#feel free to share the name with another muse or change it when sending in your account!

[nightlyxeternals]

03. SPRING SEARCH ─ Paid Google Doc Character Template. . .$5

hey there! this doc has been a highly anticipated doc for myself to release. it's such a pretty and cute doc and i'm absolutely in love with the way it turned out. the doc is so pretty and i spent so much time on it and i'm super excited to share with y'all! note: this doc is not really for beginners nor is it "mobile friendly" when it comes to editing. most of these images are drawings so you will need to edit them that way. other than that i hope y'all have fun using this doc ♡ also credit to @lemondaydream for two posts linked in this for the rules on why doc stealing is wrong and how to prevent people stealing/using a doc you paid for

** click source link to gain access **

rules & features:

01. please don't remove credits or claim as your own ─ you may edit it how you like just don't remove credits/claim as yours 02. the images/pngs were not made by me 03. changing around image sizes/positions may mess with the doc a little as well as going over/under text limit in text boxes 04. please like or reblog if you like this template and while i know this is a paid doc, please consider donating to my ko-fi ♡ 05. this is a paid doc so you may share this post and the link to the ko-fi post. but do not send a copy of the doc to your friend for free! explaination here 06. this is for personal use only! do not edit/change a little and resell or claim as yours to publish 07. do not try to edit the doc directly, make a copy. also please change your settings so when you share the doc it's not shareable with anyone else: tutorial here 01. single muse google doc template 02. 6 pages available 03. brief character intro/information, personality, appearance, connections, extra page, and backstory

how to use:

01. after purchasing open the link inside the rules page and hit file > make a copy > name your doc and edit and have fun with it 02. add your own images to the doc and please note that most of these images are "drawings" so they will need to be edited on pc by double clicking the image and going into the drawings tab 03. if you need to move a box that's overlapping another box, move the box on top to put it back underneath again

feel free to share with me what you've made! i'm always curious to see what people create with my docs!

[itsmaybitheway]

Hi my loves!!!! As someone who has almost 10+ WiPs and over 30 ideas in her list, I was over the moon when @magicandarchery @wordsofhoneydew and @getmehighonmagic tagged me on a WiP game!!!

Not all of my WiPs are outlined, so I can only share snippets or favorite lines from them but feel free to ask about any one that might intrigue you or any other future plans I have!!! 💞💞💞💞

1. All The Fics Lead Back To You : This is a WiP I’m currently posting. It is actually complete (between you and me I’m adding a bit more to the 10th Chapter and posting a bonus 11th Chapter) , but only the 6/10 of it is posted on AO3. It’s about Alex reading fanfiction about himself and Henry and going down a rabbit hole of fandom and sexual crisis!!

2. Written In Love: The newest addition to my What-If series !! What would happen if Alex found Henry’s journal the first night he stayed at Kensington!! (Now posted here!)

3. Twitter Fail AU (name TBD): Alex as the disaster he is, comes to term with his bisexuality pretty early on, (pre-Cakegate one might say) and starts running a Prince Henry stan account. Nothing can go wrong right?

4. Roommates AU (name TBD): Alex is straight. He is straight and happy. So why the fuck he’s losing his mind over his roommate/best friend Henry’s sex injury?

5. Verse-Change (name TBD): On the night of the Royal Wedding, in order to distract himself Book-verse Alex watches a movie. What in the multiverse hell?

6. Soulmate Mpreg AU (name TBD): Soulmates are things of legends. Legends call them halves. One half of a soul, and when they do find each other. They posses the power to will anything into existence.

7. A/O/B verse Fake Dating (name TBD): Alex’s first filibuster was at SeaWorld. His latest one? During the Royal Wedding when he attacks someone for talking down on Henry for being an Omega. After they take a tumble into the cake, the Crown and the White House are forced to announce they are bonded to explain it.

8. The Most Special Gift (name TBD): Another What-If where Henry gives Alex the most thoughtful gift for his birthday. He can’t be blaming for blurting out he loves Henry can he?

9. New Year Canon Divergent AU (name TBD): And yet another What-If where Nora sends Alex into an early sexuality crisis and Alex has a panic attack right before midnight with Henry by his side.

10. Neighbors AU (name TBD): Henry is being tested by his new neighbor who seems to- Well… waterboard the poor piano instead of writing it.

Before I start tagging please send prayers and muse and inspiration and STRENGTH my way because I have the BB fic to write on top of these!!!

Anyone who sees this if I ADHD-ed and forgot to tag you and if you participate tag me I wanna read what you guys are cooking!! And a few tags with no pressure attached <3<3<3 @affectionatelyrs @agame-writes @anincompletelist @anchoredarchangel @bitbybitwrites @cha-melodius @cricketnationrise @clottedcreamfudge @dumbpeachjuice @everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @gayrootvegetable @happiness-of-the-pursuit @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @inexplicablymine @indestructibleheart @indomitable-love @i-am-freyja @junebugclaremontdiaz @kiwiana-writes @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @msmarvelouswinchester @ninzied @orchidscript @priincebutt @suseagull04 @sherryvalli @songliili @three-drink-amy @theprinceandagcd @zwiazdziarka

[keeperofquestions]

Blog Rules (Mobile-Friendly Version)

Hello, my name is Skye (she/her, age 30+) and I’m the mun here. I’ve been RPing for nearly 20 years across fandoms and formats. If you want clarification on any of these rules, please feel free to send me an ask or IM. Rules are subject to change and will always be announced.

Last Revision: 07/10/2024

The Obvious. Respect one another and our characters. I expect we will write with each other and not for each other, not presume anything about each other’s characters, and generally be here for the love of storytelling.

This blog is non-exclusive. I do not require my writing partners to be mutuals with me for interaction, however I do reserve the right to choose who to write/RP with. I often do not follow personal blogs. By that extension, I don’t have exclusives or “mains” when it comes to interacting with canon characters. If you follow back from a blog that isn’t your RP one, please let me know who you are. Mutuals-only blogs: If I follow you (and you’re active) and after a week or so I don’t hear back, I am operating on the presumption that you’re not interested in interacting and I will unfollow. Unless specified or requested, I won’t be blocking anyone, though. If you just don’t get around to it and you follow me later on even after this, I’ll very likely check you out again. There is a non-zero chance I will forget something and refollow someone who I unfollowed through this process at some point. If this happens and you find it annoying, please feel free to block me.

Communication is a must. I’m almost certainly going to be jumping into your IMs on first contact unless you have rules about not using it. Either way, I highly request that we chat a little out of character before the first thread is written so we can hash out dynamics ideas and headcanons to avoid conflicts or confusion. I may not always answer new asks/starters right away if we haven’t done this yet. My IMs are always open. Always. If there’s a question or concern you have about anything, feel free to bring it up- within reason. Criticism is fine, harassment is not. I reserve my discord contact for consistent writing partners if we’ve been writing for a bit feel free to ask.

Mutuals are always permitted the following, including but not limited to: Send whatever nonsense you want through asks and submissions. Steal my memes. Reference my muse and our threads outside of them. Tag me in whatever memes or posts you wish. Send in random starters.

This blog is multiverse. There is no singular canon to this blog. Interactions with one character will not change interactions with another character unless all parties involved want a shared story. Multiple versions and do-overs are always perfectly fine. I do RP with duplicates of canon characters, but for the sake of keeping my verses and plotlines straight, if we’re planning a thread and I already RP with another version of a canon character, your version must have a different dynamic with my character than the first one does. I will inform on this ahead of time when plotting.

No crossovers with other franchises/original settings and lore. I just find them messy to deal with. Phel is meant to exist inside the world and setting of Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss entirely. I do accept random asks and commentary from just about anyone, though. If you have a Hellaverse version of another character, I will make an exception to this rule.

I prefer to plot things out. This goes for both story ideas and character dynamics. By default I presume Duedephelon isn’t connected to anyone nor do I expect him or his artifact to be recognized. However, I’m always open to both of these things and any ideas my writing partners may have about what any unanswered parts of Phel’s story may be.

You do not have to match my post length. I tend to be wordy in my replies, but this does not mean you have to do the same. If your style is an icon and a few lines, that’s perfectly fine. I enjoy quick one-liner interactions as well as the larger posts. Not everything has to be a grand story after all.

I have a post queue. Currently this means that plotted threads will be in a daily post delay with one post coming out a day. I may change this if the queue is backed up by over two weeks. However, roughly a week or so is the time expected for replies. However, don’t expect a hard timeline or ETA. You are always free to ask me where a post is in terms of drafted vs queued if it’s been a while. I will usually write the post, then talk to you about what’s in the queue in case we want to plan out any other details ahead of time. I do not limit how many threads I can have with any one person.

I don’t do NSFW RP. I mostly mean this in terms of smut RP. The source material can be fairly raunchy, yes, but I don’t prefer to write it. I also don’t write/reference anything extreme in terms of gore or taboo sexual content (I won’t list specifics here but if it would get someone arrested in the real world, it’s safe to assume it won’t be here.)

I don’t do fights or shipping scenes at the start. I don’t mind writing either of these but it shouldn’t be the first interaction our characters have. This is entirely a matter of my personal preference. I may occasionally make exceptions if it’s very well planned out.

I’m flexible with canon. Everyone has headcanons and parts of a series lore they don’t know or like. I don’t expect perfect lore knowledge or strict adherence to Hellaverse official lore out of my RP partners. However, unless someone’s headcanons or blog details specifies otherwise, I’m going to be operating on all available defaults for the shows as presented. If I assume something incorrect about your character, please feel free to correct me! I will always go through canon character profiles with the same bespoke care I would give to OCs. Everyone’s portrayal of a character is different, or even wholly canon-divergent, and I have no trouble RPing with canon duplicates as a result. 

Please discuss any triggers or boundaries with me ahead of time. I don’t have any particulars that need to be brought up immediately, but I do assume that anything that goes on in the shows that inspired this character is an expected default in terms of subject matter and tone addressed. If there’s any subject matter you don’t want brought up, just say so. I want this to be a fun and safe time for everyone. Followers are always free to ask something be tagged for any reason. I tag my triggers as “tw ”

I have a day job schedule. I likely will not be able to be contacted, let alone post on most weekdays before the evening. Furthermore I have other obligations so there may be days I will be inactive. I ask you please be patient with me if I’m not there for a while. My time zone is EST (GMT -5).

I always plan fight scenes out ahead of time with RP partners. Phel is capable but not an expert fighter and isn’t intended to get into a lot of heavy action scenes, but in the chance they do I always want to plan out the outcome ahead of time in a way that will tell an interesting story rather than simply to showcase one character’s power over the other.

A note on shipping. Phel’s age is vague but his “actual” age will be close to that of a shipping partner if one starts. I don’t personally like large age gaps in ships and this sort of Schrodinger’s DoB was my solution to that. I presume he’s 18 or 19 (in Hell years) at a minimum but can be older. ICly, Phel is extremely hard to actually woo and anyone genuinely interested in him would have to be the one to approach him, but there’s no guarantee he will reciprocate.  OOCly, I don’t often plan ships and prefer muse chemistry develop over the course of a story. Though, I am also okay with one-sided ships and if your character winds up feeling a certain way toward mine (positive or negative) go for it.

The Do Not Interact List

Here is the list of blogs I will not interact with:

Minors: This is a character set in a very mature franchise intended for adults and some kinds of mature content are inevitable.

Personal Blogs: Questions are okay but I want to focus on writing/roleplaying with Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel characters and other OCs.

Blogs that contain hateful content/ideals: Specifically if it’s the mun who expresses intolerant/hateful views. Characters can be huge assholes so long as it’s acknowledged. This blog is to be an inclusive and accepting space and a refusal to also do so is a no go from me. Tolerance requires rejecting intolerance.

[heartxshaped-bruises]

GET TO KNOW THE MUN !!

TAGGED BY: @lxvefrxmthextherside an eternity ago (( thx <;3 )) TAGGING: @myriadxofxmuses @mxrdershewxote @brokenblondeprincess @cursedvessels @kingdom-of-vanity @fantasycorrupted && everyone who wants to

                                             ✧･ﾟ 𝐃𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄.

NAME? ----

PRONOUNS? ----

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION? Tumblr Messenger

MOST ACTIVE MUSE? That usually depends. Most of my interactions are very balanced, but there are times when I have more threads with some over others. Right now it's Alexandra and Rachel. But when it comes to inspiration for writing, my most active ones would be Emry and Joe.

EXPERIENCE / HOW MANY YEARS? I've been part of the tumblr RPC since 2015, so technically 8 years. But I've been writing for two more on ProBoards before that, so all in all 10 years of rping.

BEST EXPERIENCE? There are so many different kinds of experiences and many were great, to be honest. I don't want to single out one. Generally, the best ones are always the connections I make both with the muns OOC and between our muses, building a whole little canon universe around them. It makes it a very immersive experience and I adore that.

RP PET PEEVES? I think this whole 'reblog from the source' thing nowadays incredibly tedious and silly. I get it when it comes to memes, but not inspiration posts etc. What's the point of being mutuals if we can't share our posts with each other?

I can tell if someone reblogs a post from the source after they saw it on my blog beforehand. It doesn't change anything. It just makes it incredibly weird and awkward, imo. Kinda off-putting. Like, as if mutuals feel embarrassed about being mutuals and they want to avoid any trace of their followers on their blog. So please, for the love of the universe, feel free to reblog stuff directly from me. Don't be afraid about that. I don't mind at all <3

Another one that I see spreading on here is sending memes but never or only selectively acknowledging what that person wrote for you. It makes you feel like they only sent the meme for the sake of being a good mutual and not because they actually want to see that interaction.

FLUFF, ANGST OR SMUT? Depends on the muse. Smut definitely comes in last, tho. I think I prefer angst over fluff, but both can be incredibly great to write with certain muses.

PLOTS OR MEMES? I love the whole process of plotting, ngl.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES? Depends on the muse as well. I prefer about three paragraphs somewhere in between. Too short isn't engaging or stimulating enough for my brain, that's why I never do one-liners or shorter than a paragraph. And too long can burn me out sometimes and take me longer to respond to, so I am always worried my partners are getting impatient bc I'm low-activity, mostly.

TIME TO WRITE? I love late afternoon and in the evening hours. Right now, my new time-zone is very annoying, tho.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSES? Nah, not really. I think there are some tiny splinters in all of them, but if they were like me, I wouldn't write them. I don't find appeal in writing characters who are like myself. That's kinda boring. Like, take Emry for an example - I adore writing that dork, but he's based on one guy I had the displeasure to deal with in High School. He annoyed the hell out of me and left quite the impression. But Emry is one of my favorite muses to write, soooo... you get the gist.

[the-iceni-bitch]

okay so, first of all, i want to say I'm sorry, I didn't know you were going through shit all this time, and hurting your feelings was truly not my intention. I really mean my apology. I never meant to kill your muse either.

second, I truly meant that I love your work and your writing and that series, I wasn't trying to sugar coat anything by saying that. and I agree that writers don't owe us anything and are rather doing us a favor by sharing content for free. I've been a fan of yours ever since I found out about you, interacted with you on anon, reblogged your fics as well and I think it's only fair to do that for the time you take out to write fics for us, and I swear, hurting you was not my intention. I should've known that you might not like an ask like that. you decide what to do with your series, and how to write it. you do you ❤️

honestly, I'm surprised at the comments wishing me a shitty month ahead and people calling me a bitch, a cunt, entitled and whatnot. as long as i was supporting you and all of the other writers in the comments, and dropping lovely comments on their fics, i was a nice person. but for once when I said how i felt about a fic, I got all that hate. imo, when people create content, they need to be prepared to receive criticism along with appreciation, they both come hand in hand, they can't ask for appreciation alone. please understand, that i know the difference between criticizing and hating or bullying someone. I didn't mean to come off as hateful or rude or entitled, but I get it that you never asked for criticism, and I shouldn't have given that, especially since it wasn't constructive criticism. I'm no writer myself and I failed to provide a solution with the criticism, sorry.

and people who want a reason to hate will hate this ask as well, they'll call me names and find a problem with this as well.

thank you for everyone who wished for a shitty month for me and everyone who called me names. i hope you all have a great month ahead, and sending you all a hug 🫂

Listen, I do feel bad about how aggressive my answer to your last ask was, and for the name calling on my part, so I want to apologize for that portion of it. I do stand by the overall message I conveyed, but it could have been done in a softer way. I’m not going to apologize for all the other authors, because I did set the tone of the post, and I also don’t believe in censoring other people’s emotions, and I think the notes on the answer provide a little bit of context for how the writing community on tumblr is getting constantly bombarded by criticism they did not solicit.

The reason you didn’t know about the stuff I was going through is because I try to keep this place fun and light, and honestly when I’m having a tough time, I prefer to privately reach out to friends and mutuals to get through it rather than broadcast it to the masses. But that’s another reason why everyone should consider how something they plan on sending could come off, because so many of us don’t share all of our lives here, and you never know what someone else is going through.

I do appreciate that you love my work, and the point of my last answer wasn’t that you need to love every part of it. You are welcome to skip whatever parts of it you want to, and if something doesn’t resonate with you for whatever reason, that’s okay. But once something is posted, that’s kind of it. I’m not going to go back and make changes, so unless I have explicitly asked for criticism, it is going to come off as unwelcome, no matter the context.

And I’m going to ask you this because I am genuinely curious: what were you hoping to accomplish with your previous ask? It’s very hard for me to come up with a scenario where that wouldn’t have been poorly received, but I’m on the other side of it. So I really would like to know what the overall intention of the ask was.

Wishing you a good day, and I do appreciate you reaching out again, because you didn’t have to do that and I know it was hard with the response you got.

[twistedtangledfate]

send (HC: the name of one of my muses) and i’ll give you 5 random headcanons about them! feel free to specify if you want them to be relationship headcanons involving your muse. / Nimerah in general, Alicent in general, Sunfyre and Gerrax (it you can't get five out of that, general is fine too!)

@nerdqueenmari

Nimerah

1: Nimerah feels a great amount of frustration at being confined to a role that she doesn't feel suits her soul. She greatly dislikes being a woman and she even dislikes being a Lannister sometimes. There are no female Lannister warriors and her family have an expectation of her that does not mean her own expectations of what her life should be.

2: Nimerah enjoyed drawing when she was younger but it didn't become a lifelong passion until her father expressed his concerns that it wasn't ladylike enough and she threw herself into it partially out of petulance and defiance. She quickly found that it was something she loved.

3: Nimerah loves to ride horses as fast as she can go. She wants to feel the wind against her cheek, wants to let her hair fly loose and feel even just for a few moments that she is a free spirit in a world of confinement.

4: Nimerah extracted a promise from her mother that she would be allowed to choose her own husband. This was in response to an attempt to run away that was foiled by her mother before she got particularly far. There would have been hell to pay if her father had found her. This promise was only to last until she reached her majority. If she hadn't found a suitable match by then, then her father would decide for her. Nimerah never took that for granted because she knew that it was the sort of thing that was uncommon.

5: Nimerah loves her siblings but she does have a tendency to feel like she is a disgrace to the family and that she would be more convenient to them if she were a Septa or just not there at all. She fears that history will not remember her, that she will be just another forgotten name on the Lannister family tree.

Alicent

1: Alicent used to sing to her children to try and soothe them when they were younger. She would even make up her own songs but as soon as they reached the age where they would start to talk, she stopped. She was concerned that such a thing wouldn't be seen as being queenly enough.

2: Alicent didn't want to marry Viserys and she did not enjoy being married to him but she had to admit that he had moments of remarkable tenderness, moments where he made her feel as though she were valued for the person she was and not just as a brood mare.

3: Alicent suffers from back and shoulder pain. It's why she enjoys bathing as much as she does. The shoulder pain was particularly bad when she was pregnant and she needed a massage of sorts three times a week to help.

4: Alicent carries many regrets around with her and she wishes that she could go back and change things; that she would be kinder to Aegon and Aemond, that she would fight harder for her children's rightful inheritance, that she would attempt to take charge of her own destiny.

5: Alicent is frightened of the dragons but she grows to become somewhat accustomed to them but she never forgets the power they have and how that can be misused. She tried to impress upon Aemond especially the importance of humility and compassion and he told her that when it came to dragons, she had nothing of note to share with him.

Sunfyre

1: Sunfyre doesn't get to see Aegon as much as he would like so when they do go out together, Sunfyre deliberately stretches their time out together as long as possible. He has kept Aegon away from the Red Keep from the morning until the later hours of the night.

2: Sunfyre likes getting his belly rubbed anywhere on his belly and he especially likes when Aegon presses his cheek against Sunfyre's own. It brings him comfort and makes him very happy.

3: Sunfyre can be quite playful with the other dragons but he is smart about it. He knows who to stay away from (Vhagar, Meleys and Caraxes mainly) and who he can play games with and such (Dreamfyre).

4: Sunfyre was confused about the concept of being a father having never paid much attention to it when the other dragons did it. That being said, he can be a bit rough with Gerrax sometimes and it is not the first time he's knocked him right over when he's tried to be affectionate and it's not going to be the last.

5: When Gerrax was small and couldn't fly properly himself, Sunfyre used to play a game with him where Gerrax would cling on and Sunfyre would do a short flight around the city before bringing him back.

[keeperofanswers]

Blog Rules (Mobile-Friendly Version)

Hello, my name is Skye (she/her, age 30+) and I’m the mun here. I’ve been RPing for nearly 20 years across fandoms and formats. Mun is LGBTQIA+ and thus this blog is queer-friendly. This characters is meant to RP in the universe of Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss; no relation or affiliation to the creators.

Rules are subject to change and will always be announced.

This is a sideblog that follows back from @keeperofquestions. You do NOT have to be following or interacting with that blog to do so with this one.

Last Revision: 07/10/2024

The Obvious. Respect one another and our characters. I expect we will write with each other and not for each other, not presume anything about each other’s characters, and generally be here for the love of storytelling. This blog is non-exclusive. I do not require my writing partners to be mutuals with me for interaction, however I do reserve the right to choose who to write/RP with. I often do not follow personal blogs. By that extension, I don’t have exclusives or “mains” when it comes to interacting with canon characters. If you follow back from a blog that isn’t your RP one, please let me know who you are.

Mutuals-only blogs: If I follow you (and you’re active) and after a week or so I don’t hear back, I am operating on the presumption that you’re not interested in interacting and I will unfollow. Unless specified or requested, I won’t be blocking anyone, though. If you just don’t get around to it and you follow me later on even after this, I’ll very likely check you out again. There is a non-zero chance I will forget something and refollow someone who I unfollowed through this process at some point. If this happens and you find it annoying, please feel free to block me.

Communication is a must. I’m almost certainly going to be jumping into your IMs on first contact unless you have rules about not using it. Either way, I highly request that we chat a little out of character before the first thread is written so we can hash out dynamics ideas and headcanons to avoid conflicts or confusion. I may not always answer new asks/starters right away if we haven’t done this yet. My IMs are always open. Always. If there’s a question or concern you have about anything, feel free to bring it up- within reason. Criticism is fine, harassment is not. I reserve my discord contact for consistent writing partners if we’ve been writing for a bit feel free to ask. If we’re fresh mutuals, expect a greeting in your IMs unless you have in your rules not to.

Mutuals are always permitted the following, including but not limited to: Send whatever nonsense you want through asks and submissions. Steal my memes. Reference my muse and our threads outside of them. Tag me in whatever memes or posts you wish. Send in random starters.

This blog is multiverse. There is no singular canon to this blog. Interactions with one character will not change interactions with another character unless all parties involved want a shared story. Multiple versions and do-overs are always perfectly fine. I do RP with duplicates of canon characters, but for the sake of keeping my verses and plotlines straight, if we’re planning a thread and I already RP with another version of a canon character, your version must have a different dynamic with my character than the first one does. I will inform on this ahead of time when plotting.

No crossovers with other franchises/original settings and lore. I just find them messy to deal with. This blog is meant to exist inside the world and setting of Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss entirely. I do accept random asks and commentary from just about anyone, though. If you have a Hellaverse version of another character, I will make an exception to this rule.

I prefer to plot things out. This goes for both story ideas and character dynamics. By default I presume Duke Gusion to be recognizable by members of the Ars Goetia and others who would know a lot about them but the extent of which is determined by you.

You do not have to match my post length. I tend to be wordy in my replies, but this does not mean you have to do the same. If your style is an icon and a few lines, that’s perfectly fine. I enjoy quick one-liner interactions as well as the larger posts. Not everything has to be a grand story after all.

I have a post queue. Currently this means that plotted threads will be in a daily post delay with one post coming out a day. I may change this if the queue is backed up by over two weeks. However, roughly a week or so is the time expected for replies. However, don’t expect a hard timeline or ETA. You are always free to ask me where a post is in terms of drafted vs queued if it’s been a while. I will usually write the post, then talk to you about what’s in the queue in case we want to plan out any other details ahead of time. I do not limit how many threads I can have with any one person.

I don’t do NSFW RP. I mostly mean this in terms of smut RP. The source material can be fairly raunchy, yes, but I don’t prefer to write it. I also don’t write/reference anything extreme in terms of gore or taboo sexual content (I won’t list specifics here but if it would get someone arrested in the real world, it’s safe to assume it won’t be here.)

I don’t do fights or shipping scenes at the start. I don’t mind writing either of these but it shouldn’t be the first interaction our characters have. This is entirely a matter of my personal preference. I may occasionally make exceptions if it’s very well planned out.

I’m flexible with canon. Everyone has headcanons and parts of a series lore they don’t know or like. I don’t expect perfect lore knowledge or strict adherence to Hellaverse official lore out of my RP partners. However, unless someone’s headcanons or blog details specifies otherwise, I’m going to be operating on all available defaults for the shows as presented. If I assume something incorrect about your character, please feel free to correct me! I will always go through canon character profiles with the same bespoke care I would give to OCs. Everyone’s portrayal of a character is different, or even wholly canon-divergent, and I have no trouble RPing with canon duplicates as a result.

Please discuss any triggers or boundaries with me ahead of time. I don’t have any particulars that need to be brought up immediately, but I do assume that anything that goes on in the shows that inspired this character is an expected default in terms of subject matter and tone addressed. If there’s any subject matter you don’t want brought up, just say so. I want this to be a fun and safe time for everyone. Followers are always free to ask something be tagged for any reason. I tag my triggers as “tw ”

I have a day job schedule. I likely will not be able to be contacted, let alone post on most weekdays before the evening. Furthermore I have other obligations so there may be days I will be inactive. I ask you please be patient with me if I’m not there for a while. My time zone is EST (GMT -5).

I always plan fight scenes out ahead of time with RP partners. When writing fight scenes, I always want to plan out the outcome ahead of time in a way that will tell an interesting story rather than simply to showcase one character’s power over the other. However, Gusion is a powerful warrior and sorcerer that isn’t meant to be taken lightly.

A note on shipping. Gusion is an ancient, ageless being much like other known Ars Goetia in Hell and is likely to treat sinners and lesser Hellborn with finite lifespans more as children than as equals. With that keep the following in mind. However I have no issues with one-sided affections toward my character. ICly, Gusion is Ars Goetia and follows the strict rules and taboos regarding dating outside of the caste and its arranged marriages. Getting his attention on a personal level requires giving a very good reason for him to ignore those rules. OOCly, I don’t often plan ships and prefer muse chemistry develop over the course of a story. Though, I am also okay with one-sided ships and if your character winds up feeling a certain way toward mine (positive or negative) go for it.

THE DO NOT INTERACT LIST Here is the list of blogs I will not interact with:

Minors: This is a character set in a very mature franchise intended for adults and some kinds of mature content are inevitable. Personal Blogs: Questions are okay but I want to focus on writing/roleplaying with Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel characters and other OCs. Blogs that contain hateful content/ideals: Specifically if it’s the mun who expresses intolerant/hateful views. Characters can be huge assholes so long as it’s acknowledged. This blog is to be an inclusive and accepting space and a refusal to also do so is a no go from me. Tolerance requires rejecting intolerance.

[glilboy]

ATEEZ Reactions to finding you reading smut about them: Maknae Line

i tried so hard to finish this afterworo and before bed lol. the first part did, so well? im genuinely shocked ill be honest. hope this one is just as good.

requests are open btw!!

tws below the cut

Warning! This work of fiction contains mentions of quirofilia, strength kink, dom/sub dynamics implications and general explicit topics

San:

"Baby just let me play it I just want to get us to the same level," San whined at you about a game you both played. He practically coaxed you into playing but now you genuinely enjoyed it, being hesitent to let him get you farther.

"I want to experience it myself though Sannie," you pouted back at him leaning your head on his shoulder.

"I just want to do the things you've been avoiding! It'll give you enough experience to be the same level, please," his voice became higher pitched which was your call to just let him do it.

"Whatever," you said in a fake angry voice, instantly giggling, "you do that, I'm gonna go grab a snack." You hopped up and off the bed, leaving your phone for him to mess with.

Picking up your phone, happy he got his way, he went to open the app but one was already open.

Humming he read a bit and when he read his name he twitched a little. So this was what you liked. San made you extremely nervous which caused you to be a bit hesitant to share what you liked in bed. You planned to tell him one day but he hurried that process up.

Hearing you coming back he quickly opened the right app even though he now had no actual intention to progress you.

"I am back!" you smiled plopping down with some cut fruit.

"No shit," he mused causing you to roll your eyes with a smile. His brain itching to do something now, an idea popped in seeing you eat the fruit.

Taking a piece of strawberry he held it up to your lips, you unknowingly smiled and took the fruit into your mouth. His breathing accelerated. Waiting a few minutes before he took another piece, he at first popped a piece into his mouth then grabbing another to hold it up again. You took the piece but a muffled sound of surprise came out with it when san shoved his fingers inside a bit.

Looking at him wide eyed and confused you met his which looked at you intensely. You didn't even have a chance to stop yourself before you started to suck his fingers.

"Fuck," he mumbled his gaze going a bit hazy at seeing you like this.

After sucking on his fingers for a moment you let go with a pop.

"You should really let me read more of those stories Y/N," him saying that is what made it all hit.

"Wait- oh shit," you mumbled before he took your jaw in one of his hands squishing your mouth open. The other holding another piece and pressing it to your tongue.

"I would've known sooner just how pretty you think my hands are dear."

Mingi:

Mingi could feel his face turn red, not suspecting is seemingly soft tasted girlfriend to read stuff like this. He was just trying to help! You were busy cooking dinner and asked him to send a text back to your friend, forgetting what you were last doing.

He gulped and set down your phone once sending the message. He wanted to talk about it but he had no clue how to bring it up. Once seated eating dinner you could feel the energy was off since earlier he was in such a great mood. You chose to ask about it after the meal not wanting to have an awkward dinner.

Washing the dishes you didn't feel Mingi approach from behind until he wrapped his hands around your waist.

"Hm? What's up baby?" You hummed softly with a smile.

"Can you do the dishes later...I need to talk to you about something," He set his chin on your shoulder and you could just hear a slight pout in his voice.

Drying off your hands you turned around to look at him, "what's up Mingi?"

He leaned up and took a deep breathe making you a bit worried.

"I- um fuck- Y/N I saw whats on your phone," he hesitated before just ripping off the bandaid.

Your face instantly dropped mumbling a small "ah fuck"

You stayed silent with his hands sitting on your waist. You looked at him before speaking, "Gi, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Do you want to talk about how you feel about seeing it? I'm sure you're pissed."

He tilted his head questioningly at the end, "What no- I mean, like yeah it could be weird but you're reading about me so I don't see an issue, at least as of now."

You we're now pretty puzzled, a bit tongue tied. If you remembered right, the work you had been reading was well pretty aggressive so you were sure Mingi would be weirded out. He was a soft guy and you guys experimented occasionally but nothing that far.

Being able to tell you got in your head he spoke again, "I liked it. I...liked it Y/N."

Looking back at him, his hands tightened on your waist and he moved closer so your lips brushed each others.

"Please- Fuck, can we try it?"

wooyoung:

"Y/N! Can I use your phone for a second?" Wooyoung whined laying on the bed while you we're folding laundry. He wanted attention but you had chores to do.

"Why?" You looked at him weird, knowing he was up to something.

"You'll see," he smiled, just wanting to take selfies on your phone but opened it to a book of sorts.

Curiosity got the best of him as he skimmed the page, a faint blush creeping up his neck. You guys had done a lot but something in him was set off, a smile creeping up his lips.

"Pervert," He spoke deadpanned up at you making you frown before it clicked.

"Wooyoung."

"Y/N."

A moment passed before suddenly he popped up, grabbing your hair and forcing your face into the bed. A giggle sounded from behind you as he leaned down to talk into your ear, "You read stuff like that? You're that horny for just me that you read that kind of shit? Lord your fucking head over heels for me."

"Shut the fuck up-" Your voice got cut off as he lifted you up by your hair, a hand wrapping around your throat making your mind flutter.

"Say that one more time and I'll fuck your face until you pass out like that little book dear."

Jongho:

It was supposed to be a night filled with movies, snacks, giggles and cuddles but your bladder decided to change the trajectory of the night. Excusing yourself to the bathroom you left your phone on the table faced up, not remembering that you left your tumblr notifications on around someone. The phone pinged three times in a row, making Jongho curious to which he glanced over at it.

'c. j 10:15

strength kink'

"What," he said outloud.

Clicking on the notification he began to read the work, blushing at it and embarrassed that he..liked it. Licking his lips he looked around a bit flustered.

When he heard the bathroom door shut he quickly set your phone back down, trying to not awkwardly sit there. You came back like nothing was wrong, cuddling into his side continuing to watch the film.

This is where a few days passed, each day driving Jongho more and more up the wall. Hiding in the bathroom at the studio just to get off without the chance of being caught, at least by you. Scenarios spinning in his head constantly making him want to do anything and everything at once.

When he got home that day you weren't there, his need skyrocketing to the moon. He quickly made it to your bed room and moved to the bed taking off his shirt in the process. He searched around frantically for anything of yours, spotting a t-shirt a few feet away. He pulled down his sweats letting his member spring free, bringing the shirt up to his face to inhale your scent and began to jerk off.

You on the other hand just had your friend drop you off, you jumping up the stairs excited to bring home some pastries to your boyfriend. Coming inside you quickly slipped off your shoes and looked around for him. Seeing he wasn't in the living room you headed towards your bedroom asumming he was there. Opening the door to a sight to see, Jongho jerking himself off while smelling your shirt.

You stood there silent until he opened his eyes, him now being in such a deep mindspace he didn't even seem phased. Slipping his pants back up he waltzed over to you and stood there staring at you.

"I've been going fucking insane, Y/N," he spoke getting closer, shutting the door behind you.

"What do you mean baby?" You asked softly at him. He smiled a bit and lifted a hand to your shoulder making you inhale.

"Your little fucking stories Y/N."

You looked at him wide eyed, thinking you might know which one he saw. "Jo- Fuck I'm sorry, oh god," you began to frantically apologize.

That was when he picked you up and held you up against the wall with one arm, the other hand sitting lazily around your neck.

"No. No. You've been driving me crazy in a good way. Now let me fuck you against this wall unless you want me cumming in your t-shirt."

[silversatoru]

Can i regurst a gojo x reader smut where y/n is gojo’s ex girlfriend and also a strong jujutsu sorcerer and they get back together asdfghjkl 🥺😂? Tyy 🥺

hehhee yes ma’am here u are!!! i actually loved writing this one (i think i just have a thing for writing gojo lately lmao) anyway! i! hope! you! enjoy!

to heaven and back

gojo satoru x f! sorcerer!reader

synopsis: you and your ex, gojo satoru, beat the hell out of a few special grade curses and then head back to his house to rekindle an old (and kind of kinky) flame

tags/warnings: nsfw (18+), smut, handcuffs, blindfolding, little bit of oral sex, teasing, alcohol consumption, some fluff at the end? just a little

word count: 3.1k

You lifted your elegant glass of random wine that you could care less about knowing the name of, and took a long sip. All of these old rich bastards talked way too much about brand names, aging, and what cheese paired well with each wine. They were missing what was really important — which one would get you drunk the quickest. 

These kinds of formal events weren’t really your scene, and having to listen to a bunch of old, conservative, high-up jujutsu leaders was terribly boring — so why not take this opportunity to get a little tipsy? You deserved it for putting up with all of these assholes. After all, the only reason they invited you to this prestigious event was for protection. If that pesky band of special grade curses caught wind that all of the higher ups from both Kyoto and Tokyo were in the same place, they were sure to launch some kind of attack. The old, wrinkly douchebags couldn’t care less about your opinions of the jujutsu world and how you would change it, they only liked you for incredible cursed technique. 

And so here you were, spitefully wearing your most elegant dress and downing glasses of wine in an attempt to drown out all of the nonsense around you. There was only one thing that could make this event any worse and— 

“Hello everyone! The strongest jujutsu sorcerer has arrived — I know you were all looking forward to my appearance”. 

And there it was. There was that one thing that could make this event any worse. Gojo Satoru.

You dipped your head low, burying yourself in your glass of wine and praying to any god who would listen to not let this man see you. It’s been over two years since the two of you broke up, but he still wasn’t someone you enjoyed running into. 

Gojo was terribly notorious for having a long line of girls at his disposal, and with his incredible strength and annoyingly good-looks, it wasn’t hard to understand why. The two of you had never been in an officially committed relationship, and so technically Gojo was free to do as he pleased — but you were practically dating and your heart ached every time you caught wind of him being with another woman. And so two years ago you cut things off with him for good — you were tired of being the one he always ran back to at the end of the day. 

He’d looked at you with eyes full of pain that night, begging and pleading to stay with him. He showed you a vulnerable side to him that you had never seen before — and he swore to you that if you had asked to make things official, he would have committed himself to you fully. You declined however, because you felt like you shouldn’t have needed to ask for that kind of thing — but maybe that was just your ego getting in the way. 

“Hey, beautiful, I’ve never seen you around before, you must be from the Tokyo campus,” Some random assistant casually leaned against the counter you were sitting at and shook you out of your thoughts.

“If you’ve never seen me before then you must not be very important,” You shot him a distasteful glance, taking another sip of your wine. 

The man’s face lit up with panic — he must not have been expecting such retaliation to his pathetic attempt of flirting. 

“Are you bothering her?” A familiar voice came from behind you — a long, slender hand slapping down onto your shoulder, “Please don’t flirt with my wife”. 

“Ah- Wife? I’m so sorry, sir,” The man stumbled over his words, bowing his head to Gojo and scurrying away. 

Gojo wasted no time sliding into the seat next to you and pouring himself a glass of wine from the bottle you’d already been working on. 

“Really? You’re telling people I’m your wife now?” You gave him a deadpanned look. 

“It worked, didn’t it?” He shrugged his shoulders and took a sip from his glass. 

You rolled your eyes hard, “Why are you here, Satoru?” 

“Same reason as you. The old, conservative pussies are afraid those special grades might attack — so why not invite their two prized sorcerers to protect them?” 

“Fair,” You let out a heavy sigh, “Not sure that was their best move though — I don’t think either one of us is very motivated to save these fuckers”. 

“No, but I brought my students with me today. So, if anything does happen, make sure you put on a show for them,” He winked, already topping off his wine glass. 

You looked over to see a few kids sitting a couple tables away from the two of you, chatting amongst themselves and wondering why the fuck they had to be here. 

And so an hour or two went by, and to your surprise, you found yourself laughing hysterically alongside Gojo. The two of you had definitely drank a bit too much, and your personalities complimented each other a little too perfectly. You shared the same terrible sense of humor and he had quite the knack for bringing out this lighthearted side of you. You had missed moments like this these past two years. 

Neither of you were paying any attention to the current debate that was occurring between the higher ups when a loud crash sent broken pieces of glass flying through the grand hall. Sure enough, the curses had made their appearance and came flying into the building through a now broken window.

“It’s our time to shine, huh?” Gojo looked over at you, and you imagined that his icy blue eyes were swirling with excitement under that mask. 

“Yeah, let’s make this quick,” You found a warm ball of excitement churning in your own stomach — it’d been a long time since the two of you had fought together. 

Your technique revolved around the manipulation of cursed energy and converting it into light. You could wrap yourself in a shield of light, send curse-filled bursts of light at your enemies, and move at the speed of light as well — which was almost as efficient as Gojo’s teleportation abilities. You had a series of more advanced moves as well, but those required more energy output and therefore you used them a little less often.

The two of you were both able to move so fast that the curses really didn’t stand a chance. You found yourself laughing as you flipped through the air, hurling balls of light at the curses as Gojo worked closer in hand-to-hand combat. At one point, while the two of you were flying past each other, Gojo stuck out his hand and gave you a high five, both of you smiling like maniacs who enjoyed fighting a little too much. 

Between Gojo’s Limitless and your extreme agility and bursts of light, the curses were quickly forced to flee. Both of you were feeling much too drunk and much too lazy to chase after them, even with all of the higher ups begging you to do so. Gojo simply flipped them off and stuck out his tongue, saying that he did what they paid him to do — keep the curses away — and now that the curses had been scared off, he was no longer needed. 

“You want to come back with me, relieve more of our old memories together? I remember how much you loved sleeping in my king sized bed,” Gojo looked back at you, offering one of his large, slender hands. 

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was your stupid, stupid heart, but you reached out and took his hand, “Fuck it, let’s go”. 

Gojo’s house on the outskirts of the Tokyo campus was just as you remembered — sleek black interior with modern furniture and extravagantly silky sheets on his bed — his same bed that you were currently sprawled out on, laying in nothing but your undergarments. 

Gojo joined you a couple minutes later, his bare skin warm and familiar against yours. He pressed a few sloppy kisses to your lips, both of you still incredibly tipsy and unable to stop the small giggles from leaking out between your lips while you kissed. 

“Take the blind fold off you weirdo,” You pulled at the back of the black fabric. 

“Mmm, okay,” He mumbled, undoing the knot and exposing his piercing blue eyes.

“So pretty,” You murmured under your breath — his eyes really were the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen in your life

His fluffy silver hair fell down messily over his face, a drunken smile stretched across his lips. His smile quickly turned into a devilish grin as he slipped the mask over your eyes instead, tying a tight not at the back of your head.

“This isn’t what I meant,” You droned, but you didn’t argue — you certainly weren’t opposed to being blindfolded.

“It looks good on you,” He slurred, his words messy and his lips even messier as he pressed them back against yours. 

The kisses seemed to last forever, and both of you were perfectly okay with that — your hands taking their time exploring each other’s bodies for the first time in far too long. 

Gojo’s hands worked their way up your back, tracing lines along your toned muscles until he finally reached the nape of your neck. His fingers entangled themselves in your hair, soft hums coming from his lips.

“I still have handcuffs, if you’re still into that sort of thing,” he mused, massaging his fingertips into your scalp. 

“Damn, I can’t believe you remember what I like. I thought my preferences would have gotten lost among the sea of other women you were pleasing,” You let the snarky remark roll off your tongue, though there was clearly no real spite in your words — you’re both adults and what happened then was in the past now.

“It wasn’t even that many,” He defended, “And you were the only one who ever mattered”. 

“I’m flattered,” You laughed, “Now, where are those handcuffs?” 

Gojo stifled a deep laugh, his hands leaving your hair as he lifted himself up and stood from the bed. When he returned a few moments later, there was cool metal wrapping around both of your wrists. He had two sets of handcuffs, putting one on each wrist and then hooking the other side to the bed posts. 

You were entirely at his disposal now, your hands secured over your head and your vision blocked off by the black mask. 

“I could tickle you right now and there’s nothing you could do,” Gojo observed aloud, pressing kisses up the side of your torso.

“Satoru, I would kick the living shit out of you,” You threaten, goosebumps growing under your skin. 

“Yeah, but you can’t touch me unless I let you,” He retaliated, his soft hands reaching underneath your bra to feel your breasts.

You groaned in response — his Limitless really did make him impossible.

He cupped each of his hands around your firm lumps, gently massaging them between his fingers. His cool fingertips then made their way down to your lower body, swiftly removing your remaining underwear. You were now completely exposed to him, chills running down your spine as you wondered what he would do next. 

You heard a shaky breath leave his lips, his hungry hands massaging circles into your thighs, “God, you’re so beautiful. I missed you so much, you know that?” 

“I’m sure you did,” You breathed, “I’m a wonderful person to be around”. 

Gojo let out a hearty laugh, and you heard what you assumed to be the sound of his own underwear getting thrown to the floor. A few seconds later he was straddling your torso, his warm thighs wrapped around your body. You couldn’t see it, but you knew his massive member had to be right in front of your face now. 

“Remind me what that pretty mouth can do,” He cooed, pressing the tip of his length gently to your lips. 

You graciously granted him access, parting your lips and taking the head of his cock into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the sensitive tip, earning a few twitches from Gojo’s body. You began to bob your head back and forth as much as the handcuffs allowed, a few quiet moans leaving his throat in response. 

He began to move his hips against you, gingerly pushing his member deeper and deeper into your mouth until you were taking the full length down your throat. He groaned and let a few curse words slide from between his teeth — your mouth was wrapped so perfectly around him. Tears pricked at your eyes and a couple rough gags ripped through your throat, Gojo finally pulling away and allowing you to catch your breath. 

After that, you felt a single one of his long, slim fingers slide into your mouth, and you wasted no time wrapping it in your tongue and sucking hard. 

“Good girl,” He murmured, plucking his finger back out of your mouth and moving it down to your aching entrance. 

Between the saliva on his finger and the slick juices around your opening — his finger slid in effortlessly. He started moving in quick movements, curling his finger up into your g-spot each time. A few light moans left your lips, your fists clenching in the cuffs as your yearned for more. His finger felt good, but you wanted the real thing — you needed it.

“Satoru, please,” You practically whined his name, a tiny bit ashamed for how desperate you were for him right now. 

“Patience, love,” He clicked his tongue and your heart did somersaults at the endearing name. 

He removed his singular finger and intertwined it with a second one before sliding them back into your cavern. He picked up a steady pace again, your breath hitching in your throat. Two fingers was certainly better than one, but the continuous teasing was just making you even more desperate to feel his member inside of you. You mumbled his name over and over, small pleads and shameless whispers leaving your mouth as you bucked your hips against his hands.

“No ones fucked you as good as I used to, have they? You’re horribly desperate right now” He clicked his tongue again, removing his fingers and moving them up to your clit. He rubbed the smallest, softest circles against the small nub, your core growing warmer with desire. 

“I won’t make you wait any longer then,” He whispered, sitting back and positioning the head of his length against your throbbing cunt. 

“Please,” You mumbled fervently, any ego or pride that you once had was completely down the drain now. 

Your pleads were finally rewarded, Gojo pressing himself deep into your tight walls. The immediate feeling was complete bliss, your head rolling back in pleasure as you heard a throaty moan creep it’s way out of Gojo’s mouth. His moans were so pretty — god, you’d missed the sound of them.  

He moved in and out at a tantalizingly slow pace at first, your hips bucking and wiggling as you made fervent attempts to make him go faster.

“So eager…” He shook his head, continuing to move at a pace that was absolutely agonizing — you thought you might die if he didn’t rail the hell out of you soon. 

“Please, fuck,” You gasped, “Stop moving so goddamn slowly”. 

“Your whines are so pretty, baby. Say my name and maybe I’ll give you what you want,” He murmured, his voice low and husky. 

“Fucking hell,” You gritted your teeth, “Please Satoru, please fuck me already”. 

“Shit,” He mumbled under his breath, your words sending electricity coursing through his body. 

After hearing you say that, he was quick to give you what you wanted, picking up his pace and wrapping his hands firmly around your hips. Strangled combinations of moans, whimpers, and cries filled the air as they flew from your mouth. You didn’t care how loud or desperate you sounded, you wanted him to know how good he was making you feel. 

The two of you were an entangled mess of sweaty skin and throaty moans, Gojo filling your ears with praises and compliments the entire time. His lengthy member railed into you over and over, hitting that perfect pleasure point with each stroke and sending warm surges of ecstasy through your veins. 

Your bodies moved together in sync, your breaths aligning and your climaxes threatening to arrive simultaneously. After a few more firm strokes, you felt yourself drowning in pleasure — euphoria crashing through your body like waves. Gojo reached his end point just a few moments later, his loud cuss words and strangled moans filling your ears. 

The two of you rode out your orgasms together, and almost immediately afterwards Gojo collapsed next to you. He lazily reached up and uncuffed each of your hands, leaving the cuffs dangling from his bed posts just in case there was a round two in his future. He rolled the sticky condom off his member and tossed into a nearby trash bin, a relaxed sigh slipping between his parted lips. You peeled the black mask off of your eyes, finally able to meet his again. 

He was staring at you with eyes filled with all kinds of emotions — the emotions that he’d been too afraid to admit to the first time the two of you were together. But he wasn’t afraid of commitment anymore, he was absolutely certain about what he wanted, and it was you. 

“Stay with me,” He asked, his eyes pleading with you, “I’m ready this time, I promise. I’m all yours, if you’ll have me”. 

You found a small smile tugging at the edges of your lips as you looked deeper into his eyes, “Of course I’ll stay, as long as you still feel this way when you wake up sober tomorrow”. 

“I’ll feel this way forever,” He pressed his head into you and mumbled into your chest, “And I’ll remind you as many times as you need to hear it”. 

You wrapped your arms around him in response, the two of you fitting impeccably together. He placed a few gentle kisses to your skin before his breathes began to slow. You found your own breathing to be evening out, your cloudy thoughts pushing you closer and closer to sleep. The two of you slowly drifted off together, your heavy breaths falling perfectly in sync.

[whumperooni]

Mr.Natsuo being your teacher and you purposely flirt with other boys as wear really short skirts in his class to make him ✨jealous ✨and horny , he asks to see you after class and you get fucked on his table 🥺🥺 Sorry I’m on my period and I’m going feral 😃

No, no- never apologize for this! It makes me feral too ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡ Natsuo Sensei, please come get this pussy ♡

tags/warnings: teacher/student relationship, teacher kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, manipulation, improvised gags

A/N: I wrote Natsuo a bit more rough than I normally do, but I think it turned out okay;;; I also abused the words professor, doctor, sensei, and teacher;;;;

But. Ya know.

Enjoy! ♡

You were fucked the moment you walked into his classroom. Introduction to Human Anatomy and Physiology. 2:30 pm, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Led by Doctor Natsuo Todoroki. An insert into your schedule that seemed harmless enough. Interesting, surely. Something you were a little worried about- what if you turned out squeamish despite your love for all things horror and gore?- and something that would just fill your first semester of college. Harmless. Routine for your major. Nothing to give you any sort of fuss or throw you into a flustered little mess. Or, so you thought. Honestly, you hadn’t given much thought to what your professor might be like. You were more worried over having to share a dorm room with a stranger, if you could handle your class load, how hard it might be to adjust being away from home and all you’ve ever known. You suppose your mind’s eye might have conjured a vague image of a wrinkled and wizened old man with a stern gaze and whitened hair. You suppose you might have faintly imagined Doctor Todoroki to be a tired geezer in a lab coat and faded sweater vest. You suppose you might have had the predetermined, unconscious notion that your professor would be intelligent, elderly, stern and, well, someone who you would only think about in terms of being someone to give you tests and homework and lectures. You didn’t think that you would walk into the room to find a smiling, young man with a handsome face and thick thighs, big arms. You didn’t think that you would walk into the room to lock eyes with your professor and immediately go weak in the knees under a stormy gaze and a sunshine smile. You didn’t think that you would walk into the room to only have your breath snatched away, your cheeks flared with a flush, your heart forced into a thundering staccato.  You didn’t think that Doctor Todoroki would be hot. But, oh god- oh god- he’s gorgeous. Doctor Todoroki- well, Doctor Natsuo or even professor; he seems to prefer those much more than his family name- is, honestly, a living, breathing wet dream. He’s hot. He’s kind. He’s friendly. He’s funny. He’s perfect. The class that you thought would be only mildly interesting turns out to be your favorite. How could it not be when you’re blessed with a full hour of delicious eye candy, a teacher that’s so generous with his praise and has your spine tingling whenever he says your name? He’s so friendly and he’s so polite, too. The way he calls you Miss is a little old fashioned, sure, but it sends your mind reeling and your cheeks flushing- quick fantasies zipping through your thoughts as your thighs involuntarily push together. Your crush springs up from the moment you see him and it only gets stronger with each passing day. Little accidental brushes against you, the smiles he sends your way, the scent of his cologne whenever he leans over your table to correct an answer, the way his praise rings in your ears late at night- it all sends you spiraling. You’ve never had a crush quite like this before. Certainly not on a teacher. You want him, though. Oh, god, do you want him. Your roommate is the unfortunate one that has to hear you whine and moan over him- you’re much too embarrassed to admit your crush to your friends back home or any of your family; they’d be sure to scold you, to call you foolish and chide that you’re a silly little girl. She understands it, at least. That helps, keeps you from being too ashamed. “I mean, it’s no surprise you’ve got a thing for him,” she muses. “He’s young. He’s hot. Anyone would get a little crush.” You don’t like that thought, really. You don’t want to think about others lusting after your sensei. “Why not try shooting your shot?” At your scandalized look, she huffs and shrugs, rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on,” she scoffs. “No need to be such a good girl. Professors hook up with their students all the time. You just gotta be discreet.” “I can’t,” you protest- shaking your head and pulling your knees up to your chest. “And it’s not like he- he doesn’t see me in that kind of way.” “You don’t know that,” she counters with a click of her tongue. Another huff leaves her and it’s easy to see that her patience with the situation is waning. “Either feel it out or get over it or find someone else to moon over. There’s no point in moping and stewing.” You’re not moping. You’re just- you’re just- Okay, you’re mooning over him like she said. But you’re not moping. It’s just- it’s such a new situation for you. You’ve always had crushes on your peers- never anyone older than you by more than a year or two, never anyone in a position of authority over you. A taboo situation like this has never been your cup of tea- you’ve always been a good, sensible girl. Crushes on teachers have never been something you thought to entertain. But now? Well, now... You bite your lip and eye your reflection, nervously touch up your makeup in the bathroom mirror. It’s light and simple but pretty and sweet. Stalking Professor Natsuo’s social medias helped you gain the insight that he seems to prefer his women more natural and cute, innocent looking- all glossy lips and doe eyed, fluttering lashes with just the barest hint of mascara and blush. The false lashes might be a bit too much, but they make you look even more doll like and, that too, is something he seems to like. Pretty. Simple. Doll like. Sweet. Young. You think you’ve managed to put that look together rather nicely. The pleated skirt- just shy of rising above your knees- and the soft cardigan help, too, and, really, you don’t think you’ve ever looked quite so innocent before- even when you were a wide eyed, straight A, pure and untouched student back in high school. ...god, what are you doing? A groan leaves you and you nearly scrub the makeup from your face, nearly rip off the skirt and switch it out for the leggings you have stuffed inside your backpack. Nearly. You don’t think that this is really going to work. You don’t think that this is really going to draw any sort of reaction from him. And, well, maybe that’s what you need? Maybe you need to truly see that it’s a fruitless desire- maybe then it’ll shrivel up and away and you’ll be free from your sinful fantasies, free from the desire that has your head spinning. And, well, it’s been a while since you’ve dressed up a little, too- the rigors of college have had you leaning more toward comfort than style, have kept you too tired and busy to give time to makeup and skirts and a polished appearance. It feels kind of nice being all cute and attractive instead of frumpy and disheveled. ...you’re not going to change. You deserve to feel nice and you’re dying- desperate- to see how your professor will react to you looking nicer than the tired lump you usually display. Just act normal, you tell yourself as you head toward the class- clutching your textbooks tight to your chest. Don’t be too hopeful. Don’t be too excited. Don’t get disappointed. Just- just think of it as an experiment. That’s all it is, right? Just an experiment! You’re just putting a hypothesis to a test! (What a load of crap. It does help to calm your fluttering, nervous heart, though) You swallow as you approach the room and take a deep breath to steady yourself, bite your lip as you eye the open door. You can hear him rustling around and you know that the others will be around soon- you can’t just keep standing there like a dumbstruck, coltish fool. Another swallow, another deep breath. You walk into the room and fix a nervous smile on your face, chirp out a nearly stuttered “Good afternoon, Professor.” He’s faced away from you- broad back greeting your vision as he scrawls something across the blackboard. His head turns, though, and you get to hear an absent “good afternoon” replied back, you get to watch his gaze fall on you. His hand pauses. His snowy lashes blink once, twice, three times. Surprise flickers over his face- evident enough that you can catch it without doubt. His eyes flick down and back up so quickly that you almost miss it, dart away whenever your smile shrugs off its nervousness and grows ever so sweetly. You sit yourself down front and center- right in front of your sensei’s desk. He doesn’t look back at you as you organize your books and gear. He doesn’t look back at you as you primly cross your ankles and rest them to the side, drag a curious, studious gaze along his back. You had hoped for a response, but you hadn’t really expected it- Professor Natsuo has been kinder and more friendly and open than your other teachers, yes, but he’s still been professional. He’s never crossed any boundaries and you’ve never see him give another student the once over. This is...promising. Your cheeks stay flushed as the other students file in, but your anxiousness is gone away. Sure, that little look doesn’t really mean anything but now you’re...well. Now you’re curious. Desperate and needy for some validation of your silly little fantasies, but curious too. Could you...would he...? You wet your lips, unthinking, and keep your eyes on Doctor Natsuo throughout the class- analyzing his behavior, absorbing his words, taking in how his gaze finds you a bit more often than it usually does. Interesting. Encouraging. The next day you wear a skirt that’s a little bit shorter, don sweet mary janes and ankle socks decorated in lacy frills. Steel grey eyes dart to your legs more than once during the class and you even catch your professor tracing his eyes over your hips when he thinks you’re not looking- his reflection in the shining convex mirror hanging above your dissection table showing guilt, an almost nervous tilt to his lips. Oh, you’ve got him. But how do you proceed...? Your worries and frets and protests over taboo desires are long gone- they got dashed away with the first blink of his long lashes, with the first glance over he had given you. Really, you should feel ashamed over discarding your morals so easily, but it’s an exciting situation, isn’t it? It’s nothing you would ever think to find yourself in. But college is all about new, exciting situations, right? It’s about taking chances. God, you hope this is really a chance for you- you’ve never had the opportunity to play a coy game like this before. It’s...fun. High school would have been a lot more interesting if you had known this kind of thrill. You come home smiling ear to ear after a successful attempt at making Doctor Natsuo blush. (A sway of your hips, a flit of your slowly shortening skirts, a coo of his name as you thanked him for such an interesting lesson, a sweet smile and your fingers daring to skim ever so lightly and quickly over his wrist as you walked out of the classroom) The smile on your face has your roommate’s brow quirking, but one look at your outfit has her lips pulling into a smirk- something near gloating on her face. “You shooting your shot?” she asks, already knowing the answer. “Something like that.” You plop down on your bed, smile waning but still present- content as you let yourself get comfortable. She doesn’t offer any more conversation and you’re okay with that- mind fixating instead on how you could possibly further things with your sought after teacher. Things are good, for now- much better than you had ever thought they would be. The little forays into flirtation have been fun, exciting and they’ve even helped boost your confidence- something you hadn’t realized was sorely needed. It’s been fun. And it stays fun- the short skirts, the girly lilt you find yourself injecting into your voice, the soft makeup and sweet perfume, the way you always leave the class with wet panties and a vibrating exciting buzzing through you, the way your teacher’s eyes can’t help but dart over you, the way he breathes in just a bit deep when you get a little too close, the way he swallows whenever you so lightly purr his name- it all stays fun. Fun, but...frustrating. After a while it gets frustrating. Because he doesn’t do anything, not really. He stays a proper, good teacher- something you give props to him for- and he never returns your gentle flirtations, the subtle and silent invitations you push his way. He’s so...professional. It’s kind of a turn on- kind of. It’s mostly just...frustrating. You find your lips dipping into a pout more and more, find yourself sulky and downtrodden. Sure, this has been fun and interesting but you...you want more. You want him. You need him. You’ve needed him for so long it seems. You find your muffled ministrations in the shower getting more and more frantic- your fingers pumping into your cunt relentlessly but giving you none of the relief you seek. When you are able to cum, it’s always with a whimper of sensei or doctor or professor- sometimes even a daring Natsuo. You get restless and impatient, desperate and a little hopeless. If your teacher senses or sees that, he doesn’t say anything- in fact, his gaze seems to avert from the feverish look in your eyes, he seems to pull away from your bold, reckless attempts to get closer to him.  That hurts. That makes you angry. That makes you feel stupid. But he still wants you- or, at least, he still finds you tempting. You know he does- he can’t hide the way his eyes fall on you whenever you walk into the room, he can’t hide the quick glances he lays over you when he thinks no one else can see. You see his hesitance and want. You see it. ...if he’s not going to act on his desires, if he’s going to resist, then you’re going to kick things up a notch- someone has to; you can’t live with this stalemate any longer. It’s not a punishment, not really- it’s just throwing in his face what he’s missing out on. (My, whenever did you become so reckless and cruel? When did you become so desperate?) The ratio of boys to girls in the class is quite staggering- something one would think the university wouldn’t allow for fear of lawsuits. There are three boys for each girl- ambitious, studious, virginal, frantically horny things with expectations piled high on their shoulders and stress wracking their every thoughts. (It wouldn’t be unfair to say they you’re just like them- just sans the virginal part, double the stressed and horny part to make up for it) They’re good boys, for the most part- friendly and tired, nice but none of them quite to your taste or striking enough to jar your fixation from your sensei. Some of them are even handsome- which makes this a lot easier. “Oh, you brought me coffee? Thank you so much, Dai-chan! You’re so sweet!” The kiss you lay upon your classmate’s cheek makes him blush and fluster. It also makes your dear teacher stare- eyes wide and brow furrowed when you flick your gaze his way, his lips twitching as if he’s not sure if he wants to frown or not. The soft giggle you let out does bring a frown- something that deepens whenever one of the other boys comes over to grab your attention, try his hand. You should have thought of using them earlier on- they’ve been eager enough to try to flirt this whole time. Doctor Natsuo, for his part, doesn’t say or do anything- of course he doesn’t. But his usually happy temperament turns a bit tense, a little sour. He doesn’t lash out, not really, but you can see the way his teeth grit and his brow puckers whenever one of the boys dares to lay their hand on your arm, the small of your back. Good, you think- vicious and bitter, sour yourself. Get jealous. “What the fuck is up with Todoroki lately?” “Dude, did you hear how he snapped at Araka?” “Do you think something happened? He seems...stressed.” Your classmates trade hushed whispers as they flee the room, but you don’t think to join them- you stay quiet and soak in their quiet gossip, smile sharply without a look back to your grimacing, frustrated sensei. Just a little more. At this point, you’re not even sure what you want from him- an admittance of his own desires, him hurting and annoyed? You don’t know. You just want something to happen- you need something to break this little silent game apart. You think and think and think over what could raise the situation to the breaking point and, finally, you settle on something simple. The night before your Thursday class, you invite over one of your classmates- Eita; one of the more attractive ones, one of the less nervous ones. Your roommate is gracious enough to stay away (thanks to your offer of money for booze and weed and help with her homework) and you have the room all to yourself. Three beers and some easy flirtations, just a few small touches- that’s all it takes to get what you’re after. You don’t let him fuck you- he’s not worth it, nowhere near what you want- but you let him fumble his hands over you, are kind enough to wrap your hand around his cock while his lips frantically roam and suck over your neck. You don’t let him come until you’re absolutely sure that you have what you want. It reduces him to a whining mess- which, hey, is honestly kind of cute. You rebuff his sweet offers to “return the favor” and send him off with a kiss to the cheek, spend the rest of your night nursing a glass of wine and silently brooding- mind tired and body exhausted, your desires so restless. The next day you dress in a pleated, short skirt that just barely skims the middle of your thighs and fix your hair into a cute little updo, don your now signature mary janes and pull on a brand new pair of knee high socks. The sly comments you get throughout the day are annoying, but easily ignored. You’re impatient through the morning and it only gets worse as Doctor Natsuo’s class creeps closer. You spend the day jittering your leg and biting your lip, checking your phone every few moments and huffing to yourself, clutching at your arms and trying not to pace up and down the school’s halls. Finally- finally- it’s time for your favorite class. You have to force yourself to walk slowly toward it. You have to breathe in deep to quiet your pounding heart, to still your trembling hands. This has to spur something on. You walk into the classroom- skirt swaying, lips hiding your anticipation behind a smile. You ignore Professor Natsuo and make your way to Eita’s desk, plant your elbows on it and rest your chin in your hand, arch your hips up so your teacher can be teased by the sight of your soft thighs and curves, taunted by how just an inch or two of fabric prevents your panties from being flashed. (Is he looking? He has to be looking. He better be looking.) “Eita-kun,” you coo, sweet and loud enough for others to hear, “I had such a good time last night. We should do it again.” Eita’s eyes widen and his cheeks flush. You might enjoy it if you weren’t so distracted by the noise of a coffee cup slamming down and clattering on the desk behind you, if your breathing didn’t hitch so sharply at the fault in your sensei’s composure. Slowly, you straighten yourself to standing and turn around. Professor Natsuo’s face is red and flustered- jealous- when you look and his eyes are narrowed at you, his coffee spilled on the desk. You offer him a sweet blink and a sweeter smile, tilt your head so he can see the blossomed bruise tinting your throat pewter and mauve, a stormy and swirling blue. His eyes widen, his gaze darts behind you. Your smile grows. How do you like that, sensei? Your hands tremble just a little- from nerves, from excitement, from aching anticipation- and you clasp them behind your back to hide them from his gaze, lean forward and peer over his desk. “Are you okay, sir?” you ask him- chirping and so very sweet. “Do you need help cleaning that up?” He stares at you- disbelieving and still so evident in his shock, his envy. Some strangled noise chokes its way up and out of his throat whenever you flutter your lashes his way and smug amusement gathers in you as you watch his jaw tighten, his teeth grit as he tries to gather his composure once more. “No. Sit.” Oh. You’ve never heard him sound like that before. So authoritative, so stern. So hot. It’s your turn to let out a noise- something soft and almost curious, accompanied by flushed cheeks. You obey your teacher and sit down without a fuss- thighs pressing together and already growing damp, lip bitten and eyes half-shut as you watch him silently clean up the coffee. He doesn’t look at you throughout the whole lesson. He doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t call on you. He doesn’t smile or laugh or joke around. He’s...cold throughout the class- words iced over and posture rigid, his face holding no warmth at all. You gulp as you listen to him lecture and squirm in your seat- nerves starting to gather and grow despite the way you’re still so very wet between your thighs. You had wanted something to happen. You were determined to force anything to happen. But maybe- maybe you miscalculated. Maybe you fucked up. It’s something of a relief when the class ends. Usually, you like to linger for a few moments, like to stay just a bit longer than necessary so you can grab your teacher’s attention with a question or some sort of compliment over the lesson. Today, though? Today you shoot up from your seat without delay, begin to gather all your supplies as quickly as you can. At least...at least until he says your name. It’s firm, just a little icy. You stiffen at the sound and gulp, look back at him with wide eyes and a nervous smile. Before hearing your name part from your teacher’s lips would send you flying high, but right now...right now your skin is tingling with a giddy apprehension, your fingertips are trembling as you search his face for any hint of what’s to come. “I need to have a word with you,” Doctor Natsuo tells you- eyes boring into yours and keeping you frozen where you stand. “I, um,” you try to weakly protest, “I have to get to my next class...” “It won’t take long.” If he catches your wince, he doesn’t react to it. Professor Natsuo simply leans against his desk as the rest of the students file out- arms folded over his chest, sleeves rolled up to display thick forearms. And you? You stay rooted to the spot- heart pounding and eyes still wide, cheeks flushed and thighs damp. When the last student leaves, Professor Natsuo walks over to the door and closes it shut. Click. W-Wait- did he just- “D-Doctor Natsuo?” you squeak out. “What are you- what are you doing?” “I think I should be asking that question.” Oh, shit. Your teacher turns around slowly and the look he gives you takes your breath away. He looks angry and frustrated. He looks pissed. Pissed, but there’s- there’s something more- there’s- “What-” He takes a step toward you, you take a step back. “- do you think you’re doing, young lady?” The whimper that leaves you is equal parts anxious and needy- soft and unwanted. You probably shouldn’t find the growl in his words so hot. Your knees probably shouldn’t knock together and your pussy shouldn’t throb at the snap of young lady. But it’s- you didn’t expect him to be like this. But you- it’s- A tremble wracks through you and Professor Natsuo takes another step toward you. You bump against his desk whenever you stumble back and flinch at the wood that slams into your lower back, gasp and whimper once more when big hands fall to the table on both your sides, when your teacher brackets your trembling form and keeps you enclosed and captive. His eyes are narrowed. His cheeks are flushed. His cologne smells so nice up close, his height has your lashes fluttering and your breathing shuddering as you’re forced to tilt your head back to look up at him with wide eyes. “S- Sir?” “Don’t sir me,” he snaps, crowding closer to you. “I’ve lost my patience with you playing coy.” He’s lost his patience? Your mouth opens to shoot off something probably very stupid, but the words die as a big, cool hand finds your throat and forces your head to a tilt. The touch is beyond expected, has you crying out softly and gripping onto his shirt, almost hyperventilating. The pin prick retraction of your pupils is dramatic and so is your whimpering exhales but, god, this is not what you had expected. “You’ve been toying with me for weeks now,” Doctor Natsuo growls out, his fingers digging into the hickey on your neck. “All your short skirts and little touches, your shameless flirtations- you’ve been trying to drive me mad, haven’t you?” “Pr- Professor,” you whimper out, thighs rubbing together and a moan threatening to sound. “I just- I just wanted-” “You just wanted some attention,” he huffs out- his other hand gripping at your waist and his knee knocking your legs apart. “You wanted to see what would break me, right? That’s why you came in flaunting this today.” Your teacher’s thigh slots between yours and his fingers push deeper into your bruised flesh, his stormy eyes narrow and take in the way you shudder, how your cheeks flush even darker and your eyes start to turn just a bit glossy. A mewl leaves you- embarrassing and so needy, so helpless- and you whine softly after, try to turn your head away so he can’t see the way all your bravado and confidence is melting away into your selfish, needy, hopeless desires. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he demands- forcing your face back to him. He doesn’t look angry now- just frustrated- and your stuttered little gasp only makes his teeth grit, the way your thighs squeeze his makes his breath in sharp and deep. “Go on- tell me.” You- you can’t. You can’t deny him, can’t lie. Not now that things have finally boiled over, not now that he’s finally confronting you. Not now that you’re about to come just from the feeling of his thigh pressing against your soaked cunt. Not now that you’re so close to moaning and falling into a pleading, begging thing. “I- I had to,” you whine. “You weren’t- you wouldn’t-” “Tch.” The grip on your neck tightens and leaves you whimpering, leaves your fingers curling even tighter into your teacher’s shirt. “I was trying to be a good teacher,” Professor Natsuo grits out. “I was trying to keep from taking advantage of you.” Take advantage of you? You would laugh if it weren’t for your wettening lashes, the way your hips are aching and tightening from trying not to grind over your sensei’s thigh. “Sensei-” “Did you fuck him?” he interrupts- fingers dragging over your hickey and hand gripping your hip tighter, pulling you closer and making you whimper, tremble as your cunt is made to glide over his leg. “Don’t tell me after all this time you settled for a boy like that?” You shake your head the best you can- almost frantic with it, flushed and vaguely angry he would even insinuate that you would hook up with someone after you’ve put in so much effort toward him. “N- No! I wanted- I didn’t want- didn’t want him,” you whine, hips jerking despite yourself, a mewl leaving you whenever your teacher’s breath catches. “Sensei, please-” “Fuck.” The groan that leaves him has your lashes fluttering, your lips parting with a soft whine. The hand on your neck moves to your scalp and buries thick fingers in your hair, messes up your updo and sends your hairtie flying. He ignores the protesting noise that leaves you and looks down at you instead- eyes dark with a need that mirrors your own, nostrils flaring as his breathing turns heavy. “You are so naughty,” Doctor Natsuo growls- one hand curling his fingers into your hair, the other smoothing down your waist and to your spread legs. “Filthy little thing.” Filthy? You’re not- you’re not- The hand at your waist moves to loosen his tie and you whimper when he pops open his top button, when he shifts his hips forward and you feel his cock hard on your thigh. “Pl- please, sensei,” you breathe out in a beg- unplanned and so thoughtless, even overwhelmed. “I- I’ll be good! I won’t tell! I just want- I need-” You cut yourself off with a whine and rock against his thigh, look up at him with your wet lashes and flushed cheeks. He groans whenever you whimper and you clutch at him tighter, try to press against him. “I need you, sensei,” you plead- so soft and so desperate. “I need you. I- I promise I’ll be good. I just- I just-” You whimper once more and he groans, grips your waist and sits you on the table rough enough to make all his pens rattle and shake. He slots himself between your spread legs and buries his fingers back into your hair, presses his mouth against yours so fast and hard that it makes your whole world screech to a screaming halt. Your eyes widen and then slam shut, your body goes limp as you whimper and tremble from the way his tongue traces over your bottom lip. You allow your mouth to open and your teacher groans over it, slips his tongue inside and forces you to bend back as he presses closer toward you. Whenever he pulls his head back from yours, there’s a glistening of spit on his lips, a flush to his cheeks. You squirm under his gaze- suddenly so shy, suddenly so flustered- and whine as he stares down at you, arch your back and gasp whenever he forces your head to the side once more and presses his lips to your throat. It hurts when his teeth dig into the already tender, bruised flesh but it sends your mind reeling, has you mewling and reaching to scratch at his back. “Y- Yes! Please! Cover it! Make that mark yours!” The words fly out fast and without any thought, the begging comes from a place you didn’t realize existed within you. You don’t even realize that you mewled such a thing out until your teacher is groaning against your neck, until he’s muttering a, “Fuck- that’s a good girl” right against your throat. If you weren’t so swept up in the situation, you might feel embarrassed. But, you’re not- you’re just gasping and flushed and made even more needy from the praise, from the way your sensei’s hands drag down your sides to grip your waist. Tears blur your vision and a stuttered breath has you shaking, your nails digging deep into soft fabric and clawing over a broad back. “Doctor Natsuo please!” Another groan from your teacher and his hand slips under your skirt, his fingers push your soaked panties to the side and dip into your sopping cunt. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he growls, curling two thick digits and making you cry out. “Hey- shh, shh. Be good. You promised you were going to be good.” Be good? Oh, fuck, you wanna be good. You bite your lip as your teacher fucks his fingers deep inside you and try so, so, so hard to stay nice and quiet and good. He watches you as you try to muffle your whimper behind your hand and you shake from the way he licks his lips, from the way his lashes lower and his gaze turns approving. “That’s it, baby,” he mumbles. “Good girl. Fuck- turn over.” Professor Natsuo backs away and you can’t quite bite back your whine whenever his fingers leave, can’t quite inject any gracefulness in the way you scramble to comply. He yanks you back whenever you’re on your stomach- has your knees knocking against his desk and your hips arching up. There’s no warning when he grabs the plush flesh of your ass and spreads your cheeks wide. Your face flushes and a soft noise leaves you, your thighs press together as you squirm and whimper. “Cute,” he murmurs, squeezing your butt roughly.  “Even better than I imagined.” Imagined? Oh- oh. He- he thought of you. He fantasized about you. Sensei- sensei got off to you. Your cunny clenches and your teacher groans- low and deep and accompanied by the sound of a zipper being pulled down. When you look back over your shoulder at him, his fingers are undoing his tie and you’re left blinking in confusion as he wraps each end around his palms. “Professor...?” “Open your mouth.” You do so without hesitation- lips falling open and fingers curling against the wood of the desk. Professor Natsuo slips his tie between your lips and you whine as it digs into your cheeks, shudder whenever he gives it a tight tug. “Now be a good student for your sensei,” he instructs, gathering the tie in one hand and pulling out his cock with the other. “Quiet and good.” You nod the best you can, but it’s a promise you can’t quite keep whenever his cock nestles between your cunt’s lips, whenever the tip eases into your hole and then slams fully in. You cry out- spit wetting your teacher’s silk tie and his hand laying heavy across your ass, your head getting yanked back whenever he jerks on the tie. “What did I say?” He said- he said to be quiet and good. You have to be quiet and good. A muffled whimper leaves you and you rock your hips back, squeeze around your sensei’s cock with the softest little whine. He groans and his hips pap against you, his dick drives in deep enough to have your toes curling and your lashes fluttering. He’s- he’s big. Bigger than you thought he’d be. Bigger than you dared to imagine. The stretch is- it’s so much. But you’re so wet. You’re so needy. Tiny, strangled whimpers leave you as your professor falls into a rhythm and you shudder, do your best to fuck your hips back against him. That stops whenever he grips your waist with a grunt and you whine softly, still and let your teacher fuck you how he pleases. You take it and you love it, get pushed close to orgasm faster than ever before. You almost collapse when you come on his cock and you hiccup out a whine of pleasure, a muffled mewl of his name. Doctor Natsuo groans as your gummy insides spasm around him and his grip becomes bruising, his rocks get faster- harder. Feels so good! Feels so good! Sensei’s dick feels so good! “Shen- shensay!” “Oh, fuck- god- you’re so tight, baby. Good girl- you like sensei’s cock deep inside you? Is this what you wanted?” You whimper and nod- cheek scrubbing against the desk, cunt gripping his cock like a vice. He grunts and grabs onto your hips, forces your head up and back as the tie drags you and forces your back to arch in a tight, painful angle. Still feels good, though. Still feels like everything you wanted. You want- need- so much more. “Shoulda done this sooner,” your teacher groans out. “Shoulda- fuck!” He slams in you deep enough to have your eyes rolling back, hard enough to have your whole body shaking and your nails clawing across his desk. “C’mon, c’mon- take it- take it! Sensei is- Sensei is gonna fill you up- gonna give that needy cunt what it needs!” He’s gonna- he’s gonna- oh, god! Doctor Natsuo fucks into you faster and faster- the movements jarring you against the desk and making it rock, the jab of his cock rushing you to the height of pleasure again. You cry out as he slams into you- the tie falling from your lips as he drops it and forces you back onto the desk, slides his arms under you and grips your shoulders, fucks into you rough and deep and so, so perfectly. Warmth floods inside your pussy and you whimper as you’re filled with your sensei’s seed, twitch and come on his cock again- lashes fluttering and teeth digging into your lip to muffle your whine, honeyed insides milking his dick as if you need more. You do need more- you do. How could you have ever imagined one time would be enough to satisfy your fantasies? Your teacher pants and grinds into you- hot breath fanning over your cheek and his cock sliding out with a wet pop whenever he draws his hips back. You whimper at the loss but mewl when his fingers draw up your slit, slide back and down onto your knees as exhaustion slips over you. Fuck...fuck, did that just happen? A touch to your cheek has you looking up and you blink hazily at your sensei’s flushed cheeks, the shining and wet cock that he stuffs inside his trousers. “Satisfied?” he asks, slightly breathless and a groan hiding in his voice. “Going to be a good girl now? No more teasing sensei?” You nod, not quite thinking over the action or processing the words, only close your eyes when the slightest smile flits across his lips, when his fingers brush over your cheek and his gaze goes heavy lidded. “Sensei...” His fingers glance over your jawline and down low, stroke over your new hickey and bring a mewl. With your eyes closed, you can’t see the way his expression ripples with something hesitant and something curious, something...greedy. Strong hands help you up from the floor and you shudder as your legs tremble, press against his chest and look up at him with heavy eyes, a yearning that you can’t quite hide. He strokes your hair and it’s...nice. Unexpected from the way he reacted before, so very welcome. “...I was harsh with you.” The apologetic tone is also unexpected. Your professor seems to almost fluster, hesitates as he strokes your hair again and allows his grey gaze to look over your flushed cheeks and parted lips, the desire that you can’t quite hide. “...you were a good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and making you flush even more. “...you gonna keep being good? Not tell?” Of course you’re not going to tell. Of course you’re not going to risk this. You nod without any hesitation and you’re graced with a smile, another kiss that has you wanting to melt against him. “Then in that case...” You blink and watch as he breathes in deep, tilt your head as your heart begins to flutter in your chest. “Come over tonight. I can give you what you want properly.” He wants...he wants you to come over? He wants to fuck you again? You could swear it’s almost a smirk that forms on his face whenever your eyes widen and your breath catches. “I- I...yes, please.” He hums and he steps away- leaving you to stumble slightly and look at him in wonder, an unending adoration that you had pretended wasn’t underneath all your lust for him. “Good. But for now...” Sensei takes a deep breath and then he smiles at you- this time a bit wry, a little amused. “You’re going to be late for your next class.” Next class? Oh- oh shit! A squeak escapes you and you hurry to gather up all your stuff, shove your books in your arms and race toward the door. “Hey.” You freeze as you grab onto the doorknob and nearly tumble into it, look back toward your sensei. “I want you to call me Natsuo when we’re alone.” He- he what? Oh. Oh. You open your mouth, but the trilling of the bell cuts you off and you’re left only with the time to nod and flush, mumble out a soft, “Yes, sir” before you have to rush out the room. You head toward your next class with weak legs and cheeks red from where your sensei’s tie pulled deep into your skin, hair a mess and your teacher’s- Natsuo’s- cum dripping down your thighs. You smile as you rush off to your next class- happy and fucked, eager to see what Natsuo has in store for you later that night.

[ellewords]

atsumu was like the sun. he shined and glowed and warmed people just by being near them. without a single thought, he was able to brighten the mood in ways that no one else could. even on his darker days or when his being felt too harsh, he left an impact that made everyone long for more. you couldn’t always see him, couldn’t always feel his presence, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there somehow, unseen but known.

by association, that sort of made you the moon. you could shine brightly and leave a warm glow and comfort others when they felt like they were in the dark. but all of that wasn’t possible without the sun. without atsumu.

people didn’t know you unless you were by atsumu’s side. they didn’t spare you a glance until atsumu brought attention to you. but you didn’t mind. all you wanted was to have him by your side, to support you when you couldn’t hold yourself up, to be brilliant beside him even if you would never outshine him. you were content in your current situation.

so why did it hurt so much seeing him continue to shine? why did his warmth suddenly feel so cold? why couldn’t you be as bright as him all on your own?

or, atsumu will always be the sun, you always the moon. maybe now it’s time to accept that you’re nothing without him so you can finally shine for yourself.

-💛

—  from elle ! 💛anon you never miss, do you? aaaa this was so good it lived in my head rent free ever since i first read it >_< i just had to write an addition to this for the way you made my heart actually ache. i hope i did your drabble justice :<< this just hit a lil too close to home ngl thank you for reading everyone, i hope you like this! reblogs are appreciated, they help a ton <3

fic notes / warnings : timeskip!miya atsumu x gn!reader, angst, fluff (-ish? kinda) ending, oneshot, wc: ~1.52k (!! my longest margins addition so far omg)

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

atsumu has a gravitational pull, that much has always been clear to you and everyone else; a pull so strong that you can’t help but orbit around him. every room he walks into, he commands the attention of everyone present. one can’t help but simply be drawn to him — with his bright smiles, boisterous laughs, and larger than life movements. it’s no wonder why everything seems to bend to his will, how the universe seems to revolve around him. 

you’ve moved around him for as long as you can remember, every now and then, he lets you borrow his light. the world has associated you with him and you don’t blame anyone one bit. 

his name has always come first. setter for the inarizaki volleyball team, miya atsumu. invited to the all-japan youth intensive training camp, miya atsumu. captain of the inarizaki volleyball team, miya atsumu. setter for division one volleyball team, the msby black jackals, miya atsumu.  

meanwhile, yours is treated as an afterthought, an attachment, a footnote in the awe-inspiring narrative of his life. you’re known as his childhood friend. his best friend, the one who cheers him on from the stands in every single one of his games. alleged significant other, according to whispers in the hallway and to the tabloids and paparazzi. his eventual confirmed significant other, ln yn. 

atsumu and who’s that with him? atsumu and his best friend. atsumu and his significant other. atsumu, oh, and yn’s here too. it’s always atsumu before yn; his name before yours. sometimes, you wonder if anyone would know your name if he hadn’t started dating you.    

you walk behind atsumu, not beside him, when you enter a room. fingertips loosely intertwined with his, you attempt to keep your head up as atsumu introduces you around. they spare you a quick “hi”, before beginning a conversation with your sun. 

though he’s not really your sun, is he? you’ve always had to share him with everyone else. everyone needs a little sunshine in their life, a little warmth; his brilliance is dazzling, like everyone else, you revelled in his glow. 

the world has always associated you with him, but it never worked the other way around. atsumu has always shined on his own; you needed him to have light for yourself. 

~

no one blames the sun for burning a little too bright; it’s simply the way it is. similarly, you’ve never blamed atsumu for being the way he is. he doesn’t know, didn’t mean to do it in the first place. atsumu has always existed for himself, lived life the way he sees fit.

you can’t blame him, no matter how much you wanted to. even if you forced yourself to. 

staring at the sun is fascinating, but do it long enough and it starts to hurt. the warmth is no longer comforting, but harsh and prickly. the light is no longer magical and dazzling, but blinding and terrifying. it took some time, but you eventually convinced yourself to look away. 

“ya sure ya wanna do this?” atsumu asked, immediately recognizing your hesitance. he doesn’t want to break up, he wants you to take your words back, he wants you to tell him that this was all just some sick prank. but right now, it doesn’t matter what he wants. what matters is how you feel, the emotions he didn’t realize you had been feeling. 

“no…” you mumbled. the intensity of his gaze makes your knees buckle, but you stand your ground. even in the chilling darkness of his living room, he radiates light and understanding, making everything all the more difficult. you bite the inside of your cheek, letting a few beats pass before your next words, “but i have to.”

“i believe in you,” atsumu nodded, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his jeans. he lets out a quiet exhale, eyes gazing on the suitcases in your hand, “yer gonna do so many amazin’ things.”

your grip on the bag’s handle tightened. it was the end of an era, one that you didn’t expect would be ending at all. but it had to be done. for the first time since you met atsumu, you finally began to think of yourself. a small smile plays on your lips, hoping that he picks up on the pure gratefulness of your tone, “thank you for lending me your light.”

his reply would play in a loop in your mind. even in a breakup, the darkest the night has ever been, atsumu offers you a little bit of light. as expected from the sun.  

~

the moon goes through several phases. some days are better than others. it’s a wave of several highs and lows, but you grow to understand that’s how things are. on some nights it’s as invisible as they come, the clouds blocking out what little light it already produced. though it glowed on other nights, you often feel like nothing has changed. but you learn to trust the process either way. 

gazing at the moon is calming, not dazzling and exceptional, but calming. it provides peace, serenity. you often gazed at the moon, especially on the nights where you could only toss and turn. a cold breeze would blow past you and send shivers down your spine, painting your bare skin with several goosebumps. leaning on the balcony railing and taking in the sounds of a city that barely slept makes you think of him. 

you miss the sun; you miss your sun. you miss his presence and the warmth he brings you. atsumu checks in every now and then, asking how you’re doing and wondering if you’d ever want to meet for a cup of coffee. you’ve never accepted any of his offers for fear of only getting pulled back in. 

you’ve never realized that you always had a gravitational pull of your own. atsumu spends most of his nights gazing at the moon. when his heart raced and his mind buzzed, the moon brought him tranquility — as did you, his anchor. 

[ miya atsumu ] : the night sky is nice tonight, it makes me think of you. i like that we’re always looking at the same one. 

[ miya atsumu ] : i hope you’re doing okay.

he’s right, the night sky does look nice. the moon is full and shining the brightest you’ve ever seen it shine. gleaming, enchanting, and breathtaking doesn’t seem to do its beauty any justice. perhaps the poets and artists had been right all along, the moon is the perfect muse. your thoughts almost convince you that its light isn’t artificial. but twinkling beside the moon are the stars, shimmering high above the world you know, their light completely their own.   

you’re not okay. being the moon may not be too bad, but you’ve already realized that you want to be amongst the stars as one. 

~

days turn into weeks, and eventually months. sometimes they blend together when nothing of interest or importance happens, though you strive for events that are worth remembering. you’ve found a job that you actually like, one that you truly excelled at. you’ve started to put yourself out there, to meet people that pushed you to be better than you had been the day before. slowly but surely, you began to create your own light.

some days your light faltered, some days are dimmer than others, but it was a light of your own. it’s one that didn’t need another’s glow to exist. soon enough, you find yourself accepting one of atsumu’s many offers for a cup of coffee.

he’s now brighter than ever. setter for division one volleyball team, the msby black jackals, miya atsumu, has turned into setter for japan’s olympic team, miya atsumu. his radiance is as blinding as ever, the largest grin on his face as he waves his hand out the second he caught sight of you.   

but you’re brighter now too, weaving through the cafe tables with your head up high. you’re more sure of yourself, standing taller, making each step towards him with purpose. you’ve lost the tension in your shoulders, the weight that built in your chest. and atsumu notices it too.  

“you’ve changed.” he smiles, much softer than you’re used to. his gaze is fond as you settle in the seat in front of him.  

“i know,” you reply, the corners of your lips twitching upwards, “but thank you for lending me your light.”

atsumu’s smile remains that same soft one that you’re not used to as he recognizes your words almost immediately. he leans back in his seat, gesturing a hand to you, “never gave ya anythin’, this is all you.”

he replies with the same words he said several months ago, the latter half of the sentence being the only addition. warmth fills your chest as he never lost a single ounce of sincerity. the only difference? this time you actually believe him. 

atsumu may still be the sun, but you’ve become a star in your own right; you no longer need him to shine. maybe someday you’ll shine bright enough to allow yourself to exist beside him. but for now, this is enough. 

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

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[cinnaminsvga]

body of mine | Seokjin (M)

→ summary: It’s the night before Seokjin’s birthday and you, his ever-reliable witch slash roommate, have accidentally forgotten to get him a gift. Good thing you know magic then, right? Ten wishes shouldn’t be too hard to handle…

{or alternatively: learning the importance of living a marie kondo lifestyle, but in hindsight}

→ genre: shifter!au, magic!au, humor/crack, smut → warnings: jin is your magical hamster familiar, jin is chaotic (ofc), magical mischief that only zee could come up with, aphrodisiac sex, penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), slightly rough sex, dom!jin if you squint, hair pulling, jin doesn’t wrap up his peepee (pls practice safe sex u guys), dirty talk, breeding kink?? → words: 16.9K → a/n: IDK WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO THE ORIGINAL POST BUT HERE IT IS!! IM SO SORRY BUT HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY @jincherie​ PLEASE IM GOING TO CRY I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS (pls send me your thots i suffered greatly for this fic i’m actually dying appa yip yip)

Whoever told you that keeping a hamster as a familiar was a good idea must have been an idiot.

It’s you – you are the idiot. Every one of your friends had warned you about the little vermin. They had begged you to kick him out the moment you found him taking a hamster-sized dump on your prized foxgloves.

You’d been in the middle of pruning the yallows in your garden when you heard a tiny squeak! to your right. When you pushed the foliage away, you saw a small hamster, cheeks puffed up with its little fists clenched by its sides, as pellet after pellet of tiny shits were pushed out of its tiny ass and onto your plants.

You brought him into your home, already making up your mind that you’d keep him as a pet. You have been feeling a bit lonely these days; surely, a tiny little hamster won’t be too much of a problem to take care of, right? You’re so excited that you even invite your friends over to behold your newfound darling.

“I’m going to kill that tiny bastard,” Yoongi hissed the moment he made eye contact with the hamster, his pupils dilating and fluffy cat ears tensing, ready to attack. You could see his claws begin to extend, so you made sure to place your new friend out of his reach. Lucky for you, Yoongi had the arm span of a toddler.

“Oh, c’mon! He’s so fucking cute though,” you cooed, tickling the hamster’s belly. It squeaked happily, nudging your finger to scratch the underside of its ears. Yoongi hissed at it from behind Namjoon’s back, his fingernails digging painfully into the gentle giant’s shoulders. The bespectacled witch didn’t even seem to bat an eye.

“Y/N, I’m all for keeping magical pets and whatnot, but I have to agree with Yoongi… That hamster has too much bastardous energy,” Namjoon said, wincing when the hamster begins munching on the sleeves of your cloak in earnest. You continued to squeal in delight, positively endeared by the cute little ball of fur in your palms.

Due to your magical abilities, you had sensed that this little hamster had magic in his veins and you guessed that he must have either been a shifter or an intellectually augmented animal. You guessed that he’s the former, much like how Yoongi is a cat shifter as well. Ever since Namjoon had befriended Yoongi and the two became partners, you admit that you’ve always been a little jealous of their natural camaraderie. You had long since yearned for someone who could assist you in your magical apothecary, but more importantly, someone you could share your time with.

You were optimistic; perhaps when the little hamster learned to shift into its human form, then you could truly begin your journey towards friendship. You’re sure that the man behind the hamster must be just as cute and lovely.

Speaking of learning to shift—

“What? You mean me?” Yoongi asked, craning his head over Namjoon’s shoulder, his curiosity getting the better of him but still remaining a safe distance away from you and the hamster. “What about learning to shift?”

“Did you just learn one day? I want to get Mr. Hamster over here to turn into a human so I can speak to him,” you explained, but the cat shifter narrows his eyes distrustfully.

“I don’t want that vermin to gain the ability to speak. I can just tell no one is going to enjoy what he has to say,” he sniffed. He growled lowly, the sound so deep and feral that you are momentarily disarmed by his hostility. Namjoon had to rub the back of his ears for a second, forcing Yoongi to calm down until his growl softened into a purr.

“Well, Yoongi can’t control his shifting abilities quite yet. I have to… forcibly change him, if you will,” Namjoon explained, watching Yoongi with loving eyes as he gently nuzzled his head into the witch’s hand. He beckoned you closer and you took a tentative step forward, keeping the hamster behind your back just to be safe. “Watch,” he said simply, as his hand trails lower and lower until it reached the back of Yoongi’s neck and he–

Poof! Namjoon simply tickled the back of Yoongi’s neck and a puff of purple smoke revealed a munchkin cat in its wake. His soft gray and white fur bristled in surprise, his teeth bared at Namjoon as he meowed in contempt. Namjoon ignored all of this, gently picking up the tiny cat and cradling him in his arms like a baby. Immediately, the shifter relaxed, eyes closing contentedly as he burrowed deeper into Namjoon’s chest.

“Woah,” you said, for lack of better words. You shook your head, gazing at the two in wonder. “I didn’t know Yoongi has a fucking eject button.”

“Yep. I sure hope you don’t abuse this knowledge, by the way,” Namjoon warned, but the mischievous gleam in his eyes told you that he probably wouldn’t mind if you did. Knowing you, there was no question that you’d take any and every opportunity to annoy the cat shifter. “If this hamster is the same, then surely it has a similar tick. Since it’s small too, I’m sure it’ll be easy to find its spot.”

“Speaking of,” you piped up, staring curiously at him. “How… did you find out where Yoongi’s spot was? Didn’t you meet him as a human?”

Namjoon shrugged, but there’s a soft pink tint coloring the tops of his ears. “Umm… Coincidence?”

You squinted at him. “Sure,” you agreed, not wanting to know why he seemed so embarrassed. You turned back to the furry matter at hand, lips pursing as you gazed upon the hamster. Surely, there should be an easy way to figure this out…

You began to roll the small hamster in your hand like a pancake, twisting and pulling the lil guy until it started squeaking in protest. You made sure not to handle it too roughly, so you were a bit surprised at how dramatically the hamster was screaming. “Just another moment, baby…” you murmured. At the sound of the pet name, the hamster paused in its squirming, staring wide-eyed at you with its tiny mouth ridiculously agape. You arched a brow, amused at the aghast expression on its face.

“Well, that settles it. You’re definitely human, by the looks of it,” you commented, poking it lightly on the nose. The hamster scrunched up its face just as a soft pink smoke started to envelop its tiny body. You coughed harshly, your sinuses tickled by the strong scent of caramel and mint. “W-well, I think I found its spot,” you pointed out helplessly, eyes watering as you tried to keep them open.

The hamster’s body was growing ridiculously hot, forcing you to drop it on your kitchen counter. You hissed, sucking on your burned appendages as you wait for the smoke to subside. Beside you, Namjoon had Yoongi held tightly in his arms, his back turned away to keep the smoke away from their faces. “Y/N, get some clothes quickly. He’s going to be cold when he finishes transforming,” was all he said, his free hand covering his nose. “This is probably going to be its first shift in a while!”

You’re still completely flabbergasted, frozen in place. “What?” you replied dumbly, standing stock still as you waited for the smoke to dissipate. As more and more of it cleared, you noticed two pairs of long legs where there originally had been none. You waved your hand a bit, fanning the remaining fumes away from your nose, allowing you to gaze upon a very naked and very tall man sitting primly on your kitchen counter.

You and the man stared each other down, neither of you blinking nor backing down. After a few moments, the man smiled brightly at you, his cheeks bunching up much like how he did in his hamster form. “Hello, human,” he greeted, extending a hand towards you. You took it dazedly, still staring wide-eyed at him. “My name is Seokjin. I suppose this means I’m going to be your familiar from now on.”

Your gaze traveled downwards, your hands still clasped together with his. “You’re naked,” you said plainly.

He followed your gaze. “I suppose I am,” he mused, shrugging his shoulders. He was incredibly wide; it almost made no sense that he was a hamster just a few seconds ago. What did he do, bench press sunflower seeds all day? “I am also incredibly beautiful, but we can continue stating the obvious another day.” He released your hands, clasping them together with a beatific smile. “C’mon, human! Bring me your finest garments because my handsomely sculpted testicles are starting to shrivel up from the cold.”

Behind you, you could hear Yoongi hissing loudly in response.

And from that day forward, your adventures of living with the biggest nuisance in the world had begun.

x x x x x

[December 3, 11:39 PM]

Okay, maybe calling him a nuisance is a bit too mean… He’s not that bad. Although, you are sure that Seokjin would have gladly nipped you in the tit if he ever found out you thought so lowly of him. Which you don’t.

Usually.

Except when he’s being annoying, which is all the time. For example:

“Stop fucking biting, you little furball,” you grouse, flicking the hamster in the stomach. He gasps in response, or at least, you assume he had gasped since hamsters don’t exactly have the same vocal cords that humans do. What you do know, however, is that Seokjin seems particularly adamant to be irritating tonight, despite your numerous threats to snip his tiny hamster balls should he continue to pester you.

Unfortunately, none of your usual intimidation tactics work, thus prompting you to grab the small rodent and squeeze him like a squeaky toy. (And what do you know—he even squeaks like one too!)

“Will you stop bothering me? You know I’m busy.” You squint angrily at him, scowling when Seokjin looks back at you with faux innocence. This lil bitch wouldn’t know innocence if it shoved a finger up his ass! “You’ve been more annoying than usual. You even tried parkouring over my herb bottles even though I’ve told you numerous times that’s off limits!”

You feel only slightly bad for scolding him; after all, you are in the midst of preparing a particularly difficult potion for one of your clients tomorrow. Seokjin knows this, and you even specifically told him not to bother you until you finished for the night. While he often did like to interrupt your work for “life or death situations” such as “cuddling” or “spoon-feeding him some pudding,” he usually leaves you alone to do your work when you’re faced with tougher jobs. Today doesn’t seem to be the case as he nibbles ferociously on your sleeves, desperate for you to listen to whatever nonsense he wants to convey.

Rolling your eyes (albeit you admit you do it out of fondness), you gently take the little hamster into your hands, placing him on your kitchen floor. You make sure the stove for your potion making is turned off before you turn back to him, honking his button nose and waiting for him to shift completely.

Since it’s no longer his first time shifting, it only takes Seokjin a few seconds to transform into his human self, his large frame quickly taking up most of the space of your cramped kitchenette. He accidentally bumps his head into one of your hanging potted plants, causing him to yelp in surprise rather than actual pain. He glares pointedly at your orchids before switching that ire onto you, his normally saccharine brown eyes filled with thinly veiled contempt.

“Took you long enough,” he sniffs, poking you not-too gently in the cheek. He folds his arms, appearing to you like a child throwing a tantrum. “Well?”

You raise a brow, covertly turning on your stove once more to resume your potion-making. “Well what?” you say, stirring your small cauldron from the corner of your eye. Seokjin halts your movements instantly, pulling your arm away and half-dragging you towards your living room.

“H-hey! That potion is really sensitive, so let me go—”

“It’s almost midnight,” is all he says before dumping you unceremoniously on your old sunken couch. You grunt from the impact, but he doesn’t apologize for his gruffness (as he never has). You peer up at him, scowling slightly at his unexpectedly cryptic remark.

“And so? This potion is due for pick-up in two days and I’ll need to steep it for another 24 hours before I can even think to package it–”

Instead of replying, Seokjin takes his phone out of his pocket and thrusts the screen towards you. You look at it in confusion, confronted with the sight of his lock screen without any explanation. “It’s… 11:43?”

He rolls his eyes, though you notice a slight hint of disappointment clouding his expression. “And what about the date?” he pushes, lips pursed thinly into a line.

He’s trying to get you to understand without saying it outright – a habit of his that he’s acquired ever since he started hanging out more with Yoongi. Though the two are hardly considered friends, even Seokjin has to admit that being near the cat has caused him to pick up a thing or two, with his tsundere tendencies being one of the first.

You, on the other hand, are forced to play along with his antics. You know that it is December 3. As you try to rack your head for anything you might have missed, you’re pretty sure you’ve accomplished all your chores for today, save for the current potion brewing for the customer coming in two days. You think back on your day, listing off all the things you had done.

You had met up with Namjoon to pick up more herbs from his shop, you delivered more mana potions to the local apothecary, you passed by the street market to buy more sunflower seeds for Seokjin… What on earth could you be forgetting?

“I sincerely hope you’re joking, you know.” Seokjin interrupts your train of thought, breaking you from your trance. When you look back at him, you find that his annoyance has cleared. Hurt replaces his expression, his bottom lip trembling slightly as he waits for you to realize.

When it appears that you won’t be noticing anytime soon, he heaves a heavy sigh, eyes closing in defeat. His voice cracks when he says, “Fine. It’s fine. Whatever. I’ll just… Go to my room. Don’t worry about breakfast tomorrow because I’m gonna sleep in.” And with that, he swivels away from you, shoulders hunched forward as he quietly makes his way to his quarters.

Left shocked and even more puzzled, your gaze is stuck where he had just been moments ago, anxiety and guilt rising in your chest as you try harder to remember what it is that caused Seokjin to shut you out like that. In your seven months of living together, not once has he ever looked so dejected, as the handsome shifter often liked to push your buttons and tease you whenever you mess up. This is clearly not like the other times, so whatever you forgot must pertain to Seokjin himself.

“Am I missing something? Did I forget to season his dinner again?” Although it is entirely too plausible that you did, you highly doubt Seokjin would be that upset at having a bland meal. So what else could it…?

Just as you’re about to give up and beg Seokjin to tell you what you had forgotten, your phone beeps, a new text from Namjoon arriving just in time. You flick it on, your brain taking a moment to fully grasp the words you were trying to read.

from: joonieboobie to: y/n

hey y/n! are you gonna spend the entire day with seokjin tomorrow? yoongi and i figured that you’d do something special for him on his bday, so tell seokjin that we’ll treat him to a birthday dinner the next day instead. don’t have too much fun, okay? use protection LMAO

Shit.

You gasp suddenly, hand flying to your mouth as horror washes over you. Did Namjoon just say… bday?! Now that he mentions it, you realize that today is December 3rd, which means…

“Tomorrow is December 4th,” you whisper to yourself. You jump out of the couch, scrambling towards your kitchen at a wicked pace. Sweat begins to form at the back of your neck as you run over to your wall calendar, where lo and behold, tomorrow’s date is circled in blood-red ink. Circled by you, even. Holy shit holy shit holy shit–

No wonder Seokjin was so hurt. You’re a terrible, foul, no-good witch! The absolute worst person in the world! How on earth could you forget your own familiar’s birthday?

“Jesus fuck, I’m screwed,” you groan, slumping over your kitchen counter in defeat. You don’t even care that your potion has long since boiled over—not when you’ve already made a bigger mistake just now. God, you’re such a clumsy bitch; what’s the point of being a potion maker who helps cure other people’s maladies if you can’t even fix your shortcomings?

“I can fix this. I can fix this. I can—” You chant this multiple times to yourself as you rush to your nearby bookshelf, pulling out every book you own to find a last-minute gift idea. Surely, there’s something in these books that can help you make it up to Seokjin, right? You’ve made almost every potion there is under the sun, surely there is something you can brew that can bring back the smile on your lovably goofy familiar?

You’ll pour over all of these books if you have to. Despite your forgetfulness, your love for your familiar rings true; you would do anything for him, whatever he might ask.

A thought passes through your mind, but you shut it down for now. A last resort, you think grimly to yourself. You have a few hours left before he wakes up, after all. You’ll find something, you’re sure.

x x x x x

[December 4, 9:14 AM]

It turns out you do not find anything, after all. A halo of books surrounds you on your living room floor, your worn fingers littered with papercuts and ink stains after spending the whole night looking for a suitable gift for Seokjin. Everything just seems too regular to be a gift, though you suppose you’re only picky because you know that Seokjin is pickier. He’d whine for days if you gave him just any gift, and nothing grinds your gears more than having a sulking hamster eating the plants in your garden.

“Grandeur,” you can imagine him saying, nose upturned in that snooty way of his. “I require the most exquisite of presents. I, after all, am above peasantry. I cannot even stand the taste of wooden chopsticks upon my silver tongue.”

Frankly, you have no idea how he’d gotten to become such a prick so haughty, given that you know that he used to live on the streets before he had met you. Regardless, you’ve always been the type of person to be a little too forgiving, so your patience for his irritating unorthodox personality is stronger than most.

Although it might not be immediately apparent to most observers, the two of you make for a perfect pair. You are the calm to his storm, the logic to his insanity, the yin to his dumbass yang. While it’s easy to say that you hold the short end of the stick when it comes to living with Seokjin, he also grounds you and keeps you from pushing yourself too hard. There have been many long nights in the past when you would be too absorbed in your work, not even remembering to eat or drink for days. All it takes is a soft poke or nibble from Seokjin to jolt you back to your senses as he reminds you time and time again that your life matters not only to you, but him as well.

He’s your familiar. Your sweet, foolish, annoying, narcissistic familiar. It really might have been fate for you to have met all those months ago in your garden, though you’d never tell him that. He’d be much too smug about it if you did, as he never did shy away from proclaiming that he was your knight in shining armor or something.

Which is all the more reason that you fear for your life now that you’ve run out of options for his birthday present. He’d never let you hear the end of it, and you can only imagine how a vengeful and spiteful Seokjin might be compared to his normal self.

You sigh dejectedly, closing your last book and shoving it across your living room floor. “This is my fault for forgetting,” you say, rubbing your temples with a grimace. Of all the times your forgetfulness could fail you, you certainly would have hoped that this would not be one of the times when it did. You must remember to ask Namjoon to restock the ingredients needed to make more head clarity potions, though you suppose you might end up forgetting to do that as well.

Every potion in your arsenal of knowledge just wouldn’t work out for Seokjin, or at least you think so. The potions are either too useless or too useful, with the latter being a bigger problem. As much as you like to tease Seokjin for his hamster-sized brain, he did have his cunning moments. You dread to wonder what type of mischief he might come up with should you give him, say, a 24-hour luck potion.

“Though I suppose he wouldn’t be able to take over the world in 24 hours… Could he?” Even as you say it, you know in your heart of hearts that he absolutely can and will. Fucking bastard that he is.

With no other options viable to you, you did have one last trick up your sleeve. You might even say this option is worse than a 24-hour luck potion, though you will be making sure that he has adult supervision while he, erm, utilizes this gift of yours. This last-minute gift idea of yours is famous amongst your circle of friends, mostly because you do have a penchant for forgetting numerous birthdays and anniversaries in the past.

You’re usually quick to resort to this last-minute gift whenever you forget someone’s birthday, as you trust that your friends would never misuse your kindness in any way. But like most things, Seokjin is a different case entirely. As you have mentioned before, Seokjin… has ways of getting whatever he wants, whenever he wants. Added with the fact that you were unquestionably whipped for his hamster ass, he most often can get you to do things that aren’t what most would consider being “morally sound.” You may love him, but you certainly don’t trust him.

Long story short, you are slightly terrified of giving him ten wishes for his birthday. Ten wishes that will allow him to ask you to do anything for him, as long as they’re within your abilities of course. If anyone were to find out that you were even considering offering wishes to Seokjin, much less ten wishes, you are sure that they would throttle you for the premeditated mass destruction of the human population.

Which is why you’re going to have to make some rules for the little rodent, and hope to all the deities up above that he doesn’t find a loophole of sorts. Hopefully.

It’s nearing 9:30 AM when you manage to muster up enough courage to tiptoe noiselessly into his room, not bothering to knock as you know that he will most likely ignore you. Your heart pangs when you see him curled up into a ball in his bed, still in his human form as you had not been able to transform him back into a hamster before he had stormed off the night before. He has his back turned away from the door, but you know he’s awake when you hear his muffled sniffles. Your previous trepidation is replaced with guilt immediately, causing you to lower your head in shame.

“Seokjin? Sweetie?” You say his name hesitantly, unsurprised when the shifter refuses to look at you. You pad softly towards his bed, your knee digging into the soft mattress but not daring to come closer. You want desperately to cuddle with him in bed, always having appreciated his higher body temperature, especially during the colder months.

“I’m so sorry for forgetting your birthday, Seokjinnie. I know I’m a big fool for forgetting such an important day, but I really hope you can forgive me,” your voice grows softer the more you speak, dropping to a whisper by the end of your sentence. The room is silent, save for the sound of Seokjin’s breathing and your rapidly beating heart. Your mouth feels like sandpaper when you continue, “I know this might not make it up to you entirely, but I do have a gift that I want to share with you.”

At the mention of the word “gift,” you can see the way the small hamster ears perched on his head start to twitch. You smile secretively to yourself, knowing that you finally got his attention. “Come on, sweetie. Don’t you want to know what your present is?”

With a loud sigh, Seokjin rolls over to face you, his cheeks blotchy with tear stains and dried snot. You nearly cry out at the sight, but you keep your guilt to yourself, now more eager than ever to right your wrongs. You hate seeing him cry, most especially when it is you who had made him shed those tears.

“You got me a gift?” His voice is hoarse, but his curiosity is plain as day.

You nod happily, clapping your hands with excitement. “Yup! I know this will be the first time Seokjinnie is celebrating his birthday with me, so I thought long and hard about this—” a complete lie, but he doesn’t have to know that, “—and I thought it would be great if I gave you ten wishes for your birthday!”

There is a pause. In lieu of a response, Seokjin just sits up in bed, pushing off his blankets and blinking rapidly at you in disbelief. He rubs his eyes once, twice, but it still seems like he can’t believe what he’s seeing (and hearing). His mouth opens and closes, before finally saying, “Excuse me?”

You arch a brow, slightly confused as to why Seokjin seemed so astonished. “What? Do you not want ten wishes for your birthday?”

Seokjin shakes his head, looking like a possessed bobblehead with how quickly he moves. “No, of course I do! I just… You trust me enough to make ten wishes? Me?”

You cringe. “Well, trust is a strong word…”

“I knew it!” Seokjin scoffs, pointing at you accusingly. He flops back onto the bed, a deep pout on his face. “My ten wishes are probably gonna be stuff like ‘No cooking duties for a month!’ or something equally as lame.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, yes that could be one of your wishes if you so desired. But no, you can ask for fun stuff too.”

Seokjin raises a finger. “Oh really? Then how about—”

“No wishes that will allow you to attain world domination,” you interrupt, watching amusedly when he immediately deflates.

“Aww,” Seokjin mutters, dropping his finger. A second later, he raises the same finger again. “Then—”

“And no bodily augmentations as well,” you add.

Seokjin looks down at his crotch dejectedly. “Aww!” Seokjin repeats. ”Then what else am I supposed to ask for?!”

You shrug, tapping your chin. “Well, is there anything else in that empty skull of yours that you might want? There should be something you want that you can’t have.”

For a moment, Seokjin’s expression turns cloudy, like he usually does when he’s thinking deeply about something. It might have been the trick of the morning light, but you swear he gives you a quick once over, tongue poking out to wet his chapped lips. “I have an idea,” he says, voice low.

You feel your palms begin to sweat, unused to the dark look on Seokjin’s face. Anticipation fills you as you both stare at each other, neither willing to back down. “Y-yes?” you say, suddenly nervous to hear his response.

He smirks, tilting his head with contemplation. “I want…”

What? What do you want? You squeeze your fists unknowingly, forcibly keeping yourself from squeezing other parts of your body. Could it be..? No…

“Seokjin—”

“I want to beat Jeon Jungkook in a spicy noodle challenge. Just once in my fucking life!” Seokjin hollers, punching his pillow in the midst of his unexpected fury. His eyes are blazing, cheeks puffed up due to his unbridled hamster-y rage. “That little bunny bitch! Thinks he’s hot shit just because he can eat two more cups of spicy ramen more than me? Well, I want him to finally get a taste of his own medicine!”

You feel your shoulders sag in relief, wondering where on earth your brain had been going just a moment ago. “You… You want to get a spice resistance potion? Yeah, I can do that for you. Give me a second,” you say, dashing out of his room like your ass is on fire, afraid that he might notice the blush dusting the tops of your ears. You mentally slap yourself, biting the insides of your cheeks to keep from strangling yourself. Keep it together, Y/N. Remember how much of an idiot he is and you’ll be fine… Just don’t think too hard about it.

Lucky for Seokjin, spice resistance potions are quick enough to make and it only takes you 10 minutes to cork the finished concoction for him. You scurry back to his bedroom, about to hand the small vial over to him when the words get caught in your throat. You’re momentarily paralyzed by the sight of his naked back, his ocean-wide broad shoulders on full display for your wandering eyes to feast on. Naked Seokjin isn’t even a rare occurrence in your household, but it doesn’t get easier to witness even as the days go by. In fact, you guess it only gets harder for you, pun intended.

Thankfully (or unthankfully), Seokjin slips on a clean shirt before turning to you, his expression lighting up when he sees you (with your mouth still fully agape) with the potion in hand. “Nice one, Y/N!” He takes the vial from you, peering at the minty green color with glee. “Oh damn, when I see that little shithead, he’s not gonna know what hit him!”

“Are you gonna go challenge him today?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. I’d rather spend my birthday doing other things. Plus, I already have better ideas for the remaining nine wishes I have left.”

“Such as?”

He pats your head a little condescendingly, a devious smirk playing on his lips. “No need to worry your little head, Y/N. You don’t even need to work for four wishes, because I know for a fact that you have these potions in your stock,” he says, laughing maniacally as he scampers off to your basement storage.

“Seokjin!” You call out to him, wondering not for the first time how he always manages to outrun you despite doing nothing all day except eat sunflower seeds and play videogames all day. Though you assume it might have to do with his rodent DNA, as the little shit always did manage to slip from your fingers when you’re strangling holding him in his tiny furry form.

When you get to your cellar, you find him rummaging through your stores and softly humming a tune as he takes his time sorting through your potions. You try to peek over his shoulders to see what he’s doing, but it’s a lost cause as his entire frame somehow manages to block your entire view. Fuck him and his doorframe shoulders.

“Hey, I heard that!” Seokjin says, making you realize belatedly that you did say it out loud—not that you particularly cared if he heard. You’ve thought and said worse, plus he knows it. He thrives on being an asshole.

“Can you at least tell me what you want? I can find them for you too, as long as they aren’t… too dangerous,” you say the last part skeptically, not knowing what is categorized as “dangerous” when it comes to him. For all you know, he could somehow find a way to kill a man with a healing potion.

“No, no. I got it. Here,” he hands you a medium-sized vial filled with a colorless liquid. When you turn the bottle over, you see that you labeled it as one of your hair color changing mood potions, a popular novelty potion that you sold to kids at the market sometimes.

“Why on earth would you want this?” You snort. “Let me guess… You want to feed this to Yoongi so that you can anticipate whenever he’s about to scratch your eyeballs?”

“Close, but not quite! I want you to drink it,” Seokjin says, poking his head out of the cupboard to give you a quick smile. He winks at you, which you do not return. “Come on then. Drink up!”

You squint at him incredulously. When he doesn’t seem to be joking, you exclaim, “Hold on. Why on earth do you want me to drink this?”

But Seokjin has already shoved his head back into the cupboard, the sound of bottles clinking together nearly drowning out his voice as he struggles to find the other potions he’s looking for. “No particular reason! I just never see you with crazy hair colors and I always wondered how you’d look like in pink. I think it’d suit you.”

You flush darkly in response, stammering loudly at his brazenness. “But pink is the color for…” You trail off, embarrassment short-circuiting your brain. No way he could mean… that, could he?!

“Pink is for happiness, right?” Seokjin says after a moment, not noticing your awkward demeanor as he finally exits the cupboard, three other bottles cradled carefully in his arms. He closes the wooden door with his foot, walking out of the cellar with his prizes and not bothering to check if your dumbfounded self is following suit.

It takes a second for you to snap out of your stupor, yelping when he nearly slams the basement door on your face. “No, you idiot! Yellow is for happiness! Oh Merlin, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” you curse, treading closely on his heels.

Seokjin looks at you with confusion, but he thankfully doesn’t ask what specific mood the color pink represents. “Well, I guess you’re gonna have to live with yellow hair all day.”

“And why is that?” you say lamely.

“Because I’ll get to see how happy you are to be with me! After all, I am so incredibly handsome,” Seokjin laughs haughtily. He waits for you to open the door back to the house, his resounding laughter sounding even louder when you both enter, given the acoustics of your home.

“Then I guess my hair will be blue all day instead,” you scoff, pinching him lightly in the side.

“Oh? Because you’re sad that you can’t be as pretty as me? Understandable,” he nods sagely. “Or perhaps you’ll turn green with envy because you can’t be as pretty as me? Or even orange with fear, because you can’t be as pretty as—”

After living with him for so long, you’ve long since developed the ability to mute him out without needing to plug your ears with anything. It’s a necessary skill that you pride yourself in having, as it allows you to live in peace with the insufferable twat. You pity anyone who has ever had to live with him for an extended period of time; dear Merlin, you hope to meet his mother someday, as she must have been incredibly powerful to birth such a beast into existence and raise him willingly, too.

“Hey, are you listening to me? Are you muting me again? ON MY BIRTHDAY? Stop that!” Seokjin whines, poking you in the cheek. You startle slightly, pointing him with an annoyed look.

“Sorry, your highness. Does that count as one of your wishes? Because I honestly don’t think I can handle listening to you ALL DAY. I may be a talented witch, but even I don’t think that’s within my capabilities.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes, sticking his tongue out petulantly. “Whatever. Just drink the potion already, will you? Or would you rather I ask for a mind-reading potion instead?”

That shut you up quickly. You shudder at the thought of Seokjin with any sort of telepathic powers. You don’t consider yourself a saint, but you feel as though it’s your duty to keep him away from any sort of power. The world should thank you for your service, honestly.

Without further ado, you pop the cork off the bottle, downing the plasticky tasting potion in one big gulp. “Ugh. I don’t know why kids love this stuff. Tastes like shit.” You grimace, rushing to your kitchen to grab a glass of water.

On your way there, you notice your hair color begins to change from the mirror you keep above the kitchen sink. Your roots are starting to gain a light brown color, the default shade of the potion, but the color quickly drains out as you take your first sip of water. By the time the terrible taste is out of your tongue, your hair has turned completely gray. You finger your tresses, staring at its unnatural steeliness. “Well, at least we know it works. Gray means neutral if I remember correctly.”

“Damn, so this is how you’d look when you turn 50. Would still bang, not gonna lie,” Seokjin whistles, narrowly missing a jab to the stomach from you.

“No one asked for your opinion,” you retort hotly, hoping to the heavens that your hair isn’t changing color again.

Judging from Seokjin’s smirk, your prayers are useless. He cards a hand through your hair, admiring its new color. “Oh, interesting! Purple is for embarrassment, right? Wow, this is gonna be much more fun than I would have imagined!”

“A-anyway,” you slap his hand away, taking a step away from him to keep him from seeing your burning face (though it’s not like you hadn’t already been exposed anyway. Stupid magic potion.) You point to the three remaining bottles he had stolen from your basement, eager to divert the conversation away from the topic of your vulnerable emotions. “What about these? What on earth would you need—” You turn one of the bottles upside down, reading the label. “An illusion potion? Oh Seokjin, I don’t know about this one…”

Seokjin groans. “Oh, come on! The only rules you had were no world domination and no body augmentation, but you never said anything about fake body augmentation!”

“Trust you to find a loophole in any given circumstance,” you sigh, rubbing your temples in a futile attempt to stall the incoming migraine (too late for that, given that the personified version of a headache happens to live with you.) “Okay, fine. Tell me what you’re gonna use it for and then I’ll decide.”

“Simple,” Seokjin snaps his fingers. He trails his hands to his ass, squeezing the globes of fat with a sad sigh. “I want people to think I have an ass thicker than Park Jimin’s.”

For some indiscernible, unconnected reason, you feel as though one of the blood vessels in your brain just popped. In any case, having a stroke might be a better fate than continuing to live in the same universe as the withered toenail in front of you. “I beg you to repeat that sentence. Think about your words first, really grasp their true meaning. Try to remember what it’s like to have functioning brain cells. Then try to repeat your words with a straight face.”

“I. Want. People. To. Think. I. Have. An. Ass. Thicker. Than. Park. Jimin’s.” Seokjin repeats, his expression as flat as his ass. “Are you happy now? Will you grant my wish, please? You said no bodily augmentations, so having the illusion that I have thick ass should be perfectly acceptable, is it not?”

“I rue the day you learned to speak the human language.” You sigh irritably, pocketing the offending potion. When Seokjin begins to protest, you silence him with a quick glare. “Don’t worry, you fucking moron. I’m only allowing you to use this potion with my supervision and I simply don’t have the time to watch you bump bubble butts with the local village thot right now,” you explain.

Seokjin nods, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Indeed… I will need your assistance when I walk into town once everyone sees me with my ass shots and tiddies done. The people will simply devour me in an instant.”

“Are you aware that every moment you breathe, you are poisoning the air with your toxic presence?” you say with a deadpan stare. Ignoring his indignant squawks, you take a look at the two remaining bottles. “Alright. Please fucking tell me these are at least slightly sensible choices…”

“If there’s anything I know after living with you, it’s that our definitions of ‘sensible’ vary greatly between us,” Seokjin says, and for once you couldn’t agree more. He takes the last two bottles, turning them over to show you the labels underneath. “They’re luck and truth potions, each with a dose worth one hour. And before you say anything,” Seokjin beats you to the punch, holding a finger up when it looks like you’re about to protest, “These aren’t for me.”

You scrunch your brow in confusion, not quite following his logic. “What? Then what’s the point?”

Seokjin’s grin is mischievous, the twinkle in his eye sending a shiver down your spine. You’re familiar with that look, as it’s the same kind of expression he has whenever he plans to do something incredibly stupid, like eating uncooked noodles before pouring boiling water down his throat in order to eat instant ramen faster. You’ve been at the victim of too many of his ridiculous schemes to not know that whatever he is planning can’t be innocent.

“It’s simple, my dear Y/N. This is all part of my ingenious master plan that I thought of ten minutes ago,” Seokjin explains, tittering haughtily like some poorly designed video game villain. “Hold the applause, because my plan is going to rock your socks off.”

“I’m not even wearing any socks.”

“Then my plan will put socks on you, my dear. That’s how incredible it is,” Seokjin says, undeterred. “So basically, we’re finally going to get Yoongi and Namjoon to fuck.”

Seokjin pauses for dramatic effect, waving his hands around like a magician would, except the only magical act he’s ever performed was to be born as the first-ever living creature without a functioning brain. “Well?” he prompts, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Are you not going to ask me how I’m going to do it?”

Your expression morphs from confusion, to incredulity, to frustration, to acceptance all in five seconds flat. You’ve long since realized that it’s easier not to ask too many questions for the sake of your mental health, though you suppose it might be important to ask a few questions, mostly for the sake of your friends’ safety. You’ve lost enough acquaintances as it is, all because your familiar with rocks for brains wouldn’t know decency if you shoved it up his ass. 

(PS: No, they aren’t dead, but they’ve told you that Seokjin makes them feel like death anyway. That’s just the sort of effect he has on people.)

“Fine, I’ll bite. What’s your ingenious plan to get Yoongi and Namjoon to fuck entail?” you ask, gritting your teeth in preparation to withstand the pure, unadulterated strength of his dumbassery.

“Well firstly, I need the luck potion to win rock, paper, scissors against Yoongi,” Seokjin starts, smirking at the thought. “It’s been my dream to beat him at the game, as the score right now between the two of us is 349 to null in his favor—”

“That’s just because you always play paper. Consistently. You never use scissors or rock,” you deadpan.

Seokjin gasps, holding a finger up to your lips to silence you. “I am above using rocks! I am no barbarian! And do you think I’d ever use scissors? That is just one step away from me throwing up a peace sign like some sort of weeb!” Seokjin retorts, nose upturned in the air. You struggle to keep your fists by your sides, the itch to punch him in his perfectly sculpted nose growing by the second.

“Regardless, I intend to win this time,” Seokjin continues. “And I will make him take the truth potion as my prize for winning so that he may finally confess his feelings for Namjoon and end their five-year-long mutual suffering.”

“Don’t you mean mutual pining?” 

“Same thing,” Seokjin shrugs. “You and I both know that those two idiots will continue to skirt around each other like teenagers who only just realized that their penises can be used in different ways other than for pissing. They’ve been in love with each other for far too long and I intend to be the cupid that brings those two together.”

“Why must you phrase things like that,” you sigh, not really asking with the intent of hearing an answer. You’ve been asking him the same question for months now, and have yet to receive an answer that isn’t “because I can!”

“So does that mean you’ll let me use the luck and truth potions?” Seokjin asks, his lip jutted out in what he probably presumes is a cute manner, but all it does is make him look like his bottom lip got stung by a hornet. (Still kinda cute though, you think to yourself.)

After taking another five seconds to deeply access the state of your life, you sigh tiredly, feeling weary beyond your years. Figures that he would notice the attraction between your two best friends, but still remains oblivious to your own feelings. 

“Fine,” you acquiesce, crossing your arms in an attempt to look annoyed. You aren’t doing a very good job, however, as you try not to smile at Seokjin’s unabashed excitement. Fuck him for being so adorable when he’s happy. Why couldn’t he be excited over more normal things, like R-18 video games or hentai?

You clear your throat, stopping his celebration. “Do you really want to spend your birthday getting Namjoon and Yoongi to get together though? Pardon me for saying this, but I seriously didn’t think you’d want to help them.”

“Why not?”

“You always seemed a little too enthusiastic whenever the two of them were being...” you pause, stuck on the word you want to use.

“Super stupidly horny for each other? Yeah, I admit that I do enjoy watching Namjoon getting a boner whenever Yoongi does that weird cat thing,” he says, shrugging.

“Weird cat thing? You mean when he stretches and his entire torso grows twice as long?”

“Precisely!” Seokjin claps his hands, grinning ear to ear. “It’s super gross and weirdly cute! I don’t know how Namjoon finds that even remotely horny-inducing. Must be a cat person thing.”

You shake your head, unwilling to think deeper about the psychological mechanisms of your friends. “Besides the point. Do you want to head over to Namjoon’s place now? They invited us for dinner tomorrow to celebrate your birthday anyway, so we can always do this next time, or…”

“Hell no,” Seokjin is quick to interject, knowing that you're just trying to weasel your way out of being an accomplice in his ill-planned hijinks. Your shoulders slump in defeat. "You are not getting out of this. We are doing this today before either of us forget! C'mon, it won't take that long."

"That's what I was afraid you'd say," you grumble. "But fine. Just gimme a sec to get ready," you point at Seokjin's ahegao printed pajamas with disgust, "—and you should probably change out your clothes too."

Seokjin looks down at his clothes with a confused expression. "What's wrong with my PJs?"

"I think the more important question is what's wrong with you," you reply, stalking off to your bedroom. You smile secretly to yourself when you hear his squawks of offense.

As you hadn't gotten sleep the night before, you only just notice that you're still wearing yesterday's clothes on your back, the sweat after hours of worrying about what to get Seokjin making your shirt stick grossly to your armpits. You strip off quickly, doing your best to freshen up and look semi-decent (though there isn't much of a need; you've been friends with Namjoon long enough that he's seen you at your worst.)

You pass by your dresser, seeing your reflection in the mirror. Your hair color is shifting from yellow to brown at a rapid pace, making it appear as though you'd been the victim of a terrible dye job.

"I'm a victim, for sure..." you mutter to yourself, fingering your multi-colored locks. The brown color is for annoyance, which shouldn't be much of a surprise to anyone, but the yellow? Happiness isn’t exactly the word you’d describe your emotions right now. And also, do your eyes deceive you? Is there a patch of pink appearing just at the crown of your head?

“No, no… This is no good at all.” You force yourself to think of sad thoughts, trying desperately for the colors to change—but to no avail. Luckily, that hamster bastard doesn't remember what pink means, or else you'd definitely be screwed, and maybe not even in the good way.

You sigh tiredly, slumping over onto your bed when the fatigue from the day finally hits you. “It’s only morning, and I already want to die. Must be a record,” you snort in exasperation, watching as the tips of your hair turn black in response. “Wow, thanks magic. No one would have guessed I was tired unless you said so,” you mutter sarcastically. 

You never thought that you were much of a tsundere, but you're starting to understand the appeal. People knowing your emotions so easily is disconcerting, to say the least. You'd rather die than let Seokjin know that his stupid little antics actually do make you happy, since spending time with him doing pretty much anything is always a good time. It's just... someone has to hold the brain cell in the relationship, and you never would have expected that you'd be the wielder majority of the time.

When you step out back into the living room feeling more refreshed, Seokjin is ready to go. Which is to say, he hasn't moved a single inch from where he was standing just ten minutes ago.

"You bitch! I told you to get dressed," you snap. You pull him by the ear, making the 179 cm adult man whine like a little baby. "Take your clothes off!"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he wheezes, still grimacing from the throbbing pain from where you had tugged his lobe. He tries to wink at you but fails tremendously. He looks like he’s having a funky lil seizure instead. "Just transform me into my animal form and let me ride in your pocket. It's too cold out to walk! You know how sensitive my nipples are! They turn into ping pong balls when it's winter."

"I don't care. Please stop using me as your personal taxi service; you've shat in the pockets of two of my coats already," you grumble, but your pleas remain unheard. He pouts, and your feeble willpower disintegrates immediately at the sight. You sigh, "But since it's your birthday, I won't complain about it this time."

"You literally just complained though?"

You ignore him. You outstretch your finger, ready to boop. "Alright, gimme your nose, wench."

Instead of coming closer as you expected, Seokjin just gives you a contemplative look. Never a good sign. "Actually, that gives me an idea..."

"Oh, dear Merlin. Not another one of those. Please spare me," you groan.

"This one is easy though!" Seokjin tuts, bonking you on the head. You hear something click in the back of your skull, but now is not the time to ponder about such trivialities. He continues, "Instead of my nose being my transformation point... Do you think you could—"

"I am not making your penis your transformation point," you interrupt.

"—make my butt my transformation point? Wait, hold on, nevermind. I think I like your idea better," Seokjin jumps in excitement, but his mirth dies when he sees your unimpressed stare. "Okay, fine. No penis touching. But butts! You touch my butt all the time anyway! It shouldn't be that different."

"Yeah, but I only touch your ass so often because you beg me to punch and massage it in hopes of it becoming bigger. Which, by the way, isn't a real thing. You should do squats instead or something."

Seokjin gasps, scandalized. "Me? Working out? Please, that's as improbable as Yoongi turning into a regular-sized person!"

"I'm telling Yoongi you said that," you roll your eyes. "And to answer your question, no I won't switch your transformation point to your—" Wait, hold the phone. That gives you an idea. A glorious plan, something that might finally teach him a lesson.

No way in hell he would fall for that, though, you think idly to yourself. You’d be too obvious! Unless..?

"What is it?" Seokjin asks, confused when you suddenly stop speaking. He gazes curiously at the way your eyes are glazed over, concerned when he sees the way the corners of your lips twitch slightly. "What's up with you?"

You snap out of your reverie, your mischievous thought quickly cementing itself in your mind. Seokjin may be a chaotic shithead, but so are you. No one can endure living with Kim Seokjin for long without gaining a few shithead genes in the process, and you're no exception. This will teach him to be a little more conscientious, you hope. It's a pipedream, but as they say... Reach for the moon, and if you miss, then at least you'll get swallowed up by a black hole and turn into spaghetti.

"Nothing. Just had a thought, thot." You whistle innocently, barely holding down your grin when Seokjin stares at you suspiciously. Fortunately, your hair color hasn't given you away. To be fair, you didn't know light blue was the color for being a jackass either; you learn something new every day. "Nevermind that. I changed my mind. I'll grant your wish. After all, it is your birthday."

"That's right!" Seokjin exclaims, but there's a note of uncertainty and nervousness in his tone. He squints at you, pursing his lips. "Aha... Of course, it's only right that you give me what I want. It's what you promised, after all."

"Yes, yes... What Seokjin wants, Seokjin gets..." You trail off, your mind preoccupied as you hurriedly go over to your kitchen cupboard. You aren't sure if you kept them or not, so it takes you a few moments of sifting through all the bottles of herbs before you find it in the back, where it has gained a thin layer of dust all over it. You wipe it off, humming in victory when you see that it's exactly what you need.

You take a quick look at the bottom of the bottle, pleased to see that Namjoon had forgotten to label it, like always. But you remember what it is, even though you've never really quite needed to use this particular herb. He had given it to you as a strange novelty item a long time ago: it was an ingredient for obscure potions that were never really ordered at regular magical apothecaries, which is why it had remained untouched in your cupboard until today.

By itself, it has strong magical properties too, or rather... You suppose it would be more accurate to call them side effects. It has an incredibly confounding side effect that some might consider dangerous, which is why it's important to handle this herb with the proper protective equipment. Not that Seokjin would know that, of course.

"Here," you say, handing over the innocuous-looking bottle to Seokjin. He peers at it, turning it over to look for the nonexistent label.

"What is this? Weed?" he murmurs, popping the lid open and taking a tentative sniff. "Doesn't smell like it," he says, raising a brow in confusion. You let out a small giggle, but thankfully, he doesn't notice your slip up.

"Nah, it's called the Baliktad herb. I remember that Namjoon had given it to me ages ago, and it's coincidentally something you can use to... transfer magic from one body part to another." You choose your words carefully, though it's not like you're lying, anyway. Vagueness is the first step in deceit, after all.

"Really? How does it work?" 

"Simple! All you have to do is grind some of the herbs into a powder, mix it with some water to form a paste, then rub it on your nose and your butt. Wait a few seconds and poof!"

Seokjin nods, intrigued. "Wow, I've never heard of this thing before. Are there other uses for this? Say, what if I rubbed some of it on my dick instead—"

"Oh shut the fuck up and give me that," you grab the bottle back, glaring at his impish face. "You know what? I can't trust you to administer it on yourself. Lemme make the paste and I'll rub it on you."

"That sounds hot," Seokjin winks, barely dodging your kick to his nuts. "Hey, hey! Feet off the prize, darling! My balls are where the ladies get their babies."

To stop yourself from screaming, you keep your mouth shut this once. Besides, you're too excited for what you're about to do to him, so keeping silent is a small price to pay. All of it will be worth when you finally give him a taste of his own medicine. Or rather, a smell of his own medicine.

When you finish grinding the herb into a paste, you clear your throat, gesturing for Seokjin to sit on the couch. "Alright, let me put some on your honker first before I get to your ass. And no, you better not make some 'ass is grass' joke."

Seokjin visibly deflates. "Hey, what the fuck? You stole my joke before I even said it! I guess that's soulmate culture for you," he sighs dreamily, before yelping loudly when you shove two gloved fingers up his nostrils. "Hey! What was that for!"

"Oh, sorry," you apologize unapologetically. "I was just worried that if I slathered it on top of your nose, I might accidentally trigger your transformation, so I took the safer route it jammed it up your nostrils instead."

"Whatever happened to a gentlelady's touch..." he whines, scowling petulantly at you. "Wait, if you're gonna jam it up my nostrils, then does that you're also gonna jam it up my—"

Before he can finish his sentence, you push him down onto his stomach, kneeling on his back and literally stealing his breath away. "Aight, rat. I'm shoving your pants down now," you warn gruffly. He makes a winded sound, probably a snarky response that would have made you slap his nuts. Fortunately, your legs were currently crushing his windpipe and leaving him incapable of speaking.

It's funny how you’ve become numb to the sight of his naked ass at this point. Once upon a time, you had blushed constantly at the sight of his sweet cheeks, making for an awkward first two months of living together. Every time you close your eyes, the two globes would be imprinted underneath your lids, haunting you. Nowadays, you'd be more concerned if he wasn't wearing his signature "God Won't Let Me Die" booty shorts.

Also, despite what he says, he isn't completely assless. He has a substantial amount of cake, certainly nothing to scoff at. You grumble and moan about "having" to massage his ass, but honestly? Who wouldn't want to grab his ass? You might be stupid, but you aren't an idiot.

“The salve is going to be cold, by the way,” you warn, though it’s useless to say at this point since he already experienced it when you shoved up his nose just two minutes ago. Whatever. 

Unlike then, you are much gentler applying the salve on his butt this time, mostly out of fear that 1) you'd accidentally penetrate his asshole with your finger like that one time (don't ask), or 2) you'd massage his butt like you know he wants you to.

“Harder, mommy,” he fake moans, wiggling his ass. You almost slap him on instinct, but think better of it.

"I hate that you're such a... debauched cretin," you say, tenderly rubbing his ass with a scowl. If any bystander were to see you, they'd might have thought you were his kind girlfriend rubbing medicine on a bruise or massaging your poor fatigued boyfriend. One might have even thought you were rubbing him a little bit too sensually, but little do people know... You were playing a stupid little prank on your dumbass familiar that may or may not cause him to beat you up (not that it would be much of a punishment to you, anyway. They don’t write romances like these anymore, huh?)

He taps you on the thigh, and you guess that he’s probably having difficulty breathing from your weight on his back. Feeling kinda bad for him, you shift your legs over, choosing to straddle him instead. However, the regret from your decision comes instantaneously the moment he regains his breath.

"You love me, though. You think I'm funny," Seokjin replies, albeit his voice is still a little strained under your weight.  "You think I'm cute, too."

Yeah, you do. "I think your hamster form is cute. Get that shit out of your head," you scoff, but your heated cheeks betray you.

“I can’t see you right now, but I bet your hair is an insane shade of purple, isn’t it?” he teases, wiggling like a worm to express his glee.

“Fuck you,” you grouse. You slap his thigh twice in retribution: the first one for teasing you, and the second one for pretending to moan after you had slapped him the first time.

He was only half-right about your hair, anyway. You catch a glimpse of your pastel purple and pink hair from the corner of your eye, alarmingly visible for all to see. Honestly, it doesn’t take a lot of brainpower to figure out what pink actually means, most especially since you have never been subtle with your affections for him. After all, not everyone has the patience to keep up with his antics. The fact that you haven’t squashed him into a tiny hamster pancake is proof enough that you really do love him.

I mean, who else would give Kim Seokjin ten wishes on his birthday? That's giving him way too much power that no one should be comfortable with. Just goes to show that maybe like attracts like, sometimes. You must be a little crazy too, you suppose.

He’s never caught on to your feelings, however, as he probably thinks you’re more like an annoying younger sister or something. After all, you bicker with him more than anything else, but that’s just how it is on this bitch of an earth.

Luckily or unluckily for you, Seokjin doesn’t comment on your hair color when he sits up after you finish rubbing the herbs onto his gooch. He’s much too busy wrinkling his nose in confusion, his forehead scrunching as the herbs are presumably starting to take effect.

“How am I supposed to know when the herbs work?” he asks, scratching his nose. The salve has dried out considerably, turning more into flecks that fall off when he disturbs it. So now, it looks like he has disgusting leathery boogers hanging out from his nostrils. Somehow, he makes it work anyway.

“Oh, you’ll know,” you respond vaguely, smiling when you can tell that Seokjin’s suspicions are beginning to grow. “Want me to test it out?”

Seokjin nods, leaning closer and presenting you with his nose. You tap him gently on the tip (lol), both of you waiting for the scent of caramel and mint to signal his shift. When nothing comes, Seokjin gasps in elation, clapping his hands gleefully as he bounces up and down in his seat.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe that worked! I was so sure you were gonna prank me… I overestimated you,” he says haughtily, pointing his stupid nose up in the air. He guffaws, standing up and wagging his ass at you smugly. “C’mon, then! Slap my ass and let’s see if it really works!”

You don’t move immediately, disappointed when the actual effect of the herb doesn’t seem to be working. You pout, observing him skeptically. “Wait, hold on. Are you sure you don’t feel weird?”

His victory hoots come to an abrupt halt. “No? Why would I be?”

“Don’t you… smell anything odd?”

Seokjin looks at you weirdly. “No? Unless you count not smelling my transformation scent, then—wait, just a second.” He freezes up, sniffing the air with a disgusted expression on his face. “Shit, you’re right! There’s something super funky in the air. You didn’t fuck up my sense of smell or something, did you?”

“Nope,” you say, popping your p. Your smirk grows, breathy giggles escaping you. “Say, can you describe what you’re smelling?”

“Oh Merlin, it’s terrible! It smells like shit? Like fucking… like ass or something!” He grimaces, sticking his tongue out as he is assaulted by the stench that only he can smell. “What the fuck is that? Oh my fucking word…”

You’re breaking into full out laughter at this point, nearly falling over onto the floor from the strength of your mirth. You barely hear Seokjin’s squawks of bewilderment, ignoring his demands to tell him what you had done to him.

“I can’t believe it worked,” you wheeze, hunched over on your knees. You’re spraying spit everywhere from your hysterics, though you are exaggerating your delight a little just to piss Seokjin off. You point and scream at his face, hollering like a banshee until he finally grabs your wrists to make you stop.

“Out with it! What the hell did you do to me?” he shouts, shaking you roughly with unhinged eyes.

It takes you a moment to respond, unable to breathe through your giggles. “You—you’re fucking—smelling your own—wheeze—your own ass!”

Seokjin stares at you, dumbfounded. “What?!”

“Your—HAHA—your fucking ass! I switched your nose to your ass, you idiot! Just like you asked!”

Seokjin’s jaw drops, complete bafflement and betrayal on his expression. He backs away from you, shaking his head slowly with bugged-out eyes as he begins to fully understand the weight of your treachery. “You,” he seethes, venom dripping from that singular word. He sounds like a pet owner about to scold their dumbass cat for eating his prized plastic big booby women figurines or something. 

You grin sweetly back at him, batting your eyelashes for extra effect. “Me? What about me?”

You don’t even have the reflexes to dodge him when he lunges for you, grabbing your neck and strangling you. “You bitch! How could you do this to me on my birthday!”

“Hehehe…” you wheeze, sounding even more goblin-ish with his grip on your throat. “You underestimated me, bastard. You asked for your ass to become your transformation point, and I did. You never said I couldn’t make transfer your sense of smell, too.”

“I didn’t ask you to make me smell my own ass! This is fucking garbage!” he yells, letting you go. You gasp for breath, but you’re still shaking with laughter at the absolutely deranged look in his eyes. He looks like an ape that was recently set free from his enclosure and out onto the streets.

“That’s what you get for not wiping your ass, then!” you retort, sticking your tongue out petulantly.

“Well, we can’t go to Namjoon’s house when all I can smell is my own fucking ass! Merlin, I should’ve downed the luck potion when you left to get changed, but I wanted to be A GOOD PERSON and so decided against it,” he sniffs, utterly irked by this turn of events. “I’m never going to be a moral person again!”

“When have you ever been one? I wasn’t even aware you had a conscience,” you say. “Wait, that reminds me. I’ll be taking these until we go to Namjoon’s, then!” You grab the luck and truth potions, keeping them behind your back. Seokjin immediately tries to grab them, but you’re quick to punch him in the gut with your free hand.

“Ooph! You’re such a meanie—aw shit!” Seokjin screams, holding his hands to his nose instinctively. “Fuck! That was a dirty move! You know hitting my stomach makes me fart! I can’t even cover my nose!”

“Hey, maybe for your next wish, you should ask for some cake. Then maybe we can recreate the cake farts video,” you suggest, mostly as a joke. But of course, you shouldn’t have been surprised when Seokjin starts to seriously contemplate your offer.

“Hmm… I was gonna ask for cake next, but now you’re making me really want cake now,” he hums, shrugging you off when you hit him in retaliation. “What? Why do you keep hitting me?! You’re the one who said it, not me! We might as well turn lemons into lemonade!”

“It was a fucking joke, you moron! I’m seriously going to eat you if you don’t stop being weird—”

“Oh shit, how do you keep reading my mind? Vore was gonna be my next wish too—”

“Shut up!” you hiss, your ears perking up. “I think I heard something from outside.”

You were both so busy bickering with each other that you hadn’t noticed that the doorbell had been ringing for the last minute or so. You both freeze, hearing the shrill sound of the bell going off, followed by three loud knocks. “Hello? Y/N? Are you home?” a familiar voice calls out. “It’s me, Taehyung!”

“Taehyung?” you shriek, staring incredulously at the door. He isn’t meant to visit until the end of the month to pick up refills for his grandfather’s medication. What could he need all of a sudden? “H-hold on! Gimme one sec!”

You’re only two steps away from answering the door when a growl (a squeal? Can hamsters growl?) stops you in your tracks. You slowly turn back to Seokjin, your blood running cold when you remember his blatant dislike for this particular customer. In fact, his aversion towards Taehyung runs so deep that you never allow him to stay in his human form around him lest he begins cursing him out like a sailor.

It doesn’t help, however, that Taehyung only ever sees him in his hamster form and constantly coos at him like a pet. You’ve had to apologize numerous times for the dozens of bites all over his hands and arms, but Taehyung always laughs it off, too oblivious to realize that a two-inch hamster wants to suffocate him with his own mullet.

There seems to be no discernable reason as to why Seokjin loathes Taehyung with such passion, though you’ve always suspected that it’s because he feels threatened by people prettier than him. You’d be the last person to admit to him that he’ll always be the prettiest in your eyes, especially since it would only make him ten times more insufferable.

Until then, Taehyung is just going to have to deal with a murderous, psychotic furball coming for his life. 

Aforementioned psychotic furball takes a step towards the front door, but you’re quick to block his path. “Don’t you dare,” you warn, but you can already sense Seokjin’s hackles rising.

“I know what I want for my next wish,” Seokjin responds instead, disregarding your order.

“Overruled. I’m not letting you kick Taehyung in the nuts,” you say, hands poised to attack. You’re about to smack him on the nose when you realize that it’s not going to work this time. “Fuck! Give me your ass! I am not letting you get away with murder for your birthday!”

“I’ll give you my ass next time, darling. For now, I must defeat my sworn enemy, once and for all!” he howls, making a mad dash towards the door. “I’ll kill you, pretty boy! Only one person can be pretty, and it’s going to be me!”

He may be quicker than you on a regular day, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins gives you enough speed to land a loud, fat slap on his ass before he can even think to twist the doorknob open. Seokjin yelps in surprise as he turns towards you with a betrayed look in his eyes, before promptly being swallowed up by pink smoke and leaving an aggressive ball of fur where he once stood.

“Squeak! Squeak squeak squeak squeak!!” he squeaks, and you’ve long since learned his mannerisms well enough that you know that he just said “Y/N! I’ll fucking kill you!!” or something to that effect.

You pick him up gently into your hands, shushing him to no avail. “Fine, if you’re going to be that way—” you hiss, glaring at him when he gives you a haughty squeak. “—then I’ll just have to...yah!” you yell, hucking him across your living room and (safely) onto the couch.

(Caution: Do not do this to your hamsters. Seokjin is a magical hamster and is unnaturally sturdy, even in hamster form. He is an outlier and should not be counted. Plus, he deserves it.)

With Seokjin out of the way, you finally manage to get the door open without trouble. You greet Taehyung with a smile, although you do not doubt in your mind that you must look a bit worse for wear. Like the gentleman that he is, Taehyung doesn’t comment on your haggard appearance.

“Hey, Y/N. Sorry for intruding without notice. May I come in?” he asks. You nod a little too enthusiastically, stepping aside and allowing him into your abode. You glance at the couch, gasping quietly when you don’t see Seokjin anywhere. 

“Shit,” you curse lowly, to which Taehyung turns to you with a confused look.

“Pardon?” He must have mistaken your agitation to be directed towards him, as he bows to you apologetically. “Sorry again, you must be busy with other things today, but I’m in desperate need of a refill.”

“A refill?” you ask, semi-distracted as your eyes flit around the room, desperately searching for the small brown ball undoubtedly zipping around right under your nose. “What for? Is your grandfather doing okay?”

“Yes, ol’ pops is doing fine. I’m here to ask for a refill for… the other thing,” he coughs, cheeks darkening ever so slightly. His embarrassed tone breaks you from your search for Seokjin, forcing your gaze on him instead.

“The other thing? What do you mean—oh,” you interrupt yourself, finally understanding his meaning. “That thing.”

Taehyung nods frantically, hiding his face in his hands. “S-sorry, I know I asked for that potion as a one-time thing, but I met this new girl who’s really energetic, and let’s just say that I’m not keen on disappointing her when we’ve only started dating.”

You chuckle lightly, patting him on the back. “No need to explain, Tae. I’m not here to judge you. Besides, I just hope this girl doesn’t accidentally kill you like the previous one. Didn’t you say you went at it for three days straight?”

Taehyung groans, his flush growing until it reaches the back of his neck. “D-don’t even remind me about that! I accidentally took two doses of the potion that time and I was wishing for death by the seventh hour. I swear, I thought my dick was gonna turn into a raisin by the end of it—”

“Squeak!”

You both turn your heads towards the shrill noise coming from somewhere in your kitchen. “Shit, I forgot! T-Tae, just stay right here! I’ll be right back.” You jog towards the source, suddenly remembering that there was a live rodent on the loose with an evil agenda and only you would be able to stop him from fulfilling his goals.

You burst inside, immediately spotting that your bottom cupboard is ajar. It’s where you keep your extra stores of potions for regular customers, but you have very little time to wonder which potion Seokjin is aiming for before you’re already ripping open the door to stop the vermin.

“Oh you fucking little ballsack,” you snarl, dismayed when you realize that you’re too late. Seokjin has already found the potion he was looking for, having opened it up and already halfway finished drinking the damn thing.

You slap him away from the bottle before he can do any more damage, smacking him hard enough that his tiny hamster body slams against the cupboard wall. You don’t miss the victorious furry grin on his face, holding up a tiny hamster thumbs up to spite you. “What the hell did you drink?” you hiss, grabbing the half-empty bottle and flipping it over to read the label. “Verbosity potion… Oh, you bastard!”

You know Seokjin has always wanted to cuss out Taehyung like it’s his life mission, but you’ve always made sure that he was safely locked away in his bedroom whenever the younger boy was over for a visit. Seokjin knows today was his only opportunity to get his way, especially since he could always weasel his way out of punishment by using his birthday as an excuse.

“If you say even one word to Taehyung, I swear I’ll—”

“Y/N? Is everything alright?” Taehyung asks meekly from the living room, still standing where you had left him. He has his neck craned slightly to check up on you, but your back is thankfully blocking his view of the tiny psychopath you call your familiar.

“Y-yes! Everything’s just peachy keen,” you laugh nervously, your attention still focused on Seokjin. Your familiar has yet to make a peep, and both of you are slightly confused when he struggles to speak.

“S...squeak?” Seokjin asks, blinking in bewilderment. He looks to you for an explanation, but you’re as lost as he is. Not to toot your own horn, but you’re one of the greatest potion makers of your generation; it’s almost unheard of for your potions to not work.

You don’t question it for now; instead, you grab Taehyung’s requested refill from the back, the red and pink label making it easy to locate. “Here you go! This should be less intense than the previous one I gave you. This one will lose its effect once you’ve… finished, to say the least,” you grimace, smiling awkwardly.

Taehyung takes it from you, shaking your hands wildly. “Thank you so much, Y/N! You’re definitely a lifesaver. I owe you one,” he says, already making his way out the door. “I’ll hand over the payment to you when I come to pick up my grandfather’s medicines at the end of the month if that’s fine with you!”

“No worries, Tae. Take care!” you call out, waving goodbye until he closes your door shut. With Taehyung gone, you instantly return to kneel in front of your cupboard, where Seokjin is still slumped over, unmoving. He looks more dazed than usual, his black eyes unseeing as he stares somewhere behind you.

“Seokjin? You alright? Can you speak?” you ask, but he doesn’t react, as if he hadn’t heard you. You wave a hand in front of his face, snapping your fingers when that doesn’t work. “Hey, smooth brain. I’m sorry for smacking you, okay? I know it’s your birthday and I should be treating you better, but you really shouldn’t snoop around in my potion stores and drink stuff without my permission.”

When Seokjin still does not reply, you decide to pick him up and place him on the floor. You tap him on the bum, waiting a few seconds until Seokjin is back to his human form. When the smoke fades, he’s still stuck in his stupor, but you notice the dark red flush creeping up his neck and ears.

“Seokjinnie? Holy shit, are you okay?” You panic slightly, holding a hand up to his forehead and gasping when you feel the sharp rise in his body temperature. He is definitely feverish, and you’re worried that he might have had some allergic reaction to the potion or something. “Shit, are you getting a rash? Sweetie, can you hear me? Say something, please.”

“Y/N,” he rasps, licking his lips. His pupils are undilated to an unnerving degree, and his breathing is ragged. He stands up unsteadily, wobbling in place. “Fuck, I don’t really feel well.” His voice is deep, speaking unusually slower. You shudder involuntarily, fearful and intrigued all at once.

You shake your head, clearing your thoughts. Seokjin could seriously be in danger right now! Now is not the time to get horny! “Seokjin, explain how you feel. I’ll try to figure out what antidote I should make in case you actually did accidentally poison yourself with something,” you say hurriedly, going over to your stove and grabbing a spare cauldron from its rack. You’re grabbing random herbs and chucking them into a pot, too preoccupied and worried to hear Seokjin groan behind you.

“I feel… hot. And not in a sexy way,” Seokjin whimpers, curling into himself. There is sweat lining the edge of his brow, despite the house being relatively chilly due to the cold weather. “Okay, maybe a little bit in a sexy way.”

“Well if you can still joke about it, then it shouldn’t be life-threatening, whatever this is,” you say. Seokjin coughs out a laugh, but even that makes him cringe from the discomfort.

You decide to check the potion he had drank and see what ingredients you had used, as it usually will tell you how to make a reverse for it. When you grab the bottle, it only just hits you that the color of the potion is a little off than you remember. If you remember correctly, verbosity potions are usually a pale yellow color, but this one has a darker and deeper tone. In fact, you could see flecks of red sediment floating around, something that you recognize as wyvern blood.

Hold on… Verbosity potions don’t require wyvern blood. Very few potions require it at all, and the only one you can think of that would need it is none other than—

“Oh fucking shit,” you curse for what feels like the twentieth time in this story. You whip your head to face Seokjin, whose entire upper body seems to be bathed in a deep red flush. He’s panting in earnest now, tongue lolling out as he fights the fever consuming him. Little does he know, it isn’t a regular type of fever that he’ll be able to recover with medicine. You gulp, struggling to find an explanation.

“So, umm…” You laugh hesitantly, rubbing the back of your neck with a wry smile. Seokjin peeks up at you from behind his bangs, some of it plastered to his forehead from sweat. The faraway look in his eyes has disappeared, replaced by an unsettling hunger and darkness that is uncharacteristic for the mischievous hamster shifter. You gulp. “Seokjin, I think I know what you drank and it wasn’t the verbosity potion.”

“What?” he croaks, wincing when he adjusts himself to lean on the kitchen counter. You catch sight of a bulge forming in the front of his pajama shorts, miraculously still unnoticed by Seokjin himself. “Fuck, Y/N. I’m burning up.”

The way he utters your name brings a shiver down your spine, and your familiar notices immediately. His gaze is transfixed on the exposed part of your neck, trailing over your skin until his eyes finally land on your lips. You lick them unconsciously, with Seokjin following the movement.

“Seokjin, I need you to get to bed right now. I don’t know how long this potion is going to last, but I’m gonna need you to—”

“What did you do to me?” Seokjin growls, his grip on the counter tightening to the point that he may have cracked the marble. You know he’s strong despite being a prey shifter, but you didn’t think he’d become this powerful and aggravated. You’re guessing that it might be a side effect from him drinking the potion when he was in his hamster form. He had more or less drunk the dosage required for a regular-sized human, so his smaller body size must have led to a slight overdose. This is all guesswork on your part, but hindsight isn’t going to help you right now.

“I, umm… I think I might have accidentally mislabelled the potion,” you admit reluctantly, feeling meek under his heavy presence. You’ve never felt threatened or intimidated by him before, so this is completely uncharted territory for you. You know deep in your heart that he’d never do anything to hurt you even in his inebriated state, but you would still do well to take all your precautions when approaching him. “I think… I might have given Taehyung the wrong potion, too.”

Seokjin doesn’t respond and just keeps watching you as you fidget in place. You continue, “H-he came over today because he wanted a refill, right? W-well, he actually asked for libido potion. And, so—”

“You gave me horny juice? Is that what’s happening?” Seokjin groans, crossing his legs together when he finally registers the very distinct swelling in his underwear. “Fuck,” he moans, involuntarily humping the air to search for some sort of reprieve.

You scoff, trying to keep your tone as level as possible so as not to alarm him. “What do you mean I gave you horny juice? You’re the one who drank it without permission!” you retort, but the scolding dies on your lips when Seokjin starts to grind against the counter, small gasps leaving his mouth. Your throat goes dry, and you know it’ll only be a few more moments before Seokjin’s limited control will start to slip away.

“Y-Y/N, what do I do?” he whines, giving up on the counter and weakly reaching out for you. “I feel like I’m going to die if I don’t cum right now. I-I need you.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you start, your stomach swirling with arousal. His scent is stronger than usual, filling your senses with nothing but caramel, mint, and Seokjin. Even as you’re talking, you feel your resolve chipping away despite your better judgment. “You’re not thinking properly right now, and I don’t wanna take advantage of you—”

“N-no! I want it, no, I want you. I’ve always wanted you,” he pants, taking the two short steps to latch his hands on your waist. You flinch when you feel his large palms touch you, the heat palpable even through your clothes. Even with lust clouding his vision, he is gentle with you, like he’s afraid of hurting you. “I-I know you must think I’m a nuisance, and I’ve done n-nothing but annoy you these past few months, but I… I genuinely care about you a lot, Y/N. W-which is why I was so hurt when I thought you forgot my birthday, but even if you did, I was j-just happy to be living with you. Because I really lo—”

He gasps, unable to finish his thought as he accidentally tightens his grasp on you. He pulls you closer until your bodies are aligned, nuzzling into your neck. His teeth scrape your skin slightly, pulling a loud moan from you. You flush, embarrassed, but you have no time to worry about that when you feel how incredibly hard and solid he is against your stomach.

“P-please, help me? It doesn’t have to mean anything; we can forget about it after but right now, I don’t think I’m going to live past tomorrow unless I have my cock stuffing your pussy right this very moment,” he says in one breath, his hands reaching behind you to squeeze your ass. He inhales deeply, releasing it with a content sigh. “Fuck, I can already smell how wet you are. I just know my cock will stretch it out real good, just like how I always dreamed.”

“You… you dreamt of me like that?” you whisper, shocked. You don’t know why your brain latches onto that piece of information out of all the filthy things he just said, but you have to admit that the thought of him having wet dreams about you turns you on greatly.

“Are you kidding me? Have you seen yourself?” He sounds incredulous, like you’d just said something completely unfathomable to him. “Fuck, do you remember when I got my rut two months ago, and I stayed with Namjoon and Yoongi so that you wouldn’t feel awkward around me? They love to tease me about the number of times I moaned your name every time I came,” he admits. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you even if I tried.”

“Fuck, Seokjinnie,” you whine, your fingers scrambling to hang onto his chest, his back, his neck—anywhere, really. Your legs feel like jelly, afraid that you might stumble from how weak you’ve become from your own arousal. “Why didn’t you say anything before now?”

“I’m sorry I had to confess this way,” he says, caressing your hair with unexpected tenderness. He chuckles quietly, his breath tickling your neck. “But I really mean it, horny juice or not.”

Your heart squeezes inside your chest, not believing your lucky stars for allowing you to meet this wonderful boy in front of you. You can hardly believe your ears; never in your wildest dreams would you ever expect that he would also like you back.

“Seokjin, I also—” you begin, ready to spill your feelings all over the floor, but the moment is broken when Seokjin abruptly lifts you by the ass, his palms squeezing you as he barrels determinedly to his bedroom. You shriek in surprise, clutching onto his neck and holding on for dear life. “What the fuck? Seokjin, put me down!”

“No time for feelings! We can talk after we fuck,” he hoots, bouncing you onto the bed. You grunt from the impact, disoriented by the quick turn of events. Your head is spinning, so you don’t even register Seokjin’s hands peeling off your pants in one smooth motion.

A mixture of the cold air and nerves causes your legs to be littered with goosebumps. Seokjin, ever the attentive familiar, notices and rubs soothing circles all over, the heat inside of you coming back with a vengeance. “Sorry about that, baby,” he coos, massaging you. You shake your head, telling him it’s alright.

You are embarrassed when you feel how your panties stick uncomfortably against your skin, already so painfully aroused as if you had been the one affected by the potion. Your shame melts away when you see how much worse Seokjin is, however, as his nostrils flare with want. 

“I’m glad my nose still works, by the way. I don’t know what I’d do if I missed the opportunity to smell your pretty pussy,” he sighs, situating himself in between your legs. He blows gently against your clothed slit, effectively causing all coherency to leave you for the night.

He watches your reactions slyly, his body heat radiating off of him in waves. For once, he looks more like predator than prey. “I know I said I was desperate to fuck you, but do you mind if I start with an appetizer first? I wanted cake today, but turns out my dessert was here all along…” he trails off, smirking when he catches the steadily growing spot on your underwear. “Oh, baby. I know you’re going to be the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“I-I,” you stutter, shuddering with desire. You whimper pathetically as he traces your panties with a fingernail, your stomach clenching with desire. “I didn’t know you could be like this.”

“Like what?” he hums, pulling your panties off to join your discarded pants. He grins at the sight of your glistening core, wetting his lips in anticipation. “God, you’re so pretty. I could just eat you up.”

“Then why don’t you?” you reply, trying to gain some semblance of control. That silly notion is thrown out the window, however, the moment Seokjin licks a fat stripe up your cunt. “Ngnnhh, fuck!”

Seokjin moans in tandem with you, slurping you up like a starved man. “Baby, you’re just as good as I thought. I could cum from eating you out alone.” He takes a deep breath, kissing your core almost chastely. “Fuck, I know I could cum from this alone,” he amends, rubbing his clothed length against the bed sheets.

The velvety wet heat of his tongue on your dripping pussy makes you clench around nothing, ripping a scream out of you when he focuses directly on your clit. He sucks with an obscene grin on his face, holding your hips down when your entire body begins to tremble.

“So sensitive,” Seokjin says, sluggish and gravelly like he’s drunk on your taste. “So fucking sensitive. How are you real, baby?”

“Jinnie, please,” you whine, doing your best to grind on his tongue despite his iron hold on you. “I want more, please.”

Seokjin only chuckles darkly, continuing his vicious pace. “C’mon, use my tongue like you want,” he says, letting go of you and allowing you to hump his mouth with reckless abandon.

You do as he says, swirling your hips against him with reckless abandon. The heat in your abdomen steadily builds, and you know you’re only seconds away from tipping over. “I’m close, Seokjin,” you huff, chasing your high. “Please, let me cum? Can I cum, Seokjinnie?”

He nods his head, unable to respond verbally as you continue to assault his tongue. After three more licks, you release with a silent scream, writhing violently from the strength of it. 

He gives your clit one last sweet peck, sitting up with a feral grin on his face. His chin is dripping with your arousal, his plump lips redder than usual. He makes a show of licking your juices around his mouth, chuckling when all you can do is swallow wantonly.

“Thank you for the meal, baby,” he teases, his lust-riddled gaze slightly clearer now that he’s had a proper taste of you. However, the glaring tent in his shorts is still painfully present, a small darkened patch visible on his crotch.

“Wan’ your cock,” you slur, boneless and blissed out but still filled with the longing for more. “Fill my cunnie until I can’t walk anymore,” you croak, pussy twitching for extra measure. Seokjin’s expression twists, his pupils widening until his eyes are pitch black.

Seokjin doesn’t waste any more time. He rips his shorts off in record time, stripping himself of his shirt as well. You remove your own shirt and bra, causing your nipples to harden from the cold air. You tweak them as you wait for Seokjin to get himself situated, hungrily appreciating his beautiful torso and god-like shoulders. “Don’t use a condom, Jinnie. I want to feel all of you,” you say when he begins to reach inside his dresser. You can physically feel his unhinged desire growing from your words, your pussy dripping in anticipation.

“Gonna fill your pretty pussy, huh? Fill you until you have my babies?” he rasps, positioning his cock in front of you. “Gonna plug you up with my cum, Y/N? Is that what you want?”

You cant your hips upward, whining when his tip only just grazes your lips teasingly. “Fuck me already,” you beg. “Want you to ruin me.”

“Who am I to deny you? Ask and you shall receive,” he grins, before slowly pushing inside. Your jaw drops at the intrusion, as it’s been a while since you’ve last gotten fucked like this. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Almost like your pussy is sucking me in,” he groans, straining to keep himself from thrusting all the way into you. “Like you’re made for me.”

“You can m-move faster. I can take it,” you whisper, eyebrows pulling together. You sound desperate to your own ears, the pain and pleasure mixing deliciously and making your cunt weep with want. 

There is a moment of hesitation on Seokjin’s part, but that all drains away when he sees your determination. Without another warning, he shoves himself up to the hilt, causing you to arch your back with a loud cry.

“Fuck,” he curses, but there is still worry in his eyes. “Baby, are okay? Are you good?”

It takes you a moment to remember how to speak. “C’mon, Seokjin. Move. I can take it,” you beg. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he moans, but nods his head anyway.

Seokjin pulls back until only his tip remains inside you before slamming back harshly, hard enough that you’re sliding backward. He begins his brutal pace, his dick stretching you out nicely like he promised. You let out tiny squeaks with every pump of cock, hitting you perfectly in the spot that makes you see stars.

“Kiss me?” you gasp out in between moans, pulling him by the hair until you’re kissing him sloppily. It’s more teeth than anything, as Seokjin grunts into your mouth with every tug of his roots. You bite his bottom lip after a particularly rough thrust, but it only encourages him to pick up the pace.

You wrap your legs around his torso, pulling him as close as humanly possible. You can already feel your second orgasm approaching rapidly, your toes curling in anticipation.

“Seokjinnie, I’m gonna cum soon. Please, I can’t hold it—”

“I’m close too,” he says hotly in your ear. He sucks a bruise into your neck, moaning when he feels your pussy tighten in response. He drills into your cunt faster, the rhythm of his thrusts growing sloppy as he reaches his own release. He reaches down between the two of you, rubbing circles into your clit. “Fuck, baby. Cum with me?”

You sob his name, your muscles contracting as your body lights up with intense pleasure. Your back arches off the bed, your walls milking Seokjin dry until thick white ropes of cum start leaking in rivulets down your sopping cunt and all over your thighs. You can feel his throbbing length inside you as continuous streams of hot seed keep flowing from him, filling you to the brim.

Seokjin slowly comes to a complete halt, but he still hasn’t pulled out. “I’m gonna keep my cum in you for a moment, okay? Don’t wanna waste any of it, right?”

You can only nod tiredly in agreement, completely tuckered out. Your chest heaves from your laboured breathing, but the smile on your face can only be described as content. “Wow. Color me surprised. Didn’t think you’d wanna be a father so early,” you say hoarsely.

Now sated, Seokjin’s demeanor returns to its normal state, his aura less crazed than before. He has the decency to look embarrassed, but the twinkle in his eyes shows that he doesn’t regret it in the slightest. “I’d be more than happy to be the father of your children. We’re already going to live with each other forever, so I might as well raise your children anyway.”

“Might as well?” you laugh, pressing a soft kiss on the corner of his lips. “You make it sound like it’s your obligation. And who said I’d live with you forever?”

“Well, I mean, who else is going to love you the way that I do?” he murmurs, nuzzling your noses together. “Who else would be your annoyingly handsome hamster familiar?”

“Quite,” you grumble, allowing him to maneuver you into a more comfortable cuddling position. You kiss him properly this time, enjoying the sweet, warm pleasure of his affection. You’ve never felt so happy in your life. “Happy birthday, Seokjin. I’m sorry this isn’t the way I planned for it to go, but I honestly wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Agreed. It’s just like us, huh?” he snorts. He cushions your face against his chest, carding his fingers tenderly through your hair. “Say… Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“Tell me, what does your pink hair actually mean?”

You chuckle, snuggling deeper into his comforting scent. You feel yourself slipping into slumber, eyelids threatening to fall. You’ve always loved cuddling Seokjin, after all. But most of all... 

I love you, of course. “I think you already know, genius.”

Even when the sun finishes its descent from the sky and darkness fills the room, the bright pink of your hair glows—unfaltering.

[officialleehadan]

Crafter to Fly

Today's story was brought to you by Brandon! Thank you so much for all your support, darling! It really does mean the world to me!

Prompt: Star Light Star Bright

+++

Nobody was supposed to be touching the Wonder.

It wasn’t that Tallulah was territorial about the ship, although she was, it was that the ship was in a profound state of deconstruction, and more than half of it was held together by unfinished stardust. It was something of a death trap for anyone who wasn’t already a starworker, and she didn’t want some poor engineer to get hurt.

All things considered, however, she thought they would probably come out ahead. There were smudges of orange stardust on parts of the engine. Tiny and barely-there, they felt like a desert, like deep, dangerous water, like the heat of a place where the earth was old and new at the same time.

But the desert was not Yaz’s, the water was not Greta’s, and none of them knew the heat of new, bubbling stone.

“Our Crafter has woken,” she told the others when they met for breakfast. “I haven’t seen her. She’s fast and clever, and good at not being caught.”

“How do you know it’s her?” Rema had asked curiously. As the newest of their family, the Flame was still coming into her power. “I didn’t feel her.”

‘None of us did. I wonder if she’s trying to hide,” Li Hua mused. She let green stardust scales ripple over her skin, and then blew them off in the form of pear blossoms. As always, she wore a crown of flowers, with just the hint of dragon horns woven in. “It’s even possible that she doesn’t know what she is.”

“I think we may have to set a trap for her,” Greta said mischievously with the cleverness of Thought and Memory in her eyes like a glittering blue promise. “Is she the one who fixed the engines? Rema, didn’t you say it was odd?”

“I thought maybe Tallulah and Yaz did it,” Rema had told them. “The stardust was orange like lava and sunset. I figured you did it together.”

“Not us,” Yaz said, and sat back to think. “Alright, sisters. Time to catch our Crafter. What do we know about her?”

+

It took two days of planning and a cunningly-designed bait in the form of a difficult engineering problem. Yaz and Rema made themselves conspicuous among the engineers, loudly complaining of the impossible problem, and complaining of their own inability. Most of the help they received was useful, but none of it was of the starlight. Their Crafter was either smart enough to see their trap for what it was, or she wasn’t there to hear about it.

Tallulah followed the smudges, barely-there against the yellow-gold of her own and Yaz’s deep red. They glimmered orange, blended so seamlessly into the ship’s metal that it took all her skill to find it, but when she did, she couldn’t help but be impressed.

Here and there were masterwork changes, most often tiny and subtle, but flawless. Their Crafter knew her work well. Tallulah couldn’t wait to meet her.

In the end, it was an accident on all parts that led to the capture of their Crafter.

Tallulah had just about given up on their trap, and was instead on top of the ship with a sketchbook in her hands. Grandmother said it was always good to send time with a new canoe, to let it learn your spirit. The Wonderwas rather bigger than the canoes of home, but Tallulah thought the same principles applied. After all, the Wonderwould carry them to the stars. The least she could do was share company with their ship.

Greta, another daughter of a seagoing people, was asleep on the metal panels with her head in Li Hua’s lap as their Healer read, a data padd balanced on their Sailor’s forehead. Yaz wasawake, but she was weaving Rema’s hair into a thick braid, decorated by long golden chains and deep purple ribbons.

At the faint sound of footsteps, Tallulah sat up, but held her finger to her lips to keep her sisters from rousing too quickly. Soon after, there was a soft clink of metal, and the Wondershook with the weight of someone moving about inside her unfinished bulk.

Their Crafter could never resist the challenge of a difficult problem and a ship that was meant to take her into the sky.

Together, Tallulah stood with her sisters. One by one, they leapt down from the Wonder’s hull, carried by the wings of their legends, to land on the hanger floor. The faintest light came from within their ship, the pale orange of the small hand-lights the engineers used.

“No wonder she doesn’t know who she is,” Yaz realized in a whisper. “Look at the light. She can’t see her own starlight.”

“We should be grateful, it let us find her,” Li Hua whispered back. She linked hands with Yaz, and together their red-green light crept over the ship. “Now to make sure she does not flee us before we’ve time to learn her name.”

From somewhere inside the ship, there was a squawk of alarm as their Crafter suddenly realized she wasn’t alone. Soon after, there was the crash of someone dropping what sounded like most of a tool bag. Soon after that, there was a great deal of what could only be profanity, although Tallulah didn’t know the language.

“You can come out, sister,” Li Hua called into the gloom. “Dear one, you’re not in any trouble.”

There was another rattle from inside the ship, but after a minute, punctuated by another crash and the sound of someone getting tangled in the dangling wires, their Crafter emerged.

She was tall, with inky dark skin and brightly-colored glass beads in her tightly-braided hair. She wore a bright set of engineer’s coveralls, and carried a heavy bag of tools in one hand.

Tallulah didn’t think she noticed the deep orange stardust that lingered on the Wonder whenever their sister let her fingers touch the ship.

“I’m sorry, it was just so pretty,” she said before Tallulah or any of their other sisters could speak. “And I heard- I heard you were having problems with the accelerator, and I know how to fix that if you just give me a little time and maybe if you don’t report me to Commander Oko?”

“Oh, sweet sister,” Yaz started to laugh in the middle of the frantic sentence and stepped forward to bring the young engineer into their group. “There will be a report to Oko, but I think it will please you. After all, our Crafter should have full reach over our ship, should she not?”

“Wait,” the engineer said, and pulled away. She didn’t get far before Li Hua was there with a reassuring smile. “You think I’m like you? No way. I don’t have any of the whatever-it-is. I’m not special.”

“Neither was I, until the stars woke for me,” Rema told her, and took one of their Crafter’s hands in hers. Orange light woke to meet Rema’s purple when she pressed their palms together. “What is your name, Crafter? And who are your people?”

“Thabisa,” their Crafter named herself to their group. Tallulah rolled the name over her tongue and felt it take root in her heart where it belonged. “My people are Zulu… and I think I know how to fix your ship.”

“Our ship,” Tallulah corrected her warmly, yellow-gold of one ancient people meeting deep orange of another when they clasped hands. “Come, sister. Show us how you’ve solved our problem, and we will teach you of the stars.”

+++

Star Light Star Bright:

Three woman took to the stars. Three women learned that the Stars hold secrets of their own that humanity has yet to rediscover.

Call the Stars

Our Legends True

Little Fish (Free on Patreon!)

Wings and Wings and Wings

The Bones of a Ship

Pear Blossoms (Free on Patreon!)

Beacon Calling

Build the Wings

+++

More Stories!

+++

[ruewrites]

As a request-Maybe some fluffy/chaotic Solodeus dealing with Cultural Differences between the Human World and the Devildom? I feel like somethings that are normal for us would be strange or not as well known for demons 👁👁

Humans are Odd

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmo

Word Count: 1502

Warnings: None

A/N: It took me a while to come up with something for this (and I had to confer with a couple other people for ideas) but I had a fun time making this cute little one shot! I hope you enjoy it!

Spending an entire week up in the human world had been something Asmo had been looking forward to. He’s had his bags packed for weeks now, and he could barely focus on studying for his exams. Usually he just had to suffer through breaks missing his boyfriend and sulking around the Devildom and waiting for Solomon to summon him for tiny amounts of time. But Solomon was inviting him to stay up at his place for a week! No brothers, just him and his boyfriend. 

Oh it was going to be a beautiful week! Especially when Asmo didn’t get to see the human world very much. Yes, he’d been up there a few times, but not to explore. Usually Solomon would summon him up for help with work or for small amounts of cuddle time… or even a little more than cuddle time.

Solomon’s laughter filled his ears before the smoke even cleared. Asmo had dropped his bags and ran to him, throwing his arms around him and kissing him all over. His wings fluttered with excitement, Solomon’s fingertips dancing close to where they sprouted from his back, making Asmo shutter. He only receded his demon form in order to nuzzle underneath Solomon’s chin. 

“I’m happy to see you too Asmodeus,” Solomon smiled, pecking the top of his head before pulling Asmo closer. His arms were wrapped firmly around his waist.

Oh this was lovely. 

“Now,” Solomon pulled away, a smile wide on his face, “How about we get you inside? I can get your bags.”

“Oh what a perfect gentleman,” Asmo giggled, “I’ll carry my soaps in though, I was thinking about getting a shower before we went out. Just to get the smoke out of my hair.” 

“Of course my dear.”

They sat his bags down on one side of Solomon’s bed, and Asmo couldn’t help but let himself fall over, while taking Solomon with him. Who could blame him? He was happy to see his boyfriend! And it had been a while since they’d had a nice, uninterrupted, makeout session together. He was going to redo his makeup anyways, so he could afford to mess it up a little.

When he finally managed to untangle himself from his boyfriend, he grabbed his things and sauntered into the bathroom. Then he stopped. He blinked a few times and scrunched up his nose. This didn’t seem right.

“Solomon baby,” he asked, “Am I in the right bathroom?”

“Yeah. That’s the right one. What’s wrong? Do you need help?”

Was he serious? No. This had to be some sort of magic trick. Whatever was going on was making things smaller than they actually were. There was no way Solomon’s bathroom was this small. 

“This...This is it?” he asked.

Asmo could hear Solomon chuckling from the bed, “Bathrooms here won’t be as big as what you’re used to Dearest, but it can still fit two people.”

The bathroom his brothers shared in Lamentation was bigger than this. Well, perhaps he could make do… Although he would definitely talk to Solomon about getting a bigger bathroom. It also made a little more sense now why Solomon was so surprised when he first saw his bathroom. 

With a sigh Asmo started undoing  his clothes and preparing his shower.

******

“So this place is nice?” Asmo asked, snuggling closer to Solomon’s arm. It was nice out and Solomon promised that their first day together would be something Asmo loved.  Asmo almost cried out of relief when Solomon told him that he’d be taking him out instead of cooking for the two of them. Apparently Simeon had suggested that Solomon treat him (Asmo would certainly be sending him a gift basket as a thank you). 

Solomon smiled and nodded, “Very nice. I think you’ll like it. I’ve come here with a few friends before.” He opened the door with his free hand and ushered Asmo in. The setup reminded him of Ristorante SIx a bit, in short, Asmo  did like it. Solomon knew how to treat him right. Even before they got together Solomon made sure Asmo was kept happy. After all, a happy pact was a strong pact and the more in sync they were the more powerful they could be.

“Smith. Table for 2?”

Asmo’s head snapped up in confusion. He turned to look at Solomon and continued to stare all the way until they were seated at a table in the corner. Their table had a covered candle in the center with flowers surrounding it. It was cute and not something that every table had, so he assumed Solomon asked for the arrangement.

“Smith?” Asmo asked once they were alone again.

Solomon set his drink down, “Last names are common up here, I change mine up every now and again as years go by.”

“Why?”

“It’s a human thing.”

“And you chose Smith.”

“It’s common and easy to remember.”

Asmo shook his head and started to pick up the menu, “Why would so many humans choose the same plain last name?”

“Most people don’t really get a choice in the matter dear.”

“Well I certainly hope you don’t expect me to use it too,” Asmo mused, “If I have to choose a second name, I’m going with something fancy and lovely just like me.”

He still didn’t get this ‘last name’ business, it seemed odd to him, but if it eventually came to it he supposed he wouldn’t mind having one.

However, Asmo quickly ran into yet another thing that he didn’t quite understand. He tried to focus in on the menu again, eyes squinting and blinking as he attempted to process what was before him. He didn’t know what any of this was. These flavors and words weren’t things that Asmo was familiar with. It was so different from the Devildom. Some of the items had pictures sure, but Asmo wanted to know what he was getting. What if it looked good but it was awful? What if Asmo hated it? He didn’t want to not eat something when Solomon took the time to take him here. 

He looked back up at Solomon who met his eyes. His brow furrowed and he set his menu down, “Something wrong?”

Asmo could feel himself blushing ever so slightly as he looked back down. “I don’t know what any of this stuff is.”

Solomon’s face softened and he scooted closer, leaning over Asmo’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I think I know what you’ll like,” he said glancing over the menu, “You helped me figure out my way around the Devildom, now I’m here so help introduce you to all things human.”

He poked Asmo’s nose and he couldn’t help but snort and lean into his boyfriend. As long as he had him, Asmo honestly believed that he could live in any realm. 

“Now,” Solomon started, “The only question is what type of food are you hungry for?” 

******

There was one last stop before they went back to Solomon’s place. Other buildings disappeared as Solomon led him to the outskirts. The grass was a deep shade of green and wild flowers were scattered everywhere. Puffy clouds  moved slowly in the bright blue sky  and leaves on trees swayed in the light breeze. 

Solomon plopped himself down before patting the spot next to his side. Asmo sat down next to him before squeaking in surprise as Solomon pulled him down onto the ground. 

“Solomon-!”

“Relax,” Solomon murmured, allowing some magic to flow past his lips. He led Asmo��s head to his chest and stroked his hair going down to his back where his wings would be. Asmo could feel his eyes fluttering, but some worry still had a grip on him.

“Aren’t you worried about being attacked?” he asked, “What if something comes out of nowhere?”

Solomon kissed his head and smiled, “You have no need to worry my dear, trust me.” 

Asmo relaxed a little more. He didn’t get to do this often in the Devildom with Solomon. Yes there were pretty places, but getting to relax like this? With his guard down? Another shudder ran through him as Solomon’s hand moved against his back. This day had been so odd. Tiny showers, last names, the food, it was all so different to Asmo.

Humans were odd.

His human was especially odd.

But he loved him so incredibly much.

“You know, sometimes humans get to share a last name when they really like each other,” Solomon hummed, sending a vibration through his chest that Asmo loved, “And if you wanted a fancy last name, I could probably find something that you might like.”

Asmo glanced up at the sky for a moment in thought. The clouds made such interesting shapes, and they were so calming. If Asmo wasn’t worried about getting caught and getting in trouble, he’d probably let his wings out  and stretch a little bit. He closed his eyes and snuggled back into Solomon’s chest, a smile blooming across his lips.

“I think I’d like that.”

[thr-333]

Mismatch- Part 3

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Ah Irony, I trust this wont be the last I’m seeing of you

First < Previous > Next

----

‘Sorry, Nino told Adrien that you guys said to go ahead!?’ Chloe explained.

“Looks like Liela’s at it again,” Marion tells Marinette.

“Of course she is,” Marinette was already hailing a cab

‘Lila must have told Alya who told Nino or something’ Marion responds.

'I am so sorry we’ll come back to get you’  

‘Dont worry bout it we’re getting a cab’

‘Dont let kags kill anyone’ He adds

‘No promises’

Marinette grabs Marion by the arm, dragging him over to a cab. Just as she's about to climb in someone grabs her, arm pulling her away. Reflexes kick in and she makes a jab at their stomach. They block her punch, but let go of her arm. Marinette looks up to see a black haired blue eyed boy who couldn't be any older than them.

“This isn’t a real cab,” He explains quickly, taking his phone out to snap a picture of the stunned driver.

“Oh? Oh!” Marinette processes, realising she just tried to punch him for helping her, “I am so sorry!”

“It’s ok, good reflexes,” He compliments, they step away from the cab as it speeds away, “I’m Tim,”

“Marinette,” She shakes his offered hand, “This is Marion,”

“Hi, thanks for that,” Marion nods towards where the ‘taxi’ was, “How could you tell?”

“You live around here long enough you learn to spot them,” Tim answers, “are you two french?”

“Yep,” Marinette chirped, “We’re on a class trip,”

“Where’s your class?” Tim frowns looking around.

“Ummm… they kinda….” Marinette looked down at her shoes.

“Left us,” Marion finishes for her.

“They left you? In Gotham?” Tim asks, the twins nod avoiding eye contact.

“Where are you staying? I’ll drive you there,” Tim decides.

“You don’t have to do that!” Marinette gestures wildly, wide eyed.

“We’ll be fine on our own,” Marion adds, because yes they did almost get in a fake cab, but it wasn't as if they couldn't have dealt with it.

“It’s all right,” Tim tells them, scanning the cars around, “Look my rides here,”

The twins turn to see a limo pull up, a well dressed driver steps out of the vehicle.

“Good Evening Master Tim, how was your trip?” He asks, taking Tim’s bag.

“It was fine Alfred,” Tim says, “would you mind if we dropped these two off at their hotel?”

“Not at all, Master Tim, I am Alfred Pennyworth,” Alfred greets the twins, “May I ask your names,”

“Uh, Marion, and this is Marinette,” Marion replies, “You really don’t have to, we’ll be fine,”

“It’s no trouble at all,” He tells them, “Where are you staying?”

“Wayne hotel,” Marinette goes to grab her bags to find them gone, turning to see Alfred already placing it in the trunk.

“Witchcraft,” Marion whispers to her, Marinette nods. She always made sure to at least be touching her backpack, as it held the Miracle box.

“Come in,” Tim offers, already sitting in the Limo.

The twins concede climbing in after Tim a little awkwardly. He had somehow gotten ahold of a travel cup and was holding it like a lifeline.

“I’m surprised you're staying at the Wayne hotel for a class trip,” Tim takes a gulp of the probably scalding hot coffee.

“Marinette submitted an amazing essay to the Wayne Foundation and won the trip for the whole class,” Marion dodges her kick, Tim hides his smirk behind his cup.

"We submitted an essay,” Marinette corrects, glaring at Marion for shaking his head.

“Thank you for the ride,” Marion changes the topic.

“No problem, I really don’t mind, the longer I stay away from the manor the better,” Tim replies sleepily.

“Why's that?” Marinette questions, concern written all over her face.

“Loud, too many siblings” Tim quickly clarified, “I need more time with my coffee before I deal with them,”

“I think I can relate,” Marion mutters, ignoring Marinette's look, “How many siblings do you have?”

“Officially? Thr-Two brothers,”

“Unofficially?” Marinette prods.

“Feels like half of Gotham most the time,” Tim sighs, making them chuckle.

“You two must be twins?” Tim guesses.

“Unfortunately,” Marinette sighs.

“You love me,” Marion scoffs.

“Unfortunately,” Marinette repeats, Tim cracks a smile.

“If it's any consolation you seem to get on much better than I do with my siblings,” Tim takes another long sip from his coffee.

“If it’s any consolation we’re always fighting,” Marion parrots, sharing a knowing glance with Marinette. Fighting? Yes. Fighting each other? Only when Chat Noir gets brainwashed.

“So what are you looking forward to in Gotham?” Tim asks.

“Lots of things,” Marinette and Marion start to tell Tim all about their(civilian) plans. Tim suggests places every now and then, he points out the hotel as they start to get closer.

“Ah!” Marinette exclaims, turning to Marion, “We were meant to check in as a class, will they even let us in?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they do,” Tim assures them. When they pull up at the hotel Alfred opens the door and Tim gets out with them.

“Thank you so much,” Marinette takes her bags from Alfred, giving him a smile.

“You’re welcome Miss,” Alfred smiles back.

Marion also gives his thanks and they follow Tim into the building. Marinette admires the architecture, brainstorming ideas for designs. Perhaps she can make improvements to the outfits they’ll be using at the concert. Tim goes straight to the front desk and explains the situation. The receptionists hands over the room keys, telling them their classmates had already grouped up, three to a room.

“That was surprisingly easy,” Marion muses, as they walk towards the elevator, “Thank you,”

“My pleasure,” Tim answers easily, as they step into the elevator, “I must be off,”

They give their goodbyes, letting the doors close as Tim walks away.

“He was nice,” Marinette hums in agreement.

“Hopefully there's more people in Gotham like him,” They step out of the elevator.

“There will be,” Marion assures, “Meet back here when they go to sleep?”

“No, I’ll text you when everyones asleep and you can teleport in,” Marion nods, both know Kaalki won’t be impressed.

They go their separate ways. Marinette knocked on the room door that was opened a few moments later by Kagami.

“I am sorry,” Kagami immediately apologizes, “I should have known better and asked you myself,”

“Don’t worry, we’re fine,” Marinette gives the girl a hug, rolling her suitcase into the room.

“Marinette, you need to see this place, although it’s as good as daddys hotel,” Chloe grabs her by the arm. Leading her through the well furnished and decorated living room with a kitchenette to the side.

“You do live in the penthouse suite,” Marinette looked out the floor to ceiling window, displaying the view of the city, itching to grab her sketchbook.

“True, but they didn’t put me in the penthouse, so it's their loss,” Chloe guides her to a room with a large bed, bedside tables with flowers on them and a mirrored closet door. “This is yours,”

Marinette went to grab her suitcase only to see Kagami behind them with it. She thanked her and got settled in. Once she was unpacked they sat together in the living room to talk about tomorrow.

“You’d better not go wandering off, Gotham is dangerous,” Chloe wagged her finger at Marinette.

“And you’re going to protect me?” Marinette threw a couch cushion at her.

“Well, duh, I was Queen Bee,” Chloe bragged, catching the cushion and throwing it right back.

“For, like, month, years ago,” Marinette caught the pillow, sending it to Kagami, “Weren’t you replaced with Bumble Bee?”

“It was a mutual decision,” Chloe caught the pillow that Kagami hesitantly threw to her.

“Right,” Marinette said in a disbelieving tone, knowing full well that Bumble Bee was just Chloe’s new alias. “I think I’d rather stick with Kagami,”

“Rude,” Chloe threw the pillow at her.

“Didn’t we all agree Kagami was as good as any bodyguard?” Marinette asks, throwing the pillow to said girl.

“Excuse you, we said she was better than any bodyguard,” Both gave her inquisitive looks, “What? I’m just stating facts!”

“Of course,” Marinette caught the pillow, still smiling.

“I am!”

“I believe you,” Marinette threw the pillow back at her.

“No you don’t!” Chloe throws the pillow forcefully at her.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Marinette chucks the pillow to Kagami.

“You’re infuriating Dupain-cheng,” Chloe huffs, catching the pillow from Kagami.

“I can show you some… moves,” Kagami hesitantly speaks up, as Chloe throws the pillow at Marinette, “For self defence,”

“Sure,” Marinette puts the pillow down, standing up with Kagami.

They spent the next half hour with Kagami instructing Marinette on basic fencing moves. With the cardboard wrapping of the now empty Toblerone block.

“Where is she going to get a sword?” Chloe was scrolling through her phone, “Unless you want her to carry that around everywhere,”

“What do you suggest?” Kagami challenges defensively.

“Like this,” Chloe takes over, showing both Marinette and Kagami how to break out of certain holds to get their arm free or how to disarm an opponent.

“Where did you learn this?” Marinette watches as Kagami practices the motions of disarming Chloe's hairbrush gun.

“I told you, I was Queen Bee and I took that job seriously,” Chloe drops the hairbrush, Kagami kicking it away.

“Didn’t you tell all of Paris your identity and then send a train out of control,” Kagami asks, retrieving the hairbrush.

“I was young and naive,” Chloe sighs dramatically, had to her forehead.

“Three years ago?” Marinette stands up to try and disarm Chloe now.

“Four actually,”

“Oh, my mistake,” Marinette rolls her eyes trying not to disarm Chloe too quickly.

They carry on a little longer before Marinette sends them to bed.

“We have an early day tomorrow, we don’t want to be late,” She pushes Chloe towards her room.

“Coming from you? That’s rich,” Chloe laughs.

“Whatever, go to sleep,” Marinette closes the door on Chloe's protests.

“Goodnight Marinette,” Kagami nods, walking to her room without a fuss.

Marinette goes to her room, firing Marion a text.

“Alright dude,” Nino turns to Marion, “I’m with Alya, we all know who Adrien has a crush on-”

“Everyone!?” Adrien sits up from where he’s lying on the couch.

“Yes, everyone,” Nino deadpans.

“What about Marinette?” Adrien turns pleading eyes to Marion.

“Oh not Marinette, she's as clueless as you,”

“What’s that meant to mean?” Adrien frowns defensively.

“Anyway,” Nino interrupts, “Dude, who do you have a crush on?”

“Ummmm,” Marion shifts uncomfortably from where he’s perched on the couches arm rest, “... It’s sort of a celebrity crush,”

“Oh? who?” apparently that was not the answer that would make him lose interest.

“It’s not really important, not like anything could happen,” Marion looks at Adrien for help, but he seems just as curious as Nino.

“Just tell us,” Nino pushes.

“It’s a hero,” Marion immediately realises that just got them more interested. “... From Gotham,”

“Batman?” Adrien guesses.

“No!” Marion shouts, “No! He’s old enough to be my dad, geez,”

“Alright, alright, who is it?” Nino placates leaning forward on his arm chair.

“..... Red hood,”

“Isn’t he a rouge?” Adrien asks.

“No!.... Maybe, he’s still a hero ok?” Marion curls up defensively.

“Why do you like him?” Adrien is grinning, shifting closer to Marion.

“I don’t know,” Marion rolls off the armrest, onto the couch next to him.

“You have to like something,” Nino gets up to sit on his other side.

“I don’t know, maybe because he looks good in his suit?!” Marion shouts.

“You’re not that shallow,” Adrien pokes him in the stomach.

“Ugh, fine,” Marion relents, “He works with Batman right?”

They both nod.

“He’s just so unlike everyone else he works with, I just kinda…. admire how he can just be…. be himself.” Marion curls up under his friend's stares.

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” Adrien teases, Marion huffs.

“He does look good in his suit though,”

“Wait a minute, is this why you always wear that MDC outfit?” Nino is clearly holding back laughter.

“No!” Marion bushes at the memory.

They were doing a practice interview about his newest song. Marinette had designed his outfit based on Red Hood's. It was something he had endured endless teasing over as he insisted everything had to be perfect, not that the great MDC would make anything less.

“Were there any problems that arose from the design MDC?” The interview asked, moving onto the outfit choice.

“We had some minor disagreements about the hood,” Marinette gestured to the outfit Marion was wearing. A red hoodie underneath a faux leather jacket(not that you could tell) on the back there were flying red bats embroidered up the side. He was wearing a black domino mask with red detailing in place of the helmet. It was the outfit they chose to alter into their vigilante costumes.

“She was getting very frustrated over it,” Marion teased, “I told her it didn’t need one,”

“His name is Red Hood! Why doesn't he wear a Hood? Robin wears a hood,”

“He looks cool without it,” Marion defended.

“You’re just saying that, cause you have a crush on him,” Marinette teased in a sing-song voice.

“MD!” He shouted, pulling the hood up to hide his blush, MDC laughing at him, he groaned. “Please tell me the cameras aren't rolling,”

“Don’t worry, nothing we say is being recorded,” The interviewer was luckily professional enough to not laugh, but was certainly amused, “I take it we will be omitting that from the real interview?”

“Yes!”

Unfortunately for him one of the staff members had been secretly recording. They leaked the footage online, getting fired, but not sparing MCD from the whole world finding out. The fanbase had been going crazy ever since they announced their concert in Gotham. Many imagining meet-cute moments or theorising that they were already dating. He shakes his head at the memory.

“I just think it looks cool,” He comes back to the present.

“Because it’s based on your crush?” Adrien teases.

“Nope, you don’t get to tease me about this, I haven't seen you not wearing something Marinette made you in years,” Marion cuts Adrien off with a raised eyebrow, looking down at his Ladybug onesie Marinette made him.

“Fine,” Adrien turns to Nino, “It’s up to you now,”

“Has Marinette made you anything Red Hood related?” Nino grins.

“Nooooo,” Marion moans, draping over the couch.

“Do you have a onesie based on him as well?” Marion finds his saving grace when his pocket buzzes.

“Stooooooooop,”

“Never this is too good,” Nino teases, “Did you bring it with you?”

“That's enough for tonight!” Marion claps his hands, standing up.

“Awwwww,” They both moan in unison.

“Nope! I don’t have to put myself through this, goodnight to you,” Marion walks straight to his room before they can protest further.

He locks the door behind him. Plagg and Kaalki are in the room chatting, they fly over to Marion.

“You ready to go Kaalki?”

“I am not meant to be used for something as trivial as a taxi,” The Kwami complains.

“We just need to grab out suits, this will be the only night, I promise,” The Kwami gives him a nod, “Kaalki full gallop,”

He transforms and opens a portal into Marinette's room.

“Ready Bug?” He asks, stepping into the room. He opens another portal to their room in Paris.

“Of course,” They step through the portal, followed by their Kwami’s, into their room as quietly as possible.

Marion drops his Marinette pulls out their costumes from the closet. They were disguised to look like regular clothing, but could be altered to quickly change.

“I don’t know how you talked me into this,” Marinette takes the hoodie he usually wears, reaching under a secret fold and unzips the hood.

“Come on bug, our hero-selves cant be seen in Gotham, and you know full well we wouldn't stand aside if someone was getting hurt in front of us,” Marion takes the body of the hoodie from her, flipping it inside out to the black side.

“True, but why do we have to do nightly patrols?” Marinette finishes pulling on her leggings, flipping her usual white jumper with a cherry blossom pattern inside out to the same red shade as the hood.

“It would look pretty suspicious if we just showed up when our class was in danger, now wouldn’t it,” Marion fasten the yellow belt around his waist, slipping his baton into the holster and pulls on his on his boots, hopping slightly.

“I think you just want to be a vigilante,” Marinette takes his Red Hood jacket, flipping it inside out to black with yellow trim.

“Well, it’s exciting isn’t it?” Marion takes what would usually be Mainette's skirt, flipping the pink inside out to the green and unzipping it along a black line, “We get to test out our skills without miraculous, and we don't have the fate of the city resting on our shoulders,”

“You could a least try to take it seriously,” Marinette flips her beanie inside out to the black side. Pulling it on after the severed hood, lining the holes up with her eyes and pulling the hood up.

“I am taking this very seriously,” Marion says with the biggest grin. Taking Marinette's infinity scarf, running his hands across it to find the secret fold. Flipping it inside out to a green with yellow and black trim. He pulls it over his head, yellow stripe to his hairline.

“Whatever," Marinette fastens her holster with a baton around her left leg. They both pull on their black gloves. "Lets go,”

Marion transforms back and opens a portal to a rooftop far away from the hotel. They take off across the roofs, using their batons to pole vault across alleys, to land on roofs and fire escapes. As they race, taunting each other, they survey the streets below. Marinette stops, crouching down as Marion catches up. A young woman was being chased by two thugs.

“Let’s go,” She whispers, using the fire escape as a firemans pole. Marion follows suit.

They land in the alley as the girl gets backed up against a wall, clutching her purse. She looks straight at them, Marion gestures her to stay quiet as they sneak up behind the thugs. Marinette takes the one on the right, as he lines up behind the left one. Marinette attacks first hitting the right one over the head with her baton.

“What the-” Marion cuts the left one off by sweeping his legs with his baton, sending him crashing to the ground. He pins them down, tying his wrist together with one hand, “You little fuc-”

Marion stuffs the mans own hat in his mouth. He then ties the crooks legs together for good measure. He looks over to Marinette, her thug unconscious, she was comforting the victim, offering her a cookie from a hidden pocket.

“Thank you,” She takes the cookie hesitantly.

“Not a problem,” Marinette gives her a winning smile.

“Wow, this is really good,” She mumbles, with her mouth full, “Um, who are you,”

“Don't worry about that,” Marion slings his arm around Marinette, "We're just your friendly neighbourhood strays,"

“Ignore him,” Marinette pushes his arm off her, “Do you want us to walk you home?”

“Uh- yeah, thanks,”

“I love your outfit by the way,” Marinette tells her, as they leave the alley way. Marion walks behind calling the police to come pick up the thugs, explaining what happened.

“Hey, can I get your number so the police can get your statement later?” Marion interrupts, as they follow the girl to her apartment.

“Of course,” He hands over the phone, letting her hang up.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” She hands back the phone, Marion walking on her other side.

“We’re new to town,” Marion smiles at her.

“I can tell,” They both give her inquisitive looks, “You’ve smiled more in the last five minutes than most Gothamites do their whole lives,”

“You’re exaggerating,” Marinette chuckles.

“I’m serious, you’re going to blind someone,” She laughs with them.

They walk her to her apartment, holding polite conversation the whole way.

“This is it,” She announces, “Thanks again,”

“No problem,” They both say, turning to leave.

“Wait…. Um,” They both stop looking back at her holding her phone, “Can I get a picture?”

“Of course,” Marion bounces over to her, Marinette taking the other side.

They give the same big smiles they do as Ladybug and Chat Noir. Marion throwing up bunny ears behind Marinette's head. They say goodbye and run off to find someone else to help.

“Whatcha doing Tim?” Dick looks over his shoulder, still in his Nightwing costume fresh from patrol.

“I ran into some French students who were left behind by their class at the airport,” Tim scrolls through a word document, complete with pictures of smiling teens doing a mixture of charity work and sports among other activities. “They won the Martha Wayne educational trip, I was just looking through their entry,”

“They got left behind, in Gotham?”

“That’s what I said! I actually caught them just before they got in a faux taxi,” Tim reaches the end of the rather long essay.

“They could have been mugged, or kidnapped!” Dick slams his hands down on the desk.

“I know , Dick,” Tim rubs his face, “The worst part is they didn’t seem at all surprised about it either,”

Dick leaves Tim to his work to change, muttering to himself.

“Is everything alright, Master Dick?” Alfred appears with food for after patrol.

“What if it happens again?” Dick asks.

“I assume you’re referring to the lovely twins Master Tim met at the airport?” Alfred nods knowingly, Dick nods back. “Well hopefully something similar doesn't happen tomorrow for their tour of Wayne Tower,”

“.... Alfred can you place me in charge of the tour?”

“Consider it done, Master Dick,” Alfred leaves him to get changed.

He finishes changing into regular clothes as the Batmobile pulls in. Batman and Robin exiting.

“We need to discuss security measures for the upcoming concert,” Batman tells the room, they gather around,

“MCD is known for his advocacy of superheroes, so we can expect a few villains to make trouble,” Tim pulls up a picture of MCD with MDC as they walk down the red carpet for some event.

Dick is amused that the picture he pulled up had them in Batman and Robin themed outfits. MDC wearing a beautiful black dress with the bat symbol subtly incorporated into the bodice. Her dress trailed behind in sharp points like Batman’s cape. MCD was wearing a suit with a red shirt, his tie green and some yellow detailing.

“You are going to be professional aren't you?” Damian gives them both pointed looks.

“Whatever are you talking about?” Dick asks innocently.

“You two are always jabbering on about these two,” Robin glares.

“We do not-oh that reminds me, if we’re going to be guarding this event we have to invite Jason,” Dick addresses Bruce.

“He is worse than you two, going on about that interview,” Damian must be rolling his eyes under the domino mask.

“Come on little D. how often does your celebrity crush like you back?” Dick smiles, remembering the night Jason called him yelling in excitement telling him about the leaked footage. He had also asked him to get Tim to find out who leaked the footage and have them fired.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,”

“As for actual security measures,” Batman redirects the conversation.

“Master Jason has arrived,” Alfred reports, coming to stand with them.

“Speak of the devil,” Tim mutters.

“BRUCE YOU MOTHERFUCKER,”Jason bursts into the bat cave, “I need to know these things!”

“We were just talking about the concert,” Dick tells him.

“What? No! Why didn’t you tell me you adopted more!” He yells at Bruce. “I need to know when you’re planning to traumatise more kids!”

“Jason what are you talking about,” Bruce only lets a hint of irritation into his voice.

“THis,” Jason slams down his phone to a screenshot of a tweet. It showed a picture of a boy and girl, both with black hair and blue eyes, following Tim into a limo. Written underneath was;

Wayne Twins? How long has Bruce Wayne been keeping them from Gotham? Are they adopted? Or could the Family resemblance be more than coincidence?

#wayne twins #Bruce Wayne's secret children #aren’t they just adorable

“What is this?” Bruce asks Tim.

“They’re the one who won the Martha Wayne educational trip, their class left them at the airport, I gave them a ride,” Tim briefly explained, noticeably omitting the taxi part.

“Wait so you didn’t adopt them?” Jason picks his phone back up.

“No, Jason, I didn’t,” Jason’s eyes narrow.

“... Are you going to?”

“... No, I’m not,”

“Keep an eye out,” Jason not at all subtly whispers to Dick, “He hesitated,”

“What are we going to do?” Damian cuts their growing argument off.

“We could release a statement?” Tim suggests.

“Drawing attention to it will only fuel the flames, let’s just let it die out,” Bruce decides, getting nods of agreement.

“By the way Jason, we were talking about security measures for the MCD concert,” Dick changes the topic.

“Without me!?”

They go back to making security plans for the concert, including Jason.

“I think we should have someone inside,” Jason looks over the blueprint of the venue.

“Of course you do,” Damian remarks snidely

“You little-”

“Bruce!” Superman's face pops up on the main computer, “You can’t just take in new kids without warning!”

“They aren’t my children,” Bruce clenches his fists, “The pictures with Tim are taken out of context,”

“What? I’m talking about the new Robins-,”

“THE NEW WHAT!” Jason and Damian shout at the same time.

“What are you talking about?” Bruce probably asking that question more times today than he would like.

“Uh, this,” A picture is sent through a screenshot of another tweet that was steadily becoming viral.

The picture had two teens in masks on either side of a civilian, giving the biggest smiles that had probably ever grace Gotham. The boy giving the girl bunny ears. Underneath was written:

Almost got mugged tonight and was saved by these two. Didn't tell me their names. They kinda look like Robin right? Also they gave me a cookie? It was actually good too.

#new Robins #Robin #Batfam #OMG their smile are pure sunshine #send help I might be blind

[tngrace]

Brotherly Comfort

Written for @911lonestarangstweek I used one of the alternate prompts for this because I thought it fit better with the direction of the story.

aided by @moviegeek03 who sent me the prompt list and encouraged the muse after the promo was released. your encouragement for all my writing means the world.  💙

@justkillingtimewhileiwait who always listens to my writing rambles and who was & is the angst queen to my fluff. Thanks boo for helping work out the opening to this. 

Spoilers for S2 E8 finale; not really speculation because I don’t think the show would go this direction, but it is set in S2 E9 timeline. I just wanted some more TK comforting Judd because we know that’s going to happen once TK learns what happens. 

Read on A03; my 911 LS masterlist. 

Judd can feel the discharge nurse judging him with her eyes, even though his head is bent over the forms as he hurriedly scrawls his name at the bottom. It took too damn long, over twenty-four hours, to argue with the doctors about setting him free from the jail that was the damn hospital bed. All he wants, no, all he needs, is to get to Grace. He knows what the doctors said about her condition but he needs to see her for himself. 

He grabs the clothes Owen had dropped off for him, and even though it's painful, he changes and heads up a few floors to the ICU ward. His mind is still struggling to wrap around the fact that his precious Gracie is in the ICU on a ventilator. He thought he'd gotten her above water soon enough. He'd done all he could to make sure he got her out of the truck. 

He takes a shuddering breath, trying to shake those thoughts off as he gets off the elevator. He's slow moving with his own injuries, but he finds the nurses station, and they let him back into her room. His breath catches when he sees her. Tears sting his eyes as he slowly sinks into a chair. He knows she hasn't been alone all this time, even though she is at the moment. Tommy would never stand for that. 

Judd scrubs a hand down his face to wipe the tears as he's still processing all the doctor had disclosed about both of their injuries. He couldn't take his eyes off his beautiful wife no matter how lost in his head he is with thoughts of the accident and Grace's injuries. She was just sleeping, that's all, he kept telling himself despite knowing different, despite knowing she was in a medically induced coma. He hated the sounds of the machines, but he knew they were necessary. "You gotta wake up Gracie," he whispered, squeezing her hand. "I need you." He knew his PTSD was kicking his tail at the moment, the accident flashing in vivid color any time he closed his eyes, but he didn't feel strong enough to deal with it without her. 

He zoned out for longer than he thought, maybe even falling asleep. He startled when he felt a hand land on his shoulder. "Sorry. We didn't mean to scare you," Tommy says quietly as Charles takes up a seat off to the side.

"I's fine." He checks his watch to see he's been in Grace's room almost twelve hours now.

"Any change?" 

Judd shook his head at Tommy, knowing she could scan the monitors herself and figure it out. 

Tommy let's out a soft sigh as she shares a look with Charles. She knew Judd had signed himself out that morning, and from the looks of it, he had not moved from that chair all day.  She knows what she says next will be met with a lot of fight and resistance, but it has to be done because she knows he has to be hurting. Charles gives her a subtle nod letting her know he's got her back, as always. "Judd?" 

He finally meets her eyes. 

"You need to go home and rest. You're healing too, and you're no good to Grace if you're not taking care of yourself." 

"No. Nope. No way. I'm not leaving her. I won't." His reply is instant and full of conviction. 

"She's right brother. You need to sleep," Charles finally speaks up. "Tommy and I are gonna stay. She's not gonna be alone. The girls are taken care of, and we need to take care of you. Go get some rest. You know we'll call." 

Judd cuts his eyes between them seeing an impassable wall. He turns back to Grace as he shakes his head and squeezes her hand. "Judd. I'm serious," Tommy says, breaking out her mom voice. "When Grace wakes up, you're going to be dead on your feet if you don't go. Let us help." 

Judd finally hangs his head in resignation knowing she is right. "Ok... ok just for a little bit." He stands up and leans over kissing Grace's forehead. "I'll be back darling," he whispers. 

Tommy pulls him into a tight hug, as does Charles, before Judd glances back at the bed once more before he heads out. He makes it to the elevators before the tears fall. Walking out of that room is one of the hardest things he's ever done. He wipes at his eyes as he steps into the elevator. He can't go. It doesn't feel right to go home when Grace is laying in a hospital bed with a tube breathing for her. 

He pushes the button for another floor as he scrubs his face. He tries to ignore his racing heart and headache as he gets off on the correct floor. He knows Tommy is right and he needs to rest, but he can't. It's too much, and his rock, his steadfast, always there wife is not there right now, and he feels himself breaking. He walks down the hall, lost in the thoughts of his racing mind. He finds the room easily enough, and he hates that he's just now making it up there or that he even has another room to visit. The room is dim, and Reyes is passed out in the sleeper chair. He knows how uncomfortable that is, so he knows Carlos has to be plum exhausted to be that asleep. 

He knocks softly on the door frame, and green eyes shoot straight up to him. "Judd! What are you doing?!" TK asks bewildered, before he remembers Carlos sleeping and winces hoping his boyfriend stays asleep. 

Judd shakes his head, walking into the room and taking the chair on the opposite side of the bed. Carlos thankfully had stayed asleep. "Came…" his voice is shaky so he clears his throat and shakes his head. TK is looking at him with so much concern it's almost overwhelming. "Came to check on you. Sorry it's taking me a minute to get up here." TK's been there two full nights and days already, this being the third since time got away from him earlier, and he's just now checking in on him. 

"Judd what the hell? No, don't apologize to me. Christ you should still be in your own room!" 

"Signed myself out," he says with a shrug. 

"I know! I heard this morning after you did it. What are you doing up here? Is Grace ok?" TK hates seeing Judd so down, and he's a little surprised to see him, figuring Judd would be holed up in Grace's room. He just wants to make him feel better any way he can. 

Judd just shakes his head and scrubs at his eyes some more. TK swings his legs out of the bed, being careful of all his wires. He squeezes Judd's knee wishing he could make this better. "Please tell me what happened so I can help you feel better." 

"Tommy…" he takes a shuddering breath and shakes his head wiping his eyes before looking up at TK. He hates worrying him, when TK is hurt, so he releases a deep breath. "Tommy and Charles wanted me to go home and rest. But I just…. I can't. It doesn't feel right to go home without her." 

"Makes sense. But you still need to be taking care of you."

Judd nods, but doesn't say anything. TK can sense his need for a distraction. "Alright how about this, since you should be in a bed. You take the bed and I'm gonna sit up for a bit." Judd starts to protest, but TK silences him. "Seriously. I can sit up for a bit, and you should lay down." 

"TK. I'm fine." 

"Judd! You have 3 broken ribs and a broken arm. You have 15 stitches that I can clearly see," he says pointing at the bandage on Judd's head. "And who knows what other injuries I don’t know about. Lay down for a bit. I'm fine. I should be discharged tomorrow. The headache is lessening and so is the dizziness, hence being able to sit up." 

"Fine. But I'm not staying here long." 

"Of course not," TK says with a pleased grin as he switches places with Judd. Carlos stays asleep, much to TK's pleasure because he knows his boyfriend needs all the sleep possible after the last couple days of barely any sleep. Once Judd is comfortable, TK starts talking. He talks about anything that comes to his mind. He tells Judd about the kidnapping, the rescue, Carlos's parents wanting to meet him for real. The longer TK talks, the sleepier Judd gets, and it doesn't take much of TK's rambles before he's asleep. TK sends Tommy a picture of Judd asleep in the bed so she’ll know he’s resting.

Carlos wakes not long after Judd falls asleep, and his face is adorably confused, making TK chuckles softly.

"Hey babe," he says quietly, as Carlos reorients himself. 

"What did I miss?"

"Tommy tried to make Judd go home. But he couldn't. So he came up here, and I got him to rest." TK is rather proud of himself, and it makes Carlos chuckle softly. 

"You're a good little brother even if you're a brat sometimes," he teases. 

TK sticks his tongue out in return, but he feels light and relieved to finally have laid eyes on Judd. He knows Judd's not ok yet, but he will be because he has a family that loves him and supports him, no matter what.