#I feel VERY normal I don’t know about you

[icepopstar5105us]

“Hey. Uh, Johnny?” Danny said awkwardly, “What does it mean when one of the older ghosts calls you their favored and why does it freak people out?”

Johnny 13 gave the halfa a bewildered look, “Dude. Didn’t you listen to Death? At all?”

“Death?” Danny scrunched his face, “What do you mean? I don’t…”

“Wait.” Johnny straightened, “You’ve talked with Death, right? She explained-?”

Danny shook his head, confused, “Was I supposed to?”

“When you first died, she’s supposed to appear. She gives a whole spiel and then transfers a bunch of information.” Johnny frowned, “She did it for Plasmius, so it’s not a halfa thing.”

“Oh.” Danny looked down, “What if… What if someone died and came back a few times very quickly? Would that… Would that cause any problems?”

Johnny stilled, horrified, “Ok. Look, do you want to talk about your death? Because I’m not asking if you don’t, but...”

“I guess…” Danny said, “So you know that my parents made the portal, right?”

“Yeah.” Johnny said.

“They’d been trying to do it for a long time. Plasmius actually worked with them for a while back when they were in college. It’s why all of their tech is similar in design.” Danny explained, “They built the thing, plugged it in, turned it on… and nothing.”

“But it works now.” Johnny frowned.

“Yeah. It does.” Danny nodded, “But remember my friends? Sam and Tucker?”

“The edgy emo and the computer geek?”

“As Sam’s friend, I am obligated to inform you that she is goth not emo… but yes, those two.” Danny smiled sadly, “My mom and dad were upset. They left the house and Jazz was working her shift at a library. The whole house was empty and I was… you know. A normal teenager home alone.”

Johnny snorted at that, “Ah yes. A completely normal teenager

“Yeah, yeah. The point is, the first thing I did after being left home alone was call my friends over.” Danny rolled his eyes, “Told them what happened and… It was Sam who suggested we go down there first — she’s always been into ghost and occult stuff — and look around. Tucker was down, because it was tech even if we didn’t think most of the tech would work. He wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to mess around with it. Jazz had given me some lectures on lab safety — my parents don’t usually follow it themselves — and I had a bad feeling so I put on the Hazmat suit.”

“That’s not a superhero costume you came up with?” Johnny asked, eyes widening.

“No, um. It’s a hazmat suit. The only way I changed my form was the insignia and even then that was Sam’s idea.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, but um….” Danny paused, “We wound up standing outside the portal. It wasn’t working or anything, but there was a big spooky metal hole in the wall. You know, the kind of thing you’d expect in sci-fi movies. Sam dared me to go in and I was nervous. That bad feeling just intensified, but again — fourteen. I wasn’t being smart about it. So… I went into it. I kept going and it was dark. I was turning back when I tripped and I flailed. Accidentally hit some button that was on the side and it turned on.”

Johnny took a sharp breath.

“And um. Did you know that the portal takes a lot of electricity to start up?” Danny joked weakly, “Took three blocks worth. Um, lots of ectoplasm, too — from both the zone and the artificial stuff my parents use.” He shuffled, “So um, turns out both those things can revive and kill people. So I just kind of — died and revived a lot until it turned on and basically spat me out into the lab.

“That’s - Kid…”

“So um, maybe since I was dying and reviving so much death didn’t have a chance to fill me in? Honestly, would have like the heads up.” Danny said sheepishly, “I didn’t even understand what had happened until ghosts started coming through the portal.”

“Seriously?”

Danny shrugged, “I mean, I kind of suspected. I was falling through floors. It was hard to ignore, but I didn’t know - My parents are good inventors, but not the best scientists and it made things hard to figure out.”

“What? You bought that whole non-sentient BS?”

“No.” Danny shook his head, “I just didn’t buy any of it — and I mean none of it. I wanted nothing to do with the whole thing. The whole town thought my parents were crazy, they were always in the lab working, and I only ever saw them briefly once or twice a day. Don’t get me wrong. They’re still my parents and I love them, but… they have two big priorities. Their work and their kids. Their work is just… a higher priority to them.”

“Oh.” Johnny cringed, “Oh. Kid…”

“So yeah. Life sucks. Death sucks… but I really need to know what to do and why Ember is freaking out over me being called ‘favored one’.”

“Uh, right.” Johnny paused, “Well, it’s like old ghost language. Um. Basically, it’s like being called a really, really close friend or adopted family. Kind of like… ‘hey, this is my person that I love and protect’. It’s platonic unless they specify otherwise.”

“Huh, okay.” Danny blinked, “That makes sense, but why would Ember freak out?”

“Well… who called you that?”

“Oh! Clockwork and Pandora call me that when I visit.”

Johnny blanched, “What?”

“And now you’re freaking out, too.”

“You’ve been just- Kid! Are you just casually talking to them?”

“Um, yeah? They said it was okay?”

“Do you know nothing about the hierarchy of the- Wait. No. You didn’t get to talk to Death. Of course you don’t-“ Johnny sighed — covering his eyes, “Okay, so do you know what the ancients are?”

“I thought that was just a saying.”

“No, it’s not-” Johnny pinched the bridge of his nose, “The Ancients are the most powerful spirits in the Zone. They’re ghosts, but they resemble ideals more than they do a person most of the time. Practically gods. The ancients are Undergrowth, Frostbite, Nocturne, Pandora, Clockwork, Vortex, and Pariah Dark. Thing is… where most ghosts plateau at a certain power level the ancients can just keep growing in power. Clockwork is one of the strongest — so strong, the Observants bound him to their will.”

“Yeah, I heard about that, but he’s really nice, you know.” Danny smiled, “And he makes really good cookies really fast.”

Johnny stared at Danny for a long moment, “Danny. Do you not hear yourself right now? He’s basically the god of time.”

“Yeah, but if he didn’t want me to visit, I wouldn’t be able to find him.” Danny shrugged, “So he told me if I can see the clocktower, I’m welcome to come in.”

“Kid…”

“Besides. I’m friends with half of those guys and they’re cool.”

“Wha- How many ancients do you know?”

“Um… All the ones you just listed? I’m friends with Frostbite, Pandora, and Clockwork. I fought Undergrowth, Vortex and Nocturne before, but Nocturne likes me now. Um, Undergrowth doesn’t like me, though. Loves Sam, though… Um, obviously I know who Pariah Dark is after the whole thing in Amity-“

Johnny stilled, “Wait a minute… Kid. I need you to answer me honestly here… Did Pariah ever mention a challenge when you fought him?”

“Well, um. I guess? He was all formal speak, though, so…”

“Kid.” Johnny said very slowly, “Did he ever issue a challenge or accept a challenge from you?”

“… Um. He did say that he accepted my challenge or something, but wasn’t that just fight-talk or…”

“I think I get it now.” Johnny sighed, facepalming, “Just… maybe don’t tell people about this and consider asking one of the ancients allies you have about what Pariah accepting your challenge means for you.”

“For me? What-“

“Just… give it some thought.” Johnny paused, “And- Well, I can talk to Ember for you, yeah?”

“Thanks.”

—

Danny curled up on a sofa as Pandora embraced him with three arms and ran her fourth hand through his hair.

“Pandora.” Danny said softly, “Some of my friends say you, Frostbite, and Clockwork are ancients.”

“They are correct.”

“I didn’t know what ancients were.”

“I noticed.” Pandora laughed a bit, “But you’re a sweet child. You helped me get my box back and did not demand my favor. Perhaps it was selfish not to tell you, but I didn’t want to distress you. You are a kind and humble soul. Is it such a surprise I wish to continue seeing you?”

“You thought I would stop if I did?” Danny asked, confused, “I mean, sure my other friends were shaken up by it, but they don’t know you. Why would I be afraid when you’re so nice?”

Pandora blinked and then smiled warmly — a little laugh pulling from her throat. Oh, the innocence of such a young spirit, “Why, indeed? I suppose I didn’t give you or myself enough credit, did I?”

Danny shrugged, “I don’t have room to judge people for being different anyway. I’m a halfa. Pretty sure that’s even rarer than being an Ancient, right?”

“I suppose that is true.” Pandora smiled, “There are only a few halfas and none are quite like you. There will only ever be one of you.”

“Does this have something to do with why I never got to meet death?” Danny asked, confused, “That’s the only thing I can find that seems all that different-“

“In a way… Yes, but there are many more differences. The main one is that you powers have grown beyond Vlad Masters and they continue to do so.” Pandora said, “You are what we call a ‘Juna Potenco’. Most realms will never have heard of such things, but us ancients do not forget and when faced with a gift like yourself… well, you’ll only see more of us with time.”

“What does that mean? Is it bad?”

“No, no. It is a gift, not a punishment.” Pandora promised, “You are an inspiring soul, favored one, and it seems the realms themselves have seen that.”

“That doesn’t sound right.” Danny pulled away and sat up as he shook his head, “I’m a halfa, but that’s what I am. It doesn’t say anything about who I am. There isn’t anything special about who I am.”

“Everyone else disagrees with that last statement.” Pandora shook her head, “But I will let you in on the secret.”

“Yeah?”

“These are not due to your half spirit nature, but something truly special.” Pandora cupped his cheek, “Danny, do you truly wish to know? As amazing as this is, I am not sure you will be ready for the truth just yet.”

“I’m - I’ve been debating what colleges to apply for, but… I don’t know if any of them will take me now with my grades. I still look fourteen — fifteen at the oldest… and I still feel fourteen.” Danny looked at Pandora with pleading eyes, “So if this would impact my future, I think I’d like to know. Before things get complicated.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly, everything froze.

Danny looked up to see Clockwork putting a medallion on Pandora while Frostbite gave him a smile.

“I presume you’re here to assist in informing him?” Pandora asked.

“Indeed.” Frostbite nodded.

“Informing me of what?” Danny asked, confused.

“When you went to face Pariah Dark, you stated your intention to fight him.” Clockwork said, “And he accepted your challenge. You fought in single combat, removed the Crown of Fire from his head, and then managed to get him into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.”

“Vlad-“

“Plasmius might have locked the Sarcophagus, but you have repeatedly bested him and even when he has gotten the best of you, it has not been in single combat. However, Plasmius at one point claimed your fight was a ‘fun challenge’. You agreed — officially accepting it as such. When you defeated him, he lost any fragile claim to the throne.”

“Claim to the- Wait. What are you saying?” Danny glanced between them, “What? No. No… you have to be kidding me. I’m just me. I was trying to help, not-“

“Child, your soul was always going to be tied to the zone one way or another.” Pandora said, “Mortality is already a fragile thing, but someone so surrounded by ectoplasm at a young age all while experiencing the struggles you did with your parents absence… it was inevitable that you would be a powerful ghost.”

“But, then, Great One.” Frostbite continued, “You stood fully emerged in the space between worlds and thought of protection and forgiveness — mercy. You did not even consider vengeance or desires of your own. Only the wellbeing of others. It is an act of great sacrifice and not one many can complete so fully.”

“To put it simply, Danny.” Pandora said, “You’re one of us, Juna Protenco. New and young power that will grow infinitely. Though you are far from ancient, you will be with time.”

“An ancient to be.” Danny said distantly.

“The Ancient of Protection, Space, Mercy, and Matter.” Clockwork turned into his newborn form, “The best candidate for king we’ve had in a long time. Though, perhaps I am a bit biased.”

“Does it have something to do with space-time?” Danny guessed, “Because Matter, Time, and Space…”

“Correct.” Clockwork smirked, “Matter tells spacetime how to curve, and curved spacetime tells matter how to move. I guide you and you make changes that I will use to guide you again.”

Dannu blinked, “Oh. I get it.”

“You do?” Pandora blinked.

“That’s domains for you.” Frostbite chuckled and then quickly explained when Danny gave him a confused look, “We all innately understand our domains and their meanings. My domain is progression, society, and advancement.”

“Mine is responsibility, hope, protection, and perseverance.” Pandora revealed.

“Indeed.” Clockwork transformed into the middle aged man again, “But now that you know of your future, we must prepare.” He put his hand on Danny’s shoulder, “Your coronation must happen by the time you turn eighteen. As Ghost King, you will need to learn some diplomatic skills. We will teach you while you finish your human schooling.” Clockwork promised, “You can tell your parents the truth or you can say you are simply leaving for college, but Maddie and Jack Fenton cannot move to the Zone with you. Your sister is welcome. Your friends are welcome, but unfortunately…”

“I understand.” Danny lowered his head, “I don’t think I’ll tell them just yet. Maybe I’ll leave a note or a video, but…”

Clockwork’s eyes glazed over briefly — clearly checking the timeline.

“That is a good idea.” Clockwork nodded.

“Okay.” Danny swallowed, “I can’t -”

“No.” Clockwork said, “Honored as these two would be, they have their duties and people. They cannot. I am both bound by the Observants and a little too prone to acts of selfishness. It is too much power for me. No. It must be you.”

“You’re not selfish. You helped me.” Danny tilted his head, confused.

Clockwork chuckled guiltily as Pandora made a face and Frostbite shifted awkwardly.

“There is a reason people fear me, Danny.” Clockwork seemed more amused than anything by the sudden awkwardness, “I appreciate your trust in me, but I was not so good or kind in life. I hold domain over regret and retribution as well as time. It is a position I earned after giving and getting both in equal measure. I am not a protective spirit by nature. I am one that seeks justice and sometimes revenge.”

“I don’t get it.” Danny frowned, confused.

“Soon, you will.” Clockwork said grimly, “But for now… Trust me when I say all is as it should be.”

“Okay.” Danny said, “I trust you.”

“Now, time in.” Clockwork said. When Danny tried to give him the medallion he shook his head, “No, hold onto it. I believe it goes without saying, but do not lose it.”

“I know. I won’t.” Danny promised.

“Good, now… I believe you have some friends to talk to?”

“Er, right!” Danny said and rushed off.

“He doesn’t know who you are?” Frostbite turned to Clockwork, “And you haven’t told him?”

“… He’ll learn during his studies.” Clockwork admitted begrudgingly, “And it’s best that he come to me after he processes the information than during.”

“Just remember, Kronos.” Pandora glared as she handed over her medallion, “One wrong move-“

“Yes, yes, I am very aware of your opinions of me, Keeper of Hope.” Clockwork held a hand to Frostbite, “Shall I take you back to your people?”

“Er, yes.”

“Good, then-“

“Hey! I was not finished-“

“TIME OUT!”

Pandora sighed as they disappeared, “Ugh. He is always such a petty menace. One of these days…”

[llamagoddessofficial]

A lovely continuation commission from @valacre. You love your husband Nightmare as he is - but there's a lot more to him than what is now, isn't there?

---

The record player moved on to the next song. Your recognition of the song roused you, faintly, from your almost-sleep... a familiar, emotive, reflective piano piece. You didn’t open your eyes just yet; you could feel a small smile forming on your lips. 

He’s playing Debussy? He must be in a good mood.

You were holding Nightmare’s hand up against your face tonight, tucked up to your ears under the covers, cheek pressed stubbornly to the top of his palm. You spent many nights falling asleep this way. Nightmare didn’t need to sleep, it was a luxury he could indulge in if he felt inclined, but he often chose instead to bring his books and quills to bed with him (propped against his knees) and use the precious quiet hours to read and write. You would fall asleep tucked up to his side... most often with one of his hands commandeered by your own, as your just payment for not receiving your usual embrace from him.

You didn’t mind this arrangement. In fact, you quite enjoyed it. There was something about him being awake that made your sleep so deep, so restful - you felt so safe. He could watch over you, right? It was as if knowing he was awake for you made all your anxieties melt away. He would sometimes play music to fill the silence, and the tunes would lull you into comfortable and romantic dreams. 

You very minutely nuzzled his hand as the song drew to a close. After a few beats of silence, the record player skipped on. You didn’t recognise this one, but it was distinctly Debussy again... you couldn’t help but open your eyes. 

...

The hand you were holding was white.

You gasped, a loud and sharp breath - you snatched your hand away and sat bolt upright in bed. The blanket tumbled off you.

Again?!

Your vision focused. 

... Nightmare, despite the look of startlement and concern on his face, appeared completely normal. His bones were black, faintly iridescent and glistening as they always were; his eyelight’s cyan light was bright and comforting. Handsome as ever, too. 

“what is it?” he asked, gently, putting his quill down. “bad dream?”

... You didn’t know what to say. Let alone how to say it. After searching his face for anything unfamiliar, and finding nothing but the man you loved, you gradually lowered yourself back down into bed. You tried to breathe slowly, calming from the sudden bout of panic you’d caused yourself. Your heart was beating much too hard.

“I... Yes. I’m alright.” You definitely didn’t sound alright. You bought the covers back up over your shoulders.

His face shifted. His voice was soft, as was his gaze, you could tell he was being careful to keep his tone non-confrontational. 

He slowly closed his book. “no you aren’t.”

You shifted uncomfortably at the twinge in his tone. Nightmare, a man who could taste lies, obviously didn’t like being lied to. Even small ones.

“I’m sorry. I... don’t really know what’s wrong.”

You stared at some of the fine stitching around the edges of the pillow. You were struggling to get comfortable again, your whole body still tense. This wasn’t the first time your mind had supplied you with images of a skeleton you didn’t recognise. 

Lately, you’d been having the most intense, vivid, immensely strange dreams. You never fully recalled them when you awoke, but certain aspects would remain in your head like the afterimage of a powerful flash. Symbols of the moon, silver, flickers of purple. The warmth that comes from drinking herbal tea. Laughter, the smell of fire, a tree stump. 

... Then the skeleton himself, the subject of your confusion. Tall and elegant, clad in faded silks, with a kind smile but the aura of something that grown accustomed to unspeakable grief. Soft lilac eyelights that were deep and overflowing with power. You couldn’t remember his face; you could, however, remember that his expression was warm. A smile that made your chest ache. He would look at you as if he owed you a great debt; no matter how much you called out he wouldn’t come any closer. He would open his mouth, but there would be only silence, like he was behind a thick wall of water.

You would’ve ignored the dreams. Were they not so vivid - and so recurring. You felt as if something was quietly watching you. But what? And how could you possibly reply, if you couldn’t even remember what happened?

... You were broken out of the memory by Nightmare moving. His tentacles picked up his book, pen and ink, placing them on the bedside table; as he did, he shuffled to lay down beside you. He drew you against him. Perhaps he could tell that whatever was wrong, it needed more than words.

You gratefully accepted the embrace. Your cheek tucked against his collarbone, his arm and a tentacle looped over your middle. When his huge arms were around you, you felt so safe, you knew heads would roll before he allowed anything in the world to touch you.

“better?” he murmured.

You were choked up. You didn’t know why. “Mhm.”

“you know you can tell me anything.”

“Of course. I just need to find the words to tell you, first.”

“i’m sorry. i shouldn’t push. i’m one to talk about not telling the whole truth, hm?”

You couldn’t help but giggle. He clearly liked that... against his chest, you could hear his Soul faintly humming. Probably by instinct, a second tentacle tucked over you, this time curling around your legs.

The record player moved on to the next song. His claws were gently moving in your hair, wrapping a specific curl around his phalange and letting it go over and over again. He’d always been enamoured with how it looked when it was down; it was a sight he was only privy to in moments like these, with the covers pulled up over both of you and the dark of night filling the bedroom.

Your voice broke the comfortable silence once you recognised the song playing. You weren’t laughing at him, but you were laughing, just a little. “More Debussy? Someone’s feeling romantic.” 

He sounded like he was smiling. “indulge me,”

“I think it would be nice to learn how to play this one.” It felt good to talk about something else.

“it’s not as hard as you’d expect.”

...

You did look up at him this time, surprised, fabric rustling as you tilted your head up. “You play piano?”

“mhm.” His eye was wide and fuzzy, nigh filling up his entire socket, looking down at you with an immense softness. His hand moved to cup your face, massive palm to your cheek, claws curling around the back of your head. “it’s been a while. but i’m sure i could shake off the rust.”

“I didn’t know you knew how.”

“honestly, dear?” He hummed. “until this moment, i had forgotten i could.”

“You always struck me as more of a string player. Violin, perhaps. Or cello.”

“ah... violin, i never particularly fell in love with. but i am fond of the cello.” His voice was so satin-like, if you closed your eyes you could almost feel it caressing you. “i’ve picked up a fair few instruments, in my time. do you play?”

You rested your cheek back against his collarbone. Just how many instruments did he know? He was something of royalty, wasn’t he? Perhaps his childhood had involved a prince’s education. He would’ve seen a fair few beautiful and expensive instruments. His hand traced over your shoulder and down your spine, lovingly and almost reverently, settling to the small of your back. Despite all your time together, Nightmare still touched you like he couldn’t believe his luck.

“I floundered at piano as a child. My teacher always told me I was too airheaded to be any good.”

“she sounds unpleasant.”

“Mh... she wasn’t all wrong.” You thought back to the woman that had frightened you so much as a child. “I didn’t make her life very easy; I never practised, I was always busy playing gardener. She would scold me for coming to practise with dirt under my fingernails. Maybe if I’d concentrated, I would’ve been better.”

“well, it doesn’t matter now.” He turned his face slightly, and kissed the top of your head. “i didn’t marry you for your musical talent.”

“That may be true. But you didn’t marry me for great reasons at first, either.”

“my reasoning was questionable at the time, yes. i had no idea how to process what i was feeling.” His grin was audible once again. “but it would be a bald-faced lie to say i regret it. i’ll never regret making sure you were all mine.”

You rolled your eyes. “Aren’t you the romantic?”

He chuckled. You didn’t realise how much the short conversation had soothed you. Perhaps that was his plan. You were getting sleepier and sleepier, forgetting entirely what had startled you.

“I like these songs.” Your eyelids were drooping. “You have good taste in music.”

“music was... the only thing dream and i ever agreed on.”

... You stilled. Had... had he ever volunteered information about his brother before? Outside of when the spectre of the topic was already looming over both of you?

...

“... You should play me something, tomorrow.”

“anything for you.”

///---///

Nightmare waited until you were asleep to stop petting your hair. He only relaxed once the expression completely melted from your face. Instead, he just let his claws rest beside your head, his eyelight wandering over your features. Doing its best to memorise every curve.

He could never quite draw your smile right. The rest of you, he could create from memory, his claws knew the shape of your body well - your cheek and the arch of your brow, the little dip where your neck and shoulders met, the soft skin of your stomach and back... when he indulged himself in drawing you, those were the parts he could recreate with the effortlessness of total familiarity. The locked box in his study had more than its fair share of proof. 

But your smile? He just couldn’t get it. No matter how badly he wanted to. Perhaps it just wasn’t something that could be contained. Perhaps there was a lesson there, for him, in the thing he loved most being the one thing he couldn’t capture forever.

... Alas. He knew he would keep trying, anyway. He was nothing if not greedy. 

He kissed your knuckles. He would apologise again in the morning. It was unkind of him to pick you up on not telling the truth - especially when you were so incredibly patient with his endless lies by omission. 

He wasn’t telling you everything about his dreams, either.

He’d grown so comfortable around you that many nights, when you slept, his mind would unconsciously reach out and connect to yours - his Soul seemed to see you as an extension of himself, so it would naturally draw you closer. Usually that meant nothing more than moving far more easily into your dreams.

... But recently, something very strange had been happening. 

He would feel you in his mind.

It was the first time someone had ever entered his dream. It was much more pleasant than he imagined, though that was probably because it was you. So physically close to him, and so emotionally close, for you moving into his dream would be as easy as passing through a veil. He wouldn’t even notice you were there; not until he felt your presence in places and thoughts he hadn’t let himself access for years. 

Something within him was... well, he didn’t know. Moving, perhaps? Shifting. He didn't like it. Whatever it was, it made him stop to consider, for the first time in a long time, what he really... was.

He wasn’t his old self. He knew that for sure. He wasn’t Night, but he wasn’t purely Corruption either. Unlike what his brother constantly insisted, Nightmare wasn’t some poor innocent skeleton trapped by a cartoonishly evil Corruption - his lip curled at the thought. Dream’s blind belief was as insulting as it was patronising. Nightmare knew what he was doing, he was the master of his destiny. Nightmare was something new, something different. A combination that was stronger than either entity could’ve been alone. He was better.

... He touched your face again, absentmindedly. 

Both parts of him liked you. There was no question about that. The Corruption adored you, but it loved in an ancient and consuming way - it wanted you with them forever, a bird in a cage. The Corruption whispered longingly about how, if only they moved with more conviction, nobody but him would ever see or touch you again. Was he allured by that? Yes. But Night knew that love like consumption would eat you alive. It was the lingering presence of his old mind, the moderation and empathy of his old self, that gave Nightmare the tools to love you in a way that would make you happy. 

He sighed. Both parts of him loved you... that was the problem. The lines were blurring.

... He could feel himself changing. Something old, rising to the surface. It was troubling. When the Corruption first took over, Night all but became comatose, healing from the damage done to him. As promised, the Corruption protected him. And even once Night did recover, he had absolutely no desire to return to full control, not after what he’d been through. He was afraid... remaining deep inside, protected from a world he saw as universally cruel. Protected by a wall of viscous black darkness.

Then you came along. Walls that he had spent centuries building, crumbling down from just a glance. Were he not so hopelessly in love, he might’ve considered his own behaviour rather pathetic.

He wasn’t sure what to do about it just yet. He pressed his nasal cavity against your hair. He would think about it more in the morning. For now, he just wanted to do the thing he enjoyed most; holding you and forgetting absolutely everything. 

Sometimes, when he slept with you in his arms, he felt like there was nothing in the world to be afraid of.

///---///

Nothing felt off, when you woke up. You stretched your toes, hummed... with light peeking through the curtains, you decided to roll over and see if your husband was awake.

The skeleton facing you wasn’t Nightmare.

When you saw white bones again, the first thing you did was freeze. Your breathing stopped, you stared blankly - the skeleton asleep opposite you appeared startlingly like Dream. The same cheekbones, the same jaw, the same soft expression. But there were differences both minute and glaring. Dream’s face had a brightness and sharpness to it. This skeleton looked softer.

... And when blinking a few times didn’t make him go back to normal, you leapt out of bed.

His sockets opened. Purple.

Instantly, seemingly before he’d even realised you’d jumped away, he jolted, and a look of fear appeared on his face. He sat bolt upright in the bed, lifting up his hands to his face - the sight of his own bones made that look only worsen into one of outright panic, purple eyelights shrinking down into quivering dark pinpricks, deep lines of fear cutting between his brows and around his nasal cavity. He staggered out of bed...

... And over to the mirror. 

It took a split second for him to look upon his face. You could see him, reflected over his own shoulder back at you. You watched as he took only a split second to see his own terrified profile staring back at him. 

You had never seen so much fear strike face before. 

A flash within his sockets, like an amethyst turning in the light. He reared back and punched the mirror, shattering it, the force carrying through and visibly fracturing the wall beneath. You let out a tiny yelp as glittering shards showered the bedroom floor - you moved back mostly out of confusion, but also no small amount of fear, until your tailbone bumped Nightmare’s desk. Pieces of the mirror were still peeling off the frame and dropping to the stone tiles even as the stranger put his hands over his face, stumbling to the side until he hit the wall.

“no. no,” he slid slowly down it, surrounded by shards of mirror. “no, no, no, no...”

...

You could scarcely believe it. But you knew that voice. You knew those movements. As you stared across the room at the ‘stranger’, instincts kicked in. Despite your utter disbelief, the word left your lips anyway.

“N... Nightmare?”

He lifted his face from his hands, staring at you. You gasped, quietly; yes, there he was, it couldn’t be anyone else but him. No wonder you thought he resembled Dream, the layers of tar had vanished but everything you had kissed a hundred times before was still there. 

“val,” he breathed. The way he looked at you - confused, but pleading for help - you knew it was him. It couldn’t have been anyone else. 

You rushed back across the room, over to him, to his side. You didn’t care about the glass. It was so, so bizarre to see him with both sockets, your eyes darted back and forth, unsure of where to look. You knelt before him; he was back to staring with horror at his violently shaking hands.

“what’s happening to me?” His voice was different, too. It didn’t have its usual commanding weight and depth. It was still distinctly him, but it felt as if his voice had been halved somehow. Gentler, higher, closer to the surface. “why... no, no, i can’t be...”

“Shh, shh.” You didn’t know if he wanted to be touched or not, so your hands hovered around his shoulders. Now that you knew it was him, you weren’t frightened anymore. You did your best to keep your own voice calm. “You’re alright. Nightmare, you’re alright.”

The lilac of his eyelights was such a beautiful, gentle colour. Though it was soft, and clearly suited his features, you were so accustomed to comforting cyan that you were unsure of what to make of it. 

He was shaking all over. His voice cracked when he talked. “i don’t know what’s going on,”

“We don’t need to know what’s going on.” The more you gently spoke, the more he appeared to ease, his hands gradually coming away from his face. His eyelights, locked onto you, weren't quite so small. “We’re both fine. Take deep breaths, okay?”

You reached out, placing a hand on his cheekbone. It felt different. Smoother. But that was the extent of the differences, your hand still fit against his face like a puzzle piece.

He sucked in a sharp breath. For a moment you feared you had hurt him - were his bones sensitive like this? - you made to pull away. But Nightmare grabbed your hand with his, pressing it tight to his cheekbone. 

“i-i...” He wasn’t looking at you. He was looking into the middle distance, a lost expression on his new face. Through you.

“Night?”

“i-i never thought i’d be able to...” He sounded choked. “like this...”

... His sockets... filled up with tears. They were lilac too. Shimmering like gems as his eyelights reflected in them.

Instinctively, you placed your other hand on his other cheek. He gripped that one and held it to him just as tightly, his skull sandwiched between your palms. He took in a deep, shuddering breath...

... And then openly started to weep.

You were shocked. Completely shocked. His chest fluttered, the sound was small but deafening. How many times had Nightmare cried around you? Once, for certain, perhaps twice if you were generous and counted the time you suspected he cried but had not seen tears. And even when he did cry, he always hid his face like he was ashamed, tucking into your shoulder or turning away.

But here he was. Tears moving down his cheekbones. Shaking, right in front of you; clutching your hands and sobbing.

Well. You didn’t need to pause much longer. You leant in, using your hold on his face to press a kiss to his skull. He let go of your hands and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in, with you kneeling between his legs it was a slightly awkward posture but neither of you really had it in you to care. You just held him.

He smelled the same. Like home.

Not long passed, he had always been adept at self-control. By the time you were getting used to the sound of his soft cries, they were already fading, replaced with the deep slow breaths he took to regain himself. Though the sounds ebbed away, the tears continued to run down his face like the tide.

... You had absolutely no idea what was going on. But at least he was alright. You leaned back, using your thumb to wipe at his cheekbone. He leaned into your touch.

...

... Suddenly, he gasped. It made you jump. He looked down to the floor - “the mirror. your feet,”

Before you could do more than open your mouth, his arms moved around you, he stood; you were lifted clean off the floor. Even missing half his mass, he was still so strong. As easily as ever, he carried you to the bed, sitting you down and quickly kneeling - despite the tears still visibly staining his cheekbones he only had worry for you scrawled across his face. He took one of your feet in his hands, checking for cuts, for blood, for damage.

The care in his eyelights... you couldn’t believe it had taken you so long to recognise him.

... You had completely forgotten about the shards of glass on the floor. Now that you followed his gaze down, you could see little pinpricks of red, staining the white of the nightgown around your knees. “O-oh,” was all you managed to say.

He didn’t respond. He just obsessively checked you for injuries. His hands felt... more textured than usual? Like a once-smooth stone was now mottled and aged. He moved up to your knees, lifting the hem of the nightgown over them, looking with that telltale frown on his face. He couldn’t have looked more like his old self, with that grimace.

He exhaled, slowly. “... okay. you’re fine. by some miracle, your feet missed everything.”

“And my knees?”

“just some small cuts.” He carefully pulled the hem back down. “the nightgown must’ve stopped anything from embedding. they’ll heal fine.”

He let his hands linger on your legs, staring into empty space again the moment he seemed to slip. He still looked troubled. Troubled - but not panicking anymore.

...

“Nightmare.” You spoke eventually. “You know I don’t usually ask you personal questions.”

Despite his clearly fraught state, cheekbones stained by tears, a little laugh broke out of him when he looked back up at you. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit too.

“i-i know, i know. i think i have some explaining to do, don’t i?”

You reached out your arm - without a single word needing to be spoken, he took your hand and placed it against his cheekbone again. He sighed.

“You’re the skeleton I was dreaming about.”

“i never thought this would happen. i never thought i would be like this again.”

“Again?”

...

He (clearly somewhat reluctantly) let go of your hand, standing, slowly shuffling to sit beside you on the bed. He appeared unsteady on his feet. The light from the window was catching in the shards of mirror on the floor, casting tiny freckles of light across his face; he looked... remarkably handsome. He always did, of course, but especially so like this. You felt your chest get a little tight.

“it is how i used to look. this is how i used to be.”

You tilted your head. You took in everything, eyelights, teeth, mouth. You thought about what the Nightmare you knew looked like - the collapsed socket, the dripping smile, the tentacles. The viscous black fluid covering him from head to toe.

“That’s... quite the transformation,” you murmured. 

He nodded. “indeed. i used to be a different person. more like dream. but that person... entered a contract with another entity. the two of them combined, and became the person you know.”

“Hm.”

“perhaps symbiosis is a better term. nightmare was attacked by people who didn’t understand the role he played. they saw dream and nightmare, ‘good’ and ‘evil’, and placed blame on the latter for everything wrong with their lives.” He spoke about the event as if it had all occurred to someone else entirely. As if he thought nothing of it; as if he was fine. “nightmare gave his body, and the corruption gave its power. that was the deal that created me. a place to be powerful, and in return, the power to never be hurt again.”

“Corruption?” You were immediately concerned. "Nightmare,"

... He looked at you. His face was loving, he looked amused. It was nice to see a more positive emotion on him. “that’s just its name, dear.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very trustworthy name.”

“you’re married to a man called nightmare.”

“I,” ... you clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “Alright, touché.”

He chuckled. He sounded so much younger. Stars, it was strange to see him this way; like a loved one coming home after shaving off all their hair or losing a vast amount of weight. Though you logically knew it was him, and you could see him so clearly within all the mannerisms of the skeleton in front of you, there was something so jarring about expecting your Nightmare and seeing another’s face staring back at you.

“I think I understand somewhat. Are you... the ‘past’ version of you right now, then?”

“... i... no.” He shook his head. “i’m still me. i can still feel everything. but the corruption has... receded. it’s been at the front for so long. it’s never done this before. i don’t know what to do.”

“Do you think you’ll turn back again soon?”

...

His eyelights widened, ever so slightly. Faint wisps of violet coloured the high edges of his cheekbones.

“you don’t prefer this form?”

You flustered - how could you say something like that? Especially when he was clearly so upset by his transformation. He smashes a mirror in front of you, and you openly express you prefer his previous body to this one? “I-I don’t mean I don’t like you like this! Of course I do,” 

“darling,” he took your hand and squeezed it, cutting off your blabbering. “i like my other body more, too.”

“Y-you do?”

Smiles suited him far more. “mhm. i’m not as strong, this way. and the absence of my tentacles is noticeable. i keep wanting to hold more of you, but i simply don’t have the dexterity.”

“I just...” You exhaled, slowly, eyes trailing over his sockets and nasal ridge and jaw. “Honestly, I really miss your normal face.”

“... normal,” he hummed. It was a pleased hum.

“Well - it’s alright. Regardless of what body you’re in, you’re very handsome.”

His smile sharpened. All of a sudden, he looked like a preened bird. It was hard work not to roll your eyes; all that crying, all that vulnerability and fear, but it was clear from that grin that this was very much the same man that you had gone to bed with hours before. 

“hmm. so i’m handsome to you either way? i like this conversation very much.”

“Oh you would, wouldn’t you?”

“i think i understand now.”

The sudden softness of his voice caught you off guard. You leaned back a little, to gauge his expression. He was smiling at you so fondly now.

“the deal i made. nightmare... the corruption promised no one would ever hurt him again. i wonder if...”

“... If?”

“i wonder if, for the first time since making the deal... i fear nothing.”

... You couldn’t honestly imagine Nightmare fearing anything. You had yet to meet anyone who considered your husband an equal, let alone an inferior; even Dream, his own brother, had left at the first sign of fury. Entities who caused no small amount of strife, like Killer, begged you to assure them that Nightmare wouldn’t kill them. 

Then again. How much pain would someone have to go through, to become that vicious to the world around them?

You leant toward him. He immediately reciprocated the movement, touching his forehead against yours. He sighed.

“touching you, in this form... it’s...”

He trailed off. You didn’t make him finish. “You feel so different. So similar, too. It’s a little jarring.”

“i’m glad you prefer me as i am.”

“Of course I do. I married you.”

He snickered. “despite all the flaws?”

“Not despite.” It was your turn to comfortingly brush your thumb over the top of his palm. “Not despite, at all.” 

“... you truly prefer my ‘normal’ form?” he asked, “even though this one is so much... cleaner?”

“You’re the one who can taste lies. You tell me.”

He chuckled. His sockets closed.

“i want to stay like this. for a while.”

“As long as you need.” You closed your eyes, too. Now that the adrenaline of the situation had settled, you could feel your sleepiness catching up with you.

“... i love you.”

“I love you too.”

...

You felt the cyan-blue light on your eyelids long before you opened them.

[jasmineoolongtea]

hii!! i recently just started following you and i don’t wanna overload you with anything so i stress that i urge you to take your time and if you feel like you need to tweak anything then you can since i noticed you barely opened requests :)) i was just wondering if you could write something ( whether it be headcanons or a fic ) about gojo having a jujutsu sorcerer for a girlfriend / partner and his students don’t know so they’re all shocked when they just see this badass person next to gojo and he just casually introduces them as his partner lol. just a thought!! make sure to take care of yourself 💕

a/n: thank you smmmm for the kind words <333 yes omg i love this idea and honestly, i imagine gojo pretending to be chill on the outside but on the inside he's fangirling the same way his students are over his partner cause he's just so whipped and down bad for them jdjsndnsbd

"Shhhh! Quiet down, you two or you're gonna get us all caught." Nobara hisses through her teeth at Megumi and Yuji, trying her best to be quiet. It was quite a comical sight actually, the three students were all stacked on top of each other as they all attempted to crane their necks into the doorway as discretely as they possibly could.

"I still don't understand why we can't just ask like normal people." Megumi sighs, clearly exasperated at his friend's antics.

"You're such a buzzkill, Fushiguro." Nobara scolds him over her shoulder. It was like he didn't even understand the gravity of this situation.

This wasn't a situation where they could just waltz in and chat it up like regular unless they were intent on embarrassing themselves. This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to meet the current rising star of the jujutsu world: the newly minted special-grade sorcerer L/N Y/N who was famed for being highly elusive, never being in one place for too long to be tied down to somewhere.

Rumours and stories were constantly swirling about you ranging from the more serious ones about your incredible feats of jujutsu and how you managed to exorcise a grade 1 curse for one of your very first missions without breaking a single sweat to more silly ones like that you only wash your face with the purest spring water that was imported from the Swiss Alps and that allegedly you and Gojo Satoru were seeing each other. She thought the last one was particularly dumb as she was sure that a person of your calibre would have better taste than to date their man-child of a teacher, even if he was the strongest. Whatever it was, Nobara was not going to let those two ruin her chances of possibly being able to talk with you face to face.

Above her, Yuji groans out in pain as he feels an elbow jam into his stomach.

"Hey! That hurts!" Yuji complains loudly, his grip tightening around the wooden door frame.

"Can't you be in pain more quietly?" Nobara asks and with that, the two of them were sent into a bickering spat as they traded harsh whispers and snappy comments. However, this would prove to be their end as Megumi eventually loses his balance from all of the commotion above him and tumbles onto the floor with the other two following suit as they land in what can only be described as a failed human pretzel.

Unfortunately, their crash was not as quiet as Nobara was hoping for as one of the office's inhabitants stood up from his seat, seemingly made aware of their presence. "Oh? It seems like we have some eavesdroppers in our midst."

You hum to yourself, your back still facing the doorway as you turn to your white-haired companion. "Is that true?"

"Yes, I think I might know who they are as well. If only they would be so brave enough to reveal themselves." Gojo sighs dramatically, even bringing a hand to his chest as if to feign sympathy. You can't help but giggle softly at his behaviour.

The three of them take that as their cue to stand up, dusting themselves off as they slowly make their way into the office in a single file line. When Nobara sees you, she can't even let herself fully fangirl because the amount of embarrassment she has at getting caught trying to eavesdrop is far outweighing it right now.

Gojo makes his way towards his students as they stand lined up, his hands rubbing together and a devious grin on his face as he puts on his best menacing voice. "Now now now, what do we have here?"

"Satoru, take it easy on them. I'm sure they meant no harm by it." You place a hand on his shoulder as you stroll up to his side. His arms immediately fall to his side as he melts under your touch.

An adorable pout graces his features, his bottom lip jutted out in an attempt to put on his best puppy dog look as he whines at you, "Awww, but you're ruining my funnn. I don't get that many opportunities to do this."

"Sensei, they know you by your first name?" Yuji questions, his head tilted slightly to the side as he tries to figure out what relationship you two could possibly have.

A sly snicker is heard from Gojo as he quirks his eyebrows towards you. "They know me in a lot more ways than just that" he quips back, his tone bordering on being an outright innuendo.

You roll your eyes affectionately at him, clearly used to his playful nature by this point, and give him a light shove on the shoulder to which he pretends to exaggeratedly nurse in pain.

"Sorry for not introducing myself properly, my name is L/N Y/N and I'm a special-grade sorcerer here on a visit to Tokyo Jujustu High." You smile warmly at your boyfriend's students, your hands clasped in front of you as you greet them.

Nobara could feel her breath hitch in her throat as a million thoughts ran through her mind. Oh my god, you, her idol, were actually right in front of her and were acknowledging her. She swears she could die happy right this instance but that would mean that she wouldn't get to take full advantage of the chance to talk to you fully. With that, she snaps out of her star-struck daze and politely inquires, "If you don't mind me asking L/N-san, what are you here for?"

"Oh, they're here to visit yours truly, me!" Gojo chimes in, a megawatt grin on his face with a sense of pride radiating off of him as he motions to himself.

A tsk sound escapes Nobara, clearly distrustful of her teacher's statement. "Yeah right, they have way more important things to be doing than that."

"But it's true though! My lovely partner is here to pay a surprise visit to me!"

"There's no way that that's true. You and them?" As if to punctuate her point, she points at you and Gojo standing side by side and firmly shakes her head. "Nuh uh. They wouldn't date the likes of you."

A soft smack is heard as Gojo theatrically clutches his chest, stumbling back from where he stands to drape himself over you. "It wounds me to hear you say that Kugisaki." He claims, his expression twisted into one of faux pain. When he turns to face you, his demeanour suddenly switches as he leans in towards your ear, a roughish smile on his face with a faintly seductive lilt to his voice. "Maybe we should kiss to prove that it's true."

"Don't be crude, Satoru, they're your students and they're right in front of us." You try to brush him off of you in an attempt to spare his students from becoming witnesses to their teacher's love for PDA but he doesn't let go of his grip, instead choosing to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck as if trying to coax you to stay with him in his embrace. Like always, you relent to his touch with your fingers carding through his snowy locks, a soft sigh of approval leaving his lips.

There's a beat of silence as Nobara and Yuji try to process what they've just learned and the fact that they've just seen a visual confirmation of it before that peace is shattered and they erupt into a thousand questions. You field all of their burning questions ranging from ones about you to about your relationship with Gojo with grace, amused and endeared by their excitement and insatiable curiosity. Secretly, it warms your heart deeply that Gojo and his students are so comfortable with each other and that he can be himself around them without the pressure of the greater Jujutsu world on his back.

You turn to look at the clock and sigh at how fast time has gone by. "Alright, I'll see you at home Satoru and Megumi." You comment, packing up your belongings as you get ready to leave to attend to some business. Gojo leans down to your height as you place a lingering kiss against his cheek and wave him and his students goodbye.

Unblinking, Yuji and Nobara turn to each other and then to Megumi before they exclaim simultaneously. "You all live together!?"

Oh boy, Megumi knows he's going to be in for an earful with that.

[brainrot-of-a-thot]

o em geeee so ya know how umemiya is super protective of kotoha but like imagine how protective he would be of reader esp if they were dating :’))

BUT LIKE i wonder how he would react when reader was actually trying to defend/protect kotoha but ended up getting hurt in the process. how do you think he’ll react?

(im not really sure how requests work but if you don’t want to write something abt this it’s totally okay! taking the time to read my lil brain rot is more than enough for me!)

back off. [umemiya]

“I think you should back off.” umemiya said, tone even and smooth — he sounded closely like himself, but your spine tingled with a sense of danger; though it wasn’t directed at you, you’d never heard such anger saturate umemiya’s voice before, and it was downright scary. for a moment, you even felt a brief pang of sympathy for the pushy creep that you had just been wishing a painful death on seconds earlier.

a/n: okay yes nonnie i love this brainrot here!! like ume, i am protective of kotoha myself (she’s just so freaking precious and deserves the whole world) and also — protective ume gets me going 🫠

wc: 1.2k

c/w: fem!reader, creepy guy being creepy (pls don’t be like this fellas), language, protective!reader, protective!ume, brief violence towards reader (creep leaves a bruise around her wrist), soft!ume, established relationships, hurt/comfort and generously sprinkled fluff

“c’mon, sweetheart, just one date couldn’t hurt, yeah?”

your fingers tightened around the handle of the spoon, fingernails digging painfully into your slightly sweaty palm.

this creep had been flirting with kotoha non-stop since he entered pothos, and even when kotoha had made her disinterest blatantly clear, he still wouldn’t back off.

normally, you’d be jumping up to her defense; but kotoha was strong-willed and independent, and you knew from experience that she could stand for herself — so, you opted to merely keep an ear and an eye out on the situation, and to observe and gauge the way the man acted. should things take a turn for the worse, you’d be at her side in a split second.

you weren’t necessarily the best at fighting, but thanks the umemiya, you knew some basic self defense; and given the look of this guy, you had a strong feeling he hadn’t been in very many brawls. even someone like you could probably drop him.

“look, I’ve already told you I’m not interested. I’d appreciate it if you left my restaurant, sir.” kotoha seethed, and truly, you were impressed by just how even she kept her tone. if it were you, you’d be screaming colorful insults at the man and demanding he drag his ass down to hell where he belongs.

“one night with me, baby, and I promise you’ll be interested.” the man slurred, completely ignoring kotoha’s request for him to leave. alright, if he didn’t turn towards that door in point two seconds you were really going to lose it.

“I said no. now leave.” kotoha snapped, her tone raising above a professional level now. you slid your eyes over to observe your close friend; her body was trembling from anger and her face was turned into a scowl — and though you couldn’t see the man’s face clearly you could see the way his patience snapped from the sudden hard line of his shoulders.

your body was moving before your brain could catch up — you were out of your seat and at the creep’s side just in time to catch his wrist as he lifted his hand to reach out to kotoha.

“don’t even think about it.” you growled, fingernails digging into the bare flesh of his arm. the man whipped his head to the side to pin you down with a venomous glare.

“and who the hell are you?” he spat, but then his eyes traveled down your body and his lips pulled into a downright lecherous smirk.

“ooh, my bad; hello there, sweetie. and just where were you hiding?” he cooed, and you couldn’t help but mentally compare his voice to a hissing snake. you had to shove away the urge to wrench away in disgust.

“she’s not interested. you need to leave.” you ground out, and the man simply smirked — it was irksome and annoying, and you truly wanted to just punch it off of his face.

“but I quite like it here,” the man wisped, tugging his arm out of your grip. “there’s two feisty women right in front of me; how can a guy willingly leave that?”

“a guy can when he knows he’s not wanted.” you hissed, glaring icy daggers into his face. “you need to leave. before I lose my patience.”

the man’s eyes widened briefly before his face split open in a bout of loud, raucous, ear-grating laughter. your irritation was only building the longer you stood in this man’s presence.

“oh, whew, wow, holy shit — I needed that laugh sweetheart; seriously, you think I would be scared of you—”

the man’s sentence was cut off by a gruff yell as you hooked your foot behind his ankle and shoved him — he consequently stumbled and would have hit the floor, if it weren’t for his hand shooting out to grab a hold of your wrist on the way down.

pain lanced through your hand and wrist as his full weight threatened to pull you down with him; it was a miracle you’d managed to stay upright, but your wrist was definitely feeling the strain of it.

“let me go, shitdick!” you exclaimed, attempting to pull your wrist free — you could hear kotoha scrambling behind the counter, the metallic slide of a drawer opening and a shrill ‘shhhhink’ sound, but you were too focused on the man in front of you to bother looking in her direction. he was quickly rising to his feet, and he looked absolutely pissed.

“you’re really trying to start shit with me, you stupid bitch? what, you think because you’re a woman I won’t lay you out flat?!”

your heart thundered in your chest as his fingers tightened around your wrist — there was a cold feeling seeping into your muscles, a sensation that kickstarted something primal within your brain; fear. that fear took deeper root when the man found his balance, towering over you like some looming shadow. you flinched away as the man’s other hand flew into the air, no doubt wrenching back in preparation to land a blow — seconds passed, but the blow never came, and when you popped open an eye you noticed that your earlier prediction had proved true; the man’s hand was indeed loaded with a punch.

but it had been stopped by another hand, one that gripped his wrist tightly. your heart fluttered and your stomach swooped with relief. you’d recognize that hand anywhere.

“I think it would be wise for you to back off now.”

umemiya’s tone was even, smooth, and not much different than all the other times you’d heard it — but a cold shiver still crept up your spine; it wasn’t aimed at you, but the anger that saturated umemiya’s voice was palpable, the vibrations of which were intense enough to create an atmosphere of pure danger. it was genuinely scary.

you felt the smallest, briefest, most minute pang of sympathy for the man in front of you. had you been on the receiving end of that aura, you would have already pissed yourself — and judging by the look on the man’s face, he was able to detect that aura easily, and was probably about to empty his pathetic bladder right there.

in scattered, rushed, and stumbling movements the man wrenched himself free from umemiya’s grip and turned heel, shoving roughly past umemiya’s shoulder with a muttered “fuck y’all!”

silence followed the bell-tinkle of the man’s departure, but in only a few seconds time you were suddenly gathered into strong, warm arms. the scent of sunny detergent and faint cool aftershave invaded your nose as umemiya pressed you against his chest.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I should have gotten here sooner.”

gone was the previous anger in his voice, now replaced by a thick shroud of sincere regret and the faintest wisp of shame. you wrapped your arms around umemiya’s ribs and nuzzled further into his chest, drawing in lungfuls of that comforting scent. safety.

“it’s okay,” you mumbled, words muffled into umemiya’s broad chest. fingers combed comfortingly through your hair, the feeling turning your muscles into a jelly-like consistency in an embarrassingly short time. “you’re here now.”

umemiya hummed but it sounded rather distant, as if he was distracted by something else — you wondered briefly if you’d have to smother the guilt out of him (as you had done on multiple different occasions, for even things that were innocuous that he somehow felt he should take the blame for), but that worry had quickly melted when umemiya asked, with a slightly shaky voice,

“kotoha… you’re gonna put that knife down now, right?”

[leydenkilgore]

about balancing shifting and your original reality as someone that spends most of their time in their dr

I’ve spent much more time there than I ever have here. So I just feel like I belong there and it’s not really about one specific place or life. I keep coming back here not because I even want to but because it’s just familiar. I don’t use a safe word or anything, and I scripted I forgot I even shifted there to be more authentic. Because I personally always would feel like I was playing a role. Something in the back of my mind tells me I need to go back and I just go back. You can’t get stuck there or need a safe word. Just think you want to go back and you’re back. I think once you outlive your original life by a couple times you start to become naturally less detached to things in your original reality. At least that’s how it was for me. I just feel like there’s not much else I want from this experience. Shifting becomes so much easier the more you succeed and do it. The more apathetic about it, the less your life depends on it. I think for some people that they become too obsessed and reliant on it as an imaginary coping mechanism. There’s nothing wrong with use shifting as a coping mechanism or escapism is that subconsciously you just like the feeling the idea shifting gives you. Not what actively shifting will do for you. And you’re just seeking comfort in the dream of it. It that makes since. And the way to get out of that is to think of it as your life not an imaginary dream world. People that haven’t shifted for more than a few days don’t understand that it’s not just another daydream you fleshed out. It’s your life. Your desired reality will be your life. You’ll wake up there every morning, go to bed there, and experience everything. It’s a universe that has its own physics, its own laws and its real. And there’s differences in each reality people shift to because they want different things and characters there might not behave the same as they do in others.

You shouldn’t have an unhealthy attachment to it where you’re basically an addict. But there’s nothing wrong with treating it like a well loved hobby or favorite comfort. As long as you decided whether you want to live another life or escape to a daydream. Once you decide which one. Just shift. If you want a method find a method decide you shift that way each time or just pick a daydream to comfort yourself with it. That’s it nothing else. About living multiple lives. Sometimes they do run together here but I manifested a pretty low effort life for myself. So I have time to do what I want to do with everything taken care of. I don’t have a lot of people in my life that really take out too much energy so I’m lost in my memories most of the time. For some people that’s a big problem. If that’s a problem for you don’t shift as I often I do. I miss being there but for some reason I don’t want to leave there yet. Even though there’s nothing I want here anymore. I don’t mean that in a depressed way. Literally I just can’t imagine myself even remaining the rest of this year here. And I feel like I’m almost ready to leave here permanently but I don’t know yet.

I can still watch media and things from places I shift to because I’m amused by their behavior, it makes me feel like home I’ve never shifted to the canon world of Attack on Titan. Because I just think it’d be unpleasant. First of all Titans in my drs smell. You can smell them before you see them type of thing. Here’s a rant about something I never get a chance to talk about. Also the Yeager brothers lack in hygiene for some reason. I blame there father. Literally it’s atrocious. They were both clean as like teenagers and looked normal. Eren has very beautiful hair even when it was short. Grischa has very nice hair too. But they both are musty looking. They don’t look clean ever. It’s the strangest thing. And then there’s Zeke. See he can look clean. Eren and Grischa can’t. They just have a musty look about them. Zeke lacks in hygiene by choice. First of all he’s hairy everywhere which makes him scratchy. And he doesn’t know physical boundaries either. I think he knows if actually, I just don’t think it cares. And it’s so weird because in my dr, Grischa only divorced Dina. And she smells like expensive lotion but looks really clean and healthy. I just don’t know. And they’re both very good looking so I think they both get so much attention from the looks that they don��t care anymore. Which frustrates me to no end…But…That’s at least how they are in my drs.

I just finished the end of Ergo Proxy. And I’m so confused but I know when I shift there I’m going to eat so bad. And I’ve been seeing vulture circling around my home which I intended to him when I was close to respawning. But at the same time like what are you trying to tell me. Go shift and thanks for 500 followers!

[keis-slut]

promise|k.tsukishima

CW: FINGERING, SLIGHT DEGRADING

Reader POV

‘let me be your boyfriend!’ he said, his immature voice echoing in my head.

“we’re still kids, tsukki, we can’t date!”

i respond back, my little kid brain not correctly processing how to even date.

that was an adult thing, right?

“then, i promise, when we’re older…-“

i remember the look in his eyes so perfectly, the innocent but promising stare he held on my younger form.

“-i’ll be your boyfriend”

still, even now, my stomach turns when i’m around him.

he’s probably forgotten what he said to me that night,

but i never did.

i never could, not when i started to look at him differently.

i couldnt bring myself to remind him of it either, what if he was dismissive? or he laughed, and said it was just a game, an irrelevant thing he had just said as a kid? what if he rejected me?

what if the promise meant nothing?

what if he forgot?

maybe i was so afraid of it meaning nothing, because deep down i already knew it did.

it hurt even more, because i’ve thought about distancing myself to possibly control the feelings a bit better, but i could never bring myself to be away from him.

especially when he was so cold to others, yet his demeanor was so much softer around me.

but still, he’s changed into a very different person compared to when we were younger.

he use to be so bubbly, energetic and optimistic, and now,

distant and quiet, careful. too careful.

i haven’t changed, i’m still the same, he would tell me.

to this day, still don’t really know if he meant that in a good or bad way, but maybe that was just anxiety.

my eyes faltered from his wall, to focus on him waving at me from his desk, white headphones sloppily sitting around his neck.

i blink and reach up to remove my headphones.

“hm?” i raise a brow

“been trying to get your attention for like, eight years”

you and me both, my head echoes.

i laugh and pause my music, shifting on his bed.

“sorry, lost in thought”

i respond nonchalantly, and i watch him remove his headphones from around his neck, placing them on his desk.

he sighs and turns off his desk lamp, then see him stand from his chair.

“are you done for tonight? do you want me to leave?”

he drags his feet over to the bed next to me, and sits down, removing his glasses and rubbing his face tiredly.

i move my body to face him, legs crossed as my knee high socks started to roll down messily.

my whole being felt a mess right now, my overthinking mind, my hair was crazed from how i wore my headphones, i was wearing one of his sweaters, very baggy on me because of how tall he was compared to my height.

“no”

he said, once he was done fixing his glasses, running hands through his messy and overgrown blonde hair.

i felt my chest thump a little harder, my breath hitching suddenly.

“you need rest, i can’t just linger”

he sighs and looks up at me.

“yea you can, you do it anyway”

he throws me a mischievous smirk, and my eyes widen.

“shut up, you’re the one that asked me to come over to keep you company while you studied!”

he raised a hand and poked at my forehead, hard enough to send me back on his bed slightly, having me catch myself with my arm.

“you shut up, you’ll wake my mother raising your voice like that”

i scoffed playfully and pushed myself back up, shoving his shoulder for pushing me first.

“whatever, dickhead. why do you need my company anyway?”

i ask, crossing my arms as i face him, his legs still dangling off his bed as he slouched.

his head turned to me as he cocked an eyebrow.

“why do you need mine? same reason”

i cocked an eyedbrow right back at him, laughing slightly.

“i doubt it’s the same reason as me”

he turns his body on the bed, now fully facing me.

“why? what’s your reason for wanting me around?”

my face warms up slightly, and i avert my gaze.

“i just do. we’ve always been together anyway, it’s just normal”

he laughs,

“right”

i face him angrily and place my hands on his bed, leaning in his face.

“what do you mean ‘right’?!”

“stop yelling, y/n, jeez…”

my face flushes embarrassingly, and i lean back again.

“does this have something to do with why you were having a staring contest with my wall?”

i think for a moment, wondering if i should bring it up.

i was worried, terrified even, that he wouldn’t remember.

or he would, and just laugh it off like a joke.

but doing nothing would also bother me.

at least if we talked about it, having some kind of answer was better than none.

“shortcake, oi-”

“-do you remember what you said that night, when we were kids?”

i cut him off, and he was taken aback slightly as he raised a brow.

“which time? we were kids, we always said stupid shit”

my heart already hurt just a bit as he said that, and i sigh, feeling defeated.

but i still continued.

“the promise, tsukki”

i build enough courage to look up at his golden eyes, staring at me as if he recalled.

or, already knew what i was talking about the whole time.

but he didn’t respond, so i sighed heavily, and went to get up from his bed, ready to gather my things and go.

but he grabbed my fingers to stop me from moving.

“and where are you going?”

i turned back to face him as my heart leaped from my chest, butterflies chaotic in my stomach when he touched me so suddenly.

“home”

i respond blankly, but i didn’t move, i didn’t pull my hand from his.

“do you remember what you said back to me?”

he asked, and i slightly turn my body back to face him, as i stood by his bed.

“what?”

he rolled his eyes playfully, teasing me for not keeping up.

“when i promised”

my body pulsed when he said it himself, hearing it in his voice, past his lips, the promise.

i carefully sat back down on the bed next to him, keeping his gaze on mine.

i knew my face was so flushed, it was embarrassing.

i didn’t remember what i said, i only remembered what he said to me,

and i wanted to know what came next.

he leaned forward, so out of character for him, but i didn’t oppose.

in fact, i leaned with him.

“maybe this’ll help-”

he started to say, as he turned his head and placed a kiss on my cheek.

“-you remember”

he places another one, a little bit harder as my hand found its way to the back of his head.

i felt him get carried away, as he kissed lower, down my jaw, under my chin.

my body pulled itself closer to his as he leaned into me, slender arm snaking around my waist to my lower back.

“you kissed-”

he gave me another kiss down my neck, peppering them all over as if he couldn’t get enough.

“-my cheek-”

he sighed heavily as he tried to catch his breath, feeling him hot against my neck, voice loud in my ear.

his other hand looped around my waist too, so he was now holding me, pulling me closer.

“-and said-”

it all came back to me as he kissed my cheek again, dangerously close to my lips.

i sighed, moaning slightly as he gripped onto my hips tighter.

“-i’ll wait for you”

we both said, almost in unison as his golden orbs caught mine.

our noses touched as we just stayed there, anticipating a kiss, my body tingling at his touch, the closeness,

this was happening.

i lean forward a bit, just barely grazing his lips as he wouldn’t allow me to kiss him first.

“i don’t know how much longer i can wait, tsukki”

i whine against his lips, and he smirks.

“don’t have to”

he moves forward, parting his lips as he hungrily catches mine.

i jump onto him, immediately opening my mouth to kiss back.

i straddled his lap as his hands did what they wanted, up and down my back, just barely respecting the boundary on my lower back to my ass.

i immediately lift myself, telling him it was okay, practically placing myself in his larger hands as he felt me.

my hands pulled at his hair a bit, my body pressed against his torso as i was much smaller than him.

the kiss was hot, so heavy and filled with tongue, a little biting here and there, or now, where he had my tongue trapped between his lips.

my mouth hung open as he sucked and kissed as much of me as he could, his hands holding onto the bottom of my thighs.

i whimpered and cried into his mouth, doing my best to ask for more.

and he responded, his fingers grazing so horrifyingly close to between my legs.

i broke our messy kiss for a second, shifting my body so i was now adjusting myself atop his hand.

“you’re right, i’m not waiting anymore”

i say, incredibly out of breath as i leaned my forehead on his.

one of his hands gripped my ass, pulling my cheek apart so it was easier to move my shorts to the side.

i lifted myself on my knees, and back down to have him feel the mess he created.

“thought you wanted to be my girlfriend, not a needy slut for my fingers”

i collapsed against him as i felt a finger slip in, immediately tightening.

he kissed against my neck again, nipping at my skin when i felt another finger.

he curls them, and i moan into his shoulder, rolling my hips, bringing my body up and down, anything i could to feel him,

i was desperate.

“that comes with me being your girlfriend”

i was doing all the work, until he leaned forward, slamming my back onto his bed.

the impact had his fingers pushed deeper, and my legs shook as i cried.

his body pushed one of my legs up, hanging over his shoulder as his fingers sunk into my cunt.

“oh, so you’re my girlfriend now?”

he teased, enjoying the look on my face as his fingers fucked me senseless.

through wild whimpers and moans, i chuckle.

“yes, i am”

he smirks, slowing his hand down and pulling out slightly.

he pauses, leaving my hips to twitch with need.

he pushes them back in, curling them deeply and flicking them just to force me to come undone.

“good”

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three

Dustin looks squirrely, which is as weird as it is nerve wracking for Steve. When Dustin looks squirrely it’s usually shit like he’s keeping a baby fucking demo dog as a pet.

Which Steve just...doesn’t want to deal with it any more. He’s had enough. He needs Dustin to have normal kid shit problems, not apocalyptic ones.

So Steve is, silently, praying to whoever will listen that Dustin wants, like, the sex talk or something, and not that there’s an inter-dimensional creature with a taste for nougat in Hawkins.

“Eddie says he’s okay.”

Which, Steve just kind of shrugs, because it’s the same message Dustin’s been bringing back for months. Nancy and Robin have stopped to listen too. John and Argyle have gone on a snack run and the rest of the kids are outside; so this feels kind of worryingly tactical on Dustin’s part that he’s telling a very select group this information.

“I’m pretty sure he isn’t, though.”

“Okkkayyyy...tell us what’s going on,” Robin leans against the counter, and Steve is so glad Dustin chose to do this with the girls here.

“Well,” and Dustin looks squirrely again and Steve figures he...he thinks he must be betraying Eddie, or something, “I thought he was, at first, you know? He was planning campaigns and writing music and just seemed to be...you know. Normal.”

“But…”

“Well he...the last few times I’ve been there he...he hasn’t gotten out of bed and,” Dustin wrinkles his nose, ready for the big betrayal, “there’s always a lot of empty like, beer cans and stuff and...he smells kind of. Bad.”

The girls looks at each other before Nancy finally says, “we will go and see him, don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

Steve watches as Dustin relaxes, and realizes for the first time that this was, probably, way over Dustin’s pay grade, emotionally speaking. They are the adults, and dealing with someone who...well, it’s got to be depression, right? Eddie was never okay, he was faking to start with. Even Steve can figure that out from what Dustin’s just said. Just because they’ve dealt with alternate dimensions and world ending monsters, it doesn’t mean that Dustin is equipped to deal with shit like this – yeah, definitely heavy stuff for a kid. And Eddie, would Eddie have been able to fake it if say the girls, or Steve, had gone over? Would they have noticed a problem that Dustin just, didn’t? Because for all they’ve been through, they’re still just kids. Dustin might not have noticed that Eddie was dragging himself out of bed and cleaning up just for the one or two hours a week that Dustin was stopping by.

But Robin would have...and Nancy definitely would have.

And now Eddie doesn’t have the energy to just...fake it any more, simple as.

This is heavy shit, too heavy for Dustin to have to deal with.

And that’s how Steve ends up ferrying the girls to the brand new Munson trailer, right at the other end of the park from where the old one was. Nancy’s in full investigative reporter mode, Steve can sense it. Luckily, Robin goes first, " we shouldn't have left him this long."

Nancy hums in agreement.

The doors not locked and no one answers, so they all end up spilling unceremoniously into the bedroom.

Dustin was being kind; it reeks of stale cigarettes and sweat. He was being nice about the beer cans too; it’s not just beer cans, worryingly there’s also empty vodka bottles and even a couple of wine bottles in the mix.

This is not something that has happened recently; this has been going on for months.

The place is a mess. Like a can’t even see the floor kind of mess.

In the middle of his visibly dirty bedding, Eddie snores on, oblivious.

“Steve, you get him in the shower, Robin and I will clean this up.”

Steve’s dubious, but he shakes Eddie’s shoulder gently. Nothing.

He tries again, firmer this time, and Eddie comes awake with an undignified snort and hands flapping at Steve’s, trying to get the movement to stop.

Steve can hear the girls rummaging out in the kitchen, looking for trash bags and rubber gloves, maybe a box for the bottles.

Maybe two boxes.

Steve shakes him again, “Eddie come on.”

Eddie does blink up at him then, clearly groggy and confused, but he smiles. Smiles so big and happy, he grasps one of Steve’s hands now, rather than trying to push it away, still smiling, he pulls it up to his mouth and kisses Steve’s knuckles softly.

Steve doesn’t know what his face is doing, but Eddie’s frowning, something like realization dawns on Eddie’s face, and then throwing Steve’s hand away like it’s burning him. Eddie moves quick, scrambling to the edge of the bed and leaning over it, and Steve realizes what’s about to happen a second too late; Eddie starts to throw up just as Steve moves, so his sneakers do get splattered a little bit.

Which...Steve’s probably trudged through worse, realistically speaking. There’s not really anything Steve can do about it now, so he gingerly sidesteps the splatter of vomit and, briefly, feels really sorry for the girls, “come on Munson, up.”

Eddie grumbles nonsensically, but does allow Steve to heave him up, his head lolling, still clearly very drunk. Eddie doesn’t put up much of a fight when Steve strips him; made easy by the fact that he’s wearing a stained tee shirt and dirty boxers that Steve abandons in a smelly pile on the bathroom floor.

He’s too thin; far too thin. Barely any weight at all on Steve’s arm, ribs all knobbly and skin stretched strangely over his joints.

Eddie slides to the floor under the warm water and Steve, not wanting to get any damper, makes no effort to stop him. At least sitting on the floor he’s safe; he can’t fall any further. Steve vaguely recalls something about little kids being able to drown in an inch of water, and keeps half an eye on Eddie as he digs around for toiletries.

He finds a sad bar of soap and shudders, but it’ll do. Steve gives Eddie the most perfunctory scrub down ever, doing his best not to look at or be aware of any part of Eddie’s body as he flicks the cloth over it.

The towel that’s hanging up looks dubious, but better than nothing.

Eddie’s showing no sign of rousing; Steve has no idea if he’s just...really really drunk still, or if he’s hiding. Steve’s brain prods at what he saw; Eddie’s reaction to him.

There’s one logical conclusion that he’s trying his best to avoid. Unfortunately, no matter how he angles it...his conclusion remains the same. There’s one obvious answer. Eddie looks like a sad drowned rat under the water, and Steve shuts it off, covering him with the one sad towel.

Eddie shivers without the heat of the water, and Steve tries not to feel guilty. This isn’t his fault. He’s not...if Eddie had a Steve, he’s not him. He didn’t, die, or anything. It’s a bit of a headfuck, and thankfully Robin interrupts by shoving the door open far enough to press through a bundle of clothes; black sleep pants and a hoodie, but better than nothing, “there’s no clean clothes, it’s the best we could find,” she whispers.

Which, okay, they’re kind of musty, but at least not obviously dirty.

Eddie huffs through Steve pulling his clothes on, standing awkwardly as Steve pulls his pants up like you would with a little kid.

Steve dumps him on the couch; immediately feeling bad about the whole thing. Guilt, maybe, but he pushes that away harshly because this isn’t Steve’s fault. It’s no one’s fault.

Well, except for the labs and then One. But there’s no one here to blame and it’s...ridiculous that Steve would feel bad about it.

This isn’t the time. Eddie’s passed out again, so Steve gets a glass of water from the kitchen, leaving it on the table where Eddie will find it, before he goes to help the girls.

“We absolutely cannot leave him here.”

“No, agreed, being alone is not good for him.”

“He’s not alone,” Steve protests, “Wayne’s here.”

“And Wayne works twelve hour nights six days a week and has done nothing about this so far,” Nancy replies, brooking no argument, “we’ll take him to yours, he needs to dry out.”

“Mine?” Steve squeaks, “look, uhm, maybe not mine-”

“Why not yours?” Robin cuts him off, “you have the space, and no one else around. I can come and stay, help you keep an eye on him.”

And although all of that is true, Steve doesn’t know how to tell them what he’s just figured out, and having Eddie in his house feels...awkward as fuck.

Eddie’s like a zombie out of one of his games. He has to be encouraged out of bed, Robin putting herself to the task, and that takes a good hour on the really bad days. He picks at toast. He picks at eggs. He picks at whatever's put in front of him.

He doesn’t fight it when they take the spirits away, he doesn’t fight it when he’s allocated three beers a day; he never looks for more. He doesn’t fight anything. He’s broken. So broken Steve has no idea what to do about it. The kids come and go, maintaining conversation around Eddie that Eddie will vaguely engage with whenever one of the kids addresses him directly.

Otherwise he sits there, inert. The kids talk about school and their nerd games and all that normal stuff, and then they leave again.

Sometimes it’s just Eddie and Steve in the house, and that's enough to make Steve want to throw himself into the lake; Eddie’s presence is uncomfortable, and Steve immediately feels guilt every time he feels like that.

Eddie saved their lives. Eddie fought off actual mind control and took out One like it was nothing. Eddie saved the world, at great fucking sacrifice to himself, and Steve feels like a total dipshit every time he has to remind himself of it.

He has to do something for Eddie. He has to try and get through to him somehow.

He has an idea, and when he tells Robin he’s going out for a bit, she doesn’t question it.

Steve delivers Wayne an update when he picks up Eddie’s records. Wayne seems like a good guy, even though he’s completely out of his depth with Eddie, he seems to be able to roll with the punches. He believes the kids want what’s best for Eddie, and that seems to be enough for him for now.

Eddie’s lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, seeing nothing.

Steve picks one of his records at random, ‘Holy Diver. Dio,’ and puts it on the record player on low. He has Eddie’s guitar too, his notebooks, the rule books from his dumb game. Steve brings it all in in bits and pieces and leaves it on the coffee table. He leans Eddie’s guitar against the end of the couch.

By the time he’s finished, Eddie seems more alert; is actually watching Steve. Steve gives him a nod, and leaves him to it.

It changes something. Something undefinable. Eddie seems to be...making an effort. Robin says she thinks he’s coming around; remembering how to be a person. She thinks he’s making a good first step. He still drinks three beers a day, but they’re pretty much the weakest ones available and Steve thinks he’s doing it more out of habit than anything. There’s no other alcohol in the house.

What Steve thinks he knows has been gnawing at him too. Bothering his insides. He understands the girls logic; this is probably the best place for Eddie to be, but given what Steve thinks he’s figured out, this might also be the absolute worst place for Eddie to be.

He feels like he’s haunting him; the dead love of Eddie’s life, following him around every single day. Steve can’t even imagine what that’s like; Eddie even just having to look at him must hurt. Other questions always follow, like, why Steve? Was it random? Eddie must be gay, right?

Was Steve just the easiest one for Eddie’s brain to summon up in the moment? Or was there something else there, feelings that were easy to manipulate? Was there a reason it was Steve, or not?

He could spend hours chasing the thoughts if he let himself. Instead he makes himself and Eddie something to eat, a couple of sandwiches, and then takes them through. He sits, eating his own, and watching as Eddie nibbles on his. Things have moved; even as Steve watches, Eddie puts down the sandwich and scribbles in his notebook.

Steve’s just getting up to leave when he stops at the sound of Eddie clearing his throat, he still won’t look at Steve when he speaks, “thanks, uhm, for getting my stuff.”

It’s been a while since Eddie has spoken to Steve directly, and Steve hesitates a second, feeling like this is his chance to try and...he doesn’t know. Say something meaningful. Fix Eddie, somehow, say the exact right thing to make it better, eventually he just says, “no problem, man.”

Eddie nods, Steve waits in case there's more, but there doesn’t seem to be. He makes it to the kitchen door before Eddie speaks again, “you guys, you’ve probably saved my life.”

He is looking up as Steve now, chewing on the end of his pencil nervously, “you saved ours first,” Steve tells him.

Eddie huffs out the smallest, driest laugh, “didn’t realize it was a competition, Harrington.”

Steve leaves him to it, it’s not much, but it’s a start.

“You had a kid, right? Tell me about them?” It’s a push Steve knows. Their brief conversations turning into the occasional ten minutes on the deck when they both go out for a cigarette might have become regular, but they’re by no means secure. Steve might be about to bring the whole fragile thing down, but he needs to know. It’s eating him alive.

Eddie just shakes his head, ‘no.’ and sips at the beer he has. A beer Steve is pretty sure Eddie should not have, even if it is only a psychological thing, at this point, but Robin continues to be adamant that Eddie going completely cold turkey would be a really bad idea, so Eddie continues to have an allowance.

‘Well, fuck it,’ Steve thinks, ‘might as well try it,’ “come on, they were ours, right?”

Eddie snorts, “she was always more like you than-” he stops, cutting himself off. But it’s all the confirmation Steve needs.

Eddie looks at him then, horrified, before scrambling up.

“Eddie, stop, it’s okay-” Steve tries.

“Fuck you Harrington,” Eddie growls at him with more emotion than Steve's seen in Eddie since the whole thing happened, and then throws the beer bottle, not at Steve, exactly, but close enough that broken glass scatters around his shoe, beer smattering the patio slabs and the smell of it rising to fill Steve’s nose almost immediately.

Eddie stomps into the house, and Steve can hear Robin asking what happened, clearly concerned; she must have heard the bottle smash, “I cannot stay here with him,” Eddie spits, before the moment passes.

Robin comes out a moment later, “Nancy’s with him, what the fuck just happened?”

Steve’s a little stunned by the confirmation and then the close run in with the beer bottle, but regardless he wouldn’t hide this from Robin, “it was me, Robs. The...Eddie’s wife? I guess, not a wife, me.”

@autumncrocusandladybug @duckyreads @neonfruitbowl @slv-333 @starlight-archer @skys-archive @justdreamersdream @moomkin77 @prazinos @dragonmama76 @lingeringmirth @darkwitchoferie @weirdandabsurd42 @zoeweee @thennic @xiaq @tinyplanet95 @steddieyourself @chrystal-lovee @futuristicunknown86 @grtwdsmwhr @mugloversonly @wonderland-girl143-blog @a-little-unsteddie @marvel-ous-m @ajeff855 @gutterflower77 @thedragonsaunt @xxbottlecapx @hairdryerducks @catateme9 @gleek4twd @jaytriesstrangerthings @rovia2323 @carlajim98 @stevesbipanic @steddiecameraroll @thermofisherscientific @ninjapirateunicorns @whenindoubtb72 @dreamwatch @spectrum-spectre @eddiethehunted @sticknpokelightningbolt @kittycatcrackhead @hawkinshighflunkee @plasticcrotches @metalmunson @rosered93 @p0lybl4nkk @bluexvelvet @nicememerino @semi-precious-stoner @persnicketysquares @bj-freeplay @practicallybegging @yesdangerpls @cryptid-system @nadineseaday @platinum-sunset @bookworm0690 @clockworkballerina

[bonefall]

Not sure if this is the place to ask or if I should go to Bonebabble, but ooh, Dungeon Meshi mention! I love what you said about low-empathy and apathy, I think I’ll use that in ny own characters.

I wanted to ask why you think Shuro is autistic. I’ve seen a lot of people say it so there must be a reason why, but I don’t think it’s really obvious to me? Like with Laios, autism/neurodivergence is so integral to his story, so it’s deeply obvious. I love the way he’s written! But we don’t see a lot of Shuro, so I’d like to hear more of why people see the tism in him.

@bonebabbles is the better place to send these in the future but it's chill! The vibe right now's loose since we're all coming down from the heaviness of Mooncourse lmao

Honestly, I feel a little 'tism in a lot of the cast of Dungeon Meshi. As a very autistic writer myself, it kind of has a vibe like it was written by someone who's autistic and so it gets peppered into all of her characters. It's something I notice a lot in my own art, too.

But like, when it comes to Toshiro... I can't stop thinking about him. He makes me want to chew the furniture. With every passing day I become less normal about him.

glossary because I had a lot of thoughts about Toshiro Dungeon Meshi i guess. Oh my god this got long

He reminds me of some people I know

His culture clash is very relatable to me in an autistic way

He has a rigid commitment to his values and morals

Miscellaneous Autism Moments

THE LAIOS FIGHT

in conclusion

He reminds me of some people I know

He reminds me of certain autistic men I've met from affluent families. The type who both is taught to repress and mask their own traits, yet also not to be incredibly mindful of the emotions of other people. Because of their status, they don't have to learn how to work out interpersonal conflict because the majority of the people around them are servants or family. People who would never go away if they didn't like you.

So, his vassals have to learn to talk to him and how to carry out his orders. Not the other way around. As a result, Toshiro has a bit of unearned confidence about his leadership abilities and communication skills. NOT in a way that is smug, DO NOT misunderstand me; just in a way that overestimates his own judgement. Maybe he has encyclopedic knowledge for talking to other nobles offscreen, but when it came to his own team, he was ignoring a lot of the good advice they gave him about taking breaks.

Yes, Toshiro is from a high-context culture-- but his communication issues are bad with everyone.

ESPECIALLY his vassals, people he calls family, from the same exact culture as him. They're worried about him, most of them are desperate for acknowledgement, they'd do anything for him, and he doesn't address this until AFTER his brawl with Laios!

His culture clash is very relatable to me in an autistic way

Toshiro knew he was going somewhere that was going to be a melting pot of mostly western cultures. He knew the manners were going to be different, and he came alone, not in a group where he was only interacting with his own people.

Yet he NEVER adjusted his own social behavior.

I'm American and my partner is British. When I first went, I had no idea why they were offering me so much tea. I thought I was being polite by following them into the kitchen, thinking they wanted to move the conversation over there. My partner quickly fixed this by explaining that when someone offers you tea, they're taking a short pause in the lull of a conversation to be a good host.

I am autistic. What someone else might have just figured out through getting an awkward look, I had to be told directly. There are a lot of little things like that.

Toshiro feels like what would happen if the opposite was happening, an autistic person from a high-context culture coming to a low-context culture. He can't properly express discomfort. It's not JUST Laios, King of Autism, that he's having issues talking to. Neither Marcille nor Chilchuck know that "Shuro" is a mispronunciation, and they had no clue that he disliked Laios THIS much.

I even think it's kinda telling that Toshiro felt the most comfortable with Falin out of the rest of the party. The hyper-empathetic autistic girl who goes out of her way to accommodate others.

He has a rigid commitment to his values and morals

A strict, uncompromising moral compass is a hallmark of autism. It's everything Toshiro does!!

When Falin was eaten, he bolted off to assemble the best team he could think of. He believes that love is sacrifice, so he pushes his body and his family to the limit to try and prove how much he loves Falin. Chilchuck freaks out when he finds out that Laios told him about the dark magic, because "HE'S THE WORST PERSON TO TELL!"

LIKE, YEAH! HE SURE IS!

Maizuru also explains that from a very young age, he's been incredibly compliant. He never asks for anything, he's always been a bit sickly and uninterested in eating. He always tries to be on his very best behavior, even if that means not asking for accommodations he might actually need.

In fact, the only food he seems to LIKE eating is what Maizuru makes him. To the point where she ended up getting pulled into the kitchen even when she was on a "mission." Senshi makes a cute comment that it's "love" that Maizuru puts into those meals, but... what if it's actually because she knows the textures and flavors he likes?

Miscellaneous Autism Moments

There's so many little moments that are so incredibly autistic to me.

He sees Falin with a bug and he proposes right on the spot. The other characters are like, "oh that's just how they act in the east" but no the fuck it is not. They don't even know "Shuro" is a mispronunciation, how the hell do they know anything about eastern courting traditions?

I know EXACTLY what happened. I'm beaming you this information directly from the truth.

Toshiro was TOLD that you're supposed to 1. make your proposals a surprise, and 2. you will know the right one when you see them, and NO ONE elaborated any further because he comes from a high context culture. He popped that question the first time both of those boxes were ticked off.

In coming from a high context culture, what he does is strictly follow rules and conditions he was taught.

And that's absolutely why he handed Laios that bell. Because he does care about him and the party, and he's taught that doing these acts of service is a show of that... and he didn't even think ahead to the fact the bell was going to be ringing constantly.

And yet. In spite of that, he ALWAYS keeps it near him.

Before it clicked and I realized why, I used to think Toshiro was kind of an asshole for running off to get his vassals without even telling Marcille and Laios about his plan. Like... how could you not know they were going to do something drastic? The three of them were the Falin Fan Club and he was the most normal member of it. It's so obvious to me that Laios (brother) and Marcille (""Gal Pal"") were going to get themselves in danger.

So how could you just run off like that without telling them? Even if lack of supplies meant they couldn't go back in, how could you just leave them worried sick in the town, thinking you abandoned Falin?

And then it hit me. The man just has low empathy.

There WAS no malice, just like how there wasn't malice in how he was pushing him and his vassals to the limits, just like how there was never malice against Laios. It simply didn't occur to him like that.

He's never been taught to consider the thoughts and feelings of others very deeply and they don't come naturally. He's still compassionate. There's a reason all of his vassals love him!

But THAT'S WHY he never put himself in Laios' shoes, or anyone else's. Empathy does not come naturally to him. All of his good behavior is as a result of his moral code, NOT empathy.

So with that said, why does he love Falin so much? Aside from the wonderful, positive traits he lists when he's asked? I mean, what's really deep down at the core of why he finds these things so lovely?

Well... Falin and Laios are not all that different from each other, to the point where Toshiro gets gently ribbed in a bonus chapter about how if one of them was a girl, Shuro might have loved Laios instead. He waxes poetic about the ways she's different from most women, how she's not afraid of things like insects, her compassion, her face, her laugh.

These are all things Laios does too (in fact in one of the panels where Toshiro is appreciating Falin, she's trying to check if a caterpillar is a male or female), but Falin's personality expresses in a more subdued and introverted way. Closer to how Toshiro is, as a person. So... I think it's because he relates to her.

To both Touden siblings. But Laios makes him see things he doesn't want to.

THE LAIOS FIGHT

We established that Toshiro has a strict commitment to his values, he probably has low empathy, and even taking his cultural differences into account he's bad at communicating.

So then, why was one of his complaints against Laios' obliviousness that he "knows he doesn't mean anything by it, and that makes it worse"? Isn't that kinda specific when you think about it?

If you're neurodivergent, I want you to think back to points in time where you dealt with people who have the same issues you do. Autism, ADHD, PTSD, DID, whatever. Did you ever have a moment where they did something harmless or mildly inconvenient, definitely as a result of the same exact thing you have, and you just... HATED it?

You HATED it even more than you would anyone else doing the same thing. You probably know your response was disproportionate. But YOU don't do that THING they did. Or if you do that, it's less bad somehow. Or you used to do that but don't anymore and it reminds you of when you did.

If you're reflective, you might have realized it might be internalized ableism. I feel like that's a huge part of why Toshiro finds Laios SO. ANNOYING. Laios is like this stupid, idiot, blundering caricature of things Toshiro has been taught to avoid, which violate his moral code. Shuro comes from a place of so many more rules and subtle cues, and it's like Laios doesn't respect any of them.

What STARTS this fight, causes Laios to finally hit back after being smacked, shoved, and shouted at, is being told "YOU'RE NOT TAKING THIS SERIOUSLY."

It's so obviously wrong! Laios, who ran back into a dungeon immediately? Who Toshiro himself called rash? This is NOT a logical conclusion to make about Laios or his party. I think it came from frustration that Laios "does things the wrong way." That it's projection, stemming from that low empathy.

He's not like Kabru in the same chapter, who's desperately trying to get a read on Laios' inner workings and failing. Shuro's just extrapolating his own feelings onto him, because he's recognizing that same "sense" within him. If TOSHIRO didn't follow the rules he sets down for himself, that's not "taking it seriously."

Toshiro follows the rules. Laios does not.

...and Laios is FREE.

He's open and honest in a way Toshiro can never be, not as a noble, not as an easterner, and not as an autistic man. Hell, Laios was ALSO a noble, he gave that up! Threw that away, and then came back to his village and took Falin away from it. If Laios is acting like an idiot, he's acting like an idiot who does everything Toshiro has ever wanted to do. Laios cannot mask and Toshiro resents that.

One of the things Toshiro even explicitly says he HATES about Laios is the fact he's willing to be a burden on other people. Maizuru said earlier that he's NEVER made a "selfish request" before-- but Laios can just open his mouth and ask for help, feeling no shame, just as he did in this chapter when he asked him not to tell the Island Lord about the dark magic.

And then, after they literally come to blows, Toshiro tells Laios some incredibly brutal things, revealing he's NEVER been his friend and he has resented him this whole time. This actually sits with Laios well into the later chapters, but the fight ends and then they're just CHATTING FRIENDLY LIKE IT DIDN'T MATTER.

More honestly than ever before, because Toshiro is returning the effort. He eats some food (the narrative's metaphor for making connections). He thanks his vassals for the first time. He talks about how he wishes he'd told Falin about all the things he adored about her when he still had the chance.

I have to take the panels of his response right out of the manga actually because this little expression here is so subtle, but so meaningful.

(Read <- <- <- that way)

Look at the way that when Laios makes that genuine movement, assuring him with passion that he will be making sure Falin receives this message, Toshiro's gut response is annoyance. But then it softens and he pauses, like he's reconsidering what his response is going to be.

To admit that he envies "this side of Laios" is also admitting that the earlier fight was based on envy.

Laios was like this the WHOLE time. Making these grand speeches about his plans, what his party's been doing, how Toshiro needs to eat something and take a nap. He's ALWAYS been like this. It was Toshiro's mindset that changed.

In conclusion

Something I really like about Dungeon Meshi is HOW MANY of its characters can be read as autistic. Laios is just the most obvious one, with his special interest in monsters and inability to read social cues being central to the plot. His is a more "well known" expression of autism-- it's rare you get characters whose masking is central to their characters.

But it's really refreshing to see characters like Kabru, Falin, and Toshiro. Autistic people are rare enough in popular media to begin with, but we NEVER get characters whose autism intersects with their trauma, gender, and culture quite like these three.

[qveerthe0ry]

Naked in Manhattan

Summary: Marcus has never slept with a man, Dieter's willing to remedy that - written for @romanarose Pride Event Week 3: Sex/kissing Word Count: 7,730 Pairing: (college aged) Marcus Pike x Dieter Bravo Rating: 18+ mdni Warnings: coming out, discussions of sexuality, brief mentions of homophobia, oral sex(m), (lots of) hickeys, frottage, cum eating, armpit stuff Betas: OBVIOUSLY @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar the loves of my life 💖A/N: I highly suggest listening to Naked in Manhattan by Chappell Roan before/while reading this. Totally got the vibes of this entire fic by listening to it on a walk one day

Dieter’s learned a lot in his five and a half years of college. Not really much about statistics or geology, but about people. He’s been around long enough to know that the sad little guy on his front porch steps, avoiding the party, and chain smoking cigarettes is having a rough go of it. 

“Hey buddy,” Dieter says, quietly, as not to startle the slumped figure. 

Marcus looks up at him through misty eyes and a cloud of stale Winston smoke.

“Hey.”

He’s not crying, but he’s definitely crying for help.

“You okay?” 

Dieter takes a seat on the step below him.

“Yeah, fine. Just needed air.”

Marcus gestures with the cigarette in his hand, then huffs out a laugh at the irony. 

“You’ve been getting drunk a lot lately.”

Maybe Dieter shouldn’t pry. It’s not unusual for his rented house to be filled with students coming and going at all hours of the day, between classes on weekdays or all day on the weekends. The cheap beer just shows up, as does the weed, and he doesn’t usually question it. 

But he’s closer to Marcus. So he notices more. He usually only sees him here on weekends. During the week he’s commonly found in the library or the student union, books sprawled out in front of him. He’s driven, pre-law, and has a better head on his shoulders than most people he hangs with. 

But Marcus has been at his place every night this week, either stumbling home in the wee hours of the morning or sleeping late on his couch or floor. It concerns Dieter in a way that surprises him. 

Usually it’s none of his business. 

“I haven’t had a sip,” Marcus tells him. 

And his voice doesn’t have that sharp, defensive tone Dieter was expecting. It’s more defeated than anything. 

“Yeah but what about last night?” 

Marcus shrugs. 

“And the night before? And every other night this week?”

“Just having fun,” Marcus mumbles through another drag of his cigarette. 

Dieterlooks around at his empty porch.

“Are you?” 

Then Marcus laughs. It bubbles up out of him in an almost terrifying way, and damn near immediately turns into sobs hidden behind his hands. 

“Fuck, dude, are you tripping?”

Marcus shakes his head. Dieter didn’t think so. He’s strictly an alcohol guy, won’t even touch weed. Something about the FBI and polygraph tests. Dieter finds it charming if not a bit manic. 

He keeps crying though, so hard he has to flick his cigarette out onto the dimly lit street so he can rub at his eyes. 

Dieter’s not sure what to do. Normally he’d offer someone drugs, but that won’t work. 

His hand hovers over Marcus’ shaking back for a few moments before he rests a heavy palm between his shoulder blades. 

He can feel the way Marcus’ breath shudders out of him, and tells him to start taking slow breaths. When it works, Dieter’s kind of amazed at how great he is at damage control. 

“That’s it man, just breathe.” 

Marcus nods, finally removes his hands from his face. He’s always been pretty in a very preppy way, with his perfect hair and teeth and his little dimples. He looks even prettier now, as much as Dieter kicks himself for that thought. His face is red and wet and his brown eyes are wider than they’ve ever been before. 

A few deep breaths in through his nose and out his mouth later, Marcus is sufficiently calm enough to speak. 

“I’m sorry.”

Dieter waves him off. 

“Don’t be. Looks like it felt good, I might have a cry later too.”

Marcus lets out a wet chuckle and shuts his eyes as one last salty little droplet brushes past his long eyelashes. 

“Everything okay at home? You’re not failing a class, are you?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s stupid.” 

“Girl problems?” 

Marcus laughs again, and Dieter startles a little, afraid he’s going to start back up sobbing at any moment. 

He doesn’t though. He’s quiet and avoiding Dieter’s gaze as he frantically gets another cigarette from his pack and lights it up. 

Dieter thinks he’s hit the nail on the head until Marcus takes a long drag of his cigarette and exhales. 

“I’m fucking gay.” 

Dieter opens his mouth in shock, or understanding, or maybe to try and say something, but Marcus continues. 

“This whole time I’ve been gay. I don’t even— I’ve had so many girlfriends. I think they’re just nice. I’ve never— I fucking hated sleeping with them. I thought it was because it was awkward, and we’re all inexperienced? It sucked, Dieter. And I thought all guys were curious about other guys, you know? They all talk about their dicks with each other, since middle school. I just thought— and then there’s this guy… in my intro to psych class. And he’s so nice and handsome and I just always want to hang out with him. And I didn’t know why. But I want to kiss him. And I never felt that way about any of my girlfriends. And now I realize I’ve just— I’ve just been gay this whole time.”

He’s out of breath when he quits talking, but he sucks down more of his cigarette anyway. Dieter isn’t quite sure what to say to him. Usually when someone comes out to him, it’s in a less… frantic manner, more proud than anything. But this poor freshman has been on a gay crisis bender all week and is more than a little traumatized by all of it, and it’s just different with Marcus. 

“That’s um… Sounds like you’ve been going through a rough time with it.” 

Marcus sniffles and nods. 

“Been through all five or whatever stages of grief already. It’s been a long week.” 

“Are you… Upset? That you’re gay?” 

Marcus’ head lolls back to thump against the porch railing. 

“No… I’m more upset that I didn't figure it out until now.” 

“You’re still plenty young, Marcus. You’re what— nineteen?”

“Eighteen. Skipped a grade.”

Jesus. Dieter feels even worse now about thinking he’s pretty when he cries. 

“See? You’re a spring chicken, dude. You figured it out plenty quick.” 

“When did you know?” 

Dieter chews on his lip, considers lying just for Marcus’ sake, but decides against it. 

“I pretty much always knew, honestly. But I mean— I was weird anyway, you know? Never really fit in or felt I had to play a certain part or be a certain way. It just made sense. Also, my dad always said I was as queer as a three dollar bill so… that helped.” 

Dieter steals the cigarette between Marcus’ fingers to take a drag himself. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Nothing to be sorry for, man,” Dieter tells him. 

Marcus stares at where Dieter’s lips wrap around his cigarette for a bit too long, and Dieter hands it back, if only to try and stop whatever it is that’s bound to happen next. 

But Marcus takes another drag himself, and his tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip, and Dieter has never been called strong-willed. 

“What’s it like?” 

“What?”

“To be with a guy? What’s it like?” 

Dieter shrugs. 

“Depends on the guy.” 

Marcus sighs. 

“Are you uh— how do you like… it?” 

“Are you asking if I’m a top or a bottom?” 

Marcus’s face flushes a cute color in the yellow of the porch lights. 

“Both,” Dieter shrugs, “but I haven’t really done that with a lot of guys. Kind of a hassle, you know?” 

Marcus nods, but then his brow quirks up in question. 

“What do you mean? What do you— what do you do, then?” 

Dieter chuckles. 

“All kinds of things, babe.” 

He watches Marcus’ breath catch, the little stutter of his chest. 

“Would you show me?” 

Dieter rolls his eyes to distract them both from the fact that he really, really wants to. 

“C’mon, man. You don’t wanna fool around with me. I’m a loser. Go find a pretty finance boy to shack up with.” 

Maybe he’s less weak-willed than he thought. 

Marcus’ shoulders slump again, and christ, though, is he supposed to just let him leave like a kicked puppy? 

“There’s no intro to psych guy.”

It’s quiet, mumbled around his cigarette, and his eyes won’t leave his feet. 

“What?” 

“It’s you, okay? You’re my— gay awakening, or whatever. Why do you think I’ve been here all week?”

Dieter’s heart is hammering against his chest at that admission. This was not how he figured his Friday night would go.

“Free beer?” 

His joke doesn’t land. Marcus rolls his eyes. 

“It’s not like… I’m not like in love with you or anything. I just… always wanna see you. And you’re— well, you know. You’re hot. And you’re really nice to everyone. And I get this… I feel so weird when I’m around you, like, nauseous. Fuck, I’m sorry.” 

Marcus flicks yet another cigarette to the curb and makes to get up, but before Dieter can think better of it, he grips him on the shoulder to keep him seated. 

“That’s… actually really sweet, Marcus.” 

He scoffs, hides his face in his hands, and it’s so cute Dieter can’t help but smile. 

“Really— Usually people just want to fuck me, or use me for drugs.” 

Marcus groans a little, mortified, and his hands run back to mess up his pristinely styled hair. 

“Buddy, I’m serious. You’re a little charmer.”

Marcus looks up from his lap at that, scratching that neatly buzzed hair on the back of his neck, and his eyes are a little less embarrassed and a little more twinkly.

“You’re just saying that.”

Dieter shakes his head grinning. 

“No, it’s cute. Being genuine is never a bad thing.”

And the thing is, Dieter’s not lying. It’s possibly the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to him. But he’s toeing a very very fine line here, with himself. Because Marcus is so pretty, and so smart, and he’s soft and kind and he’s real but he’s young. 

And Dieter’s just a Super Super Senior, a total burnout, on his way to holding the world record for The Longest College Career. He’s 23 and he’s still undecided and he probably won’t even get  a college degree after all is said and done. 

But Marcus is looking at him with those big brown eyes, watching, calculating. 

“I just— I feel like you wouldn’t judge me. If I did the wrong thing. You know?”

“I wouldn’t. Anyone who would isn’t worth your time.”

Marcus huffs. Maybe Dieter can still save this. 

“Would you… tell me? What you’d do? What I should do?”

And just like that, Dieter is hopping right over that line with both feet. 

“Kiss me.”

Marcus’ eyes grow even bigger.

“Like, right now? Here?” 

“If you want to. That’s what I’d want you to do, to kiss me right here, like you couldn’t help yourself.”

And Dieter will be damned if he doesn’t do just that, surging forward to grab the sides of his face and press their lips together. 

His lips are so soft, and his face is smooth, and he’s eager, a bit too much, but it only adds to that coincidental charm. Dieter’s left to catch up, as Marcus swipes his tongue along the seam of his mouth and groans. 

Dieter pulls away. Marcus’ mouth gapes open, and his shoulders heave with his fast breaths. 

“You’re so… scruffy.”

Dieter chuckles, wipes Marcus’ spit from his lips and straightens out his mustache. 

“Not good?”

“No, god no, it’s really good.”

And then Marcus smashes their lips together again as a pathetic little sound escapes his throat. Dieter opens his mouth this time, lets Marcus slide his tongue around, a little violent, and this is all a bit too much for some front porch steps, isn’t it?

“Hey,” Dieter says softly, pulling away. 

Marcus’ brows draw up in confusion. 

“Sorry. I’m not a good kisser, am I?”

Dieter sighs, grabs one of Marcus’ hands on his face to link their fingers together. 

“It’s not that,” he says. 

He turns his face to kiss the center of Marcus’ palm and smiles when his breath hitches. 

“You really wanna do this with me?” 

Marcus is nodding before Dieter even finishes speaking. 

“Only if you really want it, too.”

Dieter squeezes his hand. 

“I do, really.”

Marcus smiles the sweetest little smile, and they both stand up, and Dieter doesn’t let his hand go. 

There’s music on in the house, and it smells like weed, and a few people are playing Nintendo in the living room. They don’t pay any mind as Dieter pulls Marcus up to the second floor, down the hall, and into his dimly lit bedroom. 

At least he’s kept it semi-tidy, he thinks, as Marcus looks around while he shuts and locks the door. His bed isn’t made. He’s sure Marcus makes his bed every morning before class. He hopes he doesn’t mind. 

He seems like he’s too nervous to mind, a jittery little thing standing next to his bed. He’s fiddling with the hem of his shirt, staring holes into the stained carpet, when Dieter moves to stand in front of him. 

“Are you nervous?” 

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Dieter grabs both of his hands, and Marcus finally meets his gaze. 

“It’s okay to be nervous. As long as it’s good nervous.” 

He smiles and nods, but the worry in his brow is still there. 

“We won’t do anything you don’t wanna do, okay?”

That seems to soothe him more. 

“Can we kiss again?”

Dieter chuckles. 

“Of course we can.”

Marcus tips over into him, landing at the side of his mouth but quickly correcting course. He licks, but Dieter keeps his mouth shut, goading him to calm down. And he does, slotting his lips around Dieter's bottom one, and everything else slips into place with a soft, satisfied noise from his own chest. 

He lets go of Marcus’ sweaty hands to grab his hips instead, lithe and a little bony. He twitches at the touch, sighs, and presses his lips harder into Dieter’s. His hands search around frantically, jostling them both, until he finds the hem of Dieter’s sweatshirt and gets his hands underneath. 

“Slow,” Dieter mumbles. 

“Hm?”

“Not a race, Marcus. Take your time. Enjoy it.” 

Marcus nods, but gapes at him, like he’s not quite sure what to do next. 

“You wanna get comfy? Take your shoes off, sit down?”

Marcus nods again, but with a little direction, takes his shoes off and sits on the bed, criss-cross applesauce like the cutest fucking thing Dieter’s ever seen. 

“I want this to be— I want you to have a good time, feel good. So tell me if you don’t feel good… or if there’s anything you wanna try. Communication is like, super sexy, right?”

Dieter sheds his shoes and his hoodie as he speaks, thinks he catches Marcus’ eyes staring at the spot between his signature pajama pants and his shirt where it rides up. 

“Yeah… like, dirty talk?”

Dieter huffs out a laugh as he sits facing Marcus, crossing his legs, mirroring him to make him as comfortable as possible.

“Could be dirty talk, yeah. But just normal talk, too. It can be hot to talk about things like… how do you like to be touched? Where?” 

Marcus clears his throat and scratches the back of his head with a puzzled look on his face. 

“My— my dick?”

Dieter wants to laugh, but he can’t blame the guy. It sounds like the only experience he’s had so far is rushed fucks with high school sweethearts. 

“Okay, yeah, that’s a good start. So, for me, I like being kissed. Everywhere. I like feeling lips on my jaw and my neck and especially my nipples. You can bite, too.”

Marcus’ eyebrows raise, his plush lips forming a circular shape that Dieter tries and fails not to focus on. 

“Oh, yeah, okay. I— I like that too. I like when it’s… sloppy.”

Dieter hums, smiles, and nods.

“Anything else you like?” 

He watches Marcus bite his bottom lip and trace shapes on the bedsheets between them. 

“I don’t really know.” 

“That’s okay. Maybe we can figure it out together, yeah?”

His long eyelashes flutter as he blinks real slow, and he smiles. 

“Yeah. Thank you.” 

Dieter does chuckle then. 

“You don’t need to thank me. I’m gonna have a lot of fun with you.”

Christ, Dieter thinks, if his face gets any more red he might burst into flames. 

He kisses him, to save him from a fiery death. It’s a little awkward, with both of their legs crossed in front of them, but it’s easier to take their time like this. 

Marcus keeps it slow, so Dieter can finally lead. He licks into his mouth to feel his hard palate, and the way he whimpers and shivers in response is so delicious that Dieter can’t help but to do it again and again. 

He feels long fingers grip his thighs, soft at first, but squeezing harder when Marcus returns the favor and scrapes his tastebuds along Dieter’s sharp canines. 

There’s twin sighs when Marcus pulls away, only a little, eyes still shut. 

“You’re really fucking good at this,” he mumbles. 

Dieter hums and pecks his lips again, soft and wet. 

“Could kiss you all night.”

It’s true, even though there’s also a million other things he wants to do with Marcus. He tries to push those wants down by kissing him again, getting that plump bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling on it. The noise Marcus makes has his cock filling steadily with blood, and he knows it’s very obvious in his pajama pants, and he hopes Marcus doesn’t freak out.

Like he’s reading Dieter’s mind, Marcus’ hands slide so fucking slowly up his thighs. The movements are jerky, and he hesitates when just the tip of his finger brushes his cock. His inhale is audible, but his curious touch proceeds, just the lightest ghosting across his shaft. 

But then he’s pulling away, and Dieter feels on edge, bracing himself for the worst. 

“Can I touch it?”

Dieter exhales his relief.

“You can… Are you open to suggestions, though?”

Marcus nods, his slick mouth hanging open. 

“You could get on top of me, let me feel how much you like this, too. Drag it out, make me really want it.” 

He smirks as Marcus curses, closing his eyes and pressing his palm to the front of his jeans. But he nods, and uncrosses his legs, so Dieter does the same. 

And then, he’s got a lapful of Marcus, and he’s staring up into his glassy, beautiful eyes. 

“Like this?”

His hips shift, and his pert little ass grinds against Dieter’s cock while his own presses against his belly. 

“Just like that. Is this still okay?” 

Marcus doesn’t answer him, just devours his lips again as he rocks his hips and supplies them both with heady friction. His little whimpers are muffled, and his teeth are sinking into Dieter’s lip a little too hard, but in a way that makes his cock throb and pulse against the tight ass against it. 

Dieter’s hands find those lithe hips again, this time under his shirt. His skin is scalding to the touch and so fucking smooth. He digs his thumbs into his hip bones, drags little circles into them that make his hips jolt and stutter. 

Fuck. He likes this a lot. Maybe too much. He pulls himself away to reel it in a bit, maybe to check and make sure this is still alright—

“I’m so fucking hard,” Marcus breathes, “I’ve never felt like this.” 

And as he speaks, he’s ripping his t-shirt over his head and flinging it elsewhere. 

He’s gorgeous. A little scrawny but smooth, everywhere, just miles of tan skin that’s paler here where it gets no sun. Dieter wants to bite, and kiss, and suckle on every fucking inch of it. 

For now, Dieter uses all of his brain power to mumble a distracted ‘me too,’ as his hands moved upward to splay across all that hairless skin. 

Marcus’ stomach tenses and relaxes under his hands, and his chest heaves as Dieter cradles his ribs and brushes his thumbs over his nipples. 

“Does this feel good?” 

He circles them, flicks them a little bit, and wants to curl up and live in that little gasp Marcus makes. 

“Yes.” 

His head is leaning back between his shoulders, all raised and on-edge. That’s not what Dieter wants. He wants him relaxed, wants him all gooey and loose. 

Slowly, gently, Dieter tips him over, a hand on the back of his head until it lands on the pillows. The look in his eyes gets a little squirrely, and his breath picks up, and his nails scrabble at Dieter’s bicep. 

“Is this still okay?” 

Marcus nods quickly, but he’s slower with the verbal response. 

“I think so… just nervous.” 

“Still good nervous?” 

As if to prove it, he cants his hips up into Dieter and he’s rock hard against his thigh. 

“Still good nervous.”

Dieter’s own prick throbs and twitches as he hums. He lowers himself even more over Marcus, finds his racing pulse point and plants a hot, wet kiss there. 

“Can I kiss you here?” he whispers. 

His chin brushes Dieter’s cheek when he nods, and Marcus relocates his hands to reach up the back of his shirt. His palms are sweaty and hot as Dieter trails a wet line of kisses down to his prominent collar bone. 

His skin is so salty, and the heat from his body is making his cheap cologne smell even stronger, and Dieter feels high even though he hasn’t smoked in hours. 

“How about here, Marcus?”

He looks up at the younger man as he hovers his mouth above one tiny, pebbled nipple. He watches as his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and smiles and impish grin when Marcus nods again. 

The groan he receives when he closes his mouth around it has him pressing his hips to the mattress for relief. One of Marcus’ hands finds Dieter’s hair and grips.

“Ah fuck.”

Just like that, the fingers loosen and leave his head and Dieter actually whines at the loss. 

“Sorry!”

“No, no, that was a good fuck. Love getting my hair pulled.”

Dieter glances back up at Marcus and watches as his wheels turn. 

“Oh… really?”

He chuckles as he places a sloppy kiss on his sternum, delighted at the way the muscles twitch under his lips. 

“Mmmhmm.”

Marcus sighs as Dieter finds his other nipple.  

“My ex-girlfriend hated it.” 

Dieter nips at the hard bud in his mouth and smirks when Marcus’ hips jolt up. 

“I like a little pain with my pleasure,” he explains. 

“I— can you bite me again?”

Dieter curses and obliges immediately, sinking his teeth into the meat of his pec this time. 

“God, I like that.”

He even earns another tug at his hair, and Dieter knows there’s gotta be a damp spot on the front of his pajamas. 

“That’s so good, Marcus. Keep telling me what you like.” 

Marcus squirms under him as he alternates a string of kisses and licks and bites down his torso. His nails scratch Dieter’s scalp in between tugging on his hair, and this is the most fun Dieter’s had in the bedroom in a long while. 

Marcus has a tiny bit of hair below his belly button, and it’s so fucking cute and whispy when Dieter runs his tongue along the path. But before Dieter can get the fly of his jeans unfastened, Marcus holds a hand over his. 

“Can I try on you now?” 

Dieter’s gaze flickers up to his face, and he looks so sweet, pleading with his big puppy eyes. 

“Yeah, yes, of course you can.”

Marcus smiles, and it’s sure, like he’s finally settled into this, and it makes Dieter’s apprehension fall away. 

It also makes him that much more horny, hard as ever when he lies down with his head on the pillows. He reaches down to readjust and watches Marcus clock the movement with a heady look.

“This is good for you, too?” 

His voice is breathy when he asks, when his hand slips under Dieter’s t-shirt. 

“Marcus, I’m loving this. I feel like a sexy experiment. Poke and prod me, babe.” 

And through all of this newness and anxiety and apprehension, Marcus laughs. It’s music to Dieter’s ears, watching his eyes light up as he chuckles. 

“Take this off then,” he instructs through his laughter. 

“Yes sir,” Dieter purrs, “bossing me around also does it for me. You’re a natural already.” 

“Y-yeah? I don’t— I’ve never been like that.”

Dieter fumbles to back track at the way Marcus’ confidence falls away. 

“It’s okay, that’s an advanced lesson. My bad. Just— Just do what you want with me. Explore. I’m all yours.” 

He talks as he sheds his shirt, and when the damned thing finally pulls free, he feels a little scrutinized under Marcus’s wide eyes. And he kinda really likes it. 

He settles back against the mattress, one arm above his head while the other reaches out to encourage Marcus to come closer. He does, only a little timid as his gaze rakes over every inch of his body. 

He settles between Dieter’s spread legs, one hand dipping the mattress next to him while the other lands hesitantly on his flank. His warm, sweaty palm feels the skin there, draws upward toward his chest, but takes a completely unconventional detour to his armpit. 

Dieter’s cock throbs. This is so fucking weird and so fucking hot. 

Marcus’ jaw drops slack as his fingers card through all of his armpit hair, and it tickles a little bit, but mostly it just makes Dieter’s arousal grow heavy in his groin, burning. 

Before Dieter can really assess what’s going on, or encourage him, or tell him how fucking hard he’s making him, Marcus leans down to capture his lips in his own. 

Dieter groans and scrabbles to grip his waist, arching his hips for any relief and finding it against the front of Marcus’ jeans, a hard line wrapped in denim that twitches against his own. He moans, low and long, as he twirls the thick hair between his finger and thumb. 

And then his hand is gone, and Dieter’s quite disappointed, but he can’t just say that, can he? He weighs the pros and cons of telling Marcus not to stop as the other man trails his lips down the patchy stubble on his jaw, and bites the sensitive skin on his neck. 

Maybe he should tell him. That’s a good lesson, right? How to take feedback, good or bad. But ‘hey keep stroking my armpit hair’ is a bit startling, isn’t it? 

He’s so distracted by the inner turmoil that he doesn’t realize the path Marcus’ has taken until hot breath ghosts that bit of fat between his tit and armpit and then he sniffs, and groans, and licks up all the hair while he presses his cock down into Dieter’s own and Jesus Fuck—

He quickly finds purchase in Marcus’ hair and curses, grinds his hips back up into him with what he hopes is encouraging words. But forgive him if his brain is a little bit completely scrambled. 

Marcus bites just under his patch of armpit hair, burying his nose in it once more, and these primal sounds he makes are vibrating through Dieter’s chest. All he can do at this point is lie back and take it and succumb to the fact that this is definitely altering his brain chemistry for the rest of his life. 

It all stops rather abruptly, though, and two hot hands grab Dieter’s hips hard, pushes them down into the mattress as Marcus arches away from him. 

“I might— I might come.”

Dieter blinks his bleary eyes open to look at the panicked man, who’s squeezing his eyes shut and biting his lip. 

“It’s okay if you do. You can have me all night.” 

“Fuck— Shut up, Jesus Christ.”

Dieter huffs, scratches at his wet armpit, and patiently waits for Marcus to settle down. He could probably come that way too, to be honest, with that pretty boy’s tongue lapping at his underarm and their cocks grinding together. 

Marcus’ eyelashes flutter open, and Dieter smiles at him softly, careful not to move or touch. He looks like a hair trigger, sweaty and panting already, with a really fucking hot damp patch soaking through the crotch of his jeans. 

“Sorry. I think I’m good— wait, sorry, was that weird?”

Dieter allows himself to place one of his hands on Marcus’ own, where it’s still gripping tight to his hip bone. 

“It was weird in the hottest way possible.” 

Marcus shakes his head at himself and closes his eyes again. 

“I’m dead serious. I didn’t know how sensitive I was there. You’re teaching me things. That’s super hot.”

Marcus sighs. 

“It’s just… I like the hair. And your deodorant smells nice.”

He pries his eyes open, like he expects Dieter to be disgusted, but his confession only makes his cock jump very prominently in his pajamas. 

“Doesn’t taste very good, though.” 

And now Dieter is laughing, and tugging Marcus back down, mumbling ‘prove it’ and shoving his tongue into his offensively chemical-flavored mouth. 

It’s okay though, he just licks and licks until the taste has dissipated and Marcus is letting go of the death grip on his sides. His mouth follows a much more predictable route, this time, and Dieter watches his every move as those pretty lips wrap around his nipples, one and then the other, until he’s biting and Dieter is whimpering and asking for more. 

“You can leave marks. I like ‘em.” 

Marcus curses against his sternum and obeys, so fucking obedient, suckling Dieter’s skin and rolling it between his teeth. Looking up at him, his eyes look so determined, all dark and heavy, especially when he pulls away to admire the bruise he’s left. 

“More. Want to see you all over me in the morning.” 

“Fuck, Dieter. How’d you get so good at— at talking like that?” 

Dieter chuckles, then hisses when Marcus sucks the skin on his belly into the sharp edges of his teeth. He’s looking up with an expectant quirk of his brow.

“I just say what’s on my mind,” he answers.

Marcus hums, and Dieter places his hand on his jaw to feel it working, a third mark blooming bright red on his hip. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asks. 

A fourth mark, this one deeper than the rest, right above the waistband of his pants, as Marcus thinks. 

“I want your cock in my mouth.”

Said cock jerks wildly, disrupting the tent in his pajamas, and Marcus has the audacity to smirk. Dieter lets his thumb trace that wet, swollen bottom lip and doesn’t miss the little whine that Marcus tries to hide. 

“Will you teach me?” 

It’s now that Dieter realizes he’s created an absolute monster, with Marcus looking up at him all wide-eyed, batting those long eyelashes. He knows what he’s doing, and it just makes it all so much worse. Or better. Both, really. 

He clears his throat to try to gather his bearings before he speaks. 

“Yeah, I’ll teach you. Pull it out for me.” 

Dieter watches as his breath hitches, and he eyes the tent in Dieter’s pants with an array of emotions washing over his features. There’s hesitation for sure, as he toys with his waistband. But he’s licking his lips, and taking a big deep breath as he tugs them down Dieter’s thighs. 

And then he’s staring at his cock, swaying in the breeze, and Dieter thinks this would be much less intense if penises weren’t so offensive and in your face. 

“Pretty,” Marcus mumbles, and it makes him giggle. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, it’s— I like it.” 

“Thank you. That’s very sweet.” 

Marcus rolls his eyes but smiles. 

“I can touch it?”

“Yeah, of course. Anything you want. Go at your own pace.”

Maybe it’s cliche, but as soon as Marcus’ hand wraps around his cock, Dieter is done for. Fuck, it feels so good, the way his movements are gentle and calculated, the way he’s being so attentive for his first time, exploratory. His free hand cradles Dieter’s sac, his thumb tracing the seam, and it’s alarming how close this is getting him. It’s so intimate, and genuine, and it’s so hot that he gets to be here for Marcus’ first time. 

Marcus squeezes him tight and strokes, once, from base to tip. He thumbs at his frenulum, slippery with pre come, then lifts that to his lips. It’s like slow motion when he watches him poke his tongue out to taste, and he closes his eyes and hums. 

“Better than the deodorant, for sure.” 

And Dieter’s cock bobs as he laughs. 

“That’s a relief.” 

“I’ve never tasted my own before,” Marcus says. 

“No?” 

“Mm-mm. Seemed… gay.” 

And he laughs at himself, but his face inches closer, and in an instant his tongue is flicking out to lap up more of it, straight from the source. 

Dieter gasps at the contact, so sudden. His taste buds are rough against his slit, in a good way, and he has to cradle Marcus’ neck to reel himself in. 

“That’s so good,” he whispers, “keep doing that.” 

And he does, little kitten licks to the sensitive head of his cock, looking up at him from under those long eyelashes. Dieter groans and closes his eyes because if Marcus keeps looking at him like that, he will come before he can have any fun with him. 

Then, in an instant, he’s completely enveloped by warmth and wetness, too fast, and he opens his eyes at the same time Marcus gags and coughs and pulls off of him. 

“Jesus, Marcus, take it slow.” 

He coughs more, with brow all furrowed and frustrated, and Dieter smooths his hair off of his forehead. 

“Are you alright?” 

Marcus clears his throat as he nods. 

“Yeah, sorry, I can’t— I thought that would be easier.”

Dieter huffs, sits up a bit and leans on his elbow so he can see him better. His eyes are watery and not in a sexy way this time. He pets Marcus’ hair a bit, hoping to soothe him, but the redness doesn’t fade from his cheeks. 

“You don’t have to take it all, that’s no fun, choking like that,” he says, “are you sure you’re okay? We can stop.” 

“No! No— I don’t wanna stop. I’m just embarrassed.”

God, he’s so fucking sweet. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. We’ve all been there. I threw up on the first dick I sucked.” 

“Gross, dude.”

“I’m just saying, it could be way worse. Nothing to even be embarrassed about.” 

Marcus sighs and hides his face in the crease of Dieter’s hip. 

“Seriously, I’m still so hard I could shatter diamonds. You’re so fucking hot, it doesn’t matter if you choke a little.” 

He feels Marcus’ teeth on the skin of his hip before he sees his jaw moving. He bites and sucks and it’s another beautiful piece of him he’ll get to take from this experience. 

“That’s it. It’s all about the recovery. Fuck, Marcus, your mouth feels so good on me. Everywhere.” 

Dieter lifts his hips up to encourage him to bite more, mark him up all over. He follows eagerly, until there’s little love bites scattered across the thin skin over his hip bone and his cock is weeping for attention. 

Marcus looks up at him, finally, as he hovers just above his prick.

“Can I try again?”

Dieter hums and cards his fingers through his thick brown hair. 

“Play until you win, babe.” 

He’s much more careful, this time. He takes the head into his mouth and sucks, lets his tongue lather and swirl around it as his hand keeps his dick in place. He’s gorgeous, with his cheeks hollowed out and his eyes shut in concentration. 

“Yeah, just like that, fucking perfect.”

Marcus whimpers around his cock, and drool is starting to leak from the corners of his mouth and drip down Dieter’s shaft. 

“Move your hand a bit, jerk me off while you suck on it.”

He follows the direction so well, letting his hand draw up to meet his lips, then back down, over and over, and Dieter can feel his gut growing hot and tight. His tongue is working him relentlessly, and he’s never really had a partner use theirs so much, but the frantic swirling and flicking has his head spinning. 

“You’re amazing,” Dieter breathes, “making me feel so good.”

At the encouragement, Marcus braves another inch of his cock. He starts to bob his head up and down, following his lips with his fist, and the breaths through his nose get heavier. Dieter babbles a bit, just encouraging words as Marcus works him dutifully, trying with all his might not to thrust up into his hot, sloppy mouth. 

But then Marcus looks up at him with his pretty brown eyes and groans around the cock in his mouth and it’s too much. 

“Fuck— fuck, Marcus, let me go.” 

Marcus does, as quickly as he can, panting when his mouth is finally free. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Dieter huffs. 

“Nothing, you’re perfect, gorgeous, beautiful. I just don’t wanna come yet.” 

“Oh.”

The little cock drunk smile he gets is too cute, and Dieter tugs lightly on his hair to get him to crawl back up for a kiss. He tastes like pre-cum, and his nails bite into the heated skin of Marcus’ back for purchase. 

“How are you feeling? Still gay?” 

Marcus laughs against his lips. 

“The gayest I’ve ever been.” 

Dieter collapses back on the pillows to look up at him. 

“Really though, are you still into this?” 

Marcus nods, presses his hips into Dieter’s thigh to swipe away any last remaining doubt. 

“Alright, next and final lesson. Get those tight little jeans off.”

He’s so quick to obey, and Dieter tries not to gawk at how much bigger that wet spot has grown just below his fly. He shakes himself out of it and gets his pajama pants completely off his legs. 

Marcus is so fucking hot, jesus, Dieter feels like he’s pushing his luck having him here in his bed. So lean and long, and his cock is uncut and curves a bit to the left, and he’s still so hard. 

“Get beside me, face me.”

And Marcus looks right at home like this, laid out in his bed, with his bicep bulging from propping his head up on his hand. 

“What’s the lesson?” 

Dieter smirks at the eagerness. 

“I’m gonna jerk us off together.”

Marcus raises his brow. 

“Like, at the same time?”

Dieter hums his affirmative, reaches a tentative hand out to cup Marcus’ pert little asscheek, and chuckles when he twitches. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll save that for another time. If you want.” 

“Shit, yeah, okay.”

And isn’t that gonna be fun? The thought makes Dieter’s cock throb and jerk and he shuffles to close the distance so their pricks line up together. 

“Is this okay? Like this?” 

He looks up from their cocks to watch Marcus’ jaw go slack. 

“Oh god, ‘m not gonna last at all.”

Even as he says it, he’s wrapping his own hand around both of them and squeezing, groaning at the feeling and bucking his hips so they slide together. 

“I don’t want you to last, I want you to feel good.” 

Dieter lets his hand join the fun, covering what Marcus can’t, and his cock jumps in their combined hold when Marcus whines.

“I do, I— fuck, I really do.” 

“Kiss me?”

He’s cut off by Marcus’ lips, all swollen and hot against his own. Marcus moans as soon as their tongues meet, and he starts shaking like a leaf. His hand squeezes harder around their pricks, works them faster, and Dieter can feel each and every twitch of his dripping cock. 

He’s so frantic with it. His breathing whistles fast through his nose, panting into his mouth, and every other exhale is a desperate little noise. It only takes a few dozen strokes for Marcus to fall apart.

“Gonna come— I’m coming, Dieter—”

He gasps as it washes over him. Dieter feels his hot, sticky cum splash over his own hand and his cock and his stomach. Marcus hides his face in the crook of Dieter’s neck and bites as it courses through him. It sends a hot white spark down his spine, and what little filter he’d maintained throughout the night completely short-circuits.

“Shit, that’s it. So fucking good, coming all over me— Fuck, Marcus, you’re hot when you come. You feel so fucking good.”

Marcus whimpers through his aftershocks as Dieter fills his ears with whatever filth he can muster. When it’s too much, and Marcus has to slide his spent cock from their joined hands, he doesn’t let go of Dieter. He helps, with the slick aid of his cum, and Dieter topples over the edge with a growl and Marcus sucks another mark into his overheated skin. 

It’s blinding, it’s his favorite orgasm he’s ever had for sure. Marcus gasps when the first streak of his spend shoots all over his smooth stomach. 

“Fuck yes,” he sighs, exerted but intrigued as Dieter fucks their fists. 

His cum mixes with the stains Marcus already left on his blanket, slowing to a trickle just as Marcus’ grasp loosens. Even when he’s empty, Dieter can still feel the orgasm buzzing through his body as he tries to regain his breath. 

Marcus finally looks up from the scene of the crime and Dieter wants to take a picture of the fucked-out look on his face, his messy hair, his spit-slick lips and flushed face. But he can’t, so he kisses him instead, closing his eyes so maybe he can burn that image into his memory for eternity. 

It’s lazy, so much slower and softer than the way Marcus kissed when he was all keyed up. 

Shit.

Dieter’s in for it. He’s always had an addictive personality, and having Marcus in his bed has been stronger than any fucking drug he’s tried before. 

He whimpers when Marcus pulls away, chasing his lips just for a moment before he reels himself back in. 

He looks down at the mess he’s going to promptly ignore, thinks about how far away the bathroom closet is with all the towels. But then one slender finger is swiping through the cum puddle between them, and lifting to his face, and Dieter devours. 

Marcus chuckles at the desperate noise Dieter makes as he swirls his tongue around to lick up every last drop. 

“How do we taste together?” 

Goddamn, Marcus is much more suave after an orgasm. 

“Like we were made for each other.” 

Christ, he needs to get himself together. His brain is just so fucking fuzzy and light.

Marcus doesn’t run for the hills, though. He giggles, and dips that same finger into their mess again. He brings it up to his own lips this time, sucking it inside his mouth and pulling it out clean. 

There’s a slight grimace as he rolls it around in his mouth. 

“Not as sweet as you were earlier.” 

And Dieter laughs, brushes his two cleanest knuckles against the skin of Marcus’ hip. 

“It’s an acquired taste.” 

Marcus nods, and looks down between them, and some of that lightness in his features fizzles out. 

“Hang on— here, use these.”

Dieter hands him his discarded pajama pants, and they use one leg each to tidy up their hands and stomachs and cocks. Then Dieter balls them up to swipe at his sticky blanket as best as he can. And it’s all so quiet, as their breathing has evened out, and fuck, what if Marcus has some crazy post-nut clarity after this… heavy situation? 

He’s staring at the bedroom door when Dieter looks up to face him. 

“Should I uh… go… now?” 

Dieter sighs and finally gets his freshly wiped hand on Marcus’ skin, colder now where all the sweat has cooled. 

“Personally, I would like it if you stayed. Cuddling after sex is… well, I like it a lot. Some people don’t… it’s okay if you don’t. Whatever you’re comfortable with. This was probably a lot for y—”

Marcus cuts off his rambling— thank god— by burrowing his face in Dieter’s chest and tangling their naked legs together. They both release two huge twin sighs, and Dieter’s instantly soothed by the weight against him, and the lithe fingers stroking his back. 

Dieter can’t help it, he tucks his chin and plants a kiss to the crown of Marcus’ head. He drowns in the scent of sweat and cheap shampoo and feels so grounded for the first time in a very long time. 

Marcus hums, and Dieter pulls him in tighter, swipes his palm over the curve of his tiny asscheek. 

He clears his throat. 

“I don’t have any plans tomorrow…” 

Marcus lifts his head, and he looks so sleepy but so satisfied. 

“So we can stay up all night? You can— could you show me more things?” 

Dieter chuckles and kisses his lips to hide how relieved he feels. 

“Was gonna see if you wanted to catch a movie or something. But I think I like your idea better.” 

“Oh— a movie sounds good! I mean, it would be chill.” 

Dieter huffs. 

“Split the difference, we’ll watch a movie here while I eat your cute little ass?” 

Dieter actually feels his limp cock twitch against his thigh, and tries to hold back a self-satisfied smirk. 

“Yep. Yeah, let’s do that instead.” 

Dieter kisses him, this time just because he can. 

“Get some sleep first, okay? I’ll be right here.” 

The look of comfort on Marcus’ face makes his chest burn and ache. His droopy eyelids close as he smiles, and his head drops to Dieter’s splayed out arm. 

He just watches, for a little while. Lets himself count the deep, even breaths Marcus takes and feels them on the skin of his bicep. 

His arm is gonna go numb in about two minutes tops, and he’ll cherish every pinprick until he drifts off.

[nekropsii]

okay I saw a post of yours where you mentioned Dave was sexually abused, and I’ve only read homestuck recently and only once so maybe I wasn’t paying enough attention, so I’m curious where you saw that? genuine question, not trying to be like, bad faith or anything

Bluntly - This is, in fact, a “not paying enough attention” issue. It’s tackled incredibly directly, constantly, all the time, in Dave’s intro.

I fail to see how constantly exposing your child to fetish porn, keeping them surrounded by sex toys, and literally including them in fetish porn, which is by definition CP by the way, is anything but sexual abuse. Dave is 13 years old, and this has clearly been going on for a very, very long time, judging by the fact that Dave’s already reached the Realization Phase and is trying to pretend everything’s fine in a way that indicates that this was once normal to him.

I’m not saying Bro has ever sexually assaulted Dave, we don’t have evidence for that. But the sexual boundary between them is practically nonexistent, and that level of carelessness is an act of abuse in itself. I mean, Dave clearly feels abused and traumatized by it, if you actually read the intro and realize this isn’t a comedy. Shit, recovering from Bro’s Abuse is what his whole character arc is about. It’s a little hard to miss - he has several very direct speeches about it. If we’re going to accept the Strifing between Bro and Dave as abuse - which it is, textually - we need to accept the other shit, too. The sexual abuse, the emotional and psychological torment, the brazen neglect… That house is presented like a Saw Trap for a fucking reason, you know? Navigating an abusive environment really feels like being in a never ending Saw Trap.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Gojo's s/o ignoring him and not making him sweets after he made them mad? Not in a mean way, they're grumpy but still want him to live longer so they still pack lunch for him. Just no more sweets.

Gojo opened his bento for lunch with his precious students, and frowned immediately when he saw there was no dessert in his lunch box.

For the past few days now, [Y/N] had been mad at him. He couldn’t figure out why and at this point he was too embarrassed/concerned to ask. They acted fairly normal, but the shift in their demeanor had subtly shifted. They would push his arms away when he tried to hug him. They slept on “their side of the bed” instead of in the middle with him like they always do. They hardly texted him at all through out the day other than maintenance text like ‘what do you want for dinner?’ ‘when will you be home?’ ‘pick up milk.’

The kicker though was that they weren’t packing him any treats in his lunch box. [Y/N] knew how much of a sweet tooth Gojo had. They usually thought it was cute. But the past few days he had been without homemade treats, and he had to resort to store bought vending machine snacks to get by.

Still, Gojo ate his bento in its entirety. Because despite the lack of sweets it was still very good and he wouldn’t waste it. When he got home that evening, he decided to take the bull by the horns. Gojo would have to ask what was going on and fall on his sword for an apology.

He just hoped their wasn’t a real sword involved.

“[Y/N], can you tell me what’s wrong?” Gojo asked. Just jumping right in when he came through the door and saw them doing dishes.

“What? What are you talking about?” They weren’t playing dumb. They were literally caught off guard by his question.

“I know something is up. You’ve been distant lately. Cold.” He watched as they put down the sponge with a sigh.

“I’ve been distracted.”

“Too distracted to put snacks in my bento.” Gojo muttered to himself quietly. He knew it was petty, but he needed those sweets to function. “Look, if you just…tell me what’s wrong, I’ll fix it. I’ll apologize. We’ll move on. We’ll go get ice cream.”

“I don’t want ice cream.” ‘Well not everything is about you’ He wanted to say, but was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. “You didn’t do anything. Not…technically.”

Gojo arched a brow. “What does ‘not technically’ mean?” Usually if he did something, he 100% did it and there was no question that he did it. Gojo never claimed to be the model of temperance, patience, or restraint, but he’s also never been ‘kind of in trouble’ for something.

“I’m pregnant.” That left a haymaker in his gut. “It’s why I’ve been distracted. I was trying to figure out what to do and how to tell you, and I guess I thought I was playing it cool. Sorry if you felt left out in the ‘cold’.”

Gojo rubbed his head. Oh shit, he felt bad for that now. But there was an overwhelming feeling coming up inside him. He rushed over to [Y/N] and scooped them in a hug. “Why didn’t you just tell me?!”

“Well…it’s not like we planned this. And I wasn’t sure you wanted kids.”

“What are you talking about?! I love kids!” He was the best teacher in the whole world.

“You love teenagers you only have to spend a few hours a day with.” Fair. “A baby is…different.”

“Yeah, but it’s our baby.” He told them. Leaning in to press their foreheads together.

This was a much surprise than anything he could have hoped for in his lunches. He and his beloved were going to have a baby. There was no sweeter treat than that.

[astro-royale]

「How to know you are spiritually protected ☥

My own insights into spiritual protection- Amaryllis

1. This is going to sound weird but… feeling invisible when you go outside in large crowds. Sometimes it will literally feel like you’re gliding..and some people can’t see you at all. Some people seem to look straight ahead completely unaware of your presence..and the people who look, turn their heads to look again to make sure they’ve seen you correctly. Because your auric field stands out so much…

2. You are safe in situations most people wouldn’t be. This is not by any means an invitation to try this out because if you F* around you will find out! - Spirit. But maybe you end up being in certain circumstances where you have to walk alone at night on certain streets that may have a certain negative reputation and you always end up being safe. Like having to take a certain particular way home everytime you come home from school or work and other people have horror stories about that road/street yet you don’t and you’ve always been fine.

3. Learn to see the hidden blessing behind rejection. You get rejected by many people, jobs, “opportunities”…this one sounds strange again but it goes back to what I said in point number 1 with somehow being invisible to certain people with negative energies that could possibly harm you. Sometimes when it comes to romantic relationships especially…we have short term contracts with people..but staying within that connection any longer would be harmful so spirit encourages us to sever that tie or to let go because it served its spiritual purpose. Maybe that person suddenly decides they want to break up or don’t like you anymore. Rejection is Gods protection. I’ll say that again. Rejection is Gods protection. Whatever is meant for you, will find you and be with you.

4. You have some sort of extra sensory gift. With power comes responsibility. If god gave you some sort of intuitive power; one half of the reason as to why you have it is to protect you and warn you about certain dangers.. to help a seasoned soul like yours navigate this life.

5. You are able to sense when something isn’t right with people.. this goes back point number 4. But sometimes you will get chills or feel like something isn’t right with certain people and you don’t know why. Even when others seem to gravitate towards that thing/person. You can see behind the veil very well.

6. An obvious one but getting warnings in dreams, having a strong connection with the dream realm and understanding the spiritual significance behind it.

7. Your friends/family let you know they’ve had dreams about you and you often know what they mean/what they’re referring to, and know to take it as a sign.

8. Another strange one.. not being able to sleep…not knowing why you can’t sleep sometimes for several days in a row and then you’re fine and able to sleep normally again. Sometimes the astral realm is murky. Spiritual warfare is real. And sometimes not entering different realms and dimensions full of energy harvesting, demons, malicious entities, means not being able to sleep that night. That’s your higher self and guides protecting you.

9. Getting chills/realisations reading this post ;)

That’s all folks

[suskz]

Hi there! Could write a Chan x reader. Reader went to a skz fansigning & got dared to give Chan a note and along with the note there was an attached hotel key card, asking him to meet her at a certain time and at first he was so hesitant about it but then when the reader waits for over an hour after the time stated on the note, she opens the hotel door ready to leave and there is chan 👀

pairing: Idol!Chan x Fan!Fem!Reader

t/w: fluff ; Chan is a tease and a flirt ; reader is delulu (even tho she says she isn’t).

w/c: around 1.3k

a/n: I’m not really sure about this. I practically wrote what you had already written. I wanted to extend the final part but it just didn’t come out right. Anyway, yours is a really great idea, I love it! I hope you still like this!

It's a stupid idea. It's ridiculous. And yet you're doing it anyway.

You know it's impossible for it to actually happen, but if you're doing it, it's because deep down —very deep down— inside you, there's a little hope.

“You got this, girl!” you hear from the other end of the phone. This only makes you more nervous and embarrassed about what you're doing. You're so damn delusional.

Your hand moves the pen faster across the paper as you mutter a 'shut up' to your friend, who sighs yet again at your harsh choice of words.

The click of the pen marks the end of your note.

You end the call, get up from the toilet, and leave the bathroom as if nothing happened —or will happen. You get back in line behind other people waiting to see their idols, preparing yourself for the humiliation.

But when you find yourself in front of him, you realise there's no way to prepare for the humiliation from something like this.

“Hello!” he greets you with a smile, wearing the wolf ear headband that one of the fans before you gave him.

“Hi.” Your voice is anxious, and he can tell.

You hand him the album you have in your hands, and he immediately opens it and starts signing it.

Your heart beats fast because you are in front of him, Bang Chan. Your idol, the man who has captured your heart more than anyone else. And the man who will soon want to run as far away from you as possible after opening your letter.

A card, a place, and a street. 'Let’s meet at 5pm tomorrow?' written with an uncertainty you never imagined you could experience.

You already prepare to laugh to brush away the embarrassment when he opens the letter. You start to consider whether to give it to him or not. You could spare yourself an embarrassing moment and continue living your life normally. Maybe that's better; fuck the dare, it's just a silly game.

“What’s your name?” Your thoughts are interrupted by his sweet voice as he looks up from the album, perhaps a little amused.

You feel your cheeks heat up as you realise you've been silently staring at him for too long. A few seconds, but it's already too much.

“Uh, Y/n.” You try to say with as much confidence as possible, but it doesn’t come out as you would have liked.

“How are you, Y/n?” He asks kindly.

“I’m good, thanks. A bit nervous, actually.” You admit, and he looks at you still smiling.

“Oh, you don’t need to be.” He reassures you.

"It’s just, I’m sitting in front of a God, you left me speechless." You try to sound as normal as possible. You've rehearsed what to say to him in advance, and you don't want your anxiety to prevent you from talking to him.

He opens his mouth to speak but immediately shuts it, taken by surprise. Now it’s him who’s speechless.

“That’s too sweet, thank you.” His smile widens, his eyes forming crescents and his dimples more visible than before, if possible.

"That's the truth though, you're much more handsome in person than I thought." you compliment him again.

You feel more relaxed now and manage to speak with him normally for the rest of the time.

It's when you have to move on to the next member and he greets you that you give him the letter.

"This is for you, I would appreciate it if you read it later."

And indeed, he remembers to read it at the end of the fan sign.

‘From Y/n’ he reads in his mind, opening it.

And he thinks you're crazy. Maybe a maniac. Delusional enough to do something like this thinking he would show up.

And he's ready to give it to the staff to throw it in the trash, but when someone behind him calls him, he's too taken aback to think properly and puts your letter in his pocket.

It's a stupid move, but he promises himself to throw it away later, in the dressing room.

Or a few hours later, at home. Or in his room, after reading it one last time. Or after reading it twice. Or three times.

For the first time, he takes out the key card and examines it in his hands. It's real, it's not a joke.

‘That’s crazy’, he realises. He can't show up, it would be stupid, it would be dangerous. It's the best thing to do, ignore it all.

And yet you are still waiting for him, dressed in the black leather skirt your friends chose for you. You glance at the clock and realise you've been sitting on the hotel room sofa for almost an hour.

You knew it was a stupid idea and that he would never show up. Actually, it would have been insane of Chan to do so. He probably thought you were a serial killer or something, or that you wanted to kidnap him.

You sigh. You get up from the sofa, grab your bag from where it’s placed on a chair, and head to the door.

When you open it, though, you quickly step back and almost throw your bag at the person standing in front of you. 

Your eyes widen when you realise who it is. 

"Uh… hello." He smiles awkwardly, scratching the nape of his neck.

He came.

A thought immediately flashes through your mind.

Now what?

When you sit on the sofa, after him, you are the first to speak, “I didn’t… think you would actually come.” You find the courage to look him in the eyes.

“I didn’t think I would come either, it was a last-minute decision,” he admits. “I don’t know what was going through my mind when I decided to come.” He chuckles slightly, and you smile.

“Is it because I seemed cute to you at the fan sign?” You tease him. Embarrassing. You realize too late that you shouldn’t have said it.

You’re lucky, though, because he plays along, “I couldn’t find the words to tell you after being called a God.” He teases back, a smirk forming on his lips.

You stay silent for a while, embarrassment spreading across your cheeks and making him chuckle.

“Can you blame me? You have me obsessed over your fancams, the way you move is amazing.”

“Oh, yeah?” He grins, “I’m honored to know that a pretty girl like you watches my fancams.” He says playfully.

Pretty?

“Oh shut up.” You say jokingly, rolling your eyes to hide the blush coloring your cheeks.

“I will, if it’s you who says so.” He says, looking into your eyes in a way that now seems more intense.

You swallow hard, not expecting such a response, trying to hold his gaze.

“If you don’t stop talking like that, I’ll be completely yours, Mr. Bang.” You find the confidence in his eyes to say these words.

He chuckles, “I’d like to see that.”

“You’re being too much of a tease.” You say in a pouty tone, looking away like a child who didn’t get their candy.

“Don’t you like me for that very reason?” He asks rhetorically, raising an eyebrow.

You turn your head back toward him and smile, “Yes, I like you for that too.”

And he knew that at the end of this evening, he would have to leave and pretend nothing happened.

And he knew it was wrong and he would regret it when he had to face the consequences, but he did it anyway.

“Should we exchange numbers?”

[joocomics]

lights off: part two (18+)

read part one here

pairing: oh seungmin x fem!reader

genre: smut, sprinkle of fluff wc: 4.8k

summary: a silly accident in the cafeteria brings you and seungmin together causing the memory of your one night stand to return after both of you spent weeks trying to forget about it

contains: sub!reader, college fuckboy!o.de, protected sex, explicit language, dirty talk, pet names, multiple orgasms, oral (f), overstimulation

a/n: please, keep in mind english is not my first language, i apologise in advance for any mistakes i’ve might missed

a/n 2: big thank you to my 🚀 anon for inspiring me to write this! more specifically with this ask about the hoodie <3

!! this is pure fiction for entertainment purposes

song rec: the boy is mine - ariana grande

“Are you good?”

You wince from the sudden voice startling you out of nowhere.

It’s Oh Seungmin. The realisation he just caught you scrubbing your white shirt like crazy as if it will make the stain disappear, in the middle of the cafeteria, brings you even bigger chills - chills of embarrassment; of frustration, anger even. From all people that could’ve walked by your table at this moment, why him?

You look down at your lap, composing yourself the best you can in order to answer calmly.

“I spilled coffee all over my shirt and now I will walk around like a stained loser the whole day. Yes, I’m fine.”

However, you sound far from fine, and Seungmin can’t help but smile amused at your frustrated scrunched lips.

He quickly changes his expression back to normal before you notice the grin, and drops his backpack on the chair across from you.

You’re too busy preparing all the dirty tissues for the trash so you miss the moment when he takes off his jacket, and his hoodie next. He holds it in his hands until you decide to look up at him.

“Here, put this on.”

His hands rub against his chest to prevent his white tee from creases, and you stare at him for a moment while he’s not paying attention.

After you stand up to put on the clothing a deja vu which you’re definitely not prepared for washes over you. You look at the front of the hoodie realising by the letters that it’s the same one he gave you the day you worked on your group project during Christmas break.

When you were at his place for the very first time, and when the power went off… and one thing led to another.

The memories make your head spin.

“I have to stop stealing your hoodie like this.” You attempt a joke, but you’re unsure if it is a successful one.

“Actually,” Seungmin’s voice comes out contemplative as he checks you out, but suddenly turns cheeky, “I think you wear it better.”

You shift your gaze at him just when somebody tries to walk past both of you. Seungmin takes a step closer in order to make space so the guy can continue his way which cuts the distance between you and him drastically. The cafeteria becomes crowded around this hour of the day.

Your eyes meet and you feel your stomach swirl from too many emotions clashing together. The familiar warmth and scent of the hoodie, the memories it holds from your time together during the heavy storm, the sudden closeness of your bodies. The new way he looks at you.

You step back, clearing your throat.

“Me and the other fifty girls you say this to.”

Seungmin laughs dryly, looking away in the distance.

“Anyways, I will return it soon.” Your fingers unintentionally tug at the sleeves. It’s like you create new habits every time you wear it. “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He grabs his jacket from the chair, hanging it over his arm. “You can keep it, looks good on you.”

You don’t know what more to say; if you should even say anything at all.

You haven’t seen each other after you had sex; not properly like a date, just in class. Not that you’re expecting one. Everyone knows Seungmin doesn’t date. You’re not a fool to think you’re going to be his first exception. But you haven’t even texted each other about anything that doesn’t revolve around your shared classes, and you start to find it odd.

A part of you expected him to ask you to come over at his place again, but he hasn’t done that yet. You keep overthinking it, which you shouldn’t, but you do regardless - mostly because you want to know the reason why. Didn’t he enjoy it? Was it bad, boring? It didn’t seem like it was, at least to you. You’re aware there are many girls who are more exciting, better, but still… why is he treating you differently than the rest? Isn’t that what fuckboys do? Messing around with as many girls as they can?

Maybe it’s better this way. You don’t need the trouble and the gossip that come inevitably with his reputation anyway.

“I have to go to class, but I hope to see you again soon.” Seungmin speaks and his brown eyes search for yours just like they did last time he was with you. “Not for the hoodie.”

Your lips curve in a shy smile and he turns around, heading towards the door. Just before he exits, a girl you’ve never seen before appears from somewhere, holding a drink in hand. She taps him on the shoulder, and he greets her with one of his popular charming smiles. They exchange a few words before walking out of the cafeteria together. You can’t read lips, but you have a slight idea of what they might have said to each other.

On Friday the only interaction you have with Seungmin during your shared class is a few stolen glances.

Since the group projects ended everyone is back to sitting on their usual seats, including you and him - you’re still on the second row meanwhile he returned to sit way back like he’s always preferred.

When the professor ends the lecture and the class is dismissed, you leave right away without looking in his direction, because you have a lunch date with your friend that you don’t want to be late for, but also because you don’t expect anything to be different today.

Except something changes.

As you wait for your order to arrive your phone lights up with a notification and you see his name appear on your screen.

13:21 [Oh Seungmin] I almost didn’t recognise you without my hoodie

13:21 [Y/N] I only wear it for emergencies

13:21 [Oh Seungmin] Haha

13:22 [Oh Seungmin] You look pretty in your outfit today

13:22 [Oh Seungmin] But I miss seeing my hoodie on your body already

13:23 [Y/N] Thank you :)

13:23 [Y/N] I will give it back to you soon

13:23 [Y/N] Today I forgot to take it with me, I was in a hurry

13:24 [Oh Seungmin] Will I see you wearing it one last time?

You’re not sure what to reply.

Your brain suddenly freezes and your thumbs hover over the keyboard not knowing which letters to press. The more seconds pass, the more you feel stupid for taking time to respond.

13:26 [Oh Seungmin] Or I can at least get a picture for saving you the embarrassment of walking around with a stained shirt 😉

16:55 [Y/N sends attachment]

17:00 [Oh Seungmin] You turn me on so fuckin’ bad

“It’s been a while. Thought you’ve decided to keep it for yourself.”

“I’m just busy with work and finals, but today I have some free time.” You explain then glance down at the porcelain cup between your palms. “One girl already accused me of stealing her boyfriend’s clothes so I would prefer to give it back to you as soon as possible.”

Seungmin takes a sip of his drink, not looking away from your ironic smile as you eventually shift your gaze somewhere behind his shoulder.

“Just say you wanted to see me.” His lips curl playfully when you immediately lock eyes with him after hearing his words. “You don’t have to make up stories.”

“I’m not lying. I’m sure you know who I’m talking about.”

He leans back in his chair, tapping with the tip of his fingers on the table.

“Hm, I don’t.” He admits after releasing a sigh, pretending to care that he’s having a hard time figuring out which girl could it be. “You know I don’t date.” He states and you nod.

You can’t help but feel like he uses the good opportunity to say this just as a reminder to you.

You chat for a while when he eventually leans closer looking directly into your eyes. He loves the glow your cheeks earn every time he succeeds to hold eye contact with you for more than one second.

“Do you want to come over?”

“Now?”

“Now.”

He repeats the word firmly, almost like a command, but you know he’s not that type of person. He just seems to be in need of something. More of your presence.

“I can’t wait any longer, Y/N.” Seungmin’s gaze lowers on your lips and he sees you swallow as a reaction to his confession.

He observes your features closely, feeling his skin run hot from the images they remind him of - when you let him kiss you everywhere he wanted that day.

He really tried not to think about what happened, about you, and he still is.

But he’s failing.

Every time he hooks up with another girl he realises that he’s not fulfilled as he used to be after she’s gone. His mind goes straight back to you reminding him how much better it could be.

The crazy part is that last time he invited a girl over his brain didn’t even wait for her to leave, it started distracting him in the middle of sex while he was inside her. With every new image of you that appeared in his head the girl underneath him became more and more unsatisfying; boring. She overreacted with her moans; the way she pulled his hair irritated him. He continued to notice little things like that until he flipped her over, shut his eyes and blocked out all the noise in order to focus on his thoughts about you so he can cum as soon as possible.

That’s when he realised it’s no use for him to keep denying it - he needs to feel you again. His body craves it.

It’s frustrating, because you’re not the type of girl who guys like him deserve. He knows you’re thinking he’s just like the rest, and you’re right.

But the desire is bigger than him.

“What are you waiting for?” You ask; your voice is low, because you’re flustered to show your neediness, but loud enough for Seungmin to hear it and smirk.

Walking into this living room again feels almost like a dream.

Seungmin doesn’t give you any time to look around and see if anything has changed since you were last here, because he immediately pins you against the wall.

He doesn’t want to waste a second more, and his lips smash against yours. They manage to move with gentleness despite his impatience that almost hypnotises you.

Your knees already go weak; it’s just one longer lasting kiss, but his mouth feels so good, experienced and soft. He pulls back as his hands roam around your hips area, then leans in back again.

This time the kiss is different; eager and rough. It quickly forces a muffled moan from your throat which makes Seungmin’s hands instantly react by gripping your ass.

Something switched on in him, and the situation starts to unfold much faster.

He swiftly picks you up without breaking the ongoing kiss and you hang arms over his shoulders while he walks towards the kitchen countertop. It’s the nearest surface he can place you on.

In a matter of seconds the shirt you were wearing flies to the ground with your bra getting your bare skin covered in goosebumps. Shivers go down your spine as Seungmin’s soft lips press against the side of your neck, nibbling on your flesh so hungrily you know you’re going to go home with a purple mark. His hands cup your boobs, massaging both of them as his tongue rubs against you, provoking sighs of bliss from your mouth.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you…” Seungmin speaks out for the first time since you got here. Kissing the sensitive spot behind your ear. “About what happened between us.”

His mouth moves to your collarbone, then even lower, making you lean backwards. Your elbows touch the cold counter.

“Did I make you feel good, sweetheart?” He gives your nipple an open mouthed kiss and your lips part from the nice thrill.

“God—“ You moan as he sucks on it while holding your boob in his hand; he repeats the same thing one more time before circling around the nipple with the tip of his tongue. “Yeah… you did...”

He’s never cared about what girls think of the way he performs in bed. Nobody fucks me like you do. You’re the best I’ve ever had. It feels different with you. Those are things he’s heard many times before, because for some reason they think it’s something he needs to hear, but he doesn’t; he just needs to get laid.

“Has someone ever fucked you like that before?”

You start to sense the wetness between your thighs; the quick way it builds up while he speaks makes you feel a bit embarrassed, but more than that - greedy.

“You already know the answer to that.”

Your fingers reach for his belt and the boldness of it surprises both of you.

Seungmin smiles seductively after shooting a look at your hands that are now busy with undoing it eagerly.

“I want to hear you say it.”

His jeans are now unzipped and you take a peek at his slightly revealed boxers. The temptation to sneak your hand and palm his boner lingers in your mind.

Seungmin’s hands rest on your thighs as he tries to analyse your facial expressions one after another.

“No,” you admit the obvious. By overcoming your nerves you guide one hand to his crotch, inviting your fingers. “Nobody has ever fucked me like you before.”

You both look at each other as you slowly palm his clothed erection. Feeling how hard he is excites you so much to the point you shamelessly bite your lip without even realising it.

“You want it?” He asks and the change in his voice is so clear.

You squeeze him lightly and nod in response at the same time.

“Needy.” Seungmin notes, but what he actually means is that he likes how this new confidence looks on you.

He gets rid of his pants, but leaves his underwear on, wanting to see you deal with it yourself.

You tug the clothing down and his erection enters your vision. Wrapping your hand around him makes Seungmin’s head drop back on the instant before he humms from the feeling of your tightening grip.

This is the first time you do something on your own for his pleasure and your heart starts racing from excitement.

You twist your fist in a nice steady pace and not long after his forehead touches yours as you spread the precum from his flushed tip along the stiff length.

His body melts with each stroke you make, succumbing more and more to your touch.

You listen to his heavy breaths and as a reaction your hand increases the pace. You start stroking him quicker and the fact he takes just one second to moan from the new speed pleases you like nothing before has.

“Fuck…” He breathes out quickly, not opening his eyes. “You’re good.”

“Thank you,” you mewl and Seungmin releases a small airy chuckle before biting his lower lip. “Should I keep going?” Your hand slows down as you wait for an answer, and the thrill of it causes his smirk to fade. “Do you want more?”

Seungmin’s mind turns more foggy which makes it difficult for him to comprehend why these questions make his skin feel so hot; why do they sound so charming when you speak them out and look down at his dick.

Your eyes focus with anticipation on his parted lips that are seconds away from kissing you. He ends up not saying anything, because the fact he cannot stand the distance from your faces already proves enough.

He lets his dominant tongue dart in your mouth until the words escape him on their own.

“I want all of you,” he murmurs as you exhale into his mouth. The continuous gliding of your hand around him makes his stomach clench underneath his clothes, and suddenly he pulls back so you can get off the counter.

Once you remove the rest of your clothes, Seungmin takes you to the bedroom and watches you lay down on his bed. His gaze trails down your naked figure, and so does yours as he strips.

You don’t try to hide it anymore.

His hands travel up your thighs and the sides of your hips as he makes his way down your body. His tongue drags along your stomach before a few kisses under your belly button make you moan softly.

He would’ve enjoyed teasing you through your wet underwear if only he wasn’t so impatient right now. He quickly removes your pair of panties and dives into your pussy; something that crosses his mind too often when he sits on his couch.

The sudden contact makes you gasp, because it’s completely different in comparison to the gentle, slow touch of his lips from last time. You can feel his desire in the new way his mouth moves, pressing further into you; stimulating you fully to the point you already start to squirm.

“Oh, fuck—“ you bury fingers into his hair and hiss while tugging on a few strands the moment his soft lips suck on your clit. “Fuck, Seungmin…” His name slips weakly from your mouth that you can’t keep closed from too much panting.

One of his long fingers enters you smoothly and just as easy gets swallowed by your tight walls on the instant, which makes the sensation even better. You feel him push it back and forth in addition to his tongue that plays with your clit for a moment till he goes back to making out with your slick folds.

You’re not going to last long; the knot in your warm core begins to pulse.

“You just keep getting sweeter, baby.”

You whine as your lower body jerks up from the motions of his tongue; from his compliments that force your arousal to grow bigger. Your moans multiple once you realise it feels even more amazing when you sway your hips in circles, rubbing yourself against his dripping mouth.

“Seungmin… f-fuck, I’m so close—”

“Good, baby,” his soothing voice speaks again as he adjusts, “I want you to cum on my mouth again, okay?”

Seungmin’s arms hug your thighs, keeping them in control, and his flat tongue resumes to devouring your slit which gets you closer to your peak rapidly. You’ve spent many hours reminiscing of the unbelievable orgasm he gave you the day the power went off, but even all of that time of you replaying the moment over and over again couldn’t have prepared you for the wave that shoots right through you at this very second.

His strong grip prevents your legs from closing as Seungmin works his tongue on your sensitive spot, waiting for the thrill to cool down in your trembling body; your whimpers gradually fade in the air too.

“Good girl,” he places a wet kiss on your inner thigh.

You open your unfocused eyes just when he’s about to push back his middle finger, but along with his index one. You didn’t expect it so soon, but your pool of arousal welcomes them; it drips and fills the room with lewd squelching noise as he thrusts deeply a few times so you can hear yourself.

He doesn’t even have the ability to say something about this, he’s in awe as he pulls them out in a teasing speed, observing you clench desperately for more.

His sticky fingers grab a condom, then reach for your face as he settles between your legs, his knees dip in the mattress as he gets comfortable.

You part your lips excitedly, because you wanted to do this the moment he emptied you.

“Yeah, suck them, gorgeous.”

Seeing you get drunk on your own essence makes the lust in Seungmin’s heavy gaze glow brighter which results into you not wanting to look away. You taste his glistening digits with your lips closed around them before he tells you to spit in his palm.

Your saliva coats the protection, and at once, you feel the overwhelming feeling of Seungmin’s cock inside it, making you extra wide and warm. The light sweet pain comes through as he slides it in all the way, but goes away quickly when he begins to glide back and forth, letting out a deep groan from the immediate pleasure.

“Holy shit,” he cusses under his breath as he bottoms out, observing you take him with ease.

The delightful sense of relief starts to flow through your veins as his hips pick up the pace, growing the arousing rush in your core too.

Smacking sound from skin on skin echoes in the silent room, overpowering your quiet soft whimpers, because of the fast way Seungmin forces his body into moving quicker.

“God, you’re still so tight…”

He forgot how tight you actually feel, how drenched you become, and how easily you turn fucked out underneath him; or is he just too turned on and everything just seems much more intense than before?

His skin begins to sweat as his lower region simultaneously warms up from the amazing feeling that your connected bodies form. The heat grows rapidly, and he almost loses control, but pulls out in time.

Some of his hair falls into his vision as his fist cautiously strokes his cock that throbs so close to cumming.

You both pant aroused when he turns both your legs to one side, keeping them bent as he slides back into you.

This new angle turns your soft sounds into clear moaning with the way his tip pokes at your cervix even better.

“Do you realise how fuckin’ good you feel around me?” He catches your lightheaded gaze, but you can’t maintain the eye contact for long, because everything takes too much effort for you right now. “How hot you look when you take it…”

Your fingers grip the sheets as Seungmin continues his steady pace while holding onto your hip. He can feel your walls wrapping him more tightly and that provokes him into going for rushed stronger thrusts.

It’s like you pulse harder with every word he says.

“Squeezing me so well…” he mutters, roaming his hand over your ass. He spreads your cheeks, digging his fingertips into your flesh, and as he’s squishing you, his face becomes scrunched with desperation you haven’t seen on him before; on any guy you’ve been with really. “Fuck—“

“You can c-cum,” you speak up as your voice slightly shakes, “I’m close too…”

There’s a pleading note not only in your tone, but also in your dazed eyes that look up at him as the slamming of his body against yours becomes sloppier. He wants to last some more, but your clenching overwhelms him so much… despite it slowing him down, he still gathers all of his energy to keep up the intense strength of his thrusts.

“I can—“

“Please, p-please,” you cut him off, but immediately after you go silent, grasping his arm instead. Your nails leave an accidental scratch on his skin from the rushed movement, but you can’t help it; you lose all sense of control, and Seungmin a moment after you.

The last thing he sees before throwing his head back is the way your eyes roll back from the sensation hitting its final peak. His jaw falls open the minute he shoots his cum into the condom meanwhile his throat lets out a long deep groan.

The thrill flowing in his veins is striking; as if he finally gets a piece of something he’s been waiting for forever. For a while he just stays there, gliding slowly through your sensitive walls to get both of you back to reality before guiding your legs apart again.

As you try to catch your breath Seungmin leans forward, prepping on his two hands. Your lips are centimetres apart and it brings a flush to your face; it feels different when you’re this close without any clothes on, after you both came, and now you’re just holding onto him, keeping him warm inside you.

You kiss him back, placing your hands on his wide shoulders.

A muffled whine escapes your lips when he pushes himself into you deeply after pulling out almost all the way. The sound of your repressed sound brings a certain delight to his core, and he already wants to hear it again so he guides the fingers of his one hand down to your clit and puts some pressure with gentle circles.

The feeling of the slight overstimulation is not any less exciting for both of you.

Seungmin repeats the same move with his hips. You whimper into his mouth in sync with each sloppy thrust, causing his mind to turn foggy; the wet noise from your arousal becomes more clear as the seconds pass by, they almost echo into his head, making him dizzy. All he can think about is the two of you cumming again, having you chant his name, and nothing else.

“Fuck—“ he pants after braking the kiss, leaving your lips puffy and reddish. “Fuck, I can’t s-stop…”

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t stop, keep going.”

Seungmin groans just from the tempting sound of your encouragement then hides his face in the crook of your neck. Even the way your fingers dip into his hair adds to his new wave of arousal.

After swiftly adjusting your hips higher he resumes the motions of his cock, but much quicker. He’s not teasing you slowly, anymore, he’s now eagerly aiming for your sweet spot to force another orgasm as soon as possible.

The stimulating effect starts seeping through your bodies, creating a burning knot in your tummies.

“Fuck, I needed this…” He says in one breath as his lips brush against your warm skin. The sounds of pleasure he makes start to flow more frequently; the intense groans noticeably evolve into whines that stick to your neck as he goes on. “Needed you s-so bad.”

“Then why did you wait?” You decide to ask for your surprise. Perhaps, you may regret this later, but for now, you’re not able to think straight. “Why now?”

Seungmin shifts to quickly take your wrists and pin them above your head. Your eyes widen a bit before you search for an answer in his darkened gaze, because you have a feeling that he’s not going to give you one.

His cock slows down the pace, and you already know there’s a possibility of you having to beg him to speed up soon, because you can’t put up with this.

“Haven’t I fucked you enough?” The corners of his lips curl up cunningly. “How are you still able to ask questions?”

You start to rock your hips as your heavy eyelids start to shut.

He chuckles at your needy actions, but then his own body betrays him by not being able to resist you at all.

He groans frustratedly after he begins to pound against you with full force. His hands grip your wrists in place while your legs stay wide open letting him chase your highs.

Every thrust Seungmin makes gives results exactly where you need it as if he somehow knows all your weak points already, and thanks to your crying voice in the bedroom, he can sense that too.

“Gonna m-make me c-cum… fuck, baby—“

You’re not able to tell if Seungmin says anything else. It’s like your mind melts the moment the warm fuzzy feeling in your stomach snaps. You tighten intensely around him, squeezing him hard as he throbs ready to release the pressure.

And that’s what he does after you let out another chain of wails while convulsing under his weight. You’re shaking, but he successfully tightens his grips despite his own body being overwhelmed by the ecstatic explosion of emotions too.

After slowly pulling out and removing the condom Seungmin collapses next to you and you both listen to each other trying to catch your breaths.

“I tried not to think about what happened.” He suddenly breaks the silence. “I tried to forget about you.”

You know the feeling; you tried to do the same thing, however, it still brings an unpleasant feeling in the pit of your stomach from hearing him actually say it.

You’re about to comment when he tilts his head in your direction.

“But I realised that I don’t want that.”

“What is it that you want?” You ask quietly, unsure where this is going.

He moves his gaze from you towards the ceiling. It makes it easier to say it this way.

“I want to ask you out.”

Your lips part in surprise.

You notice that he keeps crossing his fingers, moving them around on top of his chest. Is he nervous?

You look up at the ceiling too, not able to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

“… out on a date,” he feels the need to add, still avoiding your eyes which brings an amused smile to your face.

It’s obvious he lacks experience when it comes to this.

“Okay, Oh Seungmin.” You speak up at once. “I will go on a date with you.”

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

[issdisgrace]

i wanna hear more abt logan being called mommy… hes like such this basic american man i wanna see him get feminized!!

LOGAN SARGEANT FEMINIZATION HCS

WARNINGS: Feminization, and all the stuff that comes with that so if you don’t like it, don’t read

So like i said in my initial post Logan loves to be called mommy because it makes him feel so fucking hot and so fucking sexy but i don't think it's the only title/thing Logan likes to be called. I think he would also be very receptive to being called princess and pretty girl. Like he would absolutely melt into a puddle when you call him those things. Bonus if you call him your pretty princess, cause like he's dead, deceased, gone and went to heaven.

Anygay onto my next thought. I think he loves to get all dressed up pretty for you like lingerie, dress, heels, makeup, nails, wig. And let me tell you he looks fucking gorgeous in it. He's the prettiest girl in the whole world and you make sure he KNOWS that. Which makes him kinda shy and blushy but it's so fucking cute that you can't help but continue to praise him and worship.

He also loves to be fucked when he's all pretty for you because he loves seeing the aftermath. Like makeup ruined, wig messed up, dress and lingerie ripped, hanging off his body. He feels like a fucking slut when he's like that and he absolute loves that feeling.

Another thing I think he likes is when you make fun of his dick. Calling it his clit and his hole his pussy. Ugh, it gets that man painfully hard when you call them that.

I don't think humiliation is the only thing he's into. I think he also very much likes manhandling, breeding, hair pulling, spanking, orgasm control. There is something about these that, when done makes him feel very feminine. Especially if they're done in a short time of one another.

Also, think he genuinely has very girly moans and whimpers so he doesn't even have to play them up. He's also VERY loud so you will probably be getting noise complaints if you live in an apartment or getting it on at hotel. But you can deal with all the complaints because why would you want to quiet your pretty girl? His noises are so fucking hot and it also embarrasses him when you get a complaint. And he looks so fucking cute all embarrassed because he can't help that he's loud.

Another thing he can't help is how dirty he feels when you have him wear panties under his clothes when he goes out. Like you have him run errands with them on and it's so dirty because no one knows just the two of you and that gets him a little hard.

Also don't get me started on having him wearing panties under his racing gear. He's practically cumming in his panties because now he has to interact with so many people and pretend everything is completely normal like he doesn't have the sluttiest panties on under his gear.

But everything is worth the treat he gets when you guys get back to your hotel. But that's something we can talk about another time if you guys want to hear about it.

[yanderepalace]

Yandere!Michael Myers (1978) Sweets Prompts

warnings: violence, stalking

a/n: hi everyone :,) been a while. hope you enjoy!

♥ KitKat - What do they do to break their Darling?

With Myers always on your tail, you constantly find yourself surrounded by death and violence wherever you go, talking to someone and wondering if this is the last chance you’ll ever see them before he gets to them. If that doesn’t break you all on its own, I don’t know what will.

♥ Mochi - Do they believe in punishing their Darling?

Maybe not you specifically, but Michael does take it out on those around you.. friends, family, strangers. As psychologically distressing as this can be, it might as well be a punishment for you.

♥ Daifuku - Are they predictable for their Darling, or are they able to surprise them with their behavior even after a long time?

This is a very obvious yes; not even the best doctors in the state could get a single glimpse into his mind or motivations, so you don’t have much of a chance. You might as well just hold on for the ride!

♥ Dango - Do they prefer manipulation over a long time, or quick actions?

Quick actions is Myers forte! He’s all about stabs and grabs, baby!

♥ Dorayaki - Any regrets when they look at their Darling, or do they stay focused on their obsession?

He will rarely regret any of his actions. He's very calculated and if he acted out on it, he already knew what he wanted.

♥ Omiyage - Would they consider bribing their Darling into the shape they envision?

Considering how he doesn’t really talk much, there won’t be much “bribing” going on between you two.

♥ Taiyaki - How fast are their intentions revealed to their Darling?

Honestly, to this very day, you have no idea what he really wants with you; all you know is that he’s in your life now.. or at least what’s left of it.

♥ Poki - Would they be more of a one darling-kind of yandere or want/need many at the same time?

The first time he set his eyes on you, he knew he’d never think of someone the same way again— it's either you or nobody.

♥ Warabimochi - What kind of yandere are they? Do they have some sub-types they fit into?

Michael Myers would be your personal stalker for at least a while before he ever came close. Other categories he could fall into are obsessive, and delusional type.

♥ Senbei - How willing are they do share their Darling with someone?

He would take out any rivals before they even thought about it.

♥ Candy Kits - Do they want/plan to build a normal future with their Darling?

Somewhere deep in his twisted mind, he envisions a normal-ish future (to him at least). He thinks about his mom and dad, or even Judy and her boyfriend, and sees you two becoming a couple like them eventually.

♥ Matcha Infused Sweets - Do they forgive escape attempts and ‘tantrums’ or do they stay bitter about it?

He doesn’t feel any particular way. He just sees it as a silly thing you do and just drags you back like it’s the most normal thing.

♥ Manjuu - What matters most to them in their mind when they obsess over their Darling? Love, Protection, Possession?

Not even he knows entirely, maybe it’s love, or maybe his love is possession. All he knows is that it feels good to look at you, to feel you, to have you.

And he’s not letting that get away from him.

a/n: sorry for the super long hiatus but I miss writing so much so here I am! I might make a little post explaining a bit about why I left and the future of this blog. If you’re reading this right now, I really appreciate you for still being here <3