#it's odd that it happened thrice

[rednightmare18]

no ranged hottie is safe from henry the archerfucker of skalitz

[watermel0ns-dumb-cringe]

[ June Doe — Day 19 ( @june-doe-2024 )]

Crossover !

mb for missing yesterday chat anyways hi I like otgw a normal amount (lying)

[jade-lop]

Source.

[dearmisshoney]

blanket monster

synopsis. with your radiator broken, you either freeze to death or borrow a blanket from your roommate mattheo. what happens when a badly planned thievery causes you to be trapped with him under his blanket? beneath the covers, there are no rules: just heat, hunger, and a monster with your name on his tongue.

pairing. roommate! mattheo riddle x reader

content/mdni. fem!reader, roommate!au, cocky!mattheo, pervert!mattheo, sleepy!mattheo, tit play, dry/wet-humping, clit stimulation, thigh-fucking, neck kissing, a lot of tension, teasing, praise, begging, dirty talk, name-calling (good girl, baby), messy, unprotected p in v (although matty preaches safe sèx), a lot of restraint, quite soft ngl, a ton of plot

word count. 3.8k

a/n. i am still not fully back, but i managed to write this! y’all already know i have strangely specific plots. hope you enjoy it tho! feedback and reblogs are extremely appreciated

after a weak push, the door creaked open with a high-pitched hum, slowly revealing mattheo’s room. surprisingly, it was drowned in silence — his pc was shut down, his phone locked and tucked away in his nightstand, only visible thanks to the shimmering white of the charger.

his window was closed, but his curtains were wide open, allowing the beautiful shine of the moon to spill into the chamber and gloss all over its constituents.

including mattheo’s sleeping form.

he was submerged under a fluffy blanket, sprawled across the bed on his side. only his curly tuff of hair was visible, the rest of his body completely covered by the thick covers.

“mattheo.”

you whisper-yelled his name as you inched closer and closer to him, trespassing into his room without his permission yet again.

in your defense, you first gave him a warning of your arrival on his phone, but he seems to have disregarded any sort of message from you to sleep.

“mattheo.”

you tried again, this time with a sharper tone, a bit annoyed that he was not stirring awake from your first call.

he was as unwavering as a log, maintaining his initial position under the covers. his breath was stilled and controlled, only small snores leaving his probably parted lips here and there.

mattheo could have been robbed in his sleep and he would have had no idea.

“matty, c’mon.”

you were bolder now, bending at your waist above the bed and urging him to wake up in a louder voice.

the new, proximal position allowed you to see his face clearly — peaceful, no crease or wrinkle on his sleeping expression. his lips were indeed open, but thankfully no drool slipped away between them. his beautiful chocolate eyes were covered by heavy lids and sealed away by his thick lashes. his curls were partly sticking to his forehead, skin heated from the warmth of his slumber, partly spread all across his pillow in a confusing mess.

“this fool is sweating while i am freezing to death.”

that's why you came to his room — you needed to borrow another blanket as yours did little to nothing to help with the low temperature in your room. your radiator broke during the day and, despite mattheo’s generous offer to sleep in his room, you stood your ground and decided to face the cold on your own.

big mistake.

not even your thickest pajamas and a mountain of blankets did the trick.

“mattyyyyy.”

elongating the vowel at the end of his nickname, you called out to him one last time. you even put on your sweetest voice, somehow sure this time you will succeed in waking him up. and to make odds be in your favour, you even scrunched up the long sleeves of your blouse and poke at his cheek with your bare finger.

once.

…

twice.

…

thrice.

…

“ugh.”

you puffed, annoyed beyond compare when mattheo did not budge. there was no point in pestering him further; you’d only get angrier at his lack of reaction.

promptly straightening your back, you turned around and took a step away from his bed.

maybe you should search for a blanket on your own.

it’s not like the room was in complete darkness, the moon shining brighter than ever through the window. plus, the only logical place for mattheo to store a spare blanket was his wardrobe.

it would be easy to find.

but you completely underestimated mattheo and his dirty pig attics.

his wardrobe was a total mess. his clothes were barely folded, thrown into any drawer — multiple drawers, even. and when you tried to pull something that looked like a blanket, all soft and fluffy, the entire mountain of clothes twitched.

“hell nah.”

you immediately abandoned the so-called blanket, shoving the material back in and rapidly closing the door. challenging the monstruous wardrobe was a bad move on your part; if that thing collapsed on you, you’d have been buried in mattheo’s mess until the end of time.

should i just take the blanket he has on him now?

a devious thought crossed your mind as you were staring at the mirror-like surface of the wardrobe, shamelessly eyeing the blanket covering mattheo.

a devious thought that sounded like a splendid idea.

it wasn’t like mattheo would wake up because of it. he would most likely sleep soundly until morning, and only then he would realize someone robbed him of his precious covers. moreover, that fucker is a walking radiator himself, generating heat and burning like a fire. you’d be more appreciative of his blanket than him.

so, after making up your mind, you drew closer to his bed again. your legs inched quicker and quicker with feather-like steps, and thanks to your long pants, catching underneath your feet, any sort of floor creaking was prevented.

all that commotion with the wardrobe did nothing to mattheo — he was still fast asleep, in the same position in which you’ve found him at the beginning of your intrusion. almost drowning in the covers, it was fortunate that the blanket seems to not be trapped under him.

assessing the position of the blanket and the strange entanglement of limbs that could be lying underneath, you decided that pulling from the very middle of the material would be the best choice. dipping your body downwards, you carefully grasp the edge of the blanket, securing a good chunk of it between your grabby fingers.

and you pulled it towards you. slow. calculated.

a cheeky smiled spread on your face when the blanket slowly began to budge from its place, gliding across mattheo without perturbing his deep slumber. you could already feel the way this very blanket will solve all your issues and give you the best sleep known to man.

you barely managed to peel the blanket halfway when movement halted abruptly. you tugged and tugged at the material, some sharper tugs, some gentle tugs, but nothing happened.

“it’s stuck?”

you whisper-yelled at the sudden realization, terribly infuriated by this stupid impediment. did the blanket catch onto one of mattheo’s pillows? or was it perhaps his leg or arm?

leaning over the bed to scout the area with your eyes, you momentarily lessen your grip on the covers. mattheo was surely too far gone into dreamland to notice your looming figure, so you could survey the area in peace and decide your next move.

yet, with your guard lowered down, a new, foreign arm joined in.

sneaking fastly around your torso and dragging you into the bed, underneath the blanket.

“fuck!” a mere curse word managed to escape from your lips before the strong pull stole your breath away. “you awake?” a half-muttered rhetorical question left your mouth immediately after, your entire body twitching and turning in mattheo’s lazy grasp, trying to escape and assess the new situation.

“shhh, too loud.”

a deep, rumbling voice broke your exasperated protests, snapping you out of your frenzy and bringing your entire attention back to the person next to you. and the proximity between you two.

he was awake. and really close.

“settle down.”

mattheo’s voice was heavy with sleep, his words half-murmured against your forehead. you could feel the warm breath fanning across your face, and if you tried hard enough you could feel his lips themselves brushing over your skin.

“no, let me–”

your little complaints began again, this time fueled by the dangerously short distance between your two bodies. to make matters worse, you were facing each other; mattheo’s face was resting a bit higher than yours, yet still too close to your liking.

you were burning with embarrassment, struggling to free yourself, while he was still as serene as ever.

“–go.”

despite his gentle expression and his half-lidded eyes, true signs of drowsiness, mattheo sharply disobeyed your commands and tightened his grasp around your waist, pulling you even closer.

“ah, wait.”

you had no time to react, your nose bumping into his hard chest in mere seconds. his warm body instantly ignited your cold one, and you subconsciously buried your face deeper, nuzzling against his skin.

 skin?

skin.

bare, hot, unmistakable skin.

you abruptly stopped, face slowly backing away from his body to confirm that he was indeed shirtless — to confirm that your poor tired mind was not playing tricks on you.

“matty?”

you whispered his name, testing whether he has already succumbed to the heaviness of sleep. if he did, there was no point in confronting him. you’d just sneak away and back into your roo–

“hm?”

but he was still awake. his hum of approval was low, barely above a whisper, but thanks to your closeness, you felt the vibrations of his vocal cords shoot through his chest.

“you’re shirtless.”

you hoped a reminder of his bare torso would make him back off, instill some distance between you two. heck, maybe even make him let you go. but mattheo only smirked at your statement, a slight peek of his marble teeth shining together with the moonlight.

contrary to your expectations, mattheo dipped his head downwards, traversing from your forehead lower and lower and lower. his lips made a short stop right above your mouth, and that’s when panic surged inside you.

what is he thinking?

your arms, which were peacefully resting alongside your body, sprung upwards and landed right onto his chest. palms flat against his hot skin, you pushed mattheo with all your might, trying to regain some distance.

but he wouldn’t move.

“mattheo, what–”

he continued his journey, trailing lower, totally ignoring your baffled state. leaving your lips empty, he settled down right against your ear. and, with a low whisper, he corrected your previous sentence.

“i’m naked.”

oh.

your hands completely stilled on his chest. no. your entire body froze up, too stunned by the revelation. only your eyes widened in shock, eyebrows jumping upwards and curving into two crescent moons.

“no. nonononono. no.”

whether he was joking or not, you did not want to stay further and find out. mattheo was your roommate, for fuck’s sake, and even the fact that you were in bed with him was bad. but if he was indeed naked??

you had to get away fast.

pushing at his chest and twisting around, you managed to turn your back to mattheo and even sneak one of your legs outside the blanket.

mattheo might be strong, but he was still sleepy — if you act fast enough, you’d surely escape from his arm.

your plan was good, and with the way your second leg was flying away from the clutches of the blanket, you were sure it will succeed.

sadly, you did not take into consideration mattheo’s second arm.

his other arm dropped across your middle, gliding across your sides like a snake and securely gripping at your body. and slowly, any sort of progress you made dissipated, your body now dragged back in its initial place.

“why run, baby?”

he chuckled against your cheek, low and wrecked with sleep, sending a pulse of heat straight to your core.

“you wanted warmth, no?” his voice was full of arrogance, and you could feel the way his lips curled against your skin in a devious grin.

with both of his arms nicely wrapped around you, mattheo pulled you into him fully. your clothed back hit his chest, all warm and fuzzy, while your lower body made contact with his solid crotch.

something sheltered itself between your asscheeks, and by its twitchiness, it was definitely not his leg.

“i will make you warm all over.”

it was a mistake to tiptoe into his room. it was a mistake to steal his blanket.

it was a mistake to underestimate a sleeping mattheo.

now you were at his mercy.

“ah, matty…”

being engulfed by his warm body did make your hotter. suddenly, your long-sleeved pajamas were too much; the material was itchy and suffocating, making you pant and whine for your clothes to be discarded.

nonetheless, the raising in temperature was not solely due to the covers and mattheo’s body heat — it was also due to your own lustful desire stirring your insides, making you boil with need.

“yeah, baby?”

mattheo knew. he could feel your body quivering against him, he could feel your ass involuntarily pushing against his cock. he could feel the way your hands clutch at his, desperately guiding them underneath the hem of your blouse.

fuck, his sweet roommate needed him.

his hands slid upwards underneath your blouse, warm calloused palms gliding across your tummy all the way to your bare chest. his fingers touched around attentively, waiting for a positive cue from you.

and when a small needy whimper left your lips, he fully cupped your tits in his hands.

“shit, so soft.”

he groaned against your neck, voice all gravel yet honeyed, half-sweet, half-sinful. his lips peppered open-mouthed kisses across your skin, wetting every exposed patch in his wake. his digits, skillful and eager, pinched and pulled at your nipples, teasing them into stiff peaks.

your cute moans of pleasure only stirred him on, and with each and every squeeze of your tits came a snappy thrust of his shaft into your meaty ass.

“you getting warmer, baby?”

each word was punctuated by a short nibble of your skin, his teeth grazing at your neck, hard enough to pleasure, yet not enough to hurt.

he didn’t need an actual response, really; he could feel your body heat — now matching his own temperature — and he could also feel arousal bubbling inside you.

“y–yes.”

your answer was weak, drowned in breathy whines, too overwhelmed by mattheo and his restless attacks. his palms continued their ministration on your boobs, fondling them to his very whim, while his cock drilled faster and faster against your pajama pants, getting them all sticky and wet with precum.

the back of your pants were not the only ones drenched. your panties were long ruined, arousal pooling into them wave after wave from the moment mattheo pulled you underneath the covers.

at the beginning, you tried to resist temptation, but right now you were fully succumbing to lust, clenching your thighs together and pushing back into your roommate.

“m–more.”

you needed more. you needed to feel his hands touch all over your body, to ignite every inch of your skin.

to make you burn raw with desire.

your plea, oh so tiny and broken, made mattheo’s hips jut upwards into your ass faster. a plethora of curses escaped his wet lips as he slowly but surely realized how you had him wrapped around your finger.

your wandering hands reached his own underneath your shirt and, with delicate moves, you now guided them downwards to the hem of your pants.

and, to seal the deal and make mattheo complete putty, you threw the prettiest blown-out eyes at him, silently asking for him to go further.

“f–fuck, baby, i can’t resist you.” his voice cracked against your skin, as even saying the words cost him restraint.

his fingers fumbled at your waist, clumsily pushing the waistband of your pajamas down to your knees. when the pads of his digits encountered your panties, they were immediately hooked and dragged lower too, joining your pants.

“oh, baby, oh, baby, oh, babyyy.”

he started chanting the pet name like a mantra the moment his eyes got a hold of your glistering pussy, all warm and sticky, and so so inviting. and he gladly took the invitation, glossing his fingers between your folds and gathering your arousal, only to stick up his hand and admire the web-like formation of precum.

“so fucking wet, d–damn.”

he breathed it like a prayer, forehead dropping against your shoulder for a moment, so aroused by the reactions of your body. but he had no time to soak into the feeling as he felt your plush, naked ass press against his own bare cock, so impatient and needy.

“mattyyy.”

your mind was foggy, clouded with the thought of immediate release. your hips shifting back into mattheo so deliciously was a clear bodily reaction, and he could see that as well.

as much as he wanted to thrust right into your sloppy hole and fuck you senseless, he couldn’t.

“c–can’t, baby. i don’t have a condom.”

it was difficult to hold back, it really was. to have his gorgeous roommate in his arms, half-naked and begging for dick — that was his ultimate fantasy. yet here he was, cock heavy and throbbing against your ass, refusing to fuck you without a condom.

“but matty–”

“safe sex is ah–… important, baby.”

fuck safe sex, you wanted to scream at him, the achiness between your legs growing stronger and stronger. but mattheo took you by surprise once again, repositioning his wandering hand back on your cunt and slowly circling his digits over your pulsing clit.

“but i will take care of you.”

the sensation was so powerful that your head was thrown back against his chest, a sharp moan elicited from your previously pouting lips. no longer pursed in dissatisfaction, your mouth hanged open, overflowing with whines and moans.

“it feels good, baby, hm?”

“yes, yes, yes, ahhh…”

your voice was high and ruined, hips rutting mindlessly against mattheo’s hand as he played with your swollen bud. his pace was sloppy and wavering, his concentration deterring because of his own needs. his cock, leaking with precum, was still chasing relief between your asscheeks.

but he too wanted more.

“got you all messy and wet…” he mumbled, ragged breath fanning on your skin. “yet i can’t even fuck you properly.”

the arm around your torso tightened, dragging you closer to his crotch. his ministration on your clit got rougher, now matching the desperate ruttings of his own hips.

he wanted so bad to move your leg to the side and just plunge in. he wanted so bad to twist you around and have you spread open across his bed, legs dangling off his shoulders as he restlessly pounds into you.

his cock continued to bully the fat of your behind, leaving a sticky shimmery trail all over it, as he keeps imagining the many ways he could have you if only he had a condom on him.

if only there was an alternative to–

there was.

“baby, let me fuck your pretty thighs.”

he rasped quickly, short of breath, proud of his genius idea. his fidgety hand immediately jumped on your thigh, fingers digging into the plush fat and making it jiggle slightly.

“they’re warm and soft… i will rub your clit, make you cum together with me.”

his other hand resumed its movement on your cunt, poking and prodding at your clit in an attempt to convince you to accept his offer.

“o–okay.”

you hiccupped, voce hazy and dripping with need. you slightly parted your thighs, inviting mattheo to insert his cock. and he wasted no time, thanking you for your cooperation and sliding between your thighs swiftly.

and when you closed them around his cock, squishing it nicely, he though his body ascended to heaven.

“my gooood girl.”

mattheo groaned low at the friction your soft skin provided, hugging his shaft tight and warm. then he moaned louder, his cock grazing past your drenched folds and your quivering hole. he almost gave up and changed the angle, pushing into your cunt, but he stilled himself and completed his thrust, his tip peeking out, red and dripping, on the other side.

“you’re amazing, fuck.”

and with that, mattheo started a stable rhythm of his hips, pulling and pushing against your thighs and using them like a cunt. he also kept his promise, rubbing your pretty little clit and giving you that well-deserved pleasure.

“mattyyy.”

his urgent and sharp thrust affected you as well. you were sobbing now, teetering on the edge, your whole body trembling from the pressure on your clit and the constant bullying of mattheo’s cock against your folds.

“i know, baby, me too.”

he only cooed at you, speeding up his thrusts between your thighs, fingers rubbing with more vigour against your clit.

but it wasn’t sufficient.

you needed more.

you needed him inside.

“matty– inside–… i need you inside.” you babbled between sobs, twisting your neck to gaze at him and enchant him a second time that night.

“r–raw, please, raw.”

his entire body shuddered at your plea, arms stiffening tightly against you. he resisted you the first time, but now? with his own release so close?

fuck.

he cursed viciously under his breath, his self-control on the verge of snapping completely.

“y–you sure? i w–won’t be able to stop.”

if you agree, he will conform. and he hoped you–

“please, matty. i need you.”

with a feral growl, mattheo shifted, guiding the fat head of his cock to your soaking entrance. and he pushed in without a second thought, the tip stretching you out deliciously, warmly welcomed by your hungry cunt.

both of you moaned — loud, primal, shameless.

he bottomed out in one long, shaking thrust, his hips drawn to yours like a magnet. your gummy walls latched onto him like a vice, sucking his cock and hardly letting it go.

“so fucking good, baby. fuckfuckfuckk.”

he pulled out only halfway before slamming back in, setting a brutal pace that had your thighs shaking. your hands were clawing at the sheets, hanging onto them for dear life.

you were close.

you were both so close.

he only had a few more thrusts in him — he could feel it building up in his gut, tightening unbearably.

“gonna fill you up, baby.”

mattheo groaned into your shoulder, hips jerking faster, harder. his fingers were also frantic against your clit, wishing to push you off the edge at the same time.

“please, want you in me.” you whimpered, arching into him, voice broken yet sweet.

his body trembled — a half-muttered call of your name managed to get out before his sturdy hands grabbed your hips, digging his fingers hard into your skin to keep you still.

you gasped together as he buried himself deep, cock splitting you open one last time before spurts of cum spilled inside you. your pussy fluttered around him like it wanted to seal in every last drop, joining his orgasm.

for a few moments, the world was just panting, sweaty skin, tangled limbs, and the slow, sticky drip of him leaking out of you.

mattheo didn’t pull out. he couldn’t.

he just wrapped himself around you tighter, peppering you with lazy kisses.

"warm enough now, baby?" he murmured against your skin, cocky even in his exhaustion.

you could only giggle weakly, shortly glancing at the blanket that started all this, half-hanging off the bed, forgotten.

"yeah, matty," you whispered, settling back into his embrace. "more than enough."

tags: @downbad4reid, @cafechichay, @lov3notts

[lay-z]

barbed-wire kisses | 1

Synopsis: Soap, the SAS and 141's most prized explosives detection hybrid and demolitions expert, gets a new handler.

Pairing: hybrid!John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x fem!handler!Reader Warnings/Info: 18+ | Soap is a purebred German Shepherd hybrid. Despite ears, tails, and their adopted nature/instincts/personalities, hybrids have human features. | enemies strangers to lovers; forbidden love; angst; hurt/comfort; heavy smut; eventual romance; canon-typical violence; military inaccuracies; dom/sub elements; forced submission; cussing; humour (Please mind the warnings for each chapter!)

Based on this idea 🩶

Big thanks to my bestie @bloodytalefeathers for helping me handling our boy Soap 🐶

It’s always a rather impersonal affair as a hybrid serving in the military–getting a new handler assigned and vice versa.

John sniffs you out, of course, before Captain Price even has the chance to properly introduce you. When the Sergeant is given your file along with the handlership documents on a random Wednesday in February–the ones you’ve already signed a few weeks prior–he gets one deep whiff of your musk still lingering on the paper and starts prowling the base on the lookout for his new target.

Despite the many familiar, surrounding scents among the different smells announcing the beginning of spring, it doesn’t take too long for a specimen like him to pick up on and find you on the large military base, letting the winds do most of the work for him.

He's just way too good at his job, and his little self-imposed challenge leaves his chest puffing with pride and the blood in his veins buzzing with an odd eagerness to meet you once he finally spots you among the large crowd of soldiers on the training grounds.

John decides to skip his lunchbreak and watch you instead. He takes a seat on a well-positioned bench with a good view of the field where you’re currently going through drills with a platoon that you’re serving as their temporary CO. His tail swishes lazily against the wooden planks of the bench, pushing off some dry leaves that gathered there.

He’s read about you, knows that you’ve just come back from a five-month overseas deployment in Al Mazrah–supporting their local forces with the training of the serving hybrids, among other duties.

John can see it in the tension you carry in your neck and shoulders, in the way you keep checking your surroundings while you give orders to your soldiers, and with the dark circles under your eyes–all of it speaks volumes of how well you’ve adjusted to living on base again so far, and, boy, does it look bad.

On top of that, you’ve just been transferred to Hereford from your previous base and task force–after getting your new orders while you were still deployed–so you must be twice as stressed and thrice as vexed about this whole new arrangement you’re finding yourself in right now, thanks to the brass. He also knows that you’ve already moved and settled into your new place close to the barracks. Close to where he lives, too.

Fucking brilliant, John thinks, and his large furry ears twitch as he grins wickedly. It’ll be more than easy to get rid of you if you’re already feeling this worn out; perhaps even easier than it went with the previous handlers he’s had since boot camp.

None of them ever made it past the six-month mark before they were transferred again due to their incompetence, though none of the higher-ups has ever admitted fault and called it what it is.

No, it’s always just been ‘Soap being a bloody handful’, slippery and clever as he simply happens to be, and yet the brass still keeps refusing him that exceptional permission which would finally grand him freedom–the freedom to operate without a handler on, and to a certain degree, off duty.

He is a canine hybrid, yes, and his nature might make him extraordinary, aye, but he’s not a fucking toddler in need of assistance and guidance 24/7. It’s bad enough that his rank as Sergeant can easily be outranked by a human subordinate simply because he happens to be a hybrid.

His thought process is disturbed by the crunching of boots on the gravelly road leading up to his makeshift recon spot, when a group of soldiers walks up the rolling hill to have a smoke break.

Scrunching up his sensitive nose at the stench of cigarettes despite being used to the smell, John gives up his seat for the group, straightening his shoulders with a curt nod at them before he makes his way back to HQ.

There’s a meeting he needs to prepare for after all.

A few hours later, the briefing room clears again when everyone claims to not have any questions left to simply get it over with.

“Right,” Price utters roughly. “I’ll leave you two to it then. Lieutenant,” he gives you a curt nod and John has to suppress a smirk when the Captain shoots him a glare as soon as his back is turned towards you. “Soap.” And John can hear the stern warning underlying Price’s voice before the latter leaves the briefing room and shuts the door behind him with finality and a raging ball of concern lodged in his guts.

And even though Price has left, and took his commanding aura right with him, the room feels even smaller and stuffy now with only you and John, standing across from each other like it’s a Mexican Standoff.

While John lets his eyes roam freely, assessing you thoroughly and searching for weaknesses, you simply keep your sharp eyes trained on his with a kind of effortlessness that is slowly making the fur on his tail bristle–up, up, up his spine until it tickles his neck and makes his ears twitch involuntarily.

Your hands are firmly clasped behind your back, your stance relaxed as your hip leans against the table behind you; keeping your whole front exposed and vulnerable while you’re oozing nonchalance and confidence with no trace left of all that tension and fatigue he’d noticed earlier when he was watching you train with your platoon.

You almost look… bored now that you’re finally alone with him, and John doesn’t quite know what to make of this reaction.

His thick brows furrow and he caves, despising the tense silence already. “Ye not gonna say nothin’, lass?”

Suddenly, your lips twitch into a humourless half-smile. “That’s still ‘Lieutenant’ to you, Sergeant,” you reply coolly. “We’re no friends yet.”

“Right,” he half-snorts, half-huffs in response. “Well, ‘am lookin’ forward ta workin’ with ye, ma’am.” If you’re just a wee bit clever, you could easily pick up on the sarcasm in his words, and judging by the way your eyebrow twitches, you can. His tail swishes proudly in response, and then John mirrors your stance; clasping his hands behind his back before rolling his broad shoulders and straightening up to his full height.

“Oh, are you now?” It’s a rhetorical question, and John finds the way you tilt your head to the side like a wee pup utterly adorable, along with the fact that he’s taller than you, forcing you to crane your neck if you want to maintain eye-contact with him despite the thick-soled combat boots you’re wearing.

“Well, in that case–” You bring your arms forward suddenly, clutching a black collar in your hand; brand new and personalized, the scent of its full-grain leather still fresh and thick in the air. His eyes zero in on your name and rank stitched into it, along with your emergency contact and military ID number. “May I?”

John’s tail stills, bright eyes widening imperceptibly as he stares at the collar and processes the implication behind your words. He doesn’t get collared like this, no; usually grabs the damn mandatory thing and puts it on himself to get it over with.

“Ye insistin’ to put it on me, la–Lieutenant?”

You simply stare up at him with those unimpressed, gorgeous eyes – eyes that have seen as much, perhaps even more, horrific crap he has in combat–and his heart starts jumping in his chest in return. “You tell me, Sergeant. You wanna be a difficult pup?”

He swallows hard, clenching his teeth and wrinkling his nose at the raw condescension in your voice. Aye, he wants to make this difficult, wants to get rid of you already and let everyone know that he doesn’t need a handler–doesn’t need you–and yet he can only shake his head slowly while you stand before him so confidently, triggering his natural urge to please, to submit to a leader.

None of your predecessors ever made him feel quite like–this–so effortlessly. They always tried to force it yet never succeeded.

Almost subconsciously, John steps forward, towering over you though you still don’t move a muscle before he leans down, bracing his palms on the table you’re leaning against, now practically bracketing you in. “Go ahead, then,” he hums roughly, lowering his gaze to hide the way his pupils are dilating while his skin begins to prickle at the sudden close proximity to you.

As you unclasp the collar to bring it up to his neck, he gets a real whiff of your scent and nearly groans; an all-natural concoction of female pheromones, sweat and skin hidden underneath a layer of artificial peach-scented body wash and deodorant. His mouth starts salivating and he gulps it down harshly, fingers twitching against the table as you fasten the collar around his neck.

“Atta boy,” you mutter and your warm breath puffs against his rapidly flushing skin, making his pulse jump in his neck. His dog ears twitch as he leans in closer until his nose nearly brushes against your shoulder and he exhales a shuddering breath as the collar finally wraps around his throat.

“Need it a wee bit tighter, ma’am,” he rumbles and his breath hitches as you oblige; he swallows thickly, barely able to, while the leather creaks and tightens, pressing against his Adam’s apple snugly. You fasten it with nimble fingers, leaving goosebumps in their wake and his pulse sky-rockets at once. “Aye… perfect,” he breathes, almost panting now, his voice strained while another tingle runs down his spine that has warmth pooling between his thighs, and his cock chuffing in his boxers with interest.

An unexpected chuckle makes his eyes flicker up to meet yours again. “I see how it is, Sergeant,” you muse, a hint of a smile playing on your lips that makes him smirk boyishly in return.

Then, your index finger hooks through the metal loop for his leash, and another gentle tug makes his heart flutter and his chest rumble with a playful growl.

“Well then, let’s get to fucking work, MacTavish.”

And it’s the firmness in your words or the pure determination twinkling in your eyes that leaves John’s tail wagging.

Perhaps both.

[xiaowhore]

equivalent exchange.

DRAFT. this fic is incomplete, as i've stated in this post. this has been sitting in the dungeon for a while, and i have no plans to finish them, but i posted these drafts to not let them go to waste. it is up to you if you still want to read them regardless of their incompletion :) i will be writing my original ideas for the fic at the end so you guys will have an idea of what the fic was supposed to be like.

premise. when ayato stumbles upon a drafted resignation letter on your desk, he doubles his efforts to show you the perquisites of staying by his side.

he doesn't want to lose a competent subordinate. that's all there is to it.

note. what's wrong with secretary kim au but it's definitely not the same because i stopped watching at episode 5 and have no idea what happened. anyways i think we were all expecting a ceo!ayato x secretary!reader fic at some point so here it is. (couldn't keep this gender neutral for plot reasons, so feminine pronouns were used.)

Kamisato Ayato considers himself a good boss.

Or as far as things go, he's a decent one. He treats his employees well, takes them to expensive restaurants for company dinners, and discourages overtime so they can head off early for the night. He doesn't care much for formalities, and he gets along with his colleagues fairly well. He's never heard anyone talk behind his back or complain about his attitude at work, and there aren't any rumors spreading about him (if he turns a blind eye to the conspiratorial gossip guessing his relationship status).

But he does have minor faults. Like showing a more mischievous side when work hours are over. Getting Thoma dead drunk during dinners because his half-conscious inebriated talking is a form of amusement, or riling up Itto in drinking games just because it's funny. Then he leaves Sara to clean up the mess for him, since Yae seems to enjoy the comedy sketch as thoroughly as he does and probably won't lift a finger to help even if he asked her to.

As his assistant, you're prone to falling victim to his shenanigans, silly stunts that coax out aggravated eye rolls and sighs of exasperation. Years of experience eventually shaped you up to be entirely immune to April Fools' pranks.

He's in the middle of planning another one when he spots a letter of resignation on your desk.

At first, he thinks it's your rebellious phase arriving a decade late. He always found it odd how you never retaliated against his tricks, and this may just be the long-awaited April Fools' prank of vengeance. If it is, it's particularly mean of you—Ayato does have feelings, you know? Even he would feel hurt if you told him you wanted to leave! You shouldn't take this kind of thing lightly!

Then he remembers you aren't the type to make jokes, April Fools' or otherwise, and it's that moment when he feels (proper) fear.

“[Name] wants to resign?!”

Ayato makes a zipping motion and Thoma's shrieks immediately die down, but the disbelief on his face has yet to wane. His brows scrunch together, brain hard at work in processing this piece of information, though it seems to short-circuit in utter confusion from the sudden blow.

Scandalized, Thoma lowers his head and levels his voice to a hushed whisper, “Are you sure you saw it correctly?”

“I have able eyes. Unfortunately, my optometrist confirmed my perfect vision and assured I saw it just fine.” Woe is he.

“Get them checked again.”

“No matter how much I check, it won't change the results, Thoma.”

“We don't know that for sure, sir!”

“Trust me,” Ayato deadpans, looking off into the distance, “I checked with him thrice.”

Defeated, Thoma leans back to his chair, crossing his arms while deep in thought. “You saw the letter, but she didn't turn it in, did she?”

“She didn't. No e-mail, either.” Ayato taps the table in a mindless rhythm, expression stern but the shape of his lips almost resembling a pout. “Do you have any idea why she'd want to resign?”

Thoma rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Is that a genuine question, sir?”

Ayato's head snaps back to look at his companion. “Why wouldn't it be?”

“...Everyone in the office knows you... tease her for your own amusement.”

“It's my way of showing affection.” The corners of his lips curl up, stretching to a twisted smile as he rests his cheek on his palm. “Isn't she just so adorable when she gets angry?”

“You really do have a rotten personality.”

Ayato waves his hand in a noncommittal response. “We're straying off topic. What should we do next?”

Thoma hums, closed fist beneath his chin. “Since she hasn't turned in the letter yet, that means she must be hesitating. For what reason, we don't know, but it's keeping her here. So before she makes up her mind, we should dissuade her from quitting no matter what.”

Ayato laces his fingers together, brow in an inquisitive arch. “And we do that by?”

Green eyes sparkle with tenacity, clashing with blue irises twinkling in intrigue. “We bribe her, sir. It's time to show off your good points.”

--

“If a woman quits her job, what do you think her reasons could be?”

Ayaka blinks owlishly at her brother, taken aback by the abrupt question. It's a sudden thing to ask, especially odd given how their conversation hasn't led to that topic at all. “Did someone resign? I haven't heard anything of the sort, though.”

Ayato shakes his head, stirring the boba tea in his hands. “It's a hypothetical.”

Which means it's real.

Ah, whatever. At least he didn't go for the “my friend...” excuse.

Ayaka warily cuts a portion of her cake, scrutinizing each microexpression flashing on Ayato's face. It's one of their weekly lunch meetings, squeezed between hectic schedules, and they more or less have a silent agreement to avoid discussions involving work if they could help it. But this time, he brought it up himself.

How peculiar.

“Perhaps she wants to change workplaces? If she's exemplary, she might have been offered a better position or higher pay.”

Ayato nearly scoffs at the suggestion. The company, old-fashioned as it is, can only be inherited by a direct line of descendants. Outsiders can only go so far, and being the secretary for the chief executive officer isn't bad at all. Last time he checked, he's been paying you generously as well—how many figures was it? Six?

“Oh!” Ayaka exclaims, holding up a finger as she seems to have figured out something. “Or maybe she wants to settle down and get married? If her work is keeping her occupied, she'll most likely take time off to find a husband.”

Ayato proceeds to choke on a tapioca pearl.

“Or she got married and wants to be a housewife-”

“That's quite enough, Ayaka.”

Ayato would rather believe the Earth is flat.

--

If Ayato were any less desperate, perhaps he would have rationalized that putting together “give her what she wants to make her stay” and “she wants to get married” is a bad, bad idea.

Unfortunately for him, he is grasping at straws, so it leaves him no choice. Yes. Definitely. There is no other option than this, obviously.

(He does not delve deeper into the reason why he doesn't want you to leave, nor does he dwell any longer on why he was so quick to think he was fine with getting married if it was to you.)

“Don’t you want to get married soon, Ms. [Surname]?”

To clarify, Ayato does not spy on other people's conversations for a hobby, but he's always had impeccable timing. It comes with the job.

He stands by the door, reaching for the doorknob to the break room, but the mention of your name forces him to a halt.

“Why are you asking me that...?” You awkwardly dodge the question, sipping on your coffee. “I suppose I am at that age, though.”

“So you do want to!” The squeal rings with a note of glee, a stark contrast to Ayato's gradually dimming mood. “Wouldn't it be nice to marry a good man? I'm sure even you have thought of it at some point! Are you seeing anyone, then? Anyone you can imagine yourself marrying?”

“No, not yet.”

Before Ayato can even heave a relieved sigh, you follow with, “But my mother is making me go on dates to see people. Said if I didn't bring home a man soon, she'd come all this way to drag me back by my ear and introduce me to her friend's son.”

“Ah, I get that...” Your friend replies emphatically, nodding. “But those kind of meetings hardly go well. And you can't exactly tell your mother's friend you don't find her son attractive, right?”

“Why not just marry Mr. Kamisato, then?” Another one pipes up, to which Ayato gives a mental salute of appreciation. “You spend most of your time together. If you're not married to your job, then you're practically married to him.”

A cackle sends his heart dropping to his stomach.

“Not a chance.”

Can you at least expound why?!

“Huh? Why not? I mean, Mr. Kamisato is on another realm of existence and I can never hope to be on the same level as him, but you look good together!”

Your face pinches to a tight frown. “Look good together? In what way?”

“When you stand side by side, it just looks... right. And like I've mentioned earlier, you spend all your time with him. Why not seal the deal?”

“Mr. Kamisato is reliable, and if you marry him, you're set for life. He's handsome too, and we've all seen his muscles at our company sports day a few months ago!”

“I've never been so thankful for team-building events. Hallelujah.”

Ayato's face burns in embarrassment hearing the dreamy sighs. Even if they think there isn't anyone else listening on them (which is false), shouldn't they exert some restraint at work?

“Please don't lust over my boss,” you assert sternly, voice ice cold. “And we have a strictly professional relationship. So don't get any weird ideas from here on out, alright?”

“Fine. Tell me that again when I'm invited at your wedding, I dare you.”

“I said-”

They wave off your vehement protests at the statement. “Then if you're not into Mr. Kamisato, what do you plan to do?”

Ayato perks up, straining his ears in rapt attention.

“...I'm going on a date this weekend,” you sigh, rubbing circles on your temples. “I'll let you know how it goes.”

Oh no.

--

“-Dinner was nice. We didn't expect the rain shower, but he ran to the convenience store across the street to buy an umbrella because he didn't want me to get wet on the way to the car. He said it would be a waste if my hair got ruined since I-”

Slurp.

“...Styled it for the occasion. Then he drove me home. I found out we liked the same band from the music he played, and we agreed to-”

Sluuurp.

“-Go to their upcoming concert together. Then we somehow also like the same novel that's getting a movie adaption soon, so we also promised to see it-”

Sluuuuuuuuuuuuuurp.

“Could you please refrain from making noise when eating, sir?”

Ayato decidedly does not comply and only slurps his boba tea harder, nearly choking on a tapioca pearl yet again.

As always, you learn to ignore him.

“Concert... and a movie. I'm not sure about the concert, but the film you're talking about is the one coming out in the next two months, right?” Thoma confirms, sweating when Ayato's expression turns visibly grim. “You plan to see him for that long...?”

“Even if dating doesn't work out, we can always become friends, can't we?” You shrug, taking a bite out of your sandwich. “He seems like a nice guy. We get along really well, considering we've only met once. I ended up agreeing to a second date-”

The passive-aggressive slurping persists for the following afternoon.

--

“I've been meaning to ask for a while,” Thoma treads carefully, noticing Ayato's rapid-fire typing—no, striking—on the keyboard, “Ms. [Surname] is good at her job, but you seem really... eager to make her stay, sir.”

Ayato's fingers halt in their movement, and he takes a second to flash his business smile. “Of course. She's a valuable asset, and I'd be foolish to let her go.”

“Yes, I'm well aware, but...” Thoma scratches his cheek, looking off to the side. “You didn't go to such lengths when your former assistants resigned from their post. Or, uh... you fired most of them.”

“Yes,” Ayato simply agrees, still smiling, “she's competent. You don't find anyone like her easily, so it's only natural I'd want her to stay.”

“What do you mean by 'anyone like her,' sir?”

Thoma is awfully talkative today. Ayato might need to feed him something spicy to shut him up.

“Ms. [Surname] is special.” The words smoothly leave his lips. “Does anyone else have the meetings and company events scheduled for the next month memorized? She's the only one I can count on for work matters.”

Thoma's shoulders slump. “Okay, let me get straight to the point. Do you-”

“Mr. Kamisato?”

Thoma nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, accompanied by the clack of your heels.

“What is it?” The cold smile on his face finally melts to something more genuine, softer around the edges and looking especially radiant. It's welcoming, like your arrival counts as a joyous occasion, and he is exponentially more attentive compared to the way he lent Thoma half his ear (the other preoccupied with a phone call, which he swiftly ends the moment you walk in).

“I came to deliver some files from Ms. Miko... did I interrupt something?” You gesture to Thoma standing idly by the side, dumbfounded from Ayato's inconceivable behavior.

“Not at all. Is there anything else?” Ayato accepts the documents, noticing your hesitance to leave.

“Ah, yes, I will be asking for time off tomorrow.”

That's... rare?

But it's not a hard request. Ayato's own schedule is blank for the most part, since the latest project wrapped up not too long ago, and the workload is lighter than usual. Missing one work day won't do any harm.

“It's fine, but could I ask why?”

You fidget, tentative as you reply, “I was invited... for a trip on a cruise. He insisted I come since his friend bailed on him and the tickets would go to waste.”

The warmth in his eyes freezes over.

“The tickets would go to waste...” Ayato repeats under his breath, mockingly cruel. The tone flies past your head but it hits Thoma full-force, making him sweat profusely.

Distasteful. An utter disgrace of a man. The magnitude of his ignorance is so awe-inspiring, I have to applaud. I must give credit where it is due, and the foolishness of this clown is truly impressive. “The tickets will go to waste,” he says? His money must worth more to him than his dignity. Inviting Ms. [Surname] to a date on a workday with no regard for her schedule is one thing, but making her out to be an afterthought as a substitute for his original travel partner is another. How shameful. This is no way to treat a lady. If Ayaka were to be with a man of his caliber, I would never allow it.

But what he says outloud is of course, “I see. I hope you have fun, then.”

--

Corporate events are, for the most part, adequately entertaining.

Preparing for it is not.

But the worst part isn't even brainstorming themes, or finding an appropriate venue, or planning the logistics, or writing the guest list.

It's choosing what to wear.

Actually, the cause for Ayato's headache isn't even what attire he'll go with. It's yours.

“That looks wonderful,” Yae praises, looking at the picture on your phone. It displays a silver necklace, a tear drop topaz encased in a diamond twist. It pairs well with the dress you bought with Ayaka last week, an elegant fit that accentuated your curves.

However.

“He chose that for you, didn't he?”

The stoic line of Ayato's mouth twitches and his eyes can't help but sweep over your screen, scrutinizing each grainy pixel.

Though he has plenty of insults prepared at his arsenal, he can't find anything to nitpick about. Damn it. It's a good choice.

“You'll look stunning,” Kokomi assures good-naturedly, smiling in delight. Ayato does not doubt that will be the case, but he's sure he would be in a foul mood the entire night if he were to see you adorning it.

He has already retrieved his coffee from the break room so he excuses himself to his office, long strides that lead him out of earshot.

As a result, he doesn't hear the following conversation.

“Why this, though?” Kokomi asks, looking closely at the accessory. “It's a simple design. Doesn't look like something a man would pick from the rest.”

You shake your head. “I just told him I wanted something blue, and I couldn't choose myself because there were too many that caught my eye...”

“Blue?” She echoes, a simple curiosity. “Why blue?”

“...It's a pretty color.”

--

It is an actual coincidence that Ayato runs into you in the middle of shopping.

You're hunched over a display stand showcasing a variety of earrings, deep in thought as you observe each one. You're doing that thing where you scrunch your nose in concentration, a habit Ayato doesn't think you even realize you have.

“Fancy meeting you here, Ms. [Surname].”

(He wonders what face you would've made if he said “You go here often?” instead. Probably some degree of disgust.)

You blink, correcting your posture and nodding in greeting. You don't look particularly thrilled to see him, but at least you're unbothered by the prospect of seeing your boss on a free day. “You're here to shop too, Mr. Kamisato?”

Ayato smiles amicably. “I am. Were you planning to buy earrings?”

“Yes, but...” Your gaze returns to the display, your own smile faltering. “It is a bit difficult to choose.”

He walks over, scanning the variety up and down. “Is it really? You only need to choose a pair that matches your necklace, right?” He focuses on shades of silver, bypassing the vibrant colors of reds and pinks. Not even fifteen seconds later, he picks out a card and holds it out next to your ear. “This one looks nice on you.”

“Huh? Really?” Perhaps surprised by his swiftness, it takes you a moment to react accordingly. You take the card from his hands and flip it over, eyes widening by a fraction. “Oh. It is rather pretty.” Then they widen further as big as saucers. “I can't say the same for the price tag, though.”

“Hm? What price tag?”

He plucks the earrings from your hands, walks to the counter, and pays for it without a second thought.

“M-Mr. Kamisato?”

“Pull up your hair.”

“Eh? Oh, okay.”

You're so caught off guard that you unwittingly do as he says, tucking your hair back obediently and still processing the last two minutes.

His fingers tug at your ear, warmth bleeding to your skin, and by the time you return to reality, he's already putting the earrings on you.

STORY FLOW.

ok i lied i actually can't remember shit about this fic so i will be making up stuff as i go lol

what i do remember clearly is that the resignation notice that ayato found on your desk is years old. you meant to submit it way, way back when ayato was tougher on you, and you weren't as well-adjusted as you are now to the job yet. as stated in the fic, being ayato's secretary is no easy task—he'd fired countless people he thought was incompetent.

you fought a number of times, and you didn't know if you could keep up working for a man you thought was simply incompatible with you (in terms of being colleagues/partners).

but over time, you learned to work together. ayato acknowledged your efforts and hard work, and you knew ayato had been trying to give you less jobs to reduce your workload, but you were going to prove that hou could handle it.

what truly made you appreciate ayato more was when you got stranded at the train station. you dealt with a far company they collaborated with, but work ended later than expected, and you'd missed the last train home. taxis were an option, but youd have to go through several of them to get back. right when you were thinking of checking into a hotel, ayato informed you he was already on his way and drove a couple of hours to get where you were to bring you home.

time continued to pass, and that brings us back to the present. you were on the process of cleaning up your desk and left the old resignation notice out in the open by accident, which led to ayato seeing it.

it is very apparent to the others that you two like each other, but the involved parties themselves are unaware of it. you currently aren't eager to get married, but you were trying to meet people so your parents would stop bugging you about still being single.

anyway, ayato bought those earrings for you. timeskip to the corporate event. you unconsciously picked a blue motif for your outfit because it reminds you of ayato.

when you get there, surprise, surprise. the man you were meeting, kazuha is a bigwig, heir to some other corporation. he actually owned that cruise he invited you to and pretended he didn't because you might be intimidated. ayato didn't think the kazuha he knew and the kazuha you knew were the same person, and now the advantage he had over him was ruled out (i.e being rich). (actually while i was rereading i was surprised i didn't mention that it was kazuha...? istg i was imagining him the whole time i wrote about him)

anyhow, as it became later in the night, ayato wanted to get you home before kazuha could offer to drive you back or worse, spend the night with him. ayato acted drunk so you'd tend to him and accompany him home while his driver was in charge of taking you to his apartment. as you were nagging at him, he compared your interactions with him to yours and kazuha's. you were certainly nicer to that man. smiled at him a lot more, too. did you really like him that much?

if you did, could he let you go?

he was ashamed that he couldn't answer it right away. as if he had any right to whatever you do.

you carried him to bed when you got to his apartment, but when you were preparing to leave, he hugged you from behind. do you like that man? why do you want to leave me? why can't it be me? ayato was just pretending to be drunk, but he felt dizzy now, soaked in your scent. he said things that he wasn't supposed to. things that he couldn't take back. things that would change your relationship forever.

slowly, you took away the hands wrapped around your waist. ayato figured that was a message of rejection.

but then you pushed him back down on the bed and you straddled his lap. his mind was silent for but a few seconds before he started screaming mentally.

i've always wanted you, but i knew it was impossible. you have a fiancee. i'm an ordinary worker. your family won't accept me. ayato's mind was in a daze because your face was so close to his, and all he could see was the red, glossy shade on your lips, but he managed to hear those few sentences.

it doesn't matter. nothing else matters. i can't marry if it's not you. if you accept me, i swear i'll make you happy.

from here on, it could be a happy, fluffy ending where turns out, you were tipsy so you were more honest with him and you fell asleep in the middle of kissing so he took it upon himself to change your dress into something more comfortable and end the night with a forehead kiss...

...or you could continue what you were doing and the first thing ayato takes off is the damned necklace so he could replace it with a smattering of hickeys. your choice ^^

[diejager]

Hi! In your Only Human AU what would happen if TF 141 + König and Horangi go into a something like a “rut”? Or is that possible in this universe? If it is would they ask Y/N for help? If possible can it be in the form of a Drabble🥺?

Rut Cw: rut/heat cycles, mention of sex, possessive behaviour, obsessiveness, mention of knotting, implied smut, tell me if I missed any.

Ruts were odd phenomenons, it reduced hybrids and monsters to desperate and horny men, clinging onto the person they considered their mate for relief and pleasure. Some hybrids had ruts, like canid and felid shifters or shifters in general, a monthly cycle that incapacitated them. Others were luckier, having a few ruts per year, sometimes once every few month or once a year; these could range from a dragon to a harpie or from a percht to a gorgon. There, however, were some exceptions, spectral beings and the undead were without ruts, their body long dead and able to function without it, yet they could impregnate and be impregnated as any other hybrid and monster could. They suffered from bouts of occasional arousal, little flares of pleasure when faced with a situation that turned them on or by strong emotions towards someone or something.

You were unfortunately enough to be thrown into a group of rutting hybrids - with the sole exception of Ghost - unprepared and without a forewarning on how to deal with them. You had to deal with a clingy werewolf, howling at the moon and whining in utter heartbreak because you told him off for humping your leg in the rec room, huffing and gasping down your neck. A hissing and possessive tiger, stalking you down the halls and jumping you whenever you were alone to ravage you against the wall, mouthing and nipping at your neck, making sure his scent would stick over the wolf and nagual musk. And a protective nagual, looming over you like a shadow, arm slung around your shoulder and ready to start a fight with the other shifters if they tried masking his scent.

Luckily, their ruts never overlapped, it might’ve been a fortunate coincidence, but one that you wouldn’t take for granted. You had a schedule drawn up in the first year after they accepted you into their pack, Soap’s was always after the full moon, the silver disk being the catalyst to his urge; Horangi had his in the later days of each month, oftentimes beginning on the last day of the werewolf’s rut; and Alejandro took the first week of the month, starting slowly on the third or fourth day and ramping up on the following day.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t put in consideration for the others. Price, Gaz and König also had their moments in the yearly cycle, falling victim to the throes of instinctual need. You thanked your lucky star that Gaz rutted once or twice a year - thrice on rare accounts - with little to no change in his character. He might’ve been more hands, wanting to keep a hand around your waist, to give you soft and loving kisses on your lips as much as he did on your cheek, nose and forehead.

Price and König were a handful, one hoarded you to his office and had you follow him wherever he went, and the other was deathly possessive and deep into his instincts. König was on the extreme side of his type, breaking out nearly six to seven times a year, stuck mid shift with broader shoulders, red eyes and a monstrous appearance, and he had half the mind to stay considerate to other. A danger stumbling on two feet. Price was the medium, a perfect balance with three or four ruts yearly and a the self control to let you go if the situation demanded it. Despite his self-control, he was still a dragon, controlling and possessive, ordering you to come straight back to him whether or not you were knotted to Soap or Rudy was balls deep inside of you.

Despite Rudolfo being considered a monster, he was simply a human with the ability to control cadejos, as vulnerable and as resilient as one. And being human meant that he got aroused, coaxing you into his room for the night and taking care of the heat brewing between your legs. Much like Rudy, Ghost retained his bodily function - human wise - and came back as a monster, but he was a stranger to ruts, scoffing at the neediness and vulnerability of one. That, however, never stopped him from indulging in his sexual kinks and dark fetishes, having you as the subject of his exploration if no one else hit their cycles.

They were a handful, from Soap’s mutt-like character to Rudy’s calm demeanour, they had you exhausted, wringing you dry and panting, always ending up face down or backed against the wall. You were grateful - truly - that the others would willingly jump in and take over for you, helping whoever it was spend his rut. Now, you’d have to redraw your calendar, tired and clinging to your bed to stand up.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @virginalsacrifice @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo

[shuenkio]

Secret Secret — ࣪𖤐 승민 .ᐟ

۫ ꣑ৎ Synopsis: They say, as a gay, never fall for the straight guy who’s affectionate and kind. But what happens when the straight guy finds himself falling for you instead?

۫ ꣑ৎ Paring: Seungmin x m!reader

۫ ꣑ৎ Genre: Fluff. ۫ ꣑ৎ Cw: none.

۫ ꣑ৎ non proof read ۫ ꣑ৎ Eng is not my 1st

۫ ꣑ৎ This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

"Here!" He grabs your palm, place a chocolate bar all of the sudden. Causing you to furrow your brows, bewildered the scene.

"But what for?" You asked, still not recognizing his intentions yet. Today was Valentine's day, where everyone gave gifts or received them, and also the day of confessing their feelings to their loved ones you get it. But one thing that was odd was, Seungmin, the excellent and attractive employee in the company was the one who gave you, out all of the other girls, who had a big fat crush on him yet he chose you instead? Should you be happy or sad?

"idiot, it's Valentine day aigoo" the taller scoffed a heavy sigh before walk off, shove his hands back into his pocket act as if this never happened. You scratch the back of your head, unable to react to such a situation since never in your life receive gifts on Valentine's day.

"....what?" Once Seungmin is gone, all your co-workers beside you suddenly circling around like flies, some scream while some are even more excited than you. Who wouldn't when is THE Kim Seungmin, the nonchalantly blunted guy, out of the blue giving you a gift out of everyone, this should be displayed in the museum for real.

"Yaaaa M/N aren't you so lucky to get such gift??" Once say.

"UGH what did you do last live to live in my dream right now!!" Twice say.

"Gosh I better not hear you reject him, or Imma drowning you in this can" thrice say.

"reject? What reject, this is just a small gift right?" Keeping it low, there's no way he was y'know... Into guy? How is it possible if that was such an outright way to ask you out. Groaning was heard once you responded. Ever since you've been working here for god knows how long together with Seungmin, the latter will always find his way to take care of m/n secretly, giving rides home, act of service, helping m/n when he's struggling and gosh, there's so many. However, you don't think that kind of way, as a hopeless romantic guy from all the way childhood to this age now, you realized that you'll never find love since you're a homosexual. Never experience the high school love nor any kind of relationship ever. So when somebody is acting this way, you thought it was normal, isn't it?

"how dumb are you, Don't you notice how he acts when it comes to you ? You're the favoritesm" once say.

"true true, we get nothing during the new years eve but you got a fucking Rolex watch from him" twice say.

"m/n listen to us alright? If you're not certain about him, go ask him if it was worth the try, that man is not the straight forward one— we know how you feel when this happened but think Abt it, it has been a year now— but if you don't do anything, don't say we don't spare mercy, anything is possible just to make you say one word" thrice say.

Their advice lingers on your head. Face resting on your palm, pouting. Tskk it's actually a pretty serious thing for them and you tho, looking back to all the memories it sounds like you are his favorite indeed, as the time goes on it's far more than his favorite person.

"fine okay... I'll ask him this evening, I have dinner with him though" you stated, and focus on finishing your work. While your co-workers went back to their place with a happy grin spread across their face.

"kiss me~ don't say no—"

A sleek, jet-black luxury car rolled to a stop right outside the building, its polished body reflecting the dim lights in a way that made it look almost too perfect to be real. The engine gave a soft hum, like a low purr, almost too smooth to be true.

Then, the door opened—wide, welcoming. Like it was waiting for you.

For a second, you stood there, blinking. Was this really happening? This was getting a little too real, like something straight out of a movie.

You snapped out of it, stepping into the car with a mix of hesitation and something else—you weren’t entirely sure. The leather seat felt too soft, the smell of clean luxury wrapping around you. It was like you were in a different world, one where all of this was normal, and you weren’t still trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

You reached for the seatbelt, your fingers a little more unsteady than they should’ve been. As you finally settled in, you glanced at Seungmin.

His face was relaxed, eyes forward, fingers steady on the steering wheel—but there was that smirk at the corner of his mouth. That little smirk that made everything too damn real.

"All set?" he asked, his voice smooth and casual, like this wasn’t completely out of place.

Before you could even answer, the engine roared to life beneath you. The car glided forward, the world outside blurring as you were pulled deeper into whatever this was—whatever he was.

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at Seungmin, his eyes just flicking toward you for a second, that smirk still there, as if he knew exactly what was running through your mind.Yeah. You were definitely in trouble now.

( in third pov )

The soft hum of conversation filled the air as M/N and Seungmin stepped into the restaurant. The warm glow of fairy lights draped across the ceiling cast a golden hue over the Valentine’s-themed decor—roses in crystal vases, flickering candles, and a breathtaking view of the ocean stretching beyond the glass windows. The faint scent of saltwater mixed with the aroma of fresh pasta and wine. It was undeniably romantic. Too romantic.

M/N swallowed, eyes darting around. It wasn’t that he minded being here with Seungmin, but something about the atmosphere made his chest feel a little tight, his heart just a little too aware. And maybe—just maybe—it had to do with the nagging feeling creeping up on him lately.

Seungmin strolled up to the reception desk, hands in pockets, his usual composed demeanor unreadable. The receptionist, a cheerful woman with a clipboard, greeted them with a bright smile.

"Ah, welcome! Table for two? Are you a couple?"

M/N immediately parted his lips to say No, but before the word could form, Seungmin, ever so casual, nodded and replied, "Yes."

The receptionist beamed.

"Oh, wonderful! Happy Valentine’s Day! You’ll be getting our couple’s discount!"

M/N blinked, a sharp inhale catching in his throat. Excuse me?

Seungmin, on the other hand, remained perfectly unbothered, only lifting a brow at M/N as if to say, What? It’s a discount.

M/N’s mind spiraled in a dozen different directions. Was it just for the sake of the discount? Or was this something else? Something that confirmed that inkling feeling he’d been trying to ignore for weeks?

Still slightly dazed, he followed Seungmin to their table near the floor-to-ceiling window. The restaurant was nestled on a cliffside, giving them an uninterrupted view of the sea. The waves shimmered under the soft glow of the moon, the distant city lights twinkling against the horizon. It was the kind of place lovers would dine at, whispering sweet nothings over candlelit dinners.

And here M/N was, sitting across from Seungmin—Seungmin, who was all nonchalance, leaning back against the seat, sipping water like he hadn’t just thrown M/N’s entire world off its axis.

The meal went by in a blur, M/N hyper-aware of every brush of movement, every fleeting glance. Seungmin, of course, was the same as always, his aloof expression unreadable, his voice carrying that low, effortless ease. And M/N? M/N felt like he was malfunctioning internally.

Then, just as M/N thought he was in the clear, Seungmin casually slid something across the table.

A box. Wrapped neatly with a ribbon.

M/N stared at it. Then at Seungmin. Then back at the box.

"...What’s this?" His voice came out quieter than intended.

Seungmin tilted his head slightly. "A gift."

M/N hesitated. He could already feel the heat creeping up his neck, fingers trembling slightly as he tugged at the ribbon. The box opened with a soft click—inside, nestled in velvet, was a delicate silver bracelet. The charm attached to it was subtle, but M/N recognized the design instantly. It was something he had offhandedly admired months ago while window shopping—something he hadn’t even realized Seungmin had noticed.

M/N’s breath hitched.

His chest felt tight again, but for an entirely different reason.

"...Do you like it?" Seungmin asked, tone as indifferent as ever, but his eyes—those deep, steady eyes—held something softer. Something patient.

M/N swallowed hard, nodding, his voice refusing to work.

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. And maybe it was the dim lighting, maybe it was the leftover adrenaline from earlier, or maybe—just maybe—it was the fact that everything was finally making sense.

M/N clenched his fists under the table, gathering every ounce of courage he had.

"...Do you," he exhaled slowly, pulse hammering, "like me?"

Seungmin didn’t blink. Didn’t even hesitate.

He leaned back, exuding that same effortless calm, and said, "I thought that was obvious."

M/N’s heart stopped.

And just like that, everything he had been trying to ignore crashed over him like a tidal wave.

Seungmin watched as M/N sat there, frozen, his fingers twitching slightly against the table. His lips parted like he wanted to say something—anything—but nothing came out. His wide eyes, the way his breath hitched, the sheer disaster of emotions playing out on his face—Seungmin almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

With a sigh, Seungmin leaned back, arms crossing over his chest. "You know," he started, voice even, "I figured you’d be like this."

M/N finally blinked, snapping out of whatever internal meltdown he was going through. "...Like what?"

Seungmin tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Hopeless," he said bluntly. "A hopeless romantic who’s spent his whole life thinking love was something out of reach just because you’ve never had it before." He exhaled through his nose, tapping his fingers against the table. "And yeah, I knew you’d overthink this. But honestly? I don’t care."

M/N stiffened, his breath caught in his throat. "You—"

"I don’t care," Seungmin repeated, this time with a slow, deliberate shrug. "Because I already like you." His gaze was steady, unwavering. "And there’s nothing you can do about that."

M/N’s chest tightened.

Seungmin watched him, as if waiting, as if knowing exactly what was running through his mind. Then, with that same lazy, deadpan tone, he added, "So? What now? You gonna run away? Or are you finally gonna admit you like me back?"

M/N felt his heart lurch. He swallowed thickly, mind racing.

And then, finally, finally, he let out a breath and muttered, "...Fine." His voice was quiet, but firm. "Yes."

Seungmin smirked, like he had just won some long-awaited game. He lifted his glass, taking a sip of water, before setting it down with a soft clink.

"Yeah," he said, exhaling like this was nothing new. "Thought so."

M/N groaned, slumping against the table. He was so done for.

A/n: Guy guess what? I'm doing this experiment with Seungmin y'all!! I'm kicking my feet, giggling, & ate some wall while writing this 😋 my favorite so far— I'd love some comments, like really!!! Should I continue or whatever.

Funtalk: I can't help but to post this in advance, because valentines are 4 more days and I can't wait to see y'all reaction, so yeah...

[magnetokisser]

500 gigawatts of the power of God.

summary: you're the only one in this godforsaken family who isn't apart of the night crew that cleans up gotham every night. you didn't hate it, but you didn't like it either. that was until jason died. now, you had to learn how to cope, while simultaneously trying to warm up to your new brother– or jason's replacement.

pairing(s): all platonic/familial, mostly dick and jason

word count: 2.0k ish

warning(s): antidepressants are brought up like twice or thrice and its a bit obvious reader is very upset lol

authors note: heavy mouthwashing (game by CRITICAL REFLEX on steam) fixation rn, so yes, the title is from the game. go play it! this isn't really canon following, so sorry if it doesn't exactly follow the comics canon. I tend to jump around a bit, so sorry lol

objectively, living with bruce wayne seemed like one of the best things that could ever happen to well, anybody. he was rich, seemed kind, and provided a roof over your head. that’s all you needed, right? you needed to be grateful for everything he gave you— he took you in and put a roof over your head. that was what really mattered.

you were bruce wayne’s first kid. coming right before dick grayson- the soon to be boy wonder-you were the light of his life for a few years before the golden boy came along. you held no grudges against him since, well, he was basically older than you, and he doted over you all the time. he was the perfect ray of sunshine the dark walls of the wayne manor needed. as time passed, and the dynamic duo formed, attention shifted from you and more onto the crime ridden streets of gotham. you helped in the background sometimes, patching your brother and father up when alfred had his hands full and, before barbara gordon came around, told them where in gotham crime spiked the most. it was an odd dynamic at first, but you grew used to it. even if it wasn’t normal family bonding time, it was something. you enjoyed being around them anyway.

and then jason todd came along. upon being caught stealing the wheels of the batmobile, bruce took him in. he was apprehensive, a bit violent and a little too carefree. but the two of you clicked. he would come to you to escape from bruce, even though the old man knew where he would go every single time. dick grew to like him as well. gothamites loved the three of you, deeming you all the only things that could keep bruce wayne single. the three of you took this and ran, making sure to act like spoiled brats in front of him at galas. before jason came around, you were the peace bruce needed in life. now, you two got into trouble at every turn.

months passed, and bruce kept fighting crime with a robin as he had always done. dick had moved on to become nightwing— leader of the teen titans along with kori, aka star fire. it made you happy to see that your older brother was making a name for himself outside of the caped crusader, though you didn’t know if you were necessarily a fan of the spandex. while you weren’t in ‘the life’, it didn’t worry you any less when any of the boys got hurt, and it didn’t worry you any less when jason had snuck off one night, his robin suit missing. from what you knew, bruce and jason were on patrol a few nights ago when they got into an argument; after that, he was on a patrol ban. for a while now, jason was growing more agitated— more reckless. he wanted to bring things that batman didn’t agree with in the mix, like death and violence. of course, this caused a lot of arguments and disagreements, but at the end of the day, they were fine, right? they always bounced back. he was his son, after all. and while he had some.. unorthodox forms of raising his kids, he loved them. he just didn’t realize he never said it enough.

you didn’t know the exact timeline of how things went down that night, and you didn’t really want to. from what alfred told you, their argument from the night prior escalated to heights that they hadn’t really seen yet. in a blur of rage and revenge, he snuck out of the manor to find the joker and avenge his mother, not knowing she was the one who ratted him out. you didn’t want to know anything else after that, since you knew both of them had met their untimely ends. 

after that, it was like a hole formed in your heart and your world got a little bit dimmer. you had taken off the rose colored glasses, and faced the real brutality the life gave your family. 

the funeral was hard. only five people attended including yourself, those people being alfred, bruce, commissioner gordon and his daughter, barbara. they even had the audacity to bury him next to his mother. dick didn’t show up because he was off planet, and didn’t know jason died. he didn’t know for a month. when he did find out.. it was bad. days were filled with dick and bruce arguing, and he even managed to get you to stay with him in blüdhaven for a bit, which was well needed. but you knew, despite how much of an asshole bruce was being, he needed someone other than alfred right now. so, reluctantly, you returned to wayne manor. as for the media’s reaction to jason’s death, bruce said he died in a terrorist attack while searching for his mother in ethiopia— he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. a casualty of circumstance.

the first year was harder than you could have imagined. it got harder and harder to get up every morning. you always had to walk past his room on the way out of your own, and you slowly stopped responding to dick’s texts. alfred, finally deciding to intervene, managed to get you to see a doctor and got you put on anti depressants. it didn’t really help, but you were still alive. the urge to take your own life and join jason was still there, but the whispers weren’t as strong. sometimes you felt like alfred needed the help more. one day he had told you that the curtains had closed on their own, despite the windows being closed and the wind being nonexistent. you entertained the idea of jay watching over you all, and promised alfred you wouldn't tell your father. the old man needed to indulge in something every now and then, too. it secretly comforted you too.

despite your growing disdain for vigilantism, you ended up becoming the new batgirl. you weren’t nearly as smart or tech savvy as barbara gordon, but you could fight, and that was what mattered. you tried not to patrol with bruce as much, but when your patrol hours overlapped, you would notice him following you deep in the shadows sometimes. as overbearing as it felt, it comforted you to know that he was watching. you hoped he was proud of you to some extent.

jason’s death changed the trajectory of batman’s meaning and life. so when you became batgirl, he had a few.. choice words and a lot of rules, but sometimes alfred would help you sneak out without bruce knowing. one time, you even ran into dick while on patrol. to say he was shocked would be an understatement.

“so you decided to join the fight, huh?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the building you were sitting on. “yeah, i guess you could say that.” you murmured, looking down at the liveliness of gotham at night. it was silent for a few moments, and for once, the gotham night was silent. no screams, no gunshots, and no laughing. your older brother finally spoke up, a sigh falling from his lips as he glanced at you. “how have you been?” he asked, taking off his domino mask to actually look at you. you took off your cowl, letting the cool air hit your face as you looked up at the night sky. “alfred is making me pop pills now, and i wouldn’t be surprised if dad was watching us have this very conversation right now,” you sighed, looking over at dick, “i haven’t really been happy, but i don’t think anyone can really be happy in gotham.” 

dick laughed, looking down at the street below. “i don’t think i’ve ever heard anything more true.” he spoke, intertwining his fingers in lap. “you should come live with me. i know it doesn’t erase what happened, and it doesn’t change really anything at all, but i think a change of pace will be good for you. and don’t start with that ‘dad needs me’ bullshit. he barely pays attention to you as is.” he says, grumbling the last part under his breath. he had a point; bruce was either keeping up his billionaire playboy persona that was also the ceo of wayne enterprises or cleaning up the streets of gotham at night as batman. you let out an exhale, watching as your breath vaporized in the air. “i’ll think about it. is that good enough?” you offered, giving him a small, yet rare smile. he immediately grinned and wrapped his arm around you, his blue eyes lighting up ever so slightly. “that’s more than i thought i’d get!” he exclaimed, his laugh booming through the air.

four more years passed, and while you hadn’t moved on yet, you were getting better. that was before a boy named tim drake came waltzing into your life. at the ripe age of fourteen, he had saved batman and successfully been enlisted as the next robin. in your eyes, even though you’d never say it out loud, he was jason’s replacement. tim’s arrival brought emotions you had long buried rushing back, and it was then you finally decided to consider dick’s offer of moving in with him— either as his new ‘protege’ or as a titan. you started taking ‘medicine’ again, and slipped off one night after putting a note on alfred’s nightstand. 

there was nothing wrong with tim. he was smart and outgoing— he almost reminded you of your older brother when he became robin, and he had smarts that rivaled that of barbara’s when she was batgirl. hell, his first interaction with bruce was him telling him that he knew he was batman, you were batgirl, and that dick was nightwing. he also knew that jason todd was the previous robin before him. you had to give him credit; he didn’t want to be robin. he only wanted to help. but bruce was the one who pushed him to become robin, thus replacing his late son— if he even considered jason that at all. tim tried talking to you before you moved out, and even offered to leave because he thought he was the reason you were leaving. he was nice to talk to, but you really couldn’t help but feel like he was a painful reminder of what had came before him. you just couldn’t take it in the manor anymore. there were too many lingering memories.

moving in with dick helped a lot more than you thought it would, even though you’d never tell him that. you later found out that kori was the one who pushed him to push you into moving in with him. she wanted to help you heal, and form a sister relationship with you that she never got with her own. you appreciated her, and was happy she was around. when her and dick were doing titan business or off planet, you took care of haley. you continued being batgirl, and life was.. calm. you were as happy as you could get yourself to be for the moment, and you had people around you who loved you.

it was a quiet night. that was what you loved about blüdhaven over gotham— there were more quiet nights in weeks than there were in a year in gotham. dick and kori had been off grid for a bit, leaving tim to lead the titans for the time being. some new faces had appeared in wayne manor, like the appearance of bruce’s cousin kate and the rescue of cassandra from the league of shadows. other than the few international incidents that the justice league would cause, things were peaceful. you were currently sitting on one of the gargoyles gotham characteristically had. it was jason’s favorite, and it was where you went after his death. you weren’t a fan of going to his grave, since the last time, you had an epiphany. you had felt it. 500 gigawatts of the power of god. it was then you decided to shape up, and live for jason. 

just as you were starting to relax against the wall behind you, a voice sounded from above you. 

“my favorite gargoyle, huh?”

[silkenwinger]

odds of 141 falling in love with the experimentally engaged bartender in a small pub (think of the snack type of place in japan, so still a hostess who's paid to talk to them and be engaging)

gaz: like 60%. he's the most aware one that this is, indeed, a job for you. that doesn't mean he's completely clean from the odd thought or is not somewhat considering asking you out. he's so much better than the other patrons, after all, and c'mon bird, wouldn't you like a daily guard?

ghost: around 70%. i don't think he would actually go to places where the main focus of the night is conversation, at least alone. if he somehow happened to be there, i think he could fall for a very specific type of host, meaning: someone sarcastic and that doesn't take him as seriously as he'd like to appear.

soap: 100%. I think he'd actually lowkey fall for anyone who asked him to talk about himself but besides that, the combo of intimate talk and alcohol is just so powerful on soap. he might actually end up crying on your shoulder and asking you out at the same time. he can do it all!

price: CHRONIC regular at your place. has driven away other patrons with his manners at least thrice but makes it up by spending insane amounts of money on you, to the point where you've pondered asking him to cut it off. actually refers to you as his girlfriend to others, using the excuse that being single at his age is embarrassing. worse is, he knows he's being overbearing, but he also knows that you like money more than not feeling ashamed when he decisively behaves inappropriately as a customer.

[quitealotofsodapop]

The mixed version would be chaotic but also I can just see Thunder attaching himself to Wukong to finish his development, but not as an egg. Living shadow, he's not strong enough yet to leave Mama's side and so he lives in Wukong's shadow until he can form

Prev.

Omg YES!!!

Wukong finds the "shadows collapsed into newborns" twins first, but hears an odd, distressed cheeping when he tries digging around the Stone Palace for baby things.

He had thought Macaque left behind Two Shadows - one for his theatre supplies, and one for his weapons.

But it seems there was actually a Third - one he had posted outside of his and Wukong's shared nest. And Wukong had been accidentally neglecting this poor third shadow while feeding his dao/life energy to preserve it's siblings.

Wukong, without question, gathers the fading shadow clone into his arms - watching in stunned awe as the darkness bleeds into his own.

The chirping is louder now, coming from behind him.

When Wukong turns, he sees a silhouette of a baby monkey sitting in his shadow. The same shape as the two fully formed cubs on his back and chest.

It seems that where the older pair had "collapsed" into newborn monkeys, the third one needed more time and life energy to finish the job. So now Wukong has a miniature shadow clinging to him for most of S1 and maybe S2.

"Thunder" aka Pili, can't leave Wukong like Rumble (Zaoyin) and Savage (Baolie) can. They literally can't do much besides hug their Mama and absorb life energy until they finish growing. And even then it will be a great feat to convince Wukong's youngest triplet to leave his side!

Wukong likens the sensation to being hugged by a gust of air or piece of silk. The "feeding" process (probably looks like boob-feeding) is pretty draining though, so his magic is pretty depleted at the end of the day.

I'm also now imagining Thunder's big moment where they finally "breaks off" of their Mama's shadow - and everyone reacts like it's baby's first steps. Bonus if its during a big fight scene or capture.

Like when Wukong was webbed up to the Spider Mech with DBK.

Wukong & DBK: (*arguing*) Thunder: (*pops! out of shadow!*) Wukong & DBK: ( 0_0!) Wukong, gasps: "Oh!! My little thunderbolt! You managed to separate from my shadow!! I'm so proud!!" DBK, puzzled: "Wait, since when did you have a child hiding in your shadow?" Wukong: "EHhhh a couple of months, maybe a few years at least." DBK: "But the only person I recall to have such powers is the Macaque-" (*shocked pause*) "..did you and him have cubs!?" Wukong, blushing: "N-no! I just- I poured my dao into his shadow clones, and they sort of... turned into babies!" DBK: (*makes extreme "are you serious?" face*) Wukong: "...OK! That doesn't sound much better. But I couldn't just let his shadows fade away - they're like, the last scraps of him I had of him before..." DBK, sympathetic: "I understand, xiandi. But clearly you realised that by pouring your heavenly life energy into a vessel of dark created by your mate would combine into a whole creature?" Wukong, thinking: "Ohhhhh so that explains why it happened!" DBK: "YOU DIDN'T KNOW!?" Wukong: "I HAD MY HANDS FULL WITH TRIPLETS!" DBK: "IT HAPPENED THRICE!?!" Thunder, confused and scared: (*sad geckering noises*) Wukong, lowers voice: "Oh no, sweetie! I'm not mad at you! Mama is just really stuck right now and he's cranky. i just need to find a way to-" DBK: (*breaks through his and Wukong's bindings to comfort the scared baby*) Wukong, completely stunned as he hugs Thunder: "Thanks!?" DBK, pleased hum: "I'm a father too, you know."

[the-real-gmail]

It happened again???

Augh this is odd

[shoegazingmonad]

Hussie's commentary on page 2340 suggests that Bluh panels usually involve a person being exposed to something they'll grow a taste for later, giving the example of Kanaya drinking her lusus' blood as foreshadowing of her becoming a rainbow drinker. So far we've gotten two of these panels in HS2.

Tavvy, Vrissy and Vriska all share a bluh, which sucks because this could either mean whatever's being foreshadowed here applies to all of them or is a case-by-case situation. The combined '8luh,,' would imply it's all three, but I think it's worth discussing other options anyway.

The subject being applied here is suspiciously colourless water with Gamzee's corpse suddenly wrong-side up within the context of the panels before and after, graciously framed to look like the water is spewing from him rather than the sprinklers. Great start.

I shouldn't have to state the obvious here - this is just another one of homestuck's classic bukkake jokes. You could interpret this as them having toxic masculinity shoved down their throats since this is something worth gagging over, or it could indicate gender and / or sexuality changes later. Candy is very focused on cisheteronormativity, so it's possible that Tavros might end up dating a guy or that Vrissy might end up being a guy.

There's also the 'seeds as bombs' interpretation, which is an arguement applied to doc scratch's cueballs but I still think works fine here, as though the seed / bombs raining down on them is an omen of Jane activating her 'contigency plan'. Though right after this we get GC associating bombs with self-destruction / sabotage, so this could mean that they might adopt those tendencies in the future.

My first thought for the water interpretation involves Rose's new species; we know they're aquatic and that Vrissy is (likely) in contact with one of them, and that they seem to be romantically interested in her, so it could signal a developing relationship between the two. There's also connections between drowning and loss of control - the panel does make it look like that's what's happening here after all, which could make it another reference to how out-of-control everything has been getting in Candy recently.

You could also interpret the water as sweat, as though his very essence is rubbing off onto them perhaps in the same way that his aspect tends to rub off onto people. Or as milk - which in the search for a plausible explanation has reminded me that in Gamzee's 'redemption arc' rituals he uses milk in a way John' compares to baptism. It's as though Gamzee is washing their sins away - and all of a sudden the choice to depict 3 characters simultaneously makes sense to me; they're supposed to represent a trinity.

Baptising someone is defined as 'sprinkling or pouring water on the head, or by immersing in water either partially or completely, traditionally three times, once for each person of the Trinity.' Since Tavros, Vrissy and Vriska are all being baptised together at once rather than thrice per person, it's likely they're stand-ins for each trinity member. The order of 'Father, Son and Holy Spirit' commonly uttered during baptism could apply to the order they're in here, with Tavros as Father, Vrissy as Son and Vriska as the Holy Spirit... though as of now, I'm unsure as to how this applies to them at all.

There's the odd timing of this symbolic 'redemption', too. I'm not sure why they're being redeemed now, what for, or by who specifically but Gamzee forgiving them for killing him doesn't seem too unbelievable seeing as he'll probably just be back later.

Yiffy's has a few obvious topics, Jade's doting, embarrassment (what they state the situation to be), maternal love and vulnerability, - something they've shown to take issue with showing in front of others. There's the option that this somehow ties into the previous Bluh's themes of christianity, too.

So back to that for a moment; there's a noticeably devilish aspect to Yiffy's design with the dog ears looking like horns, the general sharpness and the red. I guess you could propose them as an 'antichrist' because of that but it wouldn't fit much with the panel itself, so it's unlikely that it's got much to do with the previous bluh.

Anyway, easiest suggestions for what it means would be that Yiffy'll come to appreciate Jade's affections later, or get over their insecurities regarding vulnerability / public embarassment. There's the narration to go off of too, as Yiffy's described as 'an unconscious patient in the clutches of their sadistic nurse' with the 'nursing' being the relentless kissing. This brings to mind corpse smooching, which frames Yiffy as a possible substitute for Dave?

Jade does say herself that Yiffy exists because she needs her to, and I'm sure that extends to Yiffy as someone she can genuinely love and care for in a way she doesn't seem to be able to with Dave considering how awkward their relationship is in the epilogues (and also the fact that they were somehow so distant that Dave never even learnt Yiffy existed). Perhaps when Jade finds someone else she can love unconditionally and wholly without complaint, Yiffy will miss the attention Jade gave them?

Or maybe I'm going the wrong direction with the corpse smooching arguement, and Yiffy's annoyed that Jade is trying to kiss the life back into them after their scuffle with Jane? I'm a little less sure of a deeper meaning for this one.

[c4ttheart]

regina george, megumi fushiguro x gn!reader

reader is kinda mean. megumi is dumbfounded. not proofread i dont like this x 0.7k wc

you would’ve been the perfect fit for regina George in mean girls, at least in megumi’s opinion. unfortunately, he had become quite familiar with the movie, seeing as how you and yuji both had it in your favourites on letterbox. nobara liked it too, but she claimed it wasn’t cinematic enough to be put on display on her profile. so when megumi made the mistake of asking the pink haired what ‘mean girls’ was about, yuji had made all of them, as a group, watch said movie thrice. you were all rejoiced, except for megumi. then again, megumi was hardly ever happy. one time, you had even tried to tape his mouth into a smile, much to his dismay.

megumi thought that since you couldn’t play regina George, the universe had given you a strikingly similar sense of humour, the same mean genes the blond possessed. but if someone had told him that about an hour before, he would’ve shrugged it off. you were skeptical and a tease, but you weren’t mean.

in fact, megumi thought you were sweet when you accepted his study date at the library, toothy smile and all. sure, you weren’t aware of the fact that it was a date, because megumi did not have enough courage to inform you of that small fact, so when you asked him why it was just the two of you, yuji and nobara happened to be coincendentally busy. but you didn’t mind. you had said it was better anyways. he didn’t really know what that meant, but it definitely got his pulse elevated.

he thought you were caring and studious when you pulled out all your textbooks to study for upcoming exams. he thought you were diligent when you started furiously writing in your notebook. he thought you were odd, though, when you plopped your phone in front of you and started recording yourself. he didn’t judge though, he knew people had different ways of studying. that changed when he heard gojo’s voice through the phone and realised you were on facetime with him. he grimaced, though his eyesight glued itself back to his book almost immediately. when you coughed to get his attention, he knew he couldn’t keep on hiding his discontentment, and forced himself to look at you.

you smiled at him, all sweet and innocent, and said « megumi, would you like to hear my gojo disstrack ? »

his mind blanked. what the hell was he supposed to answer ? what type of answer would make him look cool or appealing or whatever ? luckily, he didn’t need to voice his answer for gojo’s booming voice cut through his train of thought, throwing various forms of displeasure at you. but you just smiled again and muted him, and grabbed your notebook again. megumi furrowed his brows. this was what you were up to all this time ?

you opened your mouth and began rapping. megumi was stunned yet conflicted, he wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to laugh or cry or clap. maybe a mix of all three.

a chuckle involuntarily escaped his lips when you rapped « all you eat is grease, bitch this class ain’t maccie d’s ! » and you smiled at him, so full of pride that he couldn’t help but feel his cheeks warm up.

when you were finally done, you unmuted gojo and he was quick to give you feedback. « i’m gonna f word you next week !» he shrieked, and you were quick to display your emotions on your sleeve, giggling away at his incredulous expression.

« that sounds really weird coming from a teacher. don’t forget that i can do the same ! » you retorted, and gojo was quick to reply « you can’t fail me, i’m grading your papers. » with a smug grin megumi could hear through the phone.

« no, i’m gonna get you fired. » you argued, and gojo’s expression probably dropped, because you added « stop making that face or you’ll get more wrinkles on your forehead than on your divorce papers. »

and somehow, megumi conflicted emotions turned to an impulsive urge to kiss you, applaud you or dedicating a shrine to you. that’s probably when he realised you couldn’t be regina george because that blonde would never even live up to you.

based off the disstrack i wrote for my math teacher LMFAO

i wrote this like a month ago but i got too shy to post it (i still hate it though but im running out of stuff to post)

anyway yzah hope u enjoyed mwa

[procyonloser]

Alastor hadn't actually wanted to become a doctor, he'd wanted to be a radio host, but supposedly that wasn't a viable interest past the year 1995 - and he flat out refused to become a... podcaster. So, he'd gone into medicine.

Alastor was also a cannibal, who had a habit of eating his patients, but this particular story wasn't exactly about him. No, it all revolved around an odd case in his clinic. Mimzy, an RN with a drug habit and a loan shark problem that was also not the star of the story, walked into his office with a look. Which meant his interest was about to be piqued.

"I've got a weird one," Mimzy said, holding up a file. Alastor pushed away from his desk, rolling smoothly over to her.

"Do tell, my dear!"

"Guy comes into the clinic in a panic, insisting something is wrong with him. The med tech brings him into triage, and his vitals are mostly normal, slightly high BP, but he's a big guy. So, they ask what the problem is, right?" Mimzy said, hopping up to sit down on the exam table. "You'll never guess what he said was wrong with him."

"You also know how I very much hate to play guessing games!" Alastor grinned tightly.

"He said his dick vanished, and he grew a vagina." Mimzy answered happily, and Alastor raised an eyebrow. "I know what you're thinking, but no, blood test showed no drugs in his system, and he had no history of brain injuries or psychiatric problems."

"So, was he right?" Alastor asked, and Mimzy nodded.

"I did the physical examination myself, he was indeed sans penis and testes. So, I start to look at his medical record. All I could find said that he was assigned male at birth, all his records had his sex down as a male. But, obviously our cataloging system is a nightmare. So, I looked into the doctors he had gone to previously. You know the last time he saw any doctor? It was 2 years ago. Guess why." Mimzy purred.

"No!" Alastor beamed.

"It wouldn't hurt you to play along sometime, Alastor. Fine - he went to get snipped. I contacted the doctor that did the vasectomy even, and had confirmation he'd seen the guy." Mimzy explained, with a small pout. Alastor ignored her and hummed, wondering if in the years since, if he'd somehow gotten bottom surgery possibly outside of the country, to explain the gap in medical data.

"I think I'd like to meet with him," Alastor said slowly, and Mimzy jumped down.

"Good, because he's waiting in exam room 7."

Alastor entered the room with a smile, his people loved his smile, but the patient looked up at him and grimaced. He didn't look like how Alastor expected, though he wasn't sure what he had expected at all. Adam Yeshvan was tall, taller than Alastor, and about thrice as wide, with stubble that was longest on his chin. His skin tone was medium, his hair was medium brown, and his eyes were a light brown. Apart from his height, he was a generally nondescript American man.

"I'm not crazy," Adam said. It was the first thing he said.

"I don't think you're crazy," Alastor said smoothly, sitting down in a seat across from Adam, who seemed to be fuming on the exam room table. "I'm curious why you think this may have happened, however."

"I..." Adam opened and closed his mouth, glancing to the side. "I don't know, but I feel like you won't believe me if I tell you what happened."

"Try me." Alastor smiled wryly. There were ever so many unbelievable things in life, like the fact his lunch in the hospital staff refrigerator was people.

"...I... accidentally summoned the devil." Adam said lowly, looking cautious. "I was on vacation, back in my grandpa's home country. I found some ruins, and there was some shit written on this stone. It had this little figure on it, wrapped in chains, so I took it to the local museum and they said the script was written in an archaic Hebrew. Look, I know it sounds stupid, you don't have to look at me like that- so, whatever, I took it home, looked up a translation and..." Adam waved a hand at his groin. "Next thing I know, this."

Alastor blinked slowly, trying to process the sheer amount of nonsense. He wasn't one for fairy tales, fiction, or generally make believe silliness. Of course, life could often be strange, Alastor had recently eaten his second grade teacher, but well within a degree of logic and reality. Adam might not have been on drugs, but Alastor figured he probably should be on something. He must have gotten bottom surgery while out of the country, and for whatever reason, was having problems remembering it.

"Well, let's do our best to figure out how to go about this, and how to get you some peace of mind." Alastor said smoothly, moving past all the nonsense Adam had said. "I'd like to run a few more blood panels, just to be safe, and have you talk to a specialist that-"

In that moment, Mimzy threw the door open and handed Alastor a page of test results.

Adam made a face at the interruption, "are those mine? Am I okay?"

Alastor read the page once, twice, thrice, and again and more.

Well.

That's new.

"You're pregnant."

[fuyine]

Prompt: When you are sick || Gosho Boys

warnings!!! excessive fluff, characters are highschoolers, endearments, and there are grammatical errors ahead. Please read with a grain of salt.

Pairings: kudo shinichi, hakuba saguru, hattori heiji, kuroba kaito x gn!reader (separately)

The moment you stepped foot in Poirot for a coffee day out with him—which happens once in a blue moon—he could tell right away that you were not in the condition to go out today.

From your choice of shoes to your odd color combination of clothes and your pallid face, drained of color and making you appear almost ghostly, he noticed. Adding to his concern was the way you walked: a sluggish, unsteady gait, as if each step was a monumental effort.

When you sat down across from him, before you could even greet him, he beat you to it.

"Change of plans. Let's head to my place and watch a movie instead."

At the Kudo mansion, he had both of you surrounded by blankets. He made sure to make up for your coffee date by having this movie marathon. With a fever patch on your forehead, he made sure to keep you hydrated from time to time.

Although you weren't burning up too much, he was cautious and insisted you stay on the couch while he got what you needed. He would spare some time for tales of Sherlock and watch the movie in peace with you in his arms.

At some point, his mom visited. Learning that you were sick, Yukiko spoiled you with her cooking and scolded Shinichi for not realizing that you were sick sooner before your date.

You sweat-dropped as you watched Shinichi getting scolded in the kitchen, he then walked back towards you with a cup of tea and placed it on the table.

"Mom made that. She says it'll help you feel a bit relaxed," he said, sitting down next to you and watching you curl up with a smile.

"Your mom is the best."

He let out a soft hum in agreement. "She is. Now drink up," he said, subtly checking your temperature by tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertip brushing softly against your forehead.

He was glad you weren't burning up as much as before.

Guess who would ditch their flight to London and come back to you?

Hakuba Saguru. The man of time.

When he received your call—where you were intending to check if he had arrived safely at the airport and apologized for not being able to accompany him—he heard you sneeze and cough multiple times, and concluded you were sick.

Reassuring him that you only missed a couple of classes and would get back to it with no worries worried him. The content of the call was less about him and more about you.

After ending the call to take a nap, you woke up nearly eight in the evening. Realizing you had missed dinner, you heard the door of your bedroom suddenly open.

There he was, walking through the door and toward the bed, in his white button-up blouse with its sleeves rolled up to his elbow, holding a tray of porridge.

Blinking not twice but thrice, you thought you were hallucinating that he was here.

"You're awake," he smiled at you and placed the tray on the nightstand before sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching to touch your forehead. "Mhm, you're not burning up anymore," he said, to which your eyes went wide as saucers as the realization hit you.

"Saguru?!" He's supposed to be in London by now, solving a case! you thought to yourself.

"Yes, my love?" he replied smoothly before cupping your right cheek, as if ditching the case wasn't a big deal to him. "You're supposed to be in London, why—"

"What do you mean?" he quickly intervened. "I can catch my flight again once you're better. I can't leave knowing you're bedridden, sick, dying, with no one to take care of you," he exaggerated.

Your lips formed a small pout, insisting that you were perfectly capable on your own, but he dismissed it with a chuckle.

"I insist on staying," he said, leaving no room for argument.

With that, the room felt a little livelier with his presence, tending to your weak condition with hot porridge and whispers of sweet nothings, reassuring you.

"My love, no time is wasted when it comes to you."

This guy… would take care of you with little snide comments, "How are you going to catch me, Kid, in that condition now, hmm?" He cutely pops out a rose and places it in the vase on your nightstand.

He visited you after school and has been doing so for the past three days of your absence. He would hand over Aoko's notes to you, which he borrowed since he knew you would just complain about his handwriting if he gave you his.

But it isn't about the handwriting; it's the thought that counts.

"You've been making origami? How is that going to catch— Oh, I see, they're cute," he hummed, throwing a ball into the air as he leaned against a table.

"Do you still have medicine? Do you want me to run down to the pharmacy for you?"

This guy is always attentive when it comes to taking care of you, with a few flirty comments here and there, no doubt. But you wouldn't complain about his company at all.

He would often lift the mood by showing you his magic tricks and would boast, "I am better than Kid," although he's Kid himself.

"Seriously, Kaito, you're making a clown of yourself at this point."

"Hah? No way! I'm taking care of you with my special performance. You should be grateful!"

Just like Kaito, he would deliver his notes straight to you right after school. His notes. He's a detective; surely his handwriting isn't as bad as the thief's.

He would accompany you, making sure you weren't gloomed up in your room, and would take you outside to the balcony for a little sun.

He would swing his kendo sword, letting you watch some of his moves. On other days, he would cuddle up with you and watch a police detective documentary in your living room.

At night, his mom visited you with dinner-packed boxes. They were warmly wrapped and really healthy for a sick person. She was also skilled in kendo and would gossip about Heiji from when he used to train and share funny moments from his childhood.

One of those moments was when Heiji slipped on the wooden floorboard when he swung his sword too fast, and his body didn't follow.

Heiji's brow would twitch, and he would say, "They don't need to know about that, old hag."

After some time, when you felt a little better, he would promise to take you to the ramen shop he had invited you to before you got sick.

He knew Osaka like the back of his hand; he would take you anywhere, just name the place.