#i was planning to stop taking it anyways bc i figured it wasn't helping. well. two months later and i'm having the worst episode i've had

[fo-vescent]

tw // period mention, allusions to suicide + self harm

to my fellow selfshippers with pmdd:

your f/o loves you so much. they would do anything to help you get through any bad periods you might be dealing with.

they would be especially protective of you during this sensitive time of the month. if you asked, they would put away any sharp objects to keep you safe. they would bring out your safety plan, or if you don't have one, they'd help you make one, paying special attention to recognizing your triggers and finding what helps your unbearable mood swings feel more tolerable. personally, it helps me to visualize my future and look at comforting pictures to reinforce those goals, so imagine your f/o doing something like that with you-- if it helps, of course.

they wouldn't feel burdened by your intense emotions. they would try to remain in-tune with how you feel-- at least to the best of their ability. if you track your cycles, they would try to get involved, pointing out when you might start experiencing severe symptoms and helping you plan accordingly. they'd give you attention if you need it, and they'd give you space if that's what you prefer.

if you said something you don't mean, they wouldn't take it personally. they would gently accept your apologies and, if you're like me and you need these reminders, they would reassure you that your dark thoughts, your outbursts, your nightmares-- your symptoms-- do not define you.

on a lighter note, they would supply you with everything you need to satisfy your cravings and soothe your cramps. to them, your pmdd doesn't make you a worse person than any other period-haver. they would be glad to stick with you through the bad and the good. they love every part of you, not just those that they deem "easier to deal with." ♡

(pro/comship please do not interact. non-pmdders are free to reblog, but please do not derail the subject of this post!)

[skribbyposts]

HELLO AGAIN!!1111!!!! based off of @bidisastersanji's post about Sanji not being able to sit like a normal person (its cause hes a homo). i kind of took the hc and ran w it but thats okay hee hee

Also from Law's pov bc i love him so much and i wanted to try!! hope yall enjoy!!!!!!!!&!%@^#&^(!*#^$W yeah

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Law prides himself on being a very observant person.

It seems he wasn't looking hard enough when he made the mistakes that led him here, sulking under an umbrella on the deck of Luffy's ship.

After Dressrosa, Law was never supposed to see his crew again. That plan was thrown out the window by a certain straw-hatted pirate, and now he's hitching a ride to Zou with this absolute circus that is Luffy's crew.

It's been a week since Law came aboard, and the more he looks, things get weirder and weirder. Specifically, their chef.

The first time they met, the man was well-mannered, minus his attitude towards women and cigarette habit. However, Law finds him ever more strange after every interaction they have on the Sunny.

------

The first time Law notices something off is when he happens on Sanji in the galley. He understands being awake in the wee hours of the night, but not like this.

Law finds the man still fully dressed in his three-piece at three in the morning, sitting - no, crouching - on his chair and poring over a cookbook. His cigarette dangles loosely from his mouth as he mutters something unintelligible to himself and brings his knees together to rest his chin on top of them.

What the fuck, Law thinks, and as if the chef heard his internal monologue, a blonde head whips around to face him standing at the door.

Sanji's wide-eyed, slightly disheveled face stares back at him, and his neck is uncomfortably craned so he can look directly at Law. The pair look at each other awkwardly, and after a moment of silence he just...closes the door.

This is not Law's ship. It is none of his business, and he will go back to the men's quarters to sleep.

-----

This keeps happening the longer Law stays on Luffy's ship, and every day he notices how rarely the Sunny's resident cook takes a break. In addition to that, he also can't help but notice exactly how Sanji chooses to rest.

Whether he's chatting with Robin in the library the lawn or napping with the swordsman on the lawn, it's always with one leg up on the seat, both slung over the back of a chair, or contorted into a position that shouldn't be humanly possible.

Law finds it mildly concerning, but no one else on the crew seems to mind when Sanji stops bustling for half a second and decides to perch himself somewhere (not unlike a gargoyle, Law thinks), so he leaves it alone.

---

Once, he spots the chef sleeping on deck with Zoro, but... upside down. As in, the swordsman is leaning on the mast and Sanji is resting his feet on Zoro's shoulders while his back is on the ground. It looks extremely uncomfortable. He also spots Zoro crack open his eye to peer down at the man, before closing it with a very resigned expression on his face and a light dusting of pink on his cheeks.

Again, this is not his ship and Law most certainly does not want to open that can of worms right now. He leaves the two in peace and hopes they figure it out by themselves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ik its not the best but this has been in my drafts for like a week and if i dont post it now im gonna forget about it for like three months so... you guys can have it yeah !! i didn't proofread this either so please lmk if there are mistakes

ANYWAYS Spawned a brand new hc that bc Sanji was locked up for like 5 years he had to teach himself stuff and develops the muscle memory for it wrong and just self-corrects in front of other ppl after learning the right way to do it. i might explore that in a longer fic at a later date, we'll see.

ALSO!!!! by popular demand(read: one person) im gonna start posting on my ao3 soon. you can find it here and all my zosan ficlets will be compiled into a series soon! watch out for that yall

[strqyr]

summer was already upset with raven before the mission had really even begun, meaning that if summer backstabbed raven, it's not bc of anything that happened during the mission.

going back to V4/5 for potential Parallels™, there's... a few options that could apply for that time period:

qrow figures out that raven has the spring maiden and he's very not happy when raven refuses to confirm it & responds to his "without [spring], we're all going to die" with "and which 'we' are you referring to?"

later qrow is very not happy with raven, thinking she's actually, genuinely working for salem—leaving was fine, but that crossed the line.

both cinder and yang are very not happy when they find out that raven killed the previous spring maiden.

out of these, i find point 2 to be the least likely one; the only way i could see it work is if summer thought raven—despite helping her—had actually switched sides and was setting a trap, but it was also a risk summer was willing to take to try and stop salem. (consider: the inner circle having a reason to believe qrow was "compromised" which is never explicitly explained.)

point 1 is compelling bc if the mystery portal takes to the runaway spring maiden, it would fit with how the inner circle handles the maidens—e.g. qrow was planning on attacking the tribe to get spring back, her opinion be damned—and if raven had a portal to spring, well. if summer's secondary goal was to bring spring back to the fold, getting rid of raven ensures that she can't just runaway and disappear again. definitely falls into Moral Grayness™ category which makes it just so much more juicier.

then there's point 3 which is like. also compelling bc i keep thinking about gretchen allegedly dying during a training mission under unknown circumstances & raven claiming to have trained spring, referring to killing her as "mercy" when she wouldn't learn, so. if that is the case and, in contrast to all the "it's not personal"s in V5, whatever issue summer had with raven was personal, if gretchen was spring and known by summer, too, it. it could count as personal, is what i'm saying, and if summer put two and two together... there could have been some payback as motivation. (knowing how old hazel and thus gretchen were vs strq would help create a clearer picture for this one, since "training" implies some seniority—tho pyrrha did help jaune who, similarly to gretchen, wasn't ready to attend beacon—but also: miss "i was sent to beacon to learn how to kill huntsmen :)" <- i wouldn't doubt for a second that someone might have gotten stabbed before strq graduated.)

...anyway. just thinking thoughts out loud.

[dreamlandcreations]

Burnout recovery (?)

It took me a while to figure out why I was so down all the time. But I didn't take the "good news" that well tbh. Because:

"It takes an average time of three months to a year to recover from burnout. "

And I was like. NOPE. FUCK. THAT!

Well, the first few days after that were even worse because I kept pressuring myself to do something, anything other than lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. But even something as so no energy "task" as listening to music was making me... idk how else to say it other than itchy...

Anyway, eventually I just gave up, let it consume me and slept away like 2 days... AND GUESS WHAT? I felt a tiny bit better.

So I'd say the first step is just LET IT ALL FUCKING GO! Turn the nagging in your head off and stop caring about anything else than getting a good rest!

My work drove me insane for the last 3 years or so and tbh it took over my life far, far sooner than that. It wasn't healthy. Letting that go took like 2-3 weeks ( I had "help" from other tortured colleagues 🫶 talking helps!) and a lots of Youtube shorts about "this is business not personal". Yay to scrolling paralysis.

Yeah, and about that. I realised that with the burnout I really burned all the bridges that kept my autistic/adhd traits in check. I mean, I used to have a good balance, now I'm off the scale with both in the worst way.

I think the second step is just trying to stay in that kind of relaxed, "don't care" space while figuring out the reasons why I felt so terrible. Again, Youtube shorts about autism/adhd and work mentality really helped. It was like talking to someone without actually getting myself together enough to open up about this to a "real person" (it never would have happened, you know).

And this is the part from where this might not help anyone who doesn't have adhd (and autism?) but realising that I've become a shell of adhd behaviour was actually a big step. Especially with the adhd/autism traits comparison vids bc I just understood how I was functioning when I was doing all that stuff at once.

The next step(s) I took was trying to take care of myself. Eat, sleep, wash, clean up to feel better in my skin and in my environment. I made it a challenge (chasing dopamine seems to be the only way adhd brain can do stuff). Like I'll put on this song ( I wasn't really listening to it still) and do .... until it's done. It did not help at first. Just getting into a task without thought doesn't work for me. I needed to take a minute and visualise that I'm going to do this and this and this and I'll be done in 3 minutes. I prepared for the task mentally, I hyped myself up then I did it. And it worked. Then I got too much into it and overworked myself 😅

However cliché it sounds, the key is finding balance.

Now I can listen to music, I've read 14 books this year so far and reading 5 others now, and I'm planning my year and thinking about what I want to do in life.

I still have bad moments/days and that's okay. I am still not okay but I'm getting there.

I figured, I need to occupy (not overwhelm!!!) my senses to stop my mind from wandering (and torturing me) so now when I have to do something like dishes, I just put on an audiobook and try to let everything else go.

I still can't watch movies/shows. Which sucks bc I feel like I need visual stimulation too sometimes so idk what's up with that but it's a no for now.

Writing is still a NO! (that's a screaming no in my head). But I started to write down ideas again (something I didn't really do for months)

What I know would improve my health and most likely my mental state is regular exercise, but I'm not there yet. I still regularly skip/forget to eat more than once a day so that's a priority.

It's also difficult to leave the house tbh. The outside world is overwhelming and I don't go out if I don't have to (which is like once a week now).

What I do know is that if you want to do something DO NOT SIT DOWN! You'll never get it done. There's no "in a minute" or tomorrow. If you want it done, do it now.

I'm working on building a structure/routine in my daily schedule that gives me a guide so I wouldn't waste my days but doesn't limit or outright strangle me with too many limitations by being to crowded.

[deanncastiel]

i feel like i need to stop reading fanfic (in particular destiel) cause its making me sad. I’ve never been in a relationship, and probably won’t for a long time. But like I’d like to have whatever destiel have (okay realistically whatever jenmisheel have, cause they’re not fictional).

i get that and if you feel you need to take a break from fanfic or deancas in particular bc you are no longer finding joy in it - or the joy you experience is overshadowed by the sadness - then i think you should, that's totally valid. at the end of the day you need to do what's best for you

nonny you really chose a topic that i have A LOT of thoughts on but they're kinda rambly and get personal so i'm going to put them under the cut.

i also have never been in a relationship and have no real plans of getting into one anytime in the near future??? and that's for a lot of reasons, that could very well differ from yours (but mostly it just sounds exhausting 😅😅😅)

and i also went through a phase years ago where i was getting sad reading fanfic for exactly this reason and had to stop and think about what was best for me in the long run. in the end i decided that i got more joy out of reading fanfic than sadness and so i continued, but it really is something that you have to decide based on your own feelings and what you think you can handle

i'll be honest i haven't read fanfic in a minute bc i started fixating on books, particularly m/m or other queer romance, but still occasionally get moments of sadness bc yeah, finding a person who loves me and to love another person like these couples in these books do (or like jenmisheel do bc yes they are perfection) sounds amazing.

and i've come to a place in my life where, if it (aka a relationship) happens it happens, and if it doesn't it doesn't. and if it gets to the point where the desire for a relationship outweighs my desire to just be independent and by myself, then i'll be open to that life change. but constantly thinking about wanting to be in a relationship and then getting sad when i wasn't in one just, wasn't healthy for me, so it was a lot of soul searching and figuring out what made me happy

anyway idk i guess long story short is, you gotta think about what will make you happy and then.... take steps to achieve that bc... you know we only have one life and... idk about you but i don't want to spend it being miserable and longing for something that i never try to achieve

anyway thank you for coming to my therapy session akjsdf;lksjdf hopefully you found something helpful through all that

[sparrowhero]

could u write something abt shigaraki finding out his crush has a mini crush on eraserhead? 👀

tumblr ate this so you're getting the condensed version. my apologies but if you are upset you need to yell at tumblr hq and be really niceys to me bc i had to write this from scratch TWICE.

ANYWAYS because it's my vision I'm editing this to be more of S1 Shigaraki overthinking your agreement of calling Eraser-head 'cool' post USJ. Reader is implied to be closer in age to Shigaraki and Shigaraki is implied to think that Aizawa may or may not be more than ten years older than he actually is.

HEADCANONS AND DRABBLE UNDER CUT

First of all, he can't exactly blame you because Eraser IS pretty cool. He can't deny what he's said himself: while his quirk is decent, it's the skills that back it up-- He does above and beyond what all of the other fakers claim to do, for nothing but the safety and peace of mind for a few snot-nosed brats who want to become heroes. He's cool. HOWEVER-- him being cool (for a hero) and him being a match for you are two completely different questions. He goes down a full fledged rabbit hole of comparing himself to Aizawa in order to win you back. (or rather, win you over in the first place, but who's counting?)

Where the hell does that old man get off seducing people?! As a matter of fact, what the hell does he have that Shigaraki doesn't? Other than the ability to grow facial hair. (Sorry, but he cannot. It's not happening. Aizawa has been able to grow a beard since he was in high school if we count MHA Vigilantes as canon.)

Is it the hair? His hair is pretty shaggy too, and he could be considered growing it out. Aizawa has more of a curl pattern but they both pay the exact amount of care to their hair: none. He definitely could beat him on that. Sure, Aizawa has a low voice...if you LIKE that sort of thing...but Shigaraki still has a few years left of growing. His voice could deepen by then. The physique? Well...he may be a LITTLE bit shorter, and Eraser does have some muscle hidden underneath those baggy clothes...BUT THOSE THINGS DIDN'T STOP HIM FROM GETTING HIS ASS KICKED!!

He not-so-subtly reminds you that as competent as Eraser was, he also figured out his gimmick and while Eraser himself wasn't able to land a significant blow onto him, he, however, was able to disintegrate part of his arm. PLUS the nomu beat him anyways (he takes credit for that since he brought the nomu along as part of his grand strategy)

"He's not so great." Shigaraki reminds you at the hideout. After the rest of the staff foiled his plans at USJ, he's needed a lot of support due to the bullet wounds in several of his joints, and you graciously help to nurse him back to health. You're in the middle of changing his bandages when he brings this up, and you give him a questioning look because...who the hell is he talking about?? His red eyes meet yours as he looks down at you from his chair. "Eraser-head."

"I'm better for you than he is." His voice is part whisper, part grunt, and almost completely inaudible as he looks away from you. Once again, you ask him to repeat himself because you can't hear him, and he backtracks-- just a little-- in itchy irritation. "I said I'm better than he is." Shigaraki rasps out, enunciating each consonant. He wishes you were a little quicker on the uptake, not considering maybe it's his own evasive way of phrasing things that's gotten him to this point.

"Of course you are."

He has to double take. It's an answer he's come to expect from Kurogiri, who has been his caretaker for over ten years, but to hear it from you gives it a whole new meaning. His heart beats loudly, almost painfully in his chest as you shrug, as if you're saying something completely obvious.

"If I wanted to jump ship after USJ, I would have done so back then, you know?" Careful hands reapply the clean bandages to his arms while you speak, no trace of hesitation or deception lining your tone. "You said it too, he's pretty cool-- But a hero's a hero." Your eyes and tone sharpen at that. "Garbage doesn't stop being garbage just because it's a little shiner than usual."

You didn't join up with them on anything so petty, that could be shaken so easily. It's true that Eraser-head is a better hero than most, but he's still a part of hero society. He defends it, he upholds it, he perpetuates it...and so any appreciation for him starts and stops there. There's no room for the kind of hypocritical half-measures that heroes embody. "So what if we got our asses kicked? We're going to get our revenge soon enough. We're better than that, aren't we?"

You tap your knuckles against the uninjured parts of his hand in a kind of fist-bump. Ah, he realizes, you've misunderstood him. You think he needs encouragement after the fumble and losing the nomu. His lips twitch into a half smile. Maybe you're right...about that at least. The hit to his pride has gotten him into this kind of weak thinking. Shigaraki allows a few of his fingers to brush up against the outside of yours.

Of course. What a foolish thing for him to consider. He didn't have anything to fear about Eraser. Maybe in another world, a different world, a man like that could have been an asset-- someone who understood the kind of darkness that bred the both of you. But the heaviness that weighs upon you and the drive that binds you two together is stronger and more ferocious than any hypocritical kindness that current hero society offers you.

Kurogiri doesn't miss the exchange, his glowing yellow eyes narrowing fondly as the distraction that was currently weighing on Shigaraki disappears with just a gesture and a few words from you.

"We're better than that." Shigaraki agrees. "It'll be different next time." He intends to show you that you chose the right side-- the right man-- even if you don't know it yet. He'll let you think it's just about USJ for a little while longer, if it means he can hold your hand like this. You'll realize soon enough.

[crowhyun]

When You Give a Mouse a Cookie…

best friend!felix x reader smut (minor boyfriend!yeonjun x reader)

— Yeonjun gets curious about the times you and Felix slept together and decides you ask you how it happened.

Genre: smut, just best friends fucking :D

Warnings: unprotected sex, pulling out method, vaginal intercourse, whiny Felix, slight comedic themes, both Felix and reader are just horny atp, mentions of an open relationship, it’s quite quick

Words: 2.2k

AN: I advise you to read “Hard Catch” before reading this so you can completely understand. I wrote this quick asf bcs I couldn’t get the idea out of my head. There will be more of this topic to come…

    "So..." Yeonjun started, taking off his jacket as he stepped into your apartment. You looked at him expectantly, feeling like what he was going to say next wasn't normal in the least. "I was wondering for a few days now..."

    "Wondering about what?" You tilted your head.

    "This might sound weird, but..." He hesitated before he shook his head. "Nevermind, it doesn't matter. How was work?"

    "Wait, no, I'm really curious now." You said. "You can't just start saying it and then stop." You pulled at his sleeve and pouted.

    "Well, I was gonna ask about...you and Felix." He said.

    You paused. "...me and Felix what?" You asked, gulping. Hopefully he didn't ask about what Felix had told him the other day. That would be too embarrassing to talk about.

    He sighed, figuring he'd get straight to the point. "How did you and Felix sleep together? Like...why?"

    "Oh fuck, I knew it." You frowned. "Can we not talk about that?"

    "No, I'm not mad or jealous or anything." He said. "I'm just curious." He scratched the back of his neck and you examined him, looking for any hints of anger. Usually, boyfriends would not want to even know about past...lovers? Well, you and Felix were never really lovers, it was just a one time thing. Until it happened again. Just a two time thing and never again.

    Once you made sure it was just curiosity, you gave in. "Okay...I guess I'll tell you." You thought back to the day it first happened. It wasn't a shameful or embarrassing day, rather, it was quite a good memory to look back on.

    You and Felix sat on the couch in complete silence as you did one of your favorite activities together, which was watching movies. The sun had set hours ago, and the only light was the one radiating from the television. It was the weekend, so you nor Felix had work in the morning, thus creating the idea of having a sleepover. With the plan of moving from the couch to the floor once it was time to sleep, you guys had already made a cute little fort in front of the TV to save for later.

    Felix laughed at a funny scene of the romance, clutching onto the plushy that you ahad given him. You rolled your eyes at how corny the movie was at times, but you couldn't help but laugh.

    Laugher soon turned into silence again once the movies started to get a little heated. The scene started with the main couple bursting through the door of their house and immediately attaching thier lips together in intense passion. Your raised your eyebrows and leaned in with interest as they started taking off their clothes. In no time, they were on the bed, and their bodies moved together roughly as the man thrusted inside of her. Of course the movie wouldn't know hte most intimate parts, save for a flash of her breasts or a flash of his butt.

    Erotic moans filled the room, and you kind of wanted to turn the TV down so it wouldnt be as awkward. Felix was the one who loved having the volume high, anyway. You clenched your thighs together, surprised at the tingling you felt in between your legs. You hoped that Felix hadn't notice. Turning to look beside you, you saw that he was engrossed in the scene, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as his mouth watered. You saw how the plushy was conveniently placed between his legs, shielding you from what could be a possible boner.

    You felt awkward, but you didn't know why. Felix was your best friend for a few years now, you should be fine with watching a sex scene in front of him. Maybe the awkwardness was placed in the way you were absolutely dripping, and you had hoped you wouldnt soak through both your panties and your shorts.

    Once the sex scene finally ended, you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding.

    "Well that was...eventful." Felix chuckled, and you almost gasped at how you felt a gush of slick escape from you at his low voice. What the hell? This has never happened before. He's your best friend, you shouldn't be reacting this way because of his voice of all things.

    "Yeah..." You chuckled nervously, throat dry. None of you spoke again until the movie ended, but the sex scene was still on your mind.

    "What time is it?" Felix asked.

    "Uh..." You checked your phone. "Almost 3 am."

    "What?" Felix's eyes widened. "We should probably go to sleep."

    "Yeah, I think so too." You said. You couldn't get over how awkward the air felt, something that didn't happen often between you and Felix. The two of you silently moved down to he floor where your little nest of blankets and pillows were. You noticed how Felix kept the plushy in the same place, and you were definitely suspicious about it. Yet, you didn't say anything, getting comfortable under the blankets.

    You were a bit further from Felix than you would've liked to be. Everytime the both of you had a sleepover, you'd have no problem cuddling with him, but now it didn't seem like the right time to do so.

    Thirty minutes passed of you just laying on your back in the dark, staring at the ceiling and still wanting some friction down there. You thought that Felix was fast asleep by now until you heard him speak.

    "(Y/N)? You awake?" He asked.

    "Yeah."

    "Oh." He said. "Have you...have you ever had sex before?"

    You were surprised at the sudden question and you didn't answer for a second. "Y-yeah, of course. Have you?"

    "Yeah." He said. Then there was an awkward silence. Why did he just ask you that? Now you felt even weirder. "Can I be honest with you?" He asked.

    "Mhm."

    "I have a boner." He said. "From that one scene. And it hurts."

    "Oh." If only he could see your face now. You were baffled. But at the same time, you didn't feel really ashamed to say, "Me too...I-I'm not hard, obviously, I'm just...y'know."

    "Yeah, I get it." He hummed. "Would it be weird if I just started jacking off right now?"

    You couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, kinda." He then laughed, and everything felt light hearted now, you didn't feel awkward anymore. But you couldn't stop thinking about the plushy situated in between his legs, possibly giving him relief by rubbing down his clothed hard-on. Maybe you could help him relieve some of his pain? It's what friends are meant to do, right? Help out their friends so they don't feel pain. "Felix...I...I could help you out if you want."

    It took him a few seconds to answer. "R-really? It wouldn't be too awkward?"

    "Not if you make it awkward." You said. "We're both needy. Let's help each other out...but as friends, of course."

    "Well then...I won't oppose to that." He gulped, removing the plushie from between his legs. You bit your lip, barely able to see him in the dark, but you could see bits and pieces from the light of the moon. He sat up, facing you and you did the same. "You sure about this? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

    "I'm the one who asked, of course I'm sure." You snickered, pussy throbbing for some action.    

    "Okay..." He said, a hesitant hand sliding from your bent knee to your thigh, and you moved closer to him. His hand moved up to your waist and the both of you leaned into a soft kiss. As expected, his lips were soft and plump, slightly wet from him licking his lips before hand. The kiss was short and the two of you looked at each other once more before diving in again, this time, this kiss was more heavy, heads tilting to deepen it. Felix got closer to you, and in no time, your bodies were pressed together, hands roaming and groping at each other.

    You parted from the kiss in order to take your shirt off, throwing it somewhere else. After it was off Felix wasted no more time to kiss you again, sliding his tongue into your mouth. Your saliva mixed with his as you grabbed onto his shoulders and made out. He reached behind you to unhook your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders, revealing your naked torso to him. He grabbed your boobs, fondling them in his hands and teasing your nipples. You moaned into the kiss and Felix slowly pushed into you so that your back would meet with the blankets on the floor. You spread your legs so that he could place his body in between them. Once his bulge made contact with your covered slit, he groaned deeply, grinding down just once before he sat up on his knees and quickly pulled down his pants, his cock springing up and hitting his stomach.

    "Felix!" You gasped.

    "What?"

    "You weren't wearing underwear this whole time?" You giggled.

    "Underwear is constricting, I only wear it when I have to." He replied, hovering over you. "How do you like it?"

    "Whatever way you want." You said. "I can take anything."

    With that, he sunk his cock into you, groaning at the feel of it. The slight stretch had you cringing but it was fine when he delivered his first thrust into you. You bit your lip as he started to steadily thrust into you, him not wanting to wait any longer.

    You were so incredibly wet, each thrust sounded like sticky wetness. Looking up at Felix, he seemed so lost in the feeling of your tight pussy surrounding him. You clenched down hard on his cock, making him accidentally thrust hard into you, a high pitched whine coming from him. He blushed in embarrassment, but couldn't hide how good that felt, and neither could you. He started thrusting into you at a faster pace, his whines filling the room.

    "Fuck, Felix, that feels so good." You moaned, clutching onto his arms.

    "I'm not gonna last long," He cried. "I wanna cum so bad." His eyes rolled out the back of his head and you didn't know what was more satisfying; the fast paced drag of his cock in your walls, or the whines he made along with it. You had never seen him in this state and it turned you on like no other.

    You clenched around him again and he whined even louder, dropping his head down to your shoulder.

    "You're doing so good," You moaned into his ear, scratching your nails down his back. You reached down in between your bodies to rub at your clit, needing just a bit more of a push to cum. That plus the way he was rocking into you had you cumming within seconds, a gasp leaving your throat as you came around his cock.

    "Fuck!" He cried out, quickly pulling out and yanking on his cock, rope after rope of cum squirting on your belly. It took him a while to calm down after his orgasm, his hips twitching forward, cock slowly softening as his breathing returned back to normal. You bit your lip, wanting to see what he looked like while overstimulated, but you weren't sure it was the right time for that. He looked down at your cum covered stomach, and although it was hot, he gave you an apologetic smile. "Sorry 'bout that." He giggled.

"It's fine." You said. "I kinda like it."

"Oh do you?" He couldn't help but give you a teasing smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

"You seem to be enjoying that memory quite a lot." Yeonjun said, snapping you out of your daze as you explained what had happened. You didn't say every detail, of course, since you were too embarrassed, but you told him how the two of you got to that point.

"I-it's not like I enjoy it, I w-was just-"

"No, it's fine if you enjoyed it." He smiled, and you pouted. "If you ever wanted to, y'know...do it again...I wouldn't mind."

Your eyes widened as you looked at him in disbelief. "Even though we're dating?"

"(Y/N). I'm 400 years old. My way of dating isn't really...conventional, I'd say." He said, leaning towards you. "I know you liked fucking Felix. I won't have a problem if you two do it again. Besides, Felix doesn't seem so bad."

"So...basically, this is like an open relationship?" You asked hesitantly. You definitely didn't have a problem with that, but you wanted to see how far Yeonjun was willing to go.

"If you could call it that, yes." He shrugged. "If you're...comfortable with that."

"I am." You said quickly, maybe a bit too quickly, causing Yeonjun to laugh. "Are you?"

"Of course."

You nodded, a shy smile coming across your face. None of your past partners have ever allowed this to happen, so this was new to you. The ideas that surrounded your mind were plentiful, but there was no one else you wanted to get involved with other than Yeonjun and Felix.

[poemsforparker]

out of the woods - matt murdock

pairing: matt murdock (daredevil) × f!vigilante!reader

summary: matt fails to keep his lone wolf pose when a new vigilante starts acting upon the crimes in his city.

content warnings: violence, wound description, blood (but it's still fluff, I promise lol), also poorly proofread bc this is my first oneshot that's this big (and I think one of my favourites already), so I probably left something behind, if you find anything, lmk!

word count: 3.3k

You knock down the last henchman with a punch. You could feel the sweat soaking your suit in the inside and your mouth had the familiar, yet hateful, blood taste from the kick that hit you earlier and made you bite your cheek. The guy who did it was specially injured.

A well known figure with horns gets out of the dark corner and runs towards you, a folder filled with documents in his hands, he swings it in the air showing it to you with a wide smile on his face.

— I got it. What we have here it's probably going to be enough to start a move against Fisk. Names, places and stuff. Thanks for your help. - you cough with his words.

— It's more like you were helping me, red.

— Yeah let's pretend it goes that way. Here - he puts the folder on your hands - can you read it for us?

— Can't you read? - he stops and scratches the back of his neck, losing a bit of his confident posture.

— I, um... My eye sight is a bit blurry from the punches. - he says more sounding like a question than an affirmation, you try not to push it too much. It's not like it mattered either way.

— Alright, let's get inside - you point your head to the abandoned building beside you - let's see what they have here.

Daredevil goes right behind you. Following your path to a dirty dusty table where you place the folder and sit down on the equality dirty and squeaky metal chair. Him copying your moves.

You read out loud to him all the information you could find, names of criminals that once worked for Fisk, people who had something on him that needed to be watched, betrayers. But the people who worked for him currently, were not in the file.

— Well, I guess we're gonna have to give some more punches. - you close the file turning your body to him. - At least we know who to punch now to get information.

— I wasn't waiting for it to have current information anyways, they wouldn't be so uncarefull. - he shrugs - Still, that's a lot of help.

— Yeah... But where do we even start? This has too many names and too many addresses, some of these people could lead us to nothing and we'd waist precious time on this, we need to get to him fast, know his next moves and be there waiting to stop him. We can't spend a week doing our lovely interviews with these bunch of jerks, he's going to have plenty of time to act already while we're having a chat with criminals.

— I wish I knew. - he says simply. He was annoyed, not with you, but because what you just said was true, even with a bunch of information you still had practically nothing. Old data wouldn't help you predict his next moves, and Fisk was always three steps ahead of you. - Maybe we should split for now. Try to do it as fast as we can. We gather back here every night, same time, share what we got and try to connect the dots. Perhaps in a day or two we manage to get something useful.

— Yeah, maybe...

— You have anything better?

— Nope. I guess that's a plan, red.

— Stop calling me that. - you giggle with his annoyed tone.

— Well, I don't know your name and "daredevil" sounds too scary so...

— I'm scary.

— Sure you are, red. - you tap his shoulder letting another soft giggle out. - See ya, tomorrow! turning your back on him, taking the folder with you on your way out, you crawl up to the building jumping above them in direction of your home.

...

Matt wakes up the next morning with his hole body aching, he's thankful the suit made by Melvin didn't let him get as shattered as he uses to be before. But still, the guys the night earlier knew how to give a punch.

His phone yelled repeatedly and annoyingly Foggy's name, indicating a call.

— Hey, buddy, what's up? - his voice comes out huskier than usual, trying not to whine too much with the pain.

— You sound like shit.

— Feel like it.

— Got what you wanted last night? Are you still getting the help from that woman?

— Yeah, we went after those guys. Didn't get much still if I'm being honest.

— Nothing yet? Matt you've been chasing information with this girl for what? A month now? Sounds to me like you're getting excuses to spend more time together - Foggy uses a very out of

tune singing voice to mock his friend.

— She is awesome and all Foggy, but I'm not playing when it comes to Fisk. We're really trying our best here. Plus, when all of this is over I could still ask her out. - Foggy can hear that Matt's smiling through the phone.

— Yeah, yeah, and you plan on doing that how? Taking her to a restaurant casually worn as that horned thing? Maybe put on a tuxedo above? - he mocks.

— I'd reveal my identity to her. - he says simply.

— Wow, your down bad buddy. That's a big move.

— She trusts me enough to know her's Foggy. I meant I don't know her name but I can feel she takes off her mask when is just the two of us, and she doesn't know I'm blind so...

— Is she hot? I bet she's hot.

— How would I know?

— Don't play that card on me, Matt. But I'm serious, are you sure about what you're saying?

— Yeah, man, on what more danger could I be putting her in if she knew who I was? She does the same things as I do. We're even in that matter.

— Does she even know a thing about you already?

— No, she doesn't. Yesterday I told her I couldn't read the papers because my eye sight was blurry. Every time I try to spill out a real thing about myself I get nervous. - Foggy let's out a loud laugh.

— You, nervous? Please, Matt, that's the best joke I've ever heard.

— I'm serious, man. It's like I'm s goddamn teenager again. It's ridiculous.

— What's stopping you, anyway?

— Beyond having much bigger stuff to deal with when I see her, such as fighting crime in New York, other than my stupid feelings? I don't know, I'm scared she won't... like me, I guess.

— Matt, are you sure you're okay? Did anyone hit your head to hard?

— I'm serious, Foggy. - he chuckles

— Alright, alright. I called you because you're late to get to the office so get your ass here quickly because we still have clients to deal with, we talk later about your secret love life. - he hangs up.

...

He had a busy day at the office, between solving out minor issues as lawyer Matt and reviewing information in his head as vigilante Matt, the day went by and the night fell.

Barely having time to even enter his house properly he already started to take off his tie and unbutton his white shirt, not wanting to waist any other second to put his suit on and get out.

Once he had his knuckles bloody and painful already, he decided he had enough. Walked to the place you said you'd meet him and waited for you. For way too long, in his opinion. When Matt was starting to get worried someone had caught you, he hears someone come in, and recognizes it to be you.

The smell of blood was strong, he could tell you were bleeding much more than usual, maybe a stab would or something worse, but definitely not only wounded by punches. You walk towards him, waddling and holding your ribs, probably fractured.

— Jesus Christ, what happened to you? - he says concerned.

— Couple more guys that I was expecting, nothing I can't take but I could've used your help, red. - you hiss at the sharp pain on your leg, where one of the bastards you fought before managed to give a deep cut with a dagger.

— Are you okay?

— Super. - Matt feels his cheeks burn over your dry answer to his dumb question, of course you were not okay.

— Sorry. - he pulls a chair for you. — Here, sit down.

— Thanks. I didn't mean to sound harsh it's just that I don't get exactly super lively when some douche cuts my flesh open.

— I'm familiar with the feeling.

— Yeah. So, what'd you get?

— Nearly nothing. But I know where he is.

— Great, yeah, we, um... Got the same information then. - he feels your heart beat race.

— What did you do?

— Please don't get mad at me.

— You know that saying that you only get to worry me, right?

— Right, yeah, um... sort of went there-

— You what? Are you insane?

— I know how it sounds, and yeah, maybe I was reckless going there, but I couldn't help it, the first guy I gave a punch already snitched everything he knew, it was ridiculous. I thought that maybe it was a sign for me to go there, some kind of-

— You shouldn't have went there alone.

— I know, I know I-

— We said we'd finish him

together, and we'll do that, right? - he holds your shoulders, bending a little since you were sat down.

— That man got my father killed, red. - your voice cracks as you get up from the chair, taking a step closer to him and ignoring the throbbing pain in your leg. - Only because he was a fair man and he wanted to do the right thing, just like you and me. - you put your finger on his chest when saying "you" - When I found out where Fisk was, I was blinded by rage and I wasn't thinking straight at the moment, I'm sorry, but we'll do it together, we'll beat his ass - you giggle, eyes still watery, but a part of your heart found comfort that at least someone else had the same goal as you did. - I promise.

He can feel your heartbeat ease, you were telling the truth. Then holds himself not to make a blind joke because of what you said, and on a maybe even more reckless act than you trying to break into a building full of security all alone and without a plan, Matt takes your lips on his. Holding you closer by your waist.

You break the kiss due to the pain on your leg over him moving you that fast. — Ouch. - you mock, trying to lighten the mood since you realized he was embarrassed.

— I'm so sorry, I don't know what got into me.

— Don't be, red. - you put your hand on his cheek, staring at the his mouth that was connected with yours moments earlier. - I kinda of wanted to do this too - this time you feel your cheeks burn, for threatening vigilantes you were looking like two teenagers. - I'm just sad I didn't see your face before I did it. - you keep your glance at the uncovered part of his face, admiring the smile showing up on his lips. - Or knew your name.

— I don't know yours. - he says simply, provoking.

— Y/n. - you say without having a second thought. - Your turn.

— Matt. Matthew. - he smiles wider and pulls your hand above his mask to pull it off.

— It's nice to meet you, Matt - you smirk.

You quickly notice his eyes weren't looking right at you, leaving you in confusion. Matt feels your breath change it's pace slightly. Realizing your confusion.

— I'm blind.

— What?

— I'm blind. That's what you're asking yourself, right? Why are my eyes traveling around instead of holding my glance on you - he chuckles.

— You read minds too, Matthew?

— Just, really good at guessing.

— I see. - this time as you knew already, Matt doesn't hold himself.

— I don't. - he laughs.

— Jesus. - you hide your face in his shoulder and laugh along.

Still touching your forehead in his shoulder, you feel him tense up and rise to look at his face.

— What's up?

— Someone's here. - he puts his mask back and his arm in front of you, turning his back and keeping you protected between him and the old table. - Did you check if you were being followed?

— Of course I did, I'm not an idiot.

— Three.

— Three what, Esfinge? You're saying stuff in riddles now?

— There's three man. Armed. Heavily. - he gulps. You could never get used to how he knew all this stuff, even more impressed now that you knew he couldn't see and was still the best fighter you've ever seen.

— Great. I'm in awesome conditions to fight, anyway.

— Get down. - Matt pulls you down in a strong impulse right before shots got fired right where you were standing.

— Holy shit.

— C'mon - he holds you by the waist to get up - he gotta get out of here.

Trying to run away from heavily armed assholes while limping wasn't exactly your first thing on the to do list today. When you open the door, a guy jumps from nowhere attacking the both of you. Matt is quick on throwing his stick-thingy on him, making him go down immediately.

— Go, go, go.

— I'm trying. - you complain, seeing the blood run down your leg like a fountain. Not a good feeling.

Matt keeps supporting your arm on his shoulder when getting up the stairs to the roof. Claiming one of the guys was up there, while the other one was following you.

Once up on the roof, the henchman that was following you long left couple floors back after you kicked him down with the good leg. Matt puts up a fight with the last one, leaving you to sit on the

floor and hold your leg not to loose any more blood.

Matt kicks the gun out of his hand, leaving him with a scared look on his face, when he tries to run Matt takes him by the collar of his shirt and drags him on a way he stays with half of his body about to fall off the building. You knew he wouldn't drop 'im. But the guy did not know that.

— Please don't throw me. - he begs.

— Tell us what Fisk's up to.

— I don't know, I swear. I'm just security to the building. He's been paying our boss to send us there to guard him. He's got a thing on everyone and if we deny him protection he'll do something. They have my daughter, please.

— How'd you get here?

— We followed the lady. - Matt looks on your direction, you couldn't see his eyes through the mask but you were sure his expression was something along the lines of "didn't you say you were not stupid?" you shrug even knowing he couldn't see it.

— But he knows you're after him, he's moving. - the guy continues - there's a van, is taking out tomorrow, 2pm, I don't know where he's going, buy if you catch him o the move maybe you have a shot. Please, finish that guy, I want my freedom again, I want to see my little girl.

— We'll do our best, sir. - Matt says softening his tone. His body getting back on being rigid when the device on the guys shoulder emitted a robotic voice that asked if everything was okay. Matt recovers his threatening tone. - Now, get the hell out of here and tell them in this little radio of yours it was a false alarm, you didn't find anyone here. If you ask for backup I swear to god I throw you out.

The guy does as he says, to scared to act otherwise. One he's gone (you could swear you'd never seen someone run so fast), Matt runs towards you, your vision this time was (really) blurry due to the blood loss. He can hear your slow heart pace and concern floods his brain. Holding your leg as strong as he could to stop the bleeding, he calls the one person he knew could help him then.

...

Claire was used with Matt's calls for help for himself. But when she got to the said building and saw another person, a girl, wounded in a equality comic suit as his (in her opinion), she can definitely say that she was surprised.

— What have you gotten yourself into? - the woman turns to you, starting to get stuff out of her first aid kit to patch you up.

— I wish I knew. - you chuckle softly. - So... How'd you meet eachother? - you say feeling your heart beat fastening, suddenly more concerned Matt actually had someone in his life already that about your bleeding-to-death situation.

— Found him in a dumpster. - she says simply. - Then it stuck. - she looks at you and smiles.

— You, ah, um... - you point confusedly between the two - Like, you two...

— Oh! No, no. - Matt is quick on saying, you feel yourself get less tense.

— Okay. - you whisper it, more to yourself, not knowing what to say next.

— This is probably gonna hurt a lot. - Claire warns you with a petty look, after riping your suit around the area where the dagger got to, she cleaned the area and was ready to stitch.

— Go ahead. - Matt can feel your nervous. So calmly and silently, he sits by your side, putting his hand on your lap with his palm up.

— Hold onto me. You can squeeze my hand if it hurts too much. - your embarrassed he can probably feel how melted you got for the way your heart went crazy but try to act normal.

— Thanks, Matt. - he smiles.

Twenty stitches. Was what was necessary to close your leg wound back. Probably one of the worse you had. After some time they left you sitting and Claire mumbled to Matt some stuff about how he should keep an eye on you at least for the night.

They both stand on each side of you for you to wrap your arms around their necks and help you get back to the first floor, leaning on them and hoping in one leg. You thank Claire for her help and Matt pays her a cab back home, leaving just the pair of you alone again.

— Great night, huh? - he tells you, still walking with you leaning on him, even tho you were not sure where was he taking you from there.

— Tell me 'bout it.

Where are you taking me?

— My place. You're staying for the night. No discussions, you're not in conditions to be alone nor even to fight again tomorrow, we can make up another plan in the meantime, tomorrow I can follow Fisk's car, find out where he is going, take some more information maybe, I don't know. But you can't come with me, not like this.

— If I wasn't depending on you to walk I'd really want to punch you right now.

— Why?

— Because that's true and I'm mad you're throwing it on my face. - you both giggle. - But seriously Matt, don't you ever get pissed off by all of this? It's fucked up how we have been chasing nothing for a month now, every time we think we have something we're back on zero mark.

— I do. - he says simply. - But we're gonna make this. We'll figure it out, right? We always do. - he stops, to give you some time before walking again.

— Right. - you face him on the suit. Imagining how things would be from now on. When you reached your goal, the first plan was getting back each to your own way, but that had changed long time already - We'll stick together after we finish him, right? - you ask him, fear clear as the water in your voice.

— You mean as Matt and Y/n? If it's up to me, of course we will, dear.

— Good. - you smile, cupping his cheek to kiss him once more, this time more passionate, full of hope and untold promises. What got you two together at first was a common goal, a common hate at the meeting of two broken souls who suffered with the cruelty of the city.

Now it was becoming something else, once the vigilante barrier broke and now you knew eachother's identities, that seemed to make things more real. Starting to digest that all of those times you fought side by side to that person were not fever dreams – as much as they looked like it. It was two people, two different lives, combined by the same objective. An instant connection seemed to show.

Undeniable for both, it would grow to be love.

...

see more fics in my masterlist

[concubuck]

What happened after the succubus left? How did Al finally manage to, let's say, bring himself down to "normal"?

Instead of answering this normally I just wrote a fic bc that's more interesting. Follow up to this fic.

(It bears clarifying that the person who left wasn't a succubus. She's a normal human sex worker—just one that's had a few centuries of experience marketing specifically to succubi. She just does this for the money, not because she's got a succubus's biological need to fuck.)

This fic takes place several weeks after the last one, during which time Alastor's finally hauled himself outside to seek more extreme solutions and go to the doctor. I plan to write that scene later but tl;dr the doctor visit goes like "you say you're fucking? but you're STILL horny? damn bitch i dunno that's supposed to work, your bloodwork looks normal idk what's wrong 🤷"

I've only very loosely proofread this, so I apologize for any typos and/or incoherency.

✨💖 Alastor figures out how to orgasm 💖���

Warnings for attempted & referenced sexual assault/rape, alcoholism, and horrendous hygiene (both personal & environmental).

###

Alastor didn't think he'd been sober for the last two weeks.

He hadn't drunk like this since the seventies, when the weight of Hell had been too heavy for him to bear, and he'd spent most of his time trying to artificially hasten the arrival of Armageddon via serial blackouts. With the dispassionate distance with which he could now scrutinize his former human life, he could tell now that he'd spent the seventies wanting to die.

He didn't want to die now, did he?

No, he didn't. Not after he'd fought so hard to live again. He just wanted to stop feeling like this. God, he'd give anything to stop feeling like this.

The short reprieves granted by whiskey dick were the only thing keeping him going. The reprieves were irregular—he'd been lied to about how much alcohol would dampen his libido. And they were impossible to really enjoy—by the time he was drunk enough to stop feeling his constant arousal, he was also too drunk to feel anything else. But any port in a storm.

He'd started making rare trips out of his temporary quarters; first to try to find solutions to his problem, then to ask for help. Today, on his way home from the doctor, he stopped in at a bar for the first time since he'd changed. He couldn't keep asking for extensions on his new succubus stipend forever. Soon he'd lose his free housing and his one source of income, and he'd have to make a choice: either he had to get a job, or he had to return to getting his food and lodgings the way he had for the last eighty-five years—by using the Radio Demon's reputation to terrify people into giving him what he wanted for free. One meant trying to get stable employment while too horny to function; the other meant returning to the limelight and letting all of Hell see he was too horny to function; and both meant he had to get used to being out in public again. If he was going to have to be horny in public anyway, a bar was as good a place as any to start.

So he found a dive, claimed a booth—letting the shadows and seats form a flimsy shield between his wretched body and any curious customers—and grimly got to work drinking himself into a stupor.

###

"You doing alright there, sweetheart?"

Alastor didn't register the fact that he was supposed to be "sweetheart" until somebody shook his shoulder. He swatted the hand away irritably and sat up; he hadn't even realized he'd laid his head down amongst his empty glasses. "What?" he croaked.

"You alright there?" the sinner repeated. He was some kind of mammalian sinner with a twitchy, nervous snout, a buzz cut, and a t-shirt displaying the Monopoly Man with a no doubt witty caption that Alastor couldn't focus on well enough to read.

"Fine. I'm just..." He couldn't think of any excuse that didn't sound pathetic. He was sure he looked pathetic; huddled up in a sweatshirt and baggy sweatpants like he was too sick to dress himself. He'd thought the loose pants would be more accommodating to his perpetual boner, but they really just gave it more room to tent up. They weren't even a matching set of sweats. He didn't even have shoes on. He rubbed his eyes and asked, "Am I being kicked out?

"No, no, sweetie. Nothing like that. I just wanted to make sure you're okay." The sinner spoke with the sort of soft baby tone used to soothe small skittish animals. "Maybe you need help home?

Not even blackout drunk would Alastor trust that line. He'd been in Hell too long.

His mental image of himself shifted from sickly invalid to sexy victim. He realized now how he really looked—a sex demon (translation: a being undeserving of humane treatment and designed only to fuck you), face flushed and forehead sweaty and eyes glazed with arousal, sitting awkwardly to accommodate his boner, too wasted to stay awake in the middle of the day, all alone. Easy prey. Cheap meat.

Did he care?

No.

So what if Mr. Monopoly wanted to use Alastor's body? Alastor didn't want to use it. If Alastor could let him take it off his hands permanently, he would. Mr. Monopoly could certainly borrow it.

"Sure." He slid out of the booth and got to his feet. The sinner had been practically bent double over Alastor, crowding him into his seat, one hand on the seat back and the other hand extended to help him up; but when Alastor stood, the sinner took a hasty step back, retracting his hand. Why? Because Alastor hadn't accepted the hand? Because the sinner hadn't expected his pretty drunk "sweetheart" to be so tall—or male? Because he'd recognized Alastor as the Radio Demon?

That was a problem for the sinner and his Uncle Pennybags shirt to deal with—but it certainly wasn't Alastor's problem. He was leaving, with or without company. He trudged toward the door, stumbling slightly on an uneven floorboard and clinging to the back of a booth seat for balance.

And then an arm slid around his waist to squeeze his hip, pulling him close to the sinner's side; even through Alastor's sweater, the arm felt so fleshy and human that he compulsively hitched up his shoulders and lifted his hands from revulsion at the mere possibility of brushing naked skin.

"Careful, sweetie. Don't want you getting hurt," Pennybags said, and Alastor was too tired to laugh at him. "You're in a bad shape, aren'cha?"

"I'm not that bad," Alastor insisted, noting distantly that the sinner's grip redirected Alastor's walk to force him to stumble over the sinner's feet and lean on the sinner for support.

"Maybe you should come home with me, so I can make sure nothing happens to you while you sober up," Mr. Monopoly went on, as if Alastor had never spoken. "It'd be a shame if something happened to you—especially pretty as you are." The hand on Alastor's hip slid down beneath the hem of his sweater to possessively squeeze one of Alastor's ass cheeks.

Something surged up from Alastor's groin into his chest—like an underground coal fire suddenly erupting into open air, dark mining shafts that had previously only belched dirty smelly smoke now erupting bright geysers of fire. 

He stopped and seized the sinner's shoulder, squeezing tight. He didn't understand why he wasn't ripping the offending arm from its socket.

The sinner tried to keep walking, and only stopped after a couple of tugs revealed that Alastor was rooted to the spot too securely to simply drag along. 

"You don't have anything to worry about," the sinner said warily. He'd tried to move his hand a little higher on Alastor's ass, to just below the small of his back, as if he'd only accidentally grabbed so low. "I'm not gonna let anybody hurt you, sweetheart."

Alastor let out a low, wry laugh that made the sinner tense up against him. "I'm not worried. Don't you concern yourself over me..." his gaze fell on the mascot on the sinner's shirt, "... Uncle Pennybags."

"Uncle what?" Apparently suspecting he'd somehow been duped, Monopoly Man's voice thickened with anger. "Hey, cuntcubus, I'm trying to do you a favor. I'm not about to pay for—"

The sudden slackening of Mr. Monopoly's interest was like a heavy curtain falling on Alastor's mind again, dousing the lights and smothering the air. Alastor wheeled around, grabbed both of Monopoly Man's shoulders, and leaned down into his face. "I do not want," he hissed, "your money."

Pennybags stared up at Alastor in alarm; and then, narrowing his eyes, he said, "Oh yeah? You want this?" Without warning, he slid his hand down Alastor's loose waistband, groping at the shaft that hadn't been flaccid since the last time Alastor chopped it off.

Alastor's knees buckled so dramatically that his height dropped to eye-level with the sinner. He let out a quiet gasp like the sound of a decommissioned radio station turning off for the last time. Alastor didn't remember dying, didn't remember how it had felt. Didn't remember the face of the man who'd shot him. He lost those memories when he lost his humanity. But the look in this sinner's eyes—hungry, lecherous, roving over Alastor's face and throat as if deciding where to bite first—surely that had to be similar to how his killer had looked at him. Surely dying had to feel like this: exhilarating.

"Oh, you like that, bitch?"

Alastor didn't know if he liked it. Certainly it wasn't a very good handjob; he'd had dozens of better ones, not even counting the thousands he'd given himself. But God—it teased at him, taunting him with the possibility of satisfying the craving that had been torturing him for almost half a year. Was that the same as "liking" it? Do you like water when you're thirsty?

He wasn't sober enough to care about the distinction. Instead of answering the question, he growled, "We don't need to go all the way back to your place, do we?"

A filthy leer stretched across the sinner's snout. Alastor felt his member throb in the sinner's grip.

###

They were in a cramped alleyway near the bar. Alastor's back was against a brick wall so rough that its friction on his sweatshirt was enough to keep him from sliding down to the filthy pavement even though Pennybags had Alastor's hooves lifted into the air. The narrow gap between two buildings reeked of years of alcoholic urine and overflowing dumpsters festering in Hell's heat. On the opposite wall, Alastor stared blankly at a mishmash of illegible graffiti, the only bit of which he could discern was two words stacked on top of each other reading "DAWG PISS". If someone bottled the alley's fragrance as a cologne, that was what it would be called.

He could hardly keep track of his surroundings.

There was an electrified shaft of pure gold shoved up his anus.

It sent fluttering sparks dancing through his stomach and bolts of lightning jolting up his spine. He swore it felt so good he almost passed out. All of it felt so good. The oily fingers peeling away his clothing and pawing at his hips and ass and thighs and kthumbing at his nipples. The hot, stinking breath panting on his bare skin and wheezing in his face. The lips and tongue lapping at his neck and shoulders and transferring the taste of Alastor's own unwashed sweat to his lips. The eyes roving across his naked flesh, invisible and yet blazing hot, like the Martian Heat-Ray that turns men into flame.

And then the violating instrument itself, humping up into Alastor's shithole, sweaty hairy balls slapping against Alastor's sweaty hairy ass—and it felt divine. It felt like God Himself descending from heaven to tell Alastor He personally forgave him for ripping the divinity out of his eternal soul, and then puckering up His Lips to plant a sweet, loving kiss right on the ring of Alastor's anal sphincter.

He could feel himself wailing in pleasure; he could hear snips of music playing, chaotic, discordant, only a couple of seconds at a time before switching to another song. He twisted his ankles together behind the sinner's ass and clawed at the back of his stupid Monopoly t-shirt, trying to pull him closer, pull him deeper. He wanted to suck in every last drop of his savior's ambrosial attention. He wanted to devour the sinner's hunger for him.

When Pennybags grunted in pain and muttered "Keep your claws to yourself, bitch," it was like a heavy had passed in front of the sun. The electricity shooting up from the shaft buried in him stopped, leaving him with the nauseating feeling that all he really had was a lump of spongy living meat stuck up his ass.

"Sorry," Alastor said, voice a breathless whisper, hardly discernible from white noise; he let go of Mr. Monopoly, flattening his hands on the brick wall.

"Better," Monopoly grunted, still disgruntled—but approving. The clouds parted. The sunshine returned. Alastor's backbone lit up like the neon signs on Lust's casino strip.

Alastor came so hard he slammed his head back against the brick wall.

His claws dug into the brick wall so hard that a couple snapped. His vision momentarily went black. When his sight cleared up enough for DAWG PISS to swim back into view, the sinner was still hammering his ass like an oil derrick digging for crude.

He came again.

"Shut up," the sinner hissed, clamping a hand over Alastor's mouth to try to silence his screams. "You noisy prick. Do you want the whole fuckin' street to hear us?"

He did, he did, he did. He moaned openly against the sinner's hand, feeling his cheeks grow damp as his tears were caught by the sinner's fingers.

"Oh, you like it that much?" the sinner panted. "Huh? Do you?"

Alastor could feel his nuts tightening again. The sinner was turned on because Alastor was turned on by him. Alastor knew this like a fact despite never being told: the same way he first recognized the smell of fear in someone's sweat; the same way he sometimes instantly knew his shot was fatal when he dropped a deer or man; the same way in Paris during the Great War he'd always known exactly which direction and how far the Eiffel Tower was even though he'd never touched a radio before and didn't even know yet that the Eiffel was a functional radio tower. He knew it like an instinct he didn't know he had. The sinner was turned on by the fact that Alastor into this. He was turned on by Alastor.

He tightened his thighs around the sinner's waist and answered his question with a frantic nod.

The sinner grunted and slammed hard into Alastor's ass.

Alastor saw stars. He'd never dreamed it could feel so good.

He wasn't sure if he came twice more or if was just one long orgasm. When it was over, he was leaning against the wall by himself, his buttocks pressed to the rough brick with a stranger's seed stuck between his ass cheeks, hands on knees, legs trembling, breath heaving, mind reeling. What happened? Why was it different?

It wasn't a great fuck. He'd had great fucks. He'd had the best fucks a desperate succubus with a lot of spare money could buy. But great fucks hadn't satisfied Alastor. This slob hadn't bothered to touch Alastor's dick once they were outside and if he'd ever hit Alastor's prostate it had been a lucky accident. There was nothing special about his dick. There was certainly nothing special about the person that the dick was attached to. It could have been anybody, Alastor was sure of that, and it wouldn't have made a difference.

So why did it make a difference?

"You oughta shave your ass," Pennybags said, buttoning his shorts. "Or get a bikini wax, shit. Nobody wants to fuck your hairy dingleberries."

He was finished? He was leaving? Already? That hadn't even been five minutes. Alastor was picking up stations that hadn't even completed a commercial break during the time they spent screwing.

"That's not all, is it?" Alastor had tasted something close to satisfaction for the first time since his rebirth. He wasn't ready to give it up. He wasn't satisfied yet. 

"What?" Pennybags gave him an irritated look. "You expect me to kiss you goodbye? Fuck." He looked down to see why his shorts weren't zipping (he'd gotten his shirt caught in the zipper teeth), and muttered, "I thought you were drunker." He turned away from Alastor to trudge back toward the street.

"Oh, I want a lot more than a kiss!" Alastor seized Mr. Monopoly's arm, yanked him back, and swung him hard against the alley wall. Half his studio audience groaned "oooh," like an audience watching a boxer get laid flat; the other half squealed with laughter like they'd just watched a Stooge mangle one of his two brothers.

The sinner gasped and coughed, trying to get back the breath Alastor had knocked out of him. "Wh—what—?"

Before he recovered enough to push himself up, Alastor shoved him back against the wall, one hand on each of the sinner's forearms to pin him in place, his knees jammed between the sinner's; gravity tilted sharply, pulling them both toward the wall as though it were the ground, with Alastor on top. At the feeling of the world rotating ninety degrees beneath him, the sinner spasmed like he was waking up from a dream of falling ; Alastor was close enough to him that the lank, greasy hair that had been draped on his shoulders now hung in the sinner's face.

"I said," Alastor repeated, "I want more than a kiss." His hands left the sinner's wrists, creeping up to seize his face roughly, in a parody of a tender hold, one of his broken claws running along his muzzle; but the shadow of his hands remained on the sinner's wrists, still pinning him in place. His shadow's chin jutted over Alastor's shoulder, tongue lolling out to drip smoky drool and lick hungrily at the sweat on Alastor's neck, panting silently.

Alastor went on, "After all, you were so eager to show me a good time—whether or not I wanted one. It's only polite to return the favor!" His audience's uncanny canned laughter echoed between the tight brick walls.

"Fuck," the sinner wheezed. "You're the—the—the Radio—" His stuttering attempt to name Alastor was drowned out by a louder, wicked laugh from the studio audience.

"Just figured it out?" he cooed, fumbling with the button of the sinner's pants. "I would have thought the fact that I play radio stations would have been a bigger clue." His shadow humped eagerly at Alastor's own ass, the semi-corporeal dick using the sinner's seed as lubricant. Alastor arched his back, groaning, pressing his ass against the shadow and his chest against the sinner.

"I thought—fuckin'—you had a phone in your pocket and we were bumping the skip button—?"

Alastor laughed darkly. "How creative." He leaned back to squint drunkenly at the sinner's shorts, trying to figure out why the fly wasn't unzipping. (The sinner's shirt was still caught in the zipper teeth.) With a sigh, he yanked the shorts down to the sinner's calves. 

The sinner used the opportunity to try to clamp his knees together.

"Careful, sweetie," Alastor chided. "Don't want you getting hurt." A couple more enthralled shades slunk out of the shadows, each seizing the sinner's knees and pulling them wide apart. Alastor grabbed his own cock to stroke it back to full hardness—noting in delight that for a moment it had only been half erect. "You don't have anything to worry about." Relying on his own seed to act as a lubricant, grinning triumphantly at the sinner's terrified face—oh, how he'd missed terrifying people!—he rubbed the head beneath the sinner's balls and then rutted experimentally between his ass cheeks.

Something was wrong. It felt like nothing.

No, it was so much worse than nothing: it simply felt like the absence of whatever had been right. That uncurtaining of his mind, the sunlight, the electricity, the taste of divinity. And in the absence of what felt right, everything awful about sex that had been buried bubbled back up. The nausea, the exposure, the vulnerability; his skin crawling so hard it felt like it would squirm off of him and wriggle into the dumpster like a skin-shaped blanket of maggots; the hyperawareness of the proximity of his taint to a stranger's taint, like the way food poisoning cuts your awareness of the world down to a single, interminable, inescapable second of agony.

Food poisoning. That phrase stuck in his mind. Food poisoning. He jerked his hips back.

Maybe he had to keep bottoming? He grabbed the sinner's flaccid cock. Trying to keep a grip on it felt like trying to scoop a slurry of melted flesh out of the acid bath that had melted it. Alastor jerked his hand back, stumbling backward into proper gravity in his haste to get away from the sinner.

Now that Alastor wasn't actively attempting to satiate his needs, his shadow—possessed of the same frenzied appetite but too stupid to know what wouldn't satisfy it—tried to twist around Alastor and reach for the sinner itself.

Alastor seized the shadow roughly and dragging it away from its target, hissing, "Stop it." There was no point. He knew from experience that trying to power through his revulsion wouldn't make any sparks fly. This felt no different from his every other attempt to drag a sinner into some dark alley and take whatever it was he needed. It was gone.

Recognizing the momentary escape route, the sinner tried to push off the wall and, when that didn't fix gravity, scrambled on hands and knees down the wall toward the ground. When he escaped the radius of Alastor's magic back into normal gravity, he slipped off the wall and fell shoulder-first to the ground with a yelp, then scrambled back upright to run.

Alastor allowed his worthless prey to flee, watching despairingly as the sinner stumbled over his own shorts and disappeared around the corner into the street. God, he'd been so close to satisfaction, he knew it, he'd been so close. What had been different?

His shadow despondently pawed at Alastor's groin. Alastor wrenched its hands off, snarling at its empty face until he'd wrestled it back into laying against the wall and passively mimicking Alastor's movements. And then he slumped against the wall as well, too despondent himself to even bother pulling his sweatpants back up.

What had been different? What had been happening when Alastor came (God, the best orgasms of Alastor's life)? What had he been thinking about?

He'd been thinking—he'd realized that Pennybags was turned on by the fact that Alastor was turned on by him. It was a laughable thought—Alastor was struggling to figure out what he had been turned on by, but it sure as hell wasn't that grotesque underdressed fool.

But just remembering his realization made his member twitch again. 

Chase it. The sinner was more turned on when Alastor was "attracted" to him. He'd been attracted to Alastor—(Alastor's hand slid down to stroke himself off)—and that meant... that meant... what?

And then, it had all fallen apart when Alastor had looked in his eyes and saw—no longer attraction—fear.

Alastor was turned on when the sinner was attracted to him.

Everything, everything he'd fucked and been fucked by so far—hands and toys and shadows and tentacles and whores and victims—was at best indifferent to him, at worst terrified. Nothing he'd touched so far had wanted him—until now.

His head swam, dizzy with alcohol and arousal. Another thin rope of seed spurted from his tip at just the thought of that: wanted, wanted, wanted him. Wanted him. Watching Alastor hungrily, gaze and hands roving over his body, like he was the only meal that could satiate the stranger's strange appetite, desiring his body like a starving beast desires a piece of hot, juicy, fresh, fleshy meat—

Alastor came hard again, crumpling to his knees, crying out—and this time there was nobody to muffle his cries. He screamed louder, voice echoing and raw with distortion, thighs spread and hips pumping into his fist, imagining windows overhead opening and heads poking out and passers-by peering in from the street and focusing on him like a pack of wolves circling an injured deer, and he keened louder, as if calling the predators in to feast on him, and he understood then the instincts of the cat yowling in heat.

And then the orgasm faded. He was alone; nobody had seen him. Thank God. He dropped to sit on the filthy ground and slumped against the wall, too exhausted to care about what rubbish he was planting his ass on, moaning as he tried to catch his breath.

He was satisfied.

It felt like a fever had broken. His mind was clear. His cock was going soft in his grip. He was soft. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like. He marveled admiringly at how much smaller his member was when it was off-duty; had he seen it like that since he'd become a succubus? It was over. He was done. He was free. He let out a hysterical, wheezing, relieved laugh.

Something stirring low in his stomach told him it wouldn't last long.

And next time, he wouldn't be satisfied by imagining being watched.

[bringingglory]

@eerna oh my god acshdgagaahhdvsahsv I never expected you to see my post, so I won't lie, I feel like super embarrassed acsgsga

anyway! not gonna lie, this wip has been sitting in my drafts for months now because I wanted to see if I could plan stuff but then I got stuck because Details are hard to figure out BUT I did write out a few scenes, so I'll put them below the cut because they're kind of long. the first one is the "opening" of the fic and the second one is a sort of reimagining of the Silent Princess memory. i have a few other scenes sort of scribbled out, but these are the most "polished" of the stuff i've written alsdkfjasdfk

the opening lol

Link wakes to a faint buzzing in his ear that sends little darts of pain shooting through his skull. He waits for it to end, and when it doesn’t he groans and rolls over, smacking the space around him to find whatever was making that noise and make it shut up. He can’t fathom why his brain is rolling through his skull like that and why there’s an intense pressure behind his eyes, but when he rolls onto his side, he has to press a hand to his abdomen to settle whatever was sloshing around inside his stomach.

Ah. He’s hungover.

Link peels open his eyes and the light sends a fresh wave of pain ricocheting through his skull. He blinks once, twice, and then forces his eyes open to find a phone the size vibrating against the ground a few inches away from his hand.

Link groans and pushes himself up to a sitting position before grabbing the phone and dismissing the alarm. When the phone falls silent in his hands, he finally looks around and tries to assess the situation.

He’s sitting in a bathtub, the porcelain slightly damp from what he hopes is just water. His shirt smells vaguely of cheap vodka and he still can barely look at the sunlight streaming through the window without wincing.

A moment later, he realizes the phone in his hands isn’t his.

Link holds the phone up to his face and rubs the grogginess from his eyes. He swipes up on the screen, surprised that it isn’t protected by a password.

The phone is open on note in the notes app, and it reads:

link, if you’re reading this right now, im so sorry for leaving you in the tub like that!!! my dad’s supposed to come home from the office today and the document case i was telling you about is missing and he cant know i lost it. i know we just started getting along, and im so sorry to ask you this, but could you find the document case? impa’s in my contacts and she can help you. also you have permission to dig through my phone, just dont judge me if i have anything embarrassing on there. can you find the file by midnight? his flight leaves at 3 and i can stall him until then.

it’s 6:11 right now so i have to run before he gets back, but please hurry! i’ll be waiting for you

-zelda

Link blinks and turns the phone off.

Last night? What happened last night? Why can’t he remember anything?

Well, if his raging headache tells him anything, it’s that he had probably blacked out last night.

Link isn’t usually a drinker or a partier. He isn’t really one to go to big social events. So he’s really confused as to why he woke up passed out in a tub with zero memories.

And also, why Zelda left her phone with him.

a version of the Silent Princess memory but they're at a party and its modern

Zelda laughs. “I think I got a little too sober from the Yiga incident to enjoy the party now.”

Link isn’t sure if he’s supposed to laugh with her, but nods anyway. “Do you want to get some air?”

Zelda gives him an odd look, then sighs. “Yeah. Yes. That would be a good idea.”

Surprisingly, she grabs his forearm and leads him through all the bodies pressed against each other. He can feel the heat of her hand wrapping entirely around his arm like a hot glove, even above the heat of the late summer air and the heat from other people in close proximity.

Somehow, they make it to the other side of the house. Zelda pushes the back door open and pulls him past the other stragglers outside before they find a nice tree with a patch of grass that seems generally clear of alcohol and vomit.

Zelda releases his arm as soon as she finds the tree and she sits down, dropping her head against the trunk.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

Zelda waves her hand vaguely.

Link pauses. “Do you need water?”

“If you get me any more water, I’m probably gonna piss myself,” says Zelda. “Sit down.”

He sits down.

The crickets hum vaguely around them, mingling with the distant buzzing and thumping bass of the music from the party. But without people pressing in from all sides and an open field in front of them, it finally feels like he can take a full breath.

The silence settles over them like a blanket. It feels comfortable to him, but he isn’t sure if it’s supposed to be.

“Oh, Link, look.”

Link cranes his head to see Zelda twist around and point out a blue flower glowing vaguely in the dark. It was beautiful with blue petals so light they looked almost white, and a sky blue bleeding out from the center before fading out.

He wants to give her a questioning look, but she’s transfixed on the flower. He can see the smallest of smiles creeping up onto the corners of her mouth.

“It’s a Silent Princess,” she says. “It was my mom’s favorite flower.”

He can tell something important is happening, so he keeps his mouth shut.

“She said that we can’t grow them domestically yet, despite our best efforts.” Zelda breaks into a full smile and it’s radiant. “The Princess can only thrive out here. In the wild.”

They both turn to look back at the house as another loud WHOOP cuts through the air, followed by the sound of a can being crushed against a head.

“Nature is beautiful,” says Link.

Zelda swats him and he has to bite back a laugh.

She turns and runs a gentle finger along one of the petals before sighing and leaning back against the tree.

“Thank you,” she says suddenly. “For being there with the Yiga. And for being there the whole party.” He can hear her swallow. “I’m sorry for being a bitch.”

“You weren’t being a bitch,” says Link.

“I was, though.” Zelda inhales beside him. “I mean, just because I’m under a lot of stress from my dad doesn’t mean I’m allowed to take it out on other people. I was acting like a kid.”

“To be fair, your dad sounds like an asshole sometimes.”

Zelda snorts. “Yeah. He can be.” He turns his head to see her lean forward to fiddle with the grass. “But he’s got a lot on his plate. And it probably doesn’t help that his daughter doesn’t want anything to do with his ‘legacy.’”

“Just because your dad’s under a lot of pressure doesn’t mean he’s allowed to be an asshole,” Link points out.

Zelda finally looks up at him and offers him a small grin. “Fair enough.”

“And besides, you’re your own person. You don’t need to follow in his footsteps.”

“That’s what I said,” huffs Zelda. “But of course it’s, ‘blah blah you have a responsibility. I didn’t raise you like this so you could waste your time researching pointless things.’” She sighs. “It’s fine. It’s whatever. I came to this stupid party to blow off steam, I guess. But Goddess, I did not eat enough today to drink that many cans of shitty beer.”

Link sits upright, alert. “Do you need to get food or—”

“No, no, that’s fine.” And that smile returns and Link wonders what else he can say to make it stay. “You’re sweet. But I’ve probably gotten drunk enough tonight.” Her eyes slide up to him and the mischief in them stops his heart for a moment. “You still have to try the Hot Frog.”

Link blinked. “...what is that?”

--

the endings are abrupt on both of them just bc i wasn't entirely sure how to end them akldjfasd. also the "Hot Frog" is gonna be some kind of mixed drink that gets link really drunk -- me trying to allude more to the original memory from the game haha

anyway, thank you so much for the ask! and thank u for coming up with the shitpost because it made me laugh the first time i read it hasdklfj hopefully i'll continue this one day and do ur shitpost au justice!

[fuwahiko]

NOT ME TAKING LITERAL DAYS TO FIGURE OUT HOW MUCH BACKSTORY I WANTED TO GIVE THIS AND ACCIDENTALLY CLOSING THE APP AND LOSING WHAT I HAD WHEN I WAS FINALLY GETTING SOMEWHERE I-

Im a disaster but i finally got my head on straight alright HERE'S SOME OUMOTA FOR YA

SO. The V3 kids have gone on the town to hang out. Why? They were sick of always going to Amami's house. They needed a change of scenery. What are they doing? Karaoke? Bowling? Who knows. But they're all making fun of each other.

Their collective love language towards each other is bullying.

At some point, a lot of people get hungry. Miu, for some ungodly reason, yells at Kokichi to go and order for them. And bring the food down when it's done. For some even ungodlier reason, Kokichi agrees. Without an argument. Not even an insult.

He does kiss Kaito while flipping everyone off before walking off, but now everyone's scared of what the gremlin's planning. Only Kaito's safe if Kokichi's got something planned. Boyfriend priveleges work...sometimes.

With Kokichi, he's waiting for everyone's food when someone shouts his name...or something close to it. Intrigued, he turns around and immediately tenses up. But only slightly.

It his ex-boyfriend. Kokichi never wanted to see this ex (who i call Fuckface McAsshole) again. It wasn't healthy, and when he tried to break it off, said ex lost it and dragged shit out for a week and a half. Kokichi was about to turn and rush towards Kaito and the others, because safety in numbers (plus Kaito could throw a mean punch), but the ex got there first. He had also accidentally left his phone on the table with the others.

There was no calling for help. Kokichi was stuck.

So he was forced to play the long game. He didn't wanna make a scene in such a public place. He let his ex talk and talk and talk while retaining none of what he was saying. When the ex noticed Kokichi wasn't listening, he commented. ("...why aren't you listening to me, Ko? Got somewhere better to be? With people that actually want you around? Fucking doubt it.")

When he hears that, Kokichi snaps. Not completely, but enough to get snappy

"Actually, my friends and boyfriend are waiting on their food. I'm here to get their food. And I can't hear the person calling out numbers because of your blabbering. So be quiet."

Kokichi knew he shouldn't have snapped. He knew as soon as his ex's eyes widened, then narrowed. He'd never admit it, but that look made him slightly nervous.

From there, everything escalates very quickly. Quicker than Kokichi anticipated. It's about to get real ugly in two seconds. And everyone's going to hear and stare at whatever's going to go down.

......soooooo now i hand it off to you. What exactly happens between Kokichi and his ex? How do the V3 kids find out about all this, and how do they react? How does Kokichi react after that fiasco? And what do they all (extra emphasis on Kaito bc Oumota) do to try and comfort and/or cheer up Kokichi after THAT?

(Did i listen to "Happier than Ever" by Billie Eilish when i thought of this...maybe i did and maybe i didn't. You can't prove anything.)

this is a really interesting scenario! kokichi feeling so backed up into a corner like that is certainly unusual, for one thing.

ok ok so I like the idea of like, kokichi trying to work on himself a lot. dude needs therapy. and in this au I can see it being the case that kokichi has been working through stuff a lot and has managed to become so close with everyone because of that - like I'm sure in a non despair au he wouldn't be quite so... ~the way that he is~ anyway, but he'd likely still have a lot of issues and struggle to get along with everyone at first, but then with some encouragement from someone he trusts and gets along with more (kaito? maybe someone else? maybe it's more of a slowburn with him getting closer to kaito?) he'd eventually start going to therapy and start slowly working on himself, as well as starting over with some people he maybe started off on the wrong foot with before. it might take some time, but eventually even the people that really didn't get along with him start to open up a little and try to understand him more, and he does the same for them. everyone sees how hard kokichi is trying, and he's really changing for the better, and that inspires them to work on themselves too and it brings everyone a lot closer.

so. when kokichi's ex shows up, it stirs all of this awfulness inside of him, all of this bitterness. it ends up starting to pull at the worst things within kokichi, trying to bring it all to the surface, and kokichi is trying his hardest to stop himself from saying something horrible, from making a scene, from making every stranger in the area turn to look at him with that look that makes him want to disappear. he's trying so hard not to fall back into old habits and old behaviours; he's been working so hard and finally things are looking up for once.

but then he slips up.

he knew he shouldn't have said anything, but his ex wasn't going to leave him alone anyway, and suppressing his own emotions was getting too difficult, so he had to do something. but now his ex was glaring at him even more than before, and kokichi could feel the rage radiating from him, and he immediately regretted ever opening his mouth. but he'd already come this far, and his ex had backed him so far into the corner that all kokichi could do was bite back just as hard.

kokichi's ex raised his voice, and it was like the floodgates had been opened. everything he was saying was blurring together into an endless string of sharp needles that pierced into kokichi, targeting all of his weak points, hurting him over and over, each needle piercing deeper than the last. kokichi snapped back, his own voice just as loud, throwing insult after insult and trying to dig up all that he could think of to hurt him back, trying to find just the right words to hurt his ex even deeper than he had hurt him, all the while a smirk spread across his face as kokichi pretended like he was enjoying himself, enjoying this conflict, but with every word he fired back he only felt more hatred towards himself. it was a form of self destruction, and now that he'd started hurting himself, kokichi didn't know how to stop.

just when kokichi felt like his own self hatred was going to swallow him whole, he half-registered footsteps growing louder just out of view. then, before he knew it, suddenly his ex was being lifted off the ground in front of him.

kokichi's eyes widened as he finally processed what he was looking at. it was kaito. kaito was here and he had grabbed the ex by his shirt and lifted him up, a furious expression spread across kaito's face.

"the fuck are you doing to kokichi?!" kaito practically roared as he held his free hand in a fist.

after maybe a brief moment of relief, kokichi felt fear and panic grab hold of him, and when he met eyes with kaito he seemed to immediately understand exactly what he was feeling.

kaito let go, letting kokichi's ex drop and stumble as he found his footing. "sorry. I wasn't gonna do anything, I didn't mean to scare you." kaito looked ashamed now, and he turned away from kokichi for a moment. kaito had been working on himself a lot too, specifically dealing with anger issues and his tendency to resort to violence when things got hard to deal with, and he'd been making a lot of progress. kaito knew he would've decked this guy if kokichi hadn't looked so upset, and he felt horrible about it. he felt awful that he was just reverting back to his usual ways, and he felt even more awful because he'd made kokichi feel worse, even if only for a second. he felt like such a disappointment. kokichi felt horrible too, and he felt like it was his own fault that kaito had gotten so worked up, that if he'd just dealt with his ex in another way then kaito never would've gotten dragged into this. kokichi had brought the worst out of himself, and now he felt he was doing the same to kaito, pulling him down with him.

just then, security showed up and asked them to leave. kokichi and kaito both had the thought of telling them that the ex was the problem and that they'd just been going about their day until he started shit, but neither of them said anything, just left without making any more fuss. they gave them their money back for the food at least, but now the whole thing had just been a waste.

when they grouped up with the others outside again, kaito holding kokichi's hand as they walked, everyone was chatting and laughing together as they had been doing all day, but they all quickly realised something was up as they saw how shaken kokichi looked and how kaito's face was scrunched up with frustration. of course they'd also seen that the two of them were empty handed, but that wasn't their main concern.

"guys? what's wrong?" kaede rushed over to see them, a look of worry spread across her face. kaito squeezed kokichi's hand a little tighter as he told them all what he'd walked in on. he decided to do the talking himself, knowing kokichi was struggling at the moment and not wanting him to have to explain everything on top of that. he didn't really know what had been happening exactly, but he'd gathered that this guy had been kokichi's ex, and he knew he'd started something with kokichi because he knew that kokichi would never start anything like that himself now.

maki suggested they all move to somewhere quieter, so they headed down a nearby street that lead to an open area with a park that was surrounded by a long wall that was low enough to sit on. kaito sat with kokichi on the wall, pulling him in close at his side and wrapping his arm around him firmly, reassuringly. kaede sat on kokichi's other side, speaking gently and offering to let him borrow her earphones to listen to some music to help him calm down. he refused, but he appreciated the thought. himiko sat on the grass at his feet in silence, but he knew her well enough now to know she was trying her best to support him, even if she didn't know what to say or do. shuichi and maki sat down beside kaito, who was calmer now, but concerned for kokichi and still upset with himself.

"it's all my fault..." kokichi mumbled sadly, his head resting against kaito and his hand clinging onto his shirt. "it's not your fault. he started it, didn't he?" kaito questioned, already knowing the answer. "not that. I mean... I got you involved." kaito ran the hand that was holding kokichi up and down gently along his arm to comfort him, his free hand reaching to stroke his hair. "don't worry about that, that's not your fault at all. I shouldn't have lost my cool. ...sorry again about startling you." kokichi shook his head. kaito felt kokichi's body start shaking, and he realised he was crying. "I'm the worst... I'm the worst, I'm the worst, I'm the worst." kokichi cried as he buried his face further and tried to hide away. "nothing's changed, I'm just as shitty and horrible and worthless as I always have been... I should've just... done things different... but I did the same as I always do..."

of course. kaito finally realised the real reason why he was so upset. sure he was upset over his ex showing up and the nasty things he'd been saying, but now that they were away from him he was more upset with himself than anything, because he'd worked so hard and he felt like none of that work had actually gotten him anywhere. he felt like change wasn't possible, because if he'd reacted that way then to him that surely meant that he was exactly the same as he'd always been, despite how much he'd tried.

"hey. that's not true and you know it." kaito was about to continue, but miu interrupted. "yep, that's bullshit. ha! if you think you're terrible, that guy sounds ten times worse! what a loser." gonta also spoke up, obviously very upset that anyone would raise their voice at his friend. "hmm... that not how gentleman should act. should be polite, even if ex doesn't like you."

"kokichi, we can all see how far you've come and how hard you've been working, so please don't beat yourself up over this one time. that guy is the one at fault, he put you in a difficult position, a really difficult position, and you wouldn't have reacted that way otherwise." kaede reassured him. "she's right, you wouldn't do that unless you felt you had no other choice." shuichi agreed as he handed kokichi some tissues. kokichi had calmed down somewhat, but he needed to get his emotions out still, so everyone waited patiently, offering words of support every so often, kaito still holding him and placing a few kisses on the top of his head, until kokichi stopped crying and pulled away, sitting up and drying his eyes.

angie jumped up off of the grass. "we should do something fun!" rantaro looked up at her from where he was sitting. "you mean like a distraction?" "nyahahaha! yes! doing something fun will help kokichi take his mind off things and feel better!" "do you have something in mind?" kiibo asked. angie thought about it for a moment. "hmm... nope!" rantaro sighed. "we shall just have to think of something, and we should also find somewhere else to eat as well." kirumi said as she stood up, dusting off the front and back of her dress.

ideas began getting thrown around and the atmosphere lightened up quickly - everyone chatting and suggesting fun things to do together, kokichi just quietly listening, but feeling a lot more comfortable again and appreciating his friends' efforts to cheer him up. it wasn't too long before kokichi was joining in, though, and everyone was relieved to see him slowly returning to his usual self; a bit immature, sometimes annoying, but funny, sweet, so full of life. kokichi was someone they'd all grown to love, no matter how things might have started out for some of them with him, and he wasn't at all who he thought he was when he was feeling down on himself. they hoped that one day kokichi would finally understand that.

[charrfie]

Alright now that its officially Forzen Friday let's try this post again since it didn't show up in the tags last time-

I'M FINALLY MAKING A FORZEN HC DUMP (kinda AU-ish territory but not really idk exactly) AND NONE OF YOU CAN STOP ME

There are also a few other hcs sprinkled in here related to other characters (like Darnold and Sunkist for example) but Forzen is the main focus!! Despite him being a minor character I latched onto him and fleshed him out sm yall have no idea

Everything under the cut bc this shit is gonna be LONG (and there's also some more doodles that take up a bit of space!)

Also uhh if people like this I might take one for another hlvrai character later bc I have a lot to say about everyone!!

Forzen moved from France to the US with his parents when he was around 12 or 13 (yes, I'm aware that Scorpy and Holly are French Canadian and not France French but that doesn't mean Forzen can't be, I'm just being sure to say this now before someone says something to me about it)

He wanted to go to college and eventually become a game dev, but he didn't have the funds or the support for it (his family thought anything to do with games would amount to a career that would go nowhere).

Because of this, he instead was recruited in the US military. He originally had no intent to join, but after constantly being harrassed recommended to join and being entertained with the concept of being able to afford and pay for college, he caved (hence him telling the science team that his only goal is "to graduate").

He doesn't like his job very much if that wasn't clear.

And neither do most others that have the same job like him.

He was put on a "team" of his own, Team Nice, which was likely arranged as a guaranteed way to get Forzen in the way of danger, and with no one else fighting beside him, he would be easily dealt with- no one would have to worry about him bothering them again. However, he somehow manages to survive all of this, of course. Somehow. He likely knows the real reason he was assigned his own team (if you can even call it that), but refuses to fully acknowledge it for his own sanity, and instead pretends that he's some big, important person on a team that ranks so highly, he's the only one qualified to be in it. (I apologize ahead of time for giving one of the most shitposty and throwaway characters in hlvrai this much depth and angst, there was just potential there leave me alone)

Fast forward to the actual events of hlvrai though. This hc is a little outlandish but I really like the concept!!! So, at one point, Forzen is killed, presumably by some kind of creature that was out and about due to the RenCas. The science team + Benrey stumble across him (act 2 part 2 at around 13 min in for anyone curious), and Benrey decides to use the healing beam Sweet Voice on him. While Benrey and Forzen may not be on good terms anymore, Benrey still very begrudgingly cares about him and didn't want to see him get injured or die. Forzen wakes up a minute or so after the science team exits the room, assuming that he just passed out, nothing more, and goes along with things as normal.

He meets Darnold a while after his first (concious) run in with the science team. Darnold has recently dealt with the science team and helped them out, but is pretty bummed that he couldn't travel with them, as everything was far too scary and dangerous for him. Forzen, wanting to escape Black Mesa and the military altogether, ends up making a deal with him that he'll handle all the dangerous stuff if Darnold can show him a way out.

Now, meeting Darnold is a very new experience for him, since Darnold actually enjoys his company, and actually wants to befriend him! At first, Forzen openly tries to act as if Darnold is a huge deal to put up with- he goes along with with the whole "if you're escaping outta this hellhole with me, you better keep up" kinda deal (despite the fact that he kinda NEEDS Darnold to escape and show him the way out). His walls are still very much so raised, and he doesn't let his guard down as he's not used to others caring about him and his safety. But as time passes, he begins to realize that maybe Darnold DOES want to be his friend, and the tough guy act becomes less apparent.

To preface this next one- Sunkist sensed that something was up (he has a next-level sense of danger when it comes to Tommy's safety) and got to BM as fast as he could, searching every hallway for his boy. This is when Forzen finds him!! He figures that taking Sunkist as a hostage would be enough to get extra info out of the team that's been practically plaguing him lately.

Darnold doesn't know about Forzen's plans to take Sunkist hostage, so is completely fine with traveling alongside him. At one point though, Forzen and Darnold get separated (Forzen occupies him, makes sure hes safe and then runs off to deal with Sunkist). Darnold immediately uses his surroundings to model a quick little teleporter device to get Forzen back, because, you know, the man's a genius. Idc if its logical or not just go with it shhh I've gotta fill in the plotholes with something. That's why Forzen disappears all of a sudden after he's cornered by the science team. He just pops back in front of Darnold suddenly, all confused and loopy from the whole teleportation thing.

As things begin to wind down, Darnold and Forzen make it out of BM and start making a break for it, no idea how they'll get away from BM and to safety somewhere- they didnt really think things through.

Fortunately (or unfortunately for Forzen really), however, G-man picks both of them up. He means to drop Darnold off at Tommy's party, as he observed that Darnold helped his son to safety and is grateful for it. Forzen, though, he intends to "deal with" for messing things up so badly with Tommy, Sunkist, and all of Tommy's friends. This is where Darnold finds out about everything Forzen did and frankly gets really pissed with him since he thought he only had good intentions??? Luckily though, Darnold convinces G-man to give him a second chance, let him go to Tommy's party and apologize, and try things again. G-man, for some reasons agrees- probably bc hes in a good mood, as it IS his son's birthday.

The party is pretty uncomfortable to say the least. Tommy's extremely hesitant to talk to Forzen, but he does, and they end up on neutral terms by the end of it. Uneasy, but neutral. Tommy and Darnold hit it off though, and Tommy opens the invitation to Darnold that he can visit his place anytime now that everything at BM is over with.

As everyone's getting ready to leave, Forzen mentions to Darnold that he doesn't have a place to stay, seeing as the entire military was kinda. Yknow. Wiped out. Obviously wouldn't wanna go back to check anyways. And he has no interest in going home to his parents. So Darnold agrees to let him stay with him since they've become good pals over the course of everything.

Over time, Darnold visits Tommy more and more often. He starts bringing Forzen along, which Tommy is iffy of at first, but their dynamic starts to change and become more comfortable once Tommy sees that Forzen isnt interested in being enemies anymore.

Sunkist and Forzen still don't get along for a very long time. Or, well- it's moreso that Sunkist is very wary about Forzen, despite him not doing anything to harm either Sunkist or Tommy.

Oh yeah and almost forgot to mention one of my favorite hcs (that I PROMISE you started out as a joke but then I got attached) is Sunkist can talk!! So his first spoken interaction with Forzen after Forzen comes over to visit for the first time is literally just him being all threatening and laying down the ground rules bc he doesn't want Forzen to hurt Tommy at all in any way. And of course Forzen about has a heart attack bc "HUH??????? THERE'S A DOG THAT IS SPEAKING HUMAN WORDS TO ME"

UHH I HAVE MORE (I've written out so much shit about dynamics and what I'd think would happen even after all of this) BUT I DON'T WANT THIS TO BE TOO LONG like it already is SO I SUPPOSE I'LL LEAVE IT AT THAT FOR NOW!!!! I hope this isn't too ooc either, I just have Emotions about this series and write too much so why not share it yknow

[cherry-seungmin]

while you were asleep | hwang hyunjin

genre: fluff

word count: 587

a/n: i’m going to be posting a lot of school stories lol bc school is back in session. (lowercase intended)

synopsis: everyday y/n goes to the school library during lunch. does she do homework? does she study? nope; she takes naps. school takes a toll on her every night and her procrastination doesn't help either. she never really gets enough sleep, so lunchtime is the perfect time to catch up. recently, someone has been leaving her little items on her table while she's asleep. she's determined to figure out who it is!

isolated in the corner of library sat y/n hidden from sight behind the many bookshelves. her head laid on her arm spread across the table as she slept. a figure came up to her table and carefully placed something on her table and ran away quickly when she slightly moved letting out a small snore.

the bell rang, signaling lunch was over, waking up y/n. opening her eyes, they lit up seeing a small bottle of coffee and a sticky note.

'they came again?' she stood up and grabbed the coffee and read the sticky note while walking out of the library to class.

the note read, ' it seems like you were super tired bc you were in a deep sleep! (not trying to sound like a stalker >.<) try not to stress too much with all this school work! i'll be cheering you on!!                            - hh    ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡ '

a hand snatched the note out of her hand. "ooooo y/n what's this? ...are you blushing?" her friend said. y/n frantically reached to grab back the note. "stop!! give it back!" she was too late, her friend already read it.

"that's so cute! you have an admirer! but who would like someone who drools." y/n's friend teased. y/n softly punched her and pouted, "hey!"

f/n's laughed, "i'm just kidding! but anyways, do you have any idea who it is?"

"i don't knooooow."

"wait! i have an idea to figure out who it is!" her friend yelled.

- - -

it was the next day and y/n was in the library. as usual she was in her sleeping  in the corner, but this day it was different. y/n wasn't actually sleeping. she was wide awake.

'alright plan y/n! when you hear someone place something on the table slowly pretend to wake up and quickly see who it is!' she began to think.

with her plan in mind, she waited looking at the darkness of her eyelids. time passed so slowly.

'i might actually fall asleep if i stay like this. where are-' she whined before getting interrupted by the small chuckle.

"why is she pouting like that? cute." someone mumbled and placed down the usual coffee with a sticky note. y/n was in a shock as she recognized the voice.

'hyunjin?' she thought. without thought, she quickly disregarded the plan made earlier and opened her eyes. he jumped back and yelped in surprised. in a hurry, she stood up and covered his mouth.

"sshhh! we're in the library." she whispered.

"you were awake?"

"you're my admirer?" they both talked at the same time.

hyunjin replied first, "i wouldn't call it an admirer," he blushed.

"okay sure stalker." she teased and picked up the note off the bottle of coffee.

"no!" he stated loudly then quieted, "i uh...-"

"aw i like you too." y/n looked up after reading the note. hyunjin was startled.

“i’ve actually liked you for a while.” she confessed. he let out a breath of relief and hugged her.

“and here i thought that you thought that i was a creep.”

y/n laughed and hugged him back.

“i wasn’t sure if you liked me. i only felt confident coming up to you while you were asleep,” he sheepishly stated as he pulled back from the hug, “this doesn’t even feel real.” hyunjin’s eye smile signaled his fondness of the moment.

“well it turns out that while i was asleep,” she smiles back at him,

”my dreams were becoming reality.”