#split into 2 parts bc uh him

[lenreli]

Ferdinand Kingsley in the BTS for The Comeuppance photoshoot

Part 1 // Part 2

[markresonates]

two hot

summary: for some reason, your body requires more than one alpha to satiate your needs in heat, leading Mark to seek assistance from his best friend when you unexpectedly start going into heat in public.

pairing: alpha bf!Mark x omega!fem reader x alpha!Haechan

other: alphas Jen & Jis lil voy

genre/trope: porn w/ lil plot, tiny fluff bc i'm soft; omegaverse, fake medical conditions as a plot device; (eventual poly, not jealous love tri)

word count: 8.8k

a/n: so here's that markhyuck omega heat sex threesome idea i mentioned a while ago...per usual, it’s longer than i said why am i the way i am so i’m splitting it into 2 pts!

warnings: rough unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), cock warming, manhandling, exhibitionism & extremely public, voyeurism, humiliation, lil dumbification, overstimulation, degradation & praise, spitting, stomach bulge, cum inflation, knotting, oral fixation reader, breeding & creampie kinks; sweet hard dom Mark & hard dom Haechan, super sub reader [ note – heat sex is categorized as dubcon; therefore, read at your own discretion ]

You thought you had more time. You should have had more time. 

About an hour into your new Introduction to Astronomy lecture, your waning attention span is fully disrupted by a suspicious wetness you feel between your thighs. You uncross your legs and casually glance down, heart dropping when you discover a small pool of glossy slick in the middle of your lecture hall seat, heralding the start of your heat.

it’s official: life fucking hates you. 

Rationally, you’re aware of the fact that you need to formulate a plan but as you shift in your seat, your train of thought is derailed by the sensation sparked between your legs. You clench your jaw and grind your teeth together, forbidding your mouth from vocalizing the shred of gratification you get from squirming in your seat. 

Of all the damn days to pair a bodysuit and a pleated mini skirt, this day has got to be the absolute worst. But of course it had to be warm enough today that you felt comfortable showing more skin. In your mind, it made sense to seize the favorable weather before the last remnants of Summer disappeared into a chilly Autumn, but now you’d rather be bundled in three thick layers and sweating buckets than vulnerable in your current attire.

While you arch your back and discreetly grind against the messy chair, the bodysuit stretches, progressively sliding up your abdomen, and bunching at your waist. The damp material tugs on your hood, a second later, your clit is subjected to rough stimulation directly. Intense tingles ripple through your core from the sensitive spot. Even with your lips pressed together, you can’t suppress the tiny high-pitched squeak in your throat.

Renjun angles his laptop towards you, quickly typing out are you okay? 

You freeze your body. Giving him a terse nod, you rid yourself of the unwanted attention and resume the lewd activity. It takes a mere 30 seconds for your folds to eat up the narrow strips of material that once covered your intimate parts, giving your slick pussy a wedgie. It’s uncomfortably restrictive, and yet, simultaneously a massive turn on. 

You should be more concerned but the torturous pressure feels too good to stop, restraint briefly suspended again in a pleasured daze, chasing the desired pulsating sensation. Your eyes pop out of your head hearing the small metal snap of your bodysuit’s crotch region pop open, exposing your panties underneath and instantly bringing you back to reality. 

Jisung ducks his head near your ear. “Hey, what’s that-?”

“What’s what?” you immediately cut him off, worried he heard the same noise.

He hums, pursing his lips. “What’s that smell?”

“uh, well…” 

You gulp, so mortified that it’s impossible to meet his eyes, embarrassment warming your cheeks, your heat cranking up the bubbling sensation within you.

This shouldn’t be happening. You’ve documented your heat cycle since the day you started taking suppressants years ago. If you left it up to nature, your heat would be a seasonal affair. Now, thanks to the convenience of modern-day medicine, taking one daily pill significantly lowers your heat cycle frequency to biannually.

It’s always been consistent enough that you could pinpoint the exact 48 hour period in which it would start. In fact, a series of predetermined dates are highlighted on your desk calendar for when you’re supposed to be in heat: over four months from now.

Your scent is detectable in two ways: if someone were to press their nose directly to your scent gland, or the significantly more potent way, through the profuse slick secretion omegas produce in heat. 

And given the fact that you’re practically sitting in a puddle of slick at the moment, panic is knocking at your front door with fever. Any alpha in a ten foot radius will soon smell the arousing nectar leaking out of you. 

Fortunately, you’re in the last row of a half empty lecture hall. Rather than a dozen alphas, it’s a handful of the closest ones that’ll be raising their noses to get a whiff of the fragrant aroma floating through the air, two of those alphas being your friends.

Jisung sniffs around curiously, even going so far as to lean forward, over where Jeno is sitting directly in front of you.

“Hmm, it’s, like, sweet and fruity. Do you smell it? Like raspberries…or maybe strawberries?”

Renjun stops typing notes on his laptop. “I don’t smell anything.”

Figures; betas like Renjun don’t detect omega scents until they are at the absolute peak of their heat, and even then it wouldn’t be very strong. 

“Also, for your information, raspberries and strawberries aren’t berries.”

“Wha- Really!?” 

“Yeah. Most fruits that end in ‘berry’ aren’t actually berries, botanically speaking.”

“Um, Renjun?” you try to grab his attention in a hushed voice, failing as a result of Jisung talking over you at the same instant.

Besides your first heat, you’ve always been well prepared. You take preventative measures against potential alphas who may smell you and want to take advantage of a heat-drunk omega. 

Your typical protocol entails remaining holed up in your dark room. The mini fridge by your desk is fully stocked with four days worth of food and beverages, the air conditioner is on full blast, curtains and blinds drawn closed. Your door is secured shut with three bolted locks too.

For your past few heats, Mark has locked himself up with you as well. Being an omega, it was of vital importance to find a trustworthy alpha that wouldn’t savagely take advantage of your heat-induced instinctual nature to follow an alpha’s orders. The whole reason you submit to Mark is because you know he would never take things too far. For your past two heats, Mark was knotting you until his exhaustion proved overwhelming, and he physically couldn’t use his big dick any longer. Basically, your alpha can’t go far enough, for some indiscernible reason.

Based on the increasing amount of slick and the new ache in your core, you’d estimate you have less than an hour before your heat will seriously start affecting your senses. There’s a reason you keep track of your heat cycle, and it’s to avoid horrendous situations like this one. 

You’re struck with uncertainty and a minor sense of helplessness, facing your worst nightmare alone. At the moment, you don’t have Mark by your side, protecting you from other predatory alphas, ensuring you eat and drink something when you’re too out of it to do so yourself; and most importantly, pleasuring you to take away the pain that comes with your extreme heat cramps. 

You need Mark. 

Mouth beginning to water, deep in your filthy thoughts, you don’t register the conversation around you. You imagine him taking care of you in this very lecture hall, bent over the sturdy wooden podium at the front of the class.

You’re preoccupied and perplexed, a fraction of you developing a peculiarly strong craving for a knot – any knot. Considering how fast your heat crept up on you in the first place, you have every reason to believe this craving will continue to intensify. You feel ashamed to admit it, but at this rate, you might just find yourself allowing any alpha to knot you. 

Jisungs face scrunches up in disbelief, hearing another botanical fun fact. “No way. You’re trying to tell me bananas are berries? I don’t believe you.”

Jeno snorts, barely peering over his shoulder to throw his two cents into the hushed conversation. “Why are you arguing with Renjun? When was the last time you ate a fruit?”

“I don’t know. When was the last time you didn’t fall asleep at 6 am?” Jisung grumbles, not-so-quietly as he intended. 

If they weren’t in a classroom setting, Jisung would’ve hidden behind Renjun or grabbed something to shield himself from the other alpha’s wrath. Jeno fully twists his torso around, dawning a toothy grin that spells trouble for the youngest in the near future. He opens his mouth to speak but ultimately falls silent.

The lecture hall’s desks are the type that flip down to hover over half of your lap. With only your right thigh covered, Jeno’s eyes flick down to where you've been looking. 

He zeros in on the source of the fruity scent Jisung was referencing. He drops his smile, licking his lips, dark pupils flashing candy apple red. The other two shift their attention to your lap in quick succession.

Initially, Jisung doesn’t see what they do from his position. His curiosity then leads the naive boy to bend his upper body down and inch forward. Finally granted a vantage point to peer between your legs, his face turns a shade that matches the berries he spoke of a minute ago.  

“Uh, y/n? Are you, um, in-” Jisung stutters, his bright eyes locked between your parted thighs. 

Both alphas stare, mystified by the sight of your drenched panties, the thin white material now see-through and doing nothing to stop you from making a mess in the center of the lecture hall chair. Lifting your head, you see Jeno’s pupils fully dilated, swirling with lust, and you imagine Jisung isn’t too far off, mirroring the older alpha. 

You belatedly try to snap your thighs together but Jisung, of all people, latches onto your inner knee and keeps most of your seeping slit on display for them. His fingers digs into your soft skin in an uncharacteristically possessive manner, while Jeno quietly growls. 

They’re increasingly aroused hearing a spurt of your slick gush from your core, discovering you to be turned on by your own humiliation. You softly whine, embarrassed beyond all possible belief. 

“What happened to decorum, huh?” the beta scolds the younger alphas. 

Jisung snaps out of it and rips his hand away so fast it hits his desk. “Ow!”

“Acting like you just presented and never smelled slick before? Ugh. Get a fucking grip, you guys.” 

Renjun sets his phone on his desk, angling it towards you to show his screen and you tune out the apology from the frazzled boy on your right. “Hey, so I texted Mark. The good news is he’s on his way.” 

You exhale in relief. “Okay. Wait, what’s the bad news?”

Renjun winces, reluctant to kill your newly kindled hope. “Well…he said it’ll probably take him a half hour to get here.”

“A half hour?” 

You snap your tongue, loathing today’s dreaded turn of events. You squeeze your eyes shut to fight off the tears threatening to stain your burning cheeks.

“Oh, hold on.” Renjun scans the new message from your boyfriend, rereading it in his head, triple checking the text before delivering the additional details. “He said he’s…sending someone to get you? And they’ll be here in a dozen minutes or so.”

You furrow your brow, confused. “Who?” 

“Dunno, he didn't say.” Renjun shoots him another text, asking for the identity of this mystery person he’s referring to. 

You stare at his phone intently, beads of sweat forming on the back of your neck and haloing your hairline. Renjun taps the dim screen to keep it from turning off.

As you impatiently wait for an answer, your old nervous habit of picking and biting your nails resurfaces. You peel part of your nail off and fixate on the minor self-inflicted sting for the sake of a distraction from your intimate regions pulsating with arousal, not to mention the graphic, x-rated imagery about how easily you’d bend over for alphas in your vicinity.

Renjun lifts the back of his hand to your feverish forehead, the worry on his face deepening into his soft features. “Don’t take this the wrong way, y/n, but why did you come to class if you were in pre-heat?”

“When I left my apartment this morning, I didn’t fucking feel like I was in pre-heat,” you hiss through clenched teeth. 

You ring your head low and swallow your bad temperament as the harsh tone reaches your ears. You cringe, barely recognizing your own voice.

“I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated because I don’t know what’s going on. I shouldn’t take it out on you though.”

“No, it’s fine, I get it. You’re stressed out.” Renjun gives you a sympathetic look, equally as confused by your body as you are. “Well this explains why you wore that today.”

“What do you mean?”

Renjun clicks on the weather app to show you the temperature outside. “Because it’s cold today. But if you were really warm, the temperature outside wouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Ugh, oh my god. You’re right,” you reply, mentally slapping your forehead for not actually checking the forecast for today. Simply put, you believed you knew better, based on how warm your room felt when you got out of bed this morning.

You hold your abdomen and apply minimal pressure there, preparing for the onset of pain when your cramps start up, just like the bad habit responsible for the new drop of blood swelling at the tip of your finger. 

Jisung is quick to dig into his messy backpack and procure a quick fix for any minor injuries. It’s clear that he’s trying to be as helpful as possible, still feeling terribly guilty for holding your thighs open and preventing you from hiding what was visible to him and Jeno through your thin panties. 

You dab the blood with the folded tissue he hands you, and then wrap the blue and green, dinosaur themed band-aid around your finger. “Thank you,” you whisper to Jisung sincerely, touching his arm to express gratitude. 

You don’t blame the guilt-ridden alpha too much. After watching your pussy leak slick through the soaked white material, it was only in his nature to want to breed an omega on the verge of going into heat. The baby alpha Jisung you know and love wouldn’t do that.

Renjun lightly taps the back of your hand when you pick the finger next to the freshly bandaged one. He clasps your hands together, preventing you from doing more damage to that hand, at least. 

You frown at your hypocritical friend who himself hasn’t managed to kick the same bad habit as you. Nonetheless, you appreciate his comforting action. 

“You know, I keep thinking why me? What have I done to deserve this?” You gesture at your thighs with your free hand. “And how am I supposed to last another however many minutes?”

Renjun pauses and sighs. “On second thought, maybe you should go now. It’s way stuffier inside, so it might be a good idea to go splash some water on your face in the bathroom first before whoever Mark sent gets here.”

You hesitate for a second. You're troubled by not only the mess you've made in your seat, but the continual trickle of slick, potentially painting a colorful bullseye on your wet cunt. 

Alphas with practiced, keen olfactory systems can track a scent from a mile away, the express purpose to savagely use the needy omega they find simply because your kind is at its most vulnerable in heat. 

You always knew that omegas drew the short stick in life, but it was only after you had observed Mark’s rut in person that you officially became envious of alphas. An alpha’s number one priority during rut, above food and shelter and anything in between, is to breed omegas. 

They’ll brutally fuck a slick hole for multiple days, repeatedly knotting them until their bun-hungry alpha brain is sure that the omega will deliver them happy, healthy pups. 

Nearly every omega and most alphas take suppressants, making the chances of knocking up an omega less than 0.001% if both partners are medicated. Though, regardless of their incredibly slim chances of conceiving, that does not dissuade a stubborn alpha in rut from attempting to produce offspring. 

During Mark’s last rut, despite the primal need to dominate and fuck your brains out, oddly enough, his stamina weirdly didn’t match yours. 

“Whoever Mark’s sending is supposed to get here any minute, so there’s no real harm in leaving a minute earlier. No one would try anything with you if you’re in a public setting like school,” Renjun assures you and gives your hand one last squeeze. 

“Y/n?” Jisung works up the courage to gently tap your arm like you did his, giving you what remains of the travel size tissue packet that’s been in his backpack for nearly three years. “Don’t worry about the chair. We’ll wipe it off when you leave.”

Jeno guiltily turns around again and apologizes like the younger alpha. He then makes a generous offer to save you the trouble of waiting a second longer to leave for good. 

“I can drive you home now, if you want, y/n. And, you know, if you feel comfortable enough being alone with another alpha…no pressure. It’s just the least I can do.”

“Um, thank you. I think, uh…” 

Fifteen minutes ago, when you had no plan whatsoever and hadn’t been in contact with Mark, you would’ve taken him up on the offer, but Renjun is right. You know that a part of you is really craving a knot. However, you believe you’re lucid enough to handle going to the bathroom by yourself. 

You don’t see yourself jumping at the first opportunity to sit on a throbbing alpha cock, bouncing up and down, pathetically begging them to fill you up with an excessive amount of cum, like you did before. Plus, you don’t want to attract even more unwanted attention if two of you were to stand up and walk out in the middle of the lecture. 

“I think I’m good, Jeno. It’s just around the corner. I’ll be fine.” 

You pick up your bag, tying the varsity jacket that Jeno generously handed to you around your waist. You head for the door, walking at a reasonable speed to not attract more attention than your scent likely has. 

Jeno’s jacket conceals most of the slick running down your inner thighs, and you make a mental note to somehow make it up to him later.

You have almost reached the bathroom when, out of nowhere, you’re ambushed by an alpha, pressed face first against the brick wall of the science building. 

Whoever it is had the sense to slip his hand in front of your heated forehead to break the blow against the wall and not crack your skull open on impact. Obviously, alphas don’t want a dead omega. 

You can’t breed something that’s not breathing.

That’s basic alpha 101.

Your heart rattles in your ribcage, racing a million miles per hour. You wish you were allotted enough time to wipe up your slick before being attacked. 

If only you had accepted Jeno’s offer to be safely escorted, then you wouldn’t be pinned to a wall, hands held behind your back by an alpha presumably relying purely on an animalistic desire.

To make matters worse, being dominated so aggressively triggers a surge of arousal from within your inner omega, the yearning for sexual fulfillment intensifying at a rate higher than in your lecture. 

On instinct, tremendously touch starved, you grind your hips back, pressing your ass against the half-hard cock hidden in the alpha’s pants. 

He leans closer to your ear, pulling the cherry lollipop out of his mouth to whisper in a deep, gravelly voice, “Did somebody miss me?” 

You whimper, timidly, and he chuckles. 

Something possesses you to tilt your head to the side, submissive and craving a knot so damn badly that you’re willing to bare your vulnerable neck for the alpha. 

He hesitates, before nosing at your scent gland, shakily exhaling through his mouth. Presented with such an alluring opportunity, the alpha almost loses his cool, tempted to accept your invitation and take advantage of your omega’s baseline reflex to submit. 

Practicing a degree of restraint that very, very few alphas in his unique position possess, he instead places a single soft kiss to the spot he knows is reserved for Mark’s teeth.

Mark…

You break out of your innate trance as lips that don’t belong to your alpha are still pressed to your neck, the gravity kicking in about what it means to allow a stranger to bite and claim you. 

You can’t imagine what your life would be like as a double claimed omega, shared by two alphas, belonging to both Mark and the mysterious, possessive person behind you. 

You catch him off guard by ripping away. You whip around, snapping your tongue when you finally discover the identity of your attacker. 

“Argh, what the fuck, Haechan?”

You lean back against the solid wall, holding a hand over your chest as if your heart is on the brink of bursting through the slats of your ribs. 

“Did you have to give me a heart attack? What happened to saying hello, hm?”

He snickers, a melodious, infectious laugh that makes you want to smile as well. This time, with tremendous effort, you hold your ground. 

“What’s the fun in that, sweetheart?” he says, sticking the candy back in his mouth.

You wish you could chase away the butterflies in your stomach that are consistently conjured up when his designated pet name for you rolls off his silver tongue. You’ve seen Haechan flirt with countless girls, yet he’s always reserved “sweetheart” and “sweetie” for his favorite omega. 

You can’t describe why hearing his pet names excites you, inappropriately so. Perhaps, you like feeling special to him in some way, his sugar-coated sweet tooth reserved for you and you only.

Mark knows all of this.

He would have to be both blind and deaf to not see Haechan’s effect on your body and pick up on the sound of your heart racing. His charming best friend is frustratingly swoon worthy, but Mark had never minded it much. A case can be made that Mark is the jealous type. It’s for this very reason you find it so curious that he allows Haechan to get away with openly flirting with his omega.

“Why are you even-?” 

You freeze as he wipes a tear from your cheek, trailing the back of his fingers along the side of your face and down your neck. He wraps his hand behind your neck with his thumb pressing into where your pulse is fluttering rapidly, tucking the lollipop into the side of his cheek to speak.

“Shh, take deep breaths for me, baby. In…out…in…out.” 

The alpha’s instruction marginally calms your nerves, your omega instincts compelling you to follow without question. You are obedient and malleable, most especially in heat, for Haechan and your own alpha, of course.

“Good girl.” His praise has you biting your lip, whining softly. “Renjun probably told you but Mark’s on his way. He sent me to take care of you first.”

“Oh,” you reply, dumbly. 

You should have suspected that Mark would send him to pick you up. It’s obvious in retrospect. He trusts Haechan with his life; by extension, he would have total faith in his best friend to handle you too.

“Yeah, oh,” he mimics with an annoyingly charming curl of his heart shaped lips. 

Haechan basically gets off on annoying people, although his form of teasing you differs from others. Plus, you never fail to give him the reaction he’s searching for, playfully rolling your eyes, quietly snapping your tongue, or throwing some weak comeback in return. 

“Are you disappointed to see me, y/n? I know you're Mark’s princess but you’ll just have to settle for me this time.”

“Wow, how noble of you. My hero,” you reply, sarcastically. “Can we go now?”

“By all means, lead the way, sweetheart.”

Right on queue, you roll your eyes, just like he knew you would. You take a few steps in the direction he gestures to before the first heat cramp punctures your core. Luckily, Haechan catches your body as your knees buckle, doubling over in pain. 

Haechan clears his throat. “Y/n, you should know that Mark didn’t just send me here to pick you up,” he says cryptically, unpocketing his phone. 

He proceeds to play a voicemail Mark left him. You listen with pursed lips, furrowing your brow as you take in your alpha’s words. 

You try to concentrate on the message, partially distracted by Haechan’s scent swirling around you, quickly permeating your skin and thoughts. 

“Hyuck, you’re the only alpha I completely trust to take care of y/n like that…and by that, you know what I mean. And don’t be surprised if she, like, starts to beg for it. She can be realllly needy, trust me.”

There’s a spike in Haechan’s scent, reminded of his personal mission to hear you beg. 

Despite not having kissed him, you can taste him on your lips. His all-encompassing spicy musk intensifies, melting into a subtle syrupy vanilla that clings to your tongue and stirs up a hunger for forbidden fruit. The cherry candy is no match to his natural scent.

“Oh! One more thing. y/n likes it a bit, um, rough when she’s in heat…so just keep that in mind. I’ll be there as soon as possible, dude. 40 minutes tops. Alright, see you then.”

Haechan looks at you, searching for a reaction, but instead, he sees your face contort painfully again. 

“Sweetie, look at me.” 

You turn your head, now within proximity to count all the pretty moles on his sun-kissed face, like sunflower seeds you’re tempted to taste and swallow by the handful until you’re physically ill. 

“Do you want…” 

You straighten your back again, a chill running up your spine as Haechan slowly reaches under your skirt. He drags his hand up the inside of your thigh. The tips of his fingers draw through the many lines of slick dripping down your legs.

“…my help?” he finishes in a tone deeper than you knew he could produce. 

Your cheeks and ears burn with embarrassment, feeling another mini rush of wetness soak the utterly useless material covering your throbbing core. There’s no denying that you’re incredibly aroused by Haechan. He knows you know he can smell the gush of new slick you involuntarily released.

A strong sexual desire pumps through your veins, driving you up the walls. You’ve always been curious about what it would be like to have the alpha ruin you and use your body like a toy, but you’re not certain how much of that can be attributed to being on the verge of heat. For better or for worse, you decide that that’s a problem for future you to determine, and present you to toss out the window. 

Tasting a mere crumb of Haechan’s touch wasn’t enough – you had to swallow him whole, and the only way you could do that is by giving him the pleasure of devouring you first. 

“y-yes, please.” 

Your answer is so faint that if he were any farther away, he wouldn’t have heard it. 

Haechan suppresses a smug smile, pleasantly surprised to get your first “please” this soon after catching up with you. 

“That’s what I thought, sweetheart.”

His skilled fingers touch where you want him most, grazing over your clothed pussy. Anticipating some kind of pleasured noise, he holds your body close and pops the lollipop inside your mouth. 

He scans your surroundings for a place nearby with any additional smidge of privacy. Locating a possible secluded destination, he steers your weak body in the direction of his choice. Haechan snakes a hand up the front of your skirt again, pressing his thick cock against your ass as you stumble forward. 

Imagining how dirty you must look turns you on, the debauchery of grinding on someone in broad daylight while they have your skirt flipped up to rub over your wet panties has your vision blurring momentarily. Modesty is nothing but a vague concept in the far off distance, seconds away from disappearing over the horizon. 

The next thing you know, your body is pressed against a cool hard surface, bleary eyed and craving the kind of high only a mind blowing orgasm can earn. 

You vaguely recognize you’re behind the science building you came out of before Haechan ambushed you, escaping the bright rays of burning sun that were beating down on you by slinking into the secluded shadows with the golden, silky voiced alpha.

Your skirt rides up as he shoves a knee between your legs. He gets a firm grip on your hips as you grind down against his thigh, soaking the material of his skinny jeans, creating a wet spot in the denim with your slick.

“Wow, would you look at that? Baby made a mess all over me already. I bet you wanted that, huh? Rubbing your slick on me so people know you’re fucking two alphas?”

You remove the lollipop to refute his provocative claim. “I-I’m not fucking two alphas.”

“Ha, maybe…not yet, anyways. But you want to. Isn’t that right, y/n?”

Your mouth goes dry, tongue rough, throat scratchy like sandpaper. You part your lips to argue with him but nothing comes out. Instead, you insert the lollipop again, sucking on the shrinking round candy, a poor attempt at covering up your original intention.

“Exactly…now, let’s see what we’ve got here.”

Haechan places your clammy hands on either side of his shoulders to ensure you won’t lose your balance, then he lowers himself to crouch in front of you.

“Hold.” He lifts up your skirt, giving you the bottom hem so he can get down to business.

Haechan’s fingers dig between your clothed folds, feeling your slick leak onto his hand. The thin material pushes into your entrance in an unsatisfying way and you whine. 

He tsks his tongue three times, shaking his head. “Just as I suspected.” 

You don’t need a reminder of how wet you are, and yet Haechan still brings his hand up for you to see the wet webbing clinging to the tips of his spread fingers anyways. A small embarrassed noise escapes your mouth. 

“Aw, sweetheart,” he coos, using his thumb to toy with your clit, “you look so adorable when you’re embarrassed. All rosy-cheeked and messy.”

Haechan slides your panties down your legs and you cooperate by stepping out of them, hands still anchored to his shoulders. He brings them to his face and licks off a great majority of the wetness that seeped out of you, peering into your soul as he does so. Your lips form a slight pout, missing his touch.

“Ha, Mark was right. You are a needy omega,” he teases and pockets your panties like a trophy he’ll proudly keep forever. 

“What would Mark say if he saw his precious omega barring her neck for a total stranger?” 

You softly moan a bit louder as he curls his fingers just right. Your knees wobble, struggling to stay upright. 

The image of the alpha ravaging your body while Mark watches the act unfold, makes it difficult to focus on your surroundings, distracting you from the minor degree of shame in your chest. 

You couldn’t care less about your indecent exposure at the moment either – you feel too good to care about anything. 

“H-haechan…I want you…want you so fucking bad,” you breathe out, words slightly slurred with the round candy in your mouth. 

Haechan’s cock twitches, picturing you in tears, your walls struggling to accommodate him. However, he is aware that behind a school building isn’t the most ideal place to take an omega in heat, especially considering the potency of your heavenly scent, steadily increasing. 

Since Mark isn’t here yet, the least he could do is take you inside the building.

Your slick seeps into the frontside of Haechan’s clothes, clinging to his upper body for dear life as he carries you into an empty classroom. He sets you down on the lab table and observes the damage to his clothes.

“i-i’m sorry about that.” You lean back, peering down at your lap, nervously.

“Oh, baby…c’mere.”

Haechan cups over your knees and tilts forward to kiss your neck, sucking a dark hickey right next to your mating mark from his best friend. 

“I like collecting these little spots from you.” He pries your thighs apart and draws closer to your bare pussy.

“It’s cute that your body can’t help but mark me somehow.” 

He gets on his knees, darts his tongue out to swirl around your clit. His fingers prod your slick core and slide inside you, stroking your sensitive spot skillfully. The breathy noises he’s rewarded with are ones he’ll remember forever. 

It’s astonishing how quickly Haechan figures you out. 

He’s already in tune with your body, keenly aware of what makes you tick, knowing how to make you quiver and arch your back beautifully. 

Not before long, Haechan has you shaking uncontrollably, squeezing your eyes shut, your short stuttered breathing uneven and shallow as your orgasm peaks, and you topple into an abyss of intense pleasure. The lollipop falls out of your open mouth, rolling off the black table.

You might as well be outside, stargazing in the dead of night based on how many constellations and galaxies twinkle and swirl behind your fluttering eyelids. 

Haechan doesn’t let up on his efforts to overload your system with a tingly static sensation. Sobbing pathetically, you try to bat him away with what little strength you have, overstimulated and overcome with the sizzling heat frying your nerve endings. 

He huffs and retracts his hands, wiping his mouth and the mess of dripping juices on your inner thigh. 

“Okay, fine. I won’t touch you anymore!” he tosses his hands up in the air, melodramatic as ever.

“Finally,” you murmur, granted relief to catch your breath for the first time. 

You’re heavily panting, linking your fingers together and resting your hands atop your head to allow better airflow into your oxygen deprived lungs. He steps back and studies you like a unique specimen for medical observation. 

A few quiet moments pass before the dull cramps creep up inside you, not yet terribly painful but aching in a way that guarantees incoming sharp pains. You whimper for stimulation again, sending puppy dog eyes at Haechan. 

“More…please.”

The alpha’s face is painted with mischief, taunting you by reaching for your body then abruptly stepping back to watch you sniffle, and rock back and forth.

Upon noticing your eyes starting to well up with tears, he ultimately gives in. Haechan curls two and then three fingers inside you, opening you up for his throbbing cock. 

As much as he’d love to see you cry, he’s under strict instruction to satisfy and take care of you. He can’t threaten to not relieve the effects of your heat and tease you to the point of genuine distress.

“Aww, don’t cry, baby. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” 

You let out a breathy moan and make grabby motions to the tent in his pants. 

“Hm, does the cry baby want a knot?” You bite your bottom lip, nodding. “Yeah? Can you use your words? Or is there nothing going on up there in that pretty little head of yours?” 

He lightly taps your forehead twice, then slides that hand up to tangle in your hair.

You smile, shy and small,  and, dare he say, adorable. “You- you think I’m pretty?”

One side of the alpha’s mouth curls up, amused that “pretty” was the only word that you clung onto. He rolls his eyes, teasingly. 

“Of course you’re pretty, y/n.” Haechan removes his hand from your hair to take out his thick cock. “And only the prettiest of girls get this.”

With a newly unveiled salivating incentive, you immediately pull yourself together, spine straight as an arrow. 

You stare at his shiny, precum-glossy cock with heart eyes, licking your lips as he gives himself a few jerks and produces more pearly droplets from his slit. He pushes you back against the lab table when you try to get to your feet for a taste.

“You can choke on my cock later, princess. I thought you wanted a knot? Or did you change your mind?”

“No! I-I do want it,” you frantically reply.

“You sure?”

“Yes, I really want it, Haechan, really badly.” He raises an eyebrow, expecting more. “Please…please, knot me. I wanna be filled with your cum. I’m begging you…breed me, Alpha.”

Breed me, Alpha rings in Haechan’s ears like wedding bells signifying the everlasting bond of a committed partnership. Hearing your sweet voice desperately begging for his seed, using the dominant title you only ever use with Mark, your real alpha, gets Haechan rock hard. 

He savors every second he gets to be your alpha. 

Satisfied with your eloquently worded, pitiful plea, he lines himself up. His shiny cockhead glides through your folds before breaching your dripping entrance. 

“That’s what I thought, sweetheart,” the alpha whispers against your scent gland, his mouth sucking it softly.

 You gasp as he drives his hips forward, forcefully pushing against your tiny hole until you’ve accepted his blunt tip, and sucked his fat cock inside. 

Mark can smell you the second he drives on campus. He rolls his window down to take another alluring whiff, his right hand just barely gripping the bottom of the steering wheel while his left palms the bulge in his snug jeans, tenting obscenely. 

Mind preoccupied, his tunnel vision blinds him from focusing on a single thing besides seeking you out and filling you with loads of cum as soon as possible. He doesn’t recall pulling into the parking lot, getting out of his car, or locking it. All he knows is that, within the blink of an eye, he’s rushed across the campus, his feet landing just outside one of the science labs housed in the same building as your astronomy lecture.

Yanking the door wide open, his wild eyes dart to where his best friend’s knot is locked inside his omega, rubbing your clit so aggressively after your third orgasm that you’re reduced to a twitching mess. 

You don’t immediately recognize Mark’s presence, too lost in the intense buzzing sensation to even register that the alpha barged into the room.

Mark slams the door behind him and purposely leaves the door unlocked like Haechan did. There’s a certain reckless thrill that comes with the possibility of getting caught in a compromising position.

In contrast to the way he raced here, driving haphazardly and disobeying traffic laws, Mark slowly crosses the lab room towards your splayed body in a few, brisk strides. He removes his hard cock from his jeans with a lazy smile, stroking himself and licking his lips as you cry out.

Haechan flicks his chin up at Mark, greeting him happily. He makes a show out of pressing a slick-coated finger against your lips to silence you. 

“Sweetheart, you’ve gotta keep it down. You don’t want everyone next door to hear, right? They’d probably say ‘we should go check on whoever’s crying!’ Only to come in here and find their pretty classmate is a dumb little slut…with a cunt full of cum.” 

You whine, leading him to push two of his dirty fingers into your mouth to shut you up. His smirks as you mindlessly suck on them like a binkie, shutting your eyes and humming pleasantly. 

“She’s so pretty when she cries.”

“I know right?” 

Mark makes a growling noise in the back of his throat as he rubs his hand over where he can see the faint outline of Haechan’s thick knot buried inside you, making your abdomen bulge. Both you and Haechan shutter, feeling a tingly sensation from the pressure your boyfriend applies. 

“So, how’s she been?”

“Well, she-”

“Mar?” you weakly croak around Haechan’s fingers and he removes them.

“I’m here, y/n, I’m right here.” Mark wipes a lone tear of yours away and caresses your warm cheek. “How are you feeling, baby?” 

“I’m…hot.”

“No objection there,” Haechan jokes.

“Why did you send Haechan?” you continue like you didn’t hear the alpha currently plugging you up with cum.

“Oh, y/n. You remember how you were during your last heat.” Mark stops stroking his cock and takes out a tissue to dab away the sheen of sweat on your feverish forehead. 

“Actually, you were probably too far gone, huh?” 

You blink up at him, tilting your head into his hand when he tries to wipe your cheek. If you’re being honest with yourself, you only recall bits and pieces, and none of those memories are exceptionally vivid. 

“I didn’t know it was possible. Like, I looked it up and on average, omegas need to be knotted 5x before their heat breaks. But, y/n, seriously, I lost track of how many times I knotted you and it’s never enough. I couldn’t take care of you throughout all of your heat and it killed me to see you like that and not be able to help you more. You need more than I can give you, princess.” 

He offers you a small genuine smile, his hand trailing down to palm at your exposed breast. Mark gently rolls your nipple between his fingers, hearing you quietly purr. “So Haechan was nice enough to agree to help me help you.”

“But Mark-” 

“It’s for your own good, y/n,” Mark calmly tells you. “And didn’t Haechan make you feel nice?”

“Um, well, I-” 

You gulp, ruminating on how you want to answer, whether you should tell him that another alpha made you feel as amazing as Mark does.  

“Wanna tell me what it’s like to have his knot locked inside that tight little pussy of yours? I know you love being full of my cum. What about his cum? I bet you looove getting fucked full of his cum too, huh?”

“Y-yeah, I love being full of cum…your cum and-and Haechan’s cum.”

Mark smiles at your response and rewards you by pinching your perky nipple. “That’s what I like to hear, baby.”

You whine when Haechan wiggles his mostly deflated cock out of your tight core. “You really weren't lying when you said she gets super wet.”

“Hm, let me feel.” He hums, looking closer and dipping his fingers inside the dripping combination of your fluids. 

Mark widens his nostrils and takes in the aroma of Haechan’s cum mixed in with your juices, his eyes flashing blood red. 

It’s unfamiliar and vaguely off putting to smell his mate has been violated and fucked open by another alpha. Although, overall, the dominant sensation coursing through Mark is arousal, turned on by the thought of sharing your body. 

“Nah, man. It gets worse, you’ll see. Her heat hasn’t even peaked yet.”

Mark addresses Haechan like you aren’t even here. To be fair though, during your heat you’re not all here anyways. 

“W-worse?” you eke.

“By the end of her last heat, she had so much fucking cum in her, I don’t know where it was all going.”

 “Ha, we got ourselves a little cum dumpster here,” Haechan snickers, sliding his fingers inside your cum dribbling cunt again.

With such an overflowing amount of slick and cum, if someone told you that the obscene squelching that fills the room is a soundbite from some high quality pornography, you wouldn’t doubt it. You croon as he curls them up just right, taking a moment to stimulate your most sensitive spot skillfully. 

He retracts them sooner than you’d prefer and brings his fingers to your mouth. “Suck.” 

A fat droplet falls on your bottom lip. 

Mark rubs slow, comforting circles over your abdomen. “Go ahead, baby,” he encourages, leaning down to suckle on your neglected bud. 

Earning Mark’s blessing, you obediently suck your own berry wetness and Haechan’s cum off of the alpha’s fingers.

“God, what a filthy slut,” he says once you’ve fulfilled his wish. “She gives in so easily, she’d do anything to get another load of cum.” 

A weak sound of protest weasels up the back of your throat, disagreeing with the term he used to describe you. You expect Mark to disagree with his best friend’s crude statement, but he shockingly does the opposite.

“Tell me about it, dude. The whole time she’s always begging for a knot and more cum. I know a lot of omegas beg in the middle of their heat…” 

Mark pets your head gently for a second, then snakes his fingers into your hair, giving it a brief yank. 

If you weren’t on the precipice of your heat hitting full force, his sudden action would’ve caused you a decent amount of pain. But by now, your aching body welcomes any form of touch – the rougher the better. The demeaning terms trigger strobing excitement inside you.

“…but with y/n, it’s like where did my sweet omega go? Who’s this needy cumslut?” 

Your bottom lip quivers, internally conflicted by your budding arousal. Mark looks down at you with pity in his eyes.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, “don’t look at me like that. I’m not saying it to be mean, I’m just telling the truth. You don’t know what it’s like trying to take care of you.”

You whine softly, your foggy emotional state making you feel guilty, even if the fraction of you that’s still of sober mind knows that you have nothing to feel guilty for. The seeds of insecurity take root in your head, questioning if he secretly resents being with you, if you’re too much of a burden that he wishes he wasn’t your alpha.

Mark reads the emotional turmoil brewing on your precious face. In an effort to soothe the distress, he quickly leans over to kiss it away. A handful of adoring pecks down your face, lips lightly kissing your forehead twice, the tip of your nose and finally to your lips. He is much gentler now than the hand responsible for the arousing sting to your scalp. Mark tastes the other alpha on your mouth and grins anyway.

“I don’t want you to feel bad about it, y/n.” He again brushes a few stray tears away from where they spill from the corners of your wide, glossy eyes. “I just wanna make sure you’re well taken care of this time.”

“Even without you, I can take care of myself well enough,” you sniffle, lying through your teeth, fooling no one, not even yourself. 

Your hand twitches, wanting to prove a point but hesitating because you're not used to being watched by two sets of eyes. 

“Go ahead and touch yourself, princess. I know you want to,” Mark tells you.

“R-really? Like, um…” You swallow the lump in your throat. “...in front of him too?” 

You sneak a glance at Haechan, who, by the looks of it, is about ready to unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole any second now. You vaguely remember wanting him to do so not too long ago in your most fuzzy heated state.

“Yes, in front of me and Haechan.” 

“Aw, sweetheart. I just fucked your pretty cunt and yet you still feel embarrassed?” Haechan pouts in mock sympathy. “That’s adorable.”

Mark exchanges a look with his best friend before turning back to you. “Be a good girl for me and demonstrate how you used to do it before we met. You can do that, right, babe?” 

An adoring smile reaches his lips, eyes locking with yours. You could try to deny the lewd act, but above all else, you want to please your alpha. 

Mark wants you to be a good girl, and that is exactly what you will be. You gulp, releasing a shaky sigh, and nodding timidly. Your mouth twitches up to mirror his sincere smile as best as you can manage.

“That’s my girl,” Mark beams.

Mark knows how to comfort you, pushing two fingers into your mouth to give you something to wrap your lips around. He gently cups the back of your hand and guides it lower while you’re pleasantly suckling.  

You tilt back, propping your upper body up by extending your left hand behind your back. Folding your spread legs up and planting your heals on the edge of the wide black lab table, exposing your throbbing cunt to the alphas. 

You trace your fingers through your folds, rimming your freshly used entrance before sliding two of them inside, moaning around Mark’s fingers as you follow his instructions. 

Muscle memory of touching yourself on a frequent basis over the years takes charge, and within seconds, you locate your weak spot. 

“There you go. Good girl.”

You mewl, your legs trembling every so often as you draw your fingers up to stimulate your clit. The muscles in your face are equally as prone to a visceral jumpy reaction as your lower half is. 

Craving more, you lay your upper body back against the table, and switch hands to curl your left fingers in your abused pussy and rub quick circles over the hood of your clit, stroking up and down to stimulate every nerve around the electrifying spot. 

“M-mar…” you whimper, drool trailing from your stuffed mouth. “Fuck-fuck me. Please, I n-need your cum now.”

Mark bestows a gentle kiss to the side of your neck. “How about you show me how bad you want it, eh?”

You hop off the table and lower to your knees obediently, folding your legs underneath you and sitting back on your feet, hands placed flat on your thighs, spine arched to show the round curve of your ass.

Haechan whistles. “You sure did train her well.”

“Nah, man. y/n didn’t need training. She’s just a perfect omega.” Mark smiles, happy to show you off. He pets your head as you start to squirm and quietly whimper. 

“Open your mouth, baby.” 

You part your lips, holding your tongue out to catch the spit that falls from Mark’s mouth. He hums, approvingly, watching you swallow it and open your mouth again. He pauses for a second before flicking his chin at Haechan. 

“You want Haechan’s spit too?”

You glance at Haechan and release an affirmative noise a second later. Your core aches for further rough filling again. You rub your slippery thighs together, feeling more slick gush from your throbbing pussy, increasingly aroused when Haechan steps up to the plate. 

He lets a string of saliva dangle from his tongue, slowly dripping into your mouth, and partially dribbling down your chin intentionally, simply because he wants to make a mess of your pretty face.

You're about to wrap your lips around Mark’s cockhead when all of a sudden, the sharpest pain stabs your abdomen. Your jaw drops in a silent scream, crumpling into a ball, squeezing your eyes shut, and nearly blacking out. 

Mark kneels down and rubs your shoulder, lifting your head to look you square in the face. Worry colors his sharp features and shatters the heated, public pornographic fantasy. 

“Shit. y/n’s cramps usually subside for an hour or so after getting a knot,” he mutters to Haechan. “I didn’t want to do this…but I don’t think we have much of a choice now…”

[hint for pt 2]

additional warnings: dr jaem thorough exam, double penetration, spitroasting, oral (fem & male), face sitting, throat fucking, choking, somnophilia, squirting, sex toys, nipple play and breast milking. alright, i think that's it.

it’s 2023.

why did it take me this fucking long to write markhyuck x yn ?? i said i’d write for this pairing in FEB 20 FUCKING 21.

sorry for not posting in forever. the #1 motivation for writers is feedback and interaction. for me, knowing people enjoy my works and appreciate the time i put into something has a huge impact. i'd be really grateful if you shared this by giving it a reblog and would love to see you spam your thoughts/reactions in the tags or comments!

[oct 12th, 2024 update]

pt 2 is about 80% done. now, i'm not saying i WON'T post it in the next week, but comments, reblogs and feedback would definitely inspire me to finish it up soon<3

okay 'tis all. thank you for reading and i hope you (yes, specifically YOU, beloved reader of mine who's reading this RIGHT NOW !) are doing well:))

stream 127's *FACT CHECK*

➾my masterlist

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[wolkoshka]

Paranormal II

summary: after your injury in the birthday party, Ghost takes you home, takes care of your wound - and finally gives you a night you’ll never forget… Simon Riley/Ghost x Reader

warnings: slow-burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, mutual pining, excessive drunk flirting, slightly dark!Simon, touch-starved Simon, trying to get into Simon’s pants (and sort of succeeding??), nsfw-themed

•this is a simon riley ficlet, I repeat, this is not a one-shot but contains a bit of plot and character development, bcs god knows we need 'em

•part 2/3

an: here is part ii, and yes, yes, I know! It’s long overdue. You’re gonna have to forgive a girlie and her lack of awareness to the passage of time.

"I said go get him, not split yer head open. Ooch, lassie, look at ye bruising up. That's an ugly one."

Johnny hassled over you, thumbing your temples as he examined your wound.

Ghost had temporarily dropped you at the bar to go hunting for a med kit. When your gaze had arrayed the room, your best friend had caught your eye, smirking - only to then gasp and push his way to you.

"So what happened?"

"Mating dance," you retorted dryly.

You pressed the glove back to the wound when Johnny released you, leaning against the counter in a snort.

"Did he fall for it?"

"Hardly." Your shoulders slumped defeatedly. "I don't think he likes me very much, Johnny."

"That's Lt for ye, lass. Guy wears a skull for a face. Says he sleeps soundly in it. Shudders, I tell ye. You'd think that'd make ye think twice before approaching him, eh?"

"I think my brain short-circuited precisely for those reasons. I think maybe this hit to the head will remedy that. God knows I need to get him out of my system. A full-on purge. Like those, uh, uh, really intense only-water-for-dinner kind of diets."

"It's hard to get someone ye don't know out of yer mind."

"Exactly! Jokes aside, this is insane even by drunk me standards. Never thought I'd have a crush at this age, but, whelp, here goes nothing! Will get him out of my mind as soon as I stop gawking at those muscles, okay?"

Your friend chuckled.

Over Soap's shoulder, you caught sight of Ghost's form paving way to you, broad shoulders squared, back straight and gait commanding. And yet, there was an almost endearing swagger to his stride, subtle as it was, and it only added to the unmistakable confidence simmering underneath that quiet outfit.

Suddenly, you were air-headed. In the manner people jumped out of his path like he was the most lethal being they'd ever beheld had you seeing rainbows and hearing angelic hymns.

A stupid girl with her big, stupid crush. When was the last time you got one, anyway? High school, that's when. And you felt like a silly schoolgirl again, all those eighth grade magazines on how to talk to boys and attract your crush flooding back.

You wondered what three-way advice they would spell out for someone like Ghost.

Bathe in the blood of his enemies. A sexy look can go a long way!

Rip out the heart of his enemy and gift it to him. All men enjoy a sincere show of affection every now and then!

Take a bullet for him. Take several! Nothing says I have the hots for you like bleeding out in the arms of your crush!

When his eyes found yours, uncompromising and intense even from such distance, the choir increased until you felt like your chest might implode.

"Never mind," you dreamily sighed. This particular crush wasn't leaving anytime soon.

"Johnny," Ghost voiced, coming around the man. To you, he crooked a finger. "They got band-aids, but I need to stitch you up. We'll resolve the matter in your place."

Your head perked. "We will?"

Was your night actually going to end with Ghost in your apartment? Maybe even bed?

You looked at Johnny, Johnny looked at you - and you both raised your eyebrows in a knowing look.

"What the bloody hell you two peepin' at each other for?" Ghost growled.

"Peepin'? What's peepin'?" Johnny.

"We're not peepin'." You.

Eager, you hopped down - and immediately regretted it when your vision swayed. Whoops... You clutched your head tighter.

"Easy there," Johnny voiced, hands supporting your shoulders.

Once you righted, you looked up at Ghost. Expectant. Would he carry you?

You kind of, sort of, definitely desired his arms around you again.

As if seeing right through your needs, the muscle below his eye twitched. He set a challenge with his gaze, forcing you to admit defeat and walk a soldier's walk.

You faintly winced. Shrugged. "Owh, my poor head. I feel...dizzy. So dizzy. Don't know...might even trip in the rain. Get a concussion..." Another meek yet daring shrug. "So inconvenient, no?"

"Maybe ye need to go the hospital, lass - Umpf!"

You shut Johnny up with a backward punch to the groin, attention never wavering from Ghost.

There was a soft inquisitive sound, an arch of your brow, before he conceded with a weary blink of his eyes. You had to love the way his lashes fanned every time he did that. Long, thick, and softly curled, they might just make a girl jealous.

Internally, you performed a victory dance. Externally, you outstretched an arm.

His killer biceps bulged around your frame, tugging you close, as he lifted you off your feet. When you corded your arm around his neck and nestled your face on his pec, lashes batting up at him, Ghost looked like he was near to dropping you on your arse and dragging you by your heels instead.

"Don't get used to it, poppy," he grated low.

You wore a look of mock-surprise. "Never."

Gaze too slow to leave your face he spoke to Johnny next, "I'll meet you at the base." He strode past, strong legs falling into pace. "Don't be late. And for fuck's sake, Johnny, get some rest."

Johnny grinned, the act slightly laced with pain due to your earlier assault. "Ye got it, Lt." To you, he gave you a proud thumb's up.

Over Ghost's shoulder, you blew him a kiss and mouthed happy birthday, and I love you big time, you sucker.

When the bar door closed behind you, you pointed out to Simon that he'd forgotten your umbrella and proton pack.

For the umbrella, he said the rain might help sober you up. As for your proton pack, he didn't even bother providing an answer as he took down the street, all pleased with himself as rain mercilessly pelted your face.

When lightning crackled and thunder roared overhead, you thought you felt his arms slightly draw you closer, a bit nearer, but dismissed it, blaming it instead on your active imagination and stupor.

.

What the bloody hell was he doing, Ghost questioned, standing in your open kitchen and preparing tea for two.

Steam curdled up, obscuring his masked face as he poured green tea into two cups. Clasping the handles, he turned from the counter to place them on the marbled island.

Your abode was a spacious loft with four large windows peering out into the bustling city, the London Eye and the River Thames a distant view, with a ceiling that rose six meters high.

Before him was a sitting area with a comfortable couch, plush armchairs and a TV stand. Fully-stacked bookshelves flanked either side while pots of myriad flowers and wild ferns decorated the space.

A dining table perched to his left, a family photo and Mesopotamian antiques lining the dark cherry wood surface in display. He spotted Johnny in the frame, younger than he's ever seen him, dimples deep in a cheery smile, and he spotted you, hanging onto his shoulders with an eye-crinkling laugh of your own, also young and exuding innocence.

To his far right was your bed, propped against the wall and neatly made, accompanied by nightstands and a reading lamp. To its left was the entrance, separated by a narrow wall of stained glass depicting two mermaids frolicking about. By that, he clearly meant the large cock sprouting from the merman's groin and gripped by the mermaid's slender fingers, their tails entwining as deeply as their tongues, their bodies writhing in unabashed pleasure. It was beautiful, no doubt, made to come alive in colors coral blue, golden, and violet, but Ghost also knew it was custom made.

Anyone would've missed the unorthodox tableau at first glance, but he wasn't anyone.

You had wild fantasies, it appeared, and he wanted to bash his skull in for taking interest in that.

Just like he wanted to bash the mug of green tea in his hand because he couldn't will his feet to walk away.

Granted, you'd asked he stay, at least for a little while, to thank him for taking care of your wound, and sprinting to your bathroom thereafter for a quick shower.

It's been ten minutes now, and Ghost should've been long gone. He couldn't be here. He didn't do one-night stands. He had a number for that, a special visitor, that took care of his needs without him ever needing to undress. Left just as wordlessly when the deed was done. No unnecessary pillow talks, goodbye notes, or call me laters. No strings attached, just as Ghost preferred it.

But you...

The way you wanted him, the way you watched him, eyes growing dark and heavy with desire, it made him realize he'd never been pursued that ardently. Sure, he had instances where he attracted certain women his direction - any bloke with a look like his warranted that - but a simple glower from him had them scurrying off just as quick.

He should be scaring you off too, not exciting you.

Not making you out to be an intoxication he was uncharacteristically impatient to divulge in.

Hell, with his given background and formidable expertise, no one even dared to hold his gaze for longer than three seconds. When he talked, everyone shut up. His reputation preceded him. Yet you... Bloody hell, you not only held your ground, but also eye-fucked him every chance you got.

Ghost didn't quite compute; you were a perfect stranger to him, someone he met but once, and yet you had a face that could make a man happily dream into an early death.

God, there was something about you that made his palms itch for a touch...itch to wrap that hair of yours around his fist, lift his mask, and descend for a proper feeding. A sick, twisted part of Ghost perhaps wanted to see how good you could get him to pillow talk.

It was a passing thought, but chills abraded his forearms. The challenge in it gave him a heated rush of red.

What the hell was the matter with him? he questioned for the umpteenth time.

He shouldn't be wanting such nonsense.

He shouldn't be caring for it either.

He should walk away now. But...

The moment he chose to act, turning, the exit his target, the shower stopped running. The naked pad of footsteps resounded. A towel flapped open. More footsteps, and then -

You emerged from the bathroom, all robed and clean, leaving steam in your wake. It looked like you'd just walked out of a dream, cherub cheeks flushed pink and skin dewy, almost satiny, and - fuck. He internally groaned. He wanted to bite.

What in nine hells? He popped his jaw in frustration.

Upon spotting him, excitement flashed in your eyes, and you nearly skipped over.

"You stayed," you breathily commented, the towel you were using to dry your hair tossed atop the dining table. Traces of vanilla and coconut saturated the air, infiltrating his mask, and his mouth involuntarily watered.

He needed to call that special number tonight, he decreed, or else he wouldn't survive the coming days. Days? More like hour. Keep it together, soldier.

Such unpalatable delight seeped from you, he slowly shook his head.

If only you knew he sewed another man's skull on his mask, beaten to a pulp before stripped clean of all tissue. A constant reminder of what he’d lost. Who he'd lost. If only you knew he viewed the outside world from the eyes of a dead man. If only you knew poison swam in his veins, immortalizing the infectious ichor that damned any soul to near him. Touch him. You would flee the other direction.

You would curse at him, curse him, see him for what he truly was.

A rotting corpse unleashed to the world to haunt. To terrorize.

Would you crave him then, knowing those very hands you wanted wrapped around you had ended lives, and most not so humanely?

He wasn't capable of holding you without hurting you.

Anything good and decent in him had long ago been buried away, and in their stead festered rancid tendencies that worked his mind and body tireless.

Nothing survived him, and you would be no different.

Even tonight, his somber mood a result of the death toll that ripped through his heart, deadened as it was, when he heard - witnessed - the scream of little children blown to pieces by a human bomber he was meant to stop, was no coincidence.

His main objective was to retrieve classified documents, but it had come at a cost when the enemy understood they were compromised.

He had done a bloody good job clearing the entire building, knives soaked crimson, fists even more so, but he'd forgone the basement, a bunker where bombers kept their own hostage. It was a gruesome tactic the enemy utilized to throw their foes off balance. He had a moment's decision before the bomber pressed the button - shoot him with the off-chance of saving the children, get obliterated to pieces and fail the mission, or succeed.

It was either them or the classified intel. He’d ducked for cover.

Choices have consequences, he remembered telling Johnny once, and, fuck, if he didn't hate himself for his.

He tasted the sulfur, the clogging dust saturated with human remains, in the back of his throat. He couldn't wipe those deaths from his eyes no matter how many times he bathed, scrubbed, scraped.

So, no matter you being a perfect stranger, feeding him look upon look of insatiable hunger any man would gladly sacrifice a limb for, he couldn't go down that road.

Especially when you meant so much to Johnny, his brother-in-arms, a man with a heart of gold that reminded Simon of his own. He couldn't do that to him, to you. Christ, he couldn't walk through fire again.

He wouldn't survive it.

And - bollocks, he nearly chuckled - he never sounded more miserable. It didn't matter. He'd be dodging a bullet with you, all right. All his physical needs, he could deal with them like a grown man in the confines of his own four walls.

Besides, he was a goddamn mess tonight, his feelings and thoughts blown asunder. He hadn't slept for seventy-two hours and was in desperate need of some shut-eye.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost," your lilting voice broke through his thoughts. He blinked down at you. You shrugged, a small smile forming. "Funny how that works, don't you think?"

Maybe he should give you a taste of what it meant to know Simon Riley. Maybe then, and only then, would you understand the favor he'd been extending you.

Silently, he pushed the steaming cup of green tea your way.

A soft gasp. "A man after my own heart." Your fingers came around the mug, hugging it close to your chest and taking a cautious sip. "Mmm. Just what I needed."

"You feelin' better?" Christ, he might as well have spat out shards of glass with how rough he'd sounded.

You licked your lips, pink tongue darting out. "Yeah. Much," you whispered. "Thanks."

Your lips enclosed around the rim again, plump, red and eager. Red as poppies. He imagined them closing around something else, something harder, hotter, sweetened by your spit.

His muscles stiffened, the itch flaming his palms. Palms he then curled into tight fists - before releasing.

He unsuccessfully cleared his throat. "Right, then, you get that rest, poppy."

He turned on his heel, the exit never appearing more distant as he marched to it. At the end of the island, he'd left the box of med kit and his glove, and he reached for the latter as he bypassed.

A blur of white and he was staring down at your delicate features again.

"Wait, wait, you can't just leave. And you definitely can't take this." You snatched the glove from his grasp and quickly hid it behind your back. You pursed your lips at his quiet glower. "Because I'll, uh, wash it for you. More polite that way."

Bollocks. You meant to keep what was his, you wily little thing. He could easily wrestle it out of your hands, but he didn't want to give you more incentive to put your hands on him. Or, worse yet, his on you.

"You got somethin' you wanna say?" he roughed out.

"Only that I want to thank you. Properly."

"Properly thanked. Now out of my way."

He meant to sidestep but you halted him with a soft, warm palm on his chest. His heart, for the briefest second, quickened at the gesture. Didn't need incentive at all, it seemed.

You struggled for purchase. "Well - Well, what about your tea?"

"I'll live, poppy."

Another step, another pressing of your hand against his body. More adamantly this time.

Bloody hell, such a tiny thing, you were, but he'd never encountered a bigger hindrance. Especially when he was oh, so close to the exit. He was positive you were going to lock your door and swallow the key if he did not indulge you a moment's courtesy.

His abrasive exhale of defeat finally brought your palm down from his chest, and he - what? Wanted to beat your white-bricked walls in at the loss of contact? Absolutely not - couldn't have felt better.

His lids dropped, and his look of defiance rivaled yours. For a second too intense for his liking, both of you were stuck in a battle of wills.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Four se -

Christ. That pulled a reaction from him, primal and almost aggressive. The kind that had the blood in his veins rushing hot and wild.

His low, grumbling voice, a contrast to the sudden, violent need unfurling in his lower abdomen, vibrated the still air between you.

"Properly thank me how?"

Of all the answers he could've expected, with how your teeth worried your lower lip, nibbling at the fleshly petal, or how your lashes fluttered, somehow nervous, or even with how your cheeks dusted pink in evident arousal, that is, a meek, "Biscuits?" was definitely not it.

His head jerked back, a frown creasing his forehead. "Biscuits?"

He fuckin' loved biscuits.

"Yes. With tea?"

Hell, he loved that more.

He let your words sit for a while. Then, "You got any ginger nuts there, poppy?"

A bashful smile revealed a row of straight, white teeth. He wanted to scrape his own against them, his tongue coaxing in to steal a little taste of you. At the heady image, he tensed.

Growled.

You swallowed. "You don't have to be so angry about it. I've got them. Come on, then, I'll share my favorites with you."

In under five minutes, you had the Ghost sprawled atop your bed goddamn picnicking with a plate of biscuits and a mug of tea in hand.

Having made away with his leather jacket, he leaned back into a heap of pillows you'd placed for him, and - oh, that felt good - his muscles hissed in pleasure at having finally relaxed.

He grunted, his lids threatening to drift shut. Your bed was warm, soft, and smelled of wild lilacs - all qualities Ghost was estranged to in the field, which happened to dominate the better part of his life.

"You'll love this," you said from your spot next to him. He'd momentarily slacked off, and your voice brought him back from the abating garden of flowers he was surrendering himself to.

He breathed in deep, pulling focus.

Having dimmed the lights to your loft, you wiggled to a comfortable position and succumbed to your own nest of pillows.

You smelled like a peachy sunset over a beach of glistening sands, and if he touched you, you'd feel even better.

And now he was turning into a bloody poet.

If 141 ever saw him like this, Ghost would never live it down.

He balanced his plate of biscuits and mug of tea on his lap, but when you pressed your shoulder to his, he nearly spilled the hot liquid over his pants.

It also chased the sleep from his burning lids, and, quietly, he suffered your presence.

His body seared where you touched him, but he made no show of it.

You outstretched your lithe legs, soft and enticing, over the bed, and crossed them at the ankles. At the movement, your white robe parted in the seams, revealing the supple flesh of your thigh, but you made no move to cover it. You simply lay there, still delectable with a kind of sweetness Ghost wanted to languidly lap at with his tongue.

So much so that the muscle now ached in his mouth.

He swore under his breath, his own legs shifting to distance his body from you. His booted feet, he dangled at the edge of the bed. He wasn't that barbaric.

"I thought you were the patient one," you chided, misreading his mood. In your fingers, you clutched some kind of a remote. It possessed two buttons. "Watch this."

You pressed the green one.

A soft whine reverberated from above, and then a portion of the sloped ceiling slid up to, inch by inch, reveal the thundering clouds in the sky.

Not many things had the power to surprise Ghost, but this... Well, suffice it to say, his jaw slightly slacked open.

Rain dazedly pelted the glassed frame, the droplets snaking down in rivulets, and distant strikes of lightning illuminated the cloudy world above, and in consequence, the dark room.

You dreamily sighed, sinking further into your pillows. You reached for the biscuits on his thighs.

Simon hadn't realized he'd placed them too close to his groin, and thought you went in for a different feeding, body abruptly tensing.

The faintest drop of your hand's weight on him had his throat contracting.

Subtly, he had the plate relocated to his abdomen. Much better.

"I had it installed when I moved in. It helps me sleep better at night. Oh, especially in such nights." You hummed out a chuckle and pointed. "Look at that cloud. Kind of looks like the head of a chihuahua, don't you think?"

Lightning crackled. The sky brightened in hues murky gray and electric blue - before plummeting into darkness.

He followed your finger, and released a contemplative sound. It was all he offered, but it seemed to be enough for you.

There was something about the sound of rain and your soft breathing that had Simon lulled to a cozy quiet. Snugged by the pillows, his weight sank deeper into the mattress, and he thought he was in a haven of your making.

This could put him dead out if it weren't for the tempting graze of your shoulder against his, forcing him awake ever time his lashes sluggishly fluttered shut.

You sipped your tea and reached for another biscuit.

Slowly, he lifted his own mask 'til his nose and watched, warily, if you'd sneak a peek. You did no such thing.

Ignoring the twitch in his brows, he bit into the biscuits. The tea smoothed them down his throat, and the warm nourishment felt good in his stomach.

All the while, you talked about your sweets and pastries, the corner shop you bought them from, and how it was your favorite with it having opened almost eighty years ago. And how he also should visit it once he gets the chance.

You finished your tea and placed the mug on your side of the nightstand. Brushing the crumbs from your fingers, you plopped back down, head on your pillows this time.

You still did not look at him.

Sober you seemed to have a few bit reservations than wasted you, it appeared, faintest traces of amusement pulling at the corners of his revealed lips.

Downing the rest of his tea, he put away the empty plate and mug to his side of the nightstand. With that, he masked his lips anew.

In the silence, the only sound the pouring rain, he dwelled in the dark with you.

Then, so softly, you said his name.

"Simon."

His breath hitched dead center in his chest. His eyes arrowed down at your lying figure.

You continued to look away, spiky lashes fanning delicate cheekbones.

"You can stay the night, if you want," you made out, swallowing tentatively and moistening your lips. With a tiny jump, you turned over - and finally tilted your face up to look him in the eyes. You cupped the underside of your cheek. "We don't have to do anything. Not that you - Not that you said you wanted to. I'm sorry. I only mean, it's late...and you must be tired." Then, oh, so gently, "Heard you had a long night, too."

Ghost remained silent for the duration of your speech, and at the last sentence, quirked a brow up. "Yeah? And who told you that?"

"Johnny," you murmured.

"Johnny," he echoed. A low crackling sound sizzled in his chest, but it dwindled out before ever reaching his throat. "You discuss me with Johnny, do ya now, poppy?"

Your eyes dropped from his masked face, and your fingers drew small circles into the pillow next to his.

"Sometimes, I do, yes." So effortlessly admitted. Fuck. "It was merely an evaluation of your person, is all. I could see it too. Your eyes are red. Bit groggy too."

He rasped out a low chuckle, if it could be called that, seeing as some sounds tended to get lost in the wide expanse of his chest. "That it, eh?"

A small smile crinkled the corner of your eye, and if he had a heart, he might've gone as far as to call you a darling right then and there.

You shrugged. "Yeah."

He ran the tip of his tongue against his teeth. Simon knew it was best he end the conversation now, rise from your bed, and exit your apartment. Your life. He got his proper thanks, after all.

But, like a damned fool he could only blame on his exhausted state, he stayed put - and probed further. "What else you bothered Johnny about me, mm?"

You licked your lips again, the tip of that tempestuous pink muscle wetting the seam, and he bit back a wanting grunt.

He'd never been more arrested by a mundane act.

Focus, soldier.

His eyes trailed the gentle curve of your jawline...and down your slender neck.

No, not there, you daft geezer. Away.

"Your mask," your tentative voice filled the room.

"What's wrong with it?"

Your soft hair rustled against the sheets as you shook your head. "Nothing. It's merely got something honest about it, is all. As paradoxical as that may seem, I realize now. It's pleasant."

Pleasant? That's a new one.

But he couldn't have you building false notions about him like that. Maybe it was time he warned you away for good.

"I have more blood on my hands than the one running in your veins, poppy. There is nothing honest about me," he coldly provided.

"Well, I think you're wrong."

Bloody hell, what would it take to dislodge you?

You moved, body climbing up the pillows until your head rested close to his shoulder. And then a little bit more, until you leveled with his face.

The sheer heat emanating from your skin traveled past his clothes, seeping into his pores.

Yeah, you were a darlin', all right. A damn appetizing one, at that.

You shifted slightly, weight on your left hip and bared legs so dangerously close to his.

Through the thick rim of your lashes, you regarded him. "Ghost," you said, and he nearly corrected you. "Would you like to know what else I discuss with Johnny?"

A burning sensation infiltrated his cheek, and he realized you were tracing your fingertips over his masked features. Carefully, cautiously, so as to not chase him away.

"For one, those pretty eyes of yours," you hummed lowly. On cue, you gently trailed a finger down his brow bone.

Heat speared his cheeks at that, and he was grateful for the coverage. Simon Riley, blushing. His lashes fluttered a bit, but other than that, you remained clueless as to his expression.

"And they change color every time I look upon you. Sometimes blue, sometimes silver, other times brown, like sweet caramel, and my favorite, pitch black. How do you do that?"

You studied him enough to have a favorite? At that revelation, his throat tightened.

Wordless, he performed a small, almost undiscernible, shrug, the pillows underneath shifting.

A slow, deep smile curved your cheeks. "You should let me study them in broad daylight. I'm sure I'll solve the mystery in no time." With a cheeky air, you booped the tip of his nose with your finger.

Quietly, he watched your face, coal-dark eyes intent and focused, the only sounds from him his steady breathing.

"God, they're so black." Tenderly, you ran your knuckles across his jawline, angled your head, and then softly guided his face closer to yours.

Once, someone had told him he had no present, past, or future, and he'd told them that he'd see them in hell. Now, Ghost realized hell was here, in the breath of a space between you, where you sat so close to him, and yet he could not close it.

"None of that, poppy." He nudged your hold off.

Disappointment colored your eyes, drooped your shoulders, and brought those pearl-white teeth to gnaw at your fleshly lower lip. And with so much bite, he spotted teeth marks form.

"Easy there," he murmured, fingers acting without his explicit permission and pinching your chin.

At that, the discouragement washed away and your eyes clouded with something dark and promising, putting the storm outside to shame. There you went again with that look. If his career in the Special Forces hadn't driven him mad, this surely would.

Understanding that he shouldn't have touched you, he made to move away, but your fingers wrapped around his wrist, keeping him close - and sliding your body closer.

The second your hip meshed against his, his muscles seized up, locking tight upon his bones.

God, you were hot against him. Burning up.

Simon nearly bolted from the bed when he felt your legs entangle with his, the blistering tension having unwittingly made away with much of his resolve and rendering him stimulated in places he'd rather not feel stimulated in.

Your toes teased his legs, rubbing up against the coarse material of his pants. Then, they glided over them, finding purchase in his inner calves - and massaging. Up, up, they traveled, then dooown they dropped, creating a spine-tingling friction.

Ghost grunted, shoulders bunching before undulating. He straightened a bit. Good God. He was suddenly too aware of his own body heating up and all his intimate areas. All too aware of his blood pumping and where it was rushing.

"You better stop that before you get hurt, yeah, darlin'?" he grated past his teeth.

You sighed, no doubt relishing in his deteriorating strength. "A little pain never hurt nobody. Isn't that right, Lieutenant?"

As you said that, you wedged your leg more firmly between his, parting them, and slid your knee upward to lightly grind it against his sensitive groin.

Christ. He grunted with less control now, the feeling slowly slipping through his fingers.

You shouldn't be using that kind of language with him. Shouldn't be talking in such a tone. Because addiction was another sin he didn't mind adding to the list.

His body sweltered from the inside and his heartbeat increased, beating in his ears. He had to leave.

Jerking slightly at another shiver inducing motion, he pushed at your leg.

A final, "No, poppy," scraped past his throat.

"Simon," you tugged at his wrist, voice hoarsely breaking at the end and so desperately, it nearly unmanned him, "I - I'm on fire. It hurts. It hurts so bad. Need... I need you. I can't stop. I don't know why I can't stop. I just - God, I've been needing you for so long now. Every night, I dream of you, do you know that? Every night. Please, please...I'm going insane. I'm - "

That did it.

With a ferocious snarl that was more animal than man, his arm shot forward, calloused fingers latching onto your cheeks and unchivalrously burying your head in your pillows with the abrupt maneuver of his body over yours.

His weight suffocated you into the mattress.

You gasped, eyes gaping wide in alarm.

His ire flared, his desire, even more so.

"Shut the fuck up," Ghost gritted in your face, now panting hot and fast. "Shut your fuckin' mouth now, poppy. Fuck. You ever heed a warning? You ever heard of using your own goddamn fingers? You ever use that pretty little head of yours? Bloody fucking hell, darlin'. Bloody. Fucking. Hell."

You squirmed under him, releasing small, breathless sounds.

The image of you rendered so helpless roused the most primal parts of him and his cock painfully hardened, straining against the strap of his pants.

It was blooming into an ache his hands alone wouldn't be able to assuage. Goddamit.

Your eyes searched his, arraying back and forth, attempting to grasp what just occurred within the span of a blink.

Then, they narrowed, pretty lashes fusing. "I have," you ground out, baring your teeth at him. "I do. But they're never enough." Fuck, you were talking about your fingers. You almost pouted insufferably. "Never what I want. Need. Crave."

"And I am?" he growled out, baring his own teeth. You seemed to like the intensity he exuded, even heatedly roamed your eyes over his masked lips, expression devoid of all fear.

You nodded eagerly.

Yes.

He cursed under his breath.

Lowly, lethally, "How hard did you hit that head of yours, mm?"

You bit your lips to suppress a moan, "Hard enough to get you in my bed."

"That mouth of yours is goin' to get you in trouble, poppy."

You keened at the warning. "Promise?"

At that, he couldn't will himself away even if he wanted to. Not even all the soldiers in his team combined could drag him away when you stared up at him so wantonly, so desperately, silently begging to make away with the terrible ache that shadowed over your every need.

So be it. You would learn your lesson.

"Open your legs," he growled - and slipped his hand underneath your robe.

an: i made it into 3 parts bcs, well, i just had too much fun writing ghost suffering in his self-imposed ✨ agonies ✨

suffice it to say, the next part will be pure filth. pinkie swear this time. strap your seatbelts, girlies, we’re going to the horniest, dirtiest bangtown.

on another note, if anyone is willing to chat/discuss fics relating to cod or any other fandom of their liking, I’ve created a new discord server and pinned it on my blog; all are more than welcome to join ✨

[liloinkoink]

doomsday dnd au posts pt 2: plot this time

this au's a collab effort between me, maruu @xmaruu11, chris @chrisrin, cj @cjskribblez, and smurg @smurgle !! it draws on our life games, woven life and sands of life, as well as the ctm map we completed, divinity's end

this whole summary is just for the AU setup. its just like. prologue. uh. tho im putting it under a cut bc it's very long

if you havent seen the post with the characters and designs, check that out here

Ellery, Iscariot, Syyrin, and Flint are all members of a cult following Myrkul, living at a temple founded and run by Ellery and Syyrin. the cult is fairly passive and respectful of death, but is slowly being invaded by worships of Cyric, a traitorous and power-hungry god of traitorous and power-hungry followers.

[full disclosure for my readers who know dnd: while myrkul and cyric do come from canon sources, we did not stick that closely to the actual dnd canon and sorta half winged it. forgive us for our inconsistencies]

the worshippers of Cyric are lead by a man called Mabuz (aka the curator, the antagonist from divinity's end, who we did have to give a name for this). Mabuz is slowly converting Myrkul's followers to his cause, as well as bringing in followers of his own. this is how Iscariot joins the temple, brought in as muscle in Mabuz's plans for takeover.

Iscariot is slowly losing faith in Cyric until one day he finds his magic disappears entirely. unsure what to do about it, he speaks to Ellery about his sudden loss in magic. Ellery offers him sympathy and understanding, telling him doubt and wavering are a natural part of faith, and that things will eventually work out for him. sympathy is a new experience for Iscariot, who finds this to be an incredibly important conversation, though it isn't enough to bring his magic back

shortly after this, Ellery receives a premonition. Ellery is a prophet, and his god gives him a vision about the end of the world—burning red skies, rains of ash, monsters loose on the world. he tells the cult about it, though with no intention to prevent it—their temple embraces death, and he sees no reason to interfere. even so, the temple residents are split about what the vision means

many of Myrkul's worshipers, such as Ellery, take it as a simple fact. the world will end, and this is basically just a heads-up from their god.

the scheming Cyric group, however, see an opportunity. they believe that, if they bring about the apocalypse, they can shape it, taking ultimate power in the new world and ruling over it

they decide to cause the apocalypse by killing a god—specifically Myrkul. defeating death will grant them power beyond anything else, and this allows them to destroy the members of the temple who doubt their vision

they start this ritual process by killing Myrkul's prophet, Ellery

Mabuz gathers a small group of his supporters and meet Ellery alone in his office. they propose what they call a ritual in honor of Myrkul, sending his most favored ahead to help him in his grand task of welcome the entire world's population. he lists a few of the many members of the cult who have swapped sides, none of which are the people in the room with them, and says all of them are in support of this ritual plan

Ellery is... unconvinced

despite Ellery's position and his faith, he really is afraid to die. besides, Myrkul is patient, and he sees no reason to cut any life short. Mabuz doesn't really listen—he doesn't believe anything he says anyway, he just needs Ellery dead

they argue, and their argument is loud enough to draw Flint's attention. Flint doesn't catch most of it, but Mabuz says fine, Ellery, if you don't want to help us complete our ritual, we'll just ask other faithful members, like Flint here.

Ellery recognizes the threat for what it is and caves, agreeing to the ritual so long as none of his friends are hurt

Flint can tell there's something more happening, but despite his constant snooping, he doesn't figure out exactly what they'd been arguing about that night or what the ritual will be

Syyrin is the one who makes the blade. Mabuz tells her to make the blade for Ellery, but doesn't tell her the occasion. she consults Ellery on the design. despite their usual easy trust and partnership, Ellery doesn't want to tip Syyrin off as to why she's making the weapon or what's going to happen to him, as he doesn't want her to get hurt trying to save him

though Flint and Syyrin both know something is up, neither think to put their heads together about it, so they're never able to get answers

Ellery is weirdly quiet during the next few days. he spends a lot of time near Syyrin and Flint, though doesn't say much. he's convinced, on some level, that this is his own fault, and that he's to blame for his and his friends' lives being in danger. this wouldn't be happening if he hadn't talked about the vision he'd received

after a week, the blade is complete, and the ritual proceeds

(though Mabuz lets Flint roam free despite his sticking his nose in everything all the time to keep Ellery from going back on their agreement, the day before the ritual, Flint sillies a little too close to the sun and finds out what the plan is. Mabuz detains Flint before Flint can tell the others Ellery is going to be killed today. neither Ellery nor Syyrin realize he’s been captured—Syyrin only finds out after Ellery is already dead)

Iscariot is the executioner. he thinks this must be a test of faith from Cyric—if he can kill the man who showed him compassion, he must be able to affirm his oath, and he'll get his magic back

Ellery doesn't want to die. though he's comfortable with death, the act of dying terrifies him. he tries his absolute best not to show it, though, as he doesn't want his friends to fight and get themselves hurt

after Ellery is killed, Mabuz announces the ritual's true purpose: weakening Myrkul in order to destroy him. in another week's time, they'll attempt a second, larger ritual, sacrificing many to gain enough power to kill Myrkul. everyone has two choices: accept Cyric, or be among the sacrifices

(which, L for Flint. he's already on the list)

Mabuz leaves Ellery’s body on the altar. the blade is left in his chest. if anyone touches it, they'll be assumed a Myrkul worshipper and locked away for slaughter in the coming ritual

in the week between Ellery's death and the full ritual, Syyrin manages to lie her way into convincing Mabuz she's down with Cyric, and she begins planning an escape for herself and Flint. other sacrifices they've collected/readied are brought in, including Mar. Mar and Flint meet in their week of captivity, though they can't talk that much in different cells. Iscariot's magic does not come back, and he realizes his test didn't pay off

the first sacrifice in the second ritual is Mar. as a life cleric, she stands out as one of the most powerful sacrifices. it’s again Iscariot who does it, pulling the same weapon Ellery was killed with out of his (still there) corpse to drive her through

as she dies, Mar casts revivify. she intends to revive herself, which does work, though far better than she intends it to: Mar revives not only herself, but also accidentally revives Ellery, as his body is still. there. on the altar

(there's only one soul, though, split over two bodies) (deadsea soulmates forever babyyyyy)

the confusion and chaos is immediate. Mabuz isn't really sure what to do about his sacrifice getting back up, but Mar bolts before he can decide. Mabuz and a few of his cultists run after her in an attempt to salvage their ritual.

Iscariot does not follow, because his faith isn't really in the Cyric worship thing anymore, anyway

a moment after the majority of their group runs off, Ellery sits up. he's a lot slower, his body having been rotted and worm-eaten for a week, and he's incredibly dazed. his revival leaves him without memories, and he's not really sure where he is, what's going on, or even his own name

(he's come back wrong in a lot of ways. one of his eyes is missing, eaten by maggots. he doesn't breathe anymore, and his body has started to rot, leaving him with several patches of exposed bone. before his death, he'd spent all his time in Autumn mode, with orange hair and skin, in reference to his autumnal god. after his revival, he seems to be stuck in winter, with white hair and blueish-white skin)

Iscariot sees Ellery is back and is like oh shit?

Iscariot had been having a crisis of faith, and was able to manage it only through belief in Ellery’s words. he thought killing Ellery for his god would bring his magic back, and Ellery's death only left him feeling more lost.

seeing Ellery back, Iscariot believes in him more than any god

so. he helps Ellery up and decides he's going to protect him, get him to safety. and he looks to Ellery and asks, where do we go?

Ellery has no idea what’s going on. he remembers his god and his faith, but that's... about it. he has full amnesia for his own personal life. he can’t remember where he is or what’s going on. he doesnt know who the man helping him is, though he can see Iscariot wears the emblems of his god, so he trusts him.

Ellery knows there's a hole in his chest—not just the literal stab wound, but something deeper. some part of him is missing—“half his soul is gone, he thinks. his heart is outside his body, and he can feel it moving farther and farther away from him

Ellery follows that feeling, drawn to and seeking out Mar without even really knowing what he's looking for. Iscariot assumes Ellery knows some hidden passage out and follows

while Mar is running/hiding, Syyrin sees the commotion and slips back down to the cells where all the other sacrifices were held. she releases Flint, since she'd been planning his escape anyway. she also frees the other sacrifices-to-be as well, trying to cause a distraction so the two of them can escape. neither of them know about the revivals, they just know something went wrong

Flint and Syyrin had created a hide away, a little secret fort only the two of them knew about. it has a path to the surface and some supplies which Syyrin had been gathering over the last week to prepare their escape, which they begin packing for in earnest with the assorted supplies Syyrin had managed to squirrel away

(this isn't relevant but it's important to me you know this: in both of our two CTM monuments, CJ and Smurg have built weird little secret bases in the walls. i need you to know this is a reference to their secret little mole holes. neither Chris nor Maruu noticed them making these either time but i did and i need to expose them for these)

Ellery stumbles blindly to Mar, who was already panicking quite a bit, and is now panicking more because there’s the corpse and the guy who just killed her. Ellery is immediately struck by the feeling he knows her, though he doesn't know why. this is the heart he was looking for, he's sure, and he starts trying to calm her down. he says he’s not trying to die again and Iscariot says he doesn’t really believe in this faith anyway. Ellery also explains they're trying to escape, and he'd like to help her get away from here

Mar feels that same tug Ellery does, a feeling of emptiness that disappears when he's near. she decides to flee with the two of them, despite her wariness, because she'll be safer in a group of three than by herself

the three of them try to flee, but between an amnesiac, a new and disillusioned cultist, and a sacrifice, literally none of them know where they’re going, especially with so much chaos. the newly-freed sacrifices are running and fighting in the temple, and the Cyric cultists trying to recapture and slay them. the execution trio are kind of just... sneaking and wandering and hoping for a lucky break

their wandering leads them by Flint and Syyrin's base, and Flint and Syyrin see Ellery and another sacrifice and pull the three of them inside. Syyrin explains their escape plan, they get Mar's sacrifice wound and Ellery's wack rot wounds bandaged, and Ellery and Mar get a less bloody change of clothes. Ellery is, again, unusually quiet, but Syyrin figures it's shock and takes the lead in readying their escape

out in the temple, some of the ritual actually does happen. the Cyric cultists manage to hunt down and kill some of their intended sacrifices, furthering their gathering of power. even the sacrifices who kill cultists in self defense accidentally contribute to the ritual’s completion, gathering enough blood for Mabuz to recite his incantation and attack Myrkul

but Mar did fuck up the ritual. Myrkul isn't killed, but shattered, pieces of him scattered across the world

Syyrin and Flint lead the group through the hideaway's secret exit to the surface, allowing all five of them to escape. they emerge into the world to find the world halfway to ruin, the apocalypse halfway started. burning red skies, rains of ash, the distant cries of monster. this, Ellery actually recognizes—this is the apocalypse he saw in his vision

the five of them now have a new mission: find and collect the pieces of Myrkul to put Myrkul back together. revive him and set the world right again. this setup is based on the CTM map format—Capture the Monument maps require players to make their way through different areas and collect special wool (or discs, in the map we played) from the end of each area to bring back to their monument, and players win once they’ve collected all the wool

(CTM stands for “Capture the Myrkul” trust)

we haven’t fleshed out most of the actual “campaign” (bc the au is only like. 4 days old) though a lot of what we HAVE talked about is the characters learning how to manage the conflicts of the new group they’ve found themselves in. stuff like Mar resenting Iscariot for killing her without even apologizing, or Syyrin or Flint’s feelings on Ellery’s amnesia meaning he’s completely forgot their friendships (to name two conflicts among the. lots of bullshit these guys have going on), all while heading through the areas of the divinity’s end map looking for the discs the pieces of Myrkul

[idontego]

We Should Make Up | Kaji x Reader

Summary: This is kind of a part 2 to the break up headcannon i wrote. Kaji sees you entering a bar and can’t help but seek you out and try to make amends with you after your breakup.

A/n: This was so rushed bc i have somehwere to be so i will more than likely go back and make adjustments to this! Let me know what you think! ALSO TOMORROW’S EPISODE WE GET TO SEE OUR MAN AGAIN IM SOOOO EXCITED!!!!🤍

Warnings: breakups, alcohol, suggestive toxic relationship habits, co-dependency, swearing

It was out of the norm for you to go out, and by go out i mean bar hopping, drinking in public places with your friends or worse- strangers. It had been a few months since you and Kaji split up and as much as you didn’t want to, your friends finally convinced you to go out with them. You wanted to hurl at the idea of Kaji finding out about you going out and even worse, drinking on top of it. It was one thing that he would be upset over, strictly because he always felt the need to watch you and be with you out in public only to protect you and it was another thing, because he imagined how easily you could be taken advantage of if you were intoxicated. Just the thought of these things could easily set him off.

You entered the bar wearing a black mini dress with a corset top, squeezing your rib cage and extenuating your breasts and a regular pair of heels that were semi comfortable, nothing over the top. You didn’t know where this night would end but your friends were sure they’d help you make the most of it.

Meanwhile, Kaji sat in his room preparing to patrol and do his almost daily routine of also checking up on you from afar-watching. He was walking down the same street you were on and was concentrating on individuals around him-scanning the area for any threats, and that’s when he saw you. His eyes immediately widened and his jaw dropped almost to the floor as his lollipop hit the ground. He was shocked seeing you in such close proximity to him and you were wearing that?! And you were here?! But you looked so good, so tempting. His eyes examined your figure until he shook his head and ripped open another lollipop wrapper, tossing it in his mouth. His face of shock quickly turned into anger. He looked left, right, and left again to see if anyone he knew was about to see him enter the same building you were in. Kaji did not go out, ever. He didnt like the people, didnt like the setting, didnt like the idea of sweaty shit faced people rubbing up so close to each other, especially you.

His eyes met yours amongst the crowd- if looks could kill, he would be the embodiment of it. You’ve never seen him glare this hard before. Or at least not at you. “Oh shit.” You mumbled under your breath. You swiftly turned your head around in the opposite direction, which was a sad attempt at playing off seeing him-hoping he didn’t recognize you.

To only make matters worse, when you turned around, you bumped into a guy’s chest causing him to spill his drink. “I’m so sorry. Oh my gosh.” You apologized.

“No worries! I’ll just get another one. Why don’t you come with me to get something for yourself as well.” He said with a big grin on his face.

“Uh, sure!” You replied following him. Could this be your escape from Kaji’s glare? Did he lose you in the crowd by now?

You approached the bar and waited on your drinks when you heard a gruff voice behind you and their body heat against your back. “Hey!” Kaji said with the same glare on his face.

“She has a boyfriend ya’ know.” He proceeded

“Oh, really?” The guy questioned.

“She does.” Kaji confirms. Kaji already made his point very clear to this man and you and his stance and the look on face had ‘do not fuck with me’ written all over it.

You closed your eyes in an attempt to disappear but this was actually happening.

“I dont actually.” You blurted out. “In fact-“ Kaji cut you off grabbing your waist and leading you out side of the bar.

“What the hell are you doing her-“

“Did you really think finding some random drunk guy here would solve all of your problems? What were you thinking? Did he try to get with you?”

“Kaji, that’s not what i was hoping would happen. The girls wanted me to go out with them just for tonight because I’ve declined every other time because it still just didn’t feel right to do something like this even though we aren’t together. You know just as much as i do that i never liked going out or drinking.”

“This dress looks really good on you by the way. It’s a shame i never got to see you in it til’ now.” He said rolling his eyes and completely disregarding what you said.

You blushed at his compliment and your heart began to flutter again. Gosh.. why does he have to have this effect on you. “Kaji, we need to talk.” You said, looking at the ground.

He lifted up your chin, so you’d look him in the eyes for what he was about to say. “I agreeI just want to start off by saying that you don’t know how hard these past few months have been for me. Losing you was one of the hardest things for me. I didn’t know how to cope. My friends tried to help me, but i pushed them away. Everythin’ everyday made me think of you and i was completely consumed with the idea that you were gone for good. I was obsessed with the thought of why we ended things the way we did and I felt like i couldn’t protect you as much as I’d like which drove me even more crazy. I lashed out on anyone that we’d get in fights with-exceeding my limits and going over board because i wanted to make sure people like them never got a hold of you. There’s so much more but i-“

You cut him off with a kiss and your eyes were filled with tears. You had the most intense feeling of regret and sorrow for him and also the mourning of your relationship. You wanted him back. You needed him just as much as he needed you. You wanted to make things right. He rested his hands on either side of your waist and you kissed you back-matching your passion.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” You pulled away from the kiss wiping your tears.

“It’s fine. missed you, y’ know?”

“I can’t ever lose you again. I knew we’d come back tho.” You managed to smile and even let out a giggle while saying.

[fuctacles]

B-listers, Slashers, and Porn: The Movie Marathon Pyramid

Late for @strangetober 29th "slasher" bc i cant read calendars starting with Sunday 😩😩😩 also @stevieweek & "This is what you're doing on Halloween?"

M/E | ~4k | Steddissy/Hellcheer/Cheerscoops/Steddie | transfem!Stevie, transmasc!Eddie, FanslyModel!Chrissy, open relationship, sex work | Part 1/2 and a continuation of this | Ao3

"No way this is what you're doing on Halloween." Eddie frowns at his friend's streaming schedule. "Really?"

"Hey, it's okay if you're busy. I'm not expecting you to mod at my every whim. Someone else will be free or I'll just survive one day without. I'm not expecting a huge turn out anyway."

"Because everyone already has plans," he nods along. "Yeah, but why you don't?" He frowns. 

"I do?" Stevie sounds confused over his speakers. "We're talking about them right now." 

Eddie wishes he was on camera so she could see the impressive eye roll that Max had taught him.

"With friends, dumbass. Not a bunch of simps who want to catch your heart attack live. There's a thousand parties you could go to instead!"

Stevie sighs. 

"Everyone already has something and I don'want to go partying with strangers. I'd rather sit at home and play games, honestly," she admits. 

Eddie is, to put it lightly, deadly offended. 

"You didn't ask me," he points out. 

"You live in a different state, man." 

"So does Lucas!"

"Yeah, and that's why I'm not seeing him either!" 

"Well, consider yourself invited. I'll pay for your ticket if I have to."

"What? No--"

"We've been already planning a lazy movie marathon with Chris and you are more than welcome to join."

"That doesn't sound like you. A cozy night in? On Halloween?" Stevie wonders out loud. "Is this a trap? Have you been body snatched?"

"Dude, I've been working on so much shit this month I just want to kick back and relax," Eddie sighs, grimacing at the thought of everything he still has to do before the day of rest. 

"Shit, right, you're releasing that new EP this month!" 

"Yep. So for twenty-four hours, I want to shut myself in and not look at any social media, any music charts, or any emails from my manager. Phone off, Netflix on."

Stevie hums thoughtfully. 

"Will the rest of the band be there?"

Eddie smirks. 

"Just say you want to see Gareth again," he teases. "No, we've spent so much time in the studio for this EP I can't look at their ugly mugs anymore. No, it's just me and Chrissy this time. And now you, of course."

"Ed, if you want to spend this time together, you don't have to invite me."

"You think I'm doing this for you?" He raises his eyebrows at the tiny icon on his screen that represents his friend. "This is for my peace of mind. But mostly for Chrissy, honestly, she won't shut up about you," he groans. 

"Really?" Stevie asks in a small voice, sounding genuinely surprised. 

"Don't you dare play coy now, you seduced my girlfriend with your athletic body and now she wants me to drink protein shakes!"

Stevie bursts out laughing. 

"I'm sorry?" she offers.

"I'll accept your sorries only if you join us for an evening of bad horrors and spiked hot chocolate."

"Deal."

Stevie has the Uber app open and is typing in her destination address when a piercing whistle splits the air. She winces but ignores it as any other time. 

"Hey, babygirl!"

For once, she reacts to the catcalling, as the voice sounds familiar. Her eyes widen.

"Oh, you fucking idiot!" she hisses, which results in her long-distance friend cackling in amusement. Stevie storms to the car he's leaning against, a black van with a demon painted on the side. 

"Hi, sweetheart." He give her his best sleazy smile and leans in to kiss her on the cheek. She doesn't protest but she does roll her eyes. 

"You could have told me you'd pick me up."

"And ruin the surprise? Nuh-uh." He shakes his head.

Stevie sighs. She knows Eddie dropping the theatrics is as likely as Hell freezing over. 

"Well, lead me to your lair, then."

He lights up, prying the bag from her hand while he opens the door. 

"Take a seat, milady, I'll drop your luggage in the back," he says with a small, courteous bow.

The drive passes with Eddie drilling her about her favorite movies and the snacks they are missing. She assures him all she needs is a nap and a warm meal, and he dutifully drives her to her destination. 

Eddie's house is small, a place he's renting right now but planning to buy if money lets him. He opens up the door, Stevie's bag hauled over his shoulder, and yells out:

"Chris! We have a guest!'

Stevie eyes him warily. 

"You told her I'm coming, right?"

Eddie only grins. Then, a shriek rings through the house. 

"Stevie!"

Chrissy throws herself at the girl, and thank gods for their athletic reflexes, because it could end up on the floor otherwise. 

"Hi Chris," Stevie smiles, holding the girl close. It's been months since they saw each other. 

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Chrissy asks with a pout. 

"To be fair, I was sure you knew about this until five seconds ago."

They both look at Eddie, but he's already gone from his spot. There is a clatter of dishes coming from the direction of the kitchen, though.

"Bastard is trying to placate me with food," she hisses, adjusting Chrissy's legs more securely around her hips before she walks towards the sound.

"And here I was wondering why he made his signature stew," Chrissy sighs against her ear. Stevie chuckles. 

"Well, at least he knows what works on me."

They enter the kitchen to find Eddie stirring the thick dish in the pot.

"Hello ladies," he smiles with the obliviousness of an experienced jester. "Hungry?"

"Starving," Stevie admits reluctantly, placing  Chrissy on the counter. "It smells good," she says, her hands resting on her friend's thighs. She can see Eddie's eyes lingering there. 

"Chrissy doesn't like it too spicy, but I can add some extra chilli flakes to your bowl," he says, refocusing on the food. "Wanna try it?" he asks, raising up the wooden spoon. 

"Sure," Stevie shrugs, and watches mesmerized as he gently blows on it before raising it to her mouth.

"How is it?" 

"It's good as it is," she decides, licking her lips to catch everything. "Can I help with something?" she asks, already looking around the kitchen for something to do.

"You can grab the bowls. They're in the cupboard above Chrissy."

Instead of letting her jump off the counter, Stevie picks her up again and relocates further away, to the girl's delight.

Then she opens the cupboard and her eyes light up when she finds their pumpkin-shaped bowls

"Oh my god I love these! You guys are such dorks," she grins, while pulling them out.

"Wait til you see the Garfield tea set," Chrissy smiles back. 

"Where is it?!" 

The stew gets forgotten for a long while, all of Stevie's focus now on ploundering through her friends' cupboards. She finds not only the Garfield tea set, but also matching plates and a lunchbox. There's also a whole shelf dedicated to ornate chalices and tankards. 

"Is this a real horn?"

"Sure is," Eddie grins proudly. "Metal as fuck, isn't it?" 

"Can I have a beer in it later?"

"Absolutely," he laughs, picking up the bowls. "Now come eat."

Stevie gets distracted again with her spoon, its handle shaped like vines, but eventually she digs into the stew. 

"This is good," she praises with an appreciative hum. "Just knowing you, I'd never let you loose in a kitchen."

Chrissy snorts into her bowl and starts choking, which doesn't faze Eddie, who just passes her a glass of water and pats her back. 

"And you'd be right, because I've put all my culinary skills into three dishes I can execute perfectly, and everything else is a biohazard," he grins like it's something to be proud of. Which, in a way, might be. 

"Well, everything I cook tastes kind of bland, so maybe your method is the way to go," stevie shrugs at that, eyeing Chrissy's watery eyes. She seems to have gotten a hold on herself for the time being.

After eating, despite Stevie's flight and the late hour, they start up Scream and hang out with mugs of steaming tea in hands. Eddie had vetoed booze right before bed and the girls reluctantly agreed. They argue the movie list for their actual marathon, as it needs cheesy slashers for Chrissy, outdated special effects for Stevie, and ridiculous plots for Eddie. 

"Terrifier," Chrissy declares like there was no arguing with her. There wasn't, but her friends would try anyway.

"You guys need to see the one with a possessed Christmas tree."

"The Haunting!" Stevie pitches in. 

The list grows and grows and they reluctantly agree to roll a dice on the marathon day to decide the watching order. 

"You can have my bed and I'll sleep with Eddie tonight, okay?" Chrissy asks once the credits starts rolling and Stevie is dozing off, bundled into a spare blanket. The girl blnks at her sleepily. 

"Okay," she says slowly with a frown. "You guys don't share a bedroom?"

"He snores," Chrissy winces like the sole idea appalls her. "And we both like our space. We usually share a bed anyway, just swap between rooms."

"I can take the couch," Stevie offers. "I don't want to hog your space like that."

"Don't worry about it" Chrissy waves her off. "We can switch around later. Now," she stands up to grab her hand. "Do you have enough energy for a shower or would you rather go straight to bed."

"Straght to bed, please," Stevie whines, letting her friend haul her up. 

"Bed it is then, princess," she agrees, slowly leading her upstairs.

"Eddie's rubbing off on you," Stevie says with a wide smile.

"Yeah, he does that a lot," her friend smirks back and they giggle as she opens the right door. "Here's my room. Eddie's is the one opposite door, and at the end you'll find the bathroom. Left door, right one is the office," she explains while pointing along. "You'll find clean towels in the cupboard. Do you need anything? T-shirt to sleep in?" she asks, pushing gently so Stevie sits on her bed. Her sheets are dark green, matching the plants littering the room. 

Stevie has her own pyjama's but like hell is she going to pass on the opportunity to wear her hot friend's clothes.

"Yes, please. Would it be okay if I slept in just pants?" she asks as well. 

Chrissy snorts.

"Totally. Eddie usually sleeps completely naked so don't be surprised if you run into his white ass on a midnight snack trip," she grins. "And I don't wear pants to sleep, just longer shirts. You want long or short ones?"

For a second, Stevie's lost wondering what she's gotten herself into, but she quickly remembers what her friend is asking about. 

"Short," she decides, watching Chrissy open the top drawer of her dresser. The blonde hums as she goes through its contents. 

"Would this be okay? I can look through Eddie's stuff," she offers, presenting a pair of soft shorts patterned in ice cream cones. 

Stevie raises her eyebrows. 

"Is this on purpose?" 

Chrissy looks down at the shorts, before chuckling at the unintentional Scoops Ahoy reference. 

"I swear it's not. It's the first ones I saw that would fit."

Stevie takes them in hand and inspects the width and give of the elastic. 

"They should be fine, thank you," she smiles. 

"Of course, honey. I'm gonna take a shower, you can exploit Eddie in the meantime." 

He has been left in the kitchen cleaning up after their dinner and preparing for tomorrow's breakfast. 

"As tempting as it is, I'm sure I'll be out as soon as I lay down," Stevie chuckels. The hours spend travelling and catching up with her friends were finally taking their toll. 

"Well, in that case good night, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night," Stevie answers tiredly, missing the moment when Chrissy leans down and pecks her on the lips. She barely manages to process that fact, before the doors close behind her friend. She smiles to herself before undressing for bed to finally get some rest. 

Stevie's out to the word until late morning the next day, but thankfully, her hosts aren't early birds either. When she gingerly walks downstairs, she's greeted by the sight of the two drinking coffee and making pancakes. Eddie notices her first and waves to her with his spatula. 

"Good morning! I'll have fresh pancakes for you in a minute. How did you sleep?"

"Like an undead," she yawns, beelining for her forgotten bag, where she has a fresh t-shirt to change into. She does so right there, and when she turns back towards the kitchen, her friends act like civilized beings that didn't just ogle her tits. She graciously decides not to call them out for it. 

When she sits next to Chrissy, the girl murmurs an indecipherable greeting, pressing her arm against hers. Stevie gathers her getly against her side. 

"Eddie, you could spare your girlfriend some energy, she's wilting here!"

He turns away from the stove to huff at her. 

"She'd have more energy if she wasn't gathering fruit on her phone until two am," he counters, crossing his arms. His morning outfit consists of an apron tied around his bare chest, a pair of boxers and nothing else. Stevie's never seen all his tattoos out in the open. 

"I like the beholder tattoo," she says.

"Do not," Eddie points his spatula at her. "Talk nerd in the kitchen. It makes me horny and Chrissy said kitchen is off limits," he pouts. 

Stevie snorts, and rests her head against Chrissy. 

"Sorry, I'll keep it to the bedroom next time."

"Thank you," Eddie nods gratefully. "How do you want your coffee?"

"Just a bit of milk, please."

It must have been waiting for her already, beacuse she gets a steaming mug put in front of her just seconds later. 

"Thank you," she sighs, sipping on the coffee. She got it in one of the Garfield mugs, too.

"Of course. And here are yor pancakes. Pick your poison." After putting a stack of pancakes in front of her, he pushes maple syrup, butter and nutella towards her.

"Oh my god. This is the best breakfast I've had since I visited Claudia." 

Eddie laughs at that. 

"Don't get used to it. Tomorrow it's Chrissy's turn on breakfast and she's usually so out of it she can mistake salt for sugar." 

To that, Chrissy flips him the bird, meaning she's at least processing the conversation happening around her. She can also smell the food, and steals a pancake from Stevie's plate to gingerly nibble on. 

"I can help out," Stevie offers, nuzzling her nose against Chrissy's cheek before she straightens up to dig into the breakfast. "What's the plan for today?" she asks while slapping some butter on her pancakes. 

Eddie hums thoughtfully as he pours batter on the pan. "We have all the candy we should need for trick-or-treaters, but we're short on vegetables for pumpkin soup. So think of anything you'd want to eat, we'll make a grocery list, and hit the farmer's market."

Stevie gives him a thumbs up, since her mouth is already stuffed with pancakes. 

The afternoon is spent arguing about the quality of pumpkins offered at the stalls, and what is the ultimate fall soup. It's a level of comfort and easiness Stevie usually feels only around Robin. 

She's not much of a cook, so when Eddie starts on the soup, she joins him in the kitchen, eager to learn. Which translates to her drinking wine and asking a lot of questions while hanging off his shoulder.

"How long do you need to cook the broth?" she asks, unknowingly breathing wine into his air. 

"At least a couple of hours," he answers patiently. "My mom used to leave it simmering for the whole night, though."

Stevie frowns. 

"Sounds like a fire hazard."

Eddie laughs at that. 

"Yeah, a lot of things weren't a concern twenty years ago."

"Yeah, like condoms, considering you're here," she snickers and gets swatted away for her comedic efforts. 

"What, you're not grateful for my existence? Bold words for someone being guested and fed in my home."

"That is not a word," she says with a frown, though being friends with Robin made her second guess her knowledge of the dictionary.

"It is now! Now, would my guest put her wine aside and peel the garlic?"

"Yes, chef," she salutes and accepts the ingredients handed to her. She manages to convince Eddie she's still sober enough to help him chop the vegetables as well. 

"Ohh, he let you hold a knife?" Chrissy walks into the kitchen a moment later and pouts at her boyfriend. "He never lets me help with aything."

"Lies and slander!" Eddie exclaims at that accusation. "You can do literally anything else. Baby, you can even operate a blowtorch, but a knife in her hand," he turns to Stevie for that part, pointing a spoon at Chrissy. "Is like a fidget toy made out of razor blades."

Stevie, though, focuses on the important part.

"You have a blowtorch?"

Eddie groans, but Chrissy is more than happy to show her the little thing they use to toast the marshmallows for their hot cocoa and chocolate. Of course, this ends up with her making some for all of them. Stevie is the one to chop up the chocolate, though. 

The porch has been decorated and all the candy is waiting near the door, because they didn't bother putting it in the cupboards. The food is mostly done, and the movies they agreed on have been found and added to the watch list, so on the actual Halloween the next day, all they have left to do is chill, open the door, compilment kids' costumes, and take in the spooky vibe. As soon as they take out their pies from the oven, they can start on the festivities. 

Or so it seems.

"Shit," Eddie suddenly widens his eyes in the middle of the kitchen.

"What?" Chrissy bends down to peek into the oven, but everything seems fine there. "What is it?"

"What about the costumes?" he looks at her, genuinely alarmed. She frowns at him. 

"We've been over this? You're Crowley and I'm Aziraphale."

"Well, yeah, but now Stevie is here!"

Chrissy looks at the girl with the same therror as her boyfriend, which almost makes her snort out her wine. Which would be horribly wasteful, since she got hers in the horn as promised. 

"Ah, no worries, you've been babbling about the costumes for so long I had enough time to find a white turtleneck and a fly plushie, and the grey suit should be delivered here in the morning." She waves her hand dismissively, but Eddie is anything but dismissive about Halloween costumes. He gapes at his friend in disbelief. 

"I though you haven't seen Good Omens?"

"After all the fuss you made about it?" She rolls her eyes. "Please. I just didn't tell you because you'd freak out about it, and you're talking my ear off as it is." She smiles fondly despite her words. 

"You prepared a matching costume," he says, still in his nerdy trance. 

"Well, yeah? Didn't want to be left out." 

"I'm sorry I didn't think about it myself," he says, looking so guilt-stricken, she was worried he might pick up a knife and commit seppuku at any moment. 

"It's okay, man, you're so good at improvising--"

"Can I kiss you?" Eddie interrupts her, his eyes sparkling in that insane daze she recognised by now from having one too many autistic nerds as friends. 

"Uh," she looks to Chrissy for support, but she seems mildly exasperated at best, focusing more on the pies in the oven than their exchange. It was about time to take them out. 

"I guess so?" Stevie offers in the end, and watches Eddie put away his beer, like kissing her required his full attention. With the focus she could see on his face she would think it did. 

She can't exactly put her horn away. It needs a designated stand to stay upright, and it's somewhere on the kitchen counter behind them. So, in support of her friend's actions, she just puts her free hand on his hip and angles her head when she feels his palm against her cheek. 

His lips are slightly chapped from the autumn cold, and she can remember Chrissy's complaints about him consistently losing every chapstick she buys him. Stevie makes a note to get him a whole shipment of those for Christmas. She likes the lips that kiss her to be soft. 

Other than that, he's almost ridiculously gentle, unlike the persona he puts on for the world to see. It's easy to imagine him making out with someone, with Chrissy, for hours without getting bored. 

But Stevie likes more, so she parts her lips and pulls his hip closer to her. They both get lost in their impromptu make-out session until the smell of fresh pie reaches their nostrils. Eddie pulls away first, sniffing the air, and when Stevie follows his lead, Chrissy bursts out laughing at their accidental synchronization.

"It's too hot to eat, sorry," she spreads her hands apologetically. "But I have some cookies for the meantime." 

They move apart to dive into the jar of chocolate chip cookies that's presented to them. With pies cooling on the rack and cookies in their hands, they relocate to the living room to play one of the movies from their list. They pick a mindless slasher to turn off their brains after a day of cooking and other preparations.

The conversatiom focuses on the characters' bad choices and the highly unrealistic injuries, until two girls start making-out on screen.

"You know I've never watched your video?" Eddie says then, unprompted. 

Stevie and Chrissy turn to him in unison. 

"What?"

"Really?'

Eddie shrugs at their bewildered stares. 

"I don't know, it felt weird. I never saw Stevie in such, uh, circumstances, and she's paying me, so..." he trails off and shrugs again. "You know I don't watch all of your stuff," he adds, almost defensively.

"Which is very unsupportive of you," she says with an exaggerated pout so he knows she's joking. 

"I'm not watching you get fucked in those shitty amazon costumes, those are an insult to cosplayers worldwide!" he says and it sounds like something he's complained about before. "And did you have to do Jarley? You know we ship Harlivy in this house!"

Chrissy looks like she's doing her best not to laugh and Stevie's barely holding on herself. 

"I'm sorry, you know I couldn't find the right girl in time. And I've already made scenes with Gareth--"

"The fact that he agreed to this is even worse!"

Stevie presses a hand over her lips this time, to muffle her laugh. Eddie glowers at her over Chrissy's shoulder when she reaches for the remote. 

"Wanna watch it now?" she asks, already pausing the movie.

"What?"

"We're all here now, so it's not gonna be weird," Chrissy says, exiting out of the streaming platform. Her friends seem too stunned to stop her. 

"Or it will be extra weird," Eddie points out, but his girlfriend only waves him off. 

"Psh, like we haven't watched my videos before." As if to prove that, her Fansly pops up instantly once she opens the browser. "So?" She looks left and right at her company, waiting for the green light from them.

Like Eddie could ever say no faced with the cover photo of her page--her naked, delicate body covered up by a sword blade. 

"Sure," Stevie shrugs, and Eddie nods along.

"Yeah, let's do it."

[girlboypersonthingy]

request for sal fisher x reader!! so idea one, coffee shop au, sal works at reader's fave coffee shop and they fall in lovee. or second ideaa reader is popular cheerleader who developes a crush on sal.

YEESSSSSSS FINALLYYYYYYY MY FIRST SALLY FACE REQUEST! I’m stoked rn 😆 I’m so in love with Sal, it’s not normal ✨ I’m obsessed with the barista x regular, daily customer trope, fuck yeah! Too cute! Enjoy~

TW: none really, just very fluffy and silly

Notes: Posted recently about how I wanted to write more fics where reader has a stutter bc I have a stutter so reader stutters in this fic 🥹 ah my heart is so full. Also, trying to write out how I stutter is very difficult…

UPDATE: part 2 is in the works!

Sal x reader- Coffee Shop AU ☕️💙

Coffee is a must. Coffee is a necessity. You just can’t function without it. So, of course that’s your first stop of the day every morning before you get started with your day. It’s worth getting up 30 minutes earlier just to sit and enjoy some caffeine and maybe a little snack while listening to music, checking emails, staring out the window, same old same old. It was a very repetitive start to your day…and you’re not sure if you like that or not. It is kind of nice to have a set routine every day and know what to expect each morning but…it’s quickly growing old. Maybe you should change up your drink order? Maybe sit in a different spot? Maybe both? We’ll see.

As you open the double doors of the coffee shop and step inside, warm air rushes up to you as does the smell of coffee, sweet syrups and savory pastries. Normally, you walk straight up to the counter, knowing exactly what you want. Depending on who takes your order, they even sometimes know your usual drink and know you by name. But today, you’re gonna change it up, remember? So let’s take a look at the drink menu, let’s look at the other food options too.

“Hey, (Y/N)! Morning! Just give me sec. I’ll be right with you.” A familiar voice calls out to you, a worker who you interact with often. He was nice, patient and polite. “Okay!” You stood up at the register now, patiently waiting as you tried to recite your new order in your head, making sure you get it all out correctly. Your phone buzzes, catching your attention for a split second. You glance down to check your notifications just as you hear that same familiar voice call out, “Sal! Sorry, dude. I’m trying to fix this faucet. Can you get that customer-“ And before the barista could continue, a deeper voice interrupted. “Yeah, I gotchu. No worries.”

As soon as this new barista was face to face with you, all thoughts of coffee went out the window. Wow. Geez. This is a lot to take in at once. His voice is…so nice. He’s got really cool hair. Is he…wearing a mask? Your eyes fell to his hands, his big hands with nails painted a deep blue color. Then you looked back to his face. His mask? His…face???

“Uh…you ready to order?” He speaks up, making you nearly gasp. “Y-yes, I’m sorry. Uh…can I get the w-….“ Just breathe. “Sorry, the w-w-“ The long pauses between your stuttering make him reach up and touch his cheek before softly mumbling, “It’s okay. It’s a prosthetic…if that’s what’s tripping you up.” He gestures to his face and now you’re blushing furiously, mostly because you’re embarrassed and a bit ashamed for staring but also holy shit, his voice is so nice.

“No, no! I’m sorry, I’m-m-“ And your confidence is slipping away every second you stand here, pathetically crumbling apart in front of this amazingly overwhelming stranger.

“Are you n-new?” You’re almost shouting now, unable to control your nerves. He nods, his blue hair shifting along with his movements. “I thought so. I mean, you’re doing great! I’ve just never seen you…before.” You notice his eyes squint, making you smile a bit. “Yeah, just started a couple days ago. I worked at a few different coffee shops before this so I kinda know the ropes. But, yeah this place is cool.” You nod along, nervously tapping your fingers on the counter. “Do you…usually work mornings?” You inquire, knowing that’s when you usually visit the shop. “Uh-huh” He nods again, leaning against the counter that separates you two. “Cool. Cool. Cool. Awesome. Then I’ll be seeing you often. I come in the m-m…early.” The way you cope with being stuck on a word, just using a synonym that is easier to say, earns a soft laugh from him, making your knees buckle under you because what a fucking cutie he is. Face or no face, doesn’t matter because everything else about him is so charming.

“So, uh…your order?” He pushes off the counter and looks at the computer screen in front of him, waiting for your response. You end up ordering your usual, excluding the food. You’re just too shaken up, too nervous, too excited to focus. Whatever. “And your name?” He finally looks back to you, and now you’re noticing his eyes. He’s got one bright blue eye and one that’s a more grayed out blue color.

“(Y/N).” You finally utter your name, watching as he writes it on your cup. “Cool. I’ll have it right up over there for you.” He points at the other end of the counter before walking off with your cup. Now, normally you’d go sit at the table in the corner near the big window but today, you just had to sit closer to where all the action took place. You were so intrigued by him, what a strange boy, not like anyone you’ve ever met before. You didn’t even know his name. Damn, you should’ve got his name…

“(Y/N)!” The same boy clouding up your mind calls out your name as he sets a cup down on the counter, staying in his spot as you shakily approach him. As you grab your cup, your eyes frantically search his shirt and apron for a name tag but there wasn’t one. “Have a good one.” As he turns, you panic and just blurt it out. “Whats your name?” And now your voice has him spinning on his heels, his hands quickly get shoved into his apron pockets. “Sal. Some people call me Sally.” And all you can do is stare again.

Sal. That’s nice~

“Thanks, Sal. I’ll see you tomorrow then, maybe?” “Yeah, same time, same place.” They eye contact lingers for just a moment and now it feels nearly impossible not to squeeze the cup in your hand and crush it completely, he’s just really getting to you right now. “Okay, cool. Have a good one.” As your voice begins to crack and betray you even further, you turn and book it out of there.

What a nice change in pace, though. Finally, something new, something different, something to look forward to. Someone to look forward to.

The next morning, you can’t wait to see him again. You want to know more about him, you need to hear his voice some more and, you must confess, you’re just dying to know more about his prosthetic and what’s underneath. Not that you’d ever rush him or pressure him into telling or showing you. But maybe you could casually mention it, test the waters…

“Morning, Sal!” You shout as you enter, heading right up to your new favorite morning person who’s already standing at the register waiting for you. “Good morning. The usual? Or are you switching it up today?” You could tell he was smiling under the prosthetic just by the way he spoke. “The usual, please.” He gets to work writing on the cup then suddenly turns away with it. “H-hey, wait! You didn’t charge me-“ “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, it’s on me today.”

You’re a bit taken aback. “What? Why?” You ask with a small smile, watching as he shrugs. “You’re just really nice to me. I appreciate it.” And he’s off to work on your drink before the conversation can continue. You’re gonna have to literally cover your face with your hands to hide your sappy, goofy, love struck expression from him.

You sit at a table close to the bar where Sal is currently grinding up fresh espresso. Everything about him is so nice to look at- the way his arms move and flex as he works, the way he carefully tips his head to the side and wipes it against his sleeve to remove any sweat, the way he focuses as he pours your drink right to the top of the cup.

Soon after, he leans across the counter to set your drink down, his eyes watching as you saunter up quickly. “Thanks, Sal.” Is all you have the courage to say right now but Sal is starting to feel the connection too. He wants to know more about you too, wants to know why you seem so shy and flustered around him, why you’re so nice and polite to him when so many other customers treat him like a freak.

“Can I…sit with you for a bit? I’m about to go on a break.” Sal’s smiling so big under his mask at the stunned expression you’re wearing right now. “Of course! Sure!” Sal follows behind you as you walk to your usual table in the corner, slowly removing his apron. You both sit quietly for a moment.

“So, are m-most the customer not very nice to you? I mean, you said I’m nice to you but I figured I was just being as decent as most people.” Your voice has him stiffening up in his seat. “Yeah, I guess most people don’t take too kindly to blue haired, masked guys who are in charge of making their food and drinks.” “I thought it was a prosthetic?” “It is.” “Right.”

A short period of silence again. “So…what happened? If you don’t mind me asking.” He figured that question was coming soon but he didn’t think it would be this soon. Sal strangely feels comfortable with you though, like he’s known you for much longer than a day so he decides to take a chance on you, see how you respond.

“I was attacked by a dog. Well, that’s the easy version of the story.” With a nod and a consoling smile, you think it’s best to leave it at that and change the topic but Sal just keeps going. “I was uh…I actually…” But the words won’t come out, he can’t bring himself to say it. How does one casually mention they were shot in the face?

“Hey, I’m sorry I asked. Let’s just forget it.” A reassuring smile graces your lips as you watch him look down at his own lap. “I think more people have actually seen my face than heard the story of what happened to it.” “That’s okay. I won’t ask again, promise. And…I’m sorry about whatever you had to go through.”

Your sweet words of reassurance and comfort send his heart into an abnormal rhythm as his mouth suddenly goes dry. Why are you so fucking nice? He can’t handle how sweet and kind and nice and considerate and adorable you are. He’s like 99% sure you’re just really really nice but not into him romantically, and he’s 110% sure you’re waayyyy out of his league. He might as well give up now.

Most mornings, you saw Sal at work, sometimes you didn’t. The more you two interact, the more relaxed you find yourself becoming around him. But even then, you can’t help but feel like maybe you are just romanticizing these interactions. Sure, he’s nice but he’s at work, he kinda has to be. Yeah, he talks to you for a bit at the register but that’s kinda part of the job. Maybe you’re in over your head.

Regardless, you enter the store once again, smiling uncontrollably when you catch a glimpse of his blue hair as he rushes behind the counter. As the bell of the front door chimes, Sal’s head pops up as he looks over. “Morning, (Y/N). How are you?” He continues emptying the trash can in front of him as he looks back and forth between you and the task at hand. “I’m good. How are you, Sally?” A deep sigh leaves him as he lifts the crammed trash bag out of the bin. “Busy. Short staffed. Ready to go home.” All you can offer him is a pouty bottom lip and a hum of sympathy as you near the register. “Aww. I’m sorry. I’ll make it easy for you, okay? I’ll take my usual, here’s the cash for whenever you’re ready and keep the change. Take your time, too! I’m in no rush.” You slide your money across the counter towards him.

And at that, you go to your usual spot in the corner near the window, staring outside as you daydream. Not too long later, you’re startled by Sal setting your drink on the table in front of you. “Oh! Thank you. That was nice, you didn’t have to bring it all the way over here.” You look up at him and notice a change in his body language- he can be hard to read due to his deadpan prosthetic so you’ve learned to examine his body language and tone of voice as indicators of his mood. He’s not looking at you, instead looking out the window past you, he looks like he’s more closed in on himself, more unsure of himself. Weird…

“You okay, Sal-“ “I’m going on break! See ya later.” He zips off to the break room before you can get another word in. Geez, maybe he’s just having a really bad day. Maybe he just wants to be left alone. So, you decide to cut your stay short and get going. As you stand and reach out for your cup, you notice he had brought you a napkin too. Being the good person you are, you reach to grab it and take it to the trash but then you notice…Oh god…oh. my. god. No way. He wrote his NUMBER ON THE NAPKIN AND HOLY SHIT YOU MIGHT COLLAPSE DIE RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW.

You can’t help but glance up and towards the break room where Sal had just run off to, seeing him and his other coworker both peeking around the corner to see your reaction. With cheeks as red as pomegranate and a smile so big it hurts, you exaggeratedly stuff the napkin in your pocket before giving him a wave. “See you tomorrow, Sally~”

Don’t worry, as you walk out of the shop and start giggling wildly with your heart beating a million miles an hour, Sal is sliding down the wall in the break room as he clenches his shirt in his hand, literal heart eyes for you right now.

You haven’t even seen his face but you accepted his number? Shiiitttt…he’s got it baddddd for you.

[ghoulsgraveyard]

Wear Them 2/3

a/n: so i decided to split this into three parts because i felt bad about how long its been since an update, i needed to feed yall. so this will have to tie you over until we get into the good shit. i may split this again just bc this fic has a mind of its own. this is not proofread, i will proof read it later tho.

warnings: Content warnings: feminization (reader calls Eddie a girl), panty theft (obvi), subsequent panty wearing, perv!eddie, degradation (the fun kind), fem!reader, reader has a vagina, sub!eddie, dom!reader, slut shaming but also virgin shaming (it makes sense don’t worry), some light cock and ball torture (genital slapping), spanking, emotional hurt/comfort (I dont know how that happened it just did) aftercare!

read part one here

You flicked the panties at his chest “you wanted them so bad. Wear them.”

Eddie seemed to realize what you meant in slow motion, putting the pieces together “intended purpose” and talking of him stretching them out… holy shit. You wanted him to wear your panties, and even more shocking to him, he wanted that too.

His mouth gaped like a fish, his lack of response causing you to pause “is that- would that be something you would want to do?” his response was immediate “yes fuck yes please uhh yes I feel like I should call you something other than your name while we do this or maybe I'm over thinking this and you’re not into that and the whole idea of calling you something else isn’t because I want to do this with someone else because uh im uh only interested in you and doing this with you and uh now I'm talking too much an-” shutting him up with a kiss “don’t worry about it baby. You can call me whatever you want, whatever makes you the most comfortable” you smiled against his lips. Eddie thought for a bit “promise you won’t laugh?” he said meekly, still fearing your judgment.

You held your hand up to his cheek and smoothed the skin of his cheek with your thumb, holding his face. In that moment you realized why Eddie was so hypersensitive towards you in particular. He can handle the judgment and ridicule from everyone else in this town, but not from you. You remembered all the times he would look to you after telling a joke to see if you’d laugh, or asking you to double check an assignment, even letting you read his book of lyrics. He had given you every piece of him, he looked to you for your approval, he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and in that moment you have never felt more important to another human being.

All you could do was smile warmly at him “oh baby I would never laugh at you” he practically whimpered, melting into your hand, then murmured “thank you master” he looked to you, silently asking if you liked that one, the groan you released more than answered him but just to reassure “that’s a great name you picked thank you baby.” Eddie beamed at the praise.

“Okay baby, before we do this I want to make sure you’re happy and safe the whole time, okay lovely? So to check in with you I'll ask you what color you’re feeling. If you feel good and safe say green, if you want to pause or slow down say yellow, and if I do something that makes you feel bad or unsafe I want you to say red. In the event you want to stop or pause or slow down, don’t wait for me to ask you baby, just shout out your color, okay?” he nodded along “I need to hear you tell me you understand baby” “I understand master” you smiled at him “good girl” eddie was immediately confused “I'm- master I'm a boy I'm not a girl” you raised your eyebrow at him, still smiling “honey I think you’re a bit confused, yeah?” you spoke to him like he was a lost dog, he nodded and you pouted at him “okay baby I'll help you make sense” suddenly you grabbed his chin, smushing his face in your hand forcing him to meet your gaze “when we’re playing, you are whatever I say you are. So if your master calls you a good girl, that’s what you are. Got it?” Eddie whined at the roughness of your grasp, “yes master thank you master” you gave him a curt nod “what’s your color baby?” eddie was still reeling but buzzing with excitement “green, master”

“Well?” you gestured to the panties “put them on slut.” eddie was beyond flustered, he began moving, then a truly delicious idea came to you “actually baby just lay there. Master will put them on for you.” he was glowing with embarrassment “what do you say sweetheart?” there was a pause as eddie tried to think of what you wanted to hear “thank you master” you beamed with pride “good girl, you’re catching on so quick! Such a good girl for your master” you swiped the panties off of his chest and settled yourself at the foot of the bed, the image was erotic. This big intimidating man who scared the whole town was trembling on his bed while you slipped a pair of panties between his feet. You swept them up slowly, the hair on his legs being pulled by the fabric, then released. The elastic of the legholes fought to accommodate his large thighs. You situated the underwear in the back first, pulling the gstring up so it sat correctly between his cheeks, now was the fun part. Eddie whimpered and you pull the fabric up in the front, slowly, torturously, the back of the panties pressed and pulled his tender sack while the front was still being rolled up by you. Swift finger adjusting the fabric that pushed his weeping cock against his stomach, you were delighted by a revelation: he was too big. Eddie’s dick was too long to fit in these panties, the elastic stopped about 3/4s of the way up, leaving the rest of him exposed. You watched as the red tip of his aching cock seemed to cry pre-cum, sticking to the patch of hair that trailed from his navel to his bush. You leaned back to take in the image. It was beautiful.

You looked at him from all angles like he was an art piece, how the straps sat above his hipbones, the way the elastic stretched to accommodate the cock sticking out of the top, how his full hairy balls couldn’t fit in the crotch and were practically cut in half by the g-string, the delicious way the fabric desperately stretched to hold his hard cock, practically busting at the seems. It was beautiful.

Eddie couldnt help but squirm under your watchful eye, and for the obvious reason. He whined which caused your gaze to snap back at his face “you look so pretty baby” you cooed at him “so pretty all dressed up for your master, such a pretty girl” eddie blushed and hid his face behind his hair when you called him that. He feels like he shouldn't like it as much as he does. You pet his face “you like that don’t you sweetheart? Hmm? You like it when master calls you a pretty girl?” clearing his throat “y-yes master I like being your pr-pretty girl” he was so bashful it was adorable

“why don't you go look at yourself in the mirror?” you stood up off the bed and offered him a hand, which he took shakingly, you led him to the full body mirror in his room, then stood behind him, both of you looking at him. Eddie rotates his hips, looking at himself from different angles just like you did. Your hands wrapped around his chest and grazed his torso with featherlight touches leaving goosebumps in their wake “look at you” you whispered “just gorgeous” your hands made their way down to his groin “such a pretty cock all wrapped up in lace” you squeezed his dick, hard. He hissed at the feeling “hurts'' he said through his teeth “good hurt or bad hurt baby?” you rubbed your palm over his bulge “g-good hurt.” a grin split your face “oh that’s good baby. You like it when your master hurts you?” you grabbed the leg holes of the panties and pulled them up roughly, causing the g-string to harshly dig into his balls, Eddie yelped at the sensation, the sound quickly morphing into a moan.

You bark out a cruel laugh at his response. “Well?” you growl at him, Eddie pants, his mind empty, his wide eyes bright but thoughtless, his jaw slightly dropped so his pink lips form an ‘o’ as he pants “I asked you a question. I expect you to answer me.” Eddie desperately wracks his brain for the question, finally he remembers, stuttering out “Y-yes master I l-love, I love it when you hu- hurt me master.” Whines caused him to interrupt himself, in his empty head all he could think about was how he could please you, impress you, you seemed happy when he talked, so he tried again to form words “Th-thank you for being so p-patient with m-me master” he gasped out. You gasped in delight, smiling wide “Oh baby look at you! My good girl has amazing manners. So proud of you sweetheart. I’m so happy with my little slut” Eddie soaked up the praise like a sponge to water, bathing in the warmth and depravity of your words “You’ve been so good for me, i think you deserve a reward.” you whisper to him like a secret “what do you think?” he nods quickly, hair shaking with the motion “yes master I would like a reward please.” you dig your nails into his hipbones and roughly pull him back onto the bed so he’s sitting back to chest with you facing his mirror. You lick and bite at his earlobe while snaking your legs to sit over his thighs, somewhat restraining him with your body. You let your fingernails drag up his hip bones and dance across his torso, his abdomen twitching at the light touches, cock continuing to drool just below his navel. Your fingers skirt up to his chest, drumming your fingers on his pectorals before allowing yourself to lightly circle his right nipple with your finger tip, the rosy bud hardening as you circle in tighter, you repeat the ministration on his other side before taking each nipple between your pointer and thumb. Eddie lets out a low hum at the sensation. You gently roll the skin between your fingers, gradually increasing pressure, until you’re fully pinching him. He squirms in your hold letting out whimpers and moans. You smile and continue to roll and tug at his sensitive skin, his hips jumping when you slap his chest. His gasp transfers seamlessly to a loud moan, skin prickling in reaction. “That feel good, little one?” you smile, already knowing the answer “uh-uh-huh feels really” you interrupt him with a slap to his other nipple, causing him to moan loudly “really, r-really good” the rest of his response came out in a whine. His head rolls back to rest on your shoulder, bangs sticky with sweat against his forehead, eyebrows pulled together with fluttering eyelids occasionally revealing the whites of eyes rolled back, mouth hung open in pleasure. He looks depraved. He looks divine.

You drag your nails across the reddened and raised skin “it’s a little bit funny” you muse “because you’re a slut, but you’re such a little virgin huh baby?” he whimpers, you continue “it’s pathetic, it really is, but it’s endearing how hard you try. Try hard to come across as this big scary man out in the world, but i slap you around and suddenly you’re my pathetic little girl. You’re not scary at all, you couldn’t hurt anything.” he nods in agreement, you lick the skin between his chin and his ear, biting his earlobe before you whisper “but I can” he whines loud and high in his throat, at the sensation and your promise of delicious pain. “Wh-what do you mean master?” he licks his lips, eyes straining to look at you from his place on your shoulder “oh all sorts of good hurt i could give you. I was thinking, because of how much you like when i slap you, i’d like to see your pretty ass over my lap.” He blinks at you slowly “Thats your cue to lay yourself over my lap baby.” He quickly scrambles into position in a manner who’s absence of grace is substituted by enthusiasm.

taglist:

@g4ys0n @sunxflowerlou @maxwiththeaxe @creepyco13 @billhaderstan420 0 @ilovestrongmen @sad1st1c-wh0re @santawasbisexual

[coridallasmultipass]

brocal for the ship bingo?

The OTP to end all other OTPs... (Man. This wound up being basically Cori's Masterpost of BroCal. AKA... this got long and has some images, since I realized I can post my own art directly instead of just a text link to it lol.)

Wasn't actually expecting this to wind up with a bingo? But I got basically 2?? (Will explain the lighter heart later.) This is A LONG post, and definitely gonna get SUGGESTIVE, bc man, am I obSESSED with BroCal. I'm just gonna go thru each checked box, since I don't know how else to structure this post lol.

Read More to save ppl's dashboards:

I want them to make out with blood: OKAY. I HAVE A WHOLE THING PLANNED FOR THIS CONCEPT. I AM NOT GOING TO GO INTO DETAIL ABOUT IT JUST YET BC I ACTUALLY WANNA WRITE IT. I'm obsessed with this one fanart of Bro licking Lil Cal, and it spurred on an idea I outlined and really wanna write: https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/739969858334294016/hiiii-mutual-i-am-secrecy-asking-if-u-have-anymore

((Sorry for the plain text links, Tumblr app is NOT cooperating with me right now to add hyperlinks. I'd post the image directly if that one was mine.))

Basically, I just really need to see Bro and Cal making out with blood in their mouths, and I started a whole convoluted, unrelated outline in order to make that hapen. It'll probably just be a really short thing that ends at the uh climax, since otherwise it's gonna end up sadstuck. And I don't like sadstuck lol.

Undeniably t4t: Bro and Dirk are always trans for me, and Lil Cal's got that uh... what percentage did I calculate it out to be? 13% of Dirk is in Lil Cal [ My shitpost calculations: https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/746702663327072256/i-ran-out-of-tags-rambling-about-this-so-im-just ] so Lil Cal is at least 13% trans because of that much of Dirk being in him, plus however you feel about the other components being trans. LMAO this is ridiculous to type out. Moving on.

EDIT: FUTURE CORI INTERJECTING WITH A:

"Lil Cal Top Surgery Healing Progess: Day 1"

Terrible for each other affectionate/derogatory: I don't even know where the affectionate/derogatory split occurs. I multiship BroCal as both Bro/normal puppet Lil Cal and as Bro/evil juju puppet Lil Cal, and whatever combination in between or outside of that. Terrible in that Bro is so obsessed with Cal that he doesn't have normal relationship/social skills and uses Lil Cal as both a crutch and motivator alternately, in a terrible cycle, or maybe rather... spiral. And also terrible in that Bro is caught in the allure of playing the role of puppeteer while also being a puppet for the darker parts of Lil Cal, whether he actively knows it or not. (Honestly though, I feel like it's dismissive if you try to blame all of Bro's faults on Lil Cal like this tho, which is why I tend towards liking Lil Cal as just a regular puppet a lil bit more. Or at least, a regular mildly supernatural puppet since that can be a little more entertaining if Cal can get into mischief while no one's looking or give off the vibes of his mood more directly, rather than like entirely inanimate or 'just LE, trapped in a puppet body.' Again, I like all of these concepts.) ((I mean that can also be a whole post of its own, like, by the time Bro gets ahold of Lil Cal, are any of the other components still alive in there? Like, are ARquius and Gamzee still in there or did Caliborn kill and consume them entirely? Idk how it works, man. This is why I like Lil Cal as his own person, maybe just influenced by the feelings of the others. LaCroix: CalGamARquius essenced water. Lil Croix.))

They need to get weirder with it: YES YES. 1000% YES. I need entirely shameless Bro doing entirely shamless things to Lil Cal. I want them inseparable and doing unspeakable things to each other. I want Bro taking full advantage of Cal having a puppet body and all the intimacy that comes with making repairs and being elbow-deep in stuffing.

Playing with them like dolls cute/psychological torture: This is the same divide as with the 'terrible for each other' point, so I'm just gonna go with the cute one, since the torture one is self-explanatory. I want them fucking married. Like. Full mushy cute romance type of relationship that Bro has never felt for any of the people in his life (cough aromantic cough). I made this comic not too long ago, and I often fondly look back on it, because I adore the concept of Bro being lovey and romantic and everything out of character around Lil Cal because he feels safe and loved and comfortable around Cal:

[ https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/750602227910131712/brocal-4-lyfe-so-i-had-this-idea-of-dave-being ]

I made a post a long, long time ago (not gonna link that one bc it was personal and I was being very obviously mentally ill ["C'mon, like you're not being obviously mentally ill while typing paragraph upon paragraph about BroCal still in 2024 like 10 years later??" Fair.]) But the gist of it was that, like, having objectophilia or objectum sexuality is like, from an outsider pov, it's a way to express love to yourself. You filter all your self-hate through the object you love, and you get back unconditional love in return.

Lil Cal is never gonna hate Bro, no matter what Bro does. As a regular puppet, Lil Cal doesn't have the capacity for hate. And so that only brings them closer, since Cal is never gonna reject Bro for any reason. (Back to being a crutch. RSD is real, and Dave is probably a big trigger for that since he's not on the same wavelength of weird as Bro [not blaming Dave, obviously, this is a post about BroCal].) Bro can experience receiving positive attention from Lil Cal, without feeling 'fake' or uncool by expressing that same attention or affection directly to his own self. (Things are always done through multiple layers with the Striders, aren't they?) ((And I'm not saying Lil Cal doesn't love Bro, or that their relationship is just pretend - it's real, I'm just like, 'What's going on behind the curtain in the mundane situation?/ How is the relationship appealing?' Lil Cal luvs Bro 5eva 4 lyfe and that's a hard fact. Could cut diamonds with that shit.)) Example: maybe Bro is dealing with a bout of body/gender dysphoria and is trying to take out his frustration with working out, and it's not helping, even if he's powered through a set better than normal. Then, he notices the way Lil Cal is watching him, and he can feel the excitement seeping off Cal. He can sense the echoes of a wolf-whistle ring out through his mind, and it's like. Okay, none of that shit from before matters, he's got all the validation he needs right there in Lil Cal. Maybe flex in Cal's direction, Bro?

Oh, so back to being cute: isn't it wonderful how the template maker phrased it as 'playing dolls'? But yeah, I want all the mush and everything. Bro has a whole wardrobe for Lil Cal for every minor event that occurs in the Strider household. I want them going on genuine dates. Maybe even... holding hands. Bro blushes for the first time since he was 16. He even gets to take Lil Cal with him when he goes out to DJ or put on a show. Not to mention the whole website business. (I've talked about Cal's role in that before, but I'll mention it in a moment...)

They will die in a heart shaped pool of blood: I mean, kinda did happen, even tho Lil Cal didn't perma die right there. I don't think this one needs any explanation, since it basically happens in canon.

'You should see the other guy...': Okay, so. About 11 years ago, I had a really great idea. About how smuppets enter this world. I expanded on it in the following more-recent post (adult only content lol): https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/741683686717669376/back-in-the-day-my-friends-called-me-insane-when-i

To sum it up, whenever Bro makes a new smuppet design, he then gives it a video debut on his website, where uh, Lil Cal births the smuppet like it's a horror movie scene, fake blood and poly-fil gore all over the place as the smuppet crawls out from the viscera. Bro then gets to play aftercare by lovingly and gently cleaning up and restuffing Lil Cal as they get to admire their new creation and rake in the dough lol.

So it's technically not a 'you should see the other guy' kinda situation, but it does involve one of them being... idk what word would describe it. Injured by the other? Usually a character loses a fight and says this to act like they got out of it better than the other guy, but... We could have someone knock on the door during the filming of a scene like that, and Bro has to answer it with fake blood up to his elbows, and be like 'You should see the other guy.' (But obviously, that's a terrible idea and would cause more trouble than it's worth... Maybe worth it for a persistent door to door salesperson, though.)

Though, I guess I should also say, I'm not opposed to Bro beating on Lil Cal in or out of the bedroom. Or in the case of animate Lil Cal, Cal choking out Bro. In or out of the bedroom, lol. Depends on the situation, like I said I will ship this ship any which way. But my preference for animate Lil Cal is to be like a totally normal puppet around Bro (or mushy in-love with Bro) and then evil-murder-puppet towards anyone else in Bro's life, like a... toxic yaoi guard puppet. (New Phrase Achievement Unlocked!) Bro brings home another guy to have sex, who tries to stay the night due to the late hour, but the guy wakes up shortly after to see Lil Cal standing there with a knife in the dark, eyes glowing red. Panic ensues when the guest screams and freaks out, and by the time Bro's got a light on, grabbing his sword, ready for a ninja vs ninja fight (bc an intruder would've had to bypass all the traps), Lil Cal is just innocently splayed across the desk chair, no knife in sight. Relevant post (well, the caption on the post too, saying how Bro can't seem to hold onto any relationships besides Lil Cal):

[ https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/741830516962164736/i-want-you-so-youre-mine-always-selfishly ]

Uh, lol, also Cal choking out Bro in the bedroom, adult only drawing: https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/754328907438800896/i-wouldnt-wanna-be-my-ex-when-he-found-out-who

Thinking about them always and forever: Listen. My Tumblr as proof, I've had BroCal on the brain for at least 11 years at this point. Definitely longer, since I first started reading Homestuck. I fucking love puppets and dolls and plushies and I always have. Man, if I hadn't deleted Tweets (automated app I used to do, and I couldn't choose what to save) from when I was in high school, you could've seen me @ ing my fave band when they were taking lyric suggestions on a fan-inspired album, where I was telling them 'make a song where the theme is puppets' and, while I don't know if they saw that or took the suggestion (they had responded to me before bc they weren't huge yet), there is indeed a song titled "Puppets" on that album, and it was my favourite song on there. Point is, I was fated to ship BroCal before I even knew it existed.

Sicko 2 sicko communication: I mean, does this even need explaining? Bro and Cal aren't just on the same wavelength of freaky, they're the fucking source of the wavelength, and it's causing a feedback loop between them. And it does as feedback does, which is, it amplifies with time. (Going back to the spiral symbolism here, lol.) ((Actually, time can play a symbol here, too, I guess, but idk how to word it, I'm starting to run out of steam.))

Let them have a happy ending: God, I need this so badly. I know Bro's story ends in Homestuck, but like. Pls. Someone needs to officiate their wedding. Currently placing the dreambubble order, but I can't organize a wedding by myself. OH speaking of. In that lil comic I did above, where Bro is accepting Lil Cal's proposal, I had the Natural Born Killers wedding scene in mind. I was gonna draw that as a follow up, but I think I have too many WIPs going. Just two people on the run, saying "I do" in a scenic but completely ordinary roadside location. Idk why, I keep going back to that movie for things related to Bro (I mention it in a very important scene in a longer WIP I've been writing, as something Bro watched and internalized as a kid lol.) It's not the best movie lol. Anyway.

The devotion omg: I feel like I have already gotten my point across about this, but let me reiterate:

[ https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/735842968450269184/in-the-name-of-iconic-magical-girl-anime-ill ]

Bro and Lil Cal absolutely beat the shit outta Jack Noir before he gets prototyped. And even then, they fight together till the death, like. C'mon. Nothing more romantic than fighting a losing battle side by side. Also, like, Lil Cal having his own protective chest for safekeeping as seen in the Strider living room? Like, you don't just have a protective case for any old thing, especially something meant to be handled, especially something that is regularly used to smack other things/humans. What I'm saying is, Lil Cal is durable and resilient, and yet, Bro still has a case for transporting Cal safely. Oh, wait, I just thought of something funny, what if Lil Cal goes feral like a cat, and basically the chest is like a cat carrier so Bro can drive without being constricted lmaoooo, I've been typing for hours can you tell?

Kind of homophobic: Listen. I HAD a Cal. Took him to college. Staked my claim on the top bunk bc I am royalty. Proceeded to not have anywhere to set my water cup and had to use a cardboard box as a table up there. Spilled water. Melted Cal's sharpie-drawn face. And then proceeded to cry. I have a WIP of Lil Cal 2, but that requires actually remembering to work on him. I wanna do better by the pattern, too, since I rushed to finish the first. I have all the material! I have the project started! So it's just a matter of reordering my WIP priorities, honestly.

Where is all the fucking content?!: For realzz. I was actually venting about this the other day (didn't end up posting it), but it's like, either there's no BroCal content, or there IS BroCal content, but I can't reblog it for reasons I don't want to get into on this post. I'm dying of thirst in the ocean, basically. Whatever. This just means I need to make more BroCal content myself, which I am more than happy to do. I've just had a rough past few months, so I'm glad I got to type all this post out, and hopefully I can get back to creating soon.

Last one! I hope this one makes up for the absurd length of the post, it's prob my new fave idea I just came up with on the spot.

[TW drink spiking by a stranger mentioned in this.]

Committing atrocities as their silly little activities: I think we all know what this means, but I am going to ignore that elephant with my special x-ray vision. Because this is a BroCal post. I'm digging deep to the meat and bones of this. Honestly, this could go multiple routes, it depends on how you take your Lil Cal.

One could place emphasis on the 'guard' part of the, ahem ahem, toxic yaoi guard puppet. Maybe someone is actually trying to harm Bro, and Bro legit can't do anything for reasons outside of his control - let's say his drink got spiked a while after he invited a stranger home that he thought was chill. As Bro gets shoved down on the futon, his memory of the night is only a few flickers. Familiar orange plush, roiling around above him like a dancing windsock. Flashes of Lil Cal's face all distorted and stretched wide like a funhouse. J-Lo and Ice Cube on the TV. But when Bro is finally able to fully wake up in the morning, everything is as if he just got home alone last night and passed out on the futon. Cal looks totally normal and content tucked under Bro's warm arm. Except when Bro gets up, there is a pair of shoes too big to belong to him at the door. Maybe Bro knows. Maybe instinct tells him to run. Maybe he does, but he's running towards Lil Cal, every time.

[tomwambsgans]

so i've assumed for the longest time that 2x7 must take place in march of 2020 because in 2x9 DC, gil refers to march 12th as the night that tom sent greg the "can't make a tomlette" emails, and of course a deleted scene from that episode is the only time we would have ever seen that phrase mentioned otherwise. it also makes complete sense, narratively, to essentially do a little fakeout: "tom, is [the date that you burned the documents] significant to you?" "nope! (feeling confident bc there's no proof of him having done that on that day)" "well that's the day you sent all these batshit emails, and how i know for certain you are well acquainted with greg hirsch." "uh oh"

ntm the fact that it makes a lot of sense as a character choice for tom to specifically send greg that email over and over again on the night that he's kinda trying to punish greg, and where he's probably totally unable to sleep.

anyway, there's a But incoming... i fucking wish there wasn't, but. somehow i've only just now realized that in DC, gil refers to the thanksgiving of 1x5 as "last year." which would indicate that it's still 2019, and therefore the march 12th he's referring to should be a day very close to tom's wedding. and, admittedly... it's not totally out there that tom's initial reason for coining the phrase was because he learned about the Greg The Egg nickname, from shiv having told him after hearing it from caroline. hell, maybe it was when they first started at ATN and it was tom's anxiety spilling out to match greg's Principles.

obviously it's a lot of personal bias that mainly makes me not want this to be the case, like... the sheer amount of fic i've written just confidently using the timeline where a year has passed in the first 7 episodes of season 2, which would be fucked to hell if i accept that DC is in 2019 lol

however..... it IS pretty undeniable that at least a year passes in season 2. do the math: exactly 2 years between the pilot and 4x1. ~5 months pass in s1. 2 and a half weeks pass between 2x9 and 3x5 (according to frank). the rest of s3 takes place - MOST LIKELY - over the course of no more than 4 months. about 3 months pass between s3 and 4, based on knowledge of shiv's pregnancy. and no gaps between seasons otherwise... that's a year left. there HAS to be at least one months-long timeskip somewhere in there. and it's always seemed very plausibly to be between tern haven and argestes, given the notion of pierce "fucking them about." for the longest time i've even specifically imagined argestes as being after the holidays and in january of 2020, partially bc that's convenient for why any notion of logan's 81st bday, the recny ball of 2019, and the holidays are all completely missing. the holidays would also be a good excuse on pierce's end not to rush a deal, and finally, i took into account the weather in that episode.

frankly, i consider the climate heavily when i'm working out the timeline of a show. especially this one. if they wanted to make it plausibly deniable what time of year it was, they'd set the episode indoors. or they'd pick a different part of the world for the roys to visit. and in the season 2 finale, they're on a yacht and explicitly swimming in the mediterranean. it's VERY unlikely that they'd be comfortable hanging around in swim trunks and swimming in those waters if it was any time between october and march. going off of that... if s3 begins in late 2019 as opposed to april/may of 2020, then caroline sent out her wedding invitations no less than 6 months early.

basically it's split between this:

what gil said has more weight. we can assume that the seemingly conflicting weather is a metatextual flub to be ignored. DC is in 2019, the emails were around the time of the wedding, and the huge timeskip containing the holidays is in s3 which also means that caroline sent out her invitations very early

settings and characterizations have more weight. we can assume either that gil misspoke or that it's a metatextual flub to be ignored. DC is in april of 2020, the emails were sent during The Return, and the huge timeskip was in s2 and took the holidays of 2019 with them

[sick-ada]

Also it’s not a part of the ask game, but what are ur oc’s thoughts on the idols! Like opinions on DEEPCUT/OTH/SQUIDSISTERS!!! And do they even listen to their music or do they prefer some of the non-idol splatbands?

OK SO IM GONNA SPLIT THIS INTO LIKE. PER EACH IDOL GROUP BC I LIKE TO ORGANISE THIS STUFF. warning this is long

the squisters:

proto is basically the third squid sister, even if they don't perform. they do a lot of the management, the advertising, organise stuff, the works. they do less of it after splat1 as they all start to drift apart, but they like the squid sisters in the "we are literal sisters" sense rather than just the music sense

as musicians, flora and bola don't really like them. they represent the tastes of wider inkadia and the more well-off parts of inkopolis, which is not at all what flora and bola are about. as people... it depends. in the canon where flora is agent 4, she's kind of indifferent to them. marie hands him a military grade gun and he didn't have hearing aids at the time so she just decided "yeah okay i'll start doing violence, whatever" and doesn't really care about saving callie or whatever. literally does not find out about it until later, when he finds out the hero headset work as hearing aids. bola doesn't trust them at all, but they're more focused on openly antagonising proto than on agents 1 and 2. HOWEVER.... there is also an au i wanna do more stuff for, called the odd1out au, where marie/callie swap and so do flora/bola. bola and callie work together to rescue marie, but it's less of a "you gave me a gun so sure i'll shoot people whatever" situation and more of an exchange: bola helps callie do this and she has to help them take down/generally harass Squidforce. bola's very abrasive as opposed to flora being very accepting and uncaring as agent 4, so they kinda force callie to grow and recognise a lot of the biases she's been carrying from craig (e.g., callie assumes bola is an octarian bc they're an octoling, makes a comment along the lines of oh aren't you glad you deserted them, and bola refuses to come back and help until callie comes and apologises (they also punch her in the face for that)). so in that au, callie kinda grows on bola and therefore flora too, once she comes to hang out with them to help w the squidforce stuff. marie is... rockier. after getting rescued, she's pretty bitter that callie is spending more time with someone she perceives as an octarian, the group that fucked her over, than with her own cousin. this is amplified when the eights join the leftovers, cause then she's hanging with Actual Octarian Soldiers, and bubbles being a sniper/scout means that marie has no place in the group. basically bc callie grew while marie didn't they grow apart and the leftovers don't really like her, and fully resent her once it comes out what proto and the squisters did in splat1 and she sides with proto over callie.

uh anyway i got carried away there. CB and bubbles' opinions change as they get more of their mem cakes, as they dont get them all the first time around and have to go back later for them. before, they're like "theyre famous ig? idk im trying to Survive here" but after they're like Oh Those Guys Caused A Large Amount Of Our Problems since they were directly responsible for causing the famine + desertion that was a catalyst to bubbles' parents abandoning him and CB getting Unethical Scienced on to make her a supersoldier. theres a reason they fight Inner Agents 1 & 2 rather than Inner Agent 3 and it's not just that proto is a weak ass fighter

pluto gives not a single shit. none. not one. levi (lil buddy, Leviathan's Flight Over Verdant Pastures, horrorboros, i need to mention them more) likes the squid sister's music well enough. would listen to it on the radio but wouldn't put on a playlist of it. doesnt really care about the people either

Off The Hook:

proto hadn't heard of them before octo expansion, and honestly doesn't super like either of them? they make a bad first impression on CB & bubbles, and therefore a bad impression on OTH, since the eights have the radio before meeting 3 and craig in this au. they never really recover from it bc theyre kinda rude in general and dont make a massive effort to redeem themselves to OTH. indifferent towards their music.

flora and bola absolutely idolise OTH, since they run the announcements for the underground inksports scene rather than the official squidforce stuff (big inspiration from @worldsewage's stuff), which is what the two of them frequent. they like OTH for the same reasons they dislike the squisters; they represent the same parts and aspects of inkopolis culture that the leftovers do. they get closer with OTH thanks to the connection through CB and bubbles post-OE, and are even trusted to run the announcements for OTH while they're on tour! fun fact: off the hook concerts are probably one of the main contributors to flora's deafness. guy who did not wear hearing protection to the concert of "woman who destroys shit with her voice" and suffers the consequences

CB & bubbles are super close with OTH, since they're the first people they met other than each other after waking up without any memories. marina was also the first person to speak to them in octarian, which was the only language they could understand at first. they care for each other and they're great friends, CB and bubbles don't help the other leftovers with covering the announcements bc they go on tour with OTH, and even perform with them a couple times!

pluto has never heard of them and neither has levi. rip!

deep cut:

proto doesn't like them bc they're getting in the way of the NSS' goals in alterna. theres not really any redemption at the end, cause deep cut don't decide marie should be their boss in my au, they instead decide to side with pluto who also doesn't really give a shit about the NSS. doesnt listen to their music

the leftovers squad all likes their music, but flora and bola do like to play up the whole splatsville vs inkopolis thing whenever they're brought up since they're loyal to inkopolis. all in good fun tho. maybe if they get famous enough theyll do a collab w deep cut or smth i need to figure out where to put them in my lore. CB and bubbles never meet them i dont think

pluto likes their music, levi LOVES it. in alterna, though, theyre all "i want the treasure and will absolutely fight you for it" rather than fanboying (fangirling? fansalmoning?) over them. meeting them more as equals since they're both splatsland bandits trying to make a living. they do a lot of teamups post-alterna, though more in the banditry sense than the music sense. levi absolutely gets all of their autographs

[queen-scribbles]

🍒 you know I love to enable you, plz gush about m&m 😛

Claire, I love you, thank you for enabling me <3

I think the bedrock of their friendship is the fact they both have a) a borderline nonexistent tolerance for bullshit, and b) a very high appreciation for the quiet. What really makes it flourish, and what the two them would probably point to as the reason they're friends, is that Mason doesn't coddle and Mallory doesn't ask to be.

Right from the start, no matter how nicely(or bluntly) they phrase it, the rest of the team is trying to protect her. Keeping her in the dark about Murphy, trying to keep her out of fighting, they're coddling her (is how she sees it). Doesn't matter that, y'know, supernaturals ARE way more powerful than humans and that they're doing it for good reason. Mallory's been underestimated her entire life for a variety of reasons and there's only so often you can hear variations of "not doubting your skills BUT sit this one out" before all you hear is the second part. Nothing hits her buttons faster than people(or vampires) thinking she can't handle something. So Mason being all "okay, fine, you wanna be part of this world? I'm not gonna lie to make you feel better, I'm not gonna hold back in combat training, I'm not gonna pretend you can do anything you can't, but you have our backs and I'll have yours" was bigtime friendship points from Mallory. She can do that, ofc she'll have their backs. And Mallory being so stubbornly determined to keep up, to throw herself at everything, to (more than) pull her weight as part of the team got her bigtime Mason friend points.

They also both enjoy a good fight, so having him help with sparring/combat training is a good--but very dangerous--call. xD She will run herself ragged trying to beat him, even if she knows, technically, for now, she can't. (She may desperately want a no-holds-barred sparring match with Adam when/if she goes vampire, but the same with Mason isn't far behind. would be hilarious if she can beat Adam but can't beat Mason bc Adam gets *cough* distracted😂) Mason doesn't pull his punches, verbally or physically, but also knows when to stop her so she doesn't hurt herself. (See Late Night Worry) I'm really sad that since she's romancing Adam I didn't get to see her and Mason teamed up for the Trapper fight in book 2 ngl. (Might be one of my favorite things about the Natemance AU for her; she got to kick ass with her bff. Not the actual romance or anything. She gets more Mason time in the AU bc of how Mishka splits up Bravo. 🤣🤣)

SPEAKING OF ROMANCE. Mason basically telling Adam "If you break her heart by being an idiot/ass I'm gonna take her side, you know that, right?" and Adam's response being "As you should" was PERFECTION. They've platonically bonded so hard he'd side with her over Adam, his friend/commanding officer for something like a century after less than a year. Truly peak brotp. I am fully prepared for Mallory to want to rip whoever's responsible for Mason's, uh. Mirror Backstory Stuff to absolute ribbons, even if she didn't see the mirror vision. Just SHRED them. Nothing left. (she might even be more vicious about it than Kasey? Just bc she's always 110% ready to throw hands--esp for people she cares about--and combat is a v low stat for Kasey xD)

And then you flip it in the Natemance AU and Mallory's the one dragging her feet and doing stupid shit like not admit she loves him even after she figures it out(Bobby was charming too. Doesn't matter that Nate's way sweeter and keep his promises, there's part off her that's terrified of getting hurt again), Mason calls her out on that. It may involve threatening to beat some sense into her and he's only half-joking. Hearing him be so no-nonsense about how dumb she's acting is part of her push to actually confess at the end of book 3 (Nate saving her from Anwir also killed any lingering doubts pretty dead).

My absolute favorite things about them, though, is they are 100% Grade A platonic love. Way back when I first thought about the Wayhaven RO Swap(best. decision. ever), I thought about just putting each of them with their respective bff(Kasey/Adam LMAO. The sarcasm would kill people. I might still try that ngl). Mallory/Mason is what killed that idea. They DO NOT work romantically. There's no romantic or sexual tension between them, which is impressive with Mason involved. xD Like, he'll definitely enjoy the view if she's in a crop top + leggings for training, and she is not immune to Arms™ if he's shirtless, but it's more... admiration/appreciation than attraction. They're just platonic soulmates and I love them so much.

[sp4rkzzy]

Sighs

FINE I'll make a post revealing him bc. He's brain rotting

Moon Morningstar.. cus. Yes. I had to used one of my names due to not finding a good one

Some gacha life 2 reference, along with old school doodles if him. (2nd one was a ship doodle. He's wearing vox's fit. 3rd one is a demon form idea, 4 is also.. kinda that. But just a rushed doodle. I don't like 4 that much..)

Uhh anyways. Yeah he has lore cus.. he wasn't originally a selfship OC but.

Not a lot there ofc but.. was silly :3

C/P from a message;

Back when his parents split, he insisted on staying with Lucifer so him and Lilith never got close

He ended up having his dad take him to different parts of hell, meeting the deadly sins

And then Ozzie gifted Fizz a asmodeus crystal n shit

So basically for a good while. Like 7 years. He traveled around hell himself and the human world

Than after the finale, Lilith had Lute approach him and force him to stay at the hotel, and spy for em (a deal)

So he did.. and bros struggling with this deal and trying not to hurt his sister 🗣️🗣️

Uh. Sometime during his stay, he found out about the vees from Angel and Husk, and forced Angel to take em to the studio..

Moon tried to fight Valentino, but ended up just getting to know the other two vees

And. Boom crush on Vox

[asterssunzephyr]

TP&TS!Nature Wives angst, maybe? 👀👀👀

THERES SO MUCH I COULD GIVE YOU OH MY GOD?? They are the main couple after all(..One of the only ones, actually. Looking at Desert Duo & ShadowBeans being split up bc one is dead.. then looks at NW & FH.. hm..)

CW: Alcohol, Bars

Implied gay thoughts about your best friend's best friend

Implied Flower Husbands

Implied Bisexual Ren

Implied Gay Thoughts™️ about tp&ts!Gem from tp&ts!Shelby

-----

"You hurt Jimmy, why are you in my house."

"To talk to you-"

"Talk?! What is there to talk about, Shelby?!"

"A lot! I didnt- I didnt mean to hurt him!"

"Then why did you?!"

"I dont know!"

"Bullshit! Get out of my house. Get out, and dont return."

"But-"

"Out. and give me the key back."

"Sweetheart-"

"Dont. You dont get to call me that anymore, leave."

He stared at her, at the way she still looked so ethereal while pissed at him, but gave the key up with a sigh. They had no right to stay here, not at 2 in the morning when Katherine probably just got back from the heroes base after working with Gem all night.

Okay, she didnt know if that last part was true but from how tense and stressed Katherine looked, Shelby assumed!.. They walked to the door and took one last look at the love of their life, friend, enemy her and left.

That night was spent in the closest bar to Katherines house since she didnt want to go half way across town to the small apartment in Boatem.

"What are you doing this far across town."

They shot their eyes up to the person who slid into the booth across from them. Brown eyes and blonde hair; Jimmy. Why was he in this bar?

"..I wanted to talk to Kat, she didnt wanna hear it. Didnt want to walk all the way back to Boatem at 2 am."

A sip of the liquor in the glass and Shelby finally looked the taller in the eyes.

"I get that," A sip from his own glass, "Scott dragged Gem and I here."

"Gem's here?"

"She is."

Shelby looked for the hint of a lie, but knew better. Jimmy would never lie about Gem's location, not when he cared about her like he does.

"Shelby!"

Another voice, and an arm around her shoulder. Scott, and Gem sliding into the booth on the other side next to Jimmy.

Now, Shelby knew 3 things about themself and their feelings:

1. They're hopelessly in love with Katherine

2. They liked women, and honestly women only

3. Feelings are confusing

One thing he didnt know, however, was to stop staring at Gem who currently looked outright beautiful. Now, she is one to lie quite often, but if shes calling someone beautiful, it's because she means it; well, gods be damned does Shelby mean it.

Apparently, Gem hasn't noticed the staring to they quickly focused on their hands and the drink in it before downing the rest of the glass and calling for another.

See, for a long time, Shelby's known about their feelings for women and how its nothing how Ren felt for women, or men. She's always struggled with feelings, and for a long time coming to terms with being asexual was a lot; dont get the poor guy wrong, hes hopelessly in love with Katherine and knows it, but goddamn does Gem look great.

-

He focused back in on the conversation when his 2nd, 3rd, fourth drink arrived and took a slow sip out of the glass. Just now, had Shelby realized, Katherine was there and glaring daggers from the end of the table. They made eye contact and Shelby knew she was in trouble, apparently so did Scott with how fast he moved to let Katherine take his place next to the short villain friend.

"How many have you had."

"Uh-"

"She's had four."

"You were keeping track?!"

"I have to drive Scott and Gem home, of course I have. Weve been here for two hours, Shelby."

"Two hours?!"

Shelby winced at Katherine basically yelling next to them. Yep, big trouble.

"Thats it, come on."

"Where are we going?"

"My house, so you can sober up and sleep."

"Im not drunk!"

"Do I look like I care?"

"Well- No, but-"

"No. Cmon."

Shelby stumbled out of the booth as Katherine dragged them and he waved bye to the trio who just waved back; Scott with a "knowing" smirk.

-

"Are you fucking stupid?!"

"What?"

"Going to a bar, alone, at two in morning?!"

"Like going to boatem wouldve been any better?"

"Not-.. Not what Im saying."

"I just needed to clear my head, Katherine."

"If you wouldve said something-"

"You wouldnt let me! You were so pissed off at me that you wouldnt let me speak!"

"So were both in the wrong!"

"What have I done?!"

"GO TO A BAR, ALONE."

"AND?"

"Gods be damned youre an idiot."

"I tried to talk to you! You wouldnt let me!"

"Then you shouldve told me to shut up!"

"And risk being punched in the face?! Look, Its happened once before and I dont take too kindly to having a busted lip!"

Katherine rolled her eyes and threw a hoodie, a yellow one, at them and stormed off. Shelby simply took this as a sign to go take a shower before Katherine sends her back outside.

------

They both go to sleep angry that morning:). Gem, and Scott, wake up with hangovers btw LMFAO

[ethereousdelirious]

Would you consider writing Klapollo? 👀 While I love some Apollo whump I'm a big fan of bullying Klavier, maybe he's allergic to flowers his adoring fans have sent him, or he's so burnt out from a recent tour his voice is all wrecked, and a blossoming cold isn't helping matters, both of which Apollo (somewhat begrudgingly) would help him with 💖 Klav is such a show off but his usually perfect appearance being ruined by circumstances outside of his control, maybe his hair is down, or in a ponytail or messy bun instead of its usual drill, avoiding Apollo when he usually /loves/ to tease him. Anyway. I'm rambling sorry 💀

🙇 bully klav gav pls

Wow wow my first time ever writing Kl.apollo :0 Thank you for being my guinea pig!

Wordcount: 1.5k

Warnings: A lil touch of mess? Not very messy, but like. It's not NOT there. (Kl.av sneezes into Ap.ollo's [clothed] chest lmao)

Notes: This is post AJ, presumably before DD. I didn't clarify bc it distracted from the snz, but I imagine this taking place at like. a community cente theater thing, like for a charity fundraiser or smth. Hence why Kl.av is performing solo.

Pre-slash, a lil heavy on the UST. Apollo may be on the cusp of learning something new about himself (👃🏼)

N-E-way, I hope you like it! My first time writing for a pairing is always a challenge, so I'd definitely like to revisit these 2 in the future (maybe even this same concept bc. there's so much K.lavier-wrecking that can be done 👀)

Klavier's sneeze announced his presence before anything else. The sudden "hk'TCHEH!" punched the air, scaring Apollo's disordered thoughts back to darker corners of his brain.

Right.

He was being silly.

He looked around the dressing room, straightening his shirt despite himself. Klavier had arranged his belongings into orderly piles, though the room still felt cramped. There was no glamor, no mystique in the white walls and humming yellow fluorescents.

He'd waited in Klavier's dressing rooms before. It wasn't that strange.

The door creaked open a crack, then a little more. Klavier's blond head peered in, and the smile on his face looked strained, somehow. "Herr Forehea— Hhheehh—" He wrinkled tje bridge of his nose and something about it made Apollo relax all at once. "I— Ach…" He wiggled his nose like a rabbit, tears sparkling in his lashes, then stopped abruptly. "Could you help me with the door, please?"

"Right!" Apollo leapt up and grabbed it, swinging it open so Klavier could come in. "Are you okay?"

The answer was obvious now. Klavier held a crystal vase in both his hands. Flowers exploded from the top of it, out to the sides, in all variety of colors and shapes. Yellow pollen floated in the water and dusted Klavier's face where the stamens had rubbed against his skin.

Klavier's nose wrinkled again, the delicate skin creasing up in straight little lines. Like a maze only Apollo could solve. His gleaming lips parted, wafting the smell of cherry lip gloss over the fragrance of flower's for a fleeting moment. "Ahh… hhk'kTSCH!" His body rocked forward, sloshing water up toward the edge of the vase.

The force of his exhalation sent a great plume of pollen into the air and Apollo winced. "Uh, Gesundheit?"

"Vielen Dank," Klavier said drily, and Apollo tried not to shudder. "What, ah…" He smiled at Apollo, blinking tears out of his eyes. This dulled some of the resplendent dazzle of him, but none of the charm, and Apollo bit his lip. Klavier sniffled. "What did you think of the show?"

"Too loud," Apollo said bluntly. He held out his hands for the vase. "Here, let me take that."

"'Too loud,'" Klavier repeated. "You're one to t-tal—" He froze for a split second too long, mouth hanging open. "KkH'TSCH! Ugh…"

Apollo hefted the vase and forced himself not to stare at Klavier. "Maybe I should throw these out…" He stared at the pristine flowers and the pollen dusting the leaves. It was all over his hands now.

Klavier shook his head and motioned for Apollo to set them down. "They, hhh— They were a gift," he explained breathlessly, artfully arranging himself in a chair. "From the event organizers." He scrunched up his nose between words like it itched.

Apollo couldn't help but stare. "Well, yeah, but—"

Klavier smiled again, that spotlight grin that made Apollo feel like the center of the universe. How he could help but cringe away from it? How could he help but lower his eyes? "They're lovely flowers, Herr Justice. I'm keeping th— ahK'TSCHEH!" 

"Gesundheit."

"Mm." Klavier was still for a moment, perfectly still. The lights made his lips glimmer, and his eyes, and his nose. His cheeks had broken out in a flush.

Apollo licked his lips.

The sight before him was unreal, a weeping Madonna in gold, in purple, in delicate pink and gorgeous brown. Here was Klavier Gavin as few had seen him.

This last sneeze had caused his hair to come loose and fall around his shoulders in ringlets and smears of pollen made lines upon his cheeks.

And.

He was still perfect.

Klavier blinked hard and touched his fingertips beneath one eye. They came away black with eyeliner. He closed off all at once, his posture stiffening. When he laughed, the sound was stiff and humorless. "I must look frightening right now," he said.

The gentle self-deprecation rang too true. Apollo swallowed hard. And even worse than that, Klavier's shoulders now shook.

"Hhk'TSCHF! Ahk'TSHEH!" He bent double in the chair, aiming his desperate, breathy sneezes at the floor between his legs. "Kk'KSTSXH! EkH'TSCH!"

A moment stretched out between them.

Klavier hid his eyes behind his hand, his breathing wet and unsteady.

"...you done?" Apollo asked feebly. When Klavier didn't move, he half-rose. "Hey, Kl‐ Gavin?

Klavier gestured vaguely with his free hand, shooing Apollo away. "Don't look at me."

In any other situation, it might have been a joke. Vain Prosecutor Gavin, rockstar, unable to stomach the idea of being seen in any state of dishevelment. As it was, his voice trembled and fell flat.

"Hey, it's just me." Spying a box of tissues on the vanity, Apollo grabbed a handful and nudged Klavier's knee. "Here, blow your nose."

Klavier took the tissues and scrubbed at his face with them and blew his nose with an airy hiss that didn't sound at all satisfying.

"D'you really want me to leave?" Apollo asked, trying hard not to sound half as crushed as he felt.

"I just..." Klavier sounded very young when he spoke. "I can't imagine I'm very pleasant company right— heh…" He sniffled hard behind the tissues. "Right now."

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

Klavier peered at him over the tissues. His eyeliner had run and smudged, drawing black moons beneath the pink rims of his irritated eyes. He blinked and a few more tears streamed past, landing in the tissues. "Don't I look like a mess?" he asked, searching Apollo's face.

"I mean." Apollo considered him again. Watery pink eyes, messy makeup, hair falling around his shoulders like some kind of Norse god. "A little I guess? So what?"

A hint of pink surged up Klavier's cheeks, bypassing the tissues. It didn't stand out much against the gentle brown of his skin, but Apollo's sharp eyes picked it up anyway. "Doesn't it bother y— hhHK'TSHEH!"

Apollo sighed and stood up. "Not as much as those sneezes do."

They were big, roaring things that bent Klavier double every time. As befitting a rockstar, but they sounded painful.

Klavier answered with another gasp behind the tissues. "Heh—! Hehk'schCH!"

"C'mon, sit up." Apollo snatched up and handful of tissues and tilted Klavier's chin upward. Startled, watering eyes blinked at him, the fluorescents making bright rectangles across deep blue irises. Apollo dabbed at Klavier's eyes and cheeks, bringing up black eyeliner and yellow pollen in irregular splotches. Folding the tissues, he moved downward to Klavier's nose, careful not to irritate the delicate skin.

Still, Klavier twitched and scrunched up his nose. "Careful, A-Apoll—" His chest hitched with stuttering gasps, the skin beneath either nostril gleaming. His breath left his mouth in one brief exhale. "Gah—"

Apollo bit his lip. His fist had clenched around the tissues, ripping them beneath the blunt ends of his nails. "Sorry," he breathed.

Klavier tucked his hair behind his ears and looked around.

"What do you need?" Apollo asked. Seeing Klavier like this— sheepish, exposed— had stirred something in him. He couldn't let Klavier feel so ashamed of something he couldn't help.

"A hair tie, if you can find one." Still, Klavier kept his face turned away, eyes down.

Apollo found one on the vanity and brought it over. At the kast second, he also grabbed a package of makeup wipes. "Here, Ga— Uh." His face warmed. "Klavier."

He watched Klavier tie his hair back in a messy bun, golden locks framing his face. But when Klavier looked inquiringly at the makeup wipes, Apollo shook his head. "Let me help."

Klavier's mouth twitched. "Herr Forehead thinks he's a pro at taking off makeup?"

"Wh— N-no, of course not!" Apollo stammered. The sudden reappearance of Klavier's easy smile calmed him for once instead of riling him up further and he exhaled. "I just want to help."

"Oh?" Klavier spread his legs, sinking down a little in the chair, and all the smudged makeup blurring his features could not censor the brief, lascivious look that flashed across his face. "Then come help."

There was the confidence that Apollo loathed and loved in equal measure. But was it real? Or was Klavier merely posturing because he felt ashamed?

Apollo's cheeks burned regardless and he had to make a conscious effort to unclench the muscles in his thighs before he could take his position in front of Klavier.

He took Klavier's chin in his hand. "Hold still."

As with the tissues, he started with the eyes. Stubborn lines of black still clung to Klavier's lash lines, intensifying his gaze. His eyes were deep blue, mottled with lighter and darker shades closer to his pupils.

Apollo swallowed and moved on to the cheeks, but found no salvation there. The light layer of foundation rubbed away to reveal gentle lines where Klavier smiled, where he wrinkled his nose, and little brown freckles scattered down the bridge of his nose.

Apollo swiped the makeup wipe down Klavier's nose like he could mop them up and Klavier gasped a little. "Careful there—!"

Ah, yes. Prosecutor Gavin and his sensitive nose.

"Sorry," Apollo said, swiping away one last smear of pollen that had clung to the outer edge of Klavier's nostril.

"Apollo!" was all he managed before a sneeze rammed his head solidly into Apollo's chest. "Hhk'KSCH! " The sudden expulsion of breath warmed the skin of Apollo's chest, though not as much as the delayed realization that Klavier was shaking his head a little, rubbing his nose against Apollo's dress shirt. "Kk'tsXch!" Another burst of warmth.

Of their own accord, Apollo's hands found the back of Klavier's head. He rested them there gently, tracing things line of soft hair leading up toward Klavier's bun.

"Get me out of here," Klavier mumbled into Apollo's dress shirt. A moment later, he stiffened and pulled back, staring at Apollo's chest with wide eyes. "I— Your shirt—"

"It's okay." Apollo didn't bother to look down and assess the damage. "Let's get you home."

How could be even a little upset when Klavier was staring at him with those wide, wide eyes? When the strands of hair that had freed themselves from his bun sparkled in the lights? When cheeks burned pink with exertion and embarrassment? How could Apollo ever, ever hold a grudge?

Even if his shirt felt a little clammy now, well… He'd deal with it later.

For now, he had a Prosecutor to look after.

[doukeshi-kun]

Haiii ^-^☆ cute face annon (ִ•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅) here!!

I wanted to share some cute and not so cute hcs that I have of our muse (Nikolai) :3

I talked a lot about him with curly or wavy hair and hzoakabsks I'm crazy about this hc!!!!! I love it when artists draw him with his hair like this and not with straight licked hair full of straightening

Nikolai would definitely be MUSCULAR imagine him having a chiseled body but not that much but enough to have defined abs and booba (🤤) I also think his thighs also have some muscles too duuhh and i fantasize a lot about him having a big ass...

OH OH AND HE ALSO HAS SLIGHTLY SPLIT TEETH!!! IT MUST BE SO CUTE HIM LAUGHING AND SMILING LIKE AN INSANE MANIAC AND THEN HAS 2 TEETH SEPARATED IN FRONT SAYING 'HAIII >.<' AND AND THEY ARE HXISJSBAOA CUTIES !!! Obviously it wouldn't be something that separate, but just a little bit that doesn't harm our boy.

he also has several scars all over his body and I think that in addition to the scar on his eye he has a small one on his mouth.. and the skin on his face is smooth and soft, I think he would have some small acne scars and small pores near the nose, but nothing that is frightening !!!

the hairs that grow on his body are white like his hair and are slightly curly, but they are not thick and not in great quantity, he has a little on his arms and legs, on his chest and a happy trail that goes from his navel to his glock, but he always trims them, but they're a charm too...

idk why but i think he would wear lip gloss or mascara...

he came from a poor family but I don't think he had mommy/daddy issues, it was a happy family until something happened, obviously. I also think that everyone in his family is beautiful, mainly his mom, his mother must have such big tits...

i think it would be wrong for me to hcs that he is neurodivergent because some people might think i'm 'romanticizing' or something, but for me he definitely has adhd and something like borderline...

more hcs soon (＞。☆) ~

first, about the hair — yeah i agree his hair isn't fully straight. i mean, the man isn't straight himself so🤷🏻‍♀️ and i find messy hair suits him and men more bcs they look sexy ehe

i don't think nikolai is muscular as fuck like toji ehgehehs but he does have refined muscles. not too obvious and not too subtle. it's there and firm. but i think his upper body is smaller than his lower half. like man got thighs. MAN GOT DEM THIGHS. HE CLENCHES HIS BALLS WITH HIS THIGHS WHEN HE SITS

and his ass will look square. idk dude's asses always look square asf. we can do pythagoras theorem on their asses

i think he has sharp canine teeth too. would look cuter.

and i agree with the acne scars hsgdhshs maybe not too obvious bcs i believe nikolai likes to make sure he looks clean as much as possible. maybe the area around his right eye is cleaner than any of the part on his face because he tends to cover it with his eyepatch.

HAPPY TRAIL hsgshshdjs nikolai's happy trail makes everyone happy <3 and yeh i don't think he shaves his body hair 100% smooth. he just trims it. maybe braids it too if he's feeling goofy

i don't think he wears mascara. but lip balm and lip gloss is likely. i think he likes the taste of flavoured lip gloss and sometimes he unconsciously licks his lips when he wears it (no i am NOT projecting😤)

he doesn't look like someone who has mommy/daddy issues, yeah. i do think he comes from poor family or at least, a family with unfortunate situation. i am not sure if his family is loving, but it's a nice possibility! not every morally grey character needs tragic family to justify their action and i think it will be beautiful regardless to his character if it's revealed that he suddenly feels living is brainwashing and decides to murder people to prove himself

and idk bout his mom uh you do you ig

i'm not sure he's neurodivergent. i don't wanna say something about the topic bcs i am not neurodivergent (or maybe i am idfk bro i don't go to doctors, i believe in warm lemon tea and ointment oil to cure flu so)