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mee-op · 9 months

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Facts about in-game Yuu (Twisted Wonderland):

NOTES:

This is an ongoing list and will be updated with new information. I'm not caught up w/ chap 6 and I'm not very perceptive. This list is so long because of all the people who commented/sent asks, so thank you Last but not least, some of these might be a stretch/be slightly incorrect so bare w/ me plz :] More Yuu facts [ ONE / TWO ] <- not mine

They've been good friends with Heartslabyul ever since Book 1.

They're forgiving/don't hold any bad blood with the people who've overblotted (at least on the outside).

According to the Harveston event, they can play the flute.

They don't like mentioning that they might return to their world (Deuce's Wishing Star vignette).

Many people consider them a "goody-two-shoes" (Leona, Ruggie).

A good listener.

Based on Malleus' interactions with them, Yuu talks to him a lot more off-screen as he states that he values their opinions.

Loves Grim to hell and back.

It's implied that Yuu invites Malleus over frequently enough that he visits unprompted.

They can be snarky and brutally honest when they're pushed into it.

Comes up with stupid plans that nobody believes will work but it somehow does.

They're insecure about not having any magic.

They want to be able to help their friends.

Has a sense of self-preservation.

Does not actively seek out danger (*cough* om mc *cough*).

They've cleaned up Ramshackle since living there, however, it still looks "abandoned & ancient" on the outside.

Crowley doesn't give them more money than "needed".

Silver states that Yuu is good with swords (PE Uniform).

Both Jamil and Silver seem to think that Yuu is somewhat weird/strange.

They don't know much about mushrooms (Floyd's Camp Vargas vignette).

They're very patient.

Used to be afraid of ghosts until they got to Twisted Wonderland.

They adapt to new/difficult situations quickly and calmly.

They don't complain much.

Very much so the silent type.

The audience doesn't really see anyone helping them out with their situation, so I assume they fix most of their problems themselves.

They don't have any memories of the Great Seven before coming to Twisted Wonderland.

Fluctuates between being observant and not noticing really basic stuff.

Doesn't hesitate to say cheesy things.

Keeps calm in harsh situations.

They know how to play a blowing horn (White Rabbit Event).

Good with instruments.

Not a very good singer (NRC Uniform).

It's implied that they have high stamina.

They're interested in horseback riding and wants to play soccer with Sebek (PE Uniform).

They recommend a few books to Sebek, implying that they read in their free time.

They're short in comparison to Floyd (he calls them Shrimpy).

Grim comments that they're shorter than Vil.

Crowley mumbles that Yuu looks effeminate.

They're a bit of a romantic since they seem to often ask about love stories/fairy tales (Epel & Jade chats).

They have a habit of poking, tugging, tickling and just touching people in general. This is proven through the Home Screen character interactions.

Their love language seems to be physical touch.

They get scared easily but is bad at scaring others (Halloween voice lines).

Vil notes that their uniform is baggy.

Malleus says that Yuu has gotten better at dancing (Masquerade Event).

It's implied that Yuu is good/decent at cooking since they have to make meals for both themself and Grim every day.

Yuu is decent at basketball (Ace Halloween).

Deuce remarks about a tiny piece of furniture in Ramshackle and asks if it's for Grim, meaning Yuu makes small furniture for him.

They're a good photographer.

Takes part in photography competitions (Rook Port Fest).

It's implied that Yuu carries their ghost camera everywhere because Crowley constantly makes them record events.

It's said that the game cards are actual photos that Yuu took with the ghost camera. [I don't know if this is true but a lot of people have said so]

Most, if not all the characters tell Yuu to hurry up when choosing a class, which suggests that they're indecisive.

Ace, Deuce and Cater tell Yuu to relax during classes or else they'll run out of energy.

Jack says that he got tips from Yuu while he was working in Monstro Lounge, implying that Yuu might've worked in customer service before (Book 3).

According to Grim, they have a hard time saying no to people, but when they absolutely need to-- they're very serious and a bit intimidating. "You're a real sap sometimes, you know that? Then again, when you bare your teeth it's no joke."

While they won't say no to helping others, they prefer to keep to themselves and avoid drama.

Yuu is sometimes a bit distrustful of Ace and thinks he's tricking them if he offers to do anything nice (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

It doesn't take much to make them happy. (Deuce & Idia 2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

They became nervous when Riddle invited them to a salon for their birthday. Riddle response saying "I'll be right there with you, and will instruct you in etiquette every step of the way."

They're competitive in class-- at least when it comes to Jack (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

They took chess lessons to try and beat Leona in a match (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

For their birthday, Yuu asks Azul to get something that's supposedly hard for an average collector to acquire.

They're surprised when Kalim gifts them a pop-up card for their birthday.

They own a pair of fingerless gloves (gifted by Epel).

They personally invited Vil over for their birthday party and made sure to have healthy food options for him.

Not very close with Idia.

Owns a glass tumbler that reads 'Happy Birthday!' (gifted by Ortho).

Lilia gives them a CD with his screamo performances.

They were gifted so many presents on their birthday that they had trouble carrying the gifts around. (Malleus 2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

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bunniesanddeer · 2 months

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Touch- Pt 1

Alastor x GN!Reader

Part Two

Plot: Alastor realizes the reader is starting to get comfortable touching the other residents of the hotel, despite their discomfort with touch before. He suddenly realizes that he is not receiving any of these touches, and it annoys him.

Tags: GN! Reader, fluff, angst, short fic.

Word Count: 1,049

Touch Pt. 1

He had never noticed it before, but now that it had been mentioned, he couldn’t stop noticing it. Every time someone leaned too close, or went to bump you, you leaned away, or shrunk in on yourself. It was a visual reaction that lit up his brain; something close to kinship. You were much like him, in the way you cringed at the slightest, unprovoked touch. Unlike himself, however, you never seemed to initiate it, either.

Alastor could see why someone like you wouldn’t bother. You didn’t have the power to make people back off if you made it seem like you were okay with casual touches. Better to avoid them altogether!

Alastor was confused, however, when you seemed to suddenly grow more… tactile with the others. It had been just before dinner, Alastor had Niffty setting the table, and everyone was slowly gathering near the dining room.

“Gosh, how do you even do that, Angel?” You exclaimed. Your face was colored in your bafflement and disgust, even as you let a laugh out. “That’s just, overkill!”

“Just say that you’re jealous, toots. We both know ya’ wouldn’t be able ta’ handle that,” Angel said, leaning his large frame down to wiggle his eyebrows in your face.

You were laughing again. The sound always caught Alastor’s attention. Even down in Hell, you managed to have a very happy sounding laugh. It felt strange and out of place, but not bad, per se. (Alastor did not like to linger on the ‘why's’ of such thoughts. There was no point. The one time he had, it had spiraled out of control. Not again).

When Alastor turned to look, he always did, not that he would admit it, your hands were on Angel's face, pushing him back with a grin.

“Keep yourself away from me, you weirdo! You gotta have like a snake jaw to do that. I want nothing to do with it!” Your hands were still on Angel. Why? You didn’t like touch. Why were you doing it now?

That moment plagued him for a few days, especially as he noticed you touching Angel more. Were you and the effeminate fellow an item? He thought for sure that Angel’s tastes swung the other direction. His theory was smashed to smithereens when he saw you and Husker later on.

You were helping Husker clean smashed glass from the ground, listening to the cat-demon talk. It was often Husker listening to others, so the sight cough Alastor’s attention. He lingered off to the side, and watched, as he was wont to do.

Something the demon said made your eyebrows furrow, and sympathy flit across your face. Alastor watched your lips move, as if you were speaking softly. Then your arm was across Husker’s shoulder, a soft squeeze pulling him against you, for only a moment.

The moment was said and done in mere seconds, but it idled in Alastor’s memory. He could not fathom why things had changed. It only got worse as he realized you were doing it with near everyone in the hotel. Charlie got soft shoulder pats, and light hugs. Vaggie received fist-bumps, (what a strange gesture), and some small hugs. Angel got hip checked and often pulled into impromptu wrestling matches, (he could always hear Angel complain about them, but he never bothered to try and stop you. Maybe the spider didn’t hate it?) Sir Pentious, the cowardly snake, was allowed to pick you up and move you sometimes. Niffty got head pats, and she got picked up by you, sometimes. Husker received the least amount of physical contact, but there were moments where the cat’s tail would brush up against you, or you would squeeze his hand.

Over the course of a few weeks, Alastor couldn’t fathom why everyone else in the hotel was receiving these tender touches from you? He couldn’t tell what the change was. You were still your chipper self, and you helped out as normal. Nothing had changed except the way you interacted with the others. And then it hit him. Others. Your interactions with him hadn’t changed in the slightest.

Your smiles were always soft, and you still laughed at his jokes. You still got spooked when he snuck up on you, and you still shied away when his anger made his form change. He couldn’t spot a single difference! It was after a particularly long day of dealing with Vox, that things hit a tipping point.

Alastor had just gotten back to the hotel, having torn apart goons sent to bother him. Vox was always pulling stupid things like that, but it was more annoying when his technique was suddenly being ridiculed on every screen in Hell! He had managed to send a nasty message to Vox at the end of it all, but it remained a dampener on his day. And then he had spotted you, milling about in the lobby.

��Good afternoon!” He had practically yelled, forcing exuberance into his voice. “How are you this fine afternoon, dear?”

You whipped around, a smile already on your face. “Hi, Alastor! I’m doing okay.” Then a wince washed over your expression. “Saw that stuff on TV, earlier. Hope you got back at him, for it.”

Ah, of course you would mention it. Always worried about how others feel. (He would tell himself that it meant nothing. Because it did. Mean nothing, that is).

“Of course I did, my dear! The belligerent fool will remember today as a failure, for sure!” He had finally made it over towards you, and had moved to pull you against his side, when you ducked under his arms, stepping a few feet back.

But you just kept talking to him, like you hadn't moved! The static of his power surging made your words blur in his mind. He couldn’t hear a single word as his mind raced. How dare you? Was he not good enough? Why did each of the others get to touch you now, but he was a problem?

It was the frown on your face that pulled him back down. “Are you okay,” you asked, your face full of concern for him. It didn’t help.

When Alastor had finally waived away your worries, he had shadow-stepped to his room. He needed to think.

#alastor x reader #fluff #light angst #radio demon #alastor #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #fanfic #short fic #Bun's short fics

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comfortless · 3 months

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Pygmalion!König and Galatea!Reader………. 😖 What do you think?

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. pining, light angst. self harm, implied animal death (not done by König or reader), fluff, König is horrible and by that i mean yes— he fucks the statue, outercourse, unprotected piv, implied mutual loss of virginity.

notes: lovely Salome did something similar to this already! 💖 however. yes. i am thinking about it and well…. take this out of my hands.

König has never had anything that could properly be called his own.

He walks the city entirely alone, no wife at his side to paw at his chest and bless him with adoring glances. His only steadfast companions are the grit slipping into his sandals as he walks, head held high even as the shadow of a boy begging on his knees for any semblance of love eternally tethers itself to him.

A glance lingering too long at the appeal of a soft face, the brush of his calloused fingertips against a pornai’s bare stomach before deciding that no, he didn’t want something so simple.

He merely slips a few apologetic drachma into her waiting palm and sets her free of him.

A warm body would never be enough, it was the heart that he starved for. To bed some poor creature that would never properly love him would be worse than the greatest of tortures in his mind.

It wasn’t a simple affair to find a lady to marry, either. Foreign soldier that he was, he had no right to some politician’s pretty daughter, court her properly and sweep her away to a bed that’s only ever been a harbor for lonely, twisted bitterness and blood.

Most turned away the moment he passed by: frightened glances that rightfully accused him of immense violence, shushed whispers of “barbarian” passed from soft lips before the sand beneath their fretful feet shifted and their shapes had disappeared from view entirely.

The ceaseless loneliness carves a burning ache somewhere within the expanse of his chest, something he knew he would never truly be free of, not until it rotted it’s way out of him in full.

It only seemed to quiet in moments he shed blood for this foreign country; burying his sword in some poor man’s gut was the closest he could get to sheathing a part of himself inside another, to touching a heart, seeing lips part in a gasp as their world becomes entirely consumed by him.

Just as the many days prior to this one, he grips the hilt of his blade, letting the metal dig into his palm, his knuckles bone white, as he makes his way back to the empty shack deemed a home.

Streets quiet and crowds disperse with each of his silent footfalls— not one of these smaller men or fearful women dares to look him in the eye. The only thing that does, the only eyes that ever lock to his, are those peering out from the harbor.

The figurehead guarding her expertly crafted ship has always called to him.

Her beauty was remarkable, from the curl of her hair to the patient look in her eyes. Her hands clasped before her breasts in silent prayer as she looms over the darkened depths of the sea beyond the soil, calling him to board, to venture away from this place that his left him in such an acute state of misery.

He swears he hears it then, a mere whisper on the wind, urging him in featherlight comfort to lie down his sword and take up the chisel and hammer.

It’s only when he pauses to look the gentle face of the figurehead over once more that he finds himself resolute in what he must do.

— — —

When he took to crafting her it was born of this desperation; hazy moonbeams cutting through the shade of his shack for hours before he would reluctantly pull away from a beautifully carved hand or the soft but stiff curve of a neck to retire to the straw-stuffed mattress at the corner of the room.

She was beautiful, a representation of all of the sweet, effeminate softness he would marvel at from afar. The swell of plush breasts, curved hips and silken thighs, eternally parted by her stance, the sweet face that could make any man feel entirely weak…

His hands tremble when they rest upon her form, unsure of just how such splendor could have come from his own coarse palms.

Weeks of scarce sleep only seemed to further his devoted madness. Though the warring dulled the ache and sated his blade, the longing seemed to only grow far more prevalent.

He yearned when they were apart, dreamt of coming home to her less lifeless and only demure smiles and hurried kisses the moment he would return to her. He would always come back.

Upon her completion, he took to courting her proper. Though she could not in any way reciprocate or reject his advances, he believed wholeheartedly that the cushiony love that had blossomed within his aching, neglected heart must be mutual.

Gifts were strewn at her cold feet, some gilded and shimmery, some soft with an abundance of colorful petals: offerings for a silent goddess that kept a part of his soul hidden away deep inside the pristine marble that she was carved from.

When he wraps her neck in a necklace with a sparkling beryl amulet attached, his hand does drift to the swell of her breast beneath the woolen chiton.

It’s hard and cold, but his groping becomes as incessant as the kisses he presses to her jaw, to her cold lips, tongue leaving a warm path down to her neck before he finds himself committed to having her.

He’s careful when he disrobes her, slowly revealing the mounds and curves and softness of her imitation of human flesh.

Dropping to his knees, his tongue laps at the ivory depiction of smooth lower lips, spearing between each silken ridge until he imagines her eyes squeezing shut as she cries out for him, rolling her perfectly sculpted hips to coat his tongue in waves of vulgar honey.

He moans into her cunt, drools and sucks at the mimicry for as long as it takes to find her thighs drenched in his saliva and his cock aching horribly between his thighs.

He rises to slot himself between her legs, pushing forward with a keening whine that dissipates into a relieved gasp. The feel of her pressed against him; the smooth ridges of her makeshift flesh running over his stiff, leaking cock is akin to finding divinity.

His hands rove over her breasts, thumbs pressed against her eternally pebbled nipples as he kisses her, each sloppy and filled with years of need.

It is pure bliss, almost as though he is burying himself to his hilt inside of her pulsing cunt.

He would fuck her better than any man— not a single other could match the strength of his affections nor his hapless willingness to please.

If he could have carved a proper hole between her legs, not a drop of his seed would be wasted on thin sheets or spilled into his palm, she would be filled, womb brimming until some loving god or goddess blessed her with child.

His pace quickens to the point of frantic, feverish hands drifting to her hips as he mouths at her breasts instead, hissing out praises for how good she feels against him, how his heart bleeds to feel her nearer.

There is so much heat between her thighs now he could swear it burns like the cold mist of the Underworld itself; the fuzzy heat pools from his navel and further as his muscles begin to tense and leave his thoughts a haze and his lips parted in a silent, worshipping cry.

It’s only when he envisions her tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, back arching as she drags her nails over his shoulders and whines through her own damnation that his cock throbs in repetition as his eyes roll back. His heavy sack arrives at her mound as his seed spills from him, cascading down to paint the thighs of his silent lover, smeared pearly and glistening over her labia as he rubs his cockhead against her with an agonized groan.

His forehead finds her shoulder, warm breath replacing the coldness of her skin as he wraps his arms around her perpetually beckoning form, lovingly trailing kisses from her clavicle to her ear where he whispers a breathless, “I love you.”

It’s only after he’s finished wiping away the evidence of depravity from her that he feels the first wave of shame, sharp and feathering from his chest that leaves his jaw set and throat tight.

What lowly man envies the warmth others experience with far less gratitude? König has never seen himself as pathetic, no matter how commonly he’s been sent off and kicked like a stray.

She’s the only thing that’s brought him any sort solace in a world that’s left him starved, but also a cruel mirror casting a reflection of his own nature.

Pulling the thin blanket from his mattress, the statue is soon swallowed up in her entirety, all guilt and pity-drawing attestation neatly hidden away behind rippling sable fabric; her form silent and waiting as it would remain eternally.

None of this is enough.

———

König has never found himself fond of prayer, never felt the need to partake in the festivals and ceremonies. His luck in battle was only a mere measure of skill, of a body so brutal and immense that most trembled before him, not born of any benevolent gift. There was no need to kneel, to bestow offerings upon the altars. If the people turned away from him, then surely any god or goddess would be even more inclined to do so.

Only… his mindless wandering has led him here, to Aphrodite’s altar whilst the festival of Aphrodisia plays on everywhere around him. The people invoke and dance, abundant offerings brought forth as the scent of timber burning and bold floral incense floods his senses. Blood and flowers already riddle the stone, a stark vibrancy of color that lures him closer, commands him to kneel.

He doesn’t have a thing to offer to the goddess, not so much as a petal, but if the pull were not just the first signs of a withering mind…

The glimpse of hope he’s offered is not taken for granted.

Thick fingers curl over his sharpened blade, dragging his palm against the steel until it stings almost sweetly. If she could accept the blood of a goat then surely, his could be no more polluted. Beads of crimson revel and dance along his forearm before dropping down onto the stone.

And he does pray.

It is not a vulnerable prayer, one that bares him in full, but only a wish— a longing for warmth, to have her share his breath, to admonish his shame and live free with the one thing that has never given him anything but safe harbor.

He unveils her when he returns, knowing that this is the closest he will ever come to love.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes against her cheek, leaves a kiss there before dragging himself away to disrobe and pull himself back into bed.

When the weariness takes him, his sleep in dreamless and calm. If any blessing were bestowed upon him at all, the surely that would have been more than enough. A night without turning, without visions of a darkened grave devoid of anything to haunt him.

He only begins to stir when the mattress dips at his side, a soft palm pressed to his chest, stroking along the loose curls of auburn there.

“König..,” a voice calls out, more gentle than any he’s ever heard.

He wakes to find her, leaning over him with the sweetest glimmer in her eyes, wide and fascinated. Her touches only trail further up to his face as he tries to silence the rapid beating of his heart, the stinging born of adoration in his own pale blue eyes.

“I missed you,” she whispers, moving to curl at his side, her hands cradling either side of his jaw.

König is utterly stifled and so terribly smitten, the most he can manage is a quiet huff of breath as he rolls onto his side to take this sweet, unreal woman into his arms. Dreaming or waking, it mattered not, if he were given only the night or a lifetime with this beautiful little creature it’s still more than he has ever had.

His head dips to press a chaste kiss to her soft lips, only finding a warmth there that had never been the many times he had kissed her prior. His palm runs along her side, feeling ever perfect dip and curve, all heated and so very alive.

She only falls apart beneath his touch, already quivering and softly gasping even from such a gentle kiss. The thought that this little dove has been longing for him just as much makes his heart bleed. He whispers his apologies against her temple, for his frustrations, for his doubt in their love, for all of the temptations and hatred that plagued his mind before she came to be.

She only answers with eager touches, grasping at him as she murmurs her own perceived shortcomings. If only she knew that she could never do wrong, that she was what’s saved him and that nothing could shatter that.

When her tongue slips past his lips and his breath grows heavy, there’s little else he can concentrate on than the throbbing pillar between his legs, the scent of her around him, under him when he guides her onto her back.

Thanking the goddess could wait, he’s far too focused on the one that’s willingly climbed into his bed.

One hand splays at her side forcing him upright as the other trails over her breasts, a satisfied groan leaves him as he feels her softness, fighting back to urge to squeeze and pinch until she cries in pleasure, howling out like those at the altar he had encountered only earlier.

A nipple is snared between his thumb and index, twisted gently beneath each pad, her back arches…The wetness of the dew slicked flower between her legs brushes against him and he whines like a starved dog finally presented with the aroma of a meal.

His hand falls from her breast to her hip, encouraging her to buck the source of her own need against him— take anything she needed. If she were to pull a blade and carve a hole in his own chest he would only let her, the taste of this heated bliss and the look that she gives him, enchanted and curious, is more than he has ever deserved.

Only does he pause when he parts her thighs, and her stare becomes more curious, searching him for any reason as to why he would even stop.

“We have done this before. Are you afraid now?”

No, he wants to tell her, that before was not the full extent of it. Instead he only laughs, peeling away just enough to fit his head between her legs, mouth only a small measure from her weeping cunt.

“I want to taste you.”

With a whispered plea from her lips, he raises her hips, mouthing and suckling at her until she shivers and sings against the cushions. He groans against her when she does come, her hips stuttering in his grasp as she drives further against him.

He hisses in his mother tongue when he pushes the backs of her thighs up, grinds his leaking tip against her until he swears he really will fall into madness if he doesn’t fuck into her immediately.

The ache in his chest that his been so prevalent for so long is finally smothered out the very moment she tugs him down by his shoulders and pulls him into a frenzied kiss. She encourages him in each lapse, murmurs how long that she’s waited, how starved she’s been for him while hidden away.

He nearly sobs when his tip snags against her entrance, so divinely wet, pulsing and begging just as he is. When he penetrates her, the breath is punched from his lungs, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of her within reach as she wraps around his shaft as though her cunt was made for him.

His little dove only covers him in kisses in turn as he mumbles obscenities into her flesh, revelling in her tightness, in the way her body fits so perfectly against his, mutually carved by the gods to fulfill one another. His professions of love come in abundance as she fits her legs over his narrow hips, crying out from his sudden depth as his cock jumps against a spot that leaves her writhing.

Though it’s almost painful to keep himself restrained, he tries his best not to rut into her like a mindless animal, even when he feels her constrict around him as another orgasm leaves her cunt drooling and pulsing. He doesn’t give her time to recover, however… forced to lie in wait for so long, it’s nearly taken out on her as he spears into her as she moans and babbles her praises against his chest.

He’s lost to the empyrean as his muscles finally pull taut, crying as he buries his head into her shoulder and pumps his come into her, shaking as he wraps her up in his arms and clutches her close as he melts against her.

Spent and sated, König holds her tightly against him as they pant and share sweet words, secrets and giggles from her that make every moment of dolor before this night seem insignificant.

She slots her fingers between his own, compliments his damaged face and the worships his body with brushes of her lips and tongue just as he does her. He does not leave her empty, warms her heart with words he’s kept trapped in his throat for months, guides her gently as she perches over him to descend back onto his cock, his thumb stroking her stomach as he tells her over and again just how much he loves her, compared his feelings to that of Orpheus, how he would suffer anything all for her.

A pleading “Stay” is uttered as she falls limp against him, stroking along her back as they come down for the second time that night.

The last thing that leaves her lips before sleep takes her is the most saccharine she’s said that night, a simple, “I love you.”

It’s the only thing that he’s ever truly longed for.

———

They marry after the voyage back to his homeland, his head clouded during the entire trip of seeing her swell with his child in time, a home built with her in mind for the two of them, of lying flowers at her feet just as he had before.

His blade lies neglected in the little glade they had chosen, taking up only a hammer and his own hands as he works tirelessly to provide for his wife, the dove that looks at him as though he were not a dog but a king.

When their home is built after many weeks of tedious work during day and bedding her beneath the stars each night, König only then thinks to pray his thanks to the foreign goddess who gifted his salvation to him with little more than a scrape from his palm. All the while his true goddess leans over him to tickle his cheek with flowers he had plucked for her only moments prior, covering him in a fragrance so sweet it only seemed befitting of herself.

She giggles and sighs when he pulls her down into the grass to roll over her, blanket her in kisses and gentle bites to her throat.

The beryl amulet around her neck catches the glimmer of the sun above as she sifts her fingers through his hair and tells him that the gods already knew he was grateful, that his worship of her was already telling enough.

#könig #könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #konig #cod fanfiction

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demilypyro · 3 months

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Thinking about my dad.

When I was younger, he was always very hard on me for being sensitive. I was shy, lacking in confidence, pretty effeminate. He'd talk about not wanting me to be like that, and seemed like he took it as a failure on his part. He felt he wasn't doing enough as a father to make me more masculine, I suppose. So when I came out to him, he didn't take it well. It took him a few years to accept.

But the irony is, I think he's supportive now because as a woman I've become more confident and outspoken. I've noticed he likes it when I show him new clothes I bought, and when I go out to do girly stuff and dress up for dates. He seems genuinely happy for me. I think he can tell that it makes me happy, that he was just wrong about what I needed to be happy.

We've never talked about it in certain terms, really, but one time during a car ride he was just like "You seem happier now, am I right?" and I was like "Yeah, I am" and we left it at that.

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theminecraftbee · 2 months

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“So do you think he gets the irony that it’s sand?” Scar asks, staring up at the towering hourglass above them.

“Really? You’re gonna be the one to call that out?” Tango responds, bemused.

Scar has to crane his neck to see the top of the hourglass to an uncomfortable degree; he really can’t lean that much further back in his wheelchair without causing problems. He can already feel the ache in his spine. It just seems appropriate to stare up at the thing itself if he’s going to be pointing out irony and literary devices about it.

“Now, listen. I’ve thought a whole lot about sand, Tango! And about how much money Doc’s about to make me as the only exchange in town for the much easier to collect diamonds. I enjoy shoveling, Tango! When it’s too hard to think or move or talk, I can go out there with my power shovel and just dig and dig and dig. I’ve cleared deserts practically on my own. It’s meditative. No, no exchange rate is going to beat me, and I can set it to whatever I want.”

Scar finally looks down again, resisting the urge to rub his neck. He grins at Tango, the sharp and wild smile he’s practiced so long. Tango is making a face.

“Geez. Okay man. I thought the dramatic villain speeches were for Doc. Also? None of that was irony.”

“Right, right, sorry, I’m rambling,” Scar says. “The thing is, I’ve thought a lot about hourglasses, about sand, and the thing Tango is that sand is effe—effermil—oh, shoot, I know this—effeminate?”

Tango wheezes. “I can’t believe I thought you were going somewhere with that. Sand is effeminate?”

“No, no, no, I mean, sand isn’t permanent. It goes away. You don’t get to keep it. Poof! It’s gone,” Scar says grumpily. “See, that would have been cool if you’d let me finish.”

Tango looks up at the hourglass himself and shrugs. “Looks like he’s planning on making it permanent pretty well.”

“Yeah, but look—if he’s trying to invoke the sands of time, that’s even more effeminate than regular sand! Before he knows it… poof. Slips right between your fingers! Impossible to hold onto! Can’t trust sand! I of all people would know. That’s why I’m selling it!” Scar makes a hand motion. He grins at Tango. Tango grimaces.

“You know, you might have some issues to work through, man.”

“I mean, sure, but…” Scar gestures at the hourglass. “You know, they say if your build stays bigger than the others for more than a few hours, you should really call your—”

“Okay,” Tango says. “I’m gonna cut you off right there buddy.”

“You never let me finish,” Scar says.

“And that’s officially worse,” Tango says.

“But I definitely lasted longer than mister pay in sand—”

“Devs, if you’re merciful, let a creeper explode right now,” Tango says. “If your sands of time are so impermanent, why am I trapped in this conversation?”

“My charming good looks,” Scar says. “Anyway, do you want to prank that thing or what?”

“Literally everyone wants to prank that thing. Nothing has ever screamed ‘prank me’ as much as that stupid hourglass has. I’m in. Tell me the plan,” Tango says, and Scar hums and makes his pitch. He hears the echoes of drops of sand on glass and sand on stone and sand on sand behind him, and thinks to himself: it’s an awfully good thing that it’s a good day to make new mistakes, or this would all have ended rather differently.

The universe gave him a sand monopoly, after all.

And Scar, well, he knows a few things about trying to hold onto sand.

#hermitcraft #(but also referencing)#3rd life smp #a bee fic #goodtimeswithscar #tango tek #suggestive #for the VERY scar responses to that hourglass #ANYWAY. SAND HUH.#sorry I had to.#hermitfic

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fraugwinska · 10 days

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Follow up idea to the person who suggested that lovely birthday doodle request,, Reader who can draw proficiently as a hobby and often sketches folks at the hotel in their sketch book. Alastor is a bit offended that no matter what it seems as though he’s no where in this book, when they retire for the night he brings it up almost as if he’s jealous and they laugh at him. He’s upset because now he feels as though they are making fun of him until they retrieve another book and turns out they draw him in privacy (he’s so special he has his own book) It’s so cute too theres little heart doodles and them holding hands everywhere

Darling, how can I say no to 1) you *handheart* and 2) to such a cute pürompt? Make way, guys, gals and non-binary pals, here comes the fluff-queen!

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Pictures of You

“ME NEXT! ME NEXT!” You tugged your sketchbook out of Niffty's small but surprisingly strong fingers. The little demon giggled and almost fell from your shoulder, making you laugh.

“Niff, any more doodles of you and I'd have to pay you royalties. Also, Angel asked first.”

You grinned, turning another page of the thick binder to an empty canvas and twirled the coal pen in your hand. Husk had just involuntarily changed his sleeping position from 'face in hands' to 'face on counter', groaning at the impact, so you wanted to start anew. Niffty resumed to braid your hair – you often let her just do what she wanted, she had a knack for it anyways – and huffed. “You only want to draw him because he can do impossible poses.” “Well, he is flexible.”

“Comes with the job, sweet cheeks.” Angel, who had entered through the door, grinned at you, taking his pink heart-shaped sunglasses off while he walked behind you, leaning over your shoulder. “Aw, toots, you really are talented, Husky looks like a snack there. Can I have that when 'ya done?”

“Have what, my effeminate fellow?” Angel jumped as Alastor materialized behind him without warning, releasing a startled 'Jesus Christ on a cracker!' while his lower set of arms clung onto your tensed shoulders. The radio demon laughed heartily, bending over slightly to look past Angel's head. He craned his neck and reached with his cane, forcing you to lean sideways so he could examine what you were drawing.

You flinched at the contact with the strangely warm metal, but didn't look up from the page. You only gripped the black coal tighter, feeling it beginning to crack. Alastor hummed in what sounded almost fond praise, giving a brief tap to Husk's shape on the paper.

"Marvelous! What a talent you have." he proclaimed. "Although I have to ask again, my dear, how come you never draw me? Surely I could..."

You lifted a finger, face scrunched up in concentration and shook your head, eyes firmly on the almost finished sketch. Alastor clicked his tongue in a displeased way, clawed fingers impatiently tapping the microphone at the end of his cane.

"Really, dearest. I have a great interest for-"

"Hold on!"

"-a unique idea of the possibilities-"

"Done!"

As you finished, you stretched your cramped hand, setting down the charcoal on the armrest of the red plush sofa and rubbing your fingers to get rid of the black stains. You ripped the paper out of the sketchbook and handed it to Angel, carefully avoiding Alastors burning eyes and ignoring the angry static pops sizzling on your skin.

"There you go, Ange. You can lock it in with a little coat of hairspray, otherwise it will smudge easily."

You hastily stood up, letting Niffty tumble down your back onto the sofa with a wild giggle while you quickly assembled your things. You saw Alastor open his mouth and interrupted whatever speech he might've wanted to deliver you, your heart racing and mouth unusually dry.

"Oh, would you look at the time, I promised Charlie to get laundry done by the evening, I better get going. Maybe another time, yeah? Okay, bye!"

You were already through the door by the time he had registered you leaving, mouth half-open and ready to protest against whatever injustice he felt you had done him. His eyebrow twitched slightly at your retreating figure, eyes flickering between the corner you disappeared around and Angel Dust, the latter laughing mockingly at the deer.

"Aw shucks, failing again, deer daddy? What is it now, the fifth time she blew 'ya off?"

"The seventh.", Niffty corrects him, scratching on the black spot where you had set the charcoal in between your work. Alastor gave her a sour expression, while Angel leaned back, eyeing the sketch of his subject of interest with lovingly.

"Maybe she took 'ya by heart, Smiles. Don't 'ya always say 'ya got a face for radio only?"

***

Alastor was fuming.

Everyone was in that damn book, everyone. And yet, he was nowhere in it to be found.

In his opinion he was far superior in beauty of aesthetics then, for example, Angel Dust, or Vaggie. Hell, Husk had even made an entry, and all he did was lay around and drink himself into oblivion. Why would you take the time to sketch these nobodies in detail instead of him? Was he that unimportant to you, did you deem him that unworthy? Or was this your subtle way of making fun of his appearance, his laughable predicament of being a predator in a prey body?

He thought he'd have been generous enough not to reprimand you, or destroy that damned book all together after all this time. It was your luck that he had developed a strange fondness of you. Alastor only ever bothered himself with a few souls since his arrival in hell, and his encounter with you was a happy coincidence indeed. You were so much less annoying, so much more quiet and respectful than most of the demons around him, with your charcoal pen behind your ear and a keen eye for beautiful things that you turned into artworks like it was your second nature.

And even though you've always seemed to take a liking to him, his patient questions for a sketch, a portrait or just anything of him was met by you with dismissiveness, awkward excuses or outright evading, only ever drawing other sinners, even the cursed piglet Angel called a pet. But never, never him.

This couldn't go on any longer. He would talk to you about it, and either you would draw him willingly or you would draw nothing at all.

Your room was located only three corridors down his own suite, right across of a broken down door. Despite the late hour you had left the door cracked open, music faintly streaming through it along the orange light of your desk lamp. Which meant you were still awake. Still working. Still drawing.

The door made no sound when he pushed it open, carefully peeking his head inside. He was right, your back was hunched over your desk, completely lost in your work while your voice hummed along with the little melody from the radio.

The radio he had gifted you. He snapped his fingers and the music screeched loudly before coming to a stop, the radio dying instantly and making you jump in your seat.

"JESUS!" You whipped your head around, clutching your heart. He gave his best charming smile, red eyes narrowing in on you.

"No dear, it's just me." he smiled maliciously and closed the door behind him, it clicking ominously shut. Locked. You laughed awkwardly, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face and hastily closed the thick, black sketchbook on the desk shut, a different one than the one from before. A new one. Another cursed one without him in it, surely.

"Haha, thank satan, I'm not dressed to meet the son of god." you quibbed, avoiding his gaze and twirling your pencil, something you always did when you were nervous.

He didn't join into your joke, instead he walked over to your dresser, where the filled sketchbook from before laid. Open, showing a detailed drawing of Keekee stretching in front of the fireplace. The blasted cat was the last straw.

"Why," Alastor spoke sharply, barely registering his antlers sprouting in angry cracks, "are there any and every sinners and creatures depicted in that... doggone, ridiculous thing?".

His words were spat with so much anger he missed your scared and confused look when you pushed your chair back, almost tripping and scrambling to get away. "What? Alastor, I..."

He hit the book once, almost tearing the thick parchment. "And not one mention of me? You have no idea how utterly vexing and insulting it is to feel ignored, or rather unnoted! What did I do, oh do tell, dear, that makes you think of me so below you that you just outright forget my existence?!"

Again, he hit the book, feeling it starting to rip from the amount of pent up frustration tightening his grip. But it did feel good, immensely so, to take it out on the damn thing he would have shredded weeks ago, if you didn't enjoy it so much.

"N-Nothing, you really don't... you don't understand...", you laughed nervously, eyes too pleading, too soft for his liking, as if you mocked him or worse: Pitied him. The thought alone fueled his anger further.

"Then I advise you to make me understand, my darling.", he growled, shoes scratching on the wooden floors with each step as he neared you, pressing you against the desk. "Because otherwise, I have no inhibitions to incinerate every single one of these god damn..."

"I draw you all the time. In your own book."

You grabbed the sketch book from the desk and thrust it in his face, spouting more nonsense with teary eyes that went deaf through his ears, only glaring at the cover and then opening it, ready for anything.

Nothing. Nothing but him.

There was no mention of anyone else.

There was nothing but him. His face. Portraits, stills, sketches, whole sceneries, doodles even.

Pages and pages full of his own features, his eyes looking back at him, so carefully captured in coal lines that his head reeled.

There he was, walking in long strides through the lobby, hair perfect and suit straight, the drawing so detailed it could've been a photography. On the other side was a picture of him, his eyes narrowed, showing no emotion as he stared down at the hotel papers in his hand. The next page, he was captured in a fight with that buffoon Sir Pentious, his is mouth cracked in an evil smile, claws stretched and ready to snap the snakes' airship in half.

And ever in between those artworks: Little doodles, as if drawn with an absent mind, of him and you. Holding hands. Embracing each other. Laughing together. Gazing into each others eyes. Silly hearts all around them.

Alastor almost dropped the book and the shakily uttered your name, for once truly at a loss for words.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Alastor...", he finally heard your muttering, voice trembling with tears. "I didn't know how... I was just... so... so embarrassed, and..."

Embarrassed. The absolute absurdity of it all.

Here he had been, worried you found him beneath the beauty you held in such esteem, wounded even so much as to bring out this unjustified anger. The fool he was. He was an idiot to have not considered the other possible explanations for your reticence.

Slowly, carefully, as if you'd spook and run should he move too fast, Alastor wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, still holding the book safely in his hand, pressing it into your back. At his will, his shadow lifted a hand and turned the radio on once again, a low hum resounding from the speakers as the soothing, quiet music continued.

"Mon cœur, the unnecessary pain you caused us both. And yet, I'm the one who has to apologize.", he said with an honesty he rarely spoke with. "We're both, evidently, quite hopeless. No use in keeping these feelings and words unsaid any longer then, hm? Can you forgive this old fool?"

You stared at him bewildered, at a loss for words yourself, before a relieved smile cracked your worried frown. Shiny tear streaks were running over your reddening cheeks, he wiped them off your face with a soft swipe of his thumb.

"Of course... As long as I can continue drawing you." You chuckled and pushed your face into his chest, Alastor was more than certain to hide the flush of your cheeks. He chuckled, gripping the book in his hands tighter as he buried his nose in your hair. You smelled like paper, paint and charcoal. And underneath it all lingered the scent of something new, yet familiar. Something... very much like him.

"Draw the both of us like this to perfection, darling, and that would be a deal worth to agree on."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #angel dust #hazbin hotel niffty #quick fic #oh so fluffy #i love ieatcocoa #fraugwinskas frauchen

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twopoppies · 2 months

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I think Harry is a lot more open with his sexuality then Louis is. Even a lot of anti’s think Harry is gay, they just don’t believe in Larry and are completely convinced that Louis is straight or worse homophobic. Louis seems to be a lot more reserved and closed off regarding it. What are your opinions on this? Do you think Louis struggled more to come to terms with it then Harry did?

I think Louis is a very different sort of gay man than Harry is in terms of the way he expresses himself. He has never been sort of person to wear feather boas and wave rainbow flags and strike stereotypically “gay” poses. It’s so much easier to pick up on Harry’s queerness because these days he does do that kind of thing, but that’s who Harry is. They’re not the same person.

I think categorizing Louis as “reserved and closed off” about expressing his sexuality is actually extremely unfair. There is no one way to be gay. There is no one way to show comfort with it. I think, like Harry, he has become much more private about his life beyond his career.

I don’t think Louis has had any difficulty accepting his sexuality. I find it so bizarre that fans today even question it because when they were in the band, he was considered “the gay one“ by so many people. He was very clearly effeminate and very, very pretty (and the suspenders outfits didn’t help).

I think the combination of this new breed of fan who makes sexual comments about him every time he’s on stage is part of the shift. I think his decision to start wearing the sort of clothes he wears now (plus the drinking/smoking/talking about weed, etc.) gives many people the impression that he’s a “lad“ and therefore somehow can’t be gay.

Beyond all of this, I think it’s really important to remember how harshly it seems he was punished for so many years for looking/sounding/being “too gay”. I honestly can’t imagine going through so many years of being told everything about me was wrong and having the whole world commenting on everything about me, and coming out the other side without being at least a little reserved about expressing myself freely.

But this is the man you’re wondering about. Do you seriously think this is a guy who’s not at peace with who he is?

LOUIS NOT BEING HOMOPHOBIC

JUST LIKE YOU MUSIC VIDEO

THERE IS NO HETEROSEXUAL EXPLANATION FOR THIS

FLAMBOYANT LOUIS

You’ll have to scroll through this tag, but X FACTOR JUDGE LOUIS being super supportive of all the queer acts who auditioned

And honestly, do you really think someone who wasn’t comfortable with their sexuality would stage two fucking rainbow bears with so much LGBTQ+ history night after night?

#louis’ sexuality #He’s gay Petra #coded clothing

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punkitt-is-here · 8 months

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Is there some kind of in-show detail (or comics I guess? Don’t know too much about MLP lore) that makes everyone think Big Mac / Orchard Blossom is trans or is this just a widely accepted fanon thing? Love it either way just wondering if there’s an origin

okay, quick and dirty and by no means comprehensive, but my reasoning comes from two Season 5 episodes, Brotherhooves Social and Do Princesses Dream of Magic Sheep?

In Brotherhooves, Mac desires the same kind of admiration that AJ gets from Applebloom and through a series of mental gymnastics decides his best option for this is dressing up as Orchard Blossom, a Dolly-Parton-lookin' horse gal who is exceedingly confident and talkative, extremely energetic, and also like kind of flirty from what I remember? Mac basically transforms into a completely different person. In the end its revealed he didn't even have to do that because people who aren't someones actual sister have always been allowed in the competition.

In DPDoMS, the entire town is trapped in a shared dream and they're told they can imagine anything, and the first thing Mac does is transform into an alicorn princess, an exclusively female (from what we've seen) type of pony. There's also some misc. stuff here and there, like how seems to enjoy cute or effeminate things like Smartypants as long as no one sees him doing it, and how little he talks (which I've seen folks HC as him not enjoying his own voice).

Was this all a secret plan by the writers to showcase a closeted trans character? Nah, almost assuredly not. It's all mostly jokes around a big manly character having interests in and doing things that are stereotypically very non-masculine. But! I think that's the fun of it. As a rural trans woman, I saw those little dots and thought that connecting them let to a genuinely very compelling idea of a trans character, and I'm glad other folks have had the same idea to take the canon and see where it takes us. :)

#my posts #mlp #big macintosh #horsetalk #orchard blossom #asks #anon

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meanbossart · 3 months

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I appreciate how you write Astarion so, SO much. I feel like way too many fic writers infantilize him to a point where I honestly start wondering if I'm the one who misinterpreted him so badly.

I'd love to know more about what you think of his character and his arc. Personally I saw him and immediately went "oh god this guy is gonna be the irritating tumblr sexyman of the year🙄" and it took me until Araj basically to warm up to him. What were your initial thoughts and did they change much while playing the game?

OH thank you so much!!! That's a shame if it's the case, and a little surprising to me, to be honest! While he's definitely written be an aloof jerk a lot of the time, I always found him to be surprisingly mature and introspective whenever he's not dishing out witty remarks. He comes off to me as the kind of person who learned to benefit from seeming dumber than he actually is, overall.

HAHA I had a VERY similar experience, not just towards Astarion but all the characters, really (I really disliked Shadowheart at the beginning, too). I had only seen pictures of him and pretty much expected a vapid character that was being carried to stardom because of a talented VA - and because people go nuts for anne rice style vampires lol.

While I was definitely enjoying his voice lines from the start (Again kudos to Neil) I definitely wasn't expecting much else. He piqued my interest after so devastatingly turning my character down at the tiefling party without me even having inquired, and that's when I, the gamer, was like "well, alright, I GOTTA fuck this guy now" (this is also where DU drow's personality began to come out as you can probably guess)

Obviously, if you have two neurons to rub together you can gather pretty quickly that he's not trying to woo you because you're so interesting and wonderful, so I started getting curious! With that dynamic being so different from what you usually expect of romances in these types of games, plus the charming way in which he is written, I started being won over.

I think what really did it was how gradually his attitude changed when responding to new, mostly trivial dialogue options and doing his greetings as you earned his trust, and ESPECIALLY with how he responds to your tav when you express any kind of fear or insecurity during his romance - which was with a lot of sincerity and confidence in his resolve to support you, and in you as a person, a complete 180 from his usual front - Which, again, makes me all the more surprised to hear that he's often painted with such an immature brush.

And obviously he has a DEEPLY ugly side to him (if you've read ANE, hopefully it's clear that I know this, and that I like to explore it just as much as anything else lmao) but it's very interesting to me how it seem to always come in the form of outbursts, rather than a constant evil-streak, usually followed by a glimpse of self-awareness. It feels very much in line with someone who's actually making a great deal of effort to manage their RAMPANT emotions and going through a lot of internal conflict in the process.

GAH. Yeah if you can't tell by this friggin' thesis I just wrote, I love the way they wrote this character a lot and I was definitely proven PROFOUNDLY wrong in my first impression of him - which, if that's not irony at it's finest I don't know what is.

And as an aside! I also very much appreciate that he's a "queer" coded character who's effeminate (in the Old Homo kind of way, but I digress) and flamboyant, but taken Dead Fucking Seriously. With as much progress as we've made in LGBT rep in media, I still often feel like gay men will only get that kind of treatment for as long as they "Aren't That Gay" (I know Astarion doesn't have a set sexuality - But lets not mince words: stereotypes exist, and he fits into most of them) and as a thin-wristed gay guy who's a little too found of linen shirts, I can honestly say that experiencing a character like that helped me with my own confidence.

#ask #astarion #bg3 spoilers

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ultram0th · 2 months

Text

Sometimes Mick felt a little bad about what he’d do. He would transform and mess with men every now and then, experimenting with a variety of victims. Guys who were jerks and needed to be taken down a peg, guys who were good Samaritans and deserved a reward, and some who were just minding their own business. It was the latter that was the most difficult to deal with. Still, whenever that urge to have fun rolled around, it was next to impossible to ignore it.

That just so happened to be the case as Mick relaxed in the sauna at the gym that he frequented. He had no idea who the two muscular men were who walked in after him, one in his mid-fifties while the other was in his early thirties. The way they chatted with one another made it sound like they were friends or at least work out buddies — the older one seemed to be more knowledgeable about workout plans and diets than the younger.

Mick smirked and stood up to leave the sauna, snapping his fingers as he exited the door.

— — —

Adam sat on the sauna bench, enjoying how the hot steam relaxed his tense muscles after his strenuous workout. “Damn,” he huffed, rolling his neck to the side to pop it, “that kicked the crap out of me.”

The older man, Vlad, smirked and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I told you I can whip you into shape,” he chuckled. “We’ll have you contest-ready in no time.”

Adam was interested in getting into natural bodybuilding, and after searching online, had managed to find Vlad who was a certified personal trainer. The older guy had years of experience when it came to helping others bulk up to incredible sizes, so Adam was eager to hire him. Lo and behold, it was only his first session with the guy, and he was already feeling as if his muscles were on fire.

The two men talked about workout plans, not really noticing when the other gym patron left the sauna, snapping his fingers behind him. There was an odd electric feel to the thick, steamy air that passed as soon as it had come.

Adam massaged his already sore pectoral, winded from the workout his trainer had put him through. Still, the results were promising and he found himself incredibly excited for tomorrow’s workout. He glanced over at the older man.

“So, like, what’s the workout plan for tomorrow, Daddy?” he asked in a voice that sounded like it’d shot up several octaves, sounding comical coming from his bulky body. He jerked back in confusion and cleared his throat a couple times, wondering if the steam was just messing with it and making it sound weird; but that didn’t explain the odd inflections or why he’d referred to the older man as ‘Daddy’.

Even Vlad scrunched up his face in confusion, eying the younger man up and down. “I’m gonna work those tight glutes of yours, Babe,” he grunted, his voice sounding deeper and rougher than it had earlier. The older man’s eyes widened in shock at what had left his mouth and he scratched at his chest in wonder, wincing when he felt much more hair on it than usual.

Sure enough, when he looked down at himself, his chiseled chest was covered in dense salt-and-pepper colored hair. What shocked him the most was that his nipples had seemingly inflated, sticking out of the hairy forest by at least half and inch.

“Damn, Boy, Daddy’s nips have gotten so big for ya to suck on,” he heard himself playfully growl, blood draining from his face at his words.

Adam shot to his feet in a panic, his heart racing in his chest. “Daddy, like, what is even happening to us?” he twittered, waving his hands effeminately as he began to fret. He had no idea why he or Vlad were speaking so differently and he began to wonder if it was the steam that was affecting their brains. “Like, maybe this steam is fucking with our heads?”

The two men rushed out of the steam room and stood out in the vacant locker room, both of them panting from a mixture of the heat from the sauna and from the trepidation that filled their worried bodies.

It took them both a second to realize that in their hurry to get out of the sauna and catch their breath, they didn’t notice that they were standing uncomfortably close to one another: Vlad had his buff arm wrapped around Adam’s waist, the latter resting one of his hands on the the former’s hairier chest.

Both men took a quick step away from one another, blushing furiously. Neither of them wanted to admit that they wanted to step closer though, opting to look anywhere but at the other.

Adam took a nervous breath and readied himself to see if all the weirdness really was just due to the steam. “So, like, that was suuuuper weird,” he said, his heart falling at the words that left his mouth.

At the worried look that crossed over Adam’s features, Vlad felt an unknown protective surge inside of him, and he stepped forward and enveloped the smaller man in his arms. He was shocked by his actions, having never held another man so intimately before, but he couldn’t deny that he liked it. “Relax, Baby,” he said. “Let’s go home and figure this out.”

Adam was so focused on how much he loved to have his face shoved in the older man’s hairy chest that he didn’t register that, somehow, the two men knew that they lived together. He nodded and reluctantly pulled himself away from the older man. “Like, that sounds like a great idea, Daddy,” he muttered, pausing when he looked at the other man, staring straight ahead to only see Vlad’s clavicles. “Oh em gee! I, like, totally shrunk!”

When they’d started their workout this morning, Adam had actually been taller than Vlad by at least two inches, but now that he looked at the older man, he realized that he was now the shorter of the two. In his panic, he let his towel fall to the ground.

Vlad winced and fought the lust that ran throughout his hairy body as he stared at the naked man before him. He felt himself lick his lips hungrily as he looked at his younger companion’s bulging pecs and chiseled abs, running his gaze downward to the the two-inch nub that poked out above a set of balls that resembled cherry tomatoes.

“Oh shit,” he grunted. “Babe, please don’t panic, but I think I’m gonna have a lot more fun with your ass than your cock.”

“Like, what are you talking about?” Adam asked, cocking his eyebrow. He looked down at himself in confusion. When he saw his shrunken equipment, he let out a loud shriek of terror. “Like, what happened to my nub?!” He stomped his foot in frustration. “My nub! No, my nub! Fuck me! I don’t have a nub, I have a c-c- NUB!”

“Relax, Babe, you’re gettin’ all worked up,” Vlad said in a calm voice. “Daddy will take care of everything.”

“That’s, like, totally easy for you to say!” Adam spat, putting both of his hands on his hips as he talked. “I, like, get stuck with this puny nub, while you get a big, juicy cock!” He gestured forward at the older man.

Vlad glanced down and nearly fainted when he saw the large tent in his towel. He quickly tossed the cloth to the floor and stared wide-eyed at the foot long cock that was as large as a beer can and balls that were as big as oranges. It waved wildly in front of him and leaked precum the more he looked at the smaller (in both senses of the word) man.

“Daddy, like what happened to us?” Adam panicked, his pathetic nub throbbing with want the more he stared at the older man. “Like, why am I sooooo horny right now?”

Vlad wanted nothing more than to figure out what was wrong too so that they could fix it and return to their normal relationship as trainer and client. However, deep down, the new feelings inside of him made it so that a part of him really didn’t want to go back. “Daddy will take care of that for ya, Babe,” he cooed, walking forward and wrapping his arms around the younger stud affectionately. He bent down and began to kiss up the panicked man’s jawline.

Adam was overcome with such a surge of lust and love for the older man who he called ‘Daddy’, and before he could register what was happening, the two of them were making out in the locker room. The two men felt one another up and it wasn’t long before Vlad was on his back and Adam was bouncing on his cock, grasping both of the older man’s inflated nipples. The two of them heatedly made love in the locker room, being known as the gym’s cutest couple from then on.

#muscle #musclegrowth #bodybuilder #pecs #butt #butt growth #straight-to-gay #cockshrink #daddification #daddy tf #boi toy #himbo #himboification

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multiwreckedmess · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Day 3

Prompt: Hate Sex Pairing: Designer!Hyunjin x femCoder!Reader WC: 2260 Summary: Hyunjin wants one thing from you, stop calling him “pretty boy”, he can’t help he was born beautiful. This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Hyunjin or any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this.

I feel the need especially with “rougher” prompts like this to put the disclaimer - fanfic should NOT ever be used as a guide to relationships or sex. ESPECIALLY SEX. Again, it’s fiction. Stuff gets glossed over for the sake of a good story. Please PLEASE please again, not fact, not a guide, just a fantasy. TW/CW under the cut.

Warnings: reader implied/is a bully, older reader (age gap not specified), name calling (”slut”, “dumbass”, “asshole”, creative insults around genitalia, gendered/misogynist insults), crying during (reader), PWOP, cum in mouth, unprotected intercourse. I’m also going to call out, sort of dubcon-y as most hate sex is.

Pretty boy was not a compliment when you said it. Always laced with venom or a sneer. It was as though you’d branded Hyunjin as worthless with two words. Only good as a person to look at. Objectified and demeaned. Even he couldn’t deny that he was in fact a very pretty man. Long brown hair, full pouty lips, deep irises, with a slender yet muscular frame. Not exactly effeminate but not exactly masculine. A beautiful human no matter how you slice it. Which is why your nickname angered him so much.

It wasn’t easy for you either. Years in the tech field had hardened you. It was a man’s world and you were used to the bro code that had been instilled in you from the early days of voice chat. Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten, bully or become the bullied. The tech sector was the same.

Hyunjin wasn’t even in your cohort but you hated him from the moment you saw him. Fresh intern class filing into the large hall for their orientation. You’d hoped that he’d get eaten alive, the soft sensitive looking man thrown unceremoniously into the pool of piranhas. Instead he was gifted to the design department, a soft job for a soft kid. What was worse was his lack of coding knowledge, mostly having worked in print materials the world of internet and tech was foreign and frustrating. Worse still was that despite this he was good at his job, rising through the ranks to be your equal, forcing the two of you into the same project groups quarter after quarter. Any rank you could pull, you did, age included, and he seemed to take it.

He hadn’t meant to follow you into the windowless supply closet. It just so happened both departments were in dire need of different items. Somehow you’d been conscripted into packaging fancy boxes for capital contributors and design had sent a large order to the floor’s printer with no paper nor ink to spare. The door opening startled you, locking eyes with him as you stare at each other for once devoid of the low boiling slurry of distaste and distrust. Quickly the moment snaps. Returning to the status quo you sigh, “oh, just you, pretty boy.” “Stop calling me pretty boy.” Hyunjin states simply. He doesn’t want to make it a huge fight, trying to assume only your best intentions. Part of him figured this would be the only private moment he’d ever have with you, so might as well make use of it. “Why? It’s true.” You shrug, busy peering in drawers and boxes for your extra packaging supplies. “You’re a very pretty man who is younger than me. A boy. A pretty boy.” “It’s dismissive. I’m more than that,” the tension strains his voice. “You know I’m more than that. I put in work, effort. I have a passion. Just because I can’t translate it to whatever arcane language you use doesn’t-” “Listen pretty boy,” you stand up and sneer at him, eyes locked and narrowed. “If I could afford to be as lacking as you, I would. The world has taught you that all you need to do is the bare fucking minimum and doing anything more is considered a large effort. So, pretty boy, count your blessings if I’m the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.” Hyunjin sucks his teeth, a snort of disbelief escaping. “The only people who have ever called me pretty have either wanted to fuck me or be fucked by me so which one is it for you?” His eyes narrow and study you as he steps closer. Your pulse quickens, blood roiling. How dare this brat? How dare he challenge you. “Neither,” you answer him with daggers in your eyes. His lips twitch at the corners. “Are you sure about that? You’re barely breathing right now. I wonder if I stepped closer,” his voice trails off. “Or maybe brushed against you, by accident of course.” “Even HR couldn’t mediate the amount of lawsuits I’d hit you with.” He’s right. You hold your breath as he gets even closer, just staring. You start to dodge around his side but his body blocks yours, shoulder sinking into his chest as he backs you against the shelves, forcing you to tilt your chin to look up at his face. The way your body so quickly betrayed you was concerning to all the ideals you’d upheld for years, tingling and burning endorphins flooding you with dizzying speed.

Slowly he leans his torso forward almost nose to nose, hands holding onto the shelf and caging you in. “Bet you’ve just been waiting for someone to do this to you, slut.” The sting comes before the sound, your hand crossing his cheek as swiftly as the word leaves his mouth. “Call me a slut again.” “Slut.” He hisses, leaning into you. There isn’t quite the surprise to dull the pain of the hit this time, his body is ready for it as you wind up and slap him again. He half smiles, half smirks, tongue bit between his teeth. “Fuck that’s hot,” your tone is hushed, almost reverent, a revelation as more for yourself than for him. Your lips and tongue clash and fight for dominance as he claims your mouth with his. It’s more a battle than a kiss, both of you unwilling to break first, chasing the other, gasping and groping like teenagers at each other's bodies. He finally breaks, lips pink and puffy and shining with saliva. The clink of the metal buckle of his belt has you practically dripping. Forcefully he spins you and shoves you, face into the roughly coated cinder block wall. “Gonna fuck you like the bitch you are.” He mutters, plosives laced with venom. You moan pathetically as his arm presses to your mid back. “Give it your best shot pretty boy, this making your micropeen hard? Can’t get laid so you have to fight your way into a quick fuck?” Hyunjin laughs, cackles, harshly grabbing your ass. “Could ask the same for you. Truly I can’t imagine anyone wanting to stick their dick anywhere near your cobweb cunt. Should I check? Should I check to see?” “Go ahead dumbass, if you can even find it.” You hiss. “All talk no-” A rip of your stockings and cool air hitting your soaked panties halts the verbal sparring match. Pushing your panties aside he sinks a finger into your hot core, gasping together. “Who’s all talk now? So soaked I slipped right in. Dumb needy hole trying to milk my finger. Gonna thaw you out ice princess.” You hope he does. Dragging your torso down the wall, your back arches into him, pushing his single digit deeper, wiggling your hips. The swish of his pants crumpling to the floor “I’m waiting, pretty boy, or is it already in and I just can’t feel it?” Your negging continues, heart fluttering in anticipation. Everything he does is just out of your range of vision, you have no idea what to expect. Even in your heavy petting you hadn’t grabbed for him. Finger withdrawn he drags the head of his cock along your slit. Hyunjin knows what he’s about to do is mean, he’s felt how tight you are. For a second he considers properly prepping you, stretching you out nicely before abusing your hole. Poised at your entrance he grabs a fistful of hair at the nape of your neck, lips pressing to the shell of your ear. “Ready princess?” “On you pretty boy,” you sneer in response. The blunt pressure of his thick member ripping through your walls twists your stomach. Filling you in a single push, Hyunjin muffles your scream with his lips. It steals your breath as your body fights the intrusion. Your legs alternate kicking and shaking below you, suddenly happy to have Hyunjin’s weight pinning you up to the wall.

“Dumb slut, do you want to get caught? Screaming like that you’ll let the whole company know you’re bending over like a bitch for me.” Hyunjin chides, holding still inside you. His harsh words soothed by his hands, gingerly fixing your hair to the opposite shoulder. Arms wrapping around your chest and waist he holds you close, face buried in your neck. “Big right?” The soft words are muffled by your skin. “Mhmphf.” His teeth run over sensitive spots along your neck, sending you shivering and shuddering in his grasp. “Good right?” “Yeeehsthhh!” You lisp and writhe. “Embarrassing right? Getting run through by some kid like me. Gonna slut you out princess.” Turning your head so you are nose to nose you growl, “shut up and fuck me, pretty boy.” Hearing his nickname he laughs, blood boiling a bit harder, and unceremoniously pulls out. A pitiful whine escapes your lips with the loss of pressure in your gut. Before you can scold him again he pushes all the way to the hilt again, hearing the air catching in your throat from words lost to pleasure. Each thrust is slow and torturous, felt to the fullest by your walls hugging him in. Despite not working hard you pant like a cat in heat, overwhelmed by the ache of your cunt. “Afraid you’re gonna cum first?” You jab between groans, frustration clouding your senses. He’s just too slow to build past the agonizing beginnings of your orgasm. “‘M being kind, can’t have you passing out on me.” “Bold of you.” Sucking a small bruise into your neck he buries himself deeply inside of you. “If you insist.” Instead of withdrawing again his hand skims down your belly to your mound, long thin fingers circling your clit. Each passing swipe coordinates with a shallow thrust, just enough to stimulate you inside and out. All you can do is take what he is giving you, body giving up to his ministrations. “Shit I think-” you gasp and shake, “I’m gonna cum.” “I bet you are.” Hyunjin sneers, “and who is to thank for that?” “You. You are. You.” You burble. “Who?” His grasp harshens, hips snapping harder. “HYUNJIN. Fucking asshole. You. Hyunjin. Fuck.” You cum violently around him, walls of your sex baring down on him as a fresh wave of arousal coats the both of you. You cry out, fat tears welling in your eyes as overstimulation hits you like a train, moans turning to choked sobs as you try to catch your breath. Both of you are sweaty, you shake. Hyunjin maneuvers the both of you to your knees on the ground, your body leaving a shine to the wall where it was pressed. He pulls his slacks under your arms to cushion what they could from the cement. “I made you cum, your turn.” “Wha?” His hand comes down hard on your ass, snapping you out of your lusty haze. “Fuck yourself on my cock.” The demanding and demeaning tone has your blood rushing even in your sensitive state. With a sniffle you start moving your hips back and forth, each slide making a grotesque sloppy slick sound. Hyunjin pushes back his sweat and hair from his brow, eyes locked to where he disappears inside of you. “Cunt looks good hugging my cock like this.” If he’s all about visuals, you’ll be a feast for his eyes. You gorge yourself on him, taking your time like he did to you. Rolling your hips decadently and letting your greedy pussy work itself around him. Hyunjin tries to keep his hands from you, to make you do the work, to take a small petty revenge for the multitude of emails politely thrown back to him by you. He can’t, finally folding, grabbing fistfulls of ass and hips and thighs. He joins you, bent over and caging you again like an animal. Together, writhing as one, grunting as one, your chemistry has never worked better. But it can’t last forever, you can feel his thick muscle seizing inside of you, lower abs and thighs tensing against the cleft of your ass. “Where,” chokes in a stuttered hurried whisper. “I’m gonna-” Summoning strength you push up, righting the both of you, pulling him out. It’s the first good luck you’ve gotten of him, flushed red and sweaty and fucked out. He’s impressive for a skinny guy, thick and veiny and heavy in your hands as you continue to stroke him out of habit. Fingers covered in slick release precum flows freely from the tip. “Mouth. Hurry.” Standing shakily he leans back into the wall, “gonna swallow like a good slut?” Holding the head of his dick to your tongue he pumps pointed down your throat. Your tongue flexes against the underside, massaging the ridge. Hyunjin can’t believe his eyes, you kneeling in front of him, defiantly staring him down as you wait for him to cum. Almost daring him to spill his load anywhere else. With an airy whine a globule of release hits your tongue, hot and bitter. Hyunjin’s hips kick forward, fucking his palm and the top of your tongue, pushing his cum deeper into your throat and making you gag. “Shit,” he hisses as you gag again, another string shooting directly into your throat. Palm to his hip you slide his cock further back, using it to force the bitter seed into your stomach. “Holy shit you’re really-god your throat-that-keep that.” Gulping the last down you pull from him grimacing and wiping your face. “Two words; pineapple juice, pretty boy.” “That’s four.”

I always get carried away lmao. This is definitely towards the rougher end of my comfort zone with characters. I can’t help be aware of the fact that some people do take fanfic as a guide to what to expect or hope for with their relationships so it’s a little difficult for me to push that to the back of my mind.

#hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #stray kids hyunjin smut #hyunjin kinktober #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids kinktober #skz kinktober #kpop kinktober #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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it-happened-one-fic · 18 days

Note

Hello!! I hope you have a good day... Actually it's my first time here at Tumblr and my first time for asking a request.... So if possible can you write an oneshot about azul x freader..Where Azul is in conflict with his feelings bc he's in deep love with the reader but confounded of that, he thinks that the reader is a boy, But the truth is that the reader is a girl that hides her gender

I hope you are comfortable with this request and if it is full of fluff and heavy against I would be very grateful(Sorry for my bad English)

Hello Anon and welcome to Tumblr! There's no need to apologize for your English and I was both thrilled and flattered to receive your request! I must admit that I hadn't ever written anything quite like it before, but enjoyed myself while working on your request. I apologize for the wait and I hope you enjoy your fic!

Secrets - Azul

Type: (secretly)Female reader/ Fluff with angst/ romantic

Word Count: 2406

Azul was confused, to put it lightly. He had been for quite some time now. In fact, he had been since his overblot. But his confusion had nothing to do with his experience overblotting. Instead, his confusion had everything to do with you.

Simply put, you had somehow charmed him, which was the last thing he’d ever expected to occur when he’d first come to this school or when he’d first seen you.

For one thing, you were one of the most ridiculously effeminate young men he’d ever seen, and all of the teachers favored you. And, in all his years of going to school, he’d never been overly fond of teachers’ pets.

Instead, it had always been his experience that teachers’ pets were competition, and unfair competition at that. Because the teachers would and could play favorites when it came to their beloved favorite student.

But perhaps what was worse was how he couldn’t seem to get close to you.

Oh, it wasn’t that you pushed him away or anything like that. In fact, you were quite kind. Frustratingly and endearingly so. Rather, it was that he couldn’t get close to you because of how staunchly protective of you Deuce and Ace were.

No matter what he tried, the two of them seemed to always be popping up and eyeing him suspiciously before asking you if all was well.

It was a stark contrast to how they’d all but cowered before him when he’d had them under employment by contract.

And what was all the more frustrating was how, time and time again, you chose to rely on them instead of him.

Which was utterly ridiculous. He had more connections, more know-how, was a better magician, and had been the one to help you during the entire mess at the Scarabia dorm.

But, without fail, you’d turn to one of them when something came up. Which told Azul everything he had already known and suspected, even if it hurt.

You preferred them over him and trusted them in ways you didn’t trust him.

And it stung. Especially after you’d seemed to accept him—tentacles and all—after his overblot and didn’t obviously seem to fear or be wary of him or the tweels. It was just that you didn’t want him.

Not to lean on, not to spend time with, and not to whisper about secrets with that would have one of your chosen friends nodding their head before you stepped out of the classroom while they whispered something to the teacher, who would inevitably accept the excuse because you were, for better or worse, all of the teachers’ pet.

Floyd and Jade had, of course, been amused when they’d first discovered his plight. Smiling smugly down at him before exchanging a shared glance.

“What makes you think that our dear little Prefect is a favorite of the teachers? They have to do just as many chores in regards to keeping the classroom clean as everyone else,” Jade didn’t even try to hide his smug amusement.

Azul felt himself scowl up at his vice-housewarden, immediately annoyed by how obviously mocking the words were, “Because. They get to skip out on P.E. classes when no one else does every month. And it can’t have anything to do with not having magic. It’s just them making use of the fact that Vargas favors them over everyone else.”

Floyd outright smirked at Azul’s annoyance, “Maybe it’s something to do with a health issue. Shrimpy is kind of small after all, and Mackerel is always talking about how he’s worried about them on those days and that he’s gonna check up on them.”

Azul felt himself prickle at the sound of Deuce, immediately ignoring the sting of jealousy as he snapped back, “It’s not a health issue. They are as healthy a young man as anyone else is. They’ve probably just fooled Deuce somehow. Though why he has to check up on them is beyond me, they’re hardly helpless.”

And evidently enough, he surprised them as both of the twins' eyes went wide at his words and they looked towards each other. Something unspoken passed between them before a perfectly evil grin curled across each of their identical faces.

“Why, Azul, you sound jealous of this ‘young man.’” Jade all but cooed the words as Floyd nodded.

At odds with Jade’s more subtle harassment, Floyd held nothing back, “Or maybe he’s jealous of Mackerel~”

Azul regretted it the moment he twitched because the tweels grinned almost at the exact same time. Latching on to that subtle cue as to his true frustrations the second it reared its head.

“Oh, Azul. Don’t tell me you want to be the one taking care of the Prefect?” Jade was outright chuckling now as Azul glowered up at him from his seat behind his desk.

Floyd snickered, “Of course he does. He’s got a crush on lil ol’ Shrimpy. Don’t cha’?”

Azul’s left eye twitched, his voice coming out low and only barely controlled “I don’t have a ‘crush’ on anyone, Floyd. Much less him.”

Jade’s long fingers tapped against his cheek, “Oh yes, certainly not ‘him.’”

Floyd giggled at his brother’s words as Jade looked knowingly over at his twin. Their actions cause Azul’s eyes to narrow.

It was strange how they kept emphasizing words like ‘him’ and ‘young man.’ Almost like they were dangling something over Azul’s head, just a little too far out of reach but low enough to catch his attention.

“You know, they skipped out on class today as well… Why don’t you go and see them yourself. Maybe you’ll be able to find out whatever secret it is that they have that causes the teachers’ to favor them over others,” Jade’s words had Azul’s eyes widening.

Go visit you…?

It was something that he’d considered in the past but had never actually done so. After all, he wasn’t a glutton for punishment. If you had chosen Ace and Deuce over him, then so be it.

But it was true that he’d never been one to turn down finding out another person’s secret. And if, by some strange occurrence, there was something wrong with you, then it couldn’t hurt to see how you were doing.

And so Azul went, wondering all the while if this was some horrid mistake.

It was obvious that the tweels knew something that he didn’t, though what that might be, he didn’t know.

He could only hope that neither of your friends would be around to get in the way when he got to your dorm.

And luck was on his side, because neither of the Heartslabyul freshmen were visible when he arrived at Ramshackle dorm. Plus, he didn’t have to worry about you not being there since he could clearly see a light on through the window.

Azul squared his shoulders as he stepped up on the rickety porch, resolving to get to the bottom of why you were treated as so special by the teachers.

He knew you were special, but something told me the reasons for his fondness for you had very little to do with the teachers’ behavior.

And if he’d been wrong and you did have some form of health issue… Well, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to offer you some help.

At least then, you might realize that he was just as worthy of our trust and time as your friends. Though he wasn’t exactly aiming for the position of friend, per say….

But at least being a little closer to you might not sting as much as his current position.

He knocked on the door, the rapping of his knuckles on the wood sounding just a little bit too loud to his own ears and making him wonder, for what had to be the thousandth time, if he were making a mistake.

What if you didn’t want to see him? Just because Deuce always came to check on you didn’t mean that Azul would be just as welcome…. If that were the case, coming to visit certainly wasn’t going to endear him to you.

Before he could even think about retreating, the door cracked open, and you peered. Your appearance causing Azul to blink in surprise.

You looked exhausted and were hunched over, a hand pressed to your stomach as you blinked up at him with weary eyes.

“I already told you, Deuce. I’m fine. It’s just the usual monthly-” You cut off sharply as your gaze collided with Azul’s startled one, and your eyes went wide.

“A-Azul!” You all but stammered out his name as you pulled backwards, hiding yourself behind the door in a way that made Azul frown as you cringed. Almost as if moving too quickly had caused some sort of pain.

You were in bad shape. Horrible even, if simply moving agitated whatever state you were in.

He reached, putting his hand on the door and lightly trying to open it so he could better see you, as his tone shifted into something far more concerned, “Angelfish, are you-”

“I’m fine!” Your words came out too fast, and your smile looked almost desperate.

They were actions that Azul recognized all too well from his experiences trying to get information. You were hiding something. Something you desperately didn’t want him to find out.

What was strange, though, was that you weren’t scared.

Despite your determination to keep this secret, whatever it was, in no way were you afraid of Azul or even him finding out whatever it was you were hiding.

You let out a weak laugh, adjusting your grip on the door and keeping Azul from opening it any further, “Really, I’m fine, Azul. Thank you for coming by, but you don’t have to worry. Ace and Deuce already stopped by and even made me lunch.”

You couldn’t know that mentioning them was a mistake, but it quite simply was. Because it confirmed what he’d already suspected and chaffed old wounds to both his pride and unspoken feelings.

Just like the tweels, Ace and Deuce knew your secret too.

And it was infuriating.

Just how many did you trust and tell your secret to outside of him? Was Azul the only one you felt you couldn't trust?

Why? He might hold information over other people, but not you. Especially not when it was something that was obviously compromising your health.

“Angelfish…. Whatever’s wrong, you can tell me. I came here to check in on you and…” Azul paused, all but frowning at his own timidity, which was so at odds with his frustration.

He didn’t know what was wrong, but the longer he looked at you, the more worried and frustrated he got.

He shook his head, making a decision that he didn’t know was for the best, and Azul knew it was unlike him. Because normally he’d err on the side of caution and respect your secret-keeping. But he couldn’t this time. Not if you were in trouble or pain.

He inhaled deeply, letting himself openly frown as he straightened and picked back up where he left off in a more resolute tone, “And I’m sorry, but I’m not leaving until I know you’re fine. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

He pulled open the door, causing you to stumble forward in surprise, your foot catching on the door frame and sending your tumbling forwards with a tiny shriek of surprise.

And Azul caught you easily, despite his surprise, which was when he felt it as you fell against him.

Something that was soft, answered a lot of questions, and completely gave away your secret.

He blinked down at you as you straightened, your arms crossing nervously in front of your chest as you looked away from him.

“Angelfish, you-”

“I’m a girl,” You cut him off quickly, avoiding eye contact and looking most anywhere but him until you winced and your hand went back to your stomach.

Azul felt himself frown, his confusion only growing until you at last met his gaze weakly, “I’m a girl, and all that’s wrong is I’m cramping….. My period just started for this month.”

At first, all he could manage was a soft ‘Ah,’ as he stared at you before all the pieces clicked together in his head.

That was why the tweels had reacted the way they had to his words describing you as a young man. They’d known you were a woman because they could smell the changes in your hormones.

“Then Deuce and Ace-”

“Already know,” You finished lightly, stepping back and letting Azul finish entering the space, even as he frowned at you slightly.

You shifted, sighing slightly, “They found out early on… But I’ve kept it a secret from everyone else.”

Azul blinked down at you quietly before softly voicing his next question, and perhaps the most important one of all, “Why?”

You met his gaze, your expression perfectly exhausted, “Because Crowley said it might be easier for me that way since this is an all-boys school. If I’m not a girl, then there’s no chance of anyone being weird because I’m a girl.”

Azul nodded, still frowning, before shaking his head, “Do you need to sit down? You look exhausted.”

A feeble smile crossed your face as he gestured towards where he knew your living area was, and you nodded.

He cleared his throat lightly as he walked with you, “And you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone. I won’t-”

“I know you won’t, Azul,” He froze at the way you smiled at him, blinking as you laughed lightly at his startled expression. “You might use a lot of people’s secrets against them, but I know you won’t use this against me. Not when you came to check up on me and make sure I was alright.”

Azul had to fight the urge to get defensive, fluster at your soft words, or protest against the implication that he cared.

After all, it was painfully true that he cared. But enough secrets had been revealed for now, and Azul was willing to simply rest in the knowledge that it wasn’t necessarily that you’d ever favored or trusted anyone over him. It was just that they’d already found out about your secret, and he hadn’t.

So for now, he would keep his silence and reveal his secret to you later.

Even if Floyd had already called him out on his crush.

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