started thrashing under the scaffolding again, which, as a surprise to no-one, achieved nothing. 

“It’s more convenient this way. Less hassle.”

The officer crouched down by his side and swiftly stuck the needle in his arm, and the perfected formula immediately weakened Oscar’s struggles and hazed his mind; he collapsed to the ground, feeling his awareness fade and his heartbeat slow down.

“There we go, you can remove that junk now.”

Bradley scoffed, but complied, and the scaffolding flew aside, not needed to keep Oscar immobilized anymore as he grew weaker and weaker, barely aware of his surroundings. The officers heaved him from the ground and began carrying him towards the car, with Bradley following them with a light step.

“Thanks for catching him”, one of the officers said with a nod towards Bradley. “He’s small fry, but he was annoyingly good at getting away.”

“No problem.” Bradley hummed to himself, slowing down until he stopped, frowning. “And, hm… Officer?”

“Yes?”

“I might keep him, actually.”

For a moment everything was still as Bradley’s words rang in the air, and he smiled to himself, his idea burning like an exciting spark in his mind. The officer chuckled quietly and nodded.

“Of course”, he said. “We’ll stay in touch, then.”

“Sure.”

Bradley watched as Oscar’s wings were restrained with plastic tape and his hands cuffed, and he was pushed into the back of the car, which then took off, leaving the neighborhood quiet again, with no one around to have witnessed what just happened. He turned around on his heel and walked away, heading towards his original destination - a club offering slightly more anonymity than those he usually frequented.

And now he had something to celebrate with a cocktail or two.

[next]

[pixie-cocaine]

ATEEZ Reaction To: Having a wet dream about you

yourusernames: Omg can I request ATEEZ reaction to having a wet dream about their friend? (Who would start developing a crush, who would want to have a one night stand and who wouldn't care at all?) Thanks!!

A/N: These reactions are based solely off of what I think they’d do, I am in no way, shape or form, telling you that this IS how the members would handle this scenario. Like shit, I dunno the guys :/. This is a gender neutral reader reaction btw :)

(This is very explicit, you have been warned!!!)

Hongjoong ♡:

• It felt like the actual thing

• Your lips; sweet like pink lemonade and eyes staring into his with a soft sparkle that originated from his bedside lamp

• but what felt more real than anything was you

• Your scent, your taste

• Your touch...

• It was all overwhelming in the sense that he found himself breaking out of his dreaming state, breath heavy as if he’d been sprinting for hours, and a lusty sheen screening his mind from acting with any sense of rationality

• He was horny horny, dawg 💀

• I feel for that man, it’s tough...

• He could already tell that he had an...accident, before he pushed the duvet off his body due to registering the last couple twitches of his restricted cock in his shorts

• No wonder he could ‘feel’ everything so well

• He wasn’t able to sleep the rest of the night.

• Couldn’t help but begin to feel a crush blossom for you

• As y’all already know, the man gets attached to the ones he spends the most time with

• You’re no exception

• Would end up telling you about his feelings. It was eating him up inside to keep it to himself

Seonghwa ♡:

• He has no right looking this good, dawg. It literally makes me so mad lmao

• Lemme lick your face, I bet it tastes like expensive concealer and everything I’ll never have >:}

• Anywhore

• He felt feverish, even inside his dream

• It was odd; he could feel you, but he couldn’t feel you. He remembers the surreal sensation of warmth under his palms as he grabbed onto your bare ass whilst you bounced you on top of him, panting hard and clutching at his damp hair to pull his head back

• He groaned, and just as he went to switch positions, he was snapped out of his dream

• Was like “Fuckin pardon?” when he realised where he was; his empty bed, alone in his own room, no sign of you

• Frowned, pushing the covers off of him because dawg, he was heating up OwO

• Then realised the large wet spot at the front of his sweatpants

• “What the...”

• Was never the same™ 

• Everytime he saw you, he couldn’t help but feel that same heat in his hands, and he felt guilty about it. 

• Didn’t know how to approach you about it at all. What was he supposed to say?

• “I nutted in my pants because I dreamt about doing the dirty with you”

• Just wouldn’t bring it up

• Good chance he’d catch feelings. Seonghwa builds bonds with the people he knows, it’s very easy to tell that when he cares, and he would care dearly for you. Once the chance that anything intimate between you two arises, I’m sure he’d begin to think of you romantically once you’re shown in said light.

Yunho ♡:

• Now wouldn’t a flustered Yunho be a sight? Damn...

• He loved looking down at you

• The way you smiled at him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling his bare chest into yours as you whispered how good he felt inside you, cooing out words of praise and encouragment 

• It was hazy, but he can still vaguely remember how you kissed him so sweetly. How your fingers smoothed his bangs away from his eyes, and how you moaned into his ear softly with each thrust

• It was only when you cupped his cheeks and spoke, did you break him out of his dream;

• “Wake up.”

• His eyes shot open

• Only a blue ceiling stared back

• “Mmm...?” Yunho sits up and rubs his eyes roughly, already aware of the blush that paints his cheeks and nose because he can feel the heat in his face

• Said ‘What the fawk 😃’ when his brain caught up with what he just experienced, as well as the stickiness that clung to his inner thighs when he moved to go get some water

• This bitch was contemplating his whole life after that

• Is ‘UwU’ with you from then on cuz a babie caught butterfwies ;(

• Rlly bad at hiding his feelings lol, you’d catch on eventually

Yeosang ♡:

• It was messy, to say the least

• Kitchen island sex? Yup :D

• The dream wasn’t at all put into play with any sense. You guys were just... in the kitchen, when you confessed your feelings and made a move on him

• A deep kiss mixed with the pounding of nervous hearts all put Yeosang in a fever outside of his dream

• “Say you like it,” You panted, using the hand on the back of his head to push his forehead against yours while the other kept you from laying onto the island

• “I like it.. Fuck, I like it”

• “Yeah?” His hips stutter when you clench your walls around him, and in turn, he lets out a choked-off gasp

• “Y一Oh my god一Yeah...”

• Damn... he was FEELING it lmao

• Funny thing is that he slept throughout the entire dream and woke up only when his foot did a little mid-sleep spasm

• Stared at the wall while frowning for soooooo fucking long

• Whole time he said ‘ya know wot, that’s real interesting 🤔’

• Then was like “Prolly just horny 😃. oh well, time to change my underwear”

• And that’s what he chalked it up to in the end. Would maybe make a joke about it to you next time y’all hung out if he’s feeling loose enough and doesn’t mull over it for too long

San ♡:

• HEATHEN

• Hold on, lemme get a half-assed feel for the man... yes... mm-hm... ah, I see... OK!

• So, from what I can tell, San would distance himself from you slightly. Maybe. 

• That night, as he lie in his bed, breath coming faster with each motion that went on in his head, he saw you in a way that he never thought would happen.

• Skin, slick with sweat and eyes like burning coals as they focused on him. There wasn’t much to remember before it was already fading, but he could still make out how much his stomach lept and spun, heart oh-so thunderous in his chest. Whatever you did with him in the dream... it sparked something inside him.

• San was in a daze as he woke up, his body not quite cooperating with him when he tried to sit up, and instead, falling limp with the next couple of attempts.

• WHEN I TELL YOU THE SOUL WAS SUCKED FROM THIS MAN AISDIUBFADEBI-

• Really just stared into space with the look of a dead man

• What did he do when he finally saw you again?

•  ✨ pretend he didn’t see shit ✨

• Not the masked uncomfort-

• Depending on whether you’re one for confrontation, he might just cave if you press him about his weird behavior enough, but be fast, because I’m sure he could push his feelings down succesfully if he tried hard enough.

Mingi ♡:

• Dude... the fucking happiness of the dream...

• Silly giggles when you’d accidentally bonk eachother while switching posititons, bright smiles when you stared at eachother after a long time, random compliments, and nothing too serious that you couldn’t find playfulness in. Even when you’d both stop smiling to let out small moans and feel the moment together, it was always lighthearted.

• FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK IM SO ANGRY-

• It was some shit you’d see at the sundance ;(

• Then he woke up-

• You were the first and only thing he thought about as he gained conciousness. He wanted you... you, you, you, just you.

• He’d never wanted anything so bad. A sudden longing that made a lump form in his throat and an overwhelming feeling of how much he’s always wanted you.

• So, like Mingi does, he strived for that goal >:D

• He made an effort to see you as many times as he could and whenever you were free to hang out. And finally, one night when you both lie in his bed and gazed thoughtlessly at the ceiling, he told you.

• “I had a dream about you, you know.”

Not me basically making a summary of a could-be fic-

Wooyoung ♡:

• Now believe it or not, this bitch is hard for me to get a grasp on. All I can say with confidence is that he has the sex appeal of a milf stripper and is kinda stubborn-

• Hmm.... bothered.

• That is the feeling it would pull from him.

• Hungry; frequent patterns of warm breath against sweat-slicked skin, mumbled curses past wet lips, nails dug into his stomach deep enough to draw blood yet barely acknowledged through animalistic films over both your eyes, and teeth furrowed into the flesh of his shoulder as you scratched at the blank canvas of his back.

• It was all raw sexual aggression from both sides. So much so, that you both practically fought during it.

“I hate you. I hate you like you don’t even know, Wooyoung,” You speak, breathless, and reach up to weave both fists into his hair, “I love you so much that I fucking... hate you.”

• Then...

• Gone.

• Just like that, the dream was replaced with the sight of familiar bedroom walls as Wooyoung opened his eyes, a sigh escaping past his lips when he finally pieced things together.

• “As if I wasn’t already stressed enough...,” He murmurs, staring down at the new stain on his sweatpants.

• From that point on, it’s a new habit for Wooyoung to catch sight of you and keep his gaze there; just staring when you’re not looking, and feeling terrible afterwards. He feels like he violated you somehow, and with that ball of dread in his stomach whenever he sees you, he becomes distant.

• It’s not catching feelings so much as it is a new desire.

Jongho ♡:

• Jongho, Jongho, Jongho... whatever will we do with you?

• Upfront about it, surprisingly.

• He caught feelings. How could he not when you’re one of the most breath-taking people he’s ever had the pleasure of knowing?

• That face of yours, along with your voice so soft and encouraging in his ears, was enough for him to cave.

• “Just like that, baby... Just like that.”

• He doesn’t even remember the details of the dream. Just your words and kisses, which still make the touched skin of his body heat with excitement whilst he blinks down at his hands.

• He clenches them; one, twice, then lets them fall back to his sides. He doesn’t need to look into his pants to know that he’s soiled himself.

• He feels kinda... empty? After the dream. Lmao just as exhausted as San was, really, but both at the fluttering his heart when he thinks of you, and the dream itself, so cleans himself up real quick before going back to sleep. 

• The fluttering doesn’t go away the next morning.

• So... he tells you :D

• As soon as you walk through the door, holding a bag of snacks and drinks for preparation to crash at Jongho’s apartment for a little bit, he sits you down on the couch, much to your confusion at the serious face he has.

• “I know that this kind of thing can ruin friendships and I don’t want that. At all. But, I had a... dream, about you last night and now I can’t really stop thinking about you...”

• Not the pounding of his heart making him dizzy :*

[blueprint-han]

midnight walk — bang chan.

— “I have to go back to the dorms, and so do you.” 

— “in which you and chan walk through a park during midnight to catch up on some much needed alone time, and you’re prominently reminded of how much you love him, and he does too.”

pairing: chan x (gn) reader 

word count: 3 k

genre: fluff, boyfriend au, idolverse au (though not very prominent throughout the fic)

⇥ warnings: none, very self indulgent making out but nothing sexual, just kissing. minimal dialogue, kissing in public even though there’s no people around, also this situation is just for fictional purposes okay, I am not encouraging any acts of pda that takes place here between idols or anyone (quite frankly i have no idea about it’s legality, but as I said, it’s fictional), it’s just for entertainment purposes. Please take it as such. Also this park is huge and Chan and Y/N walk pretty slowly, and they’re from different companies.

type: drabble.

⇥ disclaimer: This fic does not intend to represent the actions of the real Bang Chan in any way, shape of form, nor does it intend to represent JYPE. Events are pure fiction, please take them as such.

note — Something soft because I wanted to write. This idea was brought up in a convo between me and ella and it was originally for han but then I wrote it for chan because i need my comfort kpop boy right now. Also @meiiyue. I hope this is not shit but i have no idea haha. Please, please leave feedback. Not edited, please excuse grammatical errors and typos. I;m sorry is this is trash, I really haven’t written seriously in a while ;-;

The air over here is way too moist.

So much so that you can feel beads of sweat litter the top of your brow the moment it’s been five minutes since you’ve arrived. You suppose you can’t complain when you and Chan made up the plan to meet immediately after a heavy downpour — you loved the smell of rain and he wanted to see you — it was a win-win situation.

But where is he? 

You wipe your forehead with the back of your sleeve, clutching your umbrella tightly in one hand while simultaneously going through your phone with the other. Your surroundings are calm, quiet, peaceful, exactly what you need to delve into your own thoughts and relax from the actual week you’d gone through. You can feel the tension in your shoulders, very very slowly, seep away as a blanket of mental peace is wrapped around your shoulders. As nice as it feels to be alone in this quiet place, all you want right now, is to hold your boyfriend’s hand and revel in nature.

You make a “tsk” noise, brushing the hair stuck to your face before scrolling through your contacts. You’re about to click on the one that says “channieeee <3″ when you feel hands — warm hands, grab at your shoulders from behind, and you shriek at the sudden shock that overcomes you. Owing to it being very quiet in this park, you slam a hand over your mouth, turning around to see the only person you were waiting for this whole time, albeit not this way.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You frown, though a small smile does pull at your lips when your eyes meet his warm brown ones.

“I was letting you know of my presence?”

“By sneaking behind me and giving me a heart attack?”

“I was going to give you a back-hug—” Chan points out,  waking around the bench to sit down next to you, not needing to ask at all. “—but then you screamed and I had to revoke it.”

A part of you wishes that had happened — as terrifying as that encounter was, Chan gives  great hugs. One of a kind. It’s almost like every time his hands wrap around your waist or shoulders, every inch of stress, thoughts melt away, leaving you in a calm state of bliss. That’s what Chan’s hugs are — pure bliss and honestly, your escape.

You give yourself a second to analyze his sharp features. Soft eyes, delicate smile, the pale, soft skin on his cheek so inviting. In this place where you and Chan are together, all you want to do is crawl into his arms, let go of the barrier that surrounds you and just be... yourself. You want to cup his cheeks and kiss him, just like you do whenever you meet up in secret.

But there’s more secrecy and hiding involved in an idol’s life.

“Yeah, yeah.” You say, fixing your mask properly over your nose before standing from your place. “You know better than to revoke my hugs, Christopher.”

Chan chuckles in endearment. You only call him Christopher when you’re unsure of your own statement, and it’s evident in the way your words end like you’re questioning him. Chan’s waiting for the “...right?” that should be following soon, but, oh well. He knows himself that denying you isn’t something his heart would allow, especially not when you look at him like that. 

Eyes gleaming under the dim lights of the park at midnight, a soft, almost unseen smile that only he’s allowed to see adorning your lips, and soft, unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. You didn’t even have to tell him you missed him, or that you wished to be in his arms again, because the connection between the both of you was on a whole other level — he could read all your emotions, just from looking into your eyes.

“Can’t deny that, can I?” He says, getting up from his seat before smoothing his shirt, while you put your phone into your pouch and fix your coat. Then, his hands silently seek your own, lacing his fingers with your own as warmth spreads through your chest. His hand feels soft, even more so than the last time you met him. In a silent want to hold him close to you, you tighten your grip as you smile at him and he reflects it back.

You walk around the path slowly, each step lingering against the mossy ground for a good second before moving on to the other. It’s so, so calming. The cold, moist winds refreshingly cool against your skin now that you’re not sitting idle in one place, the darkness in the park oddly calming. There’s the slight chirping of insects that resounds through the space like gentle music, and eventually, you feel yourself relax as you take in your surroundings.

“So, how was your week?” You ask, feeling yourself blush when you silently lean your head against your shoulder whilst walking, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he snakes an arm around your waist, sending shivers up your spine when he gently smooths the fabric of your coat with his thumb.

“Stressful, honestly.” The both of you turn around the corner without second thought. You’ve done this so many times, it’s like your bodies are being pulled to the place you wish so hard to be in right now. You missed him. You missed him so, so much. You can see the stress lines on his forehead and the darkness around his eyes, almost sure that he isn’t getting enough sleep either. After a long pause where you take in his words, he murmurs silently. “Missed you during the shoot.”

“Awh darling,” You coo, pressing a soft kiss onto his shoulder, and even though he doesn’t feel it through his own coat, Chan can feel himself smile affectionately. Every tiny gesture you provide is just so... attracting. Comforting. Be it lacing your fingers through his hair and stroking gently to lull him into sleep or just a hand against his thigh, a soft whisper of an “I’m here” when his stress gets the best of him and he’s clinging desperately onto your shirt, fluttering of your lips all over his face the occasional time you wake up together, or just this — walking through a park at midnight because it’s hard to meet up when you’re both popular idols, hand in hand with almost no words spoken. Everything about you is just so... beautiful. “Did you eat and drink well this week?”

“I did. You wouldn’t stop texting me every day, remember?” Chan laughs, the kind that makes your heart flutter and do backflips.

“It’s very necessary. We both know you're total ass at taking breaks.”

“Hey!” Chan pouts, almost offended at your statement. “I’m trying, okay?” He then smiles, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, inhaling the fruity scent of your shampoo. “Besides, I have an amazing girlfriend to remind me, am I right?”

“Yeah yeah.” You brush him off, feeling the light grow darker in a particular section of the path, and that’s when you know you’ve reached the place you’ve been walking towards. There’s a bench placed in this place too — it’s the perfect spot for hidden conversations and maybe, kisses, because the chicken wire is completely hidden by trees, making this spot invisible from the outside.

“There it is.” You point out and Chan follows in pursuit, dusting the seat off for you slightly. Once you’ve sat down, you feel your cheeks burn, because the events that take place once the both of you find this spot has been engrained in your mind at this point. They’re the kind that get you flustered every time you see Chan in the JYP building the next day.

The chirping of insects is so much more intense here, yet you don’t even hear it when Chan puts an arm on your shoulder, gently sweeping his thumb against the material of your overcoat, a soft smile taking over his lips as your eyes lock. 

A gush of wind then sweeps past you, the chill in the air higher over here than near the entrance. You lean into Chan and he gets the idea immediately, pulling his coat over the both of you as you snuggle into his shoulder. He’s warm, so warm, so cozy, all you want to do is melt into his embrace and stay. Stay locked in this position you’ve grown accustomed to and found yourself in many times, with the gentle murmur of wind and chirping resounding all around you, almost like you’re trapped in utopia. You want to stay right here, but unfortunately, time runs fast.

“It’s cold.” He comments, and you let the words settle into the air.

“You’re warm.”

At that, Chan feels his smile widen genuinely, his grip on your shoulders tightening just the slightest before he trails up to tangle his fingers with your hair. You feel yourself tense before melting further, lifting your head up to look into his eyes, and my gosh, you can see the whole galaxy in them. His eyes are more sparkly, more lustrous than the clear night sky that lies above him, though the combined visual is truly enough to take your breath away.

“Always for you.”

One second, you feel his hand gently hold your chin and tip your head up, and the next, he leans to press his lips to your own. A mixture of warmth, fuzziness and nervousness bubbles inside you, mostly because you’re suddenly aware of the fact that you’re in the park — pitch black with dim lighting, yes, but still a public space.

Well, blame it on you for telling your partner you wanted thrill in your life when you were on your first date. It wasn’t a regular occurrence when you and Chan had the idea of meeting up at the park every Saturday midnight, kissing each other at midnight in a park where the trees were barely covering the partitions. Quite frankly, you have no idea when this whole thing started, all you know is that it became quite a frequent occurrence to go home with your cheeks feeling warm and your thumbs fidding with the collar of your shirt.

Your hands stay frozen on your lap and your brain fills with white noise. His lips feel so, so soft against your own as you basically melt against him. You can feel your knees go weak even though you’re sitting down, and Chan’s hands immediately grip your arms as though to cage you from your surroundings. Being in his arms seems like a whole other world to you. They surround you like that warm whiff of air when you get back home after a cold day at work, lock you against his body and protect you against any negativity that may threaten to look your way. Being in his arms, you feel like you’re in a cage you never want to get out from. A cage in which you are complete, you are content, you are loved.

And so, you gently press your palm to his cheek, running his thumb against the high end of his cheekbone, humming when you feel the soft skin underneath. His lips linger against your own for two seconds before he pulls away, feeling your delicate touch against his cheek. Then, he slowly turns to brush his lips against your palm, leaving a soft kiss there, and my god, you feel like your heart is gonna beat out of your chest. It’s too much for you to handle, his gestures are too sweet, to loving for you to not turn into a flustered mess.

He leans in once again, and this time, you cup his cheeks, pulling him closer until your lips meet and move in a synchrony of pure bliss. The hum he lets out is your favorite kind of music, it always build up the want for you to hear more. It’s just a pure expression of love that the both of you share, erasing every memory of anything else except each other. You love him, he loves you. That is all, and that is enough.

You never really knew that the man who wore his heart on his sleeve would end up meaning so much to you, but now that he’s yours, you never want to let him go.

It seems very practiced, owing to the countless times you’ve done this before, yet making your heart flutter all the same when the words “I love you” leave his lips in a hushed whisper. Only you’re allowed to hear those words, that tone, that beaming smile that pulls at his lips when his eyes meet your own even in this darkness. Even in this darkness, he thinks you look absolutely stunning, and all he wants to do is tell you how much he loves you over and over again. Well, that’s love. And love is an amazing thing to experience, you can say for sure.

You let yourself smile into the kiss before leaving a quick peck and pulling away, feeling him do the same before opening his eyes and gazing at your features. You shyly look to the side, noticing the leaves that sway gently where the gentle wind hits them. 

Even though the atmosphere is cold, you feel fuzzy and warm when Chan giggles, sparing a quick look to his watch before intertwining your fingers with his.

“Come on, we have some time before leaving, we can play on the swings.”

Oh, he knows the child in you too well.

When you’re done swinging the swings and collecting some flowers that seem fresh, you circle the route of of the park and back to the entrance, it’s already one in the morning. Most — especially your group members — would argue that the both of you should’ve been sleeping by now, owing to your hectic schedule that leaves you weary by the end of the day. But you tell them sometimes, just to get that one hour to spend with your lover, you’re willing to make the sacrifice — and seeing the loving, misty glint in your eyes, they understand.

“So, I guess... I’ll see you tomorrow?” Chan says, and you kick the air gently before pulling your mask over your face. Seeing you, he does the same.

“Yeah, you’ll be in your studio, right? I can drop by.” 

“Yeah. So, um...” You and Chan can never seem to ever part ways once your quality time with each other comes to a halt, the both of you want to reach out and embrace, and never leave. You often wonder what lead to your silent life being plagued with the essence of love, but then you see Chan, and you smile when you realise the answer.

And so, as if trying to hold onto the moment, freeze time a bit, you turn to him and pull him into a hug. He immediately responds and wraps his arms around your shoulders, resting his head on your neck as you sway from side to side. The road is quiet with the occasional vehicle speeding past, but you pay no attention to it. All you feel is Chan’s welcoming arms, his familiar smell that clouds your senses and makes you feel relaxed than ever.

“I love you, so much.” You murmur, not even sure if he’s able to hear it, but he does. He always does.

“I love you too.”

At that, you try to pull away to look into his eyes one last time, but Chan doesn’t let you, pulling his arms tighter across you and holding you close.

You laugh. “Chan.”

“Yes?” He drags the word and smirks mischievously.

“I have to go back to the dorms, and so do you.” You remind. “It’s late.”

“Mmh, alright.” He says, straightening himself from the embrace but not quite letting go yet. “But give me one more kiss before you go.”

You raise an eyebrow before looking around. While the interior of the park does have trees and stuff to cover the walls, the entrance doesn’t, and that sparks some nervousness within you, though you aren’t exactly worried. You’ve gotten away with stuff like this before, when either of you gets clingy and wants that one last lingering moment before you go your separate ways.

You lean in slowly and he just stands there, waiting for you to kiss him with that smile that he just can’t contain when he looks at you. When you pull both your masks down and your lips meet, it’s only for one tiny peck. You then quickly pull away and pull your mask over your face again, and Chan, though giggling furiously at the way he can see you’ve gone a little warm at the action, does the same.

You then bid goodbye and walk your way back home, the warmth that lingers all over skin so, so soothing to your mind. It’s like someone took away all your worries, leaving you in a bubble of contentment. It’s almost surprising how in the grand scheme of things, one person could stumble into your way and completely take your breath away, all because of the word we call love. You’ve realised how love means so much to you after Chan entered your life, and you don’t seem to be changing that idea any time soon.

When you’re almost close to home, your phone dings with a message, with the sender id “channieeee <3″. Instantly, you click on the message.

channieeee <3: so channieeee <3: same time tomorrow?  channieeee <3: pls 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 pls pls pls pls-

A dizzy, pure smile captures your expression, and so, not wanting to delay your plans to meet your lover again, you reply.

y/n: same time tomorrow, then 🥺💞 love you <3

*:･ﾟ✧ find the other fics here !

[consumeconstantly]

Who Are You (and what will you become?)

1(you are here)| 2 | 3 | 4

Summary: “Over the years, I have found that blood means very little.” 

The ice clicks against the glass almost inaudibly, condensation dripping down the side. 

“So tell me, M. Wayne, why do you think I should even begin to consider you my father?” (all biodad bruce can be read as stand alone but are posted in chronological order)

__________________________________________________

At the tender age of nineteen, Marinette Dupain-Cheng has already become a jaded woman. It doesn’t shine through very often, hidden behind a carefully crafted facade of Parisian-brand carefree attractiveness and pigtailed youthfulness, but there exists, in Marinette, a certain bitterness.

“For a vigilante, you’re not very secretive,” Marinette remarks, keeping her tone measured, almost playful, so as not to draw attention to herself. 

“Marinette.” Bruce inclines his head and allows the bartender to serve him a whiskey sour. He doesn’t drink alcohol because it alters his mental state in ways that are unpleasant, but ordering a drink helps him fit in, and with Marinette, the person he wants to talk to, right at his side, he can’t have his normal ginger ale substitute. “It’s good to see you.”

“Mmm.” She takes a sip of her French 75, playing up an interest that Bruce knows is a lie. “M. Wayne, you say that as though we’re familiar with each other.”

“Sabine and I were close,” he says. 

Sabine is one of the few people who knew about his existence as Batman that didn’t live in Gotham. Many years ago, they were friends. Colleagues. (More.) Of course she told her daughter about who he was. How could she not have? 

Sabine is-- she was--

“Close, you call it,” she says with mock awe, words slurring together. “Closer than close, really. Too close for comfort— at least, too close for you.”

When Bruce and Sabine’s paths crossed all those years ago, he was struggling trying to raise Dick. Sabine was equal parts a mother and a mentor to Dick in all the ways that Bruce couldn’t be. When she left for Paris so abruptly after the two of them parted ways, Dick didn’t take it very well. Even moreso when communications halted permanently. The fact that the radio silence coincided with Marinette’s birth is something only Bruce is privy to.

However awkwardly he and Sabine left off, it doesn’t change the facts. Bruce’s lips thin. “I’m here to offer you a home.”

Swirling her French, Marinette taps at her phone, swiping away at a few messages that she’s not interested in. “I’m nineteen and more than capable of taking care of myself. Though I suppose it stands to reason that it would be difficult for you to know that, what with how busy your extracurriculars keep you.”

“I’m not doubting your capabilities.” He’s looked into what Marinette has been up to over the past nineteen years of her life. He’s never been particularly concerned with her upbringing, not with a woman like Sabine at the helm of her childhood. Bruce was right not to be worried; Marinette has grown into a multi talented, extremely well connected entrepreneur based on her own hard work. Judging by the crowd that she runs with and the multiple charities that she supports both financially and with her own time, she will be a force to be reckoned with in a few years; Tim regularly extols the virtues of the brand MDC, and if he knew that he was sisters with the designer, he’d never stop raving about her. MDC is already being compared to the likes of Dior and Gabriel when they were first starting out. Her finances aren’t anything to scoff at, and at a few galas and charity parties that he’s had to entertain, anyone who's had the privilege to wear an MDC original talks about how sweet and kind the head designer is while complimenting the CEO’s business savvy.

Bruce has to admit that he’s impressed by how she manages to keep her identities separate. No one suspects the head designer to also be manning publicity and business. 

He’s been watching her for the past day, and he has to say, for somebody whose parents just died, she carries herself with remarkable ease. If not for the red around her eyes and line of shots on the bartop, Bruce would believe that Tom and Sabine’s death didn’t phase her at all. 

“There’s a but, isn’t there?” Marinette says bitterly.

She’s right in that assumption. As skillful as Marinette is in her field, she has no practical combat experience. A brief stint in fencing and martial arts but nothing beyond that. Even if she practiced martial arts for years, that wouldn’t be enough to convince Bruce to let her go off on her own. Martial arts as a hobby is an entirely different game than fighting for one’s life. 

Marinette is simply not the kind of person who can face down a League member and come out of it alive. 

“It’s for your safety.”

For the first time since entering the bar, Bruce sees a flash of true emotion cross Marinette’s eyes. It’s hard to see the color of her eyes in the dim lighting, but it’s impossible not to see Sabine in how her eyes narrow. Perhaps the dim lighting makes it easier to; in the light of day, Marinette’s eye color— it’s too similar to the shade he sees in the mirror. 

“My safety? What about my parent’s safety?” 

At that, Bruce internally cringes while keeping his face carefully blank. Tom and Sabine… their end wasn’t pretty. Not the most gruesome deaths he’s ever seen, but it was up there. Bruce never thought the League would do something as cruel as desecrating the corpses of the people they murdered. They may be assassins for hire, but most times, they do have some sort of morals. 

The worst part about it is that their death is most likely a result of Sabine’s past relationship with him. Last month, a tabloid that drew comparisons between Marinette and Bruce. It didn’t take long for another person to dredge up pictures from when he was still with Sabine. Tom and Sabine didn’t have enemies well-off enough to hire the League. But Bruce? Bruce did. 

“I’m not interested in any protection you have to offer me.” Marinette shakes her head. “Don’t worry. I’m not like you. I won’t become a vigilante out of rage or as a coping mechanism. I’m not going to go chasing after the League in a foolish pursuit of misguided justice.”

But Marinette doesn’t understand. She has a target on her back with her newfound association to him.  

“I haven’t been active in your life--”

“Understatement of the year,” Marinette mutters.

“--but I’m not going to let you die when I can prevent it.”

Downing the rest of her French, she takes the Moscow Mule away from Bruce’s hands, eyeing the liquor up on display. She drinks the cold alcohol and revels in the burn that slides down her throat. Marinette swipes on one of the notifications she’s received on her phone in order to respond to it. “You’re a good man, Bruce. But your desire to protect me— what does it stem from? What do we have in common? Why would you use your time and effort on what’s essentially a stranger?”

Bruce has no good answer for this, but he has an obvious one. As soon as it leaves his tongue, it feels wrong. “We share the same blood.”

He can’t bring himself to call Marinette his daughter. That means that he would be her father and he’s not deserving of that title.

Marinette pockets her phone, eyes trained on a set of unusually shaped glasses on the shelves. “If that’s your answer, M. Wayne, let me tell you something. Over the years, I have found that blood means very little.” 

The bartender comes around and tops off the whiskey sour. The ice clicks against the glass almost inaudibly, condensation dripping down the side. Bruce can’t tell whether the bartender knows Marinette or not, but he certainly looks concerned enough to, with how his eyes shift between Marinette and himself rapid fire. When the bartender’s gaze settles on Bruce, mouth turned downward, clearly suspicious of his presence, Marinette just waves him off with a gentle smile. 

Her smile turns up the same way Tom’s did. She’s right; family is more than blood. 

“Your answer to why you want to protect me is that we share blood, but you speak nothing of our relationship. Shouldn’t that have been the first thing you brought up?”

Bruce shifts uncomfortably on the bar stool. Marinette just laughs at his apparent awkwardness. “Talking of blood relations seems to be something you don’t enjoy, and yet the entire premise of your protection rests on it. Tell me, M. Wayne, do you think I should even begin to consider you my father?”

Even as inebriated as Marinette must be, she brings up points that he himself wondered on his way to Paris. Wanting to see Marinette safe goes beyond a simple duty to morality and virtue. Though Bruce is known for adopting kids with tragic backstories, it simply isn’t feasible to adopt every single one he comes across. To bring Marinette into his family at this age, to expose her to the life he lives would be beyond cruel. In essence he’d be replacing two parents with a ticking time bomb: himself. 

“Don’t consider me a parent, just a guardian. It’s in my best interest to see you safe, and the best way to do that is to have you move to Gotham, where my colleagues and I can assure you around the clock protection.”

At first, he distanced himself from Sabine and Marinette because he didn’t want to disrupt her current relationship with Tom. Even if the two of them insisted that he could still be part of Marinette’s life, it just didn’t feel right to have the title of father when he wasn’t the one to put in any of the hard work. Then, as Tom and Sabine grew more comfortable in their life together, settled down and opened up a bakery, he was blindsided by Jason’s death. As his daughter grew older and older, there were just too many things in his own life for him to ever hope to kindle a relationship with Marinette.

Marinette laughs, but it’s really more of a bark. Her voice is too hoarse for it to come out any other way. Bruce can’t imagine how much she’s cried this past week. “If you wanted to keep me safe, where were you a week ago? Where were you two years ago? Where were you when I was thirteen? M. Wayne, I’ve heard a lot of rumors about you throughout the years, and I’ve always brushed them off as nothing more than tabloid gossip. But perhaps they got one thing right about you: you’re a liar.”

Marinette stands, swaying slightly.

“This— if you truly want me to uproot my life, I need more than you saying it’s in your best interest. I need—” Marinette reaches up to her earrings and allows her eyes to flutter shut. She needs more than a distant guardian. She needs someone to confide in. Someone she trusts. “It was nice meeting you, but I don’t need your pity. Not now.”

As she weaves through the crowd, Bruce can’t help but wonder whether he made the right decision all those years ago to not be apart of her life.

@biodad-bruce-month

Late to the game as always. This will be a multichapter fic but all parts can be read as one shots (and also as always anything posted to tumblr is never checked for accuracy and stuff so whoop)! They’ll be released in chronological order. If you want to get tagged in all things maribat, instead of commenting it under a fic, I’d appreciate an ask or a dm instead! I haven’t been able to go back through all the previous comments and create a taglist yet but perhaps. eventually. 

[neonponders]

I’m so sorry that I don’t remember who originally posted about Steve accidentally calling Billy, Daddy, and Billy - naturally - going feral for it.

But daydreaming about this helped me sleep so ~ enjoy! (If anyone knows the post I’m talking about, I’ll happily add a link to it in a reblog and the ao3 notes.)

Read on ao3 here.

Featuring reunion/aged up trope ~ (I didn’t really keep canon in mind for this, but if you want it to be post season 3, that’s fine.)

It’s a strange twilight zone, meeting someone again. Being complete strangers with a history.

Not the best history, either, so Steve just had to laugh to himself while he sat on Billy Hargrove’s couch. The guy looked up from the kitchen counter across the open floor plan. “What?”

And Steve might be internally combusting a bit-

A lot.

Because Billy’s hot. Like...Steve can actually appreciate it now. It’s not the first time he feels like a fool for being too slow. Billy was a looker in high school; easily one of the guys who completed puberty first and knew it. Made him an asshole for it. And people liked assholes.

Steve guessed he just didn’t do it right. Being the mean guy. But that was far behind them, now, and Billy’s late twenties were doing him favors.

Steve supposed if young, spry, Adonis Billy came with being a complete dick, then he could appreciatively leave him behind. Because Billy wasn’t a complete dick anymore. And the man strolling back across the room with a pair of whiskey sours was definitely, 100%, burning a hole through Steve’s jeans better than the show-off from high school ever did.

Steve reckoned Adonis never got laid nearly as much as Zeus or Poseidon anyway, which he only knew from Robin’s ramblings about her Greek theatre class. Steve earned a distinct wrinkling of her nose when he said, “Lettuce? Adonis is symbolized with lettuce? Yeah, no. Aphrodite, that cougar, fell for a twink while Daddy Poseidon was getting whoever he wanted with his beard and all.”

Robin had barked a laugh but chided, “Please don’t ever call Poseidon, “Daddy,” ever again. Oh my god.”

Joke’s on her, because now she referred to the gods and heroes by whatever name Steve gave them.

And the joke was on Steve. Because he was definitely the twink in this new situation he found himself in.

Billy had always been stacked. But the guy walking through the university gallery to make Steve’s heart stop beating in his chest was something else. He wasn’t even bigger, really. Something just...happened as soon as a person could see 30 closer than 20. Steve had first noticed it with Robin, because they spent the most time together. Obviously that crush had been snuffed out with her gentle coming-out to him years ago, but Steve still had eyes in his head. Robin aged really well. Steve had begun to wonder if he was aging nearly as gracefully.

Billy, that bastard, strolled right up to him with a freaking mustache of all things, invited them to lunch the next day - where he had switched to clean shaven - and now sat on his couch in his newly built apartment complex with a sweating, rattled Steve. He had neatly pulled him aside before the three of them parted the restaurant to invite Steve over for drinks that evening.

Steve was unprepared for the sculpted scruff on the man’s face now. He’d never seen a guy switch facial hair styles like he was changing shirts. Frankly, he didn’t know anybody who could just grow it that easily.

Steve gulped loudly around his whiskey sour.

It was Billy’s turn to laugh under his breath. “You okay? You never answered me.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, a little out of breath. “I’m just...reeling, here. I think the last conversation we had involved a fist fight.”

Billy laughed again and Steve’s eyes trailed over the shirt fitting perfectly around his built shoulders. Maybe Billy is bigger. In like a...domestic sort of way. Like he still had all his muscle but didn’t throw a fit over a bowl of pasta. Steve is still taller. Steve still had that, at least, but he sure felt like his second puberty hadn’t graced him yet.

Billy was talking. Pay attention, Steve.

Something about Robin. Steve replied, and hoped he was answering close to whatever Billy had said, “Robin teaches there and some of her students were in the exhibition. It’s an art nerd thing. Everybody’s involved, even if it’s not your subject.”

Steve couldn’t tell if the pause was Billy processing or if Steve had been completely off the mark. Deflect. Reroute! his brain told him, so he asked, “Did we ever ask how you knew about the gallery?”

“Max goes to school there.”

“Oh,” Steve chirped bluntly. “Small world.”

Billy hummed a sound low in his chest. Something vibrated inside Steve and he closed his eyes in a hard blink, grasping at flimsy straws for composure. Billy finished, “I was in the area. Definitely a pleasant surprise to see your familiar face.”

“My Lego head?” Steve gestured vaguely at himself. “I guess this block always did stand out.”

Billy huffed a surprised sound, like he hadn’t expected that, but he let it tumble into easy laughter. “You look good. I never saw you with short hair.”

His fingers pushed the arching swoop of Steve’s fringe behind his ear. The briefest touch across his temple finishing on his neck...

I’m going to have a heart attack.

“Thanks. That goes for the both of us.”

Just like he almost missed never snatching a chance with high school Billy, Steve only kinda missed never getting his hands on that mullet. Only to know how soft that hair actually was. Not like Billy needed it, of course. Truly absurd, how he rocked any hair situation on his head that wasn’t shaped like a Lego person’s.

Steve finished his whiskey in the next gulp.

He could feel Billy’s laser blue eyes notice this, and then he stood from the couch. “I’m getting us some waters.”

“Okay,” Steve chimed dumbly. Feeling dumb.

Jesus Christ, it’s Scoops all over again. You suck. You suck-

“Poseidon liked a twink too, you nimrod,” Robin had teased back. “His name was Anteros.”

“And he dies too, right?”

“Nope. He’s basically Poseidon’s husband and chauffeur.”

“Aw. Good for Daddy P.”

Billy returned. “Are you one of these people who likes seltzers?”

Steve blindly took the can while his thoughts slammed mutinously into, Daddy B. B is kinda cute. Shorter-

“Thanks-

Billy.

-daddy.”

Steve opened the can before it sank in what he’d just said. Carbonation gently kissed his skin as he held the can to his lips but didn’t drink. Some may or may not have landed in his lap before he lowered it to see Billy’s unreadable face.

“Oh my god.” Steve rushed to place the can on the coffee table and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“Did you...?”

“Don’t say it,” he pleaded, removing a hand as if to physically defend against the words in the air.

“Steve-”

His words came muffled from where he hid inside his hands. “Oh my god. I’m gonna throw up.”

He stood up - to go where, he didn’t really know. Probably best to just leave at this point. Way to choke. Way to absolutely choke, Harrington. You don’t even know if Billy’s bi and you just deep-dived into WEIRD-

“I’m really sorry,” he rushed as he stepped around the coffee table.

“Steve.” Billy gripped his arm and pulled right back onto the couch as if it were easy. Steve more than landed in his spot, he landed flush against Billy. His thigh felt Billy’s warmth, and his lips stayed parted to keep breathing when he realized how close their faces were. 

Billy this close was something else, and Steve didn’t have the brain power to navigate it.

“Say it again.”

So it took him a long minute to absorb that. Was he seeing stars? So much for breathing.

“Huh?”

Steve’s lashes sagged heavily over his eyes when Billy leaned tantalizingly close. Either of them could stick their tongues out and taste the other’s lips.

Don’t, he commanded his mutinous subconscious.

“Say it again, Steve.”

He wondered which was louder: his thunderous heart or the racket in his brain trying to turn rusty gears. He whispered against Billy’s skin, “I didn’t mean to say it.”

A hand, gentle but there, found Steve’s nape. “I’m telling you to say it on purpose.”

Was he making fun of him? Steve couldn’t tell. He hadn’t spent more than a handful of hours with him. But his voice made that thing in Steve’s body vibrate and his brain had officially declared itself a lost cause.

In for a penny, in for a pound. Steve closed the gap - tiny as it was - and involuntarily moaned at the softness of Billy’s lips. The hand on his nape tightened and another came to hold the front of his throat; not pressing against his windpipe, but Billy’s fingertips held Steve’s jaw in place and his palm surely felt the drumming of Steve’s heart.

Steve’s tongue couldn’t help itself. He touched the plush skin of Billy’s upper lip, ever so lightly-

Billy groaned, wanton and hungry as he pushed entirely into Steve’s personal space. The latter gasped at the sound, and then he really did see stars as Billy’s tongue fucked against his own. He tasted sour and sweet and the citrus mixed with Billy’s natural taste in such a way that Steve tilted his head for more, pushed right back into Billy’s space.

Steve’s body rotated enough that his knee bumped into Billy’s. Then Billy was gripping that joint hard enough to bruise so that he could pull Steve all the way around to straddle him. Steve clumsily climbed onto his lap, grateful for the influx of air as Billy planted wet kisses and pressed his tongue into Steve’s pulse. He didn’t really know what the boundaries were anymore. This was explosive and sudden and Steve sat, unsure, higher up on Billy’s thighs-

“Ahh!” he burst when Billy gripped his hips and yanked his pelvis flush against him. Steve’s moan clipped short into a small ache of pain. The way his jeans tightened with the stretch of his thighs crimped into his already throbbing erection.

Billy opened his jeans. Steve’s voice escaped with his gasp when the colder backs of his fingers touched his belly as he dipped into Steve’s underwear. He stood up on his knees to give Billy the room to free his erection, and Steve couldn’t help the moan that exhaled out of him when he sat back down, feeling Billy’s soft shirt against his red cockhead.

Steve shivered as Billy’s hands slid up and around his body, mapping out Steve’s topography and shoving his shirt as high as Steve’s collarbones. Steve felt like a lewd wet dream: an exposed, panting mess on Billy’s lap. His heart ricocheted around his ribs with the sharp tickle of stubble, and he whimpered as it scraped over his nipple and chest.

“Your shirt,” he heaved, knowing he was dripping precum. “Billy-”

“Call me what you did before.” He reached into the back of Steve’s jeans and gripped a handful of his ass that had Steve lurching forward and bucking into the softness of that shirt and tummy, the warmth of Billy’s body. Steve whined when Billy held him down, unable to move.

“Say it. Whatever you want. Just say it for me.”

Steve bought a little time by kissing him, hard. Hard enough to make Billy lie back into the couch, his head tilted up to moan into Steve’s mouth. Steve’s lips nuzzled the side of his lips and began an exploratory trail across Billy’s cheek and jaw, down to his throat.

“I just...wanna feel all of this on me. I wanna feel your beard so much I’ll still feel it tomorrow... Daddy.”

Steve’s voice pitched to the ceiling when a hand gripped his hair. Billy’s other hand released his ass cheek to push encouragingly on Steve’s lumbar the same time he drew Steve’s earlobe into his mouth. Steve gripped the couch upholstery behind Billy’s shoulders as he bucked against him, rutting like a teenager. Billy’s own jaw fell for his moan to escape when Steve’s ass and backs of his thighs moved over his own cock trapped in his pants.

Steve tried to slow down a little, to rub against him without making the fabric chaff. “Daddy, what do want?”

If he didn’t feel Billy’s heartbeat before, he sure as hell did now. Steve felt it against his hands as he sought to know the contours of Billy’s shoulders and chest. He watched Billy’s swallow through the gorgeous neck that lay open to him as Billy gazed up at him. One of his hands traced the gently twitching artery on the side. Steve began to pepper slow, audible kisses against his face. When he landed on Billy’s lips, Billy kissed back, and when he wandered all the way up to Billy’s temple, Billy let him. Only his hands moved sluggishly between Steve’s thighs and his waist, seeking skin underneath his shirt.

Steve came back down to whisper against Billy’s lips, “Daddy?”

It was a blur of movement punctuated by Steve’s surprised yelp of glee as Billy threw him onto his back on the couch. Billy kissed the laughter out of his flushed, red throat, growling in satisfaction at how those bubbles of mirth sank into breathy moans.

“I’ve wanted you for years, pretty boy.”

Steve’s brain didn’t absorb that so much as his body did. Pinballs of emotion and sensation darted to and from his groin. He lifted his leg to rest across the back of the couch and to give Billy access to whatever he wanted.

Strong hands moved carefully - fondly - over Steve’s thighs. A stuttering breath left him when Billy clutched the backs of his legs. A sweet ache to have the muscle squeezed there.

“Don’t hold back on me now, baby,” Billy taunted, pressing his hands into the couch on either side of Steve and aligning his bulge with Steve’s hole and undercarriage still inside his jeans. “Let me hear you.”

Steve’s other leg wrapped around him and he lifted his pelvis to grind against Billy’s front. Billy’s bravado melted into an anguished, blissed-out frown as he shut his eyes against the sensation. When he opened them, Steve held his cock in hand, pumping himself in time with his pelvis rolling up to meet Billy.

It was sloppy and desperate and Steve didn’t think he ever did this even as a teenager. It had all been a small town rush to get hands or mouths on skin and get rid of the stigmatizing V-card. Except when Steve was in love, and allowed to take his time...

Steve didn’t know if he was in love now. But as another wave of ticklish warmth darted through him, Steve laughed a little.

“What?” Billy asked, not unlike the first time.

“I just...I just like this, that’s all,” Steve admitted. “You feel good. You smell good. Ahh! I’m close.”

“Let me see you, baby. Let me taste the mess you make.”

That didn’t so much as nudge Steve off the cliff as it drop kicked him into his orgasm.

“Hahh! Daddy, I’m there! I’m there...”

The mind-halting knot of sensation burst inside him with a force that let Steve not even care that he craned his face toward the arm of the couch, moaning and splashing his hair over the upholstery like a romance novel cover.

He realized somewhere in the middle that Billy had grasped his cock and was the reason his climax kept going. Milking little dribbles of cum out of him. Steve hadn’t cum like this in years, and he lay riveted to Billy hastening his rhythm to chase his own cliff edge.

The furrowed brows of concentration on Billy’s face were wiped off by Steve gripping his shirt and yanking him down for Steve to taste him, to plunder his mouth and feel that soft material against his own bare, messy torso. 

Billy shuddered and pushed, pushed against Steve like he meant to bury his cockhead inside as he came. The visual sent an aching thrill into Steve’s core, knowing how Billy looked when he came and knowing that he’d cum inside. It made Steve eager to feel the pressure of his thrusts and the aftershocks when he pulled out to repeat it all again.

Steve had just cum like a seventeen year old and wanted to go all the way, with Billy’s hands all over his backside and his scruff against Steve’s ass cheeks-

Billy’s hand brushed over his hair and eased around to cradle his head. “What are you thinking behind those big eyes?”

Steve blinked drunkenly up at him even though it certainly wasn’t whiskey giving him this high. “My eyes?”

“Mmhm,” Billy hummed through lips pressing into a content smile. He hovered over his elbows, still framing Steve in but not crowding him. Fingertips pressed little swirls over his scalp, drifting around his ear. “I like your big, doe eyes.”

No one ever commented on his eyes. His hair, obviously. His butt. His shoulders. His moles. Billy gazed down at him, searching through Steve’s thoughts. The way he always had, really.

“Thinkin’ about you creaming me instead of your pants.”

Billy turned his head to the side so he didn’t laugh directly in Steve’s face. “Only if I’m not dreaming this time.”

This time.

God, Steve liked what that implied.

His arms came around Billy’s shoulders, loving the broadness and weight of the man on top of him. He kissed him softly, bumping his nose against Billy’s and eliciting a groan while Billy tilted his head and deepened the kiss.

“Again,” he begged through the kiss. “I want you again, Daddy.”