#also I’m officially closing these for now! I’ll draw up the rest I have at my own pace again bc exams are coming up :’)) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vorefluff · 1 year

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Seein’ stuff

I’m prolly gonna have to do a masterpost for this stuff soon. And maybe like, an official name for the series. Here’s #3, Damien’s POV. This one is focused a bit more on character building and giving a few important details on Damien, as well as the dynamic between Damien and Co.

I think next up will be a short with Ribbonsy’s POV, then Co’s POV. After getting everyone introduced and dynamics and such, the real fun stuff can start.

2.5k words, and a drawing of Damien. 5′3″ of condensed inhumane menace and aroace as hell. Also no, that isn’t a coloring mistake, he does in fact dye his pits neon green.

Warnings: Disturbing hallucinations. Most likely unmedicated ADHD.

Damien knocks on Co’s door softly. “Casper?”

“Hm? What’s up?” Co answers, a little louder than Damien would’ve liked.

“Is there someone outside staring at the house?” Most of the time, Damien can tell what’s real and what’s not. The eyes on the walls and the ichor from the ceiling obviously isn’t real. Plus, his hallucinations always kick up after he practices with his illusion work, and he just finished an hour or so ago. Antipsychotics don’t do anything since it’s power-linked, unfortunately. He tried.

“I wouldn’t think so, but I’ll come check,” Co says, his voice quieter to match Damien’s volume.

Damien waits in the hallway, flicking his wrist anxiously. He looks towards the rest of the dark house, thinking of how he’d act or react if someone busted in through the front door. Honestly though, that’d be easy to deal with. The terrifying thing would be if they were scoping out the place and looking for stuff to blackmail with.

Co comes out, quietly closing the door behind him. His steps are nearly silent, which is quite surprising considering how big the man was. Not as tall as Ribbonsy, but still a good 6 foot something at least.

Damien leads the way to the living room, careful to stay out of sight of the windows. The curtains are down, but maybe someone could see their shadows. He guides Co to a spot with just the right angle that he could see outside, but they couldn’t see in with the curtains in the way. Damien points. “By the telephone pole,” he whispers.

Co looks intently for a moment, clearly being thorough about it. After a moment, Co turns back to Damien. “I don’t see anyone. Do you still see them?”

Damien peeks. The person absolutely still seems to be there to him. Long black coat, hat, mask. Quite unnerving in the dark, even with his terrible vision. Damien nods.

“Do you want to point them out again, just to make sure I didn’t miss it? Do you still see them by the telephone pole?” Co quietly asks.

Damien nods and points again. Blurry, but absolutely there.

Co takes another moment, then shakes his head. “I still don’t see anything. I don’t think there’s anyone out there,” Co says, turning back to Damien.

“Mkay,” Damien says and takes a deep breath, trying to loosen up the tension.

“Are you alright? Normally you aren’t too bothered by this stuff,” Co asks.

Damien shrugs. Co’s right. He rocks back on his heels, ignoring the arms that come out of the ground and the hands grabbing at his legs. Tries to. His muscles clench up and the skin itches where there’s contact. “I dunno. It jus’ felt more…” Damien gestures vaguely. “Real.”

“Why do you get me, anyway? Instead of Yarrop or Ribbonsy? I mean, for odd cases like this where you couldn’t use your camera or something.” Co questions.

“Eh. Yarrop’d mess with me, Ribsy is too…” Damien gestures vaguely. “Ribsy. You’re chill.” Ribbonsy pisses him off. But he doesn’t feel like getting into it right now.

Co snickers. “Pun intended? Chill?” he asks, producing a small floating ice cube with some fancy hand movement.

Damien rolls his eyes. Alright. Things have been too serious for too long. Nothing’s there, it’s all fine, so it’s time to move on already. He flicks his wrist and looks for something to occupy his attention.

“Aw, come on, not even a snicker?” Co asks.

Damien blinks, reeling his brain back after having already forgotten he’s talking to someone already, his brain kickstarting into trying to find a distraction. He knows he has the attention span of a goldfish at the moment. Hmmmm goldfish crackers. Crackers and cheese? Ham and cheese. Sammich?

“Damien?”

“Huh wha?” Damien says, pulling his brain back again. At least most of the way. He’s still thinking about getting a snack or something.

“You dropped mid conversation and you’re staring out into space. Are you alright? Or are you still seeing stuff?”

“What you mean ‘still’? It doesn’ stop,” Damien says, glancing back at Co and raising an eyebrow. There’s a flash of the skin peeling off Co’s face, eyes dead and slack jawed. Annnnd that’s enough of that. Damien looks back at the wall. He’d much rather have a staring contest with the wall-eyes. At least that’s a bit amusing.

“Ah. Gotcha. Well, since I’m out here already, do you want something to eat?” Co offers.

“What, are ya volunteering yourself?” Damien teases, glancing back and flashing his sharp snaggly teeth with a grin.

Co recoils and puts his hands up defensively. “Nope! I am good. I know how you handle things with Yarrop and I am not interested in sharing that experience.”

Damien snickers and goes back to having staring contests with the walls. “Your loss.” He’s moved on from sandwiches, and now muses about Yarrop. That’s always a great distraction. Fighting him, eating him, being a menace, roping him into pranks and schemes…

“More like dodging a bullet. So anyway, did you want something to eat? And by that, I mean a food item I can put together,” Co clarifies, pointing his thumb in the direction of the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah, sure. I was thinking about grabbing a snack anyway,” Damien says, looking at the kitchen and putting a hand to his stomach. His gut chimes in, growling in support of getting food. He glances up at the clock on the wall, although he’s not sure why he bothered. Without his glasses - which he absolutely refuses to wear under any circumstance - it is incredibly blurry. The most he can tell is that the two hands are probably pointed in the upper corner. Corner? Side? What do you call a section of a circular clock? ‘Cause circles don’t have corners.

Right, Co. Damien tunes back into the conversation.

“...to eat?” Co asks.

Yeah that’s all Damien caught. Whatever else Co said is lost to the void. Also, Damien’s best guess at the time is something like 1:05, 3:15, whatever. The secretses hours of the night, essentially. Midnight snacking time. Well, a bit after midnight. Potentially a few hours? Close enough. Point being, it’s been way too long since dinner and he’s ravenous now that he’s been reminded that food exists.

“Damien?”

“Grill cheese?” Damien proposes. “With ham. Grilled ham and cheese.” Better than crackers.

“Sounds good. Want tomato soup with it?” Co asks.

Damien nods, and notices something skittering in the kitchen. The edges are a bit too sharp compared to how blurry the rest of the kitchen is. That’s part of why he doesn’t like glasses - it’s easier to tell the hallucinations apart without them. Also, he doesn’t hear a sound attached to the skittering. So it’s probably not real. Still a funky little thing. Just skittering. What a way to be. Damien glances out the window from earlier. Telephone guy is still there. He sticks out his tongue at it through a gap in his sharp snaggly teeth.

Co notices and glances out the window too. “I still don’t see anything. Are you still seeing it?” Co asks.

Damien nods, and focuses back on the not-real skittery thing in the kitchen. It’s kinda like a cross between a spider and a possum maybe? Posder. Spidsum. Damien works on putting together an illusion replica of the thing to purposefully skitter around like a little toy car.

When Co turns around back towards the kitchen, he jumps and puts a hand on his chest. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Co asks.

“Aw, common. I’s cute! Looket it skitter,” Damien says, directing the illusion to skitter around the tile flooring near wherever the original hallucination of it is. Two skittering spider-possums.

“That isss one way to put it, for sure,” Co says, eyeing it for a moment before moving on and heading towards the kitchen.

“Whad’ya call a part of a circle? Cause it wouldn’ be a corner. Circles don’t have corners,” Damien asks abruptly, circling back around to an earlier thought. The illusionary spidsum disappears as he instantly forgets about it.

“A quarter?” Co says, opening the fridge.

“No, not a corner.” Damien corrects.

“Huh?” Co says, and Damien could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“You said a corner, and I just said corners don’t have circles. Wait. Other way around. Circles don’t have corners.”

“No, I said a quarter. Like, a fourth of something. Starts with a ‘q’ ‘u’, and has a ‘t’ in the middle,” Co clarifies and grabs ingredients.

Now it’s Damien’s turn to have gears turning. He got it, until the letters got involved and now it’s taking him a moment to connect the pieces together. “Ohhh quarter, ‘k.”

“Do you need to get your ears checked too?” Co teases.

“I better not. If my hearin’ is goin’ too, Imma kill a spud.

“Damn. Killing a whole potato? How would you sleep at night with that weighing on your mind,” Co says with a dramatic headshake.

“Like a baby. Actually, no. Babies are the worst at sleeping. Like a uhhhhh a rat that’s eaten its body weight in melatonin. Potatoes are delicious.”

“I’m pretty sure that if a rat ate its body weight in melatonin, it’d be dead,” Co says, buttering the bread.

Damien shrugs. “So, sleeping hard enough that ya don’ wake up.”

“I’m pretty sure sleep requires some sort of brain activity. Like REM sleep or something. Dead is just dead. That doesn’t sound like a good night’s sleep at all.”

“Alright, well I’d sleep like a rat that’s just eaten half its bodyweight in melatonin then.”

“That’d still kill it.”

Damien raises his hands above his head in exasperation. “Can’t have nothin’ in Detroit.”

“This isn’t Detroit, idiot.” Co says, clearly enjoying turning the tables and being the one to annoy Damien. He puts the first grilled cheese on the stove.

“Who says? Everything is fake and made up anyway. Reality is an illusion and uhhh something something the stage being the world and a play and people being puppets or whatever. This could be detroit if I want it to be.” Damien says. Although, it didn’t really matter if everything was fake or not. Regardless of whatever’s ‘real’ - science, religion, the heat death of the universe or turning off a computer simulation - nothing really matters in the long run, so the important part is to mess around and have fun with it all before it’s gone.

“‘All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players?’ Shakespeare, As You Like It.”

“Nerd.”

Co turns from the stove and flips off Damien. “Nothing wrong with being interested in literature.”

Damien snickers. “So, a nerd. A pret - ah. Pre. Hm. Pretentious? Yeah that. You’re a pretentious nerd.”

“Maybe. But at least I can pronounce ‘pretentious’ on my first try,” Co says and sticks out his tongue.

“So wait, does that mean that anyone that’s not a man or woman isn’t a player, according to the spear shaker?”

Co shrugs. “Guess so. Someone should tell Ribbonsy. They get to be exempt from being a puppet on a stage.”

“What about you?” Damien asks. His eyes start wandering again. Mostly to the grilled cheese. A bit of the various decorations too. Like the ‘live laugh love’ thing that Yarrop and him improved to say ‘stab, stab, stab’ with a little heart on it.

“Me? I’m quite comfortable in my masculinity and existence as a man,” Co says, flipping his ponytail and swishing his skirt. “Even if that means I am naught but a puppet, unfortunately.”

“Fair ‘nough,” Damien says, watching Co flip the grilled cheese sammich. Reality itself seems to be melting, like the cheese. The ceiling dripping, the floor warping. Damien sits on the barstool by the counter and props his head up with his hands. Swings his feet a bit. If he were to theoretically bite the dripping ceiling, would it taste like ceiling or cheese? Well, in reality, nothing of course. But cheesy ceiling is funny.

Co taps his hip for a moment, then snaps his fingers. “The soup!” he exclaims, turning and opening a pantry.

Damien startles, eyes darting to figure out what would warrant a finger snap. Slow down? Slow what down? “Wha’s goin’ on?”

“I forgot about the soup,” Co says and waves it off.

Damien scowls at the improper use of snaps. Snaps are supposed to be reserved for immediate communication.

Co glances back. “Oh, right, wups.”

Damien shrugs and goes back to looking at the cheesy ceiling, but it doesn’t hold his attention like it did a moment ago. Spider possum? That particular hallucination is gone. He crafts another illusionary replica and plays with it for a second. Eh. Still not doing it. He waves it off with a puff of illusionary smoke.

Damien puts his head on the counter and looks up at Co as he cooks. Too many eyes spiderweb their way across Co’s skin. His skin drips, exposing muscle and bone. And, given the lack of screaming, it’s probably not real. Or even if it was, it wasn’t distressing. Ah. So this is what catches his attention. A bit of morbid fascination. It didn’t really bother Damien much, unless he looked at faces. Which he’s not. So.

Co opens the cupboard and grabs a plate, putting the first grilled cheese on it.

Damien perks up instantly, watching. Full attention on the fresh hot sammich.

Co chuckles. “Yes, yes. This one is yours,” Co says, passing it over. “Soup will take a minute.”

“Heck yeah!” Damien says. He almost grabs it, but remembers that’s proooobably not a good idea since it was just on the stove. Instead, he lightly smacks it. Yup. Hot. Damien looks up as Co gets another one started. Hmm. Yes. So interesting. Damien smacks his sammich again. Yup. Still hot. He watches an oversized fly with hooves buzz around. Mhm. Mhm. Damien smacks it again. Yup. Still hot.

Co raises an eyebrow. “I could make you an ice cube or something to run over it if you’re that desperate.”

Damien considers for a moment, then shakes his head. That’d just make it soggy. Damien smacks it again. Yup. Still hot. Smack? Yup. Smack. Uh-huh. Smack… yea. Hot. Sigh. He taps on the counter and stares longingly at it.

“I’d offer to blow on it, but I’m pretty sure you don’t want it frozen,” Co says, stirring the soup.

“Yeah, no. I’d bite ya if you did that to my grill cheesy.”

“Noted.”

Damien smacks it again. Yeah good enough, it’s cool enough to handle at least. He immediately rips off a bite sized piece and swallows it whole. With how messed up his teeth are, it’s nearly impossible to chew things properly. And he ain’t about to start making smoothies of everything. It’s fine, he learned how to do the heimlich on himself. He tears off chunks and throws them down his throat rapidly.

Damien looks up to see Co watching.

“Jealous that your grill cheesy ain’t done yet, or didja wanna join it in my guts?” Damien asks, snickering. Another piece down. That one sticks a bit, and he thumps a fist to his chest to dislodge it. Annnd there it goes.

“Ah, neither. Mostly I’m just wondering how you don’t suffer with chronic indigestion like that. You got guts of fucking titanium,” Co says, shaking his head.

#Co #Damien #my writing #Breathe Life #my art

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bvannn · 9 months

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Weekly Update September 15, 2023

Life is hitting hard. I had a big interview for a really important internship, and while I think the interview itself went really well, the rest of the week has been pretty rough, with the exception of a nice discord call I had with a friend. I don’t know how much of this is bad luck, physical stress on my body due to nerves, or bad decisions on my part, but most likely a mixture of the three. I have not heard back from the internship yet but I do think it went really well, it’s the second time I’ve interviewed for it, and I was really close to getting it last time, and that was before I had officially completed all the relevant courses I took that semester, and also before the lab job I worked this summer. I think I’m in good standing, but I don’t want to be overconfident either. I was told I’d hear back by the end of this week, but given that they’re changing a lot about how they’re doing things I was expecting to hear back closer to next Wednesday, which looks to be the case. I’m fine with the wait, but given what my nerves have been doing to my body, it does unfortunately mean I won’t be able to make as much progress on art projects as I’d like.

I said earlier this week I’d be done for the rest of the week, but I have gone back on that a little. I sketched out some nice shots of Shaun to use as more blood practice, which I’d like to digitize in the near future, and I have kept work on TRGA going. I finished up the character animation for shot 1-2, and have started keyframing Jon for 1-3. 1-3 should be a lot quicker, as it’s short, it has few keyframes, and Tim does not appear, meaning there’s theoretically 33% less animation to do (although in practice it’s more like 12-25% less since Tim has been less complex so far, although I know it won’t stay like that). I’ve probably got almost as much done as I would’ve if I hadn’t ‘called this week off’, but I’m still not going to hold myself to my schedule on it until I hear back about the interview (and possibly then some). It’s still going good though.

I’ve also been messing with effects and whatnot for drawings in general, I’d like to be able to animate with some as well, but I’m going to stick with current projects for now. I’d like to mess with after effects as well, as I’ve been learning a bit about the features it has, and I think I can probably do more with it than animate. I think Adobe programs are meant to be used in tandem with one another anyway. I don’t think I’ll need it for the current animation, but I’ll keep it in mind for maybe the next TRGA. Or I could do more tests in-between.

I think I should be investing more time into music as well, should I have time this weekend I may take another crack at it. I’ve been writing down bass patterns as I hear them from music I listen to, although I’m not trained enough I can identify notes of their own, just in relation to one another, so I probably mistranscribed, meaning what I wrote down would technically be original. I’ll try to mess with that and drums, until I get something nice enough sounding. I already tested my strategy for finding original Melodies, and it doesn’t work 100% of the time but it does work. I really should make a bigger push for music I think it would be pretty good for my state of mind. I need to commit to a basic project but I’ll keep the larger one in mind.

I’m going to keep taking it easy but I’ll try to get stuff done. I’ll keep trying.

#weekly update

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gildedxxshifter · 1 month

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. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁ Equestria dr rambling ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊

This was legit my first dr when I found out about shifting officially. I had imagined myself in this world so often prior to that, making ocs, reading fics, watching videos. I just have so much love for Equestria and I just know that love will grow so much bigger when I finally get there. Or rather when I become aware that I’m there.

In my primary Equestria dr, everything is a more stylized look than canon. I’ll draw our what everyone looks like when I can. Every pony is so pretty and absolutely radiant! Especially Rarity of course. She has a diamond horn, similar to the amethyst horn Twilight has. My own horn is shimmering gold, and in my dr all unicorns have metallic or crystallized horns to focus our magics.

Speaking of Twilight- we used to be classmates back in Celestia’s school! We weren’t very close, but we were both sort of stand outs of the class. Her because she just had so much raw magic and poor social skills. And me because I was a more foreign student (half Saddle Arabian), so we found common ground being the odd ones out. She was so happy to see me again when I moved to Ponyville. I knew she became a princess, and I couldn’t be more proud of my old friend. I’m helping her write her biography these days, recording her adventures and what lead her to her princess title. I imagine it’ll be very inspiring to many ponies.

I can’t wait to be cozied up in my cottage too. It’s fairly close to Fluttershy’s place! We get together at least once a week for tea, and so she can play with my lovely cat, Rumpleteazer! Fluttershy makes the *best* tea I’ve ever had. She also absolutely grows the best weed and I will not take questions. If you have a chance to have cannabis tea, I highly recommend. But my cottage is absolutely perfect for me. Everything is soft and warm, and everypony feels welcomed and loved. It’s a safe space for ponies that need a moment away from the world.

Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom come by pretty often too. They like to hear about my life back in Manehattan and what Canterlot is like (where I grew up). One day I’ll take them for a trip and give their sisters (and Rainbowdash) a break haha! They’re good fillies, teenagers in my dr. I know they’ll be incredible mares one day with so much drive to better the world.

And then there’s the ***princesses***. Practically goddesses in their own rights. And yet, so “human”. They love, they fight, they play, they dream for the future and the ponies they care for. I love them so much.

Princess Celestia, the radiant sun, is a wonderful leader and benevolent. She’s a patron of the arts and education, and it was her guidance that lead me to writing. It’s such a treat for her to come to my book signings! It’s honestly so silly to see her towering over the rest of the ponies, but patiently waiting in line for her turn like everypony else.

Princess Luna, the whispering moon, has really come into her own since returning to the throne. The events with Nightmare Moon did take place, but she has since recovered for the most part. She tends to ponies in their dreams, seeking out those that need her guidance and comforts. She is so beautiful. I hope to become her friend.

As for Princess Cadence, the embodiment of love, what’s not to *love*? She greatly enjoys my writings, and actually sends me letters now and again about what she’s read and her thoughts on it. Fan mail is maybe a good way of putting in. She was excited to meet me when Twilight introduced us, and we spent hours talking about nonsense! She’s such a good queen to the Crystal Empire, and Shining Armor is an equally good king. He’s still such a lovey dork and I know many ponies that are envious of such a pure love.

#*.• dr rambling #mlp dr #mlp reality shifting #my little pony desired reality #my little pony reality shifting

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ysabellious · 3 years

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AAAAAA I LOVE YOUR ART OMG, maybe the color palette Hewwo with C6 or E6? And with Marcy?? It's up to you though! Thank you again! And take your time!!

tried something a bit more experimental on that second one :Pc

#thank you sm fam :D and I liked both too much to choose one so have both!#amphibia #marcy wu #also I’m officially closing these for now! I’ll draw up the rest I have at my own pace again bc exams are coming up :’))#ysart #asks #kikithefox231

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sukirichi · 3 years

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sweet lies (m.)

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

cw. oral (f receiving), fingering, slight body worship, public sex, multiple orgasm, orgasm denial, dirty talk, praising, titty sucking, nsfw, toxic megumi, fwb, slight angst, the traditional unedited fic

note. choose your fighter, megumi or sukuna 😈 and thank you to besties nie and ellie for editing this STOP SHOWING YOUR ANKLES CHIRREN

series masterlist | 01 | 02 | 03

Megumi slides your shirt down your shoulder to press kisses on the bare skin. Your head tilted to the side to give him easier access. You hate that you feel so weak around him, your hands gripping his thigh you’re currently straddling, already so breathless from his teasing ministrations.

“You should move back closer to campus,” he mutters at the juncture of your neck, pulling another soft gasp from you the moment his fingers dip inside your damp underwear. You feel him smile at your skin, using his deft fingers to push two of them inside your sopping hole. He pumps them in slowly, teasingly slow, coaxing your arousal to coat his fingers while you grind against his palm, eyes shut tight from the pulling knot in your stomach.

“It’s hard to fuck you when you’re a half-hour drive away.”

You scoff against him and roll your eyes. “I wonder why I got kicked out from the dorms in the first place.” Exactly two weeks ago, Megumi snuck in drunk and horny into your dorms, shaking you awake to get rid of his boner.

It was a sloppy quickie, mostly because he’s eaten brownies and got fuck drunk before stumbling beside your bed. The insensitive idiot left his rum bottle under your bed just as he wobbles back to his frat house, and as if things couldn’t get worse, there was a surprise dorm inspection the next day. Not only did they find cum stains all over your sheets, but your bed also reeked of weed and alcohol, resulting in a quick expulsion from the dorms.

If it weren’t for the help of one of your professors, Gojo-sensei, you wouldn’t have been able to find a decent, cheap apartment. It came with the price of rooming with one of his old acquaintances, a muscular, heavily tattooed guy who seemed to be a few years older than you.

He really wasn’t a bad roommate. Other than the fact he seemed really intimidating, the dude mostly kept to himself, either locked in his room or away for work that you don’t really get to see him that much. His place was decent too, your room bigger than the last, so it was a good deal, but as Megumi said, it’s really hard to fuck around when you’re so far away.

“Not my fault, you’re so weak for me, baby,” he taunts as you tighten around him, his pace increasing with his lips sucking love marks on your skin. You can’t help but snicker at his actions; if you didn’t know better, you’d say he was jealous.

But this was Megumi you were talking about – everyone knew he never got jealous.

“I don’t like you here.”

“Aw, sucks for you.”

“I’m serious,” he grips your waist tighter, drawing a drawled-out moan from you. Megumi rubs your clit with his thumb and swallows your moans through open-mouthed kisses, your fists balled into his hoodie. Fuck this, you’re completely aware he’ll never like you the way you like him, but it’s so hard to feel sad about that when he’s knuckle deep inside you and playing you like a violin. As much as you hated him and his pretty face, you have to admit his fingers were fucking magical.

Megumi nips at your lower lip before thrusting his fingers in and out of you at a numbing pace, not taking long until you’re creaming all over his hands. You pant at the orgasm, head falling back into his shoulder.

He brushes your hair away from your eyes and kisses the side of your head, the gesture way too sweet for someone who insisted on a ‘no-strings attached’ sexual relationship. But you don’t complain – this is like a dream come true for you – allowing him to leave a trail of kisses down your jaw instead, his wet hands squeezing your thighs in a possessive grip.

“You should just live with me. I’m not comfortable with the fact you live with a man.”

There’s a trace of jealousy behind his voice that you’d normally swoon at, but he’s pushing you to the edge and fucking around with your feelings so much that you can’t even enjoy the rare moment. You push yourself off him and reach for your discarded shorts on the floor, sliding the material over your legs while Megumi shamelessly stares at your ass behind you, his head resting on his hands.

“Megs, I barely even talk to the guy; he’s always away at work. You’ve really got nothing to worry about,” you tell him, making quick work of tidying your school packets just to ignore his heated gaze. “Besides, you and I aren’t even dating. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“You never hold back with your words, huh?”

You shot him a look, an angry glare that should be threatening, but the glint in his eyes just tells you he’s enjoying every second of it. “You like it.”

“Hmm, maybe I do,” Megumi tugs you back to the bed, effortlessly, as he flips you under him. In this position, he’s situated right between your bodies, hands clasped against one another. He’s absolutely stunning, bathed in the sliver of the moonlight, in your bed, no less. You’re a flurry of emotions – stuck between wanting to fuck him and kissing him, and then scream at him to let him know he should stop playing with your heart.

Megumi’s eyes darken as he traces over your silhouette, watching the way your chest falls heavily at his touches. He uses one hand to trace the tip of his finger from your breast down to your clothed core, a smirk painting his lips when you buck your hips up at the contact.

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him.

“Just promise me you’re not letting others see your pretty pussy okay?” he tugs your shorts to the side, tongue darting out to lick at his lips at the sight of your glistening folds. You’ve lost count of the times he’s made you cum tonight with just his fingers; the raging hard-on hidden behind his sweatpants is proof that he’s quite different today by letting you get fuck-drunk on him first. Perhaps it’s his way of keeping you so helplessly wrapped around his finger, fucking you good enough that no one else comes second to him, and he knows this. He sees this from the desire pooled in your eyes.

Megumi scoots down lower to stare at your pussy, which is already embarrassing since you’re so wet down there. He simply sighs at your bare cunt before him, using two fingers to pull the lips apart, followed by a groan at the apparent slick. “This is all mine.”

In your lust-filled haze, you scrunch your eyebrows and sneer, “How about you mind your own business?”

“The fuck did you just say?” he chuckled, his warm breath tickling your inner thighs. “You’re mine, babe. Haven’t I fucked you enough to drill in that in your pretty little head?” Megumi doesn’t waste his time diving straight to your eager, awaiting core. Your hands fly down to tug at his hair as you grind your hips to his face, legs weak from his lips wrapped tightly around your clit. “You know I’ll get mad if you touch anyone else.”

“Fuck off, Megumi,” you spat out, “We’ve been fooling around for a year, and you still refuse to date me every time I ask you out officially. Listen, I understand you’re not ready for that kind of relationship, so you could at least respect that you don’t get the exclusivity of keeping me all to yourself.” Truly, this rebellion is so uncalled for and unexpected. The moment you had your eyes on him and made it your life’s mission to win him over, not once had you complained that he never wanted to take things a step further. But it’s been too long, too fucking long, and too many no baby’s already – your pride was beyond crushed. It was about time you set the boundaries this time, and you quiver around his skillful tongue, strong and firm as you rasp, “I’ll fuck whoever I want.”

“You’re lying.”

“What?”

“You love me,” Megumi pulls away from your clit with an audible pop, his face glistening from the smeared juices all over his cheeks. However, his eyes are narrowed, almost as if he’s scrutinizing you. You can’t focus on the fact he denied you of your orgasm because he’s looking at you so seriously, only to tilt his head to the side, a smirk playing on his lips. “It’s written all over your face.”

“Maybe I do, but are you deserving of it?” you push his head away and ignore the aching in your chest. Megumi shuffles close to you, pulling you in for another cuddling session before you hide under the sheets, making it clear you were not to be touched anymore. “Go home, Megs. I’m tired.”

In all honesty, you want him to stay. You want him to fight harder to win your approval back. He’s not a big cuddler, more of the type to pass out beside you after he’s gotten his own orgasm, but you’ve been so sure that maybe he might be different today. Under the sheets, your lip trembles in anticipation, eyes blinking wide at the dark silhouette outside your metaphorical shield. But as Megumi playfully slaps your ass, his warmth leaving the bed, you’re not really surprised.

He never stayed the night before – why would he do that now?

Silly girl, you chastised yourself.

“Fine. But I’ll be back tomorrow,” you hear him scuffle for his shoes outside, a smile evident in his voice as his words float around the silence of your apartment. “Wear my favourite set like a good girl for me?”

“Go away!”

Megumi’s laughter echoes all the way to where you curl yourself into a ball. You hate that his laughter alone makes your heart skip a beat, even if it doesn’t carry any affection behind then. “See you then, baby,” is all he says before the door slams shut, leaving you alone to your thoughts and insecurities all over again.

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

You’ve really hit rock bottom; that’s the only explanation for your actions. Megumi was coming over in a few hours, unsurprising that he chooses 3 AM of all times. Not only did it mean his frat brothers would be asleep, but it also meant that his other side bitches would assume he’s doing the same. You know, of course, you fucking know you’re not the only one, but it didn’t hurt any less.

The pain just keeps getting worse every time you think of him, said thoughts always comprised with your shirt trapped between your teeth and your hands down your pants. There’s no denying you’re addicted to him, though being addicted to a never-ending heartbreak was a different story.

A story which you’re not ready to find out yet, so you dress up in your sexiest dress and take the nearest cab, heading to a place where you definitely shouldn’t be.

Two more hours before Megumi arrives. Two more hours before you fall into that endless cycle of fucking and him leaving you alone, promising he’ll be back tomorrow, before it all repeats and traces back to square one. He’s not going to stop, and neither are you, so where was any of this supposed to go now? He doesn’t want you, not in that way, that very much is clear – so why was it so hard to let go of him?

Deep down at the back of your mind, you know your answer. It’s because, like the lovesick fool you are, you’re still hoping that maybe someday he’ll look at you the way you look at him.

Fuck it, is all you think of as you flash the bouncer your ID, not missing the way his eyes fall down your tits that are so close to popping out of your dress a minute longer than welcomed. Snatching your card away from him, you push against the crowd, immediately regretting coming here as the loud thumping of music and stench of sex and alcohol washes over your senses.

You make a beeline for the empty bar, save for the bartender who had his back turned to you as he wipes the glasses over.

You clear your throat to make your presence known. The first thing you see is a broad back, thick lines of dark tattoos outlined even in his white button-up shirt. He places the glasses down and moves expertly before you, sliding shot glasses next to others before procuring a drink out of nowhere, a greeting about to leave his lips when you both make eye contact.

The drink stays still on his hands, blinking for a moment at your equally stupefied face before he says, “It’s you.”

“S-Sukuna,” you greet back, smiling at your roommate. You’ve barely seen the guy the past few weeks other than sleepy good morning’s, and I’ll take the trash out tonight before both of you disappeared into your own worlds.

Sukuna is...well, you don’t know, exactly. It’s not like he’s around much for you to make a proper judgment of, but he’s a pretty nice roommate, filling up the fridge whenever you guys run out of beer. There were times he nods at you as a greeting before leaving for work, too, leaving you alone at the house from midnight all the way to the morning. Other than thinking your roommate is pretty unique from his face tattoos and roguish handsomeness that contrasts his rather frequent sleepy mumbles, you’ve failed to realize he could actually be like a normal human. Seeing him stand before you, his forearms lined with veins and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, taut waist emphasized by a black vest, you swallow audibly.

He’s entirely different from the guy you often see passed out on the couch, but it’s a welcomed sight, nonetheless.

Sukuna’s actually...pretty hot.

Hiding the thumping of your heart – whether out of nervousness or it’s just trying to match the beat of the music – you beam up at him, eyes glossed over with curiosity as he reciprocates with a more mischievous grin.

If he’s easily read your mind that you are indeed attracted to him, he makes no comment about it, focusing on hearing your voice over the music instead.

He leans over to you, not pulling away even as your lips faintly graze his ear. Fuck, he’s got piercings too. You greedily drink in his masculine scent, thankful that the music thumping is so loud he won’t hear the frenzy mess inside your ribcage.

“I didn’t know you worked here. Heck, I didn’t know you were a bartender, but I guess the irregular sleep patterns make sense somehow.”

“What did you think I was, sweetheart?”

His deep voice reverberates all the way down to your toes, his throaty chuckle hoarse. “I-I don’t know,” you pull away nervously, blinking up at him way too innocently. “A gangster, to be honest,” you blurted out. Sukuna tilts his head to the side, and you immediately raise your hands beside your head as you mull over how offensive your words might’ve been. “I don’t mean anything offensive by it, I swear! It was just my first impression!”

“First impressions are usually false. Anyway. It’s fine,” he shrugs, resuming his task of wiping over the glasses.

His hands were so big, his fingers long and slender...your attention is drawn to the adept manner of how he wipes the cloth using the tip of his finger, reaching behind him to get another glass, all without keeping his eyes off of yours. It leaves much room to muse about what else he could do with those hands, and you squirm at your seat, opting to look at his face instead since that would be more polite than eye-fucking his hands.

Sukuna smirks, that cunning twinkle in his eyes matching the dim lights of the bar. Somehow, you suddenly feel so lightheaded.

“If it makes you feel better, I thought you were a shy girl at first, but your boy toy brings a different side of you every time he comes around.”

You squeak in embarrassment, “You’re home by then?!”

“Only sometimes,” he reassures with a laugh. “But I’ve heard enough,” Right. He’s older and definitely more experienced than your sexual escapades with Megumi – this must be nothing new to him by now, and yet, your skin flushes heated. “Don’t look too flustered, sweetheart. It’s not the first time I’ve heard of that,” he nods at you, “You don’t look very happy with him, though.”

“Tch, now you’re assessing my relationship status?”

“I don’t have to,” he shrugs, the gesture so damn reassured. Chuckling at your apparent frown, Sukuna shakes his head to himself. “It’s written all over your face you’re not satisfied with something. You wouldn’t be here if you were feeling good in the first place.”

“How much have you heard?”

“Oh, I don’t care about how you scream his name. That’s none of my business,” he grumbles under his breath rather bitterly – but that could just be the music messing with you. Sukuna holds your gaze as he sets the final glass down before you, his elbows languidly resting on the counter that separates you both. You’re left staring at him in wonder, watching the way he pours the drink right in front of you, the movement of his lips so intoxicating and even erotic you nearly didn’t hear him say, “But as your roommate, I wish you’d stop inviting him around and just kick him out already. He doesn’t like you, you know.”

He doesn’t like you. Megumi doesn’t like you – you know that already.

Glare deepening at your surprisingly nosy roommate, you take the glass from him and down it in one go. Sukuna’s brows shot up in awe, arms crossed against his puffed-out chest as you slam the glass down.

You were fuming.

“You don’t know a single fucking thing about me.”

“That’s right, I don’t,” he answers without skipping a beat, “But we men, we understand each other,” You open your mouth to retort, silenced by Sukuna’s finger pressing against your lips. You freeze at the contact, and Sukuna makes use of your state, continuing right where he left from.

“Listen, take it from me as free advice. I’ll even put your drink on the house.”

Really, nothing is stopping you from biting off this guy’s finger, but he looks like he knows something you don’t that you just choose to keep your mouth shut.

Satisfied at your decision, Sukuna smiles sweetly, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear. The gesture puts you under his spell, and he lingers there a little longer, massaging the lobes of your ears before he pulls back just as fast, almost as if he never touched you in the first place.

You fight back the urge to huff.

Why were men so complicated? One moment, they were hot, then cold the next. You would just never get it.

“That guy you’ve been mooning over for who knows how long? He doesn’t give a fuck about you. You’re just someone who warms his cock every now and then, but I guarantee he’s thinking about someone else in his head when he’s with you,” he announces straightforwardly, not giving you the time to recover before he shrugs like his words didn’t just slap you in the face. “Just call quits on him, sweetheart. There’s really no need to waste such a pretty face. Ever heard of the saying – there’s plenty of fish in the sea?” he pushes another drink to you, “Drink up and loosen a little. With a face and body like that, you’ll find someone better soon.”

“I highly doubt I can find someone better when all everyone sees is my appearance.”

“I don’t,” he hinted with dark eyes, “But I assure you it might be what people see first. You do have a face of an angel; men are into that shit.”

Taking the drink from him with a loud sigh, you feel yourself weaken. You bury your head in your hands, replaying all the memories you’ve had with Megumi. It’s foreseeable that almost all of them consisted of you two fucking, nothing but a faint memory of two where Megumi actually cared enough to perform aftercare. The thought makes you wince; he really is an ass, but you’re also so hopelessly infatuated with him that you refuse to acknowledge the truth.

“Megs and I...we’re just complicated, okay?”

“Sure.”

“I swear!” your defenses are hopelessSukuna’s knowing smirk, the man holding back a snigger from your silent rage. “Besides, maybe his disinterested nature is what made me attracted to him in the first place. I like the mystery. It’s not bad for a girl to enjoy searching for answers every now and then.”

“Except he’s already given you a concrete no, and you’re the only one still hanging onto him,” he reminds you. At your dropped jaw, Sukuna has the audacity to wink. That motherfucker –“Pressed a button, kitten?” he pats your head, leaving you to be even more riled up. “Don’t be sad. It’s not like he’s the only guy who can make you feel good.” As if a light bulb went up in his head, Sukuna hid his smile by turning his back to you, pretending to be engrossed in the drinks all laid out in front of him. But even with his face obscured from your view, his words rang thick and clear: “In fact, I bet you your cute ass someone else can change your former perspective on what pleasure really is.”

“Yeah, like who?” you snorted sarcastically, “You?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” he faces you, absolutely shameless as he eyes your cleavage. Sukuna clenches his jaw at the tempting view before him, sliding his gaze back to yours to look for the answers in your face. “If you want a demonstration, that is.”

Sukuna hasn’t really touched you or even spoke explicitly, but you’re breathing hard anyways, subconsciously clawing the countertop.

You don’t know if it’s your voice or his that’s ringing your ears, the words what’s holding you back? the last thing you hear before grabbing him by the collar, leaning over the counter to taste his lips. Sukuna smiles at the kiss, his large hands cupping your face in them. His thumb traces circles over your jaw as you greedily suck on his lip, uncaring that you’re making out with your roommate in a public place.

As if remembering that he’s still at work, Sukuna pulls away for a moment, diving in for one last peck that has you giggling adorably. Sukuna’s grin grows wider at your flushed cheeks, snapping his fingers at someone from a distance. “Geto, break!”

The guy who must be Geto popped his head out of the backroom, frowning at Sukuna’s words when his gaze lands on you and the not-so-subtle needy grip you have on Sukuna’s collar. His mouth forms into an ‘o’ shape before he gives a thumb up, disappearing afterward.

That’s all Sukuna needs before he’s leaving the counter, breathing in your panicked squeals as he picks you up, your legs flailing to wrap around his.

You’re giggling and laughing all the way to the back of the club, your hands tugging at his undercut and his own squeezing at your ass. Sukuna kicks the door of the restroom open, which is thankfully clean (you made the right choice choosing a luxurious club), settles you down before him, and locking the stall.

His lips are on yours in an instant, his hands tugging off your dress and scowling at it as if it’s offensive. “Calm down,” you tease him, “They didn’t do anything wrong.”

“They were a fucking tease the whole night,” he glares at the lacy cups of your bra, his breathing laboured as he cups them. You throw your head back until it thumps at the door, teeth muffling the moans that threaten to erupt. Sukuna unclasps the material in one swift movement, surprising with just how many times he’s done this before. “Fucking gorgeous tits – why the fuck does your boy toy not want to keep you to himself?”

“He’s – oh fuck,” you scrape Sukuna’s scalp, his tongue wrapping around the swollen bud. He caresses the other one not to leave it unattended, and he’s grinding you against the door so hard, his dick poking at your dress leaving very little to the imagination.

Sukuna chuckles at your broken response, rutting his hips in such a sensual manner you didn’t think he was capable of. “You were saying?”

You glare at him from under your chin, but he can’t take you seriously while he’s sucking at your tit like a child. This man is brave enough to nip it with his teeth, the sting making you hiss and buck against him. “He’s possessive,” you breathe through your mouth, a little in disbelief you’re casually thinking about him while Sukuna gets down on his knees. “He wants me to be exclusive with him, but he’s free to fuck who he pleases.”

Sukuna rubs both palms in front of his face as if preparing to devour a meal, which he’ll do so soon enough. He pushes your dress and bunches it at your waist, tugging your underwear to the side before he groans. The sound is so deep and masculine, so utterly frustrated for some reason you can’t understand.

“Now that’s unfair,” he mumbles absentmindedly, peppering your pelvis with kisses. The feverish touch of his warm lips on your already burning skin has you clutching at the door, feeling your legs weaken.

His eagerness and distrait acts of body worship drive you crazy. Megumi is good at making you feel desired and fuckable – that much you know from his habits of pushing his pants down at pretty much anywhere as long as you were around, claiming you’re a walking ‘boner trigger.’ Sukuna, on the other hand, was a lot more patient and attentive to his movements, taking the time to make you feel you were more than just a body and a hole. It’s odd, hella fucking odd, because this man is older than you and a friend of your professors, but did you care? No. Did you want him to fuck your brains out in a public restroom? Fuck yes.

A wanton moan paints the wall as Sukuna slides your thong off just above your knee, his eyes closed as he buries his cheek in it. You look down with wide eyes, hands grabbing at nothing and everything at the same time. From the looks of it, he’s sniffing your sex, the sight so outright erotic that you only moan louder.

How was it possible to be this much turned on?

By the time he’s opened his eyes, his entire demeanour’s shifted. Gone was the enthusiastic and sly bartender, now replaced with a much more animalistic entity residing beside it.

Before you could make yourself comfortable, Sukuna hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, the tip of your heel grazed against the tight walls of the stall. He licks a flat stripe from your hole that clenches around nothing, moving upwards in such a passionate, languid manner he’s making you forget you’re literally in a fucking restroom. Your breasts heave up and down from how you’re struggling to breathe, his tongue pushing past through the tight ring of resistance until he’s plunged through your core. You wobble above him, remaining upright only by his arm pushing your back flat on your under boob.

Sukuna slurps at your cunt yearningly, the hums he gives every now and then, making your core vibrate. You grind your pussy on his face, the black marks lined on his face glistening.

He moves to suck at your clit, transitioning after each beat to slurping the swollen bud and kissing your lips as if he was making out with it. You’re sure you’re making a mess on his face, but he doesn’t give you time to feel embarrassed about it. He spreads your legs further until your muscles ache from the stretch, the pain accompanied by your stomach tightening.

“S-Sukuna, oh, oh yeah,” you bang your fist on the door, his smug chuckles sending you over the edge. Your pupils blow wide as you feel the impending orgasm weigh down on you heavily, about to send you into overdrive by his tongue swiping at your lips, teasing you to give it to him more, give it to him harder. Turning your head down to warn him you’re coming, the words die on your throat because he’s already looking at you, his cheeks and nose smothered with your shining slick, and the brat is smirking. “Shit, you’re a little—” Sukuna cuts you off by generously sucking your clit one more time, pulling the muscle taut just to show you that it’s rolling between his lips. It looks fucking insane and filthy that you come right there and then.

Your orgasm is so strong that you actually slip from your heels. A scream from you is knocked back into you just as fast, Sukuna moving quick and graceful in one fluid movement. He catches your leg and shoves you against the door, gripping at your hips until you’re bending forward, ass perked, and wiggling just for him.

For a split second, you’re sure you hear the unbuckling of a belt, but it all fades in your clouded mind.

Sukuna enters you in one thrust, the sensation of being filled up so soon rendering you speechless. Literally absolutely silent, palms flat on the door and tongue lolled out, all the burning in your body focused on your centre.

He releases a grunt at finally being inside your plush, warm walls. Sukuna allows you to get used to his length for a solid minute, both of you catching your breath in the meantime. Your tits are sprawled out, and you’re a shaky mess, feeling nothing less of dirty yet so aroused that you can’t do anything about it. Sukuna thrusts in slowly at first, and that’s when you feel the size difference between him and Megumi. Megs was definitely blessed in the dick department, and he’s always been so cocky about it, but goddamn, Sukuna was beyond huge.

You think you could cum again just from him filling you up. He was stretching you out so well that he leaves behind a faint burn, making you feel as if it’s your first time all over again – all for the good reasons.

He soon begins to set his pace, one of his hands tugging at your ponytail so he could see your glossy eyes and mouth hanging open. Sukuna scoffs at your fucked out state, too cock-hungry even to form coherent sentences. His length is slipping past your folds in such a tantalizing, delicious state, the prominent veins of his cock kissing the bumpy ridges of your walls. He was right – you’re definitely changing your perspective on pleasure because you don’t think you’ve felt this good in your life.

With Megumi, it was mostly always about his own release. With Sukuna, he’s making sure you get to feel inch by luscious inch slipping out of you before he slides them back in, his deep moans the dirtiest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Aw, look at you,” he coos, kissing you sideways sloppily. Sukuna reaches the edges of your lips but licks at your skin anyway. His canines revealed to graze at your skin. It’s so animalistic, so carnal, and he’s fucking you with such primal need that you forget everything you once knew about sex. “Your pretty pussy is drooling for cock, sweetheart. Such a dirty little thing, taking me like this.”

Now, this was lust as its purest form, the rhythm of his hips so sinful you’ve lost faith in everything but how he’s making you feel.

The walls are pounding with the bass boosting outside, but soon even the loud volume of the synthesized music is drowned by your whimpers. Sukuna lets go of your hair to place his hands on your hips. If he was dominant before, he only encourages you to scream his name louder, realizing that he was still being nice seconds ago, but now he’s the one controlling you.

He pounds roughly into you until you’re crying, your drool dribbling from your lips and small patches dropping to the floor. It’s the same with your cunt. You’re so wet that you can feel squirts of cum staining his pants and your legs. Sukuna doesn’t stop praising you on how you’re so perfect, how your cunt is the tightest he’s ever fucked, and now he gets why your boy toy could never really let you go. In the middle of it all, he manages to slip in a comment that maybe Megumi’s dick isn’t big enough to stretch you out because you’re wrapped around him like a vice, to which you respond that he’s just massive.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” he agrees cockily, eyes narrowed at where his length kept being swallowed by your pussy. “I’m fucking destroying you, sweetheart. You’ll be broken by the end of this, fuck.”

His words are like ambrosia you’re getting drunk on, the filthiness of his mouth fuelling your desire. Your body heats up at the same time that familiar tingling tightens in your stomach, and you blindly stretch your arm out behind him. Sukuna easily reads your mind and takes your hand, looping his fingers with yours. His palm is right above your knuckle, and the angle hurts your arm so bad you cry harder.

“Please, please, please,” you beg him and snap your hips back to meet his dick thrust by thrust, “I’m so fucking close, please—”

“I got you, sweetheart,” he leans down for a quick peck at your hand, increasing his pace as he twitches inside you. Sukuna is thrown off rhythm by the way you grip down on his dick harder, his breath stuttering as a result. You wrap your fingers around him as your second orgasm that night crashes down onto you in waves, his cock on the brink of being spent from how you’re milking him.

He pounds deep and slow into you, relishing in the warmth of your cunt that he’s losing his mind, basically in the same state as you are now. You’re panting and sweating, cursing at each thrust, and he stills for a moment, pulling out so fast that you wince at the emptiness. Sukuna pumps his dick with his free hand and shoots his load onto your back, his moans guttural and hoarse. You grimace at the warm cum now coating your back because there’s no way you’re using your dress to wipe that away.

Sukuna chuckles at your silence, probably noting in the way you frown at him. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he runs a hand through his hair, his cock growing hard despite releasing a huge load. “Next time, I’ll cum in your mouth. I want to see you swallow me like a good girl.”

“Next time?”

You think you’re so sly by scoffing at him, but Sukuna isn’t stupid. He sees the way you light up at his implications, and he walks closer to you, a hand wrapped around your throat before you pull you flush against his chest. You gasp at the lack of air, blindly patting behind you, but your hand only grazes at his cock, which twitches excitedly at the contact.

“Yeah, next time,” he affirms with a low growl, licking from your jaw down to your neck. It’s so hot, he’s so hot, and you’ve never felt this sexy in your life that you soon become on par with him, pussy clenching around nothing. “I’m not done with you yet. You’re not leaving unless I’ve changed your mind,” he teases the base of your throat to squeeze it tighter, the swift movement of him filling you once more escalating to a tenfold. Your struggle to breathe causes you to clamp down on him hard and Sukuna’s chuckles falter into a quick inhale that’s so satisfying to witness. “What do you think? Still need more demonstrations?”

“Yes,” you choke out. Sukuna’s victorious and award-winning smile is hidden at the sweaty column of your neck where he leaves little kisses in its wake, ones that soon turn into something of a harsh bite. “Yes, please, show me more. Need you, need you so bad, you fuck me better than he does.”

Sukuna does more than show you that night. He makes you feel a thousand more nerves set on fire until you’re nothing but a moaning mess. After all, what better way to change someone’s mind than to mess with it on the inside?

In the end, when it comes down to it, your lies were way too sweet – and he was too addicted to make you stop.

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

Small Bits of Memory

Characters: Scaramouche, gn!reader

Word Count: 1,531

Warnings: None

Premise: Little moments between Scaramouche and the reader.

Author’s Note: Warning, I’m not caught up on the archon quest. I did skim the wiki (which made me kinda sad ngl), but if there are inaccuracies, that’s why. I also may have made Scaramouche a bit sappy because of this.

I took “comfort” to mean “hurt/comfort” so if some of these are a bit melancholic it’s because angst brain does not turn off.

Scaramouche

Scaramouche is well familiar with nightmares. He knows the feeling of opening yours eyes in the dark, not moving, not crying out or sitting up; simply opening your eyes as the latent fear of your dreams finally catch up with you and finally your breathing starts to speed in your chest, as your finally realize how afraid you were. Thus on the first night he wakes to you staring intently at the darkness around you, still to the point of stiffness, he automatically understands what’s going on.

At first he’s too scared to wrap his arms around you, afraid that you’ll find the action frightening, or that you’ll instinctively reject him. He only reaches out his hand, secretly relieved when you entwined your fingers within his. Feeling vaguely sentimental in his tired state he whispers: “I’ll protect you from the dark, so stop staring and go back to sleep.” He hopes that you won’t tease him about it tomorrow, as some small part of him knows that it was a very silly thing to say.

Afterwards he grows a little bolder, inching closer to you, then letting one arm rest on your shoulder, fingers featherlight on your skin. Thankfully your penchant for nightmares isn’t too great, so it’s about two months before he wakes up the next day to his arms wrapped around you, you nestled within his sleepy embrace. Seeing you sleeping peacefully after the look of uncomprehending panic plastered across your features the night before calms him like few other things, and he sighs peacefully, letting his eyes flit closed once more. The two of you sleep in that day.

Scaramouche always panics slightly whenever you get hurt. It could be a paper cut, it could be a bruise, it could be a battle injury, his response is relatively similar each time. You might squirm as he cleans your cut off for the third time in ten minutes, assuring him that you aren’t going to die, but he isn’t truly listening to you. There’s a glazed look in his eyes, and it takes him a few moments to register that you’re calling his name. You worry about it sometimes, you wonder what might happen if you were to truly injure yourself. You hope he wouldn’t blame himself too much. Scaramouche has a surprising penchant towards self-flagellation, when he’s not telling himself that he’s superior to everyone around him.

Scaramouche has never horsed around in a river, never experienced a snowball fight, never watched a sunrise for the sake of it. He was not created for such things after all. It’s hard for him to imagine enjoyment in the little pieces of universal humanity, perhaps because he feels somehow separated from such a privilege. You start keeping a list of these sorts of things, small moments to enjoy. He finds the idea silly at first, but gradually grows to like the experience. Perhaps not the individual activities, but the experience as a whole. He might not understand the “universal human experience” as you call it, but the snow against his skin is cold and clear, and the sun looks like fire in the sky, and you’re smiling next to him, and all is well in the world.

Scaramouche doesn’t have much attachment to Inazuma, considering it a desolate land where the people survive despite, not because of, the land. He has no love for the plains, or the skinny forests, or the craggy rocks and hills. The flowers glow preternaturally, and the electricity that fills the air makes unpleasant crackling noises. Nevertheless he has to admit a fondness for the cherry blossoms that bloom on Narukami Islands. It’s as if a small sliver of beauty managed to scrape its way into the world. He’ll take you to see them sometimes, regardless of his status as a Harbinger and a general menace. Perched amidst the falling petals you remind him of some sort of spirit from folklore. If he could draw well at all he thinks he would make a portrait of you surrounded by those blossoms. Certainly there’d be nothing else worth painting.

The two of you like to read together, Scaramouche going over whatever plans he’s currently focusing on, you curled up with a book. If you find a passage or a quote you particularly like you’ll tap him on the shoulder, and Scaramouche will duly listen to you read it aloud. He likes the sound of your reading voice, the way it varies slightly from when you talk. Unfortunately he made the mistake of telling you that once, and you began to insist that he read for you. Though he secretly enjoys doing so, he still grumbles about it out of habit. The both of you know he’s only doing it for show.

Scaramouche once caught you using a broom like a sword. Though you looked very drunk he secretly found it endlessly endearing. He offered to teach you some basic sword forms (despite his weapon knowing swordplay is a basic requirement for all Fatui soldiers). You accepted eagerly at the time, unaware of how much you’d underestimated Scarmouche’s fervor when it came to training. It took a wooden sword snapped in half for him to lay off a little bit, but at least his troops started dropping hints at you that they no longer feared for their lives. Though you think they were joking, you were still glad for the learning experience. You two still spar every once in a while though.

Living up to his title of “Balladeer” Scaramouche has quite the haunting voice. Not particularly high, his range still has a natural warmth to it that belies his cold exterior. You almost never catch him actually singing. The first time it happened was when you had a migraine. Refusing to leave your tent – you hadn’t actually convinced him you weren’t dying – he seemed torn between boredom and worry. At first it was a mere hum, but soon enough it morphed into a captivating song. He refused to tell you the name of it, claiming he’d forgotten, and refused to bring it up the next morning. Still sometimes you’ll catch him now and then humming out a tune, usually when he’s reading or if you’re sick or upset. His singing is something you associate with comfort.

Scaramouche is a terrible letter writer. If you send him ten letters while he’s away he’ll send you three. Still what he lacks in quantity he makes up for in word count. Curt in his official reports, his letters to you are pure stream-of-consciousness, captivating whatever he’s thinking about at the time. Usually the letters are somewhat sappy (or surprisingly bold) missives on how much he loves you and misses you, somehow more honest than when he speaks to you face-to-face. Still you’ve also gotten quite used to a thousand words on how much he hates his fellow Harbingers. You don’t mind, keeping all his letters to you in a box. Though he claims to burn yours, he does the same.

Scaramouche always tell you the days he’s leaving and the days he’s returning. Sometimes he’ll have it down to an estimated hour. Though he appreciates the pomp and spectacle of appearing around others unannounced – something he does quite a bit when working – he refuses to keep you in a limbo of waiting. Secretly he’s also always afraid you might not show up on the docks one day, and every time he sees your face after a long time away a weight lifts in his chest, the pressure on his soul just a little easier to bear every time.

Scaramouche has always felt most comfortable at night. When the world sleeps, when he has the advantage of being awake, being alert, being more powerful. When there are fewer eyes on him, and he can even tell himself that he is the only one awake in the world, can indulge in those moments of wondering, wondering whether he has ever felt something, whether he is missing a crucial piece. Whether he has ever been happy, whether he wants to be so. He can be vulnerable at night, and thus is the reason it appealed to him so much.

Now the night is his favorite time of day because he can always be near you at that time. If you two are in the same land, then you will spend the night in the same room, the same tent, the same bed. Listening to the sound of your breathing, letting himself revel in your closeness, your arms wrapped around his waist, or his wrapped around you, Scaramouche feels truly content. Perhaps he is even happy, perhaps this is what happiness is, what love is. Perhaps it is something more than that, something undefinable, something too abstract to put into words. He loves you, he realizes to himself, he loves you so much. It is overwhelming, like a tidal wave, yet it does not frighten him. He could be struck by lightning and it would not frighten him. It will in the daytime, but now is the night, and now he can marvel peacefully at the fact that he truly loves you.

#made myself emotional with this #genshin impact #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin scaramouche #genshin impact fanfiction #headcanons #requested #my writing

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aerosiderwrites · 3 years

Text

Archery Practice ... Yandere Childe x Harbinger!Reader

warnings for genre typical portrayals of unhealthy relationships... ngl childe is kinda tame in this one tho

Word Count: 2k

Mid-evening tended to be an unpopular time to train. Most were having dinner, finishing their work day, and getting ready for as restful night as possible in the frigid climate of Snezhnaya. You typically would as well, but with a lot to reflect on and frustrated energy, you brushed off the snow on your person as you entered a Fatui training facility. You gave a quiet greeting to the guards who manned the building, who stood at attention at your arrival. You paid them no second thought as you began to navigate the pristine building.

You followed a path down the corridors you knew by heart, as even years before your ascension to being a Harbinger you found yourself here more than at home whenever your weren’t on assignment. Most windows into the various gyms were dark, and the ones with people in them had young recruits of little consequence to you.

You turned a corner when you heard someone calling for you. You processed the distinct voice as Childe, the most recent addition to the Harbingers. You ignored him, hoping that your increase in pace would not catch his attention. You mentally pleaded that he would avoid the archery range in favor of the other combat gyms.

He didn’t stop, as he never did, as his voice continued to come your way. You closed your eyes in weak attempt to hide your wince as he addressed you by name, by your real name, not your Harbinger title as the other nine would.

You stopped dead and turned to where he was trailing behind you and gave him your attention, unfortunately rewarding his bad behavior, “Titles only, Childe.”

“I wasn’t sure you could hear me” Childe responded, now standing tall right in front of you, his smile still the same, ignoring or otherwise completely unbothered by the standoffishness on your end. “I wanted to see if you wanted to spar while you’re here.”

Like clockwork. Every damn time you came in here and he was here too he’d ask. Each time you’d say no. Each time he’d hover around you until one of you had to leave. It had worked for the other Harbingers, as he now paid them no mind but for whatever reason, he still engaged with you. Tonight, you hoped your verifiable excuse and unfriendly aura would be the last straw for him.

“I’m just going to be doing target practice today,” you said, hoping to deter him. “I don’t want to do anything too strenuous today.”

“Oh you are? Do you mind if I join you?”

You blinked, “I didn’t know you knew how to use a bow,” you verbally dug your heels into the ground, even though you knew he could just walk into the range and practice along side you if he so wanted. There were no restrictions to who could use what when, but you desperately wished he would take a hint and leave you alone.

“I’ve been practicing on my own more recently, actually,” explained Childe, “And considering you’re the best archer among us, I can’t imagine having a better training partner.”

You narrowed your eyes at his compliment, while delivered earnestly, you couldn’t help but interpret his words as being subtly facetious. Since Childe sidestepped your frustrated hint with ease, you relented with a sigh, “Do as you please.”

The two of you headed to an archery range, Childe walking along side you, while you stewed in silent annoyance. So much for introspection time.

No one quite knew how to pester quite like Tartaglia. It was the popular opinion among the other Harbingers that the 11th was obnoxious. While you and your contemporaries preferred to work in the shadows and keep the often extreme extents of your servitude to your Archon hush-hush, Tartaglia, or Childe, as he preferred, ended up with a style that was far more akin to a performance. However, unlike most performers, he would make sure that his performance would be the last his audience would ever see.

You stopped in front of a door to the small range, opening it up unceremoniously, and Childe followed close behind. The room lit up, and illuminating the long room with three suspended targets, at three distances. Even with the unwanted company, you stretched and warmed up on autopilot, the silence between you and Childe surprisingly comfortable.

You glanced over, Childe having gone through his warm up routine faster than you. He had called his bow already, and you found yourself gawking at the absolutely abysmal posture he held as he aimed at the closest target, the one on the far left.

His shoulders were hunched and his bow hand gripped the bow in such a way that seemed entirely unsustainable. The arrow sat flimsy in his drawing hand, the only saving grace of the shot being the strength with Childe drew, which was borderline disturbing. You weren’t sure if he was showing off, or if he genuinely didn’t know to hold back.

You held your tongue as you watched him fire the shot, your eyes barely able to follow as the arrow swiftly embedded itself deep into the target, although the hit was only one by the smallest of margins

You watched him fire two more arrows, the second being a ring outside of the bullseye, and the third a near miss from the top. Both would be a challenge to pull from the targets as the fletching of the arrows were barely all that stuck out.

“See, I have a problem with being consistent in the hits I land,” Childe sighed, aware that you were observing, “What would you recommend?”

You took a deep inhale, “I think most children who pick up bows for the first time don’t have posture as bad as you.”

Childe flinched, his body language exaggerated, a pout resembling a kicked puppy having formed on his face, “Cut me some slack, I’m self taught!”

You remained unrelenting in your onslaught, “That’s obvious,” you scoffed, “You put way to much strength into the draw, especially when you can barely hold the bow itself. I’m amazed you hit the target at all.”

As as satisfying as it was to drag his form through the mud, Childe’s hurt expression only seemed to deepen, and you let yourself be worn down. “Draw the empty string, I’ll tell you what you need to fix.”

He did as you asked, and you rationalized to yourself that you were ultimately helping the Tsaritsa if you assisted Childe here. If he were ever stuck in a situation where he could only use a bow, you didn’t want him to be caught with his pants down. As invasive as he was, you didn’t want him to die or anything.

You lightly tapped his upper back, “Don’t hunch.” He fixed himself quickly. You moved his elbow up on his drawing arm, and went around to bend his elbow on his bow arm, going in quickly, and touching his as little as possible. You gave explanations for why each mistake would be detrimental for any kind of combat, and how to develop instinctive shooting, while making him maintain proper posture.

You were surprised how well he seemed to internalize what you explained, and you didn’t stop yourself from going into more detail than was feasibly retainable, but he stayed attentive, and showed a passion you weren’t expecting. You eased into a comfortable rhythm, and with rudimentary fixes, Childe was able to improve.

Time passed quickly, your engagement far more than either of you had expected. Childe had been trying to gauge you for a long time, but your persistence into giving him as little as possible became entertaining in and of itself. He enjoyed the open resentment of the other Harbingers, and before you had let your shell crack, he had enjoyed yours just as much.

Your patience with any mistakes was unexpected, your exasperation and irritation with his presence having dissipated entirely as you focused on helping him despite yourself. It was endearing seeing this side of you, a side that showed itself with surprisingly little prodding or string-pulling. It felt… natural, and unfortunately for you, it was also very endearing.

“Hey, [Y/N],” he started, interrupting a demonstration you had started about sights, earning a surprised look from you as he got your attention.

It took a split second, but you noticed he used your name instead of your title, your guard went back up, and you narrowed your eyes at him, “Don’t speak informally with me, use my title, Tartaglia.” You hissed out, using his official title instead of his preferred to emphasize your distance.

“Why? You can call me Ajax,” he offered, testing the barrier you set up. He hid his surprise when you hesitated, pursing your lips. He saw through how you tried to treat him apathetically, and forced yourself to be unkind to him. You were so much softer than you wanted anyone else to be privy to, and Childe was excited to exploit it.

In your own head, you had reached a conclusion that you weren’t sure he had reached, or if he even noticed in himself. You could have been way off, but as someone so at odds with his peers, seen as a tool by his superior, and feared by enemies and underlings alike, the pieces fit in your head and spelled out the fact that Childe was probably lonely.

Realizations clicked together quickly upon this conclusion, but you kept them to yourself.

“I won’t,” you maintained, refusing to let up. You couldn’t stop sympathy and understanding from now changing the tint of your interactions or how you viewed them, but you didn’t have to let him know any of that. Childe wasn’t your business, no matter how much he wanted to be.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Childe cooed, holding back a patronizing urge to pinch your angry cheeks, “I just wanted to ask why you’re helping me, since you seem to dislike me so much.”

You shifted your weight where you stood, “I don’t think you’d leave me alone either way.”

“That hasn’t stopped you from ignoring me before.”

Resentment bubbled in your chest, “So you are aware that you’re a pest.”

“Only because I like you.”

You were baffled that he could just say something that familiar, and you hoped any warmth that showed itself on you wouldn’t be interpreted as anything other than embarrassment on his behalf. “Well, stop.”

Childe seemed more amused than anything at your words, it only feeding into his idea that you’re just playing hard to get, “Am I really so unlikable?”

“You have no idea.” Any understanding you gained during your interactions being emotionally tossed to the wayside as your couldn’t bring yourself to care about someone with such a deliberate lack of regard for boundaries.

You disarmed yourself and made way to the door, pulling it open only for it to shut fast before you could blink. Your eyes followed the gloved hand that slammed it shut, Childe now far closer than you have ever let him get before.

You didn't want to turn around, and when you did you found yourself regretting it. His eyes were cold, completely unamused at your intent to leave while he was enjoying your company so much. He didn't mind a chase, but he needed you to realize that he was serious, and very difficult to deter.

If being pleasant and fun wouldn't get you to loosen up, he could change his approach until you changed your mind.

It had been a very long time since you felt this small. You’ve always been aware of Childe’s strength, but at the end of the day, despite his irritating nature, he was an ally. Or was. In that moment you looked up to see his lighthearted facade disappear so completely, you understood that regardless of your allegiance to your Archon, he was a threat.

“Don’t go, I still have so much I’d like to learn from you, [Y/N].”

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader #aerosiderwriting #ive been sitting on this for a while... sorryyy #its a lil messy n self indulgent but this was for Me anyway so [blows kisses to myself] for u beloved #see yall in another 4547589 months /j (hopefully)

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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

written in the stars

w/c: 2.7k

warnings: jus (lots of) making out

summary: using your newly acquired knowledge of astrology, you test your compatibility with tom

a/n: i was planning on making this a little blurb for y’all but then i got really into it and here we are lmfhfksjks i promise you don’t have to know anything about astrology or birth charts to enjoy cuz i broke it all down + it’s not the main focus of the fic anyways! this is mostly a day in the life with tommy boy and i hope you like it as much as i do :,) also some of this might be wrong.. i’m not an expert so yeah

•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡

“right, so how does this work again?” tom watches your laptop screen with curious eyes.

you’ve been getting into astrology lately, and whatever you care about, so does he. that’s why you’re currently laid across your bed in sweats while you teach him everything you know. but first, you’ll need to do his birth chart. it’s the pinnacle of everything.

“you just have to tell me what time you were born, then it does the rest for me,” you grin, typing in the name of the website. you’d had to do some research to find a reliable one. “that’s it? you don’t need, like, my birthday or something?” tom quirks an eyebrow at the chart generator.

“i already know your birthday, babes.” you laugh softly and let your head fall onto his shoulder. “you crazy gemini.” “‘m not crazy.” he smiles despite himself, leaning his head on yours. “just got a big personality, innit? charming, clever, lots of energy,” he lists off the characteristics of his sign, which you just taught him. that lights up your whole face.

“definitely not cocky,” you deadpan, tom scrunching his nose in response. “look at you, remembering all that. you really are clever.” “well, it’s interesting.” he drapes an arm around you, fingers running up and down your side. “i quite like the idea of the universe knowing me so well.”

tapping your fingers on the keys, you hum. “you’ll love your birth chart, then. tell me when you were born.” tom grimaces and squeezes at your waist. “i don’t actually know.” “how do you not know?” you flick his back playfully, making him flinch. he pokes you so you’re even. “i’ve never thought to ask. guess i’m not that clever after all.”

those are teasing words, but you press a reassuring kiss to his cheek. he gladly accepts it and gives you one on the side of your neck.

“no, your head’s gigantic. there’s gotta be something up there.” you knock on his skull for emphasis, your hand tangling in his hair. tom lets out a breathy chuckle. “hot air,” he explains as your fingers run through the messy locks. “you’re so...” you don’t even have the words. tom does. “hilarious? witty? amusing?” he tries to finish, tilting his head back to look at you.

“yeah, all of the above,” you confer and bring your hand back down to the keyboard. your lips curve into a smirk when tom whines. he’s the biggest baby, and he makes no attempt to hide it. “why don’t you text your mom and ask for your time of birth?” you suggest, tom pursing his lips in agreement. “sure, i’ll give mum a ring. i bet she loves this stuff, too.”

you roll over to lay on your back, tom still on his stomach. he pulls his phone from his pocket and opens imessage. “ah, nikki’s an astrogirl?” you wonder. tom makes a funny face at the term. “is that what you call yourselves?” “not really. well, not officially.” giggling, you loop your fingers around his wrist. “you can be an astroboy, if you want. or girl.”

tom sighs and leans over so his face hovers above yours. “god, you’re adorable. how are you so cute?” he gently pecks your lips. you’re about to kiss back, then he moves off to your cheek. after that is your forehead, chin, and finally down the bridge of your nose. it leaves you out of breath from laughter and with warm skin.

“i can’t answer that if you’re gonna launch a kiss attack on me-“

tom’s lips capture yours in a proper kiss, which you now get the chance to reciprocate. you hold him in place with your hands on his cheeks. his eyes instantly flutter closed and lashes tickle your face. the feeling draws another giggle out of you, and right into his mouth.

“absolutely gorgeous,” tom mutters against your lips. “anyone ever tell you that?” “you do, tommy. all the time.” your voice comes out gravelly, breathless, a grin painting your face. it transfers to tom. “mm, that’s right. my pretty baby.” he’s beaming down at you. he moves on top of you swiftly, his weight held up by his elbows on your sides.

you pull apart so you can go back in harder, hands situating in his curls again. tom grabs at your hips while the kiss deepens. your legs wrap around his waist clad in joggers and allow your bodies to be even closer together. the less space between you two, the needier you both get. “love,” tom parts his lips for you. “can i get a little more?” “course you can, tommy.” your fingers tug at his curls, mouth opening slightly.

his tongue skims its way across your lower lip, asking for access. you give his hair another pull to grant it. tom lets his tongue slip into your mouth, searching for your own as his hands continue to roam your body. he’s gone from gently peppering you in kisses to fully eating your face. no complaints, though. a quiet whimper escapes you when your tongues clash.

tom starts to push up your t-shirt, eyes opening to meet yours for approval. they’re completely darkened. you nod because you can’t answer with words. your tongue is preoccupied, intertwined with his. he sets his hands on your bare stomach, your nails scratching at tom’s scalp in a way that elicits a low groan.

“feels good?” your words come out muffled, barely audible. tom still understands them. “so good,” he rasps, calloused fingers dragging along your skin. they start to move up your body as you brush your lips against his. the kiss is light, and tom’s lips feel swollen as they move. his hands are nearing your chest, your legs tightening around his waist.

it earns another sinful noise from him. you want to see just how much he’s enjoying himself, so you peek up at him. what a sight that is. his faced twisted up as he focuses on kissing you, strands of hair stuck to his forehead from your playing with it. he’s so beautiful, and deserves to know. before you can tell him, you see his phone light up from the corner of your eye.

“tom,” you mumble his name. he’s too distracted by searching for your bra hook to hear. “tommy?” you’re louder this time, his mouth moving off of yours. “what is it, love?” tom exhales, hot breath hitting your face. “i think your mom texted back.” you offer a smile and run your thumb over his plumped lips. he only squints at you.

“about your time of birth,” you clarify. “for your birth chart.” “oh, that.” he kisses your thumb, nodding to himself. “forgot we were doing that.” tom tends to get a bit carried away with anything you related. making out can go on for hours and down many different paths, but it’s not the only thing. he’s a man in love, and the woman he shares that with gets all his attention at any given time. you’re so lucky to receive it.

you nod back and feel his racing heart as it beats against yours. “if you still want to, yeah.” “i definitely do. wanna hear you say more nice things about me,” tom jokes, a smug grin pulling at his lips. your eyes narrow. “who says they’ll be nice?” you challenge and earn a snicker from him.

“alright, missy. can you hand me my phone please?” he drops his head onto your chest, big brown eyes gazing up at you. “yes, sir.” you pat his cheek and grab his phone from next to you. tom’s contact name for nikki is set as ‘Ma x’, which brings a toothy smile to your face. “here you go.” you dangle his phone above his head. tom takes it from you promptly. “thanks.”

after leaving a couple of kisses on your clothed chest, he rolls to lay next to you. “let’s see, let’s see,” he murmurs, reading his mom’s messages. you scoot closer so you can look. “ooh, lots of crying emojis,” tom remarks. “i think you made her kinda nostalgic.” you pout at the screen. copying your face, he clicks on a picture nikki attached.

“she even pulled out the birth certificate.” he shows you his phone, and you zoom in to see when he was born. “big stuff here,” you say while you read. tom takes the time to get comfortable, resting his chin on your shoulder. “looks like you popped out in the middle of the night,” you conclude, giving him his phone back. he clicks his tongue at you.

“don’t say popped out.” feigning innocence, you glance over at him. “too late.” tom types out a reply thanking his mom before tossing his phone aside. “middle of the night makes sense, though.” he bites the inside of his cheek. “i’ve always been a party animal, haven’t i?” you turn onto your side and put a hand on his chest.

“it’s in your gemini nature. or really, your tom nature.” tom does an over exaggerated wink. “i like the sound of that.” he chuckles when you hit at his chest. “bring the laptop. let’s get this thing going.” you huff as you reach over him to grab it. you’ve switched positions so you’re laying horizontally on your stomach and over his legs, your laptop in front of you.

“if we find out there��s any scorpio in you...” you shutter. “hm? what’s wrong with scorpios?” tom wonders, watching you plug his birth time into the generator. “they’re literally insane, tom. like, serial killer insane. there’s statistics.” your eyes go wide as you hit enter. he leans his head back on his arms with a wince. “never mind, then.”

a small gasp leaves your lips, you squeezing tom’s knee. “it’s done.” “what does it say? share with the audience,” tom requests so you do your thing. you’re eager to get to it, turning the laptop to show him his birth chart. “ok, so.” you point at a box a few places down. “this is your rising sign, which is basically how other people see you.”

tom reads the chart, moving his own finger along the screen. “it says i’m a... taurus. what are those like?” “in one word? boring,” you summarize, tom only frowning. “kidding, kidding.” his frown fades into a small smile at that. “they’re known for being super nice and chill... also stubborn,” you tell him and prop your head in your hand.

“so, that makes no sense. those are complete opposites,” tom comments, slipping out from under you. he settles by your side. “i don’t get how i can be a gemini and a taurus, either.” “weird, right?” you sigh in content as his hand comes to stay on the small of your back. “very strange. do you think it could be wrong?”

“are you questioning the universe’s plan?” you tease, tom drumming his fingers on you. “yes, i am.” “see, you’re stubborn! taurus things.” you scroll down to his moon sign before he can protest. tom sticks out his tongue and tries to lick your cheek, which you stop by putting your hand in his face. “next is your moon sign,” you laugh out, ignoring his boyish behavior.

“that controls your emotions and private thoughts,” you elaborate and look presently surprised when you see what tom’s is. “yours is sagittarius. that’s a cool one.” “is it? how come?” tom sneaks a few kisses down the shell of your ear. “you guys are really open-minded and into things that challenge you.” he nods, signaling for you to go on. you turn onto your back so you’re looking up at him.

“you’re all about your freedom, though. it’s hard to hold you down for too long.” grinning, tom brings his face into your line of vision. “that must mean you’re a real force because i’m not going anywhere.” he nudges your nose with his, lips ghosting over yours. you return the smile and meet him halfway for your lips to connect. “anytime soon,” tom adds on in a whisper, kissing back easily.

this one doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t need to. it’s just one of those kisses that makes you feel each other’s love, no matter how you go about it. they’re essentially your own made up love language.

you’re still smiling when your lips detach, fingers combing through tom’s tussled locks. “now that we’ve done the big three...” you preface. “androids, aliens, and wizards?” tom jokes, you breathing out a laugh. you’d thought he had a soft spot for sam and bucky. your suspicions were correct.

“cute, but no. your sun sign, moon sign, and rising sign,” you explain to him. “sure, sure. what about them?” tom toys with the hem of your shirt while you think. a mischievous glint in your eyes, you suddenly sit up. “since you know yours, and i know mine, how about we test our compatibility?”

tom is well aware of what that means, and he isn’t so sure he’d like to do it. he’s someone who believes in cliches like soulmates and fate, so he’ll take your results seriously. after the lessons on astrology you gave him, especially.

his heart will always hold a special place for you and you only. nothing will change that. but, what if the universe says you can’t be together? where do you go from there?

“um,” tom presses his lips into an uncertain line. you’re already getting your laptop. “i mean, do we want to know? what if we’re not...” you come back over to him with both eyebrows furrowed. “compatible?” “yeah” he hesitates before answering, which tells you he’s nervous.

“it’s just for fun, tommy,” you assure him and press a quick kiss to his lips. “besides, if anyone could defy the odds, it would be us.” tom perks up a bit, sitting up next to you. “you think we’re that strong, huh?” “absolutely. do you?” you’re already sure what he’s going to say. he pulls you into his lap, kissing at your hair and letting it linger. “one hundred percent. i’ll do it.”

you put your laptop in your own lap with a grin. tom’s arms hold you by your middle. “ok, here we go,” you mutter, searching for a good compatibility calculator. it doesn’t take long to find one. “remember, this all a bunch of theories. our love goes beyond what a stupid website tells us, okay?” you remind him, his arms tightening around you.

“okay. i love you,” tom speaks into your hair. “you’re so good at saying exactly what i need to hear. how do you do it?” “i love you too, and that’s a secret i’ll never tell.” you take one of his hands and bring it to your lips. tom’s leg bounces while you plug your three signs and his into the calculator. before hitting the calculate option, you look at him over your shoulder.

“ready?” your finger hovers over the cursor. you know how much these things mean to him, so you want to be positive that he is. “can we do it together?” tom asks shyly, which is highly uncharacteristic of him. “sure, baby. on the count of three.” you wait for him to place his hand over yours. he grips it tight, then you start to count. “one... two... three.”

the two of you click calculate at the same time, your results taking a few seconds to load. “love, i’m so nervous. i can’t look.” tom dips his head down so yours is blocking his view. you lightheartedly roll your eyes. “it’s fine, tom. i’m sure we’ll-“ the screen changes to display your compatibility rating, you cutting yourself off. he slowly creeps out from behind you.

“oh, god. are they in? what’s it say?” tom grabs onto your waist, feeling vibrations from you giggling. you shake your head at the website. “it’s really good... almost a perfect match. told you we’re meant to be.” he joins in your laughter, an endless amount of kisses going down the side of your head. “now, it’s written in the stars. we’re untouchable!”

he’s flipping you over so he lays above you, lips colliding messily with yours for the millionth time today. you don’t mind, though. you could do this a million more. “a power couple,” you continue for him between another peck of his lips. “always have been,” tom corrects and shuts you up again with his mouth on yours.

your hand reaches up for him, but doesn’t make it as the passionate kiss he’s giving you takes your breath away. he locks your fingers together instead, whispering one last thing.

“always will be.”

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland smut #tom holland au #tom holland request #tom holland oneshot #tom holland blurb #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut

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bunny-xoxo · 3 years

Text

Laundry Day

Modern!Armin x fem!reader

18+ MINORS DNI

warning(s): oral(f) receiving, masturbation(m), swearing

a/n: ok so this is like my first full blown smut piece on here 😳 and I wasn’t expecting it to be about Armin either wbshdhehkws but I was talking with @armins-futon about him andddd here we are so I hope y’all enjoy 🤪 ALSO CONGRATS ON 400 BB THIS IS OFFICIALLY A GIFT POST FOR YOU AND YOUR MILESTONE‼️‼️

gif not mine, credit to owner

Armin grunted ahead of you as he walked into the laundry room, huffing as he set the laundry basket down.

“Ya know, I’m pretty sure I don’t need help doing laundry sweetie.” He looked at you over his shoulder where you stood quietly peeking in the doorway.

You rolled your eyes and sauntered over to hop onto the dryer where you swung your hanging feet, your heels hammering into the cold metal.

“How the hell did you hear me? I wanted to scare you.” You sighed and crossed your arms, leaning back to rest your head against the cupboard behind you.

It was a little game you guys played, and buy you guys I mean only you. You loved getting Armin startled. Well you think you would if you were ever actually successful in doing so. You’d hide behind doorways, under beds, in the closet, even in the garage after he’s come home from work but nothing ever worked. And it was starting to really bum you out.

“Don’t pout because it didn’t work, maybe you’ll get me next time.” He always said this, too.

You scoffed and turned your head to watch him. His toned arms were digging deep into the basket to pull out the last of the laundry, and the small of his back was showing from the way he was bent over to properly reach the clothes. He pulled his arms out but instead of grabbing laundry he grabbed your shins, looking up at you from his position. He was holding your legs flush against the dryer, preventing you from swinging your feet to bang loudly on it.

“Stop.” His tone of voice made you squirm.

You nod your head and give him a little smile, slightly embarrassed at how easy it is for him to affect you like that.

He stands up and stretches his arms after putting the last of the laundry in, his stomach peeking out from the bottom of his shirt, and he starts to move in front of you. You swear he does shit like that on purpose sometimes.

Standing in front of you now, he pushes your legs apart by the plush of your inner thighs and slowly moves his hands to the outer bits of them, taking his time to really feel how soft your skin is, before he roughly yanks you forward and closer to him. The metal pulls at your skin in the process and stings a little, but now your face to face with him and the discomfort is long forgotten.

“‘Scuse me sweetie, don’t want you to hit your head.” He drags his left hand up your side to cup and move your head into his chest, and with your face buried there you can still smell his body wash from his shower that morning. And when he closes the cupboard he pulls your head back by your hair, only slightly tugging on it, to kiss your nose and go back to doing laundry.

Now that he definitely did on purpose.

After pouring in the detergent he grabbed, he opted for setting it on the dryer instead of putting it back, picking you up off of it and grabbing onto your hand to pull you into a hug. This was only so he could get better access to whisper into your ear, “c’mon, let’s watch something while we wait for them to be done.”

His voice was soft and low, sending chills down your spine as you simply nodded.

You both plopped onto the couch to find something mindless to put on for the next half hour. His arms snaked around your waist and pulled you into his chest after he pressed play, his fingers drawing mindless figures onto your skin.

You guys sat like this for most of the time when you were suddenly struck with an idea, noticing how he was starting to doze off.

“I’ll be right back, I gotta go pee.” You peeled his arms off you when he hummed in response, quietly padding off to the bathroom. Of course you didn’t really have to use the bathroom, you were gonna scare him.

You waited a few minutes in the hallway with your hand over your mouth, doing your best to stifle your giggles. If he wasn’t practically asleep when you left you were sure he’d have heard you by now, maybe that’s why it never worked.

You waited a minute more before crouching down and crawling into the living room. You were moving as slowly and silently as humanly possible until you reached the end of the couch.

You shot up and shouted, thinking you’d really done it this time, except he was no longer peacefully sleeping on the couch like you’d left him.

You thought maybe you waited too long and the timer went off before you could scare him. But before you could turn around to try to find him you felt strong arms lift you up from behind paired with a shout.

You felt your heart jump and let out a little holler even though you knew the culprit was obviously Armin.

You groaned and smacked his arms while he carried you to the couch.

“Ugh! No fair Armin! I never get to scare you and now you scare me?!”

He set you down on the couch on your back and hovered above you, still chuckling to himself as he reached down to cup your cheek.

“Aww I’m sorry baby, but I wouldn’t be a good boyfriend if I let you win.” He was smiling sweetly but his tone was nowhere sweet, it was condescending and mischievous.

“Yeah whatever.” You smacked his upper arms but let your hands linger there, squeezing the muscle lightly that was tense from the way he was holding himself up.

You let your eyes wander down his arms and to his chest before you looked back up to his face. You could feel your cheeks immediately start to get warm when you realize how obviously you had just gawked at him.

“Yeah?” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice when he said that.

You groaned and hit his chest this time, refusing to look at him.

You could feel him lean down closer to you, his body heat making you even warmer.

“Here, let me make it up to you for scaring you so bad, yeah?” His throat sounded dry when he whispered that, swallowing after he spoke and kissing your cheek lightly.

He wanted you as bad as you wanted him.

His soft lips began leaving what started out as sweet kisses down the side of your neck and on the bits of your chest that were exposed, but now they were wet and needy with bites littering your collar bones.

“Armin, please.” Your voice was breathy and strained.

You were desperately pawing at his shoulders as he moved his hands to your shorts. You lifted your hips as he pulled them down along with your underwear.

“I know pretty girl, sit up for me.” He sat up on the couch and brought you with him, awkwardly adjusting the two of you until your back was resting against the cushions with your thighs resting on his shoulders.

He was on the ground in front of you, kneading the tops of your thighs as he bit along the inside of them, making you jump slightly and quickly grab handfuls of his hair.

You bucked your hips towards him when he left a pathetic kiss to your lips, his warm breath teasing you.

This was his favorite way to have you, legs spread and exposed for him. You whining and doing your best to convince to just touch you with your body squirming.

He moved his arm to bring two of his long fingers to your pussy, spreading your lips to see you desperately clench around nothing.

“Armin!” You pulled on his hair again and he was brought back down, looking up at your face and smiling sweetly.

“Sorry baby, I forgot this was about you.” He chuckled and kept staring at you while he shoved his middle finger in you at an agonizingly slow pace.

You tried to move your hips out of instinct but Armin’s other hand was keeping you in place now.

“I know baby, I’ll give you more. I’m just making sure you’re ready first.”

That was always his excuse when he was teasing you like this.

But before you could complain he had 2 fingers inside you and was curling them up at just the right spot.

You let out an erotic moan and tried to pull his face closer to where you wanted him most.

“Yeah? You want my mouth, too?”

You feverishly nodded and looked down to see his eyes dark with his pupils blown and flushed cheeks. God could he just start already.

He pulled his fingers out of you and moved his hands to spread your thighs even farther, the burn worth it when you finally felt his mouth on you.

He buried his face into you and wasted no time in running his tongue along your inner folds, humming to himself when he first got a taste of what he’d been needing.

He brought his hand up to spread your folds and shake his head slightly, making his tongue work hard against your clit. That wasn’t enough for him though.

He moved his hand so his thumb could rub your clit as his tongue fucked your hole, needing to taste more of you. The closer you got the harder you pulled on his hair, only making him groan in response.

He brought his other hand to his cock, shoving his hand down his sweatpants to give himself even a small sense of relief, his head swollen and dripping with pre-cum at how bad he needed you.

“Fuck baby, do you know what you do to me?” He pulled away breathless, his mouth and chin glistening and his eyes glossy, you could see his chest heaving from where you were and slight movements from his left arm let you know exactly what you do to him.

He didn’t give you a chance to respond when he dove back in, latching onto your clit this time and sucking harshly, effectively pushing you over the edge.

“Oh, god, f-fuck!” You whined and groaned, rolling your hips against him as you rode out your orgasm, Armin not letting up once til you lightly pushed on his head.

“Baby, please, I’m done.” You panted and closed your eyes, relaxing into the couch cushions behind you.

He sat up and you caught a glimpse of the wet spot and tent forming in his sweatpants before he pulled them down to let his cock spring free,

“Oh? You’re just gonna leave me like this?” He was breathless too, and even though he sounded cocky you knew how desperate he was for your touch.

You looked up at him with hazy eyes and a lazy smile, sitting up slightly as you reached out.

“Well, I gu-“

You were rudely interrupted by the timer on your phone signaling it was time to move the clothes from the wash.

Armin jumped, startled, and turned the phone off.

“Fucking- stupid- ugh.”

He tossed the phone angrily onto the other side of the couch and huffed at your amusement from his scare.

You giggled one last time and wrapped your hand around his cock, biting your lip at the sight of him groaning and, this time, grabbing your hair, watching you intently.

You smiled up at him sweetly, “don’t worry, the clothes can wait a few more minutes.”

——————

PLS TELL ME ALL YOUR THOUGHTS POSTING THIS IS SCARY AND IM DESPERATE FOR VALIDATION

I hope you guys liked it 😭😭😭

-🐇out

taglist: @plutowrites @armins-futon

#aot smut #attack on titan smut #snk smut #shingeki no kyojin smut #armin arlert #armin x reader #armin smut #armin headcanons #armin hcs #armin x you #[h*rny.hours😐]#minors dni #armin x y/n

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lunarsands · 2 years

Text

Flower Husbands Week 2022: Day 1

Prompt: Vows

Setting: 3rd Life SMP

Characters: Scott Smajor, Jimmy Solidarity, GoodTimesWithScar, TangoTek, Grian

Tags: Fluff

(Also available on Ao3!)

---

“You live with me, that makes us married,” Scott proclaimed blithely as they travelled through the forest.

“Technically I live across from you,” Jimmy pointed out.

“But the whole valley is mine. So, it’s ours. You married into that.”

Jimmy laughed. “Um, so, you just get to decide that? I didn’t have to say any of that ‘for better or for worst’ stuff or even ‘I do’? You say that, and it’s true?”

Scott paused, resting his hand on a tree as he looked back at the blond-haired man. “Do you want to?”

“Do I – what?”

“Say the vows to each other? There isn’t anyone to officiate, obviously, and we haven’t got rings, but we could give each other a piece of gold later when we mine some.”

Jimmy looked to the side, inexplicably nervous all of a sudden. “Is, ah, now the right time? I mean, we could wait until we do have the gold—”

“Are you getting cold feet on me already?” Scott laughed, but somewhere in the pit of his stomach he regretted making the joke in the first place.

“No, I just – ah—”

A third voice, full of all the charm in the world and then some, called out, “Did I hear someone say something about a wedding?”

“Scar—??” they both cried.

“Where did you come from?” Scott asked, then when he was greeted by the sight of red eyes and a grey complexion, he blurted, “Oh my god, you look terrifying.”

“What? Oh, yeah, I had a little accident. Well, a second accident, but I’m fine! Anyway, I overheard that you crazy kids want to get married! That’s so wonderful for you!”

Jimmy slid in hastily, “Oh, we’re already married—”

Meanwhile, Scott talked over him, “How did you even hear that, we weren’t anywhere close yet?”

“Oh, I have spies everywhere around here. We can’t be too careful with how everyone keeps coming for a piece of our desert.” Scar smiled for a brief, silent moment, then cracked under Scott’s frank stare. “Okay, no, I was behind you this whole time. I wanted to talk to you guys, but you were already leaving and you looked like you were headed this way anyway so I just followed you. I can officiate, by the way! I have those powers.”

Jimmy couldn’t hold in a laugh. “You have the blessing of the Minecraft gods? Learn something new about you all the time, Scar.”

“Technically I have the powers of an old wizard, but personally I think that counts. Do you guys want to be married by a wizard-turned-adventurer who happens to be down on his luck right now? I have a special rate for weddings at this very moment.”

Scott raised an eyebrow, barely able to contain a smirk. “How convenient for us. What would that special rate be? Let me guess, it involves diamonds.”

Scar turned a brilliant smile on him. “You’re very good at guessing games! For the bargain deal of only two diamonds – one for each of you – I will perform this service. Normally I would charge six diamonds, but the wedding business is a little slow lately.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Scott commented with amusement. “I think I might have two diamonds somewhere—”

“Wait wait wait,” Jimmy interrupted. He beckoned the cyan-haired man over closer and spoke quietly, “Are we really going to do this? I mean – Scar? Of all people? Can we expect this to be, like, legally binding, or whatever it is?”

Scar loomed behind him, butting in, “I can have Tango draw up a contract if you want! He’s good with that fine print kind of stuff. I’m good with documents, too, but if you want something in particular in writing from me, that could be a conflict of interests, so we should have a third party involved. Plus, we need a signature from a witness!”

“That— That’s not what I meant,” Jimmy stammered.

“Tango’s fine,” Scott agreed, non-plussed by whatever his blond-haired compatriot was concerned about. “I thought you would suggest Grian for that.”

“Well, Grian is my direct associate so that might also count as a conflict. I’ll go find Tango, and you can get your diamonds, and we’ll meet back here! Oh, you might want to include a tip for Tango, he probably charges for those document services, too.”

“How considerate of you to think of that ahead of time.” Scott then nodded. “All right, sounds fair. See you soon!” He turned and started back the way they had come while Scar trounced off in the direction of the Crastle.

“Scott?” Jimmy called after the cyan-haired man, not moving yet. “Scott?”

“Come on, Jimmy. You’ll need to get out your own diamond, since I’ll have to pay Tango.” He kept walking.

“Scott, I – I don’t know if I’m ready to – to…”

“To what? Commit it to writing? Settle down? You already gave me that poppy.”

Forced to follow before he got out of range, Jimmy jogged after him. “No, I just… Oh, I don’t know. It’s kind of like we just are together, we don’t need anything official.”

“How about just for the fun of it?” Secretly Scott was trying to think of other casual remarks to make that wouldn’t sound like he was trying to guilt Jimmy into agreeing; or give away that he was worried at all.

“Well, I guess so…” He caught up to Scott and when the cyan-haired man abruptly took his hand and squeezed it, he smiled.

~*~

Upon returning home they scrounged up three diamonds as well as two gold ingots, then returned to the spot where Scar had announced his presence. They found Tango waiting for them instead with a lectern beside him and several pieces of paper in his hands, a grin on his face and a gleam in his naturally-red eyes. “Gentlemen, thank you for this excellent business opportunity. You don’t often find people looking for legal services during a death game (although you would think that would make sense for transferring property and weapons after a point). Anyway, I just need you both to sign here and here before we go to the venue.” He held out a quill, which Scott practically snatched out of his hand.

“Hmm,” Tango ruminated, “I suppose this negates a groom seeing his partner until the ceremony, but we’re all running on a tight schedule right now anyway.”

Scott handed the quill to Jimmy. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tango glanced over his shoulder. “Well, let’s just say Dogwarts isn’t invited to the party, and if they did catch wind of it, they might try to crash it. I’ve got someone running interference, though, so I think it’ll be fine.” He took the papers once Jimmy was done and looked them over, nodding his head several times. “Mm-hm, mm-hm, everything looks in order. I’ll add my signature as witness after the ceremony (which is when I expect payment) and you’ll be all set! This way, gentlemen.”

This time Jimmy went for the initiative and took Scott’s hand to squeeze, his expression a little sheepish as they followed Tango, but Scott grinned.

Directly opposite the trees at the beginning of the desert, Grian was putting the finishing touches on a sandstone archway, a makeshift fence-post lattice across the middle and flowerboxes full of white tulips around the bottom of each side. A tall table sat in the center with a vase of poppies in it. Jimmy could swear Scott’s eyes began to sparkle as he said, “Oh my gosh. This is perfect! Thank you, Grian.”

“No problem.” Grian smiled and waved off the compliment. Then he leaned in and whispered, “I can’t believe he only settled for two diamonds. I would have thought he would take you for twenty.”

Jimmy cast a horrified look around, hoping Scar wasn’t nearby to overhear and take up the suggestion. “Shh, not so loudly! He might change his mind!”

Grian laughed. “No, I wouldn’t worry. He’s been giddy about this the whole time. I think you made his day.”

It was then that Tango started waving his arms at Grian, hissing out, “Oop! Places, places everyone!” He grabbed Jimmy by the shoulders and directed him to one side of the table, while Scott took the hint and stood on the other. Grian stifled a giggle and stepped to the side behind Scott.

Scar appeared, dressed in a gold-trimmed purple robe over his torn adventurer’s outfit, carrying a book that shimmered with some enchantment. Jimmy also had to hold in a laugh, muttering, “Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, Scar, no, Scar, please. Why.”

Tango elbowed him in the back to get him to be quiet.

“Friends!” Scar began as he placed the book on the table. “Thank you all for coming here – or thank you to everyone who would be here, if it wasn’t for the strings of fate pitting us all against each other and forming rivalries that can’t be avoided for even ten minutes! We are gathered here to join these two lovely people in wonderous matrimony, for those very strings have brought them together so that they may share in the magic and adventure that comes with being alive, while it lasts.”

He gestured to toward the table. “If you would hold each other’s hands over this book for a moment, I have a poem to share, then we will continue the ceremony.”

Jimmy tried to get a glance at the enchantment as he held his hands out but all he saw was a series of asterisks before Scott clasped his hands between his own. The cyan-haired man was smiling softly, and so Jimmy presented a matching grin.

Scar theatrically cleared his throat then nodded at Grian, who took something from his pocketspace then dutifully stood in wait as Scar recited:

“A day in spring

An offering

Of flowers that the showers bring

I couldn’t ask for anything more

The moon is new

The sky is blue

A quiet table set for two

I couldn’t ask for anything more

A quiet night

The stars are bright

And I am here with you tonight

I couldn’t ask for anything more.

I can’t think of anything I’d rather do

Than think of the times that I spend with you

In the morning when the sun starts to rise

Throughout the day and under silent evening skies

I couldn’t ask for anything more

Than to spend the rest of my lives with you.”

Grian stepped forward and placed a flower crown on Scott’s head, then one on Jimmy’s, and then stepped back again. Scar nodded and placed his hands over the book as well. “And now I ask of you: do you promise to look after the flower fields, and tend the sheep, and forge your weapons for battle, standing together for as long as you can?”

“I do.”

“Do you promise to bandage each other’s wounds and help each other stand back up if one of you falls?”

“I do.”

“Do you promise to have fun together and share every moment of happiness, or even sadness, that chances to happen?”

“I do.”

“Then by the power invested in me as a wizard who, among other things, can invoke the unbreakable bonds of love, I now pronounce you: flower husbands! You may now kiss each other – but maybe make it quick because I think I see uninvited guests on their way.” Scar grabbed the book and tossed it to Grian, then, as Tango grabbed the vase of flowers, Scar picked up the table and ran to the border of the desert, pitching it into the trees and yelling about rude wedding crashers.

Scott and Jimmy ignored the shenanigans for a moment and shared a quick kiss. They forgot about the gold, but taking up a bow, arrows, sword, and shields seemed like the better idea.

~End~

[Post A/N: The poem Scar recites is a version of a song written by my uncle who unexpectedly passed away in Feb 2022. I found several songs in a box of his college papers while cleaning his house, and I hadn’t known he was an aspiring songwriter back then. The lyrics of this one stood out to me and I decided to use it here in his honor, with my own addition of the last line.]

#flower husbands week #flower husbands week 2022 #trafficshipping #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #3rd life smp #flower husbands my beloved #lunar yarns

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janetbrown711 · 3 years

Note

“Why are you so nice to me” wakko or yakko max

To Wakko's delight, his brother kept good on his promise. Weeks passed and his brother devoted several days to restoring their bond just as it once was (the other days Yakko spent with Dot or with the both of them).

Heck, Wakko was so secure in his brother not abandoning him when Yakko asked if he could start up writing to Max again (at a much slower pace than before, he promised), Wakko said yes (barely) without hesitation. He knew that Max made him happy... and that he kinda owed it to Yakko to let him hang out with him again, as their little "not exactly falling out" was his fault (to him, anyway).

Everything was starting to seem... good- perfect, even.

However, Dot's birthday was rapidly approaching and Yakko was starting to get ideas.

"You know what we should do?" He said, lounging on the couch in the sunroom. "We should throw a ball for your birthday, Dot."

Dot perked up from her book. "What? Why? We never held balls for our birthdays before."

Yakko rolled his eyes. "That's because Grandma ruins everything. In this book I'm reading it says it was tradition for the royal family to hold big celebrations on their birthdays. I think it'd be fun- plus a great opportunity for you two to start making some friends."

Oh.

This again.

Wakko tried to laugh it off. "You'd have to get mum and dad to agree, and they've been pretty busy with the flooding in the west."

"Bah, that's mostly dealt with at this point. I'm sure they could use the break too," Yakko countered.

"B-but mom's coronation wasn't even that long ago," Wakko argued.

"It was over three months ago," Dot rolled her eyes. "I think a party would be fun," she looked to Yakko.

"Didn't you have fun at mom's coronation?" Yakko asked his middle sibling.

"Well I- I suppose I did..." Wakko thought back to the massive chalk drawing he had covered the floor with. It was pretty fun, and it made a lot of people happy.

"See? I'm sure a party in Dot's honor would be fun all the same- plus, making friends is great, I'm sure you'll love it," Yakko said with a reassuring smile on his face, though Wakko still wasn't quite convinced. However, he could see how much both of his siblings wanted this (even though the idea was only seconds old) and who was he to say no?

"Alright, I guess we can do that," He said, which made Dot clap in excitement as she began to detail everything she'd want for a party in her honor.

Wakko had a feeling this was going to be interesting.

.o0o.

As expected, their parents were ecstatic at the idea, and they spared no expense in attempts to create what they believed a much-needed celebration for the people of Warnerstock and their allies.

And to say it truly was Dot's creative vision would not be false. There were a lot of pinks- a lot, a lot of pinks. Though mostly tasteful, if you saw it it was hard to look away from.

But still, Wakko was happy for her, she was having the time of her life planning it all out with their dad, who was equally happy to spoil his little girl.

However, he knew deep down that despite what Yakko had sworn, her party was probably going to be very different from the coronation. He hoped it would be fun, but the more he watched decorations being put into place and talks about the guests and feasts the more he was beginning to worry.

He didn't say anything though, as the rest of his family seemed far too happy for him to want to bother them with his plight. They deserved this break, he was probably just being dramatic anyways. He'd be fine- and maybe make a friend just like Yakko said he would.

Wakko did his best to remain optimistic, despite the knots forming deep within.

It wasn't too long before the grand day arrived. Wakko had thought they had pulled out all the stops just for decorating but the day itself was insane too. Dot was showered in presents and even was taken out to town with William to go shopping for anything her heart desired, meanwhile Yakko, Wakko, and Lena stayed behind and supervised the final touches on the decorations.

Okay- really only Lena supervised, but Yakko and Wakko were technically there too. They didn't stay with her long, as she gave them a list of things to check up on so she could talk to some people which they were fine with.

Together, the brothers walked through the massive dining hall, checking curtains, flowers, vases, tapestries, etc. to make sure they were in the exact right places (not that the list really said where they were supposed to be) and checked them all off.

"So... are you looking forward to tonight?" Yakko asked, checking off 'left-most curtains'.

"Oh- uh- Yeah! I am... are you?" Wakko quickly said.

"Oh yeah, totally, it'll be great to see Max. It's been a while... you're still cool with that, right?" Yakko glanced down at him before checking another thing off.

Wakko nodded. "I won't try to prank or drive him away this time, I swear."

Yakko snorted. "I know you know better, I'm just asking if you're okay with me hanging out with him for tonight instead of you."

"Yeah, I am. You did say I should make friends after all," Wakko said, fiddling with gloves. Yakko looked away from the checklist and gave his little brother a side hug.

"I'm proud of you, you know that?" Yakko asked.

"Yeah, yeah," It was Wakko's turn to laugh.

"I'm serious-" Yakko let go and punched Wakko's arm lightly. "You're doing great. You should be proud of yourself too, you've come a long way."

Wakko smiled a little. "Maybe."

Yakko chuckled. "Well, it looks like we're just about done with this list. Wanna go turn it in to mom and go get changed into uncomfortable suits and greet guests for hours on end, or do you wanna just double and triple check the list until the last second?"

"Definitely check the list," Wakko laughed too.

And so the brothers did, until Lena caught wind of their shenanigans and forced them to start getting ready for the party (though they did cut a lot of time so technically they still regarded it as a win). At least those outfits weren't the worst they've ever worn (they were pretty confident nothing would ever top how itchy and miserable their funeral outfits were). Still, standing around and greeting people was a dreadfully boring job, not to mention awkward until their father and Dot eventually came to join them and actually do their job properly.

They knew their mom was busy, but leaving the two of them in charge was a little questionable.

Plus, after all that interaction, Wakko was starting to feel weird. Tired, but also not-? It was complicated. All he knew was that he wanted to be alone and maybe pace for a while, that'd be nice.

However, the party was to start in not too long, so he really didn't have time for that. He followed Yakko around for a while to the main party room where the people they had greeted before were all chatting amongst themselves. It wasn't too loud yet, but Wakko's tail twitched nervously as he weaved between people and conversations.

He hadn't been this nervous at the coronation- Wakko really wished he could figure out why he was feeling this way. Alas, he was unable.

He did feel a little better as Yakko and he found a spot of their own to chill in for a while, away from all the people.

"A lot of people came to this shindig, huh?" Yakko joked, "though probably no more than those who attended mom's coronation."

"Yeah..." Wakko said, trying to compare them mentally.

"More kids though, which is really good for you and Dot to make friends," Yakko said.

"Yep, yep," Wakko feigned enthusiasm.

"Are you okay..?" Yakko asked, causing Wakko to straighten out his act instantly and nod.

"Of course," he said. Yakko frowned.

"You don't have to lie you know," He remarked. Wakko bit his lip.

"M'just a little tired," he shrugged, figuring it was close enough to the truth.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Yakko asked worriedly.

Wakko nodded again. "I'll be fine, I'm probably just hungry."

Yakko laughed a little. "Alright, but you'll tell me if anything is wrong, right?"

"Mhm."

"Good."

The brothers stood in a bored silence for a while, before the rest of their family walked in and the festivities officially began.

It started with the feast, which was pretty harmless, as Wakko enjoyed talking with his family and the food was "quite excellent". The hall was filled with good cheer and hearty laughter, which he could appreciate.

However, after that, things began to blur.

It seemed only moments ago he was eating when suddenly everything was taken away and it turned into social hour. and Dot and their parents disappeared once more. He recalled Yakko asking if it was okay for him to go to Max, to which Wakko nodded and even pushed him away some. Oh god- he hoped that wasn't too aggressive.

Now he was alone. People were talking, walking, dancing, all sorts of activities. Wakko tried to take it all in, but all of the colors and sounds were starting to burn his eyes.

Friends. He was told he had to make friends.

He tried looking around for kids his age, but just turning his head made him dizzy.

Hmph.

Still, he was determined to function as a normal child would so he began weaving through the rapidly shifting crowd as he had earlier, just with a much louder and more busy crowd.

Suddenly his suit was starting to feel a lot more uncomfortable than before. God- if he could just find someone-

He bumped right into a lady in a bright purple dress. He quickly stuttered an apology before scurrying away as fast as he could, not even waiting for a response.

Seriously- was his suit trying to choke him? He pulled on it desperately, but if anything it just made the pull tighter. Wakko growled to himself as he walked further and further away from whoever that lady was, until he hit the wall.

At least the marble was cool, it was starting to feel like it was a million degrees in here.

Still, it wasn't enough. he still felt hot, and stuffy- was he even breathing anymore?

...Yes, yes he was. Rather fast though- oh dear, was that his heart? oh god- what was happening? Why was the music so loud? Why was his collar so tight? When was the last time he blinked? Where were these "kids" Wakko was supposed to make friends with?

Wait- no, he could see those. A group of them- shit, they were looking at him. Wakko noticed his nail was twitching nervously- he grabbed it and forced it to stop, but the kids laughed.

Wakko ran away again, covering his ears, his face turning red and the knot in his stomach transporting itself to his throat.

"No, no, no, no. Please, not now..." He pleaded with himself, but he didn't listen, and tears started to form. Wakko looked desperately for a quick way out, but still couldn't find any- curse the size of this place.

However, as his eyes darted around anxiously, he spotted something- a table covered in a white cloth that went to the ground. Without hesitation, Wakko went to it, making sure no one saw him before crawling underneath.

Wakko stayed there, covering his ears and rocking back and forth awhile, cursing his stupid brain for making these stupid tears that wouldn't end. He also cursed the stupid music for being too loud and the guests for being so many.

He wanted Mom.

He wanted mom to come and find him and scoop him up and take him to the playroom and sit in the rocking chair and rock him to sleep.

However, she didn't come.

No one did.

He was alone, and these tears weren't making him any calmer. Everything still felt so loud- it wasn't this loud before- he loved mom's coronation. Why was his brain so stupid?!

The young prince continued like that for a while, before someone came and lifted the tablecloth. He tried to make a run for it, but the someone grabbed his arm before he could- Wakko turned to look at their face and-

It was Max.

"S-sorry, I probably shouldn't... grab you," He let go, and Wakko scooted back, though he didn't leave. Max saw this as an invitation and joined him under the table.

"A-are- uh... Are you okay?" Max asked. Wakko looked away and shrugged.

"Right... not much of a talker..." Max recalled. Wakko nodded once, though he instantly regretted it, as it made his head feel weird.

Max tapped his fingers on his knee as he tried to figure something out. Wakko avoided any looks the Disney Prince gave him.

"Do you want some water? I can go get you some water," Max offered. Wakko sniffled and thought about it, before nodding once more (and regretting it once more).

with that, he disappeared, though not for too long.

Wakko noticed he stopped crying.

"Here, take this," Max handed him the glass. Wakko accepted the offering, taking a long drink.

Well, that felt at least a little bit better.

He glanced at Max.

"A-aren't you supposed to be with Yakko?" he asked.

"Dot was practically begging Yakko for a dance and I let him, it's her day after all," Max chuckled.

That made sense.

Wakko looked down at the glass, tapping his finger against it and looking at the water ripple.

"Do you need to step out of the party for a sec?" Max asked.

Wakko shrugged, taking a sip.

"Here- I'll help you find an exit," Max said, getting up and holding the cloth open for Wakko.

He hesitated.

He didn't deserve this- such kindness from the guy he locked in the tower mere weeks ago- it didn't make sense.

Then again, he'd give anything to get out of here.

Wakko listening to his senses and got out.

Carefully he followed Max through the gigantic room until they eventually reached a door, through which both of them slipped out of and into a calm and dark hallway.

Instantly, Wakko felt calmed, taking a deep breath.

"Wanna sit down?" Max asked, gesturing to the couches nearby. Wakko nodded. However, instead of sitting on the couch, he chose to lay on the cool floor, even taking off his gloves so he could feel the marble with his fingers.

Max didn't say anything for a while, not seeming to mind the silence. Which was good- because Wakko didn't feel like breaking it.

After a while though, a thought nagged at his brain.

Why.

Why on earth would Max help him? After everything he did? After everything he jeopardized? It didn't make sense.

Wakko sat up. Max looked at him but didn't say anything.

Wakko sighed.

"Why-?" He paused.

"Why... are you being so nice to me?"

"You were in trouble, I couldn't ignore that," Max shrugged. Wakko frowned, putting his gloves back on.

"I-i... Aren't you mad? At least a little?" He asked.

"It wasn't my first time being locked in a room for hours on end," Max snorted.

"Y-yeah, but I tried to hurt you. And Yakko..." Wakko looked at the ground. "I know how much you mean to him."

Max blinked.

"I- uh... well-" Max struggled with his words a moment.

"I don't... blame you, I guess. It's as new to you as it is to me and with a past and family tree like yours, I guess I don't blame you for lashing out? I dunno," Max shrugged, looking away.

Huh...

"Still... you didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to. Trust me, I would've helped any kid I found under there, but I'm glad it was you," Max said.

Wakko looked at him, deciding whether or not he believed that. Ultimately, he did.

"You know... Yakko talks a lot about you," Max said, piquing Wakko's interest.

"He worries a lot, but he says you're a really sweet kid, and I believe that," Max smiled a little. "You should be easier on yourself, you're still growing up you know?"

Wakko thought about that.

"I guess," He said. Max snorted.

"You know... you do seem like a pretty cool kid. I'm sorry if you ever felt I was ignoring you, I promise I'll try to make up for it too," He said.

Wakko thought about that too.

"Thanks," He said.

"I really do hope we can grow to like each other. Yakko means a lot to me and you mean a lot to him... you know?" Max blushed a little, scratching the back of his neck.

Wakko nodded, grinning a little.

"So... are we... cool?" Max asked.

Wakko thought about that as well.

"Yeah, we're cool," He said with his signature smile.

"Cool," Max grinned back. "Because I'm pretty sure Yakko might lose it if his dance with Dot ended and he can't find me."

Wakko laughed.

"Will you be alright?" Max asked, standing. Wakko nodded, getting up as well.

"I'm feeling a lot better... though I think I'll look for mum and dad," He said.

"Fair enough," Max nodded once. "Well- uh... see you around, I guess."

"See you around," Wakko laughed at his awkwardness before going back through the doors and back to the party.

Max followed soon thereafter, hoping Yakko wouldn't be too mad or worried at him for his sudden disappearance.

.o0o.

Yakko couldn't believe that a year ago today he thought his parents were dead. It baffled him honestly- he could turn his head and his parents were right there. They were never really dead- it shocked him to remember sometimes.

He also couldn't believe that only a year ago the most celebration they could share for Dot's birthday was a mini cake they had to sneak late at night.

And now look where he was- dancing in the middle of the ballroom with his little sister having the time of his life- despite the fact Dot couldn't stop giggling and he almost dropped her that one time.

However, he had to draw the line after three songs, which Dot understood, and he gave her back to their parents, hoping Max wouldn't be too mad about Dot taking up so much of his time.

"Ah, Max, there you are- sorry for dancing so long, I have a hard time saying no to her," Yakko laughed between pants, scratching the back of his neck.

"You just got done?" Max teased.

"Yeah, she really liked dancing," Yakko shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets.

"You look like you could use a breather," Max raised an eyebrow at him.

"Who, me? Whatever would give that idea?" He played back, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"C'mon- let's go to the balcony," Max said, taking his hand.

When they got to the door Yakko paused as he looked back at his family, unsure. However, his parents looked at him, and after giving a fair look of warning, they both gave him a thumbs up and nod of approval, and Yakko went off with his prince.

However, they didn't pick a random one, they went all the way through the halls to the usual one they'd go to when Max visited Warnerstock (the kid had a thing for balconies).

"Ahh, fresh air," Yakko embraced the cool night.

"Yep," Max embraced it too, immediately going and leaning on the rails.

"Are you liking the party?" Yakko asked.

"It's pretty good- though a little crowded, but I always know how to find some space," Max answered.

"I feel that- when my birthday rolls around, I'll make it a lot less crowded. I don't know what Dot had against having it outside, but what are you gonna do?" Yakko shrugged.

"I think Wakko would appreciate a smaller shindig," Max said, looking at the garden.

"What makes you say that?" Yakko decided to take his place next to Max also leaning against the railing.

"Ran into him- he wasn't having the best time so I helped ground him again," Max said like it was no big deal.

It was.

"Grounded him? You- managed to calm him down? Is he okay? What happened?" Yakko asked quickly.

"Woah, woah, it's okay. He's totally fine, just... overwhelmed." Max said.

"Oh... well... I'm glad he's okay," Yakko took a deep breath. "And I'm even more glad you were able to help him- that's huge... really."

He looked at him when he said that last part. Max blushed.

"I would've helped anyone, seriously," He looked away.

"Mhm, sure," Yakko teased.

"I am serious though- it probably means a lot to Wakko- he doesn't accept help easily and to allow you... it means he's starting to like you," Yakko said in all seriousness.

"That's good," Max nodded. "I really do want your family to like me- I just... don't have the best ways of showing it, I suppose."

"Hey, you're doing great so far," Yakko held his hand.

There was a moment before Yakko realized what he was doing and both boys broke the gesture.

"Haha... yeahhhh," Max looked at the wall away from Yakko.

There was a stretch of silence between the two, neither knowing what to do. Sure they knew what they wanted but... things are never as easy as just doing what you want.

"My dad and uncles like you too- if you care about that," Max decided to say.

"That's good," Yakko smiled a little, rubbing his thumb on the railing.

Another pause.

"You know- It's funny to me how when we met you thought I might too cool for you," Max remarked.

"When did I ever say that?" Yakko said.

"You called me cool at least fifty times upon first meeting me," Max play punched his arm.

"As I recall, you called me cool, so who's the real cool one here?" Yakko punched him back and the princes laughed.

"Alright, alright, you got me," Max chuckled. "I was just trying to say you were totally wrong, I don't have a cool bone in my body."

"God- you're so cool you don't even know how cool you are. Typical," Yakko sighed teasingly.

"Hey, didn't I just say you're pretty cool too?" Max accused playfully.

"Oh please, you're way cooler. No trauma and with fluffy, luxurious hair like that? Please," Yakko rolled his eyes.

"Oh puh-lease yourself. Trauma is just a cool backstory and you're home is a lot more fun and a lot less crowded and your family is a lot more cool too," Max pointed his finger at Yakko.

"You're exaggerating," Yakko pointed back.

"Nope- not at all. You're one of my first true friends and that automatically makes you very cool," Max crossed his arms.

"Oh yeah? W-well-" Yakko paused, looking at Max carefully.

A pause.

Max's dark brown eyes shined back at Yakko, reflecting the stars that surrounded them wonderfully. His fluffy and luxurious hair framed his face with perfect ease. His signature smile slowly turned into that of curiosity.

Yakko felt his heart flutter.

"I'm not as cool as you think," Yakko stepped down, looking at the ground.

Coward.

Another pause.

"..."

"Well maybe you are right- maybe I am cooler than you."

"Wha-?"

Before Yakko could finish the sentence, Max grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into a kiss.

"S-see?" Max was internally "fjdkaf;sfj"-ing in his brain. "You've won- I'm a lot cooler."

"Y-yeah," Yakko could barely speak his face was as red as Wakko's hat. "You're... yeah," his face melted into a goofy grin.

"Oh god- I'm sorry- d-did you not mean that..?" Max panicked, quickly becoming embarrassed.

"N-no!" Yakko snapped to life. "I-i... I- uh..."

"I liked it," He managed to say. Max smiled.

"W-... Wanna do it again?" Yakko proposed, and Max nodded, and they shared another kiss.

Yakko knew it was corny to think, but it truly felt just like fireworks in his chest.

He liked Max- Max liked him. A part of himself was realized- and he felt alive. A good kind of alive- not the kind of alive that came from life or death situations.

"So... I guess that makes us even," Max joked. Yakko laughed.

"I guess so," He couldn't get himself to stop smiling- neither could Max. They looked at each other before bursting into laughter again.

"Man, we really should return to the party," Max said.

"Yeah, you're right," Yakko's face was starting to hurt from the smiling.

"Do- uh... do you think your parents will be cool... orrrr...?" Max asked.

"Psh, I'm sure they'll be fine," He said without hesitation.

"Cool," Max said, opening the door out of the balcony.

Yakko looked at him for a moment, trying to absorb the moment as best he could.

"You okay?" Max asked.

"Yep," Yakko said, taking a deep breath as he implanted it in his memory in his brain forever.

"C'mon, let's go before they think we've done something stupid," Yakko said, quickly joining Max and grabbing his hand before running back to join his family.

however, right before entering the party room once more, Yakko paused.

"Does this mean our friendship is basically ruined?" He asked.

Max thought about it.

"I wouldn't think of it as a ruining per se... maybe think of it as an upgrade of sorts," Max winked.

God, he was so much cooler.

"Cool," Yakko grinned, squeezing Max's hand.

"Well... uh- shall we?" Max let go and offered Yakko his arm.

Yakko thought about it.

Taking it would mean no taking it back- it would mean the whole party would basically know that they kissed (holy shit- they kissed! that was a thing that happened!). His parents, his siblings, practically the whole kingdom, and their allies.

Yakko couldn't imagine any other way to walk back in.

He took his arm.

"We shall."

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 The End

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nobodyfamousposts · 3 years

Text

My-Crack-ulous: Aku-Maid

In which I am a horrible person...

No seriously. Don’t read this.

For @mermain123, for bringing up the cursed image that started this mess in the first place.

Mermain: i said i was suffering

Mermain: i didn't want you to make the internet suffer

Me: That sounds like the internet’s problem.

Also for @bloody-writes. You know why... ; )

_________________________

Hawk Moth was a supervillain who had been terrorizing Paris for the better part of two years.

But no one could really argue that not all of his ideas have been good. Or well thought out. Or in any way sensible even.

Like the time he akumatized a baby.

Or the time he akumatized a girl to transform people into exact replicas of herself.

Or the fact he keeps akumatizing Mr. Ramier for going on 29 times at this point…

Or the other time he akumatized a baby…

Times that he destroyed Paris. Times that he nearly destroyed the world. Times that he gave people powers that were completely contradictory to the goals of getting the Miraculous he was after by erasing the heroes from existence or transforming them in ways that made the Miraculous inaccessible.

But none of his akumatizations had ever gotten him as much hate, caused as much misery, were were ultimately as pointless as this most recent incident.

Aku-maid.

It was known the instant she was akumatized. As soon as she was transformed, a wave of power enveloped the city. And within that wave, half of the people of Paris were transformed as well.

…the male half.

Her power was to transform all the men of Paris. She didn’t even have a weapon or attack that did it, it just happened almost instantaneously. All men suddenly found themselves changed.

Or rather, their outfits…

“Ah!”

“What the hell—!?”

“I can’t get it off!”

One by one, every male in Paris suddenly found themselves in a much different state of attire. What had just been a normal day full of various styles and appearances had all suddenly become very…frilly.

“WHY AM I A MAID?!”

Much as implied her namesake, the akuma’s power involved transforming whatever any man was wearing into some variation of a maid outfit.

Every man.

All over Paris.

From Andre Bourgeois, who has refused to leave his office to make an official statement…

“ANDRE!” Audrey shouted, banging on the door. “Get out here this instant!”

“But, honey, I can’t be seen like this!”

To Roger Raincomprix, who has tried to continue his normal duties despite the…change of uniform…

“Stop in the name of the law!” Roger shouted, reaching into his pockets in an automatic reaction to try to get his handcuffs. While the dress he was wearing did still have pockets, the only item they procured was a cleaning rag, which was notably less threatening as the suspect in question stared for a moment before deciding to take off.

“HEY!”

And yes, even to…

“I’m a Macrophage!” Adrien gushed happily as he lifted his lengthy skirt to give a twirl.

…even to Adrien Agreste, who was apparently the only one to find anything pleasant about the current crisis.

Nino stared.

“Dude. Seriously?”

“I’ve always wanted to cosplay!”

Nino, having been long-since exposed to his friend’s deep love for anime in its many forms, at least knew what a Macrophage was. But even so, he couldn’t help but feel there was something odd about the way Adrien took to the long pale dress and cap.

Kim rested a hand on Nino’s shoulder. “Just let the guy enjoy this.”

“At least somebody is.” Nathaniel muttered bitterly as he tried to hide as behind his sketchbook. It was a futile attempt, of course, as he at most only covered his face, leaving the red dress, white apron with pockets, and knee-high boots on full display.

“I don’t understand how he can.” Max complained. He tugged at his own skirt in vain, looking at Adrien’s ankle-length ensemble enviously. The skirt was much shorter than he would have liked—reaching a couple inches above his thigh and almost seemed to be defying gravity to stay that way despite his attempts to get it to either flatten or otherwise lower. “I question the design choices.”

“But you look just like Misaki from Maid Sama! And Nathaniel looks like Lizbeth!” Adrien insisted. “It’s totally a cosplay!”

Max just stared incredulously. He was wearing a black dress with puffy sleeves that tapered off just shy of his elbow, white apron, a cap, and thigh-high black stockings and knee-high boots, it seemed Adrien did have a point.

Max, in all fairness, didn’t particularly care in favor of the problems that came with suddenly finding himself in a short dress, heels, and a corset.

“I just can’t peg where Kim or Nino’s outfits are from.” He continued, studying the outfits in question contemplatively. “But give me a little time! It’ll come to me!”

The boys had been having an afternoon hangout session in the park. No girls. No teachers. No Gabriel Agreste or bodyguards to whisk certain teen models away. It was supposed to be a normal non-drama-filled day.

…which was naturally when it became something less than normal and certainly more than drama-filled.

“I think I get why girls complain about this sort of thing now.” Kim said, looking at his shoes. “These heels are kind of uncomfortable…”

“Are you sure it’s the heels and not the flippers?” Nino asked, annoyed.

Sure enough, Kim was wearing flipper-heels. They were black and also had black ankle straps with a little bow on each. This strange footwear did seem to go with Kim’s talent in swimming, which was also emphasized by the ruffle maid swimsuit they matched with.

“Nah, it’s definitely the heels.” Kim insisted.

So this was what their all-boys’ afternoon had come to.

Kim was wobbling on unsteady heels.

Nathaniel groaned and kept his ever reddening face covered.

Max was questioning where they could procure jackets. Long jackets.

Adrien was giggling to himself and asking if they could do a full Cells at Work group cosplay.

And Nino paled, suddenly realizing something.

"Guys. Guys, we have to hide!"

"Why?" Kim asked. "It's annoying, but this akuma doesn't seem really dangerous."

"No, you don't get it!" Nino hissed. "If Alya catches us, we will NEVER live this down!"

Nathaniel looked over the edge of his sketchbook. “Alya wouldn’t actually post pictures of us to the Ladyblog, would she?”

A long pause followed.

The boys paled.

Except for Adrien, who turned to them with a gasp of excitement. “Do you think she would? We could do a group picture!”

All the other boys paled even more, looking downright ill.

And immediately took off running.

Or at least as well as they could with heels. None of them made it very far without tripping, stumbling, or simply struggling to stay upright as they still tried to move away from the area as quickly as the heels would allow.

“But what’s wrong with—?”

“JUST RUN, ADRIEN!”

“Who thought maid outfits with high heels was a good idea?! How can anyone be expected to clean in these things?

“I will never draw high heels on a super heroine again.”

“I can’t breathe! Who created corsets?! What objective does this achieve besides crushing one’s lungs?”

Nino groaned, still running. “I hope Hawk Moth is suffering as much as we are!”

_____________________

If Nino Lahiffe had the ability to break the fourth wall and peer into the events happening outside of his immediate vicinity, he would be happy to find this was actually the case.

And he would laugh.

Oh, how he would laugh.

“Sir…?”

“Don’t.” Came the dark growl from a very unhappy supervillain. “Don’t say anything, Nathalie..."

This was an akuma that impacted every male in Paris. Every male.

…even to Hawk Moth, himself.

“Why did this happen?”

It would appear that even Hawk Moth was not immune to Aku-Maid’s power as he had been similarly transformed. And unfortunately, due to the change, he could no longer access his Miraculous. The Butterfly broach had disappeared, having been transformed along with his outfit.

And his outfit had…actually left much to be desired.

Which was truthfully just a nice way of saying it was ugly.

Really, really ugly.

Normally the picture of stoicism, Nathalie had to pretend to cough to avoid reacting.

“Can’t you order the akuma to undo it?” She eventually was able to ask.

He lowered his head and closed his eyes in concentration. “No. It’s no good. I’ve lost the link!”

His eyes widened and he clutched his chest in a panic.

“Where is the Miraculous?!” Hawk Moth demanded, trying—and failing to pull at the tasteless dress. But as others across the city had already discovered, the clothes were magic and would not be removed or displaced. Not even the frock or the cap he now wore.

“Sir, you were transformed when you changed. It looks like the Butterfly Miraculous was transformed along with you.”

He froze, eyes widening in horror. “But that’s—”

He grasped at the empty place on his chest. Where once had been his lapel and pin now only had ruffles and a leathery texture. His mask remained in place, though it was now fully black except for the openings around his eyes and mouth, which were bordered with a lighter grey color. The material and outfit overall had a shine to it that could be found on any wetsuit.

To put it nicely: he looked atrocious.

To put it bluntly: he looked like some sort of BDSM role-player with a maid kink.

So it was fortunate, perhaps, that no one else in Paris would have to be subject to the sight.

Except Nathalie. Who was probably going to have nightmares.

Or a coronary from the laughter she was trying to hold back.

It was admittedly a bit hard to tell.

But it seemed she was handling the situation a bit better than Hawk Moth, despite the fact that the man was currently unable to see himself or the full extent of the monstrosity he now wore.

…this was probably for the best. Given the man’s fashion sense, there was really no telling whether he would be horrified or inspired, and nobody would want to find out.

“I can’t contact the akuma! And I can’t call it back!”

He moaned, covering his…already covered face with his hands. “I’ll never be taken seriously again!”

Nathalie resolutely held back from pointing out he was barely being taken seriously now.

“It’s…not that bad?” She tried. Not very well, but she tried.

Hawk Moth clutched his head in horror. “Unless Ladybug and Chat Noir can stop this akuma, we’re doomed!”

“Sir, it’s just an akuma that puts men in maid outfits. It’s really not that bad.”

“DOOOOOOMED!!!”

__________________________

The akuma, for her part, was unaware of her benefactor’s misery, too busy enjoying the abject misery of everyone else around her.

Nobody knew just what had set the girl off to get her akumatized in the first place. Her comments about men being “the eye-candy now” suggested an argument. The maid outfits involved suggested what the topic of the argument had been regarding.

To be honest, nobody had actually realized she was the akuma responsible. She did appear fairly normal by akuma terms, dressed in a seemingly authentic Victorian era dress more befitting as an authentic Lady’s Maid compared the frillier, lacier varieties that the men around her had suddenly found themselves in. What would normally have gotten her a few odds looks was mostly ignored in the face of the sudden change. Few even took notice of her dark purple skin or black hair. Or the fan in her hand.

“THAT’S RIGHT! SEE HOW YOU LIKE BEING OBJECTIFIED!”

The yelling…was a bit harder to miss.

It was the first thing that drew the attention of the three girls settled at the cafe.

The second thing was the various cries of horror as several of the men around them suddenly discovered their state of dress transformed into…well…dresses. Of a variety that made the little cafe appear more like a maid cafe than anything.

The third thing was the appearance of a familiar face running down the road, holding up his long white dress to make running easier as he looked for a place to hide.

Marinette stared.

“ADRIEN?!”

Adrien Agreste was running around in a long white and pale cream Victorian-era dress and cap, looking like Cinderella running from the ball. Except a maid.

A quick glance to her companions showed that both Alya and Kagami were similarly staring in befuddlement, so this was neither her imagination or a fever dream.

“Adrien? What’s going on?” Alya asked for everyone.

“It’s an akuma!” He replied, quickly. “She’s putting everybody into cosplay!”

“…cosplay?”

“Yeah!”

“…everybody?”

He paused, glancing around. “Well…all the guys, I think?”

Marinette stared.

“…Just that?” Alya asked, thankfully taking over while Marinette’s brain started to become aware that this WAS Adrien she was talking to. “She’s not doing anything else besides putting guys into…‘cosplays’?”

He blinked in confusion. “I…think so?”

“She isn’t…I don’t know…commanding you or anything?”

“Well, she hasn’t yet. Which, really, isn’t so bad for an akuma if you think about it.” He said with a frown before he noticed the strange look on Kagami’s face. “Kagami, are you okay?”

Kagami made a strangled sound.

“Marinette?”

Marinette pretended to choke on a drink from an empty glass to avoid speaking.

“Can I add to your order?” The waiter came by, seeming unconcerned by the ruckus or the act that he was now wearing a rather cutesy maid outfit the likes of which would be seen in a maid cafe in Japan.

“You don’t seem put off by this.” Alya pointed out, noting his relatively unfazed attitude compared to the panicking of the other men around them…or the gushing from Adrien.

The waiter took it in stride.

“It’s okay.” He replied blankly. “I’m already dead inside.”

“Oh.”

He turned to Kagami. “Do you need anything else, Miss?”

Kagami was still staring at Adrien, blushing furiously.

“I think I have a problem.”

“You mean a kink?”

“A. Problem.” She spoke through gritted teeth.

“Story of my life.” The waiter replied as he refilled her glass of water, either unaware or uncaring of the specific nature of her trouble.

Alya gasped in sudden realization. “Wait! If this is happening here then…” She turned to Adrien. “Where were Nino and the boys?” He blinked, curious. “Oh, they decided to head home. Why?”

An almost sinister smirk formed on Alya’s face. One that would have anyone it was directed at cowering in fear. And strong enough to be felt from several blocks away.

Unbeknownst to them, Nino felt that smirk like a trail of cold fingers down his back, and promptly threw himself into his room and slammed the door shut behind him.

As if she sensed this, Alya slammed several bills on the table and dashed out the door.

“GOTTA GO!”

Realizing an akuma was about, Marinette was right on her heels. She found a nearby alleyway and immediately prepared to transform and face this latest threat.

“Oh my god. OH MY GOD.” She broke down, letting out the laughter she’d been trying so hard to hold in. “He’s a dork! The boy I’m crushing on is a complete DORK who is in to cosplaying! He thinks maid outfits are COSPLAY!”

…or she would be.

“And here I’ve been driving myself nuts with anxiety over just asking him out and he doesn’t even—”

Any minute now…

“Marinette!” Tikki hissed. “You need to stop the akuma!”

“Can’t I just take a picture first?”

“MARINETTE!”

“Oh fine…”

_____________________

Luka didn’t realize anything had happened. He felt a bit off balanced for a moment, and a bit colder, but attributed that to being on the Liberty. So he simply shifted his stance to be a bit more steady and continued playing. It wasn’t until the drum stopped that he realized something was actually wrong.

The look of shock from Mylene and the following shriek from Ivan cemented it.

He spun around, not sure what could have elicited such a cry from his fellow bandmate. And at first, he couldn’t really tell what had happened. Ivan was crouched behind the drum set, covering his face with his hands and trembling in what appeared to be mortification.

Then he noticed the mobcap on Ivan’s head, which he was pretty sure hadn’t been there before. And Ivan’s shirt seemed distinctly…fluffier and frillier than he remembered seeing a few minutes ago. He tried to move closer to offer help, only for his own balance to be off. And when he looked down…

Oh.

The dress was new.

As were the stockings.

And the notably thinner and sleeker heels on his boots.

He hummed to himself, considering the change.

“Akuma?” Juleka asked him.

“Most likely.” He replied.

Mylene had rushed up to their practice stage and to Ivan’s side, even as he moaned for her to not look at him. The poor guy was completely red in embarrassment. Seeing how upset he was, the other three had backed away, leaving Mylene to try to help her boyfriend.

“Luka, are you okay?” Rose asked worriedly, trying to respect Ivan’s need for space while also checking in on their other effected bandmate.

“I’m fine. It was just a surprise at first.” He replied.

It wasn’t every day that you suddenly found yourself in a maid outfit, after all. It was a simple outfit. White off the shoulder puffy sleeves with black frills. A black tube skirt. White apron. And…he reached to his neck where a weight was, feeling a choker.

Huh…

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Honestly, he could be in worse.

Rose seemed surprised at that. “Really? Even with those shoes?”

He looked down at the shoes in question. The boots were his style—surprisingly, given it was an akuma. The higher heels were definitely different from his norm, and clearly what Rose was referring to. In any other circumstances, she would be right.

But...

Luka smiled, shifting his stance and resting a hand on his hip. “Well, someone had to teach Jules to walk in heels. And I couldn’t show her if I didn’t know how myself.

Juleka huffed. “Don’t say that like you didn’t enjoy playing dress up.”

Luka merely curtsied, not only showing off more of his slightly ripped and punk-looking fishnet stockings, but almost proudly displaying his ability to move fluently in heels.

Rose appropriately “oo-ed” and “aah-ed” at his display. Juleka merely shook her head and smiled. Ivan was still recovering from his panic attack and had resolutely refused to come out from behind the drums, despite Mylene’s reassurances.

“So it has to be an akuma, right?” Rose asked.

“If it is, I want a picture or two, at least.” Juleka muttered as she admired Luka’s outfit, mumbling about commissioning Marinette to recreate it in her size. She hadn’t known maids could come in this style.

Mylene nodded from her place at Ivan’s side. “Though it seems rather fortunate if this is all the akuma is doing.”

“We don’t know if that is it, though.” Luka warned. “For all we know, there could be some other ability she has if she catches us. It would probably be safer if we hid out inside until this is over.”

The others agreed. And Anarka, bless her soul, actually came up with a large blanket for Ivan to wrap himself in to preserve his dignity. Then she and Mylene helped the taller teen to safely relocate to inside. Much like Luka, Ivan’s shoes had changed, but he was substantially less able to maneuver in them. And no amount of effort or force on his part could seem to separate the heels from his feet.

Once he and the others were inside, Luka moved to follow. He hesitated, however, at the sound of something landing behind him.

“Viperion? We’ll need your help.”

He turned to see Ladybug standing tall. And was that perhaps a hint of blush on her face?

Oh.

A shame.

It looked like Juleka wouldn’t be getting her pictures, after all...

_____________________

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

He shuddered, backing away from the door as far as possible.

“Ninoooooo…”

It was a fight for survival.

“C’mon, Nino. Just open the door.”

The survival of his dignity, but still!

He’d lost track of the others and immediately rushed home and to the safety of his room. His room, which he could lock and hide away in until this all blew over.

“I have a key!” Came Chris’s voice. “Somewhere…”

“Give it and I won’t take any pictures of you.”

“Deal!”

His room, which his traitorous little brother was willing to allow the enemy entry into.

Under any normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be this desperate. But if Alya caught him like this…

Black dress. Puffy at the shoulder, sleeves that extended to his wrists and were bound by white cuffs. A white smock tied back with a white ribbon. White bow at the neck and white frills along the bottom of the dress?

Oh yeah…Alya would never let this go…

He knew he shouldn’t have gotten into all those anime Adrien pushed him into! So what if the maids were cute? And sure, he’d admit he's had a thought or two of Alya in such attire...

But how was he supposed to know Alya had such thoughts as well? And in the complete opposite direction! Clearly this was the akuma’s magic punishing him!

Nino looked to his window.

It would be a long fall, but it was his only escape.

But would the broken legs be worth it when Alya would soon figure out what he did and be able to catch up to him easily?

Maybe he could try to climb up instead…but in these heels? It was suicide!

“Fufufu!”

…screw it.

He opened up his window, only to meet a new pair of eyes.

Ladybug stared in surprise from her place at his windowsill, a certain box in hand.

“…hi?”

“Oh thank god!” He exclaimed. He took her by her shoulders, half leaning out and half pulling her in. “Alya’s insisting on taking pictures! Please tell me you have my Miraculous with you!”

“Actually, about that—”

“I don’t care! I’ll do anything! Just please—SAVE ME!”

Ladybug looked back behind her to a distant rooftop and the other allies she’d left behind.

The sound of a key jingling could be heard and Nino stared up at her, pleadingly.

Well, she could never resist the eyes…

By the time they’d gotten the door open, the room was empty.

Nino was gone.

_____________________

Six heroes stood assembled.

Ladybug.

Chat Noir.

Carapace.

Viperion.

King Monkey.

Pegasus.

Six heroes.

Five of whom were male.

And…still wearing some semblance of feminine maid-like outfits.

Ladybug wasn’t sure if she should be impressed or worried.

“What the hell?! I thought the Miraculous were supposed to change us into our hero suits?” Nino groused.

Contrary to his hopes and expectations, using the Miraculous had not transformed him into his normal Carapace look, but had rather simply given him a different outfit. The dress itself was green and had a turtle shell pattern, while the apron and waist belts were a brown color. The bowknot around his neck was a dark green and a brown to match the apron. He wore stockings. And to his very limited relief, his shoes were flats instead of heels.

“Well, at least this skirt is longer.” Pegasus said, now wearing a dark brown blouse and bicycle skirt. The skirt went to just above his ankles, for which he was grateful. But this seemed to be countered by the increase of height to his heels.

Plus no corset. The outfit was still fit tightly and not very comfortable, but at least he could breathe now.

“Though I believe we’re getting away from maid-wear now.” Chat said, conversationally.

Pegasus gave him a flat look. “I’m not complaining.”

If Chat had witnessed his earlier ensemble, surely he would understand.

King Monkey, for his part, seemed somewhat appeased with his Miraculous suit. It was a notably more Eastern style of dress, appearing more like robes worn by palace servants. He wore a light brown waistcoat with wide sleeves over a blouse and a wrap-around skirt. It looked heavy, but Kim seemed to have no trouble with it. Maybe it was made of a lighter material…?

And Viperion’s dress was different in style as well. Whereas his maid outfit as Luka had been more punk, this was more sleek. Wearing a green sleeveless dress and white smock, as well as what appeared to be a green corset. The dress had a slit at the sides, giving more maneuverability for his legs…as well as more show, given the appearance of a garter belt and stockings. His shoes were high heeled but including a beautiful snake design that wrapped around his ankles. To finish it off, rather than remain bare, his arms were covered in what appeared to be loose green sleeves that started at his elbows and extended to his wrists.

…maybe a picture or two wouldn’t hurt? Or three? Because the amount of details on these outfits were amazing and she was just brimming with ideas now…

Ladybug broke out of her musings when someone tugged on her shoulder to get her attention.

It was Chat. Chat who, much like the other heroes, as dressed in a fantastical outfit. Though a maid outfit, it was definitely more cat-themed with a giant paw-like gloves covering his hands, a paw print on his apron, and bow and bell on his tail which rang as he shifted.

What material was that made of, anyway? She kind of wanted to give it a feel and see if she could find something to compare it to. Maybe a quick sketch?

Oh. Right.

Akuma.

Maybe if she was lucky, they could finish this quickly so she could rush back home and take notes while she still had the ideas bouncing in her brain.

…maybe someone would have gotten pictures by then…?

“Ladybug?” Chat whispered, snapping her back to reality.

“Yes?”

Chat frowned in concern. “Is the Guardian okay with this?”

Ladybug froze.

“PSST! Ladybug!” Came a voice from a nearby rooftop, drawing her attention.

“Master Fu?”

“Ladybug! Here’s the Miracle Box. Take as many allies as you can and resolve this as soon as possible!”

“Master? Are…you hiding in a box?”

“No questions! Just go!”

“…he’s fine.”

Chat seemed uncertain, but decided not to pry.

“Let’s just split up and find the akuma.” Ladybug said. “But don’t engage until we’re all together!”

With that, the six split into three groups, with Chat and Carapace going one way and King Monkey and Pegasus going another, leaving Ladybug and Viperion searching together with the former trying not to get caught stealing peeks at the latter.

“Is something wrong?” He asked with a smile.

…trying. The key word was trying not to get caught.

“No! Nothing!” She replied quickly. “I’m just…surprised that you can still move so quickly in those heels.”

“I’ve had practice.” He explained, still smiling. He even lifted one leg behind him, managing to stand perfectly balanced even on one leg in heels.

“I…see.”

Part of her wanted very much to laugh. It was the same part that had found this entire day ridiculous. The other part of her was her inner artist at work and really wanted to make a few sketches inspired from the presented outfits. Like Viperion’s sleeves…and those shoes with a snake coil wrapping around the ankle…

“Ladybug!”

Gaah! Focus!

She turned towards the shout to find King Monkey and Pegasus stumbling towards her.

Her fingers twitched. She ignored it.

“We found the akuma.” King Monkey reported. “She doesn’t seem to be doing anything. Just…kind or roaming around.”

“And laughing.” Pegasus added bitterly. “She appears to be doing a lot of that.”

“How’s THAT for ‘doll them up’?” Came a shout from street level. “HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT, HUH?!”

As if on cue…

Ladybug and the others peeked over the edge of the roof.

“Has she displayed any other powers?” She asked.

“No.” Pegasus replied. “From what we could see, her power has already been activated to…obvious effect.” He hesitated, resolutely avoiding mentioning his new outfit or the indignity he’d already suffered. “She has only been laughing. And tripping the occasional person while searching for someone in particular—possibly the one responsible for her ire.”

Ladybug nodded. “At least she’s distracted and doesn’t know we’re here. We just need a plan of attack before we try to fight her.”

“No problem!” King Monkey said with a grin as he reached for his weapon. “We can just do a head on attack with our weapons and—”

They stared.

In place of his staff was a broom. A normal cleaning broom.

They sent cautious glances to each other before they checked their own inventory.

Said inventory consisted of a broom, a bucket, and a feather duster.

“I believe that constitutes as a problem.” Pegasus stated worriedly.

“That’s no fair!” King Monkey exclaimed. “Adrien was able to summon a machete!”

Ladybug blanched at that. “A what?!”

Pegasus pushed up his glasses. “I believe it’s a component of his…‘cosplay’?”

“Pfft!” Ladybug covered her mouth with her hand.

“Ladybug?”

“I-it’s nothing!” She replied hurriedly.

Viperion raised his eyebrow at her but didn’t comment.

King Monkey at least seemed to take it in stride.

“Now we just need a plan for attack!”

“With what?!” Pegasus questioned, waving the feather duster in frustration. “Our weapons don’t work!”

“More like our weapons aren’t actually weapons.” Viperion said, considering his bucket.

“I could smack her.” King Monkey offered, holding up his broom. “Maybe your feather duster has dust on it and could make her sneeze?”

Pegasus gave him a flat look.

“I think the broom is the best weapon we have right now.”

“Don’t knock a bucket!” King Monkey commanded, resolutely. “I got one stick on my head one time and it took hours to get it off! Buckets are evil, man!”

Pegasus sighed and rubbed his head. “It concerns me that you’re the second person I know whom that has happened to.”

Ladybug coughed, discretely trying to draw attention off that particular subject lest identities be at risk. “Anyway, I think I have a plan...”

______________________

To be honest, it wasn’t that difficult of an akuma. Especially not with six of them teaming up against it.

Akumaid truly see to have no ability other than the initial one of transforming what any male in Paris was wearing into something embarrassing...unless you were Adrien, apparently. Aside from that, she showed no other power—neither over the clothes themselves or the people wearing them. Well, she wasn’t controlling any of the victims or shrinking the clothing to choke them at any rate...which if you think about it, was rather lame for an akuma in the power department.

The only real disadvantage in battle came in the difficulty the boys had moving freely in their current outfits. And the afore noted lack of proper weaponry.

Their advantage of surprising was ruined by Chat’s bell ringing before they could ambush her, and both Carapace and Pegasus losing balance with their heels and falling over. King Monkey’s outfit, while longer, also meant more fabric to flap about and resist his movements regardless of how light it may have been, so he wasn’t able to get a hit in fast enough before the akuma turned on him and knocked him away.

Chat was able to get a hit in though.

With his…Kitty Wand…

“THIS IS MAGICAL PUNISHMENT!” He shouted as he smacked the akuma over the head.

“Chat. Chat no. Chat why?”

And Ladybug had hopelessly lost her composure by this point and was laughing. Just laughing. Laughing so hard she was crying actual tears as she smacked her own thigh in her struggle to breathe. Viperion was trying to help her stay standing, keeping an arm around her to support her as she half leaned and half chuckled tears into his chest.

“What’s going on? Does the akuma have some power over Ladybug, too?” King Monkey asked.

…

Viperion sighed.

“Sure. Something to that effect.”

Ladybug wheezed.

“LADYBUG!”

“Lu-haha-lucky haha-charm!”

It said something when her own Lucky Charm magicked up a paper bag. With Ladybug still victim to her fit of giggles, Viperion simply put the bag over her face and had her try to breathe.

“A paper bag doesn’t help with out of control laughing.” Pegasus noted as he forced himself to his feet.

“Do you want to try to figure out the Lucky Charm?” Viperion bit out in annoyance, Ladybug still shaking in his arms.

Pegasus coughed and backed away. “No, thank you.”

Ladybug let out another giggle.

“All right, enough! I’ll stop her!” Carapace shouted, reaching for his back. “With my…serving plate.”

His shield.

His precious shield was gone.

“…Carapace?” Ladybug asked.

The newly rendered Turtle Maid sighed and simply threw the plate as he had his shield, not expecting much.

…the plate slice flew through the air at a surprising speed, but missed the akuma entirely. Instead, it sailed past her, hitting a light post.

Ladybug had expected it to bounce, but instead there was a sound of shredding metal as the serving plate actually tore through the lamp post and into the concrete itself.

The lamp post, now detached, tilted and fell over—conveniently on top of the akuma before she had the time to realize what was happening and move out of the way.

SLAM!

It fell on top of her and she hit the ground.

“Huzzah?” Kim asked.

“Well…that’s one way to defeat an akuma.” Pegasus marveled.

“Great. Now can we fix this already?” Carapace asked impatiently. If they took too much longer, someone was bound to catch them.

That someone would probably be Alya.

And that was the last thing he wanted at this point.

“But I kind of wanted to make a sketch at least…” Ladybug muttered to herself, holding the paper bag Charm to her chest.

“LADYBUG!”

She waved her hands insistently. “I’m on it!”

But she could dream…

“MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!”

It was with some disappointment that the Miraculous Cure wiped away the outfits of the other heroes, returning them to their original costumes.

“OH THANK GOD!”

“That was…horrible…”

“Corsets were invented as a torture method, I swear…”

“Shieldy!” Carapace exclaimed, hugging the shield in relief. “Never leave me again!”

“You okay now, Ladybug?” Chat asked her in worry.

“I’m fine.” She said, even though she wasn’t really. She felt like she’d missed a chance, even if it was for the greater good. But it would have been an abuse of her power to be taking pictures of the guys in that state and she already felt bad enough for breaking down laughing in the middle of the fight.

In that moment, however, the loveliness of ladybugs that made up the Cure returned from their task of restoring Paris to flow over Ladybug herself before vanishing, leaving her holding an envelope in their wake. Curious, she opened the envelope…

She gasped.

Inside were a multitude of photos of the other heroes. From different angles. In different positions. All of them in their new outfits.

Ladybug bit the inside of her cheek to keep from responding and drawing attention to herself.

…Thank you, Tikki.

Best. Kwami. Ever. “Ladybug…” Carapace said in growing wariness. “What is that?”

“Nothing!”

“Ladybug. That better not be what I think it is…”

She shoved the photos back in the envelope.

“It’s nothing at all!”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

Noticing the stand off, the others approached as well.

“It was just something I was missing, yeah.”

“Then let us see it.”

“Can’t.” She replied, clutching the envelope to her chest. “It’s…Ladybug stuff.”

“Hand it over. Right now!”

"NOOO! THESE ARE FOR THE FUTURE OF FASHIOOOON!”

“GIVE US THE PHOTOS!”

“Wait—did she get any of all of us in a group cosplay pic?”

“NOT NOW, CHAT!”

Unfortunately, that small distraction was all she needed to get away.

Viperion, the only one having been pretty nonchalant this whole time, simply watched her leave and the others shout after her.

“…isn’t she going to take our Miraculous back?”

_________________________

Angela sighed, already dreading what was to come.

It was a humiliating end to an already humiliating week as the former akuma victim had been forced to return to her job to go over the updates for the new Ladybug game with the rest of her team.

Said updates were apparently to include maid outfits for the female heroes thanks to one particular coworker who had decided to work on maid outfits for the female heroes instead of the level he was assigned. It had been part of the reason she had been angry enough to be akumatized.

The fact that he was insistent on shoving his maid fetish into the game for no good reason other than having them be eye candy was the other part.

The images in question that he insisted on bringing featured the three female super heroes of the city: Ladybug, Rena Rouge, and Queen Bee.

But not as anyone had ever seen them.

Instead of their usual hero suits, the three girls were portrayed in sultry, even provocative poses. And most notably, all three were wearing some mockery of a French Maid outfit…as what would be believed by Americans, no less.

They might as well have been the initial sketches of pinup posters.

“You can’t still be serious!”

“Hey, I’m not the one who got akumatized just because I was jealous that someone else had a good idea.” He said bitingly and giving her a pointed look, perhaps still a bit bitter of the aforementioned experience that her akumatization had caused.

“It’s not a good idea, John.” Angela countered. “There was no reason to have the girls be running in maid outfits.”

He shrugged. “We could just say an akuma did it. After all, we did just get an akuma who did exactly that.” He said, giving her another look.

She clenched her fists and was about to retort when their team lead entered the room.

The meeting commenced and she’d been forced to bite her tongue. Each of the team members went over their progress and updates for their contribution to the game. Level design. Enemies. Testing.

And then came his grand achievement. Instead of the level he was assigned, he gave scantily clad designs for three of the eight known heroes.

What effort.

“I was thinking we really need to include something to make our game stand out, so I made some extra skins for the heroes.” He bragged, sending her a smug look. “The appeal would sell plenty of copies.”

“Or the controversy.” Angela muttered back before turning to the team lead and hoping that the man leading their group had more empathy…or sense.

The team lead looked over the designs with an analyzing gaze. Tiffeny, despite the initial impression his name would give, was a rather buff man who took no shit. But was also a guy. Who liked guy things. But did those things include young women in maid costumes?

After a moment, Tiffeny dropped the pictures on the table and looked at John incredulously. “You know, if you were going to base skins off recent events, you could at least have been authentic.”

John stared. “What?”

“It was the guys who were affected by Akumaid. Not the girls. If we’re going to do maids, we need to keep it true to life, just like the rest of the designs we’ve included. We talked about this when we started this project.”

“But it’s what the audience wants!” John argued.

“Do you know who comprises the majority of our audience?” Tiffeny asked. “Girls. Girls, gay guys, and those who are exploring their interests. Guys in the outfits would sell leagues more than the girls.” He started ticking his fingers “It’s different. It’s original. And it’s based in actual events. People would love it.”

“But…they’ll love this!”

“Man, if people wanted to see sexy girls in skimpy clothing, they’d play literally any other game! Or watch porn.” Tiffeny explained. “But what game do you know of has had guys in maid outfits?”

“Well...”

“Exactly. We want to stand out. And we even have recent events as justification. So if you’re going to be wasting time you should be spending on level-making to put people in maid skins, then get those male heroes some maid costumes.”

“But that’s not fair!” John exclaimed.

Tiffeny paused at that. “Hmm…you’re right.”

With that, he turned to her. “You’re good at designing. Make some butler outfits for the girls. Something dashing to serve as a counter for the guys.”

Angela blinked in surprise for a moment before smiling.

“Sure thing!”

“You know…” one of the other workers noted. “While we’re on the subject, I WAS thinking of some medieval armor designs for the girls and princess dresses for the guys.”

“Hey yeah! Like a light green for Viperion!”

“Maybe teal might be better?”

“Ooo! How about…”

Soon enough, everyone seemed to be invested in the new plan.

Everyone that is, except John.

“Lovely!” Tiffeny said cheerfully. “Plan it out and bring the concepts to me later.”

With a new task in hand and John’s pouting to forever be a memory to hold onto, it seemed her day was looking up…

_________________________

“That was some akuma battle.” Marinette said as she slid into her seat next to Alya.

The reporter, however, only looked annoyed. “Ladybug had apparently called all the male heroes and I completely missed it!” She groaned and leaned back in her seat, bemoaning the lost opportunity.

If she’d hadn’t been so focused on tracking Nino for the purpose of collecting blackmail ensuring his safety, she would have been able to catch all of the male heroes in their maid outfits.

Marinette smiled. “You know…I may have a connection…”

Alya gasped.

“No.”

Marinette giggled and slid over her phone with a picture showing.

“NO WAY!” She cried out before staring up at Marinette in shock. “Girl, you have to send me these!”

“Wait—you have what now?” Nino had arrived, initially hopeful that he had avoided the worst of that day only to have those hopes immediately dashed upon arriving to see the two girls sharing what could only have been one thing…

“I have pictures of the heroes in their new outfits.” Marinette replied cheerfully as she swiped through her phone. “Oh look, Nino! You’re in here, too!”

“WHAT?! NO!” He shouted, rushing forward.

Marinette quickly grabbed back her phone and hid it in her pocket with an overly sweet and not at all innocent grin.

“Mari, come on, no! Don’t do this to me!” He begged.

“Don’t do this to ME!” Alya cut in. “You can’t just show me that and take it away! That’s just not fair!”

“Don’t worry.” Marinette assured them. “It’s going where all my blackmail material goes.”

“Wait what?”

“Since when do you have blackmail material?”

“Since somebody started a game of ‘let’s take pictures of Marinette while she’s asleep and post them online’.” Marinette replied dryly.

Nino groaned. “Come on! I said I was sorry!”

“And now I can be just as sorry.” She replied blithely.

Which was to say: not sorry at all.

“Come on! Alya made me do it!”

“It was just in fun! Marinette! Please!”

“Do you want me to beg? Cry? I’ll cry.”

“I’ll pay you! Pretty please! At least the heroes if nothing else!”

“Oh no you don’t!”

“My blog NEEDS this!”

Marinette smiled at the minor chaos she had caused as the normally happy couple bickered with each other.

Sweet sweet music.

“Hey, Marinette!”

And speaking of sweet…

She turned to look up at a certain blond-haired model as he arrived at his own desk. Though he seemed to be a bit distracted by the arguing couple.

“Hey, Adrien!” She greeted, for once with no stutter to speak of.

“Hey, um…are they okay?” He asked, gesturing to the two.

“Oh, they’re fine.” She said, waving them off. “Just…a bit excited over the recent akuma.”

At that, Adrien brightened. “Wasn’t it awesome?”

She nodded, trying to keep her laughter inside.

“You…ah…enjoyed yourself then?”

Adrien shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. “Well, it’s not often I get to dress up in a way that’s ‘silly’. Or in anything that isn’t promoting Father’s brand. And I’ve never gotten to cosplay. So it was…really fun.”

Oh. Ouch. Okay, that one kind of hurt. The poor Sunshine Child…

“You know…” Marinette said, leaning over her desk and smiling at him. “I’ve seen a bit of that one anime you mentioned.”

“Cells at Work?” He asked, brightening up.

She nodded. “Mmhmm. I could make you a jacket based off the lead Red Blood Cell. And if you like, I can keep it so you can wear it whenever we hang out.”

He gasped. “Really?”

“Sure! Maybe you can come over sometime so we can try a fitting. We could even play Mecha Strike.”

Adrien beamed. “That sounds great! Thanks, Marinette!”

She waved him off and went back to full sitting in her seat.

Alya and Nino both became distracted from their arguing by the miracle they had just witnessed.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng had just spoken to Adrien Agreste…and not a stutter to be heard!

“What the heck, girl?” Alya whispered, sliding into her seat beside her friend. “Since when could you do THAT and why haven’t you done it sooner? I could swear I saw hearts in his eyes!”

Marinette shrugged, grinning sheepishly. “After seeing Adrien Agreste in a maid dress, I kind of wondered why I was so scared of talking to him to begin with.”

Alya laughed. “Well, at least something good came out of this, then.”

“You know...more good WOULD come out of this if I had pics of those heroes..."

“Really, Alya?”

“You’re pretty much the only one who managed to get any shots of the male heroes!” Alya exclaimed. “Seriously, how?!”

Marinette giggled.

“Just lucky, I guess.”

________________________

OMAKE 1:

Knock! Knock!

“Felix?” His mother called on the other side of the locked and barricaded door. “Will you be coming out?”

“That depends. Do you have a camera?”

A pause. Which was all the answer he needed.

“Then no.”

OMAKE 2:

Fortunately, in the midst of their searching, the team had managed to find the akuma and her primary target, getting between the two.

“So what happened?” Ladybug asked him.

John gripped his skirt, nervously. “She’s my coworker in developing a new video game and she didn’t like my input.”

“What set her off?”

The guy rolled his eyes. “She’s one of those types who wants to take the fun out of video games.”

“What?” Ladybug blinked.

“Okay, so I wanted to put some maid costumes in the game! It was just for fun! Besides, it would have added a bit of pizazz! Something for the players to enjoy!”

“You could just try making a good game.” Pegasus pointed out. “If you have to rely on a cheap gimmick to get buyers, it may not be a good product.”

"I'm sorry, really! I mean, sure, I'm still going to put it in the game, because who wouldn't want hot maids, but still! That doesn't mean I deserve this!"

The akuma raised her fist and shouted at him. “THEY ARE HEROES, DAMMIT! THEY DESERVE BETTER THAN MAID SKINS JUST BECAUSE THEY’RE GIRLS!”

Ladybug blanched. “Wait…is the game about me?”

Pegasus coughed and looked away. “There have been…rumors, yes.”

Viperion tilted his head. “That seems like a double standard though…since we’re the ones in maid outfits...”

“Not the point, Viperion!”

Ladybug frowned.

“I don’t think I want to help now.”

“Ladybug!”

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