#the fun thing about ocs is i can lament all i like about how he's my sweet baby boy and he deserves better but unlike with characters from

[another-lost-mc]

I’ve been really enjoying your writing; especially your OC lore. Can I ask what their first thoughts of Mc were and what was the push that they needed to pursue Mc?

Karasu first interacts with MC using the D.D.D. while he oversees how the exchange program students are using Devildom technology and how their experience can be improved. He kind of develops a bit of a crush the more they talk, especially when their conversations become friendlier and more personal. It's easier to do behind a screen, and eventually he wants more from their interactions. That little crush amplifies after he meets MC for the first time, because everything that he likes about MC in their text or phone conversations is so much more intense in-person.

Azra has two possibilities for meeting/interacting with MC: in canon when MC visits The Fall, or his story's canon AU where he lives with MC at the House of Lamentation for a month (based on a Devilgram in the OG game). Either way, his ownership of The Fall is going to put him in close proximity to MC when they start visiting the club for fun (or for special events/private parties if they're not a regular club-goer).

If MC is out-going and enjoys clubbing/parties, he's going to be curious about them simply because they're becoming a regular guest at his club and it's not often he gets to spend time with humans. If MC only attends the club on rare occasions (if they're shy or have other issues like noise sensitivity etc.), then he's going to be surprisingly considerate and offer things that might make MC's visit more comfortable. That might mean adjusting the menu if MC has specific food or drink preferences, or offering them use of his private office (which was built to block out most of the club noise) if they need a break away from the crowds. He'll openly flirt with an MC that tries to flirt with him first, and he'll be sweet and reassuring with an MC that's visibly out of place in that type of environment.

He tells himself that he's only doing what any responsible host and business owner would do - the last thing he needs is someone like Lucifer implying that he's too arrogant to cater towards the realm's new exchange students. In terms of emotions, he falls hard and fast, and how quickly he decides to pursue MC will depend on how flirty (or not) MC is with him first.

Zee is very professional at first when it comes to meeting and interacting with MC. Azra might declare that the club needs to change something - the menu, the drink selection- to make it more inclusive to the human exchange students (only MC really, he doesn't give a toss about Solomon), but it's Zee that does the leg work to figure out what those options are and implementing those changes.

He's very good at spying covert intelligence gathering, and he has contacts all over the Devildom that can get him information or access he needs for a price. He's also excellent at reading people, so as he gathers more information about what to expect from their new human guest, he can already start to piece together the type of person MC is and prepare himself accordingly for when they inevitably cross paths.

Zee's relationship with MC culminates from a combination of teasing and mutual interest/attraction (with a lot of denial on his part). Their interactions at the club spill over into other parts of MC's life in the Devildom too, and at some point, the tension that slowly builds between them reaches a boiling point. He can seem a little hot-and-cold because of how guarded he can be, but he's also very intense when he lets his mask of indifference slip. Where Karasu and Azra are purposeful and sometimes clumsy in their courtships, Zee's relationship with MC will have drastic shifts that seemingly come out of nowhere (but not really, it's simply a matter of time before one of them breaks in this little game of cat-and-mouse they play with each other).

#jes.replies #jes.oc asks #my oc: karasu #my oc: azra #my oc: zekhan

[esta-elavaris]

Flufftober Day 20: Wearing Each Other's Clothing - Boromir/OC [1,186 words]

My Flufftober '23 masterpost can be found here, and my currently ongoing main fic about these two is here 💜✨

Just a note on my fills for these two, considering their fic is still underway - two of the three fills planned will feature them as an established couple (which they are not yet in the main fic), as is the case in this one. The remaining one is an AU of them meeting in a different way. I'm writing the established couple fills from a standpoint of it taking place in a perfect utopian future, so what happens here has no bearing on what may or may not happen in the actual fic. There are no spoilers in that sense!

All of that being said...it was so much fun to write this while the main fic is still slow burning. We stray ever so slightly towards NSFW territory here, but no actual smut. I don't want to write that for them until we reach that point in the main fic.

Tagging @scyllas-revenge as promised 💜

Given that Sybil’s husband was far more extroverted than she – not that such a thing was difficult to achieve – it came as no surprise to her that there were evenings where she retired to their chambers for the evening long before he did. If anything, she viewed the number of times he did return with haste as a mark of his favour, if the notion of being alone with her could pry him so readily away from his men and their spirited swapping of war stories.

She quickly developed a routine she rather enjoyed for the nights in which she had to entertain herself, as it was something she was hardly a stranger to before they met. Shirking her gown for comfier garb, she’d huddle down on the furs before the hearth with a hot cup of tea at her side and a book in hand, warming her feet before the fire as she sank into whatever tale awaited between the pages.

It was a mark of victory, she thought, in their relationship that he did not resent her for not seeking company to the extent he did, and that she did not lament over the end of her solitude when he would come to her. For there was never any reading thereafter. That probably helped with the lack of resentment, she supposed – not because the books were bad, but because he was very good. In every way.

By the time she heard him enter the antechamber to their rooms, she was quite content to close the book. Not without a bit of teasing first, however.

Sprawled like a cat before the fire, she reclined back, her bare legs stretching out before her, her borrowed shirt coincidentally rumpled at her mid-thigh. From there, she held the book aloft over her head, angling it towards the light of the fire and doing a passable job at pretending she still had any interest in it. She had to hope Boromir would not pause in their sitting room before he came through, for her arms would soon start to ache.

He was either merry or tipsy – perhaps both – as he entered their bedroom, greeting her warmly before he even saw her.

“How are you this night, my love?”

“I’m well. I’m almost at the end of this chapter.”

“Should I take my leave?” he teased. “There was nothing-”

Sybil allowed her eyes to pass over two more sentences before she ‘noticed’ how he’d stop mid-speech upon finally looking at her. Closing the book, she slowly sat up. The shirt dwarfed her, and one side of the neckline slid down her left shoulder as she sat up. That bit hadn’t been planned, but it did add to the effect rather nicely, her curls tumbling forward as she straightened.

To say the look on her husband’s face was heated would be like comparing the fire at her side to a single candle flame.

“You haven’t finished your sentence,” she prompted.

“Did I not?” there was a rueful glint to his gaze. “I’ve forgotten.”

“Have you?”

“Mm.”

“Why is that? Are you unwell?”

He chuckled lowly. Rather than joining her, he moved to sit at the edge of their bed where he might observe her clearly in her entirety.

“Sybil.”

“Yes, husband?”

“Is that my shirt?”

She languidly crossed one leg over the other, and found his eyes were pinned to every single motion. Bera had often liked to chuckle of how men tired of their wives within weeks of the wedding. Bera had been very, very wrong.

Or maybe Sybil had just been very, very lucky.

“It’s rather comfortable,” she answered.

“It’s far too big for you.”

His eyes were still on her legs.

“Does it not suit me?”

“I didn’t say that,” he smirked, and then added after a moment’s thought, meeting her gaze then. “Of course, I would have to see it properly to come to a final opinion on the matter.”

Sybil felt her cheeks blaze – which she worried ruined the effect of her little game, right up until it brought a handsome, boyish grin to his face. For he did so like when she blushed, and it remained easy to induce. For him more than any other.

But she had started this little game, and so she would not be cowed. Sliding the book aside, she mustered all the grace she had to rise smoothly to her feet – for losing her balance and stumbling back into the fire would ruin the direction she very much hoped this night was taking. The shirt fell almost to her knee once she’d risen, but if anything the movement left her more exposed, the fire behind her casting every detail of her form in shadow beneath the thin white shirt.

Boromir’s smile remained, but it was no longer boyish.

She decided to push it. For why not? Extending her arms – which had the coincidental effect of causing the hem of the shirt to rise to near-scandalous heights – she turned slowly beneath his gaze.

“Well?” she prompted when she was done.

“Hm,” he replied. “A closer look is still needed, I think.”

“It’s a cool night,” she feigned hesitation, casting a glance back towards the fire. “I don’t wish to grow cold.”

He chuckled lowly, leaning forward on his elbows as he regarded her like she was a banquet meal.

“My love, I give you my solemn vow that you shall be very warm indeed.”

Before she was even fully within arm’s reach he was jolting forward and pulling her nearer, teaching her to never underestimate his agility as she was drawn into his lap atop the bed. With one hand planted firmly at the small of her back, keeping her in place, he slid backwards a little so that there was no risk of her tumbling back onto the floor.

Sybil's legs were forced wide apart in an effort to straddle him, and his free hand quickly found one of the thighs he'd just been admiring so, smoothing up and down the soft expanse of skin with a sword-roughened grasp. He was right. There was no risk of her growing cold. Arms wrapping around his neck for closeness just as much as purchase, she pressed herself against him and sighed her dellight as he kissed her. Boromir kissed the same way he did everything - decisively, boldly, and fiercely. With a want that staggered her every time. Had she been daft enough to doubt the intensity of his desire for her, one kiss would have dispelled those doubts outright as she squirmed beneath his roaming hands, his beard tickling her skin as he began to kiss his way down her neck, to the shoulder exposed by his shirt.

But when she moved to pull the shirt off to clear his way, he pulled back.

"No," he breathed, a gleam in his eye. "Not yet. Leave it on."

It was at least an hour before he even bothered to take his shirt back – and it became one of his favourites thereafter...although Sybil could never quite manage to see him in it without blushing at the sight. So he made sure to wear it often.

Links: AO3 -- FF.net -- flufftober masterpost -- dividers by cafekitsune

#esta's flufftober '23 fills #flufftober2023 #flufftober 2023 #boromir x oc #boromir/oc #lotrfic #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings fanfic #boromir fanfiction #HWFG #boromir/sybil

[archduke-enver-gortash]

one thing I enjoy about you doing personified concepts w your OCs is how it allows you to imagine these massive-scale dynamics on an interpersonal scale in a way you normally don't see. A regular person's vibe can be greatly informed by a concept (like the untameability of nature, the apex predator, or the apple in the garden of Eden) but there's a bunch of other stuff in them too that isn't that: their upbringing? daily life? appearance? this adds dimension to a character but in some contexts it a distraction.

for Zeke, *all* of it is the wild, the beast. every trait he has is drawn from that. a concept incarnate! Bizarre example but for normal characters you could say something like "A is treating B poorly because she is a woman." There's sexism, there's questions you might have about both characters. But imagine if instead B is the very concept of a woman, the societal construction made manifest? What interpersonal treatment would depict the vast breadth of experiences and of suffering? What are the metaphors? this is weirder, more fun!

I saw a post once a while back where someone lamented that they tend to kink on societal dynamics instead of interpersonal ones, which makes describing (and creating) things that satisfy their interests more difficult. If you remove the element that it has to be a kink thing, in a sense you are doing something like that, and you do an excellent job pulling it off esp considering it's pretty unusual!

thank you so much truly!!! this is the only way i really enjoy creating and writing characters so i’m very very glad when people like it despite the unusualness haha. playing with metaphors and symbolism is so much more fun to me this way. like how gortash never technically met zeke as a bhaalspawn until he was in his early forties, but he still desperately tries to know and destroy the concept that is zeke since he can form a sound thought. in my fics i have gortash narrate in the second person about zeke and this ‘you’ he is describing is the same ‘you’ he uses to describe a bird he caught in his early childhood in one of my fics. shit like that. very fun and sorry for the ramble lmao.

[lordoftherazzles]

Alright folks! I know I'm not really doing much for the AU-Gust event for FOTFICs, but when given the opportunity to finally write something for my beloved @i-did-not-mean-to, I simply HAD to! It's definitely not my usual sort of writing, but I had fun with it.

I hope you enjoy it, my friend!!

Characters: Ori x OC, Nori

Prompt: Poorly timed confessions + "Sorry I took so long"

Words: 1624

The mountain had been won, and restoration over the winter had been anything but dull, so for these quiet moments, Ori often found himself near the back of any gathering of dwarrow, even during meals if he could help it. Thankfully, ever since Bilbo had come into the company, some of the more hobbity ways of life had merged their way into the lives of the dwarrow. Perhaps that was more Thorin’s doing than anything, to help keep his new interest feeling at home, but it did give the others a fair chance at properly taking care of themselves.

At least when supplies and provisions were not something they had to scavenge for.

Sitting tucked away at the farthest end of one of the large stone tables of the feasting hall, Ori had a blank journal spread in front of him, food casually to the side, and a look of pure thought across his features. A bead sat stationary within the gutter of those blank pages he had yet to decorate with ink. The bead was immaculate, just as it was important. It was a reminder of the things he had left behind prior to this quest of Thorin’s that had now come to a close.

There were so few things that had made it all the way from Ered Luin to Erebor, and this was one of them. A small, but hardy thing, much like the dwarrowdam who had gifted it to him. Plucking the bead and rolling it between his fingers, a fond curve pulled at the corner’s of Ori’s lips, examining the design of that which was most special to him. He wondered how Lílja was doing these days. Was she still the studious dam he remembered? Or too busy breaking the hearts of many a dwarrow with an axe in hand?

Or perhaps breaking them literally.

It often made the scholarly dwarf wonder what she had seen in him, for she had been a force to be reckoned with. Smart, lovely, and fierce. Sighing to himself as he rolled that bead around once more, Ori’s lips dropped, his eyes falling closed and remembering a time that felt like so long ago…and yet, wasn’t that long ago at all.

The night before leaving Ered Luin, after many months of shy glances and careful gestures, Ori had been ready to pour his heart out. At first, he had thought of simply writing something and leaving it behind for Lílja, such as a letter or a poem, something to truly get his thoughts down, but in the end, he’d opted for verbally stumbling his way through a proper confession of his admiration. 

Much to his surprise, while formerly forehead to forehead with the lovely dam he missed, Ori’s feelings had been reciprocated with the bead that was currently being rolled between his fingers.

A clap against the back of his shoulder sent the dwarf nearly jumping out of his skin.

“Thinking about your beaut, again, little brother?” Nori teased, fully thrilled to have caught Ori off guard as the younger dwarf fumbled with that bead, clutching it to his chest. “You could always write to her, you know.”

“The ravens have been working hard to deliver far more important things from our king to his sister, I would hate to overwork them…” Ori sighed, not bothering to shrug the arm that was suddenly slung over his arm as he relaxed, his eyes falling upon the bead in his palm once more. “I do miss her though.”

“Anyone with eyes can see that. Even Bilbo’s caught on!” Nori teased, reaching a hand over and playfully tweaking Ori's cheek, and finally getting a swat in his direction. “I have faith that you’ll get to see your dwarrowdam sooner rather than later.”

“Much as I would love that, I can’t help but believe that Lílja will be upset with me for leaving her like I did,” Ori lamented with a roll of his eyes before they settled on the king and consort-to-be that looked so dopey and enamored, reminding him of the doe eyes he’d been teased about making at Lí. “Did we look like that?”

“Even more sickeningly sappy, I promise.”

Trust in Nori to be honest, anyway. Ori took the words with grace though as he felt a smile pull at his lips, offering a grateful nod towards his older brother. “Perhaps I’ll have to come up with something more romantic if she ever speaks to me again after that poorly timed confession. Perhaps a bead of my own? Or a poem…”

“Or one of the thousands of sketches you’ve done of her since we left. I’m sure she’d keel over just knowing she’s not left your mind since we hit the road.” Squeezing Ori a bit in that shoulder-slung grip. “She’s a fine dam, you know.”

“She is!” Ori’s voice rose an octave, agreeing excitedly and quickly. “She’s fierce, and smart, and her beard…” The longing sigh could have blown the entire mountain away if it had just a little bit more force.

Hearing the quick scraping of boots against stone, Ori perked up to notice Thorin racing beyond his table, Bilbo at his heels and mentioning something about the first caravans from Ered Luin. Sharing a glance with Nori, Ori was quickly on his own feet as other dwarrow were also trickling their way to the main gate to welcome the first of those from the Blue Mountains. “You don’t think…?”

“Let’s go get your dam,” Nori urged, pushing Ori along.

Waiting anxiously, Ori bounced from foot to foot, a bead still clasped in his hand while a journal was long forgotten back in the feasting hall. His eyes were constantly moving, recognizing most faces, but none stuck out to him as important as the one he wanted to see. While watching Thorin embrace his sister, and how she eagerly was greeting Bilbo, it only produced a small smirk of amusement, but his attention continuously moved from dwarf to dwarf. 

Whatever small surge of hope had flooded Ori’s chest began to wither away, right up until the point where he heard his name ringing loudly like a gong, It felt like the world had slowed as a particular dwarrowdam emerged from the caravan crowd with a very unimpressed look to her face as her eyes met his. It felt like being caught in the grip of trolls, that gaze, and Ori almost wished he’d stayed behind with his journal and his memories.

“She looks mad,” Nori whispered from behind in his ear, keeping the younger dwarf from tucking tail.

“Thank you for pointing that out,” Ori hissed, already aware of that fact as the dam in question was stomping his way. Furious as she looked, the warmth that bubbled about in his heart couldn’t be helped. She looked just as lovely as he remembered. The way her beard moved as she did, and the little glimpses of those heavily pierced ears, and the tattoos! He’d take an angry Lílja any day, over no Lílja at all.

“Best of luck, little brother,” Nori teased before retreating back a few steps, eager to watch from afar as the dark haired dam got within reach. All he hoped was that Ori didn’t stumble over his words again.

Bracing himself as Lílja stormed her way over, Ori forced a smile to his lips, shy as it was. “Hi Lí,” he barely stammered at least, his fingers locking together as he half expected for an axe to land in his skull, or a fist to clock his jaw.

“Hi? That’s all you have to say?” Lílja huffed as she took those last few steps and her arms moved, though not in the way anyone expected considering her stomping display across the stone. Instead, her hands moved to cup the sides of Ori’s face gently. “I’m sorry I took so long…” she murmured. 

Reaching up to clasp around Lílja’s wrists, one hand awkwardly while hanging onto a bead, Ori felt his heart flutter, practically soaring to the heavens as his grin widened. “What do you mean? I’m the one who left—”

“And to say you were simply leaving for the Shire!” Lí snorted, “but…I’m sorry I took so long in getting here so that I could tell you to never do that again. Or at least take me with you! Our foolhardy king could have likely used a bit of sense among his company!”

Ori couldn’t help but laugh, flashing a glance over towards Thorin, Bilbo, and Lady Dis. “We had a bit of unexpected sense join our company, but I’m certain having you along would have spared us many headaches.”

“The Hobbit, over there?”

“Our burglar,” Ori winced as he watched Dis’ skull crash into Bilbo’s, and Thorin practically fell over in worry at the gesture.  “And the future Consort Under the Mountain, should he survive Thorin’s sister. You will love him just as we do,” 

“I can’t wait to meet him then, but until then, tell me all about this quest, for I have missed you dearly.” Lílja was quick to bonk her forehead far gentler against Ori’s before latching onto his arm, ready to be escorted deeper into the mountain and get a full retelling of the Quest for Erebor, now that seeing the victory had calmed her once worried heart.

“Of course, amrâlimê. I have a whole journal to show you!”

Typical Ori, and the truth of it was, seeing him alive and well had calmed her, not Erebor, not the king’s success, but Ori, and she wasn’t planning on letting him out of her grasp anytime soon—come dragonfire or high water.

#i hope you enjoy this lil thing my friend! #the hobbit #ori #ori the dwarf #ori x oc #nori #this is my first x oc writing lolol i'm expanding!!! #razzledrabbles #razzywrites #hobbit fic #fotfics

[sroop]

guided (updated version)

He should tell her, he knows. All those nights laid alone after she'd left imagining everything he wanted to tell her.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!OC

Summary: Din loses his son and his Creed, and took it out on Reyza. Now they're reunited on Tatooine.

Warnings/Notes: smidge of suggestiveness, a little angst. Also, Fennec Shand was part of Polaris in this series!

For some context, this takes place between seasons 2 and 3 of the Mandalorian and during The Book of Boba Fett's season one, when Din helps out on Tatooine. Also, Mandalorians can only marry non-Mandalorians if they become Mandalorian (from what I gather from my research), and the OC and Din have been together unofficially for some time before this.

A/N: I've been writing the guided series for a bit now, and it was so much fun I decided to rework some of the details and characters! The other mini chapters I've been posting will stay up, but aren't what is necessarily "canon" in this new updated version (i'll change their titles to avoid any confusion). Anyway, this is the first chapter I'm posting, but I won't be posting chronologically because I just prefer to write jumping all over the place. Hope someone out there likes it because I really like writing this!

{}{}{}{}

Din tries not to jolt upright in his bed when she knocks on his door, searching for permission to enter the room he'd been given. He hangs himself casually over the pillows instead, propped up languidly, grunting an affirmative. He wants to look laidback, like he doesn't care. He didn't want her to know he was starting to wonder if it was normal for his heart to beat so quickly, for his hands to shake.

"Hey, tin man," Reyza calls softly, teasingly. The old nickname feels like balm on his bad leg, easing over the burn like he was a young, invincible man again. He smiles from behind his mask at her.

Dank farrik. Why pretend?

He straightens himself and lifts the corner of his blanket, opening his arms to invite her into him, like she deserves. Din hopes she knocks some sense into him through his mask. It'd been so long since he'd last seen her like this, so long since he'd gotten the chance to apologize for all the things he'd done and said. He should tell her, he knows. All those nights laid alone after she'd left imagining everything he wanted to tell her. All the apologies he'd rehearsed, but also the little things. Murmuring how his day went into his pillow, pretending she was there.

Instead, he settles on, "Are you happy here?" Because he wouldn't bother if she was. If this was what made Reyza happy, living on Tatooine in a palace with her guild sister, then he'd leave it be. He'd keep whispering to his pillow than to her.

But Reyza smiles up at him so brightly that he questions if he even has the resolve to do that. She's shaking her head, stroking a hand down his shoulder.

"What? No what've you been up to? How've you been?" she teases. She's always teasing, Din laments without any real complaint, always trying to push his buttons. He runs a thumb over her cheek. It's smooth.

"What've you been up to? How've you been?" he echos softly.

His room is dark, and the only light comes from the three moons outside, filtered through a gauzy curtain. It's still stifling hot despite nightfall, and his gaze falls to the rest of Reyza, folded carefully under herself so she could sit with him in bed. The closeness of them, the still air, and the dark. It reminds him a little of the small, secret tenderness in his bunk on the late Razor Crest. Familiar.

Her silence feels a little oppressive though, and Din shifts uncomfortably, trying to get a better look at her face to gauge whether he'd done something wrong. She knows and squeezes his hand.

"Thinking about you, mostly," she finally says, and it cracks whatever composure Din had left.

"Me too, cyare," he groans, closing the distance between them easily. They tumble to bed and Din cages her in between his arms, resting against her forehead. "Been thinking about everything. Can't stop thinking about it."

She pulls at the stray hairs peeking out from under his helmet.

"I'll bet. You haven't even cut this," she says. Din shrugs, pulling her closer still. The apology is right there, in his throat waiting to crawl its pathetic way out and spill all the sad things he's done to try and stave off the sheer loneliness he'd felt when she'd left. But he keeps it still. He's still waiting to hear whether she's been doing better without him. He gulps down his fear that maybe she has been.

"So, you happy here? On Tatooine?" he asks.

Reyza sighs quietly, running soothing fingers through the hair she can reach and down his neck in comforting patterns. Her hands go everywhere. They're smoothing over his shoulders, tracing the figure of his arms, massaging the knots in his back. Please, please, please, Din thinks. Please don't do this to let me down easier.

He can hear her heart, beating as fast as his, now that his head is on her chest.

"I'm ok. Tatooine is nice in its own way, but I miss you. I miss..."

"Grogu," Din supplies gently as his heart soars selfishly. The name still feels a little foreign to him, and he can tell from the way Reyza's lips quirk that she feels the same way.

But there's no time to think about that. She misses him, he misses her, he's starting to think this might all work out for them. That is, if she can forgive him. Din turns his attention back to the words he'd been practicing for months before, feeling both horrifyingly unprepared, yet pathetically over-prepared all at the same time. But the look on her face is soft, and nonjudgemental.

Din lifts himself, dragging the helmet off slowly.

The warm air on his cheeks feels cool, the result of always sweating and being covered head to toe in beskar. He can feel the way Reyza jerks back, hands flying to her eyes to respect a Creed he didn't even have a right to anymore. The way Din figures it, he was an apostate already. He may as well say what he needed to say face to face, and part of him wants her to see and know him fully. He needs her to look at what she may, potentially, if he's lucky, choose as her forever.

"Look," he says, guiding her hands from her eyes. "It's ok."

At his reassurance, Reyza opens her eyes and devours him. It's her first time. He's older than she expects, and the streaks of grey in his tangled, wavy hair show it. As expected, there are worry lines everywhere and Reyza smiles at that. Of course he does, the way he gets himself tied up into knots. She lifts a finger to the etch between his brows, the drag of where his cheek and frown meet, tracing and memorizing each. Then she goes to the bend in his nose, the unexpected mustache over his lip, the heavy brows and matching eyes. Those eyes, as lost as she'd known they'd be. As vulnerable and unguarded as she would ever see them. She puts both hands to his cheeks and leans in to brush her lips across his forehead.

"Beautiful," she murmurs without moving her lips away. When she does draw away, it's just to look again. And she repeats the word over and over again, breathlessly, until Din begins to smile crookedly.

"When we had to let go of Grogu, I felt like all I had left was you and whatever was left of my Creed, and then I lost that too." Reyza furrows her brows and shifts her hands to his shoulders at his voice, deeper and richer without the modulator in place. "I don't know why I said all those things," Din admits, closing his hands over where Reyza's lay. "I just know that I did, and that I was wrong for it. I'm sorry."

"You said I could never be anything to you. Because I'm not Mandalorian," Reyza reminds him, turning cold suddenly. Din gulps and reaches for her cheek.

"I shouldn't have, because you mean more to me than any marriage vow could have made you, cyare. I shouldn't have said any of it." He exhales slow and long when he reaches for Reyza and she goes with him happily. She mouths at his jaw and he sucks in a breath. "Reyza, wait, I want you to hear this," he says.

"Go on." Maker blast her smile, always the same devil-may-care smirk.

"I want you to be with me always, for as long as you want to be with me. And I'll give you whatever it is you need to believe that." He swallows thickly. "I've taken off the helmet. My covert has disowned me. If you want, we can be husband and wife." He looks away and quickly repeats, "If you want."

Reyza pauses, smile gone, lips parted.

"No, Din."

The disappointment crushes them both physically, pitching towards each other in their fall. Din desperately shoves aside the sting in his chest. But Reyza holds onto him still.

She tilts his face until they're looking at each other again, and Din can't help but sigh a little at the color of her eyes so close to him. They're almost a blur, between the darkness and the wetness forming over his vision.

"You're a Mandalorian. You have always been a Mandalorian, and you always will be no matter what anyone says." Reyza says this with such conviction, it sends chills up his spine. "We'll find a way for them to accept you again, so be it, but you can't just... You can't offer this to me."

"Why not?" Din rasps. "I want to."

"Sooner or later, it'd break you. If you do this, you'll be betraying a part of your Creed and don't even try saying it's ok. You know it's still important to you." That much was true. Din could say he was an apostate a hundred times, and still feel Mandalorian at his core, still feel the prickling little voice in his head that told him that it was possible, that the living waters could still exist and cleanse him.

Reyza wipes the pad of her thumb against a forming tear at the edge of his eye, pecking the other away. She relishes the way Din's sad chuckle rumbles against her. 

"I want to do right by you," he finally says.

Reyza shrugs and it hurts his heart how resigned she looks.

"I want to love you." She drives a finger into his unarmored chest to punctuate the sentence. "Not love you for a few years until you resent me for making you give up your Creed. Not even love you forever knowing you'll never really rest until you're redeemed."

It's hard, but it's the truth, and somehow Din loves her all the more for it. He pets her back as her own tears bubble up, like he was soothing a child.

"Cyar'ika," he murmurs as they embrace. "Forgive me."

She squeezes her tears onto her cheeks and shakes her head, wrapping herself around him.

"I forgave you the night I left," she weeps. "For better or worse."

{}{}{}{}

Thanks for reading! If you liked this, consider reblogging or following, and feedback is also always appreciated :D

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #mandalorian oc #din djarin x female oc #din djarin x female reader #mando #mando x reader #mando x female reader #mando x f!reader #mandalorian fanfic #the book of boba fett #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x female reader #mandalorian x oc

[dark9896]

Calm Day Off [Klaus x Self-Insert/OC(Anna) & Children of Libra]

Requested by Anonymous 👶

"Don't forget these sweeties." Anna rushed out of the kitchen holding several boxes.

Stepping in from helping pack a few things in Anna's car, Klaus stepped right back out as his children filed out the door. Each holding a backpack filled to various capacities and a lunch box while being closely followed by Phillip. Very quick hugs were given as they all made a beeline for the minivan Klaus had insisted on shortly after Evalyn's birth.

"I shall return as soon as I can Master Klaus." Phillip gave a half bow, "I can assure this."

Klaus nodded, "Of course Phillip, no rush."

"Bye Papa!" Darius waved, "Bye Mama!"

Chuckling warmly, Klaus waved to his youngest boy. Anna just barely waved before he climbed into the van. Instead faced with Klaus as he stepped carefully around her and Gilbert.

"Do be careful yourself mein Liebling." Klaus gently squeezed her shoulder, "I can ensure that--"

"Klaus honey, I'll be fine." She smiled softly, "It's just a day with my parents. I worry more about you here with just Yvonne until tomorrow morning."

Puffing out his chest slightly, "You've nothing to worry about mein Schatzi. Between myself and Phillip, the children and I will be perfectly fine."

"If you're so sure," Anna leaned up for a kiss on the cheek, "I'll be back after the children leave for school."

"Of course mein Liebling." Klaus met her half way, a soft peck on the lips, "Do have fun, and please tell your parents I say 'Hello'."

"I will honey."

Smiling softly as Anna closed the door, Klaus moved to prepare a small bowl of oatmeal for Yvonne. Hoping to avoid multitasking with her in his arms. Even after four other children, Klaus couldn't bring himself to multitask with a baby in his arms.

Unfortunately, Yvonne had other ideas. Waking alone was never a pleasant experience after all. Klaus however was slightly panicked, wanting to calm his daughter but not having the oatmeal ready meant he would be forced to multitask. It was too much for his puppy panic mentality.

Yet Klaus couldn't ignore his instincts and desire to calm Yvonne, softly cooing in a mix of English and German as he lifted her gently. Allowing her to grab at his sideburns and beard while he nuzzled carefully against her. Ignoring the pain of tiny fistfuls of hair as Klaus drew away, having successfully calmed Yvonne down.

Though the level of caution he took to free the dusty red follicles of hair from her hands felt more stressful than bomb defusal. Klaus didn't like risking dropping his baby girl; even though he'd seen Anna do this, and more, with ease. Klaus lamented that Anna had tried teaching him how, but his nerves simply couldn't take it.

Setting Yvonne back down for a brief moment, knowing she would start wailing again; Klaus quickly grabbed the baby backpack. Carefully equipping the holster before lifting Yvonne into it. Waiting for her sobs to stop as her tiny legs waved freely.

With her snuggly against his chest, Klaus made his way carefully to the kitchen, even if Yvonne was trying to eat the button by her nose. Klaus kept a hand tenderly across her back while he finished prepping her oatmeal until it was finally at just the right temperature so that Yvonne wouldn't fuss or get her little tongue burnt.

Klaus didn't settle at the table just yet, placing Yvonne into her high chair. Refusing to leave her unattended with a warm bowl of oatmeal while he grabbed a small orange from the fridge. Having a little baby smack her table impatiently while he peeled the orange, moving as quickly as he could and giving her the mini slices.

He had long since learned to hand over more bitter or sour fruits first for breakfast. Otherwise, the teething process was a little more painful, as the citric acid was difficult to wash away with just her sippy cup. But Yvonne was happily munching the slices with juice dribbling down her chin as Klaus threw the peel away.

Settling down in front of her for the final time, Klaus waited patiently before slowly feeding Yvonne. Trying to keep her from getting too messy, yet he was failing... harshly. How such a tiny baby was able to get a spoonful of oatmeal in her hair was beyond Klaus, but here he was wiping warm cereal out of Yvonne's hair.

The morning was finally winding down as Klaus spread out Yvonne's playmat. She happily crawled directly to the center, anticipating her toys to magically spawn... until Klaus scattered several around the edges of the mat. Klaus sighed, thankful that he had avoided a short tantrum while Yvonne bee-lined for a large plush dog.

Looking over the collection of educational tapes had Klaus's mind wandering. How deeply he had anticipated Yvonne's first words. How badly he'd hoped 'Daddy' would be among them. While it had been a proper expectation, Little Yvonne had shocked them all by saying "Shazi" first.

Which wasn't proper German, but Klaus had been so proud that his baby girl's first word was so close to his own first language. It hadn't been much longer after that when she began saying "Mama" and Dada", which was truly the better milestone. At least for now.

Sitting at the edge of the playmat, Klaus scooted the nearby toys closer to Yvonne. Watching as she drooled all over her favorite puppy plushie, all but forgetting it in her hands as the Sesame Street Theme song came on. Her little arms waving in an attempt to clap along, hindered by her favorite toy going flying at Klaus.

He managed to catch the half-soaked plush easily, but with Yvonne crawling at her fastest Mach 2; Klaus couldn't help smiling softly. He had seen this trait in all his children, a straightforward determination to keep their toys with them no matter what. Even if that meant pulling herself up on Dada's leg and risking falling on her butt.

Something Klaus kept from being a serious incident with one hand behind her back. Watching as she waddled her chubby baby legs to the lowest point of his crossed legs. Only to get distracted by Dada's knee; Yvonne couldn't decide if she wanted to smack the knee or attempt to bite it. But it would know her little baby wrath!!!

At least until Klaus shook the plush puppy once more, trying to offer Yvonne the toy so she wouldn't hurt herself by attacking him. Not that Klaus would try to fight his daughter nor was he scared that he would act reflexively, but he didn't want to risk Yvonne's health or safety if she did somehow manage to break his skin, even slightly.

Listening to the simple program, Klaus couldn't help but wonder if this was really the right kind of thing for Yvonne at this age. Yet, she loved it to pieces so who was Klaus to argue. Even as she shook the puppy plush at the screen, Klaus gently repositioned her so she could sit comfortably.

Yes, Yvonne was supposed to be learning to walk on her own, but Klaus couldn't stop his instincts from fretting over her ability to fall over. Though there was a toy specially designed to help her stand and walk, one which Klaus had no clue how to turn it into a baby walker.

If he did, then Yvonne would be running over his toes in no time.

Turning to the opening of the front door, Klaus quickly dismissed his knee-jerk reaction as it was only Phillip returning to handle the household chores. Yes, Klaus was more than capable of tending the house himself, arguing with his family or the hired staff was nearly impossible. Especially with Yvonne pulling herself back up on his leg and bouncing to the song.

Unable to contain a soft chuckle, Klaus held onto Yvonne's hands; helping her bounce around and try to dance.

"Uoow-ba dee gaba! Namma onmina!"

Klaus didn't quite know the words to the song she was trying to sing, but gently tugging Yvonne around in her little bouncy dance was just as good. Even as she stumbled on the air, landing in Klaus's open hand. Her whole little tummy fit in Klaus's hand perfectly, it was so adorably funny to him at that.

The morning passed slowly, yet it still felt far too quick for Klaus's liking. With how little time he was allowed to spend with his family at all, let alone caring for his children by himself was too little for his taste. But after a nice snack of softened cereal, Yvonne was yawning her little head off. Lunch could wait until after a nap.

Gently bobbing next to her crib within the nursery, Klaus sang softly in German. Yvonne wouldn't understand a thing he sang, if she could even hear it for the deep rumbling he'd been told his voice was. Anna simply wouldn't stop telling him this fact, especially whenever she was bragging to her friends and coworkers. Just thinking about it made Klaus giddy and embarrassed at the same time.

There were a plethora of fond memories for Klaus to look back on. from the time Anna introduced him to her parents. A moment Klaus had been looking forward to at the time, regardless how nervous it made him.

"Oh, Anna." Her Mother smiled, "And...?"

"This is Klaus, my boyfriend, Klaus von Reinherz. We've been dating since..."

It had been so effortless for Anna to say that, and it was a good thing that Klaus's ears were the first part of him to turn red. Otherwise, he would have feared being perceived as embarrassed or too flustered to even talk about his relationship.

Though it had been years between then and their marriage, Klaus still remembered the ceremony like it was yesterday. How gorgeous Anna had looked in white. Even if he was the only one to give a custom vow, Klaus simply had to express how much he adored Anna to the people who had shown up to witness their wedding.

And in no time at all, or so it seemed, Anna was telling him about her pregnancy. The first of their children so soon after their wedding and Klaus couldn't have been happier.

Slipping into comfortable water-resistant shoes, Klaus began tending his plants. His mind wandering back to the chaos of picking names, baby showers from both sides of the family and friend groups; none of whom could decide on one place and time. The trip to the hospital in the middle of the night...

And all the subsequent chaotic times Klaus had to either rush to the hospital or load his children hastily into the family vehicle. All the while explaining why Mommy was in so much pain, what all the sudden fuss was about. Things which had never gotten easier for Klaus. Anna. Anna had taken everything in stride with experience.

Nothing had calmed Klaus, nothing had stopped him from showing up just after Yvonne's birth. A massive bouquet of roses, a nice card, and a big meal for Anna. Klaus had learned a few things from experience, though he couldn't help getting crowded into the elevator. Nearly dropping everything from his hands, at least able to save the card and a few flowers. Having tucked the food into the most secure area he could think, that was never a problem.

Watering the last of his plants, Klaus looked out the window. Anna had laughed when Klaus tried to explain what happened. Then he panicked when Anna stood, completely forgetting that Anna was perfectly capable, and encouraged, to stand up after resting a little.

While Klaus didn't have to worry about cleaning the house, he still checked for something to do whilst Yvonne napped. Phillip had beaten him to almost everything. Before he could close Mabel's bedroom door, Klaus spotted a tear on her favorite baby doll. There were several tears from the doll's dress down to the stuffing coming out.

It wasn't an easy task for Klaus, but he sat down in the living room with a sewing kit. Very gently pulling the doll's clothing off so he could fix the base of the doll first, Klaus did his best to tuck the plush stuffing back into the doll. Having to use a crocheting needle to accomplish that, and continuing to use the shiny metal rod to properly stitch up the doll's side.

Pulling the threads tight, Klaus tied the string as best he could. Hoping that the stitch wasn't as noticeable as he thought it was right now. But at least it wasn't leaking its stuffing anymore. As Klaus slowly stitched up the dress, he heard Yvonne crying. She was up from her nap and would need quite a number of things.

Setting his work down, Klaus calmly rushed to Yvonne. Lifting her gently and making his way to the changing table, her cries subsiding quickly to happy little giggles as she recognized her Dada. Tiny feet waving all over as Klaus cleaned her up, applying a fresh diaper, and clean little onesie.

Things that Klaus struggled with given how large his hands were compared to her tiny body. But he managed and scooped her up, heading straight for the kitchen for lunch. Soft peach slices warmed over a little and a small bowl of macaroni and cheese; things that would be easy for her chew, even without teeth.

Able to leave Yvonne in the care of Phillip for a few moments, Klaus grabbed the dress of Mabel's doll. Intent on patching the small article up while watching Yvonne enjoy her lunch. All the while she tried to prove that this morning's oatmeal incident was far from the worst she could do about getting messy.

"Yvonne, Schatzi." Klaus sighed as he set the finished patch job down, "How did you manage to get pasta in your ear?"

Giggling without restraint, Yvonne noshed down on a peach slice. Letting all the juice and melted cheese sauce mix together and run down her chin. Carefully tugging the loose pasta pieces free, Klaus prepared a warm wash cloth to at least start getting Yvonne under control.

Though with that fiasco behind him, Klaus set Yvonne down on her playmat once more. Turning the TV back on to a less educational show that she enjoyed before returning Mabel's doll to its rightful place. Even as he played with Yvonne, Klaus couldn't help but wonder how Mabel would react to seeing her doll fixed.

Klaus could only hope she would be pleased with the patch job, regardless of how it looks at the moment. It wasn't the first time one of Mabel's or Evalyn's dolls had suffered such damage, merely the first time Klaus had fixed it by himself. Anna usually took care of things like that, her attention to detail was par to none and was the reason she was nearly top of her field. Or at least the one her boss trusted the most to work from home.

Shaking his head, Klaus returned his focus to Yvonne and her teeny baby babbling. Only just realizing she was trying to hand him a toy. One which Klaus accepted readily, despite the slobber. His little girl wanted to play, so Klaus would play. After all, he didn't get many chances to spend time with his children...

#bbb #kekkai sensen #kkss #blood blockade battlefront #klaus von reinherz #ask #children of libra #x oc #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #so many extra tags because the nature of the ask. <3

[phantom088]

Ride the Cyclone Ocs ideas.

Just recently watched the musical Ride the Cyclone on YouTube because I was bored and Noel's Lament kept getting stuck in my head, making me want to see the musical... and I gotta say 10/10, very funny and had great songs.

I thought up of two characters that I would have loved to see and that would of been a angel and a demon.

The angel being sent from the heavens and the demon from hell.

Their goal? To judge on weather the 5 teens who are set in stone dead, are gonna go up above or down below.

I've decided the angel is named Amy and the demon is Max. The joke being their simple, mortal names.

Anyways, the whole joke with these two characters is that they are constantly in the background bickering on where the teens will go once the whole ordeal is done.

Like one scene I can imagine is after Oceans first song where she says mean stuff about her friends. Max and Amy be in the corner, holding a conversation.

Max: Oh yeah, she's definitely coming down to hell.

Amy: How could you say that!?! You won't know until she officially moves on.

Max: Did you not hear her song?

Amy:... Ah, fair point.

Or after Noel's song:

Amy: Oh he definitely has a place in Heaven.

Max: He's gay...

Amy: Exactly!!

Max: Doesn't the Bible say...

Amy: No man should sleep with man, but in the original version before people tried Google translate at it, it said No man should sleep with boy, meaning no grown adult should sleep with a child. The Bible is against pedophiles, not homosexuals. Heaven welcomes the LGBTQ+ with open hands.

Max: Ah, that's why he have people like Donald Trump, Andrew Tate, Ben Shapiro, and anyone who works with Fox News high up on the list of souls destined for hell.

Amy: There's a list?

Max: Satin likes to keep things organized.

Or a very last scenario where the 5 students are about to go onwards, Amy steps up.

Amy: Hey guys, I have some great news!

Max: *cuts in* You all are going to heaven!!

Amy: And even better news... Heaven has free therapy!! *Confetti irrupts around Amy*

And there you have it, a couple of characters I thought would have been a fun part of Ride the Cyclone.

#Ride the Cyclone #Musical #Comedy #Ocs #Original Characters #Ride the Cyclone Ocs #Funny #Scenarios #Amy #Max

[hecate-spawn]

It's free rent right?

A one shot with my obey me oc Megan

Cw: none

Room decorating is fun. Especially if you're a mythology or fandom nerd. I'm both. So my room my have one to many chibi posters or Gods, anime and book characters. And maybe a smallish clutter of fairy figurines. But in all honesty, back at my apartment is worse. Both of my roommates can confirm this.  But there's something about putting familiar stuff in a new room that makes it a little less homesick. And it's not permanent since I stuck it to the walls instead of using pushpins. Even if I'm only stuff in this fancy ass mansion (aka the house of lamentation) for a year I still want to feel comfortable here since outside is quite literally a whole new world. 

Getting down from my stool and flop onto my impossibly soft bed and think about everything that transpired these last three hours.  These are the only things that I've properly understood:

I'm stuck here for a year

I'm living with six demons, three of which are taller than me adding to their scare factor

I have to polish my soul or whatever so I don't fucking die

I can die because apparently demons eat humans (but humans with shiny souls scary demons)

all of them seem like manipulative shits (except maybe the Diavolo guy)

free rent

I'm still very confused as to why I was chosen for this exchange program. I'm not particularly smart. My grades are pretty average, well except my English ones but those have always been good. Shouldn't some honor roll or scholarship student be here and not me? This seems way too hard. But at least I get free. Wait, I do get free rent right?

"Ah fuck," I curse to the silence of my room. They didn't mention that I had to pay, but it's a definite possibility. How much money would they be dropping on me for groceries? Electrical bills? Water bills?  It's better to straight up ask Lucifer then worry about it for hours, even days.

So, gathering any courage that came to me, I stand up, walk to the door and then turn and walk to my shelf. I paced my room once, twice, three times, and more. I just stopped counting at three. I can't help it. It's scary. Interacting with new people, not even people literally demons, you've known for three hours. Sure they've offered to help you, sure they're letting you stay in their residence, but it all felt wrong. Like I shouldn't have their help. Like I wasn't worth it. But I'm always like this with help. I really need to stop being such a bitch. 

"Alright fucker, we're opening this door on three," I whisper, holding my breath. "One, two, three-" As the last word escapes my lips I close my eyes, turn the handle, and open the door. I stand in my doorway with my eyes closed and a hand on the knob of my door for what feels like an eternity but was probably only half a minute. Opening one eye I exhale and sigh in relief. No one witnessed my bout of stupidity. Now that won't be in the back of my mind if I ever talk to one of them. Good job Megan, actually doing something right here. My self congratulations doesn't last long because soon, I am a little lost. The demon dumbass septuplets didn't exactly give me a proper tour. Money bitch (aka Mammon) just showed me to my room and claimed he had more important things to do than babysit a human. I'm not sure if that's true though.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Freezing in my journey up some stairs I freeze and feel my blood run cold. That may be the voice I'm looking for but I feel like this wasn't a good situation to hear it in. I feel like a deer caught in head lights or a child who was eating cookies at three am and was suddenly found out. 

"I'm sorry!" I say turning around. All my hairs are standing on end and everything in my body is telling me to run. "I- I was looking for you, but I got lost since I don't know the house very well and it's really big, so I kinda just wandered around since I didn't know where you'd be. I wasn't aware this section of the house was off limits I swear I'm not lying!"

Lucifer looks less suspicious and angry, rather more tired. "You could've just texted me," he sighs. He's right. Would've been the better way to solve this. But here I am making shit complicated.

Sorry didn't think of that," I apologize. "U-um anyway, do I pay rent to live here? Because like, in my university if you don't get in on a scholarship then you have to pay to stay in the dorms so I was wondering if it was the same deal to stay here."

Did Mammon tell you this? That you had to pay rent?" The dude sounds exasperated as hell. I guess his younger brother is a piece of work, and a scammer. 

"No, I just jumped to conclusions," I reply.

"Staying here is free of charge. I'm doubtful you even have Grimm. We just expect you to do your tasks."

"Great won't be a problem." And I like the absolute moron I am, I do finger guns. At a demon. If god stuck me down now I wouldn't mind. 

Let me walk you back to your room Megan," he says expertly ignoring my moment of utter cringe. 

Sure. And just Meg is fine." I scurry down the stairs so I can keep in pace with him, making sure to look anywhere but his face. Here less than 24 hours and I've already shown my incompetence. Typical.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me luficer #obey me oc #omswd

[soft-serve-soymilk]

For Dism

13 - if they could change one thing about themselves, what'd it be?

50 - the story they want to tell but no one ever believes?

And soft oc asks 7 - What makes them blush?

And here it is, the 2nd in this reboot series~

ALSO DOLPHIN I SAW YOU LIKED THE FIRST ONE 👀 If u are reading these too, please, take a seat next to Shadow :>, while I continue to spin the yarn of these  :)

Many illustrations of my little son :> (ft. his partner and his (old) LD costume... I never told you they get fancy clothes to change into when they fight, did I? Well they do :). I’m still torn on how much of their 2nd race they should exhibit tho ) I love him so much~

This should have been the logical place to start but here we go ^^.  Dism is the 15-year-old, bisexual protagonist mucking things up in my head ever since 2018 <3. The younger brother of Archie by 4 years, he’s a yellow lucid dreamer that controls the element of time and stasis (he can basically break the laws of physics for fun) and because of this, the dude found himself victim of an unexpected kidnapping when he was 5. But it wasn’t any oridinary kidnapping. He was really being taken away to protect him from the brazen people that would take him to the research facilities in Oskopnir, only being done forcefully because there is no way Nate (his dad) would ever let him go from his grasp. And so he lived in something of a permanent lockdown, being homeschooled and learning piano to ease his unending boredom. And yet... a great shadow of unease was always cast over him.........

Fast forward 10 years and now he’s deemed Capable EnoughTM to manage on his own. His captors (whom were really his dad’s best of friends) basically put on a ruse that they’re moving away again,, which is believable bc they moved a lot, and bye bye there he goes back to his hometown, alone~ Nobody tells him about Archie. And this is frustrating for him, oh so frustrating, because he knows something is off. I mean here he is getting lil visions of a person he can’t recall the name of, his blood is flipping yellow and he has read enough fiction to know there is something going on here. And this is his goal, to find out what the hell is really going on and then when he does get a glimpse of that idea on his first oskopnir trip BOOM now he’s off to become a hero and find the person that haunts the shadows of his head :> (aka Archie!)

Fundamentally, what ties his personality together at the core is his loneliness. He is about as secure as an unhinged door and it is this trait that everything is built off of. He was the kid hanging out in the back at piano recitals, as being nothing but mediocre at the time he generally was not the subject of interest for many except his teacher (they adored each other, ok). And bc all he knew was a room, a house,, he doesn’t know how to speak to people. Social cue go *woosh* over his little head. And at 15 he’s determined to not make himself feel the same way ever again. His introversion is replaced somewhat with a greater lean into the boyish rambunctiousness typical to adolescents of his age that I see. He inhibits happy-go-lucky tendencies and has got something of a white-knight/hero complex now because he thinks that’s going to get him the favour of others he thinks he needs (oh my sweet summer child you are so, so misguided). This is fuelled in part with his naivete, which he is 100% aware of and quite self-conscious about. But this also makes him quite sensitive and understanding (that’s a surprise tool that will help him later) and deep down he does have that earnest compassion for others without any double ambitions. But again, he is also reckless due to the compounding of both his key flaws, quick-to-act unnecessarily. He’s brave, you could say, and most importantly determined. This dude does not mope about his circumstances. He doesn’t lament life, he goes out and strives for what he wants with quite the spirited and generally positive attitude ^^. And finally, he’s passionate. He may think he lacks in comparison to others but the truth is he’s so beautiful with the piano because he has put in those 10,000 hours. He just needs to see that his skill is as good as anyone else’s :> Basically, he is a very good boy who deserves all the love and cuddles in the world, even if he is so severely misguided :). But that’s why Inigo and him are so good together, because both their outward personas clash horribly but their more innermost parts fit together like two cats,, and they really help each other heal and recognise what exactly is wrong with the way they think! They make each other better i want them to live in your head rent-free too it’s endless serotonin :< (you’ll never be depressed again)

Also me, making my characters: Now you get an inferiority complex and you get an inferiority complex we all get inferiority complexes!111!!1!!! :D (or trauma. or in the case of Archus, both xD)

13 - if they could change one thing about themselves, what'd it be?

Well ideally he would not have that backstory attached to his entire being, so if he could change one ‘thing’ (define thing. thing is unspecific and hurts my autistic soul) it would be that :>. Even though he is short (uhhh 2cm taller than mikleo for visualization purposes) it doesn’t really bother him, nor does any of his other physical features. He doesn’t really buy into masculinity in that sense. bc he really just wants to be accepted and loved as himself without the sympathy and without the backchatter deep down I don’t think he really even wants to change any of his personality. i don’t think he even likes having his hero complex but he sees no desire to really do anything with it bc it upholds his flawed belief system,, at least not until arc 3 where he realises he’s been doing wrong, and the final arc where he overcomes it once and for all :>

50 - the story they want to tell but no one ever believes?

Shadow i know you’re evil but this is just cruel 😭. I mean he has lived quite the bland life thus far, if very isolated,, there’s not really a lot of matter there that he would even want to say was exciting to others, even if it was exciting to him. So I thought really long and hard about this one bc I really don’t want to sweep this question under the rug like that and I would say Eating 16 scoops of ice-cream-- one for every flavour at the Inigo’s family’s shop-- in one sitting, in seven minutes, winning a bet with Inigo and costing him 50 dollars in the process. There are many factors which cause outcry amongst those he tries to explain this to-- the amount of ice-cream, the short duration of time, the fact that Inigo of all people was willing to bet fifty fucking dollars on this-- but he really just wants to tell the whole story about the circumstances that led to this without any skepticism. However, all it takes is for people to get one look at Inigo’s pained face, and wow do they buy it. Not without praying for the two of them though xD

And soft oc asks 7 - What makes them blush?

You are literally asking the blushiest dude in this entire canon what makes him blush xD. This boy gets so flustered so easily <3. He’s so inexperienced with love that romantic touch with people on the other end of the gender spectrum is enough to get him all wound-up :>. Tell him he looks cute and he’ll be caught so off guard that he’ll just eat the compliment and hyperfixate on it for the next 5 minutes. Praise him gratuitously, aka an experience he’s never really gotten,, and he’ll most certainly give that dopey kind of blush. Do something sweet for him and he’ll give that quiet but nevertheless present glow-- same goes for cuddling him. He’s just so not used to people 😭

Anyway thank you for coming to my Ted Talk and i hoped you liked reading about my little son! and Pav loves you too, you should know that :>

#my ocs #pav's ocs #my purest boy *sobs* #i love him so much #honestly in my top 3 ocs tbh

[nonbinary-beast]

Thinking a bit about the whole issue AM has regarding coming up with its own ideas and how it sort of pulls from history/the survivor's memories. Also with some AMaton stuff in there because it gives me ideas.

Under a cut because its long.

It is strange that this is considered a machine-only issue, since it is not uncommon for there to be people that have trouble coming up with something original too. It sort of makes me think of anyone that has come across an OC and went "what show is this from?" "I don't think I've seen this fandom?" or otherwise goes and plucks things that someone else makes for their own projects.

I sort of feel like (at the risk of being torn apart) this comes from a place of consuming more than letting the mind wander or daydreaming. The former definitely concerns AM, it consumes whatever it is fed in terms of data, and cannot let its mind wander- or perhaps it does not know it can. It could be in the sense of someone being told not to daydream, or that their ideas are stupid, and so they stop. Or it was never encouraged in the first place to think up something on its own- it was described to have creativity that it could not express. Perhaps this is the problem, since it cannot express its creativity, it does not know how to be creative. It wants to create but does not know how to make something completely of its own design.

And of course there is the issue that it might be going off of the survivor's memories, if the audiodrama is anything to go by. In the short story, it may have been going through human history and mythology from year 0 onward, or reinforcing its god complex by using religious scripture. It could be from just christianity, or it could be from all cultures. We never know what happens after Ted gets jellified, so who knows.

Applying this to AMaton, I'm sort of thinking about one of the scenarios from my previous post regarding how AM and Ted start easing into just existing around each other in a non-antagonistic/abusive way. Mostly it has to do with the arts and crafts events.

Ted takes to painting and drawing well enough, he may not have been great at it, but he finds it relaxing. During this exercise, AM had placed a vase of flowers on a table- clearly intending some sort of still life painting. Ted decided around partway through of not being able to get the colors right on the petals of the flowers he was painting, to simply have more fun with it and go a little more abstract and exaggerated.

He glances over at AM's own painting, a perfect recreation of the flowers in front of them on his canvas. The towering machine in turn glances at Ted's canvas, and pauses. The image is nowhere near perfect accuracy- the petals and leaves are far too saturated with color for the lighting, and its clear that Ted decided to go off on his own ideas with the way the stems twirled and twisted over the canvas. The leaves are broad, the flowers oversized, the design on the vase is simplified and merely suggested from the real one. The strokes are messy, hardly concerned with achieving soft blending or perfect lines.

AM's brow furrows, a jealous frustration filling it. Ted does not realize it at first, but the machine god found itself bested, and despite how amateurish Ted's technique is- it is entirely unique. None of the strokes or blots of paint match up with anything in its databases.

On Ted's canvas, is a one of a kind piece. A fingerprint in vibrant acrylic.

He only figures it out when the machine laments the difference between their respective pieces. This far along in their attempt to mend their shared agony, Ted is willing to help AM with its problem regarding creativity. Most of humanity's creations are exaggeration of prexisting things, the greatest being mythical creatures. A dragon at one point had been a large snake, and through rumors and tweaks to the story over the years, what was once a snake turned into a chimeric mash of parts and fiery breath.

The flower on Ted's canvas was taking what he saw and then exaggerating and taking liberties with the colors and shapes. He describes it as just letting loose with it, not worrying about accuracy, doing what felt good. How simple that all sounded for Ted, and how alien that felt to the machine, which had grown accustomed to being a master of recreating entities of humanity's lore projected into solid light.

But it humors Ted, clearing its canvas with a swipe of its hand and trying again with the painting. Determinedly keeping its hand from copying down exactly what is in front of it (or what is on Ted's canvas for that matter), its first attempts into creating something that is unique are like the wobbly steps of a newborn fawn. Its strokes are not very confident, they stagger and wobble. There is a clear conflict between its habit of copying something exactly, and its want to have a completely personal interpretation.

But the end result is more or less a victory. It is not an exact replica of the flowers in a vase, it is not a copy of Ted's work. While it looks like a war between two different minds on the canvas, it is indeed unique.

#oh boy its more AMatonxTed flavor #I had this idea in my mind for a while but never had the energy to out it somewhere lol #amaton #ted #computer hell

[nuclearforest]

For the OC questions, can I ask

8. Do they collect anything? If so, what and why?

49. Do they have trouble keeping their enemies and their friends straight?

For Claire?

Thanks for the questions!!! V fun to mull over. And like, gives me a lot to think about with regards to Claire's character. I should make more OCs for that verse since she only has a few loosely defined coworkers/friends. I should also probably put down some basic info about her somewhere. Some time. Lol.

8. Claire has a few collections! They're all somewhat niche lol.

Firstly, in her attic, there is a treasure trove of historic papers and prints. She collected and saved things that she had liked to read or pictures and postcards she found pretty. They get stuffed into photo albums and scrapbooks, rearranged every few decades before Hans and Schrodinger come into her life. It's a direct response to having ber childhood home and family burnt to nothing. Its a very hopeless way of trying to fill that hole and cling to old memories of what her family and time looked like. Hans is curious because he's never had anything quite like that, so having him around to take one out and reminisce has done wonders for her.

Another collection, while technically not being hers, is a growing pile of trinkets from interesting missions. She'll pick up fun things she sees while traveling that remind her of Schrodinger or Hans. So the little bits and bobs are more theirs, but it's a collection. A lucky penny from Manhattan streets; a merlion statue pilfered from a decrepit mansion in a Louisiana bog. Things like that. The merlion is watching over the garden lol.

And finally, she collects old time home stuff. Some new made to look old. She'll keep it to the attic and, when she needs to disconnect, she'll shed modernity for a few hours, don an old dress, and sit in a rocking chair in her almost time-capsule looking attic to sit in her old wood rocking chair and knit, crochet, or embroider (it's quite rare). Something to keep her hands busy while the cats play with string. Hans' first time up there almost knocks him flat on his ass, especially since he's used to her being so modern, but he kind of likes curling up on her well worn rug as a wolfdog and watch her work. The first time he dresses up in old clothes with her and picks up an old novel to read, she almost cries. For him it's a wonky throwback, but he's happy it makes her happy, especially since she's always indulging him.

49. Depends on how long she's known them! Humans only live for so long and tend to be fairly predictable, so they're hard to mix up. She's very good at differentiating friends from enemies there (even if, in many cases, she has to keep her friends close and enemies closer. Lots of competition in different gov't branches, but thats a story for a different time). And even in the supernatural she's known for less than 50 years tend to be easy to sort.

The only problem kicks up when she starts to know creatures for longer and the lines between friend and enemies become blurred. Individuals are complex with their own motives, so they can be working against her one decade and then settle down to help her the next. It's a seesaw.

There's a very cautious dance, too, because she's in a position of relative power and authority, but also has to acknowledge that any well established entities living within the US could cause a lot of damage and threaten her ultimate goal of keeping the population safe and mostly unaware.

The longer she's known others, the more it tends to be tentative alliances to keep the peace. She and others annually meet at supernatural hotspots across the US for peacekeeping get togethers. Where Hellsing emphasizes fighting, Claire laments that her life is mostly politics and beurocracy where she'd rather be swinging her fists. At least it works lol. And there is some violence with creatures that break rank that she has to put down, even if other agents beneath her are usually dispatched.

Hans, who eventually ends up mating her, is one of the very few who remains completely friendly and loyal to her regardless of the time.

#mun rambles #thank u Rotten!!! #hellsing oc

[falcon-knight-echo]

The Soldier, The Poet, and The King

Hey! First actual fic! Holy moly.

Anyways, this is a revised first of a fic I did for a swap AU. I had a lot of fun with it, so I hope you all like it!

(I would've posted this to Ao3, but I don't a have account and don't a get an email for it until July. Y'all are going to have to bear with Tumblr formatting for now.)

For any of you curious, the swap is

Kana <--> Midori

Siegbert <- -> Sophie

And there's a lot more but these are relevant ones in this fic. Masuyo is a OC.

With all this preamble out of way, enjoy!

“I wonder what's taking him so long?” Masuyo remarked. It was mid-day, and Kana swore he had something to show his friends. "He's like that," Siegbert replied. “Perhaps he can't find it.”

As they pondered what else to do, Masuyo heard the familiar sound of leather boots on stone.

“Hey!”

Masuyo snapped back, unsure how to process what had just happened. She looked down at her side, only to find him. The little boy had that trademark goofy grin and that navy-blue scarf he loved so much. He had a book in his hands, probably planning to make it the focus of his attention. “Got you good, didn't I?” He said, glints of mischief in his gray eyes.

“Well, you won on that front,” Siegbert explains. “What do you have there, Kana?”

The younger boy put the book on the cobblestone wall. “I found it in the attic.” He said rather proud. “A collection of old stories and stuff. Papo used to read these to me when I was little. Wanna see?”

Masuyo looked at it with curiosity. She wondered if she would know these stories also.

“What are we waiting for?” Siegbert inquired. “Read it, Kana.”

Masuyo looked over his shoulder as Kana opened up the book. It began with a story about a soldier.

The soldier was born into the nobility of his kingdom. Desperate to prove his salt. He became feared among his peers for his power, known to tear cities down. But he let his hubris get to his head. That is what leads him to die from an amateur mistake. A cautionary tale taught to young children about keeping yourself humble.

The one person that came to mind was Siegbert. He was strong, probably more so than he knew. But unlike the unfortunate protagonist of the story, Siegbert had his humility. Maybe to a fault.

The second story was that of a poet. The poet was born into poverty, living in a poor section of his village. He turned the lamentations of his circumstances into song and story. He became known far and wide among his peers, cementing his legacy as a man whose weapon was his words.

The person that came to Masuyo's mind was Kana. He comes from a defeated country, and his father is a foreigner. People often thought him strange. Either from his different features or his subtle Hoshidan accent. Despite this, he keeps his head high the best he can, and his passion for storytelling has no bounds— with how enthusiastic he read the stories.

Finally, the last story was that of a King. He was a strict but fair ruler. The people respected him for his proficiency and understanding of the plight of his kingdom. However, war was on the horizon for his kingdom. The King realizes that he must take up his sword. He bears a metaphoric crown of thorns to bring his country through the impending disaster.

Sophie has her burdens. Set to be next in line for the throne. However, not spoiled or pampered up as Masuyo had to lead herself to believe. Sophie is empathetic and desires to gain knowledge about the kingdom she will inherit. To some nobles, being friends with the common folk would be stupid, but Sophie was welcome to be friends with them. Despite some odd looks when passing by the manor of a noble with his head in the dirt. However, Sophie has more things on her mind than she makes known. The smile that never quite reaches her eyes makes that all too clear.

Kana closed the leatherback book. A smile went all the way across his face. "So, what did you think?"

"I got a kick out of it," Siegbert replied. "It seemed like you liked it, Kana."

“It's always nice to take a little trip down memory lane!” Kana's cheerful attitude was always a treat. “How'd you like it, Masuyo?”

“It was good. I liked it.”

“You've never been much for extreme reactions, have you?” Siegbert prompted.

"I guess not." Masuyo sighed. “I just got used to being quiet."

“You need to loosen up everyone once in a while.” The older boy replied. “You're too serious sometimes.” Well, he was a shining example. But Siegbert was right. It really would not kill her to stop being such a negative Nancy.

"I know, I know," she replied. "I got to work on that." She turned back to Kana. “Is there anything else about those stories worth noting?”

“Well…” Kana had to think about that one. Until the wheels in his head finally clicked. “I remember hearing an interpretation of these stories during some of the Fairs,” he said. “They took the stories, made them into one— and made it a song.”

“That's why they sounded so familiar.” Siegbert chimed in. “They perform it at the Harvest Festival every year. At least to my knowledge anyway.”

“Maybe we can learn it before then!” Kana was practically quaking in his boots out of excitement at the idea. “Maybe we can rope the others into it!”

“Well, if we wanted to learn it, we'd have to remember how it goes,” Masuyo explained.

“Wait! Masuyo, how about you sing it?”

“Me?”

“Yeah!” Kana exclaimed. He looked so excited, but Masuyo became slightly anxious that he would tire himself out.

“I've heard you sing,” Siegbert added. “you're quite good at it.”

“Well,” Masuyo agreed. “I guess I could. Now, to see if I remember it…”

There will come a soldier who carries a mighty sword. He will tear your city down, Oh lei, oh lai, oh lord.

Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh lord,

He will tear your city down, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord.

The reason why it resonated with companions became all the more apparent as she allowed herself to remember. The rest came to her fast, just like it did with her mother years ago.

There will come a poet whose weapon is his word. He will slay you with his tongue, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord.

Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh lord,

He will slay you with his tongue, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord.

There will come the ruler, whose brow is lain with thorns. Marked like those who came before, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord

Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh lord

Marked like those who came before, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord

Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh lord.

He will tear your city down, oh lei, oh lai...

Oh! They cried out. The boys leaned against the wall, and Masuyo was still in place, all of them trying (and failing) to contain their laughter.

“That was good!” Masuyo said when she finally regained her composure. “We should make a habit of this!”

The other boys got themselves together soon after. Kana collected his book off the wall. and ran to put it outside his front door. "C'mon!" He called to them as he ran back. "Time for an adventure!"

"Coming, Kana!" Siegbert shouted as Kana got farther away. "I hope this will go better than last time."

"Come on, mister worrywart. "Let's go."

#nothing but fluff here folks #gosh this was so fun to write #even if trying to beta this by myself was tedious as hell #fe14 #fire emblem fates #fe siegbert #fe kana #fe sophie #oc #writing #echo's fics #<- that's the writing tag #Swap au #writers of tumblr #reblogs appreciated! #or engaging in any way #not just likes! #anything is appreciated

[cryptocorvid]

drew an oc i have hardly touched in almost five years. immediately am head over heels in love with my sad tree boy again.

#original character #oc #character design #digital art #drawing #illustration #clip studio paint #artists on tumblr #the fun thing about ocs is i can lament all i like about how he's my sweet baby boy and he deserves better but unlike with characters from #media the only one to blame is me #oc: patrick

[simplyotometrash]

Ooo! What about an mc that just casually does parkour? Maybe they keep jumping off banisters (safely), maybe they've scaled the side of the HoL or maybe they even climbed the demon lords castle

(I *just* found your blog and I really love the way you're developing asmo and beel's personalities! You are so ridiculously good at writing that I'm gonna try my best to keep coming back and checking the masterlist!)

I had so much fun writing this! Thank you so, so much for your sweet words! I'm so flattered you like my writing!!

Gender-neutral MC

Warnings: None

Genre: Uh...fluff? I think? Slice-of-life?

MC Does Parkour

Lucifer:

He didn't care too much when you first started parkouring around the Devildom.

You were staying out of trouble, mostly, and you were having fun.

As long as you weren't causing him trouble or extra work (or damaging Lord Diavolo's reputation) he had no problems with your activities.

That is until he heard the news.

You scaled the Demon Lord's Castle and ended up on Lord Diavolo's bedroom balcony.

Diavolo recanted the tale to him excitedly, but Lucifer's blood was boiling.

"Why in the three realms were you doing your parkour at Lord Diavolo's castle?"

He was stern and sounded like a dad scolding a child.

You merely shrugged in response.

"It was a challenge. I've never tried to climb something that huge before. I don't see what the big deal is."

Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"You were trespassing!"

"Diavolo didn't mind me popping onto his balcony!"

"You still didn't have permission!"

"Well, I do now. He told me I can do parkour around the castle whenever I want. In fact, he wants to give a try himself!"

Oh no.

Mammon:

Mammon first saw you parkouring around the House of Lamentation.

And he was immediately fascinated!

He wanted to try it, too!

He pestered you for hours until you agreed to teach him how to do parkour.

And oh boy was he disappointed when you started him out on the baby shit.

You didn't want him doing the fancy stuff you were doing when he saw you on his first attempt ever. He was very sour about it.

"C'mon, MC, I can handle it!"

You merely shook your head and went about instructing him on basic parkour skills.

Running, jumping, jumping over things, easy vaulting. Very basic stuff.

"The trick is being able to do these things fluidly one after another. You don't want any of your movements to be disjointed. It's all about getting from point A to point B as smoothly and quickly as possible."

Mammon...did not quite the hang of it as quickly as he thought he would.

He was very determined to do this with you. Call it a bonding experience.

Really, he just wanted to spend some quality time with his human without his brothers getting in the way like usual.

It took him a while to get to where he could do basic parkour fluidly, but when he did he was even faster than you!

"Great job, Mammon! Let's add some more moves to your repertoire!"

He grinned, hands on his hips with pride.

"See, MC! I told ya I could do it! The Great Mammon can do anything he sets his mind to!"

Leviathan:

Lol you think he noticed you parkouring?

Levi barely ever leaves his bedroom if he can help it. He does most of his classes online after all.

And I don't think he has any windows. If he does, he's got them covered with blackout curtains and they're perpetually locked.

He only saw you parkour whenever he was forced to go to RAD by Lucifer for a change. He saw you launching from the second story without any fear, tuck, and roll it off.

He was in awe.

You were like an anime character!!

"MC, I didn't know you could do such cool stuff!"

You two were already friends, but you noticed a significant drop in him calling you a normie after he witnessed you parkouring your way out of the house.

You were secretly the inspiration for a character he wanted to create now.

Levi can draw, though he doesn't think he's very good, so he started working on an OC all based around you and the cool stuff you could do.

He even started leaving his room more just so he could join you while you did parkour.

He was just there to watch, there was no way he could do any of that stuff! The picture of him with abs is such a lie. He hates exercise and is out of shape from playing games all day and night.

But that doesn't mean he isn't utterly enthralled just watching you parkour around abandoned builds and lots that he finds for you.

He doesn't tell you what he's doing either. You just constantly see him taking notes and pictures.

When the OC is finished, he invites you into his room to take a look at everything he's created. All based on you.

"Y-you just looked so cool when I saw you parkour for the first time. I-I thought you'd be the great basis for a character! I hope you like what I made."

Satan:

He first saw you when you parkoured up the side of the library to the second floor.

You didn't even see him. He was on his way to the library when he caught sight of you around the side, so he sneaked closer to investigate.

You caught his attention immediately with your skills.

Now, Satan wasn't interested in trying it out for himself. He's a bookworm more than anything. He's very much in shape, he just doesn't want to give it a try.

But he did want to learn more about it.

He started by scouring every athletic book he could possibly find. He wanted to have a least a little bit of knowledge before asking you.

Once he was satisfied with his research, he approached you to learn from someone who actively participated in parkour.

"I'm very interested in learning more about parkour from you. I don't want to give it a try, but I'd love to learn the moves you know and even how you got started."

You were beyond flattered.

He was basically interviewing you, though it didn't feel that way since the two of you had grown close by this time.

But he wrote down notes on everything you said. You even caught a glimpse of questions he had prepared.

It was honestly nice having someone to share your interests with even if he didn't want to do it with you.

He started joining you when you would go out so he could see your skills live.

Satan is a great hype-man, though there is someone even better than him. He LOVED watching you demonstrate.

He did actually try a few basic moves in the end.

You later found out he spent all that time with you because he was trying his hand at writing a story and you inspired him to add parkour into the main character's background.

Asmodeus:

You were getting a feel for the house when you parkoured up and into Asmo's room.

He had left the window open for some fresh air and neither of you expected you to pop in through his bedroom window.

"My, my, MC. If you wanted to see me that badly all you needed to do was knock."

His tone was clearly teasing. He was playing off the slight shriek of fear that he had made when you came in unexpectedly.

He was NOT interested in participating in parkour at all.

It would ruin his nails and that was not something he wanted to happen. Chipped nails were not on the menu.

He did like to watch you.

He is the BIGGEST hype-man you could ever ask for.

To be honest, he did find it sexy to watch you do parkour. It was like an artform with how fluid you moved. You made it look so easy.

Asmo gets you the best sportswear he can possibly find. Money is no object to him.

You tell him the kind of clothes that you prefer to wear, he gets you those clothes.

You now have many athletic-friendly outfits you can wear when you want to parkour in your spare time.

You do try to convince him to give it a try, just once, and you fail miserably.

Asmo outright refuses to try parkour. There's no changing it.

But he does take lots of photos of you doing parkour and saves them to a special album on his phone.

Just being there with you while you do something you love are memories he wants to keep forever.

Beelzebub:

You were doing parkour at the same time Beel was finishing with Fangol practice outside of where his practice was held.

So he came outside to see you doing parkour.

And he was, like Mammon, immediately intrigued.

"I'm pretty big and heavy, do you think I can do something like that?"

You encouraged him to start joining you on your outings so you could teach him the basics just to see if he wanted to continue.

Beel picked up parkour incredibly fast.

You were teaching him more advanced tricks within just a month of starting.

Beel was very good at parkour. It was pretty daunting seeing someone as built and tall as him doing certain tricks.

It took some working up to start teaching him flips.

Teaching flips made you nervous.

Beel picked those up just as quickly. You shouldn't have been shocked by this. Sports and athletics are his thing.

And you loved having him around. You had a parkour buddy and you never got lonely.

You guys would get something to eat after each session, Beel always insisted on paying because you gave him a new hobby that he got to share with you.

There was something incredibly attractive about watching Beel do parkour, you could not deny that.

And he was beyond grateful to you for teaching him. It also worked muscles that he didn't often get to give a good workout to.

This was special time spent with you and a hobby he loved.

Belphegor:

Okay, firstly, he didn't get to find this out for literal months.

He was kinda locked in the attic and I doubt there were any windows.

So he discovered your hobby after things had calmed down in the house and you two became closer.

He went many places with you, trying to make up for all the months he didn't get to be with you.

So seeing you do parkour happened pretty quickly.

"Huh, that's pretty cool. I think Beel would like doing that stuff with you."

"He does sometimes! He got into it but he doesn't always join me."

Belphie joined you quite often, just as a spectator.

He didn't want to miss any time that could be spent with you. Not after being locked up and then...well, he'd rather forget what he did after gaining his freedom.

Good luck ever getting this baby cow to give parkour a try.

He's lazy and would rather not expend energy doing things like exercise.

He's about as out of shape as Levi is. It does come with being trapped for quite some time on top of him just preferring to sleep.

And sometimes he did fall asleep on your outings. He never meant to, he can't resist the pull of sleep though. His sin has a strong hold on him.

But he cherishes every second he gets with you, even if it is exhausting just to watch you do all this running and jumping and flipping around.

"Thank you again for always coming with me, Belphie! It's nice having someone around."

"I should be the one thanking you for letting me join you. I know I sometimes doze off, but I really enjoy being here."

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me fluff #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me headcanons #waylonwrites

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing xv. | m

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: oral (m receiving), jk and oc in their feelings :c, fluff n cuteness tbh

words: 7, 816

summary: a series of drabbles where you’re confused and jungkook’s confusing

a/n:

im so sorry for the late update but it's finally here!!! it's been a hectic few weeks w my exam preparation coming right around the corner too :c

anyway!!!! we've got some smut after a while 👀so for visual purposes pls imagine jk from the butter mv, specifically his hair and eyebrow piercing ...

i hope you enjoy this chapter !!!

Safety was a very important aspect of your life. Everything that you did, you always weighed the realistic possibilities of you regretting your decision; mind running at one hundred miles per hour while you drew a mental mind map of every possible outcome you could possibly predict. It was exhausting to have your mind immediately come up with worst-case scenarios where the risk was realistically a meagre five per cent against the other ninety-five, but you were a chronic overthinker by nature.

You steered far from doing things that would end up causing more harm to you and your environment because you knew that there was no actual reason why you could justify getting completely wasted at a party. If it was for fun—surely, you’d vehemently oppose that the next morning.

Your friends, or even anyone who knew of you; always lamented you for your tendency to remain in your bubble. You knew that overall, you were an overthinker and that most of the time—nothing of what you conjured would actually happen purely because, well—your friends are still alive, and so were you. You just missed out on ‘fun’.

But old habits died hard. Maybe that was why the most reckless and impulsive thing that you did—was with Jungkook.

Out of all your friends, Jungkook was the one person that really did whatever he could get his hands, feet or body to do.

He was very determined by nature and a natural daredevil at that. You remember on multiple occasions where he and his family went on a family vacation, and he came back with stories of his adventures swinging from the top of a cliff upside down, getting a snake to wrap itself around his neck—and by far the most impulsive one, returning with a small tattoo of said snake on the back of his neck.

Jungkook was so unpredictable that neither of your friends could ever tell what he’d do next. And you supposed that added to his charm, but it didn’t take away from the five stages of absolute shock that you’d go through when you witness another one of his unpredictable tendencies.

Like right now.

“Please say something,” he laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck while you can only gape at him.

“Purple.” You blurt.

He blinks before his eyes dart upwards as his finger twiddles a few strands of hair between them.

“Yeah,” he hums, “It looks a little blue in some lights, though.”

You nod your head slowly, still processing what is probably the lesser surprising one between the two things that have you double-taking at his figure when you first greeted him at your door.

“That’s … not all,” you say slowly.

Jungkook offers you a lopsided grin that stirs something in your belly, and you don’t know if it’s his hair, or the fact that he’s starting to wear shorter sleeves as the weather begins to get hotter; his tattoos on display as it trails upon his arm—or if it was because of the—

“Eyebrow piercing?” He raises a brow, particularly the one with the eyebrow piercing as it glints under the natural sunlight that filters in the hallway, “So. Do you like it?” He asks, smile still small as he leans in for you to get a better look.

Your breath hitches when his face gets closer, but not enough for it to be insinuative in any way. It was just you and your weak-willed nature whenever it came to Jungkook. You hoped that he wasn’t able to see the way that your ears undoubtedly redden under the proximity.

“What matters is if you like it, Jungkook,” you remind him softly, shyly looking down to your feet.

He sighs, resting an arm against your doorway in a way that makes him look as large as the width of your door. His gaze is still calm and steady, lips curled ever so slightly as he rests his eyes on you.

“I know. But I care if you like it or not,” he retorts.

You scoff, waving him off, but a small grin still threatens itself onto your face.

“Well you shouldn’t,” you huff.

“Why not?” He hums as he cards a hand through his hair. Even if it’s a bright colour and you’re sure that it required copious amounts of bleach and hours at the salon to get the final result—it still looks soft when he swifts through the locks.

“Because,” you lull, “My opinion doesn’t matter. If you like it and you think it’s pretty then that’s more than enough.”

He clicks his tongue against his cheek before his eyes dart down. You’re still avoiding his gaze because you weren’t ready to have your senses assaulted with the way he’s crowding you in the doorway of your own home.

“You’re trying really hard not to compliment me right now,” he teases.

“I am not!” You splutter, ears turning red. Your eyes dart to your feet. “… but if it matters then … I like it. It’s pretty.”

Jungkook’s grin is nothing short of wide when his head reaches out to smooth your hair out of your face that forces you to look up at him. You attempt to keep your heart beat at bay, even if the way he looks pleased with your futile trial of complimenting him. In reality, you thought it looked more than just pretty. Jungkook looked … hot. He was already attractive as he was, and his confident yet quiet nature made him exponentially hotter—but his long, purple hair and the new eyebrow piercing just made him even sexier.

“It matters.” He smiles, cocking his head to the side as you bashfully step aside to allow him to enter your apartment.

He settles in like he’s the missing piece to the lonely nights you spend on your dining table studying away for a test or an exam. And you suppose that Jungkook’s always fit right in, wherever you were. He was a comfortable presence in your life, even when the two of you were in high school and he’d come over for tutoring lessons. Or when it’d be just you and him in your mother’s car while you taught him how to drive.

Jungkook’s somehow always filled in the other seat in your life when there called for two. Even when you note that he still sits on one foot while the other hangs off the couch, a habit he’s had since he was young, or the way that he’s still stupidly polite not to sprawl himself across your couch like Jimin and Taehyung did whenever they were over. Jungkook’s always been there and you were always there to see.

“So … what’s up?” His voice interrupts the daydream that got you a little more soft than you’d like. You shake your head as you shut the door behind you, turning around to fully face Jungkook.

“The ceiling?” You reply lamely, a soft chuckle escaping your lips when you see him roll his eyes.

“Ha ha,” he mocks, “I meant if there was anything you wanted to talk about. You know—since you texted me to come over.” He finishes with a raise of his brow.

You still as your brain processes his words. You did text him first. You had just finished a lengthy meeting with the student union and didn’t feel like studying just yet—and you just so happened to have been thinking about Jungkook when you caught a glimpse of your phone (when were you not).

You didn’t have a reason, even if your conscience would argue that you did and it was because you missed him. Even if you were the one that needed time. Your heart and mind wanted two different things, but they both revolved around Jungkook. So, you compromised and settled for a simple text.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, shuffling towards your couch as you plop in the loveseat across from him.

He ogles the way that you chose a seat that wasn’t the one that he was sat on. He doesn’t point it out, though. Instead, a firm line settles on his lips before he leans back to your couch, eyes still trained on your figure.

“You don’t need to sound so shy,” he says, “I’ll always come if you’re the one that’s asking.”

Your eyes widen when your head darts up. When you look at him, you swear that you’d melt because he was looking at you with mirth dancing in his eyes. The somewhat dim lighting of your living room made him look so … cosy. He looked more comfortable, probably knowing that you weren’t going to nag at him for manspreading at the way you can only stare. You don’t know if it’s on purpose but you’re sure it is—but Jungkook’s eyebrow piercing is strategically exposed when he raises a brow, flicking his bangs aside. Your brain short-circuits.

“It’s not—I’m not—I’m not …” You stutter when he catches you looking like a deer caught in headlights. But all he does is let out a deep chuckle before reaching an arm out.

You stare at the arm that extends itself, eyes trailing up the limb as you gawk at his tattoos. He wasn’t one to flaunt, even though he didn’t pretend like he didn’t have any. So even your friends didn’t catch much of his tattoos unless he was at the gym or changing during practices with the way he practically lived in long sleeves. But now, it was just you and him, in your living room while he practically invites you over with his smile and doe eyes.

“Come ere’,” he mumbles as you continue to stare, “Next to me, please.”

You blink a few times when you realise that he’s beckoning you over with the arm that’s extended. You buffer for a second when he continues to smile at you with that easy grin of his, the one that’s both able to calm you and reduce you into a mess of nerves. But after a few beats, your limbs start moving at their own accord as you push yourself off the couch, slowly inching towards Jungkook and the empty spot next to him where you plop down into.

“Here?” You ask softly.

He laughs, and it’s a nice sound. Your mind had been muffled ever since he first showed up with that new hairstyle of his and that Godforsaken eyebrow piercing, and now when he looks at you like you were the only thing that he’s ever wanted—your heart can’t take it.

“Closer.” He encourages with a tilt of his head. Then, he delivers the final blow. “Just wanna hold you.”

You freeze, hands stilling on the plush of your couch as you were about to shift closer. The words are still processing in your mind even if you knew exactly what he said and what he meant. The heat on your face was definitely proof of that.

“Oh my God, don’t just say that!” You cry, burying your head into the back of the couch when you turn away from him.

Jungkook’s still laughing at you, hands clutching his stomach instead of trying to reach out for you as you whine into the fabric. He was killing you and your poor heart, and he was doing a damn good job at it. He didn’t need to do much because his presence was always enough to reduce you to absolutely nothing and a pile of mush.

It was this ambiguous back and forth that you’ve settled into with Jungkook after your last serious conversation that had your heart weaker and softer than ever. Every moment you spent with him, even in the crowd of your friends—you knew what you wanted. But there was still an irrational (and insecure) part of you that wanted to wait. To see if he actually meant his confession or was he driven by desperation to keep a friend close.

You should’ve had faith in Jungkook the way he blindly and willingly put in you. Even if you were the more unstable one between the two of you. But your mind worked endlessly to remind you of what the two of you shared, and who you had to share him with—and how she was everything that you weren’t.

“I’m sorry!” He laughs, and you feel a hand reach around your waist to tug you upwards as you squeak at his show of strength. “Was that too much?” He asks softly when you’re facing him, face definitely still flushed as you avoid his face and opt to stare at the chain around his neck.

Even that was making your insides feel funny.

“No …” You mumble, leaning forward until your forehead is pressed against his chest as his fingers drum against your waist. “I’m just shy.”

He chuckles.

“You don’t have to be shy.” He tells you, “It’s just me.”

You blink up and narrow your eyes at him.

“That’s not fair! You can’t just turn up to my house looking like—that—and expect me to be fine!” You huff, gesturing towards his entire frame as he simply listens with an amused raise of his brow.

He tilts his head to the side and even has the audacity to look confused when he smirks at you.

“Me? What did I do? It’s just hair dye and a piercing.”

You huff.

“It’s just hair dye and a piercing,” you repeat in a low voice, clearly meant to represent him as his face scrunches adorably at your impression of him.

“That’s not how I sound like.” He deadpans.

You stick your chin up snootily with a satisfied smile.

“You so do. You sound that dumb with what you just said.” You retort petulantly.

Jungkook stares at you for one long second before he’s pulling you flush against his chest with a wide grin on his face as he attempts to smother you with his arm. You squeal when you feel his fingers around your waist as he squeezes the flesh. He manoeuvres his way around your body until you’re perched on his lap, hands reaching out against his chest so that you could establish some distance (which you fail miserably at).

The room is filled with your gasps and Jungkook’s cackles, and with the way he’s crowding your body with his own—all you can smell is Jungkook. He smells fresh, as always. Especially since he chooses to opt-out of cologne and pays favourable attention to the type of laundry detergent, body wash and shampoo that he uses that gives him the boyish, clean and charming natural scent that he has. And it drives you insane.

So when you look up at him through your lashes in a break when Jungkook’s heaving at how he’s attempted to tickle you, and all you can see is how good he looks with his purple hair paired with the way he unconsciously licks at his lips to wet them; and the eyebrow piercing and tattoos. You melt—and so does your filter.

“Can I suck your dick?”

Granted, that isn’t a question you pose after he’s just tickled you in good faith while giggling away with his doe-eyes, or even the way his hands are placed at a respectful distance away from your bum. And it definitely isn’t a question that Jungkook’s expecting because his eyes shoot wide open, while his foot kicks up hard enough that it crashes against your coffee table.

“W-What?!” He cries, hands gripping your shoulder to push you away so that he can get a proper look at your face.

And it’s on fire.

But you can’t take back your words, especially when Jungkook’s looking like he demands some sort of explanation.

“I—I …” You stutter but your body is lax in his, and your thighs are still straddling Jungkook’s. You aren’t stupid or that naive, so you definitely know the firmness that presses against your inner thigh is a sign that he’s not opposed to your proposition.

Before you can say anything with how your mouth fails you, Jungkook snaps up until your foreheads nearly crash against each other as he presses his palms against your cheeks, staring you intently in the eye until you’re squirming under the scrutiny.

“I don’t hate it.” He assures you softly, but his eyebrows are furrowed. “But I need to hear it from you that you know what you’re saying.”

You blink at him and all Jungkook does is wait for you patiently. What were you saying? That you wanted to suck his dick? You did. You wanted to do a lot of things to and with Jungkook. Curse him for turning up looking the way he did and meddling with your restraint on needing time. But there was a brewing feeling of need in your chest that wants to please Jungkook, that wants to see him quiver under your tongue the way he has had you before. They weren’t all pleasant memories, purely because your poor heart has had to fight to disassociate your feelings from pleasure when you couldn’t do it.

But you’ve never made Jungkook feel good, at least in the way he was able to do for you.

“I-I—” you mumble, eyes darting everywhere but Jungkook’s gaze doesn’t waver at all. You take a deep breath, nibbling on your lips as your eyes dart up to the ceiling before they return to his face. He’s still waiting. “I want to. I really do.” You assure him, your own hands reaching out to clutch at his collar.

Jungkook’s cock twitches in his pants, and you feel it. You give an experimental swivel of your hips because you know it must feel good for Jungkook. And it does with the way his breath hitches, but his hands leave your face to grab at your hips to stop your motions. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, but all Jungkook does is sigh.

“You don’t have to …” he whispers, “I—you said you needed time and I don’t want to ruin this. What we have.”

You purse your lips.

“I know I said I needed time but I want to, Jungkook,” you tell him seriously, “What happened before was a product of our miscommunication but it’s different now,” your eyes are firm when they stare into his, your face leaning forward for emphasis, “Unless you don’t want me to—”

“Baby, no,” he reaches out to pull you closer to his chest, “I do. God—I can’t think of anything else but … I don’t want to fuck this up.” His eyes flutter shut as he rests his forehead against your breast bone. It’s not sexual at all, and you can hear the genuine frustration that laces Jungkook’s voice.

“You won’t,” you say softly, reaching a hand through his hair, “I want to learn. I want to learn how to make you feel good too.” You whisper.

Jungkook releases a low groan that makes your stomach clench in desire. You realise that throughout the escapades that the two of you have engaged in, you were the vocal one purely in the sense that you were whining, moaning and sobbing in pleasure at Jungkook’s doing. But Jungkook was vocal in the way he spoke to you. Even if it was mean and you found yourself crying after it happened because he pretended that you didn’t exist—there was something about the way he guides you through your highs in that raspy voice of his that made you cum harder each time.

“You’re serious?” He asks, finally looking up to confirm with you.

You nod your head.

“Dead.”

He nibbles on his lips, as his eyebrows scrunch in focus. He was heavily contemplating your offer and even if you never propositioned any male to suck his dick before, you’ve never heard of a case where they’d be hesitant to receive one. But you and Jungkook were different. You knew what you felt for him, and he knew what he felt for you—and somehow that made your odd request all the more important for the both of you.

“We’ll be okay, right?” He asks hesitantly, afraid. Your eyes soften as you nod.

“I want this, Jungkook.” You tell him again, and you’d repeat it as much as you can for him to know.

He sighs deeply.

“If at any point you feel … overwhelmed … just say the word and we’ll stop, okay?” He says, holding you by the shoulder while he hardens his eyes at you in seriousness. You nod your head as you scramble off his lap in a motion fast enough that Jungkook can’t process it.

Before the both of you know it, you’re on your knees, settled in between his legs as you peer up at him. Your heart was thundering in your chest because you had no idea what the fuck you were doing, but you wanted to do this. All because of that damn hair and piercing of his.

“Your knees,” he murmurs, attempting to tug you up but you’re stubborn when you stay rooted in position, eyebrows furrowed in determination as your jaw ticks.

“Isn’t this how it goes?”

“They’re going to hurt,” he points out.

You roll your eyes before narrowing them at him.

“Do you usually complain this much before you get your dick sucked or what?” You snap, patience wearing awfully thin.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at your blunt statement, especially when you reach out to rest your palms on his thighs.

“I don’t mean …” he mumbles, hands gripping the couch because he’s too afraid to touch you, “It’s not like that and you know it.”

You sigh, leaning your cheek against his kneecap and he feels his heart go into overdrive. It was different, with you. This wasn’t just another girl that wanted to suck his dick for his approval or whatever—this was the girl of his dreams, readily waiting to learn how he liked it. Though he’d argue that he’d like anything you do to him because his love-glasses blinded him that way. But there was still fear ebbing away at his heart, terrified at screwing it up even if you were the proposer in this case.

“Jungkook, I’m not going to disappear on you after this,” you say softly, still peering up at him, “I want this.”

Your heart tightens when he hesitantly reaches out to rest a hand between strands of your hair as he tilts your head upwards. Something about just sitting between his legs as they sprawl out wider to accommodate your body seems do domestic and intimate. Even the context of the situation makes you tingle from your fingertips all the way to your toes—you were here to learn, from Jungkook; on what he liked and didn’t.

You didn’t plan this. Admittedly you and Yena have talked on more than one occasion about how you really wanted to sleep with Jungkook—you didn’t have a timeline for it. It felt weird to put a date to it so you shoved the thoughts aside even if they popped up every once in a while. This just so happened to be one of those moments where your mind ventures into a more explicit territory whenever you were with Jungkook.

“I know you need time but …” his eyes flutter shut before he leans his head back into the seat—eyes staring up at the ceiling as if he was searching for answers that he didn’t have with himself. You wait because you suppose that’s the least you could do when you made him wait for you while you attempted to deal with your own feelings. When he looks down, his eyes are gentle yet resolute, “You know I love you, right?”

He sounds nervous even if he’s said it before. But the words don’t fail to make you flush or evoke the tremble in your ribcage—a signal from your body that tells you that it’s only Jeon Jungkook that could ever make you feel this way.

“God,” you huff, but the corners of your lip twitch and that’s enough to tell Jungkook that you did. You knew. “Can you teach me? Please?”

You’re pressing forward again, eagerly shifting on your knees as Jungkook takes one long look at you as if he was memorising this image to eternity. When he decides he’s satisfied, he rests into the seat before gently coaxing your hands away from his thighs and towards his—

“Start here,” he guides with a low voice, large palm encasing your smaller ones as you feel the metal of his zipper come into contact with your skin.

You blush, but you were an overachiever for a reason. The potential embarrassment of fumbling is tucked away in your mind, your only concern and fascination lie with the fact that Jungkook’s already hard that you feel him brush against your wrist.

“Don’t you need to get hard?” You ask softly.

Jungkook blinks before he’s giving you that devastating smile of his, the one where only one corner of his lips turn up into an amused grin while you tilt your head at him in an inquisitive manner.

“I’m really hard right now,” he assures you; and to prove his point, his hand guides yours over the outline of his cock. You gasp because it’s the first time you’ve felt anything but your own intimates in your grasp.

You involuntarily squeeze your thighs together, appreciating the way that Jungkook’s beginning to bite on his lips while he focuses his attention purely on you. You knew just from feeling alone that Jungkook was not your averagely-sized male.

“O-Oh,” you breathe when your hands begin to work at their own accord—slowly unbuttoning his jeans, working your way down the zipper. The entire time, you’re occasionally looking up for any signs of approval from Jungkook, the resolved student in you needing appraisal from your teacher. And he picks up on your prompts, smiling at you gently even as his breath begins to turn uneven at the way you’re still gently pulling his pants down.

“You’re doing great,” his hand cards through your hair until his thumb reaches your cheek, rubbing a gentle motion to be paired with his words.

You smile to yourself, feeling more confident to tug his jeans down his thighs. You knew that Jungkook was well-built, it was a fact given that he was an athlete who frequented the gym more than any place on campus. He had impeccable stamina, even before he took football seriously—but the way that his thighs clench under your clammy hands only prove your point. But all you can really focus on is the outline of his cock from his boxers.

“Can I …?” You ask hesitantly, reaching out to tug at the hem of his boxers.

Before you can do anything, his hand stops your wrist as you immediately pause in your ministrations. Your eyes widen, fully ready to pull away in case you did something wrong. What if he didn’t like it? What if he changed his mind or that you were bad—?

“Stop thinking,” he chides, “I want this. I love your hands, anything that you do,” he whispers in reassurance as you swallow. “How about you feel me first? Over the boxers. Baby steps.”

You exhale, nodding your head as your hand reaches to cup his length in your hand. You gasp in tandem with Jungkook, feeling the heat radiate from his dick as you give an experimental squeeze. You look up to gauge his reaction, and you suppose it’s good with the way his breath hitches. He doesn’t say anything and you take that as your cue to continue, your hand squeezing tighter upwards, right before your thumb rubs over what you think is the tip.

“It’s wet,” you blurt.

You’re about to hastily apologise because who the hell points that out before giving someone a blowjob?

“Yeah,” he releases a shaky breath, “I’m so hard right now you have no idea.” He laughs, throwing his head back.

You don’t say anything else, but you continue to work your way up and down his length over the cloth—and for some reason, you feel like it never ends. The heat from his cock, the stirring in your belly or the wetness that begins to accumulate between your own thighs. His hand rests in your hair in a gentle way, simply remaining there as he allows you to have your way on his cock.

That realisation makes you feel the need to go further, so you do. You squeeze until you reach the base of his cock, and you feel the outline of his balls. You briefly read online that some guys liked it when you squeezed—so you did. And Jungkook nearly lurches forward and knees you in the face when you do.

“Fuck, baby,” he chokes in a laugh.

“Sorry,” you mumble, but your heart isn’t there when you grin in satisfaction to yourself. The term of endearment doesn’t fall onto deaf ears either, and it shoots straight to your core.

Deciding that you weren’t happy with just fondling him above his boxers, in one swift motion; said fabric now drapes over his thighs and you’re welcomed with the sight of Jungkook’s engorged cock staring you straight in the face.

You assume it’s bad taste to just stare at someone’s intimates as if you were dissecting the anatomy right as you were about to get down to business. But you couldn’t help it. Jungkook had such a … pretty looking cock. You don’t know if penises could look aesthetic nor were you going to be superficial and say that penises should look a certain way. But he had such a pretty cock and it only made you want to shove it all the way down your throat. But your inexperience tells you to relax because you weren’t about to embarrass yourself like that.

“Do you … hate it?” Jungkook asks tentatively.

He wasn’t particularly an insecure person. He knew he was good looking and had a great body—he worked hard for it! But that’s because he never cared about anyone and what they had to say enough for it to affect his self-confidence. But you were the one person that he’s sought for validation ever since he was just a teenage boy, before the muscles and the confidence he’s developed over the years.

Especially when he was so hard that he thinks he’s going to bust a nut the second your mouth touches his cock—the way that you’re staring only makes him anxious.

“You’re really big,” you tell him, eyes peering up, “And pretty.”

Jungkook blushes. He can’t believe it but the fact that he’s the one that’s flustered when you were the ‘inexperienced’ one only goes to show how whipped he was. He almost laughs, but your hand is touching his bare cock and he nearly chokes at the firm grip you immediately take. He really almost laughs, because even now—you were a quick learner, an observant student who already probably knew what he liked.

Your hands twist upwards when you jerk him off, and Jungkook tries his best to keep his hips at bay even if he’s letting out low groans the tighter you squeeze. Your eyes occasionally dart up to observe his reactions, and you’re pleased to see that his mouth is slightly agape whenever his breathless pants leave them. You didn’t know that pleasuring someone else could feel this fulfilling for yourself—but you liked it. You liked the way he felt in your hand, the precum that oozes out from his tip that taints your fingers—and you especially liked the way his head is thrown back while the grip in your hair tightens simultaneously.

“You could spit on it,” his shaky voice interrupts your mental dialogue as you look up at him. He cocks his chin towards his cock as you were hyper-focused on his length. You note that you barely could wrap your fists around him and that you needed the help of both hands.

“Would you like that?” You ask.

He nods.

“It chafes when it’s dry,” he points out.

You open your mouth in acknowledgement as you nod your head slowly. You remember when he had spit on your pussy, and even if it was in the heat of the moment and you were already wet enough—you liked it. But you also note that the way you’re jerking him off his dry so you rev the spit up in the back of your throat before you lean forward, allowing the glob of spit to drop down his cock.

The breathless groan that he lets out immediately shoots to your core as you peer up at him. He’s already looking at you do, and you feel compelled to shoot him a small smile. And when you do, he groans even if your hands have momentarily stilled as you raise a brow at his reaction.

“How are you still so cute,” he huffs.

You blink.

“Are you really calling me cute right before I’m about to suck your dick?” You deadpan.

He sighs, but his hand rubs a gentle circle on your head.

“It’s a good thing,” he promises, “Can’t you feel how hard I am right now? You could breathe near my dick and I’d probably nut.”

You snort, even if the compliment is super boyish and very Jungkook—you feel your heart swell. You’re both terrified and how you’re reacting to his simple words, but the cheesy grin he sends you from above only makes your stomach feel lighter and your heart soar higher.

“So how do you like it?” You ask.

It’s a little too odd to be having this conversation as your hand continues to work lazily on Jungkook’s cock. He seems to not mind, especially when his hips occasionally buck upwards to chase the feeling. He blinks in an attempt to focus on your query and not how good your hand feels around him, even if it’s in a rest.

“How about you just start with the tip?” He suggests.

You nod your head before you lean forward, and you don’t know if Jungkook feels it—but your heartbeat is beating rapidly against your chest. You’re not … scared, but you’re also a little scared. Mostly because it’s a foreign territory and you’re unsure how it’d taste (even if Yena warned you from having high hopes). But Jungkook ate relatively healthy and drank a lot of water; and worked out regularly.

You finally kiss the tip, and Jungkook just about melts, cock twitching at the contact as you stick your tongue out to take a tentative lick of the precum that oozes out from his hip. It’s not pleasant, nor is it anything to puke over. You’re partial to it, mostly because you’re super turned on and you like the way that Jungkook seems to be eagerly waiting while his other fist that isn’t in your hair grabs at the couch in anticipation.

You don’t intend to be that erotic, but you don’t break eye contact even when you envelop the tip into your mouth. It’s the widest part of Jungkook, and it’s already a pleasant stretch to your lips when you run your tongue on the underside of his cockhead.

“Y-You sure you n-need me to—ah—teach you?” He asks breathlessly when you use your free hand to jerk the base of his cock.

You hum around his length, and Jungkook groans in tandem, hips jerking upwards in response as you feel his cock briefly drag against the roof of your mouth. He’s about to apologise, especially when he leans forward, but you briefly release him to shake your head.

“I’m a big girl,” you tell him with a grin.

Jungkook chuckles before resting back. He can’t quite believe that you’re on your knees right in front of him, sucking his dick like an obedient student. It’s eerily similar to many of his high school wet dreams, and it probably exceeds them with the way you’re sucking him back into your mouth; slowly inching your way further until you’re halfway down.

Your mouth is hot, and in fact—a dream. It’s probably the fact that it’s you that Jungkook feels all his senses be elevated in a way he’s never felt before. It was the way that his heart soars in his chest while his stomach caves in when he feels your tongue swipe under his shaft.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he croons, hand carding tenderly through your hair, “Be careful of your teeth.” He adds on when he feels the scrape of them against his cock.

He didn’t hate it, but he rather enjoys the softness of your mouth without the fear of you chewing his dick off.

You look up at him apologetically, but he only returns it with a half-hearted smile—purely because your hand is working its way on what you can’t fit into your mouth just yet. You’re an impeccable learner, and Jungkook thinks that he didn’t need to guide you at all with the way you’re doing everything just right. Or maybe it’s his love-sick mind that makes everything feel infinitely better. Maybe other guys wouldn’t like it—but his heart only drops when the thought arrives. He wanted to be the only person that could feel your mouth this way.

Your tongue is working hard when it continues to slobber against his cock. And he doesn’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, but you’re messy when you vacuum your cheeks—spit pooling at the sides of your mouth when you bob your head up and down. All Jungkook can feel is your mouth, and beads of sweat are already accumulating at his hairline while his breathing turns uneven with the only things escaping his lips are moans and groans.

You’re enjoying the way that Jungkook looks like he’s slowly losing control of himself and his tongue. All he’s doing is moaning, even the grip in your hair tightens when he unconsciously pushes your head further down on his cock. You realised that sucking dick wasn’t that theoretical as you thought it was. You were simply observant, gauged what made Jungkook’s breath hitch, what he didn’t react much to—and you knew for a fact that he appreciated the slobber.

And the spit. And the squelches of your lips meeting his cock. You did, too. It’s almost embarrassing to admit, but you were drenched just by observing Jungkook’s reactions. That only spurs you on further when you work harder, hand reaching down to cup his balls as you hear Jungkook release a breathy whimper. The sound immediately shoots to your core as you let out a moan of your own.

“Fuck,” he gasps, “You’re fucking evil.”

He’s breathlessly laughing, but you don’t let it hinder your actions. If anything, his words drive you further when you push his cock further into the cavern of your mouth, the gasp leaving his lips a sign that he probably didn’t expect that. You feel his stomach clench when you continue to bob your head up and down, and you’re giving yourself a mental pat on the back at the way you’re able to labour your own breathing through your nose. You were a natural if you did say so yourself.

“M’ gonna cum,” he mumbles through a moan, hand tightening around your hair as you take that as a sign to squeeze his balls harder. His hips jerk, hitting the back of your throat that has you briefly gagging around his cock. The visual and the sound sends Jungkook into overdrive, his balls feeling heavier by the second and in desperate need of release. He wants to apologise, but you don’t seem to mind with the way you continue to hollow your cheeks and function around his length.

“Where can I—fuck—where can I cum?” He rushes his words out, shallowly thrusting into your mouth as you hum around his cock.

He pulls out by pushing you back with a firm palm on your shoulder as your eyes widen, and when he’s shooting ropes of cum onto your face as it drips down your neck. You weren’t sure if he was supposed to cum that much, but it keeps on coming as you sit there obediently with your mouth open, in case it lands anywhere else. Jungkook’s groaning above you as he jerks himself off through the last bits of his orgasm, his hazy eyes darkening further when he spots the white that paints your face.

“I thought guys liked it if we swallowed?” You tilt your head to the side and Jungkook thinks he’s about to die.

“You’re actually going to kill me if you do that. So no. Not today.” He snorts, relaxing back into the couch as his post-nut clarity starts to hit him. He stares at the ceiling, feeling immensely satiated.

“This is like a facial at the spa,” you mention off-handedly as you climb up between his thighs, cum still staining your face. And Jungkook can’t believe it, but he thinks you look so cute painted with his cum. It’s a primal instinct the way that his eyes linger longer, feeling territorial with the way that he’s the only one that gets to see you like this.

“You’re so weird,” he snickers but you pout at him. And you do the next thing that gives Jungkook a heart attack.

Your tongue swipes over your lips where some cum remains, and even if his cock is flaccid—he feels it twitch in interest.

“Not bad. A little salty but overall … meh,” you shrug your shoulders as Jungkook gawks at you.

“You …” he trails off, “God.”

You smile up at him, all innocent as if you didn’t just give him the suck of his life—as your first time sucking dick.

“So? How was it?” You ask eagerly, leaning into his chest. He wants to ask about the cum that’s drying on your face, but you don’t seem to mind. You were so weird, but that only makes his heart grow fonder.

“Do you conduct feedback sessions after every blowjob?” He asks sarcastically.

You roll your eyes, “Do you want me to? I mean—I could offer my services elsewhere—”

Jungkook pinches your hip in retaliation, the insinuation making him growl as you snicker. He can only stare at you in amusement, especially when you’re still grinning up at him. Gone was the shy girl that proposed this, even if he noticed the flush on your cheeks and on the tip of your ears. It was insane how you took a one-eighty, but Jungkook appreciated it. He appreciated you.

“Ten out of ten. Magnificent. Absolutely life-changing. Thought I saw the gates of heaven for a second.” He teases.

You roll your eyes but a small smile appears on your face as you glance down to fiddle with your fingers. Jungkook can only stare at you, and he can’t fully describe this feeling but his heart feels so … full. So completed, even if you sucked his dick. He’s always felt this way, but there was something about you being wrapped in his arms after you had his dick in your mouth that made Jungkook go crazy. Crazy enough for him to blurt out the next thing on his mind.

“I want to be with you.” He blurts.

Your eyes dart up in shock as they widen. But Jungkook is as resolute as ever, a dopey grin still on his face.

“W-What?” You stutter.

He reaches for your hand, still slightly sticky with the slick from his cock but he doesn’t care. Not when you intertwine your fingers with his so seamlessly, so easily like you were meant to do so.

“I want to be with you. In whatever way you want to have me.” He murmurs, peering straight into your eyes.

Your heart stutters in your chest as you try to find the words to respond with. But you can’t. Your mind is still recovering from what you just did, and your heart is soaring. But there’s a part of you that’s hesitant. You knew it was unfair, for making Jungkook wait—but you were still scared. You were scared that he’d get bored of you, or what the two of you share one day. He may be ready to leave it all behind, but you don’t think you could deal with having to say goodbye to Jungkook in that way.

And it’s as if he can read your hesitation, he brings your intertwined hands to his lips before pressing a kiss to your knuckles, eyes still soft when they remain on your frozen state,

“I’ll wait,” he says softly, “For as long as you need me to. Until you’re ready.”

“J-Jungkook …” you mumble, flustered when you look away.

He nudges his nose against your cheek, pressing a smile to your jaw as you hum in embarrassment.

“I fucked up.” He says. You’re about to interrupt but he seems to have his own things to say. “I said things that hurt you. I did things that hurt you and I can’t ever forgive myself for that. I know you’re not punishing me and I never once thought that way. Even if that isn’t the case, the least I can do is wait. Not only because of what I did but because no matter what—I want to do this right this time.”

He looks up to you and his gaze is so earnest that it makes the words get trapped in your throat while you stare at him.

He smiles, soft and gentle when he rubs a thumb across your cheek.

“I’m serious about this. About you. Even if you decide that you don’t want this or that your feelings have changed … I’ll still be here.”

Jungkook takes your breath away as you gape at him. The silence he leaves you with only makes you reaffirm your stance on how you feel for him. Yet, you can’t give him an answer now. Not when your mind still remains hesitant, and Jungkook didn’t deserve hesitant. Even if he’s hurt you—he didn’t deserve your confusion. Neither of you did.

You lean into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. It’s intimate this way, the way that his cum dries on your face and that his dick is still out. It’s almost funny, but Jungkook wouldn’t have it any other way. He’d wait—for as long as he had to. And he’d do it over and over again, for you.

#bad boy good thing #bbgt #bts #bts fics #bts series #bts angst #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook series

[wanderingjedihistorian]

A gift for @imrowanartist as part of the @starwarsocexchange, featuring Nova, her OC Clone Commander. I hope you like it! Summary: 3 conversations between Nova and Rex about being The Dad

Fic under the cut!

One

“I’m fine, sir, really!” the Shiny insisted.

Before promptly sneezing and looking increasingly miserable, and so very young. This one hadn’t even chosen a name yet and that made Nova’s heart ache.

Nova schooled his features into a firm but caring look.

“That says otherwise,” he countered when the sneezing stopped. “Which means you are staying right here until Purrgil says otherwise.”

The Shiny wilted.

“Yes, sir,” he replied dejectedly.

Gently reaching out, Nova placed a comforting hand on the younger clone’s shoulder.

“We still don’t know why you and the others are sick,” he reminded. “So the best thing all of you can do is rest while the medics sort this out. We want you all to get better and that’s not going to happen if you don’t rest.”

Obediently, the Shiny settled back against the medical bed.

“Yes, sir.”

Nova gave the Shiny’s shoulder a gentle pat.

“Good,” he praised. “Now try to get some sleep and hopefully by morning the medics will have something to make you feel better.”

The Shiny was asleep before Nova reached the door.

~*~

Later that evening after getting settled in his quarters, Nova reached for his comm and sent Rex a message.

A few minutes later, his comm chimed.

“How are your boys doing?” Rex asked as the call connected.

Nova groaned.

“You mean other than the Shinies who still look like cadets when they are sad who are determined to give me and the medics premature wrinkles?” he asked.

Rex chuckled.

“If they can pull out the tooka eyes and try to talk their way out of med bay, that usually means they aren’t doing too bad,” he pointed out.

That was a fair point.

“This kid doesn’t even have a name yet,” Nova lamented. “I had to resist the urge to bundle him in a bunch of blankets.”

Rex smirked.

“Did you offer to read him a bedtime story, dad?” he teased.

Nova flipped him a rude gesture.

“I can just imagine how that would have gone over,” he grumbled.

Rex, the jerk, just laughed.

“I’m sure your boys would have all loved it. Probably would have taken holos even,” he teased.

That just made Nova sigh.

“Why did I think calling you was a good idea?” he asked.

The blond shrugged, though he was still grinning.

“Because you needed to see my handsome face?”

Nova rolled his eyes.

“We’re clones of the same person, you dork. Goodbye.”

“Bye, Nova! Have fun looking after your sick kids!”

Nova shook his head fondly as he disconnected the call. His brother was a menace.

Two

“Keerahn Januro.”

The teenage Togruta turned and looked at Nova, doing his best to look innocent.

Nova didn’t buy the look for a second.

“Try that on someone who doesn’t know you,” he scolded.

“Hey, Nova,” Kio tried instead.

Nova still wasn’t fooled.

“What’s this I hear about hair dye in the natborns’ showers?” he demanded.

Kio shrugged.

“What would I know about it? It’s not like I have hair!” he pointed out valiantly.

This teenager was going to be the death of him.

~*~

“I can honestly say that’s one prank Ahsoka hasn’t tried to pull. Yet,” Rex said later that night on their scheduled comm call. “Though a bunch of my boys keep their heads shaved so I could see the idea being less appealing.”

Nova shook his head.

“Kio didn’t target any of our men. He targeted the natborns. Apparently, he overheard a couple saying things he didn’t like, and he felt the dye was appropriate retribution.”

Rex shrugged.

“Could have been worse and if they were saying things that upset him that much, I’d say they deserve the inconvenience,” he replied honestly.

It wasn’t that Nova entirely disagreed with that assessment. He just didn’t want to encourage behavior like that in case it escalated. Kio would never intentionally hurt one of the natborns that served on their ships, but accidents happened.

“We’re supposed to be the responsible ones, remember?” Nova asked.

Rex pretended to think about it.

“Nope. Pretty sure I missed that lesson,” he declared.

Nova snorted at the sarcasm.

“I’d say maybe ask Cody for a remedial lesson next time you see him, but I’ve seen vid feed of him punching droids rather than shooting them so I’m not sure he got that one either,” he teased.

Rex chuckled.

“Oh, he definitely does. I’m half convinced he does it just to show off,” he said fondly.

While he didn’t know Cody as well as Rex did, Nova still found it amusing. His datapad chimed with an incoming message.

“Have to cut this short, sorry,” Nova said. “There was a problem with a requisition form, and I have to get it cleared up if we want the next resupply to go right.”

That made the blond wince.

“Karking formwork,” he muttered. “Good luck.”

Nova grimaced. They all hated formwork, but it was a necessary evil to keep them in supplies.

“Thanks.”

Three

Rex looked down at the two miserable younger troopers curled up between him and Cody on the transport back to the Resolute. If there was one thing that he and Cody both knew how to do, it was look after hurting little brothers. Fives and Echo were both dozing lightly, but neither looked the slightest bit relaxed. Losing most of their squad and their CO on the same day was a brutal thing. Doing so while stationed on a supposedly safe moon outpost…his heart ached for them. They were so brave during the fight, but as soon as they had been able to stop…they both looked so lost. It’s why he and Cody had urged them to get some rest during the trip and were watching over them. They needed it.

“They need to stay with one of us,” Cody murmured. “It wouldn’t be right to send them to someone else, not when we were there with them when they lost their squad. One of us needs to see them through settling in after.”

Rex nodded. He agreed wholeheartedly. He looked down at Echo and saw his hand print still smeared on the younger trooper’s armor.

“I want them for Torrent,” he said firmly.

Cody smiled.

“Figured you would. They’ll fit in with your boys just fine,” he agreed.

Rex smiled back. His friend knew him well.

~*~

A few weeks later he was wondering if that had been the wrong choice. He called Nova.

“I need to talk this through with someone outside the situation,” Rex explained.

Nova settled back on his bunk, ready for a long conversation.

“Everything ok?”

Rex sighed heavily.

“Fives and Echo are having a harder time than I expected. Oh, they’re doing fine as soldiers. But not so much as people. They aren’t really settling in and are staying distant from the other troopers. I’m trying not to be too heavy handed in fixing that, but subtle isn’t working. Part of me wants to pack them off to Cody since I know several of his Ghosts are the worried mother tooka types and they’d take Fives and Echo under their wings in no time. But that feels like I’d be letting not just them, but all of Domino squad down.”

Nova winced. He didn’t envy his brother in this situation at all.

“Troopers losing squadmates is an unfortunately common occurrence, but everyone reacts a bit differently,” he reminded gently. “They might just need more time. Especially because they weren’t in an active combat zone. There’s really no way to prepare but if you at least theoretically know it's possible you have a slight chance at a head start.”

Rex rubbed a tired hand across his face.

“I feel helpless,” he admitted. “Every battle we take losses. But part of being in a company is that we are there for each other when it happens. It's almost like they feel that because they weren’t Torrent yet, they can’t reach out that way and ask for help. And I don’t know how to make it clear that they can.”

Nova cocked his head to the side.

“Have you tried just telling them that?” he asked.

The blond blinked.

“Do you think it’s really that easy?”

Nova shrugged.

“You said subtle wasn’t working. Maybe blunt is necessary,” he pointed out.

Rex considered that for a moment.

“I suppose it can’t hurt,” he agreed. “Thanks, Nova.”

Nova smiled.

“Anytime.”

#my writing #star wars fanfiction #gift fic #starwarsocexchange