#preparing if you will for a random little activity burst

[shomouno]

2024 World Figure Skating Championships Kiss & Cry

[anundyingfidelity]

PRIVATE LESSONS – Sanji x female reader

Summary: on what is supposed to be another of your private cooking lessons, you and Sanji get closer... in a very intimate way.

Pairing: Sanji x female reader.

Word count: 2k.

Warnings: pure fucking, dirty, obscene fingerfucking smut, some plot, heavy hand kink, eye contact, language (also reader thinks herself as a slut at some point), fingering, cum play(?), semi-public, praising, pet names (darling, sweetheart, good girl...).

Notes: this is just full of smut so yeah. Idk, this is my realization that I am a Sanji whore. Enjoy you sinners. And I'm sorry for any errors as English is not my main language. (I'll keep apologizing for this lol).

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

Probably will make a part 2 to consumate this shit, but I can't promise I will...

GEN MASTERLIST!

Months ago, you started at the Baratie as a waitress but your biggest wish was cooking. And Sanji was there to help you with that. You had absolutely no idea how to start, lucky for you, the blonde chef of the restaurant was aware of your dreams. So you started lessons after your shift.

"Can't deny the wishes of a pretty thing like you," you remembered Sanji saying when you finally asked him to teach you. He winked and put a playful smirk on his lips.

Yes, Sanji was a flirt - but he was a flirt with everyone. So you never took personally his random comments and hits, until you started your cooking classes.

The Baratie was always closed and there was no one but Sanji and you in the kitchen. He had started with the basic stuff, like chopping vegetables and soft meat, and making easy entries and sidedishes.

There was a problem though. This was almost the fourth week you were receiving his lessons and you found out there was something distracting you a lot recently: his hands.

His beautiful, strong hands, that, in a delicate manner, would slice a fish and would convert it in the most delicious dish you ever tasted ever. You became so immersed in his hands doing little to nothing. Even if Sanji wasn't cooking, just fixing his hair or having a cigarrette, everything you could keep your focus on was his beautiful fingers, sometimes wearing pretty rings and jewels around them. And the way the veins on his big hands would appear... Gods, your mind started to wonder a lot of things and it was becoming difficult keeping your focus on the special salad you were preparing that night.

"You're doing great, love," Sanji whispered, staying right behind you and monitoring carefully your chopping like an inspector.

His sweet words were no help for you at all. With a deep breath, you finished with the last eggplant. Sanji immediately came closer and leaned behind your back, and you controled the loud gasp that was about to burst. You felt his strong body pressed against your own, and he suddenly grabbed your hand still holding the knife to start chopping a small piece of the eggplant you just finished. His arms were now sorrounding your figure as he guided softly on how you were supposed to cut it.

"Just make sure to cut them like this, see?"

All you could give was a nod. Fuck, you felt so embarrassed, hypnotized by his hands working on the must mundane activities in the whole world, grabbing firmly the knife between his fingers.

Those thick fingers you fantasized about late at night; not letting you pay attention to the important things Sanji would say to you about cooking. Those fingers you wished to have inside you right now, to lick them, to suck on them until they were completely dry... You rub your thighs together and try to keep your thoughts locked to continue with the lesson.

"Yeah, I see now. Thanks, Sanji," you were surprised you were actually able to talk.

You heard his chuckle behind you before shifting and come by your side, leaving you free of his grip and the warmth of his hands that you were already missing.

"Lets plate then."

Sanji guided you on how to place each ingredient on the bowl, making it harder for you to follow his pace. It took longer than you expected, but you were trying to keep your shit together; your skirt and shirt suddenly felt too tight on your figure and you tried to not rub your thighs, even if you wished for some friction right now.

Once the bowl was done, Sanji took the small plate with the sauce you prepared earlier and gave it a delicate taste, licking the spoon with his tongue.

Why did he look so hot just by doing anything? Was he aware of the effect he had in you lately? Was he teasing you? Or where you just hot and bothered already? No answer you had for any of those questions.

Sanji wrinkled his brows, savoring the sauce with such delicacy, and after a moment or so of thinking he looked at you.

"I think something is missing," he said.

"What? I put everything that was on the recipe for the sauce." In a swift move, you took the spoon from his hand and had a taste yourself. "Seems okay for me."

The chef tsked. "Darling, you need to taste it differently. Deeper, go further than usual."

Sanji dipped his forefinger on the sauce and brought it to your lips. With hesitation, you opened your mouth and licked the sauce from his finger, not only tasting the sauce but savouring the moment. Was he aware of how you looked at his hands? You were not going to question it. Not when you carefully wrapped your soft lips around him, closing your eyes slowly, arousal building up between your legs. His words were no help either, it was like if he was testing the waters and so were you.

You felt Sanji pulling out his finger from your mouth and you let out a soft moan. You wanted to snap yourself. He smirked, he obviously heard your pretty noise.

"Sorry..." you were ashamed but the burning desire was growing and winning over you. What a fucking slut, you thought to yourself. It didn't matter right now. You just had a taste of his fingers.

"So what'd you say?" Sanji interrupted the voice inside your head.

Your dark eyes looked intensely his charming blue ones. "I still think the taste is good."

Sanji leaned down, almost brushing your lips and looking like if he was forcing himself to not press his lips to yours right there and then. Until he did. He captured your lips in a heated and rough kiss, his tongue finding its way into your mouth and tasting the sauce and the sweetness of your plump lips. One of his hands cupped your cheek and the other pulled you closer, forcing your back to press against the counter. Now, you were trapped between his body and the surface.

A moan escaped your throat and Sanji happily swallowed it on the heated make out session you shared. He lifted you up so you were sitting on the empty side of the counter, taking shallow breaths, as he stood between your parted legs, stroking the skin of your thighs without any rush.

"I've noticed you look at my hands so attentively," he mumbled, biting your lower lip softly. You gasped, but he continued. "Why's that?"

His question left you speechless for a moment. Did he really need to ask?

"Sanji, I already licked your finger..."

His palms traced their way under your skirt, and his fingers teased your inner thighs, finding the fabric covering your wet core.

"Well, darling, doesn't that mean we can go further? Deeper?"

"Go ahead then," you mumbled, full of lust. Your skin was aching already for him and this was all you needed to feel complete. Him.

With that, his fingers rubbed you softly over your panties, pressing on the wet patch you were already making. Sanji smirked and he leaned to pay attention to the delicate skin on your neck. His lips pressed soft kisses, leaving a trail of them, until he found the sweet spot that made you melt into his touch, nibbling and sliding his tongue against your neck until he met your collarbone.

"Sanji..." the soft whimper past your lips and you held your breath, eyes closed as he hiked up your uniform skirt and puts aside the panties covering your core from him.

His name falling off your lips made his cock inside his trousers twitch, restraining himself to not fuck you right there in the counter until the only thing that was on your mind was his name and only him. Right now, he decided he would take care of you first. As you deserved it.

"So fucking wet for me, sweetheart," he groaned, forehead pressing against yours.

His fingers found your pussy, spreading your folds softly, coating them with your already dripping juices. Sanji rubbed your clit and he teased your entrance, going at an agonizing rhythm. All you wanted was for him to fuck you with his fingers. Now. You started to grind your hips, needing some more friction, knowing he would get the hint of your despair.

"Please, Sanji," you whined.

Sanji chuckled, and you felt pathetic for begging. You could tell he was enjoying your squirm. His free hand cupped the nape of your neck forcing your dark eyes to look at his own directly.

"Look at me," Sanji ordered. "Do not dare to close your eyes, darling."

You bit your lip and nodded, gripping tightly the edge of the counter.

"Good girl," he whispered with a raspy voice, and with a lustful smile on his lips. "I want to see you come undone."

And with his statement, he eased one digit inside your velvety walls. You moaned louder this time.

"Fuck, you're so ready for me," Sanji growled, noticing how obvious the ache between your thighs was. "You're perfect, darling," he cooed against your lips. His praising caused your walls to clench around him, gaining another dark smile from the blonde man.

The thrusts of his finger started in a delicate pace. Instantly, your eyes clenched, breath hitching, as he filled you up. Sanji gradually increased his pace, curling his finger to reach your deepest spot, and you felt your juices coating your thighs with his moves.

"You look at me, don't forget," Sanji whispered, his other hand now cupping your cheek. You obeyed, opening your eyes for him.

A second finger made its way inside your cunt and he pumped them harder this time. Your legs were spreading wider, moaning against his lips, dying to kiss him one more time. But you tried your hardest to mantain the deep eye contact, realizing where you were right now. In the empty kitchen of the Baratie, with the blonde chef between your legs, fucking you with his pretty fingers. Those he protected and took care of so attentively.

And now, the only place Sanji wanted to have his fingers on was inside of you. You looked flushed, sweaty and simply gorgeous, cyring and whimpering. All for him. Your pussy was throbbing and you let a rather loud and erotic moan.

"Shit, I'm so close," you cried.

"Just come for me, beautiful..."

His lips catching your swollen ones in a heated kiss. He curled up his fingers, thumb rubbing your clit softly. Your hips trying to meet the thrusts of his hand desperately, your smooth walls clenching around his digits. Sanji realized he enjoyed the control and power he had over you as you reached your heavenly climax. He loved it more than he could ever think of.

Your body trembled, and finally, you felt sweet release hitting you, walls spasming in ecstasy around his fingers. Foreheads still touching, eyes locked as he watched you come undone. Exactly like he wanted it to be.

You moaned his name under your breath over and over, filled with pleassure. Sanji felt your thighs closing and your pussy contracting around his digits. He let you catch your breath for a moment, enjoying the heat of your body. For the first time, Sanji then pulled away his forehead, remaining still between your legs, and slowly removing his fingers from your throbbing cunt, eyes looking directly to your wetness.

Still covered with your juices, Sanji used both his hands to spread your folds obscenely to get a better look at your pussyhole. Fuck, you felt so exposed to him, but you couldn't care less. You had a mindblowing orgasm just moments ago.

"Fuck-" you cried.

"So beautiful," he praised. Again, you whimpered and your hips bucked a little.

Sanji pushed a finger slowly inside you, just to gather more of your sweetness, so he could finally have a taste. He licked both fingers he used on you before, humming like he had found the best meal in days.

"So how is it?" you finally asked, teasing him.

"Sweetheart, you're delicious."

You laughed softly, realising you totally forgot about the dish you were preparing that night. "Is this included on your private lessons, Sanji?"

"Only if you want," he leaned down to share a last kiss, this time more gentle than the others.

He already knew your answer.

[kyuala]

treasure as friends with benefits

hyung line + yedam only as this has mature themes! sfw maknae line version here. requested by anon.

hyunsuk

so shy, will literally never initiate anything. blushes easily and just wants to make sure you're comfortable at all times

you wonder if hyunsuk even wants this bc it's been like two weeks and he still hasn't hit you up. but by all means please do take matters into your own hands, he will NOT complain

probably gets anxious doing anything anywhere other than his bedroom the first few times you fuck, but you will reallyyyyyy see how fun and chill sex w hyunsuk can be once he lets go and relaxes

i feel like hyunsuk catching feelings could be a 50/50 chance, he does prefer to have sex with someone he's romantically involved with but it's not always a rule

if he does fall in love he will freak out tho lmao he won't know how to act around you

just wants to cuff you asap tbh

jihoon

LIKES TO FRONT 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

talks real big abt being a dom.... would probably let you dom him. thinks he's immune to catching feelings... will fall for you and then deny it like that's gonna make it go away. says he could probably handle like 3-4 fwbs at the same time.... cant stop thinking about you and turns people down bc of it

keeps buying you things he knows you like but nothing beats the stuff he buys you bc he's noticed they are missing in your house

on God wouldn't mind getting loud and letting certain people know ur business

secretly just wants you to do something - anything - in public that would show people you've got something going on with him and make them back off

compliment him and/or run your hands up and down his biceps and you will give him an ego boost that lasts like 3 whole weeks

yoshi

🚨‼️🚨 romantic feelings alert 🚨‼️🚨

i feel like yoshi would b very chill about the whole thing from the beginning. UNTIL he is not

feel like seeing someone else like that (and being seen by someone else like that) would represent a level of vulnerability to yoshi that would only make him look at you differently (all of you) and that would inevitably trigger some romantic feelings for him, no matter how light or intense

you will notice how much more easily he gets flustered around you, how he invites you to do stuff (out in public in the broad daylight!) with him, how he looks at you and kisses you all different and soft now

DEFINITELY falls into the cliche of asking you to stay for cuddles just a little while longer and feeling like he's on top of the world after waking up with you still in his arms.

probably doesn't really care what happens the first few times as long as you're having fun, but will not be opposed to you introducing some kinks or d/s elements (ahem, he lives to serve. wbk)

junkyu:

bro he would be in love w you before y'all even start oh my God. thoughts of you and what you do to him cloud his mind 24/7 like literally junkyu head empty thoughts y/n

this arrangement probably comes about during some late night talk in his studio when he just lets it slip before he can stop himself. when you agree he just stares at you like 😦 for like 25 minutes

not the best at initiating stuff (if you even count him staring at you from the corner of his eye and hoping you get the message as "initiating stuff")

gets these random bursts of confidence and he will be more active and make you feel good and ur like "boy where the FUCK has this been this whole time" and he's just like :3

not to get mushy all of a sudden but junkyu is literally moved by improvement and growth in his life so if you think things are good now.......... bro be prepared bc he learns FAST what makes you go insane and he will do it every. single. time.

mashiho

thinks he's good at this and is genuinely good at this (sorry to jihoon but this mans built different)

a full adaptable switch, he will figure out what you like and he will suddenly be it, simple as that (and he's good at it, too)

absolutely lives for late night rendezvous (he likes the vibe) but also doesn't really care about the time if he wants to smash he'll smash lol he just won't do it where he works and probably not even in the dorms either

i don't think he'd be afraid to hit u up but i also don't think he would do it that often. does it mostly when he needs to blow off some steam or when he's bored lmao

THE most responsible fwb, he will constantly ask you to keep him updated about how you're feeling and will keep communication clear with you too. will end things if you catch feelings and he doesn't bc he just cares about you and your well-being :(

jaehyuk

probably suggests it himself but will also be v pleasantly surprised if you do it first. doesn't even have to be someone he trusts that much, hell y'all ain't even gotta be friends lmao

seems like he'd try to be picky about when and where but truth is he can't resist you and is easily convinced lol he'd end up fucking you after some thigh touching and dirty whispering on your part

i don't think he would be that ashamed to hit you up frequently either. so be prepared for some thirst traps and some dirty texting 🤞🏼

wants EVERYBODYYYY to know ur business, you'd have to be constantly reminding him that being secretive is part of the deal lmao

i honestly do not think he'd catch feelings easily at all, but he'd be the absolute sweetest and be super considerate to you if you did. if he did catch feelings too he'd just want y'all to get into a relationship as soon as possible, like right then and there

asahi

i dont think he would lmaoooooo

but if by some miracle he did get a fwb, it would have to be someone he trusts a LOT. like top 10 most trusted people in his life type of deal.

probably cares more about the "friend" part than the "benefits" part lol prefers to just hang out and talk first rather than showing up and tearing each others clothes off or something

on the rare occasions y'all do actually do something i feel like he'd be all for it, almost never denying you. he doesn't want anything to feel too intense or stiff so sex with him will be very laid-back, chill, fun... it's literally just two best friends hanging out but he also happens to be making you cum bc he's naturally talented at it

wildcard. i don't think he would catch feelings but also with asahi there's always the off chance of something happening. if he does fall in love i feel like he would try to tell you as soon and as naturally as possible, just very calmly mentioning it the next time you two hang out

yedam

cocky 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

loves it when you hit him up and gets such an ego boost from it, will definitely mock you for needing him so much and ask you if you're that desperate for him (say yes i promise you won't regret it)

would probably get a rush out of fucking in places y'all shouldn't (his studio, the practice room, the dorms when someone else is home, you know the drill) and honestly would want to do it a lot too lol

ON THE TOPIC OF STUDIO SEX ....... he will definitely be a sucker for late night sex in the studio, with some mood lighting and stuff. would probably write a fun summer song that is actually about sex and say you're his muse or some cheesy shit like that lol

if he does catch feelings first he will be a mix of yoshi and hyunsuk. freaks out a lil bit first but then does his best to (subtly) show you how he'd treat you if you give him a chance at a serious relationship

main masterlist | treasure masterlist

[idkwhatimdoingbutslay]

Doing another random word generator little one shot cuz I feel like writing just not ready to commit to updating my fic

Ok this one was just handed to me…

Caitlyn’s exasperation was written all over her face as she dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, sinking uncouthly into her desk chair.

It was new and entirely too expensive, a gift from her father as a congratulations on promotion to her position of Sheriff.

She would never admit that deep down she believes the exorbitant amount of gold spent on something as simple as a chair was worth it, even considering the heating and cooking settings.

Caitlyn wished she wasn’t sitting somehow both comfortably and uncomfortably in her office, surrounding by mountains of paperwork, instead of out on the field with her team.

She missed the adrenaline and the weight of her rifle always on her, unfortunately trading it for a sore wrist and not in the fun way some would imagine.

Caitlyn sighs into the empty air. Everything was under control. Access to shimmer was progressively becoming more and more difficult, Jinx seemed much less active and Piltover was almost completely recovered from the attack, carefully dodging the anticipated war by the width of a hair.

But Caitlyn did not, could not, feel relieved. Not when if she takes one wrong move, shifts her finger a little too far to the right or places her foot a little too far to the left, everything will fall apart again.

But even with the load on her shoulders, she breathes. It’s shaky and unsure and full of fear, but a breath all the same.

Caitlyn’s ready to get back to her working on chopping down her own personal forest when someone bursts through her door.

She doesn’t even have to look up to know who it is. There’s only one person who would forget the common courtesy that is knocking.

“Cupcake, there’s a problem.”

Trying to get Vi to address Caitlyn by her proper title, especially at work, was an unnecessary struggle, maybe even worse than attempting to convince her to wear her uniform. Caitlyn had given up long ago.

“There’s always a problem, Vi, you will have to elaborate,” Caitlyn sighs, dropping her pen to run firm fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp before fully taking out her updo and tying her hair back up into a clean ponytail.

Vi plops herself down on one of the chairs in front of Caitlyn’s desk. “None of the assholes out there are listening to me even though I’m in fucking charge of them. And I know there’s a stupid hands off rule and I can’t just shove ‘em around a bit to get it through their thick skulls who they answer to.”

Caitlyn watches Vi lean forward in frustration as she explains, a certain glint in her eye telling her there’s something that she’s missing, straightening herself up as she prepares to address the situation.

Vi was not just angry, but hurt. A deeper frustrated than the shallow scars now healed on her skin.

“How did you approach them?”

“Like a fucking normal person. Even tried using the dumb examples you gave at training.”

“And how did they respond?”

That’s when Vi pauses, blowing a gust of air out from her puffed out cheeks and past her lips.

She chews on the inside of her mouth with flared nostrils before speaking. “They fucking laughed in my face and told me to run back to you to take my official place as your lap dog.”

Caitlyn’s frown is deep, her eyebrows diving down to meet the bridge of her nose.

She breathes. It’s angry and feels like one step closer to a loud and incredibly unprofessional shout, but a breath all the same.

Caitlyn stands and Vi watches her intently. “And I did exactly that when they weren’t looking.”

Caitlyn carries herself around the table carefully, her blinking and the rise and fall of her chest slow, calculated.

Training herself to be steady, the same way Grayson was, was much harder than she imagined. She never lost her passion, letting the screams and yells out in the privacy of her own bedroom, sometimes with Vi keeping her company.

Caitlyn stands beside where Vi slouches, her body facing her but her face not following suit.

“Would you like to know what I think?”

“What, Cupcake?” Vi inquired back,

“I believe that you underestimate your authority,” Caitlyn says matter-of-a-factly, feeling Vi’s gaze on her. “It’s difficult to make people believe how powerful you are when you don’t even believe it yourself.” Caitlyn finally meets Vi’s eyes, a kind smile, only discernible enough for her beloved partner, on her lips as she does so. “So, what do you want to do to them? Other than bash their teeth in.”

Vi’s chuckle is deep, slowly taking Caitlyn’s hand that previously rested on her knee into her own palm. “I wanna fire them so hard they shit their pants.”

That forces a laugh out of Caitlyn’s throat, a snort joining in.

Vi’s grin is wider, the sound of Caitlyn’s newly developed ease contagious.

Caitlyn takes her other hand to cup Vi’s cheek and stroke the small tattoo under her eye, soft and gentle, pulling the tension and deep seeded frustration out of Vi’s muscles, allowing her to lean into the touch. “So what are you going to do, officer?”

Vi lets herself enjoy the feeling of Caitlyn’s palm and her ever relaxing presence before she stands, her smirk growing confident.

Before she leaves the Sheriff’s office, she presses a grateful kiss to her knuckles and pairs it with a sly wink.

“Don’t cause too much trouble now, darling.”

“Can’t make any promises, baby.”

[mythica0]

For the road

🎂:: The loud house

🧁: Lincoln

🍫:Luanne

Summary: Lincoln ends up sitting next to Luanne in Vanzilla for a road trip. You can guess what happens next.

A/N: in my first Loud house fic “Code pink” this event was mentioned in a flashback. So while it’s written after it’s chronologically before. (Also please note that the dialogue from that section will be the same but the other words might not be) Hope you enjoy!

For the road

‘Road trip time!’

Lincoln thought to himself, quickly running down the steps in hopes of getting an…at least ok spot in Vanzilla.

The family was going on a trip to some random city just for fun. No destination in particular just hoping to see some new things and shop in new places and meet some new people, that sorta thing.

Everyone was excited, Vanzilla was completely repaired just a few days before so they wouldn’t have too many problems on the road.

‘But- still need a good seat!’ Lincoln rushed into the van, thankfully not the last one. He didn’t have to sit in the soggy seat, but he ended up in the back window seat, with Luanne next to him in the middle seat.

‘Luanne being next to me isn’t so bad.’ He thought- but little did he know just how wrong he was.

Y’see, normally, Luanne isn’t the worst seat-neighbor. She might tell some bad puns but nothing super crazy. But today was a different story. Luanne, while not in full ler mode, was still itching to hear a little bit of laughter. And lucky her, she got sat right next to the most ticklish of the louds.

Right as they began to drive, Lincoln started to prepare to drift off, leaning against the window and trying to tune out the chaos of the back row.

Just as he began to settle, he was startled out of his stupor with a buzzing sensation on his side.

“Wha-huh?” He jumped, squealing slightly and looking over at Luanne.

His comedian sister smiled at him mischievously. “Lincoollln~”

That grabbed everyone’s attention. They all looked over at the back seat, exept for Lynn sr. Who had to keep his eyes on the road. He just looked up for a moment and yelled back “don’t kill eachother back there!” Before continuing to drive.

What the rest of them saw, though, was certainly something.

Lincoln was laughing and squirming in his seat as Luanne squeezed his sides and scribbled on his stomach.

“Luahahahaahahanne! Whyhyhy!”

Lincoln was giggling hysterically and pushing half-heartedly at Luanne’s hands, but he wasn’t getting anywhere with it.

“I just wanted some laughy taffy for the road! Haha, get it!”

Everyone groaned slightly but were still smiling at the silly scene before them.

Lincoln couldn’t decide if he was having fun or not. In the one hand- it kinda felt… good? He was laughing and smiling and it felt nice, but at the same time he couldn’t get away from Luanne’s ruthless fingers on his torso, putting him in ticklish glee- or agony? No- glee-He decided. It wasn’t bad, it was… fun?

Luanne was also having fun, she got to hear some laughter and satisfy that craving that she tended to get for the joyful sound.

Meanwhile, everyone else just watched, even a few ‘awwww’s popping up.

That was until a high-pitched squeal erupted from the only brother. Luanne smirked. She had pinched his upper ribs in a way that was apparently really effective. She repeated the action, and while to his credit, he didn’t squeal, Lincoln still burst into louder laughter and giggles.

“This a bad spot, laughy taffy?”

“Dohohont cahahall mehehe thahahat! Ehhehehahha!” Lincoln laughed out, blushing slightly.

“Aww, why not? It’s such a cute nickname! And fitting too!”

Lisa smiled from her seat. “I have to agree with Luanne on this one- statistically you do provide the most laughs when Luanne indulges in this activity- I believe that is because you’re the most ticklish out of any of us.”

“Ihi- uhuhuh! Nohoho-“ Lincoln frantically scrambled flustered at the observant comment, seemingly just made for pure scientific observation (Lisa was definitely teasing him on purpose)

Luanne poked him repeatedly, the variety in the sensation causing his laughter to go up in pick for a moment. “Yes you are~~~ don’t lie~”

“Ihihim beheheing buhuhuhulied!” Lincoln jokingly exclaimed, covering his face with his hands.

“It’s not bullying if you enjoy it~” Luanne’s teasing, lilting voice made Lincoln even more flustered, seemingly making him laugh more.

Luanne used the fact that he was covering his face to get a surprise attack on his underarms.

“Don’t hide you’re smile from us Lincoln~”

“Eeehee! Hehehehey!” Lincoln pulled his hands away from his face to try and push Luanne’s hands away.

“There you are! Hehe, nice to see your face, Laughy taffy!”

Lincoln stuttered through his giggles once more at the nickname- but he knew protesting wouldn’t do anything, so he was ready to accept his fate until he heard a very ominous sound.

Luanne sucked in a deep breath.

And that can only mean one thing. Raspberries.

“EEEhahahaa! LUaHAHANNE HahahhahhhhHa!”

Luanne bore a raspberry on his side the best she could while buckled in a car seat, but it obviously worked well enough- by the end of it Lincoln had small tears of laughter in his eyes.

“Alright, I’m done now, laughy taffy.”

Lincoln held his sides and bent over slightly, letting out leftover giggles. “Mahahan, luahahane. Thahaht was a lohot.”

“I didn’t go to far, did I?”

“Noho, no you’re fine.”

“Phew. That’s good to hear.”

“What was the purpose of that, May I ask?” Lincoln spoke out of curiosity, the mirth still remnant in his eyes and smile.

“I already told you! Just wanted a little laughter. For the road!”

“Well good thing- we’re here for our snack break.” Their dad said, pulling into a gas station.

“Hmm. That little… show.. took longer than I thought.”

“Who would have guessed?”

“Sweet man! I’m gonna get some grub!”

They all scrambled back into their spots in Vanzilla, and Luanne pulled out a two pastel pink candies, handing one to Lincoln. He looked at it and saw the label reading “laffy taffy: strawberry”

Luanne winked at him. “Thought Id get you some laffy taffy, for the road.”

———THE END————————————————

———THE END————————————————

[balkanradfem]

This post is a continuation of the growing seedlings in my apartment, since that one got very long! If you want to read about growing little seeds from the start in your home, you can read that too.

Last time I set some seeds in damp paper towels, and sealed them in a plastic bag in order to germinate them; it's been a few days, so I'm checking if any have germinated yet. And they have!

This is how the tiny germinated seeds look like, they've started growing roots in random direction since they're in a paper towel. Some of them still didn't germinate, so I wrapped them back in, and they'll activate in a day or two. The basil seed that looks like a little snake in the bottom, has already went a little too far; the plant has already abandoned the shell and I can see little leaves are out, I'm not sure if that one is going to make it, but I'll give it a best shot. The rest looks good! I'm going to plant them.

From this step on, one must treat the germinated seeds very gently; if you break that very fragile sprout, they're done for, that is all they have to collect nutrients with. The seeds only have as much energy stored in them as it takes to break the seed, get out, open first two leaves, and grow their roots an inch or so, for every step after that, they're relying on those leaves to collect the sunlight, and then later, roots to draw nutrients from the soil. So they're just a little blob of energy and potential that has been awakened and is now testing the world for survival ability.

I prepared some soil and cups, and filled the cups with damp soil, just like the last time. I'm going to gently place the seeds just a tiny bit under the soil, so they don't have a lot of trouble getting out. Then I'm peppering bit of airy soil on them, again, very gently so nothing breaks. Then I'm spraying them with water, they should never dry out, and placing labels on all of them because it's impossible to remember what you put where. This isn't a lot of seeds to plant at once, this method usually germinates slowly across a few days, so you're never overwhelmed with how much there is to plant, and I appreciate that.

Since all of my cups have holes at the bottom, for drainage, I'm putting them into watertight plastic containers.

And then they're joining the gang! I've marked all plants in the picture that have broken out of soil.

This isn't the usual way to plant things; normally people will sow the seeds in late February or early March, and sow exactly the amount they need, that is not what I'm doing right now. I'm putting these seeds early, because if they make it, they're going to make a first wave of early plants. I will risk planting them out earlier, and if they don't die of frostbite, they're going to be the best established, most early producing plants. They'll give me food sooner than the rest of the garden would. This risk paid off for every single year I did it, and these plants would grow to be the biggest and the strongest.

Now, growing these seeds inside so early in January might be frustrating, because it will happen very slow, with low success rate, notice some of my first seeds didn't even get out, but that doesn't bother me, because I'm basically going to germinate new seeds every two weeks, so that I could plant them in waves. The reason why it's going so slow right now, is merely because of how little hours of the sunlight we have. If you're ever growing plants in fall or winter and they're not thriving or they're dying and being unhappy or leggy or sick, it's often got nothing to do with you, and everything to do with the weather, temperature, and the amount of sun there is in the day. When the weather gets sunny, light, warm, damp, even slightly windy, these plants will start growing like nobody's business. It's the same with the garden as well, if it's not regularly blessed with sun and rain, it will be slow and annoying, and then bursting with growth as soon as it gets rained on. Hours of the light in the day determine how fast your plant is going to grow, and if you're relying on the sun like me, you can't really do much about it, just keep your plants in the lightest spot in your place.

Planting in March is way more satisfying because the plants will make progress in a week, what plants in January make in a month. Those hours of sunlight add up! But, I want some early plants, and I love to gaze at the slow growing babies too, so I will make it thru this.

[asherlockstudy]

Random Rhink realisations that came to haunt me as I was trying to sleep;

(Under read more so you don’t hatebomb the half-asleep messenger)

Link has a very different way of talking about his 13 minute sessions with his wife than about his frequently mentioned, very consistent yearn for very long sex with what seems like tantric qualities, even if it takes a toll on the frequency of sex he’s having. The face of the man describing the typical sex he is having and the face of the man describing his dream of very passionate, intense sex are like seeing two different faces. How to put it into words; if these were the same man, then the passionate man would ensure even a bit that this bad craving for intensity, duration and bonding (as I perceive) would bleed in more in his regular sex sessions… right? It would be crucial to him. At least there is not much indication that he takes initiatives to achieve as much as possible for this in his sexual life (the part of it that he has actually described publicly). He also wishes he could cum multiple times and in short wishes for a heightened type of sexual experience that doesn’t resemble much the average straight male preferences, to which Rhett seems to be closer (often, quick and a little rough).

It is interesting to pay attention to the movies Link says he would like to watch; he has mentioned Brokeback Mountain more than once I believe. It is a movie he is interested in watching but actively postpones it out of… what, fear? The plot is literally a blonde and a brunette cowboy bonding and eventually becoming lovers, and really falling hard in love, but it stays a secret and they return to their wives especially because the blonde is terrified of coming out. And then the ending is BAD and all this shit might be hitting a little too close to home. Let alone that the one point of reference Link once made was that he had “heard” that the sex scene, their first time, was very unrealistic or simply very traumatic for the bottom guy (brunette). And if you know, you know (I may or may not have said something relevant in another post). Also, interesting that this was what resonated with him enough to point out, from all of a movie he had not even watched.

The second episode with fanfic enactment, I think, when they find out Link is pregnant and they return home, Link jumps on Rhett on the spot and Rhett suddenly bursts and calls out fanfic writers that “relationships don’t work like that”. There is an unstated semi-bafflement lingering over the crew and Link after he says this and I was so confused, why can’t couples who just learnt they are going to have children go home and be excited enough to want to celebrate their love and happiness immediately? What if Rhett referred to the mechanics of anal instead and the lack of realism in suggesting it could be done immediately and suddenly with zero preparation. He seemed like he was itching to point out the lack of realism in it. (Did not point out whether Link being pregnant was realistic or not 😂)

Topic shift: in the last EB they complained a little about the low viewership of the R&L videos but they acknowledged that the comments they get are very positive. Yet, there was still something they wanted to express but eventually didn’t. Both Rhett and Link attempted to say something two-three times but then backpedaled and made it a more generic statement every time. It really seemed that what they meant was that despite the satisfaction at getting positive comments and compliments on their scripted videos, they still weren’t getting the type of response and comments they expected or hoped for. There was the lingering implication that the videos are not getting well communicated, that their intent gets a little lost in translation. They said the meaning is perhaps not well understood, and I once again invite you to consider what such a meaning could be in a video like, say, We Dug a Medium-sized Hole. Hmm? In their EB talking about starting these videos they had also talked about the importance of checking what the videos would communicate to the audience. If it is what I speculated it was, then maybe the reason we are getting so conflicting behaviours from them, even from Link at this point, is because they had agreed to work the jumping out of the plane in tandem exclusively through this format, while nothing at all would change in the other formats, at least until they ensured the response of the viewers would give them the green light through their scripted videos. But they are not getting this response yet, so the process has been slowed down for now.

They said the videos still don’t make the money they cost but they are determined to keep doing them. Very uncharacteristic of them but very good news for me. Ideally they should be weekly for me lol. These videos come out every 4-5 weeks and I am always in withdrawal syndrome the first and the second week after the video. The third and fourth week I am good again and then the week of the new video it is a new experience that makes me a little anxious all over!

They have used the hashtag #blessed too often lately. Whenever I hear someone say this for themselves, weeeellll I get a little suspicious. Nothing from them ever shook me more than that time in an old EB, several years ago, the one about what makes a good joke, when Rhett said "we're fundamentally sad people". Link also goes on and on about how he is living his best life, yet it is not enough to keep him from some prescriptions. He did try to stop them around spring for a while, but his emotional / mental state made him resume the medication. Perhaps not everything is as ideal as all the hashtags and insta posts imply. In Rhett's solo episode, he was asked how he managed to figure out life and happiness in general. Rhett replied "when I know, I will tell you". So. You know.

I was watching season 8, 2015 and Rhett was right in saying Link at the time would never be so reckless in the things he did or said. He was always acting silly and all, but he was way more uptight about what could be said and what was risky. At the time Rhett said more questionable things than he did. But let me tell you: stuff was happening already at that time.

[safetycar-restart]

aftercare methods with sub!charles! 💯

away with the chilling ice tub and cryotherapy. charles doesn’t like the cold! a warm bubble bath is more like it. before he’ll attain his WDC eventually, at least he wears a foam crown: you’re lathering up the lavender shampoo on him like there’s no tomorrow. it makes charles burst into laughter, he’s kicking his feet, it's so adorable. a nose boop on top — happy sub, happy life. drying off, you both sleep soundly afterwards.

to amp up the protection factor and extra warmth, of course you bought a heated aftercare blanket and red fluffy socks for his birthday. anything to spoil your little one, he deserves and needs to feel safe.

since you recently got one: playing with your pet dog!

after handing him a glass of water: lots of revitalizing nutrients in bananas, why not feed him one? very on brand. 😆

for times when you play in the living room: because he’s so interested in architecture and art, his domme simply putting on a documentary is just right. watching and commenting together is calming and educational instead of putting on dull tv noises in the background. charles has a tendency to insist watching what you like, so you just do both.

you most definitely prepared a specific music playlist for days when you just wanna lay there and do nothing. not moving a singular inch, just breathing, giving him forehead kisses. 

charles has a fondness for being buried in your chest. need i say more? he won’t suffocate, don’t worry. he might be sweet, but he’s not made of cotton candy. the man’s job literally consists of holding his breath in every 6G turn… a little TLC beyond the light of day won’t hurt him ;)

piling on the compliments. sincere ones! charles’ eternal praise kink needs refreshing after he’s fucked-out and tired. it’s not like you’d ever run out of nice things to say about him, anyway. it comes naturally. you love him so. fucking. much ❤️

checking random text messages from friends. this might not sound romantic, but it’s fun! charles likes himself some humor. and you won’t do it for long, sex is usually a no-phone activity. for privacy and focus.

applying lotion on him. you are looking respectfully.

pillow fort: he already thinks of his car as a nest. why couldn’t your bed be, too?

whenever you get even the slightest dom drop, he will notice and hurry to reassure you, hold you, give you personal attention, make you food. for energy and a mood boost. chef leclerc slowly became a master of the italian cuisine during the course of your relationship. expect the crispiest pizza dough and world class penne. if it’s december? he’ll bake you a fucking panettone! italian culture is so important in your household, you love it.

holding hands and snuggling, just napping endlessly while curled together. as you said: he’s particular about touching. but his domme can do whatever she wants! it’s ridiculous, you sleep so well with your face in his hair.

- george’s long legs anon 👕 with the soft mood, hope you enjoyed 😌

I… once again I would like you to know that I would die for you. This is immaculate. Incredible. 11/10.

Aftercare with Charles can take on many different forms, and I think that’s because he tends to need a lot of aftercare for a long time? He’s not gonna be fine after twenty minutes of cuddles and a quick bath.

Of course he needs those cuddles immediately after a scene and then to he held in the bath when you clean him up. But he needs more than that. He’s gonna be needy and subby for the rest of the day, sometimes even into the next day.

When you’re with him during this time then he’s the happiest little thing ever. He’s all soft and subby, plaint against you and happy to be with you. He can even manage to go outside just fine, as long as he can hold your hand the whole time.

I think that he has a very specific schedule for the first hour or so after a scene? His little mind is completely offline then and he needs to do very familiar things, needs to be able to predict what’s going to happen.

First, he gets about twenty minutes of cuddles immediately, and I mean immediately. You can’t first wipe the cum off him or put the toys away. It’s cuddles immediately. Yes you’ll end up getting covered in his sweat and cum but he’s your good boy and he deserves it.

Then it’s time for a bath. The lavender bubble bath is a must and is only used after scenes. He can smell it from the bedroom while you run the bath and he just smiles to himself, feeling so warm and safe cause now he’s gonna have a bath with you!!

At first it’s very soft, just holding him in the bath and cleaning him up. When he relaxes into your arms, a big smile on his face, then it’s time to have fun!! Time to boop his nose and time to make him a crown out of bubbles. Of course you dry him off afterwards, making sure he doesn’t have to lift a finger.

He also doesn’t have to lift a finger while you clean up. You put him on the comfy armchair in the bedroom (it’s your reading chair and his aftercare chair, no one else uses it), and fetch him his special blanket and fuzzy socks. He’s literally completely naked wrapped in his blanket and then his fuzzy socks. You don’t know why that’s what he likes, but does.

He’s in his happy blanket cocoon while you change the sheets and clean the toys and whatnot. He eats his snack and drinks his water from the chair too. He stands up for all two seconds so that you can sit down and then plops down on your lap, eating from your hand and sucking from the straw of the glass you’re holding.

Once he’s finished eating, he’s done with the more structured part of his aftercare. He’s comfy and safe and warm and now he doesn’t need to do the same thing every time. Now you can change it up.

And you do, all the time. Charles is always happy to just be with you, pleased with whatever you decide to do.

Sometimes it’s laying in bed and listening to a playlist, usually with his head on your chest. He’s very happy there, nice and safe (and naked except for his fuzzy socks). You sometimes listen to the playlist two or three times, just laying there.

I think he’ll often ask you to talk? He doesn’t have any particular topic in mind. He just wants to hear your voice, so you just tell him about your day, about plans, make up random stories, whatever. You don’t even have to speak in a language he understands to be honest. He just wants to hear your voice. If you’re studying, you could literally just say your coursework out loud. It’s your voice so he’s happy.

Sometimes, if you don’t feel like talking, you’ll take him to the living room to watch a documentary. You always ask him if he wants to pick. If he does say yes, he’ll almost always pick an architecture documentary. Sometimes he’ll tell you to choose something and then you’ll pick something random.

He doesn’t say much for the first half an hour of the documentary, and then he’ll slowly start to speak. First he just mumbles things like “that’s pretty…” or “don’t like that…” “what’s gonna happen?” You always kiss his hair when he speaks, making sure to respond to him to help him slowly come back up from subspace. By the end of the documentary, he’s making comments the entire time.

I love the idea of checking messages? I think that’s mostly done towards the end, when he’s pretty good but still too subby to answer his own messages. He’ll come cuddle under your arm, handing you his phone (you know his password by the way, you know all his passwords, he likes that you know) and then you two go through and answer some people. It’s calming when you’re there, and it’s relieving to have all his messages answered.

I also love the idea of putting lotion on him? You’ll often do that after the bath, asking if he’d like some lotion and he almost always agrees. Mostly because he knows it means he’ll get loads of kisses and cuddles.

He’s got the dumbest little smile on his face as you rub the lotion onto his skin. He’s so happy there.

He also insists on putting lotion on you by the way. Don’t even think about saying no. He will cry if he thinks you’ll say no, cause he’s still far too sensitive to be functional on his own yet.

To be honest he doesn’t do the best job at putting lotion on you, but he’s happy so it’s worth it.

The underlying thing is just having you with him? Charles wants to be in your space, to be close to you and to feel safe and sheltered. Even in a normal headspace Charles has no concept of personal side when it comes to you, but after scenes it’s even more so.

He wants to be with you at all times.

[alvodra]

I do have both a writer's mind and a poet's mind and believe me, they are two completely different, but definitely horrifying things.

A writer's mind is character creation. Little snippets of scenes. Bursts of motivation for hours and then no motivation for eternities. A feeling that you can never share what's on your mind unless it's in the form of books or everyone will think you're crazy. A mind filled up with beautiful, wholesome, disturbing, dark thoughts and stories at all times. Lots of rewriting, editing, proofreading.

But a poet's mind? It's sudden sparks of inspiration that you have to act on immediately. A complete work fabricated in a matter of minutes. Images that don't seem to be your own. A message that wants to be translated out of your mind for other people and yourself to see but can only be communicated through more images, through style and rhythm and word choice, but never purely by words. It's over immediately after and you'll never know when it will visit again, but it will visit again and you will not be prepared. All you'll have left is a bunch of words in a certain order telling you truths about yourself and about your view on the universe that you never knew about. That are uncomfortable because they go deep down to a place you usually don't read. There's no rewriting except for the minutes, maybe hours immediately after because once the image has left, the poem is complete and cannot be altered without sacrificing its true meaning. Without sacrificing the spark that caused it and that you can't get back. It's not a constant stream of stories and words and images because it's a gift only granted temporarily and I don't know by whom. By a certain setting my brain only reaches in those random moments? But the poem is not an active choice. The rhyme scheme, the meter and the form are not an active choice. Most words aren't unless I desperately search for any that rhyme. They flow out of my brain and onto the paper and they are mine, but only of my subconscious me. Me, the conscious me, is merely a translator.

And that's obviously deeply related to me and not an universal experience. But if you want to know what my brain looks like when it produces poetry, well, here you go.

[zachsreaderinserts]

sleepy boys inc x gn!teen! reader headcannons

trying something new! i like bbs and all, but i wanted to write for other youtubers! lemme know if yall wanna see more content like this lol.

this takes place in a minecraft au!!! also, mentions of bad parenting/abusive parents

wc: 2,319

okay the sleepy boys

chaos incarnated, all of them. you can’t deny it

so, when tommy invites a friend from a local village, at first, everyone else is skeptical. since when has tommy made a friend who didn’t hate him within 20 minutes from all the screaming and insults he spewed?

unlike his friends, phil is more excited than anything. though he isn’t tommy’s dad, he feels like it sometimes, so he really wants to meet this new person who has caught the youngest’s attention

techno is very much not on board. he has a hard time trusting people at first glance and having been friends with tommy for the longest, he knows that tommy readily jumps the gun and attempts to befriend literally anything just because he can

and wilbur? indifferent for the most part. yes, he feels the need to make sure tommy is protected and cared for, but he also recognizes that this situation is out of his hands. the best he can do is hope that their friend isn’t an absolute asshole

so, it’s saturday. all three men are sitting on the couch in phil’s cottage, talking amongst themselves as they wait for tommy to come back. techno makes a joke about murdering them, which leads to phil scolding him about his violent tendencies

“you haven’t even met them yet, techno, what the fuck.”

wilbur is simply adding fuel to the fire, making little remarks here and there and watching the whole thing escalate to phil lecturing the piglin hybrid.

because of this, not one of them had noticed that tommy returned, with his newest friend. they both stopped at the sight of phil in dad mode, tommy considering just turning around and taking his friend as far away as physically possible

too late, since techno’s sixth sense made him whip around and stare at the newcomer. this made phil stop lecturing and wilbur quit giggling long enough for tommy to introduce his friend

after saying their name, the friend lifted their hand shyly, face burning from slight embarrassment. their other hand was latched onto tommy’s, feeling intimidated.

can you blame them? the fucking blood god looks like they wanna skewer them and cook them over a campfire.

tommy took notice of their shyness and cleared his throat, “we were planning on going to the carnival in their village if you three assholes feel like tagging along.”

like there was any way they were gonna let tommy and his friend go out without chaperones.

tommy turned back to his friend, “give me a second, i’m gonna go grab my sword just in case.” and proceeded to run up the stairs and towards the guest bedroom in phil’s house that he claimed.

the millisecond he was out of earshot, techno grabbed his friend by the front of the shirt.

“what are your intentions with tommy?”

the friend blinked once, twice, then bit back a smile. “you’re asking that as if i’m about to date that motherfucker.”

this time, it was wilbur who bit back a grin of his own. who would’ve expected the originally shy kid to have replied like that????

techno’s brain short circuited and his grip on their shirt loosened slightly. did.... did this kid just brush off his question???

“can you put me down? you’re gonna stretch my shirt.”

techno’s brain blinked back into focus and he gripped the kid’s shirt harder, shoving them against the nearest wall. “i asked a question, kid.”

“you know, tommy told me something like this would happen. i’m glad i came prepared.” and then, tommy’s friend sucked in a deep breath. techno leaned back, expecting the worst...

“MWISTER TECHNWOBWADE, PWEASE PUT MWE DOWN BEFWORE I SCWEAM”

oh god, this was far worse than anything he thought of.

he dropped the teen out of disgust more than anything, reeling backwards. if there was one thing that haunted his dreams, it was uwu-speak.

phil started howling of laughter, clutching his stomach and hunching over. originally he was going to stop techno from threatening a literal child but this outcome was so much better than anything he was anticipating

wilbur was no better, already tearing up from how hard he was snickering. he started choking on his own spit at one point, smacking his arm against the couch.

tommy was so fucking confused when he came back down the stairs, seeing the mayhem that was, for once, not caused by him. he glanced at his friend, who had the world’s biggest shiteating grin.

yeah, they were gonna fit in just fine.

and they did! phil took them under his wing (both physically and metaphorically) and allowed them to come visit his home whenever they wished. and whenever they did, phil was the first to ask how they’ve been and what they were up to

to phil’s surprise, the kid was overall calm in their choice of activities. things like playing soccer or drawing or figuring out how to learn instruments in their free time. it seemed like they were desperate to get their hands on anything and everything just to learn

he found it funny, though, when their chaotic side shone through. they easily were on tommy’s level when they got into that headspace and it was so hilarious to him.

his favorite memory of the kid was when they walked into the house and marched right up to where techno was reading idly in the corner. planting their hands on their hips, they spoke.

“if you were to fuck a clone of yourself, would it be masturbation or would you be considered gay?”

phil, who was washing the dishes six feet away from them, just about crumbled into a ball on the floor from how hard he was laughing and sobbing.

of all questions, that was the one that came out.

but he had no idea that the chaos was a coping mechanism. he just thought they were naturally like that in their free time.

he soon found out the truth when they came home with tommy, who was cursing up a fit, visibly angry. his friend was slumped over, as if trying to hide themselves from the world

when phil asked what had happened, tommy exploded.

“their fucking dad took all their money from their savings! said he needed it more than them and when they asked for it back, he called them a fucking disappointment! that fucking bitch--”

phil can count very few times when he felt true anger and he can confirm that when tommy had told him what had gone down, he saw red.

but he knew better than to outwardly show it. judging by how hunched over and defeated the kid was, what they needed was a stable support system

so he walked over and shut tommy up with a hand on his shoulder, “why don’t we take the rest of the night to build up that game room you wanted in the basement. i’m sure if we knock it out before techno and wil are supposed to be back, we can all play something like monopoly.”

seeing where phil was headed, tommy nodded and brushed away his anger. he knew that what his friend needed was a serious cheering up. tommy ran towards his guest bedroom, claiming that he was going to find his blocks.

phil crouched in front of the teen, tilting their head up to look him in the eyes. “you’re not a disappointment. you’re an amazing person with a chaotic joke machine going 120 kilos over the speed limit in your head and you are talented. your dad doesn’t know shit about what you’re capable of doing.”

oh boy, the kid’s crying. those are tears, full on tears.

that night was one of the best nights of their life, however. they enjoyed the entire three hour long game of monopoly where they watched the light leave everyone’s eyes. it was funny when wilbur lunged across the table when he landed on a railroad, out for phil’s blood.

speaking of wilbur, he enjoyed every minute in the kid’s presence. they often asked creative and random questions and went along with the abstract jokes he made, the two of them laughing heartily the entire time.

when the kid first mentioned wanting to learn how to play the guitar, he practically burst through the wall of the room next door, breathing heavily and exaggeratedly.

“did someone say guitar”

yeah, he’s feral. that’s canon.

they proceeded to spend the entire day in phil’s garden, each of them equipped with a guitar. despite their outwardly smooth brain and stupid demeanor, the teen was a fast learner and could play the most basic chords by the time the sun was setting.

wilbur’s favorite moment was the first night they met, when they went to the carnival. there was the game where you shoot the water and fill up the balloons and the kid was going head to head against techno and tommy.

it was when techno won that the teen turned to techno with murder in their eyes and spoke in a deadpan tone of voice,

“you’re lucky you won this time, you gentrified mayo monkey.”

wilbur’s jaw dropped, as did techno and phil’s. tommy was already in hysterics, smacking his hand against the counter that held the guns.

needless to say, wilbur found his favorite, not-quite sibling in a heartbeat.

techno was the last to come around with the child. can you blame him? every time he tried to threaten them or had beaten them at something, they would respond in a cryptic threat--

“i’m going to pee your pants if you don’t let me win”

or just brushed him off. without a second thought.

“anyways, i was murdering a chicken the other day, and the fucker had the audacity to ribbit at me.”

to say he was confused was an understatement. he was terrified of the fact that a literal child held so much power and disinterest in things like their own life. so for the first few months, he avoided them.

but he had seen past that when it was around midnight on a weekday. tommy was hanging out with tubbo and ranboo in their village miles away from the area. wilbur was out drinking with schlatt, niki, and fundy, and phil was already asleep.

techno wasn’t too far behind, sitting in front of the fireplace and staring out of the window that showed the front yard. it was only then when he saw the flash of a familiar face and looked closer as the teen walked up to the house quietly. their head was down and they carried a small bag with them.

techno opened the front door with a long creak as they reached the porch steps. it was only when they jumped and looked up in surprise that techno had noticed a deep bruise on their left cheek in the moonlight.

despite the fact that he kept away from them, techno was very protective and territorial of tommy, phil, and wilbur. and since they were attached to the teen, he became protective of them as well.

so all the voices in his head went quiet for a second. before exploding into a mixture of screams and threats, all leading back to protecting the child in front of him.

without thinking, he reached forward and cupped their face for a better view of the bruise. at the warm and soft touch, tears slipped down the kid’s cheeks and they sniffed pathetically.

the voices quickly took a 180, all screaming to take care of them. make them feel better. so, techno led the kid inside and let them spend the night in his room, with them falling asleep on the bed and him falling asleep on the rocking chair in his room.

phil did not hesitate to officially declare himself as the teen’s official father, saying that their biological father was a “little bitch”

now somewhat living with the teen, techno found an appreciation for their quieter moments, when they were reading or simply daydreaming. it was cute, in his eyes. but he also grew to enjoy when they were absolutely feral, especially toward tommy.

his favorite moment with them was when they had gifted tommy a music disc for his birthday. it was sweet and sentimental and tommy just about burst into tears when he saw it.

all of the sappiness quickly vanished when tommy put it into a jukebox.

“FUCK THIS PUSSY, BOY, FUCK. FUCK IT RIGHT, BOY--”

tommy had let out the most terrified scream and it practically engrained itself into techno’s brain. it was the first time he ever laughed at something the teen had done and the teen felt proud of themselves.

and finally, tommy. he was already happy to call himself a friend of the teen’s. they were like peas in a pod, working together.

tommy came to them when his insecurity felt heavy and they came to him whenever their dad’s words got to them. they had a nice system of dependency on one another and neither of them would trade it for the world.

tommy’s favorite moment of being friends with them was during their first birthday living in phil’s house. it was a birthday befitting their personality, with brightly color streamers hung and confetti all over the floor. he knew that they enjoyed it severely and once the cake was cut, the kid turned to phil.

“phil, where’s the big tiddy strippers i requested?”

tommy was GONE

he all but choked on his slice of cake and walked away, shaking his head while trying to stifle his giggles. but when he heard phil’s scream of “WHAT”, he just lost it.

all in all, his friend had made a fine part of the sleepy boys. they were a happy face in an otherwise somewhat bleak and dangerous world. and all four men appreciated it.

[koishua]

[ SKZ' 00 LINE AND HOME ACTIVITIES ! ]

prompt: fun and nice things you do around the house :(

notes from vie: this is the eleventh thing i am clearing out of my absurd amount of drafts. hope you enjoy and do let me know how you feel about it through your reblogs or comments <3

warnings: mentions of food.

taglist: @junityy @igyus @intokook @leavethemonsteralive @thegracerammy @cafe-jeno @beyondthesheets @eternallyhyucks @yyxy27 @iminchaosnow @sungsunnie @sooblvr @yutaalove @jiminisyourangel @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @beomgyuv @chileangring4 @99swinwin @jakeycore @99outros @yunntext @ikigyus @luvholicz @rutosruru @daystiny @imdamconfused @renjunvrse @fairyjunn @rae-blogging @iuwon (click here to be added)

JISUNG

#reading to eachother! : you'd be laying in bed, covers pulled up till your chests and you'd lay in his arms, one of his hand hands holding up a small booklet filled with different short stories about long-ago happenings. you'd find peace in his relaxed voice, lulling you to gently go to sleep to the thump of his heart while listening to the fairy tale. he'd press a wordless kiss on the crown of your head right before you doze off, then he'd flick the night light off to pat your back in a slow rhythm.

#redecorating! : jisung would propose the idea of moving your couch to another spot just for a little change and you'd agree. what starts off as something small turns into an entire new adventure where you'd be painting different patterns on the surface of your cabinets, hanging little led lights behind the tv and exchange the dim lights with brighter ones, bringing a lot more life to the space together in the span of just a few fun hours.

rest of the members are under the cut!

HYUNJIN

#play with kkami! : stuck inside because of a raging blizzard, you'd play small games with his tiny dog, your son as hyunjin likes to call kkami as every so often. you'd sit on each ends of the living room facing each other with legs stretched open in front of you to act as goals while you roll a ball on the floor for kkami to fetch. you'd bring him little snacks to train him to do new tricks with and you'd forget about the freezing weather outside your own quaint door.

#dance workouts! : when all else fails, you know you can rely on your spotify playlist to energise you for the day. playing miroh on the speakers, the beat would be blasting inside the walls of your house and you'd be jumping up and down, doing the choreography in the most extra manner possible. you'd exaggerate the moves and he'd laugh his heart out at your silly expressions, tears gathering in his eyes while he wheezes on the floor.

FELIX

#puzzle time! : a thousand pieces of cardboard strewn all over the hard floor, you'd both lay stomach down, a hand pushing up your cheeks while the other searches for the missing pieces. your hands would brush against each others' by accident and he'd smile giddily to himself, heart all but bursting with warmth towards you and the peaceful moment he lives in right then.

#cook offs! : with a chef's hat worthy of his "cooking like a chef, im a five star michelin" line, you would prepare two separate small stations to start whipping up the menus you had agreed testing each other on. you would be fully concentrated on your dish, weaving in and out of each others' way to get the right tools for yourselves. by the end, no one would ever really be the loser, both of you just enjoying your homemade meals for the night.

SEUNGMIN

#cloud watching! : the not-too-warm day would bring oddly shaped clouds with it on the sky, so you'd take the opportunity to make an adventurous trek to your rooftop to carefully find a safe spot to watch the fluffy things pass by, laying side by side, hand in hand. when you make out a random shape on the clouds, you'd squeeze his hands to get his attention and point at the sky.

#in-house picnics! : not having a backyard means that you'd have to improvise on days where you don't feel like wandering too far out of the comfort of your home. so you would open up all of the windows when there were only just a few cars passing by and let as much light in as possible. preparing sandwiches and drinks, you'd set up a cloth on the empty living room floor and enjoy your lazy day (bonus points if you take a nap right there)

[ayybtch]

Bread

Wanda Maximoff x f!Reader, Baker!AU + Friends to Lovers

Chapter 5 of Made With Love

Word Count: 3,292

Chapter Warnings: Our two favorite idiots are so blind it’s not even funny, lots of yearning, some brief mentions of alcohol consumption towards the end

A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for being patient with me on getting this posted. School and work have been crazy, but I’m almost done for the semester so hopefully it won't be as long for the next update. Shout out to my Grandma for sending me her paprikash recipe so I would actually know what I was talking about for this chapter. We literally never speak but she did me a real solid on this one and I will be adding paprikash into my regular cooking schedule once fall hits. Full disclosure though, I literally Googled “What wine pairs with chicken paprikash” and the wines mentioned are what it gave me. Please let me know what you think! I love reading your guys’s comments, it really makes my day.

Hey, so everyone is going to be out on a mission tomorrow night except for me. Any chance I can cash in on that raincheck? There’s a Bewitched marathon happening.

You smiled at Wanda’s message, quickly typing out your response. Definitely! Would you like to join me for bread day tomorrow?

She responded almost immediately. YES!

You couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm. She had been wanting to make bread ever since the two of you made snickerdoodles. She brought it up almost constantly, mostly as a joke to get back at you for all of the times you teased her about it.

Up to this point, Wanda refused to accept any of your attempts to say thank you for helping you out through the cupcake debacle, saying that this was the sort of thing that friends were for. It only felt right that this should be the next thing to bake as your own special way of saying thank you.

As excited as you were to spend time with her and teach her how to do this, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly nervous at the same time. Why had Wanda decided to share her sexuality with you after all this time?

Okay, scratch that. You understood why she shared it with you when she did. The real question is what to do with the information now that you had it.

Was it just a general knowledge sort of a deal? Or was this her way of trying to say she was interested?

You groaned and put your head in your hands. This is why you hadn’t dated someone since your last relationship ended. You needed big flashing lights that screamed “I want to date you!” before you’d catch on, and even that didn’t work sometimes. If someone tried to be subtle, you were an absolute lost cause. You did your best to recall every interaction you had with Wanda that could even remotely be considered as her flirting or expressing interest.

She did smile at you a lot, even more than she smiled at Sam and Bucky who she clearly adored. She also certainly didn’t shy away from physical contact and had even initiated it several times. She had also remembered your coffee and bagel order from the one random time it came up weeks ago...

Suddenly, everything started to add up. All of those glances that had left your heart racing, all of those little touches...maybe Wanda was interested in you?

Your heart felt ready to burst out of your chest with joy.

Wanda didn’t arrive at the bakery until almost noon. The majority of the bread had been baked already; the only bread left to make was hers.

The two of you said your hello’s and caught up a bit as she stepped in to put on her apron and began washing her hands. Once the conversation slowed, you started your rundown for today’s bake.

“Bread is actually a lot easier than it looks but there are a couple of points we’re going to need to be careful at. I’ll remind you about them as we go about but I figured it would be good to have them all in your head now.

“We’re going to be very conscientious about temperatures this entire bake in a way we haven’t really needed to before. When we’re dealing with the yeast, we need the milk around 110 to 115o so the yeast activates properly. We also want things to be warm during the rise times, which shouldn’t be too much of an issue given the ovens have been on most of the day. Once it’s in the oven, we aren’t going to mess with it at all until the last couple minutes and that’s only if we need it to brown further.”

Wanda nodded along as you spoke. “I don’t know how much of an actual problem this is because you’re here, but I always hear a lot about overworking or underworking the dough. How do I know if it’s been kneaded enough?”

“Ah, good question! If the dough keeps getting really flat and not holding its shape, it’s underworked. If the dough is overworked, it gets kind of hard and not easy to work with. The good news is that we’re kneading by hand since it’s your first time and it’s a lot less likely to happen that way than in a mixer.”

She looked unconvinced but nodded. “Okay, so where do we begin?”

The first fifteen minutes of the bake flew by quickly. The yeast mixture had been prepared and was almost ready for the rest of the ingredients to be mixed in. Wanda was completely in awe at how the mixture looked.

To be fair to her though, the yeast mixture does look very weird if you’re not used to seeing it.

Once the flour, salt, and eggs were mixed in, the true fun began. Everything was mixed just enough to be combined into a rough, sticky ball of dough before being taken out of the mixer and onto the floured counter. Wanda followed along as you sprinkled some flour on your dough and began to knead, doing her best to mirror your motions.

You watched her out of the corner of your eye as you worked the dough, waiting to see what she would do. It was hard to hold back your giggles as you watched her. She was practically just squeezing the dough in different directions. You gave her a few minutes to see if she would work things out, but eventually, you set your dough down and moved closer to her.

“Here, let me help,” you said. Your hands moved so they were on top of hers, you tried guiding her through the motions, only for things to fail miserably.

“Okay, can I try something that might be a little weird? It’s just that I’m not used to kneading at an angle like that so it’s throwing off my muscle memory.”

She nodded and you adjusted yourself so you were now standing behind her. Your arms slid around either side of her waist and your hands rested on top of hers. This time, your hands knew what they were doing and you were able to help guide her through the motion. Even after she got it, you remained standing behind her, your chin resting against her shoulder.

The feelings that washed over you as you stood there with her were hard to describe. There was nothing necessarily comfortable about the position you were in, but your whole body felt more relaxed than it had all day. At the same time though, everything felt electrifying. You hoped she couldn’t feel the way your heart was thumping against your chest.

It wasn’t until you realized Wanda had paused and turned back slightly to face you slightly that you stepped back. An apology rose up in your throat only to die as you noticed the small smile on her face. You shot a smile back at her before moving back to your spot, turning your attention back to the job at hand.

The rest of the bake went smoothly, despite Wanda’s fretting about if the bread was rising enough. It didn’t take long before you had two perfectly round loaves of bread sitting next to each other on the cooling rack. Wanda had not stopped smiling since they came out of the oven. Even though that was her usual response, this time felt different.

For the second time that day, you were left trying to describe impossible feelings. Was it her eyes that felt different? They were lit beautifully, radiating so much joy it was impossible to not feel just as excited. But how was that any different from usual? Her eyes always captivated you and left you breathless. Maybe it was the new shade of pink lipstick she had on. It was perfectly accentuating the shape of her lips, to the point you couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to feel them pressed against yours.

You may not be able to pinpoint what the look was, all you knew is that you were grateful to be a part of why her smile was so big.

After she finished taking pictures of the loaves, she turned to you. “That was incredible! I had no idea bread could be that simple.”

You nodded along, unable to hold back a smile. “I told you it wasn’t too bad, there are just a couple spots you have to be sure to navigate well. And clearly -” you gestured towards the loaves, “- you did. Maybe I should start worrying about you stealing my job.”

Her laughter filled the kitchen at your teasing.

As her laugher began to die out, her focus turned back on to you. “Okay, so what time were you thinking of coming over? I’m making us dinner and want to try and have it finishing up right around the time you get there.”

You glanced over at the clock and then back to the to-do list written out on the whiteboard above your desk before answering, “I think it’ll probably be close to five if I had to guess. I still have to finish cleaning some stuff here and I promised to go help Charlie work out some menu options for that picnic thing that’s coming up.”

Wanda nodded along, “Are you going to that?”

“I’m working it, so I, unfortunately, don’t have much of a choice.”

She nodded again. “Same here, actually. All of the Avengers are required to be unless there’s some sort of alien invasion again or something…” She trailed off a moment before continuing. “I was planning on making paprikash. Is that okay with you? I don’t know if there’s anything you can’t or don’t like to eat.”

“I’ve actually never had that before so that would be wonderful! I’m pretty easy when it comes to food. The only things I don’t like are mushrooms and zucchini, but I’ll still eat them if I have to.”

Wanda gasped, “You don’t like mushrooms? How do you not like mushrooms?”

You just shrugged, “Okay, I’m actually pretty neutral on mushrooms. I’ll still eat them. I just don’t go out of my way to make them for myself. Zucchini is a firm no, though.”

She gave you a side-eye but relented. “Well, there are no mushrooms or zucchini in this, but just know I’m going to have to keep an eye on you from now on. I don’t know how we’ve made it this far into our friendship without me knowing you’re an anti-mushroom heathen.”

The two of you joked around for a few minutes longer before she left to start preparing for dinner.

Planning the menu with Charlie didn’t take very long, which you were grateful for. He already had a decent idea of what he wanted to do, so the main thing left was to figure out how much food to order to prepare it. The two of you also agreed upon what you needed to make. Most of your responsibilities centered around desserts, specifically pies, though you agreed to make some fresh rolls and soft pretzels as well.

You were thankful for the meeting to end though because it meant the remaining time you had left could be spent getting ready to go see Wanda.

‘Getting ready’ was perhaps a bit dramatic. You were just changing out of your usual work clothes into something a little cuter. It was nothing particularly fancy, but it was an outfit you felt both confident and comfortable in. You had also made sure to pack some toiletries that morning, allowing you to freshen up your deodorant and brush your teeth as well.

As you stepped into the elevator and pressed the button, you couldn’t help but feel a bit jittery. The past few times you’ve made your way to that part of the building you’ve been nervous about the other Avengers not wanting you there. This time though, all of your nerves could be attributed entirely to Wanda. You weren’t sure what to expect of tonight, but you were determined to have a fun night filled with food and good company.

The warm smell of paprika filled the air and made your stomach grumble as soon as you stepped out of the elevator. Once you were inside, you found Wanda in the kitchen, stirring in some additional seasonings.

“This smells incredible,” you said, setting the two loaves of bread down on the counter.

Wanda beamed. “Thanks! This is my great grandmother’s recipe and is one of my favorite things to make.” As she set the spoon down, she walked towards the fridge. “I bought some wine to go along with dinner if you would like some.”

“Yes please, wine sounds amazing right now.”

“I have a chardonnay and a Barolo, which would you prefer?” she asked, turning back towards you.

You shrugged, “Whichever one you want.”

She nodded and pulled out the Barolo. It didn’t take long for the bottle to be opened and to have a glass of wine in your hand.

It wasn’t until you took your first sip that you realized Wanda had also changed. Your breathing hitched as you looked her up and down. Gone were her jeans and old T-shirts, replaced by a pair of cut-off shorts and a stylishly oversized T-shirt. If it weren’t for the fuzzy wool socks on her feet, you’d assume she was camera-ready. Hell, even with the funny socks she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen.

You realized you were staring and abruptly began looking around the kitchen, trying to find something to do that would take your mind off of how hot Wanda looked. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Wanda shook her head no. “There’s not really anything to be done, this just needs to simmer for about another five minutes and we’ll be good to go. Why don’t you go have a seat at the table and I’ll be over in just a moment with some bread slices and butter. Once this is ready I’ll bring it in as well.”

You nodded and made your way out of the kitchen and towards the table.

It wasn’t until you were seated that you realized how well the table was set. Both seats had beautiful flatware laid out, with silverware organized neatly to the side. Underneath was a crisp, pure white table cloth. What caught your attention the most though were the two lit candles sitting between your chair and hers. It wasn’t until you noticed the candles that you also noticed the music playing softly in the background.

Everything about the setup screamed ‘fancy first date’.

Before you had much of a chance to dwell on the thought, Wanda arrived with several slices of bread and a small dish of butter. You thanked her before she walked back towards the kitchen. She returned soon after with the pot of paprikash, setting it on the hot pad in the center of the table. She walked around to her seat and soon both of you had your plates filled and began to eat.

It was impossible to hold back a satisfied sigh as you took your first bite. It tasted just as delicious, if not better than it smelled. The chicken was cooked perfectly and all but melted in your mouth. The paprika added a nice rich flavor and added extra depth to the creaminess of the sauce.

“Wanda this is incredible.”

She smiled at you brightly, “If you think it’s good by itself, try dipping the bread with some butter in it.”

You did as she said and this time instead of a satisfied sigh, you let out a satisfied moan. “You are going to have to give me this recipe. This is so good I don’t even know what to say, all I want to do is keep eating.”

Wanda laughed at your enthusiasm. “Tell you what, I’ll teach you how to make it sometime. It’s about time I taught you something in the kitchen.”

Dinner was a blast. The two of you spent more of it laughing and talking than eating. The bottle of Barolo was finished before dinner was done. It didn’t take long before it was replaced by the chardonnay.

Once dinner was over, you fought Wanda to let you help clean up the kitchen. Her argument that guests shouldn’t help was shot down as you pointed out she’s technically a guest in the bakery, yet she always helps clean up after she’s been in there. She grumbled about it but quickly conceded. It didn’t take long for the kitchen to be cleaned up and even less time after that for her to drag you over to the couch.

The first-ever episode of “Bewitched” was halfway finished by the time the two of you had settled into your spots on the couch. Currently, Samantha and Darrin were at his ex-girlfriend's house for a dinner party and the girlfriend was doing everything she could to make Samantha feel inferior. Samantha, of course, wasn’t having it and was willing to fudge her promises of not using magic to level the playing field.

Wanda laughed along perfectly in time with the sitcom track. The more she laughed, the more your attention turned from being on the TV to be on her. This was the most relaxed and happy you had ever seen her. She had a small, almost imperceivable smile that grew as she became more and more emerged into the episode. Each time she laughed, you noticed how her nose would scrunch up in the cutest way and it took everything you had to not lean over and kiss her.

What you wouldn’t give to make her as happy as this show.

It wasn’t until the end credits were about to roll that you forced yourself to look back at the screen, unsure of how she’d respond if she caught you staring.

As the next episode cued up, she reached out and grabbed her glass of wine before turning to face you.“So, what do you think? Could I have been a Samantha in another life?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Definitely, though I can’t see you being willing to hide your powers just because a man wants you to.”

Wanda nearly choked on the sip of wine she had taken. “You got me there.”

She finished the glass and set it back on the table before letting out a loud yawn. “Sorry, I probably should’ve warned you beforehand that wine makes me a little sleepy.” She paused for a moment before she continued, “It also makes me incredibly cuddly…”

A rush of emotions washed over you as you processed her words. Was she asking to come cuddle with you?

The hopeful look in her eye suggested she was.

Pure, unadulterated joy swept over your body and you had to fight the urge to jump up and down from excitement. You did your best to collect yourself before you replied, hoping that the answer was indeed what you were looking for.

“Is that your way of asking if you can come snuggle?”

She smiled at you sheepishly, which made you laugh. You moved over on the couch, moving around some of the throw pillows so you could lay down.

“Well, what are you waiting for then?”

Wanda didn’t hesitate for a moment and soon was laying on top of you, her head resting on your chest. One of your arms wrapped loosely around her back after she settled in.

A comfortable silence fell over you as you laid there together, watching Bewitched until you fell asleep.

[yanderart]

   Once you found Shouto on the Anti-Purge forums, it felt so wonderful to be understood. So comforting to finally have someone you could rely on...

So, when you got a letter notifying you of your selection for the Annual Purge later on, of course you went to seek his help.

Should’ve known better than to trust strangers online, though.

My fic/portrait convo for the Yandere Purge Collab, from the Lovesick Discord. And please check the rest of the m. list for other amazing works set in the same AU!

Under the cut is the actual fic (Todoroki x Reader, nsfw, dark themes, 10k), as well as the respective TWs. Hope y'all enjoy 🥀

-------

Tws: Usual yandere ones (stalking, manipulation, delusion). Dub-con/Non-con. Non-consensual Drug Use, aka Aphrodisiacs. Death threats and sexism (from randoms on the forum, not Todo). 

-------

   You couldn’t think straight —hadn’t been able to since waking up again. All you could recognize amidst the fog currently obscuring your thoughts was the longing, prolonged, and tangible in its hold over your being.

You felt hot all over, the flames licking at your skin burning brightly as you squirmed from your place, eagerly attempting to get closer to the cold reprieve emanating from the man that held you. 

“Tell me what’s wrong, Y/N." One of his hands was steering you on his lap, the other one gently massaging your shoulders in a comforting motion. “I can only help you if you do."

If your judgment had not been overcast by the desire pushing away your self-awareness, then perhaps you could’ve heard the faint hint of amusement in his voice. Perhaps you would’ve thought to look up and finally encounter the content shine of his heterochromatic eyes.

“I feel…" speaking was laborious, your tongue impossibly weighty and your mind swirling with thoughts that escaped any semblance of coherence. “I feel hot all over. It hurts.”

The hand positioned around your waist went to search for one of your clenched ones, easily engulfing it in his grip as he nudged the side of your face with his chin rather tenderly. A gentle encouragement for you to stay attentive, anchoring you to the moment despite your dazed mindset. 

“Show me then,” his low timbre tickled your skin, sending another wave of excruciating heat to wreak havoc inside your body, “Let me know where it hurts.”

With a stuttering sigh, you proceeded to press both of your hands to your lower stomach, gulping audibly before bringing them further down. Dancing just short of your underwear while your eyelids fluttered shut. 

You knew your actions were out of character deep down. Even recognized the shadow of wrongness that distorted the current scene. You weren't supposed to do such things, weren't supposed to feel like that…

But the reality was that you were so excruciatingly warm by that point, and his palm felt so deliciously cold. 

When you heard the dreadful siren going off in the distance, the instantly recognizable sound of the Purge starting at last, you were already too far gone to think of anything else but the fingers brushing against the thin cotton of your panties, so close to the evidence of your need soaking through them. 

Your parents had told you not to trust strangers online once upon a time. You should’ve really taken their advice more to heart.

。。。。。

   But first, perhaps a little tracing of your steps is in order —some necessary context to fully understand the extension of your plight. 

You see, earlier that day you had woken up full of a peculiar mix of drive and determination. It was indeed Purge Day, the single day of the year you had grown to fear the most  ever since childhood, and yet for once you found yourself oddly relaxed, filled to the brim with resolve instead of your usual nerves. 

Which was already an unexpected turn of events, considering you had just gotten a letter notifying you of your selection as one of the accursed Darlings of the Night. 

A gentle reminder that, if caught, your life would stop belonging to yourself for an entire dreadful year. 

Because a Yandere had their sight on you now, or so the notice had informed you in impeccable typography. Anxious fingertips memorized the slight raise of inked words, inspecting every single detail the letter carried.

You had imagined a monster ready to pounce just outside your door then, fitting enough to be the carrier of your bad news. A preternaturally grotesque being, built from all the Yandere themed horror stories you had heard throughout the years.  

And yet there you were, feeling safer in that instant than you had in years; Because this time you had a plan. He made sure to give you one you could easily follow.

Just like he later made sure to welcome you in with a kind smile and awfully persistent hospitality. 

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

You should've known better than to accept.

。。。。。

   In the present, fingers were now dipping under the elastic of your panties, ghosting across feverish skin and encouraging your whimpers to grow louder. 

"Is this what you want, then?" The man's breath tickled one of your ears, rough digits gathering your slickness with practiced ease. And he sounded genuinely concerned too, as if your discomfort was not a consequence of his own machinations. "Because I wanna ease your pain, baby. Give you what you truly need."

He barely even touched you yet you were already struggling not to crumble, the desire governing your mind mixing with the new sensations to create a new delirious kind of torment. 

Continuing to tease you, the man was relentless in his torture, barely even brushing over your neediest spots. A gentle press of his palm to stimulate you for a moment before pulling back, much to your shameful frustration; Better than nothing, but not close enough. 

In his own way, though, he was urging you to speak up. Expecting you to demand what you truly wanted. 

Yet as a retort, all you could come up with was gasping out his name, dripping from your lips like honeyed prayers as your hips fought to buck up against his hand. 

 A sound you afterward repeated a hundred times over. Chanted until its melody became engraved on your tongue and the man was finally caving in, sliding his fingers inside with a smirk. 

He had known you'd end up caving, had planned for it for months now, and yet nothing had prepared him for the actual view.

。。。。。

   Shou, actually, had been his username when you first met him. Once upon a time recited with a genuine smile and an eagerness to please, such a far cry from the anguished whines it would later lead up to.

You started frequenting the forum he inhabited a few months back. A place which happened to be a hidden corner of the internet for people who did not just stumble upon it, but actually sought it out. A part of the web where its occupants challenged societal norms and, against what society had tried to condition you all into thinking,  chose to voice their taboo Anti-Purge sentiments instead. 

Sentiments perhaps born either due to the inherent discriminatory nature of the holiday (why was it that Yanderes were accommodated for, while Darlings barely got a warning before they were made prey?), a need for contrarianism (when opposing open kidnappings, assault and other debauchery became an act of rebellion), or just a tenuous moral high ground which made it unbearable to stomach. Whatever the reason, it was your first time encountering such a density of like-minded peers.

Despite attempting to commit yourself to being a lurker, deciding to never post or reply to others, your days had still quickly become consumed by the need to read each and every topic. You were simply fascinated with this new dark corner of the web. 

That was, of course, until the aforementioned Shou became the main focus of your attention, a dash of intriguing brightness to break the monotony of your existence.

And like moths rushing to the flame, your curiosity would be your undoing.  

There was something about him that pulled you in (along with many others from the community, which tended to flock on his posts whenever he grazed the forums). His username was clearly just a nickname instead of a carefully crafted pseudonym; profile picture just an image of the back of what you all assumed to be his hair, dual-toned strands catching the light in a hypnotic way.

Truly, his disregard for anonymity within those parts was a bigger statement than you were expecting, almost as commendable as it was dumbfounding. There was the nature of his postings too, never subtle about his inclinations or ideas. 

   How to disarm and reutilize Purge Traps. 

   Most effective ways to incapacitate a violent assailant.  

   Government lies and why they matter. 

   Faking a BOPC (breach of purge code) and getting away with it.

There was little method to the madness that was his forum activity, besides the hint that he was evidently more knowledgeable about the subject than most. Plus the fact that he was proactive about his advice, actually seeking to teach others to fight back instead of just hide away and hope for the best. For another self-proclaimed Darling, Shou was ruthless with his methods —it was hard not to admire him.

And admire you did, keeping tabs of his sporadic bursts of activity and speeding to try and interact with him whenever you caught him online. You were, to voice it simply, simply star-truck by him (and perhaps becoming a bit of a fangirl). 

Because whoever Shou was, it felt like he understood you. And so, against every ounce of your common sense or natural paranoia, you had finally decided to break your golden rule and reach out for the first time since you joined the niche forum. 

And not to just leave a vague comment agreeing on public discourse, but to actually send him a private message. In your defense, how were you supposed to know the chains of events your actions would start?

   Do you actually believe what you post?, had been your lame conversation starter. 

Luckily for you, he did not leave you hanging. You made sure to send the message while he was still active, one of the few days a week you knew he devoted to his presence on the site (and wasn't it slightly creepy, how you had taken the time to learn his schedule by that point?)

   I wouldn't be here if I didn't, dry, to the point and leaving you embarrassed to have even sent the first question. 

Yet for some reason, something about Shou reverted you back into a middle school kid seeking to impress a way cooler senior. 

Perhaps it was what he symbolized (a change for the better), what he appeared to be (everything you wish you were) —whatever it was, your fingers were frantically typing a reply as soon as his appeared on your screen. 

   I just think it's amazingThe things you know

   How you share them with everyone

   The way you see through the lies

   I just think you're— , your digits hovered over the keyboard as you were about to type out the last sentence before quickly deleting it. Even in your excitement, you knew how obsessed you'd sound if you started complimenting him personally in your very first conversation. 

So instead you sent your thoughts on his posts and awaited his answer with bated breath. A few minutes ticked by this time, your anxiety making you count down the seconds in mortified silence, slowly weighted down by your doubts until your notifications for the forum were going off again with a distinct ping. 

   I've seen your replies around. I think you're great too. 

Whatever your hang ups for praising him directly had been, he clearly did not harbor any. As the prongs of nervousness alleviated their hold over your body, you struggled to see any problems with it either…this was a person you had come to idolize, and they thought you were great?

Your smile, while still anxious, was considerable while you quickly responded. 

   I'm just a n00b. Learning from the pros. 

A moment of thought, biting your bottom lip as you decided whether to add a second message or not. Fuck it, you told yourself. 

   I wasn't even supposed to be posting anything, but you made me wanna reach out. 

Was that too forward? Oh god, it was, wasn't it? You must've sounded creepy, must've sounded desperate and…

   That's cute. Did my ramblings teach you anything? 

An actual squeal left you then, sounding like it came from an altogether different person. You were an adult, with a career and responsibilities… Yet somehow, this stranger online indirectly calling you cute made you more excited than you were comfortable admitting.

   Ofc. I didn't even know what a BOPC was before. Didn't know most of the purge traps you mentioned, either. 

The spaces between replies were getting smaller, the conversation turning fluent as you both seemed to be staring straight into the screen, waiting for the other to finish typing. 

   So you really are a n00b then. 

Shit, did you fail some sort of forum etiquette by admitting that? Somehow, the need to impress Shou was more palpable than ever. 

   And you clearly know your stuff. Makes me wanna up my game. 

Be more like you, you left unsaid. 

   So am I your senpai then? 

Your fingers froze just above the keyboards, eyes scanning over Shou's last message and reverted back to staring at his profile pic for a solid minute. You would've squealed again, if you weren't so taken aback. 

   You make it sound like I am, his second message lit up your screen, coming in quickly after your rare pause in replies.

   I don't think that's bad, though. Third message from him, and you were close to fainting now. 

   Then in that case I suppose you are. You wondered whether Shou wouldn't think you were pathetic admitting that, or whether he had been honest by saying he didn't mind... 

   I've also noticed you agreeing with some of my more polarizing views. 

A welcomed change in topics. 

You thought to ask him which ones (most of his posts tended to have a polarizing effect, with people finding him either too radicalized or not radicalized enough), but before you could formulate the question you saw the twinkling circles symbolizing he was typing up another sentence.

   Do you actually believe them? And now it was his turn to spit your words back at you. 

   Well, yah. You make compelling arguments. 

   Color me impressed then, the start of his new retort left your mind spinning. Never met a n00b like you before. 

After his declaration, you found yourself writing and rewriting your answer, hesitating on your word choice, and yet pure elation coursed through your veins. 

He said he's impressed with me, your brain kept supplying on loop. You had no way of knowing just how much of a lasting impression you were leaving. 

   I don't wanna stay one tho. I'd like to jump a few levels. Improve.

Barely a moment's notice before his last message provoked a noticeable hitch in your breath. 

   I can help you with that. 

Which, as short of a reply as it was, left you giddier than would’ve been healthier to admit. 

Perhaps it could be chalked up to your work shifts growing more monotonous and tiresome, your social life becoming a faint echo of what it used to be, or just the regular wear and tear from a too-plain existence —a routine where you didn’t tend to engage with life, but just passively watched it go by.

Whatever the true reason was, that night you went to sleep with such a wide grin that the apples of your cheeks had started to hurt from the exertion, infinitely excited after getting to talk firsthand with someone you had already come to admire by that point. 

It almost made you self-conscious, knowing just how much it all meant to you, how such a small gesture on his part happened to mean the world to you. 

But there was really no reason to feel ashamed or overzealous over your own reaction. If you could’ve seen Shou, you would’ve known you weren’t the only one smiling.

。。。。。

   Almost as open of a smile as the one adorning his features right now, currently hidden from your view as his fingers set a maddening pace. Tortuously slow at first until his knuckles started brushing against your opening with each thrust. 

All you could hear now were the wet sounds of your arousal facilitating his movements, motions whose only purpose seemed to be to drive you more rambling and disoriented by the second. 

"Is this what you want? What you need, perhaps?" His usually calm voice was uncharacteristically affected as he gasped against your ear, the torture he was making you endure clearly getting to him as well. 

You were much too preoccupied with the waves of pleasure and warmth overflowing your body to give a proper response, but your lack of one did not deter him. 

If anything, your needy gasps and whines were the only encouragement he required. 

"Don't worry, Y/N. I'll take care of you, make you feel good."

By that point, the hand that had been petting your hair had found its way to your sopping heat too, calloused pads circling around your pearl while the man continued feeding you his eager promises. 

"I get you, baby. Just like you get me." So close, your entire body taut and ready to snap. "And you want me to take care of you too, right?"

You weren't conscious enough to understand the implications, your impaired judgment prohibiting you from reading further into the meaning of his words. He sounded so encouraging, so deceivingly tender despite stuffing you full of his fingers as you squirmed on his lap. 

All you could do was nod furiously.

And later on, when your senses sadly returned, dedicated yourself to lamenting over which of your actions brought you down this unfortunate path. 

。。。。。

    Perhaps, your consciousness supplied, it had been the fact that you opened up so readily. That you had dared to share with a supposed new friend, things that should’ve better stayed hidden in the first place.   

But goddamn it, you felt downright honored that he even considered you worthy enough to entertain in the first place. From the very first second, Shouto already had the upper hand. 

During the first few conversations, the topics you two discussed were all closely related to the purge and your mutual hang ups with it. Concise and carefully typed out messages were exchanged, discussing opinions you had never expected anyone to be interested in hearing—not from you, at least. 

But then, as the weeks slowly progressed, the subjects of conversation began shifting to both of your lives, to your occupations, hobbies, and, directly against the forum's policy for privacy, the people you two were outside the confines of your online corner. 

Even without actually exchanging any real data or supplying him with your name or age, you found yourself starting to open up more and more with each day.

You told him about your grueling office job, the friends you hadn’t seen or texted in weeks, and the reality of an apartment which more closely resembled a containment cell than a home…

Revelations that you had kept hidden for so long, which now came pouring out without regard for how mortified they made you feel. You were conscious of the limits blurring between you two the further you kept going, of how you were telling him things best left unsaid, cramped and buried in a hard to reach place. 

And yet, for some obscure reason, everything Shou represented made it impossible for you to resist the temptation to speak up, to demand to be heard for the first time in an eternity of quietness. 

You’re pathetic, is what you expected him to say in return. Pathetic, weak, meager, and worthless. Anticipating him, somehow, to echo all the doubts and deeply held fears you carried inside. 

   Most of my friends don’t understand either, was instead the response you  received. But most people don’t see what's wrong, what needs to be changed. You feel lonely because you do.

It wasn’t clear what you would’ve wanted to hear beforehand, the things you had fantasized someone would reply if you ever gathered the courage to share your anxieties. Whatever those expectations had been an eternity ago, they now vastly paled when compared to what your new friend was dangling in front of you. 

It felt like he was giving an excuse for things you had always perceived as personal failings. If what he said was true, it would mean it wasn’t your social ineptitude that kept people away, your uselessness, or uninteresting personality.

It would mean the shadows around you could still be dispelled somehow, exorcising the silhouettes of a suffering that had become a regular companion in your day to day life.

Brandishing a courage that only anonymity could give you, your fingers were a blur on your keyboard as you tried to ignore the rapid heartbeat in your chest, the fear, and exhilaration from opening up for the first time in forever. 

Something you would later regret a thousand times over.

   And you do too, and it wasn’t a question, a nervous comment or a stuttered retort. With the aid of the text format, you could look as confident as you knew you weren’t. You understand as well. 

You understand me, was the tacit meaning behind it. The prickling of unshed tears made it so you were furiously blinking, fighting against the downpour despite your eyes refusing to leave the screen for longer than an instant. 

   I do. More than you realize.

For all intents and purposes, your first mistake was indeed opening up. 

And your second one was being naive enough to let him in. Seriously, why hadn’t you heeded your parent’s advice about stranger danger?

。。。。。

   ...If they could only see you now, coming apart at the seams and with the name of your tormentor being the only word you were able to string together. 

"Such a beauty, and all for me," his praises accompanied you through the rough orgasm ripping through your body, lips kissing your forehead in stark contrast to the digits still pumping inside your heat. "Let me hear your voice, baby. Let me hear how beautiful my name sounds on your lips."

And you obeyed, because what other choice did you have. Mindless, broken, and oh, so needy. 

You continued to audibly moan as your climax unwound, crying out his name in absolute reverence while Shouto's smile deepened against your skin. The chill of his touch was still as soothing as ever, calming down the embers of a lust that refused to completely die down.

When he finally pulled his hands from your core, you felt excruciatingly empty. But you were not given enough time to wallow in your despair, because who you once considered your friend was then grasping your face gently between his hands, leading your gaze to meet his—forcing you to witness the intensity and adoration present there. 

"My Y/N."

Even in your deeply intoxicated state, the last few dredges of your senses supplied just how utterly abhorrent the situation was. 

The sirens signaling the start of the Purge had died down a while ago, drowned out by your own cries of pleasure, but you could still see the remnants of the government logo still plastered all over the TV, its bright glow bathing you both in an eerily scarlet ambiance. 

From the same weak place of coherence, a shiver of fear managed to break through your stupor. 

"You're going to continue to be a good girl for me, aren't you?" 

When he kissed you then, slow and almost ironically hesitant despite what had just transpired moments before, you couldn't begin to tell your body to refuse. Much to your own horror, you were soon eagerly kissing your tormentor back. 

。。。。。                                                      

   The second mistake leading up to your downfall, on the other hand, took a little longer to occur. It was after a few more weeks of conversation. You vented and talked way too much, while Shou listened intently and even rewarded you with a few crumbs of advice of his own.  

So wrapped up in your new seemingly innocuous friendship you were in, you failed to recognize the magnitude of an event that should've sent you scrambling to shut off your monitor. A warning so loud it would've put the Purge sirens themselves to shame. 

You see, with Shou's help, you were slowly becoming more of an active user around those parts. You didn't just stick to replying to his posts or lurking until he shot you a private message anymore; no, you were now officially a contributor, deciding to step out of your anonymity to share what you thought was a fairly interesting article. It was a rather long-winded thinkpiece on the morality of Darlings’ treatment after the Purge had ended—the reality of that year spent in captivity that most people tended to just brush under the carpet, all in the name of making the entire ordeal more palatable to digest. 

In all your eagerness, however, you had failed to realize a very crucial detail, which was that the article was a whole two days old. Already an ancient text by forum's standards, apparently. 

So with that in mind, of course you should've expected the hate, an outpouring of bitterness fit for a community of loners and acidic underdogs. You were on an anonymous forum on one of the darkest parts of the internet, somewhere most sane people actively stayed away from—Clearly, a rookie unwittingly reposting something was the perfect target for a lot of your bitter comrades. An excuse to finally take out all of their pent up frustration.  

   Fuck1ng pleb, thanks for copy-pasting the same post for the 55th time. 

   This is why we shouldn't let newbies post. Look at this mess @mods.

   Time to hang it up, n00b. And by “it”, I mean your f****** neck.  

   i bet ur a girl, [Username]. u type like a b1tch. 

And the icing on the cake for internet interactions, a myriad of wall spamming "KYS" being plastered all across the comment section, bold and daunting as they filled your notification box with the repetitions of hate. If you weren't so sure of your safety behind your screen, perhaps you would've felt intimidated. 

As it stood, you were just embarrassed, mortified at the fact that you had seemingly botched your only attempt at leaving a positive first impression. If anything, it only seemed you had given everyone a common enemy to pick on for once...

Or that was, at least, until Shou happened to log in at exactly that precise moment. You knew he was usually busy around that day and time (he never actually told you whether he had a job, but you had surmised as much from your past chats), so his instantly recognizable profile picture and username popping up had you genuinely gasping at first. It was one hell of a coincidence, but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at what looked to be your savior.

   Everyone, stop getting your panties in a twist. This is why no new users end up staying, the environment is abhorrent. 

It was vague enough not to betray the fact that you two weren’t just strangers anymore, as well as keeping Shou’s reputation as a lone wolf from completely shattering.

And a comment which, surprisingly, instantly dulled most of the incoming messages your post was being flooded with. 

People respected him there, his status as a renowned user giving him a genuine sort of power and hold over the rest of the community. One of the first things you had recognized on the forums was the distinct hierarchical structures amongst its users, and there Shou might’ve as well be granted the title of mayor for all the weight his every sentence carried.

Or at least they did with the majority of the community. As in every place where large numbers of people gathered, there were always a few rotten apples just begging to be tossed. 

   and ofc ur whiteknighting for her, Shou The Great. shes sucking ur dick under evry single post u make

You cringed, studying the bitter user that had decided to be a contrarian and easily recognizing him from unsavory past encounters you witnessed. Although, if you were completely honest, this time you couldn't exactly say his words didn't carry a certain degree of validity.

Shou had told you he was glad that was the case with you, that his post resonating with anyone was one of the main reasons why he hadn't just disappeared from the site completely. But in reality, saying you weren't subtle about your agreement with his ideas would be an understatement. 

You were like a puppy skipping behind him, trailing his interactions and always ready to write an eager comment backing him up. Yet you had never thought others actually paid attention to your mostly one-sided interactions, the occasional meager downvote or emote being the only thing that made you aware your comments weren’t just lost in the sea of spam Shou’s posts were usually showered in. 

For the longest time, your support had just felt like leaving letters for the man to find. Letters you hadn’t even been sure had reached their target until a few weeks back...

Suddenly, the sharp sound of Shou's incoming reply drove you from your tribulations.  

   Well, maybe if you weren't such a crude man you wouldn't be permabanned from starting topics yourself. Although I doubt anyone would be sucking your dick either way, shitty ideology considered. [Image attached]

A grimace was quick to grow on your face as you aptly studied the picture Shou decided to close his reply with.

It was a screenshot of what looked to be someone's post history, a rather extensive list with alarmingly offensive titles such as "Why male darlings should be spared", "The purge is a form of cuckoldry" and “Feminist agenda: female yanderes and their biological advantage [Repost]". Almost all of them exhibited a tragic downvote ratio right as well, besides the red symbol signaling the posts had been archived by senior users or mods.

For someone who also loathed the terrible holiday, it was almost admirable how the man managed to be almost as detestable as the criminals you all rallied against. 

But even so, what disturbed you the most wasn't the clear bigotry of the user, but the fact that that screenshot couldn't have been taken from public records. A user's post history was hidden, just another measure on the site’s part to keep people from recognizing too many details about each other and possibly endangering themselves. 

No, it could only have been taken from inside the account. And judging from the other guy's quick reaction, you weren't the only one who came to that realization.

   how the fck did u get that

   I knew u were friends with the mods. fcking rats 

By that point, everyone else had stopped clogging the comments and, you assumed, instead opted to settle down and attentively observe the events transpiring. Apart from the emote reactions and the rapidly rising number of upvotes on Shou’s comments, you had all become a passive audience to the public ridicule.

Although you couldn’t help feeling slightly disjointed by Shou’s behavior. Below your wicked sense of pride at having him defend you, there was still the whispers of your gut telling you the man was going a little too far, his actions spelling a more sinister meaning than just “having a friend’s back”.

   You've been here for years, Minoru. Surprised you haven't yet noticed how much of a pest everyone sees you as. 

Minoru? You did a double-take, going back to read the username of the guy Shou was arguing with. But he just had a randomly generated number as a pseudonym, same as you and most others, and with just a picture of some anime sneezing girl to distinguish his profile from the rest. No trails or signs of what could Shouto be referencing to.

Nothing but an option you preferred not to consider. But it couldn't be, could it? your friend wouldn’t...

   fucking delete that right now, man.

   this isn't a joke, DELETE THAT. 

Only that the abrasive and desperate reaction told you everything you needed to know. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, shock mixing with equal parts horror and amazement you couldn’t even begin to try and disentangle. Because right that second, you were witnessing your friend breaking the forum’s number one rule with a front-row seat to the spectacle. 

And he was doing it all in your name.

   Then maybe think twice before you go out of your way to harass newbies. Or have you had too much time on your hands after being fired, is that it?

It was vague enough not to represent any kind of threat... if not for the context of the site. And yet you all knew the hidden message behind it, the warning for whoever Minoru was to understand Shou knew much more than what he was letting on. That he could expose much more than he was currently alluding to. 

   y are u even doing this, shou? y do u care wtf happens to this noobslut anyways?

Shou's reply took barely a moment to appear, lighting up your screen and, despite the slightly morbid nature of his protection, coaxing out a smile to adorn your lips. It was like a balm being applied to your worries, quieting down most of your incipient concerns in favor of rejoicing. 

   They're a friend. 

For fuck’s sake, you even screenshotted that for posterity. Somehow, him acknowledging the new bond you two had openly felt like a milestone. 

When a mod came in to archive the post and give everyone involved a stern warning later on, you were already way past your previous doubtful sentiments. 

Instead, the last thing you did before going to sleep that day was to open up your private conversation with Shou and send a quick yet heartfelt message of gratitude his way. 

Months prior, you wouldn’t have ever thought you’d be thanking anyone for semi doxxing another human being. How rapidly things were changing, though, and all while you got lost in the thrill of mattering.

   Thanks for sticking up for me. It meant a lot, you typed feeling slightly lightheaded, drunk on the idea that anyone would think you worthy of having your back.

You thought Shou went offline after dishing out his not so thinly veiled threats, but somehow he was back again in an instant, the sound of notifications going off shaking any remnants of your exhaustion.  

   Anything for you, [Y/N]. 

You were so tired, it didn't occur to you that you hadn't yet shared your real name with your friend either.

That night, for once, you fell asleep with a twinkle in your eye and the image of Shou's multicolored locks dancing against your eyelids. Imagining, ever so briefly, your fingers trailing down the back of a neck you now had memorized from analyzing his profile picture. 

And, while you slept with your phone clutched to your side, you also failed to notice the peculiar sound of your own camera going off, the soft glow from the red light beside your lense bathing your features in its subtle illumination, flickering against your eyelashes and the lingering grin on your curved lips. 

You truly looked angelic like that. 

Suffice it to say, Minoru never bothered you again after that day. In fact, his name disappeared from the site not too soon after. 

。。。。。                                                   

    But now, to continue the grueling task of giving a context for your inevitable end, it is necessary to jump a month further into the future, barely a week from the excruciating present. 

Because it was then that the last strike finished nailing the coffin of your proverbial undoing, burying you under the weight of your own ignorance.

You got your notice in the mail on the Day of Announcements, an inconspicuous letter lacking any further distinction beyond a scarlet government seal emblazoned across its front. But even before you opened and read the message, you already knew of its contents—easily recognizing the image before you from several of the varied posts you had seen floating around on the forums lately.

   Purge Notice!!! Help needed Urgently. 

   Just got my letter. Do I stay hidden or fight back? [Open poll]

   Third time getting mine. AMA about my methods. 

The range of how you had seen other users reacting to their own selections was diverse, with some of them being more experienced while others, such as you, had just gotten their first letter ever. If things played out differently for you, then you were sure you would've been another one of the numerous panicked voices, awkwardly trying to maneuver their way out of their new situation.

And maybe, then, your odds wouldn't have been so completely fucked from the start. 

As it stood, as soon as you laid eyes on the notice, the first thing you thought of was how quickly you could boot up your computer and open the forum’s private messages. Because, for the first time in forever, you were overwhelmed by the feeling of someone else being there for you. 

Shou was your friend, had earned that spot fair and square after months of listening to you venting and sharing deep discussions; faster than you could even realize it, and so it was only natural for you to seek his help once the news of your selection for the new yearly Purge reached you. 

He had even threatened another user for your sake, for fuck’s sake. So, really, what harm could come out of relying on someone you were sure was trustworthy?

Maybe it was too late by that point for you to snap out of it, but it was almost amusing seeing you being so easily deceived. 

Just another reason why you needed him, certainly.

 。。。。。

    Already told you I'd have your back, had been his immediate reply barely an instant after you attached a candid photo of your hand holding up the envelope. Whatever you need, I’m here.

His lack of hesitation was palpable through your screen, heart hammering in your chest as you were faced with a kindness you had thought yourself undeserving of not long ago. 

As soon as you closed your mailbox, you had immediately raced to send him the message, completely foregoing telling any of your other friends or family members when you doubted they would even understand you in the first place. Shou had been right when he told you people just didn’t want to see the truth, even if it slapped them right in the face, leaving dark imprints in the shape of their narrow mindedness.

But he was there, he was letting you know as much, in his own words. And for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few months, you felt incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon the Forums in the first place, to have traced whatever fortunate path had led you to find him—the one person able to distinguish you in a world you always thought you blended straight into. 

   Thank you, Shou, for everything. And at that moment, you really had been truthful, so much so that there were tears prickling at your eyes, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude drowning you with its intensity.

Indeed, your final mistake had been your desperate need for acceptance. A need that had, in the end, cost you everything.

   You can call me Shouto now. No use for nicknames anymore.

Amidst the chaos of your life possibly crashing down all around you, somehow his revelation put a trembling smile back in your face. 

   Then allow me to repeat: thank you, Shouto. 

   Np, Newbie. Told you I'd help you level up, didn't I? 

His teasing managed to garner a small stuttering laugh out of you despite the dreadfulness of your situation. 

But you couldn’t help it. Somehow, every reply Shouto sent you only served to wrap the illusion of safety tighter around you. So tight in fact, that you should’ve started worrying about suffocating. 

。。。。。

   On the other side of the screen, the man with the multicolored hair couldn’t help but keep staring at the picture you had sent him earlier. 

He was transfixed, eyes almost unblinking as they refused to separate from the image. The way your fingers tentatively held the letter up for the picture was simply adorable to him. Beautifully naive. 

It wasn't like he hadn't seen your face before, like he hadn't already memorized the texture of your skin and the everlasting trace of a frown always threatening to dampen your mood. He read your expressions like poetry, every mole and scar furthering the securing of his interest. 

But this was the first picture you had actually chosen to send him out of your own volition, the final symbol of a trust he had worked so tirelessly to earn. Used to catching prey as he was, the man wasn’t entirely sure when you had turned from a game into a priority, from a priority into the only thing he could even make himself care for.

And it didn’t help that it was his letter you were holding, too. His formal declaration of pursuit. 

With time, Shouto was sure you would find it in yourself to appreciate the beauty of such irony. 

But, for now, what he really needed to do was buy some tea. Couldn’t have your own stubbornness ruining your first encounter, could he?

。。。。。

   In the coming weeks, your friend aided you and even coached you as you jointly planned for the horrific holiday, not only suggesting ideas but tracing the safety measures needed for them to succeed. You really had no reason to doubt him by that point.

That evening, after you finished letting Shouto know you were back from work, you made sure to pack all of your supplies into an inconspicuous bag you had acquired for the occasion. Whoever your Yandere was, it was best to not give any hints of your new acquisitions, just in case they were already stalking your movements. 

Shouto had helped you devise the list, mentoring you in your selection of weapons as well as self-defense arsenal—what brands of pepper spray to get, which ammunitions were most efficient and reliable, even what kind of clothing was the least troublesome if the need to escape ever arose. If you had been sure he knew his craft before, now you were surprised at just how vast his wisdom genuinely was. 

After the last few finishing touches of preparations, you were already on your way to the direction you had both agreed on (supplied by him, approved by you). There were several hours until the start of the Purge still, but the adrenaline swimming through your bloodstream was already considerable. 

Shouto had suggested you visited him for the Holiday, quoting how the measures in place for his home made it nothing short of a fortified vault, impossible for any outsiders to break into (and for anyone to break out of, but let's not get ahead of ourselves). 

With that in mind, how could you have refused his offer? Your place was barely an excuse for an apartment, windows that didn't entirely close, and feeble doors that could be easily broken into. Even if you weren't partly driven by the curiosity of meeting your new internet idol turned friend, it would've been foolish to decline. 

So in a few hours, you were sporting a nervous smile on your face as you parked your car in front of the largest apartment complex you had ever encountered. It was luxurious in a way you had only seen staring back at you from a television screen, marble, and gold accents giving you the impression you were about to step into a drama set instead of visiting an online friend. 

Before the surrealism of the entire situation could begin to set in, however, you noticed the young man sitting on the ample stairs of the building. He had an air of effortless elegance, tall and lithe, yet sporting a black turtleneck which hugged his frame and made it clear just how much sheer strength hid behind his movements. 

And he also sported the same peculiarly colored locks you had already memorized from the last few months, the light softly reflecting on them proving to be an even more impressive show when admired live. 

You were dazzled for an instant, wondering if, somehow, this entire thing was a prank and the Shou from the forums had just schemed his way into making a fool out of you in front of a handsome stranger. Way too convoluted, yet entirely too plausible to your bewildered self. 

Until the man lifted his eyes—as beautifully dual-toned as his hair, and catching sight of you standing just beside your recently parked vehicle. 

"Y/N," he was sharply climbing to his feet as he called out your name, the shy hint of a smile in his lip contradicting the monotone cadence of his tone. "Good to finally meet you."

You had first been under the impression that the Shou you knew was cold, the way he interacted with others on the site reminding you of an emotionless robot at times, but the man addressing you seemed like he was ripped straight out of a stereotypical rom-com. 

Maybe he'd be the aloof, tormented heir? Which, in your fantasy drama land, would make you the nearly illiterate and poor love interest. Your feelings of inadequacy only grew at the comparison.

Almost cute, how that had been one of your greatest worries once upon a time. How foolishly eager you were to be liked back then.

"Shouto." The name still felt somewhat strange on your lips, even after he had insisted you started calling him that. "It's good to meet you, too."

He was by your side in an instant, taking your bags from you swiftly and shutting the door to your ride. From this up close, it became considerably harder to disguise your staring. 

Even the scar which covered his left eye, a splash of reddish textured skin, somehow came across like yet another enhancer of his appeal. An underlying harshness which you couldn't help but be intrigued by. 

"Your hair looks even better in person."

And leave it to you to once again find a way to screw first impressions. You were chastising yourself a mere second after the words left your mouth. 

But Shouto only sent you that same hint of a smirk your way, his eyes appearing genuinely pleased at your praise. If he thought you were a weirdo and was regretting ever inviting you to his house, then he was a good enough actor for you to be fooled.

And fooled you he did, but with completely different intentions. 

"You look just like in your pictures," came his serene retort not long after.

Which you assumed was a joke, keeping in mind that the only photo you had ever sent his way had been of the Purge letter you received a few days ago.

Laughing lightly, you tried to ignore the nerves tugging at your chest before catching up with him on the steps of the building. 

As you giddily barged straight into the open jaws of the beast, it once again struck Shouto how utterly unsuspecting you were. How you trusted him so wholeheartedly.

He couldn't wait to see it all come crashing down.

。。。。。

   Inside his honest to god penthouse, your previous feeling of insufficiency only became more severe. 

The interiors were decorated sparingly, albeit fashionably. Filled with different muted shades and being unexpectedly traditional in the way they were designed. It was a stunning abode, even if you couldn't help but mentally point out how utterly unlived in it appeared.

There was not a single cup, shoe, or book out of place, everything perfectly polished and organized to the point that you felt hesitance as your sock-covered feet continued making their way through the place.

"Make yourself at home," Shouto told you most matter-of-factly. If you weren't so sure of his intentions by now, perhaps you would've thought he was being sarcastic. 

Without any of your belongings to distract yourself with, you instead gravitated towards what you could see of the kitchen through one of the sliding doors. 

It was very modern despite the rest of the aesthetic the penthouse sported, shiny stainless steel and spotless dark countertops. It should've looked out of place when paired with the carpeted floors, wooden furniture, and sparse pieces of classical Japanese art…

Yet somehow, it strangely fits. Just like his owner, you supposed, thinking back to the oddities that amounted to his unique brand of appeal.

And you really needed to stop thinking of your friend like that. 

When you heard the door to the apartment being audibly locked with a resounding click, you instantly stopped your fingers grazing the smooth countertops. Your instincts flared up with worry for a moment, right before you forcefully willed yourself to calm down.  

After reminding yourself of the true reason why you were there, the exhale you released next was one of clear relief. 

"Want something to drink?" Shouto appeared in your line of sight again, hands buried in the pockets of his pants and looking like the picture of composure. 

You felt embarrassed once again, knowing he had given you a free pass to roam but still somewhat self-conscious about intruding on his space. 

"You don't need to make me anything. I'm fine." Your timbre was apologetic, not used to slipping into the role of a guest just yet. 

He seemed strangely dissatisfied with your answer, closing some of the distance between you with a presence that had you almost flinching back for a second. 

There was an intensity in his gaze, something which you could not quite yet place. 

"But I want to be a good host. So let me." He appeared very serious about it, too, with his face growing stern as his peculiar eyes bore into yours. 

Not wanting to cause further distress, you imagined relenting would be the best course of action. 

It was like you were molded to be the perfect Darling, so wonderfully meek and gullible.

"Okay then. Water is fine."

Yet Shouto shook his head, still somewhat dissatisfied with your answer. 

"Tea it is." His phrasing allowed little space for argument. "I know you mentioned liking a few brands before, so I took the liberty of stocking up on them."

A surprising burst of laughter broke through your anxious feelings then, drawing Shouto's eyes again from the particular cabinet they had drifted to as he mentioned the beverages. 

He looked at you puzzled, an unasked question written all over his otherwise blank expression, and so you decided to reply from the surge of unexpected amusement you were experiencing. 

"It's only a night, Shou," you didn't even realize you had slipped back into his nickname, too entertained by how much he had apparently overdone his hospitality. "There really wasn't any need for you to go buy my favorite teas."

His eyes blinked quite slowly your way, his expression back to his vacant mask before a smile reappeared.

"I wanted you to feel welcomed," he supplied as he approached the cabinet he was eyeing before, dedicating himself to searching for whatever kind of flavor of tea he had in mind. 

In response, you just shrugged your shoulders with another chuckle. 

"And I didn't get you anything. You're making me feel even more out of place."

"Nonsense," he cut you off in that deadpan way of his, hands rummaging through the most ridiculously vast tea collection you had ever seen. And then he added, decidedly quieter, "today is supposed to be about you, after all."

Too bad you didn't pick up on it. 

When he ushered you back to the salon with barely a wave next, pointing at one of the cushions arranged around the short-legged table, you decided to follow his suggestion and wait there while he finished brewing the drinks. By now, you understood the futility of offering any kind of help when he was still so intent on properly welcoming you. 

So, curious as you were, your eyes continued to inspect each and every inch of the apartment, drinking up all the pieces of info you could observe, that you didn't even think of the potential dangers of letting a stranger fix you a cup while you weren't looking.

Unbeknownst to the other, you were both actively counting down the seconds until the Purge started, minds lost to your own inner turmoils from opposite sides of the suite. 

And for entirely different reasons, you were both filled with anticipation.    

。。。。。

   Meanwhile, finally back in the present after retracing the steps that guided you there, it was becoming increasingly hard to compartmentalize the chaos brewing inside you.

Shouto’s lips were the personification of hunger against yours, an inescapable gluttony to mark and consume every single inch of you he could encompass. 

After a hint of understanding returned to your body post-orgasm, your vision and the sensations you endured were becoming disturbingly vivid. It was impossible to conceive anything beyond his hands ridding you of your flimsy camisole, palms cold in comparison to the heat you felt, splaying against your sides and slowly making their way up the sensitive mounds of your chest.

“All mine, baby.” You barely registered his teeth nipping at your bottom lip until a shock of pain snapped you out of your trance.

He bit you, and quite harshly too, but when you tried to instinctually pull back his response was to hold you even tighter. Before you could attempt to voice your complaints, his tongue was darting out to clean up the droplets of blood he spilled. 

“Out of all the Darlings I’ve played with, you’re the only one I’ve ever even considered keeping, you know?”

And now that had you freezing, even amidst the cloud of desire still muddling your cognizance. His arms pressed you closer still, forcing you to bury your face against his chest, completely unphased by the bloody mess your mouth had morphed into.  

Had he tricked others before then? Was that the reason why he was even on the Forums in the first place? 

You wanted to ask him what he meant, wanted to demand explanations for a phrase that had dread closing around your neck like a noose. But whatever he slipped into your drink to keep you so awfully responsive and pliable, also appeared to make forming any complex sentences incredibly hard…

Shou, ever the receptive one, caught onto your change in demeanor rather aptly. His face nuzzled your hair softly, humming a calming melody as if you were a scared child who could be so easily reassured. Meanwhile, his hands hadn’t abandoned your breasts, still tenderly kneading them with a touch bordering on worship.

“But I’m glad you weren’t my first, baby. Means I could be all ready for when we met.” He rocked you both as he rested his back further on the sofa, opening his legs wider below you and forcing you to settle closer to his clothed groin with a whimper. 

Your arms reached out to grasp his shoulders while you tried to stabilize yourself, the strain of his erection resting snuggly against your still sensitive slit. 

"Helped me to know when to pull back," he kept confessing, purposefully thrusting into you while he kept lovingly massaging your chest, fingers twisting your hardened peaks to coax a new kind of mewl to be uttered against his skin. "Wouldn't want you to break now that I've finally found you."

The fact that your bodies seemed to fit so perfectly, even in your impaired state, was not an irony lost on you. 

Abruptly, Shouto stopped fondling your breasts in order to maneuver your face again, both of your stares meeting in a vehement standoff before he continued. 

“I’ll make this as close to perfection as I can, I promise you.” And you got a direct view of the vulnerability in his uniquely colored eyes, the nature of his words clearly heartfelt despite the atrocities they alluded to. 

As you heard him drag his zipper down, the hand clutching your jaw trembling in anticipation, you couldn’t help the new wave of warmth spreading through your body, negating all the fear and anxiousness warring inside you in order to shamefully expose your baser desires.

Now that whatever had been clouding your  judgment was pulling back slightly, your thought process had begun to snap back into place, overflowing you with a terrible sense of shame at your own reactions.

He gave you something earlier with your drink, you were sure of it, and yet you couldn’t help but still be horrified at just how much you were enjoying it. Once you felt the flushed head of his cock placidly rubbing against your thigh, the sounds leaving your mouth weren’t ones of complaint, peril or dissent.

Quite the contrary, actually, and it only made Shouto grow bolder.

As the hand clutching your face grew tenser, gripping you with force before tugging harshly, you got the hint. Now painfully following his lead, it wasn't long before the previous pressure against your legs was now resting directly against your cunt. 

The pre-cum already gathered on him mixed in with your still oozing arousal, smearing the span of your outer lips as he lightly teased you one last time. 

You were so mortified by that point, that if he had offered to end your embarrassment right then and there with one of the several weapons you knew he kept, you would’ve been very inclined to accept. 

“... I didn’t even think there was such a thing as 'The One' before, actually.” You hadn’t even realized the man was still talking, ardent whispers getting lost on the intensity of the situation. 

His eyes were searching your face, a satisfied twinkle lighting them up as soon as you returned his stare of your very own volition. Perturbed, you wondered if his delusion made him see anything beyond a twisted mix of lust and fear reflected back at him. 

“But I now know just how wrong I was, Y/N.” So sure of himself, tone back to the stern cadence you previously associated with him for a moment, gripped by a gravity befitting of his obsession. “Indeed, I think you were always meant to be my darling… don't you agree?”

To your credit, you did struggle to speak up, to gain back the control over a body which had stopped listening long ago. Too bad you only managed a single pitiful word out.

“Shouto…”

But before you could even fathom attempting a better response, he was breaching into you, sheathing himself with an ease you wished you could overlook, turning your voice from an anguished plea into outrageously labored moans. 

You had once thought Shou had been interested in you because he somehow perceived you as anything but pathetic, but you were beginning to think it had been your weakness which drew him in all along. 

So deliciously frail, that even a predator like him had been driven with an urgent need to protect you. To break you down, just so he could be the one to build you back together.

As he started fucking you with shallow thrusts, hips bucking up from the sofa while he tenderly guided you until your body was mimicked his motion on its own, you couldn’t help but be the most disturbed at his oddly affectionate ways. 

As awful as it sounded, now that your mind had awakened from its stupor all you wanted was for him to bend you over and abuse you, manhandle you and mistreat you in a way which unequivocally screamed assault. You wanted bruises painting your skin, proof that you hadn’t just willingly given up and facilitated your own ruin. 

He was humiliating you despite the pretty words he decided to disguise it as—showing you how easily he could own you and even make you enjoy it, drug-addled drink or not. 

But as his mouth latched around one of your hardened nipples, sucking generously until his name was once again fast on your tongue, you also couldn’t deny the crystal clear responses you were giving.

You could attempt to lie to yourself later, could swear it was all a delusion born out of the deranged man's mind, but the particular brand of your screams was unmistakable.

When your own hand reached down to facilitate your release, you knew you were already acting beyond what you could've previously attributed to the drugs. Toying with your bundle of nerves, you rested your forehead against Shouto's shoulders, tears from the pleasure mixing in with the subjacent agony of your guilt. 

Why did it have to feel so good? And how far did the drugs truly affect you? Or had they just peeled back your inhibitions perhaps, baring you until all you had were dark desires and no self-control to contain them. 

You still tasted blood inside your mouth when your walls started clenching around his cock, the coppery flavor entirely too vivid on your tongue. Hearing his own choked groans gasping against your chest, you felt his mouth abandoning your bud with a pop before his kisses were trailing a path back up—eager in their search of your face, your lips. 

You were still cumming by the time a lascivious kiss connected you two again, unwinding in his grasp until his hands were the only thing keeping you whole. 

“Even if I wasn't taught how,” he began promising while his rhythm grew frantic, barely resisting the allure of your core fluttering around him. “I promise I’ll love you, Y/N. Love you so good, you won’t ever want to leave when the next Purge comes.” He was getting increasingly excited by his own words, imagining a future where you did not need the aid of a little cup of tea to eagerly kiss back. “I’ll fuck you every day, fill you up and show you just how much I care. How much you matter.”

Faced with his degenerate promises, all you could do was gasp out his name one last time, perhaps seeking to express your reticence, perhaps oddly excited by the image he was painting. 

You indulged him in the pitiful sound of your whimpers molding around its syllables, and it wasn’t long before you were coaxing him to join you with an orgasm of his own.

He actually came inside, you recognized inwardly after the aftershocks of enjoyment now quieted down to a lull, a new type of dread quickly following the realization. His cum was still shooting in hot ropes, stuffing you to the brim with the intent and purpose of a man bent on marking you, owning you.

But Shouto was so loving as he kissed you time and time again, painfully reminding you of just how nice he could be for you, how gentle and attentive. It made the lines between your tormentor and a traditional lover blur even further, the confusion clouding your sense not merely born out of narcotics any longer. 

You had been so preoccupied with a monster outside your house once. A creature ripped from the kind of movies that were ripe with cheap scares and considerably cheaper thrills. 

But monsters never were like that in real life, were they? As the man continued to cradle you in his arms like the most vulnerable of creatures, you were suddenly struck by how glaringly obvious things should’ve been from the beginning. 

Because your Yandere’s obsession had not come with claws and a row of sharp teeth. No, it came instead with a suit of deception to hug its frame, the bait of acceptance, and the promise of a reliable ear to comfortably listen. It arrived with whispers that assured you that you were not alone, that it was not you who was flawed, but the world for not welcoming you. 

It dangled everything your little heart desired, so by the time you were reaching out, you were simply too distracted to notice the dangers of the abyss you were throwing yourself at.

Luckily for you, Shouto had made such a void his home. And for however long it took you to consider the darkness as your own, his was a kind of hospitality that no amount of your struggles could ever hope to wear down. 

And if the worst came to pass, if you kept stubbornly refusing and fighting despite your odds? Well…

   He could always brew you another cup of tea.

-------

Well, I can finally rest now 💀

This monster of a one-shot took me a lot longer than expected, so I ended up being a lil later to the collab that I would’ve liked. Either way, I’d really appreciate hearing any feedback or opinions on either the fic or art (or both?)... I swear that’s what keeps me motivated ;___; 

So fr, thanks to everyone who takes the time to let me know your takes! y’all are the bests of the best 🖤 And speaking of bests of best, special thanks and gratitude to the actual angels who helped and gave me feedback for both the art and/or fic @reinawritesbnha , @drxwsyni​, @wootato, @snappysnapo and @coyambition. Don’t catch me seeing y’all drop your crowns bc it’s on sight  😠 👑

[chaosbungone]

Intro post Time BABEY!!

Welcome to the blog this is the intro post wow!

Things you may wanna know about the blog poster!!

Disabled Non-binary writer, creator, and sometimes DM (dungeon master in relation to Dungeons and Dragons)

Pronouns used: primarily he/him, they/them, and neopronouns of which there is currently one, bun/buns (using these for the poster MAY make them cry as not many chose to)

Names you can use to address the poster/creator are as follows: Hades (primary/default unless changed), Merlin (secondary default), Orpheus, and Cecil (you can use them however as poster/creator will respond to all)

As the creator of this page I personally strive to make this a safe place for people to visit, as a physically and mentally disabled punk I believe everyone deserves to feel safe unless they chose to not give that same safety to those around them (ie: if you’re a TERF, white supremacist, honestly any of the -ists, or use hateful language in the ask box/in my replies prepare to be ignored for the sake of others mental health, or get verbally beat down as a response if I’m in a bad mood)

Things you might see on this blog!!

The poster of this blog is just a funky lil lad, a wizard at times, at others, a warlock, or mayhaps still quite a few other characters.

The following are things the creator likes to post, reblog, or simply just chatter about:

Writing: whether that be character analysis, stories of their own work and pride, prompts, or fun little characters they decide to test on this blog. The creator of this blog enjoys mostly horror or weird fiction, but the broad expanse of fantasy and sci-fi has been known to pique their interest especially if revolving around folktales/myth.

DnD (Dungeons and Dragons): as a dm (dungeon master) themselves the creator of this blog greatly enjoys DnD and roleplaying. They currently greatly enjoy Dimension 20, Roll 20, and The Adventure Zone campaigns.

Studying the Occult, folktales, and mythology/religion: the creator of this blog has 10+ years of religious study outside of a school based learning under their belt and actively enjoys conversation of any of the various topics there in as long as it is done with respect and the knowledge that if someone is wrong or spreading misinformation that it will be corrected in the same manner it is brought up. The creator of this blog realizes though that they are not a perfect or all knowing individual and would reserve the same right to anyone else to correct them. :)

Random bursts from hyperfixations that may appear out of nowhere: the poster of this blog has diagnosed ADHD, is on the autism spectrum and sometimes bounces around on interests so please don’t be alarmed if something completely different shows up on your dash. If the poster of this blog is unaware of something offensive in accordance with the content of a new fixation please feel free to let them know respectfully so they can wean themselves away from such content.

Tags for things:

“wizardposting”: for wizardly posts

“wizard writing”: for writing things

“hex posts for hex”: highlighted in green because it is the EVIL COLOR, exactly what the tag says “hex posts for hex” my good evil friend Hex @protosstar <3

“little jester postings”: shitposts and shenanigans via yours truly

Welcome to the blog hope you have fun and the ask box is open if you ever want to talk to any of the characters you see on this page! <|:o)

[hoe-imaginess]

red | shigaraki tomura

Shigaraki x hero!soulmate!Reader

Based on two soulmate prompts:

You can only see color when you and your soulmate are touching.

You can’t use your quirk to harm your soulmate. 

word count: 2.4k

a/n: is two soulmate prompts cheating? idk. anyways, this is just some random angst I thought of a while ago, and just recently found in my drafts. probably some typos. pretend not to see it (:

⤰⤰⤰

If there was one thing worse than recruiting weaklings, it was recruiting slackers.

Active enlistment in the criminal world had the unfortunate ramification of attracting the lowest of the lows. The last two miscreants Giran drafted for the League had used the weaponry rationed to them for petty crimes. This included the robbing of a video store. Not just any video store, but one directly down the street from the League’s hideout.

Of course, that was unacceptable.

Shigaraki had little patience for the new recruits to begin with, but it was rapidly extinguished with their hazardous act, along with any leniency he might have had for their punishment. These men had exploited the power Shigaraki gave to them, and worst of all, undermined the League’s legitimacy. The solution to this problem was clear.

Kurogiri offered to dispose of the traitors swiftly and soundlessly, but Shigaraki’s hunger for retribution against these trespassers required a personal effect. And so, Kurogiri transferred Shigaraki to the location. The men were hobbling around in the same alley they’d been found in when Shigaraki emerged from the black vapor’s of Kurogiri’s quirk.

Upon seeing him, the duo went into an indignant frenzy. They knew who he was, and without even needing to ask, without even needing to hear the promises of violence that Shigaraki muttered under his breath, they knew what he was here to do.

The confrontation lasted mere seconds. They were as meek as they were stupid, and neither men were fast enough to counter when Shigaraki grabbed for them. He dispatched the first man with voracious haste, but took his grueling time with the second.

As the man’s sleeve cracked like dried mud, pieces falling to give way to vulnerable flesh underneath, Shigaraki reveled the sight with a sickening smile.

The deteriorating man’s cries of anguish were dreadful: the cries of a man forced to confront his imminent death.

It was a sweet tune of victory to Shigaraki’s ears.

Then, something ruined it.

“Stop!”

At the sound of your voice, Shigaraki glanced over his shoulder, his feverish, red eyes glaring at you from behind Father’s mask.

A hero. A hero on patrol, Shigaraki guessed, seeing that you were fitted in your uniform.

“Put the man down,” you demanded of him, with that confident, entitled authority that heroes enjoyed, and Shigaraki detested.

But Shigaraki granted you the request, not much concerned with revenge, or the man, now that he was soon to be a pile of dirt. Indeed, the minute Shigaraki loosed his grip on the man’s arm, Decay took its freedom in stride and consumed him within seconds. The screams abruptly stopped.

Now it was just you and Shigaraki in the empty alleyway. What had remained of the forgotten men floated away in the light breeze.

Your throat was tight, acid edging its way up the back of your mouth. The scene before you was horrific. Where the distressed man had just been, now remained only dust. And the villain standing over the formless corpses was looking right at you.

Shigaraki didn’t recognize you, didn’t know what your quirk was. But it didn’t matter. He would have killed you anyways, but the fact that you’d just disrupted the recreation of his revenge was all the more reason to do so.

He took a step forward. Not to be daunted, you did the same.

“Stop right there,” you demanded again.

Just another disillusioned display of hero supremacy. Shigaraki had no patience for it.

“Stop,” you commanded, firmer now as his approach went undeterred.

The eery slowness in his gait betrayed the bloodlust he radiated; his fingers twitched with their vitalized hunger for violence, and after you’d seen the carnage those fingers extracted on human flesh, you weren’t about to let your guard down.

In an instant, he was lunging for you. His speed shocked you, and the second you spent activating your quirk for a counter-move was enough time for him to invade your space. Adrenalized fear shot through your limbs, and briefly, you wondered how your quirk might defend against his. But it didn’t matter. You were about to find out.

With surprising agility, he ducked out of the way of your defensive attack, then took hold of your forearm. His quirk descended upon your flesh. The pain registered, and your throat tightened around a cry of alarm—

But then, something in the air between you burst.

Like ripples fanning across a puddle, euphoria extended from the top of your head to the soles of your feet, filling every space inside of you as it invaded your senses.

Shigaraki suffered a similair disturbance. The explosion was almost nauseating. But even more shell-shocking was the world which greeted him once his eyes adjusted.

It first registered in his peripheral: something glaringly present, something striking against his vision—

Was that his hair? 

No, it couldn’t be. 

It didn’t look like his hair. Not the hair he normally saw shrouding his face.

But then he realized it was in fact his hair. His hair, but colored.

It stood out unimaginably stark against the drab schemes of the alley. But then, the alley too found life. Its color came to fruition: a wash of brown along the brick wall, dirtied, beige cement holding the structure together.

Then, from the periphery, the infectious color worked its way to the center of his retina. The kaleidoscope of color that was you hit him in full force. Your outfit, your hair, your face and eyes—your eyes which flicked desperately between his own, and the place where his hand made contact with your skin.

Reminded of his assault, Shigaraki looked to where his digits curled around your forearm, and took in the color of your skin. The color was intervened by another now, deeper and angrier, as fissures broke along your flesh under his Decay. Lines of destruction that had always looked grey in his monochromatic world, like topography on a map, were now imbued with life—with the real, true physical destruction.

But the new life in his vision was momentarily overshadowed by another discovery: you were still alive. Alive, and whole.

He looked again, closer, at the place where his lethal hands gripped your arm. The spread of his Decay was compromised by some unknown force, the destructive lines breaking your skin denied in their desire to consume you completely.

His quirk had been stopped. He couldn’t hurt you.

All of these discoveries happened within seconds, and for a moment, his mind lost its war with rationale. He came as near to speechless as he ever got. While his sense of the world, of its truths and realities, tried to reassert itself, he became ignorant to the dilemma before him, and lost himself in the pleasure of color.

Something suddenly caught his eye, and he glanced downward. 

Were those his shoes beneath him? 

Their vibrant color was the very same as that of the raw sinew that showed itself beneath your flesh, as it cracked away under his quirk—

Red.

That was the name of the color.

He’d heard it before: a way to describe spilt blood. It was blood he was seeing. Your blood.

And the reason he was seeing it, the reason he was granted the gift of this true sight, the reason this contact hadn’t yet ended in your demise—was because you were his soulmate.

Shigaraki pulled away, eyes wide. The color left the world, replaced with the grays he’d endured for a lifetime.

He wondered if breaking contact would elicit Decay to recover its power. His mind raced as he prepared to watch you crumble, to watch you scatter into flakes and blood and organ—

But no. Decay was still obstructed by something unseen. It had damaged you, but refused to do any more than that.

“That’s impossible,” he muttered, almost uncertain if he’d spoken it out loud or not; the fretful shock on your face, and your lack of response, giving no indication.

Apparently, you didn’t even notice the catastrophe his quirk had left on your skin. You merely stared at him, stunned into silence, consuming the same realizations he was.

Then, stirred into an involuntary need to confirm the revelations, to make certain it wasn’t some trick of the mind, you started to move toward him.

It couldn’t be, you told yourself. It couldn’t be him: this villain. It couldn’t be…

Shigaraki knew that you intended to reach out and touch him, your hand shaking as it angled upwards. But before you could make contact, he stepped back, extending his own hand not in an invitation of contact, but as a threat, his palm out and fingers ready to deliver Decay. Useless as it had proven itself to be against you, it was the only sense of control he had in the situation.

“Don’t,” he warned you, his voice weaker than he’d thought it to be.

There was a lump in his throat, centering his confusion and panic, both which spread over him in quick fashion. Mania returned to him like clockwork, a mania he often endured when facing accursed heroes. But he’d never felt it like this. Now there was anger, bewilderment, curiosity, and adrenaline all in one.

Unlike him, you worked through your confusion vocally, sputtering strings of rampant logic.

“But you’re—We—” You shook your head, and your arm moved again, inching up to him, seeking a touch that would give you answers. “We can’t be.”

Distress rushed through Shigaraki and he growled. “I said don’t.”

“It can’t be,” you kept on sputtering. “You’re a —It can’t be.”

A what? A villain? A monster? He dared you to go on. 

But even as his frustrations rose at the implications, Shigaraki concurred. You were a hero. A plague on society. But wasn’t the truth inescapable? Hadn’t that flash of colorful vibrance that nearly stopped his heart been evidence enough? Evidence that you two were fated to each other?

“It can’t be.” You said your mantra again, so close to touching him now. Kill, a voice in his head urged. Kill, kill, kill—

The pad of your finger made feather-light contact with his wrist, and the iridescence reinvented itself without delay.

All the colors that had teased him made themselves known again, bringing with them some disgusting bliss that made his insides curl with warmth. It was a delectable temptation, so overwhelming it made him nauseous.

Your eyes searched him, scrutinizing his colors and imbedding them into memory. An inkling of degradation tugged your brain as you realized the life of color you so desperately reaped was from a villain, one of the worst you’d ever encountered. Only from him would your sole, real taste of reality come.

You both pulled away this time, and the dull world of gray welcomed you like an old friend.

You shuffled back defensively, no colorful heaven able to erase the precarity of the situation. The throbbing, searing pain in your forearm returned, reminding you of the death he’d aspired to bring you.

Shigaraki stared behind Father’s fingers, eyes red and wide.

Kill, the urge came to him again. Kill you. Kill the colors, kill it all.

But he wasn’t sure if he could.

“Get me out of here,” he muttered.

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “What?”

“Get me out,” he demanded again, infuriated. “Now.”

And after brief static, Kurogiri’s dutiful voice answered from the other end of the hidden communicator. Shortly after, the promised warp gate opened against the alley wall.

Shigaraki stepped back into its gloomy arch quickly. Realizing that he made to escape, you stepped forward, eager to prevent it.

“Stop,” you pleaded, but not with the antagonistic authority you’d shown before. It was a simple, desperate plea. Shigaraki knew he was leaving you with no less confusion than he felt in his departure, but his mind was scattered, and unable to rationalize this so long as he was in your presence.

Your mouth opened around another fruitless protest, but Shigaraki was already backing into the safety of the hideout, its colorless interior granting him security.

With one last valiant effort, you shot forward to reach for him. Shigaraki stumbled back and hit the floor when you lunged for the portal, but it was too late. The warp gate conjoining you both disappeared, separating you from him for good.

With Kurogiri’s gate officially closed, and you officially out of reach, Shigaraki simply stared at the spot where you’d been eager to touch him just moments before.

He was reminded of his station on the ground when he felt the hard wood on his backside. But he didn’t bother getting up; his muscles refused him.

“Shigaraki Tomura.”

He ignored Kurogiri. He ignored it all, let it fade into the gray banality of the colorless, lifeless world around him. How else could he describe it except lifeless, now that he’d had a taste of the true world?—The colors and their vibrancy?

And what was the price of attaining this world of bliss? Knowing that his fate was tied to you. A hero. The very thing he’d dedicated himself to hate, to kill. You, a hero, his soulmate.

It was disgusting. It was cruel. It was unfathomable.

Kurogiri was saying his name again, but Shigaraki didn’t care. He instead looked down at his body, down his stiff legs to his feet. His gaze remained fixated.

His shoes. What fucking color were his shoes? Red, he knew. But what did red look like? Why couldn’t he fucking remember what it looked like?

Kurogiri’s voice was harsher now, spurred by dutiful compulsion. “If you’re injured you must let me know,” he pleaded.

“What?” Shigaraki answered, voice thin, and lost. “What happened? Are you injured?”

“No.” “Then... why did you retreat?”

Now Shigaraki looked at his hands, the hands that had tried, and failed to kill.

His quirk. His Decay. For once, his touch had bore something other than destruction; it had shown him life.

Years before, when he’d still doubted his purpose in the world, and had yet to fully commit to any ambition besides to survive, learning about the histories of soulmates had been a gratifying discovery. Learning that there might be someone out there that would see him as more than just a destroyer, more than just a wielder of such a deadly power, had inspired hope.

But now, now that he’d all but given up on the idea of a soulmate—ridiculed it, in fact, having seen the optimistic idiocy it swelled through the populace—he wanted no part in it.

He’d always known the idea of a soulmate was baseless; that two people were to be decided for each other by fate.

Fate? What did fate matter?

Only cruel fate, the very same which had left him to suffer under the mantle of false heroes in his youth, would presume to make his soulmate one of those very heroes. Only cruel fate would show him a world of colorful life, but put its key in the hands of the enemy.

And what—he was expected to willingly accept it?

No. That wasn’t his fate. It wouldn’t be. This was no blessing. Tasting the promised world of color wasn’t worth the fretful irony. It was filthy. It was greedy. It was wrong. And he didn’t want it.

However alluring the true world was, however satisfying its colors and exquisite its details, Shigaraki fought the compulsion of its visual pleasure. He wouldn’t be a slave to destiny.

“Send me back,” he suddenly commanded. Kurogiri lingered over him, nervous in his confusion. “Are you sure? But, you asked me—”

“Send me back.”

There was only one way Shigaraki would find resolution. He would have to destroy the unattainable world of color, so he would never be weak to its promise.

And to do that, he would have to destroy you.

[peachbear88]

So This is Love (Pt 3)

Inspiration: One day - Lovejoy

The moment you stepped out of Wanda's room, you were engulfed by the towering figure of Steve. "What on Earth was that? One moment she's trying to break your nose with a door, next minute she's staring at you like you're an angel sent from heaven."

"Gee, well maybe I am Rogers." You retort, pushing past him before slipping through your own bedroom door. "Good night Steve." You say, leaving him dumbfounded in the hallway.

You awake to find Tony, Nat and Peter, staring down at your drowsy face. "What the fu-!" You scream, throwing a random assortment of punches and kicks at the three faces hovering above you, catching Peter in the jaw while Nat and Tony deftly jump out of range of your attacks. "See, this is why we never do anything nice to surprise you." Nat quips, helping Peter to his feet. You rub your eyes groggily, trying to make sense of why the three of them were watching you sleep. "What the fuck are you doing in my room anyways?" You ask, still slightly drowsy. Tony's eyes widen, a small gasp escaping from his lips. "Kid... It's your mother-fuckin' birthday!" He screams proceeding to fire the confetti he had hidden behind his back. You look at him, unamused as confetti rained down, coating your room in the bright colored plastic strips. "It's too early for this shit." You mutter, flopping back down on your bed, only to be yanked out of your bedroom door by an overly enthused Tony and Peter with Nat trailing behind you.

"Come on! I've got so much planned for today!" Tony squealed, thrusting a notebook filled with activities for today. "He's more excited for my birthday then I am." You whispered to Peter, making him stifle a laugh as he scanned over your agenda. "Damn, he really outdid himself." Peter remarks as you turn the book towards yourself to see what he meant. "Small party at 8pm." You look at Peter. "That doesn't seem like too much. What do you mean he outdid himself?" Nat chuckled at your obliviousness as she pushed past you, grabbing a cup from the kitchen. "Clearly you've never been to a Stark party." You tilt your head, trying to connect the dots but clearly, morning isn't when you're at your best. "Well, if that's at 8pm, I'm going back to bed." You yawn, shuffling down the hallway towards your room but before you can even open your door, you feel a hand clamp around your wrist, dragging you towards the front door. "No way you're spending your birthday sleeping in. We're going on a run." You groan inwardly, giving a futile attempt at escaping. "But I'm not dressed for a run!" You protest. She aggressively pulls a sweater over your head and continues on her mission to get you out the door. "Now you are. No more excuses or I'll knock you out." You gulped, immediately shutting up. The moment Nat has effectively dragged you out the door, Steve, Clint and Tony burst back into the room. "Alright everyone, we've only got a few hours before Y/N internally dies and Nat is forced to bring her back so let's get to work everyone!" Tony screams as the rest of the group hustles around the compound, save for Wanda who watches as they prepare before returning to her room.

"My god... The moment I get inside, I'm showering because god knows what you'll do if I stick around." You groan as Nat pulls up in the compound's driveway, chuckling at your antics. As you push the door open, you notice how lively it is, with people left, right and centre. "Wha- I thought the party was at 8?" You sputter and Nat shakes her head. "Now you know what I mean. Nothing is what it seems." Tony runs up to you, beer bottle in hand. "Hey! Welcome to your party!!" He yells, clearly half-drunk already. You pull away slightly before yelling back at him. "I'm grateful for all the effort you guys put into this but I really want to shower first." His smile falls a bit but you cut him off before he can reply. "But after I'm done, rest assured I will be coming down here and getting drunk as hell!" You scream and he cheers, patting you on the back before you quickly dart towards your room.

When you emerge from your shower you opt for a plain dress shirt and black pants. You make your way downstairs to find the party still going strong as you slip past a drunk couple and make your way to the bar where Wanda and Nat stand, conversing away from the crowds of people. "Hello there. I see you two have gotten up close and intimate with the alcohol." You gesture to the shot glasses on the table. "That was actually all Nat. I don't drink." Wanda said, giving you a once over. "You look nice." She adds, opting for a small smile. You feel Nat's eyes on you as you give her a response. "Yeah well, you look pretty good too." You feel Wanda's eyes flick away from you and you notice her staring at a couple getting a little too close to the balcony. "Gosh, I better take care of that before they fall off and we have two dead bodies on our hands." She jokes before slipping away into the crowd. You turn back to Nat to find her giving you the most judgemental look you've possibly ever received in your entire life. "What?" You ask. She stares at you. "You and Wanda huh? You guys are cute together." You flush, the tips of your ears turning a bit red along with your cheeks. "Shut up and give me a drink Romanoff."

Wanda was now, once again wandering through the masses of people, her emerald eyes scanning the crowds attempting to find you. She sidles up to Nat who's immersed in a conversation with Thor. "Have you seen Y/N?" Nat glances up. "You mean that Y/N?" She asked, pointing upwards with a shot glass. Wanda looks to where Nat was indicating to see you, most likely drunk, singing on a table.

"And stop!"

"Cause why'd you have to kill my cat?"

"Why'd I have to take you back?"

"Time and time I play the empath."

"I don't know why"

"There's some lights on in an empty pub,"

"A toilet with the seat left up,"

"It's closure like a deer in headlights."

"One day, I know that you will be there,"

"One day, I'll focus on the future, maybe,"

"One day- Oh baby, isn't life so FU-CKING IN-CON-SISTENT!"

Cheers go up around the room as you keep singing, your eyes locked on Wanda's. Eventually the song ends with you face planting on the floor as Wanda rushes forward and catches you in the nick of time. "I think she's done for the night." Wanda excuses you and herself before helping you to your room. She plops you down on the bed and makes her way to the kitchen before returning with a hot wet towel which she presses to your forehead. She stares at your face, your cheeks tinged with pink. "Why do you treat me differently? Why do you care so much?" She mutters, not expecting a response from you. You force an eyelid open. "Because I know what it feels like." She jumps, before cautiously sitting back down on your bed. "I know what it feels like to love only to lose and go through a vicious cycle time and time again." She presses her hand on your forehead, presumably checking your temperature. "That still doesn't explain why." You turn to face her, your face still maintaining a drowsy look but your eyes appear to have some clarity. "Because I want to save you from having to go through that cycle again. I want you to have the choice to escape from that sinkhole. I want you to be different from me." You whisper before leaning in and capturing her lips in a soft kiss. She sputters, pushing you off her and rushing to the doorway. "You don't know me. I'm not like you and I don't need your help." She glares at you before slamming the door shut. You groan before flopping back down onto the bed, knowing that you fucked up.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That's it for this part! Of course, feedback is always welcome. In fact, I'd really, really love for some feedback. Hope you enjoyed this part!