#i present to you: my last brain cells

[cursedcola]

Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul (Here) | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: Putting all my brain rot from my notes into something cohesive. Contrary to my love for ripping your hearts out, I've come with some fluff this time around. BTW you may or may not already do things mentioned - I write my works with a specific Yuu in mind for each character so this is based on them. Just a reminder.

Habits you steal:

Plan-Books (Inherited) : Riddle habitually carries a planner with all his tasks. A physical one, not an app in his cell phone like most students choose. You find it easier to manage and swap to paper-and-pen alternatives at his recommendation.

Tidiness (Inherited): Riddle is a nit-pickier when it comes to physical presentation. His habits of pressing his uniform, laying his clothes out every night, and dressing conservatively rub off. He has a point - ironed trousers do make a difference. Every morning he will redo your uniform tie. It's never knotted to his 'standard', and is his preferred excuse to greet you before class.

"Now, isn't that better? Surely you are more comfortable in ironed linens than those rags you'd been wearing as pajamas. You seriously found them lying in Ramshackle? Were you not given an allowance to buy basic needs? Ridiculous! The Headmaster's irresponsibility holds no bounds!" <- Utterly appalled that you've been sleeping in century-old robes. He supplies you with seven sets of pajamas, a spare uniform, and an iron + board for Ramshackle. All after reaming the Headmaster for neglect in the last dorm-head meeting - either Crowley coughed up the marks or Riddle will supply from his own bank. Seven have mercy if he chooses to become a lawyer instead of a doctor.

No Heels (Developed): Riddle has a height complex. He won't make a show of it, but you wearing heels does emasculate him. Especially if you're already taller naturally. For his sake, you choose to slay your outfits in flats.

"Are those new loafers? Oh - no, they're lovely. The embroidery is exquisite and I can see why Pomefiore's Housewarden models for their brand. I merely thought you preferred the heeled saddle-shoes we saw during the past weekend trip. I must have been mistaken. Never mind me. You look wonderful."

Playing Brain Teasers (Inherited): Riddle has this thing with memory - you don't know if he's really into preventing old-age Alzheimer's or what. He carries a book of teaser games like Sudoku, etc. for when he has downtime and you eventually get into them too.

"Oh! My Rose, would you care to join me for lunch? Trey's siblings recently mailed in a large collection of cross-words. You'll find they are both educational and entertaining - hm? I do not seem the 'type' for word-games? I assure you, even I can relax on occasion. There is no need to look so surprised." <- Riddle's been making a grand effort to do things he enjoys and become more personable. Trey's siblings did not send the collection. Riddle went into town and picked it out on his own. He also found a book on organizing excursions since he's big on quality time. He is dead-set on not being a neglectful or 'boring' partner.

Swear Jar (Developed): Tired of Riddle collaring Ace for his vulgar tongue, you suggest a Heartslabyul swear jar. When the jar gets filled, the money can be used to fund things like study materials and renovations for the dorm. Riddle liked this idea, but now implements it on anyone who sets foot in the Heartslabyul. Considering you spend most of your time there, you've had to develop a vast vocabulary beyond swearing. Oh - you also unironically use the word 'fiddlesticks' now.

Habits he steals:

Useless Expenses (Inherited): You are an enabler without a doubt. Riddle has always functioned with the bare bones - with function and efficiency being the number one priority. Ever so slowly - you've spoiled him with aesthetically pleasing stationary. At first all the needless purchases felt redundant - why buy the pillowcases with flowers when plain white is cheaper? You can invest in a higher quality this way. Yet you've ruined him with gifts that he had no choice but to use. Now he needs to buy the pens with little hedgehogs on them because studying doesn't feel the same with a plain ballpoint.

Slang Dictionary (Developed): With each passing day, all the students in Heartslabyul get more creative at bending the rules. That includes you. Riddle takes it upon himself to carry a 'little-black-book' full of all the sang words he is unfamiliar with. He does want to be a bit more 'hip' to understand you more, but at the same time he wants to bust any student being a smart-mouth. It's an ongoing battle *sigh*.

"Apologies, could you repeat that term for me? Surely it must be relevant to my lecture if you and Ace are whispering. 'Let him cook'? Do you think we are in a culinary lecture?! Have you not been listening to - ah. So it's in reference to letting me finish before interrupting...One moment. I need to make a note."

Chewing Gum (Developed): This is an ode to psychology. In short, eating is tied to a person's fight-or-flight. Instincts dictate that our bodies need to be in a calm state to eat comfortably. One day when Riddle was at his wits end, you tossed him a pack of sugarless gum and told him to chew. Disregarding Trey's unholy dental screeching, Riddle develops a gum dependence for when he's stressed out. On the bright side, his jaw has never been so sharp.

“Mimicry? You must be mistaken. Even if my influence has affected their person, surely there are only positive developments” == Riddle denies any changes if confronted. In truth, he’s well aware of how much you’ve helped him grow. It’s the opposite accusation that spikes concern. Riddle does not want others thinking you’re a mini-version of him. Rumors are not kind and neither is his current reputation. Making those amends is his burden to bare. He is flattered to see you paying attention to his mannerisms, and secretly proud that your bond is strong enough to affect the psyche.

Habits you steal:

Whistling (Inherited): Trey whistles while working in the kitchen or doing general chores around the dorm. He's not very loud with it, so not may students are bothered. Since you laze about in his shadow the tunes he goes through do become repetitive. Now you do the same when cleaning up Ramshackle. Grim wants to knock you both out because he can't take it anymore.

"Ah -- How'd you know it was me in here? Just because I bake for the un-birthday parties doesn't mean I live in the kitchen, you know. My whistling? Huh. Never thought that would be my calling card but there are worse things, haha"

Head-Scratching (Inherited): Trey's got a habit of scratching the back of his head when he's uncomfortable or nervous. That, or rubbing at the nape of his neck while adverting eye contact. You start doing this too whenever you're being scolded or put in a tough situation.

Dental Hygiene (Inherited): By far the most obvious shared trait. Trey enforces his dental habits onto everyone- you are no exception. You now own four different kinds of floss, two toothbrushes (one being electric), and have a strict hygiene routine. Your pearly whites have never been so clean. Eventually you become somewhat of a secondary enforcer, policing anyone who sleeps over your dorm to take care of themselves before bed. All of Heartslabyul learns that there is no going back when you scold Riddle for not brushing after his teatime tart, and live to tell the tale.

"Hey - uh, weird question? Were you handing out floss to the Spelldrive Team yesterday? Seriously? I though Grim was pulling my leg - oh, no! It's not weird at all! Those guys should have a better routine for all the meat they eat when bulking. I'm just shocked you got through to them." <- Very proud. Mildly cocky. He's been itching to get those negligent jocks to floss after their banquets his entire tenure, but steered away from that conflict like the plague. Thank you for making his dreams come true. Now if you could maybe get them to stop picking their gums with toothpicks?

Habits he steals:

Overbuying Food (Developed): Being a baker's son, Trey's good with finances and money. He's also meticulous with the ingredients he purchases for his bakes. You are not. You go to Sam's shop, buy whatever is on sale, and then bring it back home to improvise. This ends poorly more often than not, and behold! Trey has two Ramshackle sluggers snooping around his kitchen for eats. This is unpredictable and therefore he now never knows what amount to buy. You've ruined him.

Phone Calls (Developed): Texting is easier. Especially since phone calls can be a commitment that Trey dislikes being wrapped up in. Whenever Cater's name pops up as the caller, Trey knows he's getting an ear full. The thing is that you never. answer. your. phone. Either the text gets lumped in with the hundreds of missed messages you have, or Grim stole your cell to play mobile games. So Trey gives up and only ever calls. Either Grim will answer or you'll pick up thinking it's the snooze of your alarm.

"Hello? Prefect, where are you? It's me, Trey. Just calling to see if you're still coming to the Un-Birthday party? Riddle's getting a bit nervous since the schedule's set for the next hour. Grim's already here with Ace and Deuce - uh, want Cater to send a double to pick you up? I have a sinking feeling that you're asleep...Call me? Please?" <- He was correct. You called back not a moment after, half-asleep and hauling ass not to be late.

Speaking in Propositions (Inherited): Trey's normally good at keeping neutrality in a conversation, but getting a clear answer out of Yuu you is like solving a rubix cube. Either it's easy and instant, or a long game. Eventually your habit of indecisiveness rubs off on him and he asks questions more than answers them. Evidently this gets his younger classmen to stop asking for favors unless they really need to.

“Aha - really? I didn’t notice at all. Okay. Okay, I picked up on a few hints. What’s so wrong with them taking after me? It’s cute, right?” == Trey is the observant sort that picks up on his influence quickly. Not just anyone carries floss in their pocket at all times - and the looks from his dorm-mates when you offer some up is enough for the realization to click. Trey’s used to playing the respectable sort, and finds it endearing that you’re taking his good notes to heart. In truth, most of Trey’s mimicry is intentional. He’s a flexible guy who doesn’t mind altering his habits to fit your needs. Easier this way, y’know?

Habits you steal:

Speaking in Acronyms(Inherited): Now this is scary. The first time it happened, you had to take a pause and just re-evaluate your entire life. You don't use them nearly as often as Cater does, but somewhere along the line your brain must have rewired to speak in internet lingo. O-M-G you're TOTALLY twinning with him right now, period :)

Nicknames (Inherited): Again, frightening. You once swore against ever calling him Cay-Cay. It isn't very slay-slay. Yet you can only hear him use nicknames for so long until you're unconsciously calling people by them too. Especially since he's always dishing gossip. It starts in your head, which is fine. It's not like they know. Then you call Lilia 'Lils' and that old fart is just grinning behind his sleeve because ohoho~ young love <3

"Did you just- AHA! OMG DO IT AGAIN?! Wait, gotta get my camera out for this - wha? Oh, that's totes not fair! C'mon. Call me Cay-Cay. Just once! I won't even post it to Magicam, please? Lils won't believe me without proof! Pleasssssseeeee - " <- He actually doesn't want you to call him Cay-Cay all the time. Cater likes you using his given name, since it's more personal. Although the way it obviously slipped out on accident is just too cute to ignore.

Reality TV (Inherited): At first you don't like the gossip. It's cheesy, a bit annoying, and the shaky camera-work for nearly every show is headache inducing. Cater likes his dose of drama in his free-time, and Ramshackle has a tv that no one is using. It starts with him watching while you do other things around the dorm. Yet each time you pass the living area, you take longer to leave. Lingering around like one of the ghosts. Then he pulls you in with snacks and starts giving the low-down of what's going on, pulling out a bottle of tangerine shimmer polish to paint your nails. It's just one episode, watch it for him? Please? Oh no. No. No. Suddenly you're invested in who's the baby-daddy of little Ricky and what Chantel is going to do because her sister just lost the house to foreclosure.

"#KingdomOfDeadbeats - am I right? Ugh. I'm so glad we met if that's the dating scene back home...What?! I know it isn't real! Don't be a dummy, I was just joking! Ah! Stop! Don't hit me!" <- Half-hearted jokes about going on one of those talk-shows one day. You're an alien, after all - imagine the juicy drama and views his account would get from doing an interview? It's all jokes though. Cater likes spilling the tea, but hates being it. Don't ever abandon him and go out for milk though, kay? He doesn't want to pay Grim's child support. Otherwise he might have no choice smh

Habits he steals:

Phone/Web Games (Inherited): Cater's phone is mainly full of social media. He's not too into the gaming scene, it's not his peeps y'know? Alas, you download a few dress-up games and one MMO on his phone. First off - props on getting his phone. That's Cay-Cay's lifeline and not just anyone gets to play with it. Pray tell - what is this Wonderstar Planet (props if you know what is being ref.) and how can he become the most influential digital streamer on it? Congrats. He's addicted.

"Who's this Muscle Red and why's he bombing our raid - AH! He just tea-bagged me! So not cool...Prefect? STOP LAUGHING WE HAVE BETS ON THIS MATCH! There goes my collab opportunity, big fail" <- Muscle Red continues to make an appearance. Eventually he becomes Cater's official rival on stream, and Lils is all to invested in the tea cater drops during club meets. Side note. You're the one who gave 'muscle red' Cater's domain code. The lore thickens.

Internet Caution (Developed): This goes without saying, but Cater's well-known in the Magicam scene. He's very forward and knows his way around using charisma. Since you're not in the scene as much, he becomes more cautious of where and when he does streams. The change is so subtle that only the most observant people will pick up on it - but Cay-Cay doesn't want any creepos popping in if y'know what I'm saying. His sisters were the ones to instigate this change.

“Awe~ SRSLY?! That’s fresh news to my ears but good, right? Ne, are there any clips or pics? I need my evidence, y’see. Especially if my cutie is off taking notes from their one and only. C’mon, spill the tea!” == Cheeky Cater is well aware of what’s happening. He’d humor anyone out for some light teasing - after all, he isn’t by your side at all hours. His walls are probably the second most difficult in all of campus to bypass, so he’s both sweetened and nerved to see you picking up on his mannerisms. That’s proof of a strong attachment, after all.

Habits you steal:

Knuckle Cracking (Inherited): Deuce still does this from his biker days. It could be because joint pain from past fights, or possibly air retention in his knuckles from studying. Regardless, Deuce cracks his knuckles at least once every few hours and you began to mimic him. Some people groan at the popping sounds but it really does feel good to release the tension. Let's just hope neither of you dislocate any fingers on accident.

"Stop that! G-geez, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Thought you broke a finger...your hands are stiff? That just means you're studying a lot! I think...uh, let's break? I think there's some leftovers in the kitchen." <- Deuce 100% gets needing to pop those air bubbles. His hands get stiff from studying all the time, but don't crack them too much or you might dislocate something. Side note - he shows you how to wrap your fingers with a soothing salve. He used to do it after fights, but now it's a great help after class.

Double Notes (Developed): Deuce tries. He really does. Yet the lad just isn't great when it comes to book smarts. Seeing that he is dedicated to turning over a new leaf, you make a habit of copying all your notes. He isn't allowed to share them with Ace or Grim - else all bets are off. Sometimes you leave little 'good job' stickers on the last page for him. Is he a toddler? No. Does he peel the stickers off and save them? Totally. He is a good noodle. Suck it Ace.

Sewing (Developed): He breaks things. Most of the time it's an accident. You've learned to carry a mini-sewing kit for all the rips in Deuce's uniform. Same for mini remedies for stains and other problems. It's not like he's trying to get grass stains all over his under-shirt or to split the seam in his gloves (nearly every week). It just happens, and every time he comes to you with a kicked-puppy look with a promise of it being the last time. It is never the last time.

"Uhm...hun'? It happened again. I'm so sorry for bothering you but Housewarden is going to kill me if he sees the tear in my blazer! Can you fix it?! I can't handle another collar with my exam tomorrow! I need to breathe to focus! - really!? I owe you one! Snacks are on me tonight."

Habits he steals:

Bottomless Stomach (Developed): Have leftovers from dinner? Bring them over. He'll get the tubba-ware back in 1-2 days. Coupon for buy-one-get-one at Sam's? He'll take the extra and polish it off in less than a minute. Deuce becomes a human garbage disposal and is taking the unwanted condiments off your sandwich to eat. Just pick them off and leave 'em on the corner of his lunch plate. Even if he dislikes it, he'll down it so you don't have to.

"Mm. Oh, thanks hun' - its that all you're eatin'? You don't like the steam bun? It is a bit dry, but wasting food is disrespectful to the cooks! I'll finish it for you so have my fruit instead. You still need to eat" <- 10/10 very thoughtful and not picky at all. He is grateful to eat your cooking and will gobble up all leftovers at Ramshackle, but doesn't think twice to sharing meals in the cafeteria. He will notice though if you do not eat enough. Restocks the snack cabinet if he sees it's empty. Is touched if you routinely share things you know he enjoys, like saving half your frittata on purpose.

Early Riser (Inherited): See - even if you hate the mornings, there is no choice at Night Raven College. As Ramshackle Prefect you need to be up to take care of business before class. Deuce becomes your personal alarm clock because he wants some time with you before everyone else joins in. Mind you that he lives with three other dudes who threaten to end him every morning because his alarm wakes them up too. Eventually he can wake up without it, but the time leading is unpleasant.

"W-what? Seriously? I've been trying to be more like them! They're a good person and responsible so I've been trying to follow their example. To think we've been doing the same thing this entire time...." == Why would you ever imitate him? He's been trying his damn best to become an honor student worth respecting, and has a long way to go. To think you're comfortable enough with him to mimic his mannerisms? It's a pipe dream, one he doesn't grasp until it's put right in front of his face. You don't let anyone else pick off your plate other than Grim. The next time his clothes tear, he's already handing off his tie before realizing just what's happening. When you wrap his knuckles after a six-hour lock in at the library? He can't help but feel proud at how neat the bandages are. Suddenly the dark memories of hiding bruised knuckles from his mom are pacified with healing balm. Deuce views this development as a gift, and is grateful. Very, very grateful.

Habits you steal:

‘I owe you’ cards (Inherited): Ace's favorite social invention - the 'solid'. Nothing spells new-low like getting your friends to do stuff in exchange for a favor in the future. Most of the time Ace counts on people forgetting he owes them one, but you're not so gullible. The only difference between you both is that while Ace never fulfills his solid, you have a conscience. Give it a few more years. He'll get ya.

"I know this is the third ticket this week but - Oh! C'mon, cut a guy some slack, would you? I'm sorry for bein' late to our date. Yeah, it was shitty. I'm not trying to fight it, aright? I'm here now so let's have some fun and you can chalk three strikes on my tab. I'll even buy ya some candy - Ah! Okay! Two candies but that's where my charity ends!" <- Evidently, the 'I-owe-you' tabs cancel each other out from how often you both call in favors. It's just an excuse to do acts of service or express apologies without being too mushy. Ace is definitely keeping a track record of them though. Expect an ongoing log that dates back to the week you met, when he showed up homeless, collared, and looking to couch surf.

Profanity (Inherited): Ace swears like a sailor. Maybe not so much in his dorm because *cough* he's being policed. He holds no such reservations when you're both alone at Ramshackle. Unfortunately his potty mouth has a mind of it's own - it taints you, and you are a sham of a prefect. Ace earned a week-long collar for teaching you some Twisted-Wonderland exclusive curses. Riddle is not pleased.

Leaving the Windows Unlocked (Developed): There are only so many times he can sneak in through your window before the adrenaline-induced charm wears off. You have class in the morning, and can't be bothered to deal with him on nights he can't pass out in his dorm. Thank seven you have all of Ramshackle to yourself - because Heartslabyul sounds like a nightmare with the roommate situation. You can't leave the front door open for obvious reasons, but most nights the guest-bedroom window will be left slightly ajar in case he needs a place to crash.

"Pssst! Oi! Prefect! ...ugh, Grim! Wake them up, man! The latch is stuck. Don't go back to bed you furball! HEY! IT'S FREAKIN COLD OUT HERE SO LET ME IN ALREADY" <- Please let him in. If Ace has to spend one more night in that stinky dorm with three dudes, he'll string one of their dirty gym socks over your bed. No mercy.

Sleeping with Earplugs (Developed): Bitch Ace snores.

Habits he steals:

Notes Memo (Developed): Ace is bad with remembering things. Anniversaries? Dates? Allergies? He admits to not putting in a great amount of effort, but you can't say he doesn't try at all. He has a notes block on his phone dedicated to things like your go-to takeout orders and preferences. He even has a few alarms set days before any important events because even if you say no-gifts or plans...yeah, he's not that stupid.

Excessive Yawning (Inherited): You're always tired - it wasn't Ace's problem before but now he does feel a bit guilty. Dragging you into his messes felt different when you were just the prefect, y'know? Regardless, it's human instinct to mimic each other's demeanor so he'll openly yawn all the time - normally in succession of you.

"Hey...you're dozing off again. Am I seriously that boring to hang around? - Nah. Just messin' with you. I'd suggest taking a nap during next period but I doubt a goody-goody like you is gonna take that advice. Let's just ditch juice at lunch and go back to the dorm. Don't get mad if I forget to wake you up though"

Medications (Developed): Ace is the last person to become a human apothecary, but he's always got a pack of pain-reliever meds in his pocket with a few bandages, etc. He also attached one of those tiny capsule bottles to his keyring with some stomach meds inside. You took a spill running laps? Dang man. That sucks. Here's a band-aid for your knee. Curse you for making him the slightly-more responsible one.

"Eh..what, like it's a shock? You saying I'm a bad influence? Cause yeah, that checks. Nothin' I can do if they want to take a card outta my deck though," == Ace is entirely neutral on the topic. He is definitely smug that you're coming over to the dark side, but he doesn't need anyone to point it out. He was your first after all. Maybe the start could have been a bit better - but hey, you came around. It's not like he's hurting anyone by helping build your backbone. Although Ace will instantly deny going soft for you in any way, shape, or form.

[changisworld]

“Why do you make me feel like this, pretty?”

fuckboy!hyunjin x reader

Word count; 5,902

Summary: After hyunjin took your virginity, you grew attached despite trying your hardest not to. You find out he hooked up with someone the day after it happened which broke your heart, making you cry.. but of course, hyunjin caught you crying. He didn’t really know what he felt, it being new to him, as he tries to refuse the silly ideas popping into his brain, he can’t ignore how much you being upset is making his heart.. hurt?? Surely he doesn’t like you too..?

18+ ONLY, MDNI, SMUT UNDER THE CUT.

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

main masterlist here

part 3 here

**This can be read on its own despite it probably being confusing but i highly recommend reading part 1!**

SMUT WARNINGS: spit/drool, PIV, needy reader, pet names, shyish reader, rimming( f rec), oral ( f rec), fingering (f rec), finger sucking, unprotected sex, jealous jinnie, edging???,pull out method, literally 1 spank, slight dacryphilia, jealous jinnie, soft jinnie, kind jinnie, hyunjins a tease obvs, slight aftercare, wayyy fluffier ending than last time you're welcome!!

You & Hyunjin walk off campus, you still hiding your face from him, embarrassed at the tears now staining your cheeks, your face tinged red, you also don't fail to miss the looks you & Hyunjin are receiving from other students walking past the both of you, his arm still around you & you can't help but feel judged, so you push his arm off.

"Forget the cafe, I'm just gonna go home, I feel.. sick. I'll see you later Hyunjin." you murmur, still not looking at him in the eye.

"Y/n stop being weird, just cmon. I promise to cheer you up." He replies back, reaching out to cup your cheek but you move your head before murmuring a quick 'bye' before walking away from him hastily, leaving him standing there, confused & a bit annoyed.

He watches as you turn the corner & he huffs before kicking a stone nearby. 'Why do I care she's actually upset? 'What did I do wrong?' 'I hope she's okay' & 'Shit how can I apologise' are all thoughts that race through his head, no matter how much he tries to shake it all off, he genuinely feels guilty. But why? He never feels sorry for the girls he fucks n chucks, so what makes it different? He barely even knows you? He only spoke to you for a week which is barely anything. He sighs before pulling out his phone & going onto his contacts, about to call Joy, another one of his side things, before deciding against it, instead calling his friend Jisung& asking to meet him.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･:༅｡.｡༅:ﾟ::✼✿　　✿✼:ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

Twenty minutes later Jisung meets him at the local dog walking park & they end up sitting on a bench, talking about random stuff before the topic of you comes up, but not because of Hyunjin.

“You’re lucky you got to partner up with y/n for that assignment, I got put with Changbin so obviously i fucking failed, tryna do that presentation on the spot was absolute torture, you still talk to her? she seems quiet as hell.” Han sighs, sipping his bubble tea through his straw & Hyunjin laughs.

“Ay! I actually helped her so shut up, just because you both have no more than eight brain cells, i’m just proof there is such a thing as looks & beauty. Nah, we haven’t really spoken since, just been busy i suppose & what the hell am i meant to say to her?” Hyunjin replies, a quick chuckle leaving his lips.

“What do you mean you’re proof that looks n beauty exist, y/n basically invented it you idiot. Wha'cha mean what are you meant to say to her? Did you fuck her too or something?" Han questions, leaning forward.

Hyunjin just kisses his teeth before nodding & Han just raises his eyebrows. "fuck, I didn't think someone like y/n would get around that way. Can you do me a favour n start speaking to her again n put in a good word about me I wanna approach her but she feels intimidating, you get me?" Once Hyunjin hears these words, a bad & gross feeling bubbles up in his stomach.. is what he feeling... jealousy?

"Uhh.. you're really not her type, she's not up for dating, she told me. Go try your luck with someone else." Hyunjin says in a bitter tone, not looking at the man in front of him & Han scoffs.

"You chat shit Hyunjin, stop gatekeeping! I'll just use my charms & trust me, we'll be fucking a week later n dating two weeks later." Jisung jokes, patting Hyunjins leg but he pushes it off.

"You're ridiculous Jisung, she won't want what's between your legs." Hyunjin spits out before standing up off the bench, stretching out & sighing. "I have things to do, you can keep day dreaming, I'll see you later. choke on your boba." Hyunjin jokes with Han & he spits out a bubble as a response before he walks away, leaving Han on the bench.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･:༅｡.｡༅:ﾟ::✼✿　　✿✼:ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

He walks through the rest of the park, thinking about Hans words & he can't get over it. 'Why am I so jealous?' 'Who does he honestly think he is talking about y/n like that?' 'They wouldn't even look good together.' are things that keep racing through his head & he is getting more pissed off as the seconds go by.

He gets out of the park & he keeps walking on the pavement, not having an actual destination in mind.. until he seen you walking out of a random convenience store across the street & a lightbulb lights up behind his brown eyes.

He picks up the pace of his walk as he follows just far enough behind you on the other side of the road until you reach your apartment complex before entering & he can't help but feel like an absolute creep, but that doesn't stop him. He screenshots his location on find my Iphone, just so he won't forget where to go later on as he walks back the way he came, heading to the main line of shops near the campus.

He strolls around for around twenty minutes, looking at random little trinkets, bookmarks with the college logo on it, which he cringes at due to the look of it, before he keeps walking until he reaches a little florist shop.

He enters it, aimlessly walking around, fingertips grazing over a few roses & tulips, admiring the pretty colours as he sets his eyes on a bouquet of lillies. He picks it up, giving himself a better look at it before deciding he is happy with it, heading to the counter.

He places them down, not paying attention to the cashier as he looks at the little vases beside the register.

"Can I get this pink vase to- ohh, I didn't know you worked here Jennie, hiya." he says, surprised. "Sure. You know, Lisa doesn't like lillies, I suggest you get her daffodils, her favourite colour being yellow n all." she responds, smiling up at him. "Ah, they.. they're not for Lisa so I'll pass. Can you fill up the vase with a bit of water too? I think that's what you're supposed to do, right?" he says quickly, hand coming up to the back of his neck, the awkwardness filling the small space.

"mhmm. £29.11 is the total." She says in a cold voice, taking the tag off the vase as she turns around to the small sink, filling up the vase 1/3 of the way. She dumps the bouquet in the vase with no care at all before pushing it towards him, giving him the card machine. He pays, a strained, awkward smile on his face before saying thank you & leaving.

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After buying you a box of chocolates & a Vanilla bean smelling candle & following the path you walked on earlier, he ends up back outside your apartment complex.

He sits on the front steps, waiting for someone to leave the building so he can catch the door & once he is inside, he begins knocking on every door, talking to each person who answers in a quiet voice, Ignoring the confused looks of other students who recognise him who are all definitely wondering why he is knocking doors looking for you, making sure you wouldn't hear him & then refuse to open the door.

He reaches the fourth floor, mouth slightly dry from all the talking he has had to do & he is beginning to doubt his memory. He knocks on the third door & takes a step back, waiting for an answer as he hears footsteps & he can't help the smile that spreads across his face as you are the one who open the door.

"Surprise, & I'm not just talking about my pretty face. Can I come in?" he chirps as he raises his arms, making sure you see what he has brought despite it being almost all you can see, not missing the chance to give you an up & down look, you wearing black tight shorts & an oversized off the shoulder graphic shirt.

"Hyunjin, I told you I was sick.. How the hell do you know where I live?" you question, honestly just confused. "Does that matter? I asked a question, Don't leave me standing here I went to like twenty doors to find you!" he pouts. You roll your eyes & begin to shut the door but Hyunjin stops it with his foot.

"Okay okay okay! I followed you, but not in a creepy way I swear! I just wanted to.. apologise? But I knew you would ghost me If I text you." he says in a sulky voice. You groan before opening the door back open, his pretty face poking through the gap. "You are a creep, you know that? Why you apologising?" you question him, crossing your arms, not amused but slightly flattered despite not showing it.

"I'm not going to broadcast my deep, heart warming words in the corridor for everyone to hear, just let me inside, pleaseee." he pouts again & you just sigh before moving out of the way so he can enter, taking his shoes off as soon as they touch your laminate flooring.

You walk into your connected living room & kitchen before sitting on your corner kitchen counter, your legs swinging off it as Hyunjin follows behind you, looking around at the cute random decorations hung up on your walls & on the mantle pieces.

He places the flowers on your coffee table before walking back into your small kitchen & leaning on the opposite counter top, still holding the chocolates & candle.

"Okay, Can I give you my apology now? I rehearsed this to make sure I get everything right." He tries to joke but you just look at him with a blank expression before nodding, encouraging him to continue. "Okay, I didn't realise how much I've upset you & I'm sorry for not trying to check up on you sooner & stopped speaking to you. I partially didn't even mean to ghost you but I also genuinely thought you wouldn't speak to me anymore since you're always so concentrated on lessons & studying, I thought you would have thought I was getting in your way. I'm also sorry for fucking with that girl & you overheard it, if I'm genuinely being honest, I did it to try wipe my mind of you. I know what we did is a huge thing & it was wrong of me to have acted the way I did, if i'm being honest, this was the first time I did what we did so I just didn't really know how to act, but I'm genuinely sorry y/n. Chocolates?"

He blurts out, not taking his eyes off you as he feels his cheeks go hot, the nerves & also the way you're looking at him making him flustered. You both sit in silence for a minute, him waiting for a response & you thinking of a response.

"Gimme the box & light the candle for me, second drawer to your right n you will find a lighter. If you felt like this all week, You've still had seven days to come n tell me this but instead you've let me feel like shit for a week, this was the exact reason I was unsure to do it with you Hyunjin, in fear something like this would have happened & instead of just growing a pair & talking to me, you fuck someone else to just try forget?" You reply, your voice getting a bit shaky without meaning it, the feelings of it all hitting you again.

Hyunjin listens as he digs into his pocket & pulling out his own lighter & lighting it before putting it on the counter & he walks the few steps over to you, handing you the chocolate before standing right in front of you, leaning his hands on the counter on the outside of your legs, caging you in.

"Please y/n, don't think like that. I know I should have swallowed my pride n apologised earlier, I was just trying to convince myself I didn't give a fuck but I do, hence why I'm here. I honestly think you used those crystals & manifested this or something." he mumbles the last part, looking away from you, his ears going red after hearing his words out loud & your legs stop swinging as you pause at his words.

"What do you mean you actually give a fuck? What are you trying to say." you reply back, resisting the urge to reach out & stroke his hair. Hyunjin sighs & shakes his head. "Don't make me spit it out y/n, It's just gonna sound like a lie to you." You get an anxious feeling in your belly before taking his chin & guiding him to look back up at you. "Hyunjin, just say it, it's only me here anyway. Just say what you gotta say." you respond in a quiet but firm voice, honestly scared.

He doesn't have much option but to look at you as he lets himself melt into your hand lightly before taking a deep breath. "I.. care about you? I don't know, it feels weird but like... I genuinely felt like shit after how I treated you n i've tried to bury it but it just won't leave, I don't really know what it is about you n honestly it scares me." he says in a quiet, quick tone & your jaw drops.

You just freeze as you both just look at each other in complete silence not including the quiet crackling of the candle & your living room clock ticking. Hyunjin can't bare the awkwardness anymore as he gets shy for the first time in years, moving his arms to stand completely upright but you pull him in by the shirt to hug him, tears threatening to leave your eyes as his arms wrap around you in return.

"This better not be some sort of sick joke Hyunjin or i swear I'll kill you, you're gonna boost my ego to a fraction of what yours is." you half laugh as he nuzzles his face into your neck, inhaling your sweet smell. "It's not, dead serious. You're just different n I don't know how to feel about it, stop casting spells to make me attached to you. I've been itching to ask to see you all week, I wish I wasn't being so stubborn." he muffles into your neck, moving his head side to side slightly, his nose tickling your neck, making you lean more into him, chuckling at his stupid joke.

"Stop with the silly magic jokes, you're ridiculous. I want to say you're not forgiven since you need to prove to me you're not talking out your ass but I do accept your indeed heart warming apology & I appreciate it just more than the flowers n chocolate." you say in a soft voice & you feel Hyunjin smile against your neck before he moves & kisses the tip of your nose, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"That's what I wanted to hear, I wouldn't be able to handle it if you had told me to fuck off, my first ever rejection coming from the first person I've ever bought a present for that isn't my mom." You chuckle at this before hopping off the counter, grabbing the box of chocolates that were staring at you.

"Rejection? You tryna say you like meee?" you tease, taking his hands before swaying them back & forth & he rolls his eyes, chuckling. "Was it not kinda obvious? I wanted to say it without directly saying it in case I embarrassed myself but... yeahhh I have a tiny crush, I think you made us soul tied or something." you just 'tut' at his remark but your face goes bright red at his confession, cheeks hurting from how much you're smiling.

"I'm touched. Got thee famous playboy hwang Hyunjin to like like me, not sure if it's a surprise but I like you too." You kiss his cheek before leading him to the couch as you sit on it, him flopping next to you. "Enough of the soppy talk for now or I'll get embarrassed, you can choose a movie while I get us a blanket." He just nods & you hand him the box of chocolates & he begins opening them as you scurry to your room to get your favourite fluffy blankets.

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You both end up watching a recommended Netflix romcom suggestion, both of you devouring your chocolates but you pay no mind to it.

Some point throughout, your legs end up swung over his as your head lays against his shoulder, him stroking your hair with one hand as the other hand caresses your thigh.

Every few minutes or so, you focus less on the movie & more on his touch as his hand slowly rises up your leg, then your thigh & his hand is now grazing against your inner thigh over your tight shorts, giving you goosebumps, which he doesn't miss.

This continues up until Hyunjin repositions himself, pushing your legs off him so he can lay down over your thighs, his view now sideways of the TV, not that he cares, not paying the slightest bit of attention anyway as you momentarily tense up beneath him.

You continue stroking his hair, sometimes digging your fingers into his scalp a bit to scratch it, making him let out a satisfied hum. You can't help but keep looking down at the beautiful man laying on you & you can't help but smile to yourself.

As if he can feel your eyes burning into his skull, he moves the blanket down your legs enough to expose your legs enough for him to begin planting little pecks on them, slightly tickilish but you don't miss the wetness now pooling under your shorts. "Stop teasing Hyune." you speak up, your voice quiet & he just chuckles.

"If you don't want me to tease, I won't complain if you lay back." he replies, not bothering to look up at you as his hand reaches to squeeze your thigh softly as he keeps giving your legs kisses, suckling at them slightly,

You think about what he says & you would be stupid to deny the chance, your pussy clenching around nothing. You lightly push his head up off you & he takes the hint, moving & you push the side of his arm, towards the edge of the couch & he looks at you slightly confused but does what he thinks you're hinting at, getting onto the floor right in front of you, looking up at you with his pretty eyes.

You give him a shy smile before you take it upon yourself to wriggle your shorts & underwear off, leaving your bottom half completely nude, biting your lip in anticipation.

"You really got this desperate since last time I saw you?" he teases & you put your hand in front of your cunt, covering it with how shy you've just started feeling but he is quick to pull it back off, looking at the small shimmer on your middle finger before licking it off in one go.

"Don't be shy, gorgeous. I've been just as desperate if not more, can I get a taste?" he says in a sweet voice, not looking away from you, stars in his eyes. "Please.. If you want to." you respond, hiding your face in your hands but he reaches up & swats your hands away yet again as his other hand begins to slowly drag through your folds, making your hips buck.

"Stop hiding, where's your confidence gone hmm? Do I make you that nervous? trust me, there's nothing I want more." he leans in & kisses right next to your lip before smirking at you & sinking back down onto the floor, blowing cold air onto your now soaking cunt, making your legs tense up & he tongues his cheek as he watches your face twitch.

He spreads your folds open, getting a better view of your hole, clenching around nothing before he licks a long, slow strip from your hole to the top of your clit, letting out a low groan in the process. "Taste better than anything y/n, I fucking swear." he says as he looks up at you for a split second. "eyes on me, if you look away I'll stop." he voices before digging in.

You do as he says & make eye contact with him as his mouth latches onto your cunt as he begins letting spit roll off his tongue, mixing with your juices just before slurping it back up, not afraid to make as much noise as the mixes of juices allow.

You weave your hand in his hair & play with his hair & scratch his scalp for him as he suctions his tongue onto your swollen button, both of you groaning at the same time.

"Hyune, so good" you whimper out, your breath shaky as your eyes struggle to stay open & you feel Hyunjin smile against you. He brings his fingers up to your clit before rubbing it in a steady rhythm as he lets go of before his tongue find its way into your opening before beginning to tongue fuck you & you throw your head back, your moans now louder than the TV still playing behind the both of you, your legs now closing around his head, not that he pays attention to that anyway, if anything he is enjoying it.

You begin to clench around his tongue which he remembers is your tell tail sign you're about to orgasm, your moans getting higher pitched & your grip on his hair getting tighter & he chooses to worm his tongue out of your hole before pinching your clit between his two fingers & dropping a glob of spit to it before giving it one more lick, smirking.

"I wanna try something I think you might like, turn over so you're facing your back to me, hunny." You huff at the beginning of a future orgasm beginning to appear suddenly bubbling away but you do as he says, slightly confused.

You get up on your knees & rest your elbows on the back of the couch, you now looking at the wall behind you. "Why am I fac-" you're cut off as Hyunjin spreads your cheeks & begins fondling them as he begins suckling on your pussy from behind, letting out a satisfied hum behind you as you begin kneading the couch until your fingers begin to ache, biting your lip to try hold back moans.

"G-gonna cum Hyunjin, keep g-going." you whimper, pushing yourself into his face, seeking even more from him if it's even possible & he gives you a quick slap on your ass as he removes himself from your cunt again, much to his own displeasure.

"Don't bite your lip y/nnie, I wanna hear you fully, Mkay?" he speaks from behind you as you yelp at the impact & he hums as he keeps kneading your ass, giving it a few kisses. "Your ass is to die for, you know that? Gonna taste it." Before you can even process what he says, your mind too full of lust to understand, he is letting a glob of spit fall past his lips & it landing right on your tightest hole.

You try jerk your hips away from him but he is quicker & pulls you back to him, keeping a tighter grip on your ass, keeping it spread as his tongue begins to graze over your pretty pucker, his eyes scrunching together as he smiles against you, tongue now drawing patterns on it as he lets go of one of your ass cheeks, going down to your leaking cunt again before entering two fingers, instantly finding the same G-spot that made you orgasm only a week or so ago.

Your hips buck at the new sensation & you let out a long mewl, letting your face fall onto the back of the couch as your knuckles turn white from how hard you're clenching on it.

Your pretty hole is clenching & pulsating on his tongue as he lets out a deep growl at your taste, so different compared to your cunt but still enjoyable, you're moans getting to an even higher pitch as his tongue enter inside you, swirling around as much as the tight ring will allow.

"Hyun- please l-let me cum, s-so- fuck!" you basically scream out, not even being able to find the strength to lift your head up to look at the man behind you as your pussy & ass clench around his fingers & tongue but right before you cum, Hyunjin pulls completely away, again & your legs shake from the painful pleasure of yet another stolen orgasm.

Hyunjin leans over so his clothed chest is touching your back & he tilts your head so he can see your pretty face & he sees your now tear soaked cheeks & your pretty, glossy eyes.

"Awww, pretty girl couldn't contain their tears, could you? I promise you can cum now, I don't have a condom on me though beautiful so do you just want my fingers hmm? or my tongue?" he questions as he strokes your now damp hair out of your face, pouting at you.

"J-just fuck me Hyune, j-just pull out." you whiimper back to him, your breath so unstable it's difficult to even push the words out. Hyunjin opens his mouth to re ask you, just to make sure he is hearing things right but you wiggle your naked ass against him & he bucks his hips before just nodding before kissing your shoulder & then shimmying his pants & underwear down, freeing his pretty cock.

He spits onto his cock, pumping it into his hand a few times, letting out a hushed groan before he aligns his tip with your pussy, rubbing himself against it a few times to coat his tip in your juices before prodding his tip against your hole, before pushing just the tip inside.

"I'm still gonna be gentle, it's only your second time, tell me if this position is uncomfortable." he speaks behind you & as you mumble out an 'okay' while your face now being mushed against the cushion again, he pushes his hips forward very slowly until he buries himself to the hilt, you both letting out a moan in unison.

He stills inside you, trying to not cum instantly from how hot your walls feel without the restriction of the condom he wore last time, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he waits for your signal to continue.

Your breath staggers as he pushes forward, the stretch being a bit painful but no way near as painful as last time & after a minute or so, you push yourself on his cock experimentally, making you both hiss.

"You- please move, mak-make me cum Hyune, p-please." you elongate the last word, turning your head to the side so he can actually hear you. He takes a deep breath & pulls out half way before pushing back in, the both of you letting out a whine as his balls slap against your clit, making it even more intense for you.

Hyunjin sets a steady rhythm, lightly using the tips of his finger nails to add sensation to your back, tickling it but also feeling nice as you know it will leave those pretty little red marks later on. Both of your moans & whines fill the small apartment, not even thinking about how your neighbours can one hundred percent hear you.

"Y/n yo-you're too tight, s-so warm." he breathes out, lifting his leg & standing it on the couch for a better angle as he keeps rutting into you, leaning over your back again to kiss your cheek, your moans going straight into his ears.

"To- so big hy-hyune, pleas-e lemme c-cum." you whimper, your eyes scrunching closed, the ends of Hyunjins hair tickling your face as he begins to nibble on your earlobe, your cunt clenching impossibly tight around his cock, almost suffocating it.

"c-cum with me baby, h-hold on for me." he groan back as he tilts his neck into an uncomfortable position just so he can kiss your lips. His tongue instantly enters your mouth & you suckle on it, tasting the remaining taste of your juices from what he hasn't already repeatedly swallowed, making you moan in content.

Hyunjin speeds up his pace slightly & your G-spot loves this, making your legs almost give out on the spot as your brain turns into mush. "I-in my s-stomach Hyun-deep." you babble out against his lips, barely even knowing your own name at this point.

As Hyunjin stands back upright after giving your shoulder a few pecks, his phone begins to ring. Your eyes spot his phone on the other end of the couch, where he was sitting earlier but he reaches over & declines it before shutting his phone completely off, throwing it to the side, his pace not slowing once.

You don't bother questioning it, instead focusing on the noises of your slick & his balls connecting together mixed with the sweat of the both of you, sloppy clapping noises of your skin connecting filling the room, your legs begin to give out as Hyunjin worms his fingers down to your clit yet again before rubbing it frantically.

"In your s-stomach hmm? You can cum for me angel, n-not gonna last, too w-wet n tight." he squabbles, breathing frantically & this i all you need to hear as your entire body tenses up as finally, your orgasm hits you like a brick wall & you let out a squeal & Hyunjin has to grip onto your hips as his life depend on it in order for you to not flop & slip off the couch.

Your noises & the way your pussy flutters around him is just too much for him to handle & as much as he doesn't want to, he pulls himself out of your wet, hot walls as his cum spurts down your ass & back, throwing his head back as his cock quite literally pulsates as his balls empty, a high pitched whimper leaving his lips, breathing staggered.

He comes back to his body quicker than you do & he helps reposition you so you're fully laying on the couch, trying to make sure his cum doesn't get onto any other surface.

He grabs his underwear & wipes the cum off your back in a comfortable silence, slightly twitching as he wipes it off. He leans over your back again before kissing your earlobe. "Did so well, so proud of you, still so pretty for me despite being sticky with sweat." you both weakly laugh as you turn onto your back before using the ounce of strength you have left to pull on his wrist.

"cuddle." is all you say as you pull on him until he lays on top of you, half his weight dangling off the arm of the couch as he lays his head on your chest, listening to your still racing heartbeat & he can't help but feel secure.

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You both sit like this for a while, talking to one another about what you both spoke about in a bit more detail & also just talk to each other about things you don't know about one another, things like family pets, favourite colours, favourite brands etc.

Hyunjin ends up powering his phone back on & you are both just scrolling through his for you page, when you remember his phone ringing. "Quick question hyune, who was it that called you? If it was important you coulda stopped to answer." you ask him, not lifting your eyes from the video playing on his phone screen, not really thinking too much of it.

"Don't stress it, it was just someone I'm not gonna be speaking to anymore." he replies in s tired voice, still scrolling. His reply slightly confusing you. "Who? I don't mean to be nosey or anything but now i'm curious." you respond back, your fingers in his hair now pausing.

Without saying anything, he switches apps, onto his call log & it's Lisas name at the top.. nineteen missed calls. He just sighs as he presses on the 'more' option before deleting her number & deleting the Imessage conversation without even bothering to read her spam of texts, yelling, crying & cussing him out before switching apps back onto tiktok without saying a word & you just blush, your hands cupping his cheeks from above, your thumbs just below his eyes.

"You're cute." you say as you squeeze them playfully & he just 'tut's but still, he melts himself into your touch.

I'm not completely sure if I want to leave this story as a two parter orrrrrr do a third n final part but to everyone wanting a happier ending here you all are!

Tags: @troublemaker02 @ismokeeweed @lmhcats @isagerada @tsunderelino

[sugurugetoshairbrush]

tl;dr hotboxing the v with stoner!suguru getou [prev] [nxt]

“You gotta stop fidgeting on my lap, you’re gonna make me lose.”

“I’m bored,” you whine.

Nestled snugly in Suguru’s lap, you cling to him like a koala, face buried in his neck. The rich, earthy scent of his cologne—sandalwood, your favorite—does little to distract from the fact that you’re getting zero attention.

You know who is? Gojo (derogatory).

After a long day at work, the thought of unwinding with Suguru was the only thing that kept you pushing through your exhausting shift. Now, thanks to the spare key Suguru gave you, showing up unannounced had become routine. You’d imagined finding him napping or lounging so you could snuggle, but instead, you were greeted by the thunderous sounds of Suguru and Gojo yelling over a video game.

Ever sweet, Suguru greeted you with a warm smile—but not an ounce of eye contact as he hunched over, aggressively mashing buttons. He’d invited you to sit on his lap, promising it was “one last round.”

That was four rounds ago.

At this point, you’ve resigned yourself to either falling asleep to the rhythmic sounds of button-mashing or waiting for Gojo to rage-quit. But a surprising third option presents itself in the form of Suguru’s phone ringing.

Suguru nudges you with his controller. “Mind answering that for me? It’s in my right pocket.”

Rolling your eyes, you reach into his pocket, fishing out the phone. The caller ID reads: 

Toji (Neighbor/Nuisance)

Suguru groans. “Ugh, who knows what crazy-ass shit Toji’s about to unload now.”

Eager for a change in pace, you accept the call and press the phone to Suguru’s ear. “Here, Sugu. I’ll hold it for you.”

Toji’s boisterous voice is loud enough to catch snippets like “no kid tonight,” “get wild,” “casino,” and “can’t say no.” Suguru exchanges a few exasperated grunts before sighing in defeat. “Okay, okay. Meet you down there in 30.”

Suguru signals for you to end the call, groaning as he explains, “So… here’s the deal. Toji’s kid is with his mom, and he just scored ten grand off some hustle. Now he wants to hit the casino. And since Gojo dumped his drug-dog onto him, we kinda owe him.” He grimaces. “We can’t exactly say no.”

Gojo clutches his chest dramatically. “Why does everything I do come back to bite me in the ass?! I need my chakras aligned.”

“You need your brain cells aligned,” you retort. “Let’s just get ready for whatever nonsense Toji has cooked up.”

You twist around, reaching for the zip on the table to “prepare” yourself for Toji’s rough personality. Just as your fingers brush the bag, Suguru puts his controller down, catching your arm in a smooth, practiced motion.

“Nah, we’re good,” he says, his voice calm but with a hint of amusement. “Toji’s gonna smoke us out. Said we could hotbox his car.”

Gojo pauses mid-stretch, eyebrows shooting up as he grabs his navy half-zip from the back of the couch. Tugging it on over his shirt, he lets out a dramatic scoff. His bright blue eyes are wide with disbelief.

“The Honda?!” he exclaims. “Only bad things happen in that Honda.”

You shrug, unfazed. “Tough shit, Mister ‘I Make Impulse Purchases When High,’ Satoru.”

He narrows his eyes at you, dramatically clasping his hands together as if summoning divine wisdom. “Chakra. Alignment,” he intones, deadpan, before zipping up his jacket with a flourish.

Thirty minutes later, you’re stepping out of Suguru’s apartment building to find Toji leaning against his black Honda Accord. He’s decked out in Amiri jeans and a smug grin, fanning a stack of cash.

Toji’s eyes flick to you, shamelessly sizing you up. “Didn’t know you were bringing your little friend along. Not that I’m complaining.”

Suguru steps in front of you, voice low and sharp. “Eyes up here, Toji. She’s not interested.”

Gojo saunters past them, LV messenger bag swinging as he slides into the passenger seat. “Like that’s gonna stop him. He's a menace to society,” he mutters.

Inside the Honda, the smell is… questionable. The seats bear faint stains, and there’s a musky undertone, despite Toji’s claim he “Febreezed it earlier.” Suguru rolls down his window before Toji even starts the car.

“Better enjoy that fresh air,” Toji warns with a grin. “Once we hotbox, no weaklings breaking the seal.”

Gojo scoffs, pulling down the visor to adjust his hair. “How’s Gojo Junior, by the way? You find him a loving home yet?”

“Funny you ask,” Toji smirks. “Sold him to a buddy who coordinates underground dog fights. You can catch him in the doggy ring on Tuesday.”

The car goes silent. Your jaw drops as Suguru sputters. Gojo’s tinted Ray-Bans slip down his nose, his face frozen in horror.

“WHAT?!” you and Suguru exclaim in unison.

“Relax,” Toji chuckles, taking a sharp turn that throws you into Suguru’s side. Suguru steadies you with an arm around your shoulders, fingers brushing your neck. You shudder instinctively, shaking your head as Toji continues. “You said you needed it gone. I did that, didn't I?”

You interrupt, “Let’s circle back to what the fuck that was later. Right now, I need to know where you copped the weed, Toji. Getting laced isn’t exactly on my bingo card.”

Toji chuckles darkly. “Don’t worry that pretty little head,” he says, reaching into the center console with his free hand. He retrieves a blue mylar bag and dangles it between two fingers. “Picked up some gas from the dispensary.”

The car swerves slightly, and Gojo snatches the bag out of Toji’s hand.

“Toji, dear God, focus on the road! I can get you whatever you need!”

Toji smirks, undeterred. “Ah, you don’t worry that pretty little head either,” he teases.

Gojo fake-gags, clutching his throat and miming an exaggerated retch before snatching up the bag.

“Oh shit!” he exclaims, holding it up triumphantly for you and Suguru to see, his bright blue eyes gleaming with playful mischief. “This strain? Mine.” He taps at the fine print on the back of the bag, where, sure enough, his name is inscribed as cannabis breeder.

Grinning like a kid showing off a gold star, Gojo shoves the bag back in Toji’s face. “Cultivated by yours truly.”

Toji playfully jerks the wheel, making Gojo lurch back into his seat, wheezing.

Despite the casino being thirty minutes away, it feels like you get there in ten, bumping into Suguru’s side more times than you can count as the car winds through the streets.

Toji parallel parks right in front of the strip, snugging the car into a tight spot. You cringe with every movement, bracing for the sound of metal scraping metal, but it never comes.

He leans his seat back, invading your already cramped space, and pulls out two rolling trays. One gets passed to Suguru while the other balances precariously on the center console.

“Gotchu doll,” Toji says, swatting away Gojo’s hands as he picks up the mylar bag and starts grinding the weed.

You lean your head on Suguru’s shoulder, watching as he expertly packs the blunt, his fingers flexing with practiced ease. His brows knit together in concentration, and you absentmindedly trace the slit in one of them with your fingertip. The flick of the lighter precedes the soft flare of a flame as Suguru seals the blunt with a lick and lights it with a calm efficiency.

He passes the blunt to you first, winking, his lashes low and dark against his cheekbones. “Ladies first.”

Toji smirks and rolls up the windows. “Get your last breath of fresh air, everyone.”

You comply, taking a deep inhale before the blunt meets your lips. The first drag is warm and sweet, the earthy blueberry flavor lingering on your tongue. By the third, Suguru’s lips press against yours, his tongue sneaking between them as he kisses you deeply, tasting the smoke still in your mouth.

Drawing back, he hums appreciatively. “Mmm, Gojo, your strain’s flavor is so distinct it’s kiss-transferable. Truly one of one.”

Gojo whoops. “No way! I need to start charging more for my work. I’m in the lab cooking like Professor Utonium.” He grabs the blunt from Suguru and hands him the second one that Toji just finished rolling.

By now, the car is heavy with smoke. The faint buzz in your limbs morphs into a warm tingle as Toji launches into a monologue about his latest scams.

“—And if you make a big purchase, I’ll get your money back—ten percent cut for me, of course,” he explains, passing the blunt.

Gojo, giggling uncontrollably, wheezes. “Panhandling in a hotbox is CRAZY work.”

Toji’s reclines in his seat, legs spread wide, “What can I say, I got kids to feed.”

Suguru taps your thigh, drawing you out of a daze. You pass him the blunt with a shaky hand, shooting him a lazy grin. His gaze lingers, warm and heavy, before he takes a long drag.

You take a deep breath, but your lungs only fill with thick smoke, leaving you coughing softly. 

Blinking through the haze, it dawns on you—each of you is now holding a blunt, four in rotation. The air is dense, swirling with the acrid sweetness of burning weed, and the car feels like a hotbox on steroids.

Toji shifts in his seat, the humidity inside making his dark hair cling to his neck. He fiddles with the radio, pausing on a 90s hip-hop station. The bass-heavy beat fills the car as he nods along, a small grin playing on his lips.

“This used to be my shit,” he mutters, lost in the music.

“Old head,” Gojo chimes in, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Without missing a beat, Toji fires back, “I prefer DILF, thank you.”

Your phone buzzes in your lap, the screen lighting up with a message. Suguru notices and leans over, smirking as you open the group chat:

last 3 braincells

sugu: so are we just gonna ignore how toji’s macking on gojo rn HARD

toru: mom pick me up im scared

You bite back a laugh, shoulders shaking as Suguru chuckles quietly against your neck, his breath tickling your skin.

you: am I the only 1 who heard him say kids? as in plural…

toru: YOOO WTF yr right he did!

sugu: aint no mf way

Meanwhile, Toji is oblivious, drumming his fingers on the console and humming along to the music. 

He casts a glance back at you all. “Whatchu kids know ‘bout this?”

toru: 3 minutes

sugu: huh?

toru: 3 min until I crack open my window I feel like I’m suffocating

sugu: nonononononono

you: omg toru me too I’ve choked down 9 coughs you: it hurts so bad

Gojo snakes his hand between the seats, holding up three fingers as he starts a silent countdown. 

You reach over, squeezing his hand in solidarity, your chest burning from suppressed coughs.

Suguru leans into you again, his lips brushing your ear. “I’m officially faded,” he whispers, voice light and hazy.

Finally, Gojo rolls down the window, and chaos erupts.

A dense cloud of smoke billows out, so thick it looks like the car’s on fire. Toji yells, “THE FUCK?!” scrambling to lock the windows, but it’s too late. The night swallows the smoke, leaving the car reeking and Toji fuming.

Outside, you stretch, your movements sluggish as your lungs finally catch some fresh air. The world feels surreal, every sensation heightened and slightly off-kilter. Smoke continues to waft out, curling into the night sky like some supernatural fog.

Toji glares at Gojo, shaking his head. “Y’all are lucky I’m feeling nice tonight,” he grumbles, popping the trunk with a sharp click. “Let’s head in now.”

He grabs his bag, slinging it over his shoulder as Gojo circles the car, unzipped bag in hand and a fistful of gummy bears in his mouth. “Welf,” Gojo mumbles, barely intelligible around the candy, “thas was… interessing.”

You swipe a couple of gummy bears from his bag, popping one into your mouth and offering another to Suguru. The sugary burst soothes your throat, and Suguru hums appreciatively as he takes the gummy from your fingers.

Suguru holds up the gummy bear. “Here’s to playing bystander while Toji speedruns going broke.”

Gojo cackles, tossing a gummy into his mouth. “And thus, the world restores its natural order.”

The inside of the casino hits you like a sensory overload in your inebriated state. Flashing lights blur and disorient, leaving you dumbstruck until Suguru’s firm pull steadies you. The air buzzes with energy, a cacophony of laughter, shouts, and the constant chime of slot machines. The sharp scent of liquor mixes with the faint aroma of stale cigarettes. High ceilings and regal gold detailing loom above, exuding opulence, but you can’t shake the feeling of being out of place. Self-consciousness creeps in, tightening around your chest.

Suguru’s hand threads through yours, warm and grounding. You follow him as he trails behind Gojo, weaving through the sea of patrons toward the slot machines. The upturned glances from passersby sting—a mix of judgment and amusement no doubt drawn by the pungent scent of weed clinging to your clothes. You square your shoulders and decide to own it.

Settling next to Gojo, you watch him whip out a wad of cash with zero hesitation. He gleefully feeds the glowing red slot machine, his movements full of fervor. You and Suguru exchange a knowing glance, both having agreed earlier to sit out on gambling. The likelihood of loss was too high for your liking.

But Gojo? Gojo thrives on chaos.

He strikes out again and again, spinning and losing sixty consecutive bets. The grating whirl of the slots feels louder than ever in your ears.

Then, miraculously, he hits a match. Gojo’s eyes light up with disbelief and excitement, his grin infectious. Without missing a beat, he stuffs another ten bills into the machine.

Suguru groans, rubbing his temple. “I want the record to show that when Satoru complains about losing hundreds tomorrow, I’m absolutely saying, ‘I told you s—’’”

“COOME ON, SEVEN! C’MON! COME TO DADDY!”

The booming voice is unmistakable. Toji.

You and Suguru whip your heads around, craning to see where the commotion is coming from. A large crowd clusters near the craps table, and you catch a glimpse of Toji gesturing wildly. You nudge Gojo’s shoulder, but he waves you off without looking up.

“Can’t stop. I’m on a roll.”

Rolling your eyes, you follow Suguru as he pushes through the crowd. People mutter complaints, but you’re too curious to care. Finally, you reach the front.

Toji is at the center of it all, shooting dice with the swagger of someone who owns the place. A hefty stack of cash rests on the table, and the crowd cheers as he rolls another seven. Chips clatter as side bets are placed, the table a kaleidoscope of frantic energy.

“Blow for me, sweetheart,” Toji purrs to a blushing young woman beside him. She complies with a shy smile, and Toji winks before tossing the dice with practiced ease. They land with precision—a perfect seven.

“FUCK YEAH!”

Cheers erupt again, only to be cut short by a voice crackling over the speakers:

“Good evening, patrons. Could the owner of a black Honda Accord parked out front please make their way to the front desk? You are wrongfully parked in VIP. Thank you.”

Toji curses under his breath, scanning the crowd until his eyes land on you. “AYEE, Suguru! Be a dear and handle that for me, huh? I’ll give you a cut of this sweet cash.”

Suguru sighs, extending his arms. Toji tosses the keys, which Suguru catches effortlessly.

You make your way back through the crowd, calling out over the commotion, “At least we’ve got an excuse to leave now! This is insane!”

Outside, the cool night air hits your face, bringing instant relief from the chaos inside. You slide into the passenger seat, sighing as you pull Suguru’s arm toward you and snuggle into his warmth. He hums softly, the blinker ticking as he maneuvers the car toward the parking lot down the street.

The headlights flicker, casting dim light on the uneven pavement. Suguru squints, searching for an open spot. After a few minutes of frustration, he backs into a secluded space far from the casino.

“It’s even farther than I thought,” you mutter, not looking forward to the walk back.

Suguru reclines his seat with a heavy sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. You nuzzle into his bicep, stroking his fingers.

“What’s wrong, Suguru?”

“This just isn’t how I pictured tonight going,” he admits, tilting his head back with a wry smile.

You kiss along his arm, teasing, “Oh, come on. You’d just be playing video games all night anyway. Don’t act like I didn’t save you from yourself.”

He chuckles, his eyes softening as he glances down at you. “Neglecting you, was I? My apologies, baby.”

He juts his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout, and the mischievous glint in his eye makes your heart flutter. “Come here,” he murmurs, guiding you onto his lap.

You crawl over to the driver’s seat eagerly, letting Suguru’s hands guide your legs until you’re firmly settled on his lap. His palms trace the curve of your thighs, warm and deliberate, as he pouts dramatically, his expression expectant.

Turning your face away, you catch a lock of his long, black hair between your fingers, twirling it absently. He reaches up, cupping your cheeks and squeezing gently, forcing your lips into an exaggerated pout.

“Don’t do that,” he murmurs, leaning forward to kiss you, firm and unyielding.

You refuse to meet his kiss, turning your face further away in defiance. He exhales a quiet laugh, releasing your face to pepper soft kisses on each cheek before cradling your jaw with both hands. His dark eyes lock onto yours, half-lidded with a mixture of fondness and heat. His thumb brushes your bottom lip, his touch languid as it draws teasing circles along your thigh.

The resolve for your bratty act falters under his touch, and your resistance melts. You lean in, capturing his lips roughly, hands sliding up to tangle in his hair. Teeth graze, tongues intertwine, and the kiss grows hungrier, his low groans resonating between you.

Your fingers trail to the sensitive shell of his ear, stroking lightly. His breath catches, and he grinds against you in response, lips trailing down to the curve of your neck.

“You gonna finally take care of me, Sugu?” you whisper breathlessly. “Right here, in Toji’s car?”

He groans against your skin, biting gently before pulling back to look at you. “Yeah? So needy you need me right here?”

His hands slide under your shirt, palms splaying against your bare skin as he presses a kiss to the base of your throat. His hips buck upward, grinding into you, and a soft moan escapes your lips.

“Want you, Sugu. Need you now,” you murmur, tugging at the waistband of your leggings.

Suguru chuckles low, kissing you again as he helps slide your leggings down, lips never straying far from your skin. You tug at his zipper, freeing him from his boxers. His cock springs free, thick and glistening at the tip, the deep tan of his skin contrasting sharply with the flushed pink of his head, already leaking.

“God,” you whisper, staring at him through your lashes as you lean down, kissing the velvety head. 

Your tongue flicks over the slit, savoring the salty taste of him as he groans, head falling back.

“Pretty girl,” he rasps, “don’t make me wait.”

You smirk, letting your spit drip down his shaft, spreading it in slow strokes before positioning yourself over him. His hands grip your hips as you sink onto him, inch by inch, the stretch stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Fuck,” he groans, holding you steady. “That’s it, baby. So tight, so perfect.”

You bottom out with a gasp, the fullness almost overwhelming, and he grinds you against him, his hips rolling to drive him deeper. The sensation sends a shiver through you, and you bite into his neck to muffle a moan.

He responds with a sharp slap to your ass, the sting making you squeak. “Move, baby. Need to feel you.”

You begin bouncing on him, your pace faltering as pleasure wracks your body. Suguru takes over, gripping your thighs and lifting you effortlessly, his movements deep and relentless. You’re reduced to broken moans, your nails clawing at his chest beneath his shirt.

“F-fuck, Sugu—ah touch me,” you whimper.

He obliges, one hand sliding to your clit, rubbing in tight circles. You cry out his name, trembling as the coil in your stomach snaps, leaving you gushing around him.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice rough.

Your eyes flutter open, meeting his heated gaze as he thrusts up into you, chasing his own release. 

His grip tightens, and with a low groan, he spills inside you, warmth flooding your core.

You collapse against his chest, his lips brushing your temple as you both catch your breath. His fingers stroke through your hair, and you hum contentedly, savoring the intimacy of the moment.

Then his phone vibrates, breaking the quiet. You retrieve it, holding it up as Suguru unlocks it.

Satoru: SOS Toji is down $5k in the hole, and I gambled away all my cash. Satoru: Please come get us. /srs Satoru: Pull up to the front ASAP. Satoru: Now he’s down $6k. Hurry!!!

Suguru reads the messages aloud, his voice tinged with amusement. You both glance at the mess you’ve left on Toji’s seat and exchange a sheepish look.

“Well,” you say, smirking, “he can’t be that mad. Not when he’s already lost sixteen grand.”

Suguru laughs, shaking his head as he pulls you close again. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

[taglist: @inthedarkshadows000 @saltyhansen @m0rgui <33]

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗗𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗞𝗟𝗬, 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗟𝗬 lando norris x friend! fem! reader (fluff) fic summary . . . After going out with lando to a club for funsies and drinks, the Brit's jealousy kicks in after someone tries to hit on you, which somehow finally leads to your first kiss.

( my master list | more of lando norris ) ( requests )

He was drunk. Horribly drunk.

A dreamy smile stretched across his face as you wiped the blood trickling from his nose, his head constantly tilting in your grip as you tried—without much success—to restore some semblance of dignity after the fight he just started and promptly lost.

See, your friend Lando got jealous. Ridiculously, stupidly jealous. And his jealousy didn’t mix well with the copious amount of alcohol he’d consumed. So when the guy you were chatting with dared to wrap a hand around your waist, Lando happily shoved his way through the crowd of dancing bodies to wedge himself between you and the other guy, pushing him off and throwing the first punch.

It did not end well for him.

Lando wasn’t built for fistfights—Fortnite and COD, maybe. Driving? Absolutely. But street fighting? Not a chance. One uppercut later, and he was out cold on the floor. And you, being the ever-loyal, ever-angelic friend, had no choice but to take his side. A well-placed kick to the groin and a solid punch later, you ended the fight.

Now, because you were such a good friend, you found yourself hauling his sorry, bleeding self to the club’s bathroom, plopping him on the counter so you could patch him up. At the very least, he needed to be in a presentable enough state to leave without anyone capturing the moment on video. F1 Twitter was already chaotic enough without footage of a bloodied Lando Norris surfacing. The cars needed to go racing—what would the fans do if they weren’t busy debating whether or not Lando was secretly vaping while pregnant? (Which, if men could get pregnant, Lando would surely be the first.)

“I bet you wouldn’t kiss me,” Lando blurted out suddenly, smiling up at you like the lost puppy he was.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes.

He let out a loud laugh, arms lazily wrapping around your waist as he pulled you in, resting his chin on your chest and gazing up at you with that classic no-thoughts-head-empty expression.

“This is drunk Lando speaking,” he announced, promptly letting out a burp. You glanced up at the ceiling, hoping for divine intervention—or at the very least, an angel laughing at him and not at you.

“And as drunk Lando, I’m very angry at you,” he continued.

“You don’t look angry,” you countered, taking in his dopy, grinning face.

“I am very angry,” he insisted, shaking his head before nuzzling against you, eyes fluttering shut.

“Oh no, I wonder why?” you deadpanned, threading your fingers through his curls. That only made him squeeze you tighter, his grip firm but entirely affectionate.

“Because you let other guys touch you,” he muttered, voice muffled against you. “And you were talking to that guy. And you know I like you, but you still talked to the guy and let him touch you.”

You opened your mouth, but before you could say anything, he added, “I wanna touch you too. In a respectful, demure way.”

“Lando, don’t say demure.”

“Demure.” He huffed, just to spite you, swinging his legs where he sat on the counter like a child. “I’m just saying, I’ve been waiting in line longer, and I didn’t even get to do my elevator pitch yet—”

You cut him off, cupping his face and tilting it up before kissing him. Just to shut him up.

Lando melted instantly, hands fisting the fabric of your dress as he tried to pull you even closer, as if you weren’t already pressed against him.

When you finally pulled back, you smirked. “You owe me… I don’t know what yet. But you lost the bet. I kissed you.”

Lando just stared up at you, dazed—his smile completely wiped away, lips parted, eyes flickering to your lips again.

It was like you had just fried his last brain cell.

[charliemwrites]

Woof woof… whimper

(Part 10… but technically a continuation of part 9)

Content: Dub-Con/Non-Con, Knotting

It takes your cock-addled brain a second too long to process what Soap’s just said. What he’s implied. And by then he’s all ready for you to buck against him, confused and angry.

“That’s so — that’s not funny!” You shout.

But he’s got you pinned thoroughly, your chest flat against the mattress and your ass flush against his hips. His cock buried so deep you can feel the hot head of it bullying the deepest parts of you. All your struggling does is make you clench up tight around him, makes him feel that much bigger and meaner inside you. Makes him grunt low and ragged in your ear, all animal appreciation.

“I’m not laughin’,” he replies, nipping at your shoulder.

“G-get off of me, get out, get—”

His hand slides into your hair again, gets a firm hold at the roots and presses your face into the blankets, muffling your protests. Shushes you like soothing a panicked animal.

“Now, now,” he chides, “I still gotta prove I’m not compensating, don’t I?”

You suck in a breath, squeezing your eyes shut. There have to be a million explanations other than the absolutely ludicrous one he’s just presented to you. Cameras, microphones….

How did he know where you live?

How did he know where the spare key was?

How did he know where your bedroom was?

How did he find you at the bar?

Stalker, you tell yourself. He’s a creep, you’ve always known that.

Then where’s your dog?

“N-no,” you warble, bucking again. Nearly scream as his cock twitches inside you; only reason you don’t is because you can barely breathe as it is. He’s so deep inside that he’s practically in your lungs. “No way you’re my — there’s no way. You’re crazy. I’m gonna— ah!”

He draws out as you speak, gradual, and then plunges in again all at once, cutting you off. Grinds his hips in a dirty circle too, burying himself as deep as he can.

“Aww, poor thing,” he coos. “S’alright, baby, I knew this would happen. We jus’ gotta get all those big, scary feelings out first. Then I can explain it all nice and slow.”

You try to scream at him. Try to curse him out, tell him there’s no way in hell you’re listening to a word he says now; never mind letting him spend another second with his dick in you.

All that comes out is a high-pitched keen as he starts fucking you without further preamble. It aches, but you can’t tell in what way. If it hurts, if it’s the best you’ve ever had. Both? Your nerves feel haywire, brain dragged to lust-stupid depths.

“See, there we go,” he rasps, punctuating with a sharp snap of his hips on that last word. “My perfect little mate. Your cunt was made for my cock, made to be bred by me. Isn’t that right?”

You try to shake your head, but his grip keeps you from doing more than sending electricity down your spine, hair pulled taut.

“Yeah it fucking is,” he growls to his own question, canting your hips back further. His fingers grip cruelly into the flesh, sure to leave bruises. You wish you didn’t enjoy the sensation, wish it didn’t make you spasm around him helplessly.

“‘Bout time I owned you right back, don’t you think?” He continues, never stopping or even slowing. You yelp as he tugs your necklace again, arching your back at a steep angle. “Even collared yourself up for me. All it needs is my name.”

Something about that drives some awful, slutty part of your brain fucking wild. The idea of you with a tight leather choker — a collar — with his name (you don’t think about what name) hanging from your throat…

“Like that, don’t you?” He chuckles meanly. “Who’s my good little slut? Who’s my perfect, soaked little breeding whore?”

Tears spring to your eyes as you realize the “I am” is right there on the tip of your over-saturated tongue. If you had air, brain cells, any ability at all, you’d be crying it to the ceiling like the toy he’s treating you as.

He’s going to ruin you, you think. He’s going to fuck you broken. You’re crying and wailing on his cock, think you’d actually throw a tantrum if he pulled out and left you on the edge right now. Would, you realize in horror, beg for him to keep going.

And then he snakes his hand around your hip and starts rubbing your clit — fast, hard little circles. Just the way you like; the way you’d do it yourself. Relentlessly and cruel, even when you try to writhe away from how fast you can feel yourself getting to the edge. Almost frightened by it, how quickly he’s mastered your body’s pleasure.

Frightened by the extra stimulation at your entrance, too. A little extra friction at first — shocking because you’re leaving a puddle on the sheets. But then the friction becomes pressure, becomes… more.

“W-wha….?” You slur, hips wriggling.

Soap (Johnny?) snarls in your ear and that feeling at your entrance grows. Feels, you realize with alarm, like stretching.

“Gonnae take my knot so well,” he rambles, accent thick like syrup, trickling into your empty brain, filling you up with meaningless sounds. “Plug you up full of my cum, breed you right just like you need.”

Any questions or confusion are whisked away by the extra stimulation at your entrance. The sensitive nerves getting just as much brutal attention as your inner walls, your cervix, that sweet spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back.

It all becomes too much all at once and crashes through you, devastating. You clamp down around him tight and needy, lean all your weight back into his thighs. And he practically howls as he sinks into you and stays, grinding and humping without ever actually pulling out again. You feel a flood of heat that seems to go on for an absurdly long time, cock pulsing against your overstimulated walls, milked for every last drop.

You shudder as your brain tries and fails to process it all. Like trying to decipher a foreign language from white noise. It’s nothing but static to you.

You can feel a tongue against your shoulder, scraped of blunt teeth. Soap/Johnny licking the sweat from your skin and nipping bruises into the flesh. You make an annoyed noise that comes out whinier than intended, shoving at his face.

“Get off, you bastard.” Your voice is pathetic, thick with tears and fractured in a hundred places.

“Can’t, bonnie, even if I wanted to.”

You scowl, try to look at him over your shoulder. He takes that opportunity to nuzzle against your temple.

“What?” You ask. “What are you talking about?”

“Did ye hear me?” He chuckles. “Well, maybe not with the way you were screamin’. You’re all knotted up, baby. Can’t pull out — ‘less you want this pretty pussy to tear.”

You jolt, nearly yank yourself off out of pure fear, but Johnny keeps you still again, humming.

“Easy now,” he croons. “Still fussy? Need another to settle down?”

Useless as your brain may be, it recognizes what he means by “another one.” You think you might pass out.

“No,” you snap, petulant even to your own ears. “I want you to explain… explain everything.”

“Alright, hen. C’mere.”

He gently lays you out prone on the bed, then rolls you both on your sides. Hitches your leg up over his hip. You want to protest, but it helps the ache in your poor cunt.

“H-how are you still hard?” You pant, traitorous pussy twitching around him.

He growls in your ear, can feel him grinning against the lobe. “Will stay that way for a bit, lass. Don’ worry, you jus’ have to lay here all nice and still. Keep me warm while I explain things to you.”

And he does. How there are shapeshifters out there in the world, rare as they are. That he comes from a line of them. Recruited to military, as most of them are.

How he was on standard patrol when he smelled you for the first time.

“Like a wet dream, bonnie. Fertile. Spring. Smelled like mine.”

How he instantly knew you were his mate. That he just needed to make you see it. Never a good time to explain it all to you — and then there were interlopers and your silly little books and your pesky toys. How he tried to drop hints around the house, let you come to the correct conclusion on your own. But you never did.

“Honestly it’s a good thing I’m here, hen. You’re so oblivious. Lived with a man and never even knew it.”

That he tried to go about it the other way ‘round, as a man, but you’re just so stubborn. And then how it all led up to tonight. To you finally, finally realizing what you really needed: your mate.

You should be angry, furious. There’s a lot to say about… well, all of it. It’s horrifying and violating and… and…

And he hasn’t stopped bullying your clit since he started talking. Cruel, tight circles. Drawing the hood back with two fingers and stroke with a third, slow and languid and just soft enough to make your head spin. Rhythmless taps. Even pinches when you try to chew him out at one point, half turning to scowl. Instead have his tongue lapping sloppily at yours as your mouth gapes open soundlessly.

Makes you cum twice just like that without ever interrupting his own story, cock still hilted — knotted deep inside you. Honestly, you probably miss a good portion of it, some of the finger details for sure. But you get the broad strokes (among other strokes).

He licks at your overstimulated tears when he’s finished, nuzzling and kissing your cheek.

“I-I miss my dog,” you mumble finally, hands balled against your chest.

“Aww, darlin’,” he sighs, sounding genuinely apologetic. “We’re one and the same. I’m always your boy no matter what form I take.”

It would be more comforting if his dick didn’t throb calling himself your boy.

“‘Sides, I’m better than a normal mutt,” he continues, tugging you against his chest. You want to hate that is instantly makes you feel a little better. “Wolves mate for life, after all.”

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Masterlist

[signanothername]

Can we get a timeline of your comics? If you have a timeline- then is there a link somewhere?

Uuh tbh I never made a linear timeline? I’m genuinely bad at linear storytelling, that’s why I prefer to make comics based on whichever suits my fancy regardless of whether it’s in the past or future

It’s also a bit complicated with the idea of portraying different killers shzhzhhd

I have made a little timeline here talking about the ages, and when MTT were recruited, but it’s just that one quick timeline chhchc

But I can try to order them for you? And at least mention for some of them where they are timeline wise

Ok so order will be from past - present- future, and I’ll try to note anything of interest

Not all comics will be included, since some of them are made either for fun, or they aren’t necessarily part of the timeline, just a silly what if side comic, etc

I did try to include all comics of interest, including those that were ask oriented, if there’s a comic you have in mind that I haven’t included in the timeline feel free to ask about it, cause I could’ve easily missed something (I made so many comics my lord dbdbbxbxb)

With all that out of the way let’s go

———

A promised kiss - this comic happens right after the apple incident, when all villagers are dead, the village burned to the ground, and Dream’s in stone, Nightmare is still in the high of his madness

Stone grave - happend only once, around the last day of the 499th year only a few hours before Dream’s release, Dream is released exactly on the 500th year when the clock hits 12am after

Linguists… - this happens a few weeks after the first Killer’s recruitment, no one is in the castle but him and Nightmare at that point, Killer 1 hasn’t been subjected to Nightmare’s conditioning yet.. explicitly at least (this Killer doesn’t survive, he’s killed before anyone else is recruited)

Unfeeling machine - a few months in after Killer 2’s recruitment, no one but him and Nightmare in the castle, Killer is at the beginning of his conditioning, still hasn’t been fully conditioned (this version of Killer is also killed before anyone else is recruited)

Watched… - a regular occurrence, but this specifically happens before Murder’s recruitment by a short while, only Killer 3 and Nightmare are at the castle, Killer 3 is highly conditioned but yet not conditioned fully

Get humbled Nightmare - takes place before Murder’s recruitment by a short while, Killer 3 is highly conditioned at this point

A never ending game - happens before Murder’s recruitment by a short while, Killer 3 is highly conditioned

Apple pins - happens before Murder’s recruitment by a few weeks, so it’s still only Killer 3 and Nightmare in the castle at this time, Killer is highly conditioned

illusion of choice - happens a few months after Murder’s recruitment, Horror hasn’t yet been recruited, Killer 3 is fully conditioned

Erased and forgotten - happens after Color’s release from the void by a few months, Color starts his passion for photography after, for reference, Color breaks out of the void somewhere around the same time Murder gets recruited, he hasn’t yet met killer

Trauma - happened once, somewhere after a while of Murder’s recruitment, but before Horror’s recruitment

“Handson experience” - this happens somewhere after Horror’s recruitment, Horror hasn’t been recruited for long in here, hence, his inability to tell Nightmare’s mood and how he shows it, think after his recruitment by a few months

One brain cell - happens after Horror’s recruitment by a few years (-5 years), Horror has yet to get accustomed to Killer 3’s behavior while Murder is more knowledgeable of Killer 3’s attitude and masks

Will he ever truly escape? - happens with Killer 3 who’s saved, Nightmare’s showing Killer 4 to him

Choice - Killer 3 has already been saved here, he hasn’t survived Nightmare

Brink of death - happens after Killer 4 has been recruited, Dream has grown a bit more mature and a bit wiser to Nightmare’s emotional manipulation

999 apples - happens after Dream’s grown wise to Nightmare’s manipulation, when he finally has enough resolve to actually aim to kill, first time Dream takes a killing shot

Final request - happens somewhere in the middle of the timeline,, all MTT’s have been recruited for a while

Thanatophobia - also happens somewhere in the middle of the timeline, after all MTT’s recruitment for a while

You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you - happens with Killer 4 who Color saved for only a short while

It’s even more foolish for you to trust yourself - this shows killer 4, Killer 4 is only shortly killed after his escape

Emotional suppression - Killer 5, happens a few months after Killer 5 met Color for the first time (Killer 5 is the Killer that actually survives Nightmare)

Dearest, who hurt you? - happens in the middle of the timeline, Killer 5 is newly recruited, Horror and Murder all have been recruited for awhile

Pets - shows Killer 5, happens in the middle of the timeline, Horror is now knowledgeable of Killer’s behavior in general

Keeping the kitties safe - happens after Killer 5’s first kitten was almost killed by Nightmare, think somewhere in the middle of the timeline, where Killer 5 has known Color for a good few years at that point and their friendship a bit more stable where there’s mutual trust

Soul capture (part 1) - happens regularly, but this specifically takes place in the middle of the timeline, where MTT had been recruited for a while, and after Killer 5 and Color have already gotten attached

Soul capture (part 2) - takes place a few weeks after part 1 of soul capture

All's fair in love and war - happens within the middle of the timeline, MTT are all recruited and Killer 5 has met Color at this point

Nonexistent mercy - happens somewhere in the middle of the timeline, where Killer 5 had spent enough time around Color to truly be attached to him to

Killer vs Dream - happens a few weeks after “Nonexistent mercy”

A will of steel - takes place within the middle of the timeline, Murder tries talking to Nightmare only once

Ultimatum (part 1) - middle of the timeline

Ultimatum (part 2) - happens right after Ultimatum 1 within the same day

A secret unfolded - happens after Ultimatum by a few weeks

I love you (Part 1), I love you (Part 2) - happens actually very later in the timeline, when Dream realizes that during their fights, Dream hasn’t told Nightmare how much he loves him enough, too preoccupied with everything to notice how far they’ve truly been driven apart

Letting off steam - takes place somewhere down the line, Killer 5 is planning his escape with Color at this point

Read like an open book - happens after Color saves Killer 5

Worth it - happens after Killer 5’s saved by a few months, Killer 5 is still fully conditioned, and him and Color are still facing so much difficulty in their relationship, Killer 5 is fully attached to Color at this point

Delta vs Killer - happens a few months after Killer 5’s saved

Numb - happens a few months after Killer 5’s saved

Besties? - happens after Killer 5’s saved, Ink and him developing their own version of friendship

A beautifully haunting smile - happens semi-regularly where Killer 5 would associate Color’s looks with Nightmare, mostly happens after he’s saved by only a few years (-5 years), later down the line those associations break little by little

Not human nor monster - happens after killer 5’s been saved for a few years (-5 years)

One rule (part 1) - happens a few years after Killer 5’s escape (think -5 years)

The end is never (part 2 of one rule) - happens a few days right after “one rule”

Guilt trip town - happens a few years after Killer 5’s saved (-5 years)

Cross soul - happens a few weeks after meeting Cross for the first time after Killer 5’s saved (-5 years)

On the topic of kindness - this comic happens years after Killer 5’s saved, enough years have passed for Killer to have learned a bit more of a healthy way of life (think +5 years after Killer’s escape)

Subconscious protectiveness - happens within the same setting/time as “on the topic of kindness”, think of it as a silly extension of it

Your own worst enemy - this comic happens a few months after “on the topic of kindness”, Nightmare is facing a few different mental and emotional difficulties, Horror has escaped, Murder was Killed, Nightmare’s back to being all alone in his castle

Similarities - happens a few months after “your own worst enemy”

Familiarity - happens only a few weeks after “your own worst enemy”, Killer 5 and Nightmare tend to meet a bit too often for a while

Strike one - happens after Killer 5’s saved for a while, think +5 years

Hierarchy - happens after “Strike one” by a few months

Engrossed yet blocked out love - happens while Nightmare’s alone again in his castle, MTT haven’t been there for +5 years, and Nightmare is still facing difficulties

Capturing moments - happens 7+ years after Killer 5’s saved

A Little life update - happens later down the line, Killer 5 hasn’t seen Nightmare for a while, and has developed a lot more of a healthy relationship with life and himself

Molded - Killer 5 meets Nightmare again in unusual circumstances, Killer 5 is over halfway through his healing journey, his conditioning has a lot less effect on him than it used to, back to only being half conditioned

Apathetic - happens many years after Killer 5’s escape (think +10 years)

There’s nothing to fix - happens way later in the timeline, Dream is desperate to convince Nightmare to stop spreading negativity, MTT long gone by this point, Nightmare is still all alone in his castle

Taunting - happens way later down the line, Nightmare is still all alone in his castle, this shows killer 5

Nightmare and a kitty - happens way later in the timeline, Nightmare is still all alone in his castle, Nightmare find his fascination with cats as a coping mechanism, and as a sort of fucked up association with Killer 5

———

Side comics of interest:

Below is a list of comics that do happen in the timeline, but are not necessarily significant one time events but rather something that happens regularly within the timeline, so it could take place really anywhere in the timeline from present to future

Error vs Killer - happens a few times, when Error’s a bit in a trigger happy mood

Eating problems - simply to show their food issues, it’s a regular occurrence

Constant menace - happens regularly within Ink and Error as they deal with their own shenanigans

Crocodile tears - happens regularly where Nightmare manipulates Dream’s emotions, this is just to show one of the ways Nightmare uses for his manipulation tactics

Strangers - happens sometimes where the twins meet by coincidence when they’re not exactly fighting, they usually just move on without a single word

Make it hurt - something to show Nightmare’s relationship with other characters, happens somewhere in the middle of the timeline after all MTT already has been recruited

A frightened child - happens regularly in their fights, another way to show Nightmare’s manipulation of Dream’s emotions

Manipulation - happens regularly

Dissonance - happens semi-regularly, this shows Killer 5

Reaching for what’s missing - happens regularly

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 3- Easier Said Than Done

Summary: Frankie's been by your side through some of the hardest moments in your life. Three years have gone by, and now there's no one you want to see less when you find yourself at your lowest.

Word Count: 4.1K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Angst, yearning, mentions of death, sick parent, descriptions of a panic attack, hospitals, teenage Frankie's back at it again making it impossible for us to hate him!!

A/N: Hello, my name is Madeline and I am unable to stop writing gut wrenching angst and yearning. (Hi, Madeline). Maybe one of these days I'll stop sobbing like an idiot when I write, but I fear that day may not be coming any time soon

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

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You, Spring of 2006, Age 17

Most people say it’s the smell of hospitals they can’t stand. For you, it’s the noise. The constant chaos of voices, monitors, sirens, carts clattering as they roll across the never ending linoleum floor drives you insane. Even when it’s quiet, it’s still never silent. There’s always an ever present reminder looming in the distance to not get too comfortable. The inevitable fear that something could go wrong, and have you wishing that all you had to listen to was the ambiance of continual pandemonium. 

That’s why it’s such a relief when you hear the quiet ping of your cell phone resting on the edge of your chair. It’s enough to drown out everything else for a little while. 

Frankie :)))))) 

Hey where r u?

Game starts soon and I cant find u 

Katie and Morgan said they havent seen u either 

R u ok?   

You

Yeah I’m ok. 

Dad passed out and hit his head. Mom wasn’t home so I had to take him to the ER. 

Called Coach K in the ambulance to tell her I won’t be there. 

It’s times like these that it takes everything in you to remind yourself that missing big events to keep your dad alive is better than going to big events without him being here. But when you’re decked head to toe in your soccer uniform, sitting on the edge of your seat in a crowded emergency room instead of getting ready to start the last game of your senior year, it’s hard not to feel a little bitter about it. 

You read back over Frankie’s texts as you wait for his response, doing the quick math in your brain before frantically typing back. 

You

Wait, didn’t you have to work tonight? Are you at the field? 

Frankie :)))))) 

Called off work weeks ago 

U really think I would miss ur last game? Cmon Kenz 

Guess its not a surprise anymore. Surprise! lol 

You hope the nurse passing by doesn’t notice the way you’re grinning like an idiot at your phone, biting down on your bottom lip to keep your smile from growing so wide it’ll hurt your cheeks. You re-read the last three texts over and over, your face growing warmer each time. You’re not sure why you’d expect anything less. It still never fails to make you feel like your heart is seconds away from bursting at the seams. 

Of course he came. 

So lost in your train of thought, you hadn’t seen a fourth text pop up across your screen, only the fifth text of “???” that preceded it. 

Frankie :)))))) 

R u at memorial or westwood hospital? 

??? 

You 

Memorial. Why? 

Frankie :)))))) 

Be there in 15 

You 

Frankie you don’t have to do that 

Frankie :)))))) 

2 L8! Already leaving! See u soon! 

The tears welling in your eyes were most definitely ones of relief, joy even, that Frankie cared enough to attempt to make it to a soccer game you weren’t even at, let alone forgo a night’s worth of pay to drive himself to the hospital to see you. 

Your momentary excitement comes to a sudden stop as onslaught of bodies rush into your room to examine your dad. You’re quick to realize you’ve once again been caught up in a stampede where you’re nothing but another person in the way. An invisible presences that means nothing to anyone in this room. It makes the once blissful wetness welling in the corners of your eyes start to sting with a vengeance. 

But you’ve come very quickly to learn that crying doesn’t help anyone, especially when you’re not the one dying. 

You try not to let it hurt when your mom doesn’t even acknowledge the fact you’re sporting the jersey of the team you were supposed to start playing with twenty minutes ago, like you had brought your dad to the hospital in your uniform because that and your cleats were the easiest thing to throw on before you called 911. It’s even harder to try not to scream at the fact she barely pays your presence any mind, not even so much as a ‘thank you’ for getting your dad to the hospital in one piece. What’s the most painful is that you’re positive that she, or anyone else, even notices you’re gone when you slip out the door.

You’re here so often that the hospital staff don’t mind that you pace up and down the rows of the waiting room. Sure, they’ll be sending you a bill for the hole you’re burning through their carpet eventually, but that’s not today’s problem. 

Right now, part of the reason for your frantic pacing is to cool off some steam so you don’t say something you’ll regret about your dad’s cancer having the audacity to ruin the most important soccer game of your life to date. 

You’re also here so often, the hospital staff know Frankie. So much so, that your favorite receptionist, Cassandra, has more than definitely broken several hospital rules to let Frankie stick around long past visiting hours when you’ve needed it most. That’s why all she has to do is give you that look to break you from your vicious cycle of pacing to let you know when he’s arrived through the sliding glass doors of the front entrance. 

Most times, he at least makes it a few steps inside before you notice him. Tonight, he’s barely halfway through the door before you’re wrapping your arms around him in the tightest hug you have to muster. He pulls you in even tighter. 

It’s then that the reality of it all starts to set in. Your best friend had to drive to meet you at the hospital because he’s the only one that remembers you have a soccer game tonight. Your dad is in a cyclical pattern of slowly dying that leaves you feeling like a terrible person for even wishing things were different. You’ve spent the past nine of your seventeen years of life only knowing a world that revolves around cancer. For nine years, you’ve never complained that this is the way your life has been. Tonight, you’ve decided that the weight of the world is un-fucking-fair. 

Tonight, you’re not the one dying, but crying seems like the only reasonable thing left to do. 

You should be embarrassed by how loud your sobs are, how quick the damn breaks once your body finally lets you give into the pain. These are the kind of tears that make your whole body shake, the ones that make your chest hurt because you can’t catch your breath, gasping for air like some poor, lifeless fish, begging to be thrown back to the sea. 

Frankie’s seen you cry before, but not like this. You should care about how your tears are staining the fabric of his t-shirt, how he’s the only thing keeping you standing while your body feels like it’s about to give out underneath you. You hadn’t said a word to each other before you’d collapsed in his arms in a sobbing heap, but right now you don’t care. You can’t. 

You’re sure words are exchanged at some point as he practically carries you out to his truck, at least giving you the decency to finish crying without unwanted eyes in the waiting room glued to you, but right now, you can’t remember. 

You’re not sure how long it takes you to get back to the point of being able to breathe at a semi-normal pace, but something tells you that Frankie will hold you for as long as you need him too, crying or not.

He gently strokes your back, his thumb tracing over the fabric of your jersey as it draws small circles over and over, a sweet and simple dance of his fingers that steadies you just enough to keep from flying away. 

“It’s okay, Kenz. It’s okay.” It’s melodic the way Frankie coos it in your ear, like he’s trying to hush a fussy baby fighting sleep. It’ll take time, persistence and patience, but lucky for you, he’s got all three in spades. “I promise you’re okay. I’m here.” 

“This fucking sucks.” It’s not elegant or graceful, but it’s the truth, and right now, it’s all your brain can process. 

“I know it is, Kenzie. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not fair. I don’t wanna spend the rest of my life worrying that this is the last day I see him. I just want life to be normal. I just wanna go play my stupid fucking soccer game. It’s not fucking fair.” You ball your fists against Frankie’s chest, pounding into him like he’s the one responsible for your hurt and anger. He’s not the one you need to take it out on, but he’s all you have. You hope he knows it’s not his fault he’s become your emotional punching bag as he takes blow after blow, despite how weak your swings are. You’ve got no strength left to fight. 

“I know. It’s not fair. It’s not fair, MacKenzie.” 

He takes it all until you have nothing left to give. You’ve lost a game no one ever has a chance of winning. Defeat is the unwanted trophy life rewards you with, but Frankie stands at the podium with you. He’ll take the hits if it helps ease the blow. 

“Will you be okay if I’m gone for five minutes? Just five, I promise, and then I’ll be right back.” His question catches you off guard, breaking you from your agitated state, nodding your head just enough to give him the permission he needs to race back through the doors of the hospital as you climb into his passenger seat. 

His truck gives you the kind of familiarity the hospital doesn’t. It’s hard not to find irony in the fact you feel safer in his piece of junk car where the wheels could give out beneath you at any moment than you do in a building that is built for saving people’s lives. Maybe it’s because his truck is filled with the memories of moments in life that make you feel like things are going to be okay. 

With the way Frankie’s breathing as he jumps into the driver’s seat, it’s hard to think he’s not back in less than two minutes, rather than five. He doesn’t say a word to you as he cranks the ignition, only a little prayer under his breath that now’s not a time his engine has chosen to give out on him. He doesn’t let you ask any questions until you’re already on the road. 

“Frankie, what’s- Frankie what are you doing?” 

He’s got that crazed kind of look in his eyes he gets when he’s hellbent on making something happen. He always likes to say that you’re the stubborn one. It makes you wonder the last time he’s taken a good, hard look at himself in the mirror. 

“I’m taking you to your game.” 

He says it so matter of factly, like his response to nearly kidnapping you out of the Memorial Hospital parking lot shouldn’t warrant any questions. 

“What?! Frankie! I can’t just-” 

“The doctor in the room said he’s stable and he probably won’t be conscious for the next few hours anyways. Your mom said it’s fine. I’m not letting you miss out on this. You deserve to get to play, Kenz.” 

You’re not sure at that moment if you want to kiss him or slap him across the back of the head. Maybe it’s a little bit of both. 

“Frankie, I-” 

“I’ll turn around and take you back if you want me to, but I don’t think you want me to turn around.” 

God, maybe you do want to kiss him. 

“I hate you, Francisco, I hope you know that.” 

“I know. It’s okay, you play better when you’re angry, anyways.” 

It’s always the little smirk in the corner of his mouth. The one he makes when he knows he’s right. It’s the same smirk he makes when he greets you after you’ve scored two goals to help your team win the last game of your high school career. The same one he gives you when he buys you ice cream to celebrate with two scoops of cookie dough instead of one, because you won’t stop laughing at his stupid joke about your big appetite for winning. 

That night, you fall asleep on his couch, too tired to drive back to the hospital, too scared to sleep in your house alone. You’re not sure if you mean to doze off with your head resting against his thigh like some sort of makeshift pillow. It’s easiest just to blame it on the fact you’re too exhausted to get up. But as you close your eyes and drift to sleep, you’re almost sure that the only muscle Frankie dares to move is the one that pulls the line of his lips into that same smirk you’d rather die than live without. 

You, Present

You’re shocked your initial response to seeing Frankie Morales for the first time in three years wasn’t immediately slamming your front door in his face and telling him to fuck off. 

That’s what your body wanted you to do. For as badly as it did, your some part of your brain wouldn’t let you. 

It’s probably the same, stupid part of your brain that won’t let you stop staring at him, either. 

He looks good. Way better than you’d like him to. It doesn’t seem fair that he somehow manages to find a way to return home more handsome than when he left. It happens every damn time. You swear he does it on purpose. You don’t know how he could, but that’s what you tell yourself. It makes it easier to hate him. 

“I didn’t know you were home.” 

It’s probably the worst thing you could have said to break the awkward silence stewing between you, because you both know it’s a dirty lie. But at this point, you’re far past granting Frankie the privilege of being a part of the truth- you’ll give him your version of the truth that you want him to hear. You’re not letting him have the upper hand. 

“Yeah. I uh- got home this morning.” 

Good to know the best either of you could do was reduce your relationship down to nothing but lying. If that’s the game he wants to play, then so be it. 

“Drive was good?” 

“Yeah.” Lie. “You?” 

“Fine.” Lie. 

For as much as you know the lies hurt, it’s the curveball you hit him with next that you hope stings the worst. 

“I didn’t think you were gonna come.” 

Because that was the truth. The way his face drops tells you the guilt ridden punch you’ve socked him with hits exactly where you want it to. You want the truth to hurt more. You want it to hurt just as bad as the way his truth hurt you. 

“Of course I was gonna come.” 

It’s a poor attempt at a swing back. He showed up with a knife at your gun fight. He knows well enough you won’t show him any mercy. 

“Wouldn’t have been the first time you hadn’t shown up for something important, Frankie.” 

“Your dad’s fucking dying MacKenzie, what makes you think I wouldn’t be here?” 

“Well, he’s been dying for the past three years so I’m glad you’re deciding to show up when it’s convenient for you.” 

That one shuts him up real fucking fast. 

His jaw ticks as he takes a deep breath, staring up at the sky like there’s something written in the clouds that will give him instructions on what to say next. There’s not much he could say at this point that would shock you, but Frankie never ceases to be full of surprises, whether you like it or not. 

“I’m- fuck- I’m sorry, Kenz. I’m sorry.” 

That shuts you up even quicker. 

It shuts you up because you know he’s not lying. The truth is buried in the way his voice breaks at the start of your name, the way the “K” trembles off his tongue and shakes in the back of his throat. 

Your heart is mangled in your chest, hearing him say the two words you’d never thought you’d get and realizing you can’t accept it. 

“Sometimes sorry isn’t enough, Frankie.” 

Neither of you are sure what to say. It’s tough to tell if the fight is over because Frankie’s stabbed you to death and you’ve unloaded every last bullet you had, or if you decided to put your weapons down and walk away before any casualties have occurred. While it’s hard to deny it’s the latter of the two options, at least the first one would have been the honorable way to go. 

“Honey, is that Frankie at the door? Let him in, MacKenzie, don’t make him stand out there!” 

If there’s one thing you can always count on your mom for, it's that she’ll never fail to have impeccable timing, for better or worse.  

You don’t intend for the sigh you let out to be as loud as it is, but it certainly makes it clear to Frankie you aren’t happy about obliging to your mom’s request. You expect him to pass you like you don’t exist, entering your house to greet the two of the three family members who still care about him enough to not burn a hole through his chest every time they look at him, but he doesn’t. He waits for your okay, frozen on the porch until the subtle shrug of your shoulders signals you’ve given him the all clear to pass. He wants to know you’ll at least let him through unscathed for now. 

You follow behind him as he enters your house, trying to ignore the fact you’re entranced by the dark brown curls that still tickle the nape of his neck as he walks, or how the width of his shoulders nearly stretch from one end of the door frame to the other. You’re starting to regret not letting him follow you in  instead. 

You nearly bump into him with how quick he is to freeze once he sees the state of your living room. In the past few weeks, it’s made a terrible transformation from the space you once knew to a makeshift hospital room. The hospice workers had crowded your house with beds, oxygen tanks, and a wheelchair your dad refuses to sit in, an endless puzzle of enough supplies to let your father die in his own home, rather than the cold, sterile wasteland of the nearest hospital. 

You’d been able to ease yourself into your dad’s decline. You’d watched the months leading up to now as his body became weaker and sicker, reducing down to nothing but bones and deep, dark set eyes. You were a first hand witness to how cancer had greedily sucked every ounce of life he had left in him, taking and taking until he had nothing left to give. 

Last time Frankie saw your dad he was in remission. He looked good, healthy, even. That was three years ago. Frankie would have never imagined barely being able to recognize the man that was the closest thing to a real father he’d ever get. 

You want to scream at him that it’s his own damn fault he’s this shocked when he comes face to face with the shell of the man your dad used to be. But with the way you can practically see the guilt oozing out of Frankie with every step he takes towards the near lifeless body lying in the misplaced hospital bed in your living room, you can’t help but let your empathy get the best of you. 

“Hi Frankie, how are you? It’s so good to see you, honey.” 

Even though your mom knows you’re seconds away from wanting to dropkick Frankie off the face of the earth, there are few things she’ll ever let get in the way of her warm and welcoming demeanor. 

Frankie’s still borderline speechless as your mom grabs the tray of cookies he’s been awkwardly toting before she embraces him, arms still glued to his sides like he’s too afraid to move. The way she’s got him in the hug gives him no choice but to stare at the unsettling image of your dad over her shoulder, barely strong enough to turn his head to see what all the fuss is about. 

“H-hi, Mrs. Anderson. I’m okay. It’s good to see you, too.” 

“Is that my Frank the Tank? C’mere, kiddo. I was hopin’ I’d get to see you.” 

The past few weeks have made you shed enough tears to last a lifetime. Never once did you expect the thing that would make you cry the hardest out of everything you’d been through was hearing the long lost excitement in your dad’s voice upon Frankie’s return. 

It’s childish, the way you storm upstairs and slam your bedroom door behind you without a word, heat seething through your veins at the way your dad was so quick to forgive, welcoming Frankie back into his home like a day hadn’t passed, like he had been there right alongside him every step of the way through his descent. Your blood boils at the fact your father can’t be bothered to remember that Frankie had been nowhere to be found for three fucking years. Not a text, not a call, not even a “Frankie says hi!” through his mother four doors down. 

You can deal with the embarrassment of throwing a full blown temper tantrum later, but that’s more tolerable than spending another second in the same room as Frankie.  

“Well,” your dad huffs, his face grimaced with sarcasm as he looks back and forth between your mom, Frankie, and the empty presence you’d left behind, “that went well.” 

“Sorry about that, she’s um-” 

“She’s fine. Just stubborn.” Your dad grumbles, cutting off your mom with the best attempt he can make to raise his arm from the bed and wave her off. 

“No, I uh- it’s fine, I just- I should probably get going, don’t wanna take um- take up too much of your time.” Frankie’s heart sinks in the uncomfortable silence, quietly cursing himself for the mess he’s made. 

“It’s what, 8 o’clock in the morning? You got a bingo game at the senior center you need to get to, young man?” 

“No, I just-” 

“Perfect, no is the only word I needed to hear.” Your dad weakly smiles, gently patting the edge of the bed for Frankie to join him. 

Your heart winces hearing the heavy footsteps a floor below you from your bedroom, knowing the direction they’re heading is only further into your house and not back out the front door where you’d prefer him to be.

Thank goodness your dad has lost the ability to speak loud enough for you to hear the words that follow the thumps of Frankie’s feet. 

“Frankie, I’ve lived a very happy life. There are few things about it I’d change. But you know just as well as me that my daughter is the one who so lovingly inherited my stubbornness. Lucky for me, God knows I’m stubborn enough not to die until you and her figure this out. Unlucky for the both of you, that my time for stubbornness is starting to run thin.”

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

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[hanasnx]

❝ mercury: retrograde. ❞

── batman x reader

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 2k SUMMARY: after your failed attempt to recover the last pieces of joker present in the victims of his diseased blood donation, you discover a mystery about the batman in both body and spirit. NOTES: during the events of batman: arkham knight, when harley quinn tries to reclaim the joker-ified victims from panessa studios. the reader is somewhat in the place of harley quinn WARNINGS: f!reader | explicit sexual content | implied creampie | unprotected sex | established relationship: enemies to lovers | size difference | slapping (m receiving) | previous relationship with joker is implied.

You stir at the feeling of strong grips handling your waist, the heavy haze of unconsciousness fading as you’re lifted from the ground. Memories gradually return with each inch gained, and your eyelids flutter open, the dull light stinging your gaze. The motion of you being punctually raised to your feet only to be thrown over the shoulder of none other than the BATMAN is jarring to say the very least. “Hey. Hey!” you interject when you come to, your mouth finally catching up with your brain as your stomach makes contact with his armored shoulder, and the wind is knocked from your lungs.

“Take Charisma back to the cells. I’ll catch up.” he orders the newest Boy Wonder. A man clad in red and green holds Johnny Charisma in a similar fashion to your position, mirroring you.

Robin nods, and sees himself out. “Don’t take too long.” he jests, and if you were paying more attention you would’ve rolled your eyes. Instead, you’re much too busy running your mouth with any kind of noise, kicking your feet, and banging your fists against the Bat’s lower back. With each blow, the cape bounces back to brush your angry hands, and in a brief fascination you clutch onto the foreign material with the intent to rip it. Of course, it doesn’t, and you consider the possibility of tearing into it with your teeth as you would duct tape. To calm your writhing legs, he straps an arm around your thighs, lumbering along with you on his shoulder as if you simply weren’t there. It’s dizzying being all the way up here, the Bat towers over most everyone… it’s that or all the blood that’s rushed to your head. He enters a different room than where Robin went, and momentarily you entertain the fact he seeks to interrogate you. But what could you possibly know that the Bat wants? It was always Joker with the big ideas. Now that he’s gone, you’ve been trying replace him as the Head Guy but it’s just not the same.

So you thrash. You move your body in any way you can think of, anything to loosen his vice-like grasp on you, but he is infallible. Taking you deeper into this abandoned set in Panessa Studios. “Put me down—! Hey! Are you listening to me? I said, put- me- down— Oh!” Your commands are interrupted by your own squeak of surprise as he unceremoniously drops you, landing on your feet with a bounce as your countenance shifts to one of endearing disbelief. You rally, skewing your features to convey indignity. “How dare you?” you scold, but it’s grossly performative. You raise your hand, punctuating your disdain for him with a sharp slap of admonishment to his cheek. It reverberates in this empty room, and his neck has craned from the force. Perhaps out of respect. You’ve seen this freak throw grown men across the room, you’re sure he feels nothing but a sting on his skin. So you give him another one, smacking him to pivot him to the other side.

“Touching a lady like that! You should know better! I’m wearing a skirt! Anyone could’ve seen! What would my men think of their boss if they’ve seen her panties? Huh? Do you have any idea what it takes to be a leader in this economy?” With each passing phrase, your voice heightens shriller, the emotion of the scene getting to you, but he is unaffected. Slowly, he faces you, opening his eyes to meet your vindictive gaze. “You—! You’re the one that killed him, if he were still alive I wouldn’t have to be in this mess—“ your tone cracks at the mention of the Joker, and a desperate sort of need takes you over. You throw yourself onto the statuesque vigilant who remains expressionless as you clutch onto whatever purchase his tight armor possesses, climbing up his chest to his collar.

Your instability is cause for your sudden shift in depression and wrath; one second you’re clinging onto him, shaking him (or more accurately, shaking yourself using him and his immovable body), and the next you’re pinching your features into a frown and weakly banging your fists against his chest for round two. They glance off, and he stares down at you. It takes you an inappropriate amount of time to question how long he’s been letting you do this to him, until he side-steps you. Comically, you fall forward from the loss of balance, the lack of his beam-like support causing you to stumble and clumsily regain your footing to round on him.

“Enough.” he commands, and his recognizably annoyed tone sets your lips into a thin line. “Tell me what you know.” Inviting himself into your space, this dark towering figure stoops to your level, forcing you to arch back as he imposes.

You audibly gulp, scanning his form. He notes that. That scares you. So you attempt to throw him off the trail, taking a step back so you have room to straighten, cross your arms, and stick your nose in the air. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you insist, and wiggle your shoulders, peeking at him through your closed eyes to gauge his reaction. You don’t have time to react before his huge glove has enclosed in the puffy fabric of your sleeve, yanking you back to him. Instinctively, you reach out, bracing against his chest so you won’t trip again. A furtive glance is paid to your hand’s position on his emblem, and when you meet his gaze he’s already looking at yours.

“You’re here for the patients. You think they’ve got the potential to replace him, don’t you?” Just like that, he ruins the moment with his big mouth.

You scowl, lifting yourself on your toes as if that’ll intimidate him. “They are him!”

“He’s dead!” The anger behind his words admits how resentful he is that you won’t deal with the Joker’s death.

“Because of you!”

“Don’t be stupid.” An alarming shift in his tone conveys an uncharacteristic smugness, one that creases your brow in bewilderment because of how likely the phrase sounded like Batman was about to laugh at you. “How long are you going to live in that fantasy?”

“I—” you begin, but a flash catches you off-guard. Untensing, you search his eyes for that flash again. A glint. A glimpse of that familiar viridian. You’ve looked into Batman’s eyes countless times, you know his irises are colored blue. But for one single second, you could’ve sworn you saw a little of J in there. As if you weren’t in control of your own body, you take a step forward. A great sense of relief overcoming you at the sight of green blooming faithfully in Batman’s eyes. “It’s you…” you muse in wonder, your gentle hands coming to cup his rough face, your fingertips grazing the helmet’s smooth material.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you stunned the Bat. But he doesn’t let it last long, growling in offense as he uses your abused top to toss you against a prop wall. You clatter against the hollow wood, meagerly propped up by the 2x4s on the other side. His massive fist nails the surface right by your head, and you’re too in awe to flinch.

“Tell me what I want to know!” The Batman orders, and you know exactly what to tell him. You pounce on him, draping your body all over his armor as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” you exclaim. You had no idea a little taste of Joker blood had infiltrated the Big Bad Bat. Here he is, right in front of you again. Old feelings come flooding back as your lips peck at whatever is in reach, punctuated with audible “muahs.”

He recoils, but your grip only tightens, clinging onto him until he pries you off by his hands on your wrists.

“Oh, baby,” you croon, bending over to show him your cleavage as you wiggle it for him. “Why you gotta make me wait, huh? Didn’t you miss me too?” Your wrists, suspended in mid-air, make your arousal run impossibly deeper. Firmly enclosed in his big hands, restrained, you could jump out of your own skin. You tilt your head at him as he observes you, as unperturbed as ever, and you wonder if he’s fighting off the Joker-persona that takes over. “You know you want it…” you exhale, lusty and provocative. “I know you do. Whether you’re the Bat or the Joke I know you want me.” you test. Your tongue licks at the lipstick on your lips. “Don’t worry,” you whisper, desperate. “I won’t tell anyone.”

This is not the first time he’s been tempted by you, yet he finds it more difficult than the last to refuse you. He allows you to take a step closer. “Fuck it.” he says, and you squeal with delight as he scoops you up, pinning you back to the wall. You slam your lips to his, and he eagerly accepts you. The kind of kiss that’s fucking sloppy. Disgusting. As reserved and formal as he is in kissing you, you’re far too disorderly for that. All tongue, you thrust it out between your lips to shove it into his, enthusiastic in playing with his. Surprisingly, he accepts it but doesn’t match your energy as you tongue-fuck his mouth. You trace it over all the wrong places, giddy in the notion you know what the inside of Batman’s mouth feels like. You line it over his his teeth until you’re sure you could recreate his dental print from memory.

It all happens so fast. One second you’re making out, sucking on his tongue like it’s his cock, the next his utility belt is on the floor and his actual cock is rearranging your insides. He’s a lot bigger than your old boss.

“Fuck, fuck! Right there, right there!” you mewl your praises, wet pussy gratefully slurping up his every inch. It’s unfathomable how long you’ve gone without proper dick, and something about the way he’s bullying his way into you hits the spot. Everything from the angle of fucking you against this wall, to the gruff and animalistic exhales he expels with each thrust has your pretty eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Oh, my fucking God! Who knew you could fuck like this? If I’d’ve known you feel this good I would’ve hopped on your bat-cock years ago.” Mindless, stupid ramblings of a thankful whore, reeling from his thick fingers that leave bruises in the flesh of your thighs. He’s relatively quiet, letting you do the talking, perhaps he already regrets his decision to screw you but it’s too late now. Whatever implication this proves he’s not stopping to examine the morality of it, chasing his high and using your body to do it.

The familiar tremor in your thighs lets you know how close you really are, clawing at his armor. His hand cups your jaw, tucking your chin into the web of his thumb, pinching your cheeks together a bit as he adjusts you to look at him. “You wanna finish?” he asks through the grit in his teeth, and you nod furiously, stifled by his hold.

“Yes. Yes, baby, I wanna finish. I wanna cum.” you whine, seeking to please him.

“Promise to be good?”

A stinging thrill shoots up your spine originating from your sex. You had no idea he was into that kind of stuff, nor implementing it. You go crazy for it. Once again, you nod furiously. Whatever that definition entailed— to be good— you would do it. Anything for him. “I promise, I promise. I promise to be good, I promise.”

You find out later being good entails being thrown into a cell to await policy recovery. Oh, but it was fucking worth it.

[haveihitanerve]

Thought about Bruce calling Jason different variations of 'My __ little boy' (eg. 'My nerdy little boy', 'My mean little boy', 'My lovely little boy') And each time Jason is just like "Dad, it's only a 2 inch difference, I ain't little."

Even better if this isn't him saying it as Brucie, but as Bruce Wayne who just loves his little gremlin of a child even if he is an adult now.

The first time Bruce did it, Jason almost cried. They were at a Wayne Gala, and Bruce was leading him around, because he didn't trust anyone alone with his child want Jason running away, when they met a lovely old lady, a sweetheart, different to most Gotham Elite.

"Well, isn't he just darling." She cooed, and Bruce grew an actual smile, bending to kiss her hand.

"Mrs. Kershaw, a pleasure, as always. You look radiant. Also as always." He winked, and the woman, Mrs. Kershaw, laughed, blushing, as she pushed his shoulder teasingly.

"Och you, always knows just what to say." Jason pulled a face, but he couldn't deny it was nice to meet someone in Gotham at a Wayne event that Bruce actually liked. Mrs. Kershaw turned to Jason, bending so she was at eye level. A surprise, as most people took some sick pleasure in having height over him.

"Hello there dear, what's your name?" Jason offered a polite smile, waiting for the horrible pinching of his cheeks the older ladies seemed to be fond of.

"I'm Jason, ma'am."

"Jason Todd." Bruce added, and Jason shot him a confused look over his shoulder. When people, to be polite or something, asked his name, he always stuck to the first name, so that people didn't know he kept his own last name and wasn't a Wayne. Well, it was hyphenated, but that was a little too much.

But Mrs. Kershaw smiled, hands reaching dreadingly for Jason's cheeks. He tensed, but her hands were warm, and soft, and cradled his cheeks rather than pinched them. Like a mother. "You are such an angel, Jason Todd" She laughed, brushing his hair away from his face with a small smile.

"Putting up with Brucie all this time." Jason laughed, surprised that she was actually funny, and that she had insulted Bruce. To his face. But Bruce was grinning, seemingly pleased she liked him, and pleased he liked her, without even flinching at her Brucie.

"Yep. That's Jay." Bruce's hand landed on his shoulder, tugging him against his leg. Mrs. Kershaw straightened, pulling her hands away as Bruce rubbed his back. "My little angel boy." He laughed and continued conversing with her, but Jason couldn't hear anything. His ears were stuffed with wool, brain focused on those four little words. Those four, perfect words. My little angel boy. His boy. He was- he was Bruce's boy.

"It's always nice to see you Brucie, do stop by soon won't you? And bring your son, he's such a doll." Bruce laughed, drawing Jason back to the present.

"I certainly will," He promised, squeezing Jason's shoulder. "I don't go anywhere without my kiddo." He laughed again, and Jason wrapped his arms around his legs, squeezing tight.

The last time Bruce said it, Jason couldn't hear him. His body hurt, it burned, pain lacing every pore, every single cell. He could feel Bruce's arms around him, Batman suit scraping against his skin painfully, but he couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't do anything, and he didn't want to anyway. He didn't want Bruce to put him down. Not now.

Bruce's head was hung, on his knees, Jason clutched to his chest. Jason could see, faintly, out of the corner of his eyes, the remnants of a burning building. It looked familiar somehow, but the memories were just out of reach.

Bruce's lips were moving, repeating, chanting something, over and over, body shaking with silent sobs as cradled Jason's limp body. "My boy, my darling boy, my boy."

The next time Bruce said it, Jason almost punched him. "Is this him?" The voice was soft, disbelieving, and so, so grievously scratchy and old.

"It is, Mrs. Kershaw." Bruce answered quietly, holding the old woman's hand as he sat on the edge of her bed. "Its Jason. My baby boy." Jason gaped at him, taking a seat next to the bed.

"I'm two inches shorter than you, old man." He grumbled, leaning forward to be in Mrs. Kershaw's eyeline. "Hello ma'am." He greeted quietly. Mrs. Kershaw's eyes crinkled, and she reached one weathered, wrinkled hand for his cheek.

"Oh, oh my darling angel." She whispered, hand tracing the scars on his face. Jason fought the urge to squirm, to escape her condemnation, swallowing hard. Her eyes filled with tears as she cupped his cheek.

"I'm so sorry for all you went through, my Todd." Jason choked on his tears, heart constricting at the old nickname, the soft touch. Her fingers expertly wiped every tear away, smiling softly. Her hands dropped eventually, exhaustion clear in every breath.

"Take it easy, darling." Bruce murmured quietly, pressing a kiss to her hand again as he set it down on the bed. "We'll visit again soon." She smiled, hand reaching up one last time to snag Jason's.

"You done good, angel. Putting up with Brucie. He loves you." Jason smiled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to her hand as well.

"I know ma'am. I know. Sleep well. We'll come visit." She smiled, squeezing his hand before letting go. "You'd better." Jason chuckled, exiting the room to meet Bruce, waiting outside with a smile.

"Hey old man." Bruce swung an arm around his shoulders, knocking their heads together gently. "Hey, my lovely little boy."

uhhhhhh hope you enjoyed??? So sorry for bringing in a random OC it just felt right??? Idk i hope you liked Mrs. Kershaw as much as I did, and hope my story satisfied you, I'm still working through all the asks I've gotten, but my motivation as been like... awful, so i'm trying but make no promises :/ sry for the wait but this one just sparked up some thoughts and i had to write it, hope you liked!

[honeyed-blossom]

Happy Valentines 🌸

I hope everyone has a lovely valentines!! 💌 sending you all my love and a million smooches 😘 please enjoy these two being all gushy and icky hehe

instead of packing for my trip like a sane person, I wrote a little something to go with the drawing if you’d like to read it 🫣

his valentine

Word count: 775

Golden rays danced through the lush foliage carelessly, illuminating the forest with an otherworldly glow. Sunbeams frolicked down the gently beaten path, inviting the boy further in. Even the shadows glided by absentmindedly, as if the world existed without a single care. How she found this place he didn’t know.

Sebastian remembered her calling it a vivarium, describing it as a sanctuary for the beasts she and Poppy rescued over the last year. There were different types of vivariums - one was a languid stretch along a coast, another was a quiet swamp, and she had four of these in total. This one was a vast meadow, scattered with caves and forests, where nifflers, puffeskins, and jabberknolls frocklicked peacefully. It was the embodiment of summer in the highlands, always sunny and temperate. It was her favorite hideaway.

He walked further into the grove, keeping his eyes out for the girl who was somehow able to send his heart into a fit of flutters and drive him insane at the same time. She would be the death of him one day, not that he’d mind.

A soft humming caught his attention, a tune he didn’t recognize. The tune was playful, whimsical even. She was in a good mood it seemed. Sebastian smiled to himself and drifted towards the sounds, careful to hide the large bouquet behind him. He travelled all over the Scottish Highlands to find an assortment of different flowers, the ones he knew she loved. Some, he had to beg Professor Garlick for, though she was more than happy to help once she found out who it was for. Roses, sunflowers, lavender, and jasmine peeked out from layers of jute and ribbons.

Sebastian stopped where the trees ended and the meadow began, hiding in the shadows as he looked for his counterpart. It took less than thirty seconds to spot her - she stood across the way in a creamy cotton dress, letting her mind wander while she watched a pair of jabberknolls glide jovially. She swayed gracefully as she hummed, with her hands clasped behind her back. Basked in sunlight, she looked ethereal. Her usual blush-toned hair now looked like honey, dripping in hues of caramel and gold. He desperately wanted to comb through her locks and leave a trail of kisses, watching as a blush crept up her cheeks.

What are you waiting for, you idiot?

This wasn’t last year, when all he could do was stare longingly at his friend and keep his feelings tightly locked up for fear of rejection. They had now been together for a few months already and Sebastian felt foolish for still being so flustered around her. It was as if any time he was around her, or even thought about her, his brain cells threatened mutiny, combusting into nothingness and leaving him utterly defenseless.

“Valeria!” Sebastian finally called out, stepping out of the shadows and into the blinding light. “There you are.”

Almost immediately, she turned around to face him, her cheeks a soft peachy blush. Her eyes practically sparkled when she saw him and he felt as though he was staring at a nebula of greens, golds, and browns. His breath hitched as a radiant smile spread across her lips.

“Sebastian! There you are,” she chirped and glided towards him. As she got close, she threw her arms around his neck into a hug. Sebastian’s right arm snaked around her waist, squeezing her into him. He watched as her nose crinkled slightly, delighted when she picked up the scents of the flowers.

He grinned and pecked her cheek. “Here, I have a present for you.” He gingerly pulled a flower from the bouquet he was hiding and gently tucked it behind her ear, along with some loose strands of pink tresses. His hand lingered, hesitating to break contact with her. Just as Sebastian started to draw back, Valeria wrapped her long fingers around his hand, pulling it back to rest against her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned against his hand, sighing happily.

Sebastian could wait no longer. He gently cupped her cheek and leaned in, tilting his face slightly as he captured her lips with his. He’d kissed her plenty of times before but this one was different and sent his heart soaring. It was sweet like honeycrisp and warm like sunshine. Before he even knew it, he had melted into her, his arms wrapped around her frame with bouquet still in hand. He shivered as she deepened the kiss, pressing her fingers against his curly locks. Sebastian pulled her right against him, clutching her waist desperately as they kissed. And kissed.

And kissed.

[niceboyeds]

are you free next week? (e.m)

eddie x fem!reader

WC: 2.9K

18+ MDNI

contains: explicit content, 18+ only (minors do not interact), sexual content, dream sequence smut, light dom!eddie, soft/rough dynamic, yearning, suggestive language, swearing, semi-public setting, some delusional levels of pining

a/n: this is what happens when you combine bed chem delusions, eddie munson’s hands, and my last remaining brain cell. hope you enjoy🤍

masterlist

"Robin! please wait up!" you stumble through the crowd of partygoers, desperately trying to keep up with your intoxicated and flight-risk friend.

focused solely on keeping an eye on her whereabouts you lose the ability to pay attention to your surroundings, fully body-slamming the person who moved into the doorway on your way out. your head meets his chest with a noticeably loud thud.

“shit! sorry sweetheart.” his voice is soft but present, two large hands reaching to cradle your face so he can get a good look at you.

“n-no you’re fine. you’re…” you look up and finally notice his face, its gentle. a head of dark, messy curls and soft button eyes. but it’s the smirk on his face that makes a shiver run down your spine. yeah, he was fine. “sorry for running into you…”

“Eddie.” he smiles, releasing you from his hold and allowing you to take a step back from him, fully able to admire the rest of him.

hell, you’d let him take you right there in the middle of the party in front of everyone. he was built to perfection from what you could see, your imagination ran wild thinking about what’s yet to be discovered.

“Eddie.” you repeat, smiling back and holding his gaze. that was until you remembered what made you run into him in the first place. “shit— i gotta, sorry my… Robin!!” you spot her in the front lawn of the house across the street, attempting what you can only guess is a cartwheel but will surely end in a grave injury you had no capacity to deal with.

wrapping your arm around her waist gently you sneak a glance back into the party, locking eyes with your newest infatuation— Eddie.

you lay your drunken friend into your couch once you arrive back at home, the stench of party still lingering in your nose. you help set up Robin with a makeshift bed and wander down to the restroom, your body aching to be consumed by hot water in a proper shower.

but still, you find yourself surrounded by thoughts of Eddie. the way his soft smirk lit up his eyes, his strong hands holding onto you.

you blame the tequila. and those fucking dreamy brown eyes. and the way he said sweetheart like he’d known you forever.

you don’t remember falling asleep, just the sensation of warm water hitting your skin and the heavy ache of tired limbs sinking into bedsheets.

somehow you’re still at the party. the same dim lighting, same brass thudding in the background—but everything’s slower. softer. there’s a golden haze hanging in the air, like you’re walking through a memory dipped in honey.

you turn around and he’s already there. leaning against the wall like he’s been waiting for you all night. curls wild, eyes dark and fixed only on you. he doesn’t say anything at first, just offers a hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“thought you’d never show,” he says, and god, that voice— low, teasing, familiar like a song you didn’t realize you knew by heart.

you don’t speak, just let him pull you closer. his hands land on your waist like he owns the space, like he’s meant to be there. you press your palm to his chest, feel the steady thrum of his heart beneath your fingers. everything else melts away.

his lips ghost over yours skin, sending a spark straight down your spine. you think about pulling away, surely this is impractical. but it doesn’t matter— your body’s already answering for you, tilting into him like a magnet.

his mouth finds yours like he already knows what you taste like— deep and warm, yet careful. but then his hands are everywhere. calloused palms dragging over your skin, down your waist, gripping your thighs like he’s been waiting to touch you forever.

he pulls you down the hallway, opening a bedroom and cautiously locking it while still fully attacking your face. somewhere between the kiss and the gasp you don’t remember giving, your clothes are gone, all but the lace panties you’re soaking though this very moment. you stand there in front of him as he takes one painfully slow look up and down your frame.

he lifts you up without hesitation, flipping you over and pushing you into the mattress on your hands and knees. your lace panties are halfway down before you can blink— yanked off you with the desperation of a starved man— but you can’t help but giggle when he gets caught up removing them at the ankle.

“i don’t think you’ll be laughing when we’re finished here, babydoll.” you can hear him smirk from behind you, hearing a zip from his pants and a small clink from his belt dropping onto the carpeted floor.

you go to say something snarky back, but your back arches before you can answer. your mouth opens but nothing comes out— just a sound, half a moan, half his name. your body betraying you as you groan loudly while he slams his thick cock into your soaked pussy.

“holy shit!” you finally scream, pushing back to meet his heavy thrusts, filling you completely. his large hands grasp your shoulders, raising you from the mattress so your back is flush against his bare chest.

“there you go— take it. take it like a good girl.” he whispers in your ear, his lips suckling down your neck. his ringed fingers find their way to your breasts, toying with your nipples before slinking down to your needy clit.

he rubs his fingers purposefully, like he knows your body better than you know it yourself. “you gonna cum for me, baby? huh? you gonna cum around my fucking cock? god look at you, fucking beautiful and a complete mess around my dick.”

his fingers move faster as you feel him twitch inside of you, "c'mon sweetheart, cum with me."

you're right at your breaking point, both of your movements becoming sloppy and you cry out, "fuck yes! don't stop— yes, yes, yes..."

a loud thud causes you to sit up, a sweaty mess in your bed— alone. embarrassed and equally frustrated you crawl out of bed and investigate the noisy intrusion.

"Jesus Christ Robin! you scared the shit out of me!" you whisper, pushing her playfully. she stood in the doorway, half asleep and still drunk from the nights' events.

"sorry! i rolled off the couch and forgot where i was." the two of you giggle before you just drag her into your room and crawl into bed together.

"can i tell you something— no judgment..." you whisper into the dark room.

"of course, spill it!"

"i had a dream about that guy from the party... Eddie." you feel your face flush, but a smile creeps onto your face despite the fear of embarrassment.

"wait like Eddie, Eddie?? Eddie Munson??!" she squealed, turning over in the bed to face you, you know she's grinning ear to ear without even seeing her.

"ugh yes! i don't know what it was, but the way he looked at me and the way he touched me— Rob i... i think he and i would have really good bed chem..."

days came and went, but you'd still randomly find yourself thinking about Eddie. and like those days— today was no different. slouched over the counter at Family Video, head resting in one of your hands as you flip through the magazine you hoped would distract you.

maybe it was the way his eyes lit up when he smiled, or the way his ringed fingers held your face, or the way his voice sounded when he called you sweetheart. something about him weaseled its way into your brain and you were completely infatuated with him.

"welcome to Family Video." you mumbled when the bell on the door chimed, alerting you to a customers presence.

"hey sweetheart." the new yet familiar voice rang in your ears, waking you from your daydream.

"h-hey! how are you?" standing up straight and admiring the smile fixed on his face.

"good, good. just returning these.. a couple days late, I'm sorry." his hands pushed the movie rentals towards you, his hands still wearing those damn rings you had thought about so many times. how you wanted them to hold yours, how you pictured them around your neck and—

"y-yeah, of course." you cleared your throat, trying to appear less distracted by him simply existing. "and don't worry about the late fees this time, i never return mine on time and i work here."

he chuckles at your words, a larger smile forming on his lips and what appears to be a slight rosy color creeping onto his cheeks. "thanks, i appreciate it. and maybe i'll uh.. see you around more often?"

"yeah, maybe." you don't even need to guess, you know your face is as red as a tomato. he turns to leave the store and you wonder if you should say anything more.

the bell on the door chimes once again and you find yourself with a sudden burst of confidence. a voice in your head urges you on, say something. do something.

you follow him out, opening the door, repeating to yourself "don't be a coward."

"hey Eddie?" he spins around, it feels like a movie— slow motion as he takes a couple steps back towards you. "are you free next week?"

[angelthefandomobsessed]

Between Teeth, Between Claws, Between Them - Chapter 5 - Leona Kingscholar x Reader x Ruggie Bucchie

Bed sharing? In my Leona Kingscholar fanfiction? It's more likely than you'd think.

As usual, this series is a bit on the mature side (never explicit), so be aware of that.

You can read the first chapter here and then follow the chain back to here (or go to AO3 and navigate it there). Either way, I hope you enjoy!

(Link to AO3: Between Teeth, Between Claws, Between Them - Angel_Ashido - Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own])

༺═────────────═༻

You adored Ace, Deuce and Grim. Really, you did. But sometimes they were dumber than a ton of bricks. 

You didn’t have the luxury of being a moron. That meant that cleaning up their messes was an honour reserved for - wait for it - you. 

As this information swarmed at the forefront of your mind, you let out a long suffering sigh. Being the sole brain cell of the group was a full time job that you didn’t recall applying for.

“I said I was sorry!” Grim yowled, tugging at the anemone that had sprouted from his head. “I never woulda cheated if I knew the Octa-vanilla guys were up ta somethin’!”

The anemones were gross, but they weren’t exactly well hidden. You had come to expect inaction from Crowley, but the lack of intervention from the rest of the faculty was disheartening, to say the least.

At Crowley’s behest, you had charged into Octavinelle to try and free your friends… That hadn’t gone particularly well.

You had signed up to commit what you were pretty sure was a crime, you had no idea how you were going to get away with said crime, and you were now homeless.

That was how you had ended up in the present situation - standing in the Savanaclaw lounge like a roast pig on a platter.

“Well, well, well. Look what the puppy dragged in!” Ruggie called out from his spot on one of the sofas.

Jack’s natural scowl deepened, but he held his tongue.

The last time you had seen Ruggie on a sofa was… a much better set of circumstances, to put it lightly.

“I need somewhere to stay,” you announced through gritted teeth. “My dorm’s been put up as collateral. Do you have any spare rooms?”

From the walkway above the dorm’s waterfall, a deep, mirthful laughter began to rain down.

“Seriously? One minute, you’re ruining our dorm’s ambitions, and the next you’re running away from that cephalo-punk with your tail between your legs?”

Leona was looking down on you, eyes bright. While you had come a long way since trodding on his tail in the greenhouse, nothing could change the fact that you had ruined his scheme and sparked his overblot.

“You have some serious nerve, showing up on our doorstep like this!” one of the Savanaclaw students cried.

Grim’s fur bristled at that. He stepped in front of you, as though he could protect you from an onslaught of Savanaclaw grunts. It was cute, but not nearly enough to let him off the hook.

“We oughta teach ‘em a lesson!”

“Yeah, Housewarden, let us rough ‘em up a bit!”

“Imbeciles, the lot of you…” Leona growled. “We have ourselves an honoured guest here.” 

You almost sighed in relief.

“Ruggie,” the lion called.

“Yes, Housewarden?”

“Bring the herbivore up here”

“Sure thing, Housewarden!” Ruggie chirped.

In the blink of an eye, Ruggie had appeared by your side. “C’mon, let’s take a little walk.”

Grim bounced forward, grabbing at the hem of Ruggie’s jeans. “Hey! You can’t just steal my hench-human like that!”

“You better not try anything underhanded,” Jack warned with a flash of his teeth.

“Or what, frosh? Are you going to turn into an oversized poodle again? I’m quaking in my sandals, truly,” Leona drawled. “Have a little faith in your senior.”

Ruggie guffawed at that and shook Grim off, rather gently, you noticed. “Relax, we’re not animals here. Leona just wants to have a nice chat with this here prefect.”

The strangest thing about Ruggie was that he was half sweetheart, half Team Rocket grunt. It was due to that sweet half of him that you went without protest, trusting that he wasn’t about to throw you from a balcony.

As you ascended the steps, you found yourself being ushered towards Leona, who somehow managed to make low lighting work for him. Ruggie stayed close on your heels as you drew closer to Leona. You were suddenly struck with the feeling of being trapped between them, just as you had been in the dining hall.

This time, however, there was a swarm of eyes on you, watching your every move. You had to be careful - a misstep could ruin everything.

Not because the rest of the school would discover your relationship status, which was the embodiment of ‘it’s complicated’. No, it would be perilous because Azul would discover the ace hidden up your sleeve.

Leona Kingscholar. 

In your bones, you knew that he would rather turn Azul Ashengrotto to sand than let you live in his debt. You just needed to ensure that he came into play at the right time, and in the right way…

You trusted that your persuasive skills would help everything fall into place. If you were thinking of anybody else in such a way, you might have felt bad. But your bones also sang that Leona would praise you for such a mindset.

He really was a bad influence.

“Are you scared?” he asked you.

You shook your head.

“Are you ashamed?”

“Why would I be?”

“Most people would be, in your shoes.” 

Leona grinned, seeming to anticipate your answer before it left your lips.

“I’m not most people.”

“I can believe that. Alright then, here’s how it is. I’ll let you crash here if you beg me.”

Ruggie was by your ear, slinging a hand over your shoulder before you could process what was happening.

“That’s a bold demand, Leona,” he purred. “Careful, or you’ll scare the cute little kitty away.”

And there was the Team Rocket grunt behaviour. What an odd person you had fallen for.

You blinked. Fallen for? That’s… Yeah, that’s not a problem for right now.

“I won’t be begging, Leona. Sorry to disappoint you.”

Leona tilted his head to the side. “Oh? Why not? You a big fan of camping or something?”

“I don’t know how it is here,” you began. “But where I’m from, those who thrive on the savanna are those who take what they want. So I won’t be leaving. If you don’t have any rooms to spare, that’s fine. Grim and I can sleep out here.”

“Whatever,” he grumbled, tail flicking. “Do what you want.”

The sudden shut-down didn’t bode particularly well for you. But there was something in the flick of his tail that seemed to say, “I’m interested”. Ruggie shifted his weight, giving you the sense that he had picked up on it too.

“Uh oh, looks like you’ve gone and put him in a bad mood…” Ruggie whispered.

“It’s not my fault if his highness needs an ego boost to do a nice thing,’ you whispered back, keeping an eye on the prince.

“I can hear the both of you,” Leona growled, tail swishing again.

Ruggie smirked and whispered, “Don’t worry, I would never let you sleep out in the cold. You can bunk with me. It’ll be a tight squeeze, though…”

“Thanks for looking out for me, Ruggie…” You sent Leona a purposeful glare. “Unlike some people.”

Leona sighed and swept his hand through his hair. “Alright, alright, fine, you can sleep in my room. Long as you don’t bother me too much.”

“Aww, and here I was, planning on cozying up to my sweet little kitten!”

From the gathered onlookers, you heard Jack tell Grim, “I have no idea what they’re doing up there. Everyone at this school is too weird for me to understand.”

You shared a smile with Ruggie and leaned over the rope railing. “Grim, grab our stuff and follow me,” you yelled down.

Jack seemed confused by this turn of events, but relieved that things had worked out in your favour. Grim, on the other hand, seemed displeased that he had to do the manual labour.

Ruggie escorted you to Leona’s room and bid you goodnight. Leona was nowhere to be seen.

Grim had walked in, thrown himself on the bed, and fallen fast asleep. Before Leona could come back and realise that the furball had invaded his haven in such a manner, you picked him up and set him on the sofa.

You sat on the edge of the remaining sofa space, staring at your hands. This was uncharted territory for you. What were you supposed to do?

By the time it was lights out, you had thoroughly entrenched yourself in Leona’s domain. Nothing in his room came as a surprise to you; it was Leona through and through, even down to the touches that were so blatantly Ruggie’s.

Perhaps over time, you could leave your own touches on the room.

That’s a bit presumptuous, of course. This is a temporary arrangement.

“You look like you’ve been backed into a corner.”

Fright jolted through your body as you realised that Leona had, at some point, slinked into the room.

“Weird. You usually seem calm and collected, but that’s the second time I’ve scared the wits out of you,” he observed.

He didn’t bother voicing the obvious question behind his words.

Why do you freak out like that?

The answer was, somehow, both obvious and elusive. He was all claws and teeth and muscle; it’s natural to fear that which could crush you. And yet you wanted more than anything for him to crush you between those claws, and teeth, and muscles.

That wasn’t something that you could tell him, so you shrugged.

“Maybe you’ll find out the third time it happens,” you offered.

He stood in the open space of his room, watching you.

Waiting for you, you realised.

“Do you… need something?”

“No,” he said, sounding as though the word ‘no’ was offensive to him.

“Okay.” And then, after another stretch of awkwardness, you asked, “Do you want something?”

You felt a pang of sympathy for Ruggie; you often engaged in this sort of back and forth with him, and you were just now realising how unnerving it was to be in the dark.

“Only if you want it, too.”

Heat rose to your face. What were you supposed to say to that?

“Um…” You laced your fingers together. “I… don’t know?”

Leona’s eyes narrowed and his hand found its way to his hip. “Just say what you want, even if it’s just for me to leave you alone.”

What did you want? Grim was snoring, meaning it was just you and Leona, alone in his bedroom…

I can’t afford to blunder this - I can’t die with regrets.

Steeling your nerves, you finally managed to blurt out your demand.

“Can I sleep in your bed? It’s been a long, stressful day, and I just want to be held. Please?”

You expected him to scoff, or laugh, or make fun of you. Instead, his expression softened.

“Fine. All you had to do was ask.”

Sinking into Leona’s bed was pure bliss. At Ramshackle, your mattress was more springs than anything else, meaning you were constantly trying to work out knots in your back and shoulders.

Leona watched you with a glint of amusement in his eye. “You look satisfied.”

“I haven’t been this comfortable in… forever,” you admitted.

The light clicked off, and he climbed in, making the cloud that was his bed jiggle. You stared into the darkness, waiting for your eyes to adjust. Before that could happen, you were engulfed in Leona’s warmth.

You sank into his broad chest with ease, allowing his arms to encircle you.

When you spoke, it was muffled against his body. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

“I was always going to let you stay.” Leona yawned before adding, “Had to keep up appearances.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Didn’t want to… miss out on… this…”

Leona drifted off as he spoke, leaving the sentiment to blossom within your heart. His chin was atop your head, and his tail had wrapped itself around one of your calves. There was no way for you to weasel yourself out of his grasp, but you didn’t want to.

You waited for several minutes, focusing on the steady crest and fall of his breathing.

“Never let me go,” you murmured into his chest, hoping that, somehow, it would sow seeds within his prideful heart.

The space between Leona’s arms was your new favourite place.

[eclipseberrycake]

Two for One Special

AN: GUYS YOUR BRAINS ARE SO WRINKLED IM KISSING THEM ALL

This was also a request! So thank you Anon! I was doing some research (By the way, huge huge shoutout to @snowysyndrome and @sammylkcho both of y'all RND things had me just shaking in my seat bro) and yeah, y'all are starved.

I know my sister, who got me into the game, explained that shippers treat them like two different people so I'm assuming with both of them it's more like a poly! ship than anything else. Either way I'm excited to toy with this dynamic!

☁ Man introductions are so hard for me and idk whyy

☁ Like most times i just start writing and oops a plot pops out but i need an intro to get there and I just...never have one gnogng

☁ I think RnD would like either a healer toon or a extractor toon. Since they can distract on certain floors, they know the dangers of distracting and wouldn't wish that on their partner.

☁ Razzle and Dazzle both have very different love languages as well.

☁ I saw it mentioned that Razzle is a very affectionate toon, and yk what? I agree...to an extent. Here's my twist, lol, on them.

☁ I think Razzle is very open with his affections, announcing them for all the toons to see and hear. He's beaming with pride as he presents them with boxes of chocolates or maybe a bandage he bought when he noticed you didn't have enough tapes. He's shouting praises as he passes behind you, the twisteds on his tail even if you couldn't tell based on his giant grin.

☁ Razzle is a very "Words of affirmation" kind of toon, because it's something that he can do so everyone knows just how much he worships you! You are his spotlight, his main star. He just wants to treat you as wonderfully as you treat him and his brother. Is that so much to ask?

☁ SPEAKING of his brother, Dazzle. Oh Dazzle.

☁ I think he's just as affectionate as his brother personally! Being connected to someone who's as affectionate as Razzle kind of eases him into the whole thing and by the time you get together, he's well-versed in what kind of affection works for him and how he wishes to show affection.

☁ He's a huge physical touch person, imo, and an acts of service partner! When your in the elevator, it does not matter what Dazzle wants as it's his turn with the legs and he needs to be by you. Not that Dazzle is complaining of course.

☁ He's constantly by your side when he's not off distracting. You do machines together because having more eyes on the look out than not is crucial to him, plus when it's his turn with the brain cell, he's a fast extractor so you don't need to be in the line of fire more often than not.

☁ He has a good eye too, so if there's a valve or jumper cable on the floor like, half way across the map, he probably spotted the smallest bit of it, immediately redirecting himself, his brother and by extension you to go get it. It's immediately handed to you nonetheless, and he won't take no as an answer, literally going out of his way to pick up gumballs to fill up his inventory space, much to Dazzle's chagrin.

☁ But, Dazzle does need a little extra fawning over. He gets insecure in himself really and doubts whatever he thinks you see in him. Between you and his brother though, it never lasts long and he's always smiling your way soon after, trailing after you like a lost puppy.

☁ Both are absolute buffoons in love by the way. They literally trip over each other when seeing you pass by.

☁ The spend hours gushing with each other over a thing you said or did, despite the fact the other was right there.

☁ They don't get jealous either, unless it's from each other. Not in the toxic, weird way either. Like if you press a kiss to Razzle's cheeks because they swooped in and saved you from a twisted, Dazzle is immediately whining softly for one of his own, despite the giggles in the elevator.

☁ If you come up on Dazzle's side to hold his hand while walking to the other machine, Razzle is complaining loudly about the unfairness and is demanding dibs the next floor their distracting on.

☁ But my favorite thing about these two is they canonically don't fight and prefer to hear each other out. So needless to say, communication is huge with these two. They listen and they don't judge.

☁ And as Rodger points out, they have two contrasting opinions. So if you ever find yourself in a tizzy with another toon, these two are easy to talk to and offer several perspectives on the problem while helping you discuss how you yourself is feeling.

☁ One of their favorite things to do is to wrap themselves around your back and have their chins on each of your shoulder. So Dazzle on one side and Razzle on the other, keeping you trapped as they press a flurry of kisses to your cheeks, shoulders, temples, literally anywhere they can reach.

☁ Y'all gonna turn me into an RND simp with this damn, wish that was me.

☁ OH HEY- They are SUCH fun uncles by the way. I feel it in my bones. They don't have a canonical interaction with Toodles, but like, c'mon. They're so good with her, I KNOW it.

☁ Razzle is obviously the fun, exciting Uncle, using Toodles to tease you knowing you could never stay made at them. He'll pick her up and hang her over you so Toodles can toy with your cheeks and hair, pulling her up out of your reach when you try to retaliate.

☁ Dazzle is the calmer, rock of an uncle. The one Toodles goes too when she needs someone to talk to that isn't Rodger, or when the tension of her extended family gets to be too much.

☁ I imagine Dazzle is happiest when he's got you, his brother, and Toodles all nearby.

☁ I'm not saying imagine sitting on the couch, with Dazzle reading a story as Toodles falls asleep in his lap, you on Razzle's side as you play some game like cat's cradle or something, but I'm also not...not saying that.

☁ Seeing their twisted is...an experience for them.

☁ Lol you thought I'd forget about that bad boy? Not a chance.

☁ Every time they hear the rattles of it being awoken, a part of them positively shrivels at the aspect it could've been you caught, only to realize it was Sprout doing it for the Agro-tapes. Sprout's good about making sure everyone nearby knows he's doing it and keeping watch until the Twisted returns to it's slumber, so they know if nothing else, you're safe.

☁ But still, the aspect of you getting caught by it makes them uneasy, especially if they're distracting and can't get to you without risking everyone else.

☁ It's happened once before.

☁ There was a machine in the ring of vines, right near the twisted, and you had assured Brightney you could get it so that way in case Razzle and Dazzle distracted near there, she wouldn't be caught without a way to run out.

☁ That however left you in the line of fire instead, proven when Teagan, having been spotted by a twisted accidentally ran in the part of the circle hidden by a wall, waking up the twisted.

☁ It snapped too quick for you to react, catching your leg and tripping you just on the boundary of their reach.

☁ Even from across the map, Razzle and Dazzle could hear your cry of pain, immediately turning tail from where they were distracting a twisted clone of Poppy. Tisha was right there to pick up where he left off, quickly shouting at him to go and that Ginger was somewhere on that side too and could help.

☁ He shouted a thanks before taking off, immediately finding Ginger on the way. She had heard you too, ready to offer her assistance in anyway she could.

☁ They found you scrambling to get out of the boundary, Razzle and Dazzle quickly pulling you against them as their twisted form snarled, yanking against the weight holding them down. The image terrified them at the thought that any version of them could even think about hurting you.

☁ Between them, they shakily allowed Ginger to heal you, thanking her profusely before walking you back to elevator. Connie would take over the machine and that would be that.

☁ The run was ended soon after that, Razzle and Dazzle both taking you to Sprout And Cosmo as well to confirm you were alright. Both gave you a clean bill of health, along with Ginger doing so as well, finally easing their poor hearts.

☁ After that they would both need lots of love and extra affection that night to assure them that you are truly okay.

☁ But as I said previously for Razzle, both just want to make you as happy as you've made them.

[samuelsdean]

I Don't Mind If It's You

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: maybe styling spencer’s hair should be an everyday thing for both of you.

genre: fluff

word count: 1081

author's notes: i missed spencer's long hair so i decided to write a self-indulging fic about playing with his hair.

SPENCER HAS ALWAYS FOREGONE STYLING HIS HAIR IN THE MORNINGS. He always thought as long as he could just flick the strands of hair behind his ear, he was good to go. And besides, he had a hair tie with him. He could just simply tie it back—no more pesky hair in his line of sight.

He has always foregone styling his hair in the mornings until he met you. While he was big on practicality & “Hairstyling is a waste of time”!” You were the exact opposite. 

It’s quite a funny thing to think about. Spencer, a certified germaphobe, was uncaring about how his hair looked, whether it was kept well today or it looked like a bird’s nest the next. And then, there’s you. You’re not a germaphobe though you pride yourself as a chic woman. Not a law enforcement job could stop you from looking like you came straight out of a magazine.

You always found the time to make sure your hair looked pretty and presentable before heading to work. In your free time—quite rare for FBI agents—you liked to read magazines for trendy new styles to try or watch videos online for tutorials.

And today was definitely your lucky day. No case. Everyone is off for the holidays.

Unfortunately, that’s where your luck ended.

You got injured during your last case. Your arm is in a cast, unable to move it around like you wanted it to. Fortunately, your hand was still good & thankfully, uninjured, unlike the rest of your arm. So, although you were free to lounge around your home, you couldn’t try that one hairstyle you found in one of those Cosmopolitan articles.

Until a genius idea came to you like a light bulb turning on.

“Hey, Spence?”

You asked your boyfriend, who was busy skimming through what seemed like his third or fourth book of the day.

He’s so cute when he’s all focused like this, you thought. 

He hummed in response, still couldn’t tear his eyes away from the pages.

“I have a favor to ask you.”

This made Spencer look up from what he was reading, staring at you questioningly. You were the type of person who never asked for help or favors—unless needed. You often disagreed with him because he would prefer it if you told him whatever problem you had. Although he was a genius and could help with you, he knew lending an ear to someone was already a big help. 

"You know I can't move my arm around, right?" You asked him, to which he nodded in agreement. 

"Yeah, is it itchy?” He asked, about to go off on one of his notable tangents. “It takes around six to eight weeks for broken bones in casts to heal. Also, around that time, the injured area starts to itch.”

You nodded fondly at the man, not minding a little bit that he went off-topic. You love listening to his mini-lectures—not only do you learn something new, but you’d also hear the soft tone of his voice. One thing about Spencer is he had a pretty voice. You could listen to him talk for hours.

“There are five main reasons why your casts itch—nerves, trapped moisture, immune response, dead skin cells, and body hair.” Spencer continued tattling. “Nerves cause itchiness because the nerve endings in the skin may fire as the cast begins to harden and dry, sending itch-inducing signals to the brain. As for the itchiness being an immune response, it ensues when the body perceives the plaster of Paris or fiberglass as an outside invader. Histamines may be released. Itching, redness, and swelling can be brought on by released histamine.” 

With his excitement to share facts about how broken bones heal, you couldn’t help but laugh at how dorky but adorable your boyfriend was, which made him scrunch his nose.

“I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“You are, but I don’t mind. I like it.”

At this, Spencer’s ears started turning pink, making you chuckle some more. He scratched the back of his neck in shyness as you took it as a clue to tell him what you needed from him.

“My arm isn’t itchy, babe,” you began, “What I need from you is your hair.”

“My what?” 

“Your hair.” 

It was your turn to get shy. You knew Spencer wasn’t a big fan of having his hair messed with. It’s not that he hates it. He just doesn’t like messing with it that much—minus the occasional flicking behind his ear and simply tying it back when it gets irritating.

“I—um,” you explained further, trying to fight against the embarrassment you were feeling. This was your boyfriend you’re talking to!  “I saw this cute new hairstyle online and I wanted to try it but you know, with the broken arm and all…” You trailed off.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” You chuckled humorlessly, beyond embarrassed at this point.

This was such a bad idea. Why did you even bring it up? You were about to start berating yourself, ready to hop onto the next train and create a new identity for yourself, when you noticed Spencer shuffling towards you, sitting on the floor between your legs.

“You want me to style your hair?” You asked incredulously, still can’t believe Spencer would let you play with his hair.

“Of course.” He replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world 

Like it was an everyday thing for anyone—you—to do his hair.

“I don’t mind my hair being played with if it’s you.”

At that, you blushed as you started combing through his soft curls with your fingers. Spencer merely smiled softly at the gesture and closed his eyes.

“Y/N?” Spencer asked quietly.

“Yeah?” You asked back as you started braiding his hair. “What is it, Spence?”

“I love you.” He muttered. “I may not like it when people touch my hair out of nowhere. But if it’s you, I don’t mind having you do it for the rest of my life.”

You gasped at his sudden confession and were about to say those three words back when you felt it.

Spencer planted a kiss on your injured arm and pulled your other one down, so he could be face-to-face with you. And before you knew it, his lips brushed against yours, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks.

Maybe styling Spencer’s hair should be an everyday thing for both of you.

[marclef]

a special gift for you guys, for this very important Fake Peppino Friday.... after a week of near-continuous work, i present to you the biggest mess i've posted so far to tumblr:

The Fake Peppino Headcanon/Biology/Anatomy/Whatever the heck this is Post

really just a bunch of headcanons, ideas, and other stuff i've complied together for Fake Peppino, illustrated to the best of my ability. i hope you enjoy! ✨✨✨

(caution: lots of text and assorted Frogs up ahead)

now.... who's ready for walls of text and drawings?

Fake Peppino is a homunculus, made in the shape of Peppino by Pizzahead. He's much taller than the real Peppino, 8 feet tall compared to Peppino's 5 1/2 feet. He was created using the DNA from Peppino (either skin or hair cells), old pizza, and frogs (think Jurassic Park). His entire body, including the hat and "clothes", is comprised of a strange goop, with no flesh organs or bones, though certain areas are made out of specialized goo, meant for an intended purpose.

He can stretch his body to inhuman lengths, though he usually only does this with his legs, mouth, tongue, and arms. His goopy body is extremely strong, able to withstand tearing and most puncture wounds. Attacks from knives or similar weapons are pointless, as it doesn't really harm him, and will likely just lead to him absorbing the knife into himself and retaliating. However, repeated attacks, especially physical blows, can tire him out, and explosives can harm him, splitting his body into pieces if particularly strong. This doesn't kill him, though, since he can reform his body.

If threatened, or trying to get into a tight spot, Fake Peppino can deform his body into a blob-like mass, allowing him to flee, squeeze into small areas, or melt into the floors/walls. He usually keeps his eyes and brain intact, to see his surroundings and act accordingly. The rest of his body, despite deforming and becoming mushy, can still function, meaning he could still eat in this form if he wanted to. He finds tights spaces comfortable, and can often be found squeezed into unlikely places, such as small containers, trash cans, and cabinets.

If greatly threatened, though, or sufficiently angered, Fake Peppino can pool all of the energy into his body into growing larger, by rapidly burning energy into making more goop/cells. This is very tiring, generally only used as a last resort. The process generally makes his head and body much larger, with his limbs, as well as eyes/brain, staying mostly the same size. He is dumber in this state, with all energy and thought going into eliminating the target, something that Fake Peppino doesn't like. He avoids lashing out like this unless he absolutely needs to.

Despite his frog DNA, Fake Peppino doesn't do well with water or other similar liquids. Thanks to his sturdy stomach walls, he can drink most liquids just fine, even fluids that would be dangerous to humans. It's his outside "skin" that's the problem, since it can't absorb liquid properly. Prolonged contact with water or other liquid will quickly cause him to deform, unable to keep his humanoid form, until he's sufficiently dried off/absorbed the liquid properly. He greatly dislikes being wet because of this, and will go to great lengths to avoid it. Warmer liquids are slightly more tolerable, being much more comfortable, so warm, bubbly baths are welcome.

The brain and eyes are connected directly, with the brain protected by Fake's squishy head, and the eyes popping out the widened eye sockets. The brain is made of very specialized goop, and works very similarly to a human brain, sending signals to all parts of Fake Peppino's body.

However, despite it being the central control center of his body, smaller bits of brain cell goop are distributed through the rest of his body, allowing him to control other parts separately. So, even if parts of him are detached or otherwise removed, he can still control them, for a time. After some time, these parts die off though, losing control and deforming into inert goop. He mainly uses this ability to split "clones" off of himself, controlling them to attack perceived threats.

Being made of goop, Fake's brain can withstand damage a normal brain can't, but he still prefers to keep it protected underneath his head. It dries out a bit in the open, too, which he finds uncomfortable.

Fake Peppino's eyes are very strong. Though he's often seen with a cross-eyed look to him, he's constantly watching his surroundings, even if it doesn't seem it. He has excellent night vision, often using this ability to easily stalk and sneak up on prey in the dark without being spotted.

He doesn't need to blink, but he still closes his eyes to sleep, when he's very happy, or during certain actions, such as swallowing. His eyes are one of the most vulnerable parts of his body, though, and attacking them would be a way to easily disorient him.

Fake Peppino's sense of smell is also impressive, being able to smell things long before he sees them. He uses this ability to easily find food, prey, or simply something he wants. The mustache under his nose (which, same as his "hair", is also made of goop) is sensitive, and he doesn't like others touching it.

Fake Peppino often sniffs things he's interested in, including strangers, to try to get a sense for them. He never forgets a particular smell, which makes it easy to tell if a familiar person is nearby. He often sniffs others while holding them or being given attention, likely as a form of interaction. Plus, he just thinks most others smell nice.

Despite, like the rest of him, being made of goop, Fake Peppino's teeth can harden to be extremely tough. They soften if he needs them to, such as when he deforms. His bite force is very, very strong, comparable to a hippo's bite. He doesn't chew his food too often, though, and only really chews up food he finds particularly tasty, such as pizza. His frog-like instinct usually compels him to swallow most foods whole. His teeth are more often used to grip things, such as prey items, or to carry things around. He enjoys carrying things he likes around, and will carry smaller friends around gently with his mouth.

The stretchiest part of Fake Peppino's body is his tongue, which can stretch to several times his body length. It is very sticky, coated with a clear, saliva-like goop that fills the inside of his mouth as well. Like a frog, he uses it to grab onto and eat food from afar, or to grab items he doesn't feel like using his arms to. It's very strong, and can drag even very heavy objects. The tongue's extreme flexibility allows him to reach it nearly anywhere, even down his own throat if he really wanted.

Usually, Fake Peppino uses his tongue to snatch fleeing prey items, and he can wrap it around their body to make them easier to eat. He often leaves his tongue dangling slightly out of his mouth, due to its length, but also making it easy to strike with if needed.

Fake Peppino's "stomach" is a very special case. It functions like both an organic stomach, and similarly to a lung as well, constantly moving by pushing air in and out of himself. He can use this to inflate his body, making himself bigger for intimidation (like some frogs do), or to shrink himself down by releasing all air from himself; this is generally used if a prey item is being uncooperative, to cause them to suffocate. To help keep live prey in place as well, he's able to close off his throat with a mass of goop, preventing escape.

The constant movement of the stomach makes digesting meals easier, allowing them to be coated by a specialized goop that absorbs and dissolves what it covers, like stomach acids. Fake Peppino's stomach can digest almost everything, aside from very tough materials, such as most metals, very solid plastics, tough minerals (like rocks), and bones. Anything he can't digest, he simply spits up eventually, generally in a place it can be disposed of, such as the trash.

His stomach is very sturdy and stretchy, able to withstand almost anything, and can stretch as much as needed to fit what's inside. As such, there's not much of a limit to how much Fake Peppino can eat. Eating too much makes him sluggish, though, as his body tries to process it all. Fake Peppino is most content with a reasonably-full stomach, and is generally quite calm and relaxed after a large meal. Belly rubs at this point are greatly appreciated.

If needed to, he can reach his arms back into his own throat, to grab something from inside of his stomach. He doesn't do it often, due to most things he eats being digestible, making carrying stuff around in there fairly pointless. This is only ever really the case if it's something too difficult to spit up, or something that wasn't supposed to be eaten in the first place.

There is no further digestive system, however; all food eaten is 100% absorbed in the stomach. Everything he eats is converted into more goop like him, leaving no trace behind, unless it is undigestible. Bones from eaten prey such as rats get thrown out, or disposed of in an appropriate spot.

and... though I didn't get to drawing them, here's a couple extra unsorted headcanons/dumb little tidbits I just felt like sharing!

He makes lots of strange sounds, communicating more through groans and frog-like croaks than trying to speak. He CAN talk, but not well, mostly in broken, short sentences, and usually speaks "backwards". He can understand others just fine, though he struggles with especially long and complicated words. The sounds he makes when not talking are generally unintelligable, but his mood and tone can indicate how he feels. He uses the ability to inflate his body to produce very loud, aggressive sounds when trying to ward off threats.

His gooey body is what allows him to cling to walls and ceilings with ease. He sticks to walls while trying to stalk prey, or just to play around with friends. Though, in some cases, he'll cling against the walls or ceiling if frightened, finding them a safe vantage point. If you're in the dark and feel something creeping its way towards you, it's likely Fake Peppino, silently stalking you from the walls.

Despite his inhuman traits, Fake Peppino generally doesn't like the idea of eating humans. He still sees himself as somewhat human from his time spent believing he was the real Peppino. Attacking or eating things he doesn't see as prey is kept as a last resort, or if he's extremely angered. As of now in my canon/AU, there is only one person Fake Peppino has killed in this way. He didn't like the taste.

[jonathankai]

Mu Qing (mumbles): I wish I was in your bed. Feng Xin: What did you say??? Mu Qing (louder): I said, I wish you were dead!

Now the same joke and a short tale about what happens next:

Some things change, some things stay the same. Although the Heavenly Capital was rebuilt from scratch, just like the old Capital, it frequently suffered from general Xuanzhen and general Nang Yang’s fights.

Somewhere amid the chaos, after one of the usual quarrels, Mu Qing mumbled under his breath: “I wish I was in your bed”, and Feng Xin, who was about to leave, turned on his heels to ask: “What did you just say?”. Mu Qing said louder: “I said, I wish you were dead!”, so Feng Xin told him to fuck off and they fought some more.

But after that Feng Xin was never the same again. He heard that, he definitely did. Or did he???

Why would Mu Qing say something like this? And if he didn’t, the fact that Feng Xin heard such.. extravagant thing must say something about Feng Xin himself. Why would Feng Xin hear something like this?

Days flew by, Feng Xin was caught in a stupor. The thought about Mu Qing actually saying that phrase brought unexpected and unexplainable joy in his heart, while the thought about mishearing filled him with equally unexplainable dread. Deputies had to regularly shake their general to bring him back to his senses and even high priests were alarmed when their god replied to prayers in nonsensical manner.

Feng Xin has been oddly quiet lately, and Mu Qing embraced the change. Having to deal with Feng Xin all the time brought him enough heartache, so while the other god stayed away and kept his mouth shut, Mu Qing relished in peace.

Expect one night Feng Xin barged into his palace, tearing the front gate down (all deputies and servants present in palace rushed to surround him in the yard, sure it was a one-man ambush). When Mu Qing came to the front yard to kick Feng Xin out personally, he was a little unnerved to see that Feng Xin looked half-mad. Mu Qing felt his hackles rise. Whatever was about to happen now, it surely would be messy.

Feng Xin saw the cause of his suffering and burst out:

“DID YOU SAY IT OR DID I MISHEAR YOU???”

“Did I say what?”

“THAT YOU WANT TO BE IN MY BED???”

Deafening silence fell upon yard, and then stomping of many legs as all deputies and servants scattered in different directions like cockroaches. Every one of them knew well enough that if they’ve learnt any… sensitive information not meant for them, their general would more likely see them dead rather than let that information leak.

Stone-faced, Mu Qing spitted out:

“I have said no such thing”.

Whatever reaction he expected, it definitely was not what happened next. Feng Xin fell to his knees, turned his face and hands up to the sky and let out a howl of a wounded beast. And right after that – he fainted. Mu Qing grabbed him by the collar and dragged inside before neighbors would start coming to his crashed gates with questions.

In the inner chambers Mu Qing shook motionless Feng Xin and slapped him multiple times before he finally slowly opened his eyes.

Feng Xin was staring blindly at the ceiling with solemn expression on his face. He said:

“I’ve come to conclusion. If you said no such thing and still I heard it, it must mean that I have feelings for you. This is terrible”.

Surely thing, this made Mu Qing bristle.

“Why is having feelings for me terrible?!”

“Because you hate me”.

Mu Qing bristled even more.

“I don’t hate you! We’re friends! We’ve already established this!”

Feng Xin came to life a little bit, scrunching his nose and waving his hand ambiguously.

“You don’t HATE hate me, but you can’t stand the sight of me. You won’t even like me back”.

With that Feng Xin sighed and stood up slowly, still not looking at Mu Qing.

“Forget it. I won’t disturb you anymore. I would apologize for the gate, but you know what? It wasn’t completely undeserved”.

With that he dragged himself toward exit.

It was this moment when the last brain cell in Mu Qing’s head started to kick and scream. He hurried to say:

“Do you think I remember everything I say, especially to you? I might have said it”.

Just like some time ago, Feng Xin turned around:

“What do you mean you MIGHT have said it? Did you or did you not?!”

“I’m telling you, I don’t remember!”

“Okay, okay, doesn’t matter. You said it or you didn’t. It’s in the past. Answer me now. Do you—“

Feng Xin’s words were cut short as he snapped his mouth shut. Made another ambiguous gesture with his hand. Blushed.

A thought flashed through Mu Qing's mind: “Whatever you are going to say, I will to kill you”.

But Feng Xin squared his shoulders – a confident stance of a martial god – and said:

“Mu Qing, I like you. More than a friend. Do you like me?”

Mu Qing let out a relieved sigh. Somehow, this sounded better than quoting a thing he said in spur of the moment. He opened his mouth to answer and discovered something unpleasant – words were stuck in his throat. It was a simple question and actually the answer was quite simple too, but Mu Qing found himself unable to speak. Whatever force came over him, it left him frowning with his mouth slightly agape, no doubt looking like an idiot.

Luckily, Feng Xin couldn't bear the silence and snapped:

“Man up, you coward! Do you like me? Yes or no!”

“Who are you calling a coward, you dipshit! Yes, I like you! For whatever bizarre reason, it’s beyond my comprehension! I was silent because I’ve been trying to understand—Why are you laughing?!”

If Mu Qing was stunned before, now he was burning with embarrassment. He closed the distance to kick Feng Xin.

“Shut up! Shut up and get out of my palace!”

Suddenly, Feng Xin lashed out and grabbed him. Mu Qing tensed, preparing to break out of opponent’s grip. However it was not a grip...

It was a hug. A big good warm hug. Once Mu Qing realized what was going on, his hands flew to Feng Xin’s back on their own accord.

“If I “get lost” now, can I see you in the morning for a strategic meeting?”

“Strategic meeting?”

“Yeah. I think we need to discuss what we’re going to do now. What’s the plan”.

Agreeing with Feng Xin wasn’t something Mu Qing was prone to do, but it was surprisingly easy in the moment.

“Alright, sounds good. But why in the morning?”

Feng Xin’s body sank, leaning all of its’ weight on Mu Qing.

“Don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted”.

Mu Qing huffed and patted him on the back.

He escorted the unexpected guest to the front yard to see him out. Feng Xin glanced at the wreckage he’s done and decided that apology was necessary after all:

“Mu Qing, sorry for the gates”.

The other god waved him off dismissively.

“It’s alright, it’s alright. Was worth it in the end”.

Feng Xin gave him a stupid and mischievous smile – one Mu Qing hasn’t seen in 800 years plus some – and left general Xuanzhen’s palace.

Some things stay the same, some things change. With the dawn, the friendship remained the same, but something new has also arisen.