#I wasn't sure if you wanted it to be a start to a thread or something else)))

[hb-writes]

A Quick Question

Summary: Maya visits the Pitt to for an answer to a quick question.

Characters: Maya Bennett (OC - Robby's daughter), Jack Abbot, Parker Ellis

Prompt: A Quick Question

The Pitt Masterlist

Maya sometimes felt a little like a celebrity when walking into the Pitt, a distinction that was shared mostly by frequent flyers of the medical variety, but still, she supposed it was nice to come to some place where almost everyone seemed to know her name. A place where nearly everyone smiled when they saw her.

Even on night shift, the security guards let her right on through without question. 

“Robby left,” Parker offered as Maya sidled up beside her at the nurses’ station.

“I know.” Maya’s gaze shifted to the triage board Parker was studying and she slid two trays of coffee onto the counter—one hot, one iced.

Things seemed slow, which explained why her dad had actually left on time tonight, and why things seemed eerily quiet, as if the whole place was moving at half speed. Maya didn’t dare voice those observations aloud in the ER, and she half-wished she hadn’t thought it either, but there was no stopping her thoughts. 

“Like he just left.” Parker glanced at Maya before grabbing one of the iced coffees and taking a sip. “Couldn’t have been more than five minutes ago.”

“Yup,” she answered. “I know.” Maya had watched Robby's location bounce away from the Pitt on her phone screen before leaving the coffee shop to come over. “Is Abbot—?”

“That’s Uncle Abbot to you, kid,” Jack chided as he set down his tablet on the counter. Maya hadn’t called him that more than once or twice, same as with Uncle Jack. Something about those names hadn’t rolled quite right off of Maya’s tongue when she was younger, and once she tried out Uncle Abe as an alternative she’d never gone back. “Does your dad know you’re here?”

Since entering adulthood, she had shown up three times unannounced to the ER during the night shift where she tried to escape notice and avoid her dad finding out—all three times she was unsuccessful and every time, Abbot had done the duty as her dad’s best friend and placed the call, letting him know where his kid was. 

“Are you hurt?”

“Hey, Uncle Abe." Maya rolled her eyes, but welcomed the hug he pulled her into. "I’m fine. It’s a social visit. Brought you coffee.” 

“Hey, kiddo,” he answered, his tone lighter. Maya wasn't sure it was because of her health status or the caffeine delivery. “You just missed him.” 

Abbot reached around Maya for one of the coffees, briefly telling Parker something about the lady in C3 that Maya didn’t bother listening to, busying herself with her phone while they talked. 

"Was Robby supposed to wait for you?" Abbot asked. "He had a busy afternoon..."

Maya shook her head, cutting off Abbot's defending of her dad though she stowed the information about the long day away from later. “I’m actually here to see you. Had a quick question. 

Abbot hummed, eyebrow raised as he took a sip of the coffee. “Not that I’m not pleased to see you, but you do have my number, right?” 

“Yes…?" Maya answered. 

“‘Cause I haven’t heard from you in awhile and then you show up here out of nowhere with a quick question, so—”

“Of course I have your number.” She had pretty much everyone’s number who worked with her dad, but Jack Abbot’s was one of the first that had been programmed in her phone beside her dad’s—Abbot and Dana and Dr. Adamson’s, who’s cell number she still had saved even though it had been years now since he died. 

“Show me.” 

Maya sighed. “You’re serious?” 

“No cap,” he answered. “It’s important you have it. You know, in case of emergencies…or for quick questions…I hear some people even text each other memes. Tiktoks.” 

“You want me to send you memes and tiktoks?” 

“Bet.” 

“What are you even saying right now?” she asked, her question ending with a giggle as she pulled out her phone and started scrolling through her messages to find their conversation thread, a twinge of guilt rushing over her when she realized it had indeed been awhile since they’d last communicated. 

“Look, you’re right here,” she said, turning the phone to him, showing the contact she hadn’t changed in a decade—Uncle Abe. 

“Good. Make sure you use it a little more often. Help an old guy keep up with the young kids around here. Med students and new nurses coming in are your age these days. Literal children.”

Maya had every intention of arguing that point, but Abbot continued before she could even get started.

“Anyway, your dad says school’s been kicking your ass lately?”

Maya shrugged. “It’s fine. Just midterms.” 

“Well, he’s worried about you.” 

“What else is new?” she asked. “And he’s the one who always put such an emphasis on academics, so it's sort of his doing.”

Robby had been pretty laid back about most things, but health, safety, and education had been non-negotiable.

“Education’s important.” 

“Hence why I’m enrolled in a graduate school program when I could be free.” 

Abbot snorted. “Alright, so to what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked before taking a sip of the coffee.

“Quick question.”

Abbot's eyebrow traveled upwards while he waited for her to expand upon that. 

“Dad’s birthday is coming up.”

“And?” he asked, coaxing her along by moving his free hand in a circular motion.

Maya sighed, her whole body sagging. “And I don’t know what to get him.” 

“That’s not a question.” 

“Fine. Let me rephrase. Do you have any ideas? The man doesn’t need or want for anything.”  It probably wasn’t true, but it was certainly Maya’s perception. “I mean, half of his clothes are probably as old as me, but you know how he is...”

Stuck in his ways was what Maya was thinking. She didn’t bother saying it though because Abbot knew just as well as she did. 

“He doesn’t want you spending your money on him.” 

“Yeah, I know. Because he can spend on me and everyone else, but god forbid—”

“You’re his kid, Maya," Abbot interrupted. "He just wants to spend time with you. Do something together. Head out to the cabin for the weekend, if you want.” 

“That’s…” Maya tilted her head at the suggestion. She hadn’t even considered Abbot’s cabin. They hadn’t been there in ages, but they’d had a handful of really nice trips up there just disconnected from everything over the years.

“Brilliant? Perfect?” Abbot suggested when Maya didn't immediately complete her though. “Yeah, I know. If you don’t mind, could you make sure to say it loud enough so the rest of them will hear you?” 

“Well, honestly, yeah. It is brilliant,” she offered. “Would you maybe want to come with us?” 

“Me?" he asked, already shaking his head. "No, it’s your thing.” 

“But i’s your cabin,” she answered. “And you’re his best friend. When’s the last time you two hung out outside of this place?” she prodded. 

Abbot raised his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“I’m literally asking that question, so yes,” she said, though she didn’t wait long enough for him to supply an answer. “This is perfect. You can tell him you need him to come up to help with something for the day and then finangle the schedule to work in our favor and I’ll just show up and we’ll surprise him.”

“I’m sure he’d rather just have a weekend with his kid.”

“And maybe Jake can come, too,” she continued, almost as if Abbot hadn't spoken. “Just like old times. Can you both be off on the 18th and the—?” 

“Maya.” 

Maya blinked at hearing her name, almost as if him saying it pulled her from a trance. “What?”

“You and Jake take him," he said. "Just the three of you. He’ll love it.” 

Maya frowned, a small crease appearing between her furrowed brows. “He’ll love it more if you come.” 

“It’s—”

“It’s your cabin, and I want you to come,” she argued. “You just said we don’t talk enough. We’ll talk all weekend, and then we can kick their asses at cards…please please pleeeeease?” 

Maya took a breath, preparing herself for another round of pleading.

“Alright, alright. Fine.” 

A grin grew immediately on Maya's face. “Really?”

“You had me at ass kicking,” Abbot said with a smirk before he leaned forward, cradling the back of Maya's head as he kissed her hairline. “I gotta do my rounds and you should go catch up with your dad. He’s looking forward to seeing you. Text me later to work out the details.” 

Parker snorted as Abbot walked away. She'd already sipped two thirds of her iced coffee.

“What?” Maya asked.

“Nothing.” Parker shrugged. “Just surprised you managed to get both of them to take two days off.”

Abbot and Robby were both known for hoarding vacation time, and Robby was even worse now that his kid was grown up and out on her own.

“Oh,” Maya said. “I mean, my dad will probably be pissed for a minute." Maya shivered, almost as if she could see his stare and hear the tone he'd say her name in when he figured it out. "Hopefully he'll be more mad at Abbot than me...and I mean, the cabin was his idea after all...”

The Pitt Masterlist

[dragonmasterhiccup]

The cage was cramped with three angry dragons backed up against each other, hissing at all sides as their flanks were pressed together in a tight circle. No matter what, not a one of them would dare move, no matter who walked by or what sounds that echoed around their bizarre floating wooden prison startled them. The dragons were not the concern.

After all, they had teeth, fangs, and fire...their sister did not. She was nothing more than a walking spindly skeleton covered in exposed flesh swaddled in bundles of shed dragon skin collected from her own family. She didn't have the means to defend herself that her brothers did, though she certainly would try.

The white dragon tinged with the blues of the sea was the most outwardly hostile and antagonistic, hissing and spitting at the slightest movement and sound that neared them, green eyes blazing from the darkness, while his silver and gold brothers each continued to be cautious.

They could survive these small armoured creatures that had the same proficiency to build tools that their sister did. They were mighty dragons, after all. The scourges of the sky and of the daylight. She...their sister was only their dearest little runt.

The trio of brothers would sooner die than allow these trappers to separate them from her. If they dared try, they would lose more than just spears.

However, despite the clear difference in size and threat between herself and her brothers, the scrawny women wrapped in pale skin still growled and hissed as gutturally as her comparatively weak vocal chords could allow. Though, the years had given her the remarkable ability to accurately mimic the communication style of her family and even other dragon species despite her limitations.

But she wouldn't allow her brothers to think she wouldn't fight to protect them as fiercely as they would to protect her. They were her brothers...she wouldn't let these people - Vikings, as she vaguely recalled the word from her very young and foggy childhood - hurt her brothers.

Their mother would never forgive her if she let that happen.

@the-stranger-of-the-hidden-world

(Hi! Been lurking for a little while, hope this is okay as an introduction!)

This was different than their past raids.

Hiccup, from the scout reports, there weren't many dragons on the ship, but the species they held was rare.

Now Hiccup would have worked to free them either way, but he knew the stakes were high with how rare these particular dragons were.

Flying in low, the other dragon riders trailed behind him. His mother and Eret had joined for this particular mission as well.

Hiccup leapt off of Toothless, Astrid doing the same, and they used their flight suits to glide down to the deck, landing without making any noise.

They crept forward, knocking any hunters unconscious that they came across, as the other riders landed with their dragons, Hiccup found himself standing in front of a large cage.

Lifting his mask, his eyes widened in awe at the three dragons before him. But, their stance was rather unusual.

It almost looked like...were they protecting another? Hiccup couldn't tell through the dark.

That wasn't the only thing that shocked him, though. "You... you look like Night Furies, except...brighter..."

He couldn't believe what he was seeing!

But, these dragons needed to be freed first.

As the other riders worked to distract and stop the remaining hunters, Hiccup approached the cage carefully, hand held out towards the dragons.

He spoke softly, in a calm manner. "Hey, hey! It's okay, it's okay...I'm going to break you out, okay? I just need to..."

Approaching the cage lock, he realized it wasn't a pickable lock...but, it didn't appear to be Gronckle iron.

"Toothless! Plasma blast!"

The dragon appeared in the darkness behind Hiccup, blasting the lock, destroying it.

It didn't look like the dragons had any muzzles on, which was good.

Hiccup stepped back, swinging the door open. Seeing how aggressive these dragons were, he wanted to give them space.

"Go on. Hurry, before they can track you!"

[leyiorr]

i can't stop looking at her t-t-t-t, FACE!

mdni.

satoru gojo is doomed.

why is he doomed, you ask? well, put bluntly, you, his girlfriend of five months, are driving him absolutely crazy.

crazy is an understatement, actually. insane, mad, mental, unhinged, deranged, bonkers - whatever you want to call it. he's holding on by a thread; the thinly woven string known as sanity growing ever weaker as the days roll by and turn into weeks.

of course, he's only blaming you. you hadn't actually done anything wrong.

you're the first relationship satoru's had in his life, and he'd be damned if some inappropriate thoughts ruin his chances with the love of his life. he'd never been happier - dating you gave him the kind of happiness he thought only existed in movies; the kind of giddiness of a child in a candy store.

he was devoted to you in every way, shape and form - you are everything he's dreamed of and more.

more.

that's right, you were more.

recently, you were the devil's temptation personified.

surprisingly, even after twenty-odd years of being one of the most attractive guys around, and having women throw themselves at him like he's some kind of greek deity, satoru is a virgin. i'll repeat that, he is a virgin. a fact that only suguru knows. a fact that he's neglected to tell his girlfriend.

he may have a flirtatious personality and the ability to charm ninety percent of the human race with one of his thousand-kilowatt smiles, but in truth, he had never dated anyone. ever. let alone got his dick in a pussy.

so when he starts wanting to go further, he's not sure how to bring it up without sounding like a horndog.

it all started when you wore a sleek black dress to one of your dates. it clung to your figure, fabric wrapping shamelessly around your every curve and tickling your midthigh at its end. and if that wasn't bad enough, it had a plunging neckline, giving the world - satoru specifically - an eyeful of the assets god gifted you with. your boobs were practically spilling out of your dress, the light catching your cleavage as you held his arm. he could feel himself salivating like some sort of perv. how was he supposed to focus with aphrodite's personal creation hanging off his arm?

his eyes began to drift to the flesh of your chest more than he'd like to admit. all sorts of r-rated scenarios ran through his head and he dared to entertain every. single. one. he could do so much with them, tease them, spit on them, pinch them, suck on them, put his dick between them-

“satoru?”

his gaze snaps back to your face at record speed. you notice how he's chewing his bottom lip, flush creeping onto his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. his hands are clammy; there's suddenly too little oxygen in his room.

“did you listen to anything i said?” your arms fold beneath your bosom and satoru almost implodes.

what do you expect him to do? the necklace around your neck has his initial on it, and it hovers over your tits almost mockingly. if it snapped, the letter would fall right between the valley of your breasts-

“satoru!”

he's choking on his saliva, apologizing profusely as he encourages you to continue your story - though he hasn't heard shit over the blood pumping loudly in his ears.

it's a battle no, a war between his rationality and his desires and he doesn't know which is winning. his rationality wins when he's around you - he just sucks in a breath and thugs it out, no matter how much his dick shouts at him. but in private, he's letting the desires win as his fists himself to the thought of you, your lips, your ass; your boobs.

the first time he sees you in a bikini he has to take a breather before he can get into a game of beach volleyball with you and the group.

(and even then he was struggling. every time you jumped for the ball the only thing he was looking at was your tits.)

he should be neutered. effective immediately.

it drags out for so long that you finally notice, and force him to talk to you about why he's avoiding you, and if you'd done anything wrong. but all you get is:

“baby, i'm so sorry- you're so pretty and i can't help myself. i didn't know how to bring up that i wanted to take our relationship to the next step, you mean the world to me and i'd hate to make you uncomfortable-” he trips and stumbles over his words-

“...is that it?”

and his eyes bug out of his head as he stares at you. weeks, months of agony over this and all you have to say is 'is that it'?

he doesn't even have chance to respond; to process your words before you're popping the top button of your blouse.

yeah, satoru gojo is doomed.

[writersblockiskillingme]

Russian Roulette | The Salesman

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!reader

Summary: After doing everything in your power to find the salesman who got you and Gi-hun into all this mess, he unexpectedly shows up in your motel room.

Warning/s: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2!!, angst, unspoken feelings (until now), guns, playing Russian Roulette, threatening, mocking, blood, character death, cursing (maybe, idk), tears, talk about the games, tension, reader gives off femme fatale energy, also reader has longer hair to fit into a braid but if you don't just ignore it please, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: I just watched the first few episodes, and for a little while, I got out of the writers block. NO SPOILERS, PLEASE!

Prequel to this fic here!

Rain was pouring down like crazy, wind blowing around as I drove my black car with full speed as I tried to get to the Pink Motel that Gi-hun and I co-owned as fast as I possibly could after today's events. Gun that was placed on the seat next to me was jumping slightly as I drow down the road every time I hit a bump or such. My left hand gripped the steering wheel til my knuckles turned pure white as my right hand gripped the phone to the same extent.

"I found bloodstains there!" I practically shouted into my phone as I came to a stop, the images of blood seeping down the trash bags and the knife thrown on the ground never really leaving my mind. "Gi-hun is still looking, I'm sure they didn't get far from that alley."

"What do we do, miss?"

"Check all the CCTV and dashcam footage you can collect from the area and keep asking around." I continued to practically shout for him to hear me over the rain on the street, my braid swinging over on my left shoulder as I got out of the car, running towards the entrance to the Pink Motel.

"I'll join you soon." And with that, I ended the call, quickly putting my phone in the left pocket of my jacket.

I roughly pulled loose threads of hair that fell on my eyes as I quickly took out the key. However, I came to a sudden stop. Something wasn't right. I found myself freezing as I slowly moved my head to look around. That's when I noticed. The sign of the Pink Motel was lit up.

Someone is here, and they want me to know that.

I stood there in the rain for a little while before I decided to take a deep breath before entering. I walked up all the way to the fourth floor before entering, the light going on as I did. I walked into my bedroom as quietly as I could. But even before I could prepare myself for what I was about to see, just as I walked to the end of the first corner, I saw him.

After three years of endlessly, tirelessly trying to find him, he was here. Right in front of me. He was standing in front of my wall, a shining black gun in his hand, looking at the calendar on which I crossed the dates with red marker every single day for three years. Next to in was a map of the underground, every single route mapped out, drawn on, and my handwriting shone on it to.

"It's been a long time, Miss."

For a while, I said nothing. I was just standing there, soaking wet, the rain that I took with me inside dripping on the floor. I was staking in his appearance for a moment. He was just as tall as I remember, standing there in his suit. For a moment, it seemed like he didn't change one bit, like nothing changed from the moment that I fist saw him on the train station three years ago.

But it did.

His hair was longer, I won the games alongside Gi-hun, we weren't on the train station, but in my Motel room, he wasn't holding a briefcase, he was holding a gun and I didn't.

But his voice was the same, he was still as tall as I remember, I suppose his smile was the same, too. And maybe, just maybe, he was feeling the same feelings he did three years ago before I gained and lost it all.

I just sighed and moved towards the table I ate. There was a towel that I threw last night. I started to pat my hair, trying to dry it off as I looked around for some dry clothes.

"You should've gotten on that plane that day." He said, looking over at me as I paused.

"I changed my mind when I saw you there." I said before continuing to dry myself.

The moment of quiet continued as I put the towel away. He tapped the map with his gun before he started to speak again. I truly didn't know how to feel. After I wasted three years trying to find him, he just shows up at my motel room. Funny.

"It looks like you've been trying hard to find me, darling." I could just hear that ignorant smirk in his voice. Motherfucker.

"Don't let it get to your head." I told him slowly, my voice completely calm. "I just wanted to thank you." I said as I took off my wet jacket, throwing it in the corner.

"Thank me?" He asked as he sat down on one of the sofas by the table next to my bed. I turned to look at him slowly, a dry jacket in my hand. That's when I noticed blood on the collar of his suit and his face. Motherfucker.

"For inviting me to the game." I said as I approached him, his eyes on me as I sat down, opposite him. "I won and took a bloody fortune with me."

He kept quiet, listening to me, his dark eyes flickering all over my face as I spoke.

"So the decent thing of me to do would be to thank you for it."

"I'm just a messenger who delivers invitations." He smirked, but before he could say more, I continued, all off my anger resurfacing.

"And just who had you deliver those invitations, handsome?" I spoke, venom infecting my every word. "Let me meet him. I have something to say to him."

"Give me the message, and I'll pass it along." He continued, giving me a smile at the end. It appears that I was right. His smile is the same.

"Oh, dear." I mockingly pouted as I crossed my legs. "I'm afraid that it's not something I can discuss with an underling like you."

His smile quivered as he raised his eyebrow. Waiting on me to continue.

"You prey on people who are hanging by a thread and corner them at subway stations." I could feel myself slowly starting to shake from anger and despair. "Someone like you wouldn't be able to understand what I'm trying to say, of course."

For a while, there was silence yet again. We were just looking at each other. Our eyes never leaving each other's.

"You know what the funniest thing was?"

"What, miss?"

"For a moment, when I was hunting you down, I was just delusional enough to think that we could actually team up. You know? Take down the games and whoever was behind them. I liked you. And I liked to think that. But now I realize just how wrong I was." I whispered, turning away from him as I spoke. Yet I still felt his eyes on me. "And boy was I wrong. You will never change. You like the monstrous things that you are doing."

"How do you think I got to where I am now?"

"I don't fucking care." I spat at him as I turned to look at him again, his expression unreadable. "I don't care how you became their dog. I just want you to bring me your master."

He looked down, sighing as he cracked his neck, gun still in his hold. After a while he spoke again.

"I used to work in the games when I was younger. I removed and burned the bodies of countless people like you."

He was the pink guard once.

"'These things aren't human. They're just trash utterly useless in this world.' I kept telling myself that and worked hard for a few years." He spoke, suddenly smiling again. "Then they gave me a gun."

The triangle guard.

"It felt pretty good." He said as he lifted up his gun, examining it. "Like my existence was acknowledged for the first time in my life. I don't know which year it was, but one day, I was about to shoot a man who had lost a game. The guy seemed familiar. Guess who it was."

I kept quiet.

"My dad." He finally said. "My dad was suddenly standing in front of me. He was in tears, desperately begging me to spare his life."

He suddenly moved his hand, placing the gun in front of my forehead, but his suddenly, quick movement did not startle me one bit. I was used to it.

"I shot him right in the middle of his forehead, and realized, 'Ah. I'm cut out for this job.'"

He was looking straight at me, his dark eyes mad. I narrowed mine at him. Was I supposed to feel sorry for him? Maybe, but I didn't. Not only did he enjoy it, but he also has no idea how it was like for me. All the things Gi-hun and I went through. All of people we lost along the way... Ali... Sae-byeok... Sang-woo...

"Whether you shoot people in there or con them outside, it doesn't change anything." I said, slowly leaning over towards him. "You have always been nothing more than their dog."

He clicked his gun, putting his finger on the trigger, his expression darkening.

"Miss." He started, his hand shaking slightly as I kept completely still. "Do you think you're special because you won the game?"

I said nothing. My expectation still as I leaned forward just a bit more, pressing my forehead directly on his gun. His dark expression broke into one of shock.

"Someone like you could never know or understand how I made it out of there alive. And how it feels to play the games."

Suddenly, he pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. My expression barely changed, yet I could he on his face that my eyes old him every. Shock, disappointment and sadness.

He sighed before leaning over to me on the table that until now kept us at a distance. He was quiet for a while. I suppose he has always been that way.

"Let's play a game." He smiled at me.

I didn't say anything. He pulled out his phone and placed it on the table, letting a song play.

Time to say goodbye.

He leaned back against the seat as he lifted up his gun.

"I'm sure you've seen this in the movies." He started to explain, never breaking eye contact with me. "It's called Russian Roulette."

Motherfucker.

"Usually, you place one bullet in the gun, spin the cylinder, and pull the trigger." He said, clicking the gun in its place before pulling the trigger, explaining the game as he showed me what to do. "And before the next round, you spin the cylinder again. It rests the odds back to 1 in 6."

"I know." I mumbled and he smiled.

"But I'd like to make this game a little more serious." He smirked. "Because you're truly special, love."

"Cut to the chase." I glared at him and his stupid antics. He blinked at me and continued.

"We'll take turns pulling the trigger without spinning the cylinder again. The bullet will be fired within six attempts, and the game will be over." He paused. "What do you say?"

"Spin the gun." I frowned.

He smirked before gently placing the gun on the table. This could end badly on both sides, but for a moment, I found myself being selfish. Maybe, just maybe, if I lost this game after everything I went through, I could die and find peace with the people I lost. I could join them and leave with the feelings I have for him, that he possibly realized, unsaid. I could finally end it all. The night terrors, the time I spent searching for him, my cigarette addiction, mourning what I lost and what I couldn't have, yet at the same time not enjoying the money I got form the games. Who could enjoy that? Who could possibly enjoy living the life that I live.

He spinned the gun, and its tip pointed at me. Without a second thought, I took the gun and placed it by the side of my head. A few seconds later, not looking away from him, I pulled the trigger. Noting happened. That chamber was empty.

I put the gun on the table. I barely had time to move my hand before he took the gun, placed it by his head just like I did and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He sighed in content as he placed the gun back on the table, smiling at me almost lovingly. I knew.

I took the gun and placed it by my head again, but before I could just pull the trigger he spoke up.

"I've always wondered how you made it out of there alive." He smiled before he laughed a little. "For, one thing, you were even terrible at ddakji."

I said nothing, glaring at him. I pulled the trigger. Nothing happened once again.

He looked at me, impressed by my luck so far. I looked him straight in the eyes as I threw the gun on the table. It slid over on the other side, right in front of me.

He took the gun after he took a moment to just look at me. Not breaking eye contact, he took the gun. Leaned over to me until he was basically touching me, pointing the gun at me. Then he did something that I did not expect at all. He put the gun in his mouth.

Motherfucker.

He pulled the trigger. I winced a little. Nothing again. He laughed at my expression as I tried my hardest to keep myself composed. He slowly took the gun out of his mouth before sitting back, putting the gun back on the table.

I took the gun and as I was about to place it by my head he spoke up again.

"What's the matter?" He asked me, raising his eyebrows. "Is your mind starting to race?"

I scoffed slightly.

Motherfucker.

"Now your odds of death are 1 in 2." He nodded. "That's pretty high indeed. I'm sure you're afraid, darling. Lots going through your mind."

I said nothing.

"Let me guess what you're thinking right now." Motherfucker. "'The gun is in my hand. Screw the rules. Pull the trigger once or twice, and I can blow his face off.' Isn't that right?"

I kept looking at him, glaring as I did. All while he spoke. "If you and Gi-hun want to meet the person you mentioned earlier, the key is in my pocket." At that I allowed my eyes to travel all over him. "You can simply shoot me with that gun and take it. But I'll have you admit one thing."

He took a moment to pause, my hand still holding the gun by my head. He leaned over once again.

"That you're a piece of trash, just like Gi-hun, just like everyone else that was in the games." He leaned over more closely, our lips practically touching as he spoke. "A piece of trash who got lucky and made it out of the dumpster."

He laughed as I pressed the gun against my head, our lips barely an inch away from each other's. This was it, I thought to myself. This round will determine if I live or die. I tightened the grip on the gun, my knuckles turning white again. I pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He looked at me, then at the gun and then back at me. I started to chuckle lowly, like a maniac. Perhaps I was one. I watched his face closely as I pulled the gun away from my head. The grip on the gun still tight as I pointed it at his chin before slowly opening up my palm, waiting on him to take the final, real shot.

His hand touched mine. I felt him and myself freeze at the contact as he took the gun from my hand. I pulled my hand away as he looked at the gun.

"What's the matter?" I taunted him, my face mirroring the smirk that he always wears. "Is your mind starting to race?"

He said nothing as I spoke to him.

"That's right. Screw the rules. Now, with a single pull of the trigger, you could kill me." He looked pale at my words. "But... before you leave me forever this time. I'll have you admit two things."

He looked at me as I brought my hand at his cheek, wiping a little bit of blood on his face.

"You put a mask on your face and do whatever your master says. You run, bark, and wave your tail for them. You're nothing more than their dog." I told him before my voice became gentle.

He waited on me, his eyes soft.

"And regarding this." I said as I waved my hand slightly between the two of us. "You really are a dog. A dog that loves me. And... perhaps I am a fool, too. Because I love a dog that could've made it all work out for us but was too much of a coward to do so."

I leaned over to him, my hand landing under his chin, holding him.

"Admit it." I whispered as we looked each other in the eyes. "Admit that you love me, that you did ever since you gave me that fucking card."

For a moment, there was silence. His tortured eyes, looking at me. I knew. I always did. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, for a moment. This would be the last time that I spoke to him, that I could look into his eyes.

"I love you." He whispered.

All of a sudden, there was a loud sound followed by blood spraying my face as his body fell backward.

I stood up and walked over to him. I don't know how long I stood there, but after a while, I felt a tear sliding down my cheek. My hand touched my cheek as I whipped it away.

Motherfucker.

[somnoir]

Damian's future husband

Got inspired by this specific line in a Tumblr thread and my brain went to work

Phantom was a strange hero—a vigilante that often worked with Justice League Dark. Constantine was always so antsy around the man, while Phantom himself often muttered about taxes and blasted fragments whenever said trech coat man was in the vicinity.

The Bats were, of course, initially apprehensive of the death defying being that could rip a man skeleton out of their body, manipulate space itself to rip open portals to different dimensions, and vanish better than they did. They were wary, mildly hostile after realising that Phantom had now issue killing.

But then time passed and Phantom was proven to not be a serial killer but only used killing as a last resort. Though Batman wasn't too pleased, he was—begrudgingly—tolerant of that. Because, yes, Phantom was a nice guy, a very likeable person in general. He made sure that the environmental damage during battles were kept to a minimum, he chose civilians over the enemy whenever it came to hostage situations, he was tactile and kind, and he cared so much for the innocent that he was willing to lose his innocence to keep theirs.

Of course Batman was fond of the young man, especially when he found out that Jason of all people had some sort of crush on him. A very big and almost pathetic one that he and Alfred would watch while sipping tea.

Seriously, Jason was his son! Has he not learned anything from his Brucie persona? The poor thing was like a Victorian maiden and would be scandalised at the mere thought of showing an ankle.

It was embarrassing how he'd practically start blue screening the moment Phantom was in the vicinity. As a father, Bruce was gracious enough not to bully his poor son whenever it came to Phantom. His siblings, on the other hand, held no such qualms and mercilessly dug into Jason.

In all honesty, he pitied Jason after hearing that Phantom assumed that Jason just didn't like him.

He really had to talk to him.

"You fucking hypocrite."

And that was a failure because Bruce forgot that he was just as constipated as his son.

"I'm not taking advice from the man who couldn't even try to be softer in his secret crush!"

With that, Jason slammed the door and left.

Okay... Plan B?

But what the hell was plan B?

Right.

Dick Grayson.

Bruce: About your brother...

Bird child #1: OH MY GOD

Bird child #1: THANK FUCK YOU FINALLY MENTIONED IT

Bruce: it's become an issue

Bruce: Alfred has commented that it's pathetic now.

Bird child #1: Wait wait

Bird child #1: I'll add you to the group chat!

And this Bruce Wayne found himself in a GC named 'Phantom of the Watchtower'. Along with all the complaints expressed by both family and friends when it came to Jason's bullshit.

Ah well... At least he wasn't alone in the suffering.

(Jason did not need to know that there was a video of him grappling through Gotham, Phantom passing by and waving at him, and Jason proceeding to hit a wall mid flight.)

Dick knows that his little wing has had trouble in relationships for a long time. His resurrection changed him, changed how he perceived his relationships. Dick didn't have the heart to be mad about it.

Phantom's arrival was a breath of fresh air for them.

But he suspects that Jason's attraction began with the fact that Phantom had died young as well. Fourteen from what was said. He had died much younger than Jason and had came back a hero, willing to protect the innocent and do what was best for those around him. Sometimes Dick suspects that Jason not only wanted to be with Phantom, but also to be similar to him.

Now he's watching Jason fumble with his words again, immediately going quiet once he realized that nothing coherent was coming out of his mouth. The helmet most likely hid how red his face was.

"Are you alright?" Phantom asked, frowning up at Jason. "You don't feel too good. Is the corrupted ecto acting up again? Oh, I knew I should have sped up the process of removing it but then it'd be very painful if I did it at once. And Frostbite recommended that we went slowly so we could monitor the side effect... And, and—"

"I'm okay." Red Hood immediately assured, his hand practically flying to Phantom's cheek then he shoved it down before he could even touch Phantom. "It's been a long day."

"Is the Joker out again?" Phantom's frown deepened.

Another thing Dick has learned about the dead and the undead! The fact that their murderer was still active unsettled then greatly and affected their entire mentality and behaviour.

"No. No. He hasn't tried escaping."

Phantom hummed, "I see. So what's bothering you."

"It's nothing." Jason grunted, sounding a little too much like Bruce for Dick's liking.

Okay, nope, he wasn't going to let this continue if his baby brother was going to continue making Phantom assumed he didn't like him. Nightwing to the rescue!

"Phantom! Hi!" Nightwing quite literally dropped into the alley, running his fingers through his hair and smoothly directing Jason away from whatever catastrophic misunderstanding he was walking into.

"Hello Nightwing! It's nice to see you again? How's Kori? Oooh! I wanted to invite her to a space date again—" He rambled on and on, eyes practically starry. Wait, nevermind. His eyes really were starry.

(Meanwhile, Jason was cursing his older brother for taking the attention from but also very thankful that Phantom didn't have to witness his stupidity again.)

Tim had noticed that the Joker hasn't attempted to break out in a long... Long time.

It's not a bad thing, no. It was great, in all honesty. But of course, Tim was paranoid, almost batshir crazy (pun intended, in the words of his damn boyfriends). The surveillance feed on Arkham was updated a long time ago, watching it very closely until static overtook the screen.

"Replacement," Tim startled, blinking before he saw Jason peering at him with a questioning look. Practically interrogating him on the spot. "The hell is that?"

"I don't know." Tim clicked his tongue, "This hasn't happened after Babs and I updated those damn cameras. Fuck, give me a second..."

"Did the Joker get out?" Jason practically growled.

"No, no. I'm sure he didn't. He would have been causing trouble by now." Tim reassured, clicking his tongue again before the feed went back to normal. Joker's cell seemed perfectly fine, with the Joker fast asleep on his little cot. "See, just some static. Maybe Phantom passed by."

The mere mention of Phantom has Jason blue screening, instincts kicking in as his older brother shoved his helmet over his head again. Then the idiot gets on his bike and speeds out of the cave.

Coward.

Tim whipped his head around, quickly surveying the area.

The static wasn't random. Phantom always had to be in front of the camera to directly affect the feed. So thank fuck when he made friends with Phantom's teammate—Pharaoh—and figured out how to fix any distorted imagery.

He sees Phantom standing over the Joker's unconscious body, plunging his hand into the maniac's chest and pulled out a glowing green orb. A core, from what he remembered. Holy shit, was the Joker a ghost too?

But he saw how Phantom seemed to put restraints around it, literal chains before shoving it back inside.

Slowly, Phantom turned to the camera, his entire figure still distorted, but he could see that fanged grin that his brother seemed to swoon over.

(The Joker was still alive, very much, but no one could understand how he was stuck in an almost permanent coma. Tim wasn't going to give Jason even more reason to start giggling over Phantom, unless he wanted to ruin the entire Dead on Main operation.)

Damian did not quite understand the insanity that was multiple individuals (including those that were not of their brood) attempting to matchmake Todd with Phantom. He didn't understand what was so great about Phantom, in all honesty.

He was heroic, powerful, and quite intelligent. Many people held similar traits. Perhaps it was the fact that he was a deathly being that attracted Todd in the first place.

"Hello, Robin!" Phantom greeted one day, eyes shimmering like the stars in his cape. "Superboy said you had something to tell me?"

Damian shifted slightly, "Yes. Are you aware of the Lazarus Pits?"

"Ah... Yes, of course. My court and I have been trying to destroy all of them. The Lazarus is corrupted ectoplasm that has been mixed with filth of all kinds." Phantom hummed.

"Filth of all kinds... Disgusting." Damian frowned, nose scrunching up at the memory that he's bathed in those pits before. "But I digress. I would like to assist in the destruction of the pits. Father and the rest of the family has fretted over my grandfather's pits for many years and we have barely grazed the surface on what the Lazarus truly was."

"I see! I was planning on asking Batman to help out on that. But since you've already asked, would you like to come to the Realms? I'm sure you can interrogate some of the ghosts your grandfather has wronged." Phantom grinned, already offering Damian a hand. He was floating, while Damian stood in the roof and stared at the hand.

It reminded him of the kryptonians. But Phantom's hand was cold and he didn't yank Damian the same way Jon often did.

No, Phantom took Damian's hand and then proceeded to hook an arm around Damian's waist, pulling him of the roof and into the air. And then they were flying into a glowing green portal that reminded Damian of the pits.

The moment they were in the infinite realms, Damian felt the overwhelming pressure of the dead. He swallowed the bile that rose from his throat as Phantom set him down on solid ground. The entire place felt eerie and strange, of course it was. This was the afterlife.

"Right, I forgot." Phantom cursed, "You're not as liminal as my family. Give me a second, baby bat." He murmured, his hand glowing green before it's gently pushed into Damian's chest. A sudden wave of warmth overtook his entire body and Damian stared at the ghost.

"I'm giving you a bit of Ecto to reduce any discomfort here in the realms. It'll flush itself out in 24 hours so don't worry about becoming overly liminal." Phantom smiled softly, before he offered his hand to Damian again. "Let's go? I have to stop by my keep to check the records of Al Ghuls victims."

"Of course."

And instead of being carried like a cat, Phantom picked him up bridal style and flew past what seemed to be floating islands and towards a large red and purple castle.

Is this was Todd feels? Damian asked himself, oddly enjoying this experience.

The moment they landed—

"Your majesty!" A floating eyeball yelled, rushing towards them. "You've brought an outsider—"

"Away with you." Phantom snapped, a crown and cape of stars suddenly appearing on him. "This is Robin. Ra's Al Ghul's grandchild."

"The Demon's head..."

"Yes, now shoo." Phantom snapped, before leading Damian away from the eyeball. "I'm sorry for my Observants. They're a conservative bunch."

"You are a king?"

"Mhm... Though I don't like to advertise it. The last king was a tyrant and I defeated him a little while after my death. I never intended to be king, in all honesty. But here I am." He gestured to the crown of fire and ice and the cape of stars. His grin was strained and quite troubled but he didn't mind leading Damian towards a large room filled with bigger files.

"Now, would you like to search yourself or do you want me to have someone else do it?"

Damian grimaced at the sight. "I'd prefer for someone else to suffer."

And that's how Damian found himself touring the realms, with Phantom happily bringing Damian to the arena where a ghost named Skulker awaited them. The man was a hunter, respectful towards Phantom yet troublesome as he challenged him. Phantom looked utterly annoyed, before he turned to Damian with sparkling eyes.

"What about you, Robin?"

And then Damian was fighting everyone and everything in the realms at the behest and amusement of Phantom. The ghost king provided him with different weapons each time an enemy switched.

It's only when they returned to the land of the living that he's informed that any weapon he's used is now his.

And he has a cat with him! The ghost of a small yet ferocious kitten that had his under Phantom's cape whilst Damian and other ghosts fought to glorious battle. Phantom kindly offered her to him, naming her Astra with the star shaped pupils in her eyes.

Damian is quite sure he has fallen in love.

Damian returns to the manor, utterly awestruck and infatuated. Thankfully (unfortunately), Todd is in attendance when Phantom carries him out of the portal, still held in a bridal carry with Damian actively clinging to Phantom like he had hung the stars (maybe he did).

"Sorry if we worried you! Robin wanted to help with our Lazarus problems since it's also your problem too." Phantom quickly explains once he saw Batman's troubled expression. "Don't worry about your gifts. I'll figure out a way to make you a dimensional bag."

Damian stared, "May I visit the realms again? If you would be amendable to it."

"Of course! You're my favorite, so why wouldn't I?"

Hah! Hear that? Take that, Todd!

Phantom vanishes into his portal seconds later, leaving Damian with the most beautiful and intricated sword in his hands. Blinking quietly, he whirled around and pointed the sword at Jason, who instinctively went into a battle stance.

"You may be my brother, Todd, but if you have not married Phantom once I am of age, I shall fight for his hand in marriage himself."

(Jason knows very well that Damian isn't joking and proceeds to practically plan the most novel-esque confession to date. Jane Austen might just be proud.)

Masterpost

[zoro-sremedy]

IF THIS WORLD WAS MINE!

If this world was mine, I'd take your dreams and make 'em multiply If this world was mine, I'd take your enemies in front of God Introduce 'em to that light, hit them strictly with that fire

Synopsis. You ran away from them after a stolen first kiss.

Including. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Megumi, Yuji, Shiu.

Risk assessment rated T. Make out and kissing, some teasing, nothing too wild I believe.

a/n: here's the text thread, always recommend reading it first!

FIRST KISS HEIST

GOJO SATORU—"SECOND TIME'S THE CHARM (AND A BIT HOTTER)"

You barely get the front door closed before there's a whoosh of cursed energy and Gojo's suddenly inside your apartment, glasses off, eyes glinting like mischief incarnate.

"You ran from me," he says, voice a little breathless with laughter. "You kissed me, then bolted like a tax collector."

You cross your arms, but your grin betrays you. "You ambushed me!"

"I kissed you." He steps closer, fingers slipping under your chin to tilt your face up. "And you liked it."

He's cocky. Unbearably smug. So why are your knees a little weak?

You try to sass him back—"Yeah, maybe I just tripped into it"—but he's already kissing you again. This time it's not so innocent. It's slower, deeper, a teasing press of his lips that dare you to keep up. And you do. Your fingers tangle in his hair before you even realize it.

When he pulls back, he's grinning, eyes heavy-lidded, voice low.

"Mmm," he hums, "told you I'd collect it. And this time, no take-backs."

You're blushing. Giddy. And thoroughly out of breath. "I hate how good you are at that."

He leans in again, this time trailing a kiss to your jaw, down your neck, murmuring, "And I haven't even gotten started…"

You gasp. "Gojo—"

"Too late. You kissed me. This is your fault."

You're half-laughing, half-melting as he walks you backwards to the couch, his grin wicked.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm just gonna make sure you never want to run away again."

GETO SUGURU–"CAUGHT AGAIN"

He catches you again. Cornered in a quiet hallway after a long day, and for a second you think you can slide past him with a casual excuse and your dignity intact.

No such luck.

"You know…" Suguru murmurs, walking toward you with his hands lazily tucked into his coat pockets. "I was wondering if you'd ever come out of hiding."

You press your back to the wall, heart fluttering. "I wasn't hiding."

"Oh? So, you always disappear after a kiss? Should I expect that every time?"

"It wasn't just a kiss," you blurt out, flushing. "You… ambushed me."

"Ambushed?" His smirk grows. "Pretty, if that was an ambush, what I'm planning next is a full-blown siege."

Before you can retreat, his hands slide around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His thumb brushes your cheek.  "Still shy?" he murmurs, dipping his head, voice soft but laced with heat. "Or should I kiss you until you forget how to be?"

You don't answer. You can't. He's already leaning in, slow enough to give you a choice–fast enough that you're dizzy with anticipation.

And when your lips meet this time, it's not tentative or quick. It's claiming. Your fingers curl into his shirt, and his mouth moves with practiced patience that drives you wild–warm, deep, devastating. His free hand cups the back of your head, keeping you close like he's starving and you're the only thing he wants to taste.

When he finally pulls away, you're breathless. He studies your lips like he just painted them himself.

"There," he says smugly. "Now you can go hide again. But I will find you."

Your knees wobble as you backpedal, trying to collect your soul off the floor. Geto just chuckles and leans against the wall, calling after you:

“Next time, don’t wear that lip gloss unless you want me to ruin it again.”

NANAMI KENTO—"YOU STARTED IT"

You kiss him in a moment of reckless courage, too quick and too soft—just a brush of your lips against his—and then, without even looking back, you bolt like your life depends on it.

Nanami doesn't chase you.

He just stands there, fingers still gripping the report you handed him, eyes narrowing like he's re-evaluating his entire day… and maybe his entire life.

And now, hours later, he finds you—curled up in the corner of the office lounge with a book you're definitely not reading.

"You forgot this," he says, holding out your water bottle.

You flinch. "Thanks."

A long pause. Then:

"Is it going to be like this every time?"

"…What?"

"The kiss," Nanami says evenly. "Do I need to prepare for whiplash every time you get bold?"

Your face burns. "I don't—I didn't mean to—It just kind of happened—"

He takes two stride toward you and you immediately tense, heart pounding in your chest like a fire drill.

"I didn't say I minded," he murmurs, gaze flicking to your lips. "But I think next time, you should stay."

Your breath catches when his hand grazes your cheek, thumb tracing lightly over your jaw. And when he leans in this time, it's not rushed or panicked. It's deliberate. Grounded. His mouth meets yours with quiet intensity, lips warm and sure and slow, like he's trying to memorize you.

You melt. Against his chest, into his kiss, into the space between you that suddenly feels infinite.

When he pulls back, his voice is a low rumble near your ear.

"No more running."

You nod weakly. "Okay."

"… Unless it's to my place."

"Nanami—"

He smirks. Just barely. But it's there.

FUSHIGURO TOJI—"COME BACK HERE"

The kiss happens fast. One second you're bickering, the next you're yanking his shirt down and kissing him. A heartbeat later, your eyes widen like you've just committed a felony. You gasp. And then you run.

"Toji, I—!"

You're gone before he can blink. And he just stands there, blinking slowly, like huh.

And then?

He grins.

"Cute," he mutters, cracking his neck. "She's lucky I love a chase."

—

He finds you ten minutes later, tucked behind a storage shelf in some deserted corridor like a gremlin.

He's quiet when he appears, leaning against the wall like he's got all the time in the world, arms crossed and that smirk carved right into his stupidly handsome face.

"You good?" he drawls. "Heart rate stable again? Wanna try that kiss one more time without running?"

You can feel the heat up to your ears immediately. "You weren't supposed to like it."

"Oh, sweets," he grins, walking towards you, eyes glinting, "you think I've been imagining not kissing you back?"

He corners you against the wall, forearms bracketing your head, his mouth dropping close to yours. "Next time you kiss me, you better be ready for what happens after."

You stammer something in defense, but it's lost the second he kisses you.

It's not soft. Not shy. It's him—hungry and dominant and possessive, one big hand gripping your thigh, the other tilting your jaw just the way he likes. You can barely keep up with the heat of it, the teeth, the tongue, the growl of his voice when you whimper into him.

"You got one chance to run," he murmurs against your mouth.

You don't move.

"Good choice."

SHIU KONG—"YOU KISSED ME AND RAN"

It happens like a car crash.

You're mid-argument—heated, flirty, whatever it is you and Shiu do that always ends in someone looking flustered and someone else looking smug—and suddenly… you snap.

You grab his collar, tug him in, and kiss him.

It's soft, surprisingly so. Warm. Real. And when you realize what you've done, you panic.

You bolt.

He doesn't even move—he just stands there, hand hovering near where you'd touched him, lips parted slightly in surprise. For once, Shiu Kong is speechless.

"…Huh."

—

You spend the next half hour spiraling in a quiet corner, texting him and threatening to change your name. So you don't hear him until he's right there again.

"Are you done being dramatic?" he asks, amused. "Or should I come back after you've faked your own death?"

You groan and hide your face. "You're not supposed to find me."

"Yeah, and you're not supposed to kiss me and run, but we're apparently both breaking rules today."

He's close. Too close. You feel the warmth of him before you see the glint in his eyes.

"I didn't plan it," you mutter. "I panicked."

He hums. "Well. Panic better next time."

Then he leans in—smooth, confident— and brushes his mouth over yours again. Slower. More controlled. The kind of kiss that makes you melt straight down to your knees.

He pulls back barely an inch. Smirks. "See? No running. Proud of you."

You smack his arm. He laughs, catching your wrist, stealing one more kiss like it's nothing.

But it's something.

Because Shiu doesn't kiss people twice unless he already sure he's going to want a third.

RYOMEN SUKUNA—"MINE, AND YOU KNEW IT"

You thought you could get away with it.

A soft, impulsive kiss. Heat of the moment. His mouth was right there, he was looking at you with that unholy, devastating hunger and you thought—

"Screw it."

So you kissed him. You kissed Sukuna.

And then—you ran.

But not fast enough.

The air feels different when he finds you—charged, violent, like the moment before lighting hits. You turn, heart pounding, and there he is. Eyes burning. Smirk razor-sharp. Power rolling off like a storm.

"You kissed me," he says, voice low and terrifyingly calm. "And ran."

"Sukuna, I—"

"No." He's in front of you now. One blink and your back's against the wall, his body towering yours, caging you, hand braced beside your head. "You don't get to run. You don't get to touch me like that and disappear."

"I panicked—"

"You know what you were doing," he growls. "You kissed me because you wanted to. Because you've been wanting to. And now—"

His mouth crash against yours.

It's nothing like the kiss you gave him. This one is brutal, consuming. He kisses like he wants to brand the memory into your bones. Tongue, teeth, a low growl vibrating in his throat as his hand fists in your shirt.

You're breathless when he pulls back. He's panting too, eyes blown wide and wild, lips slick from yours.

"You ever run from me again," he whispers, voice hoarse, "I'll make sure your legs never work after I'm done kissing you."

Your brain shorts out. Your knees wobble.

And Sukuna grins, feral. "That's better."

ITADORI YUJI—"RUNAWAY KISSER"

You don't mean to run after kissing him.

It just… happens.

One second, you're looking at his pretty mouth and laughing at his dumb joke, and the next—your lips are on his. It's sweet. Barely two seconds. But it's warm and real and Yuji blinks at you like you just granted him three wishes.

So you do what any sane, overwhelmed person would do.

You bolt.

But not fast enough.

Even after texting and running as fast as you can—he was right there. "HEY—" you hear behind you. "WAIT!! I WANNA KISS YOU TOO!!!"

You don't get far. Yuji's faster—of course he is. He catches up just as you read the stairs, and suddenly his arms are around you, spinning you into a squeaky little gasp-laugh before he sets you down.

His face is flushed pink, but his smile is pure sunshine.

"You kissed me," he says breathlessly. "I've been waiting for you to do that."

"I panicked," you mumble.

"I loved it," he beams.

And then he kisses you—fully, firmly, with both hands cupping your cheeks and a sweet little hum in his throat. Like he's been saving it. Like he's sealing a promise.

You melt. Instantly.

"You're not running again, right?" he asks as you lean into him.

"No," you whisper. "Definitely not."

"Good," he grins. "Because I have at least, like, twenty more kisses saved up."

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI—"CAUGHT YOU"

You weren't supposed to kiss him. You were just going to say good night.

But Megumi looked soft. He leaned against your doorframe, hair mussed, eyes heavy with sleep—and something in you jumped. A rush of affection. A surge of nerves. And suddenly you were kissing him—quick, tentative—

And running.

Not far. Just out the door. Down the hall. Heart thudding like a criminal while you hid behind a wall. You barely make it three steps further after the texts before a hand closes around your wrist.

"You're not getting away with that," Megumi says.

He doesn't sound mad. He doesn't even sound surprised.

You turn slowly, breath caught, eyes wide as his fingers slip from your wrist to your hand, tugging gently.

"You kissed me," he says quietly. "You don't get to vanish like that."

You open your mouth to apologize, to make a joke, to say anything—

But he's already kissing you.

And it's so different from yours. Slower. Intentional. His hand is on your waist, the other brushing your cheek, and the kiss deepens like he's waited forever for this moment. His lips part yours with a quiet insistence that makes your knees go soft.

When he pulls back, just barely, his voice is low against your lips.

"If you run again, I'm dragging you back."

"… Okay," you breathe.

"Good."

He kisses you again—this time with a smug little smirk that definitely means you're not going anywhere

[luvyeni]

⠀ ( drabble ) juno ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 심재윤 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ ready to spend the rest of your life with jake ヾ

boyfriend!jake・ reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎ ‎ ‎soft sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ wc ・ ‎0.8k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. can i request… being so down bad in love w a good guy jake (princess treatment and all) and perhaps.. inspired by sabrina’s “juno” 😸 the song has been a brainrot for me 😿 can be fluff but also spicy pretty please thank u <3

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 this was just too cute and i love sabrina 🥺😭

you were deeply in love with jake , it was almost scary at times because you've never felt this type of way for another human being , and then he came along and completely warped your mind.

it's not like you were the only one in love; he was the reason you were like this— he basically waited on you; when he was around you could turn your brain off and let him do everything , and everything he did. jake cleaned , cooked, bought your clothes; he'd go to work for you if he could.

you've never given marriage or starting a family a long thought , if it happened it happened; if it didn't you were fine with living a single child free life, but with jake — you were definitely leaning into the you want it to happen side , a family with jake seemed like a dream. “baby.”

you smiled hearing your boyfriend's voice. “baby what are you doing in here , i told you i cook for you so you don't have to worry your pretty little head.” wrapped his arms around your waist. “but it does smell good.” he kissed your cheek. “i made it for you jakey.” you smiled. “what's the occasion?”

“to show how much i love you.” he chuckled. “you do that all the time.” he rubbed your waist. “i cook for you, okay princess?” you pouted. “fine but when we get married and have kids don't complain when you have to cook all the time.”

“when we get married?” he said your eyes widened at what you said. “i can't believe i said that.” you began to panic, thinking you scared him off. “im-im sorry , i wasn't…” he shut you up with a kiss , quick to turn the stove off. he pulled away, caressing your cheek. “you wanna get married?”

you nodded shyly , he smiled. “have a few babies?” he chuckled seeing you shy away. “no don't hide from me , i want this too , just waited for you to give me the go.” he kissed you passionately. “so let me fuck you tonight.” he whispered. “give you a baby and in the morning i’ll get you the best ring i can get.”

after basically giving him the go, he was taking you back to the room, laying you down gently like he always did, stripping you of your clothes , diving head first into your cunt. “jake.” you moaned, he always made sure to make you cum on his tongue before fucking you , and right now he needed you to be as wet as he could get you — he wanted you dripping for him.

he lapped at your cunt , his plump lips engulfing your clit , your fingers threading his hair, pulling at it as he suck on your bud. “fuck jake im gonna cum.” he smiled against your heat. “go ahead.” he inserted a finger. “cum for me bub.”

he held your legs down as you came , thighs shaking. “fuck baby girl that's it.” he helped you ride out your orgasm. “cum all over my fingers.” he bit his lip , pulling his fingers out. “gonna make you cum on my cock just like that.”

his cock rested on your stomach , pre-cum pooling from the tip. “got so much cum for you pretty.” he groaned as he entered you. “give you as many babies as you wanted.” you gasped as he fully bottomed out. “keep you pretty and swollen for me.” he grunted as he thrusted. “fuck just for me.”

“w-wanna g-get married jakey.” you moaned , he shushed you kissing your lips. “i know baby , of course im gonna marry you sweet girl.” you moaned as he thrusted. “gonna give you the best wedding.” his thrust never letting up. “fuck me , gonna give you everything , you'll never have to work again , just sit home and be my pretty wife.”

he actually talked a good game, you could actually see the future; waiting for jake to walk in the door , child on your hip as you cooked dinner for the three of you , him coming home getting you with a kiss and a rub to your pregnant belly — it was the life you wanted with him. “jake im gonna cum.”

he had your legs folded in half. “fuck , you can cum princess , cum so i can fill you with my cum.” you screamed out , cumming hard around his length. “yeah , fuck baby , fuck im gonna cum.”

he let out a whimper like moan as he came , his cum flooding your insides. “fuck im cumming so much.” he groaned. “gonna fill you up.” he said , his thrust slowing down before coming to a stop. “so full jake.” smiled. “i know pretty girl.” he cooed. “but we aren't done.” he said “gotta give my wife what she wants.”

“gotta make sure your pretty pussy takes my cum , give us a pretty baby.”

©LUVYENI

[worstghost]

teaching bob how to kiss and accidentally slipping into a 20 minute makeout session

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

it was a weird situation that you were in, an impossible one really.

bob had confessed to you that he hadn't really kissed anyone, at least not sober. and he had this insane crush on some mystery girl and couldn't stand the thought of embarrassing himself with his lack of experience, so he never went for it.

and you, being a good friend, who happened to dream about kissing him, offered your services. you weren't a professional by any means, but he didnt need to know that.

once you pushed past his nerves and settled down on his bed, fingers twisting the tassles of his threaded blanket, you looked at him and waited for him to give you the go ahead.

let him take his time, spending it admiring his freshly washed hair and the bright flush across his cheeks. the way his eyes looked anywhere but you and then- he leaned in, squeezing his eyes shut and gripping the blanket tight.

you couldn't help your smile, sliding your fingers closer and intertwining them with his as you met him in the middle.

you were careful, slow, just pressing a gentle kiss against the corner of his mouth.

he let out a shaky slow breath of relief, tilting to the side and making sure the next time you came in it was a real kiss.

his boldness surprised you, but it wasn't unwelcome. you took it as a sign to keep moving, scooting ever so slightly closer and bumping his thigh with your knee.

bob jumped just slightly, pulling away until your noses touched. kissing was more fun than he remembered, not that he remembered much.

you smiled up at him, waiting for him to continue.

"Wow..." he spoke so soft, breath fanning across your cheeks, mint like his toothpaste.

that made you giggle a little, biting your lip to stop it from coming out completely.

"Oh Bob. I haven't shown you anything yet."

he swallowed hard, watching you like he couldn't imagine there was anything better than what just happened.

"Here... do this." reaching for his hand, you brought it up to the side of your face, mimicking the motion yourself and brushing your thumb across his cheek.

he smiled so sweetly at you, your heart leapt. what a beautiful man.

"What?" his blush rose ever higher, hand shaking against your jaw.

did you say that out loud?

you decided to run with it, "You are, Bob. So beautiful. I thought you knew."

it felt like his room was getting infinitely warmer, your clothes too tight. keep going.

before he could respond you brought him down to your lips, it was easy, wherever your hand brought him, he followed.

this kiss was easier, more comfortable, he sighed against you and you could feel the flex of his fingers against your throat.

you held him tight, wanting to see if he'd let you show him more. your lips parted, swiping your tongue against his and he groaned.

bob immediately reciprocated, opening up for you and bringing you closer, letting your tongues meet in the middle. his free hand started wandering, sliding across your knee and settling on your thigh.

the heat radiating off of him was enough to have you panting when you pulled away.

his eyes were so dark, pupils blown, mouth dropped open in shock.

"Can you... show me more?" he was so uncertain, completely unaware of the fact that you were so fucking in love with him, the fact that you could spend the rest of your life like this and never be unsatisfied.

you didnt even respond, threading both of your hands in to his hair and sitting up taller to meet him in the middle this time.

he understood immediately and wrapped his arms around you, practically pulling you in to his lap as you connected again.

this one was messy, constant adjusting and tongues sliding against teeth and you truly wouldn't have it any other way.

bob started leaning back, it just felt natural to pull you with him, until you were straddling his thigh and moaning against his mouth.

god, his heart couldn't take this. he didn't know you'd offer to help like this. he was being hopeful when he talked about his mystery girl, hoping he could sense if you somehow reciprocated.

this was probably the best case scenario right?

even if you rejected him, he at least got this experience.

you pulled away, leaving soft kisses against his swollen lips, shushing him when he started to complain. you were confident he'd love this part, mouthing across his jaw and down his throat, scraping your teeth against his rapid pulse.

you didn't even react when his hands slid down to your ass, grabbing hard like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

the moan he let out was so soft, surprised and breathless and you wanted to hear it again and again and again so you sucked until he had hickeys down to his collar bone.

"Fuck- you're amazing..." he couldn't help the whine to his voice, embarrassed at how easily you've unraveled him.

finally, you sat up to meet his eyes again, panting and trying to get your mind back on track. this definitely went off the rails but god you couldn't have asked for a better way to spend your night. at the very least if you never speak again, you got a chance to make him feel good.

"Mm. Think I've taught you enough to ask her out?" no, you were hoping he'd ask you to stay and keep going.

bob looked shocked, biting his lip as he looked away. "There was no her... it was just you."

your smile was so big it made your cheeks hurt, "God, I was hoping you'd say that."

you didn't give him a chance to respond, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him right back in.

[kurokawaia]

Can i req a boyfriend shoto x reader in which they started dating in their second year but had their first time when they were in their third year? Any scenario situated on this prompt <3 absolutely love your work

FIRST TIME

Todoroki Shoto 彡 Fem!Reader

MDNI 18+ | NSFW | WARNINGS : if you dont like this then scroll or block! shoto todoroki x fem!reader, they are 18 in their third year! 18 y/o shoto, 18 y/o reader, first time sex, nsfw, x fem!reader, smut, piv, fingering, slight overstimulation, shoto being shoto, missionary, praise, lots of fluffy unsure moments, protection, kissing, hickies + more . (total word count 3.2k+) (oneshot smut)

SYNOPSIS :: after being together since the start of your second year at U.A, when the third year rolls around, it just feels right to have both of each other

It happens slowly. It wasn't an immediate switch from the regular soft and gentle stuff the both of you do, it's a slow transition. When the pecks started to become slow, deep kisses, to the point where you're clawing into Shoto's clothes and his fingers are tangled in your hair, his hand tightly wrapped around your waist. After that happens, the air feels heavy until you can't breathe and want more. 

It's a quiet night. Everyone is asleep, it's past curfew, borderline midnight and there Shoto and you are, snuggled up together in your bed after watching a movie together. However, you weren't tired, not one single bit because something feels different. All you could focus on was the absentminded shapes Shoto was tracing onto your stomach.  

The silence isn't uncomfortable, in fact, it's all you could ever want with Shoto, it's never uncomfortable with him. Tonight feels different, not because anything happened but because you can feel it. So bad that there's something. 

Tonight had been different though. Not because anything dramatic happened—but because you both felt it. That quiet awareness building between you, like a fragile thread humming with potential. You could see it in the way his eyes lingered on you, not with urgency, but with a reverence that made your heartache.

"I'm nervous," you confessed in a whisper. 

But why did you even say that? You weren't too sure yourself. What are you nervous about?

Shoto frowns softly, confused, kissing your forehead gently, trying to calm you. "About what?"

You ignore his question and shake your head, a smile grazing your lips, a laugh falling past. "It's okay, I don't know why I said that."

"Alright, but if you anything, please tell me?" he asks and you nod against his neck, snuggling further into his body. 

"I will," you reply, your nerves calming and you feel completely at peace now, holding Shoto close to you, your heart beats in sync. Lifting your head from his shoulder, hesitantly, you ask, "Sho... can I... kiss you?"

He momentarily frowns, fingers comfortably grazing your cheek before you let your face rest in the palm of his hand. "You don't need to ask," Shoto replies quietly, not needing to speak any louder due to how close you already are. 

Slowly, you place a kiss on the corner of his mouth and you don't know what came over you when you moved, pressing further onto his lips. "I... I feel safe with you," you whispered, your cheeks flushing. 

He smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "That's okay. We can take things slow. I just want you to know how much I care about you, how much I love you."

You looked up at him, your eyes shining. "I love you too. I'm just not used to feeling this way, but I want to be with you."

He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. "We'll take it one step at a time," he murmured against your lips. "As long as we're together, that's all that matters."

But the kiss wasn't tender for too long. Shoto had slipped his tongue into your mouth and a gasp fell out of your lips. You gripped his shirt in surprise. Shoto's tongue was entangling with your own and you almost didn't know what to do. It obviously wasn't the first time that the two of you had made out but it still made you nervous under his touch. He was towering over you, his hand entangled in your hair as he tilted your face up and an arm wrapped tightly around your waist.

You felt as if you were going to faint when he was getting into it, more than usual, your heart was beating so fast you thought you were going to pass out. You didn't even know what to do, Shoto was dominating you in such a loving way it made your tummy swell with butterflies and a throbbing fall to your clit.

You were beginning to not be able to intake any breaths and you tense underneath Shoto's touch. You truly were getting more and more flustered by the minute. Leaning into his hold, you tapped quickly on his shoulder and he pulled away from the kiss alarmed, not even realising your flustered and breathless state causing his eyes to widen in worry.

He leaned back slightly to see if you were okay, mentally cursing himself for being too intense with you. Your forehead was leaning on his shoulder while your hands trembled clenching his shirt, flustered and breathless.

"I'm so sorry," Todoroki hastily uttered and in reply, you nodded your head against his shoulder.

"It's okay," you reassured quietly.

What Shoto didn't see was how red your cheeks were and how hot your body felt on the inside, this sensation was absolutely overwhelming and you didn't know what to do.

"Are you-"

You lifted your head up after a few seconds, hoping that you had calmed yourself down but it didn't really work.

"I am!" you replied, interrupting him.

Shoto's eyes widened when he saw the state of you. Your cheeks were flushed in a deep shade of a pinkish red and your hands were trembling on his shoulders. What he felt just then, what he is realising is that he can feel how hot your body is heating up.

You didn't know what this need was so you hesitantly asked Shoto, "could I... kiss you again?" you asked with a quiet voice, looking down, not wanting to meet his gaze in fear he said no.

Oh, how silly you were, you could kiss Shoto whenever you wanted, with or without asking and he would just fall even more in love with you.

His eyes softened, and he leaned down, brushing his lips against mine. "Of course," he whispered against your mouth, his voice filled with warmth and longing.

You hesitantly wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as our lips met once more. This time, the kiss was deeper, more intense. You could feel the electricity between you, a magnetic pull that made it impossible to resist each other.

your hands explored the contours of his back, feeling the strength and warmth of his muscles. Shoto's hands moved with a gentle but insistent touch, tracing the lines of your body, and making you shiver with anticipation.

As our bodies pressed closer, you could feel Shoto's heartbeat against yours, a steady rhythm that matched the intensity of our emotions. You wanted to memorize every sensation, every touch, knowing that this moment signifed the relationship between you both

Shoto's lips left mine, trailing a path of kisses down your neck, making you gasp with pleasure. His hands moved with a tender urgency, exploring the curves of your body with a reverence that made you feel cherished and loved.

You pulled him back up to you, our eyes locking as we paused for a breath. "I love you," You whispered, your voice filled with sincerity.

"I love you too," he replied. "{Y/n}," he asked breathless

His hand gently cupped your cheek, lifting your chin until your eyes met. His touch was reassuring, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding. "Yes?" You asked softly, swallowing a lump in your throat.

"I... I want to take things further," he said.

Your body froze, your mind pausing whatever it was thinking about. "You... can," you whisper, gazing into his eyes, realising that what he wanted to engage with you was sex.

After walking over to the futon, Shoto laid you down carefully, as if you would break and you were a nervous wreck but Shoto soothed that. He was straddling your lower abdomen and you could feel the large bulge in his sweats as he leaned down to kiss you.

Your tongues danced with each other before he pressed a kiss to the side of your lips and then trailed down slowly, the kisses reassuring you that you would be okay. He trailed down your collarbone and chest, making sure to leave soft, faint red marks in its wake. Throughout the entire procedure, you let out panting breaths and strengthened your grip on his body.

Your reactions only send continuous flushes of butterflies to Shoto's dick. The need that he had for you was restless as he tried so hard to contain himself and be as soft with you, he didn't want to hurt you.

"Sho," you said breathlessly and he could've melted right there and then, the way you said his name sounded so much more intimate than how you would sound when it was just a simple make-out session.

He lets out a hum of approval against your skin and tension ripples through your body at the vibrations as he continues leaving the same soft red marks down your jaw and on your neck. Shoto pulled away, giving you a soft kiss. "Can I... take your...." he trailed off slowly and you nodded, knowing what he was referring to, your silk pj's.

"Yes," you replied nervously.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Shoto reassured, placing a kiss on your lips. "I'm not forcing you."

"No! I want to," you replied almost too quickly that an embarrassed flush came to your cheeks.

You tensed when Shoto's hands trailed down to your waist, your body arching slightly into his touch. He hesitantly unbuttoned the rest of the buttons to the top and slid your pants off. You watched his eyes widen at the sight of the fabric slipping to the side of your chest and stomach. "Can I-?"

"You can," you say, cutting him off.

A breathless sigh leaves your mouth when his hot hand trailed up your lower stomach to experimentally squeeze the mounds of flesh. You let out a moan when Shoto's lips began to press and suck gently on the top of your breast. You covered your mouth embarrassed while you looked away from him. "Sorry," you mumbled.

"You sound so pretty," he whispers in your ear, causing your cheeks to heat up. His free hand pulled the hand away from your mouth. He leaned up a bit, pulling you gently with him and slipped the silk off your shoulders, placing the material somewhere near us before he lay you down on the mattress again.

His lips pressed against yours once more while a hand skimmed slowly down your body. you felt the tip of his finger tug only slightly at your underwear and you grasped his wrist, the kiss breaking.

"Do you want to stop? You don't have to do this if you don't want to," he reassures but you shake your head, signalling that I wasn't implying that.

"It's not that, I really want to," you replied breathlessly before an embarrassed flush rose onto your cheeks. "Could you take off your..."

"Huh? Oh, of course," he hummed, his lips pressing the side of your jaw. you watched him slip himself out of sweats, you see the imprint of his dick press painfully against his underwear and you swallowed deeply before he straddled you once you. Shoto did that without any complaint, he must really love you all that much.

Todoroki pressed a reassuring kiss on your jaw before the tips of his fingers pulled the cotton down your legs, the cool air of the room causing chills to tingle down your pale skin. "You're so pretty," Shoto says breathlessly causing butterflies to swirl in your stomach.

His fingers venture further down, tracing a path along your slick slit. The touch is electrifying, causing you to tremble in his hold, your body responding to his every movement. A helpless whimper escapes your lips, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that courses through you.

"So wet," Shoto mumbles before looking back up to you. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," you replied quietly, opening your eyes down to Shoto. "Please, can you... touch me more."

"I'll do whatever you want me do to," he replied and you let a small smile grace your lips.

At your reply, Shoto's fingers experimentally push past v slick folds, his fingers pressing past your clit, and a surge of pleasure courses through you, leaving you breathless and desperate for more. A moan left your mouth as your back arched at his touch. your reaction caused him to press down slightly more and your legs squeezed around his waist, moans stringing out your mouth.

you felt his fingers slide down and he found your seeping hols, drenched with arousal. I felt a finger slowly slide inside your heat, a whimper leaving your mouth. "Does this feel good?" he asked and you nodded frantically.

"So good," you whimpered as he slowly pumped in and out your soaked walls. "Making me feel so good."

"Really?" He asked and you moaned as he inserted another finger into your walls.

"Yeah, so so good," you whimper. "So good for me, Sho."

The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and intensity that leaves you unable to contain your moans. you press your lips against his shoulder, muffling the sounds that escape from deep within you. His fingers explore the depths of your core, igniting a fire that consumes your every thought. Each movement, each curl, sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body.

you surrender to the intoxicating rhythm of his touch, the combination of his skilled fingers and the intensity of our connection pushes you closer to the edge, teetering on the precipice of release. It's a moment of pure bliss, where time stands still, and you are consumed by the overwhelming pleasure that courses through your veins.

As Todoroki's fingers continued their relentless rhythm, pumping in and out of your seeping hole, there was an unfamiliar tightness growing in your lower abdomen, pleasure tightened inside your stomach. you wrap your shaky legs around him, seeking to anchor yourself to him amidst the overwhelming pleasure. your body quivers with anticipation, responding to his every touch, every movement.

you chant his name into his neck as praises leave your mouth, your voice filled with desire and need. The tears welling in your eyes are not from pain but from the overwhelming pleasure that threatens to consume you entirely.

In response to your plea, sucks the skin around your neck once more, groaning against your neck, his voice laced with desire. He begins to press your clit with the pad of his thumb, adding another layer of pleasure to the already intense sensations. The touch is electrifying, causing you to arch your back in response.

"Please, Sho," you sob. "I need to..."

"I've got you," Shoto reassured, intertwining your mouths together, his mouth swallowing the moans that slipped out your mouth.

The pleasure builds, the tension mounting with each passing second until you are on the precipice of release. It's a moment of pure surrender, where pleasure reigns supreme, and you are consumed by the overwhelming ecstasy that engulfs me.

Waves of ecstasy wash over you, leaving your legs trembling and weak from the intensity of the sensations. He slips his fingers from your hole and you continue to tremble from the aftermath of the orgasm. you managed to release yourself from Shoto's neck and move away from his hold.

"How are you feeling?" Shoto asks cupping your cheeks.

"Good," you breathe out slowly while looking into his eyes. "But, I want to make you feel good too."

"You don't need-"

"Please," you beg and you watch him swallow deeply, tension showing on his body.

He asked once more. "Are you sure?"

I nod. "Please."

"Alright," He smiled gently moving off you to get himself out of his underwear and your eyes widened as you saw the size of his length. (yes he is wearing protection, we dont want a highschool pregnancy guys) Shoto moves over you, you place your hands on his chest.

He delicately bites the shell of your ear making you let out a quiet whimper. you could feel him smile against your ear at your reaction. Shoto's touch caused you to dig your nails slightly into his chest leaving light crescent marks causing more deep exhales of breaths to get caught in your ear.

Todoroki moved his head and his body suddenly firmly pressed against mine and you whimpered at the feeling of his dick pressing up against your stomach. His lips mingled with mine his minty taste and smell overflowed your senses making it a complete euphoria for you. you cupped the back of his neck to create a deeper angle for him to explore deeper into your mouth with our tongues continuing to entangle with each other.

He groans into your mouth, the hand that was trailing down your thigh moved swiftly back to your waist and the other intertwined with your hair at the base of your neck, pulling you closer to him. you let out breathy sighs into him as your own hand interlaced with his black and your other wrapped around behind his neck.

His other hand moved its way down to tightly lift your thigh up which made his body mould closer to mine making you feel his dick press up against your soaked core. The kiss slows down and turns soft and almost desperate it's as if he wants to take his time with you, savouring every inch of your taste, to take his sweet time to memorise you.

"You're doing so good," Shoto pants agasint your lips and you didn't have time to reply as he pressed them against you once more. "I'm going to do it now. If it hurts, please tell me, I don't want to hurt you."

"Okay," you reply.

He presses his lips against mine to take your mind off the pain that's probably soon to come. you feel a hard tip get lubricated at your entrance making your back arch into him as you let out a strangled moan of pleasure into his mouth. He continues to push further into you making your eyebrows furrow together in pain but the pleasure is still overwhelming your senses making tears prick at your eyes.

"Oh, you feel so good," Shoto whimpers into your neck. "You're so perfect."

"You feel so good," you moan. The feeling of pure ecstasy of him fully entered you, the pain gone.

you feel his dick scraping across your plush walls in all the right places as he slowly exited your cunt, but not fully. Our moans and whimpers get swallowed by each other. you feel his thrusts speed up and you moan in response, your walls clenching around him causing the grip Shoto held on your thigh and waist to tighten.

The coil in your stomach getting tighter and your moans slightly became higher. Todoroki continued to groan into your neck after he pulled away from the heated kiss.

You say moaning throughout your sentence, "Feels so good-"

"I'm close-," He groans.

"Me too," you choke out.

you felt the coil in your stomach snap as your back arched painfully into Shoto's bare chest causing him to groan and his arms moved to wrap tightly around you. After a few more pumps he came, letting a few more rolls of his hips into you to help ride out both our highs before he pulled out slowly, making sure not to hurt you.

Shoto slumped down beside you before he slipped the condom off his length and walked over to the bathroom with a warm, damp wash cloth to clean you up and after he did so, you did the same.

(lets say they upgrade and get private bathrooms in their 3rd yr)

"I love you so much," you tell him as we lay down together, our legs and arms entangling, bare bodies pressed against each other.

"I love you more," Shoto replies, holding you tighter.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

He comes in droves, hoards of himself, brokenhearted and wanting, wrecking cities for a chance to get one last glance at you. You're different, more than all of them expected. It's saddening for some, boner inducing for others. [Invincible Variants x reader]

 Tw: Suicide, drug use

[Part one] [3] [Ao3] [Chapter Index] [View Full Piece Here - It's mine!]

2 * RX Only [6.7k]

"While my queendom crumbles around me,

I'm fucking stuck here sucking this cock,

I'll kill myself right here on stage,

And it's gonna fucking rock!"

I Win - Go Hang Music

      Blood, guts, and sulfur, but no demons rising from the ground. Just a man in the night, backlit by the burning Sydney Opera House. Watching the blinking dot on his wrist cuff disappear. He holds his breath. Horrified. She was an illusion. A trick of a grief addled brain.

        The screen automatically zooms out, showing a pixelated view of the northern hemisphere of the planet. The dot reappears in North America. Numbers flash in the left corner of his blue tinted vision. When he first saw his alternates, he thought they'd have the same upgrades. Super computers laced into the fabric of their suits. Considering how stupid they were acting and how one of them asked where Mount Rushmore was- they likely didn't.

        He rises, scanning the numbers one last time, burning them to memory before minimizing them. Your coordinates and vitals, both monitored by the cuff. Perfectly healthy, alarmed, scared shitless probably, but healthy. Alive. 

        The breath he held lets go.

        Eyes scan over Sydney one last time. Before he left, he had to ensure his end of the deal was complete. Be absolutely sure Angstrom wouldn't be displeased and send him back to where he'd came from. Sure, he hadn't expected to see (Y/n) here, so soon, he wasn't really done with Sydney. He could level the place if he wanted. Angstrom would approve, but Angstrom's approval didn't matter. All that mattered was bringing you home.          Still, he searches for loose threads. Just in case.         The machinery in his suit quietly whirs. He sees no survivors. Not with the rubble and fire. But his goggles lock onto the outline of forms in neon green, hiding behind a slab of rubble where he couldn't see.          He's there in a blink. Stood at the one and only entrance of the little hovel the family had decided to hide in. Only one of them lives long enough to scream.          There, done. Now he could-         His lenses lock onto another hidden form. Then another and another. He sighs. Head turning to the floating ball beside him. Angstrom's drone making sure he was doing what he was supposed to. Five minutes, he told himself, five minutes to kill all these fucking people and be done with this place. It wasn't like he was going to lose track of (Y/n).         He rose, up, up, up. More and more forms catching in the lens. He pushed a hidden button on the side of his lenses. A tiny segmented timer started in the left corner of his view. Five minutes, on the clock.         ***         "You're fucking kidding me." First the apartment, now CVS Pharmacy.          You stood in the parking lot, breathing in acrid smoke. Looking at the building that was your personal emergency room for the last five years. That mohawked shapeshifting asshole must have rammed right through the place at some point. Bringing the red roof down on most of the building. 

        Physically, you were fine but there was something you desperately needed from under that crumbled roof. Especially since you were now suddenly living through the end of the world.         The automatic glass doors were crushed under concrete but a massive hole, probably where he flew through, was a perfectly fine entrance into the rubble. You stepped carefully over rebar and the body of a cashier. There was no more inside, just parts where the roof didn't cave in all the way, and you were standing in the biggest one. Shelves tipped, chip bags popped open on the carpet floor.          You find yourself meandering into the two upright fractions of aisles in front of you, the store so unrecognizable you felt lost. Caligula laid across your shoulders, over the crook of your neck like a scarf. Gray nose gently twitching at the smell of corpses. There were more in the aisle that was for foot cream. One man bisected by a chunk of roof. One lady who lay stiff, hands still clutching her chest where she'd likely had a heart attack.         You exit the remains of the aisle. Not sure why you’d gone down them in the first place, pharmacy wasn't down there. You were still reeling from the last half hour. Was that all it had been- had everything fallen apart in thirty minutes?           A clatter breaks your reverie, your head shooting towards it.          Crawling out from under a piece of roof was a white coated pharmacy tech. The old-timer full-timer, Wes, you used your powers on almost every time you came in. You didn’t wait for him to stand to use your powers on him.         “I need my usual.”         When he stands, he leans dramatically to one side. The muscles in his side are split, piggy pink insides poking out of his coat. He turns for the wreck that used to be behind the counter, where he’d pass hours by counting pills. Gait short, steps dragging and too slow.         “Ignore the pain.”         With that, he goes upright. Walking confidently over to a fallen shelf, bending, ignoring the slippage of his guts. He goes from paper bag to paper bag, prescription to prescription. None of them have your name on it. Going official would’ve meant asking Machine Head to pull strings and you weren’t in a hurry for more debt. Controlling the pharmacy techs was the only way.         Wes straightens. Walking on uneven ground. Stopping two feet away and holding out a paper bag to you. Prescription for Sandra O'Connell. Probably dead now.

        You frown at the bag. Contents soaked into the brown bottom. Dripping out in clear, thick rivulets. You hadn’t been specific enough. Again with semantics, the pain in your ass. “Find me some that’s intact. As many bottles as you can.”         ***        "No." He's going to vomit. "No." He's going to cry. "No!" He's going to split this planet down the fucking middle, again.         His grip on Isotope's throat tightened. "You're lying." Spit flies off his teeth, onto Isotope's cheeks.          Together, him, Isotope, and Machine Head, hover over the rubble of what was supposed to be your apartment. A dead woman lying on its very top, head like a maraschino cherry.          Machine Head kicked at the air, gargling, "Get us the fuck out of here Isotope!"         One look from Dregs pissed off ex-boyfriend and Isotope knew. If he so much as tried to leave, they'd both be dead. "I'm not." Isotope can barely speak, throat the only thing keeping him upright. Hovering twenty feet above the busted building. "She should be on the third floor."        "What third floor!?"         "The one you fucking knocked down!" Machine Head grappled his arm. Twisting his sleeve, trying to hurt him- him with his weak human hands.         His hand tightened on Machine Head’s neck. Something inside his fleshy human body cracked. The man groaned and shuddered but still fought. “That bitch is dead!”          His head pounded, like a hammer slamming behind his eyes. His fingers are a flex away from breaking both their necks when Isotope says, “I know where else she could be.” He involuntarily shuddered when his assailant's eyes fell on him. Wild as his wind whipped mohawk.         “Spill.” The freak’s grip lightened. Isotope slipped down an inch, latching to the man’s wrist for support like he wanted to be choked.          “She’s some sorta dope fiend. Boys see ‘er at the CVS all the time, picking up the same shit.” Isotope’s words came out in heaves as he caught as much breath as he could. “If she’s alive.” At that word, if, his grip tightens, “Hurk— she’s probably at the pharmacy.” His arm came up, red suit creasing at the shoulder, “Right down the corner. Can’t miss it.”         His grip clenches tight, shutting Isotope up. “If she’s not there, I’m gonna see how high your body bounces when I drop you  ten-thousand feet.” He flew, slower than he’d like, searching for the right building. He knew what a pharmacy was, of course, but this wasn’t his New York. His New York was worse off than this one. Last time he saw it plants were taking over the concrete remains of the city. So he’s slow, only speeding when Isotope coughs and points out another chunk of destruction that looked like everything else in a thirty-mile radius. 

        ***

        T-minus eleven minutes until he arrived. He only had to hold onto Mach twelve for that much longer. Think of (Y/n). Think of holding you. Bringing you home.          The sound barrier cracked, then there was someone beside him. “What the fuck are you doing in my sky?”         Ah. That one. The one that called dibs on the king’s land because at home he was more than a king, better. Clad in his— their— old super suit. Viltrum’s sigil on his shoulders. Shoulder pads thick.         "Answer me.”         How the hell were they the same person? This version of him was so whiny. More insolent than a child. Apparently, his style was gaudy too. Minutes after they first met he went on and on about his outfit. How he was only wearing ‘this old piece of shit’ because he didn’t want to get his emperors clothes filthy. And still— he’d come wearing shoulder pads and metals of valor that were jittering in the wind, just barely holding on. He’d scoffed at the idea of human blood on his fuzzy emperor's cape.          Much as he wanted to, taking on the other version of himself was ill-advised. Sure, they were different but also the same in many ways. He’d know something was up.          His lips peeled apart. Glued by stagnant spit and silence. It felt like reopening a wound. “I’m done. Returning to the rendezvous.” His voice came out robotic. A modulator attached on the inside of his suit's throat.          The people of his world knew of Invincible but it was better no one saw any part of his face, recognized any inflection of his voice. Whatever was left of it anyways.          The other him, Shoulder Pads (there was no way he was calling him Mark), rolled his eyes. “That place better be dirt cuz if I gotta go to that shithole and finish what you couldn’t I’ll—“         “I assure you, the job is done.” Just leave. Go back to torturing people and making weird comments about slaves. Leave me be.         Shoulder Pad’s eyes narrowed to slits behind his goggles. “Don’t lie to me.”         “I don’t lie.” And that was the truth. Partially.         Shoulder Pad’s lips twisted. “Then you won’t mind if I come with you? Be nice to get to know my next commander better.”         Under his mask, his eye twitches. He'd heard this before, one too many times. Shoulder Pads saw him and the others as lesser. Good assets for his empire, sure, but lesser. He didn't plan on joining anyone's empire anytime soon.

        Putting up a fight would be suspicious. Though his throat was already raw with how much he’d spoke, more than he had in months, he said, “You’re finished?”         Shoulder Pads scoffed. “Hours ago. Whole country's ash.” He laughed, though he wasn’t lying. Looking down didn’t provide much of a view. Too much smoke in the way, billowing up from the entire United Kingdom like the thousands of acres were nothing but an overused ashtray. “I’ve been getting bored destroying those things they call islands.”         He nodded. A ‘so be it’ kind of gesture. They flew on. Shoulder Pads filling the not-quite silence— ripping through the air at mock twelve was awfully loud— while he thought over ways to get rid of his companion. Too many what-ifs. 

        What if Shoulder Pads saw you as some human to be killed on the spot, squashed like some kind of bug? What if Shoulder Pads toyed with you, if he tore you limb from limb? Made him relive the same memory in a different universe. Shoulder Pads taking the role of daddy-not-so-dearest.          Worse— what if Shoulder Pads was here for the same thing? A second chance.         ***     One bottle, two bottle, three bottle, four— there was a cute rhyme to tack to the end of that but you didn’t have the energy. Neither did the pharmacy tech, falling stone cold dead soon as he passed you the last bag.      You tear open the first bag, medicine for a Nancy Giovanni. You pull out the dark bottle, rolling it in your hand, making absolute sure the dying tech didn’t fuck up.              Prescription for: PROMETHAZINE VC/CODEINE [SYRUP] - 4 fl oz.              EACH 5ml (TEASPOON) CONTAINS:             CODEINE PHOSHPASE USP ... 10 mg             PROMETHAZINE HYDROCHLORIDE USP … 6.25 mg             PHENYLEPHRINE HYDROCHLORIDE USP … 5 mg             ALCOHOL … 7%             [RX ONLY]         Oh yeah baby, that’s the ticket. Cough syrup. The actually medicated stuff. Totally illegal to buy over the counter. You didn’t know what in it did the trick. The pain killer, the throat soother, cough suppressant, or the drinking so much you got a buzz part— either way, Codeine and Promethazine were a match made in heaven specifically to fix your powers right the fuck up. 

       You twist the cap and end up dropping the rest of the bags. Sighing, you settle to sit, organize before getting down the business. Though the only place was wasn’t covered in debris was…         “Sorry Wes.” You say as you sit on the dead man's back. Something hard pushes into your ass. Shit, right, gun safety. You pull the six-shooter from the back of your sweats and set it by your feet. Not the top of the market stuff Machine Head's guards get, but a solid piece. Got enough of the latest tech to pop a supe's brains out their ass. Small but mighty. ID numbers sanded off, bought off the black market, given to you by your shithead boss. Sometimes things went south. Your mouth covered or earplugs put in. So you took the gun everywhere, just in case.

        You finish popping off the cap, take a breath of the rank air, and throw your head back, brown rim to your lips. There's a joke to be had there, but again, too tired for that shit.

        Caligula hops off your shoulders, annoyed. Tail twitching as he pads away to explore under rubble. Looking for mice like he always had in your apartment. You let him go. The cat was loyal as a dog, he'd be back.

        The syrup comes rolling down your tongue. Bitter, mucus-thick, gag worthy. Nothing you weren't used to. There've been too many times you were run dry and had to chug the slop mid-shootout to keep your head on your shoulders. So you don't breathe and drink, drink, drink until the bottle is a quarter empty.

        You lean forward, elbows on knees. Holding your head as things right themselves. Your throat numbed, blood drying in your nose, head not throbbing, only a light pulse. 

        It was a funny thing really, finding your personal anti-kryptonite. Three years back you were sick as a dog. Of course, you were on duty. When weren't you? You talked a backstabbing rat up to the roof of his apartment building, holding onto him up all the stairs, weak in your sickness. Right before you told him to jump, a coughing fit cut you short. He escaped your hold, pulled a gun on you, almost blasted your brains on the door to the stairwell. Lucky thing Isotope was there, zapping you out of the way. Pushing the dick off himself, and zapping you to this very building. Suggested you fix the problem, whatever it took, because he wouldn't bail you out again.

        He sucked balls but at least wasn't a whole dick. 

        You got a prescription. Drank the allotted amount. The cold cleared. Powers coming back like a tsunami. So strong they demanded to be used. So you drank more than the prescribed amount. Killed the rest of the rats nest of police informants on your own. Almost got killed again. Machine Head was angry you'd gone alone, when not assigned. But you didn't care. You'd found a power-up. Except, because there's always an exception- the boost only lasted as long as you could stay conscious. You’d overdosed more than a few times. 

       You recap the bottle. Consolidating the bottles in the front pocket of your hoodie. Tempted to down the whole thing, scared shitless from earlier, but it was a stupid idea while not being in immediate danger. Unless Wes decided to get up and chew you out for sitting on his dead body- you were safe.

        But not stupid. You pull out your phone, scrolling through your contacts, trying to call contingency one through twenty-seven. Most didn't answer. Dead or unable to come to phone right now, so please leave a message! Some did, orders were given. Help, in case it was needed, was coming. Things like this had a strange way of being nowhere near over once things get quiet.

        Boots come down. Your head lolls over your shoulder. Danger is standing twenty feet back. Holding Machine Head and Isotope by the throats. Isotope pale and passed out. Machine Head weakly clawing at the ground, held down, forced to stay on his knees.

        He stares at you, the not-Mark with the dark, deep-set eyes, sat on your human throne. "That's... hm. Did you do that?"

        There goes saving the syrup. Out comes the partly drunk bottle, off goes the cap, to your lips the bottle goes.

        ***

        What the hell are they doing?

        Two dots on his wrist cuff, side by side. Darting through the projected 3D model of Earth. Heading west fast, over the Northern Atlantic. Making a b-line for another dot. The only one of the three who is where he's supposed to be. 

        "Got'chu now!" A shadow overcasts behind him.

        He presses a button, zooming into the map, not bothering to turn. Had he missed a message from Angstrom? No, not possible. He was the most reliable of all of them, no way Angstrom would cut him out. Certainly, he wasn't stupid enough to think he could.

        A mace whistled through the air, coming to split his skull. His arm slices out in an arc behind him. Barley trying. The sound of his would-be assailant so keening and pathetic he couldn't even take satisfaction in the kill. He pulls his arm free, the body falls. 

        He watches the remains splat onto the last intact chunk of sidewalk left in Seattle. The city was destroyed. The last of the gnats swatted down. He might as well investigate. Double check that he wasn't being double crossed.

        ***

        "Wow, oh wow, you like that." He laughed as the last of the syrup disappeared behind your lips. The bottle is thrown to the debris, to be forgotten. His voice is cloying and saccharine, and way too familiar, "Was that good?"

        Bitterness coats your tongue. Chemical smell stinging in your nose. Head swimming but feather light. "No." You say. The syrup leaden in your stomach. Throat numb but soon to burn with vomit. You didn't have much time to dispose of this freak. "But-"

        "Dregs! Jesus Christ, Dregs get him the fuck off me!" Machine Head kicked at the ground. Mohawk, you'd dubbed him, because no fucking way were you calling a shapeshifter the name it wanted you to call it. Name aside, he wasn’t about to let Machine Head go, or even let him touch the ground. His dignity just a few short inches away as he gagged and kicked. 

        "You seriously work for this guy?" Mohawk says. "So weak." His thumb barely flexes and all the air is cut from your boss's throat, the kicks becoming frantic. 

        You know the shapeshifter is trying to get to you but it gets deep, deep under your skin. You're on your feet, swaying. "Tell me who you really are."

        He laughs but the words are pulled out of him anyway. "Mark Grayson."

        Your teeth grind. He's not lying. Maybe not a shapeshifter. Maybe a hidden supe. Someone projecting hallucinations onto you, to make you go batshit and somehow kill yourself.

        "Tell me if you're real."

        "As you are, baby."

        "Dregs!" Machine Head screeches the second his thumb relaxes. "Dregs, if you don't get him off me, I'm docking your pay!"

        Mohawk's lip twitches, hand flexing. Shit. "Don't kill him." His hand relaxes. Though his eyes aren't as glazed as you'd like. He's still resistant but you've got the upper hand as long as your stomach holds. 

        "Yes! Yes, now get him to let go!"

        The command makes your stomach roil. Probably just the excessive drugs but still, you don't like the motherfucker. He can wait. "Why are you doing this?"

        "Made a deal. Break enough shit and I get a prize." Under control, people are emotionless, no use of unnecessary words or turn of phrase. But there he was, talking like a seventh grader.

        "Which is?"

        "You," you roll out of the way before they touch down. Feet first and much harder than necessary, sending dangerous bullets of rock spraying every which way. You're fine. Clothes dusty whereas Wes's corpse is more cut up than before. Sorry, guy.

        If one had been too much, enough to think he was a hallucination, then three was enough to make you consider committing yourself to a ward.         

        You'd seen one of the newcomers back in Sydney. The other beside him, eyeing you up and down like an antique at auction, was new. You'd forgotten about the cuff on your ankle. You were no techie, but logic and superheroes meant it was a tracker, hell, maybe hand (ankle?) cuffs if activated by something.

        "Oh what the fuck!" The mohawked one spoke for you, "I called New York. Find somewhere else to flatten."

        "Is this what you were in a such a hurry to finish for?" The newcomer with his stupid shoulder pads kicked a wall to pieces, looking to his companion. 

        The full-masked one stood still as a statue, quiet as a phantom. 

        "Course not," Shoulder Pads answered himself, "You came for that," his finger pointed accusingly toward the mohawked one, "isn't that right? He bruised your ego when you first met pretty bad, huh?"

        An insult from a version of himself who thought mohawks were peak fashion meant nothing. Sure, he'd called his mask creepy, but he didn't hold enough of a grudge to want to kill the guy over it. He did, however, not like how close he was to (Y/n). Twenty feet was nothing when one moved as fast as they did.

        "Who are you?"

        "Mark Grayson." The two newcomers answered together. One similar to the voice you knew, if a little nasaler. The other like that Guardian's dickhead, Robot.

       You dip down, swiping your gun off the ground. Careful not to move too quickly and let the bottles fall out of your pocket. "Why are there three of you?"

        "There's actually eighteen," Mohawk answers. "Dickheads all of 'em."

        "To expand my empire." Shoulder Pads says, more responsive to your control.

        "To destroy so much, it ruins the life of this dimension's Mark Grayson." The Phantom answers, voice and actually helpful honesty, sending a shiver down your back. 

        "Dregs-!"

        "Shut the fuck up." Your attention on Machine Head is nothing but murderous. As the situation unfolds, you find yourself realizing, for one, Machine Head is most definitely going to die. Villains of the week are stupid, sure, but they also take no prisoners. You’d say Machine Head had less than five minutes' life left on him. 

        For two, the world was pretty much fucked. Which means- weakness, instability and power up for grabs for Mister Liu to reclaim as his. You could be by his side, his left hand as he already had a right. No more debt, no more humiliation at Machine Head's hands. Because there was no way you were going straight, not after everything. But, you could climb the ladder in the dust of the world and climb it high- as you were right now.

        High enough to push Mister Liu off the ledge. High enough to never have to take orders from anyone ever again. Be your own boss. Maybe Machine Head had less than five minutes. 

        Even better, you could relocate out of the city (which you'd have to do anyway, I mean, look at this place). Somewhere you'd see Mark so little the lingering pain in your heart would maybe start to heal. The thought of killing him had crossed your mind. You placed heavy piles of blame on him for how your life turned out. Still, you ached and yearned for a teenage romance that'd never rekindle. You couldn't kill him, yet, not without crawling into Mister Liu's skin and wearing his shoes awhile. Surely you'd grow into them, give the order for someone to kill your ex without batting an eye- one day. 

        Your Mark wasn't on the official kill list yet, but these cheap imitations? These dimensional clones or whatever the fuck? Oh yeah baby, they've gotta die.

        ***

      He didn't bother telling his tails to leave. They were all lesser, but still, him. They were good at what they did, destroying things. 

        "Can you believe that guy tried to trap me in the- what was it- the shadow realm?" The blue and yellow clad gnat yammered beside him. The variant, slightly different from the others without his lenses, blasted up from the Guardian's HQ when he'd flown by. Asking all sorts of questions that were left unanswered and more importantly, unacknowledged. Maybe if he was ignored long enough, he'd go away. "Do'ya wanna know how I got out after I killed 'im?"

        No response.

        He went on anyway. "So like, after I ripped his heart out his chest the whole shadow realm started falling apart. I was like 'oh shit, I'm gonna die' so I gabbed the guys body and was like 'lemme out'. Shakin' him n' stuff. I dunno what happened, if there was a lil life left in him or what but I think I kickstarted something in him, cuz after eight or nine shakes I was back! Man, I almost forgot how crazy I killed those Guardian guys!"

        The other gnat, blue and black and imperceptibly different from this dimension's Mark Grayson, flew up to his other side. "You gonna show me that map or what?"

        He did not answer, for they had arrived. Three dots now five, six counting himself. All around the unimportant gray mass of some Earth dwellers' hovel. He stayed above because he was literally above touching down on Earth’s soil. His mother had been from this mud ball but she'd been elevated above the rest of this dirt-loving species by his father when he brought her back to Viltrum, swollen with pregnancy. 

        The others truly were lesser than he, for they shot down. Too impatient, too stupid to know what it is to observe from afar. They did all have enhanced hearing, did they not?

        ***

        Shoulder Pads shook his head, throwing the control off his brain like a wet dog. "The hell was that?" His head stopped, hair swept across his masked forehead. "How dare you- you-" His head kicked back a degree like he'd been sucker punched. It took him a minute, with the dirt and the outfit and the daring to wave around a gun. He recognised you now. Felt the pain searing hot in his chest. "Leave," he commanded, "All of you but," he turned back to, "you, stay."

        Nobody moved to obey. 

        "I said-"

        They came down from the sky like falling angels. 

         "The hell's this?" You watched him land. Watched him roll his shoulders. Mark, your Mark. Exactly the same. But what the fuck was he doing with this lot? "Where's Angstrom?" 

        "Not here, duh." The other newcomer says, bouncing on his heels. "Are we gonna turn on each other and fight to the death now? I really hope we turn on each other and fight to the death now." His eyes, lighter brown than you remember, slide from Mark to Mark to Wes to you. "A prize fight! Even better."

        You didn't like that word- prize. How he looked at you. Not as a person but as a street dog to collar. 

        Machine Head's toes displaced rubble. His captor's mohawk stood on end, as if electrified, "Get the fuck out of here." He says, "New York's mine. 'S not the meeting place for when we're done anyway."

        The stuck-up one, Shoulder Pads, moved toward you. Ankles breaking rubble as he went, too graceful to do something awkward like stepping over an obstacle. Why do that when you could just break it? 

        "Leave us now." He doesn't seem bothered by the fact that you raised the six-shooter, aimed straight for his throat. "And I'll consider letting the rest of you serve under me."

        He was there in a flash. Arm outstretched in front of his boy king other self, stopping him in his tracks- the phantom. Shoulder Pads stopped, ten feet shy from your person. You don't know what to say because as soon as you really get going, a fight is going to break. You won't survive. You've seen what Mark can do on the news. You don't doubt they can punch holes in you before you say stop. They're not far away like Mohawk had been. They're instant murder close. You have to be careful.

        "Don't get in my way." Shoulder Pads sneered to no reply.

        The lensless newbie jutted his thumb toward you, "Gonna go out on a limb 'n guess she's also your guy's dead girlfriend?"

        The word girlfriend hits you like a sack of rocks. When hit, hit back. You breathe in.

        "Dregs!" His voice is nails on a chalkboard, screeching, loud, and desperate. "God damn it! Help me!" Your hold on Machine Head had waned. He was back to whining. 

        Your hold on his captor had waned as well, telling by his eyes. But he didn't break Machine Head's neck. Instead, he watched, curious, a smile tugged the edge of his lip. 

        Tension rolled off Phantom and Emperor Shoulder Pads in waves. Lenseless’s knuckles popped, expecting violence with glee. The white clad warrior watched on from above. And your stupid ex-boyfriend just watched you, sneer on his lip like you were the problem. Like he wasn't covered in blood the fucking hypocrite. "I don't kill," my ass. He acted like he was better than you. 

        "I'll promote you! Right above Isotope." Who was passed out and couldn't be bothered by the betrayal. "We can run this city together. I can get you as much lean as you want! Fuck- I'll put you through rehab if you want!" 

        A bubble rolled up your throat. Not much longer now before you puke out power. You swallow down the burp. Anger a beat in your throat. "I'm not an addict."

        "Sure!" Machine Head laughed, "Sure! Whatever you say, just help me!" Isotope's eyes peeled open. He groaned, barely there.  Machine Head noticed, reaching out to shake the man's knee. "Get me out of here!"

        Your Mark clicked his tongue. "I can't say I'm surprised you haven't changed."

        "Isotope! Hey! Wake up!"

        "I used to think you'd be better than," Mark gestures to your boss, to your clothes, to the dilation of your eyes, embarrassingly aware of your high, "this." He sighed, "But I guess the more things change, the more they stay the same or however that shitty song goes. So much potential wasted. (Y/n), Seriously, this is pathetic."

        "Dregs, get Isotope up! Get us all out of here!"

        Mark smirked, "Name suits you."

        Your earlier machinations crumbled. Fuck waiting, maturing. People were going to die here, in this destroyed pharmacy, so why not start with him? 

        "Hey Mark?" 

        "Yeah?" It's a shame the others don't reply to the name. Too smart, too aware that if they were locked in conversation and attention, they'd be dead. 

        "Kill yourself."

        One hand to the chin, the other to the shoulder for support, like the first time you tried this trick on his doppelganger. The snap is quick. So powerful it twists his whole body backward, spine ripping out his back. He drops, blood dribbling out his mouth. 

        A weight lifts off your shoulders. You thought this would be harder. It's sad, sure, first love dead, very Romeo and Juliet, but you're still alive. You wish you could've made him see more, get a more torturous revenge. Or in a perfect world, one you didn't admit but dreamed of anyway, got him to see your side of things. 

        But you're so happy to see nothing behind his eyes. Dead while you're alive. The laugh forces out of you in a bark. It brings tears to your eyes, doubles you over. 

        The mood shifts. Tension sizzles away between the Marks. There were expectations, different for each, but this? Certainly was not one. 

        "Did you just-?" Lensless was at the corpse's side in a blink, poking at his twisted neck. "Oh, he's super mega dead." 

        "If he was weak willed enough to listen to the whims of a human he should've already been." Emperor Shoulder Pads says. "Better we weed out the weak before going back to my empire."

        "Shit, I was gonna kill Seventeen," Mohawk said. "Beat me to it, babe."

      "Seventeen?" You question between laughs.

        "Uh, yeah? Mark Seventeen. Demsion three-four-five, like neighbors with this one."

        "So he's not mine?"        

        "Yours? Baby, I'm yours- but that guy? Not from here."

        Oh? OH! He wasn't yours. Another variant, just awfully close in appearance. Something like relief pools in your stomach, or it's just the promethazine-codeine solution getting ready to come spewing out. 

        The Phantom keeps his hands at his sides, though they want to go to his head, press into his temples until the pain stopped. You weren’t like this. You weren’t supposed to be like this. Nothing like him. Maybe Shoulder Pads was right. Maybe Seventeen was weak willed, loved you so much he'd do anything you said. You couldn't be a killer. It just wasn't possible- wasn't right.

        "Isotope," he was starting to really regain consciousness, head lolling in Mohawk's hand, "Isotope, let's go!"

        He was going to leave you. Words of promise meant nothing obviously, you weren't born yesterday but the insult of it was the last fucking straw. 

        Right as power started to glow weakly from his palms, you say, "Look at me, Isotope."

        He does, slackjawed, droll rolling down his lip. Hands still glowing.

        Here's the thing about word and meaning induced mind control. Sometimes actions, gestures, are good as words, and as long as you've got your claws in their brain, as long as they're looking at you and understand- a gesture is enough to control.

        You lower the gun. As if it'd do anything against Shoulder Pads. One hand slipping off its metal grip, coming to the side of your head right above your ear. Rule number one of gun safety: Never put a gun to your head. So your bare hand comes up to do the job. Pinky and ring curling into your palm. Pointer and middle pressed to your scalp, thumb hanging down like the trigger. 

        Isotope's hand goes to the holster on his belt. Freeing the pistol, pressing it to the green side of his head, clicking off the safety. Waiting for the last order.

        "Dregs! Don't you fucking dare!" Machine Head trashes but his kicks do nothing to Mohawk's balance.

        The Mark’s watch, hypnotized like snakes to a charmer. 

        Your thumb twitches, miming the pull of a trigger.

        The bullet goes from one side of Isotope's skull to the other. Stopped by the side of Mohawk's knee, who doesn't even flinch at the lead cracking uselessly against his suit. Pale pink brains splatter his boots and shin guards. Chunks stick to Machine Head's dented metal face. Gravity slowly rolled them down, leaving trails of blood and cerebral spinal fluid in their wake.

        The dead weight is so unexpected in his hand, Mohawk is slow to drop the body. Killing another version of him was fair game. They were threatening your planet after all. But an ally? Very un-hero like.

        "You murderous yuppie cunt!" Machine Head's hand flies to his own holster. 

        "Don't talk to me like that, boss." He goes still, gun in hand. Your hand goes to the center of your forehead and so does his. Another twitch of the thumb sends a bullet and shrapnel backward. 

        Machine Head slumps, gun dropping, body twitching. Not dead yet.

        "Access the control panel." You say.

        His hand shakes violently as it comes to the side of his head. Pressing a button that makes the front half of his busted forehead come forward. Revealing the computer gore inside his head. 

        "Remove the leftmost microchip." You'd seen him getting maintenance too many times not to know that the chip contained his very consciousness. He'd yelled at so many paid-off Best Buy employees not to touch it. Threatened their families over it, but here he was, pressing its back so it'd come popping out. Soon as it does, his whole body goes slack.

        Killing what you thought was Mark yielded mixed feelings. But Machine Head and his lackey? That was pure cocaine right there baby. You felt like you could climb Everest. Like you really could overtake Mister Liu. 

        "Holy shit." Lensless let his jaw hang. "Powers, babe!? 'S awesome! Do it again!" His fingerless glove pointed to Shoulder Pads, "That guy! That guy next! Oh, wait, try it on me!" He doubted it'd work. He was way stronger than that pussy bitch Seventeen.

        Mohawk pulled Machine Head's slack body high above his head, inspecting. He was dead alright. So dead his bladder released and stained his gray slacks dark. He let the body drop. "You're pret-tee different here, huh babe?"

        Another bubble rises up your throat. 

        "What-" Shoulder Pads started, "What the fuck is wrong with this one?" He was expecting something else. Docile. Sitting at his feet like a good pup. At his beck and call. Especially not powered or alien or experimented or whatever the fuck you were. Clearly, you weren't normal.

        Phantom had nothing to say, as usual. Too busy fighting back the tears burning the back of his eyes. What has this world done to you? What had made you so callous? What had made you a killer? Whatever it was needed to burn. This monster in you, it could be culled; he could have the you he knew back. He could have it later, but for now, he fought grief.

        In the sky, the white clad warrior lets contentment simmer in his chest. Different, sure, but good different. Nothing like that human he brought to Viltrum to breed. A kicking, screaming crybaby who had no idea how lucky she was. Part of the shreds of resistance left, left alive by him of all people. Nothing like the doting creature his mother was to his father. Relationships like the ones on Earth weren't a thing on Viltrum. His parents were considered strange, but a strange he liked- though he wouldn’t admit it to a living soul.  

        So disappointing and ungrateful, a waste of time, of resources, he was sour about when he had to kill you. But not here, not this you.       

        Shadows whipped through the sky hundreds of feet below him. Some came hopping and bounding through the broken street. The few defenders left, not dead due to their own cowardice. 

        Contingency Six, Twelve, Nineteen, Twenty-two, and Twenty-eight surrounded you in a defensive circle, showing up at just the right time. Machine Head promised security but he wasn't omnipotent, despite his upgrades. You didn't trust him far as you could throw him either. So you had heroes, fellow crooks, and dregs of society on speed dail. Hypnotized at some point in the past with the same little speech.

        "See this number right here? Remember it. When you see me calling, you answer, no matter what. I don't care if you're mid-fuck, you'll do as I say. After I snap my fingers, you'll forget we ever had this conversation but a part of you will. And you will never have your phone on silent."

        You'd have to reset them anytime you called them in to save your ass from one thing or another. It was always worth the time if it meant you got to live and the other guy died.

        Thank God for hindsight. Wait, no, not hindsight, was it foresight? Ah, whatever, you'll remember the right word later when you're not high on power and codeine. 

        Flesh drones wait for orders. The Mark's wait for someone to make a move. You don't speak, not yet, letting your eyes scan over them all. Thinking of killing them too, how good it'd feel to kill your (kind of) ex-boyfriend over and over. Thinking of the ones not here, the ones you'd seen, the ones you hadn't. You could find them, kill them after. Maybe then you'd be ready for the real thing. No more mixed feelings. 

        Blood slowly rolls down your nostril. Darkly covering the dried streak from minutes ago. Your stomach rages. Throat constricting as it readies to puke. It hurts so bad, but you can't help but grin. Thinking aloud, "This is going to be the best day of my fucking life."

        Orders shoot out your lip. He should prepare for battle, but he couldn't help but be still, staring at you and the malice radiating off you. Lensless tugs on the hem of his mask, swallowing thickly, "Can you hold up a sec with the battle plans? I've got a crazy boner."

[crsssie]

a pathological people pleaser

word count: 4.4k

warnings: smut || pt 2 to and i wouldn't marry me either

summary: Jinshi's getting desperate to bed you.

夏

Jinshi contemplates what kind of a ring to get you. He really does. He looks through the designs that had been initially made for your marriage, but he finds inspiration in none of them. You would suit a ring that's crafted with only the finest of materials, not a ring that was just bought from the streets. Though, you had been going out with Maomao more often with some guards to have fun and buy food. At some point, the palace chefs are going to need to learn how to make a roujiamo that tastes like the ones on the street and not the fancy food that you had grown used to having.

He calls Maomao and Gaoshun for help picking a ring, but ultimately neither of them come up with something that would suit you. (He even asks his mother, but she is no help either.)

So, he rots in the confinement of your shared office, head spinning as he sketches more and more ring designs. The one of the current empress is nice, but it is not something of your style. The one that his mother had received was pretty as well, but not something that he desired to put on you. Perhaps a simple jade ring of your size would do better, but it seemed too plain compared to the kind of treatment he was supposed to give you. A simple jade ring would be fitting for him, but not necessarily for you. He would give you gold, but he wasn't quite sure what kind of a ring design would fit you.

He's gonna age from this, he swears.

Yet, he continues sketching at it between his paperwork, frowning at how big of a demand there are for eunuchs. The lower ranking concubines were still desperate, he finds. Perhaps especially with the announcement of his marriage... not announcement. He was married, but with the revealing of his marriage, it seems some concubines are getting desperate for some sexual release. Jinshi... really is no better than they are. He finds that he can't sit still around you these days.

He's... desperate. Yeah. Desperate is the right word.

"Rotting in here again?"

"You know, I'm starting to think you're actually Diu from your actions." Jinshi grumbles from his desk, shoving the paper with the ring designs to the side, catching your eye.

"To be fair, I am him, and he is me." You pick up the paper, tilting your head at the ring designs. "Designing rings for me? How sweet of you. Why not just use one from the treasury?"

"You deserve a new one." He groans. "I wanted to design one for you."

"Why not just gold?" You hum. "And then thread a pearl and jade orb through them."

"A jade ring would be nice." Jinshi hums, staring up at the pin in your hair. "To match your pin."

"Whatever you design." You hum. "I'm sure I will be satisfied."

"It has to be perfect." He mopes. "Or else I will not forgive myself."

"That's rather harsh on yourself." You hum, reaching for his brush as you sketch a design. "I liked the ring presented to the empress."

"The blue gem?"

You tap your chin. "Though, the gold isn't my favorite combination." You finish your sketch, noting down the color scheme, and Jinshi blinks at the choice.

"You just want a plain jade ring?"

"For the wedding ring." You blink. "The westerners are quite intriguing with the tales they tell. The women there boast many rings."

"You went to the west?"

You shrug. "A season is plenty of time to explore."

"She went to a port city." Maomao speaks up from the door. "Gaoshun is asking for the report."

"I sent it to him already?" You raise a brow.

"The one regarding the ceremony in the winter."

"Ah." Jinshi's fingers slide down the stack, pulling out a booklet between all of it. "Here."

Maomao nods, pausing as she catches wind of the ring design. "How about a ring with the royal family's seal?"

"I'm not becoming crown prince." Jinshi grimaces.

"I am sure the emperor would allow it regardless."

"I don't want a ring like that." You pause. "though, it would be quite a statement to wear it on the pinky."

"You want a divorce?!" Jinshi cries, heartbroken as Maomao leaves the room with the report.

"No." You shrug. "I might if you keep putting off the concubines' requests."

Jinshi jumps in his skin as he goes back to the papers, and you glance at the ring you've drawn.

"Carve a jade ring with a phoenix for our wedding ring. I do not desire gold." You hum. "And you are to have a dragon on yours."

Jinshi looks up at you, eyes gentle as he drinks in your figure under the setting sun, summer wind rustling the leaves outside, heat not too much to handle either. There is something delicate and breathless about you to him. You are worth so much, yet he had to spend such little time compared to the age of the universe to prove that you are his only one. Time is suck a fickle thing when it came to the clouds and sky. He supposes that's more a reason to treat you well and make up for time lost.

"Is that all you want?"

"What else would I want?"

"How about a jade pendant?"

"With the royal family's seal carved into it?"

Jinshi laughs. "Why not my last name?"

"Sure, pretty prince."

Jinshi flushes.

秋

You have tea with Ah-Duo a lot during fall. The weather cools bit by bit, and you sit in your yard, peeling the sugarcane as she looks through the files, humming at your writing, each stroke nice and clean. She puts the papers down, a maid rushing over to take them to your study, and she glances at the sickle and cane in your hand. It seems you have found new talents outside of the palace walls. It fills her with a sense of warmth, almost.

"How do you feel about the new eunuchs?" She hums.

"Some of them are rather attractive." You hum, not paying much mind as you cut off a piece for the lady.

"Is that so? Yue would have a heart attack if he heard you say that." She takes the piece, popping it in her mouth as she chews, humming. "It's sweet. I like it."

"That's good." You laugh. "I had the chefs just hand me whichever one." You continue to hack at the crop with the sickle. "Jinshi would be fine."

"I doubt it." She hums, spitting out the dry cane into the bowl prepared beforehand by the maids. "He is rather protective when it comes to things he desires... you included."

"It is only recently that he has become protective over me." You hum, putting a piece into your own mouth as you chew. She was right. It is sweet. "Which is also why he refuses to become the imperial prince."

"You would make a great empress."

"I would." You chuckle. "I have been raise for the role, after all."

"Though, this is better." She smiles. "You are happier like this."

"Oh, well as empress, I suppose I would not do too much. Jinshi, though? That poor man."

"He would have quite the work set out for him." She hums. "Though, you would be there to support him."

"I suppose." You hum. "It would be better had you been ascended to the position of empress."

"What is done is done." She hums. "I find it more amusing that your talk with the emperor of letting me visit worked."

You snort. "I saw the chance and took it. It would be a shame to not host you at least once in a house that is now warm."

"I suppose so." She smiles. "Does it not hurt to cut the sugarcane yourself?"

"It does not." You hum. "My hands are stained with sugar, and I work up a good sweat. I find it fun."

"Fun?"

You snap the plant in half, handing the peeled half to Ah-Duo as you continue with the unpeeled half.

She bites it, humming. "It is good. Is there a reason to cut it? I no longer remember."

"It's so you can get the most of it." You offer her one of the knives on the table. "Be careful not to cut yourself."

"I will." She nods. "Have you learned anything else?"

"A foreigner showed me how to peel a pomegranate." You pause. "Oh, and I have developed a strange talent for peeling oranges. It is incredible how clean it can peel with the right tools."

She nods, popping a piece into her mouth.

"How are the children?" You tilt your head, cutting another piece to put in the central bowl.

"They are faring well." She hums. "They are children, after all."

"I suppose." You mumble. "Jinshi went a little insane on their family."

"Not to mention he had full right, holding the army seal." She chuckles. "I heard from the maids that the imperial court threw a fit upon the realization that you had been holding onto something so precious and had just casually given it to Jinshi in order to save a maid."

"Not just any maid at the time." You snort. "Jinshi's dear maid."

"Of course." She smiles. "Though, he had been in love you. He had simply pushed it down."

"Like father like son, I suppose." You mumble. "Has the emperor visited?"

"Not yet." She pauses. "Is he planning so?"

You turn your head at the sound of footsteps.

"Jinshi." You hum, smiling.

He steps over to press his lips to your forehead, smiling fondly at your juice-stained hands, only freezing when he remembers his mother is with you. "...niang."

Ah-Duo waives her hand. "How cute."

Jinshi flushes, and you chuckle, pinching his cheek.

"You needed something?"

"The emperor is coming for a visit, niang." He pauses. "To our residence. He will be visiting the tearoom."

You raise a brow at Jinshi.

Jinshi shakes his head at you.

"Very well." You grin, shaking Jinshi off of you as you peel the sugarcane with eerie accuracy, cutting the rest into bits for the late consort to enjoy. "You can take the bowl."

"None for me?" Jinshi pouts.

"The emperor matters more in this case." You shrug. "I shall send some maids to accompany you."

"Alone will be fine." Ah-Duo nods. "Thank you."

You smile as she leaves, and Jinshi takes her spot, pouting at the sugarcane she had left behind.

"I want a bite."

You take the plant from him, cutting pieces off for him, watching as he chews, reaching for his throat as he threatens to swallow. This fucking dumbass.

You pry his jaw open, ignoring the fact that your hands probably taste like some sort of sugar, ordering him to spit it out. He listens, dry cane spat into the bowl you've held before his mouth, and his spit slides down with hit, the poor male panting like some bitch in heat. You let go of his mouth, exhaling as you mumble. "Good boy."

The words ring in Jinshi's head and shoot straight to his dick, and he licks your fingers unconsciously, eyes half-lidded as he tastes the sugar on them. Wait.

fuck.

He was NOT supposed to do that.

You freeze as something brushes your knee, and you stare into Jinshi's eyes as he stares back up at you, blinking rapidly, praying you wouldn't point it out. The two of you meet eyes, and you back up, sitting back down as the two of you wait for the other to speak up. Jinshi refuses to speak up.

You break the silence. "I'll wait."

"Thank you." He mumbles, cheeks red in embarrassment as he rushes off to somewhere private.

This is awful.

冬

some days you wonder how long Jinshi went without sexual release.

It's a strange thought, really. So, when you and Jinshi are wedded and you're waiting for him on the wedding night in your shared bed, you don't know what to think. Alright, wedded is the wrong word. The two of you are rewedded, and you are dressed in the robes the late empress had prepared for the two of you to sleep together in. You think it's too little, but apparently it's supposed to rile Jinshi up. Speaking of Jinshi, you wonder how he's dealt with getting boners. He... can't sleep with someone because he's a eunuch, but he can't just leave himself hard forever.

Jinshi stares at you from the door as you're lost in thought.

Skin. You're showing skin. He feels rabid at the sight— as though he were some carnivore in the wild, grew before his eyes. He feels as though he would go feral if he were to get his hands on you, so he stands there, collecting himself. He can't scare you off. He finally has you in his hands again, this time treating you properly, and he can't just scare you off because he's wanted to touch you for ages but couldn't.

"Jinshi?" You tilt your head at him, and he musters up a smile.

"I don't want to scare you." He pauses. "But I fear the maids did a little too good of a job with you."

He offers you a drink, and the two of you down it before you lick your lips to speak up.

"Why? You want to defile me?" You lean forward, almost as if to emphasize your point, and Jinshi flushes red.

"I really wonder how you learned to flirt like that when you were Diu." Jinshi sits next to you, fingers pushing your hair back as he leans in. "This is fine, right?"

"Would be funnier if I were Diu right n-" You're cut off as Jinshi presses his lips to have you shut up. He loves you, but god, were you infuriating sometimes. It was as though the winter and spring without him had changed you into a different person— not that he minded. You're charming no matter how you act or react. Your hair scrunches between his palm and fingers, and you tilt your head to give him better access, passion and longing staining your face as he presses his lips to yours and his fingers bloody with something he's wanted forever. Some sort of twisted passion beats from his chest to yours, a whimper spilling past his lips as you thread your fingers through his hair.

He only pulls away when you soften against him, chest pressed to his as he feels your muscles tensing from the lack of breath.

"You still with me?" He moves his hand out, your hair slipping between his fingers as you hang your head to breathe.

"I sure wish you weren't good at everything you did," You keep your head hung, unraveling his robes with ease, palming his cock through the fabric wrapped around his waist. Jinshi's hips shift slightly for more friction, and your hand presses down on his hipbone, forcing him to still as you pull on the strand to free him, licking your lips at his length. "I don't think you're going to fit, pretty boy."

"We'll make it fit." He hisses out as you let the spit on your tongue roll onto the tip of his cock, smearing the precum with your saliva, your fingers smooth against his length as you spread it. Jinshi whimpers as you do, the ring around your finger cool against his skin, and you lean in to stare up at him through your lashes, biting your bottom lip as your hand speeds up. Jinshi whimpers, hand flying to wrap around your wrist and hold you still, and you tilt your head, yelping as he takes your lips pushing you back into the mattress. You lean into the kiss as he tugs on the bow, string coming out and top falling off with ease as his fingers brush your tits, thumb pressed to your nipple, humming into your mouth at the feeling of it hard. "Let me take care of you tonight." He huffs, pulling from you as he forces your tits up with his hands, pinching your nipple to catch a wince from you.

"Mean." You pout, no real annoyance on your face, and Jinshi busies himself with your chest, lips pressing a kiss to the meat of your chest, biting down— almost as though to mark you as his territory. It irks him some days that the maids still have lingering crushes on you from when you were Diu. So, his bites trail up from your chest to your neck, canines crazing over your pulse point as he bites down, hands sliding down to hold your waist as you crane your neck and whimper. Jinshi leans to force his chest to yours, and your fingers curl uncomfortably next to you as he sucks on your neck, purple blooming across your skin wherever his lips were.

"You're so pretty." Jinshi mumbles, finally pulling his lips off of you with a pop, staring down at you as you're suddenly aware that you are bare. You try to hide yourself but Jinshi makes work of his hands swiftly, holding your wrists together as he rolls his hips against yours experimentally. "I wonder how much of my reading is going to pay off."

"Studying through indecent literature? How sinful of you." You arch your back as he pulls your undergarments off, spreading your legs slightly as he slides his index finger down your slit, taking note of the slick threatening to spill out.

"I'd say this is worse, though." He slides a finger into you with ease, and you whimper as he curls it, nails slightly grazing your walls, making you gasp. "You sound so sinful like this. I sure hope you didn't let any other man see you like this."

"And if I did?"

"Then I'd suppose I'd just have to ruin their life." Jinshi straightens his middle finger as he curls his index out of you, sliding both into you at once. You shift slightly at the stretch. Jinshi curses under his breath at how tight you are. He doesn't want to break you your first night. So, he spreads his fingers in you slightly, thumb on your clit as he tries to loosen you. Instead, you flutter around him, only a light gasp freeing from your lips as he furrows his brows. He spreads his fingers, trying to make space for a third and get a reaction out of you. Instead, you don't react, simply shifting your hips to accommodate the stretch from his fingers.

"Am I bad?" He pouts, thumb finding your clit.

"No." You breathe, squirming from his touch.

"Am I average?"

"Jinshi, I have no idea. This is as much of my first time as it is yours." Your wrists fight against the grip of his hand, and he lets them go, lowering his face to your pussy instead, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he pulls you up. You back arches dramatically as he wraps his arms around your thighs, and Jinshi presses his tongue flat against your cunt, licking up as you jolt. He watches as your pussy flutters around nothing, and he slides his tongue in, moaning into your against as he tastes you. So this is what you taste like— some mixture of sin and lust, nectar that would put even the sweetest of peaches to shame. It would drive Jinshi to madness, he supposes.

Your fingers grasp at the pillow above your head, whimpering with each flex of Jinshi's tongue, and his fingers dig into your thighs, earning a squeal from your lips as you feel something tighten in your stomach. Your eyes widen as your nails dig into the sheets and your back arches impossibly more, tears in the corner of your eyes as Jinshi sucks at your orgasm, ignoring the mess of slick sliding down his chin and splattering onto the sheets. You turn red in embarrassment at the mess, but Jinshi pays it no mind, continuing to lap at your pussy, eyes digging into yours as he puts on a show for you. You look away from his eyes, opting to make a mess on his tongue instead, eyes rolled to the back of your head as a second orgasm crashes upon you. Jinshi drinks it up just as eagerly as the last, eyes half-lidded as

Your legs shake as Jinshi lets you down, fingers wiping the slick from his face as he pumps himself with it, and then sliding his tip beneath the hood of your clit to further coat his dick in your cum. You shift against his cock, grinding lightly into him as he chuckles. "Patience, beloved."

"I'd say you're worse than me." You heave, walls fluttering around Jinshi's length as he slides in. He notices the way your skin lifts with him inside of you, and he presses down on the bulge, blinking slowly. You gasp, stomach flexing out of instinct, pussy clenching around Jinshi with a hiss. Jinshi stays still, thumb brushing your clit to incite a reaction from you, earning him a lewd whimper. The sound shoots straight to his cock, head spinning as he slides his palm up your abdomen to your chest, pinching your nipple as he swallows.

"This is fine, right?"

"Insecure?" You roll your hips in affirmation. "I wouldn't have married you or let you catch me if it wasn't."

"Tease." He grumbles, taking your legs and folding them to your shoulders, forcing himself further into you. You moan, clenching around him as he moves, holding you down by the hips as he slams into you with each thrust, gasps slipping past your lips and colors in your vision as he moves. Flowers blossom in your lungs as you try to catch your breath, head spinning deliciously at the taste of Jinshi's lips on yours, a light fragrance from the rice wine he had taken mixing with the one on your lips, and you moan into his mouth, squirming from his touch. Your legs relax over his shoulders as he presses into you, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs, hair sliding off his shoulders to cage you in as you whimper.

The wind rustles the trees outside as you cum around Jinshi the first time, brows knit together and eyes closed as your face twists from the unfamiliar sensation, head thrown back and lips parting once the crash ended, and Jinshi stills, hand reaching to brush your hair to the side, cupping your face with his hand. "You alright?"

"Felt weird." You mumble. "Did you..?"

"No." Jinshi hums. "Would you like me to? Inside?"

"I don't mind." You whisper.

"Alright," He starts moving again, focusing on himself as your legs slide off his shoulders and fall into the mattress, hooking behind his pelvis as he thrusts, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he pistons into you, your breath caught in your throat as you see white and stars, drool threatening to leak down your chin and choke you with your head thrown back and muscles tense. Jinshi pants into your ear as he feels himself get close, pulsing and ebbing inside of you with each roll of his hips, your name spilling past his lips in some sort of raw desperation and begging, only spilling into you once you call his name back through your cloudy haze, white painting your walls as white fills your vision, the same white visible in the air on the snowy trees.

His breath mixes with yours as he rests his forehead on yours, bare skin pressed to yours, sweat and cum mixing with your own, the two of you merged as one. In the distant past, you loved him until it physically destroyed you, and in the distant future he will love you until he is stuck in the same destruction that had dragged you away from him. Only then would he forgive himself, lips spreading into a gentle smile, eyes staring into yours as yours are closed, catching your breath as your chest rises and falls, vine of hickeys and bruises trailing down from your neck to your waist. Your walls flutter around him as you recover from another orgasm, skin flushed like peonies as Jinshi tilts his head to press a kiss to your shoulder.

"Still with me?" He presses his palm to your cheek, palm brushing your skin.

"Yes." You pant, grimacing at the squelch that sounds when he pulls out of you.

"I wonder if we'll be with child."

"I doubt it's this easy." You mumble, lashes fluttering. "Would you want one?"

"Up to you." He mumbles, reaching to the side to pour himself another glass of wine. "We do not have to worry about succession either."

"Oh, I've never been so thankful to have not ended up where I was supposed to." You sigh in relief.

"You do not want one?"

"Not my priority." You hum. "Unless you wish for one."

"You are my priority." Jinshi hums, offering you a glass. "Another?"

"No." You roll onto your stomach to stretch your back. "We have plenty of time as well."

"I suppose." Jinshi hums, holding his hand out for yours.

You give him your right hand, and he pouts.

"Your left. The ring."

You free your arm and hold it out, and Jinshi kisses your knuckles gently, eyes closed as he hums contently.

"We match." He smiles, lips curled into a gentle smile, eyes full of a warmth you had forgotten he was capable of. You smile, a laugh bubbling out of your chest as he fiddles with your fingers, some sort of domestic ambiance filling the room. And just like that, your anxieties fade away, and a smile makes way on your face.

"I love you." He hums, lips pressed to your forehead as he lays next to you, still holding your hand, his ring brushing against yours.

"I love you too." and you close your eyes, body relaxing into his, heartbeat one below the missing sun.

[felassan]

Some Bluesky posts by David Gaider:

David Gaider: "So prepare yourself for another series of threads (easy to ignore that way, if you're not so inclined) where I discuss the journey - from leaving BioWare and then Beamdog, to doing what seemed impossible and starting the studio, to now!" [x]

DG: "The Road to Summerfall - Part 2 I guess the best place to start is with leaving BioWare. Right off the bat, I'll say I enjoyed working there - a lot. Until I didn't. I started in 1999 with BG2 and ended in 2016, 2 years after shipping DAI and after spending a year on the game which became Anthem." [x]

Rest of post is under a cut due to length.

"Things at Bio felt like they were at their height when the Doctors (Ray & Greg, the founders) were still there. We made RPG's, full stop. We made them well. Sure, there were some shitty parts... some which I didn't realize HOW shitty they were until after I left, but I'd never worked anywhere else." [x] "To me, things like the bone-numbing crunch and the mis-management were simply how things were done. I was insulated from a lot of it, too, I think. On the DA team, I had my writers (and we were a crack unit) and I had managers who supported and empowered me. Or indulged me. I'm not sure which, tbh." [x] "It's funny that Mike Laidlaw becoming Creative Director was one of the best working experiences I had there, as initially it was one of the Shitty Things. You see, when Brent Knowles left in 2009, I felt like I was ready to replace him. This was kinda MY project, after all, and who else was there?" [x]

"Well, it turned out this coincided with the Jade Empire 2 team being shut down, and their staff was being shuffled to the other teams. Mike had already been tapped to replace Brent... Mike, a writer. Who I'd helped train. There wasn't even a conversation. When I complained, the reaction? Surprise." [x] "It was the first indication that Bio's upper management just didn't think of me in That Way. That Lead Writer was as far as I was ever getting in that company, and there was a way of Doing Things which involved buddy politics that... I guess I just never quite keyed into. I was bitter, I admit it." [x] "But, like I said, this turned out well. Mike WAS the right pick, damn it. He had charisma and drive, and he even won me over. We worked together well, and I think DA benefited for it. I think I'd still be at Bio, or have stayed a lot longer, but then I made my first big mistake: leaving Dragon Age." [x]

"See, we'd finished DAI in 2014 and I was beginning to feel the burn out coming on. DAI had been a grueling project, and I really felt like there was only so long I could keep writing stories about demons and elves and mages before it started to become rote for me and thus a detriment to the project." [x] "Plus, for the first time I had in Trick Weekes someone with the experience and willingness they could replace me. So I told Mike I thought it was time I moved onto something else... and he sadly let me go. So, for a time, the question became which of the other two BioWare teams I'd move onto." [x] "Both needed a Lead Writer. Mass Effect Andromeda was just gearing up, and while I liked everyone out in Montreal I didn't really want to move. So I joined the new project that the former Mass Effect team in Edmonton was cooking up - the one that became Anthem but, at the time, was code-named Dylan." [x]

"That was a mistake. You see, the thing you need to know about BioWare is that for a long time it was basically two teams under one roof: the Dragon Age team and the Mass Effect team. Run differently, very different cultures, may as well have been two separate studios. And they didn't get along." [x] "The company was aware of the friction and attempts to fix it had been ongoing for years, mainly by shuffling staff between the teams more often. Yet this didn't really solve things, and I had no idea until I got to the Dylan team. The team didn't want me there. At all." [x] "Worse, until this point Dylan had been concepted as kind of a "beer & cigarettes" hard sci-fi setting (a la Aliens), and I'd been given instructions to turn it into something more science fantasy (a la Star Wars). Yet I don't think anyone told the team this. So they thought this change was MY doing." [x]

"I kept getting feedback about how it was "too Dragon Age" and how everything I wrote or planned was "too Dragon Age"... the implication being that *anything* like Dragon Age was bad. And yet this was a team where I was required to accept and act on all feedback, so I ended up iterating CONSTANTLY." [x] "I won't go into detail about the problems except to say it became clear this was a team that didn't want to make an RPG. Were very anti-RPG, in fact. Yet they wanted me to wave my magic writing wand and create a BioWare quality story without giving me any of the tools I'd need to actually do that." [x] "I saw the writing on the wall. This wasn't going to work. So I called up my boss and said that I'd stick it out and try my best, but only if there was SOMETHING waiting on the other side, where I could have more say as Creative Director. I wanted to move up. I was turned down flat, no hesitation." [x]

"That... said a lot. Even more when I was told that, while I could leave the company if I wanted to, I wouldn't have any success outside of BioWare. But in blunter words. So I quit." [x] "Was it easy? Hell no. I thought I'd end up buried under a cornerstone at Bio, honestly. I LIKE security. Sure, I'd dreamed of maybe starting my own studio, but that was a scary idea and I'd never pursued it. I had no idea where I was going to go or what I was going to do, but I wanted OUT." [x] "Which led to me at home after my last day, literally having a nervous breakdown, wondering what kind of idiot gives up a "good job". How was a writer, of all things, with no real interest in business supposed to start his own studio? It felt apocalyptic. Within a year, however, I was on my way." [x]

[original thread, following thread]

Follow-up Q&A Bluesky posts:

User: "Were David Gaider still at Bioware, I am certain you would have showed us exactly how Mythal was transferred to Morrigan. You would have paid off on all those years of growth since DAO" David Gaider: "You can be certain I would have *wanted* to, for sure. Whether I'd have been able to is something not even I can be certain of. During my time at BioWare, I had to settle for less-than-ideal results lots of times - that's just how it goes, when it comes to making games." [x]

User: "jesus fuck that is a revolting way to treat any employee" DG: "The thing that got to me most was the apparent assumption that I needed "success". That this was the most important thing to me, to work on projects that sold millions of copies. I like that, sure, who wouldn't? But he obviously didn't know me at all." [x]

User: "Could you elaborate on the anti-RPG sentiment? Was it like the team didn't want narrative choices or game mechanics that affected dialogue? Did they even want dialogue choices?" DG: "There has always been an element within Bio that quietly resented the idea we could never quite get away from being a studio that "just" made RPG's and that our writing was more celebrated than our action. So, yes: more action, less story, less cinematics, and less dialogue all around." [x]

User: "I mean, that's the team (Ship of Theseus!) that made ME2, right? ME2, which was like ME1 if you added more loyalty quests, more romance options, and made the good ending more dependent on doing the loyalty quests?" DG: "When I say an "element within BioWare", I don't mean the entire team... we're talking about a group of devs, many of which worked on ME2 yes, who gained traction because their views likely aligned with what EA also wanted. Speculation on my part, largely, because I wasn't on that team until Dylan." [x]

User: "Gods that is some really shitty corporate culture to say 'You'll ammount to nothing outside of Bioware!'." DG: "From some perspectives, I haven't. I make indie games that sell thousands of copies, and from a triple-A perspective that's... basically nothing. But I'm happy, I enjoy what I'm doing, and I feel creatively fulfilled. Not everyone thinks those things equate with success, though." [x]

User: "Hold up. Jade Empire was gonna get a sequel? How did that not happen?" DG: "The team worked on it for quite a while. First it was Jade Empire 2, and then they rebooted it as a different game altogether which was kind of "modern Jade Empire but minus anything Asian"... and then they cancelled it. Happens a lot to projects as they spin up." [x]

User: "What do you think began the conflict between the Dragon Age and Mass Effect team?" DG: "I honestly have no idea. Competition for resources, I suppose? One team's plans were always being cut short because the other team suddenly needed all their team members for an upcoming release." [x] User: "That makes sense. I can't imagine how it must feel to have your project side lined or reduced because of another team. Do you think the ME team were more entitled because they perceived their franchise as having a bigger cultural impact?" DG: "I never got that sense, though I was never in the meetings where these things were hashed out. They tended to always get what they needed, however, because EA always expected that each ME game had way more *potential* for huge sales than DA did." [x]

User: "Wow.... this makes so much awful, shifty sense. It has seemed to me, from the outside, that there has been a preference for ME over DA. The launch of DATV and the residual layoffs seemed more of a hit job from inside than just a troll problem." DG: "While I was at BioWare, EA *always* preferred Mass Effect, straight up Their Marketing team liked it more. It was modern. It had action. They never quite knew what to do with DA, and whenever DA outperformed ME, ME got the excuses. If you ask me, it was always just shy of the axe since DA Origins." [x] User: "Can I ask a follow-up question ? Is them not knowing what to do with DA the reason why every DA game was different ? While I love all the games I've always wondered where that originated from" DG: "Maybe in part? I'd say the biggest reason was that, while I was there, the BioWare teams were bad at overreaction. They'd take the feedback/criticism to heart - both our own and the fans' - and generally fixed that but also overcorrected. And then there was EA's influence on top of that, yes." [x]

User: "Is that why DA games never got a remaster/remake?" DG: "There's a lot more that goes into such a question, I'd say, though I honestly have no idea. I can't imagine it helped." [x] User: "Do you feel EA will perhaps sell off DA to another developer like Larian (Baulders Gate) or Playground (Fable)? Considering the reception of Inquisition and Veilguard?" DG: "I suppose anything is possible, but to me it seems unlikely if EA thinks there's any chance they might just sit on the IP until they can reboot it later on." [x]

User: "I've always gotten that vibe from the games department, yet I also saw Dragon Age getting a LOT more attention than Mass Effect when it came to the peripheral material like books, comics, lore books, etc. Do you know why?" DG: "I don’t think that was ever true? ME was so much easier with logo branding, and the N7 hoodie was ACE. ��" [x]

User: "Was there ever any pressure put on the DA team to move away from RPGs?" DG: "Not initially. Initially Ray & Greg said they were fine with having two different styles of RPGs. After they left, there was pressure to emulate ME more and more because, again, it was the “future”." [x]

User: "May I ask for timeframe? Did you work on Joplin at all, or did you move before it even entered planning stage?" DG: "Joplin wasn’t really being worked on while I was still there. The DA team was finishing the last of the DAI DLCs." [x]

User: "i don't think it was just EA, was it? i recall several instances of ray muzyka praising mass effect in interviews or open letters but i don't recall once him doing it for dragon age." DG: "I can’t say. Ray was a big fantasy fan, so I doubt it." [x]

DG: "In terms of the remasters, I suspect the major difference between the two wasn’t favouritism but rather the engine. All three ME games were made in Unreal." [x]

User: "If you stayed, would you be able to persuade BioWare/EA to push DA4 on the success of DAI or would it be cancelled/delayed like Veilguard did?" DG: "I was a sub-lead, not even a senior lead. I would have had as much influence as I did when I was there, which is to say very little." [x]

User: "Anytime I see ex-BioWare people talk about Anthem, I can’t help but wonder if that game should have been axed early on - it never felt much like a BioWare game, even in the marketing. Or would you say that the game itself could have been fine, but it was the management of the IP that was the issue?" DG: "The initial version I worked on still had some RPG in it, but you could see where the winds were blowing. I think the team leads just convinced themselves it was good and would all work out somehow. Through “BioWare magic”, I guess." [x]

User: "Every time I hear about this or see it, it always sounds like the ME team were just a-holes. No great way but to say it bluntly. Nothing to be done." DG: "I wouldn’t say that. Most of them were lovely. We were always competing for very finite resources, however." [x]

[original thread, following thread]

[riddlesrizzler]

The Girl in The Bumblebee Tights

summary: Mattheo’s love language? Collecting the world’s weirdest socks just to make her smile. characters: mattheo riddle. hufflepuff! reader. mentions of slytherin boys. warnings: none, just fluffy and mattheo having a heart. word count: 1.5k

He didn't get distracted. He didn't take notice to people unless they were in his inner circle or if they could provide him with something. Mattheo Riddle was a boy who gripped control tightly in his fist.

So why in Merlin's name could he not stop looking at her?

It started with the headband.

He wasn't even sure why he had noticed it at first, he had seen girls wear headbands before. Like how Pansy wore her sleek designer one on certain occasions, or like Lavender Brown had the ones with flower prints. But this one. The one that she wore, was made of buttons- actual buttons- sewn into a thin white headband that sat on her head like some sort of whimsical crown.

Some of them were big, some were small, none of them seemed to match, and the whole thing looked like something a child would make during craft time. It was like a constant bullseye over her head, and Mattheo couldn't stop his gaze from wandering back to it.

Then, it started, like a sickness he started to notice everything else.

The next time he saw her it hit him. She was curled up in one of the oversized leather chairs, wrapped in the most obnoxiously large rainbow-striped sweaters he had ever seen. The sleeves went far past her hands, the hem covered the tops of her thighs as she sat cross.- legged engrossed in a book about magical creatures. She tucked herself in like it was a cocoon, idly toying with a stray thread as her lips moved slightly, reading the words under her breath.

Mattheo found himself staring.

He didn't mean to. It was just- why was she so damn fascinating?

A few days later, the final nail in his coffin came in the form of yellow and black striped tights. Bumblebee tights.

He was walking through the courtyard with Theo, Enzo, and Draco when he spotted her sitting on a stone bench, legs stretched out in front of her, the tights peeking out under her uniform skirt.

She looked like a human honeybee, it was objectively ridiculous.

But also, somehow, the cutest thing he had ever seen.

"You're staring," Theo muttered beside himself, smirking.

"I am not," Mattheo hissed, forcing himself to look away.

Draco glanced over at her, then back at him, raising an eyebrow. "Since when are you interested in that?"

"Interested in what?" Mattheo scoffed.

"The weird Hufflepuff who dresses like she just raided a child's dress- up box." Enzo snickered.

Mattheo shot him a glare but said nothing. Because the thing was... they weren't wrong. She was weird, but not in a way that was off putting-no, in a way that was unapologetically her. And Merlin help him, that made it so much worse.

Because once Mattheo had locked his gaze on her, he couldn't look away.

The way she hummed to herself when she walked down the corridors, completely unaware of how many people turned to stare at her. The way she offered candy or stickers to literally anyone who looked remotely sad. The way she laughed- like she had never known the weight of darkness, like the world was something beautiful and kind and worth believing in.

He was utterly doomed.

But when Mattheo Riddle wanted something, he usually got it. Which meant he wanted her attention.

His first attempt of grabbing her attention was subtle. He "accidentally" knocked over an ink bottle near her in Potions, sending a slow, dark river creeping towards her books. She gasped and scrambled to lift them before they were ruined, glancing at him with wide, startled eyes.

"Oh no! Here, use this-" She ripped a page from her notebook, using it to block the spill before it reached the edge of the table. "Be careful next time, yeah?"

Mattheo blinked. Be careful next time? That was it? No flustered stammering? No breathless reaction to his smirk? He was Mattheo Riddle. Girls lost their minds over less.

His friends made it worse.

"Smooth," Draco snorted later, clapping him on the back.

"She's oblivious," Theo said grinning. "I don't think she even knows you were flirting with her."

Mattheo scowled. "I wasn't flirting."

Blaise smirked. "Right. and Draco doesn't bleach his hair."

So, Mattheo tried again.

This time, in the Great Hall. He had made sure to sit in a position where she was in his eyesight, where he could see her talking animatedly to her friends about something- he wasn't sure what, but her hands moved wildly as she spoke, eyes sparkling. He "accidentally" sent a piece if parchment flying in her direction.

She blinked when it landed on her plate, then picked it up to hand it back to him. "Oh! I think you dropped this."

Mattheo flashed a charming smile. "Nah, sunshine. That was for you."

Her brows furrowed as she looked at the piece of plain parchment. "... but it's blank?"

Enzo choked on his pumpkin juice. Theo outright cackled.

Mattheo barely held back a groan of frustration. "It's, uh... so you can write me a letter."

She tilted her head, thinking, and then- she beamed. "Oh! That's so nice of you! I'll have to think of something really interesting to write about. Thank you, Mattheo!"

And just like that, she had turned back to her food, completely unaware that she had just rendered him completely and utterly speechless.

But Mattheo wasn't one to give up, so he decided he would try to capture the weird, whimsical Hufflepuff's attention by doing it her way.

His friends said it was dumb, but he was determined.

One day, he rolled up the cuffs of his trousers just enough to reveal bright green socks with tiny flying broomsticks. He made sure to sit next to her in Charms, stretching his legs out, waiting.

Nothing.

The next day, purple socks with cauldrons.

Still nothing.

So, he escalated.

Bright red socks with golden snitches.

Mismatched socks- one with snakes, one with badgers.

Glow-in-the-dark socks that featured fiery dragons.

At this point, his friends were dying. Their once cold hearted friend had now a drawer filled of crazy socks for this oblivious Hufflepuff.

“She doesn’t even notice,” Theo wheezed, watching as Mattheo very obviously stretched his legs out on the bench during breakfast, flashing electric blue socks covered in dancing Hippogriffs.

"I think she thinks he has bad taste," Draco smirked.

Blaise shook his head. "This is painful to watch."

And yet, Mattheo refused to give up.

Finally, finally, his moment came.

He was leaning against the wall outside the Great Hall, arms crossed, listening to Theo ramble about something when she walked by- and then paused.

She was looking at his feet.

Mattheo tensed.

Then, she smiled.

"Oh! I love your socks!" She chirped, eyes bright. "Are those tiny Nifflers?" She leaned in slightly.

Mattheo tried to ignore the heat in his cheeks. "Uh... yeah."

"They're amazing!" She giggled. "You always have the best socks."

Theo choked.

Enzo froze.

Mattheo blinked. "I-" He cleared his throat, this was his chance. "Yeah. Well, they reminded me of... uh... you."

She tilted her head. "Oh?"

He gestured to the red hat on her head that was shaped like an apple, with a brown stem at the top."You, uh... dress fun."

Her entire face lit up, an expression that mimicked the sun when it rose first thing in the morning. "Oh! Thank you, Mattheo!"

And just like that, she bounced off down the corridor, completely unaware of what she had just done.

Theo was howling.

"She noticed the socks." He wiped a tear from his eyes. "Your dumb plan might have worked."

Enzo smirked. "So. Do we think he's actually going to ask her out? Or is he just going to keep buying socks?"

Mattheo scowled. "Shut up."

But the thing was- she did notice. She had noticed him.

Every time she saw him, she was sure to check, looking down to his feet to see what he was wearing. And every time she did, she smiled.

So if Mattheo suddenly found himself owning more ridiculous socks than any sane person should...well.

That was his business.

[munsonsmixtapes]

hello! if you have the time could you please write soft Eddie guiding a shy reader when they make out for the first time?

part two

There's a knock on Eddie's door and he hurries to answer it, hoping it's who he thinks it is. He isn't expecting anyone else, but it's not uncommon for people to show up looking to buy from him, but he really hopes it's you. He's been looking forward to tonight for over a week since you suggested it. He opens the door and there you are, beautiful as ever.

He steps aside and you plant a soft kiss on his cheek as you enter the trailer. You hold out a DVD and a few of Eddie's favorite snacks and he can't help but smile at how sweet you are. You've only been on a few dates and hopes he wouldn't scare you off if he proposed. Because if he's being honest, he can't see himself with anyone else.

No one he's dated has ever been so sweet to him. All they seemed to be interested in was using him for his body and rarely anything else. He wasn't really known as Eddie "the freak" Munson (well, maybe in other ways) anymore, but it still seemed like people didn't want anything else from him besides drugs or sex.

But you? All you seem to want from him is his company, genuinely interested in all of his fun facts that he has about random subjects and you even laugh at his jokes. And they aren't pity laughs either. You're a breath of fresh air and he hopes you'll stick around forever.

"You didn't have to do all this," he tells you with a smile as he takes the stuff from you. You're staring down at the floor and he can tell you're getting shy on him again. He doesn't mind, though. He thinks it's cute.

"Of course I did," you insist. "I wanted to treat you for once," you then smile and Eddie never gets tired of seeing it.

"Well I'm not going to say no to that," he responds then takes you by the hand, threading his fingers through yours. "Now c'mon."

You follow him over to the couch and the two of you sit together, but you make sure to leave a little space to be polite. You want to be cuddled up into his side, though. You want rest your head on his chest as his hand lazily runs up and down your back.

A lot of the people you've out with all seemed to be after one thing so it warms your heart that Eddie is willing to go at your pace. He always waits for you to initiate things like hugs or kisses and waits until you pull away, never asking for more. He's nothing but a gentleman and you really like spending time with him.

Eddie spreads out all of the movies you brought, his eyebrows quirking at the variety. You seem to have an eclectic taste and he admires that. He plucks the horror movie from the selection and heads over to the VCR. As soon as his back is turned, you begin to panic. You had only brought the movie to give you excuse to get close to him because of the scary scenes, but now you're beginning to regret your decision.

Eddie turns back to you and you try to hide your fear, debating on telling him that you'd rather watch something else, but you can't yourself to form the words. So you just sit in silence as Eddie moves back over to the couch, sitting even closer to you now and your fear takes over as you throw yourself into his arms.

Eddie lets out a laugh at your eagerness but he wraps his arms around you anyway, pulling you even closer to him as he turns his head towards the screen. You instantly feel better knowing that he'll keep you safe but can't help but think about what Steve told you when he rented the movie out to you.

He told you that it was the scariest movie he'd ever seen and that he couldn't sleep for days afterwards. And you rented it anyway even though he had suggested many more options that weren't nearly as scary and would still help you get into Eddie's arms despite how silly he thought the idea was.

The movie hasn't even started and you're already burying your head into his chest, gripping his shirt in your fists as tight as possible. His hand moves up to stroke the back of your head as he murmurs something to you that you can't quite hear.

"Hey, hey," he says as grabs hold of your face, forcing you to look him in the eye. His are nothing but soft as they look at you, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," you shake your head, suddenly feeling silly for how scared you just were. "It's nothing."

"We don't have to watch the movie," he tells you. "If you were scared, why didn't you say something?" It's a fair question, but you stay silent, not wanting to tell him the truth.

"I-" you start to say but cut yourself off, not wanting to admit the truth nor finding the right words to use.

"You what, honey?" He asks, his hands moving up and down your back exactly the way you wanted him to. Sometimes you're convinced he's a mind reader.

"I just wanted an excuse to cuddle you," you tell him, your voice so soft he almost didn't hear you. And at that, Eddie lets out a laugh before pulling you to his chest, giving you a tight squeeze. You have to remind yourself that he's not laughing at you, but because of you.

"You could have just cuddled me," he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world and it is. Well, it should be, but you've always found it hard to voice what you want no matter how badly you want it.

"How about we call off the movie for now?" He asks and turns off the TV then pulls you closer to him, his hands still moving up and down your back. You look up at him as he licks his lips, now unable to think about anything but how inviting they look.

The two of you have kissed multiple times, but it's never gone any farther than little pecks here and there because you've been too afraid to do any more than that. But now you feel the need to go all the way, wondering what he tastes like, if his hair is as soft as it looks.

But you've never made out with anyone and that scares you. Even though you know for sure that Eddie would talk you through it, the whole thing still makes you feel nervous. But apparently not nervous to forget it completely because before you can stop yourself, you're looking up at Eddie, gulping before getting his attention.

"Eddie?" You ask and his head turns to you, those honey eyes boring into yours. You melt under his gaze but trying to muster up the confidence again.

"Hm?" He asks, that stupid smirk making its way upon his face, the same one that's always there when he looks at you.

"Can-" you cut yourself off for the second time tonight but Eddie just sits there, patient as ever as he waits for you to speak. He knows how hard it can get sometimes for you to speak your mind so he doesn't mind waiting for you to finish your thoughts. "Can I have a kiss?"

"Of course you can," he responds, taking your face in his hands and pecking your lips once, twice, three times before pulling away only for you to grumble in response.

"No," you shake your head. "I want a real kiss."

"Oh," he replies, wondering what made you decide on that, but wanting to oblige. He's willing to give you whatever you ask.

His hands move down to neck, his thumbs rubbing back and forth across your jaw as he leans in again, his lips slowly capturing yours as they move together slowly. He's nothing but gentle as he kisses you, showing you how it's done.

Your hands press against his chest and all you can think about how you can't believe you've gone so long without his lips attached to yours. They're nothing but soft and gentle and now you're sure that you can do this for hours.

Eddie breaks away before you're ready and you're breathing hard as you try to catch your breath. He stares down, a chuckle falling from his lips as he presses his forehead to yours.

"You're supposed breathe, baby," he tells you softly and you feel your cheeks heat.

"Can we try that again?" You ask as you pick up one of his curls, twirling it around your pointer finger, staring down at it as you speak again. "Do you think we could...make out? I promise to breathe this time."

"Oh, honey," he sighs before pressing a kiss to you lips. "I'd love to make out with you." Another and another until he's capturing your lips again, taking the lead again. You have no idea what you're doing but Eddie is being nothing but a sweetheart as he guides you through it.

He pulls away again and you whine this time at the absence of his lips, chasing him and getting in another quick kiss before you sit back, waiting for him.

"Do you want to sit in my lap?" He suggests. "I think that'll be more comfortable for you."

Eddie sits with his back against the couch and you do as he suggests and straddle his waist which feels foreign to you but he's right. It's much more comfortable. Your arms wrap around his neck as his rest on the small of your back, a good spot between your waist and upper back because this is just kissing and he doesn't want to give you the impression that he's going to go any farther.

"You kiss me now," he says and your heart races in your chest as you think about fucking it all up.

"Are you sure?" You ask, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling on it as you contemplate.

"Positive," he nods. "You've got this. Do whatever you want, baby. This is all about you."

"Okay," you nod, leaning forward and slotting your lips just like he did, Eddie immediately responding to you but he's moving at your pace instead of leading like he previously had.

You remember to breath through your nose as your fingers thread into his hair on each side of his head. His hair is normally off limits because people get too rough with it, but with you, he doesn't care. In fact, he loves when you play with his hair, a little bit of love sprinkles into every touch of it.

"You're doing so good, honey," he murmurs against your lips. "Do you want to try sticking your tongue in my mouth?"

"Please," you whine with a yank of his hair and if you can feel his cock hardening underneath you, you don't say anything. And thank god for that.

"Do you want me to show you first?"

"Yes," you breath against his lips and he's getting even more hard, knowing that he's going to have to get himself off later because there's no way he's going to expect you to go all the way right now.

Eddie captures your lips again as his hands rest against your waist, landing on the strip of skin where your shirt has ridden up. His lips are moving against you to warm you up and then he gingerly flicks his tongue against your bottom lip.

"Open up," he commands against your lips and you do as he says, opening up for him as he slides his tongue into your mouth. He swirls his tongue around yours and you mimic his actions, tugging on his hair as a moan falls from your lips at the feeling of his tongue moving with yours.

Your eyes widen and you can't help but pull away as you suddenly feel embarrassed at the sound you've just made. Eddie, though? Eddie's convinced that's the hottest thing he's ever heard and he really wants you to make it again.

"You don't have to be embarrassed," he says quickly, trying his best to assure you. "It was really hot, actually."

"It was?"

"Definitely," he nods. "Would it help if you made me moan too?" All you can do is nod and before he can say anything else, your lips are on his, only a few seconds passing before your tongue is flicking against his bottom lip. He opens up immediately and you mimic what he just showed you, your tongue swirling around his as you pulling on his hair even harder, a loud moan falling from his lips.

You haven't thought about it until now since you were so caught up in his kisses, but you're soaking wet between your legs and if you had more confidence, you'd ask Eddie to take care of you, but you don't so you don't. You don't think you're ready for that right now anyway.

You try to focus on the taste of him to get your mind off of it. He tastes like cigarettes that you know he smoked before you came over and you don't know why but you can't get enough of it. It's intoxicating.

You stay like that for a while until your lips are kiss bitten and your legs are asleep from you straddling him for too long. You both decide to call it a night and Eddie walks you to your car like the gentleman he is, kissing you one more time before you drive away. He then goes back inside and heads to his room where he collapses onto his bed, deciding that he's probably (definitely) in love with you.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

PAIRING: james kelly x pregnant!reader

SMUT ❦

JAMES KELLY had been nothing but careful with you since the day you told him you were pregnant. There was no roughhousing. No spontaneous sex. No bending you over the kitchen counter while dinner was still cooking. Just nothing.

At first, you thought it was sweet—how gentle he was, how his big hands always rested on your belly, being protective, reverent. How he pressed kisses to the swell of it, how his eyes shined whenever the baby moved in the womb. Yet overtime, you started to feel..needy, to say the least. Seeing those long fingers work on whenever he was doing, hold random stuff, how he spread his legs too casually, made you FERAL. And you had enough of acting like it wasn't taking a tool on you.

So here you were, desperate enough to climb into his lap at the end of the day, straddling him on the couch, grinding against the hard length in his sweats with slow, teasing rolls of your hips.

James groaned, head falling back, hands gripping your hips to still you. “Baby, you gotta stop.”

“Why?” You whined, dragging your nails down his chest, watching his muscles tense. “You haven’t touched me in weeks.”

He exhaled through his nose, patience hanging on by a damn thread to not just do what you wanted him to do. “You know why.”

You pouted, yet rolled your hips again, making him suck in a sharp breath. He was hard—so deliciously hard—straining against his sweats.

"Jimmie," you whispered, leaning in, pressing your lips to the shell of his ear. "I need you..please.."

You kissed down his neck, grinding against him until you could feel the way his cock twitched underneath your clothed core. His hands suddenly grabbed your ass, kneading, squeezing so beautifully you had to close your eyes and sink in the feeling. His lips brushed your ear. “You wanna ride me, baby?”

You nodded quickly, already moving your hands to pull off his shirt. He caught your wrists, eyes locking with yours with seriousness. “Nice and slow. You hear me?”

You swallowed hard, nodding again.

And when he lifted you slightly, lifting his hips to push his sweats down just enough to free his cock; thick and leaking at the mushroomy tip already, to which you could feel the shiver spreading up your spine. You braced your hands against his chest as he smoothly took off your lacy white, already soaked, panties and lined himself up, dragging his tip through your slick folds..slowly..teasingly. You whined at the freely feeling, rolling your hips against him, hoping to have more of this friction.

“Shit,” James cursed as you finally sank down on him, inch by inch, stretching around him so perfectly. “You feel so good, baby. Always so tight around me.” your mind spined in the great feeling as his hands gripped your thighs, steadying you, keeping you from taking too much at once. It were slow, deep strokes—he really made sure you felt every single inch of him, rubbing against your walls just right, softly making sure he reached that breathtaking spot in your core.

Your hands braced on his chest, to make it easier for yourself to lifting up slowly, before sinking back down, gasping at the impossible stretch that happened.

James moaned low in his throat, hands gripping your hips, helping you guide your movements. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.” your belly brushed against his abs, and James’s hand immediately went to rest there, thumb rubbing slow, lazy circles over your swollen, stretched skin. “Doin’ so good for me,” he murmured, watching you through hooded eyes, thumb gently pressing down to your navel, hooking it up with his digit. With your mind spiraling, eyes rolling back, and lips parting to exhale another series of moans, your gummy walls clenched around his member, your body already trembling from the building, strong orgasm that pooled in the lower base of your tummy

“Yeah, you close?” he breathlessly muttered, sensing your soon-to-come release. You only whimpered, grinding against him, trying to chase your high, while James was right there with you—his movements slowing, grip tightening. "Yeah, me too baby, me too"

When he came it was a deep, slow, drawn-out—his body tensed underneath you, face twisting in the overwhelming sensation, his hips bucking up just once before he stilled. You collapsed against his chest, breathless, his arms wrapping around you immediately, holding you close, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. “Wasn’t too much?” he murmured after a moment, voice softer now, yet hoarse, hand trembling as he run it down his face. Your lips only curled in satisfied smile when you shook your head, before pressing a lazy kiss to his jaw.

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[phoenixmuses]

He gave a slight nod to the response, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Steve knew this wasn't necessarily out of some sudden desire Billy had to fix things — this was personal. This was about the one thing in this world that might actually ground him when everything else around him seemed to go wrong. It was about Max, and a part of him couldn't help but wonder if she truly realized just how far Hargrove might go to protect her.

"I know you won't let anything happen to them," his tone was laced with a subtle underlying sincerity. There was a beat of silence before Harrington decided to cautiously broach the subject. "That night at the Byers' place... you were pissed, but there was something else. You were concerned about Max."

Steve chewed on his lower lip almost imperceptibly, his eyes darting over the blond's expression as he tested the waters. "And hey, man, I get it — I shouldn't have lied to you and... I'm sorry. We were dealing with this crap by ourselves, you know?" The last comment was accompanied by a vague gesture around them with one hand, the implications of the Upside Down hanging in the air.

Then, taking the opportunity to lighten the mood a little, Steve continued with a faint smirk of amusement. "You're sure we can't braid our hair? Damn, there goes my weekend plans — I had a whole style picked out for you, man," he mused, giving Billy's arm a light pat in solidarity before his hands rested on his hips again. With a quiet exhale, his smirk faded as he glanced around the area, adding more solemnly, "We should start putting together a game plan."

Billy kept ocean hues trained on Steve at all times, almost like he was expecting some kind of attack at any moment. Maybe because he was. Violence was what he grew up in. Violence was what he knew. The whole being nice thing? He hadn’t experienced nice since his mother was still around. And only a few times with Max before he went and messed that all up.

Why was Steve being so damn nice? It was infuriating and endearing all at once. It made him sick to admit to himself but Steve Harrington actually was a nice guy. And Billy knew there was one thing he didn’t deserve. Someone kind. Someone nice. He knew he was too damn broken to have good people in his life.

But this situation had someone brought them together for the sake of the kids in town. For the sake of Max. Billy had to keep her safe. He forced his body to relax, his features to calm.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to any of them… especially not Max. So if that means we have to work together then I’ll try.” He finally allowed, all prior venom gone from his voice.

“Just don’t think this means we’re gonna hold hands and braid each others hair.”