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frenchkisstheabyss · 1 day

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♡ Sympathy for the Devil ♡

♡ Pairings: mobster!boyfriend!jimin x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: mafia au/angst/smut

♡ Summary: After an arguement with your boyfriend, you set out to get back at him by bringing a date to the restaurant he frequents on a night you know he'll be there. It's a dangerous game, toying with another human life to get your way, but you do love danger, don't you? You wouldn't be looking to make a killer jealous if you didn't.

♡ Word Count: 3.2k

♡ Warnings: appearance of other members (non romantic), dom Jimin w/ switch vibes sprinkled in, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, rough sex, clit teasing, marking (hickeys), pet names (baby), you're feral for each other, fingering (f receiving), spanking, you give him a lil slap, choking, bathroom sex, possessiveness, jealousy, you're both kinda psychotic, implied murder, & that's it for the list of wholesome things in this fic.

♡ A/N: I'm such a sucker for mafia movies so I have the biggest soft spot for mafia fics. I want to thank @anyamaris for reading this first and encouraging me along the way when I was struggling with writer's block. Idk what I'd do without my #1 cheerleader for my dom Jimin agenda ❤️

Some of the prettiest animals in nature are simultaneously the deadliest. Park Jimin is no exception...

It’s impossible not to be enchanted by him. His face is a heavenly mixture of handsomeness and beauty. The cadence of his voice is like a song you can’t quite get out of your head and just when you think you have it’s back again. It’s all enough to make a girl blind to the blood on his hands.

Falling in love with him made the rest of the world all fuzzy. It blurred out everything. Not just the money laundering or the drug trafficking. To love him, to be loved by him, makes everything else feel like background noise. You've never touched a hard drug in your life but, the way he makes you feel, he must qualify as one.

That’s why you’re here doing the dumbest shit you’ve ever done in your life.

Arguments are inevitable in relationships. But arguments when you’re dating a mob guy? They’re different beasts entirely and it’s a bitch to tame them. Your last argument with Jimin led to you packing a bag and running off to your best friend’s place. In the beginning you never had to question if you came before everything else. You were special to him—at least you thought you were—and he’d stop anything to be with you.

But lately that hasn’t been the case. He’s been replacing his presence in your life with gifts, thinking he can make up for missed dates and lonely nights with designer bags. Maybe the other girlfriends are content with cuddling up to some ugly mink coat in place of their man but you aren’t one of them.

He just can’t seem to get that through his thick skull so you’ve set out to make him. If the death stare he’s giving you across this bustling restaurant is any indication of how your plan’s going, it’s working like a charm. You spent hours styling your hair just the way he likes it. Elegant and sleek, marrying beautifully with the softness of your face.

Your manicured nails are painted a translucent blue that deepens the slightest bit when the light hits it a certain way. The dress you’re wearing accentuates your curves in all the places he loves which, let’s be honest, is everywhere. And your heels, the heels, somehow makes your ass look more perfect than it already is. All of this and you’re sitting at a table having dinner with another man.

You spot Namjoon throwing an arm around Jimin’s shoulder, no doubt leaning in to give him one of his infamous pep talks. "Don’t worry about her” he’s surely saying, “It’s not worth it, man. See, sometimes love is just…” Joon goes on, doing his best to keep his younger brother from doing something stupid but Jimin’s hardly listening. How can he when his blood’s boiling hot enough to eat its way through his flesh?

Every Sunday night the brothers and their girlfriends come here for dinner. The owners, a sweet elderly couple, love them as if they were their own and give them the biggest table no matter how packed it is. This is the one night they get to pretend they’re a normal family. It’s tradition and you don’t fuck with tradition. Everyone knows that. You know that.

“The thing a lot of women don’t understand is that men by nature aren’t monogamous” your date rambles between messy bites of dinner. The man’s not ugly by any means but god is he a pig, in more ways than one. Not that you’re complaining. It’s why you had your best friend set you up with him. Whoever you bought here was no doubt being led to slaughter. Who better than a pig?

A chill runs through you at the ruthlessness of your own thoughts, wiping the smile from your face. Looking up, Jimin captures you in his gaze, the death glare replaced with a look of childlike amusement. It’s as if the smile had fled from your face to find its new home on his, taunting you from afar. What’s he smiling for? You’re not foolish enough to think it’s for anything good.

“I was thinking, it’s kinda loud in here. Wanna go to my place?” your date asks, his poor attempt at getting laid tonight falling on deaf ears.

Jimin stands up, slipping out of his suit jacket as he does so. Rolling up the sleeves of his pressed dress shirt, he leans to whisper something in Yoongi’s ear. Yoongi pours him a shot and he knocks it back like it’s nothing. The rest of the table watches on, concerned but doing their best to carry on dinner as usual. Their collective heart rate increases but none more than yours.

Maybe you hadn’t really thought this one out. Noticing the color drain from your face, your date reaches out to touch your hand. “Don’t!” you snap, jumping up from your seat. “I’m sorry. I just need a second.” Jimin’s halfway across the dining room when you flee toward the bathroom, nearly knocking into some poor innocent waiter in the process.

Navigating your way through the halls, you scramble to find a way out. You’ll tell the guy you’re sick. That’s it. Say you’re not feeling too well, must be the food or something, and send him on his way. Pretend this never happened.

“Beautiful dress, darling” an older woman smiles as she leaves the bathroom. You dash in before the door closes behind her, peeking your head back out to avoid being rude. “Thank you!” you shout after her, quickly shutting the door and hurrying to the sink to splash some water on your face.

“Snap out of it” you whisper, flicking specks of icy water at the makeup you worked tirelessly to apply. “Maybe…maybe he won’t do anything, right? We’re in public. He wouldn’t—” You force a weak, pained smile at the girl staring back at you in the mirror. “Who are you kidding?” you groan, burying your face in your hands, “He’s gonna kill him.”

“But you knew that already, didn’t you?” sighs a voice that is distinctively not yours. Your hands drop from your face and there Jimin is, standing in the doorway with that same smile on. The one he’d so brutally ripped from your face. And here you are, shivering like a child too afraid of the monster under the bed to make a run for it.

In all your panic you could’ve sworn you locked the door when, in fact, you’d done no such thing. If he’d knocked you would’ve had to open it anyway—you’ve never been great at saying no to him—but at least you would’ve given yourself a fighting chance. Nothing to stress your pretty little head about. Jimin steps in, easing the door closed, and you hear a sharp click. It’s locked now.

The heels of his black Louboutin shoes tap against the polished tile as he approaches the sink. Your heart jumps with each tap, the sound growing unbearably louder the closer he gets. Jimin brings his arms around your waist, holding you as only lovers do, “You want me to hurt him, don’t you? Want me to break every bone in his body to show you how much I love you?” His full lips brush against your neck, soft tongue running along the surface of your skin like the head of a match ready to light up with dazzling flames.

Your eyes are glued to the mirror, watching helplessly as his hands skate up and down your body, fingertips ghosting your most sensitive areas. His touch is a truth serum, forcing you to betray yourself and lay your motives bare. “You protect the things you love, Jimin. I only wanted to know if I was still one of them. Even if that meant…” you shudder at the thought. “We get what we want by any means. That’s what you taught me, isn’t it?”

Jimin grins, locking eyes with your reflection as he inches your dress up to reveal your pillowy thighs. “Aah but you already have me. I let you throw your little tantrum but I’ll never let you go. You know that.” His fingers dip between the warmth of your thighs, teasing your clit through your panties.

“So why?” he whispers, his other hand coming up to lovingly stroke your neck, “Why would you try to embarrass me?”

You part your lips to speak but your words are forced back down by the sudden pressure applied to your windpipe by his hand. All that escapes are broken words and hushed gasps for air. The light abandons his eyes, that boyish charm he so effortlessly wields burning to ash as you squirm in his grip. You kick your legs to get free but it only serves to give him the room he needs to tear your panties to the side, the pads of his fingertips dripping with your arousal as they glide through your folds.

He loosens his grip on your neck and you manage to rasp out “Mmm…sorry…didn’t mean” before you’re plunged back into silence. Curling his fingers against your entrance, he sinks one into your core. A single digit pumping into needy walls that are already clenching in anticipation of the next one. Snatching your head back, he kisses you like he hates you. Hates you so much that he loves you. Loves you so much that he hates you. A cycle, endless and all consuming, that neither of you can break from.

“Prove it to me” he demands between your lips, plunging another finger into you, “Bend over and show me how sorry you are.” Your back arches, bringing your soft ass flush against his bulge. You press back into him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass each time his fingers slam into your core. Jimin sneaks a glimpse at the mirror to watch the way your body jiggles from the motion. Thighs trembling, tits rocking in sync with the harsh movements of his wrist.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, baby.” Jimin slips his hand away from your neck, drenched fingers abandoning your pussy to apply sharp, wet slaps to your ass.

Spinning around to face him, you land an equally sharp slap across his face, “Choke me like that again and I’ll rip your head off.”

If the burning of your palm is any indication, you know you hit him hard but he’s unphased. He's actually smiling, licking his lips at you like you’re the most delicious thing in this restaurant. He sweeps you off of your feet, setting you down on the sink, “So. Fucking. Pretty.”

The marble’s even colder against your bottom than it was your hands but you don’t give a shit. Jimin’s tongue’s down your throat as he pushes your dress up, ripping away what was left of your panties. That’s the only thing you give a shit about.

“Jimin!” you giggle, tugging at the zipper on his pants, “You’re gonna make me fall.”

Hooking his arms behind your knees, he spreads your legs, pushing them to your chest. “Don’t worry, baby. I won’t let you fall.”

“Promise?” you pout, fingertips tracing the veins along his length.

They pulse and twitch as he raises his hips, dragging the underside of his cock between your folds. “I promise. I won’t—aah, shit, baby” he moans, his cock glazed in your arousal without having even been inside of you yet. “I didn’t know you missed me that much.”

You grab onto his shirt, the cotton knotted in your fists as you bask in the feeling of the head brushing your clit. “I did. Missed you so much” you mewl, guiding him to your entrance. Jimin peppers your cheeks with kisses, pushing into you. Filling you. Claiming you. “I, mmphh, missed, fuck, missed you too” he confesses, each word emphasized by thrusts that have you wanting to climb every wall in this bathroom.

When it comes to women Jimin’s told more lies than he can remember but never with you. He misses you and he means it, misses you so much that it hurts. Not just because you take his cock so well, somehow managing to look majestic when you’re being fucked up against this mirror. But because he feels incomplete without you.

Before you all he knew was violence and greed, constantly chasing power that would never be enough. Always needing more. He often wondered how much money it would take, how many buried enemies, to fill the emptiness that’s haunted him for as long as he can remember. And then you came along—the girl whose eyes twinkle as she stares up at him, your entire body calling out his name—and he had his answer.

All he needed to cure that emptiness, rid him of the nagging feeling that something’s missing, was you. But men like him have an image to maintain. In this world people come to know you for things, fear you for them, and you can’t let them think you’re soft. Not for a second. Not if you want to get what you want. “We get what we want by any means”. That is what he told you but nothing’s worth having if it’s by way of losing you.

Dragging you to the edge of the sink, heart thumping out of his chest from how tightly you’re clenching, he whispers into your open mouth, “Come home. I’m in hell without you. Everything’s so…so empty. Just say you’ll come back to me. Say it.”

“I-I’ll come back home. Fuck, I’ll go the moon if you want me to” you pant, watery eyes sending mascara streaming down your cheeks. You tug harder at his shirt, sending a button or two clinking into the mirror. He’s in you so deep, hitting every spot like only he knows how, that you’re ready to explode. Implode? One or the other. Maybe both.

Jimin laughs, his tongue grazing yours, “You wanna go to the moon, baby? Hold onto me. I’ll take you.”

Knowing better than to doubt him, you throw your arms over his shoulders and hold on like your life depends on it. The sink creaks beneath you as he fucks harder into a pussy that just won’t stop leaking for him. You lose control of your body. All of it belongs to him, as it should. You make no attempts at denying yourself the ultimate satisfaction when it hits. Your lips crash together as you climax, your moans, bordering on screams, pouring onto his tongue.

He eagerly devours them, returning some of his own as your walls spasm wildly, milking the cum from his swollen tip. Your cunt wants every drop of it and he’s determined to give it to you. Fill you up until it’s dripping out of you, making your thighs warm and sticky with his seed. Your body gives out and he tucks an arm behind you, sticking to his promise not to let you fall.

Staring up at the ceiling, you’re sure you see space, stars twinkling before your eyes as you float there, completely weightless. Jimin’s lips meet your heaving chest, suckling at your silky skin to leave hickeys along your collarbone.

“Mine. All mine” he repeats, “Love you so much.”

You run your fingers through his hair as he marks you, letting yourself get lost in the moment. “I love you too.”

“Excuse me, sir. You’re holding up the bathroom” a comically high pitched voice says, tapping at the bathroom door. Jimin drags himself upright, knowing the voice too well. “You okay?” he asks, shuffling to make you both look presentable. He tries to fix your dress but there’s no use, he’s stretched it out more than he has you.

“Baby, it’s fine” you giggle, shooing him away, “I got it.”

Jimin unlocks the door, snatching it open to reveal precisely who you both expected. “Thank god!” Jungkook cheers, rushing into the bathroom and over to the toilet. “Whose idea was it to have one bathroom here, man? I’ve had to piss for like—” Reading the look on Jimin’s face, he follows his gaze over to the sink where you sit buzzed off of the afterglow with your tattered panties at your feet.

Jungkook grins, looking you both up and down, “Safe to say you two are having a good night, huh?”

Jimin hits Jungkook in the back of the head, walking over to help you down from the sink. He holds you close to him, kissing you as he steers you towards the door. “Is it done?” Jimin asks over his shoulder but you don’t hear Jungkook’s response. It’s drowned out by the symphony of sounds that assault you as you venture back out into the restaurant, Jimin’s arms still holding you tight. Scanning the restaurant you spot the table you were at with your date but now there’s another couple there.

“Long time no see!” Jin says, jumping up to hug you. His girlfriend follows behind, hugging you like she hasn’t seen you in years. “Come sit with me” she insists, noticing your disheveled appearance, “I’ll fix you right up. I have everything in my purse.” You settle into the chair beside her and she goes straight to work cleaning the mascara from your face.

Jimin sits beside you, an arm draped over the back of your chair, and watches attentively as you get your makeup done. “Nice to have you back” Taehyung smiles, pulling something from under the table and passing it to you. Jimin sets them down before you—your jacket and your purse. You’d forgotten them at the table when you fled to the bathroom.

“Uh, thanks, I—” you stutter, cut off by Hoseok’s sudden reappearance at the end of the table. You’d seen him earlier but hadn’t noticed his seat was empty when you returned. He tries to play it off, hide it behind a smile, but he’s out of breath, utterly exhausted from something. The men glance around the table at each other. It’s a silent conversation you know you shouldn’t be in on.

“Jimin” you whisper, when you’re sure you aren’t interrupting, “Where’s…”

Jimin casually pours you both a drink, presenting you with a glass of wine. “Where’s who?”

“The guy that I was…”

“The guy that you were what, baby?” he asks, brow crinkling as he feigns ignorance. “You’ve been here with me all night, haven’t you?” He turns to the rest of the table who all seem to share his collective memory loss. “Hasn’t she?”

“Absolutely.”

“Yeah.”

“Been here all night.”

“See? Now enjoy your drink and finish getting your makeup done” he coos, kissing you on the cheek.

Just like that, everyone resumes their conversations like it’s any other Sunday night dinner. You take a sip of your wine, the post-orgasm haze finally lifts from your brain, and all of the pieces come together in your mind. You shake the truth away, opting instead for the constructed reality necessary to pretend you just didn’t get a man killed.

What date? What guy? You’ve been here all night with Jimin. The man you came here with. The man you’ll leave here with. The man you love too much to ever run away from again. Unless, of course, you want to raise the homicide rate.

#bts x reader #bts x you #bts smut #bts angst #jimin x reader #jimin smut #jimin angst #jimin x you #bts au #bts au fanfic #bts mafia au #jimin au #chubby reader #plus size reader #bts x fem!reader #park jimin x reader

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artstatues · 23 hours

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Jealousy, jealousy. - m.r × reader.

wc : 573

pairings : mattheo riddle x fem! reader, from the harry potter fanbase/fandom.

synopsis : cedric diggory took you out on a date to three broomsticks, unknowingly causing a particular slytherin to get jealous.

warnings :

a/n : short? yes. cringy? kinda. anyways, giving me flashbacks. but pansy in this fic, or in any of my slytherin works, is alice pagani pansy, not hp pansy parkinson cz that pansy's a bitch. reader is an absolute bitch and no this was nor proofread

taglist : @never-enough-novels, @urbanflorals, @kozumesphone, @reyna-obsessed, @off-to-the-r4ces, @mqstermindswift ( ik u didnt do the form nor ask but i feel like you'd want to be tagged )

Cedric Diggory had just dropped you off to the Slytherin common room. He asked on a date a week ago, and you had to keep rescheduling it because of your studies and other plans. You never liked the guy anyway, you are just being nice. Your friends; Pansy, Theo and Mattheo were all in the common room, a bottle of beer in each one’s hands. “How was the date?” Pansy sat up while offering you a bottle. “Thanks.” You muttered before sitting down next to her. “It was okay, eh.” You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. “Softie.” Theo rolled his eyes from the couch across. “He’s been asking me the whole week-! What was I supposed to do?” You exclaimed exaggeratedly. “Beat him up.” Mattheo suggested with a tilt of his head, earning a chuckle from Theo. “Where’d Blaise go?” He was here when you left, everyone was here, actually. “Hogsmeade with Malfoy.” Pansy explained next to you. Off to a bookstore, then. You guessed. Theo chugged the rest of his drink before announcing his leave to his dorm room. Mattheo’s been quiet since his remark, previously, you observed. You snuck a quick glance at him. His eyes on you, the beer still in his hands, his eyebrows knitted. According to Pansy, you didn’t just sneak a glance, causing her to get up and down her drink before saying, “I’m leaving, weird ass tension happening here.” And with that she left. “Thoughts on my date?” You inquired Mattheo while fixing your posture and taking another sip at your drink. He scoffed in response. “Okay-” You rolled your eyes. You could feel his eyes following your movements. “Jealous then, Riddle?” You mocked with a lazy smirk on your face. “Maybe.” He shrugged, finishing his bottle of beer. You laughed, like literally laughed, earning a glare from him. “Anything funny?” He spat. “Quite so, really. You being jealous of Diggory is comedic to me.” You grinned teasingly. “Yeah, maybe I am jealous over the fact that you go out with all the boys that’s walked in this school.” Mattheo remarked, rather acidic. “Said who?” Your tone changed, and clearly not for the better. “I don’t know! Ask around, I’m sure they’d agree. I know Nott agrees.” He snapped. You were actually taken aback by him. Something was wrong with him and you had no idea what that could be. It wasn’t the alcohol, definitely. He’s only had 1 bottle– actually. You didn’t know if that was his first bottle or not. “Are you okay?” You furrowed your eyebrows, you were actually concerned, for him and yourself. “Was that supposed to be offensive? Either way, I’m not.” He jeered. “And why’s that?” You questioned further. “You.” His eyes locked with yours, and funnily, it was actually intimidating. “Hm?” You quipped. You were definitely pissing him off. Ha. “Stop it. Stop. I’m fucking serious, stop. Don’t, really don’t. I think- no– wait, I know, that I’m in love with you and yes I was fucking jealous over that stupid Hufflepuff, but don’t– just don’t. Don’t tempt me, don’t tease me, please don’t.” He snapped, like, full on snapped, but he tried keeping his volume down since it was the Slytherin common room, where all gossip begins. He sounded desperate. Which you thought was quite pathetic. “Ah! You’re in love with me!” You sarcastically exclaimed, causing him to slam his bottle on the table before leaving.

#mattheo riddle #slytherin x reader #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x you #harry potter #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #my work

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obssessivethorn · 2 days

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More Yuu Headcanons

Here are some more TWST headcanons of our favorite little shrimpy prefect that I pulled from the depths of my mind which needed to be freed. This mainly builds off of my first Yuu hc, so take a look at that if you'd like!

[Yuu Makes Constant References No One Else Gets]

Yuu humming/singing Two of Hearts if they’re in a relationship w/ Ace or just hanging out with him as a friend

Yuu refers to the cast as handsome as a casual fact and is surprised when most of them are confused/surprised/flustered by this

“What? The guys in this school are handsome. That’s kinda just a fact.”

Yuu being nostalgic on their Birthday

Deuce: “I bet your family’s celebrating your birthday even if you’re not there.”

Yuu: (hopeful) “yeah. Or, who knows, this could be a whole Narnia situation and no time has passed there at all.”

Ace: “Narnia?”

Yuu: (somber) “oh, just some popular story back home. Maybe I’ll tell you guys some time.”

Ace and Deuce always wanting to hear about stories from Yuu’s home world but being too scared that it will make them sad

Fem!Yuu being really excited to meet Deuce’s mom because they’ve been surrounded by only guys at an all boys school for months

Bonus: Dylla absolutely adores fem!Yuu and is more than willing to help fashion some more feminine clothing for Yuu if they ever wanted

Bonus +1: fem!Yuu wanting to meet the cast’s moms and sisters whenever the boys mention them

Bonus +2: All the boys’ families just accepting Yuu as their child regardless of whether they’ve met or not simply because of how often the boys talk about them

Yuu getting really giddy and excited when they’re able to travel to a new place in twisted wonderland other than Sage’s Island

i.e. cast’s hometowns, etc.

Yuu asking Crewel for help whenever/if they want to dye their hair

Based on a voiceline, Crewel canonically bleaches half his hair white and maintains that to keep with his style (the dedication of that man is inspiring)

The moment Yuu realizes they’ve fallen too far down the rabbit hole and are now attached to everyone in twisted wonderland, meaning their leaving will hurt more and more with each passing day.

The feeling of being incredibly torn between their previous life they were forced to abandon, years of work they had put in to reach the goals they wanted to accomplish, and the new friends, experiences, and opportunities before them in this new world. So they push the feeling down further with each day. Force themself to ignore the inevitable.

They don’t want to think about the idea of who will take care of Grim when they’re gone? Or how Ace will get his assignments done if they’re not there to force him to do it. Or or who will calm deuce down enough before he gets into a fight and ruins his goal of being a perfect honor student?

Who will be there if someone else overblots?

This one I kinda stole from Private Thoughts of a Moray Eel by @mochinomnoms, but I love the idea of Yuu, Ace, and Deuce being so close and completely comfortable with each other. I mean, they’ve gone through literal life or death situations together from the start, so it makes sense that they would be closer than most.

But not just the closeness we see in game with them being a main friend group who always hangs out. But close physically, in the sense that there are few boundaries left between the three.

For a few examples, I like the idea that the three will commonly be seen cuddling together or leaning on one another when they’re lounging in the courtyard or around Heartslabyul/Ramshackle.

Ace often times has his arm around the shoulders of Yuu or Deuce. Sometimes leaning in to whisper something stupid or gossipy in their ear.

Yuu has taken to giving the Adeuce duo kisses on their foreheads and cheeks as thanks or as a goodbye when they head back to Ramshackle with Grim.

Deuce grew a habit of holding Yuu or Ace’s hand when he gets ticked off by some oaf he wants to punch. The two will respond by giving his hand a squeeze or rubbing a comforting thumb across the back of his hand. It’s a silent thing, no one outright acknowledges it, because it’s become such a common practice for the three.

Another habit Deuce has developed is that he’ll face-plant directly into the lap of whoever is sitting down after a long day. The first time he did it, it was Yuu’s lap and it spooked them so much they accidentally threw their phone at Ace’s face. Deuce felt horrible after that, but after some reassurance, he started doing it more often. Albet, making sure the landing was softer than the first time.

In response to Deuce planting his face on their thighs, Ace and Yuu both took to immediately playing with his hair and massaging his scalp with their free hand.

Yuu’s way of asking for comfort when they're stressed or scared (which they will always refuse to admit, they swear, they just need them as a human shield! It’s just for defense!) is by hugging one of the two around their torso and ducking their head into the crook of their neck to hide their face. Most times, the hug from the back so whoever they’re hugging can’t see what they’re feeling. But they of course still love hugging from the front because the two will always respond by immediately wrapping their arms around Yuu and rubbing their back.

Because of this slightly abnormal friendship, (I failed to describe the abnormal part here but I can always write more) there have of course been some rumors started about them being in a romantic relationship. Are they polygamous? Are Ace and Deuce fighting over Yuu in an epic and dramatic love triangle? Is Yuu playing both of the boys? Are there hidden feelings between the three they all refuse to talk about?

While most of the school and some of their friends wonder this, the trio completely ignores it. As if the rumors don’t exist at all. When asked about their relationship or if anything being said is true, all three of them look at each other, shrug, and say completely different things.

Jack: So, are you guys in a relationship? Epel: Yeah, you’re all awfully close for just friends. Sebek: Please, the details of their relationship have nothing to do with us! But if you three are romantically involved in a relationship with each other then I will support you entirely as long as it does not affect my lord. Ortho: Well, let’s hear them out first, are you three dating each other? Ace, Deuce, and Yuu: *tangled in a cuddle pile on Ramshackle’s couch with Grim asleep on the arm of the couch next to them* [simultaneously] Ace: Maybe. Deuce: No? why? Yuu: Only on Tuesdays.

The main part taken from Private Thoughts of a Moray Eel is the idea where Ace and Yuu visit Deuce’s home one summer and Deuce’s mom Dylla immediately believes the three are an adorable couple.

Regardless of whether they are, aren’t, or are secretly pining, Dylla would decide in that moment that she had two new children she would die for. (Whether through adoption or as an in-law, should secretly hopes she can have Yuu as her child)

AdeuceYuu is probably my favorite ship in all of Twst but this concept of them being physically affectionate and comfortable with each other transcends simply being a romantic headcanon and something I personally believe to be true as platonic and any other relationship dynamic you can imagine. Because let’s be honest, all three of them need comfort from others after going through so many overblots. And who better to comfort you than the ones who stood beside you through most of those experiences.

Yuu being seen by the cast as a very passive and soft-spoken individual who couldn’t hurt a fly even if they tried. Only, the projected image of the protag they’ve come to accept is shattered when they witness Yuu tearing a random student a new one after said student had pushed them over the edge after a very stressful day. (Separate HC post for that concept coming soon)

Yuu, who stood against beasts, overblots, and literal titans and gods, being too scared to ask for extra ketchup in Mostro Lounge.

Additionally, Yuu who lives with a direbeast, being afraid of squirrels (don’t ask me why, this just feels correct, so we’re going with it)

The first idea that got me to start writing twst headcanons: Yuu having a very different way of speaking in Twisted Wonderland than they do back home. Because many of the references and slang they typically use in everyday speech doesn’t make sense to anyone but them in TW, they talk less and have a very plain way of speaking compared to most people their age. Here’s how I imagine this specific scenario goes:

When hanging out with Adeuce and Grim one day, Ace brings up (jokingly) how boring the prefect sounds when speaking.

Yuu makes a comment about how they speak very differently from how they do back home.

This piques Ace and Deuce’s interest.

While Deuce is more reluctant to ask, Ace begins asking questions and hounding Yuu for examples and for them to say things in ways they normally would. Deuce and Grim eventually join in on the barrage of questions.

Finally, and a little hesitantly, Yuu decided to give them one day where they talk in the way they normally would back home.

In this case, that means a lot of references, stupid internet jokes, and generational slang.

While the majority of it goes over the heads of Yuu’s friends, prompting more questions than it does answer, it’s still a day in which they see a whole new side of Yuu. One that’s evidently more relaxed and natural for the beloved prefect.

It’s a confusing day for most, listening to Yuu speak as if they’ve lost their mind and started spewing nonsense, but it also became one of the highlights of the school year for the cast.

I have plenty more headcanons i can rip from the crevices of my mind, so if you would like to see more let me know! I love thinking of these silly little moments and dynamics and overall making the main character feel a little more real and personal for myself and hopefully others.

@thisisafish123 (you asked to be tagged for a part 2, not exactly sure if this counts for you but I hope you enjoy!)

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ayyy-pee · 4 hours

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hii lexi!!! hope you’re doing well :)) would you be interested in writing a suguru first date kinda thing? i thought it might be cute ^_^ (also i love your pfp!! it looks so good!)

AHHH THANK YOU NONNIE! <3 I'm so late, but I imagine Suguru would be exactly like this for a first date when he's really into reader lmaooo it's short but i'm trying to flex my brain with little drabbles. i appreciate you sending this request in! i hope you like it! <3

𝐹𝐼𝑅𝒮𝒯 𝒟𝒜𝒯𝐸

Discord 18+ - Twitter

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Female Reader

Warnings: Cutiepie sweetie face nervous Suguru Geto!, downbad Suguru, Gojo being an annoying shithead, fluff and cuteness <3

It's so hot here.

Is it hot in here?

Has to be. Or else Suguru wouldn't be sweating so much. He can’t even hold his drink, the damn glass keeps slipping from his hands.

Maybe it’s the lights making his palms so moist?

Are the lights too bright? Too hot?

Was this restaurant the right choice? If it’s making him this uncomfortable, surely you’ll be uncomfortable, too.

Maybe he should have chosen another place. Do you even like Italian? Fuck, he should have asked you before making a reservation. What if you’re allergic to…pasta or like…tomatoes? He didn’t even think about that. Maybe it's not too late to change plans.

The soft buzz in Suguru’s pocket pulls him from his scrambled thoughts, and he takes his phone out to see a text sitting at the top of his notifications.

Beauty: Pulling up now. See you soon :) <3

Fuck! It's too late to change plans!

Okay. Okay, this is fine. It will be fine! He’s got this. What’s there to be nervous about? Nothing, because Suguru doesn’t get nervous. He asked you out, anyway. Not the other way around! There’s no reason he should be reduced to this clammy, sticky mess he’s become.

And yet, it seems that’s all Suguru ever is when he’s in your presence. Although, it’s only been one other time.

It's been an entire week since Suguru first laid eyes on you coming down the aisle at his best friend's wedding. You would have thought he was the one getting married, the way his face grew red watching you smile, so stunning in that gown the bride had picked for you. The way his heart practically tried to punch its way through his ribcage when you’d graced him with a glance, aiming your beauty right at him. How you watched, teary eyed as your very best friend married his very best friend and it’s so insane of him, he knows. But Suguru thought he could see himself in this exact position one day…with you. And he didn’t even know your name.

It's so cliche, truly; a groomsman and a bridesmaid getting together at a wedding? It’s a romcom waiting to happen, but Suguru couldn't help himself.

You were the epitome of beauty. Your eyes, your lips, your smile, everything about you. They were all things Suguru could not get out of his head after you'd danced with him at the reception. With that cheesy love ballad playing way too loudly, you slipped perfectly into his embrace, like the missing piece of a puzzle, and he had to get to know you.

"Fuck your honeymoon," he'd told Satoru, rolling his eyes as his best friend panned his camera across the beautiful powdery sands of Turks and Caicos. “Can you ask your wife for her number?”

“Hmm…” Satoru flipped the phone back around and Suguru could see him pretending to think about it, tapping his chin just to irritate Suguru. “Beg me.”

“...Excuse me?”

“Beg…me…”

That stupid grin on that long limbed bastard’s face. If Suguru could, he’d reach through the phone and smack it right off of him. Why would he beg for your number? He’d get connected with you some other way. Suguru is not a beggar. Nothing in this world could make him open his mouth and plead for something.

“No.”

“Then I’m not asking. Good luck finding her! Gorgeous girl. Hope she doesn’t find someone else because there were quite a few people asking about her at the wedding…”

Suguru knows what he’s doing. And he fixes his friend with a deadpan stare as he says, “Nice try. Not begging.”

And Satoru chuckles. “Okay! See you in three weeks!” He sings on the other end.

“Wait!”

And so Suguru…begged for your number. Not his proudest moment, but as he sees you slip through the doors of the restaurant, grinning and waving excitedly when you spot him…well, it makes every bit of groveling worth it. He just saw you exactly one week ago. A full 7 days. 168 hours. 10,080 minutes. And you look just as breathtaking, if possible.

This feeling is familiar, the heat radiating from his cheeks and the intense pounding of his heart and this sensation to get on his knees before you and offer you the world.

“Hi,” you greet him, out of breath as you approach.

Suguru stands quickly, stealthily wiping his damp palms on his pants. And it’s a little awkward at first, but you hug him, slipping into his hold like you just…belong there. It’s driving him insane, the way you just seem to fit him so perfectly.

You take your seat on the other side of the booth, all smiles and god, if it doesn’t send Suguru spiraling. You’re just so cute. You almost seem as excited to be here with him as he is to be here with you.

“I meant to get your number at the wedding, but honestly, I was just too nervous to ask.” You confess, giggling, a bubbly and airy sound that makes Suguru want to hear it more, maybe set it as his ringtone then piss Satoru off so he’ll blow his phone up. Then Suguru can hear it over and over.

He chuckles, smoothing his hands over his pants again, trying his damndest to stop the sweating. “Yeah?”

You nod, picking up the menu and gracing him with a sweet, shy smile before hiding behind the sheet of paper. “Yeah, so I’m really happy you called.”

Suguru’s heart races and he can’t help the goofy grin that’s now formed on his lips as he picks up his menu. “Me too.”

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screampied · 3 days

Note

Wowaloo Vegas, feeling kinda angsty tonight. Any thoughts about Jjk characters x reader ANGST🙂‍↕️?

oh angst, oh. 🙂‍↕️

gojo — waking up from a bad dream that he died, but once you wake up, it wasn’t a dream and he’s actually been dead for years. you’re a widow, still wearing your ring and the two of you both vowed to never take it off. gojo was last seen wearing his ring before he died and you’re still wearing yours. even till the end, the two of you will always be together. even if the strongest isn’t with you, he’s with you in spirit

choso — choso wanting to confess his feelings to you but it’s too late. he’s just to shy and scared that you’ll reject him, so he doesn’t say anything. but the day he finally gets the courage, you’re on a date. his heart breaks, and he tosses his roses in the trash once he sees you with someone that should have been him. walking away and accepting defeat, he feels a few tears stream down his face. he had a whole speech he spent hours reciting, starting off by complimenting your outfit, telling a cheesy joke he found online, and then handing you your gifted roses. but he couldn’t, you found someone else. he was too late

nanami — spending your final moments with him while he’s slowing passing away right before your eyes. “baby, i can’t feel anything,” he’d say to you in a hoarse voice, still attempting to force out one last smile for you. you think that’s a good thing, that he can’t feel any pain. but it’s not, he repeats himself, “no, i really can’t feel anything.” he’s paralyzed, he can’t move. nanami can’t move and you can’t do anything about it. he dies right in front of your eyes, straining out his final breaths before he wearily brings your hand up to his mouth. he kisses it, speaking in a tired voice. his final words were a sweet, “i love you.”

sukuna — he swore he wouldn’t fall in love with a human. on his life, but you were just infuriating. you stole his heart and he hated you for it. but he’s in love with you even more. sukuna gets too attached though, he promises nothing will ever happen to you, but one day, you die. you end up sacrificing yourself for him, taking a brutal hit for him which ends up costing your life. stupid, as you’re laying in his arms, his eyes swell up with tears. sukuna never cries, but now you gave him an excuse to. the last words you heard before you go into the light was, “foolish woman, i love you. don’t go. i can’t lose you too, please.”

geto — geto who’s too scared of commitment. he loves you with all of his heart but there’s just something living within him that’s whispering to him that he doesn’t deserve you. his past makes him feel guilty. the voice gets louder overtime until it’s a constant ringing in his ears. the two of you end up getting hitched as the years pass, life is beautiful—until your official wedding day comes. you’re so pretty, walking down the aisle and he’s staring at you with the most loving gaze. but he can’t, once it’s asked if he’ll be your lawfully wedded husband, he says “i can’t, i’m sorry.” and he leaves you standing there. shocked, confused, and most importantly heartbroken.

toji — once he meets you, life is worth living again. it’s been hard for him losing his first love, his wife. he thought he’d never love again. toji’s entire personality changed after that part of his life. but it all changed once he met you. you were his saving grace, he didn’t like being attatched and clingy but he just couldn’t help it. toji promised he’d change and be a better man for you. but it’s a particular day where he gets a phone call from a detective. “what?” was all he would utter out in a shaky voice, hearing the voice explain that his fiancé was pronounced dead. it’s as if time stood still. his first thought, not again. you were his second chance, and now you were gone. life wasn’t worth it anymore, and toji didn’t know what to do without you. back to square one

#꒰ 👤 ꒱ؘ 𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐍𝑶𝐖𝐍 𝐂𝑨𝐋𝐋𝐄𝑹.#LMAO man i love angst #im gonna write these 🫦#maybe 🫦#isn’t this a lovely fandom

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the-tropes-are-hungry · 2 days

Text

The Worm's Mother (2/3)

If I get to write this fic Leshy is both (1) the Main Character and (2) Literally A Worm Who Became God. Like he will be driving the plot, and the plot will be the Cat Takes the L and the Lamb suffers Religious Trauma. CW: rotting corpses and descriptions of Leshy eating them. I'm sorry. ---

His mother loved him. She would have told him if she didn’t.

He’d hatched into a cocoon of loam and root. His first bites, teeth still tender, had been of the sweet, sour, bitter nest around him. The darkness muted sound, but the warm pressure held his body safe sinew was wrapped in muscle, and soft carapace became chiton. He was kept patient by roots snaking through the soil for his teeth, sharper and stronger, to suckle on. In the dark, her heartbeat lulled him to sleep. When his claws were strong enough to dig, she gave against his touch.

Here, where loam touched clay.

Here, where the roots carried water.

Here, where Mother brought him blood.

The smell, the smell. The enlivened touch across his pallet, like cool water but sweeter, headier, thicker. He thought it was the roots, stupid worm, some incredible plant with red roots and black juice that ran so sweet he gobbled even the soil around the weeds.

He tunnelled up. He tunnelled out. He needed more.

He needed it until he bit into a kind of plant that would not shred (fabric, Shamura would tell him later), so he used his claws to tear into the fruit. The flesh. The flesh.

Fruit within fruit. Sweet within bitter. Tangy under salt. Textures his mind had no words for, a crunch that made all his infant eyes open for the first time, deep in the body of the great warm bloody dead plant-fruit he’d already eaten half of.

Ears, suddenly open without Mother’s embrace, wracked with sounds not from her or from him. If he wanted a fruit like this, so would others.

And if he was covered in its juice, others would eat him too.

He ripped the bones from the corpse and retreated back to mother. He dug deeper, and squirmed tighter, and never found the nest again (not that he had left much of it behind). But he did find a hollow where cold water pooled and no light came, and Mother did not warn him of anything save the swaying of the trees whose roots formed this burl in the ground.

He ate his bones. Like the fruit he’d torn them from, they were treasures wrapped in treasures. Soft meat, crunchy gristle, sharp and salty and when ground with his front teeth made his whole head vibrate before the deep dark butter within slid down his throat.

He slept after that first meal. Deeply. Safely. Mother protected him.

He went back to that grove (the battlefield, Kallamar would explain) several times, and brought bones back to the burl to eat and then sleep. The fruit was less good, less sweet, more pungent, kinda gross. He needed to dig a different path each time too, always too big after sleeping to squeeze back up the same way. Mother warned him with trembles, and sighs, and once a face-full of rancid (festering) water to stop retracing his path, to learn, and grow, and dig anew.

His legs sprouted, bringing misery. Thoroughly unexpected and unwanted, and Mother would not make the burl large enough for his new bones. It was not fair that the corpses’ bones had become his bones, no one had told him this would happen. The claws on his toes were not strong like the ones on his hands. They were not good for eating, or burrowing, or—no, scratching they were good for. Extremely good for. The scratching—oh the itching? Why itching?

His fur sprouted, bringing itching, and odor, but oh the scratching yes yes yes the scratching (the scritches someone else would say). Yes, all the time. So good. So, so, so good.

There was nowhere else to try his legs but the grove. The sun had turned the corpses putrid, and the flies had turned to maggots writhing in the last of the meat. Maggots were okay, like any other grub, but boring. No gristle, no grinding, no challenge. More bitter than meaty, and small. A snack. A boring, same-y, stupid snack.

He stood by accident, but mostly instinct. The sun was setting. There were no more fires. Fresh rain lay dewy on the trees and grass, covering the rancid smell of the blood where it was crusted under bloated corpses, no longer appetizing. He simply went from clicking his claws over strange thin loud cold stone (Kallamar would call it tempered steel with an oxidized finish. Shamura would call it shoddy.) to being taller than the corpse and the corpses around it.

Foot-claws were good for not falling, but that would take time and this time he fell and he shrieked and he kicked and now the bad-meat smell was his smell and EW. FUCK. DISGUSTING. HOLY SHIT I’VE BEEN EATING THIS?

The first time he saw birds fly was when he lay on his back in an unmentionable pile of viscera. The sky was the colour of an iris petal streaked with orange and pink. Thin white clouds like dandelion juice broke up the prism, and the black bodies of soaring corvids streaked by with open throats, echoing his own outraged trumpet.

He lay there for hours. Or maybe five minutes. He dug his claws into his mother and felt her ever-cool ever-present ever-real presence holding up his back and tail and legs and feet and arms and head, opened his mouth to the yawning expanse of new-evening stars in their crown of war-blackened treetops, and for the first time since his birth he laughed.

Two thousand years later, in a pumpkin patch and at the edge of twilight, Leshy will hear the birds and the trees and smell the green and the wet and feel the cool and present and real form of his mother beneath him, and for the first time since his fall and resurrection he will laugh.

But on that day, in the distant past, in a world he did not know and did not care to know of, the worm rolled over in the viscera to stand and gurgled as something stared back at him in the muck.

He blinked his yellow eyes at it. It blinked its green eye back.

Useless thing for a worm to have. A crown with a blinking green eye. No good for digging, or scratching, or chewing or eating.

He tried to eat it anyway.

No good.

But it felt good. And like that first mouthful of flesh, and that first glug of sweet blood, if it was good then it must be good.

So, he picked it up, and he put it on, and he walked (badly) from bloated corpse to dew-crisp grass, set his claws to digging, and vanished to show Mother.

Mother loved him. She would have warned him if she’d known.

[Prev] / [Next]

#cotl #cult of the lamb #cotl green crown #cotl Leshy #would you love him if he was a worm?#Shout out to bleeding-seraphic you made a legit warrior out of this worm and I had to make a whole fucking backstory for him #bleeding-seraphic #gimmie a few weeks maybe we'll get to the real plot and Leshy can have his yellow cat #Until then it's sibling bonds heroism world saving and #Leshy straight up having the least mommy issues and the best time #like he's actually fucking chill #My mom? The literal fucking ground

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darker-than-darkstorm · 2 months

Text

... I miss the boops.

#sigh #I didn't think I'd miss them #I thought they were kinda stupid at first #Then an hour before they vanished I started getting really into it #And now they're gone #boop #super boop #evil boop

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sluckythewizard · 1 month

Text

BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.

#NO TAGS ON THIS ONE BC WELL. IM SHY. IM TAKING A BIG LEAP JUST BY ALLOWING U TO REBLOG THIS. IF IT BREAKS CONTAINMENT THATS UR FAULT.#i unfortunately suffer from the disease of 'i hate everything i write the day after i write it' BUT IM GETTING TREATED #I WILL NOT BE HAUNTED BY THIS WEAKNESS FOREVER. AND HEY LOOK THIS IS THE FIRST ACTUAL FIC BIT IVE EVER FINISHED..#ITS SOMETHING TO BE PROUD OF!! AND BY JOBE I WILL BE PROUD EVEN IF I HATE IT.#i dont always need to be the one who likes my art bc i know Someone out there will always enjoy it.#and to that someone i say: omg thankyou i LOOOOVEE YOUUUUUU!!!!!#JUST DELETED A WHOLE RAMBLE I JUST HAD ABT NERVOUS DISCLAIMERS FOR MY ART BUT I DONT NEED EM!!#GET CONFIDENT GET CONFIDENT GET CONFIDENT. ANYWAY. so emizel and soda huh #THEYRE SO CUTE TOGEEHTERRRR TEEHEHEHEHEEEE they are the homies that kiss eachother goodnight like CMON #but uhh so hey your bestest friend in da world just got turned into a freaky creature thing that eats ppl #ieah yknowthe guy that u care about alot that u had to watch get bled out by another freaky creature thing in an alleyway #yeaaah and you were super hurt and weak and stupid and u couldnt do jack nor shit to help him #what was i talking about again. RIGHT so hes even cooler now bc he cant die n hes super strong n his arms can be knives. sometimes.#but also he can eat people now. and sometimes he cant stop himself from eating people. and thats kinda scary. but in a cool way.#but also in a disturbing way. but also in an interesting way?but also in a freaky way.the feelings ARE MIXED!!!ATLEAST I THINK THEY WOULD B #okay again i havnt listened to the suckening ina bit. so its been a minute since i absorbed their personalities. i could be misreading or #misremembering or misconstruing or mischaracterizing or WHATEVER. i think the confusion carries its intended effect #LOSING MY TRAIN O THOUGHT. anyway i love soda n emizel i hope they get locked in a saw trap together or somethign. for enrichment.#TALOS GRANT ME THE STRENGHT TO POST MY CREATIONS ON LINE!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGHHH!!!!!!!

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