#it’s supposed to be fucked up and wrong on purpose so being a little strong or having some weird uses is partially on purpose though

[fantasykiri5]

Hey do y’all wanna see the most horrible fucked up homebrew ranger spell I just wrote out for fun

[cherry-leclerc]

true temptation ☆ cl16

genre: sainz!reader, humor, nnn (mommy, i can explain), smut, fluff, whipped!charles, established relationship

word count: 2k

Your boyfriend makes a decision to participate in NNN, but immediately regrets it when he realizes just how difficult it is to stay away from you. 

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...car sex, riding, fingering

req!... probably the longest drabble i’ve done so far, but i hope you all enjoy! 

“You’re never going to last.”

The Monegasque’ eyes challenge you as you stand there unimpressed, hands on your hips. It had all started with him barging in on you and calling an ‘emergency couple’s meeting’.

Pacing the room, he goes back and forth, mumbling slowly, as if creating a plan up in his head. As far as you’re concerned, he was never going to actually do it. The man was obsessed with you. 

“Have a little faith in me,” he groans, hands brushing his hair back in despair. 

His so called - ‘emergency’ -  was that he would be taking part in No Nut November. No kissing. No sex. 

Or anything remotely related to it.

Walking up to him, you pat his chest. His hands find their way down to your waist, doe eyes staring back up at him.

“I will… But I’m going to make your head spin.”

-

He started off strong. He even felt a bounce in his step when he entered Ferrari Hospitality; he swore he felt like he was walking on sunshine. 

“You’re actually doing it?” 

Joris, too, had no hope for his friend. He had seen the way the green eyed boy would cling onto you as if it were the only thing he knew how to do. The way he talked about you, even when you weren’t around. 

“Oui. Why? Do you not think it’s a good idea?”

His friend tilts his head to the side as he thinks about it for a minute. “Not sure. All I know is that your and Pierre’s bet on who can last longer is never going to end up good. You can’t even go a single second without kissing her!”

“He said he could last longer than me? I have to prove him wrong….” His mind slips over to the last part. “I can live without her kisses for a month. It’ll be fine.”

The Ferrari driver makes his way to his team, properly analyzing what faults his car had and how he can make the best out of it. Frustrated, Charles rubs his eyes. 

“I will do the best I can, but I can’t promise a podium. Not with a car like this.”

Taking notes, Xavi nods as he walks away. “Hi, Xavi!” The sound of your voice instantly makes him ease up as he searches for you. His jaw goes slack.

“What are you wearing?”

Smiling wide with eyes crinkled, you rush over to him. “It’s only a dress.”

But it wasn’t just a dress. He knows you did it on purpose, wearing the little black dress he had last fucked you in. It’s the way it fans your thighs as the wind gently teases anyone passing by. 

“You’re supposed to be on my team. Are we really going to let Kika and Pierre win?”

Rolling your eyes, you tippy toe, naturally about to kiss him, but stop yourself before you do. He frowns. 

“You are sooo right!” You comedically screech as you slap your hands against your cheeks. “I do want us to win! Forget the kiss, my mistake.”

He chuckles darkly, shaking his head. 

“You’re a fucking nightmare.”

-

He’s a week in and he’s finally starting to lose his grip.

“You’re sweating buckets, mate,” Daniel points out as he lets out a loud laugh, doing a muppet dive. Charles unbuttons his collared shirt. 

“It’s the heat, it’s the heat.”

The Aussie furrows his eyebrows and he raises a hand up to feel the air. Light breeze. Shivering, you strut over to your boyfriend. 

“Can we leave? It’s getting too cold.”

And he hates the way that dress clings onto your body, your figure being completely shown off. Nothing but dirty thoughts have entered his mind from the moment he first saw you. 

“Sure.”

Kicking off your heels, you throw yourself onto the bed, face first. Shooo tirefff, you mumble against the sheets. He purposefully takes a seat across from you, knowing he’d be tempted to cross the line if he didn’t. 

Tossing over, you reach out for him. And he’s about to turn you down, but he notices the way your nose is painted pink - your cheeks, too - and soft, tired eyes meeting his. His heart melts at the sight. So, he reminds himself that a hug with his girlfriend is nothing bad.

Climbing onto his lap, you dig your face into his chest, short dress riding up. He physically has to stop himself from letting out a loud moan. Instead, he traces his fingers up and down your spine. You shudder.

“Are you sure we can’t fuck, Charlie?”

Right there, is his breaking point. He’s ready to kiss you, finger you, eat you out, fuck you, anything. But you giggle teasingly as you pull back, a wicked smile drawn. 

“Whoops. Never mind.”

-

He’s known you wouldn’t make this easy on him. It’s almost as if you’ve made it your mission to screw with his head - and while he would normally love it - in this case, it was killing him.

Dance with me, you would beg him and you sway in front of him. It was a rare moment of it just being you two, so naturally, you took advantage of it. You showered, did your skincare, watched a movie, but the moment you heard Sparks by Coldplay echoing from his phone, you immediately jumped up like a bunny.

Then, his heart would melt, and melt, and melt - and melt some more. It would only be a reminder of what a perfect match you both were. He would memorize your face once again; no makeup, eyebags due to long travels with him, a small cut on the bridge of your nose from earlier when Lando had accidentally hit you with his frisbee, pink lips he so desperately missed. 

He would oblige, the way you knew he would. He found home within you as you would both sway, your feet on top of his as he would lead you both, you having to do nothing but close your eyes and feel his heartbeat. And it was so sweet to know that it was only yours.

I love you, he would remind you as if he didn’t already tell you a million times before. As if it were a way to make up for all this. And you would say-

“I know.”

-

“How are you keeping up?” 

The Frenchman smiles proudly as he takes a sip of water. “I’m actually doing fine. You?”

Charles gulps, green eyes following to where you stand next to Kika.

“Good.”

-

“It’s actually not that hard.” 

Kika and you had been touching up on your boyfriend's challenge. She would say it as if it were the easiest thing. You slump against your chair.

“That’s not fair… Mine has the most beautiful face ever!”

“Hey!”

You squeal as she aims a pillow at you. I’m sorry! The Portuguese laughs too, sticking her tongue out. You sigh. “I do miss him, though.”

“Yeah…”

“Have we seriously just been talking about how horny we are?”

“Don’t say it like that!” She bites her lip. “We have.”

“Why did they ever think this was going to be a good idea?”

Propping her arm against the table, she beams. “It’s not, but I heard from Pierre about how much Charles is struggling.” You groan.

“Yeah, well that’s nothing but his own fault.”

-

It’s now been 2 weeks and he’s already given up. His pleads were convincing. 

C’mon, baby. Let me fuck you.

It’s been too long. I miss the way you taste.

But you stood your ground. 

“No, no, no.” You shook your head, running away. Seeing Carlos, you hide behind him. “You brought this onto yourself! Now you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

Confused, Carlos questions you both on what you’re talking about. It’s just that your sister won’t let me-

“Stop! That’s my brother!”

The Monegasque shrugs as Carlos turns to you. What is he talking about? Your face burns up as you brush him off. “Nada, nada - he’s just being a jerk.” And so, he believes it and walks away, too tired to deal with any of it.

 You let out a squeal when Charles plunges towards you. He picks you up, carrying you to his motorhome.

“Let go!”

Dropping you onto his small bed, he stares down at you like a lion salivating over their prey. You suppress a whimper, clamming your legs shut. He raises a brow.

“You’re telling me you don’t want the same thing I do? I promise I’ll do it just the way you like it.”

Closing your eyes, you can picture it. You can feel him already, pressed up against you. You do want it, you do. Opening your eyes, you shake your head. 

“Just two more weeks to go.”

-

“We lost.” Taken aback, you snort. What do you mean? Your friend blushes before dragging you to the corner. “I mean that last night Pierre and I went out for dinner and one thing led to another and-”

“Okay, okay, I caught on!”

Giggling, she shimmies her shoulders towards you. “What are you going to do?” You pout as you stare back blankly. She sighs. “I’m talking about you and Charles! I mean you both already won - you could do whateverrrr you want.”

Stuttering, you cough before saying, “You made it loud and clear, thank you very much.”

-

Shivering, you climb into the passenger's seat of his Pista as you thank him for opening and closing your door. As soon as he climbs in, he turns on the heater. The Monaco streets were lonely, everyone already in their homes, sheltering from the light rain that had picked up.

“You want to pull over?”

You sound so sweet asking that he almost thinks he’s hallucinating or that any second now you’re going to surprise him with a, just kidding!

But he quickly could tell you weren’t and he doesn’t want to let the moment slip away. Not when he’s been waiting for so long. Screw it if he lost.

Pulling over on the side of an isolated street, he hauls you onto his lap. You thank the universe for skirts. Pushing your panties aside, his long fingers slide against your wet folds. You let out a wail.

“Fuck, you don’t know how I’ve missed hearing you.” He slides two fingers in. “Feeling you.”

Dazed, you find yourself grinding on his fingers. Every single time they would brush against your g-spot, you would kiss him harder. He slips them out, bringing them up to his lips. 

And he moans in a way you’ve never heard before. So fucking sweet. Blushing, you lean in to kiss him. You can still taste yourself.

“Charles, please - do something.”

Never during your entire relationship has he ever fucked you as hard as he did that day. His grip on your waist hurt, but it hurt so good. His cock would continuously brush against where you needed him the most, so much so, he left you seeing stars. Drooling all over him, you hold onto his shoulders, bouncing up and down rapidly.

“So tight – So warm.” He chokes when you ground your hips deeper. “So fucking good.”

Then, he finishes inside of you. His fingers slide down to your clit as he rubs it. You finish with a loud cry. Kissing you one last time, he slaps your ass. You scowl playfully.

“Admit it - you’ve missed it, too.”

-

“Just a few more weeks and you would have won!” Pierre clicks his tongue before kicking his legs up against the table in front of him. Charles rolls his eyes.

“I’m never doing that again.”

Kika smacks the Frechman’s thigh. “You both lost, remember? Only, you did before him.” The Monegasque quickly springs up.

“You’re saying we won?”

“You’re acting as if this were the fucking Olympics, Cha.” You drag him by the arm to sit back down as he starts celebrating his ‘accomplishment of the year’.

“What are we clapping about?”

Your brother strolls over to an open seat as he opens up a water bottle. Hurriedly, you screech, “Nothing! Only that the season is almost over-”

“He’s yapping about how he won No Nut November, except, he didn’t. 2 weeks and fucking does not count.”

“You did what?”

Jumping up, Charles trips over his feet as he tries backing away from the angry Spaniard. “I think I forgot my phone! I’ll be right back!”

Chasing after him, your brother yells out, “That’s my baby sister, cabrón!”

[someiicecube]

I had this post sitting in my drafts for a while and I was suddenly reminded of it haha. 

Anyway, we all know this line from the main character synopsis, right? 

Only humans?

Is this purposeful on the writer's part to specifically mention the curse can only affect humans? Or are humans the only creatures mentioned because that's all the main character has had the chance to... curse with their touch?

Can the curse affect monsters?

Currently, we can't know one way or the other. 

Even if we did touch Leander, bare hand and all, it's Leander. The main character is under the impression that, because he's such a strong and powerful mage recommended to us by the mysterious doctor Kuras himself, it's just something he can do apparently—  although, we as the players know that's not all there is to it... just what is it? Is it part of his supposed monsterous-ness? Does he really know a spell that can protect against our curse? What's Leander's Jungle Juice really made out of? We can't tell yet...

Chosing Leander in this context is such a strategical plot point because he cannot answer our initial question. Is Leander not affected because he cast his little protection spell? Or is Leander not affected because he is/has become a monster?

However, we still can assume that the main character doesn't have full knowledge on what they are capable of with their curse— ya' know, probably being mostly surrounded by humans and such. So, the idea of touching even a monster is probably not a theory anyone wants to test (unless you're a mage, then please do it on some random monster and not the LIs for funzies... unless you want to).

Could this be a seed the writers are planting? Maybe, maybe not. But leaving the question unaswered (by Leander), again, makes the player and main character cautious by nature.

But what if they did slip up?

What if they slipped up and it happened on accident? 

Your bare fist colliding into Ais' chest, skin-on-skin but still a solid blow. Your hand desperately reaching out for Kuras' own, just wanting to feel his warmth once more only for a moment. Your palm sweeping against Vere's shoulder, pushing him away, your skin brushing along the thin translucent fabric. Or your fingers digging into Mhin's wrist as their dagger hovers right above you, their pulse hard against your uncovered touch.

It's startling. It's something you didn't mean to do. Fear grips you immediately; dread rises as your stomach falls. You are as quick to let go of them as your eyes are to look them in the eye and...

Nothing.

While, it wouldn't come as a shock to either Vere or Ais. Kuras, who the main character wouldn't know is an angel at this point, and Mhin are another eyebrow raiser for sure. It didn't affect them, when you know it should. If it doesn't affect them... that would only make the MC raise many more questions about Leander in turn. Ah, what a dramatic way to reveal the fact that the person you fancy is a monster.

Other notes and thoughts:

While, yes, an interesting idea to think about. I'm torn between wanting the monsters to be immune and 'fuck it, this curse affects everyone, even your pet rock ain't safe'. I can't help but feel this idea also lowers the stakes of the MC's curse... if done wrong.

Let's say this, the curse doesn't have an effect on monsters, right? But for each monsterous LI there will be a catch. Say, Vere, for example; a monster who lusts for power beyond him... having a human like yourself with such a deadly curse, well, who's to say it wouldn't give him a few ideas on how to use you it. What? You're still planning on finding a cure? Oh no, but you have him now, don't you? Why need a cure when you have him, your curse, and your soon-to-be mindless worshippers at your feet?

(Won't lie writing some of Vere's points made me think of Leander, but that's manipulation for you)

Or think Kuras, a doctor, an angel who passed through the shroud to watch over humanity. How would Kuras feel if the person he's grown so close to decides their curse isn't worth getting rid of now that you have him— can't you see the danger in yourself anymore?

Or try with, like some previous theories once said for us touching Leander: it doesn't affect him now... but eventually he will devolve into madness like the rest of everyone. But don't just apply that to Leander, now think of everyone else. Imagine finally finding someone you can touch without consequences. It's something that gets your blood rushing and heart pounting with a feeling your haven't felt in a while! However... the more and more you do so, you've noticed they've changed. They're more irritated, they've been having more headaches than normal, and their once beautiful smile twists into something dreadfully familiar. Congratulations, you've made your beloved mad with love! Here's the bad ending! Yipee!

Really, in the end it's all a balancing act, the stake were there and you don't want to take them away before the climax. If you do, place something else in its steed— something to raise them even further than what was initially thought possible.

[buttered-milky]

Russingon being an incestuous couple is so fucking interesting to me for what it represents narratively. (Yes, I know they are not canonically a couple. No, I do not care, because I do believe the coding is on purpose. Even if it’s accidental, it’s still there.)

If you don’t have a lot of experience with incest in other fiction (for example: the staple gothic horror), incest usually represents deviance. That’s just what it says on the tin: diverting from norms. Usually in a bad way. Deviance can be narratively treated as bad or wrong, and there is plenty of deviance from our meta societal norms with these two, but I digress. I don’t want to talk about that today.

I want to talk about subversion, and the deviance that is sometimes good, actually, and the message that sometimes you must break norms to do good.

[PS guys if you read all this and want to add your thoughts please do! This is kind of half-baked and I’d love to see more opinions because I’ve not seen anyone talk about this much.]

They are so fucking fascinating, because they are deviant! They are! Their entire relationship is baffling politically because of the Finwëan house feuds. More importantly, they have individual deviances that this relationship is telling you to pick up on.

.

Maedhros is a Kinslayer. Maedhros is also arguably the most heroic one of his siblings.

.

No, we can’t burn the ships. How the fuck are we gonna get Fingon over here?

No, I have to go parley with Morgoth.

I have to abdicate the crown because I’m becoming something I don’t want to be.

No, I have to put myself in front of everyone else. I have to hold Himring so the rest of Beleriand doesn’t get nuked.

I have to summon everyone for the Nirnaeth.

.

And then after Fingon dies in the Nirnaeth, Maedhros (as we all know) goes fully off the rails—which is to say, he becomes fully Fëanorian. He goes back to the norm for his family.

There are more Kinslayings. He tries once to save two twin children, and that’s it. He gives up. There is no more hope. Maglor is responsible for taking in the next set. Maglor also wants to beg the Valar for forgiveness, and maybe Maedhros would’ve seen the sense in that once, but instead he becomes the second coming of his father and dies burning, clutching onto his Oath.

The deviance from Fëanorian standards was the only thing keeping him from becoming a monster for all that time.

.

Fingon is also (very likely) a Kinslayer. He’s also the family extrovert and hope incarnate.

Unlike Aredhel and Turgon, he does not seclude himself for his own protection. He does the opposite.

.

No, we can’t just stay here in Aman. We need to protect the other half of our people??

No, we actually have to get Maedhros. Fine, I’ll do it myself then. I’ll reach out to the gods while I’m at it, since none of you will.

Of course we’re going to join every battle. Of course we’re going to help hold down Beleriand.

If I have to face evil alone I suppose I will, then.

.

And he dies when he’s alone against those Balrogs. Fingon is also like his father in many ways—but in some ways he is not. He is brighter, sometimes. He is hope incarnate in the worst of places.

.

I’m far from the first person to acknowledge that what Maedhros and Fingon have going on is a very strong message to never give up hope. But like—not just that. What kills me is that, you know, the hope and the heroism and the goodness is the deviance.

They like each other while most of the Noldor are off getting doomed or fighting with their relatives. You get to those little bits where it mentions Maedhros and Fingon still keeping up their friendship and you kind of have to think “damn, at least some people still genuinely love each other in the midst of all this horror.” It’s sweet. And yet it’s deviant.

And that’s weird, right? Usually deviance is bad. But I think here it’s more neutral. Just presented as: this is not the common option, not the norm. It’s not the common option, but it leads to one of the kinder relationships in the Silm.

The Silm wants you, the reader, to take away that you should have hope and goodness, even when everything around you is hell. Even when it is the hard option. When it becomes hardest to hold up light and help others, that is when it’s needed most.

It will be scary sometimes to be hopeful, and that’s okay. It will be scary to extend yourself. It will be scary to trust and to defend others. That’s okay. Do it fucking scared and keep doing it.

[my-adhd-gremlin-blog]

I am as disappointed as everyone else is with the final season of The Umbrella Academy, but I also have some of my own Thoughts™️. Allow me to weigh in.

We can all agree that the finale was absolute dogshit, right? I've seen a lot of commentary about the character assassination of Number Five, and the cursed as fuck crack ship that should've stayed in the deep recesses of ao3, where no one could find it. But there was also absolutely no character development for any of them in the end? Not really?

Luther still has unresolved daddy issues (why else would he be squatting in the condemned building of the Academy?). And he just, what, gave up looking for his wife? Luther "loverboy" Hargreeves. The man who chased and pined for Allison almost his entire life gave up on HIS WIFE after/within six years? No way.

Diego's character basically went nowhere. Four seasons, and he still didn't come to any kind of realisation that, hey, maybe he is enough. No. If he isn't in Luther's shadow, he's insecure about his marriage, or his powers, and being "strong enough." Everything was a competition to him, even though he was the only one competing. He deserved a little bit of self-love, but apparently, "self-destruct" is all he gets.

Allison had her ups and downs, and they let her end on a fucking down? Her arch was the most disappointing. We literally see her trying to be a better, more honest person in s1, and then a human rights activist in s2. Her powers are morally grey, sure, but she had so much potential. Then she just straight up becomes a villain and has barely any redemption for it? Her character started on a high. It was natural progression for her to hit a low. But not that low. And she never really came back up from it. In six years, it seemed like she made no real effort to make up for what she did. A couple of good decisions do not make up for a multitude of bad ones.

Which brings me to Klaus. I wasn't sold on sober, germaphobe Klaus to begin with. I thought it was just a little bit too out of character. But I'll take that any day than what happened to him this season. And to his credit, his hypochondria after losing his powers at least made sense. But he'd made so much progress, not just on his sobriety but on embracing his powers rather than being afraid. (Also, he and Allison being codependent on each other like that was not healthy).

This season made Ben, as a character, pretty much pointless. From the beginning, it seemed like his death was supposed to bring the Academy together, narratively speaking. It was his "purpose" to die and become a sort of martyr to his siblings (I mean, it didn't work, so even then, Ben kinda died unnecessarily). But in reality, his death wasn't a teachable moment, it was just murder. And without Ben, the story still would have ended the same way. Any of the children born from the marigold could have brought about the cleanse, it didn't necessarily HAVE to be Ben. And with the number of timelines there were, it was probably inevitable that it would happen in at least one of them. They all died pointlessly, but Ben's deaths were especially pointless.

Viktor was about the only character that DID have some development. He finally stood up to his father and received at least some validation for his mistreatment as a kid. Not that it ended up mattering because his relationship with his siblings was practically non-existent at this point. All he'd ever wanted was to be a part of the team, and yet apparently made no effort in six years to see his siblings and actually be a part of the family. It makes no sense for his character.

I hate that Lila was a damsel in distress for most of this season. She's a grown woman who we know is fully capable of standing up for herself, but it felt like she was reduced to just her role in the family. I'm not saying there is anything wrong with being a mother or a wife, but that seemed to be ALL her character was this season, when we know she's more than that. The one thing she got to herself was taken away from her coz it hurt "poor Diego's feelings 🥺". Grow up 🙄. And I am not touching the other thing with a ten foot barge pole.

Now, obviously, there's Five. People have already talked about how his character was completely butchered this season. No, Five of the past would not have given up so easily. Despite the jabs and the squabbling, Five loved his family. He fought hard to get back to them when he was stranded. After a struggle like that, why the fuck WOULD he stop fighting to keep his family together?

I'm not saying all of these characters had to be good, outstanding citizens by the end of the show. But they should have at least had a journey from season one. Instead, they either went backwards or in circles. And in the end, none of it mattered anyway.

This season was so fucking stupid. It completely undermined the rest of the story. What was the point in literally anything that happened in the previous seasons if it was just leading up to all of it being erased? This is some, "and it was all a dream" bullshit, and I'm not here for it.

[euseokz]

for the better - pt.1 : ex-boyfriend! eunseok ft. boyfriend! shotaro . cws : toxic relationship . rough and messy sex . spitting . spanking . wc : 1.1k+ . genre : angst, smut

EX-BOYFRIEND! EUNSEOK who, even after you have supposedly moved on from him, still won’t leave your mind.

your relationship with eunseok was hard. you’d fight a lot, constantly finding something to disagree on, always annoyed at the other for something but somehow always going back to each other. at times you’d try to convince yourself that it wasn’t so bad, that maybe the constant bickering and arguing was bearable because you knew that your feelings for each other were true, that you did actually love and care for each other — but eventually you had to accept that you were wrong, because the constant walking on eggshells on both parts, the always wanting to avoid to set each other off because you knew that if a fight ensued you also wouldn’t shut up, was too much. sometimes you’d wonder if you two were just too different to make it work, but in all truthfulness, you were actually too similar. you’d both get angry over pesky things, and you both couldn’t hold your words back if you got even just the slightest bit fired up.

even if you felt shame over it, sometimes you missed it, missed someone who was on the same level as you and wouldn’t back down just like you, the thrill of it something you were probably addicted to, even if it meant you were a little bit sick for it. that was why you stuck with eunseok for so long in the first place, but then you broke up, both of you having already known that was something bound to happen eventually but not having expected for it to come so soon. it was hard to accept, but you did, and moved on — or at least you tried.

at some point you met shotaro, and he was truly like a breath of fresh air. he wasn’t nearly as argumentative as eunseok, quite the opposite actually: any time he saw you getting fired up he wouldn’t respond by also having the same reaction, instead talking to you softly until you too had calmed down. you appreciated it, the not having to always be ready to yell, the knowing he’d always try to understand your side instead of being stubborn and sticking to his ideas until the end. you really adored that in shotaro, how peaceful he could make you feel, but deep down, in some part of you that you'd never admit existed, you also missed eunseok. they were polar opposites, so missing your ex, your first love, the one you experienced so much with, while being with your current boyfriend probably shouldn't be a surprise, but it still left you feeling incredibly guilty, as if you were betraying shotaro just for thinking of eunseok.

shotaro was supposed to be your dream guy, and everyone told you just that, that you should treasure him and appreciate his patience, be grateful that he tried to help you improve where you were flawed instead of only making it worse. he was a blessing, people would also say you, and you would have to be incredibly dumb to mess things up with him, especially if the reason was that you still probably had feelings for eunseok — so why did you feel so inclined towards it? to self-sabotage and ruin things with shotaro so that you could maybe have another chance with eunseok? it was messed up, and you knew it, and that only added to your guilt, but you couldn’t control it.

maybe shotaro was great, maybe he was everything you actually needed in a partner, but he wasn’t what you wanted, what you craved.

you wanted eunseok’s roughness, how you two would yell each other, say things with the purpose of hurting one another until it all got too much and you’d just fully crash, lips pressing against each other harshly, almost painfully, your teeth clanking amidst the kiss and the way you held each other far too strong, some sort of faint bruise always accidentally left behind. eunseok would fuck you hard, would smack his hips against yours without any mercy, almost selfishly, as if he was only thinking of his own pleasure, and he’d dig his fingers into your skin to hold you in place without any account for the amount of strength he was actually applying. he’d spit at you, globs of saliva staining your sore cunt, your inner thighs, even your cheeks, only smiling pleased when you did the same to him, spitting at his face or in his mouth, the messiness of it only making you both want it faster, harder, desperate for anything more. it was nasty, filthy, and absolutely everything that shotaro would never be able to give you, because shotaro was soft. he’d never spit on you or spank you as hard as eunseok, he liked to hold you gently, to kiss you softly, and although you liked it, it wasn’t enough. you liked how everything between you and eunseok was a constant dispute, how if he yelled at you you’d yell louder at him, how if he slapped you across the face while fucking you you’d retribute without thinking twice, and with shotaro that was completely absent.

shotaro would touch you gently, his fingers almost feather life as they ran up your thighs, keeping them spread for him so he could fuck you well, his cock dragging in and out of you in a steady pace while he pressed fleeting kisses on your face, whispering small praises when he sped up, telling you how good you were for him, how well you took him, and then he was finally going faster, pistoning into you until you had both reached your highs. it was good, and in some parts it left you satisfied, but you missed eunseok’s carelessness and that felt so incredibly wrong it almost burned you from the inside out.

in the end, you knew you couldn’t end things with shotaro, not because your craving for what eunseok gave you was gone, but because you couldn’t bring yourself to break the heart of someone you cared for — because you did care about him, you loved him, the only part absent in your relationship the messiness eunseok brought into your previous one. maybe you had to accept that shotaro wasn’t like that, that he wasn’t selfish or argumentative and that he would never want to treat you like that (even if you wanted it), and maybe that wasn’t all so bad, maybe that was what you needed even if you didn’t want to admit, so you started focusing only on shotaro, on the good parts, on how happy he made you, how secure being with him felt, how warm and comforting he was, continuing to try to ignore the urge that would sometimes creep up to go after eunseok again.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Sorry, just this little ficlet, and then I'll continue taking my break. I actually got some progress made on my WIP . . . Whoops, I accidentally wrote a little bit of smut. It was supposed to be just an accidental kiss.

18+ MINORS DNI

Eddie and Steve were friends. To them, they were like Steve and Robin, bound by trauma whilst being completely platonic. Oh, how very wrong they were. The realization came to them by complete accident. Eddie and his band finally had a gig that had a crowd a lot bigger than the crowd back in Hawkins. Corroded Coffin was playing at a decently sized bar just outside of Indianapolis. Steve and Robin were the only ones who could get away. Well, Robin had happily invited Vickie along with them, too. The three of them cheered when Eddie walked up to the mic and threw up devil horns in their direction. The horns slowly dropped, however, when he saw what they were wearing. All three of them were wearing homemade Corroded Coffin t-shirts, and they were all bright pink. He scowled at them and began to play.

Steve was thrilled to watch him play. He couldn't be more delighted at the sight of his friend ruling the stage. . .fucking owning the stage is what he was doing. Steve’s heart rate skyrocketed as he watched Eddie's long hair flow backward, exposing his throat as he tilted his head back. Eddie's crop top was drenched with sweat, and droplets ran down his stomach. God, Steve wanted to lick it. Wait. . .what? Before he could question that thought, the show ended, and Eddie was leaving the stage. Steve had to go see him.

"You go, we have to pee," Vickie said, her eyes shining.

Steve scoffed and waved them off. He knew exactly what they were going to do. Steve went into the back, only to find that Eddie wasn't with the rest of the band.

"Yeah, Eddie's in the back office there. He's getting out his excess energy. He was scaring Frankie again," Gareth said.

"I am NOT scared of Eddie, asshole," Frankie muttered.

They hadn't been kidding about Eddie's energy levels. He was practically bouncing off the walls when Steve walked into the room. He threw himself into Steve’s arms and hugged him tightly before pulling back. He was beaming like the sun.

"So, what'd you think?" Eddie asked.

"You were awesome, man! If this is what metal sounds like when you play it, then I could listen to it all of the time," Steve said.

Eddie grabbed his face and pressed a hard, grateful kiss to Steve’s lips. When he felt Steve tense up in surprise, he pulled back, his face red.

"Sorry, I don't know where that came from," Eddie said, and Steve gazed at him for a moment, his mouth open.

"Don't be," Steve quickly. "It was a, uh, nice kiss. Very nice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck, I liked it too."

And that's how Steve found himself pressed up against the wall of the office, Eddie's mouth against his in a hungry kiss. God, it felt like Eddie was trying to devour him. Maybe he was, and maybe he wanted to be devoured by him. Was that what that feeling was? Yeah, he knew it. It wasn't any different than when he had strong feelings for a girl, but it was different in a way that felt more final, like he didn't want to kiss anyone else ever again. Maybe that's why he chose to ignore it all these many months that they had spent hanging out together.

Steve moaned as Eddie's hands wandered up his shirt. Eddie cupped his pecs, his thumbs brushing over his nipples and working them as he moved his lips to Steve’s neck. Steve cursed. Suddenly, Eddie's hands were back over his shirt again. They gripped the collar of the shirt tightly as Eddie moved back. He tore the shirt cleanly down the middle.

"Pink, really?" Eddie asked, and Steve grinned wickedly. "I knew you did that shirt on purpose. Bad Boy. Don't worry, I have a couple shirts I brought with me. You can wear one of mine."

Eddie's eyes darkened at the thought of Steve wearing his clothes. He slipped the rest of the shirt off of him before tearing off his own shirt. Steve gripped his hips, pushing him backward until Eddie's legs hit the back of the small couch. Eddie sat down, and Steve straddled him. Steve’s hand dove in between Eddie's legs and cupped Eddie's clothed hard on. Eddie moaned and cursed Steve’s name as he pressed his hand further against him.

"Goddamn it! Fuck you, Steve," Eddie cursed again.

"So, you don't want my hand inside of your pants. . .hand pressed against your hard cock. . .hard just for me, huh?" Steve whispered in his ear.

The image of Eddie with his head tossed back, just like he was now, on stage fueled the fire that was burning inside of Steve. His tight pants were constricting him. They almost hurt.

"Yes! Fuck! I want you to touch me!" Eddie exclaimed and whispered.

Steve unbuttoned his own pants before doing the same with Eddie's. He wanted to stroke their dicks at the same time. Once this fire was lit, it seemed difficult to put out. Steve had slipped his hand into Eddie's pants when the door burst open. Robin came in with Vickie. Everyone froze. Robin stared at Steve and Eddie. They stared back at her while Vickie backed away slowly out of the room.

"This is exactly what it looks like," Eddie said, Steve’s hand still down his pants.

"What the hell?! I thought the three of us were all platonic with a capital p!" Robin exclaimed.

"Sorry," Steve said, not looking sorry at all.

"It's alright," Robin said softly. "I'll forgive you since you're being queer and all. Eddie finish getting fucked by my best friend and buys us some drinks. You owe us for scarring my girlfriend."

"I'm not scarred! I think it's great! I just didn't want to see it!" Vickie hollered.

"Bless her, she's delusional," Robin said and backed out of the room.

"Tell Gareth to bring us some shirts!" Eddie hollered.

Steve climbed off Eddie, laughing with them as he collapsed next to him.

"Ugh, she ruined the mood," Steve complained.

"Yeah. . .so, queer, huh?" Eddie asked.

"Well, what we did definitely wasn't straight," Steve said and they laughed.

The door opened and Gareth came in with his eyes shut.

"Robin said that I should close my eyes because there's something scary going on in here. Eddie. . .did you really try and fight Steve? We told you before you can't take him," Gareth said. "Even in a hypothetical fight."

Eddie scowled and crossed his arms while Steve struggled to contain his laughter. He watched with a fond smile as Eddie pouted, his bottom lip jutting out. He had really been buried deep in his denial because how could he have possibly thought that he and Eddie were just friends?

[planet-dusk]

of cats 'n' dogs // l.mh

all you want for christmas is to try your hand at taking control in bed. you didn't think your unwavering boyfriend would agree; but what he didn't expect was to enjoy it this much.

⛓️ PAIRING :: lee minho x f!reader

⛓️ GENRE :: smut

⛓️ WORD COUNT :: 2.2k

⛓️ WARNINGS :: dom!minho tries subbing, bratty sub!minho, soft dom!mc, praise, bondage, oral (m + f), edging, unprotected sex, cum eating, descriptions of subspace

⛓️ NOTE :: 18+ minors dni. the characters don't represent real people. this is fiction for entertainment purposes only. don't edit, copy, repost or otherwise steal my content.

📍 skz masterlist

“Stop teasing," Minho groans when you lick a wet stripe from his navel to the waistband of his shorts. 

"Why? You told me I could do anything I want today, kitten." 

He rolls his eyes at the pet name but you notice the way the tips of his ears turn red. Normally, you’d be in his position: strapped to the bed and at his mercy. He’s always been the dominant person in your relationship (at least between the sheets) so you aren’t expecting him to give in without a fight. He might’ve agreed to this but that doesn’t mean he’s going to offer himself to you on a silver platter. 

And if he thinks you don’t have it in you? Then he’s dead wrong. And you’re determined to prove it. 

“Either way you don’t have much of a say in this. Unless you want to use your safeword?” 

Minho rolls his eyes again. “Continue.”

You ignore his command, moving back up his torso to swirl your tongue around one of his nipples. 

“What are you—ah!—doing?” He kicks his head back when you tug the sensitive bud between your teeth. 

“I thought you’d have more self control than this.” 

“And I thought you’d be all over my cock by now.”

You grin and palm him through his shorts, delighted by the way his eyes widen. “You’re liking this a little too much, aren’t you?” 

“Just a compulsory physical reaction. You’re near me, I get hard.” He shrugs. “Pavlov.”

“I’m sure those dogs were better at following orders, though.”

He grimaces. “Less talking and more—” he gasps when you squeeze his cock again, “—of that.” 

“Hmm, love it when you beg.”

“I didn’t—”

The words die on his tongue when you wrap your lips around his clothed length, mouthing at the head. You can faintly taste the precum that’s wetting the fabric of his shorts. You’ve been teasing him for nearly an hour now, never touching him below the belt. He must be so hard it’s starting to hurt; his heightened senses send in overdrive by the sudden contact even with the layer of cotton in between. 

You might’ve teased him about his self control earlier but you’re impressed by how long he’s holding out. He’s right; if the roles were reversed you would’ve started begging for his cock a long time ago. The only thing keeping you from straddling him right now is your conviction. You’re thankful he’s restrained so he can’t feel or see the wetness pooling between your thighs. 

You’re starting to understand why he enjoys being a dom this much.

You trace the outline of his erection with your tongue until the fabric is soaked with spit. Minho’s tugging at his cuffs, clearly affected even if he tries his hardest to hold back his moans. 

“Just—fuck.” He sounds exasperated now. “Just touch me.”

“I’m touching you.”

You suck a dark bruise into his thigh. They’re so big and strong you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the day between them. Looking up at him with innocent eyes, the scowl you receive in return communicates something along the lines of you know what I mean. 

“I’ll take them off when you’re a good boy. Behave.” 

“So I really am the dog in this little experiment of yours, aren’t I.”

“I liked calling you kitten but I suppose pup could work.” You trace the muscles in his thigh with one hand before giving the flesh a harsh slap, making him yelp. You watch it jiggle while his cock twitches at the same time. Another tiny crack in his demeanor you file away for later. “Now are you gonna comply or do I have to put a muzzle on you?”

“Fine,” he mutters. He stares at the ceiling as if he’s never seen a more interesting surface before. 

You halt, suddenly unsure of what to do. Did he really give in? Or is this another scheme of his? 

“Well?” He squints down at you. “Cat got your tongue?”

And just like that he’s flipping the script again. You mentally scold yourself for hesitating. It feels like he’s always one step ahead of you. You’re inexperienced when it comes to playing this role and he knows it. 

You need a more direct approach. 

“No cats here.” You make a show of sticking your tongue out as far as you can, dragging it over his thigh. “The dog may get one more chance, though.” You suck another bruise into his skin before pulling back. “If he stops barking.”

“And what if he doesn’t?” 

You ignore him, no longer feeling like giving in to his endless quips. You can almost hear the cogs turning inside his head as he tries to figure out your next move. 

From the way he moans when you suddenly wrap your lips around his clothed cock and bite down, this wasn’t what he was anticipating. 

“I’ve changed my mind. Let me hear you.”

Your fingers tug at the waistband of his shorts while you mouth at his tip. He whimpers louder and you reward him by dragging his shorts down his thighs until his cock springs free. 

It seems your intent has finally caught on because the high-pitched, whiny sound he makes when you tongue at his slit is nothing short of sinful. You kitten-lick his swollen head and swipe your tongue along his shaft from base to tip with long strokes. He chases your mouth with his hips as much as the cuffs around his ankles and wrists allow, clearly vexed by not being able to set the pace or touch you. 

“You’re doing so well,” you coo, cupping his balls. “Such a good little pup.” 

His squirming stills and you look up to find his cheeks flushing a deep red. 

Of course. Praise. After all the times he got flustered when on the receiving end of a compliment you should’ve known it would translate to the bedroom as well. But when he’s in his usual dom persona there aren’t many chances for you to praise him until after the act. 

You smirk and stroke his cock slowly. “Oh, so that’s what the big bad wolf likes? Being a cute needy pup for me?”

Minho is watching the ceiling again. “Maybe I just want to cum.” 

“Don’t you wanna be good for me, baby?” you murmur as you collect his precum with your thumb to spread it over his velvety skin. “Keep being such a good boy and I’ll ride you, might even let you fill me up, how does that sound?”

Careful not to hurt him you suck on his balls, taking them into your mouth while your hand slides along his cock. He’s more vocal now; letting out low groans and high-pitched whimpers when you press your tongue against his perineum. 

“That’s it, you sound so pretty like this.” Your grip around his length tightens when you see how responsive he is. “You’re beautiful. My Christmas present. I’ve always wanted a puppy,” you tease while your other hand circles his rim. 

It’s true. And with his hair mussed, cheeks flushed and skin covered in bite marks he looks absolutely delectable. His cock feels heavy in your fist and you can’t wait to sink down on it. You have to press your thighs together to find some relief for the ache between your legs. 

“I’m gonna—fuck—” Minho croaks suddenly and you let go of his cock, watching it twitch against his stomach as his impending orgasm recedes. His head falls back against the pillow. “I was so close.” His eyes squeeze shut when you slip out of your panties and straddle him, dragging your wet cunt over his swollen cock. “Ahh—please—”

“What did you say, pup?” You cup his cheek. “I can’t hear you.”

“Please, no more teasing,” he pleads. You recognize the glassy look in his eyes. It’s the same look you see reflected back at you in the mirror after he’s had his way with you. “I’ll be good, I—” 

He tugs at the cuffs in frustration, unable to form words. You bend over to press a kiss to his mouth. His bottom lip is swollen from his teeth clamping down on it repeatedly. “Shh, gonna give my pup what he wants, okay? You’ve been so good. Gonna take care of you now, don’t worry.”

You moan in unison when you finally sink down on his cock, his hips flush against your ass. Even without prep there is no resistance; your body has been craving this ever since you stepped into bed. 

“You feel so good,” you whisper against his lips. “Pup’s got such a big cock, stretching me out so well. Never wanna get off. Want you inside of me all the time.” 

Minho has never felt this floaty. There’s a static buzz in his ears as his entire world shrinks down to your voice and the feeling of your warm walls wrapped around him. 

The meek whimpers he lets out at your words are addicting. His eyes roll back when you start grinding your hips in slow circles, your clit rubbing against his pelvic bone. “Look down. Look at how well you fill me up.”

He does as you say, captivated by your pussy sucking in his cock as you start bouncing on it. After getting so close earlier you know he won’t last long if you keep riding him like this. And since you’re not used to him being restrained you miss the feeling of his hands on your body. 

“Listen, pup.” His eyes snap up to yours, big and round and pupils blown so wide nearly all you can see is black. “I’m gonna untie you and then you’re gonna make me cum on your pretty cock like a good boy, okay?”

He nods, whining when you get off to loosen the cuffs. You press a quick kiss to his lips. You didn’t expect him to become this non-verbal after his initial mouthiness. You’re so accustomed to his constant witty remarks (both in and outside of the bedroom) this sudden change in demeanor is worrying you a little. 

“Everything okay, pup?” you ask, massaging his wrists. “Color?”

“Green,” he answers, kicking off his shorts. “It’s… going to be a lot to process, but I feel good. I trust you.”

You smile and press another kiss to his lips.

“It’ll be yellow if I don’t get to cum soon, though.”

You laugh at his cheeky grin. It’s good to see his wittiness is still intact. 

“Watch your tone, pup. Or I’ll cuff your hands behind your back and make you eat me out for another hour.”

Minho groans. “I’ll take all the pussy I can get.”

“So desperate,” you recline against the sheets and guide his cock between your legs. “I like it.”

He follows you without a word, closing his eyes when he sinks back between your velvety walls. You feel so wet and warm around him he has to use all his strength to keep himself from blowing his load as soon as he starts moving. His head drops into the crook of your neck and you wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

“Who would’ve thought my fierce kitty could be such a good pup?” you hum into his ear. He likes to pretend otherwise even though he’s never been anything but soft. So all of this doesn’t really come as a surprise, but you revel in the way your words make his hips stutter. 

“And good pups deserve a reward.” You tug his earlobe between your teeth. It earns a low groan from him. “Do you want to choose yours?” 

Minho can feel himself slipping away again. He leans back and his unfocused eyes take you in. “Wanna fill you up…” he trails off, searching for the right words. “And eat you out after.” 

“You don’t have to—” you start but he cuts you off. He grabs your hips and tilts them so he can thrust into you deeper. The new angle has the head of his cock brushing against your most sensitive spot and you moan at the sudden pleasure flooding your body. It’s only a taste of what he can do but it feels fucking delicious already. 

“I want to,” he assures. “Let me make you feel good, wanna cum, please—”

You’ve never seen him this desperate before. His brows are tightly knit together. His voice is wavering. You realize he’s waiting for your approval—no doubt using all his willpower to keep himself from reaching his high while your tight hole clenches around his cock. The knowledge he’s handing this power to you is almost enough to send you over the edge. 

“Cum for me, pup,” you order and he does so with a sob, spilling his warm seed inside of you with a few short strokes. He stays there for a moment, trembling as you wrap your arms around him and kiss his temple. You let him catch his breath until he wriggles himself out of your hold to settle between your spread thighs. 

You feel his cum dribble out of you until it’s intercepted by his flat tongue sweeping through your folds. You whimper when he sucks on your clit and pushes his face closer into your cunt. 

“I’ll be your good pup,” he grins while he sinks two of his fingers into your hole, “then you can be my kitten again.”

[chrisrin]

Is karkat going to go through a similar arc as peridot?

Karkat's arc is a bit of a mix between Amethyst and Peridot, but both sorts of flipped on their heads!

The idea with Karkat is that he's a Jasper who woke up too early. Unlike Amethyst who woke up too late, Karkat emerges from his hole some hundred years before he's supposed to. The planet is incubating and not being super closely monitored because everything's all set and they're just waiting for the gems to grow. This leaves Karkat pretty much alone on a desolate, dark, dying planet.

He wishes for nothing more than to go back to sleep, he tries to crawl back into his hole multiple times waiting for consciousness to slip, but he can't go back to "keep growing" after he's emerged.

The longer you wait, the more your mind fills. It’d be wrong to call them memories, you didn’t exist before, so they can’t be memories. 

Purpose. What your purpose should be. You’re a Jasper, you’re a Quartz, made for war. You’re a soldier, you’re a warrior for Homeworld. You’re supposed to be big and strong, ready to fight for your creators, for your Diamond.

You’re supposed to fit your hole. You can’t.

So he makes a life of wandering the planet. It's cold and boring, so fucking boring, and he thinks a lot about what he could do. He thinks about how he's a failure to the Diamonds, swapping between fear of being discovered here and wanting nothing more than to interact and talk with another sentient being.

Unbeknownst to Karkat, another group of gems nears the Kindergarten. The Alpha Kids are a small group of rebel gems who stole a ship off Homeworld. Upon needing to stock up on supplies, Roxy locates an incubating Kindergarten that is long enough in its cycle for no gems to inhabit the planet, but early enough that they can still retrieve what they need. They land on the Kindergarten and Karkat eavesdrops, stunned to be witnessing actual living real people.

But Karkat realizes what they are, when he listens in and realizes that they're traitors.

He sees this as an opportunity. If he can turn these rebels in, then the Diamonds won't shatter him! He won't be a failure!

So he boards the ship, sneaking on as a stowaway. Roxy almost immediately finds him and it turns into that little scene.

Jane and Roxy convince Dirk to let Karkat live and stay aboard, and Karkat stays locked up in one of the rooms. He's like a little hissy cat, but he's also completely overwhelmed and overstimulated just being around things that aren't the Kindergarten.

With a lot of time and a lot of slowly building trust, Karkat starts to warm up to the Alpha Kids and eventually becomes a proper part of their squad.

[calisources]

AMC'S INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE SENTENCE STARTERS . a selection of quotes from the amc's adaptation of interview with the vampire. change pronouns/names accordingly as you see fit.

Do you know the secret to immortality?

I have loved you with all myself.

You irritate me. Your very presence irritates me.

A last dance before the feast.

(name), I would like you to meet the vampire Armand, the love of my life.

The vampire bond. There is no human equivalent. It's a bond that can never fully be severed.

Lover. Murderer. Maker. You took him back.

You took (name) back.

I was someone I don't want to be anymore. I've changed.

She's grown very protective of me. That's what this is. It's why it's hard.

She came back altered when she left us. There's a darkness in her that wasn't there before.

Write me a song, put your lover's voice on it. What the fuck is wrong with your head?

You don't need me. You think you do. But you don't. You're smarter now. You see trouble coming a mile away.

You're ugly when you act like that.

Better ugly than blind.

Once you put it out there, they decide what it is. It can get away from you.

You're not my (name). You can't be.

You kill like a, like a killer.

All vampires are born out of drama. We made her out of remorse. Out of selfishness.

Poor, dear. She wasn't held enough in between ritualistic murders.

Who am I supposed to love? You two have each other.

You are chronicling a suicide. Do not look down on Claudia. Look in the mirror.

He don't give good answers to questions. And he sits on the truth like it's his chair or something. I thought we weren't supposed to keep secrets.

Young, strong, and likely to fight back. You must be most ferocious.

Remember this. His face as it melts. This is why we never get close to mortals because sooner or later, they end up dead.

Do you ever think that we, that's to say, our kind, were put on Earth for a larger purpose?

I'm a vampire.

 I heard your hearts dancing!

From time to time, I like a little variety. There, I said it.

A fish that doesn't swim. A bird refusing flight. You're going to struggle. I have faith in the feline population of New Orleans.

Hunting is an art. You have the power to subdue anyone you want, but sometimes restraint is your most powerful weapon.

There is one thing about being a vampire that I must fear above all else, and that is loneliness.

You can't imagine the emptiness. The void. Stretching out for decades at a time. You take this feeling away from me, (name). We must stay together.

Don't expect every reader to swallow that one.

 I'm assuming you only met at night.

It's New Orleans. Days are for sleeping off the previous evening's damage.

 I've seen death over and over and over and over again. It's boring.

That'll make a great blurb.

Don't do that shit here! Not with my family.

I was being hunted. And I was completely unaware it was happening.

Yeah, well, mortality beats a heavy drum.

So, (name), how long have you been dead?

The rage you must feel as you choke on your sorrow.

Fifty years later, you talk like he was your soul mate, like you were locked in some fucked up gothic romance.

[getmeoutofhell]

Mickey Altieri x f reader

summary: mickey has a gift for you.

warnings: just mickey being mickey.

a/n: this takes place with the whole gf group. but this is for my BFF helloooo frennn. also happy eve y’all!!

“Merry christmas everyone!!” you said as you walked into the living room.

you were so excited today, the reason being is because you had mickey for secret santa.

“merry christmas y/n.” ethan said to you, handing you a small bag which you assumed was a gift from him.

“you dumb brain we aren’t supposed to do the secret santa until after we eat!” roman told him, slightly annoyed.

“ohhh right, my bad. sorry y/n pretend this never happened.” ethan then walked away to the christmas tree to put his gift back on the floor.

“okay ethan.” you said in between laughter.

you had your gift in your hand. no surprise you actually pulled mickeys name for the secret santa. you thought he some how did it on purpose, but you didn’t question it.

you and mickey had pretty strong feelings for each other for a while. you wouldn’t say he loved you, but you knew you loved him.

you saw stu put his gift on the floor under the tree, hiding it behind a bigger present.

“i know i was supposed to just get one gift. but the person i got deserves more than one.”

you knew immediately he picked billy or ambers name.

“you must have gotten billy or ambers name since you saying they deserve more than one.”

stu then put his index finger to his lips, making a shh sound and waking away. you playfully rolled your eyes at him.

“oh my god what’s that smell?” it was jill. she came and sat next to you in the couch.

“it’s mickey, charlie, and richie burning up the fucking turkey.” roman told her.

“that does stink damn.” you said, laughing at the end.

“no surprise it’s those three.” jill added.

*time skip 1 hour*

“okay guys, it’s time to come eat at the table. hurry up!” roman yelled to everybody.

you went and sat at the seat close to the end of the table. to your surprise mickey came and sat next to you.

“hey beautiful.” he smiled at you.

“oh! hey mickey, merry christmas.” you felt your body get a little warm from embarrassment, so you tried to avoid eye contact with him. no matter how many times you guys talked, his voice still make you a nervous wreck.

“merry christmas y/n.” you notice he had a christmas hat on, with an ugly sweater.

“nice sweater.” you tried to avoid the awkwardness with a joking compliment.

“thanks.” he chuckled.

about 5 seconds later everyone else started walking in the room, finding a seat to sit in.

ethan sat on your right, as mickey was on your left.

a little bit later, charlie and roman brought out the turkey and ham and sat them on the table. then went back into the kitchen and grabbed to rest of the food.

“thank god the food is done, i’m literally starving.” amber said. “that turkey looks and smells burnt.” jill stated, looking at it with disgust.

“let’s be nice jill, i bet they tried their best, right mickey?” you turned to mickey, waiting for an answer. “uhhh, yes?” you laughed.

“i guess not then, continue the slander jill.” jill laughed at your comment.

“okay guys let’s now eat.” roman told everyone.

as your enjoying your food, you look over at mickey, who was already looking at you. “is something wrong?” you asked concerned.

“do you know how pretty you are? like seriously.” he smiles. you feel your whole face get hot and you look away and avoid eye contact once again. “uhhh, i don’t know what to say to that. thanks i guess?” he then puts his hand on yours, rubbing it softly.

stu notices, and makes a shocked face. “ohhhh, the two love bugs are back at it.” he laughed and then stuffed his face with more food.

you felt your body heat up again, staring at your plate nervously. you turned to look at mickey, who’s face was a tiny bit red. “don’t do the most stu.” he said.

now it’s after dinner, and time to open the secret santa gifts. you were kinda excited to see what ethan had got you. but you were more excited to show mickey the gift you got him.

“alright let’s pass the gifts around. ethan…how about you go first. since you already spoiled who you got a gift for.” roman stated.

ethan mumbled a “my bad” and went and grabbed the gift with your name on it, and then looked for the one with his name.

“ohh, i wonder who got me this gift. y/n was it you?” he handed you your gift, and then sat down and opened his.

“maybe. maybe not.” you teased him, knowing you didn’t get his name. “okay so, this is ambers.” roman started handing the gifts to who they belong to. he eventually handed mickey his gift, then going to sit down.

you watch as everyone opens their gifts, all enjoying and making jokes with each other. “aren’t you gonna open your gift y/n?” mickey asked you, looking at you then the gift. “yeah! wait, you got me a gift?” you tried to remove the awkwardness by laughing. “special gift for a special girl.” he chuckles. you look inside the bag to find a box. you then look at him for a second before grabbing the box and reading it.

it was titled ‘my love’.

you then opened the box to see what was inside, only to find pictures of you during your everyday life. “do you like it princess?” he asked you. you took a minute to process what you were looking at, picking up and looking through the pictures. there was pictures of you in your pjs, and even pictures of you in the living room by yourself. “how?” you thought. “what…why? i appreciate the gift, it’s just…” you stared at the pictures. he put his hand on your knee. “now do you believe i love you?” you only started at him in disbelief, but felt your face and body heat up. maybe he does love you?

AHH I HOPE YOU LOVE THISSSS

[rikanescence]

mdni (3.7k) [heavily feminised reader] sweet summer air was for lovers, the love they made, and the sweat it produced. rolling down your back as you rolled forward, looking down at a foreign face. you liked the way he smiled and the birds chirping outside, maybe the whistling of the trees, made it all feel cinematic. a still frame of you in your prime, messy hair, head thrown back, mouth open (stuck in a smile), doing what you were best at, being a whore! for charity, of course and totally. you made the world a better place, left every man satisfied. the crime rate probably went down, too. your pussy had magical powers! you'd make a graph if you could understand one, maybe you'd ask leon to do it. maybe you'd catch your step-brother in a good mood.

step-asshole, his little ‘manly man’ cosplay with a compact tee and sweatpants as if it stopped him from being a total lame. who was he trying to impress with his stupid room? it looked like he single-handedly funded the military with all those damn guns he got from his dad, just being there for the short minute it took you to call him for dinner had you antsy. it felt like one wrong step could turn you into swiss cheese. leon was such a damn try-hard, you heard him through the thin bedroom walls and he was panting heavy from his workouts. he smelled like sweat, gunpowder, and strong tones of egoist. this summer, hot with life and opportunities, could not be ruined by your step-brother. you'd do everything in your power to avoid that, to avoid him. 

you were in a hurry to be outside all summer in nothing but miniskirts and cropped tops, anything else would have you sweating to death. anything else would be a disservice to yourself and your world, hiding way too much of the temple that is your angel-crafted body. today, this awesome afternoon was for a date. he'd pick you up, take you at the mall, carry all your bags, and then you’d let him it in his cool car! totally awesome! you wondered if that was what would help your step-brother and his temper, too, if you just gave him your magical pussy you could totally save him!

your bouncy hair swayed with your hips, stepping towards the front door. there was no one to call out to when you left, your step-parents were enjoying their summer holidays just like you. and your step-brother, well, that—

“fuck are you going?” didn't involve him anyways. you whipped your head back, scrunching your face up and looking to the side. the houseplants were so pretty.

“out,” you kept your answer as vague as possible, your hands behind your back, hoping for leon to believe you despite… everything. the way your bottom lip was jutted out and quivering, how the ends of your mouth were curled down, you couldn't even look at the guy and you hoped he wouldn't be suspicious. as if. leon was leaned against the wall by the stairs, brawny arms crossed below his broad chest. how long had he been there? you bet he was staring at your ass the whole time, that creep. sure he had looks, but with that personality there was no way one self-respecting woman on earth liked him.

“like that? hell no.” your step-brother marched towards you, his footsteps loud as hell. did he do that on purpose? he didn't give you time to react before grabbing your forearm, hold tight so you couldn't tug it out.

“no one ever teach you how a woman is supposed to dress?” you didn't answer, and he took that as a no.

“that's okay, because i'm here now. i'll tell you straight up: modest.” you scoffed and leon tightened his hold. 

“you think you can do whatever you want when mom and dad aren't home?* too bad, cus that's not how it works. i'm a man, you'll listen to me.” your eyes twitched, you held back a smile, leon was going to make you giggle.

“uhm, like hell i will,” you refused, leon didn't laugh. when you tried again to get your arm out of his grasp, he jerked you away from the door and towards the couch. your back hit the wooden framing inside and it hurt like hell.

“ouch.”

“you're so lucky i didn't slap you. fucking bitch,” he spat, hovering over you as you used your hands to push yourself off the couch. you looked good from his view, spread legs hindering your skirt from covering much, he could just about make out your lacy thong, pink and being swallowed between your pussy lips. leon would be lying if he said he wasn’t close to cross-eyed trying to tear his eyes off the exhibition.

“you'll listen to me, yeah? i don't wanna make you cry, so be good for me and answer the damn question.”

you would fight with the devil in your head telling you to provoke him with a stupid response, but the pain in your spine dissolved that argument before it could begin.

“date,” you pushed yourself to answer, “i have a date, leon.” 

he clenched his teeth, clicking his tongue. he was pissed. like usual. you were a fucking whore, but never with him. never with the one guy who actually deserves you. honestly, you were perfect for him, so damn pretty. god, why'd you have to be a damn slut? leon was about to chastise you before he heard the doorbell ring, his features portraying a shock he tried to mute. 

“what, is that your date? the dumbass is picking you up?” you nod your head to your step-brothers discontent and he continues, “that's weird, don't you usually go meet your ‘dates’ at some random place like a hooker?”

how rude! that leon, oh how he was lacking in the manners department.

“what do you mean, stupid? i'm obviously not a hooker! now, are you gonna let me open the door for my date? he's waiting for me out there!”

you looked at him like he was stupid and leon's face tightened, his fists clenched around nothing and he remembered he wasn't touching you. your cheek was reminded, too, when his hand came to greet it.

“easy. i said i don't wanna hurt you,’ he insisted in an admittedly docile voice, “don't make that hard for me.” you looked into his eyes, saw the shaky teal pupils and the wrinkled eyebrows.

“don't you get it? i'm so fucking good to you, more than most men should be. you know how fucking embarrassing it is to have the town slut for a step-sister?” his pupils weren't shaky, it was that he kept looking between your face and your body. you were slow to comprehend that.

“so quiet now, huh?” leon observed with ridicule, your pouty lips were separated, but no words left from them.

“i'm a better teacher than i thought,” he laughed, “got the brattiest bitch i know to learn how to speak when spoken to and only in a couple of minutes.”

leon all but beat your head when he petted it, conceited grin on his face as he did. it wasn’t even going to take him half a summer to train you, by the looks of it.

“all this,” he started, sight limited to your underclothed body and the tight fabric hugging them. a day during which leon could see your nipples through your shirt was a lucky day. today, leon planned to get lucky. “this is a cry for attention, isn't it? it's what girls like you who aren't all there—” he pokes your temple with his middle finger. “—do when you want a man to pay attention to you, but you're too shy to ask for it. i'm sorry i didn't get that till now.” you couldn't believe your ears, leon didn't understand your cause at all! once he made that graph, then he'd see your one cause was to make the whole world smile!

“i get you now. all this time, ever since you moved in, you've been screaming–” he mocked your voice with a higher pitch,”-’pay attention to me already, leon!’” he laughed and patted your head again. your hair was due for a wash. 

“if all you wanted was me, you should have learned how to use those cock-sucking lips of yours to communicate, dumbass. not usually, but for you, i'm open to save a hoe. you don't have to go looking for men you can pretend are me while they give you some mediocre dick anymore. you can just be a real sweetheart and help get your big brother off, yeah?”

his hand spread on your head to force it up and down, emulating a nod.

“there we go,” he praised, “i knew i could get you to come around.” he tugged at your hand.

“now stand. get the door for that stupid date you're oh-so desperate to go on. come on, i'll walk you there.”

leon pulled you to stand on the ground, feet guided by him as you made your way to the door. you checked yourself in the doorknob, reflective from its clean shine, twisting it open after confirming you still looked good. behind you, your step-brother made a blurred sound between a scoff and a cough.

the man on the other side seemed…. surprised, to see leon standing behind you with such a daunting face. seemed shaken to the core. his name slipped your mind, but you were sure it started with a ‘c’. plus, you could ask him later during your date.

“you dragged out a cheerful, ‘hi’ as you waved at your date with a welcoming smile, your tone-deaf and carefree nature bringing for a laugh from C despite himself. 

“hey, you look fantastic.” 

“fantastic?” leon butted in, portraying disbelief “that's all you can say?”

you watched the man before you shrink as the one behind you condemned him.

“jesus.” leon took a step forward, turning your face to his. he did not look impressed.

“these are the guys you let fuck you?”

two out of three people looked uncomfortable, with leon being the outlier.

“well, aren't you gonna let him in?” leon parodied your cattier cadence from earlier. invite him in? that wasn't on the plan for your totally awesome date, but you figured leon would be a meanie again if you didn't listen.

“you wanna come inside?” you reached your fingers out to hold your date's hand, allowing him to follow you inside like a dog on a leash. leon frowned at the sight. losers like the one you held by the hand would do anything to get their dick wet. a heavy cloud of tense awkwardness floated down on you all, brought in by your step-brother's presence, and you felt its weight when you could hear your date breathing close behind you. his breath tickled your skin and— that's probably it. it's not a cloud, it's his continuous breathing on your neck that's making you feel all weird. you roll one glossy lip beneath the other.

“um—”

“you wanna continue what we were doing earlier?” leon put his hand on your bare shoulder. close to the base of your neck. you wondered if those rough fingers were there to protect you from the cloud or take  you from it. 

“on the couch, you know? i was actually getting kinda into it.” leon wasn't looking at you as he spoke, but behind you with a strained smile one would give a friend. playing innocent. if he were to open his eyes, they would look down at C with disinterest as though he was beneath leon in every aspect. they didn't know each other, did they? you never mentioned even having a step-brother to begin with. aw no, C must be so confused!

“leon, what are you talking about?”

you felt leon's fingernails dig into your skin, making it sting like a wasp would. not that it's lethal, but that he was on the lookout for reasons to put his hands on you. when everything and anything you did could be seen as provocation, the reasons were too many to count.

“sorry, my step-sister here never really had anyone teach her to speak when spoken to,” he laughed, “she's kind of annoying. fuck that, she's an irritating little whore. man-to-man, what do you even like about her?” 

ouchies. both leon's words and his fingers on your neck were totally ouchies, but he still smiled like he was chatting about something trivial. did he really want to know that?

“you shouldn't—”

“is it her ass?” always with the interruption, speaking over people was his specialty. he waited for an answer, ignoring the weird mood he set in the room.

“i won't judge you, c'mon.”

“no, man. she's a sweet girl,” C insisted. his voice was weak, he sounded intimidated. 

“a sweet girl,” leon scoffed, “a sweet girl? don't sugarcoat it.” his strong hand on your weak shoulder turned you to face your date, showing you off like a one big, shiny trophy.

“be real. i already said, man-to-man. what's your favourite thing about her? is it her cute little face?” leon pinched and pulled at your cheek.

“her tits?” his hand enveloped your breast through your thin top with a firm squeeze.

“ass?” you braced for the impact, but a yelp was forced out once leon smacked your ass instead of letting you off with more groping. when you opened your eyes again, the face before you was contorted with… disgust? oh my god, he probably thought you were totes weird! you had to let him know this wasn't a normal occurrence at all, your step-brother hated you! he'd never even touched you until now! well…

“pussy?” leon's hand crept down your midriff and the eyes before you shot wide.

“fuck, no. dude,  stop touching her.”

leon found that an amusing reaction. the faces a man made when jealous were quick to make him laugh. how could someone be jealous of what they didn't own? your step-brother had his hands on his property, that was all. not a crime in the slightest, unless C could stand straight and say it. but he wouldn't. leon wasn't an easy man to confront, he knew that well, but a sight like this really stroked his ego. made his dick real hard. leon's fingers prodded past the elastic of your panties to move them to the side and he was met with no objection because who could challenge him? now you looked down at the floor in shame, feeling how fat your tongue had become in your sealed mouth. bloated with the burden of silence. shame and disappointment fixed your gaze to the ground. you thought maybe C would speak up for you, but maybe he knew it too. knew this needed to happen, for leon's sake! it made your palms all sweaty and your tongue all fat and the room all weird, but at its core you were happy for an opportunity to turn your step-brother's frown upside down!

“you gonna get on the couch for me now?” leon spun you towards him, peeved by the shaking of your lowered head. 

“nuh uh,” you dismissed, “that… really hurt my back.” it was true, you still felt it.

“aww, really?” leon ruffled your hair, not moved at all by your complaint. 

“princess used to getting her pussy stuffed on a silk mattress? too bad,” he grinned, “you’ve been getting treated good, but you haven't been getting it good. let me fuck you how you deserve.” leon kicks at your ankle. “on the floor.”

you stumble onto it. first your knees, then your back. your hair cushioned your head from the impact. but now you'd need to comb it to be neat again.

“ouchies, leon,” you grumbled, scratching the back of your head as your eyes adjusted to your new position. it wasn’t long before your pupils were honing in on a blurry face, made clear by its brash expression. leon wasted no time getting into you while you were dazed and confused. your miniskirt, panties pushed to the side underneath it, all mouths shut, no objections. your step-brother couldn't be asked to take his pants off, only to yank his dick out from the border and stuff it inside his favourite thing about you. the curse, ‘fuck', left your lips in tandem with his. yours a squeak, his a husky groan. you didn't like it when you weren't eased into it, getting dick forced inside your cunnie kinda hurt! it made your eyes all watery, too. leon above you had a grin that rivalled the joker's. yay, your magic was working already, he was so happy! you were happy, too, for the most part. those weren't sadness tears and the sweat collecting on your skin was a byproduct of the action. nothing to do with the burning sensation of being watched, two sets of eyes trained on you. it wasn’t a rare occurrence, being the center of attention, but it had never happened in this kind of scenario. it was new and new was exciting. like a phone, or a hairstyle, or a boyfriend. new pumped your blood with stimulation and made you stupid with light-headedness, a smile growing on your face as your clingy hands reached out to clutch your step-brother's shoulders. that smile of yours broke, face twitching each time the drawstrings of the sweats he refused to discard, hanging low off his hips, connected with your ass cheeks. leon kept the stained trousers on, wasn't that stupid? his brain was emptied and taken over by the dumbifying drug of something new, but what had also been his for a while, the first time trying you out.  your walls clenched around his dick, that fucked-out face you were giving him, how you so wholly embraced him now when you were so standoffish a few minutes ago. it didn't take time at all for him to break you. leon lowered his face, his mouth touching your ear as he spoke between grunts. 

“that good, huh? nothing to say to me?”

your nails scratched leon's back as he bruised you with careless thrusts.

“thank you, leon,” you whimpered, the wetness of your eyes boldening the wisps of your eyelashes. leon felt his balls tighten. a thank you? he'd cum right there if you had offered an apology alongside it.

“feels good, huh? it's cus you were made for me. this is how it's supposed to be.” when you looked at him with such doting eyes, the eager sucking in of his dick by your lovesick cunt, he was sure he could get through to you. 

"yeah, that's it. a misguided woman like you… shit,” he panted in a whiny pitch, “you needed a man like me to break you in. remind you of— shit!– your fucking place.” his blushing face grimaced between words, trying to downplay how your pussy affected him.

“huh, leon?” was that dirty talk? you couldn't focus on his words, deafened by your own moans. you'd cry out every time leon reached a spot you'd somehow never felt before. your vision was blurred by ever-bubbling tears and leon could only thank god you weren't a snotty bitch.

“you. born to be under me,” leon huffed, simplifying his language to an extent that mocked your intellect. though it was also possible he couldn't go on spiels with all the sounds you were bringing out of him. sure he hadn't got some in a while, but had it ever been this good? to skip the formalities, to have you cling on to him like he was life itself, how stupid he'd made you to the point you hadn’t glanced at your little date even once. it was too good. with your brain functions paused, leon’s eyes glazed over as he thought of all he could make you do. no more alarms, he'd get you to ride him till he woke. any time he sat on a chair, he'd have you on your knees licking and sucking. his heart was racing. he could hold a gun to your head as he did it. if they were careless earlier, now his movements had dissolved to erratic, messy assaults. you cried out his name a multitude of times, pleading for him to slow down whilst your pussy drooled around his stingy dick. you didn't really want that.

“take it. c'mon, take it for me like i know you can. didn't i…” your hands had fell to his heaving chest now in hopes a slight push might slow him down. it couldn't. you were atleast glad he was enjoying himself, he could testify for your cause after this since he has first-hand experience now.

“didn't i tell you? you were born to be beneath me, so do what you're fucking best at and take it,” he demanded, slapping your thighs to bring a whine and nod from you, then using that same hand to swipe the tears off your face. they were starting to ruin his view if not bother him.

“stop crying before i shove it up your ass,” leon menaced, making you clench around him harder. you weren't sure it would be any fun with such a brute-force kind of guy, but it would be new.

“okay, i'm sorry,” you squeaked, and that mousey apology just about did it. it took less than a day. it only took some good dick could get you to listen to him. leon was too fucking good to you, this only reaffirmed that, a fact that had his dick twitching deep inside you. comforting, familiar warmth flooded you as leon emptied himself into your snug and magical cunt, he couldn't resist the urge to give your would-be date a boastful winner's simper as he finished. guys with no backbone get cucked. what, they don't teach that in school anymore? who was he kidding? you were made for step-brother to have, you just got confused. he came in his property, big deal to him. though, that would make a real mess of things for you. who'd still want a girl after knowing she gets it from step-bro and takes it with a twinkle in her ecstatic eyes? too bad for you, those endeavours would be forced to a halt.

leon understood now, as he watched your form twitching beneath him, his load staining your inner-thighs as it trickled down, your face frozen with such an obnoxious smile. the joy of ravaging a woman. the satisfaction of fucking the slut out of his step-sister. you’d obey him now. leon pushed back his blond, sweat-soaked hair. he'd really been missing out. 

thank you for reading, i really appreciate it ♡

[frozenjokes]

Something Somber, But I Hope At Least I Can Do My Best To Help You

there are guns in this fic, this is the warning for that. she’s (the fic) is a tad angsty

“I’m going to kill you now.”

Grian stood in the shallow water, holding some sort of human device in his hands. He was alone today, but it was possible Scar was just recovering from his injuries at home. That would make sense. However, Mumbo did find it a little odd that Grian hadn’t brought much of his stuff, the bag left in the grass looking deflated in comparison to how full it usually was. Grian wasn’t moving very much, very stiff as he pointed whatever he was holding at Mumbo’s face. He looked.. a little upset? It didn’t really look like he wanted Mumbo to have it, he was holding it so tightly, but Mumbo was getting a little confused about what exactly the purpose of this was.

Mumbo leaned a little closer to sniff, but Grian winced, taking a couple steps back. Well. Guess that answers that. Mumbo’s fins rose and fell on his back and head, twitching with annoyance. Why did Grian call him over if all he wanted to do was stare?

“What,” Mumbo said, hoping Grian would at least try to explain whatever it was he was holding and why he wanted to show it off, but Grian remained stiff, lips pursed.

“You don’t get it. You don’t- I’m going to kill you, and you don’t understand. Do something. Get mad or hiss at me or lunge or something. Defend yourself.”

Ah, so he was upset. If he was trying to communicate why, he wasn’t doing a very good job. Mumbo wasn’t even sure if this was about Scar; he didn’t think so, Grian never said Scar’s name, but he wasn’t sure what else. Wait, could he still be mad about the whole bag stealing thing? That was so long ago! If that was the case, that was sufficiently a Grian problem, learn to let go of a grudge, buddy.

“What,” Mumbo asked again, hoping Grian would do a better job at explaining himself.

Grian huffed as if his own inability to be clear was Mumbo’s fault, “This is a gun. Gun,” Grian moved the device a little in his hands, but didn’t hold it any less tightly, “I am going to shoot you with it. I am going to kill you.”

Mumbo stared blankly. Alright, the thing he was holding was a ‘gun.’ Great. Was he going to show him what it did, or were they just going to sit here for another twenty minutes. Mumbo didn’t mean to be so impatient, but honestly, Grian was being stupid and Mumbo’s tail was still in quite a lot of pain, worse in the shallows.

“I can’t- you don’t get it. And you know, it’s nothing against you. It’s not. Well..” Grian paused, thinking, then shook his head, “No, it’s nothing against you, even if you stole all my shit and fucked up my ankle- I might have a limp for the rest of my life, y’know! I probably won’t. But I might! You tore through all sorts of important shit in there.”

Mumbo wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be understanding what Grian was saying, but the human didn’t look like it planned on stopping, so Mumbo let it be. Still, he kept a slightly warier eye.

“And I’m not sorry, by the way. About your tail. You deserved that as far as I’m concerned, stealing my stuff then trying to sing me into the water after I was injured- I know your game. That’s what you guys do. You kill people. At best you’re like- like a public nuisance. But you’re dangerous, I know you’re dangerous and I..” Grian trailed off, looking away, “I’m just afraid Scar doesn’t know.”

Ah. There it was. So this was about Scar.. oh, Mumbo hoped he was okay. Scar hadn’t looked like he was hurt too badly, but then again, anything could have happened. The bite could have gotten infected or was deeper than Mumbo had thought, or any other number of things. Given how upset Grian seemed to be, something must have happened.

“Scar doesn’t have a very strong sense of self preservation, he never has, and it drives just about everyone in his life up a wall. I don’t know why or what’s wrong with him or if he’s got some sort of mental health issue he isn’t addressing, but it’s always been this way and- and he just gets so focused. Like he gets an idea in his head and he literally can’t think of anything but pursuing it. And when I say literally, I mean it. He doesn’t think about anything else! I don’t even know if he can! You would not believe how much he talks about you, it’s all ‘Mumbo Mumbo Mumbo! Mumbo this, Mumbo that,’ and because we have to keep you a secret, all of this goes to me and-” Grian cut himself off, taking a second to breath.

“It’s not that I care. Scar can talk my ear off all he wants about anything he wants. Sure, it can be a little much and I get frustrated with him from time to time, but at the end of the day, he picked me, y’know? There’s a guy that can talk his way into anything he wants, who can make friends with basically anyone, and he still.. he wants to talk to me. And that’s a special thing, y’know? Scar is a special kind of guy. And it just kills me when he tries to throw his life away!” Grian kicked up sand and water as his voice rose through gritted teeth, and Mumbo jumped back, startled, though he immediately regretted the motion, hissing in a soft whine at the pain that pulsed through his tail. Grian stared at him for a long while, still pointing his ‘gun,’ but his shoulders fell.

“He’s going to be mad at me. For killing you. Doesn’t matter how many times I said I was going to or how many times I told him he couldn’t interfere if I let him come and see you. He’s going to feel bad, then I’m probably going to feel bad, and we’ll probably both feel very bad for a while, but it’ll be fine because Scar will be alive. That’s what matters, in the end. Not mermaids, not money- well, actually I won’t go that far. I’m going to sell the shit out of your body and I’ll probably be very well off for the rest of my life. I think I’m allowed to want that too! I think that’s fair.”

“And I’ll have you know, Scar’s not innocent either, he still wants you in his zoo even if he doesn’t talk about it around here anymore. As if you’d even understand. I’m telling you to your face I’m going to kill you and sell all your body parts and you couldn’t give less of a fuck. It’s impressive almost, how neutral your face is right now. You look a bit like one of those dogs from those kennel ads? All of them looking all sad with the sad music trying to make you feel sad so you go out and adopt. That’s how you look all the time. It’s the eyes. All big and dark like that. Ugh.”

Mumbo wasn’t sure what to do. Clearly this human was in some kind of distress, but the more it talked, the more he was sure he had no clue what was actually going on. Had it come looking for some sort of comfort? Why Mumbo? Out of everyone Grian knew, surely Mumbo was the least qualified by far.

Did.. he know anyone else? Humans were social animals, Mumbo knew this, but mermaids were too, and even despite this, some had trouble fitting in. Mumbo had never seen another human other than Scar hang around with Grian.. maybe while Scar was healing and resting, he just didn’t have anyone else to go to.

Well, Mumbo knew a few things about humans. They liked to talk (loudly) and yell at each other (loudly) and call each other’s names and be obnoxious to each other for fun. Though, given Mumbo did not speak human, this seemed out of the question in terms of things he could do to help.

Humans.. liked touch. Mumbo was pretty sure of that, no matter how foreign it always seemed. Scar was always touching Grian affectionately, and despite the latter never looking all too thrilled, he never really reacted negatively either, sometimes even visibly relaxing. Is.. that what Grian was looking for?

Mumbo steeled himself, less for the pain of maneuvering in shallow water and more for reaching out his hand toward the human ahead. Sure, maybe they’d had a rocky start, but Grian was clearly in distress. If Mumbo could show him that he cared, maybe Grian would understand he meant to be friendly? Even still, he found his head and body cringing back in anticipation of The Touch, though he kept his arm extended, one eye still watching anxiously.

Grian looked.. well, honestly, Mumbo couldn’t tell if he was any more or less distressed than before, but it felt a little bit different than before?

“What.” Grian said, looking rapidly from his gun to Mumbo to Mumbo’s hand, eyebrows pinched, “What is this. What are you doing.”

Ah, yeah, that made sense. This was pretty radically different behavior for Mumbo; if he was on the other side of it, he’d be wary too. Though, he didn’t quite have the words to explain himself. For a moment Mumbo considered singing, something soft and somber so Grian might understand his intentions, but given how the human reacted last time he sang.. no, that would be a bad idea.

‘Red,’ he whistled instead, “Grian.” Mumbo’s gills flared gently, frustrated. Why was this so hard. Maybe Grian was put off by how uncomfortable Mumbo looked.. maybe looking a little less like touching Grian was one of the top ten worst things that could possible happen to him would be a start.

Mumbo strained to get a little closer despite the pain, holding out both of his arms instead of just the one, palms up. He managed to open both of his eyes, though they were still pretty narrowed in the bracing anticipation of something unpleasant. He even tried to face Grian completely instead of shying away, though he couldn’t quite force himself to manage that entirely. Grian’s mouth hung open, like breathing that way might give him more information on what exactly was happening here. Unfortunately, intention was not something humans could smell.

Grian slowly, slowly lowered his gun, not letting go, but not holding so tightly either, leaving it in one hand at his side. His arms were shaking- actually, mostly of him was shaking.. Mumbo wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Likely a symptom of human distress; it didn’t seem voluntary, quite unlike the quivering of mermaid fins when they were very angry.

Mumbo snapped back to reality when Grian moved, taking a slow step forward. Then another. Then another.

‘It’s okay. This is okay. I’m sorry about Scars, and I’m sorry you’re worried. I think you’re worried. That human seems like it’s survived quite a few injuries though, I think it’ll be okay. I thought you were going to hurt each other, and even now, I’m not entirely sure you weren’t. Mermaids have thick skin. You do not. Humans are too fragile, you can’t be fighting each other like that.’

“You’ve been watching us, haven’t you. I mean, of course you have, but this is.. I guess you’ve really been paying attention. Is that what we sound like to you, just all sorts of nothing speech all day? I bet that gets annoying. I’ve never heard you talk this much. I guess your language is also pretty complex. It must be, unless you’re just repeating the same few concepts. It’s hard to tell. Are you really that intelligent? Wow, if you knew what I just said you’d probably be offended. But I just- I mean you’re just a big fish, yeah? It would be crazy to just assume you had comparable intelligence just because you kinda look like a person. But that’s what Scar thinks of course.”

‘I have no idea what you’re saying, but I’m pretty sure this is how human conversation works. You take turns talking for long periods of time and stare very uncomfortably at each other’s faces. This is a foreign concept to me, Red. Humans are extremely weird.’

“It’s funny how when you’re saying one of our names the clicking stops. Did you do that just for us? So we’d be able to say them? I just assumed some mermaid words didn’t have clicks, but you don’t stop. You don’t stop at all actually, it doesn’t even look like you breathe.”

‘Is this the appropriate time to speak. You humans don’t pause for very long before another one starts talking. My arms are getting tired, are you going to touch them and feel better or not.’

Mumbo almost thought Grian understood, because at nearly the same time Mumbo spoke, it moved forward another step, far closer than what was comfortable, though, to be fair, this entire experience was uncomfortable. Couldn’t Grian just reach out and touch Mumbo’s hands from as far away as possible? What was the point of getting this close?

“You look. Uncomfortable.” Grian cringed back, demonstrating the word and gesturing vaguely to Mumbo before his neutral expression returned. “Uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortable! How did he know? Mumbo had gone through so much effort to look friendly and inviting, he hadn’t even bared his teeth once! Mumbo took a moment to inspect himself, a few quick embarrassed clicks escaping his throat when he saw every single one of his fins across his back flared out and on end. Even the big one at the end of his tail was all spiky and sticking out of the water, goodness. Mumbo forced them all down at once, re-presenting his arms.

Grian laughed, which Mumbo was 90% sure was a happy sound, and then relaxed a little more, waving his hands in a ‘no’ gesture.

“I’m not going to touch you if you don’t want me to, Mumbo. I’m not- Do you just think that’s a human thing? Lots of animals enjoy physical contact y’know, we actually domesticated a ton of animals for the sole purpose of petting them. I have to think you guys also enjoy it, at least with each other. You’re just flighty with humans, and I’m guessing lots of other stuff in the water. Do mermaids get eaten a lot? I can not imagine that being an issue. You’re huge.”

Grian backed up a little, but not out of fear. Just.. stepping away. Mumbo dropped his arms, somewhat relieved, but a tiny part of him was also a little annoyed. Clearly there was something magic about human touch, and Mumbo was kinda starting to want to know what the fuss was about. But Grian kept its distance now, and Mumbo didn’t think he would be able to convince it to approach him again. Shame. Though, admittedly, it was nice to not have his personal bubble be so thoroughly invaded.

“Hey,” Grian said, grabbing Mumbo’s attention back, “This isn’t- I’m still going to kill you. I’m going to.” It raised its gun half heartedly, but stopped, dropping it with a huff and a little stomp of its foot. “If you hurt him. Scar. Again. If you even touch him I’m going to- I won’t hesitate. If you kill him I’m going to- I’ll be really upset. So don’t. Do that. Clear? Are we clear?”

Mumbo stared. Grian stared back.

“Are we clear? Yes or no.”

“What,” Mumbo said, deeply confused, but Grian only huffed. Mumbo flicked his tail fins with a short hiss, ‘I don’t speak your dumb language, if you want me to understand then tell me clearly.’

“Don’t sass me.”

‘I don’t like your tone.’

“Shush!” Grian drew a finger over his mouth and Mumbo copied the gesture, flicking his fins. Grian threw up his hands like he’d been mortally offended, turning immediately on his heel. Humans. So dramatic. Internally, Mumbo noted the gesture for later as something to use when the humans were being particularly annoying.

“Whatever!” Grian declared, not looking at Mumbo as he spoke, “I’m leaving!” He marched away out of the water, stomping and splashing as he left in what Mumbo was sure was a conscious effort to be as obnoxious as possible. Amused, he began his careful backpedal into deeper water, sighing contentedly. After a minute, Grian seemed to be quite offended when he looked back to see Mumbo also leaving, yelling and calling out and being a total nuisance, but Mumbo ignored him, relieved to be out of the shallows.

Scar was all kinds of odd, but Grian felt like a different beast sometimes. Scar was predictable in his weirdness, completely baffling, but consistent. Grian felt like he reacted differently to the same exact situation every time, the one exception being when he felt he was in danger, in which he would just scream. Loudly. Shrilly. Only sometimes justified.

Maybe it would just take a little more time.

Scar was easy; easy to impress, easy to speak to, and easy to watch- Mumbo would say Scar was easy to be around, but that wasn’t quite the case with his chronic lack of environmental awareness, always swinging his arms and moving erratically. But at this point Mumbo was used to it. In a way, that erraticness was predictable too; Mumbo knew to keep a little more space between the two of them because of it. But Scar was an open book, and Grian clearly wasn’t.

He was guarded like Mumbo was, and that was a good thing. Scar’s carelessness was written all over his body, and Grian had his moments of impulsive stupidity, but Mumbo didn’t worry for his life like he did for Scar’s. Briefly, he wondered if Grian worried about Scar as well.

[jnece-maharlika]

LMK MUSIC MONKEY AU

A porty clone fic

Chapter 1: The mark of a start

AUTHORS Note: I couldnt help my self so here's a fic. Not very cannon compliant but it's there.

Info here: Masterpost

CHAPTER 1

---

If you asked Porty what being a clone of the Monkey Kid, successor of the Monkey King, is like, he would tell you: “uhhh, it’s pretty cool, I guess. We get to beat bad guys, keep the city safe and…stuff.”

That answer, while true, is not how he fully feels about being a clone. If you were to ask for a genuine answer, he would sigh and tell you, “Being a clone is tiring.”

That answer might confuse you. How in the world is being a clone tiring? Shouldn’t it be exciting? I mean, you’re a copy of the Monkie Kid! You can do anything and everything he can! You are a Monkie Kid!

While true, you might want to take a step back and remember just what a clone is.

An MK clone is a copy of the original that’s summoned from magical hair to fulfill a task and disappear right after.

When Porty was first created, he was made for one thing: to party.

That’s what he was meant to do, it’s what he wants to do, it’s what he is.

But he might have gone a bit too far with that, and the whole Mei incident happened. Ever since then, Porty was only ever summoned for either combat or as a distraction.

And isn’t that tiring?

Porty was made to party, but all he’s allowed to do is:

Get summoned

Fight

Get unsummoned/poofed

Then wait for whenever OG summons him again.

Don’t get him wrong, he’s totally cool with the whole fighting-to-save-the-world thing. But there really isn’t anything tying him down to do it; he has no reason to do it other than he’s being asked. Sure, he doesn’t want people to die, but there are other people in the world who aren’t him and can do a better job. He’s more than happy to sit back and just watch the world be saved rather than participate.

He wants to do something else—literally anything else than the endless cycle of getting summoned and killed. He wants to go to parties in different parts of China, party all day, all night, or maybe something else! Maybe he wants to pick up an instrument or something; maybe he’ll be a well-known DJ!

Oh, he likes that idea.

Someday, if OG would let him, he’d like to leave and become something other than what he is now—maybe even become his own person and not just the party clone.

---

Porty watched as the severely one-sided battle against a demon (he didn’t bother learning who) went on. He winced and gripped his shirt; he could feel his fellow clones disappearing one by one. It felt like something was repeatedly being plucked from his chest—might be hair; he’s a hair clone, after all. It’s not a very painful feeling, just very uncomfortable.

He doesn’t know why; he doubts he’ll ever know. But he’s always felt a little more connected to the other clones in a lot of ways. Unlike OG, who had to scour the entire city to collect them when they went rogue, Porty could feel where they were within the city.

Then there’s the whole “he can feel them poofing” thing, too. It’s just him; none of the other clones have it. It’s weird, but Porty tries not to think about it—not right now.

Porty sighs. He really doesn’t want to be here. He shouldn’t be here. He’s not a fighter; he’s a party man. He’s meant to sit behind a DJ table and blast songs to a sea of drunk people while being blinded by flashing lights. And if he has to fight? He’s going to sit back and snap his fingers at the other clones as he barks out orders. That is what he’s supposed to do, just like back during the whole anti-gravity arcade thing. He’s pretty sure OG didn’t mean for him to be made that way, but it’s always been what he thinks his purpose is—like it’s written in his code somewhere, just like partying.

A strong thump came from his chest, making him groan. Delivery Clone is done. Fuck—he—

Help.

He freezes and looks around. No one is talking to him. Must be the telepathic link, then.

Another thing he found out was that clones had the ability to talk to each other telepathically, though they aren’t able to talk with OG through it. He discovered it by accident during the gravity arcade takeover. He had been thinking about how cool it would be if the other clones were to come and party too. A few minutes later, the clones were knocking at the gates, saying he had called for them.

He didn’t tell OG about this out of pure spite. It was rude to stop the party, after all.

The other clones didn’t really care but kept it a secret anyway.

What is it? he sent back.

MK, the clone replied. Trouble.

Ah, fuck. Now he had to go rescue. He would give anything for a drink right now.

He really doesn’t want to be here.

---

Porty sits back on the ground in a crater and sighs. His bones are sore after doing so much fighting; he swears his arms are about to fall off anytime soon. He watches as the Monkie crew talks happily, celebrating their victory with so much energy you’d doubt they’ve just been in a fight. Do they ever get tired?

The sound of feet sliding down the crater caught his attention. His eyes widened. “Artsy??” he gasped. “You haven’t poofed yet—wait, no—” he shakes his head. “That was rude—are you doing okay, man? You, uh…” He looked him over. “You don’t look so hot.”

The artist clone looked worse for wear, like he had been dragged across grass and rocks for miles. Leaves, sticks, and stones were stuck in his hair; his body was covered in cuts and bruises. But despite all these obvious causes for concern, the artist clone shrugged. “The only thing that could hurt me is an artwork gone wrong,” he says nonchalantly.

“huh?”

“I’ll be fine,” the artist says as he takes a seat, cross-legged, next to the party man. His brow raised as he inspected the other. “You’re even worse than me.”

While Artsy looked like he was dragged for miles, Porty looked like he had been to hell and back. A big gash on his stomach was still bleeding, along with several smaller but deep cuts. He was pretty sure his ankle was sprained.

Luckily for him, clones either have a really high pain tolerance or a really messed-up sensory system. He’s pretty sure it’s the second one, he doubts it’s the first one. No way OG would have managed to build up such high pain tolerance in just a few months of fighting and training.

“Eh, it’ll go away when I poof.”

Porty shrugged it off. “I’m fine.”

They sit there in silence, leaving each other to their thoughts for a bit.

“I don’t think you’re fine,” Artsy breaks the silence.

“Uh—what?”

Artsy turns to look Porty in the eyes. Pure white eyes stared into Porty’s soul. For some reason, his irises never came back from when he went art-crazy. It’s weird, but it made it easier to spot the artist in the sea of clones. “You have the face of someone who doesn’t want to be here.”

Porty tensed. He looked up at the night sky and took a deep breath. He sighed, “I…well…” he looked down and picked up some of the small pebbles in the dirt. “…Yeah, you’re right.” He threw the rock at a bigger rock. “I hate it here.”

Artsy nods. He looks toward the direction where Porty is throwing the rocks; his empty white eyes somehow looked warm to Porty.

. “MK and I share a lot of things in common.”

Porty snorts, “Well, yeah, we’re his clones. We’re literally copies of OG.”

“Hmm…” Artsy takes off his bandana. “Do you really think that?” he asks as he moves closer to the other and gently pulls Porty’s feet toward him. “Do you really think I’m just a carbon copy of MK?” he gently wraps the bandana around Porty’s sprained ankle.

“I…” Porty leans back. “Ye-...no?...” he leans forward and plays with the hem of his torn shirt. He thinks about it. Technically, Artsy is a clone of MK—they both are—so technically, the two of them are picture-perfect copies of OG, similar in every way to the point that it would be hard to tell which is which.

But that’s not really the case for them, is it? They aren’t perfect clones, far from it. They don’t obey orders properly and have a tendency to take things too far. OG never told Artsy to make the boat look perfect, OG never told Delivery to stress-eat the deliveries, and OG never told him to make the party go nonstop. But they all went and did it anyway.

They took a simple order and went too far with it.

While the other clones—the more recent ones—were more of what you'd expect from a clone, following orders to a T and then disappearing, the first three clones were different.

Maybe it's a magic issue that made the first three clones so unique.

“No…” Porty decided, trailing off.

Artsy nodded. “I don’t know why, but—” he took off his jacket, “I’m different.” He moved closer to Porty and gently wrapped the jacket around the wound in Porty’s chest. “OG treats art like it’s just a hobby, but for me? I lose my mind if it’s anything less than perfect. MK likes to go outside and get inspiration, sketching the scenery quickly, but I’m more than happy to stay in hammerspace and obsess over the same canvas for weeks.”

Inside OG’s magic, there was a black void where all the clones gathered when unsummoned. Here, they could interact with each other and manipulate the space as they liked. In what seemed to be the center of the endless void was a screen that allowed them to go through MK’s memories or see the real world through MK’s eyes in real-time. They weren’t exactly sure what this place was, but they’d decided to call it “hammerspace” after seeing cartoons in MK’s memories.

This was another piece of info they kept from OG. I mean, how in the world could they even tell him that the clones could spy on him?

“Why…” Porty hesitated. “Why are you telling me this?” He looked down at the jacket wrapped around his bleeding torso.

Artsy sighed, looking into Porty’s eyes. Blank white eyes stared into Porty’s brown eyes. “We know you want to leave.”

“W-what?” Porty stammered. “What—what?” He scratched his head nervously. “What gave you that idea? Why would I want to leave? I like it here! It’s not like there’d be anywhere bet—”

“Cut it, Porty clone,” Artsy interrupted with a stern look. “We’ve all noticed. Every time you get a turn on the screen, you always watch the memories that show nightlife, parties, festivals. Y-you…” He sighed, his gaze softening. “You always look so happy—like a little kid seeing an ad for Disneyland. It’s obvious: that’s where you want to be.” He patted Porty’s shoulder. “That’s where you’re meant to be. Out under the moon, bright and happy.”

Porty looked down at the ground. Artsy had always been able to read others like a book; guess it came with being a detail-oriented artist. And he wasn’t wrong—Porty did want to be out there, under the night skies, surrounded by stars and flashing lights as he danced the night away in complete bliss. But he couldn’t have that. He was just a clone, not a real person.

Porty shrank into himself. “Yeah…” he admitted quietly. “But I can’t do that. OG wo—”

“Why not?”

Porty’s head snapped to look at the other. “What?”

“Why can’t you do it?” Artsy raised a brow.

“Well…” Porty pointed at MK, who was busy happily chatting. “OG wouldn’t let me—not after the whole Mei thing.”

Artsy leaned back, brow still raised. “Since when did you care what MK thinks?” He sighed, “Look, what I’m trying to say is… you should go.”

Porty’s eyes widened. “Wh-what?!”

“You should go,” Artsy repeated. “Go find whatever makes you happy, whether it’s partying or anything else.” He smiled. “I already talked to the other clones—they think so too. You should go, Porty. We support you.”

Porty felt a mix of emotions welling up. Part of him wanted to cry, while another part wanted to feel joy that his team would support him in following his own dreams. But he couldn’t possibly just leave them here. What if OG needed him? What if OG needed the others? Who would look after them? He couldn’t just—

“We’ll be fine,” Artsy interrupted his train of thought, sighing. “We’ll be fine, Porty. None of us really mind the whole being-summoned-to-fight thing.” He shrugged. “We’re quite fine with it, but it bothers you.” He smiled softly. “Porty, you’ve done a lot for us. You’ve helped us out a lot.” He held Porty’s hand. “We want to see you happy too.”

“I…” Porty looked down at their hands. The thought of running away into the world wasn’t new to him. He’d watched MK’s memories and even found himself accidentally mapping out escape routes in case he ever did it. But he hadn’t acted on those plans. No matter how tempting it was to abandon a fight and run off to the nearest party, he didn’t. He couldn’t leave the other clones to fight on their own.

But now, he was given permission, his clones had given him permission.

The idea of leaving them scared him a bit, but the excitement and desire to see just where he could go and what he could do outweighed that fear. Maybe… maybe he’d give it a try, go for a few weeks, have fun, and check in on the other clones if they were summoned every once in a while. If things didn’t work out, he could always poof himself back to OG.

He smiled, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Porty nodded. “I’ll do it.”

Artsy beamed. “Good!” He stood up and pulled Porty up. “You should go now, then.”

“Wa-wait, what?” Porty stumbled a bit as he got up. “Wait! Now?!”

“Yes!” Artsy whispered. “Keep your voice down so they don’t notice,” he said as he nudged Porty forward.

“W-wait!” Porty whisper-yelled. “Like, right now?!” His eyes widened; he hadn’t expected to be sent off so soon! “Wh-why? Why not the next time I’m summoned?”

“No!” Artsy answered. “MK keeps a close eye on you since you went a little rogue the first time, but right now, he’s distracted.”

Porty sweatdropped. “Can’t I at least say goodbye to the others?”

“I’ll pass on the message.”

“And if OG looks for me?”

“I’ll tell him you poofed.” Artsy gave Porty one last push, making him stumble before he regained his balance. Porty looked back at Artsy with a hesitant smile.

“Go,” Artsy encouraged. “Live your life, be happy.”

The clones had always been supportive of everything. Delivery—being the big guy—would always give Porty big hugs every time he felt down about not being able to freely have fun. Artsy, despite his quirks, was observant and gave great advice. Even the less sentient, more MK-like clones were supportive of Porty and what he wanted to do, despite OG keeping an eye on him for any signs of villainy. They were his family, his friends, his brothers. He’d taken care of them and worried a bit about leaving them. But he knew they could stand on their own and… they wanted this for him. They’d have to cover for his absence a lot, but they still wanted him to go, to do what made him happy.

Artsy smiled at him. “Go,” he said. “Don’t worry about us.” He waved his hand in farewell. “Have fun.”

Porty’s smile grew wide, warmth spreading in his chest. “Okay…” He raised his hand and waved. “I’ll… see you next time.”

This marked the start of Porty’s own chaotic life. The first chapter in his story.

[alexanderlightweight]

For writing prompt could we perhaps get a little more of the marriage of inconvenience? It’s a wonderful fic! If not no worries, married at first sight/meeting/date is my favorite trope!

Yeah! Thanks for the ask I really loved this fic so I was happy to finally finish it but I’m not burned out

Hope you enjoy!

—

Alec starts to wake up and he squints, because he’s definitely not in his own room.

He’s not in any room he’s seen before and it smells different but more like home than Alec’s ever had.

Something rustles next to him and Alec can’t help the small yelp when a strong arm wraps around his waist and he’s hauled back.

Back against firm muscles that are hard and smooth against the line of Alec’s back and there’s stubble, scratchy against his neck and he burrows back into the chafe of it.

“Magnus.” He gasps out in a sob of pure relief even as lips are being pressed to his shoulder. N

Alec is sore and pleasantly aching, his body tingling from the inside out and he has everything he’s never let himself dream about.

“Yes, sweetheart?” He’s asked, a dark chuckle against his nape and teeth are scraping over the bruise that is Alec’s deflect rune. “Good morning.”

And Alec whimpers when he finally rolls himself over and stares at Magnus.

Magnus who looks so very incredible, with his sleep-mussed hair and his makeup gone.

And he’s still just as devastatingly beautiful as the first time Alec saw him.

Which was the night before.

“We got married, we got married right?”

“Yes, we did.” Magnus is rumbling, pulling Alec closer and Alec lets himself be manhandled, limp with relief.

Magnus himself sounds very pleased and smug but the tightness of his fingers on Alec’s hip belay his sudden tension.

“Oh thank fuck.” Alec mutters because Maia swears like a mundane and he’s picked up on it. And Alec certainly isn’t going to be thanking any angels when this whole thing is an angelic problem. “The wedding is supposed to be in three days.”

“That’s cutting it a little close.” Magnus tells him and his grip has only tightened but the rest of his body is relaxed now.

His fingers are proprietary and knowing as they pet up and down Alec’s skin. And Alec has to wonder, how much did Magnus touch him while he slept, trying to memorize Alec’s body.

The way Magnus touches him, it’s like he already knows Alec and is familiar with him.

He acts like touching Alec is a natural extension of Magnus moving, because his fingers belong on Alec’s skin.

“If I let myself get poisoned by a demon can I just conveniently stay unconscious until after that?” He asks without any real thought and there is a sharp inhale and then Magnus rolls them from their sides over. He’s pinning Alec down and staring down at him and Alec gets the distinct impression that he’s said something wrong.

“If you get yourself poisoned by a demon, darling Alexander. Especially if it’s on purpose, I will be putting you to bed and I will be withholding myself.”

Alec can’t help the way he lurches up, arms winding tightly around Magnus.

“No poison.” He promises because avoiding the clave isn’t worth any loss of Magnus’ attention.

Magnus chuckles and it’s a comforting rumble, the promise of a predator's protection.

“Well, not for you at least.” Magnus murmurs against his lips, “though we could always plan a little poison for our wedding favors.”

Alec fights the grin because duty is still important to him but Alec is so tired of being the sensible and strong one when he’s been the one caught in a storm and dashed against a reef.

“You might not like how they react.” Magnus warns him, reminding Alec of the consequences.

The price that may be his freedom.

And Alec, maybe that would have scared him before.

But he has a powerful, magical, amazing husband who holds Alec like he’s a flash of frozen starlight about to vanish forever.

And Alec finds that he can live with this version of himself.

This version of himself that chooses happiness over a slow death.

Because Alec was never going to stay married to Clary if he even made it to the altar.

One of them would have ended up dead, one way or another.

Alec would have made it so.

So he kisses Magnus in answer.

A little hesitant because it’s new and there’s a little flare of magic where he tastes mint instead of morning and then his mouth is being claimed much more skillfully than his own attempt.

“I’ll have you, right? No matter what happens?” Alec pants when Magnus finally takes agonizing mercy and lets him breathe.

“We’re bound to each other, Alexander. As tightly as Jonathan Shadowhunter was to Raziel, if not much more intimately.” Magnus kisses him again and then his brow and the bridges of his cheeks.

Alec knows that his family won’t understand. Especially when he’s been trained to let them break and crush him into a mold of their own making that doesn’t fit for him.

And Alec knows he could have done it. He could have held on till he was at least forty and then if it got too much, well accidents happen.

Clary is the spark that set off the inferno.

Because Alec has considered willingly giving up his runes rather than marry her but somehow saying no to his family was harder.

“I think I lost them a while ago.” Alec admits and it’s hard, “and no one is asking me how I feel. Just that I’ll have Clary and Jace to help me run the Institute—“

— like Jace who is a soldier but not a leader and Clary who is a little girl who knows nothing and refuses to learn can help —

“I think I’m tired.” Alec finishes lamely, a quiet admittance and he means so much more than just simple exhaustion. “And I’m glad you found me last night. I’m glad you took a chance on me.”

Because Alec’s not sure what would have been left of him in three days.

“Even if I don’t want to let you go back?” Magnus asks and he’s testing the water, and Alec who has spent his entire life denying himself for other people is done.

“Okay.” He agrees, because Jocelyn is in the council and

Alec blinks his eyes open, “hey the downworld knows Valentine’s alive, right? I didn’t find out until recently but you guys know right? It’s why people are being more careful right?”

“Oh darling,” Magnus says and Alec’s being kissed again and he’s not complaining but he’d like to know how to make it happen on purpose. “I did know, but thank you for telling me.”

Alec nods and then he realizes and he’s shocked.

“I’m your husband.” Alec says. “You married a shadowhunter knowing the shadowworld was about to implode.” And Alec can’t help it, he’s impressed by Magnus’ sheer arrogance. “Dealing with the Fairchild’s was worth this outcome.” He decides and it’s a testament to how much he already adores Magnus that he’s making the concession.

“ Fairchild? Clary? Was your fiancé Clarissa Fairchild?” And Alec nods even though he’s not sure what her actual first name is.

“They were going to marry you off to a mundane-raised, memory-wiped, sight-hidden unbloodied child?” Magnus is seething above him, his muscles bunching and his magic coiling in the air.

“Memory-wiped?” Alec asks, because that hasn’t come up. He would know, memory wipes are serious and he could have used it as an excuse. Not that he’s unhappy with where he’s at.

“I wiped them for a fee.” Magnus tells him dryly and Alec decides then and there that Magnus is quite obviously his soulmate.

“Can we make sure she never gets them back?” Alec asks, and it’s petty and cruel and Magnus grins at him and croons gently, like he’s absolutely delighted by the prospect.

“Yes, I think that can be arranged.” And then Magnus is scowling at the wall like he can set it on fire with the force of his glower and he probably can. “How should we do this?”

Alec blinks and then shrugs, “send enough fire messages to let them know I’m still alive and show up as freshly married to my own wedding?”

“Sounds splendid, I’ll pick our outfits, a united front?” Magnus asks and Alec smiles at him, charmed. “It’s likely you’ll be disowned on the spot.”

“Well it’s a good thing I can just take your last name.” Alec mutters because he knows what he’s doing. Alec knew the minute Magnus kissed him what he’d be losing.

He also got a glimpse of everything he’d be gaining.

The choice had been easy, it still is.

[manicpixxiedreambitch]

Vent Post.

When I was in seventh grade, I started having my mom curl my hair every morning before school. I remember sitting down in front of her while she curled my hair one morning and I asked her “Mom, am I pretty?” And she said “Yes. But your acne’s not. You should get into makeup so you can cover it” and so I did. You think that I was only told I was pretty growing up? No matter what I did to try and look good enough, pretty enough, it never was enough. I was doing it wrong. My sister picked on me for having body hair, legs, pits, down there, she even kept saying I had bushy eyebrows. And you know what I did? I cut my eyebrows off. And then I got picked on by her and my mom for not having eyebrows and cutting them off. My mom constantly got on me about lip hair (and a unibrow which, news flash, NEVER FUCKING EXISTED.) I couldn’t forget to shave my pits or nair or wax my lip without getting a comment on it. I was scolded for not caring enough about my hair, and then when I tried to style it I was doing it wrong. When I pulled it out I got complaints on it being frizzy. When I ate a little too much I got a lecture that I better quit eating so much or I’m gonna lose my metabolism and get fat. I got picked on by my mom and my sister for not wearing a bra- in elementary school! Yeah, I started developing a little earlier than other girls, hell I already was at the size of cotton balls when I was in second grade! But bras were too tight and uncomfortable and I got picked on by my mom and my sister for not wearing them until I was going into sixth grade. I was a little girl! Of course I didn’t want to use a bra yet! And when I noticed my hair wasn’t blonde anymore? Well I was devastated! Blonde hair was something that all pretty girls had. So I had my mom highlight it. There was always a nickname for something wrong with me. And it felt like nothing was ever done right. I’d get told that I sucked at fashion and then when I tried I got picked on for wearing weird outfits. I got picked on for having acne, and then I got picked on for wearing “too much makeup” to cover it! I couldn’t even like my own eyes! They were blue when I was little, but then they turned green and my mom couldn’t really figure it out what color they were. So I went and I hated those too! I was told to actually try more with my hair, so I followed my mom’s instructions. And then I’d go to school with curly hair and my mom would groan and say that I didn’t do it right, that I was supposed to brush out my hair in the morning, re wet it, and out more mousse in it, which was stupid because not only does that defeat the purpose of doing it the first time before I go to bed, but it also sends me to school with my hair looking and feeling worse- wet and crunchy! I couldn’t even have normal body parts. Big feet, weird, big nose. Yeah, I was told I was beautiful and pretty a whole bunch throughout my life, but I was also told I was ugly a whole fucking bunch, too. I know I am beautiful because I had to teach myself that. I had to sit my ass down in front of a mirror and fucking teach myself that I wasn’t ugly. That I am fucking beautiful. I looked at myself and realized that I didn’t look beautiful to myself. Just to everyone else. And everyone else is trying to base my beauty on someone who isn’t me. Which wasn’t fair. Shouldn’t I be my own standard for beauty? And I looked at myself and I said… do I really look all that bad? No. I look beautiful. I just don’t look exactly like Taylor Swift or Marilyn Monroe or any Hollywood stars I knew of. But I have pretty eyes, and a strong face shape, and now that I look at myself, I can’t find anything wrong with myself. So the next time someone dared to say I was anything less than beautiful I called them out on it and I shut them down. I know I’m fucking beautiful, because I had to fight to make myself realize that we as human beings are beautiful in our most natural state- the state we exist in to feel beautiful and comfortable to no one else but ourselves.