#and on top of that still trying to have some kind of semblance of a social life

[rosaaeles]

everything will be going fine and then i remember the sheer amount of uni work i have due in january that i haven’t started yet and i actually feel like i’m going to throw up

[whateveriwant]

Task force 141 reacting to their very pregnant wife still trying to clean, cook etc

This turned more into ‘Task force 141 preventing their very pregnant wife from trying to clean, cook, etc’ lmaooooo I hope that's alright

Price

HA! Good one!

No seriously, it's actually hilarious that you think you'd do anything for yourself when your hubby's around

That man has been waiting on you hand and foot since you first got together. So now that you're pregnant and you think he'd let you so much as lift a finger? You must have a serious case of pregnancy brain, sweetheart

Price is doing all the cooking, the cleaning, the running errands, etc. throughout the entirety of your pregnancy (and at least the first several months postpartum)

He's kept you practically bed bound these last few months to the point where you think there's a perfect indent of your body molded into the mattress

Seven months in, he's suddenly called away to a quick mission halfway across the globe, and you think finally you'll get some of your autonomy back...

Well, think again because who should show up at your door the next morning than your mother-in-law herself, ready to pick up where her son left off

She came at the behest of your husband, of course, and was armed with a detailed set of care instructions

What does your husband think you are? Some sort of one-of-a-kind, priceless artifact that needs special handling? (Actually that's exactly what you are. Price-less… I'll see myself out 🚶🏻‍♀️)

Ghost

When it comes to having some semblance of independence during your pregnancy, Ghost will give you a bit of a longer leash than Price, but only just so

You’re going for a walk around the neighborhood? Hold on, let him grab his coat to join you. Or you're going into the backyard to tend the garden? He'll pull the weeds while you water the plants

But when it comes to letting you do certain things, there are some hard nos that he will absolutely not budge on

You try to use a stepladder to reach the top of the cupboard? Stop! You'll break your neck! You try to pick up anything heavier than 10 pounds? Stop! Give it here! You try to drive?... Don't even fuckin' think about it, precious.

The farther along your pregnancy progresses, the better he gets at predicting (and intercepting) your next move

You were gonna do laundry today? Well, wouldn't you know, he's already got a load going in the washer. You were about to make dinner? Well shucks, he just ordered takeaway from that Greek place you love

His ability to read your mind is honestly impressive once you get past how damn annoying you find it. Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you're incapable of fending for yourself, and you're tired of him acting as if otherwise

But really, you can never get mad at anything he does for you. After all, what kind of a husband would he be if he didn't take care of his missus and your little one?

Soap

If you take Ghost’s cautiousness, mix it with Price’s thoroughness, and crank it up to an 11, you get Soap

From the moment he found out you were pregnant, he put your house into full lockdown mode, stopping just short of booby trapping the front door in case you got any funny ideas

You want some fresh air? Just open a window. You want to go for a walk and stretch your legs? Just take a few turns about the living room like you're some Austenian heroine

Don't let him catch you doing any kind of physical labor, because so help him Jesus he will grab a spray bottle and use it like you're a feral alleycat he's trying to house-train (he wouldn't really... but don't test him)

You try to unload the dishwasher? Ehrr! Wrong move. You try to remake the bed? Ehrr! Nice try. You try to mop up your own mess. Ehrr! Enough already. You try to– OCH, WOULD YE BLOODY SIT DOWN, WOMAN?!

For nine long months during his requested leave from work, your husband is attached to you like some kind of loving, smothering barnacle

But doesn't he miss his job, or the lads for that matter? What if the world needs saving? What will they do without him?

Well, (in his exact words) fuck the rest of the world! You're his world, bonnie, and he'll give you everything you could ever wish for and then some

Gaz

By far, you have the most independence with Gaz than you would with any of the other three men… at least, at the beginning of your pregnancy, that is

Once you get to around five or six months he becomes just as helicopter-y as all the others; he's just ever so slightly more bearable, perhaps

There's lots of peeking his head around the corner to check on you throughout the day or appearing seemingly out of thin air whenever you're doing something he'd rather you wouldn't

You've lost count of the number of times you've been in the middle of cooking or hanging up the laundry or whatever and his hand has suddenly appeared out of nowhere, gently taking the object from you before directing you to sit and rest

And like, look. He knows you can handle yourself. He knows you could conquer the whole world if you wanted to. That's one of the things he loves about you the most

But seeing you like this – so fragile, so vulnerable, so beautiful and soft and pregnant with his child; his child – it just… It makes him…

He just needs to do these things for you, alright, love? Just let him take care of you, please? Would you let him do that?

You already have so much you have to carry. Let him ease some of the burden off your shoulders. Let him do these small things for you because they don't even compare to all that you're doing for him 🥲

[sarahghetti]

blood on your lies; m.s.

pairing: marc spector x reader centric, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: after an argument with marc, you go missing. he tears himself apart trying to find you.

warnings: a dive into the mind of marc spector, angst, hurt with some comfort (i.e. jake and steven), kidnapping, vague descriptions of violence.

word count: 3.0k

notes: kind of a continuation of all the echoes in my mind, but can be read as a standalone. written as part of the @moonknight-events bingo! prompt: "insecure", I promise that not all my entries will be this sad lol

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

You’re not home yet.

It’s nearly been three hours. Marc paces the apartment like a caged animal, likely wearing the hardwood underneath his feet. Steven and Jake have run their course about how stupid he is, how he shouldn’t have said what he said, how he should’ve run after you the second you stepped out the door—

But jokes on them. There can be no harsher critic of Marc than Marc himself.

He checks his phone again in case you’ve responded to his many texts and calls, but there’s nothing. As far as he knows, you haven’t even seen any of it.

His temper still lingers under their skin, and he holds it tight with both hands; anger is easy. It’s easier than admitting that the peaks in his heartrate and the sweat on his brow is from anything other than his own self-flagellation.

Anger is familiar.

This, however? The waiting for you to walk through the door, or to give them any sign of life—so much of his sanity rests in the comfort of you being safe. Marc didn’t realize how lucky he was to not know what this was like. Now, he doesn’t know if he can ever forget it.

Jake’s voice is clipped. “Check again.”

They’re all on edge, and it’s terrible. Most of the time, at least one of them manages to keep a level head during stressful situations—usually Marc. Jake is prone to anger, Steven to anxiousness.

“Marc!” Steven yanks him out of his head, and his phone is in his hand without any memory of having taken it out of his pocket. He does a dutiful look through his notifications—nothing.

Three sets of disappointment and concern pile on top of one another and drags them all down so much further.

“Do…” Steven’s voice is quiet. Unsure. “Do you think something might’ve happened to her?”

There is no dissenting opinion, no devil’s advocate. Marc doesn’t try to calm his alters down, and only clenches his jaw.

You’ve never gone quiet on them like this. They’ve never let you leave the flat at night like this. They always opted to be the one to go take a walk because even in the middle of an argument, they wouldn’t risk your safety.

The lingering silence is Steven’s answer.

When the suit wraps itself around his body, the accompanying burst of power in his veins is suffocating. His wounds begin to numb over, but Marc barely notices. He hasn’t spared them a thought since you left.

The cool air does nothing to assuage him. Clouds blot out the sky, leaving nothing but a murky backdrop as he scales up the nearest building for a vantage point. A quick scan over the horizon—nothing. Not a hint of your silhouette under the streetlights, and a lump forms in his throat.

“Khonshu!”

A gust of wind signals the god’s arrival, who, even with a bird’s skull for a head, looks remarkably bored as Marc is clinging to any semblance of sanity. He must already know what’s going on but frustratingly just spreads out his hands, a silent question—what?

Marc grits his teeth. “Where is she?”

“Who?”

“Khonshu.” The name is a snarl on his lips.

He simply scoffs. “You have the gall to make demands? As if I need to be involved with your lover’s spat?”

“She’s not answering her phone.”

A lingering pause.

“She might be in danger,” Marc snaps, trying to get the god to understand even a fraction of the severity of the situation. They might bloody their hands night after night, staining London’s streets each time they go out on patrol, but it’s never enough. There are always more monsters to take their place, and the thought that you might have run into one of them—

Khonshu cocks his head. “Maybe she’s just finally had enough of you.”

Marc hates how that’s a possibility. Still, desperation crawls out of his throat. “Can you find her?”

Khonshu turns to look over the city, the silence stretching out between them. Whatever divinity he’s channeling, Marc isn’t privy to; all he can do is stand there like a useless dumbass and wait for some hint of you to show up on the god’s radar. Even if you had had enough and never want to see him again—he’ll swallow down that fate in stride as long as he knows that you’re safe.

When Khonshu finally breaks from searching, his head cocks slightly to the side. “Interesting.”

This is hardly the time for theatrics. “Do not—”

“I cannot find her,” the god admits. Not apologetic or ashamed, but—awed. “Where she is right now, her footsteps through the city—there is nothing, Marc Spector. There’s not even a trace of her in your own home.”

The blood rushes in his ears. His chest constricts until he can barely breathe at all. Marc barely manages to wrap his head around the information before Jake and Steven come roaring back again, shocked and confused.

“Stupid fucking bird—”

“She was right here!

“Let me out, pendejo, I swear—”

“What the bloody hell does he mean—”

“How?” Is all Marc manages to get out, every one of his senses on overload.

“Something is hiding her from me; whatever took your lover is very powerful indeed.”

Took. Not a single doubt about it now: something took you. Kidnapped you because Marc couldn’t keep it together for ten-fucking-minutes. Jake and Steven can prattle all they want in the background—his mission is clear.

“Where do we start?”

-

The flat seems even bleaker when they return, your absence all the more chilling. Steven clamours to take the reins with the obvious assumption that research is the first step they need to take, but that’s quickly dashed away when Khonshu returns with a name.

“Apep.” God of darkness and disorder, Steven supplies from their head. “He’s been cast away for eons, but there have always been those trying to get him to return.”

“It’s another cult?”

Jake swears under his breath. “Figures.”

Ignoring them, Marc presses on. “Who are we dealing with now?”

“If it were easy to find them, I would’ve done it already,” Khonshu bristles. “Apep is helping them—hiding them as they work. I will continue to do what I can.”

“Fine.”

The god disappears in a whirlwind of loose papers, and Marc switches gears. Steven might have the advantage in research, but tracking? The skills he’s honed as a Marine and as a mercenary wait for him like an old pair of shoes; the others can’t help but let him work in peace.

He finds some old tourist map that spans over the city and unfolds it across the dining table. There are only so many places you would’ve gone, so many routes you could’ve taken. London doesn’t become deserted at night and barring any divine intervention, kidnapping someone would cause a scene—you would have caused a scene, he thinks, imagining you fighting tooth and nail against your assailants, screaming for someone to help—

Marc closes his eyes, clenches his jaw. A wave of pain washes over him, and he languishes in it for a minute, not a moment more.

His eyes reopen, spots dancing across his vision as he analyzes the map again. The feeling has been sealed shut into a box, shoved into a corner of his mind. Steve would throw a fit about his mental state if it were any other time, lecturing him on coping mechanisms and compartmentalization, but there’s no time for him to feel sorry for himself.

He grits his teeth and refocuses his train of thought. If they’re up against a cult, then they probably would’ve sent multiple people to grab you. Would’ve had to lure you somewhere quiet if it was by force, or they could have convinced you to go with them somehow. Or threatened you. Or…

The more he gets into it, the more he feels himself detaching from the situation, piece-by-piece. The memory of you is like a minefield; it’s a testament to his will that he can recall anything about you without breaking down. What you were wearing—and not the look on your face—when you left. Your favourite park—and not how your hand fits perfectly into his as you walked down the paths—that you might have passed through.

He reduces you to intel, just another folder on his desk. It’s not unfamiliar to him. He wouldn’t have made it this far if he couldn’t take an objective approach to his work. But it’s different because it’s you, because the stakes include you, and when he looks up to try to ground himself again, he spots your favourite mug on the coffee table. Half-empty.

-

If Layla were here.

The words bounce around his head as Marc stares up at the ceiling. He didn’t mean it. Steven and Jake are both better with words than Marc, but he’s never loved you any less—he’s never wanted you to be anyone but yourself.

It’s been almost two days since you left, and it’s only now that he’s allowed himself to be corralled into bed. His grip of the hot seat is ironclad, however, which means that the body isn’t getting any sleep tonight. The sun will rise soon, and he’ll pick up his work right where he left off.

Quietly, from the back of his head: “Marc?”

“Could’ve taken the victim anywhere,” Marc murmurs, mind still whirring in the dark.

“’Victim’?” Steven’s voice shifts to be full of indignance. “How could you possibly call her that?”

“Ay, easy on him,” Jake pipes up. For Jake to immediately to jump to his defence means that Marc must be worse off than he thought, but he can’t bring himself to care. “How’s it going, hombre?”

“No sightings on any security cameras. Nothing reported to the cops.” Hours of his time—your time—summarized in a breath. His face remains blank. “I’m going to sweep the remaining areas tomorrow. Find some people who might’ve seen something.”

He’s been doing nothing but cross possibilities off his list. It’s barely any progress and his remaining leads are weak, but his resolve is as strong as ever.

“Nothing from Khonshu?”

“No.” Marc has no idea what the god is doing.

They lay in silence for a bit, listening to the maddening tick-tick-tick of the clock on the wall. Anger is unsustainable, but Marc wishes that they’d return to yelling at him again. At least he knows what to do with that.

Instead, all he gets is Steven’s restrained tone: “Something has to change, you know.”

“Are you really telling me to go to therapy right now?”

“Can’t do much else.” For a moment, Steven’s bitterness resonates. There’s another conversation to be had here—one about their individual capabilities and protective natures—but Marc lets it rest for the night. He knows he’d be driven up the wall if their situation was reversed, if you were in danger and he had to rely on someone else to save you.

He still deflects. “Not the time for this.”

“Maybe not,” Steven concedes, “but you need help, Marc.”

Distantly, Marc recognizes that he’s always needed help. Even after reconciling with Steven and Jake, even after meeting you—the wounds are still there, despite how hard he’s tried to ignore them. He’s stubborn and self-destructive, not stupid.

“We’re with you, always,” Jake adds. Discomfort crawls under Marc’s skin from the supportive words, and he knows that his alters are well aware of it. It’s never stopped them, of course.

“We can talk about this after—after we save her.”

A general murmur of consensus. Marc quickly regains his footing, eager to move on from this line of conversation.

“I’ll find something. Or Khonshu will.” Steady and reassured—trying to convince them and himself. “We’ll get her back.”

Steven’s voice is small, even in the confines of their head. “But why would they take her in the first place?”

-

“He needs an avatar?” The body hasn’t slept in days. That void of feeling pulses with anger, desperation, fear—it simmers low in their gut, a torch passed along between them.

“Apep will need a vessel once they release him.”

“Here I thought one of his cultists would volunteer.”

Khonshu taps his staff against the ground thoughtfully. “They knew we would come after them, and we’re not the only ones.”

For the briefest of moments, Marc feels hopeful, like the odds aren’t as stacked against them as they thought. It disappears just as fast—Khonshu doesn’t deliver hope. The blood drains out of his face as he actually starts to consider the god’s words.

“If Apep possesses your precious lover, would you really be able to stop her? To take up arms against her?”

Khonshu leans in close then, hollowed eyes burrowing into him.

“Would you let others do the same?”

-

Over the next week, things begin to look up.

Someone’s girlfriend’s cousin says that they saw someone who looked like you walking down The Mall. There’s a fuzzy image of a car with no license plates. Khonshu catches the briefest hint of you on Westminster Bridge and follows you far, far east—it’s a mere grain of information that’s slipped through Apep’s power, but it’s enough for Marc.

They find the car abandoned in Dover, near the water. It rules out France—driving through the Eurochannel would’ve been the fastest route there, after all. Trying to take a public ferry would’ve been stupid with a captive, which means that they probably chartered or owned a boat.

The remaining pieces fall into place, and he can feel the anticipation from the others build in the background. Marc has led the charge so far with very few breaks to let Steven and Jake breathe a little. Steven misses you so much, he cries whenever he fronts. Jake has gone eerily quiet, and Marc knows what’s simmering underneath the surface; when the fighting starts, Jake will be called to action. His excitement is brutal.

It's all coming to an end soon. Laying on some dirt in the Norwegian countryside, shrouded in darkness, Marc’s never seen more stars in his life. If he’s right—and he is right—they’ll be bringing you to a nearby compound for the final step of their ritual. He couldn’t care less about the how or why. Come the morning, you’ll be here. Marc will get them inside. Jake will get to you. And then…

Marc will probably never be the partner that you deserve, and you never should’ve been subjected to his life. To sleepless nights and patching up his injuries and comforting him after nightmares that has him thrashing in the sheets—

But he can’t survive without you. It’s a simple little fact that gives him the power to move mountains; there are none bigger than the mess of his own head.

Exhaustion creeps up on him, and he can’t help but struggle against it. Fighting to keep his eyes open, his thoughts spill into the air. “Need to take care of her first.”

“Taking care of yourself is taking care of her,” Steven says gently. Have they had this conversation already? Marc’s been so singled in on this mission that everything else has fallen by the wayside. He can’t remember the last thing he ate, or what he’s wearing under the suit. The ground is the softest thing he’s ever felt.

If there’s any comparison to be made between you and Layla, it’s that he’s failed both of you. Maybe he could be different this time. Even if you decide that you want nothing to do with him after all this, he could still get help. He’ll have Steven and Jake. He’ll have himself and his scrappy resolve and the memories of this heart-aching pain, and maybe he’ll finally get better.

Marc lets his eyes close; the body needs rest for what’s to come. You don’t deserve any less than their best.

Just a few more hours.

-

Marc watches the fight from their headspace. Jake doesn’t miss a single shot and never so much as falters when one of them manages to land a hit. This is the longest break Marc’s gotten from fronting in a while, but he can’t bring himself to look away.

Jake loops their arm around the neck of cultist unlucky enough to be nearby, gripping his hair so hard Marc can nearly feel the strands through his fingers, feel it when Jake jerks their arm to the side and twists—

-

Your handlers left you alone in another room with nothing but a hard cot to curl into as you waited for them to retrieve you again. Locked inside but unbound—Marc hates how you startle when he breaks through the door.

Eyes wide, your mouth opens and closes multiple times without success. “You—you came.”

Marc wishes there weren’t so much surprise in your tone. Of course he came for you, it was never a choice for him—for any of them.

But clearly there was a part of you that thought he wouldn’t, wasn’t there? That he might just leave you in the clutches of some power-hungry cult because—because what, you’re not his ex-wife? Because you think he doesn’t love you?

The need to rectify that pierces his heart. He pulls you close, knuckles white in your shirt. “I love you.”

You shake in his arms. “Marc—”

“I love you.”

The words don’t stop; they fall from his lips like a prayer. Even as you weep, soaking the suit with your tears, he says it. I love you. I love you. I love you. In every variation, in every way—he’ll never let you believe otherwise again. He’ll say it over and over, work tirelessly to become the man you both deserve. For the rest of your lives. For the rest of time.

However long you’ll give him.

[sakkiichi]

CRUEL SUMMER.

the summer heat is becoming unbearable, but if you can be with him, you think you’ll survive this unforgiving weather.

ft. Kaedehara Kazuha, Scaramouche/Wanderer, Xiao, Kaveh, Alhaitham, Kaeya x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, romance, a tiny little bit suggestive. reader’s hair is long enough to be put into a ponytail in Kaveh’s.

word count: 1.6k.

decided to try this other layout formatting to make the post more pleasing (hopefully haha), hope you enjoy <3

✧ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

If you didn’t know him so well, you’d think he’s doing this on purpose.

White short sleeved t-shirt on, Kazuha sits by your living room’s fan.

A strawberry popsicle in his mouth, he looks unfairly good with sweaty strands framing his face, as he reaches to tie his hair up into a high ponytail.

You want to mess it up. You think, cheeks heated, and not because of the weather.

You watch with envy as droplets slide down the vibrant popsicle on your boyfriend’s mouth.

And then, a devilish idea pops into your mind.

“Kazu…” you call him, a mask of innocence over your less demure intentions. “Can I have a taste?”

Sunset eyes set on you, soft pink lips separating from the icy treat.

“Of course, my dove.” He smiles, offering you the ice pop.

With your tongue sticking out the corner of your lips, your hand closes over his.

Your gaze, however, settles for another strawberry hued treat.

You lean in, and Kazuha’s lips taste like frozen sugar. The hold you had on his hand tightens, as his free one reaches up to cup your cheek, your hand on top of his.

You feel cool droplets from the melting ice cream on your skin, the wind from the nearby fan cooling you off.

When you pull away for air, your lips close around the melting sweet, still in Kazuha’s hand, your eyes never leaving his.

“Now I want a taste, hummingbird.” The samurai utters, taking your chin in between his fingers, guiding your kiss to him once more.

✧ SCARAMOUCHE

He won’t admit it, but your whining’s kind of cute.

Your form laying on the bed, splayed out upside down, your legs kicking every now and then for some semblance of air.

He certainly wants to steal the air off your lungs right now.

“Kuniiiii!” You look at him, a pout he wants to kiss off all too enticing on your lips. “It’s so hot…”

He sighs, exasperated. Most of his clothes have been discarded already, the black tank top in stark contrast to his pale skin doing nothing to help lower your temperature.

“How many more times are you gonna say it?” The wanderer huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m gonna melt into a puddle…” You complain, looking at the night dawning out the window, hoping the sunset brings at least a slight breeze.

“Ugh, you’re insufferable!” Are the words that contradict the spreading pink blooms on your lover’s cheeks. “Give me your hand.”

You stare back at him, tilting your head to the side from your upended position.

“Come on, I’m gonna do something about this heat.” He spats, the fake malice melting off his tone at your sparkly eyed gaze.

Standing up, you rush to your wanderer, putting your hand in his perfectly spotless one.

The air you so desperately craved leaves your lungs momentarily when his other arm hooks under your thighs, starlight kissing your skin the moment he leaps out the open window.

You brace yourself for impact.

“Open your eyes, silly.” You hear, followed by a flick to your forehead.

Galaxy-like eyes regard you, soft, akin to the polarity of a moon against the dusky edges of his smirk. “Didn’t you like the stars? It’s relatively cool here too.” The wandering doll states, landing on a corner of the rooftop.

The scent of nearby wisteria surrounds you when your arms wrap around him, your head nuzzling into his chest.

“Thank you, Scara.” You softly whisper.

“Weren’t you hot?” He retorts at your closeness, tone amused, arms tightening around you.

He never cared for the stars above, and certainly not now that you make constellations shine in the firmaments of his stare.

✧ XIAO

Xiao wonders if you have a fever.

Your skin is all hot, you lay down more than usual, you’re not hungry, and you won’t stop shifting in bed.

He is worried. Is this because of his karma? The yaksha ponders, lower lip caught between his teeth, his spoon picking at the frozen almond tofu he would have otherwise devoured in seconds.

“Xiao?” You ask, sitting by his side, on a shaded area of Wangshu Inn’s balcony. “Is everything okay?”

Sharp golden eyes set on yours. Dark shadows pool under your stare. You didn’t sleep well, again.

“Qingxin…” the conqueror of demons begins. “You look tired… are you sick? Did I do something wrong?” Xiao worries, silk flowers blossoming on his pale cheeks.

You sigh heavily, laying down with your head over his thigh.

“I’m not sick, love…” You tell him, your hand reaching up to cup his face. “It’s just… this heat is a bit too much…” You smile, a little strained.

“I see…” He breathes, relief lacing his tone. Then, you feel something cool against your forehead.

“Xiao, what-“

“This will help.” He mutters, face still a crimson watercolor, as he awkwardly holds the cool almond tofu plate over your temple. “Here, have some too.” He mumbles, busying himself with scooping up some, bringing the spoon to your parched lips.

You swallow the treat, eyes focused on his features, the scorching breeze combing through the dark stands of his hair.

“You’re so cute, Xiao.” You smile up at him.

Now, he’s the one having a heat stroke.

✧ KAVEH

Why did you decide on today of all days to tidy up his study, you might never know.

Droplets of sweat uncomfortably trickle down your neck and back, your shirt sticking to your skin.

You huff, running a hand through your sweat dampened hair.

Now, of all times you just had to forget to bring a hair tie. Sighing, you resign yourself to suffer moving yet another box, strands sticking to your face and the back of your neck.

“My darling,” Your lover delicately calls, his voice honey sweet. “Allow me.” Kaveh’s hands rest on your shoulders, moving up to your hair, gathering it at the back of your head carefully.

“Mmm…” You hum at the sensation, eyelids briefly fluttering closed. “This is nice.” You sing, as you sway against the architect.

He chuckles.

“I can’t let my gorgeous padisarah suffocate in this weather, now, can I?”

You turn around, hair now neatly tied, a golden shimmery scrunchie holding it into a ponytail.

“Well, you could effectively avoid that keeping the room tidy.” You tease, bopping his nose.

“Fair…” Kaveh mumbles, zaytun peach pink painted on his cheeks.

You let out a soft laugh, lips tenderly brushing against his pouty ones.

If you get to spend moments like this with him, you can endure this.

✧ ALHAITHAM

Sometimes, you think there is no way your boyfriend is human.

How can he, in this weather, be reading his book so nonchalantly, completely unbothered by the unforgiving rays of the midday sun?

You rest your cheek on your crossed arms, keeping you afloat on the edge of the swimming pool.

“Are you really not going to come take a bath, Alhaitham?”

The scribe momentarily looks up from the tome, vibrant turquoise leveling you before returning his gaze to the words.

“I’m fine, [Y/n].” Your partner utters, flatly.

You ‘ugh’.

“Rude!” You whine, as you splash a wave in Alhaitham’s direction, soaking his t-shirt, the book on his hands somehow still perfectly dry.

You turn around, your back to him, resting against the pool’s wall.

Suddenly, you feel a strong hand tilting your chin upwards.

Silver and teal flood your vision before your lover kisses the corners of your mouth, tongue swiping over the pretty pink of your moist lips.

You smile into the kiss, but right as you were going to deepen it, the former acting grand sage pulls away.

“Ah- ah.” He tuts, smirk outlined in his handsome features. “I’m afraid not now, sweetheart.”

You whine in response.

“And you’re lucky the book is dry.” Alhaitham answers you, already walking away, that grin still etched on his face. “Let’s talk about it tonight.” Is the scribe’s last statement before immersing himself in his read again.

✧ KAEYA

As enchanting as the Veluriyam Mirage is, you can’t deny the rainforest climate is a bit too warm.

The humidity and high temperature are certainly not helping your state, as Klee urges you to follow her, claiming she wants to ride the choo-choo cart again.

How could you deny her? When her hopeful eyes and bright smile expectantly awaited your answer? When she looks so excited in her new mage costume?

So, you push through, panting as the girl runs along in front of you.

When she stops near Silver Bottle Courtyard to play with some hydro eidolons, however, you are thankful. And you certainly don’t pass up the chance to freshen up and drink some water in the nearby fountain.

“Well, someone looks tired.” A familiar voice speaks.

“Kaeya…” you weakly call, faint smile tugging at your lips.

The swordsman, or rather, bandit now, steps closer to you, sitting himself next to you on the fountain’s stone edge.

“Allow this thief to cool you down a little, darling.” He offers, dipping his fingers ringed in gold on the crystalline waters.

Slipping his hands under your shirt, the water cools at Kaeya’s contact with your skin, eliciting pleased sighs from you.

“I take it this is better?” Your knight teases, dark manicured fingers caressing your nape.

“Much better.” You announce, with a satisfied smile. “If you’re going to do this, you can steal me away any time, my bandit.” You tease.

“Oh, don’t ever doubt it, beautiful.” He flirts back, with a kiss to the side of your neck.

[mitsies]

isagi yoichi can’t take his eyes off you.

you’re not even wearing anything special— an old shirt that’s been demoted to pajamas and some short shorts that ride up dangerously high. your hair is tousled and in your face in a less-than-elegant way, and sleep drags at your eyelids. you’re not quite put together, not quite what you would consider presentable. but he’s still unable to look at anything but you.

today marks the first day of living in your new shared apartment. all the big furniture has been moved in, including the couch which is what the both of you were sat on now. your laptop, propped up on a box rather than a stand, plays some cheaply made film which you insist was really good. but you look more asleep than awake, so isagi doubts that you agree with your own sentiment. you’re exhausted, that much is obvious. he would be too, if your company didn’t always give him energy.

you’re curled into his side like a cat, head resting on his shoulder staring blankly at the screen. your shirt rides up in some places revealing lengths of skin that glow beneath the moonlight that slips in through the apartment’s windows. late night air filters in but all he really wants to breath in is you, and how you smell, and how you taste.

you must’ve noticed his gaze fixed on you at some point, because you turn your head to meet his eyes. you’re so pretty, he thinks, like this. laying on him, so beautiful, like an oil painting. he thinks you look unreal. a hand skims down your side, planting itself on your hip as he tries to bring you closer still. you hum, “yoichi?”

“yeah, babe?”

you purse your lips. “is there something on my face, or what?”

isagi blinks at you. “no, you’re good. why?”

“so you’re just staring at me, then.”

heat rises to his ears as he tries to fight a grin. god, he’s so in love with you— your words, your face, your whole entire being. “can’t a guy just appreciate his amazing, lovely, cool, spectacular girlfriend?”

you’re not stupid. you know that look, that hunger, those eyes. and the night isn’t over yet, you decide, as you rise from your place on his side, dragging yourself to be seated on his lap. he’s so stupidly enamoured by you, how you fit him above him so perfectly, and how you would fit even better beneath him. his hand finds your thighs and yours move to his jaw. he’s sure he’s equally a mess, hair mussed and bags beneath his eyes, but he’s also sure that he’s looking at you like you’re a greek god, and you’ve personally hung all the stars in the sky. some kind of angel, meant only for him.

“add a few more adjectives and we have a deal,” you tease, breath ghosting his cheek. he shivers beneath you. you know what you’re getting into.

it’s maybe 2 in the morning. the movie is still running on the laptop. the only things unpacked are a set of dishes, the couch, the bed, and an armoire. you’re a mess, he is too, and you’re both dead tired, but when he kisses you it’s like none of that really matters anymore.

his palms and fingers are digging into the flesh of your thighs, hot and heavy and demanding, as he tries to close any semblance of distance left. greedy, he’s so greedy, with how he swallows the surprised noise you let out when his teeth bite your bottom lip. you’re suddenly not so tired anymore, as you all but melt into his touch. pliant like a sculptor and his art, you allow isagi you meld you into anything he wants you to be, anything and more. a hand remaining on his jaw, the other travels to his hair as you try to pull him closer.

when the both of you finally break away for air, he can’t help but think you look even better now. breathless, your mouth hangs open a little as you breathe in sharp mouthfuls of air. your lips are reddened and swollen, and your pupils are blown up and god, you’ve got to be some kind of divine figure sitting on top of him like that. and he wants to ruin you.

the night is only young. the movie is almost over on the laptop screen. the only furniture that’s been unpacked is this couch, and your new bed. he grins at you, and it’s all teeth. (you know what you’re getting into.)

isagi yoichi can’t take his eyes off you.

[perlelune]

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | vi.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

"You know you shouldn’t lead him on like that," Mindy muses from your bed, her eyes not lifting from the Stephen King novel she’s engrossed in. 

You place your phone above the vanity drawer after hanging up. You just decided on another study meetup with Ethan. 

It’s been a few weeks since he began tutoring you. There’s been a sharp improvement in your grades and you’re starting to believe that maybe you’ll be able to graduate just like the rest of your friends. 

Before, all those things felt as unreachable as the stars in the sky. But Ethan, with his kindness and unlimited supply of patience, made it a reality. 

Sure, you won’t be a top student anytime soon, but at least now there’s hope of you not failing the course and falling behind. 

"What? I’m not leading him on. Ethan and I are just friends," you defend, puckering your lips as you apply the finishing touches to your makeup before the big game. Your gaze keeps bouncing to the clock. The playoffs begin in a little less than an hour. 

Tensions are high tonight. This is no regular game as whichever team wins will go on to compete in the national championship. 

It’s one of the reasons Chad and most of the guys on the team have been in a weird mood all week. 

Besides, honor’s at stake when a team plays on their own turf. 

The pressure’s been off the charts for the cheer squad too, Alana having run the team into the ground to perform well today and not miss a single step. 

Despite how exhausted you are, you’re almost thankful for that. Focusing on cheerleading has helped you file away that god awful night. 

The humiliation you experienced still burns a hole inside you whenever you remember it.

While you can’t quite shake the lingering sensation of being watched, you can at least try to reclaim a semblance of normalcy. 

Hopefully Ghostface had his fill of tormenting you and won’t do anything like that ever again. 

Mindy arches her brow and scoffs, "It’s pretty obvious he’s got some desperate puppy crush on you." Under her breath, she mumbles, "...And I’m still not entirely convinced he’s not Ghostface."

You pause, the tip of your lipstick almost snapping as you press it tight against your mouth. You unleash a heavy sigh and whirl to her, brows drawing together.

"Mindy, please. Not that again," you plead. 

It's not the first time your best friend has shared her doubts regarding Ethan and you wager it won't be the last.

Every time she catches you texting him or hanging out, disapproval paints her features. She also squints and gestures at him that she’s watching him whenever she crosses paths with him. 

It saddens you that she can’t get along with him and won’t relent regarding her suspicions. 

Ethan’s helped you so much. It’s unfair that your best friend keeps claiming he’s a murderer without any evidence to back it up. 

And outside of tutoring, he’s been a great friend to you, always here to wipe your tears and listen to you talk about anything, however trivial. Every time you ramble on about cartoons, your collection of stuffed animals and how you’d love to get more, clothes or anything really…Ethan wears that same fond smile on his face. 

Outside of Chad, you never had a guy best friend. Unfortunately since getting into college, you haven’t seen much of him since he’s so well liked and has developed such a large circle of friends. 

So Ethan’s a breath of fresh air. 

You relish the ability to talk without fear of judgment or being belittled for the things you pluck joy from or how forgetful and absentminded you can be sometimes. 

Ethan has not made fun of you once for misremembering a word or your tendency to get lost around campus. Instead, he escorted you to class and promised to be with you more often so it doesn’t happen. He also agreed with you that it’s not your fault because every building looks the same, which everyone in your friend group laughed at you for mentioning before.

Mindy leaps from the bed, exclaiming, "Come on, Ethan? Shy, dorky guy who no one suspects because he’s so shy and dorky." She lets out a humorless laugh. "Maybe he went all 'if I can’t have you, no one can' and decided to get rid of the competition…permanently."

Your eyes roll as she concludes her theory with a repeated stabbing motion towards her throat.  

"You’re ridiculous." You get back to gauging your reflection. As you adjust the pink bow in your hair, you add, "Ethan’s cool. And I can actually understand some of the stuff Professor Atkins says in class now thanks to him."

In the mirror, you watch a sullen Mindy fold her arms behind you. 

"I still don’t trust him." She flicks her hands skyward and exhales in defeat. "But I can’t tell you who to hang out with."

You step away from the vanity to make your way to your pouting best friend. She accepts your hug, a deep scowl still etched on her face. 

"Let’s just drop it, okay?" you offer. "I hate arguing with you."

Mindy sighs against your shoulder.

"I’m just trying to keep you safe."

Leaning back, you squeeze her shoulders and smile. 

"I know, and I love you for it…but you gotta ease off him, Min." She groans at that, tossing herself back onto your bed with her arms spread. As she glowers at the ceiling, you maintain, "Ethan’s been an amazing friend to me."

More curses are grumbled under her breath. Shoulders slumping, you elect to give it a rest and stop trying to convince her. 

You know how stubborn Mindy can be. There will be no changing her mind tonight, or anytime soon. 

Casting the upsetting topic aside, you hop to the center of the room and spin in your cheerleader outfit.

"How do I look?"

"Like a fembot specifically designed to appeal to the male gaze," Mindy deadpans. 

You angle your head sideways. "Is that a good thing or bad thing?"

She chuckles and smiles at you before elaborating, "You look smoking hot, babe." The befuddled frown on your face vanishes, an elated grin supplanting it. Mindy returns to her reading and gives you a thumbs-up. "Break a leg."

Grimacing, you grab your pom-poms from underneath your bed and head for the door. 

"Hopefully not or Alana will kill me."

You’re on your way to meet up with your squad when you stumble upon Ethan in the hallway. As usual, he’s dressed simply in a blue button-up and dark slacks, damp locks of his curly mane kissing his forehead. 

He greets you in that bashful way he does while you beam at him, shaking your pom-poms. 

You jog in his direction with a bounce in each step.

"Ethan, hey!"

His gaze widens as it roams over you, pink dusting his cheeks. 

"Wow, you look…"

Placing a hand on your hip while the other lifts your pom-pom above your head, you adopt a cheerful pose. 

"Cute?" you suggest. 

Ethan’s throat ripples as he gapes at you. 

For a while, he only does that, stare at you open-mouthed. 

His face then turns an even brighter shade than before as he dips his head down momentarily. 

"Y-Yeah. Something like that," he stammers. 

His reaction drags an amused chortle out of you. You surmise it’s the first time you’ve addressed him in your full cheerleader getup and he must be somewhat taken aback. 

"I didn’t know you liked sports," you observe.

He shrugs.

"Not particularly but everyone is going and Chad’s my roommate." He points at the camera hanging from his neck. "I also kind of got roped into taking pictures for the school paper."

Some of the other cheerleaders wave at you as they’re running out to the field. The impatient clamor of the crowd already swells from the bleachers, loud enough to be heard even from the corridor. 

One of the girls from the squad, Lisa, stops as she catches sight of you and Ethan. A quiet conversation flows between the two of you, an inquiry swaying in her hopeful blue orbs. 

You give her an imperceptible nod and she smiles at you, quickly averting her gaze and striding away when Ethan glances from her to you with a look of utter confusion on his face. 

"What the hell was that about?" he asks, thick brows drawing together.

"About that…It’s good that I ran into you because there's something I meant to tell you, hm, more like ask you."

He inches closer, his eyes on you wide and alert. 

"Ask me what?"

A sliver of hesitation zips through you but you remember the promise you made just a few hours ago at cheer practice. 

You can’t back down. 

You swallow a lungful of nerve and reveal, "So…one of the girls in my squad sort of has a massive crush on you."

"Oh," he exhales, his shoulders sagging. His smile fades, understanding seeming to dawn on him. "You mean that girl I just saw?"

You nod and explain,  "Her name’s Lisa." He considers you blankly. You wave your hands in front of yourself. Words rush out of your mouth in an apprehensive string. "I know. I know. Trying to set up your friends is so cringe but she noticed you since the beginning of the year. The thing is she’s shy and doesn't know how to approach you. I promised her to ask you if you’d be interested in hanging out sometime." You twiddle your thumbs and mumble, "She’s super pretty and so nice, and she’s even into that same board game you told me about the other day…" You trail off, forehead creasing as you try to remember the name. 

Ethan tonelessly corrects you when you misspell the name of the game. 

You perk up and giggle, "Right. She just told me. I don't know how I forgot."

Ethan studies you long enough that it becomes unnerving and you start fidgeting under his sizzling focus. 

You grow nervous, wondering what he’s thinking. Usually, you wouldn’t meddle with anyone’s love life. But Ethan’s done so much for you. If possible, you want to do something for him too.

You just don’t know what you could do to thank him. 

Setting him up with someone from your squad seemed like a good idea, especially since you’re pretty sure Ethan’s single. You haven’t seen him hang around any other girl besides you. 

A heavy sigh drops from Ethan’s chest as his lips lift into a small half-smile. 

"The thing is, I already like someone," he confesses, patting his camera.

Your eyes bulge as a wave of embarrassment washes over you. 

"You do? I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize." You blink up at him in curiosity. "Who is she? Does she know?"

He chuckles. "She doesn’t know anything."

You approach him and squeeze his arm encouragingly. 

"Well you’re awesome so if she can’t see what’s right in front of her, you’re allowed to move on."

Ethan lets out another wry laugh. 

"If only it were that simple."

Your brows knit. "What do you mean?"

He runs his hand through his thick curls and exhales a long, weary breath. 

"She’s all I can think about. Literally." He pauses, his gaze corralling yours. "Every hour of every day, I think about her."

"Wow, that’s intense." You rub his forearm and send a sympathetic smile. "Sounds like it’s more than just a crush. Sounds like you’re in love with her."

"Yeah, I guess I am. Silly me, huh?"

"Don’t say that. I’m sure things will work out in the end. You deserve to be happy, Ethan."

His attention on you sharpens before a slow smile unfurls on his lips. 

"You know what? I think I do."

"Of course you do."

Your answer makes him smile wider. 

The moment is shattered when one of the players wedges himself between you and Ethan and steals an ephemeral, chaste kiss from you. 

The buff brunette quarterback flashes you a pearly grin.

"A kiss for good luck?" he says, winking at you.

"Uh, sure," you reply shyly, butterflies swarming your belly. 

He smiles at you one last time before jogging towards the stadium. 

"Who’s this guy?"

You blink, Ethan’s deep, blunt voice startling you. 

Pivoting back to him, you explain, "Oh. Tyler and I met at the boba shop the other day. It’s too early for anything serious but he’s cute and has been super nice to me."

It’s been pleasant to bask in some sense of normalcy again after what happened last month. You craved it. Tyler’s easygoing, fun to be around and he’s never pressured you to do anything once. 

Ethan’s jaw clenches as he scoffs, "Do you just go for every guy who buys you candy or gives you some half-assed compliment?"

Your mouth hangs open in shock. "Ethan? What do you mean?" 

He scrutinizes you for a few seconds before sighing and moving to walk away. 

"Nothing. Don’t worry about it."

The hand you wrap around his wrist stops him, Ethan halting in his tracks. You tug him back with a contrite pout, your concerned gaze rising to meet his. 

"I am going to worry about it. Ethan… Did I say something upsetting? I feel like maybe I did. I'm sorry about Lisa. I thought she'd be your type. She's everyone's type."

"Well, she isn't mine," he replies icily. 

Budding tears tickle the back of your eyes but you repress them. It’s not the time to weep. The game’s about to start. 

So you swallow them with ease, deciding you’ll give Ethan a proper apology later on. 

Instead you give a sunny smile and ask, "Are you coming to hang out with everyone after the game? We all decided to meet up for chili fries and beers whatever the outcome is."

Ethan’s eyes fall on your hand wrapped around his wrist. He shifts your grip so your small hand rests in his larger one. He studies your twined hands, rubbing his thumb against the back of yours. 

When he looks at you again, a glint dances in his chestnut orbs. 

"Thanks but I’m gonna be busy actually." He flashes you a broad grin. "I just remembered I have some trash I need to take out."

~

[atarathegreat]

Angry-Chiro Shinichiro Sano

Nestled down a dark, wide alleyway between two much larger buildings was SS Motors. A squat little mechanics shop where you could buy spark plugs, gas caps, and tools on the shelves, and in the back was the garage. The garage was a little smaller than the whole building, big enough to fit a car while still having enough room for the mechanic to shift how he needed.

Shinichiro Sano took tremendous pride in his little shop, even had dreams that it would be bigger and placed in a more accessible space in the city. Fixing things was his passion, ripping out the bad parts or, in his current case, gutting a whole bike frame, was also part of the fun. Normally.

"Mother-" The sounds of ricocheting tools echoed up to the shop where you were helping customers. Steel on concrete or bouncing off the other metal work tables made you cringe as you hurled excuses again and again at Shinichiro's expense.

"Our mechanic is currently indisposed." You were all kind smiles and soft words when people were asking for him. They would sigh and nod and leave names and numbers, all while hearing the temper tantrum from the back of the shop. It wasn't new and many of the patrons were ignoring it for the most part, but you still worried about Shinichiro and the temper you knew he was capable of having.

While the rest of the shoppers were busy, not that there were many in such a secluded shop, you snuck back to the garage and peeked in. Shinichiro was fixing the bike frame back on a stand, leaving you to assume that maybe he'd gotten pissed enough to kick it over. "Shini?" The sound of your voice was enough to make him take a deep breath and look over his shoulder. He looked tired, his dark eyes not even really looking at you, "It...the bike...bolts..." Shinichiro was so mad he could hardly form a coherent sentence as he waved both arms at the frame, and that was fine, you were used to piecing together the issues. "It's alright. Steady hands, remember? Take it slow." Another soft smile and a little wave as you returned back to the front counter.

Closing early was surely going to set Shinichiro off even more, if he ever came out of the garage, but you closed early despite that. It wasn't good for business if the manager slash mechanic slash owner was seen as an angry man who couldn't keep tools from becoming an airborne item. Wrenches weren't meant to be birds and bolts definitely weren't rain drops.

"Son of a bitch!"

You sat up in bed, rubbing quickly at your eyes as more clanging woke you from a short nap. It was dark and your eyes hadn't yet cleared enough for you to see the bright red lines on the alarm clock. Moonlight almost kept you from tripping over the pile of shoes, your stumble becoming a valuable reminder that you would, eventually, have to buy a shoe rack. Cold air hit you quickly as you stepped from the mini living quarter and you reached back in to grab a coat before heading back out to trudge through the shop and to the garage. It got colder the closer you got.

"Shinichiro?"

The man turned quickly, a glare set in his features, as if a sculptor had snuck in and using clay and water to fix his beautiful smile into a scowl. "It's freezing, darling, come inside." You crossed the coat over itself to pull it tighter in hopes to keep some semblance of warmth for your skin.

"Can't. This stupid fucking thing isn't working with me and now this bolt won't even line up correctly." He slammed a wrench to the ground, glaring at the gas tank he was trying to connect to the newly cleaned bike frame. "To top it off, the rust took me nearly all day to get off and I can't even track down the right kind of seat for it!" Shinichiro huffed, leaning back against the toolbox, "How am I supposed to fix this by my deadline?"

Tools and dirty rags covered the garage floor as you stepped around and over them and bigger parts, crouching next to him, "How about I hold the tank steady and you secure it, and then we go in so you can get a drink, eat dinner, then we'll go to bed?"

Shinichiro shook his head, wiping a rag at the frame as if he was doing something, though he knew he just wanted to look busy, "I set a deadline for myself, Y/n, I want, need, this damn thing to be on the streets come spring." He always reached the goals he set for himself, so you knew it would kill him for yet another deadline with this particular bike to be pushed back.

It already wasn't a promise that he would've found the frame in Puerto Rico, and then the airlines tried to run you both around in circles over the metal until you went in and dragged it out by yourself. And then all the parts up to this point had to be ordered and the deliveries were delayed due to the winter weather, further ruining Shinichiro's plans. He stayed up night after night just to get a little bit further along in the process, all while neglecting his bodies needs for food, water and sleep. Being cooped up in the cold, horribly lit garage wasn't good for him. He looked gaunt and exhausted.

A heavy sigh fell from his lips, getting trapped somewhere between the rusty trashed parts and pile of boxes filled with new parts that had yet to be used. "I can't let it sit for a long time, I'll never get back to it." His bones spoke loudly as he stood and stretched, each pop was another cry for rest.

"You'll return to it, Shini." A weight was lifted from his shoulders when you smiled like that, like you believed in every move he made and every decision he was set on. "You never leave anything unfinished, y'know." The warmth from your hands was stolen from you as you held the tank steady for him, "And you can always call on me if you need help. I can work more than a register."

He was sure you could absolutely do more than a register, but your hands weren't supposed to be covered in grease like his, or calloused like his. You were supposed to have clean hands, manicured hands, dainty hands. Yet you didn't seem to care about any of that. Not as you leaned over the de-rusted handlebars to hold the gas tank so Shinichiro could fix the washer and bolt where they belonged and tighten them.

[itsbeeble]

and they were roommates!

Summary: Yunho doesn’t know how much longer he can hold back

Genre: Smut, a little plot, fluff

WC: 4.1k

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x fem! reader (though no specific pronouns are used)

Warnings: smut, reader is kind of a tease, unprotected sex, oral (male and fem receiving), spanking (idk man), dry humping, pet names (baby, pretty, pretty girl), marking, a bit of a size kink, big dick yunho

Notes: this is not proofread yall so pls let me know if I missed anything!

Yunho didn’t know how long he could keep this up. He didn’t know how long he could hold back from pinning you against the counter every time you brushed by him. Fleeting touches of your hand against his own, your body brushing up against his as you passed him in the hall on your way to the shared bathroom. That adorable pout on your lips every time you ask him to help you with something

He didn’t know if you were intentionally teasing him or not, but he was about to snap.

This leads him to where he is now, in his bedroom with the lights off and door locked. His pants and underwear have been kicked away, somewhere at the foot of his bed and he’s slamming his hips up and into his tight fist. He’s moving erratically, twisting his hand and squeezing the tip of his erect cock. His breath is coming out fast, his heart pounding behind his ribs. 

Yunho can’t help but imagine that it’s your sweet little pussy engulfing him rather than his hand. Can’t help but imagine the feel of you as you bounce up and down on him, chasing your release over and over because it’s never enough for you. He can practically feel you clawing at his shoulders, begging him to let you cum, to send you over the edge one more time. He screws his eyes shut, gripping the pillow next to his head with his free hand to ground himself.

There’s a knot forming in his stomach. He can feel it winding but it isn’t enough. He whines desperately, squeezing his hand tighter around his cock and thrusting harder, faster—  

“Yunho?” His eyes fly open and he practically flies off of his bed, shoving his pants and underwear on. “Yunho, you awake?” 

“Just—” His voice cracks as he wrestle to get his dick comfortable in his pants again, grimacing as the fabric scrapes against the sensitive tip of his cock. “Just a second!” He nearly trips as he rushes to unlock the door. You’re blinking up at him when the door flies open, your hands locked behind your back as you rock back and forth on your feet. There’s a smile on your face, your eyes practically glittering. Just the sight of you makes Yunho’s dick twitch and he clears his throat, smiling back at you. “What’s up, pretty?” The blush that forms on your cheeks causes his smile to grow even wider. 

He tries to ignore the fact that if he looks down just a little bit, he can see straight down your shirt. 

“I just wanted to ask if you could help me with one of my assignments?” Your head tilts and you pout a bit. “I know you’re probably busy but—”

“NO!” His voice comes out louder than he wants it to and he cringes when you flinch. “No, sorry, I’m not busy at all.” You beam at him, skipping into his room as soon as he steps to the side. Yunho watches your ass bounce in your leggings with every step you take, swallowing hard and squeezing his eyes shut to gain some semblance of willpower. Just help them with this assignment. That’s all you gotta do. He’s trying to stay calm but he can’t help the fact that he’s still rock hard under his jeans. 

Maybe if he had been paying attention to you instead of trying to will his erection away, he would have noticed you removing your bra from under your shirt and tossing it into your closet.

Maybe he didn’t notice you doing it, but when he saw your nipples poking against the thin material of your crop top, he couldn’t force his cock down anymore. His jaw is partially dropped when you sit on your bed, your legs tucked under you as you stare up at him. Now Yunho sees you rubbing your thighs together, sees the redness in your cheeks that won’t go away. 

“What— what assignments did you need help with, pretty?” He knows there’s no assignments the moment he sits on your desk chair, watching you scoot closer to him. The smile on your lips grows and you lean towards him on the edge of your bed. 

“I’m not stupid, Yunnie.” He flinches and you giggle, hopping off your bed and making your way toward him. 

“What are you— what— I don’t know—” He can feel your breath on his face. You’re eye-level with him, even when he’s sitting and you’re standing. 

“I heard you.” You lean back and dig your toe into your carpet. “A few minutes ago. Moaning my name, trying to keep yourself quiet. Saw you last night too, with my panties stuffed into your mouth.” he chokes on his own spit and sits straight up. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I know it’s so disgusting of me to do—” your giggle cuts him off. 

“Don’t be sorry. I left them out on purpose.” 

That does it for him.

Yunho yanks you toward him by your waist, dragging you onto his lap. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck and try to get your legs comfortable on either side of his hips. He’s hesitating, his lips brushing against yours and you’re so close to him. You make the first move, leaning forward and biting on his bottom lip, pulling on it as you pull your head back, your eyes meeting his own. Yunho groans, his grip on your waist tightening. 

He chases your lips, and he can feel you begin to smirk against him. It’s messy, erratic, sloppy. His tongue pushes at your bottom lip and you open your mouth immediately, allowing him to explore with free reign. Your hips are grinding down into his own, shuddering at the feeling of his clothed cock against your pussy. Loud moans escape you, but are muffled by Yunho’s tongue halfway down your throat. You push him back, whining when he comes right back to kiss you again. He’s addicted to the taste of you, unwilling to let you go. 

You take it upon yourself to force him back, your hand at the base of his throat to hold him back. His eyes flutter open, and you can see the confusion in them before you duck your head, suckling at the skin on his neck and running over the pink marks with your tongue to sooth them. 

“Y/n,” Yunho breathes out, his eyes squeezing shut while you suck hickeys into his neck. His hips are rutting upwards, meeting yours with harsh thrusts that have you moaning loudly into his neck. The smirk that plays on his lips, though you can’t see it, would tell you that your fun is almost over. His hand trails up the back of your spine and to the back of your head, his fingers tightening around the strands of your hair. You gasp at the sudden contact, crying out when he yanks you back and tilts your head so you meet his eyes. 

“My pretty little baby.” Yunho coos and you whine. “So pretty.” Your eyes are wide when he pushes you back to tug his t-shirt over his head. His toned body gleams in the light of your room, tanned skin with a thin sheen of sweat that makes his torso glow. His chest rises and falls shallowly and you trail your hands down. Your nails rake gently against his shoulders, down to his pecs and he gasps when your nails graze over his nipples. Your smile and trail your hands further south, stopping at the button of his jeans.

“Yunnie,” You look at him with the prettiest doe eyes, dripping with innocence that the large man knows is practically nonexistent. 

“What, pretty?” 

“Can you fuck my mouth?” Yunho chokes on his spit his dick twitching in his pants. “Please, Yunnie.” You haven’t even given him time to answer, your fingers already working the button and zipper. 

“Okay, baby.” He breathes. “Stand up.” You do so immediately, watching him rise from the chair with your thighs rubbing together. “Take off your clothes, pretty.” He almost cums on the spot from how fast you follow his instructions, your hands shoving your leggings and panties down and tearing your shirt over your head to let your breasts spill free. He forgets about your request for a moment, drool forming in his mouth while he stares at you. He watches you massage your boobs, pinching and twisting your nipples with soft moans and cries of his name to egg him on. His jeans hit the ground for the second time that day, and you’re on your knees in front of him before he can blink.

He’s huge, to say the least. Larger than any you’ve ever had and that thought alone has arousal pooling between your thighs and slipping down your legs. Yunho shifts where he stands, slowly jerking himself off to entice you a bit. It works rather easily, and you practically leap forward, your tongue laving at his tip. He groans loudly, fingers lacing in your hair while you lick at his cock, running your tongue up and down the length of it, swirling around the tip and digging into the slit. Your hands wrap around his balls, rubbing and squeezing lightly. You run your tongue along them, sucking on them and his hips jump, his large cock hitting your cheek. 

When you finally take him into your mouth, his eyes roll back and his body shudders. He’d been hard for so long, his orgasm held off for even longer, that he’s almost ready to cum as soon as you begin to suck on him. He can feel the drool in your mouth spilling out the sides of your lips, sliding down the side of his cock and you use that a lubricant to jerk off everything you can’t reach with your mouth. Your free hand slips between your thighs, rubbing frantically at your clit to relieve some of the pressure. Your moans vibrate down Yunho’s cock and he thrusts forward, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag. 

He's panting and moaning and now he’s thrusting rapidly into your mouth. He can see the tears pooling in his eyes, see your body shuddering the more you rub your clit and he thrusts harder. 

“C’mon pretty,” he chokes out between moans. “Take it. Take it all.” His cock is slamming into your mouth and you try so hard to keep up with him, sucking and licking as best you can with how hard he’s fucking your face. Your throat is beginning to ache, but the feeling of him in your mouth has you moaning and shuddering and fuck you’re so close. 

“Stop touching yourself,” Yunho hisses out and your eyes flutter open. You can’t see through the tears, but you whine and keep rubbing at yourself. He wants to force you to stop, but he can feel his dick twitching, feel the coil in his stomach winding tighter and tighter—

He’s cumming before he can stop himself, and from the way you’re moaning and whining around his dick he knows you did the same. He growls, jerking you closer to him and forcing his cock further down your throat while he cums. You try to push away from him, nails digging into his leg, but his hold is too strong and you have no other option but to swallow every last drop of his cum. 

He’s breathless when he finally finishes, and you’re coughing and sputtering in front of him, your cheeks soaked with your tears. He kneels down, runs a hand down your cheek, and smiles. For a moment, you think he’s going to help you. And, for a moment, he does. He pulls you too your feet, caressing you gently. Your legs feel like jello due to the force of your orgasm. 

But, the moment you get your bearings, Yunho is pushing you onto the bed with an evil glint in his eye. You scramble backwards, eyes wide as his tall figure looms over you. 

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you?” He growls. Your stomach flutters. From anticipation, from nerves. Maybe a combination of bot, but even you’re not sure as he forces your legs open and stares at your dripping cunt. 

“Personally,” your voice is trembling and you try to scoot away from him but he just pulls you back and tightens his grip on your thighs. The action has your core clenching around nothing. “I think I’m adorable.” Yunho scoffs at that, but he smiles. He doesn’t smirk. He just smiles and releases you.

“Okay.” He gets off the bed and you sit up, eyebrows furrowing together. He’s just leaving? What the fuck?

“Hey— wait, Yu where are you going?” He doesn’t say anything, but he leaves the door to your room open and disappears into his own. “This fucker—” You rise to your feet and have barely taken a step before Yunho is back in your room and shoving you back down onto the bed. “Oh—” He’s holding a black ribbon in his hands. You squirm in your spots, your thighs rubbing together as he flips you onto your stomach and ties your hands behind your back before you can even try to push yourself up onto all fours. 

“You just can’t listen, can you?” Yunho pushes you down by your shoulders when you try to get onto your knees, raising your hips up immediately after. A loud smack rings through the room and you yelp. He rubs the stinging skin and smacks you again.

“Yunho,” You whine. His hand collides with your ass again and again. More and more arousal pools between your legs, the pain causing more pleasure than you ever imagined it would.

“This is what you get,” His hand collides with your ass cheek one more time but he doesn’t pull away right after. Instead, his hand slips down between your thighs and prods at your dripping pussy. Your whole body shudders the moment he touches you, and you wiggle your hips back to try and push his finges inside of you. 

A strangled moan leaves your lips when his hand strikes your pussy. “Don’t fucking move.” You listen this time, your chest heaving and body shuddering. His hands spread your cheeks and your pussy clenches when you feel his breath against you. 

When his tongue takes its first swipe, you know you’re done for. 

He eats you out like it’s his last meal on Earth. His tongue is everywhere, licking and sucking and gently biting at you. You don’t think he’s breathing anymore with how he has has face shoved into your pussy. He’s slurping up every last drop of your wetness, his tongue prodding at your clit. His eyes flutter shut and he moans into you. Your taste is so sweet on his tongue and he knows he’ll never get enough of you. He shove his face as close as he can get, his tongue slipping inside of you, licking anywhere and everywhere that he can reach and his hand slips around your hips to pull you closer (if that was even possible) and rub at your clit. When you clench down on his tongue, he feels his cock starting to twitch again and he smirks. Almost, pretty, he thinks, we’re almost there.

He wants you to scream. He wants you scream his name out for your neighbors to hear. Wants you to writhe underneath him, crying and moaning and gasping, cumming until all you can think of is him and his tongue inside of you and the pleasure he makes you feel. So far? It’s a success.

There are no thoughts in your head. All you can think or feel is him. Tears are leaving your eyes and soaking into the pillow below your head. The moans that leave your lips are loud, and you know you’re going to get a noise complaint but you don’t care. Not when you’re so close to cumming against him. Not when he shows no signs of ever stepping away from you.

“Yunnie,” You cry out, your legs shaking and hands struggling against the ribbon that binds them. “Yunnie please, please make me cum.” Your words fade into helpless babbles and you know he knows you’re close. You know it when he pulls his tongue away from you and your orgasm slips away into nothing. “No. No no no no please Yunnie please.” You can’t even see him. Not when you’re on your stomach and can barely see with the tears that keep springing up in your eyes.

“Do you really think I’d let you cum?” He coos, his fingers prodding at your entrance once more. You whine and he laughs a bit. “So desperate, pretty girl.” When he finally slips his finger in, he can hold himself back from adding another. Fuck, the way your pussy feels around his fingers drives him insane and he can only imagine how you’ll feel around his cock. 

His finger slips in and out of you, curling to catch against that spongy spot inside of you every time he pulls back. You’re clenching so tightly around his finger, moaning so loudly for him, and when he looks down at you, he can see the puddle of drool forming under your open mouth. He slips another finger in, scissoring them to stretch you out. Your moans are rising in pitch, and he knows you’re close again so he tears his fingers out of you the moment you start to clench down on him. 

Yunho has to take a deep breath to calm himself before he unties you. You’re flipping yourself over in an instant, launching yourself at him at full force which, to your surprise, barely even budges him in his spot. You latch onto him, straddling you as your lips clash with his in a sloppy kiss. You’re yanking at his hair strands, grinding down on his cock that’s begun to rise again and twitch against your core. He groans into your kiss, pulling away from you and moving his lips down your neck to suck dark marks into your silky skin. Yunho is holding you by the waist with one hand, the other tangled in your hair for what seems like the thousandth time in order to tug your head back and get better access to you. 

“Condom,” He mumbles against your neck. “Need a condom, baby—”

“No,” you plead. He pulls away from your neck, stopping all motions for a moment to examine your face. Your eyes are wide and filled with pure unadulterated lust. “On the pill, and I’m clean. Please baby please—”

“Okay,” his cock twitches again at your desperation and he nods with a shaky inhale. “Okay, baby. I’m clean too.” You whine again and resume your movements with new fervor, lining his cock up to your pussy and dipping the tip into yourself. Yunho sucks in a sharp breath as you lower yourself and raise yourself moments later, teasing his tip with your warmth. 

When you finally begin to sink down on his cock, he has to use every fiber in his being to not cum right there. His teeth sink into your neck again, and he sucks harshly while you moan and cry at the feel of him stretching you out. 

“Oh baby,” His voice is shaky but he does his best to coo at your reaction. You’ve barely taken a quarter of him into you but you’re shaking against him and he can feel the fluttering of your pussy against him. “Am I too big for you? Do you need to stop?” You whine and arch into him.

“N-No!” You plead. “Don’t wan- don’t wanna stop Yunnie please don’t wanna stop!” He rubs your hips a bit as you continue to slowly inch your way down his cock and presses gentle kisses to your neck and collarbones and the tops of your breasts. 

“I don’t know pretty girl,” He traces his thumb across your hip bone and frowns mocking at you. “I think I’m too big—” At that moment, you press down harder, sinking in as much of him as you could. His eyes roll into the back of his skull and he can’t stop his hips from jumping, thrusting into you and making you bounce in his lap. A loud moan slips past your lips at the motion. “Fuck you feel so good around me, pretty girl.”

It’s not long before you’re bouncing on his lap, your hands glued to his shoulders as leverage as you grind against him and roll your hips. You’re moving so quickly, squeezing him so tightly and moaning so loudly that he swears that the only thing he can sense is you. He knows he won’t be able to stop you from chasing your release. Knows that you’re gonna take him for everything he has. So he lets you.

He murmurs praises into your skin, smiling when your walls flutter around him at each statement. Every good girl, and so so good for me, feel so good has you fucking yourself down onto him harder and faster, ignoring the burning in your legs. Ignoring how out of breath you are and how your thighs are cramping around him. 

He doesn’t, though. He picks up on it immediately and grips onto you tightly as he begins to meet you every time you drop yourself back onto his aching cock. You keen into him, your back arched back so your tits are pressed against his face and he takes advantage of that, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth for a brief moment. You begin to seize up on him, your moans becoming louder and higher as your hips stutter. Yunho takes over for you, leaning his body back so he’s flat on your bed. He raises his knees up to support you and ruts his hips up. He’s going harder and faster than you had and he can feel your orgasm wracking through your body.

“F-Fuck Yunho,” your body falls forward, your walls pulsing through him while your arousal drips down his cock and serves as lubricant for him to keep going. “Fuck. Harder, baby. Harder.” 

“You’re insatiable, pretty girl.” He thrusts into you even harder, and he can hear the wet slapping of his hips against yours echoing in the room alongside his grunts and your moans. The moans that are muffled into his neck because you don’t have the strength or willpower to lift yourself up or move. He can feel you clenching down on him again, tighter and tighter, working you both towards another orgasm. “Fuck, where you want me pretty girl?” 

“Inside,” you breathe out. “Please, inside, please baby please.” 

That sentence. That single sentence is what throws him over the edge, his vision going a blinding white as you clench down and cum with him with a final cry of his name. His hips stutter and stop as he releases everything he has into you.

“Pretty girl?” Yunho strokes the back of your head, his chest still rising and falling somewhat rapidly. You’re still on top of him, your body shuddering every now and then as his dick softens in you and the mixture of both of your cum seeps out of you. “Y/n, c’mon baby. Gotta get you cleaned up.” You whine and cling to him as he starts to lift you up and off of him.

“Don’ wanna,” You mumble. “Wanna stay here for a bit.” 

“No, baby.” Yunho lifts your chin with his finger and smiles down at you. “We can’t leave you here all sticky and gross.” You groan and lower your face into his chest. 

“Fine…”

You let him carry you to the bathroom and sit you on the counter while he heats up the water for the shower. He works surprisingly fast, gathering towels and clothes for you both, removing the blankets from your bed to be washed in the morning before returning to your side and bringing you into the shower. 

“You know,” you’re facing away from him while he washes your body, his hands brushing over the bruises he left on your skin. “You’re a very gullible man.” Yunho scoffs.

“I’m not gullible!”

“Really?” You turn to face him with a tired smile on your face. “You actually thought I had an assignment for you to help me with?” 

“Well— I mean—”

“Yunho, we’re completely different majors baby.”

“That doesn’t mean I couldn’t help you!” He pouts down at you and you laugh at him. His behavior is so different from before. 

This is the Yunho you’re used to. 

This is the Yunho you fell for, though the other side of him is just as good.

[t-art-c]

Love that Beat Vanity

Scaramouche/GN! Reader - Forced Established Marriage

TW: Domestic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Verbal Abuse

A/N: HELLO! Thank you for reading my goofy little oneshots once again. I've decided to have every Scaramouche fics I write on this acc to have some kind of continuation. So, if you have read my previous works, the reader's lore will be the same throughout this series. But you don't have to read the previous works to catch up with the story since I wrote it as oneshots, scenarios and whatnot.

If you choose not to read the previous works, Reader was an orphan who survived stealing from people but stole from the wrong person one time and was taken and placed in a human trafficking ring, Scaramouche bought her to work at for the Fatui and the rest is history.

-----

It has been 5 years since Scaramouche has taken you as his spouse. You have still not adapted well into this new "domestic" life that was forced onto you by your husband. The lessons you have to keep taking because you can't make yourself to remember it all, has started to take a toll on your body.

Sleep has been difficult to achieved, it might be near impossible as your husband demands for the two of you to sleep together in the same bed, as husband and spouse. But try as you might to close your eyes, the moment you feel his arms snake around your waist, you freeze up like a statue and not sleep until you pass out from exhaustion. However, when you wake up from fainting, you'll feel the blanket placed properly on top of you, the bed side where your husband would always lay on, cold.

You have no doubt that Scaramouche loves you, too much in fact.

Early in the morning, he would leave you in bed and attend to his harbinger duties. Not a single item of his was ever misplaced whenever he fixes himself up. His sakura blossom perfume would always be placed in it proper spot and his brush to add the rouge over his eyelids were clean from any color, as if it was never even used.

Tidiness can't be said the same to your vanity table. Although you rarely use the furniture as it was intended, you do use it as something to leave the fabrics that you have meticulously stitched from the lessons that Scaramouche forced on you. They were ugly, so you have no idea why your husband lets you leave them in the open.

Your 'lovely' Scaramouche once commented on how your needlework was "god awful that even a child can do better". You might not have expressed it physically, but it hurt to hear him say that. Blood was spilled when you were creating your first fabric But you learned the truth later on that the first finished fabric you have created was hidden in the drawer of his office.

It makes your heart confused on why he has to resort to harsh tactics to get a semblance of your "love". Why can't your husband act like a normal person?

Mornings has been something you have been waiting for every single day for the past 5 years. For the whole morning, you have the manor all to yourself. A place for you to be alone with your thoughts. But when the hour hand reaches 12 PM, your teacher for that day will be coming to teach you another useless skill that you will never remember.

[dungeonpuppykai]

hii i do know if youre taking requests or anything but i was wondering if you could write a dark!bucky x reader fic where the kidnapping is already established and all and she finds herself giving in to bucky and it sorta shocks bucky as well, mostly soft dark bucky and comfort/fluff but dark? does this make sense

I don't really do requests only because I've danced that dance many times and failed at it every single time. Though I do like to do an interesting scenario here and there since I am a pleaser hehe 🩷

Also, I am so, so, so sorry that this is so late. I enjoy this as a hobby and my university slams me hard so I only write when I have the time and energy. I really hope you see this 🩷

And hope you like it still &lt;3

Warning(s): Dark!Bucky, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, fluff, comfort. 

Bucky was past Hydra but the life was all the same. 

He worked for a private company that paid top dollar for his expertise now.

You had been in his sight for a long time before he made a move on you.

You had caught his eye almost right after he had broken free.

Since you used to volunteer at the town library and he would come to find some semblance of his time there among the old books, getting lost for hours on end in the corner dedicated to his time.

That with the smell of your perfume whenever you would walk by was an almost euphoric experience for him.

Every day, every time.

And then Bucky knew, he had to have you.

It had been a very cliche bumping into each other.

Or at least on his part. 

Maybe you had done it on purpose to try and make conversation with the handsome man who came by everyday. 

Bucky had gone into a trance for a few moments when he had made eye contact with you for the first time. 

The world had shut down.

And you were the only sound, the only light, the only life.

He had stopped coming after that day. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man had decided he could not afford to mess this up.

You were too sweet, too kind, too nice, too pretty, too perfect and completely out of his league. 

He devised a perfect plan.

And plucked you from society like a rose from a garden.

His rose.

Could you blame him?

You seemed to like him plenty so what other reaction could you possibly have than that of delight and gratitude after waking up in the humble house his mysterious company had built for him into the heart of a forest of his choice? 

Anyways.

It had been a long time since all that bitter business. 

You were past the tears, begging, running, denying and fighting.

The man had a literal metal arm, what were you compared to pure muscle and raw strength?

You bit your lip as you forced yourself to push the silly thoughts of escape away, dabbing the disinfectant one last time on Bucky's injured shoulder that you had patched up.

Was it right? Did you do something wrong?

You had no idea.

But every time you tried to suggest he see a doctor for his wounds every other time he was back from a job, all he ever responded to the proposition with was a sharp 'no doctors'. 

"Y- You…" Sighing to yourself in defeat, you moved to the smaller scratches and cuts now.

The man only looked up at you from his position on the kitchen chair as you stood between his legs. 

"You… should be careful out there, you know…" A grunt left you when you caught sight of a soft smile on his lips. 

"I mean, I don't know what the fuck this place is and how to navigate it so I don't wanna die of starvation just because you weren't careful" though your words amused him, he grabbed your chin nevertheless, clicking his tongue. 

"Language…" You rolled your eyes though only after you looked down because the habit had landed you in trouble with him one too many times. 

Because good girls don't use vulgar language. 

He was so old fashioned it was weird.

"Sorry… sir" you forced out through your teeth, very well aware of what would become of you if you didn't follow the rules and apologize straight away. 

"Good girl" the condescending pat on the top of your head was heavy due to his strength as you went about the rest of his injuries.

The both of you lost track of time.

Bucky noticed it before you did. 

The usual stiffness of your shoulders, the tension in your jaw, the tension in your hands was barely noticeable.

Genuine concern had overshadowed the usual disdain when he had stumbled in today. 

Well, he had been gone for days before that. 

You were also extra careful with making sure every little graze was addressed today unlike before where he had to practically threaten or manipulate you into doing it. 

After you had put everything away and washed your hands, you walked slowly to him before stopping in front of him.

"You're not allowed to go MIA again" you spoke with your chin held high, as though you had any say in this house. 

The slight raise of Bucky's eyebrow almost made you falter but the small smile that soon tugged at his lips eased you back down.

Maybe this was the way.

Letting out a defiant exhale through your nose you crossed your arms over your chest, "I've heard hamburgers are best served hot…"

He had told you that.

You did not have to look over your shoulder to know that his smile deepened.

Maybe you had cooked them and waited for him by the door everyday these past few days.

But he didn't have to know that.

Bucky groaned to himself as he pushed his body up and slowly followed you.

Maybe this was the start of something good. 

Or…

It didn't matter though. Bucky sighed as he circled his arms around your waist from behind while you served the food.

Perching his chin on your shoulder, he let his eyes flutter close as he inhaled your scent.

You smelled like home.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Whatever you will choose to do with this, Bucky decided, won't change anything. 

Because the fact of the matter was, you were his and you didn't have a choice.

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

We'll Meet Again - Charles Leclerc

<word count - 1933>

warnings: dead body (kinda)

The day the world ended.

It wasn't a day you, or anyone else, thought you'd have to live through, but here you were. Here you were, sitting amidst it all, unsure of what to do with yourself, or how to move on from the position you were in.  

There wasn't much left, as you looked around. There was the crackle of broken electronics and the faint buzzing of the neon signs that were still lit in shop windows. How long they'd stay illuminated? Only time would tell. 

Well, when I say not much left, I mean of human society. The minute the sky had turned cloudy, almost dusty in colour, and the ground had started to shake, you thought that you'd be lost to the disaster like everyone else around you was. 

Yet here you were. 

The world looked like something straight out of a futuristic movie or video game, but it was as real as it could be for you right now. You had wished you could move your head from the screen, and you had naively tried it, but it was all the same. 

The worst part was, surprisingly, the stillness. There was no breeze, intensifying the clingy summer humidity. Nothing moved, nothing stirred, nothing shifted apart from the rise and fall of your chest and the occasional blink of your eyelids. 

The ground was set still, just like it was before the earth practically caved in. There were a lot of things still the same, but they all looked vastly different as you sat on that park bench. 

The sky was a dusky yellowish-cream colour, but you couldn't tell whether it was actually the sky, or dust kicked up from the disaster, or oddly coloured clouds that you had just never noticed before. Nevertheless, it made the whole scene seem more sombre somehow. 

Rubble collected in piles all around, some bits crunching under your feet as you moved them every so often, just to check that you were actually alive and you could still move. A few of the taller buildings were cracked in half, since they were demolished nearly as easily as a twig underfoot. 

The top halves had come crashing down to the floor, their bricks and blocks shattered and smashed. There were a few still standing, poking up from the ground like they were breaking through the horizon.  

Their once prominent lines and features now blurred by the nearly smog-like haze that had taken the place of the clear, sunny day that you were once living in. The clear sunny day that had turned into the day of calamity.  

How long it had been since that very cataclysm? You didn't quite know. It could've been minutes, it could have been hours since you had been sat there, on that same park bench that you had hid under as a final attempt at survival. 

All you knew was that there was no way out of it. In some ways, you wished you had gone with everyone else, so you'd be able to escape the feeling of pure lostness that you were experiencing. 

You didn't know if there was anyone else out there, or if there was anyone else that you could even find. Was it just where you were? Or was it the whole globe? You'd probably never know. 

You cast your mind back to the day that you were having, trying to forget about the monstrous aftermath. You and Charles were going on a walk, a light stroll in the sun. Maybe you'd stop off for some lunch while you were out, maybe you wouldn't.

It was one of those kinds of days. A day with no set purpose, but you'd make one along the way and be fulfilled with it. But that day did have a set purpose, and you were living that purpose as you sat there, on that park bench. 

You'd lost Charles as you were both running hand in hand to try and find some semblance of safety, which didn't befall him as it did you. You remembered the exact moment you felt his hand slip from yours, your head darting around the crowds to find him. 

But, you lost his in a thousand other faces of strangers. You lost the eyes of the man you loved between the countless others you were seeing terror in. 

Your vision became hazy, but not from the mist that you were surrounded by. A few salty tears dripped down your face as you thought about him. About the man you adored and everyone else who you held near and dear. 

Everyone who you'd lost. 

In the distance, you heard a voice. Well, you thought you did. You looked to your right, and you could have sworn you'd seen a figure in the shadows of a building. What more did you have to lose? 

That was what you thought as you stood from your space on that park bench and soldiered over to the building. There was no need to use the door as you stepped over the small level of wall that was the base to the gaping hole in the side of said building. 

There it was again, the shadow. To your right. The door to the room you were approaching was hanging off its hinges, and you could hear a faint noise coming from the other side. You also thought you heard footsteps. 

Peering around the split doorframe, you saw the shadow of the figure cast onto the crumbling wall. But, the most prominent thing was the old record player, on the floor after sliding off a table that had lost two of its legs. 

It was still quietly playing, on loop somehow. You couldn't make out the tune, but it skipped out every now and then. You couldn't quite make out the tune at first, until it clocked in your head and more tears barraged your eyes. 

'We'll Meet Again', Vera Lynn. How ironic. The only other human voice you were probably going to ever hear again, and it was telling you how you'd meet again, but she didn't know where, and she didn't know when. 

Your attention quickly focused back onto the silhouette on the wall. It stayed still, like a statue. Stuck to its place and firmly rooted in like stone. Just as you were going to walk around the door to see what it was, you heard something, and your blood ran cold. 

"Darling?" 

That was... his voice. Charles' voice. He was here? He was stood behind the door? But why wasn't he moving? Why wasn't he coming to scoop you up in his arms and tell you that he was here now, and everything was going to be alright?

"Charles?" you quietly said, voice so faint it was like a whisper that could have easily been carried away by any kind of breeze. Your ears were greeted with the same silence you had been coping with all day, bar the still playing record on the floor. 

You frantically looked around, hoping to see him somewhere, standing and waiting for you to notice him. But, the scene around you was frustratingly the same as it had been for the past God knows how long, and how it would be for the rest of time, presumably. 

"Charles?" you said again, this time slightly louder as your voice cracked. Radio silence. Bar the still playing record on the floor. "Charles? Please? Say something, Charles. God, please, anything!" you cried, your voice slightly echoing around you. 

You kept repeating similar demands over and over, like saying his name was going to bring him back. Like his name was a prayer, as if someone out there would hear it and give him back to you. 

Rounding the door frame, it was like the shadow disappeared, and it twisted into a black smudge on the wall. Just ash and dirt and dust from the days events. No Charles, no other person, no hope. 

"Charles, this isn't funny," you sobbed, sinking to your knees onto the floor, clutching at your heart as it hurt. You wished that this was all some big, practical joke and everything was fine and this was just a prank. 

But that wasn't reality. Your mind was showing you what you wanted to see, producing what you wanted to hear. And he never responded to your calls. And he never would. All there was was silence. Bar the still playing record on the floor.

You didn't want to hear the damn record anymore, you already had the lyrics burned onto your brain with a branding iron, but it was the only time you'd ever get to hear someone else's voice apart from your own. 

"Charles, please... I don't want to be alone..." you choked out between sporadic sobs. Out of the corner of your eye, through the tears, you saw something else. A pinkish, fleshy something else. 

Wiping your eyes, you saw a dusty hand jutting out of the rubble. You had already seen enough dead bodies to last a few lifetimes, so it didn't strike you as any different. But, something inside you told you to go closer. 

Now that was when the world really ended. It didn't take long for you to notice the watch on the wrist connecting to the hand. The face was smashed and cracked, the hands no longer ticking in perfect harmony. 

It was reflective of the earth, in some ways. Unbalanced and broken. 

The watch hands were frozen, supposedly at the time he'd left you. You knew those hands so well, you'd be able to tell them apart from any others at any given time. And now was no different.

Those were the same hands that played the piano in your apartment to perfection, the same hands that held his trophies and hoisted them in the air, the same hands that ran through your hair when you were in search of some comfort. 

But now they were dusty, a few small cuts littered about the surface. Tainting the perfection. Skewing the precision. Ruining the purity. 

This time, you only had the one, but that was more than enough for you. In some ways, it felt wrong to touch it, but your hand was already brushing against it before you had the chance to think it over. 

Cold was what it was. Cold and lifeless. Nothing running through his veins, no blood under the surface that stirred. Completely lifeless. 

The rest of him was there somewhere, hidden under the debris. You wanted to see him, but you knew it would scar you for life. More than this ordeal could ever. He'd be mangled, bruised, damaged to a point of no return. 

Entwining your fingers with his, clasping both of your hands around the one you had, you felt at home for a moment. They still fit together perfectly at the minute, and you weren't going to take it for granted like you had so many times. 

Without realising, you'd began to hum along to the tune that was still playing on the old record player on the floor. That was the only sound you could hear as you leant your back against the pile of rubble, still tightly holding onto Charles' hand. 

It wasn't just a song anymore, it felt like a promise. You'd meet him again, even if you didn't know where or when. But you would, some sunny day. 

And that was how you stayed. Humming along to the last song you'd ever hear, holding the hand of the love of your life on the day the world ended. 

A/N - This is the second of this kinda series, and I've already broken the rule of less than a thousand words. I kinda got carried away, so bear with me. This is based off of this version of 'We'll Meet Again', which is a song I loved anyway and this version makes it a little more melancholy.

Also... CAN I GET A BOOP OR TWO PLEASE?!

Anyway, thank you for reading, drop any requests in my inbox, love you loads, sorry for being so inactive recently, I have been a very busy gal and I hate it 😭💖

|masterlist|this made me feel something|

[shy-urban-hobbit]

"wait...is this a date?" with Husk & Angel please :3c

Slight C/W for typical Val behaviour

Angel kicked his feet idly where they hung off the arm of the lobby sofa as he scrolled through his socials. He'd only just been able to start moving around without a limp that morning after Val had damn near broken his leg and while he was happy for the break (hah!) from work, he was now starting to go slightly stir crazy after being housebound for two days after Val had decided he was useless while one of his legs was twice the size of the other.

He scowled to himself as he shifted around slightly. He was pretty sure that was a spring digging into the small of his back but he couldn't muster the energy to rectify it - as Hell's most famous pornstar, he'd been in way more uncomfortable positions - he could live with something that wasn't a dick poking him in the back until someone or something gave him a worthwhile reason to move.

"Hey, Legs."

Angel yelped and cursed in quick succession as the sudden appearance of the hotel's resident cat demon made him promptly drop his phone onto his face.

"Asshole." He grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "First ya ditch me, and then ya make me injure myself. I should make ya kiss it better."

"It's not ditchin' ya if it was work." Husk answered as he placed the new bottles on the bar top, "As for the other thing, can I substitute one of those cups of sugar masquerading as a drink?"

Angel sat up to peek over the back of the sofa. Sure enough Husk was stood holding out a hot pink frappe from his favourite coffee place, an eyebrow raised as he shook the cup slightly, enticingly, "Well?"

"I've told ya you're my favourite, right?" Angel asked, making grabby hands until Husk handed it over, the smell of artificial raspberry filling his nose. "What's in the other bag?"

"Nothin' much. You wanna hang out in my room for a while?"

Angel blinked, finger still in his mouth as he paused in licking off melted whipped cream from where it had run down the side of the cup, "Ain't we got another redemption exercise or hugging circle or some shit in like, 5 minutes?" Not that Angel was complaining; Charlie had used his unexpected freetime to really double down on his possible redemption. Whatever had been said in that meeting with Heaven making her more determined then ever and if he had to look at one more crayon drawing or diagram he was going to start tearing his hair out - he may or may not have played up the whole wanting to rest up and heal thing once or twice, just to get her to leave him alone for 5 minutes (and God bless Vaggie for having his back on that one, even if the look she threw him told him she knew he was exaggerating and even though the princess was always quick to comply with minimal fuss and puppy eyes ever since the whole 'boundary crossing' thing).

Husk shrugged, holding out a hand, "Talked to Charlie earlier, we've both got a pass on this one."

"Fine." Angel took the hand without even thinking about it, gingerly testing his leg after laying down for so long - it still ached, but he didn't end up face planting or anything, "But if we end up having to do some weird extra credit thing later on, I'm blamin' you."

"Noted." Husk chuckled as he grabbed the mystery bag and headed upstairs, Angel's hand still in his.

Angel had only been in Husk's room a handful of times but he'd made a game of trying to see if anything was new or even remotely out of place whenever he entered. The small space was so uniformly neat and organised it was almost like a display rather than an actual living space. Part of Angel wondered if it was a control thing - he used to seek some semblance of control over what entered his body and when and what he'd remember through drink and drugs, why couldn't this be Husk's way? It seemed kind of funny now that the old him probably would've purposely moved things around or hidden something, just to fuck with the other.

"Sooo.... anything specific in that fuzzy head or ya just wanna bask in my presence?"

"So fucking humble." Husk opened up a laptop Angel hadn't noticed sat on the bed before now, "And I was thinkin' a movie. You in?"

"Sure. Surprised Al lets ya have one a those. Y'know, with the whole hatin' any tech after the 40's schtick." Angel said as he settled at the head of the bed, using one set of arms to attempt to plump up Husk's measly excuse for pillows.

"Borrowed it." Husk answered, not giving any details about who from (although Angel had a pretty solid idea if the rainbow and heart stickers were anything to go by).

"Oh my fuckin' God. How dense is this broad?" Angel laughed, throwing his head back against Husk's shoulder after having decided the cat was comfier to lean on than his flat pillows, Husk's arm resting on the low headboard behind them, "The guy's been pining since like, day one!"

"I think the dialogue's maybe one step up from the shit they have you spewin' and that's a low fuckin' bar!"

"Hey, it's all in the delivery, an' I got toys that ain't as stiff as these two." Angel crunched on a strawberry lollipop as the two protagonists acted out yet another 'cute' encounter like they had a gun pointed at their heads, "Y'know I'm surprised ya agreed ta this one. I didn't think it'd be your kinda thing."

"It ain't, but the fact it's so bad it's funny is makin' it bearable."

Angel hummed in agreement, snuggling further into Husk's chest fur as the female protagonists stereotypical gay BFF was laying the truth out for her in that the casual 'not a date' had totally been a date.

"Girl, he invited you over, made sure you weren't going to be interrupted, got you your favourite foods -"

Angel snuck a glance at the various wrappers covering the bed after he'd finally been given permission to dump out the contents of the bag.

"Jeez Husk, you raid a candy store an' just grab anythin' pink?"

"...no."

"Oh my god, you just grabbed anythin' pink!"

"I didn't know what you'd like. Seemed a safe bet."

"Well, well, ain't we the cocky one? Ya that sure I was gonna say yes? And ya bet payed off, just so ya know."

"-sat through something he knew would make him want to gouge his eyes out 'cos he knew you'd like it. How many more clues do you need?!"

Angel blinked, this insult to romcoms suddenly feeling a little too on the nose. Husk clearly felt the same if the way he was suddenly showing great interest in the acid rain falling outside was any indication.

"Wait...Husk, is this a date?"

Husk's tail twitched as he bought his attention to the other demon, cheeks slightly pink under his fur and ears dipped slightly, "It can be, if ya want. Or it can just be two friends hangin' out, rippin' a terrible movie to shreds. Your call."

Angel moved slowly, partly because of his leg and partly because he didn't want to spook the other as he sat himself in Husk's lap, mindful not to let his expression slip into the lewd mask he usually had to wear when he was practically straddling someone on a bed as he cupped Husk's jaw so the cat couldn't look anywhere but at him, "Yeah. I want."

[crispycreambacon]

You fill your head with thoughts you find you can't even feel

Try to make room in your skull, but it’s full of them

All of the things that you think and then think about thinking

I know it’s hard, but they're not who you are

They're white noise

— White Noise, Will Wood —

Welcome one and all to "Mashing Two Interests Like Playdough", the first episode is Puppet History x Will Wood, specifically the Substitute x White Noise 'cause holy moly. It fits him so well. Omg.

I had so much fun creating this poster! I'm really proud of how the poses and the rendering turned out even though both gave me a rough time at first </3 I actually had an earlier version of this poster, but I scrapped it because it wasn't doing it for me ngl :,D I'm glad I did though!

Anyways if you'd like to know more about why I think this song fits the Substitute, you can read my interpretation of the lyrics and how they can relate to him below the "Read More" button. You can also find the glitchless + filterless version of the poster there.

Note: A lot of this is speculation on my part, and you don't need to conform to this reading. This is just how I perceive him.

They paint the walls with colors that you're not meant to notice

They fill the halls with tunes you can't get into your head

Let's establish the obvious: The Substitute can't feel. The extent of his unfeelingness is unknown, but what is known is that he can't taste and can't have the sensation of touch. This may lead to him being isolated due to his inability to relate to experiences both humans and his fellow puppets seem to have, particularly the experiences of the one he is based on.

Yeah, it sorta sounds like a retro top-40 but wrong

You're not meant to sing along

It isn't that kind of song

It's white noise

Despite his unfeelingness, he still wants to have the experiences others have. After all, he literally almost killed someone just to have that chance, but his plan is not entirely well-thoughout. How was he going to dispose Ryan's body without getting caught? How was he going to sew the skin onto himself and dispose the rest of it? What was he going to do after he finally what he asked for?

In a way, he was doomed to fail. He was never meant to gain sentience anyway, let alone have the desire to feel like his counterpart. His existence is a complete accident. Now he has to deal with the consequences of actions he never even had a hand in doing.

But if you listen closely I swear, to God I swear

You can hear the ocean if you hold it up to your ear

This lyric directly inspired the pose of the Substitute listening to the conch shell. He has memories of some of the most wonderful sensations on Earth yet he can't connect with any of them. Perhaps when no one was looking, he tries to recreate some of them in a desperate attempt to find a scrap of semblance of feeling and gets increasingly frustrated with his inability to understand them.

Is it any wonder that he would do anything to regain that scrap of enjoyment? To end his torturous experience by any means necessary?

Its personality's a lack of identity

The entire second verse in general speaks about the meaningless of art and how people try to give it meaning anyway. The Substitute's only purpose was to replace the Professor either to console a dead mass or to continue the show. Now that the Professor is back... What can he do?

Moreover, he's also never allowed to have an identity of his own. Since he's meant to be a perfect copy of someone else, especially someone who's presumed to be dead, he can never really deviate from that role because it would break the illusion the puppets created to cope with their grief. No matter what his desires are, he can never really explore any of them because no one is allowing him to do so.

Also, the way the orchestra swells during this part kinda calls back to theatrical music for me. I feel like the Substitute would enjoy performace arts. His bombastic musical number implies he had a flair for the dramatics, and despite his lack of feeling, his expression of his ambitions is quite dramatic.

You fill your head with thoughts you find you can't even feel

This can relate to how the Subtitute is forced to relive the memories of the Professor despite not being able to experience the emotions connected with them. In a way, he has to so that he could remind himself of his motivations. Remembering the joy the Professor got through feeling would keep him going on this path in the hopes that some day, he could feel that joy too.

I know it's hard

But they're not who you are

They're white noise

This line can be taken in two ways. One is based on the speculated official meaning of the outro which is centered on intrusive thoughts. No doubt the Substitute deals with homicidal thoughts, but I wonder if he truly believes in them. Does he genuinely enjoy indulge in them, or does he act on them because it's all that he knows? For all the talk about him having the Professor's memories, at the end of the day, he was crudely coded for one simple purpose. His thoughts are very simplistic—as seen with how quickly he jumps to murder as the most logical solution for his problem—and I wonder if he was given a chance to grow beyond his purpose, he could've reliazed that homocide was not the right course of action.

The other way, which is likely more relevant, relates back to the Substitute being intrinsically tied to the Professor. His thoughts, his memories and his actions are all in a way influenced by the Professor. But it didn't have to be this way. As unlikely as it is, he could've had a life where he discovered his own interests and his own personality outside of being "the evil Professor". If he had gotten to learn more about the world on his own, if he had been able to act not as the Professor but as himself, he would've been able to develop more and find that joy he was missing. He could've had a life.

Unfortunately, he was never given that chance, and it is unlikely that he ever will be.

[shanbinswf]

ARE YOU MINE — lee heeseung [repost]

landing page. main masterlist.

pairing: academic rival heeseung x afab reader

genre: mild angst, mild fluff, smut (mdni)

plot: heeseung loved to taunt you every day, reminding you he was better than you. little did you know, that was just his pathetic way of trying to win you over.

wc: 2542

warnings under the cut.

warnings: heeseung was an idiot and did childish things to 'flirt', heeseung kind of cornered reader into dating him but it was also consensual, swearing, start of a smut scene but i cut it off oops.

LEE HEESEUNG WALKED THE HALLS OF THE CAMPUS LIKE HE OWNED THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD, AND YOU HATED IT WITH A BURNING PASSION.

You hated him with a burning passion.

His face was dumb, his smiles were dumb, his soft yet cheerful greetings were dumb, his lingering hands on your arm when he called for your attention was dumb.

You just wanted to punch him in the face sometimes.

Sure, he was hot—insanely so. He was smart, athletic, good at everything he did. But he wasn’t the king of the world or anything—though he sure liked to act like he was.

His follower count on social media baffled you, you refused to become one of the numbers that stalked his every post and commented thirst all over his photos. You refused to join the crowd.

That didn’t mean you didn’t secretly ogle his photos.

And sometimes, he even shared a lowkey photo of you claiming he was in mad love. You thought he was just using you to get the women in his DMs to back off, but little did you know…

Ever since you were a kid, you were always second place next to Heeseung. He followed you everywhere, just to taunt you and rub that simple fact into your face. Anyone would think he was following you because he was beyond whipped over you, but the whispers he shared into your ears were often taunts of you not being good enough to beat him, not good enough to ever be on top of him, not secret sweet confessions like everyone thought.

You weren’t the only enemy Lee Heeseung had.

Everyone knew there was another student that was second in town, Sungchan. He always pushed you down to third place, but you were okay with the fact it was him. Sungchan didn’t make you feel angry butterflies. His smile calmed you, and he often made you laugh instead of feel fury.

Despite going to sister schools and not sharing any classes growing up, you had become friends with Sungchan through some after school classes you both attended. Dare you say it, he was your best friend.

When all three of you began university, you were beyond happy to be in all the same classes as Sungchan. It just sucked that Heeseung was also in your classes. At least he left you alone.

Sungchan had become more like a brother figure, a best friend, compare to the crush you expected it to turn out to be. When you were a kid, you expected to fall madly in love with Sungchan and you would get your happy ever after with him. But that was far from the case.

You both enjoyed being with one another, but there was no semblance of romance in sight. That, and the fact Sungchan had been in love and dating the same girl from the age of 13.

Sungchan walked you out of class and pulled you aside, chewing at his bottom lip with anxiety. “I think I’m really going to do it, I’m going to propose to her.”

“While I think you’re still way too young to be getting married,” You began, having been through this conversation many times in recent months. You turned around, landing your back against the wall as you watched Sungchan’s reactions. “You’ve been together for so long and it’s clear you’re each other’s soulmates. I wish you all my luck.”

Sungchan’s anxious frown turned into a wide smile, his eyes even glossing over. He jumped in his spot and took a breath to try and clear the fog in his brain. “You’re my number one hype man, and I couldn’t ask for a better friend,” Sungchan complimented you.

You grabbed his cheeks with your hand and pulled his head down a little too aggressive. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, then tapped his cheek with your fingers. “Go get yourself that wife,” You joked with a wide smile.

Sungchan turned and almost ran down the hallway, tripping on the way. You couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest. He was so happy, and that made you happy. You silently made a reminder to text him later that night for all the details before you pushed yourself off the wall and turned, only to come face-to-chest with an unknown person.

“Oh, sorry-“ You began, but your happiness dimmed as you looked up at Heeseung. You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. “How long have you been standing here for?”

“Long enough to see you making fuck me eyes at Sungchan,” He muttered, sounding a little jealous almost. You rolled your eyes, but pushed the angry butterflies in your stomach aside. You felt butterflies for this man only, and it made you hate him more.

“I was not making fuck me eyes at him, thank you very much. Not that it’s any of your business,” You snapped. As you looked up at him, your chin almost rested on his chest. You craved to hold him closer, but you knew you had no right to touch him.

“Of course it’s my business, you’re my fucking girlfriend,” Heeseung snapped, causing your eyes to go wide and your mouth to fall open.

“Um, since when?” You asked. Heeseung looked enraged by your response, his hand grabbing your cheeks just as you had done to Sungchan.

“What do you mean ‘since when’? Since we were kids, maybe. You were always at my house and we spent all of our time together, and you’re only now telling me you were never my girlfriend?”

You couldn’t held but laugh, only causing Heeseung’s eyes to turn into a cold stare as his hand gripped your cheeks tighter, pushing your lips out at the action. “That doesn’t mean we were dating, you know.”

‘Oh yeah? Then why did you sleep over almost every weekend and hug me in your sleep? Why did we go on almost weekly dates?” Heeseung defended the relationship you didn’t even know you was in.

“Dates? Wait, you think us going to the library to study was us going on dates? Come on man, do better. If you’re in love with me then just admit it,” You joked, your hands coming to hold his wrist but you made no effort to push his hand away.

“I’m madly in fucking love with you,” He stated, his voice a little too calm in contrast to the butterflies rumbling in your stomach, trying to get out.

“Excuse me?” You asked, your tone sounded a little too snappy and angry, the opposite of what you intended.

“Enough of your attitude,” Heeseung whispered before he pulled your face to his, his lips pressing against yours gently. Your eyes widened at first, but then your hands let go of his wrist to wrap around his neck to kiss him back.

Heeseung smiled against your lips at the action and turned his head to check his watch before he mumbled, “I’m meant to be in gym right now.”

“Well how about your kind of girlfriend follows you and watches your basketball training for once, yeah?” You asked, Heeseung nodding his head a little too enthusiastically. You didn’t know why you just decided to hop right into the role of his girlfriend from seemingly hating him, but a part of you burned for him. His existence in your life was daily, and you couldn’t bare the idea of parting.

Heeseung let go of your cheeks and laced his hand down, his fingers tangling between yours before he said nothing further and walked with you to the downstairs gym. He had his own little plan, knowing no one would be there for some hours. He thought he was ingenious.

Heeseung had always seen you as his girlfriend. He fell in love with you at first sight as a kid, sharing his paints with you and trying to help you hold your paintbrush at a better angle. He took on most of the project when you were paired up in class, not even asking you to do any work. He walked you home almost every day. He looked at the crowd of his every basketball match, only to feel sadness when he didn’t find your face cheering him on.

He personally thought you were a shit girlfriend, but he loved you with ever fibre of his being so he couldn’t just let you go. He even bragged to the whole world about you, that was why he shared your semi-photos of social media. His friends even deemed you a bad girlfriend, but he still defended your every action.

Heeseung reached the door to lead to the locker room and turned to you with a wide smile. You went to pull your hand away so he could go inside, but instead you let out a gasp when he pulled you in, then into a private changing room. He locked the door behind him, pushing you to sit on the bench.

You looked at him with wide and surprised eyes, watching as he slipped his bag from his shoulder onto the floor by the door. He looked to the right and smirked. “I’m going to have a quick shower since I was working out this morning. I want you to sit front row so it’s easier to wait here so I can show you the quick way to the best seats, yeah?”

You laughed, leaning your head back against the wall. “Wow, you demand I’m your girlfriend and try to fuck me all in the same day.” You caught onto his plot quite quick, but you made no effort to leave. If you wanted to, he would have gladly just saved seeing you for later.

Heeseung rolled his eyes and crouched in front of you, his hands resting on your thighs for support. “It’s not my fault you forgot we were dating.”

“You never asked me,” You snapped, lifting your head to stare into his eyes. The way he raised an eyebrow made the butterflies fight once again. Your hands came to the sides of his jaw, holding his face in your hands. You felt drunk just from his looks.

“Of course I did, and you said ‘yeah, sure,’ so you’re all mine and I would appreciate it if you’d stop flirting with Sungchan,” Heeseung stated, his hands moving their way up your thighs to your hips, his touch gentle but behind his eyes, there was a dark look.

You couldn’t remember the day as you were so lost reading on your phone, how did he expect you to remember? He remembered the feeling of his skin becoming hot and his hands sweaty when he asked. The memory was engraved in his brain for the rest of time.

“Sungchan is literally about to go propose to his girlfriend so I can assure you, I do not flirt with him,” You stated, shaking Heeseung’s face in your hands.

Heeseung smiles wide and then pouted his lips. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you to the edge of the bench so your lips could meet his again. At first the kiss was gently, but Heeseung soon became needy and began to use his tongue and teeth into the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip to try and heat up the make out session.

You weren’t sure how to react, your brain hazy. You hated him, but you also really, really liked him. He was perfect in every way, despite the daily taunts of him being better than you. You didn’t know that was just his lame way of flirt, and made a reminder to show your boyfriend how to really flirt with a girl when you weren’t so needy to be against one another’s bare skin.

Your hands moved from his jaw back to lock around his neck, pulling him as close as possible. Heeseung smiled against your lips before one of his hands wrapped around your waist, then he grabbed the zip of your pants and he pulled it down. The action caused your pants to fall down a bit, you gasping against his lips. “What are you doing?”

Heeseung laughed and pulled back to rest his forehead against yours. “Sorry, I got a little too caught up. I just want to touch you and make everyone know you’re mine. Mark up the pretty skin on your neck, make you scream my name…”

Heeseung’s words drifted off as he became lost in his own perverted thoughts. Your cheeks became hot and you used one hand to fan at your face and neck, trying not to turn into a fit of nervous giggles.

You laughed and pulled back from him. Heeseung expected you to reject his offer, but God, he had no idea how much you had been dreaming of touching him beyond his face and arms. The parts of you that hated, really only hated that you thought he didn’t care about you. When you found out the truth, of course your whole body became crazed.

You grabbed the edge of your jumper and pulled it off, revealing you were wearing no undershirt or bra. Heeseung’s eyes bulged out of his head for a second before he smirked, his hands coming to your chest as his thumbs rubbed over your nipples, eliciting a moan from you.

“Oh no, is my pretty baby already needy for me?” Heeseung pouted, his thumbs flicking slow, then fast. You raised your hips, leaning your head back as you let out deep breaths. Heeseung took the hint, his hands pushing down your pants. He gripped your ass halfway down, then smirked to himself before he pushed the pants down to your knees.

You let out a gasp as his actions, but couldn’t hold back your laugh. “For someone who was always mean to their girlfriend, you’re sure acting real nice to me right now. Is it just because you’re going to be getting something out of this?”

Heeseung pouted and shook his head in denial. “Of course not, can’t I just treat my pretty girlfriend nice for once?”

Your rolled your eyes but nodded with a smile. Heeseung rushed to push your panties aside, no smart remarks coming from him for once. You were unsure how to react, but decided to just go along with it.

Neither you nor him ever dated anyone else and he was right, you did sleep over his every weekend after studying together. He was a secret best friend, one who tried to push your buttons.

He didn’t seem to comment on the fact when you sleep in his bed, you made sure to push your whole body against his in an attempt to get his attention. If he did notice, then he sure held some strong restraints against your seduction attempts.

You weren’t sure how Sungchan would react to you dating his academic rival, but decided it better to push the worry aside. That was something you could deal with at a later time.

Heeseung instantly dove his face between your legs, tongue out and ready to give you all the pleasure you wanted. His tongue pressed flat against your clit, and you let out a little shriek for the new yet exciting feeling.

[arcadekitten]

The Lambchop World is so fascinating and cool… but I’d like to know more about it as well! What’s the economy like there? Do people still have jobs, buy and sell stuff like supplies, clothing, food, etc… just like they do in Stella’s town?

(Also, speaking of which.., is everyone’s wardrobe that emo/gothic? Did Lambchop force it to be? Because I love Stella but those clothes are REALLY not her style! I really hope that Lambchop didn’t force her into wearing them… that’s leaning a bit too much into “toxic relationship power imbalance” for me)

What’s the general attitude of the population? Are they all violent, bloodthirsty and prickly besides Stella or do some of them retain their normal personalities? Do they lean in more towards their “animalistic” side (like Ruuuby eating Buck) or do they still eat normal food? …WHERE would they get normal food? Is it all meat and cannibalism??

Also, assuming that Lambchop goes after the whole WORLD instead of just a small village like Stella did… is death common there? Or does Lambchop resurrect them to “have some more fun” on his planet? Are his powers that of a normal Star witch as well? I’m so curious if it is!

And finally… what are Stella and Lambchop’s roles and relationship on this planet? Lambchop seems to live just like a common “resident” of that planet… getting into riots, street fights, etc. What does Stella do though? Is she just Lambchop’s personal nurse who takes care of him after he gets into fights or something?

This seems to be an anarchic world, so I doubt that their’ll be a government or any form of legal system there.., but I am curious if there is some sort of “gang hierarchy” on this place, like the most respected fighters are the rulers of certain territories and clans or something. It’ll make sense for his world, and I wonder if he’s in the “top hierarchy” or something like that, considering that he literally CREATED the world lol. Do the other residents have respect or are intimidated by him? What do they think of Stella?

P.S: Kinda a dumb question but are Stella and Lambchop in a relationship in this AU? Do they date and have a house (or a joint living area maybe) and live together or something? How do they treat each other? I like to think that Lambchop treats Stella…well, like allowing her a small garden to plant some flowers and have a semblance of normalcy in their home. Kind of like how Stella bloodied up her village for Lambchop, but much less drastic.

And for the million-dollar question: What on EARTH are the other Star Witches when Stella needs them??? Did they abandon her or something?

These are A LOT of questions, I’ll admit… Im rly sorry if this is too much :( But I’m just so curious about this world; the idea is absolutely fascinating to me!! Thank u sm for reading all this!! :D

oh this will be fun!! *cracks knuckles for the second time* I'll try to answer best I can!

-The economy is a bit strange. I think some people still kinda have jobs and make money, but money alone is probably not valued as much as "substances" or "favors" (Ex: "Get that fucker out of my bar and you'll get free drinks for the whole night" )

-Everyone's wardrobe is pretty emo-gothic, but I wouldn't describe it as a "Lambchop forced it to be" situation so much as. In the vision of Lambchop's perfect world this is just how society dresses. And so Stella dressing like this is more of a societally pressured thing. For one, there's probably not other clothing options. And if there is, dressing in a way that strays from the norm would be like affixing a giant target to her back--everyone would be trying to start shit with her. It's safer to blend in so people don't think you're soft.

-Most everyone is pretty prickly. And if they are "nice", it's a kind of niceness that incorporates violence into the mix--otherwise you'd be down for the count. Everyone's probably on "high defense mode" all the time and is just waiting for you to be the one that growls first.

-Most food is probably meat based. I don't imagine that everyone is just eating whoever they slaughter on the street (though some might) but rather there's some mysterious "meat processing" plants. Where's the meat come from? Don't spoil it by asking questions.

-I don't think Lambchop has any sort of special/magic powers that set him aside from everyone else. I think it's less of a "Lambchop controlling the world to be this way" and more of "The world itself shaping itself around his desires." Death is pretty common, though I hadn't considered the possibility of people coming back in this version too...interesting to think about.

-I think the possibility of some gang hierarchies exist, but I hadn't put too much thought into it. I do think some people might be more well-known either for being really good fighters and/or for starting trouble a lot. I feel like Lambchop wouldn't be the most well-known but might have a bit of a rep for being able to take people down.

-Combining some of your Stella questions into one, Stella's relationship with the planet is pretty...fraught. I think she's still got magic powers but they're nowhere near the the level of skill she's got in Sweet No Death. At most she can perform small magic, making things grow, levitating some smaller objects, etc. I feel like Stella's status as a star witch is vague even to herself--like maybe she got amnesia upon landing here, but she knows that things could surely be better than this... Stella tries to help people and sometimes they accept it and sometimes they don't, but when they do allow her to help she feels good inside and it helps restore a bit of her hope in the world.

I like to imagine that maybe Lambchop and Stella found each other when Stella was attempting to "fix" things instead of breaking them like everyone else, and Lambchop was a bit captivated by how different she was from everyone else. Stella would in turn see him as different from everyone else--less prickly, more smiley, and likes her company.

I think Lambchop and Stella are dating. They live in some dank, decrepit apartment building which probably isn't even owned by anyone anymore and they might be the only people in it. Stella's got something of a greenhouse on the balcony where she grows as many little plants as she can keep alive and can enjoy the feeling of fresh air for once.

Despite the general violence of the city and Lambchop preferring things this way, he and Stella have a pretty lovey relationship. They sleep in the same bed all cuddled up next to each other every night. If Stella is having a bad mental day (can't handle the stress of everything, being worried something really bad will happen to Lambchop if he goes out, etc) Lambchop will stay home with her and they'll spend the day snuggling and kissing and maybe working in her greenhouse. When Stella goes out Lambchop usually tries to be beside her. She's able to defend herself but he knows she doesn't *like* having to do that, so he doesn't mind being her bodyguard for anyone who would want to pick a fight with her. Sometimes they even try to go on dates outside despite how crazy everything is. When Lambchop gets into fights Stella bandages all his wounds when he gets hurt. She hates seeing him hurt but she loves seeing his smile as he recounts to her how he won. I think she uses whatever magic she has to help expedite his healing process.

-As for Star Witches, the thing about Star Witches is like...they are catty and judgemental but if you are another Star Witch they will not help you improve unless it benefits them in some way. They will come into your house and might adjust a crooked picture frame on the wall, but they won't clean up your kitchen or tidy up your living room or do your yard work for you. If they were to see a world like this they would not help it try to get better because it is not their monkeys, not their circus.

[kingmaker-a]

A piece of you for my lament | Karina

It's Complicated AU Related: Nocturnal Games

Warnings/Tags: Implied injuries though nothing is specified, Karina is surprisingly dour and reader is just trying their best despite how exhausted they are.

Sometimes it takes true strength to admit you're not enough.

Wordcount: 1.7k

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Another day, another loss… Well, that's far from the whole story. 

But it might as well be. 

Pain sinks its dastardly gnarly teeth before she's even truly conscious. The wince that trickles across her lips, gritting into a snarl against her teeth is familiar. 

Ragged shallow breath as her eyes try to flutter to life, to at least drag herself to her room in the hideout. 

To at least have some dignity… 

As if she could have any, how many times has she eaten shit so far? It's easy to lose count after the tenth time. 

A groan brushes past her soft lips, extradited by the slow twist of her tired ragged body, each movement is nearly sisyphean in nature. 

Perhaps she should be thankful when it's only her heart that jumps; her body too tired and unwilling as her eyes linger on your draped form coiled into some hopeful semblance of comfort. 

Still clad in your battlesuit, your helmet discarded somewhere to the side, still it's kind of cute the way you've taken to arguably the worst seating available. 

She can't help the way a smile dares its way across her lips, a coy tenderness unseen and unheard. Her leather jacket is the ever sweet cherry on top, a vain attempt at warmth or comfort. It's like watching an adult use a baby's blanket. 

But the fact that it's hers makes it endearing. 

Still a frown curls at the edges, pulled taut despite the pain that groans against her. 

You've seen better days. 

She can't help the concern that tugs at her heart as your features twist and contort caught in the fragmented edges of rest that you can manage. 

Sweat trickles at the edge of your brow tracing against sickly pale skin. 

She felt like death… But you? You're barely held together, all cut stitches and cello tape… Yet you drag yourself to the other side of it, amassing more bruises and cuts along the way. But you're used to it aren't you? 

Her gut wrenches against coiling waves, twisting underneath the turbulent roil of it all. 

You're used to it, that's what hurts more than the pain that crusts her skin, her brain is the deadly knife eking out a pound of fleshy torment with each stray thought. 

She can't help it, she really can't. 

She can't help the desperate burgeoning need to protect you, to prove herself forged in the fires of it all, instead she has to watch as you slowly fall apart, piece by piece. 

Drool trails and hangs off your lip, a precocious stream formed in the stupor of her thoughts. 

A chuckle trickles past her lips, shattering the moment like porcelain in a storm. 

Her small dainty piece of you, tiny and almost inconsequential. If it was in fact real, maybe it'd shimmer under the light and if it did, she'd hold it aloft and bathe in its incandescence. 

Perhaps if you hold it at the right angle and squint at it just right — but not too hard. You'd catch your reflection, big red nose and all. 

But that would be a lie, a make believe fairytale because that piece of you isn't real and it doesn't shimmer beautifully in the light, instead it's cast aside, washed away by the ravage of time and all she has is some facsimile of how she thinks she remembers that piece of you. 

But it's good enough. 

It's good enough for her to imagine the taste of surprise that lines your lips, when she kisses you so suddenly. 

To be fair, she wouldn't be able to help herself, you'd just make the dumbest face all twisted and strained. 

There would be that awkward moment where your teeth knock against each other because again she really can't help herself. 

It's cute and clumsy but it's made funny when it happens again because of course it fucking does. 

But she'll forgive you, especially because it is your fault that you smile too hard into it, billowing that hearty warmth just makes her melt. 

Your eyelashes tickle against her skin in just the right way, it's hard to find the time to breathe between all the breathy laughter or the sweltering heat that blooms in her chest, fingers cupping your face as she kisses you when she can, wherever she can. 

Again, she can't help it. Even when all the heat simmers down from a boil, even when you make a playful jab about how eager she was, earning you a playful smack across the shoulder. 

She loves you, that's simply it. 

Even if that moment never comes to pass, you stir as her chuckle reverberates. A yawn parts your lips as she catches those last fragmented echoes of the tired sore soldier you hide underneath it all. 

The serious piece of you.

Every bit as real as the snappy quips and the overall loser vibes… Though you're always cooler than you realise, not that she's ever voiced it. 

You always preferred being the loser anyway. 

You smile that dorky smile that errs on the side of cool, but never enough to actually be cool. It washes away all the tired grooves in your features, lifts the heavy weight of burden. 

"You did good," you point out. 

She squirms, though it doesn't quite reach her features, instead they pull into a thinly lined frown. 

"I ate shit."

Your smile blooms ever so slightly, and without even saying anything, pride bubbles in her chest. 

"That's what happens to all the cool kids."

She rolls her eyes, but she knows that you mean it, not in your weird twisted backwards logic of cringe being cool or cool being cringe. 

You were proud. 

Her lips swell at the corner tugging into the slightest smirk. 

"Is that why you don't do it anymore?" 

You pass her a wink at the click of your tongue, the slightest tickle of laughter builds in her stomach. 

It's hard to miss the way worry trickles in your eyes as they linger. 

You slowly tuck your fingers in against hers, soft yet calloused. 

Pain screams through her body, coursing with a scolding touch against every nerve in her hand. 

Still it's nothing compared to the anguish that lines her heart when you go to pull away. 

"Don't." She chokes as her grip tightens. 

Worried flecks echo and darken across your features crumbling against what thin veneer of okay you could manage. 

Your fingers retreat slowly. 

"Not yet… Please."

Tears well in her eyes as you pull away as pain echoes through her skull before she finds comfort cradled. 

It's not often she cracks in front of you, but there's a warm, tenderness held in your embrace as you slowly rock to and through that makes the pain almost bearable, she'd be fine come the morrow. 

Still a question poisons the tip of tongue, ghosting the edge of her mind even as she swaddles herself in your comforting embrace. 

Would you? The cracks cut deep in your flesh, inexplicably so and who would hold you? 

Her hand moves like an anchor, slowly and unwieldy as her arm barely obeys, her fingers slowly dances their way up your neck, caressing your cheek. 

Another piece, another fragment, yet it hurts all the more to see the tired cracks in your smile, barely held together. 

In those moments she bleeds, bleeds tears from her eyes coasted on the slowly gentle rock back and forth held between the two of you. 

She bleeds for you, the both of you. Her hand thumbs one last time against your cheek. 

Her voice runs hoarse as the thoughts fray and the words on her lips dry, it's odd the way the embarrassment finally catches up, burns at her ears with a searing heat. 

She musters a smile, even if it's her own very teeth that cut like jagged knives against her heart. 

She isn't strong enough to be selfish, not yet. 

"Jungeun," is all she musters, yet each syllable claws and drags like dry shattered glass and razor wire, it's caustic the way her name lines her throat. 

It bears no ill will, the pain that lumps her throat, after all it's just an admittance of what she lacks. 

One step at a time. 

Her thumb taps the edge of your lip, crushing any response that tinged the edge of your tongue. "Don't stay because you pity me… I'll be fine tomorrow."

Her heart aches when you frown, her eyes glistening with soft dew, her finger prods your nose. "But you won't be if you keep this up."

That's when the facade truly shatters, even if just for the moment, your grip tightens as mist slowly clouds your eyes. 

"I'm fine, I swear." your voice croaks and quivers as your hand trembles.

Perhaps that's the part of you that she actually hates… That's not quite right. She hates the part of you that foregoes yourself, tossed aside like the one thing that doesn't matter. 

It's a begging plea, but it's easy to see the flash of surprise in your eyes, a sullen tug of war against frayed nerves. 

"Do it for me, please." She was never good with arrows, but for the second time that night she hit a bullseye. 

After all that's one of your weaknesses isn't it? 

You press a kiss into her brow and she hates the way it makes all the physical pain fade away into pretty delicate embers. 

She laments that she can't be the one to cradle you in her embrace, but despite all her shortcomings, all her weaknesses, she's strong enough to cut pain into her heart so that you might get the respite you so desperately deserve. 

It takes all her strength to look up at you as lethargy slowly creeps in, her mind slowly fading into wispy echoes. 

Still she catches that brief glimmer of a smile. 

"Not until you're asleep okay?" 

Her lips curve into the slightest, unable to muster the energy to bloom into the same warmth that etches into her chest. She almost dares for more, but she's fading too quickly. 

Your lips brush against hers in a tender embrace of drowning comfort as sparks crackle and burn fading into the obscurity of sleep. 

But, perhaps that last part was fantasy, the work of an overactive imagination. But it's yet another piece she'd treasure until it all ends. 

She'll never notice the way you hold her in your embrace long after she's fallen asleep, fingers brushing through her hair with a proud smile or the way you linger far longer than you promised before the moment fractures like porcelain in a storm at the subtle buzz of your phone. 

A piece of her just for you.