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therosebunpost · 6 months

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So, I woke up this morning with inspiration-

Some warnings: Suggestive bits, Robin is married to a guy named Chad ( not for real though, I just wanted something ridiculous to really snap Steve out of lala land) Stancy but not for long, MDI! Seriously if you don't have an age in your bio or on your blog, I will block you!

Basically it all starts with Steve opening his eyes. He's in that strange state where he's not quite awake, but not asleep either. The house isn't exactly like his, but it also has a few familiar things. The duck theming, the multiple garages, his blue room. There's someone laying beside him, their back turned away. Curly brown hair tickles his nose and he slowly shifts closer to nuzzle into it.

"Steve?"

A hand reaches back, the cool touch of a ring caresses his face and he almost purrs. Nuzzling deeper into the softness while his arms move to wrap around their familiar middle.

"Mornin' Nancy."

She turns around, smiling up at him and tucking some hair away from her face. Her wedding ring shining in the light of the morning. "Morning, love. Come on, let me get some breakfast started before you head to work."

He's still a little dazed as he follows her down the stairs of his home, their home. Nancy is dressed, her hair prim and proper as she starts on some eggs and bacon. She’s a vision, and Steve can’t help but watch her for a second, leaning his head against the wooden door frame. “What time do you head out?” He asks, looking around for her latest article or piece she’s been working on.

“Oh, not today. Already got everything the day before, so I’m just staying home.” She smiles, passing him a tall glass of orange juice. “Though, is there something you want me to pick up at the store for you? I thought I got everything on the list, but I can go again.” Placing down a plate of eggs, she kisses the top of his head and settles down across from him.

“Really? Damn, I hope the paper doesn’t call you in on your day off.” He muses, grabbing a thing of toast and bitting into it.

“Paper? Steve, are you…okay? I haven’t worked at the paper since we got married a year ago.”

Steve blinks, looking up at her. He blinks again, trying to understand where that assumption even came from. “Right, I uh..I’m sorry. I woke up kinda strange this morning.”

“Well, hopefully it clears up during your ride to work. Oh! Here, I packed your lunch and remember to come home on time for dinner, okay? I’m making your favorite and we have guests coming over~” She leans down to kiss his cheek before suddenly he was in the car. His hands on the steering wheel, lunch safely buckled in the side seat.

Rubbing at his temple, Steve slowly drives down the road towards his father’s business. Well, not before stopping abruptly.

There’s a man standing there, in the middle of the road. Messy brown curls rest upon his shoulders, chains glittered in the light, and he was staring at him.

Oh great, of course this happens today.

Steve honks his horn before leaning out the window. “Hey man, look can you move? I’m trying to get to work.”

The guy doesn’t move. “Where do you work?”

“….My dad’s company, you know, Harrington’s?”

“Jesus, really? You seriously picked that?”

Steve narrows his eyes, frowning and honking the horn again. “Seriously, now move okay? I don’t have time for this.”

“You’re already starting to sound like a grumpy old business man. But yeah, your right, you don’t have time, Steve.” The guy finally moves, but he starts coming around to the drivers side. Something glints in his hand and Steve’s heart rate spikes. He ducks into the car, rolls the window up and speeds down the road while the guy flails away to avoid the dust kicking up. Steve watches him stomp the ground in anger through his rear view mirror. “What a freak.”

Work seemed to start and end the second he stepped into the building. He remembers walking through the revolving door and then walking out, the sky a dusty orange instead of blue. He steps out to his car, only to tense when that familiar mop of brown curls greet him. “Get off the hood before I call the police.” He threatens, glaring as the man lounges upon his beemer’s hood like he fucking owns it. “I don’t know what you want from me, man, but you need to leave me the hell alone.”

“Why? Don’t wanna talk?” He counters, not moving. Instead he seems to relax even more, legs widening as he gazes up at Steve with those big brown eyes. “Last time I was like this, you didn’t seem to mind. Like at all.”

Steve swallows thickly, heat creeping up his neck as he looks over the man on his car. Last time? There was a tingle of a memory at the edge of his mind. The buzz of cicadas, curls wrapped up on his fist as he pressed closer to him, heat blooming inside of his chest as they got closer.

He blinks and the memory recedes away, like it was snatched right from his head. “I don’t- I’m married.” He holds up his finger and the man pauses, was that…sorrow in his eyes? It’s gone as soon as it was there, instead replaced with steely determination. “Steve, you need to wake up.”

“What?”

“This…this isn’t real, okay? None of this is real.” Suddenly the man is gripping his arms, almost hard enough to bruise. “It’s some fucked up dream, but it’s not yours. I mean, Jesus man, what a way for him to waste all that time you took figuring out who you were, huh?”

“I’m…I’m Steve, Steve Harrington and who…who the fuck even are you?” Steve pushes him off, pinning him against his car. “What kinda drugs are you on? You need a hospital, dude. I can take you to one, but you need to empty out whatever knife you had in your pocket.”

“Knife?” The man asks, slowly shaking his head. He isn’t even resisting, Steve notes. “It wasn’t- Steve, I know the bottle thing happened but I wasn’t exactly in the best headspace and I’d never hurt you-“

“Stop acting like we know each other! Who are you? Tell me.” Steve shakes him and that’s when the man grips at his wrists, though it was more tender then frightened. “Eddie, my name is Eddie Munson. We do know each other. Really, really well.” Eddie looks up at him, pleading. “Steve, you gotta wake up. Please, we don’t have much time.”

It was all too much. Steve pulls away, shoving Eddie in the process away from his car. “You need to leave.” He points off in the distance. “I dunno what kind of…make believe you’re living in, but I’m married and now I’m gonna go see my wife.” He slips into the car, trying to ignore those sad eyes watching him as he drove back home, shaking.

The rich scent of chicken greets him when he steps inside. Shaking away the events in the parking lot, Steve wraps his arms around Nancy in the kitchen. “I’m home. Smells good.” He murmurs, kissing her cheek. Nancy giggles, batting him away. “Steve! I’m trying to cook! Can you help set the table? Everyone should be here soon.”

As he sets the table, Steve hums a little to himself. Some oldies tune he heard on the way home. “Dream a little dream of me..” He mumbles, swaying to himself as he imagines him dancing with his love. Though did they have blue eyes or brown? Were they in his parents house or a homey trailer, a mug collection slowly being rebuilt in the living room?

“Steve!”

Blinking, Steve jumps back away from the broken pieces at his feet. Something old from his mother’s cabinet, not a mug. “Shit-“ He bends down, gathering it in his hands even if he might get cut. “Are you okay?” Nancy asks, coming closer and crouching down in front of him. Her face twisting at the sight of a cut on his hand. “Oh- ow.” She winces, reaching out to hold it in her hands.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve had worse, remember?” Steve offers, chuckling softly but his expression freezes as Nancy furrows her brows. “What?”

The doorbell rings and they scramble to cone out from beneath the table. “Oh, Dingus, come on-“ Robin comments, rolling her eyes as she pulls a young man behind her. “See? You owe me fifty bucks, I told you they’d be kissing when we got here.” She teases, shaking her head and walking around to look at the glass. “Oh shit- Your mom’s gonna kill you, dude.”

He brightens upon seeing Robin, though he starts to frown when the young man with her curls an arm around her waist. “Hey man, what- What are you doing?”

The guy has the audacity to laugh, pulling Robin close and kissing her cheek. “What, you can kiss your wife under the table and I can’t kiss mine on the cheek?”

What.

Steve looks at Robin, who just smiles up at him as if there wasn’t anything wrong. As if this situation wasn’t utterly ridiculous. “Oh…okay Rob, that’s funny but come on, you can’t think I’m that gullible.”

“Steve?” Nancy comes around, holding his arm. “What’s wrong?”

Steve looks at her, hoping to catch any semblance of being in on some joke, but all he saw was concern in those ice blue eyes. “Well yeah, I mean, Robin’s-“ He stops himself, not wanting to out his friend like that. “Not one to settle down? Yeah, that’s what I thought before I met Chad.” Robin coos, curling into him. Steve has to hold back an incredulous laugh, though really he could feel a pressure behind his eyes.

“Look whatever- Whatever joke you think this is, it’s not funny. You three, that weird guy in the parking lot-“ He’s backing away now, eyes glancing at everyone he knew. Though now they were more like strangers then anything else. “Robin, come on, I’m having a weird fucking day and this is really freaking me out-“

“Steve, dude, your freaking me out.” Robin comes closer, only to jump when he grabs her hand and pulls her into the living room. “Steve! What the fuck is wrong-“

“Is that guy threatening you?” He asks, voice low and deadly serious. “Is that why you won’t tell me? I swear to god, I’ll beat the shit out of him so hard, he’ll never set foot near you ever again-“

“Steve.” Robin hisses, grabbing at his arm. “You’re scaring me, I thought you liked Chad?”

“Who cares about Chad! Fuck Chad. What about you? What about Vicky? You know, the girl you’ve been hopelessly pining over for literally so long?”

Robin blinks, slowly pulling away from him. “Look, when you invited me over, I thought you wanted to tell me you and Nancy are finally starting your family. I don’t even know what…all of this is.” She gestured to him. “So, I’m going back into the dining room to help your wife and my husband set the table. Come back in when you’re not a total mess, okay?”

Steve stands there, alone. His head is pounding and wonders if another migraine is coming on. He can hear their hushed voices in the dining room, and it’s in that moment, he knows he can go in there. That whoever these people were, they aren’t his family.

So he runs. He slips out the back door, jogging through the woods even though he can hear their worried cries behind him. Sure, he should take his car, but he left his key back at the house. Thank god he did though, thank fuck he didn’t drive because then he wouldn’t have stumbled upon the sprawled out body of Eddie Munson against a tree. Blood slipping out of his mouth.

“Oh, fuck-“ He runs closer, kneeling down beside him. “Eddie? What- What the fuck happened?”

The man coughs, lightly shaking his head. “Was…tryin’ to come find you again. Then…he attacked me. God, those vines hurt like a bitch..” He leans back against the tree, allowing the moonlight to show off the jab into his side.

“…You were right.” Steve offers, pulling off his work shirt and wrapping ripped strips around his bleeding middle. “Nancy’s acting weird, Robin married a guy named Chad-“

Eddie’s face twists. “Seriously? Oh, she’s going to murder him when I tell her. Though, figures some crazy killer from the 50s is also a homophobic piece of shit.” He groans as Steve lifts him, his head lulling to the side to rest against his shoulder. “When it was you, I just thought he was tryin’ to cut me out of the picture, but I guess the guy is just shitty.”

“But why? Why cut you out? Are we…really?” Steve starts walking, but he isn’t sure where he’s going. All he knows is that he needs to keep Eddie safe and to stay away from that house as much as possible.

“Yeah, Sunshine. Been together ever since ‘87. It was supposed to be our anniversary…” Eddie sighs, tucking his face against Steve’s neck. “But then he just had to pop out of the ground like the worlds worst Ground Hog, and fuck everything up. I had such a great gift too, was gonna take you on a round trip to all the famous baseball stadiums.”

Steve pauses, cheeks dusting with pink before he starts walking again. “…That sounds great but I still don’t really…get any of this.”

Eddie sighs, curling up more in his arms as they travel aimlessly through the forest. “….It all started in 1986, and Vecna finally decided to show himself..”

——————-

#thebunspeaks #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve stranger things #steddie #eddie munson x steve harrington #eddie stranger things #I dunno what this is exactly #I woke up thinking about Don’t Worry Darling #then I was accosted by visions of this scenario playing out #it’s not beta’d or anything #but I thought it’d be an interesting concept #sorry for the Chad slander

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holydramon · 2 years

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marcy: the prophecy states that we were always destined to come here. was stealing the music box really my own choice? or did the universe dictate my actions? if I did not have us take that box then, would we have somehow ended up here regardless? and what about everything that lead to me deciding to take the box? the moving, our relationship, everything? was it all predetermined? was every hardship I suffered, was everything you two suffered simply destiny? bound to happen no matter what we did? what about our friendship. is it a comfort to know that we were always meant to be together? or is it terrifying? does it imply our emotions are predetermined? even if they are, does it make them any less valid or real? anne. sasha. despite all this, do you still think free will exists? please tell me. because I’m not sure anymore.

anne: look marcy I get you’re having an existential crisis but can it wait until after we stop the moon from falling

#sasha is in the background passed out #anyway I think in actuality marcy is actually probably more excited than horrified by the concept of them having a prophecy about them but #I just think the implications of prophecies are interesting to think about in general but especially interesting in the context of this show #edit: to be clear like. I don’t fully agree with everything I had Marcy say here about the implications of prophecies and free will I just #thought it’d be funny for marcy to just question it so intensely #like the implications of prophecies and fate are interesting but I think there’s more nuance/it’s more complex than simply ‘free will #doesn’t exist’ or anything like that…#idk figured I should make that clear though. this is at it’s core just meant to be a silly joke post and not an actual analysis lmao #amphibia spoilers #dramon thoughts

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unfinishedslurs · 1 year

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aware of his bisexuality steve (steddie, buckingham)

“Is that a hickey?” Comes out of Steve’s mouth without permission. But there it is, bright purple and red against the slope of her neck. She’s been walking kind of funny this morning, too. He’d assumed her period came early, but… “Rob, did you—“

Eddie fumbles the coffee mug he was pulling down. Chrissy freezes, face turning white with fear. Robin whips around, face bright red, and slaps a hand over her neck.

“Bathroom!” She yelps. “Bathroom now!”

“Wait,” Eddie says, setting the mug down with trembling hands. “It was me. Sorry, man.”

Steve stares at him, unimpressed. Why the fuck would he lie about—

He looks at Chrissy again, who takes a nervous step back, and it clicks.

“Right,” he says, nodding quickly. “You. You gave Robin a hickey. Had totally awesome sex that she didn’t even tell me about.” He directs that last bit at Robin pointedly. He told her almost immediately when he lost his guy-ginity. Traitor. “Yep. Sure. Got it.”

Eddie blinks, confused. Robin buries her face in her hands.

“Oh my god, calm down,” she groans. “That’s not going to work. Steve’s cool.”

“Cool?” Chrissy asks, still looking ready to bolt.

“Super cool,” he assures her. “The coolest. So incredibly cool, even if my best friend didn’t even tell me when she lost her virginity.”

“Steve!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says. “But I am going to need details, Buckley. We can go over what worked, and what needs more oomph.”

“Oh my god, can we talk about this anywhere else,” Robin groans, at the same time Eddie asks, “What, so you can get off on it later?”

“What,” Steve says.

“You think two girls are hot, is that it?” He’s got a sneer on his face now, but Steve’s more observant than Dustin gives him credit for. Even if he wasn’t, it’d be hard to miss how hard his hands are shaking, the nervous tilt to his mouth.

“Ew.” Steve’s face screws up. “Dude, no. It’s Robin.”

“Hey, fuck you,” Robin breaks in, from where she’s started comforting Chrissy. “You thought I was hot for at least a summer.”

His mouth drops open in betrayal. “We agreed to never talk about that again!”

“Can’t help being sexy,” she coons. Chrissy giggles wetly. “You wanna get married, Harrington? Have my babies? Stay home and raise six little nuggets while I bring home the bread?”

“I hate you,” he informs her. “Hate you so much. We’ll have a nice, heterosexual wedding and share a sad, heterosexual kiss, and you’ll carry me over the threshold of our nice, heterosexual house, and we’ll have boring, heterosexual sex that gives us nice, heterosexual babies, because we are so heterosexual and happy in our suburburban house in our nice little heterosexual town.”

He’s honestly kind of proud of himself for saying heterosexual so many times. Usually he fumbles words with that many syllables, especially after that many times in a row.

Chrissy is outright laughing, now, endearing little snorts making their way between giggles. Eddie is looking between them like they’re a puzzle he can’t piece together. Robin grins.

“I’ll cuck you with the secretary.”

“Not if I cuck you first. You’ll be away all day in that office of yours, and I need someone big and strong to carry all the new furniture I ordered.”

“I knew it! I knew Timmy wasn’t mine!”

“Oh, but I couldn’t help myself,” he swoons. “Mark was just so sweet, with his bulging biceps and hand flexes, all hot and sweaty from helping poor little me while you were away! You know I’m weak to curly hair and brown eyes, Rob, how’s a man supposed to resist?”

“Fag,” she says, not without affection.

“Dyke,” he shoots back.

“Cocksucker.”

“Carpet—“

“Okay,” Eddie breaks in, clapping his hands. He and Robin both startle, and so does Chrissy from where she’s been watching them like a particularly interesting tennis match. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Robin lost her virginity and didn’t even tell me,” Steve says immediately, like he’s tattling to the principal.

“Steve doesn’t seem to understand the concept of waiting,” Robin retorts.

“I told you when I had gay sex,” he whines, and Eddie chokes. “I hate you. See if I ever give you tips again.”

“Oh, is that what you meant?” Chrissy asks. “Please don’t stop. They were good tips.”

Robin flushes all the way down to her toes.

“You like boys?” Eddie wheezes.

“Oh,” Steve blinks. “Yeah? I thought you knew.”

“You thought I—how would I know?”

The fuck is that supposed to mean? Steve’s been flirting with him for months!

“Robin always says we can sense each other! You sensed her.”

“You told him?” Eddie’s mouth drops open, and Robin looks sheepish.

“She didn’t have to,” Steve snarks. “You’re flagging in Hawkins, man. Was I supposed to miss it?”

“You know what flagging is?”

“Again, in case you missed it, I fuck men.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters. “Fuck! Christ, I can’t believe this. You’re, like, the epitome of heterosexual. I spent half of high school having to hear about how much pussy you were getting. Why are you not straight?”

“Wow, Eddie,” he deadpans. “Are you saying just because I like men and woman, I’m not queer enough? That’s kind of homophobic of you, man.”

“Yeah, Eddie, wow,” Robin says. “I thought you were better than this.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie says. “I feel like I need to lie down. My entire worldview just shattered.”

“I have a couch?” Chrissy offers shyly. “Or a bedroom, if you need a minute away.” Fuck, Steve kind of adores her. Especially since she’s apparently vicious n bed, if the five other hickies he counts just from Robin bending down a little to whisper in her ear are any indication. Good for her.

“Don’t worry, Eddie,” Robin says, with a glint in her eye that means he’s either going to love or hate what comes next. “If it helps, Steve’s never fucked a man in his life.”

Eddie’s brow furrows, looking between the two of them. “So…you’re just making fun of me?”

He looks a little angry now, and Steve can’t make heads or tails of this conversation because, “What the hell, Rob, yes I have—“

“Oh, so suddenly you’re the one doing the fucking?”

“Stop making fun of me for taking it!”

Eddie lets out an honest to god moan that he immediately slaps his hand over his mouth to cover up. “Right,” he says fervently. “Okay. I need to lie down, like, for real.”

They watch him stride down the hall, so fast he’s almost running, and slam the door closed behind him.

“I could totally top,” he mutters to Robin as something that sounds vaguely like muffled screaming echoes down the hall. “I top girls all the time. It’s not my fault prostates are a gift from God.”

“Uh, you top because all the girls you fuck are from small town Indiana. If one of them brought out the strap you’d drop to your knees so fast—“

“That’s—I like topping!”

“Your favorite position is cowgirl. Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

“I will show Chrissy your baby pictures,” he hisses. Robin makes a face at him. Chrissy nods excitedly from where she’s still tucked under Robin’s arm.

“Oh what’s that?” Robin practically shouts. “You like being pressed against walls and ravished? You want someone to tie you up and have their filthy way with you? Is that what you said, Steve?”

Another noise from the bedroom. He narrows his eyes at her. “What are you doing?”

“Helping,” she says sweetly. “You’re both hopeless.”

“I told you he’s shy!”

“Eddie?” Chrissy asks. “Shy?”

“Yeah, okay, I was confused too, but I figured it was the romance! He told me he hasn’t actually been in a relationship before, I assumed he was nervous to take that step.”

“Yeah, but dingus,” Robin says sweetly. “You’re missing a puzzle piece here. He thought you were straight. He thought he was flirting with his straight best friend he didn’t have a chance in hell with, and then he finds out that said best friend likes taking it up the ass and men with brown eyes.”

“Oh,” Steve says, realization dawning. “Oh, fuck. What if he doesn’t like me like that?”

Robin smacks the back of his head. “Why are you stupid?”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Chrissy says. “Like, really don’t have to worry about that.”

“I’m not coming over tonight,” Robin says. “I’m gonna stay with Chrissy again. Er…if that’s okay?”

“That sounds amazing.” Chrissy beams, and Robin turns red again.

“Yeah, I’m going to stay with Chrissy again tonight. You are going to invite Eddie to stay the night when he gets done with his little crisis, and then we’re getting lunch at the diner tomorrow and you can tell me about it before our shift.”

“Right,” Steve says. “Right, I can do this. I’ve invited guys over before, how hard can it be? It’s just Eddie. But that was hotel rooms, not my house and my bedroom with my shitty wallpaper. And it’s Eddie. Fuck, what if I’m shit at it? Robin, what if I’m actually bad at sex and everyone who’s ever said I was good was lying because they didn’t want to hurt my feelings? Oh my god, I’m totally bad at sex.”

“Woah, dingus, slow down. I think we took the mind meld too far, you’re turning into me.”

“If it helps, I don’t think you’re bad at sex,” Chrissy says. Steve and Robin look at her, and she flushes. “Because of the tips! Not because—I’ve never slept with you, but some of my friends did, and I got three orgasms out of last night, so…”

“Oh thank God,” he breathes. “I was worried for a minute.” Then he raises an eyebrow at Robin, and holds out his hand for a high five. She slaps it, begrudgingly proud of herself, and then takes the hand to pull him into a headlock that’s honestly more of a hug than anything.

“You’re fine,” she whispers in his ear. “You’re great at sex, as you keep telling me. What’s more, you’re funny, charming, handsome, brave, caring—“

“Aww, Robin, are you getting sappy on me?”

“Plus Eddie literally moaned in front of you when he found out you bottomed. I really don’t think there’s a way to fuck that up.”

Steve grins. “He did do that. I’m going to make so much fun of him later.”

“So,” Eddie says with a smirk, “men with brown eyes?”

“Hey man, don’t look at me. Blame Jonathan.”

Now Eddie looks stunned, mouth dropping open. “Byers?” He says, sounding betrayed. “You have a crush on Byers of all people?”

Steve feels offended on Jonathan’s behalf. “What’s that supposed to mean? Jonathan’s a good guy!”

“I guess.”

“What do you mean you guess? He’s sweet, passionate, good with kids, nice eyes. Can pack a punch. I mean, what’s not to like?”

“Uh, didn’t he steal your girlfriend?”

He waves that off. “That was, like, years ago, man. We’re cool now.”

“Right, okay,” Eddie mutters. “Well have fun with Byers, I guess.”

It clicks. “Oh,” he says. “Oooh. You’re jealous.”

Eddie splutters. “Jealous? I’m not—I don’t—you’re jealous!”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes,” Eddie says resolutely, not looking at him.

“Right,” Steve agrees. “Well, if I am jealous, maybe I should know that I got over Jonathan years ago, and have since moved on to brighter, hopefully more attainable pastures than my ex’s ex.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“A different man with brown eyes?” He suggests. “Who is also good with kids, and passionate, and…” he trails off, suddenly realizing all those times Robin made fun of him might not be based on nothing. “Oh my god, I have a type. Shit, I have to tell Robin she was right.”

“I figured that was a common occurrence.”

“Shut up. Where was I going with this? I had a point.”

“You were telling me how awesome I am?”

“Oh, suddenly it’s you we’re talking about?”

“I mean,” suddenly Eddie looks shy, and Steve can’t help but think even with the change in context he might have been right when he told Robin Eddie was nervous about being in a real, romantic relationship, “isn’t it?”

He feels himself smile, slow and wide and probably more revealing than he means it to be. “Yeah,” he says, in a tone he knows Robin would call soppy, “it is.”

#technically all my bi steve fics have him aware he'd bi but for the purpose of naming we'll call it that #aware of his bisexuality steve au #i am ALWAYS jonathan was steve's awakening truthing #steddie #buckingham #i think that's their ship name?#eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #accidental outing #i'm not really a bottom steve truther but i thought it would be funny for this #stranger things fanfic

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dollfaceksj · 6 months

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still don’t know my name | jjk (m) MASTERLIST

➥ banner by: @archivedkookie.

➥ PAIRING: jungkook x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: In which your annoying neighbor—that you can’t stand—turns out to be the person behind the online account you’ve been sexting. You still don’t know his name.

➥ COLLAB CONCEPT: @hoseokieswrld and I came up with this prompt and thought it’d be interesting if we both took it and each wrote our own version of it. Both versions have a different plot line so be sure to check out Eli’s version too!

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ cybersex ⋆ enemies

➥ CATEGORY: mini three-shot

➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, sexting, pornography, strong language, exchanging nude photos, cybersex, brat!reader, brat tamer!jk, hard kinks (slapping, spitting, hairpulling, choking) hidden identities, minors DNI

➥ TOTAL WORDCOUNT: 29k

➥ STATUS: completed

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

CONCEPT VIDEO:

©dollfaceksj // edited by me

song: labrinth – still don’t know my name

— i n d e x ↓

♢ still don’t know my name ; TEASER

♢ still don’t know my name pt. 1 — “nice panties”

♢ still don’t know my name pt. 2 — “gameboy”

♢ still don’t know my name pt. 3 — “game on”

— e x t r a s ↓

♢ ✄��

➸ cross-posted to ao3.

➸ cross-posted to wattpad.

➸ support me by buying me some coffee if you want ☕︎♡

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mondaymelon · 5 months

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₊˚ෆ 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓, 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔? | lyney, neuvillette, wriothesely x gn!reader

ˋ°•*⁀➷ cw: established relationship, fluffity fluff !! art by @/puna_822 on twitter, edited by me!

⤷ shh!! secret relationships with the fontaine men ₊˚ෆ

— Lyney will keep the secret well, of course. He’s a jack of all trades, and a little bit of misconception is nothing taxing for someone who can trick the eye with just a simple swipe of his hands.

…Though, his personality often brings much more to deal with behind the scenes. His every action is designed as a ruse, trying to draw any and every reaction from you - whether it be making you irritated as can be or practically burning from his smooth words. He’ll at the red on your face with a light smirk gracing his lips. “Embarrassed, now, are we? Mhm, best wipe it off your face though, lest anyone find out~”

Dealing with the magician was a headache. A delightful one, but painful nonetheless. He has a habit of saying whatever he wants, and it doesn’t help that he’s so good at it too. His tongue can twist poems out of thin air, or pickup lines at the drop of a hat. The number of times Lynette had glanced over at you with a concerned gaze was far more than you could count, and it would be only a matter of time before another carefully crafted sentence sent the entire mirage into collapse. The two of you had only decided to keep your relationship private in the first place due to work affairs. It’d just make things more frustrating if people were aware of the connection. In earlier weeks, you had tried to confront the man about the entire predicament, but he had only laughed it off with a shrug of his shoulders and a jesting beam.

“Oh, don’t tell me that the words I tell you every day still make you so flustered? Archons, you really are a hopeless romantic, aren’t you? Although, for you, I suppose I’m no different…”

When Freminet had eventually voiced his worries, gently holding your hands and saying, “A-Are you okay? Your face is really red, are you sick? Should I walk y-you home?”, there was no other choice but to shake your head, cover your flushed cheeks as best you could with a hand, and tell a blatant lie that there was nothing out of the ordinary.

There most certainly was, and it was the cat-like man who stood off to the side, a sly smirk on his face and one of his eyes closed in a wink. Not helping, Lyney.

When would the day come for you to be the one to make him flustered? Perhaps it was sooner than you thought, on his opening night for the new season. You weren’t sure if he had expected to see you in the crowd, but as he was performing his wonderous tricks, eyes sweeping over the hundreds present, his shimmering lilac eyes locked onto yours. His professional smile stretched a little wider, and as he pulled a dove out of his hat with a flourish of his arms, beamed. The astonished look on your face was something he’d be sure not to forget.

As soon as the lights dim onstage, he hurries off of it, giving Lynette a quick farewell and combing back his unruly hair with his fingers. He spots you standing by the exit, holding… a bouquet of roses in your arms? They were a beautiful sight, yet paled in comparison to how ethereal you looked in the moment, the spotlights afar illuminating your face with a glow and your eyes sparkling with delight. This always happens when the two of you are alone - he’ll switch from verbal affection to physical, and this time is no exception. He sweeps you into his arms, slotting his lips against yours as he pulls you into a deep kiss that leaves you breathless and red. However, this time, the blush dusting your cheeks is not only on your face but his, as he takes the flowers in his arms with a bright smile.

“For me, love? Come now, I can’t possibly keep how good we are together from everyone else, can I?” ₊˚ෆ

— Neuvillette is… an interesting case. For starters, he’s baffled at the concept of keeping the relationship a secret. Elaborate that you don’t want to ruin his reputation as a perfect, just, and stone-cold judge, and he’ll oblige… reluctantly. He still doesn’t understand - just why can’t he show you how much he loves you in public?

For now, he’ll have to chalk it up as more human affairs that he’s deemed too complicated to figure out. Ground rules have been laid out - no mentioning the relationship, no telling anyone either… not even the melusines, which was a fair case, since they’d be sure to spread the news faster than wildfire. The mortal realm is far more puzzling than it seems, he concludes somberly. An unfamiliar world that was arduous to coexist in. It’ll be alright, though, as long as he can intertwine his fingers with yours and look into your eyes and-

“N- Sir Neuvillette… not here!” You chide quietly, slowly withdrawing your hand from his. His face falls into an instant, brows furrowing. He’ll bite his tongue, for your sake, and remain silent, yet his fingers twitch. Archons, his hands feel so much better when they’re in yours. The man watches with dejected eyes as you whip your head around anxiously, before gesturing for Neuvillette to bend down. He complies, and matches himself to your height, yet immediately pauses any motion as soon as he feels your lips brush against his forehead. You brush a stray lock of his behind his reddened ears, a grin curving on your lips.

“Don’t be too disappointed, okay? I don’t want it to rain on my way back home~” You beam slyly as you lean away, witnessing Neuvillette’s expression undergo several stages - downcast, shocked, flustered… and then a small smile graces his expression.

“I’ll see you when I get home. Don’t wait up for me. The case might run late.” Neuvillette chuckles to himself, straightening his posture as he softly pinches your cheek, laughing at the way you begin to pout. It’s something the melusines told him to do, and he’s glad he listened - your face is soft, and he has to hold himself back from kissing you. He can hear people around the corner, their voices growing closer. “Get home safe.”

“Love?” Whenever the dragon enters home, he’ll call you by the name he’s unable to call you anywhere else - something he loathes with a burning sensation in his chest. “Are you…” His voice fades as he sees you curled up on the couch, eyes closed and chest slowly rising and falling with every breath. Had you tried to stay up for him? Cute. He takes you in his arms and brings you to the bedroom, carefully arranging the pillows and blankets around your sleeping form. You stir in your state, lids slowly fluttering open as you stare at the man above you with drowsy eyes.

“Neuvi?” The use of his nickname makes his heart flutter. It’s utterly incomparable to what you call him at work, “Sir Neuvillette.” Too rigid. You giggle at the sight of him, still half-asleep, and cup his face in your hands. “Welcome home… did I fall asleep? Ah, I’m sorry, I guess I was too tired…?”

The smile on his face won’t leave.

Yes, moments like these allowed him to continue this strange human practice.

He places his hands on yours, reveling in your warmth.

“Sleep, love.” ₊˚ෆ

— Wriothesley’s used to being professional. If he wasn’t, his work would be a lifetime more demanding than it was at the moment - although, perhaps even that’d be easier than keeping himself away from you until watchful eyes are no longer present.

He’s touchy whenever he’s with you. He likes leaning into your figure, even if you’re shorter than him, just to take in the way you embrace him back, but he loves the feeling of your fingers with his even more. It makes him feel… giddy, light, like he could drift away with the slightest breeze.

And that’s an issue. In order for you to remain safe, he’ll have to stay hushed about you being his lover. He’s made enemies, that much is natural. Of course, he’ll comply with your wishes to keep the relationship private. You could tell him to eat dirt and he’d do just that. Things like that are second nature now. Before, he had no trouble lasting weeks, or months in the Fortress of Meropide at once. After all, there was no driving incentive to head back to the city of Fontaine other than greeting the melusines, dropping off official papers, or, his guilty pleasure, ordering bags upon bags of tea from the mainland, so that he’d have more than enough to drink at the fortress. Now that you were here, however, how could he possibly stay away longer than a few days? If your hands in his were what made him float away, your smile brought him back, with a racing heart in his chest and a smile spread across his features. He’d give the world to see your smile, since it was his world. A single laugh from you would cause the background to fade to white, and rouse his heart and face into a flustered mess.

The prisoners notice a difference. Of course, they don’t know who this mysterious person the duke is seeing, but all they know is that they’re certainly working wonders. On miraculous, wondrous days, they'll even catch a glimpse of a smile on his face while he’s sitting at his desk, sifting through paperwork. As time passes, the news only grows more widespread, eventually reaching the ears of the ludex himself. It’s true, there is an apparent change - one that he captures on the duke’s more frequent visits to land. For a while, fables and tales of Wriothelsey’s mysterious lover spread throughout the city from ear to ear in hushed, excited whispers.

He’ll tease you about it, of course, but he’s really just rather intrigued. Has he really changed that much after meeting you? He doesn’t think so, but he wouldn’t put it past himself. “Darling, darling…” He repeats your petname when you don’t immediately react. “Darling, c’mon…” He can feel the pout creeping on his lips.

“Impatient, are we, Wrio?” You sigh as you turn away from your work, and his icy eyes light up in an instant. You stroke your hand through his hair gently, carding your fingers through the soft, dark strands, and you can see the way Wriothelsey simply melts under your touch. “You’ve been seeking me quite often these days, haven’t you?”

Maybe he has changed. Staring up at you with half-lidded eyes and a smile playing on his lips, feeling his ears warm, perhaps that conjecture has been solidified as the truth.

“Is it so wrong to wish for you, darling?”

(a/n) ngl i kinda hate this fanfic. everything about it. everyone seems so ooc and the prompt is barely even mentioned ew ew ew not my best work by far please dont tell me writers block is coming back i hate that big bad scary thing

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife

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perlelune · 2 months

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Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | iii.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

“So what’s your deal?” Festus Creed asks out of the blue.

Your mouth opens in shock, a nervous laugh slipping out. “My deal?”

A mocking sneer twists his features. “Yeah, Coriolanus kept trying to get you to eat with us but you were being weird about it. If you hate us, just say so.”

While some snigger at the table, Coriolanus stares daggers at him. The mirth instantly vanishes from Festus’ face.

Clemensia bumps her elbow into his rib, chiding him, “Festus, come on,”

“I don’t…hate anyone,” you defend, your voice hardly above a whisper.

Clemensia flashes you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, you don’t. Coriolanus said you’re very sweet.”

Livia rolls her eyes.

“Ugh, whatever. Can we get back to discussing the Yuletide Ball?”

Surprise flutters through you. The name bears vague familiarity. It can be found in the archives detailing the history of the Capitol University. But it’d since long become a frivolity amidst concerns such as quelling the uprisings in the Districts. What’s a students’ dance in the face of war and famine?

“The Yuletide Ball? I thought this was an abolished tradition…I mean since the war.”

Excitement illuminates Livia’s face.

“We’re bringing back the tradition this year, thanks to Coriolanus here. He convinced the new dean.”

Coriolanus lowers his head in apparent humbleness.

“I just made a few good points and he couldn’t refuse me,” he shares. He turns to you, blue eyes sparkling. “I’m pretty persuasive when I need to be.” A chill dances through you at his low, suggestive tone.

To your relief, his attention switches to the rest of the table.

“It’s important to not let District scum ruin our way of life. Traditions must return.”

Livia smirks. “Spoken like a student body president.”

Coriolanus waves a dismissive hand but a hint of smugness lingers in his tone as he says, “Please, elections are only in a month.”

“And it’s obvious you’ll win,” Clemensia states.

He gives a light shrug.

“We shall see.”

Clemensia pivots to you.

“Ivy, Liv and I are on the Ball committee,” she preens, her face brightening. “You could join us if you want.”

You lick your lips. “I don’t know if I’d find the time with midterms coming up soon…”

Coriolanus’ fingertips graze your arm as he offers, “You should do it, angel. It’d be a good way to expand your social circle.”

“You mean her nonexistent circle,” Festus gibes.

The blond’s jaw clenches.

“Talk to her like that again and see what happens, Creed.”

Festus cowers, nervousness flickering on his face. He clears his throat.

“Sorry,” he says to you.

“It’s fine.”

Coriolanus’ fingers latch around your wrist as his steely gaze cuts into Festus.

“No, it’s not fine,” he articulates.

Undisturbed by the altercation between the boys, Clemensia prattles on about the ball.

“We meet up every Saturday morning. We’re working on winter-themed decorations right now. It’ll be so fun. It takes forever to do though.” She looks at you with emphasis. “An extra set of hands would be really welcome.”

“Clemensia…”

“Call me Clemmie,” she interrupts. “All my friends do.”

Friends? You study her hand clasped around yours. The concept is a little foreign to you. You also ponder why someone like Clemensia, with her perfect silky mane and smooth, blemish-free face would want to befriend you. She is the girl everyone gravitates towards. Charismatic, smart and nice to boot. And you might as well be a fly on a wall, ignored on the best days.

You are so stunned that it takes a shamefully long time for the words to fall back on your tongue.

“Clemmie, I’m usually busy on Saturday.”

“Oh.” She deflates, her hold on your hand loosening. “I get it. Sorry I asked.”

The excitement on her face plummets. Immediately, you feel terrible. You’ve never missed a single Saturday of studying, using that time to break down your more complicated courses of the week. But Clemmie looks crestfallen.

Perhaps, this one time, you can adjust your plans a little. One Saturday won’t make a difference in the entire year.

“But…I can try to free up some time,” you offer.

She perks up with your response.

“Great. We’ll be expecting you then.”

Lunch then proceeds, the table resuming the lively debate they were having before you showed up. Festus maintains facts about his family’s role in the reconstruction after the war while Clemensia rolls her eyes. They go back and forth and you observe them, slightly fascinated by the exchange. It’s such a rare occurrence for you to be around others that you soak every bit of their interaction. You get the inkling this happens a lot between them, them ruffling each other’s feathers. Ivy and Livia get wrapped in their own secret conversation you don’t catch a single word of. Meanwhile, Coriolanus watches all of them, taking a bite of the food on his plate every once in a while. The way he eats is slow, nonchalant, almost like he couldn’t care less what’s on his plate. Even if he doesn’t interject at any point, he looks right at home at this table. Unlike you. You recline into silence, letting every minute fly by as you wait for lunch to be over. When it finally is, relief surges inside you.

You mumble a quick goodbye and gather your things. Clemensia beams and waves at you while the others barely acknowledge your departure.

You head for the hallways, trying not to allow your mind to linger on the strange, uncomfortable lunch. Still, your mind swirls. You curse yourself for every blunder and awkward moment. You told him you don’t belong, that you’re an outsider, and always will be. It’s painfully obvious. From the way you dress, talk, carry yourself, you have nothing in common with girls like Clemensia or Livia. There’s a vast chasm between you and them. He should have listened. It astounds you that you even let yourself get roped into joining Clemensia’s committee thing. Though perhaps that won’t be too much of a hassle. You’ll show up to keep your word, then sink back into your rigid study routine.

Coriolanus’ deep voice, a sound you’re now oddly familiar with, erupts behind you.

“Let me carry those for you,” he says, swiping the books in your arms before you can protest. He falls in pace with you, a gentle expression decorating his handsome face.

You frown, the uncanny emptiness of your arms swelling your discomfort.

“You don’t have to-”

“I insist,” he interrupts, chuckling lightly when you try to reach for your books and he dodges you with ease. Your shoulders sag. Your strides hasten, an urgency limning your steps now.

Coriolanus meets no issue with your escalating cadence. He easily keeps up with you, a subtle hint of mirth lurking in his cobalt gaze.

“It wasn’t too much, was it?” he inquires. “I know they can be a lot but they’re all good people. I promise.”

A myriad of words weigh heavy on your tongue but you diplomatically swallow each, settling for a safe, innocuous remark.

“Clemmie was nice.”

The corners of the blond’s lips quirk skyward.

“I told you she was.”

The statement hovers between the two of you for a while. Clemensia seems nice indeed. The rest of his friend group…perhaps a little less so. Possibly a bit more cutthroat and self-absorbed. Though you surmise it is a requirement to be a member of Panem’s elite.

No other word is traded between you and him as you make your way to the lecture hall.

“This is me,” you announce.

You turn to Coriolanus, hands stretching towards your books. He makes no move to give them back. Your forehead creases.

He gives you a sluggish once-over before offering, “What if I drove you back home after your classes?”

You nibble your bottom lip, dismayed by his proposition. You’ve caught glimpses of his fancy new car, as you’re sure most have at the University. As heir apparent to the Plinth fortune, he gets to spend money as he likes.

“I usually walk. It’s okay.”

He gets a little closer. “Come on, angel. Just let me do something nice for you.”

You shrink until your back hits the wall, stunned when Coriolanus follows each of your steps.

“My last lecture is…Professor Bellweather tends to ramble,” you mumble, his proximity unnerving you. “I don’t…I don’t know when he’ll be done.”

He licks his lips.

“I’ll just wait for you, angel.”

He utters the words like it’s obvious. You gawk at him. It takes you a few minutes to retrieve your speech.

You scratch your arm, your frown accentuating.

“You really don’t have to. Like I said, walking home is fine.”

The gaze trained on your form sharpens.

“And I’m offering to take you home so you don’t have to exert yourself.” He bends over you, invading the already insufficient space between the two of you. “Has a friend never done something like that for you?”

“N-No,” you admit.

His tone’s heavy with suggestion as he rasps, “So let me be your first then, angel.”

Your heart stumbles inside your chest.

“I’m gonna be late for class,” you blurt out, attempting to brush past him.

Coriolanus’ hand darts out, swiftly cinching around your wrist to stop you from leaving.

“I still don’t have an answer,” Coriolanus says.

You glance from his hand, tight around your wrist, to his determined gaze. Your throat goes dry.

“Okay, you can d-drive me back home.”

He releases your wrist and returns your books, a smile ghosting over his lips.

“Wonderful. I’ll come get you later, angel.”

Clutching your books against your chest, you watch him glide away.

As promised, Coriolanus is waiting for you when you exit from your last class. You don’t even think to hide your shock as you find the blond leaning against the wall. A smirk unfans on his lips, your reaction seeming to amuse him.

He doesn’t say much to you as you walk side by side and head to his car. When you’re outside, he surprises you by opening the passenger door for you before you can even lift a hand.

“T-Thanks,” you stammer. You plop down on the plush seat. The leather smells new and expensive.

Your nerves thrum as he takes the driver’s seat and starts the car. You’ve never been alone in a car with a boy before. Uneasy, you let your eyes roam outside the window. The Capitol’s high buildings blur past you rapidly.

You’re lost in your thoughts when you notice the prickling sensation over your flesh, The burning, unwavering weight of Coriolanus Snow’s scrutiny.

Your head whirls.

Bashful words quake through your lips.

“Do I have something on my face?” Your hands reach to touch it, just in case.

He chuckles.

“No,” he replies, shrugging. “It’s a nice face that’s all.”

The casual compliment sends a wave of heat through your body.

“Can you drive?” he asks, curiosity lighting his features.

You shake your head. Getting your license has never been a priority. Besides, it’s only a thirty minute walk to get to the University. You don’t mind it, often using that time to sneak in some reading.

“No.”

“I could drive you if you like,” he offers, his gaze holding yours. “Anywhere you want to go.”

Your cheeks warm. “I’m okay.”

Coriolanus nods, his focus shifting back to the road.

“You always say that…” He hums low in his throat. “I’m just not sure I believe it, angel.”

You’re so nervous the entire drive that you don’t even notice when he arrives at your house. You stare at him, mouth agape. You haven’t given him a single instruction on how to get there.

“You know where I live?”

As he opens the door for you, Coriolanus simply replies, “You told me earlier.”

Your brows furrow. You don’t remember telling him but his tone harbors no doubt. You rummage through your brain, seeking the moment. Nothing comes up and you grow confused.

You blink up at him.

“I-I did?”

“Yes, you did, angel.” He snorts as if your line of questioning is beyond ludicrous. “How else would I know?” He slams the door of the car as you rise. “Besides…Dr. Gaul is my mentor. Of course, I know where she lives.”

You nod. That makes sense and it didn’t even occur to you.

“I…”

He cocks his head. “What?”

You fidget beneath his stare, discomfort flaring in the pit of your stomach.

“Nothing. Thanks for driving me home.”

He flashes you a wide smile.

“My pleasure. See you soon, angel.”

He starts the car and drives away. You don’t feel quite at ease until his car’s gone from view, heading towards the Corso.

Walter zooms across the room as soon as you enter the large apartment. Your eyes wander about. As usual, the place is empty besides you and Walter. Mother rarely spends any time here nowadays, her work occupying all of her time.

Walter rubs his furry head against your ankle, twirling around you as he meows. He then stands on his hind legs and starts gently raking his claws across your leg. A way for him to demand that you pet him. A small smile tugging your lips, you pick him up. The orange ball of fur purrs, curling against your chest as you carry him in your arms. You make your way to the kitchen and pour a mix of leftover meat and fish in his bowl.

You set him down on the floor. His tail wiggles as he hops to his food.

You crouch next to him.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened today, Walter,” you say while giving gentle pets to his back. “I was invited to their table.” The orange cat pauses his eating to stare up at you blankly. “Yes. Theirs,” you repeat as if he could understand you. He gives a long meow before focusing on his bowl again. You sigh. “I know. I thought the same thing.”

Once Walter’s emptied his bowl, you pick him up again and make your way to the living room.

You collapse on the couch.

“And then…Coriolanus Snow drove me home. Yes, the Coriolanus Snow. I didn’t even think he knew I existed.”

For a while, you remain on the couch, stroking Walter’s fur as he sits on your lap. His tail whips the air, his eyes closing as you pet him. His soft rumble of content reverberates against your belly, amplifying when your fingers drag behind his pointed white ears. You lean back, a blanket of peace settling over you.

Walter’s not just a strange-looking cat, he’s also a rescue…from your mother’s experiments. A kitten mutt with mismatched eyes, one blue and one yellow, his mushed, wrinkled face gives him a passing resemblance to a rodent. Pets like him are a rarity in today’s world as most creatures such as him were eaten during the First Rebellion.

Your mother finds him appalling. In her eyes, he is a failed experiment. Like you. Perhaps it’s why you have such kinship with the creature. You still recall her unsettling glance in your direction the day she asked the entire class of nine-year-olds at the Academy if they had pets they were sick of. She then proceeded to burn the flesh off a lab rat to demonstrate her pulsed energy laser.

This moment is burned into your mind forever, your mother’s clinical tone chilling your blood.

You stole Walter from the Citadel and took him home that same day.

You were careful to hide him, though you suspect your mother figured out what you did. She likely added it to her long list of disappointments when it comes to you.

Sometimes, you envy Walter. The simplicity his days hinge upon. His obliviousness to the woes of the world. His uncanny ability to sleep through the chaos of it, ignore the disarray. Walter’s world consists of food, play and cuddles.

What a blissful existence. You bet Walter never had a vexing thought in his short life.

The train of your thoughts is interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone.

You carefully remove Walter from your lap. He meows in protest and jumps off the couch. You pick up the phone, chest clenching as a familiar face fills the flickering screen.

“Mother,” you greet. “How are you?”

She ignores your question, curtly stating, “You’re falling behind in Molecular Cell Biology.”

You know that tone all too well, the warning laced within it so achingly familiar.

Your fingers twist around the phone cord, your voice becoming small.

“I’ll get my grades up, I promise.”

Silence hovers between you and your mother for a while. Faint hope sparks within you. Perking up, you decide to tell her about your day.

“Oh, mother, today-”

“I must go,” she interrupts. “It’s time for my milk and cookies.”

Your spirits plummet. You nudge a hollow smile onto your face.

“Right. I didn’t realize,” you say, checking the clock hanging on the wall. “I’m sorry.”

She heaves out a deep sigh, her lone blue eye narrowing.

“Focus on your studies. And try not to be even more of an embarrassment to me than you already are.”

“Y-Yes, mother,” you reply, your heart shriveling inside your chest.

As she hangs up, you feel silly and horrible. Silly for trying to strike up a normal conversation with your mother. And horrible for letting her down once more.

“You came!” Clemensia exclaims as she rushes to you. You try not to tense as she gives you a tight hug. Ivy and Livia linger in the background, their eyes lifting from the crafts’ table.

You wave at them and are surprised when Ivy wiggles her fingers at you. Livia is more withdrawn, nodding to acknowledge your presence but quickly returning to her task.

You step out of Clemensia’s embrace and flash a quick smile.

“Well I promised you that I would,” you reply nonchalantly. You take a look around the room. Various decorations and posters are propped against the walls, while snowflakes cut-outs and what looks like moon dust are scattered on the table. It seems the girls have been busy.

You turn to Clemensia. “What’s the theme again?”

Ivy surprises you by answering cheerfully, “Well, it’ll be like a Winter daydream and we were thinking of making it a masquerade.”

Excitement sways in Clemensia’s bright eyes. “What do you think?”

“Sounds nice.” Your trite answer draws every gaze in the room to you. Awkwardly bouncing on your feet, you correct yourself, beaming at Clemensia. “I meant amazing.”

“I think so too,” she chimes.

She shows you the empty chair next to hers. The both of you sit down and she starts rambling about the theme and all the ideas she has to decorate the ballroom. You grow dizzy with all the information, trying to follow along her instructions at the same time.

“We’ll need to find you a date,” Clemensia says.

You shake the can of blue paint before spraying over the tree cut-out.

“It’s okay. I probably won’t be going anyway,” you respond absently.

The pencil in Livia’s hand snaps. Your head rises. The blonde’s gaping at you. You then realize…the same look of disbelief is etched on all the girls’ features. A frown mars your brow. Did you say something wrong? You didn’t realize this was such an important event.

A nervous laugh peals off Clemensia’s red-painted lips.

“No, but you have to,” she says, “It’s the first Yuletide Ball in over a decade. Everyone will be there.”

You shrug. “It’s four months away, Clemmie.”

Her onyx gaze shimmers.

“Well, a lot can happen in four months,” she sings, a mysterious smile spreading onto her lips.

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

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Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons [PART 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Everything's all fun and games until everyone assumes you're just being a Horny BardTM when you have, in fact, actually been kidnapped by a dragon.

🌶️ Obligatory Warning for Mild Spice

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

“Wow,” Ace whistled, long and low, and you fought a twitch in your jaw.

He and Deuce were certainly beat to shit, but not quite ‘hurled dozens of feet through the air and a roof’ level of shit, so your spell must have cushioned at least a little of the fall. The pair of idiots stood at the entrance of the cavernous room, shifting back and forth on their heels and faces twisted up in varying degrees of horror.

“I mean, I know there’s a stereotype about bards and whatever,” he continued, aghast. “But, really? Really?”

You grit your teeth. The pointed chin resting atop your head shifted and you felt claws flex at your hips.

‘My friends will probably be coming back here soon to find me,’ you’d entreated, not five-minutes prior.

‘Your friends?’ the dragon had repeated, slow, like the concept of comradery was something completely alien. And then his eyes had narrowed. ‘Ah. They intend to steal you away,’ he’d said with all the indignation of someone who’d clearly forgotten he had literally just proclaimed his intent to the do the exact same thing.

Sparks had shot out from between his teeth, and the already too-sharp black nails tipping his fingers had curled into talons—ashy darkness trailing up his arms like a seeping stain.

‘What? No,’ you’d lied. ‘They would never. I’m sure they’re just curious. Whether I’m still alive or not, I mean.’

‘Oh,’ he’d blinked, that venomous ire seeping from his gaze as if it’d never been there to begin with. ‘I suppose that does make sense.’

So when your loveable idiots had eventually stormed in—swords drawn, banners flying—you schooled your countenance into something as placid as possible. Something that perhaps conveyed ‘I would love for you guys to help me out here, but also I would really like not to see the three of us become tonight’s entrée. So like. Maybe sit this one out.’ But whatever expression you ended up making clearly wasn’t doing what you were aiming for if Ace’s first instinct was to accuse you of Horny Bard Shenanigans.

Or maybe your face wasn’t the problem. Maybe it was just the nearly seven-foot-tall, naked, dragon man draped across your shoulders. Who’s to say.

“This has nothing to do with that,” you snapped, ears burning.

“Do with what?” The newly dubbed Tsunotarou rumbled. He was pressed close enough that you could feel the worlds roll through his chest—annnnd you were going to stop yourself right there and focus very, very, intently on getting through this conversation alive.

“Human things,” you spluttered frantically.

“Ah,” he hummed, his chin shifting from the crown of your head to dip down and instead rest atop the curve of your shoulder. “You’ll have to explain it to me later, then. I do find our cultural differences very intriguing. You humans are so… new age.”

“Explain it to you later…?” Deuce frowned, and you could see the words zipping around behind his eyes to slowly put themselves together into a cohesive thought. He shot ramrod straight and whipped his arm out accusatorily. “You’re staying?!”

“Of course,” you said, with all the enthusiasm of someone with a knife held to their throat. You locked eyes as obviously as you could—hoping he’d get the message. “It’s in everyone’s best interest.”

You could see the pinched look on his face, the heavy weight of discontentment tugging at his brow. There was a war being waged in that man’s head—a battle between what lingering, frail, shreds of rationality and comprehension remained, and the desire to be a good friend and save our bard! Because mama said I should be good to my friends! You stared him down hard, silently begging, pleading, to just let it go. The fingers gripping his axe tightened and you could hear the leather of his gauntlets creak with strain. Tsunotarou hummed, something like amusement coloring the throaty rumble, and it tingled all the way from the tips of your toes to the cheek he was tucked up against. The claws at your side flexed—not deep enough to hurt, but firm enough to know that funny as the notion of a teeny, human, barbarian hurling themselves at a dragon was, it wasn’t going to be a good enough joke to earn said dragon’s mercy.

“Well, duh, you’re staying!” Ace interrupted slickly, sliding in front of Deuce and his burbling rage like a fox finally skulking from its hole. “Look at what a great new friendyou’ve made! You can’t just leave him here all on his lonesome, now can you?”

The low rumble skirting along your back melted into something that was very nearly a purr. Your eyes flickered to your captor’s face—or as much of his face as you could manage to make out, considering he had plastered himself to your side like an overgrown cat. His lips were curled back into that smug, contented, smirk—the tips of his sharp canines just barely peeked out over his bottom lip.

“We’ll come back and check on you, of course,” Ace continued. He waved his hand at the dragon, like they were old chums shooting the shit over a pint of ale in a tavern. “You know how it is. Gotta make sure they’re settling in all right—make sure you’re keeping with your honorable intentions and whatnot. How’s two weeks from now sound?”

“Two weeks?!” you wailed.

Tsunotarou grumbled, clearly also displeased. “I agree. That seems far too soon.”

“Two months?” the ginger countered easily.

“Ace!”

The dragon seemed to consider this new proposal quite thoroughly. You could feel his long lashes flick down against your cheek as his eyes went hooded, heavy—slipping back into his thoughts to ponder upon this newly proffered timeline. After a long, long, moment, he lifted himself from your neck and plonked his chin back down atop the crown of your head.

“That is acceptable.”

Deuce looked entirely unimpressed. You had a feeling you looked like you were about to shit yourself. Ace, naturally, seemed more or less content.

“Well then!” the traitor chirped. “We’ll see you when we see you then, yeah?”

You grit you teeth, but your gaze flicked to your other, kinder, friend and you bit back the slew of heinous insults brewing on your tongue. Deuce still looked more than ready to jump into the fray, consequences be damned. And you were not going to let your terrible, horrible, no-good, rotten luck end all his valiant attempts at redemption when he inevitably attempted to go toe-to-toe with the business end of a dragon.

“…Are you sure you’re gonna be alright here?” Deuce asked, face twisted up in distaste.

There was a pissy rumble from over your shoulder.

“Do you doubt my abilities as a host?”

“Of course he doesn’t!” Ace cut in, ever the bootlicker. “And besides,” he drawled, elbowing his companion in the ribs. “You know how bards are. I’m sure this is right up their alley.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Deuce went pale—then green. Ace turned on you with a smile that was all vinegar. “Right?”

‘I should not let them be murdered horribly,’ you repeated to yourself past the crimson rage leaking into your vision. ‘I should not let them be horribly murdered—’

“Righteo!” you forced yourself to spit. And if you somehow managed to survive these next two months, you were going to string that red haired traitor up by his pinkies and feed him to the crows that lived outside your window.

Your friends slipped away slowly, hesitantly—Deuce looking like he’d been struck down by a horrid case of food poisoning or something else equally as stomach churning. Once they were gone, Tsunotarou lifted his chin from your head so that he could crane his neck over your shoulder and look at you more directly. Not that he had to try very hard, seeing as he was gigantic, whether on two legs or four.

“What was the small, ugly, one referring to?” he asked curiously. “About your profession?”

Your life flashed before your eyes.

“Bards are known for their hearty curiosity and drive to experience new situations,” you repeated, verbatim, from the little adventurer’s handbook you’d been gifted by Lord Crewel all those years ago.

“Oh,” he hummed, nodding into your hair. “Of course.”

The first major hurdle cropped up barely two hours later.

“I need to use the bathroom.”

The dragon blinked slowly, as if mentally tallying through a list of human bodily functions to try and figure out just what on earth you were talking about.

“Ah,” he said after a moment. And then he began to melt away—limbs stretching and cracking, and porcelain complexion bubbling up with inky miasma so thick and dark it may as well have been tar. It was both horrifying and awe-inspiring to watch, like some great creature of old emerging from an arcane cocoon. And not two minutes later, a familiar, ebony, dragon was standing before you in all its glory.

He lowered his snout and nosed around your shoulders for a moment, snuffling and searching. And then he pinched your collar between his teeth and hauled you into the air.

You tried not to scream. Really, you did. But humans just weren’t meant for flying, let alone while suspended between the jaws of a beast that could swallow them whole. By the time you landed, you were so wobbly and windswept that you nearly collapsed to the ground then and there, bladder be damned. Tsunotarou warbled something deep in his chest, and you glanced up past the thin veil of icy sweat dripping into your eyes.

He'd placed you into a blown-out enclave that had probably once been a very nice hallway. And in the corner was the remains of what indeed looked like a bathroom. You straightened yourself as much as you could and began hobbling woozily towards what you hoped was a proper, enchanted, toilet and not just some block of stone with a bowl at the bottom.

There was an echoing thud from behind you and you jumped, startled, and turned to see what the ruckus was all about. Tsunotarou had sat his massive head at the entrance. And he continued to sit there. Watching.

“Uhm,” you mumbled. “Thank you.”

He stared, unmoving. You sighed and squashed your fingers into your temples.

“…We’re going to have to establish some boundaries,” you said. The dragon’s gigantic, neon, eyes closed and opened—like a question. “Boundaries,” you repeated. “Things that we do on our own.”

The beast’s lips flattened into a grumpy line and he grumbled something unintelligible at you, spitting loose sparks from behind his overly long canines.

However, mouthful of razor-sharp teeth in your face or otherwise, everyone had to draw the line between pride and self-preservation somewhere. And having to piss in front of an audience was apparently yours.

You waved your hands in a shoo shoo motion and those amethyst crests flattened irritably atop his skull. He settled in further, the structure of the terrace groaning beneath the weight of his scaly chin. You worried your lower lip between your teeth. It wasn’t exactly like there was a door or anything that you could just, like, shut in his face. And beating him off with a broom or something like a stray cat was out of the question—just out of sheer impossibility. You were going to have to get creative here…

An idea popped into your head and you leaned forward with a charismatic little smile that you’d unleashed on so many traders, and shopkeepers, and unsuspecting bakers that it ought to be considered a weapon in its own right. You’d practiced it in the mirror for weeks.

“I’ll tell you a story,” you offered, and his slitted pupils rounded a bit—intrigued. “That’s what I was before all this, you know. A storyteller.” You had his full interest now, those purple crests rippling behind his horns. “But you have to close your eyes,” you said. “It makes it easier to imagine that way.”

He stared you down curiously for a heartbeat or three, and then Tsunotarou’s gigantic, luminous, eyes slipped shut.

You sighed and plopped yourself down on the decrepit, stone, toilet.

“Once upon a time,” you began, sweeping your cloak out in front of you to give yourself at least a little bit more dignity. One of those crests twitched at the sound of swirling fabric, but his eyes remained dutifully closed. “There was a bard who made some very terrible life decisions—"

The next bump in the road came the following afternoon.

“People tend to wear clothes,” you said.

He canted his head at you. “I am not a person.”

Oh for fucks sake.

Tsunotarou was stretched out along one of the many, grand, banisters lining what you assumed had once been a ballroom—lounging in the dim light like a lizard sunning itself on a rock. Apparently, before your arrival, he’d very rarely, if ever, shed his wings and scales for this more compact form. And he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying spreading himself out across all the new surfaces that the change in size allowed him. Part of you would have thought it was a bit endearing—seeing this eldritch monster merrily falling into the ‘if I fits, I sits’ way of life. The other part was sick of nearly collapsing in cardiac arrest every time you caught sight of his very naked self reclining across some new piece of furniture.

“Yes,” you intoned, deadpan. “But you look like one.”

He blinked slowly, as if putting together a thought. “I see. The dissonance of observing a vestige of humanity which does not actually fit the mold of a human must be disconcerting to you.” He rested a knuckle lightly against his chin as he pondered. “In the same way I may feel uncomfortable if you took on the form a dragon with no teeth or tail.”

“Sure. Whatever,” you bemoaned. “Just. Pants? Please?”

He observed you quietly for a moment, amusement dancing across his features. And then he grinned, putting the pointed tips of those impressive canines of his on full display.

“Well I suppose if you’re going to ask so sweetly.”

He sat up with a stretch that was outright spitting in the face of your plea for modesty, and then spread his hands. His black-tipped fingers twisted gracefully, artfully, and the cavernous room filled with the scent of packed earth and ozone. Soft puffs of emerald light glided along his arms, and in their wake sprouted tendrils of sheer, silken, sleeves. Those dancing lights traveled merrily from his shoulders to his hips, and then back again—spinning magic into fabric like little, ghostly, seamstresses as they went.

The soft glow faded and the silk settled around him with all the delicacy of a cloud. It was stunning, certainly. A true work of beauty. With billowing sleeves that cinched neatly at his wrists, and swept into an open window across his front. The fabric wrapped itself snuggly at his waist and draped low enough to offer at least what should have been the bare minimum of modesty. It pooled across his shoulders, splaying out into a split cape that looked eerily similar to the wings he dawned in his other, scalier, form.

But this lovely new ensemble—as gloriously shiny and magical as it was—was still nearly fucking transparent. And yeah, the shadows curling along the spiraling silk did a decent enough job at obscuring what ought to be obscured. But at the same time, somehow this impression of cloth, of loose fabric that dipped below his collar bones and hung uneven and open across his pale chest, was worse than the outright fucking nudity. Scandalous. Like walking in on a seduction scene in a trashy novel.

“…maybe you should just do whatever makes you comfortable,” you managed to cough out, gaze slipping downwards of its own accord. And then more down. You gulped. “D-Don’t feel the need to change yourself on my account.”

He stared grumpily at his swanky new outfit. And then back at you. His lips pursed into a pout.

“You don’t find it pleasing.”

Your eyes rolled up to stare miserably, tormentedly, at the ceiling, and you began reciting every religious verse you could think of. Thou shall not steal or covet. In the name of the Mother, the Crone, and the Hallowed Throne. Head, shoulders, knees, and toes. Aye, Macarena—

“It looks perfectly nice. I just think that you have as much of a right to be happy in your skin as I do,” you reiterated. “I—I mean, you’re already keeping yourself human more often than not just so we can talk.” Which was true enough, but also mostly an attempt to make it seem like your concern was genuinely aimed at him and not your steadily rising blood pressure.

“…you’re incredibly strange,” he grumbled after a moment, his brow tugging low on his forehead. More pouting. “And impossibly frustrating to read.”

The heat radiating off your face like a fucking active volcano felt ‘possible’ enough to you, but what did you know.

“That’s why you’re keeping me around,” you reminded him.

Ten minutes later, he was sprawled out with his head in your lap, the ridges of his horns bumping your hips and inky black hair spilling over your thighs. Naked as a jaybird.

“Tell me another story,” he hummed, eyes slipping closed.

“Sure,” you agreed, gaze once again firmly locked on the hundreds of cracks in the ceiling. You’d probably have them all memorized by this evening, or at the very least have managed to count them all up a dozen times over.

You were halfway through some yarn about armies made of playing cards and worlds beyond looking glasses when Tsunotarou sighed, heavy and bone deep. Content. And then he turned to bury his cheek into the rough fabric of your traveler’s pants with a rumbling drawl that was not unlike a purr. His nose pressed itself into the inseam of your thigh and your brain fuzzed out like you’d been shot pointblank with a Wand of Lightning Bolts.

“Child of Man?” he huffed after a moment—one, neon, eye flicking open to glare up at you grumpily. “What happened then? To the cat that smiled too wide and the man with the mad hats?”

“R-Right,” you squawked. “Uhm—so as I was saying—”

You stared back at all those cracks and started counting again from zero.

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Malleus x Reader #Malleus Draconia #Malleus x Yuu #Dragon Malleus #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #Twst Fantasy AU #Monster Mayhem Malleus Part 2

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ksmline · 4 months

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star [bang chan x reader]

you first catch sight of chan at an award show, and you just have to have him.

pairing: stray kids bang chan x female!reader

info/warnings: NSFW!!, reader is an actress but it kind of unintentionally ends up becoming irrelevant to the smut part. porn without plot, inconsistent writing style, kind of rushed, GENDERED TERMS (pretty girl, etc), unprotected sex

word count: 1.6k

it's my first time writing smut so if you're reading this you're just going to have to forgive me.

i only want ADULTS who are 18+ interacting with this post. any minors interacting with this post or following this blog WILL promptly be blocked.

never in your life have you drooled over a man like this. you’re used to people drooling over you— the super hot, super successful mega star actress with a face card so lethal it could kill a person. as such, you’ve never really had to do much of anything at all to get guys you’re interested in. they flock to you like moths to a flame.

this is why you’re in a dilemma now, standing next to this fucking hunk of a man at some award show you don’t even remember the purpose of. you’ve only been able to steal so many glances through your peripheral vision, at the risk of alerting your hyper vigilant fans, but it’s more than enough to send a heat rushing between your legs. the slope of his nose, his pretty pink lips, the expanse of his chest peeking through his loose silk shirt, the veins on his hands … he turns around to say something to his teammate (the blonde haired doe eyed pretty boy with the freckles), and you catch his accent. fucking hell. you want this man. you hunger for this man.

you hear the blonde guy say his name. chan. you don’t think you’ll get to use it tonight; as confident and extroverted as you usually are, chan has sent you into this helpless haze where even if somebody were to say hi to you it’d cause your entire system to malfunction and shut down. you want him to like you so bad. you want him to think you’re pretty and hot and sexy and tell you the things you hear all the time anyway but in a much more intimate way with that sexy accent of his. you want him to take you to bed and have you whichever way he pleases.

you can feel how red your ears are, and you couldn’t have been more glad that your hair is styled down right now. you don’t even know what’s more embarrassing, the fact that you are this horny for a stranger in public, or this girlish, childish crush on him that you developed in under the five minutes that you guys have been standing next to each other. at this point, all you really can do is wait for this whole thing to be over so you can go back home, search his name online, finger yourself to the first video of him you see, and then try to fall asleep and will him away from your thoughts. it’s not like you’ll see him again after tonight. right?

anywho, you somehow make it through the event. it’s mostly thanks to the management reseating the attendees for whatever reason, and chan being at a safer distance from you, but you give yourself a pat on the back regardless. for someone who’s only come to grapple with the concept of having a crush instead of being someone else’s for once just an hour ago, you’ve handled it quite well. as discreetly as you can with a million cameras flashing in your face, anyway.

the show’s over now, and nearly all the celebrities are gone. chan and his group fell back so they could say bye to their fans, but now security’s shooing the last of them out. your team makes to usher you out to your car, and you watch (more comfortably now that your fans are out of the picture) as the stray kids boys begin to file into their vans too. you stare at chan’s back as he hurries behind them, a regretful yearning oozing from your eyes.

your manager is quick to catch on, a devilish smile beginning to play on her lips. you turn around, about to disagree with whatever’s about to come out of her mouth, and— fuck, fuck, fuck.

chan’s coming back. he’s coming back and he’s headed towards you. you don’t even know if he’s going to approach you or walk past you, maybe to go get something he forgot, but you start panicking anyway, eyes darting all over the place to avoid meeting his. christ, you’ve never been such a mess before, especially for a guy. you don’t have time to ponder this now, because chan’s standing in front of you, leaving you to take him in in all his glory.

you say a quick word to your manager, something about meeting up with her by the car later, and the team disperses. it then takes everything in you to pull yourself together and channel your collected, professional actress disposition before facing chan properly.

“hi there.” you flash him your best smile. “can i help you?”

“fucking hell,” chan curses, pushing you against the hotel door as he holds your leg straddled around his waist. you keep your mouth on his, pulling your dress up and around your hips. your wet panties grind against his clothed bulge, and he lets out the horniest, most pornographic moan into your mouth. you take this as your cue to finally reach down between you and touch him, palming his bulge. you’re just about to unzip his fly, before he pulls away.

you must look confused, hurt almost, because he reaches out to caress your cheek with a gentleness that contrasts literally everything you guys have been doing so far. “not like this, baby. properly.” and then he makes you straddle him tighter, carrying you to the bed and laying you down. then he kisses you again, all soft and wet. his hand disappears beneath your dress, stroking your pussy. you lean into him, mouth falling open in much awaited relief. he keeps talking. “need to make you feel good, too.”

and that he does. just as you feel like you could cum just from this, chan pulls his hand away, and proceeds to spread your legs out as much as he can. then he falls back over you, pulling your dress down just enough for your tits to pop out fully. his eyes glaze over. you look divine; baring your wet panties to him, breasts so round and soft and perfect. he licks his fingers before using them to play with your now hard nipple.

“you’re so fucking sexy, you know that?” chan fondles your boobs, patting them gently so they jiggle. you jerk, only being able to nod in your sex hungry state. “i tried so hard to keep from getting hard at the award show. could only think of you and these pretty, round tits.”

you grab his wrist and shove it inside your panties, using it to get yourself off. “was so wet for you, chan.” your eyes roll back. “the entire award show. i was this wet for you. see? feel. i was— ah, fuck— so wet … almost— almost gave in and t-touched myself in front of everyone. i was— i was so embarrassed, channie.”

“oh my god. fucking hell, me too, baby.” he’s palming his bulge again, touching himself to your words. “kept thinking about what you were hiding under this slutty fucking dress. wanted to see all of you. wanted to see these big, fat tits, and this dripping wet pussy.”

you cum all over his hand, eyes glassy and mouth open. usually, you’d be embarrassed. but not with chan. you feel so naughty, this feels so wrong but you still feel more aroused than you’ve ever been with any man. you show him his hand, all wet with your slick. “look, channie.”

“i’m looking, honey.” he uses his wet hand, rubbing your cum onto your nipples. “can you show me more of you? if that’s okay?” you nod. “good girl.”

chan finally takes off your sopping wet panties, exposing your clit to him, shining with your juices. he pulls you to sit up, reaching over to rearrange you so you’re on all fours. “there we go, pretty girl.” he runs his index finger through your folds, marveling at how much you came. then he presses his tongue to your pussy, licking and sucking at it before adding his fingers to the mix.

“oh, fuck. chan, ah—”

he brings you to your breaking point once more, before pulling away to unbuckle his pants. he uses the tip of cock and rubs it against your pussy as he strokes himself, both of you moaning like never before.

when he finally enters you, it feels like you’ve ascended. you’ve never taken a cock as big as chan’s before. fuck, you feel so full. he’s a fucking menace, reaching a hand in front to continue rubbing your clit throughout, the other hand fondling your bouncing breasts. this, plus the feeling of his balls slapping against your skin is more than enough to bring you over the edge.

chan pulls out, pushing you back on to your back. he continues pumping himself with his hand, before cumming all over your pussy with a loud, relieved groan. then he collapses beside you, entire body flushed red as he pants audibly.

he looks pretty like this, too, you think, and then marvel at how far gone you are. you lean into his warmth, and hesitate before finally reaching out to hold his hand. he’s still for a moment, and you’re about to shyly retract from him before he grabs your hand properly and kisses it with the biggest grin on his face. you’ll figure out your situation in the morning, but right now you’re more than happy to stay with him like this, even more so when he pulls you deeper into him and cradles you gently, letting you fall asleep as he rubs your back.

#stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #stray kids bang chan #skz bang chan #skz #kpop #smut

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dollymoon · 8 months

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🍄Mushroom Oasis - Mychael Facts Compilation🍄

A facts compilation of Mychael from Mushroom Oasis by @deerspherestudios.

All of these come from what they’ve replied in their tumblr! I write these down as the creator, Cheea, has stated them with a few changes/summarizing in some for easier reading.

There may be some light minor spoilers a tiny bit here and there!

The 1st half will be general Mychael information and then the 2nd half with be more Mychael & MC information.

-------------------------🍄🍄🍄

💚Here’s a NARRATIVE PLAYLIST [by Cheea] based off Day 1 of Mushroom Oasis and a MYCHAEL PLAYLIST [also by Cheea], if you wish to listen to them while reading~💚

💛What made you want to write such an empathetic and slow burn kind of Yandere? [Source 1 & 2] initially it was gonna be a snail monsterman who steals crops out of your back garden and you go out to bonk him on the head only to invite him into your home. Maybe in the future i'll work on the snailboy dating sim </3

But I think I’ve always wanted a cryptid-like yandere for the gamejam when it all started. It was a very barebones concept about a lonely mushroom man who sets up spore traps in order to ensnare and kidnap company. It was supposed to be way creepier and invasive as a oneshot thing, and was never meant to have multiple days in the story. I’m glad I didn’t go in that direction, though. I’m having more fun fleshing out Mychael’s character.

So when I started Mushroom Oasis, I wanted to go for a strangers-to-lovers scenario, instead of starting out with the yandere already smitten with the MC. That way, he gets to know you at the same time as you getting to know him. Hence, the attempt at slow burn haha. I just thought it’d be interesting to try and express it differently. I don’t know if I’m able to execute my intentions well but I’m doing my best! it's gonna be fun writing him as he starts to spiral :-3c Laddie doesn't know what attraction/attachment feels like. Woe be upon ye

💛Was Mychael always going to be named Mychael, or did he have other names upon his initial creation? And does he have a last name? [Source 1 & 2] Always been Mychael! Lorewise he has a different name but MC wouldn’t be able to pronounce it, so he goes by Mychael. And he doesn’t have a last name :-] He’s just Mychael!

💛What species is Mychael? Is he a faerie? [Source] As much as everyone calls him faefolk, he isn't! He's more… monster-oriented I suppose? Creature or cryptid-like. I'm not sure what to categorize him tbh hahaha.

💛Is Mychael over 18? [Source 1 & 2] Oh he’s WAY over 18. He’s way older than he looks.

💛What’s Mychael’s Height? (Dolly’s note🌹): So initially, Mychael’s height was 5'8 but then Cheea said “Mychael is 5'8 (172cm) in the demo! I just wonder if I should've made him a big boi since the beginning but i held myself back 😔” But they didn’t want to make the decision just themselves; thus they made a poll to keep Mychael as is, or to make him taller, taking into account the fan’s wishes as well. The one that won was making Mychael taller. (54.5% vs 45.5%).

And thus Cheea decided his new height would be 6'2. Cheea also added “I think it’s a fair balance since taller Mychael won the majority vote, but a vocal few really liked his original height, so I decided to go in the middle <3”

So yeah his current height is 6’2 (187cm approximately).

💛His sexuality and gender Identity? [Source] He identifies as male with he/him pronouns. And I’ve decided panromantic asexual fits him best! I just don't find him being too sexual tbh. Graysexual at best. Feel free to interpret it differently.

💛Are you okay with NSFW art of Mychael? [Source] 50/50? I’m an adult and so is he as a character. I’d say I wouldn’t mind as long as it’s properly tagged and only the right people have access to it 👍I will not share it on my main blog though but tag it as ‘mushroom oasis nsfw’ or something so people can blacklist it.

💛Mychael’s Headcanon voice? [Source] Jonathan Groff! Particularly his role as Kristoff in Frozen.

💛Can he sing like how Kristoff does in frozen? [Source] I’d imagine he could! He’s not much for singing though, he’s more likely to hum random tunes throughout the day.

💛Are Mychael's scleras just black or is it like a void/empty socket? [Source] He just has black scleras!

💛Does Mychael have tear ducts in his lower eyes? [Source] They do!! The lower eyes basically work like regular eyes, just smaller below his main ones. They can blink independently of each other too.

💛How does Mychael see if he leaves only one pair of his eyes open? It forms a blind spot but depends on which pair he closes! He sees 90% out of his upper eyes and 10% out of his bottom half. His ability also relies on eye contact, so by having both sets locked onto someone else's gaze the influence is stronger. And here’s an illustrated example!

💛Can Mychael see in the dark? [Source] Yes he can see in the dark; his eyes have that tapetum lucidum layer that reflects light in the dark, so they also glow :-)

💛What's Mychael's skin texture like? [Source] Almost human but you can tell something’s different. Eerily smooth, despite his rough palms. If you pinch his cheeks or poke his sides enough times (if he doesn’t get mad at you for it) you’d be able to tell his skin’s a bit thicker than yours. Also like fungi I imagine his skin has chitin. So a bit tougher maybe.

💛Are Mychael's horns and tail soft and fragile like an actual mushroom? [Source] If you mean the shroom-like caps on his head and tip of his tail; soft but definitely not fragile. Think of those cheap squishies with some give but bounce back pretty quick! They’re susceptible to bruising too.

💛Is Mychael’s tail poisonous? If not, how would Mychael react if someone bit it? [Source 1 & 2] Nop it isn’t poisonous. And like… a straight up bite out of it?? Or a nibble??? If you bit him so hard it takes a piece of his tail it’d hurt and bleed a lot. It’s full of nerve endings but will heal over and regenerate eventually.

If it’s just a nibble you’d just taste dirt and bitterness I think haha. And depending on how close you are to him, he’d either be flustered beyond belief or just downright very uncomfortable hahaha.

💛Is Mychael’s blood blue because some irl creatures have blue blood due to their blood having copper instead of iron or was it for aesthetic reasons? [Source] It was definitely for aesthetic purposes more than anything, since I wanted him to blush a non-human color. One of the earlier concept sketches had him blushing bright magenta haha.

💛What does Mychael smell like? [Source] I’d describe it as freshly cut grass with a hint of log fires. Like camping in summer if that makes sense.

💛Does Mychael purr? [Source] Since im honestly a sucker for the purring trope i'll say hell yea tbh hahaha. His would be a really low rumble I'd imagine. He can also occasionally let out a low trill or those ‘mrrp’ sounds when he’s caught off guard or surprised but it's rare since he's real embarrassed when he does it.

💛Is Michael ticklish? [Source] Considering he’s never been tickled before,,, I think he’d go into shock if you did that to him💀 But to answer your question yeah I think he’d be the most ticklish person you’ve ever met haha. He’s either gonna accept his fate or go down fighting😔

💛Does Mychael snore in his sleep? [Source] He’d be a pretty quiet sleeper I think!

💛Does Mychael get sick? Since he’s not human, he doesn’t get sick like we do:

He’s aware we call it being sick, but his term is ‘feeling withered/wilted.’

He doesn’t have a temperature, but his skin turns pale and blemished like a diseased plant, and gets kinda slimy and cold like a frog’s. Here's a visual of how he looks like sick.

No energy, no appetite, barely talks. Very zombie-ish.

He gets real drowsy and dazed and the only thing to motivate him is seeking out warmth.

He just needs sunshine and sleep to get better so you’d find him laying out in the sun during the day and hiding away in blankets at night, sleeping it off. He only eats once a day, since his body needs rest rather than sustenance.

He gets sick like... once every few years that's how rare it is but when it happens it knocks him out for like a week </3

💛Does Mychael fear metal? What phobias does he have? [Source 1 & 2] No, he doesn’t fear metal and iron wouldn't hurt him! His phobias/fears are: snowstorms, thunder/lightning and water wells. In no particular order :-) (Oh, and trains/train whistles.)

💛Does Michael have any food that he hates? [Source] Anything spicy! He can handle some spice, but anything that gives heat on your tongue he’d definitely be put off since it makes him physically ill.

💛Mychael's life cycle: [Source] His life cycle is very different from a human’s.

💛Does Mychael have his own languge? If so, what does it sound like? [Source 1 & 2] He actually has his own language, but speaks in English (or your own language if you’d prefer!)

His language sounds very animalistic; a lot of growls, hisses and clicks. It’s like hearing a cat verbally communicate with those sounds. If you guys are familiar with Toki Pona, (here’s a video for reference.) the simplicity is very similar in terms of vocab and sentence structure. Considering the limitations of those same growls, hisses and clicks, plus how little he communicates in his own language, it’s not a complex system but he speaks it regardless. He wont be speaking it in-game hence why im okay answering the question.

💛Can Mychael read? [Source] Yep, he can read! He talks about it some more in Day 2.

💛Can Mychael swim? [Source] He’d be able to swim, yeah.

💛How much does Mychael know of human customs/cooking/inventions? And does he like/dislike some of them? [Source] He knows enough to make a living for himself. He’s really into DIY and crafting, but if anything gets more complex to the point it goes over his head- he’d just abandon it. As for human customs he knows even less; it’s kinda touch and go what he does and doesn’t know ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ For example, he's seen cars and phones but doesn't understand how they work. Traditional stuff like crafting/cooking/gardening is easier for him to grasp.

💛Does Mychael have any religion/belief? [Source] I’ve played around with this concept in my head! I did want to explore a unique kind of religion/belief Mychael has but,,, eventually I kinda settled on the idea that Mychael broke off from that way of thinking? Or something like that. It can be accepted that he used to have a religion- or never had one to begin with. it's a tricky subject for me anyway </3 But feel free to have your own interpretation!

💛Does Mychael have any superstitions? [Source] His biggest superstition is respecting the forest and whatever happens in the forest, stays in the forest. (That is until you came along and made him break his own rule. Whoops.)

💛What's Mychael’s wardrobe like? [Source] He’s not much for fashion; as long as he thinks it’s practical and comfortable he’d wear it. He wouldn’t be a fan of clothes that’re less weather-resistent though, since he clearly needs stuff that could stand the wilderness.

He doesn’t accessorize much either, preferring to keep simple and be as drab as possible to attract less attention. But I think he’d love to try nail polish :-)) He has a lot of hats and scarves though.

💛Would Mychael be willing to wear a dress? [Source] I’d like to think he’s tried em before! He kinda had to scrap by when it came to clothes so he wouldn’t be picky in his early days.

Nowadays, he probably thinks they’re nice to wear but impractical for his daily chores, so he mostly sticks to tops and bottoms. But he won’t be opposed to it.

💛When did Mychael start knitting and why? [Source] He’s been knitting for a few years, so he’s kinda advanced. As for why, he finds it relaxing especially after a long day, and usually does it before bedtime. Plus he just loves being bundled up in warm things in general.

💛What is Mychael's favorite thing to knit? [Source] His favorite thing to knit are beanies!! :-D

💛What are other craftsmanship does Mychael do? [Source 1 & 2] He’s tried out woodworking, sculpting, candle-making, pottery etc. Knitting just happens to be his favorite of all the things he’s tried haha. Assume Mychaels an expert at gardening too!

💛Does Mychael ever overwork himself to the point of almost passing out? [Source] He definitely used to! It’s not easy making a living out in the wilderness; especially when he only had himself to rely on. Thankfully he doesn’t need to go through that anymore; he’s made a pretty nice home for himself since then. He's been thru a lot. Sopping wet cat energy.

💛How long has Mychael been in his home/cabin for? [Source] Previously he’d wander around like a nomad before finding himself a home. He’s only settled down into his cabin in the woods for a few years, it’s still a work in progress by his standards.

💛Does Mychael like stargazing? [Source] He’s more of a daytime person tbh! At night he’d prefer to stay cozy indoors. When you spend half your life sleeping outside in the cold. You don't miss it much despite the pretty lights in the sky.

💛What kind of music does Mychael listen to? [Source] Hm! He rarely listens to music, so he doesn’t have a preference tbh. If he had to choose- Perhaps something more upbeat and dancey since it’s a nice change from the quiet, but only for short periods. He’d probably enjoy whatever you’re listening to if you give him the chance :-)! Lyrics don't matter as much to him. He'd just enjoy it based off the sound.

💛What are some of Mychael's favorite scents? [Source] Top 3 would be the smell of old books, honey and (strangely enough) gasoline??? But the last one is soso rare for him he finds it exciting when he happens to catch a whiff, even if he has no idea what it is haha.

If you happen to be the type to wear perfumes/scents, he’d quickly associate the smell with you and have it be another one of his favorites :-)

💛How would Mychael react if he found a lost child in the woods? [Source] He’d be surprised for sure. His part of the woods is pretty untouched by humans, so to find one wandering this far is definitely a shock to him. If the kid was too scared to let him approach, he’d have to use a tiny fraction of his ability to calm them down, so as not to leave any side effects (younger minds are more vulnerable to it). If the kid wasn’t scared and asked if he was some sort of woodland fae/goblin creature, he’d go along with it and say he’s come to rescue them.

After making sure the kid is alright, he’d either try to find the parents straight away or bring them home if they needed food or rest. He wouldn’t dare adopt a child willy nilly, and if there was no other way, he’d probably drop them somewhere like a police or fire station (he can’t really differentiate between them, just that they respond to emergencies).

Overall he’s not opposed to being around children, just not used to it.

💛I see Mychael as a very docile and friendly creature- but in the 3rd ending of the game "Playing Pretend" left me with a doubt... Would he really be a bad guy? [Source] You’re not wrong! Mychael’s not the most violent, even if he is capable of it. In Ending 3 he just… panicked. Though don’t underestimate the things he’d resort to when he realizes how attached he’s getting to you :-)

He’s calm and composed… until he isn’t.

💛How many creatures/people has Mychael found "affected" by those mushrooms that the MC came across? [Source] You’re not the first, that’s for sure! He definitely knows about them, but finds it unnecessary to tell you (at least for now). He was quick to dismiss your doubts on how you lost consciousness, giving you an easy explanation even if he had to lie.

Most of the time he lets the incapacitated creatures be; “it’s the will of the forest,” after all. Although he does break that rule when he finds humans that’re still alive (in this case, you!) in his forest, but that’s very very rare.

💛How would Mychael act if MC introduced him to their friend? MC told their friend that Mychael wouldn't hurt them but the friend is still a little scared and weary of him. [Source] Definitely wary of them too. He kinda trusts you, but can he trust them? He’s met his fair share of humans; not a lot of them were as accepting as you. He can try to lower his guard but your friend would need to convince him themself.

💛Mychael & MC in Day 1 of the game. [Source] Mychael, as a person, is quite solitary in nature; he likes being alone and you’ll find out why. He does however desire company and he’s only realized just how pleasant having someone around can be (hence his reaction for the Bad Endings in Day 1 if you wish to leave/run away).

You grow closer to Mychael as you hang out with him and do little things that he appreciates. Example: The first thing that boosts you to immediate friend status is your willingness to accept his physical looks, something that’s never happened to him before. Little things like that mean a lot to him and motivates him to prolong your stay.

If Mychael met a more grouchy/mean MC on Day 1 he’d probably not be as attached. He’d just save you, feed you and send you home when you ask hahaha. Of course, this will change as he gets to know you better, at that stage he’ll be willing to overlook your flaws like any upstanding yandere.

💛How would Mychael react if the player character was already in a relationship with someone else? [Source] At his current attachment in Day 1 [Friend status], he’d be respectful about it! A little overprotective but mostly curious what dating and marriage is all about. He’s not familiar with it outside of whatever knowledge he happened to pick up.

Now if he’s grown obsessed developed feelings and found out afterwards though…

💛Can you date Mychael in this game? Or not? [Source] I mean that's the goal! ¯_(ツ)_/¯ If his responses in asks currently give off a platonic vibe, that's because they are.

As of Day 1, Mychael's feelings towards you are positive but mostly platonic [Here's a visual affection level chart]. His bad endings show his desperation for company rather than you reciprocating any romantic feelings.

As I update the game, his responses will most likely be more romantically-driven. The game is a slow burn after all :-) He's a yandere- but a yandere who hasn't fallen in love yet. Though I do plan on adding a platonic ending bc sometimes u just wanna kiss a bestie without any romantic feelings attached.

💛What made you think of the pet name ‘Firefly’ for MC? [Source] It honestly just came to me as I was concepting the game ;v;! Other pet names Mychael would’ve used were: turtledove, poppet and sweetpea. He would switch it up in the initial draft but sticking to one makes it more special I think.

💛What does Mychael think about femboys? [Source] He doesn’t really mind nor care how you present yourself :-0! In fact he’d find it strange you asked that at all after you explain what it means dhfjsjf

💛Does Mychael have a gender preference? [Source] Not at all! His favorite genre of human is you :-) Plus gender talk goes way over his head. He's too busy thinking about survival to mind that stuff. Anything you identify with he's absolutely okay with <3

💛How would Mychael feel about someone a lot shorter than him? [Source] He had to admit he forgot adult humans come in your size,,, he wouldn’t think much of it though! He’s just excited to make a friend :-)

💛What would Mychael's "ideal type" be? [Source] I think he’d be more attracted to gentleness, I think. Someone who is kind despite a harsh reality; willing to understand a creature like him and someone he trusts he can drop his guard around.

But even if you don’t fit that criteria, he’d still like you as long as you accept him for who he is! There’s no need to worry about changing yourself to fit his preference <3

💛How did the player get to Mychael’s home? [Source] I always imagined it as piggyback to be honest! But bridal carry, a fireman’s carry, over-the-shoulder, whatever you guys are comfortable with he’s definitely capable of <3 He may be shorter than most (Dolly’s note🌹: His height changed since this ask so maybe not anymore lol so let's change it to 'He may seem weak') but he's strong.

💛Is MC permanently affected by the mushroom ring they stepped in? How much power does Mychael hold against it? [Source] No, MC is not permanently affected by the mushroom ring they stepped in. In one of the bad endings, the influence of it over you is stronger than what Mychael can fight against, hence he releases you as he sees it as the forest already claiming you fully. He can do nothing else to save you.

That’s why he insists on you staying for dinner, and is surprised when you say yes, as he really thought he lost you already for a moment there :-) Past that choice, the mysterious ‘purple’ influence no longer affects you, as Mychael had successfully distracted you long enough for the mind-altering effects to wear off. He just needed the right thing to say to keep you grounded. Lest you wander off and end up in the ground </3

💛If we asked, would he talk to us in his own language? [Source] If he were to talk in it you wouldn’t be able to differentiate one word to another, they all sound the same hahaha.

💛Can we research what type of fae creature Mychael is? Will he be okay with it? [Source] He might be apprehensive at first, but if you ask the right questions he’d probably answer just enough to satiate your curiosity. Don’t be surprised if he leaves out certain things though, he doesn’t want you to think he’s a freak. 💔 He doubts you'd find anything in research though but who knows

💛Do you think Mychael would be a good teacher, when it comes to knitting? [Source] He’s never taught anyone before but he’d be happy to! (He’d probably be a very hands-on teacher cuz he’s bad at explaining–)

💛What if you knitted something for Mychael? [Source] If you knitted something for him he’d probably wear it/look at it multiple times throughout the day getting butterflies in his stomach.

💛If MC brought him to a secret river as a gift would he go? [Source] The thing I’d correct is Mychael would bring MC to a river instead of the other way around hahaha. MC is the poor meowmeow who got lost in the woods on Day 1. Their ass would not!! know any secret rivers

💛How would Mychael react if MC threw him a surprise party, to celebrate his birthday or to celebrate the day they both met? [Source] I think he’d love it a lot!! He’s not one to celebrate much if anything, but he’d be so happy if you threw a little surprise just for him :-) Especially knowing he gets to spend time with his favorite person in the world for such a special occasion <3

💛Is there any fun activities that Mychael would drag MC to? [Source] Oh for sure! He’d probably take you outdoors a lot and show you all his favorite spots in the forest :-)!! He’d probably bring you along to do his daily errands if you’d allow it haha

💛What would Mychael say if I were to take two slices of bread, put his head in between and sweetly ask: "what are you?" The answer lol

💛What would Mychael’s reaction be if MC tried giving him spicy food? [Source] If you try to give him a spicy dish, he’d definitely smell it first before he even tastes it. He’d just politely decline in that scenario.

💛What is his opinion if MC is the type to snore? [Source] He's definitely the kind of person to have the TV on in the room even if their not watching- just to have some noise around the house. So if MC were the type to snore… he’d probably find the sound strangely comforting? He’d find it jarring at first but grow used to it quickly.

It’s nice to hear you and know that someone is around after being alone for so long, especially when he’s up during late nights <3

💛How would Mychael feel about an MC who steals and wears his sweaters? [Source] He’d find it strange why you’d wanna steal when you can just ask– he’d also find it very endearing. Should he be concerned that you're a potential thief?? Or just worry about how cute you look?? a moral dilemma

💛Is there any type of clothing that Mychael likes to see on MC? [Source] I’d imagine he’d like clothes on MC that are more earth-toned perhaps, greens and browns that remind him of his forest and such. :-) Loose clothes are a bonus too cuz it makes you look comfy around him! i think he'd be a fan of animal-themed clothes too; pawprint socks or a fox cap or a rabbit hoodie- something like that.

💛What is Mychael’s love language? [Source] This is assuming MC and Mychael have been friends/lovers for a while; When you’re on the receiving end: Offering Gifts 🎁💖

He’s never had anyone be around as long as you have; he’s kinda new to the gifting thing but does so with a lot of enthusiasm!!

Whether it’s something he made or found, knowing he chose it for you is what makes it soso special.

He just loves the idea of being able to give something that was a part of himself and insert it into your life if that makes sense.

He also loves doing it because he believes you deserve to have nice things with all his heart :-)!

If he’s not sure what to gift you he’d rely on pretty little knickknacks he thinks you’d like but still be on the safe side; flowers, jewelry, decorations and accessories.

But if he does figure out your interests he’d do his best to accommodate! Books, toys, tools and clothes… he has his means of getting stuff he can’t make himself.

The idea of you keeping his gifts as a sign of friendship/love makes him really happy!!

Lowkey if he sees you using/wearing/displaying a gift he gave in the past he’d be purring non-stop.

When he’s on the receiving end; Words of Affirmation 💬💕

We know how he feels about his physical appearance so this is a no-brainer. His self-esteem isn’t the best :’-)

Being alone/isolated as he is, he might confuse physical affection but nothing is more clear to him than words straight from your mouth about how much you mean to him <3

At first he wonders if you truly mean what you say when you talk so positively about him, but then he slowly starts to believe it.

Do not underestimate the impact of one (1) compliment as simple as “You look good today, Mychael.” He’d remember it for at least a week.

It’s a bit of a guessing game to figure out what gets him the best. If you praise his skill at something his response would be, “Oh I guess I got good at it. Thanks, firefly :-)” but if you praise his looks and mannerisms you’ve hit the jackpot.

Blushing, stuttering, avoiding your gaze level of embarrassment.

If you’re really close friends or basically dating, he will absolutely ask for your opinion on how you feel about him from time to time, just to get reassurance from you.

Overall nothing gets him better than just hearing positive remarks from a loving source aka you :-) <3

💛How would Mychael react if we made him some lunch while he was knitting and feed it to him? The cute illustrated answer

💛How would he react to a very clingy MC? [Source] If you mean very clingy, he’d be pretty tense about it, to be honest. He’s not used to physical touch but doesn’t mind it; if you take it easy and ask permission (so he doesn’t get overwhelmed) he’d be more okay with it! Just respect him when he asks you for space every once in a while <3

(Dolly’s note🌹: I can only guess but I think this answer is if you're still in the friend status because if this applies even in the obsessed status, the below Q&A would so funny in comparison)

💛But is Mychael clingy? This guy? Clingy? Nahhh. Nothing to worry about, anon :-)/s Here's a visual of his clinginess, he's very clingy yes lol.

💛Is Mychael the jealous type? [Source] It’s rare for him to feel jealous, but I’d imagine when it does happen he’d feel it very intensely on the inside. But you’d probably be none the wiser 💔

💛How would Mychael react if we confess our feelings to him? [Source] Bold of you to assume he won’t be the one to confess first 🤨

💛Does Mychael like to be kissed? [Source] His kind arent accustomed to physical affection. Does he even know what kissing is??? Thats for me to decide and you to figure out 👀 BUT He’d love getting kisses! On the cheeks especially :-) But careful not to overstimulate him; he’s kinda like a cat when you pet ‘em too much and they get all frazzled. Kisses on the lips he's less inclined but doesn't mind em time to time. Maybe like a peck or two. And here's a gif of pampering Mychael's face with kisses <3

💛Does Mychael know about marriage customs in human civilization? [Source] He’s familiar with human marriage the same way a young kid would be; involves inviting people, dressing up and wearing rings for some reason?? How strange to go to such lengths when you could just be around that same person the rest of your life and still be the same??

He doesn’t put much significance on it personally. Unless…? 👀 💛What would Mychael do if MC took care of him while he was sick? [Source] He’s not used to asking someone to care for him, but in this state if MC offered to help he’d honestly just ask you to keep him warm too with zero assumption as to what you might think. He’s just a little too out of it to be embarrassed about it. Example of providing him warmth.

💛Would Mychael let us hug him when he’s sick or would he push us away? Although, would this make us sick? [Source] He would! I’d say he’s the most physically clingiest when he’s sick. He’s basically sleepy all the time and other than seeking warmth, he doesn’t communicate much.

And no, we can’t get sick from him and vice versa, since our bodies are different from his. So no worries about getting yourself sick when you’re around him!

💛What would Mychael do if the MC got ill? [Source] Oh he’d be worried beyond belief! He wouldn’t leave you alone for a second.

He’s not familiar with human sickness, but he’d do his best to provide whatever it is you need. Hot soup, warm blankets, he’d even risk going to get medicine for you if you ask.

-------------------------🍄🍄🍄

Some facts I didn’t add as Cheea didn’t give a direct answer to some questions, like Mychael’s family, since they’ll eventually be answered in the game <3

But I hope you enjoy this and that it may be useful to you all!

#mushroom oasis #visual novel #mushroom oasis vn #mychael #mushroom oasis mychael #info organizing

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undead-supernova · 2 months

Text

make me thaw / Masterlist

pairing: Steve Harrington x gn!reader

plot: Steve has to house sit for his parents and has to resist the urge to call you to come over

warnings: not just having mommy or daddy issues (it's that secret third option!), intimacy issues, angst/comfort, pronouns never mentioned

wc: 1.8k

song inspo: I Wouldn't Ask You by Clairo

note: this isn't like any big thing, but I thought the little concept was interesting. anyways, have some angsty Steve

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to call.

There are just certain things that one must experience alone, things that are just too complicated for someone else to truly understand. Things that someone can’t articulate, so why even bother trying at all?

Or, at least, that’s what Steve had thought his whole life.

Because Steve hated his parents. No, it was something that extended past hate. Steve loathed them. He loathed the way they waved their hands around in dismissal. Loathed the way they came in and out at their leisure, only asking how he was when they felt rather obligated. Loathed his mother’s negligence, his father’s absence.

The thing he loathed the most was how much he truly loved them.

But they weren’t even here.

No, they were in Sicily. Another one of their infamous arguments ensued when his mother found love letters from another woman in his nightstand. And instead of trying to deny it this time, his father decided to take his mother on a nice vacation. Some sightseeing, fancy dining.

Nothing said “I’m sorry for cheating on you for the sixth time” like a three-hundred-dollar bottle of wine next to the Mediterranean Sea.

So he was called to house sit for a few days, making sure their cat was fed—the one obtained after the fourth "mistake".

Steve wanted to tell them to fuck off and that they could call literally anyone else. But his father offered him a good amount of cash, way more than Family Video was giving him and he just…caved. Couldn’t look his father in the eye when he was told that part of the deal was to never tell anyone about his infidelity. Keep his mouth shut, especially to that little plaything of his.

He looked around his childhood bedroom, feeling a weight beginning to push him further into the mattress. Frames that once held his awards now hugged paintings of Mr. Harrington's favorite vacation spots. Carpet now ripped out in exchange for hardwood flooring. Walls coated in a new shade of off-white. Potpourri sitting on a new dresser to mask his scent. Boxes of his stuff sitting idle in the attic.

And maybe it was a byproduct of hunting monsters and evil spies, but Steve thought the house was haunted. If not haunted, then haunting.

And he could’ve fooled himself into believing he heard echoes of his parents arguing downstairs. Even in the dead quiet. Even in the midnight hour when the rest of Hawkins was lulling in and out of slumber.

It was freezing cold in here, colder than it’d been before—even in the dead of winter. A sweatshirt, thick sweatpants, and fuzzy socks weren’t even enough. Nothing was enough.

Steve didn’t know why, but he thought of you. Thought about how you’d never actually been in this house. You were a more recent friend, a more recent something or other. A friend that he appreciated, a friend that he was too terrified to entertain as anything more than just a friend.

And, sure, you were a friend that he’d tried to introduce to his parents. For whatever reason. But when you walked into the foyer and introduced yourself to Mr. Harrington, he took one look at you, snorted, and walked away. You’d turned back, resigning to sitting by the pool, wondering out loud what made you so laughable.

Steve had tried to comfort you, tried to explain that his dad was just a prick. He hated everyone that didn’t look or act or dress just like him. His dad called it weakness.

And Steve was the weakest of them all.

His knees had brushed yours and his lips trembled as you nearly made what he told himself was a mistake. In that moment, he almost let everything go, had almost let himself wake up to the idea of something new.

But instead, he shook his head and stood up. Walked away. Stood by the car and waited for you to get the hint and follow him. Blamed the rudeness on wanting to get to your shared shift on time. Let the car fill with The Psychedelic Furs and deprived it of conversation.

Because, just like this house, Steve was cold.

After everything with the Upside Down, something he swore he’d never think of again, Steve retreated into himself. Sure, he was still running around with Robin, Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Max, and Erica. But those were just things now. Low stakes.

He didn’t have to let himself find new ways to break his heart. He didn’t have to put you in any compromising position when he could just stay silent.

And that’s why he didn’t call.

Clink.

Steve’s attention diverted towards the window.

Clink.

Without so much as a flinch, Steve sighed and made his way over. He half expected a new monster to appear, an added cherry on top of his loathing.

But as he peered out, he spotted you with your arm pulled back, ready to launch another acorn. The reflection of the pool lights shone off of your smile that only widened as you noticed him.

Eyebrows furrowing, he quickly lifted the windowsill.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, leaning out.

“Came to hang.”

“Could you not use the front door?”

Tilting your head in confusion, you said, “I’ve been knocking for the last five minutes.”

“Oh.”

“Are you gonna let me in or what?”

Steve watched you unzip your beat up backpack, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. He felt bad that he hadn’t spoken much since he let you in, but you didn’t seem to mind.

He sat up against his headboard, arms crossed as he stretched his legs. You were on the other side of him, cross-legged. Not close enough to accidentally touch, but not so far away that you couldn’t be there if he needed you.

But he didn’t need anyone.

You pulled out a large thermos, gesturing towards it as if you were presenting him with an award.

“I give you…ginger tea,” you said, imitating an announcer.

“You could’ve just brought the bags. We have a kettle.”

“That’s no fun.”

Despite his comment, he took the thermos from you. Warm, was his first thought followed by, Thank you.

But he said nothing, opting instead to drink the tea.

What was there for him to say? Steve was elsewhere, lost in his head in ways that he couldn’t decipher.

“Robin and I missed you at closing tonight.”

And you were here, offering him some relief that he didn’t want to feel. He didn’t need it.

“Is that why you came?” he asked.

You shook your head, going back to rummaging around your bag. “I was thinking about how shitty your parents have been and how uncomfortable it must be to just sit in an empty house.”

Here you were, caring. And for whatever reason, he couldn’t stand it.

“It’s not like I haven’t been doing that my whole life.”

“That’s true,” you agreed. “but that doesn’t make it any easier when you find a real family and then have to come back and sit with what used to be your reality.”

“You don’t need to take care of me.”

“Sure I do,” you said simply.

Like it was a no brainer.

Steve shook his head, wanting the thought of an us to leave his head.

“Life isn’t fair,” he stated, watching as your face began to fall. “And…and this is just the life I was given, you know? And everything that came after that—all the pain, all the bullshit—it’s just…”

Steve trailed off, unsure where to go from there. Unsure where the words were supposed to fall.

Until it came.

“My parents suck. They have no real relationship. I don’t even know why they stay together. And they think that what they have with me is family. Maybe that’s what they were brought up with. I don’t know. But that’s…that’s not it.”

“And knowing that gets frustrating,” you stated, fingers reaching out toward him.

Your hand rested on his knee, the warmth matching that of the thermos. Trying to diffuse his anger, trying to unveil what was hidden.

“Love doesn’t last,” he whispered.

“I don’t think you really believe that.”

Your fingers ran against his knuckles, seemingly soothing him. But there was that hardness in his chest, the kind of protection that couldn’t be torn down so easily.

Even if you were getting good at it.

“What are we, then?” Steve asked suddenly, nearly sounding defensive.

He thought you’d pause. Thought you’d pull your hand away. Anything. But you didn’t flinch, didn’t miss a beat while continuing your absentminded pattern.

“We’re best friends,” you said with a shrug. “Mixed with a hint of something extra.”

“Doesn’t that just complicate things?”

You glanced up. “Not for me.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you like me back.”

Steve paused, unsure of what to say to you. Unsure of what to think about this conversation. It was supposed to be awkward, right? This wasn’t supposed to feel comfortable.

But it did.

“I don’t understand.”

“The things you’ve been through the last however many years. Your parents,” you explained. “Of course you don’t want to risk falling for someone else or give your heart away. How could you when your own parents can’t even recognize that they have hearts?”

Steve watched you, nearly begging you to be anything besides understanding. Anything besides caring.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you continued. “I just know. I mean, I suspected for a while. But we almost kissed that day. You know, after your dad laughed at me?” He nodded. “I just knew it was a matter of time and…I decided not to push it unless you said something.”

“I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to switch it on anytime soon,” he explained, solemn as he looked back over at the empty thermos. “If I could just kiss you and, I don’t know, make everything magically reappear, I would. But…” he trailed, sighing before his eyes met yours again. “I just can’t.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” you replied, eyes trained on your hands. “I’m willing to wait until you’re ready.”

“But I’m just like my shitty parents,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m like ice.”

You shrugged. “Well, ice thaws.”

Steve watched you, watched the way your eyes stayed put on his hand. Watched as you stayed like that, all hopeful and at peace in his room. Perfectly content with the idea of waiting. Not rushing, not arguing.

He thought of his parents, how he’d never seen them engage in physical affection; intimacy. How they could never just have a civil conversation about their emotions. How they could never admit the truth without having to pay a toll.

There was nothing between them that mirrored this.

And maybe Steve was starting to understand what you meant.

#steve harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x gn!reader #Steve x gn!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington angst #Steve Harrington x you #steve harrington imagines #I just kinda came up with this and I know it's not like the best thing ever #but I like how simple it is

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wheredafandomat · 10 months

Text

Shrink - P1 | You need to get laid

Random short thing I thought of. It’ll probably only be a few parts.

Avenger! Loki x therapist! Reader

18+ | there will be some bad language and probably mentions of sex throughout etc. Also, this is a lil unethical

With a long exhale, Loki rolled his eyes as he settled back against his chair, slouching as you continued to speak. He didn’t like being here, judged, therapized, forced to confront his feelings or whatever other taradiddles Thor had conjured up to get him here. He tried to look interested, gaze meeting yours as you paused before continuing when you had his attention.

“I personally feel your hostility and aggression towards the other members of your team may be rooted into something else.” You concluded as Loki narrowed his gaze questioningly at you. “Loki, I’m going to ask you a very personal question and I want you to answer truthfully.”

“Go ahead.” He nodded.

“Remember in here” you started, gesturing around the room “is a safe space.”

“Get on with it.”

“When is the last time you’ve had sex?” You questioned.

Inhaling and exhaling, Loki’s gaze began wandering around the room as he nervously scratched the back of his neck.

“Well there was—and— and I can’t forget—” he began mumbling to himself as you took a sip of water before he was looking at you again “if I were to hazard a guess, I’d say around a century ago.”

Gasping, you almost spat out your water.

“Relax, only a midgardian century, time moves very slowly here I’ve gathered.” He tried to console.

“I thought it moved faster here?”

“Perhaps” Loki shrugged “I don’t know, I was just trying to quell your shock and distress.”

“I wouldn’t say I was distressed, just” you swallowed thickly “surprised.”

“Well, I’ve not found anyone I want to be intimate with.” He spoke matter of factly.

“No one?” You queried incredulously.

“I don’t spend much time out. I’m usually helping my brother and his team of delinquents.” Loki explained.

“They’re the Avengers, Earth’s defenders Loki.” You countered.

“Well I hope your planet musters up a more capable team, sooner rather than later.” He mocked.

Instead of defending the organisation further, you kept your professionalism.

“Look, Loki, if I’m being honest with you, I don’t think you’re angry, I think you're sexually frustrated” you proposed. “it’d explain the irritability, the edginess and the dreams we spoke about last week.”

“Sexually frustrated.” He repeated, mulling over the words. “And how would one go abouts curing this sexual frustration?” He asked, earning a cynical look from you. “Right.” He realised.

“For you, this week's homework is to go out and get laid, safely.”

“Get laid?”

“Have some sex, do I have to spell everything out for you?” You huffed exaggeratedly.

“Right.” He smiled.

“So, same time next week?”

“Yes.” He agreed, making his next appointment before leaving.

Making his way back to the compound, Loki thought about your words. Could you quite possibly be correct? He didn’t want to admit it but he thought that there was potential for you to be right but then that’d mean that the whole concept of therapy wasn’t as useless as he had previously argued and he didn’t like being wrong. He despised it. Huffing to himself, he thought there was probably no harm in testing your hypothesis. Once he reached back, he was greeted by Thor.

“How was therapy?” Thor asked.

“Do you and Jane have sex?” Loki questioned causing Thor to swallow thickly, clearly taken aback.

“Yes, yes we do.” He answered. “Why?”

“Well Doctor y/l/n recons that I’ll be all better if I have some of the sex.” Loki explained, causing Thor to stand straighter.

“Well we must settle this at dawn, whoever survives will be the one Jane—” Thor began before Loki interrupted.

“What on Midgard are you going on about?”

“What on Midgard are you going on about?” Thor narrowed his gaze.

“I have to find someone in which I can have the sex with and then I’ll be all better. Don’t fret, I don’t want Jane.” Loki insisted.

“Oh splendid.” Thor clapped happily.

Meanwhile, you had just finished up with your last client before you heard a knock at your door, looking up, you smiled as you gestured Natasha inside who was holding food. Once she entered, she sat down as you both tucked into the meal.

“So, how’s your week been, any good client stories?” Natasha asked.

“Natasha” you exclaimed “if I were to share information about my patients with you, I’d be at risk of losing my license.”

“I won’t tell” she baited you “besides, I’m not asking you to be specific and use names, just give me the rundown, we used to share everything with each other.”

You couldn’t disagree with her, you became best friends when your office was based at SHIELD headquarters and she was a trainee agent.

“You’re a terrible influence, pour me a glass of that wine.” You relented.

“Soo, banging anyone?” She asked, both of you with glasses in hand.

“No, no one rocks my boat.” You sighed.

“What about that accounting guy?”

“We were at my apartment and let’s just say an encounter with a spider left one of us almost in tears and the other completely turned off.” You cringed at the memory causing Natasha to laugh. “I want a man Nat, he was always just so—”

“Weak?” She finished.

“I was going to say submissive and not in the sexy way. I guess I’m just done with always being the one making decisions, always being the one in control.” You rationalized.

“You wanna be dominated.” She figured.

“Yes.” You agreed.

“You should have just asked.” She teased.

“Very funny” you smiled “but yes, I think that’s it. Like if we’re having sex, I want him to hold me down and fuck me you know, not just cuddle and dry hump me until his boners gone down.”

“Accounting done that?” She interrupted you, aghast.

“He said he only wanted to have sex romantically.”

“What does that even mean?” She laughed.

“Who knows?” You shrugged. “Maybe it means after a date?”

“So then what did he do the times he was just at your apartment?”

“Not get rid of spiders” you laughed “he was more of a friend really. We just watched films together and hung out.”

“Wow, that’s crazy.”

“I know.”

“Girl you need to get laid.”

“I knowww.”

“So, what’s the plan?” She grinned.

“I’m looking for a man that can remove spiders from the home and pin me against the wall.” You giggled.

Tags

@lokisgoodgirl @thenotoriouserg @chantsdemarins @donaweasley @xorpsbane @mcufan72 @loz-3 @evelyn-kingsley @sailorholly @lovingchoices14 @lokiedokiee @noideakitten @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokiprompts @lulubelle814 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958 @gigglingtiggerv2 @tmilover1993 @lyds247 @dustychinchilla74 @lokis-dark-queen

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#oc fiction #loki fanfiction #tom hiddelston loki #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki x avengers #avenger loki #loki x reader fic #loki imagine #loki au fic #loki au

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pray4byron · 2 months

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i meant to get to this a lot sooner but it slipped my mind as i completely forgot about it until i was scrolling through my posts so my apologies 😭😭

this was interesting to write for considering i’m not sure if husk or alastor would even want kids in the first place (more so alastor) but it definitely got me thinking!!

but anywho, here ya go, friend!!

Warnings: AFAB!Reader, pregnancy talk

Alastor

Alastor isn’t a very kid-loving kinda guy, but he’s very traditional, so he decided to follow tradition, and let his power travel to the next generation

You both end up having triplets, two boys, and a girl!!

Alastor wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but he didn’t think it’d be as challenging as it is, he originally thought his magic could help him through every obstacle and he is mistaken

Once his children are in his arms, his facade drops, his usual upbeat grin turns into a small, soft smile as he cradled them, stroking his daughters face.

Alastor is practically unfazed if they wake up in the middle of the night, as I headcanon he stays awake most hours of the night, so he’s in no rush to get the babies back to bed for whatever reason (But he will, dw haha)

Despite the fact that he’s an overlord, he really doesn’t do much, so most of the time he just stays at the hotel with the kids

He doesn’t understand the concept of playing with kids, especially when their in their first couple years, so when their just learning to stand he’ll play jazz music and swing his kids around the room with him as a way of dancing, hey, it’s a win-win, y’know?

If he does have to go out, he will most likely take his kids, but if it’s more than just a 10 minute outing — he does have Charlie babysit.

Like, if he’s going to the tailors, he’ll have two kids on each side of him, holding their hands softly, and the other kid on his shoulders, as they play with his ears (which no one else is allowed to do, not even you)

He doesn’t fully understand the concept of love, as you may or may not have guessed. He loves both you (his partner) and kids in his own special way, and he knows that, whether or not he’ll admit to someone outside of you guys is debatable, but he truly does love you and your kids.

He’s not very good at understanding his kids feelings, especially when their upset. For example, let’s say your daughter is crying over a boy in her teen years, first of all, he won’t hesitate to tear him the fuck apart, but he’ll sort of just stand their and watch her for a moment, wide grin as usual, but his eyes widen in shock before softening their gaze at her for a moment.

Anywho, about the powers, Alastor is eager for his kids to get his powers — even if it’s only one of them, as this is the first reason he wanted kids (which did shift a bit as time went on)

He is very precise with his kids about how these powers work, cause their strong, even if they had only gotten a small fraction of what Al uses, cause let’s be real, he’s fuckin’ tough

He explains how they can use these powers to their advantage, he also takes this opportunity to explain how a smile is a tool, so use it. No matter how they each individually choose how to use these powers, Alastor encourages all of his kids to follow their inner bliss, whatever that is

Husk

Like in the last post with marriage, Husk really couldn’t give a shit, but if you want it, Husk is willing to give it a shot

But let’s be real, Husk was much more willing to get married then have kids

After some convincing, you two decide to try for kids, he realistically only wants one though, so don’t get your hopes up

You guys have a girl! (woohoo!)

Husk, like Al and the others I’ve written for in this scenario, he didn’t expect to love his child as much as he did

While you were asleep in the hospital bed a little after giving birth, Husk takes your daughter, and a part of him (on the inside) cries a little, he looks at her proudly, before pecking her forehead, silently vowing to fight for her forever

Husk doesn’t have a lot of time to help out with the baby, he doesn’t get a lot of breaks from the bar a whole lot, so…

But when he does get time to spend with his daughter? Their usually sleeping together.

Like Husk with hold her in his arms and they’ll lay there and snore together

Husk isn’t too sure how to bond with his daughter before she’s learned to talk but he makes it work

Once she’s old enough, sarcasm becomes a big part of him and his daughter’s relationship, constantly making fun of eachother and giving eachother shit haha

When she’s in her teens she starts to develop Husk’s powers from when he was an overlord, and he feels like he’s gonna shit his pants, but he keeps his cool cause he knows your daughter is hyped

He heavily advises to her to not use them out of fear she’ll get hurt, but if she really wants it, he’ll teach her the basics, he won’t go into the extreme shit, cause she’s young and he doesn’t want her to have more strength than control

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roseykat · 5 months

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Hyunjin would be super attracted to someone that's not interested in him at first. My boy is so used to have people throw themselves at his feet wherever he goes that, the moment someone doesn't give him that same attention, he's hooked. He wants to, needs to know more of her.

And he gets very turned on when she speaks back at him and isn't easily impressed

oh this concept is so FUCKING good 😩 you’ve done it again 😍😍

He’d so try to get to know her without wanting to come across as a creep but it’s not his fault because he’s just so interested in her. It’d be so funny when he tries to make a move on her but she just brushes him off that it makes his ego sting a little bit since he’s not used to subtle rejection or just any type of rejection at that since as you mentioned, people throw themselves at Hyunjin.

When he starts hanging around her, she’ll ask him directly like ‘why do you always feel the need to follow me around?’, ‘haven’t you got anything else better to do?’ Or, ‘can’t you go hang out with your other friends or something?’

And he’d just sit there with twinkling hearts in his eyes, staring up at her, and straight up reply, saying:

‘Because I like you’,

‘I just think you’re the prettiest’,

Or ‘I think we’d look good together.’

She can’t really tell if Hyunjin is joking or not so doesn’t really take his answers for face value and just goes about her day. Every now and then she wonders what people actually see in him past his looks. She can admit that he’s attractive but doesn’t see any interest in Hyunjin.

For some odd reason, he likes being ignored like that. For her to talk to him in such a backhanded way. It makes him realise that she could say anything to him - insult him, call him stupid or something and he’d get hard. There are some things that he’ll never mention to her however, like the amount of times he’s jerked off to the thought of her, how he’d wrap his hand around his own throat and squeeze, trying to imagine that it was her hand. The way he moans her name whenever he spills over his own fist…

It’s feverish the way that he thinks about her and would love to make her his. That being said, he’s not a fan of forcing a connection. He wants to try his best to let things manifest themselves organically because he is really taken by her and thinks she’s special. Hence the slight obsession he has.

He can only imagine the things that people would think or say if they both started seeing each other. Most of the time people want Hyunjin solely for his looks or assume that he’s good in bed - which he is. So he takes pride in knowing that those people could only imagine that he fucks her well. That he sedates her with his cock every other night. How they wish that, that were them.

If she did end up going out with him, Hyunjin would be so grateful and even then would still continue to chase her love and attention.

#rosiewritesskz #skz smut #stray kids smut

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archie-sunshine · 21 days

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Okay but the swerve proposal ask made me think of something. Swerve would make an excellent selkie.

HEAR ME OUT OKAY

What if selkie swerve was so lonely and longed for human companionship enough that he’d go around purposely trying to leave his coat in obvious places so he’d have an excuse to stay with a human in a village. With his luck, it’d never work somehow, the coat staying untouched for days on end until swerve would have to collect it to go hunt since he hadn’t found a spouse and a place to stay. This kept going until he would literally start trying to give it away to anyone he thought had a chance of being interested, but no one would take it or would quickly return it if they did. Poor guy ☹️ I know a significant portion of your fanbase would gladly keep him (me included)

OUGHH ARGHH OW!! yeah i really like that idea- PERSONALLY- I wouldn't say it's canon to the au, but holy fuck that idea is. OW. OUCH....

I had to draw a happy ending to this hypothetical, im sorry i had to smear my skidswerve agenda on this glorious concept, but what if someone from out of town found it by accident?

#archie answers #transformers #my art #mtmte #skids #swerve #skidswerve #knightformers

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megamindsecretlair · 7 days

Note

Could you do a quick one shot where someone tries to flirt with the reader from vampire Tyrone. How does he react?

Chapter 5 Chapter 7

Pairing: Vampire!Tyrone x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. Public sex, PIV, cursing, AU Tyrone, Toxic Tyrone. Dark fic. Dirty talk. Mentions of blood, overstimulation. Slighty bratty reader. The concept of "rolling" is brought up when Tyrone is able to hypnotize reader, but it is consensual. Exhibition kink. This one is a littler darker, reader gets aroused by violence and violent thoughts. Non-inclusive language used.

Summary: A chance meeting at a club introduced you to the enigmatic Tyrone. He was interesting in ways that you weren't expecting. Back in Tyrone's world, full of heavy clouds of lust in the air, Tyrone catches you flirting with another man and he loses his mind.

Word Count: 4,101k

Midnight Sin Masterlist

A/N: Woooo, had to get this one off my chest! Are you sneaking a look at my outline, anon?? I swear I love jealousy in fiction! I don't tag ageless blogs. Toss a comment or reblog to save a writer!

Taglist: @planetblaque @westside-rot @umber-cinders @kindofaintrovert @notapradagurl7 @twocentuar @blackerthings @sevikasblackgf @beenathembo @theyscreamsannii @lovedlover @henneseyhoe @dayjlovesromance @melaninpov @blowmymbackout @miyuhpapayuh @soft-persephone @eggnox @browngirldominion @longpause-awkwardsmile @slippinninque @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @nworbaij

You felt desired. You bravely walked through the room in nothing but your panties and black high heels, parading around. Back at Tyrone’s sex house, he had been teasing you all night. He combined rolling with wine, and fingering with powerful kisses so now you were in a sex-crazed brain fog and loving every second.

You asked him to roll you and make you do something. It was a sign of extreme trust and you didn’t know where it came from. You only wanted to see what it was like once. If he could truly make you do anything and if you would remember or if it would feel like a dream.

You also told him that if he did anything that crossed one of your hard lines, he’d never see you again. Vampire or not. He promised to behave himself. You’d had many, many talks about your boundaries and his. He never wanted to make you uncomfortable.

That was why you were comfortable letting him roll you all night. God. If they could bottle this feeling and sell it, it’d be the fastest selling drug to ever exist.

The other vampires and donors, who were members of Tyrone’s club, looked at you as if you were the sexiest thing in this room. Tyrone rolled you to make you strip slow for him and walk around with your breasts out.

Getting pounded in front of a mirror was one thing. It felt like you and Tyrone were the only two people in the room, though he constantly reminded you that there was an audience. And they loved seeing you.

You still had your wits about you, but you had to do what Tyrone asked you to. You wanted to. Your clothes were too hot and itchy and you clawed them off, relishing the cool air that rushed over your skin.

The way Tyrone stared at you…like he wanted to eat you made you desperately horny. And now others stared at you too while you walked around. You modeled for them. Modeled your body. Modeled everything your mama and God gave you. And the men nodded appreciatively. The woman gave you knowing smirks.

You’d never felt more alive. More in control. Turn around for me. Tyrone’s voice whispered through your mind. You turned around, eyes searching for Tyrone. He stood at the other end of the playroom, one of many in his giant ass mansion. This one had dark walls and low lights strung across it.

In the middle of the room, there was a platform where a scene played out of a male vampire getting dominated by his female donor. She cracked the whip against the man’s flesh and tortured ecstasy sprang from his lips. Some in the room watched. There were chairs, tables, and couches set up around the room and some took advantage. There was also a room or three in the back for people who wanted a little privacy.

You, however, only had eyes for Tyrone. He only wore his briefs, so his chest was out and shining against the lighting. He would be an angel if he wasn’t a confirmed devil. You grinned in his direction. He was so gorgeous. So sexy. So otherworldly you wanted to pinch yourself. Come here.

Your foot moved without a second thought from you. You were aware that he was still in your mind, still commanding you. But you couldn’t stop moving towards him if you tried. It was freaky and exciting.

Kneel and crawl.

You stopped and then lowered yourself to your knees. Your wet pussy squelched and you bit back a moan. You were achingly wet, so hungry for Tyrone’s dick that you were ready to sing for it. You crawled to Tyrone, eyes eagerly on his.

He smirked and let you stop, not wanting you to hurt your knees on the rough floor. A loud crack split the air as the whip hit the vampire again. His moan was longer this time. He was getting his. Why the hell couldn’t you get yours?

Tyrone closed the distance and stared into your eyes. “Come back,” he said. His voice echoed in your mind. You felt like you were getting yanked through a pit of darkness.

“Come back,” he repeated. That pit of darkness was endless. You weren’t afraid just…reverent. Like there was something in the darkness with you that recognized a kindred spirit and winked.

Like death.

“Come back.” His voice stopped echoing and you stopped feeling the flighty, floaty feeling of rolling. It was a trip being pulled back into reality, but Tyrone wanted to give your mind a rest.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You nodded. You wanted to tell him about the odd visions and feelings in your mind whenever he rolled you. You weren’t sure if it would give him concern or if he would stop. You had lunch with Nikki tomorrow. You needed more answers.

Tyrone answered as much as he could, but it seemed like he acknowledged that you were unprepared but was unwilling to teach you more. If there was something bad waiting for you at the end of this, you were going to be pissed.

Tyrone kissed your cheek and held your hands. “I’m going to make sure everyone is behaving and bring you some water,” he said. “That means you behave too.”

You smiled at him. He was so damn cute. “I always behave myself,” you said.

Tyrone shook his head and moved away lightning fast. You moved about the room. No one approached you. No one talked to you. You could only guess that it was Tyrone’s doing. Everyone too busy being afraid of him than to extend a hand to you.

They still looked at your body, at your breasts. They could probably smell how needy you were. How wet you were, clenching around nothing. Wishing Tyrone would go on and fuck you.

You were surrounded by debauched people, each giving in to carnal desires right before your eyes. You scooted around a couch where a couple was practically in each other’s laps. They got each other off, staring deeply into each other’s eyes.

There was still the vampire on stage. You stopped and stared at him, at his prone form in supplication to his donor. She was a gorgeous, thick Black woman with tightly curled hair in puff balls on her head. She wore nothing but high heels, digging that heel into his side.

“Are you okay, baby?” The donor asked.

“Yes, yes, yes,” the man said, chanting like he wasn’t really here anymore. Even though the donor was in charge, there was genuine love and affection between them. They constantly checked in on each other, knowing exactly when to push and when to pull back.

Would that be you and Tyrone one day? Would you let everyone look at you while Tyrone dominated you so publicly? Your thoughts turned sour as you imagined a future with Tyrone. One in which you start to get older, wrinkly. If you managed to live that long.

“I thought these things were supposed to be arousing. Why you frownin’?” Tyrone asked from behind and off to the side of you. You started to turn around.

“Mhm, eyes forward,” he said. He sounded…different. Like his voice got deeper or he scratched his vocal cords on something. Tyrone’s voice was always deep, but this one seemed different.

You faced forward, interested in this new game of Tyrone’s. You watched the couple on stage.

“I am aroused,” you said. If he would fuckin’ touch you, he’d know that. Maybe you just weren’t used to denying yourself an orgasm. Your previous lovers were ehh. Certainly nothing to write home about. Certainly nothing like Tyrone who could say two words and have your panties dropping to the floor.

Your pussy throbbed and you rubbed your thighs together. Your panties were ruined at this point. You wanted to be ruined.

“Why do you smell so good?” He asked. He took a deep sniff and you shivered.

You huffed, the breathy sound burning your lungs. You were out of your mind with desire. You didn’t have another rolling in you if he didn’t touch you. Your body felt acutely aware of everything he did. He stepped closer, running a finger down your side.

You moaned, that much contact from him was too much to bear. Your skin tingled where his finger had been. Your breathing increased, feeling like a rabbit caught in a wolf’s path.

Tyrone stepped even closer, dropping a simple kiss to your neck. He smelled different. You tilted your head, confused about his presence. Something was telling you that something was off. Something was wrong with Tyrone.

You turned your head but Tyrone roughly grabbed your chin and pushed it away from him. “You are too damn beautiful to be standing here by yo’self,” he said.

“Ty-” You went to say but he was suddenly away from you. Snarls filled the room. You turned to your left and then did a double take.

Tyrone stood next to…Tyrone. There were two of them? There were two of them. Only, the other wasn’t half dressed like everyone in the room. He still wore dark jeans and a hoodie. His hair was wilder, kinkier, sticking up and away from his head. He had a bigger beard than your Tyrone and grills in his mouth.

He smiled, running his tongue along his golden, elongated canine tooth. He gave your Tyrone a wink. “Little brother,” he said. He held out his hands as if inviting your Tyrone in for a hug.

You were so confused, your head bobbing back and forth like you were watching a tennis match. The intensity of the room seeped away to curiosity and nosiness. The moans and groans and curses stopped. There was only your Tyrone and the…other Tyrone. You were still trying to wrap your mind around that.

“She’s mine, Fontaine,” Tyrone said. There was your man. Deep voice, but with a thick LA accent.

Fontaine, the other Tyrone, tilted his head at you. His eyes raked over your body but you didn’t feel the need to cover up. Everyone saw your body tonight, he’d already gotten an eyeful. “Must be special, little brother,” Fontaine said.

He looked at you and his red eyes seemed to swirl in the low lighting. His face clouded over like he’d just inhaled something delicious. “Smells really good in here,” he said. He stepped in your direction and Tyrone punched him.

“She’s mine,” Tyrone said once more.

Fontaine smiled, blood pooling in his mouth before he licked his lips. “Heard you the first time,” he said.

“Tyrone, what the hell is this?” You asked.

Tyrone rolled his neck and then looked at you. He held out his hand but you were too nervous to take it. He looked feral. Animalistic. But you still got the sense that he was holding back. That he refused to show you the monster beneath.

You stepped closer but only eyed his hand. If you touched him, you’d get distracted. Tyrone was a sin in and of himself. One touch and then you’d be on hands and knees sucking him off.

He withdrew, staring at his lonely hand before turning to Fontaine. “This is my brother, Fontaine,” Tyrone said. He introduced you by your name and Fontaine said it a few times, getting the hang of it.

“Nice to meet you,” Fontaine said.

“Tyrone? Explain?” You asked.

“My brother is usually on the East Coast or overseas. It’s rare for him to make it back West. It’s been some time since he’s been here last,” Tyrone said.

“I didn’t even know you had a brother,” you said. You looked at Fontaine. They were eerily similar. And yet wildly different. Fontaine seemed rougher around the edges. Like he liked to pull on girl’s hair while he disrespected your soul.

“Tyrone don’t never talk about me. He knows I’m usually the one picking up the pretty girls,” he said with a wink. You rolled your eyes, but smiled a little. The next punch to Fontaine’s face made you gasp.

You didn’t see Tyrone move. You didn’t see him cross the short distance and knock Fontaine’s head to the side. Red fire lit up Tyrone’s eyes as he looked at his brother. Fontaine wiped his mouth, another bloody smile for Tyrone.

“I’m going to find some hole to stick this long dick into. You get tired of him, find me,” Fontaine said. He winked at you and then looked at Tyrone. “I’ll see you later.”

The threat was evident in Fontaine’s tone. He slunk off through the room, leaving entirely. Tyrone had other playrooms, you’d yet to see them all. You wondered what else Fontaine was into.

“Did he touch you?” Tyrone asked.

“I thought it was you,” you said, biting your lip. Fuck. Did you screw all of this up? Were your days of being a donor over now because he never told you to be on the lookout for someone who looked and talked like him?

“Where?” Tyrone asked. He stepped closer to you, hands gripping your arms. It wasn’t hurtful. It was more like desperation. Like you were the only thing keeping him sane at the moment. If he let go, there was no telling where his mind would go.

You floundered for what to say. Fontaine hadn’t really done anything bad to you. Nothing worse than what you dealt with on a daily basis growing up a woman. Tyrone looked so pissed…until his dick slapped against your thigh. You looked down at the growing tent in his pants. He was…turned on?

“He only touched my side. And kissed my neck,” you said.

Tyrone’s nostrils flared. Without a word, he moved from the room. There were too many people looking at you. Vampires with fangs bared like they wanted some of what you were having. You were confused and horny and you weren’t sure if you wanted answers at the exclusion of a dicking down, or to hope you getting dicked down didn’t mess with your desire to have answers.

Tyrone dragged you up the stairs and to his side of the house. In his bedroom, no sooner had he closed the door than did he slam your back against it. His kiss was punishing, hard, and rough.

His breathing fanned over your face. He panted so hard like he’d just run a marathon. He ran his thumb over your lip, cupping your jaw and tilting your head. “You’re mine,” he said.

His dark, red eyes still had that feral glint. He wasn’t all there, not truly. You weren’t sure where his mind went. But you hoped he stayed there a little longer. You liked that he was taking off the kid gloves. You wanted to see him unleash that tight hold on his control.

“Is that so?” You asked. You didn’t know where this wild, reckless part of you was coming from. This fascination with toying with a deadly creature. It was like you were flirting with your own mortality. You’d spent so long worried about the curse, that you started to admire it. Study it. Tease it.

Tyrone’s grip tightened around your neck. You groaned, tilting your head up and rolling your eyes. Tyrone stepped closer, pushing his erection against your belly.

“I’m not fuckin’ around right now. I’ll allow a lot of things, little doll, but this ain’t one of them. I’ll kill anybody that look in your direction,” he said.

Shivers wracked your body. You stared into his red eyes. He had to know, right? He had to sense how turned on you were. You rubbed against his erection, palming him. He hissed and moved away. He used his free hand to grab your wandering one and pin it against the door.

You still had your left hand free and you moved it closer to his body. You slipped your fingers beneath his black briefs. He was still shirtless from your little game earlier. When you found his dick once more, you rubbed him.

“I can’t be held responsible for shit you didn’t tell me,” you said.

Tyrone’s eyes widened before he smirked. “You trynna be cute right now?” He asked.

“Telling the truth,” you said.

Tyrone chuckled. Too fast for your brain to comprehend, your cheek was pressed against the cool, smooth wood. One of Tyrone’s hands pinned both of your wrists behind your back. You hadn’t felt like you moved. One minute you faced him, one minute you didn’t.

Tyrone leaned down and bit your ear. Hard. You cried out, a big wave of arousal flooding your panties again. “Ty-Ty–” You shivered.

“I’on usually deal with brats, so we gon’ fix you,” he said.

He moved behind you and then he was pulling your panties to the side, grabbing his dick and swirling it through your dripping entrance. You cried a wretched sound. You were incredibly sensitive. Too sensitive.

He hadn’t done anything yet and you were ready to explode. He got the tip wet with your juices and then slipped inside you. You gasped, bucking away from the door. Tyrone shushed you, kissing along your ear and neck. He found a spot just below your ear that made you giggle. It felt good, but was too sensitive to hold for long.

“Nothin’ more to say? It only took one hit?” He teased, nibbling on your ear. He could bite into you at any moment. You didn’t tell him, but you loved when he drank from you. When he gained energy just by biting into your soft flesh.

“If that’s all you got, then you can’t really claim me,” you said, taunting him back.

Tyrone chuckled. He looped his arm around your torso, grabbing hold of your titty like he was holding a liferaft. His fingers toyed with your nipples while he started to stroke roughly, making you take his big dick. Incoherent moans left you, crying with every deep stroke.

“This pussy know who own it,” he growled in your ear. “Feel how wet she is. Takin’ this dick too fuckin’ well.” He moaned in your ear and you nearly came undone right then and there.

He stroked deeper, groaning as he found a new angle. “My fuckin’ pussy,” he moaned.

He stroked harder and it sounded like you were stirring thick cake batter. It was wet. It was lewd. Tyrone had you against the door like he couldn’t wait for the bed. Like he needed you at the first opportunity you weren’t around other people.

Like he couldn’t wait. Like he needed you.

Tyrone had your arm pinned so you couldn’t leverage yourself against him. Your heels dug into the carpet of his room and you were amazed that you hadn’t toppled over yet. “Oh fuck!” You shrieked. “Dick feelin’ so good.”

“I know it do. This all mine,” he said. To prove his point, he angled his hips against until he was thrusting up and hitting that perfect spot that made your eyes cross. You climaxed, screaming to the rooftop with the force of your orgasm.

It was unbelievable. Primal. Beast and prey. Prey and beast. There was nothing but the underlying drive to fuck. To copulate. To poke and be poked.

You shook on Tyrone’s dick while he continued to stroke. “Mhf, gonna fuck this shit outta this pussy till you beg me to stop,” he moaned.

“Don’t stop,” you moaned, twitching on his dick while he continued to take his pleasure from your body.

“Can’t stop,” he groaned. The sound of him deep in it made you moan even louder, rivaling him at this point. You loved a vocal man. The way he didn’t care about what he looked or sounded like. Your pussy was just that damn good where he couldn’t stay quiet. He had to let you know.

Whether it was by the way he squeezed your nipples past the point of pain, or your wrists bound by his hand, or the wet and aggressive smack of his balls on your clit.

“Fuuuuck,” Tyrone moaned, unleashing a hot sticky load into you. You moaned, dropping your head against the door.

Still, Tyrone kept fucking you. The force of his dick inside was keeping you upright. You slid up and down his dick like he was your personal toy and you squealed and moaned. “Don’t fuckin’ stop, don’t fuckin’ stop,” you moaned. You were on the heels of another orgasm.

Tyrone kept his same pace, but angled his hips again. He pushed into your hips until you were practically flush with the door. He dropped your nipple and it grazed the door. You hissed from the cold and it bloomed into unnameable pleasure.

Tyrone slapped your ass, moaning as your ass jiggled from it. “So fuckin’ gorgeous. I’ll never let anyone else have you,” he moaned.

And fuck if that thought didn’t send you over the edge. Your nails clawed at the door as you whined, panting, huffing, lungs burning, and knees wobbling. You felt like you were being burned from the inside out and you liked it.

As if sensing your thoughts, Tyrone cursed through an orgasm of his own, your name on his tongue. His hips jerked and twitched, but he still sloppily slammed into you. His cum began to seep out of you, leaking down your legs. You moaned from the weird sensation. You were full and not full enough.

Each encounter with Tyrone felt like he was splitting you in half. You lived in a sea of dichotomy. Living in excess and moderation. Bliss and pain. Where ‘stop’ hovered on your lips but your brain knew not to make you say.

Your mind drifted into some other realm. A space in your mind where you were at home in your body. Completely in yourself and not only feeling the pleasure, but your overly analytical brain finally shut off.

A silent hum of pleasure vibrated along your skin. His hand massaged your ass. His other had your wrists against your lower back. Sweat dropped from him and onto your back and ass. Sweat gathered in all of your crevices.

Huffing pants of ecstasy filled the air. Tangled with moans and soft fucks. “I-ca-can–” You stuttered.

“Sure you can. You was big and bad earlier, where that go?” He asked.

It was on the tip of your tongue to apologize. To take it back. But Tyrone wasn’t done. He slowed down, letting more of his cum slip out of you before pushing back in. You heard the wet noises and it made you clench harder around his dick.

For what seemed like hours, there was a call and response to your orgasms. Tyrone came over and over inside you, an endless supply of cum. He said he had decades worth of cum to give you. Every time he came, you were hot on his heels. Coming with loud, raucous moans. Your throat was dry and ragged.

No more than bursts of air escaped you. Your face was covered with tears and snot. You lost track of how many times you came. You were going to be sore as fuck in the morning. You were sore now. Tyrone absolutely bullied your pussy and the sick part of you wanted to hurry and recover so you could do it all over again.

“No more,” you whispered. Tyrone panted beside you. Rivulets of sweat ran down his body. He smirked.

“No more, little doll,” he said. He planted a kiss on your forehead. He massaged feeling back into your arms, having been kept in the same position too long. He apologized but that was the least of your worries.

The floor beneath you was wet with your combined, nasty juices. Your legs wobbled with aftershocks from a deep fucking and you sighed dreamily, ready to fall asleep. You thought getting fucked to sleep had been a myth when you were younger. Tyrone changed all notions about that.

You didn’t notice that Tyrone had lifted you and placed you on the bed. You didn’t notice that he was placing you down into a warm hot bath. He slid in behind you and kissed your neck and back, cleaning you off from what you shared. You tried to kiss him back, but he told you to relax.

“Don’t you fuckin’ say sorry neither,” you mumbled before you passed out, tucked softly into his bed. This wasn’t his resting place, but it damn sure smelled like him. Like home. You curled up and went right to sleep.

Masterlist | Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

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