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wavernot4love · 3 months

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alright y'all lil (alright, maybe not so little) recap of the second show of AG's Boom Done tour last night 3.4 in Buffalo @ one of my favorite venues, Mohawk Place. because my brain commits absolutely everything to memory at shows & i like writing it all down before i forget

(for fun & plus maybe folks going to this tour want to know what's shakin, since i haven't seen much online yet):

(note there will be setlist spoilers)

- alright so first, a freakin HIGHLIGHT for me was, of course, GET OUT!!!

Anthony was just kinda messing around with his guitar & then teased it by being like "hmm... how should i play this..." and then went into that and the crowd reception was AWESOME, dude. whatever the opposite of masking is, that's what i was doing there. i definitely started physically jumping up & down once i realized what it was (typical wavernot4love @ the AG show behavior). aka evidently he knew your boy (who like i've mentioned on here, got into Circa last summer through a kind person at a Dunes show rec'ing me Get Out & then BSN. Get Out was straight up my introduction 2 Circa) was in the building (/Ih).

also, i had to shorten my clip to post because in the rest i must've had my phone right next to my mouth,,, which made for some horrifying tone deaf live vox from wavernot4love. be glad i spared y'all from that one.

(i'm gonna put one of those keep reading thingies here, click it 2 see the rest)

- he also played Dyed In The Wool & Frozen Creek, continuing that theme (though I expected these more since he's played em recently). Dyed In The Wool with everyone singing along during the chorus was probably my top moment, and one that's gonna stick with me forever, honestly. i remember thinking it straight up felt like, a churchlike (but positive) experience or something during the songs everyone did that for (remember, it's just anthony this tour no backing band, so it was somewhat quiet in there). more on that later, but AG kept pointing out how nice the singing along was & how fun/awesome this all was, and man, that it was.

- he mentioned valuing spontaneity over a planned setlist every night and basically implied he was just goin for whatever felt right at the time. so just consider the songs i mention here as a basic guideline, he could very well switch stuff up every night. i love that he's like this when it comes to shows - idk dude, like, at one point he even asked folks what time it was, laughing when they told him, jokingly accusing them of being untrustworthy & then going right back into the tunes. dude was just here to play, for as long as he could.

- kinda tied to that, there was a running gag of the set being "inconsistent" (his word). he'd bring up jokingly that there'd be moments where everyone could be singing along, and then songs that nobody knows (and he'd jokingly "apologize" for that), and he'd even (lightheartedly) call specific people out and be like (to laughs) "look at this person, they have no *idea* what i'm gonna play next!" actually i think he said that before Get Out. at one point he was (paraphrased slightly) like, "so if i start playing 12 Circa songs in a row, let me know." i love how he just does whatever the hell feels right in the moment.

- also a couple times he messed up while starting a song (i think due to laughing) and bro would call out folks laughing at him for it (lightheartedly) and be like "this is all performance. vou don't know what goes into this!" (this was not at all serious and said through laughter. straight up half the show was all of us in that room just cracking up together)

- he introduced his Title Fight cover (Numb, But I Still Feel It) by calling TF one of his favorite bands & joking that they're gonna hear this & think it's time to get back together so... if you hear that Title Fight reunited, you know why, which, well, if you know that side of the scene, you know what's up. real shits and giggles moment, if i do say so myself.

- at one point (only bad thing) someone at the front was being objectively Weird in the way people (unfortunately) do to try to get an artist's attention (let's just say it involved throwing money (????? literally what) while yelling stuff about understanding because they're in the industry (??)) and he honestly handled it with so much grace. he pretty much said that made him uncomfortable etc and he would Not be taking more of their money please, he already did that, and that led to him ranting for a second i think mostly to himself in a thinking out loud/under his breath kinda way about *hating* having to sell stuff in the first place in order to do this and like,,, i go into this a bit in the tags but it genuinely reminded me of how i get when i'm passionate about something. what i'm trying to say, is dude clearly was heated & meant it. fully. just felt relevant to include

- then he ranted about something related to the moneythrowing, drunk (question mark) weirdo (long story, but it ended in him telling them to tip bartenders with their money instead of weird things), then used that to go on a tangent about how we should always tip people working in service in general and respect/be kind to them even if they seem rude or whatever because doing that shit is hard & sucks and maybe your kindess will be the wakeup call that causes them to one day have a moment where they're like, man, i was a dick back then for no reason. (i feel like i am nearly direct quoting him here)

- then after a song he joked about the incident saving we were probably just all watching like 🧍‍♂️ and it was like watching dad yell at mom at the dinner table while you just sit there staring at the ground and safe to say the mood was fully lightened after that moment of self awareness fhfhfh

- then a few songs later i guess the person that was being weird had left so he was like, (at this point there were no weird vibes whatsoever, like we were all just scoffing/laughing at the situation and cheering him on) "oh that person who hates me left. did they give the bartender that money?" (someone implied they thought so) and he was like "good." and that was the end with that weirdo situation lol. i have absolutely no idea why that person, drunk or not, thought that was a normal cool thing to do. as always, please don't be weird 2 musicians they are in every sense just Some Guys (gender neutral), treat them like anyone else.

- back 2 totally unserious things, during... uh don't mind me, like i've said in my previous posts i'm still getting 2 know Boom Done, so whatever song has like, the horns kinda near the end? he just started making freakin. horn noises since since there were, in fact, no horns in the building and made us all do them too and everyone was just straight up cackling because it was so stupid (/pos).

- idk one thing that stood out to me was one person belting along at the end of... i can't remember what song it was actually, i think one of his older tunes, but you could tell he heard & a song later complimented it & said it was beautiful. i'm telling ya, he kept going on about how nice folks singing along sounded and encouraging that, which was awesome because i wasn't sure what the vibe was gonna be there since it was just him playing.

- don't want to go into detail since it feels like something between Anthony & whoever he decides to tell it to in real time, ya know, but he did tell a pretty extensive story leading up to Miracle Sun. in terms of themes, it was in regards to (with plenty of laughs mixed into the serious bits, of course) letting folks that matter to him down + falling into a cycle of engaging in stuff that temporarily made him feel better but was moreso just self destructive, in the past. just interesting stuff to hear in connection to a song.

- at the end, before Dear Child, he just talked in the most honest manner about knowing he's let people down, cancelled shows (there were laughs mixed in here too), just not been the best version of himself over the years etc, but appreciating how long everyone has stuck around, and how we keep coming back, & jow much it means whenever we tell someone go check out a song or anything like that, & helping him continue to do this and also support his family and whatnot and man it just. embodied everything i love about AG solo sets i guess. i just admire how open a book &p vulnerable dude is. while i love his more theatric frontman persona of course as it's fun as hell, it's so nice at solo shows like this to hear more from him, in seriousness and otherwise. also dude was posting about how fun it was on instagram later so i'm just glad we all had a great time.

- also at one point before a new tune he was talking about these cds he had that have that on it + some rerecordings, Frozen Creek (feat. Keith of GOW), etc. i love cds so i ran to snag one later of course (they're $12)

- as for other merch he had a few shirts (like that cute one i keep seeing around, with him & the puppy), some art prints, & the Boom Done book thingy (i really wanted it but couldn't swing the $25 right now sadly)

anyways,, i posted on Setlist FM for the first time, here are all the songs i remember for sure (there were definitely at least 4/5 others i am not thinking of, i'd say he did 17ish songs, he played for close to an hour and a half. keep in mind he talked a LOT with us which was awesome)

edit: someone added a few more!!!

anyways, that's the show!!! 1. i may or may not be trying 2 figure out how to pull off one of the other northeast dates (looking @ Cleveland, which is closer but i'd have to drive to, or New York, which is further (+ yknow.. dealing w getting around in NY) but i could take a bus to, this weekend/next week as we speak,,,, that's how freakin good and homey (more on that in the tags aka uhh literal diary section of this post) and impactful this show was.

and 2. if any of this (especially said tags) sounds loopy it sure is because i wrote most of this at roughly four am last night post show, when i was even moreso still back *at* the show in my head. i still stand by all of it though of course, i just know it might not be the most coherent.

this tour rocks. AG's tunes mean so much to me. get out 2 a show!!! tell me about your experiences if ya do/did!!!! yay!!!!

#it is safe to say i have genuinely endless respect & admiration for this person who happens to be my favorite artist in the world #i could not be happier or moreso in my neutral state of how i feel like things should be than i am at the ag show #also the more i hear him talk the more i realize homie reminds me of... me.#not in a “me modeling my behaviors after him because i look up to him” kinda way #though i certainly have picked up on small things there like i tend to with folks #like phrases and the like #but no #moreso just in a “the two of us happen to share some innate similarities in regards to a buncha stuff” kinda way #just an observation. in hindsight i wonder if i subconsciously picked up on this back when i was first getting into his music #n that contributed to it resonating with me so much #i don't know man i just know i'm glad 2 have this dude's music in my life and to see homie thriving #truly hope we can meet @ a show sometime soon so i can dive into how much of a positive impact he's had on my life. i have so much to say!!#i tried to make that happen at this show i really did #i just guess it wasn't meant 2 happen then. and that is okay!! i know it will whenever it's meant to.#going back to what i said about everything just feeling.... right at the show i keep thinking about how while i miss that already #and am kinda having a crisis where in my head i feel like i'm still there (or should be) as opposed 2 here back in regular just. life #i'm just glad and lucky moments like this show are a real thing that can be my life at all.#basically i just mean the vibe of ag shows feels like everything i define my life by really #realized as something/place i can actually physically experience.#shows r my safe space that embody everything i dream about when i'm just going about day to day life #live music is everything 2 me & that's only amplified exponentially by folks like anthony that get it & turn shows even moreso into a home #thanks for reading if you have #i'm truly glad to have this space where i feel like i can talk about Everything #i love that on here the “oversharing” thing is just a thing everyone does #actually that ties back to what i brought up about anthony #i respect how unapologetically open that dude is in ways that might be “too much” for some people & really connect 2 that #point is i am so grateful for days like this and music like this and people like this #anthony green #circa survive #wavernot4love talks ag tunes

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solarmorrigan · 1 year

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You know how cats seem to have an innate sense of when you’re about to get up, and they choose that exact moment to sit down on your lap? And no sooner have they made themselves comfortable than you realize that you have to go to the bathroom, or someone calls you over, or the phone starts ringing, and you have to shove the poor cat off your lap?

That’s basically Eddie’s sex life right now.

Well alright, no, not entirely, but – it’s a component that’s certainly starting to become an irritation.

It’s just that Steve has a wonderful lap.

At least, Eddie assumes it’s wonderful. It’s wonderfully inviting, at the very least; it’s wide enough to offer Eddie (who is not quite as generously endowed in the whole… thighs-ass department, he’ll admit) a good seat, and he’s had his hands on the area often enough to know it’s firm but with just the right amount of give to be very comfortable.

But Eddie’s never actually gotten to spend much time on it.

He doesn’t even mean that in a sexual way (although that much is also true). Every time he’s so much as tried to plop himself down on Steve’s lap to do something as innocent as watch a movie, Steve seems to remember something he needs to get up and do within just a few minutes.

For a little while, Eddie had been worried about what that meant. Did Steve not want to spend time with him? Did Steve not want Eddie near him? Did Steve not find him attractive? Did Steve just find him annoying?

But further time spent together has given Eddie more confidence. Clearly Steve enjoys spending time with him—submits to it willingly and often—and does find Eddie annoying but in a way he enjoys. Steve also most definitely finds Eddie attractive (and, in fact, has no trouble at all spending extended time on Eddie’s lap). So at this point, it’s more of a puzzle. A frustration.

It can’t be that Eddie’s too heavy for him; Eddie isn’t a small guy, really, but he isn’t huge, either. He’s seen Steve push and pull bigger people around – hell, he’s seen Steve carry Mike a good ways through the woods and back to the car after the kid had slipped and twisted his ankle when they’d been out walking (an incident which none of them are allowed to speak of ever, for varying reasons of blackmail and dignity), and he’s not too much smaller than Eddie.

Eddie is nothing if not a direct sort of guy, though – if he’s thinking something, he’s going to say it. This is mostly because he has very little brain-to-mouth filter, but he’s learned to make it part of his image. He’s pretty sure it works for him.

All of this to say that one afternoon, as they make out on Steve’s couch, Eddie freshly settled on Steve’s lap, Eddie decides to just… ask.

He waits until he can feel Steve’s hands sliding down around his thighs—not groping, but with the intent to move him—before he pulls back to say anything.

“Hey,” he says—gasps, really, still a little breathless with his attempt to seize the opportunity, “question.”

Steve blinks up at him, startled. “Uh. Shoot.”

“Do you not like it, when I sit on your lap? Because it kinda seems like you find other places to be when I try to make that happen.”

If Steve had been startled before, that’s nothing on how he looks now. He covers it in an instant, but Eddie’s seen it; Steve’s good, he’s very good, but Eddie is literally right in his face.

“What?” Steve pulls back, brows drawn in confusion. “No. Why would I have a problem with you being in my lap?”

Eddie shrugs. “Not a damn clue. That’s why I figured I’d ask. It’s just that whenever I get myself settled here, you suddenly remember you have to get up.”

“I don’t do that,” Steve scoffs, throwing in a good-natured eye roll.

“You kinda do, babe,” Eddie says, keeping it light; this isn’t an argument, nor an accusation – it’s literally just a question, and he doesn’t want to scare Steve off.

“So you’re saying, that every time I have my boyfriend on my lap – a guy I find insanely hot, by the way,” Steve’s hand slide back up Eddie’s thighs, edging towards his ass, and this time he’s groping, “you’re saying I don’t want him there, is that right?”

Eddie’s resolve almost breaks as Steve stares up at him with his ridiculous, pretty eyes (he’s good, he’s very good, Eddie will give him that) and tugs him closer with his ridiculous, strong hands, but he knows Steve is lying. He knows it.

He just doesn’t know why.

And isn’t that interesting? Eddie wouldn’t exactly call Steve an open book, but they know each other pretty well by now; Eddie can usually read Steve, but he has no idea what he’s thinking just at the moment.

So he decides to allow it.

He’ll see where it goes.

“Hm,” Eddie hums, as if he’s thinking. “That does sound a little silly, if you put it like that.”

“Completely silly.” Steve grins up at him, but there’s a thread of very genuine sincerity in what he says next. “Of course I want you here.”

And Eddie’s not sure what to say to that, so he leans back in to kiss Steve again.

And for a while, it’s fine. Great, even. Steve is a very good kisser, after all, and Eddie likes to think he’s no slouch himself, and a good time is being had by all, except before too long Eddie can feel Steve starting to tense up under him.

Once again, Eddie doesn’t mean this in a sexual way.

It’s not the fun, anticipatory kind of tensing, but the ready to run or punch something kind of tensing. The kind of tension that comes from a threat, not from having your boyfriend on your lap.

Eddie waits to see if Steve will do anything, say anything, but he does nothing. His kisses grow more distracted, quicker and shallower, but he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t push Eddie away.

It’s when Steve starts shaking that Eddie gives up.

“Okay,” Eddie pulls away, shifting himself to the side so he doesn’t have more than an ankle draped over Steve’s legs, “what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean, what’s wrong? You’re the one who pulled away,” Steve snaps.

“Yeah, because it feels like you don’t want me up there,” Eddie shoots back.

Steve rolls his eyes again, irritated this time. “What, you don’t like it if I don’t let you sit on my lap, you don’t like it if I do let you sit on my lap– What the fuck do you want from me?”

“Maybe just the goddamn truth.”

Whatever Eddie expects, it isn’t for Steve to just… stare at him.

He stares at Eddie for a good five seconds in full silence before shaking his head. “No,” he says quietly, “you don’t want that.”

His sudden reticence only sparks Eddie’s irritation. “Don’t tell me what I do or don’t want, Steve. You don’t want to tell me, that’s on you, but don’t decide for me what I don’t want to know.”

“Well what do you think you’re going to hear, Eddie, huh?” Steve barks. “What do you want to hear? You wanna hear how Billy Hargrove sat on me – pinned me down while he beat me unconscious? Or you wanna hear how it felt to be handcuffed to a fucking chair while some Russians– while they– how it felt to be held down and not be able to stop them from doing anything?”

Steve has stood up now, pacing in front of Eddie, and Eddie wishes he could do anything other than fucking stare while his boyfriend has some kind of breakdown that he started.

“Or – or how about how I ruined multiple dates, or hookups, or whatevers when someone tried to sit themselves down on top of me and I damn near shoved them off onto the floor and then had to make up some dumb fucking excuse and run out on them before I had some kind of fucking panic attack? You wanna hear all that?” Steve demands, rounding back on Eddie. “No! You don’t… you don’t want to hear that.”

“Steve… no, I don’t wanna hear all that,” Eddie says, and hurries on when he can see Steve practically crumple in on himself, “I don’t want to hear that all that horrible shit has happened to you, but I need to.”

“Wh– what?”

“You don’t… I mean, you don’t have to give me specifics if you don’t want, but I need to know what might set you off so I don’t accidentally do it, okay?” Eddie says. “It fucking terrifies me that you went through all that, and I know I can’t do anything about it, but I’m at least not going to be one more thing that makes you hurt. I’m gonna make damn sure of that.”

“…Oh.”

It’s clearly not what Steve was expecting to hear, and for a moment he shifts uncertainly in front of Eddie. He wraps his arms around himself before seeming to think better of it and crossing them over his chest instead. Eddie wants nothing more than to draw him close and hold him, but Steve’s not quite ready yet.

“I’m not… I didn’t want to say anything. I don’t want it to be an issue,” Steve finally says.

I don’t want you to treat me differently, he doesn’t say.

“Then we won’t make it an issue.” Eddie shrugs. “You got some kind of trauma associated with sitting on other people, or can you come back over here to me?”

Steve blinks at Eddie, startled, before he gives in to a little huff of laughter, slowly crossing back over to the couch.

“You’re an ass,” he says, all fondness.

“Mm, so I’ve been told,” Eddie says, aiming a smug smile up at Steve as Steve settles himself right over Eddie’s lap. “And yet, here you are.”

“Yeah…” Steve leans in, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth, quirking a little smile as he pulls away. “Here I am.”

#This week on Steve's Got Trauma: whatever this is #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #this got a bit sappier than intended but here we are I guess #solar wrote #eddiesteve

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merakiui · 8 months

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long-distance love.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, phone sex, obsession, power imbalance, kidnapping, implied (cyber)stalking, non-con touching, characters written as 18+ note - sea witch, the magicord mod you've had intimate online relations with, is closer than you thought.

Sea Witch is a busy man.

His weekly schedules are almost always packed to bursting, each event meticulously arranged into open slots as if aiming to form a perfect puzzle. Times never conflict; he’s particular about how he spends his hours, and very rarely does he allow himself a break. It has always been work, work, work. He’s one of the city’s most affluent, eligible bachelors and yet he’s married to his business. Those who lust after him think it’s a wasteful shame. Azul finds it to be a relief far greater than any he’s ever known. He will never compromise the enterprise he’s built from the ground up just because of some flimsy, fickle feelings.

Originally, he had no interest in Magicord, a messaging platform that grants people from all over the world the chance to congregate on specific servers for mutual interests like anime and gaming. He only downloaded it because Idia Shroud, a fellow friend and business partner, lived and breathed the app, his online presence so profound it was almost like a second home. He’d swipe away notifications from his actual messaging app, too busy in a voice call with his group of dungeon raiders to bother answering important calls.

So he resolved to get on Idia’s level in hopes of improving communication. Although Idia’s level, as Azul often noted, was not exactly a place he wanted to be. While Magicord could be used for business purposes, that wasn’t what drew people in. Azul of all people knew very well which target audiences were being reached with apps like Magicord, and he was not one of them.

“To think I’d stoop as low as this,” Azul had once groused over a phone call with Idia, who was giving him quite a lengthy, not-very-needed-but-also-very-much-needed rundown on Magicord’s inner workings. “I hardly have time to play games, let alone socialize on this…app.”

“Aren’t you always going on about how adaptable you are?” Idia sniped back, not in the mood for normie criticism. The sound of clacking keys could be heard on his end. “And you’re the one who asked. Kinda defeats the purpose of learning if you’re just gonna complain.”

Azul rolled his eyes. “I fail to see the logic in downloading another app just to ensure my messages reach you. Honestly, you ought to start checking your email. Or, at the very least, go through your missed call and text logs.”

Alas, Idia had been stubbornly adamant about his preferences and so, much to his displeasure, Azul was forced to undergo something of a Magicord Training Camp until he emerged a pro. And being a pro meant knowing how to navigate his own profile and toggle between that and Idia’s, which was really the only tip he needed because that was all he’d use the app for.

But Azul has always had an innate itch for wanting to know something from top to bottom, inside-out, and the idea of not knowing every little detail about Magicord drove him insane. If there was an opportunity he could capitalize on, why should he risk squandering it with his elementary-level knowledge? So he spent his rare slivers of free time playing around in there, creating a server and wondering who could ever become so attached to an app when the world beyond the screen was filled with just as many, if not more, social encounters.

His introverted side understood the appeal. In fact, he loved the idea of hiding behind a manufactured persona online. He didn’t have to be Azul Ashengrotto on Magicord. Rather, he could rid himself of his dislikable traits and become an entity—an idea or a concept—rather than a flawed man who others might scrutinize ruthlessly.

So he became Sea Witch, and within just a week he’d constructed quite the comfortable server. The invite link was spread throughout the various branches of Mostro. It would provide employees with an online sanctuary, where they could easily connect should doing so in person prove complicated (as had been the case regarding Idia, which was the sole reason he’d even poured so much time into this effort). Most of all, it gave Azul the chance to keep watch from afar, silently sitting in wait and curating a collection of mostly unimportant intel. Mere gossip, if anything.

But gossip is just as good as the next scandal. He likes to be prepared, a razored edge on all sides.

As far as the company was concerned, no one knew who this Sea Witch character was and no one knew who spread the link. And as far as individual employees knew, this was likely just some overworked intern’s labor of love—a well-crafted server intended to function as a digital gathering place for those exhausted after a long day. And that was mostly true, but all of the potential blackmail he could gather, the information he could glean, and even the people he could keep a closer eye on in an online setting—all of that paled in comparison to the real prize he’d attained. This was of great importance. It was something that altered the course of his life, opened his eyes to the brilliant beauty of a first love.

It was there in that undersea-themed haven where he met you, the one who would add flavorful spice to the once bland, boring meal that was his life. And just after a few weeks of simple, cordial conversation, he realized a single taste of your kind companionship wouldn’t be enough to sate him.

Greedy to a fault, Azul wanted you in your entirety.

Which brings him to the present, where he’s currently leaning back into the expensive leather of his driver’s seat. He’s parked on a silent strip of road, in a more residential part of the city. It’s not very busy here, and his windows are tinted to avoid immediate recognition. Rush hour won’t hit until later, and he’s not due for any conferences. He has time. Plenty of it to spare on this little excursion.

“I wanna meet you, Sea Witch,” you admit, nearly whining through the phone. “Where’re you from? Maybe we’re in the same area.”

Azul smiles at your impatience. You just can’t get enough of him, can you?

Every weekend, you hop into a VC with him and chat for hours on end. At first he simply provided a listening ear when you wished to rant through text or call. You’d voice all sorts of complaints. Azul filed them away in the event that they might be useful in the future, initially intending to use such information to ruin you should you prove to be someone worth ruining. But the more he spent listening and scrawling notes on blank paper, the more he realized you were just overworked and struggling financially.

Upon making these connections and learning all sorts of facts from you regarding your life beyond Magicord, he felt compelled to help. Out of the goodness of his heart, of course, ever the benevolent saint. And you weren’t complaining when he offered to pay you for your time. In exchange for two hours of conversation, he’d provide you with the funds you needed to afford your necessities.

Somehow, throughout many months of give and take—with his giving being on the jaw-droppingly exorbitant side, always one to top his own ludicrous generosity—your hours-long conversations would sink beneath the surface of mere companionship. It was one-sided intimacy. Azul was careful with what he shared, building a mostly secretive profile for himself. He didn’t want to risk tarnishing your fondness for Sea Witch by sharing details that felt more like Azul and less like the effortlessly funny, charming, and eloquent Magicord mod you’d originally made contact with.

You didn’t seem to worry about compromising your own privacy, easily divulging a variety of fun tidbits about your life. You’d share the tiniest of details and he’d eat it up every time, hungering for more than just crumbs. That time you sent him a photo of the octopus macarons you’d bought from a local bakery because you were thinking of him? He remembers it well, and he’s constantly reminded of it when you text him about things you did over the weekend or hobbies you basked in. Sending photos of your houseplants, asking him for his opinion on clothes you were hoping to buy (which he was always more than willing to sponsor; all you needed to do was send the link and he’d purchase it), and even trusting him enough to fall asleep in the VC with him (arguably one of his favorite things about your unique relationship).

And he called it unique not because it was a bad sort of strange. Rather, it was unique in the refreshing sense. He’d never had an online friend before, let alone someone who would so willingly and readily indulge him. Granted, this willingness stemmed from the deal he’d cut with you and so you were really only doing these things for your own gain. But then so was he. It was a relationship built upon necessity. You needed money to survive, and he needed you.

So it was okay to fall into sleazy fantasies. It was all an act anyway, and it wasn’t like you judged him or his preferences. At least, not outright. If you did, it was silent. You were considerate and sweet; and you really did consider him a friend. Or so he hoped. If your casual conversations were any proof, it was obvious there was some sort of enjoyment and trust there.

Friendship or something more, he would have you. Whether that meant in the safety of his pocket, enclosed within his mobile phone forever, or in his penthouse, tucked away in his bedroom—he’d have you.

“I’m from a city, yes,” he answers, purposely cryptic.

“Obviously. Come onnn, Witchy. Don’t you wanna meet me, too?”

“I do, and one day we’ll meet. I promise.”

He listens to your irritated groan and his cock twitches in his slacks. Good god, your voice is a blessing—more heavenly than a cherubic choir.

“One day isn’t today, though.”

“Perhaps not.” He speaks to distract you from the rustling fabric of his pressed suit as his hand strays further. He spies his reflection in the rearview mirror, notes the flash in his irises. If only you were here, sitting beside him in the passenger seat. If only he could slide his own seat as far back as it would go, lie still and serene, and let you climb into his lap to spear yourself on his erection. Genuine leather be damned. He wanted your scent, your essence, your everything engraved into the very interior. “Humor me—if we were to meet right now, what would you like to do?”

“Mm, I’d want to get a good look at the man I’ve been talking to for nine months now.”

“Oh, you’ve kept track?”

“You haven’t?” Your laughter is fluffy and light—authentic amusement. “And I’d want to memorize your face so that I’ll never forget it.”

“May I ask why?”

“Because I’m so curious! You know what I look like—”

“Not entirely,” he interjects, sly and silver-tongued. “You’re a portrait half-finished in my mind. Not yet sketched to completion.”

And it’s true. From your shoulders down, you are a faceless beauty. He’s seen you nearly naked and fully clothed, in frills and lace, in latex and ribbons, in satin and chiffon. And yet, for all of the skin you’ve shown, he can’t place a face (or a real name, for that matter) to your body.

“Okay, poet,” you tease, and he’s already palming himself through the fine fabric of his trousers. “But I’ve still never seen an inch of you. You’ve never even sent a dick pic.”

“You’ve never asked.”

“Can I have one now?”

“Nice try.”

“Asshole!” you gripe, clicking your tongue in disappointment. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“I’m aware,” he hums, squeezing himself, his breath coming out faint and haggard.

Yeah, he’s the worst. But then you’re the best at eliciting these sorts of reactions from him. The effect you have on him is utterly enthralling. Your ability to reduce him to a pliable puddle in just a few words—a mere few lighthearted, hollow insults—is truly impressive. He’d feel ashamed of himself if it wasn’t so good.

“You’re probably not even that big.”

“Would you like an exact measurement?”

“Wouldn’t it be better to measure it in person? See how many inches I could fit inside. I’ve been practicing with that dildo you sent me—the one shaped like a tentacle,” you purr, frustratingly coy. He wants your sinful lips wrapped around his dick right now—wants to fuck your throat sore and raw. Wants nothing more than to spill heavy and hot on your tongue so you’ll taste him for days. “If we met up, we could make that happen. Sooo, where’s my Sea Witch from? What part of the world?”

“Patience, angelfish.”

Even though he says so, he’s practically vibrating with excitement as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Soon. So soon. Very, very soon.

And then…

He imagines you rolling your eyes with your next words. “Fine, fine. I’ll be patient. But that’s not gonna stop me from fantasizing.”

“Well, what do you think I look like?”

“Now isn’t that a fun question?” You mull it over. He can tell because you mutter a variety of ums and hmms in that soft, sweet voice of yours. “I think you’re tall and you have a handsome face that matches your equally handsome voice.”

“Yeah?” he encourages, undoing the belt, button, and zip on his pants one-handed. “What else?”

Your giggles filter into his ears, seeming closer than they actually are due to the wireless earbuds he’s wearing. “From what I’ve gathered, you seem to have expensive tastes.”

Sitting in his lavish, one-of-a-kind, custom-made sports car, Azul thinks you would be correct.

“I wonder what gave it away…” he drawls, his voice creeping an octave lower.

He places his phone in the cup holder, reaching to open the glove compartment and retrieving a tiny bottle of lube. Squirting a scant amount on his palm, he fishes himself, throbbing and pathetically hard, out of his boxers. His slick hand is a warm, welcome embrace around his silky-smooth shaft. He sucks in a breath through grit teeth, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Mhm, I wonder. It’s not the fact that you told me I should just buy a designer bag for work when I asked for recommendations. And it’s certainly not your ability to get me lots of nice gifts as if it’s nothing. So maybe it’s just your excessive generosity that makes you seem so rich?”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.”

“Speaking of that, what do you do for a living?”

“Guess.”

“Okay, Mr. Mysterious… Um… Hm. I think you’re a pilot.”

The whiplash that assumption brings is so seismically jarring he thinks he might go flaccid. Gripping himself with renewed vigor, he slides his fist along his length, slow and perfunctory, picturing you under his desk, your mouth open wide to receive him…

“A pilot… Mm, no, not quite.”

“Aw. My second guess was gonna be a contract killer. They make lots of money.”

“You have quite the wild imagination, angelfish. Even if I was one, do you think I’d admit that to you?”

“Maybe,” you tease. He pictures your smirk as it twists your perfect, pretty lips into something wicked. “For the right price, yeah?”

“Oh? Do elaborate.”

Please. Please keep going. Don’t stop talking. I need to hear you, closer, louder, clearer… More.

“What sort of price would I have to pay to get Sea Witch to spill his secrets?” you muse, your voice a tantalizing curl of syllables, but he suspects you already know the answer to your hypothetical. “I can’t offer you money, so you’d have to settle for something a little more…physical.”

He shivers, nodding his agreement even though you can’t see it. “Physical’s good,” he mumbles, foregoing eloquence in favor of filth. “Much better than—mm—than money…”

“Yeah? All right. Let’s see… You’re well-off and you might or might not be a contract killer. Do you wear suits?”

“I do.”

“Ooh, so you’re one of those contract killers.”

Azul can’t help it; he laughs, the sound tumbling out in a breathy gasp. “I prefer looking nice at all times.”

Languidly, his hand continues its idle pumping. He cracks his eyes open to peer at the pre-cum beading at the tip.

“Even if you’re just going to get messy?”

“Explicate the situation that’s leading me to soil my clothes. Details, angelfish.”

“Well, if you’re a killer who wears suits, you wouldn’t like even the smallest stain. It ruins your image, but if it was me…” You pause, probably for effect, and it works. His back arches with anticipation, fingers closing tighter. “You’d make an exception.”

“I would,” he admits far too quickly. “Always.”

“So you really would out yourself as a killer if I spread my legs for you?”

“No, but I’d let you dirty my suits.”

“Good. They’ll look better on the floor anyway.”

His breath hitches. Fuck, your every word is a siren’s song, leading him deeper into mist-clouded waters. He’d keep you pinned on his cock all day if he could. Why should you continue to work your mundane job when you could spend your precious hours with him instead? He’ll be your job. Seven days a week, during each of the breaks he’ll pencil into his schedules, you can visit him and he can empty all of his stress into you. And you’ll take it because you’re such an obedient sweetheart for him, always so ready to please your master.

He prays you can’t hear the salacious squelch of skin on skin as he works himself towards the edge, but a nastier part of him wants you to listen in so you’ll be reminded that this is your fault. No one else can possibly make him this messy. No one else is capable of rendering him a clumsy, lovestruck fool. You’re probably well aware of these facts, having brought him to this same edge numerous times in the past. Sometimes you would reach that tipping point alongside him, your gasps and groans joining his in an obscene duet.

Neither of you decided upon today’s development, but he thinks—knows—you’re intentionally stringing him along. You want this as much as he does.

“So was I right? You’re totally a contract killer?”

“I’m a businessman, angelfish,” he corrects, a silly, drunken smile softening his jaw. You make him feel so stupid, so warm and fond.

“So basically the same thing. Just as ruthless, no?”

“Please, you wound me. I’m always kind.”

“Ah, so there are others who get this treatment? And I thought I was the only one…”

“You are. No one could ever compare to you.”

He intends to tack my love onto the sentence’s end, but he stops himself. You’re not his love. Not really. You’re his angelfish, sure, but that’s different. That’s just a pet name befitting the aquatic theme he masquerades behind. And you’re not really Azul’s. You’re Sea Witch’s.

It’s Sea Witch you know and love. Beyond that, Azul is just Azul. And he’s nothing like the ideal he’s cultivated on Magicord.

He sighs and forces himself out of the turbulent trenches of his withering self-esteem. Now is not the time to contemplate which version of himself you’d be more preferential to.

You’ll have no choice but to love the real him. Soon.

“Really? I feel so special.” Impressed, you whistle and add, “I’ve gotta make you feel special, too.”

“You already have—”

“Not inside the VC. Come on, Sea Witch, don’t you wanna meet me?”

“I do. I really do,” he babbles dumbly, grinding his thumb into his slit and smearing pre-cum. He grits his teeth and tamps down a colorful word. How he yearns for this to be your hand wrapped around his length, tugging him to that far-off finish line. “I want nothing more than to—t-than to see you, all of you, in person…”

“So what’s stopping you? I could do a lot more in person than I can over the phone.” He has a smart reply for that, but it sticks in his throat. Pitifully, like the rightful debauched mess he is, he groans, low and guttural. “Let me turn the question on you, Sea Witch. If we were to meet today, what would you like to do to me?”

So many things, he thinks, a litany of smutty imagery flickering through his head.

But Sea Witch is classy (most days) and today is one of those instances. Or at least he’s going to make an attempt, however weak it may be.

“Take you to dinner,” he mumbles, executing jerky, quick motions in a daze, his cock weeping for release. He throws his head back, peers up at the interior roof of his car, and inhales sharply. “Take you all over the city if it pleases… I’d spoil you with so much finery—dress you up and then tear every article off…”

“And then?”

“And—god, fuck—wanna be inside you, angelfish… So badly—need you so badly. I wanna feel you and kiss you and hold you.”

He’s unraveling, strings pulled taut and fraying to extremity. Azul bucks into his hand and imagines it’s you, tight and warm, a sweet, snug embrace. He opens and closes his mouth, intending to beg you for more, but all that slips out are the tiniest huffs and grunts. He’s so wrapped up in his own ardor that he almost misses your quiet pants, every breath squeezed out of you as if you’re struggling to withhold your gratuitous moans. And it’s deplorable, really, the way his ears prick at these muffled sounds, the way his cock stands rigidly at attention, the way he’s falling through fragments of filthy fantasies, each one so close and yet impossibly far.

“I want you, too,” you mewl, tone wavering between shameless thrill and some sort of seventh heaven.

He wonders what you’re using to pleasure yourself. Are your fingers, slick and curled, rubbing up against those perfect, pretty spots that have you seeing stars? Or are you using the toys he purchased for your enjoyment? Maybe you’re lowering yourself onto the dildo right now, gummy walls clenching around girthy silicone. And maybe you’re tugging at your nipples, massaging them between the pads of your fingers, or maybe you’ve swapped skin-to-skin for a bullet vibrator instead.

Maybe—just maybe—it’s the mere thought of him that sets your flesh aflame with an intoxicating desire.

“And I want you—” you gasp, and his mind travels to all of the risqué photos you’ve sent, each one saved in a password-protected album on his phone— “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything before. I want you to show me that no one else can compare to you. I want you to—mmh, hah—to hold me down in bed and fuck me until my legs are sore and I can’t walk.”

I will, he thinks, lashes fluttering on his cheekbones. He strokes himself quickly, chest heaving, tongue near-lolling out of his mouth as he pants like a hound in heat. I’ll do all of that and so much more. I’ll fuck every coherent thought out of your pretty head, keep you just smart enough to rely on me, turn you into the prettiest sea flower who’ll only blossom for me.

“I promise, angelfish. I promise I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted,” he vows, his nerves alight with lustful delight, “and you’ll never know misfortune again.”

“I—oh! I’m close, so close! Please, Sea Witch! Please don’t stop. Please fill me up and make me yours!”

The sheer vulgarity twined through amatory vehemence, coupled with his own hurried pace, has him tumbling down the slope, arousal peaking and spilling over in thick, creamy spurts. He has half a mind to catch his spend before it can ruin the pristine interior of his car, and he blinks down at the semen sullying his palm. Idly, he rubs his fingers together to test the viscosity, wondering how his fluids would look on your face, your stomach, your ass—or even pooling out of your hole in plentiful amounts.

That fantasy is enough to send blood rushing right back to his softening cock, and he wills those thoughts away with logic—complex calculations and the financial forecast for Mostro. There will be plenty of time to indulge in sexual cravings later. He reminds himself of this while he tamps down his zeal, his heart relaxing in his ribs as he sits with the slowly ebbing aftershocks of orgasm.

You seem to be doing much the same, for you’ve gone perfectly quiet.

“Everything all right, angelfish?” he whispers after a few minutes, his breath now evened out.

“Mm, yeah. All good over here. Messy, but good.”

“I’m comforted knowing we’re in the same boat.” He chuckles while fumbling to dig a cotton handkerchief from the depths of his suit jacket. He cleans the cum and residual lube from off his hands and dick before neatly tucking himself away. Soon, there will be no need for this charade. Soon, he can adore all of you from beyond the screen. “Angelfish, there’s something I’d like to tell you.”

“What’s up?” you murmur, your own voice settling into its usual cheery cadence. He suspects you’re just putting on an act to sound happier. That will change when you’re reunited in person because it will be real. Because there will be no point in pretending through the phone.

“Well…” Azul smiles, folds and unfolds the sodden handkerchief, and then straightens his posture. He should be on his way now. “Ah, it’s nothing. Never mind it. I’ll tell you later.”

“Whaaat? But you’ve made me so curious now. Don’t just leave me in suspense!”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to remain in that suspense indefinitely.”

“Ugh. You’re so annoying sometimes.”

He knows you don’t mean that.

“I’ll tell you soon, angelfish. Exercise a little patience. There’s no rush.”

“Easy for you to say. You know what it is.”

“That I do, yes.” He hums, considering his next words. “Would it help if I left you with a word of advice?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything.”

“Um. Okay, sure. Hit me. What’s your advice?”

Azul buckles himself in, starting his car via push button. It rumbles to life, smooth and steady. “Don’t fight so much, my dear.”

“Don’t what? Sea Witch, what are you talking—”

Your words are interrupted with a startled yelp. Azul listens to the struggle as if it’s a podcast enjoyed at sunrise. Things are toppled in the chaos; something shatters. He catches the beginnings of a blood-curdling shriek before it’s swiftly silenced. There’s more muffled scuffling before, eventually, absolute peace.

It’s broken by Floyd’s petulant whine. “Maaan, Shrimpy was so difficult. Thought you said they were easy, Azul.”

“Understandably so,” comes Jade’s astute reply. “We did catch them when they were most vulnerable.”

Floyd hums his agreement. “Y’know, Jade, Shrimpy’s kinda cute…”

“They are, aren’t they, Floyd?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, perish it right now,” Azul hisses, features twisting into something dark. “Keep your slimy mitts off of my angelfish.”

There’s an unsettling silence. Azul rolls his eyes. They’re fishing for a reaction he refuses to give.

“Clean up whatever mess you’ve made.” He takes his car out of park and eases into drive. “And don’t let anyone see you. It’ll be a hell of a pain if neighbors make unnecessary reports.”

“Yeah, yeah. Heard ya loud and clear.”

“Very well. Farewell for now.”

The call is cut. Azul grips the steering wheel, smug.

Soon waits for him on the horizon. He will not be a minute late.

You wake on a bed, in a spacious bedroom with exquisite floor-to-ceiling windows, many stories up in the clouds. A brightly lit cityscape sprawls beyond the confines of this room, illuminated with the deceptive shine of promise and success. At first it looks foreign. But then you recognize notable buildings, each standing tall and proud amidst the rest, and it occurs to you that you’re in a stranger’s home, in the heart of the big city.

The room itself is plainly colored; it reminds you of a hotel or a room you might find in a real estate catalogue. Perplexed, you sit up and take pause as your unfamiliar surroundings prove to be more frightful than your own confusion.

Pasted to the walls are various printed screenshots from Magicord, each one detailing a conversation of sorts. You stare at the wall behind you, the one in which the bed is currently pushed against, and peer closer at the contents of these messages.

They’re all from you.

Endearing terms you’ve called him in passing. Gentle insults. Lewd flirts. Vents and rants. Photos you’ve sent of very insignificant things—houseplants, meals, clothes. And then there are the photos of your body in skimpy lingerie and cosplay, all taped to the wall like this is some abstract museum of the digital you. The you who, despite being honest most of the time, took solace in the world of Magicord. The you who’d grown close with the mod from that whimsical ocean-themed server. The you who is now trapped, your ankle enclosed in a cuff. There’s a lead that only allows you to meander into the attached bathroom if you so please, and you suspect it’ll pull taut if you try to leave the room.

“What the fuck?” you mutter, your stomach twisting with disgust.

You look down at your clothes—you’re in someone’s collared shirt, intentionally designed to be oversized so that it drapes like a nightgown—and horror prickles your skin.

And then he arrives.

He’s dressed casually in black slacks and a simple white dress shirt, primly tucked in with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. You stare for a long moment, studying his features as his familiarity dawns. Your mouth falls open in a muted scream.

He smiles sweetly, stepping further into the amber glow from the bedside lamps. “It’s nice to formally meet you. I’m Sea Witch.”

But that’s not what’s shocking about this. The real shock—the thing that has your brain stumbling in an effort to put the pieces together before the picture can crumble—is far more jarring than the kidnapping and the captivity. You find your voice then, and before you can stop yourself the words are falling out in a hurry.

“CEO Ashengrotto?!”

Sea Witch—CEO Ashengrotto—stiffens, his brows furrowing immediately. He gives you a sharp, dangerous look. A look that seems to radiate one unspoken question: Where did you hear that name?

“You… You’re A-Azul Ashengrotto,” you continue, swallowing thick trepidation. “CEO of Mostro. You opened a new restaurant last year—Crave, right? And the menu features celebrity favorites—celebrities like Vil Schoenheit and Neige LeBlanche.”

He laughs his disbelief, carding a hand through soft, silvery locks. “How…do you know this?”

“I work there. You visited once with your secretary for quality checks. We even crossed paths.”

Azul gawks, realizes he’s gawking, and clears his throat. “I… I see. Well.” He inhales, holds his breath for three seconds, and exhales. “This makes things rather…awkward.”

“When you said businessman, I didn’t think… I mean, how was I supposed to know? Your voice sounds so different over call than it does in interviews.”

“Of course it does! I never use the same inflection for those things.”

This cannot be real, you think, watching him flounder anxiously. Azul Ashengrotto is Sea Witch. This whole time… Nine entire months… I was talking to the CEO—to the city’s most popular bachelor—and I didn’t even know it. They write articles about this guy! He’s all over the TV! How did I never realize?

And then a very mortifying thought worms its way in: Oh my God. We both know each other’s preferences. He saw so much of me—more than I’d ever want him to see—and I heard too many private things during our calls…

“Let’s just…” You rub circles into your temples to quell the incoming migraine. “Let’s never talk about this again. You can buy my silence and I’ll move on with my life. I’ll even forget all of…” You glance at the Magicord conversations stuck to the wall and then the chain binding your ankle. “All of this…stuff. We’ll agree to call it a misunderstanding and life will be good, yeah?”

The bargain doesn’t seem to reach him. He continues to stare at you, his eyes glazed with an emotion you can’t place. Whatever it is, it’s stormy and dark. You don’t like it, and you shrink away when he steps closer.

“All this time you were right under my nose…”

Azul climbs onto the bed with you, the mattress depressing under the additional weight. Framed by the hypnotic radiance of the skyscrapers climbing heavenward, he’s certainly earned his place in every celebrity gossip magazine you’ve ever read. Articles debating whether he’s secretly committed to a relationship. Articles theorizing what his life plans may have in store for him. Articles discussing whether he’ll ever get married, if he’ll remain single for the rest of his life, if he’ll ever open his heart to the many people who hope to earn his romantic affections.

No one knows it—how could they when he’s so tight-lipped with the paparazzi?—but you are the secret variable the articles have yet to discover. You are the covert partner, the one who has won his heart, the one who now sits shackled on his bed.

What sort of tabloid journalist could ever spin this story?

You scoot further up the bed, your back pressing against the ornately extravagant headboard. Your knees are pulled into your chest, a futile attempt at protection.

“All this time you were so close to me…” He marvels at this, his baby blue hues locked permanently on you. “And neither of us knew. I could’ve had you much sooner had I just realized…”

You blink at him, your heart sinking with every passing second. “Mr. Ashengrotto, what do you mean by that?”

A pout tugs at perfect, pretty lips. “Why so formal, angelfish? We’re much closer than that, surely.” His hands settle upon your knees, gently pulling them apart. Your blood curdles with fear. “There’s no need to be so tense. It’s only me.”

“No… Please wait. Hold on!”

“Hm? If I’m not mistaken, this is what you want. You were rather vocal about your desires. You’ve always been. So why are you looking at me like that? I’m not scary, am I?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Please let me go…”

He clicks his tongue in disapproval, his tone patient despite the subject. “You know I can’t do that.”

“But you… You kidnapped me! Y-You had those guys hiding in my home and they…” You shake your head, unable to describe the sheer terror that had overwhelmed you when those creepy twins descended. Hopeless, you open your eyes to give him your most despairing look. Tears brim in your eyes, threatening to fall at the slightest prodding.

“Oh, my dear, did they scare you? They’re brutes who know nothing of how to treat a person with adequate care. You needn’t worry anymore. I’m here for you.” He cups your face in a fond hold, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your cheek. “Don’t cry, angelfish. You’re in good hands—my hands. And have they not been the most generous?”

“You’re crazy. Obsessed! How can you think any of this is okay? Look around at the walls! You’ve pasted our conversations everywhere—they’re practically the wallpaper!”

“What of it?” His hand slides down to grip your chin, forcing you to meet him at eye level. “I love you. I have for months now. And if those are the ways you choose to classify my care, so be it.”

Tear trails trace down your face. He leans in to kiss the rivers away, but they morph into the saltiest of seas.

“You may not approve of my affections right this very moment. You may hate me, think I’m monstrous, a culmination of all things foul, but you will love me. In due time, my dear. And when you do, the world will open and the chain will come off and you will know freedom under my roof.”

He has the gall to worship you with a loving smile. It poisons you with newly brewing abhorrence.

“So cry your heart out. Scream and kick up a fit. Do what you must. And when the floods subside, we can learn to love one another. Both at our best and our worst, within and beyond Magicord.”

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul #yandere azul x reader #n/sfw

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st-danger · 10 months

Note

Saint.

Saint my beautiful, wonderful friend.

A thought. A prompt, even.

Dew in the middle of a quintessence sandwich. Aether teaching Aeon how to use his magick in all the ways Dew likes best. Showing him where and how to touch, what to say. How to manipulate his little body and worm his way into his mind. Just really fuckin' him up.

How do you think that would go?

Aether holds Dew tight against his chest, noses against his hairline and breathes his scent in while Dew moans, hips twitching and forcing his cock further into Aeon's mouth. The heat pouring off of him speaks to how worked up they have him. Jerky movements, unconscious, just an innate need to demand more. More lips around him, more tongue wiggling on the underside. Farther in. Too far, this time, and Aeon pulls off, sputtering and coughing.

"Sorry," Dew says, but doesn't sound particularly sorry to Aether at all.

Aeon recovers and seems unruffled, wipes his mouth off on the back of his hand, smiling up at Aether. At Dew, too, of course, but it's not meant for him. If only he knew that.

"Didn't you say you wanted to show me a little something?" Aeon wiggles his fingers and Dew goes still. Against his neck, Aether places a wet, sucking kiss.

"Okay?" he whispers against Dew's skin, fingertips stroking over his temple, down the side of his face. "Cool if we play?"

Dew chokes out a yes, and Aether takes a slow, deep breath and bleeds magick into him, tangling himself between every neuron in his brain.

"Touch him," Aether says, "and focus on finding me."

Aeon scrambles to sit up, cock bobbing while he does, and presses a palm to Dew's belly. Right to his core. With a deep breath in, and a slow breath out, Aeon grins, and Dew whimpers suddenly.

"Feel that?" Aether asks.

"You feel, like, electric," Aeon says, looking past Dew to meet Aether's lavender gaze. He looks so curious, so intrigued, crooked grin exaggerating the fold from the corner of his mouth to his nose. "Can you feel that?" he says to Dew.

"Yeah," Dew breathes, nodding, stomach trembling under Aeon's palm. Aethers fingers stroke against the side of his face again, and Dew whimpers, clutching frantically at the arm Aether keeps wrapped around his chest. "Makes everything feel- oh, like a lot."

"That's what I want you to try," Aether tells Aeon. "Take a deep breath and play around with the levels. As it were."

Aeon closes his eyes and when he breathes out, pushes a rush of quintessence into Dew, focuses on making everything but pleasure go silent and Dew cries out, sudden and panicked-

He's shooting all over his stomach, all over Aeon's hand, cock wagging around wildly as it spits. Knees drawing up. Aether has to laugh.

"Little much right out of the gate," he says, and Aeon looks as sorry as Dew had sounded earlier.

"Unholy shit," Aeon laughs, and ignores Dew's protests when he starts rubbing his cum all over his stomach, smearing it around. Gross. Filthy.

"Try easing into it," Aether suggests. "Give him just a hint. "

Dew's not even caught his breath, but Aeon is inside every nerve, alongside Aether, and he forces another, gentler wave of pleasure from him. His cock hasn't even had time to go soft, and it twitches while Aeon lets himself inside of the very fibre of Dew's being.

"You can just keep him like this?" Aeon asks, unable to resist getting a hand on his swollen cock. Needs to give it a nice squeeze, get some relief.

"Like what?" Aether asks, tone pleasant and conversational. Talking about Dew like he isn't there to hear him. A little more and they could make him mindless. "Cumming? Or on edge?"

"Both, I guess," Aeon says, and the tip of his tongue pokes out while he concentrates again, feeling around Dew, feeling for Aether.

"Follow my lead," Aether says.

It's interesting, watching Aeon figure it all out. It isn't like he's new to this, but this particular application certainly is unfamiliar. Like with most things, he's a quick learned with this, too, and he and Aether coordinate until they find themselves in a push-pull of forcing pleasure into him, and then easing off.

It goes on for a very, very long while.

Aether is so hard he knows he's staining his underwear. Dew gasps every time, writhes with it, squirms and moves his legs so much he accidentally kicks Aeon.

"Probably deserved that," Aeon laughs.

"Sit still," Aether admonishes.

"Cant," Dew whines. His hairline is damp with sweat. His back is wet where it meets Aether's chest. "Oh, fuck, can't- make me cum again, oh, I need to-"

"Next lesson," Aether says, and waits for Aeon's focus to come back to him, and then Dew goes limp.

Aeon's eyes go as wide as Dewdrop’s do.

"What," he whispers, "was that?"

"Now he'll stay still," Aether says, reasonably. In his arms, Dew begins to shiver, his cock wet and drooling.

"Fuck, Aether, Aeon, please," he warbles.

"You paralyze him?"

"Essentially," Aether nods, and nuzzles into Dew's neck again, to speak against his skin when he says, "he likes feeling helpless. Don't you?"

"Touch me," Dew moans, clutching at Aether and blinking up at Aeon through lashes that he hopes will clump with tears before too long.

"That it?" Aeon asks Dew, elated and unable to get his hand off himself. "You wanna lie here and be used?"

The answering moan says it all.

"Go on," Aether encourages him, fingertips still rubbing against Dew's temple. "Play around. He likes it when hes out of control." Aeon places his hands on Dew's knees, and spreads them apart. There's no resistance. Despite knowing that, actually watching it is something else entirely, and the visual has Aether biting the side of his tongue.

He moves him like he's a doll.

Aeon sucks on his index finger, and they watch as he reaches and-

Dew moans as Aeon rubs at his hole, claws digging into Aether's arm.

"Yeah?" Aeon asks, eyebrow quirked. "Sensitive there, aren't you?"

"Fuck off," Dew snaps.

"You can keep him from talking, if you want," Aether suggests, and Dew makes a noise of dissent that he and Aeon ignore. Aeon looks deep in concentration while he pushes his finger in and out the smallest bit, but it's got Dew's face bright red.

"What can I do to him?" Aeon asks Aether. Not Dew; he asks Aether. It's been so long since he's had another ghoul with the same magick skillset to play with, and he's missed it more than he wants to admit.

"A lot of things," Aether says, drawing his tongue up the shell of Dew's ear and forcing another moan from him. "Whaddya have in mind?"

Aeon leans in and kisses Dew, a quick pluck of his mouth, followed by licking a stripe up the side of his face, forcing Dew to cringe.

"Aw," Aeon says, patronizing. He gives him another quick kiss, and rubs his nose against Dew's, affectionate.

"Aeon," Dew says weakly. "It's so much, both of you-"

"I want him to struggle," Aeon says. "I like it when they fight." He kisses the tip of Dew's nose. "It's cute."

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kirain · 7 months

Text

Tav: Oh my gods ... it's happening. It's happening! Everyone, come quick!

Astarion: What the hells are you shouting about? It's barely four o'clock in the bloody morning. I know you don't get it, but I prefer to rise when the sun does.

Tav: It's the egg! It's hatching!

Shadowheart: The one you got from the githyanki crèche? You mean you still have it?

Tav: Of course! You didn't really think I'd give it to that crazy baby-snatcher, did you?

Gale: Shh, shh! Everyone, calm yourselves and be silent. I may not look it, but I know quite a bit about child-rearing. I read many books on the subject when I was Mystra's Chosen, and as I understand it, newborns require low, serene noises when they're brought into the world. Anything too stentorian could overwhelm the poor babe.

Lae'zel: That is perhaps the case for you pitiful, soft, fragile humans, but githyanki offspring are born with an innate sense of—

Tav: Quiet! It's hatching!

Narrator: The egg stirs and shakes, then cracks as the inhabitant kicks at its confines. After a few moments of struggle, the shell breaks, pieces of green and yellow debris sliding off the newborn's slender frame. Free at last, it looks up at you, is eyes narrow but full of wonder, then mews like a kitten looking for its mother.

Karlach: Ohhh-ho-ho-ho-hooo my gods! It's so cute! Look at its little feet and droopy ears! And look that that: born with a full set of tiny chompers! I want to squeeze it and never let go!

Lae'zel: Githyanki offspring are not "cute"...

Astarion: That's for damn sure. It looked like a jaundiced monkey.

Wyll: Heheh. Well, it's certainly something. It's ... well, I'm not actually sure. What is it, exactly?

Lae'zel: A soldier.

Wyll: I meant the sex.

Lae'zel: Oh. A boy.

Wyll: Welcome to the world, little man! We're going to have so much fun. I'll teach you how to use a blade and defend the innocent and—!

Shadowheart: Hold that thought, why don't you? You're getting way ahead of yourself. This is a tremendous responsibility. What do we even do? Lae'zel?

Lae'zel: What? Why are you looking at me?

Shadowheart: Because out of everyone here, I would assume a githyanki knows best how to raise a githyanki child.

Lae'zel: I know nothing of raising hatchlings. It's not my place.

Shadowheart: Lady Shar protect us ... and this child.

Tav: Don't be so defeatist. We'll be fine!

Gale: Absolutely. How hard can it be? An infant is an infant. He's probably hungry, so let's tackle that problem first. Come here, little one!

Lae'zel: I wouldn't—

Narrator: Gale reaches down and scoops the young hatchling into his arms. At first the creature seems confused, pensive even. Then, its pupils shrink, its teeth clenching. It growls like a caged animal and claws at the wizard's face. Luckily for him, it misses, but the battle is far from over. In a rage, the creature twists its body, then sinks its teeth into Gale's hand, latching onto it in a fit of fury.

Gale: Ow, ow, ow! Aaaugh!

Lae'zel: Typical.

Narrator: Gale attempts to shake the vicious newborn off, waving his arm up and down like a madman, but to no avail. The creature holds steadfast, almost mockingly.

Gale: A hand would be very much appreciated!

Karlach: Ask the babe. He already has an extra one.

Everyone: *Laughs*

Astarion: Well ... I wasn't too keen on the idea at first, but perhaps keeping the creepy little morsel around isn't such a bad idea after all.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #tav #bg3 tav #astarion #gale of waterdeep #lae'zel #shadowheart #wyll ravengard #karlach #githyanki

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baddieladdie · 26 days

Text

♡ Companion Shorts ♡

Fallout companions react to depressed vault dweller

Rating: Teen

Part 1 of 2 Charon ➼ Arcade Gannon ➼ Hancock ➼ Nick Valentine ➼ Deacon

Charon [FO3]

"What are you doing?" Charon grumbled from behind you, annoyed at the sudden stop in broad daylight. The view was nice from this vantage point, but it also meant they were in clear view of any hidden antagonists.

The burden of your loneliness beckons you to the ground. You fall to your knees, though the weight off your legs does nothing for heaviness in your spirit.

Why? You didn't know why.

Perhaps you had been too optimistic. Believed so wrongly that you could bring change to the wasteland. Or at least bring some minor degree of improvement. It was futile, all along. The wasteland was ever hungry, taking everything it was given and reducing it to rubbish. Even with the few good deeds done, the Talon company just kept sending mercenaries to kill you for the very slight of fighting the good fight. No good deed goes unpunished, right?

You look down the chasm below, half-hearted imagining your mutilated body on the rocks. Would even your death make a difference? Or would it just be one more life taken by the wastes?

"Hey," A familiar firm hand gripped your shoulder, "It's not safe here."

Tension swelled up in your sinuses as you shrugged his hand off. You clenched your hands together, digging your nails into the palm of your hand. The subtle pain was refreshing against the agony in your mind.

Charon was a victim even before the bombs fell; a constant reminder that humanity was corrupt well before apocalypse. Perhaps you really weren't so separated from the innate evil nature in the human spirit. You relied on Charon in nearly every fire fight. Taking advantage of his experience and strength through a contract you knew was akin to slavery. He obeyed every command, helped with every request. Never questioning you for a moment and always risking his life. You felt sickened on your reliance on that bloody contract. You should be finding a way to free him, and yet....where would that leave you? Dead? And what future what that be? Dead now or just dead later...

Charon grumbled as he sat beside you on the chasm's edge. He had seen ages pass, experienced more agony than he could ever be bothered to explain. For some employers, he'd leave them to their devices. But you? You are one of the few bastards crazy enough to help others selflessly in the wasteland. Even if wasteland was utterly indifferent to your efforts, it certainly be a darker place without the hope you brought others with each intentional good dead. Their very existence showed a brighter side of humanity that was a rarity in dark times.

"Tell me what troubles you," Charon's familiar gravelly voice was laced with an unfamiliar tone of... genuine concern?

"I just," You sigh heavily. "I don't know how much longer I can keep going on like this."

"I've wondered the same thing myself." Charon nodded with an empty stare.

You felt a pang of guilt at the possibility of bringing up painful memories for him.

Charon continued hesitantly. "I feel I must remind you; I am honor bound to keep you safe. From threats and, if necessary, from yourself"

"I don't want t-"

Before you can finish your thought, Charon scoops you up into his arms and walks you away from the ledge. "You need to be more careful," He complained. "You won't make a difference out here if you're dead."

He carries on walking through the awkward silence. "We passed a shelter not far from here. We could rest until you feel ready to continue again. We could uh, listen to that radio broadcast you like you so much."

"Maybe play game?" you tease.

"Don't push your luck, kid."

-Charon carries you to the shelter where he watches over you diligently until the worst of your depression episode passes-

Arcade [FNV]

You stare blankly at the ceiling above. Small particles of dust lazily hung in the air of the abandoned cabin you and Arcade took shelter in a few days ago. You really should leading the charge back out into the Mojave, but you simply couldn't find the energy to do so. Therefore, you simply rested.

Arcade knocked on the door and patiently waited for a response you couldn't be bothered to provide.

"Alright, guess I'm just going to let myself in then. I'll give you to the count of three," Arcade raised his voice from behind the wooden slat door. "You better be decent by then." you head him mumble.

Arcade cracked open the door, peering around to see your still body in the same position as when he gave you a mug of coffee hours before.

"In another one of our spells, are we?" His sarcasm brought you little comfort.

"Sorry. I just lose my heads sometimes," you sigh with a heavy heart.

"If by 'sometimes' you mean 'a lot of times', I agree. Please just....go easy on yourself, okay?"

You nodded, the vague emptiness you felt threatening to swallow you whole. Taking everything with it 'til you couldn't feel nothing at all.

"This is worse than before, isn't it?" Arcade pulled up a chair next to you. It creaked under his weight as he sat down. "Was it something I said?"

You shook your head. "No, nothing like that. I'm just....tired, Arcade. I'm fine, really." You gave a meager fake smile, hoping to appease the kindly doctor.

"Mmhm," Arcade paused for a beat. "Is that all?"

You could have sworn you were just tired, but now that you think about it, there were some troubles on your mind. Arcade waited patiently for you to open him to him about it. He did enjoy lengthy conversations more than most and always had his opinions ready.

"Ready to get back out there?"

"All right, let's not waste any time!" Arcade rested his doctor's bag on a shoulder, the enthusiasm in his voice giving away his excitement. "There are people out there to help, things to learn. Maybe not in that order, but let's get to it!"

Hancock [FO4]

Hancock chuckled, lounging on the couch next to you in the old state house. "I don't buy that shit for a minute." He shook his head, "No way, you can't fool me, sister/brother." He casually rested his hand on your thigh, immediately drawing your attention to him. "It hasn't been easy transition ya, has it?"

Your eyes began to water as Hancock looked you over with care. He nodded slowly with genuine understanding, "I didn't think so. No one should have to go through what you've been through." He gave your hand a little squeeze. "Ya always give me hope for brighter future. Cause I get to have you in my life." He smiled, "Cause the odds, it's practically impossible our paths would ever meet. I mean, you're pre-war, baby. The freshest smoothskin around and you wanna be a drugged out, dragged out ghoul?! That's how I know all that karma shit is bull, 'cause there is no way someone like you could ever end up with me."

You granted him a half-smile with the compliment. But the mayor didn't quite seem to grasp yet that you had burdens, very real and unconventionally heavy emotional baggage. Not that there was a trauma competition in nuclear wasteland, but you would have at least won a medal in most-fucked psyche. Your smooth nature stopped at skin level.

"It's been a Hell of road that brought us together, but aren't I glad I took up with you? 'Cause this person," Hancock paused, waiting patiently until you returned his gaze before continuing, " - the one I'm looking at right now. They're the one I love. I don't want to be without them ever again."

You wince slightly, his words a little too sweet. "You sure about this, Hancock? I mean, with everything I've been through...." You sigh heavily, your chest falling. "People are going to talk, Mayor" You give him a sly look, knowing how he enjoyed the occasional call to his title.

"Can't say I care much about what others think. Half the opinions out there aren't worth listening to anyway. The only opinion I care about, is yours." He grinned.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Are you sure?" "You kidding me? So long as I got you at my side, it doesn't matter the capacity. I'm with you all the way, rain or shine" "You're a damn fine man, Hancock. I'm lucky to have you at my back." "And God help any of 'em who get in our way."

Nick Valentine [FO4]

"In my line of work, you usually see folks at their worst. I can tell there's something troubling you. You want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly." You grumble. You swirled with antagonistic emotions, unable to tell where one pain started and the other ended. Guess that's just what happens after you go through one too many impossible tragedies. Losing the love of your life and child alone was unimaginable. Your years of service in the U.S. army gave you the 'gift' of surviving the nuclear attacks that transformed your home and country to a primitive wasteland. You've always tried to make the best decisions possible for your family. But if you hadn't signed up for Vault 101, would you have died peacefully alongside your love? Would that have been better? You stared into your hands, agonizing over the conversation you had with the Vault-tec sales rep.

"Not enough people out here are willing to try and do what's right. I consider myself awful lucky I fell in with one who is," Nick paused, the smoke from his cigarette seeping from the metal cracks in his feature. He glanced around the Boston shore, checking for any ne'er-do-wells. But the coast was clear, perhaps due to their combat efforts earlier that day. He cleared his throat, and continued with some insistence, "If there is something bothering you, I'd like to be the one to help lighten the load. I happen to know a thing or two about find yourself after losing the life you thought you had."

"Thanks, Nick," You snap out of momentarily. The Boston harbor air was foul. You couldn't escape the reality you were in, no matter how you tried. The smells, the sounds, the food - none of it was familiar. "I'll be fine. I just don't sleep well." That wasn't much of a lie. Whenever you try to sleep, the memory of your love screaming your name returned. Their blood painting the inside of their frozen coffin while you watched helpless from inside your own. When you eventually fell asleep, the unfamiliar sounds of gunfire, screams of terror from the wasteland, and shouts of mutants would wake you. It was all just too much.

"I think it's time we take a break from the case, friend."

"What?!" You jump up from the bench, "We can't stop now! Not with the progress we've made!"

Nick flinched in surprise, but quickly settled to a concerned frown. "You haven't been yourself lately. We-," Nick sighed, committing to genuine honesty as he often did. "Partner, I need you at your best to solve this case. Come on, let's go back to the agency. I'll review the case files and you get some rest."

You look away, anger and guilt fuming within you. "I don't feel much like resting, Nick. I want to finish this."

Nick let your words marinate in the pregnant silence. "Is that what you want? To 'finish' this?" He gripped a metal hand your shoulder and looked down into your eyes. "I understand, you must feel angry. You have every right to be. But hurting others won't bring them back."

You simply couldn't hold it in anymore. Tears of grief, rage, and pain streamed hotly down your face, pooling at the apex of your chin. Nick pulled you into a tight embrace, rubbing your back as you cried into his signature detective trench coat.

"I'm sorry, friend. Truly."

Deacon [FO4]

You take a long drag off your cigarette, savoring that ever-so-familiar lightheadedness. The weather was shit, as it always was in Boston. Cloudy, and damp. You wrapped your cloak a little tighter around yourself, but it didn't do you much good. The bitter cold you felt reached deeper than your bones and left you frozen to your core. Just an icy fraction of the vibrant person you were before. Before you lost everything you had fought for, everything that had mattered to you. It all was gone. And along with it, any reason to carry on.

You exhaled slowly, watching your frozen breath drift aimlessly away from your cracked lips. Deacon watched quietly from aside, nursing a chilled Nuka-cola. He cleared his throat awkwardly. Genuine words never did come easily to him. Deacon had always found it more comfortable to flirtatiously avoid the truth. Kept him safe from every getting hurt....and ever making close friends. Deacon, being a loner himself, recognized the loneliness you dwelled in.

"I know what I feels like to wear a mask. That kind of protection only ambiguity can give you. But really - are you feeling okay? Cause you can talk to me"

"Another one of your little lies?" You sigh, tapping the ash off the butt of your cigarette.

"No, not this time," Deacon kept an uncharacteristically straight face

You pause, stirred by the sincerity present in Deacon's voice. He loved the way lies could crack your usual composure. You watch his expression carefully, checking for any usual hint of his usual mischievous nature. But all that saw on his face was genuine concern for a companion he cared deeply about.

"Well, look who's acting out of character now," you tease. "Thanks, Deacon. I appreciate that. And I'll be fine. It just, uh...." you take in a deep breath. "It takes time, building up this new life. Making these new memories. Building these new relationships. Just sometimes, I uh, miss my old life. My old friends. Sometimes I see something, and I just know my spouse would have loved to see it."

"I know. But we'll stop the Insititute. For them."

"Right," You nod, filled with determination. "For them."

To.Be.Continued...

#hurt/comfort #fallout companions #fo3 charon #fnv arcade #arcade gannon #nick valentine #fo4 hancock #fallout 4 #fallout #fanfic writer #companion shorts #charon #john hancock #fo4 deacon

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bumpkinspice0 · 11 months

Text

Parallels: Chapter 3

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!FemReader

No use of y/n

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI!!!)

Word Count: 1400

Summary:Miguel was consuming your every thought and it's becoming an issue. You wonder if he's having the same problem.

Warnings: Smut- Male (Shower) masturbation, Sexual frustration, Pinning, tension, Angsy as hell, learn a little more about reader's life, J. Jonah Jameson is in every universe Notes: I just realized I never said that the 'shared spider-sense' theme of this fic is entirely inspired by the relationship between Peter Parker and Cindy Moon, or more commonly known as Silk. They were both bitten by the same spider and share a spider sense, making them drawn to each other and ALSO able to track the other through the multi-verse. Silk is a an awesome spider character. 10/10 recommend checking out her comics (But I say that about every comic) I'm not sure Miguel and readers connection will be exaaaactly the same since they literally couldn't have been bitten by the same spider, but yeah. This is a totally cannon thing spider people can do 😅

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Series Masterlist

AO3

Chapter 3

On My Mind

The restaurant was busier than you’d like, but really everywhere in this city was. Busier just meant louder, and louder meant earplugs for you. After having advanced hearing for nearly a decade you’d gotten used to it by now. You didn’t want to spend all night asking people to repeat themselves because you could over-hear everything that was happening in the restaurant. Right now you just wanted to be with your friends— unfortunately, your mind kept drifting elsewhere.

Since you returned to your dimension 3 days ago, Miguel has consumed your every waking thought. Your daily hero life was suffering for it. You lost 2 robbers last night and missed a car chase this morning because you were too stuck in your own head. You were never one to get distracted on the job— and by a guy no less.

I should have stayed in the training room. I should have stayed longer and maybe we could have…

You’re not entirely sure what would have happened, honestly. This was uncharted territory. Some undefined connection only between the two of you? An innate sensation that drove you to horny madness. It sounded like a bad comic book plot. You’d probably had weirder things happen in your nearly 10-year-long spider career but this was by far the most frustrating.

Just the thought of him invaded your every sense. The deep rumble of his voice. His distinctive, rich smell— Like red wine. The taste he left in your mouth.

You wanted him. You wanted him so badly, and you hated how much you wanted him. You didn’t even know anything about him.

Fuck Miguel O’Hara and whatever the fuck he was doing to you.

But Miguel was a Spider-Woman problem.

Tonight you didn’t want to be Spider-Woman. You wanted to forget your interdimensional side gig and the broody, gigantic man that was driving you insane. Tonight you just wanted to be a good friend— and you were failing miserably at that too.

Your best friend Jack wrangled his boyfriend, Ash, and your college friend Sue to come out for drinks and your mind couldn’t be further away.

“Hey, space cadet!” Jack snaps his fingers directly in front of your face. You’d been staring at the same potted plant across the room for probably 5 minutes now. You crash back to maddening reality.

“Sorry, what?” you reenter whatever the conversation was now with a pitiful smile.

“Ash asked what’s new at the paper,” Jack repeats the question you never heard. He gives you a worried look. Jack knew about your double life. He’d known you for so long now, you couldn’t hide anything from him. He'd catch it whenever something was slightly amiss before you could even articulate a single word— thus why he lined up this friend's night in the first place. You’d been reclusive since you’d joined the multiverse.

“Oh, at the Bugle?” You take a generous swig of your cocktail, “Jameson’s still behind on the times, I think. Keeps trying to push papers instead of giving our digital department more funding. I’m still only making stuff for print. Like, do you even remember the last time you even read from a newspaper?”

“Honestly, I don’t think I ever have.” Ash snorts.

“Maybe in high school,” Sue taps her chin, “And even then it was for like an assignment.”

“People still need paper-mache supplies!” Jack interjects.

“Hey!” you playfully shove him, “That’s my entire industry you’re shitting on, sir!”

“Oh, so you’re defending the infamous J. Jonah Jameson now?”

“I’m but a lowly graphic designer,” you clarify, “The only thing he wants me to do with his precious paper is not look too much like The Times .”

You’d landed your job at The Daily Bugle in college. An internship turned full-time staff position. You’d gotten Jack some freelance work there on the side. He was seemingly the only photographer that could get a halfway decent picture of the mysterious Spider-Woman. He always gave you a small cut of whatever Jamason was willing to shell out. You didn’t know how to work a camera for crap, but you knew how to pose for a picture.

The evening rolls on with a pleasant demeanor. It was nice to be talking to non-spider people. To listen to the casual ramblings of your friend's completely ordinary lives. That new bitch at work or their mother calling one too many times a day. You envied them, honestly. It’s been so long since you could just simply live . This night out was a small taste of what you’d been missing. Connection.

And, of course, it gets ruined.

The nearby wail of sirens penetrates through your foam earplugs. They were maybe 3 blocks away. Once you hear it, you can’t unhear it. All conversations fall dead in your ears, your focus now entirely on the possible imminent danger to your city. The sirens are getting further away now.

A vibration from your phone in your pocket catches your attention. You check it under the table. A text from Jack.

‘Sidejob thing?’

He always texted you in code about Spider-Woman business. He must have seen your face go placid, even though he can’t hear the distant sirens. You give him a faint nod across the table and he glances to the door— His silent message loud and clear.

What are you waiting for? Go.

You know Jack did his best to understand, even if he never truly could. You had a duty. It wasn’t just a job, but who you were. You could never just stand idly by.

You quickly make an excuse about forgetting a deadline and shimmy out of the booth, leaving a few bucks for your meal. So much for no Spider-Woman tonight.

____

Fuck you. Get out of my head.

It had become his mantra for the last few days— of course, it didn’t help anything, but cursing you gave him some minor vindication.

He found himself in the shower 20 minutes longer than usual, attempting to give himself some kind of relief. The thought of you waiting on your knees for him clawed at his mind. He stroked his painfully hard cock to the image, now forever burned into his retinas.

He never got distracted. It wasn’t in his nature. He prided himself on being the best leader he possibly could be. Attentive, knowledgeable, a team player— and for the most part, he was. Now you had come and thrown a wrench into all of that.

He should have known from the first time he saw you this would be a problem. It caught him completely off guard, but how could he have been prepared for… whatever this was? He was in the midst of building an empire, and there you were, as casual as ever— and so clearly just as confused as he was. A spider-sense suddenly manifesting? Ridiculous.

As soon as you locked eyes, he knew this was all because of you.

God, you were beautiful.

There had been few times he let his instincts take hold of him. He’d made himself into an apex predator in search of his spider abilities— he had to hold himself to a different standard than the rest of you. He was dangerous, and whatever this connection is, was dangerous in turn.

He couldn’t control it, not yet anyway. And seemingly, you couldn’t either. You were both prey to your most primal desires and irresistibly drawn to the other to satisfy them.

He couldn’t escape your assault on all of his senses. He was fixated on you in every way imaginable. Your smell, your voice, your looks— your taste.

He cums to the memory of your soft thighs squeezing his head. He heaves shaky breath after shaky breath, trying to gather his composure. It was hollow, fleeting relief. He can’t help but think you could have made it better— He knows you’d have made it better. He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the foggy glass and is immediately disgusted with himself.

He’d never been this way before. You were part of his team, a fellow hero that decided to join his league. He was your boss, for lack of a better term. This couldn’t go on. At least not the way it was currently.

He needed answers.

He was a scientist. It was time to do some research.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099

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shadowqueenjude · 7 months

Text

One moment, Azriel was seated. The next, he’d blasted through Eris’s shield with a flare of blue light and tackled him backward, wood shattering beneath them. “Shit,” Cassian spat, and was instantly there— And met a wall of blue. Azriel had sealed them in, and as his scarred hands wrapped around Eris’s throat, Rhys said, “Enough.” Azriel squeezed, Eris thrashing beneath him. No physical brawling—there had been a rule against that, but Azriel, with whatever power those shadows gave him … “Enough, Azriel,” Rhys ordered. Perhaps those shadows that now slid and eddied around the shadowsinger hid him from the wrath of the binding magic. The others made no move to interfere, as if wondering the same. Azriel dug his knee—and all his weight—into Eris’s gut. He was silent, utterly silent as he ripped the air from Eris’s body. Beron’s flames struck the blue shield, over and over, but the fire skittered off and fizzled out on the water. Any that escaped were torn to shreds by shadows. Azriel only said coldly, “If Lucien kills Graysen, then good riddance.”

Silence fell again. Azriel nodded at her. “What happened to you?” She knew what he meant: the black eye that was finally fading. Her hands and chin had healed, along with the bruising on her body, but the black eye had turned greenish. By tomorrow morning, it’d be gone entirely. “Nothing,” she said without looking at Cassian. “She fell down the stairs,” Cassian said, not looking at her, either. Azriel’s silence was pointed before he asked, “Did someone … push you?” “Asshole,” Cassian growled. Nesta lifted her eyes from her plate enough to note the amusement in Azriel’s gaze, even though no smile graced his sensuous mouth. Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, “There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.” “If they’re under a spell from Briallyn or Koschei,” Feyre asked, “then is it right to harm them like this?” The question echoed through the chamber, over the snarling of the hungry beasts. Rhys said after a moment, “No. It isn’t.” Amren said to Feyre, “The fog around their minds and the fact that they endured Azriel’s ministrations without showing an understanding of anything beyond basic pain at least confirms our suspicions.” “If that’s how you wish to justify it,” Feyre said a tad coldly, “then fine.”

"He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night. Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep." "She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open that he knew she had no idea that he had done unspeakable things that sullied his hands far beyond their scars. Such terrible things that it was a sacrilege for his fingers to touch her skin, tainting her with his presence. But he could have this moment. This one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it." "Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them." "This was a mistake." "The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another." "I think Lucien will never be good enough for her, and she has no interest in him, anyway." "He hadn't gotten that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself too." "I'll defeat him with little effort." "He'd been so vigilant about keeping away from Elain as much as possible, and had stayed up here to avoid her, and tonight... tonight had proved he'd been right to do so." Why do people think Azriel is decent? I don't think he's good enough for Elain OR Nesta. I actually think he's a fucking creep.

#anti azriel #anti e/riel #anti nezriel #elucien #neris

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skz-streamer · 8 months

Text

Changbin As Reminders

Simptober Reminders M-list

Pairing: Changbin (skz) x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff ;))))

Warnings: mention of food

Notes: wahhh, Chanbin if def the type to somehow memorize your schedule better then you, who needs the reminders app when you have him! <33333 tbh i dint rlly like this too much but its okayyyyyy

-please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people

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"Make sure to turn in that report!"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You were comfortably nestled on the couch, engrossed in the TV show that had captured your full attention. The plot twists and dramatic dialogue had you completely absorbed, and you hardly noticed anything else around you. In your own little world of suspense and entertainment, you lost track of time.

Then, out of the blue, your phone buzzed, causing you to jump slightly in surprise. You glanced at the screen and realized it was a message from Changbin. This was unusual; he was usually in his own world when he was out with the boys, not bothering with his phone.

Curious, you clicked on the message, and your heart sank as you read the words: "Make sure to turn in that report!"

Oh no, you thought, your eyes widening in realization. You had completely forgotten about that report! Panic started to creep in as you wondered how you could have overlooked such an important task.

With a sense of urgency, you quickly typed out a response, trying to sound as composed as possible despite your racing heart. "Yeup! Working on it right now, thanks, Binnie!!"

In reality, you weren't working on it at all. In fact, you had forgotten that the report even existed. But you couldn't bear the thought of disappointing Changbin, who had always been so supportive and understanding.

You hurriedly pulled out your laptop and started to work on the report, your fingers typing furiously as you tried to make up for lost time. The minutes ticked away, and as the deadline loomed closer, you could feel the pressure mounting.

But somehow, with a surge of determination and a little bit of luck, you managed to complete the report just ten minutes before it was due. You let out a sigh of relief, feeling a sense of accomplishment wash over you.

As you submitted the report, you couldn't help but smile. Sometimes, Changbin's unexpected messages were like a timely wake-up call, reminding you of your responsibilities. You were grateful for his support, even when he didn't realize he was providing it

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The morning sun painted a soft glow across your bedroom as you lay wrapped in the comfort of your cozy blanket, still lost in the embrace of sleep. The world outside was already buzzing with activity, but in your haven of dreams, you were blissfully unaware.

As you enjoyed the last moments of rest, your phone chimed, breaking the tranquil morning silence. It was a message from Changbin, your thoughtful and caring boyfriend who was already heading to work. The message read, "Don't forget to turn in that report!" A warm feeling of gratitude washed over you as you read his message. He knew your schedule so well that he even remembered the little details of your work assignments.

You couldn't help but marvel at how he seemed to have an innate knowledge of your day-to-day life. You swore that you had only mentioned the report assignment once, and even then, it was only in passing. His attention to your needs and his ability to remember the things that mattered to you never ceased to amaze you.

With a soft smile, you reached for your phone and texted back, "Thank you, Bin," adding a heart emoji to convey the depth of your appreciation. His simple yet considerate gesture had already made your day brighter.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Changbin was on tour, and you missed him terribly. The distance between you two seemed insurmountable at times, but he always had a way of making you feel closer, even when he was miles away. He made it a habit to send you little love messages, reminders that he was thinking of you and that he was there, even in the midst of his busy schedule.

What amazed you the most was how he managed to time his messages perfectly. Despite being in different time zones, he always seemed to text you good night exactly at your bedtime, and his replies were lightning-fast, as if he had an uncanny sense of when you needed him the most.

One day, as you were engrossed in work, your phone chimed with a message from Changbin. "Don't forget to turn in that report!" it read. Your eyes widened in amazement. How did he know about the assignment that was due in just an hour? It was almost as if he had some kind of sixth sense.

Playfully, you texted him back, "Excuse me, sir, how did you know I have an assignment due?" The mystery of how he always seemed to know what was happening in your life fascinated you.

His reply came quickly, "Oh! I just know, don't worry about it, bun!"

You couldn't help but smile at his response. Changbin had a way of making you feel loved and cared for, no matter the distance. His ability to be there for you, even from afar, was something you cherished deeply.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Tags: @eee5533 @mixtape-racha @cherry-edibles @ren0325 @felixvsp @hwangrimi @sanriiolino @painstakingly-juno @herarcadewasteland @dabiscrustyfeet @kai-jilee @sungiesoonie @slvtty4channiee @revelaffee @buckys-pillow, @staygirl86 @chlodavids @jinnie-ret @bbygrlhannie @rebecca-johnson-28 @turtledove824 @interstellarairwaves @yearofthetiger25 @minhos4thkitty @fiqire @backintomykpopphaseagain @liknws @tinyelfperson @aaasia111 @yangbbokari

#changbin x reader #skz changbin #changbin x y/n #changbin stray kids #changbin fic #seo changbin #changbin x you #changbin fanfic #stray kids changbin #changbin #changbin fluff #changbin x female reader #skz seo changbin #stray kids seo changbin #changbin fake texts #skz fluff #stray kids fluff

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quirrrky · 1 year

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PICK A PINK FROM ABOVE 1 → 2 → 3 〔MASTERLIST • OTHER PACS〕

Let's discover how your HAIKYUU hubby will pursue you, win you over and take your heart away! ♡ Happy Heart’s Day, my loves 🫶!

1.Close your eyes and think of your HAIKYUU s/o and focus on the pictures above. 2. Select which one your eyes guide you into. You may choose a different heart per character. 3. Go under the cut to find your scenario! Fall in love!

Fan girl with me! I’d love to know which pile you picked and who is your hq s/o!

♡ This shall not be reproduced, reposted, modified, translated in any form or by any means.

cards

TBH I can't even begin this reading because where to start? There's a lot! IG it can feel this way for you both. Like you know it, you feel it, but you can't exactly explain what's happening. Judgment card came out and perhaps this is where this innate knowing is coming from. You'll both just know you were meant for each other, and probably have a future together right off the bat. At the very back of your head, you'll get that strong hunch. This is even out of topic but it's the front and center of everything. Because of this, your hq s/o might act like he's already your boyfriend or spouse. That's how he'll pursue you. He'll give you the ultimate husband experience even though you're not even giving him your yes yet.

You'll feel pursued by him, but to him he's simply being the way he is the way he wants to show you how much he loves you...likes to be with you. With all the cards here showing what he feels, thinks and how he is as a lover, I guess, pining for you...showing you that he loves you is as natural for him as breathing air.

See...almost all of your cards shows the man behind the woman. I perceive that he will always got your back. If you need an ally, a confidant, an extra hand he will all be that person in one. I can see him saying, "I can handle this. I got you." Then kisses your forehead....Aaaah! Anyway, he'll be very dependable and might have that take-charge persona. On the other hand, he will also be especially soft for you—emotionally open and understanding. He'll make you feel nurtured, cared for and comfortable. Big cuddle energy. I feel like he'll have difficulties controlling himself from hugging you or touching you in anyway. He can be touchy. This man requires a ton of physical touch, but since you aren't official yet and he's still convincing you to be his, he'll curb himself so bad...but you'll notice him talking very close to your face, placing his hand at the small of your back...He'll be physically attracted to you. I'm seeing it's the both of you, actually. You might dirty joke around each other often. To you, it's prolly just a joke, but to him, it's a different story. I told you this guy's into physical touch as a way of expressing love, so...Let's just focus on the aspect of it like frequently and lovingly running his hand over your head before we go NSFW.

Augh...I perceive that he'll worship you. The type to bring you on fancy flirty dinner dates, movie screenings and he'll act like he's been doing this for you since your past lives' marriage. Helps you with whatever you need. Gives you whatever you want if he can, why not? He might always come up with gifts for you everytime you'll meet. Two cards pop out talking about money. This guy will spoil you like it's nobody's business yet he'll also tie your shoes, fix your hair, paint your nails, treat you to a relaxing day spa...Name it, baby.

Emotionally expressive (mostly through touch ngl), gift giver and always at your service...A wish coming true? He's just too good to be true. I was even tempted to reshuffle this pile because I can't believe what I'm seeing. You might think he's scamming you or he's just playing around, love bombing you and all. You might doubt his intentions. You might think...What did I ever do to deserve this? Why does he love me so much?

I wonder the same, we got the same pile anyway! I already told you. He'll just know you're the one. He might have had a bad relationship before and you, appearing in his life, are the fruit of every lesson he's ever learned from the past. Finally, he met someone whom he can share his life with. He'll know. He'll just know. You'll probably get the same cognition towards him too. Around him, you can show who you truly are without pretending to be someone else...just that easy, effortless comfort. Release is what I've perceived...we just gotta let it go and flow, because this love's the one you've been yearning for after all.

If you're still wondering...Your s/o can't get you off his mind. He always thinks of you. You might notice this by him constantly hitting your DMs, because he misses you uwu...IDK, I guess sometimes you might think he can be a little smothering ngl. He might constantly remind you to eat on-time, etc...but I really sense a very loving and tender energy around him. I'm getting the feeling like I wanna melt in his arms and snuggle close! This could be how he's been feeling! Perhaps, you too! I bet he gives the best hugs. It suddenly came to me, that there's gonna be something so soft and dear in the way he'll look at you.

Srsly, I better stop now. Me stopping myself like this. Do you know that I've been trying to get one card per draw only, but two cards kept popping that's why I surrendered and got those extra cards that came through. I really do sense that your hq s/o has so much love to express that it overflows.

Okay now, just go listen to the songs that was shuffled through while I was writing for you to know how much he's pining for you.

late night talking - harry styles shinunoga e-wa - fuji kaze adore you - harry styles how do I make you love me - the weeknd

flower, heart-racing, i love you, giving back, stargazing, proposal, i miss you, netfli and chill, I see something that reminds me of you everywhere I go, you mean the world to me

▎There will be a special N/SFW version to be posted on Saturday in my adults-only blog. ASK/DM me this emoji (🍆) to be added to the taglist lmao

cards

I can see here that your hq s/o likes to look at you whenever you aren't looking...most of you here, he could be an introvert or leaning more towards being such a shy boi... He might have had some trust issues that stops him from coming forward too quickly. Another reason I'm seeing is...this guy thinks you're way too out of his league. Like how can someone like you fall for someone like him??? Sometimes, he can't also bear the hard beating in his chest whenever he gets caught in his feelings. He's so much head over heels for you. This man is totally your secret admirer! He's definitely the type to write you letters, leave little gifts on your desk/inside your locker.

He'll probably dedicate a song for you too. If he ain't a good singer...it can be creating a playlist dedicated for you in which the songs contain the feelings he has for you in the lyrics. deffo the type to look after you. Whenever he'll pass by you and you're carrying something heavy or smth, in general, he'll volunteer to take care of those stuff for you. I can see him following you around and he has that cute uwu face whenever he's casting a glance at you. So soft energy for real. He might even wait for you outside of your building so he can walk you home..carry the umbrella for you and bring you smth whenever you're sick. He'll run to the store for your favorite food just to cheer you up. He loves to gently run his fingers through your hair.

I'm also seeing that if you have someone against you or you're being *bullied. He'll stand by you no matter what others would say. You might have other suitors aside from him and this man, I'm telling you, this man will fight for you. At his first shot though, you might overlook him or at the very moment you're crushing on him, he might be too coward/oblivious/dense to come forward. I see him coming back to win you ten times over. He'll sweep you off your feet before you even know it. Though this can be quite a slow burn, he'll be your stronghold in darkest of times and you can trust this guy to always be at your beck and call as he so much love for you he can't even explain it.

ilysb - lany the feels - twice fly me to the moon - frank sinatra

over the moon, playlists, documentaries, I can't be the person you need me to be right now, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me, intimate, love letters, my heart beats so fast whenever I see you

▎There will be a special N/SFW version to be posted on Saturday in my adults-only blog. ASK/DM me this emoji (🍆) to be added to the taglist lmao

cards

This one! Why am I getting that your hq s/o's way of pursuing you is choosing you over the other "person". Hey! He will break up with his current s/o just because he finds himself uncannily drawn to you. NGL! You might not return his feelings at the onset or might hide your crush on him because he's taken but...I don't know he will choose you no matter how you hide your feelings for him.

There are two scenarios here:

ONE! Could be you're his best friend, whom he sees platonically, until he got a new boo and realized that he/she couldn't compare to you. He'll find himself searching for you in him/her. I know such he's such a dumbass but your hq s/o will break up with his current s/o after realizing how damn stupid he has been all this time.

TWO! He could be currently in a relationship until you. I don't see you flirting with him back or anything. It's just...it's him.

Common ground. He'll break-up with his current s/o for you. That's the most decent thing he can do and he knows it. I'm seeing that he got into this current relationship with someone else without the intention of being serious himself that's why he can break it off easily. I don't see him to be getting with his current s/o thinking about marriage and stuff. More of a fling, tbh.

But with you...Oh, hell, yes...with you! He wants to propose to you. You and him have the same amount of passion in your pursuits that's why you're the one whom he can see himself spending the rest of his life with. If you're resonating more with being his best friend. I can see that the passion you have in your dreams is the energy he can't find in anyone else that's when he knew he made a big mistake overlooking your presence.

It might not come across as very pleasing to you at first that's why he'll take his time to be best friends with you for the meantime until the time is right for the both of you to be together.

I can see him getting to know you better. This guy would send you memes and do goofy stuff just to see you smile and laugh. He'll take you on a lot of dates. I'm seeing adventurous type of dates like amusement parks, the beach and long drives. He would be such a cutie pie! 🥹 Your reading makes me all giggly and giddy. He'll make you feel the same way! I just know it. He'll be very cheesy that you wouldn't be able to wipe that silly ugly grin off your face around him. He'll be your partner in crime 🥷and I'll see you being each other's best friend even until your married life (if you want to get married)

harleys in hawaii - katy perry as it was - harry styles physical - dua lipa

lazy cuddles, best friends, you make feel like the luckiest person in the world, workout, I want to marry you one day, desserts, I was made to love you

▎There will be a special N/SFW version to be posted on Saturday in my adults-only blog. ASK/DM me this emoji (🍆) to be added to the taglist lmao

REBLOGS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED ♡ Please help me reach other viewers. Thank you so so much!

COLLECTIONS: Haikyuu ✧ DAYDREAM MUSEUM

🧁: @tetszume @0rodi0 @iwaplant @namjin2004 @amarinthe @kenmakai @musicshylover @chewiverse @bakugossanity @chewiverse @sugardaddyreo @tobuo @devilsukuna @@savantsoulfinders @hortensiyas @kenmaslov3r @alfi-ry @discountkiyoko @duhsies @cuddlysoftbear @hello0i @jahnvi-d @jovi-ayer @putmeinyourdeathnote @riniackerman @d1lfluvr @dayedreams @toshibaby @nao-cchi @tobibam @toshiswifey @icecappa @close222u @itsmeaudrieee @shrimpy109 @taurus852 @ebiharachan @xoxosweets1 @your-girl-mj @alexaizawa @kuroosexuall @adreamofleftoveromens

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