#so she can read whatever he has pulled up (she doesnt know how to change the file)

[fauvester]

replace "state" with "planet" and even the old cardassian moral tales are relevant for the post-Fire world

[netherfeildren]

Forfeiting My Mystique

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader

Summary: You're a girl made of golden gossamer, a work of art come to life, and Ezra, well he's dedicated his life to collecting beautiful things.

-OR-

An Ezra Art Collector AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: voyeurism; kind of objectifying? (not sure how to tag the strange shit going on here); ezra’s weird; mommy issues; references to past childhood abuse; touch aversion/touch starved (at the same time); sugar daddy vibes; size difference; oral sex (f! receiving); butt stuff lite; dom/sub undertones; power dynamics; self esteem issues x2; panty thieving; masturbation; obsessive behavior; possessive behavior; brief mention of recreational drug use; brief discussion of parent death

A/N: This is extremely self indulgent - basically I wrote it for me, but you guys can read it too. I know I took some liberties with Ezra's characterization but whatever.

Inspo (and some of the dialogue) pulled from Lenny Kravitz’s Paris town house Vogue tour, Jeremy Strong’s favorite things GQ interview, and “Marianne” from Delta of Venus by Anaïs Nin.

Title is from the poem by the same name by Kaveh Akbar.

Word Count: 12K

Read on AO3

Ezra has always loved beautiful things. Since he was a child, his mother taught him to instill an appreciation for beauty into all facets of his world. She herself, a gorgeously beautiful creature, was well versed in such a life. But beautiful as she was, she was also cruel, selfish, capricious to her very core, and she’d turned him into a strange amalgamation of a man by proxy. At once also cruel and selfish and capricious, but hurt and soft and gnarled, as well, so that he was also made gentle and aware and hopeful. That above all else, his greatest weakness, always hopeful. Perhaps, to the point of naivety, the point of peril. For he looked for beauty in all things, and to do that, he was forced to bestow his hopeful eye upon even the ugly and harsh things of the world. 

And so he’d dedicated his life to finding those beautiful things. An art collector by virtue, they called him. A vulture, a scavenger, a treasure hunter. A man full of greed and pride, demons and too much money. All he thought of himself as, was hungry. So yes, perhaps a scavenger, a morsel of greed within the marrow of his bones, always looking for the next sublime artifact, painting, statue – person. But he also liked to think of himself as a protector of those beautiful things, of historic things. Things that changed the very face of humanity, shifted the tide of the world. A collector – always in search of the next life changing sight. Always certain the world was filled with endless possibilities for beauty, for loveliness, for sensuality, for something to captivate, to overwhelm him.

-

The first thing he sees are your feet. Standing in the gallery over from the one you’re inhabiting, people he doesnt know or give a fuck about talking at him, schmoozing and preening and prostrating themselves. Probably hoping he’ll cough up a couple million euro for whatever cause they’re pretending to crusade behind at the moment. He can see only the quarter bottom half of the famed performance artist he’d heard so much about. The entire exhibit tonight had been built around you, and it had the whole of Paris raving and ravenous for a piece of the lovely morsel they so claimed you posed as. Shallow and vain creatures that the peers of his echelon were, they were easily amused and easily bored by the smallest passing fads. At once desperate to be the first to see or speak of a thing, and consequently, the first to discard it as dépassé. 

He’d made the trek all the way to the Left Bank from his townhouse in the 16th arrondissement, to see the performance of the woman whom his associate, Oruf, had said would change the way he thought of a living creature forevermore. Big words from a little man, Ezra had no real inclination to believe. 

The angle of the wall blocks most of you from his view – granting him the sight of only your knees down. Your feet are small, he can see the tiny square shape of your nails, the gleam of them under the soft warm overhead light – lying on your side, one slotted above the other. The fine architecture of your ankles – delicate, the blue hued veins crawling like vines up the top of your foot, lost to the pale of your skin. The smooth, glossy slope of your calf, up to the flat round of your patella. It’s all he can admire from where he stands. Pretty legs, but nothing to lose one’s head over so far. 

The person talking at him is interminably long winded. Ezra would like nothing more than to beg them to shut the fuck up and be on his way. He wants another drink. He wants to see you in full. He’d heard so much about the woman sitting for the live art exhibit. You’d been heralded into a creature of myth by the wagging tongues of Paris. He wanted to discern for himself the level of sanctity you deserved. He wanted to see your face. 

Finally, he’s able to demure from the conversation, the promise of ten million euro for the charity of the sycophant’s choice, promised off-handedly – any amount of money would’ve been too little to get the gaping, begging maw to quit it’s yapping. 

He slinks along the shadows of the walls, a vulture in its natural habitat. The lights brought down to a low warm hue, meant to shape itself along the contours of your skin, bring out the soft gleam within you. Surely the oldest trick in the book, that of light and shadows. He moves further into the room slowly, your back to him. The plush round of your bottom comes into view, two little dimples gracing the low of your back, the notches of your spine, up, up, to the heavy mantle of your hair. You’re resting on your hip, your torso twisted so your chest is pressed to the chaise you lounge on, your head laying cradled in the circle of your bent arms. There is a tiny, delicate outline of a sparrow tattooed at your shoulder. He watches the slow rise and fall of your back, the shadow of your ribs – he’d feed you more if you were his. The thought comes unbidden – a little shocking – a lovely bottom, beautiful, long hair, but for a man like Ezra – one who so wholly avoided any sort of ownership by another or over another, the thought of such intimacy, something to cause revulsion, not desire, coming from his own psyche, it’s almost distressing to acknowledge as his own. 

The crown of your head gleams like a halo in the soft overhead gallery light. The room is muted, voices hushed, and the patrons rove around your unmoving body, the rhythm of your breath the only discernible sign of life on your form from back here. Oruf had claimed that you did not move a single millimeter during the entirety of the three hour long performance. He sure as fuck didn’t believe that. He was having a quite, self proclaimed, contrary and bitter season, by his own choosing, and was prone to bouts of obstinance and general disagreement at anything and everything that presented itself to him. He was choosing, as of now, to not believe in your myth.

He moves further around the center where you lay in repose. He needs to see your face. That will give him the answer he’s come here for. 

There’s a large group standing right in front of you – rudely pointing, whispering, and he feels a surge of annoyance at the sight of them. You were here to be observed, appreciated, not fucking ogled like some cheap attraction, and he was here to see you – they needed to get the fuck out of his way. 

Finally, they shuffle off, leaving the space directly in front of you open. He makes the final round above your head, comes to stand before you. Oruf had said the only part of you that moved were your eyes.

They fall on Ezra now. 

It could have been as if, in that moment, you’d gotten up, naked as Venus, to shriek directly in his face. That powerful was the force behind your gaze – a punch to the gut, his mothers handbag swinging unexpectedly, purposefully into his stomach as he scurried meekly behind her as a child. 

He pulls his Jacques Marie Mage frames from his nose. He needs to look away from the searing power of your attention. He needs a moment to collect himself, taking deep breaths as he studies the glasses, runs the tip of his finger over the bridge. He’s held frozen in place by the feel of your gaze still upon him. 

He decides in that very instant he has to have you. 

When he looks back at you, your eyes flit away. He is dismissed – made ravenous. On the verge of tears, perhaps. Look back at me, look back at me, look back at me. What sort of reaction is this to a woman whose name he doesn’t even know? Nonsensical. Perhaps it’s the sleep deprivation – the edibles he’d downed before coming, maybe he’s having a bad reaction. 

But the gift of your slow, lazy gaze roves around the space he inhabits now, everywhere but directly at him, almost like a punishment for having looked away from you first – even for a second. 

He’s never considered the prospect of trying to buy a person. The moral question or dilemma of it. He decides he doesn’t necessarily care. Whatever he has to do to get you to leave this place with him, he’ll do. What he’ll be able to bring himself to let happen after that,  if he’ll even be able to touch you, be brave enough to let you touch him, remains to be seen. Inconsequential too, he finds. 

He circles the gallery for close to an hour before he can no longer help himself, can no longer feign casualness. The rest of the art here is pale and dull in the light of your luminescence. He finally comes to a stop in a corner diagonal from where you face, in the shadow of the sculpture of Paolo e Virginia. At this moment, he feels certain Puttinati prophecised your existence, to so depict the vision of reverence he’s feeling for you in this moment. 

The performance is three hours long. In that time you don’t move your body at all, Oruf was right – lying with the stillness of marble. The only thing that moves are your eyes, and you watch the patrons closely, examine them. Your gaze is part of the art, part of the power of it. 

The visage of you is shocking, not for your nudity, but because in a lifetime filled with unimaginably lovely things, you are, by far, the most magnificently gorgeous creature Ezra has ever laid eyes on. It is like a recurring bullet to the temple over and over again for the visceral shock you pull out of him. 

Finally, finally, your gaze falls on him again. The meeting of your eyes, like the strike of lightning against the earth. He can feel his cock thicken, grow heavy, just at the touch of your gaze. It’s voyeuristic – unexpected – he can’t remember the last time he got hard. He feels almost perverted, sporting an erection at the mere sight of you, surrounded by all these people in this crowded gallery.

He can’t see your breasts entirely, pressed to the chaise as they are, only the full, pale sides. He wonders desperately at the color of your nipples, the shade, the hue. He’d like to imprint it in his mind. Know the taste of them, as well, of all your skin – wonders if the color there matches that of the skin between your legs. The thought causes hunger to climb like fire up his chest into his throat, saliva pooling heavy in his mouth at the mere suggestion of your cunt in his mind.

His eyes leave you for a moment, to cast the wide net of his gaze around the room, at the other men. He wonders if they’re hard too, if only your naked skin, lying still in repose, has the power to make their blood rush, their muscles thicken. He is not pleased by the thought of that. And when he comes back to you, you’re still on him. Gaze roaming down his body, taking in the fine cashmere sweater, his perfectly tailored suit, built to hang in a precisely designed loose cut over his shoulders, down his long legs, the incongruous sneakers, back, back up to his face, the spot of blonde at the front of his hair. A single delicate eyebrow crooks in a minute arch at him. It is all the answer he needs

You are looking back at him. It’s all he needs to know. 

As the three hour mark comes to a head the lights dim even further until only a singular overhead spotlight falls upon your form. Your skin glows, seems to flare brighter for a single moment, and then a golden sheet of gossamer begins to slowly fall from the ceiling, and right before it lands upon your body, you finally move. Your body stretches, toes pointing and curling, long arms stretched in an arc over your head. The fine lines and slopes of your body coming into startling clarity for one moment, and then you turn over, away from him, where he can’t see your face anymore, and curl in on yourself. The golden gusset falls upon your coiled form, as if you’ve finally been put to rest. The lights dim until all that’s visible is the luminous gleam of the shroud over your curled body. 

You are a girl made of golden myth and gossamer, and he must have you. 

-

“Hello, Sparrow.” He steps into the small, warm space of your dressing room.

You turn to face him, you’ve been waiting for him. “Hello,” you say slowly. “You were watching me.”

“Everyone was watching you.”

“Not like you were–”

“No… not like I was.” His accent is some strange sort of concoction of eclectic European – at once French, but also slightly Germanic, with an inflection of deep American South at the end. The vowels and consonants rolling off his tongue, smooth and hypnotizing like the warm pour of honey, and then, suddenly, inflected with a bout of sharpness. Something that snaps you awake, forces you to come to attention, to pay attention to him. That was all it was really, you could tell, a forceful, demanding grab for attention at all times. He called it to himself, seduced the people around him into ardor. Whether they knowingly chose to be entranced or not, was not up to them.

“Ezra,” he gives an imitation of a little flourished bow. You give him your own name in return. “You were watching me back.” 

“I couldn’t help it.” He had demanded it of you, after all, no need to lie now. 

“I was wondering if you’d have dinner with me.” You turn back to continue packing your bag. 

“I’m not very hungry.” You feel him come closer, hear the subtle hint of pleading desperation in his sensual voice that has pleasure coiling deep in your belly. 

“A drink then.”

You’d like to be on clear ground with this man who you can see, even now, is an enigma not to be trifled with unconscionably. “Where? At your house?” you turn to crook a sardonic brow at him.

“Would you like me to take you to my house?”

“Yes. If that’s what you want too.” You’d already decided, didn’t see the point in prolonging the game. 

-

His security takes you out the back of the gallery, dark Maybach rolling smoothly up as soon as you reach the curb, and you feel the searing phantom  heat of his large palm hovering over the small of your back. 

He hasn’t touched you a single time yet, and everything within you is coiled tight, waiting for that first graze. 

He pulls the car door open for you himself, and then his driver is there, smoothly offering you his hand to help you step into the sleek interior. The leather beneath you is buttery chocolate brown and you press your thighs together. His security had taken your bag from you, and you felt bereft and listless without the protective clutch of it within your hands now. 

He follows after you, sliding gracefully onto the seat across. You can see he’s wearing two gold chains around his neck that rest in the dip of his collarbones, and your mouth waters at the sight. The car pulls quietly away from the curb and then you’re merging into the busy city traffic, ensconced in the quiet of this liminal space he’s stolen you into with him. 

He crosses one knee over the other, one thick arm thrown languidly over the back of the seat. You can see a small gold signet ring gracing his pinky – some sort of crest emblazoned on it. 

Fucking family crest kind of rich. God. You don’t know if you’re prepared for this. 

You cock your head to the side, the muscles in your neck are a little stiff and sore from holding your pose for so long, and you let your neck roll back on the head rest. 

He’s quiet, still observing, as if you’re still existing within the walls of the gallery, and not being spirited away to his home so that he might have his way with you. 

“Are you going to fuck me?” Might as well be blunt, you think, now that you’re here. He was so gorgeous in that room, watching you, circling you like a beast hunting in the wild. There was really no other way this night was destined to end, but with you beneath him, taking him into your cunt. 

“Would you like me to fuck you?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t respond, only gives you a melodic little non-committal hum, continues to look at you from the seat across with those deceptively guileless eyes. You want him to snatch you by the chin and spit in your mouth.

-

The drive ends in front of the grand façade of a pristine Parisian townhouse on a secluded street in the 16th arrondissement – flanked by national embassies, no less. 

You are very, very far from home. In a Paris you’ve not ventured into in all your years of living here. 

He helps you from the car, finally, finally, finally, thick palm wrapping entirely around the thin of your wrist. Everything within you coils and pulses, tight and wet. His skin is warm and dry, you can feel the pull of rough calluses on his palm. You’re sure he can feel the hammering staccato of your pulse through the thin membrane as you stare at the way his fingers overlap completely around the circumference of your limb.

He lets you step into the foyer ahead of him as one of his staff sweeps the door open for the two of you, ready and waiting for their master to return with a respectably quiet, monsieur, mademoiselle, in greeting. There’s a huge Basquiat in the entrance hall, across from the sweeping staircase.

“Lots of his art came my way,” he says at your obvious admiration, shock, desire to tuck tail and run back home. “We weren’t friends, but I was roommates with a guy he’d lived with. His last girlfriend was best friends with my girlfriend at the time, so when he died we had one of the first calls.”

“It’s wonderful–” Your voice is full of awe, eyes taking in a type of home you’ve never seen before up close like this. Something out of a picture book that sits on the coffee table of someone wishing for more. 

“How many bedrooms does it have?”

“Well… they get used for different things – so I’m not sure. Let’s call it eight.”

You huff a small laugh, run your finger along the keys of the opulent crystal Steinway. “Let’s call it eight, sure.”

Now that you’re here, that he hasn’t overtly said he’s brought you here for sex, you don’t really know what it is he wants from you. A bad thought, but an honest one. 

“Drink?”

“Yes, please.”

He leads you into an elegantly lush reception room, hovering hand again at the place above the small of your back. There’s a gargantuan crystal chandelier hanging at the center of the room, two enormous elephant tusks flank the elaborate mantelpiece. The room is a mix of eclectic eccentricities, both neutrally elegant and demure in its obvious wealth, but inflected with touches of vibrant color and idiosyncrasies to bring the room together in a way that you think must reflect the house’s owner. 

He moves to the bar, choosing the green bottle of twenty year Laphroaig and pours a knuckle into two crystal tumblers. He’s quiet, subdued, and the lack of small talk to fill the silence has the backs of your knees itching and sweating. 

There’s a glossy red panther sculpture prowling across a gold and ivory lacquered coffee table. He comes to hand your glass to you. “That’s a museum piece. I can’t remember where I got it, but it’s rare.” You can’t tell if he’s trying to boast, to impress you, or merely share his satisfaction at owning a piece of art worthy of a museum's gallery. You’d already discerned that at the Basquiat’s first glance, shit, at the first sight of the house. It was a veritable museum on its own. You were sure the number of museum pieces in every room were too many to count in a single night, nay week. 

You don’t sit as he goes to do, but start to slowly circle the room. An imitation of his slow roving of you earlier at the gallery. The peat whisky is bold and smoky, a surprising hint of something akin to seawater, but also mellowly sweet. You think that this must be what his skin tastes like, his come – an amalgamation of all the different flavors on the wheel. Saliva pools heavy on your tongue and you take a deeper sip, eyes flitting to him. 

“Three hours is a long time to lay so still,” he says. 

“It is. But I’m used to it by now.”

“You must be tired.”

“Not particularly – perhaps a bit stiff.”

“Have you been doing this for a long time?”

“Not so long, but not so short, either.”

“So just the right amount?”

“Yes.” He’s quiet for a moment then, still watching, watching, watching. His gaze upon you feels like the drag of a specter’s fingers along your skin, goosebumps rising in its wake. You wonder if this is how he felt while you watched him in the low light of the gallery. Hunted. But no, you imagine there isn’t anything that could make a man such as this feel like prey. 

“Can I draw you a bath?” You pause at this – firmer, more familiar ground, finally. This is what you’ve been waiting for. His request for you to get naked for him, to let him into your body. It’s what you want also. He’s not rushing this, and it’s making you feel unstable, unsure of the ground you’re treading here together. 

“Yes, I’d like that.”

-

He leads you upstairs, to one of the guest bedrooms. The en suite, one of his favorites in the house – dark marble tub in the center of the room under a low hanging crystal chandelier. The French windows let in the soft glow of the moon outside, and he draws the bath for you as you peer through the glass. The reflection of your face in the windows, eternally distracting. 

When the water is warm and ready, a splash of Neroli Portofino Body Oil poured under the stream, he turns to you. He’s hesitant – both of himself and you, equally. It’s been a long time since he’s touched a body not his own, and he feels the slight anxious tremor of his hands. Although he can’t be sure if that’s strictly attributed to nerves, or all the blood in his body pooling in his cock at the moment. 

“Can I take your clothes off?” said as gently as possible, so as not to spook you.

Your gaze is as direct as it was while you lay watching him, surrounded by half of Paris. “Yes.”

He starts at the tiny bow holding the front of your soft silk blouse together – the weave so fine, it’s almost translucent, and he can see the outline of your evasive nipples he’s been so desperate to see. He pulls on the string letting the neck of the blouse fall open, then down to the tiny pearl buttons holding the rest of it together. All without touching your skin. 

You’re panting, face already flushed, eyes bright, almost fevered. His balls are tight and heavy, ready to come, just with this. Just at the mere fucking vision of you ready and panting for him. His belly clenches and then he pushes the silk off the fine bones of your shoulders. The wings of your collarbones, the shadow of the dip in them the most tempting image he’s ever beheld in his entire life. He wants to dip his tongue into the tiny pool, fill them with ambrosia and drink directly from your skin. 

He feels his cock begin to leak. 

The zipper at the side of your skirt is next. He watches the rise and fall of your ribs, the tremble of your throat as he pulls it down slowly, revealing the rest of your skin to him. There’s a tiny lace thong around your hips, robin's egg blue. Oh, he will be stealing that for himself. 

He finally lets himself touch your skin as he pushes the scrap of lace down your legs, crouching smoothly to his knees to help you step out of it. He takes in the sight of your small feet up close now. The fine tendons of your musculature entirely too fucking beguiling. He ghosts the tip of a single finger over the top of your foot and you moan for him. So goddamn sweet and wanton. 

He unfolds to his full height and pockets your panties. To be inspected at a later time, pressed to his nose and mouth so that he might drink the scent of you down into himself. He tips his chin at the tub now, holding your wild gaze, breaths coming in short little gasps. Your cheeks are flushed the color of your nipples. The tiny wisps of hair at your neck and temples beginning to curl deliciously in the humidity of the bathroom. He could spill his seed just at the look in your eyes, he’s sure of it. 

“In,” he orders, crowds you towards the edge of the tub and grips the bend of your elbow between his thumb and index finger – as little contact as possible – to help you into the water. “Sit.”

You immediately obey, and that fills him with more pleasure than the sight of your naked skin. The control you’re granting him right now, allowing him the privilege of ordering you for the sake of his own comfort – he’s going to reward you very well for being so good for him.

He bends over the edge of the tub, hovering over your beseeching upturned face. He brushes his thumb softly over your full bottom lip. “Good girl.” Your eyes flutter shut, you look down into the water, a lovely pink blush blossoming over your cheeks. “Relax. Soak for a while.”

He can tell you want him. Badly. The flush of your cheeks down to your breasts, rosy little nipples peaked, your quick breath. That want, compounded doubly by his refusal so far to really touch you — his inability. The more he stays his hand, the more you want him, and the more you want him the harder his cock grows, the more frightened he becomes. He thinks it’s very true, that old adage, the harder you try to push a woman away from a man, the closer she will go to him by virtue of rebellion.

You sit in the warm bath for close to an hour, and he watches rapturously, hypnotized by the slick wet of the water rolling over your skin, from his seat on an ottoman at the center of the room. The weight of his gaze on your skin, almost violent in its intense desire. He wants to lick every single droplet from your body and then bite into the heavy lush weight of your tits until his teeth are imprinted in the soft flesh, bruises sucked into the pale globes. He hopes you’ll let him. He hopes he’ll let himself. 

Your returning look is equally wanton. He watches your gaze trained and hungry on the heft of his cock hiding beneath his trousers. You spread your legs for him beneath the water as you wash yourself, putting on another show, private, just for him. An unjustly jealous wrath stirs within him, coiled and hissing, at the thought of any other human on earth ever getting to see you the way he is now. Largely a passive man, the violence that surges within him has him surprised and not, in equal measures. For he thinks that no being ever having beheld you, could ever possibly be driven to feel any other way than obsessively possessive over such a creature as yourself. You’re like a siren in this moment, languishing in the warm water of his bath, in his house, where you agreed to come with him tonight. A nymph willingly slinking into the depth of Tartarus, knowing she’s in peril of being wholly devoured by the beasts that lay at its depths, and still going anyways. 

He helps you out after a while, tiny little fingers and toes soaked to wrinkles, elbow once again caught between his two fingers, and the heat rolling off your skin sears him. Has a violent tremble running jaggedly down his vertebrae. 

He wraps you in a plush white towel, pulled from the warming rack, helps you dry your long hair. Then goes to his room for one of his shirts to put you in. He pulls one he’d worn a few days ago off the pile from the chair in the corner. He wants to know you’re sleeping in something that’s already been on his skin, that smells like him, that you’re soaking now in his own scent. 

As he pulls the towel from around your body to once again reveal your bare form to him he presses a soft kiss to your naked waist – can’t help himself, the soft slope entirely too beguiling. Overtaking any apprehensions he may have, and his gut clenches with fear and desire. He can feel the weeping of his cock dribble down his thigh as he presses his lips to the warm, fragrant skin. 

You’re quiet, watching him, letting him do with you as he wants. His own little sentient doll, created for his pleasure only. “I have a farm in Brazil,” he says. He rounds your form, starts to braid the long strands of your hair into a single plait. You put up no protest – it feels like water, slipping through his hands.  “We grow organic fruit and vegetables and there’s cows, lots of cows. We never kill them, they just live there, graze.” One of his favorite places in the entire world, but perhaps, second to the place he resides now, staring at you, dressing you, touching your hair. “I love it there, I’ll take you.”

“Okay,” you say easily. “I’d like that,” the gift of the gentle curve of your smile. He wants to lick into your mouth, fuck you with his tongue, slap your pussy and watch the blood rush to the surface, feel the tight clench of your asshole as he fills you with his come. 

“Will you let me watch you play with your cunt?” he asks gently.

“Won’t you do it?”

“I’m scared to touch you yet – to find out if you’re actually real.” He feels an uncharacteristically self conscious blush mar his cheeks. “I–I’m not ready. I want to watch first.” He comes to kneel between your parted thighs that dangle off the high bed. “Pet your cunt for me – show me how you like it, sweet girl. Please.” He is not above begging. Not for this. Not for you – for the sight of you playing with your wet, pink pussy. 

You spread your legs wider, give him the tantalizing peak of your bare sex, your glistening folds. You’re already fucking wet for him. He feels an unrestrained growl claw up his throat like fire. His mouth goes dry, parched. The only way to sate himself, to drink straight from the source of your glossy slick. 

You press your fingers to the pearl of your clit, swollen and needy already, he can see. You start to swirl little circles over your slippery flesh, your wet mouth falling open in a gasp. “That’s it, yeah–” he whispers, bringing his face in closer to the apex of your thighs so he can smell you directly from the source. His eyes flutter as he breathes in the scent of you, the deep amber and citrus from the bath oil, but beneath that, entwined in the rich notes, the musky scent of you. Fucking mouthwatering. He hears himself moan, the sound pulled almost unconsciously from his body. 

“Inside– put your fingers inside. Let me see you fuck yourself.” You press a single finger in, all the way to the last knuckle, and start to rock your hips. He can feel your gaze on his face, the weight of it heavy and pleading.

“Ezra– p–please, please, you do it,” you beg, let your head roll back as you press another finger in and start to rock your clit against the mound of your palm in earnest.

“But you’re doing so well, sweet girl. About to make that little cunt come for me. Look–” He gives you the weight of a single palm on the bend of your knee and you moan deep and ragged at just that compact touch. He can’t help himself – he pulls the edge of the t-shirt up to bare your tits to him and holds it up against the base of your throat where he cradles the delicate column in his hand – the entire large span of him completely engulfing your smallness. “Your thighs are trembling, treasure. You’re going to do it just for me, aren’t you?.”

“Y–Yes, yes–” 

He pushes your knee in his grasp wider, opening you more for the fileting of gaze. “Make yourself come – I want to see it. Fucking come,” it’s a demand you answer, just the sound of it causing the heat of your skin to seemingly ricochet even higher. You start to come – he watches the clenching of the muscles in your stomach as you grind your fingers deep. He can hear how wet you are, the sopping wet squelch of your pulsing cunt, and he worries for one second that he’s about to come in his pants. 

You let out a reed high mewl, like you’re singing just for him. “What a good, good girl you are,” he praises, and your eyes flutter shut, pulling your fingers away so that he’s left to admire the clenching of your stretched hole. He can see the glossy shine of your slick sliding down the crevice of your ass, and he wants to lick through your sticky arousal so fucking badly he bites down on his cheek until he tastes blood. He bends his head to press his brow to the edge of the bed between your spread thighs, tightening his grip around your knee until you whimper in pain. He loosens his hold immediately, thumb brushing soothingly over the bend before he stands, lets out a long breath. He stares down at your panting, flushed form. Wet and sated after your orgasm. Fuck all the art in the world. He’d set fire to every single masterpiece he owns in this very moment if he was granted the gift of getting to watch you come even one single time more. 

He passes his palm over his mouth, feeling the soft bristles of his scruff. He’d like to see the smooth insides of your thighs rubbed raw with it, he’d like to see the stretch of your cunt as he stuffs you full of himself, the milky white of his spend leaking from all your holes. 

“It’s time to put you to bed,” he says instead. 

Your brow creases in the sweetest little frown, red mouth puckering, still panting. “You’re not staying?” 

“No, sweet girl. I think it’s best if you sleep here tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“But–”

“It’s alright. There’s no rush.” He leans over you to press a lingering kiss to your brow, pulls his shirt down to cover your breasts. You give him a little whimper, and he allows your hand to come up to clutch the thick swell of his bicep, the heavy muscle there bunching at the feel of your grip. He moves to help you settle beneath the silk duvet, pleased beyond belief at the sight of you tucked into a bed in his home, wearing his clothes, flushed and wearing the sated look of a recent orgasm. 

“Goodnight, treasure.”

“Goodnight, Ezra.”

-

You find his room later. You can’t help yourself, following the glow of the soft light spilling between the crack of his slightly open door, like he’d left you a bread crumb trail to follow, like he knew you’d come searching. You can’t sleep knowing he’s so close, this dazzling creature come straight from a dream. Twisting and turning in the plush monstrosity of a bed he’d left you in. His shirt, butter soft, the dark, gray blue swimming around your much smaller frame. It smells like him, his cologne – you recognize the scent of Le Labo Another 13. Musky with the softest most subtle hint of jasmine, paired with something earthier – greener, and folded between all that: the soft saltiness of his sweat.  Why would you sleep when a figure from your very fantasies was right here in the flesh. Your cunt clenches, wet and aching, even after he’d watched you make yourself come. You need more, want to feel the press of his cock inside of you, the heavy weight of it. 

He’s sitting up in bed, reading something on an iPad, glasses propped low on his nose. He looks up at your small knock, not waiting for his permission to slip inside. 

“I promise, I’ll be good.” You hold your hands up in surrender. “I won’t touch you. We can put a pillow between us if you like.” You move towards the bed.

There’s a large stack of books sitting on his bedside table, flooded by the warm moss stained light of the antique Tiffany lamp. A single idiosyncrasy of old world charm in a room made stark by its bright modernity. The pile is made up of a book of paintings by Howard Hodgkin, the diaries of Alma Mahler, The Spectator Bird by Wallace Stegner, the fourth volume of In Search of Lost Time – you appreciate his excellent taste – and at the very top, laying open, facedown, as if he’d just put it down a moment ago, My Struggle by Karl Ove Knausgaard. You find it fascinating to see a book that spoke of life in such a granular way — realistic, simple, a normal man in a normal world, speaking in such extensive, caring detail on the small things in his life — on the bedside table of this enigma, this person who seemed to be, by far and large, a different species to all other men you’d ever met before. To see the spine so cracked and worn — as if he’d read it over and over again, in search of the equation for that simplicity, to thus inject into his own existence – a way to embalm his own world in such appreciation for the small but infinitely significant moments. You wonder if it’s taught him much— if he’s been able to find and implement whatever it was he’d searched for through so many reads. 

“Alright,” he says easily, but the look in his eyes is slightly wary. You recognize Glenn Gould’s rendition of the Goldberg Variations playing softly on the surround sound as you crawl into his bed – under the silk smooth sheets, bringing a pillow to blockade you from him, protect him. You don’t want him to be uncomfortable, but you desperately want to be close to him also. The two of you have barely talked tonight – too caught up in the observation of one another, like two animals circling in the wild. You want to talk to him. Want to hear the sound of his deep voice vibrate through your nerve endings. 

“Intimacy is… difficult for me,” he says slowly, swallowing. “It’s hard for me to get close to people… emotionally, physically. I need time to — I suppose, to warm up to them.”

“That’s — that’s okay. I understand,” you say, because you do, because you’re the same in many ways. 

“It’s why I love art,” he continues. “You can be close to something, feel its warmth, beauty – whatever feeling it is the artist intended to pull out of you, from a distance. Untouched – it’s untouchable. That comforts me for some reason.”

“I think – I think I understand that as well. Something, perhaps, about the idea of a thing remaining as it was initially conceived as, for all time, undisturbed by outside influences.”

“Yes – yes, exactly.” His eyes are alive with the fire of being understood.

You look down at his straining erection. You can’t help it. “You’re hard,” you say. You want to touch him so badly it’s a physical ache inside of you. 

“I’ve been hard since I first saw you.”

“Let me help.”

He shakes his head, “Not yet.”

“I was embarrassed that the other patrons would be able to tell how wet my pussy was lying there staring at you.” Shocking words. His eyes flutter shut, fuck, he murmurs under his breath, brings his hand up to rub at his jaw. You’ve noticed he does that a lot – a tell of sorts. He takes several deep breaths, the tension seeming to seep out of his body by sheer force of will. 

You take him in as he settles back into the pillows, relaxing, or at least pretending to. His face, smooth and serene, laying there watching you, despite his heavy erection, but the look in his eyes – it’s also slightly provoking. As if he wants you to challenge him, question him, but also afraid, perhaps, that you’ll force his hand, that he’ll be forced to give in to what you both want before he’s ready. You decide to choose mercy – change the subject. More curious to see how he chooses to play this out.

“Let’s play the question game.”

“The question game?”

“Yes.”

“Very well,” he turns to lay on his side, facing you. Both of your hands are tucked beneath your cheeks. He’s wearing a soft, worn sweater, a tiny hole at the collar, the sleeves stretched and overly long. Oh, this may just be too much for you to handle. 

“We’ll start with something easy – what’s your favorite color?”

“That’s easy?”

“Yes.” You roll your eyes at him, laughing.

“Depends on the day,” he says very seriously. His blinks are slow, his pupils huge and dilated in the warm light of the lamp. You wonder if he’s taken something. Every time he blinks the thick fringe of his lashes fans over his cheeks, the pause of his languor allows you a moment to appreciate them.

“That’s not an answer – you have to give a real answer.” You want to reach your finger out and brush along that thick fringe, through the patchy hair on his face, threaded through with the smallest hint of silver, stick your nose in his hair and smell him right at the source. 

“It’s the only real answer there is – no one’s favorite color stays their favorite color forever.”

“Do you do this a lot?”

“What’s that?”

“Make things purposely difficult.”

A flash of his brilliant white teeth, “Oh, always.” You want very badly for him to bite into your flesh. 

“Okay, fine. What’s your favorite color right now?”

Without hesitation: “The color of your eyes – they’re very strange,” you can tell it’s a compliment, and he finally touches you again. A single finger, just the tip, to the point of your chin, tilting your head back slightly for his inspection, as if you were one of the pieces in his collection. You think you may become one by the end of this. You think you’d like that very much. You can feel the slight edge of his fingernail dig into your soft skin. 

“I already agreed to fuck you. You don’t have to woo me,” you breathe. You realize that, as of yet, he’s not overtly asked you to have sex with him – you throw the words out anyways, hoping to provoke him. This is too much. This man is too much. You don’t know what it is about him, but you want him desperately, like no one you’ve ever wanted before. You want him to overwhelm you – to take you by force. To take all choice and will and autonomy from your hands. You don’t care what will come of this, what will become of you after he’s done with you, if he discards you, forgets you –  none of that matters. All you care about, in this moment, is that he finally decides to take you, that he gives you the opportunity to let go, to relinquish control. To unfold from the pose for just a moment. A slightly deranged spark fizzes in your belly. Your heart pinches a burning little pain at the thought that he hasn’t kissed you yet, that you still don’t know the taste of his mouth. 

“None of my answers satisfy you. And yes, I do need to woo you. I find it very necessary.”

You try and emulate an unaffected scoff, his finger is still on your chin, but you feel your brow unwittingly fold into a confused frown. There is a tight knot of want coiled at the very center of you, burning hot and smoldering, and you need him to pick it apart with these strong fingers. He takes his hand away. The look on his face is very telling. He can read everything going on in your mind, you can tell. He looks like the cat that ate the goddamn canary. You try and take a deep, calming breath. “Alright, now you have to ask me one?” you divert. 

“Me?”

“Yes, you – that’s how the game works. I do one, you do one.”

“Alright,” he’s quiet for a second, contemplating, “Do you have siblings?”

“No, I’m an only child. Do you?”

“I had a brother, Damon. He died when we were younger.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Yes, well– it was a very long time ago. But thank you. His daughter, Cee, is my ward now. ” Not his niece, not someone mentioned in any capacity as his family. The connection, maintained as if at a distance — his ward — cold. But he gives himself away, his tender vulnerability made transparent, with the sudden flash of bright fondness in his eyes at her name, despite his trying to remain aloof. You are not so easily fooled. You see him despite his attempts to deflect from the true core of himself. 

His gaze is so mercurial – at once relaxed, uncaring, and then flaring into something bright hot like a flash fire. But remote, remote always. Like the very center of him, his true gaze is very far away, very deep within him, and this gaze, the one he presents to the world, is merely a farce, a mask. A shroud he pulls over himself to keep others out. His own golden gossamer. You’re shocked that he’s shared this with you. 

“My parents died when I was very young,” you offer, your own morsel of ragged soul in the face of his sudden vulnerability. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, as well.”

“It wasn’t so bad, after the fact. I went to live with my aunt – my mother’s sister. She was a dancer. My childhood was… unconventional, but wonderful.”

“What about it was unconventional?”

You laugh a little, looking up at the coffered ceiling above you, the thick beams a rich, glossy mahogany. You feel his gaze on your face like a brand. He has not stopped looking at you since he first started. In a sea of years being observed, his gaze is singular in the pleasure it brings you.

“She was a dancer. I mean—” you hum, “What wasn’t unconventional about it? We lived in New York for several years, then Budapest for a time, and then she brought us here, to Paris, where we stayed until her death – where I’ve stayed since. Her girlfriends were always around – fellow dancers, costumes and makeup, drinking and men. They taught me how to smoke when I was eight — Gauloises like a fucking chimney, at all hours of the day, after that — I forced myself to stop a few years ago. Now I only have one on special occasions, sometimes.” He looks at you like he knows you’re the sort to make a special occasion out of a trip to the market. “She had many lovers. Parties… disaster everywhere, but the riotous, happy sort – not the tragic kind.”

“No?”

“No. Perhaps, to the outside eye it may have appeared different… I don’t know. No life for a child, I think. But it was wonderful. She always protected me. But– but never like a mother. She was never like a mother – more like – a friend, or an older sister.” You laugh fondly at the memories, but also a little sadly. In the eyes of an adult now, you’d never want such a life for a child of your own, as exciting as it was at the time.

“One time someone told me I ended up as I did, naked for the world to ogle at, as a means to earn money, because of her. Because of how she was. And perhaps they were right, but… but not in the way they meant —  to insult me. She taught me what art was, gave me the means to turn myself into it.” 

“Who the fuck said that to you?” His tone makes you look back at him now. All the mystery in his gaze is gone, only fury burns now – very clearly. If he’d let you, you’d cup his cheek, soothe him. 

You can see he isn’t ready yet, though. So all you say is: no one that really mattered – the truth, but you can see that it does not soothe him. 

 “What about you? What was your mother like?” You can appreciate how easily distracted he pretends to be, the deception of it, merely another shroud. 

Another one of his long pauses, filled with his eyes on you. He gives you the gift of his touch again. Thick fingers picking up a strand of your hair, running it between his grasp. You feel the slight ghost-like tingle of the tug along your scalp, there but also not, and a jerking shiver moves through you. All the hair on your body standing on end. Fuck, this man. 

“She was very beautiful – very cruel,” he says slowly, mesmerized by your hair sliding through his fingers. 

“Cruel to you?”

“To the world.”

“Why?”

“But also me.” Succinct in its truth. The thought is a terrible one – for anyone to have been cruel to this magnificent dream of a man. The backs of your eyes pinch. Another long pause. “Hmm,” he tilts his head side to side, still sliding your hair through his fingers, twisting it gently around his hair. He gives it a tiny tug, and you want to scoot forward, even just the smallest bit, just to be a little closer to him, to feel the brush of his belly against yours with the movement of his breathing. “It’s difficult to say – unhappiness, bitterness, boredom. A great and complicated concoction of things that made her into the eternally complex creature she was.”

“She died?”

“Yes. She killed herself.”

“Ezra– I’m so sorry,” the words leave you choked and breathless. 

He says it so plainly, starkly, like a slap to the face, one not meant to cause pain or harm, but shock. One meant to cause fear, something to say, look at how fucked up I am, stay away or I’ll infect you with it too. You scoot closer now, you can’t help it, and he goes immediately still, frozen – eyes wide, hesitant, but you don’t touch him. Your hair is still clutched in his hand, and his eyes move back and forth between your own and his hold on you. You’re close enough now, though, that you can feel the heat rolling off his body. Your eyes flutter shut, you say again: “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“She was too vain to grow to old age.” You feel him relax, comforted by the indication that you’re not going to touch him just yet. “I think she felt it was the only recourse for her.”

You open your eyes again, and he’s still staring at you. You so badly want to know what he’s thinking, to feel the press of his mouth against yours, to know the taste of his tongue, the feel of his incisors pressing into your skin. 

You pivot three-sixty again: “Do you want kids?” He lets out a loud barking laugh at that, head thrown back so the tendons in his neck jump out starkly. Your cunt clenches around nothing. Wet and jealous. 

“This is a very difficult game,” he says, giving you a sly look. 

“We don’t have to play anymore, if you don’t want to.” A great lie – you never want to stop playing with him. 

“No, I want to keep going.” He slides his whole hand into your hair now, palm cupping the entire side of your head in its broad expanse, and you can’t help the desperate moan that claws out of your throat. His responding hum is all-knowing.  “I don’t know. But I love being… I like being able to imagine it.”

Your mind has been lost to a daze induced by the heat of his palm. “Children?” you murmur.

“Yes.”

Your fingers are twisted into the front of your shirt, clawing at yourself to maintain respect for his boundaries. “I want them. Lots of them. I hated being an only child. I always felt alone. I want to have lots of babies.” And his eyes flare with heat at that. The first blazing sign of lust in them tonight. Everything else before this, you realize, was merely a low simmering boil. The fist in your hair tightens so that your head tilts back slightly, the line of your throat exposed for his eyes to follow. 

“Lots of them?” You nod your head minutely, wide eyed, equally ensnared by that look in his gaze as you are by his hand. 

“Then you shall have them, Sparrow.” You let out a shuddering breath, turn your face into the pillow, enjoying the slight pull to your sensitive scalp as his hand follows, try to breathe deep, temper your racing heart. You’re so wet, you can feel it seeping out of you in a constant throbbing stream. The conversation serving as a more intense form of foreplay than anything else you’ve ever done with a man. 

“It’s my turn again. When was the last time you fucked someone?” Blunt – thrown at your face to throw you off kilter. Oh, he fucking loves this. A broken little whimper claws out of your throat at that. Your cheeks are flushed, you can feel them burning, and he knows exactly what he’s doing. The smug look in his eyes taunts you, tells you he knows just how soaked you are. But it is also wild, as wanting as you are. 

“Hmm?” he presses.

“Three years ago.” It’s his turn to be shocked now. You see the pause of surprise in that bright light within his gaze. 

“Three years? Why?”

“You’re not the only one who finds it difficult to be close to people.”

“And yet you agreed to come here with me?”

“And yet I agreed to come here with you.” You don’t return the question. You wouldn’t like to know, you don’t think. And you can tell he sees that in your gaze, for he doesn’t offer up the information either. You like the mystique of him. Like some eldritch beast, a deity of old, something amorphous, not to be contained or understood. The unknowable aspect of him is appealing to you for reasons you haven't quite figured out yet, despite this game of questions you’re flirting with. 

You go next: “Are you lonely?”

“Yes, very.” A pause, and then: “You are too.” This is no question. He can see it, recognizes the same scent of it that permeates the air around him, following you. “You seemed it, laying in the center of that crowded room, naked – bared for everyone to see.” It is not said cruelly. He is only telling you that which you already know about yourself, that which is plain for the whole world to see. “And then shrouded in gold, as if you wanted to hide that vein of aloneness that flows through you – it didn’t work very well.”

“Do you think everyone could see it?”

“No.” Good. You only wanted him. 

You take another turn, you can’t help but break the rules with him. “Have you ever been with someone who– who you didn’t really want to be with, but you were– you were so lonely and needed… something… or someone?” All the surety you’d posed your previous questions with is gone now. He’s already discerned so much of you, what’s a little more bared skin? “So you just– you just settled for being with that person even though you knew it was wrong, and the only thing on your mind was the other person you really wanted to be with?”

Without hesitation: “Yes.”

“I think that’s the only type of relationship I’ve ever had. Although, the other person hasn’t really existed – just – just something I’ve thought up in my own head.”

“I accidentally called her by the other person’s name. She never spoke to me again. It was terrible– terrible of me.”

“I want to touch you so badly,” you plead suddenly. Unable to hold it in anymore in the light of all he’s shared with you. Your voice cracking and begging. “I want you to touch me, so badly.”

“I know.” Yes, he does. “You want me to fuck you.” All you can do is let your eyes flutter shut, try to continue to breathe, nod your head. 

“Why was your mother cruel to you? What did she do?” You feel like crying now. 

“Many things… I had terrible night terrors as a child. Scared her half to death. I’d scream and cry and sleep walk. For years. She didn’t know what to make of me. Some sort of demon come from her very womb to possess and haunt her house. She hated me – would lock me in a closet furthest from her bedroom to keep my howling away from her.” 

The blazing heat of anger floods your cheeks, your eyes filled with tears, and he clicks his tongue, smoothes his thumb over the slope of your cheek. “None of that, sweet girl.”

“You were just a little boy – she should have– she should have comforted you. Helped you.”

“It wasn’t in her nature. You cannot fault a thing for not being what it was never made to be. She was a killer of soft things – within herself, within me too, I think. Or she tried, at least. She tried to kill everything soft she came into contact with. But she did love me. In her own way – a wrong way, but she did. That comforts me immensely.”

“That she loved you even if it was the wrong way?”

He nods, “And that I loved her – despite all her flaws.”

“Why?”

“I… I appreciate the idea of being a bad person, and still being able to find someone to love you.”

“You’re a killer.” It is not a question for you already know the answer – you can see it in his eyes, it is his inheritance. You know that either way, it won’t make a difference to you. 

“I am, indeed. But, are you?.” The soft curve of his cunning smile is so incredibly beguiling. The most tempting thing you’ve ever seen in your entire life. You shake your head, you’re not, you never have been. You think it must be very obvious at first glance, for the patronizing look he gives you as he asks anyways. 

“Sometimes I can be very bad,” he whispers slowly, drags the tip of his finger over your shoulder, down the swell of your breast, stopping just shy of your peaked nipple, circling the point. 

“What do you do?” your voice is breathless, beseeching. 

He smooths his thumb over your bottom lip, pushes between to get inside, presses down on the hard edge of your bottom teeth to inspect the wet gleam of your tongue. “I steal beautiful things for myself–” His voice is like smoke – his confession fortuitous, on the verge of disappearing. His mystique enshrouds the both of you. You hope you disappear alongside him. 

“Is that what you’re doing now? Stealing me?”

“Yes.”

“I think I like being stolen.”

-

He wakes, very late into the night, or very early in the morning, the confounding blue hue of the outside world seeping in through the heavy drapes over the tall windows. Shielding the two of you from the real world.

Your body is entirely draped over his own. You’ve invaded him in your sleep, taken over all the space and air and thought he’s ever possessed. The soft weight of your breasts presses into his chest, your head tucked in the hollow of his clavicle so that he can feel each pass of your damp breath wash over his throat and chin. He expects to feel overwhelmed, uncomfortable, perhaps even disgusted, so much skin, so much heat, your legs intertwined with his – but all he can focus on is the fullness of your tits pressed up against him, the hot wet apex of your cunt against his thigh. You’re wet in your sleep for him – he can feel your dampness seeping through the silk of your extra panties. 

One of your hands is curled over his shoulder and he brings it to his mouth, presses a kiss to the soft, small palm. His hand dwarfs yours, swallows it whole. He sucks each one of the tips of your fingers into his mouth, bites down as gently as he can. Your hips start to shift over him, needy cunt trying to unconsciously rub up against his thigh. 

He’s going to fuck you now. His cock is hard, aching, leaking, balls heavy – has been for ages, but finally, finally his mind has caught up. Thank fuck. 

He passes his palm down the smooth line of your back, pushes his t-shirt you’re wearing up your back to get to your skin. This lovely smooth back he’d spent almost an hour staring at in that gallery. He feels a terrible, unfounded curl of jealousy, once again, that anyone else in the world has ever gazed upon the magnificence that is your skin. He wants it to be only for him, he wants you to be only for him – to own you.

His hand moves down to clutch the full swell of your bottom, pushes under your panties to take a handful of your bare flesh. He bends his knee slightly to put more pressure on your core and starts to roll your hips over him. You let out a soft little moan, sleepy, so sweet. 

“It’s time to wake up, Sparrow. I’m going to fuck you now.”

“Ezra–” you murmur, coming to. Your body seems to take stock of the situation before your mind does, little cunt suddenly grinding down more firmly onto his thigh. You let out a moan that goes straight to his cock. He grips your hips and flips you over, settling between the spread of your thighs, slotting his length into your wet cleft, he starts a slow rock that has his head pressing up and into your clit. 

“Tell me how you want to be fucked.”

Your eyes are glassy, dazed and confused. He says again, “Tell me how you want to be fucked, or I will decide for you.”

And then your soft little voice, grabbing him by the balls and showing him that as sleepy or drowsy or small as you may appear, you’re still aware of the power you hold over him: “I think I’d like you to decide for me, please.”

Fuck– he deepens the pressure of his thrusts so that his tip presses into your opening over your panties. Your jaw is hinged open, panting wet breaths as you moan for him. 

He sits back on his heels then, pulls his t-shirt up over your head and then slides your panties over your hips and down your legs, grips your knees to spread your legs wide for him. 

He was right, your cunt is the same color as your nipples. Beautiful. 

It’s drooling, begging for him, and oh, how that fills him with pleasure – for such a beautiful thing to desire him, as much as he desires it. He ghosts the back of his knuckles over your slit, using his thumbs to spread your lips wide – he bends for a taste, moans deep and long from his chest. 

“Fuck, you’re so sweet. Do you want me to feed your cunt, baby?”

“Ezra, please – yes – I want it so bad.”

“I know, I could see – all night, I could see how hungry you were. I’m going to eat you now.”

Please, please. 

He settles between your thighs. Soft little licks to your swollen clit, then down to thrust his tongue into your hole. He grips the back of one thigh to press it up and back into your chest, uses his other hand to press down low on your pelvis, gives you more pressure as he sucks your clit back into his mouth. He can feel the clench of your pussy around his tongue, the shake in your thighs. Your keening moans move through him, have him grinding his aching cock into the mattress. You’re going to come in his mouth, he can feel it, taste it, your slick running from you, sweet and musky, all for him. 

Your hands clutch at his curls, pulling and tugging hard as you arch your back and start to orgasm. Ezra, Ezra, Ezra. It’s a litany, a benediction. You are a work of art come to life to sing into his ear. 

He gentles his mouth over your quivering sex, laps slowly at your pulsing entrance. He wipes his mouth over the tender slope of your inner thigh and goes back to his knees, licks his palm of your wet as he watches your gaze on him. 

He cradles your small foot in his hold. He likes the thought that he can grasp that which has carried you through your life, in his hand. For some reason, it fills him with immense pleasure, the feel of your soft foot, the thought of you walking through life, walking through the world, towards him, to find him. Always him, only him. 

There is a wound in him, dark, and putrid, overwhelming his existence always. It was only through the cathartic fulfillment of holding a beautiful thing in his hands that he felt reprieved of the terrible thing. He feels that reprieve in this moment, with the delicate weight of your small foot cradled within his palm. 

He brings it to his mouth and digs his thumb harshly into the elegant arch, forcing a moan out of you, deepening the curve of your spine, then drags his teeth along the instep, presses a soft kiss to your first toe. He can see the clench of your little hole at his ministrations, the flush of your skin from the peaks of your breasts to your cheeks. 

Your breath is hitching, breasts quivering with your gasps. He bends to lick into your mouth, thin ankle still held in his grasp, finally, finally taking the taste of your tongue onto his own and you moan, wanton and desperate, your legs wrapping around his waist to bring him closer. 

“I’m going to give you my cock now,” he presses into your skin, open mouthed kisses to your throat, your neck, your breasts. He nips a gentle bite to one swollen little nipple. 

He grasps the base of his cock, passes his hand slowly from root to tip once, twice, and then presses the flushed head to your clit, grinds there for a moment, you jerk, then moves down to your hole, feeds you just the tip. You cant your hips, try and take him deeper, but he holds back, pulls out and moves back up to circle your clit again, and then back down again to press inside. “No, no, no, Ezra, please – I need it so badly – so badly.” He watches a tiny tear, track down your temple and back into your hair, and he gives you the entire thick length of him at that, fucks inside, all the way to the end of you. 

“There? How’s that?” He presses a kiss to your breast, sucks it into his mouth. The taste of you is godly. “Is that better, needy thing?”

“So good – so good,” you sigh. Stretching your arms high above your head, arching your back to let him in deeper. 

“Fuck, yes–” he groans. He sits back on his heels, grips your hips and starts to give it to you hard. The strong swing of his hips causing the soft jiggle of your tits with every thrust. Your eyes are closed, lashes fluttering, soft mouth open and wet. So fucking beautiful. 

“Will you let me fuck your ass too?” Your head is already nodding, all rational thought currently being fucked out of you. “You will, won’t you?”

“Yes, yes – anything you want.”

“Good girl.”

He changes the angle, fucks up into that spongy devastating part of you he plans to own after this is done, and he starts to feel the tight pull of your inner muscles working to suck him deeper. “That’s it, beautiful, just like that. Taking me so wonderfully.” 

“God– I– I’m–” you press your palms to his belly and he brings one of your ankles up to his shoulder, presses a kiss to the bone. 

“God isn’t here right now – just me–” He grits his teeth, gives it to you harder. He can feel his orgasm start to pool, hot and liquid, at the base of his spine, balls drawing up tight. 

“Give me another, Sparrow, one more. Need to feel it around my cock,” spit through clenched teeth. 

“Oh, fuck – that’s so good,” you moan, and then you’re milking him, pulling his come out of him with the tight wet clutch of your muscles. 

“Fucking perfect, yes – just like that.” He lets his head roll back on his neck, hand grasping your ankle as he fills you. 

-

He watches you eat your pain au chocolat. Sitting in the warm morning sun of the observatory. Tiny bites of the flaky sweet bread, dollop of chocolate sitting at the corner of your mouth that he plans to lick off in a second. He is mesmerized. He knows, empirically, he probably looks like a fucking creep, staring you down as he is, but he can also see the subtle preen in your gaze when you glance up at him every so often. You enjoy this part of your play as much as he does, so it seems. The watching. 

“Will you let me take you somewhere today?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Brazil? I’d show you the farm.”

You swallow, the most guileless eyes he’s ever beheld, shining in the light. “Brazil? Really?”

“Of course, treasure. Or anywhere you want. Your happiness is mine to watch over now. I would do anything for you.” As he says it, he can tell, you did not lie when you said you’d like to be stolen. 

[puhpandas]

Decennial

(2,396 words)

Evan and Gregory, now age twenty-two, celebrate the tenth anniversary of their meeting in the comfort of their shared apartment.

Its already the afternoon when Evan meets Gregory at the couch in their shared apartment, smartphone in hand. Gregory glances up from whatever he was watching on TV, quickly grabbing the remote to pause the channel.

He doesn't even have a chance to greet him before he notices Evan's face. Worry quickly creases his brows, and he moves to get off of the couch. "Evan? Hey, what's wron--"

Evan tries to convey that everything's fine with no words. Because it's true. He just can't muster any up right now. When Gregory seems to understand enough, that's when Evan thrusts his phone into Gregory's line of sight.

Gregory shifts on the couch, taking the phone and studying the screen to no avail. Hes pulled up the calendar on his phone, the date reading March 4th, 2045. Gregorys brows furrow, then, "Uh. I dont understand."

Evan would have rolled his eyes if he weren't so emotional right now. He scoffs, tapping the screen and mumbling "The date. Look at the date."

It only takes another moment for Gregory to understand. Evan can almost see the gears turning in his friends head in the moments before he gasps sharply. "Oh!"

Gregory doesn't look away immediately, just taking it in as if it surpises him. "Its ten years since we met today."

Evan nods at that. A small smile stretching on his face when Gregory finally turns to look at him.

But he should know by now -really, it's been ten years after all- that Gregory knows him. Probably better than Evan himself.

"What's with that look?" Gregory questions, seemingly noticing how Evans smile doesnt quite reach his eyes. "You look sad."

Evan shakes his head immediately. "No-- that's not it." He replies, feeling a bit more fit to speak. "Its just..."

"Ten years?" Gregory prompts, and Evan nods. Gregory seems to get it. He sighs a bit, and Evan can tell hes not alone in reminiscing. "Jeez. Thats..."

"...A long time ago." "A big number." They say at the same time.

Evan joins Gregory on the couch, taking his phone back. Ten years. Ten years since he met Gregory. Ten years since Evan had been that little ball of anxiety. Ten years since the best thing that ever happened to him.

Nine years since their first holidays together. Eight years since they started high school. Four since they graduated. Three since they started college.

One year since they got their first apartment together.

Evan chuckles all of the sudden, loud as a jet engine in the seemingly silent room. "Do you remember what we always wanted to do as kids?"

Gregory only has to think for a moment. "You mean what we made a reality?"

"Yeah." Evan replies. "We got that apartment. Not exactly the college dorm we imagined, though."

"Psh. Are you kidding? Our apartment is way better than any dorm we could have gotten." Gregory scoffs. "We would have like. One room to our name, and we would have to share."

Its Evan's turn to scoff, this time. He smiles, the memories coming back easily. "You're acting like we didnt basically share your room when we were thirteen."

"You were always there." Gregory agrees, but Evan knows by now that Gregory doesn't mean it in a bad way. Never. That's one of the things that have changed since they met. Evan doesnt assume the worst first, and ask questions later anymore. "You got that right."

"Thank god we had Vanessa to tell us what to do." Evan says. "We would be lost without her."

Gregory snorts, shuffling on the couch. Evan glances over, and strangely, being here, in this moment, even though its nothing differnet from what he and Gregory do every day, reminds him so much of when he and Gregory would just hang out together on his bed. Drawing, watching videos, talking and laughing... all of it.

"Its a good thing she told us to get an apartment while we still could." Gregory says. "We would have burned down the entire dorm."

Evan giggles at the thought. It wouldn't be the first time he and Gregory would make a mess in the kitchen. He still remembers how scared he was as a fourteen year old, when he had burned some of the food meant for Vanessa's 'Welcome Home' dinner Gregory insisted they make. The Fazbears house had stunk of char and smoke for days afterwards.

He was terrified at the time. If he had ever done anything like that at his old house...

He shakes that thought away. He does that often. Thinking back to his time alone with his father and brother. His biological ones. It's been a challenge, shutting down his brain when it tries to recall the memories.

Its another thing that's changed. As a kid, he knew nothing about helping himself and his anxiety. He didnt want to. He never saw himself as worthy of deserving relief, and it was so subconscious, little Evan never even realized it.

Now, it couldn't be more different. Hes never been healthier.

Who knew all it took was a best friend for life?

He looks over at Gregory. Who's still recounting some of their old childhood memories. Evan doesnt talk to Michael anymore. The damage he caused is too much to ignore. Evan... Evan doesnt want to see him anymore. Despite Michaels wake up call, it had been all too late. The damage had been done.

Michael missed his chance. Evan had decided that a long time ago. Maybe he should have had his change if heart earlier if he didnt want Evan to find the brother he always wanted in someone else.

Because that's what Gregory is. Its nothing new, they were having these revelations when they were only teenagers. Probably even earlier for Evan. But Evan never stops thinking about how much Gregory truly is his family.

That suprise and shock of the kindness hed received from Gregory from little Evan ten years ago is hard to shake when all hed been taught his whole life is how to hate himself. How he deserved to be treated badly, because if he hadn't been the way he was, he could have made himself worthy. A respectable man. Tough. An immovable rock. Real men dont show their emotions, or even experience them. Real men can defend themselves. Real men start to toughen up at the ripe age of twelve.

Evan is twenty two, now. So is Gregory. This life they'd built for themselves, with such a bright future... little Evan never would have even dreamed of. Little Evan had thought there was nothing there for him. Little Evan had thought there was no light at the end of the tunnel. That he had been doomed from the start. That his nature nipped his figure at the bud before it could begin.

This life theyve built for themselves. When Evan had ran to the Fazbears as soon as he'd turned eighteen with only a bag of clothes, a binder full of drawings, and yellow bear to his name. When he'd shared the room that felt like his own as well growing up with Gregory. When they'd spent those few months together until getting into the same college and choosing an apartment.

This life theyve built for themselves. That Evan would have only seen as a fantasy when he was eleven.

Theyve changed so much. It always shocks Evan every time he sees an old photo, or really remembers what it had been like pre-Gregory. Evan is growing out his hair, now. Before, all hed ever had was a months overgrown generic slickback. But he gets to choose now. Like how he paints his nails. Gregory has never really cared about his appearance, but he saw a photo of his Dad as a college student and immediately went to go replicate the blue streaks in his hair when it was time for himself to go off to college.

Evan almost laughs sometimes when he thinks about how much Gregory really is just an older version of who he was when he was twelve. He's different, like Evan is, but he's the same as well. A constant.

He knows hes the same, as well. Just with longer hair, bolder clothes, and the power of experimentation. Gregory has never been one to care much about his clothes, but to Evan, its everything. To be able to wear what he always wanted as a kid. To not be confined to whatever annual clothes his Father would buy him from the back to school section. Its freeing.

It's in that moment that he thinks back, really thinks back to his life pre-Gregory, and the contrast of the before and after.

It's all too much, in that moment. The memories and the sentiments and the nostalgia. In true Evan fashion, he cries about it.

Gregory has long since learned how to differentiate Evan's tears between his emotionality and a genuine issue. So when Evan begins wiping silent tears away, he just smiles one of those smiles he does, and pats him on the shoulder, pulling him in for a side hug.

Its digging a hole in Evan's chest, this feeling. It's not bad. But it's not exactly good either. It's some kind of a loss, but a hope as well. Remembering how much he loved back then. As much as he loves right now.

"I--" Evan stutters, sniffling. Gregory hands him one of the many boxes of tissues they always have on hand in their apartment. "It... It feels like we need to celebrate, somehow. I mean... ten years is big."

Evans mind floats to a cake. Or a two person party. Or a collaborated drawing. Evan's mind floats to many things. Many options. Ten years is big, right? Something that big needs a big party. Something big to commemorate it.

But Gregory just hums, and lays eyes on the thick shelf of DVDs they have tucked by the wall right by their TV. "How about a movie night?"

Evan's about to interrupt, say something about the milestone, but Gregory continues. "Do you remember all our favorites as a kid?"

Evan stops himself short, almost scoffing, because of couse he does. How could he not, when he and Gregory had stayed up so many times to watch them together, alongside stifled giggles and ice cream straight out of the carton? "Of course I do."

Gregory gets off the couch, crouching by the bookshelf and picking out a select few movies. Evan catches the titles on the packaging from all the way were hes sitting. Every single one of them is special to him.

Gregory deposits the movies on their coffee table, three DVDs spilling out onto the glass surface. "Then I can't think of a better way to spend the night."

Despite Evan's attempts, he cant either. Despite watching these movies almost regularly with Gregory even now, opening the casing feels different in this moment. It feels special. Evan feels like hes thirteen again.

Before starting their marathon, they make a huge bowl of popcorn, pouring caramel on it just how they liked it as kids. As they continue to now. Evan gets the carton of ice cream out of the fridge, handing Gregory his spoon and taking his own.

All they need is a throw blanket and they're ready. It's the exact setup they've done for years. Starting ten years ago today. This tradition has lasted this long, and it will outlive the milestone.

It feels so familiar, Evan cant stop thinking. His emotions are dialed up to eleven tonight. It only increases when the sky darkens outside their windows. He remembers coming home from school with Gregory and just. Immediately piling onto his bed with snacks and pillows and turning the lights off before they'd dive into another movie. Only going to bed when Freddy forced them to.

Because that's what it was. Thats what it still is. Home. All Evan feels right now is home.

They laugh at all the same parts. They cry as well. They cheer. They point out the same things. Nothing has changed.

Sure, ten years is big. But Evan can't think of a better way of spending the anniversary than continuing to do what hes loved to do with Gregory throughout the years. This doesnt mark the end of an era, or a big change. It marks how long hes had the gift of his brother. His family. His real family. The fifteenth mark will, as well. So will the twentieth.

All the tenth mark says is hes had ten years worth of joy and growth. and He'll continue to do just that.

After the third movie, Evan takes a quick look at his phone. The numbers 12:03 look back at him from his lockscreen, a picture of him and Gregory. The date has switched to the 5th.

"You're my brother." Evan says suddenly to Gregory at the beginning of the fourth movie. Gregory pauses in stuffing his face with popcorn to look over at Evan's earnest face. "You know that?"

Gregory chuckles wetly. It seems Evan isn't alone in the sentimentality tonight. "Only since we were preteens."

Gregory pulls him into that same side hug he always does. "You're my family." Gregory tells him sincerely. "You always will be, too. Hell would freeze over before our family would ever say you aren't one of theirs."

Evan chuckles, eyes misty, because he knows its true. He can imagine his family's reactions so vividly. "I know."

They only sink further into the hug after that, the movie continuing on. Theyve long since stopped with the thank yous. Not since they got it through Evan's thick skull that they arent doing him a favor. They just love him.

It's in that moment that Evan realizes that tomorrow is another day. And there are more after that and after that. Theres more milestones to reach, more years to spend with his brother and their family, and he cant wait to experience them.

But right now, he's content continuing a ten year long tradition as a mundane celebration for a non-mundane achievement.

It's not mundane to him at all, anyway. It means the world to him.

Besides, he can't imagine a world where his family doesn't throw a suprise party for him when he and Gregory visit them tomorrow.

ao3 link

[barbiecrocs]

Hard to hate.

Eddie Munson

tags! enemies to lovers, no piv, no spoilers for s4, oral (female receiving), fingering, teasing, pet names (princess), name calling (dingus), hair pulling, cumming in pants, underage drinking

I think that's it. Lemme know if I missed something.

WC.5,433

Barbies note...So I mention the Cityman Nokia but that came out in 87 so the story is set really early 87 and they are abt the graduate. Ik the time line doesnt make sense, but dont worry abt it😝. Anyway, enjoyyyy

You loved your friends, and it's been a while since you've last hung out, but what you wouldn't give right now to be home alone with a bag of hot fries and some horror flicks. Yeah, sure you said, "Steeeeeeeevie, we should kick it at your house tonight." Making finger guns at him while everyone piggybacks off of that thought. Robin butting in, "Fast times?" She nods with two thumbs ups directed at an unamused Steve.

 "Ugh, again?" Nancy complains, rightfully so. 

"What, it's a good movie." Robin gestures to you as back up, but you put your hands up in defense, not wanting to pick sides. It was a good movie though, but at the same time, it was worn out.

"No, that movie is so run through by all of us. How many times have we rented it from Family Video now? For heaven's sake, I'd rather watch a horror movie at this point!"

"Wow, Nancy. Daredevil, you. Maybe we a porno instead or something. Eddie wouldn't mind, nor would Steve." She teases. 

And that's where you exit the convo. At the name drop of Eddie. Your eyes flicker around the video store, eye catching titles such as Nightmare on Elms Street, Sixteen Candles, and Fame pop out at you before you catch Steve mouthing a Fuck you while giving you the jack-in-the-box middle finger. Cranking and cranking until it pops out. You give him a playful smirk and an eyeroll, typing in the 'F•r•i•e•n•d•s' group chat that's name was always being changed to some joke like 'Brad's bud-lings' or Linda's Bralette. All Fast Times references made by Robin, each one deserving an eyeroll. "HANG OUT AT STEVE'S TONIGHT!!" you relay. Even though the only person you'd be informing is Eddie and maybe Chrissy if she reads the group chat. Only popping in to say hi every few weeks. 'What could possibly be keeping her so busy?' The question always circles your mind before being brushed off. 

Steve's phone pings, looking down at it in hopes that it doesn't say what he thinks it says. Nope, it says exactly what he didn't want it to say. He glares at you, gently bumping shoulders with you when he walks over, inching his way down to your ear. "I hope you know that you're driving them." He taps your shoulder for fake comfort, not understanding the big problem.

—

 The feeling of a headache coming on from the noisy car says it all. You should've taken the warning when Steve dished it, too bad you didn't know. Nancy and Eddie talk loudly in the backseat, trying to hear each other over Madonna's 'Material Girl' that Robin put into your car's DVD player. 

 'A couple more blocks. Just a couple more blocks and I can just chill at Steve's house and watch movies or whatever he has planned this time. Maybe we'll watch Fast Times again, it never gets old. Or something new like Pretty in Pink, yea that came out recently.' The thought relaxes you before Robin brings back all the stress, placing a lukewarm beer on your skater denim thighs. Your favorite low-rise jeans. They were a dark wash color, a perfect fit and were tattered with embroidered stars with a little distress.

 "Care for a beer?" She asks, a tad too loud for your close proximity, "Oh my god Robin, for the last time, NO.  And you reek of beer, get back." She rolls her eyes at your order, "Ugh rude! Don't be such a bummer, just take the beer. See? Here, I'll help you since your hands are full." She drunkenly puts the unopened beer can to your lips, tipping it up and down. "Huh, nothing's coming out, strange-", you grab both of her wrists with one hand and turn down the volume, "Robin! For heaven's sake please put it down, you're blocking my vision. Gosh, who the hell let her sit in the front! Guys mind giving me a hand? Geez!" You continuously swat Robin's hands away while trying to keep a steady steering hand. "Princess, you let her sit in the front. Remember? So, you did that to yourself." 

"Okay well, I wasn't expecting much help from you anyway. And stop calling me princess, dingus." 

"Stop calling me dingus, princess." He retorts with a chuckle in his voice. That motherfucker, he probably gets off on stressing and teasing you.

 Nancy grabs onto the back of your seat, pulling herself towards you, "Nuh uh, no, not today. Both of you shut up. You're acting like children. Why do you hate each other so much anyway?" You both shut up, waiting for the other to give a response.

 You didn't answer because you didn't actually hate Eddie. You only acted like this because he hated you first. Well, you interpreted it as hate. He would just straight up ignore you. You used to have a crush on him, giggling like a little schoolgirl when he'd pass you in the halls. You thought that maybe he was just dense, but then your best friend Chrissy exposed your little crush to him. Yet, he still did nothing about it. 

 None of that mattered your junior year though. You decided to put yourself out there like Chrissy did. You were social, prettier, and had the school's hotshot, Jason Carver on your arm. He wasn't your type, but everyone kissed the ground you walked on so why complain? Why complain about the times he would chew with his mouth open? Why complain about the times he'd brag about how your tits bounced when he fucked you? Totally leaving out the part where he only lasted 30 seconds of the "pounding" he gave you. You'd always rant about it to Chrissy, both of you rolling your eyes and snickering when he'd talk about it.

 Through Chrissy, you met Steve, Nancy, and Robin, all your best friends to this day. Y'all would go out for milkshakes, watch movies, go to the mall and have a blast. Things were settling down nicely for your senior year. 

 But then, Eddie wormed his way back into your life through your shared friends and classes. Suddenly, ignoring and hating him was starting to get exhausting. How could you hate someone with good music taste? You'd act disgusted when his trashy drug den of a van pulled into the school's student parking lot or Steve's driveway. Then you'd notice Metallica's 'battery' pouring out the speakers of his car and can't help but bob your head.

 Then there was his sweet and smile. His smile was angelic. All the leather studded jackets and band patches in the word couldn't dim the brightness that is his smile. It was a little crooked, but his lips were perfect.

 And his hair– God, his hair. How much you longed to curl your fingers in his soft frizzy locs. Run your fingers through and grip it at the scalp while he devours you like a starved man– No. You are past that phase and over him. But as you'd like to think, none of that mattered anymore. You broke up with Jason, still had your friends, and still didn't like Eddie. If only you knew that Eddie never actually hated you either.

–

You swallow hard at the question that sits tensely in the air between you two. He notices your silence on the topic, a smug grin easing its way to his face, "Cat got your tongue?" You can hear the teasing sarcasm in his voice, practically oozing out his mouth. "Oh yeah? Why don't you answer it? You have a mind and mouth of your own." Glares exchange through the rear view mirror before you break away.

 "Nancy, please." You plea, not waiting for Eddie's clapback. Nancy sighs, not wanting to hear you both argue like kids anymore. "Okay. Come on Robin, you've had enough time in the front seat." She skillfully maneuvers Robin out the front seat and buckles her into the back with them, all in the blink of an eye. "Thank you." You give her a sickly sweet smile and shoot Eddie a nasty look. A couple more turns and you arrive at Steve's house.

 "We're here, kids. Get the hell out of my car." You joke. "Let me remind you to never have kids." Eddie chuckles. You try your hardest to seem indifferent from that and the banter you had with him in the car, but your demeanor still slips from under your hands. "Right, says the druggie and seller. Plus, I don't think your house is in living condition for kids or anyone ever." You slam your car door, locking it and marching up to Steve's door with a tired look plastered on your face. 

"Hah, she called you a druggie. Me personally, Eddie. I wouldn't take that." Robin laughs, leaning on Nancy's shoulder as she pulls her out the backseat. Eddie punches her arm, "Yeah whatever. And you know damn well that you'd take that." 

"Yeah, I would." She bites her lip in thought.

You bang on Steve's door again, pulling out your phone to call him since he still hasn't answered the door. You guys have been standing out on the porch for what, 5 minutes? "Knock again, maybe you didn't do it hard enough." Nancy suggests. You knock again, putting your ear to the door. "Oh wow, look at Sherlock over here." He taunts and you flip him off. "Shut up. There's music blasting through the door. No wonder he can't hear us." "Okay well, can you make him hear us, because Robin's really heavy." Nancy readjusts Robin on her shoulder while you dial Steve's number on your Cityman Nokia. "Well, aren't you updated with the times?" Eddie glares at your phone. It had just dropped at the beginning of the year. Within seconds of it ringing the door flies open with a casually dressed Steve leaning against the doorway and a turkey sandwich in his hand.

 He takes a bite, "So how was the drive?" A genuine question that you can't help but lean into his chest, head first. "Haha, very funny. You knew damn well what you were doing when you said I was driving." You put more of your weight onto him and he pats the top of your head for comfort. "Oh haha. Lemme guess, Robin road in the front?" You nod, "Damn, drunk?" You nod again as he looks up from the top of your head to Robin. "Damn, want a sandwich?" You nod once more. "Can we please hurry this interaction up or give me a hand." Nancy gestures to Robin. Steve finishes his sandwich and shuffles you inside.

——

"Mhm! Oh my god, Steveeeee." You moan, dancing in your seat. "This is so good!" Eddie rolls his eyes at your chipperness. The entirety of bacon, lettuce, tomato, avocado, and turkey all toasted on one sandwich. Steve laughs, enjoying your enjoyment. "Glad you like it. I usually have mine with chips, but I ate the last bag yesterday."

 "That's fine. Got any pop?" You bounce happily in your chair before your mood is abruptly ruined by Eddie interjecting from the other side of the island. "I'm sorry, what? Pop? You mean soda? Hell, I'd even take soda pop or fizzy pop, but just pop?" You stop dancing to give emphasis to you not liking his tone or the fact that he was talking to you in general. "Yes, just pop. Steve knows what I'm talking about anyway. Isn't that right?" You put a hand out waiting for said drink to be put in your hand. The refrigerator opens and closes and the cold drink is placed into your palm then you shove it in his face. It was Coca-cola. Eddie sighs, fingers rubbing the space between his eyes, not bothering to continue the argument. "Dingus." You say under your breath, cracking open the can. 

"So, what do you guys want to do?" Steve pauses, rounding the counter and plopping down on the floor across from Nancy and Robin. "Because I don't have a movie planned."

 A sharp gasp comes from Robin. "No Fast Times?"

"No? That movie is worn out anyway. Maybe another day though." He says, getting up to look at his movie catalog before Nancy excitedly jumps up. "YES! THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING. IT'S SO WORN OUT." She says, earning a silent laugh from you. You catch Eddie glaring at you once more. "Why can't you ever take your eyes off of me? I always catch you staring." You say, finishing your sandwich. "Because, I'm just so in love. Your beauty is captivating, my love." He says, almost making it sound genuine, but the hint of sarcasm gives it away. "Oh, watch out. You almost made me fall for it." You finish your sandwich and join the others in the living room.

"How about marry, kiss, kill?" You suggest, taking a memory foam pillow from the sofa and sitting down at the coffee table. Robin suddenly takes interest in the convo ever since getting shut down for the movie. "Ooooh, good one. How about we add fuck, too. Just to spice it up." 

 Eddie joins the rest of you in the living room, plopping down on the sofa between Nancy and Robin as she starts the game. "Hmm. Nancy, you first. Jason, Fred, Chance, and Steve." Her face scrunches up with every name drop, the look of disgust written all over it. "Fred?! You just had to put that one in there." She pauses, shooting Robin a devastated look as you snicker. Oh the betrayal. Robin rolls her eyes, finally starting to come back to herself after all the cups of cold water Nancy shoved down her throat. "Oh come on, spit it out." 

"Alright, fine. This is speaking as if me and Jonathan aren't together, okay? Marry Steve. Kill Jason. Kiss Fred. Fuck Chance." The group's eyes go wide with surprise. "Have you always thought about killing my ex?" You tease, looking offended, but you really weren't. Hell, you'd help with the murder. "Yes! Oh my god he's such a dickhead. I talked to him for the newspaper and he was sunshine and smiles during it, then turned around and tried to tell me how to do my job after. Saying stuff like," She pauses, clearing her voice to mimic his dopey voice. "Oh, don't forget to add the part where I'm captain of the basketball team and how many shots I scored in the last game." Mind you, the question I asked him was, "How do you feel about the bullying incidents and what would you do to prevent it?" Since he's supposed to be one of the school leaders. Ugh, he just gets on my nerves. I'm so glad you dumped his ass because I cannot stand by and let one of my friends date a literal piece of shit on the floor." Her manic rant stops as she places her hands back on her lap, not realizing she was using them to talk in the first place. 

 "So…Um, fuck chance huh?" Steve says, picking the conversation back up. "Yeah. I've talked to him a couple of times for the newspaper club and he's really nice. Plus he's got nice hair and facial structure." She waits for responses, but everyone just looks around in agreement. "Okay, Y/n." From the way she says your name, you know she's about to fuck you up with this one. "Gareth, Eddie, Andy, and Patrick." "Ugh. Two people each from the 'freak' and 'dickhead squad.'" You ignore the glare from Eddie and put your elbow on the coffee table in front of you, leaning into your hand in thought. "Okay, I think I got it. Marry Gareth. Kiss Andy. Fuck Patrick. Kill Eddie." You close your eyes and list all of them on one hand, some laughs, some eye rolls, specifically one from Eddie. "You'd fuck Patrick but Kill me?" "Yeah, I was shocked. Eddie is very fuckable." Steve says while Robin agrees, getting a sideways look from Nancy. "Not fuckable by me of course. I just meant that as a compliment if I was straight. You know?" She clarifies. "He's got a cute face, nice hair, and he's the perfect height. I wouldn't mind being married to that cutie pie. I feel bad though because he's probably so innocent, he looks it too. I'd ruin him with our relationship." You laugh. "Oh well. It's not like I wouldn't love doing that anyway." "Yeah right. As if my princess could ruin anyone." Eddie stares you down from the couch, thighs clenching from his whole demeanor and 'my princess'. "Don't call me that and I'm not yours." You say in a hushed tone. "It's fun to watch you deny that nickname. I know you love it, princess." He inches closer to you.

 "I don't." You inch.

 "Do." He inches.

 "I hate it as much as I hate you." You inch.

 "I also find that hard to believe." He stops inching closer, anymore and you'd be kissing. You totally didn't want that. Robin would've joked around and said 'Kiss already!', but she didn't want the death glare and possible death that would come with it. She could see it now, both of you hovering over her as Eddie chokes her out and you high five him. Her face going blue and vision fading to black before going to the light or who knows maybe she was going to hell. She prayed she wouldn't. But this isn't about her, and that never happened, only in her drunken coming sober thoughts. Where it shall stay.

You both hover over the coffee table as the rest watch. He leaves you speechless, no clapback, not even a huff. Only a broken glare, but your silence says all he needs to know. You slam your hands on the table and walk away, visually startling everyone, but Eddie. He doesn't even flinch. "Don't you walk away from me!" Eddie follows after, his long legs mindlessly stepping over Robin's feet with ease as you two bicker. "Don't tell me what to do! You're not my dad." You storm the hallway, stepping into the closest room, being a guest bedroom. You try to shut the door in his face, but he's right behind you, hot on your heels. He gets a foot in the door as you shut it, luckily for him, his platforms are thick so it didn't do much damage. He flings the door open forcefully, sending you back into a dresser. He slams the door loudly.

"Should we do something?" Steve looks down the hallway from where he is. "Can you see anything?" Robin askes, but he shakes his head. "The door is closed." Nancy rubs her temples, "I feel like we should do something, but I don't wanna be the one to get hurt. Like what if they turn on me because I get in between their 'lovers quarrel'? I don't wanna find out." They both nod their head in agreement. "Yeah, I say we step in if we hear stuff being thrown or like actual violence. Right now we should be on standby." Steve announces as if it was a real plan. In reality, they just didn't want to interfere.

 Eddie cages you between the dresser and himself, so close you could feel his uneven breath on your face. Your bodies glued against each other, his leg separating both of yours, and brushing against your cunt. His hands on the outside of yours, chests almost touching if not the height difference. Both of you stand idly in this position, calming your breathing, taking a moment to assess the situation you've gotten yourselves into. You try to move from under him to clear your head, accidentally rubbing your cunt with the thigh that separates your legs. A moan almost slips, but you bite your lip, hoping he doesn't notice. He does. "Hm? Got something to say princess?" He hunches over you, easing down to your level. "Fuck you!" "You'd like that wouldn't you?" His leg shifts again, feeding your entrance and clit that delicious friction it hasn't had in a while. You let out a muffled curse, "You want my attention so bad." Eddie's face contorts into fake confusion, trying to brush it off. "What?" "You heard me. Always making little quips even when I'm not talking to you. When I am talking to you, you always tease me. It seems like you love talking to me. You can't get enough of it. If you hated me as much as you say, you wouldn't call me princess. It seems like I'm not the only one that enjoys that nickname." You smirk, seeing his composure crack before quickly recovering. "So, you do like that nickname?" Your face turns hot from embarrassment. Oops, you didn't realize you had let that slip out. You got ahead of yourself and your mouth ran faster than your brain. Now it's at the finish line and you're sitting there looking dumb at the start. "I, I don't." You don't even know why you're still lying at this point. You've been found out.

 "We both know that's a lie." His lips find your neck as he lifts you onto the brown hardwood dresser you've been pressed against. He settles his hips between your legs. "Fuuuuuck. Fuck you." You begin to trip on your words, every sentence comes out with a stutter in it. "Just say the word and this can all end." Your train of thought evaporates when he finds that sweet spot on your neck, stamping hickeys that will definitely show with your clothing choices. He notices your silence and starts to pull away, afraid that he overstepped. "Don't! Don't stop, please." Your begging goes straight to his groin and your arms wrap around his neck, ensuring that he won't go anywhere. "Oh? You sound so sweet for me, princess." You give in, not complaining about the nickname and focusing on the growing heat between your legs. It was just a stupid nickname that you might or might not think about in the shower while you imagine his head between your thighs. 

He takes his hand from your hips and slides it under your shirt, groaning when he's found with a bra. "What, can you not get it off by yourself?" You reach a hand behind to help him before he slaps it away. "No, I got it." He skillfully unhooks with one hand, your eyebrows lifting in surprise as he laughs. "I'm not a virgin and a loser. I pick and choose my struggles, okay?" He pulls your shirt above your head to be met with your breast. They sit perfectly on your chest, perfect size, perfect for your body, perfectly soft. He groans lowly while teasing your nipples, your tits fit perfectly into his cold ring-clad fingers. He plays with them like a kid with their first slinky, completely mesmerized, squeezing and squishing them together. His hot mouth encases one of your taunt nipples as you fight the urge to slip your fingers into his hair. "Go ahead. I know you want to." It's almost as if he read your mind. "I know you love the curls, all the girls do." You roll your eyes. "So, grip it if you need to." He smirks up at you through full black eyelashes, trailing his kisses lower to the waist of your jeans, which you didn't know he unbuttoned. His fingers slide against the skin of your hips, looping around your jeans and tugging them down your legs. Leaving the wet area on your panties exposed to him. "Well, would you look at that? You've soaked right through them." His words fluster you, but before you can reply, he's grabbing you by the back of your knees and pulling you closer to the edge, your ass only half way on the dresser now. He drops to his knees, your legs thrown over his shoulders, clutching one by the back of your knee again. He levels with your soaking cunt, giving it an experimental lick, not for you, but for himself. He slides your panties off, letting out a groan from the sight. Your beautiful pussy, glistening because of him. He runs a thick finger up your puffy folds to your clit, rubbing gentle circles as he watches your chest heave from pleasure.

 Eddie continues to mindlessly tease your sensitive clit. Pulling muffled and bitten back moans from you. You hoist yourself up, trying your best to roll your hips farther onto his face, but he holds you down. "Eager now, are we?." He nips around the area you need him the most. Kissing and licking your thighs. "You must want to get your hair pulled, whore." He bites at your thigh harder than before. "Says the one getting her pussy eaten by her "sworn enemy". Isn't that ironic?" "Oh shut up. You haven't even-" Your tongue gets caught in your throat blocking the moan that dares to leave your lips. 

It was supposed to be a petty lick to make you shut up and appreciate what he was giving you, but he couldn't believe how sweet you were. The lust clouding his brain, his dick hard and leaking precum, pressing impossibly hard against his jeans, all factors working together to drive him more crazy. He starts to lap at your pussy, slurping and suckling the juices as you try to pull away from the sudden pleasure, but the grip on your thighs tighten possessively. You glance down at him to see his eyes, pupils blown wide and clouded with lust. He's eating your pussy like a starved man, sloppy and the bottom half of his face soaked with your juices. He's wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking kisses to it when he slips a finger in you. God, your walls are so velvety soft and what he wouldn't give to be in them. His fingers could be in you for hours, past the wrinkling stage.

Loud moans and curses erupt from your throat, hoping your friends in the other room didn't hear. That somehow the loud noises went unheard or they were suddenly deaf. They didn't. They can and did hear everything.

"So… So, I guess they're not fighting anymore." Nancy pauses, picking stubborn threads from the old couch. "Um, yeah… So uh. PIZZA! Yea pizza, y'all wanna go get some pizza? I mean I didn't make either of you a sandwich earlier. You must be hungry." Steve tries to carry the convo while Nancy and Robin nod their heads in agreement. "Yup! Haha, absolutely famished." Robin says, really playing it up. "Yeah! I mean, like when was the last time we ate? Three days ago? Haha!" A heavy silence sits between the three of them, then Steve grabs his keys. "So! Um, let's go get that pizza!" Fake smiles emerge from all of them, trying to act like two of their friends weren't in the next room fucking. "Oh, Shot-"

"No Robin. You're not riding shotgun."

"Aw man."

 The loud shutting of the front door can be heard by you and Eddie, but you didn't care and apparently he didn't either. He begins to give your pussy little kitten licks. Fuck, is he teasing again? What is his problem? You're already dripping and desperate for him. He is enjoying this all too much. 

 You grab him by the hair, eliciting a moan and shove his face in your cunt. "Eat." You demand as Eddie looks up at you through those fucking eyelashes again. His hands resting on your marked up inner thighs. You weren't the only one enjoying the view, though. You thought you looked absolutely crazy right now, chest heaving unevenly, a sheet of sweat coating your body, your shirt sticking to your breast from the sweat and pupils blown out just like Eddie's, but he was loving it. If only he could pause time and save this image forever or had the artistic ability to paint this moment how he sees fit. The image alone could make him cum in his pants. You panting over him, fed up with his teasing and finally putting him in his place. He obeys, using the tip of his nose to rub circles on your clit as his tongue plunges in and out of you. Your head falls back against the mirror behind you.

 Both of your hands pull his hair as you roll onto his face, desperate moans pouring out of your mouth. He continues to moan into your pussy, coaxing you closer to your orgasm with vibrations. Your eyes shut when he slides two fingers in you, not wasting any time on delaying your orgasm. His efforts have your legs shaking in his grip as you gush on his face. He watches intensively, eyes flickering between your fucked out but satisfied face and your spasming pussy. Your precious moans turning into whines of his name as he fingers you into overstimulation. He slips his fingers out and slurps up the rest of your essence. 

 Your eyes open when you feel his lips on yours, tasting a bit of yourself on him. You moan into the kiss, giving his tongue the opportunity to explore your mouth. Your hands move to his chest, pushing him back to slide off the dresser. You push him backwards towards the bed and drop to your knees. Placing one hand on the wet tent in his pants before he grabs it.

 "I want to." You assure him before he says anything.

 "But you don't have to."

 "But I want to."

 "I said you don't have to."

 "I said I want to."

 "Fine! I don't want you to then." You look at him in confusion before he continues.

 "I don't consent. I won't let you." You narrow your eyes at him before dropping the topic. "You're a weird one, Eddie Munson." You start to gather your clothes and head to the bathroom. "Oh, can you change out here?" He says, ushering ahead of you and shutting the door. "Oh, okay?"

Eddie shuts the door behind him, his eyes falling on the situation in his pants. He manically searches the bathroom for a rag he can use to clean the cum out of the inside of his pants, luckily it didn't soak through yet. Yet. He undoes his studded belt and lets his pants fall to the floor, finding a rag and scrubbing the best he can with hand soap. He can be heard huffing and puffing from outside the door, "Hey Eddie. Lemme ask you a question." He nearly jumps out his skin. He thought you already got dressed and left. "Um okay? Shoot."

"How come you hate me so much?"

"Oh princess, I never hated you." He tries to multitask, but fails terribly and almost slips on the bottom of his pants. Luckily, he grabbed onto the sink.

"Oh yeah? Well, you always ignored me. Chrissy told you I had a huge crush and you still didn't make a move or try to talk to me."

 "Oh yeah. That. To me you were such a sweet girl. I thought you were too good for me and you'd leave me in the dust with nothing but my heart to hold." He stops scrubbing, reminiscing about the said times. 

 "You were too good to be true. You were too good for me. You were top of our class and you already had colleges knocking at your door. I didn't have dreams that big. I didn't want to dim your light." He trails off, starting back to scrubbing.

"Why didn't you let me make that decision? I should get to choose who I hang out with." He can hear you stepping closer until you finally lean against the door, back first he assumes. 

"I just wanted the best for you." He takes a dry towel and soaks up as much of the wetness as possible. Almost dry. He fits his pants back on, opening the door slowly to ensure you had enough time to move. 

 Then he feels a fist against his chest. "I hate you, you know." He smiles down at you, "From someone that was rubbing their pussy on my face, I don't believe that." You both walk out the door into the hallway to be met with the smell of pizza and your group of friends plus Chrissy. "Oh hey! I ran into these guys at Domino's." She grabs a slice and holds it out to you two. "Pizza?" 

[leclerced]

im an oscar and carlos angst truther….maybe bunny going to carlos a lot more than usual and oscar’s like >:( and maybe he starts unintentionally icing her out and she’s all :(( until lando forces them to spend a nice slow night together where oscar just marks her up because she’s his and not carlos’ : ((

pls 😭 oscar pretending nothing is wrong but he doesn’t realize he’s being passive aggressive like. yk how stereotypically women are like “nothing is wrong. im fine.” thats oscar. he doesnt know how to use his words to talk ab feelings. lando can read him like a book and knows something is wrong, and one of the tells is him icing bunny out without realizing it. he’d just distance himself from her mentally, put up walls he’d just taken down. he’s not laughing at her dumb jokes or pulling her into him when she walks by, all the little things he usually does without thinking just stop.

he’d stop them all without realizing it until lando tells him bunny thinks he’s mad at her and she doesn’t know how to talk to him bc he doesn’t do that. oscar would feel worse bc lando’s good about talking about his feelings, he doesn’t ice people out or clam up. he just tells bunny what he’s feeling and they deal with it together. he hates that he can’t give her what she needs, he can’t give her the open communication she has with lando because he’s scared the way he feels ab her will be too much.

as soon as lando finds out its just bc she’s spent a few more nights than usual w carlos he’s like ): aw lando u should feel bad for carlos bc his car is shit and it’s practically a pity fuck. and oscar’s just like “that doesn’t make me feel better. i don’t want her to feel bad for him. i don’t want her to feel anything for him, or anyone else. he could crash, and bunny would be all over him making sure he’s okay, and that’s what bothers me. him having a shit car just makes her want to comfort him. if he had a great car and was winning, she’d be celebrating with him. there’s no end to it.”

as soon as lando finds out that’s whats bothering him sm he’d feel awful bc like they wouldn’t rly think ab how oscar feels ab her w other drivers bc he used to be one of them. it’d change the dynamic a lot when they realize just how possessive oscar can be, and like realistically it’s a normal amount, any normal boyfriend wouldn’t be okay w what goes on, but oscar wouldn’t be able to be a normal bf like he wants. tbh he wouldn’t share bunny w anyone if it was an option and he shows her that when lando forces them to be alone together for the first time in like two weeks. he doesn’t know how to use his words so lando would let them have some alone time where they could hash it out whatever way they can and when lando sees them the next morning she’s in his lap giggling at something he’s whispering in her ear. she’d be in jeans and a turtleneck despite the heat and he knows its bc she’s covered in love bites from oscar.

[cultivatingyourfuture]

grins. haha

33 for cherry fizzle vallen neil holly, 49 for cherry vallen paige, 28 for toni emily, 15 toni, 10 pierre, 37 scott (can be answered separately ik this is a lot. LOL)

GOOD LIRD..... okay i can work with this. Ok

33. Do they play ttrpgs? If so what kind of characters do they play? Or are they more likely to GM?

fizzle - YES probably since she was super super young. has moved on to GM'ing and writes the most batshit plots featuring the silliest of gags ie bard npc first name oingo last name boingo. loves when her players go off the rails because it means she gets to pull out the craziest stops that may or may not derail the story but who cares there's no time to remember that this was a by the numbers save-the-princess plot fight these 3 bean bag mimics you found in the forest NOW

cherry - no, not really. they've tried but they dont quite get the appeal. but they do like to watch and sometimes helps fizzle gm (super handy to have a friend who is a calculator/randint generator during dnd)

holly - nnno? not unless someone ropes her into it first but then she is ALL in. makes a """mary sue""" (i use that in the best of terms i hate when its ever used as a form of criticism) oc with 13 boyfriends and rainbow hair and flame hands and has the time of her goddamn life. shed forget when her turn is / what's going on in the story all the time though lmao

vallen - would pretend like he's not interested. would join and pretend like it's just to make fizzle and/or cherry happy. would get super invested about 20 minutes in and make an impressively in-depth character and then either make it to every meeting after that or never show up again

neil - YES lol ttrpgs are right up his alley. itd probably love writing stories to gm but would hate gm'ing himself. has multiple preestablished characters that he just pulls from whenever it needs them for a campaign. deliberately brings the silliest things it can find to act as makeshift minifigs (legos, action figs, thimbles, board game pieces he just Took, rocks, whatever. anything can be a player character if u use yr imagination <3) and gets really into his characters, especially the gag ones

49. Do they have trouble keeping their enemies and their friends straight?

cherry - no. cherry knows who he loves and who loves him and who he hates and who hates them, and theyre content with that and its changes, for the most part. he makes an effort to understand everyone but that isn't always enough to make her like them in some circumstances it just makes her hate them more

paige - It's Complicated. people tend not to like her since, yeah, she's not very graceful or charming and she sure as hell comes off as abrasive at times, but that's compounded by the fact she's very bad at reading or predicting people so she never knows what to make of certain behaviors towards her. is this person being genuinely nice, or do they want something out of me? is this person rude because they're having a bad day, or because they're just a rude person? is this person kind, or just a pushover? you could be the nicest person ever to her and she'd still bend herself into knots trying to figure out Why, if you're just too weak willed to say no once in a while or if you're just trying to suck up and get something out of her. and she tries sooo hard to not need anyone, to stay in her own self-sufficient bubble where she can leverage her own power over people to get what she wants out of them that she kids herself into thinking any kind of relationship would just slow her down as if the fact of the matter is that she just doesnt know how to connect with others on a meaningful level and would rather stay that way then ever admit she needs help. so she just stays like that, viewing everyone as either adversaries or assets or sometimes both, if youre her brother. having friends does not agree with paige jensen and having enemies is a hell of a lot easier, so making enemies it is. toni is a slight exception but let's not worry about that

vallen - ohh boy. yeah. yeah. they have so much trouble fathoming ideas like [checks smudged writing on hand] Genuinely Likes Him, or Has No Ulterior Motives. fizzle and cherry throw them the fuck off because no they're just sorta generally kind, understanding people who don't expect much and he does not understand that. like yeah ok they Get what has brought those three together I Guess but its still like. why are you inviting me over for fucking movie night. why do you want to hang out with me. what do you want? and cherry will outright say "I like you. I like spending time with you." to his FACE and theyll be like ???? ok. whats the catch motherfucker. spoiler alert there is no catch and vallen has to come to terms with the fact that they are deserving of genuine love even if he thinks he isnt lmao get CARED ABOUT YOU IDIOT 💥💥💥💥 <- this goes totally fine for cherry btw vallen is not an (unknowingly on his part) well laid trap at all. it's ok. they're ok❤️ (they are)

28. Are they a #gamer?

LMAO? toni spent a lot of time in and out of hospitals and would have dreamcasts and nintendo 64s wheeled in during the times she was bedridden. she's played a few very specific games back to front forwards backwards 100 percent completion any% WHATEVER because the hospital only had starfox and super mario 64 and by god was she going to make the most of that

emily has a shitty little nokia that can play snake and tetris. helps when she can't sleep. gives her horrible Tetris Effect and the stupid song gets stuck in her brain at work which is just great

15. What kind of sense of humor do they have? Or do they have one at all?

she tends to joke about things no one wants to talk about. will make jokes about paige turning people into cyborgs to her face and will bring up that one families lawsuit who swear up and down your company is responsible for their daughters disappearance and will do it in the most chipper, sweetest voice and then will move on just as fast as she's said it to some entirely new topic rather than let the other person even process what she's said. her humor operates on saying the quiet part out loud and making people uncomfortable with it lmao

10. Do they have any regrets?

you think you're so funny dont you

pierre spends roughly 10 years in that company which means 10 years to reflect on how he got there and what person-- whose sacrifice all of this research and development is all built upon and it kills him every single day. he will never stop thinking about the what ifs, about what he did when he was young and stupid and thought he could get what he wanted in the end if he pulled the strings just right. and now he's here and he's loved and revered, sure, but it's not how he wants and it's all built off of her. which i find interesting, because even in death* eveline is less a person in his mind and more of an escapism. something to mourn, lament over, not something to remember as it was but as it could have been.

37. Are they religious? If so do they have a strong sense of faith, are they uncertain, or are they somewhere in between?

oh this one's interesting. scott gives me the vibes of someone who was raised in the church which was then used to supplement his own abuse, became really bitter toward religion as a whole for a good chunk of his youth, and then grew up a little and met people and thought about how people use and misuse it and reconsidered it and is just overall very chill and respectful about it now. never sent his kids to any kind of church, never pointed them in the direction of any religion, but never discouraged them for exploring that sorta thing or asking questions or coming to their own conclusions as long as it stayed in the range of 'be kind to people'. scott marshall is an ex hippie who had to buckle down and work and find time for his family but he never really grew out of the ideals of it so he really is more respectful towards other people's dispositions than a lotta ppl wouldve been in georgia circa 1998. that being said i think that guy probably hotboxed his old churches basement when he was 17 and spraypainted stupid shit on the walls there and like, 20-30 years later he's still hearing the local urban legends about the pentagrams that mysteriously appeared on the church walls drawn in blood back in '71 and he sooo badly wants to say "that's ridiculous! i could barely afford the can of paint back then, let alone blood!!" but he cant. and it kills him

[bigender-swag-battle]

please ignore my 2 failed attempts to send in an ask lmao 💔neways:

janice is that boygirl bigender who doesnt bother changing her appearance between genders save for when its a Bad Dysphoria Day And He Needs To Wear Something Masculine Right Now n then she raids the rest of the EM's closets to steal burrow n never return their clothes (floyd n lips are often subjected to this, they ended up buying two of each clothing item they get, one in their size n the other janice's), floyd is that girl-nb bigender who doesnt bother presenting feminine, but doesnt care cause its her gender presentation n she can do whatever she wants w it, n if he wants to present as masc n use he/him along w she/her then the shes gonna do just that, lips is that boy-nb person who gets mistaken as androgynous but in reality theyre just lazy w his masculinity, but despite that he'll end up pulling out the most hypermasculine outfit they have in their closet come time he has to preform on stage or do an interview w the rest of the electric mayhem, zoot is that bigender person whos purposely vague about the two gender they identify as so nobody knows what two genders it ids as, they just know that zoot's Not A Guy Or A Woman But Its Definitely Multiple Genders, also zoot'll say that one gender is dreamy n feminine while the other is sleepy n masculine but never explain what he meant by that, itll say that one is masculine but not a man n the other is feminine but not a woman n then never explain what that means, animal is similar to zoot except animal doesnt know that its bigender, he just thinks everyone experiences two genders at once, he just thinks that everyone has one feral n rabid gender n another musical n drumming gender, that everyone just feels masculine one day n androgynous the next, that everyone is experiences this, dr teeth is that boygirl bigender person who has duplicates of an outfit but the duplicate in question is literally just a masc/fem version of the outfit shes currently wearing, she'll have an (edited) entire closet dedicated to fem outfits n another dedicated to masc ones, he'll wear what is essentially the same outfit that he had on the other day but Dress Edition, he'll wear a full face of makeup but dress masculine

Oh hey I remember reading this on the submission form! I love how thought out these headcanons are, shoutout to The Electric Mayhem

[oflgtfol]

ok so for clarity im making this post in two parts because i had originally saved the original post as a draft but now something else has happened to complicate the situation but i feel like you still need to see the original post to know my feelings over time

[original post, drafted on august 29th:]

anyway i need a bit of a reality check on this like am i being weird and overthinking it or what

so my store has traditionally been all or almost all entirely women. the most we ever had was like 1, at most 2 guys working replenishment. we’ve had several long stretches where there was not a single male employee

my new SM is, well, a man. and we have many many problems with him for reasons that i wouldnt say are sexism but is mostly just that he’s a bad manager and the store is falling apart because of it and we’re bearing the brunt of it. especially weird dynamic because hes a 50 year old man and the entire rest of the store’s staff are all young women, at most mid 20s, and a sizeable number still literally in high school. our two full time managers, one in her mid 30s and the other in her 60s, have left for various reasons, which means that there is no sort of mediator to advocate for us anymore. its just this middle aged man overseeing a bunch of young women. add on how overbearing and bad he is as a manager in general and its like toxic lol

and so now hes finally started hiring for seasonal and its…. As far as i can tell, literally the only people calling the store saying they have interviews, have been guys.

and so i feel weird, and i feel weird thst i feel weird about it, that we’re now hiring like 5 men. but i also feel kinda justified in feeling weird because i almost feel like this is the SM pulling more weird shit. that he doesnt like this all female dynamic and is now trying to like, idk

IT FEELS WEIRD verbalizing it but hes a very condescending guy and the store is falling apart and so it almost feels like hes now giving up our current all female staff and trying to bring men in to fix it?? like he cant fire any of us women bc we’ve been here longer than him but now hes gonna bring in his own people for the first time and its all men? fundamentally changing the dynamic of the store that has been here for years longer than he’s even been with the company, and to further establish a disconnect between him and his young female staff ?????

am i overthinking it and reading condescension/superiority/whatever the word is into this. like i feel weird for being put off over hiring more than 1 dude per season but also this SM is backhanded like that so i really cant discount that there might be some weird vibes or motives behind this

[original post’s accompanying tags for the full picture:]

[new addition on september 3rd]

so now i just found out that this guy, who was literally the guy in the break room having his first day on august 29th, is being considered to be promoted to a manager

which is killing me because theres been all this talk among the managers for literally almost a year now about making me a manager and ive been indecisive because i dont know if i want to or not but ultimately its just been a “what if” situation to me because the actual SM hasnt said a word to me about it! he has never given me an offer. he has never even vaguely mentioned it to me. the only reason i know about it is bc im friends with the other managers and they tell me that hes been thinking about it for a while now

and my framing manager told me that this new guy was being considered as a new manager and i said “well. im actually kind of offended now that hes only been here for a week. meanwhile here i am” and she said “didnt SM give you an offer though?” and i told her that no the SM has not uttered a word to me about this and she was shocked

and its just. this kid has been here literally five fucking days? what the fuck? what the hell is going on. like yeah i am kind of offended actually. i still dont know if i would accept if given the offer but my indecision comes from whether i’d get an adequate raise and i cant come to a final decision without being able to negotiate my raise, which i cant do that if i havent been given the offer !!!! ive been here over two years i know pretty much everything in this store im cross trained on everything and everyone else in this store looks up to me as a non-manager superior and ive been told multiple times by the non-sm managers AND my non-manager coworkers that i should become a manager. meanwhile this guy has been here five days, ive interacted with him for two minutes, and of those moments i spent near him he barely spoke a word to me, and im sure he doesnt have the trust + camaraderie with my other coworkers yet as well, and yet SM wants him to become a manager like five days into him being hired ?!?!?

and again i dont know if i’d accept so thats why i feel kind of stupid for being offended but also like it’d still be nice to have offer ! especially compared to the guy who just started five days ago!!

[lesbenson]

Also don't hate me i think the edits were smart. I don't think they need to talk about what will change, that's not what she's emotional about. She's still hurt by him leaving and is afraid to be left again. I think that's what's emphasized by what was taken out. And having her not hug him is emblematic of that. She can't get close out of fear. She's not ready. She can't let him take care of her. She can't allow herself the hope. It's too scary.

okay so the actual story aspect that we got honestly doesnt bother me i just think the edits are really poorly done HFSHDFHF theres literally like. a continuity error or bad adr on every shot at the fridge 😭 it just really disrupts the intensity of the scene and if they had just. originally written a rejection (which overall i actually think they did ? i dont think they were like. gonna get together in this ep) and filmed a full version where they dont kiss it wouldve looked better ultimately 😵‍💫 it just seemed like they were running out of time + the scene right before i think they chopped up liv and carisi's conversation?

BUT yeah it makes sense that liv isnt ready and im currently taking that article that accidentally described a different ending as canon. (it was nbc insider and now its been edited but it originally described her breaking down in tears in his arms when she keeps saying she cant do it) like liv is honestly really not There yet but the end of this trilogy showing her at her loneliest point is.. not good. A better put together version of that conversation and whatever elliot said before "what if things work out" wouldve been even better. and i do love the scene overall i just think she wants to be held by him after all of this, and all the nuzzling (insane) felt like it was supposed to build up to her crying in his arms like she cant do ALL of this yet but she does want to. she wants to. shes being literally pulled to him the whole scene.

as far as editing out the kiss i understand plotwise bc. and maybe ive read too many fics. but theres no way liv would stop kissing him after theyve started. like kissing him and immediately saying "actually i cant do this" is not her tea. i really think she would have to be way more Ready for a kiss to happen. like there are two things she has not done and its say "i love (you) elliot stabler" and try to initiate actual romance? or like imply it. you know what i mean. she keeps grabbing his hands and telling him she wants to but also. how about we call it a friendship? what do you say partner? thought this was an oc case (its always good to work with you liv) NEW SUBJECT! (all that time together its like we were married) but you weren't. he was someone else's husband. BASICALLY I THINK THE KISS IS A VERY FINAL LINE FOR LIV THAT SHE IS NOT READY TO CROSS BECAUSE SHE CANT QUITE PUT THE LONGEVITY OF HER FEELINGS FOR ELLIOT INTO WORDS. HAHAHAAA IM FINE

theres a Lot in the clip where she leans in and elliots moves to look at her. bc he Wants to but he can tell shes all over the place rn. im sick

like wow what a beautiful tender crushing scene. hey what’s that

[ithisatanytime]

[ BOOM BOOM ] 1987 SPINNING DEE-DEE

 ive talked endlessly on here about the importance of the internet, how it is impossible to fully control they way they control television and the film industry and press, by its nature it cant be controlled. that being said they still try and i think thats more apparent today than ever before, basically post covid the character of the internet changed pretty dramatically, youtube itself is the best example of this, susan wosjciki (sp? i dont know shes a jew) has been doing her damndest to sink the platform so the userbase will flee the platform to other more easily controlled platforms namely twitch. i know im not the only one who noticed youtubes focus changing from your subscriptions, you know the content you chose to be exposed to, into a situation where the homepage is no longer your subscriptions but youtube recommendations which are astroturfed to hell and back. for instance today i got a video where some jew lawyer talks about alex jones legal woes, ive never been an alex jones guy but this jews face just triggered primordial anger in me, he read as “enemy” on a deep genetic level, so i clicked the video to call the guy a rat jew (which i did) but i noticed that literally all the comment chains were started by youtube accounts that were a generic womans name first and last, and the profile pics were ALL very attractive women dressed in lingerie, thats not so unusual bots are all over the place, what was unusual about it is all of these lingerie clad ladies using their full first and last legal name were all making cogent political points not just spamming links to some bulgarian scam website. the internet astroturfing botting shilling whatever you want to call it is fucking insane now, if you use 4chan you are well aware of what im talking about, anyway the main point of this post was meant to be some advice, i see people on anonymous message boards and comment sections attempting to call out shills in two ways, a surprising amount of these shills are ethnically jewish, its only surprising because there are so few jews and the shilling is so rampant, youd expect the majority of shills to be goys but in reality its literal paid jews in israel or its diaspora jews from around the world. a way that people have been attempting to combat this is to demand the person they are debating respond with “say christ is lord” this is effective, versus “denounce the talmud” or “spell out “god” these are NOT effective, and its very telling why one works and the other doesnt. the issue is most of the jews causing people problems are NOT religious, the religious ones are just as fucked up, but they dont have the same pull as these atheist jews have, almost none are actually atheist they believe in the occult and when you peel back the layers they are satanists but thats beside the point, they dont give a fuck about spelling gods name or denouncing the talmud, but tellingly they STILL wont say Jesus is king or Christ is lord or anything like that, because one thing all jews share is that they HATE jesus christ, atheist, orthodox, they fucking hate christ, they are ANTI christ, muslims are not antichrist they revere christ as a prophet, atheists are indifferent (in theory not in practice) but of the three major abrahamic world religions jews are the only one who are ANTI CHRIST, the talmud states jesus mother was a whore that jesus himself was a sorcerer and that he is boiling in either cum or shit in hell depending on how you interpret the hebrew. both religious and nonreligious jews hate christ, and thats simply not acceptable they can fuck right off, you dont have to be christian to be here but you cant hate the message of jesus christ because its foundational to having a functional society where people can actually have shit. even if you arent religious you need to appreciate that christianity was revolutionary in its message and it revolutionized the way people organize themselves socially. to put your neighbors needs above your own, to not just forgive but to love your enemy, these ideas were and are radical and while in practice christian nations never live up to the precedent set by jesus christ, the attempt alone makes for high trust societies. why would you allow someone to live amongst you who does not value forgiveness, who doesnt understand grace as a concept, im having a difficult time trying to explain myself, its not religoius zealotry thats prompting this, there are gentiles i know who went to church all of there lives but because it was a catholic church and not a christian church the values of christ were not imparted in them properly, they viewed forgiveness as a sign of weakness, and as a result they are universally dog shit, completely socially dysfunctional etc. the basic tenants of Christianity run counter to human instinct, but when they are employed even imperfectly you end up with countries and societies with unparalleled prosperity and satisfaction, frankly i dont trust people who lack this foundation, i dont even need to explain why its self evident, someone who thinks they are good because they dont understand what sin is or their need for grace is going to be a piece of human shit guaranteed, and nearly all jews fall into this category, the acceptions being messianic jews who recognize that christ was the messiah which is painfully clear if you read Isaiah which jews literally dont do.  

[freindly-neighbourhood-anarchist]

☀︎︎-: 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 :-☀︎︎

Kimetsu no yaiba x reader

°•.《 characters 》.•°

Rengoku, Giyuu, Shinobu, Sanemi

Tw: Swearing because Sanemi is Sanemi

____________________________________________

I'm definitely gonna binge write this series after watching the movie, I literally cant stop thinking about it--

Send in as much requests as you want!! :))

I do fluff, different AU's, angst and NSFW(we'll see).

Keep in mind, I havent read the manga. I'm caught up to the train Arc and that's it, so try not to spoil anything by requesting characters that havent appeared yet lol

« `` •"𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐧��~"• ´´ »

☼︎ ☀︎︎ʀᴇɴɢᴏᴋᴜ ᴋʏᴏᴜᴊᴜʀᴏᴜ☀︎︎ ☼︎

Holding hands is sort of a need for him-

He's huge with PDA and holding your small hand within his reassures him quite a bit. He never needs to ask to hold your hand, he just grips it whenever and wherever.

I feel like he'll sense when your nervous and be really perceptive, so he'd hold your hand to ground you in a way

It's highly effectve.

"Delicious!" Your energetic boyfriend chirped, eating his takoyaki with fervour and a bright smile.

You ate your own food from across him, shaking your head a little with a slight smile slanting onto your lips.

It's definitely been a long day, so winding down and eating with your amazing boyfriend is definitely a preferable way to end it.

He sort of sensed your stress as you came back from training, sweat sleek across your forehead. And thus, he ran a bath for you and then took you out for dinner to take your mind off of whatever was bothering you.

He's always had a keen intuition and was brilliant at reading emotions on others. It was a weird super power at this point. But he noticed how relaxed you were now that you were with him, it melted his heart.

His eyes flickered over your expression, his eyes soft with adoration and affection." This is certainly calming after a long day!" He exclaimed happily.

At his jolly aura, you nodded in agreement," Honestly... It's like you have some weird superpower to make me forget about whatever was annoying me. Kinda freaky." You shivered.

Letting out a hearty laugh, the man reached out, interlacing his long fingers with yours suddenly. The warmth of his skin sending goosebumps over your arms.

"I just know you too well! Nothing wrong or freaky about that!" His grin was filled with light.

Your fingers tightened around his, his warm skin seemed to be heating up your own body as well. Thank God, you were beginning to get cold anyways.

"Have I ever told you about how cute your hands are!" It was more of a statement than a question, pulling his hand and your hand closer to him so he could get a better glimpse at your soft hands." So tiny... So soft. It's like I'm being touched by an angel!"

"Geez, you're cheesy."

"You love it~!"

"... Fair point."

•«☔︎ 𝙜𝙞𝙮𝙪𝙪 𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙤𝙠𝙖 ☔︎»•

Bro I'm sorry, but I dont think he holds your hand much-

I feel like he thinks he doesnt need to show how much he loves you through actions, more so through blunt words.

But he will get the sudden urge to hold your hand every once in a while, so be prepared because he could get the jump on you at any point.

Doesnt like PDA that much, it makes him slightly uncomfortable because it's in public but I feel like he would get used to it later in your relationship.

Ocean-blue eyes stared at you hesitantly as you continued to speak about the new breathing technique you had learned.

Both you and Giyuu were walking peacefully through the garden you had grown over the years, the plants varying in different colours and sizes. They reminded him of you.

Your peaceful personality cued him to remember the petals of the flowers blowing gently in the breeze. Not to mention you smell very distinctly and sweet just like the flowers as well.

But as he walked with you in this haven, he felt pretty agitated and frustated. He hid it well with his usual deapan expressions, but he could feel the pit of the emotions growing bigger.

His hand twitched suddenly when the back of yours brushed against his, his cheeks tinting pink at the abrupt contact.

Gulping, he looked straight ahead with sharp eyes and a furrowed brow.

The atmosphere shifted.

And when you had stopped talking, he knew that you had noticed the harsh shift as well.

"Giyuu?... Are you feeling okay? You look like you're burning up." You questioned out of concern, a worried expression upon your face.

Shaking his head briefly, the ravenette continued to walk with his head staring straight ahead," I feel optimal. Why do you ask?" He was so obviously trying to change the subject.

You frowned a little at the stiff response and opened your mouth to respond but your boyfriend had beaten you to it.

"Let me h-... Hold your... Hand... Please." He uttered, looking down with red cheeks, an embarrassed scowl squirmed on his lips.

You were silent for a long while, making him wait nervously for your answer. What he wasn't expecting was the cute snort of laughter coming from you and grabbing his hand tightly within your own, your other hand wrapping around his forearm like it was a substitute teddy bear.

His cheeks heated up tenfold and he had to look away before you noticed.

"You're such a cutie. You don't need to ask to hold my hand you know?" You teased lightly, nudging him playfully by bumping your hip against his.

"I-it's embarrassing." He retorted.

"Whatever, cutie."

"No."

"Yes."

"Stop it."

꧁ꕥ 𝑲𝒐𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒖 𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒃𝒖 ꕥ꧂

She would sooo tease you for wanting to hold her hand-

Like, she would hold it obvi, but she'd tease you about it for a good 5 minutes before finally giving up lol

Flustering you is one of her favourite pastimes, it was what your relationship was built on top of in the first place. Teasing eachother was always a thing you guys did.

But Kocho takes teasing to a MAXIMUM.

It's like you guys are challenging eachother to a tease off and she just refuses to loose. She'd rather die.

Dramatic but true

What a fucking queen-

"Ara, ara~ what was that? You want to hold my hand?" The raven haired woman pressed her hand against her lips, raising a suggestive eyebrow at you." Oh~ How scandalous! You're saying we should do pre-martial hand holding? why, that's practically a crime!"

You deadpanned at your girlfriend's words," Holding your hand is a crime?..."

"Mmhm!"

"But we literally made-out yester-"

She smiled at you passive-aggressively," I'm afraid we can't hold hands until we're married! Too bad!" She sighed, pretending to seem devastated ," How could you suggest we do such a lewd thing? In public, no less! You're quite the little scoundrel, hmm?~"

Your deadpan only deepened," Well then... I guess I'll just have to marry you then, hm? So I can hold your hand for the rest of my life." You chimed out, a slight twinkle in your eye. At the sight of Kocho's cheeks tinting a bright red, you smirked in triumph." Oya~? What's that I see? Is that blush?" You poked her warm cheek affectionately," I think it iiiis~!"

Biting her lip, Kocho scoffed and rolled her eyes," Just because you won doesn't mean you-... Shut up." She huffed out, losing her composure.

" Aha! So I won." You grinned out," I think I deserve a prize for winning for like... the first time." You said that last part quickly.

" You're not getting a kiss, if that's what you're referring to!" She smiled up at you passive aggressively.

Now the win didn't even feel like a win.

I guess, Kocho will always win in the end.

You pouted at her, eyebrows furrowed," You're so petty...." You groaned out, before a cheeky grin crossed over your lips," How about letting me hold your hand instead?"

Kocho stared at your grin with an unimpressed look, before her eyes softened and a gentle smile spread onto her perfect lips." Wipe that cheeky grin off of your face and I might consider it."

A bright smile instantly spread onto your lips and you held out your hand expectantly for her to take it. Her radiant smile only widened and her hand settled into yours, her warm fingers closing over your own as if she was keeping them safe in her hold.

" Now you have to marry me." She stated simply," I want to hold your hand in mine for the rest of my life as well."

᯾༄𖦹.𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕘𝕦𝕫𝕒𝕨𝕒 𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕖𝕞𝕚 .𖦹༄᯾

BRUUUUH THIS FUCKING MAN-

Ok, so hear me out lol-

I have read up on his character a tiny bit and bro he's such a fucking SOFTY like-

If you were to ask him to hold your hand he'd highkey have to process what you said for like a minute or two before finally agreeing to it lol

He has such a tough-guy exterior when on the inside he's actually really caring to those who are important to him.

Definitely one of those characters who seem like pricks but they like something cute like cats or something-

"Uhm... Sanemi?" You spoke up suddenly, interrupting the peaceful silence.

Your boyfriend broke out of his daze of appreciating your beauty and hummed to let you know that he was listening, picking up some of his uneaten rice with his chopsticks.

"Can... Can I h-hold your hand?"

He choked on the rice he was eating, coughing into his fist and thumping his other hand against his chest to try and get the rice that shot down the back of his throat to go down.

You went to get out of your chair to help him, concern etched onto your face, but he held a hand up to stop you. Instead, you simply passed your water to him, as of which he chugged greatfully.

When he had finally gained his composure, he held out a slightly trembling hand, his cheeks tinted red as he let out a gruff," yeah... Of course you can, idiot. You don't have to ask..."

Adoration bloomed in your chest at his words and you grabbed his outstretched hand, instantly interlocking your fingers with his. Absentmindedly, you ran your thumb up and down his hand comfortingly as you smiled like an idiot to yourself.

Ba-dump.

Sanemi's heart thumped in his chest at the look of love on your face, feeling his whole body heating up. The wind pillar was known for being ruthless, intimidating and quite frankly... A bit of an asshole.

But around you? He's a completely different person.

Between you and his little brother, he's always going to have a huge soft spot for you both.

So he'll always treat you well.

Squeezing your hand lovingly, he let a slight smirk curl onto his lips," You look like a dumbass smiling like that.... You must really like me, huh?" He tried to tease.

"I don't like you."

Arrows shot through his heart, his smirk dropping in an instant," Oi-!"

You giggled at his response," I love you."

The frown on his lips wobbled a little, threatening to break out into an idiotic smile. Clearing his throat, he looked away from you and pressed the back of his unoccupied hand against his mouth to hide the smile that threatened to appear.

"Oh..." He could only respond with," y-yeah... Same here."

"You're so socially inept."

"I'm damn not!!" He grumbled, eyebrows furrowing," I fucking love you too!! Is that better?"

You grinned childishly, bringing his hand up to your mouth and placing a light kiss to it," much better."

It's safe to say that this was the day he vowed to marry you.

[mikalara-dracula]

Hii :3 i love your blog, can i have headcanons of ayato, Subaru and shuu having a big crush on a girl but the girl doesnt like them back :3 thanks

When their crush doesn’t like them back

ft. Ayato, Subaru, and Shu

Hi there, Anon!

Aw, thank you, I appreciate that. Thank you so much for requesting as well! Tbh, I think I may have overdone it with how much I wrote here, but I was just so inspired lol. Hope you enjoy reading it. Feel free to request again anytime. :))

Parallel post: When their crush doesn't like them back (ft. Reiji, Laito, and Kanato)

Ayato:

Oh boy, he’s not going to take this lightly--oh no, not at all.

Ayato was literally raised to think that he’s the best out of his brothers and anyone else.

So, you not liking him back is not something he’s not going to accept . . . at least, not easily anyways.

However, before we get to the negative, let’s begin with how all of this started.

Ayato first noticed you at cheerleading practice.

(Okay, so I’m not sure if their school in DL necessarily has a cheerleading team, but considering the students play sports, there’s a chance that there might be, but let’s just imagine that there is one for this scenario.)

Anyways tho, you were busy practicing the cheer choreography for the next basketball game, and with Ayato being on the school’s basketball team, he noticed you practicing from far away as he was practicing on the court with his team.

He grew interested quite quickly to know who you were; the way your uniform displayed itself against your body, the gleam that sparkled in your eyes as you cheered with the rest of your team. From that point on, he was determined to get to know you and make you his girl.

Since he likes to make a grand entrance, how he met you was staged with a few of his guy friends since he wants to leave an impression.

You were standing in the crowded hall with your group of friends, just talking about the most random of things whilst you held your textbooks for next period until a guy with a hoodie ran past you and knocked you over, making you lose your balance as you started to fall.

To your luck though, someone swooped in and caught you before you could hit the ground, his red locks falling into his face as he held you securely in his arms, pulling you upward to help you stand on your feet again.

You were shocked. Not being able to hold back gratitude for saving you from such a fall, you’d thank, “Thank you for-,”

“No need to thank me, babe . . . . The name’s Ayato by the way.” He’d smirk, walking off to join his group of friends that were waiting for him at the end of the hall, soon cheering him on as they rounded into the next hall knowing that it had all gone according to plan.

Through witnessing everything that happened, everyone was whispering and gossiping about it in the halls. This would lead one of your friends to comment whilst giggling with the other girls in your group, “Wow Y/N, he’s quite the keeper.”

“He just saved me from falling, not death--honestly.” You’d remark, finding this to be blown out of proportion as the girl gang simply laughed at your reluctance to overreact like everyone else was--you just weren’t that type of person.

Now that you knew who he was, the game was definitely on.

He tries to impress you in lots of ways.

Such as with his basketball skills when he’s practicing with his team or during an actual game since you’re cheering for his team.

He’ll literally point to you from a distance every time he makes a shot, leaving you to blush while you’re standing at the side with your cheer team.

With him being quite cocky, he definitely tries to make you laugh.

During school hours, if you’re busy in the halls getting ready for next period, he tries to get your attention from afar--even if it’s from the other end of the hall--with the rest of his guy friends, a smirk on his face as he blows a kiss to you from a distance, leaving you to blush.

Eventually through him trying to impress and talk to you so much, he takes the opportunity to ask you out.

And of course, with you not having feelings for him, you’d say no.

He was expecting that you’d say yes, so getting rejected was really strange to him, but of course, he wasn’t going to give up that easily.

Since he has a major crush on you, he’s going to be insistent about going out with you.

Like, he’s not taking no for an answer.

He’d constantly harass you in the halls or in class about this, saying to stop playing hard to get when you’re making it perfectly clear that you have interest in him at all.

He’ll even pass you notes in class asking about the same thing or try to get your attention in class by whispering your name while everyone is busy and mouth ‘you look hot today’, leaving you to turn around in your seat and frown as this was getting annoying, his arrogance being a turn-off.

With being desperate, Ayato will even go as to steal your cheerleading uniform from your locker and hold it for ransom.

There was one time where you were walking to the girl’s locker room to get ready for cheer practice, which meant changing into your uniform. You were already late due to talking with a teacher after class, so you knew the locker room was empty since it was after school and most students had already gone home, and that your team was already practicing without you.

You went inside and opened your locker to find that the uniform was gone. Instantly, you questioned where it could have gone since you had just washed it yesterday and had placed it in there this morning before school had started, but a familiar, yet annoying voice soon rattled your thoughts.

“Hey babe, looking for this?”

You’d turn to see Ayato walking toward you, the uniform in his hands as a smirk displayed itself on his lips. You literally almost screamed knowing he was in the girl's locker room as this was not a place for him to be, your privacy feeling disturbed.

“Ayato, give it back.” You’d say, trying to take it from him, but he would be quick to hold it up high and out of your reach as you gave your best attempts to jump and grab it.

“Not so fast, sweetheart. You’ll get this back on one condition.”

“Fine.” You’d retort, feeling tired from all your attempts. “What is it?”

“Go out with me.”

“Ayato, how many times am I going to tell you that it’s not going to happen?”

“You can try to deny me all you want, but a girl has never said no to yours truly.”

“Well this one has.” You’d hiss, jumping up high enough this time as you finally grabbed hold of it and yanked it away from him. “I don’t know what it’s gonna take to make you understand that I’m not interested.”

There was an awkward silence between the two of you and you thought he would just leave. You were going to walk away and change, but you noticed he just continued to stand there. Being fed up with this, you’d hiss, “What?”

“You’re already late for practice. You’ll get there a lot faster if you let yours truly help you with your uniform.” He’d grin.

“Get out!” You’d scream, pushing him in the direction of the door.

It took an endless amount of attempts, but he’d eventually get the message that you just weren’t into him.

Once Ayato came to terms with himself and that you had no feelings for him, he basically ignores you at all costs.

For example, if he sees you in the hall, he’ll look or walk away and pretend he doesn’t see you--you’re basically erased to him.

Even if you tried to pull him aside to talk to him to work things out and just be friends, he’d simply brush you aside, hands in his pockets as he’d mutter ‘tch’ before walking away.

“Tch! How can she not like yours truly? . . . . Whatever. It’s her loss. She’ll never find another guy like me.”

Subaru:

Oh my, for him to like someone is quite difficult since he’s not even a fan of himself.

However, there was something captivating about you that caused this vampire’s undead heart to throb.

He hated the fact that he had feelings for you since he doesn’t want to feel weak for anyone, but you made him feel things in ways he couldn’t explain.

Every day at school was the same to him until he saw you. You were new to his school and the teacher introduced you to everyone and this was when he took note of your existence.

Since Subaru is a loner, you really had no idea who he was or that he even existed at first.

Just like everyone else, you would walk right past him in the halls, but it’s not because you were rude, you just didn’t know him and it would be strange to just start talking to someone you didn’t know without a reason.

He on the other hand noticed everything about you--your every movement, the way your smile would gleam, the way your style bewitched him along with how your intelligence astonished him during class discussions.

How you noticed him though was quite the opposite of ordinary.

You were once walking through the crowded halls at school and witnessed a physical fight taking place in the middle of the hall with two male students, Subaru being one of them as everyone huddled around to watch.

You saw the way his fist collided with the other male’s face as he sent him to the ground, several teachers soon arriving as they broke up the fight and sent both of them to the principal’s office.

At that point, you knew who he was and everyone was talking about that fight for weeks. Due to this, you heard rumors about him as well--about how getting in trouble was common for him due to him getting in fights with students in the past and that he was quite brash in general, but you weren’t one to judge.

Now, returning to him having a crush on you.

When in class with you, he will stare at you but will look away quickly since he doesn’t want to take any chances on being noticed by you or anyone else. The last thing he wants is for someone to suspect that he has a crush on you.

You were once assigned to be his partner in class and let’s say he was a nervous wreck about it all.

He was a lot meaner than usual, mostly because it’s a defense mechanism he uses to demonstrate his tough exterior so no one can take advantage or hurt him.

But deep down, we all know that this bby car is a total softy :’)).

Since you both had a project to complete together, you both met up in the library to prepare for it. You were both looking at the textbook to find the information you needed when your hand accidentally brushed against his. He instantly withdrew it, muttered ‘tch’ as he walked away to hide the blush that bloomed on his cheeks. This left you confused, but you decided not to question it since he was quite the enigma.

I’ve cannoned this in the past with @liannelara-dracula that he likes to corner you when you’re alone, especially during break, so he can have a small conversation with you.

He may say something slightly perverted to flirt tho ;)).

Through knowing each other, you like waving to him in the halls as you’re walking to class with your friends, your endearing smile dawning on him quite incandescently.

He’d never wave back at first, always muttering his infamous ‘tch’, and was usually just annoyed by your kindness, but with you not withdrawing your gentle nature, he soon started to grow a bit more comfortable with this.

When he reached this stage, he’s always taken back by you saying hi to him casually like that. He doesn’t really know what to do, a minor blush appearing on his cheeks as he'd slightly, but very awkwardly, lift and wave his hand, quickly looking away from you to avoid eye contact.

Your friends, however, would take note of you saying hi to him and would constantly be asking you as to why since he’s bad news and isn’t very approachable.

“Guys, he’s just misunderstood. It’s not like we really know him and we can’t just judge by what’s on the surface.” You'd say.

He really isn’t the type to just confess due to fear of rejection and his feelings grew more and more as he got to know you.

You really brought a lot of fun and joy to him, something he isn’t too familiar with due to his upbringing, in fact, he even started to smile a little bit each time he saw you.

Even his brothers took notice of his new behavior, a certain fedora-wearing vampire wanting to know more than what was on the surface when they were all riding home together once.

“Fufu~, what’s with the new attitude, Subaru? Why the smile? Is it about a girl?”

“Tch! Shut up!” He’d retort, looking away from all of them as a minor blush appeared on his cheeks, leaving them all to laugh at him.

Later on though, Subaru caught on to the idea of you not liking him back due to seeing you kissing your boyfriend in the halls one day.

He was crushed in all honesty and ended up recoiling back into his old life of being lonesome.

He rarely talks to you now. Since he knows you have someone else, he doesn’t want to bother with getting to know you any further since it would just hurt him more.

He’d also be a lot meaner and irritated than usual. In fact, it wouldn’t be surprising if he’d get into more physical fights due to his anger towards this situation.

He hates the idea of you not liking him back . . . but to be honest, he kind of expected it because he thought it was something that was too good to be true.

“It only makes sense that someone like her is already taken . . . . Tch! Like she’d ever date a piece of shit like me.”

Shu:

Considering his childhood trauma, for him to take an interest in someone is quite rare and almost unexpected.

Especially since he believes that if anyone associates themselves with him, they either end up dead or are left in a really bad situation they can’t get out of.

It took him a while to realize his feelings for you. He honestly just kept denying them for the longest time, but he accepted them later on since you were always on his mind.

However, even though he's realized them, bear in mind that he is an ass about his feelings since he always tries to push them away. This is mostly due to his experience with Edgar since it left quite a mark on his childhood.

Anyways, Shu first took notice of you during homeroom--which he actually bothered to attend for once xDD--and noticed you sitting in the far corner writing some things down in your notebook whilst your ears remained attentive to what the teacher was saying, your beauty being captivating to him.

By him not going to class a lot of the time, he wasn’t too familiar with a lot of his classmates. But with you being in homeroom hour, he actually started to attend it a lot more because he found you interesting—the way you focused throughout the period as you listened to instructions and paid no attention to the other boys who sought your attention when the teacher was either too busy teaching or doing something else.

By seeing you a lot in homeroom, he’d notice you in the halls whenever you were either conversing with your friends or going to your locker to grab the stuff you needed for your next class.

The way your hair would whip every time you turned, the sound of your laughter echoing in his ears every time you and your friends joked about something.

It was all so amusing to him, something he wouldn’t typically see.

With you piquing his interest, he wanted to make himself known to you. In other words, he wanted you to talk to him in some way, so he staged an opportunity.

You were running late to class one day. Since it was on the second floor you had to use the stairs, but you soon stopped when you saw someone occupying one of the steps that prevented you from ascending, his figure asleep as you recognized it to be Shu.

You had heard of Shu before due to his family name and because he was so popular with the girls, along with the fact that he always skipped class, but you never paid him much thought since you had your own clique of wholesome friends.

Since you were already running late and that was the only way to get to class, you’d politely approach him and ask him to move, but of course, he didn’t give a response or budge.

You supposed he was in a deep sleep, so you reached out to tap his shoulder, his eyes snapping open as he’d quickly grab your wrist, preventing you from giving him a nudge.

“Huh, touching a man you don’t even know. That’s quite lewd of you.” He’d smirk.

His remark caused you to slightly blush, “That- that’s not- I wasn’t doing anything like that.”

“Huh, surely doesn’t seem like it.”

You grew pretty annoyed as you’d send him a frown. “Look, can you move? I have to get to class. I’m already late and you’re making me get there even later.”

“You being late isn’t my problem. If you wanna pass, just pass.”

You’d sigh taking his suggestion, taking a step forward as you attempted to skip over the step he occupied. As you stepped over, he lifted a leg causing you to trip and land on the landing, pain traveling through your body as you shot him a glare knowing that what he did was on purpose.

“Hey! What the hell?! You did that on purpose, you jerk!”

“You’re imagining things. First you trip and then you wanna blame your clumsiness on me.”

He was so lying, and you knew that for sure. You didn’t just imagine it. You literally saw him do it.

“But you-,” You’d sigh, knowing it was going to be pointless to continue arguing with him, plus, you had a class to get to. “Whatever, I don’t have time for this. I have to get to class.”

As you’d leave, he would make a perverted remark about your skirt, a blush rushing up to your cheeks as you’d walk away and up the next flight of stairs to get to your class.

After class, your friends had asked why you were so late and you had told them about your encounter with Shu. They were in awe at the story and even teased you about it.

With that incident, things only escalated, especially with his endless flirting. He honestly gets a kick out of it.

Since he skips class a lot of the time, if you happen to pass him in the empty halls as you walk to class or elsewhere, he’s going to say something to you for sure.

This can range from him making more perverted remarks about your skirt, or your panties if he’s laying down; even going to the point of teasing you about being perverted when you’re not.

That motha.

He even accuses you of bothering him when he’s the one who started the conversation.

Says that you ‘walk too loud’ and that you’re spoiling his music because of that reason.

You’d grow fed up with this and with being so distraught about it, your friends would be bound to ask what was bothering you. You’d mention why, but they would only find it amusing considering who he is. After all, Shu isn’t really known to give much of his attention to anyone.

“Y’know, if he’s talking to you in the halls for no reason, that says something. He only talks to girls he has an interest in.” One of your friends would say.

“Interested my ass!” You’d retort, rolling your eyes. “He’s such an ass. He’s just some spoiled rich kid that’s probably never worked a day in his life.”

Honestly, Reiji would love you on account of this xDD.

I’ve also cannoned this with @liannelara-dracula that even though he’s lazy, he would take the time to get to know your schedule and show up everywhere you’d typically go.

And then, he’d accuse you of stalking him since you’re always running into him.

Since he’s pretty perceptive, Shu eventually noticed that you didn’t like him through one incident that he took note of in the hall one day. You were walking and you ran into your crush, your heart racing as he stopped to talk and say hi to you. You were pretty good friends with him and he was just the sweetest guy ever. You always felt butterflies in your stomach whenever you were around him and deep down, you hoped that things would change between you two eventually.

To Shu, it was plain as day that you liked someone else. He’s centuries-old and definitely knows how this stuff works, he’s not stupid. Plus, the asshole he was also listening to your heartbeat when you spoke to your crush, making it far more evident to himself that you had an interest in someone else.

By knowing about your crush, he does use it to piss you off. He’ll act like an even bigger ass now because he knows you don’t like him.

“Y’know, it’s never going to happen.” He’d tease, his infamous smirk being evident.

“A girl can dream.” You’d retort. “You seem to do it all day, so why can’t I?”

Based on his fear of someone getting hurt because of being involved with him, he’d never tell you that he liked you.

Is actually pretty accepting of the fact that you don’t like him, and to be honest, he thinks it’s better off this way due to his fear of destroying something he would later on cherish, but yet, he still carries on with being an ass towards you since it amuses him.

“You’re better off without me. Dream all you want about that guy, but I know he’d never satisfy you the way I could.”

[necros-writing-stuff]

I'm simping hard for Mason and Bailey, so could we get mutual non-con with them? Also maybe with the person forcing the non-con degrading m!Mason and or m!Bailey about forcing them breed f!pc?

Like maybe Leighton wants to watch the hot swim teacher pipe that pretty little thing that wont let him photograph their gentiles, so he threatens Mason's job if they dont fuck in the locker room so he can watch. He knows pc is Mason's favorite, that Mason might actually have caught feelings. He's seen them hanging out outside school.

Or for Bailey, it could be that someone was pissed they couldn't buy you since you were paying your dues, or maybe Bailey just didn't like their vibe. They hold pc and their pissed off caretaker at gun point and make them screw. Bonus on the forced breeding kink, since bailey def doesnt want kids, and I cant imagine any PC wanting to put another kid in his care.

Sorry for the long ask 😅 Your writing is so good and you capture the characters so, so well. It really gets my imagination going.

Dear gods anon this haunted me from the moment I read it you're so smart I love you.

NSFW below (tw for noncon, loss of virginity)

Bailey

Waking up tied to a chair and gagged isn't exactly how Bailey wants to start his weekend, but here he is.

It had been a simple task. Drop off some money at Quinn's office. That's all.

So when he'd been hit over the head and knocked out, it had been rather unexpected.

He can see a man in a tailored suit looking at him and he immediately recognises who it is.

The guy was with that drug gang Bailey had seen to a couple months ago. Saving you from them, his favourite pretty brat.

Trust you to get in drug trouble over a fucking maths competition.

"You're awake. Good. We can talk about how you owe me," the man says. Yeah cause Bailey could do a lot of talking right now.

The door opens, two henchmen dragging in a girl with a bag over her head.

Bailey knows it's you, can recognise your voice as you whimper in fear.

Someone that had been standing behind Bailey's chair comes forward and starts to pull the caretaker's pants down. He can't fight back, tensing his arms to check how tight the bindings are.

The person covers their hands in some weird clear slime they then proceed to rub on his freed cock. It's cold and tingles.

"This one's your most requested right? Always pays her debts though. It's cause she's a virgin isn't it?" The boss questions as whatever that salve was kicks in, stimulating Bailey till he's hard as a rock.

The bag is ripped from your head, your eyes scrunching up at the light. You look so scared and helpless.

"Well you're about to drive her value right down with your own cock, mate," the boss nods to his men and you're brought forwards, skirt of your school uniform ripped up and pantes cut off with a knife.

You start sobbing and begging as you're picked up and your pussy is angled so that they can push you onto Bailey's cock.

Bailey is still. Staring straight ahead, trying not to let the rage he feels show.

He shudders as your body is pushed onto his cock, having to admit its a nice tight fit. God you would have been worth so much.

You scream, pain from being taken for the first time with so little preparation adding to the stress of the whole situation.

The henchmen holding you lift and drop you onto your caretaker's length at a steady pace. You feel no pleasure in the situation, just deep sorrow and an itching need to run.

But you can only whine out "I'm sorry," to Bailey, unable to look at him in the eyes.

It feels good. You feel good - you feel wonderful and Bailey can't help it when his balls start to feel tighter.

Can't help it when a tingle grows up his spine.

Can't help his hips jolting up the tiniest bit to meet you, needing more friction so he can cum.

"Oh and one last thing. We injected the girl with some hormone treatment to make her more likely to get pregnant. Good luck selling a used up whore then," the boss finally interjects, but its too late.

Oh fuck no.

Bailey is already on the verge as the man speaks, ejaculated deep inside your pussy since the henchmen so kindly push you down when they notice his body spasm.

The men let you go, your arms coming to wrap around Bailey's shoulders as you cry into his neck.

"A few more rounds, I think. Let's get our money's worth," it's only now Bailey sees the camera pointed at the two of you.

"This time the girl will move herself," a gun is brought out and you wrap yourself tighter around Bailey's body, seeking comfort. You're still sat on his cock, that hasn't gotten soft even after his orgasm. Just what was that salve?

He's going to kill them when he gets out of this rope.

Mason

He can't belive he's doing this.

Can't believe he has your cunt in his mouth, tongue deep between the folds as he licks away.

He wishes it were under any other circumstances.

Leighton had always rubbed him the wrong way, but Mason loved swimming. Loved teaching, this was his perfect job.

And you were his perfect student.

So kind and understanding, so innocent compared to the horrors he dealt with most classes.

You'd been so shy when you'd caught him swimming naked, but had accepted it without judgement.

You had been lovely to talk to at the pond.

You clung to his hair so tightly as he ate you out, moans echoing through the locker room.

Leighton had threatened his job. Had told him he wanted a video of that good one getting ruined by a handsome man like Mason. Wanted to see the pretty thing impaled on his cock.

And it worked. The threat worked. But at least Mason was the one corrupting you, he reasoned. At least it was someone who genuinely cared for your wellbeing.

You were shaking like a leaf when he had explained the situation, looking between him and the headmaster, off the to the side holding a camera.

"If you don't do it, I'll send every university you apply to personal letters telling them what a whore you are," Leighton added, and you reluctantly let Mason strip your uniform and kiss up your thighs.

"She's wet enough," Leighton calls from behind the camera, admiting the flushed pink dusting your cheeks. Forced, yes, but your were enjoying this, weren't you? What a little harlot.

Mason frees his length from his swimming trunks, never having the chance to change from his last lesson.

Bending your legs up so they're pressed to your chest, he gently kisses your forehead.

"It's going to be okay," another kiss, "just breath nice and steady for me." It's the same soothing tone he used to teach you.

You take in a deep breath as Mason pushes himself in, inch by inch. Both of you try to ignore Leighton moving to get a better angle.

Soon enough, your teacher is balls deep inside of your virgin pussy, the two of you breathing raggedly while staring into each other's eyes.

You both look upset.

"Well fuck her then," the headmaster tuts, and Mason starts to thrust.

Your mouth falls open, an expression so lewd and lovely the teacher wishes he could have seen it in another situation.

Wishes he could have waited for your graduation and asked you out on a proper date.

Not lose himself in your cunt, on camera for the pervert blackmailing you both.

And he does lose himself, can't stop his hips from hammering away at the warm, tight, wet heat that sucks him in like it was made for him.

Mason can't last this long. He brings a hand to start rubbing circles around your clit, eliciting more moans and whimpers.

You're so pretty, so good for him.

"M-mason, sir," you yelp as he hits a nice spot, and his breath catches in his chest.

Leaning in, he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and teasing.

Your walls tighten around his shaft, signifying your end coming soon and Mason increases the pressure on your clit.

You milk his cock so perfectly he cums right when you do, filling you up to the brim with seed and aware it was spilling onto the bench below.

He can't bring himself to let you go when he's done, has to keep you covered until Leighton puts that camera away.

"Excellent. Now, try to get used to each other, I won't be satisfied with only one tape."

[mellomanjiro]

Hello!! Can i request a near x reader that did the shinigami eye trade with their shinigami (feel free to name them whatever u like)

when near finds out that his s/o possesses the death note and the eyes, he is devastated. he doesnt mention it to reader, but their shinigami tells them that near knows and then, reader just disappears for a while. when they return, they look completely different and dont recognise near?

POVthis sounds interesting to write

thanks for the request <3

———————————————————————

(Y/N’s POV)

I’m going to do it, I’m going to make the eye deal. I think to myself while I’m trying to force myself to sleep. I’ve had the death note for some time now, just killing people for fun but it’s getting hard when you don’t know people’s names.

My shinigami, Midora keeps offering me the eye deal. I get shinigami eyes that can see everyone’s names and life span and in return I give up half of my life. I don’t want to be old anyways.

As I continue to think I hear the voice next to me start to speak, “Y/n what are you thinking about?”. “Nothing Near, it’s okay go back to sleep” I say to him.

Near is my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for awhile now and the problem is that Near is investing Kira. Kira is a serial killer who’s killing criminals with a death note but no one has found him yet. Near also doesn’t know I have one of those notes too.

“Y/n you’re definitely thinking about something. I know you and you have trouble sleeping when you’re deep into your thoughts. Come here” he says and lifts up the blankets offering me to move closer to him. I do just that and he wraps his arm around me.

“Y/n don’t worry about anything and just sleep, okay?” “Okay, love” I reply and kiss his forehead let myself relax in his arms. Near is really adorable, I can never hurt him. I eventually fall asleep.

I wake up in the morning and I notice Near is already awake. “Good morning y/n!” he says and I reply.

“I’m going to meet the SPK today, so you’re going to be home alone. Are you okay with that?” he says. “Yeah, I’ll be fine” I reply smiling.

Near gets ready and leaves and I decide to talk to Midora. “So y/n, have you made a decision yet” they ask me. “Yes” I tell Midora. “Ooooo what is it?” their harsh, raspy voice says. “I’m going to do it. I want to make the trade” I say. “Are you sure y/n?” Midora asks me. “Yes” and then it’s done.

I thought it would be painful but it wasn’t. I feel no different. “Haha y/n! Let’s go test them out” says Midora and so we leave.

Once we’re outside I see everyone’s names that’s walking on street. With their names there’s also a combination of numbers at first I didn’t understand the numbers and all of sudden I know exactly what they mean, it’s that person’s remaining lifespan.

I hide in a corner and pull out my book, constantly checking if anyone can see me. I see my first target, a tall white man with dark hair wearing a suit. His name is Alex Lee. I write his name down and also write “car accident” and then a car loses control and hits him and he’s instantly dead. I love my eyes.

“Alright Midora, that’s enough fun for now. Let’s go back” I say. And we make our way back home.

(Near’s POV)

After a long day with the SPK I come home and notice Y/N has noticed I was home yet. They’re probably at their desk working on the case. I decide I should sneak in and surprise them.

I slowly walk to the room and slightly open the door and I see something that I wish isn’t true. I see y/n watching the news and writing names down in a notebook. Y/n has one of those murder books! They’re also writing multiple names down when when there’s only 2 showing on the tv.... they must have those powers that changes your eyes. I’m in shock right now I don’t know what to do.

I quietly close the door and go into my toy room. This is the only place that makes me feel safe. I grab a puzzle and start working on it to help me with my thoughts. Could y/n really be using that book? They couldn’t be, right? I stop trying to convince myself that what I saw was fake. Y/n has a notebook and has powers. I can’t say anything to y/n, I’ll have to figure out a way to catch them.

(Y/N POV)

All of a sudden I hear Midora giggle. “What is it?” I ask. “Haha.... He saw you” she says. “What? Who? What are you talking about Midora?” I ask. “Near, haha, he saw you using the book and your new eyes” says Midora. “What? When?”, “Just now, he came in and saw you” she says.

I’m freaking out and start to cry. “Midora, what am I supposed to do?” I ask. “Kill him, kill Near” she laughs again. “That’s not funny, I’m not going to kill Near. I love him!” I say, angrily.

“Well y/n, you know he won’t approve” she says. That’s true, Near wouldn’t understand what I’m doing. I can’t kill him. I rather die then know that he’s not alive anymore. I realize what I must do, I’ll have to run away.

I grab only my notebook and take off, I’ll have to move to a city far away from here and never see Near, my love, ever again.

(Near’s POV)

After solving my puzzle I come to the conclusion that I must confront y/n now. I love them and I want to understand why they are doing this. 

I get up and start to walk to the room y/n was in. Before I open the door I get nervous and start playing with my hair, something I’ve been doing forever anytime I get nervous.

I open the door and I don’t see them. I call for y/n all over the house and nothing. All of their stuff is here except them.Y/n is gone and I’ll never see them again.

(Y/N POV, Time skip)

It’s been years since I first got the notebook, I also moved to a new city a few  years ago as well. I don’t remember why but I want to move back to the last city. It is getting pretty boring here and I haven’t used my book in awhile. 

Once we get there, Midora says she wants to go shopping and we find a street filled with little shops. One that catches my eye is a little toy shop. We both go in and I notice it is not that busy. 

I was too busy admiring all the little toys that I accidentally bump into someone. 

“Oops, sorry” I say and turn to look at them. The person I bumped into was a short, white haired, pale man, who seems about my age but there is something childlike about him. He also seems somewhat familiar. 

The man just stares at me. He’s probably mad at me but it was an accident. “Hey, I’m very sorry about that” I say to him and then turn around and start walking away.

“Y/n....?” I hear him say. I turn back to face him. I’m in shock. How does he know my name? I don’t know him.

“Umm ya? Do I know you?” I ask the man. “Huh? You don’t recognize me? Has it really been that long that you’ve forgotten about me?” he says. “It’s me, Near”.

Near? I look at him and his name is not Near. Above his head I read “Nate River” not Near. Maybe it’s a code name he’s using, I know some people were doing that when Kira was around and maybe he still is using it.

“You’ve changed y/n, you look so different” Near says to me.

“I’m sorry Near, I don’t know you and I don’t know how you know my name” I say. I hear Midora laugh and Near’s face just changes. He seems very upset and disappointed. I feel bad for the guy but I honestly don’t know him.

I turn away again and try leaving. I must go, this is honestly scary.

I feel something grab my arm and I turn around again. Near has grabbed me. “Perhaps this will help you remember” he says and then all of a sudden he kisses me and something in me kisses him back and it worked. I remember everything. He still loves me after all this time. After what I’ve done to him.

“Near....” I say and hug him, and I will never let him go.

I have never written for Near before this was interesting, would you like me to continue or turn this into a multi chapter fanfic? There’s so much I could do with this topic, so let me know :)

and again thanks for requesting!

[artickoushi]

haikyuu characters as cliche romance tropes

alrighty so sorry for not posting for the past week! first we thought i had covid i do not, then i started throwing up like twenty times a day so that was fun, then yesterday i think i threw my back out so i can hardly move! yay! anyway thanks for reading!! pt 2 will be out if you guys like this!

hinata shouyo

the childhood friends to lovers

so yall are probably neighbors and your rooms are across from each other

so hinata being hinata is probably the one to start the interactions to get to know you

now he has some manners, so he knows it would be weird to knock on your front door to ask you to be friends

so he probably does that thing where he writes a question on a piece of paper and tapes it on his window

and when you post your answer and continue with another question?

this boy is pratically shaking with happiness

so things quickly set off from there

even of the two of you dont have a ton in common I think it would still be super easy to get along with hinata

so soon the two of you are like super comfortable with each other

like the type of comfortable where you can change in the middle of his room with him in it

as long as he isn’t facing you because he got a nosebleed and passed out one time when he forgot you were changing and turned around to ask you a question and found you in a shirt and underwear

so yeah

super comfortable

anyway you start having sleepovers and cuddling is big thing for you two

natsu asks hinata very loudly when he’s gonna ask you out at breakfast so you can offically become her big sister

he almost passed out the first the first time she asked

you both have keys for eachothers houses

and you have a plank of wood sitting between your windows for easy access

you call each others parents either by their first name or mom/dad

by the time the two of you go to highschool you two are probably attached at the hip

your honestly the two people in school who everyone thinks is dating

cause you call each other nicknames and hug for a little longer then necessary

but it probably takes him til his second year in highschool to confess

i think it would be like after a major game win

and you came rushing down from the stands with suga, daichi and asahi and he would just run up to you and hug you

but before you can pull away from him and hug the others on the team he just cups your cheek and just flat out says it

like he’s still high on the surge of confidence from the win so he litteraly just looks at you and says ‘i love you’

kageyama tobio

the dramatic misunderstanding

I think that without looking at Kageyama’s face, he’d probably look really common to other people. 

so something probably happened where one of your friends left you to struggle by yourself in a sticky situation 

So like when you go to confront him about it, he’s probably on his way to volleyball practice after his last class

so you rush up to him, your nostrils flaring and eyes burning with anger as you reach up and yank on his shoulder so he stumbles and is now facing you 

as you fold your arms across your chest, ready to demand answers, you freeze

“what the fuc-”

yall just stand there for a good five minutes with awkward asf eye contact

before you finally snap out of it and immediately your face flushes with embarrassment as you bow and spew out apologies one after another. 

so after you finally stop apologizing and explain that you had mistaken him for someone you were upset with

he kinda understands? like he still confused on how you mixed up your friend with him but whatever

so after you explain you ask if you can make it up to him

and he’s probably wary at first cause like? you almost physically harrased him? even if you mistook him for someone?

but after you follow him around for the rest of the day and insist that you make it up to him, he gives in out of annoyance and makes a deal with you

the deal was for you to buy him milk at lunch everyday for two weeks

so yeah

you guys start eating lunch together

and he eventually realizes he likes your company somewhat?

and like your surprisingly good with reading people so he has you come to practice sometimes

but yeah the two of you just start hanging out and eventually he asks you out one day when you were at the park at 2 am cause you wanted mcdonalds

tsukishima kei

enemies to lovers

i think we all know this tall glass of salty ass water can be a competitive mf when he wants to be

and I think while he’s in class 4, he would be the type thats naturally smart

like he wouldnt study and he’d get an A on some pop quiz or smth typa smart

lucky ass mf

anyway

so your labelled as the smart kid in school

so like no matter what year someone is they come to you for help

and you hold your top spot in class proudly

so when some blind ass, blonde, sirenhead reject looking ass comes in and knocks you down to number 2?

oh boyyy war has begun

tsukishima is quick to notice the annoyed glare you send his way and it doesnt take him long to figure out why

so tsukki being tsukki, he decides to mess with you a bit

and thus WW3 has begun

the two of you litteraly eat lunch together and you go to volleyball with him just to fucking bicker with each other

your dedicated

so it goes on forever

if your at volleyball all the boys (except yams cause hes loyal sometimes) will join on your side and bicker with Tsukishima as well

eventually Daichi will step in (maybe suga) and your honestly the type of people who will just throw dirty looks and make silent death threats at each other

yall act like five year olds istg-

so it’s probably about midway through the school year when you stay home sick

and Tsukki’s just looking around the whole day trying to find you when Hinata tells him at practice that you stayed home sick

and he’s just like ‘oh good riddance’

but then its been almost a week now and you still haven’t come back to school?

and he’s lowkey worried and he almost showed up at your house the day before with a slice of strawberry shortcake and he realizes he’s getting kinda lonely at school (despite Yamaguchi’s attempts to help)

so when you actually do come back to school (turns out you had a really bad cold), you sauntered right up to Tsukki all smug and stuff since you expected him to be in a bad mood

“did ya miss me, Tsukki?” 

he just chuckled and plops and hand down on your head to ruffle your hair

your honestly too caught up in trying to pry his hand from his head to notice yamaguchi down the hallway taking pictures- 

so he finally moves his hand from your head and wraps his arm around your shoulder before pulling you into a bone crushing side hug

and as your repeatedly smacking him and yelling at him to let go cause you ‘can’t breath’, you almost miss his reply

“I sure did pipsqueak”

so you two start hanging out

and of course you still have your competitions but now the two of your are literally flirting and the team thinks its kinda gross but also good for Tsukishima cause he managed to find someone that for some reason likes him? whatever

so your probably at a cafe with him a while later, its an unofficial date the team is even at a booth on the other side of the cafe to keep an eye on the two of your, and Tsukishima ordered a slice of strawberry shortcake obviously

so probably wanting to tease him when he got to the last couple bites of his cake, you picked up your fork and before he could stop you, scooped up the cake and shoved it in your mouth with an innocent smile

so he just smirks and mentions that you have some frosting on the corner of your mouth, but you cant seem to figure out where

so instead of wiping it off with a napkin like a normal person, or using his fingers to wipe it off like some cliche romance novel, this mf curls his hand around the back of your neck, leans in and full on kisses you

somehow during the kiss he manages to snag some of the cake back so when he pulls away he’s chewing

he just smirks and says ‘delicious’

the team just starts screaming incoherently-

-

[fandomsnstuff]

Angus figures everything out and fucks up Lucretia’s whole Thing AU

Lucretia hires angus, innoculates him, and is like this is the deal with those missing people cases you were investigating

Angus says oh okay! This totally and completely satiases my curiosity :)

Internally angus says this is sus as hell

So he does what he does best, he snoops

So angus is snooping and somehow, cause he's a little crime boy who can sneak around real good, he finds the starblaster

He's like what the fuck is this

He gets in, and it's.....odd. he doesnt linger in any one room too long, he just kind of pokes his head into the bedrooms and moves on (he figures he shouldnt stay here too long, lest he get caught)

But the most peculiar thing is how lived in this place looks. There's mismatched furniture with throw pillows and blankets in the common area, a chore chart on the fridge, the bedrooms are all cluttered with knick knacks and clothes, beds unmade, theres a lab with papers scattered around tables and taped to the wall

But one room catches his attention

It's... fairly simple, and emptier than the others. Bookshelf with some books missing, a bare desk, but what catches his attention is the pile of red on the bed

He goes to investigate and finds robes and jackets, all with an odd patch and names embroidered on them

He finds, in this order:

A robe with "lucretia" embroidered on it

A jacket and robe, together as if someone had been wearing them at the same time, with "lup" and "taako"

A jacket with "davenport"

A robe with "merle"

A jacket with "magnus"

(there’s no barry robe cause he fell off the ship with it, these are the robes/jackets lucretia took off of the crew members as she sent them off to their new lives)

Now. This is after crystal kingdom and angus was at the candlenights party. He knows the director's name is lucretia

He knows who Davenport is

He knows who taako, magnus, and merle are

This is pre-LUP incident, so he doesnt know who lup is

Angus, appropriately freaked out, puts them all back and BOLTS

Angus vacates the premises

Runs back to his room

He tries to figure out what this all means, but his thoughts dodge around the obvious conclusion that's right in front of him

Hes too nervous to go back, it's not until the L U P incident that he decides okay. I have to go back

So he goes back. He goes into the room labeled Captain's Quarters (although "captain" has been scratched out and changed to "cap'nport". Angus doesnt think too hard about what that means)

In the desk he finds some folders with the same weird logo as the robes and jackets. He doesnt look in them. Not yet. He can do that back in his room. He cant spend too much time here.

Then he goes to the lab. He doesnt know what hes looking for, but he grabs ones that seem important. A notebook or two. Some papers clipped together. He just grabs and shoves them into his bag and he fuckin bolts again

he looks at what he grabbed and some of it he can read, some of it he can't

They lived in that ship. They were going on a mission for something. They made the grand relics to stop something. Theres a lot of notes on the planes.

Angus recognizes the way some stuff is redacted, and he kind of figures out that there must be another voidfish. And if the directors name was on one of those robes, maybe she has it.

Refuge mission comes and goes

Angus, cause he's so fucking good, is able to sneak back into lucretias personal quarters and finds junior. He fills a water bottle with the ichor and gets the fuck outta there

He gets back to his room, innoculates himself and is like AAAAAAAAAA

Cause he can finally put it all together properly

And he basically pieces together the whole hunger situation himself with the notes he grabbed

The stuff he grabbed from davenports room was the crew's like profiles or whatever from when they got hired on to the mission so angus now knows who lup is

So angus is like oh i GOTTA fix this

So he heads down to the reclaimers dorm with his bottle of ichor

Angus: i need you to drink this Merle: what is it? Angus: voidfish ichor Taako: *laughs* hate to break it to you kid, we already drank the voidfish juice. Angus: just- please? Magnus: yeah alright

So magnus drinks it. His breath catches and he kinda goes weak and he's shaking and he drops to his knees. After a minute or two (or more) he looks up at angus. "Holy shit," he says. He grabs the bottle from where he dropped it and holds it out to taako and merle. "Drink it." He says.

"Yeah alright," merle says. Same deal as with magnus.

Once merle collects himself, they both turn to taako.

"Yeah, alright. Sure. Let's get taako in on this weird party," he says, taking the bottle and drinking

This time, magnus is ready and he catches taako when his knees give out

"Im gonna fucking kill her," taako mumbles into magnus' shoulder, his knuckles white as he grips his shirt.

"You're not gonna kill her."

"Im gonna fucking hit her so HARD, i swear to god."

Taako keeps his face in magnus' shoulder, but magnus and merle watch as angus crosses the room to where taako had left the umbrastaff, and he walks back over to magnus and taako on the floor

"Sir?" Taako looks up at angus. Angus holds the umbrella out, "i think i know where your sister is."

(Lup, meanwhile, in the staff: HEEEEELLLLL YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH)

It takes taako a second, but he realizes what angus is saying and scrambles out of magnus' hold and to his feet. He takes the umbrella and lifts it, about to snap it when angus says, "wait!"

Taako glares at him. "Ive waited ten years, kid. Make it snappy." "Madame director had a holy symbol in her office. I think it would ward against your sister, if shes a lich." "Uuugggggghhhhhhhhh LUCRETIAAAAAA"

The four of them go down planetside under the guise of a magic lesson and not wanting to burn any more "cryptic messages" into the walls

Taako snaps that fuckin umbrella as soon as his feet hit solid ground

Lup's back!

Lup does some magic shit to summon barry, so barold shows up, happy reunion, and then a Discussion on what to do re: davenport not being innoculated and re: lucretia

Their plan boils down to this: thb and angus will go back to the moon and act as if this never happened. As far as lucretia knows, thb are still under junior's influence

As soon as they can get davenport alone without rousing any suspicion, they bring him to their room and innoculate him. Once he's got his memories back, he'll be powerful enough to a) get his bracer off/disable the tracking spell in it and b) get off the base undetected

Davenport will definitely not want to go back to playing butler, so he'll sneak off the base and hang out with lup and barry until lucretia sends the boys to wonderland

When the boys get sent to wonderland, theyll meet up, get the bell all together, and THEN confront lucretia, cause at that point theyll have the whole light, and they'll have Options

So they do just that. They go back and innoculate davenport a few days later, a week at most

A panic ensues once everyone realizes davenport is missing

AND the tracking in his bracer is turning up nothing

Lucretia's blood pressure has never been higher

But everything goes as business per usual

Lucretia, oddly enough, suspects nothing re: the boys ‘cause surely they wouldve confronted her if they remembered

The boys get sent down to wonderland. They meet up with blupjeans and dav at the entrance. With the six of them with all their memories and full access to their skills they take edward and lydia down in like 30 minutes. Tops.

So edward and lydia get their asses thoroughly handed to them by the six of them

(Davenport has the time of his LIFE)

They head back to the lich cave, barry gets in his new body and gets innoculated (the boys brought some ichor with them for him)

Lup possesses barry, then barry-with-lup and dav get in the pocket spa and back up to the moon they go

Lucretia is in her office when avi comes knocking "Uh... director? The boys are coming back." "Already?" "Yeah." "Are you sure it's them?" "Yep."

Lucretia is.... stunned. It's been... an hour and a half. Two, maybe. She has full faith in the boys but they took down wonderland in two hours?????

Not even two hours

She goes to meet them, highly suspicious

But they arrive and, sure enough, it's them. No magic. No tricks. It's them, for sure.

taako has the bell and hes just holding it casually from the top as if it isnt one of the most powerful magic items in existence. And she can tell he isnt thralled, that's just how hes decided to transport it.

Lucretia: ive got to admit, you boys took care of that...much faster than i expected Magnus: ah, it was no big Merle: piece of cake! Taako: yeah, luce, shit was easy. Dunno what you were talkin' about earlier.

And lucretia just freezes. Luce. Thats what taako called her. It’s what they all called her, really, but it’s the nickname Taako took 4 whole cycles to give to her, officially cracking the door of friendship open to her. And she looks him in the eyes and she knows that he knows. And she looks at merle and magnus and she can tell they know, too.

And taako gives her a venomous smile, all teeth, and says, "why dont we go have a little chat, madame director" and she flinches at the way he spits out her title

She doesnt know what to do but nod and turn to leave. As she turns, there's angus, looking up at her with a determined set to his brow, and she knows he knows too

They head back to her office, and taako pulls the pocket spa out, and before lucretia can ask him what hes doing, out walks barry and davenport. And barrys eyes have got that red glow about them, so she knows lup's here too.

"Take down the lich ward, lucretia," barry says.

She does, and now there's a firey, red robed lich among them.

Now this is where things get a little iffy for how they work out but here's what i got

They have a similar confrontation as canon where theyre bickering about staying or going, shield or no shield, and im thinking this is where taako has his "there's a third option" realization

And, because they did extreme wonderland speedrun, and they didnt take a whole extra day to travel to the lich cave and just used fuckin magic to get there, theyre a whole day ahead of where they were in canon

The hunger is close enough at this point tho that they can enact the plan like. Now.

But magnus insists on returning Fisher's baby to them first

As magnus takes junior, lucretia works on getting the base secured and getting the bureau members ready for if the hunger touches down before they can cut it off

Magnus goes down to fisher with the baby, he takes his axe and swings, breaking the tank open

Johann, still alive and now soaking wet, is like dude wtf

Magnus returns the baby and out goes the story and song

Now johann is REALLY like DUDE WTF

Magnus is like im off to save the universe. Peace.

So since theyre a whole day ahead of the hunger, all seven of them go up in the ship

And then they fight and they win and they cut the hunger off and it's rad

The end