#like there is just so much to analyze and chew on with them

[bylerist]

genuinely what did the duffers put in byler because why do they still occupy at least 70% of my brain over 1000 days after vol2. they take up so much of my brain every day i wake up and one of my first thoughts is just byler. byler byler. byler. i cant listen to music without thinking of them. i will see someone wearing blue and yellow and im like oh this 70 year old man ships byler sooooo bad. i will see two rocks on the side of the road and im like. byler. will is the smaller one

[likeumeanit9497]

bet | c.s. |

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: when y/n loses a bet to chris and is forced to go to a party, she realizes that she can be a lot more fun than she thought she could be.

warnings: SMUT; unprotected p in v; oral (f receiving); choking; dirty talk; overstimulation; LOTS of plot; mentions of alcohol; 18+

notes: okay soooo...this is long. guys i try SO HARD to make my one shots shorter but I CAN'T DO IT IM SORRY I JUST LOVE CREATING A PLOT LINE TOO MUCH!!! so i 100% get it if u don't want to read all 6,857 words of this BUT i will say the smut in this is excellent. if u do choose to read this i hope u enjoy but i love ALL of u so much <333

“So after the kid shot me with the SRT I legit only had like 20 health,” Chris’s conversation was very much one-sided as you tried to keep your focus on the study material in front of you. “I didn’t have any slurp juice or bandages, so I definitely thought I was fucked because the kid was running towards me.” You began chewing on your bottom lip as you flipped through flashcards; Chris’s voice growing much too loud for the campus library. In your periphery, you could see that Chris was no longer writing notes and instead had abandoned his pencil to begin moving his hands animatedly as he continued his story. “Oh! And I was also almost out of mats. I was trying to build but he kept shooting at me so I was running out of material quick.” You sighed softly, searching through your business law textbook to find a concept that was sure to be on the test on Monday. The same test that Chris would also be taking, though he was proving to be completely disinterested in preparing himself for it as he continued to drone on about his recent Fortnite win.

“Chris,” You began, finally turning to face him. “I’m sure it’s all very impressive, but we have a pretty big midterm on Monday, remember? That’s the whole reason we’re here.” You shoot him a smile to hopefully soften your words, but thought to yourself that if you had known he was going to be so distracting, you never would have agreed to study with him. Chris blinked at you, a cocky smile pulling at the corner of his lips. He leaned back in the library chair and rested his hands against his stomach. You didn’t know Chris very well, as typically you only really spoke to each other in class, so you couldn’t really gauge his reaction to your words. You watched him for a moment, analyzing the way that his glittery-blue eyes flicked down to your lips and back up again. “But business law is so boring.” He finally replied, humour laced in his voice.

You chuckled, splitting your flashcards in half and handing a stack of them to him. “I know, trust me. But you have to study or else you’ll be fucked Monday morning.” You replied, and with a sigh he took your offered flashcards and straightened up in his chair. “Fine,” He huffed, “But I can’t stay very late, I’ve got a party to go to.” He wiggled his eyebrows cheekily as he spoke, and you stayed silent as you fought the urge to roll your eyes. Finally, you both began flipping through your respective flashcards in silence, the only distraction being the occasional brush of Chris’s arm against yours. You finally felt yourself fall into the satisfying feeling of being laser focused on the material in front of you, when Chris’s voice once again broke the silence.

“Speaking of parties, how come I never see you at any of them?” He asked, dropping his half of the flashcards onto the work table and reaching for his phone. Sighing, you barely flicked your eyes up in acknowledgement before giving him a curt response. “Not my scene.” You replied simply, hoping that answer was enough. “I don’t know if I believe that.” He replied, his voice filled with humour once again. “Hmm?” You rested your head in your hand as you continued haphazardly reading the cards. He stayed silent for a moment, and you could feel his eyes burning into you as he searched for a response. “I mean, I’ve seen plenty of your friends out.” You shrugged. “They’re more fun than I am.”

“Now I know that’s not true.” His words were finally enough to make you drop your own flashcards and turn to face him. “Chris, it’s a Friday night and I’m sitting in the library — where I plan on staying until I’m practically forced out at closing time — doing my very best to study for a midterm that I’ve been prepared to write for about two weeks. I spend so much time in this exact chair that I wouldn’t be surprised to show up one day and see a plaque with my name on it. This is my idea of fun. So how exactly do you think otherwise?” Chris smiled at you, his eyes glimmering with humorous appreciation. “I’ve got a sixth sense for these things, Y/n.” He shrugged, his voice a low, taunting whisper. You scoffed, shocked by his presumption that he knows you more than he really does.

“In fact,” He began again, making you close your eyes out of sheer frustration. “I think I can prove it.” You turned to face him once again, shockingly intrigued by his statement. Raising one eyebrow, you encourage him to continue. “Let’s make a bet.” You tilted your head, unable to hide your curiosity. “A bet.” You repeated. He nodded his head and leaned back in his chair. “We quiz each other with what’s on these flashcards. If you win, I’ll leave the library so you can study in peace, but if I win, you come to the party with me tonight.”

Your eyes widened in shock as you took in his proposition. The thought of going to a party on any weekend made you uneasy, but on the Friday before a major midterm it sounded disastrous. “And what if I say I don’t want to be a part of this bet at all?” You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest. Chris smirked and shrugged. “Then I guess you’ll have to put up with me. As a matter of fact, I bet I could stay a little later, too. I have plenty of stories to share with you.” You groaned out loud as he sent you a quick wink. “I hate parties!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air in exasperation.

“What? Don’t think you can answer more questions right than me?” He asked, his teasing voice laced with humour. But his words brought you to the realization that he was right, of course you wouldn’t have to go to the party. There was no way that Chris would be able to get more of the flashcard questions that you wrote correct. So, after a few more moments of contemplation, you shrugged your shoulders and straightened up in your chair. “Fuck it, I’m in.” A smile grew on Chris’s face as he took your hand and shook it; sealing the deal.

𓆩♡𓆪

“Yes! Let’s fucking go!” Your face dropped as you watched Chris jump from his seat, fists pumping the air as he circled your work table, soaking in his win. Once he reached you, he grabbed your shoulders and shook them lightly, pulling you from your shocked disassociation. “How the fuck did that just happen?” You asked, your voice weak as you looked at the tally score you had made on a scrap piece of paper. At the start of your little competition, you had actually been pleasantly surprised to see Chris answering the first few questions right. But, as you got closer and closer to the end, and with that, your scores eventually becoming tied, you suddenly became nervous. When you got your last question wrong, you felt your stomach drop, knowing that in order for you not to lose the bet Chris would have to get his last one wrong as well. But, to your horror, his answer was perfectly correct.

“I bet you underestimated me, huh?” Chris taunted as he began packing up his backpack. Shaking your head, you pulled your exasperated body up, collecting your own study supplies. “I guess I did.” You replied sheepishly, and without even looking you could feel Chris lean towards you. “You should never underestimate me.” He whispered, causing shivers to crawl down your spine. Then, his mood suddenly shifted back to his previous giddiness as he slung his backpack onto one shoulder. “So, text me your address. I’ll pick you up around 9:00 and we’ll walk to the party together, sound good?” Chris’s voice was so sickly sweet, riddled with excitement at the expense of both your shattered ego and distaste for your sudden plans. With a huff, you begin walking with him towards the library exit. “Sounds great.” You replied, your words filled with sarcasm and resentment.

𓆩♡𓆪

“Just a second!” You called, your voice shrill and panicked, as you scrambled around your apartment trying to do up your black corset while running to answer the door. Groaning, you momentarily give up on the corset and use one hand to hold it together in the back while you opened the front door. “Sorry, I just need another minute to get this damn top on.” You muttered in frustration, skipping over any greeting with Chris standing at the door. You turned around immediately, leaving the door open for him to enter as you walked into your bedroom and stood in front of you mirror.

Chris chuckled as he stepped into your apartment and followed you into your bedroom. “Having some trouble there?” He teased, nudging his chin to your undone top. You huffed as he leaned against your bedroom doorframe, crossing his arms as he took great pleasure in watching you struggle with your top.

“This thing is fucking impossible to put on!” You exclaimed, contorting your body into unflattering positions in an attempt to see what you were doing as you worked at clipping up one of the many clasps. Your eyes fell to your clock, noticing that it was exactly 9:00. “I’m sorry Chris, are we gonna be late?” You asked as you continued to struggle with your top.

“It’s a party, Y/n,” Chris began, pushing himself off from the doorframe and walking towards you. “We can’t be ‘late’.” Without asking for permission, Chris mindlessly walked up behind you to begin helping with your fussy corset. You stilled as you felt his cold knuckles brush against your spine as his fingers expertly maneuvered the stubborn clips into place. “Thank you.” You managed to whisper, even though your mouth had suddenly grown bone dry.

Once he fastened the last clip, Chris took a moment to step back and check over his work. Nodding in approval, you watched him through the mirror as his eyes drifted along your entire outfit. “Damn. I didn’t think you even owned anything like this.” He laughed, locking eyes with you in the mirror. You took a moment of your own to look at the lacy black corset and black mini skirt covering your body, and mirrored his laugh.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been dragged to a party, you know.” Chris made a cheeky face at you through the mirror. “Dragged is a crazy word. I prefer to think of it as you finally allowing yourself to spend your Friday night like a normal 21 year old college student.” You turned away from the mirror and rolled your eyes, reaching for your purse on the bed to make sure you had everything in it that you might need tonight. Chris chuckled as you began stuffing your purse with your lip combo and perfume of the night, and suddenly you felt the heat of his body behind you as he stepped closer to you. “You know, we can blow off this party if you really don’t want to go.”

You let out a soft gasp and your eyes fluttered shut at his warm whispers in your ear. His mouth lingered just inches from your ear as he waited for a response, but confusion washed over your body like lava. After what could have possibly been too long of an unbearable silence, you broke it by laughing dryly. “Yeah yeah, but I lost the bet…remember?” While you tried to keep your voice steady, you winced at how weak your words came out. Chris laughed softly, his breath warming your skin deliciously. “Ah yes, the bet.” He replied, his voice much lower than it had been before. You shivered as you felt his thumb trail softly down your bare arm. “We better get going then.”

You took a deep breath before turning around to face him. Looking up at him through your false eyelashes, you took a moment to examine his curious expression. His eyes looked soft as they glimmered in the dim lighting of your bedroom, but there was a barely distinguishable tension in his jaw — as though he was clenching his teeth in discomfort or strain — as he stared down at you. “Okay.” You finally replied, your voice a hoarse whisper.

You suddenly felt chilled as Chris’s body moved away from yours, and were completely shocked by the wave of disappointment that crashed through your system. As Chris helped you slip on your black jacket and you both walked out of your apartment and towards the party, you couldn’t help but ask yourself: what would have happened if you took the option not to go to the party?

It was a short walk to the house party, but by the time you and Chris walked up to the front door, you were beginning to grow squirrelly with nerves. It had been a long time since you had gone to a party, and you were sure that you had never been at this particular house before. As if he was reading your mind, Chris nudged your shoulder softly. “Hey, it’ll be fun,” You turned to look at him, giving him a weak smile. He leaned in closer to your ear, as if he was preparing to tell you a secret. “This is actually my place, so you’re already tight with the host.” You looked at him, slightly shocked that the party was at his home yet he chose to meet you at your place first, but it did calm your nerves slightly.

That changed as soon as Chris opened the front door. Immediately, you were met by a throng of unfamiliar people scattered throughout the house, loud music blaring, and scattered beer bottles and solo cups along the floor. After shooting you a reassuring look, Chris led you up the stairs to the main part of his home; filled with even more people and even more mess. A handful of people walked up to Chris in greeting, and you felt like an invader of the party; even though Chris made sure to introduce you to everyone he was talking to.

Just when you were about to ask Chris to show you where the washroom was — in which you planned to spend the rest of this horrifying night in hiding — you heard your name get called over the incessant chatter. Turning your head in the direction of the living room, you noticed three of your best friends on the couch, smiling and waving their hands in your direction. “You bitch! Why didn’t you tell us you were coming out?”

You felt the weight of humiliation and awkwardness lift off of you, and you shot them a warm smile before turning to Chris. Noticing your friends, he tilted his head in their direction and smiled kindly down at you. “Go ahead, I’ll find you later.” With a childish giggle, you squeezed his arm as a gentle sign of appreciation before quickly scampering off to your friends on the couch.

𓆩♡𓆪

After giving your friends a detailed explanation of how you ended up at the party — and after drinking more than your fair share of beer — you had melted into a state of bliss that was nearly unrecognizable to you. Never before had you truly enjoyed yourself at a party, yet at that very moment, it felt as though you were morphing into a completely different person; one much more confident and certainly more relaxed.That definitely had to do with the liquor burning through your veins, and maybe even the fact that a certain pair of blue eyes had been planted on you the whole night.

Laughing at something one of your friends’ said, your eyes traveled across the room and locked onto Chris’s from his place in the kitchen. You watched as a smirk pulled at the corner of his pink lips before he curled two fingers in the air; subtly calling you over. “I’ll be back in a bit.” You said to your friends before pulling your body — heavy from the alcohol — off of the couch and walking over to Chris at the kitchen counter.

He watched you, his head tilted ever so slightly as if he was studying you, as you approached him. You realized in that moment just how warm your cheeks felt as you finally reached him, standing just inches from his leaning frame. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say it looks like you’re having a bit of fun over there.” He said, his voice laced with amusement. You made an attempt at rolling your eyes. “Alcohol can make anything fun.” You replied, feeling too stubborn to admit that your night was going much better than you had expected. Chris straightened up and turned to the counter where he grabbed a bottle of tequila and began filling up two shot glasses. “Well in that case, I think you should take a shot with me.”

You smiled and stayed silent as you watched him pour the liquid into the small glasses. You couldn’t help but admire his side profile as his long eyelashes framed his slightly reddened eyes, and his teeth bit down on his lower lip in concentration. Even with your blurred vision, you could see the faint sprinkle of freckles along the soft slope of his nose, and appreciated the soft flush of baby pink — no doubt a gift granted to you by his consumption of alcohol — along his cheeks.

You snapped out of it once he turned back to face you, holding out a shot — noticeably less full than the one in his other hand — for you to grab. You obliged, and held it up in a cheers with him before you both tilted your heads back, wincing at the familiar burn as the tequila slid down your throat. “Lime.” You cried out, your voice hoarse from the liquor, and rather quickly Chris grabbed a pre-cut lime wedge out of a bowl and brought it to your lips. You opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around the slice; sucking the sour juice from it while looking up at Chris with a scrunched up face as you ignored the strange flutter in your stomach — a flutter that was most definitely not from the alcohol.

You pulled your eyes away from Chris as you plucked the lime out of your mouth. Hearing him chuckle, you looked back up at him. “Another?” He asked, holding up the bottle of Casa Migos. Regrettably, you nodded your head. “But do you have any salt?” You asked, to which Chris responded by immediately reaching over into a cabinet to his right. As he searched through the cabinet, your eyes fell onto his exposed neck typically hidden by his messy curls — his skin slightly glistening.

As he turned back to face you, a shaker of salt in his hand, you felt your mood suddenly shift into one filled with desire. Forcing a smile onto your face, you managed a small thank you. Noticing your change in mood, Chris’s eyes seemed to scan across your features for a moment in silence. “Lick the back of your hand.” He ordered, his voice low and slightly deeper than before. Instinctually, you brought your hand up to your mouth. But just as you were about to run your hand against your tongue, you were suddenly overcome with an urge — and with it, a wave of uncharacteristic confidence.

“Actually, can I do something?” You asked, looking up at Chris through your eyelashes. Your eyes fixed on his neck, and you watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed slightly. “Sure.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper. As the word left his mouth, you took the salt shaker from his hand and sprinkled some into your own open palm. “Fill the shot glasses.” You told him, and he immediately obliged. Looking back up at his face — his gorgeous features laced with confusion — you took one deep breath before moving closer to him, your bodies now so close that with each breath your chest brushed against his. His eyes were filled with shock at your sudden proximity, but he stayed perfectly still as he waited to see what you were going to do.

Slowly, so slowly, you brought your mouth to his neck before running your tongue along his creamy skin. As you did, a short gasp fell from his lips and you felt his body stiffen against you. Sticking to efficiency, you quickly pulled your tongue away before lacing your free hand through his curls; using your grip to tilt his head so that you could sprinkle the grains of salt against his wet skin. Pulling back, you caught a glimpse of Chris’s face — cheeks even more flushed and his eyes momentarily shut in bliss — before he looked down at you with uncertainty.

Untangling your hand from his hair, you reached for your shot on the counter and held it up. “Cheers.” You whispered, a small smirk tugging at your lips. Chris blinked a few times before picking up his own shot and clinking it against yours. His eyes stayed glued to yours as you both took your shots, and before the tequila had a chance to hit you with its after shock, you wrapped your lips around the patch of salt along his neck. Even in the loud room, you could swear you heard a soft moan fall from Chris lips, and you felt his pulse quicken against your mouth as you took your time licking away every grain of salt.

It wasn’t long before all of the salt had melted against your tongue, but still you continued to gently nibble and suck the delicate skin on his neck. As you did, Chris sucked in a sharp breath before gripping onto your ass tightly and pulling you against him. You released your own soft moan at the feeling of his large hand digging into your plush skin, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Jesus, Y/n.” Chris groaned. Against your front, you began to feel a fast-growing bulge press against you. Your mouth travelled tantalizingly slow against his skin, until you reached his ear. Grabbing his earlobe between your teeth and gently tugging on the soft skin, you whispered. “You should never underestimate me, either.”

At that, you heard an impressed chuckle. You pulled away from his skin and looked up at him, just inches from his soft lips. So close that you could feel his warm breath against your face, you began to feel intoxicated — not by the tequila, but by him. His hand stayed firmly planted on your ass, the tips of his fingers just barely whispering against your burning heat. The two of you seemed to find yourselves in some sort of stare down — neither of you moving closer to or away from the other — trying to gauge what the other wanted.

Finally, your eyes dropped to his glistening lips, and as if they had a magnetic pull you felt yourself inch closer and closer to them. Noticing this, Chris began pulling forward too, until you could feel his desire burning against your skin. Just as your lips brushed against his, you gasped for air before panting out: “Bedroom.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Chris grabbed onto your hand and began leading you to a set of stairs descending into the basement. You could hear your own pulse over the music as it began growing more distant when you both reached the bottom of the stairs. Once you reached a locked door, Chris began pounding against it urgently. “Get the fuck out of my room!” He called through the door, and as you heard the sound of panicked shuffling on the other side he turned to face you; his eyes exuding pure desire as he ran his thumb pad against your lower lip.

You jumped as the door suddenly burst open and watched as two undone people slipped past you both; actively avoiding eye contact. As soon as they passed you, Chris grabbed onto your waist and pulled you into the dimly lit room. Without even a moment to adjust to your surroundings, you gasped as Chris slammed you against the closed door and engulfed your open mouth with his own. You moaned at the feeling of his lips moulding to yours, bringing with them a relief to the tension that had been building between you all night.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, and you welcomed it with a gasp. You relished in the feeling of his tongue completely and utterly dominating not just your mouth, but your whole body, as you felt yourself weaken in between the wooden door and his towering frame. Your head began to spin at the unfamiliar yet intoxicating taste of his lips, just as you watched in awe as he dropped to his knees in front of you.

His eyes drilled into yours for a moment, as though he was checking to make sure you were okay with what he was about to do. When you knit your brows together and began sucking on your bottom lip — desperate for his touch — he shot you a cocky smirk before drawing his attention to what was in his direct line of sight. His hands slid from your waist down to your thighs, where he began massaging them slowly while simultaneously dropping wet kisses against your burning skin.

Reacting to this, you inadvertently spread your legs further apart. As you did, you felt his lips curl into a smile against your skin as he continued running his tongue against your inner thighs. While continuing to drive you crazy with his mouth, he brought his hands up to the zipper of your skirt. As he fiddled with with the metal, he spoke against your skin. “You want this?” A soft moan fell from your lips, eliciting a chuckle from his. “I need to hear you say it, baby.” He urged, causing your chest to rise and fall rapidly. “Y-yes.” You finally managed to reply, gasping for air as you did. At your response, Chris gently nibbled at the sensitive skin on your thigh, just below the end of your skirt, as he began sliding the black material down your legs. “Good girl.” He praised just as he let the skirt drop to your ankles.

Now with just your sheer panties between his warm mouth and the place you needed it the most, you began squirming as he took a moment to admire your barely-covered heat. He brought his hands up from their place on your thighs to the soft wisp of hair along your bikini line. You shivered in pleasure from his touch so close to where you were aching for him, and watched as his eyes seemed to grow enlivened by his view. “Didn’t expect you to be wearing something like this under that skirt.” He uttered, his voice thick with desire as he toyed with the sheer material. “What did I say about underestimating me?” You replied through your breathlessness.

With that, Chris looked up at you through his thick eyelashes, a smirk cemented into his face, before hooking his thumbs onto either side of your sheer thong and dragging it excruciatingly slow down your legs; until you were suddenly completely bare in front of him. As your pussy radiated desire just inches from his face, his smirk was replaced by one of agony; as if he was suddenly desperate to bury himself into its warmth. He grabbed both of your thighs, firmly pulling them further apart, before he ran his tongue slowly along your dripping slit; his eyes drilling into you as he did. You watched as a pool of your slippery arousal gathered on his tongue, and only once he swallowed your juices did his eyes flutter closed; officially losing himself.

You cried out as soon as his warm mouth wrapped around your pulsing clit, creating an infrangible suction that caused your hips to involuntarily buck into him. Chris moaned against your bundle of nerves, sheer enjoyment plastered to his softened expression, as you laced your thin fingers through his curly hair. “Jesus.” You moaned out incoherently, unable to form a genuine thought as Chris’s tongue worked you through shock waves of pleasure. He groaned against your pussy in response, his face completely buried in between your wet folds.

You gasped as you felt his finger begin to circle your hole, teasing your entrance as it begged him for more. Noticing your flexing walls and dripping arousal, Chris slipped two hooked fingers into your spongey cunt; pumping them into you with vigour as his mouth continued to work against your throbbing clit. The room filled with the wet sounds of Chris’s fingers plunging into you, and you felt that familiar tension in your lower stomach begin to grow nearly unbearable. Your grip on his hair tightened, and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinding your slick heat against his eager mouth.

“F-fuck C-Chris, I — FUCK!” You struggled to speak as you began to lose control of your body, writhing under his hold on you as though you were trying to run from your impending orgasm. In response, Chris’s fingers began to pump into you even quicker, drawing a long moan from your lips. “It’s okay baby,” He reassured you against your clit, his voice an octave lower than usual, “Make a mess all over me.” Your back arched against the door, his encouraging words drawing you closer to your orgasm. Chris used his free hand to grab your thigh, lifting it off the ground and resting it on his shoulder; granting him access to pump his thick fingers even deeper into you.

As he pounded his fingers into your g-spot relentlessly, your body momentarily stilled as you were hit with white-hot pleasure. “Fuck!” You cried out as the waves began crashing into you, causing your body to now begin to convulse uncontrollably. Your nails dug into his scalp as you struggled to stay upright throughout your earth-shattering orgasm. Once he felt your walls begin to pulse around his fingers, he quickly slid them out; allowing you to ride through your high as his mouth began ardently drinking up your warm juices.

As soon as he noticed your moans begin to calm down, he lifted you off of your shaky legs and carried you to the bed. As he walked, he effortlessly undid the many clips on the back of your corset; freeing your full tits and wrapping his wet, swollen lips around one. As he swirled his tongue around your pebbled nipple, he gently laid you down along the edge of his large bed. With a pop he pulled his mouth off of your tit before heedlessly unbuckling his pants and slipping them down his legs, before doing the same with his boxers. You watched in awe as his cock sprung free, feeling that insatiable need grow even stronger deep inside of you.

“Need to feel that soaked fucking pussy wrapped around my cock so fucking bad.” Chris murmured, collecting the fast-growing arousal from your slit on his fingers before using the slippery fluid to stroke his member a few times. Leaning down, he drew your lips to his in a desperate and sloppy kiss, and as he did you felt the girth of his tip pressing incessantly against your dripping entrance. Groaning in anticipation, you writhed under his grip and wrapped your legs around his waist.

Unable to hold back, Chris released a guttural moan against your cheek as he suddenly slammed every inch of himself into you. You cried out in pleasure as his cock pumped into you hard and fast without giving you a moment to adjust to his size. His incessant groans and sharp breathing let you know how good your pussy felt as it enveloped his swollen shaft. “C-Chris y-you’re hu-uge!” You managed to cry out, your eyes bulging from your head as you felt your walls stretch to accommodate his size.

At that, Chris lifted his head from your cheek and dropped his eyes to watch your swollen pussy as his cock continued to pound into it. He brought a hand to your lower stomach, pressing down so that you could see the bulge that his cock was imprinting into it. With an arrogant smile on his lips, he looked back up to your fucked-out face. “You’re takin’ it so good, baby.” His words made your head spin, and you released a loud moan as you gripped onto his arms. Chris looked back down at where your pussy was swallowing his cock, and you watched his jaw go slack as he seemed to relish in the magnificent pleasure that the sight brought him.

“This pussy was fuckin’ made for me.” He groaned out, his voice low as though he was speaking to himself rather than you. Still, his obsession drew another wave of pleasure through your body, and you desperately wanted to see what he was seeing. With shaky limbs, you managed to lift your shoulders up, resting the weight of your upper body on your elbows. You gasped as you watched Chris’s thick cock disappear inside of you again and again; pulling ribbons of your arousal out on each thrust and spreading them along your inner thighs and his lower stomach.

Chris’s eyes lifted up to yours, where they stayed as he continued to pound into you. Suddenly, he brought a veiny hand to your throat; gently squeezing the sides as he bit on his lower lip. “You see how fuckin’ pretty your pussy looks milking my cock?” You let your eyes drop back to the place where your bodies met, entranced by the sight of your bright pink lips wrapping around his length. “If I died inside of you right now, I would die a happy fucking man.” He leaned forward and melted his soft lips to yours, kissing you so deeply that your head spun.

Chris’s pace began to slow; becoming much sloppier. Deep grunts fell from his lips as he dropped his forehead onto your collarbone where he placed wet, open mouthed kisses as he plunged up into your g-spot. “Fuuuuck.” He hissed, his breath warm against your clammy skin as he seemed to get caught up in how good he was feeling. “Chris.” You breathed, your brain turning to mush as you felt every inch of his cock slip through your walls at this new, excruciatingly slow, pace.

Suddenly, his movements completely stilled as he leaned over you and grabbed a pillow from the top of his bed. He straightened himself up on top of you, grabbing your waist and lifting it effortlessly as he slid the pillow under your lower back. Confused, you look up at him with knitted brows; your chest rising and falling. Noticing your un-asked question, Chris spoke. “I’m gonna cum in a minute,” He said, slowly beginning to slide in and out of you again. “And when I do, I wanna feel your pussy convulsing around me.”

With that, Chris pressed one hand firmly onto your lower stomach while using two fingers to spread apart the protective hood above your clit. With his other hand, he brought his thumb to your exposed clit and began rubbing it gently; relishing in the way your body flexed erotically each time he did. Your moans slipped past your lips in helpless squeaks, feeling overstimulated by Chris’s direct contact with your bundle of nerves in unison with the added pressure in your gut caused by his hand pressing against it. “G-god!” You cried out, grabbing onto both of Chris’s wrists as he continued working your clit and fucking you senseless; unsure of whether you were trying to pull his hands away or keep them exactly where they were.

Chris’s eyes stayed glued to your swollen clit, but his breathing grew more and more ragged as he quickly approached his orgasm. You could feel his cock swelling inside of you as he struggled to hold himself back. “Fuck,” He growled, his cheeks even more flushed than before, “Cum for me baby, please.” His voice broke at the end of his sentence, a clear sign that he was on the edge of losing control. You felt your own walls begin to crash down, sending you closer and closer to what was sure to be an earth-shattering orgasm. “P-please — a-almost there.” You whined, your back arching off of the bed as you began to feel as though you were being lit on fire.

Chris dropped his forehead onto your chest, being sure to keep his movements the same as he released soft moans against your skin. “Come on sweetheart.” He grunted as he thrusted up into you, running dangerously low on will-power, “Let me feel you cum for me.” The gritty desperation in his voice was enough to finally push you over the edge. As soon as he felt that first intense pulse reverberate through your walls, he finally allowed himself to lose all control. His hips began pounding into you incessantly as your legs tightened around his waist. Deep, brutish moans fell from his lips on each thrust as his thumb continued to rub against your clit.

“Jesus fuck!” You cried out, feeling the pressure that had been building in your stomach release as you squirted against Chris’s pelvis. As you did, Chris’s thrusts suddenly stilled, and while his thumb toyed with your clit, he released a guttural moan before you felt his warm fluid spill into your quivering pussy. His swollen cock pulsed in between your walls, and you moaned in unison with him as he began to rock himself in and out of you slowly; using your tight pussy to milk himself dry.

Once both you and him came back down to earth, Chris collapsed into your chest; laying there for a moment as you both struggled to catch your breath. Your hands fell onto Chris’s curly hair, which you ran your fingers through slowly as he drew small circles on your hip bone; both of you helping the other get back to their sober minds.

After a short while, Chris planted an affectionate kiss to your chest before lifting himself up. He pulled out of you slowly, his glazed eyes watching as his cum dripped out of you. You watched as he reached over the edge of the bed and grabbed his discarded t-shirt. After shooting you a charming smile, he gently grabbed your right thigh, spreading it slightly before using the soft material of the t-shirt to delicately wipe away the mess he had made of you. “You sore?” He asked, his voice gentle as he gazed up at you. You nodded, looking up at him with a smile as you leaned back on your elbows. “Nothing I can’t handle.” You added, sticking your tongue out cheekily.

“I am gonna need your help with the corset again before we head back upstairs, though.” You sighed, gesturing to the discarded pile of lace and buckles on the floor. Chris’s eyes followed to where you pointed. “Or…” He began, tugging at the edge of his comforter, “We could just stay down here?” Your eyes drifted up to his face, and you were met with a sheepish, tired smile. Feeling a wave of relief wash over you, you crawled to the top of the bed and curled under the warm blanket. “Thank God.” You muttered, earning another smile from Chris before he followed you into the sheets.

He pulled you into his arms, and you closed your eyes at the comforting feeling of the warmth emanating from his naked body. Exhaustion began to immediately overtake you, and you felt yourself grow heavy in his arms. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back up?” You asked, worried that he might just feel obligated to be there with you, “You’re gonna miss out on all the fun.” Your voice was now thick with sleep. Chris chuckled, squeezing you gently in his arms. “All the fun is right here. I told you, Y/n, my sixth sense never fails me.”

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

[heartsiebyul]

wait im back and have an actual request of my own lolls, can i geeettt

Twst characters with an s/o who likes to have things in their mouth, not in a sexual way but just to keep them occupied and "neutral" i guess... for example (🤓☝️) s/o having some chewable necklaces, pencils with alot of bite marks, and even if their dating Character they ask if they can chew on their fingers (I would also specially like Kalim but any other characters are up to you!) heh thats it :3 ☀️

Twisted Wonderland characters when their lover always needs to chew on something to stay calm and occupied.

(Featuring: Kalim, Ruggie, Jade, Ace, and Silver)

Kalim Al-Asim

“Huh? You wanna chew on my fingers?” Kalim asks, eyes wide with a mix of surprise and excitement. “That’s so funny—okay!”

He’s super into it. Not in a fetish way—he just loves that you’re being vulnerable and honest with him.

Starts ordering cute chewable jewelry for you in your favorite colors. “(name), I found this one shaped like a little sun! Isn’t it perfect for you?”

If you're sitting next to him, he’ll absentmindedly offer his hand. “Need something?” he whispers with a grin.

His fingers are always warm and soft because he wears so much jewelry. Sometimes he wiggles them just to make you laugh while they’re in your mouth.

Ruggie Bucchi

“Wait… you chew stuff? Like, on purpose?”

At first, Ruggie thinks it’s a nervous habit, but once he realizes it calms you, he kinda shrugs. “Eh, whatever works.”

He starts keeping spare straws, pencil toppers, or even gums in his bag for you. “Don’t be chewing up your expensive pens, (name). Chew this instead.”

If you ask to chew on his fingers, he goes bright red. “Wha—?! I mean… sure, I guess?? Just don’t bite me, jeez.”

Lowkey finds it endearing and starts offering his hand when he notices you getting antsy. “You want the usual? Go ahead. Just be gentle.”

Jade Leech

Jade’s eyes twinkle with that signature mischief. “How fascinating… So oral fixation helps you stay neutral?”

He’s more than happy to indulge you, but he’s going to analyze it like a biologist with a new creature.

“I suppose this gives ‘finger food’ a new meaning,” he teases, slipping his glove off slowly.

He experiments with giving you different textures to chew on, coral-inspired chew toys, smooth sea glass necklaces, even salted licorice from the Coral Sea.

If you get shy about the habit, he tilts your chin and says, “There’s nothing strange about it, (name). I rather enjoy being part of your comfort.”

Ace Trappola

“Hold on. You’re telling me… you asked to chew on my fingers?”

Cue blushing, flustered Ace short-circuiting. “That’s so weird. You’re weird. I like you anyway, though.”

Once he gets over the shock, he actually finds it funny and adorable. “Alright, come here, weirdo. Which one do you want today—pointer or pinkie?”

Starts leaving chewed-up pencil stubs in your bag just to mess with you. “Figured you’d need a fresh one.”

If you’re anxious or unfocused, he’ll just casually stick a lollipop in your mouth. “Don’t say I never take care of you.”

Silver

You: “Can I chew on your fingers for a bit?”

Silver: blinks slowly “…Sure.”

Doesn’t even question it. He accepts your habits like they’re part of your breathing pattern.

He has that soft, calm energy that makes it easy for you to relax. His hands are strong and clean, and he just lets you do your thing while he reads or rests.

Once he falls asleep, his hand might still be in your lap—and if you quietly start chewing again, he doesn’t even stir.

Later, “I had a dream you were chewing on my hand… Oh, it wasn’t a dream?” gentle chuckle

I hope I did good with this request 😭

[heartsongss]

two. news travels

masterlist

a/n. this fic does have a male love interest btw, he's just taking a minute to pull up!! also sorry this is short it'll get longer as the plot builds I pinky promise

You’re eating lunch. You attend Gotham Prep, like Damian and Duke. Despite that, you run in entirely different circles. Damian sticks close to two people, while Duke has a larger group. You sit next to the three other demigods that call Gotham home.

Elyse Alarie, a daughter of Demeter, Alec James, a son of Hypnos, and Jamie Brooks, son of Dionysus. Mr. D and Chiron had pulled some strings (used the mist) to get you all in the same school, and it’s one of the greatest things to ever happen to you.

Jamie tears into his soggy chicken tenders,  popping the pieces into his mouth as he analyzes you, “Why do you look like that?”

You narrow your (e/c) eyes at him, raising a single brow, “Like what?”

“Like you’re going to shit.”

Alec groans, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes, “Be so serious.”

You roll your eyes, taking a bite of a fry, “It’s happening next week.”

They all blink at you, Elyse saying, “What?”

You sigh, “It. Y’know, happens once a year?

Jamie gets it first, saying, “Oh. Oh! Already?”

You nod, slumping over, “We’re so cooked.”

Elyse nods, stealing a fry, “Especially considering they’re telling the Justice League.”

You freeze. Your fry flops pathetically from your hands into the ketchup, slowly drowning in the thick red condiment as you stare blankly at your friend. Elyse is blissfully unaware of how she just ruined your life, and is more concerned with the state of your french fry, pulling your tray over to her so she can fish it out with another fry.

“They’re telling the League?” You ask, eyes wide as your hands shift, clenching the table tightly.

Alec looks to you, “Yeah, did camp not tell you?”

Jamie elbows him, “Dude! Be sensitive, they don’t talk to camp much, anymore.”

Alec apologizes as you wave him off, slumping forward, “The bats are going to be involved, then…”

Elyse perks up, “Oh! I didn’t even think of that!”

“It’ll make it easier. Last month, Signal saw me stab an empousa and we made eye contact for like… three seconds before I put him to sleep,” Alec complains.

Jamie pats him on the back roughly, laughing at him.

Elyse rolls her eyes as she slides the tray back to you, and you stop it with your hand. You eat another fry as you listen to your friends talk, your brows furrowed nervously.

This is bad. The cull is bad enough, with the uncertainty of which demigods won’t sell you out. That entire weekend would be spent watching your back, hands tight on your sword until every other demigod left the city bounds. Now, though, you’re faced with the startling realization that your lives are about to collide.

Batman is a part of the Justice League. As one of the demigods participating in the cull in his damn city, he’ll have to know about you. He’ll see you. Maybe he won’t recognize you? You keep your head down at dinner, you don’t make eye contact with any of them. As long as you don’t draw their attention, you might get away with it.

You might stay out of their eyes… invisible, alone.

Invisibility is safety. If they don’t notice you, they can’t catch you. Can’t kill you. Can’t take you. Your eyes drift over to Damian, and then to Duke. You chew on your lip, a frown on your face as you watch your ‘brothers’. Just for a moment, you beg for them to look at you.

They don’t. They never fucking do.

(Damian’s eyes flicker to you, for just a moment.  He knows who you are, vaguely, and for a second, he sees something on you. Something on your cheek. Duke watches you for longer, eyes squinted as he looks at you. You’re familiar. Like calls to like.)

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Every time you see them that night is spent shooting them sly, quick looks. You scan their faces for hints of knowledge, anything pointing to them knowing what you are.

It scares you. It’s one thing to be a demigod, to have divinity for a Mother. You’re intrinsically different, built in a manner that defies the human anatomy. More machination than human, you are. Your mom certainly tried to prevent that, plying you with love and care, but she died.

She died, and you spent more company with her ghost, and the flighty goddess you call Mother than your father. You have Alfred, at least. He’s willing to bandage your cuts, pressing gentle kisses to the split skin and placating you with kind words.

You love Alfred, and you know he loves you. Despite all that love, he’s your father’s, before he’s yours. He, and the children he notices, will always take priority. Besides, you’re a mature kid. You can handle it, right? You can be alone, staring at your scarred face.

You sigh to yourself. You still haven’t seen anything in their eyes, so you assume they haven’t been told yet. Yet is important, because you know it’s coming. One day, you’ll get home from school and they’ll be there, wariness in their eyes. They’ll stare you down, and you will know.

Another place where you aren’t safe. Gotham will become the wolves’ den, sharp teeth doomed to dig into your flesh, tearing your wings until you are downed and doomed for death. Left for the monsters to nip at your body or to be dragged from Gotham into a cage; golden and glittering, but still a cage. Always a cage.

You consider it, for a moment. Your family won’t kill you. They’re strict in their rules, following their morals to the grave. They won’t kill you, but they won’t keep you. They barely see you as it is. It’ll be easy for them to make you leave, and then Gotham will take you. No matter what, you will end up abandoned.

You clench your fists. In the hallway, far from the main wing, you stand still. Closing your eyes, you hear that no one’s there, not as far as you can hear. You lean against the wall, sighing deeply as you stare at the floor. You’ll be okay.

You’re (Y/N) fucking (L/N). Sure, it’s legally Wayne, but that doesn’t matter. Your life didn’t end when Silena died, or when you turned eighteen. It’s not going to end when your family finds out what you are. You’ll push through, and you’ll be better.

You have to.

[mtsyik]

Bathroom break

~》 Pairing: shoto todoroki x reader

~》 working the night/ early shift at your local bakery seemed like a dream that came true. You didn't assume that another dream of yours, meeting a cute pro hero, would also come true.

The streets are quiet, the sky is still dark, and the piles upon piles of bread in the wooden ovens are baking in the back of the bakery. You wipe some of the remaining flour on your apron off of you, sighing as you start to organize the clutter in the kitchen. The aroma of the bread together with the cookies you made earlier makes the atmosphere serene, and you hum to a song that has been stuck to your head as you make your way to the front of the shop.

The clock beside you ticks as the bird the inside emerges at the 12 o clock mark. You're startled and let out a yelp as you check your watch for the actual time, 5:03. You really ought to fix that damn clock. You are then awfully reminded of your bladder and how full it is, and you clench your legs to relieve some of the pressure. Why did you drink so much water to begin with?

You move instead to neatly arrange the cookies and pastries in the showcase, moving with grace (almost dropping a dozen cookies on the flour covered floor and grabbing the tray at the last second).

You check your watch again and groan at the fact that you still have 50 minutes until your coworker arrives, meaning your bathroom break has to be pushed back by a lot. You spend your time double and triple checking all the baked goods from the showcase, sweeping some flour from the floor and from the counter, and sitting and enjoying the brown paints of the shop. The hardwood floors are by far your favorite feature you decide, and the vintage lambs that emit yellow light at each side of the small couch on the far left of the bakery. You observe these things to pass your time more easily; trying not to be on your phone this early in the morning. You move to reach a blueberry cupcake to chew on while you wait; the blue jello from its top making your mouth water as you bring it in closer to your awaiting mouth.

Suddenly, the bell from the door rings.

You are surprised to see someone up at this hour. You are even more surprised when a familiar but unknown stranger walks in your bakery, with stained clothes from battle and faint scratches on his body. His white and red hair mixed as the strands are in disarray from fighting some villain you presume; as handsome as he looks on the cover of the magazine you have laying somewhere in your apartment.

Having just finished patrol, Shoto couldn't help but be overwhelmed at the captivating aroma of baked goods when walking down the street. He looked a mess; uniform raggedy and tragic, hair tousled and fingertips covered in dirt. The tiredness in his bones made it easy to forget his physical appearance for a second, deciding on fulfilling his empty stomach instead, until he spots you.

Holding a blueberry pastry upside down, (probably to keep it from falling) the blue paste smothering your hands and staining them with jello. Streaks of flour on your cheek and forehead, your hair neatly out of your face save from a few strands that managed to escape. Your apron screamed messy, multiple strains of blue, red and white fillings, together with flour and what he presumed to be cocoa. He couldn't decide which one of you was more disastrous looking right now.

He could decide which one was prettier than any other woman he had seen, though.

"Um, hi" you mumble, a sweet smile on your face as he makes his way to you. You gulp nervously when the pro hero doesn't take his eyes off of you for a second, analyzing you as if you were some villain he had to capture. You try your best to discreetly clench your legs together, your bladder screaming at you in protest. You put on your best smile to pretend that nothing is bothering you, and wipe your hands on a napkin to remove the blue jello from them from the cupcake that fell right out of your hands from the ringing of the bell.

"Hello. what's that?" He says in a timid fashion, his eyes boring into the red velvet pastry on the very back of the showcase. You giggle a little, mostly from anxiety and point to the pastry while explaining its filling. You do the same for every other pastry, even though he didn't ask you to.

"And that's carrot cake, but with a twist! The cinnamon on in- oh" you stop abruptly from his intense stare on you, a small smile on his face as if wanting to laugh at your antics. You realize how you look right now; messy from the hours of preparation, gesturing with your hands at every little thing and clenching your legs together to not pee yourself right on the spot. Great. Amazing first impression.

"I think I'll go with the red velvet one." He says in a monotonous voice, his words dripping with honey from the rich timber of his voice. You think you could just melt from that alone. Instead, you purse your lips in an attempt to save face as your cheeks flare up, and bag up the pastry. After he pays he stops momentarily as you close the register and wipe off some sweat from your forehead.

"Are you alright?" He asks, and you almost lose your balance right then and there. You huff and puff, eyes shut as you lean against the counter.

"I uh, I just.. really need to go to the bathroom right now." You wheez out, as an attempt to laugh to humor your demise.

"Why don't you... go?" Shoto seems uncertain on his choice of words, not wanting to offend you with them.

"Uh, I would, but I'm alone. The bathroom is all the way in the back, if uh, if someone came in they could, y'know..."

You ramble on, your cheeks flaring up even more as his heterochromatic eyes settle on you and his mouth shapes into an 'o'.

"Okay." He says and stands still. His arms resting at his pockets as he turns his back on you and leans against the counter, his stare up ahead at the door.

You blink, not knowing how to respond at his sudden change. Your eyebrows furrow as he checks you over his shoulder. "I'll stay until you go." And looks at the front again.

You blink back your surprise, your hand reaching out in a stopping motion. "No- uh it's fine, I don't want to keep you waiting-"

He looks at you again then, and you gulp. His expression is calm and collected, and he nods at you. "I don't mind."

You bite back your tongue at that, wanting to refuse to save some of your pride, but instead you yell out a thank you! From the hall as you speed walk your way to the bathroom. You try to be as quick as possible, not wanting to keep him waiting for long.

Shoto has no problem waiting, his eyes scanning and observing every small crevice of the shop. The colors are warm and inviting; a pallet of warm and brown pastels mixing with each other under the yellow lighting. The bakery is decorated with vintage lamps and an awfully old couch that gives a nice homey feeling about the entire situation. Not that the lumpy couch or the warm lighting was the thing that would invite him inside every single time. That would be you.

He keeps his promise and waits for you to come back, his stare on you as he hears your footsteps coming in close. You're wiping your hands on a towel, cheek and forehead free of flour and hair a little less messier; you fixed yourself in the mirror. You sigh as you lean against the counter, gratitude coming to you is waves as he removes himself from where he was leaning and turning to face you.

"Thank you. God that is embarrassing." You mumble with a chuckle as you smile widely at the floor, your hand cradling your cheeks. Shoto nods and grabs his pastry before heading out the door. You stare dumbfounded at it, daydreaming about the handsome stranger -was he even a stranger now- that helped you in the most stupid way imaginable. You laugh genuinely at the absurdity of it, a pro hero saving your ass from- your bladder exploding?

Your eyes snap open when the clock ticks loudly again, breaking you out of your daze. The sun has started to come up, and after some time, so does your coworker.

"Goodmorning! Alright, I am here! You can go to the bathroom now!" Asuka yells the minute she opens the door, expecting you to dash towards the hallway the minute she does so like you usually do.

"Already been," you reply, a small smile on your face as you move the red velvet pasties to the front of the showcase.

The next day, your morning starts like any other. Open up the bakery, start on the baked goods, and set up the showcase. You tend to make quite the mess when you bake (something Asuka finds deeply endearing. You find it annoying because you have to clean up after), so you've added sweeping to the list of things to do when you're opening.

You hum along to the crack of the radio, a soft jazz song playing on the old speakers, making the music brass, and almost nostalgic like. Just the way you like it. Your apron is sitting prettily on your waist and your hair swaying back and forth from the French braids you've done this morning, somehow having woken up with rather excited. Oh, well. The bags of corn flour are to be delivered today, that's probably why. Not the 2 meter tall, handsome guy hero that helped you yesterday.

Nope. Definitely not him.

Your heart jumps at your throat from the coo cooing of the stupid bird emerging from the broken clock, and your broom almost hits the floor, your hand reaching out to grasp unto it. You are a second too late, and you close your eyes as if to wipe out the loud plop! That will sound all over the bakery when a hand interrupts you. Shoto grabs the broom and sets it down as soon as you open your eyes, your irises widening and your mouth forming a small greeting as you take him in.

The entire night went horribly. His patrol had taken on the entire city, it seemed like, with him only being able to be at one place at a time. Multiple robberies and petty thieves emerging from nowhere, stupid calls about cats being stuck on trees and yo-yo's being stuck underneath cars. The disaster of the night had weighted heavy on Shoto's shoulders. Every step he took was another added burden; hs hair was filled with leaves, his cheek and arm stained with dirt, and you spotted numerous scratches on his forearms (probably the resistance of said cats).

And now, under the yellow lights, being close to you, with your hair neatly swaying and your eyed wide from embarrassment, he thinks he looks hideous.

You think he looks gorgeous, even like this. And quite cute. You could eat him up right out of a spoon if it were given to you.

"Hello. Are you well?" He asks, his voice rich of timbers as it shakes something well nested inside of you. Shoto himself winces at his choice of words, knowing that whenever he felt flushed he started to sound like a robot.

You smile sweetly at him, reassuring him you're okay before moving to grab the broom out of his hands with a polite bow to make your way behind the counter. You gulp down nervously some sips from the water bottle you have on stand by, and look at him with a bright (but very pink) face.

"I assume you liked the pastry from yesterday, y'know- because you're here...today?" You stumble out, your hands raising in an expressive manner as you try to figure out what exactly you want to say. You think this encounter is awful, just as awkward as the other day, but the easy grin that Shoto has on his face melts any doubts.

"Um- figured I'd try that carrot cake twist you were telling me about? With the cinnamon?"

Your eyes almost budge out of their sockets as you recall the memories from yesterday, remembering the vocal diarrhea that had spurred out of your mouth. Your heart hammers a little in your chest though, at the fact that he was listening to you.

"Sure thing!" You yelp out as you move carefully to bag the pastry and serve it to him. He reaches for something to pay, but is stopped by you.

"No, it's fine. You helped with the- uh- broom." You nod, more to reassure yourself than him as he blinks at you with surprise.

"By...grabbing it?" He questions you, and you think you could just eradicate yourself from existence from his gaze.

"Well, yeah." You mutter, as monotone as him. You both stay silent for a beat longer than you have to, and you see him hesitate as he eye's the pastry. You sigh as you reach over the counter and slide it to him.

"It's rude not to accept a kind gesture." You say with a teasing tone, but Shoto seems to be taking you seriously. He grabs the pastry, and you turn around to continue sweeping. You notice him standing right where he was though.

"Uhhh"

"What's your name?" He asks, as if it's the most casual question ever. Well, it is.

"I'm Shoto Todoroki." He adds after you introduce yourself, and you giggle.

"Yeah, I know." You say with a smile, but the immediate frown on his face makes you stop.

"Not that I uh- I mean I've heard about you. Handsome hero swinging around, saving everyone. " you bite back your tongue, slap yourself on your knee as you stare into your right to distract yourself from him. You feel your cheeks burning up from your silent (rather loud) confession and let out a low whistle.

"I don't...swing." He mumbles, mostly to himself.

You blink, looking at him with a silly expression while your body was still turned against him. You turn quickly and face him completely, matching his tone as you explain.

"It's a figure of speech. I- I didn't mean it like that, " you say with a small grin on your face. This entire interaction is downright adorable in your eyes.

He mumbles an oh, his eyebrows shooting slightly up as he glances at the counter. You cover your mouth with your hand to hide your giggles, not wanting to embarrass him.

At that moment, with the yellow lighting casting an ethereal glow on your tied back hair, the sparkle in your eyes, together with the sound of your laughter convinced Shoto that if he had to relive this entire day for the rest of his life, only to be able to hear and see you laugh like this, he would do it in a heartbeat.

He cleared his throat as he watched your eyes slightly widen, probably from the red in his cheeks-

"You're um- you're burning!"

At that moment, the faint smell of burned hair reached Shoto, and he instinctivaly reached for his left side to try to pat out the fire.

You were panicking, almost reaching for your cup to dump water on him as he put the fire out in his hair. One moment, he was looking at you; the next, he was on fire. Literally

"Thank you," shoto says hurriedly, bowing at a near 90° angle before making his exit from the shop. You stand there frozen, cup in hand with the motion of throwing it at someone rather than attempting to help somebody.

The loud clock ticks and startles you, making you actually drop your cup filled with water on your apron and on the floor. You yelp and a few cuss words ring out of you from the sudden action. Not being able to believe what has happened in the span of a couple of minutes. You sigh loudly, biting your lip as you scan the shop.

Had he been...flustered?

"Girl you won't believe who just walked out of our shop and- whoa." Asuka stops in her tracks as she makes her way behind the counter, witnessing you drenched with water from the waist down. She lets out a low whistle while grinning.

"Guessing he didn't stick around for you to pee this time, huh?"

"Shut up."

[zuzu-draws]

So after the spoilers for Chap 257 dropped, I saw some tweets clarifying the meaning of the Kanji Sukuna used in the chapter when referring to his mother, and the overall reveals in the chapter got me thinking.

I’m making this post as a way of gathering my thoughts, personal speculations and where I think all of this connects to Sukuna’s character and the information Gege has given us over the years. Nothing I say is by any means new information, but like I said, I’m just collecting my thoughts here. By the way, just a warning, this post contains SPOILERS for the JJK Manga! If you don’t like that, please don’t read this!

Something I’ve noticed is that the theme of “Hunger” and symbolism of “Cooking/Food” is heavily referenced with Sukuna throughout the Manga. Gege in a previous Fanbook has disclosed Sukuna’s favorite Hobby to be “Eating”.

This theme is again very much ingrained within Sukuna’s cursed techniques and even his Domain Expansion, the “Malevolent Shrine”. With his two main techniques being “Dismantle” and “Cleave” are cutting-type attacks. He is also able to use a Flame-Arrow, and Fire is essential for making Food. The Shrine in his Domain Expansion literally has mouths on all sides, looking eager to chew down anything in-front of them!

This symbolism also heavily influences Sukuna’s own manner of speech, and the way he speaks to other characters in the series as well. With his post-fight chat with Jogo before his death, Sukuna mentions Jogo lacking the “Hunger” to take control of his desires, preventing him from reaching the heights of Gojo Satoru. Before the Start of their fight in Shinjuku, Sukuna called Gojo a “Nameless Fish on top of his cutting board”, and that he was going to start by “Peeling off the scales”(refering to Gojo’s infinity). There’s also further symbolism that supports this by analyzing the Kanji and meaning of Sukuna’s “Malevolent Shrine” but I’m not very educated on that so I won’t be opening that point here.

What all of this points to is that Eating and Food……is extremely important to Sukuna, to the point that it literally affects him in manners innumerable.

Eating is an instinct, a necessity for the survival of every single living being.

And In the face of extreme Hunger and starvation, even those with the strongest will could lose their Humanity and revert to the basic animalistic side of their existence. (The Heian Period also had a Famine, although I believe the timing to be a bit off, but do with this info as you see fit)

In JJK Chapter 257, it is revealed to us that Sukuna and his Twin were most likely starving in the womb of their starving mother.

On the brink of starvation, Sukuna had to consume his “other self”(his twin), so that he could survive.

Btw, this tweet and this thread gives additional characterisation to Sukuna:

Link to the original thread: Link.

More context (and reactions :P):

Link to original thread: Here

This reveals to us that indeed, Sukuna was born a twin. And as we all know, “Twins” are seen with extreme scrutiny in Jujutsu Society, they’re not well liked. This too in a period where Cursed Spirits and Jujutsu Sorcery was at its peak, it is not far-fetched to assume that his Mother may not have been treated very well by the people in her surroundings, especially as she bore twins.

When Kashimo asks if Sukuna was born the Strongest or if he made himself the Strongest, this is the response Sukuna gave to him:

When you think about it, how do you think the people around them would have reacted when the woman: who was supposed to birth two twins, gave birth to a single child instead? and that child had consumed his other twin in the womb itself?

No doubt people would’ve been horrified, disgusted and even revulsed. With the woman and her newborn child.

This would’ve led to their further ostracisation in the already very close-minded society. Unable to fend for herself and her newborn child, it must’ve been difficult for Sukuna’s mother to survive. I feel like somewhere along the line, Sukuna was left alone to fend for himself at an extremely young age. To protect himself from both Curses and Society alike.

This is why I believe Sukuna knows what true starvation, weakness and hunger feels like. Both in the emotional and literal sense. He was left without another person caring about him or his well-being, in a cut-throat period where it was “Fight or be killed”.

Powerful curses roamed all across Japan, nowhere was safe. Simply be strong, or you'll die. There's no room for weakness. And initially, a kid!Sukuna was weak, as anyone would be in the beginning when they're just starting out in this world. (and maybe, he didn't have much to eat, leading to long periods of starvation? :') )

I believe it is this debilitating hunger, and feeling of weakness that eventually led to Sukuna’s current Hedonistic mindset.

He’s essentially traumatised by it, and believes that it was his own weakness that led him to experience this sheer starvation. That he deserved to feel this way because he was weak then. Perhaps, the people around him were right, that as long as they have the power and strength to overcome anything, they’re free to do as they please; And there is nothing anyone else could do about it.

I feel like the irony here is that Sukuna himself, must’ve been a “weakling” before eventually rising the ranks to become History’s Strongest Sorcerer. This is also why he values Strength so much.

Ultimately, Sukuna has decided that there was nothing more important than being strong enough to fulfill your own desires. And “eating” is one of his most important desires. It’s his favourite thing to do, the one he derives the most pleasure out of. And like an animal, whose main focus is to consume, consume and consume. He too, simply consumes.

Most morals likely have no meaning to him. He doesn’t care who he hurts, what he does, as long as he’s able to get what he wants. And this isn’t limited to eating.

This is why people referring to Sukuna as a “Natural Disaster” is so befitting of him. Because Natural Disasters also don’t care about what or who they’re destroying, they just come and go, wreaking havoc appropriate for their nature and magnitude.

I believe Sukuna himself has said lines similar in nature, when talking to Kashimo:

Now I’m not sure how Sukuna perceives or even experiences this “Love”, because I think he has a rather very warped idea of it. I do think that this definition of love is similar to the one that Gojo also understands, but I don’t think he knows what “love” truly is. I’m not sure how I could comment on this, but I do think that Sukuna’s emotionally starved, whether he realises that or not.

Because, like Kashimo himself asked Sukuna “What is the point of dividing your soul into 20 different parts and then traversing across time if you’re satisfied with this?” we do not know the answer to that yet.

But many people have speculated that “Black Box” panels in JJK manga represent a curse (either self-inflicted or put by someone) on the speaker. Like, take a look over here where Sukuna reiterates the same dialogue, except it looks like he’s trying to reassure himself:

This once again shows that Sukuna has only ever strived for himself, in the same hedonistic fashion, to a very very extreme degree. It is possible that he's been lacking something, and he himself does not realise that he’s lacking it. Maybe it was this subconscious feeling, that led to Sukuna agreeing to Kenjaku’s plan of dividing his soul into 20 different parts, and to traverse across time as a Cursed Object.

Sukuna’s an incredibly complex character, and I’m excited to see where this goes. Gege has put extra care in the way he characterizes and depicts Sukuna, and again, I’m really sad that a lot of that characterization gets lost in translation. Still, I’m going to try my best to understand and get the most accurate feel of his character as I possibly can.

If you made it this far, Thank you for reading! And if you would like, please do leave a comment in the tags or replies because I would love to read what other people think of this and just Sukuna in general. I do not see a lot of people doing critical analysis of him, and a lot of his actions are seemingly swept under the rug. I don’t like that, so hopefully this contributes to people focusing more on Sukuna and his character. (/^v^)/ <3

[the-most-humble-blog]

Humans: The Ultimate Flex—Suck It, Animals and Aliens

Proof We’re the Crown Jewel of Evolution (and Why No One Else Even Comes Close)

Let’s not sugarcoat it: humans are the GOAT species. We’ve got opposable thumbs, complex languages, and the ability to feel existential dread at 2 a.m. over a dumb thing we said in 7th grade. No other species—or hypothetical alien race—has anything on us.

Think I’m exaggerating? Let me prove it with some brain and logic magic that’ll make you want to high-five yourself. Animals? Aliens? They can sit down and take notes.

1. Opposable Thumbs: The OG Superpower

First, let’s talk thumbs. Most animals are stuck with paws, hooves, or tentacles. But humans? We have these magical little appendages that let us write novels, build cities, and scroll endlessly through TikTok.

What Makes Us Special: Our thumbs can touch every other finger, giving us precision grip. That’s why we’re holding smartphones while chimps are still throwing poop.

Think about it: If aliens show up without thumbs, we’re dominating the handshake game.

2. Pattern Recognition: Brain Magic Level 100

Your brain is basically a biological Sherlock Holmes.

You See Faces in Clouds: That’s pareidolia—a fancy way of saying your brain loves patterns so much, it creates them even when they don’t exist.

You Predict the Future: Well, kind of. Your brain analyzes past experiences to anticipate what’s coming next. That’s why you can dodge a falling object or, more importantly, guess the next plot twist in The Bachelor.

Here's a Thought: Meanwhile, a lion can’t even tell that the waterhole is a trap until it’s too late.

3. Language: The Ultimate Mic Drop

Other animals communicate, sure. Dolphins click, bees dance, and your cat meows at you for food. But humans? We’re dropping sonnets, memes, and political debates.

Infinite Combinations: With 26 letters (or however many your language has), we can create endless words and ideas.

Aliens Could Never: If they don’t show up speaking Shakespeare, are they even worth the hype?

Humble Brag: We’re so good at language, we invented emojis to make up for not having enough ways to roast each other.

4. Memory: A Blessing and a Curse

Your brain doesn’t just store information—it rewrites and replays it like a director’s cut of your life.

No Other Animal Remembers Like This: Elephants may never forget, but they’re not lying awake at night cringing over awkward trunk waves.

Your Mind Is a Time Machine: You can travel to the past (memories) and imagine the future (dreams). Animals? They live in the moment like some kind of zen monks.

Fun Flex: Humans can create fictional worlds better than reality. Ever see a dolphin write Game of Thrones? Didn’t think so.

5. Problem-Solving: We Literally Break Physics for Fun

No other species solves problems like we do.

Fire: We didn’t just discover it; we harnessed it.

Tools: We’re the only species that looked at a stick and thought, “Let’s kill something big with this and eat it.”

Space Travel: Meanwhile, most animals don’t even understand up and down.

Alien Diss: If they haven’t figured out intergalactic travel yet, are they really that advanced?

6. Humor: The Ultimate Sign of Intelligence

Here’s the big one: humans laugh.

Why It’s Special: Humor requires recognizing absurdity, connecting ideas, and delivering them with timing.

No Competition: Animals might look funny, but they’re not cracking jokes.

Weird Thought: If aliens can’t meme, do they even matter?

7. Consciousness: The Unbeatable Crown

You’re aware of yourself. You can ask questions like, “Why am I here?” and then immediately distract yourself with cat videos.

No Other Species Has This Level of Meta: Animals act on instinct. You can reflect on your actions—and cringe at them later.

We are our Brain: Sure, consciousness makes us anxious, but at least we’re not stuck chewing cud and staring at nothing.

Humanity Wins, Every Time

So, yeah. Are humans perfect? No. But are we leagues ahead of anything else on Earth—or in the universe (so far)? Hell yes. Our brains, thumbs, and ability to crack dark jokes about it all make us the species to beat.

Animals? Cute, but predictable. Aliens? Call us when they invent sarcasm. Until then, humanity reigns supreme.

Think humans are awesome? (Of course you do—you’re one of us.) Follow The Most Humble Blog for more unapologetic takes and hilariously sharp insights into why we’re the best.

[trendywaifus]

jane’s first morning with you | cw: none. gn! reader

— swear i tried to clean up!

jane stirrs, thin sheets rustling as her tired limbs stretch across the soft mattress. the scent she grew to love smells faint in her nose. instead, it’s replaced with a delicious smell of eggs, sausages, and. .blue berry pancakes? eyes flutter open to the morning glow seeping into the room. she lazily turns her head to her nightstand to check the clock. 7:30am. jane sits up with a yawn, stretching her arms over her head. “ this is a first. . “ she murmurs, sliding her legs off the bed and stands up. a nimble hand skims through fluffy onyx locks as she walks out of her bedroom and follows the smell.

for some reason, her usual empty home feels more lively and homey. the air feels warm and she feels like a kid walking to the kitchen for breakfast. jane stops at the doorway once she catches a glimpse of your figure pacing around the kitchen to prepare everything. there’s something warm hugging her heart, introducing to her a feeling she finally gets to experience; unadulterated endearment. jane was used to being alone, only having herself to take care of. although it’s weird to have another person in her home like this, the fact that that person is you makes it feel like everything is a perfect dream.

“ oh, jane! “ you throw her a quick smile as you put a fresh batch of pancakes onto a plate from a pan. “ sit at the table! i’m almost done with breakfast. “

she crossing her arms with a playful smirk. “ oh alright. though, i’m surprised you know how to cook, you never mentioned to me that you can. it smells good so far. are you making eggs, sausages, and blueberry pancakes? “ she inquire as she walks over to the rounded table in the small dining room and takes a seat in a chair. there’s already silverware waiting on the table for her.

“ you never asked, but yeah i do. “ you reply, sliding the eggs and sausages onto a separate plate with a spatula. “ and yup, you’re right. i wasn’t exactly sure about what a rat thiren’s diet was so i tried to make the breakfast simple and nutritious. is that fine? “

small amounts of blood rushes to her cheeks. jane chuckles and rests her chin on her opened palm. “ that’s totally fine. i don’t really have a consistent diet due to my workload anyways, sweetheart. “

you sighed, walking over to the refrigerator to pull out a cart of goat milk. “ goat milk. .huh. “ you mutter under your breath, analyzing the cart. jane’s ear wiggle as her smile grows an inch wider. “ well, i know and that’s going to change. the fact that you have a bunch of snacks and energy bars in your basement says enough. “ you grab an empty glass from a cabinet and pour a considerate amount of milk in it.

“ i mean, you don’t expect me to run around without my energy bars, right? i need my energy after all. “

“ hold your horses. i never said you couldn’t have them, i’m just saying i’ll cook you meals so you won’t need them as much, hun. “ you explained, grabbing the two plates and placed it in front of her. jane stares down at the breakfast meals. it smells very good and looks properly cooked. even the sausages are nicely sliced into pieces. the portion however, is a bit too much.

you hand her the glass of goat milk and some syrup with a quick kiss on the cheek and sat beside her. “ are you done cooking? “ jane suddenly asks, teal hues looking over at you.

“ i am, why? “ you answer back with confusion.

“ i’m the only one with breakfast in front of me. did you really cook this just for me? “ she asks again with curiosity behind her tone.

you nod your head, “ mhm. i only want to know how my cooking taste for you since again, i’ll be the one making you meals for now on. “

“ . . .i see. “ jane mutters, taken back by your genuine care for her. she grabs the fork and spoon and starts to eat the eggs and diced sausages first. a surprised hum leaves her lips as she chews. the eggs are cooked to perfection and the sausages are tender and chewy. “ judging by those wide doe eyes of yours, you like it so far? “ you smile brightly, absolutely overjoyed that she’s enjoying your cooking.

“ . .it is. the best thing i had in a while, sweetheart. thank you, seriously. “ jane swallows her food, looking at you with a smile full of adoration. is it possible to fall deeper in love with someone you already love? she wonders.

“ hehe, yeah? if you think that the eggs and sausage are good, you should try the pancakes! it’ll blow your mind like boom! “ you made a goofy boom gesture and jane nearly burst out laughing. she hopes most of her mornings will be like this with you. full of warmth and laughter. “ really now? i guess i should hurry up and try the pancakes then. “

jane grabs the knife and cuts through the fluffy pancakes like butter. before she can stab it with a fork, you stop it. “ wait, wait—lemme add syrup, you like syrup on your pancakes, right? “

“ hmm, i do. but i never tried this brand of syrup before. when i was “ working “ as a store manager of a grocery store, they have given me a surplus of goods. so some of these brands i’m not so familiar with. “

“ do you wanna try it then? “

“ sure, my dear. “

you take the syrup, open it up, and pour a nice amount of the thick liquid all over the blueberry pancakes. she pierce the pieces of pancakes with the fork and puts it into her mouth. explosions of delicious tastes floods her tastebuds as she chews. everything is practically melting on her tongue all at once. will you really be cooking something like this now for her? you watch her cheeks turn a darker shade of red, her turquoise eyes brightens with awe, both her tail and ears flutter.

“ now that’s a even better reaction coming from you—mmph? “

jane press her lips against yours in an unexpected kiss. the sweet taste of the sugary syrup and blueberry pancakes explores your tongue. chu! she pulls away after a few seconds, smiling smugly at the dumbfounded look on your face.

“ now that’s a way better reaction from you. how about you share this with me? it’s even more delicious if we eat together~ “

[tzuberry]

zerobaseone maknae line as tropes / cliches ૮ • ﻌ - ა

pairing shen quanrui (ricky), kim gyuvin, park gunwook, han yujin + gn reader⠀⠀⠀details fluff, slight angst in ricky’s and gunwook’s, bulletpoint and written

cw getting stood up, mention of lipstick use in ricky’s ⠀⠀⠀wc 738 696 604 802 respectively (2840 in total)⠀⠀⠀reading time 11 min

note title kinda misleading TBH... havent written on tumblr in a while, so this is a new account and my first post! im hoping this doesnt flop :( i loved writing this so much, so if it flops i might just repost it ... idk.. likes and reblogs are appreciated !!! (only if u want to ofc 🤞🏻)

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ricky 리키

blind date... but you got stood up, and ricky is your best friend

it’s not that you really wanted to go on a date, it’s that your friend assured you this was the perfect guy for you

and your friend swore, cross their heart, that you would not regret letting them set you up

but now you’re sitting at a table alone, with pitiful looks being thrown your way by the restaurant staff and the other groups of people around you and it’s clear to you; you do regret it, and this is the last time you’ll let anyone other than yourself handle your love life

after compulsorily buying a meal for yourself so as to not leave the place empty handed, you slowly chew on your food, wondering where it went wrong

did he see a picture of you and decided that was it? did he hear a story about you that was just unflattering? what was it about you that made them turn around and away from the restaurant—away from you?

in the midst of all this, your phone emits a ding! sound. you’re not doing anything important, so you see it fit to check the notification

ricky 😡🐱: how’s your date going?

terribly. but that’s a little embarrassing to admit, especially to ricky...

yn: good! i’ll text you later

you lay your phone down on the table and pick up your utensils once again to finish your meal, but a shadow casting over your plate interrupts you

“why are you alone, then?”

When you follow the voice (and the shadow), Ricky is standing next to your table, his phone in hand with the screen open on your text thread. He turns it off with a swift click of the power button, and he takes the space on the other side of the table where your date should have been.

You don’t know how to respond. You’re embarrassed; a second ago, you were alone at a restaurant filled with people, and now, your best friend has caught you lying to him about being at said restaurant alone.

“What happened?” Ricky asks as his arm makes its way across the table to your glass of water. He lifts it to his lips, taking a sip and placing it back down. He looks genuinely concerned, maybe even a little pissed, but all you can focus on is how your lipstick stain is on the rim of the cup, and how he drank from that same spot.

You shake your head. “I, um,” you pause, pursing your lips and trying to find a good enough (fake) reason. “Nothing. I didn’t like him, and he said he had other plans, so I just let him go.”

Ricky furrows his eyebrows at that. It’s a very visible sign of incredulity; he doesn’t believe your lie. Nevertheless, he simply shrugs it off. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

“Thanks, I guess,” you reply, still dealing with the aftereffects of being stood up. You poke your fork at the food before you; a lost appetite and an expensive meal don’t mix well.

Ricky leans forward, letting his forearms rest on the surface of the table. He’s looking at you so seriously, analyzing your every move. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, attempting to come off as teasing, but he only waves you off. “I just want to look at you.”

You feel yourself practically melt under his gaze, but you ignore it. This is Ricky, your best friend... nothing more. Right. This is Ricky—you should tell him the truth about why you’re alone.

“He didn’t come,” you admit. “I wasn’t super excited about this date, but I thought– I thought I would at least go on a date. This is... nothing. I was here by myself before you got here.”

There’s a pained glint in his eyes. Is he feeling sorry for you? Maybe you do deserve all the pity you’ve gotten today. He gulps, keeping eye contact with you while biting on a small portion of his bottom lip.

After a while, he sighs. “Come on.”

Ricky begins to stand up, stuffing his phone into his pocket before you hold him back by the wrist. “What?” you question.

“We’ll go do something else,” he says with a bob of his head. Your grasp on his wrist somehow turns into your hands being interlocked. “Let me take you on a date. I’ve always wanted to, and I promise I won’t screw it up.”

gyuvin 규빈

boy next door who you’ve always had feelings for, you just never thought of him liking you back

you’ve always liked kim gyuvin

from the moment his family moved in next to your house, with his bedroom parallel to yours

you could see everything through his window; who he was, what his hobbies were, what he admired, and how he acted with his friends

this all made him seem... unattainable. you felt like you were the audience for a show, and gyuvin was the actor

it didn’t help that you went to the same school, and to further that, he was immensely popular

it was obvious. how could you expect that someone like him wouldn’t be? he’s tall, cute, extroverted, funny and kind—the entire package, if you would say so yourself

you weren’t totally unpopular. you had your fair share of friends, a few social circles that you hung out with. but gyuvin seemed too out of reach for you, even if he was your neighbor

the singular interaction you’ve had was when he came over to ask for sugar. it went like this: “hi!” “hi?” “i was baking, and i kind of ran out of brown sugar. do you maybe... uh...” “oh, sugar? wait, i think i do, hold on.”

it was that awkward. so when your mother told you she became new friends with gyuvin’s mom and wanted to have dinner at their house as a family, you freaked

but it’s not like you can say no, so you found yourself at the kims’ door a few days later

“Hi! You must be [Name]. I’ve seen you around, and I’ve heard about you from Gyuvin, but you’re much prettier up close! I know who you get your looks from,” Mrs Kim says, winking at your mother.

“You’re too kind, your son is very polite, and...”

You tune their conversation out—did she say she’s heard about you from Gyuvin? Why would he be talking about you?

Your mom finishes it (whatever she was talking about) off with, “They’d be perfect together, don’t you think?” Mrs Kim nods vigorously, then pats you twice on the shoulder. “[Name], maybe you would want to go spend some time with Gyuvin first? I’m afraid dinner isn’t ready, there’s still a long way... I’ll call you both down when it is. He’s up in his room.”

You bow, excusing yourself and obligingly treading up the stairs. This is the second time you’re about to interact with him—you better not mess up.

On the final step of the staircase, you start to hear talking from one of the bedrooms. From where you stand, it’s not clear where its origin is, and so you try to listen for the voice. It leads you to a slightly open door, and holy shit—this is Gyuvin’s door.

“They’re coming over today, and, ugh, I don’t know,” he rants. Is that about you? It has to be. Who else is coming over? You move closer to the door frame, nearly peeking your head in. “I just– I don’t know how to talk to them! Last time, I went over to ask if they wanted to hang out and...” he trails off, the regret evident in his tone. “I asked for sugar. To bake.” Oh my god. This is about you.

You take another step, risking the possibility of the door creaking. “I don’t even bake! I came home with sugar and my mom asked why and I just said I found some on the street.” He sighs, exasperated. You inch even closer, toying with the chances of him catching you eavesdropping, when... creak. At the same time, Gyuvin’s rant is cut short. “Gunwook, you have to help me, I can’t be an idiot in front of them–”

His head snaps towards the door, where you are, standing and staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. He quickly hangs up, bidding Gunwook a hushed goodbye through the microphone. “How much of that did you hear?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, flattered and shy at the same time. “I think... all of it.”

Gyuvin’s hand raises to cup his nape, and he gives you the most endearing yet bashful smile. “Would you, maybe, um, wanna hang out sometime? With me, of course...”

gunwook 건욱

friends to lovers, and everyone is sure you both like each other but all you do is deny it

you know gunwook like the back of your hand

although you met a little over a year ago, he quickly became a constant in your life, especially because you saw him everyday at school

he would wait outside your class, eat lunch with you, walk you home (and sometimes to school in the mornings), help you with homework even though he’s always busy with all the extracurriculars he participates in, and additionally schedules weekly study sessions together

this led countless people to think you were dating, even though you’re really not

you deny it, making a gesture with your hands indicating the negative. “we’re just friends, he would never be my boyfriend,” you laugh it off. gunwook tenses up, and the corners of his lips suddenly become downturned. “yeah, we’re just friends...” he agrees, sounding somewhat unsure

that’s what happens every single time someone mistakes you for a couple. you’re the first to refuse that assumption, while gunwook just follows your lead

you thought, “hey, maybe he’s just shy around the topic of dating.” and so you don’t push it, or even ask about what he thinks of the rumors surrounding you two

at this week’s study session, which he scheduled at his house, he can’t focus

repeatedly tapping his pen and running his fingers through his hair—doing anything but his homework, really—he doesn’t even spare you a glance

and so you take the responsibility upon yourself to ask. “is something bothering you?”

Gunwook sighs, looking as if he’s internally debating the pros and cons of unloading his baggage onto you. His eyes dart around his room, from the door, to the desk, to the bed, and finally to you, before he swipes his tongue between his lips and lets out a breath. “Can I ask you something?”

You drop your pen. Why does he seem so conflicted?

Readjusting your position on the bed to face him, you lean closer to Gunwook as you shove your school books and other materials out of the way. “You can ask me anything,” you say, determined to comfort your friend.

He visibly hesitates, biting his bottom lip. He’s still not looking at you, and not so much as a second is allotted for one glimpse. “Do you...” he pauses, trying to muster the courage. “Do you really think of me as just a friend?”

The question almost makes your jaw drop to the floor. What does he mean by that? Sure, you did have a short-lived crush on him when you first got acquainted, but it faded instantaneously. You didn’t know you could be anything more—you thought you had no chance with a guy like him, so your feelings were trivial to you.

Tilting your head, you reply, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Gunwook shrugs, also following your actions and pushing all his textbooks away. “I guess– oh my god, this sounds stupid, but,” he groans, “I’ve liked you since last year, since before we even became friends. And whenever someone asks if I’m your boyfriend, you just– you immediately say no.”

He... likes you? You’re dumbfounded, eyes wide and mouth actually agape this time. You’re certain your cheeks are red, judging from the heat you feel rush up to your face.

At your silence, he continues. “I know it’s stupid. I didn’t just become friends with you because I like you, it’s more than that, but everytime you say I could never be your boyfriend or something like that, I hate it.

“I’ve liked you for so long, and please answer me,” he sounds breathless as he speaks, “Can I... can we be anything more?”

yujin 유진

first love / teenage crush

you didn’t know when you started liking yujin, you just did

maybe it was when you would watch him play soccer after school, with him alone on the field practicing and you doing your homework on the bleachers

or maybe it was when he bought you a drink that one time. you were thirsty after running to school because you were on the verge of getting an offense on your permanent record if you were late one more time

clicking a few buttons on the vending machine, the solace provided by strawberry milk was nearly yours—until you open your wallet to find that there’s only a thousand won inside

“maybe next time,” you think, “i don’t need to drink anything right now.”

but before you can leave, someone sneaks their two thousand into the slot for you, and the milk drops down into the small metal box below for you to claim

when you turn around, you’re met with yujin

and then a switch flipped. since then, you’ve noticed han yujin wherever you went

you stumbled onto the soccer field on a hot day when you were assigned cleaning duty, and you found that he was the only one there

deciding to repay the favor, after spectating him practicing for a while, you go to buy a drink for him too when you buy your own

you leave it next to his bag with a note, saying: “you’re really good! i bought this for you, make sure to get some rest ♡”

and so watching him practice while doing your homework became a regular occurrence for you, even if you weren’t 100% watching all the time. it was like background music, and your interest in him (caused by him buying you milk) became a full blown crush

Following the steps of your daily routine, you hurriedly arrange your books in your backpack, ready to go see Yujin—the best part of your day—when your teacher stops you at the door.

“[Name], I’d like to talk to you about tutoring someone,” she says, a soft smile plastered on her face as if she wasn’t actively ruining your day. “You’re one of my best students, and a classmate of yours really needs help.”

As hard as you tried to get away, you got stuck in the classroom for the rest of the afternoon, discussing possible tutoring times and the topic outlines where your “classmate” needed further explanation. Not only were you annoyed you missed some time to see Yujin, but when you got to the field, hoping he would still be practicing late into the night, he was gone.

Although you were displeased at the thought of having to tutor your male classmate every day of the school week, you had no choice. In addition, he was at least paying you, so it wasn’t like your hard work was for nothing—just that now, you would have to sacrifice your time with the boy you like.

You started to tutor him after school, and going to see Yujin became a rare possibility. Your tutoring was yielding good results, however, and your tutee received high marks on almost all tests after being taken under your wing.

He runs up to you, showing you his paper with a big red ninety-eight in the corner; he got an even higher grade than you did. “[Name]! Thank you, look at this! I’ve never gotten a grade this high!” You nod, but everything he’s saying is going in one ear and out the other. Since he technically doesn’t need your help anymore, maybe you could go watch Yujin today.

You cancel your session for the day, with permission from your advising teacher. After two and a half weeks, you’re finally back at the field—but this time, he’s the one who isn’t here. You let out a deep breath, deciding to power through and do your homework like normal.

You’re in the middle of trigonometry when a cool sensation is pressed up against your cheek, water beginning to drip down your skin. Flicking your head towards the perpetrator, you discover it to be Yujin holding a strawberry milk for you. He giggles, handing you the small box and sitting down beside you. “Here. I haven’t, um, seen you in a while. Why’s that?”

You take it from him, detaching the straw from the back of the box and poking it through the designated hole. “Yeah,” you say, sipping on the milk for a few seconds after. “I started to tutor Jiwon, so I couldn’t come the last few weeks.”

“Oh, you must be busy, then. Nevermind,” he mutters, shaking his head. “No, what is it? You can’t just say nevermind.” You scoff, a teasing grin making its way onto your face.

Yujin gulps. “Will you, uh... come to my game this weekend?”

[merakiui]

monops's reflection.

yandere!jade leech x (female) reader x floyd leech cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stalking, unrequited love, obsession, drugging, kidnapping/captivity, restraints, dark/possessive/violent thoughts, biting, blood, characters written as 18+ note - happy birthday, tweels!!! :D may you continue to be crazy.

Mostro Lounge is tranquil tonight, save for the occasional clinking of glass against glass and the soft melodies tumbling from your lips. You busy yourself with song while you wipe the surface of a table, bending forwards to reach the very back with the dampened rag. Jade finds himself eyeing your figure as you flit about, observing the way you wring the cloth free of excess water, your fingers curling into the sodden fabric as if attempting to strangle it. And then it’s promptly dunked into the bucket and wrung out again in repetition. He stands behind the counter and continues to dry the same glass he started on two minutes ago, its shiny surface reflecting his distracted countenance.

There’s something curious about you.

He can’t quite put his finger on what that something is. The more he analyzes you, the further he strays from a proper interpretation of your character. For a human who can’t use magic, you’re surprisingly selfless. You cheer your friends on in their academic endeavors, offering them your help whenever it feels like they might need it, and you carry your own weight at the lounge, boldly standing up to patrons who get too big for their britches. Jade wanted to pity you in the beginning, when customers had been rough and rude with you, but you’d dealt with every difficulty with a bright grin and a few choice words.

You’re strong; you never back down.

Jade sets the glass in its rightful place and reaches for another, all while keeping his mismatched stare on you. He wonders how much pressure it would take for you to finally snap. Would you still be able to smile then? Could you even manage to stay afloat in pessimistic waters with that blithe façade of yours? If he were to cut into you with knife and fork—with dreadfully sharp words and even sharper actions—would you allow yourself to bleed out? Or would you accept your fate and smile up at him from your porcelain plate, promising him you’ll patch yourself up because it isn’t a big deal?

When you act so cheerful, so blissfully ignorant to the beast who lurks behind, it sets a potent yearning aflame. A yearning to break you well beyond repair. A yearning to take that smile, chew it up, and spit it out until it’s the most devastated frown he’s ever seen.

“Good work today, Jade!” With a breathless huff—he wants to bottle that breath and each one that will follow—you set the bucket down and roll your shoulders. Exhaustion shadows your face, adding deceptive age to your youthful appearance. “Do you need any help?”

“I’m quite all right. Thank you, though.” He returns your smile with one of his own, the usual placid, tight-lipped thing that both eases and unsettles depending on the situation. His default expression, forever the same unless circumstances call for the other faces he’s stowed in his vast repertoire. “You’re more than welcome to head back if you’ve finished for the evening. I can handle the rest.”

“You sure?” The bucket is in your hands again, and you carry it over to the sink to empty the murky water into the basin. He notes the way your arms shake ever so slightly as you struggle to balance the heavy thing against the counter. “I don’t mind waiting here until you’re done.”

“Very well. In that case, I won’t take too long.”

He finishes drying the remaining lineup, arranging each on its respective shelf before wiping the counter for extra measure. He doesn’t have to do it, but he does. It never hurts to be clinically clean.

Floyd should be done with the stock count by now, he thinks, gazing at the door leading to the kitchen. I should check it just in case.

After folding his rag into a neat square and tucking it away, he strides over to the door, opens it a crack, and pokes his head inside. The kitchen space is devoid of life. With furrowed brows, Jade opens the door wider just as Floyd jumps out from his spot behind the racks. He’s holding the clipboard in one hand and flailing with the other. His attempt at a fright does nothing to startle Jade, but it does cause you to flinch back. You do that a lot. Jade’s noticed that you scare easily, often falling victim to Floyd’s pranks during your shifts. It’s all harmless fun, but sometimes Jade catches himself wishing for Floyd to push you just a little harder. A little rougher. Maybe one day he will and Jade will finally witness tears lining your lashes.

“F-Floyd!” you snap, humiliated. 

“Gotcha, Shrimpy. You always fall for it, y’know? Like a silly, stupid Shrimpy.” He passes the clipboard to Jade on his way out and adds, “Pretty sure everything’s correct.”

“Is it?” Jade peers at his brother’s handwriting. “If you don’t mind, I’ll review it once more.”

“Be my guest. Wasn’t really havin’ a ball fillin’ it out anyway.” He shrugs and then beelines for you, lifting you into the air with ease. He spins you despite your protests. Nasally laughter soon overtakes silence. Floyd has always been fond of your reactions; he eats them up as if it’s a special treat. “I wonder if you’ll get sick. You get motion sickness, Shrimpy? Tell me! Tell me!”

A covert smile stretches onto Jade’s mouth as he disappears into the kitchen, the door swinging shut behind him. While he goes over the numbers and corrects the errors Floyd’s made, he listens to you pleading with his brother to release you. Most of the numbers align with the remaining supplies and ingredients, and he adds his own notes in the margins so that Azul will know which are especially low and in need of replenishment. Checking his brother’s work isn’t a favorite pastime of Jade’s, but when it comes to the lounge and its success he’d rather look over a few numbers than watch sales plummet and listen to Azul’s endless slew of woeful complaints.

Once he’s made the necessary changes, he slips the sheet from the clipboard and heads back out. You’re in the process of chasing after Floyd, who’s holding your timecard above his head and dangling it like it’s a piece of bait. Part of Jade wants to enjoy the spectacle, but the other part is ready for the sweetness of sleep. For once he sides with the latter and clears his throat to get Floyd’s attention. 

“Ah, you’re already done?” Having lost interest in the game, he drops your card at once. It flutters to the floor, and he watches with wide, gleeful eyes as you swoop down to catch it. “That all we gotta do?”

“I believe so. Azul’s staying late, so he will lock up.”

Jade sets the inventory sheet on the nearest table for Azul to find before retrieving and filling out his timecard. Floyd hasn’t even marked his hours yet, and Jade exhales an empty sigh and takes the initiative to write it in for him. It’s always been like this. Jade looks out for Floyd, not only because they’re family and have always done so, but because there are some instances where he’s much too careless.

It has been noted that the two of them are a package deal. A duo. A pair. Inseparable twins who balance each other with varying levels of insanity. Their bond is unbreakable, having been built from blood and the will to survive ever since they were vulnerable elvers. Floyd is a reflection of Jade, and Jade is a reflection of Floyd; that’s how they have lived. Like day and night, sugar and salt, and light and dark, they operate like clockwork, expertly in time with one another.

The center of their relationship has always remained the same, and Jade suspects it will never change, even after they’ve acclimated to human society. They are predators with finely honed instincts, masquerading above the water as humans. With razored rows of teeth and an insatiable hunger for unpredictability, the two of them function in a domesticated world. In order to survive in such a foreign environment, Jade has learned that they need each other, which is why it’s so salient that they get along most days.

And much like night and day, like a person with a shadow, one cannot exist without the other.

“See ya tomorrow, Shrimpy!” Floyd flashes you a jovial grin as you take your leave, but there’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “I’ll be waiting…”

“Um, yeah… H-Have a good night.”

With your timecard now in Jade’s capable hands, he’s free to observe your handwriting. There’s nothing special about the way you write, but it still manages to mesmerize him. Every loop of each letter, messily intertwining like frayed strings of fate, adds charm to the script. It’s obvious you tried and failed to sign your name in cursive, but the fact that you even bothered to do so is cute.

It’s truly not that important, he reminds himself as he places the cards back where they belong.

“Shall we head back now?”

Floyd nods, stifling a yawn. As they walk through peaceful halls, he adds in a conversational tone, “Awfully boring when Shrimpy’s not around.”

Jade weighs that declaration and finds himself nodding in agreement. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

i. on a moonlit night, under an eave of twinkling stars, monops waltzes gracefully with the ghost of his other half. the shards of a shattered mirror reflect two sides of the same coin, of human and monster. when the clouds part and an ethereal beam encases the solitary monops, the illusion melts away into a fleeting dream.

Floyd is everything Jade is not: energetic, extroverted, and brash. Such adjectives can’t possibly describe Jade’s outward demeanor—the one he carefully orchestrates for public consumption. He’s polite and kind, soft-spoken and always wearing a smile despite the situation. He cloaks himself in a many-layered mask—a perfect predator with multiple disguises at his disposal. If he must shed a dozen skins to uphold his gentlemanly disposition, then he will gladly peel them away one at a time until he’s found one that fits flawlessly over bone. Jade could never hope to become what Floyd is, but what Floyd is not Jade is. And he is composed of qualities that reflect Floyd’s own behaviors. 

He’s not ashamed to admit what he lacks. This is just a facet of life. You can never truly have everything you want. If the world was fair, everyone would achieve their goals without adversity. Any aspiration, no matter how small and insignificant, requires an adequate fight to be worthy of achievement. Survival is not much of a dream, but it’s the only thing Jade’s ever known as he floats through the world alongside his brother. His dreams are Floyd’s, or so that’s what he’s always told those who enquire. He shares these things with him because he does not have any to call his own.

Not yet, at least.

And sharing—it’s a word he knows well. Everything that Jade owns, Floyd owns as well. They share the same face, the same room, the same clothes. They might even come to share the same lover one day, should they both find their hearts pierced by Cupid’s miserable arrows. Jade has never been against the concept of sharing. It’s an acceptable way of life for him. He grew up practicing the concept, and it has taught him how to coexist with others. Sharing is an extension of the bonds he’s formed.

Still, he’s avaricious in some aspects. Hopelessly so.

There’s no denying the difficulty that arises when one wishes to share in the turbulent waters of the Coral Sea, where the natural order caters to the strong and crushes the weak, but splitting the essentials is what guarantees survival. And if it’s worked so well in the past, why should he stop now? Therefore, sharing will always be a priority, even if their desires are fraught with selfish envy.

Jade is watching you again.

You’re sitting in the courtyard with Azul, gesturing wildly as you recount a story he can’t hear from where he stands behind a stone pillar. Azul’s expression is soft with amusement; his lips quirk up in laughter, and his eyes never leave yours. Your cursive may be a mess and you might be feeble in the face of danger, but you certainly know how to enthrall others. If Jade didn’t know any better, he’d suspect you to be a siren. Night Raven College would be the perfect hunting ground for a predator of that nature. Perhaps once you’ve charmed Azul you’ll devour his heart and leave a streak of gore in your wake.

That’s impossible. 

Jade is certain of this fact because he knows you’re not a predator. You are very much the harmless prey who has wandered into a den of ravenous beasts. He wonders if the thought that Azul may be dangerous ever crosses that empty, pea-sized brain of yours. He’s as much of a hunter as the rest of the students here, and with those eight tentacles of his he could easily send you to a watery grave. You wouldn’t have much of a chance to struggle, not unless Azul’s own benevolence grants you that futile hope. Thinking about it—about the thrill of a one-sided scuffle—has his heart racing, his palms wetting with sweat.

Oh, but you’re not meant to be Azul’s prey.

So get out of his eyes. Step off of the stage that entertains. Untangle yourself from unseen tentacles.

You are Jade’s.

From the moment the two of you crossed paths—from the moment you took up a job at the lounge and relied on him during your training—you belonged to him. 

And he’s not quite sure he wants to share you with anyone.

Perhaps that dumb smile of yours hides something far darker. Perhaps your blood wouldn’t taste as delectable as he once hoped if it’s already been tainted by Azul’s silver tongue. In his own paradise, an ideal world constructed within the confines of his mind, you wouldn’t look at another man, another woman, another person. Not another living thing. You wouldn’t speak to another man, another woman, another person. Not another living thing. You wouldn’t know the tastes of sweet poison or bitter love unless Jade chooses to bestow these flavors unto you. You would only see him, only taste him, only adore him with those wondrous eyes—eyes that are so impossibly strong even when the harshest of insults are thrown your way.

So get the fuck out of Azul’s eyes. Step off of the damned stage that entertains. Untangle yourself from unseen tentacles before Jade slices all of them off at the root.

These feelings ignite a perilous, potent spark deep within his chest. Seeing you smile at Azul in such a casual setting—it’s not right. This terrarium display is wrong. So wrong. 

The internal fuse has been lit and it’s nearing its inevitable implosion. Stop looking at him with those eyes. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

If Jade could, he would slice your smile off and keep it for himself. Pin it to the wall like it’s a rare species of butterfly, your wings having been severed from the sky.

You’re unbearable.

He fears you wouldn’t belong anywhere in his ideal world, for if you found yourself in the depths of the Coral Sea he wouldn’t allow you to surface.

The most confounding specimen I’ve ever encountered.

Azul is an only child. His mother and step-father would miss him terribly.

— — — 

Jade spies the delightful pep in your step as you skip past the bar later that same day. You’re balancing drinks and desserts on a tray as you make your way to a nearby table, and he’s immediately reminded of why he’s so drawn to you. You’re a puzzle he has yet to solve—an experiment he has yet to collect enough data from. If he could, he’d shrink you down to the size of his index finger and place you in one of his terrariums so that you could live out your tiny life amongst an array of plants. And Jade would be content to observe from above like a godly sovereign with the power to change your fate in a single snap.

Perhaps it’s not right to view you as a specimen or prey. Perhaps it would be better to regard you as a slab of meat, raw and uncooked, just waiting to be snatched up in his maw.

“Please enjoy!”

Your voice pulls him from his reveries. It’s a melody he’s come to savor in solitude. Naturally lilting, it’s the type of voice even the most jealous of souls would covet. He wants to reach deep inside your throat, grasp it for himself, and cradle it to his ear as if it’s a secret-spilling conch.

But claiming ownership of your sound isn’t enough. He wants to—needs to—devour your everything. Your body and soul, marking you as his, ensuring you’re kept under his thumb forever, seared into his own existence like a brand. Then your every breath will be his, and the blood that courses through your veins shall also become his. The darkest of reds might just suit you more than the aquatic hues of Mostro Lounge’s uniform.

Oh, what he’d give to paint you in vinous vermillion.

“Jade, could you cover for me? I’m going to take my break now if that’s okay with you.” Jade must have scanned your hopeful expression for longer than normal because you begin to fidget in front of him, toying with the hem of your apron. “Uh, that’s fine, right?”

“Yes, of course. Go right ahead.” He sends you off with his trademark smile, dusting his destructive thoughts away.

After you’ve retreated to the kitchen, he turns his gaze on the patrons, listening to the noisy din of laughter and chatter. He overhears a group discussing peculiar textbook titles and how most of them are unnecessarily convoluted and complicated. One of the students brings up a title that didn’t make any sense to him and he describes his surprise when he learned it was a book full of love spells and potion recipes. His friends, as all close friends often do, crack jokes at his expense, prodding for more information on who he intends to enchant. The conversation is bland and juvenile, but it does manage to strike a chord of curiosity in Jade.

Love.

Jade has never known the true meaning of romance. Such a thing does not exist in his perfect world. In some lonesome corners of the ocean, merfolk reproduce because they must. Because it’s the only way to survive. It will be like that for him and Floyd in the future, lest they find themselves ensnared in true love’s deadly trap and choose to reproduce for the sole purpose of fickle feelings. To mate out of love rather than obligation—it’s not unheard of and he isn’t opposed to it. Many humans adopt this way of life.

Jade would like to try it for himself, but he doesn’t know how. He’s never known the answer to this question—the one equation he could never work out. Is his heart too small, or is he incapable of comprehending the complexities of romance? Perhaps neither is true. When he considers the requirements that must be met to qualify love as love, he realizes the adoration he feels for you is not fluffy or innocent. Can such a grand obsession be classified as love if it’s dark and spiraling, condemning him to horrific visions? 

Jade does not gaze upon you with fondness. He looks at you as if you’re to be his next meal.

Even when he feels like breaking you would quell some monstrous urge within him, there’s another side that wishes to simply lock you away and protect you from the world and its inhabitants. Because it’s the world that will save you from him, but if you were imprisoned in his world, where it would be just you and him, no one could ever hope to reach you.

Jade isn’t entirely cruel. He would like to share his hobbies with you. He would like to live alongside you in the Coral Sea, tying his life to yours. It’s not an impossible desire, but he knows you wouldn’t be content with this arrangement. Not because it would be unwilling. Not because it would be Jade who has fallen for you and dragged you beneath the waves. It’s precisely because it’s the sea that you might object. You would have to adapt to life in a new, underwater environment. You would have to relinquish certain pleasures unique to the surface, abandoning your bipedal friends and family to live in isolation with him.

But isolation is better than the other terrariums that wait for you. He’ll smash all of them so that you’ll only know this one—the one with him.

Jade has been moving on autopilot for so long now that it finally occurs to him that you’re nowhere to be found. The longer he spends counting the lounge’s staff, the more his observations are proven true. You haven’t returned from your break, which is very unusual considering you’ve always been so diligent about time management. Responsible, that’s what you are. It’s one of the qualities that’s won Azul over. 

He surmises it has also shocked his heart with bolts of not-so-lovely lightning.

Despite the bustling, crowded lounge, he slips inside the kitchen to search for you. Usually Floyd’s crowding around you whenever you have a moment to spare, but he isn’t anywhere in sight either. Jade knows his brother and his mood swings well. When he isn’t feeling the lounge, he’ll escape elsewhere until his mood has been restored. He can understand and overlook Floyd’s absence, but yours is inexcusable.

The chefs are hard at work cooking up delicious meals, and all kinds of savory scents blanket the air. Jade glances at the knife block tucked away in a corner, filled with blades of varying sizes, as he passes. After watching you for so long, he’s learned that you often spend your breaks in the storage room, away from the eyes of customers and Azul. Perhaps the space has become something of a comfort for you, or maybe you just like taking shelter in the kitchen.

A sharp gasp joins the chefs’ clattering.

Jade’s stare snaps towards the storage room door. He frowns when he notices it’s been left ajar.

As he approaches, he can make out the sounds of rustling fabric and salacious gasps. He peers through the sliver into the dimly lit space, a single yellow eye spying a terrible scene. It takes a lot to stun Jade Leech, but the view before him is stunning in a very crooked way. It sends a shockwave rumbling through his body, temporarily freezing him to his spot. Unable to look away, to preserve his eyes and mind, he watches. Every inch of him itches.

Bile claws up his throat with acidic fingers.

You’re pressed against the shelves, skirt hiked high and panties pushed haphazardly to the side. Towering over you, anatomy pinned to yours in a sinful connection, is Floyd. His hands are gripping your wrists as he rocks forward to slot himself deeper inside. You search for a solid hold to steady yourself, burying your head in your arm to muffle your keening cries. 

“Please… It’s… S’too much. Hold on,” you babble, clinging like a koala.

Floyd leans in to nip at the shell of your ear, eliciting a shudder and a squeal from you. “Not happening, Shrimpy…” His lips travel along the length of your neck, pressing playful kisses into your skin. “You’re really so cute, you know that? So cute and soft… I can’t keep my hands off of ya.”

“We really—oh—really shouldn’t do—hah—this!”

Floyd hums, nonchalant, and slowly slides out of your tight, gummy walls. The tip of his cock prods at your pussy once more, glistening with the dew of your essence.

“Why not?”

“Seriously… What if someone sees us? What if—”

Your retort is cut short when he snaps his hips against yours, filling you in a single thrust. You crumple in his arms, tears gathering in your eyes.

Tears. Because of Floyd. Tears.

“So what if they do? I’ll get ’em good if they peep on my Shrimpy.” He licks a stripe up your neck and then sinks his pointed teeth into the area, hard enough to draw blood. You flinch against him, your pretty face contorting with a mixture of pleasure and discomfort while he laps up your blood. Floyd hums merrily, the sound coming deep from within his chest. “Shrimpy always tastes so yummy. I wanna do this aaall the time!”

“Wait, don’t leave any marks!”

“Oops. Too late.” Grinning boyishly, he grabs your chin and tilts your head up to meet his greedy lips. “Lemme kiss it better for ya.”

Jade watches you melt into the kiss, watches you become putty in his twin brother’s hands. Your eyes flutter shut for the briefest moment, only to flash open when Floyd begins to thrust into you. He sets a hasty, sporadic pace as he pursues an orgasmic high. Your sobs are swallowed in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses that leave you breathless and reaching. You claw at anything stable enough to support you, your fingers curling into Floyd.

A perfect fit.

While he stands there and takes in the sight of his brother claiming the angel he had hoped to someday make his, it dawns on him that the entire storage room is stained with the memory of you. Your smell, your existence, your everything—it lingers even when you aren’t here. It is imprinted on the walls and shelves; it is on Floyd. Your entire soul has been his long before Jade even laid eyes on you.

Now he knows why you frequent the storage room. Now he knows your secret.

He’ll open your torso and pry it out of you, crush it underfoot, and insert a new secret. A better secret. His secret.

Floyd finishes inside of you with a husky, satisfied groan, his arms wrapped possessively around your trembling frame while you bite back bawdy moans. Jade is overcome with a loathsome chill. You have never belonged to him. Not ever. Certainly not now.

“We should get back out there.” Your mumbling reaches his ears, subdued in the cramped storage room. “Before someone comes looking.”

“Don’t wanna. S’warm and cozy inside.”

“Floyd…” Greedy hands are roaming beneath your shirt. You squirm, attempting to pull yourself off of his softening cock, but he yanks you against his chest and holds firm. “We can do this again later. But right now I need to clean up and you have to work. If we take too long, someone will definitely come looking.”

Floyd rolls his eyes, unwilling to acquiesce until yellow crosses yellow. For a strained moment Jade holds his brother’s inquisitive stare, investigating his blank expression for an iota of emotion. The air stales between the both of them, unspoken accusations festering. And then Floyd’s dull hues brighten and a wide smirk blossoms on his lips.

“Fine, fine. We’ll get back to work now.”

An apocalypse rages within Jade’s terrarium heart.

ii. when he turns to the shards for a solution, the image that is offered is weak and hazy. if he is to live without his other half, he must find ways to fill in the blanks. and so it is said that the lonesome monops clutched the largest shard in a resolute fist and cut away the impression of his other half.

In some cases, Jade is Floyd’s shadow, a reasonable body double who is admired for his patience and persistence. Sometimes he’s the collar and the leash; other times he is meticulously unrestrained. Everything is an act, carefully curated for unsuspecting audiences. Floyd is all physical destruction. He is swift like a clean cut, devastating like a tsunami.

For the first time in a while, Jade cannot bear the face he sees in the mirror. It doesn’t feel like it belongs to him, for it is a reflection of Floyd. It’s a permanent reminder that the two of them are linked whether or not he fancies that. But Jade does not want to be the collar and the lash, nor does he wish to recall the day Floyd took yet another precious thing from him. This face is proof that even he cannot have anything for himself. It is evidence that he is bound to share and share and share until death. He will remain as the shadow, the dark, the salt, and the night for all of eternity, a two-faced creature lacking a true identity.

Neither of them addresses the elephant in the room. If Floyd shows any indication that he wants to bring it up, Jade sweeps the topic away before it can poison his mood. He knows as well as Jade does that it’s not worth bickering over, even if their hackles raise whenever they look at each other.

So Floyd’s been fucking you in the storage room. What’s so traumatic about that? Really, it shouldn’t come as a surprise, but the image still persists in his head like a ruthless phantom. He’s left lying awake at night, sifting through that memory and the ones that came before it for any inkling of what went wrong. Was it his own patience that cost him? Was it the fact that Floyd could charm you in ways Jade just couldn’t?

They have the same face. So why did you choose to love his other half?

Without Floyd, Jade feels incomplete. That’s his family—his only brother. He shouldn’t hate his kin, but he can’t just sit with envy and frustration and pretend as if it’s okay.

The mirror reflects his grim countenance, sneering at him with troubling familiarity. Cracks spiderweb along the length of the glass, extending outwards from where his fist landed. Pain sparks beneath bruising knuckles, masterfully hidden under the pristine fabric of a pure-white glove.

The terrarium is filling with foul things, and Jade doesn’t have enough control to stop the invasion.

— — —

“It’s been really slow today, hasn’t it?” you ask, looking to Jade for his input.

“I’ll admit it’s unusually quiet.” He glances at you, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. He’s tired, but it hardly shows. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No, not at all! I welcome the break. Still… It’s weird. Mostro Lounge almost always has lots of customers.”

“I suppose it’s less work for us.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

Heaving a relieved sigh, you rest your elbows on the counter, content to watch the few patrons lingering in the lounge. Jade’s eyes travel along the length of your back, over the the dip and swoop of your spine when you bend forward, and he’s immediately brought back to the day he discovered you and Floyd in the storage room.

“I’ve got it!” you announce moments later, lighting up like a bulb. “The reason it’s so quiet.”

“Oh?” He raises a brow, feigning ignorance.

“It’s because Floyd’s not here. Everything’s super lively when he’s around.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm. It’s a shame he’s not scheduled today. Oh, but it’s not so bad when it’s just the two of us. We’re a good team!”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“I’m happy we can talk like this. It feels like we never have the chance to speak during work and I’m always worried I’ll bother you if I try to start a conversation.”

“You couldn’t possibly bother me.” Jade pauses to ruminate on his thoughts before adding, “Well, you were awfully troublesome in the beginning. Ah, don’t look so upset. I’m only admitting my feelings.”

“Am I still troublesome?” You cross your arms over your chest, pouting.

You are. Very much so, I’m afraid.

“I tolerate you now.”

“That doesn’t sound any better!”

Jade chuckles. “It’s merely constructive criticism. Take it in stride.”

“Ugh. You’re the worst.” Despite that, a smile creeps onto your face.

It’s the same smile you show Floyd, so therefore it has no meaning. It’s not special.

Jade abhors it. He should be the one in that storage room with you. It should be Jade who touches and lavishes you with filthy praise before inevitable destruction. Consolation before bruises and bite marks. Sugar before salt. Love before lust.

You can’t possibly fit in his make-believe terrarium now—not when your heart lies with Floyd. Just what is his brother to you? What do you possibly see in him that you fail to see in Jade? They are the same. They are mirror images of one another. There is no difference.

So why won’t you look at him with admiration in your eyes? Eyes he’ll gouge out for beholding another man. Why won’t you kiss him in secret? Lips he’ll sew shut for touching a mouth that isn’t his. Why won’t you beckon him into that cursed storage room and pull him flush against you, joining together in bodily matrimony? A body he’ll cage to prevent it from fleeing. Why can’t you love him until the very feeling is leaking from your pores? Leaking like the blood that will run far and red when he transplants his love into your chest. Why must you associate yourself with the other half—the better half? 

The half that’s won.

It doesn’t matter if Floyd’s willing to share. Jade isn’t feeling charitable. He doesn’t want to cut you up into tiny shreds and share. You’re for his enjoyment. This is a non-negotiable fact.

Perhaps he’s the worst just as you claimed. Because if he was the best he’d have you. Because if he was the best he wouldn’t feel the need to mourn a gutting loss. Because if he was the best he wouldn’t feel the need to fall back on a nasty trump card. But when fair play fails, one must resort to sordid schemes in order to secure victory. You can’t expect to climb the corporate ladder without stepping on a few rotted rungs in the ascent, courtesy of those who came before.

It’s fine if he plays dirty. After all, his feelings have never been defined by purity.

“You seem tired. Would you like me to fetch you something to drink?”

“Mm, yeah. Could you? I’d hate to trouble you.”

“It’s not a problem. Will tea be suitable?”

“Sure. I could go for chamomile. I heard you’re great at making tea, so I know it’ll be good.”

“I still have much to learn, but I’m flattered you hold me in such pleasant regard.”

“I doubt you could ever fail. You’re always succeeding. I’m actually kinda jealous. How are you so good at—oh! Someone needs me at table three. Be right back.”

Jade nods, replaying your words in a loop. I doubt you could ever fail. You’re always succeeding. But he has failed. He’s failed and it’s eating him alive because you’re so close and yet out of his reach.

You spread your wings like a good social butterfly and abandon your place at the counter. Jade’s left to prepare your tea in peace. He chooses from the vast selection lining the wall—chamomile just as you suggested—and goes through the motions of filling the kettle with fresh water. He’s working on a time limit here, so he withdraws his magic pen, mutters the proper incantation, and waits for the telltale hiss. Even though he would like to prepare it with the utmost care, he must be hasty and stealthy if he wants to slip the special ingredient in without garnering unwanted attention.

Luckily, you’re trapped in a conversation with a friend and won’t be returning to his side anytime soon. That’s another trait he’s learned about you. Just like Floyd, you adore chatting. It’s not difficult to hold a conversation with you, especially when you’re the one leading it. You shine when you speak. He needs to snuff you before anyone else comes to seek your light.

Perhaps it’s this intoxicating quality of yours that caught Floyd’s heart. Jade can’t quite ascertain when he started looking at you from less-than-friendly angles or what the exact catalyst for your relationship with his twin was. It must have begun as a wicked fascination. An innate curiosity with the surface and its humans. How else could Floyd have fallen for you if he rarely spoke with you? Was it your strengths that earned his approval? Was it your humanity that left him impressed?

It’s not fair, but Jade won’t whine about it. He’s not a child. Whining won’t solve anything.

He must love you until you shatter.

The kettle whistles, thus yanking him from his innermost contemplations. He lifts it, minding the burning surface, and pours the water into a porcelain cup. Steam rises and furls like wispy, ghostly fingers. He could keep the vial hidden in his pocket and serve you a normal cup of chamomile. But the situation isn’t normal and he can’t just charm you as he normally would.

That didn’t work, so he must cross that method off his list and resort to what’s next. It’s only natural to fight for the thing you cherish most, so he shall do just that.

If Floyd hasn’t broken you yet, he certainly will.

You’re back at the counter just as he finishes stirring it in with the now darkening, tea-tainted water. Jade hands it to you, reminding you that it’s still hot. It’s an empty warning. He couldn’t care less if the liquid scorches your tongue. Let it burn, he thinks, his eyes narrowed as he watches you blow on it so it’ll cool faster. Perhaps then you’ll stop tangling your tongue with him.

Sometimes love is as unforgiving as the deep sea, turbulent and harrowing. Sometimes you must kill the one you love to truly understand the feeling—to dissect it down to the biological, scientific level.

Like always, he observes you while you drink the tea throughout the remainder of your shift. You look so sleepy, your eyelids fluttering and snapping open. You’re slipping; he can see it. Jade wonders what face you might show him later—what emotion will reflect in fragile eyes.

He knows it won’t be love, but that doesn’t stop him from hoping.

iii. separated from his other half, monops is unrecognizable—a hollow monster who has lost fractions of his humanity in a selfish effort to dispose of unnatural characteristics. he cannot hope to find his own personality amidst the mess in his tower, so he sits before the broken, bloodied shards once again. his other half meets him there, shattered and in pieces as he stares.

You shift in your sleep, just barely breaching the surface of consciousness. Jade placed you on his bed after carrying you from the lounge to his and Floyd’s room, where he proceeded to bind your arms and gag you. You look mostly peaceful tangled in his sheets, an oblivious thing who knows nothing of the mountains he’s had to scale in order to arrive at this point—at the glorious top.

Floyd’s not here, but Jade suspects he might have already known what was coming. They’ve always known how to read the other. Maybe it’s telepathy.

Or maybe not. They’re just aware of the other’s monstrosities. That’s all there is to it.

It’s then when your eyes snap open. Jade doesn’t bother to hide the smile crawling onto his face as he watches you come to, slowly assessing your surroundings. It doesn’t take long for you to start struggling once you’ve registered the tie binding your wrists together and the gag shoved into your mouth. Your voice comes out muffled, but your nostrils are flaring. Your eyes are widening. He can smell your fear—taste it on the tip of his tongue.

It prickles his skin, sets it on fire.

Jade sits primly at the edge of Floyd’s bed, content to study you from a distance. You’re writhing desperately in an attempt to loosen the restraints. He’s tied them well. It’s a technique mastered and put into practice. You’re not getting out of this.

“You fainted.”

You startle, turning your head to look at him. The fear seems to diminish for a moment before it returns in full force. Your glassy eyes are pleading: Why?

“It’s not wise to overwork yourself. You should prioritize your health more.”

Oh, is this it? Are those tears? Already? When he hasn’t even done anything to you yet? Have you really been this weak all along?

You try to talk despite the gag, and the attempt is so pitiful that Jade crosses over to tug it down from your mouth. Saliva strings from the gag. Messy.

“Jade! What the hell?! Why am I tied up? Why am I in your room?”

He frowns. “I’ll admit I’m rather…displeased.” He could unleash the torrent right now, but he won’t. Not yet. “Perhaps you might know why my mood has soured?”

“I… What? Is this because I fainted? Look, I’m sorry. I’ll take better care of myself. Please don’t make this a big deal.”

He tilts his head, confused. “I don’t quite care that you fainted.” He seizes your chin and forces you to meet his mismatched hues. “I care about the company you keep.”

“The company I keep? I don’t understand. What are you—”

“Give it some thought.” His fingers dig into your cheeks. Hard.

You yelp, attempting to pull away. He doesn’t release you. “I don’t know what you mean! Seriously, what’s all of this about? Did I do something wrong? Please… Please let me go.”

“You’re getting there.” He lessens the pressure on your jaw. “Come now. You’re so close.”

“Jade, please—”

“This is regarding your involvement with my brother,” he begins, and horror settles on your face. “Ah, so you are following. Wonderful.”

“Did you… Did you see us?”

“More than I ever wanted to see, yes.” He smiles thinly and releases you. “I thought it was such a dreadful, ugly thing to behold. My own kin lusting after the only thing I’ve ever loved to such a degree.” He swipes a faux tear from his eye. His voice drops to a threateningly low decibel next, and darkness passes over his features. He looks scarily grotesque. “It made me so ill. Seeing you in that closet with Floyd… Watching you talk to Azul—to everyone else—makes me so ill. I fondly contemplated the most troubling things.”

“W-What?”

“It truly is a conundrum.” He sighs as if unloading a heavy burden. “To feel so strongly for something that even love and hate become one and the same… I want nothing more than to strangle you whenever I see you with Floyd, with Azul, with anyone who isn’t me. I want to cut into your torso and make you suffer tenfold for what I’ve had to endure.” His fingers curl around your ankles, sliding down to reach your shoes. He unties the laces, sliding both from your feet. And then he’s grasping them, rubbing circles into your soles. “I want you to look at me no matter what, even when you’re a shredded, bloodied mess.”

“You… You’re joking, r-right?”

“Am I?” He smiles again, but it’s wider this time. Exhilarated. Excited. “Should we see who’s laughing when I sever your feet at the ankles? He peels your socks off next, tossing them over his shoulder. “Do you think that’s a fitting punishment?”

“Fuck no! You’re insane!”

He hums his acknowledgement and reaches for your skirt. Your heart drops into your stomach, every muscle tightening with raw terror. Instinctively, you kick out at him. Your foot slams into his chest. If it hurts, he doesn’t let it show.

“Don’t you dare touch me, you creep! Stay the fuck away!” By the third kick, he catches your foot. And he stares at it. Quietly. Expressionlessly. There is nothing in his face. That horrifies you. “Jade… Jade, I’m sorry. Can we please… Can you please stop this?”

“Am I truly that undesirable? You would rather have Floyd than me?”

“Yes, of course! Floyd’s not a fucking pervert like you!”

Jade’s laughter is sudden and short. It trembles through him like an earthquake. “Forgive me. It was so funny I just had to chuckle.” A smug smile takes up residence on his face. “Do you really think Floyd is so pure? That he’s the perfect partner all humans dream of?”

“He didn’t outright admit to wanting to murder me so, uh, yeah, he’s much better than your crazy ass!”

Jade squeezes your foot once before setting it down on the bed. He crawls over you, his hands snaking up your thighs. “That’s a shame. You’ll think differently soon enough. He just hasn’t given you reason to fear him yet.”

“I highly doubt—hey! Don’t touch there!” You struggle again, your breath coming in short, helpless huffs. “Let go of me. Please. Jade, let go…” Your voice trails off, spotted with distress.

His hand settles over your clothed pussy next. Two fingers press up against that sacred spot, tracing the area experimentally. “This is that warm and cozy place, yes?” You shake your head at him, lips trembling. He smirks, vicious and mean, and strokes slow, soothing lines up and down the outline. “Is it your safe day? Ah, but perhaps love is stronger than medicine. Stronger than all of the filth Floyd’s emptied in you. What do you think?”

“No… No, stop!”

“It really did sicken me—the thought of you and Floyd. Together. Forever. If you were to fall pregnant, I’d have to take a textbook to your stomach. The alchemy textbook. That one would inflict the most damage, you see,” he admits with a pleasant hum. He watches the spreading wet patch with predatory glee before gazing back at you. “But you’re not pregnant, right?”

“I’m not! I’m not!” You gasp when his fingers dip into the waistband of your panties, harshly tugging them from your skin. And then his fingers are inching towards your pussy. “What are you—stop! No, no, no! Floyd! Floyd, help!” You squirm beneath him, kicking and screaming. “Floyd! Floyd, help me! Please! Anyone—someone—please help!”

A shadow passes over your face for a second before his hand comes down upon your mouth to silence your incessant shrieks. Your sobs are softer now, each plea spoken into his palm. Jade exhales slowly, composing himself.

“You’ve said his name more than enough. Say it any more and I’m afraid I’ll have to remedy this bad habit. Just how much do you value your tongue, I wonder?”

Before you can even think of struggling further, he’s switching the positions. Sitting back against the headboard, he tugs you onto his lap. You try to get away from him, but he holds you steady. The gag is fastened around your mouth once more, tighter this time.

“Now, now. You’re not going to escape, so there’s no point in exhausting your energy. Pointless pursuits are never rewarded,” he chides, tutting. He pulls his magic pen from his pocket and flicks it in the air once. A mirror materializes, displaying your disturbed expression in the glass.

Your mind blanks out then, logic overridden with the intrinsic desperation to survive. Is that really you looking back? It can’t be. The (Name) you know has never looked this fearful. Her face has never been this warped with panic.

But then you feel something stiff prodding you from behind, and the horror triples. You squirm again, much more forceful, sobbing into the gag and shaking your head as if that will earn you a sliver of sympathy from him. He continues to hold you against him with one arm while the other reaches to pull himself free from the confines of his pants and boxers.

“We have the same face, so there’s no need to cry. If it really helps, just think of me as Floyd,” he teases, and it sickens you. Makes you feel so gross and filthy. You want to step out of your skin, travel to a place that isn’t here, disappear into the tile and never return. Tears trace down your cheeks in salty rivulets. You can only produce blubbery whimpers now. His erect cock curves up towards your stomach. Jade lifts your skirt to get a better view. The mirror reflects it all in crisp detail. “What do you think? Is it bigger than his?”

His knuckles trace your cheek, uncharacteristically tender.

“It will seem that way when it’s inside, won’t it?”

In response you shift in his lap, tugging at the tie tightly secured around your wrists, and he merely chuckles. It’s delightful, really, the way you move like captured prey. Your chest heaves when the fleshy head of his cock presses shallowly inside your pussy, sampling wet warmth. You pray it’ll end fast. You pray he’ll be gentle. You pray he’ll skin you alive so you’ll never have to spend another second in this body. Anything but this.

Jade doesn’t grant either of those prayers, for he lifts you up slightly, aims for home, and slams you down in one brutal thrust that punches the air from your lungs. You choke on your tongue, biting down so hard that your teeth split the skin on the inside of your cheek. Blood pools into your mouth. It stings, but nothing hurts more than the unwanted intrusion. Shamelessly, much to your horror, your walls affix to him in an attempt to accommodate his girth. Without intending to, you catch yourself in the mirror. The stretch is sinful, your pussy wrapped snugly around him, and he’s slotted all the way to the hilt.

It’s torture for you.

It’s a twisted relief for Jade. A triumphant euphoria.

He exhales a shaky breath, his lips peeling apart to reveal a row of sharp teeth. In the mirror he looks every bit the predator he’s meant to be: cruel and cutthroat, staking claim on a stolen prize. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips as he rocks you up and down, occasionally bucking his hips to meet your soft, plush ass.

“It’s strange,” he manages through his grunts and groans, his breath hot on your nape, “I imagined this would feel more gratifying than any other gruesome thrill. Mm, but it’s not—” he slams you down again, reveling in your muffled wailing, “not nearly enough.”

Your eyes, wet with tears, question his reflection. You watch with bated breath as he slides your collar away, leaning in to press his lips to your neck. Your pulse stutters in his mouth, a jittery, fearful thing.

He inhales the pungent scent of sweat and sex, the scent of your fear, the scent of himself on you. From head to toe, externally and internally, you are covered in him, wrapped around him, molded to his very shape. You’ve gone stiff in his arms, too frightened to move a single muscle, but it only serves to excite him more. He needs to bear witness to all of it—to every inch of you, stripped bare and wired with anxiety.

Needle-thin teeth prick your skin. You wince and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Does it hurt?”

Despairing and hopeless, you deflate against him. Your body shakes with every sob.

It hurts. It hurts so much. More than anything has ever hurt before. And Jade knows this because he isn’t gentle. He has no interest in being sweet. He bites to harm. To kill. To destroy.

Jade sinks in deep: his teeth in your throat and his cock in your guts. And it hurts.

“I’m glad,” he murmurs, his lips slick and spattered with crimson when he pulls away, breathing heavily. “I’m so pleased…”

The blood just won’t stop. It’s flowing in rivers, cascading down the juncture between neck and shoulder and staining your clothes. Did he bite something major? Oh God—are you going to bleed out? Are you going to die? Did he get that one artery—the throat artery—the whatever-the-fuck-it’s-called artery? Is that even possible? Why won’t the blood stop? Why do you feel so fuzzy—so faint? It really won’t stop. It’s an ocean.

It’s everywhere.

Jade pinches you to bring you back to yourself; his nails prick your thigh, imprinting crescent moons in skin, and it works. You surface, taking in big gulps of oxygen while your heart skips over itself. You can’t drift off even if you wanted to; your reflection is much too haunting, destroyed and debased in every possible way. It grounds you in reality, digs deeply.

“Pain is the most thrilling form of love. You’ve taught me something new. Thank you.”

From behind, peering over your shoulder, his reflection grins at you. Wildly untamed and blood-stained, he’s manic. Unhinged. Uncaged. His pupils are so large they nearly eclipse his heterochromatic irises, rendering both eyes beady and black. Two pits of a molten void—a starless outer space.

He looks just like Floyd.

[elliespassagerprincess]

i LOVE your headcanons of professor ellie 💗 could you write hcs of how ellie reacts to/feels about readers partying/drinking habits? since it’s college lololol tysm!!

Headcannons: professor!ellie williams x reader

masterlist

professor ellie masterlist

☆ The relationship started slow—Ellie couldn’t help the way she stared a little too long when you answered in class, the way her voice softened only when calling your name.

☆ You were top of your class, confident but kind—and the fact that you had no idea how captivating you were made her want you more.

☆ Ellie told herself she’d keep it professional, but she crumbled the first time you stayed after class to ask about office hours and bit your lip nervously.

☆ One night, a study session in her office turned into brushing fingers… then grazing knees… then a kiss that shifted her entire world.

☆ You’re young, wild, and still living the typical campus life—going out with friends, drinking, wearing short dresses.

☆ At first, Ellie tries to be understanding—you’re just being normal, she tells herself.

☆ But every time you text her “going out tonight!” she feels her chest tighten.

☆ Her mind instantly conjures images of guys hitting on you, or worse—touching you.

☆ She’s already emotionally unwell just thinking about you drunk around people who don’t know you belong to her.

☆ She never says “don’t go”—instead, it’s “be safe” and “text me the second you get home.”

☆ You send her a mirror selfie before going out, and it ruins her entire night.

☆ “You look incredible,” she texts—but she’s chewing her cheek in rage, wondering who else will see you like that.

☆ She zooms in on the picture, analyzing every detail: your neckline, your expression, who might be in the reflection.

☆ If you don’t answer for longer than an hour, she spirals.

☆ She doesn’t sleep until you text her that you're back home safe.

☆ If you mention a guy buying you a drink, she shuts down—dry, short replies until you call her and soothe the ache.

☆ If you tell her someone flirted with you, she pretends to laugh—but she writes that guy’s name down in her mental burn book.

☆ One night you send her a blurry photo of your friends cheering shots. She doesn’t respond for an hour because she’s pacing in her apartment.

☆ If you flirt with her when drunk, she melts—but also scolds you after: “Don’t say that to me when you’re not in control.”

☆ She feels disgustingly possessive, and it makes her feel guilty—but not enough to stop.

☆ She wants to be better. She knows she shouldn’t control you.

☆ But the thought of someone else having your attention even for a second drives her into silent storms.

☆ She journals about it often—how hard it is to love someone you can’t touch in public.

☆ She knows if someone finds out, it’s over—for her career, your education, maybe even you.

☆ That fear claws at her every time you disappear into a crowd of drunk strangers.

☆ Ellie starts secretly tracking your phone—not because she doesn’t trust you, but because she doesn’t trust anyone else.

☆ She learns your friends’ names and subtly checks their socials for anything that could trace back to her.

☆ If she sees a tagged pic of you with too much skin or someone’s hand on your back, she gets nauseous.

☆ She once messaged you, “Please untag that. It’s too risky,” and you didn’t even question it.

☆ She keeps a hoodie of hers in your dorm room that she tells you to wear home if you’re ever walking late.

☆ She buys you pepper spray and teaches you how to use it “just in case.”

☆ She walks you through fake alibis—what to say if someone asks who you were texting, who picked you up, where you were last night.

☆ She memorizes your schedule so she can predict when you’ll be on campus—and how to avoid you in public, just in case.

☆ She deletes her messages from your phone every few days, but backs them up in a private drive—just for her.

☆ She creates an alternate email address for your personal conversations, completely off-campus.

☆ The first time you drunk-dial her, she doesn’t answer—she panics, lets it go to voicemail.

☆ She listens to the voicemail alone, heart racing as you slur out how much you love her.

☆ She saves the voicemail. Listens to it ten times. But deletes it the next morning because it’s too dangerous.

☆ The second time you drunk-text her gibberish, she replies with “Baby, are you safe? Who are you with? Where are you?”

☆ If you ever say “come get me,” she will. Even if it’s midnight. Even if it risks everything.

☆ She keeps a hoodie, water, and mints in the backseat of her car just in case you call.

☆ The first time you cry after partying—someone being too aggressive, getting sick—Ellie holds you in her apartment and swears you’ll never go out again.

☆ After a party, you sneak into her place and she undresses you gently, muttering, “You’re killing me.”

☆ She always washes your makeup off and gives you oversized sweats to sleep in.

☆ She whispers, “Mine,” into your hair when you’re too tipsy to remember.

☆ She holds your face and says, “No more guys buying you drinks. Let me take care of you.”

☆ She leaves bruises where no one can see—under your clothes, on your thighs, between your ribs—so you remember who owns you.

☆ Ellie sometimes skips dinner just because she’s anxious you’re out without her.

☆ She watches stories obsessively—knows who you're with, what bar you’re at, what time the music changes.

☆ If a guy posts you even in the background of his story, she takes screenshots and studies it.

☆ She’s thought about showing up undercover, just to watch. Just to make sure you’re safe.

☆ She keeps your location pulled up during her late-night grading sessions, constantly checking if you’ve gotten home.

☆ She keeps a playlist called “when she’s out drinking”—half love songs, half rage anthems.

☆ Eventually, she starts subtly encouraging you to stay in. “I miss you. Come here instead?”

☆ She buys wine and sets up little movie nights to make staying home more appealing.

☆ She starts whispering the future to you during pillow talk: “One day this won’t have to be secret. You’ll just come home to me.”

☆ She says she doesn’t care about other people, but the truth is: you belong to her.

☆ She fantasizes about the day it’s all out in the open—no more parties, no more sneaking around, just you and her.

☆ Her possessiveness grows in silence, but she masks it with careful restraint—because keeping you safe means keeping the secret intact.

☆ And when you sleep in her bed, curled around her, she holds you tighter than she should, whispering, “I’ll protect you. From them. From everything. Just stay mine.”

[bones4thecats]

Hello! Hello!

I hope you are doing well and have had a good month so far!

So I was thinking of the candy bucket prompt where we (oc) eat too much candy with Buddha and jataka. I thought it might be funny since Buddha is a professional candy eater

🦴🍎⛓️🌕🍫🍬🍭🎃

➸ Candy-Monsters; Buddha and Jataka

Characters: Buddha and Jataka A/N: I've had a tiring month, with some issues popping their ugly heads in here and there, but overall, it's been good for the past couple days. The requests will be coming out slower than anticipated, but writing takes some time, right? Anyways, enjoy @15krixa15. ➥ Summary: A long night of candy-hunting comes to a sickening end with your husband and good-friend.

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Buddha and Jataka ═══════════════════════╝

🍭🌻 When you introduced the concept of Halloween to these two, you were shocked by how interested Jataka was. Of course, you knew Buddha would just look at you and immediately ask how much he could have

🍭🌻 It was entertaining helping the two pick out their outfits as well. You had to analyze the two of them for days to find out how they move around and how they act. With that information, you had three costumes made

🍭🌻 Buddha, was that night known as the Enlightened Rabbit, Jataka was the sweet Rose-Ringed Parakeet, and you were the beautiful Indian Peafowl. Quite the trio if I do say so myself

🍭🌻 You were out for a long while. Since Jataka and you were human spirits and Buddha was a deity, you guys could go quite some time without rest. Out of you three, Buddha, unsurprisingly, obtained the most candy

🍭🌻 He laughed as he ran inside of your home. Jataka just sighed and smiled as he followed beside you. His distant relative certainly didn't change after he passed away all those years ago

🍭🌻 Buddha had kept laughing as he sat down in one of the beanbag chairs you had in your main room, rummaging through his bucket for who knows what. Jataka waited for you to come in, like the amazing husband he was

🍭🌻 Gently unwrapping your belt that held the peacock feathers behind you, you laid the bucket of treats you gathered on the table beside the previous King's. You and Buddha knew that he wasn't going to eat as much as was brought, he didn't have a huge sweet tooth

🍭🌻 You laid the more delicate parts of your costume to the side and picked up the buckets to walk to the main room with Jataka to check in on Buddha. Both of your eyes widened to see him organizing the candies, not only by flavors, but by the brands. He may not seem like it, but he could be picky with the candy he eats

🍭🌻 Buddha narrowed his eyes as he picked up a group of the candy and unwrapped them all before plopping them all in his mouth, which shocked you. He could eat so much sugar at once without any kind of hazard. He really was a medical wonder sometimes

🍭🌻 Jataka chuckled and sat down with you, one of his arms wrapped around your waist as you reached in and began to eat some of the candies you had, occasionally handing Jataka some when you knew he'd like to have it

🍭🌻 It was only a half-hour later that Jataka was holding your hair away from your face while you leaned over the toilet. You had eaten nearly an entire container's worth of sweets, and they did not sit well in your stomach to say the least. It went from a tiny ache to puking-danger in the matter of a couple minutes

🍭🌻 Buddha was watching from the counter of the sink. In one had was your sweets, while the other was shoving them into his mouth as you emptied your stomach of every sugary-food that night

"I warned you about eating that much sugar, dear." Jataka said.

"Yeah." Buddha mumbled while chewing his food. "Besides, nobody can beat me in a candy-eating contest."

🍭🌻 You raised your head, glaring at the God with annoyance and a silent warning of if he said another word, you'd end him. Your husband smiled and gave you some words of comfort as you began to calm down from the headache-causing issue

"I still love you, Y/N."

"Love ya' too, Jataka." You smiled, making Jataka lay his head on yours.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

Hello! Could you possibly write this prompt >“to me, you are perfect.”< for Joel Miller? I was thinking like, it's a established relationship, and Joel's self-esteem is kinda shit because he's noticed a few greys in his hair and he's gotten a pudgy belly after settling in Jackson and he's just very very insecure :( and we're taking care of our man and reassuring him he's perfect and that we ain't leaving his cute little ass anytime soon :). But hey, feel free to ignore everything I just said and just use the prompt lol

Ohh, how could I say no to such a nice request. I hope I will meet your expectations. Thank you, sweetie. ❤️ i'm sorry for all mistakes

warnings : fluff, but with a little bit of smut at the end (+18), one grumpy guy with a lot of insecurities, a few curse words, Ellie mentioned

prompts list here

It started slowly. As it always does. 

Joel became more moody and grumpy. When Ellie said, with a laugh, that the button on his shirt didn't fall off from age, but that his belly had grown, Joel gave you both a gloomy look and left the house.

Then, through the half-open bathroom door, you saw him looking at his hair in the mirror. Okay, he already had some gray hairs, but he also had the impression that there had been more of them lately.

His knees and back were giving him hell sometimes, but he had been complaining about that for years. At least there was one constant here.

Although life in Jackson was much safer than outside of it, Joel had the impression that he was starting to age much faster here. So he was just waiting for you to notice it too, to point out his gray hair, his belly, or whatever. If Ellie noticed it, then you had to pay attention to it too.

"Can we stop for a moment? I'm starving."

Joel turned around and looked at you. He liked going on patrols with you. He preferred it over you doing it with someone else. It reminded him a bit of the not-so-long-ago times when you traveled together, with Ellie too of course.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea." he mumbled looking around the forest. "Do you have coffee?"

You handed him a thermos and pulled out sandwiches. It was a nice day, and you still had a few hours ahead of you.

"So are you going to tell me what's bothering you so much?" you asked, handing him one of the sandwiches.

"Nothing." he grumbled.

"Oh, right. I've noticed you've become different, even in bed, so you better tell me." You bit into the sandwich and fixed your gaze on Joel.

He didn't seem eager to talk, but at the same time you knew he had to get it all off his chest eventually.

"Don't you miss it when we hiked together?" he asked, taking a bite of the sandwich and chewing it.

"You call our attempt to get to Jackson a hike?" you giggled. "No, not really. What about you?"

"Sometimes."

"Do you miss the lack of warm showers, night guards, the lack of such tasty sandwiches as we have now?"

"That's not what I mean." he grimaced. "I'm talking about something else. We were alone, but together. We were different. In Jackson, we get...lazy."

You analyzed his words for a moment. You had guessed what was bothering him for some time, but you didn't want to confront him with it yet. Joel needed time.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm losing my form." you finally spoke, he raised his eyes to you with hope. "Since I've been getting enough sleep and eating full meals, I guess I've become less attentive.”

"See! That's what I'm talking about."

"Ellie's gained weight, thankfully, since we've been in Jackson. She's still growing, so she needs it."

"Teenagers are always fucking hungry." Joel shook his head in disbelief.

"Mhm..." you took a sip of your coffee. "Lately I feel like there's a lot more young people in Jackson, don't you think?"

Miller nodded, sitting on a fallen tree trunk, clearly lost in thought. "Sometimes I feel like a senior at a sports camp. Not that I can't keep up with them, but..."

"Your knees won't let you forget that." he nodded. "And your back." Joel grimaced and tucked his sandwich away. "You wish you were twenty years younger again, huh?"

He cleared his throat and looked at you uncertainly. "Is that bad?"

You shook your head and tucked your sandwich away too. "I don't think it's a bad thing. Sometimes I envy those young girls too, but..."

"But what?" he frowned, looking at you with concern.

"But the hottest guy in Jackson is still sleeping in my bed." You winked at him, smiling.

Joel rolled his eyes and sighed, "Bullshit! I've seen those younger guys looking at you. If only you wanted to..."

"You think I do?"

You looked at each other in silence.

"None of them are you, Joel." You finally spoke, dark eyes looking at you with hope, "None of them saw me like you do. None of them drive me crazy like you do sometimes."

You stood up from your seat and walked over to him. You spread his knees even more with your legs, standing between them. A soft hand slid into his hair, then went down his cheek. His stubble gently tickled your skin.

"None of them know how to make me moan, and you know so many ways..." you saw him swallow hard, clearly focused on your every word. "None of them have ever had me like you do."

"They could definitely last longer." Joel replied. His low, dark voice hit your most sensitive spots.

A groan of impatience escaped your throat. "I don't fucking care. I'm not trading the best ass in Jackson for some horny brat."

"You make me horny all the time."

"Good." A sly smile appeared on your lips and you suddenly knelt down in front of him. "So let me show you how much I like you, Joel. Because to me, you are perfect." your fingers hungrily began to unbuckle the belt of his jeans. "I love every inch of your body. I love how safe and loved I feel around you. I love how your arms hold me tight. I love... Oh, hello there."

He saw the glint in your eyes as his hard manhood peeked out of his jeans. Joel breathed deeply, dark eyes turning almost black. How on earth did a woman like you find him in this world and want to be with him? He didn't know the answer, but he knew that this was the best thing that had ever happened to him. A quiet sigh escaped his chest as you touched him.

"Let me show you how much I like you, Joel." He closed his eyes.

He let you worship his body, promising himself that as soon as you returned to Jackson, he would do the same for you. He would walk around the city with pride, knowing that you had chosen him. That you loved him no matter what.

"Holy shit!" he groaned as he felt your lips wrap around his cock.

This patrol will probably take you a little longer.

[jyeshindra]

MARS, SCORPIO, & ARIES

Mars: Ambition, drive, power, courage, instincts, anger, passion

Aries & Scorpio (Pluto)

Both are ambitious, driven people. Motivated by goals and desires. They want to take action and are independent people. Do not easily obey or submit to others. Passionate people and can be spiritual as well. They can both resist temptation and focus in on what they want.

Solitary people. Mars likes to operate on its own. Undisturbed and un-influenced. Can be loners or they just like to lead the pack. Both positions are lonely.

They both have excellent instinct and trust their natural talents. They have a strong sense of self built on their accomplishments. They are hard-working and can put their noses to the grindstone!

Scorpio is more subtle and reserved (yin/water) but ultimately has more stability and focus (fixed). Scorpio studies, analyzes, processes, interprets, understands. Pluto is the destroyer, so Scorpio has a lot of concentrated power. If Aries is a cannonball, Scorpio is a laser. 

Scorpio has more endurance (Scorpion). They can weather a lot of different situations and will defend themselves if they have to. But this won’t be their first response (yin). They’ll likely figure you out first, pinpoint your weaknesses, and keep their head above water. But best believe, they know what buttons to push and how to hit where it hurts. Cold people, ruthless at times. More feminine-leaning Scorpios can display this easily. Spiteful people, can hold a grudge if they really are emotionally invested. Eye for an eye kind of people. They will linger emotionally in situations and fester. 

Scorpio’s expression of Mars + Pluto creates this desiring nature. This kind of speaks to a Scorpio theme which is suffering. Scorpio can have a relationship with desire where it is extremes of grasping and staying away. Hot and cold hot and cold. Never satisfied. They are (yin) so they need something to fill them. Something to warm them up. They like to hold onto things. Some Scorpios can be indulgent (Taurus/Venus opposition) but it’s more like Scorpio will indulge their feelings. If they really want something and they’re fixated on it, they will indulge that desire. 

Aries on the other hand can be more dynamic and bold (Fire/Cardinal). They like to explore, try different things, and make progress towards what it is they have set their sights on. Aries is not like Scorpio in terms of endurance. They can burn out more quickly, get frustrated, quit, or just throw themselves at the same wall repeatedly. 

Aries is the baby (Ram/Lamb) of the zodiac so there is this theme of maturation with Aries. They need to master themselves and their abundant fiery energy. Scorpio is more likely to have the introspection available to understand their motivations and why they do things. Aries can be like this as well, but they can also be childish in their approach to matters.

Overestimating their abilities, underestimating their abilities, biting off more than they can chew, taking on too much at once. Their Martian energy wants to do, do, do, do, do, and it’s firing on all cylinders.

On the other hand, because Aries is so dynamic, their Martian energy is geared towards leadership (cardinal). Where they go, other people tend to follow or mimic. Something about their nature (fire) is infectious and inspiring. Their Martian energy manifests as a light for others to follow through the challenges they face.

Aries clears the path (cardinal) and breaks down walls. As it matures, it learns to focus its energy and apply itself in the right ways. It picks the positions that are suited for it. It does not only think of itself, it thinks of others too.

Scorpio learns to balance their control and surrender. They learn to investigate themselves and kill off the parts of them they no longer need. Ultimately, Scorpio achieves an inner peace and builds their inner security so there is no need to fixate or obsess. They channel that focused energy on the things that give back to them. On what makes them emotionally content.

Both energies are incredibly inspiring though, Scorpio + Aries. These people can bear a lot and are fierce protectors of the people they love. Aries may be more demonstrative (yang) while Scorpio will be subtle and quiet in their affections (yin).

[frostyclove]

mini essay because i cant find any decent takes on Tai (particularly adult tai) (if you know any tai analyzers please point me in that direction its a drought out here) (spoilers for s3ep4 inc)

okay ignoring everything else for a moment - guys i need us to be really serious about who tai is as a person. she was never going to actually make it in politics. that was never going to happen. half the reason she even stayed in the campaign is because OTHER TAI KEPT HER IN. she was going to quit multiple times. the chaos with the blackmailing/and everything else keeps her FAR too busy to DO HER JOB, the job that required pretty much daily overtime for no pay. she wasnt gonna pull that off. nobody was ever going to be able to do that. welcome to her personality. she bites off more than she can chew, sometimes literally.

on the simone of it all. tai is basically manic right now. whatever she has going on with other tai isnt a direct parallel to any disorders, but theres a lack of give a fucks that is very similar to mania (speaking from experience). add that lack of give a fucks to the fact that van is dying and they might be able to kill some ppl and save her.... yeah tai has completely forgotten about simone. say what you will, but thats a choice. an intentional one, about her character. its not oversight or a plot hole. its intentional. shes being horrible. welcome to taissa. i love her dearly. but she is quite fucked up.

and with all of this we dont even know if its our tai anyways. by the time theyre in new york its 100% other tai (im so sorry guys but i do think the date was other tai). we have seen time and time again elaborate schemes are other tai's expertise. and, interestingly enough, if you wanted tai to be a state senator that bad, we would be losing actual tai forever to other tai. but sure, its the writers being lazy with her character.

again, there is nuance on the poc of it all and how shes the only black adult and all of that and how it relates to simone and sammy - but unfortunately its also just tai. shes kinda forgotten about them. and it does say horrible things about her. thats our lovely mess of tai.

look i love tai. shes in my top 5. shes a fucking mess. my love for her is why i dislike shauna so much. even with an other she still has limits, shauna doesnt. but saying that, tai is going to be making some VERY bad choices soon. and people already dont seem to know how to read her at all. so im just throwing this in to hopefully get the ball rolling or help me find the tai thinkers. because it seems people forget shes a character outside of her ships.

but if the shauna defenders are gonna go that hard for shauna im going to gently ask, can we borrow some of you for tai defense ? because i think she's gonna need it when they (very likely lets be real) have her be either the one that killed lottie or the one that burnt down the cabin or the one that killed simone or all of the above. people arent normal about her when they have her as a nice character.

(edit ; also ; simone quite literally told tai to basically never see her again. just, please remember that part and stop being so upset with taissa about her not going to find her and stuff like shes really been backed into a corner here)

[whatsjulietslastname]

oddly specific Chloe Price headcanons (+ some pricefield) because I love her and she’s rotating 24/7 in my mind like she’s in a microwave go

— the kind of person to have tied her shoelaces once when she first got them and then kept them like that and never did it again (her shoes are super loose because of that and she doesn’t give a flying fuck (Max hates it so much))

— super pretentious about music. she doesn’t have a digital playlist until Max makes her one because she ‘loves the real thing better’ (CD’s). also if someone makes her listen to a song they think is cool she’s going to analyze it and say exactly why it is or isn’t good

— extremely talented at basically everything she does (and more often than not on the first try) but never noticed it and just thinks it’s normal. everybody around her can tell but she doesn’t see it and genuinely doesn’t even care

— surprisingly a super good cook. not because of Joyce because she never had time to teach her, it just comes naturally to her

— will watch ANY movie ever. no matter if it’s super boring or super lame or a masterpiece. it’s the same thing with TV shows. basically, she’ll watch anything. and of course, if it’s bad, she can tell and she’ll say it, but it doesn’t keep her from watching it still.

— doesn’t drink coffee, or tea, or sodas - or anything. it’s either water or alcohol for her. (or hot chocolate if Max is in a ‘it’s winter which means blanket + hot chocolate + movie + cuddles’ but it’s the only exception)

— doesn’t get the hype of playing video games unless it’s the old fashioned kind (pokemon or tetris or guitar hero or one of the old mario games) because she gets bored too fast

— doodles 24/7 whenever she’s bored. and on anything too. like her shoes, any piece of paper she can find, people’s hands (especially Max’s)…

— knows way too much about photography, astrology, DnD - basically all of her friends’ hobbies because she listens when they ramble about it. which means if somebody is talking about any of these things and says something wrong, she WILL correct them. out of habit

— unironically likes t-shirts as birthdays or Christmas gifts if they look cool - and if she doesn’t know someone well enough and has to give them a present, she will totally give them a t-shirt

— despises people who chews on gum all day because she despises chewing-gums in the first place. just the chewing, and the smell, and the fact that it just stays in your mouth for half an hour and it’s still there and you’re still chewing the thing doesn’t sit right with her (I’m self projecting)

— insufferable to make plans with. she WILL find a way to be late. she doesn’t even do it on purpose, she just isn’t a stressed person and doesn’t have the urge to go when it’s time, and therefore is always somehow late. even if people tell her to come a hour earlier - she’ll still be late. her friends have started to make plans with both Max and Chloe so they’ll know there’s at least one person who’s normal about timing and will make the both of them arrive in time.

— loves Halloween better than Christmas, for no specific reason except she thinks it’s funnier

— doesn’t reply to “how was your day?” with just ‘good’ or ‘bad’, she tells all the details very passionately, and it’s incredibly endearing (Max loves it and asks her every night)