#and those really sharp silly edges are so interesting

[morgana-ren]

Sorry but I love the thought of trying to deny ascended Astarion something— maybe it's letting him feed on you, or maybe it's crawling into bed with him, just use your imagination— and he decides he won't take no for an answer anymore. He takes it upon himself to rectify your little mistake. You know, slowly advancing on you until you're back against a wall, with one pale hand caging you in place against his chest, the other coming up trace and prod at the swell of your lips with an eerie softness.

This gentleness doesn't last. Eventually, he forces the digits between your teeth, fingertips splaying across your tongue, gagging you with his fingers.

"Funny. I could have sworn you just told me no," He says, head cocked as he leans in. You can feel his lips against your neck, breath against the shell of your ear that sends a shiver rolling down your spine. An ivory fang plays at the curve of your throat, just enough to dimple the skin. "Surely, I must have misheard you. You'd never be foolish enough to do that, would you, little love?"

It really doesn't matter what you say. Whenever you try to respond, he presses his fingers down, scissoring them out over your tongue to silence you. All you can do is drool pathetically around them, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

"You're a clever girl. You'll do as I say, won't you? It's easier when you obey. You wouldn't want me to be forced to hurt you, would you?"

He still won't let you speak, pushing his fingers farther to dance at the precipice of your throat, reveling in the way it tightens when you panic (he'll remember that). He doesn't care what you have to say. He is only looking for one answer.

"Now, be a good girl and nod."

So, you nod, stricken with fear at his sudden shift. He removes his fingers from your mouth after a lingering moment of discomfort, wiping the viscous mess on your cheek. You breathe easy, thinking it's over-- only for him to pucker your sodden face in his hand, thumb digging callously into the soft of your jaw, grating gentle flesh against the sharp edges of your teeth. He bears down on you, those terrible red eyes a mirror into your own petrified reflection.

"There's a girl. Silly little thing. It's in your best interest to behave, don't you think? Don't you fret! I'm sure you know just how to make it up to me."

#Ascended Astarion #Astarion spoilers #this is how i occupy my high time #I'm having a hard time focusing so all I can do is muse snippets at the moment #I have so much work to do like actual STORY work and asks and all I can do is daydream #idk where this came from

[magicalbats]

I DID SEE NEUVILETTES SAD FACE… they are making it so easy for us

also I am CERTAIN Father could handle two brats at once, just as well as mr neuvillette could. both of those thoughts make me feel INSANE. I don’t know what I like more, two unruly brats being put in place or… (bear with me, I just woke up and how do words) furina, the brat of brats, being made to show some appreciation and care and service to her loyal and long suffering little handmaiden, who is very good at following orders but has a hard time relaxing and letting others take care of her. smthin abt a dom handling two different types of sub at the same time, playing off of each other, just… iujghgffghyfg

— dinner guest

Oh, dinner guest anon

I love that idea. Like actually

I’m envisioning something that looks and feels outwardly soft, but with a hard underline just below the surface. The way we’ve seen Arlecchino speak and behave so far has been like that; very well mannered, even cordial, with a razors edge to it that adds a certain weight to her actions. I see her domination being both subtle and heavy handed at the same time. Something like …

“Isn’t it interesting, Lady Furina, that you have the privilege of a life of luxury and indulgence while your people are forced to make do with whatever they can eke out for themselves? They cannot lay claim to the same lavish comforts you enjoy on a daily basis,” Arlecchino drags her pointed gaze to the nervous handmaid standing just behind the Hydro Archon. “Does that seem fair to you?”

It takes you a beat to realize she’d asked that question of you and not your lady. Eyes going round, you look to Furina for guidance just as she turns on the chaise lounge to peer back at you as well. Twin expressions of surprise and confusion, and maybe just a little bit of fear are exchanged before she forces out a thin, tittering laugh.

“Oh, don’t be silly! Of course I treat my loyal attendants to many of the same indulgences I myself enjoy. Why, just the other day we had a tea party together, didn’t we? I even made sure we had the most exquisite cake to share between ourselves to mark the occasion and - -“

“Is that all it takes?” Arlecchino cuts across her, sharp as a knife. “A little bit of cake to sweeten the deal of servitude? Is this truly the only way you know how to show appreciation to others, Lady Furina?”

The Archon hesitates at that.

You anxiously shift behind her, unsure of what to say or do in this situation. Oh, how you wished Monsieur Neuvillette had been able to attend this appointment with the Snezhnayan diplomat. It was resoundingly obvious that you were in over your head and woefully ill prepared to handle it by yourself.

“I — I’m not sure what you mean,” Furina finally manages to squeak out, visibly fidgeting now. “What else would you have me do if not share my luxuries with those who have earned it? I am not a cruel or unjust god, I’ll have you know!”

Arlecchino puts her head to one side as if she’d just heard something rather interesting but her expression doesn’t change or give anything away. “You’re right. Neither of those words describe you, do they? I think what I would call it is selfish.”

Furina jolts as if she’d been physically struck, and you quickly step forward to intervene.

“Lady Arlecchino, please cease this at once! My lady does not deserve to - -“

The Knave stops you short with a slicing look that makes your breath catch.

“Oh, but she does. Even as the ruler of this nation does that really give her the right to ignore the cries and needs of the people? You, for example,”

Sedately, Arlecchino uncrosses her legs and stands.

You shake at her casual approach, those wicked heels near silent on the plush carpet laid out under the tea table as she steps around it. She comes close enough for you to feel the body heat coming off her and it makes you loose a small gasp when the taller woman brushes around you. A clawed hand finds your arm, horrible and monstrous in the way it softly smooths up to your shoulder and then across your collar. You think to pull away. To run and find Monsieur Neuvillette so he can take care of this problem which you are so clearly unqualified to do, but your feet seem to be frozen to the spot.

Without a word, Arlecchino presses herself against your back, hard and unrelenting, at the same time her fingers close tight around your breast. You gasp, and the sound is echoed by the Hydro Archon watching on from the lounge in fascinated silence.

“You, such a lovely little pet,” She croons into your ear, all silk and jagged edges that would cut you if you weren’t careful. “Surely there is more you want from life than to serve and eat cake? Wouldn’t it be nice if Lady Furina showed you some of the same consideration you give her all the time? I certainly hope you don’t think that you’re undeserving of even the most basic respect …”

“… Lady Arlecchino, please.”

“Call me Father.” She gives your tit a slow, savory squeeze that stops just short of pain. “I’m more accustomed to being referred to like that anyway, but I can see that my guidance is needed even here in the courts of Fontaine as it is anywhere else.”

Finally stirring out of her stupor, Furina starts to stand. “Now hold on a minute here! I’d kindly ask you to refrain from touching my - - eeek!“

She falls back with a rather inelegant squawk of surprise when Arlecchino shoves her back down. You draw a sharp inhale, thinking you’ll scream for help, but before you can follow through on it she roughly spins you around and tosses you across the lounge next to your lady. Terror makes it difficult to breathe as you blindly reach over to grasp Furina’s trembling hand, and the two of you huddle there together on the lush cushions when Arlecchino comes to loom over you both.

“How cute. Loyal to your god even now, even after everything I’ve said. No matter, though.” Drawing a perfectly calm breath, she bends at the waist and reaches for you. Two sets of frightened whimpers rise up on the couch but, to your gaping surprise, all she does is brush your rumpled skirt higher. “I’m going to give you and Lady Furina here a little lesson in showing one’s appreciation, and I do hope you’ll pay attention. There is so much more she could be doing for you in exchange for that loyalty she speaks so highly of.”

Beside you, Furina offers up a threadbare laugh. “Is this really necessary, miss, uh, Knave? I - I mean, this seems a bit … inappropriate.”

You couldn’t have agreed more, especially when she gets your skirt hiked up enough to expose your panties to the room. Your face burns in shame and embarrassment alike, but Arlecchino’s lack of concern is obvious. Slipping those long, sharp nails into the waistband, she starts to tug your underwear down your thighs.

“W - wait —“

“Do not fret, little maid. No harm will come to you or your precious god, I give you my word on that. This is but an exercise in humility and penance.”

Ignoring the way you twist and try to squeeze your thighs together, she gets your panties pulled down around your ankles where she stops long enough to pull one foot through. She doesn’t bother with the other, however, and just leaves your underwear dangling there as she then reaches for Furina.

Her fingers clutch your hand tight enough to hurt but there’s nothing you can do to stop it when Arlecchino grabs her by the back of the hair and drags her off the couch. The Archon yelps and sputters as she’s forced to her feet only for the taller woman to shove her down on the floor in the next moment.

“Ow! Please wait, I don’t understand - -“

“And that’s the heart of the problem, isn’t it?” Arlecchino purrs, twisting the handful of hair she’s gripping to make Furina let out a strangled shriek. It’s not enough to alert anyone though. You know you should be screaming at the top of your lungs but you can’t seem to pull in enough air to accomplish that, and you just stare up at her in petrified disbelief. “I’m going to teach you a much more appropriate method of giving your thanks to those who serve you so diligently. You want to be a good Archon, don’t you?”

Furina sucks in a wet, faltering gasp. “Yes, of course I do, but …”

“Then allow me to show you how best you can serve your people.”

Viciously, Arlecchino shoves her face between your legs, and you nearly jolt right up off the couch. Furina wails and struggles, but The Knave is as demanding as she is unrelenting. She forces her warbling mouth right up against your bare cunt, making you lurch at the sensation. Your legs frantically kick out as you try to shove yourself as far into the backrest as you can go, trying to escape, but Arlecchino just grabs you by the hair with her unoccupied hand. The pain that tears through your scalp is immediate and debilitating, and all you can do is seethe while she holds the two of you there as if without any effort at all to show for it.

“Now, Lady Furina,” She intones over the chorus of breathless gasps and whining mewls. “I want you to put that mouth of yours to good use. Show her just how much you really appreciate all her hard work.”

The shuddering Archon keens a faltering sound, and the resulting puff of hot hair on your cunt has you shaking like a leaf. You sway, unsteady and reeling, but Arlecchino’s hold on you is as good as iron. It must be the same for Furina because she hesitantly mouths at you in some parody of a kiss, evidently not seeing that she had any other choice but to comply. It’s not good enough for the other woman though and she meanly grinds her face down into your pussy, practically suffocating her in the process.

“I know you can do better than that. Be a good girl for me and open your mouth. Use your tongue.”

You shoot Arlecchino a tearful look, but all of her attention is on the other woman kneeling between your thighs. It’s clear she was just using you as a prop to further humiliate and debase Furina, and she didn’t actually care about you or any pleasure you might derive from this. It was just a means to an end, and you hiss when you feel a hesitant tongue slip out to nudge at you.

Noising a muffled sound that echoes your own little squeak, Furina shyly licks over your soft creases and folds without any real intent behind it. You feel as equally humiliated by this as she does but you still shudder when she accidentally brushes your clit. Arlecchino only clicks her tongue though, using her hold on Furina’s hair to forcefully guide and drag her mouth back and forth over the apex of your slit.

“Like this. You want her to feel good, don’t you? I wouldn’t have expected you to not even know this much …”

You finally manage to pull in a halting, paper thin breath. “Lady Arle — Father, please stop this at once. There is no justification for treating Lady Furina this way … if the honorable Iudex learns of this - -“

“Oh?” Her unsettling gaze at last comes up to fix on you again. “Are you going to tell him, little maid? You don’t look like you’d have the courage, but perhaps I underestimated you.”

A blubbering whimper rips out of your throat when she leans over you, getting close to your face while Furina heaves against your cunt. Trying to lean away from her just gets your hair pulled again, and Arlecchino tugs you right back around to look at her.

“I asked you a question. Is it not customary to give an answer when someone is speaking to you? I’ll ask again: are you going to inform the Chief Justice of what took place here today?”

You screw your eyes shut. The threat in her voice was not near subtle enough for you to miss it, and you were under no illusion of guaranteed safety just because of your close proximity to the Archon of Fontaine. “N - … no, Father. I won’t tell him.”

“That’s what I thought.” Retreating back into her own space, Arlecchino sends a slow look of consideration over Furina who’s nose is so deeply buried in your pudgy mound that all you can see of her are her pretty mismatched eyes. They’re big and fearful, no doubt mirroring yours, and she issues a soft, muffled yelp at suddenly having The Knave’s attention on her again. “And you, Lady Furina … will you go running to your precious Iudex after I’m finished with you here?”

She hesitates, furiously trying to blink away the glisten of moisture filming her eyes as she pulls in a thickly labored breath. A muffled noise that might have been a ‘no’ rises between your legs, making you twitch only to full on shudder just a heartbeat later when she shakes her head as well.

Evidently pleased, Arlecchino eases up her hold on you before letting her hand slip away entirely. “Good. That’s what I like to hear. Then what I want the two of you to do is relax. Just enjoy yourselves for a little while. I’d say both of you have earned your respective roles here.”

She releases Furina too, much to your reeling surprise, but both of you are much too frightened to move. The usually boisterous and flamboyant Archon obediently stays kneeling on the floor while the unnervingly collected woman steps around the lounge to loom over you from behind. Your skin crawls at her nearly palpable presence at your back. So heavy and oppressive it’s all you can do just to keep breathing when she casually reaches over your shoulders to smooth her hands down the front of your uniform.

“I’ll be here to instruct you the whole time and ensure each of you does as she is supposed to. As long as you remember your place I won’t have any reason to correct you.” She sighs, almost distant and dreamy, and you numbly peer down at yourself to watch those horrible hands drag over your breasts.

Abruptly, Arlecchino pinches the front of your shirt and pops it open with a sharp tug. You jerk slightly at the force, mewling softly when buttons go flying to clatter across the marble floor some yards away. She sets her sights on your brassier next and the way she tears into it is almost violent, cotton digging into you mercilessly as she shreds it to pieces. A fresh surge of withering shame has your cheeks burning hot when your bare tits hit the air and humiliatingly stiffened nipples cut up off your body in attention seeking points. You aren’t the least bit surprised when Arlecchino latches onto them with thumb and forefinger, rather indelicately pinching the tightly coiled buds, but it still startles a wounded sound out of you all the same.

“Now,” She intones, ignoring your hissed pleas in favor of looking down at Furina’s teary eyed face. “You’d better get to work, God of Justice. This little one seems so sensitive and tender … you don’t want to disappoint her, do you?”

With a quiet sniffle, she hesitantly opens her mouth a bit more and drags her wet tongue through your cunt purposefully now. She seemed about as ready to have this done and over with as you were, and you fitfully arch when she finds your clit. Settling in now that she’s located the spot that makes you twitch, Furina nuzzles her face into you while she submissively laps at the sensitive nerve cluster. Between that and Arlecchino’s demanding ministrations on your aching teats, it doesn’t take long to have you gasping in reluctant pleasure and actively hating your body for turning on you so quickly. So readily.

You almost couldn’t believe how unbearably wet you were getting from this …

The Knave is nothing but pleased though, and she hums a satisfied sound as she gives your nipples a pointed tug to leave you keening. “Isn’t this a lovely sight to see. You look rather good on your knees, Lady Furina … I do hope you’re enjoying the taste of your little handmaid. The next time you feel so inclined to invite me to one of your gracious tea parties I simply must remember to bring some of my favorite toys for us to play with. In fact, I believe I already have one in mind for the two of you.”

⭐️

#arlecchino x reader #furina x reader #self insert bullshit #something short and silly

[meatyarms]

LISTEN LISTEN okokokok this isn't a request I just- HRBXJDHCJD I need to get this out omg

So we know that in the Arcane universe there are nonhuman species. Imagine Sev's girl being a cat hybrid. IMAGINE BEING SEV'S CUTE LITTLE KITTY GF

Imagine her wanting to see if you're really like a cat, testing with laser pointers, string, catnip, etc etc and can either go one of two ways. Either you're confused asf cause "Sevika I'm not a house cat" (she'd believe that's a lie). Or, it can go her way, and you can chase the toys and treat catnip like crack.

The way Sevika's hands wouldn't leave your body. One, because she loves you to death and two, cause she loves to feel your soft fur. Lightly plays with your ears and smiles when they twitch. Gives teasing little tugs at your tail when she's feeling rather playful. And let's not forget how she'd be more than happy to help you every 2-3 weeks, wink wink.

OK SORRY I JUST NEEDED TO GET THAT OUT I'm literally obsessed with Sevika, she's my favorite scary lady. Anyway thanks for reading, hope you have a wonderful day/night, and may we pledge to Sevika with our hands over our hearts and our pussies

And out it goes~ think your excitement electrocuted me and rightfully so. These are interesting and have the feels of a chitchat which I'll willingly prolong and dump some thoughts.

A hybrid girl stretching about leisurely on Sevika's lap is an image too vivid to call new (?) A pairing of can't-shake familiarity that just looks right. Pointy ears, nails and, at your hindmost, a flexible, fluffy tail. Gently swishing when relaxed, taps restlessly disgruntled and LOUD-ly.

Cat hybrids. A spirited critter that holds themselves to standards high though at times unpredictable—gracious, but with many feats of hunting and leading their prey astray that, if to be domesticated and cared for, waters down to a unique provocative nature. 

I imagine her fascinated, eyeballing, as though a phenomenon otherworldly, your pupils narrow in suspense, or when your tail bends 's' -> 'z' to and fro as she playfully runs her index from your forehead to your nose. Boop!

Shape, cast. Qualities, possessed. So one can't help but wonder and, with Sevika's unending itch to get practical, run some tests. She approaches carrying to her chest shoelaces and a glowy fluorescent laser pointer, 'plucked from work'. You'd cross arms, bashfully ridicule her theory in its silliness—"Sevika I'm not a house cat!"—but then lark, jump, slide, chase, etc., at whatever she throws or waves; although curiosity bests Sev in a way, it also is a deep-rooted instinct found in cats.

As for catnip with girlfriend Sevika, she would occupy a small space in the same room, only for you to then occupy her—violent rolling in her lap, where she holds(steals*) the container up high serving as dangling carrots for your sloppy kisses, licking, biting around the neck, fingers, and even her hair(did you chew on it thinking it's catnip while delirious? Sevika says yes, tauntingly). Regardless of the botched trim and smeared slobber, she'll be the sole recipient of it all. Besides, someone has to tuck you in bed when you tap out from eating the herb to your heart's content. Regret of the day before is certain to permeate in your wake. Cue Sevika throwing proud smugs at you randomly throughout the next day, fingers skim over the marks as to highlight them when you so much as look her way, just to cause further fluster. You might even call this animal cruelty hehehehe. Sorry.

Absolutely endorsing par. 4, like she'd settle for just staring, baby will stroke an embrace over every strand to tuft on those ears and tail of yours. Pretty dusks and coral painted windows were a scene especially enjoyed indoors where, on a carpet's corner, lay your bodies slumped atop one another. One filing their claws, other interchanging her own to a different sharp-edged and back. Somewhere in an aimless banter, Sev's flesh hand lays hold on your tail, as it normally flails freely in the air. Twirls it around her arm over and over, plays fake mustache by horizontally spreading it under her nose, recoils to an embryo after biting it—she loves it when your sclera sheens, but dreads what it means, wisely so. Just ask the local wicked pets dealers, whose runaways found mucking up the yard never come back.

Maybe she uses the tail's outset to maneuver and reposition your back however she wants and........maybe you sweep your tail over her back. Like ever so many splinters caught on her skin, bare and humid, she begins to lurch. Now you gleefully reveal your canines, exploding in laughter after a short restraint, having mistakenly just given her every incentive she needed to scratch another itch she has been eager to since its earliest daydream—rhymes with pond edge but using only. Your. Tail.

I have to thank you for bringing the hybrids(and other manners of creatures) to my attention, almost forgot what immeasurable uniqueness they bring to the show if not for this. Wonderful day/night to you too ^^

#yes I again come to you with a new hc format #ask #❥ anon #sevika #hybrid!reader #arcane sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x you #sevika x reader #sevika smut #sevika fanfic #wlw #meatywrites

[atxxzist]

broken | c.s (06)

prev // next // series m.list

pairing: choi san x reader

word count: 8.6k

warning: suggestive, idk what else but do lmk if i missed sum!

"so, want to play a few frames?" jongho asks.

though you considered the idea, you still weren't one-hundred percent sure about this 'double date', having told yuna you still needed some time, but she managed to drag you to the local bowling alley, squeezing you into the tightest dress she owns.

it feels like you're being suffocated because not is it only incredibly tight, but also a size too small.

"we could, but, i've never played before."

"oh, thank goodness," he says in relief, "me neither. but you know, protocols and whatnot."

a nervous smile emerges from him and you giggle in response, attention quickly batting to yuna and minhyuk by one of the lanes all flirty smiles and heart eyes, trying to act like they're interested in the game but you know it's the last thing on their mind.

when you first saw minhyuk, his sharp eyes and prominent features were the first thing you noticed.

he's handsome, in an overly intimidating way that probably has fathers pointing fingers and telling their daughters this is the kind of guy they need to stray far from.

which is why you expected his friend to be equally as alarming, only for the softest looking boy you've ever seen to pop out from behind him in parted black hair and puppy-like visual.

he's also an entire grade younger than you.

"you have a boyfriend, or?" his sudden question catching you offguard, unable to help the laughter that slips off.

"i don't," you reply casually. it might be because he's younger that allows for you to relax a little and not feel so tense around someone new and unfamiliar.

"ah, okay. just trying to minimize the risks of possibly getting a black eye, if i, by any chance, happen to hit on you."

another laughter pours at the silly comment.

"if i had a boyfriend, i wouldn't be here."

"oh, true. in that case, i hope you're ready to hear all the bad pick-up lines i've been waiting to use."

you roll your eyes, trying the very best to reframe from breaking out into an amused smile at the boy's attempt. the stark contrast to the one you're used to, because it's so innocent and it doesn't make you feel a little sick afterward.

his silly antics continues to entertain you, a giggle finally leaving along with a big smile plastered on your lips, you wouldn't even think of the possibility of someone watching a little too closely.

but san having arrived long enough to catch the exchange and occupying a booth far in the back, leans into the ear of the girl he came with, spewing a combination of words that brings out a smirk in her before really excusing himself.

"ok, you tell me which one sounds lamer--" jongho is rambling on when a figure comes into his peripheral vision, pausing midway to glare out of curiosity, one eyebrow raising at the person standing before him.

"san? you asshole, is that you?"

your breathing cuts short, head turning around so fast at the name that makes your heartbeat multiply. because it couldn't possibly be your san, right?

but lo and behold, there he is in all flesh and bones--it's those lips you kissed a couple days ago, and he's perfect just as you remember, going on to take a seat beside jongho while nudging him playfully to make space.

"i knew it was this fucker as soon as i stepped foot into the place," san says, a smile too warm on his lips.

jongho snickers and scoots over a little.

"what gave it away? my incredibly handsome look?"

san returns a snicker but with more edge. "the violence i suddenly felt at seeing your annoying face."

"real funny, choi number one. considering you came all the way over here, i'd say you even missed me a little."

"wrong. i came here for y/n."

the way your smile drops from their small banter when san immediately looks your direction is not even funny.

you want to comment on what a small world it is, that your blind date happens to know san, but the only thing that comes out is you in a stuttering mess and muttering out such a rhetorical question.

"y-you guys know each other?" stupid. of course they do.

san looks like he's going to say something but the younger boy beats him to it.

"he attended the same high school."

"right," san adds, "and jongho here, had a thing for playing hero and making my life all more difficult."

jongho chuckles it off and leans back, crossing his arms.

"i was on the school committee. i mean, i still am," he states almost too proudly, "and i was the one who busted this asshole for vaping on school ground."

san quirks his lips to the side with a shrug.

"student life was stressful," is all he says.

"yeah yeah. and somehow i became choi number two just because he's older."

"also because you're a little bitch that got me put on community service my last year of high school. an enemy situation throughout."

jongho stands back up to straighten his posture.

"i object. more like a little enemies turned friends, no? i think we got along fine during the last few weeks of school."

"that's only because i was tolerating your ass and school was ending."

a scoff accompanies jongho as he turns to you.

"somewhere in that cold heart of his, i know he has a soft spot for me." he smiles and you can't help but giggle, missing the way san quickly scans the amount of skin you're showing, along with the kind of dress he thinks you should wear more often.

"so, from what i'm hearing, we're all acquaintances here?" jongho continues.

san has to pry his eyes away while yours shoot to him when he hums out a low note in response.

"well, maybe you and y/n are. but i'm sure i mean more to her than that."

he delivers you a look, something so playful but with a hidden mystery to them that is all more attractive because of a smirk at the corner of his lips.

you don't know what all of it means but he just might be trying to get the upper hand against the younger boy who's even more clueless than you are.

"definitely not her boyfriend, at least. she told me she doesn't have one."

a light pink blush crawls onto your cheeks, growing shy from something that is as a matter of factly, true; having only made it known not even that long ago to said boy.

san chuckles at the sight, the smirk that was there before turning into an amused smile that's just a little addicted to the flush on your face.

"oh, did she now?" he mumbles; an edge to his voice the same time his lips quirk to the side so handsomely.

but jongho doesn't miss a single thing. not the look in san's eyes--a familiar one he's seen far too many times, and definitely not the lovesick symptom on your cheeks.

"you sly mother fucker," he hisses, shaking his head.

"you see, y/n. this is the kind of guy you stay away from."

san laughs, dimissing the boy's remark and playing it off as something lighthearted though it was said with just the smallest kind of cautious undertone like a warning.

"while guys like minhyuk, they might look like they got some shady shit going on, but let me tell you, that guy donates to the animal shelters a few times a year."

you swipe another glance at your roommate and her date from the comment, a smile so wide on minhyuk's face when yuna scores a strike.

"pfft," san blows with a faint eye roll, you turning back to stare at the two in front. "and what kind of guy would you be?" sarcasm in his delivery.

jongho sneers, a confident smile on his expression.

"exactly the kind y/n over here would love to get to know."

san laughs loud and amused, the sound so harmonious to your ear, you wouldn't mind hearing it every single day if given the chance.

your stomach still flutters a little at jongho's words, the silliness that was present before seemingly fading out replaced by a more stern tone that overtakes him.

"i'm sure y/n doesn't date little kids," san snarks, a smirk on him from beating down the younger boy.

"only a couple more months and i'll be of legal age, i'm sure she doesn't mind the wait."

the snicker that escapes you can't be helped, flattered by his attempts but still unable to take him seriously just because he's younger and might just be doing it to piss san off.

"and when is that, if you don't mind me asking," you bring up, genuinely wanting to know and not just because you'll wait for him.

"october the 12th!"

"ah," you softly mumble. "i'll be sure to write it down."

jongho looks to be in awe, haven't really thought that you would take it so literally.

"really?"

you nod, a thin smile drawing on your lips.

"in that case, i should ask for yours, too. when is your birthday, y/n?"

san watches the exchange the entire time with intrigued ears and eyes, at first annoyed by the younger boy who always know how to ruffle a few feathers, but what takes his breath away is how relaxed you are when conversing with jongho.

a side of you he's only seen when you're with your friends; something more lively and carefree, a complete contrast to how tense you always are around him.

but when jongho asks that question, it's the sinking realization that he doesn't know it, too. not just your birthday, but also anything else about you besides your body.

he doesn't remember a single time he's asked you any questions if it wasn't for his own personal benefits.

so why, why the fuck is he suddenly having this crisis and mulling over not knowing enough about you just because you're nosy and want to know more about him. especially when it's something so small and stupid like birthdays.

even when you tell jongho with such a shy smile on your face, uttering the month and day, he knows it will fly over his head later. he's never been good at remembering these kind of things anyways.

"i am going to be sure to remember it!" jongho states with determination, san being unfazed and knowing for sure the boy will because if there's one thing to know about him, it's that he has an annoyingly good memory.

"but say, y/n, you're having a birthday party, would you rather it be at the park or at your grandparents' house?"

"now, why the fuck would you do it at your grandparents' house?" san finally speaks up, his comment earning a low chuckle from you.

jongho groans in agreement. "that's what i told my mom!"

"i guess i'm with the both of you," you say softly, "though i probably don't have the best judgment. i-i don't really celebrate birthdays."

jongho's eyes stills as they keep open, the atmosphere dropping silent until he subtly starts talking again, "oh? how come?"

you never even knew birthdays were deemed such a special occasion; it being celebrated with friends and families all around, happy for that one day that you grow a year older.

the only birthdays you knew of wasn't anything special at all.

it wasn't until mingi invited you to a party of his that freshman year of high school that you learned birthdays aren't supposed to be spent in the small space of your tiny room alone, or trying to guess which parent you'll end up being shipped to next year.

"just something my family never did much, i guess," you simplify, and jongho nods along with an understanding hum.

"they're really not all that," san chips in, both yours and jongho's heads snapping his direction. "waste of money and time."

jongho takes offense, his expression twisting in response.

"okay there, edgelord. someone obviously never got invited to birthday parties as a kid."

"like hell i'd go," san snarks.

jongho rolls his eyes and moves his focus back to you.

"anyways. i will be taking the college entrance exam later this year, and if i don't get into yonsei, you just might see me around after i become of age," he announces somewhat jokingly but with the smallest chance that he means it.

san's husky and unbelievable laughter bursts from beside him, wanting to roll his eyes all the way to the back of his head, knowing the younger boy is playing it up.

"isn't it past your curfew," he remarks, totally out of topic but just eager to take a jab at the innapropriateness of it all considering jongho's age.

jongho furrows his eyebrows and actually checks his phone, an annoyed look on him once he registers the blow.

"you liar. it's only nine."

san scoffs, a little satisfied smirk at the corner of his lips.

"my curfew is at ten, i will tell you!"

the boys continues to make small, harmless insults to one up one another while you watch on the side, officially becoming a third wheel but the sight is too endearing for a subtle smile to not crack.

eventually, you have to use the restroom; sparing one last glance at yuna before excusing yourself to ask one of the workers.

this one is a little bigger; a few stalls at least and has two sinks. but while washing your hands, all you're able to think about is san back there and how it was the most you've gotten to know about him without having to ask.

maybe it's the magic of jongho and his more childish, laidback persona that allowed for not just you, but san as well, to show a more playful side of him. nothing like the man you've become accustomed to who's a little more calculating in his nature.

having watched as he fooled with the younger boy, wrestling and tickling him with a certain competitiveness that brings out a cute giggle that makes him look so approachable, exactly the kind of guy you think your aunt and uncle would approve of.

from a mere glance, no one would be able to tell this is the guy currently breaking your heart; the one having planted so many doubts in your head, he doesn't even bother to call or text anymore after having made clear what this is between you and him.

because unless you seek him out first, you won't hear from him. and it's been three days since the last time you were at his place, breathing underneath him and feeling so much pleasure, only to regret it later, swearing on your life this is the worst feeling ever and you're not sure if you can do it again.

you just didn't think, especially during a time where you're supposed to be forgetting about him--your face full of makeup products you usually wouldn't wear and a dress too tight hugging your body, that he'd show up so handsome and charming; all kinds of reminder why you returned the two times before and why it won't be the last.

about ready to go back, you're only a few inches out the door when a pair of hand latches onto your shoulders, pushing you back in against the counter, your eyes looking up into the one person capable of cornering you like this.

"hey," san utters, a coy smile on his lips as his hands releases from your shoulders and settles on the counter, trapping you inbetween.

you tense up a little, shifting in your spot and managing to reply through your trembling voice.

"h-hey."

he quirks an eyebrow before a smaller laughter bubbles out, one hand going to move the strands covering your eyes the way he always does.

"what's the matter? i haven't seen you in three days." his chest relaxes a little and his shoulders drop, inching even closer to you.

it's like once he really got that out of the way, everything starts leaking to the surface as well. everything about who this man really is and how he's nothing alike to the sweet, considerate boy you bumped into back at the party who helped you.

it's an awful discovery.

but what's worse is whenever you look at him, beyond his exterior and closed-off nature, you think there's a person underneath that you would love to know.

someone who has a story of his own; a story you would love to listen to if given the chance.

but that's always been your downfall. because when you love, you love hard. and maybe you didn't completely love junseo, but when someone is yours and you're theirs, you give them your entire heart.

and someone like san, someone so unattainable with his coy eyes and dimply smiles that always turn you a few shade redder, you think it would be nice if he was yours and you were his... because you would undoubtly love him wholeheartedly.

"i was busy," you tell him, swallowing down the pit that is both nervous but excited at whatever's about to come.

"that's fine," he dismisses it along with a low buzz under his breath, eyes quick to drool over the amount of exposed skin he's been dying to touch all night.

he's never seen you in this kind of outfit before. you were usually covered in three layers of clothing that was always annoying to take off.

"how did you know it was me?" you ask, playing dumb to the sight of his bottom lip in between his teeth.

he has to rip his attention away to meet your stoic eyes at the question, murmuring, "huh?"

"you told jongho you came over because of me, or was that--" a lie, too?

"--no, no, beautiful." he shakes his head, both hands caressing over your cheeks. "of course i was telling the truth. i knew from the hair and from the mole on your right shoulder."

san might not know a lot of things about you. not even the basics of your favorite movie or your dream, and he's not even sure if he remembers your birthday although you just told them not even that long ago, but he knows your body and all the ins and outs of it.

how your lips taste like, how pretty your boobs are, and how exactly to get you to cum. he knows all the faces you make during sex, and what to say and how to say it just so he can see that color on your cheeks that he likes a little too much.

and he definitely could spot that soft, silky texture of hair that had a big likelihood of it being yours.

he was only maybe seventy-percent confident at first, but the closer he got to the table, catching that mole on your shoulder he's gotten used to seeing, he knew it was you for sure.

"oh..." you say defeatedly, unable to wrap your head around the fact that san can actually recall something about you.

"what's wrong? you're not actually thinking about waiting for jongho and disappointed that i showed?"

your lips forms a pout, shaking your head.

"no. it's not that."

he chuckles, always having enjoyed backing you into a corner as if that's ever been hard to do.

"good. because he already left. his mommy called."

"oh..."

"yeah," he repeats, a tone so satisfied about the fact he's the only person for you at the moment. no chances of anyone else stealing your attention away; not even a pestering high schooler who lives to annoy him but also has the possibility of developing the smallest crush on you.

one of his hands suddenly snakes to your hip, settling on it with a light squeeze that makes you jolt up; the closer he leans in, the more your back presses against the edge of the counter.

"you look so fucking hot like this," he hisses, eyes once again unashamedly checking you out.

"it's yuna's dress."

"well, you should wear yuna's dresses more often."

his hand at your hip fumbles with the material, bottom lip caught in between his teeth again when it comes over just how perfect it fits over your figure.

silence eats up the air until he looks up and catches your gaze in his, staring at him like you're just waiting to be wrecked the same way he's always done it. a smirk crawls onto him and with one lift of your chin, you're both kissing and making out like it'll be the last time.

your arms are thrown around his neck immediately, and he's come to love the fact that you're starting to strip away that shy, hesitated act the more these sessions happen.

his hands that were on your hips are now all over your body as he nearly backs your head into the mirror, barely able to plant a kiss on your jawline when the sound of distant footsteps outside pries him away, staring into your horrified eyes at the thought of being caught in this position.

he shushes you, index finger to his lips and drags you away to the nearest stall, his back against the door and you breathing hard on his chest.

a pair of female voices echoes through the room, a conversation you don't really catch because your waist is wrapped around by one of san's arms while his other one travels down the bare of your skin, landing on your ass and squeezing it with a sadistic smirk on his lips.

you would've yelped if not for the current situation, in turn settling for a soft push to his chest that brings out that smile you so much despise because you hate how adorable it is and how dangerous it is on a man like san.

all you hear is the sink running and a few pops like something opening, maybe to reapply their makeups but is it drowned out by san's lips on yours and you at first unsure about making out in a restroom stall, but soon enough, you're gripping at his shirt and forgetting about all consequences.

you don't even realize the two are gone until san pulls away and the quietness of it all confirms it's only you and him again.

"let's take it back to the dorm?"

and you would've impulsively said yes, if not for your conscious serving as a reminder of the existence of your roommate who you came with.

"i want to, but, i came with yuna..."

"i'm sure she'll understand."

you used jongho as an excuse; your partner having gone home and all leaving there nothing to do. yuna didn't seem to mind, head occupied and infatuated with her date.

as soon as you're both off the elevator, his lips is on yours and your hands are running through his black hair, grateful for the late hours that has less students running around the building.

because it would truly be shameful if someone is to catch you two in this state, so high drunk off of lust, the key in your hold struggling to fit from your shaken hand.

but once you get it to open, you're both in immediately and the door behind is slammed shut, your back already touching the sheet of your bed and he's hovering on top once again diving down to kiss you.

his hand is fast to make an appearance under the skirt of your dress, kneading the soft skin of your thighs and traveling to the top of your underwear. you made sure to wear one alike to safety shorts.

while he works your undergarment, you pull at his shirt that rides up his toned abs, but you only make it about halfway before a sound in the pocket of his pants go off.

he ignores it the first time, but then comes the second.

a groan loosely escapes the tip of his tongue, having to break the kiss to stand on his knees, one hand rummaging his pockets.

you sit up with elbows planting the mattress and watch as his once annoyed expression dissipates at whatever is on the screen, his eyes even swelling a bit.

clearing his throat and shoving it back where he got it from, you can sense the change of demeanor, his body language giving away that he now wants to be out of here.

climbing off your bed as you stare with a disappointed sadness in your eyes, he finally speaks the dreaded words.

"hey, beautiful, i uhm... i gotta go." he awkwardly fidgets in his spot when telling you that, looking so out of place.

"oh..." you voice lowly, sitting up and scooting until your legs are hanging off the side of the bed, not bothering to hide the disappointment.

he attempts to put on a smile; try to make all of this hurt a little less, walking forward and placing a kiss on your forehead.

"i'll call you."

and when he leaves, you don't feel any better or any worse. the feeling is always the same; a deep hollow pain in your chest that makes you feel like an empty shell of a person.

why do you keep subjecting yourself to this kind of treatment? a part of you aware to the great possibility that the only reason he asked to come to your place was for this exact reason.

saying he has to go or that something came up is easier to lie about than straight kicking you out. and someone like san always know how to play his cards so he can lessen the blow.

so perhaps it's his adorable smile; the way your heart always flutter at the sight of him, and whenever he talks, you want to listen to him forever.

that stupid ounce of hope you so foolishly hang onto, wishing one day he'll come around because you're even more stupid to have faith in him.

facts about choi san.

1. birthday: july 10th 2. favorite color: purple 3. major cat lover 4. deathly afraid of bugs 5. was on community service senior year of high school

when san called earlier, asking if you can come to his place some time in the late morning, you know it's a bad idea.

you have already set a time and place to meet with yeosang at noon because the second exam is approaching fast, and shortly after, you have to leave for work, your schedule having been moved up the one weekday you don't have any class because your supervisor wants you to experience an actual classroom setting instead of the after school kids you've been watching.

the job proved to be a lot more than just being a teacher's aide, granted you told them you couldn't really work mornings because of being a college student and all.

but you haven't seen him since that night, and his promise of calling having came true filling you with that temporary feeling of joy and excitement, convincing yourself it doesn't hurt to see him for a bit as you rush over to his place.

but when you arrive at the scene, the new sight of his door left slightly opened along with what sounds like feet shuffling around tells you you're not going to get to see san today.

"no, because you're literally always fucking like this!"

you flinch at the sudden high volume of a voice you recognize as it fills san's apartment.

"you bring your shit into my house and i'm always the one who has to clean it up."

and though you've only met him a few times, you know it belongs to wooyoung.

"well, how was i supposed to know that she's friends with yunho and mingi and that you would end up liking them so much?"

the sink in your chest is heavy and the beating of your heart is loud; it's an awful revelation that the topic of conversation is... you.

"you don't. no matter who she's friends with or related to, you don't look at someone and think they're the next pretty little thing you're going to ruin."

you listen in closely, a silence that gauges the air making your breath catch inside your throat at the suspense.

you know it's wrong, but turning back doesn't seem to be much of an option especially when it's about you. it's only a given you'd be nosy.

following the silence is a heaved sigh before there's another round of feet walking in place.

"i don't know what you want me to do? if she didn't want it as well, i wouldn't be doing it."

it's san's voice, shortly followed by a sarcastic, dry laughter from wooyoung.

"that's what you always say, choi. that it's their fault; they knew what they were getting into, when you know damn well what you're fucking doing."

he pauses to catch his breath, not done just yet.

"so either get your shit sorted or stop messing with the girl because the last thing i want is a room full of death stares and resentment because my friend is a grade a asshole. i did this shit for you in high school but i'm starting to get real tired of it."

you don't get the chance to process the whirls of emotion attacking all at once, the direction of the footsteps sounding like they're headed for the door and you just assume the worst--that it's wooyoung leaving, scuttling away before you can be seen.

~

when you return to the dorm, the first thing you do is text san with an excuse that something came up. you wouldn't tell him you overheard a conversation that makes you sick to the stomach, so many conflicted thoughts running loose.

surely wooyoung would have suspected something (it's not like you guys were that good at hiding it), but you're also not close to him like that, which leads you to believe the outburst had more to do with yunho and mingi than you.

"well, how was i supposed to know that she's friends with yunho and mingi and that you would end up liking them so much?"

and you're not sure what's worse; having one of your friends tattletale to wooyoung to get san off your back, or that one (if not both) of them knew this whole time.

all those excuses and attempts at being discreet probably looked pathetic to whoever knew it was just so you can fall into the arms of a boy who doesn't care for you in the slightest; who lies to your face and messes with your head.

"i don't know what you want me to do? if she didn't want it as well, i wouldn't be doing it."

~

you're still not in a good headspace by the time you have to meet yeosang, which is literally just an hour after you were supposed to be seeing san.

he's in the far back of the cafe, eyes and nose stuck to a textbook and looking like he's absolutely going to ace this upcoming test.

you on the other hand, is absolutely pissed off your mind the more you keep lingering on it, coupled with the fact that there wasn't even enough time to actually get over it beforehand.

but why couldn't they just talk it out with you first? why did it have to jump straight into telling wooyoung about your business?

and also why the fuck are you not more upset at san? you should be. you need to be. it's evident he planned it all from the start and never really had any good intentions with you.

it's funny how you found all of this out while at his doorstep; maybe the only good thing to have came from it is you didn't end up in his bed (today at least).

but you suppose san being a walking red flag you should stay away from is the equivalent of beating a dead horse at this rate.

the tension is written all over your face when you take a seat across from yeosang, him looking up to quirk an eyebrow.

"hey?"

"hey."

"you sure you don't want to come over here?"

you briefly recall how anal he was about it last time when you sat across, so without further protests, you stand up to go plop down next to him, an irritated sigh departing without much thoughts but it doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"well... okay," he mutters under his breath, wondering who or what managed to tick you off knowing it's not him this time. he's only said a few words so far.

quick to dismiss it because of the limited time, he pulls the neglected laptop into his view, navigating to the school site.

"he made a study guide, we can go over that."

and he really is trying; this being the second time, even gave you somewhat of a proper greeting without any snarks or additional comments, but what bothers him more than your already less than stellar arrival, is your lack of participation.

eyes and ears not even following along and head entirely elsewhere.

mind you, he had to push his schedule back just to come here.

"something wrong? if there's anything bothering you or you have somewhere to be, you can tell me."

"it's nothing."

"sure looks like something because i doubt you heard a single thing."

you knit your brows together, arms crossing over one another as you glare at him.

"blade server: type of server that exists in the form of a single circuit board," you repeat the last term he was going over, even slightly imitating the way he said it.

he chuckles wryly.

"well, you heard one of them at least," he says; some kind of satisfaction that graces the corner of his lips with a faint smirk.

you roll your eyes, moving your attention to one of the paintings hanging on the wall, trying to reframe from bursting because you're still not over what you just heard not even that long ago.

"isn't it tiring?"

your head snaps back to him, confusion overtaking your expression.

"what is?"

"this shy, reserved act of yours whenever you're with others. with your friends, with that guy, san. do they know you're this overbearing in actuality?"

"excuse me?" your voice high in disbelief.

he cocks his head a little.

"or perhaps, that's what it is. you only act like that around guys like san, but someone like me, you're not trying to impress so you don't give jackshit about how you come off."

red on your face, red in your veins, and red under your breath.

"and you don't have an act of your own?" you fire back, somehow managing to find the girl in you who has a voice and definitely some guts, but she who goes missing when it comes to telling san to fuck off.

"pretending to be this nice guy around yunho and mingi, like you're doing a favor by helping their friend when all you do is insult me behind their back."

you stand up furiously, grabbing at your things and sparing him one last glance (that you hope will intimidate him).

"you won't ever have to worry about wasting your time on someone like me ever again."

you don't need mingi or yunho (or both) shielding you like you're an infant still in a cradle, and you definitely do not need kang yeosang blowing up on you when you're just starting to realize how much you hate this fucking computer class and all this technical junk; when everything's already going to shit.

but your whole life has been a load of shit one after another so you suppose it's not entirely out of place.

which is why you ultimately decided that if it's going to turn to shit, it should all just be on the table at this point.

when you show at mingi's door just a few minutes right after you get off work, you know wooyoung is not there. he usually never is. he's always either at his own parties or at one of the five other properties under his parents name.

between the two options, you're more willing to bet it's the one person who actually shares a living space with wooyoung, squeezing yourself in and slamming the door behind before mingi could even get out a simple 'hey'.

he's stunned by the sudden cornering, as expected.

"woah there, missy," mingi coos, that lighthearted tone in his voice you recognize whenever he jokes around--completely disregarding the more serious look on your face.

"did you... by any chance, said something to wooyoung?"

you try to keep vague, for all you know, you just might be overstepping the boundaries and giving your friends too little credits.

wooyoung could've done it even without the push from one of them, but it's best to confirm before digging your own grave.

mingi pulls his brows into confusion.

"like?"

you clear your throat, swallowing down a knot, loathing how much harder he's making this, or if he's just really good at burying his own dirts. it's not exactly out of character for him.

"like--"

the abrupt knock at the door from behind cuts you short, your breath fuming before turning around to open it; the thinning patience not allowing you to consider even for a second who it might be, a small jump in your body when you see it's the other suspect. how convenient.

yunho doesn't say anything and neither does you or mingi. he awkwardly clears the block in his throat and walks himself in through the small space until he's standing tall in front of you.

after you close the door, it's the longest silence you've ever endured in the presence of the two, all your eyes bouncing from one to another before yunho finally speaks.

"did i miss an invitation?"

mingi chuckles, seemingly already relaxed.

"you're not the only one. miss y/n just busted into my room to interrogate me."

you shoot lasers at him and mutters something inaudible under your breath. it could be yunho, but he's usually the wiser of the two and mingi hasn't exactly done anything that makes him less likely--

"it was me," yunho deadpan, both you and mingi shooting his direction so fast.

mingi having no idea what's going on, switches his gaze between the expressionless boy next to him and the enraged look on you.

"why?" you say, so short and simple but the tone is everything but that.

"because i can't bear to watch you keep doing this to yourself. my intuition was right, and--"

"and you couldn't just talk to me?"

"wait, is this about san?" mingi ask, his voice such a contrast to the bubbling tension.

"and if i talked to you, would you have even listened?"

"well, i wouldn't know because you didn't even talk to me. you just went straight into airing my business to his friend."

"it's definitely about san," mingi mutters to himself, his presence completely ignored.

"i just thought that maybe san might listen to wooyoung since they're friends. and that if he stays away, you'll reframe from seeking him out."

it's quiet after that but the air is thick as you two stare into each other with something unpleasant brewing in your chest.

"h-how did you know?"

a low exhale departs yunho before he answers, "it was only a suspicion at first, but then i saw san walking back with you to the dorm that night. and well... you're kind of awful at being discreet."

an eyebrow raise at the confession, your face eventually twisting into distaste.

"you were spying on me?!"

"i wasn't spying on you. it was a coincidence, ask mingi. me and him were coming back from the library because of the campus job i was telling you about."

so... mingi saw it, too.

"yunho... i appreciate your concerns, but, i can make my own choices."

a dry, almost mocking laughter leaves him as he takes a seat at the edge of mingi's bed and stares you down.

yunho isn't an intimidating person; the boy always so nice and easy to talk to, any fights or arguments you guys ever had up till this point has never been this bad. but his gaze right now does make you feel a little small.

"and what is that going to be?" he throws his hands up. "returning to the same person who you know is emotionally unavailable? who won't ever love you the way you really want him to?"

"you talk as if you know him personally..."

you know you shouldn't have said it; defending someone who doesn't deserve it, and well aware there's not a single bone in yunho's body that is capable of harms, but you're so tired of the coddling.

so tired of being looked at as someone breakable.

"no. but i know people like him; guys like him. i know that they will never just magically come around, and most of all, i know that this isn't what you want. you're sticking to him in hope that he'll change his mind, no matter how much you want to deny it."

you've always hated how observant he is...

"then... why do you guys hang with wooyoung, and why is he friends with san? wooyoung is a good person, right? so shouldn't san be, too?"

you're deflecting; it's awful, but it does catches yunho offguard, and even mingi. yunho who was so sure before now mouth clasped tight, because yunho's an honest man, and as an honest man, he doesn't know either.

the couple of times he's met wooyoung, he's aways been pleasant to be around; welcoming of his presence with opened arms and always with a smile on his face to make sure yunho was never left out.

the question asked--more for wooyoung himself than yunho.

"i'm not sure if i can answer that, but, can you promise me at least? that you'll stay away? if not for me, do it for yourself."

you're quiet, shifting to look down at the floor and tracing the pattern when a groan falls from yunho.

"fine." he stands up, his towering height and cold eyes making you feel all sorts.

"call me whenever you actually consider our friendship these last four years instead of whatever you're having with a guy that you just met this semester."

"yunho..." mingi mumbles, disapproval in his tone.

yunho doesn't say anything else, only rushing for the door as he brushes past you before it is slammed shut.

"he didn't mean it." mingi glares at you.

"i know he didn't."

you limp to his bed, taking the seat where yunho was sitting before, still able to feel the warmth he had left behind.

mingi sighs, shaking his head and eventually sitting down with you.

"and i know you don't want to hear this again, but he's right."

as a friend, mingi cares for you. of course he does. but as the boy who found you under that oak tree when you were fourteen years old; as someone who knew you before yunho, before anyone else, he also understands the curiosity you hold for the world; for what else is out there.

you have been deprived of these things almost your entire life, he thinks it's ony natural. so he never tries to be too hard on you when he sees your eyes wander and your nose perked.

he's just always sitting back and watching; observing. yunho and him the perfect contrast to one another because though he may be loud and obnoxious, he tries to stir away from possibly upsetting you. whereas yunho can be a bit overprotective despite his quietness on a surface level.

"i know..." you say, "i just... wish he'd have a little bit more faith in me. i-i can handle it." even you're failing to convince yourself.

mingi breathes out a pitiful look in his eyes, taking your hands into his and locks gaze with you. he's about to get sentimental and you know it. his silly and laidback personality a perfect combination to his more vulnerable side he lets loose once in a while.

"remember the last time you fought with yunho?"

you wouldn't really call it a fight, it was barely an argument, maybe more of a disagreement but aside from this one, that was definitely the most heated you two ever got.

you nod, mumbling in a low volume, "yeah."

"and how angry you were at him?"

"yeah, because he was acting without thinking and i was worried about him."

it was a fight between yunho and minji, at first over something so small but eventually escalating into something bigger.

"i was afraid he was gonna do something he'd regret later."

yunho had spent most of his high school years crushing on minji, always so shy and unconfident, until he finally mustered up the courage to ask the girl out to which she said yes (obviously). and he was gonna throw it all away for something that he probably wouldn't even think about a week from then.

"exactly. because you were looking out for him, and he's just looking out for you, too."

your hands stiffen in mingi's grasp, a sullen look on your face. you also know that.

"look," he says, scooting closer. "i poke my nose in everything, and it's only because i live to annoy you, but in all honestly, i wouldn't ever intrude on your personal affairs. but some days, i still think about how he treated you back at the party."

he goes on, "i was happy at first, him being wooyoung's friend and all. he was also okay when we went out to dinner, but someone who genuinely likes you would not sideline you the way he did."

your mind briefly flashes back to the party, thinking about how hopeful and stupid you looked with that jacket on like a little lost puppy.

thinking about the smirk so fittingly as it rested on his lips when he flirted with your unknowing roommate, using her as leverage to achieve whatever end result he was getting at.

thinking about how you foolishly believed his lie at the time, but overtime seeing for yourself nothing is accidental or coincidental especially in the face of a man like san.

everything is done intentionally and with the purpose to gain; getting you a job and definitely messing with you at the party. he might've even lied on that date with jongho, too.

"and i never asked for anything from you before, but i'm just asking this one time, if you can... please listen to yunho and keep a distance from san."

mingi squeezes your hand, his stance desperate as he awaits your answer.

it takes longer this time around for you to say something, but when you finally do, mingi could've swear he heard it wrong when a quiet "fine" falls from your lips.

"r-really?" his eyes grow in incredulity.

you nod. "if you and yunho are this worried, then i'll stop seeing him."

his chest exhales in relief, the once uneasy expression on him dropping, wondering what prompted the sudden change of mind or if he's really just that good at giving overall sappy speeches.

"oh dear, you got me so scared."

you giggle at his comment, the first time today you're allowed to smile.

he releases the hold on you, backing up a little but gaze having never left, a slight tense in his body language that you know he's going to act on.

"okay, but, can i ask something? and bitch you better not lie to me. we tell each other everything, remember?"

you swallow the knot in your throat, afraid of what he's going to ask and with a feeling it's going to knock your breath away.

"right," you hesitantly answer.

and well... you hate to be correct.

"have you slept with him?"

you almost choked on your own saliva.

"mingi..." you hiss.

"you heard me, bitch. did you guys do the devil's tango?"

you roll your eyes, kicking at his leg lightly and exasperating out loud.

"oh my god, why the hell are you calling it that?"

"oh, whatever. you know what i mean. did. you. guys. fucked?" he crosses his arms.

he can be so sweet and understanding, and then at the same time, go and ask questions like this.

he squints his eyes.

"you know, silence is incriminating. hesitation is damaging, and something tells me you slept with him. not once. not twice."

a small surge of panic rushes in, grabbing at the pillow nearby and smacking him in the face with it.

he winces in exaggerated pain and you toss the pillow back, shooting daggers at him.

"i swear, if you rip that, you're paying for a new one."

"worth it to shut that big ass mouth of yours."

it's a couple seconds before he breaks out into laughter and you follow along with a simple giggle.

"okay but please... can you promise me you won't tell yunho?"

he shrugs, lips quirked to the side.

"what makes you think he doesn't suspect it as well? but sure, i guess. you should really talk to him, though. after this."

mingi plays it cool, a smile on his face and burying that feeling aside that he's just the littlest bit of sad your first time went to someone who doesn't love you.

granted, he's never really cared too much for such thing, always having joked around his parents will end up with no grandkids because he doesn't plan on adopting, either.

but he's always thought that if you were to have it, he'd want your first time to be special. with someone you love, and who loves you the same; your heart always so big and with so much to give.

not someone like san who lures you in with his handsome look and butterflies-alarming words, knowing he never planned to give anything in return except to add to the list of your miseries.

he can't help but feel it is his fault--for leaving you at the party and for ever introducing wooyoung.

but at least now, you will stay away and spare yourself an inevitable heartbreak... he hopes.

~

you approach the door of yunho's room with cautious steps, hesitation in your appearance because of the one person he shares the space with.

you knock lightly, proceeding to wait and it doesn't take long before it creaks open and yunho is standing before you.

he doesn't look surprised by it, if anything, he looks like he was expecting you to show up at one point. it's just so in character.

you take this chance to sneak a glance past his shoulders, seeing it's in the clear.

"may i come in?" you ask sweetly.

he nods, a hum under his breath and steps aside to let you in.

"i'm sorry," you say, turning to him as his back is to the door. "sorry for acting like a bitch earlier, i know you were just looking out for me. and... i talked to mingi, and i already promised him i-i'll stay away from san."

rather than a sudden change of mind, it was more the realization that you don't need whispered sweet lies or kisses from a boy who doesn't even like you; who always have made you feel so shitty about yourself.

your friends matter, and you're going to listen to them.

that the next time choi san calls or texts, no matter what emojis he uses or what words he will say to get you to come to his place, you're going to ignore him.

next // series m.list

taglist: @sorryimananti-romantic @revehosh @cookiechristie @avantalem @atiny68 @belletiny @shibera @mochibabycakes @justineasian @eastleighsblog @baguette-atiny @crimson-mia @yeosxxx @m4rsluv @sleepychimm @atz-diary @diorwoo @naiify @becauseiloveyunho @damagelove @softie00 @s-nsanshine @atinytinaa @moonseonghwa @lemontreefantasy @wooyoung4eva @yeosangsbiceps @likexaxdaydream @knucklesdeepmingi @barbielibra @tmtxtf @brown88 @harusoraa

#the amount of times i write about someone's eyes #or them smiling #ateez angst #san x reader #choi san angst #choi san x reader #ateez x reader #ateez series #san angst #fic: broken

[mommalosthermind]

So this happened:

Me: “I feel like I wrote Lisa kinda snotty in this passage, d’you think she could pull off snotty?”

Him: “Not really? If you want bitchy then you need Yae Miko, Lisa’s kinda normal unless you’re late with a book.”

Me: “…Lisa’s vaguely condescending though.”

Him: “Yeah, I can see that. Miko can be straight up mean but Lisa would be like, ‘Careful cutie, keep that up and I might forget your safeword,”

Which I can fucking hear, and it is thus completely not my fault that this immediately popped into my head:

(Lisa/Jean/Kaeya under the cut)

Teatime is meant to be sacred, you know. It’s a darling little ritual to break up the day. Peaceful, harmonious. If, lately, it’s also come with a delightful side of spending time with Jean, and occasionally Kaeya, well, that’s just two more reasons for teatime to be important, don’t you think?

Sometimes, though, not even the fear of Lisa’s wrath can keep Jean’s underlings from interrupting.

Lisa’s fingertips rub circles into her temples. In all honesty, she tuned out whatever crisis this is ages ago. Her tea’s lone gone. The other two cups, so carefully brewed, are cold. No one’s touched the assortment of sliced fruits, nor the biscuits.

It might be selfish of her, to be sad over such a silly thing, but really, is it? Jean works so hard. Lisa all but bullied her into routinely meeting up like this, and Kaeya’s no better. Yes, she’s sad about the loss of their quiet rest, the lack of time together, but at the heart of it, Lisa’s upset at how the rest of the world is intent on working them both into an early grave.

Varka’s in for an earful when he returns.

Half an hour. That’s all she’s trying to give them. Half an hour to breathe.

Instead, Kaeya paces the length of the rug, voice rising and falling in its most persuasive tones. Jean stands behind her chair, one hand curled over the back. Bruises are beginning to darken under her eyes. How much more lovely would she look, if she was simply allowed a full night’s sleep? How broad would those shoulders really be, if they weren’t coiled so tight with tension? For that matter, Lisa’s willing to bet Kaeya’s lip would swell so much sweeter if the teeth sinking into it weren’t so rife with worry.

Irritation spikes in Jean’s voice, calling Lisa back to the present. She purrs, “Careful cutie, keep that up and I might forget your safeword.”

They freeze. They always do. It’s adorable, really, how easy it is to trip them up like this.

Jean’s flush is a thing of beauty, much darker than Lisa can usually pull out with a single line.

Lisa tilts her head, and blinks.

Neither of them have moved. They’re simply… staring at one another.

Her brows bunch together. Hmm. Perhaps she’s overstepped.

All at once, Kaeya animates, a too-loud laugh filling the space between them all. He waves an extravagant hand in the air, ambling back to Jean’s side. “Be careful yourself,” he says, glancing from Jean’s red face to Lisa. “Lines that like are liable to lose you the soft domme reputation you’ve so pointedly cultivated.”

Lisa smiles, making sure to allow it to bloom slowly. She watches a lovely shiver work its way up Jean’s spine.

“What I’m hearing is you think I’d make a good domme,” she says, and allows her smile to curl into sultry as the edge of Kaeya’s lip tucks between his teeth.

Jean’s inhale is sharp.

Like the blustery thing he is, he opens his mouth as soon as he catches her looking. “Is that so? Do good dommes often ‘forget’ safewords?”

“Only with permission, darling. After all, it would be my job to take care of you, wouldn’t it? That includes giving you the punishments you want.”

Kaeya’s eye is blown wide enough to lose its star shape.

“Although, I do find myself far more interested in giving out praise over punishments. And I wouldn’t need to punish the two of you, now would I?”

“I feel,” Jean squeaks, stopping to clear her throat. “Oh my goodness,” her hands come up to pat at her still-burning cheeks.

Kaeya attempts what Lisa assumes is meant to be a laugh, but it comes out more like a rough breath.

“This is maybe not a work appropriate conversation,” Jean says, still squeaky, still red, still staring at Lisa like she’s never seen her before.

Lisa stands, and watches how they swallow in unison.

And then the door bangs open, Amber rushing in with another fistful of papers.

“You will not believe the amount of nonsense,” Amber exclaims, only to stop dead and stare at the three of them. “Um. Is everything okay here? Is this a bad time?”

Jean shakes herself, once, twice, and when she pulls her gorgeous eyes off Lisa for the first time in ages, Lisa finds that she’s had quite enough of that, thank you very much.

“It is, yes,” she says before Jean can dive right back into whatever inane thing needs her attention now. “Go ahead and drop that anywhere, and we’ll get back to you later, okay?”

Amber’s already nodding, her eyebrows pressed tightly together. “Yeah, yeah, okay, and I’ll tell Wyatt not to let anyone else in for now.”

The girl’s gone in the same rush she arrived, door thunking closed behind her. As an added precaution, Lisa activates her personal wards, watching both doors glow a faint purple.

“Did I know you could do that?” Kaeya asks mildly.

Jean’s already moving to collect the papers Amber left behind.

Lisa tuts. “Jeanie, sit.”

Jean sits.

Jean sits, and then an absolutely baffled expression takes over her pretty face. That flush is back in full force.

“Good girl,” Lisa says, leaning one hip on the table across from her.

Oh.

That flush goes so dark Lisa’s a little worried the poor thing’s gone dizzy.

Goodness, if this keeps up, Lisa is going to be the dizzy one.

“And I believe that’s my cue,” Kaeya chirps, easing around where Jean’s still gaping up at Lisa. “Mind undoing the door long enough to let me out?”

“I’m afraid I do mind. Your turn, sweetie. Sit down for me.”

“Aha,” Kaeya says, but his feet stop moving.

“Jeanie baby?”

Jean slings one arm out, tugging Kaeya in until he sits across her lap, held in place with her arms around his hips.

That one blue eye slides from Jean to Lisa and back again, as though he can’t decide where he should be looking.

“So good for me,” Lisa says again, delighting in the way the two of them melt into each other. “Aren’t you two just the prettiest little kittens I’ve ever seen.”

She sits back down, leaves them to press into each other, lets them keep their eyes on her as she starts preparing them all new cups of tea. When she looks up, Kaeya’s slouched down to cuddle into Jean’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around her middle. All three of those gorgeous eyes are fixed on her, exactly where she likes them best.

“Now then. I think we have some new things to discuss, and you two darlings have some safewords to pick out.” She winks, and relishes the way two sets of teeth sink into lower lips. “Don’t worry. I won’t forget them unless you want me to.”

#Momma writes #genshin impact fanfic #lisa/jean/kaeya #Lisa/jean #lisa/kaeya #kaejean #kaejeanlisa? Does this one have a dedicated ship name? #kaeya alberich #lisa minci #jean gunnhildr #this is messy as fuck but it’s a tumblr fic i slapped together while yelling at my partner for giving me brainrot so it is what it is #im so sorry lmao #Now. The real question. Is do i clean it up and slap it on ao3 or pretend i never wrote this #Anyway: Lisa just wants to take care of her idiots: a thread #The mortifying ordeal of posting fic

[sashi-ya]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫. [chapter 2] 𝚔𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚔𝚒 𝚋𝚢𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚢𝚊 𝚡 𝚏! 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 [+18]

✦ adapted to x! reader from my original oc story. ✦ tw: pure sinful smut. based on free use kink. Chapter 2 contains somnofilia (asked by reader). Everything is consented by reader from the very first line. vaginal sex. oral sex. explicit language. fingering. mentions of anal (upcoming next chapters). cum dump/cream pie. rough sex. ✦ chapter 1 / chapter 3 / chapter 4

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐀 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧

Dark, it got totally dark. No more moon outside, only dark clouds and fog all around. Byakuya has turned and tossed for the last couple of hours, while you peacefully rest by his side.

He can’t stop watching at you. There are some remaining marks on your shoulders and neck; marks that his own fingers and teeth have carved. When did he ever got that feral? He never, ever, been that much of a brute with a woman… with a man, maybe… but with a woman?

Byakuya barely grazes your cheek with just the tip of his fingers, admiring the beauty of your façade. He remembers the way he used to be with Hisana. Soft, delicate, as if she were made of porcelain, as if she could break if he dared to touch her in a more violent way.

But you aren’t Hisana. You aren’t sick. You are a strong Shinigami, almost as strong as Renji. You have your Bankai mastered, and it is cruel and merciless. You are also dumb and silly, and yet as intelligent as him whenever it is needed.

The captain of the sixth squad, realizes that, he could go the extra mile with your. He could train with your swords, and he could also fight your. He understands that you could potentially beat him if you trained hard enough… but is that enough reason to be so ruthless with you?

“Forgive me…” he whispers. Byakuya can’t comprehend why, above all things, you allowed him to go that way. Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you complain?

“For loving me?” you whisper back, turning around to face his troubled eyes.

Byakuya does a little jump scare, flinching so cutely. He swallows, looking away. It was as if he felt absolutely embarrassed by the things he has done to you, by telling you “you can’t say no to me.”

“It was me who asked you to do this. It was me who asked you to fuck me with no mercy and until I tell you to stop and even though begged you not to… you are only letting your true inner self out” You mumble, still sleepy. You pat the bed, as Byakuya has stood up and sat by the edge of the bed.

“It was you, but I didn’t need to be that rough” he says, muffled by his hands on his face. He seems troubled, more than usual. Guilty, perhaps.

You scoff. After all, even with all his great skills, Byakuya is still unexperienced. So, you kneel on bed and get to him, surrounding his waist with your hands. With your chin on his right shoulder, you plant a kiss on the sharp line of his mandible.

“You weren’t that rough, Taicho… Why are you acting as if you were?” you challenge him. Is not that you considered him to be a bad lover, in fact it was quite the opposite. You still feel your muscles tired, and your insides a little revolted. But there is just one way to make Kuchiki Taicho feel better; teasing him to the point he gets mad…

Byakuya grunts as he turns around. He gives you a deadly side stare, those he is so used to give whenever something -minor- annoys him. That’s him repressing his rage, his inner world shaking as Senbonzakura hits every damn wall of it with no patience.

You know his real self. You known him since he was a child training to become the next Kuchiki clan leader. And things… are about to get… interesting.

“Go back to sleep, it’s really late” he murmurs, with a straightforwardness that scares you.

You nod; while up until now there was an innocent mischief in yours eyes, now there is just a tint of sadness. You go back to bed, with no words. And snuggled back into the covers you close your eyes.

“I can’t manipulate him like a child. I’m an idiot” you whisper to yourself before falling asleep again…

---.---

In between dreams and reality, you feel arms surrounding your frame from behind. Your naked back sweaty, and a sharp pain on your shoulder. Too tired to wake up, you could only thought about it being a dream… Byakuya was probably mad at you, so no matter how much you wished it were him, you knew he couldn’t.

However, you still feel delicate motions all over yours body. Hands that so soft slide up and down your waist, and a warmth in between your thighs.

“Heh…” you scoff. Not sure if aloud or maybe just for yours dreams. The warmth in between your legs becomes hardness and wetness; A pressure into your lower belly more noticeable.

“You said whenever? I want it now” Byakuya whispers into yours ear, ripping a sleepy smirk from you. “I just come to the idea I don’t have to be that rough to use you, you know that? You are mine, so mine. I can use you whenever I want”

Byakuya lifts your leg up, sliding himself inside you. At this point, with a completely conscious -but with eyes closed- you, there is no coming back… he is doing exactly what you wanted…

“I wasn’t wrong after all” you think, giggling. But Byakuya’s intrusion makes your mind go numb, and a moan to escape your lips. A moan followed by a curse, and by that curse the sweet -and evil- laughter of Kuchiki Taicho.

You reach for his waist, grazing his skin with the tip of yours nails as he fucks you slowly but so deliciously. Byakuya enjoys you limpid state more than he thought he would, and it is perhaps because he can be the only one controlling yours with no effort… after so many rules being followed throughout his life, breaking so many, being the one imposing stuff on yours feels like heaven. Guilty perversion of his, that he is being allowed to indulge in.

“Mh… even half asleep your cunt can’t get enough of me, huh?” he murmurs, giving you deep thrusts and pressing your lower belly from behind. Maybe what he wants is to feel his own dick against his palm as he goes far inside his lover.

“Ye- yeh- more more” you mumble, with Byakuya’s fingers inside your mouth, pulling down your lip, getting his hand soaked with your saliva. You can’t be asleep no more; Your body is at complete mercy of your captain.

Byakuya keeps going, in and out, hitting your spot with no shame. His hips motions are a blessing to any woman, to any man, to any person. And he is enjoying this practice a lot; so much he covers your mouth with his palm. “Shh… you keep sleeping while I fill you up”.

A shiver runs through your spine, never in a million years you would have imagined such lewdness coming from Kuchiki Taicho, and you can’t wait for this to be first time of eternal ones.

You barely breathe, as he has also added his other hand around your neck, pressing the sides, making your world spin around. You can’t move; Byakuya’s legs have trapped yours like tentacles, keeping them shut tight as he stretches your walls with his sex. The tighter, the better.

You get a grip of yourself by clenching your free hand to his forearm as he chokes you so mercilessly. Your long nails carve red marks on Byakuya’s pale skin, staying there as the memories of such abusive orgasmic experience.

When Byakuya is satisfied with fucking you by the side, he flips you so that you end up with your belly against the bed.

He lifts your ass up, but just your ass. He loves to fuck you with your head pressed into the pillow and your ecstasy tears and drool wetting its case.

The noble passes his open hand from the small of your back towards your nape, following the natural line of your spine. As he reaches for your hair, he pulls your head back from it so dominantly.

“I wanna cum inside you tonight, so I will keep fucking that sweet cunt of yours… but I can tell you next time I want that little ass to be mine” the noble spits, so out of himself. Anyone who’d listen to such words would never believe that were said by Kuchiki Byakuya.

You can barely process his “threat;” He wants to fuck all your holes, and you are beyond pleased with the idea. But it is not now when you should be thinking of it, but about your upcoming orgasmic explosion.

The sound of his skin flapping against yours with each thrust fills the room; the heat of their bodies fogging the windows, Byakuya’s grunts making (Name) so drunk of yours lover’s voice.

He lets go of your hair, allowing the locks to fall like a beautiful sunset rain on your back. Byakuya falls over yours, crushing your body with his lean strong one.

His legs spread yours enough for him to move freely inside of you; Your toes carve on the futon in response for such deepness. You have just met yours favourite position, that, and the paralyzing pleasure of climax.  

Shivering, quivering, yours walls give your lover the last needed stimulation for him to also burst. Byakuya moans with his nose pressed against your hair as he comes along with you. He inhales your perfume, as if it were the holly perfume of a goddess. While you can feel his seed once again flooding your insides… oh the dangerous need of lust and love.

“I promise I’ll let you sleep until tomorrow… and get ready… I’m not over yet” “By-Byakuya-sama… uh… I hope you never get tired of me…”

End of chapter 2.

chapter 3

#byakuya kuchiki x reader #kuchiki byakuya x reader #byakuya x reader #byakuya kuchiki imagine #byakuya x you #kuchiki byakuya #byakuya kuchiki x you #kuchiki byakuya x you #byakuya #kuchiki byakuya imagine #byakuya kuchiki #bleach #bleach headcanons #bleach imagines #bleach byakuya #bleach x reader #bleach anime #bleach fanart

[coonhoundcat]

Peppered Finch 2 | Hero x Villain

|| I wasn't going to post anything more about this. I don't even know what this is, but @hobbyistauthor had to come along and be awesome, and show genuine interest, so here we are. May this bring some amusement, even if only a little. And thank you for being such a beautifully supportive person. ||

Part 1

Hero was not about to spend the initial weeks of their relocation 'sitting about' and retaking 'Danger Awareness' courses, no matter how appealing the option was beginning to look.

"Yes, well; I just mean that it all seems a bit…" There was a heavy hand on their shoulder, and Hero was presently doing a fantastic job at not shrugging it off, or grimacing unpleasantly, or setting fire to the owner, or- or really anything that they really, really wanted to do just about now.

"Silly?" The thick, overly-warm voice grated on their ears, and Hero was suddenly quite proud of the neutral expression they were currently keeping plastered on their face.

"….. That is a word for it."

The hand lifted just enough to pat their shoulder twice-- supposedly sympathetically, before it retreated; allowing Hero to breath a sigh of relief.

"It's for the comfort of the civilians," the large, heroic figure assured, hands suddenly appearing to smooth down the sides of Hero's cape.

Hero didn't quite suppress the shudder.

"Pleasant names, so they know we're there to help-- to bring a little joy, and to ensure some- hmm, separation, as it were. Keep them from getting confused."

There was a little clink as those hands fastened something to the shoulder of Hero's cape, and an immediate shift as they withdrew-- the weight of the addition sagging a little at the cloth.

Hero glanced down at the metal clip, and felt their enthusiasm sink right along with it. Well, they struggled with a smile, a sudden shame at the sullenness broiling in their stomach, it could certainly have been worse.

"Are you sure?"

Hero's eyes flickering back up to the broad, cushy beam-- straining to keep the pleasantness on their own face. The grin only grew wider.

"We do want you well rested and healed up, so that you can return to the more… active parts of your duties." They leaned in.

"…. Quite alright," Hero returned the unblinking stare, the wrist of their right wing shifting slightly to settle the grey-and white speckled cape more firmly over their shoulders. "I'm fully confident that I'm capable of a few house visits." They could feel their superior's eyes linger on the mottled fabric across their stomach, as if they could see through it to the thick sling beneath.

"But thank you for your concern, Captain."

Something pitying crossed the greater hero's face, if only for a moment-- and they leaned back again, smiling as (theoretically) benevolently as ever.

"Such a good hero," a hand patted their shoulder again, whilst a second set of limbs procured a heavy messenger bag; offering it fully to Hero. "Such a dedicated officer. Run along, now-- and don't overexert yourself. Wouldn't want that arm of yours getting any worse."

Hero took the satchel quickly, using the action of slinging it across their chest to hide the grimace settling onto their features. They were too damn old to have an officer this patronizing.

--

The hero folded their hands-- er, well, hand-- neatly behind their back, feeling the light sting of the chilled metal through their glove. The rap of the knocker against the wood echoed through the door and into the brick building beyond, fading into the mild buzz of the street just outside.

They took a half-step back onto the edge of the stoop, shoulders stiffening against the growing chill. Subtly, they shifted their cape; letting the thick, heavy thing drape a little more fully over the arm presently tucked to their stomach.

They didn't wait long for the door to open; a sharp, dark-eyed face peering out of the partial crack between the door and the frame; a bedraggled, fluffed-up creature blinking warily (and quite tiredly) at the outside world-- and, after a moment, at Hero specifically. It took a moment for a firm scowl to settle on their face.

Hero fought to keep something akin to a smile in their own expression. "Citizen Bracket?" They tried, straightening slightly.

The civilian stared blankly at them, and Hero felt their shoulders raise.

"Ah, I'm looking for… er, are you…?"

"Who the hell are you?"

"Ah-" Hero rocked back a little, feeling legitimately relieved; despite the civilian's heavy glare. "Yes; of course-- I'm-" their eyes flickered down to the metal pin clinging to their cape, expression souring slightly, "- I'm Officer 'Downey', at your--and the public at large's--service." They extended a hand cordially, waiting patiently for the civilian to take it.

After about thirty seconds, Officer Downey faltered, arm dropping back to their side. "I've just been reassigned to the area, you see-" the citizen was glaring silently at them again, "-and I'm doing a few house visits--a little grunt-work, you're probably familiar--and I've got orders to come see about a matter at this address-" Officer Downey twisted in place, repurposing the rejected hand to rifle clumsily through the messenger bag strapped across their chest, shoving various letters and notes aside- "-let me just find- I'm sure you remember whatever incident it was, probably meant to take a report on it- I just need the official document to verify- yes! Here," they dislodged a pink envelope from the mass of paper, holding it up with a triumphant flourish.

Throwing a quick, reassuring smile at Presumably-Bracket, the hero proceeded to struggle getting the thing open one-handed-- coming away with a few more edges to the note than was originally intended. "That part's, uh, optional-- anyway!" Downey smoothed the letter over as much as possible, eyes scanning the first few lines. "As a licensed and recognized officer of the Agency, a protector of peace, and a servant to the city and country, it is my honor to present the household of 1717 Shefler Street with this….. uh…." The hero looked at the glanced up at the citizen in the doorway, dark eyes boring angrily into their own-- and back down at the paper. They repeated the motion twice more, before swallowing roughly.

"…. I'm afraid you're being evicted."

#hero x villain community #hero #heroes and villains #villain x hero #creative writing #hero x villain #writing snippet #snippet #writeblr #original fiction #original writing #superhero #wingfic

[take-taker-taken]

Hi.... I've been backreading your blog since my old interest in WWE has been reignited and I love your writing and your enthusiasm for these wrestlers (they're my favourites ^-^) I've never requested fic before so I'm not sure what the etiquette is, but if you would be willing, I'd love to see a fic with Early 90s!Undertaker x a trans man!reader, maybe with the reader being a novice wrestler. Thank you and have a lovely day/night etc

Hi, Anon! Thank you for the lovely comments 😊 Here’s your fic - hope you enjoy! I have no idea whether ‘Cyclone’ is a genuine wrestler’s name anywhere and I didn’t google so I hope there are no hideous unintentional clashes with anything.

Learning Curve

You pace nervously around the canvas, giving the occasional glance over to the curtained off doorway that sits around 60 feet away. You were told to be here by noon to get some more ring time in, and that they’d send someone down to work with you. Your heart nearly stops when the curtain is flipped to one side and a giant appears - the shaggy, russet-coloured hair is unmistakeable. There’s no hat or long coat, but he’s wearing the rest of his ring gear - black tights and a black shirt with short, ragged sleeves. This can’t be who they’ve sent… you take an involuntary step back.

The giant walks slowly down the walk way before stopping a few feet from the apron.

“Cyclone, right?” Your first thought is that his voice isn’t quite as deep as you’ve heard in his promos. You nod dumbly and he does a quick step that brings him right up to the edge and then he’s climbing through the ropes. “I’m Undertaker,” he says, holding out his hand. You meet the handshake and swallow as your hand disappears into his huge paw.

“Good to meet you, sir.” You manage not to stutter as you stare up at his face, taking in the sharp, green eyes and the scruffy red beard. He cocks his head and you see his eyes flick over your chest as he takes you in. You’re used to that, and you know that there’s an understanding around the locker room of your history and so you just tighten up your grip a little on his hand before you release each other.

“They said you wanted to get some ring time, and work on a few things?” He stands with his hands on his hips, all business.

You nod again and then silently curse your current lack of vocal ability. Damn, he really is cute without all that purple-coloured make up under his eyes. He looks vaguely amused at your unintentional guppy impersonation and reaches out, slapping you lightly on the arm.

“So what do you want to work on? Holds? Offence and defence? I’m thinking lifts might be out just now.” He quirks an eyebrow as he mentions lifts and you laugh a little and shrug.

“Yeah… I don’t think I could lift you. Could we… could I try some takedowns?” You feel kind of silly asking, but at the same time there’s not much you can do without his say so. To your relief he nods and takes a few steps back.

“Sure - come at me with it and we’ll check your technique.”

You back off to the ropes and brace yourself to charge forward and then stop. “Umm, are you going to defend, or…”

“Naw, we’ll keep it straightforward and work on how you deal with a defence against it later. Now, hit it.”

You take a deep breath and launch yourself towards the waiting giant and into the move, amazed when he drops back so easily and then you’re left straddling him, your hands resting on his stomach. You’re nearly overwhelmed with a desire to just lean forward the rest of the way and kiss across those massive shoulders but you give your head a shake and then roll off him.

Still on his back, he turns his head lazily to one side and nods at you. “That was good. No messing around or acting like your opponent’s gonna break.”

You smile, delighted at the praise and shift on to your knees. “Thanks. It felt really good - never thought you’d go down so easily.” As soon as the words are out, you blush at the completely unintended double entendre. He doesn’t seem to pay it any mind though, and then you both get back to your feet.

“OK, again.” He beckons you on and so you repeat the move and again he falls to the canvas. You do it a third time and then on the fourth he counters but doesn’t give it his all so you’re able to recover quickly. Warmed up now and with the adrenaline starting to flow, you bounce on your toes and then he steps up and ruffles your hair with one big hand.

“Alright, boy - I think it’s time you were on your back for a while. Hit the ropes one, two, three and then when you come off the last time, I’m gonna give you a clothesline.”

You push the image he’s just conjured out of your mind and nod enthusiastically before doing as he’s said with the rope work. You even manage not to flinch as you approach his outstretched oak branch of an arm. You drop on to your back and then close your eyes as he follows you down, pinning you with his body weight. He leans across you, elbow propped on the canvas as he smirks.

“Yeah, this is much better. Think you can kick out?” He leans over a little more as he says it and you know there isn’t a hope in hell of being able to get your shoulder up off the floor.

You shake your head. “Nope.” You’re breathing hard from the slam to the floor. “You got me.”

“I do, don’t I?” He lowers his head until his lips are just a few inches from yours. “How you feeling down there?”

Your heart pounds as you contemplate this latest double entendre and notice that those green eyes are sparkling. “Down here?” You reply, shrugging as best you can before adding, “Or down there?”

You can see that you’ve caught him off guard just a bit when he pauses and then chuckles. “Yeah, that’s real cute, boy. You’ve got a smart mouth.” He moves an inch closer. “A smart, pretty mouth.”

You take a breath in order to reply and then he’s closed the gap and his lips are pressed to yours. Only for a couple of seconds, as he draws back to look you over one last time. “This OK?”

In answer, you take your turn to close the gap but he quickly retakes control and you happily capitulate, parting your lips to allow his tongue entrance. He tastes fresh and clean and as he thoroughly kisses you into oblivion your hips twitch as his other hand wanders down over your hip and between your legs. He strokes repeatedly over your inner thigh and then you almost feel the effort of will as he backs off and ends the kiss.

“We can’t do this here.” He dips back down for another quick peck to your lips before he moves his arm and lets you up. “Let’s go get showered up.” You get to your feet and must have puppy dog eyes as you see the tenting in his tights, as smile pulls at the corner of his mouth and he ruffles your hair again.

“If there’s nobody -”

“If there’s nobody in there then you’re mine, boy. Ain’t waiting any longer than I have to.” He steps to the side of the ring and ever the gentleman, pushes down the middle rope to give you room to easily scoot out before he follows you on to the apron and down. You head back up the ramp and shout in surprise as he smacks your ass. “Let’s hurry it up - I need to speak to the office - make sure that your match tomorrow is against me.”

That stops you in your tracks and you look up at him. “For real?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Damn right. There’s a hell of a lot of ways for me to get my hands on you during a match. Think I’m letting anyone else get there first, then you got another think comin’, boy - so move it.”

You grin up at him nod. “You haven’t seen my high flying yet… I can already think of one novel way of getting my legs around you…”

“It’s cute how you talk like we’re on a level playing field.” He steals one last kiss before you get too close to the curtain to risk it, adding in a quick bite to your neck that nearly makes your legs give out and then you follow him through, never more intent on getting out of your gear…

END.

#the undertaker #undertaker #this character lives in my head rent free #wwe #wwf #taker smut #fanfic #thumbs up for the anons #anon asks #fussy goth baby #wwf fanfic #wwe fanfic #TTT Tumblr Asks

[unovanhunny]

Lol well /now/ you've got me thinking of sbh au ingo maybe delving into the catnip a bit /too/ much since it makes it easier for him to be affectionate with Emmet vs when hes sober. Catnip isn't a /dangerous/ substance on its own, but too much of anything can make you sick, which causes a great deal of concern for Emmet.

Emmet wasn't a narc. He wasn't entirely straight edge either. He wasn't often a user of recreational drugs, but he wasn't entirely opposed to it either. And sometimes he worried. About Ingo and how he seemed to be using catnip more and more frequently. Discovering that it could be made into a tea was probably the Worst thing.

Ingo was responsible enough to not do anything on days they worked. He needed his mind and reflexes sharp, in case of anything. For that, Emmet was grateful. But on stretches of time they had off, Ingo seemed to have been drinking more 'tea' than usual. The effects weren't bad, Ingo got clingy and needy and Emmet found him absolutely adorable and more than willing to happily give him any and all attention and affection he desired. Honestly, he didn't mind that part in the least. If he had that every day, he would be happy. But it likely wasn't great for Ingo to have it in his system all the time.

They were going to have a down week and Emmet knew it would be best to get out in front of this before Ingo became too wrapped up in his desire for being close. "Ingo. Can we talk about something?"

Ears perked in interest, Ingo's head tilted slightly to one side. "Of course! What is it? Is something bothering you?"

"It is about your use of catnip. It has been excessive and I am worried for your wellbeing."

"Ah. Has it really been that excessive? I assure you, I'm being careful, it's nothing to worry about."

"I will always worry about you. Is there a reason you have increased how much you've been taking?" Emmet's brow wrinkled a bit in concern. He was eventually met with a sigh and a warm hand cupping his cheek.

"Emmet... truth be told, there is. It is not a Bad reason. Though you may think me silly for it. But it's much easier to act more on my thoughts and feelings. You know how I have always been so guarded. It's hard to let down the barriers fully after so many years, even if I love and trust you more than anyone else I have ever met in my life. And you deserve to be loved, wholly and fully. Which is not something I think I can do on my own at this time. The use of catnip allows me to bypass those defense mechanisms that are only a hindrance between us. And I can express my feelings for you with every fiber of my being. Which is exactly what you deserve."

Emmet was quiet as he processed Ingo's reasoning. And after a long moment of silence, which only caused Ingo distress and made him nervous, Emmet let out a quiet chuckle.

"Ingo, you know that I love you right?"

"Of course I do..." Ingo pressed his forehead against Emmet's and for a moment they were just silent and enjoying the touch, the closeness.

"...Then listen. I do not care at what pace you open up to me. I have been patient so far and I have been fine. Knowing that you think so highly of me and that I am so important to you makes me happy."

"You are the most important. I just wish to do right by you."

"And you are, even without catnip! I love you at whatever level of affection you can achieve. I think I will much prefer to have you be as cuddly as you are on catnip when you are ready to do so. Even if that takes time. In the meantime, I can match that level of enthusiasm myself easily! I will make up for that current gap and drag you into cuddles whenever we are alone. Is that okay?"

With a deep sigh of consideration, Ingo nodded. "Perhaps I have been a bit nip-happy as of late. I can slow down on it."

"I would appreciate that. You do not have to stop entirely, just do it less. You are verrrrry cute when you are on catnip so I would not want to lose it entirely."

This time Ingo laughed. "Fine, we have a deal."

And he finalized it with a kiss.

#blankshipping #ingo #emmet #space bounty hunter au #my writing #this boy needs to watch his nip intake (the catnip variety)

[smokeys-house]

Heya! You mentioned in a recent post that weaponry is a special interest of yours (apologies if I remembered it wrong) Any chance you're free to talk about it a little more? /nf, it seemed really interesting! :D (if you'd like a topic to go off of, I do like swords, but anything is nice! /gen) Feel free to just leave this ask, I'm not too familiar with if this is crossing a boundary :> /gen /nm

Howdy! Weaponry is a special interest of mine yeah! Has been just about all my life ^^ if you're interested in swords in particular, one of the more interesting topics when it comes to European swords is halfswording! I'll put it under the read more.

A common misconception I've seen is the longswords, arming swords, or just any European sword from the medieval period had blunt edges. This has also bred the myth of "sword sharp", the implication being that swords of all kinds excluding Japanese swords were only "sharp enough".

As far as I'm aware these myths and misconceptions come from a few places, and have all sorta bled together to create the idea that Japanese swords are incredible sharp laser swords, European swords are blunt clobbering tools and everything else is only kind of sharp. This idea is inherently silly. I believe it primarily comes from movies, TV, and games, but folks who are just learning about swords see things like the pic above where you can see half swording and a technique called "the murder stroke", as well as an armored opponent vs an unarmored opponent and they start to think maybe there's some credence to the idea that they were blunt.

Fact of the matter is, no, they were not blunt. Full stop. They were designed to cut and do so quite well, and while sharpness may have varied, evidence suggests they were often very sharp. There were swords in history that were blunt, but those are rarer than you'd think. Certain specialized types of rapier, sidesword, and smallsword had triangular or square cross sections and could not cut. That being said, each of those types of swords typically could cut and had a more standard cross section.

Back to the main point and the picture, you may think "how and why would you grab a sword blade especially during a fight? Wouldn't you cut your hands?"

The how is fairly simple. You can hold onto a sharp edge without getting cut provided the blade isn't being pushed or pulled too much. Swords aren't lasers and do require a physical action to cut. Holding onto the sharp bit won't cut off your hands. There's also a specific grip you can employ to squeeze the flats of the blade in order to avoid holding the edges. It's not comfortable by any means, and is much easier with gloves, but it's very much doable and fairly easy. I've personally tried it and not had any issues.

The why is a bit less simple. The guy in the armor is halfswording to gain more point control, for more precise and powerful thrusting. Giving yourself another point of contact effectively turns the sword into a mini polearm for some purposes, and an excellent grappling tool for others. Grappling or wrestling is a necessary tool for fighting armored opponents, and if you're armored and know your opponent might grapple, it would be valuable to know halfswording.

The guy on the right is using a half swording technique known as the murder stroke. I can't remember which manuscript it's in off the top of my head so I'll come back and edit this part here with the name. Edit: it was either lichtenauer or one of the other german masters post-lichtenauer! In German the technique is mordhau, mordschlag, or mordstreich! Your options for fighting armored opponents when you have a sword are fairly limited. You can either attempt to thrust at the common gap points in the armor, go for grappling and use a dagger for the same purpose but at closer range, or go for concussive force. When using the murder stroke, you're using the guard and pommel as a striking tool kind of like a hammer or mace.

To those unaware you have to keep in mind swords were back up weapons. They were equivalent to the pistol today. It stays on your hip while you use your bigger stuff. The context of a duel changes that depending on circumstance, but on the battlefield if you're down to just your sword you're already in trouble in most contexts.

So is it safe? No. I don't recommend trying this unless you know what you're doing or your life depends on it. But that's an important caveat, if you're in a situation where its a viable technique, your life is worth far more than a few cuts on your hands. If you're doing it right, you'd likely only receive a minor cut or two on your palms.

Is it historical? As far as I'm aware yes! It's in some manuscripts and iirc there are some written accounts of duels involving half swording, I could be mistaken though. Duels brought about all sorts of weird stuff whether it was useful or not. Another thing to note is that the people who wrote manuscripts for fighting were also trying to sell their manuscripts and teachings. They tried to keep it interesting. There's some goofy stuff in some of these manuscripts!

I hope that was interesting! Feel free to ask more questions in the future if you like, I'll be happy to answer them best as I can! ❤️

#smokey answers #smokey's armory

[tumblingxelian]

Why I don't care about the Blood Elves?

Petty Reasons: I think the name sounds silly, Sindorei sounds great but 90% of the time people use Blood Elf and it just sound so forcibly edgy and awkward to me; High Elves isn't great but its got a lot of meta weight to it that carries it very the finishing line just barely, Blood Elves just sounds awkward. I hated their design and aesthetic in Frozen Throne compared to Reign of Chaos, sleek, sharp magical Barrack's replaced by the boring, squat human one's the cute, weirdly curved farms replaced by boring box farms? Laaaame. Plus red and gold just doesn't vibe with me as much as blue and gold/white. The Real Reason: OK, so here's the thing, the Blood Elves are fantastic in concept. A willfully isolated proud people at the top of the world laid low by horror and tragedy, discovering the former source of their resplendent lives has left them with a crippling weakness now that it is absent for they grew dependent on its power. Desperate and with few options they turn to desperate and questionable means to survive, binding demons, draining magical energy/life energy from others to bolster their strength and fight off the pangs of pain and loss, giving them new strength but at a great personal cost, like forming a compact with a demon, this is truly a double edged sword/devils bargain. But in execution... It doesn't amount to much. Sure early on they have Mu'Ru which is interesting and fucked up and creates tons of interesting potential avenues for problems to develop but that's about it really. Beyond the almost joke scene of two people being publicly mind controlled which is never followed up on that's it. Their eyes change color and they dress in red now, OK. Like, this isn't to harp on aesthetics specifically, but if they had started to resemble stuff like the Felblood elf, Wretched or Felborn, (heck maybe even Satyr a little?) or something more vampiric then it might at least feel like this act has meaning and weight to it. If the implications of their increasingly authoritarian society and its methods of control were given a real look in then I might have an actual interest in exploring that society. Like, for reference, I quite like the Sindorei in Travelogue cos that stuff does get explored and it makes the trip into Silvermoon and through Eversong fascinating, but even then only so much can be done with it. I get the potential of 'something rotten behind a pretty face' but given Burning Crusade caps off with redemption and the Light, gods the Light again, somehow fixing all those problems... What is there to them now? The High Elves honestly feel like they have a more dynamic story going on because they resisted the seemingly easy way out, were exiled from or refused to return home because they took a moral stance against their kinds methodology and thus are adrift and scattered across the world trying to hold true to who they feel they should be and should have always been. Plus the potential fun of outside looking in on the shifts in their homeland. But yeah as it is, that's why I don't care for the Blood Elves, I think the premise was interesting but the execution never really went anywhere and what few interesting points it did have were cancelled out within one expansion, which is about the amount of time it took for me to stop playing my Blood Elf.

#WOW #Warcraft #World of Warcraft #My work #Meta #Rambling #rant

[miracletitta]

Wuthred the unliving voice actor

#WUTHRED THE UNLIVING VOICE ACTOR CRACK#

Pertinacity: He has reached almost every goal in his life there's so little to do now but even so, he is a very persistent individual who does put a lot of effort into reach said achievements when the time calls for it Stability: His emotions are sassy and stable UwU Too fabulous to be out of control Momentum: He can run after you inhumanly fast in those high heels of his : Dĭurability: He can withstand and endure great deals of damage. Perception: His hearing is very sharp, i mean he does have long ears for a reason Mentality: Ash is one of the smartest supernatural magical entities throughout umbra and that should say a lot on its own.įaculty: His cat like eyes sees all most of the time, even with the edge of it. Just a warning up ahead, he will talk shit about you because he can.Įnemies: Those who try to start shit against him or try to stop him from doing his daily works He is also known for ignoring the fuck out of people he dislikes or just aren't his type. He the witty, cunning, overconfident and intelligent fighter who knows exactly what to do, to corner you where he wants you to be. However, you will be amazed with knowing he doesn't get furious or angry, at least not right away. So, the world from the outside tends to view him negatively and in most cases avoid him to not feel his fiery personality. He specially hates it when the person asks silly questions or does stupid actions. He likes to name call people he deems unworthy, problematic or stupid in nature. Ash is vastly known for, for his very.aggressive, assertive and blunt personality. He analyses people around him because he wants to make sense of them or come down to a common ground but you will be surprised once I tell you this is not the things he is vastly known for. He doesn't like illogical individuals, he will call you out on it without giving a damn and sometimes he might straight up insult you for it too. He has VERY FEW close people to him and that's all he feels he should possess. He is not one for close relationships specially those of ''friendship'' types.

#WUTHRED THE UNLIVING VOICE ACTOR CRACK#

More often than not, he might crack up take in some jokes, interact with fellow comrades or outsiders but even so, he will keep a considerable amount of distance. His view of life is so eccentric and weird in nature. Heck, not even the best events in history tend to surprise him. Nothing really moves him or impresses him at times. There is never a time this fashionable, exotic and flamboyant foe feels fear. Type of Personality: Ash, oh Ash, Ash is a pretty interesting guy. Occupation/s: King Of Witchesires (Retired/formerly), Elder (Current), Warlock (Active), Angel/Demon Hunter (Hobby), 4th moonkeeper, Pedicider (Hobby)

#Wuthred the unliving voice actor

[becca-e-barnes]

I'm completely smitten with your work, particularly subby steve and bucky 🤤

I just loooooove the thought of those huge men being so soft and subby because they feel so safe with you 🥺

And the thought of them being really subby together but you’re not home and they just need to take the edge off. So when you walk in the door, you can hear the creaking of the bed and the tiny pants and sobs of your two horny men, desperate for their mommy and trying to relieve their own need without you.

When you get to the bedroom door, you’re a little surprised to find them both still fully clothed, tangled up together on the bed. They’re making out so passionately they haven’t even realised you’re watching, barely leaving time for the little whimpers of “f-fuck” and “oooh” and “please” in between kisses. The bulges in their sweatpants are rubbing together and they’re frantically trying to get just a little more friction on their aching cocks.

But when you clear your throat, they let go of each other so quickly. They both have the same expression on their faces, a little horrified they got caught but still painfully needy.

“Were my good boys being slutty without me? Because we all know good boys don’t start to play until they’re told. You didn’t have permission, did you?” You ask softly, a calm authority in your tone that makes Bucky shiver.

“N-no. I’m sorry mommy. Let us make it up to you, we’re both so sorry.” Steve begins, stopping when the palm of your hand connects with his cheek. It’s just enough to sting but the moan both he and Bucky lets out is breathtaking. Steve’s hand rushes straight to his throbbing cock, gripping it through his sweats and giving it a few sharp tugs before the sting of the slap wears off, clearly getting off on the light pain.

“I don’t think you are sorry, Stevie. I don’t think either of you are. I think you need a firm hand tonight. Need to be reminded you’re both pathetic little bitches. Maybe daddy’s biggest strap will be enough to remind you both who your slutty little asses belong to.” Your suggestion has Bucky’s eyes rolling back in his head and Steve trying desperately to stay calm.

“Please fuck me, daddy. ‘M so hard. Stevie got me s-so hard. I need to cum daddy, it hurts.” Bucky whines, watching you with those big soft eyes of his, moaning when you lean forward and shush him.

“You’re cumming last baby boy. You’re gonna watch daddy spread Stevie open and fuck him silly and you’re not gonna touch your dick. You got that? Then I’m gonna fuck you just as mindless as I’m gonna fuck Stevie.” That suggestion leaves Bucky’s mouth gaping, almost drooling because that’s the worst kind of torture to him. He doesn’t do well with being denied so you know it’ll make for an interesting night.

#asks answered <3 #anon #becca writes spice #sub!stucky #stucky x reader #stucky x reader smut #big love for subby!stucky #it’s not something I write often #but I do love thinking about it #it’s a really fun dynamic

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons.  Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie. 

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.  

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Planting a sneaker clad foot on his ass, you shove. Hard.  

“Bucky, we talked about this. Remember how you agreed to lower the drama and keep things in perspective? I thought we were under attack.”

“If I don’t get a green gum-ball,” he declares dramatically, “there will be an attack.”

Throwing the cloth bags at his face, you stomp off to retrieve a shopping cart, plunking your purse in the front and hunching over the handlebars.  

“I thought you said you were a millionaire now. Buy your own gum-ball.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Like I carry loose change,” he scoffs. “C’mon, just one quarter. Please?”

This time, he gives you the Look. That patented Bucky Barnes stare, with the wide eyes and full pouty lips and faux innocent expression, and if this man wasn’t the love of your life you’d quite happily stab him in the heart.

Instead, you open your purse and fish out a quarter, flinging it at his frustratingly pretty face. It bounces off his forehead and he scoops it up with a grin.

“So just to clarify. You came to the grocery store covered in knives, but you forgot to bring money?”

Giving you an indulgent smile, he jams the quarter into the slot. With a twist and shake, a gum-ball rattles free, and Bucky crows with delight when he sees the green candy. He pops it in his mouth. 

“I didn’t forget. I made a conscious decision to remove the temptation. If I bring cash, I’ll spend it. You know I ain’t great with that whole self control thing.”

“How encouraging to hear, from the man with knives pouring out his ass.”  

Jumping to his feet, he throws an arm around your shoulders. 

“Ass knives sound painful.”

“Depends on how sharp they are,” you mumble, pulling a carefully folded sheet of paper from your jacket.

“Excuse you? My knives are always perfectly sharpened, thank you very much. What kind of expert assassin runs around with dull knives? Damn baby, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Ignoring him, you flatten out the paper and smooth the edges, sighing happily at the block letters and structured diagrams drawn in deep blue ink. 

Here it is, your masterpiece. A monument to productivity. The gold standard by which all optimization models should be benchmarked. This isn’t just any list, this is The List.

Everything is grouped, first by aisle, then by product location within the aisle, and then from top to bottom shelf order, to maximize efficiency. This is the dream list. The kind that inspires jealousy. The kind people hold up at TED talks when they talk about time management techniques. Marie Kondo wishes she had this list. 

Bucky snorts when he sees the carefully printed boxes.  

“God, you’re such a square,” he says adoringly. He plants a sugary wet kiss on your temple and you grind an elbow into his ribs.

“We discussed this, Bucky. Don’t mock my lists.” 

“Sorry babe, I ain’t mocking. Your lists are beautiful, they always get me all hot and bothered,” he agrees, dipping lower to lick behind your ear. “And I really love that list you keep with all those dirty, filthy, sex things you wanna do to me.”

“I don’t have a list like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs, “and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop here.”

Reaching under his shirt, you rub his belly consolingly. “Okay then. This weekend I’ll sit down and make you a special list. One so disgusting and dirty and depraved, it would make Wade Wilson cry.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes you tighter. 

“About damn time honey. I’m equally parts terrified and horny. So where’re we headed first?”

“Produce,” you answer promptly, plowing forward, Bucky still chuckling beside you.

The whole scenario was ironic, actually. There was no need to grocery shop - automatic ordering mechanisms  across the Avengers tower rendered the task meaningless - but sometimes it was a welcome relief to partake in such an ordinary thing. Unable to sleep after one particularly terrible mission, you found yourself wandering the aisles of your 24-hour supermarket, dressed in pineapple adorned pajama pants and one of Bucky’s rattier sweatshirts, searching for ice cream. The unexpected symmetry of products arranged along the shelves, the rainbow hued produce, the hint of baking bread wafting from the ovens, all those everyday trappings of normality, they washed over like a soothing balm. Soon enough, the boiling bad thoughts simmered to nothing more than a cache of blurry memories.

When you got home, sleep came fast, deep and dreamless.

One month later, the idea struck again.

After 36 hours of Bucky tossing and turning, dark shadows bruising beneath weary blue eyes, you took his hand and led him down the dark street for a midnight adventure. He was skeptical, disbelieving that something so simple could chase away the insomnia. But he dutifully followed you, strolling aimlessly through the aisles, throwing odds and ends into the cart. 

The tension gradually eased, he began to relax, and suddenly? 

He was hooked.

An hour later, after arguing the health benefits of frosted Cheerios over oatmeal, poking each hunk of cheese in the display, and loading the cart with every single flavor of spaghetti sauce on the shelf, the heavy weight of remembering began to ease. When he collapsed into bed, he slept for eight hours straight.

I don’t know what that was, he swore the next morning, munching through his third bowl of frosted Cheerios, but it was magic.

And with that, a midnight ritual was born. Sometimes you make the trek alone, sometimes Bucky does the same, but whenever life permits you go together. This small slice of domesticity brings a warm comfort to this strange life.   

There is no doubt, this is your favorite area of the entire store.

Barrels filled with tart oranges and smooth red apples. Tables piled high with bananas, some just shy of yellow, others sunshine perfect, and a few with speckles of black (which are the best). Shelves lining the walls, overflowing with bundles of herbs and lettuce, all coated in a fine layer of mist. 

Bliss. 

Heading straight for the apples, you plunge into the Gala pile, rummaging until you come up with ten perfect ones. Peaches follow, fingers rubbing along the delicate pinky-orange fuzz. Squeeze, smell, squeeze, smell. Five are chosen for a pie (Sam pleaded shamelessly until you agreed to make him one), and in the cart they go. Heading toward the wall of herbs, you’re reaching for the basil when a metallic bang makes you jump. Spinning around, you find Bucky lobbing coconuts into the cart.

“We need these.”

“We really don’t, Buck. I hate coconut, it tastes like suntan lotion.”

“They’re not for eating,” he grabs an apple, wipes it on his shirt, and takes a juicy bite. “They’re for security.”

Sticky juice drips from his lip, catching in his beard. When you reach over to swipe it away, he nips your finger with a grin.

“Explain please.”

“See it’s like this. We’re just here shopping, doin’ our thang -”

“Don’t say thang.”

“- when someone attacks. What happens? BAM. One of these furry beauties breaks their face. Problem solved.”

Giving him a slow perusal, you raise an eyebrow.

“Were the 47 knives you’re carrying not enough to deflect this attack?”

Finishing off the apple in three sloppy bites, he carefully tucks the price sticker in his pocket so he can scan it before leaving and sets the mangled core beside your purse.

“Babe, these are my back-up plan. A good soldier always has a back-up plan.”

While you grab a bottle of extra-pulpy orange juice, Bucky picks two jugs of chocolate milk, snaps one open and takes a swing. Ever the thrifty shopper, he pulls a familiar bag from his back pocket, fishes out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and dangles it before you.

“Found a coupon for this,” he says gleefully. “Buy one, get one free. It’s called a BOGO. A BOGO. Hilarious, right? Fuck me, I love the future.”

Still laughing, he takes another long drink of chocolate milk and smacks his lips.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you discovered this particular habit. Walking into the living room, you found Bucky buried in a sea of Sunday newspaper, tongue between his teeth and scissors in hand while he clipped coupons. He wasn’t picky, if it was remotely interesting, it went into the YES pile. It was one of those random things that brought him inordinate levels of joy, so of course you encouraged it. On his last birthday, you gifted him with a green zippered bag decorated with angry looking owls and official looking letters stitched across the front:

Bucky’s Coupon Bag  Thriftn’ Machine Since 1917

He laughed for five straight minutes and then stuffed it full. The bag accompanies you on every trip and the sight of Bucky excitedly rifling through his wad of coupons still makes your heart swell.  

Setting aside his BOGO, Bucky continues down the aisle, leaving you to pause in front of the yogurt. While you contemplate the merits of blackberry vs strawberry, Bucky slides over holding three cans of Reddi-Whip. 

“Are you actually planning to eat that? I thought you said whipped air is for, and I quote, ‘spineless, tasteless trash heathens’?”

Bucky shakes the can of spray whipped cream and wiggles his eyebrows, leveling you with a sultry stare. 

“Hell no I’m not eating it. This is for the bedroom. Last week I watched this god-awful movie where some blond guy - who looked exactly like Steve, by the way - made himself a whipped cream bikini for his girl. Decided I’m gonna do that for you. You’re welcome.”

“That sounds gross and unsanitary.” 

“If by gross and unsanitary you mean spicy and sexy, then yes. Yes it does.”

Whistling what sounds like the theme music from a bad porn, he adds two tubs of honey swirled Greek yogurt, pats your butt, and strolls ahead, throwing a roughish wink over his shoulder. Imagining the melted whipped cream soaking into your bedsheets, you mentally add more laundry detergent to the list.

“Hang on, turn here.”

Tugging the cart behind him, Bucky stalks toward the feminine hygiene display. It takes him a minute to scan the products before squatting down to the bottom shelf. Grabbing two jumbo boxes of tampons, oddly enough the brand you prefer, he pops back to his feet.  

“Dare I ask why you need these?”

A faint pink flush crawls up his neck.  

“Well, you know, two reasons. They’re really great for stopping bloody noses, you know? Just poke ‘em up there and they soak it all up.”

 He mimes the execution and adds a thumbs up.

“And the second reason?”

Squinting at his boots, he shuffles his feet a bit. The pink flush deepens. 

“Um, you know - I know you’re out, since I stuck the last one up Steve’s nose last week, and yeah. Anyway. It’s about that time. Of the month. For you.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches for his chocolate milk, but you grab his wrist.  

“You know when my period’s going to start?”

He shrugs self-consciously and fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.  

“Well yeah. You think it’s just a coincidence when all your favorite candy shows up every month?” Looking up, he shoots you a crooked smile and leans over the cart to kiss your forehead. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you haul him in for a real kiss instead and his startled laughter tickles your lips. When you break away, those bright blue eyes are shining. 

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmur.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers. 

This is the aisle where the cart officially explodes.

Lasagna noodles.

Egg noodles.

Spaghetti noodles.

Penne.

Linguine. 

Fettuccine.

Literally one of every noodle is selected, because Bucky Barnes is a self-proclaimed noodle slut. 

As you organize the boxes and search for orzo, you see him furtively add an extra bag of elbow macaroni. A quiet cough hides your laughter.

The last time Sam’s four-year-old niece came to the tower, she and Bucky spent hours making glittery elbow macaroni necklaces, which they ceremoniously gifted to everyone. When Sam casually mentioned her enthusiastically telling everyone at pre-school about her friend Bucky and how much fun she had visiting him, Bucky ran to a craft store and bulk bought supplies of glue, string, paint, and glitter, just in case she comes over again.

Months later and the entire team are still finding puddles of glitter all over the tower, but the delight on Bucky’s face anytime someone mentions that arts and crafts afternoon? 

It’s worth the mess.     

Gathering up brown sugar, instant oats, and chocolate chips, you turn to drop them in the cart when Bucky makes a strangled noise. Glancing over, you find him bouncing on his toes, vibrating with excitement.

“Babe. Babe. Are you making monster cookies?”

Adding a can of raisins, you search for the good vanilla. The kind that actually tastes like vanilla, not a cheap car wash air freshener. 

“I promised I would,” you remind him. Bucky plasters himself against your back, wrapping you in an enthusiastic hug and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love those fucking cookies,” he declares. “They’re my favorite thing ever. Next to you I mean.”

Finding the vanilla, you spin in his arms and return the squeeze.  

“I know you do. But you have to share them this time, okay? You can’t just eat them all yourself like the last two times. Agree?”

“Agree…to disagree. They’re wasted on other people, no one else loves as much. It’s for the best when I eat them all, it’s proof how much I love you. I’m doing it for you. I’m supporting you. Because I love you.”

“You’re completely full of shit,” you reply.

“I swear I’m not! Just listen!”

The excuses grow longer and wilder as Bucky outlines his rationale against sharing, walking backward and dragging the cart with him as he pleads his case. He’s diving into the science of super soldier metabolism levels and caloric requirements and the fact that his sister never shared anything with him, when he bumps into a tall display. 

He pulls up short, eyes narrowing. Plunking his fists on his hips, he growls a disgruntled sigh and glares at the rows of packaging. 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Lined up in neat rows, you see boxes of Jell-O organized by color and flavor. On the cover of each are an assortment of familiar images.  

“Are these Avengers themed Jell-O?” you ask, picking up a box with Sam’s image and the words Wild Berry Wilson. The rows extend further, filled with Lime Green Hulk and Blue Raspberry Rogers and Black Cherry Widow and Strawberry Lemon Stark. Exasperated, Bucky grabs the Sparkling Orange Spider flavor. 

“Is this for real? The kid gets one and I didn’t? Someone in PR is getting fired.”

“Well there’re only so many flavors, Buck,” you point out practically, but Bucky’s not in the mood for logic. Instead, he swipes an entire shelf of Jell-O flavors into the cart.  

“I swear to god, I have to do everything around here. Fine then. I’ll make my own flavor, Blackberry Kiwi Soldier or Winter Watermelon Rainbow, or something.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ll work on the name. But I’m bringing it to dinner tomorrow night and everyone is gonna eat it.”

He dumps in a bag of mini-marshmallows and grabs sprinkles for topping, before marching down the aisle. Cringing at the volume of sugar in the cart, you make another mental note to schedule a dentist appointment.

“Go do your manly duty and find the meat. We need two 5lb rump roasts.”

“I like your rump roast,” he instantly responds and reaches over to smack your butt again. Anticipating the move, you catch his arm and twist it behind his back. He barks out a breathless laugh and you slap his ass in return.

“Your innuendos are tragic.”

Releasing him with a gentle shove, Bucky snatches up his three coconuts and ambles away, laughing while he juggles them. When he returns, he has the requested rump roasts, several packages of bacon, and a bundle of cocktail shrimp.

“If my innuendos get better, then can I touch your butt?”

“Maybe. But they better be real good.”

An added benefit to shopping at midnight? Not a soul in line.

Loading everything onto the conveyer belt, you automatically organize for bagging. Boxes together, produce together, meat together. Bucky adds a pack of batteries, a tin of mints, and some trashy magazines.

The last three items in the cart are his coconuts. They rattle around until you toss them at him, motioning back to the produce department. 

“We made it out alive. Go put them back.”

Still chomping his tasteless green gum-ball, he shakes his head and plops them down. 

“Nah, I have another idea for them. Got all those craft supplies at home, I’m gonna make you something.”

“Should I even ask?”

Bucky blows a huge, wet bubble and looks you up and down.

“Have you every worn one of those coconut bras? Like on TV, with the ladies in grass skirts? I’m gonna make you one. I already have string and glue. And glitter.”

“I think you may be overestimating your crafting abilities.” Digging out your credit card, you wait for the final tally. 

“Well, if it’s terrible then you’ll just be naked. Either way, I win.”

Shaking out your grocery sacks, he packs everything with Tetris-like efficiency and slides all of them up the vibranium arm.   

“How about I make you a deal. I’ll wear a coconut bra, if you’ll make yourself something to wear as well.”

Bucky blows another sugary bubble, pondering the idea.

“Like a coconut man thong?”

“Exactly like a coconut man thong.”

“Deal. Add it to that special dirty list you’re making me honey. We got loads to do.” 

Outside, the night air smells sweet and cool, the barest hint of a spring rain and fresh grass lingering on the breeze. Already, your eyes are feeling heavy, tonight’s quiet adventure ushering in that sought after peace. 

In your right hand, the three coconuts swing gently in their plastic sack. Humming under his breath, Bucky yawns, reaching for your other hand. His warm, calloused palm squeezes tight, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin.

He turns to you with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

Midnight and coconuts.  

It always does the trick.

***

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine

[justasimplesinner]

This one is based on my current situation. Origins Eddie is interested in a coworker (most likely in the same department as him) but is too shy to say anything so they're just friends. However, his crush starts getting unwanted advances from another coworker. Nothing extreme but definitely bothersome and a little stressful for this crush. So how would Origins Eddie react? (Hopefully he finally admits his feelings lol)

currently on riddler brainrot and im sorry in advance for anyone subjected to all the bullshit im about to post today

Arkham Origins!Eddie being a massive simp hcs:

there wasn't many people in the GCPD that he truly got along with, even in his own department (although those guys were certainly more used to him and less phased by anything he said). when you came along to work there, it wasn't love at first sight, he didn't immediately take a liking to you, and the feeling was certainly mutual. he's kind of a dick. can be hella obnoxious and self-centered and if you'd just let him, he'd probably go on some egomaniac tangent, although he's not as far gone as he is in the later games so you can still kind of talk to him

i wouldn't say you two wanted to tear each other apart every time you saw one another, but you certainly had a very love/hate relationship at first. it took a long while for him to see you as something more than just a rookie and as much as you hated to admit it, you strived to prove him wrong. not so much as gaining his approval, just kicking his ass because he was being such a pain in yours. thankfully not all your coworkers were dicks, so you got a lot of reassurance whenever he verbally tore you down, but that didn't mean you gave up on proving him wrong

Ed would never admit it out loud, but he admired your determination. actually, there were quite a few things he admired about you. the passion, the drive for work, how you'd stay after hours just to make sure you had everything right, how you seemed to genuinely want to help those people out there. and your sharp tongue, too. especially your sharp tongue. it may have not seem like it, but he absolutely loved bantering with you. you were always so quick with the insults, having a rebuttal to everything he threw your way. and, as opposed to him, the thing with you was that you made sure not to go overboard with what you said and if you did, you weren't above admitting that it was a dick move and apologising

that's what really got you two a little closer in the first place. it was another amazing confrontation that had everyone else in your department on the edge of their seats to see who admits defeat first, when you took it a step too far. and you immediately knew that, right after the words came out of your mouth

"i'm going to fuck your dad and give him a child he actually loves"

silly, right? just a random insult, that's it. he was being a dick, he deserved it. and obviously you didn't truly mean it. but those words stung. hard. you've never seen him shut up so fast. for a second, you swore his face twisted in something akin to agony. just as soon as it appeared, it was gone, and he turned right back to his work. but he was silent. Ed would never willingly let you have the last word in. and yet, for the rest of the day, he was silent

maybe you shouldn't've, but you felt bad. you could see you struck a nerve, prodded at a topic way too sensitive for it all to still be called lighthearted banter. of course, at first, you were too stubborn to really apologize, but all it took was some shameful and regretful thoughts as you were driving home that day and you decided to just suck it up and apologize. fuck your pride, maybe you hated his guts but you didn't want him to hurt. besides, if he gave you the silent treatment like that, who would entertain you when you were bored at work?

you squeezed his coffee order out of one of your coworkers that usually went on the coffee shop trip, even bought him a stupid little peanut-chocolate bar in green wrapping as you arrived at your workplace at the asscrack of dawn like he always did. motherfucker always came in first when it comes to your department, and you wanted to catch him alone, without any prying eyes. when you came in, he didn't even greet you with something like "look who decided to be on time for once" which sucked since you hoped he'd be in a better mood that day

you didn't have a whole speech prepared, which you kind of regretted now that you were face to face with him, alone, and had to apologize truly from the bottom of your heart.

"i'm sorry for what i said yesterday. here. as compensation." quick, simple, and to the point. but that was never the way things go with Edward fucking Nashton. "this is your bargaining chip? you couldn't convince a five year old to sit still for one minute with this shit-" "listen here, you little shit, this is the only green candybar i could find in the store, so shut your green-loving mouth up and let me do my thing, arlight? i don't want to be dramatic right now, but i really am sorry. i didn't mean to actually say anything hurtful or prod at a sore spot or anything. it doesn't change anything right now, but if i had known, i wouldn't've said that. so just accept this very modest but very heartfelt bribe and stop giving me the silent treatment. i got a taste of what's it like yesterday, and i'm not about to endure it today, because your stupid little banter is genuinely the best part of my workday here and i'm not giving it up without a fight."

that seemed to do the trick, because with a few mutters about how crude and utterly untactful you were came the acceptance of you apology, even the admittance that you weren't the only one looking forward to those silly little fights you two indulged in. that was the first step. but, what was shocking to the rest of the department, you two didn't continue in baby steps. you broke off into a run

it escalated quick. with you breaking the ice between you two came the initially-reluctant, eventually-desired friendship. the banters still continued, but Edward wasn't as hard on you when it came to your work as he used to. suddenly, breaks were filled with genuine conversation over hot cups of coffee. Ed wasn't a regular person, talking about your day or the weather simply didn't satisfy him and he found it meaningless. instead, whenever you two talked, he'd breach the most random fucking subjects but you quickly got used to it. you were probably the only one who could put up with him for more than ten minutes (the weeks of insulting each other made you immune to his sarcastic quips) and that didn't bat an eye if he just started rambling about something completely out of nowhere

you became someone he intentionally seeked out, which is a big thing. he often told you otherwise just to fuck with you, but he liked talking to you. you were unphased by how quickly he could jump from one subject to another or for how long he could go on and on about something. you always listened. you offered your input. you were always up for a debate. and fuck yeah sometimes you were stubborn about something you didn't understand, but if he actually proved to you that you were wrong, you'd take the blow and move on. despite being a very persistent and loud-mouthed person, you never insisted on always being right or getting mad at him for knowing something you didn't. if you saw that you really were in the wrong, you accepted it and even inquired about more so you could educate yourself on the subject. sometimes he thought you were so knowledge-hungry because you wanted to be ready for any possible argument that might ensue between you and someone else and needed to be the expert so you could tear a bitch into the ground. and yeah, it was funny, but it was also, in a way, admirable

it was no surprise to anyone when your banter turned more flirtarious. after all, you two were practically attached at the hip at this point. the thing was, you didn't take it seriously. at first, he thought he didn't too, but boy was he wrong

and so, the pining started. all day every day, Edward was consumed by yearning. there was nothing he loved more than the two of you constantly trying to one-up each other and make the other blush and stutter uncontrollably, there was nothing he loved more than hanging out with you both at and outside work, nothing he loved more than just doing simple, menial stuff with you like playing videogames or getting lunch. on one hand he really wanted to tell you all this - you, the only person to ever give him so much positive attention and show him any form of genuine care for his well-being - but on the other... what if you didn't feel the same? i mean, you obviously didn't. you would've said something already, right? you were always so straightforward. did you see that he wanted more? were you just trying to let him down gently or were you oblivious? there was too many thoughts, too many doubts and unfortunately, those were the ones even your presence couldn't help him with

there's nothing worse for a man than to find out he has powerful competition, and Edward is no different in that particular aspect. of course, he's way better and he spends more time with you and you obviously think higher of him than of the other guy, but... do you smile so much around him too? when you two banter, you're always playful, but you never grin the way you grin with the officer that took a liking to you. you never take on that tone with him, the one that's toeing the line between incredibly condescending and abnormally sultry. was he being replaced, was his rightfully earned position as your best friend endangered?

there's a lot of doubts in his head, but also the sick need for rivalry, to destroy his competition. that man was interfering a little bit too much to Ed's liking and he make it a point to show it every time he comes into the Cybercrime department, every time he tags along in the breakroom, every time he gets close to you when Edward's already there. he has half the mind to just rope that motherfucker into some sketchy shit to get him out of his hair

he makes it a point to spend even more time with you to show the other dude who's the better one. you're suspicious but absolutely not complaining about all the sudden game nights or movie marathons or quick trips to the burger joint. you're not complaining about the way Ed trails behind you like a puppy everywhere you go and the way he has deep conversations with you more and more. you feel like what you two have is finally progressing, and your heart flutters every time you wake up at his place, your head on his shoulder or his in your lap after watching gameshow reruns all night. you feel your stomach absolutely exploding in butterflies at every domestic little thing happening between you two, even as simple as cooking breakfast or going out for a smoke

but there's tension rising between you two, something just waiting to be snapped. it's clear to everyone but you what's going on between your two "suitors" and how Ed's constantly on his toes. a few of your coworkers had half the mind to interfere and end this madness but they decided you two better solve all this out on your own

and you did. you did solve it out.

You were at his place again. At this point, you could say you slept over more than you didn't. Hell, you've already had your own drawer and shelf in the shower! It was as much your apartment as it was his. Not that you were complaining, of course. You could really see why some of your more nosey coworkers joked about you two already being married. I mean, c'mon, eating chinese take-out on his old couch, watching the Family Feud marathon up until midnight? It's like the definition of "Married Couple ActivitiesTM".

And this... this really was home for you. This stained couch, his sweatshirt hanging loosely from your frame, his constant talking about how some people were just plain-out stupid because how could they not know that? This is where you felt like you truly belonged. Cliche much, but it was true. It's like everything was in it's rightful spot, your back leaning on his side, your whole form being shaken with his movements as he got a little bit too emotional about a fucking gameshow, his smell surrounding you from every side, his arm wrapped around your collarbone to keep himself grounded. Everything was just right, and you felt happy. Content with how things were. Not quite perfect, but just enough.

Until your phone rang with a new message, disrupting the half-peace around you and startling you half to death. You were so used to having it on silent that when it suddenly beeped and vibrated against your stomach, you almost jumped out of your skin, nearly knocking your leftover food from your lap.

– Fuckin' hell. – you breathed out under your nose, holding up the take-out box to reach into the hoodie's pocket and retrieve the offending object. Ed gave no reaction, really, outside of automatically taking the food from you and putting it on the table, relaxing right back into the couch, his other arm still securely around you. God, why were his hands always so cold? And the bastard made it his mission to put them on your bare skin any chance he got. It was like having an icicle laying against your neck and shoulder.

You took a glance at your notifs to see who was interrupting this fine evening, when you felt a chuckle rippling out of your throat at seeing the contact ID. That man was absolutely insatiable. You're pretty sure he could compete with Edward on who's more persistent.

– And who's got you smiling like an idiot at your phone? – you could practically feel Ed's words crawling up your spine, you felt the vibrations travel through his body into yours. You didn't have to turn your head to know he was looking over your shoulder, this nosey fuck.

– It's just Rhodney. – you felt his muscles tense up, his head getting almost cheek to cheek with you to read the texts. You let him, not like there was anything to hide there.

– And what does he want that's so important he had to interrupt the show? – he muttered with an air of disdain, his breath whipping right past your cheek. You always found it funny how he reacted to anything even slightly related to Rhodney. Their hate for each other was clear, what with how they always seemed to hiss at one another like angry cats.

You leaned back into him a little more, crossing your legs over the armrests and forcing him to relax a little into the couch.

– Apparently a dinner tomorrow at seven. – you snorted, fingers hovering over your keyboard. Maybe if you paid more attention, you would've heard his breath hitch. – He's outdoing himself lately. At first, it was just a coffee date in some nook cafe. I've turned this into a little game - every time he asks me out, I make a ridiculous excuse as to why I can't go to see when will he finally get the hint. – you rambled on, clear amusement seeping into your voice as you spared a glance back at him. His eyes betrayed the little war going on in his head whether he should be disappointed or amused at your antics. You've never seen anyone with eyes so expressive as his. Looking into those baby blues could really make you believe eyes were the window to one's soul.

– Why not just tell him you don't want to so he pisses off? – was what he finally decided on. His voice was weirdly tense, like he was clenching his jaw or having trouble to even get the words out. It was completely out of character for him to have problems to say what's on his mind.

– It's more fun this way. – you decided to let it slide, instead opting to shrug off his inquiry and smirk under your nose as you looked back to your phone – What do you think I should tell him this time? Maybe... 'I need to watch my neighbours pet fish because he has separation anxiety'? – you chuckled, ready to type out your another incredible idea until you felt the arm on your collarbone tighten and his body shift under your back.

Suddenly, there was a hand holding the side of your head firmly.

– Maybe tell him this.

Before you had time to react, you could feel his mouth positively crashing against yours as he leaned over your form to gain better access. You could feel his heavy, trembling exhale hitting your face and his hand clenching in the fabric of the sweatshirt he gave you. But most importantly, you could feel his insistent, slightly chapped lips right against your own.

It took a while to register. Just that second too long to let doubts flood his brains at his impulsive decision, to make his fingers desperately squeeze tighter as he started to lean back, to probably spill his apologies, to drown in his self-loathing in humiliation but then your hands shot out to grab at his sweater and pull him right back in.

Fuck no, you've wanted this way too long for him to jut pull away. You've wanted to run your hands up his chest, to cup his face, to bite his lip and tangle your fingers in his hair, to-

He sat back gasping, having left you just as breathless, staring right into your eyes that still haven't fully gotten rid of the surprise you felt. None of you made a move to really pull back from each other, your fingers still tangled in his now-messy hair, his arms circling you safely, your breaths mingling with each other.

– Yeah, this one will get the point across. – you breathed out, still staring at him in bewilderment, wanting him to say something, anything about whatever the fuck just happened.

What you got instead was a slim but strong hand cupping the side of your neck and jaw, his nose brushing against yours as he whispered, right before frantically diving back in for seconds:

– It better.

#my writing #headcannons #fic #anonymous #edward nigma #edward nygma #riddler #the riddler #arkhamverse #batman arkham origins #fluff #some angst #the Yearning is Real #jesus h christ #i just fuckin #dove right into this one huh #hope thats okay #and that i didnt stray too far from the inital idea #this is my big comeback post bitches

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s half Demon, and they look AWFULLY familiar...

‘Kay guys, I got a different kind of stupid Headcanon to throw at you. Get ready!

Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Part 2.5 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Lessons 13-15 Part 3 Part 4

*ahem* picture if you will, it’s the day the exchange program is set to start. The student council (nix Mr. Kill All Humans, Weeb-supreme, and our Scummy Sweetheart) have assembled to welcome the new human student. All is going according to schedule, the portal opens up at eight am sharp, they hear the pitiful screams of the selected human who was not given a heads up about the whole thing, and the poor little human falls straight onto the marble floor.

There’s something a tad... off about this human don’t you think? After they’ve peeled their sorry ass off the floor they observed the assembled student council with an air of sophistication and self importance that no one expected. Their posture was perfect, their eyes sharp and calculating... they bared a striking resemblance to-

“Lucifer,” Diavolo looked to his right hand man, then back to the human. “The human kind of looks like you!”

And out popped four pitch black wings from the human’s back and two small horns out of the sides of their head, one horn was a bit bigger than the other. They even still had some of their down feathers! How cute!

((Content warning: Swearing (I have a potty mouth, forgive me), but that’s it.))

Luci-dad

So, the MC is Lucifer’s kid! Of course Mr. Prideypants immediately tries to recall exactly what little romp in the human world uh... spawned this half-human half-demon child of his. Good thing MC’s got the other parent on speed-dial.

“Please note, MC,” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose upon hearing Asmo take even more pictures of his newly discovered hellspawn. “I was not aware of your existence, if I was I’d-”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not upset.”

Lucifer blinked a few times in surprise. “P...pardon? You aren’t upset?”

“No, my parent told me that my father was a high ranking demon, and they bare no ill will against you. Though, I am looking forward to this whole... exchange program thing.”

Oh wow, that was easier than Lucifer thought. Damn. Well, he was a father... (let’s be real, he’s been parenting his brothers for thousands of years, and a good chunk of you sinners call him daddy)

MC is probably the most protected student at RAD, despite the fact that they have no visible security detail whatsoever. They didn’t want to be seen as... weak and pathetic.

Something about this human just... set the lesser demons on edge. Any talk of eating them was stamped out on the first day when they walked by. It’s like Lucifer himself was staring at them, daring the demons to try and bother the human. MC’s powerful presence kept them protected and feared.

...at least until dear uncle Asmo decided to do their hair one morning. All those ribbons may have looked adorable but they kind of ruined the intimidation factor.

MC loved to mess with the other students, keeping their lineage a secret for the first little while just made it so much funnier when the other demons tried to scramble out of MC’s way without looking like they were running from the ‘weak little human exchange student’.

Oh wow, what a sadist. Like father like child

Flying lessons are a must. Poor MC isn’t terribly good at controlling their wings, and their horns are still growing in so when they pop into their demon form the first thing they get is a sore skull. Ow... it sucks that Lucifer isn’t outwardly very sympathetic.

“Ow!” MC crashed face first into the grass in the backyard of the House of Lamentation. “Father! My wings are cramping! Can’t we practice this tomorrow?”

The sight of seeing his dear child crash face first into the ground had lost its hilarity after the first three times. Lucifer slowly lowered himself to the ground and crossed his arms as he stood over his incredibly grass-stained kid.

“MC, we’ve been ‘practicing this tomorrow’ for the past month. If you want to learn to fly you’re going to have to actually manage to stay in the air for more than three minutes.”

MC shot Lucifer a withering glare that only preteens were capable of, Lucifer matched it with his own much more sophisticated glare.

“You’ve been flying for over a thousand years! Don’t you have any tips that can actually help other than ‘don’t panic, you’ll look ridiculous’?”

Lucifer dragged a gloved hand down his face and looked around, the two were alone as far as he could see.

“MC,” Lucifer began. “When I was a young angel, I needed to learn how to fly with someone else.”

MC perked up. “Who?”

“Michael. The smug bastard picked up flying quicker than I did.”

“What’d you do?!”

Lucifer smiled at his child’s intense investment. “I practiced flying every day for five extra hours until I could do everything that Michael could do, just better.”

MC’s starry eyed interest died almost instantly upon hearing about the extra five hours of practice. “Humph, I bet I could outfly younger you and Michael with only two hours of practice a day.”

“Really now?”

“Yes! Watch!” MC shook off their wings and took off in a running start before shakily making it into the air. Their form was decent enough, and they weren’t shaking as much as the previous attempts. “SEE?!”

“Yes MC,” Lucifer smiled. “I can see.”

You know what else Lucifer could see? MC crashing right into a tree.

“Ouch...”

Okay... maybe they could halt practice a little early and order a treat from Madame Scream’s. A little sugar to refuel is needed when the end goal is crushing a mutual rival beneath their heels. Just some good old fashioned father/child bonding time!

MC has a smaller seat right next to Lucifer’s seat in the Assembly Hall. I will not compromise on this one.

For all your fluff needs, I give you: Lucifer teaching MC how to play the piano. He has a proud little smile on his face when his kid finally starts getting it. That’s all. Enjoy the image.

That one Uncle who gives you Alcohol at Family Gatherings (Mammon)

Yeah, when Mammon burst in late to the party and whining about everyone’s spamming him with texts to haul his scummy ass to the Assembly Hall, the last thing he expected was to see a mini-Lucifer.

“What the fuck am I lookin’ at?!”

The glare the two Lucifers gave the poor Avatar of Greed was enough to make him want to turn tail (uh, wing) and book it down the hall.

“Mammon, this is MC. They’re my child.”

“Hello.”

“...whaaaa..?” Mammon looked between the two, same glare, same intimidating aura, same annoyingly good posture.

Mammon scratched the back of his neck and looked over at his older brother. “Do I uh... still gotta babysit em’ if they’re not human?”

“The lake of Cocytus will melt the day I let you babysit without supervision.” Lucifer grumbled.

“I don’t need a babysitter!”

Despite Lucifer’s initial denial, Mammon and MC ended up spending a lot of time hanging out when Lucifer was busy with paperwork. Of course Mammon’s first thought was ‘how do I profit off this situation?’

MC is now Mammon’s designated babysitter after they caught him picking up their feathers that had fallen off with the intention of painting them white and claiming they were Lucifer’s from back in the Celestial Realm.

Mammon does end up spoiling MC a little. Just a smidge. They’re the kid of his totally not his favourite brother after all! How could he not? Whether or not these gifts are obtained legally or are legal at all is subject to scrutiny.

“Mammon, I can’t drink this!” MC placed the bottle of Demonus back on the counter of the kitchen.

“Why not? That’s a bottle of the good stuff! We gotta celebrate you gettin’ an A on that test somehow!”

“I’m underage! Incredibly underage. I’m not legally allowed to drink.”

Mammon wordlessly plopped a silly straw into the bottle. “...does that help?”

“No.” MC then inclined their head to the bottle. “And I don’t want to get hung from the ceiling, that bottle was in my father’s study yesterday, I’m above theft.”

“How old are you s’posed to be anyway? Never mind... uh...” Mammon wracked his brain for something else he could do for MC that didn’t cost anything (don’t judge him, the poor bastard was flat broke!). “I could... teach you to drive!”

“Driving?”

“Yeah! Drivin’ is awesome! We can take my car!”

The bills for the damages done to the car and the Devildom were mailed to Lucifer the next day, and MC and Mammon got to keep each other company as they hung from the ceiling. Ah well! At least MC wasn’t upside down!

Mammon wasn’t that good of a flight teacher either, he also crashed into a tree (the same tree MC crashed into, actually) when he was cheering for MC. They were finally able to do a loopdy loop! He was proud and distracted! Okay?! Lucifer! Stop smirkin’ at him! It’s not that funny!

At least the vantage point from the tree was decent and the branches didn’t scratch him up too badly. Oh hey... that person walking by was wearing a very nice watch... he’d be right back-

That Uncle That is Always Absent From Family Gatherings and When He is Present He Leaves Early (Levi)

He missed everything. That is not an exaggeration. He was in the middle of an online raid battle and couldn’t look at his phone! No Lucifer he can’t pause an online game! That’s not how it works!

Okay, the human exchange student is half demon? WOAH! THAT’S JUST LIKE THAT ONE ANIME- W A I T. THE LITTLE NORMIE IS LUCIFER’S KID?!

Okie doke, he was fully convinced that MC just had to be an anime protagonist.

They binged every series that Levi compared them to. Sure MC might have missed a few assignments because of late night anime binges, but they were too good for this school crap anyway, right?

Nope. Lucifer put a ban on the two watching anime until both their grades improved. Surviving that hell brought the two together.

“Ugh!”

The sound of a pencil case being haphazardly thrown across the room made Levi peek out of his bed-tub. If his figurines got knocked over so HELP HIM-

“This is stupid!!I shouldn’t have to catch up with this!” MC crossed their arms and gave their Demonology textbook their best disapproving glare.

Lucifer Lite (tm) was having a hell of a time trying to claw through their missed work, and Levi sympathized, he really did, it’s just... he was playing Animal Crossing-

Levi paused the game to placate his anime-buddy when their wings popped out and he feared for his rare merch’s safety.

“H-hey, MC? Do you need help?” Levi’s offer was met with a bone chilling glare that lived rent free in his nightmares ever since. He had pulled a Mammon and forgotten he was talking to Lucifer’s child. Lucifer’s allergy to help must have passed down to MC.

“No! I don’t! It’s just... dumb!” MC hissed, she turned and looked over at the fish tank. “Right Henry 2.0?”

Henry 2.0 did not respond.

“MC, you need to finish your homework or we can’t watch anything together,” Levi sighed, he had finished his work over an hour earlier. He had mastered the art of all night anime binges and managing to do most of his work in the fifteen minutes between the time he woke up and the time school was supposed to begin. “We haven’t even binged all of volume 4 of TSL yet!”

“Mmm...” MC grumbled. “Fine...”

MC picked up their pencil case and began continued their work. Levi breathed a sigh of relief and went back to Animal Crossing.

The tiny normie did in fact finish their work, only after they caved and asked Levi for help. Swore him to secrecy, they did... very intimidating, they were.

Just saying, he most definitely sent that one Keanu Reeves meme with big Keanu and little Keanu but with Lucifer and MC to the wrong group chat. Poor bastard.

Flying lessons? No. Levi hadn’t flown since his time in the Celestial Realm, he had no advice to give other than: “Flap your wings!”

“THAT’S WHAT I’M DOING YOU-”

MC didn’t get to finish that thought, they lost their balance and fell right into RAD’s fountain. Ah well, Levi had a head start on running for his life that he squandered by laughing at MC. RIP.

The Uncle/brother/whatever the fuck that Starts a Fight With Your Dad at the Family Reunion. (Satan)

Oh... another Lucifer? Eugh. Gross.

Satan gave the kid a wide berth when they first met. Everything the kid said or did ticked him off. “Tsk. Look at MC. Making an omelette. So annoying.” “Oh wow, MC vacuumed? Roll out the red carpet, we need to celebrate their existence!” “Look at them. Breathing. Disgusting.”

MC’s pride wouldn’t ever let them admit it but... they knew Satan didn’t like them, and it hurt their feelings.

“Shhhh,” Satan whispered into his backpack.

“Meow.” The backpack replied.

“I said shhhhh.”

The backpack did not reply after that, which was a good thing considering the little princet of the HOL was nearby.

“Satan?” They asked. “Who are you talking to?”

Satan coldly brushed past them as he made his way to his room. “No one you need to concern yourself with.”

When the little calico kitten was safe in his room, Satan quickly realized a mistake in his foolproof ‘sneak a cat into the house’ plan. He didn’t have any toys for the kitten, and he didn’t want his books getting scratched...

It was alright, he’d just rush out to the a store that sold cat things and rush back! Five minute trip tops!

Well when Satan got back the cat was no longer in the room. Oh dear. He discreetly tore apart the house looking for the poor little thing until he ended up finding it in the library, happily chasing around a loose feather being held up by MC.

“Oh, hello Satan.” MC chirped as the kitten batted it’s adorable little paws at the feather.

“My... my door was closed. Did you let the cat out?”

MC shrugged. “I heard meowing.”

Satan ran a hand through his hair and grumbled. Stupid smaller Lucifer. Stupid original Lucifer. Everyone sucked.

“Let me guess, you’re going to run to Lucifer and tell him all about the meowing and the rule breaking.”

MC shook their head and glared at Satan. “Of course not. I’ve already gotten way too attached to this little guy anyway. We’re co-parenting this kitten like mature adults.”

With some coaxing, Satan did sit down and play with the kitten, maybe MC wasn’t... so terrible.

The two watch Unsolved Mysteries together, that’s their show. “This guy did it.” “Satan, we’re two minutes into the episode-” “Trust me.”

Thirty minutes later.

“He did it.” “See MC, what’d I tell you?”

Lucifer did find out about the cat, but with enough pleading, MC and Satan managed to warm up the cold spot in Lucifer’s chest where his heart should have been. The cat’s name is Detective Toe Beans (or just Bean).

Satan can’t fly, he has a tail, but he did read up on wing anatomy and how flight actually works in demons, his advice would be good in theory, but it’s full of so much technical jargon that MC can’t understand it.

At least MC didn’t crash into something, they barrel rolled through one of the HOL’s windows. Good thing it was the window to their room. The broken arm still hurt like hell.

The Best Dressed Bitch Who Brings The Booze to The Reunion. (Asmo)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Lucifer’s kid was SO CUTE! A thousand pictures commemorating that adorable moment needed to be taken! Wait- Lucifer- GIVE BACK THE PHONE-

Asmo, surprise surprise, absolutely adores little MC! So cute! So small! He was just so excited to announce to all his Devilgram followers that Lucifer was finally a certified DILF.

That post disappeared five minutes after it was made but the damage had already been done.

Asmo made sure MC looked their best at all times, if they needed help talking to anyone? Asmo’s got their back!

Sure, maybe he’s a little pushy, but pushy’s a good thing sometimes, right?

“Asmodeus-”

“No, these shoes wouldn’t fit you...”

“Asmo-”

“No, not these ones either...”

“ASMODEUS.”

Asmo squeaked and jumped upwards, Geez Louise... little MC’s voice could sure be scary when they wanted it to be...

“I don’t need any fancy new shoes.” MC huffed, sitting up straighter in one of the chairs in Asmo’s room. “I thought this was supposed to be a sleepover.”

“Hmmm...” Asmo pouted. “Makeovers are an essential part of sleepovers... what’d you do with your human friends up in the human world that could possibly be better than a make-over?!”

MC began to list things off. “Ordered junk food, talked about people we hated, watched movies,”

“Greasy food is so bad for your skin...” Asmo cringed and shook his head violently. “But I’m totally down to watch a movie and bitch about people I hate!”

“Ah yes, human sleepovers, a tradition I never quite had the chance to enjoy.” Solomon said from Asmo’s bed. “Who are we bitching about?”

“Remind me what Solomon is doing here.” MC muttered as they sat down in front of Asmo’s TV.

“Because, I wanted to hang out with my two favourite humans.” Asmo cooed, reaching over and trying to pinch MC’s cheek, which they awkwardly dodged.

“Can we watch The Exorcist?” Solomon asked, propping his head up with his hands.

“Ew, no.” Asmo made a face at him. “That scene with the vomit? Hell NO.”

“Mm.” MC mumbled. Asmo turned to look at them.

“MC? Are you doing okay? You don’t look like you’re having any fun...”

“I’m fine.” MC grumbled.

Asmo pursed his lips, as much as it made his little narcissistic heart break, he nudged MC. “Why don’t you pick the movie, sweetie. I’m sure Solomon and I will like anything you pick!”

MC noticeably brightened. “Let’s watch Scream!”

The strangled noise that came from Asmo was... concerning, but to his credit, The Avatar of Lust held his tongue about his distaste for the movie, and the three slumber-party goers had quite the lovely time.

After the movie ended, MC went back to their room, sure it was a sleepover but their bed was right down the hall.

Good for Asmo and Solomon. Horny fuckers. We stan.

Asmo just claps and tries to cheer MC on when it comes to their flying lessons. (The idea that Asmo came up with to wear his cheerleader costume from the previous Halloween was immediately shot down by Lucifer)

“You’re doing wonderful, MC- WATCH OUT FOR THE POWER LINE!”

MC didn’t hit the power line, but Asmo’s scream of terror caused them to fall butt-first into a dumpster. Their injured tailbone served as a tragic memory of the incident.

Oh well, good thing Asmo had nice smelling soap to give that could mask dumpster-stink.

The Uncle that eats everything and tells you to eat your veggies while you angrily pick at your broccoli at the kid’s table. (Beel)

Lucifer... has a kid?! Beel choked on the cheetos he had snuck into the Assembly Hall when the kid’s wings popped out.

Oh wow, that’s nice :) maybe they can eat together. Belphie would probably like them.

Wait what is the gender neutral term for Niece or Nephew?

...Nibling? Uh... let’s not say that around Beel. We don’t need him to get hungrier and begin associating MC with nibbling on things.

The Underground Tomb incident probably went a little differently, but after all that nonsense, the two are closer than two peas in a pod!

Mmm... peas...

“Beel?” MC stepped into the Avatar of Gluttony’s room.

“Hi MC.” Beel was doing push-ups in the middle of the room, on the ground right beneath his head was a massive bowl of spaghetti that he bit into every time he completed a push-up. “Can you come stand on my back? I need the extra weight.”

“On your back?” MC padded closer. “Are you sure? It’s not going to hurt?”

“No, it’ll be okay.” Beel assured them. “Belphie and I did this all the time. Except Belphie is normally asleep.”

MC tentatively stepped onto Beel’s back. It was a balancing act to say the least, they eventually gave up on standing and ended up sitting cross legged between Beel’s shoulder blades.

“You did this with Belphegor?” MC asked.

“Yeah,” Beel sighed. “He was always too tired to exercise, but he’d let me bench press him sometimes...”

MC frowned and hugged their knees to their chest. Knowing full well that Beel’s twin wasn’t in the human world like Lucifer said was absolutely ripping them apart from the inside. Guilt felt just as rotten as their pride did when they were being belittled...

“Maybe you’ll see him again sometime soon.” MC whispered. “Maybe my father’ll come to his senses and let him come back down to the Devildom.”

Beel paused his push-ups for a brief moment, then nodded and went back to his eating exercising combo. “I hope so. He’ll like you, MC. I’m sure of it.”

MC nodded. “I... hope so.”

Beel’s a pretty decent flight teacher, but his wings are just so different from MC’s that it renders any tips he had next to useless.

“MC, maybe your wings aren’t flapping fast enough.”

“Beel, I appreciate the thought, but I’m not a hummingbird. Or a fly. I don’t need to flap my wings a million times a minute to stay afloat.”

Ah well, MC tried to take some of Beel’s advice, but their lower right wing cramped up and they ended up flying in circles until Beel was able to catch them. Ah well, better than the dumpster incident the previous week.

The Uncle That Passes Out in The Basement and You’re Not Allowed to Wake Him Up Even Though All Your Toys and Video Games Are Down There. He Also Picks a Fight With Your Dad’s New S/O Before He Passes Out. (Belphie)

Sitting in the attic was quite a drag, and this supposedly weak little human was quite the annoyance to try and call out to. It took a lot longer than expected, but when he heard little footsteps coming towards his prison, Belphegor nearly jumped with joy.

Oh... it... looked like Lucifer. Smelled like Lucifer. Stood like Lucifer. Quacked like Lucifer. Or... trilled..? Whatever sound a peacock made, this brat sounded an awful lot like Lucifer.

A... half-demon. Hmph. Belphie honestly thought Lucifer had actual standards. Not anymore, he guessed.

(Man I could fill a whole-ass fic with the Belphie betrayal thing, but for now let’s skip to post attic nonsense)

Okay so maybe MC wasn’t disgusting. They made a good nap buddy. It was cute when their wings came out when they were sleeping sometimes. Well... it was cute when they didn’t hit him in the face and make him wake up with his mouth full of feathers.

What Beel said had been true, Belphie made a good substitute when weights weren’t available, but Beel didn’t want MC to feel left out, so Belphie and MC ended up sitting on his back while he did push ups. MC once got bored and started playing Go Fish with Belphie on Beel’s back while he exercised.

Yes. MC is still a member of the Formerly-Anti-Lucifer League.

“Are you sure he’s not going to be too mad at us?” MC asked for the dozenth time that day. Detective Toe Beans was wrapped around their neck like a scarf (he had gotten so big!!!) while MC nervously sat in one of the Library chairs.

“Positive.” Belphie said with a toothy grin. “Besides, he’s like putty when it comes to you. Just give him your best puppy eyes and we’re not guilty on all charges.”

Putty..? Really..? Lucifer..? How strict was he before MC got there... they wondered.

“Sh! He’s coming!” Satan stuck his nose into a random book, it was the Oxford English Dictionary... and it was upside down.

Belphie pretended to pass out and MC decided that the best course of action was to stare deeply into their cat’s eyes. Yeah... that looked casual and not weird.

“Satan, MC, Belphie.” Lucifer nodded to the three of them as he walked towards the entrance to his study.

“Lucifer.”

“Afternoon, father.”

Belphie let out a cartoonishly loud fake snore that nearly caused both MC and Satan to break cover and start laughing.

Side note, Bean had adorable widdle eyes! That cute little face was just to die for-

“You three..!”

Belphie, Satan, and MC peeked their heads into Lucifer’s study, their handiwork was perfect. Everything was covered in red post it notes. Perfectly not harmful, but SO inconvenient!

“You’re all cleaning this up or so help me-”

“GO!” Belphie and Satan each grabbed one of MC’s arms (Satan also grabbed Bean) and sprinted out of the House of Lamentation. Maybe they’d move back there in twenty years... they hoped that Solomon and The Angels would let them crash at Purgatory Hall...

Belphie had used up his physical energy supply for the next four years. He passed out the moment they stepped into sanctuary. Time for a nap...

Flight practice? Ha. Belphie’s napping. Though, he was suspiciously awake and filming whenever MC did something stupid.

“Try not to suck so bad.”

“GO TO HELL BELPHIE!”

“I’m already there. Hell is every second I’m stuck here watching you fail.”

“YOU’RE GOING TO GET IT FOR THAT!”

Well... MC mastered the dive bomb that day. Lucifer bought them a cake.

Bonus! Your Dad’s New Husband! That Has Managed to Somehow Make Everyone Hate Him Despite the Fact That He’s A Cinnamon Roll. (Diavolo)

A mini Lucifer? A mini Lucifer!

Diavolo dotes on MC like he’d dote on his own kid. MC wants a crown? They’re getting a crown! A damn nice one too! MC wants a title? Here! MC is now... idk Ruler of the area between Majolish and Hell’s Kitchen.

Poor Uncle Mammon’s got some financial insecurity, he’s still the cool uncle... right?!

He is very much that ‘how do you do fellow kids?’ Meme.

He tries to do stereotypical ‘dad’ things but he’s not very good at them. Once he tried to host a barbecue...

Barbatos saved the day, but Mammon’s hair was still singed, Solomon’s cooking still gave Beel food poisoning (SOLOMON EATS TOXIC WASTE I SWEAR-), Luke still got hit in the face with a frisbee, and Simeon got an unhealthy dose of DAD NERVES and got so stressed everyone was almost blinded by the holy light he suddenly started blasting. We do not mention the water guns.

(Seriously whose bright idea was it to give Belphie and Satan water guns while they were in Lucifer’s presence?)

Praise Barbie. He’s too good for them.

“Um...” MC awkwardly held up the baseball, trying to look at it from all angles like it was a completely alien object. “Lord Diavolo... are you sure you want to play catch?”

Diavolo clapped his hands and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Yes! It’s a thing human fathers do with their children, correct? We must make up for lost time between you and Lucifer, right?”

Lucifer massaged his temples and nodded. “If you two would like to play catch...” Lucifer grimaced. “I will too.”

“Okay! MC, throw the ball to Lucifer!” Diavolo instructed.

Lucifer half heartedly held up his baseball glove as MC tossed him the ball. He caught it, and looked over at Diavolo, who was applauding like he just witnessed the greatest feat in sports history.

“Okay! Throw it to me!” Diavolo waved his glove in the air, Lucifer rolled his eyes and smiled. He threw the ball at Diavolo with... a lot of force. Enough force to probably dent steel... Diavolo caught it like it was nothing.

MC suddenly feared for their safety.

“Okay MC, catch!”

Diavolo threw the ball with enough force to break the god damn sound barrier. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but the ball sailed way over MC’s head and crashed right through a window.

“Oh my...” Diavolo put a hand on his hip and surveyed the damage to the window. “This isn’t so bad, I believe in human world TV shows this happens quite often. Look! The glass broke in a perfect circle!”

“Yay... property damage...” MC murmured.

Lucifer sighed and pulled out his DDD. “I’ll phone someone to replace the win-”

“Lucifer no! Now according to human world customs we must,” Diavolo took a deep breath, rushed forward, grabbed both Lucifer and MC’s hands and started sprinting away from the Demon Lord’s Castle. “RUN FOR IT!”

“Di- Diavolo!” Lucifer gasped.

“Who are we running from?! That’s your castle!” MC squeaked.

“I don’t know! Just run! That’s what the human TV show says to do!”

Weirdly enough, Diavolo was the best flight instructor. MC’s ability to fly increased tenfold after Diavolo found out that MC was learning to fly.

“You’re doing amazing MC! That was a perfect turn!”

“Thanks Lord Diavolo, I’m surprised I haven’t crashed into anyone or fallen yet!”

“Well, I highly doubt you’ll be crashing into anyone anymore, your flying is practically perfect now!”

Mammon proceeded to fly past them holding what looked like Lucifer’s wallet.

“M-mammon?!”

“Oh... I wonder what he’s doing. Look, MC! It’s Lucifer! Hello Lucifer dea-”

Lucifer ended up colliding with the two of them and sending them all crashing to the floor.

That was the last time MC fell during flying practice.

(We currently have a Go Fund Me set up for Mammon to get the funds necessary to flee the Devildom after that incident. Please donate to save- oh shit hi Lucifer-)

#Obey me #Obey me! #obey me! shall we date? #obey me shall we date #Obey me Headcanons #If you got through all of that... thank you! you’re a real one! #obey me! headcanons #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me MC #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me Satan #obey me asmodeus #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me Belphegor #Obey me Diavolo #obey me dialuci #Dialuci #Obey me! Lucifer #obey me! belphegor #obey me! beelzebub #Obey me! Mammon #obey me! leviathan #Obey me! Satan #obey me! asmodeus #Obey me! Diavolo #Lucifer’s Kid #This was legit so fun to write! I’ve been thinking about this idea for a while now and it’s so nice to see it finally in written format! #keep in mind: I wrote this with the idea that MC was 13/14 years old