#(Scam artists the pair of them)

[silvcrignis]

Hunt A Killer || Verse Bio || Dead By Daylight

“Keira. I’m not pleased. In the slightest,” the tall blonde man suddenly in the doorframe of her office growled.

Green eyes darted up from her pile of paperwork & moving fountain pen as Keira looked back up at Lucifer, head tilted as she thought about what would have Satan seething this way. Both herself & Lucifer had moments where they got very, very angry over the most inconsequential reasons at times but she didn’t think this was exactly that. It doesn’t take her long, both she & Lucifer thought very similarly & her eyes widened as she clicked her tongue.

“You figured out the roster issue? I swear the names that aren’t crossed out on that thing have doubled.”

“Indeed. I have.”

Her next sentence was prefixed by a little cross between a groan & a growl as one hand rose to rub her temple as the other gestured him all the way inside of her lavish working space.

“I know that tone, Brimstone… How bad is it?” she sighed, internally bracing herself as he sat across from her.

Lucifer’s response was a brandished folder which was immediately taken & Keira began sorting through the multitude of photographs (really the Anomalies Department had outdone themselves on this, they needed to arrange some sort of recognition event for that team) & when she had finished she was just as irked as her colleague, her eyes now a flickering orange.

“You cannot be fucking- Something is stealing them?! Why? I don’t even fucking care about how I want to fucking know w h y Morningstar?!”

…Morningstar? She only called him that when she was deadly serious. Good. He needed them to be on the same page, he had chosen her for a reason, but sometimes she didn’t take things as seriously as she should because she knew it would annoy him. Her cooperation was one H E L L of a relief. He could feel the tension melting slightly from his shoulders as he pulled a single folded up paper from his suit pocket, holding it between his index & middle finger as Keira rose an eyebrow at him.

“… Do you want to handle this? I know you’re much better at brokering compromises than I.” he snickered, stretching his occupied fingers towards her.

(He had a point there. She was slightly more flexible though that didn’t mean she was any less ruthless in the end. Lucifer made demands, Keira swathed hers in the guise of a suggestion but they both always got whatever they wanted out of them.)

“Oh. You indulge me far too much sometimes, Your Majesty…”

“We are in Hell, Your Grace,” he reminded her as she took the offering while snickering at his veiled pun.

Lucifer’s naturally hissing voice was coloured with a tone of befuddlement over the phone

“… 500 years? How the fuck did you manage to do that? I figured that slithering sky penis would at least want you for a millennium.”

“Everyone wants me longer but that’s really up to my whims,” she purred back, grinning slightly at Lucifer’s responding snort.

“Anyway, I do have the rest of terms if you are interested. I feel like this is the start of a fantastic working relationship. Honestly a war wouldn’t be worth it. You’ve seen the roster you know our armies would just….”

“Yes, they would. It would be pitiful. But we’d be amused. However the terms would be useful considering the contract delivered to my desk was already sealed.”

“They are indeed going to stop just randomly picking from our roster. In exchange, we’ll make one for them. I actually don’t really mind their little project here besides the pilfering, it looks like something we would do if we had the time, honestly.”

“…Good… Anything else?”

“Pan’s here with me, he decided to tag along. Though there’s no extra stipulations with him, he just wanted to I’m just being transparent.”

“My condolences.”

“Appreciate you for that, I’ll need them. Now on to the best part. It took a little wheedling & eventually I offered the 500 years of servitude before it budged but…”

Lucifer could tell by her tone in her trailing off there was a reason she was saving this part for last & honestly he could indulge her need for begging this time, what she said would be more than worth it.

“Miss Black, if get any closer to the edge of my throne I’ll fall off.”

“Ooh, you’re on the throne right now? Am I on speaker?”

“Of course I am, this is important.”

“Well, in exchange for my good faith offer, if it does get bored of any of its squirmy little toys taken before todays signing… We get them. Not just the ones taken from our roster but their pissy terrified little lab rats too!”

For a moment Lucifer was silent even as the whispers among their gathered subordinates started, a slow, unhinged smile spreading on his face.

“… If I were standing next to you right now, I would kiss you.”

“Hold that thought for five centuries, keeps the euphoria alive. Though. The downside is you will be a solo act for a while again. Think you can handle reclaiming the mantel while I’m gone?”

“I’ll make it. Have fun. Also I know you must be elated sharing a field with Myers but…”

“Yeah. Fucking Ghostface… At least I might get a chance at dropping his goofy ass. Still can’t believe Regina thought I wanted a box set of his shit antics… The first Scream was okay, why the fuck didn’t they stop after that one?”

“To torment & punish you. Specifically. If you need anything…”

“I’ll use the Betelgeuse method, got it. Bye, Lucifer.”

He had already said his own farewell so he was hardly offended when she hung up. As soon as she did she cackled.

“Fucking sucker. I only have to stay in the realm during the trials… I just hate contract duty,” The Hellion snorted, folding her arms behind her head & sauntering off to her own cute little realm lovingly named “The Terror Dome”. Hmmm. She hoped these human fuckbags knew Greek mythology. The Labyrinth would be a GREAT first time theme.

@manufactoredxbyxdesign & @dcmur3 are real ones for liking that post so they get tagged in the l o r e

Also ye das right Albert keep being a bad lad & ur goin to Heck ur ass was on that roster too babyyy 👺

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

K follow me Astarion just sees tav like loving on children wherever they go and hes like?????

And tavs like ive always wanted my own child but i didn't wabt to ask you with every

This sends poor starion into a crisis does he was children how many

I think I have followed you. Let's see!

So for this one we got a lil time jump, ambiguous and vague setting and timelines with game spoilers present. M/F pairing because that is my go to and pregnancy is mentioned. Vampiric pregnancy also so there is some weirdness there (i made it up no idea if it's dnd accurate). Vague Tav backstory of a wonderful mother and going off to become a cleric.

~

Astarion was well used to your antics by this point. You had a severe lack of instincts linked to self-preservation, which led to a consistent pattern of doing, frankly, stupid shit. Stupid, but kind. Nothing that Astarion hadn't adapted to, after nearly two years of being attached at the hip you became pretty attuned to your lover's personality.

He could even go as far as to say that he had grown to love your annoying predilection for pious morality. Perhaps he loved talking you out of certain virtuous dangers more, but still. He appreciated who you were, he adored who you were. But Astarion was no saint, despite his insistence on attaching himself to one.

Which is exactly why he was far from amused when you signed him up to babysit a couple of brats. All for acquittances he barely cared about.

But you at least had the good grace to look guilty, "I didn't mean to! But she looked so tired and she said their anniversary was coming up and it's not like we got anything for their wedding-"

That was a nice try, one that Astarion wasn't falling for, "We didn't know of their existence when they got married darling. Just because I can't remember their names doesn't mean you can trick me."

"I'm not trying to trick you!" You whined, arms crossed as you pouted. It sure felt like a trick, especially when Astarion knew that you were well-aware how easily he fell for your sulking. Adorable little monster that you were, "It's only three kids and a baby for one night, it won't be that bad! You don't even have to help-"

Astarion rolled his eyes as he sat next to you on the bed, "I didn't say I wouldn't help."

That seemed to do the trick to get the pout off of your face. You perked up immediately, looking at him like you couldn't quite believe it, "Really?"

"Yes, really," Astarion sighed as you tugged you closer. Sure he liked to bitch, but he really would do anything for you. Even extremely annoying things like this, "I'm not going to sit back and feed you to the wolves."

"They're not wolves! The oldest is barely five," You laughed as you let him manhandle you, settling you into his lap, "And I am sorry, I really wasn't thinking. I promise it won't happen again."

Astarion doubted that, not when he was well-versed of your weak spot for children. No matter where you went you couldn't help but fawn over them, not to mention the insane lengths you would go to keep any child safe. It was a complete and utter blind spot, your kindness extending to them all, even the little scam artists and hellions.

It was sweet, if not extremely worrying at first. Astarion had been terrified of you finding out his past. The things that he had been forced to do, the innocents whose lives he had destroyed. But not only did you find out, you were forced to see it. Both of you were, and it had been worse than anything Astarion could have imagined. He had always found a slight comfort knowing that those he captured would at least die quickly, that at the very least they wouldn't suffer the same agonizing fate as he, just an agonizing death. But no, even that small comfort had been a lie. The horror of finding them all down there has yet to be matched. He had never felt more self-loathing, more pure disgust than the moment he had found those children, tortured and pale, all because of him.

How you didn't see him for the wretched thing he was after all that, Astarion wasn't sure. But he was grateful. You were too good for him. A fact that he was devastatingly aware of, but that wasn't going to stop him from keeping you.

He still thinks about it on occasion, despite the fact that he had done all he could to right his wrongs. They all at least had a chance now to have a life worth living, Astarion could only hope that it would be used. Their future was out of his hands now, a small comfort.

But despite his complicated feelings towards children, he was more than capable of handling them for one evening. And in all honesty, he truly didn't have to do much. He was on self-mandated baby duty, because of course you had to help out the infant that would scream bloody murder unless it was being held. Keeping her tucked against him was a move of self-preservation, if he ever wanted to retain his hearing.

Most of the night was spent amused as he watched you entertain a gaggle of toddlers. You were so... creative with the ways you could defuse their antics. It came to you so naturally, nearly like you were a born mother yourself. It wasn't exactly surprising that you were fantastic with children, he had seen it time and time again. Arabella, Mol, Yenna, all of which still wrote you letters, visited occasionally. Staying forever attached, even from a distance.

Now that Astarion thought about it, it was odd that you weren't a mother. Odder still that you hadn't never even brought up the possibility of having children together. You were usually so open with your wants and always encouraging the same from him. Just one more thing he loved about you. But... why hadn't it been mentioned? Astarion had always assumed it was because you didn't truly want any of your own, that you enjoyed their fun innocence while avoiding the more laborious responsibility of raising them.

Though watching you take care of them all, changing diapers and negotiating silly arguments with a soft smile of your face had him rethinking his assumption.

"You're good with them," Astarion said eventually after you had successfully set the older three down for the night, the baby still stubbornly clinging to him, "I don't think there's a child we've met that doesn't adore you."

You laughed quietly, walking over to kiss him softly on the cheek. Your eyes wandered to the sleeping infant in his arms, still holding a piece of his shirt in it's little fist, "You don't seem to be too bad with them either."

"Newborns don't know any better," Astarion dismissed as he tried to put her down in their borrowed crib. Tried and failed, considering how the thing immediately started to whine the second he attempted to pry it's little hand away.

Oh for fuck's sake. Astarion wasn't even going to try and argue. Instead he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall into the crib with her, seemingly doing the trick of stopping her from waking completely.

When he turned back you were staring at him with soft eyes, looking lovestruck at the simple act of him laying a child down, "Looks like she has pretty good taste to me."

"I don't think your judgment should be trusted," Astarion huffed as he walked over to you, grabbing your hand to drag you to the bedroom. He glanced back at you, his heart nearly skipping a beat from the sweet way you kept looking at him. It had his mind wandering again, those questions still nagging him.

Questions that he didn't have the courage to ask until dead of night, when he had you half asleep against his bare chest, "Have you ever thought of having children?"

He hadn't meant to blurt that out in the middle of the night, but Astarion apparently had a knack for starting important conversations at inconvenient times. Not that you minded.

You just cuddled into him closer, nodding against him with a sigh, "I've always wanted my own children. My own mother, Gods bless her soul, made it all sound so magical. Pregnancy, the early years, puberty, all of it. She loved it all. And I guess it rubbed off on me. It used to be all I could think about, before real life got in the way."

Astarion listened, a little annoyed at himself for not putting the pieces together sooner. You had talked so lovingly about your late parents, how you always wanted to be like your mother. Of course you would want children. How had he not connected the dots?

"But then I went off to the temple," You continued, "I completed my training, went off into the world to do good, blah, blah, blah. You know the story."

"So you grew out of the idea?" Astarion asked.

"Not exactly," You admitted, sounding a little guilty, "But I would never ask that of you love, it's not something you have to worry about."

That-what?

Astarion stared down at you, brow furrowed, "What do you mean?"

"I mean I know that the topic of children is... difficult for you. Considering everything you've been through-"

"I think you mean to say everything I've inflicted on others," Astarion interrupted, unwilling to allow himself grace. Especially when it came to the children of the Gur, "It was much worse for them than me."

You nodded, knowing better than to try and fight him on that particular topic, "I understand, but my point is that I can live without them. You're all I need."

It was comforting to hear, an immediate balm to a brand new set of insecurities that Astarion hadn't been prepared for. But even so... he hated the idea of you sacrificing even more for him. It felt wrong, "But-"

"But nothing," You interrupted softly, setting a quick kiss to his mouth, I'm serious Astarion, you don't need to worry. I'm happy, I love you, and everything is fine."

"I love you too," Astarion murmured, at a loss to say anything else. But the conversation didn't end there.

Astarion couldn't stop thinking about it, even long after the temporary children were sent back home. ou seemed so... sure that he didn't want children, and a week ago he probably would have agreed. But that was back before he knew that he was actively keeping you away from something you wanted. Something you had dreamed about since you were a child. And it felt wrong to be the reason for that, so, so wrong.

He didn't even know if his true feelings on the matter were real. He didn't want children for many of the same reasons he never wanted a partner. The attachment to another was dangerous, he was beyond unequipped to deal with others, let alone care for them, and the entire ideology behind love was ripe for manipulation and heart break. But then he met you and everything changed. Suddenly, caring for another didn't feel like a weakness, it felt like the strongest aspect of his entire self. Taking care of you wasn't an unwanted duty, it was intimacy. Something that he now craved. If all of those steadfast ideals could fall apart simply through meeting you, whose to say he could even trust himself when it came the thoughts around having a child?

Would having one truly be so bad? A little piece of the two of you, alive in the world? And perhaps children were annoying but... Astarion would be lying if he said he didn't have a soft spot for them. He had kept his distance before, but now he was fully confident that he wasn't a danger, no with Cazador burned to nothing bus ash and his own bloodlust well controlled. And it's not as if he was incapable of being a father, worse men than him did it everyday.

It was a confusing place to be, this tightwire of indecisiveness. Confusing enough for him to start a bit of research. He was vaguely aware that it was possible for his kind to breed, but finding out the details was disheartening, to say the least. First he had to parse out the different horror stories of babes eating their way out of their mother's wombs with actual facts, which wasn't exactly pleasant. But the truth was that it was more than possible for the two of you to have child together. It had the potential to either be as noneventful as any pregnancy, with the cavate that the babe coming out looking slightly... dead wouldn't be a permanent state of being. Or it could be as risky as carrying a child could be, with pains and complications galore, even legitimate worries of internal bleeding from the wretched thing prematurely growing claws. Not to mention the occasional, intense blood lust that could occur, an experience that Astarion would prefer you didn't have to go to.

Looking into the reality of the choice didn't help as much as he had assumed it would. If anything it just made the whole situation more real. Even if he wasn't a vampiric spawn, childbirth was risky. Maybe not as risky for you considering how Astarion would move the heavens and hells to get you the best care possible, but still. The thought of you passing, leaving him alone with the child you wanted and would never see, would destroy him. Completely and utterly.

But then again... there was the magical alternative of everything working out just fine. The two of you were both beyond lucky in that regard, considering how you'd overcome mind flayer parasites and fought and won against a near god. It was more than possible that everything would be fine, that you would have a beautiful pregnancy that would end in an even more amazing child. Then two would become three, a family of his very own.

That... didn't sound too bad. Astarion was torn. On one hand, he was almost certain that he was willing to go through with it. Not just because he loved you and wanted you to be happy, though it was the main reason. But also because... he could be a part in making something good. A child that would never suffer the way he did, the way countless others had. One who would be loved, who would have the help they needed for their inevitable unholy hungers. Someone precious for the two of you to fret over, to adore and care for. He... wanted that. Or at least he would if you still did. Now if he could just figure out how to bring it up, maybe something could actually happen.

But luckily enough for him, you did the job for him. He had been pouring over another book dedicated to recording the births of Dhampirs in the area, only to be distracted by you loudly sighing behind him.

"What's wrong love?" Astarion asked, his eyes still scanning the page in front of him.

"Oh I don't know," You sighed, rounding the corner to sit on the edge of his desk, "I just can't help but wonder when you're going to explain why you've suddenly become obsessed with parenting books. And..."

You trailed off, ignoring his surprised expression to read the cover of what was in front of him, "'Vampiric and Mortal Love & The Spawn They Create'. It's not exactly your usual reading material."

Part of Astarion wanted to be surprised that you had already figured him out. He had at least been trying to hide things from you slightly, not that it mattered when you could read him like a book. And he supposed that blatantly reading things like this in front of you would eventually have an effect, even if he tried to obscure the titles.

But that didn't stop him from stuttering through a response, "Well-I, okay. I've just been thinking about options lately. Which you can't really do if you don't understand what they are. Hence the books."

You frowned at him, one leg crossed over the other, "Star, I already told you that you don't need to worry-"

"But I want to worry," Astarion interrupted, deciding that ripping the band-aid off would be the best course of action, "And if there is something I can be doing to make you happier than I should at least consider it."

"I'm not going to force you into this for that," You said softly, reaching out to twine his fingers against yours, "This isn't the kind of thing you do just for someone else."

Astarion was aware of that, there was an important truth to your words. But... "What if it wasn't just for you?"

You paused, your brow furrowed as you stared at him, "What do you mean?"

"I mean what if, and consider this purely hypothetical, what if I wanted one as well. What then?" It was as far from hypothetical as Astarion could get, but by the look on your face it didn't seemed like that needed to be clarified.

You swallowed, looking just shy of hopeful as you played with his hand, "I... well. I guess in that case we would have a lot to talk about."

That wasn't quite the answer he was looking for. He pressed on, "So if in theory, I did want one. Would... you still be interested in having one?"

With me?

He left that part unsaid as he waited for an answer, uncharacteristically nervous as you mulled it over. But you were smiling, bright and wide, giving his hand a little squeeze as you spoke, "I think that would be the only scenario where I would want it. If that's something you wanted."

"I think it is," Astarion answered honestly, done with being coy, "I don't know how, I... I'm not quite sure how I feel about you carrying something that could be dangerous. But... in general yes. I think I want this. I do want this. With you and only you. Whenever your ready."

The next part Astarion did see coming, his arms already open by the time you launched yourself at him. You straddled his lap, kissing every part of his face as you babbled, "We can wait! It doesn't need to be now but-I just-yes! Adoption, childbirth, I don't care. All I need is to have them with you. That's all I want."

"And that I can give," Astarion laughed, delighted at your reaction. He still had concerns, plenty of them in fact, but they were hard to consider when the woman he adored was so ecstatic.

He gripped your chin, chuckling at the whine you let out for him interrupting your onslaught of affection. You didn't have to wait long, not when he directed your mouth against his, kissing you deeply as a new wave of exciting, and slightly nauseating feelings worked through him.

He didn't know exactly what was going to happen in the future. He had no idea if he would be a good father, but he knew that he would try his damndest. He didn't know how the two of you would even procure a child, but he did no one thing.

With you by his side, it would work out. All of it, no matter how hard the road turned out to be. And that was all that mattered.

[dilatorywriting]

Hi hi! So this is a request for the 4k followers thing and if it sounds like word vomit I apologize cuz I have no idea how to word this. Could I ask for prompt 10 ("I think we should go to dinner first.") with mc x azul? The scenario here is like that one twitter post that was going around awhile ago about how a falls first but b falls harder, with a being azul and how once he realizes his feelings he resigns himself to forever pining from afar bc he's convinced himself that any relationship between them would be doomed to failure since mc is from another world and would have to go home someday. But while mc is a bit dense when it comes to their own romantic feelings they've always been an upfront person and as soon as they realize they like him they kinda just,,,, barge into his office and say so, and I feel like the sentence prompt would be said by azul after a pretty intense make out session (maybe nothing spicy spicy but yeah) where at the end oh yeah he remembers he's a gentleman

Also after a bit of searching I found the twitter post I was talking about

Gender Neutral Reader x Azul Ashengrotto Word Count: 1.5k

Prompt 10: "I-I think we should go for dinner first."

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

Azul had been avoiding you.

Which was so strange and wholly out of character that the first few days of it went by in a weird sort of fugue. You hadn’t even noticed an entire week had passed in blissful, mafioso-free silence until you were heading to your Friday night shift at the Lounge and realized you hadn’t seen your favorite octopus even once. Normally the House Warden was fluttering around you like a scam artist to an old folks’ home. Poking, and prodding, and ‘ah, Prefect, I know you weren’t a fan of the last contract, but perhaps this one would suffice, hmm?’

And when you arrived in the little, employee-only locker room—still fully unbothered and not offered even a single opportunity to sell your soul—you wondered if maybe he’d gotten sick.

You were in the middle of taking some Savanaclaw student’s order when you finally saw him at all. Just a quick glance out of the corner of your eye to catch his shining, silver head of hair popping into his office. You smiled brightly and offered a wave. But Azul only went stiff and closed the door with a bang.

Which was…

Huh.

“Is Azul feeling okay?” you asked Jade between running an armload of drinks to a table of Pomefiore students.

The eel hummed and gave you one of those smiles that never really looked like it was meant to be a smile. “Our fearless leader is clinically sound.”

You frowned. Because that felt like one of the Vice Warden’s non-answers that he’d throw your way sometimes like a taller, meaner older sibling holding your favorite toy just out of reach.

“So he’s alright?” you pressed, hesitant.

“Oh, I never said that,” he chirped pleasantly, before ducking off to go catch the stack of plates that Floyd was in the process of juggling through the kitchen.

The bubbling panic popping in your gut was the worst sort of tummy ache. The kind that spread its miserable pain until it’d left your chest hurting, and head spinning, and something deeply wrong throbbing at the heart of you. Because Azul, despite his inherent tendencies to treat you like a particularly stupid pack mule, was still your best friend. The person you cared about most in all the world! Sure, he enjoyed bamboozling you and your fellow students, but, like he hadn’t done anything genuinely malicious in ages now! Like a paid hitman retiring into selling seedy vacation timeshares.

The idea of him just—just not wanting you anymore struck something horrible in you. Of finally realizing that the silly little human from worlds unknown wasn’t worth the wobbly pair of legs you were standing on. And it left you feeling small, and afraid, and—and—

“Oh? Are you feeling unwell, Prefect?” Jade called from somewhere behind you.

“Does Azul hate me?” you blurted out before you could help yourself.

The eel blinked his bi-colored eyes at you—slow and unbothered. Perhaps a bit surprised, if you had to put a name to the expression. Jade’s face was like that sometimes. An enigma. Like someone had wired him up just slightly wrong when putting it all together. On any other living creature, that sap-slow nonchalance would have certainly bordered on outright boredom, but you knew him well enough to know there was at least something else going on there.

“Why would he hate you?” he asked, equally dripping and slug slow.

“Because—!” you squawked, and waved your hands around your head. “Because!”

“I see,” he nodded. And then latched a gloved hand onto your shoulder and steered you back towards his boss’s office. He didn’t even bother to knock before wrenching the door open and shoving you inside.

Azul looked up with a start, eyes gone wide behind his glasses and jaw slack.

“What’s going—”

“The Prefect is on the verge of psychotic break,” Jade chirped helpfully, with a closed-eyed smile. “Please be delicate with them, hmm?”

And then slammed the door shut all over again. Leaving you alone with the guy who might have only very recently started to hate your guts. Or—or maybe he always had! And maybe you’d just been really, really dumb about picking it up! You wanted to scream. Or hide away forever. Azul looked like the latter was an exceptionally tempting idea, and you could see his blue eyes flicker around the room like he was looking for an escape route.

But the idea of him running away from you, that you’d never see him again—that he didn’t want to ever see you again—had something horribly enlightening clicking into place in your brain.

“Are you okay!” you asked, so loud it nearly rattled the furniture. And Azul flinched in surprise. “Did I do something wrong!”

“What?” he blinked, startled. “Of… Of course not.” He cleared his throat and stood carefully, making his way towards you in the manner one may approach a rabid racoon hiding under their porch. “Perhaps you should take a seat—”

“I can’t!” you cried, frantic. “Not if you’re upset!”

Another of those owlish, outright consternated bouts of blinking. “You can’t sit?”

“No!” you wailed. That prickling, hot, tight feeling nearly overflowing out of you. “Not if it’s my fault!”

His expression twisted up into something mulish and embarrassed, and he reached up to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with a soft huff.

“…it’s hardly your fault,” he said, sounding so stupidly sad that you just wanted to—to—

“How can I fix it?” you tried, panicked. Because he didn’t want to be around you anymore, and you couldn’t lose him. You couldn’t!

Azul sighed, gaze shifting away yet again. He offered you a tight, little smile that felt like all sorts of lies. “It’s alright, Prefect. Truly. It’s just something…” he trailed off, that forced smirk twitching off his lips like he couldn’t help it. “Something I’m learning to live with, hmm? Nothing terrible, I promise.”

“You shouldn’t have to live with something that’s bothering you,” you argued, firm. “You’re the king of fixing other people’s problems. You’re more than allowed to use all those connections and stuff to fix your own!”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t really work like that,” he tried, awkward, and you steamrolled on.

“Why not?! You’re amazing! And fantastic! And I love you so much, and you should never have to be upset about anything. And if you’re not in my life for the rest of my life, I’d rather die!” you wailed, and gasped—clapping your hands together like the idea that had just blossomed in your skull was just beyond brilliant. “We should get married!” And then, to sweeten the deal, “Think of the tax benefits!”

“I—” Azul choked, going as red as a tomato. “Y-You—”

“—love you very much!” you finished helpfully.

He ducked his face into his hands, like he could scrub the blush right off his cheeks if he tried hard enough.

“Y-You can’t—” he spluttered into his gloves. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?” you demanded. “It’s true!”

Azul’s shoulders hunched up like he was trying make himself very, very small. And then after a long moment of near hyperventilating into his palms, he finally looked back over at you from behind the shield of his fingers.

“You…” he swallowed. “You love me?”

You nodded, certain. Becauese what else could that warm, bright, all-consuming thing be in your chest be but that?

“You,” he said again. “Love me?”

“Yes,” you agreed, never more sure of anything than that. “And we should get married.”

Azul choked again and went back to hiding behind his fingers.

“Unless…” you started, trailing off as something horrible and unsure squirmed through your chest. “Unless you don’t want to, of course. It should be your choice too. Just because I love you, doesn’t mean you have to love me, y’know?”

“That’s not what I said!” he squawked, head snapping back up so fast he nearly knocked the glasses off his face. And then he went red all over again, all the way to the tips of his ears, and he was reaching up to pull the rim of his hat down over his eyes with a curse. “I just…” he began, muffled behind the fabric of his overcoat. “Maybe… dinner first?” he choked. “Before the proposal.”

“Oh,” you blinked, startled. “Of course. That makes sense.”

“That makes sense,” Azul echoed, sounding like you’d come up from behind him and walloped him with a baseball bat rather than just suggested a completely rational and beneficial mutual engagement. “I… I don’t know why I’m surprised at all.”

You quirked a brow. “Were you… expecting me to say that?” you asked confused.

This time he did look back up at you fully. Hands lowered, and the shield of his collar gone and all. The smile he sent you was small but so, heartachingly warm that it had butterflies dancing in your stomach.

“No,” he hummed, sounding impossibly pleased. “I really, really wasn’t.”

.

.

[urgardenandmine]

crushes and beats ☊ - m. lee

summary: you have a small adventure in SM's building and meet a cutie genre: fluff pairing: m!reader x mark lee word count: 2.1K

the weather was NOT in your favor on this summer day. well, not just the weather but the whole week itself.

this week was your first week within the SM building after winning what seemed to be a total scam considering you saw the ad to attend a once a year producer group session with a bunch of others from other countries. 

you received the news in your college dorm, while you were aimlessly scrolling on your x feed, just reposting a bunch of mindless posts on what a hippo would look like crossed with a watermelon. as you were scrolling on your phone, you saw the ad plastered in the usual pastel pink they would always use to market their stuff.

"CALLING ALL PRODUCERS!

Want to be a part of SM’s producing session and possibly be chosen to compose a song for our artists? Here’s your chance!

Go to our website and click the form!"

it looked inviting but what if it wasn’t real? (even though you still did it so it was real considering you were now here in their branch in korea.)

while in your dorm, you were procrastinating on your homework. though you had asked for an extension, you were already approaching the extension deadline but i mean everyone deserves a fun small break now and then.

hopping out of bed, you slid into your soft and cozy koala slippers as you took five steps onto your classic off-white rolly chair. opening up your silvery blue laptop, you typed in the link below in the post you had seen earlier. clicking enter, you were taken to a google doc form that was headlined with the official SM logo. the title read “PRODUCER SUBMISSION.” it looked promising but you didn’t have high hopes of getting in. nonetheless, you clicked out the tab and opened up your drive of beats you had made. 

the requirement was the sample be at least a minute long, which was easy considering you had full song lengths of beats. looking at each one you had in your drives, you closed your eyes and clicked on one. opening one eye, you had saw that you clicked it yet the name wasn’t shown (which was somewhat concerning since most of your files were named with the most absurd names like “cocomelon’s rival.”). you shrugged it off, somewhat confident in your skills yet not so cocky you would just automatically book a flight to korea. 

fast forward to a day later, you had received an international call and was told by their marketing team that you won! except you were like literally in the middle of school and like you had to tell your friends, family, pets, the school itself and like whoever else was involved in your life that somewhat needed you nearby. you had received the call during a small passing period between your classes, choking on your apple while surrounded by your friends as you all ate under a tree. you immediately ran to your dorm, your friends close behind as you started to pack for the weekend to get onto the paid flight to another country. 

another fast forward, you were kinda not expecting this rocky ass start in korea where you had to keep up appearances. korea was apparently dealing with a small heatwave this summer, and by small, it was literally 38C (or 101F). you were dressed in long sleeves, not really thinking much on what you packed considering you were packing every ten minutes after every ten minutes of studying last weekend. it wasn’t a good system but you did ace your sociology quiz with a 45/50. 

you were racing through the concrete halls, seeing a bunch of staff walking in the other direction as you had your laptop nestled in one arm, also filled with a binder, papers and your lanyard dangling off your hooked index finger and a single iced sweetened americano in the other hand. in retrospect, you shoulda brought your bag but didn’t want to look like a newbie in front of people who were great composers. 

scanning the glass doors, you read the labels on them except one issue, you struggled to read korean. you squinted your [e/c] eyes, looking at each door as you slowly began to walk passed the doors. one door had said “recording room/(1)녹음실,” which looked familiar since you saw that in the syllabus you were given with your other companions. standing in front of the textured glass door, you took a sharp breath in and let out a relaxed breath out. this should be a piece of cake. you already braved a flight to another country, braved talking to the security guard since you were an hour late and spoke no korean, braved asking for a sweetened americano even though you forgot the word for sugar and ALSO braved wearing a big baggy long sleeve in this weather. 

looking down at your hands, you gently squatted down and placed your cup down at your feet. inching forward with your now one free hand, you turned the handle and turned a small 90 degrees, using your behind to keep the door open. you bent down, grabbing your cup as you then turned back around and pushed your way through the door. it was heavier than you expected but you came for a music workshop, not an actual wood workshop. 

the recording studio was huge, almost the same size as your dorm. to your right, there was an L-shaped black leather sofa. the walls were a soft beige, which differed from the color of the booth as the booth itself was an eggshell white. in front of you was the equipment you had researched beforehand. 

you stepped closer, amazed at all the technical buttons and other mechanics the sound technicians had to work with while the famed idols you have heard of. realizing you were too lost in thought, you shook your head and checked the time on your watch. 1:27 PM. the session should start soon, but it was weird considering you were the only one here but maybe even producers were sometimes a little late.

making your way to the couch, you sat down and placed your equipment in your lap. setting your drink on the carpeted floor, you smiled as you took the whole room as well as the experience. this was real and happening. you were here to show off your talents. 

the door soon slowly opened, causing you to shoot up and look at the one in charge of the session. as you slowly centered your focus, the person you expected wasn’t the one you were met with.

in front of you stood a somewhat lanky and built man, adorned in a grayish tame impala hoodie. he had baggy navy blue sweatpants as well, paired with zebra adidas. as well as that, he had black messy bed hair by the looks of it and rounded frame glasses. 

“(2)아, 안녕하세요.” the man spoke, extending his right arm as he bowed. you looked at him, bowing back and trying to reply with the same greeting he had said to you. standing up straight, the man eyed you as he raised his right eyebrow, smirking.

“you speak english?” he asked, his small laugh making you feel a bit more at ease.

“yes, thank god. i mean-!” you groaned, smacking your head gently as you placed your hand into your palms trying to hide your embarrassment as you spoke before you could even think. hearing a small hearty laugh, you looked up as you saw the man chuckle and hold his stomach.

“nah, no worries! that was me before coming here too.” he said, staring at you, shifting into a more comfortable stance.

“i’m mark, nice to meet ya.” he introduced himself, extending his hand as you reached for a firm shake. the name sounded familiar but it wasn’t so close to ringing a bell. 

“sounds kinda familiar.” you spoke, making him place a hand over his heart, feigning a hurt act.

“wow~, welp, hate to break it to you but i’m kinda known here. i’m in a group called NCT.” he explained, making you nod as you finally realized where he was from. NCT. they sounded familiar but your music taste was all over the place. you solely remembered NCT as the group who basically claimed the color green. you smiled at him, showing him your pearly whites as you chuckled.

“nice to meet you, mark. i’m [y/n].” you introduced yourself, giggling softly as you did a small wave at him. looking at him, a small blush creeped onto his ears as he cleared his threat and looked away. you tilted your head, seeing him blush. you blinked, feeling your own neck get warm as your cheeks were slowly getting more color. turning your head away, you coughed softly. 

mark looked back at you, then seeing beside you your equipment as he pointed. 

“what’s all that?” he asked, walking a bit closer as he stood a foot from you. you turned your head to your laptop and papers, smiling gently as you got closer to them.

“oh! i’m here from winning the SM producer/composer competition.” you explained, looking at him as he scratched the back of his neck. his smile had faded, causing you to look at him and be a bit confused.

“i kinda hate to break it to you but the producing session was at 11:30 AM.” he revealed, causing you to feel your heart break a smidge. looking down at your feet, you could feel your energy shift the mood in the room. you couldn’t believe that you misread the rubric time. how could you have misread “11:30” as “1:30?” granted, you were also trying to do an essay overseas from your college. letting out a somewhat exasperated sigh, you looked up at mark and smiled.

“well, thanks for letting me know! i’ll be on my way.” you forced a small smile onto your face, bending down to slowly grab your things. as you reached down, you felt his hand placed onto yours. looking to your right, your eyes met as he began to smile at you.

“well, i mean you’re already here so why not just show me what you got?” he suggested, causing you to blush harder than ever. mark smiled widely, grabbing you stuff as he placed it onto the table and opened your laptop for you. he sat down on the chair on the left, reaching down to grab a cord and plugged it into your laptop. as he turned his head, he had still saw you standing there, lost in thought. he had patted the chair across from him, signaling you to sit down. 

snapping yourself out of your trance, you shook your head and made you way to the chair. mark had scooted closer to you, causing you to relax from the nerves you felt as you stared into his eyes. you opened your files, searching for one to show him. as his brown eyes read every file, he chuckled and leaned into your personal bubble, pointing a finger at one file.

“can you play this for me?” he asked. your eyes trailed his finger, seeing the file he wanted to be played. you froze, the file being named the absolute most dumbest thing ever. 

“you want me to play this?” you reiterated. you didn’t even remember what this beat/sample sounded like. you were somewhat tipsy when making this (if drinking about almost ten moscow mule during a frat party was “tipsy”). 

“yes. i would like for you to play “daddy won’t lemme see the ice king.”’ he read, laughing between each word. you groaned, smiling as you shrugged it off and clicked on it. shutting your eyes tight, you prayed to god that this file was an actual work of art. to your surprise, it kind of was. the cord mark plugged into your laptop had played the file on the surround sound speakers above you. the sample was one that was more of an r&b vibe. the sample was similar to that of jazmine sullivan or lucky daye. 

looking to your left, mark was beaming. you chuckled, looking at him as he looked towards you. you immediately paused it, now remembering you weren’t sure if you were allowed to be in here. he slowly touched your hand, reassuring you. your eyes met, making you both feel comfortable enough with one another that you could drop each other’s guards. 

“i’ll make you a deal. you and i make a sick song out of this and i won’t tell if you won’t.” he proposed. furrowing your eyebrows, you looked at him a bit confused. he laughed sheepishly.

“i’m not really supposed to be here either.” he said, looking around as if he was a school boy that got caught pranking the teacher. you smirked, leaning forward. taken aback, mark looked at you as you bit your bottom lip.

“i won’t tell if you won’t.”

⋆｡°✩

(1) = 녹음실 = recording room/studio

(2) = 아, 안녕하세요 = ah, hello

i hope this story is good for y'all nctzens! i was a part of the group but not gonna lie, jeno's my favorite but no one heard that from me...

[cherrysha]

To Be Alone

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

A/N: Getting this tf outta my drafts,,, banishment style. if its formatted wrong its because im tipsy and im too lazy to fix it,,, itll get fixed in the morning <3

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: Paranoia, weed, dubcon (since reader is under the influence), slight body horror

It’s already dark outside when you get to Yuuji’s apartment. Streetlights glimmer with a low electric buzz as you make your way up the concrete stairs. Its unseasonably cold outside, autumn air chilling through the light jacket you found haphazardly stuffed in the back of your car. He’s still blowing your phone up, probably ‘where are you??’ messages like he hasn’t been texting you that for the past fifteen minutes. Like he doesn’t know how far your work is from his apartment. You'd been friends long enough now to know when to answer his texts and when to ignore the incessant buzzing of your phone. “Jesus” you mutter as his ringtone plays. It’s been years but he’s always like this. A little too eager, like a child. Hitting mute, you finally round the corner and knock on his door. Yuuji could be so impatient sometimes.  It only takes one rap against the metal before you can hear the bolts turning, your friend’s cottony pink hair greeting you, eyes scrunched in a bright smile. You can't be mad, not when the smile that covers his face is so genuine.

“You're insane” you huff out at him, stepping into the threshold and shimmying out of your coat in the process. His apartment is always so warm, a little too warm, but his older brother blew a gasket any time Yuuji tried to turn down the heat for you.

 “Am not!” you giggle as he puts a hand to his chest, mock annoyance coloring his face “You just need to be quicker… making me wait and all.” You ignore him, haphazardly kicking out of your shoes before stepping deeper into the apartment.

“isn’t Junpei coming? We have to wait for him anyway.”

“He, uh, didn’t feel like coming out tonight” you can hear the disappointment in his voice at the statement and it’s contagious. Yuuji’s had a crush on the boy for almost an entire year, which is hard to believe given his short attention span and lack of romantic interest. With an audible ‘tsk’ you ruffle his hair, smiling at the little indignant look on his face that threatens to spill over at the touch. 

“There’s always next time, Yuuji” he nods, smile returning as he follows you into the living room. 

“Was thinkin’ we could watch Cast Away, since you don’t like the scary stuff”. If Junpei were here, you know he’d make you watch a horror movie anyway. Probably send you off to his room during the really scary parts so you wouldn’t ruin the mood. The thought makes you smile, and you eagerly nod as you sink back into the sofa. Yuuji sits down next to you with a huff, fiddling with the remote until the movie starts in the background. He’s probably watched this one a dozen times. You know you’ve seen it with him too many times to count. Without much thought he turns it up before setting the remote back down and picking the blunt up off the coffee table. Thank God he figured out how to roll them up. The last thing you wanted was another thirty-minute session of trying to show him exactly how to do it himself. 

Tom Hanks’ boring little life plays out on the screen in front of you as Yuuji mumbles something about how you would’ve rolled it better, and not to judge his sloppy technique. He’s still learning and all. You don’t look his way to reply, only muttering “Free weed is free weed.” as you focus on the movie. He's never told you who his dealer is, and you’ve never outright asked. Whoever he was, he never seemed to be in short supply. All the dealers you’ve met at college were either professional frat boy scam artists, selling little baggies of trash weed to stupid rich boys, or untrustworthy as hell. The type to sell you laced product and not even bat an eye. Good dealers were hard to find. It wasn't surprising Yuuji hadn’t told you, and it didn’t matter since he rarely liked to smoke alone. Yuuji leans back into the couch as he lazily hands the blunt to you, coughing a little at the end of his exhale. You don’t think about it as you take it from his hand. 

Friday nights at Yuuji’s feels like routine at this point. Leave work, smoke a blunt or two on his couch as he monologues about the random movie he’s put on, sober up and go home to your empty apartment and sleep in until Yuuji blows your phone up again. Sometimes Junpei or Nobara join in too, but most of the time it’s just you and him. Like it’s always been. 

Time feels like syrup as you listen to him ramble, voice a breathy sigh as he tells you behind the scenes facts about the movie. How Wilson actually had his own lines in the script, how none of the sound was useable and had to be added in during post production. A treasure trove of useless facts that you happily indulge in listening to. It’s odd to think of him taking his time to learn such trivial things. The image of him blankly staring at the cast away wiki during lecture swirls in your mind, pulling a chuckle from your dry throat. He’d definitely do something like that. Probably wouldn’t care if he was caught either. 

“What’s so funny?” he mumbles, lazy smile almost infectious as you just nod your head at him, eyes averting back to the screen. 

Toms already stranded on the island, you think this is the part where he rips out an infected tooth, at least you hope it is. You didn’t want to be around to see that on the screen again.

“You want somethin’ to eat?” you mumble at him, pushing up from the couch.

  “Uh, can you get me a bottle of water?” you nod, with a small chuckle. His eyes are glazed over, half lidded as he watches the screen like he’s absorbing any information that’s being presented to him. In about five minutes he’d probably be asleep. 

You hear the scream from the kitchen as Tom finally pulls the tooth out with the blade of an ice skate. You were too squeamish to look at the screen the first time you watched it. Even now, the sound alone was enough to gross you out. 

Yuuji’s cupboards are always well stocked with garbage. Chips, candy, instant noodles, anything you wanted. You take another drag from the blunt, head fuzzing over with smoke as you stare at all the options. Sukuna kept most of his food separate, not that you had to worry much about accidentally eating it. The healthy stuff was all his. Mostly stuff that had to be prepared and cooked. You weren’t looking for that shit tonight. 

“You should probably eat something!” you call out to him. After a few seconds with no reply, you peek around the corner, unsurprised to see him snoring away loudly on the couch. Go figure.

He usually fell asleep later, during the first half of the second movie. When the blunt was at least half finished.  At least he left room for you on the couch this time.

Not thinking much about it, you grab a pack of cookies and two water bottles. One for you, and one for the bonehead if he decided to wake up any time soon. 

Yuuji had left another blunt unattended, letting it idly burn away in the ashtray while he snored unashamedly on the armrest. It wasn’t really a problem, if anything it meant more for you. Yuuji wouldn’t mind, if anything he’d probably be happy that it didn’t go to waste… He probably wouldn’t mind if you smoked the third one either…

~~~

Idly you sip the water, heart pumping faster than it should be, skin feeling clammier than normal. You didn’t feel normal. Nothing felt normal.

He’s been passed out for too long to be easily woken up by the time you start feeling it. ‘It’ being the ever-pressing creep of paranoia along the edges of your psyche. Tom Hanks is screaming as Wilson bobs away from the makeshift raft and you can't help but to think the neighbors hear. That they’re calling the cops for a wellness check as you sit there, unmoving. The ambient lights flickering in through the curtains no longer feels warm, but rather very, very insidious. What happens if you go to jail? Will you lose your scholarship? Do you even have a fucking scholarship? You shake your head to try and clear the thoughts away to no avail. Yuuji’s groaning in his sleep, drool pooling out of the side of his mouth and the sudden impending doom bubbles back to the forefront of your mind. What if he chokes on all that drool and dies and you go to jail because you weren’t keeping an eye on him? Is it possible to choke on your own spit? 

Your fears seem to be confirmed as the apartment door swings open, deafening compared to the low mumble of the tv and Yuuji’s deep snores. You can hear whoever it is close the door before walking down the hallway. What if it was the cops? Or even worse, someone here to rob Yuuji? Fuck, if that were the case, you'd have no qualms with them taking everything they wanted. It’s Yuuji’s fault he didn’t deadbolt the door.

You let go of the breath you'd been holding when Sukuna rounds the corner. Eyes flickering to his brother, then to you, then to the blunt burning away in the ashtray. 

You must look startled, wide eyes locked on him as adrenaline surges through your body. You must look a little suspicious too. 

“You good?” he asks, and you can't help but look away from his heavily tattooed face, eyes instead focusing on how his chest slowly moves under his plain white shirt with each breath. You blink, trying to mimic the natural motion, the steady in-and-out of his lungs filling up and exhaling air. 

“Yeah… yeah. I just thought you were someone else.”

“Who?” his voice is demanding, sharp. Its always been that way. Deep and rich and hard to ignore. The only time you’ve been able to hear him speak more than a few words is when he’s bitching Yuuji out over something.

Taking, what you think is a very short moment, you answer.

“The cops?” he’s sighing at the sheepishness in your voice. Obviously connecting the dots as he moves to snuff the lit blunt out in the ashtray.

You can't help it as you continue to talk, to give him more proof of your paranoia as you try to defend your own emotions to him. After too long, he stops you. Hand coming to rub his face in a movement that exposes his true irritation.

“I just wanted some peace and quiet” Sukuna groans. He takes a moment to stare at the ceiling. 

Silence hangs in the air like smoke as you try and find the words you need. Tell him that this is a mistake, a misunderstanding.

“I can go, if, if that’s what you wa-“ 

“Just shut the fuck up y/n.” he snaps, eyes finding yours just as tears threaten to spill. You don’t know why you were being so sensitive. Maybe it was because you’d never even met eye contact with the man, maybe it was because of your mental state, who was to tell. He groans again, moving closer and placing a hand on your head. Big arms encircle your waist as he hoists you up, free hand wiping at the tears sliding down your face as he walks down the hallway. 

He’s so warm, how have you not noticed before? It’s not like you had ever been this close to him to truly know. In fact, this is the closest you’d ever been to him, physically and emotionally. You’d never felt comfortable enough, even the other times he’d come home to find you and yuuji stoned out of your minds, he usually left you two to your own devices and acted as if you weren’t there.

Before you know it, he’s plopping you down on his bed, and even just being in the quiet dimly lit room with him is more comforting than it should be. After all, he was being kind, a side of him you rarely saw.

“Still in your work clothes” he mumbles to himself, that layer of irritable disappointment still threading through his words as he curses again. Whispering something about kicking Yuuji’s ass before his big frame disappears out of the room. It hits you then just how focused he is on your well being. He’d focused in on something you thought was a non-issue, fixated on your comfort even if you weren’t.

You can hear him, doors creaking open and rummaging noises distantly echoing from down the hall, but all you can focus on is how the ambient light in his room looks sinister now that you’re by yourself. It doesn’t take long before he’s back, tossing you a pair of Yuuji’s sweats and sitting a glass of water down on the bedside table. 

“Come out and let me know when you're changed.” he mumbles, but you already have a hand around his wrist. The touch softly begging him to stay and let you find comfort. Even if Sukuna is as comforting as a rock, it felt wrong being alone. You know it’s wrong, this is yuuji’s older brother, his older brother who’s rarely home, who’s done nothing but ensure your comfort, and yet, you can’t stop the well of feelings bubbling up in your chest at his casual decency. He stays, begrudgingly sighing as he sits down on the edge of his bed. You don’t expect him to give you any privacy, and he doesn’t, but you're too focused on keeping your cool to truly pay attention to the way his eyes roam over your exposed skin, eyebrow raising at the sight of you undoing your bra and tossing it into your pile of clothing. 

When you’re finished he asks if you're tired, quieter now, observing you as if he’s come to some new realization while watching you undress. You nod your head, hesitantly sitting on the edge of the bed. Hoping that maybe if you were lucky he wouldn’t make you sleep in yuuji’s room. The thought of being left alone with your own thoughts much scarier than the man in front of you. Even if he kicked you out, you’d probably find yourself on the couch next to yuuji, being kept awake by his incessant snoring. Even now you could faintly hear it, the sound reverberating through the hallway and into Sukuna's room.

Before you can think too much about it, however, hands find your hips, maneuvering you onto Sukuna’s chest as he lays down with you. Every inhale moves your body on his, deep breaths as he slides his palms up to the back of your head, lifting it so you have no choice but to stare into his eyes. 

“Feel any better?”. Vaguely, you think this is the nicest sukuna has ever been to you, even if he is forcefully tilting your head back. Usually, you only see him in passing, any words spoken on his part come out as a grunt and nothing more. Yuuji had told you that you were Sukuna’s favorite, whatever that meant. And when you had pressed Yuuji on that sentiment he had clammed up. Said Sukuna only let you stay the night, had only ever been himself around you. Of course you hadn’t known what he meant by that; Sukuna barely acknowledged you, never speaking to you unless he could do so in monosyllabic words or grunts. But tonight, he'd been nothing but kind, at least kind in his own right. 

You nod, breath hitching as he mutters out a “good girl” before kissing the crown of your head. There’s nothing further than that, and after a while his deep breaths even out. You feel like a cat, some sort of small animal that their owner has allowed to sleep on their chest. It’s all too docile. Slowly you find yourself drifting off as well.

Your rest ends up being shorter than you would’ve hoped because Its hot. Too fucking hot. Too hot to sleep, too hot to breathe. You need out. Slowly, you slip off the huge t shirt, uncaring of your bareness underneath. You need relief in some form. It takes a few tries before you can roll the sweatpants off of your hips. Maybe if you were sober you would’ve remembered that this was not the time nor the place to be laying yourself bare, but for right now, its hard to remember your propriety. In truth, you forgot about the fact that your were a guest in a grown man’s bed, In truth, you really didn’t stop to think about repercussions. By the time you’re done, you realize you have an audience. Sukuna’s eyes are staring down at you, fingers digging into the meat of your hips to still your movement.

“Sukuna I’m sorry-“ 

“You trying to start something?” 

“No, no I just got hot and- “

“You could’ve gotten the fuck off of me” it only takes a moment before tears threaten to spill at the harsh words, at the mean look on his face as he stares down at you. Its embarrassing, mortifying, that he’s right. Before you can make much progress on getting your body off of his a tight grip on your hips stills you as he readjusts, and places you squarely back on top of him again. 

“Such a crybaby” his hips rock up, hands pressing you down further as he moves languidly against you. “Feel that crybaby?” you nod, eyes still focused on his as he continues moving. He’s hard between your legs, every press of his hips squishing into that soft spot at the apex of your thighs, igniting a new type of heat inside of you.

“There’s no use trying to take advantage of me like that,” he grunts, still moving against you “coulda just asked. I’m more than happy to give you what you want.”

Its not like that, at least in your head it wasn’t. You had made too many bad choices tonight, and all of them had led you here. Straddling his wide hips, hands on his chest as you slowly grind back and forth on top of him, gasping at the delicious friction with every swivel. Its surprising he allows it, but Sukuna just calmly rests on his elbows, transfixed with the way the material of his sweatpants moves underneath you, how he can feel the heat radiating from your core like a furnace. 

Before long he sits up, hand wrapping around your hip to force you to still. He laughs at the whine that bubbles up from your throat, eyes searching your face as his free hand tangles in between you, pressing in between your bodies until he finds what he’s looking for. His thumb presses down softly at first, gentle and languid strokes over your clothed clit until your eyes flutter shut and you mouth drops open at the sensation. The syrupy feeling doesn’t last long, only a few minutes of his hips bucking up into yours, jostling you each time as his thumb traces careful circles, until he’s had enough and presses down on your clit harshly. His body shakes with laughter as you cry out in overstimulation.

 “such a glutton” his mouth finds your throat, lips closing over your pulse point as his eyes flutter shut  at the feel of your whines vibrating through the skin there. On a harsher thrust your nails accidentally scratch down the expanse of his muscular chest, ripping a growl from him in the process. Before you can apologize, he’s cursing again, hips moving against your own as he pulls and pushes you against him. Your best friend’s brother, beneath you, panting and groaning at the feeling of your nails in his chest. It doesn’t seem real, if anything it’s more believable that you passed out beside yuuji and ended up in a fucked up dream. Unfortunately for you the dull, bruising, ache of his hands on your hips solidifies this as reality, and unceremoniously you're dumped onto the bed, underneath him as he pants above you. 

His eyes look crazed, an inch away from terrifying, as he sloppily rips your underwear from you, ignoring the sound of the fabric protesting at such harsh treatment. It feels wrong, and that alone turns you on further. Sukuna’s chest rises and falls in his excitement, and two fingers push into you, gathering slick and messily smearing it over your pussy. His hand is still wet, glistening in the low light as it wraps around your knee, pushing both of them together and up. 

“Sukuna – “ 

 “who told you to speak?” he’s lining himself up, eyes focused as he slowly rolls his hips forward. You never even noticed his sweats came off, never wanted it to get this far, but before you can find your voice -

You expect to feel the harsh burn of him pressing inside of you, but it doesn’t come. instead, his cock is pushing through your thighs, glistening head squishing through sticky flesh as he starts to set a harsh pace. The underside brushes along your folds, gathering the slickness there with every pass as his pace only gets faster. 

“Fuck” he groans, hips twitching as he stills, trying to catch his breath at the sensation, at the fucked out expression on your face. He hasn’t even fucked you and yet you look an absolute wreck. You don’t feel much better either. Every slide of his hips forces more wetness from you, more noises from you. The feeling of his fingers digging into to crook of your knees keeps you firmly planted in the moment.

“All of this,” he sighs, finally picking up the pace after being a tease the entire night, “right under my nose this whole time.” the air is pushed out of your lungs as his cock finally rubs against your clit. 

The sound of his body slamming against your own fills the room. Sukuna leans down, and for a shocking moment you think he may actually kiss you, but his head goes even lower before you can feel his teeth biting against your neck. There’s no room to breathe with him like this, your hands curling into the red sheets, his mouth unabashedly leaving marks against your throat, its all too overwhelming. The sound of slapping echoes through the room. You’re left adrift in the sensation of Sukuna fucking your thighs so vigorously, the wet schlick of skin on skin, the sound of his panting breaths. Only a few more thrusts against your clit before you’re whining, thrashing against the bed, close to an orgasm that doesn’t come. 

“Did you really think I’d let you?” He breathlessly laughs “i’m not that kind sweetheart.”

Sukuna pulls back at the last second, hand on his cock as he jerks off in front of you, kneeing at your spread legs until you’re situated just the way he wants: legs spread, breathless, as he pumps his cock in front of your tits. 

“Such a pretty thing” he murmurs, “shame this is all goin’ to waste… maybe one day-“ the groan, and sudden release that bathes your chest, is startling. You’d never thought of yuuji’s brother in this way, moaning above you as he paints your chest white. But now the truth of it was jarring enough for you to see the truth for what it was. You had fucked your best friend’s brother. Had let him finish on your chest, even let him clean you up afterwards and croon sweet nothings into your ear during the process. You were even shameless enough to fall into a peaceful sleep next to him.

When you wake, the room still faintly smells of sex. Fear grips you as you hear something down the hall. Sukuna is long gone, something you’d expected before you even opened your eyes. You know he’s probably left the apartment already, that’s not what scares you. The sound reverberating down the hall is yuuji. Singing over some shitty pop anthem blaring through a speaker. How could you explain away fucking his brother?

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Parasite: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: You're not going to let these nightmares control you. You're not going to succumb to the pain that's so desperately clutching to you. Well, that's what you tell yourself.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"If I am what I have, and if I lose what I have, who then am I?" German Psychologist Erich Fromm

Before you walk into work, you look at the building in thought. I'm going to do better. I'm going to be better. I can't keep doing this. I can't keep feeling like this. You won't let these nightmares affect you as much as you know they are. You head inside work and immediately go to the briefing room where everyone else is.

Everyone looks at you as soon as you walk in.

"Sorry I'm late," you mumble and sit down next to Spencer.

He immediately grabs your hand and rubs his thumb across the back of your hand. There is another man you've never seen before inside the room next to JJ. She must know him.

"Everyone, this is Agent Russell Goldman from the San Diego White-collar team." She smiles at Russell. "You've already met Agent Hotchner. These are agents Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss, Reid, and Y/N."

"A pleasure," Russell nods.

"We're working a white-collar case?" Derek asks.

"No exactly."

"I've been following our con artist for five years. Two nights ago, I think he killed someone."

JJ puts pictures of the victim and her crime scene on the board.

"Carla Marshall of Miami was found dead in her home from asphyxiation by strangulation. She also had trauma wounds to the head."

"Why do you think the con man killed her?"

"Last week, Carla contacted a fraud website to report a scam. The complaint ended up on my desk," Russell explains. "We spoke on the phone at length. Her story matched my guy to the 'T'. She planned on confronting him that night. I told her to cease all communications and wait for me to fly to Miami and set up a sting. That never happened."

"Do you have physical evidence confirming it's your guy?" Derek asks.

"No, but for her to be murdered the night that we spoke, I don't think it was a coincidence."

"There was no sign of forced entry, theft, or sexual assault, and judging from the MO, the motive was personal."

"What's his hustle?" Emily asks.

"Investment fraud. Basically, he's a smaller Madoff."

"To give you an idea of how convincing he is, this is a sampling of his work going back fourteen years."

JJ shows proof of complaints about this guy and everything he's been involved in since.

"He's scammed hundreds of thousands of dollars from people, but he's never been violent before."

"Con men don't usually murder but when they do, it's to conceal their crimes. They may be con men but they profile as psychopaths. They see their cons as theater and themselves as a sort of puppeteer. They have to have absolute control over their victims and their cons."

"Maybe that's why he started killing? Because he lost control?" Emily theorizes.

"The question is, how out of control is he?"

"Well, if he's spiraling, he's a danger to everyone around him. Because he's so charming, the victims never see it coming."

Russell is nervous which also makes you nervous. You put your thumbnail in your mouth to chew on it but Spencer gently takes your hand out and holds it between both of his. You smile gratefully at him but that doesn't help to ease your anxiety.

"I can't believe you guys have your own jet," Russell gasps when he sees it.

"We take turns piloting. Do you want to give her a try?" Emily jokes.

"Really?"

"No," she chuckles.

When everyone gets settled in, Derek continues the conversation from the meeting.

"What kind of forensic countermeasures does he use to hide his trail?" Derek asks.

"Fake IDs, disposable phones, prepaid credit cards, and foreign bank accounts."

"You can't track his accounts overseas?" JJ wonders.

"We can but it takes months to get the records, and it only takes him seconds to transfer money again and again. By the time we figure out it's in the Bahamas, he's already moved it to Switzerland or somewhere else. I've always been too far behind him."

"Well, we're a lot closer now because of Carla. What made her suspicious in the first place?" Emily asks.

"She needed to get her father into a retirement home. When she called this guy, Grant Dale, to free up her money, he never returned her phone calls."

"This doesn't make any sense. A con man's first instinct is flight, not fight. What makes him kill, though, isn't financial, it's psychological."

"That's what we need to concentrate on. Why Carla and why now? Morgan, Prentiss, and Y/N go to her house. Agent Goldman, why don't you join them?" Hotch asks.

He asked to be polite, not because he wanted his opinion. Still, Russell answers.

"I sent his case files to the field office. Shouldn't I stay with you and help you sift through them?"

"I'd like to go through them independently and come up with our own theories. Maybe we can see if any behavioral patterns emerge that'll help us get ahead of him."

Since you have some time left before you land, you take out your notebook that's meant for your IRT. There is no shortage of nightmares when it comes to you. The one where you get raped. The one where you give birth. The one where you're bullied in school because of your gift. The one where Tobias kidnaps Spencer. The one where Spencer gets anthrax poisoning.

You'll start off with an easy one and rewrite the ones where you got bullied for your gift. It seems like a safe one to start with.

"What are you doing?" JJ asks.

"My therapist thinks it's best if I try IRT or whatever."

"What's that?"

"Imagery Rehearsal Therapy," Spencer answers for you.

"Yeah. Basically, I have to rewrite my nightmares to have good endings, think long and hard about them, and then try to make myself dream about them. I've done it before but never to this extent. As you might tell, it's not going too well."

"You're doing a great job," Spencer says.

"Thanks, baby."

He leans over and kisses your head. He's your biggest supporter in all this.

Carla's death was personal and out of love, not rage. Due to the unsub being a con mean with different aliases and disguises, you can't get a clear picture of what he looks like, so you'll have to settle for the black shape with one or two features. All you know is that he has dark hair and light skin. Everything else is a guessing game until you have more information from him.

The unsub slams Carla into the wall with his hands around her throat. She claws at him to get his DNA under her nails but to no avail. He doesn't let go until she is dead.

"She was a real estate agent," Russell says. "She was doing well for herself until William came into her life."

"Why do you call him that?"

"He introduced himself as Bill, Billy, or Will several times in his early cons. My guess is that his real name may be some form of William."

"Most of his victims were very wealthy, right?" Russell nods. "I'm looking around this house and it's nice, but it's no mansion."

"She didn't invest as much as his other clients either. I wonder why he targeted her."

"She may have been useful to him in some other way," Emily shrugs.

"Goldman," Derek interrupts, "what was the alias he was using with Carla?"

"Grant Dale."

"Come check this out." You follow them into the back bedroom where a personal laptop is. "He set up a website."

On the screen is a website for Grant Dale Investments that shows a bunch of bullshit about investments along with some numbers to make it look official. All of this but there are no pictures of him anywhere.

"Why didn't the detectives find this before?" Russell asks.

"The locals wouldn't know to look for it. It's only one page of generic investment information. I mean, there's no contact information and no pictures of himself. Just photos of nice cars and houses. He's selling the fantasy of success. His web design is pretty basic. I mean, it's like a standard template. It would be fairly easy to set up."

"Maybe he created others," Emily says.

"I'll call Garcia." Derek takes out his phone and puts Penelope on speakerphone when she answers. "Hey, baby girl, it's me. You're on speaker."

"Oh, sug, I don't care who hears it. It's always been you."

"Listen," Derek smiles, "I just emailed you a link. It's the unsub's website."

"Do you want me to find out how he paid for his hosting services and track him down that way?"

"We'll run into the same backstopping trail," Russell says.

"Oh, you are right. That's untraceable," she says after a pause.

"Forget that, then. Can you do a search for websites containing the same content?"

"Give me a second." She types really fast to pull up the information as soon as possible. "There are nine identical websites with the same written content and pictures, just different names."

"These are all new aliases," Russell says when he looks at the different websites. "He's never had ten at once. This is all new."

The CIA assigns an agent two or three aliases at most. Any more than that, and it's difficult to keep the names straight. The fact that this unsub is juggling ten means he either has so much control that he can remember all of his names or he's spiraling and panicking. Being all these people will definitely start messing with his head if it hasn't already.

You have his aliases, now all you need is his client list if you're going to prevent another death from happening. JJ got ahold of Carla's phone records where she made several calls to an unknown number the night she died. She tracked the number to a disposable phone that hadn't been used since.

Assuming that's the unsub's phone, he discarded it right after he killed Carla. In the months leading up to her death, she called that number routinely really late at night, like bedtime late. No one does business with their investment manager at bedtime. She was fucking him. Suddenly, this is all starting to make sense to you.

"So, Carla never mentioned anything about an affair with him?" Emily asks once everyone is at the police station to discuss.

"No, but it's always been a challenge with fraud victims to be totally forthcoming. They're so embarrassed about being duped so they don't tell you everything," Russell shrugs.

"Detective Goldman, we'd like to compare notes. I'm looking at the victimology," Rossi says. "Our files point to specific victims he targeted in the first few cities. Does this look accurate to you?"

"Yes, it does."

"Once he got beyond San Diego, his victims were all over the place. There weren't any shared interests anymore. He found victims somewhere else."

"I came to the same conclusion. Where, I don't know."

"That's where we start," Hotch says.

If this unsub is going at the rate he is, he already has another victim lined up. He might even be with her right now using another fake name that doesn't represent his own at all. Just like you feared before, his newest victim shows up quicker than you thought it would. However, this victim is male. This is a crime of rage, not out of passion.

You walk onto the boat, look to the left, and see the unsub sitting down next to the victim, Nik. Nothing seems wrong, at first, but the more they talk, the more the unsub's lies start to unravel. He must have said something to tip Nik off, panicked, and killed him to protect his lies. That's what it looks like you, at least.

"The unsub and Nik are having drinks. Nik has his checkbook open and a pen out like he's going to give him some money. The unsub says something that Nik doesn't like and he kills him before he can hand over the money. If I had to guess, he slipped up and got his names confused," you say.

"This is overkill. He bashed his head in. He's completely unhinged and devolving fast."

"He doesn't know that. He's still trying to go to work and he doesn't know he's in danger of losing it at any minute like a functioning alcoholic. The unsub channels all of his energy into these cons and when the con falls apart, this is how he handles it."

You leave them to join JJ and Russell's side who are talking to Nik's wife. The unsub has used the name Randy in this particular con so that's what you're going to call him right now until you know his real name.

"How long have you known Randy?" Russell asks.

"We spent a lot of time with him in the last couple of months. He was helping us invest," she answers the question without actually answering it.

"How much money did you give to him?"

"He just kept saying we needed to be aggressive in this market. Oh, my god, This is all my fault," she whimpers.

"What do you mean?"

"When I met Randy, I brought him into our lives."

"Mrs. Mickelson, is there anything more to your relationship with Randy? We're gonna find out eventually," you put bluntly.

"Find out what?"

"Did you sleep with him?" She doesn't answer that. "Look, Randy isn't who he said he is. Randy isn't even his real name. We think this man is using his looks and his charm to target women."

"So, there are others?" When she realizes this, her eyes go wide. "I laid in bed in bed next to the man who killed my husband."

You walk away from her knowing your answer.

"Did they sleep together?" Rossi asks.

"Yeah. She's pretty torn up about it."

Just like with Carla, he burned another alias. If this guy is on a mission to eliminate all of his aliases, he's going to assassinate his victims. Carla lived in Miami, Florida. Nik lived in northern Fort Lauderdale. His victims could be anywhere in South Florida by now. It makes sense that he could be expanding his operating zone due to the economy.

However, there is something about San Diego that you noticed when looking over the files. He only stays in each city for an average of fourteen to eighteen months. When he's in San Diego, he's there for three and a half years. After that, he's never been in the same city for that long again. There is something in San Diego that made him want to stay. A woman? A child?

Spencer is looking into it while you gear up to give the profile to Russell's men and women.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[theactualsunshinechild]

Just accidentally rolled around my faves in my head a little too much and came up with a new funny little rare pair to be strangely invested in.

Hear me out: I need to put Aventurine and Sampo in a room together.

Scam Artist x Salesman kind of relationship where they're both constantly running a low key con/sales pitch on the other over any and every little thing and they both know it, but it's more fun and challenging that way.

Also I need Sampo to cheat at cards and drive Aventurine insane with it.

Aventurine wants to talk this loser into a loan and Sampo pickpockets his sunglasses and tries to sell them back to him. Aventurine does, in fact, buy them back, knowing full well what he's doing, all to get a foot in the door.

Aventurine doesn't make losing bets and Sampo always gets away scot free, so it's Schrodinger's Win.

A cat and mouse chase with two cats.

Do you see my vision here?

[s4lv4tions]

in the still of the night, i held you; nsfw

pairing; nanami kento x fem!reader summary; "so before the light, hold me again with all of your might, in the still of the night." - the five satins wc; 2.6k cw; smut (non-penetrative sex), cisfem!reader, mentions of misogyny, alcohol use an; HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! have some sweet husband material kento to take with you into 2024 :')

In your genkan, Kento kneels to undo the buckle of your heels. They’d been a gift from him not even a year ago — high-end and real leather and more comfortable than most heels, but still a pain in the ass when you've been wearing them for 8 hours. His hands are warm and soothing where they rub gently over your bare heels, setting each foot gently upon the ground afterwards. You’re stuffed from dinner and blinking sleepily, all pliable and softened by an evening of tireless socialisation and too much sake.

“That Yamada fellow,” Kento says. He stands again, brushing imaginary dirt from his suit. “I don’t like him.”

He takes the jacket from your hands, your handbag, too; hangs them up on the coat rack and then deals with his own coat, and you watch him all the while. Perhaps you had a little too much beer, because even as he speaks, you can only stare at him — the thickness of his forearms as he wrangles off his coat, the sleeves of his shirt pushed up to reveal veins and corded muscle; his handsome side-profile, his strong nose and furrowed brow and angular cheekbones… If you were more artistically inclined you have no doubt he’d be your muse. It seems especially criminal to think that Kento has never considered himself particularly attractive. Your head thuds back against the front door.

Blinking away your sudden haze — alcohol or fatigue, you don’t know —, you peer over at him, curious. “Oh?”

There's an answering hum. Neither of you move — still standing in the genkan, you in your summer dress and woollen jumper, makeup done to the nines, slumped against the door. Him in his khaki slacks and button up, handsome as ever, leaning against the wall. You're in a bubble, here — halfway between the izakaya you'd spent the evening at and your bed. It's timeless, quiet. The only thing to be heard is the distant sound of traffic through your living room windows, just around the corner.

You tilt your head in thought. “I mean, he’s a clown, but he’s harmless. Just stupid."

"I don't like the way he spoke to your friend," Kento says, nose wrinkling. Ah, yes — you knew it had bothered him. Yamada is what one would call dead from the neck up — an idiot. How he's stayed employed so long is a mystery to you, especially with the amount of complaints he's garnered from female employees. He's not a creep (mostly), just ignorant and annoying. Thinks women should quit their jobs when they get pregnant, thinks maternity leave is a scam, thinks women are too emotional for leadership positions. Tonight he'd made the mistake of ordering your friend to serve him a drink in front of Kento — not the worst thing he's ever said or done, but it irked Kento nonetheless. You'd seen your boyfriend's eyes narrow and quickly shooed Yamada away to another table with the allure of more alcohol, and hoped that was the end of it. Clearly not. "Does he speak to you like that?"

"Mm. Sometimes. I guess he didn't tonight because you were there. You're pretty scary, Ken."

He only watches you, frowning. Doesn't take the bait. "Nothing's been done about him?"

"Mm-mm. We used to report him a bunch, but it's more trouble than it's worth." Another beat of silence, and you shoot him a smile. "Don't worry about it, Ken-chan. It doesn't bother us anymore. It's like working with an overgrown child."

"A man like that shouldn't have a job in the first place."

Finally, you push yourself off of the door — stroll slowly to where he stands, arms raised to loop around his neck. His frustration is silent — it most often is — but he accepts your embrace easily. His hands plant themselves over your lower back, warm and calloused, and a deep sigh filters through his chest. His nose nudges against the crook of your neck. "Sorry. None of that is your fault."

"Mm. It's okay." Exhaling, you let your eyes flutter shut. The entirety of your weight rests on him at this point. The drunkenness is wearing off, leaving only a pervasive lethargy and meddling craving for something requiring far more energy than you have. "Hey, Ken. Wanna fuck?"

Kento's breath hitches in your ear, before he lets out a laugh. His hand brushes up your spine, and you don’t bother to suppress the shiver it sends through you. "You're so vulgar. And you're almost falling asleep, darling."

“Mm.” Nudging your nose against the side of his neck and revelling in the goosebumps that rise there, you press your chest harder against him. “I have enough in me for a quickie.”

"We're getting you to bed."

“Hm? No! The night’s not over yet, Ken…” And yet you barely fight as he urges you forward, still wound around each other like a ball of string. Through the darkened living room and past the shape of your kotatsu, down the hallway and past the pantry and bathroom until you reach the bedroom. The lights are flicked on, dimmed to something more palatable, and Kento nudges you towards the bed.

You collapse like a sack of potatoes. You realise quite suddenly that you’d expended most all of your energy for the day and were truly running on fumes — considering you can count the amount of coworkers you like on one hand, and alcohol cuts your temper short. Somehow you still have enough energy to prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as Kento stands in the doorway of the en suite, rifling through the cabinet until he comes away with some cotton pads and a bottle of micellar water.

You know you’re watching him like he’s hung the stars in the sky. You know your eyes are wide and glassy when he kneels by the bed and begins to wipe your makeup off, unfathomingly gentle — because he meets your gaze just once and laughs softly, all too fond, before returning to task. Swiping softly over your lips and under your eyes, all traces of mascara and eyeliner and concealer and whatever-else gone within a few cotton pads. Then he traces over your face with another one just to be sure — or perhaps just to map out your features under his fingers, indulgent and sweet. When he’s finished, he doesn’t leave, though — just stays and watches you in silence.

“Kento,” you say quietly.

“Mm?”

“I want you.”

His thumb nudges away a strand of hair tickling your temple. “You have me, darling.”

“Hm.” That’s not what you meant, and he knows it, but you’re too tired to actually have him, anyways. Your eyes flutter shut, heavy and sticky, and he takes that as his cue to continue — pulling down your tights from your legs, unzipping the side of your dress. Lifting it over your head and replacing it with a large t-shirt that you vaguely register as his; and then leaving you to deal with himself, presumably. You hear the rustling of fabric and the thud of them hitting the floor, the metallic clink of his belt buckle.

Still — a budding sort of heat warms your stomach; hides itself beneath your ribs and wriggles about in your mind. It’s annoying, pressing, unfaltering — flickering thoughts about how firm his biceps are; how big and warm his hands feel when they spread your legs and press your knees against your chest; how his body covers yours entirely in the throes of it all, hot and heavy and sweating with the heat of it all; the skill of his tongue, fuck, long laves of it against your—

“Asleep already?”

“Mm-mm.” You crack an eye open; glance up at him in all his glory, plaid flannel pants hanging low around his hips, a white t-shirt covering his chest. “You’re so unfair.”

As you close your eyes again, you feel him climb onto the bed beside you — the mattress dipping under his knee, the blankets rustling, and then a large hand plants itself upon your stomach. “Why’s that?”

You don’t say anything, only arching (perhaps a bit wantonly) into his hand.

“Ah. I see.” The hand smooths up and down, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin, and a deep exhale filters out of his chest. You can almost hear the fond smile in his voice when he bows his head towards you and says: “Do you really need an orgasm to sleep?”

“Are you—” Yawn— “Are you teasing me right now?”

“No.” His fingers twitch subtly against you.

“Because that would be mean, Ken-chan.”

“I’m never mean to you. In fact—” His fingers begin a slow descent downwards, bunching your t-shirt just under the curve of tour ribcage. They leave goosebumps in their wake on their path below the elasticated hem of your panties— “I’m far too lenient where you’re concerned.”

His fingers are almost icy cold in comparison to the sweltering heat between your thighs. At that first brush against you, you give out an embarrassingly high-pitched sigh, but you have no energy to feel any shame. It's not your usual reaction to such simple touch — not the wet mess between your legs, nor the noises that are being wrung from you — but between the alcohol and syrup-like lethargy… Needless to say, Kento’s fingers are thoroughly soaked within a few moments of practiced petting, gliding between your puffy lips to where you’re willing and weeping.

His fingers — those damned fingers, careful and practiced and just slightly calloused — dip momentarily into you, and you hear his breath hitch in time with yours. Your limbs are tense, now, no longer splayed every-which-way with little care; they’re coiled tightly, excitable pressure locked away in every joint, twitching with each mote of pleasure he gives you.

And oh, does he give. Your stomach goes rigid with it. He’s only tracing his fingers around your opening — watching you with eagle eyes when your stomach jumps every time he passes over a particularly sensitive patch of skin. It’s not enough to start those sparks of pleasure aflame in the pit of your chest, those involuntary contractions that make your mouth salivate — but it’s well more than enough to begin to kindle them. More than enough to get your back arching at the momentary entrance of a single finger.

“Hm.” Your sigh edges on a whimper, tapering out as you attempt to regain control of yourself. “That’s — that’s not gonna do very much, Ken.”

He doesn’t answer, at least not verbally. The finger pops back out — slickened and shiny — but there’s little time for complaint. Almost instantly his fingers dart up to your clit, circling the hardened bead in a pace you can only describe as indulgent. Indulgent for you or for him, you can’t tell, but you make a sound like the air’s been punched out of you regardless.

It’s just the start of it — you know, those tingles that begin in your clit and warm in your stomach, sent as shivers up your spine and your ribs, pooling in your nipples and fizzing in your fingertips. Just the start, but enough to have you squirming, pressing up to the few fingers that pleasure you. At your side, Kento huffs a laugh. He presses himself closer to you — dips his head so that his nose nudges against your jaw, hot air warming up your neck.

“Is that enough?” His voice is, somehow, more husky than usual — but still unerringly adoring.

“Uhm—” Then, hips jumping out into his touch — unconsciously, might you add— “Just — faster, please.”

“Greedy.” He means to admonish you, but Kento is no less indulgent than he usually is; pressing down harder, petting at you with wet sounds that reverberate through the room — shlikshlikshlik— even adding another finger to the mix, like he simply can’t hold himself back any further. It’s liable to drive you insane, the sheer sensuality of it all — the shivery, excitable pleasure that zips up and down your legs, the stuttering breath in your chest. When you gasp out, hardly able to hold your sounds in your throat, his breath comes out laboured. “There you go, darling. Take what you need.”

You’re humping into his hand like an excitable virgin, panting low in your chest as his fingers and palm grind against the slippery flesh of you. It should be embarrassing, the raw abandon you move with, but there’s nothing but fondness in Kento’s face, and your need burns you up from the inside. You’d push him onto his back and have your way with him if you had the strength — for now, you can only continue to flex your aching thighs up, shivering as the tell-tale shocks of your impending orgasm begin to creep along your spine. It's never usually this quick.

“Fuck— F-Fuck, Kento — oh, I’m—” Your mouth falls open, knuckles aching where they grasp at the sheets — your body tensing all over, waiting for the dam to break, for your body to lose complete control of itself — “Hah, I’m gonna cum — oh, I’m cumming, what the fuck, I’m—”

In seconds, Kento’s mouth is on yours — sloppy and messy, the way he only gets in the throes of passion when he cares more about your pussy squeezing his fingers than any sense of propriety. You’re not even lucid enough to kiss him back — your entire body, entire mind, is trembling with your orgasm; pussy squeezing uncontrollably around him, clit throbbing against his palm. Your toes curl and your legs kick out, frantic to ground yourself in some way, but—

“Mmf— God—” What feels like minutes later, gasping, you pull away from Kento’s lips, shuddering heavily as air filters back into your spent, pleasure-ridden body. Your entire lower half feels numb, staticky and half-dead; your head swims with a dizzying mix of endorphins and fatigue — the sudden hours of socialising and drinking hit you like a brick. If you had been sleepy before, you were bone-dead now.

You’re still twitching with the aftershocks of it all when Kento places a chaste kiss upon your forehead, slipping his fingers out of you — and, not even realising that your eyes had closed, you crack open one to peer at him.

Kento smiles, and pets his clean hand over your hair. A single strand of blond sits awry, drifting low over his forehead; between his legs, a large tent presses up against his pyjama pants. Other than that, he’s perfect — you’d never guess he just finger-blasted you to mars and back. “How are we doing?”

Limp and syrupy-soft, you blink up at him. “Hi.”

He watches as your eyes drift shut again, head flopping sideways to rest against the pillows. His question of “Bed time?” is a rhetorical one; nevertheless, you give him a half-baked semblance of a nod.

“Mhm.”

“Alright. I’m going to clean up.”

“Mmf.”

Chuckling to himself, he begins to shift to get off the bed — but your hand grasps his wrist just before he can get out of reach. He glances down at you. “Yes?”

“I’m gunna… give you… such… good head… in the morning…” A large snore follows your statement, and your hand falls to your side — and just like that, after almost an hour of bribing and convincing and urging, you’re dead to the world. Snoring your little head away and curled up towards his side of the bed, like you're waiting for him.

Kento shakes his head to himself all the way to the bathroom — off the bed, across the carpet, into the ensuite. As he stands in the bathroom, washing his hands under that cold, fluorescent light, he notices his smile hadn’t dimmed, not even once.

Never a dull moment, he supposes. He can stand to live with that.

[iris-of-bliss]

𝔽𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕣𝕤 [𝟙𝟠+]

Summary: You had a long day at work, and you finally see your boyfriend again. Later in the night, you two exchange some pleasure in bed.

Pairing(s): Steve Fox/F!Reader

Warning(s): Smut, Teasing, Fellatio, Cunnilingus

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Dominant with a bit of sub Steve Fox is what I love most ���

“C’mon, damn it!” Hwoarang curses at himself.

It was guys night with Jin, Hwoarang, and Steve Fox. They were settled down at a private hangout, that being the basement of you and Steve’s house. Both rivals Jin and Hwoarang were in the middle of playing intense foosball while Steve kicked back and watched the show. So far this has been a draw, and there can only be one winner. These two had made a deal earlier for the outcome: If Hwoarang loses, he has no other choice but to get Jin’s bike repaired. Why the hell is that? Well, let’s just say he got scammed by some lousy repairman. Jin won against his opponent at a fighting tournament, so he decided to give him a second chance. Meanwhile, Fox didn’t need to worry about this situation. He would feel entertained by the ongoing energy during the hangout. Even Hwoarang’s frustrations caught a laugh out of him.

“All this competition over a bike, eh?” he chuckled out.

The Taekwondo master growled, “Shut it! I’m focused.”

The constant shifting and spinning of foosball rods hitting the miniature ball kept going. It was almost time for Steve’s friends to leave as you planned to arrive back at eleven sharp. You were busy working a few extra hours at your job. He was worried about you wounding up tired when seeing you again. Taking you to bed was currently on his mind right now, among other things.

The redhead swears, “Shit!”

The foosball game was done. The metal rods’ spinning came to an end. Jin was declared the winner whilst Hwoarang had to do the favor.

“This is only a game, Hwoarang. Taking my bike for a repair won’t be much of a hassle,” Jin reassured as he snuck in a smirk.

The martial artist groaned, “Whatever you say, big shot.”

Steve stood up from his seat and approaches his rival. He gives a nudge to the shoulder as he chuckled, “C’mon, don’t be such a sore loser. You’ll get him back next time.”

“Oh trust me, I’ll make sure to show him-“

Their conversation was interrupted by a crack of the door. Footsteps made their way down the stairs. The trio looked back, seeing a familiar figure before them. You made your return from tonight’s job. By the looks of it, you found that they were finished with a foosball game. You were curious to ask, “Did I disturb something, or were you guys just finished with your game?”

The boxer strikes a bright smile and walks towards you, giving a tight hug, “Why of course we’re done, luv!”

He lifts you up and peppers a few kisses to your cheek. Hwoarang shakes his head while Jin hummed, “Seems like we should head out, yeah? I think Xiaoyu is waiting for me.”

“You two got girls? Heh, I’m going home to a punching bag.”

Steve looks back at the martial artist, “Going for an overnight practice? Try not to get sloppy back there, will ya?”

“Don’t try underestimating me when I pick a fight with you,” Hwoarang waved his hand back. You watch the two guests walk out the basement to the front door. It was just you and Steve in the room. Your boyfriend pulls you close by the waist, looking into your eyes softly.

“Was work alright? Ya feel any tired?” Steve was making sure if you needed any rest.

You caress his face, “A little bit, but I’d like to use some spare time before going to sleep.”

—

Changing in your nightwear after a long day felt a lot better. You’re lying down with a shirtless Steve in his sweats while you were wearing a cute and lacy slip dress night gown. You shared small chatter about the day for around ten minutes. It was an average day for each of you, but maybe a little spicing up wouldn’t be too bad.

Fox compliments you, “You know, you look like an angel in that night gown.”

Your heart flutters with joy by his sweetness. You place a hand over his cheek as your thumb brushes his skin. Leaning in for a kiss, Steve grabs you by the waist for you to lay on top of him. You yelp and giggle as you continue to kiss. Your legs were set on Steve’s sides while his hands rub along your back. One of them ended up squeezing your rear gently, the hem of your gown being lifted away from it. He wanted you to feel his entire hand knead the skin. You whimpered and your back arches due to the sly tease. That was when you suddenly grind against him until noticing a hard spot in his sweats. Your boyfriend released a slight gasp, eyes moving back and forth in embarrassment. Your movements went into a halt.

“That felt unexpected, wasn’t it?” he held a nervous laugh. Sure, you didn’t expect a poking erection, but it was barely a bother. You were already getting horny regardless. Lessening his worries, you exchange a kiss and pet his blonde strands.

“I can take care of it for you, sweetie. Would you like that?”

Steve slowly nods with his eyes wide. You kiss him once more before going down on him. You pull down his pants, removing them completely to toss elsewhere on the floor. The sight of you made him blush lightly. The position of your ass perking up while you bend down to free his cock. He’s prepared for what’s to come through the night.

You start landing kisses around the shaft to the tip of his erection. Its size was larger than you expected. You slip the tip of your tongue out and teasingly lick under it. Steve’s lower abdomen made a light twitch by your act. He brings one of his hands to stroke your hair whilst gripping the sheets. You glance up at him before continuing the show. He never received a blowjob before, so it was up to you to make it exhilarating. When your lips parted over the head, Steve pushes you down a bit, not too much to where you gag though. He isn’t a rough person himself during sex when he is mostly soft. Still, there is no such thing as not being rough on the table. Steve can go either way if he wants to.

“You’re doin’…so good to me,” the boxer praises, “That feel good for ya, dove?”

You wouldn’t fail shooting your best shot sucking him off thanks to his choice of nicknames to call you. It was becoming his enjoyment praising when you were doing such a good job pleasuring him. You make slow bobbing motions with your tongue tasting around his shaft. Your breath starting to feel hot, Steve was breathing heavily as he recognized a glint of saliva crawling out of your mouth. He massages your scalp with his eyes shut and lip bit down. His face even felt hot. You hummed with pleasure, causing Steve to whimper. This felt so fucking good to him. It was nothing but pure bliss. His hand moves down to your cheek to caress while you quickened the pace. He pushes your hair back to catch a better view. You hum on him again and pump on the base of his cock with your hand. A feeling of dampness formed in your panties due to your cunt throbbing so miserably. Your boyfriend tried his best to hold back his moans, yet would end up slipping them out.

Steve’s breathing hitched, “Ah, (Y/N)! Sweetheart, I’m gettin’ close…”

He began to feel his dick throb inside your mouth, earning an aroused mewl. His brows furrow as he clenches his teeth at the view. You tug at Steve’s boxers when sending a few last pumps around his sex. After quickly pulsating, he shot a warm load into your mouth. You suck and lick off every drop that remained. Steve’s breathing slowed down post-release. He let out a sigh and lays his head back on the pillows. You pull out with a pop and lick your lips before placing his cock in his boxers. Crawling above him, you sent kisses on his jaw and cheek. Your satisfied partner made a slight smirk and glances at you. He holds you close by your torso, rubbing the small of your back. You wrap your arms around the base of his neck.

“You tasted so good, baby. Did that please you enough?” you manage to tease. Fox nods and pecks your temple. Arms encircle your body tight, possibly meaning that Steve himself had a plan for you.

He answers you, “Yeah, but perhaps I could return the favor, right?”

You were unable to reply fast enough because of him tossing and turning you onto your back, his body towering over yours. Blush marks appear on your face whilst your hands hover along Steve’s sculpted muscles. It didn’t fail to hypnotize you much to the lack of surprise. He knew your eyes were distracted, so he kisses you again. Your eyes scurry up to his face.

“My face is up here, luv,” he inches close to your ear to kiss, “Don’t take your eyes off it.”

Since when the hell did Steve get good at flirting? You became completely speechless. He slid himself down while kissing your body in the process. His face now in between your thighs, spreading your legs apart. Steve pushes your gown upward to be welcome by a laced pair of panties already soaked. He smirks from the small mess you allowed your horny self to make.

“Already wet down there, eh?”

Your heart skips a beat as the boxer kisses the spot. You hum in a moan, causing him to look up with puppy eyes. He takes the edge of the cloth with his teeth until pulling it all off with his fingers. Throwing the panties on the floor, he lays back on his stomach in front of your cunt.

“Don’t try and suffocate me while I’m at it, will ya?” Steve asks the favor. You nod as you watched him from below. He makes sure to grip both legs tight for good measure. This was going to be a long ride for you. Kisses were placed over your womanhood again, leading to your breathing getting heavy. You were already throbbing again. He releases his tongue to lick your slit, yet the motions felt agonizingly slow. And oh it was in such a good way, too. You could even feel the tip of it tease you so badly. Your boyfriend probably learned from your earlier stunt when sucking him off. It wasn’t until the tongue’s tip found your clit before flicking a few, then going back down again. You arch your back and whimper in desperation. Your hands start gripping the sheets.

“This is all your fault for teaching me how to arouse you, sweetheart,” he recalls a memory.

Your voice stumbled, “S-Steve, I need you- ah!”

This man is such a quick learner. You remember how he had a lack of experience for these sexual scenarios. It amazed you that he can pick up some of your weaknesses and discover more. God you didn’t want him to stop. You made the urge to stay silent the whole way as Steve can handle you all to himself.

Steve’s tongue keeps making the same motions from your opening to the bit of flesh, causing you to squirm. His strong arms pinned you down by the legs to prevent any escaping. He wanted this to be absolutely perfect for you. His tongue then laps over your slit, the hot breaths touching your sensitive skin. During his work, he looks up at your reaction, your body still squirming with eagerness. A wave of hollered moans should be good for him, but not enough for the night. He makes a bold move to go deeper and slide his tongue inside of your aching cunt. Your eyes shot wide open as you moan in pleasure. You shove his head down with your free hand, and your legs weren’t able to withstand his strength to writhe out. Steve taps your leg before extending a hand for you to hold. You move yours away from his head to grab his hand. His thumb rubs over your knuckles for reassurance. Your leg leans against the boxer’s face while lying over his shoulder.

As it went on, his tongue kept thrusting in and out as well as curl in certain places. He found the right spot after hearing you moan loud again. Steve’s mouth covered your entire area, his tongue gushing with your fluid. It felt so warm and slick when sliding through your walls. He takes ahold of your free leg and massages both hips to add for the satisfaction. The inside of your pussy felt hot and continued throbbing at once. Seems like you were about to finish, too.

You broke your silence, “Mm, babe! D-don’t stop! So…good!”

Your boyfriend hummed at your approval, and grips your legs in place. The vibration against your pussy made your body snap. All self control vanished as a climax arose. A forceful release of cum is shot into Steve’s mouth. Your legs kick the air with your body arching back. It felt so god damn good, and Steve knew it. The wet release seeps away out of his mouth whilst he catches as much as he could. Your cunt flutters and squirts with endless joy. Your body shudders while you pant every breath. As you settled down, Steve licks around the remaining spots that were covered in your cum. He slurps it all up before he towers over you, examining your exhausted face. You loved to see his massive figure above yours since it turned you on so easy.

Your lover praises, “You taste amazing. Ya gettin’ tired yet?”

Although your voice sounded faint, you cup his cheek and whisper, “M-more…”

Fox giggled and sends a kiss to your temple, “Anything for you, dove.”

He kisses your flushed cheek and pulls his dick back out, pumping it for an erection. Your hands lazily roam around his muscles, becoming touchy. You trace an index finger over his arm scar, the one obtained from the labs of the Mishima Zaibatsu. Steve then aligns his cock towards your already soaked womanhood. You hold him by the shoulders with breathing turning heavy again. Pressing the tip, Steve slides in your entry with a groan. You were just as tight, no different from last time. The small veins along his cock, they caught a moan out of you. Steve licks his lips and begins to penetrate. Legs are wrapped over his waist in an attempt to get him close.

One of his hands knead your waist softly, trying his best to turn you on once more. Though this wasn’t necessary, he would succeed doing so. You cooed in a moan as you were panting at one another. The area felt so hot to the point that layers of sweat formed. Your boyfriend’s teeth clench from your tightness. He throbs around you while your pussy flutters, the wet sounds of skin ramming each other. Steve leans in to pepper kisses on your face, then moves close towards your ear. He’ll go on to whisper such pleasing words as part of his love language. How much he loved you, the ways you two were satisfying in return, all of that you wished to be eternal.

“You mean so much to me, (Y/N). I love you, ya know that?” he voiced between his breaths.

“Mm, Steve! I-I love you too!”

“I love you…”

Steve embraces you and bites into your neck, sucking on the skin. His thrusts got as quick as they could, eventually leading you to mewl nonstop. You and Steve were about to cum again. Nails claw into his back due to how large his size felt. The boxer nips off of your skin, leaving a visible hickey. You throw your head back and pant for air. A sudden feeling of your abdomen was about to snap.

A few more hits.

Then again.

Finally once more, and heavy amounts of ejaculate erupt from your bodies. A wail of moans sounded in the bedroom. Your own fluids spray against his abdomen while his hot load is aimed through your sex. Steve pounds you a few extra times for the rest to spill out. Your body trembles on the bed, turning into motionless putty underneath him. He huffs out a few breaths and carefully pulls out. He sprawls on his back to catch his breath. Sweat falls down his forehead as he runs his fingers through his hair. Steve looks at your tired state before scooting over and laying on his side. He luckily still has enough stamina as long as he watched his physique. Compared to him, you were fragile, and he treated you delicately. He must have thought that he went a little too rough, yet you never complained once.

You look up at him, eyes lidded and face red hot. Steve gave a soft smile and caresses your cheek with his knuckles. He inches his lips to yours until sending a light kiss.

“After a minute or so, I’ll help you into the shower,” he tells you as he began to pet your hair, “You can lean on me if you’d like. I probably went kinda rough on you, haven’t I?”

“No, you were perfect. I want to do this again someday…”

Steve chuckled, “Alright then.”

[ohbo-ohno]

Congrats on 1k followers!! Your fics are amazing 🫶🏻 Can I request old Victorian mansion and seance with Johnny x reader?

1k game here

tysm for reading my stuff!!! the victorian mansion isn't exactly present here, but it's the end goal!

2.2k of Soap x Reader with an old Victorian manor & a seance (ft. scam artist reader and asshole ghost johnny. no smut!)

Your newest clients are odd. That's all you can think as you show up on their property, surveying what they claim is haunted.

Usually your clients live in just slightly run-down homes - old enough to have setting bones (or "strange sounds in the night"), some odd air circulation (cold spots), and usually on at least a bit of an incline (uneven flooring that leads to "things falling off shelves at random"). A house just old-enough to cause seemingly impossible things, but not so old that the people moving in already knew what to expect.

But this house... well, it's a bit of a different story this time. Mainly because it's not a house. It's an old RV that, quite frankly, you wouldn't even bother to try and turn on.

The couple who's hired you - Mr. and Mrs. Stewart - had told you over the phone that they planned to take the old RV on a cross-country roadtrip. Seeing it in real life, you're not sure how they ever thought that would happen even before the supposed haunting.

"Oh, fantastic!" Mrs. Stewart, whose first name you can't recall no matter how much you try, rushes up to you and away from her husband. She's middle aged - you'd guess older than forty but not quite fifty - with brown hair and gray streaks, a pair of round-rimmed glasses making her eyes look bigger than they are and a tie dye caftan. "You must be the medium, Ms...?"

You give your name with a small, hopefully non-threatening smile. Poor Mrs. Stewart looks fit to jump out of her skin at any moment, her hands twitching as she lifts them to shake your outstretched hand. She cups yours in both of hers, leaning closely to you.

"Yes, yes of course. We're so happy you agreed to a consultation! Honestly, we've just been terrified, I can't even sleep at night these days, what will all the flashing and the noise and..."

You tune her out a bit as she shakes your hand endlessly, letting your eyes run over her shoulder to her husband and your project of the night.

Mr. Stewart is at least a decade older than his missus, if not more. He's fighting a losing battle with his hairline, leaving him with one of the most insane receding hairlines you've ever seen - the man nearly has a mohawk. His khaki shorts reach his knees despite being belted nearly around the ribs, and a faded polo shirt is tucked into them.

"...and my husband doesn't believe me, you know. No, he acts like I'm insane! Hah! Can you believe that?"

When the endless rambling goes quiet for a beat, you tune back in. Years of zoning out during long winded stories from your mother have given you the great gift of hearing just enough of a speech to respond.

"Well, not all of us are true believers," you say with what you hope is a slightly wise tone. You're still not great at playing the character you've constructed, but you're getting better. At least, you're getting paid more.

Mr. Stewart lets out a loud bark of laughter, then descends into a fit of coughs. Mrs. Stewart quickly moves to his side, patting his back and ignoring the way he waves her off.

"True..." he coughs again. "True believers my ass. Honey, I told you this would be a scam! Look at her - you think a medium shows up to her clients in jeans?"

You fight a blush at that. You knew you should've changed - people are never as doubtful when you wear floor-length skirts, something about pants apparently makes people think you can't see ghosts.

Not the most unfair assumption. You can't see ghosts. But not because of your pants, because they aren't real.

But that's not what you're selling to this couple. So you duck your head a little, try to keep your smile soft. "I'm sorry my informality, Mr. Stewart, but I came as soon as I got your wife's call. This situation sounded... well, I'd hate to use the word dire, but..."

Mrs. Stewart gasps dramatically, right on cue. "Dire! Oh, Lewis, did you hear that? Oh, I told you something was wrong with this damn vehicle!"

"Honey, she's just trying to-"

You cut him off quickly. "I'm here to do whatever needs to be done." You wince at the terrible line, but hurry on. "If there's a lingering spirit here, I'll be more than happy to help them move on. If there's not, no harm to you."

"Harm to my wallet," Mr. Stewart grumbles, scowl only deepening when his wife whacks him on the arm.

"We'll pay whatever we need to to have a safe vehicle," Mrs. Stewart says, her tone very pointed. "Please, we just want to be able to start our trip. We've been looking forward to it for years now!"

"I understand," you nod sagely. "I do prefer to perform my initial inspections alone, so would you mind...?"

Mr. Stewart looks positively indignant, even as his wife begins to drag him away. "We are not leaving this girl alone with our property, Cheryl! She'll rob us blind!"

"Oh, Lewis, you've got to stop seeing the worst in people! You give us a call when you're ready for us to come back, alright?" She steps quickly back over to you, dropping a keyring in your palm. "Here. The damn thing doesn't start, but the doors still work properly."

You nod at Mrs. Stewart and give her as comforting a smile you can as she and her husband make their way over to the bus stop you'd stepped off at, leaving you alone in a dark and frankly creepy parking lot. You're not sure why they chose such a shady part of town to keep their property in, but as long as no one's around you're not going to complain.

It takes a bit of effort to yank the door open, the metal a bit warped, but you manage it without too much trouble and shut it securely behind you as you finally step into the vehicle.

It's.... kind of a dump.

You're glad you brought a flashlight, flicking it on and scanning over all the contents of the RV. You can see dust particles floating through the air and there are cobwebs in every piece of furniture that has a corner, each surface covered in a thick layer of dust.

You can't help but wonder how long it's been since anyone's even bothered to try and turn this thing on, and scowl a little to yourself. If it's been that long since someone was here, there's a good chance it's devoid of anything of value for you to nick.

You scoff and let your flashlight drop, making your way to the driver's seat and flopping into it with a sigh. If you can get the engine to start thig might not have been a total waste of time.

It takes a couple tries for you to even get the key in the ignition, and a couple more turns for the engine to do more than sputter loudly, but the old beast eventually rumbles to life, the lights on the dashboard and above your head brightening the car.

"Than God," you huff. It might be a bit of a pain to steal this hunk of junk, but if you can manage it... well, it would be nice to not have to shell out money for motels every couple of nights. "Full tank of gas," you hum to yourself, frowning a bit at the little gauge. For some reason that strikes you as odd.

"Where you takin' us?"

You scream at the sudden voice behind you, jumping nearly a foot out of the chair as you whirl around.

There's a man standing in the middle of the RV. Tall and young, with broad shoulders and a dark brown mohawk.

And he's transparent. Well, at least partly transparent. The soft yellow glow of the cabin gives him an odd coloration, and you can... oh God, you can see the door to the back through him.

You can't speak. You're left standing there, gaping a bit like a fish, and staring with wide-eyes.

"Well, lass?" He asks, smirk growing on his half-there lips. He takes a few steps forward, hooks his arms around the passenger and driver's chairs and leans forward into your space.

You yelp as you jerk back, landing on the dash board and brandishing your flashlight as a weapon.

"Get the fuck away from me!" You shout, heart nearly beating out of your chest.

"Och," he tilts his head, adopts a fake-hurt expression. "But aren't you the medium? Thought your job was to make contact with ghosts. C'mon then, bonnie." His grin gets... almost salacious as he leans as close as he can to you, nearly brushing noses. "Make contact."

You can't believe it. Honest to God, you think you might've died. There's simply no way you're really seeing a ghost, and there's doubly no way that that ghost is flirting with you.

He seems disappointed by your lack of response, leaning back and letting his expression fall to a more neutral expression. "Not into it then?"

You shake your head as best you can.

He sighs dramatically, like you've done him a terrible inconvenience. "Alright then. Well, if you want to take this thing, you're only taking it to one place."

You still can't quite manage words. Even as he steps to the side, throwing himself into the passenger's seat and somehow not slipping through.

"I wouldn't mind a bit of a roadtrip with you," he goes on, heedless of your shaking and overall terror. "You're not a bad view. But this piece of shite is only going one place. If you don't want to go there, you can get out now."

It takes you a minute to work up the nerve to speak. "Wh...where?"

His eyes flick to you, and he grins again. "My home - nice old house on a hill, left to me by my granny. I was on my way there when the bawbags who own this car ran me down. Didn't even stop to make sure I was alright, can you believe that?"

You shake your head, a little numb as you slip into the driver's seat. You're unintentionally facing him, and he angles his body more towards you and laces his hands between his kness.

"You take me to my home, and I'll let you go. How's that sound?"

"You can't..." you lick dry lips, work a little more moisture into your mouth. "You can't drive yourself?"

He makes an angry noise, leans back against the window and crosses his arms. His legs - intangible as they might be - are long enough to rest on either side of your feet.

"Can't touch anything anymore." You'd almost call his expression pouty, if a ghost could be such a thing. "Can do anythin' else to this thing - turn it on, play music, make it hotter than hell, but can't drive the damn thing."

The lights flicker above you as his tone gets more angered, and you suck in a quick breath.

"Alright," you breathe, hoping maybe he'll calm down and not... what? Blow up the RV? What's the worst case scenario here. "I want to leave town, you want someone to drive you out of town. I can do that."

He eyes you, a little suspicious gleam in what look like they might've been blue eyes once. "You're taking this very well. You met other ghosts before?"

You can't help the laugh that bursts out of you, wiping a hand down your face. "No. No, as a matter of fact, I didn't think ghosts were a thing until about five minutes ago."

A little smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. "Well, rough day for you then, huh?"

You giggle a little hysterically. "You could say that again. Where's your house, anyway?"

You turn to face forward, moving the chair up so you can comfortable reach the wheel as he rights himself in his seat too.

"Oh, it's a stunning thing. Old Victorian building, up on a hill like in all the best movie. Gran always said her own pa built the place, but I'm not so sure myself. Figure if I'm stuck haunting anything, it might as well be that."

"Sounds pretty," you hum, pulling the car out of the parking lot. It's not easy to drive, but you try and keep the jerky starts and stops to a minimum.

"Oh, it is, lass. We MacTavish's have been up there for centuries now, if Gran's to be believed. Might even get to see her again, if this whole ghost thing works out."

"MacTavish?"

You see him grin as he leans forward, holding out a hand. "Johnny MacTavish, ghost extraordinaire, at your service. Long as you take me where I want to go, you and I will get along just fine."

You glance over at him as you pull up to a stop sign. You introduce yourself, reaching out to grasp his hand. It doesn't.... quite work. There's something there, certainly, but it sends shivers up your spine when you try to grab it, and you feel almost like you've been doused in ice water.

He pulls you a little closer by the odd not-quite grip, grin sharpening as he nearly brushes noses with you.

"You try and trick me, lass," he rumbles, lights flickering above you. "You might just find yourself trapped in here with me."

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

So I'll just tell myself all of the things I can't say to you yet (Fic)

Pairing: Ghostflower (Miles x Gwen.)

Chapter: 1/4.

Summary: On a scale from interested to desperate, where do you rank buying a plushie of your crush?

...Could she even still call this a crush?

As Gwen closed the portal behind her, she couldn't believe she has gotten away with it. When Miles invited her and the rest of their friends to Festival, she has been thinking about what type of music she would hear, what difference she could catch from her dimension- not this.

It has been kind of an impulse purchase, she has honestly been lucky that the money from her dimension seemed to be close enough to the bills in Miles’ universe; hopefully the seller wouldn’t have trouble depositing a glitching bill. It couldn't count as scamming someone, right?

“This was stupid,” She thought to herself, yet still hugging the brown bag against her chest, almost a bit too protective, not wanting anyone to see its contents.

She doesn’t know how she managed to hide it from Miles (or Pavitr, who was very curious about it- Gwen almost wonders if Hobie knew since he helped to move the conversation around,) or even get it without anyone else noticing. Gwen didn’t think she could come up with an excuse if any of them saw this.

But she was in her own dimension again, her dad wasn’t at home right now, which meant there was no one but her, and even in the safety of her own room, she didn’t want to look at it, as if getting it out of the bag would somehow be more incriminating than having it.

Still feeling a bit silly, she sits in her bed and finally, opens the bag and finally gets her precious cargo she has been so mindful of. On her left hand, there is a medium-sized, Miles' plushie.

It was spiderman themed, of course; she wasn’t sure how it worked, but multiple companies have started selling merchandise with his name and colours in it, even if he technically hasn’t signed anything. The quality wasn’t that good, a big head with a very fluffy body and limbs, it was kind of ridiculous.

Insanely cute though, almost as cute as him.

Groaning, she let herself fall in the bed “What’s wrong with me?” she whispered to herself as she put a hand on her forehead. Looking back, she glares at the plushie, almost as if it came home with her by itself rather than being her own idea. Sighing, she lies on her side and hugs the plushie.

She already bought the damn thing; she may as well embrace it.

Miles and she had been working on rebuilding their friendship. After months of silence, the secrets about canon and Miles’ Spiderman situation; they needed to take a step back and get a chance to breathe, especially for Gwen who was not just trying to rebuild her relationship with her dad, but catch on all the classes she missed on the meantime. Considering how things ended in HQ, she was honestly grateful Miles wanted to keep in contact after that fiasco.

There was just a small problem, her crush.

“Well, can I call it that anymore?” She thought bitterly to herself, as she looks back at the plushie that she was clutching against her chest. The little Spiderman just looked back at her; unlike the real one, there wasn’t a way to take that mask and look at his face. If she had more artistic abilities, she may have tried to find a way to give a face to the plushie.

God knows the only reason her notebook has half-made songs instead of drawings like Miles, is because she couldn’t draw like him.

Gwen wasn’t always upfront with what she was feeling, not even to herself. Part of her thought if she could pretend to be okay, those emotions would eventually leave her and she could continue her normal life. Except that it doesn’t; not with the guilt of losing Peter, not with the gaping hole that felt those months when she thought her dad hated her, and not with her feelings for Miles.

Everyone knows about his crush on her, or at least the feelings he used to harbour for her; ever since the whole situation with Miguel, Miles hasn’t been the same to her. He was still kind, and warm, but it didn’t feel like it used to be, even now.

What she has for him? It was still there, as strong as ever, and she was drowning in the feeling.

Part of Gwen wonders if the people around her had pretended not to know, or at least make it easier for her because she was in such denial she would try to shut down the topic otherwise. But Jess knew exactly what Gwen must have meant by "getting too close to someone," Miguel thinking Gwen was a liability thanks to her feelings for Miles (which was sorta right,) and Hobie- the guy probably figured out the tenth time she mentioned his name.

She has been insisting they were just friends, that it wasn’t that big of a deal; but she knows it wasn’t exactly Ham the one she has been missing all those months before finding the organization, and she wasn’t going to forget about monitoring a bad guy to spend an afternoon with Peter B.

It was kind of dumb, but she has been so glad that no one has pointed out that on a mission that would have been easy with the Spot literally out of ways to travel to other dimensions, she opened the portal right where Miles was as she ignored the bad guy until her watch screamed at her. While hugging the plushie even harder, she knows you don’t risk the multiverse just to catch on with someone, and you don’t sneak out to get a plushie of someone while obsessively making sure no one notices.

As she looked at the oversized head that mimicked Miles’s mask, she thought to herself when she was going to give up acting as if those feelings weren’t there, or it was as simple as a crush.

“I love you” She whispers for the first time, and somehow the phrase feels like it almost echoes in her mind. It feels right in her mouth, the truth she has been battling for so long.

Groaning, she looks to the roof “I’m so stupid.”

Because only someone like her would get into a mess like this. Loving someone from afar while not being sure if they could actually make it work, but wanting so badly to do it.

And yet still too scared to do anything that whispers the truth to a plushie.

Perhaps even after all this time, Gwen Stacy still only knew how to run.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Oh my g-d I am typing lines and dots as separation like this fanfiction net in 2011, jeez I am old.

So! I normally just upload my fics in ao3; however, as all we know (or so I assume because multiple communities are in shambles right now.) AO3 is down, and the best way to help is to not try to get in.

And it just so happens this fic that was supposed to be a one-shot became a short fic because the comments ended up inspiring me to do more.

The second chapter will be posted in a few moments, and the link to it will appear in this post and vice versa. The third chapter will be published on tumblr depending on how the ao3 situation goes and my mood.

Hope you like it! Leave a comment if you did, is the only reason this went past the first chapter.

Second Chapter here!

[rphunter]

⛓️‍💥for those who like tattoos a little too much—

hi! hello! other generic greeting! i’m 23, she/her, and searching for other 21+ writers to wrangle some ships for two of my newer characters. ocxoc, please! i write on discord: usually several paragraphs per reply with a healthy dose of ooc chatter. now, let’s get into the good part. 🕊️

A—39 year old woman that is the epitome of eldest daughter culture. the daytime shift has her donning a nun habit and teaching 3rd graders cursive and multiplication. the nighttime shift has her in the local casinos, hustling the poker tables for every dime they’re worth. while she keeps a friendly demeanor for children, all bets are off with others. blunt, confrontational, and impulsive with a quick temper that gets her into trouble easily. however, if you can dive underneath this surface, there’s a fiercely loyal and protective core to her. she cares to the point of her own ruination and maybe isn’t so antisocial as she first seems. mxf preferred for this pairing.

B—the 36 year old cousin of A. he’s a disowned mafia baby stuck in his frat boy phase. friendly to a fault, charming to a fault, and way too damn talkative. he’s a scam artist; his scam of choice is the mystical realm: tarot readings, palm readings, fortune readings, etc. he will not take anyone seriously unless they force him to. he places himself up on a pedestal, and everyone is either a rung higher on the ladder or a rung below (and thus uninteresting). he does have a soft spot for love and romance, though it’ll take a lot to impress him to the point of caring. any gender pairing for this one.

as for nsfw—both of these characters are more dominant. seeking vers switch characters, though this is not set in stone. dead dove friendly, specifics of that can be discussed in dms.

mainly wanting characters that can keep up with mine. banter is everything to me! please have two characters primed and ready for them (and my condolences for your characters in the meantime for what they’ll be going through). like the ad and i’ll reach out!

.

[prpfz]

⛓️‍💥for those who like tattoos a little too much—

hi! hello! other generic greeting! i’m 23, she/her, and searching for other 21+ writers to wrangle some ships for two of my newer characters. ocxoc, please! i write on discord: usually several paragraphs per reply with a healthy dose of ooc chatter. now, let’s get into the good part. 🕊️

A—39 year old woman that is the epitome of eldest daughter culture. the daytime shift has her donning a nun habit and teaching 3rd graders cursive and multiplication. the nighttime shift has her in the local casinos, hustling the poker tables for every dime they’re worth. while she keeps a friendly demeanor for children, all bets are off with others. blunt, confrontational, and impulsive with a quick temper that gets her into trouble easily. however, if you can dive underneath this surface, there’s a fiercely loyal and protective core to her. she cares to the point of her own ruination and maybe isn’t so antisocial as she first seems. mxf preferred for this pairing.

B—the 36 year old cousin of A. he’s a disowned mafia baby stuck in his frat boy phase. friendly to a fault, charming to a fault, and way too damn talkative. he’s a scam artist; his scam of choice is the mystical realm: tarot readings, palm readings, fortune readings, etc. he will not take anyone seriously unless they force him to. he places himself up on a pedestal, and everyone is either a rung higher on the ladder or a rung below (and thus uninteresting). he does have a soft spot for love and romance, though it’ll take a lot to impress him to the point of caring. any gender pairing for this one.

as for nsfw—both of these characters are more dominant. seeking vers switch characters, though this is not set in stone. dead dove friendly, specifics of that can be discussed in dms.

mainly wanting characters that can keep up with mine. banter is everything to me! please have two characters primed and ready for them (and my condolences for your characters in the meantime for what they’ll be going through). like the ad and i’ll reach out!

give a like and anon will get back to you

[cosmerelists]

Randomized AUs for Cosmere Femslash Couples

Femslash feature requested by @cosmereplay

Cosmereplay asked me to write a list promoting Cosmere Femslash Fest 2023, which is a fic exchange event YOU can participate in focused around femslash ships.

In honor of this event, I decided to do the following: I made a list of femslash ships and a separate list of AUs, and then I randomly paired them. Let's see what results!

And if any of these randomized results actually look like a fun thing to write or draw, please feel absolutely free! 1. Sports AU: Marasi & Moonlight (Mistborn Era 2)

After chasing down a purse-snatcher on her roller skates, Marasi catches the eye of Roller Derby team captain Moonlight, who wants Marasi to join her team, the Bleeding Ghosts. As Marasi is drawn into the world of Roller Derby, she finds herself being drawn to the mysterious Moonlight as well.

2. Mermaid AU: Lewshi & Raboniel (Stormlight)

As captain of her ship, Lewshi knows to beware of the dangerous but beautiful mermaids who inhabit these waters. But after nearly drowning in a shipwreck, Lewshi is revived by the mermaid Raboniel, a creature so dangerous yet so alluring that even the other mermaids fear her.

3. Pop Stars AU: Shallan & Tyn (Stormlight)

Scam artist Shallan needs to pretend to be a popstar for one easy con. But things go awry when she catches the eye of actual popstar Tyn, who is impressed by Shallan's talent and eager to teach the up-and-comer the ropes. Now Shallan needs to keep the popstar con going...or does she just want to spend more time with Tyn?

4. Boss & Secretary AU: Navani & Raboniel (Stormlight)

When Navani is hired to be Raboniel's secretary, she is overwhelmed by Raboniel's harsh standards and demanding attitude. But Navani's keen intelligence quickly impresses her boss, and now the two of them are growing closer than ever...

5. Teacher & Student's Parent AU: Vin & Shan (Mistborn Era 1)

Vin is a young and overworked elementary school teacher, and Shan Elariel is the imperious and demanding mother of one of Vin's students. They immediately butt heads, but as sparks begin to fly, something more begins to develop between them.

6. Soulmates AU: Lyn & Jasnah (Stormlight)

The first thing your soulmate will say to you is printed on your hand from birth. But Lyn was tired of being lonely, so she's dating a boy named Kal, despite both of them knowing that they're not soulmates. But when Lyn attends a lecture by the preeminent scholar Jasnah, she is shocked to hear Jasnah begin with words that Lyn has long been waiting to hear.

7. Coworkers AU: Lewshi & Venli (Stormlight)

(Ha ha this one is just canon!) It started out as just bitching together about their terrible boss. But now Venli is sensing that there might be more between them...but she doesn't want to make a move until she's sure.

8. Succubus AU: Jasnah & Shallan (Stormlight)

Shallan knew that summoning a demon was risky, but she was willing to try anything to save her family, even if that meant trying to bind a demon to steal its power. She was not prepared for the demon she summoned to be a succubus, and she was not expecting to find this demon Jasnah's presence to be so...alluring.

9. Bodyguard & Client AU: Salay & Ann (Tress of the Emerald Sea)

Ann loves being a bodyguard, even if she's, well, terrible at it. Ann has been given one last chance to not fuck up an assignment: guarding businesswoman Salay, who is searching for her father.

10. Coffee Shop AU: Siri & Blushweaver (Warbreaker)

Siri is a young woman out on her own for the first time, working at a local coffee shop. Blushweaver is the beautiful, flirtatious customer. But is it Siri's imagination, or does Blushweaver flirt more with her than with anyone else?

11. Star Trek AU: Cord & Rysn (Stormlight)

Cord is Security and Rysn is the Captain, and they are Starfleet Officers on the same starship. They've been sent on an away mission to investigate the mysterious planet Akinah, where a great treasure is said to lie hidden...

12. Detective & Art Thief AU: Steris & Ranette (Mistborn Era 2)

Detective Steris has been hunting renowned art thief Ranette for years, but the thief is always inventing new devices and weapons that allow her to escape the law every time. Steris can't deny that she's maybe getting a little obsessed with this woman...

13. Tattoo Artist & Flower Shop AU: Marasi & MeLaan (Mistborn Era 2)

Marasi runs a flower shop, and MeLaan runs the tattoo shop next door. Do I need to say more?

14. Neighbors AU: Jaxy & Ranette (Mistborn Era 2)

Ranette likes her space--that's why she bought a small cottage way out in the countryside. But now a new woman has moved in down the road, and for the first time in a while, Ranette is wondering if it wouldn't be nice to have someone else around the place...

15. Vampire AU: Vin & Allrianne (Mistborn Era 1)

Allrianne is the rich, well-dressed, and the undisputed queen of her high school. Yet there's this new girl, Vin--pale, keeps to the shadows, never seems to eat...and keeps looking at Allrianne with those predatory eyes...

16. Knight & Queen AU: Jasnah & Azure (Stormlight)

(Ha! This is close to canon too!) Lady Azure is a knight, and she's extremely good at her job. She has been promoted to guard Queen Jasnah, and when Lady Azure swears her undying loyalty, she means it. Deeply.

17. Nerd & Jock AU: Lyn & Laran (Stormlight)

As captain of their college basketball team, Lyn has the popularity and the swagger. Yet she finds herself strangely drawn to that nerdy math major, Laran. Despite her teammates' ribbing, Lyn thinks she might just shoot her shot...

18. Fake Dating AU: Shallan & Vin (Stormlight & Mistborn Era 1)

Shallan MAY have been lying to her family about having a girlfriend to keep them off her back. But now her family is insisting on meeting her girlfriend at the next family reunion, and Shallan needs to think of something FAST. So she puts out an ad offering to pay someone to just pretend to be her girlfriend for a few hours, and who should answer but this girl Vin...

19. College AU: Navani & Evi (Stormlight)

Navani and Evi meet through their college boyfriends--brothers, in fact, brothers who are always so busy with their business majors that Navani and Evi often find themselves alone. Together. Feeling something grow between them...

20. Sugar Mama AU: Yumi & Akane (Yumi and the Nightmare Painter)

Yumi is a struggling artist; she works harder than ANYONE yet can't seem to make ends meet. So when she's contacted by the mysterious Akane who offers to be her sugar mama, Yumi jumps at the chance. It doesn't hurt that Akane is an actual goddess in terms of looks... Happy Femlash Fest 2023, everyone!

[bastardblvd]

Question who are all the residents of grimetown and what do they do?

so this is not a complete list of grimetown residents as we have over 60 of them at this point and i cannot remember them all but i'll take a stab at it:

the original slimeball freeloader!toji who, as the name suggests, has no career and freeloads off his partners/hookups/child/etc. known to scam and swindle. drives a flintstones-style cardboard vehicle, and by driving i mean runs everywhere.

evil landlord!sukuna who owns every building in grimetown

at the mcdonald's on the intersection of struggle street and bastard boulevard is the only employee mcdonald’s manager!aki hayakawa

dmv employee!yuuta okkotsu behind the counter with his big wet moose eyes, has longstanding beef with the aforementioned mcdonald's manager

the law and order hot cop!nanami

fake osha inspector!kishibe who can be persuaded into giving you a passing grade if you flash your tits and/or bits

rich boy!megumi, son of freeloader!toji and the bougiest bitch in all of grimetown (after his stepdaddy gojo)

tattoo artist!choso who tattoos out of his little brother's home gym

speaking of, gym owner!yuuji with his modest home gym

worst rated nail tech!nobara kugisaki

tiktok stars!denji and power (only tiktok stars as a pair, otherwise they are general slimeballs and menaces to society)

former drug dealer and now jobless!naoya who is freeloading in stepdaddy merc's residence after the new dealer in town put him out of business <3

best in the game weed dealer!recovery girl

grave digger!maki

perverted old men peepaw!jiraiya and peepaw!kishibe

their caretaker nurse!kakashi

professional car dealership noodle floaty!satoru gojo

slutty postman!getou

line cook!dabi

slimeball starbucks barista!denki

slimeball starbucks manager!bakugou

taxi driver!zoro (also a lifeguard)

line cook!sanji

tattoo artist!eren jaeger

dental hygienist!eren jaeger

dentist!mahito

dentist!orochimaru

slutty starbucks barista!dabi

sex shop owners!satosugu

mall cop!mai zen'in

used car salesman!kirishima

ikea warehouse employee!kirishima

daycare employee!yor forger

gas station employee!yoshida

odd jobs handyman!deku

receptionist and discord mod!inumaki

toji joe's owner!toji (like trader joe's)

hooters waitress!toji

[wipbigbang]

Round 2 Of Artists Claims For The Regular WIPBB Are Open! Round 2 lasts until July 31st! You may claim 3 fics this round!

This is one of the fics open for claiming...

Hacks HBO #047 Title: Just Like Heaven Pairing/Characters: Ava/Deborah Rating: Teen | T Warnings/Tags: No Warnings apply age gap, medical coma Summary: Ava moves into her new house in LA, a beautiful and fully furnished place, a bit old fashioned maybe and some things aren't how she would have decorated it, but all in all she really likes it, and with how close it is to her new job in Television city, it seems to be the perfect place - until one evening, she runs into a woman who says she lives there, accuses Ava of being a crazed fan or a robber, and when Ava defends herself and tells her she just moved in, the woman - Deborah - replies that there must have been a mistake, some kind of scam perhaps, because she can't possibly have moved into the house: it's Deborah house, she has lived here for decades for fuck's sake! It takes them a while to figure out that while that's all true, Ava is the only one who can actually see Deborah...

The list of remaining fics and the link to sign up are below!