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copper-16 · 1 day

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Tulips and Two Embarrassing Mothers

Elena brings Kaia home to meet Ingrid and Mapi. Which of course leaves them to reminisce on the last time she brought home a partner to meet her parents.

(a/n: Once every blue moon Copper-16 attempts to be funny, despite the fact that she is inherently not a funny person! This is said attempt! Read at your own risk :)

Elena stared at her mother, sitting across the table from her.

Mapi stared right back at her daughter, the two of them seemingly lost in a battle of wills that neither seemed inclined to give up.

Ingrid stared at them from her position leaning back against the kitchen counter, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

“Here is the deal,” Elena said finally, her gaze pointed. “You are going to be nice, you are going to be kind, and most of all? You are going to be normal,” the dark haired girl stressed, her words harsh.

“I will be normal!” Mapi cried out indignantly, and Ingrid finally allowed herself to shake her head slightly, giving in to the urge to roll her eyes.

“Your track record is not exactly the best for this thing, and we both know that,” Elena sassed quickly, and Mapi slapped her hand over her heart, feigning that she was quite hurt by the statement.

“Oh for Christ’s sake Mami, really? Do you need a reminder of what exactly happened last time?!” Elena fought easily, and Mapi stuck her nose up in the air, shaking her head.

“I have no clue what you are talking about,” she shook her head stubbornly, and her daughter allowed her head to drop into her hands with frustration.

—

Elena was seventeen, and it was the first time she was bringing a partner home to meet her parents.

Which would have been fine, if not for the conversation that had happened the week prior at the dinner table.

“Mami, Mama? I need to tell you something,” she explained as she set down her fork, both of her mothers looking up at her with concern.

“What is it baby?” Ingrid asked softly, leaning forward with worry. The teenager seemed stressed about something, but neither of them knew what it was about.

“Well, I…uh…I’m seeing someone. We are dating, in fact,” she explained, and her mother’s faces relaxed from concern to excitement.

“Oh honey that is wonderful!” Mapi exclaimed, feeling a little better now that she knew it was not something bad. Elena seemed to perk up at her mother’s reaction, some of her nerves dissipating at their clear ease. She had been worried that they would be upset with her, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

“And well…I was wondering if he could come for dinner so that you could meet him,” she continued, and Ingrid nodded her head with an easy smile on her face, very open to the idea.

Mapi was also nodding her head, before she paused. It was a slight misstep, just a brief pause, before the smile was back on her face, just in a slightly more forced fashion.

Elena had scampered off to her room after dinner, leaving the two wives alone to clean up the kitchen for the night.

“Boyfriend?! She has a boyfriend?!” Mapi whisper screamed as she rushed after Ingrid into the kitchen. The Norwegian jumped at the sudden intrusion of her wife in her personal space, and she looked back at the Spaniard as though she had grown another head.

“What? What is wrong? We always said we were okay with her dating, we just wanted her to be honest with us,” Ingrid remembered simply, not entirely understanding her wife’s outburst.

“But a boyfriend?!” Mapi hissed, and Ingrid’s expression dropped as she began to understand.

“María, just because we are gay doesn’t mean that our daughter is,” the green eyed woman explained slowly, keeping her voice level.

“But you gave birth to her! You are the gayest person I know, look at your outfit! Look at your hands!” Mapi cried, as though this was a logical argument. Ingrid looked down first at the clothes that she was wearing, and then at her hands for a moment with complete confusion before she shook her head, refocusing on the conversation.

“The fact that she came out of me, who is gay, has nothing to do with whether or not she will be gay,” Ingrid reasoned, and the Spaniard threw her head back dramatically, sighing heavily.

“But now we have to follow the boyfriend protocol! I need to scare him! Show him that he will never be good enough for my little girl!” Mapi claimed, as the dark haired woman’s expression shifted to one of thinly veiled horror.

“María min, you will do no such thing. I promise you, that is not what Elena needs from us,” Ingrid pleaded, knowing that her wife’s mind was already running with possibilities, none of which could be any good.

“No, no, I need to prepare,” Mapi declared, pressing a kiss to her wife’s cheek before she left Ingrid in the kitchen, marching off to her office to get up to nothing good, that the Norwegian was sure of. The dark haired woman looked down at her hands once more, turning them over and back again before she shook her head, calling after her wife.

“What do you mean, my hands are gay? What does that mean?!”

—

Elena and Ingrid were preparing dinner when Mapi sauntered down the stairs, and both her daughter and wife turned at the sound of her entrance.

For Ingrid, she had to attempt to hold back her laughter. For Elena, her jaw dropped open in shock, and not in a good way.

“Mami, no!” Elena called out in despair, taking in the Spaniard’s outfit.

Mapi was dressed in head to toe black formal wear. She had on a black button up, with black slacks and a black belt. Sunglasses sat over her eyes, never mind the fact that they were indoors.

“You look like you are in the Secret Service!” Elena cried despondently, and Mapi smiled victoriously.

“You said he is from America, no? He will be scared of me then, if I am dressed like the Secret Service,” she reasoned, as Elena dropped her head into her hands, her face flushing with embarrassment. It was true that the boyfriend, Grayson, was American. His mother worked in diplomacy and was settled here in Spain with her family, where Grayson attended the same private school that Elena did.

“We met in my statistics class, it’s not like he stalked me!” Elena cried, her eyes roving over the outfit. “Mami, you cannot wear this. Tell her Mama!” The teenager tried, looking back at her other mother hopefully.

“I already tried to talk her out of it! She was…insistent,” Ingrid replied diplomatically, trying to seem like she wasn’t about to burst out laughing. She was dressed in a simple sundress, far more normal than whatever getup Mapi was wearing. The Spaniard had by now taken off her sunglasses, making the whole getup slightly more palatable, but the teenager still had many complaints to be heard.

But before Elena could even start to beg her mother to change, there was a knock at the door.

Mapi turned toward the door, as did Elena at the same time, but her daughter was entirely unprepared for the mad rush that the Spaniard would make for the door, making it there before Elena and wrenching it open.

On the opposite side stood a teenage boy, exactly as one would expect to find him. He looked a little squirrely already, holding a bouquet of tulips in his hand. He shifted from side to side, looking a little more perplexed than truly scared at Mapi standing in the doorframe.

The former center back looked the boy up and down, clearly surveying him with a frown plastered onto her face.

“Uh…hola?” The boy asked hesitantly, his face filling just slightly with relief when Elena’s face popped over her mother’s right shoulder.

“Elena!” He smiled, but it dropped slightly when Mapi shifted to the side, suddenly blocking Elena from view. She still hadn’t moved from the doorframe, not allowing the boy any further into their home.

“Mami, let him in!” Elena hissed, tugging at her mother’s arm. Mapi gave it another thirty seconds before she finally moved, grumbling under her breath. The teenager shot her boyfriend an apologetic look as she ushered him inside, allowing him to hand the flowers to Ingrid, who took them with a gentle nod of her head.

As much as Mapi was putting a show on about it, Ingrid was still a little skeptical about the boyfriend as well. She was being perfectly friendly, which was more than her wife could say, but she was still on alert.

“Come on, we are going to have dinner,” Elena stepped forward to grab the boy's hand, leading him insistently toward the set table that was out on their patio.

“Hey, hey, everyone hands to themselves!” Mapi called out, and her daughter obeyed but not without shooting a death glare back at her. Ingrid looked equally unimpressed, wiping her hands on a towel as she shot her wife a look.

“We might be instigating a bit of a double standard here,”

“Hey, you and I are married! She is a baby!” Mapi argued heavily, but Ingrid wasn’t impressed.

“We both know that we would have been horribly insufferable if we had met when we were younger. You were a horny mess when I met you at twenty five, I could not imagine you at seventeen,” Ingrid remarked with a hint of sarcasm, as Mapi shoved her respective pointer fingers into her ears, screwing her eyes shut as well.

“Oh gross! La la la la la—I can’t hear you!” She called out as she moved toward the sliding glass door, joining the two students at the table as Ingrid brought out the last of the food.

Things didn’t get much better once they had sat down, all of them beginning to make some small talk. Ingrid asked Grayson about his family and his time in Spain, curious as to what the life of a diplomat's son would be like. He answered kindly, speaking animatedly but with a good intelligence.

He overall seemed like a good young man, but despite that, Mapi still glared at him as she ate, her chest puffed out more than necessary.

“You two met in school, yes?” Ingrid inquired politely, and Elena nodded as she took a bite of chicken, unprepared for her mother’s next question.

“So, Grayson, do you make it a habit to always approach girls in these classes to ask them out?” Mapi accused, her words taut with a clear insinuation. Elena choked on the bite of food she was eating, swallowing roughly as she clawed for her glass of water, her face flushing red.

“Mami!” She snapped under her breath.

“Um…no? Elena was the one who asked me out, actually,” he admitted, and like a balloon, Mapi seemed to deflate.

“Oh. That is very…female forward of you,” she conceded, murmuring it more to herself than anything else. Ingrid rolled her eyes, turning the conversation away from the awkward question.

“You both used to play football, right?” Grayson asked, and Ingrid nodded, as did Mapi.

“Did you play at Barcelona?” He asked, seeming to grow more excited. The Norwegian nodded once more, a smile slipping onto her face as she looked over at her wife.

“We played together, as center backs,” Ingrid explained, and the teenager lit up with excitement.

“Wow, that is so cool! My family are big Barcelona fans, I grew up watching them. That is so cool that you both played there so long,” he replied, trying to be friendly.

“See Mami, he is a Barcelona fan! Isn’t that nice?” Elena probed, looking at Mapi hopefully. The brunette grumbled in agreement, spearing another piece of asparagus on her fork and shoving it in her mouth to avoid speaking more.

In the end, it was Ingrid who scared the poor boy more than Mapi ever did. The Spaniard was too big making an accidental fool of herself entirely to really be all that effective in ‘scaring’ anyone, and the Norwegian’s quiet demeanor and piercing gaze turned out to be much better tactics for inciting fear, had that been the goal.

It was only when the door shut on Grayson that Mapi turned to her wife and daughter, a big smile on her face.

“I thought that went very well!” She declared, watching as both her wife and daughter’s heads dropped into their respective hands in unison.

“Well, at least nobody will claim you two aren’t related,” the brunette sighed as she moved away from them, feeling quite content with her (slightly ridiculous) actions.

“I am never speaking to you again!” Elena yelled down at her as she walked up the stairs, rolling her eyes at how horrible the whole dinner had gone.

—

“I don’t see why you aren’t getting mad at her, she was the one who actually scared him!” Mapi reminded her daughter helpfully, pointing to Ingrid and entirely throwing her under the bus.

“On accident! She scared him on accident!” Elena interjected, and Mapi threw a look at the dark haired woman, narrowing her eyes.

“By accident! Have you seen her - she doesn’t do things by accident!”

“I sure don’t,” she replied to her wife with an almost sultry undertone, and Elena gagged.

“Gross, both of you! Keep it in your pants and together, please. You are going to be normal,” she pointed to Mapi first.

“And you are going to be nice!” She turned to Ingrid, one eyebrow raised. Both of her mothers raised their hands in surrender, before promising their daughter that they would do their best to keep things kind.

It was the first time her mothers were meeting Kaia. They had been dating for nearly a year at this point, but with the busy schedule of Kaia’s playing and Elena’s schooling, they hadn’t been able to coordinate for the striker to meet Mapi and Ingrid.

They had technically met when the English girl was much younger, but it was the first time she was meeting them as Elena’s girlfriend. It was also the first time that she was introducing a partner to her parents since Grayson, and she was hinging on it going well.

She really liked Kaia. The green eyed girl hadn’t dated a whole lot of people, but there was something about the footballer that felt…different. In the best way possible.

Mapi is dressed in a nice white polo and some khaki slacks, a far cry from the Dracula inspired outfit she was wearing the last time. Ingrid has a t-shirt and a flowing skirt on, and it is she who offers to get the door when it rings, saving the student and Spaniard as Elena hurriedly reminds her mother of about ten more things to remember when meeting her girlfriend.

“Kaia, hello!” Ingrid cries happily as she opens the door, immediately pulling the striker into a hug. She ushers the girl inside with a smile, and Elena does a double take when she realizes that her girlfriend is holding a bouquet of tulips, much like Grayson had.

She hops up from the table, all but floating over to her girlfriend happily as she presses a kiss to her cheek, before she wraps her arms around the English girl, holding her tightly in her arms for a second.

Perhaps, to protect her from the onslaught she is sure to receive from her mothers when she lets her go.

But the daughter of the two former Barcelona center backs has absolutely nothing to worry about, it turns out.

Because as though they have been magically cured of their skepticism, Mapi and Ingrid couldn’t be nicer.

“You are so much bigger now, but I still remember when you were so little! Maren would visit and bring you to camp and we would always coo over how adorable you were,” Ingrid reminisces, as Kaia blushes slightly.

“I hardly remember it, but I’m sure I loved going,” she gushed, placing the salad on the table as all of the women sat down together.

“And you are playing at Chelsea now, is that correct?” Mapi asks, her voice friendly and open, as her daughter sitting next to her stares at her in shock.

“Yes! They called me back from my loan from Hammarby last season and I’ve been playing with them for the year, it’s been a wonderful experience,” Kaia explained, and the Spaniard nodded slowly, considering her words.

“Any interest in the Spanish league?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. Kaia was quick to affirm her question.

“Yes, absolutely! That is the goal, especially with Kaia being here for the next few years with school,” she explained, and approval shined in the Spaniard’s eyes as she nodded, before Ingrid moved the conversation along.

It was only when Kaia got up to use the restroom that Elena whirled around to her mother, looking full of skepticism.

“What is this!” She exclaimed, and Mapi’s eyebrows furrowed in instant confusion.

“What do you mean!” She huffed, confused by the doubt present in her daughter's expression.

“You are acting so…so normal!” Elena observed as Mapi’s expression shifted to one of indignancy.

“I am normal! Tell her amor, I am so normal!” The brunette stressed, but Ingrid took one look at the pair and threw her hands up, standing up to clear the table to bring out dessert.

“Oh no, there’s no way I’m getting involved in this discussion,” she clarified, leaving the two alone at the table.

“When I brought Grayson home, you were the opposite of normal! You were absolutely deranged!”

“Deranged might be a bit strong. I prefer overprotective,” Mapi denied helpfully, standing up from the table to go help Ingrid. “Besides, that boy was not good for you. Kaia is much better for you, much better to you.”

Elena’s eyes narrowed as her mother spoke, her brain working overtime to discern the true meaning behind her words.

“Is this because Kaia is a girl and Grayson was not?!” She realized, and while Mapi didn’t reply, her expression told the Spanish student everything she needed to know.

“This is reverse discrimination!” Elena hissed, as Mapi looked back at her with an overly innocent face whilst she moved toward the kitchen.

“What was that hon?” She called out, a rather devious grin on her face as her daughter sent her what must be her fifth death glare of the night.

Mapi had just disappeared into the kitchen when Kaia walked around the corner, finding her girlfriend looking rather annoyed, a classic Elena expression.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” She asked instantly, one of her eyebrows raising as she looked around, expecting to find something amiss. Instead, all she saw was Mapi and Ingrid headed back to the table with dessert, smiling at one another.

Elena caught one glimpse of them and groaned, running her hand over her face in slight frustration. She looked up at the English girl with an exasperated face as she shook her head.

“Don’t even ask!"

#woso #ingrid engen #mapi leon #ingrid x mapi x daughter #barcelona femeni #this is my attempt at being funny

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shark0zu · 1 day

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JJK boys when someone calls their s/o ‘ugly’

(prompt credit to kazenomegaminowanpisu)

pair: JJK boys x GN! Reader warning: harsh words and curse words. featuring: Toji, Satoru, Suguru, Hiromi, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Shiu, Yuji, Megumi and Ino. content: JJK men being (aggressive) cuties and caring for their s/o <3

an: i’m very delusional and I made this while in my English class.

TOJI— » he will look at the person who called you ugly. He will— just stare. No words. No actions. Just stare as he grabs you by the waist. At some point the person who dared call you ugly just- leaves… scared.

SATORU— » drama queen. He will ignore the person who said you were ugly. “Ugly? Did you hear something dear? Maybe a disgusting lil’ nobody was trying to talk?” He says rather loud. Loud enough to let the person know to fuck off.

SUGURU— “monkey.” He says. “Look at yourself first, then maybe… just maybe you can start to talk about other people, yeah?” He smiles, no remorse behind that smile. He then takes you by the hand and walks away with you.

HIROMI— » he hears someone calling you ugly? He takes your hand, leads you to some place else. Very mature about it, can’t be bothered to deal with anyone or make a scene over some person who probably just wanted attention. He compliments you and reassures you how much he loves you.

NANAMI— » he either does not have time to be bothered or is too bothered to let it go. Will take you by the waist and lead you somewhere while telling you not to listen to the person or he will approach the person and tell them to kindly fuck off- as kindly as he can, depends on how pissed he was that day.

CHOSO— » will get extremely angry, but won’t know what to do. You end up telling him “it's ok, I really don’t care” to calm him down. Will intertwined his fingers with yours, kissing the top of your hand and telling you how beautiful you are. (certified cutie pie)

SUKUNA— version 1: he cares about you » he will look at the person and simply cut them in half. Like c’mon- if he truly cares for you, this man will not let any sort of harm come your way (verbally or not). Will not hesitate to kill either.

version 2: he can’t be bothered (“realistic”) » he’d agreed with the person. You get sad of course, he’ll laugh at your misery (no remorse). He is the King of Curses after all, extremely nonchalant, he steals and eats souls- without having one of his own.

SHIU— » will simply take out a cigarette, take a puff, and blow it out on the person’s face to piss them off. He will smile and ‘apologize’, “oh sorry, didn’t see ya there.” Polite as ever, with hidden intentions.

YUJI— » this boy thinks you are the most beautiful thing in the world (and it's true, you are), so when someone dares to say otherwise he gets defensive. “What did you just say?” He approaches the person cracking his knuckles. “ Care. To. Repeat.?” Safe to say the person apologized and ran off.

MEGUMI— » very calm and collected. He ignores the person and keeps walking as if nothing happened. After a while he will ask you ‘how you are’, making sure you are ok. If you want to talk about what happened, he will always be there for you.

INO— » energetic ass oh my. “Ugly.” Said the person pointing at you. Ino SNAPS his head towards the person who dared address you. Staring them up and down and making a judgmental face. Making the person feel uncomfortable and self-conscious. Then he screams “THEY ARE NOT UGLY YOU MOTHER FU-!” you end up shutting his mouth (for the better of everyone).

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chosows · 15 hours

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TRAIN RIDES 🚞

Hiromi Higuruma x Fem Reader

Summary: Due to attending your parents’ marriage anniversary, they have provided your transportation on a luxury train that will travel across the country. With your lack of experience in high-class transport, you found yourself lost upon boarding. While roaming around, you spot a man who looks like he could assist you.

Word count: 3.7k

Contains: Smut, face riding, cowgirl, missionary, cunnilingus, train ride, fem reader, descriptions of intimacy, smut, hookup, no established relationship, alternative universe: no curses

Note: i wish i was on a luxury train — cross posting tomorrow on ao3 because i’m too tired

Boarding a train was always an overwhelming task, especially when it was your first time on a luxurious train. It was huge, spanning across several carriages. Everyone around you seemed to know exactly where they were going, all suited up in formal attire while you were in casual clothing. Panic settled in as you watched the world move through the window, realising you’ll need to find your seat soon. You walked through the endless rows, peeking at the numbers, though none seemed to match the one you were given. You felt sick, it was mortifying knowing there were eyes glued to you as you dragged your suitcase behind you—you couldn’t make more noise if you tried. Entering a new carriage, you spot a man who isn’t glued to a piece of technology—your potential saving grace.

“Excuse me, could you check my ticket? I can’t find my seat.” You suck in your lower lip as you extend your hand, the man in the suit slowly lifts his head from his paperwork.

“It’s been fifteen minutes; have you been walking around the entire time?” His voice was monotone, but he didn’t intend to be brash—it seemed to be a sincere question.

“Yes, this train is too big. I knew I should’ve just driven.”

“You would’ve paid a month's worth of rent on gas; your seat is right here by the way.” He shifts his briefcase and you say your thanks, awkwardly scooting in beside him. As soon as you put your headphones over your ears, he struck up a new conversation.

“I’m Hiromi; it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Since you were unable to hear him correctly, you bat your eyelashes, causing him to crack a smile, “Hiromi. What’s your name?”

“Oh, sorry,” You turn your music on pause and share your name, apologising for your ignorance, “I assumed you were busy with all those documents.”

“I was skimming through my folder; I have to make sure I have everything prepared for my client’s case.”

“Very interesting, and probably extremely confidential.” You pout your lips, desperate for him to be quiet. It’s not him who is the problem, you are pleading to destress from the walk of shame you went on.

“That’s right,” He copies your expression, smirking to himself while he packs his briefcase again, “It’s a good thing I don’t have a wife.”

“Why?”

“I have to travel constantly for work, she’d get lonely.”

“Being single is better anyway; you don’t have to worry about keeping another person happy all the time.”

“That’s definitely one outlook.”

“I’m going to listen to my music now; it was nice to talk to you, Hiromi,” You say cheerfully, giving him a sincere smile before your eyes drift to your phone.

Rather than returning the courtesy, he simply nods his head. This train runs overnight, meaning the two of you are bound to spend hours by one another’s side. He was respectful and stayed within his boundaries; out of the corner of your eye, you could catch a glimpse of him flipping through a novel. Since you couldn’t afford one of the rooms this train has to offer, you begin dozing off beside him. Your head droops down and your phone crashes to the floor, but you don’t wake up. Hiromi glances at you, noticing you are fast asleep; with little to no other option, he leans over you and attempts to pick it up. Due to the abrupt grazing of your legs, your eyes flutter open and you find Hiromi hunched over.

“Your phone, sweetheart. I can’t reach it.” He points to your phone flat in the middle of the aisle and you scurry to pick it up.

“Thank you.” You check your screen for any cracks, then rest your head back against the seat; it wasn’t comfortable, but it would have to do.

“Are you tired?” Hiromi takes a sip of his water and then turns to face you.

“I’m exhausted—I just want to go to sleep.”

“I have a room if you’d like to use it; you should’ve told me.” He rummages through the pocket of his blazer and reveals the keycard—it’s one of the more expensive rooms this train possesses.

“Oh, you don’t have to. I sleep on trains all the time; I’m used to this—”

“If you’re tired, you need proper rest. I’ll take you to the room and you can have a look in; you might change your mind.” He stands up, meaning you also have to stand in order to let him out. Your suitcase and your purse are dragged along as he strides forward with the baggage, leaving you to sprint behind him.

Reaching the new carriage, you are taken back by extravagant decor—you almost forgot you were on a train. He beckons you over while he scans his card, allowing you to take a step inside. You were in awe, it had a double bed and a small desk space—it even had a dining table. The warm yellow lighting made the wooden interior appear cosy, much like the floral duvet—it reminded you of your grandparents’ home. You spin around to Hiromi who had taken his blazer off and loosened his tie, now realising how sunken his eyes were from lack of sleep. Perhaps he needed this more than you—it would be unfair to take something that someone else had spent their hard-earned money on.

“It’s lovely here, but I can’t take it from you. You’re going to need more sleep than me.” You clasp your hands together and provide him with a soft smile, only to hear him chuckle.

“Take the bed, it’s yours. I’ll be fine, I do appreciate your concern though.”

“Are you sure?” You sit down on the mattress, instantly melting into the rich memory foam. It moulds around you, cushioning every inch of your body.

“I’m certain. Why are you on this train—work-related?” Hiromi asks from the dining table, staring over at your limp body.

“No, family-related. I have to celebrate my parents’ wedding anniversary.”

“Sounds like it will be fun,” He rolls up the sleeves of his white cotton shirt, revealing the watch on his wrist, “It’s better than what I’m doing.”

“You’re a lawyer, right? Or did I make that up?” You roll over onto your stomach and lock eyes with him, growing comfortable in his presence quickly.

“Unfortunately. It’s a nightmare, I wish I wasn’t.”

“I’ve never met a lawyer before; law is one of the most desirable courses for young people studying. Guess they have their hopes too high.”

“Absolutely—far too high. They think it’s fun when they’re twenty, then it hits them full force when they’re thirty-six.”

“You’re thirty-six? I thought you were younger—maybe twenty-eight.”

“I’m flattered, but no. I’m thirty-six and I feel like shit to put it simply. I should’ve gone into finance.”

“Being a lawyer is more impressive. You look like you’re good at your job; you dress well and you seem professional.”

“I’m glad you think so, but I’m not the most professional out there—not when I’m out of work.”

“Do you live a double life? Lawyer by day, male stripper by night.” You motion your hands in the air and laugh, hearing him join in with your absurd sense of humour.

“Male prostitute, actually. It’s going to cost you for this conversation; I charge $10 per every five minutes.”

“Do you take card? I have no cash.”

“You’ll have to find a way to make some then.”

“You’re funny, Hiromi. Do you live in the town we departed from?” Your eyes drift up as he approaches the bed, locked on him without shifting.

“Live and work there; I have for a while.”

“Could I get your number? It’d be nice to keep in contact with you.”

“Give me your phone, I’ll type it in.” He takes a seat next to you while you pass him your phone, observing him as he creates the new contact.

“What brand is your watch? It looks fancy.” You poke his forearm and he places your phone down on the bed, rotating his wrist for you to see the watch face.

“Vacheron Constantin.”

“That sounds expensive—it’s gorgeous.” It was completely silver, gleaming in the light. He undoes the strap and puts it on you, allowing you to temporarily wear it.

“It was, the price isn’t important though. It looks pretty on you.” His smile widens, revealing his straight set of teeth. Hiromi isn’t a bad-looking man, he also has a similar sense of humour to you—you were lucky to have bumped into someone like-minded.

“It’s a little too big for me, I’ll have to give it back.” You extend your wrist forward then draw it away, taunting him playfully.

“I thought you were tired.” He continues attempting to grab your arm, but you dodge him each time.

“I am, you’re just too slow.”

After a back and forth of him trying to grab your arm, he pushes you flat into the pillow and forcefully grabs your wrist. You turn your head to the side, sensing yourself burn up from the contact; he was on top of you, removing the watch. When he’s finished securing the watch in place on his wrist, he notices how silent you become. He lies down beside you and groans, his hands resting on his abdomen, untucking his shirt.

“Have I destroyed this friendship already?” Hiromi clears his throat, then ruffles up his hair since it has gotten messy.

“No, far from it. I like to play around.” You raise your hand in the air, stretching your fingers and then the rest of your body in turn; the yawn you had been holding back finally escaped.

“People who play with me always lose,” He meets your hand mid-air and gets intertwined with it, shaking it side to side, “Especially when they’re sleepy.”

“That feels targeted.”

“Maybe it was.”

“A lawyer has never won against me; I suppose you’ll be the first to lose.” You bite your lip and roll over onto your side to meet him; a smug expression takes over his face, twisting his lips up into a smirk.

“I like your confidence.” He places your hand on his chest and shifts your position, now straddling him.

“Do you?—” Your fingers brush against his face as you loom over him, “—Your skin is so smooth, wow.”

“Yeah, I get quite a bit of stubble but I prefer the clean shave.”

“You’re cute, Hiromi.” You continue to stroke his face; his brows furrow after he hears your words and he chuckles.

“Cute?”

“Handsome, attractive—whatever you want to call it. You’re good looking and I like your personality.” You retract your hand and beam at him; his expression significantly warms, and the grip he had on your hips becomes lighter.

“I wasn’t expecting that; a lot of people find me to be bland. Speaking to someone with a similar sense of humour is refreshing.”

“If you’re bland, we must be two of the most boring people.”

“We probably are,” He snickers, his eyes drifting from your face and down your torso, “Maybe not you, but me.”

“I don’t believe that; I think you have a fun side, everyone does.”

“How am I supposed to flirt with a woman like you while I’m sober? You’re stunning; I don’t know what to say to you.”

“You’ve been doing a good job,” You play with his tie, loosening it while you wrap it around your hand, “Do you speak to many women?”

“You’re hilarious,” He scoffs, squinting his eyes while he glares at you, “I’m not that bad. I’m not used to flirting with new people, that’s all.”

“Were you never the type of clubbing guy?”

“I think it’s a waste of money—there’s hardly any class in a club; don’t take that the wrong way. I prefer more meaningful ways of meeting someone.”

“What’s a more meaningful way then?”

“Becoming acquaintances with a lost lady on a train, assisting her when she dropped her phone, and allowing her to take my room because she claimed she was so tired. Though I don’t think she was that tired, clearly.”

Thumping fills your ears as your heartbeat increases, drowning out all other sounds while becoming flustered by his statement. Hiromi had a way with his words; even the most basic statement uttered with the correct tone would prompt you to feel some type of way. It’s a powerful yet effective charismatic trait—likely one he uses in the courtroom. With a gentle hold on your jaw, he lures you down closer, brushing his thumb over your lips. Your lip gloss was smeared across his skin, but he continued the motion. You refrain from making the first move; if this is all a big game, you aren’t going to be the one to lose. He continues muttering out compliments under his breath, then draws himself just a centimetre away. His breath was hot on your skin. The sexual tension is at its peak; it’s bursting at the seams, begging to be released. Unable to stand it much longer, you press your lips to his and lose yourself in his kiss.

One hand is on the back of your head and the other is on the small of your back, pushing you as close as he can to deepen the kiss. You could feel his boner forming through his pants, though you were in no position to comment as the damp patch forming in your panties grew. An experienced kisser, but you believe these lips haven’t kissed many women. Hiromi had always been the long-term relationship type of guy until his last breakup; he had given up on finding love—it would only waste his time searching through women to find the right one. His hands slip under the fabric of your top and he unclasps your bra, sliding the straps down from your shoulders. To catch his breath, he breaks free from you and watches as you take your top off, revealing your exposed breasts.

“You are gorgeous,” He gropes your breasts, not enough to invoke pain but enough to generate a slight increase in pleasure, “Perfect even. A woman like you shouldn’t still be single—what type of man could fail you? I’d do anything to make you happy.”

“What type of woman could fail you?” You repeat his statement, altering it slightly. If you were Hiromi’s ex-girlfriend, you wouldn’t have hesitated to tie the knot as soon as you got engaged.

He didn’t answer your question—he was too focused on getting you out of your pants. After undoing the button, he tugs them down and reveals your panties. You hadn’t been expecting to end up in a scenario like this so you were in potentially your worst underwear set—it is far from sexy, but he doesn’t seem to care. Your chest was heaving as his fingers skimmed your inner thigh, hooking onto your panties and guiding them down slowly. While you were fully naked, he was entirely clothed. The power dynamic was in his hands. He pushes you forward, moving your hips further up his body just before his mouth.

“Don’t be shy, ride my face. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.” While you’ve been eaten out before, you have never been in this position. It was strange to experiment so suddenly, but your body was urging for his touch.

“Will you be okay?” You wrap your fingers around strands of his hair, hovering over him while waiting for confirmation.

“I’ve done this before; you have nothing to worry about. I’ll be fine, so will you.” He squeezes the flesh of your waist, reassuring you that you have no reason to doubt his word. He guides you as you lower yourself, planting your pussy on top of his mouth.

The first flick of his tongue gathered up your slick, but he gave you nothing more. He slapped your ass gently, widening his eyes to signal you to begin moving. You sway your hips as he works his tongue, building up an orgasm faster than you have before. Though you were poking fun at him earlier, you’re convinced this is the first pussy Hiromi has indulged in for a long time. He was starved, sucking your clit and lapping his tongue in all of the correct places. He knew how to stimulate you, and he knew just how to hit those sweet spots. You had taken advantage of your position, grinding against him as his hooked nose bumped into you. The sweet taste you provided was causing him to strain, his tip beginning to leak pre-cum in his freshly cleaned suit. He grumbles as you continue, his fingers grasping you hard enough to the point they leave indents in your skin. You found yourself moaning legitimately rather than forcing it—little whimpers flying out between your laugh provided by the satisfaction.

“Hiromi,” You mutter his name, his hazy eyes opening and locking with yours. He was intoxicated by ravishing your cunt, and his expression had pushed you closer to the edge of a climax.

The coil in your core had snapped before you had time to alert him you were cumming, resulting in a whine as he continued to collect anything remaining. Your eyes became half-lidded until the sound of his phone buzzing caught both of your attention. Hiromi couldn’t care less of who attempted to contact him while he still had you in his hands; he lifted you from his mouth and flipped you over, pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb. He spits what cum remains in your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself as he’s busy unbuckling his belt. No one had ever made you feel so mighty and then so belittled in the span of minutes, but you liked the treatment you were receiving. He wipes his face clean with the back of his hand and continues exploring every inch of you.

In moments, he was in his boxers. A faint trail of hair was present at the lower end of his abdomen, leading down into his boxers. Though he wasn’t in perfect shape, he was toned and his muscles were present. You could see the outline of his dick, switching your gaze between it and his face. He leaned over to pick up his briefcase, searching for his wallet. When he finds it, he pulls out a condom and tears it with his teeth, turning away as he puts it on. You close your legs over and he turns back to you, his entire length on show.

“I forgot how awkward this was,” He grunts as he scoots his way closer to you, prying your legs apart to situate himself between them, “Are you okay?”

You nod your head, unable to get words out of your mouth. He took your breath away; the fact he is embarrassed baffles you. Positioning his tip at your entrance, he allows himself to lubricate using your slick. Since both of you were breathing heavily, he locks his fingers with your hands and inches his way in, hushing you to remind you that there are other people nearby. You had completely forgotten you were on a train. He slips in quickly, finding an adequate rhythm to thrust into you. Hiromi enjoyed seeing your face contort as he hit you in deeper spots, but this position was growing old. A woman as divine as you deserves to be on full display. He continues to thrust into you in that position before pulling out and rolling over, planting you on top of his dick.

You slipped him back into your sopping hole and began to bounce, riding him in a way that chased your climax. The girth of his dick filled you up nicely, his tip rubbing repeatedly against a sweet spot found deep inside of you. He would groan as you rocked your hips, his eyes fluttering back to resist his cum from shooting into the condom. A true gentleman of the sort, prioritising your sexual needs before his—he was letting you use him without saying a singular word. Your walls begin to tighten around him, finding yourself coming undone for a second time this evening. As you begin to lose stamina, he takes control and begins pushing into you. You droop forward and snuggle your face into the crook of his neck, placing kisses and bites in areas the collar of his shirt would cover. One thing for sure is that you’re going to give him something to remember by the end of this train ride.

His face scrunched up as he released his load, moaning quietly as the condom filled up. He thrust you down on him a final few times before slipping out of you, his dick becoming flaccid. He pulls your head back and stares at your exhausted face; if you weren’t tired, you were now. Hiromi finds himself in a predicament as he realises he has nowhere to toss his used condom, so he rolls out of bed and takes it off, switching into his more neutral attire as you remain flat on the bed. The door to the room slams shut and you sit up, rubbing your eyes to prevent the drowsiness from winning. You climb back into your lingerie and put his shirt on, doing up the first few buttons. It was large on you, but it did the job of providing comfort. A few minutes go by and he returns, giving his full attention to the phone before he glances back your way.

“The trial got pushed back a few days; do you think there’s room for one more at your parents’ party?” He’s testing his luck—he’ll have nothing else to do in this city until the new date of the trial arrives.

“Don’t wear anything fancy then—I don’t need them asking me questions.”

“I won’t. That was good sex,” He sinks into the bed and pulls you into an embrace, tackling you to the mattress, “Do you want the whole cuddle thing or is it too soon for that?”

“It’s never too soon for a cuddle.” Your face lights up with a smile, squeezing him back while pressing your cheek into his chest.

“You lost by the way.”

“How? You initiated.”

“You came first. Since I won, I’d like to take you on a date. We can do anything you’d like; I have a week free.”

#higuruma x reader #higuruma smut #jjk higuruma #higuruma x y/n #higuruma hiromi #jjk #oneshot #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #alternate universe #smut

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fuctacles · 3 days

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@steddiesummerexchange for @chaosgremlinmunson | part 1/3 for easier reading on tumblr, but will be posted as a one-shot on Ao3 later | thanks @stevesjockstrap for beta-reading and mental support 💚

The shop was never busy. Aside from Valentine’s Day and Christmas, it was a lot of goofing around and packing online orders. And since it was pouring on a Tuesday afternoon, they expected no customers until closing, which was more than okay with them. They didn't choose it because it was popular. They chose it because their younger friends were too embarrassed to bother them here.

“It’s getting pretty bad,” Steve points out, squinting through the window. “I don’t wanna drive in this weather.”

Robin looks up just in time to catch a flash of lightning splitting the dark clouds outside.

“Maybe it will let up before we close.”

Thunder crackles above them, and Steve raises his eyebrow skeptically.

“We can wait it out in the pizzeria across the street,” she offers then.

“I like the way you think.”

There’s a loud bang as their doors slam open, letting inside some of the summer storm carnage. Despite the size of the shop, they can feel the cold rain on their faces, and for a second, the sound of the storm is deafening. It cuts off as suddenly as it started but is replaced by loud, displeased sounds of two figures drenched to the bone.

“Holy fucking shit!” a wet rat dripping on their floor curses loudly. He shakes his hands creating a small waterfall down the lapels of his leather jacket. The figure next to him drops down the hood of their jacket with a wet smack.

“Holy shitting fuck,” she agrees.

“They better be selling towels here.”

“Uh...” The unhooded figure, a short blonde, looks around curiously. “I’m afraid not.”

This prompts the guy to peel the wet hair away from his face and look properly around.

“Did we just walk into a fucking sex shop?”

“You did, yeah.”

The two turn to the desk when Steve speaks up.

Next to him, Robin flinches, and he senses something weird from her, like a brain equivalent of an exclamation mark. But he doesn’t think much of it, assuming it might simply be a reaction to the pretty girl in front of them.

“We have a radiator in the back, I could take your clothes to dry,” he offers the newcomers.

“No, we—”

“Are you seriously going back out in this weather?” The girl looks at her friend with raised eyebrows. He scoffs.

“No,” he admits petulantly.

“I can make you guys some hot tea. It’s not like anything is happening here anyway,” Robin pipes up.

“That would be great, thanks.” The blonde lights up gratefully, and Robin squirms.

Stave takes it upon himself to gather their wet things, afraid his friend might combust if she comes any closer to the girl. When he’s hanging the clothes, she is uncharacteristically quiet, so he turns to her and cocks his head.

“What’s up?”

She frowns at the mugs she's pulling out.

“Her.”

"Huh? She’s cute, isn’t she?" He grins.

“I think I could hear her,” Robin clarifies.

Steve straightens up immediately and walks towards his friend. She’s looking back up, worrying her bottom lip under her teeth.

“Do you think they are dating?” He motions to the front of the shop where they can hear the other two talk. She looks at the clothes scattered around the backroom. A denim vest, two black jackets, and a hoodie. Judging by the size and style, they all seemed to belong to one person.

“They could be like us,” he points out, but she doesn’t seem convinced. He isn’t either.

“Or she could not know.”

That would complicate things, wouldn’t it?

After exchanging a few heated looks they trail back to the front and Steve hands the teas to their intruders.

"Thank you." The girl smiles sweetly, though her gaze slides towards Robin.

Steve gives his friend a pointed look but she's too dazed to even flip him off.

"Thanks." The guy blows on his tea, keeping his gaze mostly on the window and the storm outside. "We'll take a look around and won't bother you guys," he says, giving his companion a pointed look before disappearing into one of the sections.

Steve knows it’s bad to stereotype but the assortment of strap-ons is not what guys like this usually go for, and his brain gets whiplash with the sudden onslaught of images he's not proud of. The tall guy wearing black and chains getting pegged by his tiny blonde girlfriend? It kind of suits him. He tries not to think about it.

They give them space to roam around the shop and whisper to each other while they finish their duties for the day and start closing up.

"Guys? We need to close in fifteen minutes!" Steve would feel bad for kicking them out into the storm, but the rain clouds have moved, turning the onslaught into a light drizzle.

It's only after they leave that Steve looks at the tattoo on the palm of his hand. Surprised at what he sees, he shakes it experimentally. The d20 lands back on the same number.

“Hey, look.” He holds it up for Robin to see. “I’ve never rolled a twenty before.”

Three days pass and Steve can't stand it anymore.

He slaps his hand on the counter, making Robin yelp.

“You’re thinking about her again!"

“I’m sorry!”

Steve shakes his head.

“No. Don't care, no sorries," he says with finality. “We’re finding her.”

"We go to the same school!" she protests. "I think. I mean, I'll run into her eventually!"

But Steve won't take that chance, tired of all the sighing from her brain, and decides to find the girl they've met. He figures the easiest place to find high schoolers is at the mall so that's where he goes.

With all the groups of friends and couples passing by, he feels even more like a loser than usual, being there all alone. But he's on a mission, so he won't let that deter him.

That is, until one of the faces he sees in the crowd gives him a pause. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to realize what's familiar about one of the three girls coming at him, but when the memory hits, he panics. Letting his flight response take over, he ducks into the nearest open door to avoid his ex.

After making sure the group has passed him without notice, he lets himself breathe. He's taking in the shop he stepped into, a record store full of tapes, vinyls, and band merch, when a voice startles his adrenaline levels back up.

"Well, well, well. How the tables have turned. Running from a gaggle of women, are we?"

Steve turns to find the metalhead who ran into his shop a few days ago, smirking at him.

"Just one." He shakes his head, instinctively looking back behind the glass door. "Really don't feel like running into my ex right now."

"Must be happening a lot, huh?" The man leans on the counter that separates them. "My friend told me you're quite the casanova."

Steve spots his opportunity and grabs it.

"The girl from the other day?" he asks.

"Yes?" The guy's eyes narrow.

“So you guys are friends?” he adds to clarify before he uncrosses his figurative fingers.

“Yes? Why else would we hang out?”

Steve feels his cheeks heat up under the man's suspicious stare.

“Well, you could be dating.”

The guy snorts.

“Yeah, I don't see the local freak bagging the head cheerleader. The fact that she can even stand me is enough.” Then his eyes narrow again. “Why? You interested in Chris?”

Chris.

“No? Well, kinda, but not… exactly.”

Steve has never felt less smooth in his whole life. And judging by the guy's expression, it shows. Whatever he was trying to sell, he wasn’t buying. His brain scrambles to salvage the situation and comes up with a painfully honest solution.

"Look, I just graduated and my friend group has fallen apart." He yells at his brain-to-mouth wires but keeps going anyway. "And you guys seem chill, I thought the four of us could hang out, or something?"

If the 'you suck' board still existed, he'd fill it out with tallies himself.

The man doesn't seem convinced and he opens his mouth to tear him to shreds probably, but then somebody yells from the back of the store:

"Eddie! A little help, please!"

And the guy, Eddie, gets reminded he's at work.

"Coming!" he yells back, and on his way there, throws Steve a quick string of, "Great seeing you again, we'll think about it, we know where to find you, bye!" before disappearing behind the back door.

After such a disastrous interaction, the last thing Steve wants to do is go back out into the mall full of people. But staying here to risk Eddie looking at him like that again was the more humiliating option. He turns around, planning to lick his wounds at home before reporting his findings back to Robin. For the hundredth time since finding her, he wishes they couldn't read each other minds. Because all he can think of is making a complete loser idiot of himself in front of a cool metalhead dude, and he knows she won't let him live it down. Maybe the Scoops board will make a comeback after this.

“Chrissyyyyyy!”

“Eddieeeeee!”

The rest of the cheer squad does perfectly synchronized eye rolls when their captain jumps down the human pyramid to greet her friend.

“Hi!” She smiles brightly. “You’re early. We’re not done yet.”

“I got some news.” He taps his fingers on the small partition between them, ignoring the cheer practice in progress. “Bad ones and good ones.”

“Bad first,” she says with a decisive nod.

Eddie opens his mouth but then frowns and closes it.

“It won’t make sense if you don’t hear the good news first.”

“Oh my god! Just spill it!”

“So, they’re almost surely not dating.”

“The sex shop guys?”

He nods.

“Okay, and the bad one?”

“Steve seems to be into you.”

“No!” she gasps, scandalized. Eddie snickers.

“Yeah. Sorry sweetie." His smile turns more apologetic.

Chrissy makes a face. Then she keeps making faces until Eddie can’t help but snort and slap her playfully.

“Stop! What are you thinking about?”

“I mean he’s kinda cute, but gives me repressed gay vibes.”

Eddie chokes but she keeps going.

“And his friend? His friend is just hot.”

“Ehh, I guess.” Eddie shakes his palm, making his friend roll her eyes.

“You’ll never understand the beauty of a woman in suspenders.”

“More women in suspenders for you then.” He grins, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Chris! You going back or what?” one of the cheerleaders behind them yells out, barely containing her annoyance.

“I’m coming!” Chrissy yells back. She turns to her best friend, her soulmate, with a dazzling smile. “You joining in?”

“You know they hate it when I do,” he points out.

“And you love it that they hate it.” She smirks like the evil little gremlin she secretly is.

“Fuck yeah, I do.” Eddie grins, climbing over the partition to join the cheerleading squad. A couple of girls groan, knowing what’s coming next but none of them dare to protest. If their captain’s soulmate wants to perform a perfect cheer routine, putting their months of practice to shame, there’s nothing they can do except blame the fates.

Eddie drops his leather jacket on the bleachers and does a couple of stretches in perfect sync with his friend. They grin at each other while mirroring each other’s movements without a word.

“If only you could read my mind during math exams like that,” Chrissy teases.

“Okay, shut up.” He rolls his eyes with fake annoyance. Yeah, it would be convenient, but he got a cheerleading routine memorized in his muscles instead. He’d be complaining if Chrissy wasn’t so fun to be around.

Despite his involuntary knowledge of the routine, none of the other girls fully trust him, so he usually ends up working mostly with Chris, tossing her in the air and catching her when needed.

“You should join us for the game,” she asks as always, after jumping down from his arms.

“I’ll think about it,” he answers as always, patting her head. She huffs, swatting his hand away and fixing up her ponytail, now loose from practice.

“Wanna go grab pizza?” she asks casually and he immediately goes into suspish mode. Chrissy rarely proposes eating out together. Don’t get him wrong, it’s great that his girlie is starting to eat better again, but… He doesn’t let his suspicion show when he asks:

“Sure. Any place in mind?”

She hums, but it’s a short hum. Very 'i-already-had-a-place-in-mind' like.

“The one with the Ninja Turtles poster?”

“You mean the one across the adult toys store?” He raises his eyebrows.

She blushes a fierce red and he knows it’s not because of the sex shop thing. He grins, wide and teasing.

“You wanna see that girl again.”

“Maybe,” she huffs defensively. “Okay, yes, so what?”

“So nothing.” He shrugs innocently. “Grab your things and we’ll go.”

“Yes!” she pumps her hands in victory, a dorky move Eddie’s proud to have taught her, and runs off to grab her backpack. She snatches his jacket before he can, overly eager to get moving. “Let’s go!”

He can’t help but laugh while trotting after her towards his van.

The inside of the store is brighter than they remembered, what with the sky being clear this time. It looks surprisingly normal until you take a better look at the contents of the boxes on display. A sex shop during daylight just lacks a certain ambiance.

The preppy-looking guy behind the counter doesn't match the vibe either.

At the sound of customers, the guy looks up.

"Hello! Oh, it's you guys." He visibly relaxes, realizing it's not his usual run-of-the-mill customers.

"It's us indeed." Eddie smiles, confidently strutting up to the counter. "Has anyone ever told you you look out of place here?"

Steve raises an eyebrow.

"Has anyone ever told you not to judge someone's sex life by their looks?"

Eddie raises his hands placatingly.

"Fair enough, man. I'll back off." However, the comment made him insanely curious about what a guy like that would be into. Behind him, Chrissy gently kicks him in the ankle, prompting him to take a look around. "Alone today?" he asks with a curious tilt of his head.

"Yeah, Robin is tutoring after school today. Why?" His eyes narrow.

"No reason, no reason."

Chrissy kicks him harder and he smiles through the pain.

“What is she tutoring in? I’m having trouble passing the last grade.”

It takes Steve a moment to answer, like he's measuring how much information he can give away.

“Foreign languages.”

The words are barely out of his mouth when Eddie snaps his fingers.

“Perfect! Can I get her number or something?”

The kick is so hard this time it jostles him forward and he glares back at his friend. It also attracts Steve’s attention to Chrissy.

He smiles at her, a bit unsure and shy. It rubs Eddie the wrong way and he can feel his hackles rise.

“Chris, right?”

“Chrissy,” she corrects, slightly scrunching her nose.

“Oh, sorry. It’s nice to see you again, Chrissy.” He smiles, more genuine this time.

“Uh, you too. Steve.”

Eddie clears his throat, hoping to come off as rude as possible.

Steve looks back at him and his expression shifts immediately. It’s almost a scoff.

“Listen, I don’t just give off my best friend’s number to random guys. But if you give me yours, I’ll pass it on.”

“Works for me,” Eddie says with the tightest approximation of a smile he can manage. “Do you have something I can write on?”

Steve looks around for the pen and notepad that are never in their designated spots and never together. He finds them under the keyboard.

“Here.”

But Eddie isn’t taking the items from him. Steve wiggles them like he would attract a pet or a child, but it doesn’t work. He’s about to make a snarky remark when the guy speaks up first.

“You have a D20 tattoo.”

“Huh?”

Steve is losing his mind.

But then he remembers that he does indeed have one and it’s partially visible when he’s holding out a pen like that.

“Ah, right.” He opens up his fingers and shakes his palm, causing the dice to roll. “It’s my soulmate mark.”

“Dude, that’s so dope.” Eddie’s eyes sparkle with marvel and Steve’s throat tightens. “You rolled a twenty, does that mean anything?”

Steve shrugs.

“I don’t know. One of my friends is a Dungeons and Dragons nerd and he told me it’s a luck thing? He freaked out pretty badly when I kept rolling ones on vacation, but nothing happened.” He smiles, fondly remembering Dustin’s panic.

Eddie hums.

“Man, having a functional D20 tattoo would be so fucking cool. I’m kinda jealous here.”

Steve snorts.

“Yeah, Dustin told me that too.”

Eddie finally takes the writing utensils from him, eyeing him contemplatively.

“I’m guessing you’re not a DnD nerd yourself? Considering you get your info from a friend?”

Steve chuckles.

"Yeah, no. Though I do get a lot of brain chatter from my soulmate."

"Brain chatter?" Eddie picks on curiously.

"Uh, yeah. I dream up whole campaigns and know lore I've never really studied. The kids go bonkers over it."

"Kids?"

Eddie's feeling both stupid and entranced by the guy.

"The DnD nerd? Dustin?" Steve says with annoyance that poorly covers up his fondness. "He comes with a full set of other nerds. A party, if you will. They just started high school and no, it's not weird that I know them. I used to babysit them and they just kind of..." He waved his hand. "Stuck on. Like parasites.

Eddie barks out a laugh.

"They sound delightful."

"They have their moments," Steve admits. Then they both stare at the number Eddie has scribbled on the piece of paper handed to him.

"So uh, see you around?"

"Yeah." Steve smiles. It's genuine and pleasant this time. But then, to Eddie's chagrin, he looks to the side. "You too Chrissy. Come over anytime. Maybe you need some tutoring too?"

"Uh, thanks, I'm good. Good luck finding a DnD nerd soulmate," she says, her tone weird. Eddie can't blame her. He wouldn't like being so blatantly hit on either. He could already feel her tugging on his jacket.

"Thank you," Steve says, smile turning a bit wistful. His eyes turn back to Eddie, away from his poor, sapphic-leaning soulmate. Good. He waves the note with the numbers. "I'll let her know you're interested but no promises. And hey, if you're into DnD too maybe you'd be interested in DMing for a bunch of freshmen?"

"I'll think about it," Eddie manages, slowly backing away, the force behind Chrissy's pull increasing. "Thanks, man. And, uh, good luck with the soulmate thing too!"

"Thanks."

The doors close in front of him and it feels like a curtain has just separated him from a whimsical spectacle.

"What the fuck was that?" Chrissy and Eddie ask each other in unison, albeit in vastly different tones.

"Huh?" Eddie frowns at his friend. She had already turned around and was pulling him towards the pizzeria across the street.

"Don't huh me! You forgot I was there!"

"I didn't!" He kind of did. For a teeny tiny second.

"You were clearly flirting with him."

"What? No, I wasn't!" he bristles. He'd know if he was flirting with someone.

She looks back at him sternly when they reach a table of her choosing. She plops down heavier than a tiny cheerleader should be able to and takes on a mocking, high voice.

"Oh man, I'm so jealous of your soulmate. Yes, I will play with your kids. Here's my number."

"I said no such thing," he hisses, sitting down across from her.

"Might as well." She shrugs. "You were interested in him."

"Well, he's an interesting person!" Eddie defends.

"Yeah, the preppy, vanilla high school heartthrob that is clearly not into the same stuff as you, other than his connection to his soulmate," she deadpans back. "Wouldn't have guessed."

"Shut up," he huffs, crossing his arms.

"Eddie, he asked you to hang out with his kids, himself," she points out.

"These are not his kids."

"You're so focused on the wrong details here. Do I have to wingman for you as well? Because I will. Just say the word."

Eddie closes his eyes and sighs. He knows his friend means well but it's just too much.

"Chrissy, stop. I don't need someone who has a soulmate with a matching, kick-ass D20 tattoo waiting for him somewhere. Probably a busty, nerdy girl, too—"

"Ew."

"Yeah, I know. He just seems interesting, and honestly? Expanding the party would be cool. So I might take him on the DMing thing I guess. But please, for the love of gods." He makes fierce eye contact with his friend. "No matchmaking. No wingmaning. Or wingwomaning. No setting Eddie up with a probably-heterosexual dude, who is probably into you."

A shudder goes down Chrissy's lithe body.

"Please don't remind me."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know," she sighs. "I'm really hoping I'm right about his friend." She drums her fingers on the table, biting her lip. "Maybe it's stupid but I feel like it would magically solve everything. He'd get over me, I'd get to bone his friend, and you'd get a new friend with a kick-ass nerd tattoo." She beams at him and he just can't help but laugh at his little ray of sunshine.

"I hope you're right too."

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greenqueenhightower · 23 hours

Note

hi again! and i’m sorry if i sounded rude i didn’t mean to!

yes i was talking about ep 9!

but if you say that it isn’t manipulation why then rhaenyra and criston’s relationship is considered that? especially when they have sex? is a bit hypocritical no? because if it is then alicent has MUCH more power play in their situation:

1. he is her employee

2. she is THE QUEEN

so it still counts as manipulation simply because she knows what to do with her power in this scenario and she KNOWS he would do anything because he is dutiful but at the same time he will be the first to not listen to her as many times is shown (when he kills the guy in the council out of the blue or when she ASKS for him to take lucerys eye which she never asked for violence but when she does he doesn’t do it).

but is just my opinion saying this from a female standpoint and seeing alicent more of a player in this situation because you say he is her only ally, but is the ally she can play and say what he needs to do. In a way otto and larys are a mean to an end, because what they show is rooted in violence and greed and we can’t forget that still is a misogynist world (her father is still a high born and well her father, larys is a high born and a type of “gossip girl” (didn’t find a better word for this sorry English is not my first language)).

Criston is a low born and a guard: manipulation is still a thing that happened here.

Hey again anon 💚

Dw, I didn’t find it rude, I was just confused a bit. Thanks for elaborating.

I think that the difference between Alicent and Criston’s relationship and Rhaenyra and Criston’s relationship is that they are based on totally different values. Rhaenyra x Criston are bound together by desire and momentary passion but lack devotion, duty, and sacrifice. Alicent x Criston don’t exercise upon desire and passion but have honor, duty, loyalty, devotion, etc. This means that both parties (Alicent & Criston) feel more self-realized and valued within the auspices of their relationship because it gives them exactly what they ask for.

To Criston, it gives him a purpose, namely his role as a sworn protector. Remember what he said to Rhaenyra? His relationship with her deprived him of his own feelings of self-worth: “I took an oath”/“I stained my white cloak”/“It’s all I have to my name.” To Alicent, that relationship gives stability and security unlike any other relationship she has with a male in power. She knows that Criston will not ask anything of her beyond what they have agreed upon. He won't betray her, neither will he use or manipulate her. And Criston feels the exact same trust towards Alicent because he feels that he will not be used again as he has been used by Rhaenyra. Therefore, their relationship dignifies both of them.

Going back to your comment about manipulation, the fact that Criston is free to affirm or deny what Alicent commands once again shows that his role as her sworn protector dignifies rather than restrains him. He knows who he is and where his duties lie, and he knows that he can refuse Alicent’s command to take Luke’s eye, exactly because his worth is not measured by how much and how well his actions will please her, which would be the case if he was constantly manipulated into doing something either out of fear, either out of personal gain, either out of loss of self-respect. As you very well point out, Criston can refuse Alicent because he knows very well that he can. That his life doesn't depend on whether he complies to her wishes or not. Because he knows that if he doesn't want to do something, she will not enforce it nor will she degrade him because of his choice. That's why Criston can have that much self-confidence in his position as Alicent’s sworn protector and member of the King’s Guard. At the same time, he further displays how he can act of his own free will, no matter how horrible it is (and don't get me wrong-Lord Beesbury’s killing was horrible!). But in the context of whether he is being manipulated or not, it once again shows that nope, Criston “is a man in his own right” to use the words of Emma D’Arcy, and he can make his own decisions. (Further commentary on his unlawful killings fuelled by bloodlust that explain his character you can find here.)

In my opinion, Criston can be himself in his service to Alicent just as much as Alicent can be herself and can trust him with everything (one of many examples is when she talks to him about Viserys’ prejudice towards Rhaenyra’s sons even though it is forbidden to do so because she trusts that he will keep her confidence). In short, Alicent and Criston’s relationship is built upon mutual trust and respect, and it doesn't quiver when Criston fails to meet Alicent’s demands. If Alicent really did manipulate Criston and the incident at Driftmark was the only time he failed to comply, then wouldn't she have been extremely angry? Wouldn't she have felt betrayed? But she didn't feel that, because she too KNEW that what she had asked him was way out of line, way beyond his agreed-upon duties and therefore violated their agreement.

And you can compare their relationship with a very clear cut example of manipulation as we see it in the show: think about how Criston behaves with Alicent versus how Alicent behaves with Larys. Is Criston petrified of her? Does he feel that his life might depend upon keeping her happy and satisfied? Does he think that she might twist his words and actions to harm him if she doesn't get what she wants? No.

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s1m0nth3swaggy · 3 days

Text

chat i saw someone make incorrect qoutes of Dead Boy Detectives and I wanted to try as well. I saved the best ones, these are awesome

Slight shipping of Niko and Crystal/ Edwin and Charles because these bitches gay

Edwin: You spent all our money on THIS?? Charles, putting tiny raincoats on ducklings: They live outside. They need this.

Charles: Life could be worse, Edwin. Edwin: Life could be a lot better too!

Niko: According to the footage here, you shook the vending machine and when the shake alarm went off, you punched the glass and broke it. Crystal: …I was hungry.

Edwin: I'm not a morning person. I'm barely even a person.

Edwin: Start talking! Charles: Well, I- Edwin: Shut up!

Niko: Anything else? Edwin: Yeah. Stay away from me! Niko: Alright. See you in the room we share.

Edwin: Wakey Wakey Eggs and Bakey! Monty: But I'm a vegan. Edwin: Wakey Wakey Vegetables and Sadness.

Edwin, entering the room: Sees Thomas (Cat King) and leaves Thomas (Cat King), watching Edwin leave: There’s my monthly dose of Edwin…

Crystal: When I said you should try being friendlier this isn't what I meant. Edwin, stirring a cup of tea aggressively: Oh, so now I'm TOO friendly? There's no pleasing you. Charles, who broke into their house an hour ago: Two sugars please. Edwin: Coming right up.

Charles: What’s up? I’m back. Niko: I literally saw you die. You died. You were dead Charles: Death is a social construct.

(they are in love your honor)

Crystal: Niko, what does IDK, ILY, and TTYL mean? Niko: I don’t know, I love you, talk to you later. Crystal: Alright, I love you too, I'll ask Edwin. Niko: Wait- Crystal, no-

Jenny: Crystal has discovered "deez nuts" jokes and it's all they say now. Everything is deez nuts. They simply can't stop. Jenny: I asked Crystal where they learned that joke. They made me promise they wouldn't get in trouble if they told me. I agreed. Jenny: So they lean in and whisper, "deez nuts."

Charles: That’s the longest worm I’ve ever seen. Edwin: That’s a snake.

Edwin: Someone’s trying to break in. Call the cops! Charles: loads shotgun I got this. Edwin: Last week you fell up the stairs, what do you mean-

Charles: What are your adjectives? Edwin: …You mean my pronouns? Charles: No, I know what your pronouns are! What are your adjectives? Edwin: …I dunno. What are yours? Charles: Noisy and chaotic! Edwin: I’ve never had something go from making no sense to making complete sense so quickly.

Jenny: I love sarcasm! It’s like punching people in the face, but with words!

(Charles being a little bitch i love him)

Monty: What are you two arguing about this time? Crystal: They’re always using common phrases incorrectly! Charles: Cry me a table, Crystal.

(after the whole "I wasn't talking about you" scene and when Monty was trying to annoy/ make Edwin jealous or smth)

Monty: You are a solid 11/10. Edwin: Aw, thank- Monty: Which is 1.1 because you look like shit.

(i need more niko and monty moments because im convinced they'd be besties)

Monty: makes Niko a cup of tea but puts salt in it Niko: sips tea Monty: Niko: finishes tea Monty: Didn't it taste bad? Niko: Yeah, but I didn't want to hurt your feelings so I drank it all. Monty, tearing up: Oh, okay.

Thomas (Cat King): I would say I outdid myself, but I’m always this good, so I simply did myself.

#dbda #dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #incorrect quotes #edwin x charles #niko x crystal

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unicornpopcorn14 · 16 hours

Note

13 for the ship prompt! :D

Ship Prompts 13- Write about your ship celebrating one of the members birthdays. Ship chosen: Queerplatonic Skk I got carried away with this (3.5k words aaaaa) 😭😭 Hope you enjoy it, Darcy!! :D

Saccharine

“You’re aware what day of the year it is, right?”

Dazai’s eyes widen, fork still in his mouth as the chatter of the restaurant fades in his ears. It’s been four– almost five years, surely Chuuya isn’t alluding to that. The moment he meets the other’s peeved face, however, his mouth gapes, with the fork still inside it, and whispers in horror,

“Don’t-”

Chuuya cuts him off with an exasperated sigh, “I enjoyed those 51 days of me being a year older, but alas. The time has come for me-”

“Don’t-”

“-to be nice to you for the whole day…”

“NOOOOO!!!” He grabs his hair as he lurches back, other customers turning to their table, “Chuuya, if you’re a sadist, I’d much rather find out in better ways!” He bangs on the table with flat hands, to which Chuuya’s veins bulge at, “Would you quit with that awful annual torture-?!”

“Come on, you do this every goddamn year!” Chuuya bickers back, “Indulge a little in what I put myself through for your ungrateful ass.”

“You do it because I don’t like it!”

“Well, true.” Chuuya shrugs, leaning back with folded arms, “But don’t you get at least a little tired from doing this shit constantly? I’d say this is a much needed change of pace-”

“First of all, how dare you suggest that this ‘shit’ is but a front. Maybe you can’t help but pretend to hate me– and I get it, after all, who could resist my charm? But I truly hate you-!”

“Uh huh.”

“-Second of all, I’d rather stay alive than ever go through that quote-un-quote: ‘needed change of pace’ for the third time in my miserable life!”

“That so?” The smirk that Chuuya wears sends Dazai’s long-have-been-numb nerves prickling in foreign agitation that he hasn’t felt in a long time-

“Oh my.” Chuuya’s tone and eyes instantly soften, and Dazai recoils back before he can help it, “Miserable life, Osamu? I’m so sorry to hear that. We can talk about it, you know-”

Dazai clasps his ears shut, “Shut uuuup!!!”

“As you wish,” Dazai grimaces even further because Chuuya just listened to him, “but do know I am always here to talk, yeah?” Chuuya unsheathes one of his gloves to take Dazai’s hand into his own, expression so uncanny as he genuinely smiles at Dazai. The brunette feels sick-

“I’ll avoid you for the whole day if you keep this up!” He threatens crackly, can’t bring himself to take his hand away, “The Agency is definitely pummeling without me helping with the paperwork.”

Chuuya normally would tell him that he slacks on the job anyway, but now he just simply closes his eyes, that same damn smile on his face, “Just say the word, and I’ll give you all the space you need. Never doubt that, mackerel.”

The pet name doesn’t grant him the normalcy he’s desperate for when Chuuya says it in that tone of voice, “No- You’re not supposed to-!” Dazai can sense that his lack of acutely predicting Chuuya’s responses might drive him crazy very soon, so he attempts to try to calm himself, “Aren’t there mafia business for you to attend, Mr. Executive? Does Mori even know you’re here?”

“Don’t worry, Osamu, I freed the whole day just for you.”

“Stop calling me that-”

“Anything you want-”

“Raaaaaghhh!!!” Now he takes his hand back, clutching it on his chest as if he’s been burned, “You’ll crack. You’ll definitely crack. There is no chance you’re keeping this up forever. Your tiny brain won’t handle it!”

But he knows that isn’t the case, because Chuuya’s tiny brain had handled it for the whole day during his seventeenth and eighteenth birthday, and now at 23, his tolerance to Dazai’s insults have significantly heightened, to the brunette’s sheer disdain.

Chuuya tilts his head a little, hair swaying, completing his sickeningly sweet demeanor, “I’d do anything for the most precious person in the world.”

“Eugh- I think I threw up in my mouth a little.” He gags with a fist on his mouth, voice groggy-

The waiter comes up to them, telling them that the other customers have complained about Dazai’s occasional shrieks. Chuuya, still so freaking sweetly, informs her that they were leaving already, pays the restaurant without complaining once about Dazai never pulling his own weight, and they take off.

“This is a nightmare.” Dazai says after a long moment of silence between them, something that never happens, “My feisty dog is suddenly nice, he’s definitely transpiring something wicked against me!”

Chuuya- Chuuya laughs, “You know you’re ridiculous with that…” He doesn’t say it meanly, wiping a tear, which Dazai’s brain haywires at-

“Really, now? Laughing at calling you my dog?” The smallest of frowns dares crease his forehead, “This is too much, even for you.”

“What? You’re funny.” Dazai’s face pales- greens even, “So, where do you want to go, birthday boy?”

Dazai bristles at the nickname, then inhales to calm himself, an idea springing up, “Fine. You asked for it, Slug!” He knows just the perfect way to break him, “We’re going to the arcade.”

He sees the flash in Chuuya’s eyes, and deems himself victorious. Chuuya would never maintain this bullshit at the arcade given his ridiculously competitive nature. He’ll definitely scream at Dazai once or twice out of habit more than anything-

Nothing.

Clearly Chuuya’s willpower has also improved through the years, because there isn’t a single aggressive shout, there isn’t any accusations of Dazai tampering with the machines (he had), and though Chuuya laughs and enjoys the rounds, what he utters after his loss is the straw that breaks the camel’s back,

“Aw shucks. Good match, that was fun.”

Dazai leaps from his seat and turns around the machines to reach the redhead, grabbing his cheeks with panicked eyes, “Chuuya, Chuuya are you in there?! I think you’ve been possessed!” He speaks to the eyes, sensing their amused confusion, “Do something to tell me you’re in there! Any sign!”

Chuuya smiles.

“Ahh!” Dazai lets him go instantly, “Begone, demon!!”

“Come on, now.” The not-Chuuya says fondly- eughhh, “Up for another round?”

“No!” This didn’t work. Dazai needs to think of other ways, make up a plan. Operation: exorcising this cloying demon out of his partner begins in-

“How about we go to my apartment? I have a surprise for you.”

Dazai’s eyes dart as his mind runs in terrifying speeds, addressing the other without looking, “I don’t trust you with surprises right now. You may be small, but you’re no less terrifying.”

Chuuya chuckles, “You’ll love it, trust me-”

Dazai gets into a fighting stance, gasping, “Do not speak of trust with that tone of voice, not-Chuuya!”

Chuuya chuckles again, and his silky tone coaxes him to follow him to his apartment, nevertheless. Dazai can’t believe he’ll have to endure seven more hours of this, planning to break a thing or two of Chuuya’s belongings out of spite if nothing else.

“Don’t think your façade is fooling me, I can see right through you!” He announces impatiently from the couch, leg bouncing up and down as Chuuya pours drinks from the kitchen, “You gagged at least twice through this, didn’t you? Admit it.”

Chuuya laughs again, a record in Dazai’s book. This is so ridiculous. “Stop cracking me up, I can’t pour the drinks.”

Dazai sulks, sinking into the couch, “Shut up…” But it’s weak, replaced by flusterment he can’t ebb down. He feels suddenly helpless with the lack of the reactions, and wonders if he’s losing his touch. The antique vase looks like it wants to crash into the floor in full speed so much right now.

“You’re a little red.” Not-Chuuya is suddenly in front of him, sitting down as he gapes up at him in amusement, “Cute.” He attempts to give Daza his drink.

Dazai, with crossed arms, huffs and turns away, “I’m not talking to you.”

“Why? Did I do anything wrong?” Chuuya asks gently with a smile, placing the glass on the table. Dazai turns even further in order to hide the other from his peripheral.

No, you didn’t. And that’s the problem.

“Your hair looks soft. Fluffy.” Dazai suddenly feels fingers running through the back of his head. His noddle whips so fast his neck feels like it cracked,

“Ew, ew! Don’t touch me, cheap-Chibi-replica!!” He doesn’t exactly flinch away, fuming, “The real Chuuya calls my hair a dirty mop all the time! Do better!”

Not-Chuuya brushes his bangs this time, fixated on them as he speaks, “Maybe he never told you those things because…” He pauses, eyes down-casting a little. Dazai begged him to say ‘you’re a pain in the ass’. It’s what he expects, it’s what makes perfect sense, it’s what aligns with the Chuuya he knows like the back of his hand, pleasepleaseplease-

“…he never really thought he deserved you enough to do so.”

Dazai rigids, “WHAT?!”

“He’s afraid of things he’ll lose.” Chuuya, to Dazai’s absolute disdain, explains, “So he tries his best to push everyone away. Everyone he’s sure will be too precious to him, everyone he’ll latch onto just a little too much, he tries his best to maintain his distance from th-”

“Chuuya, I have never been more serious with you in my life: Please stop.” Dazai numbly says, suddenly so, so exhausted.

The redhead’s mouth clasps, as per request, but he clarifies that it still isn’t over, “Only six more hours and I will.”

“Why?” Dazai stresses, uncomfortable, “You can end it here. Nothing obligates you to-”

“You never asked for your surprise.” Chuuya cuts him off.

Dazai blinks, turning to him, “If I see it, will you stop?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Of course I will.” Dazai rolls his eyes, “Now, on with it. If it gets the real Chuuya out, then the sooner the better.”

Chuuya smiles, but there is something solemn regarding it. He gets up, with Dazai observing his every move, and scurries through a drawer big and wide enough to accommodate stacks of files and documents. Dazai’s eyes narrow, never taking interest to rummage through this particular drawer for how boring its contents appear to be, but now his interest in piqued, as Chuuya finds what he’s looking for with a small: “Aha.”

Dazai thinks he sees an envelope in Chuuya’s hand as he ambles closer, but that can’t be right-

“Here.”

“Your surprise is a letter?” Dazai truly hasn’t been more confused in his life. He hates that he can’t see where this is going, inspecting the brown envelope as he speaks, “Chuuya, I don’t think there is anything you can’t verbally say to me now, do you? This is usele-”

His eyes widen, breath catching in his throat as he reads the name embedded on the paper.

From: Odasaku

Time seems to stop while Dazai reads the nickname once, twice. It’s in English cursive that can never be Chuuya’s handwriting, and his hands tremble ever so slightly the moment he registers the credibility of what he’s holding. This is real.

“You- wh-” He looks back and forth between the envelope and Chuuya’s gentle eyes, gaze never seeming to want to leave either.

Chuuya sits on the couch, voice subdued, “Your Executive desk was cleared by me after your defection, as per my own request. I was admittedly selfish– looking for anything you might have left for me before you left. Something to explain, anything-”

“Chuuya-”

“Hey, let me finish, will you?” Chuuya sends him a soft smile in reassurance, “I found this instead, read the first two paragraphs before I closed it again. It explained everything I needed to know, Dazai.” He leans back, drinking out of the wine glass, “You can read it privately if you want.”

But Dazai doesn’t get up, scrambling to take the paper out with shaky fingers. His heart wildly throbs once a long wall of text meets his widened eyes,

This is but my latest prose as a person worthy of being a writer, a person who is not tainted with blood. Dazai, if I die before seeing you one last time, I do not wish to end things between us on such terms. There is a lot I wish to tell you before I leave…

Dazai reads every word, eyes welling against his will, making the letters blur and scramble as one. Oda speaks of their time together, his fondest memories, his ideals- tells him he would’ve left a letter for Ango hadn’t it been for the circumstances. Tells him the name of his adopted children, the characteristics each of them had.

I, truly, have considered you one of them.

Oda informs him of how much he resembled a burnt black cat the first time they met, how he doesn’t seem as burnt now. Dazai chuckles wetly as Odasaku says that he’s happy he’d known him, even for a short while, even in their circumstances.

Whatever path you’ll choose after what occurs, please remember this:

The brunette suddenly hiccups, an ugly sound seldom forced out of him. He covers his mouth, finds his lips too shaky to form words, heart feeling more than all it had felt in almost half a decade-

“He said he’s proud of me, even before knowing I’d defect.” He isn’t sure why he’s whispering this to his partner, “He-” His cheeks feel wetter than before, to which he looks at his hand. Droplets of salt continue to fall on them so assertively, he thinks they might cause them to bleed,

“What is this- what have you done to me…?” Dazai knows he’s crying, he just doesn’t know why he can’t will himself to feel numb again. Everything is hazy and sloppy and wet, and he keeps the precious paper away, afraid it will get caught up in that uncontrollable mess…

“Do you hate it?” Chuuya asks faintly, with some regret in it. Dazai shakes his head, leaving the letter on the table-

“No, I don’t but- these monstrous things won’t stop.” He croaks as he wipes with both hands on his face, and to his horror the tears double, the sobs get even more violent, “I think I’ve been possessed, too…”

“He said he’s proud…” Dazai repeats, squeaks, burying his nose into the warmth of his partner.

“Hey, come here…” Chuuya guides him through his fit, which Dazai blindly follows, till he finds himself with a weight on his laps and both arms and legs embracing him. Dazai latches back so tightly, trembling as he puts all of his force into the fists that both hit Chuuya lightly and grab the back of his shirt with. He doesn’t have to wipe the tears when Chuuya’s garment acts as a napkin, soaking every single thing he wishes to hide.

“That he did.” Chuuya’s ungloved fingers caress his hair, and don’t stop until the persistent tears finally stop flowing. Dazai stays huddled in the warmth for more seconds despite himself, selfishly wishing to steal it all, before shifting to indicate his desire to draw away, and Chuuya instantly gets off of him.

He can’t bring himself to look at the azure pupils no matter how hard he tries, eyes shifting away to the table and the carpet and the hands on his lap.

It has been long since he’s felt this bare, much less over a gift. He had received many birthday presents in the last two years especially: Ranpo would give him all the sweets he could offer, Kenji crops from his field, Kyouka pretty daggers, Atsushi hugs and flowers, the Tanizaki siblings a cake of their making, Yosano fancy wine bottles, Kunikida would treat him to a meal, and Fukuzawa would orchestrate the whole party…

While it would all be appreciated, he never really felt any joy over being one year older. Most times he regrets ever living this long, so he doesn’t regard the gifts or parties done in his honor with as much gratefulness as he feels he’s supposed to.

But this? This one letter lying opened on the table?

It might be the best birthday gift he’d… ever received.

And he wants to let Chuuya know that.

“Uh.” What was he supposed to say again? What did normal people say in situations like this? Thank you? Sorry? “You’re… appreciable, slug.”

That was neither- what the fuck, brain??

Chuuya would have pointed his terrible attempt at being grateful out at any other day, but now he simply smiles relievedly,

“I’m glad you like it.”

This version of his partner is starting to prove that he isn’t so bad, after all.

Dazai frowns, still avoiding eye-contact, “No, um, what I mean is… mmmm….” He sinks so far in the couch, till only his head is reclining by the back of the seat. He crosses his arms and averts his face, physically forcing himself to say it, “tnks…” he whispers.

“Hm?”

It’s a beat, then Dazai roughly flops his head on Chuuya’s lap, because he can’t articulate his appreciation with words, and thus wants to show it by doing something Chuuya likes, which is having to look down to see Dazai instead of the other way around. He feels the other tense for a second before his hand reluctantly cups his brown hair in question.

“Thanks.” Dazai grits into Chuuya’s pants, then rolls on his back, finally meeting the amused blues, “Don’t get the wrong idea, demon, you won’t catch me saying this to the real Chuuya at all. But you get a pass. Only this once.”

“Might as well feel honored, huh?” Chuuya chuckles, and it’s truly genuine.

A small smile cracks Dazai’s face for a mere second. Wannabe-Chuuya is really more acquainted to handle these moments than regular Chuuya. It’s definitely why he waited for Dazai’s birthday to hand the letter to him– an excuse to show his raw and real care that Dazai undeservedly bathes himself in.

“So, do you want him back, now?”

Dazai doesn’t, but can't ever shed light on contradicting himself, so he dramatically says instead, “I’ll think about it.”

The redhead’s brow ridges, though not with his typical ‘I’m done with your bullshit’ frown. It’s with a smile.

He wonders when Chuuya ever learned to be this good of an actor.

Dazai feigns a long sigh, “Fine, you can stay a little longer…” then pauses, blinking upwards, “Wait- am I betraying real-Chuuya that way?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mind.” Chuuya says as he strokes Dazai’s unkempt bangs away from his face.

Dazai’s mouth curls in displeasure because he likes it, “I hate you.”

“He hates you too, buddy.” It’s better to hear it in third person, like this part of Chuuya forever believes he is worth not being hated, “Wanna spend the rest of the day here or go somewhere else?”

“Energy’s gone, not-my-Chibi.” He twirls the long end of the fiery hair in a finger, “Outdoor activities will be a chore…”

Chuuya shakes his head and rolls his eyes in fondness, “This might be the lamest birthday setting ever.”

“That’s exactly right.” Dazai sneers, “But when were we ever conventional with the way we do things?”

“Touche. At least I got a cake and a candle.”

“Ugh, no. You know I hate formalities.”

They carry it out anyway, with Dazai ruining Chuuya’s attempts to sing properly, and Chuuya being patient through and through.

His partner must have expected Dazai to want to stay home after receiving his gift, because they spend the next six hours doing everything Dazai likes– They play videogames, they cook and Dazai makes the kitchen an unsalvageable mess, they wildly dance together and stumble on their feet, they watch murder mysteries and brain rotting soap operas in a pillow fort, they play with cards and Chuuya loses every single time.

It's until there is fifteen minutes left till midnight, with Dazai getting his hair braided, that he finds himself glancing back with a devious idea in mind. Testing Chuuya’s willpower one last time wouldn’t hurt, would it…?

“Ah, so. I hate to admit it– who am I kidding, no I don't,” He gives an exaggerated winces as he glances back, “but I maybe, sorta bleached all your coats while you were in the restroom when I was mad at you.”

Chuuya pauses his braiding, staring at Dazai for a long while… then all of the veins on his body pop-

He gets yanked backwards by the hair, “Ow, OW!” Dazai laughs because finally, “My, Chuuya, you’re back sooner than expected!”

Chuuya grabs him in a chokehold, which Dazai tries to escape from, “I can’t fucking take it anymore,” He growls, and Dazai laughs even harder, “My coats? MY COATS, DAZAI?!”

“It’s tie-dye season! Never heard of tie-dye season?!” Dazai slips downwards, successfully scrambling away as Chuuya attempts to grab him but he isn’t fast enough-

“GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!!”

Dazai's half-done braids bounce as he sprints, “Bring nice-Chuuya back first!!”

“SAY GOODBYE TO HIM FOREVER, BASTARD!”

“What?! Noooo, call me Osamu one last time!”

“IN YOUR WILDEST FUCKING DREAMS!!”

They pause the chase when Dazai’s behind the kitchen counter and Chuuya’s outside, if only to catch their breaths, “You know, if it weren’t for the fact that me being nice isn’t as effective on you, I’d have made it a staple on your birthday as well!”

Dazai grins evilly, as Chuuya pales.

“How would that go, again?” Dazai taps his chin, “Oh, Nakahara-Sama, You’re so smart and cool.” Chuuya’s face turns green, the piled urge to vomit since he’d started his act finally getting to him, “You are definitely not a dog and you’re actually the perfect height, goes nicely with your figure and strong build-“

“No, fuck! Euuugh!!!” Chuuya actively empties his stomach in a conveniently placed bucket, Dazai claps in victory,

“Aha! Maximum damage!!!” He points at him, “What comes around goes around, Slug!!”

“You’ll fucking pay for that!”

Chuuya breaks the door of the kitchen down, adding to the unhopeful mess Dazai’d made. Their wild goose chase keeps going till three in the morning.

And Dazai? Keeps laughing till all his heart’s content…

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darklinaforever · 14 hours

Note

I don’t know what this person sending you their rants is on but - “there are no prominent debates about the validity of Rhaenyra's love for Harwin. There's no one jumping on posts about the Velaryon boys to say that Rhaenyra only had them because she couldn't have Daemon. “ And Rhae loving one ‘set’ of boys more over the other …

Saying this is never debated and it’s always JUST Laena stuff is so fake. I’ve seen many many debates over all of these, and more.

Did Daemon care about Laena, yes. Did he love her? Maybe. Would he have ever married her if he had been allowed to marry Rhaenyra? No.

All of that being true and stating it doesn’t make us racist. It would have been the same if Laena had been like the book. I’m sorry the show writers suck, and did her dirty but.. It is what it is.

This is from this reblog :

I simply wanted to say that yes, Laena is the victim of misogynistic writing (like all the women in the series) and of racism in addition, but that the fact that Daemon is not in love with her has nothing to do with that, because that most likely wasn't the case in Fire and Blood either. I expressed myself clumsily and too quickly, sure, but to assume that I'm saying that Daemon hated Laena when I never implied such a thing ? Like, just because I say Daemon wasn't in love with Laena, does that necessarily mean I'm saying he hates her ? WTF ? That does not make any sense.

Then, yes, I've already seen tons of posts exposing (with good reason) the fact that Rhaenyra probably wasn't in love with Harwin. It seems pretty obvious that if she could have had Daemon, she would never have been with Harwin. For what ? Because Harwin is an anedoc in the text for Rhaenyra apart from her boys. And also the fact that she suddenly stopped having children with him when Daemon was finally allowed to return from his exile to the court.

Just like I've already seen tons of Laena fans insult Rhaenyra's character as a whore. Literally, I've had some come to my inbox. Just like there are fans of Laena who write her in fanfiction as Daemon's true love and Rhaenyra the jealous whore who can't live up to him. But for all that, I'm not going to say that all Laena fans think that Rhaenyra is a whore (plus misogynistic and grossophobic comments).

There's even debate that the Velaryon boys should be disliked by Rhaenyra because they put her reputation and legitimacy at risk (even though in reality, no one cares except the asshole greens) !

Basically... well yes, as you say, everything this person cited has been debated about Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra is also a character who has always been in trouble, even before the release of HOTD.

Not to say that Laena's case in HOTD is not serious, on the contrary, it is. But she's not the only victim of the fandom's mistreatment. I even think she's not the worst in the female character category from the entire GRRM universe by the fandom.

Either way, HOTD's general treatment of female characters is truly horrible and I fear that even if Baela and Rhaena finally get real scenes and dialogue in the future, they won't be treated any better than everyone else. Which particularly annoys me.

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painsandconfusion · 2 days

Text

Yours to Lose

Whumping the Whumpers - Part Forty

(tw: death mention, attempted murder, plotting murder, manhandling, victim blaming) [Previous | Masterpost | Next]

Ethan stumbled backward slightly at the force of Nate’s shove. The lingering bruise ached against his ribs, but did nothing in comparison to the ringing in his head.

He immediately batted Nate’s hands away. “Get off of me!”

“What the FUCK were you thinking!?” Nate’s teeth were clenched as he stepped forward to push Ethan again - forcing him back into the wall this time. “Going down there alone in the middle of the fucking night- You could be dead if I weren’t awake! If I hadn’t happened to be there! If I wasn’t paying attention!”

Ethan’s chest clenched up, burning and twisting.

Stuck.

He felt stuck.

The pain that wrapped around him was colder than most cuffs he’d been in, and the little man in front of him seemed so much larger when his back was bruising against the drywall.

Ethan scoffed, shoving forward and knocking Nate out of the way. “I’d have figured it out. I always do.”

“No, you don’t- You get caught and fucked up again and again and again. He would have killed you - what part of that isn’t sticking?? Or is it just the concussion making you stupid?”

Ethan’s jaw set, eyes dead ahead as he strode toward the kitchen to wash the blood off of his neck. “Why do you even care?”

He hoped Nate wouldn’t follow him. Of course, he did anyway.

“Why do I care!? Because you’re mine, that’s why!”

Ethan rounded on him, glaring enough it flared the throbbing in his skull. “You do not own me.” Each word precise. Spat over Nate in the dark kitchen.

Nate’s mouth immediately snapped open to retort, but he must have thought better of it. It closed again. He simply glared back for a long moment before trying again. “I don’t want you dead. I definitely don’t want him to kill you.”

Ethan raised a brow. “You want to be the one to do it, huh?”

Nate’s mouth pressed into a line. “..yes. I do.”

Ethan stepped closer, index finger pressed against Nate’s sternum. “And what if you’re not alive long enough to pull that off?”

Nate snorted - almost in amusement, but still too irritated to harbor his trademark smile. He batted Ethan’s hand away. “I know your angle. You know mine. If you had a problem with how I’m doing this, you’d have left.”

“No, I wouldn’t. I do have a problem with it, and I still won’t.”

Nate’s glare lasted almost long enough for the familiar fear to twist back through him. Luckily, anger kept it at bay long enough. “How many are left.”

“Some.”

Nate reached forward, shoving at Ethan’s chest again. “How many??” A harsh, whisper-shout that died on the wallpaper.

Ethan didn’t budge. Not that time. Nate could fall backwards if he wanted to push Ethan so damn bad. “I’m not telling you.”

“You don’t get to kill me the fucking second that I deliver the last person to you on a silver platter, you bastard-”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do, actually. Because you’re not gonna stop. You want them dead as much as I do.” Ethan found his hand drifting out, flicking a fallen lock of bang away from Nate’s brow.

Nate flinched.

He actually flinched.

A hand snapped Ethan’s away again.

“You don’t know what I want.”

“You want them to suffer.”

“Of course I w-” Nate’s teeth ground, eyes clicking to the side to think. “..do you like this?”

Ethan’s head turned slightly, eyeing Nate. “Like what?”

“Do you like getting fucked up?”

Now it was Ethan’s turn to shove Nate - hard enough the man stumbled backwards into the foyer again. “The fuck is wrong with you-??”

Nate sputtered a scoff, straightening his shirt again. “What the hell am I supposed to think, E?? You find who knows how many fuckers out there to mess you up, and even when you’re safe from two goddamn seconds, you go running off to the basement alone in the middle of the night and almost die.”

“I’m fine-!”

“YOU’RE NOT FINE.”

Air warbled and shifted, holding the words between them in silence for several echoing clicks of the farmhouse clock on the wall.

“I just..” Nate rubbed at his eye, anger melting into frustration. “I didn’t know you were-... I thought you were dead. When I came in the workshop, you were bleeding and still and-...and I thought you ..I thought you were dead, E. I thought I’d lost you.”

Ethan’s ears were ringing, a hissing, electronic sting filling the muffled silence that settled in the wake of the words.

Ethan stepped to the side, moving around Nate and toward the stairs. “I’m not yours to lose,” he muttered, founding the banister. He needed a shower anyway.

He thought Nate might respond. Fight back or pull him down again.

Nothing happened. No words returned or refuted. Ethan just heard the front door open and close behind him as he moved up into the darkness with burning eyes and a throbbing skull.

[Previous | Masterpost | Next]

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @wormwriting @distinctlywhumpthing @whump-cafe @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @azayta @batfacedliar-yetagain @there-will-always-be-blood @siren-of-agony @whumpworld @deltaxxk @whumpasaurus101 @pickywhumpreader @whumpberry-cookie @morning-star-whump @nailevislev @throwawaywhumper @the-mourning-star @d-cs @pigeonwhumps @suspicious-whumping-egg @snakebites-and-ink @whumpedydump @orphans-parent @whumplr-reader @rainbowsandwhumperflies @starfields08000 @sunnyesunny @crystallizedme @lumpofsand @taterswhump)

As always, lmk if you want to be added to the tag list!

#have a little ~angst~#death mention #death threat #murder mention #plotting murder #whumping the whumpers #nate and ethan #angst

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jack-kellys · 12 hours

Note

hiya fizz!! can I request davey + forgetting to eat for the bad things happen bingo? idk it just feels so Him yk

bonus points if there's javey involved asw (maybe with the anger born of worry trope idk)

tyy :))

hey theeere kit of course! one box per fic, though, making it harder for myself >:)

ao3 series here, and request a trope from these here!

The chillier breezes and shifting leaves of autumn came quicker than David could have planned. Not like he can plan seasons, of course, but he hadn’t had time to factor in what autumn meant to his, shall he say.. outside responsibilities.

School, for one, had picked up once September finished- assignments were piling enough and David left home that morning with Les with arithmetic still to complete. It occupied his lunch period, pencil messily scratching across the page to finish it before his next class.

And after school he’s at the circulation gate, waiting for the evening edition with a couple of the boys. Sometimes Sarah accompanies him when she can get out of the house, and especially since their folks don’t permit Les to sell anymore (much to the now ten-year-old’s chagrin), but today isn’t one of those days. It’s solely David, tapping his foot.

“He’s late,” he mutters out, not to anyone in particular.

“Who, Jack?” Racer asks, perking up. That’s true, but not what David meant.

“Wiesel,” David sighs. “Folks are expecting us on the streets in only a few minutes, right?”

“Cool it,” Racer chuckles. “Ain’t a thing. We got better things to be pissed at him about.”

“I’m not- pissed,” David frowns, shoulders bunching a little. He stops tapping his foot. Race gives him an exaggerated nod, eyes widened, and David rolls his own. Finally the gate opens and when David turns away from the window with his fifty papers in hand, Jack appears in front of him with some kind of smile on his face.

“You’re also late,” David says, and Jack only smiles wider. “You selling?”

“Ain’t I always,” Jack smirks, patting his bag- less than his usual, David thinks. “I got a request.”

David’s lips quirk, following Jack when he begins to walk them away from the circulation center. “What kind, exactly?”

“A good one, promise,” Jack replies, setting his hand on Davey’s shoulder, likely to steer him toward whatever odd adventure Jack’s planned. “It’s startin’ to get colder, you know, and Klopp can only buy so much for us. It’s up to us older fellas to pick up the slack. New socks, new gloves, extra fabric to stuff clothes with.”

That’s reasonable in terms of necessity, but not in the way that matters most. David turns his head toward Jack. “How did you get the money for that?”

Jack smiles again, wide, eyes narrowed in amusement or pride.

“Easy,” he states. “I didn’t. Now c’mon.”

For all of the legends and stories David has heard, he’s never seen Jack’s thieving skills in action. There are lots of things he’s swiped over the years, apparently, that simply hadn’t made it to his rap sheet- and most were far more impressive than food and clothing. So while David doesn’t exactly like it, he makes conversation with a shop clerk while Jack slithers into the store behind him. The bottom line is that they can’t afford it, and the kids at the lodge need it, and that has to outweigh the moral consequences of it all.

David’s normally a talkative person. Not a good talker, maybe–definitely a better one now–but he can keep going, and going. He’s leaning on the counter, having linked his english class to the price of wool going up somehow, and he feels his brain start to…slide, almost. It feels distracted, but not by anything he can tell, and his gaze falls to the counter as it does. Maybe he’s just tired, but he has to keep talking so Jack can get–

“Hey. Hey. Kid, you alright?”

David’s head snaps up with a quick inhale at the clerk’s voice, blinking a few times to sort out his vision. He’d been really intent on that counter.

“Uh, yes, yeah,” he nods quickly. “Just fine, ah- sorry, what was I talking about..?”

“You ain’t been talking for nearly a minute,” the clerk replies, “what- HEY!”

That can only mean one thing. David can hear the door open, and before it can close, he’s running outside.

“Thought you said you were good at this!” David yells, catching up to Jack. His paper bag is filled, and his shirt must be stuffed- he’s gripping his sleeves like random objects might start pooling out from them.

“I am when my partner ain’t suddenly go dead silent!” Jack retorts, glancing behind them. He picks up his pace, and painstakingly, David does the same, a pit forming in his stomach.

His expression slackens. More than a pit- something like a hurricane, swirling his insides in circles, over and over.

“Jack,” he tries, but his voice doesn’t carry this time. He’s way more out of breath than he should be. “Jack. We need to- I need to stop.”

His partner’s head swivels at that, expression incredulous. “Dave, we-”

Jack blinks, eyes widening suddenly, and he nods vigorously. Ask and David shall receive, apparently…

In a moment, Jack’s hands are on him, as if he knew David was inches from stumbling. He practically shoves David into an alley, the change in direction jostling his brain. His legs are keeping up, but his brain can’t seem to, and every time he blinks they’re an extra five feet ahead of where they only just were.

Finally, Jack stops, and so does David, breathing hard. Spots are entering his vision, and he tries to blink them away, grabbing onto a railing at the bottom of a fire escape to steady himself.

“Shit, Dee,” he hears Jack hiss, and his fingers fall away from the railing as he’s guided and then sat against the wall. In front of him are Jack’s big, blurred, midnight-dark eyes, his eyebrows creased with concern. Light dapples parts of his face from above, landing on his pink-brown cheeks. He must’ve set David under the stairs. “Davey- Davey, hey, what’s goin’ on? What happened?”

Jack pats his cheek suddenly as he speaks, jerking David back to an attention he hadn’t realized he’d left.

“I just… can’t. Run. Ri’now,” David supplies, blinking at the other.

“Yeah I got that,” Jack almost chuckles, gaze still filled with worry His hand finds David’s forehead. “Are you sick?”

David shakes his head slowly, leaning into Jack’s palm. “Had to do math, during lunch.”

This somehow confounds Jack more, eyebrows scrunching, before he nods.

“Davey,” Jack sighs. “You gotta eat during lunch, okay? Gotta do that, or you’re gonna black out mid-sprint.”

“I blacked out after,” David corrects. The corrects again- “I didn’t black out.”

Jack nods in what David assumes is mock-understanding, before the boy shifts closer, pressing a quick kiss to David’s temple. Then he leans back, sitting on his knees and watching David for a moment. He can feel himself smile slightly, and Jack mirrors it meltily, before David snorts as the other tries to quickly wipe it off his face.

“Stay there,” Jack orders, standing himself up. “I’m gonna go grab you somethin’, alright? Then we’ll head back.”

David nods, leaning his head back against the brick behind him and resting his eyes. There’s no movement in front of him.

“Stop staring and get me some food, Kelly,” he hums.

“I–” Jack huffs. There’s a pause. “On it.”

#anyway!! hope u enjoy !!#newsies #davey jacobs #david jacobs #newsies fanfic #jack kelly #fizz writes #fizz answers #javey #javid #newsies fic #newsies the musical #rizz does bthb!#i like that it kept my indentations…. tab key my beloved #jk i hopped on desktop and theyre gone

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dogw1tch · 14 hours

Text

Escapism 🍂 Pt. Two

18+ Minotaur x gender neutral Reader

(Breeding, size difference, reader has afab anatomy)

Part one here <3

Dogwitch notes: So this is becoming more of a story now. I guess there’s going to be three parts then… maybe more who knows? If you’re not in the mood to read plot the spicy stuff starts after the *** . Alsooo I’m working on a self indulgent sci-fi story next so part three might take a bit. Thank you for all the love btw! I appreciate it a lot!

Summary: You’ve seemingly become fated to a monstrous lover from a different world. It’s a lot to take in, perhaps a shower might clear your mind? But as the water runs over your body, it starts to bring back memories.

You awoke slowly, your back stiff and head pounding. It took you a few moments to gather your bearings as you tried to remember where you were. The library bright and quiet around you, much less imposing in the midday sun and you looked to the desk to see your book, neatly arranged with your translation papers. A dream then. It must have been. You fell asleep with your book and, imagined you were being ravished by the monster within. How embarrassing, you thought. Still, it was strange that nobody had woken you up, surely the librarian would have caught you and figured out that you had snuck in after dark. Or maybe he simply didn’t mind- you hadn’t caused any harm after all. Maybe he even appreciated your academic enthusiasm. The library was still empty it seemed, though after a Friday night at the university that wasn’t particularly surprising. You stretched and began to sit up, cringing as your muscles twinged in pain until you felt something strange. You weren’t wearing any trousers. Had you kicked them off while you were dreaming? If so that was even more embarrassing. But as you moved you realised that the whole lower half of your body and the chair you sat on was completely covered in some kind of half-dried liquid.

Not a dream.

You jumped up, pulling the blanket around you to hide your undress and tried to come to terms with what this meant. A fictional monster had come out of your book and mated you before disappearing and you hadn’t even really questioned it.

“Oh you’re awake!” The voice startled you and you whipped your head around, brandishing your novel to defend yourself from this surprise intruder. Xander, the librarian, stumbled backwards, gingerly holding out a pair of pyjama trousers for you to take. “Hey it’s all good, don’t worry, I’ll explain what’s happening- it’s alright!” He stuttered, looking genuinely afraid of you. You’d never paid much attention to his face but looking at him now he seemed utterly exhausted. The bags under his eyes were deep purple and his hair was an unbrushed mess- not that you were fairing much better right now. You lowered your weapon and took the trousers, shuffling behind a bookshelf to change while Xander covered his eyes. Once you had made yourself decent you joined him sitting on the couch that wasn’t covered in monster cum. He sat awkwardly, clutching a book in his lap that looked strikingly similar to your own. There was a moment of heavy silence where all you could hear was the creaking of the old university. You spoke up first, “so what the hell is happening?” Xander shuffled uncomfortably, not making eye contact.

“Yeah so, that book. I have one too,” he gestured towards the volume, “There’s a few out there. And each book can only be read by one person. I tried to translate yours but it didn’t really work. I knew when you started reading it that it was meant for you just like this one is meant for me.”

“What do you mean no one else can read them? You just need to know latin.”

“How good is your Latin exactly?”

You were a little offended by his tone considering you’d been perfectly able to translate the passages he’d skipped. “Pretty good I would say.”

“Alright,” he opened his own tome to a random page, “read this.” There was a passage of text, accompanied by an etching of a beautiful, muscular Minotaura dressed in fine robes and adorned with a crown of leaves. The text itself was clearly in traditional Latin, and you could recognise the odd word, beast, lover, fate, but as you tried to comprehend the paragraph, the meaning seemed to slip away from you.

“I’m just.. I’m still tired I guess.” Xander shook his head and held up your book, finding a section close to the end that you had yet to translate. “Read this.”

You spoke aloud;

The beast had found his lost lover. And yet they were still worlds apart. The king had manipulated great holes in their mind where there love for the Minotaur had once lay. The only time they seemed to remember their mate was in the throes of passion.

“There, see. I can’t read that,” Xander cut you off, looking a little uncomfortable once again. “But I can read this one. Because this one is for me.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Something happened, a long time ago, some kind of war between humans and monsters. Where once they had existed peacefully together, a powerful king instructed that no monster should have a human lover, insisted it gave them too much control over the human soul. Because once they had mated, their lives would become tied together.” Xander was starting to sound a little crazed now. “So they got separated right? But their souls are bound. So no matter where the souls go next, they’re destined to find each other in the end.”

This all sounded like madness to you, and yet you couldn’t deny the ache in your body and marks on your hips, left by the very real hands of a monstrous lover. “So what? The humans souls traveled to new hosts and the monsters…?”

“They enclosed themselves in old myths and legends and waited for their lovers to find them.” The librarian spoke as though this made complete sense but to you this was clearly the rambling of a lunatic. This had to be some kind of bizarre prank but Xander looked so earnest in his explanation.

“So… your book? That has your… mate inside?” The librarian looked away, his face flushed red.

“She’s been visiting me for a while now, every time it brings back more memories of our life together. I think, eventually, when it all comes back, we’ll be able to go back to the realm our souls came from.” He looked back at you and pressed your book firmly to your chest. “Take it with you… and rest up now, if your lover is anything like mine, I doubt you’ll be getting much sleep.” He smiled apologetically and left you alone, clutching your book, and feeling utterly lost.

***

It was a good job you didn’t have any lectures today and could spend most of your time in your room. You hadn’t opened the book again, you were a little afraid of what might happen. Xander can’t possibly have been telling the truth, but what other explanation could there possibly be. You knew what you’d seen and it had certainly felt so very real; you could feel your body heating from the thought alone. Well, true or not, you decided to follow his advice and get some more rest. But first, a shower was in order. You’d opted for a room with a shared bathroom to save a little money on rent while you studied. They were cleaned every day so it wasn’t so bad. Shedding your sweat soaked shirt and borrowed pyjamas, you stepped into the warm water, sighing as it fell over your body and soothed your aching muscles. You shut your eyes and let the stream run over your face. The sensation bought to mind an image of standing beneath a waterfall, great noise crashing all around you while a summer sun kissed your face. An image of bright flowers you had never seen before, dappled in droplets and shimmering around you. An image of strong arms that pulled you close to a soft, warm chest and hearing a heat that beat only for you.

You didn’t notice the hands that held you close, nor the way you tilted your head to allow soft kisses to be placed up your neck. You didn’t notice anything amiss until you heard that gruff, familiar voice in your ear. “My heart, I know you will remember.” You gasped and tried to spin around but his huge arms held you tight. “I did not mean to startle you. Please, my love, close your eyes, you’re so close to the memories.” His voice was gentle and smooth, relaxing you almost on instinct, and you closed your eyes once more, trying to focus on the feeling of water on your face.

You had been washing your hair in the waterfall, as you had done often in this place. Nobody here seemed shy or ashamed and you were unafraid of another seeing you as you bathed in the cool water. Your lover had approached, wrapping his arms around your body and covering you in kisses. “To see your body like this is a blessing from the gods themselves.” He had said and you smiled coyly, stretching your arm up to touch his face and expose yourself fully for his wandering hands. The beast had grabbed every part of you that he could reach and you could feel as the heat of his cock pressed against your back. You had turned around, his towering stature making you just the right hight to take him into your mouth..

Only when you felt the sensation of warm weight on your tongue did you realise what you were doing. The Minotaur groaned above you, his hand gently guiding your head as you licked and kissed down the length of his cock. There was no way you could take him completely into your mouth so you began to use your hands to stroke him slowly. He bucked his hips, leaving your face nestled at the base, looking up at him with pleading eyes. Just like before you began to crave having him inside you, mating you, taking you completely. His huge hand came down and stroked your face as you opened your mouth wide for him. With two fingers began to gently fuck your mouth, as your own hips began to twitch, craving friction. The steam that filled the bathroom was making you so unbearably hot. The Minotaur began to stroke his cock to the sight of you gagging around his fingers. “We have to train your mouth my love. After all, my mate needs to take me inside them in every way.” You were drooling now, his words making you wet and desperate. He seemed to notice your distress.

“Touch yourself for me, let me see how badly you crave me.” His voice was gentle but still felt commanding in a way that made your body want to obey. You began slowly, rubbing slow circles on your clit, legs shaking and struggling to support you. “Stretch yourself my darling. You want to take me inside you don’t you?” You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes as you drooled around his fingers and used your own to pleasure yourself. “Say it.” He command, his voice echoed around you.

“I want you inside me… I want you to mate me… please..”

The creature growled and pulled your face down on his cock, shoving it into your throat. You could barely take any of the length inside before you were choking but a strong hand on the back of your head held you in place as he fucked into you. His other hand came down between your legs to replace your fingers inside you, curling deep to pull out waves of pleasure. The lack of air in your lungs made you light headed, intensifying every feeling as you grew close to climax. He must have felt it too as you clenched around his thick fingers and he began to push your head further down, thrusting into you without mercy. A final surge of ecstasy washed over you and your vision went white as your monstrous lover released inside you. You tried your best to swallow, to show your mate your appreciation, but there was just too much and you leant back against the wall of the shower as cum dripped down your body.

The Minotaur looked down at you, admiring your body, flushed, marked and claimed. He took you gently in his arms and began to wash you in the running water. You leant into his soft chest as his hands worked lovingly over your body, massaging out any aches and pains. Though as he made his way between your legs, you couldn’t seem to help paying attention to your slick, stretched entrance. He began, almost casually, slipping his fingers back inside, shushing you softly when you let out a quiet moan. “You’ll take one more for me won’t you? I just don’t like to leave my mate empty.” You nod, sleepily and curl up closer to him, nuzzling your face into his fur. He picks you up and starts to pull you down onto the head of his cock. Maybe if you were more coherent, you might have complained that it could not possibly fit but, as you were, you took in as much as you could with a sigh. “There, we’re making progress. You’ll take all of me inside you soon. I’ll keep you full day and night until you feel empty without me inside you. Wont that be good my mate? All you’ll ever need to think about is how good it feels when I fill you up.” You nod, still half asleep as he slowly thrust into you. His movements were un-rushed, like he really wanted to savour the feeling of you around him. All you could do is moan and whimper as your body was stretched wider to take more of your mate inside you. Your hands grips his fur and you pulled yourself as close to his warm body as you could get. Soon enough, his thrusts became more frantic and you couldn’t help but cry out as he emptied inside you once more. The Minotaur kept you in place, even after he’d filled you up and rocked his hips to push his cum back into your over sensitive hole. “I’m going to stay as long as I can my love.” He whispered, “I want my seed to take. So you should sleep. Be rested so you might bare me calfs when we travel home.” You inhaled deeply the musky scent of your lover as the water washed over your skin and you let yourself drift away.

Hopefully nobody else needed to use the bathroom.

#monster fucker #nsft #monster imagine #monster nsft #monster smut #monster x human #minotaur x reader #minotaur x human #minotaur #monster x reader

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copper-16 · 3 days

Text

For those lovely people who read Do You See Something I Can’t?…Chapter 8 will be posted tomorrow (June 2nd), at 1pm EST!

We’ve got 5 chapters, 57k words in total, and a schedule (because I am nothing without my schedule!) Since the chapters are a little on the longer side, I want to give everyone ample time to fully read. So, the plan is that there will be a new chapter every 3 days, so the whole thing will be posted over the span of a little over 2 weeks.

I totally understand how it can be hard to follow a story when there are long gaps in between chapter being posted, so I hope this is easier to follow along and engage with, by writing everything ahead and posting in a streamline manner. We shall see if this makes it better for you guys as readers, I’m curious as to your feedback! Regardless I want people to enjoy reading it, and if that happens then I am a happy camper, above all else.

Spotify Playlist for the second half can be found here!

For everyone who is still reading this long ass announcement and have gotten themselves all caught up if they wish, here is the first part of Chapter 8 before it is posted tomorrow 🩵

Ingrid stared down at her phone, shifting nervously in her seat. Mapi sat across from her, the Spaniard’s hands folded on the table in front of her, as she watched the Norwegian closely.

The dark haired woman sat up more, swallowing roughly. There were a million thoughts going through her head, and she looked up at the brunette with a slightly panicked expression.

“What if I just went back?” Ingrid asked in a panic, and Mapi tilted her head to the side, her eyebrows furrowing.

“Do you actually want to? Or are you simply scared to make this call?” She asked gently, and the full back allowed herself to slouch slightly under the intensity of her—girlfriend? Friend? Person who professed their love to her less than 12 hours ago, and hasn’t had time to put a label on it yet?

She allows herself to slouch slightly under the intensity of her…of her…of Mapi’s gaze, feeling a bubble of shame rise up in her. The Spaniard is quick to stand, walking around the table to take a seat next to Ingrid as opposed to across from her.

“I am not asking to make you feel bad,” Mapi reminds gently, gesturing to the phone. “But I know you do not want to go back there, and that you are scared to put your foot down. You need to though, and I promise you will get through it. I will be right here,” she continued, and Ingrid looked over at her skeptically.

It was such a strange jump, the last twelve hours. Ingrid had returned to Barcelona to pack up her apartment to move, and had almost finished doing just that. There were boxes littered everywhere in her apartment, a fact that Mapi had yet to comment on.

Instead, they remained where they were at the table as the sun rose in the sky, and Ingrid worked up the courage to call her manager back and explain that she was not going back to Wolfsburg.

The Norwegian picked her phone up finally, pressing the contact for her manager before she held it up to her ear. Her foot tapped anxiously below her, a reminder of the anxiety coursing through her body even as Mapi sat beside her, looking at her with encouragement.

“Hello Ingrid!” Thomas said cheerfully into the phone, and Ingrid opened her mouth to speak before she coughed abruptly, which kick started her into speaking.

“H-hi Thomas!” She replied, her voice thready and nervous, an octave too high. If her plan had been to play it cool, she would have been failing miserably. Luckily, her only goal was to get through the phone call in one piece.

“Is everything alright?” Thomas asked quickly, concern laced into her tone.

“Yes, yes, everything is okay. I just need to talk to you about something,” Ingrid choked out, even as she felt like her throat might close up. Her free hand lashed out, clamping down on the center back’s thigh with a forcefield of anxiety.

The brunette, however, didn’t miss a beat, simply peeling the Norwegian’s hand away from her thigh and lacing their fingers together, squeezing softly. Ingrid gripped her hand tightly, and the Spaniard could feel the shake of the full back’s hand in hers.

“Okay, what did you need to discuss?” Thomas asked, sounding diplomatic. Ingrid took a large breath in, slowly letting it out before responding.

“I am going to stay at Barcelona. I will not be accepting Wolfsburg’s offer,” The dark haired woman managed to get out, hoping that she sounded more confident than she felt. Mapi’s thumb was very lightly trailing back and forth over the back of her palm, and she reminded herself very gently to relax her shoulders.

“You—what?” Her agent spluttered out, clearly caught off guard.

“I want to stay here, in Barcelona. Tell Wolfsburg I reject,” Ingrid repeated, her voice more secure this time.

“Ingrid, you would be insane to reject their offer! It is one of the most lucrative deals I’ve had come across my desk for a female footballer, you’d be in the top 5% of paid female footballers. Hell, you’ve already told them you’d accept!” Thomas implored, his voice edging on panic.

He had promised Wolfsburg that this deal would go through, that Ingrid would accept. She had always listened to him, she had always been easily manipulated when necessary.

“I gave them a verbal agreement, but no contract was signed. I don’t…I don’t care about the money. Get me more brand deals or something, I want to stay in Barcelona,” Ingrid repeated, standing up for herself as Mapi watched on, growing more nervous as the conversation continued. She couldn’t hear what Ingrid’s manager was saying, but she could tell that he wasn’t responding with a super positive tone.

“Ingrid, as your manager, I cannot let you do this. You need to get your head on straight,” Thomas replied harshly, and the full back straightened, her nerves washed away and replaced with something akin to anger.

“My head is perfectly straight,” if it were not for the seriousness of the situation, both women might have laughed at the falseness of this statement, considering the Norwegian’s sexuality. “I am staying in Barcelona.”

“You’ve told Wolfsburg you’d be there!” Thomas cried, though it wasn’t really true. She had agreed to the deal, sure, but she had never signed anything. She wasn’t obligated to them, she only was because Thomas had tried to make her obligated to them because he knew it would earn himself more money.

“No, you told Wolfsburg I would be there. And why the hell are you pressuring me so heavily? You are supposed to be on my side, not theirs!” Ingrid accused, and Mapi resisted the urge to flinch at the return of the woman she had become acutely used to in the last six months.

“I am on your side, it’s just that—” Thomas tried, but the dark haired woman was quick to cut him off before he could really even begin.

“No, you’re not, if you’re trying this hard to push me into something I clearly do not want. I’m staying, that is the end of the discussion!” Ingrid cried, removing the phone from her ear and slamming her finger down onto the ‘end call’ button.

The Norwegian’s phone clattered onto the table as she breathed heavily, a fraught silence descending between them.

The brunette was holding her breath, unsure of what was going to happen. Ingrid had been upset on the phone, she had been angry.

Would it translate into anger toward Mapi? That is how it had always been, but the Spaniard wasn’t sure if that would persist or not. She knew Ingrid was capable of change, but she was unsure if something as triggering as this could lead to anything resembling softness.

What’s going to happen? Well…you’ll have to tune in to find out!

#copper 16 asks #ingrid engen #mapi leon

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