#man i do question their relationship in the game as well but at least there are hints dracula really was a decent person and husband

[madam8]

Should have just made this its own thing and put in a link but fuck it I'm committed now. Hope whoever reads this enjoys. ❤

Also just wanna add I didn't make the header, I downloaded it from another story and don't remember which one. Please tell me in the comments if that's a problem and I'll remove it.

I'm just imagining something similar happening with the Obey Me boys.

Like, imagine.

You're minding your damn business playing the game, maybe say something affectionate towards your fave during the home surprise guest, and you're feeling tired. It is late AF, you always stayed up late talking to your favorite man, but somehow you feel much heavier than usual. So you say your "goodnight" and "I love you" to him (was that a grin you just saw? Was he blushing?) and you shut off the game and go to bed to start dreaming (weird though, you swear you heard his voice just before passing out).

Low and behold, your in your room when you wake. Well, not YOUR room back at home. But you find you're on your room in The House Of Lamentation. Which isn't even real.

HOW THE FUCK?!

You leave that room to wander around and find out what the flying fuck is going on, when you hear one of the brothers call to everyone else that you were awake.

Just like that, they all (save for a few specifics) crowded around you asking how were you feeling? Were you alright? Were you dizzy? Were you nauseous? Were you hungry?

When suddenly Lucifer speaks up telling them all to calm down and not overwhelm you (arms crossed cause of course lol)

They all reluctantly do as told, prioritizing your comfort over anything else at the moment.

You find out that someone seems to have brought you here but no one is fessing up or trying to help you leave. Why would they? They all love you and are fully aware that you adore them as well.

Skip ahead, you've gotten use to living with them and aren't AS against it as you should be. If anything, you prefer your life with them.

Going down the the kitchen for a drink, you overhear your favorite man, the man you love more than ever now after actually getting to spend time with him (I'm imagining Lucifer), telling some of the others to not get too close or cocky cause you. Are. HIS. and his alone. They can humor you, should you decide you wanna spend time with them, but your heart is off limits.

You're not only questioning this in your mind as you listen but you're also a little annoyed with him. Like, you LOVE love him but do you really not get a say?

Well, two can play at this game.

You decided you'll still give him attention and affection as always (it'd be suspicious and down right criminal if you don't), BUT now you're gonna get a little more close and personal to the others too. Specially the ones he seems to see as threats to "your relationship" with him. Just to fuck with him a bit and hopefully teach him not to make such statements without your thoughts on the matter (not that you'd be complaining)

And with that, you quietly stroll back up to your room like you never heard a thing to start planning your strategy to screw with your man who is claiming you before even confessing.

Oh yes, you were were gonna have quite a lot of fun with this. For awhile at least. 😉

Seen the request, so I shall deliver. Could you pls write a drabble or hcs of a yandere sunday with an isekaied reader?

Good timing because I'm actually planning a non yan isekai fic for him, I wonder if you saw that post. Here it is in case you haven't.

Sincerest apologies if this isn't the best, this fic is 100% emotionally charged by my obsession with him and frankly with a little bit of a high for passing a tricky exam. This is a treat for myself.

EDIT: Please check out this wonderful comic that @danijaci made me based off this fic!! 😭🫶

Picking up the cup from the fine oak table, you gazed towards the eerie galaxy before you, hundreds upon thousands of stars giving you a constant reminder of just how far from home you truly were. Taking a sip from the little porcelain cup you could not help but to hum in delight, the soft notes of the tea soothing your nerves ever so lightly as you pretended to ignore the heavy gaze which lingered at the back of your head.

Even from this distance, it was easy to tell that Sunday was eager to approach you. Still, he kept his distance and made a silent offering in the form of the very tea you drank at the moment.

Anything is better than Himeko's coffee but you were never going privy her to that.

In a not so distant past, all of this was nothing but fiction. The Express, the story, the characters - it was all nothing more but fiction, something to pass the time as your days went on and on, the same monotony repeating each and every day.

It was hard to not think about your friends and family, what sane person would not? Lord knows how they must be feeling right now, worried sick out of their minds with indescribable sorrow. In their eyes you had merely vanished, not a single trace to be found. For all they knew you could have been left for dead in a ditch somewhere, beaten, bloodied and broken, never to see the light again or if they were even more inclined to be morbid, you had succumbed to a fate worse than death. Death at the very least grants you finality, that all is over regardless of what happened moments prior.

But that was simply not the case for you.

Here you were, lounging about in a comfortable chair as you pondered on your old life while enjoying tiny little luxuries, far away where none of your loved ones could reach you. However, life was funny sometimes because it had some fun games in store.

Sunday was very kind upon arrival. He made sure to always be there for you, always checking up on you, always there to keep you company. You were already smitten with him but now to actually witness him in the flesh was just... Indescribable. You got along like a house on fire, so much so that the crew liked to tease that you ought to just get a room. Sunday, ever the gentleman, would just brush their words aside and assure you to not take their playful little jabs to heart.

You wouldn't say anything, resorting to merely giving him a smile but not because of what he said but rather of what he did not - never once did he actually shut down those perverse accusations. Never, not even once did he deny them.

He became an emotional crutch, someone to whom you would come running to when things got tough and he would always welcome you with open arms. Sunday would hold you tenderly, his serene voice dripping with honey along with a tender drop of ecstasy, for his excitement with holding you would just show itself sometimes. His grip would be too tight at certain moments, never quite ready to let you leave. His hugs were warm and comforting, he always smelled so good too. He smelled like kindness and sweet wildflowers, always lulling you back to him no matter the time. In dark corners and perhaps even under the watchful eyes of the crew, Sunday would wrap his scarf around your head, securing the soft fabric in order to provide you with a sense of comfort.

It was humiliating just how much you would try to inhale his scent as much as possible. You wanted it etched deep inside your memory, you wished for it to linger on your very soul and for it to follow you everywhere you went, sticking to your being like tar. The fabric of the scarf would muffle your ears a little but someone was always chatting in the background. Be it March bickering with Dan Heng, Mr Yang scolding someone for doing something they were not supposed to, or just Conductor Pom Pom trying to give a speech, all of it was irrelevant.

You were ready to kill whoever would try to pry you away from sweet Sunday. That thought came often which had left you worried - just what kind of person had you become? Regardless, you kept your mouth shut and had no plans of sharing such violent sentiments with anyone, particularly not to the one you held so dear.

When it was time to part for the evening you would bid the crew farewell and wished them a good night. You always made sure to take a few extra seconds with Sunday, just to ease your aching soul. He would tell you to sleep well and would see you in the morning, ready to take on any endeavor that crossed your paths.

As everyone parted ways, Sunday would wander off somewhere dark and distant, somewhere no one could see nor hear him. He would fall to his knees and clutch his chest in agony, fat tears streaming down his face as he did everything he possibly could to steady his raging heart. In a rush he would reach for the scarf which clung around his neck, his grip tighter than iron as he would bring it close to his nose. Taking a large, deep breath, Sunday was greeted by your familiar scent which would promptly calm his poor heart.

He sometimes wondered if his heart would start bleeding from the pain due to the sheer intensity of his emotions.

This was wrong, everything about this was not right and it hurt. Sunday was obviously ill but he had no clue on how to fight this... This emotion, this white hot feeling of need whenever you stood by his side. He started to choke on the air around him and fell into an abrupt coughing fit but even then, he could bring himself to remove the scarf from the lower part of his face.

Sunday wept and sobbed, filthy snot coming out from his nose but he could not handle that now. He needed you, Oh Heavenly Aeons, how he needed you. However was he going to tell you how he felt? How, oh how was he going to express the sheer magnitude of his true thoughts? He would scare you off, he was sure of it.

Even with this pain, even with these clipped wings and bleeding heart, Sunday had never felt so alive, so harrowingly present in the moment whenever he was with you.

Perhaps, he was doing himself a kindness by just letting you be. Drink your tea, be at peace.

He can always just make you another cup if you so desired.

Without knowing, you both haunted each other in the most agonizing way known to mankind and neither was strong enough to face the reality of the situation.

[lorelune]

o4o: extended author's note

🎀 masterlist 🎀

WOW!! i genuinely... genuinely cannot believe i finished this piece 😭 like truly. around a year ago, i was cooking up the idea for an a/b/o collab and to think... almost a year later i have finished my piece :3c

o4o was originally just supposed to be a one shot featuring beloved omega jing yuan and his heat, but the idea expanded into much more fleshed out world, reader and dynamic. i truly never intended to go explicit with the mommy kink but you Know. sometimes things simply occur and you gotta go with the flow!!

omegaverse is so interesting to me in so many ways... the social workings of secondary gender, biology, and the relationships characters can have based on secondary gender too. i've had this very clear vision of scent gland anatomy in my minds eye for literally two years and it felt sooo nice to get it down in part iii for folks to like see. the vision. in o4o there is also this element of queerness that like... cannot exist in the real world! which is very fun and fascinating to me as an author to explore. both reader and jing yuan are omegas and the dynamic they with one and other is inherently informed by their secondary gender, but they express that secondary gender in very different, complimentary ways.

when i was cooking up o4o, i wanted to try and lean away from the reading of a/b/o which boils down to "alpha = stereotypical man" and "omega = stereotypical woman". femininity and masculinity are socially-informed concepts, and thereby change by concept and time, and i really wanted to (and attempted to) keep some amount of like... liminality to their expression. though jing yuan is perceived an alpha by the xianzhou alliance at large (because he is large, strong, and has a commanding presence), this is like... mostly coincidence and fabrication on his part. he cannot help that he is large (a great deal of which is soft omega pudge anyways!! and a slow metabolism adds to it), he's strong due to his lifetime of hard training, and his 'presence' is something he's like... constructed and honed because it is convenient and serves him well.

reader is more genuinely stereotypically in their world (at least what we see of them!!). they're a bit of a weakling, a lot of a crybaby, and very easy to coddle!! more like an omega kit than a grown one to be so real (see why jing yuan takes a liking to you LOL). but there's like embers of reader that distinctly aren't this stereotypical omega. they traveled to the Luofu alone, and settled without a pack or family unit. in part iii, we get a peak into reader's family, and you get a glimpse of reader's family, which is very non-traditional as well. they want to claim bite jing yuan. there's like!! in general lots of playing with perceptions in this piece. it's been very fun. playing with the expected bounds and outside of as well!!!

i DO have a sequel planned, a fun little spanking fic from reader's pov that truly i have been dying to write hehe. getting to do a deep dive on kink like o4o is very fun and like... rewarding. playing the long game on a kink to set up the Brain reasons why the characters involve enjoy it is like... long and hard. but very!!! gratifying. i'm excited to revisit these two, as both crybaby reader and milfy jy have altered my brain chemistry in unknoweable ways <3

finishing this piece would truly. TRULY. not have been possible without the cheering and support of multiple beta readers over each part. my pal honey helped out on parts i and ii and sadly doesn't have a tumblr anymore, but their jy thirsting and thoughts were VITAL!! @harmonydove was such huge help combing through part iii for clarity and cielo (@aimfor-theheart) did a much-needed final read through despite not going to hsr. and. AND!! truly truly TRULY this fic could not survived, lived and thrived with the continued, in-dms support of beloved mermie (@ofmermaidstories). she read this fic as i wrote and listened to my many questions and anxieties as this piece grew and grew. forever grateful. to all of these lovely folks!!!

thank YOU reader. for immersing yourself in this story and its world, and enjoying. truly there is nothing more that i desire as i writer. enjoy this piece this holiday season and be well 💗 🎀 💦

— lore 🩷

[beevean]

You know I actually think that Lisa flat out forgetting the fact that she had begged Dracula not to commit genocide, just so that she and him can have their happy ending, is actually far more problematic than any case of fridging from the games

Of course fridging a female character just to further a male character's story is absolutely wrong, but N!Lisa's very personality and character motivation for even loving Dracula in the first place (ie:the fact that he still had some good in him and the possibility for him to learn to coexist peacefully with humans) got completely flipped over their head just so that her husband could get an (undeserved) happy ending

The former sacrifices the character's life, the latter destroys their literal character

It essentially treats Lisa as Dracula's "reward" for...doing all the fucked up things that he did. It's an actual, textual example of objectifying a female character

I noticed some time ago that the show doesn't really judge Dracula's action morally, only logically.

Even the most Alucard can say is that it's a shame that his father won't use his genius and knowledge for good because the CHURCH BAD has pushed him to do evil, or that his victory would lead to an empty world. He never points out how utterly disrespectful Dracula is being to his wife's (Alucard's mother) memory: she wanted to help mankind, she (allegedly) cared about mankind, and he's honoring her by exterminating her own species that she wanted to help and heal. That is fucked up, and it shows that Dracula may have loved Lisa, but he did not respect her for who and what she was. But the story only beats you over the head with how stupid and shortsighted and self-destructive Dracula's mass slaughter is, eventually warping it to "ohhh he's just trying to kill himself the long way around 🥺 poor depressed little meow meow 🥺" yeah sure uhhhhh his demons ate babies and he was willing to let vampires starve to death as a price to literally kill everyone. If he only wanted to kill himself, nothing stopped him from stepping into the sun.

I also pointed out how Lisa shows no concern at all for her own son, not thinking about him in her last moments of her life, gleefully leaving him to his grief once she comes back to life (which is one of the parts in NFCV that personally insult me). Why? Because it's all about Dracula. In SoTN, Lisa talks to Alucard, she wants him to do the right thing, and only at the end she expresses her love for her husband - love, not "please stop my hubby from committing genocide because I know he will". Sure, painting Lisa as some sort of cross between Jesus and the Virgin Mary isn't exactly peak female representation because women are not inherently pure saints, but you know, it's still better than Lisa being written as the spineless wife of the Devil and a shitty deadbeat mother while still meant to be seen as this kindhearted person and Dracula's only morality chain!

I really, really am uncomfortable with how whitewashed Dracula is, and how this reflects on the other characters.

And yes, the end really is sick from this point of view. I keep bitching about Lenore and Isaac's "redemption arcs", because one is still the callous abuser she was in S3 behind all the "bonding" and the other woke up one day and decided to become a hero but more or less only to feel good about himself and his life. But Dracula... didn't even go through that. He didn't even pretend to change, or realize he was in the wrong. He died only lamenting that he was killing his boy! That was what broke him! He was horrified that he was about to kill "Lisa's greatest gift to him"! Which sure, it's a wholesome sentiment, but he didn't even have the time to think that maybe his plan was just fucked up from the start. And he gets a saccharine good ending on a silver platter? Lisa is just forgetting that she died with the fear that her husband would kill everyone in her name, screaming to please not hurt her because Dracula is worse than Satan?

It really feels like he was a toddler throwing a temper tantrum, and Lisa was the pacifier stuffed in his mouth to keep him calm. There, wife back, now stop being evil. Not because he had a change of heart, but because he got what he wanted.

That ending is objectively awful under so many aspects, from a characterization and lore standpoints, and I know it was shoved there only as a response to backlash to S3's bleakness. No thematic relevance whatsoever - Isaac's comment that Hector shouldn't bring Dracula back because he has earned his rest feels like the remains of a first draft in retrospect. It's just "yay everyone not named Hector lives happily ever after <3 only good feels all around <3"

[gremlingottoosilly]

I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)

Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3

“Just one more game, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. I don’t want to end at a loss.” You didn’t want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasn’t much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didn’t want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin. 

You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched – really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm. 

You also watched him play – and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after. 

So, like a good girlfriend would – you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college – you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well. 

— I’ll find something to eat, alright? 

He didn’t respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal – not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged. 

— Nah, stay here. I don’t want my father to see you. 

— Ah…your father is at home? 

You never heard anyone else being at the house – big house, you must admit, and it’s embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didn’t know what his father’s name was. 

— Returned from his fucking deployment. He’d ask too many questions about you. 

— You didn’t tell him about me? 

Ah, now you’re hurt a little bit. You knew it wasn’t anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly. 

— He never asked. Not like he cares too much, but…

An apathetic dad, huh. 

You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriend’s horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart. 

— If you don’t want me to come and meet him, I can go home. 

He doesn’t answer because his queue is finally coming to another match – you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed. 

You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen. 

*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away – and now he can’t even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid. 

König closes the door of the refrigerator – of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house – a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished. 

With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge – and then he almost stumbles across an angel. 

Scheisse

Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young – his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, but…

The thing is – he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son. 

You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, You’re dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isn’t dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl. 

— Oh! Sorry. It’s yours, isn’t it? 

You give him his cookies back – but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue – god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants aren’t enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasn’t seen a woman in three months and hasn’t had sex in the past few years. 

You lick the crumbs from your fingers – it’s such a deliberate action that he can’t believe he actually sees it, and it’s not even something from porn he used to like. 

— Ja. You can have it. 

He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it. 

— Thank you, sir. I’m��well, I assume if Paul didn’t introduce me to you…I’m his girlfriend. Nice to meet you. 

You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest – but he can’t be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him. 

Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home. 

— Girlfriend? He never spoke about you. 

You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile – too real. He can’t handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so you’d stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom. 

He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you. 

— Ah. Um. We’re…I guess we’re not at this stage yet. 

— Knowing him, you’ll never be, Schatz. 

You look at him immediately – you’re offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar – and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce. 

— What do you mean by this, sir? 

You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes – and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally. 

Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys – and in the romantic field, it’s even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being – and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid. 

He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing – a good girl won’t be with his son if she isn’t stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship. 

The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone – he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until you’re crying under him. He can’t do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, but…well, quite frankly, his son doesn’t deserve you. 

König is. 

— I won’t sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a Scheiß Arschloch…fucking asshole, that is. I’m surprised he brought home someone as cute as you. 

You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paul’s dad is a…interesting man. 

Tall, broad, very muscular – even his baggy house clothes aren’t really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because you’re a good girl, you don’t look at your boyfriend’s dad like this. 

König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman – your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your “date” while you’re lusting over his father. 

Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too. 

— Paul isn’t all that bad, sir. 

“He at least has a nice dick,” you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong – if he weren’t sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from porn…not really your thing. 

You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all. 

König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks. 

God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably won’t take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies. 

He can afford to retire and never worry about money again – but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right? 

You look like a good candidate. 

— I’m sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t deserve you, Schatz. 

He is shitty at flirting, it’s not his forte – he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he can’t flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isn’t something he is good for, this is why his wife has left. 

— I…not sure we should be having this conversation here. 

You’re a good girl, and it’s infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldn’t be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you aren’t opposed to the idea. König doesn’t understand if he likes that you’re so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty – but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body. 

— You want to see the bedroom then?

Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs – it might look involuntary like he didn’t exactly want for it to be placed here, but you aren’t dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, you’re too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him. 

— Sir, this is very…

He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace – you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isn’t a strong man in regard of morals, he doesn’t see anything wrong with fucking his son’s girlfriend – if the girl is up to it. And if she isn’t…well, he better make sure she is. 

— What is it, Schatz? Paul won’t hear us in his headphones.

You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape – his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and you’re horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you don’t want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway. 

Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them – it’s probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all. 

— I don’t want to break his heart. 

— He doesn’t have one. 

You’re lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again – a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much – you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, you…

God, you feel like a slut, and you like it. 

Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted. 

You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back – but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game. 

— Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later. 

“Later” sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you can’t help but compare him to his son – and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didn’t cum. 

You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions – you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like “daddy, please” 

König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable. 

— Daddy, ja? God, you’re dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later. 

He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked – he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and you’re so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before. 

He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge – make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people. 

He can be good for you – but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady right. 

— So wet for me…such a filthy thing, I didn’t know my son dated a whore. 

— N…not a whore, please…

He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him – you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid. 

— Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking young…

— W…we really shouldn’t… — Tshhh, don’t think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. — I’m not…

— Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.

He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy – meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though you’re used to taking Paul’s size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second. 

It feels so wrong, you still aren’t sure if you want him to touch you like this. 

It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick – maybe because you haven’t gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off – but now…

You aren’t ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now – you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriend’s absent father, and you love every second of it. 

Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm – it’s good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed. 

König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good. 

So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole – taking the worst traits of his father. 

— Don’t cry, Schatzen. You’re okay, it felt good, didn’t it? 

— W…we shouldn’t have. Shit. I’m sorry, it was a m…god, I need to tell Paul. 

— I’ll tell him. 

— No! — I will tell my asshole of a son that you’re my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck. 

— I need to return to my dorm. 

— And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of this…but we can afford to go a bit off board, ja? 

He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once – you don’t have the heart to say no. Never did. You’re a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right. 

He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin – you’re so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you don’t even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen. 

Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked. 

— W…what the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again – deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. You’re stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are. 

— She’ll make a good step mom, ja? 

You don’t even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes. 

[tasteleeknow]

LIVING IN THE RUINS

minho x fem!reader. 2k words. minors dni. best friends to lovers. soft!minho. angst. fluff. jealousy. emotional hurt/comfort. smut with feelings, in a tent.

“Excuse me?”

You blink at the stranger in front of you. She seems to materialise before your eyes. You’d zoned out again and missed the attention your best friend had clearly been receiving from strangers in the crowded room. “I was wondering if I could get your number?” she asks, eyes fixed on Minho’s. She blinks quickly a few times, her long dark lashes fluttering much like your heart in your chest. 

She hasn’t looked at you once despite your close proximity. You’re so close to the object of her attention in fact, your thigh brushes against Minho’s jeans under the table. 

He shifts beside you, sitting up straighter in the booth. “Oh,” he says, clearly taken off guard as well. “Thank you. I mean that’s — I don’t—” 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks with a small tilt of her head. 

“No,” Minho answers quickly, incapable of lying. His discomfort radiates off him. You’d spent years learning his emotional tells. “I mean—” 

“He’s not into women,” you interrupt, finally drawing her attention to you. She blinks before her eyes drop down to your chest and back to your eyes, like she’s completely taken aback by your presence. It’s impossible, you know that logically. Still, she puts on a good performance. “Sorry,” you add. 

Her lips curve into an unconvincing smile. “No worries,” she says. “The hot ones never are.” 

The whole exchange is as short as it is ordinary. How many tipsy girls work up the courage to ask the pretty man across the bar for his number? You would bet money on it happening multiple times over somewhere across the planet at any given moment. It’s normal. Mundane. Still, you know it’ll chip a little more of your carefully built wall away. A chisel to stone, slow and steady. The only problem is that it’s been chipped at for years. You can feel the fragility of it these days, each chisel etch feels alot like when you’re down to the end of a game of jenga. 

Any move now will cause it to crash and fall. 

She hadn’t considered for a moment you might have been together — not when she’d spotted him across the room, clearly with you — and not when she’d gotten close and blatantly ignored your comfortable proximity to each other. Her question about his relationship status had been an afterthought, a possibility she hadn’t considered until faced with a response other than ‘yes’. She’d been expecting a yes.

The thought that he might be with you, might be attracted to you, was unconsidered. You wonder if she’d discussed it with her friends. ‘No,’ they might have said. ‘There’s no way he’s with her.’

Minho is quiet as the petite brunette turns on her heels and disappears back into the mass of people. His red ears give his embarrassment away. 

You nudge his shoulder, rocking him out of his trance. “Hey,” you prod. “Alright?” 

The smile he offers you is a little lopsided — very Minho. “Always,” he says. 

—

Your annual camping trip is just like the year before. Your small group of friends sets up camp in your usual spot. Everyone climbs into their usual tents. Everyone assumes you and Minho will be sharing, as always. 

You’re not sure why it hurts so much. They assume that nothing would ever happen between you. None of the other girls share a tent with a guy they aren’t dating. You’re the exception. Because Minho would never want you. 

He notices your low mood later that night. The group separates in the dark to play flashlight tag and as you find yourself wandering a secluded patch of the campsite, you know he knows. His attention is on you instead of where he’s walking. You almost scream when he falls into apparent nothingness. 

“I’m fine,” he quickly reassures you, pulling himself up from the ground. “Just dropped my glasses.” 

“God, you scared me.” 

It takes you both at least ten minutes to find them, relying purely on touch alone. It's too dark to see much at all without a light and using your phones would give your position away. 

You’re grateful for the darkness when you reach up and place his frames gently on his face. It hides the heat in your cheeks when you brush chocolate brown hair behind his ears, ensuring you’ve placed them properly. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, close enough that his breath warms your lips. 

You’re also grateful just to be near him, you realise. Just to know him. You love him. 

You love him. 

It’s an earth shattering realisation to have while playing flashlight tag in the middle of nowhere. You need to escape. You can’t. You’re sharing a tent with him. 

The situation isn’t helped when later in the night one of the girls with big bright eyes and a gentle smile makes a very clear move on him. You were used to it. People loved him. 

You loved him. 

It’s a stupid thing to cause the wall to finally crumble. It’s humiliating really. But when he laughs at something she whispers in his ear: it happens. 

It falls. 

You’re pathetic without it. 

All you can do is hide from him, escape to the tent and pretend to be so tired you’ve fallen asleep before he can investigate. It’s not something you do. Not with Minho. He knows you so well hiding from him is just as stupid as it is pathetic. He’ll know. 

Still, you can pretend. He won’t know as long as you’re unconscious. You can put it off until morning. 

It takes a long time for him to fall asleep. You lie there staring at the canvas of the tent for what feels like hours, the sounds of him tossing and turning continuing for so long you almost give up. 

But then he’s still. His breathing seems to even out. He’s asleep. 

That’s when you let yourself cry. Quietly at first; silent aching sobs. 

What a time for the wall to crumble. You wonder if you have the energy to rebuild. You’ll have to find it. The alternative is letting Minho go entirely, removing him from your life and letting the ruins erode away over a long, long time. 

Not an option. 

“Hey,” Minho’s soft voice calls. Shit. You wipe clumsily at your eyes and sodden cheeks. “Hey, what’s going on? What happened?” he questions as his palm rests gently against your shoulder. 

You should face him. You can’t hide. You know it. 

“No-thing,” you whimper, breath catching between each syllable. It’s that awful breathless kind of sobbing, the type that leaves you unable to inhale fully, let alone speak. 

He rolls you over onto your back. He isn’t rough — but it’s with enough strength you’re completely unable to resist him. 

“What is it?” he says again, tone much more forceful now. He isn’t letting it go. He looks down at you with wide eyes, like he’d never been asleep at all. 

You shake your head. 

His gentle thumbs move to your cheeks to attempt to wipe away the mess you’d left behind. He rests on one arm, leaning over you so he can give each cheek the same treatment. It’s a curious instinct, to wipe away someone's tears — like it has any effect on the person’s pain at all. It’s the best we can often do, you suppose. 

“Just focus on breathing,” he says. “Just breathe.” His hand stays against your cheek, fingers resting on your neck by your ear — featherlight. 

Breathing is easy, in theory. Breathing. Breathing. Breathing. His lips part to join you, guide you. His lips are still a little red from his bedtime routine, his tinted vaseline usually lasting him the entire night. 

“That’s it,” he soothes when you finally manage a few steady breaths in a row. “That’s good. You’re okay.” 

They’re simple words of comfort. The kind of thing anyone would say to a person in distress, but they settle something in your chest. You were okay. He was yours in a way that was more than nothing. He cared in a way that felt so genuine it was hard to be dissatisfied with the nature of it at all. 

“Did something happen today?” he asks, still leaning over you. It’s a vulnerable position to be in. It mirrors how you know this conversation will go. Your wall is a crumbled mess. You have no defences against him. 

“Not really.” 

His eyebrows pull together. 

“Nothing worth this,” you clarify. 

“Tell me.” 

“It’s not… It’s embarrassing.” 

His lips curve in a tiny lopsided smile, just a hint of amusement. “Friends are for sharing embarrassing things with. And I’m your friend,” he says. “Aren’t I?” 

You blink quickly a few times, desperate to keep your tears at bay. Then you nod weakly. 

“Why do you look so miserable about it?” he says, tone light and teasing. 

Your lips wobble a little as you struggle with the words attempting to burst forth. They pound and burn and demand to be set free. You lose the battle. “I love you.” 

He blinks, eyes flicking across your face. 

The gates are open now. You’re turned loose. “I love you so much,” you sob. “It hurts. It hurts everyday and it just keeps getting worse and I can’t—” 

His lips cut you off, a warm, heart-stopping, and very much welcome interruption. He’s kissing you. He’s—

“Stop,” he mumbles against your wet, salty lips. “Stop hurting. Please.” His next kiss is unbearably soft, a brush against your upper lip. “Please,” he whispers. 

You nod dumbly.

He rewards you with a collection of gentle kisses across your cheeks, replacing the remnants of your tears with the sticky wetness of his moisturised lips. You imagine the slight red marks he must leave behind. 

He settles over you properly at some point. You’re too distracted by the path of his lips to notice exactly when. But then his arms are by your head, caging you under him in a way that makes you hope for the universe to halt all progression forward. This was enough; everything. 

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips finally. “I’m… sorry for letting you think I don’t. I’m a coward.” 

“No,” you chastise quickly as you tangle your fingers in his hair. “Don’t say shit like that.” 

“I—” 

“It hurts me… and you told me to stop hurting.” 

His head drops to your neck… then, with a soft press of his lips to your skin, “Then I’ll never do it again.” 

Every move he makes is gentle when the slow, indulgent kisses turn into exploring hands and whispered pleas for more. Each of his whisper-soft words of affection sweeps away a crumbled section of your wall, clearing the space to build something entirely new. He’s warm, so warm as his bare torso rests on yours — as he finally presses inside you and sucks a mark into your neck to join the rest he’s left. “Doesn’t hurt?” he asks, stilling as he fills you completely. 

“No,” you gasp. “No, you’re… it’s—” His lips take the words from your mouth, a little messier than he’s been before. When his hips roll into yours you can’t help grasping at him like he might suddenly get up and leave — fingers tangling in his hair desperately.

“I got you,” he mumbles against your lips, heavy breaths mingling with your own. “I got you…” 

When he eventually spills inside you, flooding you with more of his warmth, you’re crying again. But this time it doesn’t hurt; this time it’s a release. The tears that he kisses from your face afterwards — they wash away the rest of the rubble.

[hanasnx]

" GIVE ME THE SWEETEST GOODBYE THAT I EVER DID RECEIVE " — peter parker.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: takes place during the events of the marvel's spider-man 2 game. WARNINGS: fem reader | established relationship | morning sex mention | mild exhibitionism | sex against a window.

"You forgot your lunch again." are words PETER PARKER has heard too many times. He spins in place, disengaging from his work to face you, his girlfriend, who so graciously conquered his paper bagged lunch and retrieved it for him like his knight-in-shining-armor.

"Knew I was forgetting something." he murmurs, receiving the sack from you and stealing a greeting kiss from your lips in the same motion.

"Yeah, you left in kind of a hurry this morning." you reply with an impish grin tugging at your lips, leaning your palms at the edge of his desk. You meet his eyes over your shoulder, noting his knowing smile.

He approaches you from behind, lowering his voice to speak in your ear. "Well, that's because someone wouldn't let me." The lunch crinkles as he sets it down, and he hesitates to return to his work when you're here clearly vying for some attention, bringing up this morning of all things...

"Oh, right, because it was all me." you retort sarcastically, breaking exchange of a look to spy on his monitor. You've got a good head on your shoulders, but the stuff Pete does has you at a loss. It's gibberish written across his screen that he no doubt understands and could teach a class on. The thought of his competency drifts your mind elsewhere to the more alluring traits he took on before he left for work. How curious his hands were traversing your body after waking up next to you, kneading your bare form under covers, tucking himself behind you with his morning wood until that confidence bought him some sleepy sex. You heat up, and bite your lip at the memory.

You snap out of your trance, and make more conversation before you excuse yourself so he can get back to work. "Where is everybody?" you ask, voicing your observation. Since you got in, you haven't seen anybody.

Peter pours some coffee into a paper cup, fixing it up how you like it. Steam rises past the rim as he stirs it, and he draws his hand up to suck some sweetness off of his index finger. Your chest jumps, the residual recollection of what it's like to be filled stings your insides. Shifting your weight from leg to leg gives you the subtlest of frictions, and you try to conceal your growing interest by averting your eyes. He brings you the warm cup, handing it to you gently as he looks out through the glass of his office to the lobby. "Harry gave them the rest of the day off. It was in preparation for some repairs—" He glances at you during his explanation, and when you flash a questioning expression, he clarifies. "—er, for the particle accelerator. Apparently, there was some mistake with scheduling so Harry's out trying to get it sorted. I figured I should at least get something done while I'm here waiting it out."

You enter in a well-timed joke. "You should do me." Peter eyes you thoughtfully.

It was not a joke, and it was excellently timed.

"Did you know I've always wanted to fuck in your—mm—office?" you ask, panting while he yanks you back on his dick. Pressed up against the window that overlooks the lobby, your breath fogs it up. Your hands brace flat against it, its temperature cooling your heated skin, indenting your perked nips.

Peter's chuckle through his nose sounds behind you, and it widens your intoxicated grin. "S'not just mine, baby. What's he gonna say when he sees your tit-prints all over the glass?" Some of the stuff Peter says really gets you, his words shooting straight through you as his dirty talk often does. You moan in response, sucking a breath through your teeth right after, biting your lip hard as he plows your pussy. His steady hands on your hips make sure you can't recoil too much and run away too far, he keeps you right where he wants you so easy.

"We could've kept more clothes on, Pete." you gasp, your tone reminiscent of admonishment even though you loved how he flicked your shirt up to squeeze your tits between the window and your body. Knowing him, he'd been waiting to do that since you walked in.

"Now where's the fun in that?"

"You sound like you wanna get caught."

"You think I haven't thought about showing you off?"

[rizsu]

ꪆ୧ ── NOWHERE TO RUN ┊ FACE IT ﹑ JJK. ⤿ starring: sukuna ryomen ◟ megumi fushiguro.

꒰ excuses or oblivious ﹢ one way or another, they're gonna be hit with the question “what are we?” — sorta.

𖧷 · love, ‘su: writer's block had me so bad the only thing i couldve done was 𝓭𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓽 : 𝓳𝓳𝓴 𝔁 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

SUKUNA RYOMEN ⟡ he’ll never answer you.

“why?” you questioned him.

your voice held a tone he's not quite familiar with — it's confusing him.

you've laid sukuna flat on the bed, straddling him so he's forced to listen. trapping him under you was the only way left. sukuna's somewhat a strong man, it took barely ten percent of his energy to lift you off his desk and kiss you goodbye with sweet lies.

there's none of that now — at least during this moment. the night's fallen, he's off duties, and you're clearly not busy. there isn't room for any other variable that can counter your moment. you've calculated this meticulously.

sukuna doesn't answer. he busied his hand with the hem of your skirt, focusing his eyes more on the fabric than yours that held every unspoken emotion you felt.

the silence fails to bother you. you continued with your question despite him giving his attention to the clothes that adorn you instead of the person wearing it.

“is it a game? a push and pull game with me? you seem to enjoy deflecting.”

your once laid out palm on his chest fists the shirt, slightly tugging it. he still fiddles with your skirt, but his eyes finally found yours.

“hmm, not sure. i don't really enjoy games like that.”

a lazy smile appears on him, complimenting his visuals further.

usually you'd mirror his expressions but this time there's no mocking smile. furrowed eyebrows and a frown appeared.

“amazing, your humor never fails to amaze me.”

“the others do say i have some humor in me.”

“that's not how i—”

“i know,” he sighs, “i already know what answer you want from me— or what answer you want to hear.”

sukuna emphasizes on the last few words, tilting his head at your expression.

you're slightly puzzled. is it truly that you want to hear an answer that will satisfy you or the truth? even that brings along the question of what is the truth?

you gulped, picking at the skin on your bottom lip with your teeth.

“stop fucking with my head,” you muttered.

“then let's call it a night.” he shrugs, tapping on your thigh.

you ignore his signal to get off him. to hell with him.

a heavier sigh leaves sukuna. he has work to return to in the morning, it's quite late into the night, and he clearly isn't allowed to sleep in a comfortable position.

“fine, do what you want, but you should get some sleep as well.” his arm stretches out, cupping your face.

his palm's warm, making you press your cheek against it.

“lean down,” he says.

you're suspicious but went along with his words. surely you wouldn't come to regret it, right?

quite the opposite. the moment you were an inch away from noses touching, his hand moved from cupping your face to behind your head, pushing you down for a kiss.

“goodnight,” he whispered, pulling away from the kiss.

yet another failure added to your list.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO ⟡ well, he had a different idea.

megumi's at the dining table, enjoying his drink as he picks back up on the page he bookmarked before bed. a proper way to start his day.

nobara's also at the dining table, with both hands crossed over her chest. not a proper way to start her day.

she's been meaning to get into it with megumi since... two days ago! what happened two days ago? she met with a dear friend she brags about and listened to relationship problems.

according to said friend, it feels as though a certain guy had lead them on. nobara, being a good friend, assured them that the guy hadn't mean it but this was an obvious attempt of comfort.

when said friend described the guy and his behaviour, she felt a chill down her spine. the description felt oddly familiar... perhaps a bit too familiar. she's sure she knew the guy, but who is it?

it was only when the sentence “with his stupid fucking hair” left the dear friend, her putting-clues-together function turned on.

the guy was megumi fushiguro, her dormmate. and also a dear friend.

ever since that day she's been planning to confront him but she procastinated. this was partially due to her not being told directly by her dormmate that he's in a ‘relationship’ so it felt like she eavesdropped.

as megumi took the final sip of his drink, he carefully placed it on the coaster. he read one more full page of the comic before he questioned nobara with no eye contact.

“is something bothering you?”

“yes! well, technically it's not me but...” nobara trails off, she's not quite sure continue.

taking a deep breath, she slams her both palms on the table, leaning in to gather megumi's attention.

“so there's this friend right?”

“yeah.”

“and they're having issues with their relationship. so, the guy kinda lead them on by being all boyfriend-y, i assume, and giving off subtle hints. whenever things get quote-on-quote advanced, the guy somehow takes the relationship two steps back. they think they're reading into it too much but also don't know what to do because the guy sometimes goes ghost.”

she hits him with all information at once. nobara rambled, ending it with a ‘phew’. her heartbeat raced for whatever reason. maybe it's because she's indirectly telling her friend he's a shitball.

“oh,” the perpetrator responds, closing his book with one hand.

if they were in a cartoon, there would surely be three question marks floating above nobara's head.

oh? just an oh? nothing else? she thinks, judging him.

“damn, that guy's an ass.” he extends his previous statement, not knowing that he just called himself an ass.

“well...!” a sweat bead forms on nobara's forehead. “what if — just what if i told you that guy is you?”

“me? you jest.”

“i fucking wish! i'm talking about you and whatever you have going on with (y/n),” she mumbles the last words, taking her dormmate's sandwich for herself.

megumi's eyebrow raises. he doesn't like what he's hearing. him? leading someone on? that someone being you? what's with the sudden twist?

“that's... hmm.” he crosses his arms across his chest, leaning back into the chair, “i thought we were already in a relationship— (y/n) and i that is.”

the sandwich wasn't a pleasant experience. upon hearing megumi's words, she immediately choked. the twists just kept coming.

“you—” a cough interrupts. “you both are fucking stupid.”

“shit — should i go meet with (y/n)?” megumi asks with urgency, staring at nobara for an answer.

“that shouldn't even be a question. make haste!”

[pedriscroquettes]

𝐁𝐘𝐀𝐊 ✮ FLORIAN WIRTZ

summary. it’s kind of pathetic the way the two of you always come crawling back to each other.

warnings. emotional warfare. florian is down bad. light smut but heavy feelings. florian is lowkey pathetic in this. 18+

gabri speaks! unfortunately i am a florian girlie. anyways i’m back! heavily inspired by byak by alvaro diaz ft. rauw alejandro.

THE CROWD GROANS as florian hits the crossbar for the second time that night. the camera man makes sure to zoom in on him as his hands go up in frustration. florian stares at the goalkeeper in disbelief as he runs back into his position. another missed chance, another bad rating, another night of him stressing himself out. if there was one person in all of germany that night happy about his performance it was you.

your relationship with the player was controversial, what was once a promising relationship had turned sour, and quickly. the two of you had mutually decided that a committed relationship wasn’t in the cards for either of you. it had grown toxic to the point where you’d flirt with his teammates on purpose to provoke him which worked because you’d always end up in his bed and never in a foreign room. in fact you couldn’t quite remember when was the last time you had hooked up with anyone else.

meanwhile the brunette found himself staring at his phone on the ride home. chatter and music filled the team bus yet only one thing clouded his mind, did you watch the match? he was hoping a teasing message of yours would already be in his notifications, and when he saw there’s wasn’t one he sighed. as his teammates argued over their errors and mistakes he couldn’t help opening the messages between the two of you. the countless deleted messages and hidden pictures as well as the timed ones made him remember the many nights the two of you would spend on the phone.

the sound of your voice filled his head and when he saw you were online he immediately turned off his phone. was it possible you had finally gotten tired of your messed up relationship?

“bro, are you okay?” kai asked seeing the state his teammate was in. florian’s leg was bouncing and his demeanor had changed dramatically.

“i’m fine, thanks.” he offered him a curt smile before staring out the window again.

he wasn’t fine, he was far from fine, in fact he felt worse than he did after missing the goal. he’s not sure why but as soon as the team arrives back to the hotel he’s on his way to your flat. he makes a quick stop at the chinese place the two of you like beforehand making sure he doesn’t show up empty handed. it was already pathetic enough that he was showing up past midnight he could at least make up an excuse with the food.

he hopes the black hoodie he wore is enough to hide his identity from bystanders. although with all the pacing he does outside your hallway he hopes no one thinks he’s a robber. as he adjusts his hoodie he can’t help but think, why am i so nervous? after all it’s not the first time he knocks on your door at these hours.

“do you hate me?” is the first thing you hear as you open the door.

you study his frame and notice his disheveled hair and the training kit from the national team. you’ve never seen him so disorganized and upset — if that was the right word to use — you were amused. as his face grows concerned with your lack of answer you notice the takeout he has in his hands. the poor guy was either desperate or he had lost his mind. both of which could be true.

“what the fuck florian?” you look at him weird as you question him.

“you didn’t text me today.” he says as if that simple sentence answered your question.

“so what? i don’t text you every other week and you never show up at my apartment with food. what’s going on?” you’re even more confused than before.

“you always text me after a game.” he tries to explain like it’s the most logical thing ever.

you can’t help the half scoff and half laugh you let out. he couldn’t be serious right now. was he seriously at your apartment past midnight because he was freaking out over a message?

“okay seriously you need to get a girlfriend you’re starting to creep me out.” you joke.

“you say that while you’re wearing my jersey.” he l doesn’t even need you to turn around to know that you were wearing the leverkusen jersey he had gifted you months ago.

there’s a moment of silence between the two of you it’s entrancing. you stare at him and realize he’d made his way over to you immediately after the game. all because he was waiting for your message. meanwhile there’s something about you wearing his jersey for casually that makes you all more enchanting to him. there’s a mutual look between the two of you and in the blink of an eye his hands are on your waist, yours on his jaw, and his lips are on yours.

it’s poetic really the way he closes your door as he pushes you into your apartment and drops the takeout on your coffee table in the process. your hands already digging into his hair and his hold you tight as he carried you into your room. it’s all muscle memory. the darkness of your bedroom adds to the feeling of having him so close to you again.

“i think i-” he pauses not wanting to be so vulnerable in this predicament but you know what he wants to say. you freeze.

“florian you know i can’t. it didn’t work out the first time. i can’t do it again.” you grab his jaw making sure the two of you are making eye contact. his brown eyes captivate yours.

“i can’t either but i can’t live without you.” he whispers the end. “it will always be you.”

you drag his hand towards the waistband of your shorts. it would always be him too. the only person that consumed your every thoughts and the only person you were worried about getting hurt was him. always. you look into his eyes as he drags his fingers to your core and sigh as he begins to tease you. he’s also the only man you fantasize about.

“promise?” you ask him.

the moonlight barely allows you to see him fully but you catch the smirk on his face. the same one that had captivated you years ago at the bar. his fingers are so close to your needy hole. you can’t help but audibly gasp as he inserts them inside you causing an illicit groan from him. your nails dig into his shoulders as he starts fucking you with his digits. meanwhile he kisses you from your collarbone to your neck.

“i promise.” he whispers against your ear.

he pumps his fingers in and out of you slowly helping you reach your high. it was only fair you were treated right. it was small details like this that had you wondering why the two of you couldn’t just commit to each other. you’re distracted as he leaves marks on your neck and his fingers curve inside you. you can’t help the loud moans that leave your mouth as you reach your high. your hands dig into the sheets as you come around his fingers.

he continues kissing you as he begins to take his hoodie off. you’re quick to stop him before he begins undressing himself.

“do i need to remind you that you didn’t score today? you’re not getting any tonight.” you adjust your shorts.

“so you did watch the game then.” he wraps his arms around you pulling you closer to him.

“i always do.” you whisper as you cuddle into him.

that’s how you spend the rest of the night, snuggled into his body as it rains outside. it’s quite an intimate moment shared between the two of you. you’re not quite sure if you should be worried or content with the turn your relationship with florian took. you decide it’s rather late and with the way he holds you you don’t think much more. after all he promised and while you knew florian was many things he was not an oath breaker.

[simp-ly-writes]

Boss & Bothered

Pairing: Boss!Spencer Agnew x assistant!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: Spencer is your boss to a degree and you spent a large majority of time by his side that you begin thinking things about your boss an employee really should not be considering...

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, boss/employee relationship, creepy man, harassment, protective!spencer, implied offscreen- VERY suggestive themes, kissing.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,708

─ · · A/N: thank you for the ask, anon! 🫶 and if you know me personally, out of all the things you read, please don't read this one, I went into a different world while writing this... hahaha erm...

─────── · ·

You had a crush on your boss. As the assistant to the Smosh Games channel you spent almost every moment by his side and there was not a single odd task you had not done; like running to the thrift store to get ten red shirts or to the corner store when the kickstarter and assorted energy drinks were out of stock in the kitchen.

You loved you job and truly loved working beside Spencer and you did not know at what point when those friendly stares and touches had become romanticized in your head. From him always opening the door for you or reminding you to take a break (or another one), he never once took all the extra work you did around the studio for granted and maybe that was a cause for the rose-tinted glasses.

Yet when he would bring your favourite coffee order in the morning even when you had said every time that that was your part of the job, he would just wave a hand in your face, assuring you before walking over to his desk- his schedule for the day already printed (and colour-coded, obvriously) so that the day would move smoothly.

Yet even when the day did not, Spencer never snapped or showed any anger towards you. Still being the caring and understanding boss you knew him to be, boss, you remind yourself. Yet you both acted past your positions, you had met his friends outside of work, went out for drinks with him at the end of a long day and even had dinner at his place one time (or maybe it was two times? three times? cant be more than four times?).

But that was just it right? You were both friendly co-workers. Or well, boss and worker but Spencer never held his position above your own, or at least not when it was important. He would pull the boss card as a joke every now and then off-camera that you feigned annoyance to much to the enjoyment of everyone else who loved his on-going joke around the office. A joke was all this is, just some lighthearted teasing when he puts a fleeting hand on my shoulder to ensure I know it is a joke.

But that all seemed to change when a developer from a gaming studio came in to demo the game alongside the cast. Spencer would be starring in this video, you sat behind camera, ready and waiting with his phone and can of kickstarter as you sorted through emails on your tablet, unknowing to the presence beside you.

"Hey, do you know where the director is? I have a tight schedule to be on since I... need... to... be..." his words slowed as the sentence progressed before falling off completely as the developer look at you. His mouth slightly agape before quickly fixing his hair and jaw. Looking up from your tablet, shutting it off quickly as to not give away company secrets, you presented a friendly smile to the individual. "Sorry, could you repeat your question please? I was a little bit tied up on these emails," you say, tapping your fingers against the metal device to exaggerate your point.

"Oh, um, haha, yeah, I was-a looking for the director. Do you know where he is, love?" you cringe automatically at the nickname, leaning slightly away in your chair as you look around the room quickly trying to find Alex Tran. You begin to cringe up your spine, contracting into yourself when the developer takes a half step closer to your chair, you can hear his breathing in your ear that has your smile twitching before you stand to present more space between the two of you.

"I don't see him here at the moment, we are also shooting another video the next studio over. I'm sure as soon as the cast is done there in..." you click on Spencers phone to see the time, "...in 10 minutes. Do you have everything you need to run the software or is there anything else I can get you in the meanwhile?" you ask politely, hands gripping your tablet as the man smiles.

"Alright, thats okay, that you for letting me know. I could really go for a coffee if its not a hassle? Maybe I could also add my number-" you take a big sigh out in relief once hearing the door to the studio open. Alex, Spencer, Courtney, Amanda and Trevor all filing in one by one. Your eyes meet Spencer's as he pauses his conversation with Trevor, eyebrow raised in question as you tip your head towards the developer that stands back by your side.

Spencer's brows furrow as he walks over to you, a smile plastering itself against his features as he steps in between the two of you, extending his hand as a physical barrier. "Hi, Tyler is it? I'm Spencer the head of this channel and Alex over there will be directing the video. Apologies for the delay, Trevor, Courtney, and Amanda were all finishing a shoot. I hope you understand?" Spencer clarifies, pointing at everyone he mentions, tone leaving no rude for argument.

"Yes, this lovely sir/miss, told me. I never got your name sweetheart-" Spencer coughs, his shoulders tense as he looks over his shoulder at you, "Could you go check in with Alex and see if he's doing alright? I can see the set up from here," Spencer pulls his boss tone at you for the first time without a joke or fault and all you can do is nod, pivot on your heel and walk towards Alex.

"Everything alright there, superstar?" Alex teases. Supserstar, that's what the Games department staff called you, seeing you run around like a shooting star while managing a thousand jobs in one with grace, simply put a superstar and you were gracious for the name as you nod at Alex. "Yeah, a lot better now, he was... very friendly." You choose your words carefully, knowing that the developers team is sponsoring todays video and fuelling your pay check.

"Mhmm," Alex hums out, carefully watching Spencer speak with the developer. The passive aggressive undertone is a surprise to everyone in the room from how friendly Spencer usually was. "Spencer really seems worked up, did something happen during the last shoot?" You ask, refusing to turn yourself back around before the cameras roll.

"No, he actually ended up successfully losing Don't Win Mario Kart but I think this is a more recent than that thing, what exactly did the guy say to you?"

"Oh, well he was... nice. Just like I said, a bit too friendly for me upon first meeting. Kept calling me pet names and stuff like that, didn't get handsy or anything, must be a cultural thing," you say before subconsciously taking a drink from the open Kickstarter can without a second thought. "Makes sense then," Alex shrugs before walking over to the filming crew as you follow behind and sit back in your chair. "What makes sense then?" you wish to clarify yet receive no answer except a presence by your side.

"Hey, you doing okay? I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier to help," Spencer comments, taking his phone and drink from your hands with a tight smile that does not seem to reach his eyes. "Yeah, thank you handling it. I didn't want to seem rude to him-" you begin to clarify to your boss who cuts you off. "You did nothing wrong, you did everything right. I sorted out the rest, THAT shouldn't happen again," Spencer points out strongly before taking a sip of Kickstart.

"Oh," is all you manage to get out before Alex calls the cast to their positions and you open your tablet again and move back to those emails only to find your mind drifting, cheeks warming at Spencers protective display...but any other boss would do that right? Protect their employees from clients... and what about what Alex said earlier too...

Your thoughts are a whirlwind as you mindlessly reply to email after email and fix everyones schedules before sending them out for tomorrow morning. The cameras are still rolling as you fix yourself in your chair, trying to become more comfortable for only a five minute break to be called and you are standing up in an instant to update Spencer on all the new information you received.

Spencer stands right beside you, leaning against your chair, can in between his hands and glasses slipping down his nose as he watches you intently rambling on and on about the tight schedule him and Alex had after this shoot to maintain while also taking a dinner break. Yet what caught you off guard was how comfortable you felt being so close to him, your arms touching every time you breathed, his gaze so trained onto you that it held you confused as to why you reacted to negatively to the man before. Slowly looking over to Alex who was already looking between the two of you with a knowing smile.

─────── · ·

Since then the dynamic had changed in the office, or at least between you and Spencer. You both were closer (if that was thought possible by the rest of the staff), so close in fact that you both were called into Ian, Anthonys, and HR's office that morning.

"Hey guys," Ian greeted, albeit a bt awkwardly as he looked between the two of you. Anthony offered a wave from behind the desk as well, it felt as is your parents were sitting you down for a talk, your cheeks painted pink as you looked at Spencer to only find support as he shrugged and leaned in saying, "Seems like we are the ones in trouble for once, what are we going to do superstar?"

And all you can do his shove him away playfully, refusing to look at Ian and Anthony as soon as papers came onto the table. "So... before we get started. You both have been doing amazing work, both together and a part but this is not a promotional meeting," Ian began before Anthony took over, they seemed to have rehearsed this...

"We are, as well as HR, who deemed that it might be easier to talk to us that you two are potentially seeing each other, and there is nothing wrong with that! We just need to know if you need to swap departments," Anthony says looking at you. You rapidly shake your head, laughing away the sweat that is building on your palms, rubbing them on your pant legs now refusing to look at Spencer, nervous that the crush you had been harbouring for some time now was being forced into the light.

Spencer also appeared to be refusing to look in your direction as well, stuck in a starring contest with Ian as the room laid in wait before Spencer spoke up, "We are not, formally, seeing one another, though I do enjoy spending time with them outside of work, as I hope they do too?'

"Yes, of course I do. I don't see you as my boss when we sit and eat out like that Spence," you mention to only received a raised brow that has your eyes widening at your word choice... should've just said outside of work, stupid, stupid, stupid.

Your cheeks have never burned so hard, your nails digging into your pant leg only for a hand to rest on top of them, easing you to relax. And by trailing your eye up to a tattooed arm that you would kill to colour in, you stop dead in your tracks at the hint of a smile on Spencers lips before you both are dismissed without signing a singular paper (or at least yet, you hope).

"Only at dinner, huh?" Spencer presses as soon as the door closes but you keep on walking in front of him as he jogs in front of you, causing you to pause in your steps. The cubicles are now all left empty as everyone has left for lunch, you two are the only ones in this way to large of a room, yet it does not seem large enough for the conversation you are about to unpack.

"... what do you want me to say, Spencer?" you press back, dodging the question successfully for a round as Spencer takes a step back, hands raising slightly from his sides. "I'm just curious where else I would be your boss outside of work if dinners are the only thing that counts..."

"Spencer!" you whisper shout, mind already going into the nooks and crannies you did your best to hide. You looked around but had not yet felt uncomfortable by the converssation, only the unbearable heat starting to crawl up your skin as his harm drapes itself over his forehead. His buttoned shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his signature leather boots creak as he shifts his weight. He seems as bothered as you are right now... as he cannot stand still....

"Oh... I see now," Spencer begins, his low tone has you moving closer to grasp onto his next words, your heart races, your brain a bit fuzzy but you don't feel nervousness or the least bit scared. In fact, you feel freer than ever in this moment, unloading what you desperately tried to hide for so long. "...where else do you hear my voice telling you what to do outside of work?" Spencer continues, keeping his tone even as you meet eyes catching a flickering of surface level genuine curiosity mixed with something, deeper, almost hidden...

You gasp, Spencer tilts his head, putting that little sound to memory as he waits for you to take the next step closer and you invite yourself to. You can feel the heat coming from his body, you both stand so close, you chests brushing up against one another, your breath hitching as he fixes his hair while staring at you. "Spencer..." your voice worries yet comes off as a whine, "What?" Spencer asks softly, still allowing you control that has you really questioning of going back inside that office and signing those damn papers.

"We can't do this right now, here in the office, please," you manage to get out behind your brain imagining every scenario where you press him up against a white wall and not kiss him all over to you both are breathless. "But outside?" Spencer asks once more, "Outside of dinner?" Spencer presses further as you only nod once, "yeah, outside," you confirm before taking a step back as he does the same, swallowing harshly and playing with his hair once more.

"Okay then," Spencer confirms.

"Okay then," you copy and for the remaining day in the office. You are sitting awkwardly in chairs, fingers aching to put your digital signature to the e-document as you keep sneaking glances at one another. It does not help when his phone buzzes in your lap that has you startling upright during the end of a shoot (thankfully).

The car ride back was even more tense, you both car-pooled often, living in the same building but watching him out of the corner of your eye as you changed the stick-shift, his arm, showing off his inner arm tattoos came to close to your hand, just teasing its way to your leg, you quickly parked, feeling that you were squirming in your chair, utterly restless.

─────── · ·

You both barely managed to get into the apartment and lock the door before your hands were on one another, breaths equally catching and being saved. Spencer groaned against your touch as you fell weak at the knees and fell back onto the couch where he met you and watching his cage you in, leaning in closer and closer, the documents lingered on your mind that had you presses your hands to his chest.

Spencer immediately stood up, "You doing alright, darling? Did I do something wrong?" your heart raced even more. "We, I- need to sign those papers right now before we continue..." you point between the two of you, intently looking up at his pink lips, "...this," you breathe out as Spencer sits down on the coffee table, feeling around for his phone as you both scramble to put your e-signatures on while also claiming sick leave... for you both would not be showing up tomorrow morning either once feeling his lips and the caress of his skin against your own.

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: 😮‍💨 whew... umm... No Part 2's on this one! (sorry)

─ · · SPENCER AGNEW TAGLIST: @lisiliely @missflufffanfics @little-stitious-studios @thejourneyneverendsx @sibsteria @lizzylynch1 @babble2 @delaneyburghardt

[riddlerosehearts]

ever since vil's luxe couture groovy was first revealed i have not been able to stop thinking about how much i love him and the way his relationship with gender is written and treated by the narrative. the way that he's a gnc man who refuses to be seen without makeup on, who uses an extremely feminine personal pronoun in japanese ("atashi") and it isn't treated like an unusual thing or a joke. the way he admires the fairest queen, wants to be beautiful like she was and has such an immense amount of pride and confidence in his physical beauty. and then literally not one person in the whole story calls vil's masculinity into question except for epel, who gets told by vil that his views on gender roles and of men doing "feminine" things are backwards and archaic, and ends up having a whole arc where he learns that he was wrong and comes to see his own naturally cute and feminine appearance as a strength!

and then the fact that the narrative doesn't just treat vil normally as a gnc man but also actively celebrates him by having him be such a massive, world-famous celebrity who's so respected and loved?? he's a movie star, he's a model with a record number of runway appearances, he's an influencer who has 5 million magicam followers, if he advertises a product it flies off the shelves. in his dorm uniform vignette an international fashion magazine--which is specifically known for being the first to feature vil on its cover--is coming to interview the pomefiore students for an article on their pursuit of beauty, and the interviewer tells vil that he looks like the fairest queen reborn! and that's how he wants to be seen and is an entirely positive thing!! and with vil being so famous throughout twisted wonderland there will be kids and teens, most certainly including gnc and trans kids, who will look up to him and hear him publicly say things like how there's no such thing as something being just "for girls" or "for boys" and that men shouldn't be ashamed of doing feminine dance moves or wearing certain kinds of clothing. kids who will feel empowered because the vil schoenheit said they could be both beautiful and strong.

idk, it's just, in a lot of other stories i'd expect vil to struggle more because of the way he presents himself and to be treated in a more comedic way because of it. but instead he's a very important and well-developed character who's incredibly successful and confident, who isn't the slightest bit a joke or comic relief character and in fact is one of the most responsible and mature in the whole cast, whose struggles are mostly unrelated to his gender presentation but who gets to defend his right to be happy just the way he is when someone does look down on him for it, and who at least in my opinion gets some of the prettiest cards in the whole game. he is such a cool and unique character and i love him so much and find this aspect of how he's written to be so empowering and refreshing.

[madlori]

"Tommy's good people. He's good for you."

One of the things that tipped me over into thinking that the writers possibly intended Tommy to be a long-term or even permanent relationship for Buck was the scene he shares with Bobby in "Ashes, Ashes."

Bobby is making secret farewells to the 118 as he contemplates quitting his job (and, it might be inferred, quitting his life). He gives Eddie a prayer book. He gives Ravi job encouragement. He gives Hen a pep talk about her family-building, he shares a moment with Ravi, one with Chim, he hands over the cooking reins to Buck. "My work here is done," he says.

And then, to cap off the montage, he shares a one on one moment with Buck, his honorary son, in which he tells Buck that he likes Tommy (who, let's not forget, he knew before he knew Buck), and that he thinks their relationship is good. That's like the Good Housekeeping seal of approval for the relationship. It's Buck hearing from his closest father figure, the man he looks up to, admires, and loves, that he approves of Buck's choice of partner.

Bobby is not just blessing this pairing for Buck - he's doing it for the audience as well. Bobby is the Voice of Benevolent Authority of this show, and to hear him say that Buck and Tommy are good together? It made me think they were really going all the way with this, or at least that's the intention now, and when that scene was written.

This interpretation is, of course, belitted and dismissed by fans who hate the pairing. The grossest response to it I've seen boils down to "well, we shouldn't believe the words of a man who's actively suicidal."

Um...what?

Okay, setting aside the question of whether or not Bobby is actively suicidal (you can argue the point, although he verbally denies being so), let's say he is, just for the sake of argument.

Your position then is that suicidal people, in what they're treating as "final words of wisdom and love" for the people in their lives, are going to then lie to those people? Suicidal people often do lie to their loved ones, but what they lie about is their own mental health. They don't lie when they're saying last goodbyes, or giving final gifts.

But nothing's for certain, so let's say that he is lying to Buck. Did Bobby lie to the other people he had "last conversations" with? Did he lie to Hen about her adoption hopes? Was he lying to Eddie when he gave him the prayer book? Or to Buck about his cooking? Or, for that matter, was he lying to Buck earlier in that same conversation about how far he's come? Clearly not. So now your position becomes that "Bobby didn't lie to anyone else, or to Buck, but then decided to lie to him about this one specific thing that's pretty important, for no reason."

Yeah, I don't think so.

But let's take it a step further. Let's say that you believe, for reasons that defy all logic, that Bobby chose to lie to Buck about approving of his relationship, which would have been an extremely easy lie to avoid (if he actually didn't approve he could have just not brought it up, which he intentionally did).

Great. You believe that. You have that right.

Is that what the writers intended for that scene? Because if you're in the "predicting what's going to happen with BuckTommy" game, then that's what matters. Not what you think, or like, or believe - but what do the writers intend?

So let's examine the scenarios.

In scenario A, the writers say to each other, "Okay, let's have Bobby tell Buck he approves of him and Tommy. But he doesn't really mean that. He's lying about it, even though he's been very sincere in this entire sequence of scenes, because he's suicidal and that somehow makes him a liar just for this one thing, and to want to make Buck feel good about his relationship even though Bobby hates it and hates Tommy. Oh, and the audience will absolutely be able to tell that this is our intention and they won't believe Bobby at all and will definitely know that this relationship is doomed."

In Scenario B, the writers say to each other, "Let's have Bobby tell Buck how far he's come, they can share a moment about their time together, and then Bobby will tell Buck that he likes Tommy and their relationship. The audience will hear this and know that Bobby approves of them, and feel good about the relationship too."

If Scenario A sounds a little convoluted and bananas to you, well...you and me both.

We're not meant to read anything into Bobby's words other than their literal meaning. He's sharing a moment with a man he cares about, telling him things that he wants him to hear. One of those things is that he's happy about Buck's current relationship, and likes the man he's seeing.

Or, you know, bucktommy bones.

<surejan.gif>

[syn0vial]

man, i continue to be blown away by the thought put into astarion's romance, even in seemingly throwaway scenes.

i just did zethino's test of love with him at the circus of the last days and there's such a stark difference between what wins you approval with him and what wins approval with the other companions.

for those who haven't played this bit, zethino's test of love involves a dryad, zethino, testing how well you know your romantic interest by asking you personal questions about their inner lives—their hopes, their fears, their likes, and dislikes. for most of your companions, this is very straightforward: when you answer a question about them correctly, you win approval points with them. when you say something untrue or insulting, you lose approval points , bc they realize that you're trolling or that you don't know them as well as they'd hoped.

unless you're romancing astarion. in which case, you have to do almost the complete opposite to win his approval.

the other characters want you to prove you know them by answering correctly. astarion wants you to prove you know him by lying—or, at least, refusing to pick the most accurate answer.

case in point: astarion does not like it if you tell the truth about his hopes and fears. like, really doesn't like it. answering honestly about his greatest fear, in particular (his fear of being enslaved again), causes you to lose a whole 4 approval points, twice as much as you lose with the other companions for outright insulting them. you can lose another one before that for answering honestly that his greatest desire is freedom. in both cases, he'll acknowledge that you're right—and then express dismay that you'd disclose that kind of information to a stranger. hell, you can figure out from the very first question that he's not comfortable taking this test with you at all; when the dryad asks what makes astarion happy, you lose approval if you say he's happy to take this test with you now.

so if astarion doesn't want you to pick the most accurate answers for him and honestly doesn't really seem to want to take this test with you at all, which answers can you pick to win approval with him?

well, whichever ones are funniest, of course! you don't win points with him for picking the deepest, truest answers, but the silly, flippant ones that make him laugh. what's astarion's greatest desire? well, me, of course! what's his greatest fear? breaking a nail, obviously. he's delighted by your refusal to take the test seriously and actually approves more of funny, light-hearted answers than badass, flattering ones.

i just think the whole sequence is such a fun and interesting exploration of his character and your relationship with him, all in a silly little side-activity where it would've been easy to just give all the characters the same win-conditions. little details like this are really the game's brightest moments, imo!

[guppybibi]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 | How does the TF141 love? (as food!)

John Price loves like a plate of carbonara 𓐐

It's one of the most beloved Italian pasta dishes out there, just like how he loves you the most! It's a simple dish yet it's hard to perfect, but you learn not to make the same mistakes afterwards. That's what's so nice about it, it isn't perfect. It never is, but even that is something to be cherished. Some of the choices made are questionable to say the least but he doesn't question them any further, he was one of your choices after all. (i have no idea how this connects to carbonara but do u see my vision, the choices are like ingredients..) Spaghetti is the most common pasta to be used in carbonara, outshining the less frequently used rigatoni & bucatini. And who can blame them? It's a timeless classic, a staple. (Just like you two;3) Spaghetti was notably long as well before shorter lengths gained some popularity! You know what else is long? Your prosperous relationship together! (Let's not talk about the creamy sauce.)

Simon Riley loves like a box of chocolates 🍫

It's assorted too! White, milk, dark, name it all! It's no problem-o! It's a surprise in every bite, or swallow but please chew your food. It's a whole new experience every time, it's thrilling. It could be filled with delectable chocolatey sauce, oozing out once you take the first bite! It's sweetness overload, reminding you of the sweet moments you and him have together. Then, the next chocolate has..nuts! Yum, these are a teensy weensy harder to chew especially if you have the teeth of a grandma..Like how it was just a little bit hard to get Simon to open up, to let you in. But sometimes the chocolates disappoint and have a hollow inside :C

John MacTavish loves like a bucket of popcorn🍿

Corn was domesticated in Mexico, a memorable place for Johnny to say the least. A lot happened there..During the early years, it was popped by hand but as we can see now it's popped by machines. How is that significant? Well, it shows how your relationship evolves. It's being nurtured like a little baby by the two of you after all! It gets more efficient, the both of you doing your own part in smoothing the bumps along the road. It's often eaten at movie theaters and sporting events, and what do those places have in common with this man? One word, fun! (This or he could also be pop rocks to be honest idk)

Kyle Garrick loves like a bowl of strawberries 🍓

A strawberry flower averages 5-7 petals according to a website, if you do the 'he loves me, he loves me not' game–you'll always land on the love one! (He purposely takes out the ones with 6 petals, or he plucks them off individually.) Or if he doesn't have time to do all of that, you guys resort to 'he loves me, he loves me lots' because that's just the wholehearted truth! Though strawberries don't always taste as good as they seem, no? Especially if they're out of season, yuck! Again, there's always some sour ones in the batch, but it's no use crying about it. So, you and him just fix it!

[vismoney]

- LIKE HIM.

Pairing :: Charles Xavier x Female!Reader, mentions of Father!Erik Lehnsherr x Daughter!Reader.

Summary :: After 8 years of asking Charles the same questions about your father, Erik Lehnsherr, you finally asked him the one question that had been plaguing your mind the most.

Warnings :: Brief mention of smut at the end. Some angst, some fluff. Charles is weird for sleeping with a former student that he used to teach one-on-one, no use of y/n (there will never be on my blog), reader is over 18+ (but then again she was his student for the past 8 years), and reader's mutation is not specified.

Note :: I literally didn't know how to end the story as a whole, so I tried my best 😭 Currently obsessing over Like Him by Tyler, The Creator right now, so this story is inspired by that. Set before the events of X-Men Apocalypse, so Erik is very much still in Poland with his wife and daughter. I'm very nervous since I don't know how to write broken familial relationships, but I hope you guys enjoy it!

“I don’t know where he is.”

Charles had repeated that exact sentence to you for the past 8 years of your life at his school everytime you asked if he knew where your father was, but you were 95% certain that everytime he answered your question, he did know where he was located.

At exactly 8 years after being enrolled at the school by your human mother as soon as the Institute reopened after the Vietnam war, you sat right across Charles at his office, as you two celebrated the anniversary of your enrollment over a competitive game of chess and some reminiscing of some nostalgic memories. The warm lights of the lamps and the soft glow of the fireplace gave the environment a warm setting, in contrast to the cloudy darkness of the night sky outside, it had been raining a lot in Westchester after all.

Being the affair daughter of one of the greatest mutants living on this planet automatically granted you the terrified respect of the people around you, one that you abuse endlessly without consequences, especially with the Professor. You did wonder if he only answered your many questions about your father because he knew if he didn’t, you would either figure it out yourself by leaving the school and endangering yourself, or you’d give him the silent treatment, the latter being the most likely.

You could feel his eyes on you as you debated what move would grant you an easy win with the least amount of chess pieces sacrificed. To most people, Professor Charles Xavier was a serious man who would stop at nothing if it meant it protected mutantkind, or the students at his school. Before you graduated, you had certainly held that opinion of him, even though you were one titled as one of his special students, the kids who had the privilege of chatting with him on the daily and received one-on-one lessons with him, like Jean.

As you moved your rook to take his knight, you leaned back onto your seat and met his gaze. You wondered again if you were only one of his special students because you were Magneto’s daughter or if your powers were truly special and powerful enough that he felt the need of having private lessons with him. 

“I thought you’d have more newer questions about him tonight.” He remarked as he took a sip of his whiskey out of his glass, while retaining his intense eye contact with you. “I thought you wouldn’t ask me again where his location was.”

“It doesn’t hurt to try.”

“You know that I would immediately tell you first if I had information on Erik’s whereabouts.”

“Really? I thought Hank would have the privilege of that first.” 

Charles quirked up a small smile at your sarcastic remark. He downed all his whiskey at once and placed his glass back at the table. “The last time I checked, he isn’t related to Erik at all; unless Erik has some more unknown children that I don’t know about.”

You smirked as you considered the thought of your absent father having more unknown kids somewhere. “Well, you know him better than I do, Professor, what do you think?”

Charles chuckled and shook his head as he moved one of his bishops to take your rook. “I bet on it, my dear.” He said smoothly.

The discussion about Magneto was quickly forgotten as the night went on, the quiet and peaceful atmosphere of his office was disrupted by quiet grunts and groans filling up the room as you and Charles entangled yourselves in a passionate exchange. 

The early rays of the sun shone in the room as you drew lazy patterns behind Charles’ back as he  laid asleep. The quickly turned innocent celebration to the intense encounter had quickly worn him up, something that you had teased him about multiple times before. As you watched him sleep, the thought of your father crossed your mind again, sending you down into a spiral of endless unanswered questions. Did he know that you exist? How would he treat you if he found out that you are his daughter? Would you look like him?

For an enemy of the US Government, they sure don’t hold any pictures of him at all. From searching the web, or going to the library, there were many accounts of who Magneto is, not what Magento looks like. Even when you managed to sneak out of your dorm in the past after curfew to look around the mansion for any pictures that the Professor might have of his former best friend, he had nothing. Out of all the questions that you had repeatedly asked Charles about, asking “Do I look like my father?” was the one you dreaded the answer for.

As if on cue, the man laying in front of you slowly stirred awake and met your gaze. “Good morning, darling.” He whispered softly and leaned in to kiss your lips. “How long have you been awake?

“Just a few minutes ago.” 

He hummed and brought your head to rest on his bare chest. “Thinking, again?

“When have I ever stopped thinking?” You chuckled against his chest and sighed in contentment. Comfortable silence filled the room as he caressed your hair with such gentleness, that a newborn baby would be jealous.

“Do I look like him?” You asked suddenly, as if your mouth had a life on its own.

He stopped caressing your hair and tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. “Look like who?”

“My father.”

He paused, his eyes looking over your face; from your eyes, to your nose, to your lips. “..No. You don’t look like him.” He answered honestly but bluntly, not sugarcoating his answer in any way, shape, or form. “You look much more like your mother.”

[opultea]

Abnormal Love Languages

Genshin men with weird ways of expressing their love for you - Gender Neutral Reader (No Pronouns) - SFW - Romantic - Fluff/Crack

ft. Alhaitham, Wanderer, Heizou, Tighnari, Dottore

Alhaitham

The Scribe of the Akademiya, a renowned scholar, and a totally awkward boyfriend

So what does this intelligent, well-known, socially unaware man do when he wants to show you he loves you?

Infodumping

Knows a lot and makes sure you know it too

If he fell in love with you that means he respects your intelligence and curiosity enough to find interest in your company

So whenever he's on the couch with a new book on Theoretical Quantum Mechanics, he will be reciting the facts to you as if he's doing an oral presentation

Alhatiham keeps one of those big rolly whiteboards in his house (usually used to lecture Kaveh) and you know that when he pulls it out then it is officially date night

He pours you both a glass of wine for a nice candlelit dinner, but then you ask him about his new book and suddenly it's a romantic candlelit lecture

Lucky you find his intelligence attractive ;)))

If you ever need gift ideas for him just get a pack of multicoloured whiteboard markers, he always needs new ones

Even though you might end up regretting enabling his little habit

Wanderer

Traumatised Tsundere (TM)

Has never wanted anything more than to be loved the way he observed in humans, but has always believed he could never be loved in any way. It has only been proven to him that it isn't possible

So he protects himself from rejection by teasing and swatting you away, almost trying to make you hate him so he can at least expect what reactions to get from you

He views it as safe, he knows how humans are when they are angry and hateful, he's experienced it firsthand, so he knows what will come of it

Even though he's secretly saddened by feeling like he has to hurt you

So when you respond to him bonking your head with laughter and a smile brighter than he's seen on anyone in his direct presence before, it startles him

When he pushes your face away with his hand and you retaliate by latching onto his arm he freezes (Wanderer.exe has stopped working)

Calls you stupid and insults your survival instincts

"Honestly, if a complete stranger were to push you away like this, would you still clutch their arm like a lost puppy? How absurd, you obviously couldn't survive without me protecting you, since you evidently can't tell good intentions from bad ones,"

Then you pout and tell him that of course you don't do this with other people, you do it because it's him!

He stops working again

Shoves you to the ground to avoid you seeing how red his face is

Heizou

Riddles and puzzles/tries to quiz you by making you help him solve a case

Brings you to crime scenes even though you are not a detective and definitely aren't allowed to be there just so he can test your skills

"So, what can you gather from this crime scene? This case isn't particularly difficult, so I have no doubt you'll be chasing down the perp in no time,"

Honestly your whole relationship is like an escape room

You want to get into your house but forgot your key? Well knock in morse code and maybe Heizou will let you in

You want to have a nice lunch date with your boyfriend? Well you best be prepared for an intense game of shogi while you eat

You want Heizou to pass you a pen? Well first you must answer these questions three!

But seriously, he makes it fun for you and makes sure to let you know that it’s his way of telling you how much he respects you and he values your input and intelligence

Tighnari

As an Amurta scholar and a forest watcher who has seen way too many cases of mushroom-based food poisoning, Tighnari has learnt to be prepared to dish out medical treatment

So if you cough even once, or sneeze in his presence, Tighnari will begin an impromptu check-up to ensure you're still feeling your best

You try telling him you're fine, people sneeze all the time without being sick, but he just scolds you even more for thinking you could get away without him making sure you're alright

"Don't be so proud, you idiot. What am I going to do with you if you go and get sick?"

Tighnari would hate if you fell ill under his careful watch, but if you do get sick or injure yourself, prepare for a two hour lecture and a bowl of fresh creamy mushroom stew to help you get back into tiptop shape

He's usually incredibly busy with his forest watcher duties, but will somehow almost never leave your side if he's tending to you

When you aren't sick, he makes sure you're eating well, going so far as to prepare your meals or make a nutrition table based on the vitamins he thinks you need more of

Always reminds you to drink water and take any medication you need, your health is his top priority

Dottore

Psychopath (Endearing)

Takes x-rays of you just to admire your lovely bone structure and hangs them up around your shared bedroom as if they're regular date pictures

He loves to have you sit in his lap as he caresses your body and coos at your flesh, whispering sweet nothings in his suavest voice about your organs, and telling you what a strong heart you must have because he can feel it through your shirt

Unwinding with Dottore almost always goes this way, with you getting a shower of what you're pretty sure are compliments about your internal systems and physical attributes

He once shocked you with a mini electric buzzer just to see your central nervous system go off. You were naturally quite annoyed about it but he just shrugged it off, claiming that he just loved to see your body at work, although he never did it again

His doctor brain never turns off, so be prepared to have his fingers in your mouth as he goes on about what wonderful teeth you have

It certainly makes you feel... special

You should feel special, he definitely doesn't do this with anyone else

Dottore is so enchanted by your being that he grows human organs in his lab that are exactly the size and shape of yours, saying it's so you can see for yourself just how beautiful you are

[starlightsreigns]

hold up | a lemonade story

summary ⇢ mellie's hanging on by a thread. how much longer can she hang on when one question coils deep in her? is roman... cheating on her? word count ⇢ 1.4k tags ⇢ minors, do not interact. implied cheating | two ; denial “What a wicked way to treat the girl that loves you”

i don’t wanna lose my pride, but imma fuck me up a bitch.

“Melody, you’re going to drive yourself insane,” My friend Alyssa sighs. “Don’t you trust him?” 

That’s a great question. However, I’m past the point of giving a damn.  I’m literally driving myself to insanity with all of this and I’m not sure how to bring it up. How do you confront the love of your life about something like this without him immediately going on the defense?

“I don’t trust him, that’s the problem, and I don’t know how to get back to that point anymore.” 

Alyssa is my moral compass, she tries to keep me levelheaded when I feel myself slipping. She’s my best friend, but she’s a big fan of Roman and I’s relationship — Alyssa refuses to believe that he’s this person, that he can be a cheater when he’s been so caring. She sees the best in him. 

“Mellie, what has he done to make you feel this way?”

My eyes meet hers, “Don’t make me feel crazy, Aly, I’m already losin’ it here.”

“I’m not sayin’ that, I promise, I’m just tryna understand how you go to this point.” Alyssa sits up. “Just help me understand and I promise we can fuck his shit up tonight.” She offers a smile. 

While she’s the more levelheaded one of us, the thing I love the most about her is her willingness to support any and every decision I make — even if it’s the craziest shit she’s ever heard.

That’ll be helpful later. 

Somethin’ don’t feel right because it ain’t right.. Comin’ up after midnight

The house is the coldest it’s ever been in a long time. I’m pretty sure the only source of heat is coming from the anger seeping out of my pores when I hear his keys in the lock as I sit on the couch. A book sits in my lap untouched as he comes in through the door. 

“Hey, Mellie,” Roman throws my way lazily. He comes over to kiss my cheek and I can’t help but smell the perfume that radiates off his body. Chanel. At least the bitch has taste. “You up late.” 

My brain wants to cuss him out, but thankfully restraint still exists when I finally reply. “I’d say the same for you, baby, where you been at?”  

Roman glances in my direction while heading to the kitchen, “I went to the PC then had dinner with the twins.” 

“Oh, the twins are in town?” My eyes train on his back. 

There’s no way they can be in town. During a call with Trinity earlier in the day, she told me that her husband and his brother were doing house shows during the week, so, it’s impossible for them to be at dinner. Yet, he seems to think I’m the biggest idiot on planet earth. 

“Yeah, we went to that steakhouse on 85th.” Roman shuts the fridge and turns to look at me. “Then we got drinks at Tini’s and watched the game.” 

Of course, he has an answer for everything. A tinge of rage strikes me in my chest while watching how calm he is. 

“What game did you watch?” 

That stops him for a moment. 

But I continue, “I watched a couple on split screen.” 

Roman runs his hand over his beard then takes a long swig of beer. 

“Cowboys versus the Texans was good.” I bait with a small smile. 

“Yeah, that’s the one, we ain’t seen the results though.” 

Well, of course, he didn’t, maybe because those two teams didn’t have a game tonight. 

To not lose my cool, I let the conversation go. I can see him watching me from the corner of my eyes as I pretend to read my book. There’s nothing else I can say. I’ve caught him in more lies than I can count — and there’s a feeling in my gut that tells me he knows. 

Can’t you see there’s no other man above you?

Most people would judge me and I don’t blame them. Even with my suspicion, I can’t deny the love and affection I have. So, here I am under him. I can’t help it. 

“Look at me, baby,” Roman’s rough voice sharpens my attention. “you look so beautiful.” He runs his hand down my cheek. 

His eyes on me, for the first in a while, feels like how it used to be. It makes me forget all the pain that I’ve felt for so long. This is what I want back. 

My hand grips his wrist, pulling him down onto the bed, maneuvering so I’m on top. 

The gems on my acrylic nails catch some of the light from the moon. My hands are pressed against his chest, holding me steady, keeping the rhythm of our skin slapping together. I throw my head back with a moan, feeling the way he raises his hips to reach deeper into me. 

“Do you know how much I love you?” I breathe out, leaning down to kiss his neck. “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.” 

It was the truest thing I’ve ever said. It is the truest thing I’ll ever say. 

How did it come down to this?  scrolling through your call list

His phone is empty. She’s not on here, but I know she exists. How can I keep living in the paranoia where I know the ghost exists but there’s no proof of it? I toss his phone back onto his side of the bed with a huff just as he walks out of the bathroom. 

“what’s wrong?” He takes a look at my exasperated expression.

“You know how much I love you, right?” My voice is harsher than I wanted, but it catches his attention. “And we made our vows to be loyal to one another, i’m keeping my end.” 

Roman knits his eyebrows together, “I love you, too, Mellie.” He sits at the edge of the bed. “I’ll always be here.” 

The reassurance I was hoping to feel never comes. Instead, I’m slowly feeling rage. But, I don’t respond but nod. I can’t look jealous or crazy, that’ll only drive him away or make him sneakier. If anything, I need him to slip up. That’s the only way I can make sense of this — Lord, give me a sign. 

What’s worse? Lookin’ jealous or crazy?... I’d rather be crazy. 

Sleep was the last thing on my mind. Instead, my eyes fixated on the TV screen that flickered in the darkness. Roman was sound asleep beside me and my nerves had finally calmed enough for me to wonder if I was going insane. 

I’ve found no tangible proof. Maybe, just maybe, I’m convincing myself of something that isn’t true –possibly self-sabotaging and self-destructing. If I don’t stop now, all my hair will fall out from the stress. Three months of thinking these thoughts are slowly killing me. Not that he’s noticed, but I’ve lost 25 pounds in my mission to find out the nonexistent truth. 

My eyes are slowly closing when his screen catches my attention. It’s three in the morning, who could possibly be texting him? I’ve just come to an agreement with myself and now I’m plunged back into the uncertainty. I should just turn over and fall asleep, but I just need to look at the message and I’ll be over it. 

J: are you really not coming over tonight, baby? i miss you. mellie sees you more than enough. just come over and be back before she wakes up.

My eyes scan the message over and over again. I’m not sure what else I’m looking for, but I’m hoping that at some point the message would read something different — something that doesn’t confirm all my suspicions. I cover my mouth when the tears start to fall, not wanting to wake him up and find me in this position. My chest feels heavy and my feet are a ton of bricks when I make it out of bed. 

Out in the hallway, I slide down the wall with my hands still firmly covering my mouth to swallow the sobs. This isn’t what I wanted nor was it what I needed. My brain feels scrambled with incoherent thoughts. What do I do now? Should I leave? Should I take a baseball bat to his head? Yet, the only thing I’m sure of right now is that I might throw up.

It’s difficult for me to get back up to my feet. My body shakes uncontrollably in the darkness and my breathing is shallow until I’m taking deep breaths. I turn to glance into the room, feeling my skin heat up. This feeling isn’t sadness, it isn’t hurt, or disappointment. I’m past denial – what I’m feeling is scorn and hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. 

“But still inside me coiled deep was the need to know. Are you cheating? Are you cheating on me?”

please excuse the errors, classes are kicking my ass. hope you’ve enjoyed it 🫶🏽 very excited to post “don’t hurt yourself” x