#i'll make something based off this if i ever end up having the energy

[letbuckfuck]

listening to orange juice by noah kahan thinking about eddie. and how the perspective of the song could shift from his parents talking about him to eddie talking about shannon back to his parents now talking about christopher. im gonna be sick

[chuluoyi]

✎ heaven's fury

- gojo satoru x reader

sometimes you forget that your husband has burdens as the strongest sorcerer alive. when he goes back home from a bad day and you're the first person he comes contact to, you're made aware of it once again

genre: angry!gojo, a bit of hurt with looots of comfort and fluff !! it’s self-indulgent too🤭

note: i knooow i said i'll post gojo angst next, but i forgot i have this in backburner too so... this hurt/comfort goes first :') based on an anon's request. loosely takes place after baby!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

“Sukuna's vessel is a threat— he must be executed as soon as possible!”

“The more we put this off, the greater the risk he poses to society!”

“Gojo, you can't delay his sentence any longer—!”

Weak. All of them. They always make excuses. Trying to pin blame on someone else.

The jujutsu world he lives in… is wretched. Gojo Satoru thought he knew that well already, or at least knew enough to not get riled up over it.

Apparently not.

“Gojo-sensei? You look scary...”

Typically, he would mask his clear disdain with sharp-witted jibes, but he reached his limit this time. Especially since they had been pressuring him relentlessly to execute Itadori Yuji for at least five times a week, each week.

. . .

“Satoru, oh, you're home already!”

At the end of it all, he went home with the worst of moods. It served as a reminder—of his deep-seated contempt for weakness and how burdensome he found the task of protecting the insufferable to be.

“Satoru...?”

And it's because of their weakness that Suguru—

“Satoru, are you—?”

“Just fucking shut it!”

And that was when he saw you, standing before him with wide eyes, cradling your—his—precious baby in your arms, who was sound asleep.

“Huh…?”

Satoru immediately tensed up, realizing his mistake. And what hit him even harder was— is that a flicker of hurt he saw flashing across your face?

If so, then you quickly blinked it away because in the next instant, your face lit up with a warm smile— kind of forced, to his dismay. “Welcome home, Satoru.”

Something inside him churned, his heart started to ache, and there was a bitter taste in his mouth then.

There you were, as accepting as ever, and he cherished you for it.

But not tonight. Not for this. You didn't deserve any of his misplaced resentment.

Damn it. Damn it all!

In response, he offered you a subtle nod and headed to the bathroom, thinking a shower might help clear his foul mood away.

Contrary to what Satoru might think, you didn't really hold anything against him.

You were surprised, yes, because he was usually such a ball of energy even when he got back from intercity missions, but more than the hurt, you would understand if now, he was pissed some way or another.

Your husband is still a human. He is entitled to be upset on some days.

After ensuring your son was comfortably asleep in his cot, you returned to your bedroom to find Satoru already in bed, facing away from you. Hmph... now that you thought about it, this silence between you was unacceptable.

“Satoru.” You poked his side, but he didn't budge and still had his eyes shut. You arched an eyebrow. “Satoru? You can't be asleep.”

“…” No answer. Okay, let's try something else.

“Honey, talk to me? Hmm?” you decided to swallow the heat on your face as you addressed him more intimately. Mind you, you didn't usually call him that. He was the one in charge of pet names.

“…” This shithead. That's it.

“Satoru, my tummy hurts—”

“What?” In an instant, he flipped over, abruptly sitting up. “What hurts—”

Seizing the opportunity, you tugged him by the neck, and both of you tumbled onto the bed, with him landing on top of you. Satoru instinctively held himself up and cushioned the back of your head with his hand so you wouldn’t crash into the headboard—his blue eyes wildly flickering, searching for any sign of discomfort or harm.

“You good?” he made a face upon realizing your ruse.

“You won’t talk to me otherwise,” you noted with a hint of annoyance. But then your eyes softened into a concerned frown. “Satoru… what’s wrong?”

Once again, Satoru felt hollow. You were worried and it reached him. “It’s nothing,” he replied, looking away, trying to downplay his fury.

You pulled him close, his head against your chest, and though he was stiff and taken aback at first, he released a reluctant sigh and instinctively snuggled closer, finding comfort in your embrace.

“There, there…” you soothed with a smile, gently running your fingers through his hair. “Feel better now?”

He let out another sigh against you, returning the hug and nuzzling his face against your chest. His body heat enveloped you like a blanket.

And after a while...

“...’m sorry for yelling at you...” he muttered with such regret it made your eyes widen. “Didn’t mean it.”

The slight prickle in your heart dissipated at once, hearing his muffled voice.

“Mm-hmm, I know.”

“Really.”

“Mmm, really, really.”

He held you a little tighter, breathing in your scent, and you kept stroking his head. He looked so despondent it warmed your heart, and made you want to pet him. “Our baby loves being held like this too,” you giggled fondly. “You big baby… you’re just like him.”

Your husband let out a soft grunt against your chest, exhaling deeply.

“Whenever you’re ready, talk to me, yes?”

And so after several more pats on his head, Satoru finally told you everything, about how the higher-ups were relentlessly pressing him to put an end to Yuji, the new kid he recently enrolled to the jujutsu school.

“They're just some paranoid old fools—”

“Mm-hmm.”

“—stinky, cringey, looks depressed most of the time—”

“Heh— now that's just plain disrespect.”

“Yuji is just clueless and just has a lot to learn,” Satoru grumbled sullenly. “They didn't even teach him a thing and incapable to— how dare they? To keep him ignorant and then murder him?”

...oh.

And at that moment, you found clarity. Why he got so worked up, why he got irate this time whereas he was usually insensitive.

First, it was because of your tragic youth. No one protected Haibara from his unfortunate incident and was there for Geto when he needed it the most—which still haunted him to this day.

And secondly, because he himself is a father too. No one deserves their youth being taken away. That has been his moral compass, and the sense grows even stronger ever since the baby was born.

It made something inside you flutter.

“Satoru...” you breathed out, smiling, squeezing him affectionately. “You’re ... a kind person.”

“Huh?”

“You take it upon yourself to mentor those kids,” you mused. “Just look at Megumi and Yuta; they've turned out just fine.”

Truthfully, Satoru didn't consider himself as kind as you made him out to be. At times he felt like he was doing it because it was right, sometimes he thought it was for fun, and at other times, he simply didn't feel like seeing more deaths or wrong paths. And he was sure if you had asked Megumi whether he was a good teacher or not, the grumpy boy would only roll his eyes.

But then, just as he looked up at you, the prettiest smile blossomed on your face, and you said to him—

“And as your wife, I’m... proud of you.”

The way you sincerely told him that made his breath catch in his throat, and his heart pound a little faster.

The woman who has become his everything. This unabashed, pure love you show him.

“Sweets, I—” he suddenly rose, back to on top of you. But his voice faltered, remembering the way he coldly snapped at you earlier. “I...”

You looked up at him innocently. And he swallowed the shame because he had to tell you too.

Because you were so, so incredibly precious to him, and he wanted you to know that.

“…love you,” he mumbled, his beautiful eyes meeting yours with no hesitation. His cheeks were burning, tinted with a shade of pink—and you out of all people knew best that him being embarrassed meant as good as him not being horny—

But before you could point it out, he leaned down towards you, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. There was no trace of the man who was hungry for your body— it was just a long, chaste kiss that contained his feelings for you.

And when he pulled back, both of you were panting slightly, trying to catch your breath. Then, he pursed his lips, his eyes glittery—somehow reminding you of your baby's face just before he cried out for his milk.

“I wanna pay for my sin. Wanna cuddle you too.”

And so you let him. He held you close, his arm under your head and you traced lazy lines on his chest, feeling contented and somewhat giddy.

“You feel that bad, huh?” you chuckled, noticing his continued gloominess.

“I am,” he puffed out his cheeks before pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Because if anyone else dares to tell you off like that, I'll wreck them on the spot.”

“Hmm, how romantic. But come to think about it... you did look a little scary though...”

At that moment, he felt his heart drop, his eyes instantly rounded in alarm, looking at you with dismay.

“No, no, I'm not scary! Wifey, I'm your devoted and loving husband!”

Epilogue

Your morning started with your baby's cries. When you glanced over, Satoru was gone from your bed already. Curious, you made your way to the baby's room, and what you saw there caused you to raise an eyebrow.

"Satoru... what are you...?"

He turned to you with an expression so heartbroken as he rocked his wailing baby. "He keeps crying, I don't know why..."

However, your attention was drawn more to his disheveled appearance. Messy hair, slitted eyes as if he hadn't brushed off sleep, and most of all, the dark eyebags under his eyes.

"Uh, Satoru... give him to me."

When he did, your baby calmed down almost instantly, his sobs turning into light sniffles, and your husband could only scratch his head in confusion.

"Why...? When I tried to look at him, he cried even harder—"

"...no offense, but if I were a baby and someone who looks like a panda holds me up, I'd get scared and cry too."

Satoru let out a theatrical gasp, clutching his chest as he hovered over your baby—

"Nooo! Papa didn't mean to scare you—!"

...but to his horror, your baby turned away from him, hiding his face in your chest instead.

[hihomeghere]

Hello my new favorite creator! I just saw your response to my last request (the soft y/n dom one) and I'm deffo going to formally request you turn it into a story (if you're not doing that already) I've been reading more of your content and it's quickly becoming an addiction 😅 any way I'll be a big supporter from the shadows <333 -🧛 anon (Naming myself lol)

Routine | Five Hargreeves / F!Reader

Part of the Tesoro series (Can be read as a one shot)

Word Count : 2.3k Summary : After the confession, Five and reader head back to a hotel room. Soft dom y/n. Aged up!Five Warnings/Tags : Smut, handjob, masturbation, piv, cursing, fluff at the end, this is filth enjoy <3 ( I do not own the umbrella academy or any of it's characters )

If Five was anything, he was a creature of habit. His father had ingrained that in him from a young age. Chores, training, studies, hell even his meal times were scheduled. His entire life was based on routine. 

Then he was stuck in the apocalypse, and even though there were millions of things Five could be mad at his father about, he had to appreciate his sense for routine. It kept him alive, he still had a set time to eat (if he had anything to eat), but instead of training he was scavenging. Picking through a wasteland for anything edible, along with trying to find a sustainable source of clean water. While picking through for food, he would also collect anything to help conserve his energy. Things like his bike or wagon, etc. His definition of ‘resting’ was mainly anytime he could sit down. During those periods he would work on equations, trying to find a way out of there and back to his family. And although it wasn’t strictly in his routine, mental breakdowns always seemed to weasel their way into his day. 

Thankfully, both of those routines were a thing of the past. Now his routine consisted of reading up on case files before going into the field. He’d kill whoever he had to and afterwards he’d reward himself with fucking his fist until he fell asleep. Did it make him feel a bit disgusted with himself, yes, but masturbation had been the only stress relief he’d ever had. Again, just another one of his constants throughout the years. What he hadn’t accounted for was you. At first he had marked you off as a nuisance. Like the cockroaches that somehow managed to survive alongside Five, although you were much nicer to look at. 

Five knew he was in trouble when he started subconsciously adding your routines into his. You would start getting hungry around 11:30 every day, like clockwork. So he had started planning his lunches for around 11:30, not because the thought of you eating alone made his heart seize in his chest, just to make his work more efficient. It aggravated him to have to wait for you to be finished with your lunch, only for him to get hungry once you returned. So out of convenience, he started eating lunch with you. Little things like that.

He couldn’t exactly say he was surprised. You were always one to throw wrenches in the works. Although he didn’t account for a deviation of this size into his plan. When he kissed you, a silent confession on his feelings, he knew there would be no going back. You were it for him. He loved you and you seemed to share those feelings. Your lips crashed against his as he fumbled with the key to the hotel room. You giggled into the kiss, something so sickly sweet. His hands were back on you as soon as the door swung open. Pulling the key out of the lock and throwing it onto a side table as he kicked the door close behind you. His hands were everywhere, touching and squeezing. Your breasts, oh god, your tits. He couldn’t get enough of them, his hand flew under your blouse, pinching your nipple through your  bra. You gasped softly, your hands threading through his hair. He stopped, admiring your flushed face as he kicked off his shoes. Your lips parted slightly, hot breath fanning across his face, a light splattering of blood across your cheek. 

You pulled away, and he almost whined at the loss of contact. What was happening to him? Did you really have such a hold on him? He was taken back to his younger years, when his father would read from Homer’s Odyssey. He had never paid much attention to the sirens, that was more of Diegos and Luthers interest. He wished he had listened to Circe’s warnings like Odysseus, now he was sure he had met a siren in person. He was bewitched by you, drawn to you like iron to a magnet. Five was sure you were more beautiful than Helen of Troy, hell even Aphrodite would be jealous of your beauty. 

“I’m going to take a shower.” You smiled, pushing him back onto the bed before kissing his cheek. Another one of your routines, always showering after a mission. You made a show of undressing yourself, slowly unbuttoning your blouse. Then shimmying out of your trousers. You hooked your fingers under your bra strap, pulling them down at an agonizing pace. You unhooked your bra, throwing it onto the chair. Five’s eyes never left your body until you were behind the bathroom door. He gulped, his cock painfully pressed against the crotch of his slacks. He hurried to pull himself free, the buckle of his belt clinking metal against metal. He started to get frantic in his movements, unzipping his pants and kicking them off along with his underwear. His cock sprung up against his stomach. He let out a sigh, spitting into his hand. He grabbed himself, lubricating his dick with his spit. At times like this he wondered if was seriously fucked in the head. But normally once he ran his thumb over the slit on his head any negative thoughts would be tucked away. He arched his neck, letting out a shaky breath as he started to stroke himself. His mind wandering to you, always you. “Fuck,” he sighed squeezing the base of his cock. Your flushed face, a blush painting your cheeks. That slutty fucking skirt you wore, tight around your hips, he didn’t know how you got that little thing over your ass. He groaned, his eyes rolling back as he picked up the pace. How your lips felt against his throat as you ordered him to cum, your tits bouncing with each of his thrusts. His hips jolted up into his hand, he craved more, his other hand gently cupped his balls. He was close, his breath getting caught in his throat. “Y/n.” He whined, his eyes fluttering close.

“Starting without me?” You asked leaning on the doorway to the bathroom. Clad in only a towel, tightly wrapped around your body. He froze, caught red handed with his pants down. Fuck he was so close. He tugged on himself, chasing after his high as it slowly slipped away. You stopped him, swatting his hand away from his dick. “Excuse me?” You scoffed, your arms crossed above him. You stared down at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“What?” He asked, his eyebrows knitting together. You grabbed his face, your fingers pressing his lips together, his skin dimpling under your grip. His breath hitched, his eyes going wide. “Y/n, what are you doing?” He said through squished lips.

“You started without me.” You repeated, a wolfish grin spreading across your face. He scoffed, rolling his eyes. You turned his face so he was looking at you, his green eyes wide. He let out a surprised sound, “Now, would you like to finish?” You asked with a commanding voice. His eyes flicked all over your face. 

“Y-yes.” He stuttered, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. You let go of his face, walking backwards until the back of your knees hit the plush chair. You sank down onto the chair, slowly undoing your towel, letting it pool around your body. 

He stared at you, his eyebrows still furrowed. You chuckled to yourself, his expression taking you back to the first night you spent together. So unsure of himself, his hands twitched against the sheets. His dick stood at attention, brushing against his white shirt. His angry red tip made a wet spot on his shirt. 

“Take off your shirt first,” you said, leaning back in the chair, spreading your legs. It was like he had been frozen until your command. His eager fingers moved to his shirt, unbuttoning the buttons quickly. He tore it off of him, throwing it onto the floor. He turned to you for his next instructions, a newfound glint in his eye. “You can touch yourself.” You cooed, immediately his hand wrapped around his cock. Stroking himself with fever, he wet his bottom lip, his hips jolting against his fist. Five was so pretty like this, not that he wasn’t a gorgeous man, but he was so vulnerable. Pride bloomed in your chest knowing that you were the only one allowed to see Five like this. His head fell back, giving you a gorgeous view of his neck. He let out a strangled whine, his lips parting. You sat up, unable to help yourself. You stalked towards him, your hands holding his shoulders. Your lips attacked his neck, nipping and sucking on his neck. Dark spots adorning his pale skin.

“Fuck,” he moaned, leaning into your touch. You reached down, pulling his hand away. He let out a frustrated whine, biting his lip as he stared into your eyes. You smiled sweetly, kissing his cheek over his two freckles, before squeezing his shaft. You began to pump him harshly, sucking a deep mark on his collarbone. His hands flew to your hips, holding them with a vice like grip. “I’m gonna cum.” He said through his gritted teeth, “please let me cum.” He squeezed your hips, his fingers digging into your soft skin.

“You can cum baby,” You chuckled, licking a stripe up his neck. He cried out his hips jolting against your hand as ropes of cum shot out onto your fist. You grinned, working him through his orgasm. A pained expression painting his features. As he came down from his high, he softly rubbed circles onto your hips. 

“That was…” He trailed off clearing his throat, his hands drifting upwards on his body. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him flush against your body.

“Never would have guessed Mr. Five Hargreeves would be so obedient.” You laughed, kissing him. He pulled away from the kiss.

“Are you trying to get a rise out of me y/n?” He said, cocking his head slightly. A smug smile spread across his face, his eyes darkened. You felt like the prey instead of the predator under his gaze.

“I would never dream of it.” You smirked, feeling him get hard against your stomach. “Already?” You chuckled, rolling your eyes. 

“I can’t help that I have the most gorgeous girl in front of me, naked.” He mused, raising his eyebrows. You pushed him back, his back hitting the mattress with a soft thud. He smirked, propping himself up on his elbows. You crawled on top of him, setting yourself over his waist. He leaned his head forward, his lips covering your right breast. You lowered yourself onto him, moaning as he pushed through your opening. He let out a pained cry against your breast. 

“Are you alright?” You asked, stalling your movement.

“Mmm,” he hummed, his eyes shut tight, his hands gripping your hips, stilling any movements you would make. “Just sensitive, tesoro.” He chuckled looking up at you through his heavy eyelashes. You grinned, you wanted nothing more than to have Five under you a blubbering mess. And you were gonna have it. 

You rolled your hips against him, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips. He let out a choked gasp, his head falling back against the bed.

“You like that baby?” You asked, dragging your hips up and down against him. 

“Fuck yes.” He whined, arching his back off the bed, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head into your chest. You rocked back and forth, Five’s fingernails dragging down your back. You moaned, pushing him back against the bed. You leaned back, propping yourself up on his thighs as you jutted your hips forward again and again. That familiar coil tightening in your stomach. “F-fuck.” He cried, his hips jolting against your pelvis, his pubic hair rubbing at your clit. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he bit his lip, his hands gripping the sheets beneath you. 

“You feel so good, you make me feel so good Five.” You huffed, struggling to keep up your pace. He whimpered a tear falling down his cheek. Suddenly his body jolted, his hands gripping your waist holding you down onto his hips as he came with a cry. You grinned against him, reaching your own orgasm. You moaned, high pitched and breathy as his cock twitched inside you. His cum painting your walls as you clenched down on him

“Christ woman.” He sighed, his arm covering his eyes. You pulled away his arm, wiping away a stray tear.

“Glad to be of service.” You asked sweetly, kissing his cheek before pecking his lips. You slowly got off of his lap, his softened cock slipping out of you. You laid down beside him, lightly trailing your fingers over his chest. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer. Your head laying on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your ear. 

“I love you.” He says, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Are you thinking of someone else?” You tease, staring up at him through your lashes. 

“No.” He says, rolling his eyes feigning annoyance. He sits up, you prop yourself up on your arm. “I’m serious,” he cups your face, “I love you so goddamn much.” He says kissing you. You were sure you had died and gone to heaven. His hand against your face, with his soft slightly bruised lips against yours. You sighed into the kiss, feeling like a love sick teenager.

“I love you.” You giggled wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you, I love you.” You kissed the corner of his lips, his cheek, his forehead. He chuckled softly, as you met his eyes. “I love you Five Hargreeves.” You whispered, resting your forehead against his.

“And I you.” He smiled. Five would happily add anything pertaining to you into his routine any day. 

[chosokamosbf]

(N)SFW JASON TODD / RED HOOD HCs.

☆ 18+ only/no minors.

WARNINGs: 18+, gn (gender non-implied)! reader, daddy/mommy kink, mentions of abuse (jason nor reader are doing it), minor mention of blood, sub/dom, pain play, fear play, "prey/predator," brat taming, reader is referred to as "prince(ss)" and "sweetheart" once.

WORD COUNT: 900-ish+

Based on canon, I firmly believe he's on the ace spectrum, specifically demisexual. And even then, he rarely experiences sexual attraction at all for his partners. This isn't because he doesn't love them (enough) or any other assumptions similar to that; it just doesn't happen much.

Furthermore, as much as he'll indulge you here and there if you do, (sexual) intimate moments with Jason would be far and few between, making them all the more important to him.

He's a switch, leaning on dom and top. Mostly because he likes the control and is more comfortable that way. Getting him to be submissive instead is a gradual endeavor. He doesn't hate it; it just takes a lot of patience and trust.

First and foremost on actual kinks, I think Jason has a thing for "daddy," both on the receiving and giving ends. He likes the title, and he's definitely the type to whisper something like, "C'mere, sweetheart. Give daddy a kiss." in even private, innocuous moments just to mess with you.

(Note: I don't think he'd have as much of a mommy kink because—y'know.)

Rough sex is a top favorite of his. This goes hand in hand with play wrestling as a form of foreplay, breathing heavily down on his partner just to continue that energy into bed with sweat-slick bodies. It's less about "winning," and more about being allowed to confide in someone in a way and the fun that can come with it. He wouldn't be against being the sub in this situation either, even if his partner is weaker than him, because he knows how important control can be in bed, so he'll let them win. Sometimes. He trusts you, and he wants you both to feel good.

Degradation/praise wise, he'll give either out depending on the moment. He's going to tease and utter dirty shit like, "C'mooon, prince(ss). You're sounding like a real whore for someone who didn't want it a couple minutes ago—" if you tried to struggle against. It depends more on the moment than position because he could be pounding into you and huffing out praise right next to your ear with what little air he's catching, to riding you, telling you to keep up while his head is already thrown back.

He enjoys pegging a lot, but as always, it's going to take some convincing to get him to comply.

Brat taming is another go-to of his, along with sub/dom. On the other end, it seems to be a near equal opposite—he's not into it, and it can get uncomfortable real fast. There's a few times he'll indulge himself, and they're all after more intense days to sort of solidify the trust he has in you. You're not going to hurt him; he's still in control in a way.

He doesn't seem like he'd like being on the receiving end of any sort of pain play. He already deals with chronic pain on a day-to-day basis. To have it overwhelm one of the few aspects of intimacy that he loves and simultaneously take his head off things for once just doesn't seem like it'd be enjoyable for him. No, on the giving end—

(Note: I'm not into pain play myself, nor do I even know what even makes it enjoyable for people, so I'll be segmenting this with fear play and "prey/predator.")

It wouldn't be something he'd ever bring up, far from it, but if it's what you like, he'll gladly take a knife in a steady hand to softly trace it down from your stomach to your underwear. In a smile almost cruel, he'd drag it across just enough so a few drops could be licked back up if you asked nicely enough again.

Jason knows you're just asking for it if you're weaker than him and bring up the idea of a different kind of foreplay. He'd pick a place, somewhere with a lot of spots you could try to hide away and run to (an abandoned office of sorts is the best go; he's not going to risk infections).  Just for him to stalk, pin you down with ease. If the spot he found his little prey in isn't satisfactory (or clean) enough, he'd have no qualms settling you over his shoulder like a sack and manhandling you where he wants it.

He definitely isn't going to go too far, though. As well-trained as he is, he's going to be especially attentive after any scenes involving that. Sadism isn't a big one for him. He'll enjoy it in the moment but then feel real guilty afterwards, so, just as a reminder, aftercare goes both ways.

I don't know why some people think he's into "dark" (ex. pedo stuff such as ageplay and actual rape.) kinks when he's canonically and literally has hunted down murdered several (sexual) abusers before. If you try to break boundaries, he's going to be reconsidering the relationship, and quite possibly if he even knew you as a person.

On a lighter note, consent is a big thing for him, and he's also big on aftercare. A go-to would be a bath for the both of you (stuffing the sheets in the washer right before and bandaging any "scratches" if need be.), then cuddling. Depending on whether he has the energy, he'll pop something in the microwave real quick. (Takeout is usually a last resort because the last thing he wants while enjoying the afterglow with a partner is social interaction with a stranger.)

If you wear make-up and it gets ruined by the end, like in the latter part of the previous section, if he can, he's going to help you wipe off the mess and maybe help you reapply it as a form of care.

[hellsquills]

Some timeline details for the Drafted AU

Drafted AU: a Gravity Falls AU in which Stan didn't break the perpetual motion machine and, instead of kicking him out, Filbrick sent him to Vietnam. Stan runs away. You can read more in this post.

The canon timeline would look something like this:

1969: Stan doesn't break the perpetual motion machine.

He's very sad and frustrated about his brother leaving. Instead of breaking into the school, they have a heated argument in the swings, in which Stan and Ford scream at each other until their true worries come to light: Stan is scared of his brother not having a good enough reason to come back home, and Ford is scared of not being up to their parents' (Filbrick) standards and forever being “the freak”. They talk it out as best as two 17-year-olds can, and they end up hugging and crying. They promise to always stick together, no matter what. They go home with a bond stronger than ever.

Ford leaves for uni in September.

1972: Stan is drafted.

It's been three years since Stanford left. Every once in a while, at least once a week, he calls home to catch up. He's drowning in work and classes, but he's as happy as he's ever been.

Stan is... managing. He picks up some work here and there, helping his dad in the shop, fixing some cars in the local garage and whatnot. Filbrick is not impressed though, and it gets worse when Ford sends part of his grant money. His son is so successful that he makes money just off reading books? And what's his extra kid doing? Not bringing home any money, that's for sure. More like living off his parents, for free, in their house, and eating their food. And so, he does the obvious thing; making Stan's life miserable until he decides to leave the house himself. Caryn doesn't see things the same way as he does, and she's spoiling this leech of a son they have.

One day, around November 1971, the third Vietnam draft lottery is held. Stan had managed to avoid being called for the last two (a friend of one of his dad's friends had some connections), but this time Filbrick makes sure he is called to take the test.

Stan calls his brother in a panic, and they both decide that the best and only course of action is that Stan pretends to be unable to do the physical tests. I'll expand on this in the future, I think, but basically the recruiters call his bluff and threaten to send him to prison if he doesn't cooperate. Stan gives up and passes the test with flying colors.

Stan goes back home knowing fully well he's fucked. He waits for the response. In January 1972, he receives the confirmation. The next day, in the middle of the night, he's out of the house.

1971: Introducing: Fiddleford.

Ford meets Fiddleford in a congress he attends in 1971, in which he gives a presentation on his most recent interest: the supernatural world and the multiverse. When the time for questions begins, all of them are about his perpetual motion machine. He's happy he's recognized by it, but he feels like no one listened to him and his new project. That is, until a lanky blond guy around his age comes up to the microphone and asks a question about a theory based on his. Ford is immediately taken aback by it, and asks the guy when did he come up with it. The guy simply answers that he just put two and two together while he was explaining, and it just occurred to him. Ford, who looks like he just took a peek into deep space, says into the mic: "Meet me in the room H at break".

The pure nerd energy these two emitted in the following two hours could fuel the San Diego Comic Con until California is underwater. They missed the rest of the congress and just kept talking and talking, one-upping each other's theories and finishing each other's equations. The connection is immediate, and they agree to stay in contact while they do their respective degrees.

A couple of years later, thanks to Ford's insistence, Fiddleford applies for a full scholarship at West Coast Tech. The university grants it, and his whole family is incredibly proud. Fiddleford finishes his Bachelor at Backupsmore University and moves in with Ford. They start living together on campus in 1974.

1972–1979: Stan on the run, Ford in uni.

This is basically the canon timeline redux. Stan runs away from the military service and the police altogether. He's still homeless and Ford-levels of paranoid. He doesn't contact his family in fear they'll have to pay the price for his mistakes. He doesn't call either. He doesn't leave the country, although he does come very close in '79. There are LOADS of backstory in this period, but the main point is that he's still a criminal, but much more discreet: no tricking people with faulty products, he doesn't want the authorities to know his location by putting up ads, but he does a bunch of illegal deals, betting, and drugs.

Ford is in uni and, as predicted, he's still working his ass off. He attends every single congress he can, takes as many classes as he can legally take and is overall the same maniac nerd he is in canon. Part of it is still wanting to be the absolute best student at all times, but also because he's genuinely enjoying it. The only difference here is that he also makes time to look for his lost twin, which keeps him somewhat grounded. He also has Fiddleford with him, and he helps a lot.

Ford still calls home around once a week, but he resents his dad because he knows Filbrick had something to do with Satan's draft. As time goes by, he's less and less scared of him and more upset, until he tells him to go to hell. He feels the freest he's ever been. He thinks about Stan and how proud he would've been of him for being the one who stood up to their father for once.

1979: Stan arrives in Tennessee

He arrives at the beginning of summer, around mid-June. He just escaped from a particularly tough situation, so he's trying to lay as low as possible; therefore, he hides in Tennessee, as this state shares a border with many others and it'd be easier to elude whoever is looking for him. That's also why he goes straight for the small towns, instead of the cities.

He's exhausted and broker than he's been in a while. He goes to a small town and orders something small, enough to fuel him for a few more hours. The waitress takes pity on him and serves him a bigger plate on the house. Stan could cry.

Fiddleford just finished his finals, and just as he does every summer, he comes back home to help his family on the farm. That's why he's home when he meets Stan, and not in uni.

Ford spends his summer at West Coast Tech, living on campus and doing extracurricular internships.

1979-82: Life at the McGucket's and the move to Gravity Falls

Stan lives with the McGuckets for two years, although he only lives with Fiddleford during holidays and summers (since he doesn't get married in this AU, he spends some more time studying in uni and working on his own projects). He bonds A LOT with them, and they love having him around.

In 1981, Ford finally receives a big grant to study the supernatural, and he decides to build a house in a town in Oregon called Gravity Falls. He immediately asks Stan and Fiddleford to live with him and to help him in his investigations, if they want to.

Seeing as it is a secluded area (and because he misses his brother like crazy), Stan accepts. So does Fiddleford.

???? - Fiddlestan

When is Fiddlestan established in this AU? Who falls first (and who falls harder)? When does Ford find out? Does he help any of them out? Does Fidds' family know? Your call, honestly.

[if you share your ideas i'll kiss your forehead]

I'm torn between them falling in love in the holidays and then pining through the phone while they're away, being an established couple before they move to Gravity Falls or getting together while they're there. Either way it's teeth-rotting fluff, I can tell you that much.

[r0se1111]

Stan Pines x Reader

This man won't leave my head get OUT!! Ford is a little hm... silly in this I love the guy but he was kinda crazy at this point rip. Loosely based on this. Might continue but I'll prob diverge from the og post a bit for completely selfish hurt/comfort purposes >:)

1982

You hadn't planned on getting your best friend sucked into a portal that leads to who knows where. You'd begged him to stop, trying desperately to convince him that together you'd figure something else out. But once Fiddleford left in a fit of hysteria, there was no one else to make sure Ford didn't end up killing himself over this project.

Maybe he'd be better off that way. Not floating past incomprehensible dimensions, armed with only a pair of out-of-date glasses and a worn coat. The bitter thought crosses your mind for a moment before the crushing guilt of even considering that punches you in the gut.

But no, you had stayed by his side, his ever-faithful research assistant. Every time you saw the dark circles under his eyes, the shake in his hands, and the madness written across his pale face, your heart just broke.

So when he'd told you he had reached out to his brother for help, and when his brother actually showed up, you could have cried tears of raw relief. Stan, as he introduced himself, was a little rough around the edges, broader and a bit taller than Ford, but had the same sort of tired wild hope in his eyes as Ford did when he was convinced the portal "just has to work this time!" And when Ford snapped at you in his exhaustion, Stan was quick to fly his hand out in front of you as if he could physically shield you from your friend's words. You decided then and there that you trusted him.

Things got worse as Ford explained his plan to his brother, all but pushing him out the door in his urgency to hide those damn journals. The two quickly fell into a fist-fight, you frantically hitting at shoulders and tugging at rouge elbows as you attempted to break them apart. Then you watched, horrified, as Ford floated through the air and into the blue glowing veil of the portal, disappearing from this dimension.

You heard the power shut off, and vaguely heard Stan screaming something you couldn't make out over the ringing of your ears and beating of your heart. Your wide eyes started blankly through the circle of the portal, as if you would see Ford simply standing on the other side.

You didn't.

Hands roughly grabbed your shoulders and a figure knelt down to make eye contact with you. Before your eyes focused and you could only process the basic shapes of that face, you had a wild thought that it was Ford, that the events of the past few minutes were just a bad, stress-fueled dream. But when you returned that hard stare, you saw longer hair and a slight raised scar across a lip moving in speech.

"You can get it to work, right? You made this with him?" Stan kneaded the skin of your shoulder, whether to soothe himself or you, you couldn't tell. His voice sounded raw and tired in fear and overuse, and it cracked a little with his desperate questioning. You gulp and stand, methodically walking to the control panel and repeating steps you had practiced hundreds of times before. Except, just like 99 out of 100 times before, there was no flicker of blue, no jolt of energy that brought Ford back. You tried again. No response. Again. Nothing.

You stood there working the knobs and buttons, doing the math in your head for what seemed like hours, until your hands were numb, and you were aware of tears wetting your cheeks. That hand was back, doing that funny little kneading motion which actually did a damn good job of grounding you.

"Hey... Y/N, right?"

You jerk your head around to look at Stan and see that he had those same tell-tale wet marks running down his cheeks. He had been watching you for all that time. His lips looked red and bitten at, and he'd lost that nice warm splash of color in his face. It suddenly hits you that while you'd lost your best friend, this guy had lost his brother. A wave a nausea makes you keel over.

"Oh-oh god," You choke out, pulling away from his comforting touch. You don't deserve it, not now. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Jesus, he's your brother Stan and I- I took him away, I let him do this-"

Stan is looking at you with a complicated expression, almost like he's in physical pain. He pulls his hand away from where he'd reached out again for you and formed a tight fist against his thigh. "You didn't-" A quick, sharp sigh. "Look." He brings his hands up to fiddle with his fingers in front of his stomach. "This whole situation is fucked, and if anyone is to blame for it it's not you. I want," He cuts off into another hitched breath and you notice his hands are shaking too. "I need to fix this." Stan fixes you with a suddenly determined gaze. "But I don't know shit about..." He gestures vaguely to the mess of buttons and pasted notes before you.

"You want my help." You don't ask, because there's no question about it. Of course you're helping. Even if this Stan guy had kicked you out and told you to get lost, you'd figure something out to get Ford back. Even if Stan turns out to be completely hopeless and obnoxious, you are staying in this sleepy little town and this run-down shack until your friend is home.

Stan nods, and the way he mutters a hoarse "please" makes you think he's not used to how that word feels, tastes. He's tangling his fingers together again, looking like a guilty kid awaiting his punishment. Your heart clenches. This guy is gonna kill me. You decide then and there that you were going to take good care of him.

This time it's you who reaches forward to press the weight of your hand into his shoulder. "I promise you, Stan, I'm not going anywhere until Ford is back."

Stan looks up at you and you realize those dark eyes you can never say no to run in the family. You spend a moment categorizing Stan's features, how his mouth twitches a little further left when he frowns, and how his strong nose looks a little snow-burned, red and raw. You stare at him a bit longer, feeling penitent and dizzy with the weight of the night's events.

Turning back to the control panel, you pick up a notebook haphazardly leaned against the wall the panel was tucked into. You flip it open to a miraculously blank page and rummage through your pocket for your spare pen. You let Stan lean into your space then begin writing. "So, quantum mechanics..."

[allfortzu]

keep it going all night (don't stop)

-- dahyun / tzuyu, 3.55k. smut // overstimulation, exhibitionism. dahyun's just a liiittle mean and sana makes a brief appearance // MEN DNI

where do they get all this energy, anyway?

dahyun doesn't know where tzuyu gets all this energy. 

“i- i can't, tzu,” she pants, pushing at tzuyu's wrist. 

her eyes are already falling close, and she's all but knocked out in between laboured breaths and weak trembles.

tzuyu, on the other hand, still has a palm on her thigh and the same lidded gaze she had when she dipped her fingers under dahyun's shorts an hour ago.

though, she obeys anyway and pulls back her hand.

“are you okay?” she asks, voice exceptionally tender despite her messily wet fingers. 

“mhm,” dahyun mumbles, head lolling to the side. “you were… really good.” 

there's a pleasant buzz in her tummy that could coax her to sleep any moment, but she also desperately wants to repay the pleasure.

“are you?” dahyun continues, urging tzuyu to come closer. 

“i am if you are,” tzuyu grins. 

she lays a reassuring kiss on the tip of dahyun's nose, calming dahyun's heartbeat, but dahyun isn't quite convinced. 

“that means you're not.” 

tzuyu only keeps smiling. she brushes stray wisps of hair off dahyun's forehead, even though dahyun's sure it's too messy at this point to be saved. “sleep, unnie. i’ll clean up.” 

dahyun throws an arm over tzuyu's neck to keep her in place. 

they're not even undressed, so she can't imagine tzuyu's had enough already. 

“i'm not sleepy. tell me what you're thinking about, please?”

she plays with the baby hair on the back of tzuyu's neck idly, intent on looking right into tzuyu's eyes. 

tzuyu has never been the type to get off from just being on the giving end – dahyun knows she's thinking about something; knows she wants more.

“unnie, don't look at me like that.” 

“like i want to know what filthy thoughts you're having right now?” 

tzuyu bites her bottom lip, eyes darting. “... i don't know if you'll like it.” 

dahyun slips her palm down the tzuyu's cheek, bringing tzuyu's focus back on her. “i'll love it as long as it makes you feel good, you know that.” 

their eyes meet for only a moment before tzuyu panics again. “you don't have to if you don't want to.” 

dahyun lets out an endeared chuckle. “i don't think i'll ever not want to try, but i promise.” 

tzuyu sucks in a breath and lays her forehead on dahyun's shoulder. 

“okay,” she says, then swallows. 

“can you be a little, um… mean...? to me?” 

dahyun's frowns slightly at the unfamiliar suggestion. 

she knew tzuyu loved being praised, but this sounded like the complete opposite.

“like, calling you a… slut?” dahyun tries. 

“no!” tzuyu jolts up, though still awfully flustered. “not… not the names, but something like that. just… i don't know. like… be mean, but still say i'm good..”

dahyun's mind blanks for a second, then suddenly there's warmth blossoming from the base of her neck up to her cheeks, and her imagination runs a little. 

“oh.”

she wonders how long tzuyu has been thinking about this – and how tzuyu has only now just told her about it. a part of dahyun flushes at the thought of tzuyu becoming even more submissive under her, but another part of her melts at tzuyu's vulnerability. 

before she can conjure up a coherent response, one that could encapsulate all her feelings, tzuyu pulls away to stand up. 

she presses her palms over her face to cover its reddening hue, embarrassed. “it's okay, forget it.” 

dahyun reacts instantly. “no, let's try.”  

she scrambles to stand up, reaching out to touch tzuyu's elbow reassuringly. she gently tugs tzuyu hands down, prompting her to look at her, careful. 

“really?” tzuyu asks meekly. her palms fall from her cheeks, but dahyun can still feel the tension in her shoulders. 

“really,” dahyun catches her wrist and intertwines their fingers, rubbing her thumb soothingly. 

she steps closer, then whispers carefully into tzuyu's ear; lets her breath hit tzuyu's jaw. “just tell me when to stop.” 

tzuyu's heart flips and she feels like she should say something – but all the words stuck in her throat come out as a squeak when dahyun kisses the skin right below her earlobe, slow and soft.

“hyun– ”

“sit down, baby,” dahyun husks, in her velvety low timbre that always makes tzuyu melt.

tzuyu sits and stares up wordlessly as dahyun moves to straddle her lap. her hands automatically find purchase on dahyun's waist before dahyun pushes them away.

“no touching.”

tzuyu pouts. “unnie…”

dahyun pinches her cheeks and raises her brows cheekily. “do you want me to tie you up too?” 

she means it as a joke, but then tzuyu starts pursing her lips and clutching at the sheets, and dahyun knows how to read her all too well. 

she scratches tzuyu's chin lightly, smirking. “i'll use the silk, hm?” 

they don't use restraints much, or toys for that matter, but dahyun guesses this is special enough of an occasion. 

as she rifles through their closet for that largely untouched box, tzuyu remains frozen in place.

“i said no touching, not no moving,” dahyun chuckles, returning to her lap once again. 

there's a nagging voice in the back of her head telling her to be mean, but she also really can't help pampering whenever tzuyu freezes up like that, too shy to make a move. it reminds her of their first time together – though, in a way, this was their first time, too, doing something a little different.

dahyun traces her fingers from tzuyu's shoulder blades down her wrists, then brings tzuyu's palms together in between them. 

her gaze darts back up to tzuyu's eyes, a silent request for permission that is promptly given under dilated pupils and anticipating nods.

tzuyu's skin looks incredibly pretty against white silk, dahyun realises. maybe they should touch that box more. 

“you are a sight to behold, tzu,” she whispers, almost struck breathless. 

dahyun pushes tzuyu back, dragging her bounded hands over her head as she falls.

she tries taking it all in – tzuyu's doe eyes, tzuyu's already heaving chest, tzuyu under her. she doesn't think she could ever tire of this sight. 

“i'll stop everything the moment you say stop, okay? or just put your arms down and tap my shoulder twice.”

“i can take it,” tzuyu insists. 

dahyun smiles. she barely even has to set the mood – tzuyu's brought herself all the way in. 

“already so eager to please – aren't you such a good girl?”  

she knows it's contrary to what tzuyu had requested, but she also knows praise gets tzuyu going just as well. 

by the looks of tzuyu biting her bottom lip and as red as dahyun has ever seen her before, she's absolutely right about it. 

dahyun presses her wrists into the mattress forcefully. “keep your hands up here for me, dear.” 

she leans over to give tzuyu a kiss, but when tzuyu turns her face to try and capture her lips, she stops just short of them.

“not yet,” she juts. 

tzuyu gapes a little, surprised. 

dahyun lays a peck on her cheek. “that'd be too nice, wouldn't it?” 

a tinge of helplessness flashes across tzuyu's face, but dahyun ignores it in favour of peppering kisses down her jaw, nipping lightly. her hands move to tzuyu's waist, nails scratching against skin as she hikes tzuyu's shirt up. 

it's enough to make tzuyu squirm as she tries to keep her arms above her head, brows furrowed tight.

dahyun palms her over her bra and she lets out a whimper. her back arches immediately, curving into dahyun. 

“you like this?” 

dahyun pushes the fabric up higher and pinches a hardened nipple, before running over it with her thumb. tzuyu yelps in response, shoulders shrinking as her body twists. her hips rise instinctively, but dahyun keeps her down. 

tzuyu has never been vocal in bed, not past those quiet sounds that leave the back of her throat, and dahyun has never minded it – though, today seemed like the perfect day to try something new. 

“you're breathing so hard… and we haven't even done anything,” dahyun muses.

she drags her other finger between tzuyu's chest, then over the dips of tzuyu's ribs as it tenses under her touch. tzuyu's shirt is bunched up at her collarbone, so dahyun can only imagine it's even more suffocating for her than usual. 

“you want me to touch you that bad?” 

she's not one to tease this much, but she lets it roll off her tongue anyway, and watches tzuyu's reaction. 

tzuyu's pulse races beneath her fingers, skin on fire. 

dahyun leans forward, tilting tzuyu's chin towards her, coy and calculating. 

“you want unnie to use you?” 

tzuyu stiffens under her. 

for a moment, dahyun's afraid she might’ve said the wrong thing. she's ready to drop it all and apologise –

but then tzuyu nods, eyes pleading, stomach undeniably clenching under her.

dahyun raises a brow. 

“you're so filthy, tzu.” 

tzuyu doesn't deny it; only ruts her hips in an effort to draw dahyun's attention there. 

“be patient.” 

she whimpers when dahyun presses a thumb on the edge of her lips, and opens her mouth instinctively. 

dahyun drags the pad of her thumb across tzuyu's bottom lip before she knocks her nail against tzuyu's teeth. 

“suck.”

tzuyu takes her finger into her mouth obediently. her gaze strays, embarrassed, but a moan still escapes and her eyes still flutter when dahyun pushes her thumb deeper, opening her mouth wider. 

dahyun would ask tzuyu to keep her focus on her, but she can't help being a little soft when tzuyu sounds this good. 

“you make all these pretty sounds, all for me,” dahyun drawls. 

she pulls her finger out, along with the drool dripping down her palm and tzuyu's cheek.

“why don't you tell me what you want with words?” 

“unnie…” tzuyu huffs, slightly out of breath. 

dahyun sits back intentionally. “i don't mind waiting.” 

tzuyu, however, with her jaw hung open, eyes hazy – she might just be a little impatient now. 

“touch me,” she mewls, pitch high with equal parts of shyness and desperation. 

“what's the magic word?” dahyun hums. she rests a hand on tzuyu's chest, rubbing her drool-coated thumb over the sensitive nub. “i want you to beg, baby.”

tzuyu almost sobs. she arches into dahyun and lets out a choked moan as dahyun's mouth finds her other nipple, licking and lapping languidly. a steady wave builds in her tummy, and it's terribly hard to ignore when dahyun is sitting right on her. 

“please– please touch me down there, hyunnie,” tzuyu cries. “i'll be good, i'll keep my hands up, you can use me, please, unnie, just don't wanna cum like this–”

there're tears welling up in her eyes now so she squeezes her thighs together, trying to find some friction but also trying to stop herself from coming so unsatisfyingly. 

thankfully, or maybe not so thankfully at all – tzuyu really isn't in the headspace to decide – dahyun stops right when she's on the verge of falling apart.

“that's my girl,” dahyun coos. tzuyu sounds wonderful. 

she licks her lips, then her fingers; then she's off, pulling tzuyu's sweats down.

“legs open, pretty.’

tzuyu listens without hesitation. dahyun settles in between her thighs. 

she leaves tzuyu's underwear on, watching the damp spot slowly forming on the fabric. tzuyu's incredibly soaked through, her lust and desire painfully prominent even if she refuses to voice it without prompting. 

dahyun presses the pad of her middle and index finger on the spot, teasing. “what a mess…” 

tzuyu flinches instinctively. her entire body jolts upwards with a whimper when dahyun rubs up to her clit over the cloth, smearing her arousal. her arms fall below her head unconsciously, naturally seeking to pull dahyun closer despite being bound. 

dahyun clicks her tongue and retracts her touch. “what happened to keeping your hands up?” 

tzuyu whines at the loss. “unnie, please…” 

“you're so desperate to be used you can't even go one second without whining?” 

tzuyu swears she could cum from dahyun's voice alone at this point. 

she has half a mind left to raise her arms again, mumbling brokenly in between. “s-sorry, but please.” 

dahyun's expression softens – she's never been good with apologies – but she sets the thought aside, keeping tzuyu's initial request in mind. 

normally, she wouldn't wait a second to pleasure tzuyu, but a little edging now and then never hurt anyone, did it?

she moves her fingers back to tzuyu's centre, sneaking below the fabric. dahyun sucks in a breath at the warmth engulfing her hand, but focuses on rubbing small circles over tzuyu's clit. tzuyu practically melts, throbbing with every touch and coating dahyun's fingers with wetness. 

her digits slide almost effortlessly against tzuyu's heat, coaxing out quiet moans. 

when the sounds heighten, growing into whimpers, dahyun knows it's time to slow down. 

“you're gonna cum without asking?” 

the cries leave tzuyu's mouth so easily after that. 

“ah– unnie, please please please, let me...” 

if her hands weren't tied together, she would be tugging on dahyun's wrist herself, but all she can do now is beg. 

“please, i'm close…”

dahyun smiles, satisfied. she dips into tzuyu’s heat again, and this time, she doesn't stop rubbing until tzuyu cums. 

she speeds up when tzuyu starts moaning and furrowing her brows, knees folding into dahyun and stomach clenching. 

tzuyu pants heavily, thighs shaking and trembling as dahyun continues dragging out her high, spreading her slick all over. her bounded wrists are red and aching by now, and she honestly can't wait to be untied so she can finally put her hands on dahyun. 

once she’s caught her breath, she peeks under her hooded eyes, expecting dahyun to come up and release her. 

though, dahyun seems to be thinking about other things.  

she clicks her tongue, showing tzuyu her hand. “look at how filthy you are.” 

her fingers are webbed up with tzuyu’s clear arousal, sticky and warm, and it makes tzuyu’s cheeks flush. dahyun peels her ruined panties off, slathering her cum over her skin as she goes. 

without warning, she dives in again, licking up tzuyu's folds and collecting the arousal greedily. tzuyu squeaks, still feeling the oversensitivity from her previous orgasm.

“unnie–! wait–”

dahyun ignores her pleas and spreads open her clamped thighs cruelly. usually, she would check in first, knowing tzuyu didn't have much stamina when it came to this – but she simply couldn't wait. maybe all that being mean was getting to her head, because now all she wanted to do was listen to tzuyu cry her name all night. 

she presses the tip of her tongue against tzuyu's clit before pushing it flat, then sucks gently. tzuyu's back grows taut, arching off the bed sharply. she mumbles out a cacophony of unnies and pleases, every other word long forgotten the moment dahyun laid her mouth on her.

when dahyun's tongue finds her clit again, lapping slowly, she cums almost immediately. 

“hyunnie,” tzuyu puffs out weakly, chest heaving. it's so soft that she's not sure dahyun can even hear. 

she hides her face under her bicep, unable to keep her arms up straight anymore. tears stain her skin, all messy and wet and limp. 

dahyun comes up to capture her lips in a comforting kiss, melting into one another despite the lewd undertones of saliva mixing with slick. 

tzuyu thinks its the end of it when dahyun takes hold of her wrists, but instead of untying her, dahyun pushes them into the sheets once more. 

“wh– ”

she's cut off by a vibration. 

their eyes dart to the sound from dahyun's phone, but neither move. 

dahyun keeps her hands on tzuyu's and retrieves her phone with the other. 

“it's sana unnie,” she announces. 

tzuyu lets out a sigh, happy to have found an excuse to catch her breath. 

for some reason, dahyun doesn't get off her. 

rather, she leans down to kiss tzuyu's tears away, and her grip tightens. 

“give me one more,” she whispers. 

“i-i can't… and s-sana unnie…”

dahyun picks up the call and tosses the phone aside. it's right up tzuyu's alley. 

“hello? dahyunnie!” sana's voice rings. 

dahyun keeps her voice steady. “hey, sana unnie. did you need something?” 

as she speaks, her fingers trail down tzuyu's tummy, pressing her palm over the base of it. 

tzuyu mewls, centre throbbing all over again. she bites down on her bottom lip harshly, brows twisting in a meagre attempt to keep quiet. 

“i was just wondering if you and tzuyu wanted to come over tonight to watch the seollal fireworks together. is tzuyu there?” sana chirps. 

dahyun smirks, sinful. 

“is tzuyu here?” she echoes. her fingers slip between tzuyu's folds, prodding in. 

tzuyu whimpers softly, rutting her hips.

she knows she could mouth the words, shake her head once, and dahyun would get off without hesitation; knows that the knot bounding her is loose enough to be slipped off herself – but she also knows she's terribly turned on now, even if she's sensitive all over, and that there's a part of her desperately begging for dahyun to keep going with sana listening. 

“y-yes, i'm… here,” she manages, albeit a little high pitched and broken. 

there's a pause on the other line, then sana speaks again. “are you two… are you sick, tzuyu?” 

as tzuyu thinks of a response, dahyun thrusts two fingers into her slowly, then out again. tzuyu shivers and turns her head into the mattress in a panic, words lost in low moans. 

“hello?” sana asks again. 

dahyun is merciful enough to help.

“she's okay, just… distracted.” 

“ah,” sana muses, sounding a little coy herself. knowing her, she's probably already guessed. “enjoy yourself, tzuyu. call me back?” 

it doesn't take long to bring tzuyu over the edge again, not after hearing sana say that – another thrust and a curl of dahyun's fingers, a practised thumb to her clit – tzuyu cums a third time with a silent scream, cracked whimpers escaping her throat. 

“stop, stop,” she sobs quietly, tears blurring her vision. 

dahyun lets go of her hands instantly and carefully pulls her drenched fingers out. 

without even bidding goodbye, she hangs up the call and returns to tzuyu's side, untying the silk. though, tzuyu's too exhausted to do anything but lay limp in the same position. 

“was that too much?” dahyun asks, worried. 

she rubs up and down tzuyu's stomach soothingly, trying to ease her oversensitivity. 

tzuyu lets her eyes fall close, enjoying the relief dahyun was providing. 

“three times… is enough,” she mumbles. 

dahyun wipes her tears away with the back of her hand. “did i push too far? are you okay?” 

tzuyu shakes her head. her chest rises and falls comfortably, and her mind feels like it's on a warm, velvety cloud. 

“i liked it,” she assures. she brings her hand to dahyun's cheek, guiding dahyun in for a proper kiss. 

dahyun continues planting kisses all over her face, even as tzuyu loses the focus to maintain the kiss. she runs a thumb over her hairline, brushing the hair out of tzuyu's sweaty forehead. 

“does that mean i did well?” 

“really well,” tzuyu smiles dreamily. 

she ducks her head, only then noticing the mess she made on dahyun’s fingers and their sheets. 

“i probably need a shower…” 

“i’ll help.”

“ah, no,” tzuyu protests. 

they've never been able to keep their hands off each other in the shower, and she doesn't think she can handle a fourth time, especially not standing up. she’ll have to make do with this drowsiness if she doesn't want to wake up with sore muscles tomorrow. 

“i’ll shower; you change the sheets.” 

dahyun traces teasing circles over tzuyu's waist. “i'll be good.” 

“you won't.” 

“but you like it when i'm a little mean, no?

//

tzuyu comes out of the shower sweatier than when she got in. 

she runs through her skincare as dahyun changes the sheets, and once that's done, she flops down carelessly, legs sore. she doesn't know where dahyun gets all this energy. 

dahyun chuckles, patting tzuyu's thighs. “up, i'll dry your hair.” 

tzuyu sits up begrudgingly. dahyun comes behind her with a blow dryer and her towel. 

the gentle whirring of air on top of dahyun's fingers through her hair lolls her right back to sleep. 

she's awoken by another call to dahyun's phone, but doesn't stay alert long enough to listen in. 

she's told it's sana when dahyun leans over to whisper into her ear – “do you still wanna go over to sana unnie's?” 

tzuyu stirs a little at the name. “... do you think sana unnie could tell? just now?” 

dahyun pats tzuyu's hair down comfortingly. “probably. she just joked about joining us.” 

tzuyu groans and lies into dahyun's front, slightly distraught. “i'm too embarrassed to go.” 

dahyun laughs, but doesn't try to convince her otherwise. she puts the phone back to her ear. 

“i think we'll sit out of this one, unnie. we'll visit tomorrow, i promise – sorry again!” 

dahyun is quick to end the call; or maybe sana still thinks they're doing things – tzuyu isn't keen to find out. 

“you liked it, though. didn't you?” dahyun teases, after she's hung up. “maybe we'll take sana unnie up on that offer, hm?” 

she kisses the spot under tzuyu's earlobe, and tzuyu goes red all over again. 

she decides she doesn't quite have the energy to entertain that thought – 

not yet, anyway.

oh this was a roller coaster to write from start to finish -- i wrote it over so many different sessions i kept getting lost in whatever minimal plot i set for it <3 i think everyone can probably guess my fav datzu smut tropes by now.. i am just a girl 😞 top!tzu has not been forgotten, i promise! i hope you enjoyed this chaepookie, thank you so much for waiting 🫂

anyway, thank you for reading, and thank you for interacting!! i appreciate it so much <3

[pacificwaternymph]

Aaaaand everyone give it up for WASTED POTENTIAL

Season finale spoilers under the cut

Okay. I'll be honest. The finale was... not what I was hoping for.

I tried so hard to remain optimistic. I truly believed they could pull it all together and everything was going to have a satisfying conclusion. But I guess that's my fault. I set my expectations too high.

Is this about Tech? Primarily, yes. Yes it was. I am so disappointed. And you can make fun of me all you want but I genuinely believed, with all my heart, that CX-2 was Tech.

BECAUSE WHY THE FUCK ELSE WAS THERE SO MUCH EMPHASIS ON HIM

There was so much to suggest that CX-2 was somebody we knew. We spent so much time on him, suffered through so many completely unnecessary, in hindsight, close up shots and random pieces of episodes that focus on him, only for him to get javelined through the middle in the span of half a second.

It feels like the writers were just making fun of the viewers, at this point. Haha, can you believe they actually thought?

Yes, we did think! Did you?

Tech's death was so... unconvincing. They didn't even try. Not only was his life "cut short" in the midst of his character development, said death was caused by falling, without any other kind of injury, while we watch him disappear into the clouds. And then we see no body and only have his broken goggles as "evidence" of his death. What the hell else were we supposed to assume?

That's not even bringing up that Tech gets maybe three mentions all throughout the entire season. The show never touches on how the death of one of their squadmates, people they have known since birth, affects the batch. Not once do they ever say out loud that Tech is dead until the fucking finale.

This isn't just me reading too closely between the lines. This is genuinely bad writing. It's loading chekhov's gun and then refusing to shoot it.

Even if CX-2 wasn't Tech, or even somebody we knew, the way he is treated suggests that he was supposed to be important. He was supposed to be be relevant. And now, he's neither!

Furthermore, where fuck was everybody? Where was Rex with the reinforcements to storm the base? Where was Wolffe deciding he didn't want anything to do with the Empire anymore? Where was Cody? Where was Phee in all of this?

Where was Cid? So we're just... not going to get any kind of closure for that? We spend two entire seasons with her, then she just betrays them and we never see her again? Even if they didn't redeem her, that feels like pretty damn bold move.

The Zillo beast does... barely anything. Really? It just breaks out and moves away from the biggest source of energy it will ever find after causing the slightest amount of property damage to two rooms, and storms off into the woods, and that's all we get? Seriously?

And then once we get to the time jump... Echo's gone. Again. Either still off with Rex, if he hasn't gone into hiding yet, or died off screen. Neither is a good nor satisfying ending for his character. But I guess shouldn't be surprised by that. When have the writers ever cared about Echo?

The biggest problem with the whole thing is that it didn't feel like a finale. It felt like a normal episode, just slightly longer. The Bad Batch returned to Pabu, because I guess there are no consequences from the Batch being discovered there before and the empire decided that they were just going to... leave it alone, and everything returns to the status quo. That's not what a finale does, Dave.

Maybe I'm being too harsh. There were parts that I enjoyed. I'm glad Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair got their happy endings. Seeing Omega all grown up really did something to my heart. But overall I am just so frustrated.

[aquato-family-circus]

Interns & Teachers hcs best to worst

Morris obvs we know doesn't wanna trade his mentorship with Milla so they must get along well, or at least he thinks so! I think he really respects and admires her, and wants to impress her. Milla on her part is textually a very good teacher and caregiver so she probably has given Morris a lot to work with to grow and improve. Maybe Morris was even more of a rascal and trouble maker before we met him and Milla taught him to at least put that energy toward something productive. Like Pirate Radio!

I don't USUALLY like going to extra material for things I think are true but the art book says Adam is senior to the other interns which I think implies he actually has spent plenty of time with Truman, rather than the impression the game gives of "none at all hes in a coma, lol".

That being said I imagine their mentorship is on a very professional feeling level. they get along and maybe Truman even tries to be friendly and casual with the boy, but Adam is super focused on being a good student and working on his big historical project. After the mole incicent though maybe he loosens up! He nearly lost the chance to talk to his mentor ever again after all.

Gisu and Otto are super duper casual in contrast to Adam and Truman. Gisu skateboards into his lab, yells WHATS UP TEACH! Otto says something abt his latest project before throwing a wrench at Gisu who catches it mid sick skate flip because Otto just expects her to help with said project in exchange to credits + not having to do homework for a week. They barely talk outside of this bc the agreement is not spoken and just based on vibes and knowing winks.

After the games I think Lizzie swings back to Compton's and he gives her a stern look and a raised eyebrow like you didn't do my assignment? and Lizzies like dude I tried man. and she thinks shes gonna get a lecture but instead Compton's like I'm sorry about that, let's start over, and then they play chess and he wins 3 times in a row. He learns Lizzie likes "weird" and "ugly" animals like bugs and rats and he makes some new assignment about just observing them in the wild, maybe try to talk to them if she can! and reporting back to him. Lizzie still thinks thisis a bit lame but at least she doesnt have to set up a Goat Trap so its an improvement

Sam learns what Coach did at camp and she doesn't do anything actively malicious but she does give him horrible stink eye for like a week. afterwards they go back to getting along surprisingly well aside from all the times Sam says some shit that sounds oddly like a threat but it goes over Oleander's head like half the time.

If Adam and Truman are a good professional vibe, Norma and Hollis are a bit of a stinky professional vibe. Hollis obviously thinks shes a capable young girl, she did let her teach class while she was off meditating about bills. But Norma wants so much more than that and tries so so so hard to impress her even though she ALSO thinks her homework assignment is boring and childish. She goes to Hollis' office like I want a different assignment, with the unspoken want "do not treat her like a child". and Hollis is like oh ok do you want to learn some advanced techniques that come from reading this big dry book of theory as big as your head. and Norma is like well, no. and Hollis is like ok then do your assignment very neutrally and Norma leaves thinking SHE HATES ME!!! bc I think Norma probably has. bad responses to rejection.

Hopefully Norma improves over time though bc I think! I think Hollis could possibly see a lot of potential in her!! She might even see a girl who's impatient, prone to rash decisions, and wants to prove herself so badly, and see herself in her. which is something that's only just occured to me but i enjoy the idea a lot so thats where I'll end this.

[snezario]

Sub-Optimal; Ala/stor & Vo/x

based from an idea that @sneezingfetishftw posted. I kind of want to expand on that beginning part with a prequel ficlet of Alastor being sick but idk if I'll actually get around to it... I think this is the longest one-shot I've ever written... somehow this turned out to be 1.7k words?

Alastor leans against the headboard of his bed and takes a sip from his mug, grimacing as the hot liquid travels down his throat. Coffee was probably not the best choice right now. The warmth of it was nice against his sore throat. Of course that wasn’t the only unfortunate telltale symptom of illness he had awoken with a couple days ago.

He had been pretty good at hiding the whole illness thing under wraps for the first half of the day, that is until he had to sneeze. Usually he was good at stifling them into oblivion, but this particular cold seemed hellbent on disrupting his ability to control his faculties. The first unstifled sneeze caused all the lights in the hotel to flicker, which wouldn’t have caught much of anyone else’s attention. It was the second, third, and fourth ones that well, almost destroyed it.

It was after that whole fiasco that he was banished to quarantine in his room because according to Vaggie Who the fuck knows what other chaos his sickness will wreak havoc on the hotel? Normally he’d be holed up in his radio tower, but his quarters within the hotel are not half bad. Hence, him still being in bed to begin with. A sharp prickle in his nose reminds him how miserable being sick makes one feel.

hih'ZZSSHHhue!

He tries to keep it contained, lest he face Vaggie’s wrath. Not that she’s much of a threat to him really. As Alastor recovers, he’s interrupted by a loud BANG! His bedroom door swings open to reveal Vox standing dead center in the door frame. Alastor rolls his eyes at the other Overlord.

“Do you mind?”

Vox ignores Alastor’s question and breezes past the threshold, plopping himself on a red armchair by the fireplace. 

“I was just passing through the area and a little birdy told me you were feeling a bit… under the weather.” He scrolls on his phone as he speaks, although the wide grin on his screen makes it obvious how much he’s relishing this moment. Alastor narrows his eyes, an unlikely story— Vox would never pass up the chance to taunt him, especially in a case like this.

“Well, I’m not quite on my deathbed as you can see. I didn’t realize that you missed little old me so much that you just had to come by and visit. It is flattering that you stopped by, in any case.”

Despite how awful he’s feeling, Alastor flashes Vox a cheeky grin, knowing full well just how to push the other demon’s buttons. The entertainment value of seeing Vox absolutely lose his cool is almost limitless. Although the pesky tickle is urgently becoming more than a mere annoyance. Alastor would much rather listen to Pentious’s Egg Bois spew nonsense to him for hours on end than be seen like this. Vulnerable and weak, in front of Vox no less. But it’s not something he can avoid at the moment.

Vox wasn’t someone who shied away from physical contact. He never denied himself the opportunity to encroach on someone’s personal space when he saw fit, it was mostly a tactic he employed to assert dominance or to emphasize a point. Or in this case, threaten his rival. Leaping off the chair, he’s in the radio demon’s face in a heartbeat, clenching the collar of Alastor’s pajamas in his hand.

“You arrogant prick, you think that I give a flying FUCK where you’ve been—”

Vox pauses when Alastor inhales sharply, no doubt to make a scathing retort. The radio demon raises a fist to his face and angles himself away from the other Overlord.

hhzh—hhh’ZTCHhiew! hih! ihĨ̴̢̛̘̠̪͍̠̣̪̪͗͒̓̃̎̀̓̕͜Z̵̪��̱̪̘̺̣̗̘̍Z̷̡̜͔̱͖͉̰̭̽̽̎̆̿̉͝͝T̴̨̧̼̫̜̤͈̖̬͈̈́̄̒̓̾̀̎͠͝S̷̨̱̭͚̬̻̬͐̑̐̏͆͝ͅḨ̵̣͍͈͙͈̝̜͑̓͋̉͊͛̀̑̚H̵̤̯͔̱̓̎̈͘̚̕uu!

The space around them crackles with Eldritch energy, tendrils of which encompass the room. Vox’s screen glitches and completely shuts off.

“What the actual fuck?” The lights flicker back on and Vox’s screen illuminates again. He gives in to a full body shudder (not of his own accord though) as the static shock between them fizzles out. He jumps back from Alastor, his eye spiraling intensely. Alastor sniffles into a plain cloth handkerchief.

“Oh dear, pardon me. I’m not quite in control of my faculties at the moment.”

“I hope you fucking choke on your own mucus,” Vox snarls at him before storming out of Alastor’s room.

It’s humiliating but because the hotel has Alastor as its facilities manager, there is very little modern technology at Vox’s disposal. Meaning, he has to walk… out the front door like a common sinner. The hotel is located quite a bit away from the main hubbub of Pentagram City, which is both a blessing and a curse, depending on who you talk to. Vox makes his way to the edge of the city, a chaotic and desolate area and at the first sight of a screen (an old television set sitting in the window of a dilapidated pawn shop), he transforms into electricity and travels back to the Vees’ penthouse.

What kind of weird voodoo magic did the smiling freak do to me? Vox sits alone in his penthouse suite, glaring at nothing in particular as his eye dilates as he fumes about the outcome of his interaction with Alastor. One day, that pompous bastard would find something more than coffee in that stupid mug of his.

He idly rubs a hand down his screen as a fleeting fuzzy sensation runs through the circuitry in his head, almost like an itch he can’t quite reach. He proceeds to take a long sip from his mug, the coffee in it is only lukewarm but it’s the caffeine boost he wants anyways. Vox is feeling more drained from engaging with Alastor than he thought. It’s not entirely out of the question, but it does surprise him a little. Nothing a little caffeine wouldn’t fix. He downs the rest of the drink and settles into the sofa, turning the plasma screen television screen across from him on with a simple thought. The ambient sound immediately soothes him and the incident with Alastor floats into his memory archives to be forgotten.

An hour passes and Vox is sleepily scrolling on his phone. He could nod off right there. That is until a buzzing in his head catches his attention. It almost feels like tiny feathers caressing his internal wiring, not so much caressing as tickling. Similar to before, he can’t seem to reach it and quell the sensation. But unlike before, it’s not just a momentary annoyance. His deliberation is interrupted when his breath hitches once, then twice before he pitches forward.

“ih…ih'DZZSHHH!”

He blinks in confusion. That’s it? He just had to fucking sneeze? Again, he finds his thoughts disrupted by a familiar sensation. Vox tries to rub the tickle away but given his… specifications he realizes he doesn’t even have a nose to—eh'TZZSSHIEW! hih’IZZSHuhh!

What the fuck is happening? He sniffles. Ugh, gross. 

Between the sneezing, the developing tension headache, and the exhaustion it feels like—Vox’s screen lights up as it dawns on him. He fucking has Alastor’s cold. That motherfucker. His blood pressure skyrockets and sparks shoot off his frame, threatening to short out the electronics in the room (of which there are many). Before he knows it, he’s already electro-teleporting across the pentagram to confront the radio demon.

“ALASTOR, you pretentious manipulative fucking son-of-a—”

Although Alastor can’t determine the actual content of Vox’s plethora of insults and cursing, they do steadily increase volume as he approaches Alastor’s room.

“Hmm?” Alastor turns his head as Vox barges into his room for the second time that day. He is sitting in one of the red armchairs by the fireplace, with a book in his grasp. He wears his deceptively inviting smile as always, although it is slightly dulled down by his current illness. Vox breathing is heavy and ragged, his rage undeterred by Alastor’s placid expression actually seems to intensify as he stands face-to-face from his rival.

“YOU… you did this to me!” He jabs a finger in the radio demon’s face, mere centimeters away from stabbing him in the eye. Alastor calmly pushes Vox’s hand down.

“Careful now, unless you want to cause another city-wide blackout.” Alastor teasingly reminds him of their previous on-air encounter.

“Whatever stunt you phhhulled this m-morhhn—” Vox’s voice falters, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He sharply turns away as he succumbs to the persistent itch.

“hh—hHEHh’IZZSH! Fuh—hih…h’KSHHHIiiue! ih’Z̷͖̥̩͕͒́ͅZ̷̩̲̯̠̺̘̟̆̕T̴̛͔͆̒͌̄̚͘Ć̷̘̒̌͐͝͠H̶̥̦͖̰͙͙͙̩̠̋͛ͅH̶͍͕̪̙̦͎́́̋͝uu! ”

The lights pulsate with each sneeze from the television demon. Vox groans, leaning against the wall. That last one hurt like a bitch. 

“Oho! I see the problem. Apologies, old pal. Snf! I thought someone so advanced as yourself would be immune to such trivialities.” Despite his flippant tone, Alastor is genuinely surprised. He wasn’t actually certain the static shock would have affected Vox when he did it. He is, however, quite entertained by the development.

Before Vox can respond, Vaggie throws the bedroom door open.

“Alastor, what the fuck are you even doing? I thought we told you to—” The ex-exorcist jabs her spear in his direction and is about to go off on him when she notices Vox is slumped against the wall. Spinning her spear, she redirects the point towards him. “What’s he doing here?”

“Oh him? He’s no threat, at least not in his current condition,” Alastor makes a dismissive motion with his hand, a mischievous smile on his lips. Vaggie scowls at him, her hands crossed over her chest. Her gaze flits between Alastor and Vox.

“What did you do—Actually, wait I don’t want to know. Just… stop fucking with the lights.” She swiftly turns around and shuts the door behind her. Still smiling, Alastor turns his attention towards Vox, who’s looking quite pathetic. Well, more so than usual.

“You hear that, my dear Vox? Get a hold of yourself. Now if you’ll exhhcuse me I hh-have— (dang it, now it’s his turn) hh’iZTSHHuu! eh’D̴͚̼̊̂̒Z̵̳̥̈́̀̐͊̃̊̄͘̚Z̵̻͓̖̪̤͊͒̄̓͗́̂͑͜͝͝S̵̼̖͌̔̚HHHiew!” Unfortunate timing, but can’t be helped, Alastor thinks. He scrubs a finger under his nose and proceeds to pore over his book.

Vox narrows his eyes, adjusts his bowtie, and stands up. Vox glares daggers at Alastor, who appears to be ignoring him now. As he heads to the door, he feels an unfortunately familiar prickle at the back of his screen. NO! Not aga— heh’DZZSHHuh! Fuck. He catches Alastor smirking in his periphery.

“Gesundheit!” The radio demon calls out after Vox’s retreating figure.

[koukaimagines]

Hello!! What do you think of a scenario where a goofy reader goes quiet bc of yoon says something like “can you be serious for one second? I wish you’d just stop!” bc he’s stressed out. Then reader stays quiet for a few hours and the HHB don’t really notice until yoon catches her by herself and realizes she’s crying and was trying to hide she felt bad about it cue clearing misunderstandings and fluff!!

I think that sounds very interesting anon! Thank you for sending this one in! Yoon is so cute and I love writing him. Cue silly squabble followed by fluff! I hope this is good, I'm still a little rusty after prying my way out of writer's block and this is my first time writing a scenario request in a WHILE. But I had so much fun writing him! So once again, thank you! I hope any Yun fans reading enjoy it too.

Side note- I never know how to spell his name. Akayona seems based off of ancient korea with the names at least so Yoon feels right to me but I'm so used to seeing it spelt as Yun! I'll keep to Yoon in the writing for now, but what do you guys think?

Reader pronouns are she/her as used in anon's ask!

word count: 1402

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

Yoon

The past few days have been awfully tense for the Happy Hungry Bunch and the Dark Dragon. Resources have been low and all your faces are fresh in the minds of the Kouka citizens. You’re on the run. Your access to village traders and merchants isn’t as lenient as it used to be— you’re forced to wear your hoods over your heads and keep out of sight.

On guard duty, while you and Yoon weren’t looking, a bundle of herbs was carried off by curious critters into the depths of the forest. Luckily, it was nothing you didn’t have seconds of, but resources being as scarce as they were, it weighed on Yoon’s mind quite heavily. 

“Crap— What were you doing??? That could’ve— ugh—” The young genius clenched his hands into fists as his mind turned upside down, trying to find a solution that didn’t exist. His fists loosened, and he found nothing but the end of his sentence. “That was at least one injury’s worth of herbs. Those plants don't grow around here.” He said, turning his back to you and crouching near his bag. He knew this wasn’t the time for an argument. He himself didn’t quite have the energy for one either.

"Well, at least the animals won’t have to worry about an injury then," you smirk, trying to ease his mind with a cute joke. You smile at the thought of raccoons putting their opposable thumbs to use with a rock somewhere, pounding the weeds the way you see Yoon do so often.

Unfortunately, your joke didn't quite land with him.

“Are you being serious?” He turns to you as he's crouched.

“I dunno, when am I ever?” You chuckle, not noticing how his tone is darker than it usually is when he banters with you. You smile at him in hopes that your expression would make him realize the situation itself wasn’t as dire as he made it out to be.

Yoon’s brows furrowed, and your smile faded. He rapidly shot up from his spot, his beautiful features scrunched in a scowl.

“Well, would it kill you to be serious for once??” He thundered. You blinked, trying to process his tone, why he was so upset— and why at you. His gaze grew more intense at your silence. “This is no time to be joking around! Do you realize that??? We’re already low on resources as it is, and you know with this group, injuries are as inevitable as there are stars in the sky!” 

Yoon bit his lip to try to put a lid on his boiling emotions. This was not the time. He needs to prepare for dinner.

“What’s wrong?” A voice emerges from beyond the tree trunks. Yona hurriedly steps through the beaten path and takes a glance back and forth between your expressions.

“What, are they fighting or something?” Hak strolls in, carrying a stack of twigs in his arm. You stay quiet. You don’t know how to answer that, at least not seriously, you suppose.

“Not really.” Yoon mumbles, turning his back to you once more to sort through the edible flora he’s found throughout the day. “Leave your wood by that trunk, Thunder Beast.” 

Your face feels numb at his answer, and you stare at the small back that never failed to support you and everyone else around him. His words echo in your head as footsteps approach you.

“Are you alright?” A dignified voice addresses you, and you look up to see Kija gazing at you with concern laced in his brow. You force a smile.

“Y-Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be? Yoon and I kinda messed up a bit, that’s all… Some raccoons had their way with some of his herbs.” You mutter, busying yourself by taking some materials the returning group brought back.

Kija eyed you with concern as you set down some dry leaves for kindle, but didn’t pry.

---------------------------

The tree branches rustled as the wind carried night across the sky. The fire lapped at the cold air of the season, and dinner was ready. Scooping some soup into some wooden bowls, Yoon bellowed the signal.

“Okay, good work everyone! Dinner’s ready.”

Six bodies crowded around the pot. Yoon raised a brow at the odd void he felt after seeing everyone present— everyone but you.

“Where’s Y/N?”

His question incited many heads to turn and scan the area.

“Ah… come to think of it, she said she’d be going to the bathroom…” Jaeha noted. “Quite some time ago,” he smirked awkwardly, trying to mask his worry as he noted the different colour of the sky now as opposed to when you spoke to him.

Concern began to shape Yoon’s features. “A while ago? Which way did she go?” His heart and mind began to race. His eyes wavered as he stood, and he set the ladle down in the pot filled with a concoction of gruel and herbs. 

“She stepped off somewhere that way. I’ll take Shinah with me, so you can sit tight, Yoon. I’ll bring your little darling back soon.” Jaeha winked. Yoon felt his cheeks warm.

 “She’s not!—” The pretty boy genius cut himself off as he swallowed his pride. This was not the time to fall for Jaeha’s antics. He sifted through the possible fates you might be subject to while his eyes aren’t on you, and a sudden pang hit his chest. At the same moment, Yoon struck an odd realization. 

Were you bothered by what he said earlier? 

Concern started to blur into frustration, annoyance, and guilt. “God… you idiot! What a pain...” He exclaimed under his breath. “Ugh, I’ll look for her! I need to talk to her!” He blurted, hurriedly gathering a few supplies and setting off towards the direction Jaeha pointed in.

------------------------

It didn’t take long for Yoon to find you. You were a little ways out by the river. When he found you, the moonlight kissed your tears as they fell. You were hugging your knees as you watched the steady flow of the stream. The young boy clenched his chest in an attempt to quell an ache he knew he caused.

“Hey, Y/N—” He stepped closer to you, feeling his cheeks warm from the awkward predicament he’s put himself in. He tried to gather the words, but they just didn’t seem to want to come out. “You know, I—”

“I’m sorry,” you managed to say. He held his tongue. His throat felt tight.

That was his line.

“We’re dying just to survive— and I’m making light of things, I’m sorry. You were right.” You muttered through your sleeves as you wiped your disobedient tears. Yoon blinked. That’s not what he wanted to hear, and he was sure that wasn’t not the point you wanted to come to.

“That’s— That’s not it, Y/N, I—” He sighed. He set down his makeshift light source and sat down a ruler’s distance from you. “I’m the one who should be saying sorry. I completely went overboard—” He turned his gaze to the river. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you like that.” He balled his hands into fists on his lap as he fretted over you dimming your warm radiance all because of him. As silly as you were, your idiocy kept the group smiling on some of your worst nights— some of his worst nights— and was a warmth that was irreplaceable in his eyes. “We might be dying to survive, but— w-we can afford to spare a few weeds here and there.” He spoke haughtily.

His blue eyes shined as he lifted his gaze. He took a few shy glances at you before mumbling.  

“A-At least the animals won’t have to worry about an injury anymore, right?”

You turned to him in surprise. His cheeks were red and he looked away when you looked at him. A smile creeped on your lips— that one definitely landed for you.

"Yeah. Do you think raccoons would grind the herbs the way you do? They've got opposable thumbs, don't they?"

His eyes widened as his gaze returned to you. Your smile was infectious, and he began to feel its symptoms.

"You idiot." He whispered. "Even if they did, they wouldn't be able to do it half as well as I can."

With that, you both chuckled in each other's company before you made your way back for dinner.

[moodywyrm]

hi mooney!

i just wanted to share my thoughts on abby n chubby reader (this was definitely NOT based on personal experience or anything) uhm, maybe slight trigger warning for implying an eating disorder?

maybe abby took reader out for lunch or something n absentmindedly said something about reader eating a big meal, (ex. "baby, you sure you're gonna eat all that?") not even meaning it in a bad way but reader thinking abby's suggesting she eat a little less, so reader just loses her appetite and goes kinda silent n doesn't say anything for the rest of lunch cs it reminds her of things her exes have said abt her; abby jus thinking she's sleepy, it goes on for like a couple days n abby getting worried cs her girl is eating less than usual n it's starting to affect her, like reader being more silent, slightly shaking a bit cs of how little she's eating n sleeping more cs her not eating is leading to less energy n it's jus reader falling back into how she used to treat herself before she met abby

abby finally decides to confront reader n reader jus letting the flood gates open n SOBBING to abby about how she thinks abby doesn't love her anymore n how she's sorry for eating so much n just saying how she's trying to get rid of the weight by not eating as much to get her body used to it.

abby is absolutely SHOCKED n confused on why her sweet angel is doing this n when reader explains what abby said, abby jus feels so bad n gives reader the best comfort n reassuring her that she meant nothing by it ["baby i swear! i didnt know :( jus didn't want you getting a tummy ache cs you ate a big breakfast too but i didnt mean you should stop taking care of yourself! :(( ] n abby jus making all of reader's favorite foods n making sure her girl is gettin all her nutrients n stuff in n jus being super comforting by letting reader cry some more n stuff

sorry if this is so long, jus had this thought bobbing around my head n needed to share it with someone :( feel free to get to this anytime ♡︎ hope you're having an amazing day/night

(also, could i be 💌 or 🐇 anon?)

TW: disordered eating, internalized fatphobia + hatred

hi baby! 1) imma choose 💌 bc it's so cute! 2) I'll say it, I have had this experience before (though admittedly without the sweet masc to help me out), so let's go! of course, trigger warning for disordered eating and general discomfort around food and body image. if you can't or don't want to read that, avoid this. avoid it like the plague.

it all started with a comment. you and abby were having brunch after class, as a treat for you having just submitted a huge assignment. and you're starving! you had no time before class to eat, and then your class was an eighty minute chunk. so you're so hungry, and you order a full meal, a smoothie plus a California club and sides! grapefruit, onion rings, fries. (obviously if you have any allergies or preferences, just imagine it's something else for this. the actual food isn't critical to the plot). and when you tell the server your order and they leaves, Abby turns to you and says "You gonna eat all of that, baby?"

and of course she doesn't mean it in a shamey, how-could-you-eat-all-of-that way. she meant it in a can-you-eat-all-of-that-without-getting-a-tummy-ache way. but that's not how it registered. and it makes you feel sick, even when you answer "maybe I'll just take the leftovers"

you definitely end up taking the leftovers, because you get maybe two bites into the sandwich, nibbling on the sides, and decide to just finish the smoothie. you have basically your entire meal untouched, and abby gets full off her own meal, so you have two containers of leftovers to take home, which makes you feel so shitty. and you can hear every negative voice in your head rise up, from family members to peers to exes, everyone who ever fatshamed you and made you feel wrong for trying to nourish your body.

you're quiet all the way home, quiet for days after. abby just assumes you're tired, knowing that you have a lot of school work. and partly, she's right. you are tired. you're fuckign exhausting because you're eating maybe one meal a day, (not) sustaining yourself on coffee and water, doing all of your assignments with no energy whatsoever. and you're fighting yourself, not knowing how to bring it up to abby. that it's not because of what she said, she didn't mean it, but it kind of is because of what she said. and it hurts so fucking bad. so yeah, you're exhausted.

it all comes to a head when you're sitting, kneeling, in front of your mirror, doing your makeup or just getting ready, and when you stand up, you nearly pass out. you're so lightheaded, slamming your hand out to the wall, trying not to fall over. your vision swims, and you try to stabilize yourself. abby, who was sitting at her desk, immediately gets up, practically flying to you and holding you up.

"shit, baby, are you okay?" and she sounds so concerned, you fucking break. the tears are so fast, you don't stand a chance at stopping them. you're standing there, sobbing, and abby is terrified. because she doesn't know why. so she gently guides you over the bed, still crying, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and trying to get you to a state where you can talk.

it takes about fifteen minutes, but you get there, still crying, still hiccuping out sobs, but at least somewhat intelligible.

"I just. I know you didn't mean it to be mean. But last week, at the restaurant, when you asked if I was gonna eat all of the food and-" You can't keep talking because it all floods back to you and you're crying again, clinging to abby like a lifeline, chest hurting from the sobs. But now Abby gets it. She remembers what she said and she figures out how it might've sounded and now she feels like shit. Because she never wanted to hurt you, but intent doesn't matter right now because she did hurt you.

"I'm so sorry baby. I didn't mean to say it like that, and I'm so sorry my words hurt you. I'm so sorry I hurt you. I only asked because I didn't want your stomach to hurt, but I should have worded it so much better. I never, ever, want you to feel guilty about eating, or anything, with me."

You're still crying, still clinging to her, but trying to get the words out. "It's okay baby, I should've" hiccup "should've talked to you, told you how I felt but I just froze" hiccup "and I was so scared you would think I was gross, so I stopped eating so much but that didn't help anything-" and again, you're crying so hard your head hurts, and now Abby is crying, sniffling, trying to hide it because this is about you and she knows if you hear her crying you'll worry about her. So she presses a kiss to your head, rubbing her hands up and down your back.

"I wish you would have talked to me, but I know it's scary and hard and it's so easy in theory. But I'm so sorry I made you feel like you couldn't talk to me. I will always be here for you, baby, always." and when she here's you whisper out a small "I love you", she hauls you into her lap. You're still crying, because you need to let it out, but Abby doesn't move a fucking inch, holding you for as long as you need.

Once you've calmed down enough to move to the couch, Abby gets to work cooking you your favorite meal, trying not to overload you with so much ood that'll make your tummy hurt, but trying to give you a good, balanced dinner after a week of hurt. Sitting at the kitchen island, watching you eat pasta with some lingering trepidation but an overwhelming amount of trust on your face, she would never trade that moment for anything, Abby knows that, for the rest of her life, she wants to take care of you. Wants you to live a life where food isn't pain or punishment, and you're allowed to nourish yourself and enjoy food when you want to.

[carionto]

A Proper Welcoming Party - Epilogue

Always Rig to Blow

Parts 1 2 3 and extra context

Jumping short distances with an emergency activation is generally safe due to the simple fact that the universe is so vast that 99.9999% of the time you'll end up in empty space.

This group of Big Thrashers raiders - Gobsmack's Gobbers (Big Thrasher named everyone and objections meant death) - found themselves in a nightmarish cluster of icy planetesimals, heavily illuminated for some reason, and criss-crossed with makeshift installations and contraptions whose purpose one could only guess at.

Alarms rang out of imminent collision as one of the ice rocks was hurtling towards their general direction. Barely composing themselves, the crew managed to fire up the engines and perform evasive maneuvers, but only just. And only for a brief moment - they were in a navigational nightmare, the likes of which even the most hardcore simulations only ever run as an example for places you never, ever, EVER fly into.

To add to their distress and confusion, the raiders were hailed by a lone Human vessel, which was darting with unbelievable agility through the impossible and ever changing field.

"Howdy there, names Abigail, you boys are lost I'm guessin'. Keep moving for a bit more, I'll turn off the Intermediate track config."

The Gobbers were stunned and blinded by a sudden outburst of hundreds of massive jets streaming immense propulsion force from all of the moving icy objects. Viewed from afar, a magnificent sight to behold - cascading lights, reflections, fiery cones, and sparkly clouds from escaping ice particles. Viewed from within, pure terror, a torturous miasma of fire, ice, dust, and raw force of power emanating from whatever is powering all these massive engines.

Merely a few seconds later though, complete silence. Peaceful even.

"So... bad jump, eh? It happens. Real poor luck ending up here though, gotta say. You should buy lottery tickets beating the odds like this!"

Abigail snort-laughs.

"If ya want, hook up to any of the track-layer movers, those things you just saw that, well, move the track pieces around. I hear our generators can fill up your wee batteries or whatever you got in minutes. Sorry I ain't got much else to offer, still working out the logistics for food and drink stalls here. Hard to get any sponsors so far out, you know?"

The raiders did not.

The more quick witted of the crew had already scanned the whole... mess of whatever this was, as well as Abigail's vessel, and realized something - all these engines mounted on some useless rocks, and her craft in particular, were extraordinarily powerful and tough, and most importantly - not attached to things with giant rail cannons. Big Thrasher wasn't here, so they were allowed to speak up and convince the others using evidence based facts and to make decisions as a group.

The pack of about a dozen ships had made a decision - they would plunder this area, take the Human as a trophy, and form a new Pirate Fleet with their soon-to-be enhanced ships. Abigail did not respond how they expected her to when they made their statement.

"Ooh, so like, you wanna have a competition, eh? See who's gonna be on top of the food chain. Alright."

An excited grin forming on her lips with that last word. A second later, every engine fired a searing jet of energy to once again engage the race track. This time on Expert difficulty.

Two of the Gobbers' ships were instantly crushed between colliding ice rocks, sending a shower of dust and debris all over the place, the rocks bouncing around (with the aid of the engines) to create a true chaos field of death.

It was a struggle to find any valid escape vectors in this ever changing vortex, but a few of the crew were working on a plan. The pilots just needed to keep the ships alive long enough. Meanwhile, Abigail was practically dancing around the field in her customized vessel, named Victor in bold neon lettering on its left flank. Whenever she spotted an opportunity, she manually fired off certain engines to make life for these pirates just a tad more unsurvivable than it already was.

Just as she had split three more ships in half with a particularly slim and sharpened icicle (the size of a small container ship) Victor came to a halt. All systems fried - it was a targeted EMP. Due to the prevalence of shielding technology, electromagnetic pulses were generally not that useful, unless you could generate one powerful enough to overwhelm the entire shield system, but that would be the equivalent of a star shooting one off, so they were rarely fielded. But as ramshackle pirate fleets go, you mount and use whatever you can get your hands on.

One of the more tech-savvy of the crew remembered that they had yet to encounter Human craft with shields, and that one of their ships had an EMP cannon. Being able to put two and two together at a greater pace than their former "Admiral", this one cleverly found a way to quickly defeat the Human.

Another crew member, who liked to dabble in the digital realm, initially dismissed their surprisingly easy access to the engine systems, thinking only a poorly set trap would use "Password" as the passcode for full system access. Once the excitement was slightly lesser from Abigail no longer making it worse every second, did they think to give it a try anyway.

And it worked. The UI was comically simple, again, most would dismiss a screen that just had five buttons on it labeled - [Beginner] [Novice] [Intermediate] [Expert] [Reset] - as a trap, but getting the sense this Human liked things simple, they pressed the Reset button, and once more the fireworks of engines and particles illuminated the area before halting the movements of the race track entirely.

Relieved beyond belief that the nightmare was over, the pirates, formerly know as Gobsmack's Gobbers (they'll come up with a new name soon, they just wanna get rid of Big Thrashers legacy as quickly as possible) set about to strip the place for all it was worth.

All of the pirate ships had indeed taken Abigail up on her previous offer and one of them was the first to finish recharging their hyperdrive, and was about to set out to go and retrieve Abigail's craft, when it suddenly burst back to life and a modified looking escape pod shot off to a fair distance from the track and the pirates who had all latched themselves to it. She opened a comm-link to the pack of raiders:

"Ehmps are annoying, but we got redundancies for a reason fellas. Also, you didn't think this place wasn't set to blow if I couldn't deal with ya'll in a bit more controlled way, did ya?

Well, cuz it is.

Rule #1, buckos - Always rig to blow."

With the flick of a switch and the brightness of a star, Abby's Action Asteroids (trademark never made it through), alongside a half-dozen of the remaining Raider ships, was no more.

Victor, or what's left of him, a shabby escape pod. Hector, sound asleep, she'd just given him a can of wet food before the whole... excitement started. And Abigail - miffed, scuffed, and a little drained, was looking to see what she hadn't "modified" or outright removed from the pod for her other "ideas". Fortunately, basic life support is intact, thrusters and quantum comms though... not so much. There's enough to cobble a regular transmitter and the cryo-stasis module appears intact.

"Welp, looks like it'll just be me, Victor, and Hector, ain't that right? (Oi, at least turn one of yer ears at me). Fine, then it'll be me and Victor. A-hem:

Dear diary, I hope somebody is less than a light-month out from here, cuz I got a fair to attend. They'll be showing off the newest burst jets. Imagine - you're going 0.002C, full stop, 180 turn, then back to 0.002C in under 10 seconds! Sure, any organic'll become a puddle, but at race-track speeds - think of the cornering we can do with that! Anyway, there's food for maybe a week, so imma join Hector now. (C'mere ya bum, we're sleepin' together). The end.

P.S. If you're the popo, it was totally self defense, I got the footage right here, I am not responsible for where the debris goes."

[34saveme34]

me when one of my favourite songs, Dreamstate by Dayseeker

and

Puzzles's current mental state

they......... kinda match........

anyways, man

look this hurts and feels so nice at the same time, like I love when characters break but- but like

knowing he ended up where he did because he didn't have friends

like I know, I'm biased, I'm a Puzzles apologist, I still like marware with all its intricacies, also I'm one of those people who was pretty damn lonely as a child

but man, in the end I still hope he finds a closure of some kind

like if anything, I just want him to yknow fdjklfdjk find a way out of his hellzone of a mind

because like, I saw ppl say how he's legit insane now

but- but he always was. really

it's just he was directing his energies first into movies

then the themepark

trying to be creative was like a coping mechanism to him

I'm guessing it's the sunk cost fallacy getting to him

he watched TV SO much so he SHOULD do something with what he knows now, shouldn't he? And he shouldn't just- let it slip away, right? He can make good things? He isn't worthless, right?

like. cmon

and then the scene where tiny Puzzles turns off the TV and skips away with Leggy

yall are not taking that seriously enough

the only thing that he learned is that there's more things to get unwell about than just television

which is his one single friend he ever had

this means...... okay. look at me. he has goals

he really liked themeparks so he wanted to make one so badly he turned to evil

he watched TV so much so then he turned evil about it, doing everything to steal the show, like literally

now... he had one friend. ONE. One that made him happy like no one else, he wanted nothing more than a friend. he turned off the TV for it in his mindspace. He GAVE UP what he had been his whole life. HIS WHOLE FUCKIN LIFE. He gave up the thing that made him who he is- for friendship.......

based on this pattern, do you realise just HOW dangerous he could become later on? HOPEFULLY MUCH LATER PLEEEEEEEEAAAAAASEEEEEEEEEEEEEE let him REST

and GIVE fanfic writers TIME to write shit about it instead of immediately continuing since Puzzles is such a popular character

but yeah like. christ. redeeming him will be hard <- they wanna write a fic so bad

I mean I don't know where they wanna take him really. If they really want to put him to the point of no return, claiming he's far too gone

claiming that the circumstances wouldn't allow for such a thing anyways, way easier to write than properly making him realise that regardless of where he is, he can always change. He can always be willing to change and for the better at that

you know. I know nobody else will see this but another parallel for 4 and Puzzles

cuz Puzzles- all he did was watch TV all day, right?

well, when 4 isn't with people hanging out and stuff and isn't really taking care of himself- he's watching them memes

I bet if he experienced what Puzzles did, with the disencouragement and all that, they'd be sitting in a very familair place

once again proving how important friendship is to these idiots

and also the willingness to change

maybe one day, Puzzles will get his IGBP SMG3 type monologue from someone who REALLY gets him and he wouldn't need to run anymore. he could finally relax. and move on to a better place

let that be whatever, I just want him to improve, even if that might be involving dying

not that I WANT him to, I just want him to get better is all, I'm a sucker for that kinda stuff

BTW I'LL SAY IT AGAIN

HE DOESN'T NEED TO BE FORGIVEN TO BE REDEEMED

IF ALL HE WANTED TO BE REDEEMED FOR IS FORGIVENESS THEN IT WOULDN'T BE HONEST

FIRST AND FOREMOST HE NEEDS TO WANT IT FOR HIMSELF AND TAKE THE FIRST STEP HIMSELF. MEGGY FEELING FOR HIM DOESN'T REDEEM HIM NOR DOES IT START IT FOR HIM

that is all from me for now

[chiarrara]

new itfskg based on a hc post i saw on here in my fugue state rbing last night i'll add a screenshot or link or smth later maybe idk. okay so baskially how it goes:

megumi and nobara both have a crush on yuuji. this is especially hard for nobara bc she spent the whole first let's say year of their friendship being extremely vocal about how she'd never be into either of them but oops! she got too comfy and caught feelings

nobara eventually breaks down and goes to fushiguro to lament her plight and ask for advice. she's dramatically revealing the source of her suffering when his face gives him away (a big ol "oh no" written on his forehead) (N: what's that face? M: what face... N: oh my god... do you like him too???) (Megumi doesn't say shit cause he's a repressed loser embarrassed of having feelings)

Turns out meg's had a crush on yuuji basically since he met him. he didn't realize it at first of course cause he's way too good at lying to himself. not that good though. he's been silently fostering a deep deep crush for months.

having learned all this, for the next few weeks, nobara starts visiting fushiguro in his dorm anytime she's too overwhelmed by annoying feelings, or pulling him aside during downtime to let off steam, sharing knowing glances and silent communications across rooms. megu's surprisingly glad to have someone to confide in, especially in a way where he's not the center of attention. Since they're both pathetic losers with a crush, he finds it's easier to talk about his feelings than with anything before.

regularly commiserating about how down bad they both are leads nobara and megumi to spend more time separated from yuuji. it's really good for their friendship actually. previously they were both a bit closer to yuuji than to each other, but having a crush to bond over gives them a lot to talk about. yuuji does notice they're spending more time together. and without him. wonder how he feels about that..

one night, nobara barges into megumi's room to complain about yuuji being way too cute and funny at dinner or something while megumi's laying in bed reading. she just plops down half on top of him and starts in. He reluctantly puts his book down but he doesn't object. they've gotten pretty used to each other. so she's going off, grumbling into his shoulder, gripping his sweatshirt out of frustration, and when she looks up, fushiguro looks down at her. their faces less than a foot apart as she's leaning into him, lying together in his bed and...

N: what's that face

M: what face?

he looks away. nobara turns his face back to hers

N: that face

M: (without breaking *very intense* eye contact) I dont' know what you're talking about

they make out

it's very much teenagers with a lot of pent up energy that needs to go somewhere fooling around like teenagers with pent up energy that needs to go somewhere. they kind of crash together, they're grabbing at arms and shoulders and faces, pulling each other as close as they can without ever breaking the kiss. At one point, nobara in readjusting to keep from falling off the bed ends up on top of megumi, knees on either side of his hips, one hand propping herself up and one gripped in the fabric of his sweatshirt. he pulls her into him and rolls them over so they're chest to chest with him on top. he's pushes his hands into her hair, she wraps her arms around his back and twists her leg around h--

two knocks and the door opens

"Hey Fushiguro, I wanted to see if you..."

Yuuji's halfway through the doorway and his face is morphing into the picture of absolute despair

megumi and nobara are...like this

(they're not naked, they're just microsoft paint stick people)

"Oh, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... I'll just..." Yuuji sputters and stumbles out the door.

(simultaneously) M: Shit.. N: Fuck!

so the mood's kiiinda dead.... megumi ends up leaned up against the wall with his head in his hands. nobara's staring blankly at the ceiling. Eventually, nobara says, "did you see his face?" M: "mm" N: "so...which one of us do you think he likes?"

---END OF PART ONE---

(I'll continue it in like... 5 minutes probably)

[angelfoodcake222]

I made this post posing the question the read along the lines of "How would these characters react to their friend or S/O, Y/N, coming home after a big fight that made them temporarily forget about a prescheduled meet-up at their (Y/N's) place?" or something to that effect. Here's what I have for the selected individuals.

TW: The reader [that's you] gets into a big fight, mentions combat, blood, violence, & bandaging. Comfort at the end of each. Reader is in a dress on Mac's part for "Fabric in the Midnight Wind" effect~.

A/N (Author's Note): I'm labeling this as NSFW as it is dealing with violent elements. I'll make a traditional NSFW version if this one gets some traction via reblogs. Since there is a lot to read in one sitting, I'll sever this up to the Three Monkey Bois for now. On with the reading, enjoy.

Monkey Trio x Hurt!Reader

Sun Wukong, The Monkey King

Translation: "I have a way to make you truly confident!" 🫣 😳

>Boy! If you never live to see a single soul genuinely worry for your well-being, Sunny/Sunshine/Sundrop would be the lone beacon of an example you would ever think of.

>Hey was just chilling on your sofa, munching on some peach chips you had stored up for him, snug in a pile of blankets, pillows & plushies while awaiting your arrival.

>He came in a bit earlier to get y'all's movie night all set up so you could both relax, watch some movies (most are his own but they're from your collection anyway, being the 2nd biggest SWK fan right beside MK although Sun could argue who's who in that arena), then have a nice conversation before falling asleep on the amassed cushions while basking in each other's presence.

>The door clicked open before it screamed from your falling into the mudroom portion of the entrance, closing with just as much force as you close it with your foot. You grunt from your prone position into an uncomfortable kneeling one with a bit of effort just to be jump-scared by your simian companion.

>"What happened!?" "Why didn't you call me!?" "Who did this to you!?" "Your knuckles are redder than my scarf!"

>You settled your index finger over his mouth prompting his lips to zip together momentarily as you spoke lowly, your crimson essence oozing from somewhere just behind your hairline & over your face like a scene out of a horror film.

"Sunshine, Sundrop, Sunny, I love you & all, but I have the worst migraine imaginable right now & I'd greatly appreciate it if you could crank the energy down to a two for tonight. Please?"

>You try to stand but the shifting upsets the injuries to your leg & head causing you to falter shortly. Luckily, SWK has you covered.

>He sweeps you onto the softest cloud you could ever imagine & eases you the the bathroom where he helps bandage you almost to the point of mummification, only stopping when your wounds' blood flow does.

>The apology for forgetting about the meet-up was quickly fanned off as he stated that he was just glad that you were alive & had the strength to make it home.

>Without a moment to process movement, you were placed dotingly in the nest of new & old fabrics as SWK spoke with you about what happened unless you didn't want to talk about it.

>Either way, the night draws to a close with the two of you subdued by slumber & a plumbing adrenaline boost.

>At times like these, SWK wished he had Macaque's hearing so you would always be safe. Always.

•Bonus points if Y/N's eyes are bloodshot to such a degree that makes them match SWK in a macabre way, be it from fatigue, something thrown into their eyes, or even some cheap temple-based shots.

(((The Six-Eared))) Macaque

>>This one got out of hand & pocket for me, I apologize.

>Mans was so proud of you, that's a fact.

>For obvious reasons, Mac is a special case. Y'know, with him being nearly omniscient & all that to an uncanny degree.

>He heard it.

>No ifs, &s, or buts, he heard you struggling & portalled to the parking lot you had been ganged up into.

>When he got there, he couldn't move as he was watching you take the punks out left, right & center.

>Looks like you had been watching him closer than he originally thought.

>True, you learned his moves to a T, but there were many new moves he had not shown you nor did he learn of these moves until then.

>He couldn't resist sneaking closer, hiding in the shadows of light posts, the building the lot is connected to, even in the shadow of already fallen opponents just to watch you. Admire you.

>He had never seen you, his patient, doting, tiny slice of divine decadency, go absolutely feral on a pack of semi-post-pubescent punks before or on anyone or thing for that matter.

>You were rage personified; limbs snapped like malnourished celery stalks, punches to the torso forcing their knees to buckle lending to your own knee's task of colliding almost mercilessly collide with its target's face with a sickening smack, your nails digging into their now-exposed flesh as the battle left you with no other option but to strip the young adult males of their slivers of protection.

>All of this started just because none of them, not a single one, could or would take "No" as an answer to their sleazy, seedy, downright disgusting "generous offers" which led to them ganging up on you in the store's parking lot which escalated to the beating the few alpha-minded ingrates were receiving currently.

>They tore your dress up anyway, this angered you to the point of whooping them as Mac had bought that for you. It was a simple, comfy, modest dress to match your overall vibes, nothing skimpy or gaudy, but you were not pleased.

>In the heat of the fight, you had dropped the groceries you gathered just for your & Mac's night together; plums, sweets, a well-sized but not massive blanket to cuddle under, even a horror movie the two of you have been meaning to watch together for months up to this point.

>While you handed the last opponent's own backside to them on a silver platter, Mac sneakily gathered the miraculously safe items from beside your bicycle so as to not distract you from your feral focus & set them into the basket, simultaneously watching you send the remaining idiot whimpering off like the cowardly cockroach they were.

>Once you finish scolding the crawling mess now at least a few yards from you, Mac chuckled.

>"Mac!? How long were you standing there??" Your primordial bloodlust plummeted once your eyes landed on the lone trustworthy male as he stood under the flickering, stained light of the decrepit lamp post you parked under so far from the store because of a rude worker who threatened you far earlier. His smile sent rosey tones over your face.

>"Calm down, Sugar Plum. I heard you having a scuffle & came to help. Looks like you did a lot more studying than just watching me in the Dojo, huh?" That iconic smirk of his sent your soft pink face into a richer red that singed the forming bruise on your cheek & corresponding cut into an agitated throb. He leans to remove his cloak/cape, settling it over your shoulders as the chilly night air starts to reach through your heated skin.

>"Even though I think you look absolutely ravishing like this, I am still upset about those creeps touching you at all." You cock your not-so-sore brow at him. A smart comment was forming but wilted as you looked down, frowning at your garbs.

>Yes, you could sew it back together but it was the idea of the garb that Mac had searched & selected just for you that made you sad.

>"I could always get another dress for you." You shake your head at his kind offer before smiling.

>"& miss out on having tangible story markers? No way! These rips may look unseemly, but they are important & signify lessons well learned. I can patch 'em up, Mac. No worries."

>You welcomed wounds & injuries with torn fabric to boot over a few self-learned lessons? He should take a page or two from your book.

>His smile reflected yours, with all the warmth & kindness you've shown each other for nearly a year now.

>The walk through one of his portals, bike & groceries in tow, & into your home's front entrance area was probably one of the calmest moments of your day.

>Like SWK, Mac gathered plushies, pillows & the only blanket you had that wasn't washing right then onto your loveseat sofa.

>He tried brewing tea for you earlier but tripped & spilled it on the mound of blankets while trying to bring the whole kettle, sugar/sweetener & milk/cream to the softest place in the dwelling, leaving the current one being the lone survivor in the soaking accident.

>It was patterned with cartoon macaque monkeys chasing uncanny anthropomorphic bananas. Cute, though this was a gag gift from a relative of yours. You kept it anyway.

>While he bandaged your semi-dressed form, you worked on the dress after getting most of the blood out of its fabric.

>If he wasn't so busy trying not to bind your wounds too tightly or loosely, he'd be peacefully watching your needle pass through the garb's wounds as it pulled the thread behind it.

>The rest of the night was spent with small talk & cuddles, snacks, & a long-awaited horror movie you both giggled through.

>Slumber followed soon after the credits rolled in. Well, for you it did.

>Mac stayed up, watching your bruised, bludgeoned, slightly bleeding form's chest move as you breathed, your heart's recently rabid pace now slowed to its calmest rhythm.

>He made a mental note to dismantle each & every one of those creepers mentally & physically in due time, a devout note at that.

>For now, he rests his tail on you as his dreams follow his arms carefully curling around your tender body.

>Unmitigated dreams of a bloodied, armor-clad you wooing him Fabio style did little to calm his heart rate.

MK (Monkey Kid)

>He was slightly different from the two later seniors in terms of setup.

>He had the comfy setup but it was all around your coffee table where fun, colorful board games sat in their boxes with plates of apple slices, fruit salads & favored drinks & dips placed near it. Video games acted as a backup plan this time.

>The real meal was simmering on your stove.

>He even made a checklist & focused on it with all his heart & mind.

>He only got distracted twice! You'd be so proud of him once you came home!

>This is where MK is teetering between SWK & Mac; he was sitting patiently, doodling for a bit until he sensed something was off, like Mac.

>He chose Mac's route to head out & find you ASAP but was hindered by your limping shape stepping around the corner.

>He would have apologized for not watching where he was going if it weren't for you asking him why he was out this late all by himself.

>Cue the SWK reaction: "What happened!?" "Who did this!?" "Let's get you inside!" All of this was said in one compressed breath as he ushered you through the front door & onto the cushioned floor.

>He rushes to your bathroom to find the First Aid kit you always kept filled to the gills with life-saving tools. "Lifesaving" being defined as bumps & boo-boos by MK's racing mind.

>When he turns to see what you're giggling at, you catch his temple with your lips, smiling admiringly at his reaction.

>"My hero~." You compliment as he falls over in a plumb of blush, still gripping the bandages leading to your half-wrapped limb.

>He regains his composure enough to finish his task & hug onto you, only leaving to make your respective meals.

>The meals, drinks & snacks were delicious, the board games were simple enough. You both came to a tie on a racing game, calling a truce in trade of small talk on the gathered bedding beneath you two.

>Sleep was a slow-moving thing when you were with MK, his excitable energy was contagious & activated by anything & everything.

>You both randomly plummet into respite as MK dreams of a cheesy scene based on your complaint earlier.

A/N: OK, this was a bit short, but I'll be making more of this later. Mei, Sandy, Pigsy & Tang are next! Find my master list here!

Finishes one piece/part of a series. Five milliseconds later, me: