#well functioning buttons so it would seem but still works

[blmpff]

22.06.2023

[kookslastbutton]

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | ch. i

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, slight actor!taehyung x ceo!reader

genre/AU: angst, smut, loverstoexesto ?, unrequited love

word count: 3,328

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, mention of gossip columns and unequal treatment of how oc is portrayed post-divorce, hint of differences between men and women in the business world, oc struggling to be professional, both care about each other and are not toxic but oc fell in love, oc has the need to groom him a little out of habit, talks about Bam, feat, Namjoon and Taehyung, and sexual content

sexual warnings: dom!jungkook, sub!reader, desk s*x, d*rty talk, oc is on bc, handjob, swearing, making out, neck kisses, clothed s*x, impulsive s*x, light praising, growling, some minor petnames (baby, Kook), mention of threesome, recalling of past sexual events

playing: Unkiss Me

a/n: uh…this one has been in my drafts and idk its kinda angsty but I decided I will share it. Enjoy! 🥰

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From the moment he stepped into your office, Jungkook could tell every ounce of color was drained from your face. All except for your puffy red eyes that is, which he knows you've been rubbing fervently to keep your tears from rolling down your cheeks.

He doesn't blame you for it though–you're his ex-wife.

Recent ex-wife that is.

For three years the two of you masqueraded as the perfect power couple; appearing completely in love to the public eye in hopes of forming an unshakable business partnership (transaction more like). You attended charity balls together, collaborated on several work projects, and attended countless corporate functions to establish both your presence in your respective industries.

That's right, you and Jungkook were in an arranged marriage and it would have flourished into a classic love story if it wasn't for one obvious detail–you're the only one that fell in love.

Despite all the times he's called you "stunning" when you dolled up for formal events or that you "feel so good" during late-night sex, Jungkook never truly loved you. He cared about you, did his best not to intentionally hurt you, and even tried loving you back; thinking he could fall for you with time.

But the most he could ever see you as is a friend, a beautiful friend, though a friend nonetheless. He knows how much it pains you, especially after you've held out hope that he'll want you the same way someday. This one embarrasses you the most which he wishes it wouldn't.

Well, Jungkook doesn't want to trap either of you in a loveless marriage any longer. So even if it means being the center of gossip columns for a while, he's giving you a divorce so you can find the right person to share your love with.

After all, you deserve it; you both do.

Today's day one of looking at one another as exes and it's bittersweet, to say the least. The only factor that would make this worse is if children were in the equation, but there aren't any.

"Thanks for letting me swing by __," he speaks first, doing his best to conjure up a genuine smile. The black floral button-up he's wearing suits him well and his smooth chest peaking out near the collar is far too tempting, yet you know better than to let your eyes linger.

"Of course," you answer and grab a small box from behind your desk. "These are 100% yours so I wouldn't keep them from you." Jungkook takes the box of belongings from your hands with slight hesitation. You're keeping a brave front for the sake of civility and professionalism.

He doesn't blame you for that either.

As a CEO of a large multinational corporation himself, Jungkook's no stranger to the age-old philosophy that that office is no place to let your personal woes get out of hand; you have a team to lead and a reputation to uphold. The latter is proving to be harder for you than him, however, being that the media is portraying you as some kind of she-devil, spinster, or worse of all—a cheater.

Jungkook plans to personally make sure those articles get removed from the public eye before the end of the week. (Not that he'll tell you though.)

"I still could have dropped by the house to pick these up if it'd been easier. I feel bad for interrupting your work day over a couple of old books, records, and dog toys." He watches you nod silently as he vocalizes the inconvenience of it all; he really doesn't have to but he does it anyway.

"No, it's alright. You haven't been to the house since you moved out, so I thought it'd be better if we met here instead." You pause to check the time. "If there's anything you think of that you might've forgotten later, just let me know. In the meantime, I have a meeting in twenty so..."

"He misses you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Bam, I mean." Jungkook throws the box under an arm and pulls out his phone. He scrolls through his camera gallery until he gets to one particular photo of a red and tan Doberman. "He hates the new place and all he does is sulk by the door."

Your heart's already struggling to settle down from the painful reality that the man you love is leaving you, let alone being reminded of another forced separation. Bam's the closest thing to a baby that either of you ever had and he was one of the few things that bonded you and your now ex-husband together.

Being Jungkook's dog, however, he couldn't stay with you. That means no more visiting the dog park, sneaking treats behind Jungkook's back, and snuggling together in the king-size bed after a stressful day.

"I'm sure he just wants his favorite chew toy that's been held hostage at the house," you joke lightly, thinking it simpler to spin the topic. It's similar to what Jungkook does when he uses flowery language to soften the cold hard truth of your divorce; that he doesn't love you and he can't ever. "Give Bam a lot of attention for me. I miss him too."

"Of cour—shit!" When Jungkook moves to slip his phone back into his pocket he loses his balance, causing the box with his belongings to spill out on your office floor. Naturally, you kneel down to help him clean up the mess. It's not until your fingers reach for the same item and come into contact with each other that you quickly retract your hand. "Sorry, did I shock you?" He asks gently and tosses the last item into the box before standing up.

"No, you didn't." You rise to your feet as well, until you're face to face with him. This time it's closer than before. His hooded eyes stare straight into yours and you can't believe it takes being inches from his face to notice how bloodshot his eyes are. "You look exhausted. You should go home and rest Kook." The petname is out before your brain tells you to stop.

Jungkook's eyes widen, the corner of his lip subtly quirking up for the first time since the start of the conversation. "Don't worry about me __. I probably get more breaks than you do. But thanks." He briefly glances at the ticking Snoopy clock behind you, a Christmas gift he gave you as a joke last year. "You still have that?"

You look over your shoulder at the small, Snoopy-shaped digital clock on your desk. Ten minutes until your next meeting. "It's cute and it makes for a great conversation starter with clients so I guess so. If you want me to give it ba—"

"Keep it," he interrupts. "Please, it was a gift and I'd like you to have it if you enjoy it." Jungkook gnaws on his lip before continuing. "Speaking of clients and business partners, I should make myself scarce now shouldn't I?"

"Yes. I do have that meeting soon." But once he leaves, neither of you is sure when you'll see the other again aside from the odd charity event. The Annual Winter Gala in December is one that particularly comes to mind.

Most high-ranking executives like yourselves attend the function to keep up appearances and to network with other professionals. Last year, you and Jungkook were the center of attention however now that you're divorced, you fear you'll be avoided like the plague—they always preferred Jungkook over you anyway.

"You're forming a new partnership with that actor, right? Kim Taehyung? I read an inkling about it online yesterday." He also read his whole biography too. The man is equally handsome as he is altruistic and kind.

"Nothing's signed and sealed yet. I'm sure you've heard that he's gotten dozens of other offers on the table. To be honest, I'm surprised you haven't nabbed him yet."

"Yeah, we don't need...wait sorry, let me rephrase that. We aren't ready for a new partner or merger yet."

You can read between the lines despite Jungkook's correction. His company is thriving more than yours in every way, so he doesn't need the help of a third-party endorser...like you. Well, you're not doing too shabby yourself and this isn't simply about fame and fortune you want to argue.

The head poking through your door stops you from following through on that last line.

"Mrs. Jeon—shit." Your secretary Kim Namjoon screws his eyes shut at his drastic misstep. "Ms. __, Kim Taehyung called and said he'll be a bit late due to unexpected delays during his filming today. He apologizes profusely but is on his way over now. Sajangnim," he bows at Jungkook respectively.

"That's fine, Namjoon, thank you. You can send him in whenever he gets here. Mr. Jeon was just about to leave and I had the rest of my day cleared."

"Of course. I'll let him know to come in." Your secretary nods and shuts the door. Jungkook shifts between his feet once Namjoon is out of sight, a habit he's picked up that tells you he has more to say.

"Was there anything else, Mr. Jeon?" You shuffle a few files on your desk, prepping for your meeting with Taehyung. At this point, you're not even looking at Jungkook.

"Mr. Jeon? I think I prefer when you call me Kook more," he mutters, allowing his line of sight to catch a glimpse of your lips. "Can I...kiss you? Before I go."

The question knocks the wind out of your lungs and you instantly lift your head up toward him. "Kiss me?" You gulp slowly, then shake your head. "No, I'd rather we not. Goodbye kisses aren't really my thing." You couldn't be a bigger liar, evident from the sudden churning in your gut. Having Jungkook's lips on yours was the best and worst moments of your entire relationship but you have to fight yourself....your innate desires that tell you to say yes.

"Okay, I understand. What about a hug?"

"Jungkook..."

"I'm sorry, I'm pushing. Thanks again for my stuff." He gestures at the box under his arm. "I hope your meeting with Kim Taehyung goes well. Maybe I'll see you both at the next Winter Gala." He makes a beeline for the door.

"Wait!"

Jungkook stills in his tracks as he watches you stride in front of him. He's unsure what you stopped him for until your hands reach out towards his shirt collar, smoothing the delicate material down. A light smile plays on his face as you do this, though he says nothing aside from a simple 'thanks'.

"It was bothering me the whole time." You finish fixing his collar and peer up into his Bambi eyes. Out of all the potential suitors, you wish Jeon Jungkook didn't become your husband. It's not like you got to keep him or anything.

Jungkook once again flickers his gaze toward your barely parted lips. And this time, you do the same for him. Before either of you have time to back out you lean forward and kiss him.

It's a hard kiss too. Painful but so inviting that neither of you pulls away.

With his free hand, Jungkook snakes a hand around your waist to hug you close. Having his fingers pressed against the small of your back is so familiar and all you can do is deepen the kiss.

You're obviously not the only one that gets a sense of pleasure from this because, in a matter of seconds, the box from under Jungkook's arm falls to the ground. He then places his second hand on the side of your neck and jawline which you lean into, exposing the other side of your neck.

"Jungkook," you gasp when his lips attach themself to the soft skin, sucking lightly. His teeth come out and nip too. "Wait, we can't do this, we shouldn't. Taehyung, he'll be here soon."

"That would have sounded so convincing if you didn't just moan the words, baby." He walks you backward until you're forced to sit atop your mahogany desk.

"Don't call me that." You allow him to push up your pencil skirt and spread your thighs until your panties are the only material he sees. You decided to go with black lace today, his favorite now that you think about it.

"Did you—"

"No, they weren't for you."

A brief growl leaves the man's rose-tinted lips. "In that case, we don't need them." He places both hands on your hips and brings you into another kiss, messier than before. His tongue shoves between the seam of your lips to lick every crevasse he can. He hasn't kissed you like this for months and to be brutally honest, he's missed it as much as you.

Jungkook hasn't been with anyone else since marrying you either, which means he's completely adjusted to your body, your preferences, and what turns you on. The same applies to you so while he's busy shoving his tongue down your throat, you palm his half-harden bulge through his trousers.

"Mm," he groans and bucks his hips into your hand. You smile at how well you've managed to draw a response from him. With a little burst of confidence, you hastily move to unbuckle his pants. "What are you doing?" He mumbles between kisses.

You decide not to answer, preferring to reach inside his trousers to take his length out. You make sure to pump it a few times until he's fully hard. Jungkook has a gorgeous dick, and that takes a lot for you to admit.

"Fuck, that's it." He says with gritted teeth, now watching your hand as it moves up and down his cock. "Get me how you want me."

"We don't have much time." You slide your panties down your legs and spread your thighs wide apart, which makes Jungkook's eyes dilate about 10 meters. "Fuck me, please." One last time. Make love to me one last time.

"Are you sure? I don't have a condom."

"It's okay, I'm on birth control. As long as you're still clean then its fine."

"I am. I got tested recently. But are you sure you want this?"

You glance at his pulsating length, tip leaking with pre-cum, and swallow hard. "Hurry."

"Fuck, okay." Jungkook wastes not another second and guides you flat on your back, his hands resting on either side of your body. The coolness of your desk has you shiver slightly. He then urges you to raise your legs until they can wrap loosely around his slim waist. And as if second nature, you link your arms around his neck as he eases him into you. He's able to bottom out without much effort thanks to how wet you've become.

"Oh god." Your back arches off the surface of your desk as Jungkook thrusts into you. They're only practice thrusts at first to get you re-adjusted to his size, yet the pleasure zipping down your spine already has your eyes rolling up.

You shouldn't be doing this at all. Your conscious whispers to again to which you blindly dismiss. You'll enjoy it now and tomorrow, start a new—another lie you tell yourself.

"Fuckfuckfuck, you're so wonderful for me," he chants while pushing his cock in and out of you, the speed of his movements picking up to an insane rate. Jungkook never had an issue with quickies so he's likely in his element now. "You know what this reminds me of?" He cocks a smirk and kisses down your neck.

"Hm?"

"That time when we were abroad for a weekend conference. Remember when we stopped at my second office to pick up some files? You were so horny that day that you pushed me into my chair and demanded that I let you ride me. It took the wind right out of my sails to see you like that, so confident and in control." He prys apart the top button of your blouse until he can slide the material down your shoulders. He doesn't take it off completely, favoring the chance to place kisses on your newly exposed area instead.

"I was beyond stressed that day. It was the first time I had to speak at that conference and you looked so good with your freshly slicked back hair. I couldn't stop myself—oh fuck! Right there Kook, don't slow down. Please." Jungkook grunts at the use of his petname and fucks you rougher, sweat forming around his forehead as his dark hair dangles messily over his eyes.

You manage to sneak a glance at the time on your Snoopy clock between thrusts. "Shit, I need to come soon, or Kim Taehyung's never going to agree to do business with me." The man laughs and buries his head on your shoulder.

"You never know, he could be really into threesomes."

"Fuck! Don't joke about that." You claw at his back and surprise both of you with the unexpected clenching of your pussy.

"You're right, I take it back," he groans and continues to snap his hips. "Looks like he's not the one who wants a threesome after all, considering your body's response to the suggestion. You wanna ask him if he walks in?" He whispers in your ear and you're embarrassed that your cheeks burn at the thought.

Of course, Kim Taehyung was sexy and you've rehearsed to yourself dozens of times not to let yourself get any crazy ideas about him. Still, one unrequited love is enough for you; Taehyung wouldn't want a divorcee. You shake the train of thought before it has time to go any further. "Make me come, Kook. Need you to finish too. It's not just Taehyung who could walk in at any second."

Jungkook grunts and continues to thrust into you, bouncing you up and down his thick length as the desk shakes underneath you. He feels you getting closer and closer by the sporadic clenching of your walls squeezing him. A big part of him doesn't want this to end but it has to....he doesn't love you. He only wants to make you feel good before he has to say goodbye. Both of you come just before Namjoon calls your office phone, giving you a heads-up that Taehyung's about to enter your office.

Jungkook shoves his pants back on while you button up your blouse and fold over your skirt. You decided to shove your underwear in your bag with the lack of time. No one has any business digging in there anyway.

"How do I look?" You turn around to get a quick once-over from Jungkook but he's already out the door. Now the person standing in front of you is Kim Taehyung who has nothing but the most genuine smile.

"You look lovely as always Ms. __. I'm so sorry I'm late by the way. I feel terrible about it so I brought you these." Taehyung whips out a large bouquet of your favorite flowers. "Hope you don't mind that I did a little research on you ahead of time. I found out these have a special place in your heart."

You smile and accept the bouquet with thanks. As you set them on your desk, a messages comes through your phone. You manage to give a quick look.

Unknown Number: Sorry I had to duck so fast! I know it looked rude but Taehyung was already opening the door and you were dressed so I thought it'd be better if I left. Hope you're meeting goes well! And thanks for everything today ;) if you need anything, you have my number.

You flip your phone over and invite Taehyung to have a seat. Business is business, and you have to carry on even if your heart has completely sunk to the ground. Kim Taehyung is sweet anyway, so you'll enjoy his company.

Too bad you don't realize how much he enjoys yours as well.

a/n: so, yeah... there's a potential for our Jk to actually love oc and not realize it but either way he does care about her (despite the impulsive sex). And yes, taehyung likes oc... it's like a double unrequited love 😔 okay bye lmk what you think, thank you! 😘

Also, lmk what you think about jk in this poll!

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no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[pipwasreal]

Day 5: magic + marking

Characters: Charles Rowland, Edwin Payne

Content warnings: marking, knifeplay

Now with an illustration by jube-art!

Charles has been trying to untangle the string of this yo-yo for ages. It's a handy back-up weapon, with the string magically extending as long as needed to hit a target, but it's a pain in the arse to manually reset afterward. He wonders if it'd be possible to add a retract function, like a vacuum cleaner.

"I believe I have found a way," Edwin says slowly, stepping out from behind the desk, "of ensuring we can find each other, should we ever be separated."

Glad of the distraction, Charles abandons the tangled mess on the floor and springs to his feet.

"That's brills, mate!"

Charles grins and Edwin smiles in return, but he still seems tentative, his fingertips pressed together in front of him and his thumbs circling each other.

"What's it involve, then?"

"It works a little like the enchantment on the tracking stones, only more... permanent."

Edwin gestures to a book laying open on the desk and Charles dutifully glances down at it.

A load of text he can't read, some fancy runes... and a helpful little diagram of two Medieval-looking people, hearts visible through their chests and a dotted line picked out in gold ink connecting them.

Charles looks back up at Edwin expectantly.

"Essentially, each person is marked with a rune, the runes are magically linked, and they can activate the connection between them as needed, with just touch and intent."

"What d'you mean, marked?"

By way of answer, Charles can only assume, Edwin begins to unbutton his shirt. They've been alone in the office all day, so Edwin is dressed down to his rolled-up shirtsleeves, collar undone. It delights Charles that only he gets to see Edwin this relaxed.

"I took the liberty of marking myself first," Edwin says, "to test if I could faithfully replicate the rune on spectral flesh."

He leaves the lower half of his shirt buttons still done up, moving instead to unbutton his undershirt.

The skin revealed is smooth and pale, with a few freckles and a sparse dusting of hair. The rune, inch high and intricate, is scar-white on his breastbone.

"You did that to yourself?" Charles gapes, impressed and... a little bit uncomfortable, if he's honest. It seems oddly reckless, for the usually careful Edwin.

"I did not wish to mention it until I was quite sure there would be no ill effects. Are you... amenable?"

Edwin looks almost shy, which makes Charles want to be bold.

"Yeah, course. Don't want to lose you, do I?"

Edwin smiles properly at that, teeth and dimples and all.

"Nor I you," he says softly.

Then he clears his throat, all business.

"Right, well," he says, "according to several sources, the placement of the mark is important. If you wouldn't mind removing your undershirt?"

Charles immediately pushes his braces down and tugs his singlet off over his head, baring his chest.

"And the implement."

Edwin picks up a small knife from the desk and holds it up for Charles to inspect.

It has runes etched into the curved blade and tooled into the dark green leather wrapping the handle. There's a dainty silver chain attached, for hanging from a wrist or belt, Charles guesses. It's a pretty little thing, but the blade is a wicked sharp claw.

Edwin rests the tip on Charles' breastbone.

"Now Charles, I'm afraid this may sting a little."

Coming from Edwin, with his disturbingly high pain tolerance, that probably means it's going to smart like blazes, but that's alright. Charles swallows, stuffs his fists into his trouser pockets and nods.

Edwin places his other hand carefully on Charles' shoulder, squeezes gently, and begins.

The pain is bad, but Charles has had worse. And it's kind of nice, having Edwin so close, focused so intently on him.

After what can't be more than a minute, but which feels much longer, Edwin lets go of his arm and steps back to survey his work.

Charles cranes his neck to look down at his own chest. The mark looks more like a pale scar than a fresh wound, and already the pain is fading.

"Kinda looks like an E, doesn't it?" Charles says.

Edwin tilts his head. "I suppose... a little. Back-to-front."

"Right way round from here. Looks good."

Edwin's critical expression softens into a hopeful smile when he meets Charles' eye.

"Shall we link them?"

Charles nods.

Edwin presses his right palm to the mark on his own chest, Charles mirrors him, then Edwin takes Charles' free hand in his. He says a few brief words in an unfamiliar language.

Charles doesn't have to ask if it worked because he can feel it, pulsing between them. He laughs, delighted and oddly relieved. When he closes his eyes he can see it, a gold thread guiding him home.

[bigboysfalldeep]

Soccer Boy - Mind Slave

I moved to a new town, got a new job, and started a new life. I wanted to start over, but all of that changed when I found my new roommate. Mike, 22, is chronically obsessed with the gym, playing soccer, and, what matters most, broke. He was looking for a roommate to basically pay rent while he spent all of his money on his body and his athletic career.

I simply couldn't resist. I saved so much money throughout my life that I could sustain that flat, pretending to be an office worker, when in fact, I use my time to take over men's minds and have my way with their bodies and their bank accounts. I tried to hide my desire in front of him, but somehow he saw right through me. It must have been the way I was looking at him working out, or maybe he realized I was going through his stuff.

One day, he confronted me, got angry, and called me a faggot. Still, he didn't kick me out; instead, he even teased me more and more, but got angry with me when he caught me looking. I needed him to obey me soon. One day, he joined me in the living room, wearing his soccer kit, while I was watching TV. "What are you doing here, fag?" He grunted, snatched the remote from my hands, and made space for him on the sofa. "Watching TV." I mumbled when he shoved me aside with his body, so I was now on the edge of the sofa. "Not anymore." He smiled for a second before giving me an annoyed look. I believed that if it were for my money, he would have gotten rid of me ages ago. But he needed me, and I wanted him.

I took my phone, unlocked it, and went to a specific app. A wonderful little thing I came across a year ago. It lets me remotely control any phone with this installed, sending signals, images, and electronic impulses through the device. While he was showering, I prepared his phone, just waiting for the perfect moment. I wanted him so bad, seeing him in his kit, his thick dick bulging already, and his muscles testing the limits of the shirt fabric.

With one little click, I sent a push-up note to his phone, a small message disguised as an Instagram notification. Mike took his phone and, with a smirk, opened it. Right when he clicked on the note, his screen turned dark before a spiral appeared all over the screen, a dozen colors spinning and turning, sucking him deeper and deeper. He instantly froze, his body tensed, and his eyes grew wide. "What the fuuuck?" he said, stretching the last word.

I could tell he was hooked right away. I have seen that countless times before. Those men, strong and buff, are mostly weak-minded. Easy to manipulate. "A pretty little thing, isn't it?" I said, moving a little closer to him. Mike moved his head to look at me, but something made him look into the beautiful spiral. "It...is." He nodded slowly, still focused on his phone. With one press of a button, I activated the second function of the app, letting it send low electric impulses through his hands and, later, his entire body. Mikes body twitched shortly, once, twice, the phone firm in his hand. I love seeing men like that, their bodies getting encouraged to tense and to grow bigger, and so did his. At first, his biceps grew larger, followed by his pecs, chest, and abs. They're now extremely visible through the shirt, and his nipples pierce through it as well. My eyes wandered down his beautiful body to his pulsating dick. It moved from left to right, up and down, dancing, wanting me to grab it. But I needed to be careful. I place a hand on his shoulder and lean in.

"Mike, can you hear me?" I said, and he nodded. "Yes." He started drooling slightly. "Good boy. Then listen to me. I want you to go even deeper into your mind. Let go of your physical form; let your body obey me; follow my every order." I said, intensifying the grip on his shoulder. For a second, it seemed like it wasn't working, until he leaned his head back, moaning quietly. Mike closed his eyes before his head sank down to his chest. "Heads up, boy," I said, and slowly, he did. I watched him sit there, drooling, his cock still twitching and his well-formed body pressing against his clothes.

I couldn't help but start to touch him. I placed my hands on his chest, stroking him harder and harder while he looked into the void, his normally bright eyes now dull and vacant. "So good." I chuckled nervously. Better than I imagined. "Lean Back." I ordered. "Yes." Mike said it like a robot and rested his back against the sofa while I kept touching his wonderful chest. I could tell he enjoyed it, partly by the derpy smile spreading across his lips and his cock tenting inside his shorts. "I want more." I ran a hand through my hair, thinking about what to do next. "Take your socks off." I grabbed his hard cock before he reached for his feet as I got up.

"Very good." I smiled and kneeled down. As Mike sat there, I fondled his big thighs, tracing the outlines of his tattoo with a finger before grabbing his cock some more. It was already leaking quite a bit—a wet spot spreading through the thin fabric of his shorts.

"You like it, faggot?" I said angrily, channeling his anger towards me. "Yes." He drooled harder while I began to move my hand up and down his massive cock. Mike started to moan loudly, again and again. "Fuck." I removed myself,got up, p and motioned for him to do the same.

"Take that shirt off." I pulled at it and watched him slowly undress himself.

"Very good boy, indeed." I said, and I took a step closer, placing both of my hands at his thick pecs again, before playing with his cute nipples. "Freeze." Mike's body tensed again, all of his muscles reacting to my every touch. I began to touch him again, firmly, with my hands encompassing all of his upper body.

My hands ran up and down his pecs, abs, and even up to his neck. I felt his shoulders, his firm biceps, and back to his beautiful chest, but when I looked into his eyes, I could tell he was slowly gaining consciousness again. "No." My whole body was shaking, and I panicked for a second before I saw his phone still lying on the sofa.

I took it and handed it to him. "Mike, look at the pretty spiral again." He nodded and looked at his phone again.

I needed to do something. And there was one thing I could do. I picked up my phone, opened the app, and clicked on the electrical impulse button. This time, I increased the frequency and power of the pulse. Mike's whole body got stiff and rigid while shaking slightly. "Can you hear me, Mike?" I said nervously, and after a few seconds, he opened his mouth again.

"Yes." I sighed. "Good. Now. You will go even deeper. Let go of your struggles. Let me tell you what to do. Let your body be my slave." I said, and with that last word, he closed his eyes, and the phone dropped to the floor. I walked around him and hugged him from behind, letting my hard cock grind on his tight hole through his shorts. I needed to restrain myself, or otherwise I would have shot a load right then and there.

"Take them off." I moaned loudly, pressing my crotch against his arse. Slowly, Mike moved his hands and managed to pull them down without falling over.

Now just in his boxers, he stood there, drooling and his cock leaking more and more, staining his tight white boxers with precious cum. From behind, I grabbed his erect cock and played with it, jerking him off while he let out moan after moan. I felt myself leaking now too. "Kneel." I whispered into his ear, and without another word, he did. Enjoying the sight of my cocky roomate on his knees, I walked around, positioning my throbbing cock right in front of his soft face.

"Pull my pants down." I smirked and watched him grab my waist and slip his fingers inside my pants. Tenderly, he pulled it down, causing my cock to bounce, making me chuckle. I never imagined him sucking me off, and right now, I could live that fantasy. "Worship my cock, boy." I touched myself before he leaned in, kissing it, licking it, and touching it passionately. Mike steadied himself against my thighs and went all in.

I shot a load prematurely, the thick liquid pressing through the thin fabric. Instantly, Mike sucked it off before fondling with my dick again. "Good boy, now, suck." I grabbed my cock and felt him pull my boxers down. At first, my wet dick slapped him roughly, flushing his face with color, but he didn't mind. In a second, he took all of me inside his mouth and started to suck me off. And it felt good—so good, like fucking the perfect mouth—and even though he claimed to be straight, he must have done this before. Mike knew how to push my buttons, how to move his mouth, and how not to gag with my cock inside him.

It didn't take long for me to reach my limits, but before he could finish me, I pulled out. Just in time for me to cum all over his face. It spread all over his face; he flinched and groaned. The second one erupted towards his bare chest, covering him in my sticky cum. Again and again, I shot another load, covering him fully. "Fuuuuck." I moaned, trying my best to control myself. As soon as I went dry, I stroked Mike's face, neck, and chest, rubbing my cum into his skin. "Like that." I pet him playfully while he just nods.

His eyes rolled back for a second before a derpy smile spread across his face again. "Get up." I said, and he did. I could tell he enjoyed it too, given the massive wet patch all around his still-throbbing dick. "Are you done?" I touched his neck and his dick. To my surprise, he shook his head. "Follow me then." I led him into my bedroom and sat down on the bed, motioning for him to join me. Turning him around, I hugged him from behind again, one arm on his chest, the other around his neck.

"Now for the finale." I breathed down his neck, choking him slightly. Mike didn't fight back; he took a deep breath, awaiting my commands.

"Every time I touch you, you will get hard. Your body will crave my touch; it will crave a release from my hand and my will." I said, stroking him lovingly while choking him. I managed to pull his wet cock out of his briefs, causing him to groan breathlessly. "You can touch yourself and play with yourself; nothing will make you cum. And once the pressure gets too high, you will get back into this state and follow my orders." I said, tightening my grip. Instinctively, he grabbed his own cock with both of his hands, trying to make him cum, but nothing happened. "Do you understand me?" I said, letting him breathe again. "Yes." Mike moaned, and his body went stiff again. "Once you release yourself now, this will be your reality. You will be mine; you will be a slave." I stroked him while he took another breath. "I will be yours." He said that, and with that, I wrapped my hand around his cock. With one move, the tip erupted, and I aimed for his chest again. This time, it was his own cum. I loved seeing his body twitch, his eyes so blank, and his cock so hard.

After a minute of shooting massive loads, he went dry as well, and I released Mike. "Get up and get clean, pig." I pushed him, and he stood up. "Once you're done, you will get out of that state again and won't remember a thing about today. The condition is what stays." He looked at me with his eyes shining slightly, nodded, and left. 

I fell down onto the bed, touching myself again. This is going to be fun.

[ilovemybishies87]

The Vacation from Hell - Chapter Two

Chapter two is now uploaded to AO3! It is also below the cut, in case anyone prefers to read on tumblr.

This chapter is VERY loosely based on the response sketch from @damntheyare's original 'human hotel' fanart. Because some tropes will never die (nor do we want them to).

Despite the numerous changes since Alastor was alive, he could more or less navigate thanks to a few familiar landmarks, like the old Hermann-Grima place. Back in his day, it had been a boarding house for single women. He slowed as they passed its faded blue shutters and gated front door.  

“What is it?” asked Charlie. “You know this place?” 

He shook his head. “Not exactly. I know about it. This house has quite a history, spanning back to before I was even alive! The families who owned it are well known around here.” 

“Speaking of, where is here? I didn’t ask since you seem to know the way.” 

“New Orleans.” Alastor paused. “Home, I suppose.” 

Charlie’s eyes widened. “This is where you lived when you were human?” 

“Born and raised!”   

“And the hotel we’re staying?” 

He didn’t answer. He could only hope it still existed.  

Their suitcase wheels clacked on the brick sidewalk as they strode down Saint Louis Street and turned right. Many of the businesses were from after his time. He didn’t care for their newer architecture: some flashes of style here and there, but mostly it simply existed. Functional without any flavor.  

They crossed over two more streets before reaching their destination.  

Alastor allowed himself to drink in the sight. The name Hotel Monteleone was embellished in bold cursive on all three sides of the sign above the main portico. Festoons and cartouches, worn with age, adorned the hotel’s facade. Flower-filled planters lined a set of windows, and sky-blue flags waved on poles attached to metal guards.  

Charlie’s jaw dropped, and her bag nearly so. “This is . . . wow.” She laughed. “Good choice, Al!” 

“Thank you, my dear!” he said, and found his mood marginally improved. 

A solitary footman stood before a pair of golden doors. His attire was more suited to the weather—a short sleeve button down—but the black hat couldn’t have been comfortable. As they approached, he swung the door closest to him open.  

Cold air wafted out from the lobby.  

“Maybe we should have someone greet our guests at the entrance, too!” she whispered, nodding her head in thanks as they entered. “Nothing says hospitable more than a friendly face greeting you when you arrive!” 

“Oh? And who would you suggest for our doorman?”  

“Angel Dust?” 

“Not the worst suggestion.” He thought she might suggest Vaggie, but Charlie seemed to realize her dour expression would deter sinners seeking redemption. “Though I can’t say the types of guests he’d attract are what you’re hoping for!” 

“That’s the point, Alastor! Everyone is welcome,” she insisted. “The problem is whether Angel would agree to it. He already works for Valentino. But maybe this will be a step in the right direction!” 

The lobby was even more impressive than the hotel’s front. Their suitcases glided over parquet marble floors. Framed paintings of the founder, along with other men Alastor couldn’t place, decorated the walls. Above them, gold inlayed panels adorned the bases of crystal chandeliers. The lighting filled the entrance with a soft glow, making the place feel otherworldly.  

To their left, a rose centerpiece stood in the middle, bench-like seating surrounding the arrangement. A set of stairs, most likely heading to the establishment's rooms, lay before it. Another smaller set of steps led to the entrance of a restaurant. Alastor filed that away for later. Once they were settled in, food would no doubt be a priority. They passed more seating in the form of sofas and upholstered armchairs, along with a grandfather clock ticking away the seconds.  

Charlie lingered behind as he approached the counter. 

The receptionist was a completely average woman. Not too tall or short, heavy or thin. Completely unremarkable. Her only standout feature was the short reddish locks framing her face. Her smile screamed ‘customer service,’ but she didn’t appear to be in a mood either. 

“Can I help you?”  

Alastor read the tag pinned to her blazer. “Why, yes, I believe you can, Marie!” he said with a flourish. “My companion and I are needing a room for the duration of our stay.” 

“Of course, sir.” Marie began typing and glanced between him and a screen that suspiciously resembled Vox’s head. “Do you already have a reservation?” 

Fuck.  

Yes, he did. Decades ago, when they were supposed to arrive. Alastor was left with quite the conundrum. Did he take a chance on the hotel having an open room? Or did he use his magic to . . . turn the odds in their favor? The latter was the obvious choice, but he had expended more energy than planned to transport the group and their belongings. 

Alastor lightly tapped the top of the machine and infused it with his magic. A green glow came forth from the monitor along with thread-like tendrils. They reached out toward the receptionist and infused her pupils with the same green glow.  

“Yes, indeed!” he gritted out. “It should be for Alastor Malveaux and Charlotte Magne.” 

Marie blinked; her eyes returned to normal. “Thank you, sir. One moment while I pull up that information.” 

“Was that your last name?” whispered Charlie, joining him at his side. 

Alastor shrugged. “Who knows?” he replied, his voice low. “Whatever it was, it’s lost to the wind. The Radio Demon is what I’m known as now, and I have no complaints.” 

“Okay, but what about my name? Charlotte Magne. Really? What’s wrong with Charlie Morningstar?” 

“Your last name might . . . raise a few eyebrows,” he said, smirking, “and Charlie Magne is too obvious.” 

“How so?” 

Marie interrupted before he could explain. “Okay, so I’ve found your reservation.” Her face twitched. “But I’m afraid the room you requested was double booked. Another couple has already checked in.” 

“I see.” Charlie turned to him. “I guess we’ll have to cut our trip short?” 

"No, no, Miss Magne!” said Marie. “This was entirely our fault! We do have another room available, though. Fortunately for you, it’s an upgrade!” She started furiously typing away. “How long did you and Mister Malveaux plan on staying again?” 

Alastor struggled to keep his grin. “Six days.” 

“And what time were you planning on returning home? Check out is before noon.” 

So many questions. “We can be out before then.” 

“Perfect! So, that will be five nights total—” 

“What a relief!” Charlie scooped Husk off her shoulder and held him in her arms. He had somehow managed to remain affixed the entire trip to the hotel.  

Alastor wholeheartedly agreed. “We’ll have to decide who gets which bed once we are in the room.” 

“Oh, you wanted two beds?” asked Marie, the clacking on her keyboard slowing.  

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”  

“I’m sorry if I wasn’t clearer.” She held up her index finger. “The room only has one. If it’s any consolation, it’s a King.”  

He would not murder the woman for doing her job, even if she was getting on the very last of his nerves. Alastor forced the violent urge down and laughed. “It would be quite improper for an unmarried man and woman to share—”  

“We’ll make do,” Charlie answered, much to his shock. She looked up at him. “Is that okay?” 

“As you said,” he stated with a deep breath, “we’ll make do.” 

“All right! That’s five nights total with two pets,” Marie said, eyeing Niffty and Husk in their arms. “They receive their own little welcome package for free. Trust me, everyone loves it! And did you want any add-ons or upgrades for your stay? We offer overnight valet parking, along with a wide selection of wines and hard liquors—” 

“That won’t be necessary.” 

“Maybe some macrons for you and Miss Magne—” 

Charlie watched their exchange with rapt attention. No doubt she was mentally taking notes on what could be added to their hotel. That was the purpose of this visit. And while he appreciated her passion in theory—the more invested, the more satisfying it would be to see her dreams torn to shreds—the only one suffering at the moment was him. 

“Just the total,” Alastor ground out. “Please.” 

“That’ll be $2,204.60.” 

Alastor turned to Charlie and handed her Niffty, who let out a small ‘Yip!’ of dismay. Charlie gasped. She barely managed to catch the other demon—now dog—and juggle both her and Husk in her arms. 

Alastor unzipped the bag sitting on top of Niffty’s luggage and made a show of rummaging around. As he suspected, Husk had packed nothing but alcohol. He was grateful for once. A bottle of whiskey was calling his name. Hopefully the staff didn’t check the contents before they settled in. With his last bit of magic—at least until he could get some food and rest and alcohol—he conjured a stack of bills and zipped the sack closed. 

He pulled out the cash and began counting.   

Marie’s almond eyes widened. “Wow, don’t see that too often!” She stared at him grimly. “You’ll want to be careful. You’ll be a target for sure.” 

Alastor chuckled as he placed the last bill down. The remainder was shoved into his pocket. “I’m not worried.” He took Niffty from Charlie, much to her relief, and held the small dog under his other arm.  

Marie picked up the bills and double checked the amount. “Suit yourself. We don’t keep change here, but—” 

“Don’t worry about the extra. Consider it a tip for your hard work! Otherwise, we’d be looking for another hotel or returning home.” 

“Thank you, Mister Malveaux!” This time her smile was genuine. “If you don’t mind me asking, where is home for you anyway?” 

“I'm technically from around these parts, but it's been years since I’ve been back. Things have changed quite a bit.” 

Marie nodded. “You’ll find yourself at home in no time. Change doesn’t happen that fast here.” She turned to Charlie. “What about you?” 

“Well . . . ,” said Charlie nervously, “where I’m from is pretty big. And dry. And hot! Not to mention very . . . intense! It’s nothing like here.” 

Marie raised a brow. “Huh?” 

“California!” said Alastor, and he felt Charlie relax.  

“It’s where we met,” Charlie added, smiling at him.  

“Oh, so you must be an actor,” said Marie to Alastor. “You sure are dedicated to the craft, not breaking character! It explains the accent. The glasses and cash too. Those Hollywood eccentrics sure have rubbed off on you.” 

Alastor quirked his head. “Pardon?” 

“I’ve never seen you in anything before, but I'm not much for historical pieces.” She reached for the safety deposit box below the counter and locked the cash away. “But I’m trying to branch out. I’ll watch for you.” 

He and Charlie shared a look. A smirk graced her lips. 

“Not a word, Miss Magne,” he said under his breath. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mister Malveaux.” 

“Your room will be ready in a few minutes. Our bellhop will take your luggage for you.” A stout man with curly black hair approached. He wore the same outfit as the doorman, though his dark pants still held the crisp line from when they were pressed earlier that day. “Olivier, could you take their things to room 606?” 

He tipped his hat in her direction, then piled their bags onto the luggage cart. “I’m on it!” 

Alastor eyed the sofas in the lounge, but before he could move, he heard the shuffling of papers from behind the counter. 

“So,” said Marie, “what do you two plan on doing while you’re here?” 

No. 

Charlie bit her lip. “I’m not sure honestly. I was only interested in the hotel,” she admitted. “Alastor did all the planning.” 

Absolutely not.  

“I see.” Marie nodded. “Any sites you wanted to visit with Miss Magne?” 

He was not having any small talk. 

“I hadn’t given it much thought,” he said, his tone clipped. 

Marie’s expression brightened. “In that case, would you mind if I made some suggestions?” 

“Not at all!” exclaimed Charlie. 

“The Phantom of the Opera is in town,” Marie said, handing over several brochures. “Not sure if you’ve seen it yet. Broadway is probably better, but it hasn’t been to New Orleans in about a decade, so we’re all excited.” 

Charlie turned to Alastor and placed Husk on his shoulder before he could say a word. She took the pamphlets from the receptionist and flipped through one.  

“Is this any good?”  

Marie leaned over to see what Charlie was showing her. “The Voodoo, Witchcraft and Vampires tour? If you’re into supernatural stuff, sure. There's no shortage of that around here, even at this very hotel.” 

"How so?” Charlie asked.  

“There’ve been countless unexplained happenings over the years. Doors that open on their own, elevators that go to the wrong floor, even shadows of kids playing in the halls! Eyewitness accounts from different times, guests, and staff. Hard to write it off as coincidence!” 

What drivel. Charlie seemed to think so too, judging by her incredulous expression. If anyone knew what happened to a soul after they passed, it would be the Princess of Hell. They were either in her domain or they weren’t. It was as simple as that. 

“What about this, Alastor? They have jazz bands and even a jazz museum!” 

“I wouldn’t mind hearing a live session again,” he said. “It’s been ages! But I also wouldn’t mind some place . . . quieter.”  

“Then you have to go to Oak Valley Plantation,” said Marie. “It’s about an hour away from here, but if you want to get away from it all, that’s your best bet! It’s like stepping back in time.” 

Alastor considered her briefly. “Maybe before we leave, to wind down.” 

“Excellent! I can help get you tickets for any or all of those excursions. Give me another ten or fifteen minutes to calculate—” 

“We’ll do them all.” He glanced at Charlie, who couldn’t have looked more thrilled than if every sinner in Hell had been redeemed in one fell swoop. Alastor pulled all but a couple of bills from his pocket and placed them in her hand. “I trust you with the schedule, my dear.”  

Charlie grasped the cash tightly. “Thank you, Al! I won’t let you down.” 

“Yes, yes.” He sighed. “I’m taking a breather until our room is ready.” 

“Olivier should be nearly finished if you would like to head up, Mister Malveaux. Here’s your key,” Marie said, handing him a piece of plastic. “I’ll give Miss Magne the other so she can join you when we’re done.” 

Alastor held the rectangular thing awkwardly between his fingers. What odd material to use for a key.  

The elevator was several paces behind them on the other side of the stairs. Leaving the two women to hash out their plans—a decision he hoped he would not come to regret—he stepped into an empty lift and pushed the backlit button with the number 6. 

Husk pawed at his head, nearly knocking his glasses off. 

Alastor turned, his glare ice cold. “You’re trying your luck, Husker! I’m not in the mood to be messed with. Unless you care to find out if cats really do have nine lives, I would suggest you mind yourself for the rest of the trip.”  

Silence filled the compartment for the ride up to the sixth floor. The elevator’s ding! notified them of their arrival, and the doors slid open. A gold cart was parked in the hall several doors down. He could see the last of their luggage—pink, in all its shameless glory—being picked up and transported inside. 

“Thank you for your hard work, my good sir!” said Alastor, steadfast in keeping the last of his remaining patience in check. He handed the man a crisp . . . twenty? Fifty? He didn’t look. “Much appreciated!” 

Olivier’s eyes widened. Had he slipped him a hundred by mistake? “You’re too kind, sir! Thank you. Let me know if you need anything!” He pushed the cart back toward the lifts. 

The room’s door remained open long enough to slip in. Alastor allowed it to close behind them as he placed Niffty on the ground beside him. Husk jumped from his shoulder and landed on the carpeted floor. They surveyed their accommodations. 

White. It was very white. Alastor crossed over to the king-size bed and upholstered headboard, a wallpapered inset behind it. They were white. So was the bedding. As was the much smaller, more rustic chandelier hanging up above. The nightstands, the single-seated sofa, and the vanity and set of chairs at the foot of the bed.  

The carpeting. The floors. The ceiling. 

Everything was white. Even the bathroom gave him no reprieve. 

Was this what Heaven was like? 

Alastor felt like he was going mad. The only hints of color came from the trio and the baggage they had dragged along for the trip. Charlie’s and Niffty’s luggage were a sight for sore eyes against the colorless landscape that was their room.  

Husk’s was too, but for very different reasons. Alastor picked up the leather bag, placed it on the vanity, and pulled out a seat. A small glass was set upside down beneath a mirror. He grabbed it and quickly zipped the bag open. The bottle of whiskey he eyed earlier clinked against a bottle of gin, and without hesitation, he twisted the cap off with his thumb and poured out a healthy amount.  

Husk jumped up and hissed.   

Alastor tipped his glass and downed the drink. “Even when you can’t pour, you make an excellent bartender, Husker old pal!”  

An almost imperceptible beep alerted him to Charlie’s arrival. “That receptionist really knows her stuff!” She dropped a handful of brochures on the vanity, along with a much thinner stack of cash, and pulled out the seat next to him. “So, I know we’re here for research—” 

“You are,” said Alastor, pouring himself another glass. “I am but the chauffer.” He picked up the money, returning it to his pocket. “And sponsor, clearly.” 

Charlie hesitated. “Are you okay, Al? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink before.” 

“Well, we are on vacation, aren’t we?” This time he didn’t down the liquor in one gulp. He allowed it to linger on his tongue before swallowing, relishing the slight burn. “You were saying?” 

“R-Right. I still plan on getting the full hotel experience while we’re here. Even checking in has given me so many ideas! I’ll need to take notes, so I don’t forget anything.” She took out a notepad and pen from her purse. “Everything is so luxurious, don’t you think?” 

If someone enjoyed the ‘padded room’ aesthetic, then certainly. 

“But I figured, we might as well take in the sights too! I can only imagine how much has changed since . . . .” 

Alastor allowed the silence to hang between them.  

Charlie looked around awkwardly. “I’m sorry about the bed. We can ask for more pillows to create a wall between us. If that helps.” 

“You needn’t worry about me.” Alastor took another long sip before grabbing a different bottle from Husk’s bag. He read the label and realized he didn’t care what he was drinking, so long as it was strong. “I will make do.” 

“I don’t want you sleeping on the floor, Al. Or in the chairs. You should be comfortable!” 

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get there,” he said, fumbling over the words. His accent slipped as well. “In the meantime, you should do what you set out to do! There’s a whole hotel waiting to be explored.” 

Charlie stood and tipped her luggage onto the floor. “What about you? You’re not going to spend the whole day drinking, are you?” 

Alastor made one last drink and toasted to her. “Well, you could say I have some research of my own. But until then”—he tipped the glass back and grimaced—“I’m starting this trip off with a bang!” 

[keruimi]

Can I request a fluff??? Kenma tutoring the reader since the reader is bad at studies?? And later they confess and all?? Thank you!!

Infatuation or Love?

Pairing: Kenma Kozume x Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Notes: I'm sorry if it took so long. I really know Kenma as an introvert so him agreeing on tutoring someone seems too impossible. But I thankfully manage, I just hope he is not that out of character. Hope you enjoy it!!

_____________________________

I sigh in relief after hearing the school bell and was ready to take my console out of my pocket when the teacher called for me.

I stay still from my seat thinking what will we talk about knowing I didn't even do anything wrong this week.

I decided to finally stand up and walk to her desk and saw she was checking something in her grading sheet so I just stood in front so we wouldn't invade each other's space.

But this is nerve wracking.

"Sensei?" I called out in a whisper to alarm her of my presence.

"Kenma, I'm sorry for what I'm about to request" she started as I bit my lip a little to distract myself.

"I know that you are really busy especially if you are a regular in the volleyball team" she started as I nod in understanding but still thinking where our conversation is heading.

"But I need you to tutor someone"

It felt like my brain stopped functioning on her words.

I hope, I wish, if you don't mind.

It seems like those words are not in her vocabulary.

Do I even have a choice in this?

"Sensei, don't we have other students for that?" I mustered up the courage to question her as I tightly grip on my gaming console.

I need time for myself too. Lev is already a heavy problem I'm trying to unload from my life.

"They have declined"

"Then why can't I?" I almost slap my hand on my mouth when it let out the words that shouldn't be stated.

"Well I thought you would agree since you and Y/n seem to be close compared to the other students I gave this request to"

My ears pick that one name.

"Y/n?"

"Yes Kenma" she answered.

"Game"

"Come again?" The teacher exclaims in puzzlement as I tried to supressed the growing blush on my cheeks.

That came out loud than what I intended.

"I mean I don't mind, Sensei" I murmur that lifted a small smile from the teacher in front of me.

"Alright then, here's her contacts. Both of you should talk about your schedules so you know when you will have tutor sessions"

She handed me a card before I bid my goodbyes and immediately went to the volleyball boy's changing room.

I peek inside and saw that everyone seems to be already in the gym so I changed to my practice clothes.

I took my phone and typed her number.

It took me a lot of courage to even send a greeting and need to double check my spelling so I won't look stupid.

I hope this is the 'Y/n' I knew well due to Kuroo's constant nagging.

I quickly turn off my phone when I click the send button and just started walking to the gym, trying to calm my heart down.

Kenma, this is not you.

I remind myself when I start to notice I'm getting work up in this set up.

"Kenma! You're late!" I heard Kuroo immediately as I took a deep breath because I can really feel my racing heart.

I am not even sure if it was really her.

"Hey you ok? You look lost?" Kuroo ask as he stop in front me so I just walk past him and just start warming up.

"You look red, did you run on your way here?"

"Shut up"

"I'm just asking! Who knows you might be experiencing heat stroke right now"

I just ignore his nagging and just let the time pass by but I can't deny that my mind was in the phone.

Silently yearning that she would message me back.

Just because of one tutor, I had the chance to spend time with her.

"Kenma right?" My ears perk up when I hear her soft voice amidst the crowded hallway of the school.

I glanced up from my gaming console and saw the girl I started to secretly admire out of nowhere.

I just know I liked her when my heartbeat went faster and felt my face turn warm.

This infatuation just decided to target me right now.

"You're the one I'm going to tutor, correct?" I ask in a whisper as she hums in agreement.

I started to walk towards the library and felt her follow me.

My nerves started to get more out of control from the silence between the two of us until we finally managed to take a seat in the school's library.

"Where do you want to start?" I decided to break the silence and hid my gaming console to focus but I can't deny how my hands tremble under the table.

I really don't like socialising.

I only agree because it was her. Seems like I screwed myself up.

But thinking of the bright side, I prefer here than the gym where I won't even have enough rest unlike here where I bask in the cool and calming surroundings of the library without anyone annoying me.

Extra credits because of her presence.

"Wherever you want to start with" she answered in a whisper and my heart seems to calm down.

Is she also shy?

I mean, I only see her in every match we play, except when it's outside of tokyo.

That's why she always catches my attention until it turns into infatuation.

Now I need to suffer with the quick heartbeats every time I hear her name.

I shook my head to remove the thoughts that keep distracting me as I put my bag down to the floor.

"Alright then, we'll start with the easiest"

I need to take the lead which I have never done my whole life but this is a girl I'm talking about.

A shy one to say the least so since I need to teach her, I need to take the lead no matter how much I hate it.

As long as it was her.

Yet those moments where I need to push myself out of the bubble, will be one of the memories I would be honor to remember.

Because our relationship started to progress until we finally become comfortable in each other's presence.

She became a part of my routine and in exchange of fighting against my anxiety, I get to know more about who she is.

The reason why her grades started to fail was because she was also a working student. She can't balance school requirements and her work.

But she is not that really hard to teach. I think I only need to repeat myself twice and she will understand the lesson we are tackling.

And right now, three weeks after this tutoring session, I'm starting to have the urge to just lean on her shoulder and rest because I'm really starting to get comfortable in her presence.

It feels like I don't even want this to end.

"Kenma, I finished it" I heard her beside me as I finished the round I started playing like 10 minutes ago as I stopped leaning on the chair to check the worksheet I gave her.

Is this still infatuation when I'm starting to put efforts for her own good?

I slid the paper in front of her as I leaned towards her so I can point out where she went wrong in the third equation.

"In this part, you need to use the exact value. The only thing you're going to estimate is the final answer. Alright?"

I heard her hum as I finally had the urge to look at her and saw her focus was already on me.

It felt like my world stopped at that moment.

I saw how her face started to turn a little red until a notification sound caught my attention that made me break our eye contact.

I immediately turned away my face from her to hide the obvious blush appearing on my cheeks.

I was really falling in love that time.

And the obvious glances as the time passed by started to get to me.

"Kenma?" I heard her call for my name after I finished a practice match that brought the focus of my teammates on me.

"Oh, you're here" I muttered before I permitted myself to leave while drying the sweat from my neck using my towel.

"What brought you here?"

I finally glanced at her and saw she was holding a small box. I also noticed her shifting her feet from time to time and I unknowingly smiled.

"Sensei said that my grades are already good. So you won't need to tutor me anymore"

She mumbled as I nod but I can't help the sadness I felt in my chest and I out my mouth in a firm line to avoid saying something I shouldn't.

"Is that so?" I lost my words as my mind blank knowing it might be our last before we become strangers again.

"Yes, so as a little gift for keeping up with me. I made you an apple pie"

"Apple pie?" She nod when I repeated her words before she handed me the pastry.

"I've heard from your teammates that Apple Pie is your favorite" I didn't fail to notice the small blush forming on her cheeks that really confirms to me that this feeling of mine is not one-sided.

"Thank you Y/n. It was nice being with you" I exclaimed as I took her gift from her.

"Would you mind prolonging our time more?" I suggested and she immediately lifted her head up in delight.

"Are you sure?" She asked as I nod.

I saw her clasping her hands together as she seems to think whether to let out the words she is thinking or just let it be.

"I like you, Y/n"

I admitted it first so it won't be more difficult for her and I saw how her eyes met mine.

"That's why I ask you if you would like to prolong our time longer" I can't prevent myself from lifting a small smile.

And out of nowhere, I felt her own body on mine as I raised the box so she won't crush it.

"I like you too, Kenma. I really do"

Can I still call this infatuation?

When I'm starting to fall in love

[blmpff]

15.04.2023

[lurkdragonstuff]

I'm an atheist and a philosophical materialist. I don't think there's anything more to the universe than what can be observed and measured. Disagree if you want, that's fine, but take as read that this is where I'm coming from.

As you can imagine, this makes it very strange to me that my brain thinks I'm a dragon.

I have been trying to square this circle for years. Since around the 2000's, when I first made contact with the Internet, I would look in on the otherkin community, and the draconic community nested inside it, and I would think, man. I wish I could believe that. I wish I could believe that souls were real, and that I had one, and that it was a dragon, and that's why I was so odd. For quite a while, I just explained it as a furry fandom thing. Sure, yes, my fursona is feral, but ferals are furries, too. This is still true! I'm still in furry fandom, and my dragonself still acts as my fursona. But they are also, in a deeper sense, me.

I'm a secular pagan. I don't think gods exist, and I don't think magic is literally real. I can't really cast a curse on shitty charities. The moon's a big shiny rock. It doesn't care if I roar at it when the sun reflects off it just so and I can see the whole of its tidally locked face.

But my dragon brain doesn't know that. It likes the big shiny rock. It likes little shiny rocks, too. It likes to light things on fire, and considers this a sacred act, both bringing destruction to noxious things and bringing honour to things worthy of it. It likes to growl and hiss when things annoy it. It likes to collect things, to have a hoard. It likes to range around its territory, keeping an eye on what's around in what season. It finds it frustrating that its wings don't seem to work at all, and its other limbs barely better. It wants its tail back. It wants its fire breath.

I'm autistic. Sometimes speaking is hard, and I growl and hiss when things annoy me. I like to collect things related to my special interests; I have a sprawling collection of cetacean, Nintendo, and SEGA figurines, as well as lots of little animal figures. Plushies, too, and videogames, and books. I do wildlife photography, as well, marking who's around in what seasons. This is, to my frustration, limited a lot by waning energy because of chronic health problems.

If backed into a corner, to say what I really believe, of course I'm a human. It is in my DNA, expressed in a bipedal body plan, five fingers on the forelimbs only, nails and not claws, no wings, no muzzle, no tail, short neck, skin and fur instead of scales. Not even any horns. I find this frustrating, but it is what it is. I also find it frustrating when people call me 'she' and not 'they', and that really there is no feasible gender presentation that would guarantee that strangers would use the right word. The best I can hope for is that people will read the 'they/them' button on my hat, or otherwise call me 'he'. Still wrong, but at least novel.

I honestly think my draconic identity developed when I was younger as a way to explain why I was so weird. I have never been normal. I will never be normal. As an adult, I have fancy words like "autism" and "anxiety and depression secondary to post-traumatic stress disorder" and "seasonal affective disorder" to explain why I'm abnormal.

But a part of my brain, I think the same one that still believes in magic and deities even though I don't, tilts its head, then grins a sharp grin and says, "Cool story, bro. I'm still a dragon."

I generally have, for any given of my eccentricities, the philosophical materialist explanation (generally that I am either brainweird in some way or another or am playing pretend for placebo purposes to manage executive function etc.) and the dragon explanation (generally what the pretend play revolves around). But - and this is hard to explain - it isn't exactly playing pretend, either. It's me.

When I'm pretending to be Link, either playing a Zelda game or writing Zelda fanfic, Link isn't me. I might be inhabiting him as an actor, but he isn't me. When I play Animal Crossing, and I'm playing a character named after me, that's closer. It's me but greater. Me but more. Me existing in a life I wish I could have.

When I put on my mask, when I sit and daydream about the multiverse-hopping shenanigans I get up to, when I hiss at someone startling me by getting into my space, that's me. I'm not a dragon, I'm a human wearing a mask, daydreaming, hissing because "back the fuck off!" isn't allowed in the workplace.

Yeah. Cool story, bro.

I am still a dragon.

[beenbaanbuun]

Hey bunny! I'm back at it with my brainrot XD this time the trope is brother's best friend but the subject is still Kang Yeosang cuz I'm obsessed with him and the anti delulu meds didn't work 😮‍💨🫠🫠

I think this is the result of reading too many teacher/personal tutor yuyu fics + seeing posts about how our slow boy is actually hella smart, but can you imagine bratty MC and brother's best friend Yeosang (the brother in question being San or Yunho) who's known all over campus and your neighbourhood as being this sweet lil angel boy.... but who has been an absolute MENACE to you since you were kids?

Not in a harsh way cuz I don't think our boy is capable of that, but he's so indifferent and blunt? Barely pays you any mind at all and when he does it's this clipped, measured politeness?? Which is so unfair because he's beautiful and you've had a crush on him since forever???

Honestly it's more your fault than his that you're always so angry at him, but it makes you snappish and bratty just to try and push his buttons, but he never seems phased, always responds in a cool levelheaded way that's kinda hot and makes you even MORE pissed

So when you're failing math and your oh so wonderful brother decides to volunteer his only number literate friend as a tutor? And for some reason that friend says yes??

I can't finish these thoughts cuz I have a dinner to get to but yeah! Hope you have a good day bunny! Thank you so much for blessing us with all the incredible content that you do, make sure to get some rest and stay hydrated while you're at it <33

~Lyra

no bc i love this so much!!! just reader being bratty and then yeosang being all nonchalant about it AHDKSGDJSV ITS SO GOOD!!!!

but i feel like yeosang would be patient to a degree. like sure, he’s chill and cool about it usually but if you push his buttons too far he just snaps and you don’t expect it at all.

“can you focus?” he grumbles as he tried to find the relevant page in the text book. you’ve been watching the way his hands move over the pages for the best part of 5 minutes now, not taking in a single word he has to say. sure you’ve been listening, kind of, but that’s just so you can hear his deep voice in your ear - no other reason, “i’m not here for fun, y’know…”

you can’t help but scoff because of course not. why would he be here for fun? honestly, you have a hard time working out why he’s here at all, especially when he’s not getting paid for it.

“well, it’s not like you ever focus on what i have to say,” you spit back at him as you put your pen down defiantly. he doesn’t say anything or even acknowledge it, which only serves to drive your frustration up even higher. it’s not like you need a tutor anyway. sure, you’re failing, but you don’t see why that means yeosang had to be called in to help.

“maybe say something worth listening to,” he says, voice as calm as always, “now pick up your pen and work through these logarithmic functions for me.”

years ago you probably would’ve jumped at the thought of doing anything ‘for him’. what with his stupidly pretty face attached to that stupidly muscular body, and his irresistibly deep voice that only seems to come out with irritatingly quick quips. he was the only man to exist in your eyes, and perhaps he still would be if he weren’t so annoying. always so polite with you like you couldn’t see him being so free with other people. never responding to your jokes or rising to your teasing. it’s like he wants nothing to do with you, and you hate it.

in fact, you hate a lot of things, like the fact that you love a man who clearly wants nothing to do with you, or the fact that everything he does regarding you pisses you off. you hate that you can’t seem to shed your feelings of affection and lust towards him despite his apparent distaste of you.

but more than anything, you hate the fact that he’s tutoring you, and for some reason he’s doing it for free.

you sigh and try your hardest to brush away your annoyance. if he’s going to be here, you may as well make him pay, right? maybe if you push his buttons enough he’ll decide he doesn’t want to come back.

“i don’t want to,” you push your pen further onto the page with a shit-eating grin, “so you’re going to have to make me.”

you watch him as he mumbles something under his breath, eyes rolling into his skull in annoyance, and you can’t deny that it feels good to finally get a rise out of him.

“i’ll tell yunho you’re not being cooperative,” he threatens. you shrug your shoulders.

“and what’s he going to do?” you reply, “find me a different tutor? i doubt it,” you smirk and lean in close, “you’re the only one willing to do this for free.”

at this, he closes his eyes and puts his own pen down. you almost cry out in victory when he rubs at his face in frustration, a small groan leaving his lips when he pulls them away again.

“believe me, sangie,” you say in the most sickly sweet tone you can muster, “nothing you can do is going to make me cooperate.”

he turns his head in one shaky motion, and he looks at you properly for the first time since entering your house. he’s pretty as always, but you can hardly take the time to study him when he’s looking at your like he’s a predator about to pounce. his eyes are icy cold as he runs them up and down your body. his jaw is clenched as his gaze finally settles on your face, and you have to admit that the quiet boy has suddenly got very intimidating. you shrink back into your seat.

“fine then,” he says through gritted teeth, “either you do this, or i’ll have to find some other way to teach you a lesson.” now it’s his turn to lean in close. his elbows find purchase on his knees as he lowers his face to yours. you can feel the way his breath brushes against your exposed collarbones, and you hope to anything out there that he doesn’t see the way it sends a shiver down your spine, “don’t think i don’t notice the way you look at me, little girl. i’ve seen you staring at my hands. i know you’ve been daydreaming about me, hm?”

in the blink of an eye, he traps you. with one hand on one of your chair’s arm rests, he spins it until you’re facing him fully. his own rolls forwards until his thigh’s sit either side of yours. you blink at him, all wide eyed and confused. he just smirks at you.

“i’ve seen what you’ve been doing all these years,” a hand drops to your thigh, rubbing gently up and down against the skin that your short skirt - that you’d worn for no reason… no reason at all - had left exposed, “teasing me, trying to get me to drop my act and finally do what we’ve both been craving for so long. i’ve always kept to my lane for the sake of yunho, but i don’t think i can anymore.”

you whimper when he moves his face in close to yours, lips barely brushing up against yours. he smiles, nipping at your bottom lip gently.

“not when you so clearly need to be taught a lesson…”

[ashitakaxsan]

🎉Franky: The Unsung Hero of Spy x Family 🕵️‍♂️💥

Franky Franklin seemed like the goofy, lighthearted informant in Spy x Family, but Chapter 105 shows how much rigorous training he underwent. Besides the humor and awkward moments, Franky is a man who plays many roles—some light, some heavy, all vital to the mission and to those around him.

On a day that feels almost ordinary for Franky, we see him waking up in the morning to Japanese karakuri. Interestingly also he starts his morning ritual by enjoying listening to government-banned music. 🎉 🌟 As a well-functioning informant he listens to Fiona Chan's request for a "forged pass for the Podam School of Science. Cool that agent Nightfall(our cute, lovable Kuudere is here) has absolutely recovered after the fight against Mole Wheeler. And he's got the guts to remind her how has wants to be treated :)

and a man still holding out hope for love. His day starts with babysitting Anya, a task that, for anyone else, would be overwhelming. But for him, it’s just another part of his vigilant life. His relationship with Anya is one of the most endearing parts of his character—he’s her goofy uncle figure, someone who can make her laugh and doesn’t mind stepping up when needed. The man is a solid uncle figure, he makes it where Yuri simply fails. 🎭✨

As he takes the fee he goes to invest the money to a bet in horse races, but he's unlucky.

So he's up again to get info about any lucky route. that's when he hears the bad news from the teller. The only informant regarding access to gates 4 and above, Latchkey Lachy(whoever he is) got arrested by the always-feared force throughout Ostania, the SSS! So there's the looming menace of the Secret police.

What’s striking is his relentless optimism—even in the face of constantly changing hideouts and near-constant danger, Franky holds onto the hope that one day, he’ll find love. That's why now he's on a date with a familiar girl, Priscilla, and they'll go to watch a movie.

It’s this mix of resilience and vulnerability that makes him so relatable. He’s a man living in the shadows, often overlooked, but still working to hold onto the idea that there’s more to life than just survival.

Suddenly the news comes: Their teller is arrested "by the you-know-who": The SSS who has him, and Franky has to act quickly to save him.

The way Franky charges in and saves him is Amazing: He steps up prepared, with an effective plan as a real spy, saving the teller from the clutches of the SSS.🕵️‍♂️🛡️👧

The seeming "flower bouquet" is actually a pistole of smoke gas to make the SSS interrogators lose their focus, briefly and it works!

Watch this. How he gives them an awful time:

As they see the SSS reinforcements arriving he says: "They're welcome to try. But I'm going to show them just how hard catching rats can be!" With goggles for concealment, he fights them, using a real handgun, he presses a secret button to open a hatch, and they escape with his well big balloon:)!

This is Franky at his best—quick and profound thinking, resourceful, and willing to risk everything for the people he cares about. In this moment, we see his true heroism. He may not have the physical strength of Yor, but Franky's improved, worthy peer of Twilight. He’s a man who understands the dangers of the world he’s in, yet continues to put himself on the line.

Then he listens to Priscilla, about how she has found a boy to chaperone to the movies.🤔💔 Despite the disappointment, he calls it a good day.

Thus he and the teller go to watch a romance movie:

"How did he get so determined for the rigorous training?" you'll ask me the question.

The failings for finding love didn't get the better of him, so he made up his mind: To become someone as effective as the two people he's looking up to: Twilight and Nightfall.💪🕵️‍♂️🤔

Franky’s ability to juggle these different aspects of his life—his spy duties, his loyalty to his friends, and his optimism for happiness—makes him one of the most vital characters in Spy x Family. He reminds us that even the seemingly ordinary people in a story filled with super spies and assassins can have profound, heroic moments.

[norosesnolife]

| Am I writing yet another safe for work sleepover story? Why, yes, yes, I am.

✬ began at 9:48 P.M. on July 3rd | word count: 4,083 ✬

Anxiety was spiraling again.

Which was normal. Being one bad thought away from a downward spiral was Anxiety’s default setting. It was a wonder Joy hadn’t become so annoyed with her that she sent her away to the Vault, or worse, the Memory Dump. Lost to wander the hills of dissolving memories until she either went insane or wound up fragmenting enough to become apart of the subconscious.

Now, nobody had quite been expecting Joy to forgive her as quickly as she had. Sadness had mumbled some explanation about Core Memories, “Bing Bong”’s, and scary clowns, but Anxiety hadn’t quite understood it all.

Sure, had she tried to rid Riley of all her core personality traits and reshape her into someone bett- no, more well-adjusted and prepared? Yes. Had she nearly destroyed all of Riley’s personal relationships out of her obsessive fear of never being enough? Also, yes.

But that didn’t mean she hadn’t tried her best to make up for her mistakes and appeal to Joy and all of Riley's older, more important emotions.

Despite being assured that all emotions made mistakes- Anger had went on a lengthy boasting session about the time Riley broke a window while playing street hockey with a group of kids- Anxiety couldn’t help but feel like she wasn’t doing enough to redeem herself.

Joy needed someone to evaluate memories and take note of any faulty engineering around Headquarters? Anxiety was on it with a clipboard and toolkit.

Sadness needed a helping hand in remembering something from Manuel Two-Hundred and Seventy-Six: The Cerebellum’s Motor Movement Functions, Chapters Eight through Eleven? Anxiety had the entire cerebral encyclopedia memorized, with flash cards!!

Even whenever Disgust constantly tried to ween herself off Dream Duty, Anxiety was there with an energy drink (Joy had forcibly tried to get her off the stuff, but old habits died hard) and a pillow for her neck.

Yes, she had done it all, but it still wasn’t enough. She still felt that sinking pit in the deep of her essence whenever she suggested an idea- which was becoming fewer and fewer with each passing day.

Anxiety could feel the hesitation, the mistrust, in their eyes whenever she got a little too handsy with the Console. How Joy would scurry forward to gently pull her hands away from the buttons. How Envy and Disgust were wary to leave her alone without supervision. How could she ever be a good enough emotion for Riley when all she was capable of doing was ruining her life?

Certainly, Joy’s “special chair” was great in the heat of a moment when the stress got to be too much. The vibrations made the edges of Anxiety’s form become blurry, thousands of tiny tangerine dots rippling around her, scattered like her thoughts. And the tea was nice. But one could become so tired of tea, especially since the only flavour Disgust allowed in the cupboard was lemon and honey green tea (“all those other types of tea are toxic to our minds and bodies”).

So, while the chair was nice in a pinch, it wasn’t a cure-all to Anxiety’s never-ending spiral of obsessive thoughts. She could tell Joy tried to understand this, but it never seemed to fully stick- she still tried to “happy” away all of Anxiety's worries away.

Now, long after Riley had fallen asleep, Anxiety remained awake, having suffered through a dreamless hour and a half, pacing in front of the window, incapable of escaping the onset of, well, anxiety overwhelming her. Her lanky body scurried across the floor, feet moving at such a pace that they appeared like the frames of a cartoon.

Riley had a good day, all things considered. She had aced her Spanish test (celebraciones!), made plans for an exciting sleepover with Bree and Grace for the upcoming spring break; and managed to begin talking with a school counselor about her negative thoughts. She had gone to sleep without much fuss, after some math homework and an exhilarating game of UNO with her parents, leaving her emotions to sleep without worry.

Well, mostly without worry. Despite the day having been another great day for Riley, Anxiety had spent most of it wired about the results of the Spanish test, or fretting over Bree’s lower-case-only text messages while they planned the sleepover. It had been weighing on her all day, but all that Joy had suggested was to “think positive,” sit in her chair, and have Embarrassment hug her until the results came in for certain.

It had been nice in the moment, but, again, it still came back to bother Anxiety later on.

The orange emotion pulled at her feathery hair, tugging it down over her eyes as she moaned and groaned, trying desperately to keep it down. She did not want to wake anyone and burden them with her train of paranoia, especially not now that she was so close to being one of them. Whatever they called themselves- a family, a support system, a group of friends, coworkers- regardless, Anxiety desperately wanted to be as close as they all seemed to be without putting as much effort as she was into it.

Her teeth overlapped over her bottom lip as she chewed it anxiously, mind racing. She could have easily screwed everything up had she been close to the console while the teacher handed back their test results! What if she gave Riley another attack? What if she hadn’t prepared her enough for the potential of failure? Had Riley been breathing normally when the teacher passed by her desk? Had the other students noticed her tense body language, and, if so, what would they think of her? Was she an anxious mess in their eyes?!!

UGH!! Why didn’t Joy just banish her already?! The stress of waiting for it to happen was making Anxiety’s life miserable! It was clear that she didn’t help anything, not like the others. Even Ennui allowed Riley to remain cool under stressful situations- why couldn’t Anxiety just be like that?

She slapped her fist flat against her head in frustration, trying out the self-stimulating movements she had been reading about in Manuel Eight: Neurodiversity in the Mindscape. It certainly helped relieve a bit of the tension, although now her head was sore.

The temperature in Headquarters had risen significantly due to the speed at which Anxiety was pacing about, the papers stacked on the shelves fluttering as she continued to circle in front of the window. She now gnawed on the tips of her fingers, so deeply entrenched in her spiral that she hardly noticed the lithe figure sluggishly limping down the stairs from their sleeping quarters.

It had been too warm for Ennui to sleep, enough that she dragged herself from her loft, loathing every second she forced herself to move down the stairs at the pace of a wounded animal. Despite the effort it took to leave her bed, Ennui paused when she saw the orange creature pacing around in front of the window, little wisps of electricity trailing after her.

While Anxiety thought she was alone in her fears, the others had noticed her recent decline. Ennui and Envy had found a stray can of energy drink tucked away behind Fear’s box of stuffed animals. They had told the others, but it had been resolved not to outwardly say anything in hopes that Anxiety would feel comfortable enough to reach out- even though Joy had really wanted to take matters into her own hands.

To be honest, the two had forgotten about the meeting in the past month. Envy’s attention span was short, and Ennui had needed a nap afterwards, becoming exhausted by having done anything at all. So, perhaps this was partially their doing.

It had been clear that the new emotion struggled to articulate herself in making decisions, slipping back in to her controlling habits whenever a negative situation presented itself in Riley’s day-to-day life. Even Fear could see that she was more high-strung than himself, his admiration for her preparation skills outweighed by his concern for her well being.

They had all thought she would grow more comfortable with their dynamic and stop being so afraid to open up, now that it had been almost three months, but this did not appear to be the case.

Now, standing off to the side, dressed in an orchid sleep shirt and sweatpants, Ennui yawned, fingers itching for her telephone. She slumped down the rest of the stairs as the temperature rose with every step towards the restless emotion, who had not yet noticed her.

“Ahem.” She cleared her throat, voice gravelly. Anxiety did not respond, continuing to pace. Ennui resisted the urge to roll her eyes, groaning as she raised her voice.

“AHEM.”

This time, Anxiety did stop, blinking multiple times in succession to stare, mouth agape, at the purple emotion, who merely yawned in response. Her mouth opened and closed a few more times, before she spoke, voice cracking.

“E-Ennui! I did not see you there. Why, ah, why are you awake?”

She waved a hand vaguely around the Control Room, mustering just enough energy to push her bangs away from her eyes, as though this made things clear. “Too hot to sleep.”

Anxiety’s shoulders tensed and then slumped as she realized her pacing had significantly changed the temperature in Headquarters. She felt her face warm. “Sorry.”

“Pas de probleme. I don’t really care. I don’t sleep much anyways.” Gliding over next to Anxiety, Ennui scratched absentmindedly at her face, giving the shorter emotion a look from the corner of her eye. Despite her lethargic nonchalance, Ennui knew the tricks in talking Anxiety down from her obsessions in her own special way.

As expected, Anxiety’s shoulders dropped, and she fiddled with her hands, looking out the window at the labyrinth of long-term memories. Her expression was unreadable, eyebrows knitted together as she thought and thought and thought. Ennui, unlike herself, pushed a bit more.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Ah, nothing. Don’t worry about it- that’s my job, haha!” She forced a laugh, tucking her hands into her armpits with a jerky movement. Ennui raised an eyebrow.

“….”

Anxiety slumped, “Fine. I was just…reviewing the events of today. I didn’t mean to wake you up- I could try making some origami figures again, if that’s quieter- “

“Non. We should talk.” The words escaped Ennui’s mouth before she could stop them, and she inwardly sighed. All she wanted to do was lie down, and yet, here she was, emotionally bonding. Wasn’t this Joy’s job?

Although she could technically care less, a part of Ennui did genuinely want to make sure Anxiety was okay. She could be… nice, if she was bothered enough. It wasn’t like she was heartless; she just didn’t have the energy to fret about most things like everyone else.

“Talk? About what? Today was great! Riley aced her Spanish test; she can’t wait to do karaoke with Bree and Grace; and she even won at UNO! She never wins! What is there to worry about- except for the fact that Bree seemed upset with us for no apparent reason, we tripped in front of Mx. Whittman and nearly knocked over their favourite plant, that dog on the walk home could have bitten us or ruined our new jeans and Joy thinks I’m a worthless emotion and honestly I agree but I can’t say anything otherwise she’ll hate me and-“

Anxiety’s rambling was cut off by Ennui slumping forward to place a hand on her shoulder, her deep indigo eyes staring tiredly at the other. She felt her face warm again, and she stopped speaking, only the smallest squeak escaping.

“Tranquille. I think we need to wake Joy.”

“What?! No, we can’t wake her up! She already had enough of me, and I don’t want to annoy her anymore than I already have.”

But Anxiety’s protests were ignored by Ennui walking away, her form bobbing slightly with every step forward. She was given no time to prepare or protest or run away and hide herself under the couch before Joy- and the others- were entering the Control Room, all dressed in their pyjamas and looking rather sleepy- but somehow not utterly annoyed.

Joy yawned, stretching her arms above her head. Her blue eyes looked at Anxiety, who practically cowered before her, with a mixture of concern and preparation. So many nights had unraveled in a similar way. Anxiety did not know the whole truth, but Joy was also struggling to manage herself, her own controlling impulses. There were days when all she wanted to do was scream and yell and push everyone else aside to have Riley all to herself. Days where someone got on her nerves and she wanted to eject them from Headquarters to save herself a headache. But these thoughts didn’t help anyone, not Riley, not the other emotions, not even Joy herself.

So, this was why she was working on being less annoyed with Anxiety. Learning to trust her more, even when it was hard. This was why she mustered a sleepy smile, not a fake smile or an attempt at pushing the negative away, just a smile that said “what do you need?”

“Hey. I heard you were having trouble sleeping?”

Anxiety rubbed her arm, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah. I, uhm, making plans and lists didn’t help, and your chair was nice, but it only made me zone out and focus more on my thoughts...”

Envy, who had waddled over to stand beside Anxiety, placed a tiny hand on her leg, offering a big smile. “I'm having trouble sleeping, too! It's hard to adjust to new things, right?”

Anxiety nodded, “Yeah. It is, and I feel so... so different from you guys. I don’t know how I can help Riley when all I do is mess things up.” She looked down at the floor, shuffling her socks on the sleek tile.

What she didn’t see was Joy share a smile with Disgust, or Anger, or Fear, or Sadness. She couldn’t see how even Ennui managed a crooked smirk, or how Embarrassment beamed. Anxiety didn’t know that they had all felt similar thoughts at one point or another, that she was less alone than she thought.

“Anxiety, you don’t mess everything up,” Joy began, clasping her hands together.

“Yeah! You help her make plans and manage her time efficiently, even down to the minute. I wish I had your management skills!” Fear joined in, his teddy bear clutched close to his chest.

“Besides, if you weren’t here, who would keep us in check about all the boring stuff nobody remembers?” Anger gruffly added.

“Or help us remember to keep things around Headquarters running smoothly?” Disgust, looking at her nails, offered her own sly smile.

Sadness, who had moved to stand beside Envy, nodded and patted Anxiety on the back. “Sometimes, it is hard to feel as though you’re helping Riley… you feel small and worthless, right?” Anxiety nodded.

Joy, realizing where she was going with this, nodded and chimed in, “-But, if Riley didn’t need you, you wouldn’t be here with all of us. We love you, just like we love Riley. None of us are perfect- “Disgust raised an eyebrow at this, but said nothing. “- but that is why we all need to work together, to keep each other in check!”

“Yeah! Could you imagine if Anger was always in control?” Elated laughter bubbled up from Fear’s chest, nudging the red emotion with his elbow, which resulted in him being punched in the arm.

“Pssh. She’d probably kill someone if that was the case,” he shrugged, barely concealing a prideful smile.

“Exactly!” Joy pointed to emphasize her point, relieved that they could finally find something to agree on without the incessant bickering that typically followed. “The point is, Anxiety, we’re a team.”

She knelt down, placing a hand on Anxiety’s shoulder, “All we have is each other, so no more secrets, okay?” Anxiety sniffed, wiping a tear from her eye. “Which means, no more hidden energy drinks around Headquarters, got it?” This made the orange emotion laugh, more so out of nervousness than anything else.

“Good! Glad we got that sorted!” Joy backed up, standing up straight, but she couldn’t help but smile ruefully as Anxiety yawned, her eyelids drooping. All of the energy had been sucked out to fuel her thought spiral, and now she was more exhausted than anything else.

Envy perked up, gesturing for Joy to lift her up. She whispered something excitedly, and Joy beamed. “What a wonderful idea, Envy! I’m jealous I didn’t think of that first!” This made the little turquoise girl bubbly with pride, and she hopped away to enact her plan.

While Anxiety stood still, head drooping forward as she tried to remain awake, the other emotions retreated to their sleeping quarters, retrieving pillows, blankets, nightlights, and stuffed animals to pile up in the control room. Embarrassment constructed a makeshift fort out of the pillows and blankets, while Disgust plugged a lavender-scented diffuser into the Console.

Anxiety blinked quickly, seeing the cozy structure as she snapped out of her reverie. She was confused, and hesitant, and raised a finger in protest.

“Wh-What is this? What about Dream Duty? Your beds? I don’t wanna impose-“

Anger waved an arm dismissively, adjusting his boxer shorts with the other hand, “Eh, they’ve got the night off down at Dream Productions. They’ve been doin’ this new 'one day on, one day off' schedule, which means we all gotta adjust to their stupid idea.” He narrowed his eyes and grumbled, but ultimately let it go when Joy gave him a Look.

“Besides, slumber parties are fun! Why wait until spring break when we can have our own little cozy night in right here? There are no rules to where we have to sleep!”

Sadness raised a hand up slowly, “…actually, Manuel Seventy-Six: Proper Core Emotion Maintenance and Routine states that Headquarters isn’t a sustainable space for emotions to sleep in for long periods of ti-“

Joy waved her hands, cutting Sadness off with a forced grin. Hey, nobody said she was perfect all the time. “Thank you, Sadness, but we’ll be fine for one night!!” She clapped her hands together, “Now, everyone! Grab a pillow and huddle up!”

After a few minutes of moving around, adjusting, and squeezing into the (admittedly tiny) pillow-and-blanket fort, the emotions had settled in and managed to doze off.

Embarrassment lay on the floor, on his back, arms outstretched as the others cuddled close to him, his form warm and comfortable. Having spent most of his days attempting to make himself look smaller or less noticeable, it was nice to support others with his larger size, even if it was a little cramped in the fort itself. He was all cozy in his wool onesie, already snoring softly beneath the glow of the Console.

Disgust laid on the far left, her arms flat at her side, a sleep mask pulled over her eyes, the cooling gel preventing any wrinkles and creating a refreshing nights rest. Only one strand of hair escaped from beneath the hem of her bonnet, but Joy brushed it back in place as she checked in on everyone one last time.

Sadness was curled up beside Disgust, her fists balled up, eyebrows knitted together while she whimpered softly in her sleep. Joy smiled, placing a hand on her cheek to comfort the blue emotion throughout any depressing dreams plaguing her subconscious, and nestled in beside her, their backs pressed together.

Anger was on the far right, barely laying on the edge of Embarrassment’s outstretched arms, his own arms crossed over his chest as he grumbled in his sleep. Despite his insistence that he needed his cinder block pillow to sleep, he had been one of the first to pass out once he begrudgingly laid his head on the fluffy fabric of Embarrassment’s sleeve. Joy had tried to get him something to help him stop gritting his teeth at night, but he had chucked it out the window. Oh, well.

Fear was next to Anger, on his left, sharing his beloved teddy bear with the fiery emotion as he whimpered and kicked his feet. He was having another nightmare, undoubtedly, but this one seemed less tense than the others. At least, if he woke up, he would be surrounded by those he loved most… and the ten nightlights he had plugged in across the Control Room. Joy tucked a stuffed clownfish plush into his arm, just in case.

Beside Fear was Ennui, who had miraculously fallen asleep after a lengthy period of time scrolling her telephone. Joy did not understand what was so interesting on that little device- Riley was obsessed with it, too, but Joy could not understand the appeal of pressing a bunch of little buttons repeatedly with no real-life reward. The indigo emotion was like a snake, curled up with her legs poking out of the fort’s front. Despite her lackluster attitude, Joy found it cute how Ennui was holding Envy, the tiny emotion tucked in between her arms like a little kid. It reminded her of how Mum and Dad used to hold Riley, back when things were so easy.

Before she could get wistful, Joy relaxed back into her position next to Sadness, turning to the one emotion who had brought them all together like this. Anxiety laid in the centre of them all, tucked between Joy and Ennui. Her feet were kicking quickly, not like Fear’s terrified kicking, but more of a self-stimulating activity designed to help her relax. It did not appear to be as effective as she hoped, as the orange emotion was still tense.

Joy pursed her lips and propped her head up on her hands, looking up at the ceiling, mimicking Anxiety, who was doing the same with a wide-eyed stare. They lay in silence before she finally spoke.

“I don’t understand why you forgave me. I nearly ruined Riley’s life.”

Sighing, Joy glanced at Anxiety. “It wasn’t easy. I think the reason why I pushed you away was because I felt threatened by you. You reminded me of... me. O-Of what I couldn’t be for Riley. You were right, neither of us can choose who she gets to be. We can hope for the best for her, but she needs to be her own person.”

Anxiety fiddled with her fingers. “I know. It’s all just so scary... What if we mess it up and hurt Riley? What if I mess it up?”

“Then we try again the next day, and the next, and the next. Riley will still be here tomorrow, no matter how scary today seems, and we need to be there tomorrow, for her sake.” Joy placed her hand on Anxiety’s, and the other emotion stilled entirely, cautioning a glance towards her.

“Thank you, Joy. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no need to thank me. This was Envy’s idea.”

She laughed despite herself, nestling deeper into the blankets. Anxiety’s form relaxed enough so that she could comfortably rest her head on one of the many pillows, feathery hair splayed around her like the tail of a peacock.

Joy stared at her affectionately, at all the other emotions with a sense of love. Sure, they got on her nerves, and it was so very hard to be the only positive emotion in a sea of worry and negativity, but they were her family. She was protective of them in a similar way that she was protective of Riley, and it made her feel warm and fuzzy to have them all so close to her, no matter how much problems they caused.

She yawned, feeling her form sparkle around her in little glowing dots of happiness, and lied down, draping an arm over Anxiety. She then paused, wondering if that was okay, but she felt the smaller emotion relax and move closer to her, so she left it there. Sadness snored and pressed her back against Joys, making her feel surrounded by warmth and love.

Maybe, just maybe, it would all work out in the end. At least until tomorrow. There was always tomorrow.

[gabessquishytum]

I don't know if you watch a lot of Japanese media but I just watched Hirokazu Koreeda's Air Doll for the first time about a plastic sex doll that comes to life and there's this one scene which was kinky enough I know would catch your interest.

So basically, I'm thinking Hob is walking home from work one day when he discovers this strange human-sized plastic doll that's been thrown out in the dumpster. It's strange because it still seems to be in very good condition and when he looks into its bold blue eyes he can't help but feel mesmerized. Now, his sex life has always been active enough that's he's never had any interest in "those" sort of toys but he decides to take it home on a whim. He doesn't think much of it until he wakes up the next morning to discover a man standing in front of his bed watching him sleep! And he recognizes Dream as the former sex doll right away(the airplug for a belly button kind of gives it away). Neither understands quite how this happens but after some long conversations they just decide to roll with it and live together as roommates. Only problem is Hob finds Dream suuuper attractive but doesn't know how to deal with his feelings considering Dream's probably gone his entire existence only being seen as a sexual object.

One day, while cleaning, Dream accidentally pokes himself on something and quickly begins to deflate. With some quick thinking, Hob tapes up the cut and starts blowing into Dream to revive him. Dream starts to inflate again but as he's blowing, Hob begins to notice ... that's not all that beginning to inflate.

I am not familiar with this particular story I have to admit, but! Speaking of people turning into objects, when the trailer for Chicken Nugget came out, I was like. What if Hob got turned into a chicken nugget and Dream had to take care of him and stop him from being eaten. BUT! I digress.

Blow up doll Dream is terrified that he's deflating, because he assumes that there's no way back. But Hob helps him, comforts him, puts his own mouth over Dream’s mouth to blow air inside him! Dream goes from scared to horny very quickly. Hob’s dedication to saving his life plus the erotic sensation of his mouth just feels incredible in every possible way. His cock starts to fill and inevitably he finds himself standing in front of Hob, incredibly hard. His body is flushed red. Hob is so apologetic, he should have blown into Dream’s proper airhole instead of his mouth, he's so sorry... meanwhile Dream is trembling and hard and he wants to be inside Hob so so much that it actually hurts. He needs to fulfil his purpose....

But he's also feeling romantic attraction for the first time ever, and that's so confusing! He wants Hob to hold him. He wants to be properly loved, not just used for temporary pleasure. Well, he's in luck! Because Hob’s sweet hands are caressing the place where he was taped up, murmuring words of comfort, even draping a bathrobe around Dream to protect his modesty post-deflation. All little acts of love.

And if he leads Dream to bedroom afterwards, and spreads his legs for Dream to use his well-prepped hole....... well, that's an act of love too. Dream feels it, as he sinks his hard, aching, (beautifully plastic) cock into Hob for the first time. He finally feels loved, and like his function is something to be rather proud of after all.

[homestuckreplay]

Average Rose Lalonde Behavior

(page 862-870)

I’m not saying I like Rose better than John, but Rose definitely has the cooler story right now, so I’m glad to be hanging out with her in this super cool lab which may or may not be part of her house. I thought she picked up Jaspers’ corpse because she wanted to prototype her sprite with him – the ‘dark twisting path to necromancy’ she mentions on p.440. But she doesn’t seem upset when she accidentally throws him onto the transportalizer. ‘Oh well. Ashes to ashes you guess.’ (p.863) is reminiscent of ‘I would describe my feelings toward the animal as lukewarm’ (p.442), but could also be more of a ‘I don’t have time to deal with this on top of the other 413 things I’m dealing with’.

But hey. Where did that cat go?? Is Jade going to go outside and there’s just a transportalizer there with a dead cat? Will there be a twist where it’s Jade who prototypes Jaspers, not Rose? The similar technology makes me suspect their locations are linked, as does the ‘UNESTABLISHED IN’ countdown timer. Jade growing up with this timer would explain how she knows today is ‘the big day’ (p.838).

Rose of course enters the lab 4:13 minutes before Skaianet Laboratory is unestablished, which could mean ‘destroyed’ (by a meteor, perhaps) or could mean ‘shut down, power turned off’ and either way, Rose doesn’t have much time. It feels soon to see this timer and could mean this is a short act, or could mean there will be a lot of cutting back and forth between characters. But either way I think Rose getting into the Medium in three minutes having not even connected with a server player yet is a tall order. She might end up just moving to increasingly strange locations while she waits.

It’s very funny that Rose ‘I think trees are elegant’ Lalonde has been using trees wrong for the entirety of her fetch modus career. ‘Root’ even being an option is like sorting price from high to low, it’s a totally unnecessary function that makes everything worse. I love on page 868 where Rose captchalogues the hub while still holding her laptop, and there’s a cable leading into her sylladex – I am contorting my understanding of 3D space to process this but it’s a cool moment, I really like the reminder that this compression of space is normal for these kids, and it’s a cool visual when the connected cards shuffle around each other.

The hub also has a very pleasing design. It’s green and square and has lights and buttons. Undeniably a piece of science technology.

PM was an absolute beast with that sword and beheaded that giant mailbox eating worm like it was NOTHING. They’re also far more adept with the bunker terminal controls than WV. From a story perspective, it works that the bunker’s countdown and >HOME command were a big deal and a story-expanding moment in act 2, but now those mechanisms are established, it’s all pushed into simpler images in an external page that indicate ‘the same thing happens’. That’s helpful if a story is going to use a lot of patterns and repetition.

Mailboxes are not cans but I think there could be a place for them in Can Town, when WV and PM presumably meet up on Jade’s island. PM’s sword could probably open a can and the two of them can share in BEETS and MAYO. PM will love WV’s trusty knife. And maybe they can look at that mysterious undelivered letter that’s visible in one of PM’s mailboxes….

> Rose: Check out John's work on the GameFAQs.

[tevanavernus]

You Look So Pretty, Pretty Like The Sun - Chapter 1

Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10

Link to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55256683/chapters/140163892

No matter what Buck did, he could not get Tommy out of his mind. The countless times he picked up his phone to text the guy, to apologize profusely, and to beg for another chance were driving him insane. He was never good at explaining his feelings when it mattered; the words would make sense in his head, but the moment it came to speaking them out loud, they would come out jumbled, and he, more often than not, would mess it up. If there was one thing that he was great at, it was messing things up. Hell, this week alone seemed to be just one screw-up after another.

The jealousy, the near-strangulation by an alien hand, maiming his best friend, and now royally screwing up the one date he really wanted to go well. Worst of all, the date was actually going better than he had expected for the most part. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so nervous about a date; it felt like he was about to jump out of his skin. If he were honest, Buck wasn’t sure how he even managed to function as a human being; certain things just blurred in his mind. At times, he remembered his mind zeroing in on not letting his trembling hand spill the beer as he raised it, on making sure he wasn’t eating too slowly or too quickly, or worse, choking on a date again. But above all, he remembered Tommy sitting across from him, looking at him, giving his full attention only to him. It left Buck a stuttering and blushing mess, yet Tommy never pointed it out or made him feel self-conscious. If anything, he didn’t bat an eye at Buck stumbling over his words; he just laughed lightly at Buck’s stories and shared his own in turn. Tommy would smile that dashing smile and make Buck forget how to breathe. It was easy to forget they were technically on a date, that it was his first time being out with a guy that wasn’t strictly platonic.

That was until the bill came and reality hit him like another lightning bolt. Suddenly, it all became too real; he was on a date with another man and he couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone was staring at him, accusing him of being a fraud, of pretending to be someone else. It was as if everyone could see straight through him and recognize every mistake he'd ever made. He feared that Tommy would take one more look at him and see it all too. Suddenly, all the desperate need to be seen by Tommy disappeared, replaced by dread. Buck shrunk back into himself so far he might as well have left his body, only to watch himself dig such a deep hole and bury his chance at something with the first guy he ever liked.

Which led him to his current predicament. Days later, he still couldn't stop thinking about the man. Buck thought about what he would say, made a whole script of countless ‘ hey’ and ‘I’m sorry’ messages in his head. Had lifted his phone to write them, but every single time he opened the messaging app, the words died at his fingertips. Their previous conversation history would pop up, and there wouldn’t be good enough words to start the message. It only caused Buck to sigh and run his hand through his hair in frustration, feeling a light pang in his chest. They hadn’t exchanged that many texts, as both had hectic schedules but they would get few words in here and there in between calls, mostly about possible places to go. Yet the messages represented the time where they were good.

It took both coming out to Maddie and Eddie for him to pick up the phone again and actually press the button. He waited with bated breath as the phone dialed, his heart pounding inside his chest.

“Hello?” Tommy finally answered, causing Buck’s breath to hitch.

“Hey Tommy,” he managed to choke out. Clearing his throat, he quickly added, “It’s Buck. How… how are you?”

Before Tommy could answer, he heard voices in the background and hastily added, “Sorry, is this a bad time?”

“No, I can spare a few minutes,” came Tommy’s reply. God, Buck really wished he could see the man. Hearing his voice did things to him, but it didn’t compare to seeing him in person.

“I’m good, how are you?”

“No, I’m great. Listen, I, uh… I really want to talk to you,” Buck managed to get out. “Not that we are not talking now, 'cause obviously we are, but…”

But Tommy deserved better than just a phone call. He came to Buck’s place the last time he wanted to talk, which led to the man kissing him and inviting him on a date. The memory of the unexpected but very welcomed kiss caused his brain to haywire, and he realized that silence fell over them as Tommy waited for him to continue.

“Could… Could we meet up?”

It took Tommy a moment to respond, as if he was considering how to reply. Buck’s nerves picked up again. He really wouldn’t blame Tommy if he said no, not after how he behaved the last time. But before he could drown in doubts, Tommy pulled him back with a simple:

“Sure, Evan. When are you free?”

“Tomorrow?” Buck winced, hearing the eagerness in his own voice, but nonetheless his chest swelled with happiness and a wide grin broke on his face. He could barely contain the urge to fist bump the air. “I can send you the details or if—“

“Great, I will see you then,” The screeching ring of the bell interrupted them. “Unfortunately, I do have to run now.”

“Yeah, of course. Thanks, Tommy. Have a good shift.”

“No need to thank me, Evan.”

With that, Buck was left feeling giddy, standing by the counter in his kitchen with a huge smile, as if he were a lovesick teenager once again.

———

The early sun basked on his shoulders as Buck navigated to a free table outside, two cups of coffee in his hands. He had no idea how Tommy liked his coffee, so he got one with cream and sugar. Buck felt more relaxed this time around, more sure of himself, but that didn’t stop him from subconsciously wiping his hands on his jeans. Luckily, before his mind could overthink it, he spotted Tommy turning a corner and walking up to the table with hands tucked in his navy zip-through hoodie. Buck couldn’t help but eye him up. Not only was Tommy gorgeous, but the way he effortlessly held himself with such ease was captivating

“Hey.” Buck greeted him, breathlessly, his heart racing as he straightened up . Tommy smiled, still with his hands in his pockets, his eyes warm and inviting as he stopped in front of the table.

“Hey,” he replied lightly.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet me.” Buck said, his gaze flickering between Tommy’s eyes and the table.

“Of course,” his gaze briefly dropping to the table before meeting Buck's eyes again, a hint of curiosity in his expression. Buck motioned for him to sit down, his hand gesturing towards the empty chair opposite him.

“I, uh, got you a coffee,” Buck said, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of his lips as Tommy thanked him and finally sat down.

“I- I didn’t know how you take it, so I, uh, took a guess.” He was quick to add to fill the silence. He swayed a bit in his chair, the nerves making him feel jittery. Tommy took a sip and put it down almost immediately, a playful glint in his eyes as he teased, “Mmm, so not like that.”

Buck chuckled, his own tension easing slightly in response.

“Seems like there are a lot of things we don’t know about each other.”

“Practically everything.” Tommy quipped, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.

“Well I would like to change that,” Buck declared, his voice steady and certain. “First, I need to apologise. For the way I behaved the other night.”

“You’ve nothing to apologise.” Tommy was quick to reassure.

“No, I do.” Buck met Tommy’s gaze.

“No I didn’t cut things short because you behaved badly. I did it because I didn’t want to pressure you.” Tommy explained.

“Still the way I reacted was not my proudest moment.” Buck admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

“Noted.”

“So uh.. You said before that you don’t think I’m ready.” Buck swallowed. “And the truth is, I don’t know what I’m ready for. But I am ready for something. And I think that something could be with you.”

There he said it, passing the ball to Tommy. A small hope blossoming inside.

“You already know that I’m interested.”A small smile broke out on Tommy’s face

“Come with me to my sister’s wedding.”

Tommy chuckled in surprise, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“What?”he asked incredulously, his tone filled with surprise and amusement.

“I want you to be my date at my sister’s date.” Buck clarified with a wide grin. He really wanted Tommy to join him. To be able to not only share such important moment with him but also to show him off to the people that were most import in Buck’s life. To have Tommy by his side through the celebrations and the dancing.

“Evan.” Tommy replied, still in disbelief, and Buck relished in the moment of having the rug pulled from under his feet for the first time.

“Come on, I’m serious,” Buck continued, happy yet briefly wondering if he broke the man from how shocked he looked. “You know half the people there and she wants to meet you.”

Tommy leaned on his arms across the table, making Buck distinctly aware of the space between them. Ever since they met, they seemed to gravitate towards each other, and Buck wanted to close that space now.

“Are you absolutely sure about this.” Tommy asked again, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Yes I’m sure. There’s going to be free food, and I need someone to dance with.” Buck replied confidently, his eyes meeting Tommy's with determination.

“Okay.” Tommy said, nodding slowly as he processed Buck's words.

“Yeah?” Buck asked eagerly, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Tommy confirmed, a small smile playing on his lips.

“’Kay great.” Without thinking, Buck reached across the table and gently placed his hand on top of Tommy's, feeling a rush of warmth and butterflies in his stomach as Tommy's other hand immediately covered is.

A comfortable silence enveloped them, allowing Buck to relish the sensation of holding hands.

“So,” Tommy finally spoke lightly, his fingertip lightly brushing against his knuckles. “You told your sister about me?”

“Well more about me yet again managing to mess up a date but yeah, you came up.” Buck chuckled, his cheeks flushing slightly.

“Dare I ask what she thinks?” Tommy asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“She’s happy for me. And probably pleased that I survived the date without an emergency tracheotomy again.”

“Come again?” Tommy raised an eyebrow in surprise, sounding half concerned.

“It’s uh a long and embarrassing story.” Buck chuckled, scratching the back of his head. His cheeks flushed deeper.

“I don’t know about you but I have time,” Tommy smiled, giving Buck's hand a reassuring squeeze “And I would love to get to know you.”

“Yeah, I do have time.” Buck replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The unspoken ‘for you’ lingered at the tip of his tongue.

——-

They lingered at their table for longer than it was probably appropriate. Their conversations about work and light personal stories made time fly. In what felt like mere moments, even though the coffee had long gone cold, Tommy checked the time on his phone and sighed.

“I've got a shift starting soon.”

Buck offered to walk him back to his car, reluctantly pulling his hand away from where it had been grazing Tommy’s on the table. As they strolled to the car, time seemed to pass too quickly, even though they didn’t rush. Buck enjoyed the closeness, and though they weren’t holding hands, as they walked, their fingertips lightly brushing against each other.

“So I still don’t know your coffee order.” Buck mentioned as they stood beside Tommy’s car, not wanting their time together to end just yet. They would have to part ways soon enough, but neither of them seemed eager to do so.

“I guess we will have to keep going out on coffee dates until you figure it out.”Tommy smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“I would like that.” Buck replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Me too.” Tommy smiled warmly and Buck couldn't help but glance down, not so discreetly, at his lips. He subconsciously lifted his hand and touched his own lips, their last kiss, fresh in his mind. He watched as Tommy’s gaze moved to his lips as well, catching the action. Buck wanted to kiss him again. Or be kissed by him. Whichever came sooner.

“I should get going,” Tommy finally mentioned, his eyes flicking back to Buck’s. With knees that felt like they were about to give out, and feeling a burst of courage, Buck closed the space between them, letting his lips brush against Tommy’s. He wasn’t as smooth about it as Tommy was, almost clashing their teeth together in his eagerness . But none of it mattered. Any coherent thought vanished as Tommy wrapped his arm around Buck's waist, pulling him closer as he returned the kiss. It was as chaste of a kiss as it was in his apartment, but it made Buck melt into the embrace. His hand instinctively reached for Tommy’s bicep, feeling the firm muscle beneath the hoodie. He could taste the coffee Tommy drank on his lips, the smell of his cologne hitting Buck’s senses and sending a pleasant shiver down his back. A smile broke out on Tommy’s face as he parted his lips and leaned into the kiss more.

Momentarily, Buck forgot they were in the parking lot, so consumed by the feeling of Tommy. He almost whined as the man finally pulled away, instinctively trying to reach for Tommy’s lips again.

Reopening his eyes, Buck watched as a grin spread across Tommy’s face, his eyes smoldering with intensity.

“You are something else, Evan,” Tommy murmured, his tone filled with adoration.

The tips of Buck's ears burned, and he ducked shyly at the compliment.

“Have a good shift,” Buck smiled coyly. “And call me.”

With a chuckle and a promise of a call later, they separated. Buck slowly made his way to his jeep, a stupid grin plastered on his face and excitement cursing through his veins

———-

[jazztag]

An Encounter in the Snow X

Hero steps inside Weapon’s cell twice that day. The second time, however, he’s carrying a bunch of items. Weapon greets him with his trademark grin, remaining silent as usual. He traces circles on the cold concrete floor with his index finger, a habitual motion.

"Okay," Hero states, kneeling in front of his prisoner and placing the items beside him on the floor. Weapon glances at the pile, but Hero quickly refocuses his attention. "Vicci," He says, clasping two fingers together. Weapon meets his gaze, his eyes as dead and cold as ever. The Captain can’t help but feel a sense of dread, almost as if he’s being devoured by the monster’s gray eyes. Trying to maintain his usual calm and firm demeanor, Hero crosses his arms to keep himself from instinctively reaching for his gun. At least the dog responds to his name — that’s a good sign.

"I guess I’ve proven that weapons like you can stay fully functional even after three days without food or water," Hero observes, studying his prisoner. "A normal soldier would have perished by the fourth day, but you look like you could walk out of here just fine."

Weapon doesn’t seem to understand a word Hero is saying, but the Captain doesn’t care. Talking to this beast as if it were human makes him feel less afraid. Vicci has a habit, it seems, of smiling wider when he doesn’t understand something. At least he appears curious and responsive.

"I was going to test my theory by waiting a full week, but that seems counterproductive now," Hero continues, rummaging through the pile of items he brought. He finally finds a small paper-wrapped thing-y and hands it to Vicci, who sniffs it cautiously. Hero then places a bottle of water in front of his prisoner and points to the two items, saying simply, "Food."

Weapon sniffs the sandwich again, warily.

"It’s not poisoned, come on," Hero says, unwrapping the sandwich for him. As he does so, his hand brushes against Weapon’s, causing Hero to recoil slightly, unnerved by the contact. Vicci, on the other hand, smiles at the unwrapped bread. "Food. It’s food. Eat," Hero instructs.

Weapon looks from the sandwich to Hero. "E-ats," he repeats, then looks back at the food. "Fo-ood."

Hero crosses his arms again, watching closely. Weapon takes a careful bite, seeming to enjoy it. He repeats the word "Food, food," before saying, "Menja"

Hero observes him until he finishes, then gestures for him to drink the water as well. Weapon consumes both the food and water quickly, as if afraid they will vanish if he takes too long. He starts chewing on his fingers, and Hero watches him for a moment longer before crouching down to search through the pile again.

Vicci looks up as Hero hands him a set of clothes. Weapon sniffs the air, smiling, and slowly gets to his feet. The Captain, still holding the clean clothes, flinches slightly when he finds himself eye to eye with his prisoner. They are about the same height. Weapon smiles, his trembling hand gently caressing his coat, now free from mud and leaves, washed and neatly folded.

"Underneath are your pants and shirt," Hero explains, handing him the pile. He watches as Weapon inspects his clothes, clearly unused to having them cleaned. Hero has soaked the dirty garments in water and soap for two days straight, hoping to wash away the grime. On the third day, they had been dried in the sun. Vicci absentmindedly caresses the familiar fabric with his calloused fingers.

"It’s strange," Hero remarks, mostly to himself. The fact that Vicci doesn’t understand him doesn’t bother him. "There’s nothing on these clothes that indicates you work for the enemy. No marks, no flags, no identification... Only the number... six? What does that mean?"

Weapon, meanwhile, has begun dressing himself, struggling a bit with the unbuttoned shirt and the chain around his neck. He doesn’t bother to button it before slipping into the pants. His wounds, still uncleaned and scattered across his torso, are finally hidden beneath the black cotton fabric.

"Your boots and cap will be provided if you ever leave this cell. For now, I didn’t want you sitting around in your underwear the whole time," Hero comments, rolling his eyes. He turns away, unsure whether to give Weapon some privacy. He takes a few steps toward the door, but when he turns back, he once again sees the monster that has haunted him for months in the trenches, now standing in the middle of the cell, still chained by the neck. Vicci stands with his back slightly hunched, his chin almost resting on his chest. His right hand moves frantically over the thick coat, which now smells fresh and clean. His right foot taps lightly on the floor, like a nervous rabbit, and with his other hand, he scratches at his hair, a self-soothing gesture. He looks... complete again. Dressed and in character. Vicci looks up at Hero and smiles, as he always does. This time, though, Hero doesn’t find the smile frightening. Perhaps it’s more content, more genuine.

With that in mind, the Captain cautiously approaches Weapon again. He focuses his gaze on his prisoner’s chest, still a little bloody. He’s decided not to do anything about it, fearing he might lose a hand or two, but he’s not a monster either. He points to what’s left in the pile—some clean bandages and a plate with water and a wet cloth. "I’m not even going to try this time. I don’t want you biting me again," Hero murmurs, still remembering how the animal bit his arm two days ago. Not that it hurts, but.

The Captain backs away toward the shadows near the cell door. Before leaving, he takes one last look at the tool he now calls Vicci. The Weapon stands under the light, hunched, still caressing his clothes. His bare feet are partly hidden under the baggy pants. His silhouette is now covered in gray and black fabric, standing there like a powerful yet restrained shadow. Perhaps it’s because of the heavy chain that still deprives him of freedom. Like a powerful dog lying in the cold field, waiting for its master to bring him food, always on alert.

Vicci’s silhouette is still very slim, moving carelessly as if following his own sense of gravity. His bare feet drag along the concrete, and his bony hands move in strange patterns—sometimes scratching his hair, sometimes his arms or back scars. But he’s relentless, always in motion, even if just a little. The chains jingle softly in the cell. Hero looks at the dog he’s caged, and despite everything, he can’t help but feel a growing sense of pity for his prisoner.

Taglist: @whump-blog @bitchaknso @pumpkinsncoffee @scrumpledumple (comment to get added/removed from the list!)

[looniecartooni]

There's a lot of talk about Mimic selfishly being a Diamond Cutter to "reap the rewards" or get riches. Which kind of begs a lot of questions. One- what kind of rewards did a secret volunteer militia hardly anyone know about even have? And two- when has Mimic expressed an interest in riches?

Extremely long post below:

It's no question that Mimic is selfish. He's literally lead people into death traps and left them to die at the hands of Eggman long before he was known to be a stabby octopus. All he practically talked about in Bad Guys was how he wanted to be off Eggman's list and when he was given ONE JOB to guard- he decided to pull his classic "Eggman goes full hog on my former teammates". Just the very idea that Silver could figure him out was enough for him to completely shatter his reputation in a way that fans are continuously angry and divided on. It's no question that this man is willing to save his own skin for his own benefit.

So... what did the OG Diamond Cutters even have that would be considered a reward? Well- again, they are a private army that one would have to do some deep investigating or talk to Whisper about in order to figure out (otherwise the Neo Diamond Cutters probably would not have had their name). There's also a lot that has intentionally been left unexplored either for future writers or because Ian Flynn claims that "they're just a part of Whisper's backstory". That all said- they do have some relatively expensive looking items that I'm sure you would not just find laying around (probably- I'll get back to that).

As we know- they had a base in the middle of the ocean with helicopter landing pads, wispon tools for combat, masks with a lot of cloud recording space and the ability to talk to wispons. And as we can see- they even have a vending machine which can be pretty pricey... and collects money!!! Surely they'd be earning quite a bit for all this- and they are referred to as mercenaries so... someone could be hiring them and paying them, correct?

Well- until you consider that they have Smithy and wisps. Smithy- much like Tails- was the one who made a good majority of the gear that the OG Diamond Cutters used- especially wisp related items. So- who is to say that he couldn't fix up an old vending machine to work as a fridge? Or an old oil rig to act as a base?

Now the timeline between Whisper losing her team and the present is a bit skewed. Whisper doesn't have worn down clothes, but Mimic seemingly does- and the OG Diamond Cutters base looks a bit broken down. The masks inside are still in one piece and functional, suggesting Whisper collected them after the incident and possibly would have kept with the upkeep of the base. Which when you really look at it looks kind of like a couple old storage units or sheds- possibly an old research facility. There do appear to be individual- looking houses that maybe the crew had claimed as their own or used as training facilities, but we unfortunately don't get to see what is inside these to really know what Mimic could have considered prized possessions or what not. Most of what we see later on is actually an empty hallway leading to the meeting room with a vending machine. Again- things could have been cleared out or tampered with, but what the Diamond Cutters seemed to have had mostly are repurposed items and the work of an engineer.

So... what would Mimic really be getting? Was he secretly stashing a bunch of treasure somewhere? Is the man an assassin for funsies and secretly a billionaire from a bunch of different items?

Or rather... what does Mimic like/value besides his own life? We know for sure that he likes his Diamond Cutters uniform even though its practically falling apart. Ian Flynn once said on a Bumblekast said that he had it because he still believes its his (though Evan Stanley could potently change that- who knows).

(sidenote: I just noticed that on this model page, past Mimic has a button on the collar of his poncho, but present doesn't. I have another theory that suggests that this uniform either has the ability to shapeshift adding to the "Smithy made a lot of the DC's stuff" idea or since Mimic can make clothes look damaged, he's actually faking wearing the OG uniform.)

Speaking of- Evan Stanley recently confirmed that Mimic has a specific kind of extreme gear he likes to use.

Mimic has been shown and even claims to be really good with computers, going as far as sporting a smart phone suggesting that maybe he's a bit of a techy. And what did the OG Diamond Cutters have a lot of? Advanced tech! Ones that could talk to and interact with wisps! Which he... gladly traded away for his life and got the creator destroyed- along with the weapons. And when is wisp left him, he seemingly shrugged it off.

Of course- without the wisp, all you mostly have is an advanced video recorder on your face. And he was deciding between his life against a big tech giant and the tech in his eyes. So... outweighed benefits? Still... if he valued the Diamond Cutter technology at all, he probably wouldn't have traded it so easily or seemingly left it at the old base (then again, without a wisp, he'd only have a giant hammer which probably would not be as swift and easy as a knife which he also seems to value. But he has also been seen to be trigger happy with firearms and smiled a big smile when he had that flying power core. But again, we only know that he carries a knife as a weapon of choice). We can likely assume that he hasn't been going back and forth to the old base as Whisper suggest they go there for the final battle, and he asked Eggman for an extreme artillery to basically wipe it all out. So, he either didn't value it enough to possibly obliterate it or it's a touchy memory subject considering how he tends to clam up whenever anyone starts seemingly bringing up the team besides himself.

Mimic tends to be one track minded when it comes to what he wants. To a point where even Starline calls him dense for it. One thing he does seemingly love on top of everything is freedom and lack of attention. He makes sure to tell practically everybody he meets that he doesn't want attention- which is of course mostly due to him not wanting to be on Eggman's radar anymore or going back to jail which reconnects with valuing his own life. Buuut there is something else to consider when you look at how he reacts to different spaces he gets put in as two separate people.

Verses

Now- Mimic is pretending to be someone other than himself here. And this man has no shortage of contradicting himself. It is kind of odd how he hesitates with the idea of getting a whole room with furniture and books and everything to himself. Compared to a room where there is barely a spot to sit. We also see him drinking a lot of boba at the order, suggesting he isn't one to turn down what amenities they have to offer (unless its a part of his image as Duo to drink boba or he's just extremely thirsty as a fish out of water straining muscles to turn into a cat).

But this may put into perspective what Mimic sees as a reward and what might make him extra "I need to literally destroy everyone around me so that I feel safe." The OG Diamond Cutters gave him freedom and cool weapons he could test, possibly a living space with things he could want/need. Having absolutely nothing or possibly dying takes that all away. He'd rather die than have nothing, but he probably would not have died for what he might have considered (or convinced himself) was nothing. It doesn't appear he's particularly attached to anything in particular except the freedom to be able to have access to said things. No matter what or who it cost :'{.

And to expand on this further (because I can't just let a horrid man come off as horrid), this suggests that Mimic has been in a situation where he's felt like he's had absolutely nothing.

Aside from the OG base being located in the middle of the ocean and being Sega's only token sea creature, Mimic has notably been very paranoid about being trapped or killed (understandably by ticking off Eggman and the whole jail thing). He has a history of repeatedly being trapped (likely back when he was a Diamond Cutter and possibly as a present-day assassin, but perhaps there was a time before that as well). And it's been enough to where he prefers death to being trapped... or underestimated- still unclear at this point.

But it's very clear that he doesn't like the idea of there being any liability of him even remotely possibly being trapped (usually leading to the sabotaging of people like Silver or the Bad Guys team- or even his old team) to a point where its all he talks about. Even to Clutch who he is weirdly not outwardly showing signs of suspicion or malice to (to my observation yet) keeps checking in with "are you sure so and so is not going to be a liability? I heard that so and so is a liability."

He could still have feelings of distain towards Clutch or working for him, but Clutch is seemingly giving him what he wants or playing into his interests. Minute Clutch reveals he's been dangling a carrot on a stick, Mimic will probably retreat to his usual habits. Perhaps that's partially why he was willing to even be an OG Diamond Cutter- because the reward of freedom outweighed the torture of being captured. Hence perhaps there was no reward or riches. Just being alive.

And the idea of that being taken away is perhaps the worst kind of torture. One he's willing to expend others for his own benefit. Does he regret it? Well with his OG team, the answer is unclear.