#the dork watches blue seed

[dorksidefiker]

It took me all of three episodes before I needed a prolonged break from the dub.

[cnnmairoll]

First Flower

Pairing : Gepard x Reader Genre : Fluff, Domestic Summary : Amidst the blooming flowers of their shared home garden, you and Gepard's love blossomed, nurturing not only the vibrant petals but also a profound and enduring connection between two hearts. a/n : this fic is part of The Domestic Things They Do With You so feel free to check out what other character will be there! Hopefully I could write one daily

In the heart of the serene town of Belobog, where the sun always seemed to shine a little brighter and the air felt a tad bit sweeter, you found yourself entwined with the life of Gepard, the valiant captain of the Silvermane Guards. With fair skin, piercing blue eyes, and golden locks that shimmered like the rays of the morning sun, Gepard was not just known for his impressive appearance, but also for his unyielding dedication to his duty.

Though he commanded his troops with precision and was an unparalleled warrior in the realm, outside the battlefield, he revealed a side that few were privy to witness – a side that was as endearing as it was unexpected. Gepard was a dork, a genuine and adorable dork. Clumsy with mundane tasks, he struggled to navigate through the simplest of chores, garnering him an undeniable charm that melted hearts.

One bright morning, as the flowers began to bloom and birds serenaded the world, the idea sparked between you and Gepard to create a small home garden together. The notion of nurturing life, watching it flourish under your care, resonated deeply with both of you. And so, armed with seeds, shovels, and a shared love for nature, you set off to carve a garden of your own.

The sun illuminated Gepard's blond hair as he bent over, planting the tiny seeds with meticulous care. Despite his warrior exterior, he handled the delicate seeds like treasures, his large hands cradling them gently. You watched, a smile tugging at your lips, as his brow furrowed in concentration. The determination in his eyes was a stark contrast to the vulnerability he unknowingly displayed.

As the days turned into weeks, you and Gepard devoted yourselves to your budding garden. With each sunrise, you'd find yourselves outside, watering the plants, pulling out weeds, and sharing laughter as you exchanged anecdotes about your lives. You discovered that Gepard had a particular affinity for flowers, much to your delight. He confessed that he had attempted to grow them before, but his efforts often ended in disappointment.

Your heart swelled with affection as you watched him struggle. Gepard was so adept on the battlefield, facing foes with unwavering strength, but here, in the realm of petals and leaves, he was humble and earnest. You reassured him that gardening was an art, a dance with nature that required patience and understanding.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky painted itself with shades of orange and pink, you found Gepard kneeling beside a patch of soil. His shoulders slumped, his expression crestfallen. He had tried once again to grow a flower, only to be met with failure.

With a soft smile, you approached him, your hand resting on his shoulder. "Don't give up, sweetheart. Remember, every gardener faces setbacks. It's all a part of the journey."

He looked up at you, his blue eyes reflecting a mixture of frustration and gratitude. "I know, but it's frustrating. I just want to see something beautiful grow under my care."

You kneeled beside him, taking the seed packet he held in his hand. With gentle fingers, you helped him plant the seeds, guiding him through the process. "It's not about getting it right on the first try. It's about learning and improving. And I promise, one day, you'll see the most beautiful flower you've ever grown."

Days turned into weeks, and with each passing moment, your bond with Gepard deepened. The garden became a canvas of your shared efforts, a testament to your patience and your belief in the beauty that could arise from even the smallest of seeds.

And then, one morning, as the sun stretched its arms across the sky, you both witnessed a sight that stole your breath away. Amongst the blossoms and leaves, a single flower stood tall and proud – vibrant petals painted in hues of blue and purple. Gepard's flower had bloomed.

His eyes widened in awe, and a smile tugged at his lips. "I... I can't believe it. It actually grew."

You wrapped your arm around his, your heart swelling with pride for him. "See? I told you, Gepard. It just needed time, care, and a little bit of faith."

Gepard's gaze lingered on the flower, his fingers tracing the delicate petals as if he couldn't quite believe his own accomplishment. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and wonder.

A soft breeze rustled the leaves around you, carrying with it the scent of blooming flowers and the promise of new beginnings. You leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his presence beside you. "You did this, Honey. You nurtured this garden with your own hands and heart. It's a testament to your dedication and love."

He turned to look at you, his blue eyes locking onto yours. There was a depth to his gaze, a silent understanding that seemed to bridge the gap between words. Without another word, he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a gentle kiss. It was a kiss that held a world of emotions – the joy of success, the tenderness of shared moments, and the promise of a future yet to unfold.

As you pulled away, a blush graced Gepard's cheeks, his eyes sparkling with affection. "I couldn't have done it without you," he admitted, his voice carrying a touch of vulnerability that made your heart flutter.

You smiled, reaching up to brush a strand of his blond hair behind his ear. "And I couldn't have done it without you either. We make a great team, Gepard."

He chuckled softly, his fingers intertwined with yours. "I guess we do."

The garden became more than just a collection of plants – it became a symbol of your shared journey, a testament to the growth you had experienced together. Each day brought new discoveries, both about the garden's intricacies and about each other. With Gepard's dedication and your guidance, the garden flourished into a place of beauty and tranquility.

As the seasons shifted and time flowed onward, your love for each other continued to bloom just like the flowers in your garden. The garden became a haven for stolen moments – romantic picnics under the shade of blooming trees, stolen kisses amidst the fragrant petals, and heartfelt conversations that stretched long into the night.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the garden, Gepard knelt down beside the first flower he had successfully grown. His fingers brushed over the petals lovingly, his eyes filled with a sense of accomplishment and wonder. "It's amazing how something so delicate can become so strong with the right care."

You sat down beside him, your fingers intertwining with his. "Just like love, Gepard. It takes time, patience, and nurturing, but it can bloom into something truly beautiful."

He turned to you, his gaze soft and tender. "I'm grateful for you, more than I can express."

Leaning in, you pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. "And I'm grateful for you, Gepard. You've shown me a side of you that's as captivating as it is endearing."

In that moment, as the last rays of the sun painted the sky in shades of pink and orange, you both knew that your love story was just beginning. With the garden as a backdrop, you shared a love that had grown from the smallest of seeds into something magnificent – a love that would continue to flourish and bloom, just like the flowers you had nurtured together. And in the embrace of nature's beauty, you and Gepard found a home for your hearts, forever entwined in a love that was as strong as it was tender.

[angelfoodcake222]

Human[disguised]!Cupid!Wally x Heartsick!Reader

Cupid!Wally belongs to @fetusmeme, so please check them out.

⚠️TW [Trigger Warning]: eyestrain from the gif below, heartbreak aftermath, aggressive behavior, [initial] denial of romance due to bad experiences, foul attitude, animosity for Valentine's Day, single G/N reader.

Heartsick: adj. lit. despondent, typically from grief or loss of love. Synonyms; sick at heart, in low spirits, forlorn, dejected, heartbroken, wretched, woebegone, sad, etc.

Ugh! Valentine's Day. Could your now-Ex have picked the worst date to dump you? No! It just had to be the day, the one, single day out of the miserable 365 per year set specifically for couples? Ya know, the one you had foolishly marked on your calender with sparkly, puffy heart stickers? Yeah, that damn day. To rub salt in the wound, you had to work your day job; a florist/cashier for the local shop. Ironic, isn't it? You had to do it on your own since your boss was out with their partner too. You did the usual things that were expected, swept the heads of some poor roses into the trashcan, organized the blooms, check out the paying people who came in to buy bouquet after bouquet their sweethearts, yadda, yadda.

"Same kissy, sappy junk, different day."

You slouched over the cashier counter, already finished with the day's work & awaiting closing time while gently plucking the seeds out of your chosen blooms to grow in your backyard's personal garden. Like several times today, the bell to the front door signaled on its string to indicate a last-minute customer. You only had a mere ten minutes before you closed, so you bucked up & read off of your mental greeting script in an even tone. Not a sweet one, just even.

"My, oh my! You sound so lonely! Mind if I kept you company?" a smooth, lulling voice drew your attention from your delicate hobby in favor of the man that stood on the receiving side of the counter. Before you stood a seemingly Latino fellow with his blue-dyed hair styled into a pronounced pompadour. His black-trimmed red suit, like the rest of himself, stood out boldly against the faded cream-beige tiles of the environment. His collection made the hues positively pop in the bland, scarcely bloom-clad scene behind him.

"Mm, 'lonely' isn't the right word here, sir." Your tone never shifts, unlike your hands that swipe the organized seeds of your efforts from the countertop to the labeled jars you stash in your hanging bookbag. Once the zipper is replaced, you turn to him. He was quiet, polite, almost genteel. Anyone who snags him would be the luckiest person in town. A lovely thought, but not one by your downtrodden mind.

"If you're looking for cards, we're just about out of them. Same with flowers. We have Chrysanthemums, daffodils, dahlias, daisies, & lilacs." You gesture to the thinned racks of blooms from behind your counter, almost missing the man's focused gaze on you. Almost. His smile is seemingly warm & welcoming, slightly waking your heart from its huffy slumber before speaking. He says he's made a short list of what blooms he'd like & that you could stay behind the counter to continue your seed gathering while he poked around a bit.

Fine. Good enough for you. From your separated place, you watched him methodically choose his blooms without damaging them. The colorful blooms slowly built into a bouquet of meanings: Red Chrysanthemums, orange & yellow daffodils, pink & white Dahlias, some Baby's Breath you hadn't spotted until he tenderly tucked them into the bundle, then topped it off with a few magenta lilacs that were half bloomed. Sure, you were a symbolism-loving dork, but your soured mood barely lifted as he carried the bushel of symbolic representations to the counter.

With a tug, twist & snip, the flowers were ready to see the outside world again. You bid him a flat goodbye with the wave to match & he practically bounces out the door. Your phone chimes to alert you, signaling the end of your day-long shift & your equally day-long-desired return home. One uneventfully timely bicycle ride later, you arrive home, in a wooded area away from everyone & everything excepting local fauna & flora. Your spokes clack as you slow ahead of your bungalow.

The splotch of lively color on your headstone grey [front]door drew your attention to not just its blooms you had helped tie together resting in a sturdy vase, but to the seasonally hued, lace-stringed message as well. It read as a sort of romantic confession mixed with an apology note; the writer states he's felt many things about you & how sad he was when news of your breakup reached him.

He invited you to a short walk through the local park to talk over respective beverages &/or snacks possibly followed by lunch/dinner, should you agree. You gaped in disbelief for a moment before swooping up the vase & making a beeline for your garden where you felt safest. You were just dumped, were you really about to open your heart to another guy after it was freshly broken?

You sat there, staring at the positive blooms, their messages reading bold & true with the male's energy radiating from them. Your mind drifted to how carefully he coddled the bouquet in his arms when he carried them to you for finalizing. His warm aura your habitually cold shoulder fizzed against. Jeez! The more you think about it the more guilt prodded at what was left of your feelings. You give them fresher water & a little plant food before distracting yourself with homely tasks. By the time you were done, you had seated yourself at the table beside the blooms & their note.

Maybe a little time outside the house is just what the doctor ordered?

[monstersandmaw]

Male vampire x male character - Part Two (nsfw) (Halloween ‘surprise’ Patreon story).

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

I'm really pleased that you and my Patrons enjoyed the first part, and that folks were keen for more. I’ve had more interaction with this post on Patreon than many of the others, which is surprising given how mlm stories are usually much less in demand than m/f ones. Thanks for that!

Anyway, here's more of our favourite oblivious dork Alec and his obviously-not-a-vampire crush... Part Three is on the way too (tomorrow), despite this having been planned as a quick porn-without-plot one-shot, as it were. Oh well?!

Hope you enjoy.

Part One

After his initial - admittedly strange - meetings with Sebastien, Alec didn’t see him on campus at all for the rest of the week, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. Yes, the guy had been a bit of a pompous arsehole in the library, but he’d made up for it by coming to the art room and apologising, engaging him in conversation — even if that conversation had been slightly… odd? — and being so god-damn-fucking beautiful too.  

He overheard his students gossiping about ‘Dr. Dulac’ earlier that afternoon while they all carved the pumpkins he’d bought for them at the local supermarket, and it seemed that the general consensus was that Sebastien was single, unfailingly polite (even in the face of Janette Hilton, the English Department’s longest-serving and least sympathetic lecturers), hotter than any celebrity you cared to name, and a specialist in the poets of the First World War like Sassoon and Brooke, among other more esoteric interests.  

After an hour of clock-watching in his tiny little office in the Art Department on Friday, he abandoned all hope of concentrating on his last few bits of admin, and shut down his laptop. After clearing up yet more pumpkin seeds that he’d somehow missed on the last two sweeps he’d done of the studio, he stepped outside, never wanting to see another bloody thing again. Too bad he had a whole bloody cardboard box of them waiting to go into the boot of Kay’s car for her party that night. Still, he was almost sinfully proud of the carvings he’d done on them. One was decorated the whole way around with the foliate style engravings usually reserved for the steel on antique guns, with different depths to create the highlights and shadows, and another particularly spherical one had been cut away in squares to resemble the Death Star.  

The October air outside bit into his lungs as he drew a deep breath - the spicy, fragrantly damp scents of autumn filling his nose - and his eye was drawn to the twinkling lights of the little coffee cart that still lingered in the park, selling tea, coffee, and hot chocolate to chilly students leaving the university campus for the night. With a black coffee for himself in one hand, he made his way to the Engineering Department, warily holding another frothy concoction in his other. It was apparently called a ‘London fog’ and it smelled of earl grey tea and lavender. He thought it sounded (and smelled) disgusting, but Kay perked right up when he deposited it on her desk five minutes later.  

“Bless you, Alec Twayblade,” she grinned, taking the plastic lid off and inhaling it like it was the best thing she’d ever smelled. “Oh my god. How can you not like this?” she said after taking a huge gulp and moaning obscenely.  

Alec didn’t bother to reply, his eye-roll speaking volumes anyway. They’d had this discussion so many times that they were both probably playing it out silently in their heads right that second. When Kay glanced up and saw that he certainly was, she snorted and grinned. “I love you, Alec,” she laughed. “You’re still coming tonight?”

“Against my better judgement,” he growled, leaning his weight on her desk and folding his arms across his battered, blue cable knit sweater. He had a huge daub of yellow paint on one elbow from that morning, and a small burn hole in the bottom from a failed attempt at pyrography a few years ago. It was the most comfortable jumper he owned, and he would probably wear it until it unravelled around him.  

“You’re still not going to wear a costume, are you?” she added as she stood, pouting.  

He shook his head. “I draw the line at that.”

“But you’d be so good making one!” she countered. “You helped me with that bat costume when we were at high school… Don’t you remember how fucking awesome it was?”

“I do,” he chuckled. “But I’m not going to wear one myself.”

She sighed, shoulders slumping. “Too much attention, huh?” she said softly. “Well, you know you’ll stand out more if you’re not wearing one tonight…?”

He shrugged. Honestly, he just couldn’t be bothered to dress up. Halloween had rather lost its shine for him anyway. “Not if I hide in the kitchen all night and make too-strong cocktails for everyone,” he said, flashing her his most roguish grin. “Plus, I spent much of today carving pumpkins with nattering eighteen year olds who are far too old to be carving pumpkins on academic time, but —”

“— you’re an awesome teacher who understands the need to let off some steam on the holidays,” she interjected. “Plus, it’s good practice anyway… working with a new medium…”

He allowed his lips to pinch upwards into a tiny smirk and let her have that one. “It’s nice to see them having fun,” was all he said.  

An hour or so later, just as he arranged the last of the pumpkins down the garden path of Kay's Victorian semi-detached house, a voice murmured from behind him, “I can see the hand of a master at work in these carvings.”

Not having heard anyone approaching, Alec jumped, cursed, and dropped the pumpkin - thankfully with the candle still unlit. It rolled in a semicircle until a black boot gently stopped it, and a familiar face dipped into view as the owner of the boot bent to pick it up. To his surprise, it was Sebastien, and he was in costume. Probably anyway. Hopefully? Fuck. Alec’s brain stalled at the sight of him.  

His eyes raked up Sebastien’s body and his jaw went quite literally slack.  

The slender man was wearing thigh-high boots and leather pants so tight they had to have been spray-painted on, into which was tucked a loose, old-fashioned, white shirt with a good bit of flounce at the collar. “Holy shit,” he whispered, and Sebastien chuckled softly, a low, amused sound in the back of his throat.  

“You recognise the costume?” he asked, seeming innocently amused. The long, dark coat, accented with gold brocade and bright gold buttons, opened briefly in a soft gust of wind that made the lit pumpkins flicker and lifted his loose, silver-white hair back for a breath as well.  

“I…” he swallowed. “Uh, you’re Alucard,” he croaked. “From the Castlevania games…” A wry incline of Sebastien’s head told him he was correct, and then Alec blurted stupidly, “Shouldn’t you be shirtless though?”

Sebastien’s smile grew from pleased to deeply amused, his eyes glittering, and it was only then that Alec noticed the contacts burning a bright gold in his eyes and, as his lips peeled back and Sebastien began to laugh, he saw long, tapering, white canines befitting a vampire costume. “It’s a little cold for that, don’t you think?” Sebastien asked, still laughing quietly as Alec flushed crimson.  

“Sorry,” he blurted. “I know. I just… forget it.”

“Where do you want it?” Sebastien asked, and Alec’s poor brain went blank.  

“What?”

“The pumpkin,” Sebastien deadpanned and Alec’s poor, blank brain melted out of his ears with embarrassment.  

“Uh… there’s fine,” he said, pointing at the little wrought-iron garden gate.  

Sebastien placed the pumpkin down on the flagstone path so that the carved graveyard scene glimmered and flickered with appropriate spookiness, visible to anyone approaching along the quiet, suburban street. Enormous London plane trees stood sentry every few paces, heaving up the tarmac pavement with their roots, like a sleeper shifting a blanket with a restless turn, and sheltering the cars snuggled and parked beneath them. A carpet of leaves clung to the gutter in a long, golden line, melting into nothing in places in the glittering puddles. It would have been beautiful, had Alec not been faced with quite literally the most beautiful thing in the entire universe.  

“Am I early then?” Sebastien asked, dusting off his palms and turning back to face Alec, who had barely managed to make his legs work long enough to stand up straight again.  

He shook his head. “No. Henry’s inside already,” he said, running his fingers through his scruffy black hair. “With Rachel and Alison. I just forgot to put the pumpkins out earlier.”

“No costume?”  

With a roll of his eyes, he shook his head. “Nope.”

“Too bad,” Sebastien said, eyeing the front door. The contacts were really creepy, shifting in the light that spilled down the stairs as the front door suddenly opened and Kay stepped out before he could worry that he’d been the only one to dress up. He could probably brush it off anyway, Alec supposed, and tried not to envy the man’s quiet confidence.

Silhouetted starkly against the hall light, with her high ‘Dracula’ collar on prominent display, Kay shrieked with glee and clapped her hands when she saw Sebastien. Apparently the two of them had been getting along rather well, while Alec had sequestered himself away in the Art Department like an ascetic.  

“Bastien! You look amazing oh my god!” she blurted, rushing forwards a step or two before halting abruptly. “Wait, does that make me your father for the evening?” she cackled. “Wow, your teeth are really good! Mine wouldn't stay in for more than a few minutes…”

Sebastien’s gold eyes flickered sideways to Alec but it happened so briefly that he almost missed it. “Custom made a long time ago,” was all he said. “Shall we go inside? It’s freezing out here.”

“Yes, of course, come on in,” she said, waving them all inside, Sebastien first. As Alec passed her last, she slapped him hard on the backside in rebuke and hissed, “Told you you should have worn a costume! You look like a big dumbo!”

“No different from any other night,” he quipped back, and she growled something indistinct at him. Perhaps a werewolf costume would have suited her better. “You could have told me you’d invited Dulac…”

“Why?” she retorted. “So you could suddenly decide that an evening moping alone with your PS4 playing Rocket League with strangers was more appealing? No fucking chance. Get inside. Sebastien’s right; I’m freezing my tits off.”

The distant murmur of voices in the living room made him veer off instinctively into the kitchen, and while they began to watch some old Hammer horror film, he made drinks. That, at least, he was good at.  

Entering a while later, he found that Sebastien was seated on the sofa beside Henry, who wore an enormously fluffy wolfman costume - mostly a repurposed Chewbacca onesie with a latex wolf mask. He’d pushed the mask up onto his head in order to eat the Halloween themed nibbles on the coffee table, and the effect rendered him entirely ridiculous. Another reason not to wear a costume: it’s impractical, and gets in the way, and washing ketchup out of matted fake fur is a nightmare. Alison and Rachel sat practically in each other’s laps, one a zombie and the other a ghost, both squeezed into one groaning old armchair.  

After half an hour of Christopher Lee’s admittedly creepy Dracula, Alec slid from his seat at the periphery, and ducked out again into the kitchen. Straightening from fishing a beer from the back of the fridge, he heard the soft click of the door and turned to find Sebastien standing there.  

“Get bored with late 1950’s horror too?” Alec asked. “Beer?”

Sebastien inclined his head in a way that said he wasn’t a beer drinker and held up his almost-empty wineglass as an excuse as he moved a little closer. “If you don’t like cheesy horror films, and you don’t seem to like Halloween either, I wonder why you came at all tonight?”

“For Kay,” he said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “She loves this shit.”

At that, Sebastien paused, a delicate smile on his face. In the soft glow of the under-cupboard lighting, his tanned skin seemed to shimmer, and Alec wondered fleetingly if he’d put some kind of glittery body powder on. Next, he wondered what on earth Sebastien was doing in here with him, looking at him like that.  

“You are a good friend,” Sebastien said quietly, seeming perhaps a little sad around the edges.  

“She’s done more than her fair share of looking after me,” Alec sighed knowingly. “Not that I’m doing it because I owe her,” he added, twisting the cap off the bottle and leaning back against the counter to drink deeply from it. As the malty froth washed over his tongue, he felt eyes on him and looked over at the other man.  

Sebastien tilted his head slightly to the side, the false golden light in his eyes making him look like a cat in the dark. “You said she was trying to set you up with someone…”

Alec snorted, nearly shooting beer out of his nose. “Yeah. Well, she seems to think a good fuck will sort my mood out.”

“But you think otherwise?”

“You offering?” he asked bitterly, taking another swig and feeling uncharacteristically bold, though absolutely not expecting the answer he got.  

“Perhaps.”

His eyebrows shot up and this time he did cough a little. “You can’t be serious.”

“You think someone who looks like me is entirely straight?” he asked with a wry smile, and Alec had to hand it to him. Not many men he knew could pull of long, luscious, white-blond hair like that, or would have the confidence to wear fucking thigh-high boots and whisper-tight leather pants…

“Still… you don’t really know me… That’s all I meant…”

“Doesn't mean one couldn’t engage in — how did you call it? — ‘a good fuck’. Not that I’m averse to getting to know you better, before or after.”

Alec swallowed another enormous gulp of frothing beer and blinked. “You’re serious?”

With a melodramatic smile that revealed his vampire teeth clearly, ‘Alucard’ purred, “Deadly.”

And Alec burst out laughing. The spell was shattered and the two men shared the remnants of their drinks and their laughter together before Alec sighed. “Your place or mine?”

At that, Sebastien seemed to falter, as if he hadn’t thought through to that point. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “I assume yours would be alright?”

Alec shrugged. “Sure, if you don’t mind smacking your head on the ceiling and being able to touch two opposite walls at the same time…”

Sebastien’s lips hitched into another wry smile. “I’ve fucked in tighter spaces, I’m sure.”

“You know what?” Alec said as he rinsed out the beer bottle at the sink and half-turned to look at the other man over his shoulder. “You’re absolutely not what I expected.”

“Nor were you,” he shot back, still smirking. “And it’s been a while since I was assaulted by someone in a library.”

“Bring back happy memories, did it?” he snorted.  

“Not exactly,” Sebastien murmured, and Alec realised he hadn’t actually been joking. “But I must confess that — despite my behaviour — I was pleasantly surprised by the sight of you when you rounded that bookshelf…”

Turning, Alec approached him cautiously. If he was genuinely serious about his proposal, Alec would find out now. “Pleased enough to seek me out afterwards…” he said, raising his eyebrows. He couldn’t do that ‘one brow at a time’ thing that Sebastien could, but it seemed to get his tone across all the same.

Unusually for Alec, Sebastien had an inch or two on him in height, and as Alec paused in front of him, close enough to catch the faintest hint of a woody cologne, the man angled his face just perfectly for the light to dance along his high cheekbones. Fuck, he was exquisite. The urge to kiss him rose in Alec; to feel his lips against his own, to have those elegant hands scrunch his hair…  

As if reading his mind, Sebastien slowly, carefully, raised his right hand and brought his index finger to Alec’s chin, tilting it upwards just a fraction with the lightest pressure. The intensity in his eyes was almost too much, and it left Alec breathless. Again. Panting slightly, he parted his lips and then swallowed thickly.  

Sebastien’s eyes darted instantly to the motion of his throat and for a second, Alec could have sworn he saw a vibrant red light reflected in his eyes. Sensing his moment of hesitation, of tension, Sebastian frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” Alec breathed. “I thought your eyes went red but it must have been a car on the street outside or something.”  

“Indeed,” he murmured, but then blinked rapidly. “Do you still wish to continue this?”

“Yes,” he whispered. Don't stop now. His whole body was thrumming in a way it hadn’t ever before with casual encounters. He felt alive for the first time in months.  

Sebastien stepped back, turning his face away a little more. “Should we make our excuses…?”

Alec shook his head. “Nah, Kay will know what’s going on anyway, and I don’t want to face her smug looks until tomorrow at the least.”

With a softly amused chuckle, Sebastien stepped back and allowed Alec to leave the room first. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as the other man followed behind, but he didn't turn around or look at him until they were outside on the main street.  

“It’s a bit of a walk…” Alec said, only realising then how long the walk would be. “I’m way over on the other side of town by the station…”

The continuing intensity of Sebastien’s scrutiny was beginning to shift from a turn-on to just marginally unnerving, but he told himself that an esteemed professor at one of the country’s finest universities, with more letters after his name than anyone his age had a right to possess, was unlikely to be truly dangerous for a one-night stand… right? There was something about the way he stared at Alec — an unmistakable hunger in his eyes — that made his skin prickle and his heartbeat jump instinctively. Like a deer before the gaze of a tiger, he was entranced.  

Unexpectedly, Sebastien’s easy stride slowed at the brick gateway to a small, gravel park that sat between an old church and a chemist, the latter closed at this time of night. “May I kiss you?” he breathed, still gazing at him unblinkingly, as though Alec were the pretty one in this equation, not him.  

Alec couldn’t help grinning. The way Sebastien’s eyes bored into him then drove all thought of threat and fear from his mind, and he nodded.  

The man’s hands were chilly from the night air, but the moment they cupped his jaw and drew Alec toward him, he forgot about that. He forgot about everything at the meeting of their lips. Sebastien began tentatively, merely brushing their lips together, but when his golden eyes fluttered closed, he deepened the gesture, tongue just begging entrance, teasing him before withdrawing, retreating and returning.  

Searing want shot down Alec’s spine and he arched into Sebastien’s taller body, hips seeking contact through his jeans. He moaned, deep and guttural, and it seemed to awaken something in Sebastien, because the man grabbed hold of the back of Alec’s hair and pulled his head slightly to one side to begin to kiss along his jawline, down to wards his neck. For a heartbeat, Sebastien froze there, nose pressed to his rabbiting pulse point, his teeth just grazing skin, before he exhaled harshly and stepped back. “We shouldn’t get carried away,” was all he whispered, stepping slightly out of Alec’s dazed field of view. “My place is nearer though.”

“Ok,” Alec said, still reeling. “Sure.”

When they reached the apartment building, his steps faltered in amazement. “You live… here?”

A slight flush seemed to warm Sebastien’s cheeks as he stepped up to the main doorway, only to have it opened from the other side by a man in livery. “Good evening, Monsieur Dulac,” said the friendly doorman instantly.  

“Good evening,” he replied. “This is my friend, Alec Twayblade.”

It was impossible for the doorman not to realise that his ‘friend, Alec Twayblade’ was going to be a little more than that for the night, but he never let a flicker of judgement pass across his face. From the concierge desk - Sebastien’s building had a fucking concierge desk too - another man looked up and wished them both a good evening as they headed for the lifts.  

“Does the English department also sell diamonds or drugs or something? How the fuck can you afford a place like this on a lecturer’s salary?” but even as he said it and the doors closed with a soft chime, he realised the truth of it. Sebastien’s aristocratic features and bearing were not merely a persona. They were truth. He stared up at him while Sebastien turned a key in the lift panel.

“Are you secretly royalty or something?” he whispered, only half joking.  

The man shot him an amused look and shook his head, silk-white hair whispering against the rougher wool of his costume coat. “No, of course not, but I do have some inherited wealth.”

Some? “So you don’t actually have to work at the university at all then?”

He made a so-so motion of his head and said, “No, not really, but I genuinely enjoy teaching.”

“Your students certainly seem to enjoy you…”

“You don’t enjoy teaching?” he asked as the numbers on the dial climbed and climbed.  

Please don’t say you live in the fucking penthouse too, Alec thought, already suspecting it might be true from the whole ‘special access key’. He glanced at the number pad and saw that the button labelled ‘PH’ was illuminated. Fuck. “Most days I enjoy it,” he admitted. “But I kind of fell into it a while back and just sort of…” he shrugged, “Stuck with it.”

Sebastien asked no more, and the lift finally stopped on the top floor. The doors drew back to reveal an apartment beyond that Alec could only gawp at. It was like something from the set of an Architectural Digest photo shoot. Nothing was out of place in the hardwood floor paradise, with clean, crisp lines and white marble counter tops in the kitchen off to his left, while a comfortable, and yet still clinically modern, sitting area sat to their right. Deep, fluffy rugs dotted that part of the penthouse, and a wide balcony stretched out over the city beyond, complete with a little table and chairs for warmer evenings.  

“This place is incredible,” Alec breathed, the reason for his even being here completely forgotten.  

Clearly sensing that, Sebastien smiled bashfully and said, “Would you like something to drink?”

Alec cleared his throat and hoped he wasn’t going to be faced with a choice between very expensive wines that he’d never heard of. “Sure… thanks.”

“White, red, beer, or whisky?” he asked, walking towards the kitchen and dumping his ‘Alucard’ coat over the back of a white sofa as he went. Alec’s mouth went dry as he watched the point where his narrow hips met the flowing material of the white shirt. Dear god, an arse like that shouldn’t be… well, it just shouldn’t be. And yet there it was. Clad in leather and looking positively delectable. “Or a soft drink?” he added when Alec remained silent.  

Aware of where his gaze had landed, Sebastien halted and looked back over his shoulder, long, loose, naturally straight hair already losing the curls that had been worked into it for the Alucard costume. Definitely not straight, if he owned hair curlers.  

“Uh…” Alec said, unsure what the question had even been now.  

“I’m going to pour myself a whisky, if that helps…?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Sebastien smiled, looking almost endeared by Alec’s inept stuttering. Surely he couldn’t be unused to such a reaction? “Make yourself at home then.”

With a smoky, peat-tinged whisky in a wide, heavy-bottomed tumbler set on his glass coffee table, Alec watched Sebastien turn the gas fire on, and, to his surprise, he came to a halt directly in front of him. Setting his own whisky down on the table with a deliberate, and yet delicate, clunk, Sebastien turned back to him and raked his eyes down Alec’s body in a way that made him flush hot all over. His cock twitched with interest and he tried not to preen under that gaze.  

Sebastien’s eyes and teeth were back to normal now, with no hint of the golden contacts or the vampire fangs, and Alec fleetingly assumed that he must have removed them at some point between getting the whisky and appearing in front of him looking like he was about to ravish him. Oh dear god, please let him be about to ravish me, he thought with a big, dumb grin spreading across his face.  

Seeing his reaction, Sebastien reached down and knelt facing him on the sofa, running his palm over the already-growing bulge in Alec’s jeans. Alec let out a deep grunt and rocked his hips up into the contact, throwing his head back against the soft, open weave of the white fabric. “Oh fuck,” he hissed.  

Sebastien’s fingers found the button of his jeans and deftly undid it, but he paused. “May I?” he asked, and Alec found himself nodding before he’d even worked out what Sebastien wanted.  

He found out a moment later, when his jeans were around his ankles and Sebastien was kneeling on the floor between his knees and licking a long stripe up the length of his rapidly hardening cock.  

“Oh god,” he panted as the wet heat of Sebastien’s mouth engulfed half of his length and then drew back to leave his wet tip exposed to the slight chill of the apartment air. The contrast stole his breath for a heartbeat, but Sebastien returned his attentions to his cock, gently sucking and working him to full hardness in a matter of minutes.  

Pleasure sparked through Alec’s whole body and he strained not to thrust back into Sebastien’s mouth, even as Sebastien took him right to the back of his throat, the tip of Alec’s cock nudging against the silky resistance of his throat.  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he chanted as Sebastien’s fingertips just teased and caressed the underside of his balls too, and Sebastien hollowed his cheeks and sucked a little more insistently. “Oh fuck…” Really fucking eloquent here, Alec, he thought vaguely, but one look down at the vision kneeling between his legs and sucking him off drove even that thought from his brain.  

The suck and slide of Sebastien’s mouth was incredible, and while he had no idea quite how much time passed, it felt like mere seconds as the heat stoked in him until he could feel the orgasm threatening to crash through him. “I’m… I’m really close…” he gasped as Sebastien moaned against his cock, sending little vibrations thrumming through him and tipping him even closer. The sharp prick of his teeth every now and again was a perfect counterpoint to the slick heat of his mouth, and it was never enough to hurt. Normally Alec wasn’t one for including teeth in this, but with Sebastien, it felt perfect.  

Sebastien pulled back just as Alec felt himself beginning to coil up, his lips swollen and glistening from the exertion of bringing him that close, and he smiled. He looked radiant, and Alec’s cock twitched enthusiastically in his hands as he let out a soft whimper. The air was cold and his tip beaded pre-come freely, which Sebastien thumbed away with a surprisingly tender gesture, only to watch as more pearled immediately at his slit. Using just the tip of his tongue, Sebastien lapped at it delicately and Alec’s whole body shuddered.  

His thighs shook at the tiny, intense stimulation, with Sebastien's fingers gripping the base of his cock in a tight circle, and he gasped, chest heaving. It was too much and not enough, and as he found his perineum teased as well, he bellowed and trembled. He was half a heartbeat away from coming harder than he could ever remember coming in his life, and Sebastien wasn’t going to let him have it. He roared and ground his teeth, bucking his hips, which made Sebastien laugh softly.  

“Alright,” he heard him murmur, before he swallowed him down to the back of his throat again, and Alec shattered with a yell.

When he finally blinked his eyes open, he found that Sebastien had risen and was sitting on the small sofa beside him, whisky in hand, staring openly at him. He didn’t look smug exactly, but there was a quiet satisfaction to his brown eyes that made Alec flush, at which Sebastien’s beautiful lips drew back into a smile. He noted again those slightly larger canines, but they were nothing like the vampire teeth he had worn earlier.  

“What do you want?” Alec asked, voice hoarse. God, he sounded wrecked. Had he really shouted so hard he’d made his throat sore?

Sebastien’s dolorous, dark eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. “What do you want?”

“To watch you come,” he said immediately.  

“And how would you like me to come?” Sebastien replied, sipping nonchalantly at the golden liquor as if the were discussing what Alec would like Sebastien to wear. As it was, his leather pants were constricting his obvious hard-on in a way that had to be painful for him, and his shirt was open at the neck to reveal delicate collarbones and a glimpse of his beautiful olive skinned chest.  

He was an absolute vision. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he blurted in a whisper before he could stop himself, and to his surprise, Sebastien laughed. The sound was bright, delighted, and oddly self-conscious, as if he hadn’t been expecting a compliment like that. “Sorry,” he added, looking away. “Look… if you’ve got condoms, I’m… I’m good to… you know…”

“You want me to fuck you?” Sebastien asked, his gaze sharpening again.  

“Yes?”  

“’Yes?’ Or ‘yes’…?” Sebastien asked, seeking clarification.  

“Yes. But I don't understand your question.”

“Look at me,” Sebastien said.  

“Hard not to…” Alec quipped back, still feeling utterly wrung out.  

“Most people assume I’m going to be the one taking it…”

Alec’s eyebrows rose as realisation settled. “Oh. And, what, I look like a top?”

Sebastien’s lips twitched. “Conventionally more so than I do, with your rugged looks and the rough shadow around your jaw…”

“So… do you want me to… you know…? Or…” Fuck, he felt like a teenager again, struggling to articulate himself and not get his sentences in a tangle while this breathtaking creature just sat there and watched him make an idiot out of himself.

“I very much want to fuck you,” Sebastien said at last. “If you’d like that as well.”

“Yes,” he said instantly.  

Sebastien set down his glass and rose in a single, elegant motion, and then held his hand out to Alec.

His skin was still cool, especially next to Alec’s searing body, and his hold was steady as Alec heaved himself to his feet and allowed himself to be alternately tugged and kissed into the bedroom. 

___

Part Three

Behold, plot has appeared to go with the Halloween porn I had planned. Alec’s family will come up in the next chapter.

___

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me  know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

__

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[kireiwoo]

red, blue, my yellow. [jwy!]

˚➶. EXPO ↓

#𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 bestfriend!woo x fem!reader.

#𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭 in which woo is your teasing florist of a friend who can’t seem to pick between red and blue; so you add a third option for him, yellow!

#𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 bf2l, fluff, crack, blasphemy(?), animal death, cursing, 6th grader jokes, two dorks being oblivious, kissing <3

#𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 2.0k+

“Okay, so Sky Blue or Cherry Red?”

“What the fuck? Those are so contrasting.”

Wooyoung whined at your indecisive and absentminded response, leaning his head against your turquoise, sweater-clad shoulder while watching reruns of Scooby-Doo on your old TV. You sipped on the sugarless vanilla latte he purchased for you, relishing in the brief but welcomed warmth the drink radiated in waves. Wooyoung obsessively shoved two paint-cards into your face, gaggling over how bright and saturated they were.

He visited earlier with the guise of simply hanging out with you, claiming that while occupied with his 9-5 job downtown as an optimistic florist, he missed your company. Initially he picked the job because it sounded delicate and comprehensively easy. Objectively, the work was relatively standard; water the daffodils and make sure his small, secret rose garden he called ‘wonderland’ was receiving enough sunlight; but his back ached with hauling boxes filled with seeds and bags packed of faux soil.

“Why are you seriously no help?” He chirped. You grumbled in response, focusing on the graphics of the late television show rather than Wooyoung’s juvenile complaints. Your hair was an unkempt rat’s nest and your spongebob pyjama pants were ruffled considerably, but you allowed Wooyoung into your house regardless of your external appearance. You knew he wouldn’t judge you anyways, too occupied with picking a paint colour for his new apartment.

“How about Sunflower Yellow?” You calmly, dismissively suggested, taking another long swig from the now-empty pale brown paper cup before tossing it behind your couch. You’d clean it up later anyways, but for now you had a whiny best friend to deal with. “Dunno if you’re hard of hearing or colourblind but yellow wasn’t an option.” Wooyoung quipped, his eyes flashing with a teasingly stumped mirth.

“You and I both damn-well know who has the better hearing, and she’s lookin’ right at ya.” Wooyoung giggled at your pouty disposition, finding your blushed cheeks and deep eye-bags adorable. He sat casually against your couch, dressed in his own quirkily mismatched ensemble. A pair of khaki shorts accompanied by a dark green sweatshirt and multicoloured socks, his scuffed three-year-old tennis shoes laying by your door. You found it endearing how Wooyoung still tried to come up with his own fashion trends, ending up looking like a stitched together version of brand-name and value-village. But he was being expressive in the form of seasonal apparel, and you were proud of him.

“Byeol?” He teased, gesturing to your mangy, blue-eyed siamese feline as she sat back and observed your get-together, scattering away once the attention was on her. Wooyoung sighed.

“Look, you chubby-cheeked wench, just answer and I’ll leave you to sleep in your little cocoon of grandma blankets.” You huffed at his insinuation, plonking your deft fingers against his cheek softly and gently.

You met Wooyoung in third grade, when sex didn’t determine friendship and the bounds of society were turned away by your blind infant eyes.

You’d been retrieving wild bluebells and dandelions, bunching them in your sweaty grasp as a sort of dedicated bouquet, explaining to the boisterous boy that you needed to leave it as a parting gift to a squirrel you saw that got run over (you called him Tootles). Looking back, it was innately bizarre how indifferent you were to the concept of death, but Wooyoung supposes that it was a sweet thought anyways. From then on, the two of you blundered together—but part of the reason Wooyoung stayed was also because of his obvious attraction to your lopsided pigtails and thrifted summer dresses. He remembers that you always had a food stain somewhere on your clothing.

Now looking at you, still messy and even more vulgar, he can’t help but think that he doesn’t regret any moments. You’ve gone through everything together; Wooyoung was present for your first period when the stomach pain and hunger cramps were immense, and you were there when his family suffered through a rough patch, assuring him that everything would be okay when in reality, the decision of divorce between his parents was settled a week later. Those were some of his most difficult moments, but he can look back at them fondly only because it brought him closer to you.

“Wench? What are you saying? I’m a god.” You offered in the most dramatized tone you could.

“Might wanna get your facts checked,”

“Might wanna get your mom checked,” You snorted, biting your lip while procuring finger guns just for the hell of it. Wooyoung sighed in mock disappointment, his frizzy purple-tinted fringe falling onto his forehead. You grinned and giggled, catching his attention cutely.

Your whiny puppy rolled his eyes before wailing a cacophony of displeased sounds, loudly filtering his discontentment with having a plain apartment. “(Y/N) you don’t understand the seriousness of my situation! Who wants to tell their grandchildren that their first—that’s right, first!—apartment was a boring cream colour?!” Fed up with his childish bumbling, you quickly smacked his forehead, chuckling quietly as he squeaked and softened his stiff posture. It was honestly so lovable how he got so passionate about the smallest, almost insignificant things.

“Listen, we’ll figure something out. I still think Sunflower Yellow should be an option though.” Wooyoung swatted at your covered tummy with an overzealous and enthusiastic expression, clearly excited with the concept of letting you help him. The soft scent of peppermint-chamomile flooded into your nostrils from his clothing, making you mentally note to ask him what detergent he decided to try. “You think wrong, settler! Now choose between these two colours or I’ll be obligated to steal half of your lifespan.” You laughed loudly at the unprecedented silliness of your best friend, shaking your head while sending a fleeting but absolutely enamoured stare in his direction.

“Honestly, at this point why am I letting you help me?” He hummed. You gurgled at his feigned distress, gasping and tackling him against the couch. You straddled his waist, pointing a manicured figure at his face while you fondly cursed at him. “As I recall, Mr. Jung; you arrived to my residence at exactly 12:01 PM with the excuse to hang out, only to badger me with your issues about... paint colours. You came to me.” Wooyoung sat enthralled by your change in attitude, bathing in the flawlessness of your execution regarding exposing him for his wrongdoings.

“Just boom, bam, pow: There’s that dude I’m in love with.” Wooyoung’s eyes widened considerably, a snarky smirk falling across his countenance as his cheeks devilishly flushed, looking similar to that of a ripened strawberry. Immediately you backtracked, wondering what you said that provoked this reaction, and realization struck across your face like a sharp slap.

Oh shit. Shit.

“I-Uh—you didn’t hear that.” You waved shy but frantic hands into his face, as if hypnotizing him into forgetting about your embarrassingly personal confession. But all he did was giggle and take ahold of your wrists, pulling your body forward so you were chest to chest with him.

A soft, addictingly brief kiss was placed against your creased forehead, the perfect lips of your best friend brushing against your heated skin. You swallowed thickly, placing your hands over his sweater-clad chest with confusion written all over your face. What in the hell kind of reaction was this—? Whatever it was, it was warm and delicate and felt right.

Then again, there’s nothing that ever feels wrong when it comes to Jung Wooyoung. Or maybe that’s just you.

“Y’know, you’re not very... secretive.” He settled, making perplexities skip through your mind like stones on water. Had he known? Was this the end of your life-long friendship? Questions ran through your mind endlessly, your heart rapidly beating and mind berating you for admitting your tini-tiny, small-as-a-planet crush. “I had my suspicions but you actually saying it was my sweet confirmation.”

“The fuck? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I-I—Hey! Don’t be angry at me!” He pouted, melting your heart into a pile of mushy and fragmented puddles. “What I was trying to say is, I love you too.” Immediately your face blanched and you dropped your head into the crook of Wooyoung’s neck, appreciating the small dust of red that decorated his ears. You simply couldn’t face him in fear that this was all a simulation; a seemingly harmless gaffe constructed firstly to tease you, and knowing Wooyoung with his wildly oblivious tendencies and boyish lack of empathy, you had no doubt that it was something he would try.

And yet, you couldn’t even force yourself to be angry at him. Because while you speculated that he was joking, somewhere in your heart you knew that he was being honest—simply in denial with the prospect of your long-lasting crush actually returning your feelings. “Hello? Earth to (Y/N)? Airhead? Loafer?” You snapped out of your reverie, staring at Wooyoung’s pinked face as his prying eyes drifted around your facial features, slowly tracing each detail.

“You love me too?” Shock ever-present, you searched in Wooyoung’s loving gaze for some kind of testimony, a confirmation, for some truth to be shed. And when all you could see were the glimmering, almost glowing sparkles in his large pupils, you felt the slightest bit reassured.

“Of course I do, bean!”

“As a friend though, right?” Wooyoung’s face screwed into an intense concentration, expression looking fragile and breakable. But in his wandering mind, he questioned how you could even consider that. He loved you as something more—with your tangled tresses and wrinkled clothes, even down to the fact that you couldn’t handle sugar but grimaced every time you drank your vanilla lattes, simply because they weren’t sweet enough.

It was the little things that he found himself so affectionately obsessed with. He remembers your bleached sundresses in elementary and how you couldn’t tie your shoes without help from a teacher. How you loathed wearing glasses because you thought they made you look nerdy, but complained because you just couldn’t see.

“Jesus Christ, Loser. No, I love you like... like a crush! Yeah, like a crush. Romantically.” He gushed, and if this wasn’t one of the most immature confessional moments in history, it sure was a cheesy one.

“Wait, really? You like-like me?” Good god. Your fingers trembled and lips twitched.

“Yes, how many times do I—” Wooyoung breathed out a shaky sigh as you leaned forward and smoothly took his lips with your own. He tasted minty and sweet, like petals and chocolate. His eyes fluttered closed as your lips meshed together, pushing against each other in a romantic twine of burning passion.

Suddenly, your hands were on either side of his head and one of his deft, spidering hands pressed onto the small of your back. The other hand trailed up to the back of your neck, twirling the loose strands of hair at your nape, his tongue breaching the space between your lips invasively—but then he tried to card his fingers through your hair; and you hissed and pulled away like a disenchanted cat, baring your teeth from the unprecedented pain.

“Shit! Sorry, baby.” Whereas your head flooded with spiking pains from small hairs being plucked, your heart was palpitating at the new but definitely embraced pet-name. “I told you that you should’ve washed your hair! But someone doesn’t like listening!” You tutted at the nagging, harrumphing before placing another complacent kiss against his lips.

“Oh shut up, Mr. I can’t choose between red and blue.” You never thought you’d get the chance to tease Wooyoung after directly smooching him; it was a fantasy and a reoccurring fever dream to feel his plush, pillowed lips against your own. Perhaps a perverse imaginative scenario, but it was a reality now. And reality suddenly didn’t seem so harsh; crowded in the warm arms of a starry-eyed shortie with calloused hands and a knack for gardening.

“You’re right, I can’t. But it’s okay, I prefer yellow anyways.”

Who knows what awaits you in life? Maybe the sky will drain of it’s blue and the roses will deplete of their red—but no matter the changes and disparities that occur over the years, there’s always one thing that you’re forever sure of:

“You’re my yellow, Jung Wooyoung.”

🥽 all rights reserved © kireiwoo. do not : plagiarize, counterfeit, or translate, & thank you for reading <3!

[no-touchy]

Norson’s NSFW Alphabet

I figured he needs one ;3

A= Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Norson is an absolute gentleman when it comes to aftercare, considering its going to take you longer to come down from heaven than him. Usually he has things set up before the deed; towels, water, a few snacks. After however, he is holding you tight. Soft praises and lots of kisses. He stays with you close until you’re coherent again so he can get other things if you need them or to carry you to the bathroom.

B= Body Part (Their favorite body of their own and their partner’s)

Norson for him would be his hands. They’re absolutely massive and he can do a lot with them. And a lot to you, grabbing, spanking (if you’re into it), fingering, stroking. Whatever it is, he can do. For his partner’s, definitely their hips. Regardless if you have any or not. He likes to watch you walk, the way they sway from left to right. Its a good spot where he can rest his hands and leave cute little bruises on them.

C= Cum (Anything to do with cum)

Jesus, this man is a pristine baby batter maker. His ‘average’ load is the size of at least three large loads of the typical man and he loves to cum inside you. Loves to see your belly be a bit bigger with his liquid seed (yes, he has a breeding kink but that will come later). Its also thick and globby. Like glue almost but without the sticking things together part. If you’re blowing him and you can’t swallow all of him down, that’s okay. He loves to watch run down your chin. But you do you, baby boo.

D= Dirty Little Secret (Pretty self explanatory)

Norson has one that he doesn’t talk about much because its made others uncomfortable. But he really wants to tie you down and do whatever he likes to you. However, this will be brought only after you’ve been together for a while because what he wants you to be comfortable with the whole idea of letting go wild.

E= Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Experience-wise, Norson has only a little real world experience. What he does know is seen through porn and asking way too many questions. But surprisingly enough, Norson is very good from just observational learning, From taking with his older brother, Keane, he knows exactly what not to do. 

F= Favorite Position (Also self explanatory)

The mating press, hands down is his favorite position. Legs pressed against his shoulders as he slams into and watches you lose your mind. That is a five star Michelin meal to this man. But doggy style is a very close runner up, hands on your hips as he pulls you back to him. Norson will not able to get enough of it.

G= Goofy (Are they more serious or goofy in the moment?)

IN the actual moment, Norson can be very serious. Hyper fixating on you, making you feel all sorts of things. Before the moment, he can be a dork. Cracking jokes but in a teasing type of way, loves making you giggle. He notices that some soft humor can help people relax before a big moment and helps develop a strong connection between two people. So he uses light humor when he can before, during and after said deed.

H= Hair (How well groomed are they? Carpet match the drapes?)

Being a former military man, Norson is very neat when it comes to his hygiene. Very well groomed and trimmed short. But if he grows out his pubes a bit, they’re soft and curly. They’re a bit darker than the hair on his head but undeniably his.

I= Intimacy (How are they during some heat, romantically?)

Norson has this ability that during your moment with him, you two are the only people on the planet. That time has slowed down or stopped. Forehead to forehead with those slow, deep thrusts. No one else can enter your guys’ own little world. No matter the position, he is there with you and the only one with you. God forbid anyone should try to enter this little domain.

J= Jack off (Masturbation stuff)

Norson has knows he can’t have you all the time so sometimes when he’s got nothing else to do, he lets one loose. Its a pure boredom thing and something to pass the time. And a bonus stress relief. How often though? Once in a blue moon, he is a mechanic so he barely sits down.

K= Kink (What kink or kinks do they have?)

Oh boy, here we go. Stay with me now. One, his domination kink. The man loves to manhandle and control you, plus being an absolute unit of a human, this task comes very easy to him. Two, breeding kink. Even if you can’t have kids, regardless he is still filling you to the brim, having you beg to put a child in you. Three, size kink. Norson is 6′ 10″, everyone is small to him and he loves it. Four, overstimulation. Whether its his hands doing the work, his tongue or anything else. He loves to have you shaking and begging for him to stop only to pull away and making you whine for him.

L= Location (Where does he like to do it the most?)

Anywhere and anywhere, babe. Anywhere around the house, even in the backyard or front yard. In his shop, in a client’s car, in his little office over the desk. You have a place you want him in, already done. No questions asked.

M= Motivation (What turns them on? What gets them there?)

The real question is, what doesn’t? You could breathe a certain way and it makes him throb. A look you give, the way you lick your lips, anything and everything. He could watch a video on social media and be like “I should call them.” It really doesn’t take much.

N= No-nos (What is a no zone? Turn off?)

Anything that causes a lot of pain. Spanking is a lot lee way though. But things like burning, deep cuts, etc. Its a red no. Its happening kind of thing. As for turn offs, seeing you cry out of pain. (but if the tears are an involuntary reflex, then its a bit different.) He doesn’t want to cause his baby pain, even if they ask.

O= Oral (Giving or receiving?)

Norson prefers to give. But will never say no if you want to go down on him. The man will spend hours between your thighs if you let him, the overstimulation kink comes in handy here. Not to mention, Norson has a very nice tongue. Its long, he can touch the bridge of his nose with the tip of his tongue and its split. Loves to lick your deep.

P= Pace (Are they fast and rough or slow and sensual?)

Truly, it depends on you and how he is feeling. If you’ve been a brat and are begging him to go faster or harder? Guess what, he’ll slow down and keep it light. But if you’ve been prefect, he’s a bit on a harder pace naturally. Always a skin to skin slapper.

Q= Quickies (Do they like them?)

Norson is always down for a quickie. He’ll never say no to you and understands sometimes you just need to get down and dirty. But he usually has kinda long quickies, so jus prepare for a quickie to last quite some time.

R= Risk (Are they risky? Are they willing to spice it up?)

Yes, Norson will be risky for you as long as its within certain boundaries. You wanna try some very spicy things? He’ll talk it over with you, figure out a game plan to where its fun and you both remain safe. He wants the best for you.

S= Stamina (How long is the round and how many rounds can they last?)

This man will be able to make you stay in bed for days. A single round can last anywhere from 10 to 25 minutes. Depending on how long he’s been teased and if he’s masturbated beforehand. But a full session can last up to seven hours. And no, he doesn’t always have to be inserted into you. Most of it is foreplay but he is hard the entire time.

T= Toys (Do they have toys? Do they use them? On their partner?)

Yup, big man has toys. But he has to special order his. Sometimes his hands aren’t enough. Using them on his partner? Oh yeah, especially when he has you tied down.

U= Unfair (How much do they tease?)

Good Lord. I hope you have an unlimited amount of patience. You’re going to need it. Norson LOVES to tease, naughty words throughout the day, scandalous touches. And he learns everything that gets his partner going in a very short amout of time too. There is not a minute that goes by that he doesn’t want you. 

V= Volume (How loud? What noises do they make?)

Norson can be very loud, he very much voices the pleasure you’re giving him. Groaning at the smaller touches, moaning at the bigger one. Words of praise or degradation (whatever you’re into). Growls and snarls. Norson has an insane deep voice too. It’ll make you wet or hard at the simplest words.

W= Wild Card (A random headcanon) 

Norson is a ring maker. In his home garage, he has a tiny workshop that he makes rings. Sometimes he sells them, others he gives away as gifts.

X= X-ray (What are they packing?)

Norson is...proportionate. A incredibly thick eight inches. Thick at a monster energy drink can from base to tip. He is cut and a shower. When he sits down and his pants tighten at the crotch, you can faintly see the outline of him and its intimidating.

Y= Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Norson is a moving freight train. He has a ridiculous high sex drive. Almost insatiable. Always ready for you when you need him.

Z= Zzz (How quickly do they fall asleep afterwards?)

He will wait for you to fall asleep. Norson will talk about mundane stuff with you. Cracking jokes and about things about your lives. He loves to watch you sleep as he holds you to his chest.

Hope you enjoyed this!

[y0itsbri]

it's pizza night at the gallagher-milkovich household!

word count: 2k

usually they order a couple pizzas from some local joint: thin crust chicago supreme for ian and deep dish meat lovers for mickey, though they steal pieces of each others' all the time (even if mickey has to pick off all the onions from ian's chicago supreme.)

but tonight ian wanted to do something different. the tomatoes and bell peppers from the garden were finally looking ripe. ian, with his green thumb, had spent most of spring and summer nurturing a row of plants in the community garden of their apartment complex. mickey had thought it was boring as fuck at first when nothing seemed to be changing, but eventually seeing the plants shoot up and seeing ian excited about all the new growth gave him a paternal kick somewhere from deep inside him. he even found himself wondering how the plants were holding up after a particularly bad thunderstorm one night. for fuck's sake -- was he a plant dad now? when the fuck did this happen?

and if they were going to make their own pizzas with ian's fresh vegetables, they sure as hell weren't going to cut any corners with the store-bought dough. though mickey would never admit it, he was getting pretty good at baking, which was something ian was both a little jealous and very proud of. at this point, mickey was basically a pro specifically at making orange cranberry bread (which ian had become immediately hooked on for a few weeks after jill brought over a loaf as a 'sorry-my-boyfriend-pissed-off-mickey' gift) and also at his favorite peanut butter chocolate chip cookies (mickey has such a sweet tooth, and ian has no idea how he hasn't had more cavities.) surely pizza dough couldn't be too much different than the rest of mickey's pretty impressive baking skills.

after work wednesday evening, mickey emerged from the shower with just a towel wrapped around his waist. he peeked out into the living room expecting to see ian zombified on the couch with the usual two boxes of pizza balanced across his legs. however, mickey was thrown off a bit as he spotted ian behind the kitchen counter rummaging through cabinets, occasionally opening the fridge, and proudly wearing his "i like to get high (quality ingredients)" apron, which had been a very appropriate birthday gift from lip.

"what's with all the ruckus in here, big bang," mickey teased. ian's wild eyes calmed a beat after they had finally noticed mickey standing in the doorframe. he checked out his husband up and down once over as a mischievous smile blossomed on his face.

"it's a surprise, but i'm gonna need you to put some clothes on," ian announced, even though his darkening eyes were saying quite the opposite.

mickey was rather hungry and curious about the shitstorm of a mess in the kitchen, so he decided not to push his luck with ian's lustful gaze and instead obediently turned around to pull on some sweatpants while mumbling something about "can't be too good of a surprise if i have to put on clothes." ian smirked from behind him.

mickey swaggered back to the kitchen wearing one of ian's old rotc t-shirts, hoping it would get enough of a rise out of ian for him to enthusiastically take it off late in the night. as if ian needed a reason.

"alright, alright, tough guy. what's the big surprise?"

ian slid his arm around mickey's waist and pulled them flush together as they stared at the array of ingredients sprawled out.

"Pizza," he stated as if it were a simple fact.

mickey's brow furrowed. there clearly wasn't any pizza on the counter. "where's the fuckin' pizza? or did you get too high," he teased, poking at ian's apron.

"ha. ha. very funny, babe. just high quality ingredients, remember?" ian winked and mickey smirked, musing at his dork. when mickey didn't counter him again ian cleared his throat and continued, "no, but for real. ya know how i've been growing vegetables in the garden here?"

mickey nodded. as if he could forget.

"well, for pizza night i was thinking that we could make our own with some of the vegetables and i was hoping," he dragged out the word and squeezed mickey's waist, "that you would make the dough, seeing that you're the star baker of the house."

mickey rolled his eyes. he didn't know where ian got the impression that he was the next best thing to a professional baker when he would usually just take the easy way out. especially when he was hungry and it came to pizza night. but he was secretly very excited to try the food that ian had spent so much time cultivating.

"yeah, man, let's get it." mickey leaned over the counter to turn the bluetooth speaker on and connect his phone, 'wait by the river' by lord huron playing. he grinned as he allowed ian to slide his hand down his arm and lace their fingers as they swayed together for a moment before pulling away and promptly getting to work on food prep.

ian hummed while he washed and chopped the vegetables, occasionally making comments about how he can't believe how colorful they are or how they had grown from nothing. mickey entertained his comments while he made the dough, "well not quite nothing. there was the seed and the sunlight and the shitty ass soil and you watered it a bunch and stuff. all that love ain't nothing." ian warmly smiled at how casually his husband talked about all forms of love now.

once everything was cleaned and diced and the dough was divided into two equal slabs, they got to shaping their crusts. mickey, being the little shit that he is, had extra flour on his hands and wiped some across ian's cheek. he took off behind the counter and into the living room before ian was able to even get out an agitated "what the fuck, mick!" ian was soon on his heels though and tackled him into the couch, wrestling and straddling him and pinning mickey's arms above his head with one hand and smearing flour from his own hand across mickey's cheek as he struggled.

"payback's a bitch," ian teased through his fits of laughter as mickey's face was twisted up in utter disgust, "oh c'mon, mick, can't take it?"

"you know exactly what i can take, asshole," mickey wiggled his eyebrow as he grumbled lowly. ian's face dropped in complete shock as he was taken off guard, and his grip loosened. mickey used that moment of weakness to flip ian off of him and straighten up his shirt as he stood, no mind to the floured handprints placed haphazardly all over himself, and definitely not entirely from his own hands.

"great, so pizza, then?" he smiled over his shoulder at a disheveled ian as he went to go shape the dough, innovatively using a can of beans as a rolling pin.

ian joined him behind the counter and smacked his ball of dough. "hmm"ed and paused. mickey turned to investigate the curious glint in ian's eye when he heard and felt a similar smack on his own ass.

"oh my fucking god, ian. we're never going to get anything done. i'm fucking starving," he groaned.

"as if you didn't start it!"

mickey paused for a moment. sure, fine, yeah. ian had a point with this one, "whatever." he poked ian in the side and then turned back to his pizza. after they were rolled out enough, ian picked up the spoon to put sauce on.

"nah, man! what the fuck are you doing?" mickey snapped, more with urgency than actual agitation, "we gotta cook them for a little bit first before putting all the shit on there, ya know?"

ian put his hands up in innocence and slowly backed away from both the pizzas and the oven, "my bad, chef, carry on."

mickey flipped him off before slipping the two crusts into the oven for a couple minutes. while they waited, ian picked up mickey's phone and pulled up a youtube compilation video of gordon ramsay 'critiquing' his chefs.

"hey mick, this is you in the kitchen."

they watched for a couple minutes as ian laughed his ass off.

"oh fuck off, you'd burn the place down without me," mickey retorted, carefully pulling the crusts out of the oven. ian just rolled his eyes and resumed playing the music from a spotify playlist that mickey totally did not have named 'date night🥀.'

they took turns spooning sauce with chunks of fresh tomato onto their half baked crusts and then sprinkled on some grated cheese and pepperoni, which they had picked up at the farmer's market on their last trip with a couple of the women in their complex they had accidentally befriended.

as much as mickey ate like a broke college kid when he was left to fend for himself most days, he really didn't mind vegetables (except for fucking onions -- those could rot in hell.) despite this, ian still looked on astonished as mickey piled on the veggies just as much as his pepperoni. that was really saying something.

mickey glanced up, "what, popeye? like you're the only one that gets to enjoy the shit from the garden? i gotta taste for myself all the hype that went into this!"

a look of pure adoration flashed across ian's face as he laid a smooch on mickey's forehead. mickey's felt fucking butterflies in his stomach. he thought that being married to the guy would make those feelings simmer down, but as if it was even possible, the flames burned even stronger.

as they waited for their pizzas to cook in the oven for the final time, they giggled like lovestruck teenagers as they wiped the flour off of each others' faces, making an even bigger mess than they started with, as mickey's hair was now dripping wet. they then cleaned off the countertops and packed the extra ingredients in some blue-lidded tupperware set that debbie had recommended.

ian got two beers out of the fridge, "special occasion," he reasoned. mickey scoffed. as if they needed a reason to get fucking smashed.

soon the pizzas were done, and only slightly burnt at the edges, "adds flavor," mickey reasoned. as if anything mickey actually put effort into cooking would be less than perfect.

ian sliced the warm pizzas as mickey grabbed a couple plates, pausing in his steps to not-so-subtly stare at his husband's biceps flex with the force of the pizza slicer.

they didn't even bother to put on a tv show in the background as they ate. mickey's phone was still playing some chill, lowkey romantic music, and they were just excited to dig in. at this point mickey was fucking starving. mickey quite literally moaned as he took his first bite. ian snapped his head to stare daggers at mickey, watching his throat intently.

"shiiiit. that good, huh?" ian murmured.

all mickey could manage to do was nod as he swallowed.

"might have to do this more often," ian suggested as he took a bite of his own slice. shit. this was good.

"good job growing this shit, man," mickey praised through a mouthful. he swallowed, then added on teasingly, but actually oh-so-serious, "might wanna try growing some mary jane next year if you keep it up with your green ass thumb."

"sure, mick." ian took a sip of his beer. ian would agree to anything mickey would ask of him right now, tipsy on both his beer and his fondness of his husband. as if he could read his mind, mickey reached his hand out to rest on ian's thigh, squeezing once before resting it there for the remainder of dinner.

they finished off the beers and pizzas in bliss, leaving the dishes near the sink to be tomorrow's problem. they didn't even make it out of the kitchen before ian started to tug on the hems of mickey's shirt.

[xhanisai]

Blanc Noise - Chapter One

AO3 / FFN

Summary: 

It first began with the feeling of being watched and the flicker of shadows.

Then along came missing items being returned in the most odd places.

Soon it was the glimpses of blue eyes in the darkness and a silhouette of white that haunted her.

Marinette thought she saved him, that she saved her Chat Noir from the dystopian timeline.

She was wrong...oh so wrong...

A/N: Wassup mah d00ds! I hope you're all doing well and everything! Anyways, on tumblr, I made a quick AU of 'What if Chat Blanc comes back but as a ghost?' and it got lots of positive attention hence I decided to start a full fledged story. After all, I am a fucking slut for Mariblanc~ Big thanks to my good friend @/gale-of-the-nomads for the title name (sometimes, he has a good idea or two despite the amount of terrible puns he spews lol). Nevertheless, enjoy! P.S: The story takes place after the episode: Ladybug. Therefore, Maître Fu is still around, the love square is still going strong and Ladybug is not the guardian. Additionally, I've tweaked the timeline. The duo have now started their final year in collège in September (the events of Ladybug happened just before the summer holidays). Do I make myself clear? Good. Have fun! Song listened to whilst writing: White Silence - TK from Ling tosite sigure

~(x)~ . . . "MmmMhmm! That smells amazing! What have brought this time, My Lady?" The feline hero leapt to his feet, faux ears and tails wiggling with delight and pupils dilating with elation. Ladybug laughed softly at her endearing partner, sitting down on their favourite beam of the Eiffel Tower and beckoning the boy to come closer, wiggling the Tupperware in her hand teasingly. Chat Noir didn't hesitate to scurry towards her, plopping down on the spot opposite the heroine as she placed the container in his greedy hands. If he wasn't such a gentleman, he would have immediately tore off the lid and scarfed the delectable goodies down his throat like the alley cat his Lady proclaimed him to be. "Guess." Ladybug humoured him. "And before you ask, the clue is that it's a savoury dish this time. Don't shake it up too much." She playfully took it away from him and then placed it on the spot between them, grinning as Chat's face scrunched up into a thinking expression. Lips pursed, eyes narrowed and arms folded. Absolutely adorable. "Hm...it can't be steamed garlic prawns. You brought that yesterday." Noir mused. "And it doesn't smell like duck pancakes either." He added, scrutinising the mystery within the container. "You mean the Běijīng kǎoyā? Not after that horrible heartburn it gave you last week." Ladybug cheekily flicked his forehead, earning an annoyed grunt from him. "Geez no need to flex on the Chinese, Mlle. I don't know a lick of Mandarin." He tried to swat away Ladybug's hands when she attempted to poke him for making fun of her, chuckling at her mock angry face. "Okay okay! I'll behave- the heartburn was worth it by the way~ I started to crave for more days after, hahaha-" "I know SOME Mandarin, stupid!" "Insults and crude words do not count, My Lady." "Just guess the food in the Tupperware already or else I won't share!" Her threat froze the black cat comically. Chat quickly blabbered out apologies, clearing his throat and then eyed the container again. The sound of his stomach rumbling broke the silence, embarrassing the hero whilst his partner barely kept in her snickers. "Vermicelli rolls?" "Nope." "Kung-Pao chicken?" "Nah." "...wontons?" "You're getting closer," "Agh...okay from when I shook it, it sounded quite hard and crispy so..." He carefully shook the container once more, ears pressed against the cool surface as he tried his best to identify the treasures. Finally, an idea struck him, evident in the way his faux ears and tail shot upwards. "Aha! Spring rolls! It's spring rolls, isn't it?" His face looked like one who won the lottery and Ladybug couldn't help but coo internally. He was such a dork. "That's right, Chaton. Now, if you guess the correct fillings, I'll let you have some." Ladybug added nonchalantly, eating up the way Chat spluttered and the frazzled gestures he made, eyes begging to let him have the treats already. "Oh come on! You're not that cruel, Bug." He pouted but didn't attempt to snatch away the container. He directed his beady glare at his Lady, arms folded. "...La-aaaaady-bu-uuuuug..." He whined. "Just kidding~ Here, Bon appétit ," Ladybug didn't waste time, tearing off the lid and beckoning Chat to take some of the spring rolls. The boy's eyes widened at the sight of the delicious looking treats. The pastry was golden and crisp, the size of each roll were consistent and big enough to finish in three bites and the enticing, spicy scent made the feline salivate. And, they were still piping hot. Hell yeah, Bon appétit indeed! Without hesitation, Chat took a bite, unaware of Ladybug's anticipating look. . "Holy shit...I'm in heaven..." The teen blurted out, eyeing his spring roll with a tearful look, as if it was too beautiful for him to eat. He shoved the whole pastry in his mouth, moaning in delight without a shame whilst his Lady's tinkling giggles was like music to his ears. What a way to spend the last evening of summer before school. A beautiful summer night, a beautiful lady and amazing food! 'Yes, this cat is content for life,' He purred to himself, smiling at his partner as she offered him another roll. "Thank dieu you enjoyed it. I wasn't too sure if you were going to be keen on the secret ingredient I mixed in with the vegetables." Ladybug twirled her roll, cheeks ever so slightly flushed with happiness. "Is it that exotic spicy scent that I've been smelling this whole time?" "Yes. Maman's friend who's from the south-east gave her these homegrown naga-chillies. They're really, really hot on their own but without the seeds, they're bearable to me and make the vegetable filling taste so good." She bit into her roll as if to emphasise her point. She was blind to the way Chat Noir watched her with a pleasant, fulfilled smile. The warmth that pulsed in his stomach provoked his heart to skip a few beats or so- a standard reaction that the love of his life always gave him. 'I wish you would be mine forever...' His unsaid words were left floating in the back of his head as he nibbled on his food. The duo spent the rest of the night laughing, joking, exchanging bizarre stories without giving away their civilian lives and before they knew it, it was midnight. "Uh-oh...I'm turning into a pumpkin! Save me!" Chat Noir wailed dramatically, curling up into a ball and leaning against Ladybug. Her hearty laughter grew in volume, the girl clutching her stomach as she gasped for a breath only for Chat to join her with his contagious laugh. Soon, they calmed down. With the calm came the thoughts. The crescent of the moon shone like a beacon. The temperature of the summer air started to cool and the beautiful city lights below shone like diamonds. The two were hesitant to leave, wanting to prolong their last summer night. The older of two wanted to spend as much time as he wanted with the girl he loved. The younger on the other hand? She wanted to keep him happy and close. After all, She would rather die than fail her partner again and let him be akumatised. Little did she know how potent her sadness was. The atmosphere turned tense in a flip of a switch, sending shivers down Chat's spine and he was quick to glance at his now, forlorn looking Lady. As if they didn't just have a laughing fit and a mini picnic. It was that damn empty, distant looking face again. The boy under the mask absolutely despised it. He would do anything to get rid of it. "You know I'm always here for you, Bug." He placed his hands on her forearms, beckoning her to look at him. Ladybug refused to meet eye contact so he tilted her chin up with a finger, delivering a soft, sad grimace. "It's been months now and yet you wouldn't tell me what happened. Did you think acting more sweet around me would distract me from your tears?" The girl hadn't noticed her eyes were watering till her Chaton pointed it out and wiped away a stray tear. She knew he was much more smarter and perceptive than most would give him credit for yet she couldn't help but pray that he would leave her be. 'He's always been too good for you. You know it. I know it. So why don't you just hurry up and throw the earrings away so that someone else who's actually worthy of utilising the power can properly look after him?' "I told you, nothing happened. Just silly, civilian stuff." Ladybug tried to shrug him off, quickly wiping her eyes and trying her best to not sniffle. "Let's just go home-" "When will you stop lying to me?" The boy hissed out, tail lashing against the beams in anger and feline ears pressed against his dishevelled locks. His acidic green eyes pierced through Ladybug's being. A deadly scowl that would surely cause the blood in Le Papillon's body to freeze and petrify him. Ladybug tried her best to not show how he surprised her, keeping a poker face and swallowed quietly. However, with the way his hands were clasped around her wrists, she feared he could feel her rapid pulse. Why was it always her that caused his rare anger to rise on an occasion or two? It was simply not fair. How righteous his anger was towards her. A sudden gust of wind swept through their hair, ending the summer season and introduced the newly born autumn with a howl. It felt like ice seeping through their suits. Yet, the polka dotted heroine didn't dare move a muscle, observing her partner with a cool, neutral expression. Chat Noir hated it. He absolutely hated it. It was one of the few faces she made when she was forced to keep a secret away from him even if it took a toll on her body and mind. He felt disgustingly useless. "I'm fine, Chat Noir." Ladybug wiggled her hands to free them of his grip, bringing them to her chest as she glanced towards the city below. "Can we please not do this tonight? Please? I want it to end on a good note." Her wish was met with a defeated sigh from her partner, not flinching for even a split second when his tail whipped against a stray beam. An echo of his anger prior. Just as it was quick to come, it was quick to leave, thankfully. "I'm not give up on you," His resolute tone induced a quiet gasp from Ladybug, the girl herself cut her gaze towards him with parted lips. "But for tonight, I'll let you be." He didn't smile but...he didn't frown either. Reaching for her hands one last time, Chat Noir brought them to his lips. His bold, fiery greens never left her soft, steady blues whilst his lips brushed against her knuckles in a traditional kiss. Taking advantage of her lack of hesitation, he kissed the backs of her hands too and then brought them to his chest so that she could feel his fierce, beating heart. It began to lash against his chest when a light rouge tinted her cheeks. "I'm always here for you, always. No matter what, you can count on me to protect you." Then, with a determined nod, he launched forward and pecked her head before letting go of her swiftly and vaulting away with an impeccable speed. Ladybug remained frozen in her position, cheeks flaming until his figure became smaller and smaller in the distance. By the time she could no longer see him, she sunk to her knees, grasping her chest as her throbbing heart felt like it was going to burst out and explode. Millions of emotions ran through her body, fighting against each other as the memory of him kissing her head replayed over and over again. Like the sweetest of poison. Addicting but deadly. Despite the warm, fluttering butterflies, despite the smooth, softness of his lips, despite the comforting, protective touch of his, Ladybug couldn't help but have the memories of the other timeline flare in her mind like a warning sign. An unwanted threat that has never failed to wreck her mind. Biting her lips, she tried to keep her tears at bay, body shaking and pushing against the sobs that threatened to spill out. She was so tempted to run back to him and tell him everything. To care for him like the way he deserves. To love him like the way he needs. Yet the haunting, crazed ice blue eyes of the past invaded the temporary soaring feelings like a virus, eating away all the positivism and hope she tried her upmost best to maintain. 'You have no right to be happy...' An ugly gloom hooded her eyes, killing all her emotions as she staggered back up to her feet, using a beam nearby for support. The harsh wind clawed through her hair, ridding her trademark ponytails of their ribbons and blowing them away to the other side of Paris. Ladybug simply didn't have the energy to get them back, using muscle memory to swing herself back home. Her ribbons long forgotten. It was a cold, bleak September now. ~(x)~ It was quiet. Too quiet. Standing up from her crouch after detransforming on her balcony, Marinette immediately spun around and glared at her surroundings whilst Tikki hovered close. Not a single sound was heard. Not even the wind. Suddenly, Marinette's heart began to pick up pace as beads of sweat started to form on her forehead. The only thing she could hear was her heartbeat as she felt something weird. Her entire neighbourhood was asleep, evident in the lights out and the pitch black environment. The only source of light in her vision were the few lamp posts on the streets as well as around the park. Yet, she couldn't ignore the feeling of being watched. Not wanting to show fear at a possible stalker, Marinette took large strides till she was at the edge of her balcony, clutching the railings and scanned the scene with more scrutiny. One of the lamp posts merely flickered as moths buzzed around it. The trees simply swayed along with the inaudible breeze. The streets and roads remained empty. Not a single soul out. Marinette exhaled softly, eyes never stopping its study of her surroundings. She took a step back, tension leaving her body bit by bit, leaving an aching throb in her chest. The adrenaline that fuelled her veins vaporised. "I don't think there's anyone around, Marinette." Tikki whispered, clutching the girl's loose strands as she also watched for anything suspicious. "Can we go back inside? I'm cold." "...okay." Marinette glared at the scene from her peripheral vision once more, almost swearing that she saw movement under one of the lamps only to brush it off as paranoia and made her way back to the trapdoor. Since she wasn't paying attention, the teen bumped into her table, almost tripping over her feet but thankfully caught herself. "Eek! Are you okay?" The little Goddess freaked out, flying in front of her charge and scanning her from head to toe for any injuries. She was waved off with a tired smile. "Don't worry, it's probably just a little...bruise...?" A slither of red caught Marinette's attention from the corner of her eye only for her to gawk. There, on the railing of her balcony was... ...One of her ribbons. Inhaling sharply and leaping towards the railings, clutching her treasured ribbon, Marinette spied around the neighbourhood desperately like a hawk. Tikki's presence on her shoulders did nothing to alleviate her stress as sweat from palpitation grew on her palms. Her mouth on the other hand ran dry and she refused to blink. She didn't dare to tremble. She was Ladybug. Nothing should scare her. ...with her partner's possible akumatisation aside that is. Regardless, Marinette fixated her stare at the specific lamp post. The area where she brushed off momentarily. The light flickered back and forth whilst moths carried on fluttering around it without a care in the world. She watched. And watched. And watched. . Still nothing. Without looking away, knuckles white from her grip on the ribbon and her free hand cradling her beloved kwami, Marinette walked backwards, gingerly going down her trapdoor and quickly closed it till it was locked shut. . The silence haunted her all night. ~(x)~ "Ma-ri-nette!!!" Instantly, said girl was glomped by her best friend in a hug that would surely asphyxiate a commoner. Thankfully, Marinette was not only Ladybug in disguise but also trained vigorously in many of the martial arts by her dear maman. "Alya! I missed you! How was Morocco with Nino and his family?" Marinette leaned against Alya as the taller of the teens hooked their elbows together, leading them inside the school. "Girllllll I have so many scoops to share, so many deets-" "The million texts and selfies you sent me daily weren't just it?" "They barely scratched the surface! But anyways, it was amazing! I couldn't believe my parents were willing to let me go even when Nora threw a fit haha! I got to relax so much, spent quality time with Nino and his extended family, took so many pictures and tried so many different food. Ah~ Best. Summer. Ever." "Oh the food...I can't believe you shamelessly ate all of that without sharing it with me," The raven-haired girl teased, pushing her hip against Alya's who pushed back without a beat. "You wouldn't be moping if you came along, Mari. Remember the tagine you tried at the local restaurant nearby and you thought that was divine? Lemme tell you, it is nothing compared to the authentic, fresh tagine made by Nino's tante. One taste and I was in heaven. Absolute heaven." "Alya you're making me jealous, I get it, I get it." Marinette playfully scoffed but then her energy soon wore off and fatigue took over her body. Alya was quick to catch the tired girl as soon as she began to sway, perfect brows sculpted in worry as she eyed her best friend. "Marinette...girl...you do not look okay. I'm telling you this 'cos I love you. Go back home and sleep." The brunette brushed Marinette's fringe gently, noting the tired, dark rings under her eyes and the unhealthy paleness of her skin. It was as if Marinette avoided the sun all her life. "I don't wanna..." The stubborn girl whined but didn't fight back when Alya led her to a nearby bench, sitting them both down. "I've been missing you all too much and couldn't wait to see you all again," She admitted, earning a coo from the curvy girl and another hug. Alya's sun-kissed honey skin was a stark contrast against Marinette's pale, porcelain skin. "Alright then but I'll be keeping an eye on you, girl. I can see the effort you put into your cute bun and soft make up. How you do your eyeliner freehand without a guide will always baffle me~" Just as Marinette was about to retort back, the duo were engulfed by a surprise hug from the back. Neither fought back as the familiar laughter and soft, masculine brown arms were registered. "Babe! And dudette! My best girls!" Nino popped his head forward, in between the girls and squished their cheeks against his. "Heyyyy~" He waggled his eyebrows stupidly, his shit eating grin widening when his girlfriend burst out laughing and Marinette following with a quiet giggle. "Nino, g'morning," Alya quickly pecked his lips. To further his dramatics, Nino pretended to swoon and flopped backwards between the girls with a dopey smile. "Finally, a good lundi morning," Nino sighed with exaggeration, his girl still trying her best to stifle her laughter whilst Marinette fondly rolled her eyes at him. "I can now brave through these useless lessons and deal with M. D'Argencourt's bullshit rambles during registration. Oh how amazing the power of lo-oooove truly is!" "Oh yeah, I almost forgot that we won't have Mme. Bustier this year. Was about to say that I was gonna miss her but not gonna lie, she lost all my respect when you got expelled." Alya huffed, pulling Marinette against her like a worried mother hen. "To think that I almost had to spend my last year here without my precious Marinette~" "But Babe! What about me?" "You wish you were as precious as sweetcheeks over here." Alya blew a raspberry at her boyfriend, cheeky grin widening at his dramatics. Marinette on the other hand simply smiled, savouring every moment. The fact that there was a possibility that she would have had to attend a different collège for her final year without her friends made her quiver and she didn't falter in snuggling closer to her best friend. She's been through so much this year. Surely she deserved some sort of happiness. Even if she failed her partner at one point... Right? 'No. You do not deserve anything but pain and suffering you selfish, self-righteous brat. Because of you, how long did your beloved partner go through that hell? How many nights did he spend wide awake after destroying the world? Face it, you don't deserve him or your friends or any sort of love-' The dark, twisted, ugly thoughts and whispers that preyed upon her mind was quick to diminish at the sound of pure sunshine. "You guys! Hey!" Marinette didn't get a chance to look up fully as she and the rest of the small group was tackled by their loving blonde friend in a comfy, sweet hug. Her heart malfunctioned on the spot as all she could smell was the fresh, crisp autumn air that lingered in his soft hair and coat. Her mind rebooted over and over again at the feel of his strong, sturdy arm wrapped around her. Her lips quaked at the feel of his brushing against her cheek despite the gleeful smile he wore. "A-A-Adrien?" The model pulled back slightly to face the stammering girl, lips quirking into a silly but sweet smile. Not thinking twice, he pressed his forehead against Marinette's tenderly, their fringes intermingling with each other and their cool breaths hitting each other's lips. Adrien's eyes sparkled like emeralds and the aspiring designer couldn't help but be mesmerised. "Missed me~?" His nose was touching hers now and his pearly whites gleamed mischievously. Poor Marinette couldn't help but blink, blush already blooming in her cheeks. Dammit. They may have gotten much, much closer yet there were still times that the boy rendered her speechless! What's with the green eyed blonde boys in her life and making her heart a complete wreck?! "B-Bro...can't breathe...I don't wanna die!" Nino's muffled pleas shattered the moment and Adrien immediately broke the hug, snickering at the way Nino gasped for air and clutched a deadpanned Alya. Though, he took a seat besides Marinette and kept an arm around her waist, leaning against her as they watched the couple bicker and banter. "Enjoyed your holidays, Adrien?" Marinette began, playing with the fraying threads of her purse and peeked at him below her lashes. Adrien hummed, sitting up and then directed his gorgeous greens at her. 'Be still, my heart.' Marinette couldn't help but beg. "It was alright. Didn't leave Paris though and had too many photo-shoots. What about you? Didn't you get to go to Shanghai for a week?" Adrien's question almost went unheard as Mari couldn't help but be hyper-aware of the warmth of his hand on her waist. The way his finger casually tapped against it. The innocent smile he had on his lips. This boy was going to be the death of her. 'But you don't deserve him. You don't deserve either of them. Be lucky that they even acknowledge your filthy existence.' The eerie whispers clawed through her brain, her body begging to run away and cry. Yet, she forced her fingers to move away from her purse and pull on the seams of her navy pea-coat, smile never faltering. "Yes, I did. I really enjoyed it there. I wish I got to stay for lo-longer..." She trailed off, swallowing down any babbles or word soup as Adrien squeezed her waist as a gesture of comfort. He was being really sweet today... "I don't blame ya- all the pictures you posted online looked so cool. The skyline at night, the food, heck even your relatives! If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought that cousin of yours was your brother." "You wouldn't be the first to mistaken us as siblings," She giggled. "When we were younger and they came over to Paris to visit, some people used get mixed up between me and him. It didn't help that I had my hair really short at the time and wore nothing but blue and red." "That would have been really cute to see. Hmm, it also makes sense with how easily you accepted that Félix and I were just cousins instead of that weird conspiracy theory that Kim concocted up." "Oh I wouldn't say I accepted it too easily. You and your cousin are like mirrors of each other. It's insane! I thought for a minute that you had an evil twin." Marinette winked merrily, her giggles simply grew while Adrien rolled his eyes at her. "Come on. Not you too." His fake pout didn't last long and he quietly chortled alongside her. Just a smile from his Princesse was enough to brighten up his day despite the small fight he had with Ladybug eight hours prior. Yes, Ladybug was the love of his life. Yes, he would go to the moon and back for her. However, he would be an absolute idiot and horrifically obtuse to deny that his feelings for Marinette weren't as strong. With rare wisdom from his lazy kwami, Adrien learned that having feelings for more than one person was not only natural but also healthy in a way. It showed that he wasn't forever stuck on one person and it eased the pain of his Lady's rejection to his advances. Ladybug and Marinette were his best friends first and foremost and he wouldn't dare to sabotage his precious friendships. It didn't mean he couldn't wish for Ladybug to fall for him one day. Same for Marinette. He's still a silly teen; he could keep dreaming and fantasising! Till then, he was going to go with the flow and see what the future entailed. As far as he was concerned, his future was leaning more towards Marinette and frankly, he did not mind one bit. Abruptly, the morning bell rang, indicating that it was time for the students to head to class for registration. Grunts and groans were heard from the swarm of students in the courtyard, Kim's distinct "It's time for hell, bitches!" being one of the more prominent voices in the crowd along with Alix's curses. "Thank fuck Mari-bee was the class president last year and made sure that we got our class to be the same for this year. I'd have eaten my own hands if I had to deal with that one annoying kid obsessed with magic again." Nino shot a friendly punch against Marinette's shoulder and then wrapped an arm around Alya's waist as she led them to their new classroom. "Did he just indirectly mention that he'd rather have Chloé and Lila over Jean as his classmate?" Marinette huffed with endearment, taking the hand that Adrien offered to help her up. The sudden rush to her head caused her to wobble on the spot. Luckily, Adrien steadied her without a word, hands clasping her forearms. "S-Sorry..." She attempted to step away but the boy's grip on her tightened, halting her. Marinette glanced back at Adrien with confusion, cocking her head to the side slightly and lips pursed. "...you're not feeling well, aren't you?" A nail in the coffin. Adrien scanned her body from head to foot, frown growing deeper. "You can barely stand." "I'm fine. I just...couldn't get any sleep. I was nervous for the first day of school and also didn't want to oversleep." Marinette answered quickly, looking away from him. She didn't expect his finger to hook under her chin, forcing eye contact. For the first time, Adrien glared at her. Glared. He leaned in closer, bending down so that he could reach her height. "Are you lying?" Neither of them budged. The mutterings and chatter from the students that were around grew fainter and fainter until all that was heard was the classroom doors slamming shut and the echos of the teachers doing the register. Marinette wanted to quickly deny the allegation. She wanted to push him aside and run to class. She wanted to forget how she momentarily confused Adrien with her partner. Though, even the Ladybug could run out of luck. "Adrien," She began. "We're going to be late." Her stoic, cool expression showed that she wasn't going to budge, pissing off her friend completely. The model tsked with irritation, quick to grab her hand whilst using his other one to adjust the strap of his bag over his shoulder. He moodily led her to their class, refusing to utter another word. For a split second, the defiance and stubbornness in Marinette's eyes were a hundred percent identical to Ladybug's. He almost blurted out his treasured nickname for her. The annoyance of said stubbornness and refusal to accept his help grew stronger instead, causing him to try and forget about it and brood later on. What's with his treasured girls and their stupid reluctance to let him help!? . He wasn't aware of the horror that was plastered on Marinette's face. The girl refused to tear her eyes away from the main door behind them as a lone, torn up, dirty ribbon flayed in the entrance. A familiar ribbon that was most definitely not there ten seconds ago. When M. Haprèle closed the door, Marinette could have sworn... ...that there was a pair of blue eyes watching her right back. . . . ~(x)~ A/N: That's the end of chapter one! It's more like a prologue ish, slow chapter since we're building up- so bear with me, aight? I hope you enjoyed reading it regardless. I stayed up till 5am to write it after all :0 If this chapter gets at least ten comments, I will update! Till then, see you next time~

[dorksidefiker]

The fact that the monsters are still active after Kaede’s “death”, despite one of the Kushinada bloodline dying being explicitly what will send them back to sleep, reeeeeeeeeeeeeally should have been a big fucking clue to everyone that she wasn’t actually dead.

[akirasbangs]

Let's talk about crush

My crush in chronological order :3

Ichijouji Ken, Digimon 02

He is one of the DigiDestined and he looks rather cute just like that, maybe a bit shy and quiet too. However *spoiler alerts* this poor child was manipulated to be the Digimon Emperor due to his childhood sufferings (how sad!) But he got helped by his friends and we get too see the fragile sides of him. And I had a thing for a fragile boy.

He is my first childhood anime crush :3 I realized that after an episode where he was kidnapped or something. He was just a nice boy with something broken inside and needed help. Awwwww.

Well, I watched it like two decades ago so I don't really remember the story, but I guess I remember how I felt 😌

Anddd isn't that a blue/purple argyle jumper he's wearing? 👀

.

.

Nigihayami Kohakunushi, Spirited Away

He's a dragon and a river spirit in a form of a 12-year-old boy though we don't really know how old he actually is (I want to assume that he's about Chihiro's age). And he can make delicious onigiri, and do some magical spells.

While he acts coldly with his sharp gaze and gestures, but with Chihiro, he's so caring and protective. His gaze for her is tender and soft and kind. Awwwww. How sweet :3

With those characteristics, he's my second crush. I get emotional every single time I rewatch this movie. The ending though. *soundtrack begins*

.

.

Touya Akira, Hikaru no Go

Akira is such a precious babe (awwww). He's a Go prodigy and a little dork. He's such a well-mannered and proper boy from the Touya family.

His sharp glares that can also be soft, his style and outfits and the way he holds his cup of tea that's such an etiquette.

I also love his intensity and obsession towards Hikaru, a lot of strong emotions going on and it's just.... yes :3

It was a pleasure seeing him growing up in this coming-of-age manga/anime. I'm sooooo obsessed with Touya Akira. I can say he's my most favourite character of all time.

.

.

Yzak Joule, Gundam Seed/Gundam Seed Destiny

I first watched this anime because of Athrun, but I stead I spot this hotheaded young man and I like him instantly :3

He may act like an angry bad boy who burst to anger every now and then (I think someone should understand him and hug him already!), but he's loyal and fair and one of the best in combat. His personality is just something I always find interesting.

Ahhh I'll watch this anime again at some point. I miss this.

Wait. Isn't that a pink shirt he's wearing?

.

.

.

Writing this post brings back so much memory ;_;

To summarize, bob haircut on boys is my fixation.

[watchingspnagain]

Rewatching Shadow

Welcome to “Demons for Dummies: A Supernatural Rewatch Blog” with Lor and Mace!

 Up today, s1e16: Shadow

 Something kills a young woman inside her locked apartment—no forced entry, no way anything could get in. Sam and Dean show up to investigate (in some super spiffy coveralls), and Dean does some pretty sharp pattern recognition to put them on the track of the monster responsible. Meanwhile, they run into Meg in a random bar, and Sam is sus. Eventually they discover Meg is summoning some dark stuff, reunite with John (a happyish but charged encounter), and get sliced and diced by the monster. John then dictates that he and the boys must go their separate ways because it will be safer. Dean agrees. Sammy is not happy.

 Below is a log of our real-time reactions as we watched. Remember that there may be spoilers for any part of SPN’s 15-season run here.  Note also that the nature of our conversation is adult and thus it may contain adult language and themes.

 [and we begin:]

 Lor:

 snork the editing there

 Mace:

 YES

 Lor:

 this is so atmospheric and I just want to BEG her not to walk home alone this late at night

Mace:

 right?!

or tell her to just follow the spiders if she has questions

 Lor:

 HAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA

if she wanted to find out some... stuff

 Mace:

 exactly. so subtle, that Hagrid

 Lor:

 lololol

 TURN ON THE LIGHTS

 Mace:

 SNORK! YES

 Lor:

 turn them all on who DOES THIS?

 Mace:

 it's all part of her punk/goth vibe, man

 Lor:

 lolol

 welp now she has a splatter vibe

 Mace:

 snork

 Lor:

 NGGGGG the blue coveralls

 Mace:

 YAAAS

 Dean, you ARE a HS drama dork

 Lor:

 RIGHT?

 "about as useful as boobs on a man" omg

 Mace:

 you know I really don't like weapons and yet the first thing I thought of when this one started is, "Oh, I think this one has a Dean Cleaning Weapons scene!"

 Lor:

 LOL

my first thought was "I think this is one of the ones where Dean gets to be super smarty"

 they put their real names on the coveralls I cannot

 Mace:

 HA!

 "knock yourself out" woman, do NOT encourage Sammy because it WILL happen

 Lor:

 HAAHAHAHAHAHA

 YAS it is this one. this bit with the masking tape and the pattern

 Mace:

YES

 Lor:

 lololol Dean

 Mace:

 the little smile when he holds up the number!

 Lor:

 YES

too adorable

 Mace:

 yep

 I'm chagrined to say that I suspect early Dean's type of flirting would never have worked on me. His later, grumpy persona would do it in a heartbeat, though

 Lor:

Dean's grumpy bit would work IMMEDIATELY

I would have been oblivious to the early flirting. I LITERALLY would be like "why is the adorable dude like this?"

 Mace:

EXACTLY. I would have been HIGHLY skeptical of his honesty

 Lor:

LOL I wouldn't even have been skeptical. just confused

 MEG

 Mace:

 Ugh Meg

 Lor:

 what is so annoying about her?

 lololol Sam's who?

 Mace:

 Ha!

YES

 Lor:

 adorable Sam getting all the info he needs

 Mace:

 YES

 Lor:

 "were you bitching about me to some chick?"

oh Dean, honey

 Mace:

 how many times do they actually say the word "supernatural" on this show, I wonder?

 Lor:

 not much I don't think

 Mace:

 (also, this is not the episode I thought it was)

 Lor:

 (oo, what episode did you think it was?)

 Mace:

(the one with whozit trying to be a hunter and sneaking out of her mom's bar (I can't remember her name either) and mooning over Dean)

  Lor:

 (oh, Jo?)

 Mace:

 (yes)

 Lor:

 (aahh)

 Mace:

 (but we haven't even met them yet right? I get so confused)

 Lor:

 (yeah, I think that's not till S2?)

 "poetry reading, or whatever it is you do"

 Mace:

 HA!

 "bite me" "bite her!"

 Lor:

 LOLOLOLOLOL

 Dean not telling Sam what the last book is he read...

 Mace:

 yeah because it was How to Heal Your Possibly-Demon-Seed Brother for Dummies

 Lor:

HAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

 Mace:

 Aw, Sammy trying not to look but not doing a great job

 Lor:

 haahahahaha

 Mace:

 Come ON, Sammy, this is clearly a TRAP

 Lor:

Sammy is sus though, surely

 Mace:

 I guess that's why he's climbing the elevator shaft, yeah

 Lor:

oooo, a weird cup and an altar

probs fine

 Mace:

 yeah

 Lor:

 it is interesting that we already know she's shady and at least demon-adjacent before this

 Mace:

 yeah

 Lor:

 so, like, this is all about Sam finding out

 Mace:

 YES

 Lor:

 TALKING TOGETHER

 Mace:

 HA!

 "Sammy's got a thing for bad girls"

Shall we talk about how you're going to have a summer of love with the King of Hell, Dean?

 Lor:

 HAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

omg

YES

 Mace:

 I LOVE that shirt on Dean

 Lor:

 YES

 Lor:

 Sammy working out his shoulder after he puts the bag down

 Mace:

 YAS

 Lor:

 oh Dean

 Mace:

 yeah

 Lor:

 "yeah, I don't want you to leave the second this thing's over, Sam"

oooof, the leaning on the dresser

 Mace:

 YES

 Lor:

 all he wants is his family I CANNOT

 Mace:

 right? my god, he's so insecure, the poor rabbit

 Lor:

 oooof that determined petulant face Dean makes when Sam says he's gonna have to let him go his own way

 Mace:

 YES

 Lor:

 "well that didn't work out like I planned"

 Mace:

 HA!

 Lor:

 I LOVE the shadow attacks in this epsiode

 Mace:

 YES

 Lor:

 clever and thematically relevant

 Mace:

 YES

 the fact that Sam is the one who figures out it's a trap for John is so interesting

 Lor:

 YES

 no he doesn't

he's completely obsessed with finding Mary's killer. he's only gonna show up bc Dean said they thought they had a lead on it

 Mace:

 YEP

 Ha! Dean still feels left out

 Lor:

LOL

 so weird for Sam to be the one getting assaulted like this

 Mace:

 the show hasn't completely shifted to being about Dean yet maybe

 Lor:

 yeah

 SAM

SO CLEVER

 Mace:

 YES

 wow the looks on both their faces when they see John

 Lor:

 RIGHT?

and the look on Dean's face when he's hugging him

I NEED him to have someone not abusive to hug him

 Mace:

 yeah

 Lor:

 and the way they "yes sir" him

 Mace:

 yep that burns my biscuits

 Lor:

 YEP

because it ISN'T the way that southerners (and maybe some midwesterners? I don't know about that) sir and ma'am their parents. it's a very different thing

 Mace:

 yeah

 that shot with Sam and John hugging and Dean looking on is fantastic

 Lor:

 YES

 Dean being practically in tears because they are making up. I can't

 Mace:

 SMARTY SAMMY

 Lor:

 YES

 Mace:

 "we almost got Dad killed in there" omg Dean

 Lor:

 oh DEAN

 he blames himself I CANNOT

 fall down a manhole and disappear, John

 Mace:

 yes, John, do that, nowish

 Lor:

 THEIR FACES

 Mace:

 YES

and John's smug bitch-ass face

 Lor:

 the grief and pain and almost tears and WITH THE BLOOD

 UG

 "Be careful, boys" because I'm sure not gonna help you out

 Mace:

 oh RIGHT that whole thing about them not showing realistic damage unless they're also super emotionally damaged

 Lor:

 YESYESYES

 Mace:

 is this the first time we see them this torn up, physically?

 Lor:

 i think it may be

 [after the episode ended:]

Lor:

it's interesting to me how much of what is awful about John is things you have to glean from what the boys say about their past and things you kind of have to think about. like, he's not actually particularly un-good in this episode? but we KNOW that he was an abusive jerk. which feels kind of realistic for a lot of familial abuse. it doesn't necessarily look so bad from the outside. I wonder if the show knows it's doing that

 Mace:

 Agreed. But I deeply suspect it was not on purpose. I love this show, but it doesn't seem sophisticated in that particular way

 Lor:

 yeah, agree. I don't think it's on purpose. also, it's possible that some of the writers were doing it on purpose and some weren’t, like in small things.

[darkhyunjin]

TMT - Chan

Genre: Smut

Words: 996

Getting home from work, she had never expected for her boyfriend to be home let alone hear strange noises coming from their shared bedroom.

She let her bag slide off of her shoulder, resting it on the floor and slowly she walked closer to the door, listening closely. Why did it sound like… moaning? Could it be? Could he be cheating on her? No… He’d never do that, right? She was about to step in when she heard the next noise. “Y/N… Fuck…”

Smirking to herself, she pushed the door open just enough to sneak in a look. Chan laid there, spread out on the bed, hand wrapped tightly around his cock while sliding up and down at a painfully slow pace. His face washed over with pleasure as he thought of his girlfriend doing that, instead of him.

“So… I can’t relieve myself when you are away but you apparently can?” Chan was left speechless staring at her silhouette that leaned against the doorframe. “You could’ve just waited for me… But you thought your hand felt better, huh?” She cocked her eyebrows up, awaiting an answer from the now blushing boy.

“Baby, I was at the studio but all that came to my mind today was you. Your body, your touch.” Chan mumbled, his fingers still around his length.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Continue. I want to watch.” Sitting down on a chair that pointed straight to the bed, she stared at her boyfriend’s figure, chuckling lowly.

Chan cleared his throat and started moving his hand again. Usually, Chris would be the one ordering you around so this change of role felt slightly odd to him, but he did as she told. He started by teasing the round head, red-looking, so eager to be touched. His lip was stuck between his teeth, biting down so hard you’d worry for it to draw blood soon.

“Don’t hold back on me, angel. I want to hear everything, all the pretty little sounds, please.” The boy sighed, frustrated but overwhelmed by his desire. Whimpers and groans started to roam the space around the both of them. It was truly an Oscar winning porn scene.

Chan’s free hand roamed the sheets, harshly gripping at it. “Please, please touch me baby. I want to feel… You.” A moan managed to sneak out between his words.

Surely, she couldn’t deny him. Her coat draped off her shoulders followed by her blouse, her skirt sliding down her thighs and falling to the cold floor, leaving the girl in nothing but her underwear, earning pleasing sounds from Chan, he had always loved the colour navy blue against her smooth skin.

Y/N crawled up on the bed, sitting down on his muscular thighs right in front of his hard length. Drooling at the view, she couldn’t resist getting a taste. Lowering her body so her lips met with the tip of his cock, licking all of his pre-cum away before sliding her tongue up and down from base to the head.

Wrapping her lips around him, she slid down his whole length, letting it reach the back of her throat with a gagging sound and a held back moan that sent shivers up and down the boy’s spine.

She bobbed her head up and down a little faster, sending Chan into a state of euphoria seen as he had been teasing himself for the past hour. By now, he couldn’t hold back any sound even if he wanted. His cock twitched against the insides of her mouth and with that, she stopped, right before he got a chance to finally release and leaving him a whiny mess under her smaller body.

“W-Why did you stop? I was… Almost there…” He whined away as she smirked. “I might explode if don’t cum soon, baby… Please…”

“Channie… Seeing you like this… Well, feel for yourself.” She whispered, blushing while taking his hand and sliding it between her legs and almost immediately, he rubbed circles around her sensitive bud, feeling how drenched she had gotten, once again making his cock twitch.

Breathy moans exited the girl’s parted lips as his fingers worked magic wonders for her as Chan drew eight-like figures above her panties but much to the angel’s dismay, he got his revenge and stopped before she could spill her juices on his bony fingers.

“I want you to come around me, I want to feel how desperately tight you get around me, baby girl.” She lost all your dominance by the use of that pet name and instantaneously did as told, sliding her panties to the side, way too desperate to take them off and sinking down his cock slowly, taking her time to adjust to his girth.

“Haven’t fucked you in so long, you feel painfully tight, I should come home early more often.” His hand found her sensitive bud again, toying with it while she bounced on his cock rapidly.

The air felt thick with sexual tension as both of them moaned loudly, not caring if anyone heard, only trying to reach their own highs. Her hips moved against his when they finally joined their lips for a passionate kiss, Chan’s free hand entangling in her locks, pulling on them slightly. Skin slapping on skin as they fastened their pace, both feeling extremely close. A trail of saliva was noticeable as they finally freed each other lips, the room filling up with moans again as they both attained their limits, Chan coating her now tightening walls in white seed as some of their mixed juices spilled out of her womanhood, the bounces getting slower and slower until they completely stopped.

Y/N’s body collapsed on Chan’s, both panting as his arms wrapped around her figure before pecking her lips when they calmed down.

“Let’s stay like this for a little bit, angel… I love to be buried inside you.”

She chuckled, mumbling out a ‘dork’ before closing her eyes. “I love you.”

[tomdiddlyumptious]

help me shift 👹

MAKING SURE YOU ARE CLEAR OF WHAT YOU WANT.

Please make sure you are clear of what you want! If you are not clear of what you want you might accidentally shift into somewhere DONT wanna be. To avoid this make sure you watch a video of where you wanna shift to before you do it. 

Example: i watch peter parker 5 minute videos of clips of him being a dork or etc, i look at peter parker/tom holland pictures of him holding a guitar because as you came from kats blog you know i like peter parker singing to me, i might look at video clips of him singing, but he doesnt sing in his new york voice so i have to imagine that on my own.

Example: i shifted to five nights at freddies, they ended up having an orgy. scary<3.

REMEMBER THIS IS YOUR REALITY.

In your desired reality you can make whatever you want to. If everytime you clap you hands you make zendaya teleport to give you a kiss YOU CAN DO THAT. if you want to control your desired reality, meaning in you control everything they say YOU CAN DO THAT. just make sure you have a script. Its basically like writing a blurb or a series if you do that! You can look like whatever you want to, if you wanna be 11111’9 you can be that!, if you wanna be rich you can be that!

Example: i might write on my script that everytime i shift to my reality that i wake up cuddling peter parker, then hed wake up while i am making breakfast and remind me of how beautiful i am and wrap his arms around my waist.

Example: i own a house that would be 4 million dollars in my cr, but when i shifted into my dr it only costed a single dollar and i dont have to pay rent.

Example: sadly my family isnt supportive of the lgbtq+ so in my dr i stick to they/them but as i progress i have peter help me of who i wanna be the next day, she/they, or he/they. If you dont recall i made a post about seed of chucky, how i am basically glen/glenda because i cannot figure it out, yeah….peter made that joke- sometimes hed tell tony how beautiful his boyfriend is, which i totally love him for that, or how beautiful his girlfriend is, which is so loving to me. 

SHIFTING.

I personally do not support permanent shifting!! Nor do i consider it. Because you might miss your family, your friends, and something might happen to then while youre gone. Also, do not become attached. It can cause extreme sadness and probably depression (i personally havent went through this because i dont know how dumb my clone is and theyd probably walk in a grocery store without their mask on)

Example: if i were to shift to somewhere permanent, say ive been there for about a year, and i dont know how long ive been shifted in my real life, you might be in your dr for one year but what if in your cr youve been gone for 3?? Remember you dont remember ANYTHING from your cr while youve been gone to your dr one.

Example: peter parker says i love you and i hope youre here forever and now you dont wanna leave him but you have to go. And then you get so stressed about it that you cant shift but you miss him so much.

Example: i come back from my dr and have to take a covid test for my job just to find out that i have it, but then i become confused, i havent been anywhere. And then boom it comes to you that youve shifted and you cant control anything. 

SCRIPTS.

Scripts are great!! They take a lot of time tho. Thats why i recommend you do it on docs instead of paper and then maybe print it out. If you wanna. My script isnt fully finished AT ALL but i am clear of what i want to it helps too. Scripts help out with what you want fully! You can always change it anytime you like, make different ones, and anything youd like! In your script you can write out how others think of you, your appearance, the way you smell, the way you act, your love interests, your hobbies, your family, and your backstory.  You can add your cr friends, shift celebs in and more! Add in what your house looks like!

Example: appearance: i have large blue eyes, my waist is 1’ inch and i am so skinny, i am the only beautiful girl in school. Mood: i cry when someone calls me annoying and pushes me, but then sings this is my fight song and becomes very confident and making everyone join me singing to the bully making them drop to the floor and cry, making me feel sad and helping them up before we become friends and they hurt my heart again, breaking it before i sing again making them move away forever and make me so popular in school, making peter parker want me and do my homework making me have all A+s

Example: backstory: i was born into the richest mafia and when i was five my parents died in a car crash.

Example: love interests: peter parker, we met at the ice skating rink and i accidentally fell, he made fun of me and hates my guts and he calls me a whore everytime making me look down to me feet “i-i-i-i-i-i-i im so s-sorry!” and then i ran away. MJ, we met in class, she drew me. I dont like her because she too nice, but she likes me and compliments me on my small waist. Haz osterfield. Hes so rich and he calls me a good girl everytime he accidentally drops his pencil and asks me to pic me up, i let out a gentle “UwU” before doing a ahegao face before he shoves his two fingers down my throat<3

WAITING ROOMS.

Your waiting room is your safe place, it can look like an office, like a bedroom, a livingroom. Anything you want. You use waiting rooms if you arent ready to go to your dr, if you wanna take a break from your dr. there can be multiple doors, from different realities, you can have an assistant who checks up on you every time you come in and out of the room. 

Example: my waiting room is a soft coffee brown, contains of six doors, looking around i see a large tall green plant right next to a assistant desk, finding harrison osterfield with glasses, clicking through my realities, keeping up files, making sure nothing is going wrong and throwing some suggestions spicing up the reality i choose. The six doors lead to, New york, Queens, the space ship of guardians of the galaxy, Mean girls, Hogwarts, a famous lifestyle with tom holland, a regular life style with tom holland, and a school of a mix of Ron, the twins, Harry, peter parker, MJ, haz, ned, oliver wood, betty. Carl from shameless, Otis from sex ed, the hold stranger things circle, and etc<3.

METHODS.

Methods help you to shift. You can make your own even. I use the heartbeat method, the alice in wonderland method, and the raven method. 

Alice in wonderland: imagine yourself sitting against a tree, a book in your hands as you could help but look up and see (love interest/friend in cr) run past, it made you look, your confused as you stand up running after them. There much ahead of you, just running straight as you could hear their footsteps against the floor before they suddenly stopped, right before jumping down a rabbit hole, your eyebrows furrow before you walk up to the hole you watched as his body became littler and littler, suddenly feeling the urge to fall down the rabbit hole, you do. As you fall freely down the rabbit whole you find yourself letting go of th things you dont want. What do you not want, your homework? Your car? Your landlord? Your prince-able? Your cheap toaster? And as you think about it you slowly drop, your eyes closing and your feet meeting the ground as you imagine your eyes open. Looking around you find white walls, 6 white doors, three on each side with golden handles. But you didnt feel connected to those so you continued to walk down the hallway. Coming to a stop you looked left and right, finding your love interest on the right with a small golden key in their hand. They smile at you, walking over, the grab your hand, their hand warm holding yours before they ask, “are you ready?” you say yes, they smile and turn their head to their right, you did the same, finding another door. They let your hands go “see you on the other side y/n” they smiled before walking off. You looked at the key in your hand before walking up to the door, putting the key in and turning it, haring the door unlock and you opened the door. Finding yourself in your dr room, finding your dr self sleeping in their bed. You close the door behind you, walking to the body and opening the blanket to lay ontop of them. You slowly feel your soul seeping into your dr self, feeling tingles throughout your body as you entered your dr one. You have shifted. 

Heartbeat method: you play heartbeat sounds on your phone (perferably the app musi) and lay your head on top of the pillow, hearing the heartbeats you imagine its your dr love interest laying under you. I personally listen to the humming one too. As you fall asleep you should feel the shifting side effects.

Raven method: you can lay anyway you want, just make sure your limbs arent touching. You close your eyes softly and slowly count to 100, you might have to do it over and over again. But as the numbers pass you can say affirmations, or “past memories” or imagine yourself with your dr love intrest/friend. 

The way i do it is, i use the alice in wonderland method first, but instead of laying down by myself i imagine my dr love interest came inside of the room with me, laid down next to my dr self and told me to “come on” or i imagine theirs double of us (dr peter parker) and we shift together, then after that the heartbeat method plays, while im still laying down with peter and im ontop of his chest im listening to his heartbeat, im also counting, closing everything else out but either his “heartbeat” or my breathing while counting up to 100.  There is also shifting guidance here. I suggest you make a playlist with the alice in wonderland and then the heartbeat method or do them separately if you want!

Now, i am not the best of them all but this is what i could provide!!

[angelofthequeers]

Salt-Kissed Lips

Disclaimer: I don't own ML.

My contribution to the Leap of Faith zine by @ladrienzine now that we’re allowed to publish our works! It was so awesome to work with everyone involved and it really solidified my love for these blushing dorks!

“Isn’t it fascinating?”

“Father!” Adrien’s heart nearly leaps out of his body through his throat. But when he whirls around, Gabriel Agreste is far from angry.

“I always knew they existed,” the older man says in a hushed voice. His grey-streaked blond hair, madly gleaming cold grey eyes, and pale skin tinged a sickly blue by the light of the gigantic tank are more than enough to give him the look of a mad scientist without the need for some cliché white lab coat. “Everyone called me crazy. But I always knew my Emilie was taken by one of them!”

Adrien’s not exactly sure what to say. Oh, he’s not surprised to see a real mermaid in the flesh; his father’s been obsessed with “the blue tail in the moonlight” that he’d seen just after Emilie’s disappearance for so long that Adrien would’ve been more surprised to find that they didn’t exist. It’s just that he’s never seen Gabriel quite so…unhinged before now.

“They want to take my Emilie?” Gabriel says. “I’ll take one of them! I need to make some phone calls, Adrien. Soon, the whole world will know that these things are real and I’m not crazy! People will stop avoiding you and thinking of you as the crazy man’s son! Take a good look at that thing and know that it’s the reason your mother is gone!”

Once Gabriel’s gone, Adrien turns back to the massive tank that’s part of the marine park in which Gabriel works. The brilliant blue eyes that glare back at him are so full of venom that it’s a wonder they’re not shooting jellyfish barbs at him – wait, can mermaids even do that? Can they speak human languages? Or breathe air? What can they do?

“I’m sorry,” he says. Whether or not she can hear or understand him, he at least needs to make it clear to himself that he’s not his father. The sight of the girl with long dark hair in pigtails, a vivid scarlet tail dotted with black scales, and matching scales across her chest and face, almost like a mask, is like mild indigestion in his gut.

This is wrong. Okay, so Emilie might have been taken by a merperson, and Gabriel’s got every right to be full of grief. But keeping a mermaid prisoner and turning her into an exhibit to be gawked at for the rest of her life? There’s no way Adrien can justify this to himself. The hatred in her eyes isn’t helping, and neither is the fact that…wow, she’s stunning.

Oh no. Does this make Adrien a scaly?

Snap out of it! That’s not important right now!

The seed of a daring idea suddenly sprouts in his mind. Should he dare –?

Gabriel will be furious.

But this is the right thing to do.

But can he disappoint his father?

It’s not like Gabriel’s been much of a father since Emilie’s disappearance. He’s pretty much been raised by Nathalie, his father’s assistant.

He can’t let this happen. If he sits back and lets Gabriel turn this mermaid into an aquarium animal, he’s just as bad as the man that people associate him with. And if there’s one thing he’s not, it’s Gabriel Agreste.

“Hey.” He lightly taps the glass. The mermaid bares her jagged teeth and recoils, her black pigtails billowing around her like seaweed. “I’m gonna get you out, okay?” When she doesn’t seem to comprehend him, he points at himself, then at her, then up at the top of the tank. The hostility fades from her face, replaced with a puzzled frown. “Just hold on.”

Adrien bolts up the stairs out of the room as fast as humanly possible. He can’t be caught – he just can’t – if he’s caught, Gabriel will totally end him – whatever love the man has for his son can’t be any stronger than his rabid obsession with avenging Emilie.

Once Adrien’s outside and at the edge of the tank, he pauses. Is he really going to do this? Betray his father like this? After all these years of searching for the thing that took Emilie…

But this mermaid isn’t to blame. And she’s not a thing. Besides, will Gabriel really just up and be a better father once he’s turned this mermaid into a freak show? Or will he continue to obsess over her and soak up the glory of such a discovery?

Before he can once again doubt himself, Adrien sticks his hand into the tank and splashes, hoping to attract her attention. Once she’s up here, he can grab her and haul her out, smuggle her through the park somehow, down to the beach nearby –

Something grabs his wrist and yanks him into the tank. He yelps, although this is a bad move as his mouth is instantly full of water – he can’t breathe, the mermaid’s eyes are boring into him, he’s gonna be fish food –

He struggles even harder when the mermaid grabs his face. But rather than try and devour him with her terrifying teeth, she wrenches his mouth open and blows bubbles into it. Adrien reflexively swallows…and whoa, he’s not drowning! He can breathe underwater as effortlessly as in air!

“I’m Adrien. What’s your name?” he says to test this, and his voice rings in his head like echolocation in the marine documentaries he loves watching.

“I don’t trust you enough to give you my name. What do you think I should be called?” The mermaid’s voice is melodic, like she’s singing as she talks. It’s a sound that Adrien would gladly record and hoard for himself to listen to again and again; a sound that’s just as beautiful as the girl to whom it belongs.

“Um…” Two strips of red seaweed woven through her pigtails float above her head, almost like antennae, making her resemble a very fishy insect, especially with her wide eyes behind the red scale mask and her black-spotted red tail. “You kind of look like a – a ladybug…”

“Ladybug…” the mermaid says slowly, as though testing the word. “Ladybug. I am Ladybug.” She tilts her head, examining Adrien as though he’s a particularly interesting specimen. Which is ironic, given their positions. “You’re not like the other one. He’s full of hate.”

“I’m sorry about him,” Adrien says. He instinctively reaches out to take one of Ladybug’s pale, red-webbed hands, but stops himself just in time in case touching a mermaid is offensive or uncomfortable for her or something. “He thinks a merperson took my mother years ago. He’s been obsessed with avenging her ever since.”

“We don’t take humans,” Ladybug growls. “Humans beg to come with us. Many of my kind are humans that we saved from their own lives, whether they hated them or were in danger or simply discontent.”

“You think my mum…hated her life?” Adrien tries to wrap his head around this new information. Would Emilie really have gone freely with the merpeople? Left Gabriel? Left…him? Sure, their lives hadn’t been perfect, but no life is, right?

“I don’t know,” Ladybug says. “But if you help me escape, I will gladly share more information with you. I’ve always been fascinated by humans. My friends warned me not to come too close to shore…I should have listened to them…”

“Right! Yeah!” Adrien says. “If I lift you out, I can carry you out of here. There’s a beach just outside here. You can breathe air, right?”

Ladybug smiles and nods. The sight should be terrifying, what with how her sharp teeth are bared like he’s a tasty morsel, but it’s actually kind of cute and makes her look gorgeous, even if the blue tank light is making her appear rather ghostly. Swallowing, he kicks for the surface and emerges into the warm air with a gasp, then hauls himself out of the tank and leans at the edge to dip his hand back in. Ladybug’s head surfaces just a moment later. Now in the natural light of the late afternoon sun, her skin has a rosy glow to it that just enhances her prettiness, and Adrien’s stomach does a flip-flop as he carefully drags her out of the water.

“Thank you, Adrien,” Ladybug says. Adrien takes a moment to adjust her in his grip, shivering at the way her glittery, slippery tail hooks around his arm for extra support. It doesn’t feel earthly, but it also doesn’t feel like the fish he and Gabriel have caught many times before on the rare occasion that Gabriel would spend father-son time with him. Or maybe that was just a way to keep an eye out for mermaids.

“So…you guys “save” humans, right?” Adrien whispers as he stumbles through the building. Thank god that it’s after closing time, so he’s not bumping into people everywhere he turns.

“Yes,” Ladybug says. “We’re not kidnappers. We only take humans of their own free will.”

“Uh…how exactly do you do that? Just constantly blow bubbles in our mouths?”

Ladybug giggles. The sound nearly makes Adrien fall over and cry at the unfairness. How can one person – mermaid – have such a beautiful voice? Maybe Ariel had been truer to life than he’d thought.

“Our kisses have many effects on humans,” she says. “We can entrance them. We can cure them. We can cause disease in them. We can also turn them into one of us.”

“Whoa. Seriously?” Adrien’s brain wants to implode at this overload of information, though thankfully it doesn’t betray him as he carefully pushes the entrance doors open with his shoulder and sets off down the path to the beach. “You can actually make me one of you?”

Ladybug once again regards him with her curious head-tilt. “Would you like that?” she says. “Your father is not a very nice man, is he?”

“He’s doing the best he can,” Adrien says automatically. “He’s still not over Mum’s disappearance.” But even as he says the words, he knows they’re a lie. When’s the last time Gabriel had hugged him? Spoken to him for a purpose other than to issue an order? Spent time with him outside of obsessing over merpeople and dragging Adrien into his vengeful crusade?

And it’s not like anyone else likes Adrien either. When your father’s loony and mermaid-obsessed, people don’t generally see the point in assuming that you’re any better. Crazy by association, he’s been branded. Either that or other mermaid fanatics pester him for information and access to his father.

“The transformation is reversible,” Ladybug says as though reading his mind. Who knows, maybe she can? “If you ever decide that you’re unhappy, you can return to the land. But I wouldn’t be able to associate with you if you chose that. It would be too dangerous for –”

“Adrien! Come back this instant!”

Adrien gasps and ducks behind a thick clump of bushes, praying to every deity above that there’s no sign of them sticking out for Gabriel to see.

“Son! You know how important this is to me!” Now there’s a plea in Gabriel’s voice. “Bring the mermaid back! Do it for your mother!”

But if Ladybug’s right, Emilie would want him to do the exact opposite: to free Ladybug, not take her back to captivity. Squaring his shoulders, Adrien takes a deep breath and then makes a run for it down the sandy trail to the beach. He doesn’t remain unspotted for long; after a few moments, Gabriel shouts his name.

“Bring my mermaid back or you’ll be in more trouble than you could ever imagine!” his father bellows. Adrien’s lungs are burning – his legs are like jelly – he’s fit, sure, but this could be a literal matter of life or death – just a little further, over the soft sand and down the wet, crunchy layer –

The minute his legs hit the waves lapping the shore, Ladybug wriggles and squirms until he loses his grip on her. Although they’re in the shallows and she can’t swim, she’s able to gracefully roll further into the water until the waves catch her and pull her out. Adrien’s heart stops in his chest at the sight of the beautiful mermaid in the light of the setting sun, her tail such a beautiful, deep red and her blue eyes just as piercing as they’d been in the tank.

“Adrien Agreste!” Gabriel’s emerging from the sandy path now. His eyes are wild behind his glasses, and he’s practically frothing at the mouth. Whoops. Adrien is so grounded.

“Adrien!” Ladybug holds out her hand. “Come with me?”

Stay with his fuming father, who’ll probably lock him away for ten years for letting a mermaid go? Who hasn’t even really raised him while obsessing over Ladybug’s kind? Or go with Ladybug, who’d only shown him hostility out of self-preservation and had given him even just a little closure about his mother?

“How can you steal years of work from me?” Gabriel shouts. “Your mother would be ashamed to even call you her son!”

Time seems to stand still as Adrien makes his decision and sprints out into the crashing waves. His hand closes around Ladybug’s just as Gabriel reaches the ocean, and the mermaid grips him tightly and heaves him out until he can’t even touch the bottom.

“Adrien?” Gabriel says. Adrien looks over his shoulder, directly into Gabriel’s eyes.

“My mother would have been proud of me for doing the right thing,” are his final words to Gabriel Agreste before Ladybug tugs him into the orange ocean. When he tries to breathe and gulps in water, he realises that Ladybug’s bubble magic must have worn off…but then she’s cupping his face and kissing him, and all he can do is inhale seawater and kiss back, his eyes fluttering closed, her lips plump and salty…wait, why can’t he kick anymore, why don’t his legs work, how can he breathe so much better than before…

His eyes fly open when Ladybug pulls away. The first thing that catches his eyes is the glimmering black tail that’s replaced his legs, with brilliant green fins instead of feet and green fins up the sides of the tail. Then he looks at his hands and finds green webbing between his fingers, and there are black scales going up his torso diagonally – and there are gills on his neck –

Holy. Heck. He’s a merman. Ladybug had been telling the truth! A melodic giggle escapes the mermaid beside him, and it’s a trip to realise that he can see her clearly despite the growing lack of light.

“You make a very handsome merman, Adrien,” Ladybug says, kissing his cheek. She takes his hand and interlinks their fingers. “Are you ready to go now?”

Adrien looks back towards the shore, where Gabriel’s face can be seen above, twisted in fury and distorted through the water. Then he looks at Ladybug and her shining eyes and pretty smile, and his decision is made.

“Let’s go, Ladybug,” he says.

[cchexmex]

Inspiration and motivation is a strange animal. Kotalblack fluff, dorks in love being... all out dorks. Warning, it’s a long one.

inspired by a fic by @nevaryadl that involved some mulling over “spicy” literature

“Have you even opened this?” Turning the book over in his hands Erron reread the title, piquing a brow at the cover art.

“I read a few passages…” The response was soft and casual, Kotal undressing himself slowly at the foot of the bed. He easily did away with the forearm guards as he watched Erron, face placid yet lost in thought while Erron stretched out further on the bed and flipped through the book.

“Yeah…” Erron chuckled, lingering momentarily on any pages that caught his attention before continuing his search through the book. Purchased on their last foray in Earthrealm, hidden away and seemingly forgotten in his rucksack. “His seed… don’t tell me this is about actual plant sex…”

“I won’t tell you.”

Throwing himself back against the bed Erron snorted, settling the open book on top of his face to cover a crooked grin as he listened to Kotal’s rumbling laughter. “Is that why you picked it?” Voice muffled by the pages, Erron wondered out loud.

“No… the cover was intriguing. It did not even pass my mind that it would be literal…” Kotal murmured gently as he set aside his remaining gear before plopping himself onto the bed with a low moan. Erron laughed again, remembering the moment they had stood in the cluttered aisles of a small book store-pouring over the erotic literature section with shared grins and teasing laughter. He opened his eyes slowly, narrowing them slightly as he caught sight of Kotal’s face as he leaned close and picked the book up and off of his face. Thumbing through it Kotal sighed deeply, moving to put it away before Erron clicked his tongue and intercepted. He grabbed the book from Kotal’s hands, smirking at Kotal as a surprised smile pulled his features.

“Story time…”

Kotal laughed and covered his face with both hands, shoulders shaking lightly as Erron settled and pushed against his arms-motioning for Kotal to pull him in. Repeating Erron’s words, Kotal lifted his arm and grasped Erron’s shoulder, squeezing tightly as Erron feigned a pained groan and opened the book up to a random spot. Perfectly warm, Erron paused and stared at the page, feeling the jitters of laughter that left Kotal’s chest, feeling himself rocked and swayed by shifting muscle. Refocusing himself, Erron looked up at Kotal and pulled a face, urging him to settle down.

“He took hold of the hem of his hoodie and pulled it over his head… his hands, Alex noted, were shaking…” Licking his lips Erron finished the sentence, once again finding himself plainly staring. “Let’s try something else…”

“My yollotl…” Kotal groaned, cheeks flushing red as he grinned. He reached for the book, Erron flipping through the pages and moving the book out of Kotal’s reach as best as he could. “This is not the proper way…”

Erron gasped through a hiccup of laughter, brushing away Kotal’s hand and tutting as Kotal continued to half heartedly complain. “We’re doing it my way… talking ‘bout proper…” fixing a stern face, Erron craned his neck back and stared up at Kotal, noting how he tried to fight back a laugh, his efforts showing through how his face was now a dark shade of blush and his lower lip quivered. “What?”

“Don’t”

“I ain’t doing nothing, you're the one not letting me read...” Erron furrowed his brow deeper, now fighting back his own grin that threatened to erupt across his face, stomach shaking and tensing as he took in deep gulps of breath to stave off his laughter. He couldn’t help himself, forcing his face into a more tense mask of faux sternness, pouting his lips as Kotal groaned.

“Please…” Erron chuckled, setting the book against his stomach as Kotal pleaded through a rough laugh. He reached up, fingers grazing against Kotal’s neck as he dragged him down towards his face. A swift kiss, Erron smiled softly through it, feeling Kotal relax against his body before squeezing him tightly.

“We good?” Opening the book again Erron smirked, watching as Kotal rolled his eyes before nodding his head. “Good…” Erron found a new spot, clearing his throat before he began anew, Kotal resting his cheek against Erron’s temple and dropping his free hand onto his bare stomach, fingers scratching softly through rough hair.

“Alex moaned erotically…” Letting the words hang in the air, Erron shut his eyes tightly and pushed into Kotal’s chest. “What?” Erron sputtered out, more to himself than to Kotal. He repeated the word, glancing back at Kotal.

Kotal stared intently at the book, rubbing a hand up and down Erron’s shaking stomach. “He moaned erotically, Erron.”

“Erotically…”

Kotal pursed his lips together “Erotically…” he echoed Erron with a growing smile, dropping the natural candor of his voice.

A jump in his gut, Erron tossed aside the book and grasped his sides tightly-falling off into a pained coughing fit as Kotal propped himself up on elbow and smirked. Trying to regain his breath, Erron groaned and rolled onto his stomach, face stuffed into the sheets below him, listening to the self satisfied chuckles leaving Kotal and picturing the smirk that surely still lingered on his face. “Bubba…” Erron whined, taking in a gulp of air as he lifted himself up and sat on his knees “I ain’t reading no more…”

Kotal let himself fall back again, covering his face with his arms, chest rising and falling heavily. Erron reached up and brushed his hair out of his eyes, a deep red flush patchy across his chest and neck. He looked at Kotal, watching with a soft smile as his stomach shook and hollowed with sharp breaths, a warmth billowing in his lower gut as he considered the sentence that left them like this. “Bubba…” Moving closer toward him, Erron hummed under his breath, lifting a leg and swinging it over Kotal’s waist. He kept himself off of Kotal, a slight strain in his hips as his legs spread wide. Hands, warm and strong-drifted and gently prodded along Erron’s thighs before coming to rest against his hips, directing him down.

“Hmm?”

Erron smiled back at Kotal, appreciating the wetness at the corners of his eyes and the tremble of laughter that was still present in his voice. He sank down further against Kotal, sitting on his lower abdomen, every so slightly lifted with each breath. Moving lower, he considered it but decided against it, instead leaning forward and placing both hands on either side of Kotal’s head. “An erotic moan… how about it? Give me one…” dipping his head down, he teased the promise of a kiss, drinking in how Kotal’s brow pinched before he slowly shut his eyes and parted his lips. Erron ghosted his mouth beside those wanting lips, kissing gently against hot cheeks before he leaned his head back and fixed his gaze. Kotal squeezed his hands tighter, making Erron tense his lips and roll his lower lip into his mouth, biting down lightly on it. He tipped his chin up, offering up a plaintive expression to Kotal.

“I…” Kotal started, the blush on his face deepening as he looked up at Erron. He parted his lips, letting slip a simple moan, short and high in his chest, a grin spreading across his face as Erron raised his brows, forehead wrinkling deeply.

“That… was not erotic. Sounded like you hit your funny bone…”

“Funny bone? I thought that was called the weenis…”

Erron dropped his head, short huffs of air leaving him, below him Kotal laughed and slapped his hands gently against Erron’s thighs. “No, that… that’s the skin…” Erron tried to explain through his laughter, brushing away Kotal’s hands as he picked up on the sneaky prods and pokes that were trailing up higher.

“Would you like me to try again? I’m not certain how erotic I can be…”

“Oh hush…” dropping his voice, Erron leaned forward again and drifting a thumb along the deep crease beside Kotal’s smile, dragging up to rub a small circle against his cheekbone. Kotal’s smile fell, replaced by soft contemplation, warm eyes drifting up and down Erron’s face. A low sigh escaped Erron, heart drumming away happily in his chest, he sank down further, cupping Kotal’s face with both hands and tipping his chin up. Lips met, hot and burning, exhaled breath fluttering around flushed skin-Erron parted his mouth and shut his eyes tightly as Kotal slipped his tongue inside and explored his mouth. Pulling back slightly, Erron dragged his knees further apart and slid back onto Kotal’s lap-breathing hard against Kotal’s thick lips as he tried to sit up. He smiled to himself, licking his lips before placing a soft kiss against those wanting lips, trailing another up, on Kotal’s nose and lastly onto his forehead. Half lidded blue, shining hot white irises tracked Erron’s movements as he slowly sat back. An ache in his chest, watching Kotal’s eyes burn into him, Erron placed his hands on his hips and lazily shook his head.

“What were we talking about…” Searching out the book again, Erron teased-ears a bright red and practically sizzling.

Kotal shrugged and resumed his slow pokes and prods into Erron’s thighs, a lopsided grin painting his features as his eyes barely opened.

“Are you going to moan for me?”

“Huh?” Erron’s brows jumped up, stomach flipping at the soft utterance of his question “oh… yeah…” a gentle laugh shook his belly, Kotal reaching a hand up and gripping loosely below Erron’s armpit. “I’ll give you a good one…” with a wink Erron leaned forward again, pushing aside the crumpled sheets that tickled against his bare knees. “Ready?”

“More than…”

Erron dragged in a breath, puffing out his chest before throwing his head back and letting loose a high pitched howl. Throwing his hands down, he steadied himself on Kotal’s chest-laughing in rough bursts as he felt Kotal’s chest rise harshly and a low whine of jumbled words and laughter erupted from the man. “Erron…” his name longly drawn out, Kotal scrunched his face and wrinkled his nose as he snorted through laughter. Clapping his hands together, Erron sat back further and proudly smirked down at Kotal, little chuckles now replacing the heaved out laughter.

“Oh I know that turned you on…” dropping himself back down, Erron pushed his arms under Kotal’s neck-hugging him loosely and pushing their chests together. He eagerly teased, laughing along with Kotal and kissing his cheeks.

[pollylynn]

Title: The Glass Cell WC: 1600

“You know reality isn’t fiction, right?”  — Dr. Clark Murray, A Death in the Family (1 x 10)

She wears a dress of her mom’s to prom, he decides. He imagines it in detail—cut-work lace over taffeta in bright emerald green, a satin empire waist band a shade darker, a full A-line skirt. He envisions her with mismatched quasi-punky hair hanging down to half hide her dramatic eye-makeup. She stands out, of course. In a sea of off-the-shoulder, halter neck, heavy fabrics in primary colors—crayon red, royal blue, black, black, white, white, red again, with an ill-advised plunge neckline. She stands out. 

She likes her date, though she doesn’t exactly let him know that. He imagines that, too. She doesn’t exactly let anyone know that she likes this boy on the verge of being a man, because she’s not sure that she’s supposed to. He’s quiet and sensitive. Not a dork—not outright unpopular, but a dark horse candidate for asking her in the first place, and her unexpected, unhesitating yes had sent shockwaves through the eleventh grade. 

She is awkward on the dance floor. She is a vision in her mother’s dress, but there is architecture to it. There is a hidden foundation that requires time travel of her ribs, her spine, her hips, and her date—the boy on the verge of being a man—has no idea where to put his hands during the slow songs. She has no idea where to put hers, so she locks her fingers behind his neck. She breathes Let’s get out of here well before Boyz II Men get to the spoken-word part, and they do. 

They race across the ballroom with their fingers linked, laughing like fools. They leave her friends, his friends, the tiny intersection of their friends to gawp as they bang through the double doors.They roam the streets around the hotel in a spiral pattern, talking and talking. 

She shivers and pulls the cream-colored silk-and-seed-pearl wrap close around her. With well-intentioned gallantry, he tries to drop his tuxedo jacket over her shoulders. He misses, and they both watch in horror as the long tails drag through something nameless and awful before he can catch it. 

The hem of her dress is dirty and her mom’s dyed-to-match pumps with their rhinestone butterfly clips will never be the same. But they share french fries at a nameless diner. They share a tentative kiss in the back of a cab as the boy escorts her home. They share a burning, frenzied, back-against-the-glass follow-up in the doorway of her apartment as the sun comes up. 

She misses curfew by a lot. Her mom brings her coffee and toast in bed long after morning has tipped over into afternoon. She asks a million impertinent questions about the boy she likes, about the evening, about her plans to save up for what should be an astonishing dry cleaning bill. 

This is how it happens. This is what he decides. 

**********************

She sprains her ankle on move-in day. He knows. He sees clearly how the events unfold. 

She has a plan. She has keys in hand by 8:01 am. She has a spot for the van with her things, hardly a block away, and her second-hand office chair can serve as a makeshift dolly. She has almost nothing. It’ll be two dozen quick trips, she figures, but the apartment is full of junk. 

Oh yeah, the creepy building manager tells her, last guy skipped out. 

The junk is her problem, apparently. Her problem. She plumps down on some kind of ottoman and immediately regrets it as an oily smell rises up. It’s not just the ottoman, though. The whole place reeks of food and animal fat. She registers the distant clatter of dishes, of silverware, and the hiss of a hot grill rising up through the floor. 

She props her elbows on her knees and her chin on her fists. She wastes ten precious minutes of the three hours before she has to have the van back contemplating the space that is smaller, dingier, filthier than the unit she saw when she signed the lease. 

She hauls herself up and lugs the ottoman and a broken laundry basket full of dirty t-shirts with her down to the dumpster. She bumps milk crates full of electronics odds and ends down the stairs. She carries awkward lamps like jousting lances. 

It’s a box of kitchen things that does her in. It’s a mile wide and heavy. She knows she should unpack and repack it. She should make two trips, three, four, but she’s tired of this. She misses a step. She goes down to the landing. She can feel the rush of heat into the ankle she has wrenched badly. 

There’s a neighbor—a pair of neighbors—who hear the commotion. They rescue her, Cleo and Pete, who are just a little older than she is. They extricate her from underneath the box. They help her into their apartment and give her an ice pack. They give her a stiff drink and an ace bandage. 

They share stories about the guy who skipped out in the middle of the night—his questionable activities and his even more questionable taste in music. They order pizza and won’t take her money when she offers. The three of them agree that the building manager almost certainly collects clown paintings by serial killers. 

They insist that she spend the night on their couch. She protests. She tries to put weight on her ankle, then gives in. She spends her first night not in her first apartment staring at a ceiling that belongs to strangers with tears leaking from the corners of her eyes because her fucking ankle hurts. Because she doesn’t have the money to pay for another day of the damned van. Because her mother is dead and she is alone in the world. 

He knows all this. He sees it clearly. 

************************

He cannot picture the shadows on her skin in that basement room. He sees the backs of his own hands criss-crossed infinitely with weak, unflattering light coming in through the cage. But he cannot see hers. Would her fingernails be as neat and no-fuss as they are today, or would they have been ragged with the pain of all the long years before she made it that far? 

Would she—and the possibility is like a lattice work of burning hot ice spreading through him from the inside—would she have gotten the chain for her mother’s ring when she first put on the uniform? Was there a time in that dingy apartment—in her college days with her dad drowning and her left wrist as yet bare—was there a time when when she would have slipped it on her finger each morning instead of ducking her head to let the delicate links of a think gold chain slither down over her collar bones?

He doesn’t know, any more than he knows if she would have risked the rickety table with its hard, back-breaking chair. He cannot say whether she would have waited for the most desolate hour each possible night, then set to work right where he did, or if she would have, instead, arranged herself on the cracked tile floor, knees drawn up and hunched over the tight beam of a penlight. 

He looks for signs of her in the creases and ragged edges, the rusty indentation of an ancient paperclip removed and replaced, the corner of a thin stack torn away along with a now-missing staple in a moment of frustration. He scours the faded, triple-carbon paperwork and holds the glossy, terrible photos at an oblique angle to the light from his desk lamp, the light from his computer screen. In the riot of smudged, overlapping fingerprints he wonders which might be hers. 

It’s no use, this afterthought of a search. She is nowhere. There is no detail remembered from his own few hours spent in that basement room, no physical trace of her presence in the file itself that sparks the rush of absolute clarity with which he envisions her at the junior prom, her on move-in day at that first three-story walk-up that smelled of chicken wings. 

She is nowhere, because he has never once bothered to imagine her—not once. He relives the abrupt sting of her rapped out pair of questions—You don’t think I’ve haven’t been down there? You don’t think I haven’t memorized every line in that file? He sits, staring at the file now with tide of shame advancing, receding, advancing. 

He didn’t think. In all these weeks, he has not once thought about the space between the wound delivered and the scars she bears. He has not once thought about the dreams she must have cast off, what it must have cost her to forge a path to that basement room. He has not once considered what those long years must have been like. He has never stopped to ask himself how the woman she is now—the relentless, fiercely intelligent, extraordinary woman he has come to know—could ever have come to accept her mother’s death as a random, wayward event.

He thinks now. He asks himself now. He tries, now, to picture the shadows on her skin, the tense outline of her body and the tight beam of a penlight. He tries to imagine that lonely work, but he can’t. 

She is gone from him. She is nowhere.  A/N: This is an especially weird not!thing. I had to decide that Castle has the actual Johanna Beckett file that he’s taken, not just copies. That doesn’t make much sense, but the autopsy photos look to be originals, complete with labels and handling wear. Fixation on those details is just a distraction from how not a thing this is. 

images via homeofthenutty