#red and blue...arch nemesis.........

[hotcinnamonsunset]

“He holds himself with innately impeccable posture, as if he emerged fully formed and upright out of some beautiful Buckingham Palace posy garden one day.” -- Red, White & Royal Blue, chapter 1

[kenyummy]

✰ 02. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 02. a green fire—love is weird!

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: spideytorch... parksborn... I miss u... this is more introducing the ones who already like spidey but guys kon soon prolly bc i alr wrote a hella romantic drabble.. heh..

prev. ✰ masterlist ✰ next.

At least life—as you knew it—hadn't changed entirely. Sure you aren't going to Midtown anymore, but this Gotham Public didn't seem too much different. Instead of New Yorkians, it was all Jersans... yay...

Your supposed brothers and sisters went to the more prestigious school on the other side of Gotham—but all you wondered is why, really. It must've been a pain to go all the way across town to pick up one singular child.

(You realised why you had a bus pass slipped in your wallet soon enough).

You just can't believe your "dad" decided to send you to school the day after your recovery. That was really crazy. Even Alfred seemed a bit iffy with his words—but regardless, didn't attempt to fight back.

You don't blame him. Bruce seemed pretty unreasonable. Anyways—your main theory is that he didn't want people asking invasive questions... if any at all. Or that he couldn't be bothered to just leave you at home. Or he had some top secret Batman stuff to do that couldn't involve the likes of you.

Regardless—you don't care. You're still just as annoyed about either way.

The necklace resting atop your collarbones feels tighter than ever. This was scary. Real scary. You hadn't a clue what this school was like—the people, your friends (if you had any at all), your teachers, the school system or anything.

Even your Friendly Neighbourhood Spidey had their anxiety-inducing moments.

But you were met with a pleasant—very pleasant, meaning it wasn't teenager B.O—surprise when you walk into the building

"[name]!" A comfortingly familiar voice rings out in your ears and you gasp in shock.

That voice felt like laying on a bed of clouds—stretching out and feeling fuzziness after all that dark leather and depression.

A red head of hair comes barreling at you and wraps around your torso, tight. You return it with just as much glee. "MJ! You're... here! You're actually here...!!"

Mary "MJ" Jane—your best friend—is right here with you, her fiery red hair and pretty blue eyes staring like nothing changed. The only thing different is the bat symbol on her graphic shirt—and the abundance of books pressed against her side.

You squish your cheek against hers'—you feel her smile against you. "Um—of course I'm here. We go to this school, you know."

"Yeah, but [name] skips so much she's probably forgotten."

You whip your head around, smile widening. "Harry...!"

Harry Osborn—your other best friend—gives you a bright grin and holds his hand up in a wave. You wonder if your unofficial arch-nemesis Green Goblin—also his father—exists in this world. Judging from the glamour of the watch on his wrist—you guess he's still at least partially filthy rich.

Your eyes brighten and you could almost cry after the dumpster fire that was your family dinner.

MJ pouts beside you, sending your friend a glare, "Harry, you thief."

"Not my fault I'm the better looking one," he raises his arms in mock-defense—giving MJ just as hard as a look. A second later—the "tension" evaporates and they're both giggling uncontrollably. Harry elbows your arm. "What's up with your outfit? Who's that?"

Gesturing to the very inconspicuous spidey symbol on your top. You blink. You'd almost forgotten Spidey didn't exist in this world. Not yet, at least.

"Haven't you heard? The newest—and coolest—hero." You nudge him back and smirk. "I forget you nepo babies are never caught up."

"Um, hello? You're like—the ultimate nepo baby, [name]." MJ sends you a knowing brow-raise. "Bruce Wayne is literally your dad. That's the most nepo baby thing I've ever heard."

You'd almost forgotten this Bruce Wayne guy was now your (though neglectful) father. MJ and Harry probably didn't know this, so you laugh awkwardly and smile.

"... Oh, yeah. Right. Silly me."

The bell chimes (you must be the luckiest spider ever with this timing), ringing loudly in every student's ear as the freshmen start rushing to class. You've just realised you don't know where your first period class is.

...Or any of your classes, for that matter. You'd have to bring your schedule tomorrow—but for today, you'd rely on your best friends.

Holding your arm out toward Harry, you give him a cheeky smile, "Walk me to class?"

He takes your arm in his without a moment's hesitation, giving you a smile just as sneaky, "Anytime."

MJ looks between the two of you as you both walk to first period, chatting and laughing—the equations practically going off over her head as she grins.

First period couldn't have been any worse. Your English teacher was rambling on about anything and everything concerning Shakespeare's final play—confusing even the rest of the class, who weren't transported from another dimension.

It wasn't helping that Flash couldn't seem to stop throwing scrunched up paper balls at the back of your head. Giving him dirty looks didn't seem to halt him—he would only laugh harder with his friends.

It seemed he truly did hate your guts in every universe. The consistency was almost comforting.

"That guy...!" Harry's jaw is clenched hard, and he sends him the nastiest glare you've ever seen. "He still won't get over himself, it pisses me off...! So salty over you rejecting him and he's still insisting it was a joke."

Ah. So that's why. In your original universe, he just hated you because you beat his ass in third grade for making fun of your handwriting.

"Who cares—" You try to be the bigger person—but you have to clench your fists and bite your tongue when another paper ball flies to the target of the back of your head. "... I'm better than this, so I don't."

Harry pauses—but smiles after a moment. "... What changed?"

Huh? Has he figured you out already?

You furrow your brows, but you smile when you tilt your head. "What do you mean? I'm... the same as always, you know."

"No, you're acting different. But not in a bad way. Before, you'd take any chance you get to talk badly about Thompson." He chuckles. "Have you matured overnight, or something?"

This is the second time somebody's pointed this out.

Was this universes' you really that spiteful? Your diary entries were anything but kind, sure—but you could never have imagined you to be so... different.

Then again, your dearest uncle was nowhere to be seen either—and without him, perhaps you would've ended up just like this you. You might've never become the Spidey you are today.

... Though, you weren't Spidey in this universe, were you?

"I guess so. Nothing... nothing good comes out of being bitter. Sometimes it's best to learn from it and move on." You smile. Harry gives you an indescribable—yet fond—look.

The bell chimes once more after that dreary period—and you're out that door faster than Harry can catch you.

Two periods later, you're finally able to eat.

Lunch, a little less fortunately, is the same as always. You'd like to think it's because all the rich people (and consequently, all the funding) go to the school on the other side of Gotham, but it probably is just because all school lunches are equally awful.

After taking your tray of mashed greens (you're unable to decipher exactly what greens they're made of) and a dry, veggieless burger—you sit down at a lunch table with MJ. Harry's still waiting in line for an extra carton of milk.

She smiles at you, friendly, "Hey, you. How was English?"

"Hey to you, too. It was terrible." You sigh, slumping down on the table with your head in your hands. "Flash wouldn't leave me alone. I'm so sick of his shit."

"Nothing new, then," She snorts, clearly amused by your stress. "He'll leave you alone, eventually. The rejection's still fresh... even after three months, apparently. I'm just glad you're being the bigger person in all this."

"Yeah? Harry told me the opposite." You lift your head only to give her a tired look. "Actually... he seemed more pissed off about him than I was. ... Don't know why."

Harry, in your world, didn't seem to care too much about Flash outside of mild annoyance whenever he pushed you around. He seemed more amused by it than anything—the ass.

MJ lifts a brow at your confused tone, waiting for something—for you to continue, probably. Continue with what, you had no idea. After a few beats of silence, she almost chokes on her dry patty.

"Are you serious, [name]?"

You blink. "What?"

"Do you seriously not know why he gets so pissed about Flash?" She says, incredulous. You look to the side, then back at her with a shrug. She splutters, "Wh—what...? Are you kidding? You're that...."

She shakes her head, cutting herself off. "[name]... Harry's in love with you. He always has been."

MJ begins to talk about how it's always been obvious, and how everyone's known except you for years, but you barely hear it over your own thoughts.

You've gone as red as your suit, eyes wide and jaw dropped like you'd just heard your mother died (oops). Your heart nearly drops into your stomach. You don't feel sick, but your stomach is twisting and turning like a tidal wave.

Harry's... what?

You never even considered it. Not in your universe—nor this one, you presume. You've always seen him as just your really rich best friend slash possible sugar papa (satirically)—but now, you can't help but wonder.

"You okay? You're really red."

A hand places itself on your forehead. When your vision unblurs and you see those disgustingly bright, blue, beautiful—

You almost yelp, scrambling away from Harry's touch. "Harry!" You say it like you're surprised he's here—like you're surprised he's able to be around you like this.

(Though—if what MJ said was true—he must really be a great actor).

Of course you're not unfamiliar with love—that Felix Hardy really knew how to get under your red webbed suit. And you don't even want to get started on Cindell Moon—

But this was different. This was really different. Felix didn't know you. He knew Spidey, and liked Spidey. The chase. The masks. Never you. Cindell was only attracted to your pheromones. He was never in love, and to be honest—it wasn't exactly a heartbreak.

You've known Harry longer than you hadn't. You've been friends with this nepo baby for a majority of your life. He's been there beside you even when you'd seen his dad end up in a psychiatric hospital on the news—crying in your arms.

For him to be in love with you—it's hitting you all at once, and you're so overwhelmed you can hardly breathe properly.

It means everything you know is different—everything changes.

Your cheeks burn brighter than Sentry's glowing fists. He seems shocked—almost hurt—that you look so scared of him. MJ, on the other hand, is very, very amused.

"[name]'s feeling pretty under the weather right now," She coos. You could only muster a weak glare toward her. Despite that—you choose to take her lie and run with it.

"Um... yeah... I think..." You gulp. Your eyes are lingering anywhere but on him. "I think I need to go home... I'm sorry."

Harry blinks. His eyes meet with MJ, who shrugs. Then he looks to you, again—almost sad. Like a puppy, more than anything. "I could get my assistant to drive you home, if you want—"

Your stomach twists at that look. You shake your head. "No... I'm fine. I—I'll get um..." You rack your brain trying to remember your butlers name—"Alfred to drive me... Thanks anyway."

You stand up as shakily as you feel—leaving your full tray of food on the table. You glance over your shoulder as you begin to walk away, bag clutched to your side. "I'll see you tomorrow, MJ." You pause. "Harry."

MJ waves, "Feel better soon. I'll be waiting for your response," and you groan.

"Take care of yourself, [name]." Harry says, with a sad smile. You swallow hard.

This was freeing. Really freeing. You'd almost forgotten how much you love being Spidey.

You swing from building to building, flipping and barrelling as you pleased. Flying through with the Gotham wind hitting your face and you slicing through the skies—you can pretend everything is fine and you're back home.

You can pretend Harry isn't in love with you. You can pretend you hadn't replaced a neglected child who's father and other siblings couldn't give less of a damn about for some reason—and you could pretend that they aren't super vigilantes themselves.

Sure, you're glad to see your friends existed in this universe—but learning your whole friendship with Harry was everything it could never have been—you're a little less than frazzled.

But, it also begged the question. Did that mean that other heroes—your other friends—also existed here? Were they also...?

You press your lips firmly together when you land on a building and stare down at the honking cars beneath you. No. You couldn't get your hopes up. Not this time.

You had to do your own research. And if that meant sneaking around on your family's computer—so be it.

Back home, it was like the flying world you had once known, grew into golden bars of a cage.

Walking through the halls of the manor gives you more strange looks than you'd like to admit. You really have to wonder how long this—well, you, has put up with this.

Tim is walking through the hall with his hands tucked into his cape and still dressed in his Red Robin costume. When you pass by him without so much as a look, he doubles back and speaks, "[name]? Wh—what are you doing here? Isn't it..."

He checks his phone. "It's still school hours?"

You glance back. "I felt sick, so I decided to come home. Still a bit frazzled from... you know. I'm just finishing up my homework."

Tim pauses. "Bruce is going to be mad. You know how he hates it when you and Damian skip."

You want to bring up how (considering he's your age) he must go to school, too, and likely skips more often than you do (again, thinking back to those diary entries), but you don't think it'll lead to anything pleasant. So you hold your tongue. "I think I'll live. Bye."

You leave with a small shrug and Tim standing behind you, brows furrowed deep.

Minutes later—you're stuck in your room, scrolling through as many articles as you can find. It's all about this Justice League, and occasionally, Batman and his Robin. Or Nightwing. Or Red Hood. Or Superboy. Or—

Okay. There's a lot of superheroes. Almost as many as the Avengers.

Maybe this wasn't the right approach—you think, after reading the 500th article about the two Superboys. You scroll more. Then—something catches your eye. A bright flame (on your screen, technically—but still just as bright) encapsulates your retina faster than you can react.

Your eyes widen.

BREAKING: New hero team? Four super-powered heroes saving civilians in fantastic ways.

No way.

You jump up from your bed and clutch your necklace. This was practically calling for you. You run out the door—blasting past Tim—with a newfound spark of hope.

Your heart practically lights up and you can't possibly get out of this house fast enough. Tim calls out your name as you zoom past—asking what the hell you're doing. He doesn't get a reply.

Tim doesn't think he's ever seen that kind of expression on your face, ever.

You're moving so fast, he's not sure if he can catch up.

Your suit forms over your pyjamas as soon as you duck into the dark of an alley, shooting a web and slinging up into the sky. If your predictions were right...

Then he should be here right now. They should be here. The last article you found was posted less than twenty hours ago.

You look around, perched on the roof. The sky is dotted with specks of red and orange—like the flames of a phoenix. Ever-burning heart. It's not as bright (yet, all the same, sears your lids) as it was when you ducked out of school—Harry and MJ surely would be home by now... wherever that home in Gotham was.

You're too locked in to try and do detective work on anything else right now.

"Come on... come on, hotshot... you're there, I know it."

You probably look crazy muttering to yourself like this. You feel like you're going crazy. You're sure he'd call you loony before grinning and hitting you with a bad pickup line. You're sure—

Suddenly, your eyes brighten and there's flickering in your refractive lenses.

Your entire body tenses with a pause—your spidey-sense going off a thousand beats a minute.

"Johnny!" Your eyes dart towards a bright speck rapidly moving. Far away. Flying, most likely. But it's him. You know it. You don't waste a second in starting to swing.

You call out his name as you rush toward his quickly departing figure. He's fast—but you're faster. You always have been, no matter how much he'd deny it.

Your heart races as fast as it can possibly go. Your heart—it's burning, alighting with hot, molten passion as you get closer, and closer, and closer—

"Johnny!"

You crash into the human matchstick and wrap your arms around him—squeezing. The warmth pools through your nanotech suit like you're hugging the sun itself (though, you aren't too sure whether the warmth tickling the inside of your ribcage is truly coming from him).

You sure are thankful you made your suit heat resistant (with Johnny in mind).

He yelps, high-pitched—losing his flight for a moment and tumbling downwards. You web and swing the two of you upwards onto a roof with ease, holding him princess style in your arms. When you let him down to stand on his own two feet, he stares at you with wide, shocked eyes.

His flames evaporate into thin air when he realises it's you, and you're laughing so joyously you could cry.

His hand reaches up, cautiously. Like you'll shatter if he isn't careful. "[name]...? Spidey, is it...?" Making sure it really, truly is you.

You nod, slowly, and the nanotech of your mask dissipates around your face. He lets out a breath he probably didn't know he was holding and engulfs you into a hug, holding you steady in his arms as low flames begin to tickle your face.

"[name]...!! [name]!!" He holds you so tightly you could be squeezed to death—but you're not complaining. Not like you usually would. Not like this. Not now. "You're... you're here? How...? How are you...?"

You pull away—though, his arms refuse to linger away from your upper arm, "What about you, idiot?! I was scared half to death when you, Sue, Ben and Reed just... disappeared one day! I was scared you...!"

You can't bring yourself to finish, so you just hit his chest, hard. He hisses and clutches the area, claiming it's going to bruise—yet, he does not stop smiling.

He slinks an arm around your shoulder (being sure your hair doesn't catch onto his flaming limb), smiling as charmingly as you remember, "Oh come on, Spidey—we both know you were just worried about me."

Your eyes squint up with your smile. He's just like you remember. Whether this was your Johnny or not... it didn't change the fact that you'd never felt closer to home.

"Try again in the next dimension, hot stuff."

And he simply grins.

Your legs dangle off the edge of the rooftop, a burger (courtesy of Johnny letting you know where are the good joints were) wrapped up nicely in your hand. Your mask only leaves your mouth exposed now as you take a bite.

You chew with starry eyes. "This tastes like...!"

"Like Stanley's, right?" His bright eyes squint upward into a boyish grin. "It's crazy how similar these worlds are."

You sigh contentedly at the familiarity, resting your head onto his shoulder. His suit is warm on your cheek. "So, Reed's tinkering really did transport you all to this world? And that's how Doc sent me tumbling here?"

He nods. "Yep. Sucks, huh? I just didn't expect you—the other you—to get caught up in this, too. What're you gonna do now? You know... with their treatment towards you."

He's clearly talking about how you overexplained their dismissal toward the you in this world. Since you practically replaced them—you're the one with the short end of the stick, while the other you is with your loving Aunt May.

"'Dunno. I'm not gonna tell them I've been transported universes—they'd probably just send me to a mental hospital. I just have to deal with it until Reed gets us out of here." You pull your knees to your chest and take another bite of your burger.

Johnny glances downwards toward where you chew—but you don't notice it.

"'Course. You're practically part of the family. You know, honorarily—till you decide to tie the knot." He winks and you can only laugh at his stupidity.

"Uhuh. Pretty comforting." You snicker. You throw the balled-up wrapper behind you, and sigh, content. "I just hope they don't find out I'm the new spider-hero. That's probably not gonna end well."

Johnny pauses, thinking. "You could always move in with us. Reed made us all fake ID's and everything—we have a pretty sweet apartment."

You shake your head, pulling your mask down over your lips. "No. It'd be even weirder if I disappeared without warning... Assuming they even noticed at all. Trust me, I'd love to—but I can't let them find out. No telling what they'd do."

"You got a point." He sighs, disappointed—as if admitting so was hard for him. "Well, regardless... You can come over whenever you like. My room's always free for you, babe."

You tilt your head to the side. "... I bet you say that to all the people you like, don't you?"

"Nah." He shakes his head, sounding oddly serious for this moment. "Not to anyone since I've had eyes on my special spider."

... Huh?

A beat of silence passes, and he seems to almost regret his words as he laughs, humourlessly. "Hah! Well—try not to piss off the big bad bat more than you already have, babe. I'll catch you later. You know my number."

Before you can even say goodbye—he flies away, leaving a streak of light in his wake.

Johnny...

You decide not to ponder what he meant by his special spider, for the sake of your own wellbeing more than anything. You swing back—into the night of Gotham and back home, where you can fade into the dark without an eye on you.

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again, if you asked to be on the taglist but aren't there, your account couldn't be tagged for whatever reason. im not too sure how tumblr works, but if you manage to fix it, ask me again!!!

(let me know if this is a me problem bcs im doing this all on my phone at 1am lol 😭)

[yungistiny]

GAMEBOY ═ chapter three

[ J. Yunho ]

chapter three: better than he imagined

╚═════════

summary: yunho has no idea that his neighbor across the hall, the same one he’s had a crush on, was his arch nemesis behind a headset

warning: dom yunho, bratty/sub reader, slight orgothumophilia, masturbation, unprotected sex, spanking, choking, degradation, overstimulation, oral, sexting, more will be added

pairing: gamer yunho x gamer afab reader

genre: smut, romance, angst, drama

word count: 1.7k

chapter one

chapter two

chapter four

masterlist

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

“Fuck.”

Yunho probably should of been keeping up with the time. The hot shower he had been taking had turned cold, his hand wrapped around himself, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted as the water continued to pour on him.

He had been stroking himself for so long, always getting to that premise of orgasm only to not be able to. It was pissing him off. Yunho had jumped in the shower to clean up and rid himself of the problem Juniper had given him after the heated messages before y/n got there, only he couldn’t come.

He didn’t understand what the hell was wrong with him. “Come on.” He was practically begging himself. He tried everything. Tried picturing the faceless image of Juniper on her knees. Tried imagining y/n splayed on his bed for him. Nothing. Nothing was working. Yunho was hard as hell and he just couldn’t for the life of him get himself off.

He finally got out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, hair dripping a little but Yunho was too frustrated to care. He went to walk towards his room but there was an incessant knocking at the front door. “Shit!”

It had to be y/n. Wooyoung wouldn’t knock, he’d use his key but Yunho’s roommate was at work. San wouldn’t knock either. He would just find a way in. Yunho once caught him chilling in the living room, eating what leftover takeout Yunho and Wooyoung had.

He couldn’t just keep standing there. He couldn’t keep making her wait. Yunho speed walked to the front door, one hand gripping his towel to make sure it stayed on. “Hey…” y/n trailed off, eyes instantly going to his bare and still damp chest. Her eyes locked in, trailing down his abdomen, taking in the prominent abs, tracing them with her gaze.

Then her gaze went lower. The light baby blue towel wrapped around his waist did little to hide the obvious bulge.

I’m too big? You wouldn’t even be able to fit me in that smartass mouth of yours

Fuck. And it was big, that was clearly obvious. Y/N could feel her face flush, gaze averting back up to meet Yunho’s. His ears were red, cheeks flushed too. “Pizza.” She decided to pretend like she wasn’t just blatantly checking him out.

“Oh!” Yunho blinked, shaking his head. He’d seen the way y/n had stared at him a little too long but there was no way she was checking him out. If she liked him like that she would have made a move a long time ago, right? He grabbed the two pizza boxes out of her hands, bringing them into the open kitchen and sitting them on the counter.

Y/N followed him inside, a bag hanging from each arm, a small six pack of soju in each. “I’m gonna go get dressed.” Yunho helped her put the soju in the fridge before darting off to his bedroom. Fuck! He still had a slight boner and there was nothing he could try and do about it now.

He grabbed the tightest pair of underwear he had and the baggiest sweatpants he had, putting them on along with a plain black shirt. All Yunho could hope for is by watching Yellowjackets, a show about a group of survivors on borderline cannibalism, would make his hard on finally disappear.

And it did. They were already through the first six pack of soju, first pizza eaten and halfway through the fifth episode of the show. “She really killed her only friend!” Y/N was giggling, not that the scene was funny but she was tipsy and the scene took her by surprise.

“I told you Misty was crazy.” Yunho laughed getting up from the couch to go get another drink. He knew he was drunk, stumbling a little when he stood too fast. He grabbed a canned soda from the fridge, popping it open with one hand.

Y/N watched him in her slightly drunken gaze, she hadn’t drank as much as he had already but she was far from sober. And fuck did Yunho look tempting. His hair had air dried, wavy now and looked so soft. His neck and face was flushed red from the alcohol.

She suddenly thought about how after their little messages last night, not that Yunho was aware yet that it was her, y/n had made herself come with her favorite vibrator and Yunho’s name on her tongue. She wanted him, needed him so bad it was starting to drive her crazy.

Yunho was having the same problem. He was so damn sexually frustrated thanks to Juniper, he was on the verge of throwing all caution to the wind and just make a move. He’s wanted y/n for so long, the alcohol in his system killing any nerves or rational thinking.

And they would both blame their next actions on the alcohol but it was anything but. Y/N just looked at him too long, looked too good in the shorts she had on and Yunho loved her legs, especially her thighs.

Y/N kissed him first, his perfect cupids bow lips just too enticing. It was all hunger and lust, tongues fighting each other as Yunho pinned her down beneath him on the couch, moans escaping them both as he moved, picking her up, y/n legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to his room.

Yunho struggled to open his door, almost losing his balance. He was too afraid to break the kiss, scared he was just drunk and passed out, imagining things. He needed this to be real.

He did break the kiss though, or well, y/n did, trailing her mouth up his throat, tongue darting across his adam’s apple. “Fuck…” she found his sweet spot and Yunho was a moaning mess once he finally got his bedroom door open.

He practically fell to his knees, dragging her shorts down her legs, helping her undress. His tongue was diving into her already wet cunt the second y/n clothes were tossed behind him carelessly in his room.

He wasted no time making her come. Sucking her clit into his mouth, two of his long fingers thrusting into her, y/n walls clenching around them as she pulled at his hair.

Yunho added a third finger, curling them and thrusting again, his fingertips brushing against that spongey little spot deep inside her that had y/n crying out his name as her orgasm hit her. Coming all over him, his tongue trying to desperately lick her back clean.

He half expected it to end then, Yunho didn’t exactly have any condoms at the moment and he was certainly too big to fit Wooyoung’s. But then y/n had to kiss him, tasting herself on his tongue and then whimper against his lips how she was on the pill.

Which is how Yunho ended up with her on top of him, his hands gripping her waist as y/n own splayed against the wall at the headboard of the bed, cunt so full of Yunho’s dick she was almost in tears. “Fuck… you’re so big…. so fucking full…”

Yunho needed to be deeper, he wanted to be buried so far inside her it was halfway driving him crazy. So he flipped her over, pinning her hands above her head, dick still buried inside her but so much deeper now.

“God…” he rested his forehead against her own, both damp with sweat. He’d wanted her like this for so long he was terrified it was a fever dream. She felt so much better than he imagined.

Yunho gripped her waist, sitting up and moving her, bringing her to meet him with every thrust. Y/N was a mess under him, her smaller hands gripping tightly at his wrists as his own grip he had on her waist tightened enough to probably leave a couple little bruises but she didn’t care, he was fucking her too good to even want to care.

Yunho was mesmerized, watching the entire length of his dick repeatedly disappear into her tight soaking walls, clenching him as y/n second orgasm was ready to pull her under, make her drown in it. He wanted to ruin her, make a complete mess of her, but even through his drunken state, Yunho assumed y/n wasn’t like that.

Y/N came again with his name leaving her like a mantra. Yunho leaned down burying his face into the crook of her neck as he chased after his own orgasm that hit him so hard he was whimpering, shuddering at finally being able to reach that release he couldn’t give himself earlier.

She would probably regret it, Yunho didn’t care. He’d go back to pretending to just be her friend. He’d act like it never happened, no matter how hard that was going to be.

He’d do whatever she wanted as long as it kept her in his life.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

San arched a brow at y/n as she tried sneaking into their apartment early in the morning. He gripped his cup of coffee, snorting in amusement when she bumped into the small table beside the coat closet. “Long night?”

Y/N bit her bottom lip, hangover hitting her hard, she was never a good drinker, much like San, a bit of a lightweight. “I slept with him.” She had woken up tangled up with Yunho in his bed, everything that happened between them rushing back and she snuck out, freaking out, because what if he regretted it?

“What?” San sat his coffee down on the coffee table, looking at his best friend like he was sure he hadn’t heard her right. “I slept with him!” Y/N repeated, exclaimed, as she walked towards her bedroom, San following behind her.

“You mean you slept together?” San surely was hearing her wrong. “Yea, I fucked him.” Y/N collapsed on her bed, staring up at her ceiling. What the hell would she say to Yunho when she saw him? She had a stream with him tonight. “That’s not just it….. I’ve kind of been, well, Juniper, has been sexting with him.”

San stood with his hands on his hips. “So you’ve been sexting him as Juniper and you fucked him as yourself?” He couldn’t believe the situation. “Ok Hanna Montana, you know he’s going to be pissed when he finds out the truth, right.”

It was a fact San was sure of. He’s known Yunho for a long time and there was no way he was going to be ok with y/n lying to him all this time, especially after sleeping with him.

Y/N closed her eyes, sighing, feeling a little guilty.

“I know.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

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[superblysubpar]

<- part one | part three -> | series masterlist

chapter summary: The week of the bet begins with a bang.

the song: Bodybag by chloe moriondo

also for your listening pleasure: Hungry Like the Wolf by Duran Duran / The Girl is Mine by Michael Jackson & Paul McCartney / I Can't Go For That by Daryl Hall & John Oates

4,024 words | please see masterlist for gen warnings / underage alcohol consumption & mentions / slut shaming from idiot/asshole teens | my blog is 18+

A house on Cornwallis Street - the past

The beat from the drums in the Duran Duran song playing throbbed, the speakers physically pulsing as you passed them. Your heels stuck to the kitchen tiles as you entered the room that had been your sanctuary for the past hour. Once the beer had been moved to the living room and the chip bowls thoroughly destroyed, the sticky vodka bottles and punch that looked like something died in it weren’t visited as frequently as they had been at the start of the night. 

So it was there, forearms pressed to the edge of the sink as you lifted a foot and rolled your ankle, then the next, with a soft and maybe too sensual sigh of relief, that Steve Harrington finally caught you alone. 

“New shoes?”

You spun, forgetting the teeny tiny sticks beneath your heels didn’t really care for quick movements or aiding in the process of balancing. 

He caught your forearm, fingers curled around your wrist as you settled. Like he was reminded he wasn’t supposed to like you, he dropped it, fingers running through the darkening hair he was keeping longer now instead as you lied. 

“No.”

Steve squinted at you, taking a sip out of red cup, mumbling into the plastic with a snort, “Sure.”

Your arms crossed, now acutely aware of the fact that the entire outfit you’d been in all night was much more revealing than anything you’d worn around him before. Eyes focused on the denim cut off a little too high on your thighs and the sliver of skin between the top of the mini skirt and your borrowed pink top as you accused, “What are you doing here?”

Steve took a step closer, white Adidas kicking a forgotten red solo cup as he did. 

“Funny,” he clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, “Was just about to ask you the same thing.”

As you glanced up, you couldn’t help but notice the dark blue of his polo was starting to get tight around his shoulders and biceps.

Couldn’t help but look at his eyes that were unwavering in their gaze on you. Which all only made your skin hot, made you need to look away and pretend you were looking for something on the counter littered in trash. 

“Where else would I be, Harrington?” 

Steve was right behind you as he hummed, “Anywhere else. Literally, anywhere but a house party.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You spun with the biting accusation, the little black heels now your arch nemesis as they wobbled beneath unsteady ankles again. Steve caught your waist that time, bodies closer together as you fell back against the counter. 

He didn’t let go, his finger resting just above the denim, right against your skin. 

“It means,” he swallowed, exhaling a shaky breath as he leaned in and explained, voice taking on a tone that seemed like he was quoting something. Or someone. “That I thought you were better than stale beer and shitty conversation with idiots.”

A flash of an argument with your friend Robin in the hallway ghosted across your memory, making your lips part, but only a small noise escaped them. 

The movement and sound had Steve’s eyes glancing down, his adams apple bobbing. It had him squeeze at your hip involuntarily, had you wondering if it was possible for skin to spontaneously catch on fire. 

“I love beer,” you finally managed to sputter out while wondering if he always had those two freckles on his cheek and if he did, why could you suddenly not look away from them as they lifted with his smirk. 

“Yeah?” He offered his cup out to you, “Have at it, honey.”

Maybe it was the challenge in his eyes. Or that word, honey, that made you do it - made you aware of how close you were to the boy you’d always hated and how he wasn’t the one you came with. 

You took the cup and kept eye contact as the rim met your lips, kept it while the bitter liquid washed over your tongue. You kept it still, as you wondered if it was the color of his eyes or the alcohol that had your stomach warm and fizzing with something abnormal. 

“For the record,” you whispered after your fingers swiped at your lips, “I do hate shitty conversation with idiots. I came in here for a drink for my boyfriend.”

Steve blinked, like he hadn’t heard anything you’d said since you took the cup from him and that wonderful pride swelled in your chest with the thought that you’d successfully gotten the ball back to your side of the court. 

You cocked your head and blinked innocent eyes up at him, “Brenden Peterson? Junior? I think you’re on the basketball team with him…or well…” you winced, “You’re on the bench of the team he plays for…”

Steve’s hand dropped from your waist as boisterous calls came from the other room, shouting about spin the bottle. Tina’s voice carried over the music that dulled to something quieter, Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney singing about loving the same girl. Your name called in her shrill squeal, asking if you were playing. 

“Absolutely!” You yelled, still too close to Steve, “I love spin the bottle!”

You were sure it was the beer on your tongue that made the words slip over it, then out of cherry glossed lips so easily. 

Not the way Steve Harrington was looking at you. That had nothing to do with it. 

Nothing at all. 

Steve finally made a noise, scoffing as you shimmied out from his spot keeping you against the counter, wandering closer to the rowdy boys cheering at your agreeability to the suggested game. 

His jaw pulsed as you sipped out of the solo cup and made eye contact with him over the rim. He hated that something deep in his biology or wherever it came from had him suddenly panicked he’d pop a boner when your tongue darted out to catch amber liquid and foam from a pouted bottom lip. 

He hated that he followed you into that room. 

That he sat across from you in that circle. 

He hated what happened next. 

You were looking around the room, eyebrows furrowed together as a girl named Carol patted the carpet next to her and told you to sit. Brendan wasn’t in the room and as you looked around the circle, you caught Steve looking right at you with a challenge in his eyes not unsimilar to the one you just had in the kitchen. 

So you leaned forward and yelled, “Me first!” 

The circle ooh’ed, Steve looked anywhere but your chest as you crawled to the center and your fingers spun the green bottle. 

You were settled on your knees, blinking down at the slowing bottle and silently screaming for it to keep spinning, keep spinning, keep…

Carol yelled out an “Oh La La!” and boys snickered as the green bottle finally stopped right between Steve Harrington and Tommy H. 

“I-I just spin again, right?” You went to do so, panicking as Tina laughed from somewhere on your right. 

“Nope! Gotta kiss both boys!” 

“But I-“

“Oh, come on!” Carol moaned, snickering, “It’s just a kiss! Or two!”

You hesitated, hating the way Tommy grinned at you and Steve continued to stare at the carpet. 

“Wait,” someone in the circle laughed, “You’ve kissed a guy before, right?”

Another person whispered, “Dude, that’s Brendan’s latest conquest. The one who…in the back of his…”

Your vision got a little blurry, the room suddenly too warm.

“Come on, I don’t bite,” Tommy shrugged, lifting his eyebrows up and smirking. “Unless you want me to.”

Steve’s fingers clenched into fists on his knees, he finally looked up at you and whispered, “You don’t have to-“

His words were cut off as you grabbed Tommy’s collar and pulled him towards you. Lips colliding in a kiss that made the circle cheer, wet lips and tongue and you pulled away with a gasp. Grabbing at Steve who looked shocked but his hand landed on your waist as your noses bumped. 

You took a deep breath, your eyelids started to flutter closed when you heard, “What do we have here?”

Brendan stood to the side of the circle, a tilted head of mussed blond hair. He laughed as he gestured to the circle, “Wow, you really will just do whatever guys ask you to, huh?”

Looking around the circle, everyone snickered into drinks or looked at you then Brendan, waiting for more of the show. 

“I-“

“You what?” Brendan interrupted, eliciting more laughs and your eyes started to burn, cheeks too hot when Brendan nodded at Steve and scoffed,

“Enjoy my sloppy seconds.”

A tear rolled down your cheek and when Tommy started to laugh, “Oh no, she’s cry-“

Steve elbowed him and whispered your name.

You shoved at him and stood, ready to bolt, when you saw the girl standing just behind Brendan with the purple mark blossoming on her neck.

Your jaw clenched as you took a step, then another, Brendan too focused on laughing at you with his buddies to care until he was doused in beer. 

The music stopped, the circle fell silent, and Brendan blinked through foam, swiping at his eyes as he growled, “What the fu-“

“Enjoy continuing to fail freshman level biology, getting kicked off the basketball team, and going absolutely fucking nowhere in your life, Brendan.”

You threw the crumpled red solo cup at his face as you tried to leave the room with some ounce of grace on the stupid heels you couldn’t wait to never see again. 

The slam of the front door behind you rattled the framed photos inside as much as the sob in your lungs did to your breath. Your fingers pressed to your lips as you blinked back the hot tears that wanted to pour out of you. 

“Hey,” a quiet voice from your left called, “You okay?”

A boy was leaning on his elbows in the grass, curly brown hair that was a little too long catching in the breeze, a lit cigarette dangling between his lips. He looked familiar, like you’d seen him in the back of the band room or somewhere in the first few months at Hawkins High. 

He looked you over and shook his head with a grimace, “Yeah, no, that’s not an okay face.”

“I’m fi-fine,” you managed to hiccup out. 

“Well, fine,” he groaned like a person much older than the boy he was as he stood, “I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you.”

A laugh left you, despite the tears still trailing down your cheeks. You swiped at them and told him your actual name. 

Eddie nodded and twisted the toe of a black boot into the cigarette now on the ground. “Still nice to meet you, but far less cool and interesting of a name than ‘Fine’ if you ask me.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Eddie,” you waved a little, hugged your arms around yourself and started down the driveway, only stopping to kick off your black heels and leave them in the grass. As you began again, now barefoot, his voice carried on the early autumn breeze. 

“Hey, Fine!” 

He grinned when you turned, and he held up his hands in surrender as he spoke. “Tell me to fuck off, but whatever just happened inside is not worth your time or energy, but you know what is?”

You sighed, and waved your hand towards him, “I suppose you’re gonna tell me yourself?”

He beamed and held a hand to his chest covered in some sort of skull and snake design, “Well, that probably remains to be seen. I do have a whole presentation on the value of having a Munson for a friend, but, nah, I was gonna say cherry pie.”

That laugh left you again, and Eddie only smiled wider at the sound, a dimple poking out on his cheek. 

You looked at him, then the house behind him, then down at the heels in the grass. 

“Can we stop and get me new shoes?”

“Can we…?” Eddie looked at you incredulously, “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t think of bringing you to get cherry pie without sneakers on your feet.”

He waved to a van a few cars down the street, bowing, “Your chariot awaits, ma’lady.”

By the time Steve got outside, bruised and bloody knuckles hung limply at his sides as he watched a van round the corner of his street, then disappear. 

A house on Cornwallis Street - the present

His fingers press the top of the alarm clock at precisely five fifty-nine am on Monday morning, the red glow of clock telling him he’s up too early yet again. 

He doesn’t drive Robin to school anymore, he doesn’t have to be at work till nine thirty, but he’s kind of used to his routine now.

And it’s not like he was sleeping anyways. 

His old Hawkins High swim team t-shirt slips over his head as he sighs, hands rubbing and slapping at his cheeks as he thinks about how he hasn’t really slept all weekend. He’s lacing his sneakers up as he thinks about how he definitely didn’t sleep on Friday. 

Not after he let you inside, and you smiled at him like that. After he yelled about how this wasn’t a fair bet and how Eddie upped the stakes to three hundred dollars then, the ‘arch nemesis’ clause as he put it. 

He holds his ankle in the driveway, pulling his leg up and stretching it, then the other, glaring at the red sign on the front lawn in the hazy morning sun beginning to rise. He starts down the sidewalk, but sees the house on the corner and decides that after an entire weekend of revisiting memory lane, he doesn’t need to physically go down the literal lane of his past mistakes and regrets. 

His feet thump on the ground in time with the Duran Duran song playing in his walkman. 

Family Video - the present

Daryl Hall and John Oates voices abruptly stop when you slam the stop button on your walkman due to the sight in front of you. 

Your feet straddle the baby blue bike, docs pressed to the pavement as you glare at the maroon car idling in the parking lot. 

He has his head leaned back against the head rest, eyes closed. His arms are crossed over the green vest while Tears for Fears plays out the open window quietly. 

Pulling your headphones down around your neck, you slam your hand on the hood of his car and Steve jumps in his seat, blinking profusely and swiping at his eyes before he glares at you.

“What are you doing here?” You accuse, fingers gripping your handlebars.

Steve rolls his eyes then his window up. He yanks his keys from the ignition, the sudden loss of the vehicles noises making the cicadas and frogs in the pond across the street louder. 

He gets out and squints at you as he slams the door. 

“Cute helmet.”

You quickly snap it off, cheeks warming as you shove your bike lock into a wheel and glare at him from your new crouched position. 

“Again,” you snap the lock closed, “Why are you here?”

Steve sighs, leaning against the storefront’s window. “We open at ten, do we not?”

“We,” you laughed, sticking your key into the front door with the shake of your head, “Don’t do anything. You work in the afternoon all week. With Robin. I’m alone in the mornings until we-“

“Find a replacement for Tracy. Yeah,” Steve bites the inside of his cheek, pointing his finger like he’s just remembered something, “Keith said something about that. But, well, I volunteered for extra shifts, to help out while we’re short staffed for summer.”

You pull the key from the lock and narrow your eyes. “You what?”

Steve smiles at you, freckles on his cheek lifting as he shows off perfect teeth. “What can I say, I’m just a nice guy.”

You actually yell out a, “Ha!” with your head thrown back as you open the front door, not caring to hold it open for him. 

“You…you…” you stomp towards the back room as you search for the right words, “Slimy, sneaky…”

“Sexy?” Steve provides, following you.

“No.” You spin with the word, not expecting him to be so close behind you.

He stops just as abruptly as you, face mere centimeters from yours, both of you having the cover of the slow to buzz on overhead lights to steal breaths and find your composure once more. 

Steve sighs, walking past you towards the wall where time cards are kept. “Listen, if it’s actually that terrible to work with me, I can call Keith again. But I really would appreciate the extra shifts.”

You hang your helmet on a hook and push your own card into the machine, skepticism evident in your voice as you ask, “You need the extra shifts?”

Steve faces your profile, and you feel his gaze lingering on your cheek as he whispers, “Well, yeah. I’m about to be out three hundred dollars in a week.”

Turning to face him, you finally take in his appearance. The sincere look in his eyes is almost overshadowed by the circles under them, the frown of his pink lips almost forgotten due to the stubble surrounding them that’s not normally there. 

Your silence seems to mean something to him though, because the frown becomes a smirk, and his head tilts as he asks, “Or am I not?”

“Not what?” 

His smirk becomes a full smile, “Not gonna be out three hundred bucks. See something you like, babe?”

And just like that, it’s gone. 

Your eyes roll as your shoulder bumps his on the way to the coffee pot.

“In your dreams, Harrington.”

He watches you press start on the coffee, sitting on top of the break rooms table with crossed arms over a plain blue t-shirt. 

“Bet you’d like that.”

You fiddle with the cream you’ve pulled out of the fridge, the clipboard of tasks Keith left for the week. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, keeping your tone bored, willing the minutes of this day to go by faster. 

Steve’s voice is quieter, and closer to you as he says, “If I dreamt about you.”

Spinning at his words, cream canister in one hand, coffee mug in the other almost colliding with his chest. You blink at him as he continues, “Bet you’d like it even more if I told you what we did in those dreams.”

Your back hits the counter, not realizing Steve took a step closer as he spoke and there was nowhere for you to avoid how good he smelled or how what he was saying was making you sure there was something wrong with your stomach. Nowhere to avoid the eyes that look at you unashamed, and you could swear dare to seem hopeful. 

Until he’s grinning, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

And doesn’t he?

Steve taps the counter behind you twice with two of his fingers and hums. 

“On second thought, maybe you should take my afternoon shifts. Looks like I’m not the one who’s gonna be needing the extra cash after all.”

He leaves, whistling a song you can’t quite place, but it itches at your skin, demanding to be felt like the burn of his words left on your cheeks. 

You shake your head, and fix your coffee. This is not happening. Despite Robin and Eddie vouching for the new and improved Harrington, you will never, ever, believe it. 

You will never let him win. 

Especially after the first morning shift with him. 

When the store opens at ten, there are three cars in the lot already, families stocking up on weekly rentals. Kids are in and out, shouting about candy and horror movie marathons. Steve and you are both behind the counter for most of the shift dealing with returns and large purchases, arms bumping too many times to count. It’s when his hands land on your hips as you threaten to topple over with the stack of tapes you were desperate to get out on the shelves in the lull, that you both notice you’re finally alone again for the first time in four hours. 

Steve’s breath hits your neck, making you even warmer with a murmured, “You’re welcome,” when you gasp out a thanks. He drops his hands quickly and squints up at the ceiling, then out the front doors. 

The sky has turned darker, gray and gloomy, and you wouldn’t be surprised if a typical summer thunderstorm was rolling in. 

Steve leans against the counter, the back of his hand swiping through his hair as the other fiddles with the TV remote. He turns off The Breakfast Club, switching to a cable station. You keep your back to him as he’s surely staring at the news anchor’s chest that most men in Hawkins want to suffocate in, until he mutters, “Knew it.”

“That Lucy Lebrock’s boobs were fake?” You mumble, stacking tapes.

Steve snorts out a laugh and then he gasps, standing up straighter, “Holy shit. Are they really?”

“Honestly, Harrington, look at them.” You spin and gesture to the TV and whisper, “Oh, fuck.”

“I know,” Steve nods, biting the inside of his lip as he glances out the store windows again. 

Lucy points to a map showing a massive storm inching closer to Hawkins, red banner announcing a tornado watch for surrounding areas. 

Steve and you continue to watch, leaning against the counter next to each other in silence as Lucy tells everyone about tornado safety. 

“I cannot believe they’re not real. You’re right. I really am an idiot.” Steve’s whisper finally breaks the silence. 

You snort, covering your mouth with your hand, hiding your laugh but your eyes sparkle when he looks at you. 

And then a loud clap of thunder booms overhead, like the universe itself is warning you of what’s happening, of the danger just around the corner. 

Then the power goes out. 

It all happens quickly after that, and yet, each moment lingers, like it’s making sure you’re committing it all to memory. 

There’s a moment where you grab Steve’s arm and he grabs your hip. 

One where you both jump a part, shouting sorry too loud.

There’s another, that threatens to steal your breath when Steve holds his vest over your head as you squint through rain streaming down your face as you lock the front door, the ‘Sorry we’re closed’ sign swinging behind the glass erratically as you inhale cedar and mint.

Then one, that grabs something inside of your chest and squeezes, when you start towards your bike and Steve slips his fingers between yours and tugs, shouting over the rain, “Don’t be stupid!”

There’s several filled with the splashes of your feet in puddles as he tugs you towards the BMW’s passenger side, unlocking it and racing around the hood himself. 

One that’s silent, save for rain pelting the metal roof, and both of your heavy breaths fogging up the glass. 

Then the sirens start going off, Steve’s fingers shake as he starts the car, swiping water from his eyes with the other. 

“My…my apartment. It’s on the other side of…”

Steve shakes his head, backing out carefully as the wipers work faster than what seems possible, and yet they do nothing to aid in his ability to see out the windshield. 

“Honey, you’re crazy if you think I’m taking you anywhere other than my house that has a full basement and an emergency storm kit Robin made me make with her last summer.”

Honey. 

The word lingers, swooshed away with the sound of the wipers and the Duran Duran song that scratches the itch that lingered all morning spilling out of the car’s speakers. It disappears with the spin of tires on the wet pavement as they take you to Cornwallis Street. 

Tag List - thanks for your endless patience and excitement for this and sorry for the delay in posting today 💛

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[cevansbrat0007]

Sweet Tooth

Summary: Ari gets inventive when he finds himself in the doghouse with you. Be sure to check out the follow-up drabble, Sweet Tooth Deluxe!

Warnings: Smut, Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Arch Nemesis', Dominant Ari, Aprons, Arguments, Oral Sex (fem rec mentioned), Spanking (mentioned), Pussy spanking (mentioned), Pet Names, Cursing, Violent Thoughts, Minors DNI

A/N: Written for @honeygngergemini. Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari leans back in his chair, one long leg coming to rest atop his knee as he levels a hard look at Officer Milton Foster. He scrubs a tired hand over his face, his mind working overtime to process what the young man had just said.

“But that makes zero fucking sense.” He grumbles, groaning when he sees Milton just shake his head.

“Aye, man.” The dark-haired deputy  throws up his hands. “You asked me where I thought you went wrong and I told you.” He turns in his office chair to spare a quick glance at his computer. “Do not shoot the messenger.”

“No one’s being shot, alright? I just don’t get the logic behind any of the shit you just said.”

Couple that with the fact that you’d been icing him out for the past several days for reasons unbeknownst to him – which had left him in a god awful mood. He missed you. Your laugh, your warmth, your smile. 

All of it.

Not to mention that deliciously curvy body that had been keeping him warm at night. He really missed that. More than than anything he needed a fucking kiss.

But you were ignoring him. And Ari had discovered pretty quickly that he didn’t like any of it. Not one bit.

So, he’d turned to what he felt like was his only ally in this god-forsaken town: the newly minted sheriff’s deputy, Milton Foster.

“So you’re really trying to tell me that the reason my woman is pissed at me is because I ate Charline Marshall’s pecan pie at the town potluck, liked it, and asked for seconds.” Ari smooths an annoyed hand over his bearded face. Trying to understand Bell’s Creek’s local politics could really do a number on a person. 

“And don’t forget that she purposely dropped your lady’s bramble berry pie on the ground.” Milton does a quick spin in his chair. “She tried to pretend it was an accident, but most of us know better. Charline Marshall has eyes for you and I think she might be ready to make it known.”

“I’m pretty sure that I couldn’t even pick that woman out of a lineup.”  

Milton simply shrugs before taking another spin in his desk chair. “You’ve got a lot of admirers, Mr. Bounty Hunter. A man like you blows into town…well, you’re downright exotic. Every single red-blooded woman under 75 wants a taste.”

Ari visibly shudders before crossing his legs at the ankle. He didn’t want anyone else. This particularly surly Bounty Hunter wanted you. He only wanted to eat your food. Enjoy your sweets. Fall to his knees and devour the fuck out of your pretty little pussy.

“Hard pass, buddy.” Your lawman sighs. “I didn’t know shit about the pie incident. I mean, how could I when she was barely talking to me or anyone at that party?”

“Not saying it’s your fault, big guy. Logically, what would you have been able to do if she had told you?”

Ari looks up at him, his piercing blue gaze never once leaving the young deputy’s. “I would’ve taken her back to my place and spent the rest of the night making her feel better. I would’ve done everything in my power to take my girl’s mind off that petty shit.”

“Mmm.” Milton murmurs as understanding suddenly dawns. “I really don’t wanna get too deep in your business, but your lady is like a sister to me.” He leans back in his chair so that he can kick his feet up on his desk. “We used to play on the playground together as kids. And full disclosure, she used to beat my ass.” The deputy chuckles as he begins to recount all the way you used to be a tiny force of nature. 

“I…can see that.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Anyway, I think your original plan was a good one.” 

“Meaning?” Ari leans over to take a sip of his now cold coffee. It tasted like shit anyway, even when it was hot. In fact he longed for you, his BIrd, to make him one of your little caffeine-infused concoctions – preferably while wearing nothing but his shirt. 

So he could also take a bite out of that luscious ass while you refreshed his mug. After all, he was a man who prided himself on his ability to multitask. 

“Meaning, you need to find a way to distract her while making your point.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, you’re a smart fuckin’ guy who set his sights on someone who could easily be the most stubborn woman in the whole damned state.” A smirking Milton offers up a salute with his can of Dr. Pepper. “That’s for you to figure out. All I can do at this point is wish you luck.” 

“Thanks.” Ari grunts, wishing that he had a better idea of what to do with you.

Oh, rest assured that he’d figure it out. You were too important to him not to. He just hoped you’d find it in your heart to take it easy on him for his mistake. 

The Next Day

You wake up to the smell of cooking sausage wafting into your room. It makes you smile as you stretch your arms over your head. Your stomach growls in agreement, subtly reminding you that you’d neglected to make dinner last night. 

Oops. You hadn’t meant to forget, it had just happened. Normally you would end your night with speaking to your Beast of a Bounty Hunter, who always made sure you ate. But lately, you have been both mad at him and embarrassed.   

Because at a recent town potluck, Ari had eaten your rival’s pecan pie. Now, you weren’t children, but this had also been after she’d purposely sabotaged your own dessert by accidentally dropping it on the ground. 

Charline pretended that it had been a mistake. But the way you’d witnessed her laugh after the fact. And then she’d fed your man, reveling in every minute. You’d known her pecan pie was dry, but Ari had seemed to enjoy it. So much so that he’d asked for a second piece. 

Which was fine, except it had hurt your feelings. And you hadn’t been sure how to relay exactly relay that fact either. So you’d clamped down. You’d bottled up. 

And as a result, your poor, sweet man was suffering. Which meant you needed to apologize. But you weren’t quite sure how to go about it. As you sit up, you vow to yourself to give him a call today. As soon as you sat down and enjoyed your breakfast.

And then it occurs to you. You weren’t the one cooking. Which meant someone was in your house. 

You spring out of bed and grab your Louisville Slugger that you always kept nearby. Taking a deep breath, you quietly make your way down the stairs, your trusty bat poised to take a swing at whatever moron who’d chosen to take up residence in your kitchen.

Baring your teeth, you crest around the corner on bare feet, ready to make your presence known. 

“You gonna hit me, Bird?” Ari muses as he adds a dash of salt, followed by pepper to whatever it is he’s got cooking in the skillet. Your flippin' skillet. “Is that really how this ends? You take me out while I’m being kind enough to whip us up some breakfast?”

Momentarily flummoxed you find yourself lowering your weapon in favor of taking in the scene before you. This man – your Bounty Hunter – was currently standing in your kitchen clad in nothing but an apron. 

Your apron. And yet somehow it fit him better

“Wh–what are you doing?” You ask him, letting your baseball bat clatter to the floor at your feet. You wouldn’t need it. You were safe with this man, but only to a point. “And how’d you get in?” You hadn’t given him a key yet. 

That was supposed to be a present for later. 

“Eh.” Ari shrugs, flipping a pancake with surprising skill. “Maybe I saw my gift and swiped it after the potluck. Maybe you weren’t listening to me and I couldn’t get a read on you, so I had to be an asshole and make an executive decision.” He turns away from you to drop a finished pancake on a plate, giving you a fantastic view of his perfectly muscled ass.

“You mad?” 

“N-no.” You respond as you feel your thighs clench. God, how you wished that you’d come down here wearing pants. “I was actually planning to reach out to you today. Can I ask what you’re doing?” You shiver as you feel your thighs grow damp, your traitorous pussy working against you. 

You should be mad that your Beast had broken into your house. Instead you were happy to see him with a much deserved apology ready to fall from your lips. 

“Making you breakfast. Chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, and sausage.” He adds another delicious pancake to the stack. “I’m gonna feed you, and then I’m gonna fuck you, and make you rethink ever ignoring me again.” He purrs, the intoxicating rumble coming from somewhere deep in his chest. 

Fuck you were so wet it was almost embarrasing. 

“I’ve earned the rights to that tight little pussy, baby. And when I make a mistake like I did with that goddamned Charline, I want you to tell me.” Ari turns off the range, pulling the food off the heat and onto a plate.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur, both hating and loving the way your nipples pebble beneath the thin fabric of your oversized t-shirts. Actually, it was one of his. A detail he also seemed to notice. “How can I make it up to you?”

Ari studies you for a moment, his handsome face tilting to the side. And then your eyes stray to the sight of his impressive erection. You watch as one of his big hands reaches down to fist his hard cock, pumping it once. Twice. 

“You can start by going back upstairs. I want you naked, on all fours. I want to come up there and feast my eyes on your soaking wet cunt.” His heated gaze bores into your own, making your already drenched core spasm one more. “And you’d better be wet for me, otherwise I’m gonna spank it. And you.” 

“O-okay.” You find yourself taking a step back, your hand clutching at the wall. 

“I’m gonna eat it baby.” Ari growls, his voice filled with a mix of unbridled lust and determination. “I’m gonna make that pussy fucking cry. And you’re gonna fucking take it. You hear me?”

“Yes.” You whisper, resisting the urge to reach down as you stroke your eager fingers over your throbbing clit. “Yes, Sir.”

He takes a menacing step towards you, his body delighting in the way that you shiver. You’d been bad. Which means it was time to pay the price. And what better man to exact that payment than your own handsome, 6”4 Beast? 

“And then I’m gonna fuck you in front of that brand new mirror I bought you. I’m gonna show you who owns that beautiful body and remind you why it’s important to talk to me when you need me.” Another menacing step. “And then I’m gonna feed those delectable curves after I’ve had my fill.”

“And then…” He tilts his head from side to side, cracking his neck. “You’re gonna let me kiss it all better while I make love to you.”

“Y-yes, please.” Right now you were willing to give this man whatever he wanted. Whatever helped you atone for your supposed sins.

“There’s a good girl.” He intones as he unties the apron, leaving him naked and aroused in your simple kitchen. “Now run.”

END

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[thisfeelslike-iykyk]

hiiii i have a request <33 maybe percy x daughter of dionysus reader?

drunk on love ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

percy jackson x daughter of dionysus!reader backtrack: “adventure player”, yao chen inspiration: you!

it wasn’t often that demigods at camp half-blood got to relax. you were usually all busy training and dying. but with all the chaos that had been happening recently, you thought you all deserved a break. besides, with the war brewing, you never knew when the last time you ever saw your friends would be. and it sucked to think about that, but it was reality.

so that’s why you and a few other campers were out here, in the middle of the forest, at night. nobody asked how you got the wine, or why it was even there. let’s just say you called in a couple favors with some hermes kids.

you reminded everyone to keep it down. the harpies usually patrolled the beach area, so the forest was generally safe, but you couldn’t take too many chances. to be completely honest, the party was kind of a ruse to get closer to your boyfriend. the two of you couldn’t be too comfortable with each other during the day, under the watchful eye of your dad, dionysus. you weren’t ashamed of percy, and all the campers--and chiron, you were pretty sure--knew you were together. but you weren’t willing to take a chance on your dad.

percy was looking fine as hell, and it was effortless too. his hair was messed up just a little, his smile practically lighting up the whole forest. he met your gaze from all the way across the clearing and smirked a little. you grinned and sent him a sly wink, raising a plastic cup to your lips and taking a sip of the red wine inside. some stray wine dripped from your lips, which you caught with your thumb and sucked off. not breaking eye contact, you quirked an eyebrow at your boyfriend, a little smirk on your face.

percy shook his head, running his hands through his hair. he made his way over to you, alcohol-free because he was responsible like that. (that was such a lie. you figured he just didn’t like alcohol because of his old stepdad and arch nemesis.)

“you’re killing me over here, [name],” percy said with a grin as he reached you. you grinned as he pushed you up against the nearest tree, hands going to your waist immediately. you wrapped your arms around him to hug him close to you, the near empty cup still clutched in your hands.

percy wasted no time in pressing his lips against yours. he tasted faintly of sea salt--he always did--and blue raspberry jolly ranchers. he was your most favorite flavor. you returned his kiss hungrily as his hand slipped under your shirt, gently rubbing circles on your warm skin.

if it was up to you, you would spend all day kissing your boyfriend. unfortunately, that wasn’t up to you. “perce, my dad could see,” you whispered, unconnecting your lips and forcing yourself to keep a clear mind.

“you’re not worried about him finding out about this whole party in general?” he returned in a low voice, tugging your hair teasingly.

“compared to him seeing you and I together? not really, actually.” dionysus would probably have a good laugh seeing this gathering. “he’d probably be proud of me. about the party.” you downed the rest of your wine in one gulp, savoring the taste. of course, being the daughter of the wine god had its perks, one being you could outdrink anybody.

“he hates me enough anyway,” percy muttered. “I swear, babe, you think we’re being all discreet, but he definitely knows. and I don’t have a problem with that, but he definitely knows. you should see the way he looks at me. I might get murdered in my sleep one of these days.”

“don’t say that,” you protested, rolling your eyes. “you’re too important to kill.”

“hmm,” he hummed dismissively, pressing his lips to yours again. “wanna get out of here?” he mumbled against your mouth.

“you know I do.” you held on to your cup--the dryads would never forgive you if you littered--and took percy’s hand in yours. the music and lights of the makeshift party were quickly left behind as percy led you to his cabin. there was always something eerie and lonely about poseidon’s cabin, but you were not about to bring your boyfriend into your cabin; castor and pollux were busy drinking at the party, but they could come back any time.

come dawn, you'd have to sneak out of cabin three. you couldn't risk being seen in percy's cabin--besides being against camp rules, that would cause such a scandal. but for now, you were okay with being a rulebreaker. and who could blame you? you were simply drunk on love.

I’m sorry this took so long to get out! I’ve been bombarded with schoolwork and am sick on top of that. also guys please don’t drink underage

divider by @saradika-graphics

taglist: @loveinalocket, @raysmayhem-72, @stars-tonight, @toooster

[hyunsvngs]

kinktober !

kink: knifeplay

pairing: kim seungmin x fem!reader

wc: 3k

knifeplay: consensual BDSM edgeplay involving knives, daggers, and swords as a source of stimulation.

It was perfect. You had fake blood all over your room, staining your once blue sheets, but the costume was perfect. 

For Halloween, your friends had decided to host a party at one of the dorms. You and your best friend, Jeongin, had decided it would be the best idea to dress up as Sidney Prescott and Ghostface. Your costume was quite easy - you already had an old denim jacket you could cover in blood, and a basic lilac top to go underneath it. When put together with a simple black pair of jeans, you felt completely ready. Your costumes were going to be the best.

The Instagram pictures would be amazing, too, you decided while walking to the party. You didn’t have a long way to walk, and it was quite amusing listening to the kids screaming for candy outside people’s doors - but all you could hope was that one of the members of 3Racha had actually cleaned the dorm this time, and not left it all on Hyunjin.

Music was already booming when you arrived, reverberating around your sober brain and making you wince. Would you regret coming here?

You realised you really did regret it, when the front door swung open and you were met with fox-like eyes in a… a fucking Pokemon trainer costume. Felix emerged from behind him, sharp yellow ears perched on his head and his cheeks covered in red. 

“Listen,” Jeongin began, gloved hand reaching out to you. You sighed, shutting your eyes. “It was Felix’s idea. Look at him. He’s really convincing, and I’m sorry I didn’t text, but Chan’s put this stupid no phone ban on and-”

“Look!” Felix chirped, and when you finally saw him… well, you understood what Jeongin meant. He was in yellow dungarees, tail wrapped on a string around his waist and little ears bobbing with his glee. When he looked at you, his face fell. “Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry. Did you guys have something planned, or-”

“No, not at all, Lixie,” You murmured, pulling him in for a hug. He really was so cute. No one could resist him. “I’ll find my Ghostface somewhere.”

Felix nuzzled into the hug, wrapping his arms around you, before he was squealing. “Seungmin’s dressed up as Ghostface! Oh, Innie, did you plan this?”

You blinked, turning to Jeongin. Seungmin was your arch nemesis, but only purely on the basis that you both had some heavily unresolved sexual tension.  Jeongin wouldn’t do this to you - or so you thought, because when you looked at his face, he was looking extremely guilty. “I know you have some… issues, but it needs to end now. It’s making things awkward, and, and… you can take pictures together, y’know? Then be friends,” He was mumbling, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. His Pokemon hat obscured most of his face, but you could still see the pout on his lips. Fuck this. You had the two sweetest men in front of you apologising, expecting you to be angry at them, but even you weren’t that mean.

You sighed, finally pushing past the two figures to enter the party. You were immediately attacked by a black plastic streamer dangling from the ceiling, and you swatted it away with a grunt. “It’s fine. Let’s do the pictures, then.”

It had always been the plan - to take pictures all together before the party really got into full swing. You had a feeling you’d been a little late because there were already quite a few people there. Still, you diligently walked into the kitchen behind Felix and Jeongin anyway, where everyone was standing around, conversing.

There he was. Ghostface mask pulled halfway off of his head to reveal dark, menacing features and a black cloak draped over his slender figure. Chunky black boots made an echoing noise as he tapped his foot impatiently on the tile, sipping out of a glass with one gloved hand and the other holding - a knife. It glinted in the light as he spun it around with his fingers, playing way too comfortably with the blade. Oh. Oh, no. Someone was playing a practical joke on you. 

“Is that knife real?” You squeaked, and Seungmin turned to you with a glare. “Like, it’s not a prop…? Why do you have a real knife?”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, then his lips were curling upwards with a smile. “To finally kill you with.”

“Haha, that’s so funny,” You deadpanned, but half of you was considering if he was being genuine about it. It wouldn’t surprise you - he was a sadistic fuck, always had been since you met him. It was why you wanted him so bad. “Let’s take these pictures. I’m already over it.”

Felix fiddled with his camera, flicking off the lens cap and trying to get it in the perfect position on the counter. You scurried in front of Seungmin as he walked over after placing his cup aside. Once Felix had set the timer, he ran in front of the lens and clutched onto Jeongin. Oh, yeah. What was Seungmin supposed to do, given that you were matching?

You had your answer quickly. With one gloved hand, he pulled his mask down and pulled you into him by the waist, and then he was positioning the knife at your exposed collarbone. It nipped teasingly, the blade threatening to draw blood. You looked down in shock, only to see Seungmin’s hand confidently holding the handle - god, was he skilled with this? He hadn’t killed people, hopefully, but… what if he was into something like this?

Wetness pooled in your panties at the thought. It’s a kink straight out of your deepest, darkest desires. The idea of being too scared to move in case the knife bites at your skin, dripping crimson liquid down your body only to be lapped up by the blade again… yeah. It was hot, and for some reason, with your fake-enemy pressed against you, it was even hotter. You didn’t even blink when the flash went off, too focused on trying to keep your breaths even. 

Seungmin dropped his hand once the picture was taken, and then he yanked the mask back again. He was staring at you with a bewildered expression, but he looked somewhat impressed. Pulling you to one side by your arm, he gripped your waist again, trapping you against the wall so he could whisper into your ear. “Did you get turned on when I held that knife to your neck?”

“No, what’s wrong with you-“

“I heard you holding your fucking breath,” Seungmin hissed. “That’s fucking insane, you know? Dressing up as Sidney and then getting all… like that. It’s like you wanted me to do it.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Seungmin’s eyes flitted around your face. “I was actually meant to match with Jeongin, so maybe I wanted him to.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Seungmin scoffed, rolling his eyes. He pinched his temples, and then he sighed. “I know you want to fuck me. God, I want to fuck you too, so bad. I’m sick of playing this stupid push and pull when I could be upstairs fucking you with this knife to your neck right now.”

Your eyes widened. You let out a puff of air, trying to find the words to say, but you only noticed that fuck, Seungmin was awfully close all of a sudden. His breath was heavy on your burning cheeks. When you looked around the room, you could see that no one had noticed the two of you - Felix was too busy still jumping around and Changbin and Jisung had dressed as Peter Pan and Tinkerbell. You wanted to coo at Changbin, his bulging arms so adorable in the little green dress and wings, but you were definitely more engrossed in what Seungmin had to say.

“The party. We can’t leave, you know?” You finally spoke, and Seungmin pulled back. You wanted to cry. He looked around the room, nodding, before he was pulling the mask back onto his face and obscuring his annoyingly perfect features. 

“Half an hour. Jisung’s room, upstairs. Is that alright with you?” His voice was muffled, and you had to crane your head a bit to hear him. You nodded nonetheless, and he gave you a quick wave before disappearing into the crowd of dressed up men. 

You sighed heavily. This was about to be the longest half an hour of your life.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Jisung’s room was chaotic. You had literally no idea why Seungmin had decided on his room out of everyone’s - surely Hyunjin’s would be better, or even Chan’s with the mood lighting? You opened the door anyway, entering the small room and stepping over piles of clothes to lay back on the bed. At least the bedsheets were cleaned. Jisung’s lamp was the only source of light, leaving the room basked in a creepy orange Halloween atmosphere. It definitely fitted the setting.

It had been exactly half an hour. Seungmin was late. Was he ever late? In your whole pseudo-friendship, you were sure he’d never been late, and-

The door burst open and a masked figure emerged. You jolted, sitting upright on your hands and blinking at the man in costume. It briefly crossed your mind that you couldn’t even be sure it was Seungmin, and then he was tearing the mask off, throwing it aside. 

“It’s still me,” He said, tone soft. Was he a mind reader as well as a borderline psychopath? You nodded, wiggling forward on the bed when he sat across from you. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Did you bring the knife?” You responded. Seungmin burst out laughing, and then he was bringing it out from his jean pocket, beneath the cloak. 

“You are very fucked up. Has anyone ever told you that?” He murmured. You stared at his gloved palms as he threw the knife aside, moving on the bed to pin you down against the mattress. You wiggled impatiently, spreading your legs to allow him between them. Your chest heaved, staring up at him with doe eyes as he blinked down at you.

“‘M not fucked up,” You mumbled, pouting. Seungmin chuckled.

“What was it Billy said in the movie again? ‘It certainly fucked you up, it made you have sex with a psychopath’? Is that not what’s happening right now, baby?” His breath was hitting your face again, and you just couldn’t help it this time. With one hand on the back of his neck, you pulled him down, pressing your lips against his in the filthiest kiss you’d ever shared. Seungmin groaned, hands meeting your waist and delving into your mouth with his tongue. You let him nibble into your bottom lip, let him nearly draw blood with his teeth until you were whining, bucking your hips up for more. 

You whined, chasing his lips for more kisses. You heard fabric rustling, and then Seungmin was pressing an ice cold blade to your neck. You shifted immediately, laying back against the pillow and looking up at Seungmin obediently. He just smiled, appearing borderline menacing in the dim lighting of the room. You were so fucking wet.

“You do get off on this,” Seungmin mused. He leaned back on his ankles, letting the knife drag down your body. With a clean swipe, it was cutting through the fabric of your tank top and leaving you in just your bra. “Should I make you bleed, hm?”

“You can- you can do anything you want, Seungmin,” You sighed, arching your back to get more of the feeling of the blade against you. Seungmin bit his lip, dragging the blade down to your jeans. He wouldn’t be able to cut through that fabric - it’s too thick, he’d need something sharper. You could practically see the cogs turning in his head and then he was shaking his head, unbuttoning your jeans and yanking them down your legs. They balanced precariously on one ankle, and you kicked them off before eyeing Seungmin up and down. “Are you… gonna get naked, or?”

“I have different plans for tonight,” Seungmin replied quickly. He gripped the knife firmer this time, until he was dragging it down to your underwear. You knew you were wet, and you shut your eyes and moaned loudly when he pressed the blade into the wet spot forming in the fabric. You thanked every god that the music was still just as loud as earlier. “I’m going to finger you and play around with this knife. I don’t think you could handle more tonight.”

He was right. Another thing that irritated you beyond belief was the fact that Seungmin seemed to read your mind. First with your silly knife play kink, and now with the fact that you definitely couldn’t handle full blown sex tonight. You would’ve tried, and gotten yourself all fuzzy over it - but he knew better. 

“Okay,” You agreed. He hummed once more, and then he hooked the blade into the lace of your underwear, cutting them off of your body. He was a bit heavy handed though, and your legs thrashed when the blade nicked your skin just a little, causing a small crimson red cut to bloom on your hip bone.

“Oh, would you look at that?” He ogled the cut, running his thumb over it. It made you whine in pain, yet he ignored you and thrust his thumb into your mouth. The taste was tangy, a bit too metallic for your liking but the whole thing was so fucking hot you couldn’t deny him anything. “Did you like that, too? Okay. We’ll explore that another time.”

Seungmin threw the knife aside once more, and then two long fingers were pressing into your folds. You laid there with legs spread, letting him explore every dip and crevice in your pussy and examine how wet you were. You knew you were dripping, and he did too - it was just a waiting game. 

You squirmed, bucking your hips up. “I’m wet enough. I promise that I am, just-“

You gasped when he pressed the knife against your throat again. You hadn’t even seen him grab it. “Stay fucking still,” He warned. “I decide when you’re ready.”

Well, you could definitely get on board with that. Seungmin sunk his middle finger into you nonetheless, meeting no resistance. Your hole was dripping around him, leaking down to his knuckle and making him sigh in approval at the sight. He still had his gloves on, the faux leather buttery and smooth inside of your hole. “This pussy’s tight, huh?”

“I’d clench it for you,” You breathed out, letting one of your hands grab your tits over your bra. The knife was still pressed tightly against the column of your throat, but you managed to pull your tits out of the lace, making Seungmin’s eyes instantly flit down to your pebbled nipples. He started to thrust his finger inside of you, the material of his gloves dragging on your rim. “I’d- I’d clench around your cock, Seungie. Make it so tight for you.”

“Yeah?” Seungmin breathed. On his next thrust in, he pushed another finger in, and then he was curling two directly at that lovely spongy spot inside of you. “I’ll look forward to it, baby. Do my fingers feel good?”

“So good,” You gushed, tweaking your nipples with your fingers. “It’s so good, and- the knife, oh god-“

“Is it like you imagined, yeah?” He moved up to your side, easing his pressure on the blade so you could turn your head and kiss him. It was just as filthy, and he moaned in approval when your walls fluttered around his digits. When he pulled away, a string of saliva connected you both. “Maybe next time, I’ll fuck you with the handle of the knife.”

You keened, starting to bounce your hips against his hand. He obliged with your movements, pressing his palm up against your clit and letting you grind the sensitive bud into his calloused hand. It was just the right amount of soft and rough, making your toes curl in your socks and your orgasm build steadily, a white hot pleasure in your pussy. 

“It’s- I need it-“

“God, do you even know what you need?” Seungmin chuckled, kissing your cheek. “I think you need to cum for me, don’t you?”

You nodded erratically, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. Seungmin dropped the knife to his opposite side once more, replacing it with a firm grip to your throat with his spare hand. The sight of his gloved digits around your throat and restricting your airflow had you wailing once more, gripping his wrist and grinding with renewed fervour. 

“I think- oh, I’m gonna cum,” Your lips parted, letting out muted moans and whines at the feeling of his fingers inside of you. “Oh, yeah, I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum for me then, no need to make a noise,” Seungmin was still amused, and you gasped before you were cumming. “That’s it, there you go.”

You felt your hole gush around his fingers, soaking the material of his gloves with white cum and your clit throbbing through your orgasm. It felt good, not only to cum but to also finally have some tension resolved with such a prominent person in your life. 

When you finally came to, you were still gasping, breath heavy and burning your lungs with every exhale. You heard Seungmin coo at you, laying back and dragging you onto his chest. 

“Good?” He questioned, and you nodded.

Then, something hit you. “Seungmin?” He hummed in response. “You cut my shirt open. What do I wear for the rest of the party?”

Seungmin stopped breathing, and then he burst out laughing, full body laughs wreaking havoc on his body. 

“It’s not funny!” You whined, but you were giggling too, slapping his chest playfully.

“You can wear the cloak, baby,” He kissed your nose. “I have clothes on underneath.”

You hummed, nodding. “You still have to wear the mask though.”

“Fuckin’ freak,” He mumbled, but he was still grinning.

“You like it.”

Seungmin kissed you again, chaste and sweet. “Unfortunately, yes.”

[rockitmans]

Red, White and Royally Screwed (1/12)

Summary:

"Kurt is not your arch nemesis," Tina says patiently down the phone. "You're not a protagonist in a Sunday morning cartoon."

Blaine scoffs. "We’re natural competitors. Both the children of the most powerful leaders in our respective countries. Or… well. Kings don't actually do anything do they?"

---

Or Kurt is a Prince and Blaine is the First Son of the United States. A Red, White and Royal Blue retelling.

Rating: E

Tropes: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fake Friendship turned Real Friendship, Texting, Banter, Royal Kurt, General Disaster Blaine

Notes: Hey there demons. It's me, ya boi. This one is the @klainesecretsanta2024 but more importantly for @annepi-blog and for all you wonderful readers of course!

I thought I had forgotten how to write words but when I saw that Anne also loved RWRB it felt like fate, nay it felt like DESTINY to finally write this fic. Anne thank you for enabling me to write this. I won't get it all posted in the Christmas period so I'm posting weekly. I do apologise but hopefully it's worth following along 😅 I hope you have a wonderful Christmas 🩷

Everyone please go check out all the other works!

---

"This is so unfair," Blaine wails. 

He's planted face down on his bed, making his complaint to his mattress. And to Tina, who sits beside him with a magazine and pats him absently at the appropriate intervals. But mostly to the mattress. 

"So deeply unfair. Probably the most unfair thing that has happened to anyone ever," Blaine continues. "Not to be hyperbolic."

"God forbid," Tina mutters. She flips a page. 

"Tina," Blaine whines. "I don't think you're offering much sympathy here. I'm in agony."

"Do you know how many people would kill to go to a Royal Wedding, Bee? On the level of first world problems, we're talking Twitter levels of petty here."

Continue on AO3

[valentinebugzee]

Baby blue blur

(Agere Sonic and Caregiver Eggman (Sonic BOOM))

------Read on Ao3 here------

(this is part of my sonic boom Au where Eggman adopted Sonic and sonic moves out when he's around 12)

Whether Sonic liked it or not, Eggman was his dad, his father, he raised him until the age of 12 when Sonic met his fox brother and swore to never be evil again.

After his departure from the Eggman empire (lair) he wanted to live with his brother Tails, which proved to be difficult considering the fact that he and Miles were homeless and kids were mean and loved to pick on them.

Eggman came to their rescue a couple of times and even made his robots build them a house on the beach, where they have a view of the lair…he claimed that he only did it because he knew Sonic will regret joining the forces of good and come back crawling, Sonic knew better than that.

Today Sonic sobbed, he cried and wailed into his pillow, this ungrateful village yet again berated him and framed him as a villain for a stupid reason.

His friends always did this too, they'd treat him as if he's a bad person with bad intentions, so what if he was cocky and arrogant and sometimes mean…and selfish…

The thoughts made the blue hero cry harder, he remembers the words his old bullies used to throw at him, how there was always a jab in every interaction back then at how he is the son of Eggman and “like father like son”, he tried to befriend good kids but he was too mean, and befriend bad kids but he was too nice, but his friends didn't know his past with Eggman.

Back then before he left Eggman’s lair he would hold him while he cried…tell him the world was cruel for geniuses like him, and everyone else is missing out.

But now there is no one to hold him, he needed his dad but he was his arch nemesis, the lair on the horizon taunted him, so clear to him from his doorless hut, he was sure that Eggman built his hut right there to taunt him.

And it worked…Sonic got up groggy and groaned, soon his friends will come over and Amy will force him to join a group therapy thing with people just as horrible as him, and he'll fail at becoming better like he always has, then his brother will tell him that it's not too bad, and knuckles will laugh, and Sticks will probably join the class too.

It was the same every single week, Sonic’s upbringing by Eggman was a luminous red dot on his forehead from a sniper's laser sight, everyone saw it but him, everyone was concerned but him.

He belongs to the Eggman empire, his father was right.

___________

Sonic bangs on the large doors of the evil lair, “Who’s knocking at this hour!?” “But It's 3:30, sir?” “Shut up!” Sonic heard Eggman and his yellow robot assistant argue from behind the doors.

The doors open revealing Eggman’s tall frame, the doctor’s Express changes when it falls to Sonic’s face.

“Hey Eggface,” Sonic greets, trying to sound casual and not at all like he was sobbing earlier, “So, still have a room for me?”

“...Are you okay?” asked Eggman, ignoring the Hedgehog's question.

“What? psht- of course I am why do you ask?” 

“You have eyeliner all over your face.”

Oh right, Sonic was wearing eyeliner and forgot to wash his face. The younger stood there for a second unmoving.

“Come in, kid.” Eggman sighed.

Sonic went inside wordlessly and sat on the couch, Eggman sat next to him. Orbot and Cubot were floating near them.

Sonic breathed in, “I want to return to the..egg empire or whatever it's called.”

Eggman beamed at the confession and pumped his fist in the air, “Haha! I knew it, knew you'd be back to your senses!” Cubot taps his boss's shoulder, “Sir, I don't wanna ruin your fun but I think there's more to this than meets the eye…” 

Eggman looked back at the hedgehog with black tear streaks all over his face, “Uh, but before we celebrate your return to villainy, what exactly caused your change of heart?” Concern laced the older man’s voice.

“Because I'm a bad person, always have been, always will be.” Sonic's voice was shaky and full of hurt. The genius tilted his head, “But you're a hero?” argued Eggman

“So? I'm still a bad person, I might save people but at the end of the day I am mean and..and selfish and…” The Hedgehog’s glassy eyes shifted to his shoes, he wanted to sob his eyes out again but he had to contain himself.

He vigorously wiped away his tears and stood up, “So, do you want me back or not?” He wanted nothing more than to go back to the way things used to be, his old room, his bed, his stuffed doggy toy he named Shoes, his dad…

Eggman stroked his chin, he thought for a moment before replying: “No.”

Sonic's world crashed before he could even get the chance to finish his flashback of his home, “What- What do you mean no!?” Sonic heaved, “You- you- you've asked me a million times and now you say no!? why the hell not!?” Sonic shouted at the man who was desperately trying to get a word in.

“Would you listen to me!?” Eggman yelled, which proved useful because Sonic was silent and hoped that the man didn't notice the way he flinched, “You can't come back because you're not actually evil.”

“But I am! no matter how many times Amy tries I'm still the same, I still make the same mistakes and everyone still treats me like a bad person, so I must be bad.” Sonic clenched his fists, tears streamed down his cheeks, he shut his eyes tightly, not wanting to see his former mentor’s expression.

Eggman got up and set a hand on the hero’s shoulder, Sonic didn't flinch this time, “Bad people don't try to become better.” 

Sonic's eyes flew open, he looked up at the man in front of him with wide eyes, Eggman scratched the back of his head, “Woah that was wise, I surprised myself. Anyways, no, you're not allowed here.”

The hedgehog felt better about himself, what Eggman said made sense, maybe he wasn't so bad, maybe everyone was wrong…but it still stung that he couldn't stay here, just for a day he wanted to feel the warmth he felt when he was a hoglet.

“...I really can't stay?”

“No, never.” Eggman announces, Cubot floated close to his ear and whispered very loudly “Sir I don't think that's what he means.”

Sonic looked up at him with tearful puffy eyes, Eggman sputtered “I mean- you can stay but you know not as a villain…you've never not been allowed here actually.”

Sonic tilted his head, “Yeah, I never had a sign that said “Sonic’s not allowed”.”

Sonic sniffled, that made sense why Eggman always seemed to enjoy his company, “Really?” His voice was softer and a little higher, Eggman’s eyebrows relaxed at the tone, “Yeah, really.”

Without thinking, Sonic threw himself into the human’s embrace, Eggman took no time to return the gesture. The hedgehog felt silly for all the time he spent missing his dad while he was right in front of him the whole time.

They had spent a few minutes standing there hugging before Eggman carried his son to the couch, he ordered Orbot and Cubot to get Sonic a wet towel for the crap ton of eyeliner on his face and his doggy plushie.

Sonic was surprised his doggy was still with him after all this time, Orbot and Cubot returned with the toy and the towel, Sonic wiped his face and hugged Shoes. Eggman wrapped Sonic up in a blanket burrito, “Better?” Sonic nodded and plopped onto the older man's lap.

“What even happened to cause all of this?”

“Jam competition, I was the taster, I said my opinion truthfully and everyone's mad.”

Eggman scoffed, “Why do people do this? they join a competition then whine and moan when it's actually a competition, they're like-”

“You?” Sonic interrupted with a cheeky grin on his face.

“Hey.” Eggman warned playfully.

“It's true!” Sonic countered, “oh really?”

Before Sonic could argue back, Eggman started tickling him, the blue boy squeaked and tried wriggling away, which proved to be difficult because he was trapped in a blanket burrito.

“Stop! Stop!” Sonic wheezed between laughter, “Haha! I finally found Sonic the hedgehog's only weakness!” laughed Eggman.

“Okay! Okay! you win, I give up!” Sonic surrenders, Eggman’s tickling comes to a halt. “How does it feel to be defeated, hedgehog?”

Sonic replied with a giggle and snuggling closer to the doctor.

Eggman turned the TV on to a random cartoon channel. Sonic shifts his attention to the colorful animation, he wanted to question Eggman for choosing to turn on cartoons, but he saw no point in that when he liked the characters on the screen.

Sonic would giggle or comment on something. Eggman, grumpy as ever, would criticize the animation and the shows humor and “back in my day blah blah blah”

“You don't like it cause you're old!” Sonic teased and stuck his tongue out.

“What's that? You're up for another tickle match?” 

Sonic shook his head frantically, he was already laughing without being tickled.

The scientist ran his fingers through the hedgehog's blue quills, the sound of the TV and purring filled the room, when the purring and giggles could no longer be heard, Eggman carried Sonic's sleeping form to his room.

When Sonic wakes up he'd speed out and away from the lair without saying goodbye, leaving shoe and his blanket.

And everything would return back to normal, Eggman attacks and Sonic kicks his behind. 

Sonic makes mistakes and Amy helps him fix them. 

The villagers chastising Sonic for every little thing and Sonic apologizes when it's worth it.

The ghosting feeling of being a bad person still haunts the hedgehog, he still has a long way before overcoming his insecurities. Some days he is on top of the world with the greatest friends on the planet and everyone else is ungrateful, some others he will weep from hurt and annoyance at his friends’ criticisms and the crushing weight of hero responsibilities. 

The only constant that remains in Sonic’s life is the lair at the horizon watching over him.

[hugsandchaos]

@zumbieve I have a Boom Sonadow idea I wish to share with you! Really, it’s for everyone to enjoy, but I also wanted you to know about it because you’re the only person I’ve chatted with who enjoys Sonadow.

So woe! Sonadow be upon ye!

So if you recall, or if you haven’t seen it, there’s a Sonic Boom episode “Two Good To Be True”. It’s like a swap AU.

Knuckles is smart, apparently the main character, seemingly Amy’s love interest, and Eggman’s arch nemesis.

Eggman has Knuckles as an arch nemesis, as I said, and his color is green instead of red.

Dave the Intern seems to have taken Tails’ role of “smart inventor” and is a good guy.

We don’t see Tails.

We saw Sticks, but not much. Hardly a few seconds.

Sonic is still fast and Knuckles still has his strength, but according to this Knuckles, this Sonic is less capable and more clumsy than original Boom!Sonic.

Now I could go on and on about how much I’ve added to this universe since they established so little it pretty much has those rules, but that’s not what I’m here to talk about in this post. In this post, I’m telling everyone who cares to read about this universe’s Sonadow… stuff!

I think that Shadow’s gone at the moment, but when he comes back, Sonic (and maybe Tails) are going to be celebrating that he’s coming back. Sonic’s going to be running around getting a bouquet of lavender and chocolate covered coffee beans with this big smile on his face.

And as a bonus bit of info, Tails really likes Shadow in this universe. They have a good friendship, and the fox is actually part of the reason Sonic and Shadow got together. Just thought you should know, he’s also excited about Shadow’s return.

So Knuckles asks Sonic what’s going on and Sonic tells him that his boyfriend is coming back. Knuckles is shocked because he didn’t even know Sonic had a boyfriend!

By next week, Bygone Island has two streaks of light, one blue and one red, zooming across its entire land.

Also, you think Shadow’s more like his modern self? Since it’s an Opposite AU?

As a little bonus, I feel like Knuckles would be suspicious of Shadow and not really like him at first, but he’ll warm up to him sooner or later.

[toytoriyadorm]

CHAPTER 9: Fire Breathing Dragon

“Popular much?” Yuukei joked once Winston got close enough.

“Hehe, I guess you can say that~.” He laughed aloud. “What brings you to the Coliseum? If you want to watch the plays, you gotta wait one more day!”

“Myeh, we ain’t impatient little kids! Me and the henchman just came to give you this junk!” Grim argued from within Yuukei’s bag, before shoving the stack of scripts into Winston’s arms. With an eyebrow raised, he quickly skimmed the content written by his supposed “arch-nemesis”.

“What?! Unfair!” He suddenly yelled, a country-like accent beginning to grow apparent. “Whatcha mean I can’t fight a dragon no more?!” 

The blonde teen and his familiar looked at eachother. “You were supposed to fight a monster?!”

“Well, technically! Zackery planned out some robot lizard thing for me to fight in our play! Lotsie always said it looked dangerous, but I didn’t expect him to pull the plug on it!” Winston sighs, further flipping through the document. “‘Now it looks like I have to fight him myself…”

“What's wrong with that? You guys are already at each other's throats most of the time, so why not just let it out on stage?” Grim commented.

“Arguing is way different from fighting!!” Winston insisted, “Fighting means pulling fists and punching people enough to break something! I can’t do that to a classmate, I’ll hurt them!

Yuukei put a finger on his chin, wondering. “...Winston, could it be that you’ve never seen any behind the scene work for action movies..?”

The student with the side ponytail turned red, confirming Yuukei’s suspicions. He scratched at the star sticker on his cheek nervously. “Maybe…”

“No wonder you got all nervous about fighting that scientist guy! You don’t even know how any of it works!” Grim exclaimed.

“Yes I do! I get hooked to wires for all ‘em fancy flipping tricks all the time!”

“Flipping ain’t fighting! You’d probably end up knocking some teeth out!”

“Well that's why I don’t want to actually fight!! If you were actually helpful, you’d do something like say you’d teach me!!” 

“Wait, that's actually a good idea.” Yuukei perked up, causing the other two to give him an odd look. “We’ve already fought off overblot monsters, so Grim can use that experience as a basis! And Grim’s able to breathe fire too, so it’ll be like play-fighting with a mini dragon!”

The magical monster tried to interject, but the blonde teen whispered into his feline ear. “Plus, we might get more than a few cans of tuna as payment…” 

That seemed to get the beast’s attention, as he jumped out of Yuukei’s bag, flames a little brighter than usual. “Hmph, I suppose I can use my super awesome mage skills– unless you plan to back out,”

“For my performance? No way!” Winston smiled in a way that reminded Yuukei of a hero. “Over my dead body!”

CHAPTER 10: Ringing

After managing to clear out the stage for the two, Winston and Grim’s practice fight began. Playful swings and fake scratches evolved into bright spells and blue fireballs being flung around the stage, never hitting their pretend target. Yuukei managed to find a spot to ensure he didn’t get hit, pulling out his camera so he could snap some cool moments to show Ace and Deuce.

“You weren’t lying about those flips!” Grim gasped aloud before casting another fireball.

Winston dodged the magic with ease, as if he were performing a dance rather than a battle. “You thought I was lying?! Mean!” He pointed his magic pen back at Grim, light swirling from its gem. 

But before Toytoriya’s star could aim for the side of the beast– just as he told him to do– he had stepped far too close to the stage’s edge.With a sudden yelp, Ramshackle’s prefect watched as Winston fell off, his un-focused spell heading right for a surprised Grim.

“Grim, watch out!”

Suddenly, a familiar glass box formed on top of the familiar, deflecting the spell right before it could even graze his fur. 

“Having a magic duel without any safety measures… you Ramshackle students must really be trying to make a mess of our festival.” A tired voice calls out, ignoring Grim banging hard on his entrapment.

“Wait! It's not what it looks like!” Winston got up from the ground, rushing over to the white-haired student. “We’re not actually fighting!! It's practice for me and Zackery’s play!”  

Pat taps his wand onto the glass box, leaving Grim to fall out with a loud “Ow!”

Still, Winston continues his explanation; “Yuukei said that since Grim and him already fought overblot monsters, they could teach me how to, like, fake fight!”

Pat stared at him with a raised eyebrow. “Ramshackle’s prefect told you that, since they fought magical monsters, they can teach you how to… avoid punching your classmate.”

“Uh, yeah!” Winston said, staring back at Pat with a far more blank look behind his eyes. 

Yuukei got up from his spot, ready to further defend his case when a loud ringing shot out of his bag. Walking up to the trio, he dug through only to find the silver watch ringing loudly. “Wow, this thing actually works? Now where’s the off button…”

Recognition flashed through Pat’s face, as he opened his mouth to ask where Yuukei had gotten the timepiece. But before he could say a word, a white glove flew past him and snatched the watch. He turned around, only to be greeted by a smile that he knew all too well.

“So that’s where you’ve been. I’ve been looking for this everywhere!” Lotsie says as he clicks the alarm off. 

[homestuckreplay]

Gushers Tasting Notes

(page 974-979)

John is, once again, coming along in leaps and bounds with his sylladex activities. His array of queuestacks (great band name) looks like a circus tent in the panel overlay. Perhaps John is recalling the embarrassing memory of Cirque du Soleil filing a restraining order against his dad (p.253).

But mostly this update is Gushers themed, so let’s get some important historical context. Gushers were created and marketed by Betty Crocker in 1991, a subsidiary of General Mills. Betty Crocker is a fictional character crafted by the company to be relatable to 1920s housewives, and she also makes Fruit Roll-Ups and Fruit by the Foot, so John needs to be careful.

Gushers were originally made in strawberry and grape flavors, but tropical and watermelon have since become popular. Since the start they’ve been made in the famous hexagonal bipyramid (‘grist’) shape. They’ve always been marketed to kids, as focus group testing showed that younger people liked the product far more, and are known for their weird commercials. From 2005-2009 they’ve run the ‘Gushers Re-Do Your Room’ flash game, where players can rearrange furniture and paint walls in a digital bedroom, and get extra items through codes on Gushers packs . The gushers-grist connection and this game being a simpler Sburb makes this a very unexpected, but possibly intentional, Homestuck intertext. In 2009 Gushers are also running the ‘Beware the Gush’ promotion. They’ve created thirteen pieces of web content, accessed by codes on Gushers packaging and ranging from a fake German TV commercial to a Google Maps tie-in, intended for kids to “gush their friends” – the multimedia aspects of this are also very Homestuck, and I bet John is gushing his friends.

I found a mini packet of Gushers in my craft box, so have done a taste test right now instead of relying on memory. Now my favorite candy is Welch’s fruit snacks blue variety bag, so to me Gushers are a pale imitation of the king, but even so I will taste these Gushers like they are a fine wine.

Appearance. Mass manufacturing takes its toll on the Gushers shape. The barest hint of the bipyramid is visible, but these candies have been squashed and battered into near-unrecognizable blobs.

Flavor diversity. The Gushers packet still includes nine candies, the same as in 1991, although the size of the actual candies has shrunk. I got all four flavors, but four blues and only one orange.

Smell. Gushers of all flavors carry a gentle aroma of wax, reminiscent of a basic candle, which makes me wonder how one would behave if set on fire.

Texture. The outside of a Gusher is a homogeneous squeaking silicone with just enough resistance to provide enrichment. The inside liquid is surprisingly cool, resulting in a pleasant contrast in temperature as well as consistency.

Taste. A lick of the Gusher’s smooth outside reveals The green Gushers are fairly sour, with notes of sherbet, while the red have the overt, juicy sweetness of a maraschino cherry. The common blue Gusher’s notes of pineapple and mango conjure ideas of ‘island time’, and the rare orange Gusher dares to suggest bright, ripe clementine.

After effects. Having recently consumed Gushers, I can feel a faint film of sugar clinging to my tongue. I have not begun tripping or suffered any adverse health effects as of (13.4 minutes post consumption) but I will update this post if this changes.

Overall opinion. As the ancient truism states, ‘Gushers don’t gush, they ooze.’ I found that the oozing center of the Gusher best revealed itself when eating the Gusher in two halves, otherwise, the liquid was too engulfed in its prison to come to the forefront. With this in mind, I award Gushers a 7.5/10. I would be cool with getting these for my birthday.

For a moment John considers taking an extended candy break, and honestly he’s earned it. Unfortunately it seems like John may never eat a Gusher again, because he’s realized for the first time that his arch nemesis the ‘heinous batterwitch’ is the mastermind behind them.

In [S] John: Mental breakdown (p.979), John, looking very smart in his new suit actually, is surrounded by pulsing Gushers and definitely-real flavors: Cool Fructose Monsoon, Kiwi Mango Colonic Rush, Wicked Watermelon Groin Injury, Mixed Berry Social Anxiety Disorder, Neon Green Ecto-Facial Blast, Jammin Sour Diabetic Coma, Wild Cherry Apeshit Apocalypse and Ranch Dressing Rampage. (His new box is Massive Tropical Brain Hemorrhage). He looks concerned, then afeared, then terrified and near-screaming, and eventually comes to the conclusion that ‘this is stupid’, accompanied by record scratch.

I do not think this is stupid. I do think it’s notable that John’s had similar breakdowns before when WV has been commanding him, and John doesn’t respond to anything besides the voice shouting in his head. Watching this I wonder if this is a problem John has dealt with more generally – I think there’s a solid argument that John has depression and/or autism, and freezing in the face of a difficult situation could be linked to either of these.

In terms of this specific trauma, John has had food pushed on him to the point of pain or sickness, I find it very believable that he’d physically struggle to eat anything made by the brand he associates that with, even if he knows it’s irrational. Betty Crocker also represents the ideal of the American housewife, someone who devotes her life to cooking and caring for the house and kids. Someone who, due to the expectations on her, might be considered stuck at home. Or something. Dad is filling that role in John’s life so it’s not quite so gendered in their house, and Betty Crocker the cultural idea could be another reminder of a suburban nuclear-family future that John wants to avoid.

On another note, I’ve noticed a few instances of color in the narrative text recently, which has previously always been black. This first showed up on page 919 where Jade takes over the narrative with her speech, finishing with a red ‘<3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’. It happens again on page 934 with the green word ‘ectobiology’, and it’s here on page 978 with John’s ‘WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY???????????’ in Betty Crocker red. The only earlier examples are page 640 (an embedded image reading ‘SWEET CATCH!’ in green) and page 663 (a link to Sweet Bro & Hella Jeff using red Comic Sans). Based on all this, I wonder if color enters the narrative text when one of the main characters ‘takes over’ and wants to add something. Although these uses don’t correspond to Pesterchum colors, they all seem intended as things the kids are saying or writing, except for ‘ectobiology’, which is so closely associated with John that it’s practically his name.

> John: Search house for non-Crocker branded candy.

[sseniita]

god tier seduction

(cw suggestive?? not really)

His eyes darkened under his long black lashes.

"Stop that."

The villain loomed far taller than she did. He was long, slender and sharp around the edges. A perfect shadow. She was softer, shorter, her long wavy hair puffing around the frame of her face acting like curtains- shielding her. He raised an eyebrow, eyes bored but calculating.

"Stop what?" His voice barely above a whisper.

"That. That villain stare you do. Save that for the others, will you?"

"Are you suggesting you get special treatment from me?"

"I'm suggesting that you cut that out." she pressed further.

The villain chuckled, pacing towards the hero, kicking his legs lazily with every step. Finally two or three feet away from the hero. Hero stood straight and unrelenting under the villain's eyes, smooth as glass.

"You do, you know." He said matter-of-factly. "I'd never treat a Hero as luxuriously as I treat you." His gaze lingered a bit too long on the Hero's figure, sizing her up like she were prey. He tilted his head- the hero's que to respond something witty but nothing only curiosity came out.

"Why?" Her question seemed to please the villain.

"Darling! Look at yourself, I mean besides that, what is there to even dislike. Your unwavering..." He paused to find the right word. "Humanity. Courage, grace, optimism, intelligence. My love, I could go on."

He sneaked closer and when he softly grabbed the hero's face in his hands, she let him. "You're perfect. In every sense of the word, dear."

That wasn't new. Hero was perfect. She was thin where it looked best, and softer too. Blonde hair, blue eyes, sun kissed skin. Her tight pink spandex suit hugs all the right places, not too flashy but definitely recognizable. Her voice was like honey most of the time, often compared to her own nemesis'. She's heard it all before- the epitome of 'beauty' as some would call it. Although she'd prefer the villain arched nose, tanned skin and brown eyes.

In fact she was called perfect in the same way the villain was called cunning, genius, handsome, and compelling. Maybe that's why her cheeks flushed red and her pupils dilated. Maybe that's why he let her play with her hair as he continued whispering sweet nothings to her. Maybe it was because this was no longer the masses praising a god; but rather a god praising it's own mirror image.

The villain's hand found it's way to a scar hidden in her golden curls behind her ear. Barely 4 centimeters in length, a thin thread of raised, white skin where hair didn't grow anymore. No one knew it was there. No one except Villain.

He moved his index finger smoothly up and down the scar, almost caringly.

"I love that this is our secret." He whispered in her ear, causing her to shiver. His lips slowly inched closer until they were on her scar, they stayed there, biting and kissing, making the hero sigh with pleasure, solely supporting her head in the villain's hands.

It all finally clicked for the hero as she silently chuckled. The villain hummed, seemingly asking what's so funny?

"You only like it cause it's my only imperfection, it's you. You are my only imperfection." It seemed funny that Hero notices just now with the villain practically slobbering at their neck. He didn't seem to disturbed though. Egotistical bastard.

Without moving the villain of exactly where he shouldn't be, Hero reached for his wrist on the other side of her face. She slipped her thumb under his sleeve to find a matching scar to her's. His was thicker, planned, and much, much cleaner than her's. The villain pulled away to look at his hero.

Without breaking eye contact, she put his scar to her mouth and kissed it, every so gently- villain considered it heaven, but in reality they both knew it was an act of war. It really didn't matter to the villain as the hero made her way from his wrist to his lips, where they would revisit again and again against all better judgement.

[jaimemes]

blue hair? and pronouns?

yea im looking for my arch nemesis red hair and adverbs

[crackrodent]

Hello! A few quick things to know about this blog:

The order? None.

Chaos? Lots.

Minors? Not interacting.

Hate and Bigotry? NOT WELCOME!

Autism & ADHD? Yeah, I got them.

Actual drug use? No.

Literary drug use? Definitely.

Fuck Yeah!

However...

I am still learning to write and mostly do crack prompts hence the blog name. So if you want to ask about some characters robbing a bank together or getting married for tax fraud then I am your rodent!

I write:

Niffty, Emily, Baxter, Charlie, Vaggie, Lucifer, Husk, and Angel Dust. (You can ask for others but high chances are I will not feel inspired to write it so it won't get done.)

Fluffy crack

Angsty crack

I can try regular fluff but no promises

I also can draw a really bad Niffty but not by request. Just a humble brag.

Some things I will not write:

X Reader - Yet

Smut - Yet

Unhealthy relationships (If someone is a minor, has their soul owned by the other, they are related by blood/law/declaration) - Ever

Anything that breaks up Chaggie or Huskerdust. - Ever

Husk Is Afraid Of Boats The Rodeo Niffty's Missing Meds

Sponsored by VoxTek Prompt of the Week Week 1: I'm Surrounded By Idiots

Week 2: What. Are. Those?

Week 21: Can I kiss you?

Week 22: I adopted puppies!

... I missed a few weeks

Voxtek Server Winter Event 2024 Prompt: Christmas Lights

Mobile Link

For the love of God, Cthulhu, Lucifer Morningstar, or whomever you worship, please go read my ask blog and send Niffty and Baxter asks.

Maid Scientist Find A Baby

YES! Here are some of my Hazbin Homies! And some of what you will find on their blogs.

Blue! - Alastor x reader/OC

Inu! - RadioApple (also the creator of the Zoology series)

Sepphy! - RadioApple & RadioStatic and general writing content

Saffy! - Alastor x Wife!Reader

Sunset! - Alas, wait... NOT ALASTOR, its Emilute, and GuitarSpear

Red! - Alastor x reader and Vox x reader (she's an Adam simp too but on the down low)

Kit! - Alastor, Vox, Lucifer for Hazbin (she also reblogs a lot of pictures of Tom Hiddleston)

Nyx! - Yall, not only does she write (for multiple characters), she also creates audio versions of some of Kit and Red's stories

And a bonus, my arch nemesis,

Bunny! - Hazbin and Helluva Boss multi-shipper

[red-water-dragon]

Raren demonstrating a suspicious spell in front of the royal court.

visual storytelling notes:

The bg was left blank until I started painting and the elements added to the bg were designed around the character. I didn't go into this with a little synopsis of what I wanted to convey. Only an abstract idea that Raren was going to be talking to someone, figure it out later. I decided he'd be presenting a new spell in front of a political chamber because he wears a crown and a blue crystal. So he has to be of some form of nobility and magical prowess. He also has blue eyes meaning he is an ice dragon and thus its a blue spell wow. The monarchs he's addressing are left dark and disapproving in the corner while Raren powers a statue beneath them. He could be demonstrating how the spell effects the world around them, maybe it freezes the stone? maybe it brings the statue to life? Either way its primed to eat Raren's opposition. Two of the bg guys are red one is blue maybe he's an arch nemesis who knows.

Art process and wips under the cut

I'm trying and failing to get better at visual story telling while keeping things simple. My long term goal is to have a frequent and consistent posting schedule. Most of the art would be stylized and simple like this and the rest could be fully rendered.

Art has been more of a "draw what's in you head and make it look pretty/ cool to hang up later" thing to me w/ the benefit of being a good source of self reflection as I create. Writing has more so been my go to for expressing that meditation. Writing I don't share because im unnecessarily cagy abt my emotions and my harshest critic lol. I want to tell stories with my art , convey tone, feeling, etc. and right now my paintings don't do that. I don't have the technical skill yet. This painting is the first of many to come that will hopefully change this.

The texture in this is chaotic and the line work is rough. Raren is the only part of this with a full sketch. All other line art was added to create the illusion of detail. There is less attention on rendering each section and more being put into the placement of characters and props. I had hoped this would make the painting go faster and...it has the potential to do so in the future. Sooo a piece that could have taken a couple hours took a whole day.

While im not overly thrilled with the final image im still happy about the process. Normally the dragon would be the only real focal point in my painting with the bg being a gradient, or a simple theme added last second. Conveying a message is more work but it gives more cool things for the eye to look at and the mind to ponder. So in theory even if the final result is aesthetically unappealing the theme can still salvage the work a bit.

what this taught me:

sketchy line work is passable in the final image

it can even add character to the art

plants are a great way of filling space without actually doing so

(hence the wip of the room looking empty af with out them)

the more clothing and eye candy you put on your character the more clutter you have to add to the bg to balance it out

the main oc was sketched the bg was painted on the fly

doing so saved time but harmed the natural flow of the piece

all of the storytelling is happening in quarters and it is almost abrasive to look at

what ill try in the next piece:

perspective guides

less shading and rendering

find a color palette to stick to

or work in greyscale first

write a little picture synopsis

or pick a theme

just find something that acts as a story guide

sketch out bg elements

toy around with the sketch more before moving to painting