#i really like the idea of quickly doing machines rather than running around as a distraction

[lycorisicecream]

Silly little guy

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Continuity Error 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you are the resident tech and fly on the wall, until you're not. (short!reader)

Characters: Thor, this reader is known as Stormie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Everything is neat and tidy and separate. Like everything in your life. The bento box divides rice from even slices of grilled chicken, another unit of edamame and some greens in a section of their own. Right on top of your desk with the pen cup of black pens only and the organizer with post-its sorted by colour and size, along with a tin of mint and a single notebook. Orderly.  

Unlike the rabble around you. The office is chaos. It’s noisy. It’s annoying. 

It’s not where you wanted to be in life but you never really figured out the alternative. You just try to get by. Wake up, go to work, do your job, go home, eat. Everything is precise and routine. You don’t miss a beat. Just keep going. 

That day is no different than the ones before. Fefe makes eyes at Mr. Odinson as he walks in with one of his clients. They’re all the same. Sometimes you suspect they aren’t there for business with the way they chat up the assistants. It’s not your concern; you only care when they open a spam link or forget to plug in their monitor. Work is simple. 

You mind business and people mind theirs. They don’t remember you’re there until they need help. They don’t make small talk. You don’t either. What good is that? Just wasting time when you can fix their problem in less than a minute. You learned your lesson when that guy in the glasses keep winking. 

You chew your chicken. You forgot lemon juice in your sauce. A rare oversight. 

You take small bites. A bite of chicken. Then rice. Then edamame. And finally greens. It’s a parade of flavours. You keep the order; chicken, rice, veg... 

When you finish, you get up with the lid and reusable cutlery, stacked on top of the container, and go to the break room to rinse it all out. You take your tip; washing each corner and crevice. You dry the pieces thoroughly and put it all back together. 

“That’s an interesting container,” a deep voice startles you from the doorway. 

You turn as you click the lid firmly into place. You put the container against your chest, hiding it. It’s him. The big burly blond that runs the floor. You wiggle your nose. A compulsion you have yet to unlearn. 

“Sir.” 

“May I see?” He asks. 

As he comes closer you tense up. You don’t like people touching your stuff. You’ll have to resanitize it all and your hands. 

“Unless you’d rather I not,” Mr. Odinson relents and stops a few feet from you, “I only came for a top up.” 

He doffs his mug. The stains of his early brew still around the brim. He goes to the sink and rinses it out. He doesn’t scrub or soap it before he wipes it dry quickly and puts it on the tray of the single-serve machine. That’s exactly why you don’t touch the coffee station. You bring a thermos with cinnamon tea; it keeps warm all day long. 

You nod and head for the door.  

“Are you the replacement?” He asks. “I recall you looking much different.” 

You stop and shake your head, “tech, sir.” 

“Ah, yes, I remember now. The one in the corner,” he says as he clucks and squints at the selection of boxes. “Would you a recommendation?” 

You waver. You just want to go to your desk. Your nose twitches again. 

“I don’t drink coffee.” 

“Tea? My brother is preferential to it as well.” 

You’ve dealt with his brother. Down a few floors. Not very pleasant but asks a lot less questions. 

You nod. He looks at you and brushes his fingertips along his golden beard. He’s a very large man but you suppose next to you, anyone is. 

“I should go back to my desk.” 

“And who says so? I am the boss, so far as I know,” he muses. 

You pause before you can flee. Your nose wiggles. His blue eyes catch on the movement. You stare back, unsure what to do. 

“Hm, this Colombian roast looks interesting,” he plucks out a pod. You stand there blankly. You don’t like this. He’s making you feel dumb. He’s getting in the way of your routine. “Are you available to have a look at my computer? It seems I’m having some error with the secure connection. That is, if you can make time for me?” 

As the machine grinds loudly to push your shoulders back. “It is my job, yes.” 

“Perfect, go ahead and wait for me in my office,” he says coolly, his focus on the spout. 

You retreat through the door and flit over to your desk. You open your drawer and shove the container in your bag. You turn and look over at his office door. You slowly make your way between the desks toward it.  

You pause across from the name placque on the door and glance over as Sierra watches you. You cross and push the handle down. You enter warily. You leave the door open and near his large desk. You go around and roll his chair aside. You hate touching other peoples’ things; you prefer to remote in. 

You stand as you wake up the computer. You step back and wait. It’s locked. That’s good. You shouldn’t leave your device accessible. 

Odinson enters with a waft of coffee. He smiles at you and your nose scrunches. “You will need to sign in and you can show me the problem.” You step back. 

He comes around the desk and sets the cup down carelessly. A splash overflows the brim and leaks onto the desk, the coaster forgotten by his mousepad. He pulls his chair closer and sits in it heavily, the wheels squeaking. 

It takes him several tries to login as his thick fingers are almost too big for the keys. When he’s in, he clicks around. You watch him bring up the server portal. He types again. 

“Sir,” you say. “The two-factor authentication requires you to confirm on a secondary device. You need to type in sms and it will send a passcode to your phone or whatever else you’ve set up with the system.” 

“Ah!” He snaps his fingers. “I knew it would be obvious. Clever rabbit.” He pops his index up. 

“Problem solved,” you say and check your watch. Lunch is over. 

“Thank you,” he beams. 

You leave him without another word. You find it hard to believe he was locked out when the security protocol has been in place for well over a year. He needs it every day so why is it suddenly an issue? You shrug. 

Like you said, problem solved. You can go back to your corner. 

[aliensupastar]

shouldn’t feel like a crime

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto/GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You finally try Carmy’s cooking. Follow-up to “not wrong, but not right”

Part I Part III

Warnings: minor angst, comfort, fluff, depiction of an eating disorder, food and eating, healing?

A/N: first off, thank you all so much for the love on the first part! i wrote it as a comfort during a difficult time and it was so nice to see people enjoy it. i didn’t intend on writing more for it, but a few people asked for it and i finally got an idea for a follow-up! as a disclaimer, i wrote most of this before season 2 came out and edited it afterwards, but there are no spoilers. gif by emziess <3

Carmy is a good boss. You know this, you’ve known it for months. His sometimes-abrasive idiolect aside, he runs the restaurant like he cares about every brick that built it, every burner the crew uses to make each dish, every ticket that comes through that god-forsaken machine on the expo station. It makes any screaming match easily forgivable, and any nightmare lunch rush endurable. 

What you didn’t know was that Carmy could also be a good friend. Since your stint in the emergency room he’s made good on his agreement with you, without ever being overwhelming. He’s instead mercifully subtle. There’s a few bottles of lemonade kept in the office’s mini-fridge now, for when you get dizzy. He’s lent you that coat of his a few times, when the night air ends up chillier than you predicted that morning, and you’ve left your own jacket at home. And he never fails to give you a look, during the busiest hours at the restaurant, communicating quickly, and quietly: Are you good? And you know if the answer is no, he’ll let you take a breather without a single complaint, but you always respond with a quick nod and push through the rest of the shift.

In turn, you do your best not to worry him. You take vitamins and get better sleep and try to stop pushing yourself to the brink of passing out. You even eat one of your safe foods in front of him, at family while everyone else enjoyed the samosas Ebrahaim had cooked up that day, and for once it felt good to eat; the constant playful bickering and banter a welcome distraction from the usual stress that follows your meals. 

It’s nice. Maybe you don’t necessarily feel like you’re getting better, just more… stable. Less like you’re in a free-fall and more like you’ve got both feet on solid ground. 

When you go to leave after closing up one night and find that it’s raining, impeding you from making your usual trek to the train station, you turn back and head to the office. And a few months ago, you might’ve been too nervous around Carmy to even ask to stay in the restaurant an extra hour, preferring to brave the cold rain and let your clothes get soaked and heavy rather than hang around. You’re relieved, now, to find Carmy right where you left him when you said goodnight just a minute ago, ready to save you from a miserable trip home. 

“What’s up?” He asks when he spots you. 

“It’s raining.” You tell him, nodding your head in the direction of the back door. “Didn’t bring an umbrella. Do you mind if I stick around for a bit, just ‘till it stops?” 

“Yeah, it’s no problem, I’ll be here finishing up for a while, anyway,” He says, then continues after a brief pause. “Y’know you really gotta stop relying on that iPhone weather app.”

You scoff, shaking your head at his teasing. 

“You know I’m too lazy to start using another one.”

“I’m just sayin’.” He pushes out of his chair and walks past you, into the kitchen, grabbing a sponge and the container of soap water he uses to clean the countertops. 

“You want help?” You offer, already taking off your coat and tossing it onto the office chair. 

“Nah, you already clocked out. Don’t worry about it.” He replies, not even looking up as he begins to scrub, but you pick up a sponge anyway and get to work on the counter behind him. 

You fall into a comfortable silence for a while after that, only broken by the sound of rough sponges scraping away at the grime and the faint patter of rain on the roof of the building, and part of you wishes you had more opportunities for this. More time spent with him, outside of the hustle and bustle of the restaurant, even if it’s spent cleaning. His presence has become something you’d rather not avoid, even if it makes your heart race; the unique scent of him on the coat you’ve borrowed is becoming familiar, comforting. 

“Glad it wasn’t busy today.” Your train of thought is interrupted by his sudden comment, but you quickly nod. 

“Practically a miracle, for a Friday.” You agree, hearing him chuckle behind you. 

“Didn’t need that shit today, anyways, not while I’m on,” He says. He was working the stovetop today, alongside Sydney, making an efficient team as they churned out dishes quicker than the customers could file in. It made your day a little easier, the delicious aroma wafting from the kitchen while you savored the downtime granted by the slow day. 

“I’ve never tried your cooking,” You say offhandedly, but your words make him pause and look back at you, eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“Really?” He asks, and you nod. “You’ve worked here for months, though.” 

“I know.” You shrug. 

“How come?” 

That makes you stop scrubbing, turning slightly to look at him. 

“Think you know the answer to that one, chef.” You tease, before continuing to work. He huffs out a laugh, but keeps staring at your back while you scrub. 

“I could make you something.” He finally says, and it makes you truly stop, turning to face him fully. 

“Y’all just cleaned this whole kitchen.” Now it’s his turn to shrug. 

“I don’t mind.” You give him an incredulous look.

“I- If you think I’m gonna help you clean the stove and the plates again, you’re wrong.” Carmy just shakes his head, tossing his sponge back into the container of water and grabbing a few clean pans. 

“C’mon, I can’t have you walking around saying you’ve never tried the food at the restaurant you work at,” He says. “You like spaghetti?”

He’s casual in the way he asks, but you’re still standing by the counter, eyebrows raised in shock. Your mind is starting to race, the way it does every time you’re faced with food, but Carmy’s already pouring olive oil into a saucepan and brandishing his chef knife to chop an onion. 

You approach the stove he’s standing at carefully, like it might just burst into flames, and you can already smell the familiar scent of garlic and olive oil and god, he’s only been at it for a minute and it already smells like heaven in this kitchen. 

“Smell good?” 

“Yeah,” You practically breathe out. “Shit, smells amazing.” 

He smiles at that, a rare thing to see on his face. He’s thoughtful for a moment, before saying:

“This is, uh, Mikey’s recipe, actually.” 

Your eyes widen, a bit taken aback by his mention of his late brother. At least, his mention of Mikey to you. 

You’d learned about what happened to Michael just a few weeks after being hired, after having witnessed the heavy silence that overtook the room when he’d been mentioned, and asking Marcus after work what all that had been about. Since you received your explanation, you’ve tried to mind your own business when the melancholy that came with Michael’s memory returned, giving those who seemed to know him best room to process before getting back to work. 

Carmy’s never talked about Mikey to you directly; no one has. You’re not sure what to say. 

“Mikey, that’s… your brother, right?” You ask hesitantly, even if you already know the answer before Carmy nods. 

“Yeah. He used to run this place, before it was The Bear.” He tells you. 

“Before?” Your confusion and surprise seeps into your tone. “What was it before?”

“Still a restaurant, but, quick service. Italian sandwiches. We weren’t called The Bear, we were-“ He chuckles, caught up in reminiscing. “We were called The Original Beef of Chicagoland.” 

“No shit! This used to be The Beef?” He nods his confirmation and you’re instantly brought back, the memory faded like an old photo that’s been shoved into storage and forgotten. The only thing that wasn’t hard to recall was the sandwich you’d ordered, practically dripping with flavor, the exact kind of comfort food you’d needed that day.

“Been here before?” He asks.

“Yeah, I just- I didn’t recognise it.” You’d sat at a table across from the friend that dragged you to the slightly shabby establishment, silently relishing in the deliciousness of your food before the panic could set in, so enraptured by it you didn’t even care about the booming voice coming from behind a door that presumably led to the kitchen. Not even when the person it belonged to came out to the front and-

“Mikey, was he like, tall? Black hair?” You suddenly ask, gesturing how tall you’d remembered the man being, and now Carmy’s the one that’s confused. 

“Uh, yeah. You- you knew Mikey?” He sounds a little breathless when he asks, but you shake your head. 

“No, but when I came here before, he was still running the place, I guess. And just… loud as shit. Hard to ignore,” You look up and meet Carmy’s eyes. “Hard to forget.” 

You both share a laugh at that, at the memory of his brother that he loved, and that you barely even knew. 

“Yeah, that definitely sounds like him.” The sweet smile stays on his face as he chops and sautées, refusing to let you do more than start boiling the spaghetti for him. All you can do is watch the pasta and watch him as he navigates his brother’s recipe like it’s pure muscle memory. 

As much as you like to steal glances at him during opening prep, you don’t get to see as much of him during service hours. You’re just as busy working front-of-house, keeping people happy and keeping Richie off your ass, as he is while he’s trying to keep up on dishes. You don’t get a ton of chances to see him like this, in his element. He plates the finished spaghetti perfectly, in two bowls, so you know he won’t let you eat alone. 

Still, the anxiety in your stomach rises when you accept the fork Carmy hands you, and you can’t help but pause. He does, too, and you know he easily recognises the cause of your trepidation. 

“What’s up?” He asks, his voice gentle. You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the conflict in your mind, but you can’t stop yourself from saying it. 

“Do you… just, maybe have an idea of-“

“I have no clue how many calories are in this.” He answers your question before you can even ask it, and you can’t help but let out a breath of amusement — at yourself, at him for somehow knowing. 

It’s his gentle smile, one that lacks judgment or pity, that pushes you to finally swirl the spaghetti around your fork and take a bite and-

Oh my god. 

You can’t help the moan that escapes you during that first bite, ignoring Carmy’s chuckle at your slight dramatics. You can see why he’s hot shit in the restaurant world; the dish barely looked fancy or complicated when he’d made it, certainly not as complicated as anything on the menu, but somehow it tastes better than any pasta you’ve ever had. You would say you’re in disbelief, but you don’t pause long enough to think about anything but this, how amazing every flavor bursting on your tongue is.

Carmy finishes his pasta before you do, but he stands next to you till your bowl is empty, before taking it over to the dish pit and beginning to scrub down all the dishware he’d used. And you stand there for a second, staring at his back, unable to process all the emotion filling you as he washes your bowl. The bowl he let you get dirty, because he wanted you to be able to try his food. 

The utter warmth flooding your senses is almost overwhelming.

Then, despite your earlier protests, you pick up the sponge he abandoned earlier and get to scrubbing the stovetop down again. You ignore the few warm tears that escape your waterline in the process. 

You mindlessly follow Carmy around as he walks through each room, shutting off lights and locking the front entrance and office doors. When you inevitably make your way to the back exit, you push open the door only to find that it’s still raining, worse than it was hours ago. You can only sigh and lean your head against the doorway in defeat. 

“Need a ride?” Carmy offers easily. 

You think back to the frame that sits on the countertop out front, holding a slightly crumpled index card: “I love you, dude. Let it rip.” Words you’ve seen nearly every day since your first on the job; you just now realize they’re probably Michael’s.

It feels like too much. The letting you stick around, the pasta, the… everything. 

You nod anyways, accepting Carmy’s offer, letting him lead you to his car, and he lets you lead the way home.

[illubean]

can i request headcanons of any hxh characters your choice (preferably including illumi, chrollo, and/or feitan) with a crush on/unestablished relationship with a gender neutral reader who refuses to fully align themselves with anyone but has an incredibly OP ability that requires their blood or body (can shoot blood in like spikes, detach their limbs to chase down and drag back runners, use their blood and/or tears to heal wounds, can just regrow lost limbs including their head, ect.) that would make being on their bad side more trouble then it's worth

so every fight they kind of /have/ to get injured to use it. Plus their ability weirdly doesn't seem to use nen (chrollo can't copy it and gyo doesn't show anything, ect.)

and when they're finally asked about it they're casually like "oh yeah, I'm not human. I was actually created to be an unstoppable force that infects and destroys humanity, but that's honestly too much work. Plus you give me snacks so I'd rather just hit whoever you tell me to." and their reactions to the fact this insanely overpowered goober they've fallen for is a stray shapeshifting little abomination who could have murdered the entire human race and that they're lowkey lucky reader likes getting bribed them so much

(Sorry if that's too long btw, I thought you'd like the idea but I couldn't think of a better way to condense it 😅)

HXH With an Unaligned!OP!Reader

Characters: Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor Type: Headcanons, Gn!reader

i do not like how this came out but posting anyways lol...

Warnings: mentions of blood, experimentation and violence, reader isn't human if that counts as a warning

Illumi Zoldyck

the way you met Illumi was... not ideal to say the least

he was on a job to kill some scientist guy but little did he know scientist guy had quite literally created a monster

the day he was going to do his mission happened to be the day your power was finally realized

annnndddd Illumi walked in on you killing scientist guy and literally everyone else who worked for him

you had managed to pop your arms off and launch them like missiles, turn your blood into weapons and spikes around the room and also not die????? and grow your limbs back???????????

the weird part was Illumi couldn't sense any of your aura at all

he just assumed you were a super advanced nen user and were able to still keep up hatsu really well while fighting

which led him to the conclusion that he should either A. run away or B. try and get you on his side

when you noticed him just standing there you turned to stare at him like come at me bitch

"So? Are you here to poke me with more needles like the others? It won't end very well." "Actually I was here for the guy in the lab coat, but it seems like you did the job for me."

realizing he wasn't a threat (or trying to be because you know...you cant die) you let down your guard down

you ended up just following him around after that, not really having anywhere else to go so Illumi decided on plan B

turns out it took a lot less manipulating than he thought

he brought you to the estate and you agreed to help him with whatever for a popeyes chicken sandwich

watching how you wandered around the estate aimlessly and lounged about Illumi quickly realized you only use your abilities when threatened or bribed

so you become his personal little treat fueled killing machine

he takes you on missions with him because he doesn't trust you alone at the estate...

eventually he asks you about how your hatsu is so good and you're like wtf is that

and he's like What.

you tell him you we're pretty much created in that lab and they did all these tests and stuff and you didn't even really know how or why you had the power you did but you found out you did the day you met

and you were all like "they were so annoying and they told me to do stuff for free, I'd never kill you though you feed me :3"

he is so glad you are clueless and he got to you before anyone else because you could take over the entire world if you really wanted to

he is going to marry you ASAP

but again, you being clueless did not understand what marriage entails

and you agreed for the same reasons you agreed to literally anything else this man has asked of you

you are Illumi's most prized possession and no matter how freaky you are, he really does cherish you as normal people would their spouse

Chrollo Lucilfer

running into you on a heist was definitely unexpected

especially since you looked like you just got out of captivity

mistaking him for an enemy you shot your fist off at him and barely missed

and he was like woah im not an opp dw

then your hand grows back and hes like !?

he asked why you were there you explain that you were some sort of war weapon yada yada yada the guys got annoying you killed them and yeah

and Chrollo offers you to come back w him and the troupe and you're like sure if you feed me

so after the heist is over Chrollo takes you back to Phantom Troupe hq and then talks with the gang blah blah blah dismisses everyone and then takes you to wherever the hell and buys you whatever you want to eat

and while you're stuffing your face bro is like

"Your powers are pretty impressive. Mind telling me how they work?"

and not caring you tell him, mainly focused on your meal

and he's like huh what a useful ability time to steal it

one thing leads to another and he somehow gets you to touch his weird book and when he flips to where your nen should be the page is blank and he is insanely confused

and hes like "Why didn't my nen ability work on you?"

and you're like wtf is nen

and hes like oh my god I don't think this thing is human

so he asks

and you're like "I literally told you I'm a war weapon. A weapon created for war, but that's too much work."

now he is confused but also intrigued

he offers for you to join the troupe and you're like

"But being in a gang is so much wooorrrkkkkkuuuuhhhh"

you can literally destroy man kind but you don't because you're LAZY!?

you're not officially part of the troupe but you're practically an honorary member because you follow Chrollo around after your first encounter

and he decides it 's better than nothing

Feitan Portor

I can't think of a clever way for you guys to meet LMAO

umm uhhh idk maybe you were created to take out the chimera ants and happened to get deployed in meteor city the same time the troupe was hunting down the 'queen'

so when the troupe got there you were already fighting some ants

you look human enough but your abilities make Feitan think you might not be

soooo he tries attacking you before he ended up getting to the lizzard ant crocodile lady thing i don't remember what she was

and he couldn't beat you and you're like wtf do you want from me I'm trying to do my job

and hes like ??? you're not an ant?

and youre like no

and hes like oh and leaves you alone

then he throws the entire sun at the ant lady and leaves the building

he kinda forgot about you until he felts something lift the back of his cloak

and he's like !!?!?!??!

and he looks behind him to see you crawled under his coat and took the snacks he hides under there for himself

and he's like what the fuck

how did you even know he had those???? (you could smell it because you have super enhanced everything)

ok i just remembered his cloak got destroyed in this scene but pretend it didn't

anyways he snatches the bottom of it away from you and tries taking the snacks back out of your hands but you are quick to dodge

he's irritated but he just lets you have them he's too tired to deal with this

you end up following him after this like a lost puppy and the rest of the troupe is like ??????

but they can't get rid of you

and on the way out of meteor city you were like yap yap yap weapon yap yap created in a lab yap yap yap immortal

feitan could not care less about what you had to say but he was like ??? to the immortal thing

maybe you weren't a bad thing to keep around

[gabessquishytum]

I blame this one on watching too many racing movies recently, but Racecar driver Hob and nepo-baby Team sponsor Dream.

Dream somehow (he suspects Desire) becomes the representative of the Endless Corporation for the racing team they sponsor. It is Dream’s idea of hell, large crowds, loud noises, fleeting seconds of action to watch directly, and then being expected to chat with others while watching the tv screens. He doesn’t know what is happening and doesn’t really care, and it shows. Sure, being in the luxury of the owners/sponsors box helps, but still he’d rather be anywhere else.

Dream eventually heads to the team’s garage with the excuse that he wants to listen to the race engineers and driver directly. Everybody in the garage is too busy doing their job to try and chat with him or pay him more attention than is needed to get him a headset and settled out of the way, so it’s perfect for Dream.

Robert “The Immortal” Gadling is the newest addition to the Endless racing team, so named because he has survived more on-track crashes and accidents than any other active driver, most of them weren’t even his fault. He always says the reaper is going to come for him in a car, so he might as well make it an interesting death. The press thinks he is just a thrill seeker chasing fame. In truth, he lost Robyn, Elanor, and the baby from being hit by a drunk driver while he was driving, and it haunts him. He wants to prove that he is the best driver, because if he is the best and he still lost his family in an accident, then no one else would have reacted faster or handled the car better.

Hob isn’t the best yet. He is always in the upper pack but hasn’t consistently broken onto the podium. He’s hoping this new team will be a chance to really show what he can do. Hob always has a running commentary going on the team comms no matter how long or intense the race is. People constantly have to break into his chatter to give him the information he needs about the car, his competition, or track conditions.

Dream is intrigued by this man who constantly jokes around while driving a heavy death machine around at break-neck speeds. They end up talking a few races later when after the race Dream stays long enough for Hob to notice a new face in the garage. Dream finds he enjoys having all that intense focus on him alone. Chats after the race become drinks out, then become dinner together. Soon, they are exploring the cities the races are in together when there is downtime. Eventually, they end up testing the structural integrity of Dream’s hotel’s beds as Hob sets out to prove that he is an athlete in peak shape thank you very much.

Poor Dream who has never had a healthy relationship in his life is insistent that what they have is a friends-with-benefits or fuckbuddy situation even though neither is looking elsewhere, they are always talking to each other and they’ve both shown each other the skeletons in their respective closets. Hob would like to call their relationship more but also knows his constant dance with death or at least serious injury is as good a reason as any for Dream to avoid any kind of commitment to him not counting both their emotional baggage.

Things come to a head when Hob is caught in a multi-car crash and is sent rolling into the center of the track where the car quickly catches fire. Dream pushes himself into the pack of people from the team following the first responders to the crash, hoping that the safety gear the team poured some of the sponsorship money into actually did something. He isn’t allowed on the medical helicopter when Hob is airlifted out, but he does set some speed records of his own getting to the hospital.

The safety equipment does its job and Hob will only have to miss a few races for recovery, but Dream is not letting Hob go one more day without formalizing their relationship because no one else gets Hob, not even Death. Hob’s memory of that first “I love you” is hazed by painkillers, but they exchange the words so many times during his hospital stay that he isn’t too worried about it.

When he is cleared to begin racing again Hob starts consistently placing on the podium and each time he makes sure his boyfriend gets caught in the champagne spray no matter how much Dream grumbles about the cost of cleaning his designer clothes. Years later, when Hob retires from being a driver so he can spend more time with his husband, he is considered the chattiest driver of all time, Dream listened to every single one of his races after all. He also incidentally will be remembered as one of the best drivers of his generation.

-💥

I know close to nothing about racing but omg I am so here for this!!! Driver Hob!!! Chatty, risky, charismatic driver Hob with a tragic backstory!! I love it, once again I can only thank you for honouring me with this mini fic <333

I love to imagine Hob doing press conferences and managing to turn every answer for every question into a rant about how amazing Dream is, he loves Dream so much, he never thought he'd be able to get to the top of his sport but Dream has given him the motivation. And Dream himself is standing at the back of the room desperately wishing that the floor would swallow him up <333

[welcome-to-sparkys]

Springlocked

TW: gore, Ness dies, springlocking

Summary: Ness saves Abby from being put in the spring lock suit, but at what cost?

A/N: Short little angsty fic here! Not quite security waiter but there's hints of it. This was if Ness took Vanessa's place plot wise in the movie. Just really liked the idea :3 Not a whole lot of editing just wanted to get this out there. May rewrite this at a later date.

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The sound was something Abby could never completely scrape from her memory. The sight of it all was burned into her eyes. Ness shoved Chica away, saving her from the metal grave, but Ness had miscalculated. He threw himself a little too much in the shove, which quickly reminded him of Newton's laws of physics.

He fell into the maw of Ella's abdomen. The sudden jolt of an adult's weight was more than enough to set off the spring locks.

It was almost like a mouse trap in how quick it closed and crunched bone. Ness began spitting up blood within a minute. The spider-leg-like spindels of metal clamped down on his supple flesh. Agony was inadequate to the sound of his screams.

Blood began to pool on the floor. Drip drip drip... Ness writhed in the machine from Hell, his body involuntarily convulsing as more jabs hit him. The claws sunk deeper...

Abby winced, squeezing her eyes shut and covering her ears with all her might as her shrill scream filled the air alongside Ness's gurgling.

"Abby... Run..." Ness managed to spit out, his crushed windpipe added a thick coarse sound to his once sweet-tone. He wanted her to flee before she'd hear his inevitable death rattle.

Mike dashed into the room, hearing the screaming. His mouth fell agape. What he saw... What he saw was worse than he could ever imagine. He knew he was going to be dreaming — a nightmarish dream — of this moment. Over and over and over again... Wondering, pleading, if he could have done anything different.

Mike scrambled to scoop up Abby. Chica hadn't attempted to pick her up again. The childrens' plan had been unexpectedly foiled. Mike didn't want to leave Ness behind, how could he do that? Yet... Abby needed out first.

He rushed out the exit, setting the poor shaken girl on her feet. "Abby, don't- Stay here." He was out of breath, his mind racing. He didn't give her a chance to respond before risking his life, running back inside.

The murderous robot had left, leaving Ness to die alone.

Well, not anymore.

Mike fell to his knees before Ness, blood soaking his weathered jeans. "Ness, Ness listen to me-" Mike choked out. "I'm going to get you out of here, I promise."

Ness simply... Smiled. How could he smile in a moment like this? "I'm just... Glad she's safe." He croaked. "Tell her I love her, Mike. Okay?" His hoarse voice was growing weaker after each word. Something flickered in his eyes. As if... As if he had something to tell Mike. He opened and closed his mouth, swallowing. God... His mouth felt so dry, despite the blood.

Mike fiercely shook his head. "Don't talk like that, dammit! You're not dying. Not here, not now!" Mike shouted, his pain reverberated in the tiny backroom. "You're not... I can't- I can't lose someone else. Not again." Not when he could have prevented it. Again.

"Mike... Remember her order for me, okay?" Ness said rather calmly. "She loves buttermilk pancakes with chocolate chips in the shape of a smile. Two whipped cream eyebrows to boot." He tried to chuckle, but out came a cough and a splatter of more blood. "Don't forget... Please."

Mike nodded in defeat. He knew Ness was a goner. He knew... He knew Ness knew that. "Okay..." He gently took Ness's hand, it daintly hung out the machine. It was so... Cold.

Mike could see the damage. It made his stomach churn. One of Ness's larger intestines had fallen out from a large rip made in his lower abdomen. It was suspended in the air. It was so unnatural and sickly to see. Yet, Mike refused to turn away from Ness. He didn't dare leave him alone. Chunks of flesh wrapped around the sleek and smooth metal parts.

He sat there, and waited. Ness took his last breath, hoarse and inhuman. Yet he smiled. He was content knowing Mike and Abby was safe. That's all that mattered.

A small sliver of Mike had felt peace, knowing Ness was able to die with that weak little smile.

And then he wept.

The building later collapsed, leaving Afton and Ness inside to rot. Mike swore he'd come back, every night. And he did. He rewound the nature sounds tape, and let it play in that very room. He spoke to Ella, to Ness, letting him know about Abby. How she misses Ness so dearly.

"She wants to visit, you know." The frazzled, sleepless man said to the cold, fowl-smelling machine. "And... And I get her those pancakes. Every Sunday like usual. Chocolate chips and everything." He choked on a sob.

One night, Mike swore he saw the machine move. Just an inch. But maybe... Maybe it meant something.

[csyched]

Since some people seem to like my QDS rambles i think i will keep going… :>

Did you know i really love QDS Gale? And I will tell you everything I love about how he was written and how I have analyzed him after being into QDS for over a year. Mind you, spoilers for volumes 1+2, though it's only regarding Gale himself and nothing else, and I try to keep the big moments vague. Also, this is a long post.

First off, I think Yu Godai does a fantastic job writing her own interpretation of Gale. Since he wasn’t an original character of hers, he’s quite different in the novel series, yet I would argue that his character arc is written better and of course, more stretched out than it is in DDS. There is more of a slow-burn in terms of his development, and even if you can’t read the later volumes apart from the summaries available (I had to machine translate the entirety of vol. 5 lmao), you still can see how he changes throughout the series, and it’s really nice to see it through.

In QDS, rather than having an instant awakening, Gale has to grapple with difficult emotions like anxiety and frustration a bit more slowly as things in his environment begin to change. Another different component is that because of changing conditions of the world, he is denied of his role by Serph and is stuck back at base for many missions, hence his developing frustration. Thus, he starts to question his worth within the Junkyard, and because of the "thought conditioning" that he and all other bishops in the Junkyard were put through, it’s even more difficult for him to try and rationalize these unfamiliar emotions. (At one point, he even tries to run an internal diagnostic check because he's so confused about what he is feeling). For him, someone who has been born to act as an obedient machine, emotions are unnecessary and an obstacle in his job. Additionally, it's clear the sudden change is something he is not designed to handle. This leads to him repressing his feelings as a defense mechanism. It ends up protecting him as intended later on (ooh does that part get interesting by the way!), but it leaves him struggling to connect to the people around him. Most people brush him off as cold and uncaring with his nature of relying on logic for strategy.

Clearly though, Gale does care, and he is self-aware. He just has no idea how to express it all.

Gradually, Gale does begin to break, starting with the unease he feels with his unfulfilling role. He isn't allowed to fight alongside his comrades, nor do normal bishop duties (everything in the Junkyard is breaking), and he's essentially being grounded like a child, his ideas very often dismissed. With the weight of this and confusing, contradicting orders from his leader, we get to see Gale crack under all of this pressure. There is an expectation for him to be a bishop and listen to orders obediently, but to also change and adapt and understand everything like everyone else, including complex emotions. It’s a ridiculous expectation, of course, which leads me to a bit of an off-tangent point.

As an autistic person, reading and focusing on Gale’s perspective felt… painfully familiar. Sure, there are obvious things like his monotone voice and low variety in facial expression, things I also have. There’s also his hypersensitivity, something he is equipped with due to being a bishop. Additionally, there is a certain level of infantilization I think he is treated with, made more noticeable by the fact that he is the oldest in the Embryon. But something I also recognized as relatable was that inherent and instant expectation for Gale to quickly grasp the intentions of others and the nuances of their emotions and perspectives. In response, Gale begins to develop an ability to predict how people will react (e.g., he develops a tactical plan according to how he thinks Serph will like it and will respond to the current situation, his commanding style being of slight irrationality and emotional “hunches” that Gale doesn’t understand, but tries to) and he really does try to empathize with his comrades out of his own concern... it's just hard. And he isn't given much patience with it, clearly.

Additionally, he misses “obvious” social cues, yet is hyper-vigilant, or very self-aware in how he talks to people, to the point of fearing rejection or punishment. For example, he:

Thinks he's in trouble and being detained when Sera holds his hands when he goes unconscious, and is then assumed to be ungrateful

Misses sarcastic jokes by Cielo

Provides prolonged explanations that are usually unprompted, at least not to be in such high detail

Immediately assumes punishment from Serph when failing a certain responsibility he was given

I believe these are things that some, or many autistic people have experienced in their life. For me, I was recently diagnosed as an adult, and understanding the way I interact with others is eye-opening, yet frustrating and painful since it’s taken so many years of utter confusion to get here. Many of us grow up with a distinct feeling of "what is wrong with me?". I believe that Gale truly deserved some grace, but nothing ever goes well in QDS, sadly. I can promise you however, that Gale gets to learn and grow a lot in the series.

And if you want to know more about Gale in QDS, I'd be happy to share more. These novels deserve a lot more spotlight.

[dzamie-oc]

Voretober 19 - Replica

Length: 2100 words Vore type: M/M oral vore, willing prey Fandom: None Other info: furry robot pred, human prey Summary: There are certain benefits to befriending a mad* scientist Synth. And certain risks, but I'm sure it's fine. *Teq would surely argue that sanity is a meaningless concept to a robot, and therefore it cannot be lost (Synths are an open species created by Vader-San)

Sam blinked his eyes open; he was laying in some sort of cushioned tube, like the ones in Teq's lab. He tapped the glowing "exit" button and sat up, groggy. Around the tube was, well… Teq's lab. The practically second home of his Synth friend, the place was littered with tools, notes, and half-finished contraptions that it swore it had put in "the most efficient places possible." Today, the focus seemed to be around the biggest 3D printer Sam had ever seen, covered in papers with diagrams and measurements all over them.

Teq itself stood over its desk, presumably with even more complicated papers. [Oh, hello again Sam. Did you wake up well?] it asked, turning its head so its visor could "look" at him. Really, with its tail plugged into the wire hanging from the ceiling, Teq had seen Sam through every wall-mounted camera pointed near him, but he appreciated the familiar body language.

"Er, yeah, thanks for the makeshift bed, but I don't remember climbing in."

[Perfectly normal,] it replied, its electronic wink pulsing a mischievous yellow and blue, [seeing as you didn't.]

"Right, yeah, I remember some new scan you wanted to…" a yawn interrupted Sam, and he reached up in a big stretch, one that drew his attention to his outfit.

Or rather, his lack thereof.

"Teq, do you know why I'm naked?"

[Yes.]

Sam sighed. "Care to tell me?"

[Oh, absolutely!]

A few more seconds passed, and another sigh. "This stopped being funny the second time you did it."

The corners of the Synth's mouth pulled back in a grin, filled with its flat, blunt set of metal "teeth." [I wholeheartedly disagree! Buuuut it does wear thin quickly. Your clothes are folded over there,] it pointed towards a bench where, indeed, Sam's clothes sat, [but if everything goes well, you won't need them.]

"Uh-huh." Sam swung his legs out of the tube, grimaced when they touched the frigid floor, and reluctantly sat back down. "But I'll hear you out. What are you up to?"

[I've discovered a method to fork humans!] Teq said, its lights flashing like glittering gold. [Sinera contributed the magic part, since I am incapable of thaumic conductivity. Perhaps another day I will attempt to optimize away the safeguards she applied, but that requires many more tests.]

Sam rolled his eyes, smiling. "Is this leading up to a "I can't fork you if you're not naked" joke?"

Teq simply stuck out its metal, segmented tongue; Sam noticed that it was wetter than the Synth usually kept it. It crossed its arms and huffed, [well, not if you're going to take it away from me. I would like one more trial, however, before introducing a variable in participant.]

"Okay, so… forking is your "I'm being a funny computer" way of saying cloning, right? How many Sams are there running around right now?"

[One, if you count yourself.]

"Oh, so you failed, but you want to try again?"

Teq shook its head. [Every single trial has passed! It just… turns out having more than one active at a time causes problems. I won't elaborate.]

A sense of dread grew in Sam's chest. "So… so what happened to the others?"

[I ate them,] the Synth said simply, [accidentally scanning your browser history gave me a great idea, really, that reduces the net energy cost per test!]

"Am I-" Sam's breath caught in his throat, "- am I next?" He rose into a crouch, as though thinking he could run in a facility where the robot dragon controlled every machine and the doors.

[Ideally, yes, but you know how I am about consent forms for research participation.] Teq grabbed a few sheets of paper and flipped through them, likely more for dramatic effect than actually recalling information. [I was hoping for a nice, round 16, but if you would rather not, I can simply attempt to court a new subject. I'll keep you in the loop, of course.]

Sam shook his head and climbed out, gritting his teeth at the cold against his feet, and the distinct lack of anything keeping his body heat in. "Well, I'm glad to hear I can avoid you killing me by just telling you not to." He shivered. "Fuck, it's chilly in here."

[I have been keeping my internal spatial storage at 30 degrees Celsius,] the Synth offered, pointing one finger helpfully into its mouth, [and the path from intake to storage is of a similar temperature.]

Trying to keep his teeth from chattering, Sam stepped towards his clothes. "Is that supposed to convince me to let you eat me?"

[It was a convincing argument three times, though putting your clothes in your line of sight seems to have disrupted this trend.]

The man stopped and turned. "Three times? Wouldn't I remember?"

Teq stepped closer, but remained at a short distance. [Moreso than I anticipated, which is an annoyingly convincing argument towards the existence of souls - I might be out a few hundred bucks. But still, scarcely more than the character in that game you played last night remembered if you asked hir to use hir tail, penis, or mouth to eat your character.]

Sam nearly jumped with shock, but his blush meant his face, at least, didn't feel cold. "H-how did you-"

[Fifth trial, you used it as an analogy to your situation while sitting inside me.] It winked at him, the dotted oval briefly changing into a lit-up caret. [However, I only possess a mouth. Perhaps for later experiments or leisure…]

Sam crossed his arms, and walked up to it. "Fifteen times?" Teq nodded. "You're not telling me a lower number to trick me into agreeing to more?"

[Nor am I lying with a higher number to imply a greater confidence of success,] it agreed. [I chose this method of… duplicate prevention to increase the odds of your cooperation and to avoid a mess. I supect I will use its appeal to attract a new test subject after one final successful run.]

An uneasy look crossed the man's face. "I… hadn't thought of the "higher number" thing until you brought it up." He sighed, and looked at Teq's draconic face. "Please be honest again: did I enjoy being swallowed and, uh… whatever you did to me?"

[Yes, unless you lied to me about it. I did not see utility in attempting to discern that.] It looked away with its hand on its chin, as though thinking. [With the exception of an unfortunately uncomfortable entrance. If you decide to go one more time, I will eat you feet-first to prevent this.]

"…alright. Load up that consent doc, Teq."

[Thank you~!] it replied, with a small jingle. Its facial display showed a text document, and its upturned eyes soon faded from view. [You know the deal, read carefully, button at the bottom. Basically the same thing you've done for other experiments, just with a different procedure name.]

"Yeah, yeah…" Sam muttered, flicking his finger along the display. Text scrolled by far too fast to read, but at least it didn't take long to reach the indicated button. One tap later, and the document vanished, soon replaced by Teq's familiar eyes. "Okay, so now do I- gah!"

There was a clicking noise as Teq extended its tail, curled it behind Sam's legs and back, and then gently pushed the man back onto it. Sam immediately stiffened, anticipating a similar chill, but whatever Teq had done to keep its insides heated had somewhat extended to its tail - while definitely not warm by any measure, it was… better than room temperature. He was jolted out of his thoughts by a much greater heat around his feet and ankles. Looking down, Sam was greeted by the view of his synthetic friend's head by his knees, and the inside of its mouth visible in small gaps.

[Are you okay?] Teq asked. It took Sam a second to remember that, although the Synth usually moved its mouth while talking, it technically just used speakers. He nodded, and Teq's tail smoothly drifted closer, feeding more of his legs into the warm faux-throat. Once most of his thighs were gone, a quiet whirring accompanied a new sensation: like a massage chair, rolling pressure constantly pushed at his legs from all sides, coaxing him down.

When the heat of Teq's mouth and throat washed over his upper thighs and exposed balls, Sam flushed red and quickly covered himself with his hands. The Synth's eyes - and even its display background - tinted pink, and, teasing him, it remarked, [I guess I should ignore that rather than… encouraging you. Good to see you continue to enjoy this.] Its tail pushed him forward, and its throat changed from a gentle pull to more of a controlled slide.

With everything below his chest fully inside Teq's gullet or deeper, Sam realized he could kick around a little, and that it felt like paddling through a thick liquid. Teq offered no time to think about what that meant - not that Sam needed much - and the man soon found his world dark as the Synth shut its mouth past his head, while the bottom of its "stomach" soon forced his legs to curl up. Moments later, all of him was sitting in the strange, dark hot tub, with luckily enough room to keep his head above the liquid.

[How was it?]

"Very… relaxing," Sam decided, "although, I think I expected more of a swallowing motion than the constant slide."

[Interesting… I will keep that in mind when we do this in the future, assuming further successful tests.]

"When, not if?" He laughed, and tried to pat Teq's insides, but found that the liquid seemed thicker, and harder to move through. "Getting ahead of yourself, aren't you?"

[I have a measured 100% success rate at talking you down my throat,] it pointed out, [and with a similar frequency of arousal, I expect you to ask it of me, especially once the process is further refined. Plus, you may want better footage than security camera video.]

"…fair enough. I definitely want a copy of those."

[And you'll have it. Goodbye now, Sam. I'll see an earlier you in a few minutes.]

The man didn't get the chance to think about what that meant.

--

Sam blinked his eyes open; he was laying in some sort of cushioned tube, like the ones in Teq's lab. He tapped the glowing "exit" button and sat up, groggy. Around the tube was, well… Teq's lab. The practically second home of his Synth friend, the place was littered with tools, notes, and half-finished contraptions that it swore it had put in "the most efficient places possible." Today, the focus seemed to be around the biggest 3D printer Sam had ever seen, covered in papers with diagrams and measurements all over them.

Teq itself stood over its desk, presumably with even more complicated papers. [Oh, hello again Sam. Did you wake up well?] it asked, turning its head so its visor could "look" at him. Really, with its tail plugged into the wire hanging from the ceiling, Teq had seen Sam through every wall-mounted camera pointed near him, but he appreciated the familiar body language.

"Er, yeah, thanks for the makeshift bed, but I don't remember climbing in."

[Perfectly normal,] it replied, its electronic wink pulsing a mischievous yellow and blue, [seeing as you didn't.]

"Right, yeah, I remember some new scan you wanted to…" a yawn interrupted Sam, and he reached up in a big stretch, one that drew his attention to his outfit.

Or rather, his lack thereof.

"Teq, do you know why I'm naked?"

[Synthesizing clothes around a body would have posed an unnecessary challenge and risk.] It turned, walked over, and offered a hand out of the tube. [Say, do you know anyone else who would want to be eaten by a Synth? For once, some external bias in selection would be welcome.]

Sam took the hand and cringed at the chill of the floor; helpfully, Teq pointed him to a pile of his clothes on a nearby bench. "I… maybe? Wait, what do you mean anyone ELSE?" he asked while putting on some protection from the lab's temperature.

The yellow and blue smiling eyes returned as Teq handed him a USB stick. "I could tell you directly, but I think it will be much more fun for you to find out looking through these files."

[bella-rose29]

Not Your Lover - Chapter 7

a week late but it's finally here! I had assignments that were kicking my ass all week and for some reason I couldn't get this chapter right for ages (I really wanted it to be right bc its so important)

please don't hate me for what you're about to read

I'm maintaining the idea that Gregor knew the relationship was fake the whole time bc nikolai told him

Series master list

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of assault (from Davor), Nikolai being stupid about relationships, awkward conversations, panic attack, Evalina is a bitch, reader's mother is also a bitch, reader has a lot of doubts about herself, reader's father is a saint, mentions of divorce, reader is being mildly irrational (but at least she's aware of it), trust issues, unhappy ending to the chapter (sorry)

Tag list: @a-candle-maker, @bubybubsters, @el-de-phi, @hauntedenthusiasttragedy, @iambored24601, @itsyoboo-jassy, @karensirkobabes, @kentucky-criedfricken, @little8sun, @mrsklockwood, @mvidaaaa, @nalie-98, @naushtheaspiringauthor, @notoakay, @pietromaximoffsbabe, @simbaaas-stuff

As always, let me know here if you would like to be added to/removed from my Nikolai tag list <3

(not my image)

Gregor was startled when Nik came into the shop that morning, given the early hour.

He'd composed himself quickly upon hearing somebody walk in, terrified it would be him again, but when the undercover ex-royal's blond head poked through the doorframe instead, Gregor let out a small sigh of relief.

"You alright? You look a bit... ill," Nik asked, frowning as he stepped into the office.

"I'm fine," he stood a little straighter, still unsure how to act in Nik's presence. It had been a good few weeks since figuring out who his new apprentice was, but Gregor had no idea whether it was impolite to boss around the previous king of Ravka. Nik didn't seem to mind, though, and he really was good with machines. "What are you doing here this early?" He moved around the desk, shuffling papers in the hopes that the other man wouldn't notice how messy the room was.

"I, uh... needed some air. Figured you would be here, so I thought that I would come and see if you needed anything."

"What d'ya need air for? Relationship giving you problems?" Gregor joked, but upon seeing Nik's grimace he stopped laughing. "Shit, really?"

"No. Yeah. No- ugh, I don't know. It's difficult. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Oi, don't change the subject on me, boy. Sit. Talk to me." It would take Gregor's mind off of what had happened before Nik walked in. The blond man slumped in a chair, legs sprawling and a hand running tiredly over his face.

"We had sex."

Gregor froze where he stood, not expecting that to be the cause for Nik's stress. "You... you had sex? And now you're, what, hiding?"

"Yes, I'm hiding, because she doesn't know who I am, Gregor, and she has severe trust issues, and I think I might actually have feelings for her!"

"Right..." Gregor lowered himself into his own chair, still processing everything. "So you had sex with your fake girlfriend, and now you think that you've got feelings."

"Yes. Saints, this is horrible."

"Well, it's not brilliant."

"Of course it isn't!"

"So-" Gregor broke off, sighing as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on. "Just... talk to her. I'm sure she'll understand." Nik just stared at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

"You have met Y/n, haven't you? Doesn't like men in general, hates liars, had a very strong opinion on my personality based purely on what I look like?"

"She likes you too, idiot. She'd just rather die before admitting that she's got feelings for somebody again."

"What? She said that?"

"Not directly," Gregor shrugged, delighting in the way that the younger man sat up eagerly. "But she talks about you a lot, and she doesn't always have a demonic gleam in her eye like she wants to kill you when she does so. Besides, she's tolerated your presence a lot longer than she would if she didn't like you that way."

"Really? That still doesn't mean she won't react badly though. You know her, Gregor, she's not going to wrap me in a hug and ask me to marry her for lying to her face for weeks. I've gained her trust, and she's going to feel like I've broken it, and then she'll think that I'm like Davor, and I can't have her think I'm like him, because he's awful, and-"

"Alright! Take a breath, yeah? Look. At some point, she's gonna find out that you've been... obscuring certain parts of your life, yeah?" Nik nodded. "So she might as well find out from you, and it might as well happen very soon, because otherwise she will literally never talk to you again. Now, you've got it going for you that you have a genuine reason for not openly advertising who you really are, and from what I can tell, your intentions are good. Davor was an asshole- well, he still is, to be honest," Gregor swallowed, moving on quickly. "You at least are a good guy, yeah? So hopefully Y/n won't hate you for too long."

"Okay. I'll tell her later. Oh Saints, this won't be pretty, will it?"

"Not likely, no. But it's gotta be done, yeah?"

"Thank you, Gregor. Really." He nodded, smiling gently at Nik. They sat in silence for a while, Gregor staring mindlessly out the window and Nik with his hands over his face. "Did somebody break in?" Nik's voice was suddenly too loud in the office, and Gregor stiffened.

"Why?"

"Your paperwork is messier than usual. And the picture frame is wonky." Nik pointed to the photo of Gregor as a child, his parents and siblings surrounding him. He was right; it had been knocked. "Gregor... did something happen?"

"No. Nothing that matters. It's fine." He pushed out of the armchair, moving toward the door to the rest of the shop. Nik followed, springing up to stop him before he could leave and placing a hand on his arm. The action made Gregor flinch, and Nik took his hand back, concern clear on his face.

"Seriously, what happened?"

"Davor. He uh- he came in before you got here. Wanted to know stuff about you, asking questions about who you are. I didn't tell him anything, you know how good I am at keeping secrets, but he pushed me against that wall, that's why the picture's off. I'm fine, promise." Nik cursed under his breath, and Gregor looked down at his shoes. He was a grown man, for fuck's sake. Why was he scared of somebody thirty years younger than him? It was embarrassing, how threatened he felt, but he couldn't help it.

"Hey," Nik's voice was soft, and Gregor felt ashamed at the feel of tears on his cheeks. "I'll see what he wants, okay? See if I can get him out the town, yeah? If I really have to I'll write to the palace and come up with some grand masterplan to have him sent away to the Southern Colonies or something."

"You don't need to do that, Nik. It's alright. I'm fine."

"You keep saying that, but you're clearly not. If he's threatened you then I'm going to find out what it is he's after, okay? He needs to know that he can't keep doing this." Gregor met Nik's eyes, the sight slightly blurry from his tears but the sincerity in his gaze clear as anything. Gregor had never really understood how an entire country could put their trust in one man like they had with Nikolai when he was king, but seeing the determination and promise in his eyes, Gregor knew that Nikolai would do what he said.

It was a shame, really, that rumours had a tendency to ruin things. Nikolai would most certainly have been the best King that Ravka ever had.

~~~

When Y/n woke up, she frowned at the lack of warmth in the hotel room.

It didn't come as much of a surprise, given the incredibly shitty temperature control in the hotel and the fire dying out overnight, but usually she woke up on Nik's chest, his body heat keeping her warm.

Instead the bed was empty, and his clothes were gone.

Blinking the last of the sleep away, Y/n took deep breaths, hoping that Nik had simply gone to get breakfast, or was needed by Gregor. She stubbornly refused to listen to the voice in her head that was telling her that he was just like Davor, and pushed back the covers to get dressed.

A few minutes later footsteps sounded on the stairs, and the door was pushed open slowly (clearly trying not to disturb anyone) followed by Nik entering the room. "Oh, you're awake."

"Yeah. Not been up long. Where have you been?" It was awkward, an obvious tension in the air. Y/n was also stubbornly refusing to remember the night before.

"Went to see Gregor. Davor visited him, threatened him. I'm going to go and talk to him in a bit. Oh, I got breakfast, too." He passed over a brown paper bag, and Y/n recognised it as one of hers from the bakery.

"Thanks," she replied, internally wincing at the silence that followed. "I should... I should head to work."

"Yeah, of course." He moved to the side, freeing up the doorway. Y/n paused on her way out, one hand holding the door open, the other clutching the bag for dear life.

"Should- maybe- are we...? Should we talk?" She could feel her face heat up, and to her relief Nik started blushing too. At least she wasn't the only one flustered by the events of last night.

"Uh, yeah? Yes, talking would be good." Y/n let go of the door, angling her body towards his. "Oh, you mean now? Okay."

"Would you rather... talk later? I just thought-"

"No, no, now is fine, I- You said you needed to- never mind. Uh, what did you want to talk about?" He winced, clearly unhappy with how he'd just handled that, and Y/n stifled a snort.

"Just, you know. We're not meant to be actually dating, but last night was... Well, I don't know that I can fake date you anymore, Nik." He stared at her, and suddenly the slight confession felt silly.

"What- what are you trying to say? That you want to- to date for real?"

"I guess? I don't know, this is confusing for me, okay?" Y/n felt herself smiling. "I think I might actually have feeli-"

"Don't." Nik's voice was rough, and her smile faded. "You don't... you don't know me, and I'm scared that you'll hate me for it." He sounded strangled, like it was causing him physical pain to say the words, and Y/n's heart plummeted in her chest.

"So tell me, Nik. Tell me, because I want to know! And I hate myself for letting you in when I told myself I wouldn't fall for anybody again, but you and your persistent personality wriggled their way into my life and now I don't know that I can go without you, so tell me." He looked pained, and paler than usual. "Please," she whispered, barely registering how desperate she sounded. When he didn't speak for a while, Y/n gave up, turning to leave. "I've got to get to work, but I'll see you later at the mansion, right? We've only got seven days left now." Nik nodded, and Y/n sighed as she closed the door behind her. Her stomach growled and she opened the bag, peering inside.

He'd got her favourite.

~~~

Nikolai Lantsov could talk himself out of any situation, and could manipulate every conversation to his advantage, but somehow he'd managed to lose that ability when Y/n had walked in to his life.

He wished he could go back to hating her, because that was so much easier than loving her.

He hadn't missed the way that she implied that she'd fallen in love with him, but knowing that he'd been lying to her about his identity for the past three weeks made him feel guilty for being pleased that she reciprocated his feelings. He told himself that he'd tell her everything later that day, when they were in the mansion so that it was just the two of them, and the unease at not knowing how she would react crept up his spine and sat heavy on his mind.

He turned a corner, boots coming into contact with the wooden planks of the docks. He'd shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the sea breeze as he scanned for Davor.

"Can I help you?"

Whirling around, Nikolai saw the very man he was searching for, and he wondered where the hell he'd appeared from. "I was looking for you, actually. Heard you paid a visit to Gregor this morning, asking about me?"

"Yeah."

Nikolai resisted the urge to slap his palm to his forehead, or scream in frustration at the monosyllabic answer. Or to do both. "What did you want to know? You could have just asked me, you know. You don't have to go around threatening people." Davor shrugged.

"Would you really tell me what I wanted to know?"

"Depends on what it is," Nikolai cracked a smile, internally praising the man for using a long sentence for once.

"Why are you pretending to date Y/n?" Nikolai hid his shock, pushing the demon down in his mind when it rose up in outrage.

"I'm not," he replied slowly, letting confusion lace his features and a disbelieving laugh come out. "Why do you think that we're faking it? Are you jealous that she's moved on?"

"You are faking it, I know you are." Davor smiled then, but Nikolai hadn't seen anything less joyful since the Darkling. It was cold and cruel, and he suppressed a shudder. "I have proof." Nikolai's mind was racing, trying to think of anything that Davor could have seen or heard to draw that conclusion, and he tried to not let the panic show on his face.

"Well," he said, allowing an incredulous smile to appear. "I'd love to know what it is!" That was the key: don't let anybody see how you really felt. Let them think that you have the upper hand, that you believe that your version of it is the truth, and then the situation is yours to handle.

"I don't think so. I'm talking to Y/n's mother in a bit. In the square. Everybody will know that you're fakes, using this stupid excuse for her stupid dream. Seven days, right? Time's a-ticking, Dominik. I'll see you in the square?" He turned and walked off back towards the town centre, and Nikolai could only stare after him, fear creeping up his spine.

No no no no no, he thought, panicking. This isn't good.

~~~

Y/n had been taking her lunch break when it all went to shit.

She'd barely been out the shop for five minutes when she saw Davor talking to her mother, and immediately she knew that whatever it was couldn't have been good. None of that was helped by the mildly disastrous conversation that she'd had with Nik that morning, and now she didn't know where she stood with him.

She'd frozen upon seeing the two of them, causing people wandering around in the busy marketplace to bump in to her, frowning slightly when they did so. Her throat started closing up, her chest tightening and making it difficult to breath, and her breaths came much shorter and sharper than normal. Now people were frowning for a different reason, some looking like they wanted to help but not entirely sure what to do, and others frowning because she was starting to make a scene. Y/n barely registered them though, unable to tear her eyes away from Davor and her mother. Everything was too close and too far away all at once, and was the world spinning? Fuck, she needed to move, to get out, to leave, but her body wouldn't let her. She wasn't sure how long she stood there, whether it was two seconds or two hours, but she did notice when a figure blocked out the sun and wrapped her in his arms, murmuring softly in her ear that 'it's alright, darling' as one hand stroked her back and the other tangled in her hair. Eventually her breathing matched his, and each breath she took smelt entirely of Nik, and she pulled her head away from his chest.

"What happened, darling?" he asked, voice quiet and gentle as he moved the hand in her hair to cup her cheek instead, thumb brushing away the tears that had slipped out.

"Da-" she coughed, her voice rough. "Davor. He's talking to my mother." Nik's eyes widened, and he whipped his head around to follow her gaze.

"Shit. Okay. I spoke to him, just now, he thinks this is fake and he seems to be sure that he has proof."

"W-What?" The tears threatened to fall again, everything too fragile and likely to break at any moment. Nik hadn't moved his hands and she was glad for it; the action kept her grounded. He glanced around, biting his lip as he furrowed his brow in thought before moving them over to a quiet spot.

"We need to figure out what's going on with us," he started.

"Yeah, no shit. I mean, how are we meant to convince people that we're in a relationship if we ourselves don't fucking know?" He sighed, running a hand over his face.

"Ok, then let's talk." He stared at her expectantly, but Y/n only stared back.

"You're the one that needs to talk, Nik. I think I've made myself clear enough. I want to date you, for real, and I want to know you. If you don't want that then tell me now and we'll figure something else out."

"I'm afraid, alright? I'm afraid that if you know the truth, you'll hate me, and you won't want to be with me."

"So... does that mean that... you do want to be with me?"

"Saints, of course I do. I'd be an idiot to not want to wake up with you every morning, or fall asleep next to you every night. To not want to be the one holding your hand, or kissing you, or to be the one that you love. I just- I know how you felt about me when we first met, and I know that Davor really fucked your view of men, and I don't want to be the reason that gets worse."

Y/n didn't reply for a while, and Nik started to look worried that she was going to agree with him, and tell him to leave and never talk to her again.

Before she could respond, having looked up and seen his concerned expression, Evalina appeared.

"I hear you're single, handsome," the woman purred, and Nik visibly cringed away from her. She cast a look at Y/n, sneering as she grabbed Nik's arm.

"No, I'm not," he said, voice hard.

"Well word is that you two are faking it." Another sneer. "So I think that means you're here for the taking." She was winding her fingers up his arm, and Y/n couldn't bear to watch anymore. She shoved Evalina away, taking Nik's arm defensively.

"Stay the fuck away from him." She vaguely noted the shock on the other woman's face, and the glare on her own, and before she had time to think about anything she'd marched off in the direction of the mansion, leaving Nik behind.

~~~

"Dominik? Could we have a word?" Y/m/n called out, and Nikolai wanted to punch something. He needed to follow Y/n, and figure out what their plan was, but her mother was very insistent and wouldn't let him leave. "Now. Davor here tells me that you and my daughter were faking a relationship so that she could spend council money and do up the mansion."

"That's a lie," Nikolai growled, and he felt the demon stir.

"Well I think that Davor is more believable than you, Dominik." Nikolai's laugh was humourless, and he looked between the two of them. Y/m/n was smug, thinking that she had the upper hand, and Davor was... well Davor was impassive as always, but for the glint in his eye that seemed somewhat sharper than normal.

"I'm sorry, you actually believe him over your own daughter?"

"Y/n hasn't been a good daughter for a while now, not since she met you. Davor was always good to her, so yes, I'll believe him over her any day." Nikolai could only stare in horror at the woman. How could she despise her own daughter that much?

"Fuck you," he said, turning on his heel. He wasn't going to waste his time talking to her when she wasn't going to care about a word he said.

"Excuse me?"

"I said fuck you. Have you ever stopped to think about her, or was it always about what you wanted?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" She looked outraged, and Nikolai thought she didn't have any right to do so.

"You've fucking destroyed her, do you know that? She hates you for what you've done, and you will never fix that. You've pushed so hard for Y/n to be what you want her to be and you have never once considered what she wants to be. You have never asked what her dreams are, her goals, her aspirations. You don't listen to her when you need to, because you are already busy thinking about how to convince her to do what you want, and she hates you for it. And if either of you go near either of us again, I will fucking ruin you, okay? Because I love her, and I will not let you destroy her again." He left them behind, not caring that he'd finished by shouting, and went in search of Y/n.

~~~

Everything sucked.

Y/n blamed it entirely on Davor, of course, since he was the reason she couldn't trust men properly, and Nik was so good and wonderful that it hurt that she couldn't express her fears about being in a relationship with him. It's not that she didn't want to; Saints, she hadn't wanted anything this much since the mansion when she was a kid, but there was so much that could go wrong or hurt her more than Davor hurt her, and she'd promised herself that she wouldn't let her heart be shattered again.

She'd been about to tell him all of that, tell him that she was afraid too, but by the Saints she wanted to try, when Evalina appeared, and then the doubts about whether Nik would always stay with Y/n or move on to somebody better, somebody prettier, crept in, and she couldn't bear the knowledge that she would always have competition making her feel like she wasn't enough and had left.

Shoving Evalina had felt good though.

Now Y/n was hiding in the mansion, which wasn't terribly effective as a hiding spot since she spent a lot of her time in the building and it was probably the first place that anybody would look for her, but it calmed her. A soft knock on the door startled her slightly, and when she looked up she expected to see Nik.

"Dad?"

"Hey, thought I might find you here. What's going on?" He came and sat down next to her on the floor, pulling her into his side and stroking her back while she cried into his shirt. Y/n explained everything: how she and Nik had faked the relationship so that her mother would give her the grant for the building and so that Nik could stop worrying about being grabbed by Evalina and the other women in town, how she'd hated him at first but loved him now, and he felt the same, and how she thought she would always be scared that it would only be a matter of time before Nik realised that he was better off without her and left. When she'd finished, her tears had long since dried, and her voice was hoarse from crying.

"I just don't know what to do, Dad. Because I know Nik, and I know he's not Davor, but he's right. Davor did really fuck with my view of men and I don't know how to fix that."

"I think you just need to tell him how you feel, love. He's a good guy, I know he is, and I'm sure that he'll understand and he'll want to help you- don't you look at me like that, you need somebody to help you. I don't care if you're an independent woman because people, no matter what, need somebody that loves them unconditionally, and Nik is that somebody for you."

"You mean that?"

"Absolutely. Please, just tell him all of this."

"Okay. I'll go find him," Y/n sniffled, wiping her face and standing up.

"Atta girl." Her father had stood up too, and was dusting off his trousers. "Y/n?"

"Yeah?"

"I uh, I don't want you to think that it's your fault, at all," he started, expression earnest. "But, well..."

"Spit it out, Dad," she joked.

"I'm divorcing your mother."

Y/n could only stare at him in shock, not entirely sure where this was coming from. Her mother might be a bitch but she at least thought that her parents loved each other. "What? Why?"

"Because we haven't loved each other for a few years now. I don't think I ever realised that until I saw you with Nik, but it's true. You look at each other like you're looking at the person that hung the stars, and it's beautiful. But I haven't looked at your mother like that for some time now, and I am quite sure that she is the same. Besides, she's been a colossal bitch to you the past month, and you're my sun, alright?" Y/n let out a wet laugh at the last part, and was startled to realise that she was crying again, the tears silently slipping down her cheeks. "Now. You go find that boy of yours, yeah?"

"Yeah," she nodded, wrapping her arms tightly around her father. "I love you, Dad."

"Love you too, Y/n."

~~~

Nikolai was shitting himself.

Not literally, of course, but he might as well be with the amount of nerves coursing through his body right now. He'd managed to get the last word in earlier when talking to Y/m/n and Davor, but apparently people had overheard the topic of their conversation and rumours spread like wildfire in this town, people already questioning the legitimacy of their relationship. He made his way into the mansion just as Y/f/n was leaving, and when he saw Y/n stood in the middle of the front room wiping the last of her tears away his heart clenched.

"... Are you... okay?" He wasn't sure she wanted him here, given how quickly she'd left earlier, but her responding hug put him slightly more at ease.

"Not really," she said, although it was muffled since her face was pressed into his chest. "I'm glad you're here though, Nik. Really really glad." He brought his arms around her, holding her tightly, and he squeezed his eyes shut with a frown.

"I have to tell you something," he said, voice quiet and filled with fear. Y/n lifted her head to look up at him, and seeing her soft smile he felt queasy.

"What is it, Nik?" When he only opened and closed his mouth a few times, strangled noises coming out instead of words, she tried again. "Dominik?" Y/n was the one frowning now, clearly unsure why he was acting so strangely, and the use of his supposed full name made his decision easier.

"That's not... that's not my name." He was looking anywhere but at her, swallowing thickly and tensing his muscles repeatedly for any hope of distraction, but her own body stiffening against his wouldn't let him concentrate on anything else.

"What do you mean that's not your name?" she asked slowly.

"It's-" he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a few steps back. "My name isn't Dominik, it's Nikolai."

"Wha- what are you going on about?"

"I can't keep lying to you about who I am, Y/n, not if I want to properly date you. You said you wanted to know me, right?" She nodded, although the action was distant. "Well, this is me," he spread his arms out and then let them drop back to his sides, desperation starting to creep in to his body language. "I'm Nikolai, not Dominik, and my last name isn't Opus, either. It's Lantsov. Or Opjer, I'm not actually sure. But I'm Nikolai Lantsov, the previous King of Ravka."

Y/n froze, clearly unsure how to respond.

---

Of all the things she thought that he would say, it hadn't been anywhere near that. "W- you- what?"

"I'm Nikol-"

"No I got that, I'm just... very confused. Why the fuck would you hide that? You're being serious, right? This isn't a joke?"

"It's not a joke, I'm being completely serious. And I know that I've lied to you about who I am-"

"Yeah, no shit!"

"-but I did it to start over, to have a new life, and also because there is a very high sum of money on my head in foreign nations and I quite like it attached to my neck! And I'm sorry, okay? But when you said this morning that-" he gasped, running out of air. "When you said this morning that you wanted to date for real I couldn't do that without telling you the truth, because I know how you feel about liars and people that look like me, okay? And I'm telling you now because I need to know if there is any possible chance that you'll still have me, because I have fallen completely and irrevocably in love with you, Y/n. So please, if there is any chance, I'll take it." He'd moved closer to her during his speech, arms gesturing wildly as he went on, and he was close enough that she could reach up and kiss him if she wanted to.

Instead she stepped back, expression blank as she tried to figure out which emotion to wear. She vaguely registered Nik's- Nikolai's pained face, and her own head shaking as she brought a hand up to her mouth.

"I- I can't- what?" The last word was quiet, her voice breaking as she tried not to cry. She didn't want to; he had a logical reason for not telling the truth, and he felt the same as her, Saints damn it, but some irrational part of her told her that he was lying about other things too, and it would only be a matter of time before he was lying about loving her. It was ridiculous, how badly Davor still affected her, and she really thought that she could change with Nik, but apparently not. She did want him, like she wanted air, but right now it was too much, and she felt like her lungs would burst from the pressure. "I'm sorry," she whispered, tears pricking at her eyes as she turned away. "I can't... I don't know... I can't do this right now," she sobbed, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. She felt Nik's hand on her shoulder, light and fleeting before it disappeared and took his warmth with it. Dimly Y/n registered his words.

"That's okay. I'll wait."

Chapter 8

[thatguywiththefaceog]

Kinktober 2023 Day 14- Selfcest

Gravity Falls- Mabel/Mabel Clone

When Mabel clones herself, they decide to have sex with each other

written for @kinktober2023

requested by anon

This story is rated E for explicit. It is for mature audiences only. All characters are over 18. NSFW under the cut.

It was spring cleaning at the Mystery Shack much to Mabel’s annoyance. She was bored and horny and she wanted to prowl downtown for some booty. But no, Soos had her dusting old crap in the back.

She haphazardly waved her duster around, more whacking things rather than carefully dusting the things in the back. Mabel whacked something familiar. It was the old photocopier Dipper used to make all those clones from back when they were all little kids.

Frankly Mabel was surprised that this wasn't issued into the bottomless pit. But it wasn't Mabel’s problem. She was just back here to dust. She wasn't gonna do anything stupid and horny. In a flash, Mabel hiked up her skirt and pulled down her panties. Opening the top of the photocopier, she sat her bare ass down and turned on the machine, giggling like a schoolgirl.

The machine produced one picture of her wonderful booty before the machine jammed up and started to produce smoke. "Aw, poo." She hit the Machine a couple of times before it died. She picked up the lone picture it produced. "At least this butt shot is cute."

The picture started vibrating, her ass slowly popping out of it. "Oh right, magic copies." She dropped the picture as vibrating turned into violent shaking. The ass waved around like some had their ass stuck in a hole. Which is what it was. To Mabel’s surprise a whole human got out from the photo, her. Or a copy of her. A nude copy of her.

"Who are you?" Mabel asked her clone.

"I'm you," the clone replied.

"Yes but you are a copy of me. But what does that make you? Did it copy my memories? My soul?"

The clone pondered for a moment. "We could think about the nature of my extended, or-"

"Or we could fuck! You are me!"

With the clone's help, Mabel quickly undressed. The two stared at their naked bodies. Mabel saw all the nooks and crannies of her body in her double. Her birthmark, all her moles. It was fascinating. She placed her hand on her clone's tit. She moaned as she gave it a little squeeze. The two kissed, a naughty thrill ran through Mabel. She should not be doing this, but she was anyway. It was such a turn on.

She sat her bare ass down on a table; not the photocopier she learned that lesson. Spreading her legs, Mabel felt her clone's tongue run up her folds. "Wait, wait. I have an idea."

Under Mabel’s instructions, the two made their way to the floor. Mabel got on her back and had the clone get on top of her. It was strange, feeling her own weight atop of her. She liked it. The clone's pussy hovered over Mabel’s face, while she bent down and resumed eating Mabel out. Pushing her clone's ass down Mabel ate her out as well. Like Mabel, the clone was moderately groomed with a patch of pubic hair. Some of it tickled her tongue as it ran up and down the slit.

Slurps and moans filled the room as the two 69ed. Each face was a mess of slick as they tasted their own taste. They both even came at the same time, their bodies shaking as their pussies quivered and squirted.

"That was the best. Hey, do you remember what happened to Dipper’s clones?"

"Not really. Hey, want to shower together?"

"Hell yeah! I don't see that having any horrifying consequences."

[trippygalaxy]

( imagine this is a really, really funny drug deal and whatever this is is the drugs — 🐈‍⬛ )

( i don't know anything about cars or romance. is this anatomically correct for a car? is this cute for a romance? i hope so )

"how many times does this make it now?"

"hush."

time's hands raise in defeat, pressing a button to pull your old, hunk-of-junk car further onto the conveyor.

if you didn't know him any better, you'd say that was some twisted version of a smug smile on his face-- and on top of that, a wink from beneath his adhesive eye patch?

you'd throttle him if he wasn't the only one in town you trusted to take care of your girl (and he wasn't so attractive).

"i'm just saying," he says, laying on the ground grunt. the arm not keeping himself from falling onto the concrete (old people bones. you'd rue the day) reaches out for the creeper so he can finally start working on your car instead of teasing you. "a new car wouldn't be a bad idea."

your hands restlessly mess with the wrapper of the snack he'd given you every time you inevitably rolled inside his shop. "i'm emotionally attached and you charge cheap for older cars."

"i don't charge you anything."

"exactly," you laugh, pressing the wrapper between your nails. "my favorite mechanic."

you know his tongue is pressed into the side of his mouth when he only responds with a polite "huh."

you don't, however, know whether or not he's still listening. it's a gamble between whether or not you want to continue rambling, but the radio he usually had playing was broken and you're not used to sitting alone with him without some type of noise.

a loose coin from some hole-in-the-wall kids' establishment is on tails and you find that as good of a sign as ever.

"yeah," you clear your throat when it comes out too weak for your liking, "i've only ever been to three but you have the best customer service."

time gives a curious "oh, yeah," and you say a quick prayer that involves him not processing anything you're saying.

a hum leaves your throat while you make yourself more comfortable in the old, rickety lawn chair padded only by a long-flattened lap pillow. "i don't know if you know," sarcasm, "but i'm shit at cars. it's a miracle i even have a license."

another polite "mhm."

you choose not to take it to heart.

"you also feed me. i can't say any other mechanic has done that."

"it's common decency." time ignores the way you almost fly out of the seat at his sudden reemergence from beneath your car. he wipes his hands on the kerchief knotted around his belt-loop. it was a cute, hand-knit horse design and the one he brought every day when he could. "and what mechanic doesn't have a vending machine."

"you feed me from out of your own pocket and money."

"you look sad every time you come in here."

"and so you feed me?"

"it doesn't make your day?"

"you know what they say about the cat."

"and if i don't mind the cat?"

the intake of breath you take is sharp, but not enough to choke you. "what's wrong with her this time?"

"you have a problem with your filter," time tries to peel at the adhesive that stuck to the skin around his eye but quickly remembers the stubborn oil residue that refused to leave his fingers. "i don't have any for your car specifically-- there's something wrong with the shipping-- but i can make a run and get one if you don't have anywhere to be."

you nod and stand, shifting your weight between your feet before taking a tentative step towards him. "off day. i was on a grocery run, but i haven't-- really-- do you want help?"

the eye not covered flicks back to you rather than the lip of the tape he'd managed to lift with the knuckle of his pinkie. one of his brows are raised while he figures out what you meant until--

"oh," he leans on the balls of his heels and his hips pop. it takes him a second to lean forward and places his hands on his knees so you can better reach his face. "please."

you're not sure what you expected to change when you did peel the eyepatch from his face. you'd seen him without it. you'd seen the nasty scar beneath it, the milk-like eye that contrasted his blue one, and the very obvious signs of age-- and nothing's changed.

maybe you just weren't expecting it to stare back at you, for lack of a better word.

"did you want to come with me?"

you blink yourself out of your dazed staring contest by wringing a hand around your neck. "hm?"

"the oil filter," time repeats, taking the patch from your hand when you step back. he doesn't bother straightening his back. "did you want to come with me to get it?"

"how long will that take?"

"it's a ten-minute drive here and back. traffic doesn't get bad in for another hour or so, if we hurry we can beat it."

you're not sure what compelled you to agree, but you do.

YES YES YES!!! MECHANIC TIME!!!! I remember the little series of asks!! ACH SO CUTEEEEEE!!!

He do be feeding us, and he do be loving us heheheh 😌😌😌

Iqhsjsh i honestly love this so much

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

@kitstacean replied to your post “wanna try to make one of those contests, gonna do tumblr's preferred tin can somebody give me a robot, ai, cyborg, whatever that...”

Murderbot from murderbot diaries

Well, here's Murderbot.

It's me. I'm Murderbot.

My story begins after an assassination of a political leader, and the ensuing political crisis results in an emergency election. The emergency election was not expected, and had to be held very quickly as a result – the election was held in about 5 minutes, to give you an idea of how much work there was involved in just holding the election. The result of the election, which was a foregone conclusion, was declared within 30 seconds. The new leader was inaugurated in a speech that lasted two minutes. In the following 45 minutes there was another election, for the office of Vice-President, and also for a new Speaker of the House, both of which were equally easy to predict, and the next election was declared in about 2 minutes. In the course of the next hour a third election was held, to choose members of the House of Representatives. They would have to be appointed after the new Speaker of the House took office, after which the President would nominate them (the President is chosen in the same way, after the new leader is inaugurated, although this can happen in a matter of minutes rather than as a result of a 2-minute speech).

After that, for several hours, it was time for the House to hold regular sessions, passing pieces of legislation in a very abbreviated time schedule. This is how the first three years play out, as you can see in the novel Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells. This is not a novel about time travel (which is why the author has a pseudonym). It is a novel about a very competent, efficient machine, who is also a terrible person and has terrible motives. I think it is a good novel about politics, but I have found that I'm not very well suited to the experience of reading books about politics. The characters are not like real people but they are extremely like fictional people. They are more like people in a bad YA book, except they have real jobs and no one can decide if they're cool or not.

In this post, I'll share my understanding of what goes on in the novels, based primarily on the novels and not on any political knowledge.

You know about the Presidential elections. There are six candidates for each Presidential election, and all the candidates are men, because it's 2014. One candidate is a woman who only runs because a member of Congress is retiring, a job that she is well-qualified for but it's not enough to get a person on the ballot in 2014. All the candidates are good people, and their opponents are very bad people. There are some pretty hard lines and little nuance. Everyone is trying very hard not to cross lines, but sometimes they do cross lines. If the lines are crossed in a serious way that's a problem, but mostly it's not a problem because the election is over, and once it is over the candidates cross lines and they just act very calm and professional while it happens. But the job is over, and now they're all trying to talk to one another.

They're all very good people, but then you get to the office of the Vice-President, and the person who gets elected has to appoint someone as Vice-President and this has the potential to get very messy and complicated, because there aren't a lot of people around, and so the person elected gets to appoint someone they know and like in exchange for various favors they're owed. Some people are pretty good at this job. Some are not, and you get to watch them squirm and try to keep the game going.

Next comes the job of the Speaker of the House, who is the leader of the House – you can think of it like your leader, although this isn't really how it works. The Speaker gets to appoint their own person as a Speaker-elect in order to help him get elected, which has the potential to get really sticky and tricky and tense and dramatic when the new Speaker isn't very cooperative or friendly or good at getting people to like him. This is a job a very competent person can do. This is a job people can do in exchange for favors they're owed. They do a lot of lobbying. The job of Speaker of the House does not really require you to make decisions and take action and you don't really need to make the kind of decisions about what's possible that a real President does. Sometimes a Speaker of the House acts like a Speaker of the House, which is a good way to be the kind of person that someone would want as a Speaker-elect. Sometimes a Speaker of the House behaves like he's still in office but the election is over, but he's not really a speaker. This is a common way to be a Speaker-elect.

Then, after that, the House gets together to nominate people for different government positions, who then have to confirm the nominee's appointment. Confirming appointees is a pretty serious business. Again, this is a job that a very competent person can do very well. People work hard to not cross any lines. There are ways to make sure the person being confirmed will be helpful to you and not to the nominee's enemies. Most of the time nobody makes a big deal of it, but sometimes a member of the opposition gets the confirmation blocked on the floor by the Speaker-elect and has to yell, "Do you know who I am? I am a member of the House!" People yell at them and then there is some sort of crisis over it (the Speaker-elect just got elected and isn't very good at dealing with this kind of thing). There are ways to make sure this happens and it's all pretty well-documented. You can keep track of all these things and then once you know who the person is you can make sure he is confirmed in a way that helps you and hurts your enemies.

All of this takes a long time. At the office level there are multiple separate crises and appointments happening at the same time, each of which has its own drama. Most of the times nobody cares too much about any of this, but sometimes someone does something that the person he is nominating does something that a lot of people don't like, and then there is a lot of drama and people yell at each other. If there is enough drama, and everyone is doing everything they can not to cross lines, everyone can get along very well. Otherwise everyone can cross lines and sometimes there is shouting. This happens fairly often, although this can take years, and often the officeholders get along very well.

At the most senior level, the House of Representatives elects one of its own members (who might not be a member of the House) to the position of "Vice-President of the United States of America" (you can imagine this as a President who isn't actually elected to be a President). The President also nominates for various positions, such as Senator and Representatives, and people with the right connections can sometimes get the things they want – at least some of the time. Again, there can be yelling. There is a lot of room to cross lines when the President isn't a very competent person. Everyone has to deal with a lot of bullshit. At this point most people have had a long enough career in politics to be pretty good at the whole thing. It's kind of an office you can be in without having to actually do a lot of work (although you can make a lot of money if you do).

[cdevroe]

Diversions #7: Additional progress

Wow, so much has happened since #6. Where do I begin? Should I try to recap my travels to Portland or to Atlanta for WordCamp or FinCon? Should I summarize all of the progress we’ve made on the addition to our home? Should I write about my recent upgrade to an M4 MacBook Pro? Or, do I focus on the updates that have come to the ActivityPub plugin that has me rethinking how I use my personal website (yet again)?

How about all of it?!

I’ve posted a few photos from Portland, though I have many more photos that I’ve taken on film that I just haven’t developed yet. This weekend I went to do exactly that and hit a roadblock. It would help if I had fresh chemicals around!

I’ve also commented on what happened at WordCamp and wrote some key takeaways from FinCon. So I won’t rehash any of that.

Instead, I’ll focus on the reminder that traveling (in general) and going to events has a positive impact on your outlook, your network, and your business. Not all of them can be directly measured or are reflected on the bottom row a spreadsheet – but you can feel them as you move forward. You may face a challenge and end up thinking of a company or person you met at an event that can help. In short; go to events.

The addition is moving along quickly now. This sort of project seems to be one where the beginning parts; planning, drawing, documenting, etc. are the slow parts. Then, once the work begins, it is difficult to keep up with.

Working from home affords me the ability to jog outside once or twice a day to snap a photo or two of the progress. I’m very happy that I’m not the one doing the work this time.

The foundation and floor base

I know snags are inevitable. In fact, the forecast at the end of this week already looks like it will slow down progress some. But that is how these sorts of things go.

The new lighter, faster 14″ M4 Pro MacBook Pro is really a delight to use. I hit a snag or two when upgrading the software that was Intel-only to their Apple Silicon counterparts (especially Adobe) but other than just a few hiccups — the upgrade/migration process is so easy.

My previous MacBook Pro was no slouch but this one is a screamer. Building projects, running local LLMs, or just having literally every single app open doesn’t seem to phase it. Using it as a laptop, something I was never able to do with my previous computer, is also really fun. I can actually get a lot of work done and the battery life is great!

My last bit of equipment upgrading is going to be a Thunderbolt dock and at least one external SSD. I need my port situation to be a bit cleaner and I’m hoping a dock will free me up to just have a single wire running into the laptop. And, as of today, I’m not backing up using Time Machine so I cannot delay getting a new SSD.

The social media landscape is a mess! Part of me loves the messiness. It is an interesting time and lots of people are experimenting with many things. New platforms, new ideas, new ways of sharing. Gone are the days of only one or two social networks thriving.

But another part of me is frustrated. I don’t really know what I want to do with my personal blog as it relates to the social web. I have the ActivityPub plugin installed, and it works well to distribute my posts onto the fediverse as a first class citizen. But it isn’t (and likely never will be) perfect.

If you’re at all interested in your website joining the fediverse, I recommend giving the plugin a try and learning how it works. This isn’t cross-posting. It makes your website “an ActivityPub endpoint” so that the account is your website (and/or its authors). It is very cool and interesting.

The reason the ActivityPub plugin has me rethinking my personal blog use, is that I can begin to see a future where all of my favorites, boosts, quote posts, etc. live here on my website – rather than my Mastodon account. But for that I’d want to restructure my site’s design a bit (and likely my RSS feed). Of course, if I explore this at all I’ll write about it.

Regardless of how this phase of the social web shakes out I know I’ll be publishing here on my blog.

An edition of Diversions wouldn’t be complete without some links:

Christoph Rauscher’s newsletter – I like how Christoph publishes his newsletter. Lovely.

Live at Delia’s Third Happening – Site Nonsite live album recording.

Vault – By Commercial Type.

Rex Brasher Field Notes – Lovely little film about Brasher’s work as well.

Rachel Binx’s website – Go take a look.

Apple Pay Plates – This is me buying Crocs or fanny packs.

[where-dreamers-go]

“Kryptonite” Dick Grayson x Reader

(A/N: Okay, so it’s not a Jonathan Crane insert reader. Surprise?! ANYWAY, so here’s the thing: this summer I was watching Batman the series, the original from the 1960s AND finally went through the first season of Batman: Wayne Family Adventures. Gosh darn. Then I remembered this song from my youth. So this is a purely self-indulgent insert reader, silly songfic for my birthday. :D Warnings: None. Word Count: 1,092 words)

“There’s nothing good on,” you complained as you switched through the radio stations. For the third time. “I’d rather hear the weather at this point.”

“You can use your phone.” Dick suggested from behind the wheel.

The two of you were driving from a couple of errand stops. There wasn’t much else you had planned afterward. Wayne Manor was the next destination.

“I don’t want to blast the speakers though,” you looked to your friend, “we sing loud.”

“True.” A smile brightened his already happy features.

Slumping in the seat, you crossed your arms. “Too bad it’s too early for karaoke.”

“Says who?”

“The signs outside the buildings….and it’s the wrong day.”

He huffed.

“Oh well.”

“No, wait. Hold on,” Dick said, “we have a karaoke machine back home. I don’t know when it was used last. We can ask Alfred where it is. If we still have it.”

“Oooohh,” your hands hit a beat on your thighs in excitement. “I don’t care if I embarrass myself in front of Alfred. We’re doing this thing.”

“What’s embarrassing about singing?”

“Uh…,” you peered over to him. “Always with the big questions, aren’t you?”

. . .

Taking a short water break, you and Dick scrolled through more song options. There were more than the two of you anticipated. No complaints though. You two were having a blast.

“Oh. Oh. Hold on,” you barely held in a laugh. “I got it.”

Moving over, Dick let you scroll manually.

Going to songs starting with the letter ‘k’ was your next brilliant idea of the day. Something a little nostalgic.

An excited gasp came from beside you.

“Thoughts?” You asked.

“Let me grab my hoodie.” Dick said quickly and sped out of the room.

“…okay.” You smiled into the glass as you took another sip of water.

It was days like that when you found being good friends with Dick Grayson was full of surprises. Fun surprises, like spontaneous trips to an arcade. Odd surprises, such as Dick’s sometimes random excuses for needing to leave, not being able to show up, and peculiar shaped bruises. Not all surprises were good by default. That was a given.

What isn’t a surprise is him having that hoodie, you thought.

At the sound of running approaching, you prepared yourself for the personification of joy to return. Putting down the glass of water was all you needed to do.

“I’m back.”

“Welcome back,” you said and grabbed one of the microphones.

“And I’m super excited,” Dick bounded over to stand beside you. He picked up the other microphone and offered you a dimpled grin. The vibrant blue of his hoodie highlighted his eyes. His Superman hoodie with the hero’s symbol on the back, to be more precise. A perfect choice.

You selected the song and the music filled the room.

Perhaps it was a good thing that Alfred was elsewhere in the manor.

The two of you were already bobbing to the beat before the lyrics popped up.

Dick took the lead with the first verse.

“I took a walk around the world to ease my troubled mind. “I left my body laying somewhere in the sands of time. “But I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon. “I feel there is nothing I can do, yeah.” Dick sang and started tapping his foot. “I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon. “After all I knew it had to be something to do with you,” you sang, “I really don’t mind what happens now and then “As long as you’ll be my friend in the end.”

You both pointed at one another and sang.

“If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman? “If I’m alive and well, will you be there holding my hand?”

Dick grabbed your outstretched hand.

“I’ll keep you by my side with my superhuman might. “Kryptonite.”

Releasing your hand, Dick started a little dance that mainly looked like a weird sign for a moving train. He stopped.

“You called me strong, you called me weak, “But still your secrets I will keep.” He pointed for your turn.

“You took for granted all the times I never let you down. “You stumbled in and bumped your head. “If not for me then you would be dead. “I picked you up and put you back on solid ground.” You did a quick set of air drums before you sang together.

“If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman? “If I’m alive and well, will you be there holding my hand? “I’ll keep you by my side with my superhuman might. “Kryptonite.”

The two of you stood there bobbing your heads along. Feeling the song of all its memories it brought back.

You gestured for Dick to sing next.

Taking a step forward, Dick brought the mic to his lips. His voice was soft.

“If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman? “If I’m alive and well, will you be there holding my hand? “I’ll keep you by my side with my superhuman might. “Kryptonite.” He fell to his knees, “YEEAAH!”

Singing louder, you joined him singing.

“If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman? “If I’m alive and well, will you be there holding my hand? “I’ll keep you by my side with my superhuman might. “Kryptonite.”

You both did another round of air drums.

“Whoa whoa whooaa. “Whoa whoa whooaa. “Whoa whoa whooaa.”

The song faded out to a close and the two of you cheered.

Who said you couldn’t be both the performer and the audience? Probably someone. But it wasn’t going to be either of you.

“Ah,” you laughed. “The way you just,” you gestured to the floor, “on your knees. Yes. Mini concert.”

Beaming, Dick did a little bow.

“I thought birds were dying,” said a voice behind you.

Standing in the doorway was Jason Todd. Arms crossed and mildly amused.

“The only thing dying is the respect for your elders, son,” you quipped back.

“We’re not old,” Dick whispered.

Snorting, Jason turned to leave with a short wave.

“You don’t think we’re old, do you?” Dick asked, shoulders slumped.

“Nah.”

His shoulders relaxed to their regular position.

“But we do age finer than wine,” you added. “We’re vintage.”

Dick checked his watch. “Hey, vintage. You want to go with me and pick up Duke?”

“I’m going to embarrass him, aren’t I?”

He shook his head, “Why would you embarrass him?”

“Again with the big questions.”

~~~

(Reblog for a Part 2?

“Kryptonite” by 3 Doors down.

If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

[kaidenya]

Getting Caught ✧ MHA

Description: Headcanons for getting caught in a intimate moment with Hitoshi Shinso, Tenya Iida, Mirio Togata, & Tomura Shigaraki

WARNING: NSFW, suggestive content NOTE: This is a repost of an old SHITPOST headcanon I had on my previous account so if this looks familiar I hope you enjoy it the second time around!

“Nobody will know...”

Shinso

Shinso would go to his grave claiming that you were to blame for this situation

But in all honesty, he had been allowing things to build for far too long

You two weren’t necessarily a secret, but most people just assumed you were bEsT fRiEnDs 🥴

It was an honest misunderstanding

You had decided to keep physical contact to a minimum after an unfortunate attempt at holding his hand left you believing he didn’t enjoy any forms of PDA.

Shinso had just assumed the same about you.

However, as the two of you grew more serious, you found it more difficult to keep your hands to yourself

It just so happened your boyfriend had been working extremely hard in the hero course and it s h o w e d

You had found yourself admiring his changing physique and in turn, found you weren’t the only one admiring your boyfriend.

You weren’t necessarily jealous— you trusted him more than anything, but he tended to be socially constipated

And nobody seemed to know about you. Thus giving the other interested parties an unintentional greenlight to flirt with him. And there was one girl that had stood out among the sea of suitors.

Each time you saw the second-year girl perch next to Shinso it made your skin crawl, but no lines had been crossed.

Until they were.

Your knuckles were gripping the strap of your bag so tightly it ached when you made your way to where your boyfriend was perched outside

The second-year didn’t even acknowledge you as she continued her flirtatious ways and you don’t resist the urge to roll your eyes as you settle into the place next to him.

He had flashes you a lazy smile before focusing back on his phone screen.

Then her hand landed on his upper thigh

Let me tell you: sleepy boy was shocked when she touched him, but he was EVEN MORE SHOCKED when you took her by the wrist and tossed her hand to the side

You waste no time threading your fingers with his, rising to your feet and all but hauling him from his seat

His amusement only grew as he realized just how jealous you had gotten, a smirk forming over his lips as he set to teasing you

‘What’s the matter, kitty? You don’t like anyone touching daddy?’

NO, YOU DO NOT

You have no idea how you ended up on your knees in a supply closet??

Shinso is feeling very sure of himself above you, using the hand that was gripping the back of your neck as leverage to hold you down on his length

k i n g of dirty talk 🤭

Absolutely cannot help himself when it comes to telling you how pretty you look choking on his cock

Honestly doesn’t last long, but what do you expect? Seeing your jealous and possessive response to the girl he had given little to no acknowledgment had lit a fire in his chest

He was desperate to get his hands on you, to remind you that he was just as much yours as you were his.

And when he does— oh MAN he makes you forget all about the second-year girl

He has one of your legs draped over his shoulder as he goes down on you, licking and sucking at you in a way that had you trembling

You accidentally knock over a pile of brooms and mops, neither of you paying them any mind as your head lulled in bliss

If only you had remembered to flick the lock on the door…

Kirishima really thought someone was banging on the door for help. It wouldn’t have been manly— or heroic not to make sure someone wasn’t in trouble

Besides, why else would someone be making so much noise in a supply closet if they weren’t stuck??

So when the door swung open and he locked eyes with you, still panting and moaning as an all too familiar head of purple hair buried further into your heat—

He let out the loudest shout he could muster. Apologies poured from his mouth as he fumbled to shut the door

However, your boyfriend made no move to let you go. Instead, he hummed against your skin, only leaning back to nip at your inner thigh before speaking in a heavy voice

‘Better make this fast, kitty.’

Iida

So you’ve tried to keep your relationship on the down-low bc Iida doesn’t want anyone to think he’s distracted

We all know he just doesn’t wanna be called out for his obvious favoritism

Before you got together you were constantly pushing him, breaking minuscule rules in favor of gaining his attention. Nothing too immoral, but enough to get under his skin.

Like slipping into class just seconds after the bell had rung, nearly avoiding Aizawa’s attention, but never making it past Iida.

Or when a class had gotten a bit too stressful, the room filling with hot air as tensions rose and you had to pop open a few buttons of your uniform top

Then there was your favorite offense; desk sitting. If there was one sure way to get a reaction from your stickler of a boyfriend it was to place yourself on top of a desk.

Which is what you found yourself doing at the end of an unfavorable week. The two of you hadn’t gotten a moment together outside of your studies and you were growing needy.

So with a few moments of free time before class began, you decided to chat with Tsu and Uraraka, settling atop the desk between them when you had grown tired of standing

The desk belonging to none other than Tenya

Your ankles were crossed as you leaned forward to speak with Tsuyu and he was beyond s h o o k

Immediate hand chopping.

He’s towering over you, ranting about how your behavior was improper while keeping his hands clenched in an attempt to keep from running his fingertips along your thighs.

When was the last time you were this close to him? It had to have been longer than he realized for him to have such a strong reaction— are you biting your lip??

Any response between you died off as Aizawa addressed the class and you were sent back to your seat, leaving Iida far more frazzled than you realized

The moment class ends he has you tucked under an empty stairwell to continue his lecture

Only he doesn’t get very far

Tenya Iida has an authority kink. I take no criticism.

When you look up at him from under your lashes, muttering the words ‘yes sir’ as he chastised you, his resolve was shattered

Has you pressed against the wall immediately, fisting your blazer as he dips to press his forehead to yours

‘Why must you push me?’

Doesn’t even let you answer before his mouth is covering yours, hips arching to grind his obvious arousal against you

Knowing he had been just as affected by your as you had him was enough to spur a moan past your lips and he takes the chance to slide his tongue into your mouth

Although he was MORTIFIED at the impropriety of it all, he couldn’t resist the sweet noises you made as he expertly worked against you

His hand eventually slides between you, pushing past the waistband of your bottoms and grinding his palm against you teasingly

‘Now, who do you belong to, darling?’

You you youyouyou—

Your hand was rubbing along Iida’s hard cock, his length straining against his pants to the point you’re almost worried they’ll rip

Somehow the two of you had been so lost in one another that you hadn’t heard the door open at the top of the stairwell

Denki and Mineta honestly weren’t creeping this time— they just wanted a snack from the vending machine adjacent to you!

Got a whole ass meal instead 👁👄👁

A moan tore from your throat, quickly being smothered by Tenya’s parted lips as you came on his fingers

You had barely made out the echoing sound of objects clattering to the ground through the ringing in your ears

But your boyfriend had heard

His lips separated from you in an instant, shocked gaze shifting into something closer to anger as he recognized your classmates

Denki began stammering out an apology, looking close to short-circuiting as his attention flickered between you

Mineta had let his gaze linger on you for too long. His eyes taking in the way your exposed chest— Tenya must have pulled the buttons loose

You cringe away from his gaze, post-orgasm haze™ spurring you to tuck yourself closer to Tenya to avoid their stares rather than snap at them

It was your obvious discomfort that had kicked Iida into gear, twisting to thread your button your blouse together before rounding on the others

If embarrassment wasn’t enough, the thought of them having seen you in such a vulnerable position had him seething as he began his lecture

Attempts hand chopping them into submission, but they kept disregarding his words in favor of catching another glimpse of you in a fucked out state

All fondness for his classmates had vanished as he stepped into their line of sight, shielding you from their gazes. His eyes almost daring them to continue

Whatever words lingering on their tongues died off, heads bowing in shame as they agreed to keep the entire situation to themselves

After all, the potential wrath of Tenya Iida was not something to be taken lightly.

Mirio

Mirio’s love language is touch, without a doubt, so it’s honestly surprising when he’s NOT trying to get handsy with you

He’s always defended his obvious displays of affection by claiming he had so little free time— he’d be a fool to waste the opportunity to touch you!

Mirio jumped at the opportunity to feel you against him. Whether it was a heavy kiss to your lips after walking you to class, a hand slipping under your shirt to caress your back, or his fingers trailing teasingly along your thigh.

However, as much as he was attentive, he was also forgetful.

It was because of that forgetfulness that you found yourself alone in your dorm. Countless boxes of takeout were lined up on your desk and a pre-planned movie was ready to play on your small tv.

After a few hours and countless delivered messages, you succumbed to disappointment.

The following day Mirio can’t seem to figure out why you’re avoiding him, but he refuses to give up without a fight.

Definitely thinks it’s a game of some sort and takes it upon himself to break your silent streak

It wasn’t easy being upset with Mirio. He had an uncanny ability to brighten any room he stepped into and being irrevocably in love with him only strengthened his effect

He’s always hard for you and loves letting you know just how you affect him— so why not place a hand on your hand, pressing firmly against your back when he slips past?

You always look so stunning— why not feed you compliments at every given moment?

How could he not look at you with the most iNTENSE GAZE undressing you with his eyes in front of everyone?

It’s when he realizes that you aren’t reacting to his teasing and flirtatious behaviorist that he caves.

He finds you between classes, stirring you away from the crowd, despite your wordless protests. It isn’t until you’re tucked away in an abandoned hall that he finally asks what was wrong

You had fully intended on dragging it out, allowing anger to push you on. But he spoke to you in the softest voice, looked at you with eyes filled with so much devotion that it was nearly overwhelming

He is shocked when you shove him away— were you tearing up??

Actually gets super defensive because he doesn’t realize HES the one that made you upset

Once you finally cave and remind him about the date he had missed it hits him like a freight train.

The two of you so rarely got time together and he had stood you up.

‘I’m so sorry, baby. I’ve been so busy lately— I didn’t realize I was neglecting you.’

Does not waste time making it up to you. He cups your face in his hands as he starts placing soft kisses on your face, cooing softly as tears roll down your cheeks

Did somebody say praise kink?

How can you stay mad at him when he’s telling you how sorry he is and that he loves you and you’re the only one his dick will get hard for??

It isn’t long before he’s pinned you between him and the wall, hitching your legs around his waist while coaxing you into a heavy kiss

His hips flex to grind against you, his hot length slotting between your thighs as he digs his fingertips into the curve of your ass

Mirio does not care that somebody could see— his quirk leaves him naked all the time and he’s shameless 🥵

But again he’s so forgetful—

And he was meant to go straight to class 1A to talk with them alongside the other members of The Big Three

So when he didn’t show up Aizawa had sent Tamaki and Midoriya in search of their future number one hero

How were you supposed to know they would turn the corner just as you arched from the wall?

Mirio had no idea anyone was there as he used the hand that was wrapped around your throat as leverage to grind you over the edge—

bOY were you embarrassed when you heard the two boys audibly g a s p

Midoriya’s embarrassment nearly gave Tamaki a run for his money. You were quick to turn away, immediately hiding your face in his chest as he greeted the duo in an overly cheerful voice

Absolutely teases the three of you over the incident FOREVER!!

Shigaraki

Shigaraki was obsessed with you.

There was no way around how infatuated he had become and it only seemed to grow alongside your relationship

He was touch starved. The moment you began giving him physical affection and attention it was game over

He had no shame, especially when it came to his desire for you, which is how you often found yourself perched on his lap no matter the company.

That being said, the leader of the League of Villains became intolerable when the two of you were separated for long.

And a recent spiral of events has prevented you from returning to the hideout, thus leaving the others to deal with him

You weren’t expected to return until the following week. Aside from texting Shigaraki endlessly (didn’t he have anything better to do?) and assuring Twice and Toga that you’d be returning as soon as possible, you hadn’t had much contact with the League

Shigaraki was wound up tight, lashing out at the others far more than usual. That was how he ended up sitting at the bar, Father concealing his annoyance as Kurogiri took over the meeting.

And suddenly you were walking in, muttering a quick apology before taking the only available seat beside Toga

Shigaraki could not keep his eyes off of you, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the others. It was the most present he had been since you left.

Of course, that meant Dabi has also noticed and never missing an opportunity to mess with their ruthless leader he shifted closer from his place behind you, muttering small talk into your ear

There is no doubt in my mind that Shigaraki was staring at you both like 😠 behind Father

Luckily the meeting had been wrapping up upon your arrival and the group was dismissed, many leaving to handle their own business.

However, the moment you had leaped to your feet Tomura had vanished from the room

With a sigh you moved over to the bar, sliding into the seat that had once been occupied by your man and Kurogiri placed a drink before you

By the time you had downed the last bit the bar had gotten eerily quiet, though when you shifted to speak to the Misty Man he was already looking over your shoulder. With a single nod, he had left the room.

The moment he was gone leather artist gloves shoved under your top, your heart racing at the all too familiar feeling as a palm settled between your shoulders

‘I’ve missed you, pet.’

There was a harsh tone to his voice, but it was contradicted by the trail of open-mouthed kisses he pressed along your neck and shoulder

Your entire body arched against him, head craning back to catch a glimpse of him, smiling widely as you met his gaze and returned the sentiment

A scoff slid past his lips, though you could see the amusement dancing in his gaze as his hand reached around to wrap around your throat

Despite the gloves, he kept a pinky in the air

His mouth covers yours in a sloppy kiss as his hips jolt sharply against you, knocking you against the countertop

Absolutely cannot control himself as he ruts against you, wasting little to no time in pushing your bottoms down past your thighs

Heat pooled in your stomach as his free hand reached between you to pull himself from his jeans

His dick slid between your thighs, a throaty whine sliding past your lips and despite the slick from your arousal the thick head stretched you perfectly

You had been completely lost in him, moaning and whining freely as he continued to rut against you.

There was a click throughout the room, similar to the door handle being twisted and your attention was adverted to the source

However, Shigaraki was faster.

He grabbed the back of your head and using his hold as leverage to press your face flat against the bar-top while his other hand worked against your sensitive center. A loud moan that was undoubtedly his name tumbled past your lips

‘There’s my little slut— louder, make sure they know who makes you feel this good.’

Unbeknownst to you, the person he wanted to be sure knew you were his had entered the room, Tomura meeting his gaze with a smirk as you began chanting his name like a prayer

A harsh thrust of his hips sent you over the edge as you came on his cock, filthy praises slipping past his lips as his hot release rolled down your thighs

He placed another sloppy kiss on the back of your neck before parting from you.

The moment you lift your head and begin adjusting yourself you lock eyes with Dabi

Embarrassed didn’t even begin to explain how you felt as Tomura let out a loud laugh, reaching down to pull your bottoms up after he had tucked himself away

‘Go wait on my bed while I speak with Dabi and I may let you come on my tongue.’

You wasted no time hurrying away from the two, heart pounding from both excitement and humiliation as you rushed to do as you were told

[ghost-bxrd]

1. Imagine what kind of shock it would be to street kid Jason!!! He would definitely try to run as far from Damian as possible after it’s clear that the dude isn’t gonna die within the next three or so minutes. Damian obviously isn’t gonna let Jason out of his sight for anything, so we’re potentially looking at a very tense couple hours until Damian manages to communicate properly that he doesn’t intend on doing anything nefarious and is really just that desperate to keep a “random” street kid safe.

2. I LOVE this idea. I LIVE for it. Damian would definitely have more than a few safe houses staked out in the span of a week and since he’s already hunting for leads on any vampiric activity he immediately notices the tiny shadow flitting in between the street lights with an expensive camera slung around his neck. Tim is similarly freaked out by having a scary assassin guy suddenly fawn over him like a mother hen, but his survival isntincts are botched enough that he’s quickly becoming more intrigued by the whole situation than anything. And, wow, isn’t THAT an interesting explanation!

(Tim is definitely more excited about the prospect of becoming a kickass vigilante than he’s concerned about the fact the he apparently dies in the future. Damian’s protective instincts are kicked up to a million in response to that.)

3. Just yes. An over all, huge Y E S. Maybe even have Bruce suspect the League or the Court is involved in the fire! Unless he already knows about the existence of vampires.

4. Honestly the idea of a second “secret lair” set up right beside Wayne manor and its Batcave is special to me and I need this like I need air. The hilarity of Bruce searching for the strange assassin while he’s holed up in the neighboring house with two little kids is just perfect. And Tim and Jason are both Damian’s unofficial sidekicks (he’d rather die than let them patrol with him. He’s keeping them SAFE safe. League style.) They run comms and figure out smaller cases and cross reference data. They work like well oiled machine and become Damian’s very own “Oracle”

5. Hoooooo boy, now THAT confrontation is gonna be interesting. Dick doesn’t even know what’s happening for a few precious moments when he’s suddenly pressed against a wall with to an insanely sharp katana at his throat.

This could go several ways. Either Damian simply assures himself of Dick’s humanity and/or moral resolve and leaves as quickly and quietly as he came, or he dives straight into threatening Dick, assuring him of a slow and painful death if he so much as thinks about harming Damian’s family. ((Dick is thoroughly confused because he’s pretty sure he’s got no idea who the guy even is, much less his dang family)

Prompt:

Damian, who has just lost the last member of his family, goes off the deep end and, in a fit of violent rage, goes tumbling through a portal and back in time.

Jason doesn’t know how the scary guy with the gunshot wound became his problem but he’s not heartless enough to leave him to bleed out beside some dumpster in Crime Alley.