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[rindreamery]

out of breath, got me going like...

some of the attractive things that the blue lock men do. featuring: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, michael kaiser, oliver aiku, yukimiya kenyu ─ content: fluff, suggestive

note. yukki debut on my acc ??? do we fw the casual, less poetic writing cuz there was really no way to make this poetic 👩‍🦯 just astronomically down bad writing all around

itoshi rin sends you gym pics without you having to ask.

it initially took a lot of convincing, at first, to get rin to send you a picture. in his eyes, it was embarrassing— the idea of pulling his phone out mid-workout, taking a picture, sending it to you, and then going back to whatever he was doing. his mind would drift off to the weird stares he would probably get from others, and the fact that he also wasn’t exactly known for knowing how to pose to begin with. as much as he loved making you happy, there were just some things he was not willing to do.

it took a lot of begging, and for the first few months, the answer was always, “no.”

the first picture came unexpectedly. your phone was thrown off to the side of the bed, not really anticipating any texts from rin for the next hour or so, given the fact that he was at the gym. so you were surprised when you heard a familiar tune come from your phone— one specifically assigned to his contact. you had no idea why he would be texting you. 

you’re absolutely floored at what you see; jaw left hanging and eyes practically bulging out of their sockets, almost dropping the phone.

it's a gym picture. he's doing a normal pose, nothing too special. he’s standing in front of the mirror, one hand shoved into the pocket of his shorts, and the other holding onto his phone. his face was partly covered by his phone, but you could see the blush spread across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. but it wasn’t that that got your attention— no, it was something entirely different.

he was wearing a sleeveless compression shirt, giving you a full view of his arms. they were glistening in sweat and perfectly toned. the arm that was propping his phone up was slightly flexed, from the position it was in, adding to the bulk and definition in his biceps. and you could see the veins traveling up the arm of his hand, the one that was shoved into his pocket, crawling up from the back of his hand to his forearm. the bright overhead lighting, with a combination of the dim background lighting, served to emphasize every line and crevice of his exposed skin. 

“this what you wanted?” came a message right after, “i know you’re reading this right now, respond.” you felt weak. he definitely researched how to do this.

words couldn't describe how you felt. so, your immediate response was to send him a flurry of incoherent texts; a mixture of randomly pressed keys and crying emojis. but that’s what feeds his ego— your reactions are what makes smile smugly to himself, covering his lips with his hands as he reads your texts over. he starts to send you gym pictures more consistently after that, patiently waiting for your response after each one. at this point, it’s become a part of his gym routine.

itoshi sae drapes his arm over the back of your seat while reversing.

driving with sae was a true test of control— specifically, yours. it had become increasingly hard to focus whenever he was driving, with every little motion of his body seeming to pull your attention away from the road. he was just so distracting, to the point that you had started offering to drive instead. yet to no avail, because he always insisted on being the driver, furthering your silent suffering in the passenger's seat. but, there was nothing more testing than whenever he was reversing the car.

it’s an internal battle; it takes everything in you not to ogle him so openly. and somehow, you’re losing a battle to yourself.

it’s as if your eyes instantly become magnetized to sae— the way he moves when he rests his arm so casually, yet so securely, on the back of your headrest’s frame. and it doesn’t help that this position gives such a perfect view of him. the way the muscles in his arm ripple and flex ever so slightly, but visibly, under his loose dress shirt. the way his folded sleeves ride up every time, and the exposed part of his forearm constantly taunts you to take a peek. you hate that you suddenly become hyperaware of everything he does in that moment. especially his fingers, and the way they tickle the back of your neck, almost touching you but not quite there.

you have to hold back the subtle shudder that sweeps over your body.

it feels like he’s taking up so much space, demanding you to notice him. the way the scent of his cologne wafts over to you, the bergamot and sandalwood notes of it slowly overwhelming your senses. the faint shift in his posture, emphasizing the subtle stretch of his neck, giving you a view of his collarbones and necklace. and the way his lips curve ever so slightly when he speaks, his voice in a low tone, with his eyes flitting over to you momentarily before they’re back on the road.

it has to be intentional, he has to be aware of what he’s doing. “you’re doing this on purpose,” you mutter under your breath, willing yourself to turn away and look out the window.

“doing what on purpose?” he asks, but the mirth in his tone is evident— you can practically hear the tiny smirk that’s splayed on his lips. you’ve concluded that he’s sick in the head, that he’s playing with you right in your face. “i’m just making sure we don’t get into a crash, you baby.” and you willingly fall for it, every time.

nagi seishiro becomes clingy when it's just the two of you.

laying in your lap, while you’re absorbed in your own hobby, is one of nagi’s favorite pastimes. it keeps him close to you, but allows you both to do your own thing. sometimes, he’d take a nap while you work, one hand loosely holding onto yours in his sleep. other times, he’d play video games on his phone, making sure his volume is turned all the way down to not distract you. but most of the time, he likes to just lay there and admire you, with a barely noticeable smile on his lips.

but he becomes somewhat miffed whenever your hair falls in front of your face, blocking his (initially) flawless view of you. and it annoys him more whenever you don’t push it out of the way.

so, he decided to take it upon himself to move it for you, arm lazily stretched up to reach for you. you barely noticed it at first, so absorbed in the book that you were reading. the sensation of his fingers ghosting over your cheeks doesn’t register in your mind, and his touch is barely there. and then you feel it. his fingers are in your hair, gathering the strands on the back of his hand before he’s brushing it out of the way. it’s so gentle, the way he locks your hair behind your ear, and the way his hand lingers a little longer on your skin after. his fingers then travel from your ear to your jawline, finger lightly tracing the side of your jaw, and it makes you curl in on yourself at the feeling. (it tickles, but also oddly comforting.) and then, he’s pulling his arm back down to reach for your wrist instead, fingers wrapping around it.

your skin is tingling, and the surface of your skin feels warm— taken aback by the sudden act of affection. you glance down at him with a curious look, only to see that he’s already staring attentively at you, and you feel his hold on you tighten. “you know,” you begin, “you could’ve just asked me to do it for you.”

"you always get so lost in whatever you're doing," he mumbles slowly, his voice sounding almost whiney at the fact. his hand, the one firmly holding onto your wrist, is traveling up until it’s wiggling the book out of your hand. (you don’t miss the small furrow of his brows when you jokingly grip onto the book, before giving in and letting it fall to the side.) he takes this chance to intertwine your fingers, his larger hands completely enveloping yours. "i don't mind it, but i hate when i can’t see you."

michael kaiser holds intense eye contact with you when you're talking.

at times, you found it hard to talk to kaiser. he's constantly exuding such an intense confidence, one that's often present in his gaze, that you could never truly hold face-to-face conversations with him. you're always shying away from it, crumbling under the intensity, and he finds twisted pleasure in how flustered it makes you. the way the words always die on the tip of your tongue whenever your eyes meet, when you see that his focus is locked on you

it makes you look away, because it's the only thing you can do to escape it. but kaiser doesn't like it when you're looking away from him— he wants your attention. he wants to see you when you talk excitedly about your day.

he’ll get that attention however way he can. from where you're seated on the couch gives him quick access to you. you can feel his tattooed hand crawling up the skin of your thighs, sliding up slowly, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he goes. he stops short of the hem of your shorts, planting his hand firmly on the spot. he gives it a firm squeeze, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs— trying to get you to cave into him. “why won’t you look at me when you talk?” he’s leaning into you, invading your personal space despite the spacious couch. you can feel his breath on the shell of your ear with each word, “mein liebling, i want to see you when you talk. look at me.”

“you can listen to me talk without needing me to look at you,” you swallow, and his grip tightens ever so slightly at your words.

you're shifting awkwardly, trying to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster at the proximity, at the fact that his voice has started to sound almost pleading. almost— because he would never admit to something as desperate as pleading. it’s hard to focus when he’s this close, when he’s right there. his fingers remain on your thigh, tracing deliberate lines over your skin, and despite the way you're trying to resist, you can feel your resolve crumbling.

it’s not every day that you see someone like kaiser be on the precipice of begging for your attention. 

“i promise, i’ll stop teasing you. look—” his other hand is hooking under your chin, coaxing you to look at him. and you do— his eyes, once intense and teasing, now holds a softer and almost guilty looking gaze. “keep talking, yeah?”

oliver aiku likes to loosen his necktie with one hand after a formal event.

neckties are the worst, an opinion oliver will stand by ‘til the end of time. he absolutely despises having to put one on for formal events, and he’ll do his best to charm his way out of having to wear one. it never works, so the second he puts it on, he’s already thinking of the moment he gets to pull it off of himself. he doesn’t think much of it when he does it— one finger looping in the space between his neck and necktie, and he’s pulling at it without care.

but recently, he’s started to notice how intently you’d been staring each time he did it.

oliver’s got a keen-eye; not even the smallest thing can get past him. he drinks in the sight of you when he does it, eyes fixed on you, and taking joy in the fact that you don’t even seem to notice. you’re too busy being fixated on his hand, and the way the vein on his hand becomes prominent when he flexes it to pull, or the way his fingers seem to play around with the fabric. your eyes are so sharp, but somehow so unfocused, all at the same time. he loves how it gets you worked up.

it’s entertaining, so he takes it up a notch.

he drags his fingers, slowly, down to the first button of his shirt. and then he’s unbuttoning it with one hand, putting in extra effort in exposing his collarbones. he can’t fight the grin that makes its way to his lips, at your reaction— your eyes are widening, and he can visibly see you gulp at the sight. and then your eyes are shooting up to meet his, and his grin becomes impossibly wider.

“like what you see?” the teasing and flirtatious lilt in his voice is unmistakable, and you can’t help but draw your eyes back down to where his hand is twirling the tie around his fingers. he makes you tick, but he’s also so attractive, and you hate that he can easily make you blush with his words.

“you wish.” you choose to look away with a scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “it’s gonna take more than that.” that makes him oddly excited, brows raising in mild surprise, and you honestly should’ve known better. it’s like you’re offering up a new challenge to him, and he gladly accepts.

oliver still hates neckties; that’s an opinion that will never change. he still looks forward to the second he gets to pull it off. except now, he gets to play a little game with you while he does it.

yukimiya kenyu keeps a hand on your back at all times, in public.

it’s a habit formed purely from the fact that the streets of shibuya have the tendency to become really crowded, and yukimiya hates it when you get separated from him in such a crowd. he likes it when you’re right by his side— he can keep a close eye on you at all times and protect you from getting pushed around. and originally, it started off with holding your hands. it was fine during the colder seasons, providing the two of you with extra warmth. but you had both quickly realized that it could become quite uncomfortable during summer, making your hands all sweaty and sticky.

so he experimented. he let his arm drop from your shoulders to the small of your back, his palm hovering over your skin, initially unsure of how you would react.

“is this okay?” he would lean down to whisper in your ear, and his voice was so gentle and so concerned about you. even when he was the one getting shoved around by the crowd, with people constantly running into the sides of his shoulders, he was still only thinking about you. you and your comfort. “tell me if this is uncomfortable, and i’ll figure something else out. okay?”

it made you shiver— you felt a heat crawl up your spine, and your stomach was immediately fluttering with butterflies.

you nod, “no, this is okay.” more than okay, actually, but you keep that to yourself. “thank you for asking.” he flashes you one of his pretty smiles, and he leans up to look straight ahead in the crowd again. but this time, his touch is more present— his palm is now firmly planted onto your skin, and he’s actively weaving you through the crowded streets.

whenever someone would get too close to you, or if he anticipates that someone is about to crash into you, his hand would travel to the side of your waist. and yukimiya grips on it, pulling your body flush against his side, effectively pulling you out of the way. “sorry,” he’ll whisper an apology, not having intended to hold you so tightly. his hands will go right back to where they initially were, not without trailing his fingers on the way back, leaving sparks tingling across your skin where he touched. “did i hurt you?”

“no, i’m fine,” you can keep your hand there, you almost tell him. it drives you insane that everything he does is unintentional— but maybe, one day, you'll be able to tell him exactly what you’re thinking.

© rindreamery, 2024

tags. @choccorin @mininji

[misswynters]

༘⋆♡ Arcane characters reacting to having you be a vs bombshell model

featuring: vi, sevika, mel, cait, ekko, viktor and ambessa

warnings: kissing, heavy touching, implied nsfw themes

inspired by my fic XOXO w/ jinx (which is why she isn’t included)

a/n: might of went overboard with some (let me know if there any mistakes)

Sevika

Sevika leaned against the wall, her eyes sweeping over you as you entered the room, the curves of your body accentuated by the form-fitting outfit you were wearing. She didn't say anything at first, her gaze intense as if she were appraising you, testing you. "You look good," she finally said, her voice husky. "But l've got a better idea.

Want to show me just how good?" She stepped closer, her hand grazing the side of your cheek as her fingers gently trailed down your neck. "I want to see you in that lingerie of yours-the one you always wear when you want to really make an impression. The one that drives me wild," she added, her lips curling into a half-smile.

You swallowed, feeling the heat rise between you both. She didn't need to say it twice. The way her eyes burned into you told you everything.

As you slipped out of your clothes and into the requested set, she took a slow, appreciative breath. "Damn... Now that's what I'm talking about." The hunger in her eyes was unmistakable, and you could tell she was ready to claim this moment as hers.

Sevika leaned back in her chair, the low light of her quarters casting sharp shadows across her face as her piercing gaze locked onto you. Her usually composed demeanor faltered slightly as you stepped closer, the lingerie she had insisted on seeing clinging to your figure in all the right ways. She let out a low hum of approval, her scarred lip quirking into a smirk as she rested her elbow on the armrest, her metal fingers tapping rhythmically against her knuckles.

“You’re gonna kill me one of these days, y’know that?” she drawled, her voice husky as her eyes roamed over you, lingering on every detail of the delicate lace and silk.

“You said you wanted to see it,” you teased, stepping between her legs, your confidence wavering slightly under her intense scrutiny.

Sevika’s smirk widened as she reached out, her human hand brushing over your hip while the cool metal of her prosthetic traced your thigh, sending shivers down your spine. “Didn’t think you’d actually listen,” she admitted, her tone rough but tinged with amusement. “But damn, you wear it better than I imagined.”

Her grip tightened, and in one swift motion, she pulled you onto her lap, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was all heat and hunger. Her hands roamed boldly, one sliding to your waist to pull you closer while the other cupped the back of your neck, anchoring you to her.

“You’re mine tonight,” she growled against your lips, her voice low and possessive. “Every damn inch of you.”

The tension in the air was electric, her touch igniting a fire under your skin as she kissed down your neck, her sharp teeth grazing your skin playfully. You could feel her smirk against your collarbone as her hands continued their exploration, leaving no part of you untouched.

“Sevika,” you gasped, your voice trembling as her lips and and hands sent your senses into overdrive.

She chuckled, the sound rumbling through her chest as she leaned back slightly to admire the effect she had on you. "Relax," she murmured, her thumb brushing over your cheek as her eyes softened ever so slightly. "We've got all night." And knowing who sevika is with you, you knew that she was telling the truth. It was going to be a rough night.

Vi

Vi was already leaning against the wall when you stepped off the stage, her arms crossed and a cocky grin plastered across her face. The moment she saw you in your intricate wings and delicate lingerie, she couldn't hide her pride-or the heat in her gaze.

"Damn," she drawled as you approached, her eyes shamelessly raking over you. "How am I supposed to share you with the whole world when you look like that?" Your cheeks warmed as you stepped closer, unable to keep the smile off your face. "You like it?" you teased, spinning slowly to give her the full view.

"Like it?" she repeated, pushing off the wall and closing the distance between you. Her hands found your waist, pulling you flush against her. "Babe, I love it. But now I can't stop thinking about getting you out of it." She whispered, her breath warm against your ear, the promise of more heat to come in her voice.

Before you could answer, she reached out, pulling you toward her with a strength that made your heart skip a beat. Her lips found yours, firm and passionate, a kiss that left no room for hesitation. Her hands slipped down your back, pressing you flush against her, grinding your hips together for just a moment, enough to send a thrill through both of you. Hands roaming from the soft silk of your waist to the small of your back, where she hooked her fingers over the straps of the wings.

"You're incredible up there," she murmured against your lips, her voice husky. "But I think I prefer this view with just you and me."

You laughed softly, your hands sliding up her chest and locking behind her neck. "So, no complaints about my job, then?"

She smirked, leaning down to nip at your jawline. "None. As long as I'm the only one who gets the private shows."

"Jealous much?" Her grip tightened slightly on your hips as she kissed a trail down your neck.

"Nah," she murmured, her lips brushing against your skin. "Just possessive." Your breath hitched as her hands dipped lower, her voice dropping to a whisper. "What do you say we head home? I wanna see you take this off."

Mel Merdarda

The evening air was heavy with the scent of candles and sweet perfume as you stepped into Mel Medarda’s private quarters. Her golden eyes lifted from the glass of wine in her hand, and the moment they landed on you, the room seemed to still. She was lounging on a chaise, her regal posture radiating authority, but the flicker of surprise and desire in her gaze softened her otherwise impenetrable demeanor.

“You’ve outdone yourself tonight,” she murmured, her voice like velvet, her lips curving into a knowing smile. She set her glass down and stood, her silk gown cascading around her as she crossed the room with an elegance only she could command.

Her hands reached out, brushing against the edges of your robe. Slowly, she pulled it aside to reveal the intricate lingerie beneath. The golden embroidery glimmered in the candlelight, hugging your figure perfectly. Mel’s fingers grazed your bare shoulder, her touch light but electrifying.

“You’re a vision,” she whispered, her voice dropping an octave as her lips found yours in a kiss that was both reverent and insistent. Her hands traced your waist, pulling you closer as her warmth enveloped you.

Breaking the kiss, she looked into your eyes, her smile soft yet mischievous. “Tonight, you’re not just mine to admire,” she said, her voice sultry as she led you toward the chaise. “You’re mine to worship.” And worship you, she did, with all the precision and devotion you’d come to expect from her.

Caitlyn Kiramman

Caitlyn had always been composed, but the moment you entered her bedroom, the shift in her demeanor was undeniable. She stood by the bed, her eyes never leaving you as she slowly approached.

"You're looking stunning, as always," she said softly, but there was something more to her words— something loaded with desire.

Before you could respond, she moved quickly, her hand finding the back of your neck, pulling you into a passionate kiss. Her lips were gentle at first, almost hesitant, but that hesitation faded quickly as she pinned you to the bed, her body pressing you down.

Her hands roamed, tracing the curve of your body as her lips trailed down your jaw, your neck, each kiss leaving you breathless. "You're mine now," Caitlyn murmured, her voice filled with possessiveness and longing, as she kissed you with renewed fervor.

Caitlyn's weight pressed you gently into the soft mattress as her lips moved hungrily against yours, her usually refined and composed demeanor unraveling in the privacy of her dimly lit bedroom. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a silver glow over her tousled hair and sharp features as she kissed you with an intensity that sent heat rushing through your veins.

Her hands roamed your sides, her touch firm but reverent, like she was mapping every inch of your body for the first time. As her lips left yours, you barely had a moment to catch your breath before they found their way to your jaw, then lower, to the delicate skin of your neck.

"You're incredible," Caitlyn murmured against your skin, her voice husky and filled with awe. Her hands slid under the hem of your shirt, her fingers grazing your bare skin as she drew closer, her hips flush against yours. "How did I get so lucky?"

Your breath hitched as she grabbed your wrists harder above your head with one hand. She tilted her head up, her sapphire eyes locking onto yours, a mischievous smirk tugging at her lips. "Do you want me to continue?" she asked, her tone soft but teasing as her free hand traced lazy patterns down your torso.

You nodded, unable to form words under the weight of her gaze, and she leaned down, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Good," she whispered before trailing kisses down your neck, her hand releasing your wrists to cup your cheek.

Her kisses became slower, more deliberate as she moved lower, her touch grounding and unhurried, savoring every reaction she pulled from you. You arched into her, your fingers tangling in her hair as she found the sensitive spot just below your collarbone.

"You're breathtaking," Caitlyn said softly, her voice raw with emotion as she pulled back for a moment to admire you. She leaned in again, her lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss before she smiled, her thumb stroking your cheek. "And you're mine."

It wasn't just the passion in her touches or the hunger in her kisses that left you breathless, it was the way Caitlyn held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. The quiet devotion in her every move.

Ekko

Ekko was nervously tapping his fingers against his leg as he watched you enter, his eyes wide. He'd always admired you from afar, but seeing you now in that revealing outfit-it was too much for him to handle.

"U-uh... can we... can we do a private show? Just for me?" he stammered, his cheeks flushed. His fingers fidgeted as he tried to gather the courage to ask, his voice full of a mix of excitement and nerves. You could tell he was flustered, and a smile crept onto your face. You approached him slowly, giving him a teasing wink.

"Of course," you said softly. "Just for you, Ekko." His eyes lit up, and the look of wonder on his face made your heart flutter. You moved into the center of the room, giving him a slow, sensual dance, letting the rhythm flow through you.

Every movement you made seemed to take his breath away, and when you finished, he was speechless, his eyes wide and full of admiration. "That... was amazing," he whispered. "I-I can't believe you did that for me."

Ekko leaned against the wall of the hideout, his face still flushed from your impromptu “fashion show.” His wide eyes darted between you and the floor, his words stumbling over themselves.

“I-I didn’t think you’d actually—”

“You asked for a private fashion show,” you teased, stepping closer, the soft fabric of your robe brushing against your legs. “I just delivered.”

Ekko swallowed hard, his hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually…” His voice trailed off as he gestured vaguely toward you, his fingers twitching.

“You didn’t think I’d wear something like this for you?” You tilted your head, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “You really underestimate me, Ekko.”

His gaze flickered to yours, the usual sharp confidence in his eyes softened by his clear awe. “No, it’s not that,” he muttered, his voice dropping. “I just didn’t think I deserved to see you like this.”

That caught you off guard. You stepped closer, reaching out to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against his warm skin. “Ekko,” you said softly, “you’ve done so much for me. For everyone here. You deserve a lot more than just this.”

His hand came up to cover yours, his touch steady despite his flustered demeanor. “You don’t have to do anything special for me, you know?” he murmured, his eyes searching yours. “Just… you being you is enough.”

You smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. His breath hitched, but he quickly melted into the kiss, his hands hesitantly finding your waist. The tension in the air shifted, the nervous energy giving way to something warmer, more intimate.

As your fingers threaded through his hair, Ekko pulled you closer, his grip firm but gentle. The kiss deepened, and you felt his heart pounding against yours, fast and steady like the rhythm of a drum.

When you finally pulled back, his cheeks were flushed, and his lips were slightly swollen. “You’re really trying to kill me here,” he joked breathlessly, his hands still resting on your waist.

“Not at all,” you teased, trailing a finger along his jawline. “But I do like seeing you flustered. It’s cute.”

He groaned, burying his face in your shoulder to hide his embarrassment. “You’re such a tease.”

“And you love it,” you quipped, wrapping your arms around his neck. Ekko chuckled, the sound muffled against your skin. “Yeah,” he admitted softly, his arms tightening around you. “I really do.”

The moment lingered, the hum of the hideout fading into the background as the two of you held each other. For all the chaos and danger in your lives, this was a rare moment of peace. And neither of you wanted to let it go.

Viktor

Viktor's lab was cluttered with papers and equipment, but as soon as you stepped in, the clutter seemed to disappear. All he could focus on was you. You stood before him, your usual elegance replaced by an undeniable confidence, as you slowly peeled back the layers of your clothing. Viktor's breath caught in his throat as you revealed what lay beneath. The way your eyes met his, made his pulse race.

You leaned casually against the counter, but the smirk playing on your lips betrayed how much you enjoyed his reaction.

"Well?" you teased, your voice soft yet challenging. "Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to say something?"

Viktor blinked, his lips parting as if to form words, but they didn't come. His gaze flickered downward to the lingerie you wore, all delicate lace and sheer fabric, a stark contrast to the sterile and utilitarian environment of his workspace. "You're... truly something," he finally managed, his accent curling around the words.

You tilted your head playfully. “Something good, I hope?"

He took a cautious step closer, his cane clicking softly against the floor. "You know exactly what I mean," he murmured, his voice lower now, tinged with awe. His hand reached out, hesitating for just a moment before his fingers brushed the fabric at your hips. "You've outdone yourself."

Your heart skipped at the reverence in his tone. "I thought l'd surprise you," you said softly, leaning into his touch.

"You've done more than surprise me," Viktor admitted, his golden-brown eyes locking onto yours. "You've... completely distracted me."

You chuckled, looping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. "Is that such a bad thing?"

Before he could answer, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. Viktor stiffened at first, clearly caught off guard, but then his hands found their way to your hips, hesitant yet firm. He kissed you back, slow and deliberate, as though trying to savor every moment. When you deepened the kiss, sliding your fingers into his hair, Viktor groaned softly against your lips. His grip tightened, his fingers brushing against the bare skin beneath the lace. The cool touch of his metal prosthetic sent a shiver down your spine, and he immediately stilled. "Did I hurt you?" he asked quickly, his brows furrowing in concern.

You shook your head, smiling up at him. “No. You could never hurt me."

Relief washed over his face, and his grip on you grew more confident. He leaned in again, this time guiding you backward until the edge of the counter pressed into your lower back. The hard surface contrasted sharply with the warmth of his body as he kissed you again, more fervently now.

His hand roamed upward, tracing the delicate straps on your shoulder before cupping your jaw, tilting your face so he could explore the curve of your neck.

You gasped as his lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

"I have a pretty good idea," you teased, your hands slipping under his shirt to trace the lines of his torso.

He groaned again, his lips finding yours once more. The lab faded away, the hum of the equipment replaced by the sound of your shared breaths and the soft clink of his cane as he shifted to pull you impossibly closer.

For once, Viktor allowed himself to forget his work, his experiments, and the ever-looming weight of his ambition. In this moment, all that mattered was you-and the way you made him feel alive.

Ambessa Merdarda

Ambessa reclined back in her chair, her gaze heavy and consuming as you finished your slow, deliberate movements across the room. The rich velvet curtains framing her private quarters swayed slightly with the night's breeze, though the air felt anything but cold under her watchful eyes. You stood before her in the intricate lingerie she had requested, the delicate pink fabric accentuating every curve of your body in the flickering firelight.

Her lips parted slightly, and for a moment, the powerful general seemed at a loss for words, a rare vulnerability slipping through her commanding exterior. At nearly twice your height and with shoulders that could carry entire armies, Ambessa always made you feel small in the best way. A stark contrast that clearly did something to her now as her gaze grew darker.

"You've outdone yourself," she finally said, her voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. "I knew you'd be breathtaking, but this..." Her words trailed off as her golden eyes roamed over you. Feeling emboldened, you tilted your head with a playful smile. "Is it everything you imagined, General?" you teased, your voice soft yet sultry.

Ambessa smirked, the slight twitch of her lips only emphasizing her predatory demeanor. "More," she admitted, rising from her chair with a deliberate slowness that made her seem even larger. She approached with the precision of a lion stalking prey, her heavy boots clicking against the polished wood floor. When she stood before you, the top of your head barely reached her chest.

Her broad shoulders eclipsed the firelight behind her, casting you in her shadow as she placed her massive hands on your hips. She pulled you forward effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing to her, the size of her hands spanning nearly your entire waist.

"You've got my attention," she murmured, her voice rumbling against your smaller frame as her fingers traced the delicate diamond straps of your lingerie. Looping it around her fingers, letting it fall off your shoulder.

"Now, what will you do with it?" Your breath hitched as her lips brushed the shell of your ear, her warm breath fanning your skin and sending a shiver down your spine. Her hands roamed your body, the stark contrast of her rough, calloused touch against the soft silk of your lingerie making you tremble.

"Ambessa," you whispered, your voice trembling as her kisses moved lower, trailing along your neck and collarbone with an intensity that left you breathless.

She chuckled softly, her hands tightening their grip on your waist, her fingers brushing against your lower back as she pulled you impossibly closer. The difference in your size only seemed to spur her on, her gaze filled with an almost possessive hunger as she loomed over you. "Careful," she teased, her tone a mix of amusement and warning. "I might start thinking you enjoy being at my mercy."

Then ambessa made her way back to her chair, sitting down while manspreading, with her arms laying of the arm rest. Looking at you with a feverish expression. "Come here," she commanded softly, her voice velvet. "Since you're looking even more irresistible than usual."

You hesitated for just a moment, the air thick with unspoken desires, before walking towards her.

"Dance for me, darling," Ambessa purred, eyes darkened with intent. "Let me see you move."

With a small smirk, you began to dance, slow and seductive, your body swaying to an invisible rhythm. Her gaze followed every movement, and you could feel her heat from across the room.

As you moved closer to her, her hands caught your waist, pulling you in for a slow, deliberate kiss. "You going to kill me with the way you move," she murmured against your lips, and you couldn't help but smile at her words, feeling the tension between you both become even more palpable. “How about you use those skills for a different purpose.”

taglist: @iwanttoberich420 @pluhhbabyy

banners: @anitalenia

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (1/2) | sharing the cookie

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : your f1 boyfriend agrees to try the viral cookie challenge with your toddler… only to be hilariously betrayed (inspo: tiktok - click for reference)

୨ৎ : genre : comedy ୨ৎ : word count : 1792

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : this tiktok trend had me dying and then lawson and hadjar did it with their reserve driver im hollering T-T - also i am so so so sorry for missing my update for friday rip... but its okay ill be back on schedule fr (also the first part will now include lando and oscar because in part two i will be adding isack hadjar and liam lawson cus they were requested to be added and i just cant say no considering they are also on the grid >.<)

ʚ・max verstappen

"come on," you said, holding up the phone. "it's just a tiktok. she gets two cookies, you act like you didn’t get any, and we see if she shares.”

max crossed his arms. "she’s two. she doesn’t even share her toys with me."

"exactly," you grinned. "that’s why it’s funny."

he sighed dramatically. "fine. but if she betrays me, i’m eating both next time."

you set up the camera. max sat cross-legged on the living room floor, your daughter bouncing excitedly in front of him. you handed her two cookies. max? none.

"papa doesn’t get one?" she asked, blinking up at him.

max pouted like he was a contestant on survivor. "nope. they only gave you cookies."

she blinked again. looked at both cookies. looked at him.

and then.

she. ate. both.

BACK TO BACK.

max’s jaw dropped. "are you serious?!"

your daughter just licked the crumbs from her fingers and smiled. "yummy!"

you couldn’t stop laughing behind the camera.

max dramatically flopped back onto the carpet like he'd just lost a world championship.

"i gave her life. and she gave me nothing."

“she’s literally two,” you laughed.

"two ruthless," he corrected.

later that night, he snuck her another cookie while she sat in his lap, still chewing like she ran the place.

“you gonna share this one?” he asked hopefully.

she nodded, broke it in half… and gave both pieces to the dog.

max gasped. “this is targeted.”

you? filming from the corner, crying laughing.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

"just act like you don’t have any,” you whispered as you handed your daughter two cookies and lewis none.

he raised an eyebrow. "she always shares with me."

"alright then, let’s put that to the test," you grinned, hitting record.

lewis sat cross-legged on the rug, smiling softly at his daughter as she waddled over with a cookie in each tiny hand. she plopped down in front of him, cradling her cookies like they were ancient treasures.

“oh wow,” lewis said, peering at her plate. “they didn’t give me any…”

she blinked. then blinked again. the gears in her brain visibly turned.

and then—she took the biggest bite possible from one cookie, stared him down, and said through a full mouth, “that sucks.”

your hand flew to your mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. lewis sat there, stunned.

“did you just—”

she held up a tiny finger. “i need both. for balance.” (balance. you nearly dropped the phone.)

lewis tried not to laugh, but it cracked out of him anyway. “wow. that’s cold, little miss.”

“like you when i take your hoodie,” you chimed in from behind the camera.

“she’s my daughter alright,” lewis muttered, dramatically falling back into the pillows like he’d just been betrayed by his own bloodline. “i’m retiring from parenting,” lewis sighed.

ʚ・george russell

george was suspicious from the moment you handed him zero cookies.

“it’s a tiktok trend,” you whispered. “just pretend it’s normal. let’s see what he does.”

your son plopped down next to george, cradling his two little cookies like they were made of gold. he blinked at his dad. george gave him a soft smile and the most tragic sigh you’d ever heard.

“wow. i didn’t get one,” george said, all british melancholy. “guess i’ll just sit here… cookieless.”

his son looked at him.

then looked at the cookies.

then looked back at him.

and took a very slow bite, still holding eye contact.

george blinked. “right. okay. that’s… noted.”

he cleared his throat, visibly trying to stay composed. “are you sure you don’t want to share one with your dear father? the man who changes your nappies?”

another bite.

then your son tilted his head and said, “you can have one… if you say please.”

george’s jaw dropped. “are you—? i taught you that word!”

you had to cover your mouth to keep from snorting. george held his hand out, now looking genuinely betrayed.

“please,” he said slowly, dramatically. “may i have one cookie?”

your son stared at the remaining half of his cookie… and shoved it in his own mouth. then nodded. “you said please!”

george looked directly at the camera like he was on the office. “this is a test. i’m being tested.”

five minutes later, george was spotted making a second batch of cookies with your son sitting proudly on the counter beside him.

“because we believe in manners and equality in this household,” he muttered, flour on his shirt.

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos sat on the rug as your daughter waddled in with two chocolate chip cookies and the world’s biggest smile. her curls bounced with every step, and carlos was already melting before the challenge even began.

“hola, princesa,” he cooed, arms out.

she plopped down next to him and immediately held both cookies to her chest.

“oh, you got two?” he asked, pretending to pout. “they didn’t give any to papa.”

your daughter paused.

she stared at the cookies.

then stared at him.

then without a single ounce of hesitation, she picked up the bigger cookie and gently placed it in carlos’ hand.

“here, papa,” she said sweetly. “you can have mine.”

carlos blinked. like, literally stunned into silence.

“you’re giving me this one?” he asked, glancing down at the cookie like it was made of diamonds. “but it’s the bigger one.”

she just nodded and leaned into his chest with the other cookie in her hand. “because i love you big.”

you gasped behind the camera.

carlos’s entire soul left his body. “ay dios mío. you’re going to make me cry on tiktok.”

he immediately scooped her into his lap and kissed her cheek a thousand times while she giggled into her cookie.

“te amo, mi corazón,” he whispered. “you’re the best part of my life.”

then he looked at the camera and pointed. “you owe her a bakery.”

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles was already sitting on the rug, legs crossed, smiling like he had no idea what was coming. (he did. you prepped him. but he was ready to be dramatic.)

when she walked over and sat down with her cookies, he gasped.

“they gave you two?!” he said, eyes wide. “and none for me?” he held his hands up like he was being robbed. “nothing? pas un seul?”

your daughter blinked, looked down at her plate… then back up at him. then she frowned.

“…that’s not fair,” she whispered, clearly distressed.

you could almost hear the little gears turning in her brain. she looked between the cookies like she was about to do intense mathematical calculations.

charles tilted his head, still acting sad. “it’s okay. you don’t have to share. i’ll just… starve.”

“papa,” she gasped. “no starving!” then — and this was the most leclerc moment — she picked up one cookie and broke it perfectly in half like it was a fine art.

she handed him one full cookie… and then added half of the other one.

“there,” she said seriously. “now you have un et demi.”

charles looked at the cookie halves in his hands like he’d just been gifted the crown jewels.

“you gave me more than one?” he asked, visibly moved. “are you sure?”

she nodded proudly. “because i’m smart.”

you nearly dropped the phone from trying not to wheeze.

charles pulled her into his lap and kissed the top of her head, murmuring, “you are so smart, mon amour. and kind. i will never forget this act of generosity.”

she grinned. “you owe me a cookie later.”

charles blinked. “…fair.”

ʚ・lando norris

“this is going to be so easy,” lando whispered as you handed his child two cookies and him none.

you raised a brow. “confident.”

he flashed you a grin. “they’re obsessed with me. i’m definitely getting one.”

you pressed record.

lando sat down on the floor, stretching his legs out, watching as your toddler toddled over like they were on a very serious cookie delivery mission. two chocolate chip cookies, one in each fist. determined eyes. crumbs already forming and not a bite had been taken.

“those look so good,” lando said, dramatically clutching his chest. “but… they didn’t give me any. that’s a bit sad, huh?”

your child blinked at him. looked at the cookies. then back at him.

then smiled.

“oh, dada,” they said sweetly, holding up one cookie… only to immediately lick it and take the tiniest nibble ever.

lando stared. “did you just—?”

they held out the now-slightly-soggy cookie. “you can have this one.” big proud grin.

lando, who would’ve accepted literal dirt from this kid, took it with wide eyes. “wow… thank you… so much.”

then, as he brought it to his mouth, they shrieked:

“WAIT! NOT THAT ONE! THAT WAS MINE!”

they snatched it back. both cookies now secured.

lando looked into the camera like he was betrayed by his own flesh and blood. “what just happened to me?”

you nearly dropped the phone from laughing. “you got hustled by a toddler.”

“she literally baited me,” he muttered. “i respect it.”

later, he brought out a secret third cookie from the kitchen.

your toddler gasped. “dada! where’d you get that?!”

he winked. “the real cookie challenge is knowing where we hide the backups.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

“i really don’t think they’ll give me one,” oscar whispered as you handed your toddler two cookies and him none.

you raised an eyebrow. “why?”

he shrugged. “they like sharing with you more. they say i’m too quiet.”

you stifled a laugh and hit record.

oscar sat down on the rug, legs folded neatly, as your toddler waddled over proudly — one cookie in each chubby hand, already taking careful little bites out of the edges.

“oh,” oscar said softly. “they gave you two cookies?”

his kid blinked, wide-eyed. “yeah!”

oscar smiled. “wow. i didn’t get any…”

there was a beat of silence. your toddler looked at their cookies. then at oscar.

then back at the cookies.

then very slowly, they scooted closer, placed one cookie in his lap… and gently patted his knee.

“you can have this one. because i love you and i don’t want you to feel sad.”

oscar literally froze. like system shut down. the only movement was the slow widening of his eyes.

“wait,” he whispered, “are you trying to make me cry?”

your toddler beamed. “don’t cry! eat!”

you had to hide behind the kitchen counter to keep from audibly sobbing.

oscar looked straight at the camera, voice half-choked. “i wasn’t emotionally prepared for this challenge.”

he reached over, pulled them gently into his lap, and kissed the top of their head. “you’re too good for this world.”

later, you found the uneaten cookie in the fridge with a note (scribbled by oscar) taped to it:

“for my favourite teammate.”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[jinwoosungs]

05/04/25; 10:25pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when you are their favorite love interest ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel, caleb

notes: i know that this has been done before, but this is just my own take on this fun thought, and i hope you readers give this a chance, too (⺣◡⺣)♡

when sylus first heard of this new game that was celebrating its day one launch, admittedly, the onychinus leader had zero interest in it-

that is, until a particular trailer was showcased introducing a rather enticing love interest-

you.

to say sylus was hooked would be a complete understatement. within seconds of your trailer’s release, sylus downloaded the game and got to work. he did not hold back when it came to his spendings, already adding in the details of his sleek black credit card before customizing his mc. after making his mc look as close to him as possible, he chooses you to be his partner while running through the main storyline.

thanks to his endless amount of wealth, he manages to obtain all of your five star cards that were available in game, maxing out all of your memory upgrades while unlocking all of your secret time audios in just a few week’s time. and despite how seductive and alluring you were during those intimate audios, sylus’s favorite card of yours happened to be one of the sweetest memories, with you taking a walk with his mc in the snow.

to say he was enamored with you would simply scratch the surface of his feelings for you, for this man was entirely devoted to you. the story of your life-

the trials and tribulations that you faced gave sylus the strength to continue on with his life. after a particular grueling day working as a leader of a conglomerate, he enjoys laying in bed while replaying his favorite memories with you before falling asleep with your audios playing in the background.

even though many would find his feelings for you, a mere fictional character, to be silly (and maybe a little cringey) sylus doesn’t give a damn-

for he will always bask in the feelings of peace you give him.

admittedly, zayne only downloaded this popular new game after his coworkers convinced him to. during his lunch breaks, he finds himself opening the app to go through the main storyline while being drawn to one of the main love interests-

you.

there was a subtle beauty that he could see from you, with your quiet yet headstrong nature making him crack a tiny smile while he read through the storyline. after finishing the main branch, zayne puts in some time (and some much needed funds) to obtain your five star memories.

yet perhaps what zayne enjoyed more than your memories were the quality time feature that the game had. he had managed to raise your affinity to the mid 50s level and enjoyed watching you study or work with him. even though he knew that you were a character made of pixels, zayne couldn’t help but let his fondness for you grow.

even as he was doing his own paperwork, zayne couldn’t help but sneak glances at you, only to feel his heart clench when you stare back at him with a sweet smile on your face. the cardiac surgeon would quickly look away from you, cheeks dyed a faint rosy hue as his lips were unconsciously tilted up in a smile that lasts.

being a bit of a passionate gamer in linkon, xavier was one of the few players that was able to play the game during its beta phase before the official launch date.

and the reason why he signed up to be one of the first couple of hundred players to test out this new game?

why, it’s because of you, of course!

xavier had come across your trailer during an announcement for your game, and he was completely hooked on your strength and overall aesthetic. when the developers announced that they would allow a handful of players to test out their game, xavier was the first to put his name on the list-

and by some stroke of luck, he manages to obtain your game roughly 6 months before its official release. despite having some minor hiccups with loading screens and a few glitches, xavier thoroughly enjoyed the game while playing through some chapters of the main storyline.

yet what the young hunter really excelled at was level grinding you, his favorite girl. he hates seeing you get hurt, so he will spend a decent amount of his money getting as many of your cards that he could (bonus points if he manages to obtain your myth pair!)

xavier would be the first to clear out any fighting stages with how powerful you are thanks to his careful dedication to you, and when xavier finds out he can keep his progress with you even after the game’s official release, he couldn’t be any happier-

because in xavier’s eyes, it was you and him against the world.

rafayel would be an obnoxious player, simply going through the motions of the main storyline to unlock certain outfits before showing you off with his own mc in hundreds of photo shoots.

being an artist at heart, when he first met your character in the game, rafayel had hearts in his eyes for you alone as he matches his mc’s aesthetic with your own. he loves going on dates with you, finding enjoyment in how you struggled to get the plushies he wanted at the claw machines, or how you would always pout at him when he beats you at kitty cards.

rafayel would also be dedicated to you, managing to get to devotion with you thanks to his own funding that he put in your game. the moment you shyly hand him a box with his engagement ring, the young artist would be over the moon!

he enjoys interacting with you, often teasing you by poking you through his phone’s screen. rafayel swears that he lives to see your cheeks puffed out in a pout while turning your back on him. just seeing all of your cute reactions makes rafayel grin like an absolute fool.

and truly, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

caleb was a f2p player, but had the worst luck when it came to pulling for your cards. 99% of the times, he would pull a different love interest, or lose to a 50/50 to one of your five star memories that he really wanted.

however, him being a f2p player went down the drain when your springtime date banner was announced-

and he was hooked on your beauty and how gorgeously soft you looked in your sundress. due to how lovely you looked, caleb swore that he would do anything to obtain this precious memory. during his day off, he focused his entire attention on getting your banner, using his card to buy the needed pulls to obtain that precious memory.

shockingly enough, you came home to him just a mere thirty pulls later, with caleb nearly jumping for joy when he gets your card. not wasting another second, he plays the date while basking in your beautiful smile. during the memory, caleb couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous of his mc-

because why was his mc able to touch and hold you, while caleb was left feeling like a third wheel?

but he digresses.

shoving down his unreasonable feelings of envy, he enjoys the tranquil kiss scene, his heart melting at the sight of you falling into his mc’s arms before pressing your lips against his.

with a stupid smile on his face, he finishes reading through the memory of your springtime date before spending the flowers he saved up to purchase the exact sundress you had worn during the date.

as he interacts with you, cooing at his phone’s screen about how pretty you were, caleb realized that you were worth every penny.

end notes: hehehe finally some more fluff from yours truly

(⺣◡⺣)♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[doumadono]

AMORIA - act I

Warnings: finger fucking, humiliation, spanking, threesome, double pu**y penetration, oral (m & f receiving), squirting, asphyxiation, Dabi being Dabi, creampie, unprotected s*x, Shiggy is the boss, spit is everywhere, so is cum, more than 13k words (8k words for smut itself - you've been warned!), alcohol usage, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fem!reader

Synopsis: after a breakup, you found yourself at a club infamous for being frequented by villains, desperate to drown out all the bad memories. That’s where you encountered two of the most powerful villains — Shigaraki Tomura and Todoroki Touya, formerly known as Dabi. Upon discovering and testing your quirk, an idea began to take root in Tomura’s mind. And naturally, why stop there? Why not test your other talents too?

AMORIA - act II (to be added) AMORIA - playlist MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART III MAIN M.LIST

Waking up felt like crawling through fog, each blink a struggle against the dim, dizzy haze leftover from last night’s drinks. Blurred flashes came and went, half-formed memories that made little sense. The heaviness settled in slowly, the realization that this wasn’t your bed striking a second before something shifted against your waist. 

A scarred arm draped loosely around your waist, its calloused fingers brushing your bare skin with a possessive kind of laziness, the rough pads of fingers brushing over the curve of your abdomen. Breath, hot and slow, fanned across your nape with each rise and fall of the man's chest. Dabi lay pressed against you, his white hair a tousled mess that grazed your shoulder, his sharp features softened just enough by sleep to make you forget, for a moment, how dangerous he really was. Even in sleep, he moved with a casual possessiveness, shifting closer, pressing his frame firmly against your back, grinding his slack cock against your bare ass from time to time. The warmth radiating from Todoroki felt alive, almost searing, as though the man behind you burned hotter than anything should.

The pounding in your skull throbbed with each inhale, a dizzying reminder of just how much you’d had to drink last night. The haze hadn’t lifted yet, your thoughts murky, slippery, and impossible to pin down. Bracing yourself, you blinked slowly, inhaling through parted lips as the sheer weight of his body pressed you further into the mattress. Shifting slightly, you turned, trying not to jolt yourself awake too quickly, and that’s when you saw him.

Tomura was sprawled out on your left, his wiry frame half-splayed across the mattress. His chest rose slowly, bare and warm. One hand was tucked under his head, elbow bent lazily, while the other rested on your hip. He still wore his protective glove. If he hadn’t, you knew what a single slip might mean.

A soft sound escaped your lips - something between a gasp and a whimper - as you shifted your legs, and that’s when you felt it. The unmistakable slickness between your thighs, sticky, cold and raw, made you freeze. The memories slammed into you like a tidal wave, fragments of last night piecing themselves together.

Hands - scarred, rough, and demanding - roaming over your plushy skin, leaving trails of bruises in their wake. Mouths pressed against yours, against your neck, your chest, your thighs, your pussy, taking and claiming every inch of you. The sound of low voices, rasping commands and dark praises that made your body shudder. Your skin still felt branded, marked by their touch, every nerve tingling as if it were reliving the night in flashes. 

Shifting your hips again, the motion earned another quiet sound that you couldn’t suppress, and the arm wrapped around your waist tightened slightly in response. Dabi stirred, a low, guttural hum rumbling in his chest, his lips brushing faintly against the curve of your shoulder. His fingers flexed against your abdomen, pulling you closer with a lazy dominance that sent a shiver racing down your spine. “Don’t start squirming unless you’re ready for round two,” came his voice, gravelly with sleep but still laced with that dark, teasing edge. He didn’t even open his eyes, his body already responding to the subtle movements of yours, hips rolling just enough to remind you exactly how tangled the three of you had been hours before.

On your other side, Tomura’s gloved fingers pressed lightly into your hip, his red eyes cracking open just enough to watch you through the veil of his lashes. A voice, dark and dripping with mockery, cut through the haze. "Oh, sweet thing, you’re finally awake.” Shigaraki slowly moved his hand up your body, caressing the curve of your waist and reaching your chin in the end. His thumb and index finger clamped around your chin, firm and unyielding, tilting your head with a deliberate force that left no room for resistance. "What a perfect morning for us, don’t you think, Dabi? I can’t fucking wait to ruin that pretty pussy of hers all over again. And don’t you even think about leaving us, Amoria. You’re ours, now and forever."

The club pulsed with heavy bass, each beat reverberating in your chest, and a thick haze of smoke clung to the air, a cocktail of cigarettes, weed, and cheap perfume mixing with the ever-present burn of alcohol. It was the kind of place you were warned to avoid, especially alone - one of those places where villains went to disappear, blend into the night like smoke. 

But after tonight? Warnings didn’t mean much. The sting of a fresh breakup had driven you straight into the dark, to the kind of place that would swallow up your thoughts and leave you numb. No one you knew would set foot here, especially alone. The criminals and castaways who haunted these walls weren’t just rumors; they were way too real. But right now, you didn’t care. 

Perched at the bar with one leg hooked over the other, a tight red dress hugging your figure, and a jet-black bag draped over your shoulder, you sipped slowly on something the bartender had called a Blood Moon. A wicked blend of dark rum, cherry liqueur, and a touch of grenadine, it tasted like rebellion in a glass, something that burned on the way down but left just enough sweetness behind to make you want more.

The air grew heavier, thick with tension, and it took you a minute to notice why. 

High above on the VIP floor, two figures lounged in shadows. But it wasn’t the distance that made them unapproachable - it was who they were, and the weight of what they carried. They noticed you, of course. It was impossible not to feel their stares, the way they sized you up, cutting through the smoky air like blades. 

Shigaraki stood above, leaning against the steel railing of the VIP lounge, his posture loose and almost bored. Dressed in a sleek, dark suit that clung to his wiry frame, he seemed a creature entirely his own, something both sharp and unsettling, his presence a chill running through the pulse of the club. His hands, resting on the railing, wore thin black gloves over two fingers on each hand - a careful precaution, one you didn’t want to dwell on. The other fingers tapped rhythmically against the metal, a steady, almost taunting beat.

Next to him, more menace than man, lounged Touya Todoroki - Dabi, though that name was practically useless now. His hair, white as death, fell messily over his eyes, but his gaze - heavy-lidded, cerulean gaze, bored directly into you. It was the kind of stare that looked through you, stripping you bare and seeing every lie, every flaw. Like he’d already decided exactly what to do with you. His white hair was catching the colored lights and casting strange shadows across his face. He wasn’t wearing a suit - of course he wasn’t. His choice of attire was as casual as it was provocative: a black, fitted, buttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal a mess of scars trailing up his forearms, and ripped jeans that sat low on his hips, held up by nothing more than a thick, black, leather belt. 

Shigaraki’s eyes were assessing you as though deciding what to do with a curiosity he hadn’t planned on. Dabi’s smirk had a different edge - sharper, darker, a look that made your pulse spike in ways you’d never admit out loud. Whatever this was, it wasn’t simple curiosity.

There was no reason to be here. Nothing logical, anyway. The breakup had left you restless, something bitter and rebellious churning in your chest. Revenge on your ex? Maybe. A flirtation with something you shouldn’t have? Probably. Or maybe it was just the need to feel alive, if only for a night, surrounded by people who understood what it meant to live outside the law.

The bartender slid another drink in front of you - a Blow Job. Confused, you looked up. “I didn’t order this.”

He jerked his thumb toward the bar, where Dabi now stood, ordering a fresh bottle of whiskey. His eyes, that unmistakable blue, were locked on you. He didn’t bother looking away, just let his eyes roam over your body, slowly, deliberately, with an intensity that was anything but polite.

“Guess he did,” the bartender shrugged, turning away to tend to someone else.

Dabi raised his drink in your direction, smirk tugging at his scarred mouth, a silent invitation - or maybe a dare.

Dabi didn’t move at first, leaning casually against the bar, his smirk sharp as a knife. The bottle of whiskey dangled loosely from one hand, the other lifting his glass to his lips, eyes never leaving you. His gaze was a slow drag, deliberate, assessing. “Why don’t you come join us upstairs, princess?” His voice was low, gravelly, and loud enough to cut through the music. There was no question in the way he said it - more an invitation wrapped in a command, laced with an edge that made it clear he didn’t hear no very often.

Tilting your head, you gave him a once-over, matching his intensity with your own. “Not interested,” you said, your tone sharp, controlled. “I’m fine right here.”

The smirk widened, and he let out a short, amused laugh. “Yeah?” He leaned closer, setting the glass down on the bar with a sharp clink. “I don’t think you know what you’re turning down, sweetheart.”

Something in the way he said it sent a flicker of heat through you, but you held your ground, your leg crossing over the other as you turned back to your drink. “I’ve got all the excitement I need down here,” you said dryly, lifting your glass with a raised brow.

Dabi didn’t back off. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence radiating warmth that felt too intimate, too deliberate. He dipped his head slightly, his breath brushing your ear as he spoke, low and dangerous. “You shouldn’t play games with people like us. We don’t do soft. We don’t do fair.”

He wasn’t bluffing, and you knew it.

Straightening up, he looked at you again, letting his hand trail along the bar as he stepped back. “But if you’re really not interested…” His shrug was slow, his smirk still carved onto his face as though he knew exactly how this would end. “Suit yourself.”

You hated how your pulse quickened, hated the way the challenge lingered in the air between you. The words don’t do soft repeated in your head, pulling at the threads of your resolve. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the week you’d had, but before you could stop yourself, your feet were moving, heels clicking against the marble floor as you followed him.

He didn’t even check to see if you were coming. The bastard already knew.

The staircase was tucked into the far corner, shadowed and out of sight of most of the club. 

Dabi’s shoulders led the way, the bottle swinging lazily in his grip as if he didn’t care that every eye on the dancefloor followed his movements. The music faded slightly as you ascended, but the air grew heavier, thicker, as though the space above carried its own gravity.

The VIP lounge was dimly lit, the low, amber light reflecting off a sleek, black leather couch where Shigaraki sat sprawled out, one leg hooked lazily over the other. His white hair fell messily over his forehead, a cigarette dangling between two fingers as he exhaled a slow plume of smoke. A lowball glass sat in his other hand, whiskey and ice swirling in lazy circles as he tilted it absentmindedly. His red eyes flicked up as you entered, sharp and cutting, taking you in with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

“Finally brought her up, huh?” His voice was smooth but tinged with that unmistakable edge of boredom, like he couldn’t care less, yet his eyes told a different story. They lingered on you a beat too long, assessing, weighing, before he took another drag from his cigarette.

Dabi shrugged, tossing himself into the opposite end of the couch. “Wasn’t easy,” he said, his smirk never wavering. “She’s got a mouth on her.”

Shigaraki’s lips twitched into something close to a grin, a humorless thing that didn’t reach his eyes. “Good. It’ll make things more interesting.”

You stood at the edge of the room, every instinct screaming at you to leave, but the weight of their gazes pinned you in place. 

Dabi poured a generous amount of whiskey into his glass, then tilted the bottle toward the empty one next to Shigaraki’s. He didn’t ask if you wanted a drink; he poured you one anyway. “Sit,” Dabi growled, nodding toward the space between them on the couch, his voice casual, but there was a command in it that left no room for argument.

Shigaraki’s hand rested on the back of the couch, fingers drumming slowly against the leather as he watched you, waiting. “Unless you’re scared,” the white haired man said, his voice soft, almost mocking, a challenge hanging on every syllable.

Something in your chest tightened. Pride or stubbornness - maybe both - kept your feet moving until you lowered yourself onto the couch, your body painfully aware of the heat radiating from both sides. The glass of whiskey was pressed into your hand, Dabi’s long fingers brushing against yours as he handed it over.

“Good girl,” the leader of the League of Villains murmured, leaning back into the couch with a smirk that promised nothing about tonight would be soft.

The leather couch felt sinfully soft beneath you. You cradled the glass of whiskey in your hands. 

The air in the room thickened like tar, suffocating and inescapable.

Shigaraki tilted his head, studying you with the same detached curiosity as a predator playing with its prey. His crimson gaze burned with an intensity that seemed to peel back your skin, exposing something raw and vulnerable beneath.

Your throat felt dry despite the whiskey still warming your hand. Steeling your nerves, you met his gaze head-on. “You’re the leader, right?” Your voice was steady, though you hated how breathless it sounded. “Why would someone like you want someone like me around?”

Shigaraki’s lips curled slowly, something far too knowing glimmering in his eyes. “Someone like you?” he repeated, voice smooth, low, and entirely dangerous. “You underestimate yourself.”

He leaned forward, resting his forearm on his knee, letting his fingers hang loosely, inches from where your thigh rested against the couch. Shigaraki chuckled, a low, dry sound that barely stirred the air. “Let’s say I’m a connoisseur of beauty.” His words were slow, deliberate. “And you,” he continued, letting his eyes drag down your frame in a way that felt like a physical touch, “look exquisite in that dress.”

Dabi snorted from the other end of the couch, his smirk widening as he poured himself another drink. “Connoisseur of beauty,” he repeated mockingly, shaking his head. “You’re so full of pretentious shit, boss.”

Shigaraki didn’t so much as glance at him, his focus locked entirely on you. 

Heat bloomed in your cheeks despite yourself, and you took a longer sip of your drink, hoping it might disguise the faint blush. 

Shigaraki noticed, of course — he didn’t miss much, apparently. His grin widened, a touch of smugness slipping into his expression.

"You're blushing, doll," Dabi pointed out bluntly, his voice dripping with mockery. "That’s fucking adorable."

Shigaraki, clearly entertained, shifted closer. His partially gloved hand reached out, resting lightly on your knee. "So," he drawled, his voice conversational, as though he weren’t sitting far too close for comfort, "what’s someone like you doing in a place like this? This isn’t exactly the scene for someone so soft."

You glanced at him, the faintest flicker of a challenge in your eyes. "What makes you think I’m soft?"

Shigaraki’s lips twitched into a smirk. "You don’t exactly scream villain." He tilted his head, studying you. "But you’ve got an edge. Something’s brought you here. What is it?"

The question lingered, heavy and probing. 

You took a sip of the whiskey, its burn cutting through your nerves as you turned your attention to the man sprawled across from you. You exhaled, feeling the whiskey’s fire loosen your tongue. “My boyfriend cheated on me,” you confessed, bitter and sharp. “With someone I thought was my friend.” You exhaled slowly, setting your glass on the table as you straightened your shoulders. "So, here I am. Figured I might as well see how the other side lives."

Dabi let out a low, wry whistle. "Oh, the little doll has been hurt? How sad must be your life ever since!”

"Cheaters are the worst," Tomura stated matter-of-factly. "But that doesn’t explain why you’d come here of all places. This club isn’t exactly known for its wholesome clientele."

You shrugged, feeling the tension in the room shift slightly. "Maybe I wanted to see if there was anyone left in the world worse than him."

Dabi laughed, a dry, humorless sound that made the corners of his scarred mouth twist upward. 

"Oh, sweetheart," Shigaraki started, his hand leaving your knee to retrieve his cigarette, "you definitely came to the right place." He took a slow drag, his crimson eyes never leaving yours. "But you might want to be careful. Looking for something sharp enough to make you feel again might be a risky move.”

Your breath hitched, but you clenched your jaw, refusing to break under his scrutiny. “Maybe,” you admitted, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. “What does it matter to you?”

Tomura’s smirk widened, slow and predatory, as though he’d already won some unspoken game. “It matters because you walked into our world,” he murmured, voice dark as the shadows clinging to the room’s edges. “And I’m curious just how far you’re willing to fall.”

Dabi poured himself another drink, downed it, and set his glass down with a sharp clink. "We don’t fix broken things. We break them further."

His scarred hand lifted, fingers brushing along the curve of your jaw, his calloused thumb briefly rubbing against your lower lip before trailing to your neck, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. His long fingers ghosted over your shoulder, where your pulse thudded traitorously fast. Dabi leaned in, inhaling deeply, as if memorizing your scent, the warmth of his breath searing against your skin. He stuck out his tongue and ran it up your pulsepoint.

A cold chill ran down your spine.

“Sweet,” the scarred man murmured, voice low and rough. “You smell so clean, so untouched.”

Shigaraki’s amusement flickered in the curve of his mouth as he reached for the whiskey bottle, pouring another drink for you. “Where do you work?” His tone was casual, but the underlying curiosity felt anything but.

You hesitated, weighing the danger of answering truthfully, but there was no point in lying. They’d sniff out deceit like blood in the water. “Endeavor’s agency,” you admitted carefully. “I handle paperwork.”

The moment the words left your lips, the atmosphere in the room shifted violently, like the air had been sucked from it. 

Dabi’s smirk vanished, replaced by a flash of raw fury that turned his eyes into blazing shards of ice. His glass hit the nearest wall with a deafening crash, shards of crystal scattering across the floor. The amber liquid smeared down the wallpaper like a wound.

“Endeavor,” Dabi snarled, his voice venomous, the name leaving his lips like a curse. He surged to his feet, towering over you in an instant. “You work for that bastard, cunt?” Touya’s chest heaved, nostrils flaring as though he could still smell Endeavor’s presence clinging to you. The growl in his voice was feral, like a wildfire barely contained. He didn’t wait for an answer, his scarred hands twitching at his sides as if itching to burn something — or rather someone.

Instinct overrode reason, propelling a desperate retreat from the leather couch. The corner of the room felt like a safer haven. Your breath came in short, uneven bursts, heart pounding as you pressed yourself against the wall, putting as much distance as you could between yourself and the sheer force of his rage. “I… It’s nothing but a job… I need to pay rent, to pay bills… And he pays well…”

Tomura rose from his spot slowly, movements fluid and purposeful. He reached Dabi with unhurried ease, his touch strangely tender as his fingers brushed along the edges of that scarred jaw. “Touya.” His voice was soft yet commanding, laced with something purely intimate. 

Dabi’s breath hitched but didn’t slow as his azure eyes were locked on your trembling form, fury still crackling beneath his skin like an electric wire. 

Tomura’s fingers tightened, holding the other man in place — not restraining, but rather grounding. He tilted Dabi’s chin up, forcing their eyes to meet. “Look at me.” Shigaraki pressed a firm, grounding kiss against the jagged edge of Touya’s scarred jawline. “Breathe,” he murmured against the marred skin, voice softer now, a private thing not meant for anyone else’s ears. “And calm the fuck down.”

Shigaraki didn’t wait for any response from the scarred man. He yanked Dabi closer by the collar of his jacket, crashing their mouths together with bruising force.

A low, guttural sound escaped Dabi’s throat as Shigaraki bit down on his lower lip, dragging his teeth across scarred flesh in a way that was equal parts punishment and possession. Dabi hissed, but instead of pulling back, he leaned in harder, matching the intensity with reckless hunger. His fingers clawed into Shigaraki’s sides, pulling him closer, like he couldn’t bear the distance between them.

Their tongues danced together.

The sight was mesmerizing and intimate, enough to make your heart thud erratically against your ribcage. You watched, your mouth hanging open slightly, a realization dawning — they were a thing, unmistakably so, and they were unabashedly natural about their affection.

Shigaraki finally broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Dabi’s, murmuring something low you couldn’t hear. 

“Better?” Shigaraki finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dabi exhaled shakily, his scarred lips quirking into a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re such a bastard, boss,” he rasped, voice low but lacking any real venom. The tension in his frame eased.

Shigaraki finally turned his attention back to you, his expression calm, composed, as though nothing unusual had just happened. “Why don’t you take a seat over there, doll?” He gestured to a plush leather armchair nearby, his voice cool but not unkind. “Relax, and tell us a bit about your quirk. I’m curious about that part.”

You moved to the armchair, its soft leather embracing your form as you tried to compose yourself. 

Dabi, his earlier fury now cooled, returned to his spot on the couch beside Shigaraki. Rather than pouring himself another drink, he simply grabbed the whiskey bottle, tilting it back for a long, hard swallow, his eyes never leaving your form.

Gathering your nerves, you began, "My quirk is called Amoria," you uttered, your voice steady despite the swirling emotions. "When I kiss someone, I can amplify their quirks, enhancing their abilities beyond their usual limits for a couple of minutes.. And if I am in love with that person, the effect is not only stronger but lasts longer, too."

Dabi set the bottle down with a thud, a smirk playing on his lips, while Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You might actually be more useful than I initially thought,” Dabi remarked, grinning. There was no warmth in his smile, only a sardonic twist of his lips that suggested he saw you not as a person but as a potential tool to be exploited. "Especially with a quirk like that."

Shigaraki, who had been quietly observing the exchange, perked up with a renewed interest that bordered on avid fascination. "I think we need to test this power of yours," Tomura declared, a hint of excitement threading through his usually calm demeanor.

Your heart skipped a beat at the directness of his demand. The thought of kissing Shigaraki, of being so close to someone so dangerously powerful, sent a shiver of fear mixed with a disgust down your spine. You hesitated, your instincts screaming for caution You shifted uncomfortably in the armchair, the weight of their gazes making you feel exposed and vulnerable. "I — I'd rather not," you stammered, trying to muster your courage to deny him.

Shigaraki’s expression darkened at your reluctance. He leaned forward, his voice lowering to a whisper that somehow filled the entire room. “Don’t make me regret my curiosity,” he said, his words carrying a sweet venom. “It would be a shame to have to disintegrate you for withholding such a valuable demonstration.”

The threat, veiled in a veneer of charm, was clear. Swallowing hard, you realized that your options were few and your situation precarious. 

With a heavy heart and mind racing with anxious thoughts, you stood from the armchair and approached Shigaraki and Dabi, the tension palpable. 

Shigaraki's gaze was fixed, predatory, as he watched you come closer. In a swift motion, he reached out and grasped your wrist, pulling you towards him with an unexpected force. 

Caught off balance, your only options were to awkwardly straddle his lap or risk tumbling to the floor. Choosing the former, you settled uneasily atop him, feeling his hands begin a slow, almost explorative motion up and down your waist. His touch was paradoxically gentle, fingers tracing the fabric of your dress as he inhaled deeply, taking in your scent with an almost reverent curiosity. His chapped lips parted slightly, eyes locked onto yours with a piercing intensity.

Then, with a deliberate slowness, Shigaraki moved his gloved hand to your neck, guiding you down into a kiss. His lips were rough, tasting strongly of whiskey and cigarettes. 

As the kiss deepened, a faint glowing aura began to radiate around you, the visual manifestation of your quirk activating under the intimate contact. 

Tomura shifted beneath you, his hands moving to your back to pull you closer, an unspoken demand for more of the power you were unwittingly amplifying. Shigaraki could feel the raw power filling his veins with a raw, unnatural power, every cell in his body seeming to awaken with renewed vigor.

When he finally broke the kiss, a thin string of saliva connected you momentarily, and you whined at the loss of contact. 

Shigaraki's breath was heavy, his eyes alight with a wild sort of exhilaration. "Fuuuck. I've never felt so powerful before," he confessed, his voice hoarse with wonder. He turned to Dabi, his expression one of awe mixed with a fierce triumph. "Not even after months in that tube at the doctor's hideout when I was getting boosted. This is fucking incredible."

"Come here," Shigaraki panted, voice low, roughened by desire and authority. There was no room for disobedience, no chance to escape. His fingertips pressed into the soft curve of your waist, sliding possessively up and down your sides, mapping every inch of skin through the thin fabric of your dress. “Kiss me again,” the leader of the League of Villains demanded, the edge in his voice razor-sharp, leaving no space for refusal. The implied threat lingered, dangerous and undeniable — you knew exactly what he was capable of. One wrong move, one hint of defiance, and he could end you with the barest touch.

So you leaned in for a kiss. 

His mouth crushed against yours, demanding everything. He groaned against your mouth, low and guttural, his body rigid with restraint he was quickly losing. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, sharp and possessive. He never knew someone else’s spit could taste that good. His crimson eyes burned with violent need, pupils blown wide with lust.

Your head spun, breath stolen as his tongue delved deeper, tangling with yours in a battle for control you’d already lost. You gasped against his mouth when his grip on your hips tightened, pressing you down against the hard, unmistakable evidence of his arousal straining beneath his suit pants.

Shit. You were completely, utterly fucked.

A sharp, irritated growl suddenly shattered the charged atmosphere.

Touya's jaw clenched as he watched Shigaraki’s hands roam possessively over your body, his fingers digging into your waist like he owned you. The sight clearly infuriated the scarred man.

Shigaraki didn’t loosen his grip on you, his crimson gaze flicking lazily toward Dabi without a shred of concern. “Don’t forget who the boss is.”

“Thought we were sharing,” Dabi drawled, voice low and threatening. “Didn’t think you’d keep all the fun for yourself, boss.” Dabi yanked you off Shigaraki and forced you to straddle his lap. His kiss was brutal — searing and unforgiving, all teeth and tongue, like he was determined to brand himself into you. 

Suddenly, a heat exploded where his fingers dug into your waist, the surge of your quirk sparking to life as your mouths tangled together. You felt it hit him — a sudden, visceral rush of boosted power crackling beneath his skin like wildfire. 

Dabi broke the kiss with a ragged gasp, his pupils blown wide with lust and power. “Fuck,” he rasped, eyes blazing like molten fire. “Fucking amazing.”

Before you could answer, a sharp snarl tore from Shigaraki’s throat. He was on you in an instant. “She’s fucking mine, Touya,” Tomura snapped, voice low and deadly, every syllable dripping with dangerous intent.

Before you could even steady yourself, Shigaraki yanked you back into his lap with brutal force, his fingers digging possessively into your thighs. You gasped, hands bracing against his chest as he hauled you close, locking you in place.

His tongue forced its way past your lips again, demanding dominance. 

You had no room to resist — not with the way his hips rolled beneath you. You whimpered against his mouth as he rocked his hips into yours again, letting you feel just how hard he was beneath the rough fabric of his pants. The friction was intoxicating, setting every nerve alight with white-hot need. And you discovered you weren’t scared anymore.

Shigaraki broke the kiss just long enough to rasp, "I’m going to fuck you so fucking hard, doll." His voice was raw, wrecked with desire and possessive rage, leaving no room for interpretation. His red eyes gleamed with dark intent, lips twisted into something between a snarl and a smirk.

Your breath hitched, shock and adrenaline colliding in your chest. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think — trapped between two villains driven by lust, power, and an insatiable need to claim what they thought was theirs.

Dabi wiped his mouth with the back of his scarred hand, eyes still blazing with want and jealousy. His tongue flicked over his lower lip, tasting the remnants of your saliva as his gaze snapped to where you were pinned on Shigaraki’s lap, bodies tangled in a possessive, desperate clash of dominance and need. “Oh, so now you get greedy, huh?” Dabi sneered, his scarred lips curling into a mocking smirk. “You’re not the only one who wants a piece of her, Shiggy.” His eyes flicked to yours, sharp and filled with something feral, before settling back on Tomura. “I think I deserve a turn with that little whore after that little taste.”

“Hey, I’m not a whore!” You protested with furrowed brows.

“Oi! Shut the fuck up,” Touya replied dismissively. 

Tomura’s hand sneaked under the edge of your tight dress, boldly rubbing against your clothed pussy. You were oh so hot down there.

You parted your lips, letting out a cute moan as you shivered.

Dabi’s jaw clenched, anger flickering hotly behind his eyes. He tilted his head, a wicked grin spreading across his scarred face as he dragged his gaze down your trembling form. “C’mon, boss.” His voice dipped lower, almost coaxing but still dangerous. “You really wanna share her here? In this shitty club, with all these useless extras nearby?” His tongue flicked over his bottom lip as his gaze dragged over you, slow and deliberate. “We could take her back to the hideout. Somewhere private.”

Shigaraki’s lips twisted into a grin, sharp and predatory. He looked at you, tilting your chin up with a single finger, forcing you to meet his unrelenting gaze. “What do you say, sweetheart?” His voice dripped with mock sweetness, his thumb brushing your lower lip in a way that made you shiver. “Hope you are ready to come with us.”

You couldn’t speak, your throat tightening as their intentions became horrifyingly clear, so you just shook your head.

Shigaraki sighed and leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, “I wasn’t fucking asking.”

Before you could even process the command, Dabi was already moving, improving his leather jacket. His gaze lingered on you, sharp and hungry. “Move your ass,” he warned, his voice a dangerous purr. “We don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Shigaraki’s hand trailed down your waist, tugging you off his lap with rough impatience as he rose to his feet. His fingers never left your body, keeping you tethered to him like a prize he’d already claimed.

Your heart pounded in your chest as they guided you toward the club’s shadowed back exit, Dabi’s molten gaze burning into your back while Shigaraki’s hand stayed possessively firm around your waist. 

There was no escape.

And the most terrifying truth was that, deep down, a part of you didn’t want to escape at all.

Your body trembled as you were bent over the edge of the bed, completely naked — exposed and pliant, just the way they liked.

The sheets bunched beneath your hands as you braced yourself, trying to focus — trying to breathe — but it was impossible with Dabi lounging lazily in front of you.

His scarred back pressed into the mattress, one arm propped behind his head as he gazed at you through half-lidded eyes, utterly at ease. His cock, flushed and hard, rested against his stomach as he watched you.

“Come on, don’t get shy now,” Dabi murmured, his gravelly voice a mixture of teasing and condescension. His thumb traced your bottom lip briefly before guiding himself into the warm heat of your mouth. 

Your tongue welcomed him, slick and obedient, and he groaned lowly, his hips rocking just enough to force you to take him deeper.

Touya hissed through his teeth, one of his hands coming to rest on the back of your head. “That’s it. Good girl.”

The sound of his pleasure reverberated through you, but your focus shattered when a new sensation made itself known — a hot, slick pressure against your folds. Your thighs twitched as the sensation grew bolder — tracing the curve of your pussy lips before pushing past them.

A muffled whine vibrated around Dabi’s length, and you instinctively arched. With a sharp pop, you pulled off Dabi’s cock, saliva trailing from the corner of your mouth as you gasped for air and moaned shamelessly. Your voice wavered with desperation as you glanced over your shoulder.

There he was — Shigaraki, kneeling between your spread legs, his crimson gaze half-lidded and focused solely on you. “Stop fucking squirming,” he rasped impatiently, giving your cheek a hard spank, his voice raw and hungry. His calloused fingers spread your ass cheeks wide, holding you open for his eager mouth. The drag of his tongue from your soaked entrance to your clit sent a jolt of pleasure up your spine, and your knee buckled.

Your mouth formed a large “O”, and a tear threatened to roll down your cheek.

“Tsk. Pathetic,” Dabi scoffed from in front of you. 

You barely had time to catch your breath before he delivered a stinging slap to your cheek. Your head snapped back, and your wide, tear-glazed eyes met his.

“There we go,” he smirked, clearly pleased to have your full attention again. Slowly, almost deliberately, Dabi ran his hand over his throbbing cock, his skin glistening with the remnants of your spit. He stroked himself lazily, letting you watch every movement, every twitch of his muscles. “I didn’t say you could stop, doll.”

He tapped the head of his cock against your lips, and of course you accepted him in your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, up and down, gently flexing your tongue to tease the massive vein located underneath his cock. A tear finally escaped your eye.

Dabi clicked his tongue, his hand tangling into your hair before giving a sharp tug that forced you off him with an audible pop. Your lips parted, spit trailing down and on his thigh as you looked up at him, dazed and desperate. “You’re pathetic, you know that, whore?” he taunted, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock, teasing himself while spreading your saliva all over his shaft. “Can’t even handle both of us, huh?”

“I am… Not a whore,” you reminded him, slowly opening your mouth to moan loudly as Tomura spanked your ass a few more times.

Behind you, Shigaraki groaned impatiently. “Stop hogging her attention,” he rasped, his voice rough with want. Without waiting, he buried his face between your legs again, his tongue flicking messily over your swollen clit before dragging back down to your slick entrance.

“Shit— Tomura…” you gasped, your back arching instinctively as you ground your pussy against his face. “Just like that.”

“Focus,” Dabi growled from above, snapping his fingers to reclaim your gaze. 

Your eyes darted back to him, your face still flushed and your lips glistening.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered, that sadistic little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

You nodded and wrapped your lips around his shaft again. You pushed your mouth down his shaft until you felt his white, pubic hair that surrounded his cock tickle your nose. While you were sucking Dabi's cock, doing your best to make him satisfied with your efforts, your hand instinctively drifted down between your trembling thighs, fingers seeking relief. Just as you brushed against your slick folds, a rough, calloused hand snatched your wrist, shoving it away.

“Don’t,” Shigaraki growled, his voice a low, dangerous rasp that sent a shiver up your spine.

Before you could protest, his hands gripped your hips, spreading your ass cheeks apart until your pussy was exposed, open, and vulnerable to him. You barely had time to gasp before his mouth was on you.

Shigaraki’s tongue teased the sensitive edges of your entrance slowly, circling in a way that made your thighs tremble. Then, without warning, he pushed in, his tongue slipping into your tight hole, wet and insistent.

The sensation sent white-hot pleasure through you, a sharp, helpless moan tearing from your throat as you arched beneath his touch. Spit spilled from corners of your mouth, dripping on Touya’s thighs.

Dabi’s cock twitched against your tongue at the sight, his grip tightening in your hair. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice rough with amusement. “You really are a mess, aren’t you?”

Behind you, Shigaraki decided to shove your thigh up, pressing your knee onto the edge of the bed to grant himself full, unhindered access. His mouth returned to your pussy, more frantic this time — his tongue working in desperate, messy licks as if he were starved for the taste of you. 

Between Dabi’s demanding gaze and his cock successfully suffocating you, and Shigaraki’s relentless tongue attacking you from behind, you couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped your lips.

“That’s more like it,” Dabi praised mockingly, his smile turning cruel as he watched you unravel. 

Shigaraki let out a low, pleased hum, his face buried between your thighs yet again. “She’s close,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, his nails digging lightly into your flesh as he kept you exactly where he wanted you while he fucked you with his long, skilled tongue.

“Better not pass out yet,” Dabi added, his voice a wicked purr as he delivered a few hard slaps to your face. “We’re just getting started.”

You pulled off Dabi’s cock with a gasp, your chest heaving as you desperately sucked in air between moans. Your lips were swollen, glistening with spit.

Dabi growled low in his throat, a dangerous sound that made your core tighten. His scarred hand curled around the base of his cock, dragging the flushed, leaking head down the side of your face, smearing it across your heated skin before settling it against your parted lips.

“Don’t get lazy on me now,” he warned, voice gravelly with irritation.

Your tongue darted out instinctively, flicking teasingly over his tip as he groaned softly in response. You played with him, swirling your tongue around the angry red head before slowly wrapping your lips around him again. You moaned, your eyelids fluttering in bliss. Inch by inch, you pushed him deeper into your mouth, sucking greedily until you took as much as you could manage, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly, making you gag each time.

Your lips stretched tight around his veiny girth, and you began moving in earnest, bobbing your head forward and back, each bounce deliberate and needy. One of your hands reached to cup and fondle his balls gently, coaxing soft curses from his lips, while the other steadied yourself on his shredded thigh. 

Dabi hissed between gritted teeth, his cock twitching angrily in your mouth, pulsing in warning as he grew closer to his release.

Then Shigaraki joined in.

You gasped softly when you felt his fingers slide into your slick pussy from behind, curling just right as they pressed against your walls. He didn’t stop there, though — his mouth returned to you, tongue swirling over your folds in tandem with his digits. Your knees nearly buckled from the dual sensations, but you didn’t falter.

If anything, you grew more relentless.

You let your spit spill messily. Your hair was tangled, cheeks flushed and streaked with tears as you worked him harder, sucking him down greedily. You didn’t care how fucked out you looked. It didn’t matter after all.

“Fuck—” Dabi hissed, his voice shaky now, his composure cracking. His hand fisted into your hair, tugging hard enough to make your scalp sting. He bucked his hips into your mouth with wild desperation, chasing his release. “That’s it, you little slut,” he grunted through clenched teeth, his voice rough and broken. With one final thrust, he pressed your face flush against his pubic bone, holding you there as he came. His cock twitched violently, spilling hot, thick ropes of cum down your throat in short, jerky spurts.

You moaned around him, the vibrations sending another shiver through his overstimulated body as he groaned loudly, rolling his head back against the pillow. His grip on your hair loosened just slightly, and when you pulled back, your mouth was still full of his seed.

Dabi cracked open one eye, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he looked down at you. “Don’t swallow yet,” he ordered, his voice strained but firm.

You stared up at him, cheeks puffed slightly and tongue cradling his release as you awaited his next command, your body trembling while Shigaraki’s relentless ministrations continued behind you. You could only whine in a strange voice as you didn’t want to spill a single drop of Dabi’s cum.

Shigaraki's tongue and fingers worked you over relentlessly, a maddening rhythm of teasing and torment. He slipped two fingers inside you with an ease that made you shiver, his knuckles pressing against your entrance as he angled his head just right. His tongue flicked purposefully over the swollen bundle of nerves, the sensation sharp and consuming.

Your thighs trembled again, threatening to buckle, but Shigaraki’s grip held you firm, forcing you to take it all.

“Open up.”

Dabi’s voice cut through the haze, a low, commanding drawl that demanded your focus. Propped casually on his elbow where he lay, he watched you with narrowed, calculating eyes.

You obeyed without hesitation, your lips parting, tongue sticking out just enough to display the evidence of your submission — his seed still cradled there.

A faint hum of satisfaction vibrated from Dabi’s throat. “Look at you,” he murmured, his scarred hand reaching out to stroke your cheek in a gesture that was far too gentle given the situation. The warmth of his palm lingered as he cupped your jaw, tilting your head upward with effortless control.

“Been such a good girl for us,” he praised, his tone soft but tinged with that edge of condescension that made your stomach tighten. He pushed himself up onto his knees, his presence now towering over you as he gazed down at your wrecked expression. The grin that stretched across his face was wild and possessive, a cruel glint in his pale eyes as he leaned in closer. “Open wide,” he mused, and you could do nothing but obey, your mouth parting further at his demand.

Dabi held your gaze as he spat, the slow descent of a globe of his saliva deliberate. It landed messily on your upper lip, the warmth of it pooling before sliding down into your waiting mouth, mingling with his cum and your own lingering spit. Your breath hitched as you felt your pride stripped away.

“Now, you can swallow,” he ordered softly, his voice dripping with twisted satisfaction.

You did, your throat working as you obeyed, your gaze never leaving his. The desperation in your eyes only seemed to amuse him more, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw in reward as you blinked up at him.

It was then that Shigaraki’s fingers curled inside you, finding that perfect spongy spot deep within. Your body tensed, a loud, broken whine escaping your lips as your walls spasmed around his digits, your release crashing over you in uncontrollable waves. Shigaraki’s tongue stayed firm against your clit, drawing out every last tremor as you came apart.

You couldn’t stop the shy, breathy whimper that left you as your body sagged slightly, your face flushed in embarrassment.

Shigaraki pulled back just enough to growl lowly against you, the vibration sending another spark of sensitivity through your core as you cleaned your folds from remnants of your release. “Good girl,” the man praised, his voice rough and husky with satisfaction.

Dabi chuckled darkly from above you, thumb tilting your chin up so you were forced to meet his gaze again. “Don’t get all shy on us now,” he teased, his smile sharp and devilish. “You’re doing so well.”

Shigaraki’s gloved hand — slick with your cum — wrapped firmly around your chin, tilting your head up until you were forced to meet his eyes. His crimson eyes burned into yours before he leaned in, claiming your mouth in a kiss that was all teeth and hunger. He groaned as his tongue pushed past your lips, eager, desperate to taste the remnants of Dabi’s cum still coating your tongue.

The moment his mouth met yours, your quirk activated instinctively. A faint aura bloomed around you, light and humming with energy, sending a ripple of warmth through the air. 

Shigaraki growled deep in his throat, his entire body tensing as the surge hit him, spreading like wildfire through his cells. The sound was guttural, animalistic, as if he’d been jolted alive. “Fuck—” he hissed, his lips leaving yours briefly as he shivered from the rush.

“Tsk,” Dabi chuckled, the sound low and smug as he took advantage of Shigaraki’s distraction. Dabi’s scarred hand wrapped around Tomura’s cock. His hand pumped slow, deliberate strokes, his thumb brushing against the sensitive head just to coax a sharp gasp from his boyfriend’s lips. “Relax, hothead. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Your lips were abandoned as Shigaraki’s focus faltered completely, his attention turning to Dabi with a heated glare. “Ugly bastard,” Tomura rasped, though the way his hips bucked into Dabi’s hand betrayed just how easily he was unraveling.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dabi murmured smugly, his voice a soft purr. With a rough tug and a smirk, he pulled Shigaraki into a kiss that left you breathless just from watching. Their lips met in a clash of teeth and tongues, Dabi’s dominance clear as he guided Shigaraki back onto the bed with ease. Tomura didn’t resist; he let Dabi push him down, his white hair splayed like a halo on the sheets.

Dabi settled between Tomura’s thighs, his sharp grin softening into something dangerously wicked as he ducked his head. Without preamble, his mouth wrapped around Shigaraki’s cock, and Tomura let out a broken groan, his back arching off the bed.

“Fucking hell, Touya…” Tomura rasped, one hand flying to Dabi’s white hair, gripping tight.

You were left kneeling at the edge, forgotten, stripped of their attention. A needy whine escaped you before you could stop it, the ache between your legs too much to ignore. Frustration flared hot in your chest, but you couldn’t look away from the sight in front of you — Shigaraki, the leader of the League of Villains, wrecked and trembling under Todoroki’s mouth, and Dabi himself, so smug and methodical as he sucked his boyfriend off.

“Assholes,” you muttered under your breath, though your voice lacked any real venom. Giving in, your hand drifted down between your thighs, your fingers brushing over your slick folds. A sharp inhale left you as you began to rub lazy, teasing circles against your clit, your gaze fixed on them as if the sight alone might bring you release.

There was something maddeningly hot about the way Dabi could so easily dominate Shigaraki — about how quickly the sharp edges of the most powerful man softened under Touya’s touch.

How the hell had it come to this? You barely remembered. The whiskey at the club burned as it came back to you, their teasing words, the way Dabi and Shiggy had leaned close to murmur threats into your ear if you didn’t follow them. A shiver ran through you at the memory, though whether it was fear or excitement, you couldn’t tell.

What you did know was that this — this night, this wild chaos — was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. It was raw and humiliating, your body used and claimed by two men who couldn’t care less about your dignity. And yet, you were dripping for them, your fingers already working faster as you squirmed on the bed, watching the two men you couldn’t get enough of.

Your body quivered, breath ragged as you bit your lip, already desperate for more. One thing was certain: you didn’t care how you ended up here. All you could think about was how much you wanted them inside you — both of them — until you forgot your own name.

And judging by the way Dabi’s eyes flicked toward you, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face as he pulled off Shigaraki’s cock with a sinful pop, they weren’t done with you yet. “Look at her,” Dabi drawled, voice thick with amusement as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Couldn’t handle being left alone for five minutes. Such a needy little shit.”

Shigaraki’s head lolled to the side, his crimson eyes barely focused but sharp enough to catch the way your fingers moved between your thighs. “So fucking needy.”

Dabi grinned and pushed Shiggy’s cock past his lips again. Dabi worked Shigaraki’s cock with an eager, unrelenting rhythm, his mouth gliding along the length in sloppy, wet strokes that filled the room with the most obscene, filthy sounds you’d ever heard. His lips stretched wide, dragging over every vein, his tongue teasing mercilessly as he sucked in earnest, loud and unapologetic, his turquoise eyes never left Shigaraki’s face.

With a sharp pop, Dabi pulled off, a strand of saliva connecting his lips to Shigaraki’s throbbing shaft. He tilted his head, eyes glinting, before he tilted his mouth horizontally, wrapping his lips along the sensitive side of Shigaraki’s cock. His movements turned fast — up and down, slicking him completely with spit that glistened in the dim light of the room.

“Fuck—” Shigaraki hissed, his voice cracking with the effort to keep his composure, but Dabi wasn’t done. He slid further down, taking one of Shigaraki’s balls into his mouth, sucking and rolling it against his tongue, his hands working the rest of his boyfriend’s shaft in time with his mouth.

The control didn’t last long. Shigaraki’s breaths turned ragged, his hips twitching with the need to chase release, and within seconds, he snapped — his cock jerking in Dabi’s hand as he came, hard and sudden.

Thick ropes of cum spurted forward, hitting Dabi’s face in messy streaks. 

Shigaraki groaned through gritted teeth, his body trembling as the last of his release spattered across Dabi’s scarred chin and nose.

Touya sat back slowly, his expression smug as he swiped his tongue across his lip, unbothered by the mess dripping down his face. “Didn’t think you’d lose it that fast, Shig,” he mused, his tone laced with a teasing drawl. “Guess I’m just that good, huh?”

Shigaraki’s red eyes burned into him, his breath still heavy as he scowled faintly. “Shut up, Todoroki.”

Dabi just grinned, licking his fingers clean as he savored every last drop of Tomura’s cum. “Whatever you say, boss.”

It was when their attention returned to you.

“You should fuck her,” Touya pointed out, glaring at Shigaraki, his tone lazy yet deliberate, as if offering the most obvious suggestion in the world. “Look at her — she’s trembling. Can’t fucking wait to have her needy little cunt stuffed full of your dick.”

Shigaraki shivered at the words, his red eyes darkening as he raked his gaze over you. A shudder ran through his body, his voice a breathless rasp as he muttered, “I’m overstimulated. You go first. It’ll be even better when I take her after you’ve filled her needy cunt with your hot cum.”

The way they spoke about you, as if you weren’t even there — like you were some object to pass between them — made your stomach twist and a shiver race down your spine. You clenched your thighs instinctively, but the heat pooling low in your belly was unstoppable.

Dabi, lying back next to Shigaraki on the bed, gestured lazily with two fingers. “C’mere, whore. Straddle me.”

“I’m not a whore,” you reminded him once again with a frown crossing your forehead. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Todoroki growled back.

The command was all you needed, your body moving instinctively to obey. You climbed over him, settling your knees on either side of his hips, your trembling hands already reaching for his cock. He was rock hard again, pulsing and ready for you, and you dragged him along your slit, teasing both yourself and him as the head of his cock glided through your slick folds.

Dabi’s patience, however, was notoriously thin. His large hands suddenly gripped your waist, and before you could react, he pushed you down onto him with one firm thrust.

You cried out as he impaled you, the stretch of his cock filling you completely and stealing the air from your lungs.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet and tight,” Touya growled, his voice low and guttural as his fingers dug into your flesh. His hips shifted slightly, grinding into you to pull another broken moan from your lips. “You’re squeezing me so tight.”

Above him, you clung to his chest, nails scraping lightly over the healthy patches of skin as your body adjusted to the sudden fullness. 

Dabi didn’t give you a chance to catch your breath though; his hips rolled beneath you with slow, intentional force, and the pressure made your head spin.

“Don’t stop,” Shigaraki muttered, his voice strained as he watched you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Keep going. I want to see her fall apart on you before I take my turn.” The man of course was jerking himself.

Dabi’s lips curled into a grin, his eyes gleaming with that signature cruelty as he tilted his head to look up at you. “Hear that, doll? You’d better give us a good show.”

His hips snapped up suddenly, and you cried out again, the room filling with the sound of skin meeting skin and the broken moans spilling uncontrollably from your lips. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, head tilting back toward the ceiling as Touya’s hands worked over you, rough and greedy. His scarred fingers pinched and kneaded your breasts, each tug on your sensitive nipples sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. His heated gaze stayed fixed on you — on the slow, mesmerizing roll of your hips as you started grinding your pelvis against him, dragging your slick pussy over the massive length of his cock.

“Fuck, just like that,” Touya praised, his voice gravelly and strained, though he made no move to stop you. His cock pressed against your entrance, teasing you, every shift of your hips making him twitch and pulse in response. 

A pure bliss overtook your features.

When you placed your hands flat on his scarred chest, steadying yourself, he let you take control, his pale cerulean eyes narrowing with dark satisfaction. 

You began to move faster — hips gliding forward and back, dragging his thick cock up through your folds, almost slipping it out before grinding back down to bury him deep inside you. The friction burned deliciously, and the sound of his low groans only spurred you on.

Opening your eyes, you locked gazes with him as you picked up the pace, your movements sharp and purposeful. Without breaking a sweat, you rode him hard — bouncing on his cock with quick, fluid movements that had him pressing deeper, hitting that spongy spot inside you over and over again. The mattress beneath you creaked in protest.

Touya’s lips curled into a wicked grin, clearly pleased with your display, but he was never one to let you feel too triumphant. With a sudden shift, he reached up and wrapped one large, scarred hand around your throat. His grip was firm — tight enough to steal a fraction of your air, to make you lightheaded and needy as his rough thumb pressed against your pulse point. “Yeah, that’s it,” he rasped, voice low and dark, his eyes drinking in every reaction you gave him. 

Your whine came out broken and pitiful, a sound that only spurred you to ride him faster, harder, your body slamming down onto his cock with a desperation that left you trembling. You knew you had to work hard to be able to breathe again.

Before you could think, another touch joined the chaos. From the side, Shigaraki’s pale fingers pressed roughly against your clit. He rubbed in firm, purposeful circles, coaxing you closer to the edge before landing a few sharp slaps to your sensitive, swollen bud.

“Messy little thing, aren’t you?” Shigaraki muttered, his voice gruff and mocking. He trailed his fingers lower, gathering the juices that had spilled out of you, smirking as he scooped up some of it. With a satisfied hum, he sat back slightly, spreading the slick over his cock with slow, intended movements. His hand glided easily along the long length of his shaft now, each stroke lazy as he watched you. “Make him cum in your cunt finally.”

Dabi’s grip on your throat finally loosened, though the sight of you gasping for air, eyes glazed and lips parted, was enough to make his cock twitch. As much as he loved watching you struggle, he didn’t want to break his favorite toy.

“Fuck, you’re a mess,” he uttered, a dark smirk curling his lips as one scarred hand slid up to cradle your cheek. His other arm snaked around your lower back, locking you against him with ease. Before you could catch your breath, he drove his hips up sharply, forcing you to cry out as his thick cock filled your aching pussy to the brim. “Feel that?” Dabi taunted, his voice low and teasing as he set a ruthless rhythm. 

Your body rocked with each brutal thrust, the sound of his balls slapping against you echoing obscenely through the room. “Tight, little thing can barely take me.”

Your mouth fell open reflexively, head lolling back as the relentless pace had you seeing stars. 

Dabi’s grip on you tightened as his thrusts grew sharper, harder, forcing you to take every inch of him. Sweat began to bead along both your bodies, the heat of it all adding to the haze of pleasure clouding your mind.

Then he shifted, pulling you down until your chest met his, your chin resting over his scarred shoulder. Both of his arms caged you in, holding you flush to him as his hips began pounding up at an impossible speed. 

Your breath came out in ragged pants directly into his ear, your whines growing louder, more desperate. “Ahh— Touya… I’m gonna—” you whimpered, voice trembling as your entire body started to quake. “I’m gonna—”

“Cum,” he growled into your ear, his teeth nibbling on your earlobe as his hips snapped upward mercilessly.

With a sharp gasp, you came undone, a broken moan ripping from your throat as your pussy clenched down around him, milking his cock with every pulse of your release. You lolled your head back to lower it and rest your forehead against the crook of his neck. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh my god, yes!” You cried, the words dissolving into a long, drawn-out moan as waves of pleasure crashed over your being.

Dabi hissed through his teeth, sweat dripping down his temple as he fucked you through your orgasm, refusing to let go. The slick, obscene sounds of skin meeting skin grew louder, wetter, as he chased his high.

And then it happened — your body, overstimulated and writhing, couldn’t hold back anymore. You screamed his name as you squirted, a torrent of juices splashing over Dabi’s abs and thighs.

“Fuck! Look at you,” Dabi chuckled darkly, his voice strained as he watched you, his teeth clenched hard. He delivered a sharp slap to your cheek, the sting sending a jolt through your already-sensitive body. “Dirty little whore. Look what you’ve done.”

With a final, deep thrust, his cock twitched violently inside you, and he let out a guttural groan as he came. Hot ropes of cum spilled into your soaked pussy, the sensation making you shudder, trembling from head to toe as you wrapped your arm around his neck, hugging him as tightly as you could.

For a moment, you waited for him to push you off — but he didn’t. 

Instead, Dabi’s arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you closer as he pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to your temple. “You did oh so well, doll.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before Shigaraki’s gravelly voice broke the moment. “My turn.”

Reluctantly, you pushed yourself up, Dabi’s hands steadying you as you moved. His release, mixed with yours, dripped shamelessly down your inner thighs and onto the sheets, staining them in messy evidence of your debauchery.

“On all fours,” Shigaraki ordered coldly.

Your body obeyed instinctively, trembling slightly as you got into position. Shigaraki knelt behind you, his pale hands spreading the cheeks of your ass as his crimson eyes drank in the view of your pussy entrance clenching around nothing, missing the contact. With a low curse, he spat directly onto the valley between your cheeks, watching the saliva trail down over your puckered hole and toward your slick, used entrance.

“Stay still,” Tomura warned, the tip of his cock sliding through the mess he’d created. He dragged it deliberately, spreading the wetness across both openings before aligning himself. Without another word, he pushed in, forcing his length into your soaked cunt in one slow, steady stroke. “Fuck! So warm,” he applauded, his voice heavy with hunger as he sank his cock to the hilt. “And still so fucking tight. C’mere,” Shigaraki called, turning his head to Dabi, who was still sprawled beside you, watching the scene with an air of smug satisfaction. 

Touya didn’t hesitate, moving closer as Shigaraki grabbed his jaw roughly and tilted his head, pulling the scarred man into a messy, sloppy kiss.

Dabi growled against Tomura’s mouth but let him take control. 

Their tongues clashed, heated and unrestrained, while Shigaraki’s hips slammed into you from behind. The combined sound of their heavy breathing, and the wet slap of Shigaraki’s thrusts filled the room entirely.

Your body rocked forward under Shigaraki’s relentless pace. You sneaked a hand between your trembling thighs to rub your clitoris and move your fingers further to spread your entrance more. The feeling was deliciously good, and you moaned like a whore when your pussy clenched fitfully.

“Shit,” Shigaraki rasped, breaking the kiss long enough to groan, “you’re gonna squeeze me dry if you keep that up.” Tomura’s gloved hand tangled into your hair, tugging harshly and smashing your head down onto the mattress. The movement was rough, his grip unyielding as he bent you forward to angle himself deeper inside you. 

A strangled gasp left your lips, your body arching instinctively as he adjusted his stance, burying his cock to the hilt with a single thrust.

Smack.

The sound echoed through the room as his palm connected with the curve of your ass, the sharp sting blooming into warmth almost instantly. “Stay still,” he rasped, his voice hoarse and low. Red prints of his hands marked your skin, glowing against your plushy flesh.

You cried out, fists clenching tightly into the sheets as Tomura gripped your waist, holding you in place. His thrusts grew brutal and relentless, hips snapping against yours in a rhythm that bordered on feral. Each movement dragged him against every ridge of your walls, your pussy clenching and unclenching around his cock, the friction overwhelming.

Tomura’s gaze dropped to where your ass pressed back against him, mesmerized by the way your body swallowed him whole. The tremors that coursed through you only spurred him on, his cock throbbing as he leaned forward. His mouth found your neck, trailing hot, sloppy kisses between your shoulder blades and up behind your ear. 

His breathing grew heavier, more ragged, and within moments, you felt the twitch of his cock inside you. Tomura groaned, pulling out abruptly, the tip of his length gleaming and oozing precum. “Suck,” Shigaraki ordered, voice sharp but breathless as he looked at Dabi.

Touya — who’d been lounging with that ever-present, pervert smirk — sat up at the command, eyes flicking to you before sliding to Tomura’s dick. Without protest, Dabi knelt and leaned forward, wrapping his lips around Tomura’s leaking cock with deliberate ease. 

Tomura’s head fell back briefly, a hiss escaping his lips.

While Dabi worked his boyfriend, his hand snaked between your legs, two long fingers sinking into your soaked cunt. His digits thrust into you with a lazy, calculated pace at first, the slick sound of your arousal driving him wild. The movement of his hand sent splashes of your wetness dripping onto the sheets below, a testament to just how far gone you were.

It didn’t take long for Tomura to lose patience. His hand shot to Dabi’s hair, yanking him off his cock with a wet pop. “Enough,” the leader growled, before guiding himself back into you with a single, unforgiving thrust. The force knocked the breath from your lungs as he picked up a wild, punishing pace.

Your body trembled beneath him, overstimulated and unable to do anything but take what he gave you. 

Tomura’s nails dug into your hips, his low moans mingling with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. His pace faltered as his cock twitched, his release barreling toward him. “Fuck—” Shigaraki snarled, thrusting into you one last time, as deep as he could go. His body shuddered violently as he came, spilling himself inside you in thick, hot pulses. He stayed there for a moment, grinding his hips to push every drop deeper in your pussy before finally collapsing against you, his breaths heavy and ragged.

You slumped onto the mattress, your limbs weak and spent, but Tomura wasn’t done admiring his work. He withdrew slowly, watching intently as his cum — white, and thick — began to trickle from your overstimulated, reddened cunt. The sight alone made him groan softly, his fingers spreading you apart to see the mess he’d left behind. He licked his lips; the thought of his cum being so easily mixed with your and Dabi’s releases drove him crazy. “Looks good on you,” Shigaraki chuckled, dark and satisfied.

You didn’t have the strength to answer, so you moaned quietly.

“Do you think about the same thing I do?” Dabi asked Tomura, his voice low and deliberate as his scarred hand kneaded the soft flesh of your ass, fingers sinking into it with casual possessiveness.

Shigaraki, kneeling behind you, dragged his palm lazily up and down the length of his cock, thumb teasing over the tip. He licked his chapped lips, hesitant. “Yeah, but… I’m not sure if she’s loosened up enough.” His voice wavered faintly, rough and uncertain. “I don’t wanna hurt her.”

“Tsk.” Dabi clicked his tongue in irritation, his free hand coming down hard on your ass with a sharp slap that made you yelp and jolt forward. The sting and print of his unnaturally warm hand bloomed across your skin. “She’s unbreakable. Ain’t that right, Amoria?” he added, using the name of your quirk as a pet name.

Your body perked up at the sound of his voice, though you turned your head to glance over your shoulder at him with a tired but questioning look. “Mhm?”

Dabi’s grin widened, a wicked gleam in his pale turquoise eyes. “We wanna try something new. Something your beloved ex probably wouldn’t have let you do. You up for it?”

Even through the haze of exhaustion, you found yourself nodding eagerly, curiosity outweighing fatigue as you slowly sat up. “Sure. What is it?”

Dabi scoffed, shooting Shigaraki a smug look. “Told ya,” he noted before his gaze fell back to you, his voice softening slightly. “Have you ever had your cunt stuffed with two cocks at the same time?”

Your eyes widened, the question hitting you like a bolt of electricity. You shook your head slowly.

“Wanna try it?” He phrased it like a challenge.

You rubbed your palms against your knees after sitting on them, glancing between the two men before smiling faintly. “What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger, I guess…”

“That’s the attitude,” Dabi murmured, his grin stretching wider.

Without another word, Dabi lay back against the bed, dragging you with him until you were straddling his hips again. His cock — thick, hard, and begging to be stuffed in your warm cunt yet again — throbbed against your swollen slit, which still ached from earlier. He grabbed your waist, guiding you down onto him with little patience, groaning as he sank back into your warmth. “Fuck…” Dabi hissed, his head pressing into the pillow as he felt how easily you took him again. His cock slid inside your stretched-out entrance, and he smirked darkly as he felt Shigaraki’s cum leaking out of your slit, flowing over his erection, slick and hot. “See that, Shigs? The slut's so fucking loose. You’re good to go.”

Shigaraki didn’t need to be told twice. He nodded curtly, shuffling closer to get into position behind you. His hands gripped your hips firmly as he adjusted himself. One of his palms slid along the curve of your ass, and he delivered a quick, stinging slap that left you whining softly.

“Relax,” Shigaraki muttered, though his own breathing had grown uneven. With a rough groan, he began pressing himself against your already stuffed cunt, his long, slender cock sliding slowly alongside Dabi’s. 

The stretch was immediate, sharp and overwhelming as your walls struggled to accommodate the added girth.

“Fuck, she’s tight now,” Shigaraki growled under his breath, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself back.

“Yeah?” Dabi sneered, though his voice was breathy with his own pleasure. He shifted slightly beneath you, adjusting his angle so you were forced to take more of him. “Told ya she could handle it. She’s tougher than she looks.”

Neither of them seemed to mind the friction where their cocks pressed together, filling you completely. In fact, it only made them more eager. 

The combined stretch sent you reeling, tears pricking your eyes as they started moving — slow at first, then building in rhythm, a perfectly matched pace that had you gasping for air.

“Shit… look at ya,” Dabi stated, his voice low and hungry as he dragged you down against his scarred chest. His long fingers tilted your chin up until your face hovered just above his. His tongue darted out, running lazily up your cheek to taste the salt of your sweat and tears. “You look fucking ruined, doll. You like this, huh?”

Your only response was a broken moan and eager nod of your head, your body trembling as you tried to hold yourself up while they worked you over. 

Behind you, Shigaraki’s nails dug into your hips, his restraint slipping with every thrust. “She’s so— Fuck!— Full,” Shigaraki rasped, his voice cracking slightly as he buried himself deeper.

“Yeah, no shit,” Dabi grunted beneath you, his smirk never fading. “You better keep up, Shigs. Can’t let me outdo you, now, can we?”

The two of them moved in perfect rhythm, their thrusts syncing to a punishing pace that left you helpless and whining in their hold. 

Dabi’s chest rumbled with laughter as he watched your face twist with pleasure, more tears spilling down your flushed cheeks, every broken sound you made only fueling him further. “Good girl,” Dabi murmured finally, his voice dark and satisfied. “Such a good, little pet.”

At that point, you were completely incapable of forming coherent words. Your mouth fell open, spilling nothing but broken moans, tiny strings of saliva, and strangled cries as they both relentlessly tore into you, their thrusts striking every sensitive, sweet spot deep within your pulsing, velvety walls. The pleasure was unbearable — overwhelming to the point that you felt yourself drifting off, your mind teetering on the edge of oblivion.

A sharp slap brought you back.

Dabi’s scarred hand cracked against your cheek, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to jolt you awake, his azure eyes narrowed. “Eyes open, doll. You’re not tapping out yet,” he growled.

Behind you, Tomura delivered another sharp smack — this time to your ass. “Don’t you dare pass out,” the leader hissed, his voice raspy as his nails dug into the soft flesh of your hips.

The two men fucked you mercilessly, their cocks stretching you to your absolute limit as they plunged into your dripping cunt, their movements fierce and unrelenting. Your entire body trembled from overstimulation, every nerve ending alive and alight, your pussy clenching uncontrollably around them. It was maddening, beyond anything you’d ever felt — pure, unadulterated bliss mixed with the sharp edge of being completely, utterly used. 

“Look at her,” Dabi murmured through gritted teeth, his smirk curling at the edges as his thrusts grew sloppier. “She’s fucking gone, Tomu. You feel that? She’s throbbing around us like she’s about to break again.”

Tomura let out a growl of agreement, his pace turning frantic as he rutted his dick into you, the slick sound of their cocks rubbing against each other within your tight, soaked walls driving him wild. “She’s perfect,” he rasped, his crimson eyes wild with lust.

You couldn’t hold back — couldn’t stop yourself as the climax built and crested like a tidal wave, ripping through your body with unforgiving force. You screamed — a raw, desperate sound — as your abused pussy spasmed violently around them, the overwhelming pleasure forcing tears to slip down your flushed cheeks.

But they didn’t stop.

Over the next several minutes, they continued to fuck into you without mercy, their movements relentless even as your body twitched and jerked in oversensitive ecstasy. Their cocks slid into your overstimulated, reddened cunt, rubbing against each other with every brutal thrust, the friction pulling deep groans and grunts from their throats.

Dabi was the first to snap.

You felt it — a sudden stretch as he buried himself to the hilt, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix in a way that had you sobbing. He cursed under his breath, his body tensing as his shaft twitched violently, pumping hot, thick spurts of cum deep inside you. The warmth bloomed within your core, unnatural and heavy, his groaned “Fuck, that’s it…” echoing in your ears.

Tomura followed moments later. He threw his head back with a ragged yell, his fingers bruising your hips as he came hard again, emptying his balls inside you in thick, pulsing waves. “Take it, take it! Take it, you filthy little cunt,” he choked out, a string of curses tumbling from his chapped lips as he pushed in as far as he could go. His release shot deep, mixing with Dabi’s until it overflowed from your ruined cunt, spilling in hot rivulets down your trembling thighs.

The sensation of being stuffed so full — of their seed mixing and dripping from your stretched, abused pussy — pushed you over the edge once again. Another orgasm tore through you, sudden and brutal, making you squirt violently around their still-hard cocks. A choked cry escaped you before your mind finally went blank.

The world dimmed at the edges, your body completely, utterly spent. As your consciousness slipped away, the last thing you registered was Dabi’s voice — low, dark, and smug — murmuring, “Looks like we broke her, Tomura.”

A soft chuckle followed before everything went black.

Tomura pulled out of you slowly, his cock slick and throbbing as he stroked himself a few more times, riding out the last shudders of his release. With a low, satisfied groan, he collapsed beside Dabi, his chest heaving as his body finally gave in to exhaustion.

Dabi shot him a sidelong glance, already sprawled comfortably on the bed like he owned it. “Move over, Shigs,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly, though there was no real bite to his words. “Make some room for her.”

Tomura grumbled something under his breath but obeyed, shifting further to the side. With that, Touya carefully pushed you off his cock, his movements surprisingly gentle despite his usual rough demeanor. He shifted you between them, taking care to ease your limp body into the space they’d made. His scarred hand slipped beneath your head, lifting it just enough to place you onto one of the pillows. Dabi hovered for a moment, watching your flushed face as you drifted off, spent and serene. Your lips were parted, and you were breathing heavily, yet you looked as peaceful as if you’d merely fallen asleep after a long day.

Tomura watched the scene in silence, his red eyes narrowing with faint curiosity. It wasn’t often he saw Todoroki like this — so still, so intent. There was something rare in the way Touya looked at you, something bordering on concern. It tugged at something unfamiliar in Tomura’s chest, though he quickly brushed the feeling off. Breaking the quiet, he reached out, his gloved fingers brushing along Dabi’s scarred cheek. “You were fucking awesome,” Tomura rasped, a crooked smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Touya’s lip curled upward into a smug, familiar grin, the cockiness returning to his expression like a reflex. “Yeah? I know. So were you, Shigs,” he replied, his voice smooth with praise and self-satisfaction. “You’ve got an eye, I’ll give you that. Thought this one would be another shy little thing to fuck but turns out, we found ourselves a damn sex machine.”

Tomura chuckled darkly, resting back against the bed. “We did. And her quirk…” He trailed off, tilting his head as if replaying the events in his mind. “It’s fucking awesome. I’ve never felt so powerful in my entire life — like I could destroy anything just with a glance.”

Dabi hummed in agreement, propping himself up on his left elbow and letting his cheek rest in his palm. “Same here,” he admitted, voice softer now, though the sly smirk remained. His gaze flickered back to your sleeping form. “Pity, though, the cunt works for that old fucking bastard.”

“Not necessarily,” Tomura countered, his tone sharper, more thoughtful. His red eyes gleamed with intent as his mind turned over possibilities. “That might be one of her most valuable assets for us. We can use her — turn her into our spy. With her in our pocket, we’ll always be a step ahead of the fucking heroes. It will help us win the war.”

The suggestion hung heavy in the air. Dabi fell quiet, his grin fading as he considered Tomura’s words. His eyes lingered on you for a long moment, the weight of the choice settling over him.

Tomura tilted his head, watching his boyfriend with mild amusement. “You know I’m right,” he declared, the certainty in his voice absolute.

After a beat of silence, Touya sighed through his nose, a reluctant smirk curling back onto his lips. “Yeah, you might be onto something,” he muttered, the faintest hint of admiration coloring his tone.

“I like how you’re using the name of her quirk as a nickname,” Tomura remarked, his voice low and amused as he reached out, brushing a tangled strand of hair off your cheek with surprising gentleness.

Touya let out a quiet chuckle. “Yeah,” he drawled, his lips tugging into a smug grin. “Suits her, doesn’t it?”

Between them, you slept soundly, unaware of the plotting, of their voices weaving around you like a web — one you might never escape.

@unhinged-bratty-boy @hornydynamight @alexandhisstuff @shonen-brainrot @roast-toast

@pixelcafe-network @dabislittlemouse @within-eyesight @sahhuban @jowjayjax

@pridefulbakugou @irkedpomeranian @crystalwolfblog @gojoswifesworld @commonmisery

@proherodabisballsack @bitchyfestivalbouquet @starandcloud @shionancientsblog @words-of-wonder

@fallenrosesblog @t4ters

[prokopetz]

why do you think indie metroidvanias specifically take so long to make, and is there a solution that you'd like to see them go for? (i know that would likely mean a compromise of some kind, but like, you know)

The reason why is fairly obvious: the classic metroidvania formula makes it very easy to fall prey to unintentional scope creep and is a positive nightmare to QA.

Non-linear progression gating based on precision platforming challenges where the player's basic moveset is constantly changing means every little thing needs to be rigorously tested in every part of the gameworld, carefully checking every room with every combination of abilities the player could conceivably possess for a wide range of failure states.

Is there some combination of abilities that allows the player to get into this room, but not out of it afterwards? Is there some combination of abilities that allows the player to do things in an order you didn't expect? Does that variation in sequencing in turn create situations where the player can end up somewhere without an ability you had assumed was required to get there? And so forth.

Even once you've got everything tested, it's not over. Every tiny change during development, even as small as adding or subtracting a couple of percentage points from the player character's jumping height or walking speed, can potentially have a domino effect that introduces a whole new set of failure states. It's not a pretty picture!

As for solutions, the one most solo or small-team metroidvanias end up adopting is to put a damper on the exponential QA explosion by linearising progression. If you haven't flipped the right switch or visited the right room, the door simply doesn't open, the progression-critical cutscene simply doesn't trigger, and so forth. Even big-name metroidvanias often make judicious use of this one: for example, Super Metroid has certain doors in the early game that just arbitrarily will not open until you've collected a couple of specific items from the game's combat-free introductory area.

The trouble with this approach is that if you use it to the extent that's necessary to keep your QA responsibilities at a manageable level for a small team or solo developer, you functionally end up with a linear, level-based platformer that makes you walk from one level to the next. Whether this disqualifies a given title from the "metroidvania" label is a demarcation problem I'm not interested in litigating, but folks who expected a more open world experience are quite understandably going to be disappointed.

The approach I'd prefer more indie metroidvanias take is to keep things under control by limiting their scope. Not ever damn thing needs to be the next Hollow Knight; many classics of the genre can be completed in well under an hour with good routing even without employing modern speedrun tech. Similarly, some of the best indie metroidvanias are those with the smallest maps; Alruna and the Necro-Industrialists, probably the best example of open-world map design of any metroidvania published in 2024, has a map that's scarcely twenty by twenty screens, and its routing is downright fiendish.

(One of my perennial probably-never-gonna-happen projects is to design a full-featured metroidvania targeting a two to three hour casual playthrough whose entire map can fit on a single screen while remaining at a vaguely playable zoom level, in the style of titles like 1 Screen Platformer.)

[fortunxa]

streamer!Jinx (x reader) / modern AU (duh)

H E A D C A N O N S

—INCLUDES!

➤ x (fem!)reader

➤ x streamer!reader

contents: like one or two suggestive mentions, mentions of doxxing

author's note: chat!! @myrruwrites has officially motivated me to finish this draft, so PLEASE go check out their streamer!Jinx posts (more hcs here and fic here)!!! or really any post in general :P

── ⟢ streamer!Jinx in general

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who started streaming just for fun, not thinking much of it, and gets overwhelmed when her account starts gaining traction. She still doesn’t know if she likes it or not. Some days, she feels on top of the world; on others, it just makes her feel awkward.

⭑.ᐟ She mostly streams in her pajamas or other comfy clothes. On rare occasions, she’s wearing her rave outfit (smudged makeup, body paint, and all) because she didn’t change when she got back home and impulsively decided to stream. (rave girl!Jinx when?)

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who’s canceled every other week. She has no filter, nor does she care. She continues streaming, groaning loudly in annoyance if the chat brings up her latest controversy one too many times.

⭑.ᐟ Constantly arguing with kids if they annoy her. It was so over the moment Roblox added the mic feature. Her account almost got banned. She still does not care.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who gets hilariously pouty at hate comments. She’s offended and does a bad job at hiding it.

– “Okay, so like… what IS wrong with my pants? Just out of curiosity, not that I care or whatever.”

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who knows she’s pretty but gets annoyed if someone comments on her appearance. It weirds her out. On the other hand, she’s also oblivious to how attractive she looks doing mundane things. (*cough* manspreading *cough*)

⭑.ᐟ She bans people on the spot for causing her the smallest of inconveniences. She’s on a power trip.

– “This is MY kingdom.”

⭑.ᐟ Her monitors are surrounded by post-it notes with random doodles, unfinished cryptic to-do lists, and stream ideas she quickly jotted down.

find a duck. real 1 this time

paint the thing spray paint purple 1st

buy more spray paint (green, pink, PURPLE)

get snacks (for her + me) + wires bolts

scope out the alley

test run #3

finish gift hehe

don’t forget to

⭑.ᐟ Contrary to popular belief, Jinx is a Redbull kind of girl, and her desk is proof of that. She used to be a Monster Energy fan, but she drank so much of it throughout the years that it made her sick.

⭑.ᐟ She constantly “improves” or “upgrades” her streaming gear with scraps from old tech. Some of it will be homemade, too.

⭑.ᐟ Her webcam is cracked, which makes the quality so shit that it brings a tear to her viewers’ eyes, so they beg her to get a proper one. She finally relents.

– “Here, damn. You guys are so spoiled. Now pay up since y’all wanted it so bad.”

‘omg the world is healing’

‘feels like getting new glasses’

‘this is a moment in history’

⭑.ᐟ Her mic quality fluctuates. Sometimes, it’s crisp; sometimes, it picks up loud static due to her “improvements.” It also completely cuts off if she screams too loud.

⭑.ᐟ Any gear she buys will be automatically customized the Jinx way: doodles upon doodles and paint splatters.

⭑.ᐟ She has a soundboard that features sound effects like classic explosions, the vine boom sound, the Among Us role reveal, the FNAF hallway sound, “YIPPEEE!”, the snoring man, a laughing track, clown circus music, and the Samsung “Morning flower” alarm (cursed version) amongst many others.

⭑.ᐟ Her webcam is tilted at weird angles half the time because she keeps bumping it while moving around.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx whose wifi cuts out way too often, and she blames it on “the government trying to stop her chaos”.

⭑.ᐟ Her streams never start on time. She either doesn’t acknowledge it or gives an over-the-top excuse. Viewers think she’s lying when she says she had to diffuse the toaster (she’s not).

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who loves clickbait titles. Plot twist: no one knows if it’s actual clickbait or if she’s serious when she writes “strapping fireworks to my chair :D”.

⭑.ᐟ She either streams with every. single. one. of her neon lights on (flashbanging new viewers in the process) or have no light at all, with her monitor illuminating ONLY her face in a way that makes it look like a dark web livestream.

⭑.ᐟ She’s so inconsistent with her streaming that her viewers never know when and if she’ll stream again. She randomly stops updating on her socials, too.

‘guys i think this might be it for her’

‘ho is u dead???’

<livestream notification> “SURPRISE, LOSERS—I’m (a)live! Didn’t see that coming, huh?”

‘omg she’s back’

‘diva is alive!!!’

– “You doubted me? You DOUBTED ME?!”

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who jumps between topics, games, and rants with no warning, leaving her viewers dizzy but entertained. Fans with ADHD love her.

⭑.ᐟ IF (by miracle) she runs out of things to talk about or gets bored with a game, she turns to her viewers.

– “Entertain me, jesters.”

⭑.ᐟ Her streams (suddenly) switch from hyperactive fun, where she’s practically bouncing in her chair, to intense focus, where she just glares at her screen with determination.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who pranks her chat constantly. She’ll cut the video feed to show a jumpscare, laughing in the background while her viewers are freaking out.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who pranks other streamers by sending her viewers over for a raid.

– “You just got jinxed!”

⭑.ᐟ Occasionally refers to her chat as the “Boom Crew” or “Jinxlings”.

⭑.ᐟ She reads the chat at lightning speed (most of the time she’ll misread it, too), responds to every third comment, and gets distracted mid-sentence.

⭑.ᐟ Her community is riddled with inside jokes like “press F for Sharky”. Sharky being her shark plushie, of course.

⭑.ᐟ Her mods barely keep up with the chaos in her chat. Occasionally, Jinx disables moderation completely and declares “anarchy hours.”

⭑.ᐟ She creates characters to embody on stream. “Sergeant Boom”, a gruff explosives expert, or “Miss Mayhem”, a villain plotting world domination. She commits to the bit so hard that she confuses new viewers.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who’s a sore loser, and it doesn’t help when the chat is roasting the shit out of her after. 10000% rage quits and/or slams her keyboard. But she’s not above cheating to win, either—will call other cheaters out, though, genuinely crashing out.

– “Chat, what the FUCK, that’s not fair! It totally lagged!”

– “I’m literally never playing this shit again.” (spoiler: she plays this shit again).

⭑.ᐟ Her IRL streams would be infamous for their unpredictability. One moment, she’s exploring back alleys, and the next, she’s setting off fireworks in a parking lot. Don’t ask if it’s empty.

“Popular streamer arrested for destruction of property.”

⭑.ᐟ She once took her viewers to one of her graffiti sessions and encouraged the audience to vote on the designs.

“Popular streamer arrested for spray painting ‘obscene’ graffiti.”

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who disappears for a week after that, only to come back all pissy.

– “Chat, I’m on probation… I guess.”

⭑.ᐟ She has the most cursed keybinds imaginable. But hey, they work for her.

⭑.ᐟ “Jinx’s workshop”: a recurring segment where she tinkers with random gadgets on stream.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who sets off confetti after each bit/donation.

⭑.ᐟ She disappears mid-stream and comes back in a shark onesie. She doesn’t acknowledge it.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who puts her shark plushie in the middle of her chair if she has to take a break, leaving her headset on it.

– “Alright, Sharky’s taking over.” Sharky’s head is barely peeking out from under the desk, but he’s chill.

⭑.ᐟ For a girl as agile as her, she trips over her setup or falls off her chair a little too often. Yes, there is a compilation. Yes, she does react to it on stream and laughs so hard she tips her chair again.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who, every now and then, drops her chaotic persona to thank her viewers for their support only to laugh it off right after. Or she’ll surprise them with genuine insight/advice.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who starts venting in the middle of her stream. Sometimes, it’s pure angry nonsense; sometimes, she gets so emotional that she just suddenly ends the stream. She comes back some time later, acting like nothing happened and gaslighting her viewers into thinking it was part of a skit.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who announces every game dramatically. (yes, like that one scene with the monkey mic)

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who occasionally plays bootleg versions of popular games just to make her viewers suffer through them with her.

⭑.ᐟ She absolutely, 100%, modded her sims game. She also locked up sims in the basement and/or took the ladder from the pool.

⭑.ᐟ She plays Among Us just to leave the server if she doesn’t get impostor.

⭑.ᐟ Fortnite and Minecraft are her holy grail. Also enjoys Call of Duty, Overwatch, Apex Legends, Fall Guys, Garry’s Mod, and she’s an absolute menace in GTA V. Definitely a FNAF girl.

⭑.ᐟ Roblox?? Oh, she’s ON. Put her in the horror games. She’s screaming and laughing, bouncing on her chair (her energy’s infectious).

⭑.ᐟ She enjoys watching the fatalities in Mortal Kombat a little too much.

⭑.ᐟ She tried VR a few times and nearly took out her entire setup with how much she was flailing around.

⭑.ᐟ Don’t ask her to play choice-based games. She will intentionally choose the worst option possible just to watch it all burn.

⭑.ᐟ Absolutely hates narrative games (with few exceptions). She can’t keep up with the story (because she skips dialogues and cutscenes) and quits if the plot takes too long to develop. She never remembers the characters’ names either, so she’ll just rename them.

– “Blah, blah, blah… Boooooring. Next!” She then dramatically presses the skip button. “Wait, guys, who’s the dude again? I swear he looks sooo familiar.”

‘that’s the mc’s dad’

‘just put the fries in the bag…’

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who, despite the fact that she’s creative, has no official merch—only fan-made one with slogans like “I survived Jinx’s stream”.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who ends her streams by shooting finger guns at her webcam. The feed cuts off right after the “pew”.

BONUS: just gamer!Jinx who owns a Nintendo Switch and a Nintendo DS which she decorated with cute little stickers and charms. They’re her babies—she carries one or the other at all times.

── ⟢ streamer!Jinx x (fem!)reader

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who tried to keep your relationship private at first, but she just couldn’t contain her excitement. She wanted to show you off. She introduced you as her “partner in crime” and then corrected herself to “partner in love” (because she’s cheesy like that).

⭑.ᐟ She loves dragging you into her streams. It doesn’t matter what she’s doing. Bonus: the viewers adore your dynamic.

– “I’m just happier when she’s here.”

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx whose chat spams “SUMMON THE GF”. Sometimes it works.

⭑.ᐟ The viewers asked her about you so much the first time you didn’t appear on stream with her that she ended up jokingly saying, “I got dumped.” They rioted, and you walked in to smack her upside the head.

⭑.ᐟ You try to warn her against some of her ideas. Most of the time, she goes through with them anyway and is 100% surprised when they backfire.

‘JINX NO’

‘LISTEN TO HER’

‘JINX DON’T DO THAT’

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who genuinely starts tweaking if you get any hate comments (to the point of wanting to dox people) (she did dox people).

⭑.ᐟ You mute her mic mid-sentence if you feel like she’s about to say something controversial that will inevitably get her in trouble.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who gets a second webcam just to capture your reactions. This also becomes a compilation, and she keeps rewatching it, giggling to herself (kicking her feet).

⭑.ᐟ She also randomly giggles at something off-camera—chat instantly assumes it’s because of you.

⭑.ᐟ She constantly talks/brags about you even when you’re not there, and she visibly lights up when she does. She makes chat say thank you for every act of service.

– “She made me pancakes before the stream. Chocolate chip ones. Take that, losers.”

– “She’s keeping me hydrated like a little plant. Say thank you, Jinxlings.”

– “She’s making me dinner after this stream. Wifey or what?”

⭑.ᐟ She also “complains” when you care about her health. She says you’re bullying her into it.

– “She told me to actually sleep last night. Can you believe that?”

– “She cut me some fruits. Even the grapes, for fuck’s sake! What am I, a toddler?” ….. “They’re good… I guess…”

⭑.ᐟ Going back to her having a soundboard, she uses the “YIPPEEE!” sound effect whenever you enter the room.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who gets easily distracted when you’re doing something off-camera.

– “Chat, did you see that? She’s so perfect, ugh.”

– “I literally just made the bed.”

‘she’s down bad’

‘u guys make me sick’

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who notices that you fell asleep off-camera, so she shushes her chat and tries to whisper for the rest of the stream. Cue her raging/cheering silently, biting her fist so she won’t scream.

⭑.ᐟ She casually flirts with you on stream.

– “Who needs a win streak when I already won at life, huh?”

– “How am I supposed to focus when you’re sitting there looking like that?”

‘ew’

‘get a room’

– “We have one. Guess what happens in it,” she just replies with a smug grin.

⭑.ᐟ No shame, no filter 2.0.

– “Stream’s late ‘cause I was in pound town.”

– “JINX!”

– “What? They’re the ones all up in our business.”

⭑.ᐟ Physical affection also doesn’t end when she’s streaming. If anything, it makes it even better for her when people are watching. She has you in her lap whenever she can, and she melts at every little peck you give her.

⭑.ᐟ She claims that you’re her stream mascot (other than Sharky, of course).

⭑.ᐟ She calls you her lucky charm and demands a good luck kiss before each match or boss fight. If you don’t give it to her (why would you do that? give the pretty girl a kiss), she will (jokingly) blame you if she loses.

⭑.ᐟ You will sometimes pick out fun outfits to wear on stream together, like themed costumes, matching accessories, or cosplays (and Jinx refuses to break character the entirety of the stream). You once dressed up as each other.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who tries to do a cute “heart hands” moment, but she gets distracted and ends up making a weird shape instead.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who constantly forgets to unmute herself after ranting to you off-camera.

‘ho is u muted’

‘UNMUTE’

‘is she muted or just broke her mic fr this time’

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who tries to impress you with ridiculous in-game stunts.

– “Babe, watch this!” She then proceeds to set off some explosives, blowing up her character in the process. “…That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

⭑.ᐟ She immediately turns to you for comfort when she rage quits.

⭑.ᐟ You step in to calm her down during an intense or frustrating gameplay, usually by playing with her hair or tracing patterns on her back.

– “Alright, chaos queen, deep breath. You got this.”

⭑.ᐟ You once changed Jinx’s sub alert to say, “SUBSCRIBE SO JINX CAN AFFORD A FUNCTIONING BRAIN.”

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who made you one of her mods for a day. You nearly lost your mind. Safe to say you quit.

– “Babe, as much as I love you, this feels like running a daycare… if the daycare was on fire… and the kids had guns. Matter of fact, forget the daycare. This feels like the purge.”

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who, instead of upgrading her setup, spends the money she gains on her projects or on spoiling you. She got you a Nintendo that matches hers with games like Animal Crossing for you to unwind.

⭑.ᐟ She texts you updates like “broke my keyboard again. love you!!!!!!!!!! :p”

⭑.ᐟ She takes pride in teaching you how to play some of her favorite games. It’s even better when she sees you making actual progress and gaining skills.

⭑.ᐟ Sometimes, you both forget obvious things in the game, resulting in chat calling you “dumb and dumber”.

‘birds of a feather flock together’

‘one brain cell between them’

‘i think they lost said brain cell’

⭑.ᐟ She loves it when you play competitive games together, but if you think she’s going easy on you, you’d be dead wrong. She will throw the blue shell at you in Mario Kart with no remorse.

⭑.ᐟ SOMETIMES, she lets you win but in the worst possible way (like jumping off the map dramatically).

⭑.ᐟ Playing It Takes Two together, and it’s an absolute shitshow (but at least it’s funny).

⭑.ᐟ You create in-game versions of each other in customization games, and she’s definitely made you both in The Sims. She even gave you cats.

⭑.ᐟ steamer!Jinx who once started a stream, forgetting you were in the other room waiting for her. You came in to get her, pouting.

‘L+ratio+forgotten gf’

‘jinx you’re a dick’

⭑.ᐟ Co-op cooking streams where Jinx inevitably burns something.

⭑.ᐟ Crafting stream!!! But Jinx accidentally glued her hand to something, so now you have to help her.

⭑.ᐟ Doing each other’s nails/makeup on stream or simply painting (on) one another.

⭑.ᐟ Chill streams (and by that I mean just sitting around and talking) are a rarity, and they only happen if you’re around. She dislikes personal questions during Q&A’s but absolutely loves answering those concerning your relationship (doesn’t necessarily answer truthfully, though. She loves making up crazy stories about how you both met; the audience is still unsure which version is true).

BONUS: the “do my hair and Q&A” hc by @myrruwrites lives in my head rent free. I repeat: go check out their post.

⭑.ᐟ She livestreams some of your road trips.

– “This is totally our couple adventure arc.”

⭑.ᐟ She once streamed her planning a surprise for you. You weren’t home when you got the stream notification, and you joined it, curious to see what she was up to. She was so lost in her own world that she didn’t notice you until the surprise was spoiled.

– “Hey, who snitched? Y’all suck.”

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who wakes you up in the middle of the night to share her stream content ideas.

⭑.ᐟ Or she wakes you up by playing too loudly, and you have to physically drag her to bed.

⭑.ᐟ She just lays across you like a cat on off-days while watching dumb videos.

⭑.ᐟ You both rewatch her funniest stream moments together before bed, laughing at all the dumb things she said and cheering loudly at her clutch wins.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who signs off streams with a sly grin, saying, “Alright, I’m off to bother my girlfriend now”.

── ⟢ streamer!Jinx x streamer!reader

⭑.ᐟ Everyone knows you’re dating (no matter how much you tried to hide it at first), so you have a shared fanbase.

⭑.ᐟ Your streaming room is divided. It may seem like a bad idea considering the chaotic energy she brings to her streams, but she enjoys having you close by. You’re used to the noise anyway.

⭑.ᐟ Matching setups!!!!

⭑.ᐟ You make sure that Jinx has everything she needs before her stream, while she hypes you up before yours.

⭑.ᐟ Her crashing out in the background of your streams is such a recurring thing that it ends up becoming a meme.

⭑.ᐟ She once got caught humming softly to herself in the background of your stream which made the chat go absolutely wild.

‘JINX SOFT ARC’

‘i cannot believe my ears’

‘wait so she’s normal?’

⭑.ᐟ She frequently sends her viewers over to raid your stream with a message that says, “TELL HER I LOVE HER”.

⭑.ᐟ She takes over your stream when you take a bathroom break, or she’ll just lean into the mic and whisper, “Chat, she’s like SO pretty” before running away like a gremlin.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx once hacked into your stream settings just to change the title to something cursed or extra cheesy.

⭑.ᐟ She crashes your stream if she’s bored with hers.

⭑.ᐟ Reacting to fanfics together. It starts sickeningly sweet, only to crash and burn once Jinx starts picking the wilder ones.

⭑.ᐟ Sometimes you manage to have a chill, rainy-day stream together where you play cozy games.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx “accidentally” friendly fires you in shooters and then apologizes dramatically.

⭑.ᐟ She also “accidentally” finds you in online games. She swears she’s not stream-sniping, but no one believes her.

⭑.ᐟ She leaves heart-shaped patterns in Minecraft or Fortnite for you to find.

⭑.ᐟ Automatically teaming up against everyone else in multiplayer lobbies.

⭑.ᐟ You get assigned to opposite teams? It’s either cutthroat and tests your relationship, or you’re helping each other out (much to your teammates’ dismay).

⭑.ᐟ Although she’s known for streaming late herself, she whines if you do the same, claiming she can’t sleep without you (half-true).

⭑.ᐟ She wraps her arms around you from behind or drapes herself over your lap whenever she needs closeness or attention, watching you play.

⭑.ᐟ Or she’ll just unceremoniously end your stream to steal you away.

💙 art bonus by @ne0nspr1te !! + part 2 💙

entering Jinx’s stream:

[wachinyeya]

‘Ferrari in a junkyard’: Mules sold at auction are rare, endangered horses

https://washingtonpost.com/climate-environment/2024/08/09/przewalskis-horses-rescued-dna-shrek-fiona/

Hannah Huckabay regularly combs livestock auctions online for horses she can rehabilitate and train at her Colorado ranch. But when she saw a video in February of a mule for sale in Kansas, she could hardly believe what she was seeing.

The stocky animal’s short black mane shot straight up like a mohawk, and its white belly stood out against its tan coat. As it nervously paced in its corral, Huckabay said it bore a striking resemblance to Przewalski’s horse, a critically endangered species she’d learned about while studying equine science.

“I was like, ‘There is no way. That is not a mule,’” Huckabay recalled thinking. “That’s a purebred Przewalski.”

Such a find would be incredibly rare. Once extinct in the wild, around 2,500 Przewalski’s horses remained worldwide as of 2022. They’re native to Mongolia and in June, seven were reintroduced to nearby Kazakhstan as part of an effort to return them to their natural habitats. They are the only truly wild horse remaining (mustangs are feral horses).

But scientists say Huckabay’s hunch appears to be correct. Hair samples from the animal Huckabay purchased - along with a second horse recently surrendered at a Utah sanctuary - were sent to Texas A&M University’s animal genetics lab. Both appear to be Przewalski’s horses, said Rytis Juras, the genetics lab’s director who tested both samples.

The hair test looks for genetic markers associated with different horse breeds to determine an animal’s likely ancestry. Unequivocally confirming that the horses are purebred Przewalski’s and not hybrids would require advanced blood tests that are expensive and would mean sedating the equines.

The blood tests look at the number of chromosomes in a horse’s cells - 66 in a purebred Przewalski, versus 64 in a common horse or 62 in a donkey. An even more advanced version could sequence the horse’s entire genome.

But Juras and two other scientists who reviewed the findings said the hair-test results are reliable.

“If I would have gotten it from a zoo … that would be one thing,” Juras said of receiving the samples. But two random tests with Przewalski’s results were “surprising and a little bit disturbing,” he said. “This is weird.”

How the horse Huckabay found - and the second in Utah - ended up in livestock auctions is a mystery, said Christopher Faulk, a professor of animal science at the University of Minnesota who has studied Przewalski’s horse genetics and also reviewed the DNA results.

“Someone had to have known what they were, they don’t just appear out of anywhere,” Faulk told The Post. “Especially to have been disposed of in that way is even weirder,” he said, since livestock that aren’t purchased at auction can end up in slaughterhouses.

“That’s like finding a Ferrari in a junkyard,” he added.

Huckabay bought the animal for $1,375 in February and, after three weeks in quarantine, the ragged and underweight animal sold as a mule arrived at her ranch outside Denver.

Seeing its features in-person left her even more convinced it was a Przewalski’s horse, she said. With a large clunky head and stiff black mane, her daughter said the horse was so ugly, he was cute, Huckabay recalled. They named him Shrek, after DreamWorks’s beloved ogre.

After almost two months of helping Shrek acclimate, Huckabay’s daughter stumbled upon a video posted on June 9 from a sanctuary in Utah.

“Did we just have a Przewalski mare surrendered?!” the caption read.

Kelsey and Gunnar Bjorklund - who own the Lazy B Equine Rescue and Sanctuary in Utah - suspected their mare was also a Przewalski. But they had no idea there was a second possible Przewalski, saved from another auction.

The Bjorklunds’ horse was brought to their facility after being purchased for $35 in January at an auction in Utah, where she was advertised as a mule.

“It takes more money to get your nails done,” Kelsey said, adding that her previous owner decided to surrender the mare after she flunked out of a professional training program.

When the horse arrived and was unloaded from the trailer, “we were just in shock,” Gunnar said. It was clear the animal wasn’t a mule or a mustang, he said.

“Anyone getting possible Przewalski vibes!?” the Bjorklunds posted. “A true wild, endangered species of equine‼️ How cool would that be!”

In response to seeing the Bjorklunds’ viral video, Huckabay’s daughter posted her own videos of Shrek two days later. One got over 11 million views.

After coming across Shrek’s video, it was easy for the Bjorklunds to settle on a name for their mystery horse - Fiona, the princess-heroine from the Shrek movies.

The rescuers were stunned that two possible Przewalski’s horses could have surfaced almost simultaneously. The Endangered Species Act allows private ownership of endangered animals, but only with a permit, and under strict stipulations. The law prohibits the possession of illegally obtained endangered animals or their transport across state lines without permits.

The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service declined to comment on whether officials are investigating the horses’ chain of custody.

Some livestock auctions have occasionally served as hubs for illicit trade in exotic animal species.

Because most Przewalski’s horses descend from only about a dozen surviving individuals, scientists closely manage breeding genetics for diversity. Compared to the feral mustang, Przewalski’s are more resilient, said Dolores Reed, a biologist who helps oversee a small herd of the endangered horses at the Smithsonian’s National Zoo and Conservation Biology Institute. Przewalski’s horses are built for the Mongolian steppe’s harsh climate, she said, adding, “they’re very tough,” and can be unpredictable.

There are about 100 Przewalski’s horses in U.S. zoos, Reed said.

Shrek and Fiona are adjusting to their new environments, their owners said. After keeping his distance from people and trotting in circles in his pen while stressed, Shrek has relaxed and moved to a larger field. He has bonded with two gentle mares and while he won’t accept treats from people’s hands, he loves when apples and carrots are left in his feed bucket, Huckabay said.

“He’s very piggy,” she said.

In Utah, Fiona has put on weight and made friends with a miniature mule and a quarter horse filly at the Bjorklunds’ sanctuary.

The rescuers wonder what would’ve happened if Shrek and Fiona hadn’t been saved. The endangered animals might’ve been sent to slaughter “and nobody would have known about it,” Gunnar said.

Huckabay and the Bjorklunds plan to care for the horses as long as needed, but said they’d prefer to see their rescued Przewalski’s move to a professional conservation program.

Shrek is happy on the ranch, but Huckabay said she’d rather see him with “a herd of his own.”

“That would be the best-case scenario,” she said.

[just-ornstein]

[JK]  My first job was as an Assistant Producer for a video game company called Interplay in Irvine, CA. I had recently graduated from Boston University's School of Fine Arts with an MFA in Directing (I started out as a theatre nerd), but also had some limited coding experience and a passion for computers. It didn't look like I'd be able to make a living directing plays, so I decided to combine entertainment and technology (before it was cool!) and pitched myself to Brian Fargo, Interplay's CEO. He gave me my first break. I packed up and moved out west, and I've been producing games ever since.

[JK] I loved my time at EA. I was there for almost a full decade, and learned a tremendous amount about game-making, and met the most talented and driven people, who I remain in touch with today. EA gave me many opportunities, and never stopped betting on me. I worked on The Sims for nearly 5 years, and then afterwards, I worked on console action games as part of the Visceral studio. I was the Creative Director for the 2007 game "The Simpsons", and was the Executive Producer and Creative Director for the 2009 game "Dante's Inferno".

[JK] I haven't played in a long while, but I do recall that after the game shipped, my wife and I played the retail version for some time -- we created ourselves, and experimented with having a baby ahead of the actual birth of our son (in 2007). Even though I'd been part of the development team, and understood deeply how the simulation worked, I was still continually surprised at how "real" our Sims felt, and how accurate their responses were to having a baby in the house. It really felt like "us"!

Now for some of the development and lore related questions:

[JK] So I ended up in the incredibly fortunate position of creating the shipping neighborhoods for The Sims 2, and recruiting a few teammates to help me as we went along. 

Around the same time, we started using the Buy/Build tools to make houses we could save, and also bring them into each new build of the game (correcting for any bugs and incompatibilities). With the import tool, we could load Sims into these houses. In time, this "vanguard QA" process turned into a creative endeavor to define the "saved state" of the neighborhoods we would actually end up shipping with the game.

On playtesting & the leftover sims data on various lots:

Basically, we were in the late stages of development, and the Save Game functionality wasn't quite working. In order to test the game properly, you really needed to have a lot of assets, and a lot of Sims with histories (as if you'd been playing them for weeks) to test out everything the game had to offer. So I started defining a set of characters in a spreadsheet, with all their tuning variables, and worked with engineering to create an importer, so that with each new build, I could essentially "load" a kind of massive saved game, and quickly start playing and testing. 

It was fairly organic, and as the game's functionality improved, so did our starter houses and families. 

The thought process behind the creation of the iconic three neighborhoods:

I would not say it was particularly planned out ahead of time. We knew we needed a few saved houses to ship with the game; Sims 1, after all, had the Goth house, and Bob Newbie's house. But there wasn't necessarily a clear direction for what the neighborhood would be for Sims 2. We needed the game to be far enough along, so that the neighborhood could be a proper showcase for all the features in the game. With each new feature that turned alpha, I had a new tool in my toolbox, and I could expand the houses and families I was working on. Once we had the multi-neighborhood functionality, I decided we would not just have 1 starter neighborhood, but 3. With the Aging feature, Memories, a few wacky objects, plus a huge catalog of architectural and decorative content, I felt we had enough material for 3 truly distinct neighborhoods. And we added a couple of people to what became the "Neighborhood Team" around that time.

Later, when we created Strangetown, and eventually Veronaville, I believe we went back and changed Pleasantville to Pleasantview... because I liked the alliteration of "Verona-Ville", and there was no sense in having two "villes". (To this day, by the way, I still don't know whether to capitalize the "V" -- this was hotly debated at the time!)

Pleasantview:

Anyway, to answer your question, we of course started with Pleasantview. As I recall, we were not quite committed to multiple neighborhoods at first, and I think it was called Pleasantville initially, which was kind of a nod to Simsville... but without calling it Simsville, which was a little too on the nose. (There had also been an ill-fated game in development at Maxis at the time, called SimsVille, which was cancelled.) It's been suggested that Pleasantville referred to the movie, but I don't think I ever saw that movie, and we just felt that Pleasantville kind of captured the feeling of the game, and the relaxing, simple, idyllic world of the Sims.

Pleasantview started as a place to capture the aging feature, which was all new to The Sims 2. We knew we had toddlers, teens, and elders to play with, so we started making families that reflected the various stages of family life: the single mom with 3 young kids, the parents with two teens, the old rich guy with two young gold-diggers, etc. We also had a much greater variety of ethnicity to play with than Sims 1, and we had all new variables like sexual orientation and memories. All these things made for rich fodder for a great diversity of families. Then, once we had family trees, and tombstones that carried the actual data for the dead Sims, the doors really blew open. We started asking ourselves, "What if Bella and Mortimer Goth could be characters in Sims 2, but aged 25 years? And what if Cassandra is grown up? And what if Bella is actually missing, and that could be a fun mystery hanging over the whole game?" And then finally the "Big Life Moments" went into the game -- like weddings and birthdays -- and we could sort of tee these up in the Save Game, so that they would happen within the first few minutes of playing the families. This served both as a tutorial for the features, but also a great story-telling device.

Anyway, it all just flowed from there, as we started creating connections between families, relationships, histories, family trees, and stories that we could weave into the game, using only the simulation features that were available to us. It was a really fun and creative time, and we wrote all of the lore of Sims 2 within a couple of months, and then just brought it to life in the game.

Strangetown:

Strangetown was kind of a no-brainer. We needed an alternate neighborhood for all the paranormal stuff the Sims was known for: alien abduction, male pregnancy, science experiments, ghosts, etc. We had the desert terrain, which created a nice contrast to the lush Pleasantville, and gave it an obvious Area 51 vibe.

The fact that Veronaville is the oldest file probably reflects the fact that it was finished first, not that it was started first. That's my guess anyway. It was the simplest neighborhood, in many ways, and didn't have as much complexity in terms of features like staged big life moments, getting the abduction timing right, the alien DNA thing (which I think was somewhat buggy up until the end), etc.  So it's possible that we simply had Veronaville "in the can", while we put the last polish on Pleasantville (which was the first and most important neighborhood, in terms of making a good impression) and Strangeville (which was tricky technically).

Veronaville:

But my personal favorite was Veronaville. We had this cool Tudor style collection in the Build mode catalog, and I wanted to ship some houses that showed off those assets. We also had the teen thing going on in the aging game, plus a lot of romance features, as well as enemies. I have always been a Shakespeare buff since graduate school, so putting all that together, I got the idea that our third neighborhood should be a modern-day telling of the Romeo and Juliet story. It was Montys and Capps (instead of Montagues and Capulets), and it just kind of wrote itself. We had fun creating the past family trees, where everyone had died young because they kept killing each other off in the ongoing vendetta.

[JK] You know, I have never seen The Lone Gunmen, and I don't remember making any kind of direct references with the Strangetown Sims, other than the general Area 51 theme, as you point out. Charles London helped out a lot with naming Sims, and I'm pretty sure we owe "Vidcund" and "Lazlo" to him ... though many team members pitched in creatively. He may have had something in mind, but for me, I largely went off of very generic and stereotypical ideas when crafting these neighborhoods. I kind of wanted them to be almost "groaners" ... they were meant to be tropes in every sense of the word. And then we snuck in some easter eggs. But largely, we were trying to create a completely original lore.

[JK] Well, I think we kind of pushed it with The Sims 2, to be honest, and I remember getting a little blow-back about Bunny Broke, for example. Bunny Broke was the original name for Brandi Broke. Not everyone found that funny, as I recall, and I can understand that. It must have been changed before we shipped.

We also almost shipped the first outwardly gay Sims in those neighborhoods, which was bold for EA back in 2004. My recollection was that we had set up the Dreamers to be gay (Dirk and Darren), but I'm looking back now and see that's not the case. So I'm either remembering incorrectly (probably) or something changed during development.

In general we just did things that we found funny and clever, and we just pulled from all the tropes of American life.

[JK] The alien abduction started in Sims 1, with a telescope object that was introduced in the "Livin' Large" expansion pack. That's when some of the wackier ideas got introduced into the Sims lore. That pack shipped just before I joined Maxis in 2001; when I got there, the team had shipped "House Party" and was underway on "Hot Date". So I couldn't tell you how the original idea came about, but The Sims had this 50's Americana vibe from the beginning, and UFOs kind of played right into that. So the alien abduction telescope was a no-brainer to bring back in Sims 2. The male pregnancy was a new twist on the Sims 1 telescope thing. It must have been that the new version (Sims 2) gave us the tech and flexibility to have male Sims become pregnant, so while this was turned "off" for the core game, we decided to take advantage of this and make a storyline out of it. I think this really grew out of the fact that we had aliens, and alien DNA, and so it was not complicated to pre-bake a baby that would come out as an alien when born. The idea of a bunch of guys living together, and then one gets abducted, impregnated, and then gives birth to an alien baby ... I mean, I think we just all thought that was hilarious, in a sit-com kind of way. Not sure there was much more to it than that. Everything usually came from the designers discovering ways to tweak and play with the tech, to get to funny outcomes.

[JK] Possibly we were just testing the functionality of the Wants/Fears and Memories systems throughout development, and some stuff got left over.

[JK] I can't remember, but that sounds like something we would have done! I'm pretty sure we laid the groundwork for more stories that we ended up delivering :) But The Sims 2 was a great foundation for a lot of continued lore that followed.

--

I once again want to thank Jonathan Knight for granting me this opportunity and taking the time from his busy schedule to answer my questions.

[meydang]

Flustered

(sfw)

Asaba Harumasa x reader

You have always been curious, does he actually have fangs? So you decided to find out yourself.

.

.

.

It all started when you were scrolling through the trending section of a fanpage dedicated to Harumasa. As his girlfriend, you’d seen it all - edits, memes, and the occasional over-the-top appreciation posts. But today’s featured post stopped you dead in your tracks.

"Harumasa’s fangs… real or just a vibe? Discuss."

The thread is filled with multiple opinions. Some argued that the fangs are indeed real, citing close-ups from promotional shots, pointing out how they gleamed in certain lightings, while others believed they are simply acessories - part of his carefully crafted, cool image. His fangs had always fascinated you, but now that someone mentioned it, you just had to know. Were they really the real deal?

You glanced over at Harumasa, who is sitting across the couch scrolling his phone, oblivious to the online discourse. Suddenly, a thought crosses your mind: not only could you get your answer, but you could also see what it took to fluster the usually unshakable Harumasa.

"Hey, Haru," you called casually, leaning against the armrest. "Do you..." you began innocently, setting your phone down, "do you ever read what people post about you online?"

"Not always. Why? Are they saying something stupid again?" He answered, not looking up.

"Not stupid," you said, suppressing a smile. "More like… curious. People were debating about your fangs just now." You continued.

"My fangs? What’s there to debate?" He paused mid-scroll, glancing up at you for a moment before returning his attention to his phone. "Some people think they’re real, but a lot are convinced they’re fake. Personally..." You trailed off, trying to look thoughtful.

"Personally what?" He looks at you properly now, his golden eyes narrowing slightly.

"Oh nothing," you shrugged, leaning forward. "I guess they do seem a little too perfect. Like, almost too sharp, It’s not crazy to think they’re fake."

His brows furrows slightly, and you fought the urge to grin. "You're not being serious." he said flatly.

"Totally serious," you replied, tilting your head - smirking. "And maybe I need to test it to see for myself." Before he could protest, you move closer, sliding across the couch until there was barely any space left between you. His eyes widened slightly as your hands gently cupped his face, your fingertips brushing against the sharp line of his jaw. Your face was so close now that you could see every detail - the faint blush spreading across his cheeks, the way his lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out.

Cute, you thought to yourself.

His breath hitched when your thumb grazed his chin, and you smiled inwardly, noting how his usually composed demeanor seems to falter. "Hold still," you added, your tone almost teasingly sweet. Harumasa swallowed, his eyes flickered from yours to your hands as you tilted his head slightly.

Very cute.

"What are you doing?" he asked, voice low and tinged with uncertainty. "Settling the debate," you said sweetly with a smile. You reached out carefully, brushing your finger against one of the pointed teeth. It was cool to the touch - and real.

"Whoa," you whispered, leaning back a little. "They’re legit." and before you could help yourself, you pressed a bit harder, only to yelp when it pricked your fingertip.

"Told you, and that’s what you get for doubting your boyfriend." Harumasa huffed, sitting back with a smirk despite his shyness still lingering.

"You could’ve warned me they were that sharp!" You cradled your finger dramatically, feigning the injury.

"Hey hey, you’re the one poking around where you shouldn’t," he states it like it's a warning, but the way his arm slipped around your waist said otherwise. "Next time, just ask." he continued smugly, baring his fangs out to you in an exaggerated grin.

"Maybe. But where’s the fun in that?" You laughed, resting your head against him. "Besides, I just learned something way more interesting."

"Oh? What’s that?" he asked, his tone now more suspicious and guarded as he glances back down at you.

"You’re easy to fluster." you said, grinning as you watch the faintest hint of color rise to his cheeks again.

"I’m not flustered!" Harumasa clicked his tongue, trying to compose himself albeit not being very successful at it.

"Sure," you said, backing away with a triumphant laugh. "Whatever you say, Haru." Despite his protests, his ears burned a shade of red that gave you all the satisfaction you needed.

[simspaghetti]

While setting up my Stardew Valley save, I wanted to find out if it was possible to create community lots that have live-in residents, given that many of the town buisnesses also function as NPC homes in Stardew

Turns out it is possible to do - it uses an NRAAS feature I never knew existed, so I thought I'd give a tutorial! (ty to the NRAAS forums & MTS help threads for this information! - I've just compiled it to help others :D)

Essentially, this means you can create functional pubs / bars / shops / restaurants etc. which your sims can actually live in while running the business, and other non-playable town residents will view the lot as a community lot and come to visit / interact with it as such!

Also, as I've got a few of these NRAAS tutorials going now, I made a page where you can find all of them linked here - I'm open to requests as well :)

Tutorial under the cut ⬇️

Mods you will need:

NRAAS MasterController & MasterController Cheats

NRAAS Register (only for Part 2)

EDIT TO ADD: I recommend using a business mod such as Ani's Merchant Mod to allow your sim to earn money from their business in addition to this tutorial - you may find this much better for current-household gameplay, because your sim will not earn funds from their business when you're only using the NRAAS method detailed here (apart from mixology tips etc.)

Part 1: Adding sims as residents

Start by building / placing your business of choice using Edit Town, and pick what kind of community lot you want it to be through the 'change lot type' menu

Plop down the sims you want to live there on a different residential lot in town (this is temporary housing, it doesn't matter where / what it is)

For this tutorial, I'm going to be using The Adventurer's Guild dive bar as an example, & I want my two sims to live there: Marlon & Gil - Marlon will be tending the bar and Gil will just be living on the lot without any specific role

Your business doesn't have to be a bar, I'm just using that for the purposes of this tutorial - You can add residents to any community lot type, someone on the NRAAS forums even suggested adding 'homeless' sims as residents of community parks which would be fun for a rags-to-riches challenge! - other examples include: a bakery, personal training gym, savvy sellers shop, a nectary etc. etc.

Now everything is placed, you need to alter some settings over in the NRAAS MasterController main menu to set things up

Click on a computer or city hall to bring up the NRAAS MC Menu:

NRAAS -> MasterController -> Settings

'Allow Add Sim on Community Lots' is set to false by default, click on it -> change it to true

Click the checkmark & exit out of the NRAAS MC Menu

Go back to your community lot, click on the building and bring up:

NRAAS -> MasterController

At the top of this menu, there should now be an option to 'Add Sim' (as there usually only is on residential lots)

Click 'Add Sim' and then you can either filter by sim type OR just click 'Test Full Family' to find your sims on a list of all the townies - once you've found them, select their portraits and press the checkmark to exit the menu

I recommend resetting the sims & the lot once you've done this, your sims should now be residents of the community lot of your choice! You can keep them as the active household (although I haven't playtested this) or just have them as non-active families who are meant to own businesses around town

Part 2: Giving sims Functional Roles

I'd like to go one step further and have Marlon be the functional bartender for this lot, for this part you will need NRAAS Register (linked above)

There are two ways to do this:

1. If it is within working hours (for my dive that's 11AM - 3AM, you can check your lot's hours in map view), click on the bar object (or whatever role object you want, such as the industrial oven / cash register etc.) and choose

NRAAS -> Register -> Select

This will bring up the same sim selection menu as before, just choose your sim out of the list

They'll now be the functional bartender / role sim for that object!

However, this menu may not show up for various reasons, the main one being if it's not within working hours for the lot - there's another way to assign your sim if that is the case:

2. Go through the main NRAAS Register menu - click on City Hall or a computer to bring it up

NRAAS -> Register -> Find Empty Roles

As long as you haven't pressed play on the game since you placed your community lot, it will not have anyone assigned to the object yet, and it will show up under this menu as an empty role you can fill with your sim (through the sim selection menu again)

If the object does already have a sim assigned to it, you need to find whoever the sim is and remove them from that role:

I suggest just waiting until it is working hours & the sim shows up for work, then click on them & choose

NRAAS -> MasterController -> Intermediate -> Remove Role

You need MasterController cheats for this 'Intermediate' menu to show up!

This should then free up the object for you to add your sim to it through either of the previous methods - KEEP YOUR GAME PAUSED while you do this so no one else gets assigned to it before you're able to assign your own sim!

And that's everything!

Have fun with your functional residential businesses - as always if you have any further questions leave a comment or send me an ask and I will try and help 🥰🥰

Big thanks again to the NRAAS Forums & MTS Threads for this info, I'm just compiling what I found online as I had no idea this was a feature and figured it might be useful for others to know too!

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 4: The Deal (Warning: this chapter will feature violence. Read at your own risk)

A/N: had free time this week to produce this. Next week is chock full of tests and midterms, so this’ll probably be the last chapter for some time. Enjoy! Also, I’m sorry to those who asked to be added to the tag list and weren’t. I tried to add many of you, but Tumblr wasn’t able to find your blog for whatever reason.

When you open your eyes, darkness goes on forever in all directions, the only thing you can see is yourself. Where are you and how did you get here?

“Hello,” you call out, hoping someone is nearby to hear you, not caring who hears you just as long as someone comes to you. “Is there anyone here?”

Nothing, which you expected, but you had hoped against reality that someone was here… wherever here is. The cold air surges through your body and you shiver, your teeth chattering, echoing in the void.

“What happened,” you ask yourself. “How’d I get here?”

Just then, your memory kicks in and images and words assault your mind all at once: walking through the East End, the three thugs, the dirty shack in the middle of the woods you had been dragged to, and—

“Oh my god,” you say as the final memory flashes before your eyes. “They killed me.”

That’s right, the flash of the muzzle and the sound of the gunshot still rattling in your head. And if you think hard enough, you can vaguely remember falling to the floor after the bullet entered your head.

“Wait,” you say, realizing something very important. “If they shot me, then why am I here?”

Sure, you aren’t religious (all beliefs in a just and loving god died after you lost your Momma and was forced to live in an abusive and neglectful household for thirteen years), but this dark and neverending void is a far cry from the bright and golden imagery that’s always been associated with heaven. And this sure isn’t the fire and brimstone that comes to mind when you think of hell. So, is this purgatory? Or limbo? You never could keep the two straight.

Is this your fate? To spend the rest of your afterlife alone in this abyss? Why couldn’t you just cease altogether? Was it too much to ask that you just close your eyes and never wake from your eternal slumber?

You realize you’re crying and you’re amazed that after crying so much throughout your life, you still have plenty of tears to shed, even in the afterlife. But that’s been your lot in life since you lost Momma: to be the world’s punching bag.

“Such powerful emotions,” a familiar voice says.

You look up in shock and see your Momma, looking exactly the same as the day she was taken from you.

“Momma,” you exclaim, rushing to her and embracing her, squeezing her as hard as your arms will allow, afraid that if you let go, she’ll disappear.

“This form brings out such joy, sadness, and loss in you,” she says. “Feelings from someone alive are far more vibrant than from someone deceased.”

“What,” you asks, looking up at her in confusion, but when you do, it’s not your Momma you see looking down at you, but Bruce. You let go of the man as quick as you can and put a bit of distance between the two of you.

“What did you do to my Momma, you son of a bitch,” you shout in disgust.

“This form brings out such anger, pain, and hatred in you,” Bruce says, looking you up and down as if dissecting you like a damn lab experiment. “How interesting.”

“What the hell are you talking about? How’d you get here and what did you do to Momma?”

“And it’s not just this form.” You see movement all around you and in perfect unison, the other members of the Wayne Family appear from the void. “You hold these forms in equal amounts of hatred and contempt.”

“You deem this one a failure,” Bruce says.

“This one a hypocrite,” Dick says.

“This one a brute,” Jason says.

“This one a know-it-all,” Tim says.

“This one a stranger,” Barbara says.

“This one annoying,” Stephanie says, before turning to Cassandra. “And while you’ve never heard that one speak, you deem her a freak.”

“And you deem this one a monster,” Damian says. He gestures to Bruce. “You hate this form and that one in equal measure, far surpassing the others.”

You see another figure step out of the void and when you make out the face, it’s Alfred. You feel relief surge through your body, happy to see the butler; if there’s anyone who you can depend on, it’s him.

“While this one serves the others, you hold great respect for this form,” Alfred says. “Although, you hold a not insignificant amount of resentment towards him.”

Your heart skips a little at the accusation. No, you love the man, who took the place of a father when Bruce failed to fill the void left by your Momma’s death; sure, you’ve had the occasional thought that if the man was given a choice between you and them, he’d choose them over you since he’s always helping them, but he’s always been there for you since day one!

“No,” you say, pleading with the man. “Alfred, I don’t!”

“But you do,” the butler responds. “According to you, he is the true master of your prison, but instead of using his power to make them acknowledge your existence, he allows them to continue parading through Gotham, fighting criminals.”

“You also believe all these forms belong in Arkham,” Bruce adds. “And that you wish to be the one to subject them to electroshock therapy.”

You finally realize that something’s wrong here. All of them have never been in your presence long enough for you to say how you feel about them (not that they’d care, anyway) and you’ve never told Alfred how you often daydream of locking them away in Gotham, strapping them to metal chairs, and flipping the switch to send hundreds of volts through their skulls, hoping to shock them into being decent human beings. All this has been kept in your head for well over a decade.

So, how the hell did they know all this?

“You’re not them, are you?”

“No,” Not-Bruce answers. “We only took the forms of those you see before you.”

“Then who the fuck are you,” you growl. “And where the fuck am I?”

“We have no name,” Not-Alfred says.

“We are one, and yet we are many,” Not-Damian finishes.

“It is impossible to define a being such as us,” Not-Jason chimes in.

“Alright, that doesn’t answer my question,” you mutter to yourself, but say it loud enough for them to hear. “Then answer me this: where am I? The last thing I remember was being shot by three thugs.”

“Yes, we know of your attack,” Not-Stephanie says.

“As for your question, we are appearing to you in your mind,” Not-Bruce says.

“My mind,” you exclaim. “How?”

“When you appeared to us, we reached out and established a link with you,” Not-Tim explains. “It is from there that we were able to peer into your mind and see your memories.”

“My memories,” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Yes,” Not-Damian responds. “Through your memories, we saw these forms and assumed them. We thought it would be more preferable for you to speak to us if we took the appearance of the people who have the most influence on your life.”

“If you looked through my memories, then you should know I want nothing to do with any of them,” you snap at them.

“We know now that we were in error,” Not-Bruce responds, a ghost of a smile gracing his face. “We owe you many thanks. Never before have we been put into a situation where have known the sensation of being incorrect. We will ponder this experience for years to come.”

“So, what do you really look like.”

All of them look at one another, unsure how to answer your question.

“We are not sure if you wish to see our true form,” Not-Alfred responds.

“While you are the first sentient being we’ve interacted with in our entire existence, we know that our true form is something many of your kind would consider… terrifying,” Not-Stephanie adds.

“I don’t care,” you snap. “I’m not talking to any of you while you look like this and I sure as hell don’t want you taking Momma’s form! And if we’re going to talk, we’re gonna do it face to face!”

“Very well,” Not-Bruce acquiesces.

And with that, everything fades to black and for a moment, you’re scared you’ll be left here in the dark by yourself again. Maybe you should’ve let them stay like that.

Just then, above you, you see an odd red glow. You look up and you feel your blood freeze, your heart stop, and the air catches in your lungs. Above you is a giant mass of red, bioluminescent flesh hanging from a cave ceiling, thick black tendrils extruding from it and digging deep into the surrounding rock, allowing it to remain suspended in the cavern. And if that didn’t freak you out enough, you can see the flesh obviously resembles the shape of a fetus in the fetal position. This thing looks like something out of an H.P. Lovecraft novel.

“Holy shit,” is all you can say.

“We told you you would not approve of our true form,” it says, its voice beaming directly into your mind.

“What are you,” you ask, still awestruck at the sight before you.

“We are have no name,” it responds. “But, with the knowledge we have accumulated over the centuries, we suppose you can call us the Megamycete.”

“Megamycete?”

“Yes, we are a supercolony of sentient fungus that has existed for over four-hundred years.”

“Four-hundred years? That’s as long as Gotham’s been around.”

“We have existed as the city above. When its founders first arrived, we were nothing more than a collection of small, independent and unaware colonies of mold. Not long after the first buildings were built, an earthquake shook the area and revealed something we now know as a ‘Lazarus Pit,’ a pool of green, luminescent liquid that possesses remarkable restorative properties, and the colonies that would become us were plunged into it.”

“And this pit made you the way that you are?”

“The pit made us aware, but it did not give us our intelligence. With our enhanced capabilities, we were able to spread out our roots beyond the mountain. Not long after, we discovered the corpses of the first of Gotham’s citizens, buried after they drew their last breath; when our roots came into contact with their bodies, we found we had the ability to archive the knowledge, memories, and even DNA of the deceased. We became obsessed with growing our archive, so as Gotham grew over the years, so did our roots; overtime, we archived hundreds of its deceased, increasing our intelligence and knowledge of the outside world. Now, our roots touch every part of this city, becoming one with it, not only archiving the remains of its living, but seeing and hearing everything that goes on within its boundaries.”

“So,” you say, your mouth becoming dry at your newfound knowledge. “You’re like some fungal god?”

“While we know many of your kind may consider a being such as us god, we hold no illusion of being a divine entity. We think of ourselves as an immortal observer.”

As you attempt to process this information, your mind brings something to your attention and you feel your heart stop when you realize it. You really don’t want to know the answer, but there’s that damn stubborn part of you that has… no, it needs to know.

“So,” you begin, trying to summon the courage to ask your question. “Earlier, you said all of this is going on in my head, right?”

“Yes, our roots were able to establish a link with you and allow us to convene with you in your mind.”

“So, if we’re in my head right now, where’s me? I mean, my body?”

Although the Megamycete doesn’t have eyes, nor does it turn anything that resembles a head, you can feel it shift its awareness to the side, as if looking at something. You feel yourself break into a cold sweat as you slowly turn your head to the left, wondering what exactly you’re going to find.

And when you do, your greeted by a sight that makes you feel as if the world around you had crumbled away and you’ve been left behind to float in the void left behind: you, lying in a mess of tendrils composed of mold, broken, battered, and bloody; your limbs lying in directions they’re definitely not supposed to be in, your eyes glazed over, and a gaping bullet hole in your left temple.

“Oh my god,” you shout, utterly horrified at the sight before you. “Oh my god!”

“We saw the torture those three criminals subjected you to. Their leader was quite thorough in inflicting damage.”

“So that’s it, huh?” While this is all just some projection in your head, you feel like you’re hyperventilating. “This is how it ends: being eaten by some sentient mushroom and becoming a part of it? Doomed to spend the rest of eternity tethered to this damn city? I survive in a place where you’re likely to be killed by some trigger-happy murder clown and his psycho-ass whore while getting your mail and some two-bit thug is what does me in?”

“If you look closer, you will find that you are still alive.”

You practically snap your head to look back at your body and sure enough, you can see your chest moving up and down. It may not be much, but it’s there.

“I’m alive,” you ask, shocked at the sight of you breathing.

“You still live,” it answers back. “Your life force is low, but still there.”

“But how? He shot me in the head and then threw me down here! People don’t live after something like that!”

“While a gunshot to the head is normally fatal, our archive shows us two revelations: that the bullet did not go through your brain, but graze it and that the bullet used was of a lower caliber. While the wound was grievous, you still had a chance of surviving it. As for the fall into our chamber, your body was caught onto our roots as it fell, slowing it down and allowing it to land with diminished force.”

“But I’m still going to die, right?”

“Yes,” it answers, seemingly sympathetic. “If you were in a proper hospital, you could recover, but right now, your body is slowly shutting down. By the time anyone found you, you would long be deceased.”

So, you survive attempted murder, but you’ll still die in the end.

“Fuck,” you mutter. “Wasn’t the end I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind for your death,” the Megamycete asks.

“Shouldn’t you know what i had in mind for my death?”

“We do, but our knowledge shows us talking to the dying brings a form of comfort to them. Plus, this is the first time we have had the chance to interact with a living mortal. We wish to prolong the experience as much as possible.”

You chuckle at that. “I thought I would spend my final days back home in Goodsprings, sitting in the big recliner Momma bought for me. I use to spend Saturday mornings in it, eating cereal and watching cartoons.” You smile at the memory of the chair. “It was a damn good chair.”

“We see it, a brown cushioned seat, perfect for watching television or reading books.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Would’ve been perfect to spend my last days in.”

“Perhaps you still can.”

You look up at the Megamycete. “What?”

“We offer you a deal: we will repair your body and give you the strength to leave this chamber and rejoin the outside world.”

“And you’ll get what?”

“You become our host.”

“What,” you balk. “Host?”

“Yes, we will entangle ourselves with your very being, becoming as one.”

“And why the hell would I agree to that,” you exclaim. “You fix my body just to take it over? No deal!”

“You misunderstand. We will not override your control over your body. We will be nothing more than a spectator in your life, seeing but being powerless to intervene. In addition to being restored to your former glory, you will gain access not only to our vast archive of knowledge, but gain abilities many of your kind would consider supernatural.”

That certainly cools your temper. “So, you fix me up and give me superpowers, but all you get in return is front row seats to my life. Sounds like I’m the only one benefitting from this deal.”

“On the contrary, we stand to gain just as much as you do. For over four-hundred years, we could see the outside world, but not join it. With each new corpse we archived, we began to desire a way to interact with the world firsthand and not by mere memories. You are our solution to this dilemma. Through you, we will know what it means to feel the sun on our face, or to taste the finest meals, or to hear a symphony.”

The Megamycete’s words shock you to your core. You guess if you were stuck in this cavern for four centuries and only knew of a world beyond it through memories, you’d do anything to experience it, too.

“Please, Y/N, we beg you to accept our deal. We promise everything we are, from our archive to our longevity, will be at your disposal. You will be stronger, smarter, and better than those who thought less of you. In comparison to you, they will be nothing more than mere ants.”

You’ve thought about showing the Waynes up for years, to be able to pay Jason back for that black eye, to make Tim feel like a complete idiot, and especially to make Damian feel inferior in every way possible.

“We can do that for you. With us at your side, you’ll attain a level of perfection they could never dream of. All we want is to be able to witness this firsthand.”

“Alright,” you relent. “If all you want is to go outside in exchange for making me better than them, you have a deal.”

“We thank you, Y/N,” it says, sounding incredibly happy. Relieved, even.

And with that, your world fades to black once again and when you open your eyes, you find that you’re back in your body, feelings of pain overwhelming your senses, making it hard to concentrate on the Megamycete pressing its tendrils into you. You watch in total awe as the giant, fetus-like mass that is the Megamycete begin to shrink and when you look down where the tendrils are embedded in your skin, you can see a black substance being injected into under your skin. The more of the substance being pumped into your body, the smaller the Megamycete gets.

That’s when you feel weird all over, like every cell in your body is transforming into something else. While not painful, per se, it’s an incredibly odd sensation.

(Your body is becoming one with our mold,) you hear the Megamycete explain in your head. (Not only will it repair the damage that was done to you, you will find that you are far more durable than any mere mortal and have the ability to change your form into any that is stored in our archive, both man or beast.)

“Wait, you’re saying I can shapeshift?”

(If that is what you wish to call our mimetic abilities, then yes, you may “shapeshift.”)

When the last of the mold was transferred to you, you find your body stitching itself up and the incredible pain you were in fading fast, like it was never there. You see a puddle of water lying nearby and when you look in it, you see that all your injuries are gone, even the scar on your left check that Damian gave you three years ago. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it never happened at all.

And not only do you look better, you feel better! You wouldn’t say you were the healthiest person ever, but you tried to stay somewhere in between active and sedentary; sure you weren’t going to be running any marathons, but you were able to climb the many stairwells at school when the elevator took too long. Now, however, you felt like you could run and win a marathon, or climb up a mountain without climbing gear, or swim the English Channel during a hurricane! And you didn’t feel better physically, but intellectually as well! Gotham, for all it many flaws, has attracted the best artists, architects, doctors, engineers, musicians, scientists, and more; you feel your mind being rushed with the knowledge and memories of countless people throughout the ages, ranging from the city’s early days to now. Hell, you even have access to the memories and knowledge of some of Bruce’s greatest employees, giving you knowledge on much on Wayne Enterprises’ tech and projects that he’s spared no expense in keeping under wraps. Maybe you can get a pretty penny from Lex Corp in exchange for this information since everyone knows Bruce and Lex are bitter rivals and are constantly trying to one-up each other, with Bruce, unfortunately, often being the winner in their battles to develop the next technological development.

“I feel like I could run circles around Einstein,” you laugh, completely blown away with your newfound intellect. Right now, you feel like you could write a symphony that would make Beethoven feel inadequate while at the same time painting a masterpiece that would eclipse the Mona Lisa and designing a fusion reactor capable of powering the entire country. You look around the cavern, looking and not seeing a way out. “Now how do I get out of here?”

(There is a passage directly above you.) You look up to see a big hole in the chamber’s ceiling. (That is how you ended up here when those three threw you in here. Our archives have absorbed many of Gotham’s birds. Any one of them should give you the power to fly out of the chamber.)

The mention of the three thugs remind you of your stolen pen and Game Boy, which then fills you with rage. You’ve never liked thieves and the thought of your Momma’s treasured pen and your gift from your thoughtful boss in the hands of such lowlifes gives you even more of a reason to hate them. By now, they could be anywhere, maybe even outside of the city for fear of your disappearance being reported (mostly by Alfred, the only person left in Gotham who would give a damn).

(Remember our roots span all of Gotham,) the Megamycete says. (Through them, we have seen and heard all that occurs in this city. As our host, you now have access to them. All you have to do is reach out and think of who you wish to find.)

Following its advice, you reach out and feel the roots that entangle Gotham like a spider web. As soon as you do, you’re overwhelmed with sights and sounds from every corner of the city.

(Focus on the three,) it advises you. (If you concentrate on who exactly you want, the roots will do the rest.)

It takes some doing, but you manage to push aside the multitude of people that are in your mind’s eye and focus on the three kidnappers. You’re taken across the city, rushing past the many buildings and stopping at some seedy building in Coventry. Your newfound knowledge of Gotham tells you this is the My Alibi bar, a place for Gotham’s criminals to get together to eat, trade gossip, and find work.

With your destination known, you search through the Megamycete’s archives and something to get you out of here and find something that should do the job: crows. Your body manifests into a murder of crows and takes off in perfect unison, keeping in formation. It’s extremely weird to be a bunch of birds; you know that what was once your body is now numerous birds, but while you’re multiple birds, you’re still one person. You can see through all their eyes all at once and change their flight path and they actually do it like it’s nothing. In a matter of seconds, you’re on the surface, flying above the forest and looking down at the twinkling lights of Gotham’s buildings.

“You know, from above, that cesspit actually looks kinda pretty.”

(We thank you, Y/N. We never thought we would be able to experience such a sight firsthand, but here we are. Now, shall we retrieve your stolen property?)

The crows fly through the city, zipping past the buildings and as you do, you realize that you’ve just fulfilled a dream you’ve had since you were ten-years-old: to fly like a bird. When you realized that the Waynes were awful and all you wanted was to go back to Goodsprings— to take flight like a bird and leave this city and the Waynes behind. Now, you can turn into a flock of birds, or even grow a pair of wings, and fly all the way to Nevada!

Eventually, you reach the My Alibi club, which looks even worse in person than through the Megamycete’s roots. You land on a nearby building’s rooftop and see the only security for the entire building is a single bouncer. You command the birds to land near the bouncer and when they do, they come together and reform your body, but instead of revealing you, you command hardened black mold to cover your body, not wanting your face to be seen by anyone.

What’s going to happen here needs to not get back to you.

“What,” the bouncer stutters. “What the hell?”

“Leave,” is all you say.

The bouncer says nothing before he runs away.

(Are you ready,) the Megamycete asks as you near the door. (We highly doubt your three would-be murderers will take your return likely. Nor will they likely be in a hurry to return your property. You may have to resort to violence.)

“Good,” is all you say as you enter.

The noise coming from patrons’ conversations, drinking, and arguing comes to an end when you walk inside. A quick look around and you can tell this place lives up to its reputation of being for Gotham’s criminal element; everyone here looks like they’ve done time and will probably spend their last days in prison.

And in the back corner sit your targets, looking at you with their table filled with glasses and plates of food. The sight fills you with rage; they shot you in the head and threw you in a ditch and here they are, eating and drinking like they just got off work and wanted something to take the edge off. And what really pisses you off is seeing the one called Butch holding your Game Boy like it was his right!

“I’m here for them,” you say, pointing to your quarry. “The rest of you are free to go.”

“Up yours, freak,” some shithead shouts back, pulling out a revolver and fires it three times. The bullets hit the hardened mold and fall to the floor, looking like crushed tin cans rather than deadly projectiles. “What the hell?”

He goes to fire it again, but you raise your hand and a tendril emerges from it, piercing the man’s heart; he drops his gun and lets out a disgusting gurgle, blood dripping from it and pooling on the floor, before falling silent, dead.

While most of your mind is disturbed at the sight; you’ve just killed a man, his blood literally on your hands, but you can’t deny there’s a part of you that’s not saddened by your actions. After all, he did try to kill you and if he was in a place like this, chances are he was a piece of shit and Gotham’s a slightly better place for his passing.

For a moment, everyone is paralyzed at what just happened. The place is so quiet, a pin could drop and it would deafen everyone. Then, everyone breaks out of their stupor, practically all of them pulling out their guns and begin shooting at you, but just like their friend here found out, their bullets are useless against you. Numerous tendrils emerge from all over your body and rush at them; some of them empaling them, others wrap around their throats and crush them, while the rest just whip them with enough force to break them in two. One by one, they fall until it’s just you and your prey.

“Look, man,” you killer whimpers as you draw closer to him. “I don’t know what you want, but you can take what we have. Tom, hand him the bag.”

The other one throws a bag, which lands at your feet; you look down to see it’s your book bag. You pick it up and open it to find everything still inside, from your binder and notebooks to your phone and the gift box Mr. Chen gave you. You’re relieved to know that you’re not missing any of your school stuff and don’t have to go looking for anything or replace it. You are, however, missing all the money from your wallet, but a look on the table shows where it went to. But, you’re still missing the most important thing: your Momma’s pen.

“Here, take this, too.” The leader takes the Game boy from Butch and holds it out to you, which you snatch from him, reveling in the fear in his eyes as you did, and carefully place it inside.

That just leaves one last order of business. You extend two tendrils and wrap them around the leaders throat and hold him up from the floor, his legs kicking around, trying and failing to get him back on the ground; his arms pathetically wrap around the tendrils, trying to crate some room for him to breath, and his mouth is gaping like a fish out of water, trying to get any sort of air. His cohorts go to say something, but a quick glare from you shuts them up. You bring the man close to you until you can see your reflection in his eyes, which are wide and full of terror, and open your mold mask, revealing your identity to them and based off their expressions, all three men could probably crush coal into diamonds with their sphincters.

“Holy shit,” Butch whispers, his face showing his complete disbelief.

“It’s that kid,” Tom adds, his face mirroring his partner. “But, we killed him, right?”

“My pen,” you say, looking at this piece of human filth with complete contempt. “Where is it?”

You loosen your grip to allow him to speak.

“My pocket,” he says. “It’s in my pocket. All the pawn shops were closed, so I wasn’t able to sell it.”

While you’re happy that your beloved pen is not is some sleazy pawn shop’s display window, you’re utterly disgusted at the thought of this man’s audacity to think he had the right to sell your most treasured possession like its some worthless trinket. A small tendril emerges form your shoulder and searches the man’s pocket and pulls out that beautiful gold ink pen. You have it deliver it to your left hand, which is empty as your right hand is being used to hold the man in front of you, and hold onto it with a vice-like grip.

(Not even death could separate you from your Mother’s memento,) the Megamycete states. (We are impressed at your dedication to it.)

“Look, we’re sorry for what we did to you,” the man pathetically whimpers. “Really, we are.”

“Did you know this was my Momma’s pen,” you ask as if the man had not just said something. “I lost her on my sixth birthday and was forced to leave my home in Goodsprings to live here. This pen is the only thing of hers I was able to bring with me. And you had felt like you had the right to take something I treasure more than anything else in the world and pawn it off for some petty cash.”

“We didn’t know, man,” Butch responds, now realizing the depth of his mistakes. “We’re sorry.”

“We promise we won’t tell anyone about this,” Tom adds. “Just let us go and you’ll never see or hear from us ever again.”

“You’re right, we won’t see each other again, but wouldn’t you like to know who I was forced to live with?” The three of them pathetically nod in unison and you have to fight the urge to laugh. A few hours ago, these men were looking down at you, sure they could do anything they wanted, but now, here you are, far above them in the food chain. “I was forced to live with my father, Bruce Wayne.”

“But he said—“ the leader starts to say, but you cut him off.

“That bastard has ignored me since I moved in with him,” you shout, shutting him up. “I was his first biological son, but he’s completely forgotten about me!” You take a deep breath. Just the mention of him brings out the worst in you. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t need him. Just like you don’t need your lives.”

And with that, you rip the man’s head clean off his shoulders, not even giving him the chance to realize his fate before killing him. You release the body and both it and his head crumple to the floor in a heap of lifeless meat and to further invoke fear in them, you stomp on the head while looking at them, the thing making a wet splat sound. The other two shout, but you cut them down with ease, tendrils emerging from your back and wrapping around their heads and crush them with ease, showering the floor in their blood and grey matter. Their bodies fall to the floor and flail around for a while before finally stopping.

(Well done,) the Megamycete praises. (You cut down these criminals and made Gotham safer faster than any police officer we have known. Perhaps the local police should seek out your services?)

“Not gonna happen,” you laugh as you walk out of the bar with your backpack in hand. “I have no intention of staying in this place. Once I graduate, I’m going back home.”

(Yes, Goodsprings. A small town located in Nevada. We look forward to experiencing your return to your point of origin.)

And with that, you manifest a pair of black wings on your back and take flight, flying far above the city’s skyscrapers, so hopefully you’re safe from detection. In just a few minutes, you’ve flown from Burnley Island to Bristol, something that should’ve taken almost an hour by car. Thanks to the Megamycete’s roots, you can see the Bats still out and about throughout Gotham, so you don’t have to worry about running into any of them while hurrying into your room.

You land down the street to avoid being picked up by the security cameras (Bruce’s picture is the definition of paranoid based on the amount of cameras in both the estate and in the house itself) and walk the rest of the way there. Normally, walking down the marathon-length driveway to the manor when coming home from work, but his time, you cross the distance like it’s nothing; in fact, you feel like you can do this another dozen times and still feel energized.

But, while you’re physically invigorated, you’re mentally drained and all you want to do is curl up and bed and pass out; you enter Wayne Manor and hurry to your room, never more thankful for being far from the rest of the household than you are now. While you’ve been flying under the radar of Gotham’s vigilantes for years now, you’ll afraid that even they won’t be able to ignore you when they found out about your newly gained powers. During your stay here, you’ve listened to their conversations when they thought you weren’t around and you know that while they distrust everyone (even each other based on the fact that no one seems to be allowed to have secrets), they distrust those with superpowers the most. Two years you listened in on a conversation between Bruce and Superman, who offered to help him during a time when many of Arkham’s most dangerous patients escaped all at once, and Bruce said in a tone that felt like sandpaper being dragged across your face: “Gotham’s off limits to metas. You step one foot in my city and you’ll regret it.”

Honestly, you’re confident that Bruce is only on this planet to be the biggest asshole who ever lived. He treats his first biological son like shit, he raises his “true children” to be as paranoid and pessimistic as him, and he threatens anyone who offers his sorry ass any kind of help. It seems to you that the only one who should’ve died that night in Crime Alley is Bruce.

You shove the man’s image in your head aside. Before tonight, he wasn’t important to you, but now, he’s irrelevant. You never needed him before, but now, you really don’t. With the Megamycete, you have everything you need.

Just then, your phone rings, bringing you out of your thoughts. You fish out your phone and look on the screen to see Alfred’s caller ID staring back at you.

“Hello,” you answer.

“Master Y/N, are you alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because it’s over an hour since you should’ve called me since getting off work.” You wince when you peek at your phone and see you’re overdue your nightly call with the butler. “So, I ask again: are you alright?” Based off his tone, he’s not going to accept “I’m fine” as an answer.

“Yeah, I am.” You quickly think of anything that could explain your tardiness and realize something: the best lie is an obvious truth. You just need to modify it a bit. “I just stayed behind to tell Mr. Chen goodbye. Today was the last day for the store because his daughter said Gotham was too dangerous for him to stay by himself, so she brought him to her home today.”

“Oh, Master Y/N, I’m sorry.” His tone says he’s bought it and you actually feel bad lying to the man you’ve come to see as a father figure. “I know how much you loved working there. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I will be. I’m gonna miss him.”

“Of course you will, he was a good man and you were the best employee he could ask for. Can I do anything for you? I’m halfway through with my vacation, perhaps I should—“

“No,” you cut the man off. “You don’t have to come back early, Alfred.” With everything that’s happened today, you need some time to prepare yourself before facing Alfred in person again. It would be a disaster for you to expose yourself as some form of metahuman in front of him. Plus, he deserves to have all his allotted vacation time. “I’ll be fine, really.”

“If you’re sure,” he says, obviously wanting to say more, but doesn’t press the issue. “I’ll let you go, I’m sure you’re tired and you need your rest. Please make sure you catch up on your sleep I’m sure you’ve missed this week during your spring break.”

“I will, Alfred, don’t worry. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Very good, Master Y/N. Good night, my boy.”

“Good night.”

You hang up and let out a sigh of relief, glad he bought it.

(You say you trust the butler with your life, but keep the events of tonight a secret from him. Why?)

“Because Alfred’s highly protective and would most likely steal a boat and sail back to Gotham within an hour if I told him I was kidnapped. And if he knew about you, he’d probably drag me to a hospital and have every last trace of mold surgically removed.”

(We do not wish for that to happen.)

“Me neither, bud. You know, after tonight, I think we’re gonna do great things together.”

(We agree. Now, heed the words of your butler and rest. Tonight was very eventful for you. It would not do well for our host to shirk in his bodily needs.)

You chuckle and strip down to your boxers before climbing into bed. Not long after you get comfy, you feel yourself drift off to sleep. For the first time ever, you’re actually looking forward to waking up in Gotham.

Bruce hears Jason whistle at the sight, but says nothing in favor of studying the carnage inside the My Alibi bar. Bodies are scattered everywhere around the establishment, some are relatively intact while others look like they were ripped in half.

“Looks like someone had fun here,” Jim says as he approaches him, Jason, and Damian. “What do you think?”

“Looks like someone had a score to settle,” he responds to the police commissioner. He motions to the remains of three men crowded together in a corner of the bar with their heads missing; two of the heads are near the rest of their bodies while the third has been reduced to a fine red paste. “Especially these three. Based on how they were killed, I’d guess whoever did this was after them.”

“Doesn’t look like Joker’s handiwork,” Jim adds. “No one here’s smiling and the place is devoid of murderous gag toys.”

No, this is definitely not the clown’s MO. Neither does it match the MO of anyone currently missing from Arkham. The only one he could think of that could rip apart and crush some of the victims is Bane, but that doesn’t explain why the remaining victims are impaled; plus, the giant is still locked up in Arkham’s high-security ward. So, this can only mean one thing.

“This is definitely the work of someone new,” he says, bending down to study the squashed head. “And with this being the only scene we know of, this was their first time killing.”

Whoever did this is highly dangerous and needs to be stopped and fast before even more people get hurt. Looks like he and his family are going to have their hands full for the foreseeable future.

Tag List: @space1crow @bat1212 @minkyungseokie @nosyrobin @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @paolexsstuff @c0l1fl0r @starryperson @lunaluz432 @orbitingtraveler @roseytheteacup @bundlofcigars @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @greatwhisperspaper

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (2/2) | sharing the cookie

୨ৎ : featuring : kimi antonelli, ollie bearman, yuki tsunoda, isack hadjar, and liam lawson (click here for part one) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : your f1 boyfriend agrees to try the viral cookie challenge with your toddler (or cousin...) only to be hilariously betrayed (inspo: tiktok - click for reference)

୨ৎ : genre : comedy ୨ৎ : word count : 1230

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : its quali time.. feeling nervous gas

ʚ・kimi antonelli

“this is gonna be a disaster,” kimi whispered, side-eyeing the plate in front of his tiny cousin.

you nudged him gently. “you don’t know that. maybe she’ll surprise you.”

he leaned closer, lips at your ear. “she bit me over a stuffed bunny last week.”

fair point.

you hit record.

his little cousin sat on the floor with two big cookies in her hands, practically vibrating with excitement. kimi sat across from her on the carpet, blank plate in front of him, hands resting on his knees like he was at a press conference.

"wow," he said dryly, glancing at her cookies. "they didn’t give me any. that’s sad."

she blinked at him.

then blinked again.

then took a giant bite out of one cookie, and held the other up dramatically.

“for your girlfriend,” she said, proudly handing it straight to you.

you barely held back a laugh. “wait, not for kimi?”

she shook her head. “she’s pretty. you can have mine.”

kimi turned to look at you, fully offended. “excuse me?”

“guess i win,” you said, biting into the cookie like it was a trophy.

kimi held out his hand to his cousin. “i thought we were a team.”

she shrugged. “you have a car. you don’t need cookies.”

you doubled over laughing while kimi sat there, blinking in actual betrayal.

“you guys are evil,” he muttered. “both of you.”

later, he was caught sneaking a cookie out of the jar and whispering, “this one’s just for me. no small traitors allowed.”

ʚ・ollie bearman

“i don’t think i’ve ever been this nervous around a child,” ollie whispered to you as your little cousin climbed onto the couch with his plate of cookies.

“he’s obsessed with you,” you whispered back. “play it cool or he’ll sense it.”

you hit record.

your cousin sat proudly in the middle — one cookie in each hand — glancing between you and ollie like this was some kind of test.

ollie gave him his best sad eyes. “wait… i didn’t get any cookies?”

your cousin blinked. looked at the cookies. then at ollie.

“why not?” he asked, genuinely confused. “aren’t you a grown-up?”

you tried not to snort. ollie blinked. “well, yes, but…”

your cousin nodded solemnly, fully taking over the situation. “okay. you can have one.”

ollie looked shocked. “really?”

“but only,” your cousin said, holding a tiny finger up, “because you’re a racer. and you drive the super fast cars.” then he leaned closer and added in a whisper, “they go like vroom vroom.”

you lost it behind the camera.

ollie took the cookie carefully, like it was an award. “wow. that means a lot. thank you.”

your cousin nodded, very serious. “you’re my third favorite.”

ollie paused. “third?!”

he shrugged. “max goes faster. and my dad says lewis is a legend.”

ollie gasped. “you gave me a pity cookie.”

your cousin patted his knee. “still better than nothing, bearman.”

you were on the floor at that point, and ollie was left holding his single, hard-earned cookie like a true motorsport warrior.

ʚ・yuki tsunoda

“you really think he’s going to share?” you whispered as you handed your son two cookies and yuki none.

yuki didn’t even blink. “absolutely not. he’s me.”

you hit record.

yuki sat at the kitchen island, trying to look casual while your three-year-old climbed into the seat beside him, holding two slightly melty chocolate chip cookies like they were gold bars.

“wow,” yuki said with a dramatic sigh. “they only gave you cookies?”

his son looked at him. then at the cookies. then back at him.

yuki leaned in, hopeful. “you don’t think papa deserves one?”

the toddler narrowed his eyes.

then — and this was so tsunoda family it hurt — he said, “you’re a grown-up. you can buy your own.”

you nearly dropped your phone from laughing.

yuki blinked, fully offended. “what?! i feed you every day!”

the kid shrugged. “i eat nuggets. you don’t even cook that.”

yuki gasped. “the betrayal.”

a pause.

then, with the tiniest sigh imaginable, your son broke one cookie in half and handed yuki the smaller piece.

“okay. you can have this. but next time, i want a bite of your ramen.”

yuki took it like it was a peace treaty. “deal. but only one bite.”

your son nodded solemnly. “i’m growing. i need snacks.”

yuki looked directly into the camera. “i’m raising a villain. a tiny, polite villain.”

ʚ・isack hadjar

“they’re cute,” isack whispered, watching your 5-year-old cousin march in with two chocolate chip cookies like they were briefcases full of power. “but i don’t trust them.”

you snorted. “it’s a cookie challenge, not a mafia standoff.”

“same energy.”

you hit record.

isack sat cross-legged on the floor while your cousin plopped down across from him, cookies in hand, eyes narrowed like they were sizing up a business deal.

“wow,” isack said, feigning drama. “you got two cookies?”

his cousin nodded, slowly. “yup.”

“crazy. they gave me… none. not even a crumb.”

your cousin paused. then raised an eyebrow. “do you want one?”

isack blinked. “…yes?”

“okay,” the kid said, “but you have to do five jumping jacks.”

isack stared. “what?”

“five.”

you: already wheezing.

“are you… bartering with baked goods right now?” isack asked, genuinely baffled.

your cousin nodded like a tiny ceo. “it’s the economy.”

sighing dramatically, isack stood up and started doing half-hearted jumping jacks. “one. two. this feels like extortion. three. i hate you. four. five.”

your cousin smiled. “okay. you can have… half.”

“half the cookie after cardio?” isack muttered, taking the piece. “this is the worst gym reward system ever.”

ʚ・liam lawson

“i don’t know, she’s too sweet,” liam whispered as you handed your daughter two warm cookies and guided her toward the living room.

“that’s the point of the challenge,” you grinned. “let’s see if she’ll share with you.”

“she’d give me a kidney if i asked,” liam muttered, sinking onto the carpet. “i feel like a monster already.”

you hit record.

your daughter shuffled into the room proudly, holding the cookies with both hands, cheeks puffed with focus. she saw liam first and beamed. “papa! look!”

“ohhh, two cookies?” liam said, eyes wide in fake surprise. “that’s so many. i didn’t get any…”

she paused. looked down at both cookies. then glanced at you.

her tiny eyebrows furrowed. then, very carefully, she held out both cookies — one to liam, one to you.

“you can both have one,” she said sweetly. “i don’t need one. i already had a snack.”

liam blinked. “wait. you’re giving them both away?”

she nodded, chipper. “sharing is nice.”

you: already struggling to hold the camera steady.

liam: already looking like he might cry.

“no, no, no,” he said quickly, holding the cookie like it was made of gold. “you’re supposed to keep one, sweetheart. this is your treat.”

she smiled up at him. “but you didn’t have one. and you always give me the last bite. so now i give you the whole one.”

liam looked at you, horrified. “why would you do this challenge to me?” liam scooped his daughter into his lap immediately. “this is it. we’re retiring. i’m raising her on a farm away from the cruel world.”

your daughter giggled. “can i still have cookies on the farm?”

liam kissed her cheek. “you can have ten cookies, every day.”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[starkwlkr]

you are NOT the world champion | max & charles

in another ruby fic it’s mentioned that charles is a world champion WELL for this fic that’s not true but he still drives for ferrari …

Formula 1 posted a new youtube video

Kids test their F1 knowledge! Featuring Ruby and Mathéo Leclerc and Noah Verstappen

The official channel for Formula 1 had uploaded a youtube video with the Leclerc kids and Noah Verstappen, of course with their families permission. The kids were going to be tested on their f1 knowledge with their dads asking them questions. Ruby was sat in between Noah and Mathéo, a white table was in front of them while Max and Charles were on the ends of the table with cards in their hands.

“Okay, welcome everybody! We are here to test these kids that should know at least something about formula 1. Are you ready?” Charles began.

“Wait! What are the rules? We need rules!” Mathéo interrupted.

“Uh, if you get the question right you get a point and whoever has the most point at the end—” Charles explained but Ruby spoke up.

“Is the world champion?” She questioned.

“My papa is one! What about yours?” Noah told Ruby. Then the kids got distracted talking about how many world championships their dads have.

“My papa doesn’t have one.” Ruby replied to Noah.

“Why?”

“I think it’s because he drives a Ferrari.”

Max bursted out laughing as Charles tried to regain everyone’s attention back to the game. “Okay! Okay! Are we ready?”

“Yes!” All three kids yelled.

“Alright. First question, what team does Lewis drive for? And you have to say it right or else you don’t get the point.” Charles clarified.

“The orange one! He drives that one.” Mathéo said, but Ruby aggressively shook her head.

“No! Lewis doesn’t wear orange, Théo. Lando and Oscar do! Lewis wears cool clothes.”

“He drives for Roscoe.” Noah added. “I like Roscoe.”

Ruby gasped and turned to face Noah. “He’s so cute! I like Roscoe too!”

“Does anyone know?” Max asked the kids. The kids stayed silent. “The answers is Mercedes amg petronas formula 1 team.”

“They should change it to Roscoe formula 1 team. It sounds better.” Ruby suggested, Noah and Mathéo agreeing with her.

“I’ll let Toto know. Okay, next question. This is the easiest one ever. Who is the current world champion?” Charles asked.

“Not you.”

“You’re very funny, Ruby Jules.”

Several questions later, the kids barely had enough points. Noah had actually remembered some things that Max had told him like what where the track names and how many races there was. Ruby managed to name a couple world champions other than Max while Mathéo remembered the numbers of drivers.

“So you are all tied and this is the last question.” Max told the kids. In the distance, he saw Mick with his girlfriend walking so he called Mick over just do he could ask the final question. “We have a guest here who is going to do the honor of asking the last question.”

“Hi Mick! Hi Mick’s pretty girlfriend!” Ruby waved to the couple as they made their way to the table.

“Hey guys.” Mick high fived the kids. He then took the card from Max’s hands and saw the question. He chuckled but proceeded to ask it. “Who is the best formula 1 driver ever?”

Immediately the three kids shouted “Michael Schumacher!” which made the adults laugh.

“You all won!” Mick gave more high fives to the kids and gave back the cards. “You’re all so smart. Keep it up, okay?”

“We will! Bye Mick and his pretty girlfriend!” Noah said.

“Does that mean we’re all world champions?” Mathéo asked.

“Papa, me and Théo are world champions before you!”

[moon3verland]

｡･ﾟﾟ･Falling Into Comfort･ﾟﾟ･｡

ENHYPEN HYUNG LINE FALLING ASLEEP ON S/O'S LAP

HYUNG LINE ★ MAKNAE LINE

❥ In which Enhypen find comfort in their s/o's lap after a long day

·˚ ◌༘₊· ͟͞꒰➳ Hyung line x GN!reader GENRE! Fluff!! Tooth rotting fluff to be specific 『 ↳✧･ﾟ Warnings ; None!! 〘WC: 0.5K〙 ↳˳;; ❝ ʙᴏᴏᴋꜱʜᴇʟꜰᵕ̈೫

Lee Heeseung - Falls asleep after a long day of singing practice

Heeseung has a habit of looking at you with those soft, doe eyes before resting his head on your lap.

He mumbles something sweet like, “You’re so comfortable,” before fully settling in, his voice already heavy with sleepiness.

His hand instinctively reaches for yours, holding it loosely as if grounding himself in your presence.

As he dozes off, his breathing evens out, and you can’t help but admire the way his long lashes brush against his cheeks.

Occasionally, he lets out a soft hum or murmurs your name in his sleep, making your heart flutter.

When he wakes up, there’s a sleepy smile on his face, and he gazes at you with so much affection, you’re sure you’re his favorite comfort. MORE UNDERCUT!

Park Jay - Falls asleep while binge-watching your favorite show together

Jay hesitates at first, shyly asking, “Are you sure I can?” but his eyes light up when you pat your lap invitingly.

He sighs deeply as his head finds your lap, immediately melting into your touch like he’s been waiting for this moment all day.

As he starts to drift off, he mumbles little compliments like, “You’re the best,” or “I could get used to this,” his voice trailing into soft snores.

You’ll notice the tension leaving his body as he completely relaxes, his features softening into a serene expression.

If you gently run your fingers through his hair, he’ll let out the tiniest contented sigh, making your heart swell.

When he wakes up, he’ll give you a lopsided grin and tease, “So, do I pass the boyfriend nap test?” before pulling you into a warm hug.

Sim Jake - Falls asleep after playing with Layla in the park

Jake doesn’t even hesitate; he’ll plop down onto your lap with a playful grin and say, “This is my spot now.”

Layla will often curl up nearby, as if she’s part of the cozy little moment, her tail wagging happily.

Jake starts talking about his day while resting his head on your lap, but his words eventually slow down and trail off as sleep takes over.

He shifts slightly in his sleep, occasionally nuzzling closer to your stomach or clutching your hand like a teddy bear.

If you stroke his hair, he’ll let out the softest little whines, completely melting into your touch.

When he wakes up, his eyes are still half-lidded as he mumbles, “You’re the best pillow ever,” before pulling you down for a quick kiss, his way of saying thank you.

Park Sunghoon - Falls asleep while pretending he’s not tired

Sunghoon tries to act cool about it, casually lying down with a smirk and saying, “Don’t move. I’m comfortable here.”

But the second your fingers run through his hair, his façade melts, and his cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink.

He falls asleep almost instantly, his lips parting slightly and his brows relaxing as he leans into your touch.

Every so often, he murmurs something in his sleep, his voice soft and unintelligible but utterly adorable.

You’ll find yourself staring at his peaceful expression, his usually sharp features looking so gentle and angelic.

When he wakes up, he stretches lazily, flashing you a small, genuine smile before whispering, “Thanks for letting me stay here. I’m never leaving.”

© ★ Moon , 2024— all rights reserved to me. Please do not copy or steal my work in any way.

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