#I think these conversations need to begin in every breed club right now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

0mrs-evans0 · 3 years

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Ok but, dark!Andy Barber getting the reader who wants to break up with him pregnant so she can't leave him.

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐲

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: ~2k

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Andy won’t just let you go. Not without a fight.

𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: Dark!Andy Barber x Younger!Fem!Reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dub-con (just to be safe); this is a DARK fic; explicit sexual content; explicit language; age gap (reader is in her twenties); unprotected sex; breeding kink; bondage; possessive behaviour; pussy spanking (not described); marking; (let me know if I forgot anything)

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞: 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

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𝐀/𝐧: Thank you so much for your request! I’m a hoe for Dark!Andy with breeding kink😏 Also, English is not my foreign language - so sorry for any mistakes!!

Reblogs and feedback would be great! I’d like to keep writing, so hopefully, you guys enjoy this (which let me know if you do)!

(badly checked; all mistakes are mine)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! The warning is given, you are responsible for what you read

𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲!!

Andy wanted nothing more than just to cuddle with you all night long after his exhausting day at work. He had enough with dealing with this fucking prick Neal. He was annoying Andy all week so he deserved a little treat after that.

You and Andy have been together for two years now. After a bad divorce with Laurie, he required some kind of break. His life was falling apart right in front of his eyes and he couldn’t do anything about it. Then, you came his way and Andy felt young again. You were the only good thing that happened to him for so long.

For some time, you noticed a weird change in his behaviour. He got really jealous. You appreciated this at the beginning, but then Andy started being more and more possessive. Toxic in some kind of way. It was a little too much for you. This dress is intended only for my eyes, honey. It’s too short to just go out to the club. I don’t want anyone other than myself to look at my woman, sweet pie.

Even then, you were considering your break-up. But he promised to change and of course - you believed him. He was you sweet Andy after all. However, nothing was modified. Things got even worse. He didn’t want you to hang out without him, indeed Jenny. Then, talks about settling down also began. The damn ring was the last straw that breaks the camel's back.

All he needed, was to spend some time with his sweet little girl. Andy got out of his car and made his way to your shared house. The characteristic smell of your perfume was floating all over the room. He couldn’t wait to already be in your warm arms. The man took off his coat and suddenly he was frozen in one place.

Your voice wasn’t calm as normally, you had rapid breathing and was speaking way too quickly. “I don’t know what to do, Jenny!” Andy knew that you were nervous right then. He had weird feelings about the conversation with your best friend. “I found a hidden ring in a wardrobe.” Andy thought he tucked it well enough. “I don’t need a husband now. I’ve just graduated the college.” You took a deep breath.

He couldn’t believe you wanted to break things off with him. He thought everything was on a perfect way to the marriage, not a break-up. “He’s a family type of guy. I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of attachment to anyone right now.” Andy suspected that you were at the thin edge from crying. “I’m gonna talk to him as soon as he comes back from work.” He came closer to the living room when you were sitting on the couch. You bought it together. “I love you too, Jenny.”

When he was sure you hang up, Andy made his way right to you. An angry expression on his handsome face. You’ve already known that he heard every single word that came up your mouth. You truly were screwed. “Andy!” Your voice was shocked and surprised.

“Did I understand right?” He came even closer to your scared self. “You want to break up with me, sweetheart?”

“Andy, please…” You tried to find the right words to not hurt him more. You loved him, you really did. But you weren’t ready to make everything so curious. The ring you found - only worsen the already bad situation. “I’ve just graduated! I wanna live, have fun!”

His hand started to get closer and closer to your neck. He grabbed you slightly and put you up to your legs. His body was curling over yours, gathering you in his strong arms. “I have bad news for you, honey.” The man whispered right into your ear. “That’s not happening.” Andy’s fingers thrilled over the neckline of your top. You had nowhere to go, but you had to admit that he so close to you was doing something to you. Your pussy was getting wetter within a few seconds just because of his presence and hungry touch.

“You’ve got nowhere to go.” He reminded you. A cruel smirk on his handsome face. “But I have to admit it’s cute that you still think you can just run away from me.”

------------------------

After a few more minutes, Andy brought you to the master bedroom. Your wrists were bound to the headboard by the tie he was wearing to work that day. You were a little scared, a bondage wasn’t a kink any of you talked about in the whole relationship. You weren’t able to move, much less to free yourself. You were lying naked at his mercy. He could do whatever he wanted at that time.

Andy was on the top of your body, couldn't help himself but admire your precious body. “You’ve got me hard as a fucking rock.” He grunted right into your ear. His breath warming your cheek, one of Andy’s hands sliding up the bare body of your stomach, then your torso and finally - he was cupping your breast. Shivers ran all over you. He knew your body better than anyone, including you, did.

It was quiet for a few moments, Andy enjoyed the view spreading before him. You fluttered closed your eyes and stayed that way until the man started touching your cheek softly with the thumb of his finger. “I want you to look at me when I’m making you feel good, sweetheart.” His voice was quiet, all he wanted right then, was to let you forget about everything bad and for you to focus on the pleasure.

You didn’t say a word. It wasn’t how you imagined that day. You wanted to have an honest conversation with Andy, pack all of your stuff and move on. You loved him, but the pressure you felt was overwhelming and you didn’t think you could take it. But your boyfriend didn’t give up. He wanted all of you and you knew that he would do everything to have it. One way or another.

Andy got off of you to undress. Your watchful eye marvelled at his posture. Broad shoulders, massive arms and this happy trails of hair a little above his boxers. He was stunning. The man from the real dreams of yours. Then why not everything was so perfect?

The man lied over you, his starving hands all over you - touching every piece he could reach. Even though you weren’t sure if you really wanted that, your body spoke for yourself. You acted like a cat, rubbing up himself, weren’t able to stop any of that, just needing to have all of his undivided attention. And of course, he gave you that.

“You wanted to take this from me?” Andy grunted. He gave your pussy a few spanks. Your moanings got louder with every. “I’m gonna show you all of the things you would miss. You’re such a bad girl sometimes…” You felt the wetness running down your tighs. You knew that he had a big power over you but did not think it was so bad. “Darling…” Andy kissed one of your cheeks. You could feel the growing length on your stomach. “I think, I should draw consequences from your unimaginable behaviour.”

The urgent need to be filled and stretched and fucked within an inch of your life was enormous. Andy’s gaze took its time drinking you in, he was salivating - you were so damn beautiful. He couldn’t let you run away. You were his. Your eyes were fixed on the reveal of that glorious cock of his. It was the biggest you ever had in your whole life.

Andy took his cock in one hand and before he entered you, he gave it a few strikes and tugs as he stared down at your wet, clenching hole, mesmerized. His length grew even bigger when he kissed you so deeply and thoroughly you whimpered into his hot mouth. He spread your lower lips apart and he eased the head of his cock inside of you. The feel of stretch was amazing. You whimpered loudly, only adding to Andy’s pleasure. Your sweet sounds were the best thing in sex with you.

Groaning, Andy pushed further into your aching hole. You were gasping for air again as he rolled his hips, giving a hard rut. His cock was as deep as he could go. It's where you belonged. There wasn’t a better place - you both in one bad. Perfect. “Not so eager to run away now, huh?” He teased. One of his hands made your way to your neck - grabbing it gently but enough for you to feel the pressure from this touch. “You just needed a cock to be reminded that you can’t live without me, sweetheart.”

The hand that was capping your neck, went down to pinch your hardened nipple. You were a groaning, mindless mess for him. Just for him. “Please, please, please.” Your words repeated like a mantra. You needed a fulfil. Couldn’t survive without it that time.

You dropped your head to the sheets with a loud moan, he buried his mouth against your neck and pressed a few love bits to your sensitive skin. You knew perfectly well, that all he wanted was to mark you. “You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart.” His approval words were like a perfect solution for all of your, even the biggest, problems.

You could hear just how bad soaked you were for him. The wetness drenching the sheets. ”You always feel so fucking good.” Some inhuman noises felt from his lips. You’re both were incredibly close to an end. Just a few final pumps of his hips. Sweat was coating your body as you spread your legs even wider. Andy knew your body so well. Knew just how and where to touch you to make you see stars.

Your orgasm was building and building. The man’s finger started teasing your clit. And that’s when it snapped. You cum with a high pitched sound, body convulsing with the force of your pleasure. You clenched around his length. You could feel that his ending was near. “Don’t cum inside of me! I’ve missed some pills.” But Andy didn’t have any of that.

You tried to move but couldn’t do anything with your wrists tied. Then, Andy lost that. You felt the warm rush of his cum flooding your still fluttering cunt. Tears appeared in your eyes. He did that. He cum inside, even though you told him to pull out. He sagged against your belly with a satisfied groan, kissing it lightly.

It was quiet for a few moments, as both you and Andy were catching your breaths. He leaned closer to you, so he could see your face. You felt broken. The man wiped the tears from your cheeks and kissed a loving kiss to them then. You closed your weeping eyes, when Andy reached above your weak body and started to untie your wrist. After that, he took both of them, rubbed and left kisses along your fragile skin.

You felt Andy's arm curl around your belly and tug your body closer to his. “I’m sorry it had to happen this way.” He pressed his lips to your sweaty forehead. “But I couldn’t let you run away from me. Now we can be a real family.”

You felt more tears filling your tender eyes. That’s not how you imagined your future.

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junisfics · 4 years

Text

All This Time — Armin Arlert (4)

series masterlist

Pairing: Armin Arlert x Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Series Summary: Reader messages her best friend Armin late one night while she's drunk and needy, but will she remember the things she said to him in the morning, and if she does... will she regret it?

Party Summary: The morning after causes a temporary scare, but once Armin realizes he actually has you… he refuses to stay away

Content: Fluff, Smut / Nsfw 18 +

Content Warnings: Unprotected Sex, Very Slight Choking, Creampie (No Breeding)

You awake with an arm wrapped around your waist, and it’s not yours. It’s Armin’s, and this time you know it’s his, you know that body that’s pressed up against your back and you know the legs that are intertwined with yours.

He’s warm against you, and there’s an overwhelming feeling that washes over you that you can only describe as content.

You could hear him softly breathing, his face nestled into the back crook of your neck. His left arm is draped over your waist and snaked under your shirt so his palm rests against your stomach. His other arm must be curled up between the two of you because it’s nowhere in your sight.

You don’t feel the need to move for quite some time, just laying with him with your eyes closed and face nuzzling into the pillow. You feel his chest rise and fall steadily behind you, and you try and match your breaths to his. But Armin’s are too slow, too even, and you can’t do it.

You savor his warmth and his touch for a while longer before growing apt for food and water. So, when the sun just begins to set down the horizon, you slip out of his arms, out of your bed, and bring yourself to the floor and towards the kitchen.

You estimate that the two of you laid there for at least a few hours given the sight of dusk. Armin came over in the early afternoon and depending on how long… that… lasted determines how long the two of you slept.

You try your best to remain quiet as you shuffle about the kitchen, getting yourself a glass of water and opening the pantry for cleaning supplies to attempt to clean the mess of baking goods you had spilled about the floor earlier.

You smile at the domesticity of the whole thing. Armin’s been in your home before, he’s been in your room before and he’s had dinner with you before; but it was all different now. It felt better like this, him sleeping in your bed as a lover as you clean the kitchen.

Armin felt like home, is what you realize. That him being here, was him fitting himself in as the final piece of the puzzle. His little puzzle piece was always there, it was always existent, but somehow it had found itself lost under the table and tucked away in a corner. You’d been the one to drop it, but Armin had been the one who had placed himself in a place where he’d be unable to find.

But you found Armin’s little puzzle piece, and you slipped him right into the spot where he was missing. And you were finally able to see the bigger picture: that he always belonged there, and that no matter how many other pieces you tried, they wouldn’t be able to fill the spot as he does.

Armin awoke alone in your bed, and it took him a few moments to realize it was so. And as he was blinking his eyes open and processing why he was in your bed, he realized that he was the sole being in it. His heart sunk upon recognition, all the way into his stomach, and he was temporarily panicked in thinking that you’ve left him once again.

His spirits perk up a little when he hears faint clattering around from outside your room. So, Armin slides out from beneath your sheets and makes his way over to your bedroom door to peek out of the crack in it.

He can’t see much, but he can see you traveling in and out of his frame of vision. You seemed to be gathering things, followed by putting things away, and ever so often he could hear the running water of the sink.

Armin pulls back the door to leave your room, trying to remain quiet to prevent himself from scaring you. Once he steps out, he can make out what you’re truly doing. You’re cleaning your mess from earlier; the floor already seems to have been wiped clean of any sugar or flour residue, and you were continuing to file away jars while keeping others out. You had also pulled out a new bowl.

You were trying again.

Armin smiles to himself as he quietly makes his way over to you. You nimbly moved things around, so focused and precise with what you were doing. You slinked around the kitchen so skillfully that Armin could almost chuckle at the contrast it was compared to yesterday when you were stumbling around.

His heart pitter-patter’s around in his chest when he realizes you’re still wearing what he gave you earlier: his computer sciences club tee-shirt from highschool and cute little maroon panties that hugged the curves of your backside so well.

That was his now… you were his.

And, yes, it was partially the fact that you were prancing around half-dressed that got him hard again, but more so was the fact that you were doing so as his. His girl was comfortable enough to be walking around half-naked in her kitchen while he was home with her.

You didn’t kick him out this time, you didn’t change into something more presentable, because there wasn’t anything to be worried about. He didn’t put a shirt on because there was nothing for him to be worried about.

There was no awkward stage between the two of you. You’ve known each other and have loved each other for as long as either of you could remember, the only difference now was the fact that you’ve revealed it.

You were comfortable enough in this intimacy to be willing to be physically vulnerable with him. And Armin couldn’t get enough of it.

“What are you making?” He asks, making his presence known to you.

You turn to look up at him, keeping your hands on the silver bowl in front of you. You give him a sweet smile, looking down at the task at hand before looking back up.

“Dessert,” You shy away from him, turning back down to the bowl.

“Same thing as yesterday?” He asks, stepping to the other side of the kitchen island from you.

He watches you intently, looking at the way your fingers curl around the side of the bowl and the wooden spoon. He looks over the array of baking goods you’ve kept out and pulled together, then he looks at your face; your tongue between your teeth as your stir.

“Maybe,” You let out a little laugh, feeling heat come to your face.

You were both standing in front of each other, making a cake, half-dressed, after you had just woken up from a post-fuck nap. You were smiling like an idiot, Armin’s face turning pink, as you both ignore the obvious flirtatious tension that’s beginning to form.

“I could have helped you clean up your mess, you know. It’s why I came over in the first place.” He says, occupying himself by straightening out the jars into a line.

You nod, “I know, but… I created the mess, so I should’ve been the one to fix it.”

Armin knows you aren’t just talking about baking, you’re referencing earlier. He can tell you feel bad about it, but he doesn’t need to hear an apology from you again, he never needed an apology in the first place.

“Okay,” He says softly, giving you a sympathetic smile and ending the conversation there.

He doesn’t want to argue with you anymore, even if it’s not even arguing, he truly doesn’t want to dwell on things that are already solved. He knows that you know how he feels, and he knows how you feel, and he doesn’t feel the need to talk about it anymore if both of you know the truth.

You’re a team now.

“Do you want to help me with this instead?” You ask, looking up from the bowl and across the island to him.

He nods without verbally answering you, his eyes and face soften and you can see the muscles in his chest relax as well. His cheeks and neck are still flushed a pretty pink, and his body’s warm as he makes his way around the counter and beside you. He takes the spoon in his right hand, his bare chest pressing against the right side of your back as he reaches around you.

You can feel his head hovering above your right shoulder, his cheek just barely pressing against your temple. And although his whole body isn’t pressed against you, you can feel the presence of it behind you.

Armin Arlert was flirting with you, and you were loving every second of it.

Who knew he could get like this? He was so painfully subtle, but so obvious with it at the same time, he was playing innocent but somehow still exuding confidence. It was so incredibly attractive.

There was no need for him to be toying with you or trying to win you over, he’s had a claim on you, whether he was aware of it or not, since junior year. But he was doing it anyway like he was making up for all the times he wasn’t able to do so before.

You hope he can’t feel your body heating up in front of him or see the girlish smile that’s teasing at your lips due to his flirtatious intentions. You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbles around in your chest, threatening to escape. It just felt so different now, it was so much more intense now that he knew what he was doing.

You could feel yourself getting weak in the knees as he takes the spoon from your hand, remaining behind you as he stirs, his presence heavy. His left hand comes to your hip, remaining on top of the tee-shirt.

“I’ll always be here to help you, you know that right? In every way.” He says quietly, lips brushing against your ear as he speaks.

“I know,” You mumble, tilting your head to make contact with his cheek, and sinking into his touch. Your tensed muscles relax as you let your back rest against his chest.

You could stay like this forever, just with him, finally able to be with each other in the way both of you have always wanted. You don’t need to make anything official, you both already know, last night made whatever you two had official enough.

You liked being like this. It felt true and real and raw, and you couldn’t ask for anything more. You were in your kitchen, in your home, with your lover, making a cake at dusk. It was liberating, exhilarating, and had your entire body feeling like it was floating.

You almost giggle when Armin hands you the spoon back, releasing it so he can fully stand behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, clinging to your torso like a little puppy. He turns his head and leans down slightly to rest his cheek between your shoulder blades. He lets out a deep exhale as he does so, him now being the one to settle into your warmth.

He stays latched onto you while trying your best to continue pouring in ingredients, arms around your torso, and hands fiddling with your tee-shirt. You’re quite productive for a while aside from the occasional bulky awkwardness of his arms around you while you’re trying to move around. But He moves accordingly to make sure he’s not in your way, sometimes he’ll detach an arm from you to move something out of your way or organize something.

How deprived he must have been from your touch if he’s one to latch on like this. He could have always asked you to be close, even in the past when neither of you knew what you wanted from each other, you would have still shown him the affection he needed from you… you wish he would have asked. Maybe you would have told each other the truth quite sooner if you had decided to settle for the physical intimacy.

Armin doesn’t care anymore. He’s forgotten all about the time he’s had where you were just at his fingertips, staying out of his grasp. He now lives, his conscious is steady in the now; where you’re in his arms. All he knows is that you’re in his reach, and you’re letting him pull you in, and he wants you closer, and closer, and closer.

His body is flush against yours, now preventing you from any progressive or purposeful movements. And his hands have slipped themselves underneath the tee-shirt, feeling up and tracing over the smooth skin of the upper sides of your thighs before coming above the fabric and holding your waist.

He just wants to feel all of you all at once, like he had a quarter of the day ago. But it wasn’t just the sexual aspect, he didn’t care for that. It was a plus, yes, but what he really wanted was the vulnerability and intimacy of it. He had no desire for the pleasure that came with or the satisfaction. He just wanted you, and he wanted all of you… with him. Whatever came with it was just a bonus.

His hands slide over the soft skin of your stomach, squeezing the plush flesh on occasion. He can feel the way you shiver in response; the little trembles he pulls from your body with his gentle touch. He can feel your goosebumps prickling against the soft skin of his hands and forearms as they continue brushing against your body.

You can feel his hips grinding against the meat of your ass, not intentionally looking for pleasure, you can tell he just wants closer. It was like he was trying to melt into you, two bodies becoming one.

“Already?” You tease with a light giggle, setting down whatever occupied your hands to brace yourself against the counter.

He was hard against you, cock already throbbing and desperate for more. He’s never wished so before, but now he truly wishes didn’t have a dick… it always made things sexual when they didn’t need to be.

“Sorry — can’t help it,” He mumbles, pulling his head up so he can nuzzle his face into your neck, pressing kisses to the fragile skin before tucking his head into the crook of it.

He continued to feel over your body sensually, palms sliding over your stomach, your thighs, occasionally retreating between the two of you to squeeze the flesh of your ass before returning to your front to play with the waistband of your panties. The ones he picked out for you.

His touching had you already embarrassingly weak in the knees, all wobbly and unsteady as you latched your hands onto the edge of the counter for some kind of support. The task at hand was completely discarded, as you were focusing all your energy on keeping upright.

Heat was swirling around in your stomach, pooling between your thighs as you feel Armin’s cock grinding against your ass. His lips were back on your neck, pressing soft kisses below your ear as he was mumbling something that sounded like ‘I love you’.

And you could only return the admission. Tiny whispered ‘I love you’s escape your lips as you needily push back against his hips, aiding his lazy grinding.

He wasn’t trying to ask for anything more from you, he was satisfied with his feeling over your body and the little kisses on your neck. But you were giving him more, you were feeding into his desire

His teeth are nipping at your neck now and his hands have pushed the fabric of your shirt up past your hips. You’re softly moaning at the feeling of his cock brushing up against your barely clothed cunt and your eyes have fallen shut with your head rested back onto his shoulder.

And when his hands play with the hem of your panties from behind, fingers tickling the fat of your ass as he tries to pull the fabric aside to rut his still clothed hard-on right against your dripping cunt, you only aid his growing desire.

“Need you inside,” You breathe, reaching behind you grip his hip, feeling around only for a moment for his waistband before pushing it down his thighs, “Now.”

Armin grows hasty at your plea, suddenly getting knocked out of his lazy state of just wanting to feel your skin and into another mindset where he just wants to fill you. He wants to give you whatever you want, he wants to help you… in every way.

He takes his hands off of you only to push his sweats and boxers down his legs, just enough to for his cock to slap up against his stomach. And you’re already going to work at your undergarments, grabbing ahold of the inner hem of your panties from behind and tugging them aside to expose yourself to him.

Armin doesn’t hesitate to grab ahold of the base of his cock, the other hand gripping your waist tightly as he slides the head of his dick through your cunt.

“You’re — you’re so wet,” He mumbles, getting lost in the way your slick coats his dick so nicely. He’s in awe that your arousal is due to his doing.

“Can’t help it,” You whimper, mirroring his earlier words and rutting back against him, desperate for his cock to slip inside you.

Armin pushes inside you steadily, with a low groan leaving his lips as he does so. Both of your bodies tremble and you can feel your arms shake beneath your weight. His fingers press into your hips, gripping them tightly as his head falls back onto his shoulders. His eyes squeeze shut as his jaw falls open, trying to prevent himself from prematurely cumming again.

How much change a few days and some honesty can bring a relationship. Your intimacy in the past was limited to lengthy hugs, cheek kisses, and falling asleep on each other while watching movies. And now you were letting him take you from behind, over your kitchen counter… raw.

“God, Armin, you’re so big,” You cry, grinding yourself against his hips in a desperate attempt to adjust to this angle. You swear you could feel him in your stomach, literally shifting around your fucking organs.

He pulls out slow, shutting his mouth and taking his bottom lip between his teeth, furrowing his brows and exhaling through his nose. He tilts his chin down to his chest, cracking his eyes open just enough to be able to see the way your cunt stretches around his cock and clenches around the length of him.

You were slicking him up so nicely and enabling his dick to slide back into you so smoothly that it has a moan ripping from both of your throats. You fall down to your elbows, for your arms are no longer able to hold you up the way you need them to and splay your palms across the counter.

He opted for a steady pace once more, fucking you slow and long over quick and shallow. He loves the way you squirm when he reaches his hilt, unable to take his cock so deep, and the way you mewl out in the painful pleasure it brings.

But he wanted to take his time as well. He wants to cherish this sexual intimacy; take it whenever and however he wants it now that it’s his.

“Fuck — do you like it like this, from behind?” His voice strains as he leans over your body, his bare chest pressing against your back and his lips back against your ear.

He’s warm, overpowering, and for a moment, you feel small both mentally and physically. His words hit you like a train, and you're sent melting once more, cunt squeezing his cock again while tremors wrack through your body.

It wasn't dirty talk, but it was talking. It was confident talking with lewd undertones, from Armin of all people. And it had your entire body lit on fire. You were subconsciously rocking back against his hips, trying to get him deeper and trying to pull more of anything from him.

“Yeah?” He asks again, murmuring against your skin and sending goosebumps across your flesh.

“Mhm,” You nod, barely able to pick your head up.

“I can feel it, you know, when you get tighter,” He seethes, pulling out but filling you again with a little more force.

It sends your front knocking against the counter and your arms reaching out in front of you, blinding searching for something to grab onto. But it only causes your forearms and elbows to bump into jars and bowls, spreading them across the counter.

You can't stop the choked-out moans from escaping, even though you've taken your lip between your teeth in an attempt to muffle them.

“Fuck — you feel so good,” His right-hand reaches around your front, sliding up your stomach until it reaches your right breast. He squeezes it softly, using his thumb and forefinger to pinch at the nipple.

You gasp at the sensation, jerking upright, your back hitting his chest and hands coming back up with you to hold you up. It sends your whole body buzzing in reaction, the final drop of water that sends everything spilling over.

“Armin, fuck fuck fuck,” You choke, left hand flying back to his hips.

He’s going harder, deeper, and you swear you feel the head of his cock bumping against your cervix. It hurts, hurts so fucking good. And he doesn’t let up, but you don't want him to.

Then, the hand on your breast continues up your shirt, over your heaving chest until it rests at the base of your neck. It doesn’t squeeze, he doesn't go higher to grab your throat, he just holds the area where your chest meets your neck.

“I — I’m gonna cum,” You stutter, nails etching into the skin of his hips where your hand remains latched to.

He continues to rock his hips against you, pulling you a little father upright until your right hand no longer has a hold on the countertop and your fingers are just brushing against the granite. He’s pressing on your chest to keep your back to him, refusing to let you squirm away.

“Please, cum for me,” His voice goes soft again, ditching the sharp confidence for whiny pleading.

You struggle for thoughts, mouthing out words that aren't there, but somehow Armin manages to hear an “Inside — cum inside me,”

His hips stutter for a second, and only a brief wave of panic washes over him as he realizes he's not going to be able to pull out even if he wanted to. But then he remembers that you're on birth control. Christ, he's even picked your prescription up for you once or twice.

“You want it?” He asks, breath hot against your ear.

“Yes, please, please, please,” You beg

So, only after a moment of hesitation where he takes the time to hope you take your pills, he grits his teeth and buries his cock inside you until you’re yelping as you cum around his cock. The way you clench around him is what finally tips him over. And with a shaky groan and stuttering hips, he cums inside.

You can feel your stomach heat up from the inside out, in more ways than one. You can feel his release pooling around hot and thick inside you, and it sends warmth spreading all throughout your body.

Your fingers are tingling with electricity and your legs are visibly trembling as you suck in air. Armin can feel your pulse fluttering sporadically beneath his fingertips, and every inhale and exhale you take shifts his forearm atop your chest.

He gives you a few moments to catch your breath, releasing his hand from your throat and dropping both of them down to steady your hips. Your palms meet the countertop once more, and you have to lean over them to stop yourself from crumbling to the ground.

He can feel his cum seeping out of you, dripping down the length of his cock. And when he pulls out, it’s almost unsettlingly slick around him.

“Shit —” He hisses, sharp pleasure running up his stomach due to the overstimulation.

He hears little gasps from you as you lean over the counter on your tip-toes, head lolled forward and still breathing heavily. Your panties are still pulled to the side, the fat of your ass keeping you exposed. And once his sweats are pulled back over him, Armin reaches out to pull them back in place.

“I love you,” You say, voice still a little shaky in your post-orgasmic state. You don’t look back at him while you speak, but Armin still looks at you.

“I always have,” You continue, “And… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just — I love you too much to lose you over it.”

“I know,”

“Stay with me,” You straighten up, pushing your hair out of your face as you turn around to him.

“I will,”

Armin grabs ahold of your wrist and gently pulls you to him. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and there’s not a moment of hesitation where you don’t do the same. Your face is pressed into his chest, still warm from earlier, but you don’t mind.

You don’t ever want to go without his warmth again, in both a physical and spiritual state. And you won’t have to, because he feels the exact same way.

He holds you, with his lips pressed to your hairline and arms holding you tight, only pulling away to speak playfully.

“Let’s finish dessert, yeah?”

#armin arlert x reader #armin arlert x reader smut #armin x reader #armin x reader smut #armin arlert smut #armin smut #all this time #1k

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kiridarling · 3 years

Text

𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂!

izuku midoriya | tw!guns, single mom!reader, bouncer!izuku, domestic stuffs, tit sucking, mommy!calling ah, AND daddy!calling oh my, breeding kink, breaking the bed (futon). minors dni!

— 5.4k words

“When’s the last time someone touched you like this, hmm?”

The alley is dark.

There's a disconcerting feeling as you step deeper into the quiet darkness,

You turn to look at the door you entered this dank place from, but it's just as dark and grimy as the walls. You're almost positive that if you rested a hand against them, it would return pitch black, and if you stood in one spot for more than five minutes, the sticky booze would glue your heels to the floor. You're surprised when it doesn't.

"Hand over your wallet and no one gets hurt, pretty lady."

He's a smarmy looking bastard and as thin as they come. It’s clear this isn’t something he does on the regular, the pointed gun quivering so much you worry a trembling might slip and pull the trigger. And you fucking freeze, blood running below zero and heart plummeting because why you?

And fuck, you’ve got a kid at home with a babysitter, and there are many outcomes to this situation, none of them too cute.

"I said hand it over," he grunts, pressing forwards. Your back hits the grimy brick wall as your eyes dart to the mouth of the alley, where life continues, where cars race past, but no one sees a damn thing. Fuck. Fuck.

And it's not like you have much—hell, you may be a mother, but you know how to party. You squeeze your eyes shut, grip tightening around your purse as you clumsily fumble through it and the man steps closer. You toss all you have to his feet. A fucking twenty. He raises an eyebrow before eyeing your watch. He lets out an unimpressed snort.

"That it?"

You nod, taking a shaky step back.

"Well, that ain't fuckin' enough."

There's a click and you're positive it's him turning off the safety. His face twists like he's about to shoot a bullseye, and you squeeze your eyes as tight as they can go.

Until the looming shadow of the stranger disappears, followed by a sound that's distinctly skin on skin. Er—skin on bone.

You don't watch the fight. Frankly, you don't want to, and you still get to hear your protector spew a litany of curses and disrespectful phrases that should really only come from someone's mother. You don't even open your eyes, still screwed shut with a vice grip around your purse and wallet.

"Um, excuse me Miss? Are you alright?"

Your protector's eyes are much bigger than you expect them to be—and green. You realize you remember seeing those eyes, hardened from across the club.

He's hesitant to touch you, hands rising and falling and rising again. Though you suppose a hug seems like it'd be a little abrasive, it also sounds like the exact kind of thing you need right now.

"U-Um, yeah I'm..." you start, before noticing your attackers body bloodied and wrapped like a pretzel on the ground. "...Fine..."

He sounds like he's going to pass out—he doesn't.

"We should um, we should get you home," As he speaks, the greenette shuffles you out of the alley and into the streetlamp light, blinking himself out of something before holding a meaty hand out of formality. "I'm Izuku by the way. Izuku Midoriya."

For such a big guy, Izuku seems rather timid, and yet, seeing him at the entrance with crossed arms in a black tee and a scowl in the club doesn't give you much insight into his personality. Which makes you wonder why he became the club's bouncer in the first place.

"Um, nice to meet you," you nod, trying to suppress the shake in your hands as you take his. "Y/N."

Izuku smiles at that, and even though you're a regular, you've never actually seen him beam on the job. "Cool! Cool, so...um, I don't really feel comfortable letting you walk home...alone..."

You nod—he panics as if you aren't already on board.

"'Cause it's like, a conscience thing, you know? Like, I really won't be able to sleep tonight otherwise," Izuku defends, shoving a clumsy hand in his green curls. "B-But if you don't feel comfortable with it, or something, that's totally fine! I know what you just experienced was horrible, and you probably do—"

"Izuku."

"Yeah?" He perks up. It seems as if the circuit his mind runs finally comes to a stop.

"I'd...feel more comfortable if you walked me home. Too."

Your innards ache at the stiffness in both your voice and figure, but Izuku doesn't seem to notice. Instead, he beams, standing ten feet taller, and you think—yeah. You'd feel much safer if he did.

"O-Okay! Cool!" He confirms a bit stiff himself, and then, in a smoother motion, holds his hand out to take. "Shall we?"

Your red palm claps over his, and you snort quietly, "We shall."

You two walk in a surprisingly comfortable silence for the beginning of the walk—you lead the way and he silently trails behind, glaring daggers at any passerby with lingering eyes as you march on, unknowing.

"So um, do you come to Club 777 often?"

Which is a question you know he knows the answer to, completely aware you almost come every Saturday. But you smile at his attempt to start a conversation anyways, hands tucking underneath your armpits in search of warmth.

"Yeah, sometimes. Just trying to get out and stuff. Y'know, away from the kid."

"I get that," he nods with a smile, before tugging at the hem of his hoodie. "Oh! Are you cold? Here—wait, let me."

He shucks it over your head and your positive it messes up your hair. But you find that you don't care much, especially in favor of the warmth that it provides.

And then, "You have a kid?"

"Yep," you say, tucking your fists into the jacket pockets. "A big two-year-old potato waits for me back home."

"Oh," Izuku chortles at your description before tucking his hands into his jean pockets too. Licking his lips, his eyes dart to the street, "I...assume your boyfriend watches him for the night? Or husband or whoever."

"Uhm, not quite," you chuckle towards your feet, though it's a touch acrid. Izuku picks up on it immediately.

"Oh I'm so sorr—I didn't kno—"

"It's fine, Izuku really—"

"I—but I shouldn't even be assuming what if you had a wife or girlfriend or—" he takes a second to gasp, and your eyes widen in fear that he'll choke, "—or if they're nonbinary or—"

"Izuku," you knock him on the shoulder and he finally shuts up. "It's fine. I get it all the time."

He falters, but at least he seems to relax. "Really?"

"Yes," you giggle behind a hand, and the greenette smiles at it.

"O-Okay, cool."

Flecks of gold swim in Izuku's green irises and you find yourself noticing them now, suppressing the urge to advance closer for a better look. You stare long enough to watch his smile relax into a comfortable line, but you snap out of it once he kicks a rock, the sound of the gravel skittering across the floor tugging you out of your reverie.

"I'm not very good with kids, y'know," he says as an afterthought. You snort.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean," he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. "Like what am I supposed to feed it? French fries?"

"Toddlers aren't it's, Izu." You can't tell if he flushes from the nickname or from what you said, but either way, it's enough to prompt another laugh. "And maybe start with baby food?"

"Ah," Izuku nods, and you guide him in turning a corner. "That would make sense.

"It would."

By the time you stop in front of your red front door, it's almost three am. You figure you caught Izuku right after he got off work, if the cheesy All Might sweatshirt you're wearing is any evidence of that, but either way, he looks like he's about to fall flat on his face.

"You can stay for the night, if you want," you offer, albeit meekly, and Izuku lifts two hands with insistence.

"Oh! No no no please, I'm fine," he shakes his head so quickly his curls bounce in a flurry, and you genuinely worry he's going to pass out when he tries to blink himself awake. "Just...not used to staying up this late is all."

"Then stay," you offer with a shrug, and your orange porch light flickers. "It's the least I can do. I've got a bed and a futon, and I'm fine with sleeping on either."

"I..." Izuku's green eyes flicker towards your door before back to you, "I really shouldn't. I'm a stranger an—"

"And I'm offering."

Izuku's eyebrows fold with the dilemma, but you grab his hand with a tug and a smile, while your free one shoves the keys into the door. "C'mon. Let's get you some rest, yeah?"

You can't tell if Izuku blushes or if it's just the lighting, but either way, his chest inflates in protest before deflating in resignation.

"Okay."

With a smile, you turn the doorknob. Your door has always taken some shoulder to get open, so you don't hesitate in shoving your collarbone into the hardwood. Izuku cringes at the sight.

"Mama!"

Your hit in the legs first, nearly stumbling back with a quiet oof. You look down to see Max wrapped around your legs like you're a fucking jungle gym, grinning with two missing teeth and a bandaid over his nose.

It's three am.

"I'm done," your babysitter grunts. "He doesn't listen when I tell him to bathe, eat, anything—I fucking quit."

And with that, they slam the door behind them, house rattling under the pressure. You sigh. There goes another one. Fuck.

"Well that wasn't very nice," Izuku grumbles under his breath disapprovingly. You smile at the arms crossed over his chest until Max peeks around your legs to see...

"A new daddy?"

"I—no, baby," you fight the embarrassment (and the urge to say you fucking wish) by picking the little one up by his armpits, smiling when he thrusts his hands in the air and goes weee! After he's comfortably cradled in your arms, you say, "He's just staying the night."

"Like daddy did!" Max defends with a giggle before rushing the greenette with open arms. Izuku just looks at you with a shrug before kneeling to take a hug to the chest as Max chants, "New daddy! New daddy!"

And, well. There's no stopping him now.

You peel your heels off your cramping feet and sigh at the fucking freedom, toes uncurling from the scrunched position it feels like they've been holding the entire night. You curse under your breath when you realize since Max is awake you've got to put him to bed too, and honestly, if you knew this babysitter was going to be just as useless as the others, you would've just let Max run fucking free while you lived life for a few hours. Not like that outcome would be any better.

"Alright Maxie, c'mon."

You take him away from his celebration with the greenette and though he pouts, he allows his mother to gather him in her arms.

"Do you um, need help?"

You turn to see Izuku awkwardly shifting in the doorway from the request, hands behind his back with pursed lips. You shake your head.

"Oh no, it's fine. I just have to put him down really quickly and then I'll be—"

"Mama, I'm hungry. I want chicken nuggies." Max loops his arms around your neck and tugs so hard you worry about your bones. You shake your head with a sigh and a pout.

"It's too late for you to be up, bud. You can have chicken nuggies for lunch tomorrow. Sound like a plan?"

But goodness. In this state, it'll take hours for him to relax—and you still have to unfold the futon for Izuku.

Max whines and kicks his legs but doesn't say no, meaning he's not really that hungry, he just wants to stay awake. "But—but what if new daddy's gone in the morning like the last one?"

Fuck.

"Max," you sigh, giving him a light shake so his matching eyes look into you yours. You speak a little softer, "Izuku's not your new daddy, okay? He's a houseguest."

Max's face drops. "Not eve—"

"No, Maxie," you sigh, squeezing him on the shoulder. "Now let's go to bed, okay?"

"I can—I can put him down if you'd like! So you can get into something more comfortable and stuff. I mean, I've never worn a dress but sweats are so much better, you know? Or shorts, or...whatever you wear to sleep."

You understand the many points he's trying to get across, one being that's he's not a creep, just a nice guy, and you suppose you and Max can live in your "new daddy" fantasy for a little longer. Even if you know this one will be gone by morning.

"Um, okay yeah," you say, voice a little thin, before handing your child over to the greenette—who bounces into his arms excitedly. "I'll be back, then? His room is down the hall to the right. The one with the race car bed."

Izuku's eyes narrow as he processes your directions. "Down the hall to the right—okay! I'll just go take this little guy to bed, then."

"Okay, thank you," you nearly bow, because Izuku just saved both of you so much time and he doesn't even understand how. "Oh! And good luck."

"Good...luck?"

"Yep!" You say with a wink and a pat on the back before scooping your heels and booking it back to your bedroom with a cackle. Time to get out of this dress. Fucking finally.

You realize that being alone is much more unsettling when you've had a gun held to your head today.

Every little noise just seems off, like it could belong to something more than it actually does, even the silence; you find yourself shoving your head through your t-shirt abnormally fast, eyes blinking to take a survey of the room to ensure that you're alone. You are. It's fine.

And that's what you tell yourself when you close your eyes to run a wet rag over your face, and again with the dry one. All of a sudden, you don't like the way your bathroom window faces the open backyard nor do you like how dark it is outside. You don't like how big your bed looks, and goddammit, you haven't even gotten into it yet.

Pushing all uneasy thoughts aside, you stumble out of your bedroom with a fresh face and a new outfit, stilling in Max's doorway when the greenette doesn't notice you. Resting against the frame with crossed arms, you smile.

"I do so like green eggs and ham! Thank you! Thank you, Sam-I-am. You know, when I was a kid I—oh, he's asleep."

Izuku tucks the snoring boy in his lap under the covers with a gentle grin, pulling them underneath his chin. The greenette takes a second, watches Max's chest rise and fall a few times, before ruffling the tuft of hair on his head with a snort, and walking away.

You don't even think Izuku sees you until he practically sashays out the door, winking, "Good luck, huh?"

To say you go red in the face from that is an understatement.

"How do you do this?"

"Do what?" You ask as you pulling the futon in your living room forwards. Izuku yawns before gesturing to the clock with a shake of his head.

"Take care of a kid, and work, and go to a bar every Saturday evening? It's four am, and something tells me you've been up for a while. I'm practically dead and I wake up at one pm every day!"

You chuckle at that, jumping on the bed with your hands and knees to ensure its lays flat...and ensure that it won't make an Izuku sandwich at seven in the morning. "You build up stamina after a while, I guess."

"No shit," he gestures to you as you utilize the entire length of your body to put the sheets on the mattress. He would help, but you told him no, insisting that he'd only make this take longer. "Are you sure you do—"

"Nope," you huff, clapping your hands together. "I'm done."

Izuku blinks at the made bed, to you, to the made bed again, and then back to you with wide eyes.

"Mommy magic."

"I—" you blink towards the ceiling to see if that even makes sense, but you figure fuck it, it's four am, with a snort. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you want to call it."

In reality, you feel like you're about to pass out.

"Um, so I don't really have pj pants and I don't think you'll have any that'll fit, so..."

"Yeah no, I definitely burned all the shit my ex left—"

"Aha okay, cool, um, so just boxers...are fine...?"

He looks down at his black jeans and back to you, raising an eyebrow. You toss a nonchalant shrug in return, and you hate to say it, but your inner school girl goes—dick outline.

"O-Okay, then," Izuku says, and you watch his hands curl around the waistband. "I'm just gonna—"

He shucks his pants so hard they hit the floor, and your eyes widen because...well...looks like he's just gonna do it then.

Until Izuku's hands rush to cover his crotch (which you weren't peeking at, you weren't) and you realize that maybe you should've stepped out of the room or something.

"U-Um—that was fast—"

"I thought—thought you were going to uhm, turn around," he flushes, a funny contrast to the way his muscles fold under that black shirt, and your feet move to turn around like he ordered you to do it.

"Sorry! So sorry," you try to apologize, but now his dick print is burned in your brain, and...it isn't that bad.

"It—It's fine! I'm in the bed now so, you can turn around."

You laugh awkwardly and scuffle to turn, as you do, and Izuku beams at you from the bed with a wave.

"Hi," he says, his lower half-tucked under the covers. You wave back.

"Hi."

Izuku's eyes dart to you living room tv before the come back to you. "So uhm, I guess this is goodnight?"

"Oh right," you perk up at that, hands rubbing the sides of your thighs like there's something on them. "Time to go to bed, right?"

"Uh, yeah!" He nods, chest shuddering before he says, "so uh, sweet dreams?"

You smile tight at the kind gesture, and your hands opt to pull at the hem of your shirt instead, eyes drifting to an old pile of records you haven't regarded in months. "Thanks! You...too?"

Izuku smiles, though his eyes drift, "Yeah..."

You beam back. You figure you should probably go now, or something, until you think of something and slam a fist into your palm. "Oh! Also, I meant to thank you for saving me. I'm not sure if I did that. Did I do that?"

The greenette shrugs, "Uh, I think so?"

"Okay! Okay. Cool," you nod, flashing a tight smile. "Mmk. Night Izuku."

"G'night."

And see, you would move—except it seems as if your feet are glued to the floor and won't move no matter how hard you try, to the point where it feels like your straining and they're going numb, and yet you're still staring at Izuku's pretty fucking face.

"C'mon," he chuckles, scooting over on the futon to make extra space for you. "If you take all day, the beds gonna get cold, and then I'm going to have to crawl into yours like a creep."

"Oh my fucking god," you snort one breath and move to flick off the lights before stumbling through the darkness for the futon. "You're so weird."

"Weird in a good way, I hope," he lifts the blanket and you slide under—and swear your knee grazes his before it's snatched away.

"There's no weird in a bad way," you say once you've settled comfortably, tucking your hands under your head as you lay on your stomach. Izuku mimics your position, though he takes up much more of the blanket, and you find that it drapes over you like a tent over his shoulders. Neither of you close your eyes, for some reason.

"Hi," Izuku whispers.

"Hi," you smile back.

"Okay," he huffs, face twisting in determination, "Now it's goodnight."

"Right," you nod, but your eyes don't close. "Goodnight. Of course."

"Don't let the bedbugs bite," he says with a chuckle, and you can't tell if his eyes flicker to your lips or if you imagine it. Either way, you look them just in case.

"I better not have bedbugs," you snort. "I clean this place like a motherfucker."

Izuku's nose twitches at that with a nod. Moonlight pours into your living room and colors his pale skin silver, though you figure it won't take the sun much longer to color it a strawberry pink. "You really do. It's...different when it's quiet."

"Yeah," you agree, placing your hands on his chest. It shudders under your palms. "Kinda personal, huh?"

"Mhm," he nods, and though his hands wrap around your wrists, they never pull them away. You lift an eyebrow.

"A bad personal?"

Izuku doesn't hesitate, breath nearly ghosting your lips as he says, "Hardly."

"Would you..." now it's your chests turn to shudder, and sliding a hand up to play with his ear, you bite the bullet. "Like to get more personal?"

Izuku's lips melt into a grin against yours, "I'd love to."

His lips are softer than you thought.

Maybe because you assumed all of him was a bumbling mess, including his chapstick application; but they're fucking pillow-soft, and you don't realize how deprived you are until his hold around your body turns from protective to sensual and you melt from his heat.

"Fuck," Izuku huffs between kisses, growling when your grip around his neck tightens. "Watching you from across the club for weeks can do a thing to a guy's patience, you know."

"Oh?" You snort as he presses enthusiastic open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck, hot and wet, and painful once his teeth dig into your collarbone. "A-Ah, Izuku—no marks."

"O-Oh! Sorry," he pulls away, lips red and swollen, and shiny with spit. You smile at the reaction.

"'S okay, Baby," you giggle at the speed to which his muscles go lax, and his eyes droop to your chest when you scratch the back of his head.

"Can I—can I suck your tits?"

He asks so bashfully it's nearly innocent, and you find your eyes dropping to your chest along with his before you're ditching his All Might sweatshirt all together.

"God," Izuku's eyes flutter as he gathers your breasts in both palms, groaning at the sight. "They're fucking perfect."

You shudder as his thumb ghosts a nipple, and Izuku dips an experimental hand under your lacy bra and pinches. Hard.

Your thighs jolt and hands fist the sheets, and a moan comes from the back of your throat before you can stop it. Izuku's hand rocket to cover your mouth.

"Shh—you don't wanna wake him up, do you?"

You shake your head, but it's hard to keep quiet when your nipples are as sensitive as they are. Izuku doesn't seem like he really means that statement, though, lowering his head with a devilish grin as if he knows that for himself.

“Sensitive, Mommy?”

“O-Oh um,” you flush at the nickname, and even more so when his lips close around your nipple and suck. Tangling a hand in his hair, you sigh, “Yeah, a little.”

Izuku hums at that, eyes fluttering to watch you bite your bottom lip in a poor attempt to muffle a moan, hissing as his teeth dig into the hardened bud. He pulls off with a slurp and moves to the other, but not without a few kisses across your chest.

“When’s the last time someone touched you like this, hmm?” Izuku nearly growls out before biting into the opposite nipple, and you shudder as he dips a scarred hand down the waistband of your shorts and panties. He chuckles after sliding a finger through your slit. “So wet for me.”

“It—It’s been a second,” you sigh, grip tightening around his shoulders as he slides a finger in. Even Izuku has to bite a lip at your tightness in anticipation, mouth descending over your nipple once more to send frissons of fire up your spine.

“No shit,” he grunts around your nipple, curling his finger. You gasp. “Think I can fit another one in there?”

“Why don’t you try?” You giggle, but it dissipates into nothing but air as he does, his two fingers filling you up enough to elicit a sigh.

“How’s that?” He breathes, face hovering over yours. As your hands coil around his neck, his free one reaches for your inner thigh and pulls it back far enough to give him a better angle as he presses you into the mattress.

“Good, it’s good,” you nod, and your hips start to move on their own, bucking forwards as if there’s any more finger left for you to fuck. (Spoiler: there’s not.)

“Good,” he breathes, eyes going glossy as he watches you writhe under him. You're positive that you're carving painful red lines into his back, but considering the way his eyebrows fold every time you do, makes you wonder if he doesn't mind. "Fuck I can't wait to fuck you—I can fuck you, right?"

"No Izuku, I'm just letting you finger me for fu-u—fuck."

He slides in a third finger and for some reason, it burns a little—but the burn only makes your eyes roll further, and he's stuffing you with a chuckle.

"What was that?"

"I-I—you're not pla—playing very fair," you huff, chest shuddering as he tilts your hips higher for a better angle. You suppress a scream when his fingers curl, jolting forwards at such a speed it makes the futon creak. Izuku tightens his grip around your waist to keep you from going too far.

"No one said anything about being fair, Mommy," he teases, and you whine when he removes his fingers, tapping them against your lips. "C'mon, you gotta get 'em wet so I can fuck you, right?"

You nod at the idea, enjoying the idea of being filled up much more, and coat his fingers to the point where they're dripping when he pulls him out. Izuku's chest rumbles.

"So good for me," he purrs, using your spit to coat his cock before he's sliding his head between your folds—you shiver, grabbing onto his back again. "Ready?"

“Mhm,” you nod, spreading your legs further—though you swear they do that on their own.

“Oh my, you’re um...tight...”

You whimper from the stretch and look between your legs, eyes widening upon seeing that Izuku’s much bigger than you had anticipated. Or had been warned of.

“F-Fuck, I can’t—“

“Shhhh, it’s okay, just a little more, okay?” Izuku nearly whispers into your lips as his hands move to rub your shuddering sides. Your eyes screw shut, “Jus’ a little more, Mommy...”

Izuku pushes deeper and you’re being split in half—because what else could that burn be—but you’ll admit, the feeling of accomplishment you receive once he bottoms out is surreal.

“Good—Good girl,” Izuku’s nearly quivering and plants his hands on both sides of your head with a huff.

“I-Izu,” you whimper as he starts to move, feeling impossibly full no matter how far he pulls out. Izuku shudders, mouth rounding into an ‘o’ when his hips slowly start to gain rhythm, and though it’s loud, you know the creak of the futon is unavoidable. You squeal as his head hammers into your cervix, pulling out a wanton Daddy before you have half a mind to shut the fuck up. You nearly freeze, and yet, all Izuku’s hips do is speed up.

“Yeah? Want me to be your new Daddy?” He moans, and you dig your nails into his back with a nod. The greenette curses at that, biting his bottom lip and his hand drops between your legs to rub at your clit. With thighs seizing around his waist, you slam a hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet.

“Fuck—I make you feel that good, Mommy?” Izuku nearly wheezes, eyes suppressing the urge to screw closed, “So good you can’t keep your pretty mouth shut?”

“Y-Yeah, I—“ you gasp when he lifts your hips off the bed for a better angle, hands fisting the sheets. “Harder, Daddy—“

“Oh Mommy, if I go any harder I think I might break this bed,” he says, borderline bashful, but you find yourself saying fuck the bed as your hips buck in search of a feeling he refuses to give you. Izuku’s chuckle strains as he says, “So needy, Mommy. You that needy for my cum?”

Clawing at his back, you try your damnest to stutter out a yes. Izuku chuckles at your desperation before he cuts himself off with a groan, eyes rocketing to where you’re both connected as you tighten around him.

“F-Fill me up, I wanna—“

“You want another baby, Mommy?” Izuku pants, and you’re so close you start to feel a buzz in your thighs, praying he isn’t too far behind. You nod vehemently with a gasp and his lips slide into an exhausted smile, "Fuck, of course you do—and you’re gonna take me so well, aren’t you? All of it.”

Izuku finishes his sentence with a growl, pressing you further into the mattress—it squeaks like a squeaky wheel, and when it thunks a level lower both of you yelp, the back of the futon thumping on your hardwood floor with each thrust.

“Told ya,” Izuku wheezes, eyes scrunching in a chuckle. You return it.

“It—It’s old anyway,” you reply, but your eyebrows fold as quickly as they unfold from the crash. The creaking futon increases in pitch as his hips pick up the pace, “Fuck—fuck Izuku I’m gonna cum.”

“What’s my name?” The greenette challenges, and you find yourself shivering at the dominance he exudes. The finger on your clit disappears and you whine, knowing damn well you can’t cum without it.

“Daddy—Daddy please—“

“Good—fuck, so good for me,” his hand returns to your clit and you sigh at the feeling. As the coil in your gut threatens to snap, his hips speed up, and Izuku pants, “We’re gonna cum together, yeah? Cum with me Mommy, c’mon—“

“Fuck!” You drag red lines down Izuku’s back as you quake under the weight of your orgasm, broken bed whining as Izuku thrusts all his weight into you. Digging his teeth into your shoulder, the greenette cums with a broken moan, hips stuttering into yours for the final time that night.

The room fills with a comfortable silence, minus the panting, and Izuku rolls onto the mattress next to you with a bounce. It creaks, whines, and then drops again, catching both you and the greenette by surprise. (Again.)

“I think—I think we broke it,” Izuku says towards the ceiling as he catches his breath. You giggle at that, hands laid across your sweaty stomach, and turn to him with your head in the pillow.

“Gives me an excuse to buy a new one,” you say with a shrug. Izuku chuckles back.

“I guess,” he teeters his head to both sides. “I can...also pitch in, if you want. Since I broke the thing. Technically.”

His offer sounds apprehensive as if he’s encroaching in your space, as if he hasn’t been all up in your space less than a minute ago. You smile. “I’d like that a lot, actually. Thanks.”

"And um, breakfast? I mean," he snorts, though it seems rather defensive, and his eyes rocket to the ticking clock on your wall. Your eyes follow: five am. "I mean—fuck um, I feel like this might be weird but I think you're cool? Um, yeah, so breakfast, I can make it if you want because you're so busy being motherly and stuff and plus, it's Sunday but again, if you don't wan—"

"Izuku," you giggle, wrapping your arms around his gut with a little squeeze. "Breakfast sounds nice."

The greenette beams and his chest stutters. "O-Okay cool! Cool, cool. Breakfast then?"

You snort, driving your palm into his face to shut him the fuck up. "Goodnight, Izuku."

Izuku giggles, getting the message, and coils his arms around your shoulders to provide a comfort you haven't felt in a very, very long time.

"G'night Mommy."

#— 𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔 #CLUB 777 #izuku smut #bnha smut #mha smut #midoriya smut

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nade2308 · 3 years

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6? 😉

YOU ARE IMP AND I LOVE YOU!

You always know just which ask to send to SET ME OFF!!!

We have come to this ask and now I will truly go off my hinges. And I know that you know which one I'm gonna go with.

6. which shows do you think are underrated and need more love?

I LOVE THAT YOU ASKED THIS BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHICH SHOW I WILL PICK!

(I probably have a few more that I can't remember atm, but there's a lot of things I watch that I think are underrared)

Anyway, my answer for this is, without a doubt, Magnum, P. I. And the OG at that.

There's just so much depth and so many serious topics in it, and a lot of other things that I feel are underappreciated and underrated, I can't even begin to describe just how I feel about it.

Used to be that show I watched because they showed it on TV and I was invested, just didn't remember much of it for the years to come. Recently, after some turn of events, I started rewatching it. I'm close to a full rewatch and all I can say is that I relearned something, and that's how to fall for this TV show again. Because it's amazing and good.

It's not a feel good show most of the time, in fact there's a lot of cold, hard truths in it, about our every day lives and tasks that can apply to today again. I mean you have a show with a Vietnam war vet, something that a lot of people still wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. And not once I saw it be used in a demeaning way or to make Thomas seem like he is just inflated into this character. He was a vet with PTSD, often shown to have flashbacks from 'Nam and still having issues with it, but he was never ashamed that he served. Then there are his friends, who are also vets, and Higgins who served in a different war, but still a vet himself. I feel this is the premise of that meme of "___ guys walk into a bar".

So, other than Thomas being a war vet now turned into a PI slash security consultant at Robin's Nest, he is also very smart. And it's written and shown in such a normal way that you don't have to have it be emphasized, it's just there. It's in the small moments when there's some information casually dropped in a conversation, or a plan is being made and boy has a strategic advice to offer. He didn't exist so long in the Navy by being dumb, that's for sure. And people often don't take him seriously, and use him for their personal gain or like he doesn't have feelings. But it's a fact that this boy cares so much. Not to mention the aspect where a character can exist being both smart and goofy in equal measures without that affecting who he is as a whole. Imagine that!

Then there is the fact that you have Higgins, Rick and TC, everyone smart in their own right, coexist together with Thomas. They are all successful men. Higgins with being the majordomo of Robin's Nest, with a lot of war stories below his belt, Rick having his club and TC his helicopter services. It's just all around a breeding ground for boys thriving. And if sometimes you fail at something or something is not going, oh well, things could always be worse. And all of these characters know that. And yet, they get up every day, do their thing, sometimes they fail, sometimes they win. It's life.

Another aspect that always gets me with this show is the amount of whump we got. Just take in consideration how many times Thomas was whumped in only the first half of season one and you'll see. There's some epic follow ups in the days after the initial whump occures. Of course most injuries are over by next week's ep, but for the duration of the ep, you have some epic post whump days where it hurts to get up, but you do it anyway. Like we'd say here: even my hair is hurting. And then there's boy's epic pained grunts and groans, the winces, and just about every little "ow" he exclaims whenever he is hurting. Let's not focus only on the physical whump, because the emotional one is pretty amazing. You have flashbacks, you have deaths, you have just about anything that can happen and a reaction to it. Sometimes it's tears, sometimes it's anger, sometimes you just deal with it by sleeping on it. It's such an accurate description on how things happen that I still can't come to terms with the amazing show we got.

The amount of times that for a show from the '80s you didn't exactly have labels or boxes where you put things in still amazes me and watching this show in today's world and today's conditions I realize it's not that much different than how it felt back then, although that's just an assumption on my side. I just feel that this show aged like a fine wine, and I am forever grateful we got it. The many amazing moments in episodes where real life took over front and center as the main plot of the story.

There are also so many funny scenes that sometimes had me in stitches. I loved those kind of moments and episodes where you had a mix of serious and funny and neither canceled the other as less important or too over the top. Honestly, whenever I think of this show, and during my rewatch, I have noticed that there is a certain balance, something you can't see in today's shows. Not saying that other shows out there or those I have watched aren't good, or that I don't enjoy them, but they usually have pretty much of a clean cut characters, or a clear line between who is the villain and who is the hero and Magnum, P. I. is not what that is about. Everyone can be the hero and the villain interchangeably. No one is inherently good or bad. Tom has flaws, Rick has flaws. So do TC and Higgins and the myriad of characters that appear in episodes or arw recurring characters. And I like that very much. It what makes this show appealing to me, what makes Thomas appealing to me.

He isn't conforming for anyone, he never tries to fit a label or to justify himself to other people. Why he does what he does. He is sometimes very blunt and upfront, he can be painfully honest, doesn't know when to back down or say no to people. He gets used by people way too often, and he is an overgrown puppy that just wants to live his life. He is a klutz, and he forgets to eat, puts his keys in the fridge and generally his memory is never infallible. That boy has a serious case of executive dysfunction and ADHD, and somehow it's okay, because he is doing his best. He has so many flaws, and he lives with it. Lives with all that nowadays would be characterized as weird, not typical, something you have to have diagnosed and be sure you have it so you can be validated and accepted as a person. And guess what, Thomas has all that and he is still functioning as normally as possible.

Thomas Magnum is a simple man who makes mistakes and that makes him even more human. And I love that he isn't looking for anyone's validation. He may have that PTSD and trauma and scars from everything that he's done or was done to him, but he never has the need to explain himself to people. And I find that admirable and attractive. That he just IS. He doesn't need to be anyone else, he is himself. And he exists just fine.

I know I took this in several different directions (and we knew I would), but bottom line is, this show's got it all. And in my opinion, it doesn't get as much attention and love as it should.

#asks #answers #this is what happens when you ask me something that I will certainly go off on #thomas magnum #magnum pi #og magnum pi

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feverdreamfantasies · 4 years

Text

The Birthday Gift

Pairing: Human!Hoseok x Human!Yoongi x Human!Reader, Snow Leopard Shifter!Jimin x Human!Reader

Featuring: German Shepherd Hybrid!Taehyung, Doberman Hybrid!Namjoon, Neighbor!Jungkook, (Jin to make an appearance later)

Genre: Hybrid AU, Fluff, Angst, Poly AU, eventual Smut, Producer!Yoongi, Scientist!Hoseok

Warnings: Brief mention of blood, Mention of Hybrid abuse, Some adult language, Mentions of a poly relationship between M x M x F

Summary: “Hobi! What is he?” Yoongi repeats himself looking from me in the corner over to his boyfriend.

“He’s a shifter.” Hoseok mumbles, hand rising to scratch the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry. What?”

“He’s a shifter! Okay. I adopted our girlfriend a shifter for her birthday.”

Author’s Notes: This was an idea I’ve had in my head for a little while and I thought I would go ahead and start writing it. Also since this is the first chapter there’s a lot of background information in this one but moving forward there will be less filler and hopefully more story line progression. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter One: The ultimate Birthday gift

Sometimes I wonder how I got here in my life.

After nearly 5 years of being with Yoongi, I thought I was prepared for anything, but standing here in our neighbor Jungkook’s living room watching his sweet arctic fox hybrid, Sooyun, turn into the vicious predator she truly is; I began to question the choices I’d made that lead me here.

Let me backup a little bit to how I came to witness the scene before me. I was quietly having breakfast earlier this morning when Hoseok made his way loudly down the staircase that led into the kitchen.

“Have you seen your boyfriend?” He asked with an emphasis on “your”, clearly perturbed with the man in question.

“What’s he done now that makes him ‘my’ boyfriend?” I say while taking a bite of my toast.

For all the time I have been in a relationship with Yoongi, Hoseok has been with him longer. The two met in their first year at university and began dating shortly there after. I came along about four years later, back when I was a shy, young intern for the music company Yoongi was—and is still— a big time producer for.

I had heard rumors when I first started there that he had a bit of a different romantic life than most. Everyone loved to whisper about the open relationship he and his boyfriend supposedly had. I tried not to listen to the rumors, but I couldn’t deny the big fat crush I had developed on Yoongi either. I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest every time he walked into the same room as me. And when he asked me out for drinks one day, all I could do was nod in response because I didn’t have the courage to give a verbal yes.

I was nervous and apprehensive about possibly going on a date with an already taken man. But my curiosity got the best of me and I showed up to the bar he had suggested. He was sweet and kind to me. Being patient with my quietness until I warmed up enough to be able to contribute to our conversation.

He was also very straightforward and honest with me.

“I know there are rumors about my personal life in the office.” He stated matter-of-factly, taking a sip of his jack and coke before continuing. “So I’ll admit that I’m kind of surprised you agreed to come out with me tonight.”

I brushed a piece of my hair behind my ear, a nervous habit of mine that brings me an artificial level of comfort. “To be honest” I swallow “I’m not really sure I was even going to show up.”

“Well I’m glad you did.” He said with his adorable gummy smile.

“And to be upfront about everything, the rumors are true. I do have a boyfriend, and we are in a serious, committed relationship.”

I raise my eyebrows at this.

“I know what you're thinking. So then why would I ask a beautiful woman like you out on a date if I’m already spoken for?”

My heart speeds up when I hear him use the word beautiful. He leans across the high top table we are sat at, so he can speak lower and not have the other customers at the bar listen in.

“Hobi and I have always been open to the concept of a polymorphic relationship. We’ve tried in the past with potential romantic partners; but they usually ended up ghosting on one of us, once they figured out what we were looking for.”

“So why do you think I’ll be different?” I question finding some confidence in my voice. Afterall, it isn’t like Yoongi is talking about some small, trivial thing. He’s openly discussing with me the potential of starting a romantic journey with him and his boyfriend. Journey being the only way I can truly describe it because honestly what if this actually became something, what do I say to my parents then? “Mom. Dad. Meet my boyfriend Yoongi and his boyfriend--slash my other boyfriend--Hoseok.”

Yeah...this was most certainly going to be a journey.

“Honestly, I’m not sure you will be. But I like you, Y/N. And from what I’ve told Hoseok so far, he’s interested too.”

I snort at this response. What possibly could I have done to get Yoongi’s attention that he’d like me, let alone know anything about me enough to want to tell his boyfriend.

“Up until tonight, I’ve barely said anything to you.” I state to the dark haired man across from me.

Yoongi shrugs at this like it doesn’t matter. “People speak louder with their actions than with their words.”

“Yeah? And what do my actions say about me?” I ask genuinely.

He doesn’t miss a beat with his response.

“You’re smart without being pretentious. You have confidence without arrogance. And most importantly you’re kind.”

“I’m kind?”

Yoongi nods.

“A couple of weekends ago I saw you inside the hybrid rescue downtown. I was going to go in and say hi, but thought that might intimidate you a little bit.”

He says this last part with a laugh, as my cheeks turn red from the fact I know that would have been true.

“I asked one of your fellow interns, Ilsung, about it. He said you volunteer there whenever you can. That you have a real soft spot for hybrids and their rights. Not many people are as compassionate to their causes. And as someone who has had the honor to adopt two myself, I’m really drawn to others who want to make a difference for them.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m making a difference.” I say sheepishly. “But when I was a kid we had a family cat hybrid named Wendy. She and I did everything together until they came and took her away when we were both 12. And let’s just say that made an impact on me.”

When my parents were kids, hybrids were just starting to be introduced to society. But years prior to that, governments and militaries had been creating and breeding hybrids for years as an experiment to get a defensive edge when it came to warfare. It proved not to be as promising as they had hoped and what ended up happening is they sold their hybrids and hybrid secrets to the highest bidder, which turned out to be a large corporatation. This corporation in turn introduced cat and dog hybrids to the rest of the world. Claiming that they were a step above your average household pet and could provide a more fulfilling companion experience. Hybrids quickly became a hot commodity. And the black market was soon taking off with their own hybrid creations of more exotic and “dangerous” hybrid breeds. Soon the hybrids were beginning to outnumber humans 2 to 1 and fear of who they are and what they can do began to take over.

Laws were passed as a means to protect humans. Rather than create laws that stopped the unethical treatment and breeding of hybrids, they were created to limit their rights. Not completely human but also not completely an animal either, hybrids fell in a category with many blurbed lines. The laws state all hybrids must have an owner and must either be accompanied by that owner at all times or have a microchip implanted within the back of their necks that can be scanned to indicate they belong to someone. Any strays were in extreme cases euthanized and in less extreme cases placed in overcrowded shelters and rescue centers, where they would more than likely spend the rest of their lives.

For those who did get adopted or were bought by breeders, their lives may not be as lucky as those who did not. It isn’t uncommon for those hybrids adopted to end up in underground hybrid clubs. These clubs offer humans all sorts of sick fantasies to play out with hybrids. This can be anything from deadly hybrid fight rings to hybrid brothels where they can use and abuse any female and male hybrids of their choosing. In my time volunteering at the rescue center, I have listened to stories I wouldn’t even wish for my worst enemies to have to endure.

“Wendy came into my life when on my 5th birthday. My Mom and Dad had decided I needed a companion. As an only child with parents who weren't able to have any more kids, my parents thought adopting a hybrid could be the next best thing. But the year we both turned 12, is the year Wendy started to go through her changes.”

Yoongi listened to my story with great intensity.

“Of course as humans we all go through puberty between the ages of 11 and 18. This isn’t uncommon for hybrids either except their changes aren’t typically of the reproductive kind until later in their late teens and early twenties, but what they do change in is behavior. Their animal instincts can have the potential to become more dominant, leading to aggressiveness and in some cases violence.

When Wendy and I were playing outside one day, a neighbor's hybrid wandered into our backyard where we were. He looked to be some small wild cat hybrid, probably bought in some shady back room of an outdoor market. He was around our age if not a little bit older. He’s name was Yongho and he could hear our laughs from inside his house. He asked if he could play with us, saying he was lonely being cooped up inside all day. I was glad to have another person to play with so I said yes immediately without noticing that Wendy was apprehensive. Her tail was flicking side to side and ears were slightly pinned back, but I thought that was only because she may be jealous of having some of my attention shared with another hybrid. I chose to ignore her warning signs and suggested a game of tag.

It all seemed to be going fine. At first I was ‘it’ and although they were both faster than me, Yongho decided to slow down so I could catch him. But once he was ‘it’ that’s when everything would change to become one of the worst days of my life.”

I paused so I could take a sip of my drink to try and calm myself down. I hadn’t thought of this day in a really long time and I was struck by the fact that I was so easily sharing it with Yoongi when not even most of my close friends knew what had happened. Yoongi reached across the table and gently rubbed his thumb over my hand to encourage me to keep going.

I cleared my throat.

“Because Yongho was a predator hybrid, a game of tag can quickly turn into a dangerous game of cat and mouse. When Wendy and I ran off in opposite directions after getting a 10-second head start that’s when Yongho’s animal instincts kicked in. As a slow and small human girl, I became easy prey to the hunter and Yongho began to come after me. Naive to noticing that anything had changed, I giggled as I tried to dodge around the trees in our backyard to create obstacles between us. And when I turned around to see how close he was that’s when I saw the predatory look in his eyes. I gave a small but effective scream which in turn caught the attention of Wendy. She halted in the direction she was going before quickly turning around. I in the meantime froze out of fear. Yongho slowed but didn’t stop moving toward me. He staked his way closer in the same way you would see a lioness do through the brush on a nature show before she pounced on an antelope. And unfortunately for me, I was that antelope. Just as Yongho pounced with claws out, Wendy intercepted him and they both tumbled to the ground, rolling around and making animalistic noises I had never heard before.

This got the attention of my mother. Who once she came outside to see what was happening began yelling for my dad. He ran out and grabbed me. Easily picking me up and throwing me inside the house ordering me to lock the door and telling my mother to call HES (hybrid emergency services). My dad tried to get Yongho off of Wendy when he had managed to pin her to the ground while I burst into tears once the adrenaline started to wear off. HES showed up quickly, but not fast enough to stop Wendy from accidentally scratching my dad. She was aiming for Yongho when my father’s arm got in the way and left a deep wound along his forearm which instantly began to bleed. Because hybrid laws take all cases of violence toward a human seriously, HES not only took Yongho away but they also took Wendy. My father spent the next several weeks in court trying to get her back saying she had scratched him with no ill intention but they wouldn’t listen. The only thing they could offer was for us to send her off to a reform facility, where she would spend the next three years, in hopes that maybe once she had gone through the proper reform training then she would be able to come home. My parents agreed to send her off, but 6 months after she arrived they claimed she had ran away, only to find out in the news a few years later that this reform facility was secretly selling desirable hybrids off to private sellers and the black market. I haven’t seen her since.”

Things between us got really quiet after I told my story. Yoongi continued to rub my hand before noticing that my eyes were watery. Tears threatening to come cascading down. He sprung into action and leapt off his stool scooping me up into a hug.

“I’m so sorry” he whispered.

I could hear the sincerity in his voice and felt overwhelmingly comforted within his embrace. I thought right then and there that I never wanted him to let me go. And I didn’t care if that meant I had to share him with someone else because at that moment it felt like I was always supposed to be his.

Shortly thereafter I met Hoseok face to face. The three of us went on a date to a nice restaurant to see how we would all get along. The date went exceptionally well, as did the next one, and the one after that. After a couple months, the three of us went away for the weekend and discussed the next steps for our future. It was decided that we would all move in together and start a relationship that would define my next five years.

Looking over at Hobi now with his brows crossed and a mild look of exhaustion on his face. I couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“He promised me he would come home last night so he could be here for your birthday this morning.”

“Yoongi is here.” I say. “Also nice of you to wish me a Happy Birthday.”

He rolled his eyes before walking over to me and kissing me on the forehead. “He didn’t come to bed last night.” He responds as he releases me.

“That’s because he came to my bed,” I say with a teasing grin.

Once we moved into this house, it was decided that Yoongi and Hoseok would share a room while I had my own. I didn’t mind it much because Yoongi would often sneak into my bed once Hobi fell asleep. Or if Yoongi was at the studio all night then one of our hybrids would cuddle up with me, especially Taehyung.

Speaking of which, the German Shepherd hybrid came bounding through the backdoor. A smile on his face and a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his hand.

“Happy Birthday Y/N!”

“I got you these!” He thrust the wildflowers toward me. Tail wagging rapidly behind him.

“Thank you Tae.” I take the flowers from him smelling them in the process. “These are beautiful.”

He’s smile grows wider. Taehyung was one of the two hybrids Hoseok and Yoongi had adopted before I joined their family. Well adopted was not really the correct term to use. Hoseok worked as a scientist for the government. And though they had supposedly moved on from the hybrid world, the three of us knew that wasn’t true. Hoseok started working there right out of college. Initially he was told he was there for human medical purposes, specifically in terms of medicine and vaccine studies. However, while that was mostly true, Hoseok discovered one day by accident that there were also medical experiments being done on hybrids in ways that they would never imagine doing to humans.

From that moment on, Hoseok took it upon himself to make changes but he’d have to climb his way to the top in order to make any real change. Now being the second in command to the head of the medical research team, Hobi had more privileges to know what happened in the hybrid labs but still didn’t have full command of what went on in there. But that didn’t stop him from managing to rescue a couple in the process.

I didn’t really know all that had happened to Taehyung and Namjoon--our Doberman hybrid--while they were in that lab, but I knew that it made them respond to things in opposite ways. Taehyung was clingy and loveable. Namjoon was a little standoffish at first but if I played my cards right he could be putty in my hands.

“Where do you want to eat tonight?” Hobi asked.

“You guys aren’t going to make me a homemade meal.” I whine.

“If you want food poisoning then I would be more than happy to make you whatever you would like. Or if you don’t mind eating until almost 2 in the morning then I’ll ask Yoongi what he wants to make tonight.”

I stick my tongue out at him. I hate his reasoning sometimes.

“In that case, I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

“We all know that you’ll choose the same place you always do.” A sleepy Yoongi says with a yawn. His hair slightly sticking up in the back indicating he had just climbed out of bed.

He walks over to me, sliding into the booth of our breakfast nook and kisses me gently.

“Happy Birthday Princess.” He says in his deep groggy voice.

“I’m surprised you're up already.” I state as I fed him some of my breakfast. He takes a bite and swallows before responding.

“Someone made a pretty severe threat of laundry duty if I didn’t show up this morning. And we all know if I’m on laundry duty for a full month, we will all be deeply sorry.”

We enjoy the rest of our morning with happy banter and cuddles on the couch. With a momentary appearance from Namjoon with a quick Birthday greeting before he went on his jog.

As I flipped through the options on Netflix with Tae asleep with his head in my lap, Hoseok’s phone rang which he picked up and answered in his office down the hall. Yoongi and I gave a brief glance at each other figuring it was probably from work before Hoseok quickly ran out of his office and out the front door as though the house was on fire.

We look at each other again before quickly getting off the couch to follow him. Taehyung whines in protest as he loses the warmth of my lap before climbing back onto the couch and quickly falling back asleep.

Hoseok goes over to our neighbor’s house, lifting his arm up to knock on the door when Jungkook opens it with a “Thank God!”

“I thought you said he’d be fine here.” Hoseok says as he follows Jungkook into his living space noticing the low growls of Sooyun coming from within. He hesitates a moment before seeing why Sooyun is making that noise.

He quickly gets his answer as he sees Sooyun with teeth bared at a cowering figure in the corner. He realizes her aggression is toward his Birthday gift for Y/N. While he knew that Y/N was easily loved by Taehyung and Namjoon, they weren’t necessarily her hybrids. Tae belonged to Yoongi and Namjoon was Hoseok’s, who he adopted at the first chance after that fateful day he walked into the hybrid lab by accident. So he figured Y/N needed her own companion and it gave him an excuse to bring home another rescue.

“Well aren’t you going to do something.” He says to Jungkook, calmer than he felt.

“Me? He’s your hybrid.” Jungkook says incredulously.

“Technically he isn’t a hybrid.”

“Then what is he?” Yoongi says behind Hobi, scaring his younger boyfriend in the process. I stand beyond them watching Jungkook’s normally sweet hybrid looking like the true predator she is before moving my eyes to the other hybrid--or rather not hybrid--sitting in the corner with his knees up to his chest. My heart instantly breaks at the sight in front of me and I feel the need to protect him.

“Hey! Enough.”

My voice is loud and clear. Commanding but not violent, just enough to get Sooyun’s attention. A skill I learned at all my years volunteering at the rescue. She backs away and hides behind Jungkook as though she hadn’t done anything wrong to be treated this way. Jungkook pats the hand she rests on his arm, clutching onto his shirt sleeve. White ears pinned back to her equally pure white hair.

I take that time to move to her victim. Taking slow movements making sure not to scare him even more. “Hello.” I say getting him to look up at me with his light grey eyes. He has soft features but an intense gaze. I reach my hand out to help him off the floor. He hesitates before deciding to trust me and stands up into his full height. He isn’t large but he is taller than me, about the same size as Yoongi.

“Hobi! What is he?” Yoongi repeats himself looking from me in the corner over to his boyfriend.

“He’s a shifter.” Hoseok mumbles, hand rising to scratch the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry. What?”

“He’s a shifter! Okay. I adopted our girlfriend a shifter for her birthday.”

It gets suddenly very quiet. I look back over at the shifter in question, his hand still in mine. Yoongi is visibly getting angry, but still trying to remain somewhat calm.

“What the fuck is a shifter, Hobi? Like a werewolf. Did you bring home a werewolf?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Werewolves aren’t real. He’s a snow leopard shifter.”

For the genius Hoseok actually was he could really do some dumb things, I think as Yoongi comes towards us and pulls me away but not with some resistance from the other person holding my hand. Yoongi drags me aways while also grabbing Hoseok by the shoulder to guide us outside.

Once we step into the front yard, Yoongi turns Hobi around to look at him but doesn’t let me go.

“You know you’ve done some stupid shit in the 9 years we’ve been together, but this might easily top the list. I mean what the hell were you thinking! Where do you even get a snow leopard shifter?”

“The same place I got Taehyung and Namjoon. Just there was more paperwork involved and lots of background checks. And possibly some surveillance on the house for a week or two.” He throws the last part in quickly as though we won’t notice that he agreed to have us be watched by a government entity without getting our consent first.

“He’s going back.”

“What?! No!” This protest comes from me this time. I don’t know what a shifter is, but I do know some of what happens in the labs and he isn’t going back if I have anything to say about it.

“Yes. He. Is.” Yoongi states, as though the decision is final and begins to walk back toward the house only to stop halfway when he realizes none of us are following.

“We can’t keep him.” He states again.

“But why not?” Hobi and I pout at the same time.

Usually if one of us goes against Yoongi we don’t stand a chance at winning, but if we team up together then things inevitably go our way.

“He’s probably dangerous. I mean I still don’t know what he really is.” He stares at Hoseok on this last point.

“Shifters are what the military attempted after the hybrid experiment failed. Essentially, through their research they found that though hybrids are stronger than humans they still aren’t as strong as a real true animal. But you can’t fully control or command an animal, especially not a predatory animal like a tiger or lion…”

“Or a snow leopard.” Yoongi offered.

“Right. Anyways, there was a researcher about thirty years ago who thought what if you could create a breed of human that could, when needed, shift into full animal form. Lots of people laughed at him for this, but that didn’t stop him from running experiments on his own before a top personnel in the government decided to back him on his research. It didn’t take him long, about five years before he got his first successful generation of shifters. Listen, I know you don’t like it Yoongi and you probably think he’s dangerous. But he’s been kept in that lab his whole life. And I promise you that we have nothing to fear with him. In fact, shifters are much safer than hybrids.” Hoseok added as a last minute plea.

Yoongi slowly let out a sigh. “Fine. But…” he quickly adds before Hobi and I get too excited. “If anything happens to a member of our household because of him, then he has to go somewhere else.”

“You have my word that nothing will happen.”

I grab Yoongi and Hobi into a hug in my excitement. “So what’s his name?”

“Jimin.”

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twinkluffy · 5 years

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fanfics for quarantine with α!katsuki x Ω!izuku.

Hiya, my fellows shippers. I know quarantine is being hard to everyone for different reasons but i hope you can stay safe at home. If you have to be outside for work or to work with/for people, thank you so much for your hard work and it is deeply appreciated.

In this occasion it’s my pleasure to bring you all a fanfic recommendation list of Alpha/Omega KatsuDeku that i loved on AO3. So buckle up, gather everything you need for this wild ride because this gonna be a long post and this just the first part, sisters. Friendly reminder that every person writes their own rules for their omegaverse. It goes without saying that most of this post is+18 rated filth (and i did let out some nasty things that would make most of you don’t hold a face to face conversation with me without kinkshaming me) but even with that the sexual content is gonna have a bolded +18 beside the tittle; and as the old saying goes: read the damn tags on the fic, they are there for a reason.

The links, rating, state and summary under the cut. Please, feel free to reblog and like or to come to my dms just to talk or ask for a type of fic in specific. I’ll post part 2 of this soon.

drag me to the deeps of your heart (+18) by halcyonwhispers [one shot, 5945 words // 1/2 from “The (im)proper way to an Alpha-Omega courtship” series ]

Everyone presents on their 17th birthday, and while Katsuki has already (alpha, big fuckin’ shocker), he awaits his boyfriend’s presentation to finally get over the nonexistent (slight) curiosity over Izuku’s new rank. He can’t be an alpha, not crybaby, overthinking Deku. Anyways, both his parents are betas, and all that genetic and biology shit says Deku’s bound for that road. (he thinks)

Gravity (+18) by warschach [complete, 71477 words, 10 chapters]

Izuku is back in his hometown and plenty hasn't changed much from the 8 years he was gone. Except, Katsuki Bakugou, the alpha king of their small town. He's hotter- because that's fair, right, God? -, stronger, a now-famous pro fighter, and noticeably nicer this round. Not that he cares, pfft.

Ha, Izuku Midoriya caring about Katsuki Bakugou, thinking he's pretty cute and not half bad once you get past the asshole persona; though that gargantuan ego of his could take a dive off a very tall cliff. (Fine, he cares.)

what’s mine is mine (+18) by xenodickery [one shot, 5504 words // 1/3 from the “what’s mine is mine” series. Implied r*pe not related to the pair]

Bakugou watched, fists shaking in his lap, as someone pried open Midoriya's mouth and placed the pink tab on his tongue. An aphrodisiac. At least that's what they'd called it. A heat compellant.

Marshmallow by choimarie [one shot, 3359 words // part of the 2k18 bakudeku week]

“Yo! Look at what we have here!” A voice said loudly and Izuku's heart stopped.

He turned around, his eyes widening. A group of six alphas was walking his way towards him.

What’s is this? The beginning of a porn0? (+18) by JijiHadidnt [2 chapters, 4625 words]

“Did somebody order a pizza?”

“What is this? The beginning of a porno?”

“Shut up Nerd just let me in.”

Izuku and Bakugou handle their argument over celebrity crushes in an interesting way.

A nest for the best by Camellia_Sinensis [one shot, 1007 words // Part of the “dorks in love” series]

Deku’s been nesting and asking everyone in 1-A for pieces of clothing for his horde. Everyone, that is, except Katsuki. Cue the jealousy.

where i feel you the most (+18) by shousanki [one shot,3899 words]

In which Katsuki comes 1) to terms with Izuku's screwy biology almost as unpredictable as the person himself, and 2) down Izuku's warm and willing throat.

the last dragon-blood king (+18) by claimedbydaryl [complete, 13 chapters, 107.009 words]

Katsuki Bakugou was the alpha heir to a forgotten throne, reigning lord and warden of the Fyre Isles, a famed warrior of vicious repute in the Western Seas, and he would be wed to Izuku Midoriya by the day’s end.

Project: heat (+18) by ellslane [one shot, 2914 words]

Katsuki can do this. He can control himself around Deku, who’s scent has spiked in sweetness and is dripping in pheromones. He can maintain his composure as they work together on a school project. He can keep himself in check as his stupid smell wafts through the air, and directly into his nose.

He can’t do this.

Dessert before dinner (+18) by Morpheel [one shot, 3473 words]

Ground Zero has his work cut out for him as of late.

Between his increased Hero workload, and a pregnant mate at home, there's very little time to slow down and "smell the roses", as they say. He's too busy fighting the rampant crime rate going wild throughout the city without their Pillar of Justice on duty for 9 months. Yet leave it up to Izuku to find his own way in squirming some quality time in before Katsuki's shift.

Emergency contact (+18) by SurelyHeavenWaits [one shot, 3753 words]

There are some things in life that a person would like to know in advance:

weather forecasts, patrol schedules, patrol routes, being listed as an ERC for the person they've secretly loved for most of their life. Pro Hero Deku knew three of these things at the start of his shift.

Blonde haired bunnies (+18) by morpheel [one shot, 5194 words]

In an attempt to create a new genetic pattern in the Rabbit-Hybrid Gene, Izuku Midorya is paired with a very strange (and almost unorthodox) stud. The end goal is blonde haired, red eyed rabbits- though only one Alpha truly fits that bill.

Surely a wolf and a rabbit can't breed?

Late mornings (+18) by Oilux [one shot, words]

When Deku arrives, late for class, panting, red stained cheeks, every alpha in the class staring at him with open want, Bakugo only has one thought crossing his mind.

He’s mine.

Vitality in postpartum (+18) by ellslane [one shot,2989 words]

Katsuki can tell his husband has been dealing with his image after giving birth to their precious boy, and he's hellbent on making Izuku see the perfection he sees. Happy husband, happy life, after all.

Box (+18) by SurelyHeavenWaits [one shot, 3028 words]

On a stakeout for a villain with what's been reported as a lust-inducing Quirk, Pro Heroes Ground Zero and Deku find themselves boxed into a dire situation.

I’m so glad i found my mate today by kittiegirl1616 [oneshot, 2123 words]

Pro-Hero Ground Zero has captured a villain when he senses his mate is nearby.

whatever you’ve done, just bury (+18) it by ikvros [complete, 3 chapters, 18.593 words]

He knows how Katsuki thinks, talks, and fights. He knows how he sleeps, how he eats, how he loves, and how he leaves. And he knows what knows what it means for Katsuki to come back; has washed the evidence from the sheets countless times, scrubbed the scent of him off his skin in the morning until it’s as red and raw as his heart.

Their home (+18) by Veradiciy [one shot, 2694 words]

There was nothing wrong with parking the car inside their garage. Nothing wrong with turning off the ignition and locking the car while still inside. Not even when the sensory light of the garage had went out a minute later to leave darkness at its wake. Having sex comes naturally between a mated couple like Bakugou and Midoriya in the late night during the start of Midoriya's heat.

Please scent me by fleurown [one shot, words]

In which Deku needs a quick favor at a party and Katsuki can't deny such a cute face.

eternity by PepeermintLeo [one shot, 9.724 words]

Izuku was Kacchan’s partner, in every sense of the word. He ruled right next to Kacchan’s side, an alpha and an omega, leading Kacchan’s tribe against all sorts of odds. As well as his romantic partner, steady and solid by his side but giving when emotions called for it.

Uncertainty by SuperiorDragonLord [one shot, 5129 words]

Izuku was getting worried. After a particularly rough rescue mission, Katsuki had yet to even have a full conversation with him. Tensions are running high and Izuku is starting to get tired of walking around on eggshells. When he finally decides to confront Katsuki about it things take a direction he hadn't been prepared for.

Devil in me (+18) by glamour_weebs [oneshot, 1699 words]

Katsuki's usually the one getting into fights over Deku when they go to the club, but this time, his Omega's the one that starts a fight over him, but he doesn't stop there. Deku's determined to mark his territory.

if you can’t find the moning light, i’m here tonight by yabakuboi [oneshot, 3488 words]

Katsuki was never sure what happened to his childhood friend, quirkless Izuku who had presented as an omega and was whisked away to a traditional matchmaking house. Katsuki never saw him again after that, and tried to convince himself it was for the best. Many lonely years pass before he finds Izuku in the last place he ever wanted to, in the middle of a battlefield with a child clutching to his shirt.

Earned it (+18)by Morpheel [one shot, 6038 words]

Because within the illumination of lantern light stood a brothel’s worth of Omegas, all in various states of disarray, giggling and washing themselves without a care in the world to the army in their path.

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Say it again by susurrxus [one shot, 7153 words // Part of the (incomplete) “Mina Ashido approve of this ship” series]

Katsuki discoveres he doesnt quite oppose to being called Daddy... nor does he oppose to abusing his Omega until he's a sobbing whore on the teachers desk.

#fanfic rec #fanfic recommendation #omegaverse #abo #katsudeku #bakudeku #bakuizu #bkdk positivity #bkdk #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x deku #bnha #mha #ao3 #archive of our own

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hpdailydeviant · 5 years

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It's time to decide whose naughty birthday wishes you'd like to make come true! Below you'll find a numbered list of all the wishes submitted by our members. As is par for the course around here, there's a huge variety: het, femslash, and slash from every generation, romantic themes to dark ones, and, of course, loads of different kinks. They range from a little bit naughty to thoroughly filthy. Something for everyone! In order to make a claim, simply reply to this post and tell us the number of the wish you'd like to fulfill. Comments are screened to preserve anonymity. Each wish can be claimed only once, and as they're taken they'll be struck off the list. We'll be monitoring the post closely and crossing out wishes as they're claimed. If the prompt you pick has already been taken, we'll let you know right away; otherwise you can assume you got the wish you wanted. Members you have a 24 hour "head start" to make your claims before watchers join in. Watchers: a post will go up at 12:00 pm (U.S. Eastern time) tomorrow (January 10th) to let you know you may begin claiming wishes. Also note: If all of the wishes appear to be disappearing before the member period is over, don't panic! We have ways to make plenty of options available if and when the need arises. Note about dealbreakers: You might see a lot of "SPEW" scattered amongst the dealbreakers. That's our acronym for "the usual" hard kinks: Scat, necroPhilia, Emetophilia, and Watersports. This is not intended as a value judgment regarding "good" or "bad" kinks (although it is meant to be at least a tiny bit funny...); it's just an attempt to save space on the (already quite long!) list of wishes. Completed pieces are due by Monday, March 28 and should be emailed to [email protected]. Fic must be a minimum of 1,000 words and art must be a completed piece. Both fic and art must merit at least an R rating. No crossovers permitted. Watchers: your pieces must fit into a single IJ post. The mods reserve the right to refuse any fic that contains significant SPAG problems or art that appears to be a last-minute slap-dash sketch, so be sure to plan ahead and find a reliable beta. Headers for both fic and art will become available a little closer to April. We're super excited about our Banging Birthday, and we're looking forward to seeing loads of fantastic, kinky work to celebrate ten years of smut! The Banging Birthday Wish List 1. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Severus/Draco or Remus/Regulus Kinks/Themes: UST, Longing, Lost love Tone: Melancholy to hopeful Dealbreakers: Unhappy ending, dead characters, usual nos Prompt: Though one or both are long thought dead by the other, a chance meeting gives them a second chance at something beautiful together. 2. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Harry/Pansy or Harry/Hermione Kinks/Themes: Edging for long period before final orgasm, cunnilingus, semi-public sex Tone: Romantic, sexy, some humour (always up for a good banter) Dealbreakers: Dub/Non-Con, non-sexual body fluids/solids, dirty talk (sexy banter, yes... gratuitous dirty talk, not so much) Prompt: Surprise party (for anyone, doesn't have to be the main pairing) at the Three Broomsticks and someone has an itch they can't scratch 3. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Albus Severus Potter/James Sirius Potter Kinks/Themes: Fuck or Die Tone: Sexy, angsty... feel free to take this one wherever the muse blows! Dealbreakers: mpreg, death, either character younger than 17 Prompt: He's wanted him forever, but not like this... 4. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Some Combo of Tonks, Ginny, Luna, Fleur, Pansy or Millicent Kinks/Themes: first times, fingering, oral sex, femmeslash, bdsm, corsets, toys Tone: light, fun, romantic Dealbreakers: Het, mentions of any previous male partners (including "Character X doesn't love me, so I guess I'll be with you now"), infidelity Prompt: Character A has had her eye on Character B for a while. Finally her feelings are requited. 5. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Harry/Severus, Harry/Remus, Harry/Sirius Kinks/Themes: Fingering / First Time Tone: Filthy and Feelsy. Dealbreakers: Any reference to marriage, kids or pregnancy. Would prefer Harry to be 18+ Prompt: Harry never really understood why anyone would want fingers up their arse, but he think he's been starting to get it. 6. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Harry/ any of Rabastan Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, or Thorfinn Rowle Kinks/Themes: Dub-con, spanking, bondage, orgasm delay, desperate!Harry who shouldn't want it, but really does. Feel free to include a threesome if the mood strikes you! Tone: Dark and sexy Dealbreakers: Rape, death Prompt: Voldemort won the war. He isn't averse to sharing his prize. 7. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Harry/Draco Kinks/Themes: Praise kink. Tone: Dark. Sultry. Royal. Dealbreakers: Orgasm Denial. Daddy!kink. HET. Cheating on Ginny. Prompt: Harry is often unsure of himself as an adult. He lives the life he's expected to and is a sought after bachelor but there's just something about him and he loves paying for it. (Financial or otherwise - up to the creator.) 8. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Ginny/Pansy or James Sirius/Scorpius or Lucius/Narcissa. Kinks/Themes: (Semi-)Public Sex Tone: fun/romantic/dirty Dealbreakers: non-con Prompt: It's one way to make the [event] interesting. 9. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Ron/Draco Kinks/Themes: Polyjuicing, "Anonymous" sex Tone: Post-war melancholy, but hopefully avoiding full-on angst Dealbreakers: The usual squicks Prompt: In the Muggle world, with a different skin, they can be whoever they want to be. (Or, Ron and Draco initially hooked up at a Muggle club under the guise of polyjuice/glamour/etc., when both were running from various post-war-ness, and just...haven't seen a reason to stop doing so. Whether or not either of them realizes who each other really is is up to you.) 10. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Minerva McGonagall/Albus Dumbledore Kinks/Themes: UST -> RST. (almost) student/teacher Tone: Hot... soul-searching... hot Dealbreakers: Bodily fluids not usually associated with sex Prompt: Hogwarts, 1940s. Minerva McGonagall is in her final year and is Head Girl. Professor Albus Dumbledore is the Head of Gryffindor House. The attraction between them is becoming almost unbearable, but they are determined to wait until Minerva graduates. Can they? Will they? ...What then? 11. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… anonymous/stranger hookups Character(s)/Pairing(s): Teddy Lupin/James Sirius Potter (or Teddy/Harry) Kinks/Themes: Teddy using metamorphmagus abilities to look like someone else, established relationship, consensual/negotiated kink, roleplaying sorta? Tone: sexy, fun, letting off steam from their high stress jobs Dealbreakers: rape, MCD, scat Prompt: James likes to be picked up by anonymous men in bars. Teddy likes to be those men ― and lucky for both of them, he can change how he looks each time. 12. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Harry/Draco/Bill Kinks/Themes: knotting/bondage, A/B/O dynamics Tone: dirty, dirty, messy, filthy, loud Dealbreakers: poc Harry, top Harry for this prompt, character bashing. Prompt: Both Bill and Draco are desperate to breed and knot Omega Harry. Harry is only too eager to please. :) (established H/D please) 13. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Fleur/Tonks Kinks/Themes: Oral sex, fingering Tone: Sexy, flirty, romantic Dealbreakers: Non-con, dub-con Prompt: Tonks has always loved that her birthday is in the spring. 14. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Sirius/Severus, Remus/Severus, Sirius/Remus (any era is good -- Marauders era, post-war they lived!AU, afterlife, whatever) Kinks/Themes: dirty talk/vocal partner (I'm looking for lots of "need to feel you", "that's so good", random cursing, semi-coherent babbling sort of stuff from a character who can't seem to put a sock in it.) Bonus if it's the first time for the pairing. Tone: Hot. Humor is good. But yes, mostly just hot. Dealbreakers: non-con, excessive schmoop, ABO dynamics Prompt: Character A really shouldn't have been surprised that Character B was so vocal during sex. He never shut up any other time, so why would this be any different? Or conversely: Character A was normally so reserved/careful with his words that his behavior during sex caught Character B completely off guard. (Really, go anywhere you like with this...) 15. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Neville + Anyone Kinks/Themes: BDSM Tone: Dom Neville just getting what he wants, hot dirty talk would be great Dealbreakers: non-con, bodliy fluids (except come ofc) Prompt: Neville knows how to wield a sword and a whip 16. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Teddy/Louis Kinks/Themes: age difference, virgin/inexperienced partner, first times, teasing, dirty talk, top!Teddy/bottom!Loius or switching Tone: sexy, romantic, filthy, loving, sweet, humorous, guilty, dirty/hot/wrong, ANY-except nothing too dark Dealbreakers: infidelity, extreme mindfuck, unhappy ending Prompt: After Teddy and Victoire split, Louis makes his move. 17. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Harry/Draco or James Sirius/Teddy Kinks/Themes: Workplace Sex Tone: Dirty, sexy Dealbreakers: Hardcore BDSM Prompt: One member of the pairing surprises the other at work 18. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… A surprisingly good time Character(s)/Pairing(s): Severus Snape/Petunia Evans Kinks/Themes: virgins Tone: any Dealbreakers: bdsm Prompt: Petunia can't help but be attracted to magic, and Severus can't help but be attracted by opportunity... 19. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Ron/Harry Kinks/Themes: D/s dynamics Tone: Sweet and smutty! Dealbreakers: infidelity, hermione/ginny bashing, rape/non-con, mpreg Prompt: It's the summer after the war and Harry isn't doing so well. He can't seem to shut off his mind, continuously steeped in grief and guilt. He needs somebody to take care of him and help him find some peace, if only for a little while. Ron steps up. 20. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Draco/Theodore Kinks/Themes: Frottage, Blow jobs, crossing the line between friendship and lovers Tone: Sexy Dealbreakers: Dub/Non-Con, non-sexual body fluids/solids, dirty talk (sexy banter, yes... gratuitous dirty talk, not so much) Prompt: Post-war and one or both are teaching at Hogwarts, supervisory rounds lead to steamy happenings in either the Quidditch showers or prefect's bath. 21. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Captain: Harry, Severus, Rodolphus, Sirius Black; Cabin Boy: Draco, Albus Severus, Scorpius, Teddy Kinks/Themes: Roleplaying Pirate and cabin boy for fun Tone: Happy, D/s Dealbreakers: Usuals, unhappy ending. Prompt: He's the captain, and it's time to teach his cabin boy his place. 22. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Any older woman femslash. Specific pairings I love are Molly Weasley/Rosemerta, Minerva/any female Hogwarts staff member, Narcissa/Lily but if those don't appeal choose your own! Kinks/Themes: Multiple Orgasms Tone: Sexy, Playful and I wouldn't say no to a Sexual/Queer Awakening slant if that's your cuppa (no worries at all if not) Dealbreakers: Pregnancy, Marriage, Kids Prompt: She had always thought sex was good but didn't realise it could be this good. If you are more inspired by a first time orgasm angle that's also fine! 23. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Sirius/Harry/Draco Kinks/Themes: Jealousy. Tone: It's all about Draco. Dealbreakers: Orgasm denial. Prompt: For his 30th birthday, Harry goes to a sex club. He doesn't expect a) Sirius to be there. b) Draco Malfoy sucking Sirius's cock. [Happy ending for all three] (In contrast, Harry doesn't expect Sirius to be rimming Draco.) 24. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Bill Weasley/Nymphadora Tonks/Charlie Weasley Kinks/Themes: threesome, bdsm, "directing", under the influence/loss of inhibitions, role playing, pegging, oral sex, light discipline, gender fluidity (Tonks)* Tone: light, fun, romantic, humour is okay but not all out crack Dealbreakers: M/M or M/M/M, hardcore Weasleycest (some touching/interaction is fine, but no declarations of romantic love between the boys), Tonks being excluded from the fun, Tonks morphing into a biological male, A/B/O Prompt: A night of partying leads Bill, Tonks and Charlie to play. Tonks/one of the Weasleys are in a relationship, he is the one who directs Tonks/the other brother in whatever they're doing, then joins in. *I'm fine with Tonks presenting herself as androgynous/non-binary or more masculine while playing, but never as completely male. 25. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Snape/Moody, Scrimgeour/Moody, Snape/Sirius, Snape/Remus, Ron/Viktor Kinks/Themes: rough sex, struggling for dominance -- feel free to include any of: biting, hair pulling, a bit of bondage, difference of opinion regarding exactly who is the bottom here (*snerk*), shoving of people against various surfaces Tone: hot, hot, a little bit dirty, and hot Dealbreakers: non-con/dub-con, outright humiliation, hard BDSM, felching Prompt: The taunts and insults always get their blood flowing and their hackles up. More than just their hackles, actually... 26. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Harry/Charlie Kinks/Themes: Voyeurism/exhibitionism Tone: Humorous, sexy Dealbreakers: Non-con, dub-con, underage Harry Prompt: Charlie knows Harry’s watching him. 27. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Harry/Draco Kinks/Themes: (Semi-)Public sex Tone: Sexy Dealbreakers: Hardcore BDSM Prompt: They just can't wait any longer 28. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Sirius/Remus Kinks/Themes: First times, Loss of virginity Tone: Quirky, humorous, "realistic" sex and relationship dynamics Dealbreakers: The usual squicks Prompt: They’ve been planning to shed their virginity together on Valentine’s Day. A romantic evening, sharing such a private and special moment. What could go wrong? Well, apparently…everything. (Preferably seventh year. Could be established relationship, or could be just a pact between “friends" *winkwink* that turns into realizing feelings.) 29. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Severus Snape/Horace Slughorn Kinks/Themes: gainer/encourager; cross-gen Tone: Happy, indulgent, sexy Dealbreakers: Bodily fluids not usually associated sex Prompt: Maybe it's the lack of stress, maybe it's actually having a life, but Severus Snape is surprised to find that after the war, he's gaining weight. He's even more surprised to find that he likes it... is turned on by it. Now all he needs is an enabler - and he can't imagine anyone could be better than a certain older colleague with a penchant for crystallised pineapple, ice-cream sundaes, indulgent sex and plump boys... 30. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Harry/Draco w/Hugo, Oliver/Marcus w/Percy, Draco/Theo w/Blaise Kinks/Themes: Voyeurism, wanking Tone: Sexy, dirty Dealbreakers: Rape, mental health issues, death. Prompt: He knew they were together, but had never thought he would actually see them. 31. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… face sitting Character(s)/Pairing(s): Teddy/Lavender, Pansy/Harry, Ginny/Pansy Kinks/Themes: hookups, intimate but not romantic, “we shouldn’t but we’re going to” Tone: sexy, fun, letting off steam Dealbreakers: MCD, scat, under 18 Prompt: Two drinks, and they always end up here 32. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Draco/Severus or Draco/Rabastan or Draco/Antonin. Kinks/Themes: Sex for protection/bdsm Tone: darkish/sexy/angsty Dealbreakers: Scat, non-con (dub-con's fine) Prompt: He only has one thing to offer. 33. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Any in lightning gen, would prefer Ron being cuckolded, but I'm not picky Kinks/Themes: cuckolding Tone: dirty and maybe a bit romantic? Dealbreakers: non-con, would love the cuck to be into it please, and give their consent Prompt: Either at home or a club, maybe they're celebrating a birthday with a special present 34. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Harry/Draco Kinks/Themes: genderbending Tone: Filthy and romantic Dealbreakers: top Harry for this prompt. Prompt: Harry has always wanted to know what it's like... and so does Draco. (you can decide what 'it' is) 35. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… brains and beauty Character(s)/Pairing(s): Minerva McGonagall/Madam Rosmerta Kinks/Themes: wanking Tone: any Dealbreakers: bdsm Prompt: why did they wait so long? 36. This Banging Birthday I Wish For… Character(s)/Pairing(s): Harry/Draco Kinks/Themes: Sex for money, maybe some D/s, dirty talk, a bit of serving, enthusiastic bottoming, (anal, fingering, oral, frottage, or whatever direction you want to go), bottom!Draco Tone: ANY; sexy, romantic, dirty, sweet, humorous, teasting, ust, angsty/dark is also okay as long as it's also hopeful Dealbreakers: hardcore masochism, indfidelity, extreme mindfuck, unhappy ending Prompt: Draco is a high class escort and his services come as an amenity at a certain high class hotel. He's not expecting Harry to be his next client, but he's up for the challenge. maybe some snarky!Draco who rides a fine line between serving his client and getting what he wants

#dd banging birthday #2.2020 #2020 #mod

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randomminer · 5 years

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HPHM MC X Preferred Ship Questions

Sorry this got a little long in places.

1) Who is your MC preferred significate other?

-Charlie Weasley [[MORE]]

2) When did they start developing feelings for each other?

-sloooowly

-Svari is aro/demi and the typical depictions of romance really make her uncomfortable

-Charlie is aro/ace and while he doesn't usually experience sexual or romantic urges, he does still feel strong connections with companions, in particular Svari

-Svari was the first to realize she may be drawn to Charlie in a way that's "more than friends", but where as many would become a blushing mess upon experiencing a first crush, Svari was terrified

-she didn't know what to do with these emotions and urges that just fell in her lap

-the only people she confided in were her Aunt Minerva, Penny, and Rowan

-at best, she was clumsy with her "flirting", much to her friends' amusement

-to make it worse, Charlie was completely oblivious to her attempts

-she tried shifting her affections to others, Barnaby Lee and Talbot Winger being examples, but her heart always seemed to pull her back to Charlie

-while Svari never lacked confidence in her skills and appearance, she didn't see herself as a worthy match for this young man she had become drawn to

-she had resolved herself to keeping her feelings secret and just being happy for Charlie with whoever he fell for and made him happy

-she tried to convince herself that that would be enough

3) Who confessed their feelings and where did it happen?

-Svari didn't actually voice her feelings to Charlie until well after Hogwarts

-it happened at the Burrow, at a small farewell party for Charlie, a few days before he would actually leave for Romania

-the two were sitting by themselves in the garden and Charlie was excitedly yammering on about dragons and his dream job, talking about a mile a minute

-Svari listened with a strained smile, feeling a bitter sweet ache building in her heart

-Charlie would be leaving and with every sentence, Svari could feel her resolve crumbling away

-midway through one of Charlie's rants, the dam finally burst and Svari basically regurgitated years of suppressed feelings into two minutes, a silent Charlie wide eyed and blindsided

-after much embarrassment, reassuring, and talk, the two decided to give it a shot and see where things would go

4) How long had they had those feelings?

-while Svari had been grappling with her feelings for years, Charlie just kinda stumbled into it and thought "eh, what the hell, could be fun"

-the relationship would be slow, mostly long distance, and little more than hand holding and cuddling when in person, but both were content with that

-Charlie would set his boundaries and Svari would respect them. If either wanted to try something more, it was always with consent from the other

5) Where was their first date to and how did it go?

-neither was very keen on the idea of flowers, chocolate, and dancing under the stars

-they just did what they would do as friends...only now they were more than that

-in this case, they were packing the last of Charlie's things and had lunch

-Svari felt the need to give Charlie a gift to take with him to Romania

-after their "date" she handed him woven leather bracelet similar to her own, but with a poorly made dragon picture burned into the side

-he'd laughed, but was touched

6) What was the most awkward moment they have shared?

-definitely the first kiss

-it was the first Christmas holiday that Charlie had been back since going to the sanctuary

-the remaining Weasley family members and some wizarding neighbors were gathered at a magical pub for a neighborhood Christmas Eve party

-and cheesey as it sounds, Charlie and Svari got caught under the magic mistletoe that had been floating around looking for victims

-Charlie had noticed it first and silently gestured at it with his head

-Svari didn't know where to look, what to do with her hands, was stumbling over her words

- their relationship was still so new, she didn't want to make Charlie uncomfortable, and at the same time was overwhelmed herself

-so imagine her complete surprise when he was the one to gently pull her in by the collar of her jacket, plant a quick but loving smooch on her lips, smile, then got back to the party like nothing had happened

7) When did the curse gang found out about them?

-Svari had talked about her feelings before with her Aunt Minerva, Penny, and Rowan

-Bill has eyes, has been around them all through Hogwarts, and isn't an idiot

-everyone else either found out at Charlie's farewell party or through gossip

8) Do they follow the same career path after Hogwarts or follow different choices?

-Charlie, of course, went to Romania and worked at the dragon sanctuary

-Svari, due to her half-breed status, found it hard to hold a job and mostly stuck around the UK

-she did become part of a group who aid and rehabilitate half breeds and turned humans (it was through this group that Svari met and befriended Remus Lupin) her volunteer work kept her busy and happy

-up until after the Second Wizarding War, they mostly kept in contact via owls, fireplaces, and holidays

-while they would have liked to be closer and seen each other more, each had their own calling.

9) What song(s) describes their relationship with one another?

-"Another Night on Mars" by The Maine

-"You're My Best Friend" by Queen

-"Head over Feet" by Alanis Morissette

10) Do they have any inside jokes with each other?

-the amount of times the two of them and Bill have snuck into the Prefect's Bathroom as a group has become something of a joke

-"going to the toilet, Charlie? Should I grab Bill? Just like old times?"

11) Have they worked together with finding the curse vaults or do they try to convince the other not to endanger themselves?

- To Svari, there isn't a Hogwarts story worth telling that doesn't begin with the words "Charlie and I"

- finding the vaults is no exception

12) When did they have their first kiss?

-see #6

13) Is either of them a member of the quidditch team? Do they root for their house or each other?

-at the current time in Hogwarts Mystery, Charlie is a seeker for Gryffindor and Svari is a beater for Ravenclaw

-they cheer for each other when they are up against other houses, but when it's Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw, they know loser wears winner's house colors the next day and winner buys loser butterbeer

14) Do they participate in any of the same clubs or made any of their own?

-between the vaults, Quidditch, and school? I don't see them being part of clubs anyway

15) Are they reserve about sharing affection or open about it?

-neither has a problem with public displays of affection, but their's are pretty tame in comparison to most of their friends

16) Have they ever had a fight? Was it small or big? How did they solve it?

-any couple who says they'll never have a fight isn't going to last

-fights are hard, but they help a couple grow

-Svari and Charlie are no exception

-one of their larger ones happened while Svari was in the hospital

-while trying to help a couple of half-breed teens who were quickly becoming involved in some bad stuff, Svari had gotten caught up in a battle between aurors and dark wizards

-she managed to get the two teens to safety, but had been hit with several spells and almost died

-she was in St. Mungo's for three weeks

-Charlie had come as soon as he could, but was very angry at the risks she was taking

-going into a dangerous neighborhood, that was a known dark wizard gang's territory, at night, with no back up, to try and talk sense into a pair of teens who probably wouldn't change anyway, was one of the stupidest things she had done

-they had tried to keep a civil conversation, but it esscalated into a loud back and forth about the dangers of both their jobs and the strain it put on both of them

-at one point, Svari felt her "other" form beginning to surface and in frustration threw a small vase of flowers at the wall by Charlie and told him to leave, which he did

-they didn't talk for several weeks, but both were hurting

-after Svari was released from the hospital, but not back to work yet, the two teens came to her for advice and options.

-feeling a wave of relief that these kids were going to be ok, Svari decided to ride the good vibes and go fix things with Charlie

-when she got to the Romanian sanctuary, Charlie was being treated for minor dragon related injuries (at this point I'm thinking it was what would eventually become the shiny burn mark on his arm, as described in the GoF when he first met Harry)

-their reversed positions was a good ice breaker

-they sat outside and just talked for hours

-they agreed that while the worry will always be there, it wasn't right for them to hold the other from following their path

-they would need to be more careful, because they both had someone who would be hurt if something happened to them

-after everything was said, Svari pressed her forehead to Charlie's and told him she loved him for the first time

17) Do they get jealous easy? And if so, who?

You tell me.

-Since Charlie wasn't one for dating, Svari never really had to battle with feelings of jealousy (except maybe with dragons)

-Charlie, on the other hand, would be supportive, but withdrawn

-this wasn't territory he was used to and he may not have entirely understood why he felt upset when Svari was romantically involved with someone else

-he wasn't feeling so much "hey, I love you, and want to be with you forever and always, that should be me with you"

-it was more like when your best friend or a sibling suddenly starts giving all their attention to a girlfriend/boyfriend and you feel left out, betrayed, and conflicted

18) Do they sneak into each other’s dorms without being found?

-not usually, there are much cooler places to hang out in a magical school

19) Have they broken rules to have fun?

-they have snuck into the Forbidden Forest so much that I think the prefects have given up trying to stop them

-"whatever, just don't lose us any house points...and bring a jacket"

20) Who is the most protective between them?

-they are both very protective of each other

-if the situation called for it, either of them would fight like hell for the other

#svari ride #hogwarts mystery #hphm #mc #charlie weasley

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douxreviews · 5 years

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American Gods - ‘Donar the Great’ Review

Shadow: "If I upset you back there…" Wednesday: "It wasn’t you. Ghosts from the past."

American Gods serves up its first unequivocal triumph of the season.

There have been good episodes in season two prior to this one, I want to make that clear. But 'Donar the Great' is the first time all year that I haven't been mentally comparing what I'm watching to the previous season at any point. 'Donar the Great' is, as described, great. Really, really great.

We're told a story in two halves. On the one hand, we're told the story of that time back in the late 1930s when Wednesday was known as Al Grimnir and owned a burlesque club in Chicago. On the other we watch as the present day Wednesday and Shadow continue in their attempt to get Wednesday's spear fixed; a quest in which Lou Reed features to a surprising and delightful degree. Sprinkled between these two plotlines we get a few check-ins with Mr. World and New Media, primarily just to remind us that they're still out there.

Since that strand of the episode is the least of the three, let's talk about that one first. Last week I complained a bit about the fact that they wasted a lot of time getting Shadow and Wednesday to the Dwarf-king so that they could get the spear fixed, only to be told that he couldn't do it and they'd have to go see a different dwarf instead. I said then, and stand by the statement, that this was a huge waste of time in the episode that could have been better spent exploring Samedi and Brigitte.

The same is not true of the side scenes with New Media and Mr. World this week, for a couple of reasons. First, they're far briefer, and so they don't feel as intrusive. Second, and more pertinently, they don't promise a plot development and then at the last second announce that they aren't going to do that after all and, 'oops, I guess we'll have to wait till next week, sorry.' Instead, Mr. World, New Media, and that third guy (who I think is supposed to be someone called 'The Caretaker', if IMDb is to be believed) achieve a few small things and then get out of the episode's way.

First, they establish that Mr. World is making tactical strikes in the coming war; a truck driver killed with a hammer, a lobster tank smashed, etc. Speaking of, if those strikes he references actually refer to something specific that I'm not picking up on, could you please mention it in the comments, because I have nothing. Second, they establish that New Media is 'powering up' somehow by rousing her followers in what I think was Japanese, but could be wrong. Why he needs her to do this we don't yet know. Third, they plant the seed that New Media needs more tech support and that the boys in the valley assure Mr. World that their 'new friend' would be ready 'in time.' I'm just going to say what we're all thinking; they're setting up a new version of Technical Boy, hence keeping Bruce Langley around this week in the flashback. I'm OK with that, if it means more Bruce Langley.

As to the burlesque flashbacks, all I can say is that they were wonderful and I want them to do a touring show so I can go see them live every single night. Ian McShane absolutely crushes his role as Al Grimnir, and I'm very surprised to check out his Wikipedia page and find out that he doesn't have any background in Broadway or musical theater, because he owns it. I wouldn't describe his voice as strong in a traditional sense, but it's just dripping with character and what I can only describe as salesmanship. Someone please cast him as Billy Flynn in a revival of Chicago, sooner rather than later.

It was a good decision to go with the name 'Donar,' rather than the more recognized 'Thor' for Odin's son, by the way. Derek Theler absolutely hits it out of the park, playing a very different take on this god, but it was wise of them to do as much as they could not to invite comparisons with Chris Hemsworth, when what they're doing with that particular god is so vastly unrelated to what Marvel is doing.

What they're doing, as you ask, is a really nice riff on the classic 'boy and girl fall in love and plan to run away together to escape the dire circumstances of their lives, but are tragically prevented from doing so by cruel twists of fate.' There are hundreds of examples of this story, but West Side Story and the stage version of Little Shop of Horrors are the first examples that leap to mind.

Fate, in this case being Mr. Wednesday/Al Grimnir/Odin, who reminds us forcefully in this episode that he's an untrustworthy bastard who will do anything to achieve his own goals. His desire for a new source of worship leads him to destroy both his own son and Columbia, whom he seems to be fond of prior to ruining her.

Lastly, we have Wednesday and Shadow giving a eulogy for shopping malls and conning their way into possession of Lou Reed's jacket, as it's the most powerful object in the mall, and Dvalin the dwarf needs power if he's going to fix the runes on Wednesday's spear. One thing the series has been very clear on is that all of the gods' power comes from belief. Wednesday even explicitly says so this week. With that in mind, it makes perfect sense that Lou Reed's jacket would be a source of power. Wednesday's description of Lou Reed's importance is not wrong. The Velvet Underground's first album is often described as, 'It was purchased by 200 people. And every single one of them went out and formed a band that changed the world.' That sentence is true.

As a bonus, the way they get the jacket,'The Bishop Game' con, is described in the novel in conversation, but it's so much better to see it acted out here, particularly with Shadow being part of it instead of just hearing about it.

Quotes:

Wednesday: "Playing dead convincingly is an underrated skill."

Wednesday: "Dies irm, dies illa, Solvet saeclum in favilla. Teste David cum Sibylla." These are the opening lines of the Requiem Mass, and the amount of contempt that Ian McShane manages to put into them is amazing.

Nancy: "Double up on that nipple tape, Ecdysiasts, nobody comin’ her to see your areolas. It’s Donar’s moose knocker that brings all the boys to the yard."

Nancy: "Get yo’ face out the mirror. Get your ass on the stage. I’m gon’ count to seven. And I’m starting at four!"

Wednesday: "What say you, son of Emir? Want to etch my runes?"

Manfred the Nazi: "We’re an organization with American values, and we see those values in you. Strength, confidence, good breeding. Donnie… what’s your last name?" Donar: "I don’t have one."

Donar: "I accept your proposition, fiend of Germany."

Music store guy: "Want to try this puppy on?" Wednesday: "Is Martin Luther a Lutheran?" Music Store Guy: "…Yes…? I have no idea."

Donar: "Humans serve us, not the other way around."

Bits and Pieces:

-- So Columbia was essentially the first 'Goddess of America', based on how America saw itself in the beginning. That's actually more or less true, by the way. Her name was derived from Christopher Columbus, and it's why the Capitol is Washington District of Columbia.

-- Which means that Donar's sin, from Odin's point of view, was falling in love with America instead of siding with him, and by proxy the old countries.

-- It's implied that due to event here Columbia gave in to Technical Boy (then Telephone Boy) and rebranded herself for the war effort, becoming Rosie the Riveter, hence the presence of that poster behind Donar in his room in 1942.

-- One of the interesting threads this season is the way it's making it clear that the stark delineation between new gods and old gods is basically a load of horseshit. Columbia got replaced by a rebranding of a Roman Goddess, Libertas. Telephone Boy is warned here that eventually the telephone won't be the cool new thing, and we see the beginning of his evolution into Technical Boy. All the gods we see are in a constant process of evolving or withering.

-- That said, we're all agreed that immediately after this Columbia went to Frank-N-Furter's castle and hung out until the '70s, right? Because I need these two properties to exist in continuity with one another.

-- Wednesday's burlesque house is very gay friendly, and is openly acknowledged to be so. This confirms that he just enjoys teasing Ifrit and Salim and isn't particularly bothered or surprised by their relationship. But we kind of knew that.

-- Hello, muscly cowboys.

-- It makes sense that a success for the Nazis would actually have been a plus for Wednesday. As the Wagner we hear tonight reminds us, the Nazis were huge into Norse mythology. Wednesday would have been rolling in belief if they'd won.

-- Sindri the dwarf has a curious reaction when he hears Shadow's name, which we never get an explanation for. Are we going to find out why?

-- Both Derek Theler and Laura Bell Bundy brought it and brought it hard as guest stars this week. I'd happily have either or both back any time.

-- Nobody really believes that Donar committed suicide, right? That shot was very carefully framed so that we saw Donar's hand on the barrel of the shotgun, but did not see the stock or the trigger. We're all pretty much assuming Wednesday pulled the trigger, right?

An absolute gem of an episode. It's not quite 'A Prayer for Mad Sweeney,' but it's very, very close.

Hey, it's the little girl from the first Jumanji film. Yeah, feels creepy now, doesn't it.

Just the tiniest bit under four out of four moose knockers.

Mikey Heinrich is, among other things, a freelance writer, volunteer firefighter, and roughly 78% water.

#American Gods #Shadow Moon #Mr Wednesday #Laura Moon #Mad Sweeney #Mr Nancy #Bilquis #American Gods Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

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laketaj24 · 6 years

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Twisted II: Gangster!M’Baku, Dom!Erik

A/N: Continuation from a Thirst Day Creation! It’s SMUTTY AF. There will be a third part! I hope you enjoy! Black Panther Taglist is open!

Requested: WELL EXCUSE ME! From the Mmmmbaku Tribe, we need to represent! I need my Mbaku as a power bottom today sis. I want him to want me to "take from him" I want him to ask me to ride his thighs and his face and everything else (swoon) – ANON

Hey I saw where you’re taking requests so I have two to offer up if you have a chance: M’Baku with a Breeding Kink. Your writing is always so amazing, I’m exciting to read anything you put out honestly!! - @madamslayyy

Twisted I

Black Panther Masterlist

Work was work, managing the store was your peace during the week. It had been especially peaceful since Erik left the country for a few days. Your employees were all busy moving furniture around and talking on the floor but you sat at your desk reviewing the reports to submit to the regional.

The door chimes and you never get up for it, peeping out the window to see who entered the store. And it’s him. Why in the hell was M’Baku here. You close the blinds and take a deep breath. Maybe if you hid back in the office he would get whatever and leave.

“Y/N. why are you hiding?” He teases leaning against the counter in front of your office. You hadn’t talked to him ever since that night at the club. Erik would flip out if you did. He wasn’t a jealous man but for some reason M’Baku brought it out. He waves and smiles at you. He gestures for you to leave the office and you do fixing your hair momentarily before you leave the office to face him. “I figured your phone must be broke.”

You wave your assistant away walking with him to the middle of the floor. “What are yo doing in here sir?”

“I’m a customer, wow me.” M’Baku sister on the huge leather couch with his legs spread, the khaki pants accentuate his thick legs and the persistent bulge in your pants that demanded your attention. You perch on the couch and look down at him. “I want something brown leather, like this, but bigger.”

“This is the biggest we have in store.” You swallow uncomfortably shifting your eyes back to meet his and notice the cocky grin. “You ain’t slick rolling up in here trying to talk to me M’Baku. I didn’t call or text you back because I have nothing to say. We shouldn’t have, I have a man.”

“I see you with that lame nigga. Look,” He smirks. “I just came to converse and shop with you.”

“Keep it that way. I can go get the catalog an see if what you need is in there.” You head back to your office taking deep breath hoping that your heart will stop pounding against your chest but it doesn’t. It just gets worst when you return with the huge binder. “Which house is this for?”

“The house on the North.” M’Baku flips a few pages. “I was thinking about changing up everything in there. All the white is bad, I might want kids one day and they won’t even be able to go in there.” He cuts his eyes at you. “Where your boyfriend at now?”

“Africa, he had some things come up with his cousin and aunt and he wanted to take care of them.” You clear your throat. “Find anything?”

“Nope, let me take you to lunch? Friendly as venture. You can see the rom I’m talking about changing and you can come right back to work.” M’Baku pauses. “Granted if you were with a real one you wouldn’t have to work.” He laughs. “But it’s all friendly I swear. Food. Check out the house and come right back.”

“I have work to do. I can’t just leave.” You take the book back. “Thank you, ass.”

“Lunch, you the boss ain’t you? Clock out and let’s go. I know you’re hungry. Yo man ain’t even in the country to trip. Get your stuff, I’m not leaving until you come on.” He follows you back to the counter and stands there waving at your red head assistant. “Your boss about to take a break. You got this?”

The assistant nods her head yes and hands you your purse. “Just go. I got it. Never turn down free food.”

The drive is quiet at first, Kendrick plays in the background and you mumble the words under your breath until he starts a conversation. “Why you quiet?”

“What you want me to say?”

“Talk to a nigga, damn.” M’Baku touches your leg playfully and you try to mask your smile but it proves to be pointless. “There your smile go.” He pulls into the driveway of his house and stops the car. “You good with stopping here first?”

“Yeah.” You hop out of the car following him into the one-story house. This was his modest house. It was the house you had more memories with him than any other. You’d lived here with him for a few years and besides the fights every damn memory in this place was sex filled or laughter. If there was one thing he knew how to do was strike a smile from you. He unlocks the door heading down the hallway to his bedroom and you glance at the living room. It used to be deep red and black, but apparently things had changed once you moved out. “The place has changed.” You say touching the pictures he has of you still on the wall.

“Yeah, I had to switch some things up.” M’Baku yells down the hall.

“I see.” You take a seat on the couch admiring what used to be for a second and he heads back into the living room. “You want brown in here?”

“Yeah, something dark. Can’t sleep on this couch.”

“You still stay here?”

“It’s my favorite house. The rest got heavy ass traffic.” He pauses. You didn’t care to hear about his damn drugs and other shit he did. “It feel like home here. So I stay here most of the time. Unless I’m needed else where.”

“You bring women back here?”

“With your fucking picture on the wall?” He smacks his lips together and smiles. “You jealous?”

“No, I don’t have a reason to be jealous. I’m still on your fucking wall.” Your closer to him than you want to be but his closeness is oddly familiar. M’Baku rolls his yes and you laugh. “Still acting like you ain’t got a fucking heart but you’re really a damn teddy bear.”

“Yeah, a hungry ass teddy bear.” He smiles. He pulls you over into his lap and you straddle his thigh looking at his lively eyes. “Why you with that nigga?”

“Don’t start that today. You didn’t want me when you had me and I don’t wanna hear that shit now.” His fingers anchor themselves in the nape of your back and you wind your hips onto his thigh causing a slight ache to your clit. Your lips crash into his and you hear him groan into your mouth satisfied at your actions. Out of habit you start grinding your hips on him. His hands cradle your face watching your ride out your high with closed eyes and parted lips. “How that feel ma? You like that control?” You don’t answer still moving your hips erratically until the small flutters from the friction turn into a huge wave over your body and you fall into his chest kissing him once more. He pushes you back on the couch.

M’Baku large hands spider crawl up your legs reaching your panties in seconds. He plunges a finger into you and one of your legs cradles his body while the other drapes to the floor. “What you want from me?”

“Everything.” You whisper relishing in his movements.

“Fucking take it then.” His fingers still inside you and your eyes widen in shock. But you easily catch onto what he means as you start to wind your hips on his finger and he aids by tapping your g-spot. His free hand pushes you back on the couch and once again he starts thrusting his fingers into you over and over until you’re a mumbling mess. You can’t get the words take t out of your mind as you shuffle to sit up on the couch and then you’re on your knees in front of him unbuckling his belt and then pants. M’Baku places his un on the couch beside him. He frees his dick. It’s curved, long and thick like you remember and you grip him starting with his shaft and pump over the tip.

“Is that what you want ma?”

You don’t answer him taking him in your mouth bobbing up and down, you elate in how he tastes, swirling your tongue around his tips tasting the salty drip of precum already oozing from him. Your hands work just as much as your mouth and he takes notice pulling your hands down and guiding your head down further on him. His hips buck up and he’s at the back of your throat and your gagging on him. You stop coming up for air and he pulls you up to his face. “What else?”

You push him back on the couch. “I want you to taste my cum.” You say with a smug smile on your face. You climb over him throwing the dress to the ground and lowering yourself on his face. M’Baku’s thick tongue starts to work magic on your clit, diving in and sucking then flicking back over it. When he thrusts back into your entrance you begin your riding feeling him fuck you with your tongue was your favorite past time. You lean down placing your hands on his chest you grind your hips onto him. He lifts you licking you from front to back and then licks you over and over until you come. Your body is rigid and taut from the second one of the dy. He licks you still for a few seconds and lifts your body up. M’Baku throws you over his shoulder.

You two are in his room within a few seconds and he places you on the bed. The room was still the exact same. The mirror over the bed and even the comforters. Maybe he wasn’t over you. He climbs over your body peppering kisses up your legs until he meets your face and you can feel him adjusting himself at your entrance. “You gone leave that nigga?” He whispers.

You stare at him bucking your hips up so that he will enter you. He pushes your hips down shaking his head. “M’Baku.” You whine.

“You gone leave that nigga?” He asks again. He rubs his length up your slit and you never answer still trying to chase whatever high you can get. “I bet you will when you carrying my baby huh?”

You try to speak but he pushes into you rocking you further up the bed. Your eyes are hooked over head watching how deep his thrusts are you can even see the dip in his back. He thrusts int you over and over snapping his hips flush against yours and you can barely breathe.

“Ain’t that right? You want daddy to fucking cum in you?” Your nails rake down his back and he continues to fuck you. He’s thick, stretching each time he does. You shake your head yes, confused at all of these emotions taking over your train of thought. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want your fucking baby.” You groan feeling the coil starting all over your baby. “Oh fuck! Fuck!” you scream when they finally over take you. “FUCK!”

“Fuck ma, you biting back like a motherfucker.” He growls still not stopping his fast paced fucking. Your body is weak and you can barely take another stroke Your legs push up on the bed and he snatched you back down to him. “Why you running? Take it.” He growls. He feels bigger as his pace increases and suddenly you cum again on him, gushing out cum all over his sheets. You see him smile as his groans add to your arousal. M’Baku bites his lip. “You want this cum?”

“Yes.” You whimper. “Give it to me.”

And he cums, his back shuttering and legs tensing as he spills into you. This was the best dammn lunch break you’d ever had.

The rest of the work day is pleasant, you sit in your office replaying the senses in your head over and over. You weren’t sure what you were going to do about Erik. You didn’t want to think about it. Your phone vibrates, and you answer on the second ring seeing his face. You hit the facetime button and place your phone at the computer.

“Baby girl, what the word?” Erik smiles.

“Nothing much, just about to shut this place down.” You smile at him trying to hide your guilt. “How is it over there?”

“Hot as fuck. Big ass rhinos everywhere. T’Challa fucking annoying the hell out of me, but good.” He walks out of whatever room he was in walking outside. “Why your hair all fucked?”

“It’s been a long day. The truck came in and then there was so much to do.” You slick back your ponytail. “Good to see you too.” You laugh.

“Man, why the fuck you lying to me?” He says with a smirk. “DO I fucking look stupid to you? I told you that Kody would be looking out for you. Do you think I don’t know about that big ass nigga coming up there? Or you going to his house on the north?” He pauses watching your face change. “I’m every fucking where baby girl. I own fucking half of Long Beach and most of Oakland and you think you can just fuck another nigga again.”

“Erik.” You close your office door picking up your phone. “I told you I didn’t need someone watching me. I told you that I didn’t need all this shit that you have, I didn’t fuck him.” You lie.

“Oh, come the fuck on.” He groans rubbing his hand over his face. “Tell the fucking truth man. You can’t play me. I know what you look like when you just been fucked and that’s cool. Get your fucking nut. You think I don’t know people who can handle shit while I’m gone?” Erik grins. “He’s a damn drug dealer. One call to the right people and he’s done.”

“What the fuck Erik!” You close your blinds. “We can talk when you get back.”

“Nah, we can talk now. And loer your voice talking to me.”

You snap, hanging up the phone. You leave your office. “Guys, let’s get ready to close down the store. Make sure the back is good and make sure that you have all your wo…” Kody walks through the front door of the store staring at you. You clear your throat.

“You gone come the easy way or the hard way?” He says standing in front of you. “But you know why I’m here.”

Your assistant looks at you. “Who is this?”

“My boyfriends body guard.” You hiss. “I have a job I have to do it. Tell him to fuck off.” You say turning and it happens. Kody scoops you up tossing you over his shoulder.

“Why you so difficult?” He groans. “God damn.”

Tagging: @challaxkillmonger @wakanda-inspired@misspooh@valynsia@vanitykocaine@harleycativy@jecourt@virgosapphire79@sparklemichele@theunsweetenedtruth@ahhhhkeya@iamrheaspeaks @thiccdaddy-mbaku@muse-of-mbaku@myboyfriendgiriboy@someareblindtoitsbeauty@brittyevans@almostpurelysmut@readsalot73@ivarsshieldmadien@slimmiyagi@cinnabearice@royallyprincesslilly @hutchj @leahnicole1219 @cancerianprincess @blackpanther-imagines @mbakuslover

#mbaku x reader #marvel #mbaku imagine #mbaku #black panther #black panther fanfiction #black panther fandom #Erik Stevens #Erik Killmonger #erik x reader #njadaka

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thelenssims-blog · 6 years

Photo

With Indigo now soundly inside our house, Noah turned to me and asked what had me so entranced. I had been doing that mile-long stare for a while now. It used to only happen periodically when I thought upon our futures for a little too long, but these days, it was hard to catch me not completely swallowed by the void mid-conversation.

Del Sol Valley. That’s where I would be headed in the next few days. It had been a big shock when I received my admissions decision; not only had I got into one of the most competitive drama programs in the country, I had received a near full tuition scholarship as well. My dad had helped me figure out what I would need for the move and had my bulkier items shipped in advance for my dorm. I would be following them shortly after on the plane ride.

Alone.

While I would be pursuing a degree in performing arts at Del Sol University, Noah would be studying fine arts with a concentration in visual arts at the San Myshuno Institute of Arts. His acceptance letter came in only a day before mine. I added another item on my list of why August sucked: it was when I would be forced to leave my boyfriend behind to go to colleges 3,000 miles apart.

Previous | Next | Beginning

Okay, so I wasn’t really being forced; the reality was that this was my dream. I had been doing school plays since middle school, and from the very first time I got a standing ovation while playing Maria from West Side Story, I knew that I wanted to live in that feeling forever. Becoming someone else on the stage, breathing life into the dialogue, bringing the audience to tears; it felt like I had been made for this. And Del Sol Valley was ground zero for the acting industry. If I wanted to make the best connections, book the best auditions, and live in the best atmosphere for what I hoped would become my career, there was no better place than that sunny, west-coast city where stars were born.

It was similar to how Noah felt about San Myshuno. The Institute was nestled right in the heart of the Arts Center, which had a long history of breeding the most notable creatives in the country, from the historical SanMy Renaissance of the early 20th century, to the rise of street art in the 80s and 90s, to the recently popularized minimalist styles of this century. He would be taking courses instructed by some of the most notable visual artists of the day learning both classical painting with oils, watercolors, and acrylics, and his preferred medium of graphite sketch. I was so happy that he was getting such a huge opportunity, but undeniably heartbroken that it meant we would be living on two sides of the country for most of the year. We’d agreed to stay together; long-distance wasn’t ideal, but neither of us could see not being together anymore. Our love was too perfect to throw away at the first bump in the road. But of course, it still scared me, and it was hard not to let that fear take over especially now that our final days were upon us.

Noah’s soft, warm lips pressed against my cheek brought me back. He had been amazing these past few months, wasting no time to make every moment count. It made my heart ache a little again to think about what a perfect life I was leaving behind. But I also felt warm in his arms. We were gonna make it through this.

Indigo returned after that, carrying not only three beers, but her new camera. It had been a graduation present from our dad and an upgrade from the cheaper digital camera she’d used for her photography club activities up to that point. As psyched as she was to use it, she’d also been extremely careful, afraid of tragedy striking and destroying it before she even moved in to her dorm. She set it down gingerly on the table and then handed us each a bottle.

Ivy: I’m surprised to see you handling that around liquid. I thought you’d keep it in the case for the next four years just out of sheer nerves.

Indigo: Ha ha. I figured it would be a shame not to use it at least once before we leave. I want to get some good shots of us all as we were before college to look back on when we’re graduating.

Noah: What a concept. Actually using your camera to take pictures. [chuckles]

Indigo: On second thought, you can leave.

Noah: You can’t kick me out.

Indigo: It’s my house.

Ivy: And mine.

Indigo: [rolling her eyes] Details, details. You want a nice picture to post to your Simstagrams or not?

Ivy: [giggling] Alright, alright, set up your camera already.

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gukyi · 7 years

Text

earnestly yours | pjm

⇒ summary: it doesn’t matter if you and park jimin hate each other’s guts, because you will always get cast opposite each other for the school’s drama productions, and you will always have to kiss.

⇒ {enemies to lovers!au, high school!au, actor!au}

⇒ pairing: jimin x female reader

⇒ word count: 8k

⇒ genre: fluff

⇒ warnings: none!

⇒ a/n: god was this an impulse write. i actually got the inspiration for this because i hang out with all of the drama kids in school. the play that they’re performing is the importance of being earnest by oscar wilde, and the piece used for the reader’s audition is from all’s well that end’s well by willy shakes.

Park Jimin and you have a… rich history, most might say. One that extends far past the most recent years of your life, down to the beginning of your schooling when the two of you were competing for the role of Peter Pan in your kindergarten play. Both of you were adamant about playing the role, but it sort of goes without saying that the part went to him because ugh, the patriarchy.

Ever since then, things have always been a little tense between the two of you.

Everyone in the drama club knows that the two of you are not to be left alone with each other, despite the fact that you are almost always cast in the lead roles in the school plays and musicals, parts that often times have a romantic notion than not. This makes for a fantastically entertaining drama season, because everyone, especially the directors, find it massively hilarious to see the contrast between out-of-character you and him and in-character you and him. It’s the perfect breeding ground for sexual tension.

Park Jimin is the best actor this school has seen in a decade, that much you will admit. The way he so easily falls into character, becomes anybody the play wants him to be is something that isn’t easy to come across in an actor, but he pulls it off alarmingly well. He brings whatever audience is watching him on a movie, magicks them into a trance where it’s difficult to discern where the character ends and the boy begins, and it even has some of the other characters on stage swooning. You almost wouldn’t be able to tell when he’s in character or when he’s not, almost, if not for the fact that out-of-character Jimin is superbly unbearable and generally makes you want to fight him, an easy characteristic to distinguish between the two.

Kindergarten grudges aren’t supposed to last this long, but that Peter Pan discourse sparked a rivalry that somehow bled into elementary, middle, and high school, a constant competition for who can do it better, even if you’ve stopped auditioning for the same roles.

You have a sneaking suspicion that the drama club plays up your rivalry for the money, because it’s been so longstanding that everyone in the whole school knows about it at this point, is willing to shell out their cash to give to the drama productions just to see the two of you act together onstage. The drama productions aren’t some nerdy thing that only parents and reject students attend, they’re a massive aspect of your schooling, and with you and Jimin almost always snagging the leads, they’re even grander. But it doesn’t matter what the drama club does, because they need all the money they can get, and getting cast across Jimin for practically everything isn’t going to change your feelings about him.

Half the drama kids think that the rivalry is just a shallow cover-up for your true feelings about each other, that after every drama rehearsal where you’re swearing to knock his head off actually ends with the two of you making out in the storage closet, and the other half think that if the fucking directors cast you across from each other in one more show you might both end up bloody and bruised by the final curtain. But it’s your last year, the last spring play you will ever do in high school, and there’s no better way to end it than with Jimin across from you, making you want to knock his teeth out with that charming smile of his.

This year’s auditions are much earlier than they should be, for reasons you can’t really discern. The fall musical ended in November with a bang of Fame, a musical that has a fantastic soundtrack but a plot that is, well, marginal at best. Neither you nor Jimin managed to score the two lead characters, but no matter, because there’s always sexual tension in a New York City performing arts high school, so the directors (and the cast) got what they wanted out of the two of you regardless. But now, it’s January, the spring play is in full swing despite the fact that the final shows aren’t scheduled to be until April, and you and Jimin have things to do and people to see.

Everyone already knows that the two of you will get the leads in this year’s production of The Importance of Being Earnest, so no one really has any clue why you’re both auditioning if the roles are practically set in stone at this point, but no one wants to miss out on some good rival moments between you and Jimin at auditions anyway, so they’re all there.

“Have you read this play, Y/N?” Jimin asks as he crashes into you while you’re walking into the auditorium. The force nearly makes you topple over as you turn your head to him sneering. “There’s lots of making out.”

“Stop lying to me, Jimin. There are like, three scenes and only one of them’s with the leads. Besides, this play is a satirical mockery of traditions of love in the Victorian age, so don’t expect too much from me,” you retort, pushing the door open to see the directors, the rest of the drama club, and a couple of parents as well all staring at you.

“There they are! Our favorite actors,” Taehyung calls out immediately, grinning at the sight of the two of you walking in at the same time, both clearly just having come out of a little spat with each other. “Ready to knock the directors’ socks off?”

“I am, but I don’t know if Jimin has really grasped the full meaning of this play yet,” you say, making all of the other students ‘ooooh’ and wince at your words.

“Oh, Y/N, ever the entertainer,” one of the directors says, shaking his head. “Well, we have auditions for the role of John Worthing and Algernon Moncrieff first, so you can sit down until we have your role called, Y/N.”

“I cannot believe you guys would think I’m not auditioning for the role of Algernon Moncrieff,” you exclaim sarcastically, putting a hand over your chest to represent mock offense. “I’m hurt.”

“Catch you on the flip side, Y/N!” Jimin says, grabbing you by the shoulders and planting a firm kiss on your cheek, one that has everyone in the room, including you, gasping in shock.

“Park Jimin!” You shriek loudly, your voice echoing throughout the theater, but he’s already off, following the directors up onto the stage, with a wave, one that has you fuming.

“He really got you there,” Taehyung, Jimin’s best friend and most often his right-hand man in almost every single play thus far (Taehyung doesn’t do musicals, according to him), says as he comes up to you, flinging his backpack into the seat behind you as he settles down in the seat that you were about to take. “You better come up with something good to put him in his place.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be rooting for him?” You ask, an eyebrow quirked as you put your bag into the seat next to him before Taehyung can start manspreading all over the place, taking up five seats so that he and Jimin don’t invade each other’s personal bubbles when they sit near each other.

“Technically yes, but I always love seeing the two of you fight. It brings all of us so much joy.”

“It’s also why none of you voted for either of us to be on the drama club officer board.”

“Y/N, we all love you here in drama club, but if you and Jimin ended up as officers, we’d never get anything done,” Taehyung says, and he’s absolutely correct. The drama club finds your rivalry with him entertaining and exciting, but any time where the two of you have to work with each other off stage is a bad idea straight from the get go. Still, you are a bit offended.

“How dare you think I can’t be civil around him,” you chide.

“Last year for the school play you literally said during rehearsal, while everyone was watching, ‘Park Jimin if you mess up your one line in this entire scene one more time, I will enter your house while you are sleeping and pour Legos all over your bedroom floor for you to step on the following morning’.”

“I can be civil enough,” you say, face heating up at the receipts Taehyung is whipping out.

“Sure,” Taehyung nods, and by the time your conversation comes to a halt, Jimin is on stage, donning a monocle for no reason in particular—literally no reason. Jack Worthing doesn’t wear a monocle. He’s like, twenty-five—ready to say his lines.

“We’re ready whenever you are, Jimin!” The one director shouts from below. Jimin shoots a finger gun his way, takes a deep breath, and begins to recite lines from a play that isn’t this one, because of course Jimin just has to go out of the box like that for his last high school audition ever. Of course.

As per usual, Jimin’s pretty fucking amazing at the audition—he always is, mind you, a little rivalry isn’t going to change that—and he’s got most of the audience with their jaws dropped to the floor in awe, the only one who isn’t charmed by his acting ways you. When the monologue is over, Jimin and you meet eyes like a lover searching for his betrothed in the sea of people below him, and he grins, boxy and insufferable, almost as if to say, “Top that.”

“Thank you, Jimin,” the director calls into the mic, tapping it a couple of times to make sure it’s hooked up to the auditorium sound system. Jimin bows melodramatically, because of course he does, sending a kiss into the audience that has that one cluster of freshmen girls in the corner swooning. Oh, how trivial young love is. “Next up for the role of John we have—”

“Wait! Mr. Kim, Mr. Kim,” you shout, standing up quickly and waving your hand, getting the directors’ attention.

When you turn back to Taehyung, his brows are furrowed and mouth wide open in shock, mouthing to you, what the hell are you doing?

“Y/N,” the director says, turning to you, “is there something we can help you with?”

You look up at the stage, where Jimin stands smirking, like he’s waiting for whatever show you’re putting on, tapping his food with his hands on his hips. Panting, you say to the directors, “I’d like to audition now.”

“Y/N, auditioning for the role of Gwendolen isn’t until later—”

“Please, Seokjin? Can I just do this?” You ask, referring to the one director by his first name, because you guys have been on that type of basis since sophomore year. He’s one of those directors.

Seokjin turns to the other two directors, muttering quietly so the microphones don’t pick up their words. After a solid thirty seconds of debate, they turn back to you, and Seokjin motions for you to take the stage.

“Do you need a script?” Seokjin calls.

“No,” you respond as you push yourself up onto the stage, dusting off your pants as you look Jimin dead in the eye. “I don’t need one.”

“Shall I get out of your way, m’lady?” Jimin asks sarcastically, tipping his head forward to imitate a gentleman. He takes a couple steps back before you stop him, forcing him to stay onstage as you take a deep breath. There’s only one monologue you’ve ever committed to heart, and thank God you haven’t used it as an audition piece before. This isn’t necessarily something you’ve done before.

“Then, I confess,” you begin, staring Jimin down as you let the emotion take over your words, ripping them from you and placing them in the character’s mouth instead. “Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, that before you, and next unto high heaven, I love your son.”

Jimin’s stopped standing like he owns the building, rules the stage like a damn king. His arms have come uncrossed and his expression has grown softer as he takes in the monologue you are beginning, one that you know he recognizes and understands.

You take a tentative step towards him as you continue. “My friends were poor, but honest; so’s my love: be not offended, for it hurts not him that he is lov’d of me: I follow him not by any token of presumptuous suit; nor would I have him till I do deserve him, yet never know how that desert should be.”

With each step you take you find yourself getting closer to him, a position you’ve been in so many times onstage with him, and it makes your breath hitch in your throat as you continue. Jimin’s starstruck, silent with his eyes blown wide as he watches you carefully, judging your every move like he’s afraid of them.

“I know I love in vain, strive against hope; yet, in this captious and intenible sieve I still pour in the waters of my love, and lack not to lose still,” you cry, voice loud as it echoes throughout the theatre. Just then, the lights shut off and a spotlight illuminates the small area of the stage that you and Jimin occupy. One of the tech kids sitting in for the audition must have done that, but instead of distracting you, it pulls you in further. With nothing but a fluorescent yellow shining on you, it feels like you and Jimin are the only ones on stage, the only ones in the whole theatre as you watch him, stare into his eyes helplessly as you finish the monologue.

Somewhere along the way, Jimin takes your hands in his, or maybe you take his hands in yours, but by the final lines, you two are gazing right at each other, and for once, you can’t read the expression on his face like you’ve easily done for all these years. “Give pity to her, whose state is such that she cannot choose, but lend and give where she is sure to lose; that seeks not to find her search implies, but, riddle-like, live sweetly where she dies.”

The lights switch back on, and for the first time since kindergarten, Jimin is speechless, his brown eyes fuzzy with thought as you let his hands go, turning back to the audience and bowing. Taehyung is the first one to start clapping, followed by Seokjin and the rest of the directors soon after, and suddenly you’ve got a standing ovation in front of you for nothing but an audition piece, but somehow, it feels like it’s a bit more than that.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Seokjin says after the applause dies down. “That was astounding.”

“Just doing my best, I guess,” you say, shrugging awkwardly as you turn to look at Jimin. He immediately avoids your gaze right when you do, and quickly shuffles back stage, disappearing behind the curtains.

You hop off the stage and take your seat next to Taehyung, whose jaw seems to be perpetually dropped.

“Shut your mouth, you’ll attract flies,” you chide him, shaking your head as you grab onto his chin, pushing his lips together.

Taehyung looks to be just as speechless as Jimin.

“What, no compliment?”

“That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever witnessed in my entire life,” Taehyung says stupidly, still entranced.

“I’m touched.”

“Y/N, do you know what you just did?” Taehyung asks, snapping out of his whirring mind and turning to you, a significantly more serious look on his face.

“I just totally fucking crushed Jimin with my epic monologue,” you say proudly, sitting up taller at the notion that you definitely topped Jimin’s dramatic reading of whatever monocle-requiring monologue he had set up.

Taehyung looks hesitant at your answer, constantly glancing back at the stage curtains, the same ones Jimin vanished behind after your audition. “I think you might have done a bit more than that.”

Surprisingly enough, the directors though it would be a better fit if Jimin was the lead’s best friend and you were said lead’s best friend’s love interest, but when you look at the cast list posted outside Seokjin’s door, you think he might have had some ulterior motives. From your recollection, Algernon and Cecily kiss a total of three or four times. The leads? Once.

Rehearsals start almost instantly, as they always do, but especially because Seokjin would rather focus on getting the nuances of the play correct instead of the lines and the stage directions, which he generally knows the cast are familiar with at this point. According to his husband, some super prestigious university English teacher named Namjoon, the play requires something of a knowledge of the purpose of it being written in order to capture the true essence.

To make a long story much, much shorter, the rehearsal time is longer because this play is satirically deep, and that means you have to stare at Jimin’s face and pretend to be madly in love with him for about half a month longer than you typically would.

So, great.

The dynamic between you and Jimin has been a lot… weirder ever since the audition, when you took his hands and recited some sappy Shakespearean love confession in front of the entire drama club. Not to say that he’s any less annoying than he used to be, because he isn’t, but he’s been spending more time around you in character than not, and he’s been significantly less touchy with you. They’re subtle things that no one else would pick up about a change in his behavior, but when you’ve spent countless hours with him, rehearsing lines and performing and stage-kissing, it’s difficult for you not to notice.

Meanwhile, Taehyung’s totally just swooping that sophomore Joy right off of her feet before your eyes, charming and handsome and flirtatious and everything else that makes him the perfect person to be Jimin’s best friend, because he is exactly like him.

“You’re a real ladies’ man, aren’t you, Tae?” You ask after Seokjin calls cut on one of the scenes, leaving Joy to scurry off to her friends to squeal about how Taehyung did this, or that, or just something.

“I got it from him,” Taehyung responds, pointing to Jimin. When you turn around to look at him, he’s staring up at the stage lights above you, reciting the lines he can from memory and tapping his foot at the same time, keeping a beat. This is why he’s the best actor the school’s seen in decades.

“Jimin?” You call out, snapping the boy out of his trance as he looks at you, eyes wide for a quick second before they immediately morph into something noticeably more cheeky.

“Is there something my lady desires?” He asks dramatically.

“If you speak to me in Victorian era colloquial one more time—”

“Pardon me, Miss, but I believe you were the one who addressed me,” Jimin says, shutting his script and taking some firm steps towards you as you hear Taehyung chuckling behind you, bowing out of the conversation to go win over Joy some more. “So, how may I be of service?”

“I just wanted to ask you if you found anything interesting on those stage lights up there, since you seem to be spending an awful lot of time staring at them,” you scoff, crossing your arms and ignoring his remarks.

“Oh, my dear, dear Y/N,” he murmurs in your ear, and this would seem suggestive in literally any other context if the entire drama club didn’t already know how much you both hated each other, “you’re the only one I’ve got my eyes on.”

Your pupils dilate at the sound of his words, and it’s not long before you’re shoving him away from you, covering up the thumping of your annoyingly vociferous heart and how your hands are getting all clammy by scoffing, over and over like you’re in a permanent state of disbelief.

“Alright, break time’s over everyone!” Seokjin shouts, clapping his hands loudly to attract everyone’s attention. “We’re going to Act II for the next hour, I need all of the main cast on stage now!”

And with that, Jimin renders you speechless, standing there like an idiot as he saunters his way over to the center of the stage, a place that you hate to admit is a place that Jimin looks like he belongs in.

“This is absolutely no fair,” you’re shouting from on top of the stage, where Seokjin is standing in the pit, shrugging helplessly. “The first scene of this entire play is the two of them eating sandwiches and tea cakes,” you whine, pointing an accusing finger at the food offenders, Jimin and Taehyung as they’re crouched over the prop table decorated with very real edible goodies.

“Sorry, love,” Jimin says, mouth grossly full of multigrain bread and cucumbers. “I’d offer you some, but, you see, I don’t really want to.”

You immediately throw your fists up in his direction, and all Jimin does is wink in response. You can hear Seokjin chuckling from the pit, laughing to himself about the dynamic he’s grown so fond of over these years.

“I feel like you guys cast Jimin as Algernon solely because of the food. I swear to God, in every scene he’s in, he’s eating something,” you sigh, exasperated as you snatch up a cucumber sandwich before Jimin can swipe it away from you.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” Taehyung says in such Taehyung fashion, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he makes a grand gesture with his free hand, one that’s holding a half-eaten tea cake, the sugar getting all over his fingertips, “I think we all know why you and Jimin were cast in the roles you were.”

“If you think me and Jimin enjoy kissing each other on stage in front of like, five-hundred people, then you’re wrong,” you hiss, pulling Taehyung’s arm from you. Today just looks like one of those days where he and Jimin have banded together to make your life (or at least, this specific day) hell on this godforsaken Earth. Damn.

“Y/N’s right, Tae,” Jimin says, rescuing you from Taehyung’s grasp as he pulls you into his own, pressing you against his body, “we prefer kissing each other in private.”

The words make you gasp loudly, attracting the attention of the rest of the cast and the directors as they turn your way. You immediately wrestle yourself from Jimin’s hold, glaring him down with your eyes narrowed in disgust, a vow that you will get back at him for totally just saying that in front of Taehyung, who is notorious for not keeping his damn mouth shut. Now the whole school’s going to think you and Jimin make out in secret locations around the building. Great.

You stomp off, tired of this nonsense, and hear Jimin and Taehyung cackling from behind you, a slap of skin telling you that they’re high-fiving.

But even as you leave the stage to compose yourself so you don’t burst when Seokjin calls ‘Action!’, that sneaking little feeling in the back of your brain can’t help but wonder what it might be like to kiss Jimin when no one’s watching, when it’s just the two of you together like it was during your audition. With a furious shake of your head, you push the thought from your mind, because how could you ever think of kissing the one boy you’re supposed to hate?

Despite what you insist with all of your heart about not ever wanting to be given the curse of having to see Jimin’s face in front of you, you end up spending a damn long amount of time with him, Taehyung, and Joy, because drama club kids stick together, you guess?

You’ve never actually hung out with Jimin outside of drama, because every time you see him you send him an obligatory rude glare that he easily reciprocates, and that was the extent of your contact outside of your drama responsibilities. But now, Jimin’s acting strange, and by strange, you mean bizarrely approachable for someone who hates you with just as much of a fiery passion as you him. So, without even realizing it, you’re walking with him down the hallways to your respective classes and eating lunch in Seokjin’s room because he has a free period that time of the day, and things are going alarmingly well for two people that share such a fierce rivalry like you.

Jimin’s actually not that bad. He’s not. Not that you had anything to base his actual personality on besides the fact that he’s just a total sleaze around you, dangling that Peter Pan casting over your head like a trophy, but being with him like this is different. He still taunts you and you still threaten to sock him in the jaw the day after the final show—you can’t risk sacrificing the production for a little bit of some good vengeance, no matter how much you want to—but things have changed. They’ve changed ever since the audition, if you think about it.

And you can’t really pinpoint why.

You can’t believe you’re actually coming to this conclusion, but you think you and Jimin might be becoming friends, in that twisted, competitive, insulting way of yours.

“Wait,” you say during lunch one time, with only about two weeks out until your first show. “Repeat your line again.”

Seokjin keeps drilling the four leads on their chemistry, because while you and Jimin have got it all, it’s still not enough. The audience needs more, Seokjin tells you every single time you rehearse the scene you have with him, the one in which his character confesses his attraction for yours. The audience knows you have chemistry, of course they do, you always do, but you need something more than just chemistry. You need pure, unadulterated emotion.

“He’s going to send me away,” Jimin says, fully absorbed in the character of Algernon Moncrieff, but Seokjin’s right. There’s something missing.

“Then have we got to part?” You respond airily and disappointed.

Jimin nods, sighing softly. “I am afraid so. It’s a very painful parting.”

“It is always painful to part from people whom one has known for a very brief space of time. The absence of old friends one can endure with equanimity. But even a momentary separation from anyone whom one has just been introduced to is almost unbearable.”

You’re so busy sticking your nose in your script, making sure you have the line exactly right despite the fact that you’ve said it probably a thousand times at this point, that you don’t notice Jimin’s placed his script down entirely. When you finish your line, you look up to find Jimin staring at you, that same expression on his face as the one from the audition. Even after all of these weeks, that look of his hasn’t left your mind. He’s gazing at you with something in his eyes, a hazy, fuzzy blur that you can’t quite distinguish.

“Jimin?” You ask, leaning towards him with concern lacing your features. This expression of his has been getting more frequent recently, but you aren’t any closer to deciphering it now than you were in January.

“What?” He asks, snapping out of his trance. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Thank you.”

“Are you okay, Jimin?” You ask, a hand coming to rest on his upper arm, making his eyes dart up at you in surprise. “You seem kinda… not yourself.”

“Me? I’m fine,” he quickly responds. “I’m peachy. Stop trying to psychoanalyze me all the time.”

The comment at the end sounds like it was added just to make him seem as taunting and unbearable as he typically is, but it doesn’t sound biting or annoying in the slightest. All it sounds is stiff.

“Alright then…” you say, trailing off and avoiding eye contact. “Your next line, then?”

“I hope, Cecily, I shall not offend you if I state quite frankly and openly that you seem to me to be in every way the visible personification of absolute perfection,” Jimin says, looking you dead in the eyes as he does so, but all of his features are soft, lacking the resilience and fire that normally resides within them.

“Jimin…” you repeat his name again, like a mantra that flows off of your tongue as though it’s a waterfall, and for the first time ever, neither of you have anything to say to each other. Jimin gets up, grabbing his lunch with one hand and his bag with the other, and exits Seokjin’s room, leaving you in a stunned silence as you can barely process what just happened.

Tech Week is the worst week of your life every year. It’s become so infamous among the drama kids that none of you even call it Tech Week anymore. Now, it’s just Wreck Week, because it’s exactly what it sounds like. Wreck week means six hours at school after classes end, rehearsing and re-rehearsing and checking the mics and double-checking the mics and triple checking the mics just in case, fucking around with the sound system because it never works the way it should, and it’s stressful.

That’s one sentiment you know you and Jimin share, and you can tell from the way that by the second day of Wreck Week, Jimin’s walking into school with under-eye bags down to his knees and the insufferable smirk is missing, a surefire sign.

It’s not like you’re really doing any better, because you were up into the ungodly hours of the night finishing up school work along with double-checking the lines you were unsure you had 100% correct, and right now you just want to collapse. But you power through the school day, dreading the sound of the final bell that means not your freedom, but six to seven more hours of hell, trapped in the auditorium.

When you walk in, Jimin’s lying flat on the stage, arms and legs splayed out like a star as Taehyung tries to toss bits of cucumber into his open mouth from a couple steps away. Is this what Wreck Week has reduced the drama club to?

You drop your backpack somewhere on the theatre floor and hop onto the stage as Seokjin tries to wrangle everyone together, making to stand over Jimin with your hands on your hips, feet next to each of his shins.

“The hell are you doing, Park?”

“Dying a slow and painful death.”

“Hey!” Taehyung shouts from across the way. “What have you got against cucumbers?”

“Everything,” Jimin remarks, making you choke back a snort.

“Get up, Jimin. You look ridiculous,” you say, leaning down to smack his face lightly.

Jimin whines, groaning as he squirms in place, like a petulant child not wanting to get out of bed for school. “Can’t we just rehearse the whole thing with me lying down?”

“You’re so selfish,” you chide. “Nowhere in the script does it say Algernon dies.”

“I wish it did,” Taehyung comments from afar, eliciting a bit of a laugh from you as Jimin slides his legs out from under you, whirling around on his ass before he stands up, purposefully knocking into you as he does.

“Alright, Tech Week day two, I want a full rehearsal of Act II, and then I’m gonna nitpick,” Seokjin says somewhat maniacally, wriggling his eyebrows as he clasps his hands together.

Later, when you’ve all got your mics attached with the help of the lovely makeup team, you’re standing on the stage as Seokjin directs all of you to where he wants you to be for this particular act.

The only thing missing from the rehearsal are your costumes, heavy things they are, and Seokjin is merciful enough to not make you change into them until the dress rehearsal tomorrow, when you will be at school, trapped in the vicinity of the auditorium for much later than usual, thank God. But everything else is there, the props, the mics, the lights, and it, surprisingly, seems to be running quite smoothly. Even Seokjin’s impressed that nothing’s gone horribly wrong yet.

“What a perfect angel you are, Cecily,” Jimin says, fully absorbed in his character as he kneels down in front of you, taking your hand in his, looking up at you with those big brown eyes of his that make your heart skip a beat even though they shouldn’t.

“You—”

Mic drop. Literally. The sound has just completely cut out from your mic, your voice not travelling much further than just past Jimin’s ears.

“You—” You repeat, just making sure that you’re not going crazy and that the mic actually isn’t working. You reach a finger up and tap the mic, and the once familiar sound of a thud echoing through the room is no more. “God fucking damnit,” you mutter to yourself, thankful that the mic isn’t able to pick up your swears.

“Cut!” Seokjin shrieks from below, and all of the lights switch back on as everyone resumes their normal personas, postures sinking collectively. “Y/N, what’s going on up there?”

“My mic cut out,” you say, tapping it again as further proof. “Damn, everything was going so well, too.”

“Alright, um,” Seokjin says, scratching the nape of his neck, the action he does every time something goes mildly wrong during drama. “Go up to the soundbooth and talk with the kid in there, see if he can fix it.”

“Okay,” you say, hopping off of the stage and making a speedy walk up to the top of the auditorium. As you do so, you catch Taehyung cruising his way over to Jimin, placing a hand on his upper arm as Jimin sulks about something unimportant.

Inside the soundbooth is a kid named Jungkook, some sophomore who’s a genius with tech when he’s not fiddling with it himself. The drama club plucked him right from the hallways after hearing from a friend of a friend of a friend that he was pretty decent with sound stuff, and here he is.

“Knock knock,” you say, not even tapping your fist on the wood as you peek your head through the doorway. “Hey.”

“Oh, hey Y/N,” Jungkook says, wide-eyed as he sees you in front of him, scrambling to stuff his phone in his pocket. From what you can catch a glimpse of on his screen, it looks like he’s watching old reruns of Pokemon.

“Um, my mic cut out halfway through the scene,” you say awkwardly, rocking back and forth on your feet. “Can you fix it?”

“What? Wait, your mic?” He asks, an eyebrow raised as he points to the contraption taped to your cheek. He swivels around in the office chair he’s sitting in to face the sound board, adjusting a couple of things and pressing a couple of buttons here and there, eyebrows knitted as the focus sets in.

“Were you watching Pokemon?” You ask curiously, trying to spark up a conversation with the kid. He seems nice.

Even in the dim light of the soundbooth, you can see Jungkook blushing a furious red as you mention it.

“Do you like it?” He asks, avoiding your gaze. His movements, nimble fingers dancing along the buttons and pegs and switches like second nature, have slowed down immensely.

“I know it well,” you admit. “It was hard not for me to notice.”

“Yeah, I just, got, uh… a bit bored up here,” Jungkook sheepishly tells you, a hand going to ruffle his hair to keep it occupied. “You guys looked like you were fine without me.”

“That’s one of the smoothest rehearsals we’ve had all year,” you inform him. “You know, up until my mic cutting out.”

“Do you watch Pokemon a lot?” Jungkook asks.

“I did, but I’m so busy these days.”

“Me too,” Jungkook says, nodding. “Chemistry is kicking my ass. How am I supposed to know what the hell Tungsten is called if it’s labelled as ‘W’ on the Periodic Table?”

You giggle at his rhetorical question, making you reminisce on the good ol’ days of chem class, the struggles of walking out of lab with red lines all over your face from the goggles. “I guess you’re right, you know.”

“It’s infuriating.”

“You know, if you ever needed help with chem stuff, I could tutor you sometime during study hall,” you suggest innocently, figuring that it would be nice of you to help out a fellow struggler.

Jungkook lights up, pressing a couple more buttons on the soundboard. “Really? I’d appreciate that. Also, your mic should be up, test it?”

“Testing, testing, avocado toast,” you say into the microphone, sighing in relief at the sound of your voice reverberating around the theatre. Jungkook laughs at what you’re saying, and you send him a smile as you bid him goodbye.

When you reach the stage, Jimin looks thoroughly unimpressed with whatever you just did.

“What?” You ask defensively, hands on your hips as Seokjin reels everyone back, ordering them into place.

“Get comfortable up there with that little sophomore?” Jimin asks, pushing his mic away from his face so it can’t pick up his words, scowl ever-present on his face.

“Leave him alone, Jimin,” you say, mimicking his actions and rolling your eyes. “Why the hell do you care about him?”

Jimin scoffs. “He’s a kid.”

“We’re all kids, Jimin,” you remind him. “Seokjin and the other directors are the only one’s who aren’t.”

“But he isn’t right for you,” Jimin mutters to himself, almost soft enough for even you not to catch it, but your ears manage to hear it anyway.

“Okay, everyone, we’re picking up right where we left off!” Seokjin shouts, clapping his hands to attract attention. “Y/N, is your mic okay?”

“We are healthy and happy.”

“Okay, action!”

“What a perfect angel you are, Cecily,” Jimin says again, down on his knees in front of you with your hand in his, except this time the emotion is evidently missing from his tone.

“You dear romantic boy,” you respond, and Jimin comes up to meet your gaze, staring into you as he wraps a hand around the back of your neck, bringing you in for one kiss out of thousands. His lips are warm, warm as they always are, but the kiss is hardly anything delicate. Jimin’s kissing you with something of a ferocity on his tongue, pushing you together harshly, barely giving you time to put your hands in his soft locks like the stage directions tell you. You part quickly, it feeling like not even a second has passed since you joined lips, continuing on with your line as you try to mask the expression of confusion on your face. “I hope your hair curls naturally, does it?”

“Yes, darling, with a little help from others,” Jimin responds, and it feels like with every word he utters he loses more and more of the touch that makes him such a brilliant actor, so convincing and sincere. But it looks like you’re the only one who’s noticed it, because Seokjin hasn’t called either of you out for anything just yet.

“I am so glad.”

It’s the night of the final show, and Jimin hasn’t spoken to you outside of a snarky remark or a stiff comment during drama setup since Wreck Week, and you don’t know why. He’s been super talkative with Taehyung and even Joy, though, so what gives?

“Last show, hey?” Joy asks as she walks into the dressing room in full costume.

“Time flies by so quickly,” you respond as the girl doing your makeup, Rose, chides you for moving your head as she finishes up your eyeshadow. “I feel old as hell.”

“You sure look like it with that cake face on you,” Joy jokes, fixing her hair in the mirror as she adjusts the hat atop her head.

“Oh, shush,” you say with Rose finishing the other eye, handing you the liquid matte lipstick you’ve been ordered to wear despite the fact that your lips are dry as hell all the time, just so Jimin’s face doesn’t look like Smudge Central by the end of the play. “It’s so weird to think about.”

“I know,” Joy says. “No more kissing Jimin after this.”

Strangely enough, the thought never crossed your mind all throughout the last shows you will ever perform for this school, with these people. You never once found yourself looking forward to the fact that you would never have to lock lips with Jimin after this. In fact, it sort of feels like you’re dreading it. Like the feeling of kissing him has become second nature to you at this point.

“How is Jimin, by the way?” You ask. “We haven’t really spoken much recently.”

“Same old, same old,” Joy says. “He does get a lot quieter whenever Taehyung or I bring you up, though. Not sure why, since he almost always has something to say about you.”

“Huh.”

“Huh, indeed.”

When your makeup is finished and your costume is on, the heavy dress weighing your body down despite your best efforts to keep it up, you peek through the closed stage curtain, only to be greeted with a full house. Not a single seat in the auditorium is empty, not for a show like this. It’s not the play the crowd wants to see, it’s you and Jimin, your final show of your high school careers right in front of your eyes. Never again will there be a stage with the two of you on it, emotions high and chemistry alive.

“The theatre’s packed!” You whisper excitedly, turning to Taehyung as he beams. “I can’t believe it. I’ve never seen so many people in the auditorium before!”

“D’ya hear that, Jimin?” Taehyung asks as Jimin emerges from the back curtain, dressed primly in a full suit, the same kind of thing men in the Victorian Era wore every day. “Everyone’s come to watch you on your last night!”

“Neato,” Jimin responds mindlessly.

Taehyung smacks Jimin’s chest with the back of his hand. “Gonna make it your best night ever?”

Finally, finally, finally, Jimin—not his character, not the fictional person he’s roleplaying as—looks dead at you. “I will,” he says firmly.

There’s an inkling of a feeling in the back of your mind that Jimin might not be talking only about his performance.

“Okay guys, bring it in!” Seokjin whisper-shouts as he clambers onto the stage, clipboard in hand as the cast huddles around him. “This is the last show of the year, and for the seniors, it’s the last show you will ever be performing under my direction, with such talented people like this, as high school students.” Taehyung’s excited, jumping on the tips of his feet from anticipation. Joy’s grinning wildly, softly clapping her hands together. And you make eye contact with Jimin as Seokjin says, “Make every second count.”

Soon enough, you’re shuffling off the stage with only Jimin and Taehyung left, posing perfectly, waiting for the curtains to be drawn. You wait backstage with enthusiasm next to Joy, and Jimin turns his head to you ever so slightly, cracking a smile.

“Okay, action!”

The show goes on practically perfectly. Taehyung forgets one of his lines in one of his many scenes with Joy as he enchants both her and her character, and it’s a damn shame that he’s graduating this year, because you know Joy would have really liked being with him, but he recovers remarkably well, like you knew he would. Jimin charms the audience, like he fucking always does, with his wit and his humor, how he commands the stage with his presence, leaving the crowd (and you) in awe.

Soon, your scenes creep up on you, and you are flung into the spotlight for your final show as a senior, final show as a high school student. The audience is equally as excited to see you on stage as they were with Jimin, everyone perking up at the sight of you. Throughout the entire scene you have with another character, you keep stealing glances at Jimin as he waits for his cue to come on stage for the next part, letting the rivalry finally just die down between the two of you.

Before you can hardly realize it, the kissing scene is upon you, and you find yourself scarily looking forward to it. Some big celebration to commemorate the final kiss you will ever have with Jimin.

Jimin gets down on his knees, looking up at you with those same big brown eyes, only they’ve got wonder hidden within the flecks of copper and gold, amazement scrawled all over his features as you gaze at each other. “What a perfect angel you are, Cecily,” he says, much softer than he’s been saying it all of these months, like he means it this time.

“You dear romantic boy,” you respond, and Jimin comes up to meet you without a second thought, bringing your lips together like you’ve done so many times.

You realize it after a couple of seconds. There’s something different about this kiss, something different about the way Jimin’s lips move against yours, the way his hand comes to rest on your lower jaw, holding your cheek in his palm. The sensation leaves you pressing for more, drunk and desperate for another taste, hand snaking up to tug gently on the strands of his hair, earning something akin to a moan from his lips, spilling into your mouth. This kiss is undeniably different.

It occurs to you that this might be the emotion Seokjin was always looking for. Or perhaps, it’s always been there, but neither of you were aware of it.

You part, panting significantly more than you should, foreheads pressed against each other’s. You’re sweating, and if anybody asks, you’ll blame it on the stage lights.

“I hope your hair curls naturally, does it?” You continue with the line, albeit a bit breathless, and it looks to you that the entire audience is starstruck, speechless in their seats.

Jimin’s beaming, like a child at a candy shop, eyes crinkling up to match the smile of his lips. “Yes, darling, with a little help from others.”

You take his hand, even though that’s not a part of the script, and it looks to you that everywhere where his skin touches yours your nerves catch on fire, igniting from the heat. “I am so glad.”

For the final play you will ever perform in this theatre, in front of this audience, with these castmates, with that director, the Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde earns you and Jimin a standing ovation. As the audience cheers, whistles, applauds, as Taehyung hoots from where he’s standing behind you, Jimin takes your hand in his, and kisses it ever so gently, before catching you off guard and pulling you in close, pressing his soft lips to your cheek.

“I’m never eating another cucumber for the rest of my life,” Jimin says once the audience has long filtered out of the theatre, as you’re wiping off your makeup and unpinning your hair in the dressing room together. “I can’t even think about them without wanting to throw up.”

“Me too, and I didn’t even eat those damn sandwiches.”

“They were so good,” Jimin says, exasperated, “but I think my stomach is now perpetually full.”

“How do you think you did for today’s show, Jimin?” You ask hesitantly, turning to face him in your drab regular clothes, having already changed before he marched through the dressing room door and sat down in one of the seats.

“How do you think I did?” He quips back, turning to you with a smirk on his face.

“Eh. A solid seven out of ten.”

“Only a seven?” Jimin asks, mock offended. “All that kissing and confessing only earns me a seven?”

“You win some, you lose some.”

“You play a mean game, Miss Y/N.”

“Did you mean what you did?” You ask, walking over to him.

“I mean and do not mean lots of things.”

“Did you mean that kiss?”

Jimin smiles, a smug little thing that dances along his lips as he fiddles with his fingers, twiddling his thumbs in front of him as he takes a step towards you, eliminating the distance between your body and his. “Did you want me to mean it?”

“I think I might have,” you admit sheepishly, looking to the side as you shrug.

Jimin’s hand comes up to your cheek, brushing away any loose strands of hair that must have fallen out as you were removing all of the little pins and bobs and knick knacks holding your hair in the position it was. “Then I did. I’ve loved you for a long time, Y/N. I can’t believe I finally got the message across.”

“When did you start loving me, hmm?” You hum softly.

“When you marched up on stage in kindergarten and demanded the role of Peter Pan,” Jimin tells you. “When did you start loving me?”

“When you so unfairly marched up on stage after the teacher decided you would get the role of Peter Pan,” you respond.

“Listen here, I deserved that role—”

You shut him up with your lips, bounding forwards and pressing them onto his like an innocent schoolkid kiss, making him squeak out a noise of surprise as the two of you melt into each other. Here, makeup-less, tired, with messy hair and ugly clothes, you love each other.

“I love you,” Jimin whispers against your skin, and it feels like home, feels like words that were meant to be.

You grin. “I am so glad.”

⇒ hmu with feedback or just talk 2 me here!!

#sfwbangtan #bangtan bookclub #bangtanwriters-net #bts writing squad #jimin fluff #bts fluff #jimin oneshot #jimin imagine #bts imagine #jimin au #bts au #bts enemies to lovers #bts high school au #bts actor au #w: earnestly yours #I CANT BELIEVE I GOT ALL OF THIS INSPIRATION FROM THE DRAMA KIDS

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freedom-of-fanfic · 7 years

Note

I have been reading and reblogging some of your posts and wanted to thank you for that detailed account. I have been out of fandom for a while, and antis really baffled me at first. But now I have a question: Could you talk some more about how current antis relate back to the LJ social justice scene and when the morph from debating fanworks to dissing people happened? Thank you!

I’m glad you’ve been enjoying this blog!

I think this reddit post does a nice job of summarizing the history of fandom and how it’s led to our current point. But I’m going to go more into how tumblr’s very structure led to a ‘race to the bottom’ sort of enacting of punishment via social justice.

Almost all of this is from personal observation, having been here since late 2010.

To get more into the actual history of it: Racefail ‘09 is the name given to the big, public 2009 debates about racism in genre fiction (published fantasy and sci-fi), which happened primarily on livejournal and private websites. (Racefail was itself the result of the rising awareness of social justice in the real world thanks to the democratization of information via the internet.) Racefail raised a couple of big questions: were non-white (and non-straight/non-cis/non-male) creators being silenced and erased in published genre fiction? And were the stories being told primarily racist/sexist/homophobic and lacking in representation for non-white/Western cultures (and LGBT+/queer/female stories)?

From everything I’ve read I feel like a lot of good came out of these talks; in particular, it greatly raised the awareness of social justice in genre fiction and fandom spaces - which had been there before, but not quite so prominent. But one major bad came out of it: it revealed, via the shitty behavior of one member of the genre fiction community, how social justice could easily be used as a silencing tactic by applying arguments meant to dismantle power structures to individuals who may (or may not!) benefit from those power structures.

Fast-forward to 2010-2012 tumblr. LJ has undergone multiple journal purges and partial restorations, been bought out by a Russian company, and - final straw - changed the way anonymous threaded posts were handled, ending its value as a space for anon memes like kinkmemes. Fandom dispersed. A not-insignificant number of us eventually end up on tumblr, and those of us coming from LJ have brought with us a greater awareness of social justice, particularly lgbt/queer culture and feminism.

At the same time, Facebook has opened its doors to everyone instead of only allowing college students to use it. Facebook has almost single-handedly popularized the notion of making your offline life publicly available online. Gone are the days of keeping your age, real name, and offline identity hidden; we share everything except maybe last names and exact locations.

Tumblr democratizes the fandom experience like never before. Livejournal and forums had moderators; tumblr has none. Communities are gone - instead we have tags where people gather to talk about shared interests. People who previously felt shut out, forced to be ‘lurkers’ because they had nothing to say, could now have a blog and share the work of others via reblogging. The main way to gain social capital is by having the most followers and therefore the most widespread content.

But tumblr is a weird experience compared to other blogging sites because at the time it was the only one with a ‘reblog’ function. any one post can go absolutely viral and the people who see it beyond your immediate circle will lack the context of the rest of your blog. This means that either every single post needs to be entirely self-contained … or get wildly misunderstood. (Guess which one happens.) It also means that that the posts that spread the fastest and furthest are the short, witty ones or - you guessed it - the controversial ones. Finally, people tend to not fact-check - if something is interesting and seems believable, people reblog it uncritically. Tumblr’s dashboard structure actively encourages people to not leave their dash to look at provided external links - you’ll lose your ‘place’ on your endless-scrolling dash, and the little ‘home’ button in the corner is reminding you how many new posts have been created since you last refreshed. You don’t have time to fact-check.

Controversy without context is polarizing - without the original context, people provide their own context and agree or disagree based on a bunch of assumptions. Tumblr is a breeding ground for this. Opinions don’t get more nuanced - they get more vitriolic, more sharp and quick-witted. And with people not bothering to fact-check or click linked information, misinformation spreads like wildfire.

The early experience of fandom on tumblr is one of widespread acceptance. Possibly because FB does this, people feel safe to share their age, sexuality, and gender on their tumblr profiles - and those identities get more and more specific as people learn more about gender identities and sexual orientations that are off the gender binary. People spread educational posts about queer/LGBT+ culture, feminist theory, and racism alongside fandom posts. The importance of minority representation in the media is a hot topic and posts that criticize media for their lack of (or bad) representation get thousands of notes. Social justice theory - fighting the appropriation of colonized cultures by imperialists, promoting the voices of the oppressed over those of the privileged, the right to be angry because of the oppression and trauma you’ve experienced, not tone-policing people who have been hurt, and not erasing the experiences of others - are widely discussed.

A lot of good came out of this, too, but I believe a natural backlash resulted. Earnestly working to promote the voices of the least privileged and trying to avoid silencing or erasure, what started as an effort to even out the social strata gradually became a kind of reversed social strata. People who were oppressed on any axis could not be corrected by anybody of lesser oppression - it was considered to be silencing. People could not say their feelings had been hurt by a marginalized person’s word choice - that was tone policing.

And this led to a secondary, and probably lesser conclusion: people who identified as ‘privileged’ - that is, white, cis, straight, mentally well, able-bodied, (and male) - felt guilty for all the privilege they had. and the promotion of marginalized voices over their own - the tendency to tell people, regardless of the validity of their points, that if they were privileged their voice did not matter - to escape their privilege, at least on tumblr.

I think we hit Peak Tumblr in 2012-2013-ish. Non-human and nonbinary identities proliferated. Asexuality awareness exploded, as did other lesser-known sexualities and paraphilias. People wondered what it meant to be trans in a world with no gender binary. People self-diagnosed severe mental illnesses. And this unto itself wasn’t a bad thing! Probably many people learned a lot about themselves from the openness and acceptance.

However: there’s no way to know how much of this was from people self-discovering and how much was from people who realized that unless they had some axis of oppression they could point to they could be silenced. And people were extremely open about these identities as well: despite all of the talk about social awareness, interactions on tumblr suggested that most people still assumed that everyone else was white, cis, straight, able-bodied and mentally well (and therefore completely unaware of social issues and in need of education). And due to how tumblr’s reblogging system could separate posts entirely from the context of the original poster’s blog and personal details, this assumption happened a lot!

Whatever the actual numbers of people who were self-discovering versus self-deluding, this extreme acceptance got its own natural backlash. It wasn’t possible for everyone on tumblr to be oppressed, but everyone on tumblr seemed to be finding some way to be marginalized - they weren’t cis, they were ‘a demigirl’. They weren’t straight, they were ‘gray asexual’. There had to be some way to distinguish the real marginalized people from the fakers.*

Enter gatekeeping - which seems reasonable enough at first, given the sheer number of people who are claiming to be part of the marginalized club. People start making fun of ‘transtrenders’ and ‘starselves’ and say ‘heteroromantic demisexuals’ are ‘just normal’. People call one another ‘cishet’ specifically to erase their gender identity/sexual orientation.

This environment makes tumblr ripe for radfems, who greatly benefit from people putting limits on what identities other people can have. And radfems feed the gatekeeping mentality, leading to more and more policing of one another on tumblr instead of acceptance. Instead of trusting others to be honest about their gender identity, sexual orientation, race or mental health, people increasingly decide the identity and experiences of others based on whether or not they say and do the right things. Conversely, if you say or do the wrong things you are ostracized and your identity is erased using the reverse social strata of tumblr: ’cishet’ becomes shorthand for ‘ignorant asshole’ - and ignorant assholes are not to be listened to.

One no longer has to identify wrongly to have the wrong identity to be worth listening to. One only has to do the wrong thing.

So how does this tie back to debating fanworks vs dissing people? Well: tumblr isn’t just the home of social justice. It’s also the home of fandom, and these two spaces heavily overlap.

Like our genre fiction friend that I mentioned back at the beginning of this long-ass post, tumblr had already begun - with the best of intentions - to silence people for having the wrong level of marginalization. And when radfems and gatekeepers entered the scene, one’s level of marginalization became a function of how you behaved. Now you had to behave right to have the right to be listened to - and fanworks, far from being the exception, are the rule for determining if people behave ‘right’ in fandom spaces.

In other words: debating fanworks/fan opinions and dissing people have become the same thing. If a fanwork is for the wrong pairing, that makes a person a bad person. And bad people are only able to create bad fanworks.

This attitude is how you get things like ‘if you ship [x] you’re straight’ and ‘oh, you ship [x], your opinion on this unrelated social justice issue is invalid’ or ‘i’m not surprised to find that this person is [x]-phobic, they created problematic fanworks.’

And that’s where we’re at today.

Man this is much. I’m sorry for your eyes.

*And in case it isn’t obvious, I think policing sexual orientations and gender identities is nonsense - demigirls and gray-ace people count as much as everyone else.

#makamu-a-tumbling #gatekeeping #a history of tumblr

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deepfriedtwinkie · 7 years

Text

Kingsman: A Trainee’s Mission (Pt. VI)

PREQUEL FIC, this section ~2kw

note: this is the only part without any Merlin in it BUT IT’S IMPORTANT FOR LATER OKAY (don’t cry, Harry will think you don’t like him)

pt. I | pt. II | pt. III | pt. IV | pt. V

By now, the compound has been home for so long that Harry is almost enamored to see London again. It’s easy to forget how much he loves these streets, the shops, the throngs of people going about their days. Easy to forget, but easier to remember.

He walks primly at the elbow of his proposing agent, a man named Martin Turner. The same who’d first met him as a ten-year-old, enthralling him with images of the world of gentleman spies. A world he’d never known to be real, until then, even with what his mother did for a living. Gentlemen were a much rarer breed in her work, after all. Some of her stories could turn a woman to the nunnery.

As Agent Lamorak, Martin has been kept away for nearly the whole of Harry’s training so far, busy with some mission or other, always jet-setting this way or that. They’ve spoken only a couple of times, but it’s no bother. Obviously, it’s more than understandable. All the more reason to take him up on his sudden invitation, delivered in person this morning in the training room, clear out of the blue.

They enter the tailor shop, Martin holding the door. Harry smiles, hands in his pockets, taking in the atmosphere for the first time through a proper candidate’s eyes. His last visit here felt like a new world. This time, it feels like coming home. He’s quite ready to get used to that feeling.

“’Morning, Simons,” Martin greets the headtailor.

“Good morning to you, sir.” The old man’s only movement seems to be the quiver of his mustache. “May I be of assistance to you gentlemen?”

“Yes, in fact, you may, Simons.” Martin’s head tips toward him. “I’d like for you to meet Harry Hart, my proposal for one of the open positions.”

As he was raised to do, Harry gives his hand, and the headtailor accepts. They shake. “How do you do, sir,” Harry says with a smile.

“Very well, thank you.”

“Simons here is nothing less than the best this business has got, Harry,” Martin boasts. “You’ll be taken good care of with him.”

“Oh, I have no doubt, sir.”

Then he blinks so rapidly he may have to blame the mothballs.

“Wait, sir… ‘Taken care of?’”

Simons politely withdraws his hand, which is fine, because it leaves Harry’s free to drop to his side like the dead weight it is. The way Martin is looking at him makes him wonder if perhaps there’s a television camera hidden somewhere, and his own expression will be plastered on newsstands and billboards by morning.

“You didn’t think I’d let you finish out the program without your own Kingsman souvenir, did you?” Martin grins. “The hell with that. It’s time you were fitted for your first proper bespoke. Unless you object, of course.”

“No sir!” Well, that could have been less of a yelp. He swallows, tempers himself, and tries again, managing formality despite his whole face splitting ear-to-ear. “I mean…no, sir. Thank you, sir. I’d be quite honored.”

“Mmhm. That’s what I thought.” The agent points to a heavy door of oak, off to Harry’s left. Simons comes out from behind the counter, a cloth tape measure hung over his shoulder, and Martin claps him on the back. “Give him the works now. This young man is our honored guest.”

“Of course, sir.” Simons does his best impersonation of a five-star doorman, motioning Harry into the room. “This way, please, Mr. Hart. Fitting room one.”

It’s the last thing on earth he’d have to be asked twice. He hustles forward, grateful it doesn’t turn into a cartwheel.

“I’ll be out here when you’re through,” Martin calls.

The fitting room is one of the plainest cubicles of space ever knocked together by man, little more than patterned wallpaper, brass hooks, and varnished wainscoting, but it takes Harry all of four seconds to decide that he loves it every bit as much as the rest of the place. He’s patient with Simons’s meticulous taking of his measurements, lifting arms on command, turning this way and that, holding various swatches of fabric to his chest for God knows how long. That’s the difference between the Kingsman Tailors and anywhere else. When he works here, he’s going to have to do something kind for Simons. A thank-you note, perhaps, with something for his trouble inside. Cinema tickets or something. It’s terribly kind of him to go out of his way for this.

In good time, the tailor excuses himself, returning moments later with a garment bag draping both tabled arms. “Try this, sir,” he bids, hanging the bag on one of the hooks. “It should give you a fair idea. If you find it’s to your liking, then we will proceed with alterations.”

He’s never stared so reverently at a bag before. “Thank you… Thank you kindly.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

This is it. This is the moment he’s imagined since he was a ten-year-old boy, pinning horrible drawings of suits between the butterflies on his walls. The concrete start of his new life.

The garment bag is shed to the floor before Simons is even fully gone. His brain suggests some analogy to a chrysalis, but he can’t be bothered to spare a thought to connect it. He strips to briefs and socks, dressing quickly, his back turned staunchly to the mirror. Stealing a glance too soon will ruin something about this. He isn’t sure what, but it matters.

In a moment, it’s done. He feels the places that need taking in—cuffs at his knuckles, rumpled elbows, puddles at his feet—but he doesn’t care. It’s the most comfortable thing in the world.

He turns around.

The suit is blue, he notices properly. A very, very dark navy blue. Fine pinstripes crawl the length of it. Simons has picked him a tie to match. Navy, with a slim white stripe, centered with a slimmer note of red. He takes in the two rows of handmade buttons. The press of the lapel.

Harry blinks the blur from his eyes. It is the most exquisite thing he’s ever worn.

We’ve done it, Mother. I wish you could see your boy now.

He’s making a mental note to phone her as soon as possible when another tap comes on the door. “Pardon me, sir. Agent Lamorak requests to have a look, if you’ll oblige coming out for a moment.”

He’s absolutely bursting to show someone, anyway. Lamorak will do wonderfully for now. Harry turns the heavy knob, consciously matching his stride to the elegance a suit like this commands. His expression, on the other hand, is under no such control.

Martin stands from the couch, letting out a long whistle. “You’ve outdone yourself, Simons. A few tucks and it’s a work of art.”

“Very kind of you to say, sir.”

“And this comes in the lot, yes?”

“Already ordered to your specifications, sir.”

“You’re a fucking gem.” Martin smiles Harry’s way, holding out a finger with each next word. “Bulletproof, water-resistant, flame-resistant, and conceals up to thirteen highly-classified armaments. There’ll be nothing you can’t do in this, believe you me.”

He believed it already. In front of the showroom mirror, Harry gives a crisp tug to the jacket, straightening his posture even further than it was to begin with. “I really don’t know what to say, sir. I can’t possibly thank you enough; I know this isn’t typical for only a candidate…”

“Nonsense. You’ve earned it.” His mentor takes a pull from a rock glass he’s been holding. Gin, it looks like. “Your weapons and written test scores were absolutely phenomenal.”

Yes, they were, weren’t they? He can’t help it. He’s had a feeling.

“And I’m not permitted to tell you specifics, but I can say that you’ve earned Arthur’s attention on almost every one of your practical tasks.”

That reminds him to ask. He makes eye contact through the mirror, rather than twist round in the suit. “If I may, sir, what was in those parcels we retrieved on the mountain, anyway?”

“In the envelopes? Those were floppy disks.” Swallowing another sip, Martin makes quotations with his hands. “‘Encrypted files of critical importance to international security.’ That’s this year’s bullshit for ‘Arthur’s Doctor Who fan club mailing list.’ Gives him an excuse for missing the last fifteen meetings.”

“You’re kidding.” Of course he isn’t.

“Of course I’m not.”

Why did I ask?

He’s basking in the jovial moment until Martin’s demeanor goes stony, his gaze laser-focused through the window. His tone changes in the drop of a hat.

“Harry, do as I say. Whatever you do, don’t counteract or seem suspicious,” he mutters levelly. “Time to prove your place in the family business.”

The miniature bell above the door jingles. In comes a portly man in an expensive windbreaker, lighting directly on Lamorak. Harry watches, indifferent neutrality on his face, as the newcomer ignores Simons entirely, no acknowledgment—sorry, Simons, he’d do well to remember you’re a person, too—and instead, steps up to grasp Lamorak’s hand.

They shake cordially. “Mr. Kuznetsov,” Lamorak’s far brighter with his greeting than he might’ve been. “On schedule as always.”

“Mr. Evansbee.” An alias; his name is Turner. And this man’s accent is Russian. “How could I miss one of our treasured conversations?” Lamorak set this meeting. Not the first, or the tenth, either. What kind of conversations?

“Please, allow me to introduce a star pupil of mine from the university. I’m helping him to look his finest when he represents us at St. Hugh’s next month. Oliver Greene, this is Mr. Kuznetsov, one of my trustworthiest colleagues.”

Harry doesn’t need a cue. Seamlessly he adopts his new self, shaking the hand he’s offered. “How do you do, sir.”

“I get by.”

He sends Lamorak the most innocuous look he’s got. “Shall I leave you to it, Professor? You’ve been more than enough help already.”

It’s the right decision. Nothing he gets in return suggests a forthcoming reprimand. “Yes, good lad, Oliver. You can go and get your things. I’ll see you in lecture on Monday.”

“Very good, sir. Lovely to meet you, Mr. Kuznetsov.”

“The pleasure is all mine, of course.”

Whatever you do, don’t counteract. His only move is to beeline for the fitting room, then, the outing finished just as quick as it began. The last he sees of Martin, he’s hooked an arm around the Russian’s shoulders, leading the way to the sofas, carrying on a lively discussion in whispers.

So this trip was no coincidence. Harry is implicitly careful as he removes each piece of his suit, hanging one at a time for Simons to collect. He isn’t disappointed. It should have occurred to him from this morning. Whatever Lamorak’s working on must be drawing to a close.

Besides. He could have met the contact here alone. No part of that required having a custom suit made.

Be grateful you were invited in the first place, and don’t ask why it’s over.

Well. He can’t make promises about the second part.

“Good-bye, Simons,” he says aloud near the exit, after saying a silent one to the suit in the fitting room. “I’ve left everything sorted for you.”

“Wonderful, sir. Good-bye.” It’s almost their last exchange, until the tailor catches himself. “Oh, and one more thing, sir?” He’s scribbling in a leather folder.

Harry stops, halfway through the door jamb, hoping it doesn’t count as counteraction. “Yes?”

Simons looks up, beaming friendliness. “I’ve located your file with us to store your measurements. Isn’t today your birthday, sir?”

Yes, it is. He’s all but forgotten that for the past ten minutes.

Harry smiles back. “Twenty-first,” he confirms.

“Happy birthday, sir.”

It’s certainly shaping up to be.

pt. VII | pt. VIII | pt. IX

#Kingsman #Harry Hart #Agent Merlin #Kingsman: The Secret Service #Kingsman: The Golden Circle #fanfic #oh look Aud did a thing #p.s. nobody asked but in case anyone's wondering: his mother's Peggy Carter of SHIELD and his other one is Angie Martinelli #it's @faeriviera's fault and now it's law so there #I leave it vague in this on purpose so y'all can speculate however you want but there it is so have fun

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drawingsdrawingseverywhere · 7 years

Text

Trollhunters Dadswap AU part 18

It’s finally time. Sorry this post has taken so long to write out! My brain has been fighting me every step of the way.

BUT HERE WE GO! TIME TO TIE UP SOME LOOSE ENDS BEFORE THE PLOT GETS HEAD OF ME

FIRST THINGS FIRST, with a short moment of calm among all this madness, Toby still takes time to help his new roomie learn about his new life. This includes convincing Strickler to bargain with Dictatious to find information on AAARRRGGHH!!!’s breed, taking him out of late night adventures with the team so he can get used to this new world (Angor Rot is far better at explaining things to him than Strickler, but hey at least Strickler tries), and even making Flash Cards with Jim and then later quiz the big guy on them.

Speaking of, that’s where we begin.

Toby reads off the cards while Jim reads the answers. For every question right, Toby’s gotten some old VHS tapes no one in the house watches anymore and has them as incentive. AAARRRGGHH!!! sits across from them.

“ok, this is an easy one. You’re walking through the market, and realize there’s a gnome climbing in your fur! what do you do?”

AAARRRGGHH!!! is quiet for a long minute.

“you can do it,” Jim assures him. “almost any answer will work.”

The boys both nod to the troll as he continues to think, until eventually he makes a motion with his hands that could translate to crushing the gnome.

“no no! You can’t kill it! That little guy might have a family to worry about! or he might be another troll’s groomer!”

AAARRRGGHH!!! looks a bit disappointed.

“It’s not a bad answer! I’m pretty sure I’ve seen some trolls who do crush gnomes!” Jim stretches a sec before continuing. “But if we’re going to convince Vendel to let you into the Market, you have to be on your best behavior!”

“yeah! Just try again. I got a copy of a bootleg Jurassic Park with your name on it if you’re willing to try~”

The troll thinks it over and nods.

“ok, so one more time: in the market, spot a gnome in your fur, what do you do?”

Another silence as they wait for an answer. Eventually AAARRRGGHH!!! reaches up to his shoulder and makes a brushing motion.

“You’d just brush it off?” Toby leans in to make sure he recognized the gesture clearly.

Jim and Toby both smile and Toby tosses the tape his way.

“Good Job, AAARRRGGHH!!! That’s a good answer!” Jim holds up the card to show him that’s what they had written down.

“you’re getting better and better every night, big guy!”

It’s then that Toby and the Troll fistbump.

“What’s that all about?” Jim asks.

“oh this? I taught him how to fistbump! He uh... didn’t know his own strength at first but now he’s gotten pretty good at it!

Meanwhile Strickler and Nomura’s search for clues about the bridge’s location continues. Blinky and Dictatious provide them with all the books they have on the subject, including the book edited by Angor Rot. Many of the books lead to dead ends, but the pair remain vigilant. After all, the bridge being opened could spell the doom for all escaped changelings as well as troll and human kind.

Needless to say there’s a lot at stake. Blinky and his brother offer assitance when they can, but with their limited knowledge of the darklands there’s only so much they can do to help. Dictatious soon begins searching through books that even mention the bridge, and Blinky often disappears for days on end before reappearing fresh out of the Gyre tunnels with new books to offer.

until one day

“you will not find the answers you seek in these books.”

Strickler and Nomura look up to see Angor rot and Vendel entering the library.

“the sort of thing you require is a book from the darklands itself that speaks of the bridge.”

Strickler rises, eyes gazing hopefully towards Vendel. “do you... know where we may acquire such a book, Vendel?”

“perhaps.”

There is a silence as Angor Rot looks over at the elder along side the others in the room. His face is as hard and suspicious as ever.

“Though you know I would not trust even knowledge of it’s location in changeling hands.”

Strickler sinks back into his seat in defeat. Nomura reaches over and takes his hand in hers for support. “I.... I see.”

“First, I shall have a look at this troll your soulless friend here has been gnawing at my ear for the past few days over.”

Strickler and Nomura both look back to Vendel who is already beginning to leave.

“then we shall see if I have the information you so desperately seek.”

Lastly, and the most important of all, While Jim has been training with Bular outside the forge, and Strickler within the forge, he’s also taken note of his mother talking very highly about a new coworker at the hospital.

“He’s a miracle worker” she says, “I don’t know how one man could have so much knowledge about the human body, and how he can remember all of it without fail! Thanks to him, patients have been able to go home so much faster than before he arrived.”

“That’s good to hear, mom! I’m glad you’re finally getting some extra help down there.”

“hey, speaking of which, you have some free time after school on Friday? I’d love to take you with me to work and introduce you. Dr. McLaine tells me he’s heard a lot of good things about you!”

Jim hesitates while he’s washing the dishes.

“Sounds... good! I’ll have to make sure my instructors know I wont be able to make it to practice first, but I’d like that.”

“Are you talking rehearsals for the play or Chess club?”

“Well uh... both, actually. I don’t think the director will kill me for missing a rehearsal so long as I let her know in advance, and Strickler-”

“if you need it Jim I can ask Strickler if he’d care to join us. Along the way you can discuss your.... chess... club things, and I can introduce everyone to each other.”

“.... to each other, mom?”

“what?”

Jim gives her a playful smirk.

“Just what have you and my teacher been doing behind my back, young lady?”

Barbra laughs and puts the last plate into the sink before giving him an equally playful bump.

“I respect your teacher, is all. Nothing serious!”

“Mhmm, sure.”

“Jim!”

“Hey, no worries, mom. If you and my teacher decide to run away to vegas it’s your decision!”

That friday, Barbra does just as she said and brings Strickler and Jim to work with her. She walks towards the exceptionally big doctor as he’s going over a patient’s records, and as soon as he looked up to her she gladly introduces him to her companions.

“Doctor, this is my son Jim, and this is his teacher, Professor Walter Strickler. I wanted to bring Jim to work today to introduce you. I figured since it was the night shift things would be calm enough that he could help me out too- if you’re ok with that.”

Bhaltair takes Jim’s small hand into his own massive one and gives it a firm shake.

“It is good to finally meet you face to face, my boy. Your mother has told me many good things about you!” He laughs heartily. “never expected you to be so small, though!”

A warm smile stretches across Bhaltair’s face as he and Strickler shake hands. He seems to be a very warm fellow.

“And you are Walter Strickler!” As Bhaltair shakes his hand, Strickler’s entire arm seems to buckle under his strength and is trapped in the handshake until he finally finishes. “I have heard many a good thing about you as well!”

Jim laughs lightly at the sight of his thin teacher standing beside this mountain of a man, now trapped in his strong grip. Barbra leads him off to help with something and he gladly agrees.

Meanwhile Bhaltair and Strickler continue with their talk.

“You teach at.... Arcadia High, yes?”

“indeed. I am the history professor. it’s... always been a calling of mine.”

“I hear ya! I have plenty of hobbies of my own that I can’t do away with no matter how hard I try.”

“well, such is human nature!”

the men share a laugh before Bhaltair wipes a jovial tear from his eye.

“by the way, you remind me of someone I used to know!”

“Oh?”

“yes! An old business associate of mine. He had a similar love for history and books.”

“whatever happened to him?”

Bhaltair straightens his posture and clears his throat.

“Well he just.... ran off one day. Didn’t leave a note, didn’t tell anyone where he was going... he just... vanished.”

Strickler feels a growing unese as this conversation continues.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“nah, don’t be. I’m sure he had his reasons. Just wish I could see him again.”

Strickler dares to ask:

“Do you... remember you friend’s name?”

Bhaltair glances away and watches Barbra and Jim before laughing to himself.

“I think you’d find it odd if I told you, Mr. Strickler. You two... even have similar sounding names.”

Strickler’s heat freezes in his chest. He nervously laughs and takes a drink from his water bottle.

“I’m sure it’s fine. As you recall I am a history professor. There have been plenty of strange names spanning generations of humanity.”

Bhaltair laughs.

“Alright alright. you convinced me.”

Strickler holds his breath, fearing what this man says next.

“He went by a few different names, back in the day. But we all knew him as ‘Stricklander.”

Strickler is silent a minute as it sinks in, and Bhaltair raises an eyebrow.

“Does that name sound familiar to you, Mr. Strickler?”

The teacher is mute for what to him feels like an eternity before he can come up with a strong enough answer.

“I was trying to recall if i had read it in a history textbook once before. It... sounded like someone I had once read about... Unfortunately I don’t think I have met this ex-coworker of yours.”

Bhaltair hums to himself, slightly narrowing his eyes and nodding. “I understand.” He laughs and, while it would sound humored and hearty to a passerby, Strickler could then clearly hear a venomous twinge of wicked joy in it.

“After all, it’s not like he would just suddenly reappear after eons of searching for him, now would it, Mr. Strickler?”

Strickler tries to laugh and then takes another drink of his water.

“you’re absolutely right. The chances of that occurring are-”

Bhaltair strongly pats his back-almost making him choke on his water- and then puts his hand on Strickler’s shoulder. His laughter grows darker as he leans in.

“It’d be preposterous! Am I right? I mean... To go through all that trouble to vanish... just to show up here of all places.... while I’m visiting on business? The odds are far too out of my favor for it to be at all possible.”

Bhaltair laughs one more time before again standing tall.

“Anyway... I enjoyed our chat, but it is time for me to return to work. You take care, Mr. Strickler.”

Strickler nervously clears his throat.

“yes well... you take care too... Dr...?”

“Bhaltair. Bhaltair McLaine.”

“Dr. McLaine.”

Strickler leaves without another word. Bhaltair watches before returning his attention to Jim. The boy is happily helping his mom tuck in a patient for the night. Bhaltair smiles. His eyes narrow. His nimble fingers lightly trace the engraving of his cane handle- almost as if eager to do something with it.

Mark one rogue history teacher onto his list of traitors.

The game begins.

#Trollhunters #Dadswap AU #IT'S FINALLY HERE #IT'S FINALLY ARRIVED #BAD TIMES ARE A COMIN JIM MY BOY

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