#it's my second fic ever owo

[fuzzyclink]

Wrote a Cirrus x Vesper fic! I originally posted this on my touchstarved blog here but I've been finding that my posts from there don't show up in any tags currently, so reposting here.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, priest kink, eating, food, humiliation, violence, spitting, bad BDSM ettiquette, sadism, kicking, blood/pain. Reader gender not described(pronouns/body).

Cloying

As the last full moon of the year draws closer, the paths of the city buzz with excitement. Though not everyone under the mountain prays to the Lunar God, plenty are happy to join in the merriment or make a profit off of people who are celebrating the festival. This time of year people cluster around the usually isolated church - vendors crowding around the base of the building with their wares. You've decided to join in the celebrations yourself, donning a black seasonal mask that covers your nose to forehead, with a small, delicate depiction of the moon going through various phases positioned right above your eyebrows.

Tonight is the official start of the festival, though anticipation has been brewing for the last week. As it's your first year here, you haven't been able to attend a Lunar Cleanse service, only hearing about it in bits and pieces from people at The Leaping Bear. Privately, you're a bit excited to experience something new. You've been so caught up in your search for a cure that you think some merriment for once would do you good. And, you're curious to see Cirrus lead the congregation through the ceremony. You've never seen him in front of a large group like that before.

The ceremony is starting shortly, so you make your way to the church. The streets are alive with festival-goers milling around. The air, usually damp and still, is filled with sweet scents. It's more humid than ever, hazy air rising from delicious round buns, steamed and stuffed with savory meats and vegetables. You see a nearby vendor lay out pale sesame rice balls on small plates, sticking to the fingers of people who tear into them hungrily. Another vendor is selling marshmallow filled cookies, covered in a thin layer of white frosting. On your way to the church, a stall selling candy catches your eye. You purchase some quickly, grabbing a bag of tiny, glittering silver candies. You pull open the narrow bag as you walk, placing a candy in your mouth. As you roll the sphere around on your tongue, a delicate flavor of jasmine fills your mouth, and you crunch the rest of it between your teeth happily. It's a delight to see the backbreaking worries of the city fall away, even if it's only for a short period of time.

The sounds and scents of the busy street fade away as you enter the church. The church is busier than you've ever seen it before, the building crowded with devotees sitting shoulder to shoulder in the pews. Even though it's crowded, everyone speaks in hushed voices. The building has been decorated with gleaming ribbons, strung along the tops of the walls. The placement of the ribbon leads you to think that few other than Cirrus would be able to place the decorations. You snicker to yourself quietly, imagining him wobbling on the tips of his toes to secure ribbons around the building. Or maybe, you think as your smile widens, he stood on a small stepstool? Your exploratory gaze falls upon Cirrus himself, standing at the front of the room. You immediately avert your gaze, feeling as if he would be able to sense your daydreaming just from your facial expression. He has a way of drawing guilt to the surface of your thoughts, bobbing to the top unavoidably like a cork in water.

You find a seat at the back of the room and slide into the end of a pew, crowded rows of benches lining the chapel in front of you. Your neighbor gives you a quick nod, their silvery silk mask glinting under the light of the candles before turning back to the front of the room. You clutch your candy in your hands, placing the bag on your lap. The room quiets as Cirrus takes his place at a podium. He wears the robes you've always seen him in, but in this moment they seem almost ethereal, glowing and shimmering in front of the candles. Silver hair cascades down his back as he stands resolutely before the crowd. His shoulders stand strong and the power he emits reaches you all the way in the back of the room. The crowd leans forward in anticipation.

"At this time of year we are able to begin anew," he intones, sweeping his hands out to the audience.

"The moon is pale and shining- a reminder of the ending of one year, and beginning of another. All of us gather to praise it’s light.

"All gather to praise", the congregation murmers in response. You hastily mumble some words, wishing that the service came with a tutorial. You hadn't realized there would be a call and response.

Cirrus continues. "The Night Air pierced by Silver Light presses down upon us. The Moon shines through us. We ask for it to illuminate our darkest faults, to wash them clean. Each of you have made grave errors this year," he sternly states, gazing out into the room. "Each of you have mistakes that you wish to release." You swear you can feel his eyes upon you, and wonder nervously about any possible mistakes you have made recently. Does it count that you hadn't brought your dishes to the counter at The Leaping Bear? Or maybe you’ve been too rude to the vendors when, time and time again, they have no news for your cure?

Cirrus's voice cuts through your thoughts.

"Let the strike of bells pull your guilt from you and release it. Let each toll into your heart and feel it dredge up the turmoil within. Bring your darkness out and let it whither in the light".

He stands commandingly at the front of the room, a bell the size of his fist resting in his gloved hands. He carefully swings his arm, the sound of the bell crisply ringing through the room. It's medium pitched and sharp, startling you in the quiet. You jolt a little, shifting in your seat. As it echos through the room, he paces softly across the front of the church. Another toll spreads through the space as he reaches the left side.

"Bring your sorrows up through your chest and release them with your breath," he instructs, a lecturer to an obedient audience. You try to obey, but your breath catches in your throat at the next ring - the sound so sharp and striking that it tears your attention away and sends a shock through your body. He continues to stride slowly at the front of the room, each subsequent ring of the bell growing softer and softer until you can barely tell whether he's rung it again or if the sound still lingers faintly in the air from the previous strike.

"Let your breath serve as a reminder to you of the life given to you, and of the light that will always return to you, even when the darkness feels crushing and all-encompassing. Just as you inhale and exhale, the moon changes and is lighted anew." He pauses for a moment, solemnly surveying the audience. You feel light and unburdened, more at peace than you have felt in weeks.

"With renewed spirits and lightened hearts, let us learn from those who have walked before us. In the first book of the Lunar Scripts..." Cirrus continues onwards, describing to the congregation a particularly (in your mind), dry and archaic passage from historical literature written long ago. Your eyes begin to close as his voice continues slowly on, the soft light of the chapel blurring in front of your half-lidded gaze. Your head starts to drop and you jolt yourself awake, shifting nervously in your chair and eyeing Cirrus. You suspect that he might have been facing the other side of the room when you started to doze off. He continues through the text, emphasizing certain points with a strident tone. It's clear that he knows the text well - but due to your lack of familiarity you're having a difficult time parsing the archaic phrasing. At times, you're not even sure it's in a language you know at all. You shift in your seat, fighting against the drowziness that seeps into your bones. You hope that the service will finish soon so you, and the rest of the worshippers, can join in the festivities outside. Your fingers shift on the wrapped candies in your lap and your stomach grumbles quietly. On a whim, you ease the top of the bag open, pressing a candy silently into your mouth. Maybe this will help keep you awake and your hunger at bay until the service is over.

"Silver Light, shining down upon us. We are bleached clean in your light. Glorious Celestial One, we are grateful for your protection in the last year, and returning brightness in this New Year. Before we celebrate your fullness through laughter and festivities, let us take a moment of silence to honor your watchful guidance". Cirrus leans onto the podium with the passion in his words. Everyone in the congregation stills, and the room falls silent. Light falls on Cirrus, draping over him and illuminating his hair like spun silver over his shoulders. He bows his mask towards the floor. You sit quietly, and as the silence stretches onwards, your eyes start to close again. You desperately pry them open, but between the warmth of the building, the dim lighting, and late hour, you soon find your head tilting to the side involuntarily. When your eyes close shut a third time, you desperately reach into your bag of candy for a distraction to help keep you awake.

To your horror, your fingers catch on the edge of the narrow bag, and the contents spill out in front of you, countless candies clattering across the stone floor. They bounce and tumble, each movement sounding thunderous in the silent room. You watch helplessly as the round candies careen across the flagstones, the furthest coming to a standstill at the feet of people three rows ahead of you. Masked faces turn to you curiously as people glance over their shoulders to see what the fuss was. Cirrus's gaze snaps to your face, pinning you in place like a moth on a board. His mouth twists when he sees that you're the one who caused the commotion.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry," you hurriedly breathe, sinking to the floor to gather what candies you can reach without disturbing those around you. The color is high in your cheeks, your hands sticky as you grab the candies nearby and press them into your pockets. Your gaze flits between the candies in front of you, scattered between the shoes of the other attendees but out of reach. You barely hear the end of the service, too mortified to raise your head or focus on Cirrus' words. The back of your shirt is damp with sweat. The congregation rustles to life as the ceremony concludes, the congregation impatient to finally listen to the music and enjoy the celebrations outside. You hover anxiously by your bench, standing and waiting for the rows to clear so you can gather up the mess you made. As the final attendees file out of the building, chatting to each other, Cirrus comes to stand beside you. His irritation rolls off him in waves and you shrink besides him, falling back down onto the bench without a thought.

"It's rather disrespectful, don't you think?" Cirrus says tensely, his words clipped and short. "Bringing food into the service. Distracting the church members. Irreverence on a sacred day. Such gluttony, hm?"

You have never had him this angry with you before, and your hands tremble in your lap where you twist them nervously. "Cir..Cirrus.. Father... Ah, I'm so so sorry, please, I'll clean them up right away. You're right, it was so stupid of me, I shouldn't have brought them in...I - I never meant to drop them, ppplease let me pick them up, I'll do it now..." You chance a look upwards, and the last bit of hope inside of you shrivels. He is silent, his face unmovable.

"You want to pick them up?" He asks softly. You nod, eyes fixed nervously on his face.

"I think your insatiable fingers will simply betray you again".

Your face falls, and you gesture out to him. "Sir.. Cirrus...I'll do it, I'll pick them up. Please, I'll do it right away,"

You sink to your knees and quickly stretch for one candy that's most of the way under the bench nearest to you, fingers scrambling across the dusty floor in your haste. Your heart stops in your throat when Cirrus's heavy, booted foot is placed onto your wrist.

"I said no," he hisses, the flat sole of his foot cruelly twisting against your skin. The bones in your wrist shift under the pressure.

"Your hands are clearly unreliable. And with your voracious hunger and desperation? Hmm, it's only fitting for you to use your mouth".

You lean back on your heels and crane your neck to look at him, wrist still pressed to the floor. "My mouth?"

"Yes. As starving as you are, we had better not let them go to waste." He places his hands behind his back impassively. "Begin."

You nod nervously and he lifts his foot off of your arm. You lower your torso to the floor with your arms, carefully picking up the small candy between your teeth. You can feel his icy gaze on your back. Chewing it quickly, you stoop further under the seats to grab the next nearest candy, shuffling forwards further on your hands. Even under the shelter of the bench, Cirrus's presence looms ominously behind you. You've just picked up the second candy when he speaks again, derision dripping from his words.

"In fact, I think it would be better if you didn't use your hands at all, hm?"

You twist awkwardly from beneath the bench, shuffling your weight back onto your heels. When you pull yourself upright in front of him, you see he's pulled out a narrow black rope. He steps behind you smoothly, pulling your arms behind your back and wrapping the rope around your wrists. A few firm knots later and your wrists are securely bound. Cirrus briefly checks the tightness by sliding the tip of his finger beneath the ropes and then stands.

He peers down at you, his mask an impenetrable shield. He can't keep a sneer from pulling at the edge of his mouth as he speaks. His anger is still palpable. "It suits you, my star. Perhaps this will teach you some restraint, since you are clearly struggling to learn. Continue."

You shift your weight forwards on your knees, testing the rope on your hands. It's tight but not unbearable. If you let your shoulders hang forwards the weight of your arms forces the rope to bite into your skin. But if you clasp your hands behind your back, it's tolerable. You lean all the way forwards, resting your torso on your knees. The spilled candies stretch out before you, some scattered as far as three rows ahead of you. Awkwardly, you scooch forwards, trying to move yourself over to a candy on the right. Your knees already feel sore against the pavement. You have much less control without the use of your hands, and you bash your spine into the underside of the bench. Pain radiates from your back and causes you to lurch forwards. Resignedly, you fully lay down, your torso on the floor and legs stretching out behind you. The floor is gritty and cool against your cheek, and you can feel the solidity of the stone through your clothes.

"There are many more to gather, my star. Best for you to progress quickly. Unless you'd rather I give you some *encouragement*, hmm?"

From the malice in Cirrus' voice, you feel pretty certain that you wouldn't like whatever his encouragement would entail. His foot comes to rest next to your ankle. The threat of it spurs you into action. You gather the candies under this row of pews with haste, twisting and contorting your body around on the stone to gather them in your teeth. The sweet jasmine flavor fills your mouth, polluted now with bits of dirt and sand from the floor. You look from side to side, your neck straining as you peer in the dim lighting. As you go from candy to candy, you pant harshly through your nose, mouth occupied. It’s difficult to progress with any kind of speed despite your efforts, and you work your way slowly across the ground, twisting and bending to shift from place to place. Your knees are starting to get rubbed raw, and your back aches from the strain of your motions. Your movements are becoming less precise as you grow tired, and you find yourself lunging for the candies with little finesse, eager to finish the job. One such motion scrapes the skin off your chin as you fall a bit too heavily on the floor.

Reaching the gap between the benches, you rest your cheek on the floor for a moment. The candies are fewer now, only beneath two wide benches ahead of you. You can feel the sweat stick to your skin. Your back burns, muscles furious from the repeated motion below the pews. Through your efforts, you've gained abrasions on your chin and cheekbone to accompany those on your knees. You close your eyes for a moment, gathering your strength.

Your body jolts when you feel Cirrus' boot come crashing into your ribs. "You think you've earned respite?" He speaks to you lowly, cooly. You squeeze your eyes shut, and find that his voice cuts into you. "You're dirty. Pathetic. Snuffling in the dust for grub like an animal." His disgust for you drips from every word. "Just minutes ago, you begged me to let you clean up. Told me how *quickly* you'd do it." On the last word he swings his leg again, this time slamming it into your gut. You gasp out a choked groan, wheezing. He continues on in a biting murmur. "I suspect that you cared more about currying my favor than righting your wrongs. I am not someone who can be plied with desperate words".

You cough a little, feeling a bruise bloom in your ribs as you do so. "Nno, I - I really am sorry, Cirrus, please, I'll continue. I want to clean it..." You feel a bit disgusted in yourself, but your desire to appease him and shame from your mistake prevails. You inch your way forwards to the next candies, painstakingly making your way beneath the benches. Cirrus walks to the row on the other side of the bench and stands there, waiting for you. You can see the faint shine of his shoes out of the edge of your eyes. Gathering the candies beneath this bench is harder. Your mouth and throat growing parched from your exertion and the endless sugar. You gasp on dust that rises from your movements. At some of the candies you find yourself resting for a moment, before quickly glancing to Cirrus’ feet and continuing again. Your back trembles as you shift forwards and you find yourself using your knees and shoulders more, doing your best to ignore how your skin screams at the friction. You've stopped clasping your hands together and they slump forwards limply, wrists aflame where the rope restricts them.

You start to feel anxious about how much is left. You've finally made it past the second bench. How many more are there? Surely you must be finished soon? You curse yourself. WHY would you be so stupid to try and eat them DURING the service? The delicate Jasmine flavor feels foul and cloying on your tongue. Glancing up desperately, you assess how many you have left to gather and realize that you only have the candies past the third bench to remove. Cirrus has walked ahead of you and stands at the remaining candies that have rolled out from under the bench. You realize, as he starts to move, that he was waiting for your attention.

He carefully lifts his boot and places it on top of the candy, grinding it into dust beneath his foot. With horror, you watch as he does this to each candy one by one, crushing each delicate silver orb into a fine, sugary powder. He drags the toe of his shoe through the mess, gathering it into a pile before he walks to the side. The powder clouds the dark leather. Cirrus waits for you, his expectation clear. Your breath hisses through your teeth as you pull your weary and aching body forwards. Pausing brings greater pain, each point of agony alighting with renewed vigor after the miniscule rest. Your clothes stick to you, damp with sweat and blood from your efforts. Reaching the edge of the powder, you shakily press your tongue into it, trying to pull it into your parched mouth. Your lips crack as you try to clean the mound up, each time leaving dust and damp remnants. You keep returning to it, trying again and again to remove it but only succeeding in spreading it more broadly upon the floor. With how dry your mouth is and your level of exhaustion, you’re unable to pick it up.

Your face slumps onto the stone next to the pile and a sob breaks from your chest. It's too much. There's nothing to be done. Your eyes squeeze shut as hot tears spill down your cheeks, leaving tracks in the grime. You curl up on yourself raggedly, body in a defensive ball. You can feel Cirrus's presence as he comes to stand by your shoulder. His clothes rustle slightly as he crouches. He grabs your chin, fingers sliding slightly through your tears. It's impossible to look at him. His voice feels gentle. "Your efforts, my star, have almost convinced me of your repentance".

"*Please*..." You croak out. You're not sure what you're asking for. His forgiveness, an end to all this, his help, rest.. Ciruss's thumb falls to your cracked lower lip.

"If you need help, you only must ask," he whispers to you.

He pulls your lips open and you feel something cool and wet fall against your tongue. Your eyes spring open to see a thin strand of saliva falling from his lips and into your open mouth. In this moment, it feels like a mercy. His jaw works and you open your mouth further yourself, accepting anything he would offer you. His spit pools in your mouth, almost refreshing after the relentless dust and sugar from the floor. It glints wetly as it falls. His hands slide to the back of your neck, carding through the damp hair at your nape for a moment. He holds the full weight of your head in his hands. His voice is as soft and as firm his fingers.

"So close, my star. You will continue. Leave your guilt behind".

Your heart trembles at that, the promise of forgiveness and his kindness so near.

You feel filthy. You feel beautiful in his touch. You feel like the stone you've spent so long inching across. His fingers slip softly through your hair and lower your head back to the ground. You feel him straighten more than you see it. With the most weariness you've ever felt before, you roll yourself to your front and gather the pile of dust into your mouth slowly, mouthful by mouthful. Your tongue and throat burn and it feels more as if the sugar tears your mouth than it does dissolve. You drag your damp jaw along the gritty floor, realizing at last that the pile is gone.

"You've done well to make amends.", Cirrus says, looking down at you in a heap at his feet.

It's then that your gaze falls to Cirrus's boots, right in front of you. They still have a fine smattering of dust from when he crushed the candies in front of you. Hazily, you blink at them, watching how the sugar dulls the reflection of the lights. With the very last dregs of your resolve, you shift forwards and lave your tongue through the dust on his boot. The boot shifts minutely, a quiet huff of surprise coming from him. You can tell he watches you as you do the best to clean his boots. Your exhaustion means that in some ways, you simply press your face and lips against them devoutly, your damp skin carrying away more grime at times than your mouth.

"What a precious, obedient little bootlicker", he breathes rapturously. "My devoted, gorgeous toy.”

Warmth sweeps through you at that, padding over your many aches and pains like a soft balm. Satisfied with the appearance of his shoes, you lay motionless on the floor. Dimly, as if to someone in a dream, you feel Cirrus unbind your hands and carefully lower your arms by your side. He rubs them gently, hushing you as you mumble in protest. You feel him reach below you and, with a motion that makes the world swing on it's axis, heft you into his arms.

"Is it ok, now?" You can't help but look for reassurance, your mind and body clinging to him as he carries you.

“Yes, little star. You are forgiven.”

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

Thanks so much for reading! This fic was inspired by sitting through church services over the holidays and the full moon rn. I was also inspired by this ask to Rotten Racoons (https://www.tumblr.com/rottenraccoons/703263691996545024/will-the-lis-spit-in-vespers-mouth-if-they-asked), which stated Cirrus would spit in Vesper's mouth as a reward for good behavior:D I wanted to manifest the idea of "getting punished for being disruptive in church". If you made it to the end, thank you! I'd love to hear what you thought!

[newtabfics]

wait holup, i wanna read a tentacle fic. Can I partake in your writing please? owo (i saw that and died XD)

Oh prepare yeself. Here these waters are dangerous. Alright got that outta my system.

Triggers for...imprisonment? Mentioned deaths. Uhhh...oh! Egg. There's eggs. Yeah so under the cut--

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The night of wood crunching underfoot and the men screaming still rang loudly in Y/N's ears as she blinked up at the darkened ceiling. She could barely make out the outlines of the stalactites as water dripped down.

She was stuck fast to a wall as she squinted, trying to see better as she tugged and writhed. She was once the first mate of an infamous ship that ravaged the seas. Now? She was stuck and trapped.

Y/N could barely hear movement in the dark and stilled, listening carefully. It was like something soaked was moving across the floor...towards her!

Her heart hammered so loudly she had wondered if it could hear her. She damned herself for always loving the thrill as she felt her trousers begin to dampen with more than just the sea water drenching her clothing.

A gasp couldn't stop when a tendril slid up her thigh. It didn't stop when she flinched. Only gripped at her clothing and ripped it away. She tried to jerk away but could only do so much with her arms and legs pinned to the wall.

As the tendril began to tease at her core, her body locked up, barely seeing the outline of the creature. She'd sailed the seas enough to know just what she was facing.

"Kraken," was the last word she ever uttered before it slid a thick tendril into her, pumping rapidly as several other tendrils slid up and around her body, tearing away at her remaining clothing as it began to pleasure her.

She couldn't cry out an "Oh gods!" of pleasure because it'd suddenly slid a tendril into her mouth. She choked and grunted as it slid carefully down her throat, pumping some fluid into her. Her stomach felt full, as though she'd just had a hearty meal as it kept pumping inside her.

Y/N's eyes rolled back blissfully when a second tendril slid into her core, poking and prodding at her womb entrance before spraying something warm against it. She couldn't stop the orgasm as it violently took over her, her body warming.

She wondered for a moment if it had to do with whatever it was feeding her. She wondered if this thing was doing everything it could to make sure she enjoyed herself.

She wondered what soft things it was put inside her, pumping straight into her womb before a larger, maybe the size of her fist, soft thing fell into her, stretching her as it passed through the tendril.

Y/N moaned happily, rocking her hips now. This seemed to please the Kraken as it continued to pump its tendril in her, sliding another into the third hole it found; her ass.

There Y/N stayed until the eggs hatched, where she would be used by many more offspring until their sire took her for itself into the deep, deep waters.

[scrunglepaws]

Yellow! I use this account to post my (Sonic) art and writing! I try to keep my queue full so I have at least one doodle to post a day. Any writing I get done is a bonus. :D (My Ao3 is also scrunglepaws!) I love all of the Sonic characters, but mostly focus on my favorites + my aus. Once in a while I post fanart of other peoples' fanstuff if I get the gumption! owo

My absolute favorite lil guys: Kit, Tails, Mangey, Nine, Metal Sonic, Tails Doll, Eclipse, Silver

Other guys I really like: Mighty, Ray, Chaos Sonic, Tangle, Surge, Dr. Starline, Mimic, Barry, Omega, Shard, Mecha Tails (the silver one), Rusty Rose, Sails, Froggy (No Place), Dive, Tilly, Thunderbolt

Favorite Character Matchups (x=romo, +=platonic): Nine+Mangey, KitxTails, Kit+Tails, Tails+Metal, Shadow+Metal, Tails+Shadow, Nine+Sonic

Likes/Follows will come from my main, scrungleCLAWS, just a heads up. I use that account to reblog cool art and things with my silly commentary (read: gushing usually) in the tags. I also post music I like and occasional mumblings. You should follow it to see other peoples' pretty art! If you want! 'w'

🌽WARNING: CORN ALERT!!! :D🌽

I am all about spreading joy, creativity, and positivity. I care a lot about the things I make and I hope that my passion shines through to make others happy, or even inspire. I'm also horrendously corny (you were warned!), but that's okay. At worse I'll give off second-hand embarrassment (I’m so sorry! 8C), but at best I'll attract people that aren't afraid to be earnest and cool and fun around me. That is to say: leave that super long comment, send that ask, draw/write that thing, formally request friendship (!?)! And if you're ever feeling shy, embarrassed, or like you're "just too much"… Think of this paragraph some person named SCRUNGLEPAWS wrote on the internet. You cannot possibly be more corny than me. It might even be illegal. Anyway, check out my sick aus:

🌈Kaleidoscope // #kaleidoscope au Fics: [Act 1] [Act 2] [Act 3] [Mangey Remembers (prequel)]

A scifi/survival/mystery starring Tails, Nine, and Mangey with a heavy focus on introspection and platonic love between friends. There's a huge layer of angst, hurt/comfort, and trauma above all the funky worldbuilding that's slowly revealed as the story progresses. And somehow, a bunch of silliness inbetween. // Sort of accidentally became a slowburn friendship between Mangey+Nine xD

🌊Someplace // #someplace au Fics: [Aquarius] [A Drop in the Ocean (prequel)] [planned sequel 'w']

A dysfunctional and slightly homicidal, but ultimately heartfelt and sweet KitxSails story. They're both adults struggling with trauma that is buried so deep that SURELY it won't pop up and affect the cute shit going on in the fic… Surely…  // This tag also encompasses Kit and Sails' backstories, including the fun worldbuilding expansion I did for No Place. Hence the au's name.

💜CaveTails* // #cavetails au Fics: [wip!]

Kittails + 50's-ish setting + Journey to the Center of the Earth/Lost World vibes + werefox Tails = fic that I can’t think of a name for, so it’s still called "CaveTails." Closeted gay research assistant Kit falls into the arms of a MOOOONSTER on a perilous expedition. Can the rest of the research expedition (Surge+the hooligans) save him in time? // Sort of a MangeyxKit fic- Tails is kind of an amalgamation of Tails, Mangey, and a werefox, so? (Just need a Nine/Kit fic and I'll have a complete set xD)

🌿The Kelpie // #folklore au Fics: [wip!]

Fantasy setting where fae creatures and normal mobians are at odds with each other. Tails tries to use his magical prowess to craft something that will surely take care of the local kelpie problem. Well, either that or he'll be met with a grisly underwater death. // Gasp, another kittails fic, who woulda thunk?? This time Kit gets to be the monster, though. And it's not really all that romantic.

☣️No Heroes Zone // #nhz au Fics: [Broken Bond] [Takeout]

Au where the dynamics between the characters have shifted to make everyone more towards that middling grey area. Eggman isn't as villainous, Sonic isn't as heroic. No one really has a good time. It's… Really hard to summarize this au? xD; It's a collection of episodic stories with no real overarching plot. Mostly focuses on Tails and Metal. Lots and lots of angst from everyone, with fun bits sprinkled in. Like: Maria's still alive and shares an apartment with Shadow. That's nice. :3

Other Stories/Ideas I Might Expand Upon: - The Last Fox (x): Knuckles/Tails swap au - Nine's Shadow (x): The Grim did have variants, they’re just dead / Zombie Tails - Rascals (x): Shadow has to take care of the main cast who have all mysteriously turned into babies - BFF AU (x): Tails Doll makes a Kit Doll for a friend - Alien* (x): Silver is an alien that crash lands on Mobius

That’s all for now! Have a fruitful/cornful day! :D

[poolboyservice]

(look here for more context)

well, well, well, isn't it by far the longest list I'll probably ever make in my existence as an alter, let alone our life? let's just cut to the chase: I'm ranking all of my fanfiction on Quotev. And by golly is there a lot!

Keep in mind that while I do have original stories such as Comet Boy, I am gonna be ranking solely my fanfiction.

Under this cut, we're going through a ranking of 11-1, going from least to most personal favorite, which is the total fanfiction I've written ever basically. This is excluding quizzes and unfinished fanfiction that aren't published. We'll start with the ranking, then I'll reblog with the quizzes, and unfinished works later, because the ranking alone is really long.

ALSO, TO CLARIFY: All the fanfiction I am mentioning is on Quotev. There's not really any other way for you to read them atm, but I am planning on publishing some to AO3.

I'm genuinely terrified to post this, but without anymore fluff, let's go.

RANKING ALL PUBLISHED FANFICTION

#11: child of a vampire, lover of a killer (sus mcr x reader fic owo?), MCR parody fic, link

This is my least favorite fanfiction of all time. I fucking regret writing this disgrace and I hate it with my heart. Ignoring the fact that I didn't put my heart into it, everyone LOVED this fanfiction the most, and for a while it felt like no matter what I posted or what I did, the only thing that mattered to my followers was just that stupid parody fic. I don't think I ever really hated something I made until I made this. I'm glad more people are starting to gravitate towards my more genuine works but god.

#10: Something's Not Right..., killjoys au, sigh... link

So you know how I said I fucking HATED child of a vampire? Well this one is a second. It's not really the idea I hate (au where the Killjoys names are taken literally), actually, I kinda made a revamp of this fic after with some changes!, but the execution along with frankly its revamp is bad... I am horrible at life advice, but dear future me: DONT DO THIS EVER AGAIN. The plot is basically nonexistent, and you can hardly even read what Fun Ghoul and Kobra Kid say, because for some reason I thought people fully understood what the fuck they were saying, so I didn't provide ANY translations!! It's not the worst I've written (flashbacks to my creepypasta era), but god it's definitely bad.

now, finally, with my grievances out, this is where I actually show you stuff I don't hate with my bones

#9: The Travel To Headbutt THE OLD GOAT, goatsim x mcr mashup, link

not really bad, per se, honestly, I could even say it's cute. It follows my average gameplay in goat simulator basically, featuring a totally underused (sarcasm) Bulletproof Heart reference in the end. It's only lower because I didn't even finish the first chapter. Surprisingly, this is a fanfic a lot of people like, despite its.. weirdness.

#8: Slightly Tilted (A Killjoy AU Fic), title explains itself, link

This one isn't actually that bad, and it actually has finished chapters. The dialog with Kobra Kid is ten times better, and I even explained some of the AU (at least with the characters) so there's given context! Honestly, I only put it in a lower ranking because I'm salty i never mentioned the Girl and the constantly changing perspectives. At least it was one perspective per chapter. Also, this becomes a more common problem with some fanfiction I wrote in 2022, but for some reason I wrote dialog like " This ". Whenever I get to posting all of these lovely cringefics on AO3, I will be fixing that, along with updating that on Quotev. For the meantime, we will need to deal with it.

#7: Confused Spider, killjoy au, link

Honestly, it's not bad, but it's really not good either. Unfinished, unnatural interaction. You can tell I have never talked with a neurotypical person or really anyone in years. I don't really like how Party Poison is characterized. I don't know what I could really say here, it's just really a nothing fic. Dialogue spacing problem like " this " still persists.

#6: Odd Place (Party Poison x Reader), killjoy y/n fic basically, link

Unironically? It's bad, really bad. Despite this taking me an entire year writing, and me actively avoiding every y/n cliche I saw, I accidentally made this fanfiction even more like a y/n self insert. The grammar is bad, the prologue is shit, the paragraphs are completely disorganized, the characterization is horrid, and so help me god if I see another "author's note" in ANY PART OF THIS FIC. Ironically? Genuinely a funny fanfic. It is so bad, it ends up being funny. I 100% recommend getting on call with your friends and reading this out loud because you will be howling by the end of it.

#5: pretty, pretty fangs, Twilight oneshot, link

Yeah, pretty startling surprise compared so everything you just saw, right? Even more shocking, it's actually turning 1 year old in 2 days as of writing. This was written in honor of one of my friends writing a really good AU where instead of Bella and Edward, it's Bella and Alice, where I then wrote about Jacob and Edward. I actually never read or watched Twilight when I wrote this, so I was really using memes and what said friend has said about the characters. My friend and other people really liked it, so I think I characterized Jacob and Edward pretty good in this. As said, I haven't read or watched Twilight in any way except for maybe the very last movie, so I really know nothing lol. enjoy your werewolf-vampire yaoi ig

#4: Coffee Machine (Frerard) [clickbait title], not frerard, but a MCR AU about ghosts, link

Contrary to what the title says, it has nothing to do with Frerard! I just felt like being a dick and added it to the title to catch the viewer's attention. Honestly, I kinda like this one. I was more than aware about how ridiculous the concept is that Gerard Way is literally a coffee machine, but despite that, I still treated this with respect and took it seriously. This was/is one of my more popular fanfiction amongst my followers, aside from the wretched 'child of a vampire', and I guess I see why. Little bonus fact: This was inspired of a fanfiction I heard of where apparently Gerard was a housefly, do what you will with that.

#3: A Second Chance, Take a Life, Another Mission, MCR zombie AU, link

A dark twist on a fanfiction I wrote before this that has yet to be mentioned, but will show up later. Honestly, out of all of these, this one is frankly the longest fanfic I wrote, both in length, and how long it took me to write this. Like, I think chapter 1 alone took me three months, and chapter 2 took me seven. One of my older fics, yes, but I think it aged pretty good for the most part. There are some gripes I have but they're mostly personal, rather than anything in terms of actual writing skill. I will say though, I feel with how I described things and stuff, this should've been an animation rather than a text.

#2: Burning Bolts, scientist au, link

Despite this being only 1 chapter long, and franky really silly, this is one of my personal favorites. Sure, it is very unrealistic for Gerard or even literally the laws of science and physics, but I genuinely had fun with it. I was actually inspired by one of my childhood shows, The Adventures of Figaro Pho. Honestly, one of my regrets is really not continuing on this. There isn't much I can really say.

and, finally...

#1: Zombie Disco, MCR zombie AU, link

This.. I have a lot to say about this one specifically. To start, wow is this writing and storyline actually insane. Most of this was written on mobile, and it really shows. The dialog spacing issue is EXTREMELY bad here, the extra spacing between paragraphs, the drawings I did for this one, the exaggerated grammar (i.e. "WHAT THE FUUUUCK?!"). THE BONER JOKE. This has it all, this was my Frankenstein's monster. This is my baby. I have no words, it's genuinely hilarious. Ironically, this is my favorite fanfiction, and it's one of the earliest fanfictions I wrote. I have changed a lot in progress and it really shows if you look at what I write now vs. this fanfiction. I would hate but honestly, I love it. The sole reason this even happened was because I was having a horrible panic attack in the middle of the night, and in an attempt to calm myself down, I wrote the entirety of the first chapter, and I liked it so much afterwards, I published it. This fanfiction means a lot to me, even if it's probably the worst I have ever written, writing skill wise. Currently, I'm actually rewriting this, and yes I will include the infamous joke in some fucking way because I don't think I could've written anything funnier than having Frank Iero comparing a zombie's involuntary craving of flesh to a boner. I'm sorry, I'm being like a 12 year old rn, I don't care, that's funny!! 2022 me was whack.

and... that's it! that took me a long time to do but hey, I did it. I feel really scared of posting it but it's whatever.

[auniverseforgotten]

I have been summoned! For the characters/fandoms currently giving you brain worms (we all Know it's FGO, but feel free to improvise uwu): 7, 12, 13, 14, 18, 23~ owo

OH BOY HERE WE GO thanks for the ask uwu

I'm gonna put this under a read more right now because I know this'll be longer.

7. Is there a piece of clothing you think [character] is particularly fond of/that you imagine them wearing a lot or like to draw them in?

OMG you started on a nice one ty friend <3 as you well know I love coats,,,so much,,,fabric go swish. So one thing for me is Salieri wearing his first ascension coat even in second ascension BECAUSE HE SHOULD HAVE COAT. COAT GOOD. Also other people wearing each other's coats,,,Salieri wearing Mozart's, Mozart wearing Salieri's.

The avenger agenda trio of Jalter, Dantes, and Salieri all wearing each others. Everyone putting their coats on Lobo because he's the goodest boy.

BUT ALSO ever since I found out about hanakihan's ruler!Salieri oh my GOD I have been FERAL I mean LOOK AT HIM I want this actually in game IMMEDIATELY he looks AMAZING and I would kill for a gentle, beloved Ruler Salieri TwT

[This also continues outside of Fate, like with my favorite character ever Nick Valentine, forever thinking of him offering his coat to the Sole Survivor because he's such an old school gentleman.]

12. What's the funniest or craziest AU idea you've ever come up with?

OKAY since I already mentioned the teaching AU [which yes did start with one Mozart/Salieri fic], this time I'll talk about the Alter Ego Salieri AU!

So this is really self indulgent and proooobably not really lore compliant but this is fanfiction so it doesn't matter! :D So basically it starts with the end of lostbelt 1, with Mozart in Salieri's head As He Does, but when the lostbelt closes and everyone is unsummoned, he's really terrified Salieri won't be brought through so he just fuckin digs his teeth in and refuses to be evicted from Salieri's body.

Cut to Salieri being summoned in Chaldea and realizing something's Not Right and then realizing the Not Right is OOPS AMADEUS STAYED.

From there the reason why i love it so much is they are really tempered by their love for each other. The Man in Grey wasn't able to reestablish within Salieri's spirit origin, which should have rendered him nonexistant, but Mozart Knows him, knows him in life and in death, and so this Salieri is far closer to how he was in life. This is actually why I decided on an Alter Ego, since this Salieri is an aspect split from the Avenger recorded in the throne of heroes, and because he was held together by Mozart's desire to see his friend whole again. And on the flip side, after realizing Mozart has to live in his mind, now, Salieri actually gets therapy and starts taking care of himself so that Mozart can flourish too. Especially since he doesn't want any lingering selfhatred or hatred for Mozart left over from the Man in Grey to send Mozart spiraling.

It's ALSO really fun because this Salieri is really chill and kind, and so Chaldea's existing Mozart reaches out to him to rekindle their friendship [and possibly more] and the Mozart in Salieri's mind goes FERAL because um WHO??? THE FUCK ARE YOU???????? YEAH YOU'RE ME BUT GET YOUR OWN. So the first time Chaldea Mozart tries to probe about a relationship, the Mozart in Salieri's head is like "you know what the Man in Grey was right let's~ kill him~~ <3 and Salieri just waves it off and works on helping him work through it because no one else could be for him but his own, of course.

Also they're stupidly OP together because it's my AU and I say so <3 the NP is either ST or AOE, I haven't decided yet, but it's a chorus so divine it sounds like death as a mixture of both, and Mozart appears from Salieri's cloak for it <3 and in the NP animation Mozart has his mask from his final ascension but it's shot through with red, black, and gold, and overall his outfit palette is much darker because Salieri's coat.

First ascension is a lot like Salieri's canon second ascension, just with the coat from his first plus some more white accents. Second ascension the coat gets more detailed, more dashes of white and gold lace through his overall design, and he gains a fiery aura,,,ring,,,thing behind him, like the one Mozart has in his final ascension but with a little more flame, and he has Mozart's weird...angel things. And then final ascension Mozart actually manifests kinda like how Orochi does with Ryouma, hanging around and wrapped around Salieri's shoulders like the world's most annoying scarf. Salieri has a lot more white, gold, and some purple, whereas Mozart retains a lot of black and red in this ascension.

One more detail with them is Salieri changes his appearance in terms of like...energy and vitality as well, looking haunted and worn still in first ascension, healthier in the second, and then fully revitalized in the third. Mozart, as a counterpoint, retains an air of frailty around him in their third ascension, not to imply that Salieri is stealing his lifeforce but to show that the Russian lostbelt took its toll and some scars, some trauma you never fully heal from. Salieri worries over him ENDLESSLY, can often be seen gently pushing him to the kitchens to cook him a meal or to their quarters to get him to rest. Mozart complains Loudly about this, but fondly.

Actual thoughts with outfit and detail aren't fully finalized, I'll post them when I have them ;w; same for skills and the like.

13. What's a character or ship you haven't written/drawn yet but would like to some day?

Hmmm this one's a hard one because I have a million fic ideas in my head, but so many of them refuse to come out, or I feel intimidated or worried that my writing won't be good enough for them orz

BUT a big one for me is I really wanna write Jalter/Boudica, pooooossibly ending in Boudica's class changing to avenger?? BUT the reason I really want to write this ship is I HATE HATE HATE what typemoon did with Boudica and her lore and I just. I want someone to show her it's okay to be angry, that it's okay to hate, and Jalter would be so perfect for it. For breaking her out of the "everyone's big sister" Boudica shape. I have a tiny bit? Of this written up? But I don't like most of it, they're both really hard characters to pin down for me.

Jalter in general is hard for me to write because she has so many layers and she changes so much throughout the FGO story, but honestly the harder part of this is Boudica. Because to really fully grasp what I have to do I would need to reread Septem and her interlude and they did her...so so dirty. I can read actual history fine and work with that but typemoon just. Made choices with Boudica and I haven't been able to bring myself to reread her stuff in preparation.

I also have a ton of fionn/diar wips in my docs but it's hard to work on them,,,they aren't RIGHT

Also BediMer,,,and Bedivere interactions with the knights in general,,,I'm so soft for him,,,,

14. Is there a character or ship you were so sure you would never write/draw but now you've changed your mind?

Yeah so when I first got into fate it was because of YOU, WOLFIE, and I got really attached to Diarmuid pretty fast. And then I got to the North American singularity and Fionn was SUCH AN ASSHOLE TO HIM and I just hated Fionn on instinct ngl. But then I was looking up...either just Diarmuid or something else, and I stumbled on teatitty's blog and all of their fate posting changed E V E R Y T H I N G

Because, like most servants, typemoon only really grabbed a piece of Fionn, but by reading through her fate blogging and her sharing from extensive celtic mythology knowledge, I learned that the real Fionn and Diarmuid's relationship was. Very different, and that the pursuit was much later than most of the Fenian cycle, and wildly out of character for Fionn from mythos.

So after that I DEVOURED all of Tea's fate content and they got me hooked real bad on fionndiar [and other ships], and I have tentatively written some out but I just don't think they're good enough to share sdzfxcgv but yeah went from a NOtp to an Otp real quick w that one XD though I am a multishipper at heart so I do have other Diarmuid ships,,,and Fionn with his various wives,,,and snakecharmer [fionn/quetz/yan]because Tea again,,,,

18. Type [charater]'s name and tell us what the autocomplete suggests as the next word

So I think I did this wrong sdfxcgvh but when I typed Salieri the next word was just 'is' XD So I kept hitting words until I got a sentence and got:

Salieri is the best way to get the best of the world.

I kept going too but it got weirder [added on 'to be in the same room as the first time in the past and i think it was a good idea'] SO. I DO AGREE HE'S THE BEST WAY TO GET THE BEST IF THE BEST IS ANGST BECAUSE THIS MAN CANNOT CATCH A BREAK

23. Has your favourite character/ship changed over time?

I guess I kinda answered this in 14 already hmm. But honestly I've been a multishipper all my life, so not really? Every ship that my silly little brain latches onto is loved equally uwu it's just that Salieri has the brain in his grasp rn XD

WOW THAT GOT LONG THANKS SO MUCH WOLFIE <3

Ask game is: here if anyone wants it or wants to send more to me uwu

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

17, 18 & 27 for writing asks owo

Of course! Thank you for the ask. 😁

17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?

Okay, I definitely can't remember the last thing I learned doing research (because this happens often), but I did find out that fruits can have meaning and what those meanings were for Ambassador to Madness.

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

Oh goodness! This is such a tough question so I'm definitely going to have to choose one from this year since I'm in the process of narrowing that down for end of the year stats.

I think my actual favorite line comes from the new chapter of Just to See You Happy when Bilbo and Balin are talking about Balin leaving for Khazad-dum.

“Much like Erebor, the loss of Khazad-dum is an injustice that we can finally correct. Are you asking if our previous adventure still affects me? Well, lad, doesn’t it us all?”

A close second is from the "Webcam" drabble I did in February:

“Not the butter, you brute!”

27. Is there a fic you were nervous to post/share? Why?

Most of my spicy content I get nervous about posting. Just because I have 0 experience in it and I use other fanfics and my own preferences to guide my writing. In fact my concept of sex is so academic, there are several kinks that I want to explore, but I don't think I would EVER be brave enough to post. 😅

Send me fanfic writer asks.

[essayofthoughts]

Same for you: 12, 19, 23 owo

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

Ripley.

Like. If we're going for the villain pick, Ripley. I don't think you should think she's a good person - she's not - or that she's nice a woobie or something. She's fucking awful! But she's also awful in a really human, engaging way and I find her so fun to poke. I think a lot of people kind of forget the pure banality of evil, the way these people can have really simple, dull motivations - Ripley wants power and knowledge and she doesn't care how she gets it. Everyone is just a tool or a stepping stone in the goal of that.

And she's canonically a foil to Percy, so that makes her REALLY USEFUL in analysing him - and him in analysing her! - so for all of those people who like a bit of dark!Percy like... Ripley! She is right there!

And she's such a bitch. She refuses to swear despite being someone who tortures people, she's clever enough to replicate guns from second and third hand reports, she's always looking to her own advantage - and she's just. Awful! She's exactly the kind of person who looked at the structural inequality of the Dwendalian Empire and decided to do the amoral shit others got away with because of wealth and when she got arrested for it assumed it was purely because of class differences and not because she's just the Worst.

And the thing is these days there's so much moralising! Oh the villain must be woobified, oh they never did anything wrong at all ever (MCU Loki, Kylo Ren, even the Betrayer Gods in CR!) and frankly fuck that.

Ripley did do shit wrong and that's why I find her engaging. She wilfully tortured people despite it being useless for information gathering! She made guns and spread them around purely to fuck with Percy! She's an awful human being and sometimes it's really fun to look at that in the distance. Over there. Way over there. Down the barrel of a sniper rifle.

Yeah.

If we're doing non-villain, minor-character fic... it's Desmond, it's fucking Desmond, I know he's not really "Unpopular" so much as "ignored" but I don't care! I will fight you all on this hill, that Desmond Otham is so revealing as to Percy's own perception of his own guilt and failure to his family ("I want you to spend the rest of your life making up for the things you allowed to happen" says Percy and WHAT THINGS Percival! This lad is a carriageboy! He's about the same age you were when the massacre happened! What the fuck do you expect him to blame himself for!? Now you blaming yourself on the other hand...)

Plus I just think he's neat! I think he's a great example of someone with a lasting consequence from Percy's reckless actions - one of those people Percy mentions who may not see them as heroes for reasons that are completely justified. And if he is the courier or returns to Whitestone and takes up another job - he's got that reminder the rest of his life. Even away from Vox Machina, he has his maimed hand.

I think he's really cool, fuck everyone who disagrees.

19. you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like...

N/A, I think? There's nothing I like that I'm mad, ashamed or horrified over that I can think of. I like the things I like and I know why I do so I've largely resolved any conflicts I'd have of that kind. I've definitely figured some things out writing fic that kinda annoy me (i.e. I can write smut pretty easily when there's trauma and mental fuckery involved but not like... on it's own) but that's fanfic more than dealing with fandom as a whole or the canon itself.

So uh. N/A!

23. ship you've unwillingly come around to

Again, I think N/A? I don't generally ship things, not to like... shipwar, this is my OTP or else kind of deal. I think that kind of thing is actually really unhealthy and often hoping for that ship can cause people to disconnect from the canon itself in order to back up their warped reading of the text, plus it just sets people up for disappointment! I'm a big believer in creating ships purely for the "I guess this could be neat!" kind of thing, and I don't generally get into it more than that.

Perc'ahlia is the exception, but that wasn't unwilling. They gave me too many fantastic squishy feelings and thinky thoughts, I didn't even hesitate.

🔥 choose violence ask game 🔥

[softladyhours]

I posted 2,174 times in 2022

97 posts created (4%)

2,077 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@rat-that-writes

@maxthelocalemeraldmayor

@the-moon-pal

@lady-of-the-spirit

@skeletalheartattack

I tagged 550 of my posts in 2022

#rat&lt;3 - 156 posts

#softie speaks - 77 posts

#markiplier - 42 posts

#unreality - 26 posts

#matt murdock - 25 posts

#thanks for the ask! - 24 posts

#goncharov - 24 posts

#fic rec - 23 posts

#not mine!!! - 21 posts

#markiplier egos x reader - 21 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#also this is making me realize that i think i would be a werewolf if it came down to vamps or werewolves and i…. idk how i feel about that

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

how babey are the egos on a scale of 1-10

dark: 1/10. most of the time he is smooth sexy bastard man but sometimes he is just in need of cuddles. but even when he wants cuddles hes just like in denial about it

damien: 10/10 the most babey ever . constantly 🥺 at you in search of cuddles and kisses the boy is so touch starved when u kiss him he melts every time

actor: 4/10 usually just whiny little dog of a man not really babey material but when hes sleepy he is just 🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕💕

illinois: 5/10 too suave and cool and sexy to be babey usually but sometimes he just cant stop himself from uwu-ing

yancy: 10/10 OHH BABEYYY !!! <3333 the snuggliest man ever. constant heart eyes constant need to be held constant hand holding just sksdfhjfgdd!!!! owo

engineer mark: 7/10 when around the crew he is Not Babey (well… 99% of the time he isnt…) but get him alone and the boy is just 😄💞🥺☺️💘💗🥰😍 he is so touchy he just gotta grab u and just need to look at ur pretty face

Omg these boys make me so softyttttt

- Dark is ofc a big house cat and so he’d VEHEMENTLY DENY any desire for affection or whatever but then he’s practically laying across u ANY chance he gets jshdjsjskskdj I just want him to rest his head in my lap while I give him head pats😭

- DAMIEN WOULD BE ALL NUZZLY N SHIT HES ALSO A HOUSECAT BUT ONE OF THE SUBER CUDDLY AFFECTIONATE ONES (dark has to get it from somewhere right? Lmao) I feel if ur touching damien, the moment your hand leaves his body he unconsciously shifts closer chasing ur touch. Same w kisses I lub he

- Actor is, in fact, a pathetic wet puppy dog of a man and now I’m imagining him coming home from a day of filming and maybe he had to do a really emotionally draining/intense scene and just had a rough day in general so the second he sees you when he gets home he just kind of does sad puppy dog eyes and grabby hands at u and then u both take a bath and have some wine just tryna get him out of that headspace rUAHH I WANT TO TAKE CARR OF HIM!!!!🥺🥺🥺🥺

-illi 67% of the time is just,,,, the hORNiEsT MAN A L I VE and just always trying to fluster u or act super suave and hawt and shit but then you do something super endearing he just internally screams and can feel his soul leave his body for a sec🙃🫠🫡 (bonus points if he’s silently pining and just miserable bc ur just sO PRECIOUS HE PHYSICALLY CANNOT STAND IT!!!!!

- YANCY WOULD HAVE HIS HAND IN UR BACK POCKET EVERY CHANCE HE GOT!!!!!!!!!!! He’d just be so casually affectionate and touchy bless him you’d be just hangin out at lunch and y’all are listening to the conversation at the table and he just kinda wraps an arm around ur waist with a little kiss to ur jaw and it’s just !!!!!!!!! SO NICE!!!!!!!!!!!! I feel like despite his anxious/insecure tendencies whenever he’s in a comfortable atmosphere he’s just casually very confident and self assured and I just😩😩😩😩

- DONT! GET! ME! STARTED! ON! ENGINEER! MARK! HES SO NEEDY AND BABY AND I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!! Like yes he is a very capable hard worker who’s very passionate about his work but also he sees you doing your work as captain sometimes and his heart just kinda palpitates a bit sugrisudjdj no matter how much he’d deny it he PREENS under ur praise and will do almost anything just to make i smile and I just AAAAAAAAAAAAA the second u get him alone he’s putty in ur hands and just wants love and affection. Give it to him. Now. Do it.

248 notes - Posted May 16, 2022

#4

Drew a little something based off a pic from bestie @rat-that-writes 🥰🥰

@markiplier

251 notes - Posted August 14, 2022

#3

Freckles

Darkiplier x GN!Reader

Warnings: None that I can think of, just domestic fluff with a sprinkling of angst :)

Summary: Dark is feelin sappy and sentimental (with a sprinkling of heartache, for taste)

AN: I’m obsessed with the concept of freckles and moles being the places where past soulmates loved to kiss you the most, so I took that and ran with it -- I hope you enjoy!

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

It is a quiet Saturday evening.  You have been able to keep Dark away from any extra work successfully, using your sweet kisses and loving promises.  After spending the day in each other’s quiet company, away from the chaos of the other egos, you’ve found yourself laying across the couch with your legs across Dark’s lap.  His gentle caresses along your calf and knee never fail to spark a few butterflies in your stomach.  He had set up the record player to play a variety of moony love songs—as much as he tries to conceal his inner romantic, it makes you so giddy.

You have a book in hand, one that you’ve been trying to make time to read for ages, and Dark simply sits with closed eyes in quiet contemplation.  You can’t recall the last time you had seen him quite this relaxed. His features are soft, angelic even, and occasionally he quietly hums along to whatever song is playing, his deep bass rattling your bones ever so slightly.  It is in this meditative study of your lover that you notice a single freckle, right to the side of his chin.  You can’t help but recall a video you had seen in passing on the internet.

“Hey, Dark?” you ask, careful to keep your volume low.  There is honestly a good chance he has fallen asleep—he could be such an old man sometimes.

You hear a gentle Hm?  His eyes open slightly to look at you, bleary but full of affection.

“Did you know that, apparently, some people think that prominent moles and freckles are the spots where your soulmate in a past life kissed you the most?”

He smiles gently, “That’s fascinating, darling.  May I ask what prompted such an observation?”

You set your book to the side, readjusting so that you’re sitting next to Dark, halfway in his lap.

“I can see that your soulmate in a past life loved to kiss you right—” you place a gentle kiss, “—here.”

It takes everything in Dark to maintain his composure as he is overcome with visions of the past.  He remembers the way that you would kiss him—no, not him but Damien—in that exact spot every time he passed an exam with flying colors.  He remembers noticing the handful of freckles across his chest or the mole on his shoulder, but now realizes that those were never there on Damien’s body. They were, however, placed in almost the same exact spot you would litter kisses whenever Damien would let you be in control for the night.  An almost foreign heat rises to his cheeks, but then he sees you.  He notices the small spot under your jaw where he—Damien—would kiss you to tease and fluster you.  He sees the place on your forehead where Damien would always place a gentle kiss to calm and comfort you.  But Dark can see you now, your brow furrowed in concern.  He forces himself back to the present, placing a kiss on your forehead and pulling you into his arms.  

You’re caught a little off-guard, but you reciprocate immediately.  You’ve seen that look in his eyes before, mostly here and there when you first met.  It was a sort of deep sadness, as if he knew something you didn’t.  You’d always wanted to voice your concerns, console him if needed, but you had been so shy then.

“Is everything okay, Dark?” you ask, timidly, not wanting to upset him further.

He squeezes you tighter, taking a shaky breath.  “Everything’s fine, my heart.”

The pet name makes you blush.

“I suppose I’m just feeling sentimental tonight,” he continues, pulling away from you, but not too far.  He still holds you close but can’t seem to look you quite in the eyes.  “I am simply so grateful to have you in my life.”

You smile at him, gently turning his face to yours and kissing him tenderly. “I love you,” you murmur, pulling away to look at him.  He looks back, his dark eyes soft and adoring.

“I love you too, my sweet.”

You both settle back into each other’s arms, appreciating the music and each other’s presence. Resting your head on his shoulder, you close your eyes, allowing yourself to doze.  Dark breaks the silence one last time.

“Also, just for your information,” he whispers, “I’m sure that you are the reason I have that freckle on my chin.”

You smile and let out a small huff of amusement before replying, “Yeah, sounds about right.”

As Dark hears your breathing even out, it takes everything within him to not let his glassy eyes shed a tear.  His brain is swarmed with painful nostalgia and the misery of having to keep your entire past from you.  The secret bears heavily on what little soul he has left.  He won’t succumb to the misery, though.  You wouldn’t want that.  He instead chooses to focus on the fact that you are here now and that, in and of itself, is more than he could ever deserve or ask for.

273 notes - Posted September 7, 2022

#2

how egos respond to u going “pspspspsps” at them

dark: i mean it gets his attention but he will be grumpy about it afterwards

damien: the boy is so clueless as soon as he hears it he is looking around all concerned then he sees u and just “darling!!🥰💕”

actor: is GREATLY offended that u would do this to him. absolutely heartbroken. he still responds to it tho

yancy: he does it BACK AT YOU like a CHALLENGE

illinois: IMMEDIATELY responds and walks over to u, what a good boy

wilford: will put out his gun, probably

I’m LOSING my MIND over this oml

Dark would give you a death glare but I think if you pet him affectionately he would begrudgingly accept his new role of house cat

DAMIEN!!!! Y/N and Celine would have a running bet to see how many times Y/N can get his attention that way without him noticing anything wrong. Let’s just say Celine owes Y/N a LOT of money

Actor would be such a pissy bitch baby about it but I think as long as you gave him some good love and affection he’d forget about it quickly lol

YANCY???????? The mental image of Yancy and Y/N aggressively spspspspss ing at each other has me ROLLINGGG

I think illi would lowkey like it just bc he’d feel special being the only one you pspspspsp at sjhfjejsj

yea Wilford’s a simple man. You spspspsp and he pulls out his gun idek skdjjdjs

660 notes - Posted May 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Inspired by @your-local-eddie-munson-slut ‘s Matt Murdock version—I couldn’t resist lmao

2,044 notes - Posted August 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[broccolibaabe]

Thank you so much to the people who participated! I've closed responses but now I can tell y'all what it was for Owo. I decided that I am going to post my first ever fic on ao3 🥳.

So all the answers in the first question stood for different Redacted listeners and all the answers in the second stood for different tropes ^^. I assigned different flowers to stand for the listeners (This is who won in order:

Stargazer Lily: Freelancer Sunflower: Baabe Tulip: Lovely Carnation: Sweetheart Lily: Sunshine Dandelion: Angel King Protea: Darlin'/Tank Columbine: Starlight Chocolate pref was for trope: Milk: Hurt comfort

White: Fluff

Dark: Angst

So, sometime in the near future I will be releasing a Freelancer centered fic with a suprise guest ;).

I'm doing a thing

Idfk how to do normal polls so heres a doc:

THE ANSWERS MATTER ALOT SO CHOOSE WISELY

[versadies]

hehe i am as fast as lighting mcqueen /j

hi! can i request kazuha 7, 15, and morning. thank you very much and hope you have a good day :D

that one cute barista. (kazuha x gn!reader)

AIRLINE... THAT ONE CUTE BARISTA

STEWARD... kaedehara kazuha (w/ gn!reader)

LOCATION... galesong hill (coffee shop au), 15 ST. "is this a date?" / "are you trying to ask me out?"

PLANE... fluff/no-angst, modern!au, barista!kazuha, second-hand embarrassment (?), no tw as far as i know :D

PASSENGERS... @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @kazu-topia @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii @mrkamisato @shenhesl0ver @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @ladycoleigh @034ven @dear-dairiess @owozi8 @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @zuyoo @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque @crowbird @lordbugs @flowersforayato @headintheclouddd @estelwrld @giyusimpsassemble @irethepotatosblog @moonlightaangel @alice0blog @shotosbrainrot @sniffoat @chihawari @mxsomn @kuni-kuzushii @jiminscarmex @mitsukii14 @nejibot @ylimeprive @sachispet @loreleis-world @sn-owo @starforecasts @someonetookmynamelmao @ceylestia @koshiisu @ymikkos @reallysporadicarcade

LANDING... in which a friend of yours has enough of you drooling over that cute barista in the coffee shop you frequently go to and take matters into his own hands.

PILOT... here's my first fic for my 7k milestone event!! hope you enjoy this anon <333

PENPAL SERVICE... MASTERLIST

Every morning, the first place you go to is a certain coffee shop that’s near your place.

The place is to your liking with its jazz music, polite employees who make sure to serve everyone’s order fast, peaceful atmosphere, busy customers going about their day, and of course, the coffee shop’s cutest employee you’ve ever laid your eyes on. 

The moment you entered the coffee shop to order your usual drink, you instantly spotted a cute white-haired man stationed by the cashier instead of the old barista who used to be there, and boy was he sweet and so.. So dreamy!

So who could blame you for falling in love right there and then?

Since then, you start to get ready for the day happily and make sure to not look like you’ve risen up from the dead. Sure, you sometimes spoke the wrong order that’s only available from another restaurant, but the way he’s staring at you with his dreamy smile makes your legs turn to jelly. Sure, you pronounced his name wrong, but he forgave you after you kept apologizing so many times. Sure, you always have the urge to squeal every time his fingers brushes yours or is just doing the bare minimum, but you always contain yourself. Sure, you’re a bit of a coward to make a conversation with him in fear of embarrassing yourself, but only a person can hope that something will happen right?

Your friend isn’t impressed to say the least.

As far as you know, Scaramouche is the only person who knows about your silly little crush thanks to you daydreaming while staring at Kazuha, and decided that he’ll dedicate his entire life on either teasing the crap out of you or comment about it every time he catches you drooling over the barista. 

Usually, it’s the latter.

“You’re seriously not wearing perfume, are you?” Scaramouche comments, his nose scrunching as soon as the fragrance you’re wearing hits him. “Ugh, you are! All for that barista?” 

You immediately feel your cheeks warm up in response, embarrassed by how loud your friend was. “Shut up, you’re embarrassing me! What if he hears you?!”

He scoffs in response. “What is he gonna do about it? Kick me out?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Just go enjoy your weird order.” 

“Weird?! How is quad long shot grande in a venti cup half calf double cupped no sleeve salted caramel mocha latte with 2 pumps of vanilla substitute 2 pumps of white chocolate mocha for mocha and substitute 2 pumps of hazelnut for toffee nut half whole milk and half breve with no whipped cream extra hot extra foam extra caramel drizzle extra salt and add a scoop of vanilla bean powder with light ice well stirred weird?!” 

How does he not forget a long order such as that? You’ll never know. “...I think that alone explains it.”

You couldn’t help but look at where Kazuha is all the while Scaramouche protests about your comment. You hope he’s single, you would feel guilty if it turns out that he’s taken. 

Unnoticed by you, your dreamy sigh made Scaramouche stop talking and raise an eyebrow at you. Are you seriously unashamedly watching a barista looking like you’re about to drool while ignoring him talking about how his order isn’t weird but just long?! 

Disgusting, outrageous! 

The sounds of Scaramouche grumbling and his chair moving made you finally look at your friend in confusion. “Where are you going?” You ask. Unfortunately he didn’t reply, heading towards the cashier counter with his hands buried in his pockets. 

Huh, maybe he’s just going to order some food– 

What. Is. He. Doing. You thought with your eyes slowly widening, watching Scaramouche talking to Kazuha about something, unsure if whether or not you should panic.

It was when Kazuha glances at your way while Scaramouche was talking to him that made you panic. 

What is that buffoon doing?!

You could feel sweat in your palms as you overthink about what your friend is talking about with your crush, especially when the barista started laughing lightly. Surely, he can’t possibly be telling him about your crush as some petty comeback, right?

When Scaramouche comes back, he suddenly sits down with his arms crossed, an unexplainable expression on his face. 

“What did you tell him?” You ask nervously. 

“Just asked if they sell any chocolate since I’m craving one.” He spoke casually.

You furrow your eyebrows slightly, unsure if you should take his word for it or not. 

“Why? Did you think I’d actually drag myself to the counter and tell him about how you’re basically drooling over him?” He brought up with a grin. 

“N-No! Of course not!” 

Oh well, it’s not like Kazuha didn’t look like he’s disgusted or anything, so maybe Scaramouche is telling the truth, giving you a reason to continue your day without thinking of it too much. 

–

Turns out, he wasn’t telling the truth.

The next day after, you went to the coffee shop once more but without Scaramouche this time, the incident was long forgotten. As always, you order your usual and come to an available table that’s not too near to the cashier but near enough to gaze at him without him noticing (or so you hoped). 

It took perhaps a few minutes until someone places something on top of your table, causing you to flinch in surprise and look up at the person–

No way. 

“I hope you’re not allergic to cake or anything.” Kazuha spoke with a smile that made you want to swoon. 

You blink a few times, using your still sleepy brain cells to process what’s going on until you immediately sit up straight. “O-Oh uh… I don’t recall ordering one– u-unless I did of course,  but did I actually order one though–?”

“Consider this one on the house.” Kazuha interrupts with an amused laugh. “You can thank your friend for this. I’m free around 17:00 and will wait for you here.” 

Your mouth opens agape. “Wait, what are you waiting for exactly?” 

He laughs once again, causing the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy from such beautiful sounds. “For you, of course.”

…What?

You look like a fish already, trying to process what he’s trying to say as your heart beats in anticipation. Is he… doing what you think he’s doing?

“...Is this a date?” You ask hesitantly, regretting immediately when you realized that it’s probably not what he’s hinting–

“Do you want it to be?”

You feel your cheeks and ears warming real quick in response. “..Yes…?”

His smile reaches up to his eyes. Who knew such eyes could brighten up because of you? “Great then. I’ll see you later, ( Name ).”

“See… you later…?” You spoke in a trance, watching him walking back to the counter before he continues to serve more drinks to other customers. 

…

Dear Celestia if you’re hearing this, I don’t ever wanna wake up. You thought, looking down at the cake with a now wide smile.

ONE DAY AGO.

Just as Kazuha finishes giving one last customer their order, he hears someone clearing their throat, causing him to turn around and see Scaramouche standing nearby. 

“May I help you, Scaramouche?” The barista asks. “I hope I didn’t get your order wrong–”

“You gotta ask them out before I go insane, Kazuha.” 

Kazuha almost chokes on his own saliva, taken back by surprise from his bold words. “I’m sorry, pardon?” 

“Do you know what it’s like for me to spend my morning with that lunatic drooling over you and you drooling over them while we’re on our way home?” Scaramouche hissed. “If none of you won’t speak up and ask each other out for what – months? I’ll do it myself.”

The barista couldn’t help but glance at your way, his mouth twitches upward at the sight of your nervous face. 

“Alright, just give me a day since you do look like you’re about to lose your hair.” 

“Thank you.” Scaramouche spoke in a relieved tone, but stopped himself from walking away when he remembered something. “By the way, you added too much ice on my drink when I said it should be light.” 

Kazuha sweatdrops. “...I see.”

[looonnamoon]

owo

My first angst fic!

It's an ex! Bakugou x ex! Reader

I really wanted to make it an angst/fluff fic but I was too into how the story was just angst so yeah.

It's whatever tho

WARNINGS: dickhead Bakugou saying mean stuff to you, anxiety attack

Enjoy, sweets!

[Unedited]

Young and stupid

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You broke up two years ago.

Two years ago, he said to you all the things he thought about you. And they weren't the good ones either.

No.

It was those soul crushing, heart wrenching, gut feeling, thoughts. The bad ones.

He went on and on and on. You couldn't remember much, all you remember was the aftermath. He had already left your apartment, you on the floor in tears. You were a strong person, you weren't one to cry. And you especially weren't one to let people into your heart like that. Like how he somehow strangled his way into it, made a nice home.

And decided to destroy it.

You weren't one to let him in.

You weren't one to tell him all your secrets.

You weren't one to tell him, "I love you" so many times.

But now,

You especially weren't one to let people in like that again.

And yet, here he is again. Two years later.

It all started with a garden party, a simple one.

Yao-momo invited all of her freinds to her wedding party. She was getting married to Todoroki.

Congratulations to them.

At this point, it didn't hurt your heart like it used to. Back then, when it was recent, you didn't want to go to any parties because of all the people there. Your anxiety was very high back then. But now, you sat down on your designated seat and looked at them with awe. You remember the two of them having crushes on eachother in highschool and talking to the both of them separately, giving them advice on what to do. You were somewhat proud that you might have had a hand on the entire relationship and where it is now. Your mind began to wander elsewhere and you quickly shut them down when you saw him again. You looked at him, bare.

Bakugou looked nice, he had to look nice tonight.

He still looked his usual self, angry face and all, with some new scars however.

The thoughts became more prominent each second you looked at him, dark and foggy as mumbled words of anger and resentment towards you became more clearer. Added on to that, musty memories raced through your mind, nit picking all of them on how he never enjoyed himself around you. Yet, he looks at you, surprise and admiration in his eyes as you mindlessly looked back at him. If he knew what was happening in your head, what would he do?

The yelling and the thoughts became more clearer than ever and it became so hard to think.

It also became hard to breathe a bit as well.

It also became hard to hold back the tears.

You decided to track away from him and your mind over to the drink table, where you asked the bartender a double on the strongest drink they had.

He had hurt you that much? Well, you weren't exactly in the greatest mindset back then and even though you have improved, what he said to you stayed and didn’t help at all.

"You're so fucking clingy!"

"You're so weak!"

"I don't even know why I'm with you!"

"You're such a fucking loser!"

"I hated how you..."

"Your just a distraction"

"...only a stepping stone"

"You hold me back"

"You"

"You"

YOU

It was your fault the relationship ended.

It was your fault everybody hated you after that.

It was your fault his and your fans berated you for

"Breaking his heart"

It was all your fault.

Only after the bartender held your hand back was when you snapped back into reality.

Empty glasses litter the counter as he gently put his hand on the top of your near empty glass. He looked at you with concern and you looked around.

Everything was fine. Everything was normal. Nobody saw you break down and have a panic attack. That's what you think you had. You didn't know. Nor care as you cleaned up in the bathroom quickly and told yaoyorozu that you didn't feel well and had to leave. The thoughts still ran through your mind as you drove home, not thinking about who cared to see you probably, chugging drink after drink as silent tears ran down your face. You didn't think about how you breifly saw Bakugou looking at you, with guilt and concern that you were going to drink yourself to death in front of him.

He looked at you with such guilt. His thoughts were also racing as well.

Why would he say that?

He remember the things he said to you, sns the feelings he had back then.

He did love you. He was just too young and fucking stubborn to think that he could have other goals in his life as well. He had matured a lot afterwards. He reprimanded all who dared to speak your name in such bad ways just to make him look good.

Why would he do that?

He looked down at his half-empty glass, tears pooling in his eyes.

He remembered all those times with you, he wanted to smile so badly, but the thoughts of keeping up his image was his main focus and ignored you in the process.

He rembered seeing one of your posts on social media and the comments under them. He caused that.

He caused your mental pain. More of it, actually.

Why would he tell you all of those things?

He beated himself day after day after that, even now, he wished he could time travel back to his younger self so he can slap him across the face with such force that he'll develop a brain. That he'll finally realize how much of a fool he was for saying those things to you, the only person who could ever love someone as brash and rude as him. He didn't even know how you did. How you could.

How could you ever love him again?

Afterthat, he became more calmer and respectful more (not that he wasn't respectful back then, what I mean is he became less me! Me! Me! Yk?). He wanted to show you how much he improved during the past two years.

Unlike you, his heart still hurts at these gatherings. Especially this one.

He remembered imagining your guys wedding at night, when you slept peacefully while he stayed up, thinking about how gorgeous you would look and if you saw how big his smile would be when he thought of that at night.

He now looked at yaomomo and todoroki. That could've been him and you up there, smiling and gleeful that you're getting married.

But no. He broke your heart when he said those awful things that day. He willingly lost his chance at a happy life. A life that he wanted. A life that was so perfect.

Why was he so fucking young and stupid?

[sky-squido]

🎯😅✨? owo

oooh storytime!!

🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?

hmmmmm.... i used to care more about Plot Twists and Misdirection than i do now (you guys are NEVER going to guess what happens in Hey Four, Wanna Kill A Dragon With Me? >:3) but i do have one funny anecdote to share.

SPOILERS FOR TO ISOLATE SPOILERS FOR ONE OF THE BIGGEST IF NOT THE BIGGEST REVEALS IN A 170K WORD SKY-CENTRIC FIC OKAY IF YOU THINK YOU MIGHT ONE DAY POSSIBLY EVER READ THIS FIC, PLEASE SKIP DOWN TO THE NEXT QUESTION

interestingly enough, i can't really think of a particular ao3 comment that stood out as an "Oh Frick They're Onto Me." a lot of prediction/theory comments had enough wrong mixed in with the right that it didn't quite feel like they'd Cracked The Code or anything.

there is one exception.

it kind of shows, but the early chapters of To Isolate were actually livewritten on the LU Discord (i'm choosing to interpret the dramatic decrease in quality (that, evidence suggests, i am the only person intensely bothered by) as a *checks notes* meta-textual allegory for the chaotic, unfocused, disorganized, unclear way in which Sky is viewing the world given all the stuff he's dealing with.)

okay, anyway, i looked high and low for that livewrite—chances are it was on a side server i'm not in anymore—but basically this was REALLY EARLY ON, like chapter one or two, maybe, and it was at a bit where sky was just describing the behavior of whoever's cycle it was and someone on the discord was like "does X character think they're going to die or something??" and i was like O_O; kind of freaking out internally because FRICK if it's that easy to guess the big secret only 5k words in, the rest of this fic is about to get real hard to write real fast. fortunately, that person either forgot about or discarded that theory and nobody else ever brought it up again :D eventually we got to the point where emotionally-charged plot developments were happening interspersed with so much of the new information that people's desire to theorize seems to be overwhelmed by their desire to KEEP READING and then the sheer volume of sky's own theorizing and hypothesizing kind of unconsciously forces the reader down the same lines of reasoning as him and we manage to avoid poking massive holes in the story! woo!!! (massive props to poltea for helping orchestrate everything gosh she is so good at this—it's kind of terrifying! (yeah, to people who are scared of me because of to isolate, it's poltea you should really be scared of. she's the one in charge of the villain—i just write the boys))

anyway, yeah! none of my other fics rely on mystery and suspense quite like To Isolate, so i'm not quite so caught off guard when people see stuff coming in those fics than i am when they do in To Isolate.

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

oh jeez, only EVERYTHING i wrote in 2020.

okay, no, that's not the case. i reread What Hyrule Hadn't Seen recently to check something for a friend and i've looked back at some other stuff, too. they really hold up quite well, there's just... moments. gah, some of these little bits make me want to rewrite the entire fic or re-release an Updated Version with the lines and scenes edited out. there's little stuff like Legend saying some token bitter comment about the Goddess just because That's How Legend Gets Written often and i was newer to the fandom and didn't have the experience to say okay FIRST legend doesn't even know who hylia IS and SECOND, this isn't even her FAULT like she's NOT omnipotent and she needed like THREE contingencies to take down demise and was canonically injured in the fight and reincarnated herself so she could use the triforce, which is farore, din, and nayru's so she's literally canonically the weakest named goddess in the pantheon and THIRDLY i don't even think it makes sense for legend to be that bitter about his adventures—or at least if he is, i don't feel comfortable writing him that way without actually addressing why he feels that way and exploring it more. *ahem.*

other than little places where the boys feel blatantly out of character in hindsight, there's just. augh, there's paragraphs with too many adverbs and just rows of consecutive dialogue tags and yes, i know that that means my writing's getting better and that the original writing isn't necessarily bad and don't worry i'm not gonna delete or re-release anything. i just can't read some of it without cringing to death.

like—okay, my first fic, Turn Back Time. i haven't read this fic in its entirety in a VERY long time. i've tried, but i can't make it very far (i understand that this is on some people's list of favorite fics and there's nothing wrong with that! i loved it to death and was SO PROUD OF IT when i first finished it and i don't begrudge anyone for feeling that way about it now). let's just see how far i make it on this reread before i crawl under my desk.

augh, i'm one paragraph in and it's SO CLEAR this was a string of discord messages before it was a fic and i didn't go back and touch up the beginning when i realized i was Actually going to write it. other than little stylistic things that grate on my nerves and didn't used to, i don't really like writing the colors as four separate trains of thought running in four's head. it's The Way Four's Written, often, and as a new member of the fandom, i followed the trend but in hindsight, i just... no shade to people who write four with all the internal dialogue—i've read some of your stuff and absolutely love it—i've just never been able to handle it in a way i'm particularly happy with in my own writing.

like, these scenes aren't bad. they're not as good as my newer stuff, but i don't think they're bad. the stuff that grates on my nerves is the stuff that i know i wrote a certain way, not because i wanted to write it that way, but because i was just unthinkingly following the standard. i'm trying to think of analogy to describe the way i feel about this writing but i honestly can't. it's just—the problem isn't that i think it's bad (though a decently sized part of me does), it's that it's not me. it's that it's not how i would have written that character or that scene if i'd thought about it more. but i wasn't thinking, i was having fun, and that's totally within my rights. i just. i'm kind of embarrassed to have that under my name because it doesn't really feel like it's mine, like it's an accurate representation of what i feel or think. (don't worry, i'm not going to orphan anything).

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

aww, this is a really nice question to put after the last one <3

truth be told, i honestly really like my writing, for the most part. i'll sometimes go and reread my own fics and gasp like "I DID NOT DO THAT!!! OH MY GOODNESS I DID. HOW DARE I????" like,,, i have a really REALLY bad memory and so there are entire bits of my own fics that i've completely forgotten about and then i go back and reread and i'm blindsided by them like it's my first time reading it even though I WROTE IT. it's an experience, to be sure.

so... yeah! i like my writing! i like the way ideas fit together and the way character dynamics unfold and the way things tend to resolve. i like the way most of it still feels right, even months or years later, like yes, yes i wrote that and i'll write it again if i have to because that's exactly right. i dunno, writing is fun and it makes me happy and, evidence suggests, it makes other people happy, too. it's the highest praise i can give to say that something i made is making the world a little brighter, and i like to think my writing is doing that (even despite all the darkness it has to drag the characters through to make that happen)

anyway!!! thank you so much for the questions and have a lovely, restful rest of your weekend!!

[mxxnlitwonders]

c’mon pretty boy — miya atsumu

✎ gender. uhm neutral? but female parts are used ✎ contains. pegging, dom!reader, aka atsumu’s a little bratty :3c but i didnt focus on it that much, degradation and praising (giving), oral (giving and receiving), face-riding, little bit of edging, aftercare!!!, bad grammar (i think i switched between tenses hng) ✎ wc. 5.8k (im so sorry)

✎ summary. you’ve always been more of a switch, and you really want to, well, switch, things up. It’ll just take some convincing when it comes to your dear boyfriend.

✎ ameris’ notes. repost from my other blog! owo lil special thanks for nidae back when they helped me a bit with this fic <3

The shatter of the mug echoed through the kitchen, but your form stayed still, sipping your cup of coffee as you stared at Atsumu’s appalled face across the room. His hands frozen and the back of his head still facing you. 

“What?” He nearly murmured, turning to face you. 

Gently and calmly, you set the cup on the table as you uncrossed your legs. Perhaps you should have waited for Atsumu to sit at the table across from you, but what’s done is done. 

Eyeing the remains of the mug on the floor, you stood back up to meet Atsumu’s brown eyes. 

“I wanna peg and dom you,” you said again, then pointed to the mess on the floor. “Also you’re cleaning that up.” 

Atsumu grimaced, “Hell no.” Carefully, he tiptoed around the shattered pieces to grab a broom and dustpan to clean it up. He was thankful that the mug wasn’t filled with coffee yet. 

“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun!” You grinned at him as you leaned against the kitchen counter, resting your chin on your hand. He crouched down to pick up the pieces but gave you a wary side glance. 

Atsumu knew that your eyes were on him like a hawk. The two of you guys were together long enough that you knew his every tell. And he knew it. Sometimes, you knew him better than you knew yourself. You were there for him for most of his life, from losing to Karasuno at Nationals during second year, to the falling out you two had in third year, to reconnecting a year after graduation, and finally to when he got scouted by the MSBY Black Jackals when he finally asked you out. 

The point is, Atsumu knew that you knew he wasn’t opposed to the idea of you taking control in the bedroom. And he knew you knew that he knew. 

“What size do you want?” You asked the setter, already scrolling through an adult sex toy website on your phone. 

“I never said I wanted to get pegged,” Atsumu replied, standing back up to throw the remains away. He had to walk past you to toss it into the trash and suddenly he became more and more aware of the predatory gaze you had on him. 

Biting your bottom lip, you set your phone down and trailed your eyes over his broad shoulders, to his slim waist (at least compared to the rest of him), and his ass. Atsumu’s thighs were nice too, no doubt, except with the gray sweatpants he had on it was hard to admire. But damn, did you want to ruin him. 

Slowly you walked up to your boyfriend and as he turned to face you, suddenly surprised by your presence, you set your hands on his hips, your eyes settling on his chest before going up to his eyes. Atsumu swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing along. Your lust-filled eyes almost scaring him. 

Your hands squeezed his hips, bringing him closer to you. A smirk made its way onto your face when you felt his hardened length against you. 

“Yeah, but I think you like the idea of it, don’t you?” Leaning up with your breath ghosting over his ear you whispered, “You’d love getting fucked in the ass and you’d love being a good boy, just for me, wouldn’t you, baby?” You made sure to grind into his hips when the last syllable left your mouth. 

A low groan rumbled over Atsumu but you suddenly took a step back, an innocent smile on your face being the total opposite to the mood of what was happening just a few seconds ago. 

For once, Atsumu swallowed his pride, knowing that you wouldn’t do anything without his explicit consent. 

“Surprise me. On the size...” he murmured the last part, looking off to the side. 

“Yay!” You cheered in an extremely jarring change of tone, immediately picking up your phone to continue to scroll through for a strap-on. 

Atsumu huffed, slightly pissed off that you just left him hanging. Whatever, he’ll make you help him out. Leaving you to your own devices, he settled onto the couch and turned on the TV. That is, until you spoke up once more. 

“In the meantime, do you want me to help you with your little problem?” You asked, your voice ever so slightly condescending. His cock strained against his sweatpants and Atsumu couldn’t help but shift around his pants, feeling ever so slightly uncomfortable. Especially with how your eyes rest on the obvious tent. 

But you wanted to play around a bit, test the waters. 

“Yeah baby, why don’t you help me out?” Atsumu smirked, trying to regain control only for him to slightly falter once he saw the frown on your face. 

“Sorry baby,” you walked up to him, caressing his face to make him stare up at you, “only good boys get taken care of.” You ruffled his blonde hair before walking away. There was a little sway in your hips as you walked into your shared bedroom and Atsumu knew that he was so fucked. Literally. 

Of course, he shut off the TV to quickly follow you into the bedroom, stumbling over himself on the way. 

Atsumu’s presence could be described as large, to put it simply. 

He’s a professional volleyball player for one thing, so he was taller than the average person. He’s more than fit too, with his broad shoulders and large thighs. Physically, he took up a lot of room. And even then, Atsumu was loud. His personality took up the entire room whenever he could. 

So to see you staring down at him with a hunger in your eyes that he’s never seen before. Shit, for the first time in his life he’s felt small. And fuck does he like it. Loved it, even. 

Not that he’ll ever admit it. 

Not with the way you stood between his legs and how you tilted his chin to look up at you. God forbid he ever admits to being into this. 

“Bet by the end of this, you’ll be so tired I’ll have to take care of you,” Atsumu smirked up at you but instead, your other hand pulled sharply on his hair, yanking him back. You bent down, your lips ghosting against his. 

“If you keep acting like a brat I’ll make sure you don’t get to cum,” you scold, “only good boys get to cum.” 

With that said, you shoved him back by his shoulders, causing him to fall onto the bed with a light plop. To Atsumu’s distaste, you walked away. But when he saw you grab the strap on and the lube that came with it? He could swear he felt his cock twitch in his sweats. 

You set the items on the bed for easier access as you moved to straddle him. You purposely grinded down onto his already hard member and bent down to give him a soft, short kiss, only to move your lips away. You smirked, staring down at him with half-lidded eyes as he desperately tried to kiss your lips. 

“Does my pretty boy want to kiss me?” 

His hand moved from your hips to the back of your head but you immediately slapped it away, pinning the arm down beside his head as you glared. 

“If you keep acting like a pathetic brat, you won’t cum at all tonight,” you threatened. “Just because of that keep your hands to yourself, okay? ‘Tsumu.” Atsumu’s breath hitched. You knew what kind of effect you had on him. You felt him subtly grind into your core just then, but you’d let it slide. After all, the way he was uncharacteristically quiet because of you made you feel a little bit too powerful. 

Slowly, you trailed your hands down his chest, grazing over his nipples before playing with the hem of his shirt. Tapping Atsumu’s side, silently telling him you wanted to take it off, he shifted himself to make it easier and you quickly pulled off his shirt. 

You took a deep breath, admiring him underneath you. 

“Fuck, you look so pretty like this.” And shit, Atsumu really did have a praise kink because all he wanted was for you to keep on complimenting him, praising him, to call him your pretty boy. 

“Are you just going to stare at me?” Atsumu smirked, his voice slightly wavering. He hoped you didn’t notice, you did.

“I could,” you replied, your hands slightly hovering over his chest, barely touching him, “I could touch myself, make myself cum as I stare at your pretty body. But that would mean you don’t get to cum. I don’t think you’d want that, would you?” Your hand slid down his abdomen, your finger tracing over the ‘v’ shape lines. You knew he wanted you to touch him, especially with the way he was pressing up into your core. 

Wanting a little bit of relief yourself, you grinded down into him, a slight moan leaving both your and his mouth. 

“Shit, st-stop fucking teasing!” Atsumu growled, tossing his head back slightly. 

You clicked your tongue, “I give the orders here, baby. Not you.”

Climbing off of him, you gestured for him to move further back onto the bed to get into a more comfortable position. Atsumu sat there, watching you as you slowly took off your top and pants, leaving you bare with just a matching lace bra and panties. His favorite ones; the ones that he loved to tear off of you. And you knew it. 

You moved onto the bed, the mattress dipping with your weight as you went to sit between his legs. Atsumu felt incredibly vulnerable with your gaze on the obvious tent in his sweatpants, but he felt safe, comfortable.

Your finger traced over the tent lightly, Atsumu rutting his hips up to get more of your touch but you quickly pulled your hand away. Instead, your hand dipped below his waistband, dragging down both his briefs and pants and tossed the clothes to the side, freeing his hard member as it slapped against his stomach. Trails of precum left on his stomach and Atsumu stared down at you, waiting for your touch. 

“You look so pretty like this,” you sighed out, your hand finally wrapping around his hard cock, your thumb swiping over his red tip to spread the precum. Leaning up, you pressed your lips against his and he immediately reciprocated, pressing back even harder against you. You bit his bottom lip, causing him to groan as you continued stroking his cock, his hips ever so slightly thrusting into your fist. You slipped your tongue into his mouth before you pulled away, a string of saliva connected your mouth and Atsumu’s. 

Your grip tightened as you stroked a little faster and a groan left his mouth, tossing his head back. 

“Fuck, feels good,” he moaned out. 

“Yeah, pretty boy?” You asked. Before Atsumu could reply, you ducked your head down, placing a languid kiss against his red tip. Then a small kitten lick against the beads of precum that gathered at the tip. Atsumu let out a choked moan, wanting more from you but he bit his lip, he wasn’t about to let you hear him beg, he knew he’d lose if he begged. But you weren’t about to lose either. 

Slowly, you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock and moved your head down his shaft until you felt Atsumu hit the back of your throat. It was difficult taking all of him in your mouth, since Atsumu was on the larger side but it was easier now after a bit of practice. 

Breathing through your nose, you hollow your cheeks and begin bobbing your head up and down his cock. Atsumu tried holding back his moans but when you slightly slapped his hip, he finally let out every pretty noise that was only for your ears. Your hands began stroking the parts of him that you couldn’t reach as your jaw began hurting. But you were determined to make Atsumu cum and with the way his thighs tensed and his moans getting louder as he pleaded for you to let him cum, you knew he was well on his way. 

You take your mouth off of him, to his disappointment, but when your hand takes over, stroking him how he likes it all thought leaves his head. 

“Your moans sound so pretty, baby,” you murmured against his lips before kissing him and swallowing his moans. You couldn’t help the smirk that made its way onto your lips as he began thrusting up into your fist and with how he couldn’t focus on kissing you. Instead, he pulled away letting out a loud groan as he felt his peak approach. 

Until you stopped your strokes and Atsumu let out the saddest of whines which made you want to spoil him. But you wouldn’t. 

“Fuck, I was so close,” Atsumu panted. 

“Gotta beg for it, baby, I don’t know how much you want to cum,” you replied. Atsumu scowled at you but you could only smile back at him, knowing exactly what you were doing. Especially with how you decided to wrap your hands around his hard cock again, slowly stroking up and down his shaft. 

Atsumu let out more moans and he knew that you already won. He knew that you wouldn’t let him cum, would make him edge for the rest of the night and as much as he liked the idea of that, maybe it’d be better off if it was for another night.

Another night, meaning he was definitely going to let you do whatever you pleased to him again after this. 

“Fuck,” he gasped out your name, feeling you speed up your strokes, your thumb swiping over his tip. He thrusted his hips up into your fist, felt his thighs tensing and his peak was coming close again. Faster this time as you had just edged him. Just as you were about to edge him once he finally let out the words you’ve been wanting to hear.”

“Let me cum, please, I—fuuuck—“ he choked on his words, letting out a loud, desperate groan. “‘S’close, I want to—want to cum.” 

Knowing that was the best you were going to get out of him, for now, you continued stroking his hard member, your grip tightening just a little bit. You were sure to focus on giving his tip the attention it needed as well. And then his eyes rolled back into his head, a loud moan escaping his mouth that vaguely sounded like your name and spurts of white cum painted your hand and his stomach. 

You stroked him through his orgasm, feeling his member slowly softening. When Atsumu put his hand on your wrist, trying to pull you away from him to prevent overstimulation, you smiled up at him. 

“Good boy, you look so good cumming like that, ‘Tsumu. So pretty, all for me,” you leaned up to give him a chaste kiss. You pulled away, staring at him with half lidded eyes before kissing him again. 

Atsumu lived for your kisses, with the way you were nibbling on his bottom lip to the way your tongue swiped into his mouth, how you slightly suckled on his tongue. If it was possible, he could live off of your kisses but he was only human, still in need of air and still trying to catch his breath from his orgasm. So he pulled away.

His brown eyes stared into yours, as you stared at him with innocent eyes. You brought your hand up to your lips, your tongue darting out to lick the cum that fell on your hand and you smiled. 

“Always taste so good, baby,” you moved your hand towards him, telling him to lick what was left and he hesitantly did what he was told. Atsumu’s cock was already hardening once more from how dirty this was. 

“So, are ya gonna fuck me already or what?” He asked, eyeing the strap-on that sat on the bed. 

You clicked your tongue, “Gotta be patient baby. Besides,” you pushed him down gently onto the bed, stripping off your panties and bra before climbing to straddle his waist, “you’re gonna make me cum with your tongue, okay pretty boy?”  Immediately, his hands went to caress your breasts but you slapped them away, pinning them beside his head. 

“No touching until I say so,” you chastised Atsumu, “now make me cum or I’ll leave you exactly like this.” You reach back to lightly stroke his cock before pulling away, a frustrated groan leaving his mouth. 

Before Atsumu could give you any type of remark, you had already climbed towards the top of the bed, settling your legs beside his head. 

Atsumu stared up at your glistening folds, his hands already automatically trying to grab your hips to bring you down to his mouth. Repeating your actions from before, you were quick to swipe his hands away. 

“Remember what I said, pretty boy,” you scolded. With that, he slowly set his hands back onto the bed, gripping the sheets and you lowered yourself onto his face. One of your hands buried in his hair and the other on the headboard. 

Hesitantly, Atsumu licked his tongue through your folds from your entrance to clit, a pleased moan leaving his mouth as he tasted you and he was sure not to miss your gasp. You pull on his hair a little harder, slowly grinding your hips down on his mouth, following his tongue against your core. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re doing so-fuck!” you desperately cried out as he brought your clit into his mouth, suckling on it then going back to licking through your folds. Your grip on his hair tightens as you begin bucking your hips against him, breathy moans filling the room. 

His tongue trails down from your clit to your entrance, thrusting in you as one of his hands moved to then replace his tongue. You’d be sure to punish Atsumu another time because fuck was he putting his mouth to good use for once. He slipped in two of his long, thick fingers into your wet hole that’s a mix of your slick and his own saliva. He moves his mouth back to your clit, wrapping his lips around the bud and suckling against it as his strong setter fingers stroked inside you, hitting that sweet spot inside of you so easily and so well. 

“Fuck, yes, I’m almost-” you felt the pressure in your core building up and your thighs tensing up. A desperate whine left your lips as you finally hit your climax. Atsumu stroked you through your orgasm, letting you ride his face until your grip on his hair loosened up and you slowly got off of him. 

A sense of pride and admiration flowed through you as soon as you saw your slick coat the sides of his mouth and chin. Sitting slightly up, Atsumu grinned at you as he placed his fingers into his mouth, sucking and cleaning his fingers of your juices before pulling them out with a ‘pop’. 

Grasping him by the back of his head, you pulled him towards you, placing a passionate kiss against his mouth. Your tongue stroking his lips before he parted to let you taste yourself against him. Atsumu moaned against you when one of your hands moved to twist one of his nipples between your fingers. 

You pulled away, a smirk very apparent on your face as he flushed red, “So you like that more than you let on, huh.” You recalled the few times you’ve given his nipples attention in the past, him often pulling your hand away but he’d always bring you into a kiss right away instead. Probably to hide his pink-tinted cheeks. 

Atsumu pursed his lips before you moved to kiss his jawline, then began leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his neck, suckling here and there to leave marks. You made your way down his chest, making sure to lightly play with his nipples with your fingers until your lips found its way onto his chest. You pull the perked bud in between your lips, sucking and lightly nibbling. You stared up at Atsumu, who let out light, breathy moans with his eyes shut. 

You pulled away, reaching over to grab the bottle of lube, the cap opening up with a click. Atsumu opened his eyes at the sound, then watched you closely. You patted his knees and Atsumu layed back on the bed, spreading his legs open. 

“You alright?” You asked, watching as he seemed a bit uneasy. 

Atsumu would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. On one hand, he wanted to prove that he could take your cock. On the other, he’s the one usually doing the fucking. But fuck he really, really, liked feeling like putty because of you. 

He felt your hands caress his legs up to his waist, “Relax baby-” you kissed him at the crown of his head “-we can always stop if you’re uncomfortable.” But Atsumu shook his head with a huff. 

“Can’t lose to you,” he argued. You lightly chuckled, knowing that was just a way for him to convince himself that you fucking him? Wasn’t going to make him less than. And if his conversations with Bokuto and Hinata in the locker room were any indication, he was clearly the one winning. 

“Alright,” you grab one of the pillows on the bed, telling him to lift his hips as you slide it snuggly underneath him. You moved to sit between his legs, tapping on them. 

“Hold yourself open, pretty boy,” you ordered softly. Atsumu placed his hands under his knees, spreading his legs open for you and watched as you stared down at his puckered hole. You traced your finger around it, Atsumu slightly jolte and you chuckled softly to place a kiss on his thigh, murmuring reassuring words to the man. 

With the bottle of lube, you poured a generous amount on your fingers before moving to slowly insert a finger into his hole. You kissed his thigh again, asking Atsumu if he was alright. 

“Y-yeah,” he breathed out. He was about to ask you to move but instead bit his tongue. The feeling of your finger in him was... Foreign, to say the least. But it wasn’t unwelcome. With the way you fingered him gently was different to how you’ve been treating him every now and then this past session. 

“Ah-!” Atsumu gasped out in pleasure when you placed another finger into him, even pouring a bit of lube to help ease the stretch. You kissed him again, distracting him from any discomfort as you stretched him for what was to come. Your fingers stroked his insides, scissoring every so often to try to open him up wider. 

You pulled away, glancing at his face to make sure he was alright before he told you to keep going. You smirked, kissing the tip of his nose before you went to kiss his chest once more, leaving dark red marks. He’d have to change quickly if he wanted to avoid any teasing from his teammates in the locker room. 

Sliding one more finger into him, Atsumu moaned. You separated your mouth from his chest, smiling at the marks before staring up at him, your fingers sliding in and out much more easily as you spread him open. 

“You like that baby?” You asked, leaning back to stare at him in all his glory. His cock was painfully hard, dripping with precum with an achingly red tip. With your free hand, you lightly stroked him before placing a languid kiss on his tip before sitting back up and pulling your hand away. “Okay, pretty boy, do you think you’re ready?” 

Atsumu nodded his head, not trusting his voice. You kissed his thigh again before taking your fingers out, watching as his hole fluttered around nothing. Atsumu was about to let his legs down again but you held them both back.

“Be a good boy for me and keep yourself open, baby,” you told him then climbed off the bed to put on the strap on a little easier. Atsumu watched as you placed your legs through the harness, watching as the dildo hung from your hips as you snuggly put it on. Admittedly, you looked really good, to put it simply. And, he was glad you picked one that wasn’t too girthy but still somewhat long. It wasn’t too intimidating as you slid back onto the bed, grabbing the lube bottle once more to coat the dildo before tossing the bottle to the side. 

You settled between his legs once more, your hands caressing his thighs before settling onto his hips. 

“Just let me know if you’re uncomfortable, okay?” you said softly, as you stared down into his brown eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, just fuck me already,” Atsumu replied. You rolled your eyes, slapping his bare cheek. He was definitely ready but trying to hide his nerves. “Unless you’re too tired.” 

You glare at him, already grabbing the dildo to place at his entrance and pressed your hips forward. Atsumu hissed which quickly turned into a moan as you slowly filled him up. You made sure to go slow, stopping every so often to rub soothing motions on his thigh and making sure he was alright. Each time he’d give you the go ahead you made sure to whisper him praises, telling him how much of a good boy he was being. 

When your hips pressed into him, signaling that you were all the way in, you stilled. 

“You’re so good for me baby, taking me all so well,” you murmured, leaning down to give him a kiss on the corner of his lips. His eyes were shut as he controlled his breathing. Atsumu was admittedly more nervous than he thought but he was enjoying this a lot more than he thought. 

Opening his eyes to stare up into you, he shakily said, “You can move.” 

Your eyes flickered over his face, trying to see if there was any discomfort or any part of him that was even lying to try to show that he could take you. Once you couldn’t find anything of the sort, you slowly pulled out, leaving just the tip in before gently pushing back in. 

As you began to find a sort of rhythm, gradually going from gentle thrusts to rough thrusts, Atsumu lightly panted, purposely preventing himself from trying to let out any moans for your satisfaction. 

With a newfound passion, you angled your hips to deliberately hit his prostate and finally you heard him let out a choked moan. 

“Fu-fuck! Ah-baby please, I—fuuckk,” Atsumu dragged out the last words, tears gathering in his eyes as he held up his legs by the back of his knees a little more. Your hand gripped his hips harder, your nails surely leaving marks. Another hand sprawled on his chest, lightly scratching over his toned body and over his nipples. 

With every sharp thrust into his desperate hole, hitting the spot that is making him see stars, his hard member slapped against his abdomen, leaving streaks of precum along with his previous orgasm. The tip of his cock was so red and pretty that you couldn’t help but move your hand down to lightly stroke it. Incoherent moans continued leaving his mouth as your thumb rubbed over his tip, spreading his precum more. 

“Yeah? You look so fucking pretty like this,” you breathed out, groaning when a particular thrust just sucked you back in. “What a pretty boy, taking my cock so well. Who knew you could be a good boy.” 

“Ahh- fuck!” his words bleeding into a moan as you gripped his cock a little tighter, stroking him a little faster. The sharp pain in his hips grew numb as you continued holding him up, thrusting harder. A satisfied laugh escaped your mouth as you felt him grind his hips up into you.

“You like this? Huh?” You asked, a condescending tone lacing around your tongue. “You like it when I fuck your tight hole so much that you’re holding your legs open. What a slut. My. Little. Slut.” Atsumu could feel his peak coming, the heat in his core building up and his thighs were shaking for the second time that night. 

Atsumu bit the bottom of his lip, trying to hold back any moans. He didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of how he felt from hearing you talk to him like that. No, not at all. Nev—

A sharp pain against his ass cheek caused him to gasp out but you were quick to rub over the mark, soothing him. 

“Don’t be a brat, come on pretty boy, let me hear your moans,” you rolled your hips into his and Atsumu knew he was close. So, so, so, close. “Or I won’t let you cum.” Your thrusts began to slow down and instead of pumping his cock like you were earlier, you gripped the base of his shaft. 

“Fuuuuck, I’ll be good,” Atsumu caved in, begging so desperately, “I’ll be a good boy for you please, I need to cum.” He let go of his legs, immediately wrapping them around you instead to rut his hips into you. His hands sprawled beside his head as he turned to look to the side, too embarrassed at giving you full control. 

“Good boy,” you murmured and began thrusting harder, faster into him. You intertwined your hand with his when you bent down, kissing the marks you’ve left on his chest. A smirk appeared on your face as you heard him moan. “My little prince.” 

Atsumu’s other hand found its way onto your shoulder at the same time as your hand moving down to stroke his aching cock. 

The two of you hissed at the same time; Atsumu for the added sensations and you as he dug his nails onto your back. There were definitely going to be marks left on your back but you didn’t mind. Not with the way Atsumu’s pretty face was scrunching up in pleasure, the desperate moans that left his mouth as he continued to try to meet each of your thrusts. 

And—oh fuck—with his tongue hanging out from his mouth like he’d always do while playing on the court, shit. You felt like you could cum right there and then with the way his eyes rolled back into his head. 

“Shit, ‘m gonna-” Atsumu let out a whine, unable to finish his sentence as he came all over you and his stomach. His legs tightened his hold around you and you slowed your thrusts with your hand stroking his cock, letting him ride out high. 

When Atsumu’s legs loosened around you, you fully pulled out, watching as his chest heaved with every breath he took. You rubbed circles on his hips, especially over the marks left by your nails. The stinging on your back was still there, but you’d be sure to check them out tomorrow morning. 

“Good boy,” you murmured, licking off the cum off your hand before leaning down to softly say against his lips, “Such a good fucking boy, just for me.” 

You finally kissed him, tilting your head for a deeper kiss, running your hands up his sides as you continued giving him small praises against his lips before kissing him again. Finally pulling away, you admired your handiwork. The many marks left on his skin would surely make him the slightest bit mad, albeit jokingly (somewhat), tomorrow but damn did they look good on him. 

“How was it?” You asked, smiling as you comfortably shifted back into your casual personality. 

Atsumu let out a heavy sigh, tossing his head back against the bed, “ ‘Sgood.” 

“Just good?” Atsumu brought his head up, glaring at you which made you laugh. This was as good as it was going to get but with that gleam in his eyes, you knew this wouldn’t be the last. 

You lightly slap his thighs before moving off the bed and promptly taking off the harness, “Alright big boy, let's get you cleaned up. You weren’t uncomfortable at all?” Worry flickered through your eyes as you watched Atsumu push himself onto his arms. You sat beside him on the edge of the bed, interlocking your hands with him as you searched his face. 

“No, I’m just surprised you had enough energy to fuck like that, thought you were more of a, well, pillow baby.” 

You shrugged, “I just wanted to switch things up.” A grin made its way onto your face as Atsumu groaned, falling back onto the bed and letting go of your hand. You laughed as he threw insults at you for that terrible pun, getting up to grab a few wet and warm towels to wipe him down. You also set the water for the bath as well before heading back to help clean him up. 

As the two of you prepared for the night an hour later, with Atsumu resting his head on your chest as you ran your hands gently through his surprisingly soft, blond hair, you asked him if he’d want to do it again. 

Silence filled the room until Atsumu lifted his head to look up at you. 

“If ya wanted to fuck me that badly you could just ask y’know,” he replied smugly. You placed your hand on his face, shoving him away but his grip around your torso tightened, trying to keep you close to him. 

“Agh, okay okay, fine stop pushin’ me,” Atsumu protested trying to lick your hand to get you to stop. You pulled your hand away (not because of his childish antics), wiping your hand on his shirt with a sigh. 

He rests his head against your chest once more, “But, fine. I... wouldn’t mind it.” He whispered the last part into your chest. 

You hummed lightly, the corner of your lips turning up, returning your hand to thread it through his locks. Now you had something to look forward to and damn were you glad that you saw that one notification on his phone. The one with his shared chat with Hinata, Bokuto, and Sakusa. And specifically the notification about Bokuto directly addressing Atsumu about how “he’s always wanted to try pegging, too.”

You’d have to thank Bokuto later. 

***

“Babe, are you kidding me?” Atsumu shouted from the bedroom. You raised your brow, sipping your coffee before setting it down on the dinner table to walk into the shared room. 

Upon walking into the room, Atsumu was staring at himself through the mirror, his shirt through his arms but the rest of the torso bare and you could tell he was getting ready for his morning run. But what surprised you when walking in was the actual amount of hickies and marks you left over his chest with a few coupled on his neck. 

He turned his head quickly towards you, his blond hair swaying a bit. 

You sheepishly grinned with a shrug, “Oops?” 

[ackerfics]

Rory, what're your thoughts on these 2 levi careers/aus/concepts: #1 Househusband Levi <3 AND #2 Dr. Levi Ackerman (idk you can pick a specific medical speciality, maybe pediatrician, surgeon, Ob/Gyn, Cardiologist etc etc)

omg those are very amazing concepts !! i'm in love owo <33

1. househusband levi ??? i am always in love with that one since i started reading fics for aot jdiwdjd every time i imagine him as one tho, i always imagine him in the place of that househusband anime, which is so fitting for him istg. thinking about how he carefully makes your lunch boxes, putting some intricately-cut vegetables and small fruits, and thinking that if he wants you to have an appetite while eating lunch, might as well go all-out on the appearances. you're there sitting in your workplace having a life crisis bc the lunches levi makes are so pretty that it hurts to eat. heck, there are hotdog octopuses and bunny apples, too. meals aside, the chores??? oh my God, your house will probably be the cleanest in the neighborhood. maybe this is just me projecting bc if ever i want a husband, they should be a househusband swksjwkwj just joking :>

2. doctor levi ..... i am weak AAAAAA there's something about doctors that's so attractive to me idk why [screams]. i like seeing him as a surgeon for some reason, that's the first time coming into mind when i think of him as a doctor. his cleanliness will be a blessing in the field, he's always disinfecting any second of the day. ooooh, just for some lighthearted wishful thinking ... levi as a pediatrician. that would be so cute to see !! as much as he hates the thought of kids disrupting his work, he's actually surprised that the kids that enter his clinic are well-behaved. he probably doesn't realize that his face is scaring them but once he starts talking, the kids will be calming down. his voice is so soft while talking to them, giving them treats and letting them be occupied while he's doing the check-up or shots. i'm soft aghhh.

[cinnaminsvga]

A Boy Like You | Yoongi

→ summary: for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you.

{or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}

→ genre: coworker!au, f2l, fluff → warnings: an overabundance of shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to squish his cheeks; kinda ooc but it is what it is → words: 11.5K → a/n: whaddup kids it’s ya girl... back from the dead after months of not writing shit, and what’s this owo... it’s a fluff fic?? miracles do happen... anyway i wrote this bc i just thot “man, wouldn’t it be super epic if i wrote a super self-indulgent fic where yoongi fulfills every single one of my deepest desires?” well... here is THIS!! pls feel free to scream into a pillow bc i certainly did!! enjoy!!

There is a boy you know who likes to show his kindness quietly. It would go something like this:

The air is thick with static; your hair stands up on end: a warning. The scent of raindrops hitting hot pavement graces your nostrils as a waterfall drops from the sky. You see the sea of heads begin to disappear under a canopy of multi-colored umbrellas. You, the lone ranger, rush back into the building from whence you came, dragging puddles and annoyance with you.

You should have anticipated it, should have thought to check the weather app before scrolling through dull social media posts when you left your house that morning. Instead, your fingers are left cold and umbrella-less.

You tilt your head upwards, watching as gallon upon gallon fell from the sky in an endless cycle. The watch on your wrist reads 5 PM, but the sky says it is 9 PM. The dark, swirling mass of clouds above you will continue on its thunderous parade, pausing for no one, especially not for you.

Your work bag is practically weightless, devoid of anything that might protect you from the onslaught of rain. The only thing inside is a small wallet that holds nothing more than dust and a loose promise of a paycheck. There is no way you can call a taxi like this, and the nearest bus stop is at least two blocks away. You are starting to think that your childhood dreams of becoming a mermaid hadn’t been so ridiculous after all.

Then comes the hand of God. It touches your shoulder gently, hesitantly. You turn around to face a stranger, a boy with shaggy black hair and pale moonlight skin. It is not God, but he comes close.

In his other hand is your salvation wrapped in Kumamon print nylon. It is proffered to you with a silent nod, his gaze fixed somewhere behind you as he waits for you to take it. The tips of his ears begin to redden the longer it takes for you to respond. Eventually, your brain connects with your muscles as you robotically pluck the umbrella from his grasp, a stuttered “thanks” leaving your lips.

He nods stiffly once more, removing his palm from your shoulder as though he had been burned. He shuffles for a moment, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to find the words to say. You wait, patience never waning for the strange boy that you have come to know as your salvation.

He doesn’t find the words after all. You aren’t too offended by his silence, but he appears to be mortified. And so, he leaves just as quickly as he had appeared, like a whirlwind dressed in an oversized blazer flapping behind him like wings. He runs through the rain without another thought, an arm raised above his head in a futile attempt to avoid getting wet.

You try calling out to him, wanting to thank him once more and maybe to ask how you can return his umbrella, but he is long gone. A speck of black dashing through the gray.

You clutch the umbrella closer to you, a feeling of something new growing inside of you. It is too small to call anything, but it is warm.

x x x x x

Umbrella boy has a name, and he happens to work on the same floor as you. You know this because he is standing right in front of you in all his bespectacled glory.

He ducks out of view the moment your eyes meet his. There is a stack of folders in his arms, and he bows his head until his nose touches manila. It’s too late––he knows you caught him staring. He scurries behind walls of filing cabinets and desk cubicles, desperate to get back to his desk where he hopes you’ll never find him.

The office floor is large, but it is not large enough to hide in. It takes only a few minutes until you find him hunched over his desk, every inch of space taken by enough towers of paper to cover a forest. It is no wonder that you never encountered your mysterious umbrella boy; he does a wonderful job of blending in.

Your eyes trail his form, not out of any perverse intent, but just out of curiosity. You never would have guessed from his unassuming and meek nature, but the boy is devastatingly beautiful. The devil is in the details: you admire the soft slope of his nose to the adorable pout of his lips. His eyelids are charmingly mismatched and his cheeks are begging to be pinched. It takes a year’s worth of self-restraint to keep your hands at your sides, if only so you don’t scare him away before you can even introduce yourself.

(You can already imagine your HR department contacting you about nonconsensual manhandling… You admit that you tend to get overzealous with your affection, especially when confronted with cute things. This boy would definitely need to watch out for you if he knows what’s best for him.)

((Also note to self: Stop having these psychopathic conversations with yourself. Being stuck inside the cage which is your brain is torture enough, so let’s not encourage it to get worse.))

There is a lanyard laced around his neck, the gaudy orange color of your company’s logo emblazoned across the thin material. And just out of your line of sight, you catch a glimpse of his ID. His name is––

“Y-Y/N?” He stutters out–no–he squeaks. Ah, so he’s noticed you. The folder in his hand slips out of his grasp, an avalanche of white tumbling all over his lap. He curses loudly, frantically sweeping away the mess under his desk, as if he could somehow magically make them disappear if he just kicked them hard enough. Unfortunately, the papers stay stubbornly tangible, and he is left with a halo of accounting reports around his workspace as a result.

“Are you… umm…” You hesitate with your words, fearing that any sudden movement on your part might cause umbrella boy to combust on the spot. “Do you need help… picking those up?”

“I–Well, no–Yes, but–” His sentences are stilted, his brain struggling to catch up with his tongue. He clamps his mouth shut, then shakes his head like he’s trying to reboot himself. Finally, after a few more deep breaths, he goes, “No. I’m fine. Thank you for offering.” He says that, but he appears awfully content with staring holes into the keyboard of his laptop when he is speaking to you though.

“Still… I’m terribly sorry for startling you,” you say, lips tugging downwards into a frown. You should have guessed he was skittish from how he had acted yesterday, but it’s quite a surprise to see one man so… disastrous, for lack of a better term. It’s awfully cute. “I just wanted to properly introduce myself and thank you for lending me your umbrella yesterday, but it seems like you already knew who I was.”

His face does a weird thing then and there. It almost appears like he was caught in a time loop, like someone was manually reversing and replaying his facial expressions like a video. It takes a few minutes for his little stroke to settle down, but even then, his cheeks remain a rosy pink. “I–I just… remembered your name during the company retreat the other month. I’m not weird or anything, I swear!”

“Well luckily, I was never going to accuse you of being weird anyway!” You laugh, trying to ease the perpetual look of anxiety on his face. However, it only seems to worsen his nerves with how quickly his skin starts to redden. “In fact, I should be apologizing for not remembering your name, Mister..?”

“Min Yoongi,” he replies, pausing for a second too long. He must have realized his delay because he coughs awkwardly into his forearm, averting his gaze away from you in a futile attempt to become nothing more than an abstract thought.

He must be equipped with some sort of superpower, because you’re starting to feel his secondhand embarrassment flood through you like a tsunami. Are you that difficult to converse with? Does he want to be left alone so badly that he’s trying to subtlely tell you to fuck off?

You’re about to start apologizing and scurry off back to your desk in barely concealed mortification when Yoongi clears his throat, his gaze fixed somewhere to your right. Whatever caught his attention must have been revolutionary with how large his eyes are, although last you remember is that the wall behind you is the same dull jailcell gray that you have come to know and hate.

“I just… I’m sorry if I’m acting odd right now. I just wasn’t expecting you to come to my cubicle and I would’ve… I don’t know, tidied up? If I knew you were coming,” he mutters, propping his glasses back up when they start sliding down his nose. They make their slow descent back down immediately after, forever on an endless cycle of up and down his face.

“You don’t have to clean up just for me! I’m not your manager or anything,” you say, surveying the absolute disaster zone that is his workspace. For his benefit, you sure hope that he has a map of his desk and filing cabinets, as it would have been a miracle otherwise if he memorized where anything was located in his personal office sty. “Though, it would be nice if you could see the bottom of your desk every once in a while.”

To your immense surprise, Yoongi lets out a resounding laugh at your quip. Though Yoongi isn’t a mute by any means, it isn’t like he spoke with much volume either. You hadn’t even thought your joke was funny enough to deserve a strained Caucasian™️ smile, so you appreciate that he had considered that you were even slightly funny. You love the pleasant tinkling of his laughter, so genuinely joyous that you can’t help but want to make a fool of yourself just so you can hear it again and again.

When Yoongi stops, the familiar reddish hue that has made a home on his cheeks resurfaces, though it’s less from embarrassment now. His shoulders are more relaxed, and he doesn’t look like he wants to crawl out of his skin as much. He still has eyes averted away from you, however. “Sorry. I don’t know why I laughed too hard at that. I’m normally not this weird… I think it’s just the nerves.”

You cock your head to the side. “Nerves? From what?”

Yoongi freezes, mouth gaping open slightly. “I, umm…” He coughs into his white button-up sleeve, pupils shaking as he formulates a response. “Just from… work. Yeah, I just have a lot of paperwork to do this week and I’ve been, er, having difficulty relaxing.”

Yoongi visibly breathes a sigh of relief when you accept his flimsy excuse, not really lingering on the validity of his statement. “Oh, sure! Don’t overwork yourself too much, okay?” you say, smiling sweetly back at him. He stares, wide-eyed, not really sure how to go on with his life after he’d been blasted by the full force of your grin.

God, you hope you remembered to use a toothpick during lunch. Was there spinach in your teeth? Oh fuck.

“Gah,” he intones, his brain not fully cooperating with his mouth just yet. If you were any more socially inept, you’d probably be doing the same. Eventually, he clears his throat and tries again. “Uh. Yes. I’ll try to do better next time.”

Feeling like you’ve overstayed your visit, you decide that it might be best for you to leave him be before either of you do or say anything more awkward and stupid. Before you turn to leave however, you decide to extend your hand forward, hoping to erase all the previous awkwardness between the both of you and hopefully start afresh. Even though you’ve only just met, you can’t help but feel drawn to him, wanting to see him again and somehow gain his friendship. “Hey, no sweat. It was really nice meeting you, Yoongi-ssi.”

“Just Yoongi is fine,” he says, almost like an afterthought. He’s so busy staring at your proffered hand that you are afraid that you might have offended him unknowingly or something. Does he think you don’t wash your hands? Given by the fact that your office’s manager refuses to restock the soap dispensers at the washrooms, that isn’t that much of a stretch. Or maybe he was weirded out by your random handshake? Have handshakes become antiquated these days? Are the kids no longer doing it? Are you supposed to do those awful brohugs like the fresh-out-of-college interns do in the breakroom? Oh God, does Yoongi think you’re old?!

While you were in the midst of your mental breakdown, you soon begin to realize why Yoongi had contemplated returning your handshake for so long. Instead of taking your hand immediately, Yoongi rubs his own two palms together first, much like how one would when warming their hands in front of a fire. He takes care to blow on them slightly before grasping your hand firmly in his, finally bestowing you with your much awaited handshake.

“Umm..?” You stare at your intertwined hands, a little confused about the previous series of events that just happened five seconds ago. Yoongi, in all his adorable and flustered glory, releases your hand much too quickly like he’s been shocked, most likely realizing (belatedly) that what he had done might not be as clear to an observer as it is to himself.

“Oh, I – I’m so sorry about that, again.” Yoongi stutters, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s just – my hands are really cold so I was trying to warm them up before I held your hands. I’m – I only just realized how odd that must have looked. Sorry.”

A rush of endearment and warmth surges through you as you behold this high strung boy, your heart flooded with a mix of emotions that make you feel gooey and blissful in one perfect package. No, this boy is the perfect package, all soft edges and blushy cheeks. It’s going to take a mountain and a room of vengeful deities to stop you from walking past his desk to catch a glimpse of him at this rate.

Oh God, you’re whipped already and it’s only been a few minutes since you said hello. He warmed his hand for you for heaven’s sake! Surely your enthusiasm can be excused in this one instance.

“That’s, uhh…” Now it seems that it is your turn to be at a loss of words, your throat clogged with a clump of newly discovered feelings that you don’t have enough time to sort through at the moment. The hamster running circles inside your brain has long since ground to a halt, and if Yoongi is going to keep staring at you with those charming cat eyes for any longer, you aren’t sure you’ll be able to convince the little vermin inside your skull to puppet your body again. “That’s… really sweet. Thank you.”

Thank you? Really, Y/N?

“It’s, uh, no problem. Really.” And with that, Yoongi presents to you his most deadly smile to date: blinding whites coupled his prominent pink gums, with his cheeks stretched like proofed dough that make his dark eyes disappear. Is there a pencil wedged inside your chest cavity, or were you just spontaneously having a heart attack? It’s hard to say; all you know is that your organs have turned to slush, and you make a mental note to send the imminent hospital bill to a certain Min Yoongi.

Cause of hemorrhage: being too fucking cute.

With your daily dose of embarrassment fulfilled, you turn to leave with short stilted steps, as if you have to force yourself away from him like those stubborn souvenir shop magnets that never come off the fridge. “I guess I’ll see you around?” you say more like a question, unsure if he’ll even want to ever see you after that disaster of an interaction. Kim Namjoon from Accounting would be entirely too delighted if he ever found out that he wasn’t the most awkward human being in the office.

“Sure? I’ll just be here. As always,” Yoongi replies kindly, same gummy grin on his face, albeit a little more hesitant. “It was nice speaking to you, Y/N.”

When he returns his attention to his workspace, it serves as a signal to you that you really should be going. Before you leave, you take note of the subtle red tint of his ears that reaches the back of his neck, the gentle tremor of his hands as he reorganizes the files that he had previously dropped. It makes you feel odd for relishing in the fact that you hadn’t been the only one feeling the tension between the two of you, though that doesn’t help lessen the confusion that soon follows anyway.

Why are you so drawn to him? You have never felt so strongly for someone this quickly, and frankly it sort of frightened you. You’re too afraid to confront that blossoming curiosity inside of you. No, it’s much too soon for that. For now, however…

“Oh shit. I totally forgot to give him back his umbrella,” you curse yourself once you return to your desk. The smiling face of Kumamon looks at you knowingly, as if this had been planned all along.

Well. Now you have an excuse to see him again tomorrow, at least.

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his tenderness quietly. It would go something like this:

Company dinners shouldn’t feel like as much as a punishment as it does, but that’s just how social gatherings with semi-professional coworkers are like. No one here really wants to be there, but the carefully worded e-mail sent to the entire company clearly suggests that this was more of a “go to the party or risk getting fired” type of deal than anything remotely enjoyable. As much as free food and booze are often harbingers of a good time, it hardly makes any difference when your inebriated boss spends the entire time chatting you up in front of the presence of a dozen or so indifferent associates.

“Oh, Y/N! Good job securing that deal with Mister Park the other day. It’s all thanks to my valuable tutelage, is it not?” your manager guffaws, slapping your back with misplaced camaraderie. He leaves his warm, sweaty palm there, feeling it slide an inch lower than you were comfortable with anyone being. The smell of cheap wine on his breath is making you feel nauseous, and the tacky black and white tiled flooring isn’t doing anything to lessen the incoming migraine.

“Right,” you say with a tight-lipped smile, unable to say anything else lest you lose your job over something silly like establishing boundaries. It’s no wonder that the number of female employees on your floor has significantly dropped over the years, especially with rumors attaching themselves like maggots all over your stupid manager’s name. You wouldn’t be surprised if his stomach exploded ala Alien (1979) style with how much bullshit resides in his body and soul.

You’ve long since given up on anyone saving you, not when everyone was either too busy taking advantage of the free food or too scared to confront your shitty boss. You resign to your fate, ready to scrub yourself clean with a brick once you get home in a futile attempt to rid yourself of the feeling of his hands on you.

That is, until someone clears their throat from behind you.

Salvation comes to you wrapped in a crisp white button-up, thick-rimmed glasses, and cat-like eyes. You almost want to start breaking into Gregorian chant just then to fully express your gratitude to the deities of above for sending an angel in your time of tribulation.

“Excuse me,” the (welcome) intruder says, voice quiet but clear even amidst the cacophonous music and chatter. Min Yoongi steps forward until he is to your right, and you don’t miss the way his shoulder “accidentally” bumps your manager hard enough for him to drop his hand from your back. When Yoongi smiles at your manager, it is all teeth and no mirth, his eyes carefully blank.

Thankfully, your manager isn’t quite as fortunate in his brains department as he is in his stomach. “Oh, Yoongi! It is so nice to finally see you attend one of our social functions. You are enjoying yourself, I hope?” your manager asks, guffawing loudly despite no joke being said. You never did quite understand how some men think they are the most hilarious thing to ever exist since clowns, though you suppose your manager was only missing the red nose to complete the look.

“Thrilled, Mister Lee. Absolutely thrilled,” Yoongi says in a dead monotone voice. You can’t help but giggle at his sarcasm, and Yoongi points a wicked grin back at you before returning to his neutral and passive “work” face.

The sarcasm flies over your managers head like you expected, though you can hardly blame the alcohol for his lack of cognizance. You wouldn’t be half surprised if you knocked lightly on his head, only to hear a resounding echo following thereafter.

“I have never seen you at any of our parties before, Yoongi. What’s with the sudden change of heart?” your manager asks.

“Sir, I’ve attended every single social gathering since I was hired,” Yoongi says plainly, his composure never faltering. He must have better control than you, because you’re sure you would’ve barely held yourself back from smacking your manager had it been you. Though in fairness, you aren’t sure if you’ve ever noticed Yoongi at any of the other parties before this one either.

“Oh really? Well then, you mustn’t have said hello before then!” your manager laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder. “Always so enigmatic, our dear Yoongi! Well, keep up the good work.” When your manager turns his attention to speak to another one of your poor coworkers, Yoongi visibly gags from behind your manager’s back, grimacing as he pats away all traces of that foul man’s hand germs away from his dress shirt.

“Gross. Now my sleeve is damp,” he mutters, just audible enough so that only you could hear. You laugh out loud at that, nodding in understanding.

“Same here. There’s probably a gross sweaty handprint on my back now,” you say, wincing when you do feel a noticeable damp spot near the small of your back. “Ugh, what a pig.”

“Tell me about it,” Yoongi shakes his head, making a move to get away from your awful manager. He gestures for you to follow him, and you are more than happy to oblige.

“Thanks for saving me, by the way,” you add, keeping in step with him. He leads you out of the disorienting ballroom, though he doesn’t head towards the exit like you had expected. He appears to know the building much more than you do, given by how assuredly he walks. Either that, or he could be leading you to a deadend, but confidently.

“No problem. You honestly looked like you were about to punt him across the room, though I doubt anyone would be opposed to that magnificent spectacle,” Yoongi jokes, same mischievous grin from before decorating his face. He is so different from the taciturn man you had met two weeks ago, back when he had half-hidden behind his desk like an animal being cornered. Though, that might not be the best analogy to think of, as it only painted you as some sort of predator who came after meek and soft-looking men. Which you aren’t. Hopefully.

“Oh, I would’ve done more than just that, so really he should be thanking you for saving him,” you snort, and Yoongi chuckles lightly in response. Like before, his laughter is just as pleasant as you remember. Your greedy heart yearns to elicit the same sound from him once more, for as many times as you can muster before the night ends.

You had been so immersed in trying to keep up with his quick strides that you don’t notice where exactly he has taken you. The two of you haven’t gone too far away from the ballroom before he stops right in front of a metal double door, the neon green exit sign about it glowing conspicuously in the otherwise dimly lit corridor. He pushes it open, allowing the cool evening air to blow across you and your hand-me-down dress.

“Are we… at the balcony?” you ask, though the view that greets you is answer enough. How Yoongi could have known where the balcony is, you can’t say for certain. But any sort of question dies on your lips when you see how beautiful the skyline is: the stars and city lights twinkling indiscriminately, the sound of nightlife and traffic sounding loud despite the streets being so far away, the smell of ozone signalling an oncoming storm.

This, of course, is what you imagine the view to be like. You know, if the ever reliable Seoul smog wasn’t there to obstruct any sort of magical, romantic view that you should have been privy to.

“Oh damn. I forgot the smog forecast today was especially bad,” Yoongi groans from beside you, quickly shuffling through his pant pockets for a face mask. He procurs two black masks, still in their plastic packaging, and hands one of them to you. “Jesus. Sorry about this. Didn’t expect the smog to be so bad… We can just go back inside, if you want?”

Then, you are reminded of your manager, who is basically pollution incarnate with how terrible his breath is. So, you accept Yoongi’s proffered mask and promptly put it on. “Yeah, no thanks,” you say, voice muffled slightly by the fabric. The implication of your acceptance makes Yoongi grin cheekily back at you (or so you think, guessing by how his eyes crinkle cutely above his mask.)

Now properly equipped to not inhale disgusting air matter into your lungs, you step out farther across the balcony, enjoying the way the cool night breeze feels against your alcohol flushed face. (Though, if you were being honest, the heat on your cheeks has less to do with the meager flute of champagne you had earlier and more to do with the company you currently find yourself with.)

“I fucking hate these company dinners,” you whine a little bit too petulantly, complete with the jutted lip of a child who has been forced to wait as her mother engages in an eternity long conversation with an acquaintance. You lean against the railings near the edge of the building, watching idly as Yoongi does the same. “Don’t you think that if they wanted us to get ‘closer’ with one another, they’d first want to address the fact that some of our coworkers happen to be pigs dressed in white collared shirts?”

Yoongi snorts at that, his right hand immediately coming up to his mouth to silence the unflattering sound. Not that it wasn’t completely charming to you, but you do enjoy the slight abashment that blooms across his face shortly thereafter. “Sorry, didn’t mean to laugh like that. But, I do agree with you… I can’t say that anyone in our department is especially fond of that Habsburg motherfucker.”

Maybe it was the little bit of alcohol in your system, or perhaps it was the sudden rush of realizing that Yoongi is strangely attractive when he swears, but the laugh that exits your mouth sounds a touch too crazed for your liking. Either that, or perhaps you’re finally dying from the pollution.

Luckily for the both of you, it seems that Yoongi likes your weird laugh just as much as you like his. He tries to hide a smile before continuing, “Like, come on! I’m sorry for saying that because attacks on physical appearance is always a low blow, but why the fuck does that dude look like he’s been compressed and flattened on Photoshop? He’s got perpetual flat-face syndrome. You could -  you could land a damn plane on his face or some shit.”

The cork inside of your bursts, and you let out the most ungodly guffaw in your life. You don’t even have the time to be embarrassed by how loud your howls are, not when every word he says hits the mark a little bit too close to home. There’s nothing quite as pleasing than sharing mutual dislike for the same person, and it fills you with the utmost glee that Yoongi is no exception to that rule.

“Oh god… You’re right. You are absolutely right. I seriously can’t believe anyone can put up with him. I mean, the damned bastard couldn’t even remember my name until two weeks ago,” you say, shaking your head in disgust. The first few times he had forgotten, you had been gracious enough to laugh away his mistakes as little more than that: mistakes. But when five years pass and peanuts-for-a-brain still hasn’t deemed that remembering your name to be as important as when the “next big Game™” is, then it’s easy to understand the depth of your resentment towards your manager.

“Are you for real?” Yoongi asks, brows raised in shock. “How could anyone ever forget you – I mean, shit, uh,” Yoongi coughs suddenly, red-faced. You tilt your head in confusion, waiting for him to finish. He’s still kind of spluttering when he continues, “What I meant to say is… H-how could anyone forget their employees name after working here for so long?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I have no idea. Honestly, I think he’s trying to purposefully forget everything I tell him. One time, he had asked me what plans I had for Christmas, and I mentioned to him how I was going to be visiting my parents back home, and he has the gall to ask what country I’m from. Like???” Your face contorts as if you had eaten an entire lemon, so wracked with disbelief that Yoongi can see the hypothetical question marks floating above your head. “Bitch, do I look foreign to that bastard? I’ve lived here all my life!”

Yoongi hums, thoughtful. “Your parents live just an hour away from here, right?”

“I… Yeah, they do,” you reply. You eye Yoongi curiously, watching his all-too familiar flush resurfacing on his neck once more. “Wait… How do you know that?”

“You… You were talking about them, once. To Seulgi? Yea, you were, um…” Yoongi coughs unassuredly, rubbing the back of his neck. A nervous tick of his, you suppose. “It was a year ago? Something about visiting them during the weekend… Not that I was eavesdropping on purpose! I would never, er, do that…”

You don’t even register his embarrassment as you are mostly shell shocked that he had even remembered that little tidbit from over a year ago. Hell, you didn’t even remember going to your parent’s house until he mentioned it. “No it’s fine, I get it. I’m just surprised that you even bothered to remember that.”

Now it’s his turn to look at you strangely. “Of course I remember. Why wouldn’t I?”

You stare at him in disbelief. Fluttering of wings begin to erupt in your stomach, but you hardly have the peace of mind to fully grasp why you were even feeling so flustered in the first place. It was just that he had said it so… matter-of-fact, like there was no possible way he could’ve forgotten even if he tried. It was kind of disconcerting, but flattering all the same. But more importantly--

“Wait, you’ve been working at the company since last year? How have I never seen you before this month?!”

“Oh,” Yoongi coughs out a laugh, scratching the end of his nose. He turns his gaze away, looking anywhere but you. “I was just, umm… Really quiet? I don’t really talk to anyone unless I need to. I’m more of a listener.”

“Oh my God, now I feel even more terrible for not knowing your name! I must look like an egotistic bitch to you,” you despair lowly, cupping your face into your hands in shame. You feel another pair of cold hands clasp your wrists, and you watch in shock as he pulls your palms away with a determined expression.

“What? Of course not. You are definitely not an egotistic bitch, Y/N. In fact, you’re the complete opposite,” Yoongi whispers, so quiet that you might have imagined it. He grasps your hands tightly, like he’s desperate for you to believe him.

You stammer in embarrassment, staring wide-eyed at Yoongi as you try to regrasp your comprehension skills. It’s especially hard to concentrate with how close Yoongi is to you, the latter unaware of his own proximity. He had stepped closer towards you to hold your hand, and normally you hated it when people touched you without permission, but somehow… This was alright.

(Unbeknownst to you, this will not be the first time that Yoongi becomes your secret little exception. It’s only the first of many.)

“I-I don’t really know what to say?” Your gaze is locked on his firm grip on your hands, the only thing flitting through your mind: damn, this dude’s hands really are fucking freezing!

It takes another few seconds for Yoongi to calm down, and you know when it happens because the realization of what he had said makes itself apparent on his expression. He turns beet red in a second, stepping away from you with his arms flying off of you like those inflatable tube men outside car dealerships.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, taking two steps away from you. You almost take two steps forward to keep the distance closer, but you have a feeling that he would keep walking away from you until you both inevitably fall off the balcony, so you smartly choose to stay away (even if it pains you to do so). You wait for his breathing to settle, all the while still reeling from his blatant confession just moments ago.

Could you even consider it a confession? Were you being delulu, or is there some sort of connection that you and Yoongi were both feeling?

“Yoongi, it’s fine! Really,” you smile wryly, raising your hands towards him open-faced, much like how you would do when approaching an agitated animal. Like a nervous kitty, you think privately to yourself. “I’m really flattered that you feel so… strongly?”

“I’m… I’m really not like this normally. Honest,” Yoongi says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I… I never… do that. Whatever that was. Umm.”

Because you’re a freak of nature and enjoy exacerbating awkward social interactions, you decide to respond to him like this: “No worries, I’m flattered, honest! But hey, maybe next time you try to give me a compliment, you could look me in the eye?” You know, like an asshole. Who points out people’s social anxieties like that? You bitch!

On cue, Yoongi’s cheeks bloom into cherry blossoms once more. “I––I, I didn’t mean to––uh!” he stammers.

“No, no, I’m sorry for even saying that!” You apologize profusely, bowing so low that he could probably see the top of your spine. “I didn’t mean to tease you like that! I’m sorry! That was seriously out of line!”

What a pair the two of you were… Like two trains crashing into each other at mach speed, continuously and eternally. A constant and ongoing catastrophe!

(The little gremlin living inside your brain is knocking at your empty skull, whispering deviously, “But doesn’t that make the two of you the perfect pair?”)

When he doesn’t respond back immediately, you have to wrack up enough courage to look back at him. You gasp audibly when you do, and you have to forcibly grip the insides of your bicep to keep yourself from squealing in pure anguish.

Because there, right before your very eyes, is a blushing Min Yoongi looking you straight in the eye with his face squished between his hands, as if he’s forcibly keeping his head locked in place. His pupils are noticeably shaking and his brows are furrowed in concentration, but he’s looking at you. Like you asked.

He’s… He’s too…

“Okay, let me try this again.” Yoongi takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what may be the most embarrassing thing he has ever done in his life. “Y… You’re a great person, Y/N. I hope you know that,” he whispers, voice trailing off by the end of his sentence.

He’s dry heaving like he’s just finished a marathon, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. You’re worried if he even remembers how to blink with how intensely he’s staring you down, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him when your heart is quite literally beating out of your chest like a cartoon character from the 80’s.

“I…” You’re at a loss of words. If Min Yoongi can capture you like this with just a look, then think of how much more powerful he would be if he just learned how to use it. You’re slipping into real dangerous waters, and you don’t know if you’re just a frog in boiling water or if this is where you were meant to be all along.

“Yoongi, I didn’t mean for you to… force yourself like that, really…”

The moment breaks, finally, when Yoongi begins to cry.

“Shit!” you both exclaim, but for two different reasons. “Are you okay? Oh my god!” you reach out for him, not even thinking when you cup his cheeks in your hands. He gently pushes you away with one hand, while the other goes to scrub at his tears.

“Yes, I’m fine! A piece of dust got caught in my eye and I was too slow to blink it away,” he explains, still wiping at his cheeks. He pulls his mask down to his chin, pouting cutely at you. “Sorry. I’m not used to looking people in the eye yet. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Oh my god. At this point, you’d be surprised if your heart was located anywhere near your body. You were running purely on autopilot, so enamored by the boy in front of you that you could almost faint. He was entirely too unreal, unbelievably so. Perhaps, if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to find your heart again, and you know the first place where you’d look.

“Give it back,” you mumble, and Yoongi tilts his head at you in confusion.

“Sorry? Did you say something?”

“Nothing,” you reply, reaching over him and snapping his mask back on his face. You laugh as he splutters in surprise, floundering about overdramatically as if the elastic on the mask had done any damage to him at all. “Oh, stop it. You’re just being silly now.”

“Hey, I have delicate skin! You never know,” he jokes, but stops when you give him an unimpressed look.

“Sorry,” he laughs again. “And well, since I keep saying sorry today, and you look like you could use a little warming up, do you wanna leave this place and get some coffee? My treat.”

And really, who were you to say no to that?

And really, who were you to say no to Min Yoongi?

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his thoughtfulness quietly. It would go something like this:

A steaming hot coffee cup from the nearby cafe manifests itself on your desk one Monday morning. In your sleep-deprived haze, you had originally failed to realize that there was a hand connected to that cup and that it hadn’t actually just materialized from thin air like you had thought. After much blinking and staring, you crane your head up to see Jesus standing in front of you, his glasses still fogged from the outside chill.

“I got you a drink. I hope I remembered your order right,” Yoongi says in lieu of a greeting, a small smile gracing his lips as he watches you lethargically reach over for the cup to lift the lid open. His grin widens when he sees your eyes light up at the sight of little marshmallows bobbing up and down in your hot chocolate, bits of whipped cream already melting away from the heat. When you take a sip, you breathe a content sigh, your eyelids fluttering shut.

“Yoongi, I’m going to kiss your feet right now and you can’t stop me,” you say, upper lip lined with cream and sugar. Yoongi’s hand twitches by his side, but he doesn’t move.

“Even if I have toe fungus?”

“Especially if you have toe fungus,” you say, downing as much hot chocolate down your throat without choking and barfing all over him.

From the rim of your cup, you can see that Yoongi still has his parka on, his signature black mask pulled down his chin indicating that he’s only just arrived at the office. It makes your heart jump a little, knowing that he went straight to you first before anyone else that day.

“I still don’t understand how you hate coffee. Like, I don’t think I’d be able to be conversing with you right now if I didn’t have caffeine running through my veins,” he says, staring at you(r lips) as you chew a marshmallow thoughtfully.

You want to tell him that Yoongi doesn’t talk a lot anyway in the first place, though you have begun to notice that he’s becoming more talkative the more you hang out with him. However, you aren’t quite sure if you’re imagining it, but it seems like Yoongi’s change in personality doesn’t really apply when he’s with anyone else. On the days where you’d pass by his cubicle on the way to the water coolers, he’d still have his usual stoic expression on his face as he goes through his paperwork with the grace of a robot. When he’s with you, however…

“Says the guy who’s started drinking frappes after I suggested them to you. Don’t lie to me, Min Yoongi.” You’re giggling softly, and you can tell Yoongi’s seams are already breaking. Pink gums and straight teeth are seconds away from peaking through. You wink cheekily at him.  “You’re just as sweet as your personality is.”

“Stop, that’s so embarrassing!” he exclaims, hiding behind his hands. He’s already smiling. “I’m not as sweet as you think! I’m a mean guy!”

“Yoongi, you literally just bought me hot chocolate with marshmallows because you remembered what I like. I don’t think there’s a mean bone in your body,” you retort, rolling your eyes at the prominent pout on his face.

“Not true! I stole an extra coupon booklet when I was at the grocery store the other day.”

“Ooooh, I do love a bad boy,” you say, but the two of you are already laughing hysterically. “Seriously, thanks. I really needed this today.”

“Dang, bad morning already?” he winces, having noticed the purple moons under your eyes when he had approached you. He didn’t want to mention it without you bringing it up first, but he had been worried about you since last Friday when you had left the workplace with a slammed door.

“Try bad weekend. Mr. Lee has been pushing my buttons for months now, but I seriously didn’t think he thought it was a challenge. He’s been giving me shitty filing jobs to complete like I’m some overworked intern!”

Yoongi cocks his head, confused. “Aren’t you, like… In the advertising department? Why would he make you file things?”

“Exactly!” You’re all but roaring now, but Yoongi can’t help smirking at the stray dollop of whipped cream that had somehow found its way on your nose. He pulls his sleeve over his wrist, swiping it away with the fabric as nonchalantly as possible (which is to say, he’s as red as a spanked ass when he does it.)

You don’t even notice his actions, still deep in the abyss of your rage. “And also! My shitty phone ran out of storage space the other day so I’ve had to delete all the songs on my library and I can’t find any good playlists on Spotify to help me dissociate on the train!”

“Wow, that’s a mood,” Yoongi says, chuckling. He clears his throat, an idea popping into his head. He turns bashful all of a sudden, gaze diverting upwards as he musters the courage to say, “I-I mean, I think I can help you with that last problem, if you want…”

You stop huffing and puffing long enough to appear intrigued. “Oh? Are you gonna send me a playlist?”

Yoongi splutters. “I mean! If you want it, I do have some songs that I like listening to.”

Yoongi squeaks when you smile at that, radiant and all-encompassing. He wonders how he’s not dead right now.

“Oh god, that would be great actually! Text me the link, would you?” you say, already making grabby hands for his phone. “Here, lemme put my phone number in your phone.”

Yoongi almost drops his phone as he takes it out of his pocket, staring in awe as he watches you type in your number into his phone. He has to keep himself from outright howling when he sees you place a sunflower emoji beside your name. How fitting, he thinks to himself.

When you return the phone back to him, he immediately texts you the link to his playlist. You have to keep yourself from screaming to the heavens when you see the very Yoongi-esque title, “Songs for the Sleepless,” complete with the grainy-noir-film-type playlist art to complete the look. It was just so… personal, so Yoongi, and it’s making you clench organs that you didn’t know were clenchable.

You whistle at the sheer number of songs on the playlist, with the first song being—“Didn’t peg you as a Lana Del Rey fan,” you pipe up, scrolling through his playlist with acute interest. “Kendrick Lamar and Epik High, I understand. But Lana?”

To his credit, the playlist did seem like it had a narrative of sorts, despite the eclectic range of artists and genres. You only recognize maybe ten of the songs from his five hundred song playlist, and you’re very curious to see what type of songs he connects to.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he shrugs his shoulders, though a little bit embarrassed. “Lana Del Rey could sing my obituary and I’d jump out of my grave in an instant.”

“Bit morbid but okay,” you laugh, finger ready to close your music player app when you catch sight of a song with an artist you didn’t expect to see. You reach over to tug on his sleeve, your sly smile already causing Yoongi to break out in hives. “Hey… I didn’t know you shared your name with a singer, unless, of course…”

Yoongi doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when he yelps in surprise, snatching your phone out of your grip as his eyes bug out of his sockets. His ears redden, words tumbling out of his mouth like a waterfall as he tries to explain himself despite your raucous giggling.

“I––You weren’t supposed to––I forgot about! That was––I was just––Ugh,” he groans despairingly, smacking himself in the forehead with your phone. You’re still giggling madly, enjoying the spectacle before you as Yoongi’s ears are practically shooting out steam.

“You’re so cute.” It slips out of your mouth with such ease that you almost don’t notice saying it at all; you’re still smiling dreamily at Yoongi as he stares at you in shock, mouth still agape from his earlier rambling. You gasp loudly when your brain cells finally catch up, but by then it’s already too late. Now, the two of you were a matching pair, with your fire engine red ears standing at attention.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that,” you mutter into your hands. You wish the earth would swallow you whole right now.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you just said that,” Yoongi wails beside you, but you don’t notice the small satisfied smile he’s sporting on his reddened face. “Y-You can’t just say things and not expect me to…”

You look up, wondering why he’d suddenly trailed off at the end. “Expect you to what?”

Yoongi, once again, defies the laws of the universe by somehow turning even redder than humanly possible. “N-nothing. Ignore me. Let’s just admit we’re both embarrassing and carry on, can we?”

“Sure,” you agree, nodding enthusiastically. “But, does that mean I can listen to your songs, Mister Min ‘I’m-a-superstar-singer-in-my-spare-time’ Yoongi?”

“I’m not a superstar! I just record songs in my free time, that’s all,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Says the guy who apparently raps as a hobby! Seriously, I can tell I’m gonna love it already.”

His gaze is turned upwards, cheeks puffed up in embarrassment. He looks like he wants to say something else, however, and you wait for him as he tries to gather the courage to say what else is on his mind. “S-say, I was wondering… Since I’m already here and all, do you want to maybe go out wi—”

“Yo! Hyung!”

A deep voice from across the office floor snaps the two of you out of your little bubble in an instant. It doesn’t take a genius to tell who it is, not when there’s only one person in the entire company who would dare wear a sushi-print tie to work at one of the most lucrative companies in the country.

Kim Namjoon hobbles over to your little cubicle space in all his sushi-print tie glory, knocking over a coworker’s potted plant in the process. Between you and Yoongi, you had been more surprised by Namjoon’s sudden exclamation, mostly because you’d never been particularly close with the eccentric man. Yoongi probably can’t say the same since he had briefly mentioned that he and Namjoon go way back, though you’re starting to have some doubts about that due to the dirty glare Yoongi was currently pointing at the sentient noodles-for-legs.

Namjoon waves cheerily at you before cutting to the chase as he envelops Yoongi in a not-too-gentle hug. “Hyung! I’ve been looking for you. You weren’t at your desk this morning so I was wondering where you’d wandered off, but of course I’d find you here at Y/N’s de––”

Yoongi promptly stomps on Namjoon’s feet, causing the younger to yelp out in pain. “Namjoon. I told you I’d talk to you later.” Yoongi smiles sweetly, but you can see the aura of danger radiating off of him in waves. “Emphasis on later.”

Namjoon pouts petulantly, but he doesn’t look all that offended. “I was just gonna remind you to ask Y/N if she wanted to join us for lunch la––OUCH! WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET!”

Yoongi appears unbothered, not even looking back at Namjoon’s shouts of betrayal. All the while, he still has his gaze trained on you, never wavering for one second.

“Please ignore my colleague. He can a bit… Unnecessarily loud,” Yoongi says, accompanied by Namjoon’s splutters of indignation.

“Umm?? I’m right here?? Your actual best friend?? Geez!” Namjoon huffs, looking at the both of you incredulously. You just shrug your shoulders, completely dumbfounded by the last five minutes of human interaction.

“As Namjoon was saying before we were so rudely interrupted… I was going to ask if you wanted to have lunch with me? Namjoon can join too, but only if he behaves,” Yoongi jokes, smirking at Namjoon’s ireful glares.

You giggle quietly at the unlikely pair, amused beyond belief at this new side of Yoongi that you hadn’t been aware of. So this is how he is with his friends… Cocky Yoongi is definitely someone you wouldn’t mind talking to occasionally, you admit.

“Sure, I’d love to. Just let me finish all this filing crap for Mr. Lee, then I’ll head over to your desk at around 12?” If you work at a breakneck pace, then you could probably finish sooner if you didn’t let anything else distract you. “Oh! And I should probably return your umbrella before you leave. I keep forgetting to give it back to you.”

“No worries,” Yoongi says. “You should keep the umbrella. I’ve got a spare anyway.”

Namjoon’s head whips toward Yoongi at that, staring at him skeptically. “Dude. Ain’t that your favorite Kumamon umbrella though? Didn’t you almost murder me that one time I forgot it at the McDonald’s last mo––WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET! I’M GONNA GET FLATFOOT SYNDROME!”

“Not my problem,” Yoongi replies, pinching Namjoon’s nose for good measure. He turns to you, waving goodbye. “See you in a few?”

You stretch your back, psyching yourself up to get back to work. “Right. I’ll text you when I’m done okay? See you at 12-ish!”

The boys make their leave, bickering all the while. You catch wind of a bit of their conversation as they turn the corner, their voices echoing down the hall.

“Hey, I noticed that you were looking Y/N in the eye when you were speaking. Why don’t you ever look me in the eye when we talk!”

Yoongi snorts, flipping him off. “It’s because you’re not as nice to look at. Simple as that.”

In your seat, you smile secretly to yourself, butterflies erupting in your chest. Filled with newly found fervor, you chip away at the pile of work on your desk until it starts to vanish from view.

Before you know it, you’re off to see Yoongi once more.

x x x x x 

There is a boy you know who likes to show his vulnerability quietly. It would go something like this:

x x x x x 

There is a boy you know who likes to show his love quietly. It would go something like this:

Your day begins with a phone call: a warning. Your boss tells you to come into work as soon as possible, not a note of enthusiasm or friendliness in his tone. He ends the call just as abruptly as it had come, the silence following soon after deafening your ears. Your heart races marathons in your chest, and your brain goes to the worst place it can go.

Your hands are sweating gallons upon gallons as you shrug your coat on, fumbling with your keys as you struggle to place them in your pocket. For a brief moment, you think about calling Yoongi for moral support, but think better of it. You don’t want to bother anyone, especially not him.

You, the lone ranger, walk out of your apartment and into the murky urban outdoors, the first pitter-patters of rain making their descent the moment your foot meets the pavement. You don’t have quite the energy to go back inside to grab your umbrella, not when you’re unsure if you’ll be courageous enough to leave your bedroom once more if you did.

You’d always been a coward, a soft-hearted fool. Content with shouldering the consequences of your actions without another word: a sufferer in silence. For the past few weeks, you thought you might have changed. You’d been smiling a lot more, laughing a lot more. Your cheeks were often more red than any other color these days, and it was all thanks to a boy you know.

He was shy, but brave. Quiet, but talkative. Mysterious, but vulnerable.

He made you realize that there was no need to settle for one side of a coin, not when you could have both. The longer you stuck around him, the stronger your desire was to become… more.

You wanted to be open; you wanted to be known. You wanted to be able to ask for what you want, and never feel the crushing sense of guilt that usually came afterwards. You wanted to be unapologetic, wanted to keep your hands open, waiting for good things to come your way. To never cower in the face of a gift being handed to you. You wanted to have all that life has to offer––

(Him. Him. Him.)

But there is something pitiful about being unable to keep your own promises. The embarrassment of returning to the state where you once were, of turning meek at the first sign of adversity. The dreams of a happier life drifts away from you like mist under the morning sun, and the pressing weight of the world once again makes its home on your shoulders.

And so, you do not cry when your boss tells you to pack up your things within the hour.

You do not cry when you cut your finger on the corner of your desk that had never been replaced during your five-year stay at this company.

You do not cry when one of your potted plants smash to the floor when you try to carry too many things at once.

You do not cry when co-workers you’d only barely spoken to come over to your desk with showers of condolences, as if you’d already died.

You do not cry when Kim Namjoon walks over to you, quietly bending down to help you carry your boxes down to the lobby.

And when all is said and done, you most especially do not cry when Min Yoongi runs to you with his lungs burning in his chest, glasses still fogged up from the morning cold outside. His hair is in disarray and his shirt is on backwards, as if he’d jumped out of bed the moment he knew something was wrong. When he skids to a halt right in front of you, the pain etched on his face is as plain as day.

Wordlessly, he takes the last box out of your hands, placing his car keys on top when he can’t hold onto them both. His eyes flit towards your clenched fists for a second, but looks away the moment you notice. Instead, he walks out to the elevator, and you follow soon after.

You do not cry when Min Yoongi helps you load his car with your things. You do not cry when he takes a first-aid kit out of his glovebox and puts a band-aid on your finger. You do not cry when he offers to pass by the local home depot to pick up a new plant when he notices yours is gone. You do not cry when he doesn’t treat you like your life has ended.

(But you feel it. Pricking along your eyes like a dam about to break. He is doing this to you. He’s making you feel again, and it fucking hurts.)

And so, he drives you home.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Yoongi starts after a while, tapping a rhythm away on his steering wheel as he waits for the morning rush traffic to subside. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, worried when you don’t respond. You keep your head pressed against the cool car window, staring blankly at the gray skyline.

“I… I hope you don’t mind if I play you something. Just… Just listen to it, okay?”

You don’t see him, but you hear his fingers switch their tapping to his phone as he unlocks it, searching for the song he wants you to hear. It takes a moment or two for him to find it, soft curses tumbling from his lips as he goes through his Google Drive for the unfinished draft that he hadn’t meant to show you until it was complete, but well––

You were always an exception to him, weren’t you?

The first notes come creeping up from behind you, and it reminds you of the way Yoongi would speak to you. All soft whispers and gummy smiles, like he’s restraining himself. Slowly but surely, the music grows louder, more confident with its sound. You can picture Yoongi standing upright, hand outstretched towards you as he asks you to follow him.

The song is unfamiliar, but there’s something about it that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention. You’re trying to go through your memories, sorting through the hundreds of songs that Yoongi has made you listen to but none of them seem to ring a bell. You’re still trying to figure out if you’d heard this before when the lyrics finally start.

“Lost in the sea of my regrets, you became my polaris.”

Yoongi’s voice comes from the radio speaker, jolting you from your seat. Your spine straightens, and you stare bullets at Yoongi’s phone as the song continues to play. When you look towards him, Yoongi’s face is a statue; the only thing giving away the fact that he was with you at all was the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“The shadows, which had been my haven, no longer feel as good as they once did. You, my light, have changed all of that.”

You gasp, and Yoongi’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. It seems like the two of you stop moving at that moment, neither of you daring to breathe. Even the outside traffic sounds muted compared to the sound of your hearts hammering inside your chests.

“I’ve long since forgotten to pray, but I will remember for you. I only dream of happiness for you, my morning light, my northern star. And I’d give it all up for you.”

Yoongi notices your tears fall before you even do; he’s quick to fluster, scrambling through his car side door for a tissue to hand to you, but he stops the moment he feels your hand fist the elbow of his sleeve. He turns to look at you, all blotchy and tear-stained, but beautiful all the same. And even through your tears, you smile just as radiantly as when he had first seen you.

“Thank you,” you mouth, fingers trembling as you fight to keep more tears from falling, but nothing can stop a dam from breaking. Not when you’re sitting beside the hurricane who broke it in the first place; it was the boy with feelings that never did quite fit in his body the way other people’s did.

Luckily, they fit right in with you.

When the song comes to the end, you’re sniffling up a storm, but you still haven’t let go of him. When you’re only a few minutes away from your apartment, Yoongi parks a little bit far off from your doorstep, so you have to walk the rest of the way home. But you’re still unwilling to let go, not yet.

Gently, Yoongi pries your hand away from his sleeve and you’re about to protest, but the words die on your lips the moment they form when Yoongi rubs his hands along the side of his slacks before placing them in yours. His hands are still cold, but comforting all the same.

“Let me walk you home?” he whispers.

You nod. Of course, you want to say. But he knows what you mean, anyway.

When he goes to unpack your things from the trunk, you shake your head, stopping him from moving any further. “I… I don’t feel like sorting through those things right now. Is it fine with you if I just… Go home for now? Please?” Your brain feels like lead in your skull after all the bottled up tears had finally escaped from years of constant pressure, and you don’t think you’re quite ready to go through all those emotions again. You feel deflated, but better. He always makes you feel better.

Yoongi closes the trunk, locking his car before stretching out his hands for you. You stare at the proffered hand for a moment.

“Oh, right.” Yoongi goes to rub his hands to warm them, but you stop him once more in his ministrations. He looks at you, confused, as you grab his hand from him. You rub circles into his palm, staring at the ground in embarrassment.

“You’re always warming your hands for me… So this time, I’ll warm them for you, okay?”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything in response to that. Instead, he tugs you along towards the sidewalk and keeps you close to him. As he walks with you, you notice the way he leans slightly to the left, like he’s drawn to you––like he can’t help be more than an inch further from you.

You keep glancing back down at your linked hands; he’s shaking, but then again, that could also be you.

You arrive at the gate of your apartment quicker than you would have liked. Neither of you move to separate; when you look back at Yoongi, you see that his eyes are trained on you. He doesn’t even flinch away like he used to. His lips are pursed, like he wants to say something but he’s still too afraid to.

So you say it for him instead.

“Do you have… somewhere to be?” Unlike you, he still has a job. He still has commitments. He still has a life outside of you. You’re hit with fear, once again, at the sudden change in your circumstances.

You might never get to see him again. Is this where your paths cross, never to intersect again? Your stomach drops at the thought, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“No, I don’t. I could…” Yoongi trails off, glancing at your apartment with soft hesitance. “If… If you want me to…”

Yes. Please. I’d love it. I love yo–– ”Yes. Stay with me?” you mumble.

“Always,” he promises.

The pair of you trudge up to your apartment, passing by the prying eyes of housewives with your heads bowed in embarrassment. They don’t miss your pinkies linked behind your backs, nor the subtle blushes on the apples of your cheeks. Thankfully, they don’t comment when Yoongi enters your apartment after you, but they do giggle when his coat gets caught on the door handle in his rush.

When the two of you are finally alone, the air isn’t as awkward as you had feared. You work like two cogs in a machine; he readies your TV and scrolls through your Netflix for a movie, while you go to your kitchen and have a small mental breakdown (while also microwaving some popcorn). Soon, the two of you are snuggled into your small couch, elbows barely brushing against each other.

You’re only half paying attention to the generic action movie that Yoongi had put on; you were still deep in your thoughts. You’re picking away at your hangnail, worrying your lip as you try to enjoy what might be the last time you’ll ever get to hang out with Yoongi again. You’re so deep in your musings that you don’t immediately feel when Yoongi wraps his arms around your shoulder, nestling your head into his chest.

“W… What?” You crane your head and stare at Yoongi in shock, but he’s already returned his attention back to the movie. His cheeks are burning.

You’re still stiff with tension despite his comforting caresses against your hair, so he changes tactics and brings your hand up to his.

You think he’s just going to hold your hand, but he keeps bringing your hand up until it gently caresses his face. Just as you’re about to ask him what he’s doing, he curls your fingers until only your pointer is left unfurled, and casually uses it to poke himself in the cheek.

He leaves it there for a second or two, and when you finally turn to face him, he’s smiling so sweetly at you that you almost feel compelled to cry again. His eyes and nose are all scrunched up, rose petal gums on full display. Your finger is still pressed gently into his soft cheeks.

“You said you liked to dream about poking my bread cheeks. Well, here’s your chance,” he says, like it’s nothing at all. As if what he has done was as simple as breathing.

Yoongi’s smile brightens when he feels your form relax against him, giggling softly when you go to pinch his cheek for good measure.

“Bread cheekies,” you say, like you’re in a trance.

Yoongi nods. “Bread cheekies,” he repeats. “And it’s all yours.”

There’s a promise in there, you know. Somehow, he had sensed your worry and had thought of the perfect way to calm you. Like always, he never has to say it. He’s never needed words, anyway.

The two of you stay like that for hours. The sun sets as surely as the moon rises, and Min Yoongi stays with you through the night. When your mind drifts off and only your steady breathing fills the room, Min Yoongi brushes a small kiss against your forehead.

“Dream of happiness, my love,” he whispers into your skin, just when he thinks you’re asleep, “I’ll dream of you, too.”

It’s a promise that he keeps.

There is a boy you know who never learned how to say he loves you, but it never mattered all that much to you––not when he’s willing to show you over and over again. It goes something like this––

[banzaitaka]

hey son,

you know ily.

anyways can you do

diabolik lovers reiji sakamaki x nonbinary reader?

plot :

reiji is chilling in his private living room from the rest of his brothers and enjoying some alone time with his tea.

but something is weird and smelly about his tea. he starts yelling at his brothers who touched his tea but no one seems to care and to have touched his tea either.

reiji feels betrayed. he starts tearing up and going to the roof from his school the next day.

ruki comes in and calls him pathetic at that moment reader hears this and starts attacking ruki and throwing some hands.

reiji looks at them in awe. reader belated ruki and he gets up quickly and sees that his suit is gone. he is naked but doesn't feel in any way shame.

ruki left.

reader goes to reiji and pats his head. reiji smiles at us, the stranger who is also a student from the school.

reader starts slowly smiling back but like a creep and says "i touched your tea yesterday and i have stalked you for a long while. I know what you are and where you live. let's get married and drink your love poisoned tea next time".

reiji doesn't know what to say at what she just confessed and falls from the roof and starts panickly running.

THE END

---

Hey mom owo

Ilyt

I was just about to go to sleep, but then it started thundering outside and I'm so fcking scared of thunder storms so----AHH- I made it more cracky than I originally planned to make myself laugh xkxkfkf

Diabolik Lovers_Masterlist

TW: This is a crack fic, "adult jokes"?

Reiji Sakamaki x gn! reader

How to confess; for dummies

What did Reiji do to deserve this? Just a few minutes ago, he sat comfortably in his armchair, his favorite book "How to have sex; for dummies" in hand.

He didn't have to play mom for his brothers for that day, so he decided to not let the opportunity to relax go to waste.

He already had his hair curlers in his hair and wore his long nightgown and pink, plush crocs as he reached for his tea. Only to smell that something was off about it. It smelled weird.

Reiji scoffed loudly, "Herr Gott nochmal! Diese Burschen!*"

(*A very old-school German way to say: "God damnit! These guys!" I just found it funny kfkfkf & he speaks German fluently so-)

The black-haired gracefully waddled into the living room were all of his brothers, conveniently, played uno together.

"Fullhouse!", Ayato yelled as he layed down his cards, making the others moan in defeat. Reiji gasped at this, pulled his spatula out of his pants and walked over to the group.

"NO YELLING!!", Reiji hit Shu right across the face. Shu fainted. Or pretended to faint. No one knows.

Subaru slammed his hands on the table, making it break in the process before pulling out an uno reversed card. Everyone in the room gasped, everyone, except Reiji, getting all riled up. The albino refused to use Reiji's spatula, so he used Kanato instead. He smacked his older brother with his younger older brother in the face.

Ayato, Laito and Teddy cheered Subaru on, but Subaru carefully laid Kanato on the floor, saying, "No. No more. I already paid him back."

Reiji was full on crying by then, face red from being slapped with Kanato. The vampire wiped his tears away, "Which one of you touched my tea!?"

"Huh? What are you talking about Bitch-niisan?", Laito asked as he dealt the uno cards for the next round on the broken table. Everyone went back to their previous places, ready to win the privilege of the last pizza slice.

Reiji tried to scoff and ask again, but what came out was a whine as he stamped his foot and ran away.

"They don't even care!", he yelled in his pillow and then cried himself to sleep.

A few hours later, the black-haired found himself ontop of the roof of his school. He didn't want anyone to see how miserable he looked like. How defeated he was.

Ruki opened the door to the roof and took a few steps forward, making Reiji turn around slightly at the sound.

The half blood stared into Reiji's pink eyes for solid 4.44 seconds, and proceeded to hit the most gorgeous whip, ever whipped, "Pathetic.", he says. The pigeon tried his best to hold back his tears, but it was hard.

Suddenly, a figure appeared behind Ruki, kicking him in the balls, "You forgot to 'nae nae', you faker!", they screeched at him.

The pink-eyed watched the stranger punching the Mukami so hard he lost all of his clothes. They were just gone. Ruki stared at the (Y/HC)-haired, terrified. He quickly stood up and dusted off his naked body before leaving the rooftop, without speaking another word.

Reiji was left there, awestruck, as (Y/N) was approaching him with a skip in their step. They slowly raised their hand and petted him on the head.

A large smile spread across Reiji's face. There was still someone who cared for him!

(Y/N)'s expressionless stare turned slowly into a smile as well, that kind of smile only our yandere waifus can pull off. "I was the one who messed with your tea.", they admitted, turning Reiji into the shocked pikachu meme.

(Y/N) ignored his face as they continued, "I openly stalked you for a while. I know everything about you. What you are. Where you live...", their gaze drifted to Reiji's crotch. Reiji took in a sharp breath, "...what color your underwear is. Hm? What were you thinking? Ah, yes I know that too."

They pinched the vampire's cheek, "Anyways, let's marry and drink your love poisoned tea together."

You could see sparks and smoke coming from the black-haired's head, shocked from that proposal, while (Y/N) smiled at him expectantly. Suddenly, Reiji's legs gave in under him and he fell from the roof.

Now with torn clothes and scratches all over his skin, he ran away.

In the end, he found a boar and meerkat in a pretty cool forest where he lived until...he woke up from his dream.

He quickly sat up, his skin covered in sweat and his breath heavy.

"Good morning, bby boi~"

Reiji slowly turned his head to the side where (Y/N) laid, smiling at him like they did when they first met.

Wtf did I just write