#this show has ALWAYS been about taking the universe in your hands and moulding it to whatever you want

[msnihilist]

Sorry, but Phineas and Ferb going to college as adults is soooo fake. 1) What the fuck is college gonna teach them? 2) They're both WAY too restless to study for four years or more for ONE degree. They spent a single afternoon building to the MOON. FOUR YEARS might as well be an ETERNITY. Spending that in SCHOOL?? WASTE OF TIME.

[fuwushiguro]

The Pinks and Blues, The Yellow Hues

Day Twenty-Seven: Cucking | 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Dabi x f!reader x Hawks Genre: Smut Notes: Dabi is mean but he doesn't like it when he gets a taste of his own medicine 🤧 Warnings: 18+, dubcon/noncon, vaginal sex, manipulation, voyeurism, cheating, fingering, handjob (a lil DabiHawks action), alcohol, drugging, bondage, cucking, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, daddy kink, creampies, overstimulation, virginity loss. Words: 3.9k

Whose idea was it to take a trip to your parent’s holiday home in Bali again? You like to think it was you; it’s better than thinking you were manipulated into it by your boyfriend. Touya isn’t a bad guy, he just knows what he wants. Always. He wanted you, he got you. He wanted your virginity, he got it. He wanted this trip, and here you are. You flew out before him. You wanted time to set up and get organised. You got balloons and rose petals to try and make the place a little romantic. It was your first vacation together, after all. But it was less than desirable news when Touya called you a few days after you landed. The day before his flight. He’s bringing a plus one.

He should have asked before inviting his best friend Keigo along.

All hostility towards your boyfriend is dropped when you see him. This is the longest you’ve been apart since you began dating. He sees you bounding towards him, he drops his luggage to the ground and picks you up in his welcoming arms. It’s easy to blame the scorching weather, but you flush hot when he asked if you missed him. He missed you. You’re his favourite girl, why wouldn’t he miss you?

He sets you down so he can introduce you to Keigo. You’ve heard of Keigo, sure, but this was the first time you were meeting him. High school best friends, apparently. You met Touya at a gig in the big city. And you found out later you were attending the same university.

Keigo seems sweet. A warm smile and honey eyes you could easily get lost in.

He expresses his surprise that Touya managed to secure himself a beauty such as yourself. Touya thwacks him jovially with the back of his hand before picking up his luggage again.

He wants to see inside. He wants to see the bedroom.

You take them both inside. Of course you’ll show Touya where you’ll be sleeping for the next two weeks, but did he really think you weren’t going to give them both a tour of the whole place?

The look in his eye was obvious. He’d had a long flight. And did you hear him? He missed you. He really fucking missed you, y’know? Yeah sure. He missed talking to you in person, he missed your scent, he missed your warm embrace. But he missed you. Your body. He doesn’t really care about the house right now. He needs to see your form wrapped around him, the way he’s moulded you to fit him perfectly, and he wants to look at your pretty face while he ruins you. You’ll let him, right? He’s sure you’ve missed him, too.

“Babe, bedroom.” he commands, already walking in the direction of the room you explained would be yours. You don’t follow, however.

“No, Touya, you’re not my only guest. Have some manners.” you respond. You lightly graze Keigo’s shoulder before showing him the rest of the house. Touya feels like a fucking idiot right now. Since when have you ever been able to turn him down? It’s almost like having some time apart from him has granted you the ability to wriggle out from under his thumb, if only a little. But Christ, this shouldn’t be happening.

Why did he bring Keigo again?

He managed to stave off his temptations after your initial rejection. Fortunately, the rest of the evening was very enjoyable. You’d stocked up on plenty of alcohol, although you opted not to drink too much. That was the general consensus in the room. Two or three beers each, nothing crazy.

Neither of the boys could believe it when you appeared from the cupboard with a pile of board games in hand. They aren’t usually Keigo’s thing, but you assure him there’s nothing better than a few drinks and some board games. Well, monopoly definitely would have been more enjoyable if Touya didn’t flip the board in a rage when he hit bankruptcy. Yourself and Keigo were laughing so hard your stomachs hurt. Touya laughed too, maybe it was a little over the top.

“I’m actually crying, that was so funny Touya.” you announce. They both look at you to confirm the tears streaming down your face. You did your best to wipe them away with your fingers, but they wouldn’t stop coming.

“Here,” Keigo speaks. He picks a packet of tissues from the inside of his pocket. Touya kisses his teeth, of course golden boy is prepared. What kind of a grown man carries tissues around with him, anyway?

“Ignore him,” you respond taking a tissue from Keigo’s hand. “thank you Kei, I appreciate it.”

“Oh… He’s Kei now, huh?” Touya teases, jostling his elbow lightly into your side.

The cute nickname makes Keigo blush ever so slightly. It isn’t picked up by you nor Touya. It’s sweet, a few people call him Kei, Touya isn’t one of them. To Touya he’s just Keigo. Occasionally he’s ‘bird bitch’ – an endearing insult upon his high school nickname: Hawks.

Tensions are high as you pull out a deck of cards. The boys want to play poker, how trite. You tell them so, too. They clearly just want to prove what real men they are. You don’t know how to play, and you’re not letting them play without you when you don’t know the rules. So, they sigh when you tell them the options are snap or go fish. It’s nice to see them actually have a smile on each of their faces as you all enjoy a game of go fish together. It’s relaxing but still fun. Snap, however, is another matter. Tensions are high and you’re all anxious. Mistaken snaps are laughed at and then you all almost blow the roof off with your yells when you see two cards that match.

You congratulate Keigo on his win, and then announce that you’re tired.

Touya jumps to his feet. There’s only one thing on his mind, finally – you. He’s practically growling in your ear. “C’mon baby, bed.” he whispers, not quietly enough for it to go amiss by Keigo. Why did Touya invite him here? He didn’t come all of the way to Bali to listen to you guys fuck for two weeks. He huffs, and retires to his own bedroom.

But Touya misunderstood, massively. You had zero intention of fucking him. Didn’t he hear you? You’re tired. As you lay on your side in the darkness of the room, Touya spoons you. He really is desperate. It’s more than that, he’s aching for you.

“Baby… please.” he begs, “I’ll do all the work. Just… let me finger you at least.”

Poor, poor Touya. He really needs it bad, huh? You suspect it’s a carefully thought-out plan in his mind. If he fingers you, you’ll get horny, and you’ll want his cock. That’s how it always goes down. But tonight, you’re determined to stay strong. You don’t want his cock. But you won’t turn away an offer of his perfect fingers playing so nicely with your pussy.

You’ve always been a quiet moaner, it doesn’t bother Touya. It just makes it extra special when he coaxes a louder one out of you. He’s seated a little upright with your back against his chest. One of his hand slips under your wife-beater vest to touch your nipples. He rolls them carefully between his callused fingers. His other hand, his dominant hand, is teasing your folds. An embarrassing moan falls from your lips when you witness him suck two fingers into his mouth, wetting them before they make contact with your clit.

Even at your quietest, it doesn’t go unheard by Keigo. He lies awake with the sounds of your sweet huffs ringing through his ears. Touya is mumbling something, but it’s barely audible.

Touya is furious when he makes you cum and you still don’t want to fuck him. You roll over and fall right the fuck asleep. He supposes his own fist will have to do. Keigo has heard enough. Hearing you moan isn’t the worst thing in the world, but the last thing he wants to do is listen to his best friend cum all over himself. Keigo jumps out of bed and heads towards the kitchen, a nice drink of water before bed will clear his mind, he hopes.

He stands facing the sink with a glass in hand, he’s taking his time. His idea didn’t work, all he could think about was you. Keigo startles as he hears the door to your bedroom open, regaining composure when he hears his friends heavy feet slapping against the tiled flooring. He makes no effort to close the bathroom door quietly after himself, isn’t he concerned about waking you up? Of course he isn’t, he knows you’re a heavy sleeper.

Keigo assumed he’d go right back to bed after he’d cleaned himself up.

He thought wrong.

“Oh, you’ve had the same idea as me, huh?” Touya speaks, trying to remember which cupboard the glasses live in.

“I guess so,” Keigo answers without turning around, “nearest to the fridge, idiot.”

Touya snickers before retrieving a glass. It isn’t lost on him that he only knows that because he actually paid attention to you when you gave your tour; while Touya couldn’t focus at all with thoughts of fucking you senseless running through his head. He approaches Keigo, eager for access to the sink.

“Can I—?” Touya asked, wanting him to move away. It was uncomfortable, for whatever reason Keigo was still refusing to face his friend. Touya filled his glass and shrugged his shoulders. Whatever was going on, his curiosity would have to wait until he’d quenched his thirst. Keigo cringed at the audible sounds of Touya swallowing his water. The liquid spilled from the corners of his mouth and ran down his chin. He voiced an overdramatic ‘ah’ as he drained every drop from his glass. He slammed it down on the counter top, wiping away any traces from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“No.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?” Touya wonders. “Oh… you heard us, huh?”

“N-No, I—”

“She’s quiet. And you still heard. Hm. Did you like it? Get off on my girlfriend cumming around my fingers?” Touya pestered. His usual lilt in his tone making it all the more irritating. He’s such a bastard, Keigo wonders why he’s friends with him sometimes.

“Shut up, I’d never—”

“That’s why you aren’t facing me, you’re ashamed right?” he continues. “Fucking face me!” Touya speaks raising his voice. He shoves Keigo’s shoulder enough to make him look at him. Finally, he sees what the problem is. He sees why Keigo was so reluctant to turn to him. How humiliating. How… interesting. “Aw, your cocks all hard for my girlfriend.”

Keigo is red in the face and hot to the touch. Why’d you have to be so cute, huh? So nice and sweet to him too. He feels like a creep. A gross, weird letch. But how could he not get hard when he thinks you’re so pretty and perfect? He pushes Touya to leave, entirely over the conversation and desperate to return to bed and forget the whole thing.

Wind is knocked out from under him as Touya pushes him, pinning Keigo against the nearest wall. He tries to yell, to argue. But soon Touya is pulling down both Keigo’s boxers and his own sweatpants, freeing their hardened lengths. Before Keigo can argue, Touya’s hand is wrapped firmly around his shaft, pumping away and revealing just how wet he got over the sound of his fingers in his girlfriends cunt.

“T-Touya,” Keigo mutters. “Fuck, f-fuck you. What are you—?”

“Pretend it’s her,” Touya commands, showing no signs of stopping as he jerks off his blonde friend. “your cock is so wet f’me… Just pretend my hand is her sweet little cunt.”

Keigo shudders at the thought. But he can’t bring himself to push away Touya. His eyes are closed. He’s imagining, he’s imagining you. Your lovely, melodic voice as you speak so kindly to him. Your charming laugh. Your breathy moans.

He doesn’t know how to handle himself when Touya smashes his lips against his own. It’s a fierce entanglement as he establishes dominance over his pathetic, weak friend. Touya’s body is pressed close to his, humping him gently as he continues tugging on his cock. He sucks and bites hickeys into his neck as he continues working him. The sensations are exhilarating.

“You’re still a virgin, right?” Touya questions. Keigo nods, shamefully. “You’d love her tasty pussy, it’s tight. You’d think she’s still a virgin, too.”

“O-Ohh – fuck – Touya, please.”

“Please what?” he wonders, hand rubbing over Keigo’s fat cock head. His pre leaking and dribbling in the palm of his hand, “Please, keep telling you about my girls little snatch? Hm?”

Keigo can’t stop himself from humping into Touya’s palm. It’s the most action he’s gotten in his entire life. He’s helpless to the touch. His eyes remain firmly closed as he tries to lose focus on the thought that it’s your hand instead of his. What the fuck is wrong with Touya? He knew he was an asshole, but he didn’t think he was so low as to cheat. He didn’t even know he had a thing for men. Or is this just a sick power trip for him?

“What is it about her? Hm? What makes your cock hard for my girlfriend?” Touya asks, picking up the pace with his hand as his own rutting length against Keigo becomes harder.

“Fuck, u-um,” Keigo groans. It’s broken speech as he tries to gather his spiralling thoughts. His head is thrown back and he licks his lips. Chest heaving as he tries to recall what exactly it was that made him feel like this. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows in tandem with his thoughts. “She’s j-just, just nice, Touya. Really nice.”

“I know baby, she’s my fucking girlfriend after all.” he speaks, twisting his wrist to add more friction to his pulls along Keigo’s shaft. He was grabbing onto anything to steel himself, finding it increasingly difficult to hold back. “Gonna cum? Huh, Kei? Pound her f’me. Fill her little cunt up.”

“J-Jesus, Touya—”

“She’s so close, fill her up. Let her milk this cock.” Touya begins stroking himself for the second time that evening, fully hard and ready to cum right along with his friend. Keigo’s hips are bucking wildly against his hand. “That’s it baby, good boy.” Touya taunts. Keigo knows he’s picking on him, trying to make him feel small and pathetic under his touch and the weight of his words. But fuck, it fucking works.

Keigo’s cum jets out of him. It’s almost outrageous, coating both his own and Touya’s abs. Touya’s hand is completely covered, the tacky sounds of him continuing to masturbate him through his high makes Keigo cringe. He feels disgusting when he feels warmth at his pelvic bone. Touya’s cum dribbles out of him and onto Keigo. The blonde’s chest is heaving, unable to believe his first orgasm with another person was due to his best friend. Touya’s recovery time is almost immediate, though a little out of breath, he makes quick work of cleaning his friends white cream from his abs and his fingers.

“Messy boy, such a big big mess Keigo. Aren’t you embarrassed? You just sprayed yourself.”

Touya pats his shoulder and turns a corner, heading back to lay by your side. It’s the type of pat you give a friend after a pep talk. Keigo supposes that’s kind of what this was. Just a little less talking than expected.

How is he going to look you in the eye tomorrow?

He doesn’t. He avoids you as best he can, in fact, Touya as well. He lounges outside on the sunbeds topping up his tan. He isn’t seen without an alcoholic beverage by his side all day.

This goes on for numerous days. You start to worry if you did something wrong – you didn’t, of course, Touya assures you of that. Apparently the ‘bird bitch’ loves to go in little sulks from time to time.

He’s assures you he’ll come out of it eventually.

You hope he’s right.

And he is.

Keigo randomly comes out of his funk, expressing he’s eager to make cocktails for everyone tonight. He’s known at his own university for making the best drinks, allegedly. Touya gives him credit, too. He makes a mean long island iced tea. And tonight, you do decide to get drunk.

You’re only here a limited time after all, right?

It seems Touya got more than he bargained for with his own cocktail. What was the reason a handsome man such as Keigo had never been able to fuck someone? Because he’s a socially awkward creep who loves drugs. He loves them so much, he brought some along for the trip. Touya, despite appearances, has never touched a drug in his life. He thinks it’s a fools game and wants no part of it.

So, it hits him hard.

Perfect for Keigo, he wants revenge. And he wants you, for real this time.

Touya comes around, tied to a chair with zip ties. Each of his legs is connected to a leg of the chair, and his arms are bound behind his back. He can’t be seeing what he thinks he is, can he? Everything is too blurry. But it comes more focused. Yes, he is seeing exactly what he thought. Keigo balls deep in his girlfriends hole.

“T-Touya-“ you whimper.

“Oh, finally awake huh?” Keigo says, Touya fights against his ties to no avail, “Made her pussy sound so good, wanted a test run for myself.” Keigo tells him.

“Get away from her. I’ll fucking kill you, bastard!” Touya bites. Keigo hisses.

He forces your knees closer to your chest as he fucks harder into you. You’re a little louder than normal. Touya’s panicking now, is it because he’s better than him? That can’t be. He’s a fucking virgin, after all. Your head rolls to the side, and then it becomes clear to him. It’s because you’re crying. Fuck. You’re crying. He wants to rip Keigo’s throat out. But he’s helpless against the ties.

He’s been fucking you for a little while already. It’s obvious he’s been watching too much porn, you instantly deduce that he has little experience or knowledge. He plunged inside of your gummy walls with one thrust, and rutted into you slowly. You weren’t sure if he was trying to get you used to his size or if he was trying not to cum on the spot.

“You better fucking get off her and let me go, she’s mine!”

“She’s mine now, Touya.”

He couldn’t stand to see this. And he couldn’t stand how helpless he felt. All he could do was see your sweet face knot as his friend put all of his weight behind each thrust and his fat cock head pounded against your cervix. It felt good, of course, but it wasn’t Touya.

He hates himself. He hates how he feels, he’s never felt so disgusted with himself. But with a soft laugh, Keigo grabs your jaw in one hand and forces you to face your boyfriend.

“I think he likes seeing you get fucked sweetheart, his cocks hard.”

“I’ll kill you for this.”

The threat falls on deaf ears as Keigo continues his assault on your body. He had no idea pussy could feel so good. And Touya was right, you were fucking tight around him. Just like he said – you could be mistaken for a virgin.

He wasn’t sure of himself or confident in his actions, but he lowered his head and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth. Keigo thought it’s something he should do, rather than it be something he wanted to do. You were staring at Touya, the way his cock was twitching at the sight in his sweats. You weren’t sure if you were allowed to be mad or not. He can’t help it, and he can’t help you. And still, you feel so betrayed.

Keigo forces you to look him in the eyes again. Grabbing your face and turning you to face him, his forehead rests on yours. Panting breaths dust over your features.

“Look at me, not him. I’m the one fucking you. I’m the one making your pussy feel good.”

Touya was doing all he could to fight against his restraints. He knew it was hopeless. He knew he couldn’t help you. All he could do was sit and watch the show.

It amused him how quickly Keigo came, and you had made no indication that you were going to cum along with him. But even with his dick softening, he didn’t care. He didn’t want to be done with you. He didn’t want to let go of the warmth your pussy brought. A feeling of belonging.

Touya could feel his balls tightening. No way. No fucking way is he gonna cum hands free. He is though, he can feel it building up. He’s fucking aching and the way you’re crying and doing your best to take his friends length is getting to him. He’s sweating, he can feel it drip from his hairline and down by his ears.

“Keigo fucking untie me!” Touya orders, a begging tone behind his usually calm and collected speech. You’re both facing him now. You can see the way he’s writhing around and desperate for his release. Keigo smirks. “Please!”

“Tell daddy how good my cock feels sweetheart, how big I am.” Keigo demands.

“’m so full, daddy. So full of his cock, so big f’me.” you tell him.

You’re biting your lips and rutting your hips against his. This time you think you will cum with Keigo. You can’t help it either. You cum softly, breathing sweetly in Keigo’s ear. He forces you to kiss him. This is love, isn’t it? It’s got to be. He isn’t long after you, filling you for a second time with his love. Your body is spent. For such a quick lay you sure feel fucked out.

He pulls out and flips you onto your stomach. Keigo forces you to bend one of your knees and moves it up by your side like a common sleeping position. He just wants to split your pretty pussy lips open so that Touya can see what he did. His watery cum gushes out of your clenching hole, missing the feeling of being full of his erection.

It’s enough to make Touya cum against his will. It all remains securely in his sweats since he was unable to lower them himself. Keigo stands to his feet, freeing his friends cock to see for himself. Damn, it’s almost impressive. Thick creamy white release is webbing in his sweatpants and completely coating his drained cock. Should his ego be so swollen for making Touya cum without touching himself? Was he that good at fucking you?

“Messy boy, such a big big mess Touya,” Keigo jeers, throwing Touya’s words right back at him.

“Fuck you.”

“Aw… Are you embarrassed? You sprayed all over yourself.”

© 2021 fuwushiguro

adding tags in a reblog 🖤 tag list form in navi if you're interested!

[sinswithpleasure]

The Playgirl (ft. LOONA's Yves) [Part 2] [Female Reader]

---------------

Hello! I'm back with part 2!

Futa!Yves x Fem Reader, just in case ya forgot.

If you prefer, this is also on AO3 and AFF!

---------------

Yves shows up on time for tutoring, to your surprise.

"Hey baby."

"Don't 'baby' me."

"Sure. Let's start."

"Alright. Open up the textbook. We're starting from the basics. I've printed out some of the prerequisites for this topic, since what you did last time wasn't up to standard due to lack of practice of the basics. Now…"

Yves listens attentively. In fact, things go a bit too smoothly for the both of you. Yves doesn't make any cheeky quip, pull out any pet names, or flirt with anyone that passes by. The womanizing playgirl you knew disappears, and in its place is a focused, dedicated young woman. Sometimes, you even find yourself staring at her work on the problems in front of her. The change is… welcome, to say the least.

Your eyes roam Yves's styled hair, swiped back to expose her forehead, down to her beautiful large eyes, button nose, and full lips.

God, you're gay. Sure, you're literally admiring the beauty of the most insufferable bane of the universe, but you're just so fucking gay and hot people are hot, no matter how irritating they are, so...

When your eyes shift back up, you're met with Yves's smirk.

"See something you like, babe?"

Fuck.

"N-no."

"Liar."

"Fuck off." You rush to change the subject. "How're you doing?"

"I've been done for a while. You would know if you weren't spending the time looking at me."

You refuse to dignify her with a response, checking through the solved problems. With your coaching, Yves manages to get two more questions correct as compared to last time, but she still makes some simple mistakes.

"Okay, here's the issue. In question two…"

---------------

Yves continues to show up for every tutoring session. Somehow, a week passes by, and it is now Friday.

"Good afternoon, babygirl."

"Don't 'babygirl' me. How many times do I have to say it?"

"Mm, whatever. How're you doing?"

"Why do you care?"

Yves pulls out the chair next to you, leaning back on it, resting her legs on the table. She turns to you, grinning.

"Of course I'd care! You're my tutor, and if you don't feel good, you won't be able to teach me properly. If I don't get taught, I won't learn, then I'll fail, and I don't get to win. You know that I always win."

"I'm not sleeping with you."

"That's what you say, but not what you mean."

"Fuck you."

"That's what you'll be doing in five months' time."

"No I won't. Bring out the Calc textbook. We're going through Chapter 4 today."

"Alright, babygirl."

----------------

The change in Yves becomes apparent when she somehow is present earlier than you on Monday morning.

"Yves?"

"Oh, hey babe."

You sigh at the pet name, but having heard her call you that for quite some time now, it doesn't grind your gears as much anymore.

"Don't 'babe' me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Yves returns her attention to the papers she is working on, and the familiar math problems catch your eye.

"Calc?"

"Yeah. I promised I'll be the best student. Here I am."

"We'll see about that."

"You're looking at it right now." Yves rises from her chair, and in a flash, she has her arm around your waist, her face inches from yours. "I'm going to win, babygirl."

"G-Get off me!" Your face reddens instantly at the close proximity of your lips to hers. Memories of the chaste kiss Yves planted take front and center stage, and you can't help but look away from Yves.

"You're so pretty."

Yves has her gaze locked on your lips, then to your eyes. She is so close, too close, even. Heat flashes all over your body—every touch Yves leaves on you seems to burn.

"I mean it. You're gorgeous."

"T-Thank you."

The smug smirk never leaves Yves's face. She releases you from her smoldering gaze and grip, but she leaves you with a rapidly beating heart and a large distraction for the day to come.

When class begins, Yves tries to take the time to listen to the professor. However, she is soon back to her old ways, flicking paper balls at classmates and being on her phone more than she listens.

"Yves."

"Yeah, baby?" She meets your gaze, her tongue darting out to moisten her dry lips. Her hands carry on working on moulding another tiny paper ball.

"You're not listening."

"I am!"

"What was the last thing the prof said?"

"Um…"

You roll your eyes.

"Best student, my ass."

"I made that promise to you, not to him."

"You won't learn if you don't listen to him either. How're you going to be the best if you can't even do that?"

"Oh, so that's how it is?"

"That's right." You think hard about the words you want to say next, but maybe… maybe it is worth the risk. After all, Yves is still the bane of your existence, but she could be less of that if she keeps up her effort in trying to learn.

"You don't get to fuck me if you're not the best."

You watch as Yves freezes. She stares at you, her jaw hanging, before she steels her gaze to your eyes, staring deep into your soul.

"So this is how you wanna play, babygirl?"

"Yeah." You can feel your bravado slowly disappearing.

"Fine. I'll listen. I'll play by your rules."

Yves leans to your ear, her breath sending shivers down your spine. Her deep whisper makes you shudder.

"You will be mine at the end of the year, baby. I promise you: I'll ace my exams, and you'll love me for it."

Perhaps provoking your seatmate wasn't the best idea. Now you have to deal with the deep flush on your face and neck, as well as the heat between your legs.

---------------

A month passes.

Every week, the same things go by—tutoring, classes, more tutoring, more classes. However, what changes is how close you and Yves get with each other. By no means were the both of you friends, but she isn't as much of a thorn in your side anymore.

[yves💘 sent a message:]

Baby

I need a bit more help with the math from the last chapter.

Can I see you this weekend?

Saturday, 10am, Seoul U entrance?

[You sent a message:]

Sure.

I'll see you.

[yves💘 sent a message:]

Good.

Dress nicely, baby. It's a date.

[You sent a message:]

Fuck off.

You groan when Yves manages to charm you through text. Outfit ideas are already flowing through your head, and you sink your face into the comfort of your palms. Why do you even care about looking pretty for Yves?⁶

Well… that genuine grin she flashed after a muffled gasp of surprise when you wore a dress once in the past month was gorgeous on her. That was why.

You remember Yves actually having the slightest hint of a blush when looking at you, and she seemed to be a little less flirty that day, opting to take short glances at you when she thought you weren't watching. This newfound attention was… welcome. You couldn't deny feeling shy having Yves check you out. After all, you were just the nerd girl in class, and having this attention from a hot girl you could consider a crush not as much of a pain in your ass felt so good.

-----

Saturday arrives, and here you are, waiting outside Seoul University.

You choose to keep things simple: just a simple button-down dress with daisies printed on the fabric. Your hair is tied up in a cute bun. The pink backpack you carry completes the look, with a nice pair of flats.

The sun isn't too bright, and a cool breeze keeps you comfortable while waiting. You can't help but get nervous, though you know it is irrational to feel so. After all, this is just another study session. However, Yves's text to you earlier in the week keeps flashing across your eyes.

'Dress nicely, baby. It's a date.'

You know this is just a study session. However, a part of you dimly wishes that it isn't, before you hurriedly bash those thoughts with a hammer and then set them on fire.

The revving of a motorbike catches your attention before it zooms down the road. You can see the bike move across the lanes, then slowing to a stop in front of you. The rider, clad in all black leather, complete with jacket and boots, seems to freeze in front of you, before slowly drawing the helmet off their head.

"Hey, babygirl."

Yves grins at you, her eyes sweeping over your body. Her gaze lands on your legs, moving up to your torso, your chest, and then to your eyes and hair.

The next words she mutters are meant to be kept to herself, but you hear her anyway.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous."

Your heart takes off, pounding against your chest. You try to hide the flush on your face by staring at the ground, but you field a gaze to Yves, who looks a bit like a deer caught in headlights. She looks so handsome, so cool, and downright fucking hot at the same time.

Hmm… What would it feel like being pinned under her again?

The intrusive thought you have gets stamped out instantly, but the effect lingers—you can't help but check Yves out, feeling a rush of heat deep within your loins.

Her agreement with you was starting to look more and more appealing. Maybe you do have to teach her well.

"Get on."

"What?"

"Let's go. I gotta park the bike, and the cafe isn't close by. Get on."

Yves hands you a spare black helmet, and you hesitantly take it.

"Don't kill me."

"I won't." She grins. "I like you too much to think about doing that."

Your breath catches in your throat. It's not uncharacteristic of her to say things like that so easily, but maybe… just maybe… you want her to mean it.

You get onto the bike as Yves holds it steady. You don't know where to put your hands, but Yves grabs your arms, pulling them to wrap around her waist.

"Hold on tight, babygirl."

"Okay." You can't believe what's happening right now.

"I'm gonna go."

The engine revs.

-----

Yves trails behind you as both of you make your way to the cafe. Yves is quiet along the way, unlike her usual flirting if she caught you staring at her. When you glance back to her, you see her eyes dart away from you, staring at the floor as she swipes her hair back.

Weird.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah. Never been better, baby." Her reply is unconvincing, especially with a forced grin, but you don't want to really push her for a reply.

"Er… Okay. Sure."

Both of you make your way into the cafe, stopping by the counter to grab the menu. When you sit down at a table, Yves sits across you, her eyes locked onto you as you peruse your options.

"You're staring a lot today, Yves."

"Oh, um, er…" She looks away, her voice soft. This is very unlike her.

"Are you really okay?"

"Yeah, baby. I'm feelin' great, ready to learn, and get good." She leans back, resting her hands on the armrests of her chair.

Oh.

She has a crop top on.

Oh my fucking God, she has abs.

You short circuit.

Two columns of defined muscle greet your eyes, as if to mock you. It wasn't like she was someone you didn't find hot. Now, you have to find out that she also has abs?!

Your mouth dries instantly, and you grab your bottle, taking a swig. The cool liquid quenches your physical thirst, but your mental thirst…

"Don't look too much, babygirl. You might get hypnotized."

Yves tilts your chin up with a finger, moving to lean close to your face.

"My eyes are up here."

Holy fucking shit, she's so fucking hot.

You wonder how you didn't notice them when she had that fishnet and crop top combo. Maybe her pants covered them, maybe you were blinded in your dislike for her. Whatever, you've seen them now. No reason to stop… respectfully staring, especially when you can.

"Look at me."

You meet Yves's smoldering gaze.

"Keep your eyes up here, babygirl." Her warm breath against your lips makes you yearn to lean in and close the gap. "I don't want them anywhere else when they're so beautiful."

You whimper involuntarily, and Yves chuckles.

"You're so fucking pretty, you know that?"

The shame that burns when you squeak and break your gaze to hide in the pretense of reading the menu is something you don't want to admit that you feel coursing through your veins, but it's there. When you lower the menu, Yves has her chin in her palm, her head tilted to the left, a satisfied grin on her features.

"I mean it, baby. You look really pretty today."

"T-Thank you."

"You're welcome. Let's order, I'm starving."

"Okay."

"Oh." Yves leans towards you, lowering the menu to stare into your eyes once more. "You'll get to see what you want to see when I ace the exams. Be patient, babe."

You groan.

-----

That night, you toss and turn on the bed incessantly. Every time you close your eyes, you can feel hot breath across your lips, smell the scent emanating off Yves, and sense her burning gaze on you. Yves's handsome features are burnt deep into your head, and just the thought of her sends your heart pounding and temperature rising.

You think of her abs under her clothes, the defined muscle jumping out to your eyes. She already looks so good, so delicious, and yet, things only go up from here.

The rush of heat between your legs doesn't help things.

You turn again, ignoring your basest desires. Bedtime it is.

[starshipsofstarlord]

the age old divine

hela x hecate!reader x agatha harkness / masterlist

summary; the mass of murdered witches draws your attention, shooting down to earth to speculate the scene. two goddesses, and a outcast witch, need i say more? / warnings; death, smut, threesome, biting, blood, threatening, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, squirting

“dead, dead, dead.” the goddess of death herself spoke, as she traipsed through the loitering of witch carcasses. despite her words, her dark eyes showed anything but pity, rather what was bestowed upon her power endorsing pools was amusement. the scene was quite satisfying to her, it was a certainty that she would not be one to complain about the number of bodies.

“say it with a little less stride in your tone, these are my children. they were gifted magic by my hand, and now all that reprise has gone to waste.” you bit verbally at the daughter of odin, looking respectfully down upon the slaughtered. “only one of their own coven could have strung them to her heart so enthrallingly, we have to find the witch.”

“isn’t all this hocus pocus your jurisdiction? there is no we when it comes to reprimanding the order of this nature.” hela responded, brushing her hair back into its tarantula alike webbing. “hurry now, so we can carry on with our reckoning of the realms, earth is rather dirtying my feet with distaste for the humans that loiter pathetically on this planet.”

“oh hush, just because you are your daddy’s number one executioner does not mean that structured by your thoughts, that life is a waste. mortals may not be gifted with long life, nor the representation of elaborate thinking, however there is some beauty to their weak race.” a rustle in the bushes had you snapping your head to the side, focalising on the greenery as a nervous shake prompted the arms.

“there is no beauty to avid weakness.” hela noticed the listener’s location too, though she continued to speak as though it were a regular conversation at one of asgard’s infamous banquets. “nor hiding from those that reign higher in a seam of nature. come out little witch, and show us that digressed face of yours.”

“hela.” thoughtlessly elbowing the executioner, your thoughts drifted to her borderline mistake. the witch could attempt to escape after her whereabouts being called out, though perhaps you should have had more faith in the face of death, for a ragged haired, young woman approached from her hiding spot, seemingly worried for her own safety.

her eyes drifted over the various bodies that she had cast from life, and then they landed on you. instantly she recognised the description that your form visibly upheld, she had heard various tales and stories about you as a child, the mother of the witches.

“agatha harkness.” you knew her name, inside she panicked, it felt as though she were to be punished for her sins. but with one flick of your enchanted wrist, the evidence of her reprisal disappeared, her mother’s corpse turning into nothing more than a wisp drifting through the air. “i suppose it is you that had vanquished your family, may i, the sorceress over all, get an answer to why?”

agatha fumbled her shoulders for a second, as she thought of the best response that she could possibly bestow. she couldn’t say that she had seen the darkhold, nor disobeyed the ways of her coven, that would only make her appear as the villain. “well, are you going to tell me, or am i going to have to take a peak in that chaotic mind of yours?” your tone was harsh, as your demanding eyes bore into her.

from beside you, hela tutted, as she nonchalantly picked at her nails. “aren’t you the one always telling me to have patience?” out of all times, this was when the goddess had to intervene, it seemed as though she herself had no patience to sit there and allow you to carry on. after all, as she had spoken, this was your area, not hers.

“shut it.” the demand provoked the woman that lurched death upon her victims, she was fast to swoon forwards and cast her tough hand upon your jaw. her impending pupils glazed over, washing over with dominance, as her spare hand reached out, shaking her pointer finger at agatha, whom had tried to creep away from the debacle scene.

“not so fast little witch, i want to show you how weak and vulnerable your deity is in my hands. one snap and i could break this pretty neck of hers; and that would be such a shame.” hela hissed, sinking her teeth into your chin, hard enough to cause a puncture mark to render your flesh, with your crimson humanity lightly escaping from the small wound.

the goddess of death threw you upon the ground, as you turned and glared at the witch, who remained frozen at the play that was rolling out before her eyes. hela sunk onto her knees, grasping the crooks of your ankles to pull you closer, straddling you to permit no option of escape.

“i thought that you were smart enough not to talk back to me y/n, but it appears that i, like the ways of my forefathers, was wrong. did all those lessons i introduce you to amount to nothing?” her porcelain hands tore at your white robe, exposing your nudity to the crisp air, that sent ripples of bumps along your immortal skin. “i will bend and break you until you understand. i will rip everything away from you, until you see that your whimsical tricks are nothing in compared to what i am able to do.”

a whine escaped your lips, and agatha’s eyes widened. she shouldn’t be witnessing this, much less standing by as her legendary, tale told idol fumbled beneath a mass of dark seduction, braced to be as barren of clothing as you were the day that you had been birthed as a symbolic presence within the universe.

“get off of me, otherwise i shall inform the hellish mould of the devil’s crown how to defeat you; you and i both know that ragnarok will have you splitting in half like a fallen icicle.” the threat, albeit honest, was half empty, like a cauldron with the incorrect ingredients. hela could only smirk at the predicament that you had adjourned into the compass of.

her suspicious hand slithered down your body like an albino serpent, cradling the mound of your inherited artefact, rubbing her murderous thumb upon your rose, toying cantankerously with the petals, pricking at them like established thorns, drawing a spike in your breath. agatha rubbed her thighs together, trapping her full bottom lip between the jailhouse of her teeth, lightly gnawing upon her own flesh.

“get off of you, or get you off into a climactic example of true ecstasy, that is not accompanied by vengeful curses, nor midnight felines that bring the warning of arising karma?” she asked teasingly, shaking her deviant head as you thrusted your hip against her hand, rubbing the length of your treasure chest upon her thrilling palm.

“don’t be stereotypical hela, otherwise i will make sure you see some entrapment of your own fears; you and i both know that i am well equipped to take a guess at what they are.” hela prowled her top lip up in the stance of a silent snare, quickly disconcerting her attention away from you in your appeasing pose, as she beckoned the bushy haired witness over, grinning contently when the witch silently complied.

“i suppose you’ve never thought that the night would come where you would see your historical figure writhing under the affections of death. touch her, fulfil the one legacy that you bestow upon your enchanted selves, and serve her.” the woman cloaked in a skin of thin armour spoke, glaring frighteningly up at the witch, with a primal infrastructure edging the outside of her feral orbs.

“i, i, what do i do?” agatha wanted to be certain that the thoughts that ceremoniously rushed to her mind. if she were to worship your body with the passion that she had refrained from sharing with any of her coven, then she wanted to be certain that she knew the extents that she was allowed to perform to. a forbade groan sheathed like a revealed dagger from your mouth, as you located your neck in an alternate position so that you could look at your kin.

“eat my cunt harkness, now, before i decide to punish you for your treacherous sins.” within a minute, she scrambled upon the dirt, clawing her way so that she was met with an inspector’s sight. hela untangled herself from her masterful clothing, basking her body in nudity, as she climbed upon her face, sitting on it as you eagerly began to swipe your tongue through her folds, sucking earnestly at her clit.

agatha found that to be her moment, she craned her head down, swiping her fingers through your self accumulated slick, watching with a transparent gaze as your essence coated the pads of her skin. she delved her face closer, inhaling the immoral scent that radiated from your most intimate parts, tracing your lips with her explorative tongue. the witch hummed, as though she had succeeded at a spell, gasping herself as she felt your hand comb down and pull at her messy locks.

hela ground against your face, half suffocating you, just the way that she liked it. you moaned into her pulsating flesh, inserting your primitive tongue inside her, roaming around the dark caves that staved many secrets, feeling how each one perfectly moulded her soul, and made her into the dependant warrior that she was. it was unarguable, she was a difficult person to get along with, but you could feel the impact that her younger years had shaped her; she had been taught to be this version of death.

but ironically, there was much life in her as she made huffs that she often saved for the episodic scenery of the battlefield, huffing her perky chest out as she felt valhalla erupt in her abdomen, urging her to sink onto your tongue, and use you for her own advantage. agatha was admittedly not doing as bad of a job as you had inwardly predicted, she was eager to please, specifically more so, since it were you, hecate that she was intimately tending to.

you moaned up into hela, lurching your bottom half down and further unto agatha’s in inquisitive face, sending ripples of sound up through the raven haired woman’s sly body, stringing more leverage over her, in more ways than one. a shout bellowed from your chest, as you felt tendrils of aura surround the interior of your stomach, poking it to no end, sending you closer to the edge. witches, you’d show this one in particular.

harkness squealed as she felt a heat penetrate her entire being. she was a witch, you were a deity, that was perception enough that there was a range of power between the two of yours abilities. “hecate.” it was the name that her ancestors had taught her, and thus, the woman used it, trying to mush her not so innocent face back into your pussy in attempts to shut her own self up.

it felt as though the bifrost was soaring through her, sending her to another land; hela came onto your face, mumbling incoherent, presumably dominant, words to herself as you used your oral appendage to help clean her up. “by the dead, are you good at that.” it was far from the first time that she had told you that. agatha was on the route to her second orgasm, the bliss that you intuitively blessed her with had rendered her to a first.

she however continued to bring you to the overall whits of your sexual expression, introducing her fingers into your nest, watching euphorically as they entered you, and sunk delightfully through your folds, being swallowed into the spongey abyss. hela dismounted from your face, tracking over to position herself from behind agatha, turning up the ends of her skirt, throwing the supporting material over her ass, grabbing the cheeks as she pressed a bite into one globe.

the goddess sunk her face into the subsequent area that had been indulged in privacy for far too long, stroking up the ways of agatha’s slick cunt, nibbling upon her clit as the maleficent light you bestowed continued working inside of her. shaking your head, a finish line was installed as you raced towards it, surpassing the line as you pushed the simple witch’s face closer to your heat, coating her lips with your personal gold, forcing the pressure within her to explode.

her body shook as a violent flurry, which was surely anything natural, reckoned her body. juices spurted out behind her, coating hela’s torturous tongue as she pulled away, silently comparing her taste to your own. once more, in an instant, hela was robed once more, as she steadied your knees, pulling you up to your trembling feet. “now that is what i would call a divine intervention.” a smirk riddled your lips as you stood, your robe still torn, exposing the curve, and the entirety to your beautiful breasts; agatha felt as though she were in a trance.

you were so perfect, like all the tales had foretold. hela shook her head at your incensed pun, rolling her eyes at your consistent humour. “i liked this one, she was less bold than the others that we have previously visited.” noted the goddess of death, stepping back and dragging you back with her as a beam of light cascaded down through the sky, ripping the pair of you away from your current destination.

once it disappeared, the pair of you were gone; vanished. though evidence of your presence remained, agatha licked her lips, tasting you, as she simultaneously felt the affect that the pair of you had endured upon her between her dampened legs. it was a day that the stray witch would never forget, it was indeed, a memory that would surpass through her mind as she gained control, and thus more power.

[straighttohellbuddy]

is it too much to expect? that i would name the stars for you?

A/N: 1151 words. No Love Interest specified, but he/him pronouns for the L/I. No pronouns specified for the reader. This came to me very suddenly and I’m not quite sure what it is. Part imagine, part meta, part think piece about the nature of rpf x reader imagines. It’s a love letter to the genre, it’s a love letter to the poet Richard Siken, who’s quotes I’ve taken and sprinkled throughout, it’s love letter to you. I don’t remember when I started writing x reader fics, all I remember was that I needed to feel loved, and I put out my work in case someone else needed to feel loved too. (also this was definitely written and posted within a single hour)

----

You find him in a coffee shop.

You find him through your screen.

You find he’s been your best friend this whole time.

You find him through a series of crazy random happenstances.

Over and over again you find him, and you love him. You learn to love him each time, from friendship, from hatred, maybe you’ve loved him all along, maybe in this new world, all you focus on is a moment, is a feeling, is the undeniable truth that is your love for each other. 

Sometimes he breaks your heart. Sometimes he can’t say the words you want to hear until the very last minute. Sometimes you spend so long denying your feelings that the words feel alien on your tongue.

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.

But you’ll find him again, and love him again, and suspend your disbelief, mould your self perception to fit this universe, to fit this character that he loves back, because they’re almost you, or similar enough that it’s not jarring, and you let yourself be taken along for the ride. 

You know that he loves you like he loves everyone who needs to feel it enough to be reading it, to be sharing it; a piece of understanding and comfort that you know is both yours and the world’s, but it’s okay. Loving them doesn’t mean he loves you any less, so you come back, time and again, and can hear him say it every time; I love you. 

You love him, yes, though in each universe you love the idea of him that’s been so lovingly handcrafted by the writers who love him too. This love is a shared experience; this love is something you need or want in the moment you’re searching for it. It’s not wrong to need love. It’s not wrong to want love. 

The enormity of my desire disgusts me. 

Because this world isn’t built from an authority, this world is built from love, from passion, from people just like you, and people are so self critical, so worried that people like them will not do the things they love justice. But you trust the writer. You let yourself fall in love, you let yourself be loved. Maybe you keep your mouth shut about it, maybe they won’t understand the rush of suspending your disbelief, believing, if only for a moment, that the people you look up to might see you as an equal, might see you as a something they could love too. 

Wish fullfilment comes in all forms; don’t be afraid to wish to be in love. I’ll tell you a secret; I wish it too.

I made this place for you. A place for to love me. If this isn’t a kingdom then I don’t know what is.

I’m overwhelmed with love, with desire, with the need to script a world in which the person who gives me comfort will comfort me specifically; will comfort you specifically. Worlds of words sprawl in my mind, over and over I see new ways to hear the words I need to hear; more than anything I want to share those worlds with you. What good is understanding that in another universe, he’ll love me, if I can’t show you that in that universe, and so many more, he’ll love you too. We are pack animals, scrambling and searching for love, for a safe place to store our heart, our feelings, so I will write worlds where you can feel human, and feel loved, and feel powerful in equal measure.

I will write worlds where you are the star, where you are the object of desire, where he loves you, because each universe comes with an understanding, comes with a tweaked version of you, dear reader, so that you may find new things to relate to, new ways to fall in love, with him, with yourself. That rush of first love over and over again; that safety of a secure kind of love that comes from years of hard work, because sometimes you need that warmth without the build up, so I’ll give it to you for free. Here, I hand craft these worlds for you, so I suppose in my own way, I love you too.

Here is the part where everyone was happy all the time and we were all               forgiven -

And you’ll fall in love with more than just him, because these worlds are populated by friends and found family who you will grow to love too, because your life does not depend on romantic love, because you are worthy of more than just romantic love, you are worthy of a circle of people who understand you. Find allies in your idols time and time again, each universe has a new way to connect to them.

The worlds I write may not always be kind, for the world itself is not always kind, but the people who matter will love you, will understand you, and you’ll hold your own against the world because you are strong. 

You deserve love. You deserve a world where you can see as the object of desire by those you find desirable. I’ll write them for you; I’ll write my fantasies, let them become my legacy, and hope you understand the love I’m trying to put into words.

You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what I say or love me back.

But please be kind to him, to the real him, be respectful; he has given comfort and given love, and given inspiration for all these worlds in which I can envision a version of him loving me, of loving you. 

Be kind to him, because I cannot imagine how terrifying, how overwhelming it would be to have a world that loves you, but that doesn’t respect, at least in part, that you are not the version that can love them all in return, in the way they deserve. He can appreciate us, so please, let’s appreciate him for who he is, and love the versions of him, the whole universes writers have been inspired to create just so he can love us in the way we deserve.

In the mean time, here; I know it’s not a lot, but I think it’s what you deserve. It’s the world. It’s his love. I made it just for you.

Who am I? I’m just a writer. I write things down. I walk through your dreams and invent the future.

[ofmythsandmadness]

to be called beautiful | d.h.

❛ do you ever miss, having someone around to love you?❜

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

SUMMARY: vigilantes!au. you push the boundaries of your relationship, and ask for a wish you know won't be given back. (or — it's late, and after another night of patrol, loneliness sets in deep.) WARNINGS: slightly nsfw??? mentions to sex, no descriptions. it's not a sexual story, just a part of an inner monologue. WORD COUNT: 2.6k+ NOTES: reposting this in hopes it shows up this time (pls pls pls i'm gonna cry). i've been writing a whole other series that is a totally different writing style, but i've been trying to work out my emotions in small, focused pieces like this one when i can't focus. i might develop this into a small ficlit series of it's own, bc i think it's kinda fun — but we'll see how this goes.

THE BEAST THAT IS YOUR LONELINESS has been your burden for too long to say.

It's hold on you is a familiar ache, one you've felt for years, like a chronic tight tugging on your heart that refuses to give in no matter what you try. But you still refuse to name it for fear of coming to terms with the implications of it all. That you're really alone in this life and you're terrified of what that means and the fact that you can't have what your childhood stories promised would be yours.

Like the fool you are, you cling to the idea that it's just passing notions. You'll get over it one day. The flitting daydreams of a fairytale romance better fit for a vanilla Hallmark flick suck, but one day they won't hurt so bad. You'll numb and find a way to fill the void. And you try, you really do, pushing it down for the quick release of meaningless acts and walks of shames and cold bedsheets.

Sex is a toxic friend. You choose it's pull when your heart aches most and the loneliness begs for your breath to the point where every gasp of air is a privilege, not the bare minimum. It's not what you crave. There's no romance, no love. It's a trade and one that always leaves you feeling robbed of something you're not sure you ever even had.

You rarely remember their names. You know they probably won't remember yours. And why would they? The shudders, the whimpers, the cold moans that amount to nothing but crumbs of a supposedly passionate act only pass an hour, then they're gone. Or you're gone, if you're lonely enough to risk it. A bit of fun, a breath of pink and white and the feeling of someone pulling you closer, begging for your skin against theirs.

And then, it's all grey again. And you're alone at your apartment, washing your body free of the marks some stranger dared to press into your wilting skin, wondering what it would feel like for a lover to kiss you that same way. Running your fingers over every inch that has been caressed by so many faceless guests, trying to hold yourself in the way your foolish heart pounds for. But it's never enough. Your hands don't cup your flesh, don't mould and kiss and promise the carefully knitted lies any lover had dealt you in the past. And you're as cold as ever when they fall back to your sides. Nothing enflames your skin like you wishes it could — like those you wish would.

It's a discontent you live with. Just as you're sure millions of others do. That's what life is; you push yourself through the day, through your mundane day job and your taxing nighttime hobbies (because you sure as hell can't claim what you do as real work if your only pay is in blood and tears). You cling to the good times that happened too long ago to remember clearly, and make the moments that you're alone with your thoughts as small as possible.

But there's no time to consider all that now.

You scrunch your face up as tight as you can, squeezing your eyes shut to the point where you see stars, exploding like confetti in some absurd black void that hides behind your lids. For a moment you hold the pose, watching the stars erupt, until the position hurts too much and you have to release.

Surroundings blur and then clear as your eyes readjust from their disassociation. You stare blearily at the random coffee shop you and your 'associate' chose for the night. It's just as generic as the last five visited, a thousand shades of brown and red and weary smiles the bored baristas wear just for a cheap check that'll barely cover their asses. It's worn and empty; no one's hear except the two of you and the workers who probably hate you for being here so late.

Normally, you would feel like an asshole staying so late. But you can't bring yourself to move, or even suggest to. It's all too heavy. And even if it's in brooding silence, you don't want to leave your partner. Not yet, you beg the universe, just a few more minutes.

And, speaking of—

"What's got you so blue today?"

You blink. Look over to him, only to see him already watching you.

There's really no point lying. He always unravels you too quickly, too easily — it's the detective in him, unravelling anyone and scooping their truths from shivering flesh. Some sort of childhood trauma response he developed into another super power.

You used to hate it. Now...if you concentrate hard enough, his sharp gaze feels like one of a lover's.

"Don't know what you mean," you tell him, foolish and flustered. "I'm just fine."

"Bullshit. You've sighed a dozen times in the last five minutes."

"Tch. No I haven't."

"Did too!"

His teeth glint, white and clashing against the full pink of his lips. You wish you could denounce all the times you wondered what it would feel like to have them graze against your keening skin — but not even all the gods could cleanse of you of those thoughts. Those desperate, pleading, melancholic memories stain; he can't see them, but you do when you look close enough. And you can't escape it, much as you try.

"Seriously, though. What's up with you?"

Your gaze falls down to your hands, eager to escape his allure, though it's not a great distraction. It only makes you more bitter, really, taking in all the flaws that litter your weaponised limbs. They're calloused from a million fights. Your knuckles are scarred, aching from wounds you reopen every other night. A thousand scars from a thousand scrapes, cuts, slashes and grazes linger on once perfect skin. You don't know how many there are, anymore, only that you wish you could wipe them off. Start over, have a clean slate. Erase all your mistakes and be beautiful again.

"I'm just tired," you lie. It's tense and pitiful; you know you've screwed it up the second the words leave your lips. "S'all."

"Ri-i-ight, and I'm the goddamn queen of England."

The absurdity of his retort makes your lips twitch. It's not enough for a smile, your self-inflicted misery makes sure of that, but it's a seed of something. "Wow. Didn't know I was in the presence of royalty."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut it."

"My apologies, your highness."

"Shut up, you little shit," he grumbles, but it's as soft as you get from him. It's practically a cry of love — or your foolish mind paints it as such. You take his teasing insults as promises of adorations and his arguments are poems of lust and infatuation that tug on your heartstrings in ways you know they shouldn't.

You're partners, for crying out loud. Professional coworkers (if you call the bloody mess you two create work). You don't get to miss him, or crave him, or love him like you do.

"Something happen to you?"

You watch his own hands fold and unfold on the table. The long, delicate fingers stand out on a man like him; someone who paints himself in only sharp angles and cutting lines. But you think they match him well. They promise life. Bleed hope, even in the raised scars that lace his skin like your own. You've watched those fingers grip a blade, launch it into flesh, pull and push and dig and rip and take and committed acts of atrocity most people would run from. You know he probably thinks of his hands the same way you do. But you think they're beautiful.

"Nah. It's...it's nothing. Really."

You can't see his face, but you imagine his narrowed eyes and furrowed brows asking for an answer you're just not willing to give. "C'mon, just tell me. Can't be that bad."

Your body laughs. You hear it from some place far away. It's cold and hoarse; you wonder how long it's been since you've heard a genuine laugh from yourself. You wonder if he notices (and wishes he did, foolishly, frivolously...).

It's probably stupid, but you go for it.

"You ever miss having someone?"

Something creaks; his chair, groaning as he shifts his weight. One of his fingers taps against his empty coffee cup; idle music for a restless soul.

"Like, in what way?"

"I..." Your nails dig into your palms. This was a mistake, but one you have to follow through with. He won't accept silence after something like that. "In the cheesy, domestic sorta way? That whole, havin' someone to come home to, someone who you can talk to, someone who..." the words stick like molasses in the back of your throat. Try as you do, they refuse to give themselves to him, so you have to substitute. "Just, someone who likes you, past your body or, or whatever."

"Oh."

"Sorry." It's your turn to shift in your seat, awkwardly searching for something to occupy yourself with as this uncomfortable energy you've created carries on. But your cup's empty, and you don't have the cash to ask for another overpriced latte. "Forget about it. Let's talk about somethin' else, yeah?"

He doesn't answer that. In fact, he doesn't say anything at all for a moment, long enough to make you wonder if you've just crossed the line of no return. You can't bring yourself to look at him, hell your cowardice is painful enough to make you wonder if you should just make a run for it, say au revoir! to the bond you've built with this knife-obsessed robin hood and crush your heart forever.

It's tempting, and you consider it, but then he fills the silence.

"I miss Eudora sometimes."

Finally, your gaze tilts up. Your eyes meet his lips. He's not smiling anymore.

You guys don't talk about exes together. It's a forbidden topic, same as family or childhoods or the number of people that have cut you open and bled you dry for fun. It's too personal, and in this line of work, personal doesn't fly. But you know Eudora Patch, because this line of work requires a couple run ins with people like her, and because your partner in crime has never learned how to stop his emotions from bleeding into his expression.

"Not because I still love her, but y'know..." his fingers wave aimlessly. "It was nice, when it worked. I liked having someone to sleep with. In a non-sexual manner." His lip curls a little. "Guess the sex part was nice too, though."

You nod. "Yeah, I get that. It's...it was nice, having someone who knew you. Who wanted to make you feel good, not just for themselves but 'cause that sort of things matters."

"Mm."

"Y'ever consider pursuing that sort of thing?"

He shakes his head. His adamancy is a truck smashing into your heart — though you know you should have expected no less, it still hurts. "I can't. It never works, with people like us. Y'know?"

"Yeah. Makes sense." You want to say more. You probably should say more — but you doubt he wants to hear your woes about intimacy, and the pathetic ways you crave affection you probably don't deserve. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Hm?"

His brows knot. "Why're you asking? Someone do somethin'?"

"What? No."

"Cause, like, if someone's hurt you, I'll—"

"I'm fine," you promise, and without thinking, you reach across the table to pat his hand. To reassure him like one would a lover. But just before your fingers meet his, the bitter reminder that he's not yours sets in and you draw back. Your hand falls a couple inches from his own. "And I can take care of myself, if I wasn't. Don't worry."

He chuckles mirthlessly. "Y'sure about that? You're still the dumbass that tripped over her own feet twice walking down an empty sidewalk, and—"

"—oh, you are such an asshole, why can't you just—"

"—so if you need someone to cut a bitch, I'm available."

You soften slightly. Try to smile, even if it's a false promise and probably hangs like a broken door on mismatched hinges. "I appreciate that. But I'm okay. Think I'm just tired, and a little lonely."

"What, I'm not good enough for you anymore?"

Bitterness seeps onto your tongue; it speaks before you can shut your lips around it. "You're fine as a partner against crime. But you're not anything otherwise, are you?" It feels like a taunt. You hadn't meant it to be — though, maybe you had.

If he takes your jeer poorly, though, it doesn't show on his face. He's still smiling and watching you, eyes simmering with a joke you wish you were in on.

"It doesn't matter though. Having someone's too complicated, 'specially for fools like us. Sometimes it's just..." you don't have a good answer. Not one he'd want to hear, anyways. "I just miss it sometimes. It'd be nice to have someone to talk to, or eat breakfast with in the mornings."

He nods slowly. "Yeah. Was nice, having another body around."

"Yeah. Ha. I," you stutter out a chuckle. Tug at your lip, nibbling at the cracked skin that comes with your long nights. "No one prepares you for how lonely adulthood is. Like, I'm half tempted to make friends with the takeout guys, just so I have a friend at all."

"We're friends."

"You know what I mean," you mumble, swallowing the bitter 'are we?' that almost makes its way off your tongue. "It was just nice when I had the time, to have a person around. Someone to like, hold hands with, or-or call me beautiful, sometimes. I-I can't remember the last time called me that, any..."

Fuck.

You hadn't meant for that last confession.

He wasn't supposed to hear that. It's too personal, too personal, too fucking personal for someone you don't even know.

Everything trembles; you're shaking like an avalanche, ready to sweep it all away under some snow drift. Never to be seen again. But you can't do that, there's no taking back the way your voice cracked as it reaches it's last word, and how your hand slips into a fist, ready to charge even though there's no punching your way out of this fumble.

You crack. Stumble out of your seat. Before he can talk you're moving, throwing a couple bills (too many for your poor wallet, you'll pay for that later) down and mumbling something about heading home. Your head's spinning and you just want to sit down again, pretend like this never happened and ask about some meaningless moment in a meaningless day that you wish could be yours and his, not just—

"—text me when you're goin' out again," you say, high and nervous. "I'll be around."

You turn.

"You don't have to leave."

"I got work tomorrow. Early."

"Thought you had the day off?"

Fuck, la deuxième acte. "Taking a shift for someone."

"Oh." He doesn't believe you. He would be a fool to. But he agrees anyways. "Okay."

"See ya, Kraken."

He doesn't answer you back. It's probably better that way.

BONUS

Many hours later, you're in bed, finally dozing off. You've rinsed off the filth of the night and resigned yourself to a barely adequate rest alone, too tired to consider what usually makes your mind race. It's been a long day; let future you contemplate all the ways you've screwed up.

Just as you're about to fall asleep, however, there's a small ping! that immediately wakes you up A notification sound reserved for only one person.

You groan but still roll over. Your heart may be a humiliated, burning mess, but it still beats for him, much as you've tried to stifle it.

kraken // 2:36 am. you available at 11p tomorrow?

kraken // 2:37 am. got word somethin going down at east docks, wanna check it out before it gets bad.

Relief is a sweet blessing. You exhale and smile into the darkness. He's still a professional, even if you seem unable to understand what that means.

you // 2:40 am. for sure. meet me at my place whenever and we can prep.

You leave it at that. Whatever he has to say after that, cannot be too important to waste your precious hours of sleep. So you roll over and shut your eyes and let yourself forget about the empty space that fills your place.

It's a decision you regret the next morning, when you wake up and realise what you missed.

kraken // 3:31 am. you ever get lonely for someone, feel free to let me know.

kraken // 3:32 am. might not make a great boyfriend, but i'll eat breakfast with you. so long as you're cooking.

A/N - I had a whole idea for two tired vigilantes (like what Diego does in season one, but partnered up) who both are really lonely and tired of life and all it's shit, and rely on each other more than they'll ever admit, and...I'll probably never write it, but this was a fun bit of that. two lonely emotionally deprived assholes who can't accept that maybe they can be loved and the person who wants to is right in front of them. :)

[hawksugarbaby]

Todoroki x reader- one hell of a reunion

Smut

Chapter included: hair pulling, loud sex, implications of cuckolding

Todoroki watched amused knowing it didn't matter who fucked you best, he loved you, and you loved him, it had been obvious since first year. He watched you be carried off by Kirishima on his shoulder and you cupped your hands around your mouth "YOUR A CUCKOLD!" you shouted to the heterochromatic and he shook his head. So immature. "I GET TO GO NEXT YOU FUCKING EXTRA'S!" "Kaachan the world doesn't revolve around you!" "QUIET DEKU"

The boys were gathered around a table staring at your silhouette talking to your former teachers who were asking about your studies in university. The hero course was having a reunion, 10 years after they left to go off on their own, some had gone straight to setting up their own agencies, some going on to be sidekicks for more popular heroes but you? You were a special case. You never cared for becoming a hero, mostly just following the path laid out for you by your mother so you decided that before you stepped into the mould created for you, you would go to university and study (f/s) much to your mother's dismay so that you had something to fall back on if you decided hero work wasn't for you.

You had always been attentive in class, never missing a note or a class and used all your free time to study, you were as sweet as a Carmel apple and always had a childlike innocence around you but it seemed like too much to many of the 1-A boys, even midoriya was sceptical of your innocence. Which led all the boys to tonight, each one determined to discover the real you. The girls always seemed oblivious to how sickly your personality was assuming it was just a purity no one else possessed but the boys knew it was saccharine.

"She may seem like lollipops and rainbows but I bet behind closed doors she's latex and whips" kaminari took a swig off his spiked punch and all the boys nodded in agreement, well most of which. Todoroki didn't understand why everyone was so hung up on this, of course, you were the most gorgeous person in existence to him and your personality brought a liveliness to the room no one else could offer, so why did they want to discover if it was untrue? Why couldn't they let you just be sweet and innocent, honey voice and butterscotch smooth skin, you were so perfect. "Yeah, but how are any of us going to find that out?" Kirishima pondered and Mineta stepped into the conversation "didn't (y/n) have a huge crush on todoroki? Like unable to keep her eyes off him crush?"

The boys nodded remembering how often you had made conversation with him compared to the other boys and some scowled at the memory "but we don't know if she still does?" Kirishima added and midoriya cleared his throat grabbing the table's attention "your about to do some analysis shit aren't you" bakugo rolled his eyes and urged him on with his hand. "Sh-she's wearing red earrings and a silver necklace with red rubies in it the same as todoroki's hair, her dress is dark blue and silver like his hero costume and finally..." he pointed to your hand "she clearly has a shoto phone case and her ankle has a tattoo of a melting snowflake..."

The boys sat, stunned at Deku's analysis and todoroki turned a bright pink and drew his attention from you to the other boys at the table "I really don't want to be involved in this" he lied and a collective groan of annoyance was barely heard over the pulsing music "fine... but I have no idea what i'm doing so don't bla-" "just go you fucking lovesick puppy" bakugo pushed him forward and todoroki stumbled into the conversation with their old teachers.

You slowly turned to see him, your face slowly turning red from the unexpected intrusion of your longtime crush. "Ah! young todoroki, nice to see you join us!" all might grinned, his frail frame half the size of todoroki. "It's nice to see you too sir, I hope you're doing well," he said with a kind tone that made you swoon "hey todoroki, how's it going?" you asked hiding your nerves with a cheery tone, "i'm doing quite well, how are your studies going (y/n)?" he asked looking back to the table of boys who were staring intently at your conversation "they're going amazing! I never want to leave it's so fun and i'm learning so much" you gave a toothy grin and the boys at the table rolled their eyes not believing your desire to learn. "That's really good. I actually came over to ask if you wanted to dance?" he asked and pointed to the flashing dancefloor filled with students "wait you dance?" you giggled and he shrugged "not really but this punch is 100 per cent filled with alcohol" he chuckled and you chuckled waving goodbye to your teachers and getting swallowed in the crowd of dancing students.

At first, it was slightly awkward, neither of you sure how to approach each other but eventually you got more comfortable, the alcohol hitting your systems and the thumping music encouraging your bodies to move together "I never really took you as a reunions guy!" you shouted over the music "well there are some things I wanted to see again!" he shouted back, he gained some confidence twirling you so your back was facing him and he pulled you closer to him leaning into your shoulder "like what?" you grinned, grinding your ass against his crotch "mm, my dorm is looking pretty enticing right now?" he offered nibbling on the shell of your ear, he could see the boys watching with wide eyes and flushed faces out his peripherals and his hands travelled up your front resting just below the swell of your chest.

"Won't other people be living there?" you said reaching behind you to palm his hardening cock through his trousers making his face burn hotter than his flames "no, they scrapped the dorms once the league was disbanded, now they're all big empty buildings. But some of us asked to keep our rooms intact in case we need to do undercover work and can't stay in our homes" he explained and you nodded, swallowing thickly. His hot breath tickled your cheek and you span round wrapping one arm around his neck, the other continuing to palm his cock. "I see, and you just so happen to be one of those heroes?" you asked biting your lip, your eyes fell to his and he tilted your chin up looking at you with a soft smile but a deviousness glimmered in his lust glazed eyes "if you bite your lip one more time I'll bite it for you" he growled. His threatening words went straight to your throbbing cunt, his low voice making your stomach do flips.

"Let's check out that dorm room then huh?" you asked grabbing his collar and dragging him past the boy's table with an innocent wave. "I'll bring him back soon! I wanted to show todoroki something but I left it in my car" you fake pout and they slowly nod "and you need todoroki to go with you?" kaminari raised an eyebrow and tapped his foot "aw would you like to come too kaminari?" you teased glancing down for a split second before his mouth could open todoroki slammed the door open pushing you forward by the small of your back and a low growl urged you forward. "Sorry, maybe you'll take me up on that later" you shout "no she won't" todoroki argued and you left the building with a chuckle.

It was a good 5-minute walk to the UA dorms, the cold evening air flew through you and the lamplight glowed signalling moths to meet their burning demise. You opened the heavy door and you switched the unused lights on. The floorboards groaned and cobwebs lived in the corners stringing across the windows, the room smelled old and musky but the familiar memories of Christmas on the couch lived on as visions. He quickly led you to his room and opened the much more pristine door, his room was cleaner than the rest of the house and his bedsheets were folded neatly at the end of the bed. "Come here often?" you joked and he shrugged not fully understanding.

You didn't bother locking the door, no one else would be around anyway and you tugged the hem of his shirt "impatient are you?" he chuckled and pulled his shirt over his head throwing it in the corner. "Why would you ever think such a thing?" you gasped and stepped out of your dress kicking it near his shirt and you lay sprawled on his bed on your stomach "the fact you're already on the bed for me is a sure sign" he chuckled lowly and kneeled between your leg's rubbing you through your soaked panties "your dripping wet for me (y/n)," he said bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking your juices off his fingers. He made quick work of your underwear and rubbed your clit slowly making you groan, your hips bucked and he snickered "you're so desperate, you look so pretty all laid out for me like this" he complimented and you bit your lip squeezing your eyes shut burying your face in his pillow.

He spread your legs further and pushed 2 fingers into your sopping cunt. They slipped in easily but it was a tight fit, your sighs were swallowed by the pillow and he drank in the sight in front of him appreciating the art that was your body. He moved his calloused fingers quickly dragging his fingers along your walls and flicked his thumb over your clit. He left wet kisses along your spine and nibbled on the lobe of your ear, your whines raised in pitch as he moved his fingers faster inside your hole, your slick dripping down his hands and he groaned at the sight. He fisted his throbbing hard cock with his other hand each moan and whimper going straight to his dick "do you think you can handle a third baby girl?" he asked. You mewled savouring the sounds of your new nickname "no but do it anyway" you urged.

Your conflicting words made him hesitate but he slid a third finger into your soaked pussy. It was incredibly tight, his fingers stretched you out more than you thought and you cried your hands fisted the pillows and he moved his fingers agonizingly slow but his thumb circled your clit at incredible speed. "Holy shit todo i'm cumming" you screeched fucking yourself on his fingers as he pumped them slowly. you convulsed under him and came all over his fingers, a sight etched into his memory eternally. "Look at that" he chuckled sticking his fingers out in front of you to clean them off, you swirled your tongue around his digits tasting yourself as he lined his cock up with your entrance.

The tip of his erection blushed pink and gleamed with the beads of precum pearling at the tip "are you on the pill?" he asked and you nodded. He guided his throbbing cock into your pussy and he groaned feeling the warmth swallow his rational thought "holy fuck" he groaned staying still for a minute "are you okay todo?" you asked, turning your head to see him better "y-your just really warm 'nd you're so fucking tight" his words left goosebumps on your skin and you gripped the bedsheets "god, fuck please move todoroki I need you so much" you begged, tears welling in your eyes and black drips of mascara smeared on the pillow.

He calmed his shallow breathing and began thrusting at a relatively slow pace. His hands gripped your hair and pulled slightly "ah! Todoroki! F-fuck please go faster" you cried moaning loudly. All your highschool fantasies paled in comparison to what was happening. He sped up his thrusts keeping his grip on your hair and you moved your hips back fucking yourself on his cock while he thrust quickly. He pulled your hair and a carnal moan was ripped from you, he had to stop and use all his will not to cum right then and there. That sound. That moan. He caused that just by...

he yanked your hair and you cried out again, the sensation was thrilling, your chest being pulled up and hair being pulled, it hurt, your ribs and stomach burned but it felt so good having him pull you back with just his hand, strings of moans escaped your lips and he licked his lips "you like that?" he asked and your heaved breaths were interrupted with soft whines "yes fuck yes please fuck me harder todo" you pleaded and his eyes shot open. His grip on your hair tightened and he slammed his cock back into you, he tugged your hair straining your neck as he pounded ruthlessly into your soaking cunt. He wore a shit-eating smirk excited about this new discovery, he leaned forward pulling you back like your hair was a leash and whispered and your ear "I can't wait to tell the rest of the boys about how good I fucked you, they'll never even get to experience it" his words made you tremble the pleasure he inflicted in your body bubbling in your stomach, your juices dribbled down his cock.

"Oh I don't know, kaminari might take me up on the offer" you teased, sewing seeds of jealousy under his skin, he growled his grip on your hair tightening with a vicious glare. His dual coloured eyes nearly swallowed by his pupils and he angled his cock so he was hitting your g-spot. The sounds coming from you were lewder than anything he had imagined, your moans filled the dorms the squelching sounds and the skin slapping on skin echoed in a perfect rhythm. "You think kaminari could fuck you like this babygirl?" he snarled (yes) moving his other hand to your clit flicking his thumb over it quickly and you gasped followed by a mewl "NO! God fuck no todoroki no one can fuck me like you do!" you bit your lip holding back your moans "what did I say about you biting your lip" he growled and turned your neck forcefully capturing your lips in his.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip and you moaned into his mouth. The sensation of him pulling your hair, biting your lip, and slamming his hips against yours, fucking you so carelessly became too much and you erupted. A sinful moan fell from your lips and a pathetic whimper of his name hung on the tip of your tongue, your mouth hung open and your eyes rolled back the rest of your body fell forward, suspended by his hand grasping your hair as you came on his cock. His fingers collected some of your cum and he sucked the nectar from his fingers. You uttered a string of curses as he continued fucking himself into your overstimulated cunt.

He buried his length inside of you and released with a guttural moan shooting thick ropes of cum inside you. He stilled catching his breath before pulling out and tucking his flaccid cock back into his boxers. He looked at you fucked out on the bed and chuckled lowly "was that good (y/n)?" he said wrapping his hand in your hair and pulling you back once again. You purred and attempted a nod "i'm babygirl now sorry I don't know who (y/n) is" your scratchy voice cracked, throat raw from screaming and he smirked "mhm you fucked me so good" you continued and pointed to your dress. "Wait you want to go back to the party?" he asked looking at the raving lights of hall Gamma through his window "mhm" you confirmed and attempted to stand only to collapse back onto the floor "I don't know how much more "dancing" I'll be doing though" you chuckled.

He handed you your dress and panties then a thought crossed his mind and he snatched his panties back off of you. Stuffing them in his pocket. "Todoroki... I need those back" you emphasised the need showing off your red pussy dripping with your combined cum "no I don't think you do" he gave you a lopsided grin and zipped your dress back up for you "you have to go through the rest of the party like this" he said and you panicked "consider it a punishment for flirting with kaminari" he growled and picked you up hoisting you onto his back, not caring about how much mess got on his shirt, he could just cover the mess with his jacket when he got back.

He set you down when you reached the doors and put his arms through his suit jacket to hide the wet patch on his shirt. He helped you into the building no one paying attention to your entrance except the table of boys who had been waiting impatiently for an hour and a half. All fantasising about what you were doing with todoroki, each wishing it was them, all hiding their lap with their jackets. They looked you up and down sucking in a breath at the sight of your exasperated form, completely fucked out and hanging onto todoroki like he was life support, all eyes especially attracted to the white fluid trickling down your leg.

Todoroki set you on the booth seat with the rest of the table and you prayed they don't put the UV lights on you curled up and pulled your fur jacket over your legs so no one would see the mess under your dress. "None of you. Will ever be able to fuck me like that" you pointed to the boys who collectively smirked "that sounds like a challenge sweet cheeks" bakugo's hands popped singing his suit jacket. You sat up slowly and squinted your eyes sizing them up. "Bring it" you muttered and it was a race to get to you first.

[prose-for-hire]

The vampire that came to tea

Pairing: Spike x fem!reader

Request: Could I request a Spike x fem reader where you’ve secretly been dating for a while but then your parents find out so you arrange to introduce Spike to your family and he acts like a gentleman and is really shy because he is trying to make a good impression? Thank you :)

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Tiny blood mention, no injury.

You were Spike’s girlfriend. But nobody knew. You had kept it secret, on your request. You loved him to death and beyond but you wanted something lowkey. Personal and romantic.

Once you explained that was the reason why and not because you were ashamed of him, he agreed to keep your relationship a secret. For the time being.

It wasn’t what people expected when they saw you, and it definitely wasn’t what they expected when they saw him. He was the bad boy type and you were sort of shy and soft with others.

Opposites on the outside. But, you know what they say about opposites.

You didn’t know why, but your relationship just worked. You never even questioned your love for each other. It just felt so right. So honest. You fit together so perfectly.

You had met by perfect chance. Some may have called it fate or even destiny. Spike would have just called that bollocks, but you liked to believe that the universe wanted you to be together. It was cosmic.

You had been a receptionist at an underground military base right here in Sunnydale. You had taken the job because it paid surprisingly well for a front desk job, not realising why until much later on.

You were part of a military unit, The Initiative they called it. They tested and tortured various demons and monsters that they found on the Hellmouth you lived on. Of course, at the time you didn’t know you were living on a Hellmouth.

You had been employed for a few months until you were asked to bring some files down to one of the testing areas. What you had seen had shocked you. And then angered you. Testing on animals upset you, and some of these demons looked really human too. So you didn’t know what to do.

Until one evening, you managed to swipe a key card and free as many demons as you could. Most were understanding and made for the exit whereas one tried to attack you.

Luckily, the last person you had let out – he looked human – managed to throw the demon away and use you as a human shield to get you out of the building and away from the military force that was coming towards you.

Spike had then taken you as a hostage, allowing him to get out of the Initiative. He had actually let you go, a sort of thank you for helping him out (you realised a lot later that he could have actually tried to do worse. But he felt it like you had, that spark. You had been so sure of it).

He stalked away but you had followed him, trying to keep up with him and babbling away about how you had just lost your job and probably your house. He raised an eyebrow at you, at how friendly you were despite him having changed and held his fangs so close to your neck as if he would bite. Eventually he tried to shake you off, he needed to find somewhere to hide. You just nodded at each other and ran your separate ways.

Luckily, on account of being held hostage and all, you weren’t fired from your job. It actually came in very useful after you made friends with Buffy and the others and could help get them into the building undetected.

You and Spike had grown fond of each other, eventually he professed his love for you in his usual way. If he could have taken his own heart from his chest and presented it to you he would have. You had near-wept telling him that you loved him too, that being his girlfriend would be a dream come true.

You adored each other and cherished every second you spent together. Which was a lot. He brought you flowers, sometimes they were even alive. He never left a day without telling you how much he loved you. And he always treated you as if you were the only person fit to be living in this world.

You disagreed on things, sure. And you could argue like anything sometimes. But no matter what, you never went to sleep angry. You just adored each other too much. Wanted the best for each other.

He would go to the ends of the earth to protect you and knew you would do the same in return. Life was bliss.

So, one evening you broached the idea of sharing your love with those closest to you. With the world.

He jumped at the chance. He wanted to show you off. Wanted to rub it in Xander’s face seeing as he knew the boy had been crushing on you since he met you (unknown to you). Then you explained, slightly apprehensively that your father had seen him dropping you off at your parents house and they had asked about him. You had decided it might be time you introduced them.

He hesitated more at this request. Not because he didn’t want to take this step, he would want you to meet his mother if you could (before she was turned, obviously). He paused for a moment and then nodded, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you against him. He pressed so many kisses against your skin that evening, there wasn’t a single stretch of skin that hadn’t been caressed by his lips.

He was nervous but determined. That quiet courage he always held against his chest. The sweet nature you knew was hidden under his bad boy image was sure to shine through. You were sure of it.

He had even dressed up – he was wearing the leather jacket with the least amount of blood and rips on it. He had even brought your mother some flowers (He had ‘borrowed’ them from some unsuspecting guy down the street – but if the man will just stand there with such a loose grip on them). You had frowned, but, I guess the thought was there. Plus, your Mum would probably like the flowers. They looked pretty.

“Just, be yourself – they’ll love you” You insisted in a hushed tone, pressing a kiss against his cheek.

You knocked on the door as Spike read the card that said ‘in sympathy’ on it. He pulled it from the bouquet and pocketed it quickly before thrusting it at your mother before she had finished the last syllable of her greeting.

“Come in, come in!”

He made sure that you entered the home before him and your father saw the gesture and nodded at him. Shaking his hand in greeting. Your mother put the flowers away and you all stood in the hall, taking your jackets off.

There was some small talk and Spike was uncharacteristically quiet despite your parents’ friendly nature. If he didn’t have you by his side he probably would have turned and ran. He was nervous, he didn’t know what to do with his hands. 

He had expected more suspicion and interrogation but they appeared to be happy to invite him into their home. He was still expecting them to snap, turn around and throw him out at any moment though.

You were eventually ushered to the dining room where your parents began to broach something with Spike.

“We, uh, asked y/n if you had any dietary requirements”

“Oh uh, no-” He started, he really didn’t want to be a bother.

“So, would you like your blood reheated or just cold?”

“Love!” He said incredulously looking at you. You had told them.

“It’s okay, they’re not stupid. Dad’s work colleague has a half-cousin who’s a vampire” You shrugged and Spike nodded, interested at this acceptance. He smiled at you, nodding and you smiled back.

“It’s normal here, we wouldn’t dream of judging you, son” Spike had gasped at the term. Eyes wide as he tried to play it off as cool.

There had been many figure in his life, and unlife, that he had wanted approval from and never received it. And here, where it had meant something a little extra, he had it without having to mould himself to be what the other wanted.

You smiled softly at his reaction, taking his hand in yours. He squeezed your hand tight, taking his strength from you. He really was completely in love you.

Spike had always been one for chivalry. He held doors and treated you with the ingrained ideas from his past. You adored it though, it was special. The meaning behind it and the fact that no matter how bad he acted you would always receive this care. This thoughtful gesture, even with the entire world watching.

But today, it was only your parents. They smiled as Spike just automatically pulled your chair out from the dining table before he went to sit in his own. He did it without even registering it most of the time.

After you sat down, Spike seemed to grow more confident. To be himself more than he had been before. He was beginning to feel more comfortable, despite still trying to stay in your parent’s good graces. He was becoming more animated as he spoke and he could tell that your parents were warming to him which made him practically glow.

You had warned him to keep topics such as torture, slayers and killing people to a minimum. And he obliged. He wanted them to like him after all. There were a few close-calls where he had to rein in what he was about to say. Change the endings to some of his anecdotes. But it was all going so well.

The thing about Spike was that it could be effortless. When he wanted people to like him and wanted to make that effort, he would. It was just in situations and people that he didn’t care for he could snap and be rude.

Luckily, chivalry and the idea of parental approval were still values he held to his heart despite denying it to anyone that wasn’t you. So, he was really making sure that he made the right impression.

His accent even switched in and out, he was pronouncing his words more his accent appearing to become standard register at times. More William. He couldn’t stop it, it happened of its own accord.

He listened intently, laughed in all the right places at what your parents said and adapted to their sense of humour easily. He slipped his hand under the table, reaching for you as the conversation continued. He just wanted to know you were there by his side.

“Blood’s the good stuff” Spike spoke approvingly, “Compliments to the chef” He was pacing himself, holding himself back from chugging the liquid licking the cup clean. He hadn’t tasted blood as good as this in a while.

Both of your parents smiled, they had made dinner together and sourced the blood too. They were very pleased with themselves.

“Yes, it’s human” Your mother nodded, without explanation.

“Mum!” You said, your eyes raised.

“What? He’s our guest. We couldn’t just give him some off-cuts” She insisted, “It would have been rude” She confirmed, nodding to herself.

Later on, after the meal had ended, you showed him the bedroom you had grown up in. He smiled, trying to imagine you living here. Looking through old pictures and trinkets.

He had the sudden pang of loss that he would never get to do this for you. Show you his childhood or the way he grew up. To introduce you to his mother. To the places he had hidden away when he grew up.

You soothed him, sensing a change in his mood. He looked sad but you didn’t press him for information, you knew he would probably confess it tonight. A shared bed, the safety to confess fears and honesty in a way that you only had with each other.

You leant against each other, a show of comfort, before returning back downstairs. This was so the guest of honour could take another victory lap. Your parents really did adore him. They saw how in love you both were. How much you completely unashamedly cared for the other. It was no act, anybody could see.

As the evening came to an end, you said your goodbyes. Your parents were already inviting you over for another meal in the near-future.

Despite how well it had gone, you were both able to relax more no that it was just the two of you. You sat in the car for a moment just gazing at the other softly under the dim light. It was relieving that you were in each other’s company. Both of you were pleased with how it had went but you adored time with each other. Where you could truly relax and be comfortable.

Spike had immediately launched into an enthusiastic review of the evening that made you smile softly towards him. He adored that smile of yours but he was too caught up in his excitement to remind you how much he loved it.

“You hear the way your Mum gushed about me on the phone to your relative? Right in the middle of dinner she just told them what for - that I’m probably the best in law they’ll ever meet”

“I’m glad you’re over your nerves at least” You giggled softly as his bravado returned.

He continued to gush the entire drive back home, where Spike was of course staying over. You couldn’t help smiling, he had slid his hand to rest on your thigh as he spoke. His eye was on the road but he was squeezing ever so lightly every time he got excited about retelling something that had just happened.

You glanced to the side as he spoke animatedly. Your sigh of contentment almost inaudible. You loved this man. You would never stop.

[tenwoology]

[7:20] johnny seo + thinking 2 much by jeremy zucker

the aroma of coffee tickles johnny’s nostrils as he swill down the remaining portion of his favorite drink, followed by mopping his forehead as sweat droplets trickled down on it. he glanced at the clock, and then back to the cardboard boxes sprawled out in your living room, each box containing your possessions. 

how lovely it is that you’re finally going to live with him; something that has only been in his dreams. johnny reckons that mornings would be a lot better if he could wake up next to you and just thinking about it makes his heart beat ten folds. you made a promise together that both of you will take a new leap in your lives on your 2nd anniversary; the first thing coming to his mind is to move-in together.

doesn’t sound bad, right?

that is why curiosity creeps at the back of his mind. you’ve been awfully quiet since the two of you woke up and started packing your things, it made him quiver by the way you’re acting so distant early in the morning. he tried to brush it off, really, but the building anxiety can only take so much ignoring. 

johnny stares at you, taking you all in as he finds a way of opening a conversation with you. the evident bags under your eyes didn’t escape his sight; he thought, whatever was on your mind last night surely troubled you. 

“is something the matter, baby?” you flinched, and johnny took notice of that. it’s clear that your mind is anywhere else but here. if only you could tell him what is on your mind, he’s ready for whatever you have to say anyway. 

“huh? oh...nothing, john.” the bitter taste of a lie coming out of your mouth was unbearable. you know that you can never lie to johnny, as he knows you like the back of his hand. it somehow amazed you how he can do that when you’ve only been with him for two years. not even your closest friends for years knew you as johnny does; it just shows how much he pays attention to you.

johnny sits in front of you. he looked at you with a calm, steady gaze, before softly saying, “you know that you can always tell me anything, right?” 

the smell of his familiar detergent matched with his cologne awakened something dormant in your brain, anxiety is starting to lose its chains and is slowly invading your self-assurance. you began tearing up and oh boy did he panicked with that, so he brought your hands to his lips and started placing open-mouthed kisses on it.

“are we really making a good decision?” you finally broke your silence. johnny didn’t take off his eyes on you despite the fear looming before him, instead, he waited for you to continue. 

“babe, i’m scared that everything might crumble into pieces once we live together. what if… what if you get tired of me? also, i am a terrible cook, john—oh god, i can’t even make you good breakfast, how the hell i am supposed to—” 

all of your ramblings halted once johnny placed his lips on yours. 

he stroked your cheeks, wiping the tears that have escaped in your eyes. whether it’d be a soft one, passionate, or even a needful one—the thing with his kisses is that it never fails to ignite something within you. nothing mattered to johnny anymore except that he is wishing that his kisses would wash away all of your worries, right here and right now. so he kissed you deeply, deeper than all of the galaxies in the universe combined. his hands pulling you up close until you’re sitting on his lap, your legs wrapped around his torso. 

johnny and his lips were all your hazy brain could ever think about. your lips moulded together and the world melted away. it was warm and comforting, in ways words would never be.

“baby, we could take things slow,” johnny whispered, your foreheads pressed together. “i’m here, you’re not alone, okay? we have each other, babe.”

you nodded, eyes shut. in reality, no magical words or prayers could miraculously take off your worries right now. however, you shall know that this will pass just like any other storm. you have your boyfriend, johnny, who’s willing to give you all the time in the world for you to think. whatever decision you have, he will accept and respect it. 

“and babe?”

you hummed. giving him a look in the eyes.

“please, believe me when i say that i will never get tired of you. just how could i get tired of someone that brings me happiness every single day?”

[jenonctcity]

My Beginning - Part 1

Differences – Lee Jeno

Part of the Bad Boy Series.

Badboy!Au, Streetfighter!Au

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, talk of drugs, aggression, mention of mental health, mention of blood/violence. 

Word Count: 5.9k

(I recommend reading Haechan’s part first to understand this part more clearly.)

Jeno had a rough start to life. He was raised in a poor family with an abusive father and depressed mother. To let off some steam and make some money to support himself, he took up underground street fights at the age of 15. And he was really fucking good at it. Finally his father pushed him too far one night and at the age of 18 Jeno did what he’d wanted to do since before he could even remember, and he beat up his dad until his face was almost unrecognisable. He was sentenced to a year in prison for his crime, but he thought it was worth it and doesn’t regret it. Now fresh out of prison, he’s back in the underground fighting scene and adjusting to life on the outside without having to worry about his father for the first time in his life. He meets someone who mixes up his life once more, and she wants to change him for the better. Does he change for the women he sees in his future or is he too far gone?

 “You need some pussy.” Chenle’s words caused Jeno to choke on the beer he was in the middle of swallowing. He winced and gulped the beer down after he’d finished coughing into his hand, giving Chenle a wide-eyed look and holding his hand up in question.

“Chenle…what the fuck?” He gulped down the rest of his beer and set the bottle down on the bar. Chenle sniggered, looking oddly proud of himself for what he’d said to his older friend.

“Well you’ve been a right grumpy bastard the past few months, and it’s starting to ruin my vibe.” Chenle sounded as if he was dead serious as he flagged the bartender down to order more beers.

“Sorry that I fell in love with someone who didn’t love me back Chenle, I didn’t mean to ruin your ‘vibe’.” He deadpanned but mocked Chenle’s voice as he said the word ‘vibe’.

“You’re forgiven.” Chenle’s neck was starting to look very inviting to Jeno. Inviting to wrap his hands around and strangle the cheeky fucker. “So anyway, I did you a favour!” This made Jeno’s eyebrows raise, as he knew Chenle doing someone a favour, usually worked out to be a devastation only for Chenle’s amusement. Jeno put his head in his hands and groaned.

“I swear to god if you have hired a fucking prostitute or some shit Chenle I wi-”

“No!” Chenle furrowed his eyebrows and let out a laugh. “You really think I’d spend that much money on getting a prostitute for you? Pfft, you’re my buddy but you’re not that special Jen.” The one thing Jeno loved but hated at the same time about Chenle was that he had absolutely no filter whatsoever.

“Thanks.” Jeno rolled his eyes and sighed. “So what is this favour?”

“I’ve set you up a blind date.” Chenle grinned at Jeno, clearly proud of what he’d done. Jeno felt his stomach drop, he sighed and shook his head as he looked at Chenle.

“I’m not ready.” He mumbled, looking down at his hands.

“It’s been what? Seven months?” Chenle furrowed his eyebrows, confused at Jeno’s reaction.

“Four months…you have no sense of time at all.” Jeno frowned in shock at his friend’s awareness of time. “Do you not realise that I still have feelings for her? She pretty much lives at the apartment and her and Haechan are all over each other.” He didn’t want to sound soft, so he neglected to tell Chenle that it felt like a knife was being stabbed through his heart every time he saw them hold hands, or their lips briefly touch. He wasn’t stupid, he knew they kept their pda to a minimum around him, and he knows they look at him with pity in their eyes, which isn’t what Jeno wants.

“Get over it my guy.” Chenle shrugs and slaps Jeno on the shoulder. He’s clearly never had his heartbroken, but Jeno can’t really blame him for his ignorance to heart break, he’s still young. “Look, she’s a really nice girl, and she’s beautiful. She’s my friend’s sister and he thinks she needs some company.”

“And she hasn’t got feelings for anyone else?” Jeno couldn’t hide the sarcasm in his voice as he stared Chenle in the eye.

“Not that I’m aware of. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was secretly in love with me though, I am one hell of a catch.” He winked at Jeno and took a large mouthful of beer, taking took much in and dribbling some of the liquid down his chin.

“Yes…quite the bachelor.”

“I’ll text you the details once I’ve sorted things out with her.”

“I don’t know whether to thank you or not, so I’m going to wait and see how this turns out.” Jeno rolled his eyes and sipped on his own beer.

“So you’ll actually go on the date?!”

“Yes, if it shuts you up about my personal life.”

“Deal!”

 ---

Jeno felt like he was suffocating as he tugged at the collar of his white button up shirt. It wasn’t often he wore a shirt considered ‘formal’, as he didn’t really go anywhere fancy enough to deem wearing a shirt that fell into the category. But since it was a first date and Chenle told him not to dress like a ‘homeless rat’, he decided to buy a decent shirt to wear with his black skinny jeans. The cool night air was at least doing somewhat of a decent job in calming him down, but the longer he stood beside Chenle as he waited for you to arrive, the more anxious he got. He wasn’t nervous to meet you, he was simply feeling anxious because he did not want to be going on a date, but he knew Chenle wouldn’t shut up about it until he agreed.

“Why doesn’t Jaemin ever have to deal with this shit?” He mumbled to himself, his fingers itching to grab at the packet of cigarettes in his leather jacket. He only smoked when he was feeling stressed, and he knew he’d get stressed, so he came prepared. Even though he mumbled the words, Chenle apparently had super sonic hearing.

“Because Jaemin has severe depression and I’m not willing to fuck with that.” Chenle shrugged. “She’s here!” He smiled widely as you got out of the taxi. You nearly climbed back in though because of how nervous you felt about going on a date. This was your first ever date, and you didn’t know how to feel about Chenle being the person to set it up for you. You also didn’t know what to wear, so you hoped that your little black dress with matching heels would be an okay option. You had straightened your hair and had made a decent effort with your makeup, hoping it would help mask how worried you were feeling. You turned around, looking to see the blond annoyance you knew too well, smiling when you caught sight of him. You felt your stomach fall straight through to the core of the earth when you laid eyes on the tall man next to him. He looked like he could snap you in half if he wanted to, not to mention, he was also the best-looking man you’d seen in a long, long, long time. Your palms started to sweat but you didn’t let your smile falter as you hurried over to them both.

“(Y/N)! Hi, this is Jeno, Jeno this is (Y/N). I’m going to shoot now; the reservations are made under your name Jeno. Bye!” Before either of you could utter a word to him, he had basically sprinted off down the road.

“I hate him so much.” You heard Jeno mutter, causing a soft, nervous laugh to fall from your lips. He turned towards you and gave you a lopsided smile. “Shall we?” He motioned towards the restaurant that you were stood in front of. You nodded and followed him inside, thanking him as he held the door open for you. The host hastily showed you to your seats and you slid into the booth, still holding the soft smile on your face. Jeno shrugged off his jacket and you couldn’t help but look at his arms as the shirt he was wearing moulded to the fabric snuggly. You didn’t really know what to say to him and let out a quick sigh as your eyes scanned the restaurant. It was starting to get painfully awkward, which was a bad sign for you, because you knew how you handled awkward situations. Jeno kept letting his eyes fall on your as he glanced at his menu, his bottom lip tucked between teeth as he mulled over the silence between you. You looked at the menu for a minute before deciding to try and start a conversation with him.

“So, how do you know Chenle?” You asked, letting your eyes meet his. For someone with very strong facial features, his eyes were very soft, the deep brown pools almost sucking you in. like a riptide in the ocean.

“Satan’s child?” This caused you to laugh abruptly, not having expected him to say such a thing. “I don’t actually remember, I’m pretty sure one of my friends just found him and adopted him into our group, then we haven’t been able to get rid of him since.” You smiled and nodded along to his words. “He said you’re his friends sister?”

“Yeah, he spends a lot of time eating my brothers food and giving him tattoos of random things.” Jeno smiled in amusement and turned his attention to the waiter as he came over. You both ordered your food and drinks and then you saw as he let out a small sigh, trying to avoid making eye contact with you. It baffled you as to why he agreed to go on a date with you when he clearly didn’t want to. ‘Maybe he doesn’t think I’m attractive…’ you couldn’t help but think to yourself as you let your mind wonder. You couldn’t stand the horrid silence, so you did what you did best in awkward situations. Talk. You didn’t mean to, but it always happened subconsciously as your battle against the quiet. You found yourself talking about the most random things, asking him questions that you only got brief answers to. You told him all about your life, how you were a student at a nearby university studying something you found boring but essential to the job you wanted. You also told him that you were in the middle of learning how to drive, but it was a slow process because you were busy with university. Until your food came and you suddenly realised just how long you’d been talking for. “I’ve been talking so much, I’m sorry I haven’t given you any chance to speak!” You could feel your cheeks heat up as embarrassment set in. Jeno gave you a gentle smile and sipped at his drink.

“I’m enjoying listening to you, I haven’t got much to tell you about my own life so I’m happy to listen to you about yours.” He sounded genuine, which made you let out a short sigh of relief. He chuckled when he saw you sigh. “You’re very sweet, much different to the people I spend my time with, so I’m enjoying your company. Please don’t think that because I don’t talk much that I’m not interested.” He started to eat his food at the same time you started your own. You smiled, happy that he was interested in what you had to say, but you couldn’t help but wonder why he said he hadn’t got much to tell you about his life. The rest of the date flew by pretty much the same. You would talk about anything you could think of whilst Jeno just nodded along and interjected his thoughts when he saw fit. You had managed to find out a little about his life, that he doesn’t see his parents often, he spends most of his free time working out because he only works part time at his friends uncle’s mechanic shop, and he bleaches his hair because he hates his natural hair colour.

The two of you left the restaurant after he paid the bill, which you had tried to pay half of, but he hadn’t let you. “You can pay for ice cream on our next date.” He’s mumbled with red cheeks as he held the door open for you on your way out.

“Ooooh what’s your favourite ice cream flavour?” You smiled widely, having completely missed that he’d shown interest in a second date with you. He looked down at you and couldn’t help the way his cheeks tugged his own lips into a smile.

“Vanilla.”

“Boring!”

“It’s not! What’s your favourite flavour then?” He shoved his hands in his jacket pocket as he watched you.

“Vanilla.” You giggled as his mouth popped open. He looked scandalised at your words and his eyebrows furrowed.

“You just accused vanilla of being boring!”

“But I never said that I wasn’t boring too.” You shrugged. His face fell and he shook his head as he looked down at you.

“I don’t think that you’re boring…hey can I get your number? So we can arrange our next date.” He looked down at his feet, a slight nervous fire burning in his stomach at the thought of you turning him down. Your whole face lit up and you nodded eagerly, quickly taking his phone from him to put your number in when he held it out to you. “Can I give you a ride home?” You felt your phone buzz and looked down to see an unknown number, the message being a simple ‘Hi it’s Jeno’. You saved his number and smiled up at him.

“If it’s okay? I don’t want you to go out of your way.” You felt your stomach do a little flip when he let out a soft laugh and a shrug.

“It’s cool, come on.” He placed his hand on your lower back and guided you to the car park. He took you over to a sporty black car and opened the door for you, you slipped in the car and thanked him, looking at the sleek interior as you waited for him to get in beside you. You briefly wondered how he could afford a car this nice when he had told you that he was currently not working. “Where do you live?”

“Do you know the apartment buildings near the water tower?” He nodded in response, a gasp leaving his mouth.

“Wait you live there? I live there too, in the red bricked building!”

“No freaking way! I live in the white bricked building!” You both had surprised looks on your faces as you both found out that you live in the apartment buildings opposite each other.

“What are the chances?” He laughed, starting to drive towards the apartment buildings. You didn’t have much more to say, so you stared out of the window into the darkness of the night as the radio hummed a slow song throughout the atmosphere of the car. You mulled over the whole night in your head, unable to get rid the smile that sat contently on your face at the thought of your date. Jeno drummed his fingers gently against the steering wheel as he drove, his eyes darting over to you every now and then to check up on you. He stopped on the side of the road that his apartment building was on, hurrying to get out and rushing around the car to open the door for you. You felt butterflies in your stomach at the small gesture, thanking him as you climbed out of the car. “I’ll walk you to your building.”

“Thanks.” You walked with him across the road and suddenly feel a nervousness in your stomach. “I had fun.” You blurt out, rocking back and forth on your feet as he watched you stood by the door. He had a small smile on his face, and he nodded, mumbling a soft ‘me too’. You cleared your throat and turned to unlocked the door to your apartment building when you felt his hand gently tug on your own, the one that wasn’t busy unlocking the door. Your stomach dropped, thoughts running through your mind at what he might want from you. Did he expect you to have sex on the first date?!

“Hey,” When you turned around, he stepped closer, ducking down and planting a soft kiss to your cheek which felt like it was about to combust in flames from how hot it felt. He smiled wider when he saw your bashful smile, with your eyes darting around to look anywhere but at him. He could see that you were quite a shy person, and it made him feel something in his stomach that he couldn’t quite identify. “See ya.” He turned around and walked across the street as you opened your door and let yourself in. Once you were behind walking up the stairs to your apartment you let out a little squeal of excitement.

“Oh my gosh!” You jumped up and down like an exciting schoolgirl fawning over their crush. You couldn’t believe that your first date with a man who was as good looking as that went so well. Jeno seemed kind of rough around the edges in appearance, but his personality was the complete opposite, obviously you knew that he hadn’t shown you all of him yet, but your first impressions were very good. Still, you felt yourself getting sucked into his dark brown eyes whenever he talked, which wasn’t often, but it was enough.  Needless to say, you went to sleep that night with a huge smile on your face, anticipating what’s to come.

---

“How did the date go?” Was the first thing Jeno heard when he walked through the door of the apartment after dropping you off at your own apartment. He headed into the living room and saw that Renjun had 1 year old Jiyeon sitting on his lap with kids cartoons playing on the television, Jaemin had a family sized packet of doritos laying on his stomach as he slouched beside Renjun, passing a chip to Jiyeon before shovelling loads into his own mouth, and Haechan had his girlfriend snuggled into his chest on the other sofa. Jeno’s heart sunk through his stomach as he saw his ex-girlfriend looking at his best friend with so much love in her eyes, a look she never gave him when they were together. It felt to him as though all of the happiness he’d built up from his date was flushed down the toilet as he tore his eyes away from the couple. It was very apparent to him in that moment that he wasn’t over her, and his feelings for her hadn’t gone away at all.

“Good, really good. I got her number.” He gulped before mumbling, awkwardly scratching his head and sighing as he took off his jacket. She pulled her head away from Haechan’s chest and gave him an awkward smile.

“You went on a date?” She asked softly.

“Mhm.” He didn’t trust his voice, so he just hummed and nodded.

“I’m happy for you Jen.” The whole room felt like it was suffocating him as all eyes turned to look at him. It felt very much like pity to Jeno, causing heat to rush to his cheeks and a slight resentment and anger to boil inside of him. Ever since they’d ended things, his anger issues had spiked, and he found it hard to control his temper. The only time he’d ever been as angry was before he’d went to prison. He was like a ticking time bomb, or a bottle of soda that had been shook and ready to pop at any minute.

“Whatever.” He grunted, sinking on the sofa on the other side of Renjun and ignoring the way she cowered to his voice, settling her head back on Haechan’s chest as he scowled at Jeno. He didn’t mean to be cruel to her, he wanted nothing more than to be the one she was cuddling up to, but the resentment for her loving Haechan when she was supposed to love him still sat heavy inside of him.

“Jennie!” Jiyeon chirped, wiggling her way off of her father’s lap to sit on her uncle’s lap. She smiled at him and laid herself against his chest.

“Hi cupcake.” He ran his hand through her jet-black hair, wrapping his arms around her tiny frame and sighing as he cuddled her for comfort. “She’s starting to look more like you Renjun.” He commented, trying to change the tone in the room so it was less about him and more about the toddler cuddling him.

“She’s blessed then because I’m-”

“Ugly as fuck.” Jaemin mumbled, cutting Renjun off before he could finish and shovelling more chips into his mouth as he watched the kid cartoons. Renjun frowned, slamming his fist down on Jaemin’s packet of doritos and smirking when the sound of them crushing into small pieces sounded throughout the room. Jiyeon laughed loudly as she watched the interaction between them, the sound of her sweet laughter calming Jeno down completely.

---

The cool air in the bar kept your cheeks from blazing in heat every time Jeno looked you in the eye. The bar wasn’t very busy, making it feel more intimate as you didn’t have to compete with other voices to allow Jeno’s ears to hear your voice. It was dark in the bar, the cover of night making visibility poor despite how the artificial lights in the bar tried their hardest to lit the place up with mood lighting. His blond hair was pushed back off of his forehead, and small smudges of black eyeliner around his beautiful eyes. His black button up shirt had the first two buttons undone, and he had a pair of black skinny jeans on, his hair being the only contrast to his entirely black outfit. You wore a simple dress and flats, keeping close to him in the busy bar as to not have random people bump into you. He had his hand pressed to your lower back and he kept his eyes on the people around you both. You took a mouthful of your drink and looked up at Jeno, completely in awe of his handsome looks. He had his eyes trained on someone behind you and he didn’t seem to be tearing his eyes away from them. You didn’t want to turn around, just in case he was staring at another woman. You didn’t think you’d be able to handle that well if that was the case. It was your second date, a week from your first date, so you hoped that he at least had some affection towards you despite the fact the two of you hadn’t actually made your relationship official.

“So…” You racked your brain to quickly think of something you could say to him that would bring his attention back to you. “I…er…I had another driving lesson today, it went well!” You smiled up at him, but he still continued to stare over the top of your head, completely ignoring you. You felt dejected, letting out a soft sigh and looking down at your feet. You felt as though he wasn’t interest in you at all. You’d hardly gotten anything out of him the entire time you’d been stood beside him at the bar, and you felt as though a brick wall would be more interested in you. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that the hand he had set on the side of the bar curled into a fist, and his body visibly tensed up.

“Hey!” He snapped, causing you to flinch and look up at him with worry in your eyes, expecting that he was going to be looking at you, ready to have a go at you, you didn’t know why though, you didn’t think you’d done anything wrong. “Stop staring at my girlfriend.” He growled; his eyes still trained over the top of your head. Your eyes widened and you turned around, noticing a middle-aged man stood a few metres away from you with his eyes stuck on you. Your mouth dropped open as you realised Jeno had been staring out the creepy looking guy, being protective over you. Your heart flipped and you felt silly for having thought he was eyeing up another woman. A wave of heat rushed through you as you realised Jeno must have been interested in you to get so worked up over another man staring at you, also he referred to you as his girlfriend, which caught you off guard but made a flower of happiness blossom inside of you.

“What are you going to do about it?” The man smirked, clearly not caring that he was antagonising Jeno. Jeno’s face hardened more and he pulled you quickly so that you were behind him, not having any worry in approaching the man and getting close to him.

“Do you really want to find out?” He said lowly, his tone dripping in threat as both of his fists clenched up, his shoulders tensing too and becoming broader as he squared up to the man. The man smirked and stood up straighter, about the same height as Jeno and ready to fight him. You gasped, gently laying a hand on Jeno’s shoulder.

“Jeno come on, lets just go.” You spoke softly, feeling the muscle underneath your hand relax momentarily.

“She’s too good for you. She needs a man, not a boy.” The man laughed, glancing past Jeno to wink at you. Jeno shoved him so hard that he tripped over the bar stool behind him and fell on his ass. The man had a face of complete shock, clearly not having expected the ‘boy’ to be that strong and gutsy enough to actually put him on his ass.

“One more word and you won’t be feeling like a man for a long time.” Jeno snapped, standing over the man and giving him a look that could probably petrify someone. You knew Jeno was rough around the edges, but you never would have thought he could do something like that. It shocked you and you felt yourself taking a few steps back from him, not knowing him well enough to know what he was going to do next. After silence fell between them both, Jeno turned around, snatching your hand into his own and pulling you firmly out of the bar. You had to jog to keep up with his fast strides. He didn’t let go of your hand, and pulled you down the street, his shoulders still tense and his breathing heavy. The grip he had on your hand was starting to hurt more from how hard he was squeezing your hand, which was considerably smaller than his own.

“Jeno…you’re hurting me.” You said quietly, but he heard you. Stopping almost immediately he turned to look at you, letting go of your hand and gulping. He looked down once before looking back up, giving you direct eye contact that almost made you have a heart attack.

“I’m sorry…are you okay?” He looked worried, all of his pent-up anger washing away after hearing your fragile tone. You nodded, flexing your fingers out and rubbing your hand with your other hand.

“Are you okay?” You asked, concerned about him for how he acted in that situation.

“I’m fine. I’m sorry you had to see me like that…we need to talk.” His gave you a weak smile, almost like he was giving you pity, which made your stomach fall to the floor as you thought he was about to end things with you.

“O-oh…okay.” He got out his car keys and you followed him to his car. He unlocked it and motioned with his head for you to climb in. You both got in, but he made no effort in turning on the car, and instead put his keys in the cupholder before turning to him.

“I lied to you about my job. I don’t help out at the mechanic shop. I fight, illegally.” His words had your eyebrows raising in surprise, many of questions sitting on the tip of your tongue, but left unsaid as you had a feeling he was about to go into more detail anyway. “It’s called underground street fighting, and it’s not legal in the slightest. It’s dangerous, and I’ve been injured more times than I care to admit, and I’ve also inflicted life changing injuries on other men. I’ve seen people black out and never wake up again. It’s tough but…it’s really good money, and it’s a way that I can let go of all of my anger. I have a lot of anger problems, I won’t lie to you about it, it’s bad, and honestly I’m surprised that I managed to walk away from that asshole without punching him in the face.” He let out a very gently laugh that was humourless, his eyes searching your face for your reaction. You just nodded, biting you bottom lip as it occurred to you that you were dating a very dangerous man.

“Why?” You asked, causing his head to tilt in question.

“Why what?”

“Why are you so angry?” Your voice was quiet and soft but held no judgement towards him. You really liked him, and this was the furthest you’d ever gotten with a guy, so you didn’t want to throw it all away just because he was a little bit different from everyone else. He took a deep breath and looked away from you for a moment, before dragging his eyes back to look at you. It was dark in the car, the only light coming from the streetlight above his car, but you could still see the painful look in his eyes as he opened his mouth to speak to you.

“I grew up in a very poor family with a father who abused my mum and me. It caused my mum to have very bad depression, which had an effect on me. I let the abuse happen for too long, and then when I was 15 I got introduced into the street fighting. I finally felt like I had some power, and it earnt me a lot of money, which I’d never had before. Even though I was fighting out of the house, at home I was still being beaten, and one night when I as 17, my dad hit my mum so hard that the force of her hitting the wall left a dent in it.” He paused, squeezing his eyes shut as he remembered the memory. You reached out and took his hand in both of yours, showing him that you were listening and not judging him. “I saw red, I just remember pulling my dad away from her. I don’t remember much of what happened, because I was in a frenzy. But the next thing I remember is my mum trying to pull me off of my dad. He was underneath me on the floor and his face was…unrecognisable. There was so much blood…” He remembered how his hands were shaking and covered in blood, a mixture of his fathers’ blood and his own blood from how his fists had pummelled into his fathers’ face. His face was wet with tears and blood that had spurted from his life givers face, and he remembered how his own mother cowered away from him like he was the one who had been inflicting pain on her for the past 17 years of his life. “She called for an ambulance whilst I sat on the floor covered in blood. The police came as well, and I got arrested. I went to prison for a year because I was still a minor and they classed it as self-defence. My mother visited me once, and I don’t see her often because she says its hard for her to look at me after what I did. But she isn’t with my father anymore, so I can live with that.” You could tell from the tone of his voice that even though he said he could live with it, that it was hard for him to live with it. It suddenly occurred to you that he wasn’t different from other people. He was simply a broken person trying their best to live in a world where he’d been dealt shit cards from the start.

“Is your dad…?” You couldn’t bring yourself to finish your sentence, but he knew what you were asking.

“No. He’s alive. I don’t know where he is or what he’s doing. Hell I don’t even know if he looks the same as what he used to. I did a lot of damage to his face so…” He shrugged, his hand holding onto yours firmly. “After I came out of prison, I continued street fighting and moved in with my friends. They had all gotten a place together and left a room free for me when I got out. They’re my family now.”

“I’m glad you have people you can rely on; they sound like great people.” He laughed at your words.

“A teen dad, a drug dealer, and an illegal street racer. They’re great, but not morally.” He chuckled at your shocked expression, using his free hand to reach out and cup your cheek. “They’re harmless to people that don’t get on their bad side.” He stroked his thumb over your hot skin and smiled at you. He felt affection bloom in his stomach when he saw that you accepted him for who he was. It was different with his ex, she was used to the lifestyle he lived like, but he knew from your stories that you were raised in a respectable household and you’d never done anything bad in your entire life. You were complete polar opposites, and for the first time in months he could think about his ex-girlfriend and not feel a pull towards her like her had before. Instead he was being pulled towards you like a magnet. You were the positive side, and he was the negative side, and you fit together so perfectly.

“I hope they’ll like me.” You admitted, leaning your head into his touch to show you were enjoying it.

“They will.” He smiled, neglecting to tell you that one of his best friends was dating his ex-girlfriend, but he could only pile so much information on you at a time without overwhelming you.

“I actually have a small confession to make too.” You plucked up the courage despite the pang of anxiety you felt in your stomach.

“Oh god, you’re not a crazy axe murderer, are you?” He was clearly joking, his eye dropping into a wink as he pretending to be shocked.

“No!” You giggled, his hand dropping to your hands. “I’ve never dated anybody before, and I’ve never had a boyfriend…or had sex. I have been kissed though!” His smile never faltered and if anything, he felt even more drawn towards you, liking that you were pure for him. it drove him crazy to even think about another man having his hands on you. “So this is all new to me, and I’m super nervous but trying to play it cool so that you didn’t think I was strange or anything, and I really like you and I don’t care about your job and-” You were cut off by his lips pressing to your own, your eyes shutting as you melted into the kiss. It was short and sweet, but his lips did linger and place another peck to your lips.

“I guess I should do this properly then.” He smiled, kissing you once more and smiling into the kiss. “(Y/N), do you want to be my girlfriend?” He pulled away from you and stared into your eyes. You felt your cheeks almost burning up, the car feeling suddenly stuffy as you looked at him.

“Yes.” You nodded quickly, letting your eyes slowly shut as his hands cupped your face, drawing his lips to yours once more in a slower, more passionate kiss.

---

 Hey! Thank you for reading! Did you like it? What do you think so far? What do you think is going to happen? Let me know!

[luke-patterson-owns-my-soul]

Stood Up

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Title: Stood Up

Words: 2,206

Summary:

Requested: By @crybabyddl  Can u do a charlie x reader where they’re strangers at the same restaurant and the reader got stood up by their date? Then charlie is basically like “let me take u on a date” and they just go around the town and have a blast? He gives the reader their first kiss and they exchange numbers? TW: None. Author’s notes: I hope you enjoy this. I kinda forgot about the first kiss thing, but I hope the direction I took it in works for you.

Giving yourself a final once over in the mirror to make sure your make-up was still in place and you hadn’t tucked your dress into your underwear or something ridiculous like that. If you were honest with yourself, you looked good. The black dress you borrowed from your best friend fit you perfectly, and wasn’t too slutty, but just enough to, hopefully, tempt your date.

It had been a while since you’d last been on a first date, but something about a guy flirting with you at work, being so confident, and good looking, made you agree to not only give him your number, but to agree to him taking you to dinner.

Jack had made a reservation at one of the nicest restaurants in London and would be meeting you there. You were a little hesitant to give him your address to pick you up before you spent any real time with him.

Checking the time, you started to panic about being late, so you ordered your uber as you grabbed a light jacket and your purse. Going outside, you waited outside your apartment building until it showed up.

Arriving at the restaurant, you check in with the hostess who leads you to a table for two, informing you Jack hadn’t arrived. You order a glass of wine and settle in to wait. As you look around the room, you notice a lot of couples. Some who seem to be on first dates, others who seemed to know one another more intimately.

A few tables over, you see a guy sitting alone. His long, dark hair is tied up in a man bun which you can’t help but admire. His shirt sleeves are rolled up as he leans his toned forearms on the table in front of him, his long fingers idly playing with the cloth napkin in front of him. You can see a hint of ink on one of his arms, but you’re too far to work out what it is.

Lifting your eyes, you take in his profile. From where you sit, you can see he has a strong jaw, a hint of stubble, and light eyes. Although you’re waiting for another man, you kind of hope he’d turn to look at you so you can see more of him, but you’re disturbed by the server bringing you your drink and a basket of bread sticks.

Thanking them, you tip your wine, and nibble on the end of a bread stick while you wait for Jack to arrive. Slowly, you make your way through the drink and order another. When you finally pull your phone out of your purse, you realise you’ve been sat in the restaurant for just over an hour.

With a sigh, you take a look around you again, noticing that many of the couples had left and the space around you was emptying. You finish your second drink and ask a passing server for your check. Once it arrives, you leave some cash, including a generous tip and gather your things to leave.

Embarrassment floods through you as you see heads turn to look at you. Being stood up isn’t your favourite thing, but it happening so publicly makes it a hundred times worse. You pull your jacket on, and start to weave your way through the tables.

Once you’re outside, you take a deep breath before looking out for a passing cab. Naturally, there isn’t one and you begin walking in the direction of your FLAT. You haven’t gone far when you’re tapped on the shoulder. Thinking it’s Jack, you turn to yell at him.

It’s not him. It’s the guy from the restaurant, the one who’d been sitting alone. You notice his eyes are a hazel colour and they’re bright. His smile is wide and you feel a flutter in your stomach at his proximity.

“Sorry if I made you jump,” His voice is smooth, and you can’t help but smile back at him. “I saw you back in there.” Of course he did. He witnessed you waiting for a guy who never showed, witnessed you looking like a complete fool. More than anything you wished a cab would show up so you can make your escape.

“Yeah, not my finest hour.” You look away from his face as he chuckles softly. “I should have left sooner, but hell. Hope’s a bit of an evil bitch though.”

“You gave in after an hour, I waited almost two…” His voice trailed off, making you look back up at him.

“You got stood up?” You blurt out, instantly cursing yourself in your mind. “Sorry, that came out wrong.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. From anyone else it would sound like a joke, but somehow… somehow from you it doesn’t.” You smile up at him, glad he wasn’t offended. “Anyway, I was wondering…” A shy smile comes over his face as he pulls at the collar of his shirt under the dark denim jacket he wore. “Seeing as we’re both in the same boat, how about we make the most of our night, together.”

The words shock you, but there’s also a hint of pleasure in what he’s asking you.

“No offence, but why should I pick spending the rest of my evening with you rather than going home, putting my PJs on, and binge watching Supernatural? I don’t even know your name.”

“First, I’m Charlie. Charlie Gillespie.”

“International man of mystery?” You tease him at the way he introduces himself, making him laugh.

“Hey, Canadians would make great spies. And to answer your question, yeah, a night with the Winchesters would be great. But wouldn’t you rather be with someone who isn’t fictional?”

“I may have to be convinced.” With a smirk, you begin to walk away, as if you’re leaving him behind.

“Wait up.” He catches you up and falls into step with you. “what will it take to convince you?” You stop walking and look up at him. He’s not tall, but he’s taller than you, which you can’t help but like.

“It depends. How averse are you to ice skating?” you ask.

“I grew up in Canada, I’m an excellent skater.” He holds his arm out for you. With a smile, you tuck your hand in the crook of his elbow and the two of you begin to walk through the London streets. “Uhm… what’s your name by the way?”

“Oh, it’s Y/N.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” You feel your face heat with a blush at both his compliment and the smile on his face. “DO you, er…, do you wanna get changed first?”

You look down at the short dress you’re wearing. For a literal second, you debate it, then decide against it.

“No, I’m good.” You tell him, your confidence in your ability taking over.

“Ok, but if you fall and flash people, I’d like it noted that I warned you.”

“It’s been noted.”

You arrive at the outdoor ice rink and both claim some skates. You hate the feel of them, knowing you have your own at home that are perfectly moulded to your feet.

“Are you ready?” Charlie asks, holding out his hand to you. Taking hold of it, you stand up and the two of you walk over to the edge of the ice.

“Always ready.” Letting go of his hand, you place a blade onto the ice and glide away from him smoothly. Performing a little spin, you face him and wait for him to catch up with you as you skate backwards effortlessly.

“Okay, I guess I owe you an apology?” he laughs when he catches up with you, his own skating, while rusty, impressing you. “You’re pretty good.”

“Well, thank you. You’re not too bad yourself.” Once again, Charlie takes hold of your hand and the two of you move across the ice. Every now and then, you show off, performing spins and jumps that you haven’t done for a long time, making Charlie smile.

After a while, when you can feel the cold seeping into your legs, you both leave the ice and go to get a hot drink.

“So, are you a professional skater?” He asks as you sit down to drink your coffees.

“No, I never got to go pro, but I got close.” You admit, noticing the impressed look on his face.

“What stopped you?”

“I went to university and discovered what a social life felt like.” He laughs at your words. “I realised that having friends was better than constant training.”

“That sounds fair.”

“So, what do you do?” you ask him, noticing he looks away from you. “Why so sheepish?” You’re intrigued now, just from his reaction.

“I’m an actor and a musician.” You can’t help it, but you burst out laughing.

“Why were you embarrassed to admit that to me?”

“I don’t know. It’s different in the States and back home in Canada, but elsewhere, it’s weird. I don’t like people to think I’m bragging or something.”

“Look, own your talents. If you love what you do, screw what anyone else thinks.” He smiles, but doesn’t respond as silence falls between you as you both finish your drinks.

“You want to skate some more?” he asks as you both stand.

“I’ll never say no to more skating.” You grin at him and take hold of his offered hand. It should feel awkward holding a strange guy’s hand so much, but it doesn’t. His long fingers, warmed by his coffee, wrap around yours as he leads you back to the rink. As you put a blade onto the ice, the lights dim as a DJ begins to play loud dance music.

“So, Mr Musician, do you dance?” You ask as you turn to him, skating backwards as the rink fills up around you.

“Not as well as I play guitar.”

“Stick with me kid, you’ll be okay.” You give his hand a tug to pull him along. You can’t help but be sucked into the beat of the music filling the air around you. Moving your body in time, you show off a few of you skills, all the time keeping your hand in Charlie’s.

Feeling his eyes on you, you turn to look at him, seeing a small smile on his face as he watches you move.

“What?” you ask, slowing to a stop, causing him to almost bump into you.

“Nothing, I’m just enjoying the show.” He raises an eyebrow as he smiles widely.

“This is nothing. I’m pulling a bit of dead weight with me.”

“Is that so?” He let’s go of your hand and indicates for you to do your thing. “Go on then, show off.” He leans back against the side of the rink and watches you, an intense look on his face.

You move around on the ice, building up speed. Once you’re going fast enough, you pull off an almost flawless half axel before spinning on one skate, the other leg pulled up to the side of your head. Once you slow and stop, you skate back over to where Charlie is applauding.

“That was amazing. You’re really good.” You blush at the compliment and look away.

“I’m rusty as hell, but thank you.”

The air between you is charged with something you couldn’t quite identify as the disco lights slow down and the music drops from frenetic to a slower track, A quick glance at the watch on your writs, you realise you and Charlie have been skating for over four hours and it’s almost midnight.

“One last dance?” He asks, holding out his hand yet again. You take hold and expect him to start leading you around the rink. Instead, he pulls you into his arms and the two of you sway on your skates near the edge of the rink, careful not to get into anyone’s way. “Can I make a confession?” He speaks softly into your ear.

“Sure.” You wonder if you should be nervous about what he’s going to say.

“I’m glad you were stood up. If not, I wouldn’t have got up the nerve to speak to you after I got a text from my date saying she’d had a better offer.” Pulling away from his hard chest and looked up at him.

“Got a better offer?” Was the woman insane? You may not know Charlie, but from what you’d learned from spending time with him, he was a genuinely nice guy and anyone would be crazy to skip out on a date with him.

“Apparently so, but I was set up with her by my sister, so I’m not too bothered. Plus, I wouldn’t have been able to do this.” He bent his head and kissed you as the lights around on you blared to life.

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Tag List: @xplrreylo​ @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ @morganayennefertyrell​ @lovesanimals​

If you’d like to be added to tags, please let me know.

[mcytbdamofficial]

A strange question. If the official DSMP lore of (a) character/s ever heavily changes from what you wrote it as (in example, if c!Velvet turns out to be long dead or the velvetisegg theory is true, or any of the major characters- that their canon lore starts being majorily different), how do you come up with things that would make them "fit in" again? I am just genuiely curious about that

usually a good way to go around things like that is to fall back on what i've already established and try to spin it in the right way. a good thing to use is the nether lore as well as everything with the memories - things like that are unpredictable and pretty much anything can come to light at any point.

(this answer went on for a while longer than i expected so i’ll put it under the cut in case there’s someone scrollin who doesn’t want this whole thing clogging up their dash)

a good example would be the sbi family canon - when phil first shouted the words "you're my son!" a lot of people instantly thought that techno, wilbur and tommy being his sons had been basically canonized (obviously this got debunked later with only wilbur being his son, but at the time that was the canon i went with and had to somehow push in). until a part of the story i wasn't planning to make the sbi family canon, so i had to think of something fast. so i considered how phil, for whatever reason, supported techno's reign during the antarctic empire days. why did he just outright follow him when his acts were universally regarded as evil? initial ideas were he, himself, was rather bloodthirsty, but this new issue came around and i used this blank in the story as a way to explain it - of COURSE phil would support techno unconditionally, he's his son, after all. later on, i managed to strike a balance in the story between phil supporting techno because of them being family, as well as him, himself, having his own agenda in the empire itself (bringing along the bloodthirsty nature of techno, which in turn i later explained with the voices, once those were canonized. that solution to a new canon was practically handed to me, with how i wrote the bloodlust as a voice beforehand. i just had to change it to “voices”).

for your example, i have one idea that could work! if velvet turns out long dead, i could quickly explain it in a simple way. ant WAS getting letters from velvet, but at one point they stopped and he received news velvet had died. ant has been lying about getting letters after some point because he didn't want other people who knew him to get hurt, and maybe he's even in a certain level of denial.

if velvet IS the egg, that could be more complicated, but still doable. tie it all into the source/nether lore, make him some sort of god or symbol of chaos, just play around with the rules of my own world until things fall into place. usually, somehow, i will find a way out just by stepping back and analysing what i already have prepared and thinking of how it can help me insert a new idea into the story without disturbing what's already there. 

this is basically how wilbur being a source came into fruition! initial ideas were him and schlatt decided themselves to not enter the bunker and escape the flood on their own, but how would that make sense? oh yeah, what if one of them IS the flood? then i rewatch the video, and who other than wilbur is putting the commands in to make the water rise! it was too perfect not to somehow include it, yknow? and then boom, i have this cool lore about sources. why not use it? and yes, initially sources were JUST gonna be a passing mention in the captain’s journal. they weren’t ever planned to go this far. and before you know it we have wilbur, kristin, foolish, hannah...

so yeah. what i’m saying is. when in doubt, use nether lore. and that’s how i’ll go around whatever comes of the egg, in the end.

a lot of it also comes down to very careful storytelling and knowing what to change and what to leave alone. when the story started there was a set amount of people that i knew were involved in the roleplay and others i knew would NEVER get involved (keep in mind the story started being written before even the festival happened live, HELL, even villbur wasn't a thing back then), and separated them into small groups based on what i could and what i couldn't play around with. for example;

i could easily change callahan, alyssa, etc around... they're people who barely appear who aren't involved in the storyline. i gave them small appearances to show they're there and mostly kept them to the back.

people who i KNOW will never join the smp can be mentioned, referenced or even included! minx is probably the prime example of this. and if she ever DOES join the smp, by some magical chance? there can always be some magical book in the library that can reverse her from a dreamon to a human. so nothing to worry about there.

future major characters like dream, quackity, niki, etc didn't have much at the start but needed something to push them into their future arcs. in these characters i changed their start but made sure it left space to be moulded into anything they become later - i made niki kind but i also showed her early critisism of wilbur, already sensing she may have a villian arc coming in the future. when season 2 came around, i was proved right so i went in on those small hints more and more.

for characters who have an established arc, start to finish, who it's hard to change in any way, i change nothing - but i look at their past. the obvious people for this are schlatt and wilbur. on the smp they were characters start to finish, their arcs started and ended in the story and had nothing else. so i focused on the past, instead. and boom, suddenly we have 35 smplive chapters of completely original content.

with every character i live small hints of SOMETHING coming in the future. i leave small holes to be eventually filled by canon, and if canon gives me nothing, i fill them myself with something minor. another good thing is to trust fanon - with a fandom like this, where the creators listen to their fans and canonize a lot of popular fanon, it's good to go in on small fanon knowing it will eventually be canon, or even knowing it will make readers happy and will never impact the story, no matter how much it changes (think tubbo having horns, puffy being a pirate/sea captain of some sort, stuff like that)

there are, of course, times when i can’t avoid changing things from canon. phil not knowing who schlatt is, wilbur not knowing schlatt, etc... but i think in those places, those changes serve to improve the story in some way, and i think it’s a welcome change in the end. this story is definitely leaning more into AU than RETELLING, but i don’t think it’s such a bad thing. while faithfully retelling every major plot point, it adds its own elements and creates a somewhat new and exciting story people can enjoy anew. i think that’s what i strive to do the most in this fic - not retell the story word for word. you’ve already seen the videos. you don’t need that. what i DO want to do is create an engaging read for both avid fans who have seen every stream and casual fans who want the lore to make a little bit more sense to them. and that’s that.

god that went on a while didn’t it haha...

okay so to summarise - whenever something major changes in the canon lore, i have various ways of going about it. usually for some characters i would have left behind hints of SOMETHING and will just try to fit them into whatever change has showed up, or try to at the very least explain them with the new development so it doesn’t seem out of nowhere.

if that is not possible, i look back on all i established and think how i can use it to my advantage. could someone have been forgotten in an old world? is there some sort of nether anomaly that could have caused this? is this character a reliable narrator and have we gotten the full truth? there are a lot of ways to change things around with it being completely out of the blue but seeming fitting for the audience - you just have to really think it through, plan it, and make sure you know exactly what you want to do before going into it.

and finally, if there truly is no way to change a thing, shift canon completely and make sure it doesn’t change the base story. allow me to use the sbi as an example again, since i think they’re a good tool for this;

techno will take tommy in and help him recover from exile, same as canon, because he is his brother, as bdam canon states. at first he’ll just do it because phil wanted him to, but soon it will become a matter of family. when tommy betrays techno, it will hurt him more deeply BECAUSE they’re brothers. when he comes back to phil and tells him what happened, even phil himself will become enraged. the two themselves have been shown to have a history of resorting to violence and aggression in the story (look back at the antarctic empire), so doomsday wouldn’t seem out of  character, or, at the very least, out of the question, when two men like them are pushed to their very limits by a betrayal like this. still, it would be unfair on tommy, but on both sides there would be something justified and something they did wrong - and that’s how you balance a good conflict in any story.

so yeah. i hope this long ass essay made sense. a lot of work goes into making sure this story flows naturally, so i’m glad someone finally asked something like this where i could reveal just how much work goes into it!!!

[greytoiletpaper]

Out on Allen Street, it’s 7 in the Morning

Set in the same-ish street-siblings universe as First Contact by @cryptids-and-muses and @a-sketchy-character @streetsiblings (they’re still awesome). I present to you... Angst.

Drizzle | AO3 

Chapter 2: Deluge

Felipe Garzonas falls.

Jason cannot find it in himself to care. The man was human garbage at best-

A shriek of anguish rents the air, a woman's, while the stalking man pounces on her and bays with his manic glee.

-and they were just going to let him go? No dice. Jason did not push him off the edge, but it’s still satisfying enough for him to know the man is gone now.

It is here, on this rooftop, that Jason understands that the horrors of the world can never be contained, only controlled. In what ways, he isn’t sure yet, but when he thinks of killing, all he can imagine is a figure adorned in a red helmet, ruthless and proud.

When Bruce takes Jason away from the scene, long crimson snakes flow off Garzonas’ body with the deluge, painting the face of Gotham.

Cass believes Jay when he says he didn’t kill Garzonas. He can lie like the best of them, but he can never hide anything from her. Bruce still doesn’t believe him even when she says as much.

“You’re a danger to yourself and the people around you,” Bruce is saying. Cold is the only way that Cass can describe his body.

For as long as she has been with Bruce, Cass has not thought of David. But looking at him now, a small, insidious part of the man that projects the urge to control (something she had only seen from David) starts to slip through. She is so thrown about what to think that she almost misses him firing Jay as Robin.

“No.”

“But Cass-.”

“No.”

Jason resists the urge to groan at his sister. Above them, the three names of his potential mothers are displayed clearly and brightly.

“I get why you don’t want me to. But think of what will happen if we manage to bring one! We could- we could-.”

“My brother,” Cass says, with finality. She gestures to the names (although ‘Sandra Wu-san’ in particular catches both their eyes). “Not theirs.”

Cass makes that stance she always does when she wants him to stop, her back hunched and her eyes pleading. He hates it when she does that, which is why he bites back a sigh.

“Fine. I’ll leave it alone,” Cass has been trying harder to get her smile right. Her effort shows when she gives him a mega-watt grin when he relents.

“My family, love,” She says as she hugs him before leading him away to raid the freezer for Neapolitan.

Later that night, Jason leaves his copy of Huckleberry Finn on her nightstand. He has to make sure that she doesn't think he'd left her behind when he goes. As Jason leaves the window wide open, his sole companion is the rain for the first time in years.

Gotham feels it as it happens. As the madman clubs her boy over and over with his crowbar. She feels every bruise, every bone that fractures, every act of pure, unadulterated cruelty inflicted on Jason.

Her eldest cradles the body, surrounded by a field of debris and smoke left in the wake of the monster that is the Joker. She washes the blood away with her tears.

When Cassandra wakes to see her brother’s prized possession on her nightstand, she instantly knows and never lets it go, even as the sky opens up in time with her tears.

--

As the casket lowers into the earth, she absently notes no rain, not a cloud in sight. Somehow, in the void that is the Jason-shaped hole in her heart, she realises he would have hated it.

“I think… I want to have my burial when it rains. Gives a whole ‘nother meaning to bleary doesn’t it?” Jason had confessed that once, a slight chuckle drawing from his chest. It fades as fast as it came. He looked away, then. “I don’t think I’d rest in peace without it.”

Cassandra fills the silence with the hymns of her tears – droplets staining the well-loved pages of the last piece of her brother – and hopes that it will be enough.

In her mind, her efforts are for naught when they devolve into wails as the first shovelfuls of dirt encase the ebony coffin.

--

The first thing she sees when she enters the cave is- is the atrocious thing. All the noise in the cave seems to phase out. The squeaking of the bats. The banter between Dick and Babs. The low murmurs of Bruce and Alfred in the corner. All she can focus on is the caricature of her brother in full view of everyone in the Batcave. She looks at it, and the world becomes a sea of pink and brown and white. The uniform he died in still bloody and ragged; all her thoughts a cacophony of wailing; iron on her tongue; roaring in her ears; she feels nothing in her but pain.

Jason Peter Todd

A Good Soldier

She hates it. Hates it with a passion because Jason was so much more than a soldier. He was her Jay, her brother, everything; all she has left of him is a small paperback and this disgusting mockery of his memory.

But he’s Batman, and he grabs her by the arms and pins her, even as her legs kick out viciously. She headbutts him and manages to push him off, nailing him square in the jaw with her knee as she flips back.

“Cassandra-.” Batman starts.

“Mine,” She snarls, eyes blazing and her hand pushing Bruce away from her. Even with the pads of his armour, she knows it hurts. She turns to leave.

“Not Robin. My Jay. My Brother. My Jason.”

Standing in Jason’s room, Cassandra closes the window he left open. She notices a picture frame on his nightstand. It’s of them, Huckleberry Finn spread between their legs and their foreheads pressed together.

Cass curls into a ball and clutches his treasures to her chest, sobbing because there is no rain to fill the vacuum she’s found herself in.

--

Far, far away, a man between worlds shatters the dimensions. The ripple disturbs Gotham, but she cannot deny her love of the results.

Gotham watches as her prodigal son begins his dramatic return; rising from below to walk above once again.

--

“So, is it really true that you took down Troia when you were only thirteen? All on your own?” The new Robin, Tim, is okay. Really. Cassandra just can’t look him at and see someone else in the uniform. When she doesn’t answer, the boy seems to fidget nervously. She doesn’t even know what his eyes look like.

“I–I guess, since I’m here to be Batman’s new Robin, I was hoping I could be the Robin to –.”

Cassandra doesn’t even let the boy finish before she leaves.

--

Jason wakes up drowning. It’s not water that enters his lungs, but an unnatural, sickly green liquid that vexes and rots and makes his body feel like he’s on fire. Nandra Parbat is where he is when he’s calmed down from being dipped into the Lazarus Pit, trapped in a fortress of assassins that want to mould a Bat into one of them. It’s an entirely different League.

This time, Cass is not here to keep them away.

--

When she meets Steph, Cassandra is enamoured because the girl smiles and laughs (except she still isn’t the same, no one is), almost just like Jason. But there are slight differences between the girl and her brother. Her hugs are great, but they don’t feel right. She smells like lavender instead of the rain. Despite how much the girl likes to joke with her, not one of them manages to draw out her smile.

Cassandra holds onto the girl like a lifeline anyway.

What bone she can throw, Steph has an uncanny knack of finding things that others take ages to locate, which is helpful enough for right now since Tim is still missing. It doesn’t help when Steph reads that Tim is in a warehouse with none other than The Joker.

--

He’s practising his aim when she comes in, almost plucking the gun out of his hand. Jason grips the girl’s arm and flings her over his back. Rose Wilson, a wolfish grin plastered on her face and snowy hair fanning under them, doesn’t even look fazed.

“Wow Jace, if you wanted to pin me you could have just asked,” His only friend in this place is what keeps him sane; when the Joker of his nightmares haunts the edges of his mind, she is there to let him know it isn’t real. Despite how different they are, she’s a breath of fresh air in this hellhole they’re in. He should probably tell her how he feels.

“You’re such a fucking chicken-shit,” Is what comes out of his mouth instead. Rose only smirks at him, silver mane and eyes with almost the same mischief his sister had.

“Your aim still sucks balls by the way.”

He growls, raising his arm to let his gun do the barking.

--

Ranting and raving greet her as she sneaks in through a window, a litany of nonsense and stammers echoing around the warehouse. She drops from the catwalk as silently as she can, but the madman obviously still hears her as his head bends at an impossible angle to look right at her.

“Oh. Look who showed for quality time with Uncle Jay!” She doesn’t mean to, but Cassandra flinches, and the Joker’s twisted grin shifts. Big mistake. “Oh? Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” It takes every inch of willpower in her not to rasp the words, but Joker sees through it regardless.

“What? Don’t like my name?” The Joker pouts, but it looks more like a sneer. “It’s just me yaknow? Your Uncle Jay.”

Another flinch, and the Joker steps closer, a snake in the reeds.

“Mister Jay,” He’s stalking closer now; her body won’t move. “JayJay.”

“Jaybird,”

“Jay,” She is so still as the Joker seems to tower over her, his sick grin crueller and sharper (David flashes in her mind) than any other time she has ever seen it. Poison flows from his mouth like saliva as he croons.

“That’s what you called him, isn’t it? When he was still here, your precious Robin. Not this -,” He gestures to Tim, who is wide-eyed and struggling. “-phoney replacement. Want me to-? Let me tell-.” The Joker stops, frowning at the ground before continuing, his voice aberrantly low. “When I beat him over and over with that crowbar – pink with blood and brown with dirt over the white of his skin –, do you want to know what he was saying?

“The only thing that came out of that pretty little mouth of his was how sorry he was that he was for leaving ‘Cass’ behind.” The madman leers at her. “Was that you? Cass? I gotta tell you, the whole apology shtick got really boring after a while, but…

“I’ll tell you one thing. Something you can keep between just you and your Uncle Jay,” He leans in close to her ear. “I think that our Jay is almost just like me now!”

The madman cackles, his eyes sick and twisted, and his body is nothing but mania. Something in Cassandra, strained and twisted for the past three years, finally snaps.

She strikes him, harsher than she’s struck anyone ever before. So severely, she can feel his ribcage snap. His flesh becomes mince under her fists. He stumbles and contorts as she overwhelms him with every piece of her fury. The gale-force that is Cassandra Todd blows through the Joker, who laughs and laughs and laughs.

The monster scrambles for his gun, suddenly slick and focused. Cassandra snaps off the comic ‘Pow!’ that sticks out of the muzzle when he fires it at her. She backhands his face with the full force of her knuckles, knocking him down, and all he does is chortle. The Joker’s body twists and squirms as he is pinned in place. She raises the broken end of the comic and skewers his leg into the ground.

The Joker’s mouth froths. His eyes are bloodshot as he becomes more depraved and maunders yet, he’s still fucking laughing. Laughing as his spittle flecks onto every surface around them when he thrashes. Laughing even as she clenches the sides of his head and pulls. Laughing even as they both feel his flesh strain and shear as she tries to tear it off. The part of her that has so vehemently denied killing now cries for bloodlust. For this is justice, this is vengeance, this is for her, Jay. Cassandra, with all her might, prepares to wrench off the monster’s head and-.

And Batman pushes her off him. Batman blocks her assault on his body when Cassandra rebalances herself. Batman protects the god damn fucking Joker. She roars with her rage, her grief, and doesn’t even feel the sedative that Tim plunges into her side until it’s too late.

Glaring at Bruce, at Batman, all she sees from his body is fear and concern and all the latter is directed at the death-worshipping monster he cradles in his arms. Absently, before it all goes to black, she thinks she should leave. Leave without Batgirl, without Jason, without everything she has ever cared for.

She does, and like her brother, the tears of Gotham are the only family she has left.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[starshipsofstarlord]

Can you do part 2 of chandelier?

Chandelier

This is part to to this imagine, find it here

Pairing | dark!Wanda Maximoff x reader

Summary | the suburban life that you have been locked in soon takes a turn whence another being, with radiating power is revealed to be causing such destruction. Perhaps Wanda isn’t the bad guy, or at least, not the worst villain that has you under their thumb. Witches, and their possessiveness!

Warnings | mentions of death, violence, witches, magic, imprisonment, angst, spoilers for Wandavision. I fixed the Ralph Bohner plot because I could

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Time had surpassed, and continuing to live under the restrictions of Wanda hadn’t been so bad. She was your wife, the Maximoff that owned your heart, a red beam of scarlet that floated around in the depths of your head. Her influence left a pressure inside of you, a mark and a reminder to her that you belonged to her.

One thing that you knew for certain, was that you needed to escape these red restrictions, and break free of this place that you were forced to call home. It was tough to slip from the penetrating gaze of the possessive redhead, but to your luck, your nosey neighbour had decided, on this fine evening, to walking into the kitchen, and stir up some gossip with your partner.

Agnes, as she went by. It always seemed like she wanted to be away from that husband Ralph of hers, but you couldn’t blame her, you wanted nothing more than to escape the possessiveness of your wife. She was no longer the same woman that you had met, she was crafted by loss, that tormented her into being a captive. Using the excuse of protecting you to her advantage, claiming that you would not appreciate what lay on the outside of Westview.

Party girls don't get hurt

Can't feel anything, when will I learn?

I push it down, push it down

I'm the one "for a good time call"

But you couldn’t help but feel completed as you reached the borders of the town. It was surreal, you felt ecstatic to leave this little prison, that was in deep disguise to convince all residents that their home was real, and not all an illusion painted by a certain redhead. She saw you as a new canvas, which she kept overlapping with white paint to make blank for another piece of mindful artwork.

Turning once more, to ensure that the woman of your nightmares hadn’t decided to appear behind you, within a second, you lurched forward, pushing your body through her borders, feeling each atom in your atom tug apart and put itself back together, as you fought with just your own body to break through the access and exit point of her false reality.

That’s all this was, an illusion, masked in amounts of power that could possibly kill you. But death by attempted escape was better than remaining here, in this vast plain, that was all meant to occupy the mind, fooling it into thinking that this was a normal life. Instead, you knew how absurd it was, there were tweaks every now and then, until you were transferred into a different time.

Right now, you were in the 2000s, but you needed to get back to 2023, the real time line, the universe outside of these red orbits that stood strong, and pained your skin, pushing a power that you did not know that you could feel beneath your flesh, making your body burn from your withdrawal from its sharp contents.

Phone's blowin' up, ringin' my doorbell

I feel the love, feel the love

One, two, three, one, two, three, drink

One, two, three, one, two, three, drink

One, two, three, one, two, three, drink

One. Two. Three. A yell bellowed from your throat as you fell out to the other side, collapsing on the ground, as your fingertips dug into the surface below. For a moment you frowned, before you glanced behind you, seeing the grand gesture of magic in its place, and you out of your own. You picked dirt up with your hands, it felt real, not like molecules that had been wedged together to create the appearance of such a natural substance.

The sound of footsteps had you rolling over, preparing to attack whomever had decided to disturb your peace, crouching on your knees as you glared up. It was a woman, one that you vaguely remembered, before your ever so loving wife had informed you that she had moved away, something about her mother not feeling well. All though, that may have been an illusion too, for all you were aware.

Nobody escaped Westview, until you. There was no route out, you were sure the chase wasn’t over, Wanda would come after you, numbing your mind with her tugging hands, that swirled with her red essence. The woman emitted grave power, and you far well knew that she would use it for when the time came. She would make you her prisoner once more, a dull and empty shell that would be ordered to do nothing more than return her affections with a plastered smile.

“Geraldine?” You asked nervously, realising that the woman appeared far different than the version of her within the Hex. She had portrayed nothing more than a fine friend to the deluded woman, supporting her magic show and coming over for tea in the morning, until she mentioned... Sokovia. Sokovia, her home, that had fallen against the battle with Ultron! You remembered!

Throw 'em back 'til I lose count

I'm gonna swing from the chandelier

From the chandelier

I'm gonna live like tomorrow doesn't exist

Like it doesn't exist

“Geraldine doesn’t exist.” She smiled softly, holding out a hand so that she could assist you to your feet. With sly eyes, you took it, untrusting of anyone at the moment. “My name is Monica, I have the intent of stopping your wife, she’s dangerous. She’s expanding these borders, and soon, I have no doubt that she will eat up the whole world, turning it into her playground.”

Playgrounds. They had been another thing that you noticed specked around the town, though there never seemed to be any children to play in them. That gave you some relief, unless they were locked up, stowed away to be kept of the suburban life. Wanda didn’t want children anyway, she wanted you, her baby, her fine darling, her pet. You were nothing more than a decoration within her false realm, a means to keep a smile stretched upon her sinister face, and a stopper to her darting red eyes.

And thus you stood on your own feet, no scarlet shadow behind you, whispering thoughts that were not your own in through your ear. Gulping, you looked Monica up and down, nervously seeing if she were to fade into the air, as many things did when the times changed, as they converted into more modern alternatives. A part of you had wished that you would grow with the changes, become stronger, become a free woman.

“I am not her wife.” You admitted aloud, feeling a heavy weight roll off your chest. There, you had said it, and for the first time, you hoped that the redhead heard you, you could imagine her scowl right now. That, that would be something that was sure as hell real, and not a part of her sketch script, her sitcoms were curtains.

They could be opened or closed, but often of a night, were shut to keep the silhouettes of monsters out. She was the monster, hiding from herself and the reality that she had came from. Though, the woman could not accept that she was the villain here. The creator of the dialysis that was affecting the lives of many, but for what purpose.

I'm gonna fly like a bird through the night

Feel my tears as they dry

I'm gonna swing from the chandelier

From the chandelier

But I'm holding on for dear life

“We have to stop her.” Monica spoke, getting out of the vehicle, you following behind her, as she moved closer to the collateral red veil that reached high up into the sky. Sounds from Jimmy insisted that she remain, and that another way in could be found, but all of you knew that was a long shot. And there was no time to wait around, not as purple grates were seen through the crimson walls of her boundaries, bursting like fireworks against her protection system.

And thus, you, gulping down the sensations of fear prickling at your fingers, followed after Monica, whom walked through the moulded fire, stepping into the plain that digressed your body, pulling it as though it were trying to reform your genes, affecting your DNA. As you succumbed to the sensations, you felt a burst in your chest, an ignition of something greater deep inside you.

But unlike Wanda, you were not going to use it for your own sinful convenience, you were going to stop her. You gasped as you fell out the other side, your limbs feeling like they were aflame, askew with treacherous fire. Turning to Monica, you saw that her eyes had transformed into an ambient blue, piercing your soul.

Won't look down, won't open my eyes

Keep my glass full until morning light

'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight

Help me, I'm holding on for dear life

Won't look down, won't open my eyes

“Your skin.” She spiked, raising her hand to her own cheek as she looked upon you. It was separated into sections, adjoined by the bone, as neon orange kept it attached, like cracks that had yet to be partitioned. There was no time for idly finding a mirror to squalor through at your own appearance though, no. You had returned to this hell for one reason only, and that was put an end to all this consuming madness.

And so, the pair of you walked through the town, not having to go far until you saw the ongoing battle. Agnes, as you had known her, was in the sky, along with you alleged wife, purple robes floating from her body, her hair crazed and wild, much like her eyes. She was no friendly neighbour, she was a reaper coming out to play, throwing lilac bursts of power towards Wanda, whom returned the favour with her own red energy.

“How do we get to them?” Rambeau asked, frowning as she watched their exchange with worried irises. To answer her question, your body aligned itself to rise, transcending towards the two warriors, your eyes hot and fiery as they flared remarkably at the sight of the bewitched competition.

At your presence, Agnes smirked, and Wanda’s face paled, soaking in the sight of your skin glowing with your own source of power. “If it isn’t your wife, just on time to join us for the main course.” Your nose curled at the sound of her distorted voice, as your head raised itself, glaring upon the scene. “There’s something different about you, I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Keep my glass full until morning light

'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight, on for tonight

Sun is up, I'm a mess

Gotta get out now, gotta run from this

Here comes the shame, here comes the shame

To emphasise her point, she emitted a pulse of her magic towards you, it hitting deep in the pit of your chest. Though, it didn’t explode, or send you hurtling back, instead it grew brawlingly in your chest, brewing like a potion, and expanding every human structure that you could feel kept your skeleton upright.

As your head fall, and you remained in your place, Wanda frowned, head tilting as a crown appeared upon her forehead. She could not understand how you had changed so clearly. You were definitely not her wife, you were an image of her enemy, floating alongside her, standing for your cause. That was to end her, and this place she had formatted to become her home; your home.

When she had learnt of your betrayal, escaping whilst she was distracting by this opposer of hers, she had been filled with various emotions. Angry was one definition of how she had felt, but another had been determined. She was determined to get you back, and wash away all thoughts of ever leaving her again. But as she looked upon you, for some reason, she knew that her tricks wouldn’t work.

One, two, three, one, two, three, drink

One, two, three, one, two, three, drink

One, two, three, one, two, three, drink

Throw 'em back 'til I lose count

I'm gonna swing from the chandelier

“What are you?” She asked in that distressed accent of hers. What were you? It was unknown, or at least to your own knowledge, you were a vision, a bird set free, no longer trapped behind the bars of a cage. Wanda tried to thrust your to the side with her elegant will, but instead of obeying her technical whim, you tilted your head.

It came as a shock to you as well, having expected to be thrown around by her wishes, but instead, you remained, only absorbing her tainted force, your hair blowing from the sweeping of the stormy wind as you poised the two witches with your amber gaze, keeping your pupils locked on them, as a hurricane rounded through the air, grabbing every form of their power.

The walls of the Hex slowly faded, swirling in the air before coming on command towards you, roping around your limbs before sinking into your flesh, leaving Agatha with a studying from onto her trialed face. She was watching, rather than fighting with you, picking out the little details like she had done with Wanda.

From the chandelier

I'm gonna live like tomorrow doesn't exist

Like it doesn't exist

I'm gonna fly like a bird through the night

Feel my tears as they dry

She was the scarlet witch, the most powerful sorceress of all, but you indeed were something else. Monica squinted from below, as she saw a streak of blue oncoming towards her, his willpower transcending through her, as he crumbled mistakenly to the ground.

He was a fake, or was he. As he tripped, Monica caught sight of the flaring purple beads around his neck, and thus, she knelt upon his chest, as she looked at them. This Pietro was being controlled, and she assumed it was through the ancient jewellery, and so, she pulled it from around his neck, scattering the beads upon the street.

As the man looked up, he was astounded. There was a fiery bird igniting in the sky, its wingspan spreading far, as it reigned terror upon all. He was amazed to see the sight once more... she was supposed to be dead. She had sacrificed herself, turned into particles within the universe. But it seemed as though the winged creature, pardoned by great force lived on.

I'm gonna swing from the chandelier

From the chandelier

But I'm holding on for dear life

Won't look down, won't open my eyes

Keep my glass full until morning light

'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight

Help me, I'm holding on for dear life

“Jean?” He whispered to himself, with a frown, his hand covering his mouth as he thought of his old friend that had facaded into meandering smithereens. Monica sighed at the man, walking closer, as she crossed her arms, looking down upon where he had crashed, and was laying upon the ground.

“Ralph Bohner?” She asked, watching as the stranger frowned at the title that she assumed of hun. With speed, he assisted himself up, brushing his hands on his legs, as he kept blinking up at the apocalyptic sky.

“No, I feel sorry for a dude with that name.” He lightly chuckled, finding the boner joke rather hilarious. “Peter Maximoff is the name, my fine lady.” She shook her head at his efforts but... Maximoff? What about Pietro?

Won't look down, won't open my eyes

Keep my glass full until morning light

'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight

On for tonight, on for tonight

“She’s the dark Phoenix.” Agatha gulped, her face contorting into one of fear and worry as she looked on at the way your arms spread like an eagle, igniting with their flame like aura. She had heard ancient stories, but they were not from this time. And here you were, facing off against her and the scarlet witch.

They had no chance against you, but Wanda did not know that, and as she readied to face off with you, she found herself being pushed to the ground, by nothing more than your stern gaze. Agatha too was pulled in by your sway, as you forced both to descend, and be grounded.

With a curve of your neck, they found themselves trapped against telephone lines, lines of their own magic pulling at them like strands. They were tied up, like the witches of old, powerless to those that stalked them.

'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight

Oh, I'm just holding on for tonight

On for tonight, on for tonight

'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight

All of a sudden, Wanda felt overcome with regret, as she was put in this position. She tried to escape, but Agnes as she had called herself priorly shook her head at the silly girl, understanding that this was the end.

“We are no match for her Wanda. She is not a witch, she is being far more powerful. Fall to her mercy, or you will receive the brunt of it.” Westview had fallen, and thus, Wanda realised that by taking you, you had taken everything right back from her, reciprocating the notion that she had described to be love.

She held on, wanting the night to be over, as she saw Monica, the woman that had tried to help her, behind you. And the man that had posed as her biological brother. There was no hope left for her, no saving her. In the end, she had became the villain. Her and Agatha were not so different after all.

'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight

Oh, I'm just holding on for tonight

On for tonight, on for tonight

[curly-bangtan]

Heatwave Drabble #3: sucker for u

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles]

^ you’ll have to have read those to understand the relationship!!

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: As your roommate/fuck buddy/friends with benefits, Taehyung knows he doesn’t have any right to get jealous or possessive when you sleep with other people. But that won’t stop him from being competitive about who can pleasure you better.

Genre: drabble, smut, bit of angst?, fwb au, roommate au

Warnings: boobs worshipping, lots of titty sucking, protected sex woohoo, jealous!Taehyung who doesn’t know that he’s jealous!, classic bratty annoying abrasive behaviour from oc, praise kink (Tae just wants you to tell him he’s the best boy), semi-angry sex?

Word count: 4.9k

A/N: Specifically requested by @mytaetaey :) I hope this was wanted!! Sorry for how annoying they both are -_- The next drabble will contain more plot!!

.

“Oooaah- fuck. Yes, just like that.” Your head sinks into the pillow, eyes rolling back at the obscene way he’s sucking your nipples. But then you quickly look back down at him again, not wanting to miss the chance of embedding this sight into your memory.

One of his hands is cupped under the breast he’s lapping up, the other rubbing your clit the vigorous way that you had taught him. Shit, he’s a fast learner.

“Keep going, Eunwoo.” You push his hair back to reveal his glistening forehead, fingers entangled in his black locks, remaining there. He glances up at you in those big round eyes of his, your nipple trapped between his teeth, and that old friend you like to call fanny flutters come rushing down to your core.

Eunwoo is a quiet shy boy in your university course, always sitting two rows from the front, diligently jotting down impeccable notes in lectures. He’s tall, he’s handsome, and he’s got a body that has every girl (or boy) in your class drooling over. He’s also somehow, by the miracle of god, a virgin. Well, soon not anymore. When you got assigned at partners for this assessed presentation you’re doing, you threw your fist in the air and did a celebratory yodel, because not only is he going to guarantee you a good grade, you also know you finally have the chance to seduce him. Taehyung had high fived you, but then also got kind of annoyed when you wouldn’t stop showing him Eunwoo’s instagram.

There has always been a tacit sexual tension between you two; you would glance at each other in class more than the ordinary, acknowledge each other’s existence yet never making the first step to speaking. When you had invited him over to yours to work on this project, there was a mutually known implication of what this would lead to.

And now he’s on your bed, allowing you to teach him how to pleasure a woman. Some people tend to avoid inexperienced boys, yet you see this as a perfect opportunity to mould them into sex gods. Eunwoo is exploding with potential, so pliable, obedient, eager to please you.

He is a great kisser, which increases the mystery of why and how he could still be a virgin. First, you had taught him about getting a girl wet, teasing her erogenous zones such as her ears, neck, hip. Kissing during foreplay is more than just about the lips, it’s about drawing the person deeper into you, hinting to them what is to come if things are taken to the next stage. Then comes making her wet, grinding into her, rubbing her panties, massaging her breasts.

You soon learnt that Eunwoo is a boob guy. Taehyung is an ass guy, so it took you by surprise when he fixated on sucking your breasts even as you guided him to finger your clit. It fits so well with his innocent-boy image; when you see him latched onto your nipple like this, it almost reminds you of an infantile scene. But no, let’s not go there, you do not have a mommy kink. That’s gross, your power complex is not as overboard as Taehyung’s to require someone to refer to you as their parent.

“Do you like that?” He releases your swollen bud for air, yet fingers don’t slow their pumping. It’s a genuine question, unlike the taunting of Taehyung when he tries to coax praise from you.

“Yes, you’re learning so quickly.” You pinch his chin between your fingers, watching the shyest smile spread across his lips at your reply.

God, he’s a cute thing.

.

There’s loud music coming from your room. Sexy music. Taehyung smiles to himself as he kicks off his shoes at the front door and swings his bag onto the couch.

As he pads closer to your room, his attention falls to a faint moaning that doesn’t take him half a second to recognise; he knows your moans when he hears it. Are you… masturbating? It’s not unusual for either one of you to go solo and get yourselves off every now and then. After all, self care is important. But it’s an infrequent occurrence, even for Taehyung who used to wank five times a day on average at the age of 13. He much prefers your mouth nowadays.

The thought of you touching yourself, too impatient for him to get home is really hot though.

Your door is slightly open, sound echoing towards him, beckoning him to follow. It isn’t until he is peering through the gap that he registers there are two sets of breathing coming from inside, the other very distinctly male.

From the door, Taehyung sees you sprawled out on your back, breasts being devoured by a black haired boy who’s running his condom-clad dick up your slit. “Yeah, like that, tease it.” You sigh into your pillow. Your fingers grip onto his dark tufts as your eyes shut in pleasure, a scene that both arouses Taehyung and makes him frown.

Why is this boy sucking your tits so much? If it were Taehyung, he would flip you over, tie your wrists up, spank your red, and tease your clit with his tongue and tip until you’re begging for him to drive his cock into you.

This boy looks like a baby suckling at his mother’s breast. It’s weird. Taehyung almost yells for him to stop.

Your eyes open and lock with his, widening a fraction at his sudden presence outside your room. Taehyung feels embarrassed, worse than being caught watching porn by his dad, because here, you’re his porn. But your face remains passive, nonchalant. You smile and do a quick wave at him in greeting.

Have you two really demolished any boundaries between each other that you’re not even fazed that he is witnessing you about to be fucked?

Taehyung waves back, but doesn’t smile. He’s never been able to force a smile. This boy is annoying him, he’s doing it all wrong.

You motion for your roommate to close the door for you, all the while praising the boy, “Fuck, you’re doing well, Eunwoo.”

Oh, so this is Eunwoo, your partner for this project assignment. How disappointing.

Taehyung reaches to shut the door as you requested, since it’s really none of his business, yet he finds his grip on the knob tightening as he’s unable to look away from the two of you. Eunwoo is being too docile, vanilla, he doesn’t even know what the fuck he’s doing! He is trying to push his member into your wet entrance, but it slips. The secondhand embarrassment hits Taehyung in the face. This guy is a fumbling mess, how could you stand him?

He glances down at his own bulge, then back at Eunwoo’s length, smirking knowing that he has an inch on him at least.

And so Taehyung takes it upon himself to swing the door wide open, announcing his presence as he storms in with overconfidence.

Eunwoo curses and scrambles to throw the covers over the both of you. “What the fuck!”

“Taehyung!” You shriek, eyes frantically searching his for a reason for his interruption.

“Get out.” Taehyung and Eunwoo say to each other at the same time, then freezing at each other’s audacity to do so.

“You get out, dude, what the fuck?” Eunwoo sits up beside you, straightening against Taehyung’s tall standing frame that towers over the bed. This kid has some nerve.

“You get out. I live here.”

“No, you get out. Can’t you see that we're in the middle of something?”

“No, you get out. Why are your clothes off when you’re meant to be doing a project? That’s inappropriate behaviour.”

“No, you-”

“Shut up, the both of you!” You yell over their arguing. They both cease their mouths immediately and turn to you, slightly scared like kindergarten boys being told off. Your eyes are burning holes into your roommate. “Taehyung, what are you doing?”

“Breathing. Blinking. Standing. Talking.”

You’re going to fucking kill him, you swear to god. He’s got that look on his face when he knows he’s being purposely difficult, jaws clenched, chin tilted an angle upwards. There’s a spark in his eyes that are still targeted at Eunwoo, as if he’s assessing the boy head to toe, challenging him.

Having known your best friend for this long, you know he won’t back down. So you sigh, turn to poor Eunwoo, “I’m so sorry about this. It’s probably best for you to leave, I’ll deal with him.”

There’s a flash of hurt in his eyes, but it was either going to be Eunwoo or Taehyung you’d offend, and you’d much rather it be him. “Okay.”

“I’ll text you.” You watch him gather his clothes from the floor, awkward hand over his crotch. In your periphery you see Taehyung tense at your words, his attention still unyieldingly fixed on the guy. Why is he like this? Why? Aren’t guys meant to be weirded out by the sight of each other’s dicks? Why is Taehyung still staring him down like that as if he were your guard dog?

Neither of you say anything more until the front door of your place falls shut at Eunwoo’s departure. After throwing a large shirt over your nudity, you pin Taehyung with a hard angry glare.

Defiant as he currently is, he glares back as if he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Well?” You demand. “What shit are you pulling?”

Taehyung doesn’t move from where he stands at the end of your bed. Out of habit, your eyes flicker to his bulge, and though it isn’t fully hard, there is a slight prominence. “I was saving you from that amateur, you’re welcome.”

You scoff. “Ama- Ha! Taehyung, oh my god. Not this again.” Running your hands through your hair, you stand up on the mattress so your height now exceeds his. You don’t miss the way his focus momentarily falls to the edge of your top that hangs just enough to cover your ass, eyes running down your legs then back up to your face. “Yes, he was a virgin, but I’ve said this before. I like it when they’re like that!”

“What is there to like about a virg? He would have lasted 2 minutes, maybe even less.” Taehyung huffs in exasperation, unable to apprehend your preference.

“I like teaching them what to do when they’re inexperienced. I like it when they do exactly what I tell them to do, in precisely the way I want. You know that I like being in control too. You can’t just assume I wasn’t enjoying myself because you thought he didn’t know what he was doing. I was teaching him!” It endlessly frustrates you how Taehyung imposes his own mindset onto you. He thinks that just because he likes to be dominant during sex, it means that you always like to be dominated and that anyone who a tad less alpha than him isn’t doing it right. Does it ever cross his mind that it isn’t the only way to pleasure you?

“Yeah right, you were enjoying yourself. Tell that to me again when he blows his load before he even puts it in.” The jeering in his voice is winding you up. About anything else, he is never this bitchy; yet when it comes you your sexual partners, it’s like he’s your mother picking a husband for you.

“First, you’re not in a position to make fun of anyone ‘blowing their load before putting it in’.” A faint blush creeps beneath his honey skin at the memory he wishes to bury. “Second of all, I was enjoying myself. A lot. You’re not the only guy who can satisfy me you know?” Your volume is rising along with your temper, you know you should rein it in, keep it in check because you despise fighting with Taehyung. You rarely properly argue about anything serious; it’s always you getting annoyed at him but ten minutes later succumbing to his grovelling puppy eyes. This time, you don’t want to forgive him right away - he needs to know that this behaviour needs to stop.

“Okay fine, but I am the guy who satisfies you best.” Taehyung places his hands on his hips stubbornly, gazing up at you as he takes a stride closer to the bed.

Yup, so this is definitely about his pride. Like you, Taehyung is competitive even if he doesn’t wish to admit it. He likes to be the best, the favourite, have his ego stroked through praises and constant affirmation.

“How are you so sure about that?” You ask just to tug on his nerve.

He frowns at you, frozen for a moment, the clockwork in his mind slowly ticking as he tries to grasp what you are saying. “What do you mean…”

“I mean, how are you so sure that you’re the best sex I’ve ever had?” Fighting a sly smile, you raise your brow tauntingly at him. If he loves to push your buttons, why don’t you push his?

“W-Well- What do you mean!? Are you saying that I’m not?” Shocked, Taehyung’s mouth forms a pouted upside-down ‘D’. The insecurity flooding his face drops an inkling of guilt amidst your torment, but not enough to make you feel bad. But ha! How full of himself must he be to have been so certain in his abilities. For all he knows, you could have been faking your orgasms all along.

“I’m just saying,” you step in front of him until he’s arm’s length away, and you take his soft cheeks between your fingers, “that the way Eunwoo was playing with my nipples made me feel things that I haven’t felt before.”

You want to take it back the moment you say it, because you immediately realise what this is going to entail. Taehyung doesn’t back down from a challenge like this.

Wordlessly, he yanks you towards him and hoists you up from your rear. Your legs lock around his waist instinctively to prevent yourself from falling just as your arms fly around his neck, nose hitting the top of his head hard enough for you to yelp. His face is buried in the cushion of your chest as he carries you, scuttling on his knees, up the bed.

He falls on top of you, and it feels like his weight has broken three of your ribs and crushed half a lung. “What are you doing!?” You know what he is doing, or about to do.

For a drawn out pause, he stares intently into you, a carnal glint in his dark pupils. Gone is the bratty whiny childish Taehyung. In his place is a dangerous territorial animal who will fight to prove that he’s king of the jungle. “You did not just say that.” Face inches apart, you feel the fumes of his irritation radiate from him, his eyes boring an assertiveness into yours. His jaw is clenched, and despite this moment, you want to run your finger along its sharp edge. Your legs gradually slide down his back and fall into an open formation, and you’re keenly aware of the position of his groin so conveniently pressed into yours.

Why is he hard? Why is he hard? He isn’t supposed to be hard when you’re arguing.

And why does his stiffness make your clit twitch in anticipation?

“You made me hit my nose!” You try to avert both your attention to something else. Something that’s not the precariousness of the sexual tension in the air. You aren’t meant to fuck Taehyung today, goddammit. It was meant to be Eunwoo.

“You deserved it.” He grumbles, but kisses the tip of your nose nonetheless. “You’re going to regret saying that…” Frustration audible in his breath, Taehyung traces his lips to the corner of your own, a spot where he knows sends a tingle straight to your core.

“Saying what? That Eunwoo is the best at worshipping my tits?” Someone should really gag you before you keep running your mouth and do some actual damage to Taehyung’s ego. But you’re really fucking salty that Taehyung had just deprived you of some potentially amazing sex with the hottest nerd in your class because his competitiveness got in the way.

Silence.

And it is when Taehyung is completely still and quiet that you know you should be slightly afraid.

“Worshipping?” He lifts up from your face to reveal his blazing glare. “You want worshipping?” His fingers underneath your thighs rake on your skin, claws digging into you. “Fine, I’ll show you worshipping.”

That’s not a suggestion, it’s a promise.

Peeling up your shirt, to expose your front to the cold, you watch him slightly stunned as his eyes roam across your body lewdly. Your core twists and ties at the pure venery in his expression, hungry and desperate to prove himself to you.

A small noise leaves you involuntarily when he takes your breast in his mouth without warning, fingers darting seductively down your abdomen, arriving at your bare awaiting folds. His teeth scrape against the tender skin as he nips on the supply flesh around your nipple while his free hand cups under your other breast. When the rough pad of his tongue laps at your bud at the same time as his thumb rubbing on your clit, your whole body convulses under him.

“Fuck.” You curse, peering down at him to see satisfaction in his eyes that are fixed at yours to watch your reaction. Taehyung likes boobs as much as the next guy, but his focus is usually predominantly your ass and pussy. This much attention channelled to your boobs is a rarity from him.

There’s a very distinct difference in the pleasure one receives from the stimulation of nipples. It’s almost like welcoming the cold, as your body braces at the assail on those highly sensitive bundle of nerves concentrated at one point. It tickles in a way that makes the back of your scalp tingle and your toes curl. Your eyes threaten to shut from the overwhelming arousal, but you force them open, force yourself not to break eye contact with Taehyung.

Because there’s something so intimate about eye contact during any sexual act, as if your souls are reaching into each other and locking hands. And refusing to letting go.

Your fingers as usual find their way to his messy mane, gripping on his wavy tresses while his tongue mercilessly grazes your bud, not to mention his fingers now slowly sliding into you. You’re wet, embarrassingly wet, residual from Eunwoo but also from Taehyung’s display of need to impress you.

Then his mouth leaves your nipple, allowing a gush of cool air to prickle your goosebumped skin. “Do you like that?” Your memory flickers to the exact same words tumbling out of Eunwoo, yet this time impacts you so differently, so much more forcefully. Fuck, you hate that Taehyung’s right.

“Yeah…” You whisper. The smug smirk you’ve come to know so well reveals itself. “Take off your clothes, Taehyung.”

You can’t put your finger on it, but Taehyung doing anything to you as a different effect from anyone else. Even as he removes his shirt, your heart can’t help but quicken at how hot he unintentionally makes such a mundane gesture look. Maybe it’s because he’s your best friend, but it feels less superficial, rather, it touches a more profound depth in your core.

Twisting back, you pull out your drawer and take out a condom. Taehyung, naked on his knees, watches as your roll it onto his swollen throbbing cock, an action you’re so familiar with that you could do it in pitch dark. He always makes you put it on him, ‘it feels so much better’ apparently. And even having fucked so many times before, the sight of how hard you made him causes your cunt to weep.

After resuming the missionary position you were in, you expect him to pound into you without warning, he loves a surprise entrance after all. Except he returns to your tits and plant big wet kisses on your smooth softness. “See? I can worship your boobs if you want me to. So who’s better, me or him?”

And just because you haven’t had enough of teasing him, as well as getting teased, you say, “Him.”

Taehyung’s kissing ceases. And another one of those still scary silences follows. Then he angrily takes the flesh of your breast in his mouth and start sucking rosy colours, both hands groping you this time.

It’s an unspoken rule that you never leave hickeys on each other. Because why would you? You’re only casually fucking, there’s no ownership whatsoever. Plus how are either of you supposed to sleep with anyone else if there’s a blaring red splodge on your neck?

But this time, he’s marking you.

“Taehyung, what are you doing?!”

He releases your breast and assesses his piece of art. You glimpse down too, to find a crimson cloud pigmented beside your nipple. Oh for fuck’s sake. “Tell me I’m better.”

“You’re not-” Eyes wolfish, he dives back in to bite another fresh mark near the first. His fingers walk down your torso and tease open your folds, smearing your dampness all over your clit before pushing his digits up into your mouth. You suck, lapping up your own taste.

“Only I can make you this wet. Admit it.” There are now two bruises on your breast, but rather than getting vexed by his display of territorialism, it makes your cunt flutter.

“Since when was your ego so fragile.” You taunt, taking his rubbered dick into your grip and guiding him towards your slit.

“It isn’t,” he refutes, sighing as you swirl his tip around your clit, “I just want you to be honest with yourself and admit that no one makes you feel better than I do.”

“You’re actually- argmph-” You make a sound of pleasure as we eases into you slowly, his body tensing at your warmth embracing his cock. “So full of yourself.”

Well, to be factually accurate, you’re so full of him this very second.

Taehyung glances down at his length buried inside you, but you tilt his face to look at you. Eye contact. When he starts to move his hips back and forth, you see the hunger in his eyes, the hunger for you and only you. Amongst all things, you truly enjoy watching his features screw in pleasure as he pounds into you like a rabid animal. You feel powerful, content.

“Fu-uck. And. You’re. In. Denial. Baby.” He pants out each word at every thrust. The name drives you wild, you don’t know what it is, but it always makes your walls clench.

Lowering his frame, Taehyung rests his forehead on yours, his thumb gliding into your mouth for you to suckle on. You hum at the punching pressure in your core, entangling your innards.

And because you feel nice, mostly due to his covetous desperation, you whimper, “Fine. You fuck- me- so well.”

At your final admission, Taehyung’s eyes light up like a forest fire, pace quickening instantly as if energise by your words. The purity of his boyish victorious smile paints an ironic juxtaposing scene. “What else?” He urges.

What else? Good god, this man is drinking up the praise like wine.

“No one makes me feel as good as you do.” You huff, grabbing onto the back of his hair, your warm breaths mingling between your mouths. He shuts his eyes to bask in the praise, so you continue. “No one makes me cum even remotely like you do. No one makes me squirt except you.”

“Fuck…” His brows pinch, concentrating in the ecstatic friction of your cunt around him. He begins to twiddle your nipples between his finger; your neck immediately gives in and rolls back as he crudely pinches the buds of sensitivity, an uncontrollable tremor unearthing in your thighs.

“No one compares to your cock, the way you fuck me until I cry.” Taehyung moans as you keep lauding him. This initially was meant to mock him, except you find that everything you’re saying rings completely true.

“Yeah? You like it when I fuck you until you cry?” His hand closes around your throat, the other still toying with your nipple so sadistically. At the restriction of air, you feel your eyes water, vision obstructed by the emerging tears.

Fuck Kim Taehyung for how good he fucks you.

It’s impressive how his stamina has not dwindled one bit, but rather the speed and force at which he is ramming is even increasing. The pressure behind your walls are making you insane now, you feel the looming of your inevitable release, inching closer bit by bit. “Aaooh. Daddy, keep going. Your cock feels so good.” You feel like a pornstar with what you’re saying, but at least no one else can make you feel like a pornstar except Taehyung. The word daddy escaped so easily from your lips that you want to kick yourself. Why are you such a docile creature these days?

But then he plunges into you particularly hard and you remember why.

“I’m gonna come.” You cry, literally cry, as a tear of extreme exhilaration rolls out. “You’re gonna make me come.”

“Baby-” He sighs onto your cheek, grabbing your marked breast while he chases his climax.

And then it hits you both, one after another, the explosion of pleasure inside your cunt, swimming up your entire body like a ripple. Matched with the stimulation of your nipple, you cry out as you feel yourself twisting under your skin, unravelling. A throaty groan erupts from his throat as he spurts out his high, mouth clamping down onto your breast a second later. The vibrations of his exhale penetrate into your chest; your ears strain to hear a high-pitched whimper of bliss hidden by his baritone.

The couple of minutes after orgasming is always a blur to you. You always need a moment to piece your shattered mind and body back together. Taehyung is panting heavily beside you. He did all the work today, you’ll be sure to return the favour next time.

You realise that you didn’t kiss once throughout that whole intercourse. And for some reason, it kind of bothers you. You also realise that, in your post-orgasm haze, you’re wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face onto his shoulder, his coat of sweat cooling you.

Ew, what are you doing?

But before you can take back that action and roll away, he pulls you into him and nuzzles into your crown. Still naked, your breasts feel tender, thighs sore, as your damp skin stick to his.

After a silent minute to regain strength, he speaks. “That Eunwoo wouldn’t have been able to do that.” It’s a statement, but he makes it sound more like a question. Still, he’s seeking your affirmation. And you feel slightly bad about how insecure he is about this.

“He wouldn’t.” You soothe him, half your attention on the vibrant hickeys on your boob. Should you scold him? Hmm, you feel like you should, but you don’t. Post-sex Taehyung is too soft.

His long fingers are stroking your back - his classic aftercare, it makes your lids heavy. Taehyung almost always falls asleep after sex, while you never let yourself; sleeping together after sex feels too… intimate. At the end of the day, you’re just fuck buddies, there are boundaries.

“So you won’t fuck around with him again?”

Instantly you look up at him. Taehyung’s chocolate brown eyes are gazing tenderly at you, expectant, hoping for the answer he wishes to hear. You feel a kernel of annoyance. Taehyung doesn’t get to ask you not to sleep with a specific person, especially because you would never ask it of him. But you also know that arguing with him now would hurt him, like taking your dog to a dog park and feeding a treat to another puppy right in front of it. You don’t understand his fixation on this random boy all of a sudden, but you guess you’ll just have to let it slide.

You both are aware of this dangerous game you play, the thread-thin line you walk. It’s fickle. One wrong step, one fight and everything between you will fall apart.

So you just sigh and say, “Fine, I won’t. Happy? You’re the best boy. Happy?”

The twinkle in his eye followed by the babiest giggle threatens to nick your heart. His cheeks always rise like two loaves of bread when he does that genuine innocent smile like that. “Am very happy, yes. Because you don’t need to fuck him when you have me right here.”

Inexplicably, his words induces a weird feeling in your stomach. You can’t tell if it’s because you’re irritated by how clingy he is, or endeared.

Since this day, you uncharacteristically told Eunwoo that you should keep your relationship strictly as project partners, as much as it pained you to let go of such great potential. And since this day, Taehyung makes a point to never neglect your breasts again.

.

@taexxxiiaa @shookpreme @taetaeobsessed @tangledsparkles @nonexistentfucks @evilkookie @nbiased95 @taehyungmakesmeoof @itscalledgayhoney @tahaing @deliciouslydisturbed365 @expensive-bangtan-girl @jwlmnbt @herakimkim @dnyad @kaepjjang365 @expensive-bangtan-girl@gingerpeachtae @spring2787 @askingtheimportantthingshere @casualminiaturetimemachine @xblackclover13x @vasysauce @deadinsidebitch2412 @emiyooa @i-dont-even-know-fck @chimycthulhu @gixanjos @hisunshiine @xtaeyi @softjellyjimin @bluemooncnblue

[chilling-seavey]

hey, so this may be a hard to answer but i kinda didn't have anyone else to talk to about this:/. for a while, i have always been self conscious about my differences. i have been researching about autism lately and i've noticed that my "symptoms" are very similar to ones that i've researched. i just wanted to ask about how your story about it, if you're comfortable:) anyway yea i might just be overthinking it

Hey anon! Thanks for sharing! First off, take it from me first hand, there’s nothing you gotta be self conscious about! Easier said than done, I know, but our differences are what makes us unique and that’s not something to hide. 

I wasn’t diagnosed as autistic until I was 18. Autism in boys is often more prevalent so it’s easy for us girls to be overlooked and end up having to figure out ways to cope with symptoms etc themselves for sometimes our whole lives! I obviously don’t know if you’re a boy or a girl and even still, autism is such a wide spectrum that what I deal with may be completely different than what you are dealing with. In any sense, autism isn’t like another mental diagnosis and it is perfectly fair to self-diagnose without input of a professional if one wishes. Yet, at the same time, it can also tend to be like googling your illness symptoms and the website that pops up says ‘you have a mild headache? you’re dying’ when that isn’t necessarily true! Sometimes asking for some professional opinions on what you think might be symptom could be your best bet! But it’s personal preference too!

In my case? My whole life, I was more of the weird outsider girl. I often sat at recess alone with my stuffed animal (that I had since I was born and is still my comfort even know at nearly 21!) and my books and I wasn’t necessarily bullied but I was picked on a little in elementary school for being different. I wasn’t ‘cool’ and I was socially a ‘late-bloomer’ and never seemed to really keep up with the other kids. Honestly, I just thought I was shy.

Once I had to get a psychological test for university done at age 18, my therapist recommended that I do some advanced tests for ASD (autism-spectrum-disorder) and it was then that my results really opened my eyes that - holy crap everything made sense now. In particular, one of the tests I had to do was facial recognition where she showed me an image of a person making a facial expression and I had to tell her what emotion they were feeling. Another was listening to someone say a line and I had to repeat the tone of voice used to mimic their emotion. I scored so low on these tests. I never realized that this was something I struggled with and I soon learn its because of something called ‘masking’. 

Masking is super prominent in girls with autism because our symptoms may not be as strong or ‘typical’ as those in boys. It essentially is our mind’s way of reading our environment and forcing ourselves to play a part to ‘fit in’ whether it be through mimicking social cues or other things. It’s exhausting and most times you don’t even realize you’re doing it! 

One thing that I can joke about now that I am more comfortable with the familiarity of my diagnosis is what I call my ‘sensory sensitives’. (If you read my writing on here, Penelope in ABM has a few of these!). This is often common in autistic people where certain textures or sounds or other triggers can make you ‘freak out’ (for lack of a better word). I remember when I was little, if my bedsheets weren’t pulled perfectly tight and flat, I would have a bit of a meltdown until mum stripped my bed and remade it. Even now, more often than not, I have to strip my bed and remake it before getting back in if my sheets are too wrinkly. 

I could go on for ages talking about my own experiences and if you want to hear more I can share but the main idea to take from this are as follows:

1. Everyone is different. Everyone as in humans and everyone as in all autistics. So what I have expressed about my own experience here may be different from what you have been experiencing but that doesn’t mean one of us is more valid than the other or has a more ‘serious case’ than the other

2. Don’t go searching for something for the sake of searching. This has obviously been on your mind and it’s good that you can recognize this in yourself! If you are worried about a) what this means b) if it medically factual for yourself c) anything else, bring it up to a family member you trust or a councilor or doctor! Not everyone in your social circle is going to be accepting, especially if you are “high functioning” (I use that term loosely) because us in that category “don’t look autistic”. Just remember there’s no mould you need to fit in to be x y z and having a certain diagnosis or not doesn’t mean you are or aren’t any less of your own great self!

3. It’s not something to be scared about. It’s who you are! Autism is something you’re born with and, yes, it can be tiring for others and especially yourself, but it’s just a piece of your personality and you just have to find a way to work with it! Like if you have an allergy for instance, it’s annoying and can get in the way, but it’s just something you have and you need to take certain care through it! So don’t be too hard on yourself. It can be a weird time through possible acceptance and diagnosis (whether self or medical) and crying out your frustrations is certainly valid (I have plenty of times myself) but you aren’t broken and you aren’t scary and you have no reason to be self conscious over any differences you may have. Being social is freaking tiring to try and keep up with neurotypicals so just know your limits and be kind to yourself

I hope this helped if at all...I didn’t mean to write a whole ass novel in reply lol oops. But if you have any more questions or anything you can always shoot me a dm or another ask 🥰 I’m here for ya and I wish you luck in however you chose to progress with this!!