#listen okay so this au is one instance of what happens

[tathrin]

So I've been thinking about Glorfindel's horse recently, okay? (I'm listening to these delightful audio books, and just got to Rivendell.) And I am as ever caught by the inconsistency of Asfaloth's tack with Legolas's later "lol what's a saddle? get rid of that shit man, I'm an elf!" schtick in Rohan. And the question that all of that (plus Gandalf and Shadowfax of course) engenders is why the fuck wasn't Glorfindel "riding elvish style" then?

While the Doylist explanation of "Tolkien hadn't come up with that idea yet + Frodo needed to be able to both hold-onto and steer Asfaloth and he isn't an elf so he had to have a saddle" makes sense, it's obviously not satisfying from an in-universe standpoint, is it?

(And somebody made some extremely good points laying-out a very convincing logistical explanation recently, and I like it quite like a lot, and might well use that in fics myself sometime because it's splendid and seems extremely legit, and opens up some fun things to play around with re: elvish history and culture; but while it's an extremely satisfying answer in terms of Accurate World Building Detail, it's never felt entirely viscerally satisfying to me in terms of Tolkienian Style, if you follow me.)

So I posit: what if the reason why Asfaloth had Conveniently Mortal-Appropriate Tack during that section of story was for the convenience of mortals?

Specifically, the Dúnedain.

What if when the Elves of Rivendell are doing something that involves (or might potentially involve) both horses and their human allies, they put enough tack on their horses to allow one of the Rangers to be able to use that horse in a pinch? That would make sense, right? Just a simple little practical precaution!

Imagine being in a situation where you want to stick one of your human companions on your horse for some reason, or you want one of them to look after your horse for a little while you go off and do a thing, etc etc, but you can't because there aren't any reins. And now you're fucked. What a silly self-inflicted problem that could be avoided with just a little bit of planning ahead!

So, because Glorfindel knew that the Rangers would also be searching around looking for Frodo and/or evidence of the Nine, he put just enough extra tack on Asfaloth that if he, for instance, found an injured mortal in the wild, he could put them on his horse and send them back to Rivendell without him...just as a random example of a hypothetical situation that might happen.

(Anyway, that's the headcanon I'm going to be running with from here out, I think. Also I've gone and retroactively added a little scene revolving around this explanation to my Celebrimbor Fellowship AU fic, for anyone who's been interested in that story.)

*Thoughts and arguments welcome!

[subtleyonline]

okay to continue with xanaified!jeremie au here’s some ideas i was thinking about:

jeremie somehow being a double agent. since he is very smart and hacker man essentially, maybe there would be some instances where he would try to send aelita code, and write it off as an “accident”

not a lot of episodes where we physically see jeremie and he’s not “evil” per say, but i think his fighting style is more long range, not very close combat kinda guy lol

episodes like those i dont think jeremie shows up in lyoko, or if he does, its an extra intense fight because xana is pissed

the group overall being even more protective of each other, because i think how it happened was through the headset/technology, so extra anxious lyoko gang

there’s some tension/anger because their friend is gone, but they also try to lean on each other emotionally and become closer as a group

also i support some unexpected friendships, so will gets somewhat closer to aelita, and eventually he views her like a little sister

yumi starts talking more with odd, since he can always lighten the mood, and sometimes she just needs that. (and also someone to just listen without judging)

aelita trying to teach how to use the supercomputer for some basic functions, and there’s a lot more of a switch up because no one else can deactivate the tower

so now there’s more of a rotational system there is what i’m thinking

[1starqi]

Over The Moon

(Part 1: Chicken Scratch) (Part 2: Call On Silent) (Part 3: Easy Talking) (Part 5: No Messing Up) (Part 6: Can We Talk?) (Part 7: Goldilocks)

genre: fluff, college!au

pairing: student!mark x student!m/c ft. haechan

summary: you confer with your friends after your date

wc: ~700

note: your friends still aren't real people. i had a lot of fun writing this one, her friends remind me of mine in some instances which is fun to write. the flowers thing where he asks is also something my bf did which was cute to include

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

“I think I bombed my final, guys." Yunseul announces to your group of three.

“Seriously, what even was the final question? Prof. Park did not prepare us for that at all.” Euna says. You’re lucky, your final was three weeks ago—but the English Department’s was this week, hence why this was your first real hangout in over a month. ‘Ugh, I really can’t think about this right now.” Euna draws you back to reality. You’re on a snack run, walking to the closest convenience store on the brick-paved sidewalk. 

The chiming above the door issues your entrance. “On other things…” Euna drags out her words and you feel the soft cotton of her sleeve knock into your arm as she leans into you. She looks expectant, and so does Yunseul.

You already know what they want, “Nothing crazy happened.” You giggle. God, that was so lame, you think. You giggled. You know in the back of your mind that you’re going to tell them every detail as soon as you get back to your dorm.

“Come on, you can't tell us anything?” Yunseul pouts.

“I’ll tell you as soon as we get home, okay?” You can't stop the smile from spreading on your face. You’ve learned your lesson of gossiping in public.

“But it’s Mark! Obviously, we have to know. You can say something here if it’s not too crazy.” Euna adds. She’s dating Haechan, who’s friends with Mark. Since they’re on the same dance team, Euna figures that Haechan would know something and, because it is considered her best friend, would get told.

“It’s not that big a deal! We went on one date.” You cave, you’ve been seeking an opportunity to pour your heart out to them—and there’s almost no one in the convenience store, certainly no one your age. The soles of your shoes stick to the floor of the store as you walk.

“But he brought you flowers! That’s kind of a big deal. Do you think he knew tulips are your favorite?” Yunseul asks. These are all of the same questions you are asking. Something catches your eye in the store: the flower arrangements. Something about them makes you think about your date and it makes you giddy.

“Actually…” Euna pipes up to your right, “He asked me what flowers she likes.”

“And you didn’t tell us?!” Yunseul exclaims as she grabs a lemon-lime soda from the wall of big metal fridges.

“What?!” You and her are shocked in tandem.

“He did his research, I guess?” Euna says as if it doesn’t make your heart race that he cared enough, even before knowing you. You’re impressed.

“I’m jealous,” Yunseul complains and grabs a stack of Reeses—her favorite. As you approach the register you take stock of your purchase: junk food and some strawberries. The middle-aged cashier rings you up.

—

“Okay. Now, tell us everything. No skipping details.” Yunseul is propped up on Euna’s bed, kicking her feet in her pink flowered slippers absentmindedly. Euna is on the desk chair, her hand stuck in a can of sour cream-flavored Pringles.

“He was just easy to talk to, you know? I was like, staring off into the distance and he caught me, but it wasn’t awkward at all. I still can’t believe he called me! Oh, I didn’t tell you guys this, did I?” You ramble, and they’re looking at you expectantly. “He called me during Prof. Im’s class. I faked going to the bathroom to listen to the voicemail, and that’s how he asked me out.” 

Ding, ding, ding ding ding. You’re interrupted by Euna’s phone steadily pinging. “It’s Haechan. Oh my gosh, Sora.” She puts a hand to her mouth in surprise. Her eyes slowly meet with yours and you see her smile. She puts the screen of her pink-cased phone in your face and scrolls through a series of texts, going too fast for you to read anything. “It’s Haechan! He’s telling me that Mark is over the moon about your date.” 

“Seriously?” You feel the bubble of happiness swelling in your chest.

“Yeah, he was at practice telling Haechan about it, he’s nervous to text you.” Euna’s beaming at you, urging you to say something.

“I’ll text him when he’s done with practice. When is that, by the way?” You figured Euna would know because of Haechan and Mark’s shared schedule.

“17:00.”

[dancingacrossthemilkyway]

Make a drabble for my time travel au pls

It shouldn’t be so difficult to keep up an act, but Jon never was much of an actor to begin with.

In a perfect world, he could blame the slip-ups that almost reveal they’re dating on someone else. Martin, for instance, given he is the other half of this particular equation. However Martin does a significantly better job at keeping everything under wraps - something that shouldn’t be a surprise after everything they’ve gone through. No, his fault is being slightly too aloof at times these days or when he’s blunter than he ought to be, compared to how he was a matter of weeks ago. Still, Tim and Sasha simply worry over him, concerned that something has happened in his personal life to upset him. When he delivers Jon tea and occasionally shuts the door behind him, they assume he’s in trouble again, none the wiser about the kiss he places on Jon’s forehead or the casual way they chat with him leaning against Jon’s desk. 

Jon, however. He’s not as subtle as he’d like. It’s been a point of contention with himself for over a decade that he more or less wears his heart on his sleeve, despite every attempt otherwise. It certainly doesn’t help that he can’t lie to save his life. 

All of this means he generally goes out of his way to avoid Martin because he’s well aware of the fact that he cannot control how softly he looks at him. 

So far, it’s been a successful strategy. Sasha assumes he’s kicked up his dislike of Martin a notch and hasn’t thought too much further into it; Tim’s spent much of his time preparing to comfort Martin after Jon inevitably does something to upset him. This does nothing, unfortunately, to save them when he’s forced to be in the room with all three of them to prepare for the inevitable arrival of Jane Prentiss. 

There is nothing to worry about, he tells himself as he gathers the pertinent statements along with a list of reasons they should be preparing that hopefully won’t trigger suspicion. I simply won’t look at him, or speak to him, or even acknowledge that he exists. It is an absolutely reasonable plan, one that he’s confident he can stick to. 

“...hey boss,” Tim starts about halfway through Jon’s explanation of why he believes Prentiss is inhabiting the tunnels underneath the Institute. “Is there a reason you’ve been avoiding looking at Martin the past 30 minutes?”

Jon startles visibly at the question, clutching his pen tighter. He clears his throat and glances at the table, setting down the pen in favor of picking up his papers and organizing them. “He has yet to ask any relevant questions. I don’t see why I should focus my attention on him.”

“It’s just that, you know, you’ve glanced at both Sasha and me several times by now. Doing the whole-” Tim wiggles his fingers at his eyes with an easy grin, “-eye contact thing to make sure we’re listening and understanding. But not Martin.”

“Yeah, actually, Tim’s right.” Sasha sits up in her chair and leans forward, placing her elbows on her desk and frowning at him. “You’ve been treating him like he doesn’t exist lately, Jon. That’s not okay.”

“Well, I-” Shit. Jon swallows, stumbling over his words in his attempt to come up with some sort of believable excuse. “Martin, he - that is, I simply-”

A long-suffering sigh comes from Martin’s desk. “Guys, it’s okay. Jon doesn’t have to like me.” As usual, Martin comes to his rescue right before he makes an even bigger mess of things. “What matters is that we do the job, right?”

“There’s plenty of studies out there that show it’s important that people who work closely together need to have the ability to get along if they’re going to be successful,” Sasha argues with a shake of her head. “The workplace environment can become toxic really fast otherwise.”

“Toxic?” Jon furrows his brows, offended at the implications. “Maybe I don’t talk to Martin much, but I would hardly call that toxic.”

“What about the way you berate him when he doesn’t do his ‘due diligence’?” Tim cuts in. “That’s toxic behavior if I’ve ever seen it.”

“Or the way that you not only give him the easiest tasks but tell him you’re doing so because that way he can’t mess things up?” Sasha tilts her head to the side, one brow raised in a challenge. “Or how you-”

Jon raises his hands in supplication and sighs. “Alright, alright, I get it. I need to be more pleasant to Martin. Now if that’s all, I’d very much like to get back to how we’re going to handle Ja-”

“No, no, you’re not getting off that easily.” Tim exchanges a look with Sasha, then, one that becomes far more mischievous than he likes. “You need to apologize.”

“What?” Both Jon and Martin respond in unison, eyes meeting for the briefest of moments before looking at Tim and Sasha in varying states of dismay. 

“He really doesn’t need to do that.” Martin leans forward and fervently shakes his head when the others look at him. “It’s, it’s fine, guys, okay? Just drop it.”

Is this how they all viewed him, back then? Jon’s brows furrow and his lips tilt down into a frown as he leans his palms onto the spare desk in front of him. He knew he’d treated Martin poorly, of course he did; he’d have to be either very stupid or very oblivious to not. “No, no,” he says in a softer and far more exhausted tone than he usually uses (mostly for the purpose of keeping up the ruse). “They’re… they’re right. I never have properly apologized for the way I treated you, Martin.”

Martin, for his part, freezes much like a deer caught in headlights. “I - uh. Jon, this maybe isn’t the time?” 

For the first time since walking into the assistant’s area, Jon looks straight at Martin. It’s probably a mistake, one he’s not entirely certain they’ll recover from because he can feel the way his expression softens even as Martin’s shifts to a visible panic. “There’s never going to be a ‘right time,’ I don’t think. I’m sorry, Martin. I truly am. I will do better from here on out.”

The silence that follows is loud, lasting what feels like an eternity before being cut through with a low whistle. “That was a lot more genuine than I expected,” Tim says, gaze flicking between the two with a growing curiosity. “Hey, have you two ever considered-”

“That’ll be quite enough of that, thank you,” Jon interrupts, breaking eye contact with Martin and shuffling his papers unnecessarily. “Back to the topic at hand-”

[sketching-shark]

This is very funny to me @sketching-shark as that outburst he has in that movie is honestly half the reason this AU exists to begin with, his full on 'MAYBE I DO HAVE A MOM, YOU DON'T KNOW THAT' stuck with me so much it must've influenced this AU and it's subsequent resurgence this year unconsciously.

Also apologies for the sheer size of all this.

The first thing I ever drew for it was after Monkey King: Hero is Back came out and the designs were partially inspired by the movie making mama a bit more macaque shaped. Whereas this year both mama and Wukong got a slightly more long-tailed monkey design.

The idea of the AU - which with a pinch of salt I admit might mess the narrative the story just a touch, but it is predominantly a fluffy AU - is that instead of coming from the egg fully cognizant and adult in shape, Wukong bursts from the egg and is very much baby.

I had it out in a rough little comic that Mama (she has no name right now or ever honestly) comes across this egg that's been cracked open and finds a tiny little fluffball inside and she is immediately just like; 'Mine', because she's not leaving a baby alone on the mountain. He might be fresh in their troop, maybe their actual mama left them here for safety and got eaten by a tiger? So sad.

And that's how he ends up in the Huaguo troop and is raised by Mama and his aunties alongside his future generals/best friends.

The beats of the story are basically the same it just explores a closer knit connection with his family that we see partly but not enough I feel.

For instance, I haven't drawn it yet, but the first taste of death that Wukong is the death of one of the elderly matrons of the troop that drop down dead when he and the other juveniles are playing. He's so confused and distraught that this would happen, even more so that it's apparently just natural and although sad something he has to 'accept'. And obviously he doesn't, nor does he like it.

That's his catalyst for his Master Subodhi arc and along with the insult of being dragged to Hell why he erases all of the names of the monkeys in the books of death.

In this AU I like to explore not only Wukong's familial happiness but the fact that all in all his catalyst for becoming immortal is because he loves life and doesn't want it to end or be put into the cycles of reincarnation to have a 'new one'. This is his life, he wants to keep living it.

Anyway back to the crux, the beats continue and in typical Mama fashion - no matter how old he gets or how splendorous and great; he is still mama's baby.

I haven't gotten to the point of how it incorporates into the Journey, though my favourite jokes from friends so far is the idea that - would probably not work on the Great Sage whatsoever - whenever Tripitaka gets angry or extremely frustrated before he has to tighten the circelt; he just whips out the 'I will tell your mother' card on Wukong which doesn't really intimidate him at all. But in the back of his mind he's like;

'Oh no, what if he does tell my mama, I promised to be a good boy on this pilgrimage I can't have Guan Yin AND my mama be upset with me.'

The ideas are still manifesting fresh and I'm working on a hopefully cute alternative to the Six-Eared Macaque story in which he might still die, but also might end up living, it's more so how he's found out in this iteration.

But YEAH that's all I have so far, just a soft fluffy AU that explores Wukong's familial side as the community grandpa but also if he had a regular youth, an adopted mother and a lot of aunties.

Also it goes without saying that initially the Heavens are pretty petrified of Mama in a sort of;

'If she can manage Wukong, how strong must she be!?"

Without taking into the account the idea that maybe the reason Wukong actually respects and listens to her is that she's his mama and he lovers her.

SHRIEK OKAY @kaijufluffs SO I WAS FLOORED LEARNING THAT YOU'RE THE PERSON WHO DID THE SUN WUKONG MOM COMIC BECAUSE THAT IS LEGITIMATELY ONE OF MY FAVORITE JTTW-BASE COMICS AND NEEDLESS TO SAY I LOVE THIS AU!!!

Because YEAH Sun Wukong has so much love for his monkey family that provides a really interesting layer to his character, so needless to say I'm excited that you're putting together an AU that's specifically about exploring this! I do think as such that it fits pretty well with the general story of Xiyouji, even if you're making the Monkey King much more baby at the beginning. As it is since he started out a little smaller than a playing ball but did grow to a little shorter than 4 feet in the og classic, I think we can assume there was a period when he had some growing to do even if he was fully ambulatory from day 1 there. I also really like this AU because it really seems to be going further into where SWK's intense fear of and sadness about death would come from; we all have that, some more than others, but really emphasizing how much he loves his family and loves life provides a really good and really understandable motive for why he does what he does. I especially like the way too that you're using this as a way to emphasize SWK's defiance to every authority, in this case not just the natural order of birth-life-death but also the idea that one would have to become a human to have a shot at immortality/Enlightenment. He's happy being a monkey with his mama, aunties, friends and family!

I also genuinely think it's very in character for the book's events to have everyone baffled why SWK would have so much love and respect for an old lady monkey even though SWK consistently shows how much he loves his monkey family & acts with respect to people who respect him lmao.

Finaly asdgrwef that last image immediately made me think of those photos of mother monkeys tugging their kids by their tails when they try to wander off & get into trouble

[jsdimensions]

Error Of My Ways: Chapter 1

Words: 3,714

Rated T for multiple instances of swearing.

Summary:

A fan of Undertale and its alternate universes, or AUs, is brought back from the dead in the body of one of her favorite Sans variants. What could go wrong?

Everything, apparently.

Next ->

The fic is below the cut.

Nothing.

I felt nothing, yet everything at the same time.

It was as if I was in the middle of a dreamless sleep, yet I was aware of it.

It was nothing. I was much too aware of how much nothingness surrounded me. It felt as if my consciousness, my thoughts, were the only things that existed in this place devoid of comprehension.

I wanted to speak.

Breathe.

Move.

Listen.

Feel.

And yet, nothing was there.

Until, one indiscernible moment, there finally was.

I don't know when it happened, but I didn't care. Existence was something I took for granted, and I was just glad to be back in action, in all honesty.

Although I somehow ended up on the floor, I lied there anyway. I was on my back, arms spread wide. Besides the obvious oddity of being on the floor, I felt about the same as usual.

My eyes remained closed. Presumably, I'd gained consciousness before my alarm, and that's no fun!

And so, I lied there, attempting to keep my eyes closed. However, it seemed like the sun’s rays were trying and failing to reach them. Or something really bright.

…Wait. Was I late to school!?

I sat up, attempting to open my eyes but shutting them immediately. I turned away from where I thought the light source was coming from, but once I completed the motion, I noticed that the light did not change at all.

…How? Why?

I opened my eyes once more, squinting heavily.

White.

…White?

It was the only color I saw. Looking around only revealed the same.

White, white, white…The sight was familiar to me, yet the implications of this being my reality terrified me.

I stretched one of my arms out in front of me to see if the room I was in was smaller than it looked.

Well, what I thought would be my arm, anyway.

For whatever reason, the arm was a mass of blurred colors that almost looked like large colored splotches in my vision. Moving it more confirmed that I had full control over it. My heart skipped a beat.

I could recognize those colors from anywhere. Black with a loosely fitting sleeve, with fingers that were segmented into crimson and gold hues.

…No. This can't be happening, I thought, as I brought one of my the hands closer to my face.

If I had a stomach (I knew I didn't now, for certain), I'd have felt it churn when I came to three different shocking revelations, all at once.

One: I became nearsighted. My 20/20 vision was completely gone. Just my luck.

Two: No more flesh for me! Only bones. Not like being human was exactly my thing in the first place, but it was still a shock to my system.

Three: I died. My memories had just returned to me, and I was pissed.

I was eating in a restaurant when, somehow, a fucking semi crashed through the window, crushing my feeble, fragile human form.

…Truck-kun. The infamous isekai killer, paying me a visit.

I didn't know if I wanted to laugh or cry.

Out of indecision, I continued to stare at my hand instead. It felt like my face took on a blank expression. Both options required vocalization, and I simply wasn't ready to hear that yet. All that could do for me was let my new reality sink in even more. I wanted the bliss of denial on my side for just a little longer…

As soon as a voice spoke from seemingly all sides, all of my hopes were thrown out of the non-existent window.

“Error is now ready for asks.”

I shot a glare in a random direction. I was absolutely not ready, thank you very much.

I flinched as an avalanche of voices crashed down onto me, covering the spots my ears would be if, well, I wasn't a skeleton.

“Are you okay?”

was the only question I could discern from the noise. I shook my head vigorously in response.

And then, one loud voice broke through the noise.

“EVERYBODY SHUT UP!!!!”

For a few moments, I returned to the silence I woke up in. However, the voices eventually started up again, becoming a murmuring crowd. I felt like I was being poked with needles, small areas of my body stinging for a short amount of time before they moved on to a different spot. Glancing down at myself revealed that these short stings corresponded with what I assumed were the glitches. Another voice spoke up, bringing my gaze away from this…new form.

“oh no! i'm so sorry about the others. they're just excited that you're back.”

I slowly got up off the ‘ground’, holding one of my arms with my opposite hand. I felt my brows furrow in thought as I wondered how to respond without talking.

…I quickly realized that I couldn't entertain the thought any longer. I had to talk, whether I wanted to or not.

“…Don't do that again. Please.”

I flinched–no, cringed–as I spoke. The voice that spat out my words was deep and masculine, and it had a stutter to it that I couldn't control. I always liked listening to this voice, but hearing it coming out of my own mouth sent a shiver down my spine, no pun intended.

“And why can't we? Your reaction was quite funny imo.”

“Because…I…hate it. Next question.”

I spoke slowly and unnaturally, as if each syllable was its own sentence.

“Geez, you definitely aren't okay.”

“He Isn't Acting Like Himself! Who Are You, Imposter!?”

“amogus”

“hey, now, let's not jump to conclusions! errors are unpredictable, remember?”

“But not like this.”

I didn't question how I sighed as I performed the action.

“Alright, you got me. To be fair, I'm…definitely not like him. I…don't know how to process this.”

“Process what”

“...being reincarnated as a fictional character.”

“lol what that isn't possible though”

“Yeah, that's what I thought, too. You gotta believe me, though! I wouldn't lie about this.”

“Don't worry I believe it!”

“I don't. I'm Leaving”

“That sounds really hard to deal with.”

“OOH, awesome!!!! What's it like?????”

If I had a drink in my mouth, I would have been tempted to do a spit take. Instead, I gave a confused squint to a random section of the whiteness.

“Awesome?” After a moment, I cleared my non-existent throat before speaking once more.

“Uh, anyway, I…don't know how to feel about any of this. It's all so…foreign? Yeah. As I think it would be if you suddenly got turned into somebody else with a way different voice. And into a guy. That too.”

“wait you WHAT”

“Oof.”

“...Yeah. So…I'm actually a girl. In spirit.”

“How haven't you crashed yet? I'd totally be rebooting for the 5th time by now if that happened to me.”

I prepared myself to speak, starting a motion with one of my arms, but I quickly froze in place.

…That voice was right. How hadn't I crashed by that point? In fact, why wasn't I freaking out more!? For the first time in quite a while, I chose to swear.

“...Oh, shit. Wait. Hold on. I need a moment to, uh,” I began to sit back on the ground, “Mourn. Process. Think. All that stuff.”

“take ur time bro”

“At least you have powers now.”

“aw man!! lucky…i wish i had magic!!”

“But, to quote that meme…at what cost? I…I'll never get to see my friends again. My family. God, just when my life got better, too!” I curled up into a ball, head hidden by my legs. “I swear, I gotta be cursed…I got what I wanted, but…I'm alone. I-I don't…” I paused, momentarily deliberating on if I wanted to raise my voice or not. I shook my head. “I don't want to be alone.” My fear, made worse by the distortion of my voice, was a weight on my shoulders. I could feel tears begin to build up on the corners of my eye sockets, and that stinging glitching sensation intensified tenfold.

“But you have us don't you?”

“please calm down…us voices can help accompany you though anything!”

“SO WHAT!? I STILL DIED! I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT KIND OF MULTIVERSE THIS IS! I CAN'T ACT LIKE HIM! I SUCKED AT THEATER! I–I just…I don't know what to do. If somebody tries to hurt me, I can't do anything. I can't fight. I don't know how magic works. And none of you can help defend me, because all of you are just…voices. Voices only I can hear. I've always considered myself a mentally strong person, but…damn. This might just be beyond me.”

A long moment of silence, occasionally broken up by an indecipherable murmur or two, followed.

“On a, uh, lighter note, if you're not Error, then what's your name?”

Spaced out, I took a few seconds to process that I was spoken to.

“Oh, it's…” My eyes widened. My sentence ended right there. “Shit. Oh, no. No, no…”

“Did you forget!?”

I nodded.

“Do you want us to call you error then?”

“Not really. I remember thinking about an alternate name to go by just in case I ever wanted to a long, long time ago, so…call me Jupiter until I can think of something better.”

“oooh! pretty name!!”

I couldn't help but smile a bit. Putting a hand near my neck, I confirmed that I had a scarf, so I pulled that up over half of my face.

“Aw! Shy Baby!!”

I waved my free hand dismissively, a slight playful tone present in my voice. “Yeah, yeah, don't get used to it.”

It didn't take long for inevitable, awkward silence to creep in once more. I fidgeted with my scarf, my fingers rubbing against the surprisingly soft fabric.

Looking at the scarf, I finally took note of my eyesight again. Or lack thereof. I was squinting so hard that the muscles on my face, if I still had them, would have begun to feel sore at that point. My eyes widened as a memory came back to me, and I stuck a hand inside the jacket I wore.

There was a pocket, hidden on the inside. Perfect. I took out the item, and it looked like just what I was looking for.

I blinked a few times after putting it on my face. Looking down at my form again revealed that I could see smaller details like the wear on my scarf and the textures on the fabric of the clothes I wore rather than vague blobs of color. I sighed in relief.

“Finally, some semblance of familiarity here…”

“Did you wear glasses before, Jupiter?”

I jumped as the voice spoke. Right. They exist. “Well, no. I didn't really need them. Jeez, I knew his vision was bad, but not this bad…” I continued examining myself, feeling almost entranced as I stared. It's not everyday a fictional character becomes real, but becoming one? It was unbelievable, really, and I still couldn't process it in full. I doubted I would any time soon.

I put a hand on my face, feeling the slightly rough texture of bone against bone. The face didn't seem to have the most realistic of proportions, but I wouldn't know for sure until I got my hands on a mirror.

My hands worked their way up to my eye sockets when I felt an abrupt change in texture to something strange that felt nothing like the bone I'd been feeling seconds before. Pulling my hands away from my face, I found that blue strings were tied around each of my fingers. I was caught off guard, but not necessarily surprised.

“Interesting…” I mumbled to myself, the smile that appeared on my face quickly turning into a frown as I came to the realization that…

“Um, voices? Do any of you know how Error detaches these?”

A wave of uncertainty was the only response I got. Great. Okay. I was on my own, then.

I kept pulling my hands away, but like melted cheese, it kept on stretching.

I used another hand to try to snap one of the strings. Nothing.

I heard a few chuckles from the voices as I bit down on one of them. I quickly spat it out. It didn't look damaged in the slightest.

I closed my eyes as I put my hands near my face in a display of infuriation. Suddenly, I felt the strings disconnect from my face, trailing down my arms. Opening my eyes again, I was able to pull the strings off my fingers with ease.

Was it that easy?

I cringed from the unfamiliar feeling of summoning another string, with just one of my fingers that time. As soon as I blinked, it detached from my face once more.

“Oh,” I exclaimed simply.

“Right. Magic. Yeah. Um…I should probably get around to learning that, huh?”

I was greeted with a murmur of agreement.

“Guess I can't put it off any longer, then. Do any of you know how this stuff works?”

“Nope not really”

“Magic doesn't exist where I'm from.”

“i can guess but i could be wrong.”

“It Depends On The Multiverse You Are In”

“It comes as instinct for most monsters. I assume you weren't one?”

“Fun. Great. Who said they had a guess? I need to have something to try out here.”

“thats me! ive heard that its mostly a focus thing or drawing power from the soul. as the other voice said before it comes naturally to monsters. idk if you would be an exception or not tho”

“...My soul? Wait, if it draws from the soul, then how could Ink…No. We can think about that later.”

I looked back down at myself, my gaze following my hand as I reached out to the nothingness surrounding me. I felt my brows furrow as my arm returned to my side. I didn't really feel anything different. Whatever connection I had with my soul remained unfelt. I began to think. What was the closest thing to magic I did in my previous life..? A memory–no, a set of memories–flashed in my mind. Would it work? Probably not, but it was worth a try. It's not like the voices would be able to tell anyone else if I did make a fool out of myself, anyway.

“Alright, I'm going to need you all to shut up for a moment. I'll be able to focus better if things are silent.”

The voices, for the most part, seemed to comply.

I remembered the times when I lived in what I called the “old place.” It was a decently-sized house, a little big for just three people. The backyard had a wooden patio that rested under a large tree that basked half of it in shade. Its branches hung low enough for me to touch them, an activity that I quite enjoyed. When the weather was good enough, I liked to go out there with a walking stick with indents carved by wood worms I'd found on a trip with my mom and slowly dance with the breeze. Sometimes, I'd pause, pointing the stick in a certain direction, and the cool breeze would follow the direction I pointed at. It was likely a coincidence, but it made me feel special in a difficult, miserable time.

Although I had nothing to use as the stick, I began to slowly move. My legs were spread in a lunge, and one of my arms slowly reached out towards infinity once more. My other arm was held at my side, almost at a raptor position.

“What the hell are you doing?”

If my eyes weren't closed, I was sure that one of them would have twitched out of annoyance. “I told you to shut up.”

“That doesnt answer my question.”

I began to stand up straight again.

“It doesn't have to,” I snapped back.

“Yeah it does actually.”

I felt my annoyance begin to swell inside me. My eyes clenched further shut as my brows furrowed once more. “Well, I have my methods.”

“You dont even know if theyll work.”

“I'm trying, alright!?”

“Nothing happened regardless.”

“Because you won't let me focus!” My eyes opened, and, palm up, I let my wrist travel towards me ever so slightly. A foreign energy coursed through my arm and into my hand.

I yelped as something hit me right in the chin. Hard. I fell backwards, landing right on my back.

“oh! thats one way to do it!”

“Ouch! Are you okay!?”

The rest of the voices either gasped or laughed at me.

“What–” My sentence died out before it even began. There was a black bone right in front of me. It protruded from the “floor”, glitch effects that matched mine and all. “–Oh.”

I remained silent as the voices continued their commotion.

…I had powers.

It wasn't surprising, considering, well, everything, but rather…a different word that starts with the same letter.

Surreal.

I slowly got up, approaching the bone. As I reached out my hand, the voices raised in volume.

“Hey, don't do that!?”

“wait stop! it might hurt you!”

I touched it anyway, and…

Nothing happened. It was just a bone.

“You're overreacting. See? It's fine.”

I leaned onto it with one arm, my spare hand being held at my face in thought for a moment before I reached out once more. I willed that energy I felt just moments ago back, summoning another bone that wasn't much larger than my hand. It was a deep red this time, almost the same color as some of the bones that made up my fingers.

And the next moment, I found myself falling again with a snap.

The bone I was leaning on broke in half. The other half that was still attached to the ground ended in a series of sharp points.

“Hmm…that wouldn't be a half bad melee weapon,” I mused to myself as I got up. “Maybe in a pinch. Or if I get into a fight before I learn how to use my strings as attacks. I could just…snap one in half, and then dual wield! Oh, man, that sounds so cool…” I put my hands together in excitement. “Hey! I can finally intimidate people! I was too ‘cute’ for that before…Not that I'm not cute now, of course.” I said with a giggle.

“u would have to leave for that to happen tho

do u want to?”

“Yeah, no, I'm not doing that yet. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. I need to be prepared for a fight first.”

“If you know how to make portals, you can always just run away if a fight is about to break out, right? That way, you don't have to learn yet.”

“Oh, yeah, I could! It would be out of character for Error to do that, though…I'm not sure if I want to try to act like him around other people or not yet. I mean, I did drop out of Theater class because of anxiety, so…ehh. I don't think I could. Not without everyone seeing through it. But what do I even say?”

“Why Not Tell The Truth?”

“Wha…Isn't the answer obvious? I can't just tell somebody that they're not real and the person this body belonged to is probably…essentially…dead…oh.”

“Well shit.”

“I hope the original isn't dead! He was so easy and fun to mess with…”

“if youre in his body, that means either youre right and hes gone or theres a remnant of him still in there somewhere.”

“Oh No !! He Could Take Your New Body Over !!! Watch Out !!”

The thought made me shudder. Hearing the sound of my bones momentarily rattling made me shudder a second time.

“Doubt it. He would have shown some kind of sign by now if he was there.”

“Well, there's only one way to find that out. I don't really have control over it. In the meantime, uh…portals! Y'know, I always hated light mode on anything. This place is, like, the embodiment of that.”

Focusing my magic once more, I did a waving motion with my hand, only being met with nothing.

“u moved on from that quick…”

“When I'm faced with a thought that can make me panic and generally have a not so great time…I distract myself. It's actually a great coping mechanism when used correctly.”

I waved again. The results were about as expected.

“Wait, maybe it was a snap…I swear it was a wave, though.”

I snapped my fingers, but nothing happened once more.

“I think Error edits code to make those.”

“Shoot, right, how did I forget…”

I paused for a second.

“I…I don't know how code works. Is Error able to see code, or was that exclusive to Fatal..? Shit. How did he do this?”

I focused my magic again, squinting my eyes as I focused. Perhaps, I thought, there was something I wasn't seeing…

I thought about where I wanted to go. There were so many AUs out there…

I knew that talking to people was something I needed to avoid. AUs that happen to be peaceful would usually have tons of people in them, but ones without many people would, more often than not, be really dangerous.

“...maybe Outertale,” I thought out loud, nodding to myself. I sensed something, most likely my magic at work, that felt almost tangible. With my hand, I tore a hole into the space in front of me, allowing me to see a sight more beautiful than I ever thought it would be in person. I quickly wiped the tears that threatened to prick at the edges of my sockets as I walked through the portal. My mouth opened slightly in an awe-filled gasp.

Countless lights, more than I'd ever seen before, sparkled in the dark navy-blue sky like glitter poured on silky-smooth fabric. Other colors, no doubt the dust left behind from dead stars, were scattered throughout the expanse like paint that was submerged in water. Oranges, blues, purples… A combination of pleasant sights that made me struggle to keep my composure.

“Pretty, isn't it?”

I nodded, rendered speechless from the sight in front of me.

“Hello? Who are you?”

I turned around quickly as a voice spoke behind me.

[valberryy]

H e l l o HSHSHSHS glad to see ur back on my dash ^-^ ...mayhaps... a spy x family au with ayato and tighnari? if u arent writing the sumeru characters yet just ayato is fine woohoo~ TY will read ur other stuff as soon as exams r over

STARFELL BACK AT IT AGAIN W THE GALAXY BRAIN IDEAS!!!! thank u thank u it is also nice to Be back <3 <3 i'm catching up w the archon quests so it's All Good, BUT i played w the prompt a little if that's okay ..... 🙈 no worries take your time and best of luck with ur exams !!!! <3 KAYA MO YANNNN

➻ ayato and tighnari in a spy x family au

content warnings: mentions of blood/injuries, one instance of swearing

➻ given everything from his status at birth, to his surname, to the obviously-branded clothes he likes to wear, it would be the understatement of the century to say that AYATO has quite a lot to lose — especially considering his ever-so-mysterious business trips that he happens go to on so often.

➻ on the outside, you and him seem to make the very definition of a perfect couple. he's sweet on you, often bringing home gifts after his long days at work, and every night the cctv system catches how you open the door to greet him with a smile. there's no shortage of whispers about that guy kamisato and his spouse — which seemed more than a little amusing to him, especially considering how your "relationship" is, among many things, a business contract of sorts.

➻ he found out about you through work connections, funnily enough, but as far as his knowledge goes, you're just a civilian who happened to need protection — and so, your agreement was born. you'll be under his care as a member of the kamisato clan, and he'll have you to keep his sister company while he's away for spy work, and help him keep his cover. though... you don't know about that second part.

➻ something he's beginning to find a little odd, though, is that another spy from a rival organisation seems to be even more of a thorn in his side than usual, lately. he'd spend days investigating a target and finding a good stake-out location... to find someone else already there, waving oh-so-pleasantly, oh-so-frustratingly at him.

➻ he's rather reluctant to admit how much he bickers with them, and even less likely to admit that he rather enjoys it, sometimes. even through the voice-disguising device, there's something to these encounters, and the way he hears his codename cooed through his comms that he finds oddly endearing — and more infuriating than anything he's had to deal with in his life.

➻ though... something about them and the gruff tenderness with which they tug bandages tighter around his wounds reminds him a little of you.

➻ but he comes home, smile pleasant as always, though his footsteps may be a little heavy — and listens to you talk about your day at work: oh, you were really early for a meeting earlier, and it was so awkward with just you and one other person there... his smile only widens when he hears about what you and ayaka have been up to lately, too.

➻ as tired — and annoyed — as he may be, and as much of an odd coincidence it is that your mannerisms happen to remind him of his annoying coworker, watching you two scuttle into the kitchen to bring out some baked goods recipe you found online for him to taste makes him feel like his pretend family has more weight to it than he initially thought.

‎‎

➻ while it seems to many that TIGHNARI decided to settle down after getting married, that was very much not the case. he simply adapted to a... work from home lifestyle, he'll say — whether that refers to the papers he goes through in the living room after seeing you off for work and collei off at school, or the locked study at the end of the hall that he shuts himself into for hours on end.

➻ much like ayato's case, your "marriage" began as a mutually beneficial agreement. he wouldn't have to choose between his very secretive r&d work and looking after collei, and you... well, he isn't sure exactly what you gain out of this arrangement, since it seems very biased in his favour.

➻ but he can't quite complain, he supposes. especially since collei seems to really like you, given how often he can hear you two laughing from the kitchen—hey, that's the salt, not the sugar!—and how you help her with phrases she can't quite seem to grasp, and how you two always walk home together from the station on the rare days that your schedules align.

➻ there's also the peculiar "lunchbox incident," as collei calls it, where she clung to you for a week after a business trip of yours — ah, he's normally so careful about where he puts his mushroom samples, but perhaps the mostly-empty house put him a little too at ease... you had laughed it off once you got home, and loathe as he is to admit it, the sound of your laugh and your scolding voice alike made the whole scene feel a little more domestic than he was used to.

➻ tighnari will admit that he was more than a little suspicious of you at first, but after seeing how you act around him and collei alike, he sagely decides to keep quiet about how your button-ups always seem to be a little too white and smell a little too much like bleach — so long as you keep quiet about the clinical, chemical smells coming from his study, of course.

➻ that's not to say he doesn't have his suspicions, though. it may be how smoothly your tone seems to shift from your work calls to calling everyone over for dinner, or how the little engraved logo by your phone is the same logo in the corner of all the documents filed neatly into the false bottom of his drawer. or maybe it's the simple fact that he doubts an office worker would come home covered in bruises so often.

➻ but each time you come home he's waiting for you on the couch with your favourite drink and a first aid kit, always muttering about what kind of asshole coworkers you must have if you always come home in these conditions. and in these moments, where it's just you and him in the living room, the late-night radio turned to the lowest volume with your occasional comments of, "ow, tighnari, i'm delicate!" he wonders, almost uncharacteristically, what it would be like for you to call him your husband.

[lazykim12]

Stayed together AU! Laxo and Kenta..

This is an Au I’ve been thinking regarding RUNES, of laxo and kenta, a small what if moment 👀 I really was thinking of wanting to make a small Au of RUNES from the creator of @gloomforrestrunes

So it’s simple, when laxo and kenta try to leave Logwood the second time, but unfortunately it is destroyed due to..raven, and Thistle, ruining Laxo’s escape plan, it all goes like cannon…Except when laxo gets his eye ripped out, scared and in a panic state to help her brother in this Au, she manages to get out of raven’s hold after biting her.

just in a fight or flight more, and in this instance kenta chose fight mode by pure panic, not in a rush to fight, more so to go help laxo, she tried but in result, raven tried grabbing a hold of her but ended up biting her too hard in the back area of the upper back, but in massive pain and feeling light headed, Kenta thought to play dead, and this of course made thistle and raven’s attention focus on kenta instead, with laxo panicking thinking raven had killed kenta, and all that could be heard in laxo’s ears is thistle and raven yelling at each other, laxo couldn’t quite hear the words due to he adrenaline and pain he was in but he could hear a sentence of raven’s.

“I can promise them another Trainee …it will just take time…she barely listened to my orders anyways.”

It all went to dark, well not before raven gave laxo one last slash to the face, blaming him for this accident.

Once waking up again, he’d expect Kenta’s body to be gone, but he then noticed kenta, her eyes half open trying to crawl towards him and thankfully raven and thistle were long gone, laxo was surprised but he had not time to be as he immediately went to Kenta, thankful she wasn’t gone before immediately using all the strength he had to carry her by the scruff, his shoulders felt too weak, he knew he wouldn’t be able to carry her to Askon.

It was a long while, laxo thought he’d collapse by now, but he held on strong…hopefully.

“…w…we’ll b..be okay kenta…we’ll be okay…”

. . .

So that’s the What if moment of the Au, of course this is just a fan idea and this is not cannon to the comic in anyway, I tried my best to go about it accurate, while also changing the idea if raven was more so ungrateful with how kenta was due to laxo, they of course are found near the borders, expect it’s only after they lay down for a bit until laxo decides to keep pushing until he collapses, Au!kenta is more so a little happier, she’s still traumatized from what has happened but is doing better, especially since she’s no longer being assigned to be a trainee in the dark realm. Laxo is still the same but he is a bit, in a way happy too because he has Kenta.

Kenta is still kinda skeptical of Kane due to Nex/aiden and laxo’s past relationship but if laxo is happy, she will trust it, but she will keep her eye out if needed too, she mostly likes to wear buttercups too, and if laxo lets her, she’ll put some on him too. Still going to see if I should develop this AU more!

These characters do not belong to me and belong to @gloomforrestrunes !

(I will keep doing Slugterra stuff just thought about dropping this real quick-) and apologies if I got anything wrong here from the lore in runes!

[fourswords]

my silly au again, ranking the little dudes in order from from most to least impulsive in their decision-making(??? i don't think that's the right way to phrase that. it's a ranking of how likely they are to just Go After Shit instead of stopping to think about it first. i just wanted to write out some characterization notes lmao):

#1: light - i mean given the manga of course he'd be number one. of course he'd Win. he sees something? he goes After It. something needs doing? he goes After It. and so on and so forth. there isn't a single part of him that doesn't impulsively make decisions at the drop of a hat (green running into the sandstorm. blue following the lady into the snowstorm. vio getting cornered by shadow and being like "alright how can i manipulate this situation so i can fucking Win" and deciding to pretend to be evil with him. red seeing a kid running from angry townspeople and immediately stepping in even to his own detriment). if anything he's a bit irritated that the others aren't as much of a Driving Force as he is. he wants to DO THINGS!!!!!!! he's working on actually listening to others before he does shit nowadays though.

#2: smithy - smithy is not AS bad as light in the "jumping into holes without thinking about it" regard but he IS still bad about it. however. yes he'll just walk off and start doing shit if he thinks it's the best thing to do but he's much, MUCH more likely to hang back for a minute and think about something before he does it. when he DOES "just walk off and start doing shit" it's because he took more than half a second to think about it and THEN came to the conclusion that He's Totally Right About This and He Will Be Going That Way, Actually. he took five seconds, thank you very much. i mean we're talking about the kid who, according to ezlo's dialogue in the minish cap, just jumped into the Giant Whirlwind On Top Of Veil Falls with literally no warning whatsoever. hilarious of him tbh. his tendency to hang back a bit more compared to light is also shown in his game where ezlo does note that he expresses concern or hesitancy in a couple of instances (before he gets into the first minecart in the cave of flames, for example). unfortunately he has never worked on actually listening to others in his life and it shows.

#3: knight - knight is way too mild to just Go After things unless he's by himself and it's an absolute necessity. if he's with someone else and something comes up then his first course of action (if able to do so) is to ask what the other person wants to do first and then build up a plan that incorporates both their perspectives on the situation. on the bright side he isn't afraid of being firm at the very least, so he isn't the type to get stuck in a repeating loop of "idk...i'll do this if you don't wanna do that but SHOULD we do that...." or whatever. like he's more "okay, so you think [x] and i think [y], so we'll do [xy] unless you have something else you'd like to add." which is why he's generally really good to work with.

#4: four - four has never gone after a single thing in his life other than vaati. i'm being so serious here. four can be so annoying to some people because he just plain doesn't give a shit what happens. he just rolls with it. he's like "oh we're doing [x]? lol okay" and when questioned if he has anything to say about it he's just like "nah." and that's it. if he actually feels a slight need to do something then he'll plan Around the events of [x]. which, of course, means he does nothing to stop [x] from happening! like knight makes sure to always ask four if he has something to add to whatever they're all planning because that's just what he does but four LITERALLY just goes "nah." EVERY TIME. i'm sure light finds it infuriating at certain points. however (and this is important): IN an absolutely dire, no-holds-barred, genuine clusterfuck of a situation, four can and will turn on the part of his brain that beat vaati's ass so thoroughly that it got him written down as the official legendary "hero of the four sword" whose story was canonically remembered all the way down to light's era in the child timeline. he becomes a sort of mix of light's utter drive to do shit and knight's information-gathering, planning ways, with the addition of being exceptionally good at risk analysis. everything i just said can be all but disregarded though because like i said. he just plain will not become this unless he's facing another person like vaati. you could even stick this guy in front of a giant army trying to kill him and he'd STILL be like "ehhhh who cares i'll get 'em somehow" that's literally just How Much He Rolls With Shit

[wren-kitchens]

I'd be down for listening to the actors AU thing, please tell! /gen o3o

okay a couple people asked so here you go! (it is Very Long so brace yourself lmao)

so basically in this au, empires is originally a book series, that is being made into a show (s2 isnt a part of this rn because when i came up with the idea it wasnt a thing but it might be added later idk)

hermitcraft is a long-running tv show, currently on season 8 and are sometimes filming in similar locations to the empires crew so theres a bit of crossover between them

its gonna be lizzie/joel/jimmy/scott centric because i didnt really watch anyone else lmao

the actors!

lizzie and joel: they are relatively famous actors, who have been seen in a few things, quite often but not together. they are married in real life, and when the cast for the empires show get released everyone is extremely excited because theyre both perfect for the parts and are gonna get married in the show

jimmy: not as well known beforethe casting got released - was in evo ab 5 years ago, which is getting more popular due to the empires show coming out. good friends with joel and lizzie

scott: pretty famous on account of being in too many films and tv shows to list, also good friends with joel and lizzie (and like a million other people) but has not met jimmy yet. (and is almost immediately smitten when he does cough cough)

pixl: has a youtube channel corun with zloy and lyarrah about the hermitcraft show, which all of the actors for hermitcraft know about and love - everyone is very excited when the filming locations for hc and empires cross over

plot! (in general lol)

i have no idea what any of the specifics are but i have a few bullet points for what i want to include

lizzie, jimmy, xornoth and scott all make a club for the most elaborate costumes (mainly later in the season where theyre fish gods, demons and covered in ice)

hermitcraft members also have elaborate costumes (again esp later in the season because of the whole mooner thing) and when theyre filming close together, theyll all go out for dinner in their costumes and completely baffle the regular people in the restaraunt

scott is gay panicking whenever hes around jimmy, which is chalked up to amazing acting by everyone but joel and lizzie who know exactly whats going on

by the time they act the date scene, both jimmy and scott are crushing hopelessly on each other, and it turns into one of the most emotionally charged scenes in the whole show because of this

when they travel to a beach for the 'would you still love me if i was a fish?' scene they all have a beach day

i also want to edit some of the actual plot of empires (cause thats what happens with books bein turned into tv) for instance, jimmy finds scott's body after the whole xornoth incident and its like 10x angstier and all the fans love it

anyway yeah! if i ever get round to it ill probably write a couple oneshots because thats easier than a full longfic. if anyone wants to draw/write something for it please tag me!

[careless-with-your-heart]

WIP SNIP SUNDAY! I'm Found in the Water//Fringe AU (Chapter 17)

Working on new stuff for IFitW! Here's a little snippet of the next chapter.

Chapter Seventeen – Swimming with Sharks

“Who the fuck are you?” Peter asks, his gun arm steady as he holds the Glock center mass on the slight, shorter man who stands on the other side of the hedge.

Though the man is dressed in a reasonable facsimile of a Ground Force foot patrolman uniform, Peter has had enough run-ins with law enforcement—and even an instance or two of impersonating them—that he recognizes that the cut of the cloth is about a decade old. And it only takes Peter a moment to discern that the man isn’t carrying a gun. The kid can’t be older than his mid-twenties, and there is fear in his eyes.

Astrid’s shoulder brushes Peter’s arm as she raises her own gun. “I think my friend asked you a question,” she says evenly.

“I-I-”

The kid tenses. Peter knows what’s about to happen. “Don’t. Look, we just got here, and I’m not in the mood to run. So don’t you, okay?”

“You don’t run, and we don’t have to shoot out your kneecaps from behind,” Astrid adds, deadpan.

Peter looks over at her, his eyes flaring. “Damn.”

She shrugs. “His choice.”

The other man swallows audibly and puts his hands up, his eyes darting. “My name is Oliver. I, uh, work for someone who is surveying the area. We’re, uh, private security.”

Liar, Peter thinks.

“For who?”

Astrid takes a step closer and lowers her gun to line up with Oliver’s right knee. “And be quicker answering, this time.”

Oliver stammers out, “I can’t tell you. My employer—”

Peter reaches out a hand to stop Astrid from taking another step. “Chill. Please. You’re scaring me.” At her annoyed sidelong glance, he grins, reaching up with his free hand to tap at his temple. “Let me handle this.”

***

Twenty minutes later, poor Oliver has not only spilled his guts to Peter and a very astounded Astrid, but he’s also completely forgotten that he’d caught them lurking and ousted them from their hiding place—all courtesy of one of the abilities that even Peter finds questionably moral in his own bag of mental tricks.

Now, Peter and his temporary partner are standing outside a nondescript brick building on the bad side of Red Boston. Peter had found Astrid’s moniker for his father’s home city amusing, and his laugh when she’d said it in the cab in the way over had earned him another hard glance, one in a string that she had given him when he’d refused to explain just how he’d pushed Oliver into such honesty.

“Have you done that to any of us?” Astrid whispers dramatically as they creep toward a roll-up metal door with a regular door beside it.

“No,” Peter whispers back.

She pokes him in the ribs from behind. “Did you make Lincoln ask me what my favorite color was yesterday?”

Peter shakes his head, pressing his lips together as they stop and listen outside the normal door. “No, I did not. He probably just wanted to know.”

“He wanted to know that I like blue?” she scoffs.

Peter turns to frown at her. “Astrid, that dude is back in Blue Boston right now of his own volition repainting his living room in stripes of every fucking shade of cerulean he can find. He’s going to sit in the middle of the empty fucking floor, rocking and crying until you come back and say you love him as much as he loves you. He’s hoping for a real airport-run moment where you show up at his front door, assure him that you and I haven’t had hot, adrenaline-inspired sex over here, and that he’s the only nerd for you. You’ll see his blue living room, he’ll explain that it kept you in his heart for the whole time you were apart, and you will feel so moved that you will bestow that naked time on him. Now will you please be quiet while we break into this lovely resistance headquarters?”

Astrid stares at him for a long moment.

“You’re still avoiding explaining how you can do that to people’s brains," she says, one eyebrow cocked.

(More to come!)

[curiositydooropened]

8 9 10

38 39 40

back from the grave to send these 💕🫶

You're the most beautiful ghost I've ever seen! Missed you xo

Okay, okay, okay. I'm putting a read more, because you know I can ramble.

8. How slow is a slowburn?

LISTEN. I DIE for a slowburn. Like I'm talking sloooooooow burn. Like mutual pining over years. With so many instances in which they're forced into proximity and exchange longing looks and little grazed touches here and there? The dream. The actual dream. I love it. If a couple gets together too early on, I get bored, honestly. The Office just wasn't the same after Jim and Pam actually got together.

9. Thoughts on cliffhangers.

I, also, am a sucker for a cliffhanger! I mean, come on??? It's a proven fact that it keeps you hanging on and wanting more. I just think they're a great literary device. As a lover of weekly-release television, there's nothing better than a damsel in distress tied to a train tracks just before the fade-to-black! Will he rescue her in time!?! Tune in next week!

10. Top three favorite fic tropes.

I LOVE fake relationship. Dating or marriage. It's just so juicy and wholesome and domestic. So that's one.

I think I'm realizing how much I love hurt/comfort. Like duh, of course I do. But I just never put two-and-two together until now to be like "Babe. Hello? You love a man covered in blood, but you love it better when someone's mopping him up with a tender touch." Yeaaaah.

And I don't know if this is a trope? But lately, I've been FROTHING (hahaha) for bluecollar AUs. I'm talking cowboys, I'm talking mechanics. Put a man in a boiler suit, and I want to lick him from head-to-toe.

38. "This never happened" fix-it fics or "this happened but" fix-it fics?

I love both! But I personally have too much fun playing with the canon. So I think "this happened but". Because I don't get deep into the fandom without absolutely loving the Canon. Hot take, but I think too many people in this fandom, in particular, take a lot of time shitting on the source material and its creators. And I know there's a place and time for that too. But sometimes, I just wanna be like "Dude, if you hate it that much, why are you even here?"

So I like to take what was given to me and go "Hmmmm what if this happened as a result of it though"

39. Wildest AU scenario you have written?

Well, I have about 40 WIPs in my drafts at the moment. But one of them is FBI agent!Steve x Vigilante!Reader. So I guess that's pretty wild. But I think it's fun. Maybe someday, my brain'll let me finish it.

40. Write a 9-word fic.

He wept. The blood on his hands was hers.

---

ZIGGY. Thanks so much for asking! I had so much fun answering these!!! Also hi, miss you! Hope you're well! Happy to see you pop back up on my dash every now and then. 💕

[mandaloriandy]

For the WIP game, Obi-Wan Can’t Catch A Break, Can He?

[WIP Ask Game!]

Obi-Wan Can’t Catch A Break, Can He?

a.k.a

The Star Wars AU I’m Not Gonna Write: Time Travel, the Fuckening: Darth Searah 3.0

So time travel. Wham, blam, cosmic rays, everyone gains future memories. And! There’s a bunch of people who haven’t been born yet who show up out of nowhere. “I don’t understand why we’re the same age, you died years before I did,” Sabine Wren tells Ezra Bridger, when they meet up. On Kamino, everyone has a big ole freak-out before the medics yell at everybody to shut up and start getting their control chips out (and Kix, just in case, carefully does not mention the time he spent in cryo-stasis). “Hm,” says Shmi Skywalker, when her much-older-now son shows up to kill Gardulla and free her. “Things got complicated, didn’t they?” Ani doesn’t stop hugging her, so she can feel his nod. “I have some things to tell you as well, I think…”

Obi-Wan Kenobi is an initiate. This is, to borrow a phrase of Ahsoka’s, a big yikes moment. He would probably be freaking out about it more if everyone else was freaking out about it less, but as it is, there is nobody in the temple who is not halfway to a panic attack except for maybe Vokara Che, who is grimly sedating anyone who needs sedating, and Sifo Diyas, who is pointing and laughing and saying I told you so. So Obi-Wan does what anyone (he thinks) would do: he organizes his fellow crechelings to go give their various masters a slap upside the head (or, more likely given their current stature, a stomp on the toes) until they stop freaking out and start doing things.

This is not the interesting part of the AU. Just work with me, here.

Okay. So over the next few years, things become… weirdly normal? Like, nobody is pretending that Obi-Wan et al are as young as they are. But also it is very clear to everyone that they’re all still children, and have the cognition skills and habits of children. So people go off with their various masters (with only a few minor shuffles) and start doing missions across the galaxy. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan (and Tahl and Yoda and Mace and probably a few others, for safety) swing by Tatooine, because they’re not gonna just leave Anakin there, but… well, he’s not there, and neither is Shmi. Plo Koon’s first stop is not Kamino (because trauma, and getting shot down by men you considered your family) but he goes there after he can’t find Ahsoka on Shili, and it’s just… empty. Palpatine has vanished. Great, everyone says. Now what.

Well, now problems.

The thing is, last time, by the time Obi-Wan had turned like seventeen, all of Qui-Gon’s friends were dead. They’re not, this time, and that’s wonderful (even though Obi-Wan is probably only like fifteen at this point so technically they’ve still got time.) The thing is, Qui-Gon is a maverick, and has never played by the rules, and knows how to play-by-the-rules-in-the-rules and also how to pretend. The thing is, the thing is… the thing is that when they had first started truly delving into this research, it was Dooku who had been following Qui-Gon’s lead.

It takes Obi-Wan Kenobi, oh, three months to figure this all out?

No, not quite. It takes Obi-Wan about that long to figure out that Qui-Gon is dangerously close to the edge of Falling. Unintentionally, he thinks. From trauma and sorrow and loneliness, he thinks. So he argues with the Council (he was once on the council) and they agree that he can keep trying to convince Qui-Gon not to Fall. Since technically he isn’t Fallen yet. He writes up all their mission reports, anyways, so he can just include an encrypted section with a status update on that. It’s Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu thinks. Surely he is the person best-placed to determine how safe or unsafe Qui-Gon Jinn is. Normally, he would be right, especially with a post-ANH General Kenobi. Unfortunately for him, Obi-Wan Kenobi is currently a teenager.

So a few years into this, when Obi-Wan is fifteen or sixteen, Quinlan Vos runs away. He Fell, his master says. Months later, when Obi-Wan senses a shadowed presence stalking him through the concourse of a space station, he just sighs and gets an extra cup of caf, then sits down on a bench until Quinlan just comes out and talks to him. Quinlan says that he didn’t know what to do – he’d Fallen before, and returned, but now it kept happening and he doesn’t know how to stop it. Quinlan says that he just thought he needed some time away for things to settle, but it hasn’t settled yet, and would Obi-Wan be willing to help him? Quinlan is lying out his ass about most of those things. Again, unfortunately, Obi-Wan is a teenager, and at this age he has a much harder time keeping his eyes off of Quin’s biceps than he should. (Also, well, Quinlan knows Obi-Wan, and knows that this is exactly the kind of narrative that Obi-Wan is looking for, because it’s the kind of narrative he’s desperately trying to find with Qui-Gon, had desperately tried to find with Anakin. Quinlan Vos, at this age, is a bit of an asshole.) Of Course I’ll Help You, Obi-Wan says. Let me just tell the Council– You can’t tell the Council! Quinlan says. Half of them died before the Clone Wars even started, they… I’m scared they won’t understand… he makes his eyes go wide, he bites his lip, he lowers his lashes. Okay, Obi-Wan says.

Quinlan’s not that subtle, though, so Obi-Wan figures it out in just a month or so. A month of him traveling around with Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. And learning Obi-Wan’s routine. Like, when he sends the Council updates. And what kind of things he puts in them. Oh, fuck, Obi-Wan thinks, while Quinlan has him pinned to the floor, his lightsaber clipped to Quin’s belt. Then, he thinks again. It’s not as if Quin knows any of his passwords, or his encryption keys, or his separate decryption keys. Without those, there’s no way Quin will be able to use his datapad to send the Council false updates, so they’ll realize that everything has gone south fairly quickly. Quinlan shifts Obi-Wan to a one-handed grip (damn those biceps) and, with his teeth, pulls the glove off of his free hand. Oh, fuck, psychometry, Obi-Wan thinks. Yeah, he’s kinda screwed. “Don’t tell me you’re working with Dooku,” Obi-Wan says, as scathingly as he can manage. Quinlan rolls his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m working with Skywalker.” he pauses. “I mean, Dooku’s also working with Skywalker. So. You know.” Well, Obi-Wan thinks, trying to be optimistic. If Anakin kills me then my force-ghost can go complain to Yoda, at least.

Obi-Wan has failed to ask which Skywalker is the one pulling the strings, here.

[lorebite]

Here’s one for your beautiful writing skills:

Jason and y/n are roommates. Secretly in love. HEAVY sexual attraction. Y/n is a virgin & insecure. ✨🕺🏻

Thank you, bby. 💖

Since I’ve already done two fics that include these topics separately, I thought I'd throw a wild card into the mix as well to avoid repetition. Hope you don’t mind. Also, This took me embarrassingly long to finish, so I'm sorry and thank you so much for being patient, love! 💗

Also #2, this fic very directly takes inspiration from Cops n’ Robbers by Anxious_Red (highly recommend listening to it if you’re into audio erotica and Msubs).

𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒔, 𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒅 | 𝐣𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings: 18+ minors dni. cursing. fem/afab reader. suggestive content (teasing, dirty talk (Jason loves to ramble mid-coitus), use of handcuffs, telekinetic handjob, daddy kink, finger sucking, mentions of masturbation, fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (p in v), bowstring position, very slight corruption kink). [roommate] enemies to lovers. superhero au. mentions of reader being inexperienced and insecure. friendly (?) jabs and banters. use of a silly nickname for Jason. sexually charged physical fight. praises and pet names.

Jason sat with his head hung, one hand holding a dripping bag of ice against his disheveled hair. You smiled at him from behind the bar table, mere steps away, as you tended to a customer. His eyes barely rose to meet yours, fingers wringing absentmindedly in his fringe. 

The neon purple lights cast a soft shadow over his face and the bruises spread into his skin. He winced as he shifted on his stool, tongue worming out to wet the caked blood over his torn, chapped lip. 

The bar was almost empty and yet, your ears were full of his pained complaints and fogged memories; one in particular, he kept circling back to. A certain masked vigilante whom he had fought only minutes before he stumbled through the doors of your workplace, completely out of it.

A traitorous smile struggled to split your face open as you walked back to him, tossing a towel over your shoulder before leaning forward with a palm against the edge of the bar table. 

“Hey, man, you’re doing okay over there?” 

You hooked your lip between your teeth, brows rising in a mocking show of concern. 

Jason loosened his fist on the tabletop, drawing your eyes to the aggressive flush of his knuckles and the mark – your marketched in a fresh scar to the back of his hand; a designated “V” carved with two sharp swipes of your dagger. A humiliating reminder of his loss against you. But right now, he was too dazed for the weight of it to truly sink in.

“Yeah… ‘M fine… Need a beer…” He slurred, the words barely comprehensible above the faint chatter in the bar and his own near stupor. His eyes stared vacantly ahead at the liquor shelf behind you, then his finger rose to wave aimlessly in the air. “Some o’ that.”

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t need that, Jason. I’m not carrying your deadweight ass back home. And you didn’t tell me what happened to you.” 

It took him an instance to gather his response. He was still clearly under the influence of the chemicals that knocked him out back inside the warehouse. He was being an absolute pain. If you hadn’t looked over your shoulder quickly enough, he would’ve been able to take off your mask. You had no choice. You had to put him down to protect your own identity. 

“‘S just my head.” He finally argued, albeit very weakly, and with a petulant frown of his lips.

“Does it still hurt?”

He nodded wordlessly, letting the now watered-down bag of ice fall by his hand on the wooden table. 

“Alright. I got you.”

As you picked up the plastic bag and turned for the kitchen, Jason caught your wrist. His grip was weak and his fingers immediately released you to fall back against the table when you stopped. He gave you a moue of protest.

“Don’t go.” He whined softly, almost childlike, and you resisted the urge to grin again. 

“I’ll be a second. But you have to tell me what happened, okay?”

He made a drawn out “mhm-hmm” as you finally walked to the back of the bar and inside the kitchen to grab another makeshift icepack before returning to his side. You dumped the bag on the table and heaved a sigh.

“There you go.”

A moment of silence stretched between you as Jason picked up the plastic bag and to his head, grimacing at the first touch of biting cold against his skin before relaxing into it. 

“Vex…” He mumbled, and even then, the venom in his voice was rich as he spat the name.

You, of course, knew what or who he was talking about. But to him, you were just an ordinary civilian he happened to share a roof with. And besides that, you had to pretend you didn’t know about his double life as a superhero.

“Who?”

“You know—the, um—the mark thing—the mark.” His hand waved vaguely in the air as a feigned frown of confusion tugged at your brows. He clicked his tongue in defeat, elbows spreading across the tabletop. Then, as though struck by a jolt of electricity, his arm shot in the air to show you the back of his hand and the scar upon it. “See, that’s what I’m talking about. That’s her.”

“That’s… Vex?”

He hummed lazily in agreement.

“You’re saying she roughed you up like this? She sounds pretty cool.”

He narrowed his eyes, jerking a pointer finger in your direction. “No, she doesn’t.” As if that wasn’t enough of a statement on its own, and seeing the small upturn of your lips as a challenge to himself, he stood halfway to reach over the table and fullyjab the pad of his finger at your chest. “No. She fucking. Doesn’t.”

You giggled.

“Alright. I heard you the first time.”

He plopped back down on his stool with a groan. 

“I’m gonna get her back. I swear I am.”

“Whatever you say, Jason.” 

The taunt came before you could hold from it but it didn’t shake him even slightly. If anything, he took offense to it, giving you a betrayed scowl of disbelief.  

“You don’t believe me, do you?” He narrowed his eyes again. “When I finally grab that girl by the scruff and shove her face into those fucking cameras, I’m gonna sit here and say I told you so.” His rant sunk under a brief lull before he said again quickly, “and yeah. There will be cameras.”

“So, that’s it?” Typical buzzkill, you thought to yourself. 

That was all he was planning to do if he finally caught you? You couldn’t say you were entirely surprised but you sure were disappointed. 

He didn’t respond immediately, instead he scoffed and rolled his eyes. As if you had just appalled him, questioning what he stood for. And in your own twisted way, you quite were. If he knew he was talking to Vex herself right now, this conversation would’ve turned out a lot less civil.

“Why would I turn her in right away? It ain’t no fun.”

No fun, he said. No fun. Since when your lovely little hero was turning into you?

Months of this fox and hare chase and it took just tonight to find out Jason enjoyed this as much as you did. Truly strange. But maybe after all, he wasn’t just a stereotypical self-righteous prick of a hero with a stick far up his ass. Boring? Definitely. But that sentence alone told you even his morals tiptoed on a slippery slope. Oh, how fun indeed!

“Between you and me,” Jason started after a moment of silence from you. “I kinda like her – don’t get me wrong,” he quickly attempted to remedy what he said. “She’s still a pain in my fucking ass. But fuck, I’d kill to see her face.”

A string of thoughts then queued up in his head; ones he was clearly embarrassed to put into spoken words. But he wasn’t thinking about Vex anymore. His eyes stole guilty glances at you as his next thought emerged; see your body, I wanna see your body. The shame was pure evident in the flash of dark tinge across his cheeks as he averted his eyes shyly. 

You almost choked on your own spit, the embarrassment of your own pooling in the pit of your stomach. Your heart fluttered as the thread of his thoughts wove and wove and muddied into filthier suggestions. They coiled tighter into a lustful heat, and panic burst like a spark in the back of his mind as he fought to push them away before he wasn’t able to stop his body from reacting to them anymore.

“Don’t let anybody else hear you say that.” You finally said, letting a small smirk spread across your lips.

Jason’s nightly fruitless search for you continued for weeks to come. You felt even more inclined to hide from him now. Since that night in the bar, everything began to spiral. What seemed like a stupefied, unspoken confession, became more serious, and also more tangible.

He came home every night, mind riddled with flashes of his painful bruises and weeping wounds. And they were so obnoxiously loud, they woke you in the middle of the night. You swore the man was screaming inside his own head, even as he shut the front door quietly and made his way across your tiny living room, trying his damnedest not to stir you. 

And those nights you wished more than others to have been able to turn off his thoughts. 

When he was in the confines of his bedroom, where he heaved his worn body over his small bed, it only took him minutes for it to start – what you liked to call his late night self-pity feasts; the soft rustling of the bedsheets, the harsh strokes of his fingers along his cock, and the thunderous need to cry out your name. 

No concrete wall of any density could keep away all the ways he pictured you in those private moments. And it terrified you immensely. Because you knew how quickly the switch was going to be flipped if he were to find out who you truly were.

And perhaps for another reason, too which you weren’t willing to entertain the idea of now.

You already had your hands full with keeping a low profile and scheming an elaborate plan for the perfect moment to strike. You were going to pull out all the stops, put on one hell of a show to mark Jason’s downfall and take another win to your name. And you happened to have just the occasion in mind as well.

The morning of that fateful day, a regular morning like any other; quiet above all, except for the head-spinning gush of Jason’s thoughts that passed over the small dining table to you; somewhere in the midst, his mind slowed down as his eyes began staring vacantly down at your loose-fitting shirt.

You were raking your fingers through the damp threads of your hair before the clouded look in his eyes caught your attention. His mouth moved absentmindedly, his fork sliding back and forth over his food without picking up any, and then it hit you. As you raised your steaming cup to your lips to take a sip, a foreign stream of thought that certainly didn’t belong to you.

…god, I just wanna take those tits into my mouth.

You coughed out your gulp of coffee, shoulders hitching uncontrollably as you yanked a napkin off the table to hide your mouth behind. Jesus, this fucking man! 

You wiped your mouth gingerly, avoiding Jason’s unmoving stare as his eyes followed the movement of your hands. Finally meeting his gaze, he quickly darted his focus down to his plate, shoving a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

“I’m working late today.” He mumbled, and you almost marveled at how easily that lie fell through his teeth without him choking on it. “Don’t wait up for me. I’ll have dinner at work.”

A rouge smile tugged at your lips as his “work” flashed in his head in quick bursts of colors – the national art museum and that pretentious charity gala he was going to escort the mayor to. A soft “mhm-hmm, sure.” tipped off your lips as you fought to shove down the flurry of heat rising rebelliously in your core, half of your mind still fixated on his previous untold comment. 

His mind buzzed with excitement. Electrified. He had more reason than fulfilling his duty to the city this evening; a promise you – Vex had made him long ago that he was finally going to have his fill of a proper, fair fight. Jason was confident he was going to get you tonight. How quaint!

A few hours later, you were pressing through the doors of the museum, draped in your red dress and guised by your masquerade mask. You smiled shyly at your reflection in the large windows as you made your way down along the winding hallways. This was a nice change from the constant bulk of your armor suit weighing down on your shoulders. 

However, you couldn’t help but feel quite exposed; the dress was perfectly tailored to your body, embosoming your silhouette while also leaving enough room for movement. The long slit running along the skirt rippled over your leg as you sauntered towards the ballroom, lured by the seductive tune of the string quartet. 

You fidgeted with your fingers, thieving steps behind the other guests as they eagerly walked in and blended with the flow of expensive clothes and alluring aromas. The room hummed with the chatter of unspoken thoughts inside your ears, and you listened intently for that familiar echo that told you Jason was here as well. And somewhere in the midst, you had to scold your own nagging voice of anxiety before stepping in onto the cream marble tiles. 

Your eyes shifted uneasily as did your feet, shoulders tense as every head you walked by began to feel much more like a prying eye pinned to your every movement. Voice of reason was in a constant battle with your gnawing anxiety, sending pinpricks of ice cold through your chest. I should’ve just stayed the fuck home, you thought begrudgingly, steering away from the slowly crowding floor of the ballroom as pairs of dancers joined hands for the next number.

“Red’s for sure your color, darling.”

You startled upon the familiar rasp from over your shoulder. You spun on your heels, your widened eyes meeting a pair of dark ones through a simple black mask. If it weren’t for the prideful singsong of his mind practically giving him away, that cocky quirk of his lips was a true seal on his identity.

Your eyes fell to his outstretched hand, long fingers beckoning – no, demanding – for yours. You arched a brow, gaze rising back to his questioningly. 

“Think you owe me a dance.” And a fight, his mind finished for him.

He didn’t wait for your response, stepping immediately into your space to slip his hand in yours. His other palm grazed the small of your back, warm fingers pressing gingerly against the sheathed skin. The gentleness betrayed the cold look in his eyes as he tugged you suddenly forward, and you fell clumsily against his chest with a short gasp. His lips gave a playful twitch; a faint, barely there gesture that didn’t slip from your attentive eyes.

“Nice party, isn’t it?”

The dirty drawl of his voice raised goosebumps along your arms. The balmy air of the ballroom suddenly began to feel stifling and cold. His calloused grip tightened on your waist as he moved you against himself to the music. From this distance, you could smell the sharp tang of his cologne on his pulse points as he lifted his head to stare down at you from beneath his lashes. 

The smooth skin of his neck showed through the unkempt collar of his white shirt. He was temptation itself in the rawest form. Rough. Heavy. Loud. And he was certainly no gentleman unlike what his polite television persona liked for you to believe. If the stealthy crawl of his hand trailing a path down beneath the slit of your skirt proved anything.

You smiled. “Patience, Kolchek. You don’t wanna give anyone the wrong idea, do you?”

His fingers closed around your thigh, pressing indents into the skin. His hand was so close to the holster strapped hidden underneath your dress, and you tried to not let the anxiety break upon your face.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine. I’m gonna bet if I kissed you right now, no one’s even gonna bother to turn and look over here.” 

Oh, that fucker was messing with you! None of what he spoke rang true under his mischievous tone. Not even his head stayed loyal to the words on his lips.

“Is that a challenge or a promise?”

“You know me, sweetheart. I always play hard.”

“More like make things hard – whenever it’s not necessary.”

He hummed. “That’s your job, baby. I’m sure you can even feel it right now.”

His hands tugged you forward again and surely, there it was; the firm press of something hard that you could feel through the silk of your dress. You swallowed and stole a quick glance around the ballroom. You were much farther away from the watchful eyes of the guests, hidden in the cool shadows behind the tall archways that rose high to the dome ceiling. Truly, nobody could see you. Not even the cameras turned in your direction.

“That’s just my gun,” you finally remarked, returning your eyes to his. “But nice try.”

An easy laugh spilled free from his lips, eyes twinkling dangerously. “Smart smart girl,” he lilted. “Looks like you’re not so hopeless after all.”

“You wouldn’t be hunting me down for months if I were.”

“What makes you think you get away on your own?” His voice dipped lower, almost threatening. Only the soft playful glint in his eyes doused the panic that suddenly rose in your stomach. He leaned closer, his warm breath feathering over your ear as he whispered, “what if I let you? Ever think of that, sweetheart?”

His face was back before your eyes again, his lips now only a breath apart from yours. Your pursed lips pulled into a tight smirk.

“You flatter yourself way too much.”

“Wanna test that theory then?”

Your smile broadened. “Sure.”

And for only a short few minutes, you danced in his arms, and he moved you like a loose ribbon gliding upon air. That was impressive actually. You couldn’t have even guessed this man had it in him to be any graceful. And now he was dancing you as he’s done this many times before. 

As the music slowed, he pulled you closer, noses brushing like lovers. He flashed you a boyish smile. That up to no good troublemaker smile that sent your heart plummeting to your core. It made your skin tingle with adrenaline and your cheeks with warmth.

Now was the time.

You surged forward and captured his lips against your own, spurred on by a sudden burst of confidence. His grin faltered, mouth growing slack; but he reciprocated only instances later, breathing a soft “hmm” into your mouth. His lips moved eagerly upon yours – returning kiss after kiss that only turned more passionate with each one. The tip of his tongue brushed over your lip boldly; however, you responded by releasing him without a second thought.

You wormed out of his embrace with ease as he watched you, stunned, empty arms remained in midair as though a puppet master held his strings firmly in place. Your pistol, now sitting safely back in your hand, slid right into your holster as you smiled victoriously.

And with that, you disappeared behind the crowd without another word as Jason’s eyes followed the small trail of your skirt along the ballroom floor, slithering away from him.

Another shot missed.

However, it didn’t take Jason long to find you again. His eyes sought you like a moth to the flame, tearing down the melodically entranced ballroom for that one place he could find you in. His own mind under the spell of that sudden kiss and the igniting warmth on his lips which now flooded his entire chest. 

He eventually caught you peering over the balcony underneath the alcove just a floor above the guests, your fingertips warm and leaking with thin smoke as your power sizzled beneath your skin. When his panicked gaze locked upon your mischievous one, your lips curved into a disarming grin. 

You lifted three fingers to your lips, pressing a showy kiss to their pads before blowing it in his direction, firing a sphere of flames to the floor below with it. Jason’s eyes widened, head snapping to the deafening noise of explosion immediately consuming the walls and the screams of terror within them. 

Somewhere in the heat of the incident and your own adrenaline-fueled pulse thrumming in your ears, you missed the dark brown eyes meeting yours once more, and the red hot fury flashing in those blown pupils; because you were stunned when your body jerked back against your will and landed painfully on the cold ground beneath you.  

You glanced up immediately at the familiar face hovering over yours – that angry, flushed, deliciously handsome familiar face. Despite the many times you imagined that same face smothered between your thighs, you pushed your palms against his chest and threw him back and off of you. This was a fight between Jason and Vex. There was no place for you in this. 

You shot back up to your feet, wasting no more time to make a run for it towards and out the closest exit, not stopping even as Jason yelled gruffly after you, very possibly drawing attention to himself – and consequently, you.

You dodged past the coming influx of frightened guests, ears ringing with their screams and alarmed thoughts. The threatening glow of your palms, bearing a pair of burning orbs, scared away anyone who attempted to stop you upon Jason’s loud demands for them to hold you off. Though none also managed to stop the taunts from falling over your lips.

“You wanna burn? Fucking move!”

You were out of the ballroom now, scurrying past and away from the cameras which had surely broadcasted the entire havoc unfolding. Through the tall, yet tight hallways, there was only you and the reverberation of Jason’s heels hot on your tail. And soon, it became the soft humming of air tearing away for your meteoric feet as you ran, high off of your powers.  

Jason had but abandoned all care for the encased relics as soon as you made it into the deserted atrium, firing shot after shot at you. Each breezed past your head like a kindled cannonball, but none of them even came close to touching you. However, you could still feel their danegrous heat licking at your skin as you dodged them skillfully.

With the short ceiling above you, it was a certain trouble for Jason to hop off his feet and fly the remaining distance to catch up with you. But you still looked over your shoulder, only briefly, to fire your own shots at him in an attempt to slow him downfurther. Jason ducked his head, an arm shielding his eyes, cursing as the glass cases propped against the walls burst into shards and flew over his face. 

Your attempts didn’t deter him even slightly. His angrily contorted face appeared again from below his arm, now blemished with splotches of blood from the shrapnel, eyes narrowed and still ever determined. You cursed under your breath and turned back around.

“Emergency exit, emergency exit, emergency exit!” You chanted under your breath, eyes frantically darting from corner to corner. “Gotcha!”

You slammed shoulder first into the heavy metal door and stumbled through. Catching your breath for a second, you then began to descend the spiral of stairs. Soon enough, you heard the door thud shut above you and you slapped a fist against the handrail with a snarl.

You finally made it out to the parking lot. Now surrounded by the labyrinthine clusters of cars, you were certain you have won this. It was evident from Jason’s distant thoughts that resounded like a faint wind chime under your ears. But just to make sure, you stopped momentarily to lean against a car and listen for the direction they were headed to.

Though your legs were, yet to tire, your brain had gone haywire from the adrenaline, heart pounding painfully in your chest. Jason’s surprise attack had thrown you for a loop. You could still feel the too close for comfort of his fiery shots against your arms. That was close, you thought. So fucking close.

You pushed off of the car and back to your feet after your rapid pulse calmed down enough, but you flinched as a car alarm blared through the parking lot. You quickly distanced yourself, trying to hide in the safety of the darkness as you hissed under your breath. But another car immediately joined in the cacophony. Then another and another, until the previously quiet space was shaking with the noise.

“Fuck. You really make a man sweat for it, don’t you?” Jason’s breathless voice came from behind you and you whipped around to find him within your arm’s length. All the loud background noise had muffled out his thoughts.

You grumbled before taking off in the opposite direction, suddenly noticing the open air in the distance you hadn’t seen until then. The sight spurred you on with more determination, fueling your legs to go faster. Jason was far behind you now and you were mere steps from getting away. 

But then you began to skid along the concrete ground, a string of breathless “fuckfuckfuck” rushing through your teeth as you finally stopped right at the edge of the building. You were somehow tens of feet in the air, and you almost ran yourself off the roof. 

“It would’ve been funny if you hit that wall.” You heard Jason from behind you again.

The lucid skyline quivered like a ripple in calm water, and the pale wall slowly morphed back to reality. That was just one of his infamous illusions. Of course. Of fucking course. Your chest heaved with an exasperated sigh. How the fuck did you still manage to fall for that?

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” He said melodiously as you turned around to face him with a roll of your eyes.

“That’s my line.”

He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket anymore, his masquerade mask also having long been discarded; lips not shy to make a show of his smug grin as he strutted with overt confidence towards you. His handsome face still glowed underneath all the fresh scars. His two-sizes-too-small white shirt clung to his body like a second skin, buttons gaping on his chest, biceps practically bulging through the thin fabric. Vain motherfucker, you thought, irked.

Jason pulled at his already loose black tie and yanked the slip of fabric off with a swift move of his fingers before tossing it to the ground. 

“Care for a civil conversation this time ‘round, Vex? No more fucking running.”

“With handcuffs?” You gestured lazily at the menacing glint of metal dangling from his belt. Your eyes followed the movement of his arms as he undid his sleeves and rolled them up to the crook of his elbows. Throwing a thumb over your shoulder, you continued, “and those fucking cameras? You have a funny idea of civil.” 

His hands rest upon his hips, fringe disheveled and cheeks flushed, yet his lips were quirked in that shit-eating grin that prodded at your already growing frustration.  

“That’s just for formality’s sake. You know that.”

“Well, I know I’m not an idiot. I can sniff an attention whore before I see one. So, yeah,” you giggled at the irritated twitch of his brow and the slow drop of his face. “You can act like a sweet little hero with a pure heart for them but I don’t buy that shit for even one second.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No, I guess I don’t. But you give enough away on your own.”

Jason’s chin lowered, narrowed eyes burning holes into your face. His jaw went slack, tongue rolling uneasily inside his mouth as he tried to bite down his words. He was wrestling with his thoughts – torn between attempts to shove them down and flare of heated emotions snapping like electricity sparks.

“Why don’t you take off your mask so we level with each other?” He started slowly. “After all this time, I think it’s only fair.”

You stood very still, shoulders suddenly stiff. An unpleasant warmth clawed its way down your body as Jason once again began walking towards you. You couldn’t let him see your face. You’d be done for if you did.

“Who said anything about being fair?”

You flipped your wrist, palm facing skyward, your fingers curled in as the surge of power seeped from the lines of your hand. Jerking your arm at a nearby vehicle, a van lifted off its wheels before you threw it in Jason’s direction. He jumped back in time for the hurtling van to ram into the cars behind him. As he landed back on his feet, you saw his next course of movements before he even made them.

He charged at you, hands glowing with bright green flames. An arm aimed for your face, straight as a spear, and you ducked your head to have his fist pound against the wall instead. He turned with a sneer and before he could so much as lift a finger, you raised your palm and forced him up the wall.

He writhed against your invisible hold, kicking his feet as you wrung your fingers and a pained grunt ripped through his lips. He reached a hand to you, fingers grabbing futilely at your face in an attempt to pull off your mask. You slapped away his hand and clicked your tongue.

“What a fucking pushover.”

With a small flick of your wrist, Jason was thrown across the floor. He stood back to his feet with a groan, and not sparing you another moment, he charged at you again.

You easily dodged his flying punches, seeing each of their directions in his mind before the eventual blows. A sly smile tugged at your lips, body fluidly sifting through hit after hit without a break of sweat on your brow. Jason, on the other hand, was exhausted. Face slick with sweat and teeth bared through a snarl, his confident grunts had faltered into angry huffs of breath.

“You motherfucker!” He cried out as you evaded, yet another thrust of his persistent fist.

You chuckled, watching him stagger a few steps away from you. His chest rose and fell heavily, fingers tightening into white-knuckling fists. He glared at you, beads of sweat rushing down the side of his face as he sneered.

“Oh, don’t be such a sourpuss.” You grinned. “You live and learn, dumpling.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” He growled with a raise of his brows, jerking a forefinger in your direction.

“Or what? You’re gonna kick my ass?”

Your voice, suddenly, echoed right back to you as though you were standing inside an empty chamber. A faint smirk began dancing across Jason’s lips as you rolled your eyes.

“That’s not funny.” You said sternly and you were responded by your own echo again. “Hey! Get off it.”

The echo came louder this time, now a chorus of identical voices striking from different sides. And it hit you like a stormy wave, flinging you backward against the wall, knocking the air out of your throat. 

“Jesus!” You croaked, catching your breath. “You’re such a sore loser. Fine. If I let you punch me, will that gonna make you feel better about your weak little ego?”

You were being sarcastic. Obviously. But Jason was already striding back towards you, fist tight and ready to punch a bruise anywhere he could get his knuckles to land upon. You barely had time to react before he was too close. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll save your pretty face.” He said through teeth before his fist dug into your ribs. 

You keeled over, clutching your stomach as you groaned. “Fucking hell! Don’t hold back or anything.” 

You straightened yourself back up just in time for another punch to fly towards your face. You moved your head immediately and the blow breezed past your ear and against the wall instead. Again. Jason’s nostrils flared as he glowered at you, keeping his close proximity with your body. 

He was warm, his face close. His legs were tangled between yours, allowing you no room to escape. He was going to take off your mask. Your eyes grew wide and you began struggling against him. He pushed away your flaying arms as you tried and failed to force him back. He didn’t give you enough time to train your palm on his chest and channel your powers against him again.

“Stop squirming.” He spat.

“Fuck off!”

He grumbled under his breath and caught your hostile wrist harshly in one hand, lifting the other to the hem of your mask beneath your eyes. You wriggled your neck frantically.

“No, no, no, no!”

“You know, now that I think about it, you sound very familiar.”

With a swift tug, he peeled the mask off of your face. The sharp complacent look in his eyes turned confused as his forehead creased with a frown, his grip loosening around your wrist.

“Well, fuck me. Look what the cat dragged in.” His lips slowly gave in to a smirk as he cocked his head. “You cheeky motherfucker. This entire time?”

You swallowed, cheeks stinging with heat as you sucked your lip between your teeth. Jason’s eyes suddenly blew wide, face becoming sickly and pale.

“This entire time?” He asked again, more urgent and forceful this time.

“You need a fucking answer for that?” 

He remained quiet after that. The stream of his thoughts became turbulent once again. He wanted to ask whether you’ve been reading his mind since you moved in with him but he already knew the answer. And yet, he was scared of the confirmation that could come from your mouth. So, you only rolled your eyes at him, deciding that was going to be a good enough answer for him.

Jason’s scowl returned to his face, the short-lived softness quickly and far gone. He took the handcuffs from his belt and held them up to your face.

“Let’s do this nice and easy and no one’s feelings get hurt, alright?”

Feelings. Yeah. Okay.

“You’re embarrassingly mild.” You scoffed.

“I can be rough,” he briefly raised his glimmering eyes to yours to flash you a smirk before he spun you around. The cold metal of the cuffs grazed your skin before they fastened around your wrists. His mouth ghosted over the shell of your ear, his warm breath rousing goosebumps on the back of your neck. “Since you had your fun inside my head, you should know how I imagine you.”

Your mouth hung ajar and Jason breathed out a low chuckle into your ear before leaning away, pulling at your restraints to turn you back around.

“So, what now? Are you gonna take me down to your little friends and claim your I have a big dick badge?”

A smile toyed coyly on his lips but he immediately frowned and clenched his teeth in order to smother it. He tugged forcefully at your wrists and you winced as the sharp metal ridges bit into your skin.

“I will consider that if you don’t shut up.”

You shifted uncomfortably on the dining chair, the wooden cushion offering no relief for the loss of feeling in your behind. The television murmured behind you in the living room, muffled by the ringing of clatters from the kitchen. You were only able to catch snippets of tonight’s incident – the chaos that you had caused.  

Jason walked out with a bottle of beer, socked feet dragging along the carpeted floor as he ran his fingers through his hair before sprawling down on the couch in front of you. He was in his pajamas now, unlike you who was still very much wearing your dress. The thin silky fabric tugged at your skin the more you moved and it made you itchy in places you didn’t know was possible. And what was worse – it made you feel even more vulnerable under Jason’s scrutinizing eyes.  

“Are you gonna have me sit here like some kinda fucking trophy?” You complained bitterly, eyeing the tinted bottle flip upside down as he tossed his head back to take a swig.

He met your eyes with a raise of his brow, lowering the rim of the bottle to show you his glistening lips curled into a mischievous smile. You huffed irritatedly. 

“Well, I am enjoying the view,” his eyes slowly wandered down your form as he hooked his tongue inside his cheek. It was as if that small gesture ignited a fire beneath you, giving you an urge to squirm. “I’d be stupid if I didn’t milk it as much as I could. Think I’ve earned it.”

You scoffed, shaking your head before mumbling lamely, “this is so dumb.”

“What was that?”

You stomped your foot. “I said I want some of that ice cream we bought the other day.”

Jason rolled his eyes before he was up and back in the kitchen. He returned with the pint of ice cream and sat back down on the couch. You stared at him expectantly and he heaved an exasperated sigh.

“I swear, if you start moaning at me again—”

“Then how the hell am I supposed to eat that?”

His playful smile crept back to his face as he spread his knees. His hand snuck between your legs and gripped the edge of the chair before pulling you towards himself. You gasped, heart sinking to your core as you nestled between Jason’s thighs. He stared up at you with that panty-dropping crooked smile.

“I’ll feed you. Stop your huffing and puffing.”

He speared the ice cream with a spoon before holding up the spoonful before your lips. Your eyes shifted hesitantly between the bite of sweet coldness and his eyes. He wiggled the silverware, urging you to open your mouth. So, you did. However, as you leaned forward to take it into your mouth, Jason pulled back his hand and the bite disappeared into his own mouth instead.

“Assface.”

“Sweetheart, you love this face.”

“And what gave you that idea?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he abandoned the spoon by his side to dig into the pint with a finger. His coated fingertip emerged and he held the sweet chunk before your slack mouth again. You scowled at him.

“Well, I’m no Vex,” a sudden grin split open his lips at the mention of the name, “but I know one thing for sure; and that is your eyes speak more than that smart mouth does.”

You watched the ice cream slowly melt on his finger, a sticky sweet trail rushing down its length. Your mouth watered at the thought of taking it onto your tongue and sucking it clean.

“Am I wrong?”

Your eyes shot back to his, cheeks flooding with warmth. “What?” You breathed out.

“You have a pretty animated face. I don’t think you even realize it. Like how even right now, you’re looking at me like I’m a pint of ice cream.”

You snorted. “I’m not.”

A toothy smile began fighting its way to your lips and you had to suck them into your mouth to hold from giving yourself away. You were glad – no, ecstatic that Jason couldn’t read your mind; because that simple statement managed to unplug a whirlwind of thoughts you were trying your damnedest to suppress. 

He pulled back his hand again, bringing his finger to his tongue that had now slithered through his lips to lap a long stripe at its length, his sharp eyes not once leaving yours. He pumped his finger into his mouth once before releasing it soundlessly, a thread of saliva trailing from his lips. Fuck. Why was that so hot?

“Want a little taste, sweetheart?”

Your lips fluttered hopelessly, words scratching the walls of your throat without managing their way out. Blood rushed straight to your face, hard rapid pulse ringing in your ears. He dipped two fingers this time in the pint and scooped out a larger piecebetween them. This once, you didn’t hesitate to open your mouth and take his finger.

As his fingers wormed onto your tongue, your eyes fluttered shut upon the immediate coldness filling up your mouth. It quickly gave way to the warmth of his skin melting the sweetness and running it down your throat.

An image flickered behind your eyes then. One you were certain your mind hadn’t conjured up for you. But it was becoming more vivid the more your tongue curled and uncurled around Jason’s fingers. It was way past due time for you to let it go but you couldn’t bring yourself to. And the blurred mess of colors before your eyes has now become too compelling to ignore. 

You were suddenly in Jason’s bedroom, the crammed space blanketed in darkness besides the sliver of moonlight filtering through the thin curtain of his window showering down upon his bed. He was lying awake underneath the duvet, the fabric rustling with the rapid movement of his hand beneath it. His head was thrown back against the pillow, his thin shirt ridden up to his ribs. 

He sighed shakily, his strong shoulders lifting off of the mattress as he came, a hand plastering over his mouth to muffle the sudden string of moans that flowed freely from his lips. When his arm fell limp back on the bed, weak whimpers of your name began falling through his quivering lips. 

You could see the trembling of his thighs as his hand slowed down. His body twitching, his firm touch softening only steadily around his sensitive cock.  

Your core clenched around air, knees knocking against something as you tried to close them once more. Then you suddenly remembered; eyes opening wide, they peered right back into Jason’s who was still sitting on the couch before you, his legs encaging yours. 

“Enjoyed the show?”

You swallowed, briefly stunned into silence with the sudden immense heat flooding between your legs. You blinked slowly and tried to gather your wit.

“Looks like you enjoyed it more than I did.” You motioned your head at the bold outline of his bulge through his sweatpants. The struggle snapped like a rubber band in his head as he tried to push away the incoming surge of all the ways he imagined you on that very same night he’d just shown you. A teasing, more confident smile curved your mouth. “I can still hear you.”

“Okay. Maybe I want you to.” He said with a defensive shift of his shoulders. And with that, the storm of his thoughts flickered back to life.

It made your head spin. The way it always did whenever you were in Jason’s proximity. But this time you could feel them, too. Like white hot sparks that flared in your stomach, making your heart stutter as the voice inside his head grew bolder. You could hear him chant over and over – I need you; I need you right now.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you breathed out, averting your eyes to the floor. “If there’s one thing you shouldn’t be saying to me right now—”

He interrupted, “why? It’s not a rule that we can’t fuck just cos we’re working for different sides.”

You choked on your spit at the casual drop of the word “fuck” off his tongue, eyes going wide as you shook your head fervently.

“No.” You spat immediately and the previously carefree look on Jason’s face contorted into one of hurt before it quickly softened again.

“Can I ask why?”

“Because… because…” 

His eyebrows rose high on his forehead as you stammered to find a response, but it was evident he wasn’t trying to rush you into a justification. He only wanted to know if you liked him, too. You sighed, shaking your head slowly before hanging your head.

“I do like you, Jason.” You finally said. Your confession was followed by his silence even though his head became bright and full with relief. You continued, “it’s just–it’s–I don’t know, man. It’s stupid,” you quickly back pedaled, “well, it’s not stupid. Right. But I’m not exactly experienced. I’ve never been with anybody—”

An incredulous scowl shadowed over his face as he interrupted you again, “you’re a super villain.”

“So?” You snapped, embarrassment stinging your cheeks. “Not all of us live up to the stereotypes of their people, okay?”

Jason’s head inclined slowly as his eyes shifted back and forth between yours, cheeks bearing a rosy tinge of shame, though his features remained stoic. It wasn’t any mocking thought making its rounds inside his head. No. It was far far worse. He was already picturing you on your back; his cock buried to the hilt inside your pussy, and making your tight little hole clench deliciously around his thick length. 

Your breath locked in your throat, escaping in uneven releases through your parted lips. It was as if he was teasing you without even touching you – unsaid filthy suggestions you wished to hear straight from his mouth, knowing fully well how his sharp tongue was going to make you burn and twist. In more ways than one.

The words struggled to leave your lips the longer you sat in quiet and listened to the accension of Jason’s arousal. It didn’t seem as though he was going to be the first one to break the silence, and this only made you feel compelled to carry on further. 

“And, uh—I’m not exactly, like, the most confident person out there. So—” The end of your word tapered off slowly as your eyes returned to his. “There’s that.”

A small frown drew Jason’s brows closer as his head fell in a slow nod.

“Let’s unpack what you just said. You think you don’t look good?” His finger jerked towards your chest in an almost accusatory manner. As if you had just done the most questionable thing. Even more questionable than the scene you had caused only hours ago. “I heard a lot of crazy shit tonight but this one just takes the fucking cake.”

“Look, I appreciate the vote of confidence—”

“You’re sitting in front of me, looking like that, and you dare fucking tell me you don’t look good?” His scowl deepened. “It’s that fucking suit, I’m telling you – it hides every-fucking-thing on your body.”

“Exactly the whole point.” You fired back, offended. “Because it’s practical that way. I don’t need it to look cool for the cameras like you, dipshit.”

“Listen; you gotta cut yourself some slack, sweetheart. I ain’t gonna magically fix that little problem in there,” he tapped his finger gently to your chest for indication. “But I’ll be straight with you and tell you this; if any motherfucker tries to start shit with you and say you ain’t worth it just cos of how you look, you get your cute ass up and sucker punch them in their sorry looking face – or however it is you like to deal with me when I’m on your ass about shit.”

You laughed softly, lips giving into a sincere smile for the first time this evening. Jason’s face reflected the joyful light upon yours, eyes softening with adoration. 

“There’s that pretty smile.” He crooned, and it only fueled the pleasant heat filling up your chest. “And you do look good for the cameras, by the way. That armor suit is one of the best ones ‘round here. Looks pretty fucking badass. ‘S bulky and shit but still. Makes you look a bit mean, too, which I bet you like hearing that.”

You scoffed a bashful laugh, averting your eyes.

“For what it’s worth, I still wanna see what you look like underneath all that. Just to make things clear.”

You gave a small nod. Your face might as well have been on fire even though you fought hard to not let the dizzying shame show upon it.

“Yeah… you made things… very clear.”

He stared at you. Silently. Not even his thoughts could help ease the mounting tension between you at this point. Finally, after what felt like minutes of quiet, Jason scoffed, defeated.

“Is that all you got for me?”

“What do you even want me to say?”

“Man, you’re awkward as fuck for a super villain.” He grinned, voice bubbling with laughter. “It’s kinda cute; you. The kickass Vex. You turn this whole fucking city on its head and you get all shy and nervous when a guy like me, a hero, says you look hot.”

“Fuck you, Jason. You just had to ruin it, didn’t you?” You chastised him meekly, though a fond smile still lingered on your lips. A teasing smirk quirked his own.

“Why don’t you fuck me yourself, hmm?”

You took that as an invitation, spreading your fingers above the restraints around your wrists, feeling the rush of power leak from your fingertips. It cloaked your body like a thin veil, and before Jason could open his mouth to ask what you were doing, his body jostled forward involuntarily, his lips landing firmly upon yours. 

A soft noise of surprise caught in his throat as his hands caught around your thighs for purchase, the stiffness in his shoulders slowly melting with a content sigh. His fingers pressed tightly into the dress and the fabric squeaked under the pressure. A gasp flitted through your mouth at the dull ache of your thighs underneath his nails.

The kiss was simple, yet adoring. Jason’s lips moved cautiously against yours despite how passionately molten and enthusiastic your kiss back inside the ballroom had been. He was being careful with you; taking it slow and easy to let you adjust to him of your own accord. 

His palm rose to hold the side of your face as he tilted his head slightly. His tongue lapped coyly at your lip. Just a light stroke. Subtle but noticeable, and it made your breath knot in your chest. You pulled back with eyes still closed, air skipping sharply past your lips. The handcuffs rattled against your wrists as you wiggled them.

“Come on, untie me.”

Jason’s response was to silence you with another kiss as a playful but disapproving hum rumbled in his throat.

“Not happening. Remember, you’re still in trouble—” your short, annoyed huff of breath cut into his voice before he continued, “—doesn’t matter how cute you are. Your ass is getting a spanking for being such a naughty naughty girl.”   

His hand came down to slap lightly against your thigh as a smirk curled the corner of his mouth. You gave a one shoulder shrug, your own lips reflecting the upturn of his.

“Then I don’t need to tell you, for that to happen, you kinda still need to untie me.”

“Nice try, smartass. But I appreciate the effort.”

He leaned in close, mouth parted and only a hair breadth apart from claiming yours. His eyes sunk to the swollen flush of your lips.

“Think you can keep up with me if I up the speed a bit?” His voice came low, challenging. 

His heated breaths brushing over your lips were inviting you, daring you to succumb. He had slipped back into his competitive self again. He understood you well; knowing only that could bring the cutthroat, courageous side of you to come out and play with him. 

“Do your fucking worst.”

And his lips were back upon yours once again. Rough and demanding, Jason’s soft moans leaving him more freely now. His hand held the side of your neck as he smiled into the kiss.

“You look sexy as hell tied up like this. I should try gagging that filthy mouth, too.”

“I swear to god—”

Your threat was cut short as he bit your lip and you gasped loudly. He breathed out a chuckle.

“You’re so cute when you’re trying to act all tough with me. Fuck.” His growl made you shudder. ”It makes me wanna eat you right up.”

The veil of power began circling you again with a small movement of your wrist, the invisible halo buzzing with intensity and it struck Jason forcefully. A sharp exhale fled through his mouth as his body gave a jump and a groan vibrated in his chest.

“Fuuuck.” He whined quietly. “How the hell did you do that?”

You could feel the swirl of heat weaving through his thoughts. Head pinned to the brimming focus of the sudden spike in his heartbeat. His breaths came short and uneven. Your firm, yet unseen hold pawed at him between his legs; the grip of warmth clinging tightly around him. His knees nudged against yours as his thighs twitched aimlessly. The flimsy cage of his legs surrounding yours slowly falling apart, and you clenched your fingers to send him another jolt of shock.

He moaned shamelessly, the movement of his lips upon yours faltering as he tipped his head back with his eyes still closed. 

“You little devil. You dirty fucking little devil.”

His complaint was futile, though. None of his powers could hold your probing touch back, albeit guised in merely unseen swallows; the carnal sensation was very much present. If it weren’t for the rapid spiral of his thoughts which practically thrummed along to his heartbeats, the twisted contours of his face were a dead giveaway of his mounting arousal.

“Should I stop?” You said, briefly halting the flow of your powers. The sudden vacancy caused Jason to topple backward, as if he was repelled by another force. 

“No.” He said immediately. “Keep touching me. Please.”

And he was drawn back to you upon the return of the powerful veil that embraced you. Jason shifted his thighs, hands gripping onto the edge of the couch as his head lolled back on his shoulders. A stifled groan tore through his lips before he sucked them into his mouth. 

It was unfair, though. You wanted to touch him. Actually, truly touch him. And all these layers covering your bodies were very well in the way of that. What else – Jason had completely taken his hands off of you to claw at the firm cushion beneath him. The small offer of touch he’s been giving you only instances ago lost to his own rising need for release. 

So, you stopped again, and the force drove him back against the backrest. His lidded eyes finally bore into yours, chest heaving as his lips remained agape but quiet. You could hear the pleas and the noises that failed to break past them, nipped into silence before any managed to completely form. 

“Why did you stop?” He almost whined. 

“You give and you take, dumpling. That’s how it works.”

His eyes immediately narrowed into slits upon the mention of the nickname. “Don’t call me that.” He said quietly, voice low and gritty. It woke goosebumps on the back of your neck.

You grinned. “Stop me if it bothers you so much.”

“I should bend you over my knees and spank you just for that fucking attitude.”

“Oh, we both know you’re all talk, Jason.”

He bounced forward, hands outstretched and with intention to grab you, but you flicked your wrists again to let your powers take a hold of him. He stopped completely, arms falling limp down to his thighs as a loud moan escaped him. 

You didn’t relent this time, quickening the invisible grip around his cock before it gave him a chance to collect himself. He reclined against the backrest again, arching his back as he fisted your knees with urgency. 

“Oh, my god. Fuckfuckfuck! Slow down. Slow down. You’re gonna make me cum if you keep—” His words waned into a loud gasp before he cried out when you refused him. “(Y/N)! Please!”

You giggled as you finally stopped and Jason let out a drawn-out moan, sucking in long calming gulps of air. His fingers loosened around your knees as his posture turned straighter, the rise and fall of his chest slowly steadying. 

When he met your gaze again, his eyes were lidded with desire and held a daring glint within them. Your lips hung ajar, trembling wordlessly. This time, you didn’t stop him as he surged forward to capture your lips against his own, so roughly he managed to push your chair sliding back across the carpet. You whimpered against the warmth of his mouth, muscles tensing until Jason took hold of your thighs again. 

“I can think of something you can call me, sweetheart,” he whispered in between kisses. “If Jason’s too much for you, Daddy should cut it.”

You could only moan in response, your core enlivened with a shock of heat at the sound of Jason calling himself that of all things.

“Go ahead, baby. Let me hear you say it.”

You bit your trembling lip. “Daddy…”

“Atta girl.”

His lips left yours to travel down along the side of your neck, teeth teasing the sensitive skin. His kisses were feverish and consuming. Growling filthy promises under your ear, paired with the flurry of images running rampant inside his head, he easily managed to coax a trail of desperate moans through your clenched teeth.

He hummed. You could practically hear the cocky smile in that soft throaty sound that vibrated against your skin, tickling your ear. Your fingers ached to dig into his strong shoulders, but they only furled and unfurled helplessly behind you as Jason’s rogue ones sought the heat between your thighs.

Air hitched in your chest as the warmth of his fingers just barely caressed your cunt over the fabric of your dress. You didn’t mean to squirm, absolutely didn’t want to. But anticipation bubbled deep within you; from every kiss he pressed to your skin to every word he breathed against your ear, you were whelmed with need, and every bit of you was sensitive to his touch; your body only responding to him the best way it knew how.

Your head fell back, lips parting to free a breathless moan as Jason palmed you, the heel of his hand gently pressing onto your clothed clit, his mouth continuing the spiral of wet kisses down your neck – now descending to the strap of your dress sitting right in the soft slope of your shoulder. 

His teeth hooked beneath the crimson-colored band, pulling it up and then releasing it playfully, letting it snap back against your skin. You huffed a laugh, feeling Jason’s mouth also tug into a smile on the curve of your shoulder.

He moved his hand more persistently on your cunt, fingers sliding between your folds from on top of your panties, prodding in ever so slightly. You gasped and writhed, skin prickling with goosebumps as Jason chuckled under your ear – lips now sucking your earlobe between them. 

“You want my finger deep inside your pretty pussy, baby? Can I fuck you like that? Make you cum all over my fucking hand. Fuck. You’re so wet for me already.”

“Shit. Yes, Jason. Please. Just fucking do it.”

“Wrong, baby.” He growled, dark and menacing. 

Fuck. “Sorry—I’m sorry. Daddy. Please, I need it.”

He hummed vaguely against your ear, the tip of his finger slowly slithering into you. You gasped a moan, shoulders lifting off into the air. His finger – that single long, thick digit buried knuckle deep inside you, brimmed you deliciously, making your walls sting and stretch. 

His hand began a lazy rhythm, pumping in and out of you steadily, curling his finger every now and again to hook over that sweet spongy bit of flesh inside you. You’ve touched yourself before, but this was truly different. Jason could make you whimper with only one finger, fill you wholly and completely, barely leaving room for a second one.

Your pussy burned in protest as the pad of another finger began toying with your already full entrance. Jason pried carefully, listening for the slight hitch in your breath as he slipped his finger in bit by bit. The stinging warmth soon gave way for pleasure as both fingers curled once inside you. Then twice and once more; and his pace has already picked up, the rough pad of his thumb coming to sit against your swollen clit as well.

The sounds breaking past your lips were bold and loud now, hanging above the room and the obscene wet noises between your thighs, filtering through the gentle buzzing of the television behind you. Jason’s mouth was pressed to the side of your face, breathing heavily against the shell of your ear.

“You feel good, baby, don’t you?” He smiled at the immediate moan that slipped off your tongue. “Oh, I bet you do. If my fingers feel this nice, imagine my cock, hmm? You want me to fuck you? You want me to fill you up—” You nodded fervently; lip bruised under your teeth. “—I need a yes, sweetheart. I need you to tell me you want me to give it to you.”

“I want it, yes. Just fuck me. Please.”

He cooed, almost mockingly. “My needy baby girl wants my cock inside her? My hard ass sweet little villain. So fucking perfect for me,” his voice swooped deeper, riding on a single-note rough rumble in the back of his throat as he continued, “God, I wanna fucking ruin you!”

Your breath stuttered, goosebumps breaking upon your skin. Jason’s free hand pressed onto your thigh, kneading the soft flesh between his long fingers. His tongue wormed out to lap along your face, tracing a long slow line against your jawline before his teeth nipped playfully at the skin. 

Your hands shifted involuntarily behind your back, the need to touch him burning on the tip of your fingers. A whine toyed upon your lips, body twitching against your will.

“Wanna—I wanna touch you, too.” You writhed helplessly against your bounds. “Can I please? Ca–can I?”

The finger Jason had resting idly against your clit began moving in slow wide circles around your cunt, tracing a halo of warmth that steered clear of the flushed bundle. You swallowed back the noises threatening to spill again, fists closing tight around air. 

“Please, Daddy?” You asked sweetly, and from the small halt in the rapid rush of his thoughts, you knew you managed to get through to him. 

Though, nevertheless, he continued the exploit of his torturous hand upon you wordlessly, drawing loose circles around and away from your clit. Your hips twitched instinctively, futilely bucking into his touch for a more fruitful friction, but it only made him pull away.

“If you think this is gonna be easy for you,” he clicked his tongue, pulling his face along the side of your cheek, offering you a generous feel of his stubble against your skin. “Spoilers, darling; not happening. You’re gonna pay for being a cheater,” his palm landed against your thigh. Hard enough to leave a dull sting in its wake. “And you’re gonna pay for being a fucking troublemaker.” His hand grazed your skin again, the impact coming harsher this time. “So, you better behave yourself, pretty girl. I can play nice or,” his chin lowered and his lidded eyes, now peering into yours, glimmered dangerously. “I can be real fucking rough. And you know damn well how badly I wanna stretch your tight little pussy with my thick cock.”

Your chest heaved with a wavering sigh, body fighting against the shiver rushing down your back. You only managed a pathetic whimper to which Jason grinned at; the innocence of his dimpled cheeks an uncanny contrast to the mischievous glint in his eyes. 

He lifted his glistening fingers to his mouth, eager tongue taking in the wet taste of your arousal. A satisfied groan fled him, the deep sound vibrating pleasantly in your chest and cutting through to your bones. 

His thoughts – such deliciously filthy thoughts that continued to surprise and delight you the more this night went on – they swirled like a thick smoke inside his head; all for me. All wet and sweet just for me.

“I just gotta taste you, baby.” He said breathlessly. 

He slid your chair back then, only slightly, to leave a gap where he could kneel between your spread knees. He looked up at you; eyes bright and round beneath the cheap florescent light. His hands curled around your calves, cheeks flushed, kiss-swollen lip rolled back between his teeth. 

“You let me do it? Wanna get you to make a mess all over my fucking face, sweetheart. I’m dying to get a taste of your perfect pussy.”

“Please… yes.”

“What a good girl,” he crooned. His fingers crawled up your legs to find the band of your panties before pulling them down slowly. “What a good fucking girl for me.”

His face buried beneath the skirt of your dress, his warm mouth hovering so close to where you needed him most. When his tongue finally claimed you, your back arched before you could hold from it, lips parting into a silent moan. 

He groaned against you, mouth cupping around your yearning bud more boldly, sucking it harshly between his lips. His one hand gripped at your leg, fingers bruisingly tight, another returning between your soaked folds. His tongue fluttered rapidly along your sopping cunt, his breathless whine hitching with the brisk movement. 

He plunged two thick fingers inside you again, coaxing a high-pitched gasp through your teeth as he quickly furled their lengths into you repeatedly; pace fast and unforgiving in pursuit of your orgasm. And the high was coming so quickly to you, goaded further by Jason’s growly demands against your pussy.

“Come on, pretty girl. Cum for me. You can fucking do it. You wanna cum for Daddy, right, baby? Good girl. Good fucking girl.”

Mere instances later, you cried out his name as blinding pleasure enveloped your senses, white flashes flaring across your vision. Jason worked you through your orgasm, mouth still clinging persistently to your spent cunt. You squirmed and whimpered your protest, thighs shifting around his broad shoulders. 

“Mmm, ‘s sensitive.” 

He finally heeded and pried his mouth off of you, chin wet and glistening with your arousal. His lips were pulled into a wolfish grin, eyes twinkling with an unsatiated need that made your core clench with desire again despite how soon ago you have just come. 

“Fuck. You sound so damn pretty, you know that?” His eyes softened then, head tilting to the side with a questioning look roiling the previous lust within them. “You still wanna do this with me? I know I said all that—” he made a lazy wave of his fingers in the air, “—but you don’t gotta just cos I said so.”

“Jason, stop talking, please. I need you to fuck me right now.”

His glowing smile returned to his face before he nodded quickly, rising on his knees enough to pull his sweatpants down. He looked painfully hard, practically straining against his boxers, and he groaned in contentment as he freed his cock from its restraint. 

The sight of the flushed, already leaking tip of his cock was intimidating enough; and when he fisted his thick shaft, slowly dragging his fingers along his length, it was almost as though he was taunting you with it even though you knew that wasn’t truly his intention. 

You swallowed thickly, raising your eyes to his. He smiled down at you, lifting his folded knuckles to caress the apple of your cheek. 

“Let Daddy take care of you, alright? I’ll go nice and slow, and if it gets too much, don’t be shy to tell me.”

You nodded, watching him lift your leg by the back of the knee and up to his side. His throbbing cock glided upon your inner thigh as he moved closer, smearing his precum all over the skin. You sucked in a sharp breath, biting your lip as the head of his cock prodded at your entrance.

Jason’s eyes bore into yours; soft, yet determined. His lips, a hair breadth apart from yours and parted, as if he wanted to kiss you, but they only brushed coyly over your lips. His breath hitched into a strangled moan as he pried slowly between your weeping folds. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking tight. Mmm, shit. I can barely make it in.”

Your walls began to sting in protest once again, stretching slowly to let Jason in – and fuck! He was big. So big, your lips quivered with a whimper, shoulders growing tense. He stopped immediately upon hearing the sound, eyes growing rich with concern. 

“Shit. You okay, sweetheart? I’ll just leave the tip—”

“No. Keep going.”

The broken moan that flitted through your lips lit up a glint in Jason’s dark eyes, pupils visibly blowing wider if that were anymore possible. He nodded, searching your face for a moment before he began sliding farther in. 

His lips pressed to your cheek, hot uneven breaths feathering over the feverish skin of your face as he moaned – a deep satisfied sound that came from the back of his throat and roused goosebumps down your neck. 

A curse rolled off his tongue as he paused to catch his breath, his cock now burrowed deep inside you. Air knotted in your throat, your pussy already clenching around him. He molded you so perfectly, filling you to the brim; and you could only imagine how heavenly he would feel once he’d start moving.

Jason’s face fell to the crook of your neck to press a soft kiss, hips slowly beginning a steady pace. His grip on your thigh was firm, thick fingers pressing and claiming the tender flesh, and it became even firmer as his thrust grew in confidence and certainty, mouth parting for his fervently turned desperate moans to flee. His choked noises caressed your skin in a string of harsh pants, all but laced with a whiny undertone. 

He raised his head to kiss your lips, the gesture slow and lazy, even faltering briefly along with the movement of his hips as your pussy gripped around him tightly again. He moaned against your mouth; his last kiss withering halfway on his lips before he could press them to yours.

“Oh, you take me so fucking well. You feel so fucking good, baby. You’re gonna make me cum if you keep squeezing me like that.”

The familiar knotting heat was coiling tighter and tighter in your core once again, the need for release rising in a trail of ticklish warmth up your chest, flooding your throat and bursting over your lips in a chain of whimpers which Jason swallowed with his own. 

You arched your back as your orgasm drew ever closer, the peak just within reach now, and it scratched your walls with a persistent heat promising to consume you whole. You moaned heartily, nails digging into your palms, air weaving in and out of your throat in sharp gulps, and you finally came undone with a quivering cry of his name.

Jason groaned as your pussy fluttered around him, your slick heat bringing him closer to the edge as well. His cock plowed in and out of you – quick and harsh, the momentum rattling the cheap wooden chair on its legs as he sought desperately after his own climax.  

“You wanna make Daddy cum, don’t you?” A moan hummed deep in your throat in response. Jason muttered a thick “fuck” before he continued, “I bet you do, baby. I bet you fucking do. Come on then, you can do it. You can fucking do it for me. Please, baby, make me cum. Give it to me. Pleasepleaseplease–”

He cut himself off with a high-pitched gasp right as you moved your wrists one final time to offer him a giant delicious jolt of your powers. His erratic hips faltered with a trembling sigh, and he spilled his warm seed between your swollen folds – his voice rising in octave as he let his head back to moan loudly and eagerly into the air.

A content “mmm” bubbled in his throat as he began to slow down, his harsh breaths leaving him more calmly as tiny whimpers tipped off his lips. He carefully pulled out of you, wincing at the way your pussy still clung to his sensitive cock even now. 

The thrumming adrenaline in your system soon gave way to exhaustion, and you slumped against your chair, mind slowly coming to the dull ache of your wrists where the handcuffs still dug mercilessly into your skin. 

Jason beamed at you; lips pulled into a surprisingly bashful smile. His fingers rose to scratch at his neck as the tinge of pink across his nose deepened into a darker shade. As his mind slowed down to a more comprehensible speed, you began to realize the reason for his sudden shyness. 

This was the turning point neither of you could come back from. Two rivals – enemies with twisted emotions for one another. This was bound to complicate things between you. Yet, you couldn’t help tease him about this.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked with a smile of your own.

He rolled his eyes. “You damn well know what.”

“This does change a lot between us, doesn’t it?”

“We don’t gotta worry ‘bout that now,” he gave a small shrug. “Let’s figure out first how we’re gonna fix the mess you made tonight.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes as Jason scoffed a laugh. However, the cheeky light in his eyes turned sharp as his phone began ringing on the coffee table. He reached over the armrest, took hold of the device; and as soon as his eyes found the glowing screen, his brows furrowed deep. “Shit,” he muttered before lifting the phone to his ear.

The conversation was mostly silent on Jason’s part – filled only with his occasional words of acknowledgment and absentminded nods. His troubled eyes flickered to yours once he hung up, face distorted with a confused frown.

“What’s up?” You finally asked, the question coming barely above a whisper from your lips.

His mouth opened and closed futilely as if he wasn’t certain how to respond before he shook his head.

“They—they caught the villain… of—of tonight’s incident—explosion thing… I just got the call to go down to the station for the interrogation.”

“What?” You spat with incredulity. “But… I’m here!”

[shortpplfedup]

A plague o' both your houses! Bad Buddy Episode 10

Where are the vile beginners of this fray?

Welcome to the Romeo and Juliet AU, where Tybalt and Mercutio live, Romeo is wounded instead, and things start playing out the way they could have been if people hadn't been waving weapons around instead of talking to each other. In this episode the kinsmen squash the beef for the sake of love, Ink and Paa have a lightbulb moment in a darkroom, and Pat and Pran get to the bottom of the family feud and oh man is it a doozy.

WE'RE ALL KINSMEN NOW!

...He shall be endured: What, goodman boy! I say, he shall: go to; Am I the master here, or you?

Pran has come so FAR. Pat said 'say you like me in 4K' back on the rooftop in episode 7 and Pran did it WITH Dolby 5.1 surround sound! The extraness of the whole confession and claiming setup is the most romantic thing Pran has done for Pat yet. Quiet Pran staged such a massive public grand gesture (and what must it have taken to make that happen?) because he knew Pat wanted it so badly, and also that Pat would want to be the dramatic romantic hero, and I HAVE SOMETHING IN MY EYE OKAY! And then later on he actually sings him the song he's been struggling to write since episode 1 and I...

Listen, I usually hate public declarations, just like I hate people singing to each other, but Aof has managed to make me love an execution of BOTH tropes in a single episode, and it's because in both instances the object of the action has ASKED for it. My director is BASED I tell you.

BENVOLIO AND...ROSALINE?

Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!

I've been hanging the Friar Lawrence character on different people, because I think at different points different characters have embodied his spirit. I last bestowed the title on Ink, but I think that now she has returned to being Rosaline. Rosaline's role in the play is as an avatar of love, she exists to allow Romeo to understand and recognise what love truly is when he actually finds it, to understand that it needs reciprocity to be real. Ink helped Pat discover who he REALLY loves, and she is now doing the same for Paa. But here she has also been made flesh and blood with feelings of her own and so is also working on her own behalf. The reciprocity Pat didn't have with her, Paa does. Paa and Ink in the darkroom is just one of the sweetest things I've ever seen, and continues the throughline where miscommunication between the actual couples is not ever the source of any drama.

LADY CAPULET V. LORD MONTAGUE

See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate, That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love.

It's the HURT in Pat's eyes when he looks at his dad. Pran's mom broke Pran's heart long ago but for Pat this kind of pain is a fresh new hell. The first time your parents look small to you is a moment you never forget, and Pat's dad is about an inch tall in his view right now. The way he has tried to paper over his guilt over what he did with bluster, bravado and dismissal of Pran's mom's feelings about it all is one manifestation of toxic masculinity in a nutshell: never apologise, ever. And so, Pran's mom's bitterness and Pat's dad's guilt lingered, festered and hardened over decades into daggers they then aimed at their children's hearts. Pran's mom thought she was shielding and protecting her son and instead turned Pran into a ball of anxiety and repression. Pat's dad thought he was making his son stronger and smarter than him but he just dumped all the pressure his own dad put on him onto Pat. They hurt their children because they never resolved their own hurts. It's sick and twisted and tragic and delicious storytelling.

ROMEO AND JULIET SAY 'SCREW YOU ALL'

...heaven is here, Where Juliet lives...

Pat and Pran have been choosing each other, and choosing each other, and choosing each other, over and over and over again. It shouldn't be a surprise that they choose each other once the real choice, the choice of whether they would defy their parents, had to be made. And I suppose it isn't quite a surprise but it's still somehow unexpected, especially from Pran. But then, our little Pran has really come SUCH a long way. Where Pran has given Pat the softness Pat hasn't had much of in his own life, Pat has given Pran the courage to live out loud and stand up for himself. And so, when the chips are down, they don't turn inward but they turn toward the person who has shown them that unconditional love, toward each other. Because nobody understands what they've been through BUT them. They don't need to explain to each other what's happened or how they feel; they know, instinctively. When the dam holding back Pran's years of pain and anger finally breaks, he reaches for Pat, and Pat is there, and nothing needs to be said, he just holds him, because he KNOWS. When Pran says 'I can't do this anymore', Pat KNOWS what he means, he doesn't misunderstand.

And now they're running away to Mantua, just like Romeo and Juliet should have in the first place.

Commentary from the Chorus

Pat and Paa have the absolute best conversations and the best sibling relationship.

Pran's peer mentor is a fifth year student and if he's the embodiment of the architecture seniors no wonder they have a stupid inter-faculty beef.

Ink shooting eye lasers at Wai is the bare minimum of consequences but I'll take whatever I can get here.

I've finally decided that Chai is an amalgam of Friar Lawrence and Juliet's nurse.

Aof really said 'there is no homophobia anywhere in this universe, not even from the avatar of patriarchal toxic masculinity'.

Just back to episode 9 for a second, Korn is definitely Mercutio with the dirty jokes.

[nishiannoya]

HELLO,,, i randomly thought about this (you can do whatever you want with it bc i honestly just NEEDED someone to tell this to like !/!/!/ NEED)

okay so , listen.

angry sex with matsukawa because he decided to be a little bitch and make you horny before taking a midterm so you were just sexually frustrated while talking it and you weren't able to focus at all after weeks for preparing for it.

*does the yes dance* yo, you don't even know how perfect of timing this ask is. this could sort of fall under "something you wear that instantly turns them on" but like, super extended mattsun edition ;)

18+ Only - MINORS DNI

f!reader x matsukawa issei, college au, smut, language, friends to lovers, tsundere!reader, flirty!mattsun, fluff-ish, resolved sexual tension, just two total dumbasses crushin' on each other hard, test/exam stress, struggle for dominance, good ol' consensual boning, fingering, squirting, 'sweet heart,' 'baby girl,' little bit of biting and scratching, both of ya'll are gonna fail calc 2 (8.3k twc)

You are asking for it. You knew exactly what was going to happen when you got dressed in the morning - well, more like you're aware that you look good in your green crop top and you know a certain somebody is going to notice. Perhaps you should have chosen a better day to experiment with your wiles on your dorm neighbor and classmate, but you hadn't a clue as to how it could possibly bite you in the ass. It's just some harmless fun between friends. 

Mattsun makes no secret of his attraction to you, always flirting and dropping hints that you could take advantage of him with no resistance, though he stays respectful of your space. The build up of little comments over the school year have become too much for you to ignore, and lately you've been a little bit more responsive to his provocations. He's hot. Everyone knows you two have something going on. You're a bit apprehensive to give in though - just that little doubt in your mind that he's messing around with you.

Right now, his knee is burning against yours as you study for calc 2 at the dining table of your dorm. His excuse is that you two can share a textbook even though you can spot the corner of his in the backpack he brought over. It started out as what could be excused as an accidental brush, until it happened about 10 more times, most of them his fault (most of them). And here you are, painfully aware of the fact that your jeans are the only thing separating your skin from his. He must be aware as well - the contact being too deliberate for him not to be, but when you glance over at him he seems focused on an equation in his notebook. He shifts again in his seat, knee lifting away from you for a second before rubbing a bit higher up on your leg.

"Sorry, that keeps happening," he says as if that last one wasn't on purpose, though the upward pull of the corner of his lips is a dead giveaway.

"S'okay," you mumble, trying to act like you haven't noticed the dozen instances before. You refrain from mentioning that it was his idea to sit so close to you, not wanting him to think that you don't like the contact even though you really need to concentrate.

Little aware are you of how many times his eyes have been darting your way since he joined you about an hour ago. That fucking shirt you're wearing is so stupidly hot: a shade of green that compliments your skin and makes the pinkness of your lips stand out, cut in a v-neckline that shows off a generous amount of space between your collarbones and the valley of your breasts, and cropped right below the ribcage accentuating the curve of your waist where just a small amount of skin peeks through before the rise of your pants takes over. He swears you solely exist to torture him. He'd never tell you that, though he can barely contain his actions.

You lean up from your chair to reach for the packet of twizzlers candy on the other side of the table and Mattsun suppresses a groan when the bottom of your shirt rides up your back. He wants so badly to just reach out his hand and let his fingertips graze across the exposed skin...

"Oi!" You yelp, ears burning and head feeling a little dizzy at the sudden touch. His eyes widen when you react and he realizes that he actually did that. You freeze on contact and almost drop the bag of candy. The skin on your back prickles as if you can still feel his fingertips there. You want to glare at him, but can only look surprised when you notice he almost seems flustered and it does something weird to your heartbeat.

"Ah- I just...your skin from the crop top," he says, shocked at his own actions.

Your face turns hot when you realize he must have been staring. It seems like you were right when you got dressed today, though you didn't think it'd be so effective. You self-consciously pull down your shirt and give him a suspicious pout, waiting for him to give you either an explanation or an apology. However, something else has his attention.

"Did you really get the goosebumps from that?" He asks while fighting an excited grin. His eyes spot all the places where your skin shows, trained on gauging your reactions to his flirting for some time now.

"Sh-Shut up! Need to study," you bark, turning your attention back to your notes to try and hide your face. If any more blood rushes to your head, your ears might pop from the pressure. Hopefully it doesn't show in your expression.

You can't fool him though. He stares at you for a moment longer before letting you pretend to work out a practice problem. As much as you desperately need to focus, all you can do is anticipate his next move. He knows you're aware of him now and you're trying to convince yourself that concentration will eventually come back to you if you fake it for long enough.

But Mattsun's found something he won't let go of. The equations infront of him swirl into nonsense as the gears turn in his head to formulate how to get another reaction like that out of you. He forces a sigh and leans back just a bit in his chair, throwing his ankle to rest on his thigh and pressing the ball of his foot and toes into the side of your knee. You pretend it's an accident and chew on your candy, but when he starts poking you with his toes, you cave to his demand for attention.

"What are you-? I swear," you grumble and whip him on the shoulder with a twizzler. You like the attention, especially from him, but you know the rest of the semester is just going to be worse when it comes to the difficulty of the course material.

"Oooooh, harder daddy," he coos in a fake high pitched voice. You almost laugh, turning your head away from him so he doesn't see you smile. God forbid you give him anymore clues that you actually find him entertaining at the moment.

"Quit messing with me. It'll be my hand next time," you say menacingly, though it sounds a little suggestive once it leaves your mouth.

"Oh? You'd indulge me that much?" He asks with quirked brows that you adore so much when he's not being a total imp. Okay, even when he is pestering you he's still gorgeous, but you really wish that wasn't the case right now.

"Don't test me, brat," you grumble, partially as the ongoing joke in your friendship that he wants to be dominated by you. "I need to do good on this midterm to make up for how shitty the rest of the semester is going to be. I already failed the first test."

"Fine, fine," he relents to your need to study, but only for a little bit. He really should respect your academic needs, he knows that. It's that you've been driving him mad ever since he found out you'd be living next to him and only made worse by sharing the same 8 AM calc 2 class. He had seen you around campus the previous year and could never find an excuse to talk to you. He almost wishes it could have stayed that way now that he's tormented everytime you walk to class together or answer his knocks on your door to do homework.

He might be the one purposely distracting you, but he swears he's going to grab you by the back of the neck and kiss you until you're breathless if you smooth your hair behind your ear one time. And why the fuck do you keep pulling at your bra strap? Also stop licking and biting your lips every minute, you're just being evil.

Lost in your own torturous thought cycle, the numbers and symbols in your notes make even less sense than they do in class. You smack your hands to your face and lean back in your chair with a groan, completely ignorant to your shirt once again riding up exposing a little bit of your stomach. However he's quick to remind you to be more on guard by poking your bellybutton, making you squeak and jolt in embarrassment.

"Mattsun!" You yell as you swat his hand, cheeks once again burning and tingling at his teasing. He's going to kill you or you're going to kill him at this point. All you want to do is leap into his lap and wrap your hands around his throat but also kiss him at the same time. Or maybe you just want him to stop fucking around and just throw you on top of the table to make a mess of the notes and each other already.

"I'm sorry! It's- I like your shirt a lot. Was gonna tell you when you greeted me," he says as he tries to process your hard stare. You really hope he can't see how hot your face feels at the implication that he's been checking you out this whole time - you knew, you just aren't used to anyone being so bold as to outright admitting it.

"Thanks," you mumble, squinting your eyes at him as if to say you know what he's doing and daring him to keep pushing his teasing. You're not quite sure how much of it you can take. Your eyes keep wandering to his arms, wanting to run your hands down his forearms and see if you could actually fit your hands around his strong wrists. You know in terms of size and strength you couldn't hold him down, but perhaps with all jokes aside he would actually let you.

Nope. No. Stop thinking about that. Math. Passing this class. Graduating. Getting a job. Finding a husband. Parenting 3 dogs and having a home with a yard. You have goals goddammit. Just gotta focus on studying to get there. Ignore your super attractive friend who just scooted his chair even closer to you so now your shoulders are touching.

"Issei, I swear!" You chide when he leans on you a bit. He's so big and warm and impossible to tune out. You want to give in to whatever he's playing at so bad you could cry.

"Swear what?" He perks up at the sound of his name in your voice, even if you were only saying it to be stern. He doesn't relent on the contact and his face seems to be getting a little bit closers to yours.

"Your flirting isn't helping me concentrate. If I remember, you failed to first test too," you remind him as you turn to stare intently at your notebook. Your try to hide the heavy beating of your heart in your chest with quick shallow breaths that only seem to heighten your awareness of his eyes on you. It would be so easy to just tilt your head and chin towards him just a bit and close the gap between your faces. And you want to, but you also wish this could have been any other time besides T-minus 10 hours until the dreaded calculus midterm.

"One, ouch. Two, maybe you need a distraction," he says cheekily as he rubs his arm against yours. It's so close to breaking you. He smells so nice and it takes everything within in you not to relax against him.

You stare at him blankly, trying to decide if you can even play dumb to such a straight forward offer. This is the most bold he's been with you and you don't want to turn him down in fear that he'll get the wrong idea that you're not interested. Your sight drops down to his lips for a moment. You know all chances of cramming would go out the window if you cave.

"Later," you say calmly despite your face feeling like it's going to melt off. It's painful to stave off the desire, but maybe it will be enough to keep him behaved for the rest of the night. "What I need now is to do good on this midterm."

"Later?" He repeats in question, trying to get you to elaborate.

"LATER," you confirm with no hint of movement in your voice. If you give him anything more, later will just mean 2 minutes later.

He relents on his lean on your side and studies your somewhat fair act of an academically focused student. Later is satisfying enough for him, though now all he can think out is when is later going to be and what would it entail.

Meanwhile you're berating yourself for giving an answer that you're not even sure you know the details of. Do you mean tonight? Tomorrow? Next week? Your head is swirling, eyes not even processing anything they scan in the textbook. He's too present at your side even if he's just poking something into his calculator.

Your eyes feel dry and tired from all the different strains and stresses of this cram session. All you want to do is fall into the solace of sleep and leave tomorrow's you to deal with it all. A cup of coffee could fuel you for another few hours, but what's the point - especially with your heart is already jumping to a mild workout pace everytime Mattsun so much as moves his pencil. It's not like you're going to actually learn anything if you keep at it with your head all muddled up like this.

You groan and throw your hands to your face before sinking down into you arms as a pillow on the table. You know your back is exposed again, you know it's coming, but you don't care. Your eyes barely peek open when you feel his warm hand at the vulnerable skin, this time staying put to rub soothing little lines into your back. You hum contentedly at the feeling, relaxing despite the occasional chill that runs down your body.

He continues to work with his hand like that for a while before removing his jacket and putting it over you. You're not sure when exactly you fell asleep, but you stir just a little bit when he copies your pose, elbow touching yours and eyes peering over his arms at you. You might be drooling a little and yet he still thinks you're the cutest thing in the world. His hand reaches out to you, tangling itself in your hair behind your head and thumb massaging affectionate circles against your follicles before succumbing to sleep as well. One of your eyes cracks open for just a moment to see him next to you and the unfiltered truth of a tired mind slips in: oh fuck, I really like him.

...

"y/n! Wake up, bitch! Your alarm has been going off in your room for 15 minutes," one of your roommates yells from her room and suddenly you jolt awake at the table. It's like you're in fight mode. Mattsun's hand and jacket fall from you as you bolt up to turn off your alarm and then return to frantically shove your candy colored drool stained notebook into your backpack. He's slow to wake up, muscles sore from being slumped over a table all night.

"It's fine if we leave in 5 minutes," he mutters after he checks his phone for the time. How on earth can he be so calm when you know he needs to do well on the midterm as well?

"Yeah, but I wanted to at least eat something and have some coffee," you whine as you double check to make sure you have a pencil and some back ups packed away. "A change of clothes would be nice too."

"You know I don't mind," he says with a lazy smirk that's met with your no-nonsense death glare.

"Save it, lover boy," you grumble. He chuckles at the taunting nickname and makes moves to gather his things as well. "Banana or tangerine?"

"Ooh? Feeding me breakfast?" He teases.

"Shut up, let's go!" You bark as you decide to toss him the tangerine and grab your backpack. What kind of pandora's box did you open last night? Though there's no time to think of an answer for that. Quickly you slip into some sneakers, not caring about denting them as you pop the backs over your heels.

You wait for him at the door, impatiently peeling your banana while he puts on his shoes. You try your best to keep from thinking how cute he looks with his wavy hair a little more tousled than usual, though it just spirals to wondering what it would look like after a night in the sheets. The bite of banana you just took struggles to be swallowed as your stomach clenches from how utterly fucked you are.

"Ready," he says and the two of you are off. It's a relatively short walk to lecture hall where your class takes place, but you still bug him to quiz you along the way.

"I'm just as stupid as you are in this class! I don't even know what to quiz you on. We'll be fine," he tells you.

"But you just said we're both stupid!" You cry as you grab and shake his arm like a child on the verge of a meltdown. He laughs and turns to look at you once you reach the building.

"Fine, I'm stupid. You are smart, hard working, and dedicated, and most importantly: you're hot, so you can always start an OnlyFans if you flunk out," he says earnestly as he opens the door for you.

You just glare at him, even if you're a little warm under his own brand of praise. It's his usual flirting, but today it sinks in deeper than usual. He tells you that he'll be your first subscriber as you search out seats near the smart kids even though the set up makes it near impossible to cheat. You shush him before any of your classmates can pick up on what he's talking about and take a seat. He sits next to you, or two seats away as required, and gives you a quiet thumbs up when you receive your scantrons and midterm packets.

The exam begins. Two hours on the clock. Your concentration lasts all but the first five minutes before it's wandering to the pathetic excuse of a study session last night. Remembering Mattsun's hands and eyes on you makes your whole body flush as your brain formulates fantasies of what it would be like if you two were to take your clothes off, rather than answers to the problems in front of you. You glance over at him at and your body jolts when you catch him staring at you. He just gives a silent chuckle when you send a glare his way that conveys a dozen fuck you's for multiple reasons.

You attempt a few problems, not even really sure if you're putting them in the calculator correctly. One of them looks like straight up hieroglyphics to you and you wipe a little bit of nervous sweat from your upper lip with the sleeve of your shirt. That's when you notice that you smell like him! You rub your nose on your sleeve again just to be sure; faded earthy body spray mixed with some kind of fragrant fabric softener. You vaguely remember his jacket falling off your back this morning when you got up. Right now all you want to do is bury your face in the scent, whether it be snuggling into his zip-up or rubbing your face in his chest.

You huff and anxiously tap the eraser of your pencil against your cheek as you try to recall anything you learned in the semester. Nothing that could possibly help comes to mind, only thoughts of his hands, thick fingers, and toned arms wrapping around the different parts of your body. His flirtatious banter repeats in the back of your head that has you wondering what kinds of devilish things he might whisper in your ear if...

The professor announces that 15 minutes are left and your heart drops into your stomach. It feels like maybe only half an hour went by and a lot of the problems in your packet are left unfinished. Frantically you just fill in gut instinct answers on your scantron and pray that luck is on your side today. You take a few deep breaths and do your best to numb yourself to the black hole that's forming in your chest. When it's over, you hand your scantron and exam packet back with a blank face and thousand yard stare while you try to sort out the unpleasant feelings whirling around inside you.

You walk back to your hall, refusing to answer Mattsun's questions of how you think you did. You're drained and all you can think of is how to recover from how disastrous that exam was. Plenty of people fail classes, right? Surely some of the greatest minds struggled as you are. Or maybe you could just target a rich man and drop out. Live your life on a yacht with some middle-aged billionaire playboy. No need to look at calculus ever again in your life. Ah yes, the ignorant optimism and idealism is so soothing.

You reach your building, just grunting at everything Mattsun says. You feel defeated, tired yet angry. He asks you something once you reach your doors, but it doesn't even register. You just grab him by the wrist and pull him into your dorm, but are greeted by your roommates sitting on the couch who all just smile at you when they see you holding onto him. They must have seen you two sleeping at the table, but today you hardly care about the teasing you'll get for it as you drag him to your room and swing the door closed.

"Fuck you! I did horrible on that!" You lament once you're finally alone and drop your bags. You step right up into his space and poke him in the chest. No longer are you able mask the variety of discomforts weighing down on you.

"Fuck me? I helped you study!" He says defensively, but doesn't back away from your distressed tone. If anything he thinks you look an arousing mix of cute and hot when you're mad at him.

"You did nothing but distract me with your stupid hands and flirty commentary! You think you're so cute," you say mockingly, making all kinds of crazy faces that are new and endearing to him.

"I think you're so cute," he twists your words and throws them back at you with a haughty smirk. It's the truth, but you also set it up so perfectly for him. The audacity to mess with you when you're so clearly pissed at him has your mind succumbing to a primal kind of rage.

"Fucking- ugh!" You groan as you go to spin away from him, but his hand on your shoulder stops you and pushes you back until your butt hits your desk. You sneer at him for daring to touch you, for daring to be so tall and to smell so fucking good when all you want is to be cross with him.

"It's later," he says and you're confused for a moment until you realize he's talking about what you said last night. Your face burns twice as hot with both the flames of embarrassment and anger. Why would he even have the balls to bring up...

"I asked you just outside when you wanted later to be and you dragged me in here," he tells you and you remember that you were actively tuning him out. His eyes seem dark as they stare you down, waiting for you to do something. He takes the step to close the space between your bodies, one of his knees pressing between yours that makes you draw in a sharp breath.

"I can't stand you," you hiss, feeling all the frustrations of the day starting to mix into one burning hot pit in your stomach. You grab a fistful of his shirt just below the collar, knowing you can't do much but glare at him. "Always teasing me. Always tempting me. This some kind of game to you?"

"Game? I just want-" He says, but you don't want to hear any of that from him right now. Your heart is pounding, body on fire, and head spinning with how much you wish he'd stop talking and-

You tug on his shirt, forcefully pulling his face into yours for a clumsy, bruising kiss. It doesn't matter to either of you though, quickly adjusting yourselves as one of his hands dives into your hair and the other drawing you in by the waist. His lips slot perfectly against yours and makes your eyes flutter at the climatic feeling of it all. It feels so good and right and relieving, and dear god does it make you angry that it is so. You release his shirt, opting to slide off his jacket that he hastily discards before grabbing your hips and pulling them up on his leg as he moans into your mouth.

"Shut up. Don't talk. You piss me off," you manage to say when you pull back to catch your breath before quickly falling back into your feverish passion. Your fingernails dig into the back of his neck and hair, forcing him even closer as your tongues clash. A familiar coil forms in your core, though all the heated emotions of the day allow it to pull in on itself tighter and faster than usual.

"To think you'd be so mean," he comments but does not seem upset by it at all. He smiles against your lips when he feels your hips rolling against him and realizes that you're working yourself on his thigh through your jeans. Despite the haste of his mouth, his hands move painfully slow creeping higher up your body until you can feel his fingertips underneath the hem of your shirt and just lightly brushing against your bra.

"Told you to shut up," you mumble right before sucking and biting his lower lip, earning you a low groan that sends a wave of need through your body. His cock pulses through his shorts and against your hip, and you swear you could almost come just from the way your whole core squeezes in reaction.

His hands drop to your ass without warning to lift you so he can take you to your bed. You land with a soft bounce off your duvet and he's instantly dropping his weight on you to shove his tongue even deeper into your mouth. He situates his hips between your legs as one hand grabs at your breast over your shirt, the other roughly cradling the side of your head in your hair. You squirm beneath him, part of you enjoying his hunger for you, but the other part telling you that he's greedy.

"Get off me," you growl when he moves his kisses down to your neck. A wanton mewl slips from your throat at the feeling of his tongue on your pulse. It makes your toes want to curl and you fight to keep from wrapping your legs around him. You manage a small push on his shoulders, but he just chuckles at the attempt.

"Oh? Think you can struggle against me?" He teases as his breath fans against the skin of your neck. He relaxes more his weight onto you making you feel small against his body. You wonder what happened to all those jokes about you being the one on top.

You draw your knees up to your chest and are able to wiggle your feet between you to push against his stomach with your soles. He backs off with a grunt and you use this opportunity to get him on the floor with another foot shove to the chest. He complains, but not fast enough to stop you from sliding into his lap for a quick kiss paired with a smirk.

"You're the mean one, ya'know. You don't even care that I'm going to flunk," you pout at him and lean back just enough to give your hands access to the button and zipper on his shorts. He watches you with amused eyes when he doesn't budge to let you remove the garment. Your glare does little to sway him into moving, however you feel his dick twitch at the close contact and you slide forward to rub your crotch against the hardened member under his boxers. Both of you maintain eye contact, cheeks feeling flush, and breath heaving in small fast pumps as you struggle to hold in your moans.

"And you're the tease, always wearing cute shit, doing hot shit - you don't even fucking know. Or do you, little minx?" He breaks first with a growl and wraps an arm around your waist to flip you around and pull you flush against his body. His breath feels ticklish behind your ear. Both arms are keeping you from moving around too much, though right now his words and warmth have you melting in his hold regardless.

Something between a squeak and a moan breaks from your lips when his tongue runs along the shell of your ear. One hand slips into the deep cut of your shirt and squeezes the soft flesh of your breast before tweaking your nipple ever so slightly. You shiver against him as he entertains himself in your breathy whines. Your thighs squeeze together with every pinch and twist while the threads that hold onto your mind start to snap.

The pleasure is so torturous that it feels like you're gonna choke on the neediness that's flooding your body. His other hand skillfully unbuttons your jeans and slides in over the fabric of your panties, discovering the slick you've worked up that soaks through.

"Fuck," he rasps in your ear, making you clench at how strained he sounds. He wants to taunt you more about being so worked up for him, but could only manage the curse. He removes his hands to tug down your pants and underwear. You lift your hips in compliance, not caring to fight him too much anymore.

"Holy fuck, I-Issei!" You cry when one of his thick fingers sinks into your pussy as soon as you're able to get one foot out of your clothes. Your dripping walls immediately grip the digit, vision shaking when he ever so slightly rubs the squishy flesh inside.

His other hand finds its way back under your bra to tease your nipple again as he toys with your cunt. It feels different from when you've tried yourself or with other guys. It's almost is if your breath is being stolen from you with every moment of his fingers. Another one of his digits slides in easily with a lewd squelch that has his dick twitching at your backside. Water wells up along the edges of your eyes from how good it feels to have him stretching you out and stroking a spot in your walls that you never knew existed.

"Feel good?" He asks in a low voice that makes something in your chest feel taut. You're not even sure if you can answer him with your voice taken over by pitiful little gasps and whines.

"Awful, you suck," you manage to say as tears fall from trying not to cum. You want to, but something feels strange and suspenseful, like pulling blocks from a jenga tower. You know some kind of climax is close, but it could be any little movement that could trigger it rather than the usual build up. Your eyes clench with every push and stroke, pelvic muscles tightening and core curling in on yourself.

He just smiles against your hair and lets the heel of his thumb rub against your clit as he continues to work your insides. Your hand flies to your mouth to keep from screaming, though you're sure your roommates have heard it all by now. All it takes is a few small like circles around the bud of nerves for a dam inside you to break.

You gasp, body nearly snapping forward when just one little graze of the fingertips happens to hit the right spot. Liquid gushing in a small amount from your cunt, but still more than you've ever experienced. Your eyes roll back into your head, crying as more splashes out while he continues to work his hands, dirtying the floor with your spills. You struggle to find a breathing rhythm and only catch little clips of his teasing praise.

"Good fucking girl. Still squeezing my fingers. Gonna cum again? Be a good girl and cum for me again," he commands, strong fingers curling and stretching against your walls. His other hand grips into the soft skin of your breast, trapping your sensitive nipple between his knuckles.

"I can't. Wait- I- Oh shit!" You sob as you try to hold onto your sense of self. It's futile though, this time more liquid that you have no idea where it came from, spurts from your pussy as if he's reaching deep inside you to pull it out with each pump of his fingers. You didn't even know it was possible to cum so quickly and powerfully one right after another.

"F-Fuck you," you gasp once his movements slow down, even though you're sure if he kept going he would definitely find a third orgasm in there. You wince when he removes his hand and fully relax against him as you do your best to regain your breath.

"Still got that mouth? How many more times do I have to make you cum for you to forgive me?" He asks after wiping his soaked hand on his shorts. He places an affectionate kiss to your temple and allows you the time to recover.

You hum in response, not sure if you have the capacity to form any thoughts with your brain. Though usually after two orgasms you'd be dead, but right now your body buzzes in excitement over the newfound pleasure. You turn around to look at him, pupils blown out and consuming the amused expression he gives you. Even if you're being stubborn about it, he's quite satisfied to see you waiting for his next move.

You twist more in your seated position, dropping your sight down to the massive bulge in his shorts that have shifted down his hips a bit since your unfastening earlier. You glance back up at him, licking and biting your lower lip, not so subtly hinting at what you want to do next.

"You know, I'd make anyone else ask," he tells you with a smirk. "But first, let's get you out of this."

He tugs at the very shirt that sort of started this whole thing, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. Practiced fingers easily unclasp your bra and the look on his face is hard to discern when he sees you completely bare before him for the first time. He can't tell you how many times he's dreamed of the sight without incriminating himself. His dark eyes seem to grow larger as he reaches out his hands to touch you, anywhere and everywhere to confirm that you're very much real and tangible infront of him.

He swallows once, not allowing himself to suddenly feel shy about taking you, especially after you came so beautifully for him twice in a row. One more look into your shining eyes is all he needs push down any doubts. He leans forward to grab the back of his shirt, peeling it over his head and kisses you after throwing it amongst the other discarded clothing items.

Your hungry eyes widen when he stands up to remove his shorts and boxers. His tall presence looms over your sitting form as you anticipate seeing him just as bare as you are. You've heard a few rumors that he has a reputation for being endowed, though you ignored the gossip because it's not like you shop for men by dick size. Even if you had paid them any mind, it still would've have caught you just as off guard as you are now when he stands straight up after pulling off his bottoms, giving you the full view of his naked form.

Goddamn. For one, you knew he worked out occasionally and played for one of the intramural volleyball teams, and you've certainly noticed the definition in his arms and legs, but holy fucking shit you were not expecting him to be so cut. His lower abs even do that stupidly sexy V thing that guides the eye straight to the patch of dark hair that looks like it's been trimmed or shaved in the last week or so. And the star of the show; you can only describe as meaty, head glistening with a thin layer of smudged precum that makes your eyes shake and mouth water upon sight.

"Too big?" He asks, feeling just slightly conscious under your raking stare.

"You- You're so handsome," you stutter earnestly and your head feels light in your captivation, forgetting that you're supposed to be mad at him. Although who can stay cross when such a beautiful man forces 2 very wet and powerful orgasms out of you. "I mean, I knew that, but like this you're- Wow!"

He raises his brows in surprise at your words, suddenly turning a shade of pink and trying to hide his embarrassment. Last thing he was expecting was a compliment from you, usually you're much more taunting in your expression. Not only that, but he feels like he should be the one saying such things to you instead.

"I- Hold on," he says to avoid accepting your rare praise. He looks around for where he dropped his backpack and rummages through it, taking just a few moments to find whatever it is he's looking for. You look on curiously to see him pull out a gold colored condom packet and flash it in your direction.

"Can I put it on for you?" You ask, eager to see if his dick feels just as thick and heavy in your hands as it looks.

He agrees to it and tells you to sit on your bed, which you comply after struggling to stand up for a moment. He holds your arm as you wobble over and jump up so your legs hang over the edge, not worrying right now about dirtying your duvet with your sticky thighs and cheeks. You look him up and down again, settling on his face that you've come to enjoy seeing so much nearly every day. You pluck the condom from his hand and pull him in for a kiss.

The fiery feelings from before are softer but still present, like hot coals eagerly waiting for more kindling. You break open the wrapper and giggle as you fumble with the slippery protection device. Just a little bit nervous, you reach for his cock and the flush of heat that runs through you is instantaneous once you feel him in your hand. Your heart beats excitedly as you stroke him a few times, eyes struggling to focus when somehow he gets even harder at your touch and you can feel the blood rushing in his thick veins under your fingertips. Languidly you roll the condom on and shift your position so that your glistening cunt lines up with the edge of your school-issued mattress, letting it just graze his protected member that already has you drawing in your breath.

"You have to tell me if it hurts. I don't want to hurt you. Just want you to feel good," he tells you while looking into your eyes to make sure you know he's being honest. You nod in agreement and smile at the care he's taking with you. For the sake of friendship, you always refrained from imagining what it would be like to have sex with Mattsun, but even still you probably wouldn't have thought him to be so mindful.

"Is it okay?" He asks as he rubs the tip through your folds, sending a shiver up your neck and making your pussy clench when the head barely pokes at your entrance.

"Do what you want," you breathe, stars in your eyes beginning to blind you with need. You draw your knees toward your chest and lean back just a bit to allow him better access.

"I asked: Is it okay?" He reiterates firmly, eyes locking into yours that have you thinking for the first time that consent is sexy as fuck.

"Yes," you nod, feeling your heart spike in rate and your breathing increase at the confirmation. He smiles and kisses you before moving to grip the base of his dick to guide the head in slowly, the other hand on your knee for stability.

It's utterly insane. The way he stretches you out as he carefully pushes himself in, bit by bit as you get accustomed to the feeling of having something so massive inside you. You breathe laboriously through the motion, the only thing even keeping your mind tethered to your sense being while you struggle to not completely lose yourself to the feeling.

"Wanted to do this for so fuckin' long," he grunts, holding back from slamming into you like an animal like his body is telling him to. He leans into you more, keeping a watchful eye on your expression through the overwhelming pleasure of your connection. "Look so fuckin' gorgeous like this, sweetheart."

"I'm not swee-" You go to oppose the endearment, but the ability to speak is momentarily taken from you as he presses the rest of his length into you. Frankly he can call you whatever the hell he wants the way he's filling you up, leaving no space for you to even clamp down. Sweetheart, darling, slut, whore, all the terms you thought you hated would be acceptable coming from his mouth if it meant feeling as whole as you do now.

You look into each other's eyes for a moment, though you can hardly focus with the way your walls and his dick twitch against one another. You gulp once, managing a weak smile and a few quick nods that beckon him to move within you. He kisses you again, leaning into you so your back hits the mattress and your legs spread wider to accommodate his large form against you.

He takes it slow at first, but your little pleas as well as your back arching off the covers has his face scrunching and teeth clenching from trying his damnedest to not totally lose control in your wet hot heat. You're making it impossible though with his name paired with vain cries for the divine spilling off your tongue, and hips rolling to meet his movements. He drops his face to your neck, unable to handle the wantonly drunk look on your face without falling apart.

"So fucking big," you pant as you turn a little bit to his ear. The moan you're rewarded with makes you cry out as well, wrapping your legs around his middle to drive him into you more. His hand fondles and grips at your breast, the other tangling and grasping your hair while his teeth graze at your neck. So much stimulation is overwhelming, forcing you to clutch and claw at his back in a desperate attempt to not completely lose yourself.

You've heard people talk about "getting their guts rearranged" in regards to sex, but you're not sure if that's quite what you're feeling. Rearranged is certainly a word for it, but with every upward thrust of Issei's cock it feels like everything inside of your body shifts upwards: Like your stomach is where you throat should be, and your heart has taken place of your brain, and the brain itself is simply no longer in your body.

"Takin' me so well. Like your pussy was made to -nngh! take my dick," he growls against your skin. God, you are going to hear it from your roommates later between both of your voices as well as the cheap wooden bedframe supplied by the university thudding against the walls. The shame does little to quiet your voice however. Even sinking your teeth into his shoulder hardly muffles the sound of your moans and cries.

That feeling from earlier is coming back you; the one where you know you're going to break, you just don't know what's going to do it. The wet noises of his hips slamming into you fill the room as you try to relax but to no avail. All of the muscles in your body continued to tense up while the feeling of his cock dragging along the inside of your pussy threatens to make you snap.

"Issei, gonna cum. Gonna go crazy," you whine, tears falling from your eyes and you know you're as good as done for when you feel them roll down your jaw. His pace increases and your eyes float into the back of your head, vision beginning to go white. He leans up and off you, forcing you to unhook your legs from his sides so he can push you by the back of the knees so they're over your shoulders. Your eyes immediately snap back forward and go wide at the deeper angle, nearly screaming when the tip of his dick nudges your cervix. The quick pain only adds to the to the tension in your core, and you wince as you teeter on the tipping point.

"Do it. Cum on my cock, baby girl," he says smiling down at you, dark curls sticking to his forehead in sweat. He still smells so good when he bends down to swipe his tongue over yours that's lolling out from your panting.

The pet name does it for you, so sweet in his deep voice that's strained in pleasure for you. A lusty, breathy high pitched moan rings through your vocal chords at one drag of his dick along every crevice of your walls. He keeps his rhythm and your pussy squelches and spasms around him, sending a spike to his fever as well. Every push and pull keeps sending a flush of heat over you that renders you pliant beneath him as he builds the rest of his climax.

"Gonna cum too. Fuck," he groans and lets go of your legs to force his arms under your back and around your head. His hold on you is tight as curses rasp from his lips into your hairline, moaning and shuddering against you as he falls apart. You feel his cock jump with each release and you wish for just a moment that you could feel his load pouring into you.

You crack open your eyes, still damp and your vision almost back to normal. He's looking down at you, eyes still dark but soft before closing them to capture your lips for a kiss. You hum in content at the feeling, kissing him back just as sweetly.

He pulls himself from you and asks you where you keep a towel. You point him over to the closet where he slowly retrieves one and comes back to gingerly clean up the mess around your thighs before wiping his own and discarding the condom. He tosses the towel at what he assumes is your hamper and then crawls into your way too small for the both of you bed, and grabs you to lay against him.

"Well, I guess we should have just done that last night," you giggle as you trace the lines of his pec muscles and enjoy breathing in his scent. You just said it to break the silence, though you suppose it might have relieved at least some of your stress if you had just caved.

"I'm sorry. For distracting you from studying last night," he says, moving his head to look at you sincerely. You smile, nestling your face against his chest a little more.

"It's fine," you sigh, already coming to terms with the impending failure. There's still another test and a final if you work hard enough and someone comes up with an overnight genius serum.

"No, it's not. I should be able to control myself better. It's just that you drive me crazy whenever I'm around you," he confesses. "Sorry, I know that's not a good excuse."

You blink at him, a little flustered by his words, though you hardly mind being irresistible to him.

"Not a good excuse, but doesn't mean I don't like it," you say truthfully with a little grin. "I suppose maybe I could have chosen a better time to wear something I knew you'd like."

"You were teasing me!" He gasps and grabs your head to knock his forehead against yours. You both chuckle before you relax on him again.

"Maybe," you say sheepishly. "I'm glad though."

"Yeah, me too."

The Next Day - Omake

You: Oh shit, professor posted the grades already.

Mattsun: Go on, just check it.

You: 55. Fuck. Goddammit.

Mattsun: Got a 42.

Mattsun: Don't worry, I'll take it again with you next semester.

You: You're paying for this class when I get my student loan bill after graduation.

MINORS & BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT LIKE, COMMENT, OR REBLOG THIS POST AND ABSOLUTELY DO NOT FOLLOW OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED