#is it actually an illness or do you just find it ''cringe''?

[umblrspectrum]

updated some ref sheets and also actually made jcj one

[doomedclockworkdotmp3]

i didnt write my essay for this 👍👍

im so festive with my red and green color combos n whatnot

[theoldworldsrunnerup]

Oopsies my hand slipped and I drew this

[todayisafridaynight]

time a flat circle why the hell am i usin the same loafers i bought for one cosplay of my fave antagonist for another fave antagonist

[yandere-daydreams]

Screening: Dracula (1931).

Pairing: Yandere!Chrollo x Reader (HxH).

Runtime: 1.8k.

TW: Implied Non/Con, Obsessive Behavior, Threats of Physical Violence, Slight Gore, and Mentions of Death.

Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

You could feel his eyes burning into you from the other side of the abruptly-too-short table, the chill of the marble slab where it threatened to press into your midriff, but you did your best to ignore both. The table had already been set by the time you were called down to the dining room, a small army of silver platters arranged neatly in the space between you and him. You hadn’t eaten since the night before, but you weren’t hungry. Even if you had been, it was hard to imagine forcing yourself to choke down anything aside from your own anxiety. You were tempted to try your luck with the generously poured glass of wine to your left, but to drink it, you’d have to reach for it, and to reach for it, you’d have to lift your hands from where they were balled in your lap and you couldn’t do that because your hands wouldn’t stop fucking shak—

“Is the meal not to your tastes, dear?”

“It’s perfect,” you responded immediately, beaming. You grabbed the wine glass before you could hesitate, drinking as much as you could stand to. Chrollo’s ever-present grin had taken on a contented lull by the time you set it down. “Remind me to thank the chef before I leave. That is, if I ever actually manage to catch him.” And then, with a forced laugh, “That is, if this storm ever lets up long enough for me to get out of here.”

As if on cue, thunder clapped outside, followed shortly by a bolt of lightning bright enough to cast the dimly light dining room in a vibrant silver haze. You shrunk into your seat, but Chrollo’s dark eyes only seemed to brighten. “I’m honestly surprised you haven’t run into a member of my staff, yet. It’s been… how long? Four days?” Six. Come midnight, you’d be celebrating your week-long anniversary. “I hope you don’t think I’m keeping anyone away from you deliberately. Not that I’d mind keeping you to myself.”

It took everything you had to smile rather than cringe, to laugh rather than bury your face in your hands and scream. A day ago, you would’ve found your host’s nonchalance charming, but it was hard to find someone charming when the thought of meeting his eyes made you feel physically sick. It was hard to believe you’d been so thankful when you first turned-up on the doorstep of his dark, empty countryside mansion, when you realized you wouldn’t be at the mercy of an ancient, self-isolating millionaire but a man around you own age who, as far as you could tell, was as flustered to see you as you were to need his help. You explained that your car broke down about half a mile down the road, and he invited you to spend the night before calling for help at a more reasonable hour. The typhoon had rolled in not long before sunrise, and, well…

Again, thunder crashed and rain pelted the mansion from all directions. This time, you flinched into your seat before you could stop yourself.

It was your own fault, honestly. It’s not like there weren’t signs that something was wrong. Chrollo was charming, but he was off-putting, too. He seemed to treat the concept of personal space as more of a suggestion as a rule, whether that meant seeking you out in the tightest corner of the mansion’s sprawling library just to share a sofa truly meant for, at most, one person or letting himself into your room at night as if he couldn’t tell the difference between two in the afternoon and two in the morning. He claimed to have a full staff, and yet, you’d never run into any maids, butlers or cooks – never saw anyone who wasn’t Chrollo. His clothes always seemed to be either strange or ill-fitting, like he was wearing items from someone else’s closet, and more damningly, he didn’t seem at all suspicious of you, the stranger he’d allowed to stay in his home for nearly a week, now. No offense was particularly jarring, but it should’ve added up. You should’ve noticed sooner.

The only thing you could do, you figured, was bid your time and sneak out in the early hours of the morning. The landlines were down and you didn’t have cell reception, but the next house couldn’t be that far away, and you doubted Chrollo would follow you into the storm. Or, you hoped he wouldn’t, at least. You couldn’t really do much more than that.

“So,” Chrollo went on, and you made a point of nodding and smiling like he’d just said the smartest thing you’d ever heard, “When did you find the bodies?”

Immediately, your expression fell. A second later, you noticed that your hands had stopped shaking, but only because you’d lost the ability to move entirely.

When you finally regained the will to speak, it was all you could do to spit out something pathetically noncommittal. “...I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

“Don’t be shy. I promise, I’m not mad, just curious.” He paused, letting his eyes bore into you. “You left the door unlocked.”

Ah.

The basement door, to be more specific. Calling what you’d found ‘bodies’ might’ve been a little generous, too. What little had been left of each corpse was already so badly deteriorated that it would’ve been impossible to tell which detached hand might’ve belonged to what disembodied torso. That was probably your fault, too. If you’d known to be wary of Chrollo, you would’ve known better than to follow him into the one place he’d asked you not to go, the one place he seemed to always disappear to when he wasn’t breathing down your neck.

“This morning,” you admitted. “I was bored and looking for you. Honestly, it’s kind of embarrassing that it took me this long to realize you were a…”

You trailed off, but Chrollo was more than happy to finish in your stead. “A member of the Phantom Troupe?”

This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from buckling – your mouth falling open as you stared at him, wide-eyed. “Oh my god,” And then, after burying your face in your hands, “I thought you were a fucking vampire, you goth prick.”

That was enough to earn an airy chuckle from Chrollo, any condescension hidden well underneath wry amusement. While you tried to recover, he went on. “I suppose I don’t have to tell you that I don’t actually live here. In truth, I only arrived a few hours before you did – long enough to dispose of the residents and staff, even if getting rid of their remains has been an…” For once, his eyes shifted away from you, skirting to the left. “An ongoing process.”

With a shallow sigh, he pushed himself to his feet rounding the table and falling into the chair closest to you. Dinner, if he’d ever had any interest in it at all, was thoroughly forgotten as he propped an arm on the edge and rested his chin on his knuckles. “I hope you’ll forgive me for not being more upfront. In a line of work like mine, it’s so rare to find an opportunity to play house.”

So, he was a thief. No, it was more than that – he was a world-class thief, with worse crimes under his belt than a handful of homicides and the wrongful imprisonment of one confused civilian. God. This was bad. You should’ve left earlier – as soon as you found the bodies. You should’ve never gotten out of your car at all.

Slowly, you straightened your back, keeping your arms crossed as you glared half-heartedly. “Are you going to let me leave?”

He hummed, drumming his fingers against his jaw. “Now, why would I go and do something like that?”

Your heart sank in your chest. “You’re going to kill me, then?”

“Now you’re just being hurtful.” It was uncanny, how little his demeanor changed prior and post to his confession. If anything, he seemed even more smug – like he was basking in your apparent terror. “As if I could be so wasteful. Besides, I was under the impression that you’ve been enjoying out time together.”

“And I was under the impression that you weren’t a serial killer!” You threw up your hands, agitation quickly overshadowing the worst of your nerves. “Things can change!”

“I suppose they can.” He was so frustratingly calm. If the memory of his dissected victims wasn’t burnt so deeply into your mind, you would’ve rolled your eyes. “And eventually, things will. You don’t think I plan to keep you trapped in this estate forever, do you?”

Rather than dwell on the implication, you moved on swiftly. “If you’re not going to hurt me, you can’t stop me from leaving. The storm can’t be more dangerous than spending another night with you.”

Somehow, his smile only seemed to grow that much wider. “Did you know that the majority of deaths related to natural disasters are from delayed attempts to evacuate? There are all sorts of threats – flooding, debris, sinkholes…” He brightened with each listed hazard, and you tried (and failed) not to picture yourself drowning in muddy rainwater. “Oh, and sickness, of course. Spend enough time in the rain and it won’t matter if you eventually find shelter – you’ll die of pneumonia in a matter of weeks.”

“You don’t know—”

“And, for the record, I said I wasn’t planning to kill you. You never asked about anything else.” He let out a dry chuckle. “I’m sorry, but I sure you understand. It’d just be irresponsible to promise that I’ll never have to, say, dislocate your ankle to stop you from making a very brash, very unadvisable decision.”

“Like calling the cops.”

“Like trying to go outside in a very bad, very easily deadly storm,” he clarified. “You can contact anyone you’d like, but please, try to be considerate. I’m going to run out of room in the basement eventually.”

This time, when you melted into your seat, it wasn’t out of reflex or anxiety, but in a deliberate effort to put that much more distance between him and you. “I… I don’t want to get hurt, and I don’t want to die,” you admitted, taking longer than it should’ve to say something so glaringly obvious. “Tell me what I have to do to make that not happen.”

Yet another clap of thunder. This time, the lightning didn’t so much as tint his soulless eyes. “Straight to the point, as always. I like that about you.”

For the first time, he seemed to hesitate – a pink haze spreading over his pale cheeks as he reached out and laid his hand, almost gingerly, over yours. His trepidation was short-lived, though, only lasting up until the second you tried to pull away and he had an excuse to intertwine his fingers with yours, his grip tight enough to bruise.

“Why don’t we get to bed, darling?”  

[renranram]

Maid dress

nsfw!!

schlatt jerking off to reader while she's streaming, obvi inspired when j bought wenston some maid outfits and people were calling him his sugar daddy lols

a/n ; 886 words :)

reader flaunts herself at the camera, spinning whilst she tries on the maid outfit schlatt had bought her, " chat, do i look pretty? " she smiles as she assembles the outfit

meanwhile schlatt was on the call with her, eyes immensely focused on her live stream, " jesus fuck, you look worse " he mutters as reader glares at him through the camera

" well, you bought this for me, so maybe it's not me who's the problem " she rolls her eyes at him as schlatt chuckles, not taking his eyes off his screen once

the two had been close friends for over a year now, meeting through, shamefully, the dsmp, the duo are very different ccs on their own, reader being more into makeup and gaming whilst schlatt's varies

ever since they first met on the server the two just sparked a connection, coming off as frenemies for the public, a banter of theirs but exactly off camera, it was a whole different story

schlatt is reader's sugar daddy

at first reader would just joke about being broke, " oh my fucking godd it's so pretty but i dont wanna waste my money ", " that's so fucking expensive ", " okay im broke " until schlatt got tired and actually offered her to be her sugar daddy

at first reader thought it was a joke, a silly new banter for them but nope!, every week, new parcels would arrive on the streamer's doorstep with small notes, but chat doesn't know that, chat doesn't need to know that

" fine, ill get you a new one done " he mumbles, as he scrolls through amazon, " anime french maid apron lolita fancy dress cosplay costume furry cat ear gloves socks set " he reads out the title causing reader to chuckle as they wear the stockings for the uniform

" oh it comes in pink " he added as reader smiles, " i like pink " she replies as schlatt scoffs, " of course you do "

as the girl sits down on her bed to wear the stockings, schlatt's eyes linger down on her bare thighs, enjoying the view as he leans back on his chair

" do you need something else too? " he mutters as reader gasps, " oh my gosh! you should buy me that uhm... blaire doll thing " she smiles as schlatt shakes his head, " blaire doll thing? " he repeats her, " the fuck is that? "

reader tries to wear the collar to complete the look, " it's like a doll! " she states as she grabs her phone to show off the picture

" that's an ugly looking doll " he mutters, as he gulps, looking down at his now hard on, unironically finding reader in a whole cat maid dress... hot

" more uglier than you are " she retorts as he chuckles, " guess no more doll for you then " schlatt replies, shrugging as reader gasps, now pouting

" im kiddingggg pleaseee buy me one? " she pleads looking at the camera as her live chat speeds up, " .. fuck.. " he groans out, not loud enough for his mic to pick up, him slowly sliding in his hand inside his shorts

" please please please " she continues, as she reads off the chat, " please jschlatt senpai " she bursts out laughing, mentally cringing as schlatt chuckles, " ..fine "

" yay! chat! we fucking wonnn! " she celebrates as she jumps around the frame, clasping her hands together, " we're the best at this shit " she shrugs, smug, unaware that the man she's in a call with is already jerking off to her

" reader.., think im gonna mute for a sec, gotta do something " he mumbles as reader nods, understanding, " bet, im gonna talk with chat for a bit " she smiles, as schlatt immediately mutes himself

" fuck.. what a fucking whore.. i didn't actually think she'd do a stream " schlatt chuckles, amused as he palms himself, as reader did what she said, interacting with her audience

" what a pretty slut holy shit " he chuckles, clearly amused as he bites his lip, his rough hand playing with his dick

" chat i look so pretty right? " reader asks, fixing her hair as chat spams yes, " you damn sure are " he mumbles, as he grabs the base of his cock, using his saliva for lube

" ah fuck, fucking.. so fucking pretty " he breathes out, his body shuddering slightly as he jerks himself off, his eyes never leaving her

" fuck.. fuck.. " schlatt throws his head back as he leans back on his chair, fastening his pace, " stupid fucking whore.. "

he moans out, lifting his shirt up, as he continues to palm himself at the sight of her, he's never gonna buy her those stupid costumes again

or maybe he'll rain her with more gifts, then maybe a flight to texas so she can show everything off to him... maybe

his lashes flutter, fastening his already fast pace as he continues to moan, " stupid fucking slut, .. shit... pretty- pretty whore " he stammers

he can feel his precum leaking as reader talks with her chat, innocent yet suggestive, that stupid maid dress, if schlatt can immediately fly to london, he fucking would, he'd immediately bend her over, not caring if she was streaming or not and fuck her like some animal

" ah fuck! " he moans loudly, his semen, spurting on his keyboard making a fucking mess, " shit... " he groans out

maybe instead of ordering her a new costume, maybe he'll fly her out instead

[venus-haze]

Playing Pretend (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: Homelander’s secret identity is an ill-fated experiment in normalcy for a man who had grown up with anything but. He manages to keep his story straight until he runs into you in the hallway of your building one night, assuming the blood on his face and clothes are his and not the low-level criminals he’d just taken care of. While you’re playing nurse, Homelander’s playing John, but he’s not sure how much longer he can keep up the facade around you.

Note: Gender-neutral reader, and no descriptors are used. So Casual!Lander got me thinking about secret identity!Homelander again. Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Hurt/comfort. Some emotional manipulation, but this is on the fluffier side of things I've written.

Homelander hadn’t expected the blood on his civilian clothes to be much of a problem. It was late, he reported the incident to Vought and would be up a few points when the story hit the news in the morning. Typically, he returned to the Tower when something like this happened, but instead, he was drawn to the apartment he’d been set up with as part of his undercover identity.

A secret identity was exciting at first, a brand new challenge for him. Except he didn’t entirely get it. Wasn’t the point of everything he’d been through so that he could be Homelander? The best of the best, America’s savior? Not some guy named John living in a crappy apartment downtown. But Edgar wanted it, and so it was done.

The apartment itself didn’t feel like home. The pictures on the wall, knick-knacks on the bookshelves, they weren’t his. But the man he was pretending to be had a dizzying backstory that he found difficult to keep track of at first, and then irrationally jealous of once he got the hang of spitting out anecdotes about family barbecues and youth basketball leagues. Stuff everyone else got except for him, apparently, because they were always met with mind-numbingly boring stories of other people’s mirrored experiences that he had to “Oh?” and “Wow!” through like he actually cared.

“John!” You called out from down the hall as he approached, laundry basket in your arms.

He smiled. A real one. At least in all of this, he met you.

“Hey neighbor!” he greeted cheerfully, as if it were bright and early and not nearly midnight.

“What are you—” Your face twisted as he approached. Your heart thumped almost deafeningly. “Oh my god, what happened?”

“What?”

“John, you’re bleeding. Let me take you to the emergency room.”

“That’s not necessary. I–I don’t like doctors,” he said, the statement not feeling as much like a lie as he thought. “Most of it isn’t even mine.”

“I have a first aid kit in my bathroom. At least let me clean you up a little?”

“Alright,” he reluctantly agreed.

You practically kicked open the door to your place, throwing your laundry basket aside and making a beeline for the bathroom like his life depended on it. If he were anyone else, it probably would have. He caught his warped reflection in your stainless steel refrigerator and cringed a bit. It did look pretty bad.

He inexplicably tensed upon seeing you return with the first aid kit, your brows knit together in worry. 

“Sit, please,” you urged as you laid out the contents of the kit on your kitchen table. “Oh John, what happened?”

“You know me, I always gotta get the story,” he said, his cover as a crime reporter not having failed him yet.

Your eyes watered as you looked at him. “One of these days you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“What I’m doing helps people. It saves lives. That’s worth it to me.”

You picked up a cotton ball soaked in peroxide. “Let me know if it hurts, okay?”

He hesitated. That kind of thing had never been up to him. It either hurt or it didn’t, and if it didn’t hurt, they’d find out how to make it so it did. 

“Okay,” he said, tense as your hand approached his face.

Even thinking about the doctors he grew up with made an ugly pit settle heavy in his stomach. But you weren’t a doctor. You were you, and it was cute how you played nurse. Tended to his wounds like they were real, like the blood was his. Did you notice how quickly they disappeared beneath your cotton-padded touch, leaving no trace of cut or bruise behind?

“It looks a lot worse than it is, don’t worry,” you assured him.

“That’s good.”

He had plenty of practice sitting patiently while being poked and prodded, but never with the unnecessary care you used. 

He wanted to tell you. But then it’d defeat the purpose of a secret identity. Besides, just outright telling you wouldn’t be the grand, romantic gesture he pictured. 

Late at night. You. Alone in the city for god knows what reason even though you know better. He’s told you enough that you should know better. It wouldn’t matter. Because he’d be there. The Homelander swooping in to save you from some thug on the street. It’d be then that you’d see him for who he really was, who he was made to be instead of the pitiful facade you were presently tending to. So taken by the act, by him, your hero, you’d melt in his arms and let him take you away from the hovel of an apartment building you two shared and into bliss.

A shiver ran down his spine at the thought.

“I’m sorry,” you cooed, dabbing just above his eyebrow with a cotton ball. “I’m almost done.”

Sorry? Oh. You thought you hurt him. “I told you, I can take it.”

“I still feel bad,” you said. “Did you go to the police?”

“No, you know I usually don’t bother with that. Interferes with my own investigations,” he said.

You pursed your lips. You didn’t quite believe him, or were at least frustrated with his lack of personal safety. Worrying you wasn’t something he wanted to be in the habit of, but you poured out attention and care for him in such a way he could feel himself itching for more. It’d been like that since he first met you, the only kind and welcoming person in the damn building. Perhaps that was why he kept up with his secret identity for so much longer than he wanted to, his attachment to you, to this fake life he led with you in it.

But he could just as easily make a new one, a better one for the both of you once you knew the truth. 

“You made out alright, John,” you said, glancing over his face. “Really well, actually. It doesn’t even look like anything happened.”

“I’m tougher than I look,” he joked, hoping to dissipate some of your suspicion.

He heard you swallow roughly.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

You reached out, caressing his cheek. “I just worry about you, that’s all.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I can’t help it.”

Silence fell between the two of you for a few moments, and you began to pull your hand away from his face until he caught your wrist and spoke your name softly.

“I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” you asked.

He hesitated a moment. I’m The Homelander. Instead, he pulled you closer, his gaze falling to your lips before kissing you.

You kissed him back softly, with an otherwise foreign tenderness that made him especially conscious of how he held you. His physical control was better, almost perfect. No more accidental bone breaking or spine snapping. He wouldn’t be The Homelander if he couldn’t control himself. 

But it was hard, with how deeply he felt for you, how much his emotions threatened to overtake years of practice and conditioning to manage his sheer strength. The Homelander didn’t have any weaknesses—save for seeing through zinc—but he was certain none of the scientists who poked and prodded him for years on end would have ever bet on you.

[wheeloffortune-design]

Artistic maturity

Something I had to learn the hard way is that being an artist or a creative person means you need to have inner growth relative to art. Here are some harsh truths I'm still trying to accept:

You need to take care of your mental health, and deal with your trauma/neurodivergence/mental illness as soon as possible. Because the suffering artist myth is just a myth, there's only so much creativity you can squeeze out of your tortured soul, and generally it's raw but not that good. Get therapy, get better, and you can create more and better things.

You also need to take care of your physical health, because we want to still be doing this when we're 80. When you're young you can make miracles if you skip sleep, but that's not a long term solution. Don't push yourself too hard, and treat this like a marathon. Don't hurt yourself, take care of those wrists, that back, that neck, because once they're hurt, you just can't create like you used to. I had to stop drawing for two years after getting wrists tendinitis. So get enough sleep, sit right, stretch, we're have several decades of this in front of us.

It's fine if you can't find work in a creative field. The world is harsh, capitalism is inescapable, and you need to put food on the table. Having an unrelated day job and working on your projects in your free time is a very smart way to live.

Actually, creative jobs can also drain you of your creative energy and leave you nothing for your personal projects. Creating for other people is work, should be compensated and treated as such, and you shouldn't be told to be grateful to work in a creative industry.

YOUR WORTH IS NOT RELATED TO WHAT YOU MAKE. It's the hardest one to accept. Yes people like us when we make pretty things. But you need to understand that you are still a complete person, worthy of love, if you didn't create a single thing in your life.

Nothing is cringe. Everything is cringe. The weird characters you create at 17 will make wonderful stories when you're 30. Do whatever you want, unashamed, and it will find its public.

When you're young you will try to force a certain style and a certain message in your art, and if will feel wonky and weird. But at some point, your art will get real meaning, your themes will appear by themselves. Embrace your voice and the things you want to say, because no one else can say them.

That fantastic universe you've cultivated for the last decade will never become a story/comic/videogame until you sit down and start working on it for real. No one will do it for you.

And once again, YOUR WORTH IS NOT DEFINED BY WHAT YOU PRODUCE.

Being a creative person comes with its own set of complications, and the sooner you mature in that way, the longer and healthier your creative life will be.

[pricegouge]

In Your Web

part two - masterlist

nikolai x f!reader

cw: stalking, mention of alcohol, male masturbation MDNI

By all accounts, you need a return address to ship to Latvia.

Rather, you need a return address to ensure your package doesn't get opened by customs, where agents will laugh at best, or steal your panties at worst. Maybe even steal your DNA? To what end, anyway? No! Worse than that - what if they used their connections to trace the package back even without your address and -?

One is predictably unsympathetic. 

» Then send it with one.

It doesn't surprise you that he thinks you're that dumb. 

You toy with the idea of leaving a random address in the return spot and cringe when you imagine a surly Russian man accosting some random family four states over. It's a mental image you carry with you over the next week, playing it on repeat every time you get cut off in traffic, or you find a coworker has pissed on the toilet seat without cleaning it up. Once, you even catch yourself thinking of it when a particularly annoying regular dominates your feed during a regularly scheduled live performance.

But One is not your knight in shining fiber optic cable. Neither do you actually wish to inflict him on anyone.

So you send it without a return address, watch the shipping updates closely, and feel your stomach slowly boil when it sits for five business days at an importing station. Evidently, One watches it as well.

» You did not do as I asked.

He's uninterested in your offer to refund his money - half now, half later. All you can manage.

» If I wanted my money back I would simply cancel my subscription and request a chargeback from the service.

» I want what I purchased.

Talk of chargebacks makes you flighty. There are only two things you know about One, those being that he is very wealthy, and very rude. The bane of all customer service operators. You don't think it's likely the service would honor a reimbursement for a tip issued over a week ago, but it's not something you want to risk seeing as, unlike your plan to split his reimbursement, OnlyFans would reach into your bank account with the cold unfeeling hand of a multi-million dollar company and steal it back all at once, a prospect you simply can't afford at this time, as embarrassed as you are to admit. Long ago you'd made a promise to yourself that any and all large tips received from this side gig would go immediately toward paying off debts - student loans, ill advised credit cards you'd taken out while still living off said loans. It was a decision that had done you nothing but good up until this very moment, when his money was already spent and you were staring down the barrel of having to pay him back using your own funds.

Or, barring that, he could cancel his subscription and not only get a chargeback for the remainder of his pay period (probably the year, knowing him - you'd have to check) but you'd also stand to lose your best customer. One you're not entirely sure how you managed to land in the first place and one whose income you'd likely never manage to replace. Already, One's singlehandedly paid off an entire card for you, and until now he's showed no signs of stopping.

« i'll fix it

It's a bold promise to make when you have no recourse, but one you don't see your way out of making.

» No, I will.

—

For as much as the line had made you nervous at the time, One does not make any overt moves to follow up on it that you can see. Lapses into an uncharacteristic sort of radio silence for a time. He even skips the next few liveshows, something that strikes you as very unlike him. One does not seem the type of man to let a service he's already paid for go unused. The first night it's kind of nice, seeing as he has an annoying little habit of just paying the target price within the first ten minutes because he 'doesn't have time for this' (funny, how he always has enough time to request a private cam after) but then it's three shows later and you've barely raised anything because, apparently, all your other customers are used to sitting back and reaping the benefits of One's impatience. Something you'll have to address. He stays out of your DMs, too. Offers no tips in exchange for personal requests.

You'd be lying if you said it doesn't light a fire under your ass, gets you chatting with other creators searching for ideas on how you can fix the situation. People much smarter than you say to cut your losses and just refund him. Be done with it. But mostly it just leaves you with a large level of concern. You know these people aren't dumb, but you can't imagine the level of trust they've placed in some of their own favorite customers. Maybe it's because they're lucky enough to have attracted nice people, or at least people with enough social aptitude to know how to pretend to be nice. Something to be said for One, he's never once let you forget he's not the sort of man you should trust with your personal information.

Finally, inspiration strikes in the form of another stupid suggestion, one creator admitting they've put their work address in the return slot. They do not comment on whether or not they used their legal name, but given their stage name contains the word anal, you have to assume.

No desire to let One know where you work, or even the town you're from, you begin to think about other nameless faceless organizations you can use as a fall back instead, finally settling on a random Walmart two states over. You use your stage name and post it, sending One the new tracking number along with a free vid of you getting the replacement pair all messy in hopes that he returns immediately to his normal spending.

Of course, he doesn't so much as thank you. When another two pass with no contact, you begin to grow concerned. You triple check your account to make sure he hasn't unsubbed, but he's still right there at the top - even with no tips given in over a week.

He's disappeared for a few days in the past, but this is different. You think. Or maybe it's not. You wouldn't know seeing as you don't know him. Seeing as he's never given an excuse for his absences. Not that you'd ever asked… It's normal to be worried for someone you talk with nearly every day, right? You don't know him, sure, but you'd be a bit worried if your favorite barista from the shop you frequent just up and left one day. And your income doesn't even depend on her.

Perhaps that's why you break character when he finally resurfaces, the joy on your face when you see his handle pop into chat the next night genuine. Your giddiness is infectious, even. At least one other regular bothering to welcome him back when you stop your stream dead just to say hi. Foam falls around you, slips over your bare skin down to the tarp laid over the floor where already a good foot of it has accumulated like a blanket of snow. It was an idea you'd been quite proud of, always a fan of a simple dance party. The foam machine was a small expense given the high engagement you've received so far, your subscribers happy enough to watch you shake your ass while covered in soap bubbles and glow sticks. The machine had already paid for itself, but now that One was back, you couldn't help the building hope that you'd even meet your goal for the night, which could make for a pleasant weekend full of meeting friends for drinks.

"Glad to see you're alive. Was getting a little worried about you," you grin, settling back into your roll easily. You pinch your tits between your arms as you mime snapping on a pair of gloves. "Got thinking maybe it was time for a visit from your favorite nurse."

But One is not feeling very playful tonight, if he ever is.

» Check your phone.

You huff and kick some foam at the camera obnoxiously, pleased when it falls short and hits the TV it's mounted on top of instead. You don't need to kill the mood even further by stopping to clean your lens. You eye it now, pretend you're staring up at him defiantly when you refuse, tell him you're in the middle of something with one hand snaking down your belly. On the TV below, large enough you can read even from the middle of the floor, you watch the feed as they would see it: yourself on the left while the chat bubbles in excitement on the right, egging you on. You nod at them, a silent promise, check to make sure your position looks good and that you've got a smattering of foam on you, at least enough to keep some mystery for them to unravel as the show continues -

» Now.

Irritation doesn't sell well, but sometimes you can package it as chastisement. "Play nice," you caution, voice whistling through clenched teeth. It's not One's thing specifically, but there are other regulars who you know will eat it up. "Gotta learn to share."

But One goes above and beyond simply not liking being nagged at.

He waits until your fingers are just barely tracing your thatch of curls, movement from your laptop screen catching your eye. You drop pretenses entirely when a new window opens, your private chat with One maximized so you cannot possibly miss it. Carving a path through the accumulated foam, you slink out of the field of view of the mounted camera, show long forgotten as you approach your laptop, mounting fear confirmed as you watch your mouse move across the screen of it's own accord to hit play on the video he'd evidently sent you while you were otherwise occupied.

You know what it will be based on the thumbnail, but it shocks you anyway. The panties he holds look like nothing more than candy floss in his thick fist, wrapped around a fat cock so tightly the lace is stretched. Distorted. It's weird, the things you notice when adrenaline bends time. The camera work isn't great, doesn't let you see his the root of his cock or even his belly. Its focus shifts a few times, undecided if it wants to settle on the display before it or the dark hardwood below. He wears a watch, a simple leather band nestled in a pelt of dark hair. His knuckles are dusted too, hiding the glint of a thick gold band on his pinky. Uncut, thick. He grunts the next time his foreskin pulls back enough to reveal his glistening head and your breath stutters with his when the lace catches, synthetic fibers relaxing back into a recognizable pattern as he eases them off, untangles it from his grasp to flatten against the table, flimsy gusset laughably small framed between the thumb and forefinger of his free hand.

His native tongue spills from him like his seed, molten and thick. Language, even if you can't understand it, is enough to tug at you and you yelp, your brief moment of shock fracturing enough to compel you into movement.

Nik likes the way the suds paint her, the rainbow foam a nice contrast with her skin. It slides down the valleys of her body naturally, highlighting recesses he'd previously been unaware of. Pesky self consciousness, always framing herself so carefully to hide away the bits she think he won't like. They won't like, he supposes.

He's never minded sharing. Nature of the beast, paying for it. But he doesn't see why he should have to suffer the same experience as these others, not when he gives so much more.

It was one of the first issues that had lead him to this little perversion, the impersonal uniformity. The self-editing. He pays to see her body, not the careful curation of videos and stills which she deems tasteful enough. So he settles in behind the wrong camera most nights, his field of view lower. Off center. Only watches the proper stream - the one he actually pays for - when she looks dead at the camera to talk to him, ring light glowing eerily in her irises.

Close enough, for now.

He's logged into a burner account while he works himself up, watching as she bounces around her room to an obnoxious beat. Her audio mixing is off tonight, the club music she plays just a hair too loud. He likes to watch from alternate accounts sometimes, likes to see how well she fights her dismay when these other viewers struggle to collectively pay her bills. She's more likely to grant him special requests the longer he waits to show up, he's learned. Off the menu orders, she calls them. Cute, but not what he's looking for tonight.

Her thong hangs from the corner of his screen. He hates to have already ruined it, but consoles himself with the knowledge she'd been sweet enough to send him another pair. They won't smell as good, he's sure. Another censure she'll have placed on herself. None of the sweat from having been worn all day. But she tried. Wanted to please him. Desperate thing.

It's laughable, thinking Latvian customs would be able to stop him from acquiring what's his, but it's not like she would know that. It's why he prefers small, no-name performers like her. So unsuspecting. Passably genuine, smile growing on her face when he switches to his regular account, the one she has memorized. It makes his cock twitch, excitement growing when she showers him in attention, singles him out in the middle of her show. Forgets to keep dancing, even. As she should. He wonders if he paid for her new toy, the noisy machine currently leaving soap scum on her walls. Wonders if she'll let him pay for it again or if she'll have him summarily blocked within minutes. It won't matter, of course, but he's excited to see how she'll unfold. Another off-menu order. One more bridge too far.

What she gets, taking so much of his money yet never offering more. He just wants to see sides of her no one else has.

It's hard to control himself when she starts to get catty, shows her teeth. He'd imagined stretching this moment out a bit more, thoroughly ruining the mood for all other viewers. But when she looks right at her camera and tells him to behave, his breath goes ragged, and he has to let go of his cock to show the little bitch better - taking over her laptop to bring up the video he'd sent, a low grumble building in his chest like a warning when she slinks closer, as if proximity will give her a better understanding.

Three monitors, one for every angle of his omniscience. On the right, the chat in her official feed grows annoyed as she walks out of frame, a few of them even accusing him of foul play. Hero-types. He's going to enjoy watching them try to comfort her if she doesn't delete her account entirely after tonight - after he mouses over the video displayed on his middle screen, the mirror of her own laptop. On his left, she looms closer, expression open and honest in a way he's not seen it yet. Painted in the blue light of her monitor, it contrasts garishly with the heavy makeup she'd applied for the show, all warm-toned to match her pink neons; catches on the tiny pockets of popped soap bubbles which fleck over her cheek. It's not a good look, one she'd likely touch up before even taking a selfie for her Instagram account, a post-show teaser meant to make potential viewers feel like they'd missed out. And now that he's seen it, he knows how much he's been missing out, fist working over his cock with renewed vigor as he imagines all the ways he wants to see her now, all the ways he can, even if -

He fights the cursor when she tries to take control, but she's clever enough to know some keyboard commands. His right monitor blinks back to her profile when she cuts the feed, the middle one slowly returning to her home screen as she closes out of each window. She pulls away quickly after, palms clamped over her jaw as she breathes through the panic, soft belly caving with each pant. Foam still spews from the machine, dye having run out. It catches in her hair, paints her skin milky. He has half a mind to open a word doc on her computer, tell her she should skip the dye next time, the white more suggestive.

Doesn't get a chance. Cums when she scrambles back to the desk, his left monitor dropping the feed when she smartens up and rips the battery out of her laptop.

Left languid and lazy, he tracks her movements across her socials from his bed, thumbing through his phone. Detached, he watches her accounts blink out one after the other. A small city going dark under the approach of his hele. She deletes some outright, settles for blocking him on others. Even issues an apology to her viewers from a site she doesn't know he even has an account on. It's vague, boring. Doesn't mention him. He gets an email around midnight, her time, telling him to expect a refund for the remaining term of his payment, but is pleased to find her account still in place when he checks from a burner. The save of her live show is taken down shortly after, but he's not worried. Had it saved locally.

Can't rely on strangers from the Internet to behave, after all

[trendywaifus]

↳ dramatic irony

an: this is pretty long so buckle up. i hope the pacing is okay too. if you have questions or thoughts about this, feel free to lmk and ill be happy to answer it for you. sorry it took a bit to post, i was trying to tweak stuff (still am so bear with me). i’m surprised i made the smut part pretty tame too.

records: spider devil, real name: unknown — spider–woman from planet “new babylon–18��, a dystopian planet that’s currently being overrun by devils who were once humans. for one to be become a devil is unknown.

featuring, spider–woman! kafka x spider–woman! reader

cw: strap use, cursing, teasing, penetration, petnames, praising, porn with plot, slight brat taming, spanking

NEUVA YORK

EARTH -928

“ are you seriously stopping to smoke in the lobby while miguel is waiting for us? you could of done this outside!” you coughed, lazily waving the thin clouds of smoke away from your face. your fellow spider colleague, who’s tall frame was resting against the pillar, blew out another small puff of smoke from her pink glossy lips. it amazed you that she gladly took the trouble of pulling up her mask just enough to smoke a cigarette—in a lobby full of different spider people with sensitive noses.

on cue, a series of coughs and complaints about the smoke erupts.

“ knock it off lady, this suit isn’t smoke–proof! “

“ smoking causes cancer, y’know! “

“ smoking is not allowed! this is a spidey smoke—free society! . . .is it? “

“ you need to leave! “

“ alright, alright. i’m done, people. “ she sneers, throwing the cigarette butt in a trash nearby. the spider–women casts you a little smile before pulling her mask back down. “ let’s go darling, i’m ready.” she saunters towards the exit of the lobby with you following behind. she stops at the doorway before looking over her shoulder. “ and for the itsy bitsy spider who sounded confused about this being a “ spidey smoke free society ” the lobby goes quiet. “ . . .it’s not. i don’t see a sign that says it is so i’ll do what i want~”

a loud ooh burn echoes through the wide space as you two walked out.

“ i guess you could say, she smoked them! hahaaa,”one of the spiders laughed then stopped awkwardly when they noticed nobody was humoring them. “ ok, i’ll just go swing around and rethink my life now. “

“ i can’t believe you did that. “ you grumbled, walking along one of the steel pillars, careful to not bump into the other spider members passing by. she laughs huskily, lightly nudging you with her elbow. “ oh come on, doll. technically i’m right. also, i’ll admit that the lobby wasn’t an ideal spot to smoke but i was a lil’ bored and wanted to see their reactions. “ you sighed exasperatedly. you know her enough now to find her reason to be typical. she’s a flirty yet calm, mysterious character who enjoys playing around and watching people squirm for her own entertainment.

it reminds you of a certain women you once knew. if it wasn’t for the little extra rasp in her voice and contrasting mannerisms you would of said it was her in disguise. because spider society and multiverse theory actually exists, you’re starting to think the spider–woman beside you was simply an alternate version of her. you cringed at the thought. hopefully not. you want to avoid old memories. you haven’t seen her without her mask and she hasn’t told you her name (more like she’s been avoiding it!). it could be any woman behind that mask.

yeah, she’s innocent until proven guilty.

after several long minutes of walking through open areas and closed spaces, the dark, ominous setting grows familiar. “ aaand, we’re here. “ she mumbles, crossing her arms with amusement as she sees miguel’s large silhouette standing on the small platform above with his back towards you and her, peering at various holograms.

“ you’re late. “ miguel grunts irritably, turning around to face the two of you. “ forgive us, mr. huncho man. i had to smoke. ‘can’t go on a mission without a smoke.” she admits bluntly, turning her head to wink at you and you roll your eyes. he sighs with annoyance and pinches the bridge of his nose. “ ¿por qué elegí a estas personas? creo que podría perderlo. . “ he mumbles under his breath.

“ english please, mr. huncho~ unless you can speak chinese. “

miguel grunts again, waving her off, “ enough, i’m going to talk about the mission now. “ he returns his attention back to his holographic computers and begrudgingly pulls up multiple holographic images of a huge, otherworldly tree that had vast amount of long, lanky branches. “ this phenomenon is called the imaginary tree that sits right outside of the multiverse. it’s something we discovered because of the spot’s wild dimensional rifts. one of our most important equipment was caught in one of the rifts during our recent emergency mission.—“

you him cut off, tapping your left foot, agitated,“ so let me guess, you want us to somehow go to that big ass tree that sits right outside of multiverse to find a singular equipment of ours that happen to be important? do we even have the technology to go outside—“

“ por dios, can i please finish? please? “ he growls, slamming his palm against the keyboard. “ sure, mr. i have anger issues for life.” you huffed, earning a chuckle from your partner.

“ i heard that! ugh, anyways, we learned that the leaves on those branches holds some sort of universe to them. our equipment is in one of these universes and after some time, we were able to trace and pinpoint which one it’s currently in.” miguel types for a few moments before another set of photos appears on the holographic screen. the first two pictures showed a sea of stars, planets, and stars painted on a specific leaf, and then the last two showed a planet that looked similar to earth. “ it’s on this unknown planet. — “

“ alright so what does this missing equipment look like?— “

“ i was getting to that, cállate! “

miguel smoothes his hand over his face before he resumes typing. after a few moments, two more photos of an orange cube that looked hilariously similar to a rubix cube flashes on the screen. “ pfft. . .” you stifled back your laughter as you stared at the orange, shitty looking cube. is that one of our most important equipment that was lost in some unknown universe and planet? a fucking shitty version of a rubix cube? “ why are you laughing? what’s so funny? “ miguel asks grumpily, already awfully annoyed at your disruptive behavior.

“ who made the design of that? “ you burst out laughing, hunching over as you held your stomach. “miguel, you really wanna make us get a damn rubix cube! do we have to solve the puzzle to activate it?–“

“ that’s enough! just get the damn thing! here, take these! “ he throws you two a pair of watches similar to the gizmo. you swiftly caught it and analyzed the exterior design. “ put that on your other wrist. this is for you to specifically travel outside of the multiverse to that universe. it’ll also help you locate the lost equipment and since those devices are only the beta versions, i urge you to finish the mission as quickly as possible. if you’re in trouble, i will personally come as back up. any questions? “

you raise your hand up, miguel sighs,

“ yes, you. what is your question? “

“ it’s not a question but—“

“ no, don’t even finish it, just go. “

you pouted and walked away. the taller woman giggles, sending miguel a lazy wave, “ see you soon, mr.huncho~ “

“ yeah, yeah, adios. remember what i said! “

UNIVERSE—???????

PLANET ??????

TIME: ?????

“ this earth looks beyond better than my earth! ” you said jokingly, gracefully jumping onto one of the highest buildings in a random area. the city’s architecture was beautiful and futuristic. no brick or wooden structures, the exteriors seem to be made up of some sort of metal. digital billboards were everywhere, causing the lights to contrast harshly with the night sky. do they ever get tired of ads constantly in their face everywhere they look?

“ i get you darling, if we weren’t on an important mission, i’d explore as i please. this planet is better than mine just from looks alone. it’s practically a hellhole there. “ she chuckles, her heels clinking against the metal surface as she walks towards the edge. you take off your mask to feel the wind brush through your hair. you breathe in, the air even smells fresh and clean. “ i don’t think you’ve ever told me about your home planet. you said you were from new babylon. .19? “

“ 18. “ she corrects you softly, voice barely under a whisper as she stares at you for a few moments. noticing the change in her voice and the staring from the corner of your eye, you cast her a side glance. thanks to her mask, you can’t tell the expression she has on right now. “ you okay? are you staring at me? is there something on my face?“

she leisurely walks over to you and gently lifts your chin up, making you look up at her. “ darling, did i ever tell that you have such pretty eyes? “ the tangible softness and smile in her voice made your stomach flutter. did she? she did compliment you a handful of times during your last three missions with her but you don’t recall her ever saying that. “ um, yes? no? i don’t think you’ve ever told me that surprisingly. .” you replied shyly, averting your gaze somewhere else, embarrassed by her white slits fixated on you. chuckling, she retracts her hand away and brushes past you. “ now you know. “

“ y-you’re so weird, you know that? and you still have to tell me more about your home planet! “ you yelled, hurriedly slipping your mask back on to follow her. “ i know and yes, i’ll tell you more after we’re done. right now, we have to go find and retrieve our missing cube. take a look at the device he gave us and find the radar. “

you did so, observing the unnecessarily confusing button layout. “ i don’t think that man ever told us how to properly work this thing. “ you muttered, messing around with the buttons until you luckily got to the radar screen. “ got it! “

“ good girl. now, according to the radar, our objective isn’t too far from here which makes our job easier. follow me and try to keep up, will you? “ she teases, gracefully jumping off the building and web swings away. you sighed, copying her actions and followed her not too far behind. as you swing through the bustling streets of the city and occasionally glancing at the billboard ads, there was one particular one that caught your eye. your heart drops at the sight, you nearly lost your momentum.

it was a wanted poster of a beautiful purple—haired woman who wore a low messy ponytail. she had sunglasses resting above her pupil-less eyes. “ black–spider. .” you mumbled bitterly. what bother you the most was not her identical features but her smile. that eerily familiar smile of hers made you rip your attention away from the billboard and continue following your partner ahead of you. so even in this universe, she’s. . .

“ you okay back there, doll? you’re awfully quiet.” her concerned voice comes through the intercom of your gizmo. it took you a moment to respond. “ yeah, i am. there’s so many ads, i-i kind of got a little lightheaded from trying to look at them all! “ you laughed nervously, she merely hums, not really buying your excuse but decides to brush it off.

“ we’re here by the way. it seems to be located in that museum over there. “

there was a large museum at the end of a deserted street near a semi–active highway. “ a museum? why would something like that be in a museum? “ you mused, landing ontop of the roof with the older woman. “ it seems like someone had an interesting eye of treasure. wait. .look, over there. “ she points over towards the entrance where two guards were laid out unconscious.

“ no way, that means. .”

“ mhm, we’re not the only ones looking to take something from here. be on high alert. for now let’s split up, “ she unclamps her weapon strap and pulls out her m-10, “ make sure to stay hidden until you can locate the cube. “ you squinted at her weapon. “ you want me to stay hidden but you’re going to use your gun for a stealth mission—“

she pulls out a silencer from her pouch and winks at you before firmly twisting it on the barrel. “ so what were you saying, darling? “

“ never mind, i’ll go find a vent now. “

you two swiftly departed and after ten minutes of searching, you managed to find a closed vent on the right side of the museum. “ thank god. “ you used one of your clawed fingers to tinker with the screws until you got them all loosened. after cautiously setting the metal screen to the side, you crawl inside with ease. as you moved further down the vent, you hear muffled sounds of voices; one sounded like a man and the other, a younger girl.

“ hey. “ your partner’s voice abruptly comes through the gizmo. “ yeah what is it? so far, i’m hearing two people. one a male and the other, a—“

“ i know i saw. but there’s actually three. the third one,” her voice turns strangely serious, “ which is a woman, departed from those two earlier. that little girl had told her the location of the cube we’re after. i’ll deal with those two to distract them. the cube is somewhere near the right side where you are, it’s in one of the rooms. i’m going to assume you’re still in the vents so do your best to quickly find the right room before she does. use the radar to guide you with diligence. avoid her at all costs, only interact with her when you absolutely need to. why i’m stressing this to you? it’s because i have a hunch that woman has similar abilities like i do. once i take care of those two, i’ll come straight to help you. do you get me? “

“ yes, i do. i’ll do my best. “ you say, nibbling on your bottom lip as anxiety pours into your veins.

“ good. i know everything sounds pretty worrisome right now but i promise it’s going to be okay. be careful, darling. “

the intercom blinks out leaving you alone to your thoughts. you inhale and exhale a few times to recompose yourself before continuing to crawl through the narrow space. “ to think about it now, that was the first time i ever heard her sound so. .serious. “ you muttered, glancing down at your watch to keep track of the radar. despite that woman being the way she is, you noticed how little she seemed to care about herself. she’d be quick to throw herself into line of danger for the hell of it. it was as if she did not have a lick of fear of death. but overtime, as you two completed missions together, she became a little more cautious and suspiciously protective towards you.

“ i really do want to know more about you and i will.” you vowed, stopping at a particular vent and peeked through the screen. “ that’s it! “ you cheered, observing the orange cube that was placed in a protective glass at the middle of the wide, spacey room. you slide the screen to the side and before you can jump down, the sound of a door creeps open and heels clanking against the tile floor bounces off the walls. “ oh shit, she’s. . .here. . .” you trail off in shock as the familiar woman you seen from the wanted poster approaches the display.

“ there it is. “ the magenta–haired woman drawls, her voice strikes a strong sense of deja vu in you. “ so my suspicions were right. .” your heart skip a beat as you watch the woman carefully take the protective glass off the display and sets it down on the floor. she grasps the cube in her gloved hand and analyzes it with a soft hum. “ elio wanted me to get this? how boring. “ with a heavy heart, you slowly crawled out of the vent while still remain attached to the ceiling. “ if i can get it with my web—“

from the shiny reflection of the cube, the woman catches a glimpse of you on the ceiling, and chuckles lowly. “ i can see you up there, little spider~ “ she swiftly pulls out a similar weapon like your partners and shoots at you. thanks to your spider senses, you were able to dodge swiftly and land down on to the floor. “ we can talk about this! there’s no need for the unnecessary violence!” you shouted, running around and dodging as she continues to rain bullets at you.

“ why not? i’m just simply following a script~ and you better be careful little spider, you don’t want to run into another spider’s web. “

“ excuse me, what—nngh! “

just like that, your body is restrained by thin, purple threads. where did they even come from? you tried your best to struggle but the more you did, the more tighter the threads became. “ don’t struggle now, it’ll only get more painful for you. “ she taunts, slowly approaching you, one hand holding the cube while the other was slightly clenched, purple threads emerging from her gloved fingers. how did she do that so fast? wasn’t she just shooting at you just a few moments ago?

“ i swear we can talk about this, um. .um, “

“ kafka, the name’s kafka. “ kafka smiles at you, now in front of your restrained body. “ so that’s your real name(s). . “ you said without thinking, sounding baffled and hurt. kafka raises a brow, her smile not faltering. “ i don’t know what you mean by that but yes it is. anyways, little spider, you wanted this right?“ she gestures towards the cube in her hand.

“ y-yes, kafka. that’s what i came here for. it’s technically ours so i’m basically here to get it back.”

“ ours? i see. sure, you can have it back but on one condition, dear.”

“ and what’s the condition? “

kafka’s smile turns into a smirk. “ i want to see your face. “

looking at her with wide eyes, you spat, “ see my face? what does that even accomplish for you? “ she doesn’t react to your aggression and sighs. “ look, we don’t have much time. do you agree to the condition or not? “

“ f-fine, fine. just do it already. “ where is that woman when you need her?

kafka reaches her hand out and carefully peels the mask off your head. her face twists into shock, red lips forming into a small o. why did she look so shocked to see your face? “ well? “ you raised a brow. her eyes softens and you felt the threads slightly loosen up around your body. “ I knew i recognized that voice from somewhere. elios never told me you’d be the one i’d unmask. this is a surprise for me.”

growing anxious from her calculating gaze, you turned your head to the side, nibbling on your bottom lip. a distance sound of heels hurriedly approaches the room. “ it seems like we’re out of time. so one more thing, darling, “ kafka coos, firmly grabbing your jaw to force you to look back into her eyes. “ you have very pretty eyes—“

“ that’s enough. “ sense of relief rushes through you when you see your partner hold the pointed end of her submachine gun against kafka’s head. kafka calmly puts her hands in the air, letting the threads to dissipate, and allowing your aching limbs to move freely. “ keep your head forward and give me what you have in your hand and give her back her mask. “

“ yeah, yeah, i was just about done with her anyways. here and here, sweetheart. “ kafka hands her the cube from behind her back and you you’re mask. “ by the way, you sound very familiar, i wonder who you are, hm~” even when kafka has a barrel pressed against the back of her head, she still has a relaxed smile on her face.

“ oh please. you know exactly who i am. you should also know what will happen if you disobey the next set of orders i give you. i haven’t killed anything in a while so i’m trigger happy right now and if you even think about attempting your spirit whisper on us, you can say bye to breathing. “ she nearly growls, lazily throwing you the cube after you put your mask back on.

“ how scary, you really are me. fine, i’ll be obedient. oh! I want to ask this, what did you do to the other two in the lobby? did you. .persuade them? “

“ oh, you know me so well. “ the other supposed counterpart says sarcastically, “ now, I want you to walk out that door with your arms up and don’t look back. i wiped your subordinates’ memories so they’re still waiting for you in the lobby. go ahead and walk. don’t look back unless you’re ready to eat a bullet~“

kafka simply chuckles and follows the orders that was given to her. she saunters towards the doors, taking several steps before she stops. “ one last thing, i promise. since you’re me, look out for her, would ya? you know who i’m talking about. “

“ no comment. “

kafka’s shoulders shrugs as a another chuckle escapes her lips and she walks out the door. your partner sighs heavily, putting her m-10 back into her strap. “ now let’s hurry up and return back. i’ll be right behind you. i had enough of me for today. “ you quietly nodded.

NEUVA YORK

EARTH-929

“ so is kafka really your name? “ you asked softly, fiddling around with the cube in your hands, staring off towards the futuristic scenery on a sky–scraper. kafka stands beside you with her arms crossed. “ yes it is, darling. i didn’t tell you because, well, to avoid things getting complicated between us. I guess it doesn’t matter much now though. “

“ it did get complicated for me but why would it be for you?”

kafka sighs, “ just like any other spider–men and spider–women here, we lost someone precious to us which is what they call it our canon event. the person i lost whom i loved was you. “ you peer at her with wide eyes, nearly dropping the cube in your hands. “ me? i know typically a spider loses a gwen, mj, peter, or family member but, me? is that why you act so. .weird around me? “

“ what, weird? you mean me complimenting you and whatnot? darling, you may not be my (name) but it doesn’t change the fact that i find you very beautiful~ you may look similar to her but your personalities and style makes you two completely different people in my eyes. admittedly, i fell in love with you, the you standing right here beside me. the you who i have a second chance to protect. “

you stand there in silence, processing her words. the kafka standing beside you was different from the one in your universe. the one who apparently didn’t trust you enough to tell you her real name, the one who disappeared without a trace. “ it feels so weird to be told this from you, well not you.— “

“ let me guess, an alternative me in your world?“ kafka inquired, you nod your head meekly. “ yes, but she was black spider—well she called herself that but the norm here is black cat apparently. she was very hard to catch but she always knew how to attract me. there was some instances where we fought together for a common goal and through that we’ve got closer, well by closer, i mean. . “ your cheeks turn red from the sudden flashbacks rushing through your head.

kafka laughs at the shy tone of your voice, “ so it was like that, huh? lucky me. “ you rolled your eyes, pulling your mask off due to it getting embarrassingly stuffy. “ a-as i was saying, one thing led to another and something came up. “ you frowned, “ a group called pteruges-v devils, a group of wannabe devils appeared out of no where and after i took care of them with her, she. .completely disappeared without saying a word. “

she hums, “ pterugues-v devils. .even in your universe, they’re such a pain to deal with. “ you perked up, looking at her in confusion. “ you have that group in your universe too? “

kafka snorts, “ a group? they’re a literal race. well, they were once humans who turned into devils. “ okay, that’s interesting. “ how does that work? “ you asked skeptically.

“ humans who dedicate their lives to pleasure and destruction turn into devils. “ she explains simply.

“ and you fight these devils daily? “

“ yes that’s right darling. it gets pretty tedious after a while but i’m just doing what i can for my home world and to pass time. but as for the situation with that alternative me in your universe, i have no doubt in my mind that she left a letter behind for you somewhere. that’s something i would do if i had to leave with the intention of never coming back. “ you hope so. closure is nice for a change.

“ i’ll make sure to look around for a letter when i return back to my universe, kafka. thank you. “ albeit you can’t see her, kafka smiles behind her mask and pats your head, your chest tightens with warmth. abruptly, you gently pushed away her hand, causing the taller woman to emit out a confused hum. “ by the way, i haven’t seen your face yet. i mean, i technically did but i wanna see you. “

after a moment of silence, kafka merely shrugs. “ of course, doll. “ she slowly takes off her mask and almost immediately, light purple tresses flows down her shoulders and stops just above her breasts. she managed to fit all that hair under her mask, what was her secret? her face was fairly the same much like the two kafkas. the only difference between her and them was her hair being a lighter purple and her eyes were purple and pink with black slits as pupils. nonetheless, she was still stunning. “ and you say i’m the beautiful one. “ you snorted. without thinking, you reached out to touch her cheek. chuckling, kafka nuzzles against your palm, her lips stretches into a grin, showing off her fangs.

“ fangs. .that’s. . .actually hot. “ you mumbled, (e/c) eyes subconsciously flickering towards her eyes and parted lips. she gets the message and curls a strong arm around your frame, pulling you closer to her. “ mm, i’m flattered. “ she smirks, leaning down to kiss your nose, cheeks, and finally your lips. her lips were slightly chapped but felt perfect against yours—they always did.

“ you think miguel knows we‘re back? “ you asked between kisses. kafka hums, “ mhm, maybe. “ she kisses the side of your mouth and down your jaw, your breath hitches. “ do you want to stop and report back to him, babydoll? “ god, you’re starting to feel things when kafka calls you petnames like that. “ unfortunately yes, and actually after that, do you want to. .have a glass of wine with me at my place? or my universe? “

she pulls herself away, purple eyes twinkling with anticipation. “ i prefer vodka but sure. “ your nose crunched up in disgust, “ ew, vodka? yeah, i did not expect that from you but then again, you are pretty crazy. i guess that runs in the dna. “

kafka rolls her eyes with a smirk, “ runs in the dna? ironic coming from you, darling. but you know what?”

“ what? “

she tilts her head, leans close to your ear, and purrs, “ but you love it. “

you groan, lightly smacking her shoulder before pulling yourself away from her. you turned around to hide the flustered look on your face, missing kafka’s warm smile. “ l-let’s go report back to miguel, i can already hear him cursing at us in spanish with a constipated look on his face. “ you stretch for a bit and slip your mask on. “ then after that, we can relax at my place. make sure to not get lost behind me, yeah? ” just like that, you dived off the sky scraper, free falling. kafka chuckles, watching as you casually twist your body around and give her a cute little wave.

“ i can’t wait for the others to find out more about you for themselves. but for now, i get to have you all to myself~ “ with a snap of her fingers, her mask that she had hand in her hand, disappears and reappears back on her head, masking her. she dives off the edge, intending to catch up to your figure falling down ways below her.

|—|

“ we’re back, mr huncho~ “ kafka announced, walking into his little lair with you side by side. miguel parted his mouth to lecture you two about being late again until you held up the cube for him; his mouth closes and he simply sighs. “ good work, you two. how was the mission? did the device i give you cause any hinderance? “ he asks, taking the cube from your hand with one of his red spiderwebs.

“ not at all! it worked pretty well for us, miguel. thanks for lending it to us! it helped a lot! “

“ you’re welcome~” lyla reveals herself in front of you, booping your nose with a holographic finger. “ lyla, i missed you! where were you when miguel was cursing at me in spanish! “ you pouted.

“ okay, no i did not—“ lyla gasps at him and miguel loudly grunts, teleporting in front of him with her arms crossed. “ while i was away giving a tour guide to one of our newest members, you were giving one of my favorites a hard time? how dare you! “

annoyed, miguel skims a hand over his face and waves her off. “ we’re not doing this right now—you two, give me back the beta devices so you can go. “

“ yeah ladies, so i can annoy deal with him! “

“ oh dios mio, que alguien me mate ahora. “

NEW YORK, UPSTATE MANHATTAN

EARTH—2024

TIME: 11:50 PM

“ not the reaction i was expecting for but did you see his reaction when lyla got in his face? he was so over it! “ you laughed, sliding one of your half open window up so you can enter inside, kafka follows behind. “ mhm, that man is certified sassy. i’m almost jealous. “ she crosses her arms, looking around what she assumes to be your living room. two small, black settee sofa and a small brown wooden coffee table at the middle with record player on it. not bad.

“ i’m going to go get the wine from a small wine cabinet i have in the kitchen and i’ll see if i can find the vodka. i think i have an untouched bottle my friend gifted to me. “ you said, taking off your mask and tossed it on the kitchen counter as you entered into the kitchen. “ wine cabinet? i didn’t know you had it like that, doll. “ kafka joked, sitting down on the sofa and props her leg over the other. she takes off her mask and sets it aside her. gloved fingers runs through her purple hair to push back the hair away from her eyes.

“ well, my friend’s friend, who’s a researcher, gave it to me as a gift for contributing to their research. I promise i’m not rich like you think i am. i was just very lucky and was only able to get a job because of my ex—ugh, it’s hard to explain and it gets kinda complicated. “ you sighed, opening the wine cabinet to grab a bottle of wine and luckily a bottle of vodka after searching for a bit. “ don’t worry, i’m all ears darling, you can explain it to me while we sit and drink. “

you grabbed two glasses and poured the drinks. “ no, no, i’m being serious kafka. i’ll try to summarize it. “ careful not to spill the drinks, you slowly walked back into the living room and handed her her drink and plopped down next to her. “ alright, talk to me. “ she drawls with amusement, bringing the glass of vodka to her lips. “ so, i met my ex back in high school who at the time, was my friend. her name was himeko. “ kafka abruptly coughs, nearly choking on her drink. you throw her a concerned look. “ what? are you okay—“

“ no, no, darling. it just went down the wrong hole, that’s all. “ she clears her throat, sending you a shaky, tight–lipped smile. you merely blinked at her. “ okay? anyways, through her, i met her former girlfriend, topaz and i became long–term friends with them until college. topaz’s step–father, adventerine, was the ceo of a popular bank called bust. he had connections because of his status and one of his connections was to a ambitious research company that he was funding. the same company where topaz’s friend, asta, is a lead researcher at. “

you stopped to take a long sip of your wine, the bitter yet addictive taste of wine flows down your throat. kafka hums, lazily swirling the drink in her palm. “ what is this research company about? “

“ it’s called astral wonders, it’s a multi–layered research company. one section of researchers focuses on aerospace, second section, aeronautics, third, computer science, and the last one, biology. i was a part–time researcher in the biology unit where i met my. .former mentor at. “ kafka raises a brow at the sad tone of your voice. something definitely had happen between you and former mentor.

“ anyways yeah, after topaz and himeko broke up during college, me and himeko got close. we ended up getting together after college and dated for three years. the first year of us dating, i graduated with a biology degree and wanted a job fast. during that time, me and topaz wasn’t really on good terms so himeko managed to convince her to land me a spot at the research company and the rest was history. .with a few twist and turns. but, that’s a story for another time. “

“ can’t wait to hear that one, doll. i’m sure you’ve been through a lot while maintaining your spidey identity. i can see in your eyes that have strong sense of who you are. “ kafka smiles, taking one last sip of her vodka and places it on the coffee table. “ what’s with you and my eyes? “ you inquired, taking a sip of the wine. you were starting to feel tipsy. kafka lets out a low chuckle, she reaches her hand out to touch your thigh, causing you to freeze up.

“ come closer and i’ll tell you, i promise i won’t bite~” kafka purrs in a raspy, seductive voice. your body grows hot when her gaze looks you up and down with roguish intent. she beckons you closer with a finger and you lean your body towards her without hesitation. “ i’d be mad if you didn’t,“ you mumbled, taking it upon yourself to close the distance until your lips are brushing against hers. “ now tell me why you like my eyes. “

you swear her pupils dilated when you said that. “ they say that the eyes are a window to a person’s soul, “ she started, snaking her hand under your knee and propped your leg over her lap. you place a hand on her shoulder, ready to pounce on her lap. “ and to put it simply, those (color) eyes of yours hold so much transparency to them that i can almost see what you’re feeling, yet when i try to pry deeper, i simply see a reflection of myself. your soul is rightfully guarded and that’s what i like. “

“ how poetic, kafka. “ you whispered, holding back a soft groan as her lips trail down your jaw. kafka giggles, kissing at your heated skin. “ on my lap, darling. “ she says, tapping your knee. you quickly shifted on her lap, straddling her. her dark purple, gloved hands hooks themselves on your hips. your lips fully presses against hers and thread your fingers in her purple hair. you were quick to deepen the kiss, tilting your head. kafka’s tongue skims along your bottom lip, you open your mouth just enough for her to slip inside. the strong taste of vodka fills your tastebuds as her tongue swirls with yours, eliciting a moan from your throat. you’re starting to feel even more intoxicated.

“ ‘want you. “ you breathed, after breaking the kiss too soon for kafka’s liking. her hands explores up your sides then back down until she stops at your thighs and squeezes them through your spandex tights. “ oh, i know, babydoll. “ she stands up, easily lifting you up with her and instinctively, you wrap your legs around her waist. “ where’s your bedroom? or do you want to continue here? ‘doesn’t matter to me~ “

“ my bedroom is just around the corner through the main open doorway. “ you whispered, burying your face into the crook of her neck. she follows your directions and a minute later, your back hits the sweet surface of your mattress. “ doesn’t it feel illegal that we’re gonna have sex and we’re not even from the same universe? “ you asked between kisses, kafka draws out a long hum before simply saying,

“ there’s no rule saying we can’t so i don’t see any wrong in having some fun. “ she helps you undress out of your suit and you try to do the same for her but she stops you. you give her a puzzled look. “ no need, darling. this suit is tech. “

“ what? “ you watch in awe as her suit loses form, leaving glitchy led screens in its wake similar to miguel’s suit. “ how did you get your hands on that?”

“ it’s a secret~ “ she replies smugly, enjoying the appalled expression on your flushed face as your eyes scanned her now naked body. you clicked your tongue, you really need to stop being attracted to crazy women. her hand dips down your stomach and plays with your clit. a soft moan erupts from your throat. “ fuck. .”

kafka buries her face into the crook of your neck and drags her lips downward, sharp fangs gently grazing your skin. a shiver runs down your spine. “ usually i’ll be back home after a mission and relax with a glass of vodka but i’m pleased i get the chance of spending my night fucking you, doll. “ she pulls away to hold intimate eye contact with you, her lustful gaze made your heart wanna explode.

“ sh-shut up and get the strap before you drive me crazy. there’s a black box just under the bed where i have it inside.“

“ anything for you, sweets. “ kafka purrs, removing herself off of you and gets on her knees to search under the bed. she finds the box with ease and pulls it out with the help of her spider web. she examines the box and takes off the lid. “ mm, interesting. “ the plastic cock was thick and about six inches, and the design was black with purple webs engraved on it, nearly identical to her own suit. kafka already knew where this was from and she couldn’t help but feel a sliver of something—something she hasn’t felt for a long time; jealousy. “ at least she has taste. “ kafka scoffs, standing upright to put on the harness.

“ did she ever use this on you? “ she asks strangely, brows slightly furrowed with a little frown on her face. “ no, she never got to use it and neither did i. “ kafka’s face visibly lights up, her lips stretches into a dark grin, inducing an odd sense of excitement in you. “ good.“ she positions herself between your legs as they hanged off the foot of the bed. “ i hope she doesn’t mind me seizing the opportunity to fuck you with her—well, technically my cock, hm? “ the fat plastic tip broadly strokes your folds, causing you to groan.

kafka holds your hips in place, watching you squirm with a sly expression on her face as she teases your pussy in broad, languid strokes. “ mmph, stop teasing me, kafka, “ you moaned, attempting to lift your hips off the mattress for more friction, she holds you back down. “ no can do, babydoll. “ she croons, running the mushroom tip down to your entrance and slowly slips inside then immediately back out. you grit your teeth, agitated.

“ oh my fucking god, i said—ouch! “ you gasp loudly as she smacks your ass. the stinger lingers while she props one of your legs on her shoulder. “ watch that mouth of yours. be nice and i’ll consider giving you want you want. “ kafka rasps, and goes back to her previous actions, shallowly thrusting into your cunt with no intentions of going deeper. waves of pleasure washes over you agonizingly slow, making you increasingly frustrated. you bite the inside of your cheek, holding back a snarky remark.

“ please kafka, i need it—you, please. m’sorry for cursing at you, i didn’t mean it. “ you whimpered, cutely jutting your bottom lip. kafka peers down at you, observing your face for any signs of deceit. her eyes softens ever so slightly when she sees the raw desperation in your eyes. “ atta girl. it wasn’t so hard now was it? “ her hips thrusts forward, pushing the rest of her inches inside of your drooling hole.

a throaty moan escapes your lips as her thick length fills you up. kafka delves down until she’s face to face with you, pushing your bent leg against your shoulder, rocking her hips back and forth. “ be as loud as you want, i wanna hear your pretty voice, baby. “ she whispers softly, peppering your face with kisses. you held onto her for dear life as her cock splits you open, deliciously hitting against your sweet spots.

“ fuck, it feels s’good! “ you whined, closing your eyes in pleasure as kafka speeds up her pace. she squishes your cheeks with her fingers, making you adorably pout. kafka tsks, “ open those pretty eyes, let me see em’ again.” you tentatively open yours eyes and looked straight at her. “ good girl~ “ she kisses your pouty lips, continuing to fuck her length into your sopping pussy.

tears fills your hazy (e/c) eyes. “ is my baby crying? “ she asks teasingly, slamming her hips into your ass and then grinds. “ can’t help it. .” you mutter back, tears running down your squished cheeks. kafka was quick to lick them up, relishing the salty taste. “ don’t worry, you look even more adorable when you cry. “ she coos, releasing your face to give your reddened ass cheek a little smack. this time, you moaned, gummy walls fluttering around her.

“ ‘think i might cum. .! “ you babbled, holding on to the older woman’s body for dear life, digging your nails into her back. “ you think or you know, darling? “ she groans, fucking you nice and slow, each drag of her cock has you writhing in pleasure and you’re on the verge of seeing stars.

“ i know, i know—!“ you let out a strangled moaned, legs trembling as you cummed on her strap. kafka brings you into a sloppy kiss, sucking and nibbling on your swollen bottom lip, careful to not draw blood. she slowly rocks into you, whispering sweet promises against your lips as you rode your high. “ you did so well for me, darling. “ kafka gently slides your leg off her shoulder, allowing it to dangle off the bed while you lay there exhausted.

“ but was slapping my ass like i’m some little kid necessary? “ you grumbled, sending her a weak glare. kafka laughs, caressing your tear–stricken cheek with her thumb. “ yep, mama has to put her baby in check when she’s gets out of line—“

“ please don’t you ever refer to yourself as mama and never say that again. “

|—|

NEW YORK, UPSTATE MANHATTAN

TIME: 7:57 AM

(BONUS)

you groan, drowsy eyes slowly flutters open as the warmth of the morning sun hits your bare skin. sitting up, you stretched your stiff arms. “ damn, i’m thirsty. “ you yawned, mouth dry. suddenly, an arm loosely curls around your waist, making you flinch. “ if you want a glass of water darling, i can get up and get it for you. “ kafka drawls, drowsiness evident in her voice. she peeks up at you through her unruly purple locks, casting you a lazy smile.

“ o-oh, you’re still here, kafka. “ you said, surprised. she hums, reaching out to grasp your hand, brings it up to her lips, and kisses your knuckles. “ why would i not be? i wouldn’t leave just like that unless something or someone requires my time. “ you giggled, already knowing who she’s directing her shade at.

“ nonetheless, thank you, kafka. for everything, really. you done so much for me and i can’t thank you enough for it. i wouldn’t have gotten so far in the spider society without you. “ you smile brightly at her. a light blush stains her creamy cheeks. has she also ever told you that you look like an angel when you smile?

“ aw, isn’t that adorable. but you’re welcome sweetheart. like i said, anything for you. and if nothing comes up later, i can look for the letter with you the other me could of possibly left behind. “

“ i would like that, my spidey in crime. “

[lafleshlumpeater]

Conrad Fisher x Reader (fake dating)

warnings: one swear word, fake dating, fem!reader, mutual pining, mentions of food, lmk if there's anything i've missed<3

TYSM @diqldrunk FOR INSPIRING ME TO WRITE THIS YOU'RE THE BEST<3

conrad fisher masterlist

“Remind me why I’m being your girlfriend again?” You ask, kicking the passenger compartment in front of you nervously as Conrad drove next to you.

He takes the next right, glancing at the GPS as you do. Shit. Almost there.

“I told you, remember? My mom thinks I’m lonely and depressed and she keeps trying to set me up with her friends’ daughters.”

Nibbling your lip, you frown. “And you thought I was the best person to do this because-?”

“It’s believable,” he reassures, fingers drumming against the steering wheel in repetition. Your eyes scan him up and down. Not checking him out, of course, but because you want to see if the two of you look good enough together for the story to be plausible. You can’t picture it.

“I mean, look at you,” he speaks, slightly distracted with trying to keep below the speed limit, yet still managing to effortlessly read your racing mind. “You look like the definition of someone I would date.”

You try not to smile at that, smoothing your pleated black skirt down over your thighs. You had asked if it was too formal earlier, paired with your maroon sweater and black tights, but Conrad had assured you it was fine and that ‘you look… great’, and maybe you were reading too much into it but you could have sworn you noticed his blue- green eyes (you could never really tell which) linger on your elegant neck and down at your calves through the sheerness of the fabric poorly concealing them.

You put it down to your wishful thinking, seeing things that weren’t actually happening.

The car comes to a stop, causing you to immediately snap out of your spiralling thoughts.

“We’re here.”

You instantly rummage through your crimson leather handbag for a mirror and check your immaculate reflection. Pristine eyeliner, lip stain steadfast, hair in behaving. Conrad turns to you, noticing your jittery movements.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?” You cringe internally at the way you respond too quickly, and you find yourself wishing you had just stayed in your dorm all day, lounging around and eating ice cream and watching cheesy rom- coms.

“You really don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to. I can just tell my mom that you feel really ill-”

“No, honestly, I’m…” Your teeth peek out again to gnaw on your lip. “I’m- fine?” The fact that it comes out like a question causes your eye to twitch.

He steps out of the car, shutting his door and comes around to open yours. You almost scoff. Why does he have to be so gentlemanly?

Conrad’s hand tentatively reaches up to your face, delicately pulling your thumb from your incessant teeth. “Are you sure?” He persists, and his voice is so gooey and thick with something you would love to assume is tenderness. You wonder if it was a waste of time deciding on your new designer blush that you’d been saving to wear for the first time.

Your words fail you as your breath hitches in your throat, and you can do little more than nod. “What if- what if I mess it up, and she realises that, we’re not really… dating?”

Conrad tucks a tuft of hair away behind his ear, something you’d been aching to do for most of the drive. “She won’t,” he says firmly. “I trust you.” A laugh almost escapes your throat as you realise he has more trust in you than you possess in yourself, but you push the thought aside as you realise he’s staring at you intently, awaiting an answer. You nod, and his face pulls up into that gorgeous grin which frequently haunts your daydreams during the dreary college lectures. It’s infectious, and you find yourself beaming very similarly as he offers his hand to you, helping you out of the car. It’s impossible to find his courteousness overbearing, not when he squeezes your hand as if telling you it’s okay or his eyes flicker to you for a moment, but the look in them feels like he’s looking at you like you’re his everything, and you’re not sure if that makes you adore or be wary of him.

You’re still pondering this when mere seconds after Conrad knocks on the door it swings open. A woman, who you assume is aged somewhere around forty- five, stands at the doorway and from the face- splitting smile on her face you can just tell she’s the life and soul of every party. “You’re here!” She hugs her son first, and you stand somewhat awkwardly beside them when she releases your ‘boyfriend’ and observes you, but you can tell from the sparkling glint in her eyes that it’s not for the sake of criticising but out of genuine inquisitiveness.

The woman you deduce is Susannah meets your eyes. Although her face is precisely lined with age, there’s a pleasant sense of life and hope and quintessence in her gaze. She greets you by your name, and you’re not surprised- Conrad had mentioned calling his mother earlier that morning.

You reach out for a handshake and she surprises you, wrapping her arms around you- warm and motherly. You reciprocate the gesture, and guilt fills you at the lies you are to spoon feed her.

During the delicious (late) lunch of homemade food, you’re bombarded with questions. How you and Conrad met, if you shared any classes, your family, your hobbies… everything and anything. And not just by Susannah, either, but by Conrad’s brother, who you kept forgetting the name of but knew it started with ‘J’.

Susannah’s eyes switch between you and her older son. “So, are you looking for something long- term, or-?”

A dusting of pink covers the tops of Conrad’s cheeks and nose- something you don’t see enough, and you’re indecisive as to whether you love or hate that the sight turns your insides to mush. “Mom.”

You hold his hand over the table, playing your role perfectly. “It’s fine,” you say, accompanied with a tinkly laugh. “In full honesty, I’m not one hundred percent sure. But…” You turn to stare at the boy beside you, his hand growing clammy in yours- “I’m pretty sure we’re both planning on staying together. Your son is a very special person, and I care about him very much- I’m so lucky to have him.”

You want to sigh and laugh at the irony at the same time- your last sentence was the embodiment of black and white; the first part had been completely true; Conrad was special, and you wished with your whole heart he could be yours, but you definitely did not ‘have’ him.

 It wasn’t anything you didn’t know; Conrad Fisher could just simply, never be yours.

“But equally,” you carry on when Susannah nods in satisfaction. “We’re both young, and… anything could happen. Right, babe?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Conrad nodded, but when he turns to you his eyes flash with content and he offers you a genuine half- smile, both gestures saying more than words ever could, and you knew he was satisfied with your deliberately vague response.

A little while after, Conrad excuses both you and himself to rest a while in his room, because of ‘the long journey’. You obliged without needing to consult him; you knew the effort of keeping the act up was mentally draining from first- hand experience.

He shuts the door behind you both and falls back on his bed, kicking his shoes off. Standing self- consciously, you wonder if he minds you sitting on his bed, of all places, or not.

He raises an eyebrow. “You can sit, you know.”

You sit on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the thin chain around your wrist. 

“Hey, thanks for… thanks for doing this for me.”

You look up, surprised. “You don’t need to thank me. Just a friend helping out a friend,” you feign nonchalance, not meeting his gaze at your heart squeezes painfully at your own words.

“No, I’m serious,” he goes on. “I love my mom, but she’s been going on about me getting with someone for ages. You’re a life- saver.”

You look down at where he’s resting his arms behind his head next to you, the first two buttons of his black button- up undone. Your eyes fight to remain focused on his. “You’re good.”

His eyes narrow, eyelashes fringing observant irises as he sits up. The fact that he’s now closer than before doesn’t escape you. “You’re not uncomfortable by all this, right?”

“Not at all. I’ve really enjoyed meeting your mom, even under… unusual circumstances.” He smiles at that, no teeth but all dimples and your fingers twitch with wanting to trace over them. His eyes remain trained on you for a couple more seconds. You iron your hands over your skirt again, a repetitive, nervous tic.

Conrad shuffles slightly closer- your heart flirts enticingly with your thoughts, convincing your brain that the distinct smell of ocean spray and wet sand was coming from the handsome boy next to you and not through the open window.

“Hey.”

Your head tilts up to look at him- startled slightly, but not unpleasantly so when you realise you’ve miscalculated how close he actually was. Every detail on his face is visible; the unreal sharp of his jawline, the faint freckle just under his left eye you yearn to kiss…

“You’re beautiful,” he mutters under his breath- you almost miss it, it’s so sudden.

“Wha- what?” 

“You’re beautiful,” he says simply, as if it’s a well- known fact everyone knows. Your stomach flips and suddenly the white of the ceiling looks very interesting. “Hey, look at me.”

You do.

“I’m serious. You’re really pretty and I-”

“Where is all this coming from?” You interrupt.

Conrad looks bewildered. “What do you mean?”

“Like, do you just feel bad because I did this for you? Or is it something-”

What Conrad does next stuns you; all of a sudden, his hand is on the side on your neck, his thumb caressing along your jaw and his lips are pressed to yours, sweet and all- consuming and slightly wet but it’s everything you’ve dreamed about and more, causing you to melt into him with your eyes closed, arms tentatively creeping around his neck.

You don’t know whether it’s been a minute or an hour, but it’s definitely been a while, judging by the telltale screaming of your lungs for oxygen.

Time is a strange thing.

Pulling away for a gasp of air, you can’t help but giggle at the faint red marks of colour on the boy’s lips. He smiles, albeit confused, sneaking an arm around your waist. “What?”

“You’ve got a little…” You reach out and gently wipe the smudge away with a manicured fingernail. He’s still staring at you intensely.

“I really like you, you know.”

Your lips quirk upwards, fixing his slightly creased collar. “Nice to know it’s not just because you think I’m pretty.”

His jaw tenses, thinking you’ve misunderstood, but he relaxes quickly when he sees the playful glimmer reflecting in your pupils. “It isn’t. You’re… amazing. Smart, funny, great sense of humour-”

“You talk too much,” you cut across him, pulling him down for another sweet kiss which you both smile into.

taglist: @kimorna

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

[mockerycrow]

Hi 👋

I was wondering if we could have some fluff? But please only write when you're not busy.

Reader is sick, and how would each member take care of them, nursing them, telling the reader that they gonna take good care of them and then finish it off with some cuddles.

SICK MOMENTS; Ghost Edition (GN!Reader)

ghost masterlist

authors note; yet another “moments” series. idk who i’m doing next, but stay tuned :-) — this is an incredibly old WIP. i will be doing “sick moments” series, but i’m in horrible writers block and I want to finish off the 4k requests. life is busy, i’m so sorry!!!

[WARNINGS; implied civilian!reader, sickness, medicine/drug usage, celsius is used, mentions of vomiting, fluff.]

YOU END UP waking up in the middle of the night with the most painful ache in your throat and the worst headache you’ve ever experienced in your life. You’re drenched in sweat, your shirt—Simon’s shirt, actually—clinging to your sweat soaked back, and your blanket feels so suffocating. You can’t help the whimper that leaves you as the pulsing in your temples and eyes quickly turn to pounding, and you blindly shove the blanket off of yourself.

You don’t even think to look if Simon’s in the bed with you; not when your stomach is twisting so horribly you think you won’t make it to the bathroom. You push yourself out of bed and stumble out of the room and down the hall, and you don’t vomit, but you’re nauseous as you’re on your knees, your hands slick with sweat as you grip the toilet seat—something you’ll cringe and gag at later.

You aren’t too sure how long you’re there, waiting for the vomit to bubble up your esophagus, but you eventually feel a usually warm hand—cool at the moment due to your fever—rub the back of your neck. “Hey..” Simon’s deep voice fills your ears. sounds tired, as if he was sleeping before this. He probably was. You don’t look at him as your eyes are closed, but you let out a whimper of acknowledgment.

“Tilt your head up, love.. Mhm, that’s it..” You follow his direction, feeling something press against your forehead, a few flicking noises, and then a beep. Whatever he held against your forehead, Simon pulls away. “39 degrees..” Simon mutters, a sigh leaving him. “Hey, you think you’re gonna vomit?” He asks, being straight forward whilst also being conscious of your condition. You take a moment to think and you shake your head. “No,” You croak. “Just nauseous.”

Simon hums, his hand touching the back of your neck again reflexively in an attempt to provide you some comfort; some familiarity whilst your head spins with illness and pounding pain. The twisting and swirling feeling of the nausea in your gut and throat doesn’t settle for a good while, muffled noises of despair leaving your lips. Each time, Simon quietly acknowledges your pain, praising you for enduring it, that he knows that it hurts.

Simon hates when you’re in pain of any kind. He hates it from when you have an annoyingly painful stuffy nose to stubbing your toe on the corner of the couch—when you’re sick like how you are now, to when you frown when the water in the sink is a bit too hot for your liking. If Simon could shield you from any harm and pain, he would in an instant. In a perfect world, you would never be sick and never stub your toes, you would never have colds and the water would magically be the correct temperature.

Alas, this is reality.

“It’s too early to phone the doctor but I will make sure to do first thing when they open, alright, sweetheart?” Simon’s deep voice rings in your ears, so low that it vibrates in your chest for a moment—and just for a second, your nausea goes away. You wish you could box his voice up and put it in your ears all the time from how soothing you find it. You realize you didn’t respond when Simon calls your name softly and you nod, your eyes remaining shut. “I wanna die.” You moan unseriously, your eyebrows twinging together from the pain between them deep in your skull.

Simon chuckles and squeezes the back of your neck softly. “I’m going to fetch you a glass of water and some medicine to help you until morning. I’ll be right back.” You respond with a simple nod, focused on keeping the nausea away. You’re sure Simon has teleporting capabilities because he’s back by your side in record time. He’s helping you tip your head back, his hand carefully cradling the back of your head and slipping a couple pills into your mouth, carefully giving you sips of water. Not too quick to further your nausea, not too slow to have you think about it too much.

The water is refreshing and cold when it slips down your throat. “There you go,” Simon praises softly, his tone so soft that it contradicts the natural low, grittiness in his voice. “Gave you some anti nausea, some pain meds. I’m not sure if I should give you any fever reducers yet. I’ll be monitorin’ your fever.”

You nod, shuddering slightly as the hand on the back of your head goes to your jaw and neck, guiding your head to lean against his thigh as Simon is standing up straight. “I don’t think I can move yet.” You croak loud enough for him to hear, which earns his callused thumb stroking over your cheek. “That’s alright, love.” Simon murmurs. “We can stay like this as long as y’need. I’ll get ya set up in the living room when you’re feeling a bit better, yeah?”

You nod, turning your head to bury half of your face into his sweatpants, feeling eternally grateful for this man. It took you both a long time to get to this point together—a lot of push and pull between you two, a lot of communication and a lot of trust. In the end, it’s been worth it.

🏷️; @mlmxreader @kivino @soapybutt17 @microwavedcheetos @frazie99 @ch3rrykoolaid @kimdiedlater @glossysoap @thisuserloveshalloween @indefenseofkara @mushr00mf00d @lieutenantlashfaz @queen-leviathan @specter319 @morganight

not tagged? i wasn’t able to or i was confused on your tag list choices </3 interested on joining my tag list? click here and fill it out. :)

wrongly tagged? let me know and update your tag list form!! it won’t bother me :-)

[littlemisssilly]

Hey!! This is just a little something I wrote to be purely self indulgent,, anyway enjoy some Vox x Situationship!Reader :>

Warnings: a lot of angst (fluffy ending though!), mentions of Valentino being violent/abusive

[Note: I am aware this may be slightly OOC but! I don’t care this is for fun lol]

Replacements and Repairs

— When Vox gets his screen smashed, he can’t replace it alone. Unconveniently for him, the only person around to help is you.

Vox cringed as he fumbled his way up to his penthouse, so uncomfortably uncoordinated it would have had his head spinning if it wasn’t currently smashed to thousands of shards. He was completely blind in one eye and partially in the other, making the simple action of getting into an elevator, pressing the button, and getting access to his own damn house much more difficult than he would’ve liked.

Damnnit, Valentino, he cursed in his mind; which was already a glitching mess considering the damage made to his hardware had also affected his software. He’d have to change his screen, most definitely, which was impossible because Velvette was out of town and his new assistant had just been murdered in the latest extermination. So there was no one. No one, except for one person.

You.

He groaned inwardly, dreading the concept of having to phone up his - were you a friend? - sure, he’d call you a friend, because it actually physically hurt him to think any harder than he already was doing. Clawed fingers fumbled blindly at the elevator buttons until he found what he only hoped was the top floor. Vulnerability was not his thing, and the concept of you seeing him like this? He wasn’t feeling fantastic. In fact, he was beginning to feel ill.

But he knew without a doubt that you would come. It was that genuine care he constantly felt radiating off of you that proved to him that you weren’t going anywhere. He couldn’t figure out why.

For whatever reason, you never wavered. You were electric, with a witty tongue that he just thrived off of. And now you’d have to see him like this.

No, maybe he could wait until the morning. He could wait until Velvette came home again. Vox recalled the last time he did that, then recalled the excruciating pain he woke up in, and frustratedly decided against it.

Fuck it. He’d just have to call and hypnotise you after.

His screen no longer functioned as a phone, so he reached for the handheld one in his pocket and eventually found your contact. Hesitantly he dialed the number, stumbling through the door of his penthouse and onto a nearby couch. His head really hurt now.

You were in bed, tired eyes blinking through a yawn when your phone buzzed, moving slightly across the chipped wood of your bedside table from the vibrations. Lazily you picked it up, only to find the exhaustion leave your body when your eyes met the screen and saw that it was Vox calling. What did he want past midnight? It wasn’t the first time he had called so late, but you had thought for sure he told you he was staying in tonight, so he wasn’t out getting shitfaced. Was he at home getting shitfaced? No, Vox was much too busy to spare a night he hadn’t specifically scheduled. You sighed - the man was so unpredictable - and nervously answered the call.

“Vox, hey,” your soft voice crackled through the phone speaker, and the overlord winced, his head sensitive to volume.

“Doll, I need you to come to the penthouse right now.” he replied, cursing the way his voice glitched with each word.

You frowned from your side of the line, sitting up in bed. You were half dressed, coat discarded lazily on the corner of a chair, your hair unruly and shirt wrinkled. Yes, it wasn’t anything new to get a call from the TV demon this late at night - but this sounded different. A sickening feeling bloomed in your stomach as you began to ramble a string of concerned words.

“Of course, are- are you okay? What’s going on? I’ll be right there.” Things like that tumbled past your lips as you pulled your shoes on. Vox never asked for help - you paled at the thought that something bad had happened to him.

Vox cringed at your words, knowing that there was no going back at this point. He leaned back in his chair in a desperate attempt to accommodate his discomfort, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and to the side. Satan, he was an idiot. A complete and utter idiot. If only he had kept his mouth shut in the middle of one of Valentino’s episodes - Vox knew better, yet he screamed at him anyway. The moth was never one to hold back in the midst of an outburst. And Valentino was stronger than he seemed.

Minutes passed. Vox waited. You arrived, pushing windswept hair out of your face as you closed the door gently behind yourself. You stifled a horrified gasp, practically running up to him as you took in the damage. Vox would’ve been embarrassed, only for the pain he was currently in.

“Tell me what I need to do,” you whispered, fingers reaching out to steady his twitching hands. Vox tensed at the unprompted touch, hands jerking away and up towards the back of his head. He grit his teeth hard, clawed fingers searching for discreet buttons near the base of his neck.

“There’s a replacement screen in my bedroom, it’s with all the tech, you’ll know where it is,” Vox said, struggling against his failing machinery. “All you have to do is hold this button here for twenty seconds, then this screen will turn off and you can screw it off. Got it?” Shaking hands pointed at the button he was instructing you to, and you nodded anxiously.

“Yes, of course. Yes, okay, I can do this,” you mumble, reassuring yourself that you weren’t going to somehow kill the overlord in the process of doing some replacement work. This would be fine, right? You swallowed. Your fingers reached for the button tentatively, pressing down on the sleek ridge in the screen for twenty seconds. Vox went limp in your arms, his body completely switched off.

Shit, don’t panic! you thought, trembling as you readjusted him to be more upright. You could almost pretend he was sleeping as you hastily went to retrieve the replacement. You knew exactly where it was. You had been in this room plenty of times, after all, and yet it had been a total shock when Vox had called for this purpose. Maybe he was beginning to trust you? You quickly shoved the thought aside, internally berating yourself for thinking about the complexity of your relationship instead of getting to his side faster.

The changing of the screen itself was particularly easy, despite how unnerving it was to see him headless. You decided you never wanted to do that again - and pressed the same button at the base of his neck once more when the new screen was fully screwed on.

A minute passed where a blank blue screen was the only light source in the room, his system clearly rebooting after needing an entire replacement. You stayed dutifully by his side, careful to stay far enough away that you wouldn’t startle him upon waking up.

When his systems started up again and his face was displayed back on the screen, he initially gasped for air and blinked hard, wildly searching the room around him. Piercing red eyes quickly met your gentle ones and he instinctively relaxed, looking up at you from where he sat slumped at an angle.

You smiled earnestly, feeling out of place in such an open moment with Vox - you almost felt like you should’ve left. But you didn’t.

“You okay? Did I do that right?” you asked, careful to be quiet in fear of overstimulating him after a full reboot. It felt right to be quiet anyway, given that the penthouse was so dark currently. There were no lights on, only the dim blue hue emanating from Vox’s screen and the streetlamps that glowed through large glass windows. It felt easier to be encased in the dark, alone with him; like the two of you could say or do whatever you liked and it was okay because you wouldn’t feel exposed.

He broke your eye contact, eyes searching his palms, small cuts littering here and there from the broken glass. Vox looked up at you again, sitting there so loyally, and he would’ve groaned in humiliation if it weren’t for the sweet look on your face.

“You did it just fine,” Vox was quiet for a moment. “And thank you.” he added after quick consideration, ready to hypnotise you into forgetting.

But he couldn’t do it. The second he met your eyes again he couldn’t do it, because you were good, maybe the only good thing in his life. You cared about him without him needing to manipulate you into it. And that was rare, and he didn’t know if he would ever get that again; so he sat up instead, beckoning you over to his side on the couch.

You obliged, sitting close to him, placing a kiss on the side of his new screen before allowing him to wrap an arm around your shoulder as you cuddled into his side. His fans kicked on at the action, whirring gently in the background. You didn’t say anything, just merely concealed giggles as he huffed, sliding a defeated hand down his screen.

“I hate you,” he muttered, and you rolled your eyes.

“I like you too, idiot.” you chirped, grinning to yourself in the darkness.

Neither of you knew what the morning would bring. But you’d stay in the dark for a while, and that would be okay.

[onlydijah]

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ BAD HABIT ❪ INTERLUDE ❫

𝜗𝜚 CATCH IT! — dislike to lovers, both are still in high school, no warnings i think

𝜗𝜚 WORDS FROM ME! — hi i wrote this at like 3 am so my apologies if its not good😭 idk if im gonna continue this but if i do i it’ll be a 4-parter!! plot was inspired by some book i read i lwk forgot the title (😓😓)

𓂃 ִֶָ𐀔 — word count, 1.3K

THE MOTONOUS BUZZING of the pasty white fluorescent lights vibrated throughout the sterile, lifeless room as an older, chubby man paced around the spacious area. “I don’t even know what our game plan is here ken. I… ugh.” he spoke, feebly.

The younger teenager shrunk deeper in his seat, reverting back to his signature manspread. He looked around unsteadily, praying he didn’t accidentally meet his coach’s disappointed eye and let out a laugh.

As the dull melody of clicking footsteps and clock chimes continued, a million and one thoughts swirled through each other’s heads. While one was more focused on what he would eat for dinner tonight, another grappled with the fact that his star baseball player was as good as gone.

“Do you have anything? anything to say for yourself?” The frustrated man exhaled as he plopped down on his worn office chair, the wheels scooting it back a little upon his impact. “13 violations is absolutely crazy young man, your mom ever tell you ‘if you dont have anything nice to say, hold your tongue?’ god, we’re lucky the committee let you off easy the other 12 times, but I fear they’ve realized the way you act out on the pitch far outweighs any positives your talent grants you.”

The implication of career ending consequences in his coach’s outburst made the boy stand straight in his seat, “Huh? waddyamean, I would say my teasing adds charm.”

“Right… right! How about we go through some of your charming encounters, shall we?” The elder kissed his teeth as his hands rustled their way through the stacks of papers on his desk.

“That actually isn’t necessary!” Kenji responded suddenly with a nervous chuckle and uncomfortable grin, lunging across the desk in an attempt to stop his coach from reading his rather… vulgar jibes.

“No no, I think it's very necessary actually,” his coach remarked, raising his hand high to prevent the boy from reaching his documents. The younger boy fell face flat on the desk, choosing to just lay his head there as the man in front of him listed off the many crude actions he had been reported for.

“Are you kidding me? What does his face shape have to do with you throwing a beanball at his head?!”

“Ummmm.. so it was throwing me off the whole game so i had to like— even out his proportions.. ya’know?” Kenji answered sparingly, contorting his fingers and emphasizing each word he responded with so as to get his point across. “That’s not a valid reason and you know that.” his coach rebutted, shaking his head with distaste.

He loosened his grip and the pamphlet dropped with a loud “thud”. Raking his hands through his graying, jet black hair he began, “Listen, I'm gonna try and find a way to get you out of this— but there's no guarantee they won't find a way to terminate your scholarship. Ill have an answer for you by tomorrow.”

“Ouff.” The younger male let out a heavy exhale. “That bad?” he cringed.

“That bad.”

The rest of that day was ruined for Ken as his only hope of starting a successful baseball career was entirely in his nimble-minded coach’s hands. Easy to guess he didn't have much faith in him.

He roamed aimlessly around the massive halls of his school, taking note of every detail that the scattered decor offered. The curve of the walls when he was about to enter the gym, how the lights dimmed when he got close to the designated faculty/staff areas, and the navy blue bean bags littered across the library that helped transform the original cold, uninviting room into a welcoming space for all.

He admired how many windows the academy had, leading beautiful, warm natural light to pour from literally everywhere. He found comfort and belonging in the school as he strode, the expectation of being kicked out heavy on his shoulders only strengthened his love for the establishment.

Eyes lightly stinging from unpoured tears caused him to clench his eyes and shake his head frantically— his soft locks swinging across his face before he pushed them back into their place.

“Hello? Kenj.”

“Huh? Oh. Hi [name].”

“What?” She shrugged apathetically. “I didn't mean to ruin your main character moment but I needed your half of the history assignment like— yesterday.” she deadpanned, moving her hands around frantically.

“That wasnt due until Thursday!” Kenji negated, turning towards the girl. The height difference was quite intimidating from an outside perspective, but nevertheless the girl continued to argue.

“Are you actually illiterate? Like is there anything up there?” she pointed to his skull. “PLEASE let me know because if not I will gladly sign you up for the reading comprehension classes my little cousin takes.” she scoffed aggressively, turning the lightweight ring she had on her finger excessively.

“I’m alright, thank you.” Kenji sassed, pulling out his phone to “check his syllabus”. A couple beats of silence passed before he pressed his lips into a thin line and smiled.

“Oh my god.”

“I'm not stupid. Here.” He spat as he opened his backpack and lightly shoved a manilla folder into the girl's chest. “You're so irritating, like— why get me worked up in the first place?!” she pushed him back lightly. “You're evil. I can’t even—“ she rambled, unconsciously letting Kenji push her into the direction of the cafeteria. “See, this is entertaining!” He gushed, opening the cafeteria door and letting go of the girls backpack. “Bye friend!” he cheesed, turning back around to look for his clique— wherever they were.

The cafeteria was bright and energetic today, students laughing and arguing supplied audio for the usually silent enclosure; the clicking and clacking of plates and trays held a soothing melody for the ears of everybody there to enjoy while they worked and ate.

“Ohhhmygod that's crazy. He can't just do that can he?” Nia murmured as students bustled by their table to meet their friends. “Its not his fault, i'm here on scholarship so technically the school can revoke it whenever they want.” Kenji clarified.

“That bites man, im sorry.” she sympathized, shoving 3 sticks of strawberry pocky in her mouth. “S’okay. Coach Hayashi will find a way out for me. He always has.” he tried to reason, arms cradling his pounding head.

Nia dropped her pocky and rolled her eyes. “Now you're just lying through your teeth.” she chuckled. “Whatever.” Ken huffed, grimacing as his headache got worse.

“OVER MY DEAD BODY.” The younger woman fussed, slamming the door. “Cmon, [name] its not such a bad thing!” her counselor eargly hooted, “You’ll only be doing it for a week— max. And… well, you dont really have much of a choice anyway.”

The student exaggeratedly flopped onto the cream colored bean bag, glancing back at the colorful walls of Mrs.Aoki’s room. “Theres nobody else up for it?” she sighed grabbing a multicolored throw pillow; hugging it close against her chest, “I’ll take literally anybody else.”

“Im afraid not.” her words echoed around the lively expanse, bouncing around the colorful furniture and across the motivational poster spreads on the walls. “Be grateful he’s even up for this. Listen— the only person who can strain this arrangement even more now is you. So if you want to ruin your chances of ever getting into a good university, go ahead.”

The veiled wisdom hidden between the statement of the older woman became loud and clear against the young girls ear. “Your right.” she conceded. “Ill be there tomorrow.”

“Thats the spirit!” Aoki rejoiced, offering her pupil a soft smile.

© @onlydijah on tumblr. DO NOT copy, translate, or claim any of my works as yours. thank you! 💘

masterlist

[coolprettyleo]

talk of the town - will smith

tw: lowkey cringe. if ur not into it lmk lowk...

wc: 1.4k

will smith x influencer/ d'amelio sister

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

dylan couldn't believe the shit day she was having. she had woken up late and missed her pilates class, then she spilt coffee all over her laptop, and right now she was fifteen minutes late to her music class. it was her first ever day of college too.

even though she was having a horrible day, she was still dressed cute. she decided she wanted to start taking her school more seriously. and that meant actually going to class.

the thing about dylan though is that she didn't need school. she had over one hundred million followers on all platforms. she was what someone would call an influencer.

influencers usually didn't continue with school if they didn't need to so when dylan decided to still attend college it was a shock to a lot of people; including her family.

her family were all also influencers and didn't decide to attend college; rather deciding to work on their brand instead. a brand that dylan opted out of, she had decided to enter marketing at boston college.

she entered her music class to find that there was no less than twenty five students inside. thats what happens when you attend a private college! dylans strategy her whole life was to always sit in the back of classes. (it was easier to skip class and just lie to the professor and say you were there)

there was one seat left where three other boys sat. she set her stuff down. the boys giving her an odd look, not thinking anyone was going to take that last seat between them or probably trying to figure out why the hell she looked so familiar. dylan got that look often.

the professor though was deep in lecture about their upcoming assignment and dylan was too busy trying to find a top for her upcoming brand dinner in New York. she was pulled out of her own little world when the professor noticed she was not listening and had missed the introduction part of class and decided to call her out on it.

she felt a tap from the boy next to her getting her attention because it seemed the professor had been calling her.

"oh my gosh im so sorry what" she said removing an AirPod and sheepishly looking at the class who all seemed to be either smiling at her or giving her dirty looks.

"since you decided to grace us with your presence introduce yourself please" she said pointing to a slide that stated what exactly to say.

"uhm... im dylan. im from connecticut but I've been living in LA for the past four years, and im a marketing major" she said awkwardly feeling like everyone was judging her.

"alright thank you miss dylan. I want to see the title slide of the assignment done before I dismiss you guys" she said.

the three boys she sat with seemed to be life long friends and she was feeling a bit left out. she had zoned them out till she heard them whispering to each other.

"ask her"

"no thats weird"

"ill ask"

"your tiktok famous huh"

she looked up to a freckled boy her while the dark haired boy giggled and the blonde haired boy cringed.

"uhm, yeah... I guess" she said awkwardly. she really didn't know what to say.

"nice" he said going back to working on his assignment.

she smiled awkwardly and looked at the other two boys. who looked like they were cringing about their friends actions. the dark haired boy seemed to let it go and work on his assignment while the blonde one spoke up.

"im sorry about him, ryan doesn't know how to talk to girls"

"yes I do! if I didn't how would I of pulled frankie" ryan says.

"she basically pulled you" gabe quipped back.

dylan just giggled along to their battering. they seemed funny.

"he's fine. a lot of people don't realize its me in real life but instead just stare at me trying to figure out why I look so familiar, and thats creepier to me"

"well we knew it was you because everyones been saying you go here" ryan told her.

oh god it was a hot topic?

"people talk about it?" she said grossed out.

"yeah, but like no one ever sees you for some reason"

"I did online classes and lived in LA last semester" she told them. it was true, her family was filming their Hulu show and it didnt make sense for her to leave mid-way through filming.

"do you live on campus?" the blonde one asked her again. he seemed like the quiet and calmer one of the three boys.

hes hot

"no, I live in beacon hill, the city"

"why didnt you dorm" gabe nosily asked.

"I didn't think it would be too fun to share an apartment with random girls at first but now I regret it, because I have no friends here" she honestly told them.

"oh my god! my girlfriend has no friends!" ryan said loudly. which made will, gabe, and the people around them to laugh.

"im telling her you said that" will smiled mischievously at him.

"shutup smitty. we have a game tonight and she usually sits alone or with my parents but they're not coming tonight so she'd probably like the company!" ryan said. he was honestly just trying to do a nice thing. he knew frankie struggled with the fact she had no girl friends; even though she said it was fine, and dylan seemed nice.

"game?" Dylan said confused.

"oh ya! we play hockey" the freckled boy answered.

"oh thats cool!" dylan said. she had attended a couple games recently due to the fact her sister was dating an NHL player.

"im will, thats gabe, and ryan" the blonde one said pointing the dark haired boy and the freckled one.

"im dylan. and what's your girlfriends number, id be down to go" she said to the freckled one.

"here" he said writing it down and handing her a crumpled paper.

"her names frankie by the way"

"okay, ill text her after class" she said smiling getting back to work.

"what's your major?" will asked her. he didn't want the conversation to end for some reason. she was lowkey his celebrity crush since he was like fourteen and they first started getting famous.

"marketing. you?"

"communications"

"your quite the communicator then" she said.

oh my gosh dylan you sound pathetic what the hell even is a communicator?

what didnt help was that will looked clueless and Ryan and gabe seemed to be biting back a smile acting like they weren't listening.

"im sorry?"

"like, you like communications- like the major" dylan said, trying to save herself but digging an even deeper and awkwarder hole, turning as red as a tomato.

"uhm ya, I didn't really know what major to pick coming in" he said smiling at her. a smile that dylan liked to see.

"well what do you want to be?"

"a hockey player."

"oh... too bad hockey isn't a major huh" she said chuckling at her own joke while ryan and gabe gave her funny looks except will of course, who was laughing at the joke like it was the funniest thing ever said. (thats what your supposed to do when your crush tells a joke)

"and what do you want to be"

"honestly, I dont know. I just want to have the degree so I can have more of a say in the brands I deal with, and all that"

"so you want the knowledge" gabe said, since he's been listening.

"yeah, basically" she said. making eye contact with will who looked to be studying her a bit.

he knew she wanted to say more but seemed to be putting up a wall which was understandable seeing as she just met these boys twenty mins ago.

"well im all done." she said closing up her laptop and standing up.

"maybe ill see you guys later!" she said waving to them.

"look for 6" will said to her.

"six what?" she said confused.

"what?" he said equally confused now

"six of what" she said cluelessly.

"like the number six" he said smiling awkwardly.

"oh!! omg I knew that! okay!" she said grabbing her bag and waving bye to them.

gabe and ryan gave each other a knowing look before immediately chirping will.

"you are such a flirt"

"that was painful"

"and he said I dont know how to talk to girls"

"shutup guys" he said packing his stuff away before leaving. hoping to see her in the stands tonight. her personality was even cuter.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

im so sorry for not uploading! I just keep overthinking everything so I end up just deleting it! but thats just a me problem lol. but I hope u guys like this au. I plan to the it all together.

[myslutwritings]

Hi! :D Can I request headcanons on the upper moon demons (1,2,3+ Muzan) reactions to finding out their fem s/o is suffering from depression? (Especially after she’s tried to hide it from them and everyone else, not once admitting to having it - frankly because she feels as if they wouldn’t care or take her seriously anyway (due to past experiences with her own family and friends), until she couldn’t keep up the facade of acting cheerful, laid back and positive all the time, it being obvious that there is something quite not right with her, even if she denies it, trying to downplay the situation, knowing full well herself that it’s getting bad).

(Aaaaaaa, I love ur headcanons 😭💓 I’m sorry if this topic is not something you’d be comfortable with writing for, it’s just something I’ve been experiencing myself lately for the past couple of months, it’s getting harder each day, kinda have been feeling empty, exhausted and genuinely depressed lately, no one that I know cares or takes me seriously, nor tries to help me overcome these emotions :), I appreciate you reading my request anyway!<3 sorry for kinda pouring my heart out, ik it’s cringe and unnecessary, sorry).

No, no! it’s completely okay. I suffer from depression myself so i’m comfortable writing for topics like these! I honestly love writing angst/hurt/+comfort so ya!! Thank you for requesting, anon!! (Also i’m happy you like my headcanons! Tysm for your kind words. I do hope you feel better and i hope these hc’s can cheer you up!)

➤ Uppermoons with a Fem!S/O who suffers from Depression

➤ SFW headcanons

including: Muzan, Kokushibo, Douma and Akaza.

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warnings: non-canon reactions, mentions of suicidal thoughts, angst, etc.

Muzan

Muzan isn’t an idiot.

He can sense from a mile away that something is in fact wrong.

I mean, you always seem off.

He just cannot tell WHAT exactly is wrong.

You’re a strange one after all. (Not in a bad way obviously)

Muzan has asked you a dozen times prior, seeking out answers, at least an explanation for your change in behavior and emotions.

He dislikes change.

But wanna know what he dislikes more? You being upset.

“My dear, could you please tell me what’s wrong?”

Of course he never gets anything out of you. You just cast him that alluring yet suspicious fake smile of yours and reassure him that you’re “okay” or “fine” or even “couldn’t be better”

Your response are so.. dishonest.

Honestly, Muzan not knowing what exactly is wrong with you drives him wild. He ALWAYS wants to know what’s wrong, what you’re feeling, how you’re feeling, etc.

And whenever he isn’t aware of what exactly your feeling or is catching on to the suspicions that your lying it does in fact anger him.

Not only does it anger him but it upsets him incredibly. Like, do you not trust him? Are you scared of him because he’s the demon king? If you were secretly terrified of his existence he wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest. That’s how truly humans are after all.

But for you this isn’t the case. You aren’t even scared of him. Just scared of your own thoughts and feelings.

A part of you wishes you could open up but the other part of you is like: eh, fuck it.

Who could blame you for not wanting to open up to the demon king himself though?

You may be his girlfriend, but still, like he would actually bring himself to care.

You see how vicious he is towards other humans. So why would he even bother with your silly yet powerful emotions?

You desired to open up yourself but however that never came so Muzan had no choice but to force it out of you one day.

Toxic, sure. But you were driving him nuts!

Like he snapped when he came home one night to find you rotting in your own filth, an empty stomach, disheveled hair, god, have you been sleeping all day?

He will ask you ONCE again if you wanted to talk.

To which you respond with a sorrowful “no”

Then you for real have the gull to make up excuses saying you’ve fallen ill.

Yeah, right.

That is Muzan’s breaking point.

It startles you when he snaps at you and actually gets mad.

This is his way of caring everybody. 💀

Whenever you’re depressed the feeling of getting yelled at by someone you love can hurt you or make you feel numb on the inside, you know?

I’m this case, it all just caves in and you sorta have an emotional break down in front of him.

Muzan is at a loss for words as you spill out your deepest and darkest feelings.

At least you’re finally opening up.

But damn, bro is shocked. Please give him a minute to adjust to all this.

At first he doesn’t know how to respond, instead, he will respond physically and just let you cry in his embrace as you vent to him and babble “i’m sorry” literally over 1000 times.

Muzan knew humans had depression, he reads a lot and is well aware of what it is. He’s just distraught this his own partner felt this way for so long.

By the way, did i mention he’s going to kill anyone who’s ever wronged you?

But worry not! He is going to be there for you every step of the way even with his low tolerance:)

Kokushibo

In the beginning, Kokushibo has absolutely no clue what’s going on inside your head.

I mean, if you say you’re fine then you’re fine right?

That’s all until your seemingly bad mood increases more and more everyday.

Yeah, that’s when his suspicions SKYROCKET.

Kokushibo has asked you before but gave up on it after many failed attempts.

He still has his mild concerns though so instead he observes you from afar.

He can tell something if off but assumes that just because you’re a human.

Honestly, he had some suspicions here and there that you may or may not be dealing with severe depression.

Guess what? Those thoughts he had were correct.

You immediately assume he doesn’t care and won’t care due to his demonic nature and his expressionless behavior.

Kokushibo began to catch on more and more when you started to refuse to eat dinner, you just refused to get up from bed and even take care of yourself.

FINALLY drops that stoic personality.

Caretaker Kokushibo to the rescue. Is immediately scooping you up, siting you at the table and convincing you to eat.

If you don’t eat he’ll just spoon feed you.

That night he took care of you.

That’s when he found out of your depressed state. No confession needed.

The two of you aren’t the greatest match because of your lacked communication.

No, you two aren’t toxic. Fights don’t even exist between y’all.

You guys just can’t express feelings properly.

But Kokushibo is always waiting for you to further explain how you feel. He’s satisfied that he now is aware of what’s wrong with you but also deeply destroyed on the inside.

You don’t deserve these harsh feelings. Why must the world be so cruel?

From that day onwards, Koku keeps a close eye on you and takes care of you more often.

Sometimes even ditches missions for you.

Yeah, he gets chastised by Muzan for it but he doesn’t care.

As long as you’re safe then he feels content.

By the way he’s killing off ANYONE who made you feel this way.

Douma

very, VERY dense.

Like does not notice anything.

He just presumed that’s how you are.

Now, Douma does feel emotions around you. You’re the only thing that has ever brought him joy.

You make that cold heart of his beat.

He’s very clingy around you, like, SUPER.

Wants to be around you all the time.

Which is why it’s a shocker that he didn’t notice immediately your drastic change in behavior.

Douma only really took notice when you began to distance yourself from everyone.

Even him.

Now he couldn’t care less if you ran away from everyone else but him? Yeah, there is something wrong.

So, he simply asks you if you’re okay.

In which you lie and say you’re doing just fine.

Oh, you are? Okay!!

Is immensely confused when you continue to distance yourself though.

Haha, humans are so silly.

Douma becomes really confused but brushes it off.

It’s all surprising that he can come off so dense when it comes to this. I mean, you’re a demon? come on mannn…

Yeah, he does feel emotions around you but doesn’t fully understand them, you know?

I swear, Douma can be naive around you sometimes despite being the sadistic and masochistic demon he is.

It takes him a long ass time to realize how much you’ve been suffering.

Please do not get angry with him though. Remember that he is new to all this!

So the first emotion he feels once he finds out about your depression is EXTREME guilt.

REAL GUILT.

Flabbergasted by how fucking long it took him to find out the truth.

*Mentally facepalms himself*

His petty little followers don’t count. The man may have spend his last few hundred years listening to peoples woes and worries but his emotional responses towards their feelings were never even genuine.

To be brutally honest, Douma is hopeless.

Yeah, he wants to help you, he really does.

Just has no idea how to:(

However, if you show him how to then he will catch on fairly quickly and become the master when it comes to taking care of you and helping you cope with your depression.

Similar to Kokushibo, Cue caretaker Douma to the rescue‼️‼️

He doesn’t mind taking care of you. Honestly he absolutely adores it.

You’ve always been there for him, you taught him how to feel again. He’s so grateful that he’s finally helping you after all this time.

Lends you extra cuddles and kisses but if you’re the type to want your space when you’re depressed he’ll try his hardest to understand and be there for you emotionally instead! He just wants to be over you all the time and make sure you’re doing well, ya know?

Okay, he may lose his touching privileges but don’t think he isn’t gonna let his guard down!

From there on out, He keeps an eye on you at all times. He needs to make sure your taking care of yourself!

Douma also developed the tendency to whisper sweet nothings into your ear, his advice is surprisingly effective by the way. I mean, his advice towards you is actually genuine so that must be why.

“Oh, Y/N, my lovely lotus, i despise how you carry such a heavy burden. I wish i could take all these negative feelings away from you!”

Akaza

Like Muzan, he isn’t easy to take for a fool.

Notices the very second your behavior changes.

Akaza, being the most amazing boyfriend he is will obviously attempt to strike up a conversation, desperately wanting you to open up and communicate with him properly.

Becomes disappointed when you just brush it off as “not important”

Like what? It IS important!

YOU are MORE than important to him.

Akaza is not blind, he won’t submit nor play dumb towards your responses

Absolutely hates making you uncomfortable and would hate to force you to tell him how you’re feeling but desperate times call for desperate measures.

This is just his way for caring about you.

At first, he will try each and every day to be there for you and try and talk with you.

Sits on the side of your bed as your laying down, curled up, unmoving and will just kiss your forehead and give you time to open up.

Akaza will bug you consistently, fishing a response from you, anything, just anything!!

“Sweetheart, could you tell me what’s going on with you?”

Nothing. Just that same old response he hears every damn time.

“I’m fine”, “Nothing is wrong!”, “It’s okay, i’m doing well, just tired.”

Hatessssss when you lie to him:(

Akaza feels beyond powerless.

Your feelings are very important to him!

Sure, he hates weak people, hates any other human being he encounters but you’re different!

Akaza knows deep down you’re suffering from depression but desires for you to confess it yourself in your own time.

But at the end of the day he had to force it out of you.

Felt insanely guilt but what else could he have done?

Everything else he’s ever done for you got him nowhere due to your own stubborn dds

Akaza is not mad though.

He could never be angry with you for having depression i mean, you can’t help it.

We all know how overwhelmingly overprotective he is so the very moment he finds out a friend of family member caused you to feel this way and shut the world out he is going to throw hands.

Like, how dare they?!

Akaza is another caretaker! Skips important missions for your sake despite him knowing the punishments that come along with it.

Akaza won’t mind taking care of you but he also needs you to learn how to take care of yourself if you want to truly heal so he’ll be there for you every single step of the way in order for you to accomplish that!

Another thing that’ll happen is that Akaza will become more needy and clingy than usual. He must protest his precious girlfriend at all costs.

Kisses you and reminds you how much he loves you.

Fucking HATES it when he’s forced to leave you (when he’s summoned to the infinity castle)

But the very second he’s home he’s relieved.

On those days you’re feeling super depressed to the point where you can’t get up Akaza will cool you breakfast and serve it to you in bed. Will even feed you if he has to then eventually he’ll help you get up and offer you all the motivation and energy you need to make it throughout the day.

Bro is a gentleman.

Literally is always going to be there for you, love you unconditionally.

And most importantly…

Beat the living HELL out of whoever worsened your depression‼️‼️

I hope you enjoyed these headcanons! To all those out there suffering currently i can promise you that it’s going to be okay. You got this! <3