#IF they did which of course they would never (light would specify more than once)

[multifandomlandfill]

If L read explicit Kira x L rpf in front of Light, Light would be caught way sooner because he'd murder L (with his hands if he had to) on the spot. Memories or not it wouldn't matter.

[junicult]

contains ; suggestive conversation (pillow talk typa stuff). sappy sappy cheesy & corny fluff! just the way i like it! established relationship — dating. two ppl in love blah blah blah. gender non specified reader. he is all i ever think about.

note ; hello! didn’t wanna look at this in my drafts anymore. boo!

“what’s the wildest thing you’ve done in bed?” you ask, smiling over the rim of your near-empty glass of wine.

your lips are well past stained at this point, dazed eyes holding a curiously eager gaze with the man sitting similarly before you.

“the wildest thing?” harvey repeats, eyebrows raised, looking around as if to search for his answer.

“yeah, like, the craziest thing you’ve done while having sex.”

you’ve been playing this little question game for hours now, concept of time nothing but a distant thought after you both downed even more glasses of wine a single bottle could fill. it’s been a while since you’ve been able to relax like this, which is well in agreeance with your boyfriend.

you’re quite tipsy at this point. facing him on your living room couch, legs crossed and arm propping your head that’s perched against the back of the couch.

he purses his lips, shaking his head in deep thought. “i dunno…i guess um,” he presses a knuckle to the upper rim of his glasses, adjusting them, “i guess the kitchen—having sex in the kitchen, probably.”

you furrow your brows, giving him a long look. “in the kitchen?” it’s your turn to repeat, this time confused.

he shrugs and nods.

“with me?” you ask, more clarification than uncertainty in your tone.

“of course with you.”

“no, i’m speaking in general, like out of everyone you’ve ever had sex with—what was the craziest thing you did?”

“i know the question. i said have sex in the kitchen.”

you stare, unwavering eye contact glued to his. you know him, you know he’s definitely telling the truth, yet somehow you were shocked. “that was your craziest sexual experience?”

“i take it wasn’t yours, huh?” he snorts, giving the contents in his glass one small swirl before he leans over and places it on the coffee table.

you laugh airily, “i mean i…told you about the ferris wheel—“

“—ah,” he cuts you off, shivering, “yes, not my thing.”

“so let me get this straight,” you mimic his previous gesture—placing the glass on the table—, using both of your now-free hands to hold out in front of you. “your craziest, absolutely wildest sexual experience was on that kitchen table?”

he flicks his gaze past your head to where you’re pointing your thumb behind you. he suppresses a quirked up lip from the recollection.

“well, i didn’t say it was absolutely wild. but if i had to pick, that would be my answer.” he murmurs, and despite the topic, he’s managing his typical flushed cheeks and nervous lip-nibble well.

“wow,” you lean back with a light laugh. “i’m honored.”

“i’m glad.” he smiles.

he reaches back for the last sip of his wine, taking a short whiff of the glass before savoring the last drop. maybe he’s biased, but your wine will always be his favorite. he never allows it to go to waste.

it’s late. his eyelids rest heavily over his pupils, contrasting your wide-awake gaze. you’re eager to move around, emphasizing most of your words with hand gestures while he’s remained put for the last couple hours. despite his tiredness, he soaks every minute he has with you just as he does with your wine.

you clear your throat. “okay, so now i have a new question.”

“alright.” he nods, leaning into his hand.

“what was the best sex you’ve ever had? it’s okay if it wasn’t with me.”

he exhales from his nose at that, smile to accompany his cheeks.

“well, it was,” he confirms, once again looking off to the side. although, he doesn’t pause long, seemingly prepared with his answer. “i would say, after you told me you loved me.”

you beam immediately. “i knew it. you’re such a sentimentalist.” you tease, reaching over to pinch his thigh. but you soften, laying your hand flat and gently soothing your thumb over his pants. “that’s mine too.”

“really? even more than the ferris wheel?”

you scoff. “oh, absolutely. a million times better.” you wave a hand dismissively, and he tries not to let the comment go to his head. “that was purely just to say i’ve done it. at least you can make me finish.”

of course his cheeks set aflame, due to the ego boost and vulgarity. you smile as he purses his lips after murmuring an awkward thank you. it’s always so amusing to make him flustered, given such an easy task.

you sigh, rolling your head back against the couch. your fingers lightly tap at your t-shirt clad stomach, eyes wandering each crease and ridge in your ceiling during a moment of peaceful silence you’ll always relax into when you’re with harvey.

it’s only then do your eyes feel heavy, and it finally dawns on you just what time it is, and how early you have to wake up tomorrow.

“it’s late,” you conquer, staying put, “do you wanna stay—“

“i’ve got a question.” he hums. you turn your head, remaining relaxed against the cushions, to find him looking off towards the dimming fireplace in front of you.

“yeah?”

“who was the…if you had to rank everyone, uhm,” he presses his knuckles into the cushion beside his thighs, readjusting himself but not without a clear of his throat. “who’s the best sex you’ve ever had?”

you allow a smile to creep onto your face. it seems purposeful he’s avoiding your eyes, the golden hue of the crackling fire causing his warm skin to glow. his lips look a little pinker due to the light—or maybe the wine—and from your angle you can see his dark brown eyelashes clearly from the space between his glasses.

you let out a faux sigh, almost taunting.

“hm, that’s a toughie.” you snicker, now readjusting to sit sideways on the cushion with one leg crossed and the other dangling over the couch. “out of the whopping four?”

he gives you a peek, subconsciously wiping his palms across his pants wordlessly.

you almost want to tease him a little longer—the shy purse of his lips making it just so easy. yet you give up quick, leaning in to snake your arm around his neck and press a hand to his cheek.

“without a doubt, it’s you. don’t even have to think about it.” you giggle, pressing a soft kiss to his warm lips.

“really?” there he goes, yet again doubting himself.

“harvey, i’ve never been in love like i am with you. i’ve never been with someone and started picturing marriage after the second date.” you croon, so close you can nearly press your forehead against his. you look down at his lips. “it’s not just because of the sex—but believe me, that plays a good part. no one has known how to love me like you can.”

he swallows, mimicking your gaze and fixates on your lips as you continue, “you make me feel so comfortable, and so appreciated. you’re so sweet, and caring, and reliable. i can tell you anything.”

his fingers are warm from the fire, and he delicately uses them to push pieces of your hair that have fallen in front of your face, blocking his view of you.

just as you’re about to go on, he stops you. both of his hands finding purchase at the crevice of your neck, while his lips meet yours. not just a peck, a deep and meaningful kiss that forms all of your praises into the action. the same kind of kiss that takes your breath away, even before it started when you quietly gasp as he tugged you close. he ignores the way his nose bumps into yours, instead tilting his head to the side once you melt into him, pressing a flat hand against his chest for balance.

it’s deep and needy. the wine somehow tastes even better off your lips, his tongue selfishly stealing some of the sweetness. in some ways you think you could genuinely go stupid just from the way he kisses you.

he takes a moment to pull away, the exact way that has him sucking all of the air out of your lungs and leaves you chasing the feeling and making your brain grow fuzzy.

letting you go, he licks his lips and drops his quick gaze down to yours before looking back in your lidded eyes. he’s so impossibly skilled at taking your breath away, literally and figuratively.

“like a starved man,” you tease, masking your faint whimper with a chuckle.

“i know,” he swallows. “i love you.”

“i love you more.”

he shakes his head, padded thumb softly pressing against your bottom lip where his gaze sits.

“not possible.”

[meatballlady]

It's time for the fandom to start Looking Where the Furniture Isn't

For a bit of background, one of my irl professional responsibilities is to identify and avoid making undue assumptions. There are a LOT of things that we humans assume. We assume that terminology means the same to other people as it does to us. We assume everyone has the same context of a situation we do. We assume that we aren't missing any information.

We operate on the information we have.

There was an ask before season 2 aired asking whether many of the plot points had been revealed by the clips (which almost all took place during the first half of the first episode). Neil's response was something like "oh you sweet summer children you know nothing yet." And boy was he right.

Neil Gaiman is a master of controlling assumptions. Just look at his Tumblr askbox replies.

Here's a few s2 examples of assumptions we all made (as I'm starting a rewatch):

Why did Crowley do the (very fun and distracting) apology dance? You might say it was because he walked out on Jim, but he never specified, did he? And Aziraphale was surprised that he proposed they would hide him "together"

How did Shax get a rumor about something going down in the Up (presumably) before Gabriel even went downstairs?

Did Jim need to bring Aziraphale something other than the box? He never actually specifies; Aziraphale just assumes it's the box.

Why did Aziraphale assume Maggie could feel [Michael, Uriel, Saraquael] arriving?

Why does Aziraphale say Heaven would notice even a small miracle? Crowley is seen doing a miracle before their large miracle (traffic light), and later Aziraphale makes the guy leave the table at the pub

To go deeper:

Are we assuming that characters are telling the truth? Example: "Miracles don't work like that," "[Extreme sanctions] was just something we said to frighten the cherubs" etc.

Are we assuming that nothing of note happened between apocalypse v1 and s2? (ex. the claims that Crowley didn't tell Aziraphale about the trial in heaven despite him referencing it in s2s1) What if we the audience are just jumping in near the end of this story?

Are these assumptions correct? Or are we just working with the information that we have?

Now that I'm looking for it, there's also SO many corrections of assumptions (usually for the sake of a joke, but still) (these are just the ones that happen while I type them out while watching e2):

"Can I be a blue one?" "You haven't annoyed me yet" "But can I be?"

"You recognized [Michael, Uriel, Saraquael] those people who were in the shop just now?" "Of course, they were in the shop, just now!"

"oh my god!" "blasphemy, angel, that's not like you", "no, oh, my god"

Many of the themes were about hiding things in plain sight: the kids (and kids), Jim, "aim for my mouth but shoot past my ear." Clue (1985) was heavily referenced in the lead-up. The whole point of that film was looking at what was going on elsewhere. Looking where the furniture isn't, you might say.

The more I watch s2, the less certain I am that any of it makes sense on its own.

I'm currently combing through it to see if there are any discrepancies with where people are (easiest example is when Crowley just disappears from the bookshop while they're reviewing the Job story). It'll be a lot of data and might not lead anywhere, but I'll definitely share once I finish looking into it.

I will also honestly admit that these things are all circumstantial, and I could be going insane. But they just keep cropping up all over the place. I've got a lot of time before S3 comes up and I intend to investigate the furniture. And try to not make assumptions.

[mmmleckerlecker]

Snack Number Fourteen

Happy vore day 2023! Please enjoy this EXTREMELY self indulgent fic that’s been cooking in my brain for quite awhile now…

Summary: The predator had always prided himself on his self-control. And he really does like to make things last. Just another night with him and his (fourteenth) favorite snack.

Contents: m/m, cruel pred, willing pred, unwilling prey, non-fatal, pre-vore, partial digestion, post-vore (aka the main focus), regurgitation, I imagined a size-difference while writing but it’s never really specified

Wordcount: 5,301

* * * * * * * * * *

The predator came home that evening feeling exhausted. And absolutely starving.

He wished he could say that his work had ended once he’d left the office just a half hour ago, but he’d be lying. He knew very well that there was an extensive pile of paperwork just waiting for him on his desk at home. It really was going to be a long night.

Ah, well, no rest for the wicked and all that.

The predator did, fortunately, have at least one thing to look forward to that night, and he was very much looking forward to it. He could barely contain his excitement, nearly bouncing on his toes in a very un-predator-like fashion. But it had been so, so long. He could forgive himself this once for his lack of self-control.

And so the predator bounced his way upstairs, right to the locked doorway at the end of the hall. He pulled out a tiny silver key, slid it into the lock, and turned.

“Good evening, my little snack,” he said with a grin, flicking on the light of the now unlocked room. “You’re looking exceptionally… recovered tonight.”

The boy— fresh out of college, still so strong and vibrant— let out a groan.

“Please,” he begged as he squeezed himself into the farthest corner. “Not again. Please… just a little longer.”

The predator entered the room and smiled in a way which he considered warm and affectionate. Unfortunately, he must not have gotten it quite right because the closer he got, the more the boy only shrank and shivered away.

“Now, now,” the predator chided, crouching down in front of the boy. “It’s been weeks since last time. We’re more than overdue.” He reached out, ignoring the way his snack flinched away, and ran his fingers over the boy’s cheek. The flesh was riddled with burn scars but otherwise healthy. “See? You’ve already healed up.”

The boy didn’t answer. The predator tried smiling again, making sure to show all his teeth.

The boy had been living in this room for months now, which was a good deal longer than many of his predecessors. The predator had no inkling of the boy’s name, all he knew was that he was Number Fourteen. He didn’t really have any desire to learn the boy’s name either. To the predator, he was just another snack. The fourteenth snack, to be precise.

You see, the predator was a master of control, and whenever he found something he really liked, he liked to drag it out for as long as possible. When he was a boy, he once bought a lollipop that he enjoyed so much, he made it last for seven and one-quarter years. Every night like clockwork, he would take precisely one lick of the candy. No more, no less. Just enough to indulge in its sugary sweet flavor. And then he would carefully wrap it and put it away for the next day. He’d prided himself on his patience and pacing, even then.

Years later and the only thing that had changed were his tastes. Now his snacks were a bit more… complex.

“You’ll need to eat first, of course,” the predator continued to his snack. “And drink. We can’t have you getting de-hydrated now, can we?”

The boy was already shaking his head, but the predator didn’t pay him any mind. He knew what was best for his snack, what measures to take to make them last the longest. He’d gone through many trials and errors.

“Come now.”

The boy didn’t resist when the predator hoisted him to his feet. He’d given up fighting long ago. The predator led his snack down the hall, down the stairs, and into the dining room, where he bade him sit at the table. The boy obeyed, his scarred face looking utterly despondent.

“What do you say?” the predator asked as he opened one of the kitchen cabinets. “Beef stew for dinner? That is one of your favorites, isn’t it?”

This, of course, was a little inside joke between the two of them. Beef stew was the only thing the boy ever got for dinner. For some reason though, he didn’t seem to find this joke very funny. The predator let out a wistful sigh. Snack Number Thirteen would have laughed. Or at least offered one of the witheringly sarcastic remarks that he so loved. Even after all these months, the predator missed their heated banter.

The predator didn’t wait for an answer from his current snack before pulling one of the many cans of beef stew off the shelf. He poured it into a bowl, then very kindly heated it up in the microwave. He put the bowl and a cup of ice water on the table before the boy. The ice water was actually a special treat for tonight. Usually he only got room temperature water.

“Go on then,” the predator urged as he took the seat across from his snack. “Eat up!”

Ever so painfully slowly, the boy began to eat. The predator watched with keen interest. Every bite of food, every sip of water, every contraction of those beautiful throat muscles, just made him all the more hungry. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the table. Snack Number Fourteen shifted the spoon in his hand and cleared his throat.

“You don’t have to watch me eat,” he mumbled, eyes firmly locked on his half-empty bowl.

“Oh, but I very much do,” the predator told him, resting his chin in his hand. “I need to make sure you eat everything. And I need to know exactly when you’re done and ready. And besides that… I do enjoy watching my snacks feed themselves.”

The boy’s fingers squeezed at the handle of his spoon before he took one more deliberate bite.

Number Six had been a slow eater too. Even slower than Number Fourteen, surprisingly. She seemed to think she could put off the inevitable if she ate at the pace of a turtle in slow motion. The predator had always found that amusing. He had the patience of a saint, and a bowl of stew could only be stretched out for so long.

The predator smiled lazily at the memory. This seemed to unnerve his snack who happened to glance up at that moment. With a small intake of breath, the boy began scooping his stew with a bit more purpose than before.

In a few more minutes, the only thing he had left were a few last swallows of water. The predator watched, nearly quivering with anticipation. The last drops of water rolled so, so slowly past the boy’s lips. He swallowed. He set his glass down.

The predator lunged, unable to wait any longer. In the blink of an eye, he had the boy by his shirt and was yanking him across the table. Silverware, cup, and bowl were knocked carelessly to the side. The chair toppled backward as the boy kicked his feet, struggling fruitlessly as he was dragged across the table.

Snack Number Fourteen only managed a small cry of surprise before he was cut off by his head being shoved unceremoniously into the predator’s mouth.

The predator’s eyes fluttered shut and he let out a little moan of contentment. The first taste was always the best part, in his opinion. He took his first swallow, felt the way his throat stretched, and then had second thoughts on that opinion. Actually, he thought, it was the first swallow that was the best part. His fingers curled into the boy’s shirt, clinging to him and pulling him in further.

Ignoring the way his snack groped blinding at his face, the predator took another swallow. The boy’s shoulders stretched his throat even more and gave the added bonus on impeding his snack’s assault.

The predator considered the possibility of the second swallow being the best part.

He continued this reassessment after each greedy gulp. The third one began stretching his ribs apart in a sickeningly satisfying way. The fourth one saw him halfway through, right at the boy’s hips. It was at this point, Snack Number Fourteen’s head finally entered the predator’s stomach and the predator let out an involuntary shiver. He was sure now that the fourth swallow had to be the best part. Nothing could surpass this feeling.

But then he took his fifth swallow and he was forced to scoot his chair backwards, away from the table, to make room for his now rapidly expanding middle. His sixth swallow had his stomach stretching so much, he really didn’t think it could get any better than this, but then he was only at his snack’s knees! A seventh swallow and only the boy’s toes remained out in the open.

The predator touched a delicate hand to his throat so he could feel the last of his snack sliding down. He took his eighth swallow and closed his mouth as Snack Number Fourteen disappeared fully behind his lips. The last of the boy went smoothly down his throat, and the predator winced as his belly was stretched to maximum capacity. He even winced as it pressed painfully into the table he’d so politely just pushed himself away from.

Somewhat annoyed, he took another difficult scoot backwards, freeing himself from the confines of the table edge. Once a safe distance from the table, he allowed himself to relax in his chair. His eyes fell shut and his hands wandered quite greedily to the now healthy curve of his belly. A deep contentment spread through him as his fingers searched out the shape of his snack.

The boy, for his part, was shifting and stretching within, most likely trying to find the closest approximation to a comfortable position. Somehow the predator doubted there were many such positions in there, but really that was none of his concern. For his part, he was in heaven. And there was only one thing that could make it better.

With a dreamy sigh, he gave in and let his stomach come to life with the beginnings of digestion.

A wave of pleasure crashed over the predator, easing away the stress of his work day and making all that paperwork seem like a distant memory. If he could live in one moment forever, it would be this one. Full, warm, carefree. Even his snack could barely keep still. Although, it was doubtful from any kind of pleasure. More likely it would be the discomfort that came from slowly being digested alive.

He’d be perfectly safe however. Maybe a little worse for wear, but he’d come back up in one piece when the predator was through with him. Probably. You see, this is where the predator’s superior self control came in handy. His snacks were just too good to finish off altogether, so he’d learned just how much to slow his digestion and just how long they could last under those conditions. The boy was his lollipop, and once the predator had indulged in his single taste, he’d put him back in his wrapper for next time.

After several minutes of lounging comfortably and gently kneading his stomach into submission, the predator decided he’d stalled long enough. There was a pile of paperwork with his name on it just waiting for him.

But as he sat upright, the chair squeaking in protest, he realized just how sleepy his snack had made him. And though he fought so very valiantly to convince himself that work was more important, the need for sleep won out. He deserved a little nap, didn’t he? He’d been working terribly hard lately. Of course he deserved it.

So with the resolution that it would only be a very short nap, the predator hefted himself to his feet and slowly made his way to the bedroom. The journey was made somewhat difficult by the suddenly very lively weight in his middle, scrambling for purchase with each step, but the predator fought through such tribulations with barely a moan of protest.

The softness of his bed called to him and he fell into it without hesitation. He felt his snack pushing back as it was unceremoniously pinned between his weight and the bed, but the sleep now overtaking the predator left him quite unbothered by his snack’s inconvenient location.

As his eyes fell shut, the predator double checked that he had his stomach under control and promised himself once more that this nap would only last a short while.

And then he knew no more.

* * * * * * * * * *

When the predator awoke, he found himself unusually groggy. He blinked and yawned in the half-light of his room, wondering why he didn’t feel his usual peppy self after a good, hearty nap. It wasn’t until he tried to sit up and found himself impeded by the weight in his middle that he remembered what was going on.

He checked the time and was aghast at how late it was. Internally, he scolded himself for being so careless. Where was his usual sense of self control? Not only that, but he was further worried by how unusually still the weight in his stomach was.

He grimaced as he looked down at the curve of his belly. He liked to pretend his snacks were lollipops that would last ages if he was careful enough— one little taste at a time, but sometimes they felt more like a piece of gum— chew it up and spit it out ad nauseam, but grow too careless and you could swallow it, make it gone for good after just one tiny mistake.

If he wanted to get technical, he could say that this was how he’d lost most, or rather all, his previous snacks. He’d get distracted just one time for a little too long and his stomach had its way with them. Tragic, really. So many snacks gone too soon when they still had so much to offer.

“Hello, in there?” the predator called as he poked at his engorged tummy. He felt some small hope in finding whatever was inside to still be relatively solid. “Are you still kicking in there, Number Fourteen?”

The predator jumped in surprise when he received what felt like a kick to his stomach walls.

“Oh!” he said as a second kick (for good measure, he assumed) struck another uncomfortable blow. “I thought I’d finished you off in my sleep!” he told his snack in excitement. “But you’re doing surprisingly well in there, it seems. I think you could last for another few hours at most!”

There was a pause in which the predator was sure his snack was processing this exciting new opportunity, and then Number Fourteen went absolutely feral, struggling with a ferocity he’d seemingly given up on after the first five or six times he’d been been swallowed down. The predator was impressed. His current snack was now rivaling the persistence of Snack Number Four. That one never seemed to grow exhausted or give up.

“Yes, yes,” the predator offered his assurances as he kneaded his snack back into submission, “I know you’re just as elated as I am to spend more time together.”

Another kick.

The predator gave his belly a firm squeeze, coaxing the contents within to cooperate. “But you’ll need to try to contain yourself. Or would you rather continue acting up? It does get rather difficult to control my stomach when you’re moving so deliciously about.”

His snack went deathly still.

“Thought so.”

With only a negligible amount of difficulty, the predator pushed himself out of bed and stumbled out of the room. His snack came back to life as the movement jostled it about. The predator clutched at his belly as it cramped up. He never did like walking on a full stomach.

Finally, he reached his desk. His office chair sat invitingly before a not-so-inviting looking stack of papers. He frowned, still fighting off the grogginess from his earlier nap. Even with the comfort of a full belly and a reinvigorating nap, doing paperwork felt about as desirable as pulling teeth. His own teeth, of course. The predator had never pulled someone else’s teeth, but he thought it would likely be more interesting than paperwork.

The predator turned his thoughts over and over in his head, looking for something, anything that could make the task at hand even just a tad bit more enticing.

The predator snapped his fingers as his thoughts clicked into place.

“That’s it!” he exclaimed before heading back to the kitchen, still clutching his belly to keep the both of them steady.

Yes, he’d had one snack, but why not a second snack? And not a special snack like Number Fourteen. But just a normal snack, something to munch on. Oh, he did love to munch, and his snacks absolutely loathed sharing space with actual food. They always got disgruntled and squirmy, just enough so that the predator got a pleasant internal massage out of it.

The predator threw open his pantry with relish and began digging through the shelves for something of interest. This proved to be a more difficult task than usual as the weight in his middle continually threatened to throw him off balance whenever he leaned down for a closer look. Thankfully, the predator was never one for quitting and he fought valiantly not to fall flat on his face (an effort he was sure his snack appreciated as well). After an arduous battle with the pantry shelves and his own stomach, the predator emerged victorious with his prize in hand. A somewhat simple bag of potato chips, never before opened. Now this was sure to motivate him to his paperwork.

The predator was halfway back to his desk before he fully considered the consequences of choosing such a salty snack. Of course he’d need a beverage to wash it down with, it was only sensible. He turned on his heel, then nearly turned into a topple as he forgot he was quite belly-heavy at the moment. His non-potato chip snack braced itself awkwardly against his stomach walls while the predator readjusted himself.

Next thing, in a series of events much like in the pantry, the predator was rifling through the refrigerator. When he finally stepped away, he was carrying a bottle of only the finest of cherry colas and glad to be upright and well-balanced again.

With a certainty that he was finally prepared for that hateful pile of paperwork, the predator returned to his desk. He pulled out his chair and fell into it with a grateful sigh. It was always terribly tiresome carrying around so much extra weight. It took some adjusting, lowering his seat so there was room for his belly beneath the desk, and spreading his knees so the weight of his snack didn’t cut off his circulation, but finally the predator could comfortably rest his elbows on the desk and start writing.

With a very satisfying burst of salty scents, he tore open the bag of chips. He took a bite and gave an agreeable hum. Of course Snack Number Fourteen was his favored thing to eat, but they just didn’t provide the pleasurable crunch of a good potato chip.

The predator couldn’t suppress a small smile when he swallowed and felt the consequent twitch of surprise from Number Fourteen.

“Sorry about that,” he said, patting his stomach and hoping he was hitting somewhere close to his snack’s back. He wasn’t actually sorry. In fact, he quite liked the idea of all his favorite foods in one place, but it didn’t seem very politic to say so aloud.

He apologized and patted his stomach/maybe-Number-Fourteen’s-back again when he took a swig of soda for the first time. Number Fourteen gave a jab of annoyance and a very unsuccessful shifting of positions, but other than that the predator didn’t get any further protests from his snack.

“Right then,” the predator mumbled as he leafed through his papers, “I guess the only thing left to do is get started.”

And so he did. The next few hours were nothing but the scratching of his pen and the munching of his chips. His snack was restless for a great deal of it, particularly when the predator swallowed down some soda, but nothing too distracting. It probably helped that the chips and cola barely lasted through the first hour.

When his one hand was free, the predator would rest it distractedly on his middle, appreciating the warmth his slow digestion provided. He could feel, and occasionally hear, his stomach working ever so slowly over the contents within. It was all the same to his stomach— chips, soda, another living being. It plodded along relentlessly with its one job, contracted and breaking down whatever was put into it. It brought a certain kind of awe to the predator, and he loved to help it along with the occasional doting rub.

The predator didn’t notice it happening, but all of a sudden the hour was very late. He stared at the time for a few moments, not quite comprehending how so much of it had already passed. Come to think of it, he thought as he straightened out his now completed pile of paperwork, he hadn’t felt any movement from his snack in quite awhile.

“You still hanging on in there?” the predator asked, pressing his fingers into the curve of his belly. He couldn’t help but cringe as it felt like the form of his snack was much softer than it previously had been.

“Oh dear,” he said softly. And he really had been doing so well with this one.

He was just about to give up and go to bed so his stomach could finish up the job, when he felt the weakest of movement come from deep within his middle.

“Ah, so you are still alive in there!”

As if to exacerbate his point, his snack gave another commendable effort at moving.

“Right, just one moment then,” the predator said, clumsily pushing himself away from his desk and hoisting himself upright again. “Don’t want to dirty up my office, you understand.”

Number Fourteen gave a terrible shudder as the predator began his somewhat uncomfortable walk to the bathroom. The predator cringed again with each step. The contents of his stomach felt somewhat less… solid than when he’d made his earlier trip to the kitchen. He’d really goofed up this time, hadn’t he?

He hesitated once he made it to the bathtub. There was a fine line between lightly simmered in stomach acids but still salvageable versus broken down beyond repair yet still somehow clinging to life. The last thing he wanted was to deal with a quickly expiring snack in his bathtub. He really didn’t think he could manage swallowing them down again after that. Maybe it would be better for everyone if he gave up and just went to bed, letting his stomach finish off Number Fourteen.

The predator frowned as he stroked his hand in circles over the now softened surface of his belly.

Oh, but finding a new snack was so difficult. And he really did enjoy Number Fourteen, even if the boy sorely lacked a sense of humor.

“I really hope you’re not too far gone,” he told his snack with a new sense of resolve.

With a practiced contracting of muscles, the predator began the awfully distasteful process of bringing his snack back up. While he enjoyed keeping his snacks around for as long as possible, he couldn’t say that he quite enjoyed this part of the process. If he could simply make his snack re-appear outside of his stomach, he’d lead a much happier life. But alas. Such are the sacrifices he makes to get what he wants.

After much heaving and gagging, Snack Number Fourteen pushed its way back up the predator’s throat to land in a sloppy heap on the bathtub floor.

The boy groaned as the predator leaned down to inspect him.

“I thought you weren’t gonna let me out this time.” Snack Number Fourteen’s voice was hoarse and he wheezed with each breath.

The predator cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment. The boy really was in the worst shape he’d ever seen.

“Well,” the predator started, looking for the right words, “sorry about that.”

The boy gave him a blood-shot look of pure loathing.

“I really didn’t mean to go this far,” the predator continued, unabated. “I simply got so caught up in my work that I… forgot about you. You know how it is.”

“I really don’t,” the boy replied, sounding much like what the predator imagined sandpaper would sound like if it could speak.

The predator decided the best thing to do in this situation would be to pretend he hadn’t heard his snack. So instead, he grabbed the shower head and reached for the faucet. “Why don’t we get you washed up then?”

The snack let out a startled cry as the cold water washed over his angry, red skin. The predator quietly apologized again, but it was no matter. A minute later and his snack lay motionless, eyes fallen shut with exhaustion as he let the predator clean off all the wayward stomach acid from his skin. The predator was quite adept at this— starting at the top, where the more sensitive skin was, and working his way down. There was something very satisfying about starting the process of restoring his snack all over again. But even after the predator had finished, the boy lay sprawled on the bathtub floor, eyes closed, chest rising and falling.

The predator kept silent. He did feel a little guilty. Not only that, but also a little frustrated. With his snack in this state, it would take weeks for him to be strong enough for another round in his stomach. Perhaps it was karma for the predator’s own hubris. He prided himself on his self-control, but a momentary lapse in focus had left him with his prized Number Fourteen in this horrific state. Maybe it would have been easier if he’d just accepted his loss and gone to bed. At least he could start off with a new snack right away.

The predator gave a mental shrug.

Ah well, no use crying over spilled milk and all that.

“Why don’t we get some aloe on you?” he suggested once he could no longer stand waiting for his snack to come out of whatever state he was in. Patience was a virtue, of course, but it was getting very late and the predator needed his beauty sleep just as much as anyone.

The boy’s eyes flicked open and slid to look at him.

“Fine,” was his only word.

The boy pulled himself out of the tub and took a careful seat on the edge of the closed toilet. The predator did a thorough job slathering him in aloe, something the boy seemed to appreciate.

After a failed attempt at getting the boy to walk back to his room on his own, the predator was forced to carry him there. He wondered if the boy really was so weak from his injuries that he couldn’t stand or if he was only feigning weakness as a sort of punishment for the predator’s neglectfulness. The predator supposed, in a way, this arrangement wasn’t much different than earlier, except now he held his snack in his arms, not his belly.

“Home sweet home,” the predator commented as he pushed his way into Number Fourteen’s room.

The boy began squirming at the sight of it. He made a little sound, like a cross between a groan and a growl.

“I know you’re ecstatic to see it again,” the predator told him. “Especially since you almost didn’t make it back this time.”

The boy stopped squirming. The predator deposited him on the cot at the far end of the room.

“Wait there for a moment, please,” he told the boy before heading out of the room. The boy didn’t respond, he just laid very still on his tiny bed, staring at the ceiling. The predator made sure he locked the door behind him.

He headed to the pantry and pulled out two large plastic bottles of water and another bottle of sports drink for good measure. He was about to make a beeline back to his snack when he stopped. After a night like this, the predator usually waited until the next day to give his snack anymore food, but he had nearly digested the poor boy alive this time. He didn’t want to ruin the perfectly good rapport they had developed over these special months together.

He scanned the pantry shelves for something he could give the boy as an apology. Something that really said, “Sorry I got distracted and nearly sent you on a one-way trip to my bowels.” Even the predator grimaced at such a thought.

He took some time considering all his options, until he settled on what seemed the best one. A halfway finished jar of cocktail peanuts. The jar was halfway empty because they were quite good, and the predator picked it up with a sense of satisfaction, certain he’d made the best choice to demonstrate his deepest condolences.

When he re-entered the room, he found that the boy hadn’t moved from his frankly despondent state on the bed. The predator approached, keeping the peanuts hidden from view, and set one of the water bottles and the sports drink on the wobbly bedside table.

“Get up,” he commanded the boy, prodding him with the other water bottle. “You need to drink. Being burned can leave you very badly dehydrated.” And then he stopped and re-considered. “Or at least sunburns can. I’m not too sure about stomach acid burns as, well, you know, I’ve never had the privilege of being partly digested.”

These words roused the boy. With hiss of pain, he pushed himself into a sitting position and gave the predator one his favorite looks to give— a venomous stare.

He still took the bottle and began chugging the water, stray dribbles running down his cheeks and over his exposed throat.

“I do have something extra for you,” the predator told him, unable to hide his delight. “Something special.”

The boy stopped drink immediately. “What is it?” he asked, sounding almost excited for once.

“Here!” The predator said, unable to wait any longer. He shoved the jar of peanuts toward his snack.

The boy looked down at it and blinked.

“It’s an apology of sorts,” the predator explained. “You know, since I went a little too far this time. I honestly feared you wouldn’t make the night if I let you out, and I almost gave up on you. But look at you now! I’m sure you’ll be ready for another round in no time!”

The boy’s face fell and his eyes went cold and empty. “Thanks,” he said, the word devoid of any of his earlier excitement.

“Of course, my snack,” the predator told him as jovial as ever. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it then.”

Snack Number Fourteen didn’t answer. Only gave him a look of searing hatred, his blood-shot eyes somehow burning brighter than before.

The predator only gave him a reassuring smile as he closed the door.

“Goodnight, my snack. Until next time.”

He locked the door tight behind him.

And in just a few minutes, the predator had fallen into bed, finally letting a real, deep sleep overcome him. Despite a few bumps in the road, tonight had been a very fulfilling night. The only thing left empty now was his stomach, which grumbled quietly, eagerly awaiting the next time it would get to spend a few hours working over Snack Number Fourteen.

[jiracheer]

Ingo for “Here, take my blanket/jacket" please!

authors note: INGO,,,, MY WEAKNESS,,,,,,,,,,, I know you didn't specify which Ingo, so i went with warden ingo!! hope that's okay!!

I wanna give a special thank you to Lyon!! They were kind enough to proof read this for me!! <3

prompt: “Here, take my blanket/jacket." tags: fluff. It’s so fuckin sweet i felt like i was going to EXPLODE

You rubbed at your arms and blew hot air into your hands, feeling the tips of your fingers go numb at the action that was barely doing anything for you. They weren’t kidding when they said the Highlands were freezing cold.

Blinking over at the man who accompanied you to the cliffs in order to find salt for Professor Laventon, you watched as Ingo marched along with ease. He must’ve been so used to this type of weather… I mean, he did frequent here a lot with Lady Sneasler. And, didn’t he say his hut was here? You wondered what it was like to spend so many days in the cold.

But when the thought came, your mind drifted back to Irida.

“Ingo.” You disturbed the peaceful silence, drawing a hum from the odd man before you. “You know… I’ve always wondered how Irida copes with all this cold! Have you seen what she wears? Super cute… But isn’t she cold?” You picked up the pace, matching his steps and leaning slightly against him in hopes of soaking up his warmth. He felt like a furnace when you pressed against his arm, making him jolt.

“Lady Irida does have an interesting sense of fashion… but I suppose it is what makes her most comfortable. You and I both know she doesn’t cope well in the heat. Perhaps she runs at a higher temperature than we do. The whole clan probably does.” 

You nodded along to his explanation, despite finding it a bit odd. Nonetheless, you took it for what it was.

“Does the cold bother you? It doesn’t seem like it. Perhaps you should also don the same outfit she does!” A laugh sounded from you, causing Ingo to tilt his hat down in mild embarrassment. A part of him adored the sound of you laughing. It was unique in its own way and always left his lips jumping.

A rumble in his chest desperately wanted to sound. Laughing was a challenge nowadays, but at least smiling wasn’t too tough. Akari and Rei had taught him that with each and every battle they had with him. For Giritina's sake, even you got a smile out of him

“I don’t think my figure would fit such an attire, hero-”

“Y/N, Ingo. Just Y/N.” It would always bug you when he would call you ‘Hero.’ You just wanted to live your life normally in Hisui now that you were practically stuck there, but maybe, just maybe, after kicking Arceus’ ass again, you could convince the being who trapped you to let you go back home.; more specifically, to let you and Ingo go back home.

That is, if he even remembered what his home was. He seemed familiar but you could never recall who he was or what he did before Hisui.

“Ah. Yes. Y/N. My apologies.” He tilted his hat at you before readjusting it, allowing the rim to rest above his eyebrows with his hands tucking themselves on his back once more. Ingo was always so polite. “... And besides, I do believe pink isn’t my color.”

“Oh it so is! I’ll have to speak to Anthe about making you your own.” You elbowed him gently, grinning at the typically somber man. “I’ll make sure it’s modest, just for you.”

Now a grin was starting to pull at his own lips, and a huff of a laugh exited his nostrils with the shut of his eyes. “Of course, Y/N.”

And that was that. The conversation ended on a light note and the two of you continued on your merry way, stopping every so often to hit at the pink salt growing on the side of the mountain to toss into your basket. But as the sun slowly began to descend, so did the temperature. You couldn’t help but shudder and chatter your teeth as the hours went by.

Ingo was quick to catch onto this and his hand hovered over your shoulder before it would drop. He felt so awkward around you. Not in a bad way, no. He just wasn’t sure how to exactly act around you. You made him feel a certain way and it made his head hurt when he tried to think about it.

Lost in his thoughts Ingo didn’t even notice how a particularly harsh gust of wind almost blew you away, forcing you to grasp at the collar of your jacket in an effort to stay as warm as possible. Your nose and ears flared bright red, and your eyes watered from how harsh the ice particles were in the breeze. It was when you grabbed his arm for support did he snap himself out of his thoughts, almost leaping into the air when you squeezed his bicep. You stopped walking, gasping for some sort of breath.

The wind was so cold you could hardly breathe. 

“Y/N…?” Ingo supported you by grabbing your forearms, a frown forming on his face. “Arceus, you’re freezing!” With ease, he leaned back and shuffled off his jacket, throwing it over your shoulders and clasping the two buttons before drawing the collar closer to your face. “Here, take my jacket. It’ll keep you warm until we reach my hut.” His face was so close to yours. Your eyes fluttered open and met his own gaze.

The two of you just… stood there. Barely a single breath away from him, the tip of your nose brushed against his own and you leaned forward to hide your cold face in his shoulder. Your cheeks became a newfound red and it wasn’t because of the weather. He felt so firm and stable, and when your hands came to grasp at his tunic you gasped.

“Aren’t you c-cold? I can’t take your jacket!” Leaning up on your tippy toes, you grabbed more of the Warden’s clothing with a gasp. “You’ll get cold and sick, a-and-”

Gentle hands held yours and pulled them close to his face, cupping them in order to blow heated air onto them. You Immediately melted, eyelashes fluttering with a gaze that read heavily of the emotions you felt for him.

“I’ll be just fine, Y/N. Trust me. Now come, let’s get you someplace warmer… preferably with a bowl of stew.”

Keeping your hands in his, he walked ahead of you to shield you from the harsh winds. Along the easy, the two of you had the biggest smiles on your face…

… Even if Ingo was freezing his ass off.

[the-present-is-a-gift-au]

Chapter 26: In Which Darkrai Asks a Question

Twig sent back a note that she had some loose ends to tie up before she could visit Kip, hoping that the note would buy her some time thanks to how she hadn’t specified a day she’d be coming back to Treasure Town. Ark, confusingly, almost elected to stay home when she ran to the post office to deliver it. She told him she was heading out, and he replied with a distracted hum. Confused, she asked if he wanted to come along, and he seemed to snap awake and rushed after her out the door. He watched everyone and everything with a strange look in his eyes as they made their way through Verdant Village— somewhere between sorrowful longing and bitter anger. Whatever it was in his gaze, it wasn’t the awkward, distant sort of cheerfulness she was used to from him. He wasn’t regarding everything with a wide-eyed awe— it was a narrow sort of scrutiny that didn’t fit on Ark’s face. 

Honestly, he seemed a bit ticked in his distractedness. There were moments he was almost irritable— not enough to truly be called irritable, though, because this was Ark she was talking about. He just seemed a bit… short. Maybe a little snippy in how he responded to her questions about if they had enough food to make it to the next weekday market. Not enough to qualify as rude, but he was colder than usual. 

Weird. She could look past it though. She had her moodier days— he probably was just going through one of his own.

She ignored all of that, but she couldn’t look past him asking her that long-dreaded question as she sorted through the groceries she’d grabbed on the way back from the post office, glad to finally be home. “How long were you planning on keeping this up?”

She set down an oran berry she was examining for bruises, confused. “What the heck are you talking about, man?”

“How long did you intend to lie to me?”

“Dude, I’ve never once lied to…” 

Oh. 

She recognized the chilliness to his tone now, the coldness of his gaze. She recognized the way he postured himself and seemed to take all the light out of the room with his presence. 

It all belonged to Darkrai, of course, and fit so poorly on Ark. 

Suddenly a number of things made sense— the fact that he knew Kip had a cowardly streak, the way he spoke as he asked her about joining Team Venture, even the way that he held himself these past weeks— Darkrai remembered. He remembered, and he was mad. Twig had never once seen him upset. Never ruffled, never perturbed— Darkrai was always calm, always cool, always collected, and never the picture of burning cold rage before her.

She should be terrified. Something in her was definitely cowering at the sight of Darkrai so furious before her, but she managed to hold her ground despite the coward in her begging to run. She was tired. Maybe she was ready to die if it meant she could get some rest.

“Your answer?” He demanded.

She tried to come up with some pacifying response to give him, but could only summon the truth. She was tired. It had been a long time of lying to keep people safe. She had already messed everything up. Why not get some stuff off her chest before she kicked the bucket? “I was going to keep it up as long as it took.”

“You fully intended to keep my past hidden from me, tucked tidily away for all of time?” He loomed over her— or more like he tried to, at least. Twig didn’t back down. 

She gave him a weary glare. “Can you blame me?”

A long, tense silence filled the air. It felt like if she reached out a claw, she could pluck it like a string.

“Are you going to kill me?” She asked.

Conflict flashed across his face. 

“Just get it over with already. I’ve been waiting for this to happen. Might as well get it done after all that waiting.”

“I’m not—”

“Not what?” She spat. “Not the type to get your hands dirty? Too bad. If you leave me alive, I’ll tell Kip and Cresselia— everyone— and we’ll be stuck in the same situation we started in. You’ll face off with us in Dark Crater, I’ll end up cursed or whatever that arm thing you did was, and you’ll end up without your memories again or something. I don’t care. Just get it over with.” Tears pricked at her eyes despite her frustration. “I’m tired. I’m done. I blew the shot I had at keeping everyone safe and getting a friend while I was at it. So kill me.”

Again, that conflict flickered across his features. He scowled and seemed to ready himself to deal that mortal blow… but he vanished instead, melted into the shadows. She could sense he was still in the room, judging by the heavy atmosphere that surrounded him remaining, but he was gone without a visible trace.

Twig got the feeling he didn’t want to talk. Too bad.

“You’ve got the perfect opportunity here, man. It’d be kind of stupid to pass it up when I’m literally telling you to get it over with.”

Silence.

“You’d be doing me a favor, you know,” she murmured.

No answer.

“… How long have you remembered?”

The heaviness in the air crescendoed, and then it lifted. He was gone.

Twig wondered why he left without finishing the job.

[dolphin1812]

Reading this chapter makes me wonder if Victor Hugo had a lot of experience not sleeping well, the details he gives are so specific.

“When many varied sensations have agitated the day, when various matters preoccupy the mind, one falls asleep once, but not a second time. Sleep comes more easily than it returns. This is what happened to Jean Valjean. He could not get to sleep again, and he fell to thinking.”

This? Very true. And the way Valjean’s thoughts circle around one idea while remaining very vague? Also accurate.

But for the purposes of this section, I think that Valjean’s sleeplessness adds to the tense atmosphere. On the one hand, Hugo specifies that he’s used to sleeping this little (four hours really isn’t a lot). On the other, we know that he isn’t thinking clearly (not just from getting little sleep - although the fact that he’s used to not sleeping is yet another sign of the inhumane treatment he received - but from stress, hence the focus on his thoughts). I loved the detail about the convict Brevet and his single suspender; it’s such a good way of showing how tumultuous Valjean’s mind is, as there’s no reason for him to be remembering that at the moment. The clocks are also a great detail. Valjean already seems as if he’s ready to pounce at any moment; it’s not surprising that a sound loud enough to snap him out of his thoughts would encourage him to act, as if he were running out of time. And in a way, he is, because he has to decide if he’s going to steal the silver or not before morning. It’s only at night that he has a chance of remaining undiscovered.

Another interesting detail: the moonlight. A full moon makes things both easier and harder for Valjean: easier because he can see what he’s doing and where he’s fleeing, but harder because anyone who wakes will see him, too. Hugo specifically describes the light like this:

“The night was not very dark; there was a full moon, across which coursed large clouds driven by the wind. This created, outdoors, alternate shadow and gleams of light, eclipses, then bright openings of the clouds; and indoors a sort of twilight. This twilight, sufficient to enable a person to see his way, intermittent on account of the clouds, resembled the sort of livid light which falls through an air-hole in a cellar, before which the passers-by come and go.”

The alternating shadows and light resemble Valjean’s inner state; torn between the darkness of a crime (and the “dark confusion” in his mind) and the light of getting through the night peacefully. The ever-changing atmosphere both outside and inside builds tension as well; a night with light that always shifts is more ominous than one that is clearly lit. 

The connection to a cellar is also intriguing. It’s not a blatant reference to prison, but it seems similar to how I would imagine the interior of a cell: poorly lit except for, perhaps, a few openings. Yet in a cellar, “passers-by come and go.” Being in this house is the first time Valjean has had a choice of where to be in 19 years (between prison and being thrown out of villages afterward). As he struggles to make his decision, he’s really choosing multiple things at once: whether to literally stay in the bishop’s house until morning; whether to be a criminal again or not; whether to be driven by his anger or not. 

Since the chapter ends with Valjean leaning towards theft, Hugo had to find a way to make us sad about it after stressing that the robbery committed by Valjean could never equal what the state did to him.

“On arriving at this door, he found it ajar. The Bishop had not closed it.”

He succeeded. The bishop continuing to be welcoming and trusting, even in sleep, is such a nice image, but it’s so heart-wrenching when we know that Valjean is about to break that trust. And not even out of dislike of the bishop, but out of an inability to trust at all because of how much society has hurt him.

[mortifiedatbeingknown]

"The Gentle Giant" (Pt. 7)

Masterpost:

He didn't know what to do with his hands. 

The correct position was, of course, with one hand crossed over the other, tied firmly and securely with strong rope. But if the girl had wanted him to stay like that, she had no reason to set him loose. 

So then, what did she want? 

She had not specified in any particular way, so he could not be doing anything that wrong. Perhaps it did not matter, as long as both hands were visible and in a clearly non-threatening position. He made sure to do so every time she turned back to glance at him, which was often. 

“We’ll be home soon.” She said as she walked. “Sorry, only a few more minutes, OK?” 

His new mistress was a strange one. She had apologized no less than eight times since they had left the mall. Twice was for riding on a bicycle and not bringing the car, three times was for the length of the walk, twice again for the inability to find any clothes that would fit him properly, and once more for…he wasn’t sure. It almost seemed as if she was apologizing for her mere existence. 

He didn’t like it. Yes, she was his owner now, she could say whatever she wanted and he would not offer any resistance, but…why that? Every “sorry” that came from her lips only served to make his insides twist, to set his thoughts roiling when he wanted his mind to be safe and controlled. They were a temptation, sweet and sickening, a desire to reach out every time she offered her condolences. 

No, it is alright. The walk was short, only ten to fifteen minutes. I’ve never needed more clothes than what I’m wearing now. You do not have to apologize for any of this. You are already showing far more kindness than you ever need to to someone like me. 

Those words… they crawled up his throat, pushed against the insides of his cheeks as they begged to be heard. In response, he bit his tongue, hard enough to draw blood. Enough. If Master was not around to enforce discipline, and if his new mistress was not aware of his internal misdeeds, then he would have to control himself. 

Control. It was what he prided himself on the most, his finest skill honed to a sharp edge. Control. It was what stilled his muscles, relaxed his breathing, lengthened his patience. It made him gentle. Made him sweet. Made him approachable, to a world that would have otherwise recoiled in horror. 

Control was what stilled his voice forever. 

The girl glanced back at him again, her eyes wide and concerned behind her smudged glasses. She was nervous, that hadn’t changed, teetering on the edge of instability yet never reaching it. She didn’t say anything this time. Perhaps she’d given up on ever receiving an answer. 

Silence fell as they continued to walk, her up ahead wheeling her bicycle next to her, and him three steps behind, no more, no less. The girl had long since let go of his leash, and the loose rope tickled his legs with each step he walked. 

The thought crossed his mind to use the spare cord to retie his hands together. He bit his tongue again, harder. Another temptation. If she did not want him tied, then he would stay that way. For all he knew, his discomfort was the punishment in itself. 

“We’re almost there.” The girl announced as she stopped at a street corner. When she stared back this time, she held the gaze until the lights flashed green and it was safe to cross. He gazed back, perfectly still, perfectly tranquil. If it was eye contact she wanted, he would give it willingly. Both of his hands were visible and in front of him, in a clear non-threatening position. 

Still, she did not seem completely satisfied. He was still missing something. That was not a surprise; he’d long grown used to being rejected because of that “something” he could never attain. It was part of him now: Tall, large, strong, scary, quiet, sweet, gentle, scarred, incomplete. It was why he was left in the shop, day after day. 

Only, he’d been sold now. He was with a new mistress, one who had spent her hard-earned money on him. She had considered him an investment worth her money. …Right? 

So why did she still look at him like that? 

What was he still missing? 

[rosewritesfanfics]

Human

Sora x nobody!reader

There was ringing in your ears, and your vision blurred before sharpening and making you hyper aware of your surroundings. Things seemed like they were going in slow motion as you watched the blade go through your abdomen. Riku- no, not Riku, he would never do this. The creep who had possessed your friend laughed. You didn't know if Riku was aware of what was happening, and you honestly hoped he wasn't. He'd never forgive himself. The last thing you saw before you lost consciousness was Sora's horrified face as he banged his fists against the invisible barrier that prevented him from reaching you. You may have been scared, but stronger than that you felt hope. You knew Sora would succeed without you, he's stronger than anyone ever gave him credit for. With that last thought, you blacked out.

_________________________________________

You hated those stupid memories. You hated those stupid feelings that you can remember but never have more than a glimpse of. You hated the boy who let this happen to you it's not his fault, you loved him

Well, that wasn't entirely true. You didn't really hate him. In fact, you didn't feel anything for him or anyone else you missed him

He didn't recognize you with the hood you wore covering your face. Whatever, it didn't matter it hurt

The only reason you looked out for him is because you knew that he didn't stand a chance. The organization would have torn him apart if you hadn't agreed to help. He had lost all his previous abilities, and had to relearn everything. He should consider himself lucky you were willing to work with him.

Despite that, the two of you were constantly at odds. You couldn't understand his compassion for others. He couldn't understand how you could be cruel to others and still fight for the light. It led you to yet another training-session-turned-argument.

"I still don't understand, why are you helping us? How do we know your not a spy for the organization?" He asked. Sora knew you were a nobody, so why did you act like you cared? Why did you help him train? Why have you protected him and helped him with his quest?

"If I was with them, would I be helping you?" You asked in response to his question, he was seriously getting on your nerves. "This coat is used to shield me from darkness, it's not just the organization that wears this."

"Sorry if I have a difficult time trusting you, I've only had an entire group of people with that outfit trying to kill me this whole journey." He snarked back.

"I used to have a life before this you know, like all nobodies. I'm lucky enough to remember mine, and those memories show me that whatever this organization is planning needs to be stopped." You explained. Of course, that wasn't the real reason, but you would never admit that.

"Then why won't you show your face?" Sora asked. "If we're really on the same side, then me seeing your face shouldn't matter."

You know what. Fine. It wasn't your problem if what he saw hurt him.

You pulled down your hood and whatever he was going to say next got caught in his throat.

You looked slightly older, like he did, but it was still definitely you. You were gone, he'd mourned you, he'd watched you die. But there you stood right in front of him, only it wasn't really you. This was only a shell of who his old friend used to be. The universe wouldn't even let you pass peacefully, instead giving you a fate some would consider worse than death. Once the shock subsided, he realized he'd started crying. It felt like he'd been frozen, unable to wipe the tears away

You had expected shock, and maybe even a sad look, but Sora was crying. He had finally stepped closer to you, like he wanted to do or say something, but he looked unsure. It was honestly pathetic-

Your train of thought gets cut off by something sharp going through your chest. It wasn't physical pain, but instead a split second of a feeling. You no longer had the ability to specify which one, but you knew you had felt something.

That split second of feeling compelled you to pull Sora closer, and then the two of you were hugging. There was only silence for a while as you let him process what he'd learned.

"I lied. I didn't tell you the real reason I'm helping you." You start, Sora looked up at you, no longer crying but still oddly quiet. "When I'm around you, sometimes I get brief moments of feeling something. I know I'm a nobody, and it should be impossible, but maybe there is a way to get my heart back. Maybe you're the key."

You both stay there just holding each other for a while, until Donald and Goofy became worried enough about Sora to look for you. When you hear them approach, you quickly pull your hood back up to cover your face. Sora frowns, but doesn't object. It's up to you to decide when you tell them, if you ever tell them at all.

Goofy and Donald were suspicious of you once they saw Sora's tear stained cheeks, but he assured them everything was fine. You didn't bother listening to the stupid excuse he came up with, but at least the two animals didn't press for anymore details. You walked back towards the campsite with the rest of them, the sun having set already (how much time did you spend just hugging him?). You don't really need to sleep, so you'd keep watch tonight like you always did. Sora pauses before he enters his tent (the one you used to share with him). He knew you didn't physically need to sleep, but you had looked so tired.

"I can keep watch tonight, if you want to rest." Sora spoke softly, trying to avoid waking Donald and Goofy.

"It's fine, I don't need to-" you began, but Sora quickly interrupted you

"I know, I know, you don't need sleep. But that doesn't mean it's not nice to have once in a while." Even if Sora was exhausted from all the crying, he felt enough energy to keep watch for a while. You didn't look convinced. "I promise I'll wake you up in a few minutes if that's what you want, but please sleep." He was almost begging at this point.

"Fifteen minutes, no more than that." You finally gave in. "You better wake me up before that if you feel too tired."

"I will, I promise." He smiled as he replied, and you felt another small jolt of emotion, only this time it lingered. You weren't sure what it was specifically, but you began to tear up from how overwhelming it felt. Sora looked at you with concern.

"I'm ok, this is just the longest I've felt anything since I became a nobody." You explained. His confused face changed into another smile. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer while you sat by the campfire. You felt yourself begin to drift off once the feeling finally faded.

Not too long after, Sora fell asleep as well. He hadn't meant to, but the emotional exhaustion finally took it's toll. Luckily being a nobody apparently effects how long you sleep too, because when you woke up it was still dark. You'd tease him about it in the morning, but you weren't irritated. He was right, sleeping was nice.

"Thank you." You whispered, still leaning into him. It was the most human you had felt in a long time.

[kuriboo]

Bacon Saver chapter 10 is out!!

Pharaoh is home from staying at Yusaku’s place! Pharaoh and Jaden have a discussion.

Link to ao3 will be in the notes

⁂

Chazz was not impressed when he saw Jaden at the front door, Pharaoh purring happily in Jaden’s arms.

“I was hoping you got rid of that thief for good.” Chazz sniffed.

“Aw, I could never! The two of you just needed time apart, I know you can make up.” Jaden smirked. “Besides, I know you love him. You’d be devastated if I got rid of him forever.”

No, abandoning Pharaoh wasn’t in the cards, for several reasons. Jaden could get away with pushing him onto Yusaku for a few days, sure, but permanently? That was pushing it way too far. Then, there was Professor Banner. If their old teacher wasn’t going to pass into the afterlife, better he stayed with them, where he had people he could interact with. Jaden would miss Banner too much anyway.

Not least of which, though, was that Pharaoh was a very good cat. Jaden loved him. He couldn’t bare to part with the little guy.

Chazz rolled his eyes. “Ew. No way. I’d be glad to see him gone.” He turned away. “Just keep him out of my snacks.”

That, of course, was just Chazz speak. Chazz loved Pharaoh and everyone knew it. Chazz was just also very protective of his food.

He did help Jaden bring in all of Pharaoh’s things, though. Toys, food, litter box, scratching post, so many things for just one cat. And while they got all of Pharaoh’s things where they belonged, Pharaoh settled himself in a window so he could look outside.

Chazz rolled his eyes when he saw where Pharaoh was. “What a freeloader,” he mumbled, though it was full of Chazz affection.

Jaden laughed. "He's just loved lots."

Soon enough, everything was back in its place. And once it all was, Jaden plopped himself on the floor next to the window Pharaoh was in. He reached up to scratch Pharaoh under the chin.

"How was your trip out, buddy?" Jaden smiled up at the cat. "Did you make a new friend?"

Pharaoh yawned, and a ball of light flew out of his mouth. Seconds later, Professor Banner was sitting next to Jaden. "I think we made a new friend. It was interesting, to say the least."

“Interesting, huh?” Jaden hummed. “So you learned something.”

Okay, it wasn’t like Jaden lied to anyone. Chazz and Pharaoh truly did have a falling out, and Chazz truly did need time away from Pharaoh. Chazz hadn’t exactly given Jaden a choice in the matter by shoving Pharaoh out of the apartment. Those were all true things!

That didn’t mean it wasn’t an opportunity he couldn’t take advantage of.

…That sounded really malicious. He wasn’t trying to take advantage of anyone. It was just a chance for him to learn more about his buddy! It wasn’t like Professor Banner was going to learn anything Jaden couldn’t learn from, like, a sleepover. He was just speedrunning friendship a little. Was it a crime to be curious?

“Well, it was mostly quiet. Yusaku lives alone. But he spent a lot of time on his phone. And I know he was talking to someone, because I heard them speak about how suspicious Pharaoh is. Which is quite rude if you ask me—“

Pharaoh chose that moment to lean down and eat the ball of light again, making Professor Banner disappear.

That wasn’t exactly an extensive report, but when it came to Professor Banner, one had to take what they could get. Jaden thought about what he was just told.

Jaden hadn’t messaged Yusaku while Pharaoh was away. He didn’t receive any messages from Yusaku, either. Surely Professor Banner was familiar enough with Cal’s voice to recognize his voice, but Professor Banner didn’t specify who had spoken. Because he didn’t have the time to say, or because he didn’t recognize the voice? But if the latter was true…

Jaden tapped a fist against his palm. “Yusaku does have a friend besides me and Cal. And if I can figure out who it is…”

He’d be one step closer to the mystery that was Yusaku.

Yusaku was indeed a mystery. He was a loner, stuck to himself, other than Jaden and Cal. And Shima, but Shima wasn’t the type of person to call a cat suspicious for no reason. Yusaku didn’t seem to particularly like Shima’s company anyway, so why would he talk to him on the phone? Surely it was someone else.

“Need I remind you of how hypocritical you’re being?”

Jaden blinked and stared blankly up at Chazz.

“You’re mysterious enough with your own mysterious past. But I don’t see you opening up to him about it.”

“There’s no reason to.” Jaden crossed his arms. “I don’t need to use my powers around him. And I’m not going to go around to random high schoolers announcing my bloodstained past.”

“And there’s no reason for him to open up to you,” Chazz countered. “Not everyone has to like dueling. He doesn’t have to tell you why.”

“He had a panic attack in front of his classmates and disappeared for days afterwards. I’m a responsible adult in his life, I want to make sure I don’t trigger something like that happening again.”

“Responsible.” Chazz rolled his eyes. “Have you considered just asking?”

“Yeah, let’s remind him of his public panic attack and possibly trigger another one. Seems smart.”

“Ladies, ladies, calm down. You’re both pretty.”

Chazz and Jaden both turned to look at the newcomer to their conversation. Jesse flashed them a winning smile.

“Y’all both got good points. Makes sense that you wanna make sure the kid is safe, Jay. But Chazz is right. It is a little hypocritical.” Jesse put a hand on his hip. “If you really wanna go down this route, you gotta be willing to open up, too.”

Jaden brought his knees up to his chest.

“I know what you’re thinking, Jay. You’re worried what he’ll think of you. But you told the kids, remember? They don’t think any less of ya. Everything’s okay.”

Jesse kneeled down and put a hand on Jaden’s shoulder.

Jaden frowned.

He had a lot to think about.

⁂

The monitors blared with a duel replay: a duel between Blue Angel and Supreme Zarc.

Jaden took a sip of hot cocoa. Blue Angel was running for an Action Card, but Supreme Zarc got to it first. His attack went through, bringing Blue Angel down to 3000 LP.

A couple of chairs away, Yusaku was typing away at his keyboard. A history assignment, he’d told Jaden. Jaden and Cal were both all for Yusaku doing his homework, so they’d left him to it.

Supreme Zarc activated the effect of Wonder Balloons, sending the Action Card he’d just picked up to the graveyard.

Jaden took a bite of his hot dog. “What history are you writing about?” he asked with his mouth full.

Yusaku frowned. “River valley civilizations. I’m taking a world history class.”

“Huh. Neat.”

Truthfully, Jaden wasn’t all that interested in river valley civilizations. But his high school experience was…very different from Yusaku’s. It was interesting to see what the differences were.

Not that Yusaku gave much of an answer. Better than no answer, at least.

Kids Yusaku’s age should have lots of friends their own age. Study together, hang out together, that sort of thing. But Yusaku was alone, and he really wasn’t trying to make friends. Honestly, it seemed like he was trying not to make friends.

…Chazz had been right, before. Yusaku did remind Jaden of his last year of high school, didn’t he? Pushing people away, not turning in homework..

…trauma related to dueling.

Just because Jaden didn’t know what that trauma was didn’t mean it didn’t exist. Yusaku had a panic attack in the middle of a duel, and that wasn’t over nothing.

Supreme Zarc jumped on Odd-Eyes Pendulum Dragon’s back and ended his turn.

And Jaden wanted to know because he wanted to help. He didn’t want to needlessly drudge up Yusaku’s past, he wanted to help him with it. Give Yusaku the support he’d refused when he was in his shoes.

But was he willing to be as vulnerable with Yusaku as he wanted Yusaku to be with him?

Jaden stared into his hot cocoa.

He didn’t know the answer.

[kiwizuku]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ pairing ;; established! izuocha x fem! afab! reader

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ content warnings ;; smut, pro hero au, quirkless! kindergarden teacher! au, polyamory, established relationships, age difference, (slight) power imbalance, hero worship, degradation, sir/ma'am, milf! ochako, dilf! izuku, dom! izuocha, very submissive reader, threesome, oral (f!receiving)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ notes ;; i've never really seen izuocha x reader and this just came into my head. please leave a comment, reblog or follow if you enjoy! <3

THANK YOU FOR 100+ FOLLOWERS!!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.

"Bye!" You call out to the couple, the child next to them turning and giving you a hug as you kneel. "I'll see you tomorrow," you whisper in the kid's ear, the young girl giving a small giggle and nod in response before running up to take her father's hand.

As the door closes behind them, you jump back up into a standing position.

Exhaling deeply, you go to sit at your desk. Checking the time table once, twice -- and with a sigh, you relax into your seat further.

One more interview. It's just past nine, so it's fairly late for a school night, but it made sense to fit everyone in on the same night. You only has just over twenty kids to deal with, anyways.

Looking around the room, everything feels... different in the darkened light. Of course you have the overhead lights on, the orange hue almost nostalgia in the way it reminds you of staying up too late in the living room, your parents watching late night tv.

The walls are decorated with educational posters -- the pretty kind, not the bubbly lettered eyesores -- and artwork the kids have made.

It feels... homely. It's a shared space, so clearly appreciated and loved by you and your kids. Even though you're just in your mid-twenties, you've quickly become accustomed to your new job. You loved it, almost as much as you loved the kids you taught.

...Especially the one you would be seeing in about five minutes.

Aiko Midoriya was a ball of energy. She was always more than happy to help clean up, brighten fellow students' days, and was mature enough to hold a proper conversation with you.

Incredibly intelligent, you always gave her extra work to keep her busy.

Which gave you some reason to be so excited to meet her parents. She had mentioned that she loved them, wished to be like them, but had never specified what they did or even what they looked like.

A knock on the classroom door breaks you from your thoughts, making you scramble out of your seat and rush to the door, straightening yourself up ever so slightly before opening the door with a wide smile.

"Hi! I'm Miss. L/N, it's great--"

You choke, only after having started your spiel realising who exactly was standing in front of you.

Number One and Four heroes Deku and Uravity.

Placing a hand over your mouth, you try to ignore the heat in your cheeks. God. You were not expecting your teenage wet-dreams to be the parents interviewing you. Shit. Fuck. Every curse you never said because you worked with children flooded your mind.

"Sorry," you chuckle nervously, looking away from them bashfully. "This is quite unprofessional of me, I just wasn't expecting you two to be at my door this evening!"

"It's okay!" Uravity's sweet yet mature voice responds, and as you meet her eyes, she gives you a kind smile. "We're used to it, don't worry!"

She's breathlessly attractive as she speaks. Adorning her signature bob, her white silk top seems so elegant paired with her long black skirt. Fancy.

Your gaze flickers to Deku, then. His hair has grown out, the tips reaching just below his ears in a roguishly attractive way.

Were they your sexual awakening?

Maybe.

But that didn't mean anything, and it certainly didn't mean that you were going to treat them as anything but the parents of a student.

"Thank you," you bow slightly, before giving them a softer smile and leading them to your desk. They take a seat on the soft couch in front of you.

Folding your hands in front of you, you give them both an earnest look.

"Look. I'm going to cut right to the chase." The heroes share a look, one of worry, before looking back to you. God, the lights shone on their features so nicely.

You realise, then, with a halt, that there is no Aiko.

"Um," you falter, embarrassingly looking around the room for the girl. "Where is Aiko...?"

Deku huffs a laugh under his breath. "Sorry, Miss L/N. We forgot to mention that she was with her grandmother -- we'd rather talk to you without Aiko here, if that's okay."

His voice is gentle but rough, and it sends shivers down your spine. With a slight nod, you shake your head and try to get back on track.

"Ah. Right. Well, knowing that Aiko isn't here, I'm going to be extremely honest." You pause. "This is my first class, ever, and Aiko has been nothing but an angel. She's helped me with the students, and her personality is nothing short of integrity and respect. You both should be so proud of her; I most certainly am."

There's silence.

Maybe you shouldn't have been so quick to express your fondness for Aiko, but it had been done now.

You watch as Uravity and Deku share a conversation with their eyes alone. Memories flood back -- when you were in kindergarten, watching the sports festival and seeing them fighting so well.

Having been taken to them instantly, you grew up admiring and idolising the two.

And when they had announced their marriage, when you had been in high school? You were over the moon.

But...

But, you had never really imagined you'd meet them in real life. This felt like a personally hand-wrapped gift from Heaven.

Uravity clears her throat. You try to ignore how she's holding Deku's hand in her lap intimately. "Well, Miss. L/N, as parents, we're so happy that you have such good opinions on our daughter."

She gives Deku a look, before snapping her hazel eyes back to yours. "As for you, we've never seen Aiko happier. Every night at the dinner table she's ranting about how much she loves her class, and most importantly, you."

You blink.

"Really, for a first time teacher, you've completely mesmerised our child," Deku continues for Uravity. "And we are beyond grateful for your role in Aiko's life."

Silence fills the emptiness after his words end.

You can feel tears in the back of your eyes. To hear such kind and heartfelt words from your idols -- about your passion, your career -- it seems like too much all at once.

"I--" you swallow, looking down at your hands shyly as you rub at them, "I really don't know what to say. Thank you. You wo have made such a large impact on my life. To hear that from Uravity and Deku--"

Uravity interrupts. "Midoriya. I think we'd prefer that."

Your cheeks heat. "Ah, Mr. Midoriya and Mrs Midoriya. Sorry." The names come out stilted, odd -- it would take some getting used to.

"Don't apologise," Mr. Midoriya says softly, and you're quick to reply on reflex.

"Sorry."

The three of you chuckle, and it isn't awkward. It feels oddly natural, and you're not quite sure how to feel about it.

"I love how you've decorated the room," Mrs. Midoriya comments off-handedly. Her eyes trail over the art and posters around the room, as well as the cushions and overall comfi-ness. The corners are darker, the light mainly decorating your desk and the entry way.

It's nice.

"Thank you," you say softly, looking away with a bit of heat in your cheeks. As you look away, at the papers on your desk, you don't notice the tense look the couple share.

Mr. Midoriya clears his throat, directing your attention back to him. He smiles. "We just had a few more questions, Miss. L/N."

You nod, getting more comfortable in your chair. If you were to guess, you were already five minutes over time. But... with it being the last session, a bit longer couldn't hurt.

Across from you, Mrs. Midoriya crosses one leg over the other. You try not to look at the rise of her skirt, and how it brushes over the middle of her thigh.

"How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?"

Raising a brow at the question, you can feel your palms grow a bit clammy. "Um. Twenty-three."

You knew that they were in their mid-thirties. Maybe that was part of the pull, the draw.

Mr. Midoriya's gaze burns as it trails your body. Emerald meets yours.

"For your age, you're certainly a memorable teacher. I can't wait to see what... experience does for you." And oh, god, it shouldn't have felt so dirty as it did coming from those lips. Fucking hell, you feel shame burn white-hot through your veins with the first twitch of your core.

You gulp.

"Ah, th -- thank you, Mr. Midoriya." You don't mean to stutter, but the tension feels as though it's increased tenfold.

Mrs. Midoriya's gaze falls to your lips. And you can tell, and that's the worst part -- were you just imagining it? Were you really? Because surely --

She sighs, low and drawn out. You track the slide of her tongue against her plump lower lip.

"Do you know..." she pauses, looking back to your eyes with a raised brow, "What people in a lower position call their superiors?"

Your mouth feels dry. Your lower regions feel very much the opposite.

"I, uhm, usually Mr. or Ms. whatever? Would you," you play with the rings adorning your fingers, looking at the reasonably healthy potted plant on your desk. "Would you prefer something else?"

"Sir," Mr. Midoriya says instantly. You blink.

"S -- Sir?" You choke, eyes wide and shocked. Your hands clench at the side of the desk.

He tilts his head. His legs are spread, and he leans further forward, arm resting on the expanse of those thighs. "Sir."

Beside him, Mrs. Midoriya hums, placing a well-manicured hand at the scruff of his head. She gives you a knowing, and very pleased look, as she lets the tile fall off of her tongue. "Ma'am."

"I -- I'm not sure if that's appropriate for our current relationship--" you start, before being cut off by Mr. Midoriya.

"Like you have been thinking of appropriate things during this meeting. Did you think we were blind? We've noticed you drooling all over us since you opened the door, pet."

Your breath hitches, and this all suddenly feels a bit too much like a dream.

Blinking, your hands anxiously playing with each other, you stand out of your seat lightning quick. The couple both flinch, slightly, at the sudden movement.

"It's well past the finish time of our meeting, and while this still feels like one of the best moments of my life, I really don't think this is okay."

The words tumble out of your mouth, and as you walk to the door, you don't notice a pair of footsteps close behind you.

As you go to open the door, a pretty, but extremely strong hand slams it shut again. The air around you suspiciously smells like floral, fruity perfume.

"Do you really want us to leave, pretty?" And it's her -- her voice is like heaven, so sweet and subtle while promising so many things at once.

You let out a small whimper, turning around softly to meet her hazel eyes.

Her thigh instantly manoeuvres its way between your legs, shoving you fully against the wall. You accidentally moan behind your lips, eyes shutting tight in the sudden jolt of ecstasy.

"If you don't want to do this, sweetheart, then you don't have to. We won't force you." And now it's his voice, deep but kind and hot and so goddamn attractive you melt further into the door. You shake your head lightly.

"No?" Uravity asks, her lips now brushing your ear. Shivers roll down your spine. "No, you don't want to? You have to be more vocal, dear."

You squirm against her thigh, and then a scarred hand is quick to grab both of your wrists and pull them above your head. "Answer her. Use that pretty head of yours, we know it's smart."

Pondering the statement, stuck between a mix of cloudiness and clarity, you mutter those key words. "Please. I... want to."

"That's a good girl," Uravity's voice whispers, and your core tightens up further.

"Mrs. Mido--"

You're cut off by another hand reaching to grab a handful of your hair, then pulling with no warning. At that same moment, the thigh between your legs jolts up, and you nearly cum on the spot.

"What were you about to call me?"

You choke on some spit, eyes watering at the sudden pressure on your scalp. "M-Ma'am," you acquiesce in exasperation. "Ma'am."

Ma'am tuts, and the fist in your hair loosens its grip. "That's better. You're too precious -- so eager to please."

Her thigh is so hot, and it's almost embarrassing -- you're certain that she can feel you leaking through your panties.

Sir, moving his large hand tantalizingly slow, reaches for the hem of your skirt and pulls it up. He snorts, patronizingly, before gazing at you with lust-filled eyes and a mean smirk.

"What's this?" His other hand, now letting go of your wrists, draws a line through the fabric. All thoughts leave your mind as it trails along your slit. "Is our baby girl excited?"

You can't control the movement of your hips, chasing for more friction on both the thigh and finger at your core.

Ma'am tilts her head, bumping her thigh up even further with a sinfully sweet smirk.

"Certainly looks like it. How long d'you think she's been dreaming of this?"

You choke back a moan, eyes rolling into the back of your head as Deku's fingers reached your clit, rubbing harshly against the nub. It was too fucking good, all at once.

"Ah! Fuck! Please don't stop!" You whined, tears properly flowing down your cheeks at the stimulation.

Just as you were on the cliff edge, so fucking close to falling, the pressure from both the thigh and hand is taken away. It's like a bucket of ice cold water being dumped on you.

Without Uravity's thigh to support your weight, nor the strength in your weak knees, you slump to the floor pathetically.

Sir's hand pats at your head as you lay at their feet, kneeling down to massage your scalp.

It's simultaneously heaven and hell.

Heaven, because it feels so good compared to the harsh pulling from before.

Hell, because it feels so patronising and... domineering.

"Babe," you hear Deku murmur, pulling Uravity around to whisper in her ear. Her eyes grow even more lidded, haziness taking over further.

She whispers back an affirmative, before sinking to the floor beside you.

Her glossed lips press a kiss against your tear-stained cheek, and by her slight wince, you think that she got a taste of some of your eyeliner that had leaked.

"Hands and knees, pretty," she says against your ear, just brushing it, and sending shivers down your spine.

Moving around, you shuffle so that your ass was in the air, your elbows and knees supporting your body. It was extremely embarrassing, but something about it only heightened your arousal.

Deku hums, placing a warm hand against your clothed ass-cheek. "That's a good girl. Here's what we're gonna do. You have to eat 'Chako out, and whenever you stop..."

He grips your panties, before using his pure strength to rip them in half. He revels in your muffled squeak of surprise.

"I will too."

That's the only warning you get before you feel a tongue at your core, relentless and sloppy as he immediately targets your clit.

Uravity moves so that she sits in front of you, panties off as she pulls you closer to her by the scruff of your neck. You groan, before looking up at her with teary eyes and giving a small, unsure lick.

She sighs, clearly pleased, before shuffling closer.

You slowly grow braver with your licks -- broader stripes, sometimes going into her twitching hole.

All the while, the vibrations from your constant moaning and whimpers cause Uravity to grab at your hair and pull harder. It was something you all seemed like you thoroughly enjoyed.

Deku, all the while, had brought his fingers in to play, switching between thrusting uncaringly with them, to playing with your clit while he licked at your folds.

At this point, after your previous denial, you were so close.

Without thinking, you pull away from Uravity's cunt in tears, whining petulantly.

"Please, please, please don't stop -- 'm so close -- right there, thank you --"

And on the brink, Deku moves away again.

It feels like the world is fuzzy around you, turned in on itself as you tried to fathom why Sir would do such a thing.

His hand grips your ass painfully, although it was nice knowing that you'd have a bruise to remind yourself that it wasn't just another hyper-realistic dream.

"What did I say?" His voice is cold, commanding -- the kind he'd use against a villain. It only proves to drive you more insane.

"No, no, no, why would you do that, why--" Your sobs are mere music to the couple's ears, who share a look -- you'd have your next one, and then you'd all need to clean up, and even more importantly, talk.

"What did he say? We won't ask again, pet." It's Uravity who speaks this time, and her voice is like Deku's in that way of dehumanizing.

"I- If I stop," you hiccup, "He stops."

"Good. So keep going if you want that pleasure, mk, gorgeous?" Deku soothes, his grip no longer tight as he rubs at the mark left behind. When he sees you nod, with a malicious grin, he dives back in, no holds barred.

You immediately go back to Uravity, whose thighs are now tightened around your head. It makes you dizzy, but you continue anyway, the pleasure far too great to pay attention.

Everything builds up much more quickly, now, and you reach your climax embarrassingly quick.

A constant litany of words escape your lips as you feel Uravity's moans get higher and higher, her thighs tightening and her grip on your hair, too.

"Yes, yes, yes!" She squeaks out, fully humping your face now. "Good girl, so good, so close -- there!"

You feel her orgasm at the same time you do, and it almost feels like your sense of time completely goes away.

It's as if you're fading away at the edges, pure bliss like cotton in your head.

When you come to, you find yourself against a warm, cushiony chest.

Opening your eyes, you meet soft brown ones. Uravity smiles down at you, stroking a hand through your hair. "Hey, sweetheart. You feeling better?"

You nod, nuzzling further into her collarbone. It's that or facing the harsh realities and repercussions of what had just happened.

"'Zuku's cleaning up. To be honest, I hadn't expected an interview with my child's teacher to end in me fucking her in a classroom."

You feel heat in your cheeks at the wording.

Moving so you can see around you, albeit with bleary eyes, you catch onto Deku. He chucks some wipes into the bin, before catching your gaze and smiling at you softly.

"Hey, beautiful," he says, walking back over and sitting next to the two of you.

"...Hey," you say slowly, nervousness creeping into your veins. Post nut clarity was frightening, you were learning.

You all share a sigh.

"We need to talk," Uravity says, and you know that you do. Because of course you had to -- this was a big deal.

With a nervous, but wobbly smile, you nod.

"Yeah. We do."

[multifandoms27-blog]

:0 Your hcs for ling give me life! There's basically nothing out there for him.

Could I request ling yao x reader where the reader has insomnia but is able to sleep easily around Ling. (Bonus if you add in reader being a sleep hugger lol)

OMG OMG YES YES YES I RELATE SO MUCH <33 INSOMNIA GANG RISE UP and awww thank you, anon!!!!

~*~*~*

Content: Gender neutral reader, since anon never specified. Although I refer to reader in the second person anyway, so y'all good :3

Warnings: Uhhh nothing

Notes: Forgive me for all the off-track domestic rambles I went on, I just got back from a long weekend at my boyfriend's place and him and his family are giving me all the love I missed out on as a kid. I love all of them and would do anything to protect them <3

~*~*~*

MMMM insomniacs rise up (me, lol)

Ling from the very beginning of your relationship (and even before tbh) that you'd be up all hours of the night for days on end sometimes

He did worry, but the only response you'd give him was "insomnia"

This man doesn't know boundaries, so he's gonna pry into why you have insomnia

If you tell him its some like, psychological or trauma-induced reason, he wont go further unless you tell him or invite him to ask questions

However, if it's genetic, there's really not much else he can pry about lol

Ling has a bad habit of getting you little plushies and piling them up on your bed, making you send pictures of the plushie collection he's gotten you so he can gush over how cute they are

The first time he comes over, the man bursts into your bedroom (ofc) and with his arms open, yells, "Plush-babies! Daddy's home!"

Speaking of the first time he came over, that was actually the best sleep you had ever gotten

You both were watching a movie, Ling had passed out an hour ago and you were left to your own devices as you laid on his chest

Eventually, your eyelids became heavy and you were knocked out for wayyy more hours than you usually are

You woke up to Ling moving around and the smell of (lunch food) cooking in the air

Ling snickered and kissed you on the cheek. "You slept like a little baby. You even drooled on me a little, see?"

And of course, the darker patch on his shirt was prevalent. You blushed in embarassment "Ling, I- I'm so sorry, I-"

"No, no hun! That just means you slept real good last night."

Ling then spent many, many nights at your house after that

Ling loves coming over after work, showering, then either you or him making dinner, then settling down to bed, having light pillow talk then falling asleep

Ling's never had trouble sleeping; we all know he's the classic "bottomless pit" anime character, and those characters always sleep soundly (and snore loudly) so he'll always fall asleep before you

Your little plush babies will be pushed against the wall, Ling's back or side to them, you either pressed into his chest or his side with his arm over you no matter what

The more you sleep with him (SFW UNDERTONES-) the more sleep habits you develop

One that Ling notices the most, is waking up to you clinging to him for dear life

He's usually awake before you, so he snaps a couple pictures of you sleeping on him, or next to him, while making a funny face if he is in the shot

He'll even tease you about it at the worst times

"I'm gonna get a drink," Ling stands from Ed's couch, then crouches in front of (Y/n). "Come on."

"...Ling, what are you doing?"

"I just figured you'd wanna cling to me? You seem tired."

"Ling-" You blush.

"What?" He grins innocently. "You seem to want to cling to me when we sleep together, so I just figured-"

"LING!"

Ling totally sends those pictures of you to Lan Fan btw (THEY'RE BESTIES OKAY)

Lan Fan knows every bit of your relationship (except for like, the more intimate parts if you know what I mean) and whenever he comes home from your place, she's already got the snacks propped up and goes "Well???" and they squeal as he gushes about you it's so cute lol <3

Ling once woke from a nightmare, in which he relived Fu dying once more, and he could feel your arms tighten even more around him as he jolted awake

He looked down, thinking you were awake, but was grateful that he found you sound asleep against him

He put his hand in your hair and kissed your forehead before snuggling further into your grip and falling asleep once more

Even his parents love you

When he brought you to his home and introduced you to his father, mother, and 49 other step-mothers and all of their children, you figured all the noise would keep you awake all night

Normally, this was usual for you, but you were once again with Ling

When his father walked into your guest bedroom, he was surprised to see Ling next to you, three of your favorite plushies around you two as you sleep soundly in Ling's side. Ling looked up, motioned for his father to keep quiet, and waved hello

Let's say, even the King of Xing thought your tight grip on his son was cute

[arvinsescape]

Subspace.

A/N: This has been in my drafts for aaaaaggggeees, I actually forgot I’d written it 🤣, another different sort of writing and I hope you all enjoy (Please remember this is a work of fiction)! 💕💕

Summary: The first time Tom realises his girlfriend is stuck in subspace.

Warnings: Mentions of sex (Minors do not engage), talks of a dom! x sub! relationship, swearing, mentions of an injury.

Something is wrong with you and Tom can’t put his finger on it. You’re not yourself and haven’t been since last night. You seem almost out of it, as if you’re here but at the same time not.

“Shit.” You muttered out as you caught your foot on the edge of the couch and fell onto your knees. This is what Tom is talking about, you’re not usually this clumsy but this morning? You’ve had his heart hammering in his chest more times this morning than you have in the last year of dating.

“Darling, are you okay?” Tom asked as he helped you to your feet, a complete look of concern in his eyes.

“Yeah, just lost my footing.” You smiled as you flopped onto the couch. “Think my legs are still recovering.” You huffed out through a laugh.

“Are you sure? You’re a lot clumsier than normal.” Tom was concerned now, it was growing inside his stomach and he couldn’t shift it, he just couldn’t put his finger on what was going on with you.

“Like I say, I think my legs are still a bit shaky from last night.” You shrugged as you trained your eyes onto the TV.

You’d had an intense session last night, you’d had multiple orgasms and both of you had had earth shattering ones to finish off, the kind that knocked him out almost completely, how tired he was washing over him in an instant. It had been one of your more intense sessions in fourteen month relationship, although you had a dom, sub relationship it was never too out there. Orgasm denials, multiple orgasms, light choking, him tying you up were as far as you’d ventured so far.

**

Tom only grew more concerned as the day went on, especially when he walked through to the living room at 1pm and found you still on the couch. You were in the same position he’d left you in almost two hours ago.

“Darling,” Tom asked and you mindlessly hummed in response. “You’re meeting your friend in twenty minutes.” He pointed out and he watched as you picked your phone up and checked the time, panicking as you saw it.

“Shit, shit, shit. Lost track of time.” You said as you shot past him and upstairs. Of course Tom understood that anyone could lose track of time, it just happened. But you? No, you were the most organised and punctual person he knew, if you said you would be somewhere, you’d turn up ten minutes early, you didn’t do late.

You quickly rushed out a ‘love you’ with a quick kiss to his cheek as you practically ran out of the door. Tom found himself thanking the Gods that you weren’t driving with how you’d been this morning.

**

You came back a few hours later, rushing into the living room and practically throwing yourself at him. You were cold from the winter air and it made Tom shiver slightly at the sudden temperature change he was experiencing.

“You okay?” He asked as his hand came to the back of your head, your face stuffed into his chest.

“I missed you.” You sniffled and Tom was taken aback, this was normal when he’d spent weeks away from you, but hours? You were a pretty independent person, although you and Tom were extremely close, you were by no means completely attached at the hip.

“I missed you too.” Tom comforted as he squeezed you, you pulled yourself closer, making him shift so you could straddle him. Clinging to him as if he’d disappear, although you were a cuddly person by nature you were usually happy just cuddled into his side as you watched TV. 

“You did?” You asked as you pulled back to look at him, excitement in your eyes, almost like a child. Tom furrowed his brows, this was unusual, like he says, you’re an independent person, you were acting like you needed him to say it, needed him to reassure you.

Of course, there had been times where you had needed that from him, when the media or the fans had been pretty hard on you but as far as he was aware that wasn’t the case right now.

“Of course I did.” Tom reassured as he ran his thumb over your cheek and you leant into the minor touch, making Tom take your face in his hand. You seemed to be craving his touch, it seemed to be something you needed he observed over the next hour.

You stayed in his lap, whining when he stopped running his hand over your back or through your hair. Nuzzling so far into him that he was sure you were trying to get inside him, when he got up to go into the kitchen you’d trail behind him like a lost puppy. All of your behaviours making Tom grow more and more concerned over you.

In the last few hours you’d seemingly lost coordination of your body, lost track of time and now you were almost emotionally and physically needy. Not that Tom would ever call you needy, or mean it in a bad way, he just didn’t know how else to describe how you were being.

**

The last straw came when you were making a brew for the two of you, after spending all day seemingly trying to make him happy, needing confirmation from him that your actions were indeed making him so.

“Did I put enough milk in your tea?”

“Yeah,” Tom furrowed his brows, “why?”

“I can make you another if not.” You panicked.

*

“Did I get the right one?” You asked as you brought a blanket down from the bedroom.

“I never specified which one I wanted.” Tom laughed and watched a panicked look escape you.

“Well when you said a blanket you must have had one in mind, I can go and get it.”

“Darling, calm down.” Tom said with furrowed brows as he forced you to sit with him and trying to stop your panic.

“I just want to make sure you’re happy. That I’m not misbehaving.” You said through a panicked voice and Tom’s concern hit a level he wasn’t sure was possible. Misbehaving? You weren’t a child, you weren’t his pet.

“Baby, you do make me happy.” Tom said. “What’s going on with you? What do you mean misbehaving?” Tom asked and he watched as you shrugged.

“I just want to make sure I’m being good.” You shrugged as you settled back down.

*

Tom watched as you filled the cup in your hand, the water rising and before Tom could stop it happening, it happened. The water overflowed and poured out onto your hand, you hissed in pain as you pulled it from the cup, putting the kettle down as you did.

“Fuck darling.” Tom panicked as he instantly grasped your arm and shoved your hand under the cold tap.

“That hurt a bit.” You said and Tom’s eyebrows shot up.

“A bit? Y/N/N, you’ve just practically scolded yourself.” Tom panicked as he continued to keep your hand under the cold tap. “Where were you?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“I don’t know, I feel a bit,” you paused as you thought of the word. “Floaty,” you settled on.

“Floaty?” 

“Yeah, I feel like I keep drifting off today. I’m sorry, have I upset you?” You suddenly asked, eyes finding his.

“Upset? What? Darling, what is going on?” Tom asked as he placed both his hands on your face. You’d just burnt yourself and you seemed more concerned about whether he was upset than your burnt hand.

“I don’t know.” You admitted as tears sprung to your eyes.

“Oh sweetheart.” Tom said as he pulled you into his chest, making sure your hand stayed under the tap. He held for a few minutes, placing kisses into your hairline as your silent tears wet his t shirt. He pulled back after a while, pulling your hand from under the tap to examine it, he was relieved to see no blisters, that you were extremely fucking lucky and had avoided a trip to A & E.

Your hand was still red raw and had a heat to it so Tom grabbed a tea towel and drenched it in cold water, wrapping it around your hand.

“Tommy, I’m tired.” You said almost childlike, almost as you do when you’re in a drunken state. “I’m really tired.” You said again.

“Okay, I’m gonna go and grab some burn cream and then I’ll put you to bed, okay?” He reassured as he led you upstairs and into the bathroom. Once in there he quickly applied the cream to your hand, he was thankful Sam had talked him into buying some, the chef in him reminding the family how bad burns could be. Once he’d dressed you, he helped you get into bed, pulling the covers over you.

“Wait, where are you going?” You asked as Tom was about to leave the room. “You’re not staying?” You asked in a small voice. Your behaviour had certainly taken a turn over the day.

“I can if you want me to?” He said and he watched you frantically nod your head. He cuddled you until you fell asleep and then carefully removed himself from the bed, careful in his every move not to wake you.

It wasn’t long before he was dialling his best friends number and asking him to come over.

“What’s up?” Harrison asked he plopped down on the couch next to Tom.

“Y/N/N.” Tom sighed and Harrisons brows shot up in concern.

“Has something happened? Is she okay?” 

“I don’t know.” Tom huffed out as he ran a hand through his hair. “She’s not been herself today and I don’t know what to do.” Tom admitted.

“How’d you mean?”

“Well for starters she spent most of this morning tripping over things. She lost track of time earlier on today, you know her, she doesn’t do that.” Tom sighed and Harrison shrugged.

“Maybe she genuinely did, we can’t all be perfect.” Haz laughed and Tom looked at him seriously.

“Haz, she’s been, needy. Like I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, just out of character. She told me she didn’t want to ‘misbehave.’” Tom said and Haz furrowed his brows in thought.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” Tom shrugged.

“Are you guys like, you know.” Harrison started nervously before collecting himself with a deep breath. “Do you have a dom, sub dynamic?” He asked and Tom furrowed his brows for what felt that the millionth time that day.

“Yeah.” Tom answered carefully.

“And is she the sub?” He asked.

“Harrison.” Tom warned, he wasn’t one to discuss the ins and outs of his sex life with other people, he saw it as a private thing between two people.

“Just,” Haz sighed. “Hear me out, please. Is she?”

“Yeah.” Tom answered again, carefully.

“Have you had a session recently?” He asked again and Tom nodded in response, he was lost, what the fuck did this have to do with anything? “When you engage in your dom side, do you, you know, like ‘punish’ her for misbehaving?”

“Harrison, what the fuck has this got to do with-” Tom cut himself off as realisation dawned on him. You’d been a brat yesterday and he’d acted accordingly.

“It’s called subspace mate.” Harrison said.

“But this has never happened before? Why would it happen now?”

“It doesn’t always happen, sometimes it just takes her hormones being out of balance. Maybe she slipped into it and you never fully coaxed her back, would explain why she’s stuck in a sub mentality.” Haz shrugged.

“But I’ve done everything we normally do in aftercare, I’ve looked after her, reassured her.” Tom reeled off.

“Maybe she’s looking for her dominating partner to bring her back?” Haz suggested. “Try being more forceful.”

“I don’t wanna push her Haz, she fucking burnt herself earlier, completely on another planet when she made a brew.” 

“Maybe you have been doing without realising it.”

“What?”

“Kept her in subspace, you’ve coddled her. Made her feel safe, taken care of. Look, I don’t know Tom, every woman is different but it sounds like based on her behaviour, that you have pulled her further under without meaning to.” 

“Okay, thanks Haz.” Tom said. They enjoyed a good hour or so together, catching up before Tom’s phone pinged with a message from you asking where he was. Tom sighed as he read it.

“Try being a little firmer with her.” Harrison suggested and Tom nodded as he said goodbye to his friend. “Don’t beat yourself up, these things take trial and error and as long as you are both safe, happy and learning it’ll be okay.” Harrison reassured as he placed a comforting hand on his friends shoulder before heading out.

Tom collected himself as he made his way back into your shared bedroom. Your eyes instantly finding his as you flew out of the bed and into his arms, he took a deep breath before his next move. Clearly he needed to change tactic, he just wasn’t sure which one you needed.

“Y/N,” he said as he pulled you back, holding you at arms length as he looked you deeply in the eye. “I need you to come back.” He said and he watched as you furrowed your brows.

“What do you mean? I’m here?”

“You’re not, not properly.” Tom said a little firmly. “You’re still in that floaty place, as you called it.”

“No, Tom.” You laughed. “I feel floaty, I didn’t go anywhere.” You giggled.

“You did and now I need you to come back.” He tried again.

“Tom, you’re being silly.” You laughed again, “I’m right in front of you.” You said, “see you’re touching me.” You continued as you gestured to his hands on your shoulders. Tom didn’t miss your tone, your bratty tone, he changed tactic, eyebrow raising in challenge.

“What did you just call me?” Tom asked, voice demanding, the same tone he used when he was ‘punishing’ you in bed. He watched as you smirked.

“I called you silly.” You challenged and Tom hummed as he backed you into the wall.

“Are you being a brat princess? Are you sure that’s what you want to go with right now? You’re making it sound like you want me to punish you.” He said, lips close to yours as his breath fanned your face, your breath hitching as you shook your head.

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t want to misbehave anymore.” You said and Tom looked you directly in the eyes.

“Then I want you to come back.” He spoke, voice laced in a tone that had told you to ‘get on the bed’, ‘cum for me.’ He watched as an understanding flashed across your eyes and Tom continued. “Come on princess, I need you to come back. I need my Y/N.” He whispered as he captured your lips in his own. “It would make me happy if you did.” He finished.

He watched as your eyes became less vacant, slowly coming back as he coaxed you out with well placed kisses and demands. It wasn’t long before your hand wound into his hair and Tom sighed in relief as his head found your neck.

“That was fucking weird.” You snorted, voice completely your own. 

“That’s never happened before.” Tom said as he pulled back to look at you.

“It was so strange, it’s like I needed you to be the opposite of how you are during aftercare. I just kind of stayed in subspace last night.” You rambled.

“You knew you were in subspace?”

“Well yeah, you’ve done it before but you always coaxed me out of it.” You admitted and Tom looked confused.

“What happened last night? Why didn’t it work?” Tom panicked, had he missed something? 

“Don’t know.” You shrugged. “I suppose you fell asleep quicker than usual and I had one of the best orgasms I think I’ve ever had.” You said and you took in the look on Tom’s face. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up, it happens.”

“But I missed it.”

“Yeah but you still kept me safe. That’s what this is about right? Having fun and being safe. Tom you make me feel so safe, how do you think I end up in subspace sometimes, it’s a different kind of pleasure. As a sub I make myself completely vulnerable to you and you make me feel so safe and wanted and the level of trust I have in you is off the charts and sometimes it just happens, sometimes I drift off.”

“Maybe we pushed it too far.” Tom said as he took your hand in his, placed a kiss to the back of your injured hand. “I couldn’t protect you from this.”

“Tom,” you sighed. “The burn was a mistake, you can’t protect me from everything. If you’re worried I regret what we did last night because of this then don’t be. I don’t regret anything we’ve tried and I trust you, okay? Remember that one time I used the safe word and you stopped immediately and took care of me?” You asked and Tom nodded.

“This is something that does take an element of trial and error, getting fully used to everything that can happen. You took care of me, you brought me back, Tom I trust you completely with me.” You continued. “I’ve never given myself over to someone the way I have you and I’m glad, I’m glad I get to experience these things with you and I wouldn’t change it or you for the world.”

“I promise I won’t miss it next time.” Tom reassured and you smiled as you kissed him.

“I don’t doubt that for a second.”

[yourmidnightlover]

the nickname

Summary: reader convinced spencer to let her take the reins in the bedroom... or does she?

TW: oral (male recieving), fingering, mention of overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, riding, scratching, use of nicknames (princess, love, etc.), hints at sugar daddy!spencer, age gap (not specified but i’m thinking around 10-15 years). *let me know if i missed anything*

WC: 2,912

A/N: this hinted at sugar daddy!spencer (not really hinted so much as saying it outright). I also wrote this for @anxiousblanketqueen ‘s fic contest for her birthday! i believe it’s prompt number 21. i hope you enjoy :)

————————————————————————

you had been together for a while, now. maybe 13 months? you bet spencer could recall - more like knew he could.

you had met when you were one of his students. you're going to georgetown on an academic scholarship because no way in hell could you pay for the full tuition when you still couldn't afford it with the scholarships.

he took a liking to you - how could he not? you were a hard worker and proved yourself to be extremely determined. on top of the obvious intelligence, you had a beauty that radiated around you. and that beauty had a touch of... innocence. and maybe that innocent beauty is what initially attracted him to you, but he'd like to think it was just your personality as a whole.

you were never one of the students who would come to his office after hours for help you clearly didn't need. you would use your colored pens and highlighters to help organize your notes, so it took a while to pack everything up to leave.

one day, when there weren't any students lined up out his door, he went to your seat as you were cleaning up. you looked up, rather surprised that your inappropriate crush was standing right by you.

"uhm... hi," you smiled at him as you put your pencil pouch in your bag, breaking eye contact for the briefest of seconds before returning your attention back to him.

"hi. i was uhm..." he cleared his throat, "i was wondering if you had any questions? you never come to the office hours for questions and i was just... just making sure," he stuttered out.

"oh," you chuckled a light, airy laugh that spencer wished he had recorded so he could replay it over and over and over. "i don't have any questions. i guess that just means that you're a really good professor - very thorough," you stood up and flung the bag over your shoulder, still incredibly shorter than him.

"than-thank you," he smiled. "i'm happy to hear that you're actually getting something out of the lessons," you began walking out of the classroom, looking back to ensure that he was following you.

"yes, i truly do," you agreed. "i'm also pretty sure i'm one of the other people who isn't auditing the class," you added.

"correct, you are," he enthusiastically gestured, another laugh leaving your beautiful lips.

"i mean, you can't necessarily blame them for just taking the class," you chuckled as he held the door open for you, you gave him a subtle 'thank you.'

"what do you mean?" he asked in a soft tone.

"i mean you- you're..." you trailed off, gesturing to his entire body in hopes to convey what you meant. he just looked at you with a confused taste, letting you know you needed to elaborate. "you're very... attractive, professor reid."

"oh-that's very... thank you," he blushed as you halted by the bus stop.

"of course," you turned around, looking up to meet his eyes. "so... wait, what time is it?" you asked rather frantically.

"it's," he looked at his silver watch adorning his wrist, "6:27."

"shit," you swore for the first time in front of him, underneath your breath.

"wha-what is it?" he asked, perplexed as to why you would be so frustrated.

"the last bus leaves at 6:15 and i've missed it," you huffed out, trying to compose yourself before checking your bag and realizing, "i forgot my key and my roommate is at her girlfriend's house."

"is there anything i could do?" he asked concerned.

"no i can... i can just stay at the library. i should probably study up anyway," you tried to laugh it off although you knew it was pointless... he was a profiler for christ's sake.

"the library? y/n, this might seem a bit inappropriate but i have a spare room you could stay in until your roommate gets back," he offered kindly.

so, you took him up on his offer.

you slept in his spare room after he got you both takeout. you laughed and talked for what seemed like meer minutes but turned out to be until 1 a.m. you talked about string theory and the leonard euler's paradox. he gave you interesting facts about tortoises and achilles.

that little hangout session turned into countless hangouts over the span of three months. and then he asked you out on a real date once you finished at the top of his class - and not just because you were his favorite.

the first time with spencer was... beyond delightful. he was captivating with the way he worked against and for your body. it was almost as if he felt like his sole purpose on earth was to please you. he was eager, yet patient with the way his tongue flicked and sucked at your skin.

he was such a dominant personality in the bedroom, which was extremely appreciated since you didn't have much experience in that arena. but now that you were more versed in that world, you wanted to experiment a bit more.

casually, he began to pay for your things. it wasn't so head-on at first. it would be paying for your groceries, or buying all of your college books for you. but then it got a bit bigger. when your roommate couldn't give you the necessary half of the rent that was due and was beginning to be a nuisance, spencer quite literally let you move into his place. he would pay for your car's repairs and bought you jewelry consistently.

one time, as a joke, you called him your sugar daddy - mostly because that's how he acted. he just didn't like the term. he felt as though it made your relationship together seem one-sided when you were, in fact, very in love with the man. you came to realize it also made you seem like a gold digger, which you weren't - even though the money is a nice plus. so, you relented and didn't say that again.

spencer never really had much time off now that he was working back at the bau and traveling but now, you had him to yourself for a whole week. you had been planning this since he told you when he'd be off.

step 1: look sexy - you always looked sexy to him, but feeling sexy would also be a plus.

step 2: surprise him while looking sexy - absolutely devious.

step 3: seduce him - when doesn't he want you? exactly.

it was foolproof.

you had gotten the text 15 minutes ago that spencer was on his way back to his place, wanting you to meet him there once he had settled in. little did he know that you were in a sexy little white number - the white reminded him of your innocence which really got him going - lying in wait for him in a pair of heels. you sat in one of his reading chairs, deciding to pick up a book until he got home.

when you heard the jingling of keys coming from the other side of the door, you assumed your position. the chair was turned toward the door, you sitting pretty with one leg crossed over the other.

spencer walked through the door, hanging his coat and briefcase up before finally noticing you. his eyebrows shot up, looking your body up and down hungrily.

"wow," he smiled a wicked grin as he slowly made his way to where you were sitting. you stood up, heels clicking as they hit the floor and walked closer to him.

"i wanna try something," you placed your hands on his chest, pushing him back slightly until he was forced to sit down on the couch.

"and what would that be, princess?" he asked, hands stroking your hair that was cascading down your back.

"i..." you bent down to whisper in his ear, "i want to be in charge tonight," you placed a soft kiss below his earlobe, feeling his body shudder subtly at the proposition.

"are you sure you can handle that?" he chuckled, hands roaming to your waist and grinding your hips down on his.

you almost gave up. almost. you grasped his hands, placing them on the arm of the couch before getting close to his face. your lips were almost touching before you whispered, "no touching today, pretty boy."

you felt his hips rut up against your core, you chuckled at his eagerness. you decided to throw him a bone and ground down, hard, against his hips. the groan he let out was low and enticing, nearly enough to allow you to give him whatever he wanted.

"bedroom," you whispered against his neck before getting off of his lap, allowing him to scurry to the room. "take off your clothes while you're at it!" you giggled under your breath as you heard his clothes shuffling, telling you that he was obeying your request.

you waited a couple of minutes until you went into the room, wanting to have him go a bit insane like he normally did to you. when you walked in, he was laying on his back on the bed, just like you wanted. his cock was already red and leaky, prominent as it bounced on his tummy.

"good boy, spence," you giggled, walking over to him and straddling his legs.

once you were settled, you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before trailing them down his torso, leaving the occasional hickey scattered on his chest. traveling kisses down his happy trail, you traced the vein on his dick and watched it twitch up and hit his stomach once again you giggled at the reaction.

"now i understand why you like so much responsiveness," you chuckled as you pressed a soft, barely-there kiss to the tip of his cock, he hissed once again from the contact.

you slowly took his cock in your mouth, agonizingly slow, and flattened your tongue at the base. one you got him as far down you could manage, you began bobbing your head just as slow. his hands flew to your hair, trying to force you to go faster until you swatted them away.

"should i tie those up?" you threatened, your hand working at his member as you spoke.

"are you fucking kidding me?" he swore, clearly agitated by your antics.

"no," you squeezed his dick for punctuation, the way he grunted made the wetness pool in your underwear. "i'm not kidding you."

you took him in your mouth once more, bobbing your head far more vigorously than before this time, just to spite him. hollowing your cheeks, you swallowed around him and began gagging around his dick before coming back up for air.

"fuck," he whispered underneath his breath, not wanting to let you know just how much of an effect you had on him.

you smiled to yourself and continued your antics until he was spilling all down your throat. you didn't stop there, you came back up and let your hand continue pumping his member slowly.

"shit," he hissed from the stimulation.

"shhh," you put your free finger up to his lips.

you gave his dick a few more strokes, curses leaving his lips delightfully before you drew your hands up his body once more before straddling his lap. after moving your panties to the side and slicking his cock with your arousal, you ground against him leisurely, trying to tease him a bit more. you unclasped your bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. finally, you reached between the two of you and lined him up with your entrance.

"are you sure you can do this?" spencer asked, not to entice you, but to make sure you were alright.

"there's a first for everything," you chuckled, knowing you had never been on top before.

you had never been on top before - you'd like to blame your lack of experience. you knew it might be hard to keep up the pace, but you were determined to make not only yourself but also make spencer feel good. that's all you've ever wanted. that's what you're meant to do - make him feel good. so no matter what it took, you'd make it happen.

you slowly lowered yourself onto his dick, being wary of how much bigger he felt from the new angle.

"shit," you whispered, your hands resting on his chest in attempt to ground yourself. "oh god..." you trailed off, feeling your dominant personality fade away as the pleasure overtook you.

"keep going, princess," he spurred you on, his hands finding your waist and rubbing gentle circles on your skin. "you've got it."

so you rose on your knees until only his tip was inside of you for you to lower yourself once more. you whimpered from the feeling of him re-entering your body, your pussy clenching around him as if he were an intruder.

"doing so good for me," he grasped your waist a bit tighter so he could help you rise and fall on his cock. "fuck, it's so good."

"d-doctor, i-" you stuttered, the persona nearly entirely gone and nowhere to be seen as he continued to move you up and down.

when you learn forward, your face hovering over spencer's chest, he took the opportunity to wrap his arms entirely around your waist. before you knew it, he was slamming his length into your pussy over and over and over and over again.

"oh! oh my god," you moaned, your voice reaching a higher octave as he drilled into your body in the most pleasurable way imaginable. "don't stop! don't stop! ple-please!" you screamed out, your hands wrapping around his torso and squeezing his body to ensure that he was there - present.

"i won't, princess. just let go. let go for me," he pressed a kiss to the top of your head so sweetly in contrast to how he was fucking you.

"i'm cumming! oh god, i'm cumming, spencer!" you cried out as you released the tension from inside of you.

only spencer wasn't done yet, so he took himself out of you, and he placed you on your back before reentering you. he moved in and out of you at a godly pace, trying to get himself to his climax before you would become too overwhelmed from the overstimulation.

"spen- spencer," you scratched at his back, surely leaving red marks for him to ogle once you were through. "i-i'm close," you sucked lightly at his earlobe before he moved his hand between the two of you, circling the little bundle of nerves at your crest.

"my little insatiable bunny, huh?" he smiled as you whimpered into his ear, nearing your second release. "loves my cock a bit too much, huh?"

"please! fuck!" you shouted out as you came on his dick, pulling at his hair. the clenching and fluttering of your pussy finally sending him over the edge, his hot release flooding your insides.

"fuck," he groaned into your ear as he carried the two of you through your releases. "good job, princess," he pressed a kiss to your neck as you stroked his hair, playing with it as you were still coming down.

"i'm sorry," you frowned once he pulled out, finally making eye contact as he lay down beside you.

"what for?" he asked incredulously.

"i just... i wanted to make you proud and i couldn't even finish without your help," you explained in a whiney manner, not allowing yourself to meet his beautiful eyes.

"hey," he grasped your chin to force you to make eye contact. "i love it when i have to help you reach that high. that's not something to be embarrassed or upset about."

"i know but i wanted to ride you and i couldn't even do that," you rolled your eyes.

"it takes time to get used to doing that," he chuckled. "and besides, riding someone on the bed is never a good way to begin. the couch is always better - that way you have the back of it to hold onto."

"really? so it's not that i'm just terrible at being a top?" your eyes widened with hope, he smiled at your eagerness.

"i think you could be a switch but it needs a bit of work, my love," he brushed your hair behind your ear before seeing your disappointed gaze and adding, "but i'll bet that with enough practice i could start calling you my little bunny, yea?"

"really?" you perked up at the proposition. "i want you to call me that."

"well then, i guess we better start practicing," he grinned before leaning in and giving you a sloppy kiss, his hands flying to your waist as he stood the both of you up to go to the couch.

needless to say, with spencer's guidance you were able to master the art of riding him. and you got that special little nickname, too.

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[mcyt-imagines]

hi! love your writing! could you possibly do dating headcannons for technoblade?! possibly including some kissing/cuddling :)

I’m so sorry this took so long!! I’m finally on break so I’ll be posting a little more frequently for now! Also I got very carried away with this one,,,, um,,, it’s almost 4,000 words long,,, can you tell Techno is my comfort streamer?? And gender-neutral pronouns as usual! (Edit: This is C!Techno btw, didn’t think I needed to point that out seeing as we all know the actual streamer is not a bloodthirsty half-piglin man but I just got an angry anon in my ask box, so I’m specifying.))

Dating C!Technoblade HCs

Techno being half piglin shares their obsession with gold, and in turn, likes to gift you gold as often as he can. Usually, in the form of jewellery that matches his own, he even gifts you a ‘friendship’ emerald, embedded in a choker you wear most days. And of course, if you ask for it, he makes sure to acquire a crown for you to match his own. As a man who forges his own weapons, he is aware of the process of smelting and sure, he could make the jewellery himself but he’s not very crafty with his hands. Dealing with the small potion vials he uses to brew is difficult enough for his large hands, let alone something as finicky and delicate as jewellery. But when he’d asked you to make your relationship ‘official’ per se, he did persevere and make a ring for you, he ended up making several and scrapping too many he didn’t think were good enough. This continued until Phil had to intervene telling him that if he wasn’t gonna hurry up and ask you he was gonna do it for him, mortified at the thought Techno buckled down and despite the ring’s faults, which were only obvious to him, he gave it to you. You adored it of course, and then he told you he had made it, and it only made you love it more. Techno had underestimated how he would feel when he finally saw you wearing it, he almost killed Phil. The two had been sparring outside in the snow when you had come riding up from the nearby forest, the ring on your finger glinting against the early morning sun and stunning him. Him blindly thrusting his sword forward, head completely turned to you as you approached. Only turning away when he noticed your horrified expression. Thankfully Phil was fine, but you were banned from flashing anything too shiny whenever you came to visit. Techno never heard the end of it from Phil and yourself, however, teasing him for it whenever you had the time.

Techno is a man of few words, for the most part. His love language leans closer to physical touch and acts of service. This man craves your touch, you can hold him so gently in your small hands and he can hardly describe the feeling that washes over him. He wonders if he feels contentment, or if he just feels whole for once. The latter terrifies him because he has no idea what he’s going to do if he ever loses you. That’s a lie. He knows what will happen. The voices will finally win, and it’ll be over. He’ll be lost in the consciousness of a mind that was never truly his own, to begin with. But when you hold him he forgets about all of it, his mind feels clear and quiet. Even if it's just for a few minutes he cherishes those moments, holding you tightly to his chest and simply letting himself breathe. You are his rock, undoubtedly. And now that he’s lived without you for so long, he never intends on letting you go.

Techno’s favourite way to cuddle with you is when you’re both lying on the couch, you draped over him, head on his chest. Sometimes he’ll read to you and sometimes you’ll lie with him for hours, begging him to take a break for once. Even Phil can’t pull him away from his work on his worst days, but you never fail to tempt him with warm cuddles by the fire. Another one of his favourites has to be when every blue moon you wake up before him, he’s quite a light sleeper so once you stir, he’ll wake too. But if you manage to remain undetected and get downstairs he will groggily trudge down the ladder, shirtless and hair an absolute tangled mess. Without a word he will simply wrap his arms around you, pulling your back tightly against his chest and nuzzle his face into your neck all whilst grumbling that you left him alone to wake up. You will always giggle and apologise with soft kisses and a steaming cup of coffee, of course, he begrudgingly forgives you. Those slow morning cuddles as you cook are some of his favourites. When you desperately try to scoot around the small kitchen to stop the eggs from burning and he merely holds you tighter, strength easily holding you back as you whine out complaints as he chuckles against your neck.

Techno is such a sucker for you whenever you kiss his scars. He has a few on his hands that you will always target if you ever feel if he is getting quiet or distant. Your lips on his skin always pull his spiralling thoughts back to the present, back to you. Whenever he starts to feel less than human you practically drag the man to your shared bedroom to remind him of how human he is. Sometimes Techno will tell you the tales behind the scars you pay particular attention to, others he won’t, you focus on those the most. Doing your best to lighten the dark clouds that plague him on his worst days.

Techno isn’t one for a lot of PDA, content to hold your hand and occasionally kiss your forehead. However, if he ever feels threatened by any of the other members of the SMP he is likely to hold you close and glare down anyone who dares look your way. But Techno isn’t intimidated by anyone at the moment, meaning he has no reason to act particularly possessive whilst you’re out. This man adores your hands, he loves watching how small they look in his own. He’ll kiss along your knuckles, especially if you’re wearing the ring he gave you, he’ll murmur a soft, ‘Looking gorgeous your majesty.’ Just to watch the way you smile brightly at him when he does, almost always leaning forward to meet his lips with your own.

Techno is plagued by the memories of his past, the voices a constant reminder of this. He can handle them during the day, but it’s at night when he’s most vulnerable to them. The first time Techno wakes from a night terror you are practically thrown out of the bed as he violently jerks around. Which instantly sets you on alert, Techno sleeps like a rock usually. It’s only when you manage to stand up that you can see him, his body is caked in sweat, strands of his long hair sticking to his skin, the sheets are even damp from it. ‘Techno.’ You try to wake him, knowing he’s a light sleeper. But that doesn’t work. Eventually, you cautiously climb back into bed, tenderly holding his face in your hands, noticing tears slipping down his cheeks as he practically trembles. ‘Techno.’ You call his name again, nothing. ‘Techno!’ He shoots up, sending you flying backwards again in case he threw a punch with him. His eyes are wide, pupils blown out. You’ve never seen him look so terrified before, he scans the room, eyes darting every which way until his eyes finally land on you. ‘A-Are you okay?’ You probe, the tears start again, but they are silent and run quick down his cheeks. His breathing is shallow and quick as his eyes seem to lose focus, looking straight through you. You move closer to him, ‘Hey, hey.’ You coo, unsure what the hell is going on because of course, Techno wasn’t going to tell you he has night terrors. You take his face in your hands again, wiping at the tears on his skin. ‘Techno you’re safe, you’re okay.’ You speak clearly before he pulls you closer, shoving his face into your chest, his arms tight around your middle. You wrap your arms around him as best you can, repeating comforting phrases until his grip loosens, and eventually, he pulls you back down to lie with him. You don’t ask him about it until he mentions it the next morning over breakfast. You hold him close as he talks, face emotionless and eyes blank, trying to distance himself from the events even as he retells them. You deserve to know the atrocious things he’s done. And yet you still choose to stay. Even after everything he tells you, you don’t budge from his side. That speaks louder to Techno than any confession of your undying love could.

Techno is a wanted individual and just by interacting with him, you’re put in danger. But being his partner doubles that danger by tenfold. His enemies will see you as his weakness and desire to use you against him. So, he takes it upon himself to train you, he knows the last thing you want to do is be the cause for his capture or untimely death. As much as Technoblade claims he never dies, if it were your life or his he would not hesitate to sacrifice himself for you. This terrifies you beyond belief of course, so you agree to let him train you. No matter if you already are somewhat skilled Techno’s paranoia surrounding your safety will always encourage him to push your skills further. Most early mornings the two of you spend together, sparring for hours until the sun is high in the sky or until you grow too exhausted to continue. Which in the early days, was often. But there comes a day when you finally best him. He doesn’t remember if he was going easy on you or was distracted by his surroundings, scanning the perimeter. He only remembers the moment you knocked him down onto his back, you look down at him panting with such a shocked expression. Techno looks up to you and holds out an arm, you take it ready to pull him back up only for him to pull you down with him. Techno holds you tight to his chest, the sun warm on both of your faces as it reflects upon the surrounding snow. Neither of you speak but you both understand what this means, you’re ready.

Techno isn’t one for grand gestures to prove his love to you. The man is dramatic, sure. But he finds himself yearning for simplicity, and you provide it. He doesn’t tell you he loves you very often, he is a man of few words, you’ve always known this so you never expected it. However, his actions scream it to you. Countless times you have mentioned small complaints about little things in your life and Techno takes them on as if the draft in your window had a personal vendetta against him. As if it had threatened your very life. You’d never seen a man fix a window frame so aggressively before. It was funnier to watch than you’d admit to him if given the chance. On one particular occasion, you mentioned his absence from the cabin, his explanation of the importance of the Syndicate and the new room Phil and himself had constructed. You understood and didn’t mention it again, not thinking anything of it but a necessary and temporary inconvenience. Only for Phil and Techno to be set up at the kitchen table when you came downstairs the next morning, the table covered in tattered books and coffee spill-stained scrolls. You were confused for a moment, spotting the Syndicate plans, codenames, etc sprawled out in Phil’s chicken scratch. Until it clicked. Hauling all of the stuff up from the Syndicate room had been a bit of a pain but the way your eyes lit up in realisation was more than enough for Techno to know it was the right choice.  

This man cannot keep a secret from you. Most may think he isn’t very talkative, but you can hardly get him to shut up sometimes. Not that you’d ever want him to, eager to listen to whatever he has to say. He will always come to you when he feels he needs advice, knowing you will offer a fresh perspective that may give him the breakthrough he needs to make an informed decision. You are his rock and he never wants you to forget that. He may be more talkative with you but that doesn’t stop him from being a fantastic listener. Sometimes he can get zoned out when the voices become too much. In the beginning, you found it difficult to tell when he wasn’t able to listen, but after being around him for so long you’ve got a better knack for it. And sometimes you can’t and you keep talking, he’ll just silently press a hand to whatever part of you is easiest to reach. And that usually gets the message across. Sometimes you can pull him out of his own head, and other times you can’t. So you just sit with him in comfortable silence, usually, you’ll place your smaller hand in his and lean into him. The two of you have fallen asleep countless times like that.

However, sometimes the fact he can’t keep a secret from you leads to some comical miscommunication neither of the two of you foresaw. Phil, Techno and Ranboo had left for around a week in search of a new woodland mansion to raid, following one of Ranboo’s countless maps. Upon their return, Techno seemed visibly, off. He wasn’t being distant or getting lost in his own head, it was more as if he were actively avoiding you. Which was something very un-Techno. What made your worry increase tenfold was when you asked Phil if he had noticed any kind of difference the blonde merely shook his head. “He seems normal to me, mate.” Because there’s no way Phil didn’t notice Techno’s change in behaviour, which means they’re both hiding something from you. Knowing the two men quite well, you knew they wouldn’t break. But Ranboo would. So with your head held high, you sought out to find the boy, only to find out he was staying in Snowchester for the time being but would be returning in the morning. That night thoughts of self-doubt plagued you, wondering if it was something you had said or done that made Techno act strangely. But just as the moon was reaching its zenith, Techno came into your shared bedroom. He beckoned for you to follow him, after putting on some snow appropriate outerwear the two of you were on the back of Carl headed towards the forest’s tree line that faced the cabin. You asked Techno where you were going his only response, “It’s a surprise.” And to say your heart soared would be a slight understatement when the two of you finally reached the forest clearing. A small candlelit dinner for two inside of a dark oak gazebo. One that looked as if it had only been finished recently, the veneer on the wood still in impeccable condition as Techno led you over to it. You were truly floored by this display, stars illuminated in your bright eyes. “Phil and Ranboo helped. We brainstormed on our way back from the woodland mansion. And I, I knew I’d spill the secret the moment you asked. Sorry.” His apology and explanation are curt, much like the man himself.  You hold him tight then, arms wrapped around him for as long as he’ll let you. He chuckles after a while, “C’mon, the food’s getting cold.” He pulls away after pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, pulling your chair out for you because Phil told him to. The blush you provide lets him know he should do it more often. As the two of you begin to finish your food you hear the soft strumming of a guitar and an equally soft voice to match. Floating atop one of the branches in a nearby tree, as if he were trying to sit on it, is Ghostbur. He sends a small and quick wave when you spot him before his hand drops back down to his guitar. “Wow, you really pulled out all the stops for this, huh?” You look back to Techno to find him now stood up, offering his hand to you. “For you. Anything.” You take his hand and he leads you into the middle of the gazebo with a grace you always knew he had. Ghostbur continues to serenade, the two of you dancing in your own private world until the moon was low on the horizon once again.

Whenever Techno leaves to go and fight he knows you worry about him. You do not doubt his skills but his luck is bound to run out eventually. Skill and resources only account for so much of the outcome, luck and fate determine the rest. Techno worries when he leaves to fight as well. He worries about what will happen if he ever loses. When his enemies will come for you, his past now liable to catch up with you as well as himself. He can’t have that happen. That’s why he keeps fighting, he won’t stop until he knows that if he ever falls in battle you will be safe from his enemies past or present. When Techno eventually does get back from the battle, without fail you will swear up and down that he cannot keep doing this and that next time you’re going to leave him to bleed out in the snow on the porch. You never do. But some days Techno thinks you’d be better off if you did. But those are the kind of thoughts you happily kiss away with a soft smile and a few gently spoken words. You are always the one to patch him up when he’s injured, which isn’t often but you remain swift with sutures and bandages despite that. No matter how badly he’s been injured you will always hold him so reverently, with such a gentle expression that it never fails to floor him. Most sessions in which you patch him up devolve into soft gasps and warm hands on your body to repay you for your ‘services’.  

Techno knew you were different from the moment he met you. He acknowledges how stupidly cliché that is, but it’s true. The constant chatter of the voices in his head drowned out the first time he saw you, even if it was just for a moment. They stuttered and stammered, just as he did. You floored them as much as you floored him. When you were with him, they would quieten. As if they wanted to concentrate on what you were saying as much as he did. Not even Phil made the voices act in such a way. Only you. Nowadays they only bother him on certain bad days that grow more and more infrequent the longer you are in his life. You drown them out in a way nothing else in his life ever has. He doesn’t know how he can ever repay you for that but vowing to be by your side for the rest of his life seems to be a good enough start for the two of you.

The first time Techno tells you he loves you is when you’re in battle together. Techno, Phil and yourself had decided to raid a woodland mansion, something all three of you had done before with no trouble. But upon arriving, everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong. This led to the three of you becoming separated within the confines of the thick wooden walls. You were managing to keep a level head but fear was growing in the pit of your stomach. With every vindicator you took down another only seemed to replace it, leaving you tired and heaving for air. You were in good shape all things considered but you were getting tired and soon you would get careless, you needed to find Techno and Phil and get the hell out of here before things got worse. Your totem of undying tied tightly to your waist glints against the setting sun pouring through the large floor to ceiling windows as you charge past, enemies remain at your back as you plough forward heading for the set of stairs you know are here somewhere. As you spot the sacred stairs you hear a shout of pain followed by a deep snarl. You look over the stairs balcony to see Techno swarmed by a group of stubborn Vex. He looks exhausted. Bloodstains him, you’re unsure whether it’s his, the enemies, or a combination of the two. Techno fails to notice the Ravager charging towards him from behind, the axe raised high above its head. The half-piglin far too distracted by the Vex and the aiming of his crossbow at their stupid little bodies. It takes only a moment for you to vault over the second-floor railing and plummet towards the Ravager. You land on its shoulders and it stumbles, your hand shoots out to restrain its axe-wielding arm. The other hand desperately clawing at you as it grumbles and groans grow high pitched and panicked. Your legs wrap tightly around its throat until you hear a sickening pop and you fall to the ground along with the now very dead Ravager. You don’t manage to catch yourself, despite the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You let out a soft groan as a hand comes into view, Techno following it. You take his hand and he hauls you back up and onto your feet. Now that you’re closer to him you can tell that some of the blood staining his clothing is his, but you’re sure you mirror his look. He doesn’t let go of your hand now that you’re stood up and neither do you. You look up from your entwined hands to his face, he’s staring at you with an expression you can’t quite determine. “Tech-“ His lips plant firmly onto your own, swallowing your words instantly. He grips the small of your back, trying to pull you closer into him as if the two of you could fuse into one single being. When he finally pulls away to let you breathe your lungs are burning, soft gasps heaving in air. “I love you-” He mumbles the phrase repeatedly against your lips like a prayer, a mantra, only to capture your lips again before you can even respond to his confession in kind. Eventually, the two of you break apart long enough for you to be able to tell him you love him as well. You knew he loved you before that moment, but in reality, he finally realised how much he loved you. And for the first time, it didn’t scare him.

~Requests are still open! But it’s a little full so please be patient!~

[kyberphilosopher]

Reverse Flash

A backwards version of your favorite speedster comes searching for Barry, only to find you instead. 

Word Count: 2403 Warnings: Crude Humor. Not proof read yet because I’m too tired. 

As per my latest fics, the gender of the reader is not specified. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Barry was always nice to you.

Well, Barry was nice to everyone. I mean, his parents named him Barry. He was set up for a life of cheekiness before he was even born. But Barry was nice to you even after ‘the incident’. Barry was nice to you when everyone else stopped. On top of that, Barry was being nicer to you than usual lately.

Probably because he and Iris were having a rough spot.

That was the only annoying thing. Barry liked you, and he was interested in you, but you were still second place. He was just using you. He wouldn’t marry you, or feel a deep longing for you. He’d just take you on ice skating rink dates in the winter and give you the best Valentine’s day of your life every year. Which is everyone’s dream, you guess, but it wouldn’t have been genuine, no matter what Barry managed to convince himself.

Barry’s little support team seemed to be on the same page as you (which was a first), which both added to and subdued your aggravation. All of them were in agreement of the simple fact: you were no good for Barry. Mr. Flash was the only one who didn’t seem to get the memo.

In the very beginning, things weren’t like how they were now. Team Flash or whatever the name was considered you good colleague, and they trusted you because Allen trusted you. You had been friends with Barry longer than anyone else there. And of course you were smart, and you handled annoying journalists and incriminating footage like it was nothing. But then you’d suggested using lethal force to subdue one of the Flash’s biggest problems. That’s when the air changed. That’s when people decided you should not now, not ever go on a date with him. It would throw off the whole rhythm of the team, probably Barry’s morals and possible the timeline. Lucky you.

Though flat out rejecting Barry might make it worse. You had been irritable lately. Maybe a little more sarcastic than normal. What if you snap, and then the team snaps too? And sweet little Barry is too kind to tell you off? God, you knew you were the worst, but the thought alone seemed like more than just ‘the worst’. It was like a tornado of stinky shit just barreling toward you, somehow simultaneously faster than the speed of light and slower than a turtle filled with rocks for organs.

And it was all definitely Barry Allen’s fault.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

So, that’s why you’re here now. Stuck with watching Headquarters while all the speedsters go out and... speed. Who knows. You’re out of the loop with the whole... speed demon thing. You’re pretty sure they have a group chat without you. Fuckin’ nerds.

Your legs are stretched out to the desk in front of you. They cross over each other at the ankles, to the left of the big computer monitor that’s supposed to display the heartbeats of the team but is instead displaying something from cartoon network. A near empty bag of Chinese food sits at your side, it’s contents littered across the table.

As you chew, you look around the room. Several suits in display cases curve against the wall in a half circle, illuminated by blue light. Some are burgundy, some are silver, and some are golden. And you could smash every single one of them right now.

But you won’t, and you don’t. Not to say it isn’t tempting- it is. You still don’t touch the suits. 

God, what’s been wrong with you recently? Barry was your friend, and yet you’d been so annoyed with him. His flirting had only made it worse. Wally wasn’t any better. He got even more annoying once thinking about how childish, yet powerful he was. All the Kid Flash’s were just temporary brats that never stayed, whether you  liked them or not. And Iris wasn’t a fan of you. That was fine, because you weren’t exactly a friend of Iris’s either. So the most important part of your life that literally depended on superhuman existence and stopping crime was teetering because of pure social discomfort. Typical.

You’re watching the screen that serves as the closest light in the room as you shovel the next bite of rice between your lips. Neon colors make the shadows across your face feel alive and electric. It makes the glow in your eyes more prominent, encouraged by the childish nature of the media. You’ve just finished a snarky personal comment and given yourself another bite of rice when he appears to you.

He looks like Barry. The only difference is that he’s the complete opposite.

Instead of scarlet, his speed suit is yellow with red and dark grey accents. They remind you of blood lightning at the seams. Even under his half mask, he seems so familiar but so much more defined than your friend. As he exits the slice of colorful air and thunder, the heels of his shoes skidding across the floor, the red glow in his eyes settles into a calmer thrum.

And you’re still frozen in place, eyes wide as you still yourself mid chew.

The yellow speedster settles his orbs on you. They’re intelligent, and in the reflection of the little light in the room you can see they’re not red, but blue. And you? You’re just a deer in the headlights. 

“Aw, you’re not Barry,” he groans in disappointment, standing straighter as his arms cross over his chest. 

You finally continue your chewing, keeping your wide eyes on the intruder. Then you swallow it down. In your chest, your heart thump, thump, thumps with something. Fear? Not quite. Anxiety? Almost. It’s something else. Something more... intuitive. And the way this man looks at you makes you think that he can hear it, even from where he stands. That he knows.

“Uh... no?”

The man responds not a millisecond after you’ve gotten the words out. “Where is he? Where’s Barry Allen?”

Woof. His voice is throaty and laced with sarcasm, even though he’s clearly deathly serious. But the vibrations send a funny spasm straight to that little place between your legs, making the nerves in your spine dance with alertness. Arousal. Barry was never able to do that, let alone with just the sound of his voice.  

“Doing something?” you decide. “I don’t know.”

The golden man cocks his head to the side, almost smirks, and takes a step forward. “Hey, I know you.” His arms uncross. One raises and bends to point at you. “You’re Barry’s tech support. I remember reading about you in his museum.”

Your brows furrow. Hurriedly, you clear the take-out box from your lap and begin wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You drop your legs from their position on the desk to their normal position on the floor, knees bent. “Uh... I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah... Y/N L/N. Now I see it.” The man leans back on his heels and looks around the room. The red glow in his orbs burn away completely so it’s just him. “Ah, so this must be before you defected, huh? Interesting.”

“Pardon?!” you call again. Now you’re sitting forward, disbelief across your face. 

Golden speedster smiles. It looks evilly distorted, even though it’s just a normal smile. It curves his face sarcastically. His hands fly upwards as if in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Y/N. You know actually, you’re kind of a villain in my time. This is nice for me.”

“Great, I’ll tell Barry when I see him,” you bite.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Now how about you tell me where Barry is before I erase you from existence.”

“I don’t know,” you repeat as the quick bolt of fear fizzles from your system. Your eyes trail down to his chest for just a quick second, but it’s quick enough to observe yet another difference between your familiar scarlet speedster and him. The circle surrounding the lightning bolt on his chest is facing the opposite direction, red, and that circle is filled with black. It’s as if he were the complete opposite of Barry. A reverse Barry. 

“Yeah you do. Come on.”

You blink once, still in your roll-y chair. 

You’re not sure what to do here. On one hand, this guy radiates pure evil. You should really alert Barry or one of the other members of Team Flash. But for one reason or another you’ve made no attempt to. You’ve got no clue who this dude is other than the fact that he seems more inclined to rip the fabric of time apart than anyone else. There’s no doubt in your mind he really will erase you from existence if you make one wrong move. But what’s the wrong move?

On the other hand, Team Flash has been a bunch of dickhead’s to you. Barry has been ironically slow to the whole thing. Would it be so bad if you did make a wrong move? Not for you, but for your friends? They’d all die, wouldn’t they? This yellow one would end them, and then what? Would it really be so horrible for you? You can’t imagine mourning much.

“I don’t,” you say again, slowly. “They’re in the city. I don’t know where.”

The man seems to think for a moment, cocking his head back so the light behind the glass cases catches his sharpened features. “Hmm.”

Without even blinking, now he’s in front of you. So close, you can smell him. It’s not terribly strong, it’s just masculine. But it’s also flowery, with a dash of sweat from running. And then there’s something more. Something... metallic? 

Both his hands clutch the arms of the chair beside you, trapping you as you lean back reflexively. “Did you know that I killed Barry’s childhood best friend before he was born?” the man says lowly. 

On instinct, you prepare yourself to say, ‘Barry doesn’t have a childhood best friend’. Then you realize why. 

He continues. “Would you tell me where Barry was if you did know?”

You don’t even think about it. You’re true to your nature. “I don’t know, would I?”

Blip! You wait to burst into a cloud of nothingness. To never have been born or even get to be a ghost. But fifteen seconds later you’re still alive. And from the way Barry talks about being a Flash, fifteen seconds is a long time for someone of that caliber. 

The man is back by the cases of suits now. You can see his muscles through his suit. They’re more defined than Barry’s, thank God. 

“I think you would. But it’s gonna be hard to do that when you’ve got my fingers vibrating into your skull.”

“What?”

“It’s going to be hard to speak when my fingers are inside you.”

You cup a hand against your ear. “Huh?”

“I said-” The man stops. His eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest once more. “Oh, I see.” A short, dry- but genuine- laugh falls from his throat. “Very funny. Very, very funny.”

Suddenly, your eyebrows crease together in confusion. You place both palms on the arms of the chair for leverage as you push yourself into a stand, as if stirred by some great, important purpose. “Wait. Did you say you were going to stick your fingers inside me?”

“I knew you and I were the same,” he drawls. He sounds entertained. As if in his eyes, missing Barry and meeting you instead was the best outcome he could’ve hoped for. 

“Can’t you just...” Your shoulders slump as you glance around. “Just kill Barry and get on with it?”

“Aw, no. This is far more interesting.”

“Fingers in my skull...?” you whisper, half to yourself. Then you look up to him with a snap. “You are so weird,” you tell Reverse Barry, emphasizing it with a low point. “So weird.”

“Want me to tell your future?” 

Again with the voice and the nerves in that special place. 

“I gotta say, it’s kind of disturbing,” the man smirks. “You’ll love it.”

“Weird.”

Across the base, just two hallways away, something clicks. It’s a familiar click. It’s the click of the door opening. 

Quickly, you glance backwards, then lean down to pause the show on the computer. You hadn’t even realized it was still going. Once that’s done, the man is still standing in front of you. That sinister and yet innocent grin is still dancing across his face, though his steely eyes are totally locked on you. 

“What, weirdo? You know where he is now. Aren’t you gonna go get him?”

“You want me to so badly, don’t you?” Reverse Barry whispers. You just give him a look. 

“I’ll be back for you.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

And then the speedster is gone. Right on time, too, cause Barry jogs into the room not a second later. 

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you turn around. 

“Did I just... see someone here?” Barry points towards your end of the room in his scarlet suit. Huh. Reverse Barry was taller too. 

“What are you on about?” you throw casually. “Nobody’s been here but me since you left.”

“Are you sure?” the Flash keeps pushing. You hate it. Pushing. 

“Yes, Barry,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure. Oh, by the way, Barry. Did you have a childhood best friend?”

Barry frowns. “No, why?”

You smile to yourself as you turn back away from him. The other speedster’s footsteps are coming closer and closer. You can hear them echo off the walls. 

“No reason,” you answer with a smirk just as one of them enters the room, probably to give you crap again.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Fun fact, Reverse Flash is actually my favorite villain in DC comics. Bro is vicious in the comics. I just hate all the live action versions of him we get. Lego DC Villains Reverse Flash and Injustice 2 are the best versions. Injustice 2 is my personal preference. I’d like to do more with this but, who knows. Depends how this is received. #lol