#even more unhinged than usual hm

[brandycranby]

ce characters when you've been going to bed too late (oh no now you're sleep deprived and have constant headaches)

it's me, i'm sleep deprived and have constant headaches.

steve: you won't sleep early? you scroll the interwebs even when he tells you in a very nice manner that it's lights out and time to snuggle? phone jail. you're not getting it back until the morning. "but what if there's an emergency?" well FRIDAY will have to notify you because that darn phone is going in the other room, yes he's being an old man about this but he's also squashing you like a fine weighted blanket so. there.

andy: bless his heart, he's also sleep deprived. and yet his stinky ass has the audacity to stand there with his arms folded, lecturing you on early bedtimes like you BOTH don't have splitting cluster headaches and an inability to focus. shame. go on, you're going to have to shame one another into showering and brushing teeth and getting into bed- no more emails, leave it- and finally, finally, turning the darn light off.

curtis: does this man sleep? by god he does. he has an illegally early start every morning so he goes to bed at 10:30 on the dot like an old man. that means he doesn't know that you stay up until 1, puttering about and doing whatever, tired but somehow disconnected from the ability to lay down and stop thinking. and this goes on for how long?? until he sees you frozen in the middle of the day, exhausted brain trying to catch you up on what you needed from the living room. then it's forced curfew. he points to the bed? you lay down. he's two hundred pounds, he'll make sure you stay there.

ari: another deep sleeper. you could watch a whole vlog next to him and the big lump just goes on snoring in his skivvies like an ol' bear. it's the hubris that gets you caught. a too bright scene makes you turn away and blink rapidly until the spots fade away... and you see ari staring at you, eyebrow raised, unhappy scowl underneath all that beard. ha. haha. oops. evening phone time is suspended indefinitely. it's going on the nightstand on his side and you're going under his arm, nose to pit, until you get a good night's rest.

jake: oh sweet fellow anxiety-haver, gamer, busy to-doer. of all these baes, he's the one who understands staying up for an hour longer, maybe two, just gotta finish this XML sheet or get to the next save point. but he's also an army man through and through. wakes up at 0600 hours (ew), goes for a quick run, jumps in the shower, makes breakfast all before you wake up. and you wake up slower and slower these days :(( so it's his new personal mission to stop at 11pm and scoop you up from whatever you're doing for bed time.

ransom: yes he gets up and writes in the middle of the night, sue him. it's called ✨inspiration✨ which is totally normal for a writer, it's better than writer's block and- hey! what are you doing up?? you're losing beauty sleep and he's slipping melatonin into your mouth, tucking you against his side, and rubbing slow lovely circles on your temples. you're no good to him like this, he scoffs, the house would probably get burnt down and you wouldn't notice. but he keeps tracing your eyebrows juuuuust right so you let that pass. for now.

---

get enough sleep, kids. head ouch.

#even more unhinged than usual hm #my writing #my headcanons #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #curtis everett x you #curtis everett x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x reader #jake jensen x you #jake jensen x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ce characters #steve rogers headcanon #andy barber headcanon #curtis everett headcanon #ari levinson headcanon #jake jensen headcanon #ransom drysdale headcanon #ce character headcanons

[underfaller]

Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

Pairing: Arlecchino x gn!reader

Notes: 18+ only

“You wanted to see me, My Lady?”

The woman does not answer immediately. She is sitting in front of a mahogany desk, her black streaked snowy hair hiding her expression. She wears a silver suit. A black tie adorned with a crimson Fatui brooch is wrapped around her neck. Her sharp heels rest on the desk’s surface, clicking together occasionally. Her onyx irises are focused on the riding crop that rests in her fingers. As she casually inspects it, her eyes flicker to meet your confused face. 

“So. You’ve applied for a transfer to work with another Harbinger?” 

The Knave. Arlecchino. You’ve been her underling for quite some time now. She often praised your work-- a rare occurrence for the formidable woman that often had you catching flak from her other subordinates. Still, her words often made you beam with pride. To say you hold the fourth Harbinger in high esteem is an understatement. You respect her as anyone would a superior of her caliber, but there was certainly something else--a stirring in your heart that made it increasingly hard to look your boss in the eye, lest a humiliating scarlet shade cloud your usually calm and collected face. 

It is because of this that you decided to apply to transfer as a subordinate for another Harbinger. Your little infatuation is a huge distraction to both your work and everyday life. You did not want to risk making a grievous error that may tarnish the reputation of The Knave. 

Besides, it’s best you left before she realizes your feelings. The very thought makes you want to curl up with embarrassment.  

“Yes, My Lady,” You bow as low as you can, not daring to stand straight. You did not want to meet her piercing gaze. “I apologize for such a brief notice.” 

Arlecchino stands up, strolling towards you. She circles you, inspecting you closely as you slowly straighten back up.

“That’s truly a shame. You’re one of my most capable agents. You must understand it’s quite hard to find truly competent individuals like yourself.” 

You nod. “I understand, however, I’m only transferring due to my need to move to the western side of Shneznaya to care for my aging parents.” 

“Hm.” Arlecchino pauses as if she’s pondering your words. 

“Tell me, Y/N. Do I look stupid to you?”

“What-”

Before you can finish your sentence, you find your legs kicked from under you. Before you know it, you’re lying painfully on your back against the hard wooden floor. Arlecchino’s heel rests painfully atop your chest. Her usual calm and graceful demeanor has completely changed. The red X’s in her pupils bore into your soul as she gives you a contemptuous look. At first, you think The Knave is completely enraged at you, furious that you dared to even think of leaving her side. You’ve only heard of this side of Arlecchino through whispers from her more seasoned agents-- the disturbed, unhinged persona that she only displayed for those who truly crossed her. 

You soon realize you are only half right. Her eyes are like that of a predator looking at its fresh caught prey with a hint of disappointment-- as if she wished the chase was still afoot. 

The other half was lust.

“You must think I am stupid to think I would believe such a pathetic lie.”

“I.. don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Arlecchino leans down, the spike of her heel digging painfully into your skin. You struggle, biting your lip to keep yourself from whimpering in discomfort. She looks down at you, giggling mirthlessly.   

“Did you think I would not know? That’s quite naive.” The Habinger chides. “However, to be honest, I can forgive such childish thoughts. I am also a bit charmed by you as well.”

Oh. 

So you weren’t as good at hiding your emotions as you thought. 

“That- that isn’t what this is about!” You meekly try to protest. Your futile excuse is met with another laugh, somehow more unsettling than the last. Despite knowing of her darkness when you first joined the Fatui, this is the first time you’ve ever actually felt afraid of your superior. You can feel your heart thumping painfully against the shoe on your chest. Any more pressure and she may stab right through it, leaving you a bloody mess on her office floor. You can feel your mouth dry from your fear and increasing embarrassment. 

Not going to lie, it turned you on a bit. 

“You may be good at eliminating my opposition, but you are a terrible actor. Unconvincing to me,” Arlecchino uses the riding crop to lift your chin to look into your flustered eyes. “...and unconvincing to yourself.”

“Are you going to kill me?” You blurt out. 

Arlecchino grins darkly, bending down. Her face is inches away from yours, the strands of her white hair ticking your nose. 

“Of course not,” She whispers. “That would be quite wasteful of this moment.” 

Her sharp, slender fingers caress your cheek. You can feel her cold breath on your skin.

You divert your eyes, a familiar flush painting your cheeks. 

“With all due respect, My Lady, I hardly think this is appropriate.”

“I suppose you are correct. However, lying to your superior wasn’t appropriate either, was it?” Arlecchino responds. “Should I instead punish you for that?”

“I-”

Crack. 

You cry out as the leather riding crop makes contact with your face. Fire spreads against your cheek and you look at Arlecchino with widened, shocked eyes. You try to get up, but the Harbinger is much more powerful than you. Arlecchino easily overpowers you, stradling you with her hips and pinning you to the ground with her arms painfully gripping your wrists.

“Look how pretty you are with that mark,” Arlecchino simpers, tracing the forming red welt on your cheek. “I can’t wait to make more.” 

You murmur some soft words. Being manhandled like this, staring up at Arlecchino’s beautiful face, you can’t help but feel your stomach twist in knots as heat pools in your lower body. You realize how crazy her eyes actually are when she looks at you. Her heavy, excited breaths betray her ice cold demeanor. Arlecchino presses her mouth against yours. You happily oblige, closing your eyes as you lean forward. Her hand reaches to the back of your head, tugging your locks painfully. You gasp and she uses your involuntary response to push her tongue roughly into your mouth. You try to fight back and your tongues entangle in a sloppy battle for dominance. She wins of course, leaving no part of your mouth unexplored. 

“Mmph…”

She pulls back. You both are breathing heavily now. 

Damn. Why is this actually so hot?

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to do this, Y/N. How long I’ve waited to make you mine,” Her words tingle in your ear, sending shivers down your back.  “I’ve watched you from afar, studied your every move. But you never noticed, did you? So dutiful, so responsible. Always doing just as I command. The perfect person to be my perfect pet.” 

You frown, furrowing your brows a bit. 

“I rather not be treated as a pet, My Lady.”

“Is that so? Well, fortunately for me, I was not asking,” Arlecchino’s grin returns.

“After all, I am still your boss.” Arlecchino utters. She straightens up a bit as she reaches for her tie, undoing it. Arlecchino removes it from her neck before tying it around your head, covering your eyes. She gently kisses your eyes against the thin strip of black fabric.

“And now I am also your mistress.” 

Her kisses trail your neck, kissing and suckling, as her hand slips under your shirt. You can feel her sharp fingers twist your already hardened nipples and you murmur. Suddenly, you yelp as Arlecchino sinks her teeth into your delicate flesh. You feel something warm slide against your skin and realize she’s drawn blood. You can hear her lick at your wound, savoring every last crimson drop. 

When she sits up, Arlecchino wipes the remaining blood off her lips, smearing it against the sides with one swift motion. Her hand brushes against your nether regions, circling your entrance. She spits on her hand before pressing a finger inside you, using her saliva as lube. 

“Don’t worry, being my pet would have its perks. Like me doting on you.”

You murmur, your breath hitching. It’s a bit uncomfortable at first, but you’re quickly squirming with pleasure, your mind becoming hazy. She scrapes against your walls which happily accept her intrusion. As you open your mouth to moan, you feel something wet fall into it. You choke a bit at first before realizing that Arlecchino just spit in your mouth.

You swallow it. 

“Oh? Just like that? Did you like that? Ha. I didn’t know you were such a whore.” Arlecchino mocks you. She inserts another finger into you, stretching you out even more. Her fingers curl hitting you directly in your sweet spot and you arch your back, a loud groan escaping your lips. 

How did she find it so quickly? 

“Such a noisy little pet. You make such cute noises.” 

Arlecchino continues to finger you- stretching, curling, pushing deeper into you until you’re a hot mess, tossing and turning your head as waves of pleasure course through you. Lewd noises fill the ornate office. You can feel a familiar knot in your stomach, curling up tightly as your moans become even more needy. The corners of her lips twitch upwards as she realizes you’re nearing your climax. 

“My Lady…”

“Don’t tell me you’re about to cum already? Just from my fingers? How pathetic,” Arlecchino coos. With those words, she pulls her fingers from you, resting them right at your entrance. You can feel your climax come to an abrupt stop and you protest, trying to wiggle closer to her fingers that are just out of reach.

“Hey!”

The Knave raises an eyebrow, her tone dangerously low. “Hey?”

“I…I apologize, My Lady.” 

“Hmph. For that, I should not even grant you your orgasm. However, since I am benevolent, I will forgive you and let you cum if you do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“You must withdraw your transfer application.”

“What?”

Even now she is thinking of that?

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Do you really still want to leave me, my love? There is no reason to go. I could give you anything you want. Anything you need. All I want is your worship.” 

“Fine. I’ll withdraw it.” 

You certainly weren’t planning on transferring, anyways. Not after this. 

“Now say you worship me.” 

“I…I worship you Lady Arlecchino. You’re my mistress.” You quickly sputter. You’re tripping on your words, saying anything you think she’ll want to hear. In the back of your mind, you’re a bit embarrassed being so needy in front of the Harbinger. However, shame could be felt later, you just wanted to get off now, your animalistic needs having completely taken over. Your insides dully throb in rhythmic torture, begging for a release. “Just please don’t leave me like this!”

“Hmm…Fine.”

Arlecchino’s fingers once again find themselves in you, but this time moving much quicker. She leans forward, kissing your neck, no doubt purposely leaving visible marks to warn everyone that you were now hers. You can feel your walls contract around her as you once again near a climax. 

“Cum for me, Y/N”

Almost on her command, you cry out, your hot cum spilling over her fingers and the floor. In your lightheadedness, you can hear her low laugh. She uses her clean hand to push up your makeshift blindfold. The sudden light is a bit painful. As your eyes adjust to it, you look up at your lover through half lids. She hums with pleasure seeing the mess you’ve made. 

Arlecchino pulls her fingers from you. She examines them, before smirking and licking your juices off her digits, eyeing you as she does. She smiles.  

“You’ll always be by my side now, my beloved.”

#arlecchino #the knave #fatui harbingers #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino smut #arlecchino genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #gender neutral reader #cross posted on ao3

[cockslutpadalecki]

Teacher’s Pet

Summary: Your relationship had to start somewhere.

Characters: Professor!Andy Barber x F!Student!Reader.

Words: 2.2K.

Warnings: student/teacher relationship, reader is 18, sexual tension, explicit sexual content, Andy being the best goddamn teacher ever (you’ll see), male masturbation, a little female masturbation, nipple sucking, brief insight to reader’s unhinged yet impressionable mind, bit of cum eating, 18+. MINORS DNI.

A/N: Well it’s been a while, hasn’t it? Sorry I’ve been so shit at updating, hoping this makes up for it. Set in the same universe as, and serves as a prequel to, If I Can’t Have You. You don’t have to read that first for this to make sense, or even read this first and then read the other. That, I’ll leave up to you! This was heavily inspired by this post and the comments I made in response to this reblog. Beta: @princessmisery666 but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Please support our content creators by sharing our work.

You’ve been in close proximity to Andy many times before, but sitting across from him now, somehow feels more intimate and personal. You’re used to being surrounded by other students, members of the faculty but here— in this quiet diner— it’s just the two of you, talking about your hobbies and aspirations. 

He takes such an interest in you, he feels like more than just your professor— he feels like a friend. Someone who understands you better than your own parents. Like a comforting hug after a hard day, you feel safe in his presence. Important, special. One of a kind. As if you’re the only two people left in the world and all the spotlight is on you. That’s all you’ve ever wanted since he began to notice you in his classes, for his undivided attention and now you have it, you don’t want to let it go.

“So, if you hadn’t chosen law as your major, what would you have gone for?” he asks with genuine curiosity as he pops a french fry into his mouth. Not once has he asked you a question just for the sake of conversation, he’s truly been interested in your responses. 

“Hm, probably art history,” you answer truthfully and his sapphire gaze sparkles in amazement at you. 

“Art history?” He sounds surprised amid the mouthful of potato and he hurries to finish chewing and swallowing before continuing, “Wow, that’s…”

“Surprising?” you finish. 

“Something like that,” Andy chuckles softly, wiping at the corner of his lips with a serviette. “They’re just such different interests.” 

You give a little shrug. “I guess.” 

“What made you choose law?” 

You’re grateful that he briefly glances down at his plate, breaking eye contact as you toy with confessing the real reason behind your decision. Heat creeps into your cheeks as your lips twitch, threatening a smile and you realise you don’t want to be dishonest, even if it is for something innocent. 

“Honestly?” you pause, sucking in a deep breath. “You.”

“Me?” he coughs in surprise. “Why?”

“I remember seeing a lecture on YouTube,” you explain shyly. “You spoke with so much passion, and you inspired me.”

Andy takes a moment to let the words sink in, and when they do, it’s obvious. Glee radiates from his features like a lighthouse beacon shining out to sea. And you’re the boat sailing towards him in search of shelter.

You can’t take your eyes off the way he fingers another french fry, brings it up to his lips and pops it into his mouth. How can such a mundane action be so alluring? He catches your gaze before breaking it and looks down at his plate, a small smile catching at the corners of his lips. Elation fills your chest at the tiny gesture and you reach for your soda, attempting to stifle your own grin as you take a sip. 

Your stomach does somersaults, the distinct fluttering that you usually get when his thumb catches yours as he hands you back your perfectly graded papers. 

“Thank you,” he offers softly. “That means a great deal.” 

“I’m glad,” you respond, flashing him a timid smile. “You may feel like none of your students really care, but I do.” 

Andy smiles again. “I appreciate it.” 

“And I don’t just mean about your class.” 

The way he holds your gaze over the top of his soda cup makes your core tighten. Like he’s trying with his eyes to convince you not to feel the things you do.

Eventually, he pops the straw from his mouth and clears his throat. “It’s late, it’s probably time I get you home.”

-

You don’t make it home, or even out of the deserted parking lot. One innocent brush of fingers as he holds the car door open for you sees him pulling you into the back of his fancy Audi in between fevered kisses and frantic touches. 

The air inside the car is stifling as Andy’s beard scrapes across your jaw, his lips encased around yours. You sit beside him, desperately clutching at the lapels of his suit jacket as he pulls you towards him by the curve of your waist through your blouse.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathe out when he moves to kiss his way down your neck. You instantly regret saying the words, hoping he doesn’t respect your wishes because deep down, you want this. 

You want his lips lower… and lower… and lower. 

As you feel him pause against the skin of your throat, you hurry to tell him, “Please. Keep going.”

With renewed permission, his hands roam your body, taking the time to worship you in ways boys your age couldn’t dream of. The trail of goosebumps Andy leaves in his wake is proof that he knows exactly where to touch you to elicit the kind of moans that sizzle across your tongue. 

“Tell me to stop,” he mutters between heavy kisses, his hand creeping beneath your blouse. “I’ll stop.” You don’t say anything. You don’t want him to stop. Ever. “But you just feel so good.” His thumb runs over your pebbling nipples through your bra, circling them until your breasts ache to be touched. 

You encourage him with little whimpers, eager to feel his hands on your untouched skin. Andy expertly unbuttons your blouse and tugs down the cups of your bra. He glances down briefly, smiling at the sight of your bare breasts before giving you what you want. His hands are scalding on your flesh and you writhe in his grip, pushing your breasts further into his palms. His lips trail hot and wet over your collarbone, moving lower as he gently suckles the skin as if he’s trying to drink the flavour right out of you. He finally kisses down over the curve of your naked breast, beyond the imaginary boundary he had set for himself, and you let out a moan when his tongue flicks across your erect nipple. 

Running your hands through his hair, you tug gently on his roots when he takes the hardened bud into his mouth and rolls it between his lips. Flames of heat roll and twist in the depths of your gut as he lets your nipple go with a resounding pop, kissing his way back up your jaw to smother your lips in fresh kisses.

Andy places his hand precariously on your thigh, waiting for you to mutter your consent before smoothing his hand beneath your skirt. His fingers glide over the seat of your saturated underwear as he rubs your clit in slow, purposeful strokes.

You reach down to return the favour, laying your hand flat over his swollen groin, unsure of what to do next. You’re not inexperienced by any means, but you’ve only got as far as over the clothes stuff and a little dry humping. This is entirely new. 

Andy seems to like it though, groaning into your kisses as he pulls his hand out from under your skirt and begins fiddling with his belt. He gently encourages you to look down and your eyes bulge as you take in the sight of his thick, veiny cock protruding from the gap in his pants. 

“I, uh, I’ve never done… this before,” you admit, embarrassed. 

Andy cups your head between his hands and makes you look at him, his soft blue eyes warm and inviting. 

“It’s okay,” he smiles wide, “I’ll talk you through it.” 

You nod silently, nibbling nervously on your bottom lip. He smiles at you and lowers his hands, curling one back around his cock as you glance down at his lap. You watch the way he gently pumps his shaft, his hips bucking upwards ever so slightly each time his hand slips down to the root.

“Wrap your fingers around it,” he instructs huskily, letting go to allow you to take over. You reach out, hand shaking and slowly grip the base of him. His flesh is pulsing hot within your hold. “Yeah, just like that. Now move it up and down.” 

Concentrating hard, you do as he says, sliding your hand up and down to the same languid motion he had shown you seconds before. Andy presses his forehead to your temple, his breath hot and heavy against your cheek.

You think you’re doing well just as his large hand overlaps yours and you blanch a little in shame.

“Mm, like this,” he grits out and begins to move your hand to a rhythm he has already preset in his mind. He tightens his grip around your fingers as his breath hitches high in his throat before letting go to give you the opportunity to continue your movements alone. You keep the pace magnificently, spurred on by the deep husk of the groans rumbling low in his throat.

“Yes, oh good girl, you are a fast learner,” he laughs, and you feel your chest swell with pride at the compliment.

“I have the best teacher, Sir,” you reply, turning to look at him. In a brief moment of brazenness, you press your mouth to his, nibbling along Andy’s bottom lip with a coy smile.

“Fuck,” he growls, capturing you in another heated kiss. “You’re doing so well.”

You don’t know what to say so you just nod, heat warming your cheeks as the praise makes you giddy. With his forehead pressed to yours, Andy grips the back of your neck, keeping your focus trained solely on him. 

“Want you to look at me as I come,” he tells you. “Want you to see what you do to me.” 

Again, you nod. Immediately he reaches out and grabs your hand, stopping you. 

“Are you alright?” He eyes you with concern. 

You swallow hard with yet another nod. “I’m fine.” 

“We can stop right now if you’re not.”

Flashing him a wide, genuine smile you reassure him, “I promise. I just-just don’t know what to say.” 

Andy laughs softly. “I’m sorry I get a little carried away.” 

“Don’t be sorry, I like knowing I’m having this effect on you.” 

He smirks. “What else do you like?” Slowly, he starts to drag your hand back up and down his shaft.

“Um, I don’t kno-”

“Do you like doing this to me?” He lets go, allowing you to carry on pumping his cock by yourself.

“Yes.” 

“Tell me.” 

“I like doing this to you,” you say shakily. 

“Do I feel good?” 

“Mm, yes.” 

“What do I feel like?” 

“Hard. Soft.” You scrunch up your nose, feeling silly but Andy doesn’t share the sentiment. 

“Soft?”

“It feels… I mean, your skin is soft, it’s hot. Can feel you throbbing when I do this.” You run your hand back up his shaft and Andy’s cock pulses, just like you say he does. 

His eyelashes flutter closed. “Oh fuck. Keep doing that.” 

You obey happily, your embarrassment fading the harder Andy starts to pant, “don’t stop,” on a tumbled loop. 

He begins to fuck up into your hand. “Wish this was your pussy.” 

“I wish it was too,” you whisper back, and feeling brave, you add, “Bet you’d feel so big inside me, Sir.” 

“Fuck!” he roars, his face scrunching up tight. “Keep saying that.” 

The way he reacts inspires you to continue. “That I want you inside me?” 

“Ye-yes.” 

“That I want you to fuck me?” 

“Oh shit.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “Keep going.” 

You don’t know where the confidence suddenly comes from. Or where you find the words, but they come tumbling out anyway. 

“I’ve wanted you from the first day we met. I dream about you bending me over your desk and fucking me while people walk past your office. You have to put your hand over my mouth to keep me quiet as you make me come all over your cock.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna,” Andy shouts and pulls your face close, his azure stare piercing as he falls silent. He can’t keep his eyes open as his body goes rigid and he suddenly explodes in your hand, his hot gooey seed spurting out in ropes all over his pants. As the last of his spend dribbles out, you slow your rhythm and eventually he sags against the backseat with a loud contented sigh and you finally let go, your hand sticky white. 

You sit beside him, watching his breathing slowly return to normal as his eyelashes flutter softly against his cheeks. It amazes you how much you love the sight of the light dusting of claret to his cheeks and the sheen of sweat across his brow, knowing you caused this. You made him breathless and hot. You made him come. You.

Slowly, he licks his lips, giving you a lazy smile as he opens his eyes. You return it tenderly. 

“Should probably clean this up, huh?” he laughs, glancing down at the mess of his cock and your hand. 

“Got any tissues?” 

“Don’t think I do.”

“Okay, nevermind,” you shrug. Still feeling flashes of confidence buzz through your veins, you bring your hand up and suck his cum right off your thumb, followed by your index finger, making sure to keep your eyes locked with him the entire time.

Andy’s eyes widen in amazement and he sits up, grabbing the back of your neck to pull you in for another lust-heavy kiss. “Fuck,” he breathes, “I think I love you.”

It’s meant as a joke. But in your giddy teenage mind, you take it literally.

***

ALL CE: @buckymydarlingangel @broadwaybabe18 @captain-asguard @chamberofsloths @cevansgurl @dreamlessinparis @deanwinchesterswitch @fandom-princess-forevermore @hurricanerin @jvstjewels @kellhems @la-cey @ladybug05 @livstilinski @ladydmalfoy @mugi-chwan95 @navybrat817 @otomefromtheheart @oneoftheprettynerds @patzammit @rebel-stardust @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @sammykb1994 @syrenavenger @straywords @saiyanprincessswanie @sunwardsss @selfsun @threeminutesoflife @vicmc624 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @xoxonotme

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#andy barber #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #andy barber fanfiction #defending jacob fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction

[fandomz-brainrot]

Serial Savior (Stu Macher x Male Reader)

Lowkey a vent fic ngl 😭

TW: drugs (weed), panic attack, mentions of gore and murder, mom yells at reader :(

---

The killing of Casey Becker had just been announced, and your mother couldn't be more over protective. As soon as it made the news, you were locked in your house. The school hadn't even shut down yet, and you were trapped. You sat on the couch as she searched your room, as for some reason she was suspecting YOU. Your clothes were strewn across the floor, all your little hiding spots ransacked. She marched down the stairs to where you had curled up. She shoved the items she was holding in to your face; a pack of cigarettes and a small bag of weed. Shit.

"What is this?!" She asked angrily, and you swore you could see a vein bulge in her forehead. "Why the hell do you have this kind of stuff in MY house! Do you want to end up like your father, hm?" She lectured. You clenched your teeth to try and control your fear and anger. You closed your eyes and gave her a weak shrug. She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Go to your room." "But-" "NOW!"

And that's where you are now. Locked in your room. Trapped. You pressed your back against your bed frame and dragged your palms down your face with a groan. You looked around your destroyed room, upset by the mess but with no motivation to clean it up. And the words she said-- she made you sound like the devil for just having fun. It's not like you were hurting anyone; you just liked to smoke and have fun, that was all. Made life a little less boring...

...Well now the rest of your senior year is gonna be a total drag. And boring. Miserable, even. You let your head hit the frame with a soft thud, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt as your breathing quickened.

Oh my god. She's going to lock you in here forever. You won't be able to see your friends, you'll fall behind on school, you probably won't even graduate this year, you're going to be so bored and so goddamn alone, but you're always alone, right? "Forever alone Y/n", that's what you say to yourself. God she's never going to trust you again, she hates you, everyone FUCKING HATES YOU-

Your longer-than-you-thought spiral was interrupted by a small tap on your window. You wiped a tear from your face with shaking hands and looked over at the alarm clock next to you, moving a clothing item that your mom had thrown out of the way so you could see the time; 2:00 a.m. Jesus Christ.

Two more thuds, slightly louder than the one before we're heard from the window again. What the hell could that be? Your thoughts start racing again as you shakily stand. You slowly walk closer, more taps and thuds being heard. You squeezed your eyes shut as you anxiously opened the window. It's going to be the killer, I swear he's going to get my attention and as soon as I open the window he's gonna stab and gut me just like Casey Becker and then my name will be on the news as everyone views my bloodied corpse--

"Why do you look so freaked out, man?"

Well that certainly wouldn't be the voice of the killer.

Your eyes shoot open as you stare down from your window. Standing below is none other than Stu Macher-- known for his unhinged personality and killer parties. Looks like you're safe after all...

You had known the guy since freshman year. You spent some time with Stu and Billy outside of school, occasionally going over to Stu's to watch horror movies with the two. You've even gone to a couple of parties, usually being the one to supply the booze and weed. Not to mention the small crush you've had on the guy since the year you met. What could you say, he was cute and goofy, so what more could you want?

So, you definitely felt safe with him. Didn't change the fact that he was apparently throwing pebbles at your window like some cheesy movie. At 2 in the morning.

You sighed in annoyance placed your face in your hands. "Stu, what the hell are you doing here?" You asked, your voice muffled by your hands as you drag them down your face.

"To rescue you from your prison, of course!" He said with a lopsided smile, rustling the handful of pebbles in his palm before dropping them. "Besides I needed to make sure you weren't gutted, ya know--" he clicked his tongue and made a slice gesture over his throat with his thumb "--throat to groin, insides on the outside, that kind of thing." He said, his smile never dropping.

You shut your eyes tight, pinching the bridge of your nose as your annoyance only grew. "Ew, man, gross, terrible visual." Stu's smile faltered, narrowing his eyes at you. Something about that made your hair stand on end. His gaze was more uncomfortable. "But I mean... you love all that cheesy horror movie gore, right? So what's the difference?" You looked at him with wide, uneasy eyes. His words didn't sit right with you. "That's... that's a lot different. That's a movie, man. This is real life. We KNEW her. Quite honestly it's terrifying." You said slowly, crossing your arms over your chest.

A look you can't describe crossed his face before quickly disappearing. He smiled at you again with a shrug. "Whatever man, just hurry up and get out here." He said, beckoning you with his hands. You leaned hesitantly out of the window, an eyebrow raised. "Is it really safe to go out this late? I mean... how do you know that I'm not the killer?" You said with a smirk. His grin only widened, and he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I highly doubt that. Plus, no one will hurt us with me around, I'm too intimidating." He looked back at you while flexing his lanky arms.

You chuckled, shaking your head at him. "Yeah yeah whatever, just make sure to catch me when I jump out of here." You said, beginning to climb out the window. He held his thin arms out for you as you fell from the window. He stumbled as he caught you, your larger frame knocking the wind from him slightly as he nearly fell. The jump was far from graceful, but at least you didn't make too much noise or break your legs.

Stu tried to steady himself, since his thin frame wasn't well equipped to support yours. "Jesus Christ, just crush me while you're at it, huh?" He said sarcastically, earning another eyeroll from you. "Whatever, it's not my fault you're a literal twig."

"It's hidden strength, okay!"

You gave him a dead stare as you wrapped all of your fingers around his slender wrist. You couldn't quite tell in the dim lighting, but his face seemed to tint a dusty pink. "Get your hands offa me!" He whined, prying your hand off with a chuckle. "Just- get in the car before we get caught." He said with a grin as he dragged you off to where he had left his car. "Since when were you worried about that? Did I knock some common sense in to that little skull or something?" You teased as you ruffled his hair. He swatted your hand away with a quiet "shut up" coming from his lips.

You smiled fondly as he dragged you along. A couple houses down, in some random driveway, Stu had left his car. He opened the door for you with a dramatic bow. You got in with another roll of your eyes (If you had a dollar for every time you had done that tonight...)

"You're such a gentleman!" You said sarcastically. He gave you a playful wink as he got in on the driver's side. "I try, I try!" His tone was light, and the joy in it was infectious. You let yourself grin-- a genuine, full, happy smile-- and leaned back in the seat as Stu started the car.

You were free. Maybe only for a few hours, but still...

You were free.

---

You had only been in the car for around 5 minutes, and it had been surprisingly peaceful. Stu had started playing his mixtape, and you were just... relaxed. Your eyes were closed as you just enjoyed the freedom, feeling the wind on your face and in your hair from the rolled down window.

Then Stu broke the silence.

"Sooo..." He started slowly, tapping his slender fingers against the wheel. "Why were you locked up there like a prisoner?" You sighed, not opening your eyes.

"Well, there was a double homicide on the news dingus."

"Yeah, I'm aware, but you were in there crying for a while--"

"Were you watching me?! Ew, dude, what the hell-"

"Well it would be kinda weird to interrupt you!"

"How long were you even out there man?"

His eyes widened slightly, as he glanced at you quickly before returning his eyes back to the road. He rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward smile. "Uhhh... no comment?"

You looked at him with a face of playful disgust as you gently swatted his face. He glanced at you again with even wider eyes than before as he gently shoved you away. "If we crash, its not my fault."

You smiled at the brunette again, before leaning back once more. "Fine. If you HAVE to know..." you exhaled slowly, buzzing your lips as you stared at your feet. "My mom found my drugs... and she said a lot of really like... hurtful things... pretty scary..." you pursed your lips. Ugh, now the vibes feel ruined... You click your tongue, looking back at Stu. "So yeah, not very cool, BUT--!" You point at him with a lopsided smile. "Being here with you IS actually cool."

He chuckled, a small smile on his face. "Thanks for the flattery, really good for my ego!" His tongue poked out from his mouth, and despite the playful expression he showed, you saw his knuckles turn white as he put the steering wheel in a death grip. "But I do now have a personal issue with your mother." You let a small, amused "hmph".

You noticed where your knight in shining armor was pulling in, quirking an eyebrow in confusion. "Uh, why are you pulling in to a gas station, you don't need gas right now?" You asked, tilting your head in confusion. He parked, turning to face you with a huge grin. "Becauseeee I have a gift for you that'll make it all better, buddy!" he said enthusiastically. You crossed your arms, but couldn't fight the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Oh boy, what is it?" You say sarcastically, watching as Stu slings half of his body in to the back seat, rustling around for God knows what.

After a bit of searching, he pulls out two items with a proud "aha!" before presenting them to you; a glass bong and some weed that he had already grounded. "Now you can smoke again!" Stu announced with a wide grin.

You felt your lips tug in to a large, toothy smile. You looked back at him. It may seem stupid, but this meant a lot. This was how you coped, and he was willing to share his precious stash with you. And just you. It felt... personal. To you, this was peak intimacy.

"Dude... you- you don't have to, ya know?" You said, fingers brushing against the glass of the bong. Stu raised an eyebrow at you, already beginning to pack a bowl. "Uh, I want to though? I just wanna give you a good time man." He stated plainly, fishing a lighter out of his pocket when he was done. You leaned back in the seat, a content smile on your face.

Stu turned back to you, bowing dramatically the best he could in these cramped conditions before he presented the bong to you like it was a trophy. "First hit for you, my liege!" His words were laced with a shitty English accent. His eyes looked at you through his lashes, a huge toothy smile full of sharp canines gleaming up at you. His tongue poked from between his teeth, as he bit it to prevent himself from laughing at his own antics. He looked absolutely ridiculous. It was enticingly adorable.

You tilted your head at him, ruffling his short hazelnut colored hair. "Thank you, my knight." You replied, the same shitty accent coating your voice. You could've sworn his face darkened slightly as you took the bong and lighter from him.

You held out your fist to him, sparing a glance at the car's clock. It was 2:30, but it felt like the middle of the day, you just had so much energy and excitement. So much joy. You held out your fist to him, a smirk on your lips. "Cheers. This'll be the start to a great night, I'm sure." He bumped his against yours, letting your knuckles rest against his for a few moments as he met your eyes again. "Cheers, man."

---

(Word count: 2212 words)

I'll prolly make a few more parts, I just wanted to get something out soon lmao

I had this idea rattling around in my brain for like ever and I just didn't know how to make it in to writing so sorry if it's bad :(

#fanfic #x male reader #fanfic writing #x male y/n #x reader #fanfiction #scream #scream 1996 #scream fanfic #scream oneshot #scream movies #scream x reader #scream x you #scream x yn #scream x male reader #stu macher x male reader #stu macher #stu macher x y/n #stu macher x reader #stu macher x you #oneshot

[ohblackdiamond]

bite the hand that bleeds (ace/paul, pg-13)

Summary: Now all that doesn’t matter. KISS is over. The makeup sold. Paul won’t ever tour again. The big payout Ace had hoped for evaporated. All that Ace could possibly want, could possibly hope for, are the last scraps of Paul’s generosity. Paul’s mouth twitches as he thinks about it, and then he reaches for his phone again.

Paul gets an unexpected art collector at a gallery show, and ends up entertaining his old bandmate for tea.

Notes: Part of a fic swap with @elrohare (prompt: afternoon tea). Please check out her lovely Whenever You're Ready (I'm Here) for a beautiful take on the same setting.

“Come now, gentlemen Your love is all I crave You'll still be in the circus When I'm laughing, laughing in my grave” -“Memo from Turner,” Mick Jagger

Forty meet and greets, that’s the evening’s agenda, with room for maybe five or six impulse buyers at the tail end.  Christian, Wentworth’s president, sends him a hard copy the morning of, with notes, though he usually only glances over it. He only really keeps an eye out for the special requests, so he can remember they’re coming up– maybe someone with cancer, or a whole family wanting a picture with him, or a video message to a kid barely out of basic training and stationed overseas– but the bulk, the very bulk of the meet and greets are simple, easy to handle. A couple signatures, a couple pictures, and a smile, and they’re mostly on their way. It takes so little to make them happy, so little. The kids never really changed– they just went from piggybanks to 401ks. 

Forty meet and greets. He likes doing these much better than the ones for KISS. He likes not sharing attention with Gene.  Most especially, even now, he likes the girls, not for anything carnal, but just that small, secret pleasure of still being wanted at the tender age of seventy-two.

He scans through the list, though he never remembers the names, just some of the faces. The names give their age  away anyway, Generation X’s finest crop of Lisas and Erics and– hm, a Paul, too. A Paul Daniel. 

It’s just coincidence. He sets his agenda down on his hotel bedside table and tries to think no more about it. He’s got four hours to kill before he needs to get down there, anyway. Maybe he’ll order something on his phone. He taps the screen, checking his messages first. One from Erin he’ll answer later. One from Gene from about a week ago he still has no intention of answering.  The phone vibrates in his hand as he’s just about to set it aside– a call, not a text. Christian.

“Hello?”

“I hate to bother you, Paul, but it’s about the event,” Christian says. He sounds a little scattered. Paul resists the urge to snap back at him– of course it’s about the event– letting him go on. Sometimes it’s hard to summon up the energy to respond much. Sometimes, even four months out from his last show, it still hurts to talk. “One of the people on the guest list.”

“If you’re thinking there’ll be some trouble, then you can handle it.”

“It’s not the usual trouble.” After ten or more years of this, Christian ought to know the usual trouble well enough by now. The stalker types, the seriously unhinged ones that believe that buying a painting entitles them to his true friendship, or more. The expectant ones, the oversharing, desperate ones, the nuts that have to be escorted out.  Usually the high price of admission keeps them away, and usually, Paul doesn’t get told they even tried to make an appearance. He has people for that. He should have people for that. “All I can say is that I’m sorry.  We had one of our new consultants– she just started two weeks ago, and she– well, you know how it is, she’s only twenty-four, she had no idea–”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you had a buyer you may not want.”

“Please don’t tell me Eddie Trunk got his fat ass over to D.C.”

Christian actually manages a snort, but the next words make the breath catch in Paul’s throat. 

“No. It’s Ace Frehley.”

– 

Paul tells Christian he’ll call him back when he ought to tell him to issue Ace a refund.

He hasn’t seen Ace in six years now. Oh, he’s seen Ace– in a parade of humiliating Tiktoks and Youtube shorts, slurring interviews, horrific concerts– but he hasn’t seen Ace. He’s heard from Ace– the occasional, completely unanswered text– but the last time he listened to him on the phone was months back. Ace’s Hail Mary, his final, desperate attempt to get let onstage for MSG. Ace had fumbled it. Ace fumbled everything. 

Now all that doesn’t matter. KISS is over. The makeup sold. Paul won’t ever tour again. The big payout Ace had hoped for evaporated. All that Ace could possibly want, could possibly hope for, are the last scraps of Paul’s generosity. Paul’s mouth twitches as he thinks about it, and then he reaches for his phone again. 

“Have you contacted him? When did this happen?”

“Not since the purchase. That was two days ago.”

“And no one checked until now?  You had Ace Frehley buy a painting and nobody noticed for two days?”

“It was on his girlfriend’s credit card.”

“That’s fucking pathetic.” Cancel it. Refund it. That’s what he should be saying. “He does that shit to people. Uses them for whatever favors he can. Uses them all up.”

“What do you want us to do?”

Paul exhales.

If it was refunded, Ace would go to the press. Ace would tell every damn news website in the world that Paul Stanley wouldn’t sell him a painting. He’d get all sorts of publicity. The avatars had gotten bad press, not that Paul gave much of a shit anymore, but if Ace capped it all off, had someone else spin it just right… fuck. It could go so well for him. Ace could play it off like a spat-upon peace offering, and he, Paul, would come off like a bitter asshole, denying him not just the band, but five minutes of his time. He couldn’t win. He wouldn’t be able to win. 

“Call him up. Tell him he’s not coming to the gallery.” 

“All right.”

“But tell him he can meet me in an hour in Entyse.” Paul doesn’t even question if they’ll get him on the line. Or if Ace’ll show. “There won’t be any trouble.”

“Okay. Paul, again, all I can do is apologize–”

“What for? I was headed there anyway.”

He hangs up. His phone’s buzzing within ten minutes, texts, this time, and then a call, but he doesn’t so much as glance at the screen. He knows who they’re from. 

– 

Paul walks into Entyse without a reservation and gets seated immediately. It’s not much of a power play; there’s not been any satisfaction on his part in things like that for, oh, forty-five years now. Especially not when Entyse is just the Ritz Carlton’s restaurant, and he only had to head downstairs from his suite. 

They offer him the menus, but all he takes is a Coke and a water. He’d half-expected Ace to get there before him, half-wanted to see him wandering in, all stupid bravado, looking around for the front of house, aware that he’d cheated himself out of every rockstar perk Paul’s going to have the rest of his life. But five minutes, then ten minutes pass. Paul’s just about to get up– he can feel a couple eyes on him at this point, wondering, probably, why he’s alone, with a solid half of them not knowing who he is, probably more– and then he sees Ace out of the corner of his eye, getting led to his table like a pensioner to his nursing home bed. 

That’s not fair. It’s not, unfortunately, even true. Ace is walking about as well as he ever did, which isn’t well at all, struggling against his own instinct to pigeon-toe. He looks fine. He’s lost some weight over the last couple years. He’s in jeans, a black leather jacket, and a cheap Hello Kitty button-down. And sunglasses, which he yanks off as soon as he sits down, pushing them aside on the table. 

“Hey, Paul,” he says.

“Hey.”

It’s not the start he wants. The waiter’s given Ace the drink menu– Ace flips it over immediately and hands it back– and goes into the lunch options, but Ace interrupts him.

“How about tea?”

“The afternoon tea, sir?”

Ace points over to the table across from theirs, where six or seven teenage girls in puffy pastel atrocities are giggling over some tiered tea trays.

“Yeah, what they’ve got.”

The waiter seems completely unruffled. Paul narrows his eyes, looking at Ace– specifically, he’s looking for Ace’s phone– but if he’s got it on him, it must be in his pocket. The waiter pulls out the afternoon tea menus. 

“We have two options for tea.  The afternoon tea, and the royal tea. Your selections of sandwiches and sweets are completely customizable. The royal tea does include a glass of rose wine and–”

“Paulie, he’s trying to upsell you,” Ace says with a snort. 

“I don’t remember saying I would pay.”

“You invited me. And I did buy your painting. That’s how it works, right?” Ace turns to the waiter after a quick glance at the menu. “Gimme the afternoon tea. Uh. Darjeeling. Don’t gimme any of the cream puffs or mousse, all right? Just, uh, substitute in more of the scones.”

“And you, sir?”

Paul had been about to get a salad just to spite him, just to show how little time he wants  to spend entertaining him here. Afternoon tea– God, it’s comical. Ridiculous. His youngest had that at her birthday party about three years ago. What the hell is Ace doing? What’s he trying to accomplish?

He doesn’t know. 

“I’ll take the upsell. And jasmine tea. No substitutes on any of the stuff on the tray.”

The waiter nods, heading off at that brisk pace. Ace pushes his hair back behind his ear, and smiles. 

“You got a good crowd coming?”

“Yeah. It’s a good crowd.”

“’S good. I used to sell my art, too.” Ace is so matter-of-fact that Paul can almost feel his own blood pressure start to rise. He can’t ever outright call out arch meanings with Ace, the way he can with Gene, for all he’s sure they’re there. Ace doesn’t have those tells that Gene does. “It was all on the computer. I used to really like to tinker with it. Now all you gotta do is click and put a filter on it.”

“Not very tactile.”

“Nah. I got settings on my– on my webcam now, for when I do interviews. Barely even gotta put on any makeup with how well that filters out all the imperfections.” Ace peers at him. “I could show you sometime. I guess now that KISS is done you–”

“Cut the crap, Ace, and tell me what you want.”

“Nothing.”

“Cut the crap.”

“What’d you get the upsell for, Paul? Since when do you gotta have a drink to deal with me?”

Paul doesn’t answer, just grabs his Coke and takes a long swig. He used to be able to do Gene this way. Silent treatment him for hours and hours. This last tour– the last tour– it had gotten unbearable for both of them. Each show another nail in the coffin, a relief as much as it was an agony. Another shaving down of whatever was left of their friendship. 

He hadn’t even seen Gene since the last show. It hadn’t even occurred to him until just now. 

Ace takes a couple sips of his water. He’s not looking at Paul. His gaze is towards those teenage girls. 

“My fiancee’s got a girl about that age,” he says quietly. “She’s got a friend that dresses kinda like that, real frilly. She brought her over to the house once. Call themselves Lolitas or something. I don’t get it.”

“It’s Japanese.” Two words more than he’d meant to give him. 

“Oh.” Ace nods, glancing briefly at his own shirt. “I’d like to get back over there someday. I dunno that I will.”

Probably not. Ace can’t afford to tour outside of the States. Paul tries to swallow his next comment, but he doesn’t manage.

“I’m not touring again, Ace.”

“I know. I’m not asking you to.”

“I’m not helping you tour.”

“I’m not asking for that, either.”

“Then what are you–”

The waiter reemerges, first with their teas and then, immediately afterward, with the trays, laden with tiny sandwiches and sweets. Ace’s grin only widens, and he immediately snatches the smoked salmon sandwich from his tea tray and sticks the entire thing in his mouth. One bite. 

“Fuck, that was good. Are you still on the vegetarian bit? Can I have yours?”

“No. No, I’m not.” Paul takes his own salmon sandwich from his tray just to spite him, eating it more slowly. But three bites and it’s just as gone as Ace’s. Pretty good. It occurs to him, briefly, that Ace probably thinks Olive Garden is fine dining at this point in his life. It would be sad if he hadn’t done it to himself.

Ace moves onto the quiche. This one, he cuts up into raggedy thirds, stabbing each with his fork. 

“Caramelized onions on top. Y’know, my manager, he’s something of a chef, but–”

“Tell me what you want, Ace.” 

Ace pulls out his phone. Paul stiffens before he realizes Ace is just checking his texts.

“You never answered me. I didn’t think you would.” He lifts his eyes from the phone, setting it down on the table, face up. Ace’s got the font set as large as he can get it. Same as him. “What I want is company, Paulie. I want your company so damn bad I’ll pay you for it.”

“Like hell. You want an in.” The salmon feels like it’s about to come back up in his throat. “You want me to endorse you.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“You want a photo with me. Maybe a soundbyte for Youtube.” Paul forces himself to exhale. “Your album barely sold. KISS is gone and you’re still out there in the clubs. So you want a little more buzz. Maybe I’d help you get ten more butts in the seats at those fucking dive bars you play–”

“I’m not at fucking dive bars.”

“When was the last time you sold out an arena? I’ll wait. No. I know.”

Ace’s mouth is pinched, face just a little flushed. He eats the pieces of his quiche in rapid succession, then starts savagely on the remaining sandwiches, just grabbing them off the tray and stuffing them in his mouth. Then he starts on the tea, taking a quick swallow without the cream and sugars Paul remembers him always adding in. 

“Same as the last time you didn’t sound like shit.” He grabs the tongs, dropping in three sugars, then the cream, stirring them, eyes full on Paul’s face, daring him to get up, daring him to leave. “Gene told me what happened to you, back when we toured Australia together. I know all about that.”

“You don’t know shit.”

“You ruined yourself and then you blamed him with it. And he believes it, too. That’s the funny thing.” A swallow. “He was about in tears when he told me. Gene’s a snake, but he’s better than either of us. All he hasn’t sold off yet is his conscience.” 

The tea trays never looked so comical. Silver tiers, pastel sweets, bright-colored sandwiches. He’s focusing on them because there’s nothing else to focus on. Only that Ace wants him to go. Ace wants him to go so that he can feel like he’s won. But Ace hasn’t won anything. His whole life he’s given up everything he ever had like a goddamn fool, then begged the whole world for their scraps. He can’t get front row. He can’t get the Ritz Carlton. He’s lucky he got fifteen minutes of Paul’s time. 

“Gene’s a liar.”

“Not about that.” Another swallow of tea. Paul expects another sharp accusation, but Ace just swaps tactics like credit cards from a billfold. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Just like it doesn’t matter what I play like when I go out there. You… you and Gene took me to see James Brown, for my birthday that time. I remember seeing that old man out there, seeing them put all the capes on him, I thought, they should put him to bed, don’t put him out there, he’s a-a fucking dinosaur, now– but they did. ’Cause he didn’t know what else to do with himself. All he could do was sing all the old songs. Put on the capes. Be a joke.”

“You’re the only joke here.”

“We both are.” Ace keeps eating. Almost all the sandwiches are gone from his tray. He’s onto the scones. “I don’t want an in, Paul. I just want someone I can talk to.”

“Talk to Gene.”

“I can’t.”

“Talk to Peter.”

“He won’t.”

“Why me?”

Ace finishes off the scone. There’s a little butter smeared across his lip.

“You know why.”

It’s the music business. The music business. I don’t owe you friendship. I don’t owe you anything. Doc’s adage, the one he’s scrawled on one of his paintings, there in the gallery, burns somewhere in his heart: quality time remaining. Like he’s a bomb about to go off. Like someone’s subtracting his last breaths down. Quality time remaining and in just a couple hours, he’ll be spending that time doing those forty meet and greets for fans that want a moment and a picture and a couple autographs. Fans that only know him from the magazines and interviews and two hours at a time in a couple hundred concerts, but think of him like a brother, like a lover, like a demigod. Ace doesn’t know him, he wants to insist, but that’s a lie. Ace knew him when he was no one. 

Ace knew him when the Hotel Diplomat was the best they could manage. When they hauled their gear in a milk truck. When the KISS t-shirts were iron-ons they cut out themselves. When Bill was signing them onto Casablanca. When every show was a rush of adrenaline, instead of a slog. When it didn’t hurt, when he could bounce back from anything, just anything–

(when)

(when)

Long skinny legs spread across a cheap yellow duvet. A girl’s head between them. The room assignments had swapped; Peter was rooming with his wife, and Ace, Ace was lying there, getting head from that girl as Paul stepped out from the shower. 

(you want in on this, paul? and his finger crooked, beckoning lazily)

(and he did. and he did. that was the first sidle into something new, something filthy. he had taken the girl from behind while she sucked off ace, but it was only after she left that it really mattered. it was only after that that they’d fooled around together, feigning drunk after only three beers apiece.)

(you want in on this, paul?)

Those same legs in faded jeans, close to fifteen years later. No girl this time but the hotel might as well have been the same. Ace’s fortunes had declined even worse than KISS.’ And yet he’d had enough reason to spend the night with him, after the Limelight show, without a girl there for that edge of rockstar excess.

Another ten years. Another scattered handful of moments. Ace high on pills.  Paul edging on the verge of divorce. The disgust had started to fester long before then, disgust and awareness. Ace was throwing it all away again, casual and careless. Ace wasn’t what he wanted, in or out of bed, and he never had been. He was still just some crude kid from the Bronx that played guitar better than him, that crashed cars, that drank himself to stupors, only then he was nearly fifty instead of twenty-five.

He couldn’t change. Just kept making the same mistakes. Just kept playing the same old chords, the same chords anyone could play. He’d proved that afterwards, hadn’t he? He’d proved that. The fans had taken Tommy for twenty years. Ace had never been special at all. 

Paul tries to think that. Tries to assure himself of that. But looking Ace in the face stops him cold. There’s defeat there, sure. But there’s a spark in those dark, hooded eyes, too. There’s a spark that no stupid tea outing and no amount of barbs from him could ever manage to completely extinguish.

It’s a spark he remembers, and for the barest sliver of time, it’s just enough to almost make him look young.

“Maybe I’m better off trying them. Gene’s not so sore at me anymore.” Ace lifts a macaron from his tray. “He’s still the one paying his old band.”

“I know.”

“Peter’ll let it all go if I visit him.”

“He would.”

“It’s just you I wanted, that’s all.” Ace gets up, having to lean against the table in order to stand. He reaches for his Gucci purse, hooking it to his shoulder. “It’s always been you.”

“Ace–”

“Don’t let them get too weird with you at the event. Pretend you can’t hear ’em.” Ace’s words are only a little dry as he crunches the macaron, then reaches for the remaining scones, wrapping them in a napkin. Paul’s stomach starts to twist. All the fight seems out of him, all the acidity, all the hope. In tearing Paul up, he tore himself up, too. Mutually-assured destruction. “Your girl that sold me the painting, she said–”

“Which one did you buy?”

He says it suddenly, barely realizing it’s out of his mouth until Ace answers.

“What?”

“Which one?”

“The, uh, one of the abstracts.”

“Which one?”

“The blue and purple. Anyway, she said–”

“Sit down.”

“Paul–”

“Finish off the food. I will, too.”

“I’m not–”

(i want) 

“You’re coming with me.”

“Paul, c’mon, I know you don’t wanna, not after–”

“I do.”

A couple of old men drinking tea in the Ritz Carlton. A couple of young men under the covers of a Motel Six. Age shattering vocals, crippling fingers. Bitterness seeping in from every raw deal and every undercut and every canceled show, a lifetime of old pains without a salve. And yet, as Ace sits back down, easing into his chair, reaching for the strawberry on top of the tea tray, Paul finds himself almost ready to let it all go.

#kiss the band #kiss fanfiction #paul stanley #ace frehley #ace frehley x paul stanley #stehley

[lambsouvlaki]

For the Hell of it 3 - Definitely Just Friends

Character: Jason Todd x civilian! Fem!oc

Rating and Warnings: G, no warnings

Word Count: 1,219

Summary: She and Jason take her dog for a walk and talk about how they're definitely not going to get into a relationship, nu-uh.

Masterlist

-------

The third time was on purpose. So were the fourth, and fifth. 

Jason had been messaging Andy for the last month, more than he had ever texted anyone outside of the vigilante scene since coming back from the dead.

Sometimes he met her at the college library when she had essays to write and he had case work that could be done in public and neither one wanted to be stuck at home. He made annoying orders at the cafe she worked at on weekends, and she made him terrible coffee in return. Conversation drifted from their shared tastes in books, to food, to travel, to whatever came into their heads.

It was all going well until a fear took root in Jason. 

He had no business getting into a relationship. For so many reasons. Gotham was its usual unhinged and dangerous self, and the Red Hood played a vital part in its defense. It would be irresponsible to go dragging some innocent into this life. He couldn’t. He was self aware enough to know vigilantism had made him a paranoid mess, and he wasn’t going to make that anyone else’s problem. And he’d seen how the others started taking only safe bets when they had someone to come home to. He wasn’t going to start playing it safe now, not with so many people counting on him. 

Not that he and Andy were dating. But it made him nervous when he found himself flirting, or laughing with her just a little too hard. Thinking about her in idle moments on patrol. Idle moments.. Not on patrol. 

Andy was fun. She was beautiful and thoughtful and she didn’t see a ghost when she looked at him.

He couldn’t string her along. It wasn’t fair. 

Unless of course she didn’t even want him, in which case he was making a damn fool of himself for nothing. 

They were meeting up at the dog park at Too Fucking Early o’clock. She was more fond of mornings than him. Her dog Marlow needed a walk, and they were going to stroll down to the good taco truck for lunch. That wasn’t too intimate. It was lunch, anyone could get lunch.

He got there first, wearing dark glasses and squinting resentfully at the bright winter sun that was cutting through the usual diffusing layer of smog. He casually surveyed the others walking around. Crime Alley looked better by day. He didn’t even spot many hidden weapons. There were some young kids squealing on the grass, and a few people jogging in pairs. A fair few people in different uniforms smoked under shop awnings and there was a line for the coffee truck. Poison Ivy had done some light vandalism on the park a year ago but they had it in hand now and nobody had been eaten by the bushes in months. It was downright pleasant. 

“Marlow!” Andy’s voice called. 

Jason turned and was immediately confronted with soulful black eyes in a large grey snout staring intently at him. The wiry haired dog the snout was attached to came up to Jason’s hip. His mouth split into a wide smile and he presented a hand for him to sniff. Marlow inspected his offering thoroughly. Then he presented his head for pats, bumping his face at Jason's hand.

“Who’s a good boy, hm?” Jason crouched down to rub his sides. “Ready for your walk? No, no licking my face, come on.”

“If the face isn’t for licking, why is it within licking range? Checkmate, human,” Andy said. 

Jason smiled up at her. She was dressed in activewear, red and black tights hugging her shapely legs and hips before they were hidden beneath a thick grey hoodie. Her hair was up in a high bun. She grinned back at him, as blinding as the sunlight. 

He swallowed and looked back at Marlow. He got his face licked. She laughed at him. 

He made a face and stood up. “I had no idea he was so big. Irish wolfhound, huh?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know what he was when I found him as a puppy.” They started walking together along the dirt paths. “My friend who was totally going to get into vet school any day now said he was an Irish terrier.”

Jason snorted. 

“How are things with you?” 

“Alright. Work’s keeping me busy and Mrs Nikolaou on seventh street gave me a half sheet tray of Moussaka the other day,” he said. He had told her he was a contractor in private security, which in Gotham wasn’t necessarily a criminal activity, it did not invite follow-up questions. It was easier than maintaining an elaborate string of lies, and unlike Bruce he couldn’t get away with telling everyone he got hurt playing polo. 

Andy’s eyebrows spiked. “A half-? What is it with little old ladies adopting you? Where’s my moussaka, is what I’d like to know.” 

“I guess you’re just not as cute as me.” 

“Impossible. I’m fucking adorable.” 

He opened his mouth to agree, and then thought better of it. “Marlow’s about to eat duck poo.”

“Marlow!”

They reached the taco truck, which had a line in front of it to his disappointment. It never had a line at 2AM. It smelled amazing though, and they lined up eagerly. Marlow whined very convincingly but he’d already had his lunch. 

They got their orders and sat on a low stone wall to eat. 

Strands of Andy’s hair had come loose in the wind, and were at risk of getting stuck in her taco. She kept whipping her hair to try and flick it away, since both her hands were dripping salsa. Jason reached over to brush the hair from her face. She looked up at him and blushed. He tucked the hair behind her ear and grinned at her flustered look. She elbowed him in the stomach and stole one of his corn chips. 

Then he got skittish and dedicated his attention back to his lunch. Marlow curled up at their feet, keeping a wary eye on passersby. Andy finished hers first and scrubbed at her hands with a napkin. 

She cleared her throat. “Hey.”

“What?”

A silence stretched between them. He glanced at her warily. 

“I don’t want to make things weird, but, uh. I’ve been meaning to say.” She stared at her hands in her lap. “I’m not looking for anything romantic at the moment. If that was what you were looking for. It’s not that I don’t like you, I just had a bad break up a while ago and I can’t- I’m not- um.”

Relief and crushing disappointment filled him. He chose to lean into the relief.

“I’m not looking for anything more either,” he said and bumped her shoulder.

She let out a breath of relief and looked up at him. “We can be friends, right?”

“Yeah.” He ran his hands through his hair and coughed a laugh. “I was actually trying to figure out how to ask you the same.”

“Yeah? Bad break up too?”

“Na. Just… not in the right place for it.”

Her shoulders relaxed and he did too. The distance he had been trying to maintain between them fell away. It was safe to get close to her now, because he knew it wasn’t going to lead to anything.

Next >>

#Jason is Very Good at Feelings Oh Yes #jason todd #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x oc #jason todd x reader #red hood x oc #slow burn #slice of life #fluff #my fanfic #For the Hell of It #red hood

[tennessoui]

So. About "hand-me-down dreams got me high in the rafters".

I-- I'm kinda speechless here because I don't even know where to start. Wow.

Usually humiliation, Very Very Bad™ BDSM dynamics and this level of assholishness are major turn-offs for me. Yet somehow you managed to sail through that entire mine field without setting off a single one. I have no idea how you did it but I am in awe and also a bit weak-kneed tbh.

Your end note is also sending me. In my head Anakin insists that he has to finish college because he doesn't want to disappoint his mum even more so they get to the compromise that Anakin changes to one that's within driving distance so he can still live with Obi-Wan. Who remains utterly shameless and a moral black hole and is only all to happy to rub it in people's faces that he's snagged this absolute angel for himself. Said angel is turning into a spoilt rotten monster who only has to pout and whimper "Daddy/Husband..." to get his way.

I can just imagine Anakin thriving as a trophy wife/husband/baby boy/wife-boy to an unhinged but doting Obi-Wan. His social media accounts would be wild. Tabloids would be all over them, there'd be Youtube commentaries and essays on their Problematic™ relationship, they'd be the new Kardashians with how you can't escape their presence even if you want to. These two assholes would revel in it and how uncomfortable they make everyone around them. (Anakin 100% shows up to a red carpet event with Obi-Wan while dressed in a dress that's more artfully draped lace and rhinestones than actual clothing. It doesn't survive the night.)

Sorry, I completely hijacked your story there. 😅 What I mean to say is that this AU, against all odds, has me by the throat and is living rent-free in my head.

DID I MENTION IT WAS SMOKING HOT AND THAT I LOVED EVERY AWFUL THING ABOUT IT??

(I was going to make this an AO3 comment but once I finished writing it, I felt it had more Tumblr-energy. 😅)

oooo so okay love this ask!!! glad to hear the squicks weren't TOO squicky i know they were very very heavy squicks thank you for giving it a try!!!

anakin would thrive as a boy toy tbh that's going to be him for the rest of forever

as for the end note (primarily re: anakin reminding obi-wan that he's in college and will go back at the end of summer), i gotta say i think they compromise but your compromise is almost TOO healthy for this au and this obi-wan

i do think for the college question, obi-wan does not want anakin to finish. it doesn't matter where he goes, he doesn't want anakin to leave OR finish college. why should he have to? obi-wan will take care of all of his needs. so long as he stays dependent....on obi-wan.

anakin (thinking he is master manipulator again) is like well how do i know you'll take care of all of my needs? what if you fall in love with the new pool boy and forget about me?

and obi-wan is offended that anakin is almost doubting his ability to be in control

but really, anakin is saying marry me so we're legally bound together and i know you'll take care of me forever and ever as anakin kenobi

and obi-wan who doesn't particularly want to get married again after his previous marriage is like hm. HM.

and anakin is like if you marry me i won't go back to college, you have until the end of the summer to deci--

and obi-wan is like 'sold, let's go.'

#asks #so they get married like 10 minutes after the divorce is finalized #it's all about keeping anakin dependent on him thats what obi-wan likes the most #anakin's mother will get over it #pool boy au

[squirmywuirmy]

The thought of someone pointedly focusing alll their attention into making you fold, teasing you about how ticklish you are, encouraging you to let your laughter out—people being tickled and their reactions might be cute but you know what’s even cuter? Being a ler. Wanting to be the reason people let their guard down, just to watch them become goofy and unhinged??? You want to watch people LAUGH?!? ADORABLE.

That being said! Here is a lil list of different ler archetypes ! Important to note that this in no way denotes that all people that tickle other people fit wholly in these categories!! This is just a lighthearted little collection of tropes I’ve noticed in different tickle situations, focusing on the tickler side!

Meticulous Ler

-they have all damn day to explore different tactics on every likely (sides, armpits, feet, etc;) and unlikely (specific places on the rib cage, palms, ears, collarbone,etc;) spots.

-because of that, they’ll be the most likely to find your ticklish spots you didn’t even know you had

-“How ‘bout…this spot?!? No? Hm..I swore I saw you blush when I tickled right here!”

-Is extremely determined and too too comfortable with destroying people with teases from the outside in seriously these lers are EVIL.

-“Did I hear…a LAUGH?!?” Right when I got to…this spot?!?”

-If they notice something produces a stronger reaction, they are HONING in on it.

-DANGEROUS. They are PATIENT, and are not afraid to try anything. (Within boundaries of course)

-Their thought process is if one spot/method doesn’t work, there’s another one that will! And they’re not shy to try and find it.

Cheeky/Teasy Ler

-Is relentlessly vocal and teasy, observant as HELL.

-ALso evil and incredibly determined, just in getting you to fluster yourself more than physically seeking out each spot

-They KNOW when someone is ticklish, and will not resist the urge to comment on it

-In any future scenario where you’re having a playful spat with someone, or if a ‘fight’ is brought up, this person will comment “Y/n’s ticklish!”

-They are the ones spilling the beans that you’re ticklish to other people, these are the encouragers which honestly feels more flustering a lot of times 😖

-When they DO physically attack, it’s often by surprise, orrrr when they know that their words will be the finishing move on totally melting the lee (ex: they often play the role of someone called in to help tickle a lee, high confidence scenarios where they KNOW where the lee is ticklish)

-Will constantly threaten to tickle you, or they flat out WILL, in public, at home, in front of other friends—they will be sure to make embarrassing and flustering you their first target.

Elder Ler

-Ok hear me out, I don’t usually split things like this into age categories, but this is close to my heart as it seems like this category of tickles come from grandmother/grandfather aged people that you know only have the most playful, pure intentions, and it’s just always so familial and comforting

-Doesn’t need to be an older person, but that’s kind of what I had in mind with all the encounters I’ve had with these types.

-Like when an older person clutches onto you when they laugh and if they do it on your side it TICKLES and that almost certainly makes them poke or squeeze you one more time, which is so wholesome but so FLUSTERING GRAH

-Or the spidering across the back of your neck/shoulders that almost always certainly makes me shiver and cringe into myself oh my goodness

-Cheer-up pokes.

-When they check in on you and just seem to notice when you’re feeling off and they genuinely care, chefs kiss

-They are just so fun and so kind. Oh my god im just like, missing a warm grandma figure tf

Goofy Ler

-Lord have mercy on you if you’re already a person who laughs easily. These lers will use every overexaggerated, over-the-top movement/noise they can just to get you to preemptively giggle before they even tickle you.

-These people just want to see you laughing, and are completely willing to make a fool of themselves to do so.

-Think big claw hands, monster walks, declarations of the tickle monsters arrival, baby talk teases, raspberries, evil villain laughing, etc;

-Are mischievous, will be the kind to tase your sides and quickly bolt away before you realize it’s them

-“TICKLETICKLETICKLE” in the silliest falsetto voice

Sadistic Ler

-Their main goal is ultimately to see how much you can take before completely losing it

-Would never actually break your boundaries on purpose, but if you’re ok with it, will get pretty damn close to making you cry and beg for them to stop

-On the hunt for the places that produce the most uncontrollable reactions/wildest laughs

-Are the kind to tickle for interrogation purposes/punishment/getting someone to admit something.

-Will be ridiculously coy+crafty, and say things like “aww just wait until I ACTUALLY start tickling you!” “Oh, did you think I was done?? You’re not going ANYWHERE” “What was that? Tickle you more? Ok!!”

-Thrive on entrenching the person they’re tickling in complete hysteria, their only escape being the help of another person or the mercy of this ler

-Will target bad spots in such an intense way the lee will be rendered too tickly and weak with laughter to even fight back

#tickle community #tickling community #tickle #tickle stuff #ticklish #ticklish boy #tword community #tickling #sfw lee mood #sfw tickling community #Sfw ler mood #squirmywuirmy!post #types of ticklers #types of lers #tickle talk #tickle fluff #tickle Drabble #that’s all I fixated on for now folks #I hope you enjoy my brain rot #I’m braver than the troops for this #the nerves I felt while I wrote this were REAL

[badheart]

"So I, uh... need to tell you something," Vivian states while suddenly seeming nervous. "You know how I started working part time? Welp, the reason for that was because I've been... visiting a host club. M-Mind you, I was coaxed into one at first by this 3D gentleman, but it's not as I L-word him or even been doing anything less than PG-13! I just was... you know, lonely without you around." Sure enough, she then proceeds to press the tips of her fingers together. "And he made for a very nice cuddle buddy..." [ for fang! ]

Oh?! What could it be? She was already thinking about tons of scenarios, but she sure would not have expected her to seriously get involved with a real guy after all, considering how insistent she had been on their beloved 2D guys, who could never disappoint them with their flawless bodies and unhinged personalities, Fang liked them more evil.

Fang blinked, her friend seriously started to work, just so she could afford one of those stupid hosts?! Her other friends already knew her opinion on those, but personally she saw anyone going to them and especially paying for them as total losers, considering they failed to find a guy the natural way. That included Futaba, but then again, she should not be surprised, considering her looks made it not overly easy. Vivian sure would not have it any easier either, as she could not remember any guy being into her type during her high school years. They all wanted usually the thin chick with long hair and perfect style. Fang had fulfilled that type for a while, though her personality made her not the superstar in school, she wished to be.

"Y-you are spending money on a guy?!" she gasped. "That's not right, if anything, the guy should give you money, for that you even bless him with your presence alone?!" Even if Vivian was no supermodel now, neither Fang, she was fun, hella fun - to the point, that she sometimes felt jealous at her. The same kind of jealousy, she felt towards Ryuto, for being such a shit smart guy, who seemed to have a comeback for everything. Her eyes widened upon hearing Vivian say, she actually felt lonely without her. It touched a spot in her heart, from which she had not known that it really could exist. "Ugh, don't say that..." Never she felt this guilty, but also loved?! Desired?! What was the right word? She does not recall anyone ever saying for missing her, not like this, that they would seriously end up going to a host club.

"I can cuddle you too?!" Her voice seemed to almost crack as she spread her arms but unlike by Ryuto, she actually reached for Vivian, hugging her midsection with her face pressed against her abdomen. As hot muscles could be, Vivian's tummy was far more comfortable. She had been guilty to like Idachi's too, who was not really working out so much either. That guy could only dream to obtain an Adonis body like ... a guy like Han, for sure that guy had almost no fat. Scary. "I can't believe, you really started talking with a guy..." she mumbled and pouted slightly, as it sounded like, that she seemed to be very successful with it. Then again it was a host, so he was probably catering to her wishes. "But I get it," she admitted, once leaning back, considering how she sought out the presence of a guy in her life too. And usually not just from one. "... so does that mean, you would love having a boyfriend, hm? How does this host guy even look? Is he really that good, ... well must be... but don't overdo it, this sure can quickly turn into overspending, like on those damned gacha games, ... because you want that one hot skin..." Sighs.

#╳ ——「 query.」 #unladielike #fang: tell me everything #asdfgh

[uravitypng]

Ouuu, may I participate in this cute Valentine event? 👉👈 Hm, if I can, I'd like to pick Hawks from MHA as my guy of choice <33

I'm a 170 cm, chubby/curvy gal with dark blonde hair and glasses. (Hawks is barely taller than me lololol) Idk if you know mbti and star signs so I'll throw them in just in case - I'm a cancer enfp! Personality wise, I've been told that I am very doting, honest, bold, outgoing, affectionate, clingy, witty and friendly! I'm not shy when it comes to talking to strangers, especially if they catch my eye. (Physical touch is also a massive love language of mine!!!!) Although, I do unfortunately get embarrassed way too easily sometimes. I wouldn't call myself a true extrovert as I do have my moments but I'm much better than most of my friends, who are almost Shigaraki level shut ins.

My hobbies include - reading, writing, listening to scary stories and podcasts, watching tv shows/anime, and just overall being a big goofball with my friends! I love them sm, they're so cute <333

For my bad side, I have this habit about keeping my feelings locked up until I burst but that's usually only in very extreme cases. I am very sensitive and pick up a lot of little things that most people don't see and it freaks them out sometimes. This also depends on who you ask because you either love it or hate it but I can get a bit too random sometimes. I just kind of say what's on my mind, no matter how unhinged. It might sound quirky on paper but it's not always the case lmao, trust me.

I'm not exactly sure what else to add. If there's anything else, feel free to let me know!!

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐒…

have surprised romantic attraction!

- hawks never thought he'd have any romantic feelings towards anyone. he's not exactly the playboy personality that the media show him as but he doesn't have the desire to date anyone. that is until he met you of course. - how could he not fall in love with you? you met by chance and he was drawn to how honest you were, calling him out on his bullshit. whenever he'd smile was too bright and too forced at fans you'd say, you'd say when he played up his flirty personality. - he felt like you saw the real him, everything about you made you him feel that way. - you show genuine affection towards him, keigo, not pro hero hawks. sure you love the side of him that saves people every day and captures villains but you love keigo more, when he doesn't have to put on any mask or act any way for the public, when he can be his complete self. he loves when that happens because no one has given him that real affection through most of his life. - hawks thrives off embarrassing you since it happens too easy, he thinks its cute. - whenever your feelings burst out after bottling them up for so long, he doesn't change his opinion of you in anyway whatsoever. instead he'll try and make light of the situation and buy you something from the shops that you like or offer to give you a 'free flight' taking you high up to a tall building where you can look at the city below you and pretty sky. - being so outgoing is great because you can go to parties and functions with you as his plus one, being able to talk to everyone without feeling nervous, even if they're strangers - physical contact?? oh yeah. he can't keep his hands off you. he thinks you're so beautiful and he loves going up behind you and grabbing you by your waist

you and hawks are literally perfect together oh my god!

valentine's day event

#♡ mine / event #♡ keigo #i hope you enjoy <3 #hawks #keigo takami #/////////// #hawks headcanons

[sybaritick]

let's have even more self-indulgent of a post than usual today: feeding kink/weight gain galetash under the cut because they have been on my mind so much recently so of course. i must.

(and maybe posting it like this will help me keep this sort of thing out of the longer fic... starting a "cut sections" secondary doc that's 90% unhinged fat fetishism...)

Gortash loomed above him, gripping the meat of his upper arm, bearing down on him like a black shadow.

Gale had gotten fat; not just a bit softer, but with a visible gut that bulged out above the belt of his robes, fed and fattened by the sweets Gortash was all to happy to push onto his plate. He had steadily gotten fatter, the longer he had been here– pampered by servants, letting an appetite creep up on him that he hadn’t realized he had been growing until he noticed how much more he was eating than the archduke was.

“You look good like this,” Gortash murmured, lips against Gale’s shoulder.

“Fat?” Gale answered.

He looked as if he would have spoken more, but waited for a moment, too curious for the other's response.

“Yes. It’s almost impressive just how plump you’ve gotten. You really do take to the lifestyle well, don’t you? A fat nobleman who’d take the shirts off the peasants’ backs. I underestimated you. And your assistance with the trade with the East, through Cormyr…”

He thumbed at a Thayan ring on Gale’s index finger, tracing the intricate runes. “And you just can’t stop eating,” he added reverently, groping at Gale’s lower belly.

“All part of some greater ploy on your part, to be sure. Perhaps you’re convinced I’ll be afraid to return to Waterdeep as twice the man I was. Rest assured I will be returning anyway.”

Gortash smiled evenly. “Not everything has to be so well-planned.”

“Don’t insult me by suggesting I haven’t been well aware of what you’ve been doing.”

“Hm?” Enver offered.

“At first I imagined it was some sense of hospitality– whether you wanted me to feel more at home, or just feel more in your debt, I couldn’t say.”

Gortash did crack a smile at this, intentionally or not.

“But the quantity– oh, I’m afraid that gave away the game, Enver,” Gale continued.

“And yet you certainly ate it all.”

“I can’t deny I noticed a certain twitch in your eye when you walked by my desk and saw I had already eaten the truly unreasonable number of pastries you’d offered me with my coffee. And so fattening, too. Not some lighter Amnian fare, no– this was the Gate’s finest, the taste of the butter thick on my tongue with each bite. You didn’t simply want to treat me– you’d ruin me.”

“And you’d allow it.”

#cal txt #fandom #bg3 #my writing

[nostalgicatsea]

5-fic self-rec!

Thanks for tagging me for this, @oluka (and the last line thing too except I had to pass on that one because I haven't written anything in a while other than the last excerpt I posted on here 😅).

Except for "Apricity," which is near and dear to my heart despite how much I itch to edit it (a constant issue I have with things I write), I went with some of my favorites that have flown under the radar.

Hm...this ended up more of a "hey, good job, me" post than a "I'm trying to find what's compelling about these fics to rec them" post. Oh well.

In order of publication:

Apricity (616 Steve/Tony, T, 1.5k)

My first fic on AO3! My first Steve/Tony fic! And somehow it was 616 instead of MCU. I love dark Steve, but I'm particular with how exactly he's unhinged and this is how I like him. Even-keeled despite being off his rocker. Rational in his own head. Soured on the world, but in a way that pushes who he is to the extremes so his core is still visible even if it's mottled with rot. And, of course, obsessed with Tony. I also like the tempo of this; I used to have a good grasp on tempo, but I feel like I've lost that a bit over the years.

Unraveled (Warrior (2011) gen fic, G, 1k)

Since it's a movie that doesn't have a lot of fanworks for it and it's a gen fic to boot, barely anyone has read this, but I don't care because it was written for a friend, @luxover. I love writing little stories to gift friends. If you haven't watched Warrior, watch it! Brutal tearjerker about a broken family and broken men and one of the few good sports movies out there. No, you don't need to know anything about MMA to enjoy it. I don't.

Okay, I should talk about this ficlet. I'm fond of this one because it's so different from my usual writing. It's stream-of-consciousness and entirely voice-driven like someone sat you down in Brendan's head and he's talking and talking even if he naturally isn't saying of this out loud. Because he and his brother Tommy are emotionally constipated; even if they love each other a lot, they don't know how to reach out to each other. They don't know if they're wanted. This also has one of my favorite last lines I've ever written. GUT PUNCH, if I do say so myself. ONE-TWO HIT, K.O. Sums up every layer of their relationship.

Hidden Declaration (Brad/Ray (Generation Kill), T, 728 words)

Another gift for a friend (the same friend)! Brad/Ray and MCU Steve/Tony share some similarities despite being drastically different, so is it any surprise I liked these two unhinged idiots? I never open for fic prompts, but this was when I was on a roll and then I got scared because lux asked for this. I never wrote for Gen Kill, I read maybe 3 GK fics in my life, and Ray is one of those characters who are impossible to write well imo (to be honest, I also feel the same way about Brad though the difficulty is subtler). He's an unusual guy with a very particular way of speaking.

And somehow this flowed out of me quickly. It's not without its flaws, but it was so different from what I usually write and how I do that it was really fun to write this! Very dialogue-heavy too which isn't what I'm known for. And the crassest (also...some language that's not okay as a warning, but if you know GK, it comes with the territory) and most sexual (it's still not very sexual lol) out of my fics. I think I captured how much they're best friends and they're so comfortable in each other's presence well. Plus I put a little wink for my friend at the end and it's one of the few times I like being indulgent with my writing. Also, tattoo fics are a trope and I guess this counts as my one tattoo fic though it's not an AU and there's no actual tattooing involved.

A Long, Final Rest Among the Stars (MCU Tony-centric/Nebula & Tony gen fic, G, 2.7k)

My tribute to best boy Tony, my first and ultimate love (along with Steve, of course) along with an expansion of the lovely bits of Nebula and Tony's tender friendship that we got to see in IW which I adored. They share a lot in common.

Writing this made me so sad because I felt like I was preparing to say goodbye to Tony. It made me reminisce about how it all started, and everything came full circle. His past is his present. Tony's trapped on a dark spaceship injured and far, far away from home. Tony's trapped in a dark cave injured and far, far away from home. There's a kind spirit with him, and even if they try to keep him alive, he's a dead man walking. But he's also come a long way from the man he used to be. I'M REALLY PROUD OF HIM, OKAY? I LOVE HIM.

The Burning of Flowers (616 Steve/Tony, G, 1.2k)

I secretly really, really wish more people read this fic. I wanted to write a Hanahaki AU for a while, but I couldn't figure out what I'd do that would feel fresh and then I came up with this subversion of sorts. Hanahaki AUs usually involve someone pining for their love and refusing to let go of it because it means so much to them. I thought I'd write about someone who doesn't have it—and simultaneously wants and doesn't want it—and wishes ill on the person he loves by hoping their love has it. And what better era to situate it than Hickmanvengers? You don't need to know Hickmanvengers to enjoy it, though.

I'm extremely proud of this one because it's one of the best fics I've written if I'm allowed to toot my own horn for a sec! Please let me because it's so rare for me to feel like I don't want to rip apart chunks of my fics and sew them back whole again, new and improved. I think this is one of my most complete fics in that way; I can probably tweak it, but I'm satisfied with nearly all of it if not all of it.

Anyway, I was in a slump and then suddenly the old magic returned and I slipped back into the writing style I used to have back in the mid-2010s except better. I could actually see that I've developed as a writer even if I'm still learning. But the atmosphere, the sensory lines, and the rhythm returned. I like the pace of this a lot and feel like it follows Steve's relentless rage, much like the unmoored, slower pace of "Apricity" reminds me of a colder Steve who never fully woke up from the ice.

Tagging @kiyaar, @meidui, @sineala, @whenas-in-silks, @sabrecmc, @magicasen, and two artists (rec your art!<3): @kappamairi & @massivespacewren

#me: i have no fears #me: what if people don't like these fics and that's why they're underrated #one (1) fear....except kdfjksafjalfjla i don't really care because i enjoyed writing these and that's what's important! #i don't care if i'm embarrassing myself because maybe i should take a break on getting annoyed at myself when it comes to writing #and pat myself on the back for doing the best i could at the time and still liking these now #okay i need to sleep soon bye

[narrators-journal]

hi gib unhinged knifeplay jun w tatsuya for kinktober bc u love me <3

Not much to say, I do adore you, and I hope you enjoy <3

Kinktober prompt list: Here

Kinktober masterlist: Here

CW: Knifeplay, Jun's a lil nutty, blood is drawn and tasted

Tatsuya had never thought he’d actually manage to marry the love of his life, yet there he was. Standing in their kitchen, washing pans and plates for that night’s dinner while Jun stood a bit away chopping washed carrots in a comfortable silence.

Glancing at the ravenette, Tatsuya smiled slightly. Even dressed in a ratty old t-shirt and pajama pants, with his bangs pushed back out of his dark eyes, the ravenette still seemed to bewitch the old wildcard. In fact, the domesticity of their married life as a whole was one of Tatsuya’s favorite things about his life. If he’d only known that all of his torment and hell would end in him getting to safely marry his childhood love, maybe he wouldn’t have resigned so easily to the fate of eternally being alone. Yet, as he stared into the sudsy water, mulling over his contentment, he couldn’t shake the sense that something had gotten lost in that comfort.

It wasn’t some midlife itch for excitement, the brunette had been through two seperate lifetimes of thrill and adventure, he didn’t even understand how Eikichi had the energy to still pursue his dreams of being a rockstar after everything, let alone wanting more of it for himself. Yet, he did want something fresh, he just couldn’t place how to get it.

Not because Jun or him were prudes, Tatsuya didn’t have many kinks, but he still kept his stash of handcuffs and blindfolds. Though, he could admit that it had been a while since they’d tried anything else.

However, before he could even make a move to bully himself for any inkling of being bland, he felt his husband’s warm hand slip under the back of his shirt a moment before something colder bit into his skin. A slow trail being drawn up along his back to force his spine to straighten on instinct. “What the fuck?!” He yelped, spinning around to find that Jun was the culprit. Standing behind him, his knife wiped clean of carrot to instead cut into him.”Jun! The hell was that for?” He asked, relaxing slightly, only to be filled with confusion. “I want to cut you.” “Heh?!” the ravenette put a hand up to signal Tatsuya to let him explain, so, despite the many questions running circles in his head, the brunette let him speak.

“I want to try something.” He began simply, stepping closer to his husband, wrapping an arm around his waist, “While I do have a blast sleeping with you, I think we can both admit that we’ve fallen into a routine,” he continued, taking the purse of Tatsuya’s lips and glance away as confirmation of his words, “I want to try something new. A little more exciting than our usual, that’s all.” With that, he wiggled the blade in his fingers, pressing himself to Tatsuya to trap the taller man between himself and the sink as he eyed the knife and thought. “Why...exactly the cutting, though?” He asked tentatively, his hazel eyes returning to Jun’s to watch his husband shrug, “I’ve wanted to use a knife for a while now. I always thought you were very pretty covered in your own blood~” He hummed, oddly bringing a heat to the brunette’s cheeks when he ghosted the blade over his shirt to trace a heart shape over his pec. “Of course, we don’t have to, but I think it’s worth a shot to at least try it, hm?” With that, the shaggy haired male smiled sweetly at the brunette. Putting the knife on the counter to simply hug his husband.

I mean, I was just thinking of that… Tatsuya mused, mindlessly putting his arms loosely around his partner in return, and, I do trust him. He might be a little nuts, but he wouldn’t hurt me too bad. Plus, he’d stop if I said, so… The brunette let out a slow breath, “Fine, but...don’t, like, carve your name in my ass.” He said, making Jun laugh, “Aw! But how will everyone know you’re mine?~” He pouted playfully, making Tatsuya laugh in turn, “You already have a ring on my finger! And a curse jar at the ready for Lisa! I think they know, junbug.” the debate was paused so the brunette could kiss his husband, letting him slip his hands back under his shirt to feel along his softened body, no longer toned by hours of fighting or thinned by growth spurts.

Breaking the kiss to pull the shirt over Tatsuya’s head, Jun added with an amused hum, “I really hope Lisa’s not on any list of people who might see your ass,” Making Tatsuya snort, “She’s not, I promise you that.” Chuckling again, the ebony-haired witch pulled him into another quick kiss, yet stopped the brunette from herding him towards their room. Instead, he grabbed the knife again and used it to gesture to one of the chairs sat at their kitchen table.

So, without questioning it, Tatsuya went ahead and sat where he was directed. Going ahead and kicking his pajama pants off when he saw his husband doing the same. Watching as the dark-haired man came and sat in his lap, kissing a trail along his jaw to his throat, nibbling a few spots to get the brunette to jolt or gasp and fan the lascivious embers in his belly.

Then, leaning back, he gave the brunette a sweet smile and started off gentle. Only dragging the sharp blade down Tatsuya’s arm, not cutting him, only enjoying the way the mere chance of pain made his husband tense. Which, to the taller man’s surprise, was far more erotic than he’d first thought. Not quite the thought of the kitchen knife drawing blood, but just the hint of measured danger, and letting his husband indulge. That’s what sent sparks through the brunette’s blood when his partner moved the knife to his sternum. Giving him a small look of ‘get ready’ before proceeding to let the cold edge of the knife bite into Tatsuya’s skin slowly, dragging out the sting until it curled his lip and left a thin line of red welling up on his chest. A hiss slipping out when Jun finally pulled the blade away. “You sure you’re okay with this?” The witch asked, tilting his head slightly as he watched the blood well to the surface. “Yeah...just hurts,” The brunette muttered, swiping the blood off of himself before it could trickle down his stomach, making Jun hum before grabbing his hand to lick the crimson off of his finger. Which...shouldn’t have sent such an electrifying rush to the man’s groin, yet he was sure his husband felt him twitch beneath him, judging from the way he smirked, “Uh...but it...doesn’t feel as bad after the initial cut.” He assured, glancing down at Jun’s bare thighs, then at his pajama pants on the kitchen floor.

His answer was another amused hum from his husband before he pressed his cheek into Tatsuya’s palm, drawing his hazel eyes away from the floor to lock onto the shining silver blade of the kitchen knife as Jun teasingly ghosted it down his arm, making sure to keep it perpendicular to his limb and to keep the pressure gentle so that he didn’t cause too much of a bloodbath. Which, stirred up more of that confusing heat in Tatsuya’s belly.

On one hand, the lethal weapon in Jun’s hand needled into his anxieties each time the blade nipped his skin. On the other, that lethal weapon was in Jun’s hand, and while Tatsuya could see an unnerving spark of madness in his husband’s dark eyes, he couldn’t help but trust him with his entire body. So, as much as it hurt when Jun drug the point just over his collar bone and back down his sternum to leave a pink cat scratch leading into the blood-dotted cut he’d made before, it equally sent a rush through Tatsuya’s blood with each throb of dull pain in it’s wake. “Y’know, I don’t have to only indulge in my kinks, honeysuckle. Maybe next time we could try something you’re into.~” Jun offered, his flirtatious suggestion a dry log on the lascivious bonfire in Tatsuya’s stomach, earning another smirk before the witch leaned forward to kiss the brunette. Happily drinking down the moan Tatsuya let out and wiggling his hips to earn another.

Not bothering to respond, Tatsuya simply wrapped his arms around his husband, sliding his hand under the permanently-stained t-shirt to enjoy the way his partner arched into him with his own hum. Breaking the kiss to smile at him before he pushed himself back so he sat up properly in the brunette’s lap, the knife still in hand. “I’m gonna go fetch the lube,” He said, sliding off of his husband’s legs to stand up, making Tatsuya almost jolt out of the kitchen chair when he suddenly stabbed the kitchen knife into the seat, leaving it standing between Tatsuya’s thighs, “then I’m gonna ride you like a fuckin’ bronco. Don’t move.” He said, and if the blade sitting with the sharp side towards Tatsuya’s erection wasn’t enough, the dark tone lacing Jun’s words were enough to make the brunette nod and stay firmly put. Only watching his husband stroll out of the kitchen as if they were doing nothing more risque than having couch sex.

Tatsuya really should not have been as turned on by that as he was.

Yet, his husband just had that power over him. Even in his moments of lunacy, Tatsuya couldn’t help but get a thrill out of it. Perhaps to cope with how similar his husband could get to Joker, or maybe he was just as crazy.

Yet, those thoughts were sent skittering back to the corners of Tatsuya’s mind when the ebony-haired witch yanked the knife free of the chair and pointed it at Tatsuya’s nose, a hair’s breadth from him. “Up, Tatsu.” He ordered, lowering the blade when the brunette jumped to his feet and obediently discarded his boxers. Letting the smaller male push him back into the seat, Tatsuya instinctively put his hands on his husband’s hips to help the inky-haired florist position himself to lower onto his cock. Shuddering when Jun let out a shameless moan as he was filled, wiggling his hips again to lure out tatsuya’s own lewd moan.

Only to swiftly cut into his thigh with his knife when the brunette did, earning a mix of a moan and a yelp instead. “What was that for?!” The taller male huffed, his husband simply giggling, “I just think your pained and shocked noises are cute~” He admitted, bringing the knife back between them and patting his cheek with the cold metal and leaving a light line of red of his husband’s blood on his cheek. Meanwhile, Tatsuya’s face had a tinge of pink for a more internal reason, which got another giggle and earned him another heated kiss from the witch before Jun began grinding and bouncing on his cock. Filling the kitchen with the sound of skin on skin and soft sighs and moans, clawing the back of the kitchen chair Tatsuya sat in, letting the brunette claw into his hips as he moved.

Yet, even with his partner’s hips moving and giving delicious friction, the taller male couldn’t forget the shiny kitchen knife his husband held. Shuddering in a mix of fear and desire when Jun drug the tip across his throat, just hard enough to bite into the skin without drawing real blood before he lowered his head to nip and suck at the aggitated skin. Sending bolts of electricity through Tatsuya’s blood once again to mix with the building warmth Jun’s slow, methodical movements stoked. In return, the brunette took a deep breath and let it out as a pleased sigh, laying his head back to give his husband full reign of his throat and succumbing to the euphoric fog that devoured his thoughts one by one.

With that lascivious coil tightening more in his belly, the only thing the wildcard could focus on was the lewd mix of his husband’s moans and sighed curses, skin slapping skin, and the cool contrast of the kitchen knife Jun kept hold of to knick and scratch him as he went. “Don’t space out too hard, Tatsu.” He breathed, hooking an arm around his neck to make him lift his head again, “Or I’ll leave more than a few cat scratches.” The warning making the brunette’s cock throb more, which got an evil grin out of his husband and earned him another kiss.

Though, Tatsuya’s thoughts were too scattered at that point. He’d given into the surprisingly strong pull of arousal, he couldn’t pull himself free that easily. Which, Jun seemed aware of, as he simply used the increasing haze of lust in his husband’s eyes as an excuse to draw more blood in slower, torturous cuts to the man’s chest. Giving a surprised moan when Tatsuya abruptly thrust up into him, “Easy,” He warned, slamming his hips down and pausing any of his movements in revenge, menacing the sharp blade again at the brunette’s throat while his dark eyes shone with a lot more of a hot sort of madness that took Tatsuya’s breath. “Just because I’m riding you doesn’t mean you have any more dominance here than usual.”

Despite that, when he did return to moving, he did pick up the pace. Moaning along with the brunette as the heat in his blood increased and the spring in his stomach tightened again. “Jun!” He partially whined, silenced by his husband’s mouth on his, knife forgotten as they both gave in and chased the head-rush of euphoria. Letting the throb of cuts stoke the flames with each brush of Jun’s shirt against them until that spring finally snapped with a gasped, “Fuck!” and a blinding rush of pleasure that took what breath was left in Tatsuya’s lungs.

And for a moment, he simply soaked in the thoughtless buzz and let his breathing even out once again. Hardly having the mental focus to contemplate how long it had been since his entire body had felt that weak after an orgasm. Speaking of orgasms, he blinked back to the moment, wrapping his arms around the boneless heap laying with his head on his shoulder and nuzzled his husband. “You came, right?” He checked gently, rubbing circles into the witch’s back until he’d come down enough to nod and push himself back up. “Your blood tastes like motor oil.” Was the first words out of the disshevelled man’s mouth, and Tatsuya could almost hear a record screech. “Excuse me? Does it really?” He asked, Jun just snorting, “Do you really wanna know how your blood tastes?” He asked in return, threading his fingers through the brunette’s hair as he weighed that thought. “No.” “Exactly. Now, let’s get you cleaned up, honeysuckle. Then we can order out for tonight.” he hummed, giving him a softer peck before pulling himself up with a small hum, letting his husband support a bit of his weight until they were sure he could safely stand. Then, he simply pulled on his boxers and went to get the first aid kit.

Showers and laundry were definitely on the to-do list, but for the time being, the pair focused on cleaning and bandaging the cuts Jun had left on Tatsuya, and cuddling up as they ordered a pizza for the night.

#Persona 2 #Tatsujun #Persona #ask #Tatsuya Suou x Jun Kurosu #persona 2 protagonist x Jun Kurosu #spicy #Kinktober 2023 #kinktober #Tatsuya Suou #Jun Kurosu #not sfw

[titleknown]

HELLOWEEN #19: HARLAHAN

-HARLAHAN is a High Buffoon of Hell, with 22 Gladiatorial circuses and 16 eggs of slain High Buffoons. He may teach in the arts of performance and clowning, cause uproarious laughter to the point of pain in the summoner's enemies, and summon great carnivals and places of entertainment.

He appears as a hideous clown with an arm like a bullwhip and the neck of a snake, with one shriveled dragon's wing behind his back-

Torture in Hell is, like most things, a cutthroat competition, so a look at what is considered the "up-and-comers" is perhaps always worthwhile when analyzing. 

Such is the case with Harlahan. The entry in the Last Testament appears to have been written before his entry into the field of torture, and the records corroborate this.

He appears to have a background in entertainment, a ruthless field in Hell as the eggs containing the essences of other entertainers he... well, his word for it was "scrambled," can attest. They were, however, doubled from the amount he was stated as having in the Last Testament, perhaps a sign of the times. 

Torture is a difficult business to break into at the best of times, and his explanation was that he did something "very funny" that got the attention of those who approve of such things. Judging by the records (mostly redacted) it involved creating a large quantity of corpses.

I must mention, Our "interview" was less an interview and more akin to a sideshow patter, introducing me to his operation in a way that was perhaps akin to a public reputation skit in its attempts to misdirect from any potential failings...

...Hm, I know a stage magician who might have advice on mitigating this matter, noted for later, but I digress. But I did notice some tells. 

The prospective torture schema, small scale though they seemed, bore a striking resemblance to the works of Trixoin, not simply in their pacing but even in the core "beats." This seemed to grant them a very confused quality, where they appeared to be emulating both Hell's standard facilities of torture with the methods of Trixoin but ultimately having the advantages of neither.

When asked about this, he paused for a moment, his jocular grin turned sour. Then, as I was about to follow up, the band began to play "Stars and Stripes Forever" very loudly, followed by him stating he could not hear my question and ushering me onward.

Though, I did notice the rapid movement of the crew, and the fact that certain refurbishments seemed somewhat slapdash as I moved through the location, almost Potempkin in quality.

I would have done a follow-up with Trixoin upon this issue, but she appeared to be out on business that an imp told me involved acquiring a large amount of explosives. Hm...

-Xavier X. Xolomon , Monsterologist and Understudy to The Librarian Of Babel

--------------------------------

You can probably tell I used a picture of a Joker action figure as a base for this one, and the vibes kinda followed from there to do that sort of "evil clown" thing.

Though, of course, they're a very different shitty clown than The Joker, less unhinged more ruthless plagarist and "entrepreneur," which I think at least turned out fun.

As per usual the whole descriptions, designs, ectcetera from this project are free to use as you see fit under a CC-BY 4.0 license so long as I; Thomas F. Johnson, am credited as their creator!

#my art #my writing #helloween #demon #demons #creature design #character design #clown #harlequin

[wo-onu]

Is it cool to request Haejoon’s reaction to his crush who is a friend to him, seeking advice on confessing to someone they love who is not him? It’s fine to do a headcanon or a oneshot, it’s up to you :)

thank you so much for requesting, starburst777 ♡ this was a fun request to write because it’s cool to explore just how unhinge my ocs can be. i hope this is to your liking! if there’s anything else, don’t hesitate to tell me ♡ [also sorry it took some time to post/answer ㅠㅡㅠ]

╰₊✧ ﾟ⚬𓂂➢ [haejoon character profile]

* ・✦⇢ contents :: yandere!oc with a darling who wants to confess to someone else [hcs + scenarios] 1.9k

* ・✦⇢ warnings/cw :: general yandere themes, manipulative behaviour, slight coercion.

* ・✦⇢ additional notes :: can be read as gender neutral. no particulars were described.

* :: [important ! the use of -ah in one’s name can determine closeness or affection towards another person. usually used by an older gen but people close in age or the same age friend groups also use as a way of casual speaking.

* saying ya/yah (an informal way of saying hey) is considered rude when saying to an older person even if they’re only a year older or even someone who has a higher rank than you (eg. if you’re superior or any sunbae at a workplace is younger than you, formal speech will still apply to them even if they’re younger)

* sunbae = senior , hoobae = junior]

* :: likes/reblogs and feedbacks are always appreciated! my ask is open for reqs~

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~ ☆゜haejoon with a darling who wants to confess to someone else !

ʚ ﹒ ﹕ ̟乀 kang haejoon !

* `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ in this scenario, it will be more hypothetical and just talks about confessing to someone. it was sort of the aftermath of your break up with someone; haejoon and you were alone in a club room, waiting for everyone else to arrive as only the both of you had an empty schedule before club time.

* `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ in this scenario, it will be more hypothetical and just talks about confessing to someone. it was sort of the aftermath of your break up with someone; haejoon and you were alone in a club room, waiting for everyone else to arrive as only the both of you had an empty schedule before club time.

“sunbae, have you ever dated?” haejoon’s expression remained calm; however, if you looked closely, you can see that his pupils were shaking. he was stuck because he once read in some sort of self help book that talking about your past relationships with a person you’re interested with will never be a good thing. mind going about a hundred miles per second, he settled on honesty. if it was anyone else, he’d bury it and take it to his grave, instead, it was you. you will appreciate his honestly more than any sort of falseness.

“huh... well, not really? honestly... it’s a bit embarrassing to say but i haven’t been with anyone at all,” he sheepishly replied. he doesn’t particularly care about having relationships because he generally don’t really see people as people, he just doesn’t know whether he will look uncool because of his inexperience in your eyes. that was his only concern.

truthfully, if he hadn’t memorised you, he might think you’re finally gaining an interest in him. but he has to remind himself over and over— albeit, only in his own head— that this is you. you’re not asking because you see him as a potential love interest, you’re only asking because of pure curiosity.

he was proven right moments later when you told him, “i’ve been thinking... about relationships and stuff”

with an aching heart, despite trying to convince himself he didn’t have any expectations anyway, he could only reply with a soft “oh yeah? lets hear it, [name]-ah”

“hm... i was thinking, i thought that back then, romantic relationships were very important. but now that i’ve experienced it, it just feels like... every other relationship. um, how do i say this....” he only looks at you, encouraging you to continue with a rare small smile.

“whether it’s friendships, relationships, or whatever... anyways, it’s just like any other person to person type of relationship, nothing more and nothing less? just like... how i try to be considerate and somehow mindful towards people i consider friends or family, a romantic partnership is TJE same. so that... i couldn’t just accept anyone’s confessions just because i thought i wouldn’t be able to date in this lifetime...” as you say that, haejoon’s eyes widen just a tiny bit, and for some reason, you could see relief on his face. you continued, “and also... you know too, right sunbae? everyone always says i’m too pessimistic and that i do not know how to love someone... i just thought if i get into a relationship... it may not seem that way as much anymore.”

“so, you’re saying that you accepted because you thought this was your only chance? and it wasn’t that you liked him?”

“well... yea? i guess i had a positive feeling about him somewhat for me to accept him right?”

“hm... then, wasn’t that just because you were dating him in name?”

a pregnant pause came as you could only gape as you ponder over your sunbae’s words. it wasn’t entirely impossible. in fact, if you were being honest, it was more possible than it was impossible.

“perhaps... i was really curious about what it was like dating because everyone kept making a fuss about it. it felt like i only liked the title so i... huh”

“well, it’s a bit of a shock,” he reached out to play with the ends of your hair, a sly smile on his lips, “worrying that nobody will like you...” he paused, seemingly shy.

“if you ever want anyone, just have me. go come to me,”

“what the... sunbae! are you tempted by me too? eyyy~ don’t be like that, it’s exhausting to be this wanted~”

haejoon burst into a fit of laughter, holding onto your shoulders as he laughed soundlessly, body shaking.

“well, why not~ let’s go build an empire together once you graduate~”

“....sunbae, on the other hand, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea. i want to establish a good company, too.”

“right? doesn’t it sound nice?”

present

* `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ in this instance, if you love someone who is not haejoon, he will honestly gaslight you to hell just so you will think and convince yourself otherwise.

* `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ if he was just a bit more sane and normal, he would’ve let you experience those things and let you go. but haejoon has long since realised that he’s not exactly normal and that he’s not exactly willing to let you go, despite never having the guts to confess. however, no other people are allowed. this time, he’s not willing to let you go roam and explore those type of feelings if not with him.

* `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ reuniting with you made him so, so happy. and in his mind, if this isn’t fate, then what is? therefore, he decided that he’s ready to own you completely. after all, he’s let you spread your wings enough all these years, no? but what are you suddenly talking about... having feelings for someone else? loving someone else? why do you have to go and think such useless things when you have him?

“sunbae,” you were hanging out with haejoon, it’s been a few months since both of you has reunited. and if you’re being honest, you were slightly disappointed in yourself that you let the contact between the two of you vanish once he graduated.

with a quiet hum, he turned to you, head tilted.

“um... this might sound weird but... may i ask for your thoughts?”

“always,”

a slight awkwardness filled you, you’re unsure how to receive your sunbae’s boundless affection towards you. now that you’re aware that he has always looked out for you instead of what you originally had thought of him trying to bother you then, you don’t know how to make it up to him. not that he wanted you to, but knowing that just doubles the mix of guilt and gratefulness you felt towards him.

“i just wanted to get your advice on something...” you looked away, fiddling with your fingers anxiously.

“anything,” he said with a slight smile.

“you see... i think... this time, i’ve... finally... f-fallen for someone,” your face was calm, however, haejoon could notice the slight flush and shyness you’re feeling. gripping the end of your sleeves, you look at him expectantly.

haejoon’s mind was working harder than ever before. truthfully, his time away from you should’ve dulled his feelings and yet, here he is: he didn’t think it was possible for him to have such a devastating devotion towards you even more now, but he was proven wrong the day he met you once again. of course, it wasn’t like he was totally unprepared for that. not when his hired informants had told him that you’re frequently in that area. that’s right, your accidental reunion wasn’t so accidental, after all. if need be, he will make it your absolute fate to be tied to him one way or another.

“you think?” a pause, “hmm... based on my observations ever since we’ve met again, you don’t seem so in love though? ya, my precious hoobae~ won’t you trust this sunbae who knows you more than anyone, hm?”

“oh. is that so?” you slight frown, unconvinced. you were quite a self aware person, but it is also quite true that your sunbae knows you more than anyone you know, probably even yourself. what if you’re just convincing yourself of liking someone just to prove you can once again?

“it might not be the case but... i want you to be absolutely sure, since you are such a precious person to me,” he smiled, clutching your hands as if to relay his sincerity.

“that’s true too... but sunbae, if my feelings are serious, you will support me right? i mean, i don’t know about these things and since you’re also a guy... it might help getting your perspective.”

“yes, of course. i’ll gladly help my [yn]-ah with everything.”

“thanks... i feel strangely comforted with that,”

haejoon beamed, happy that you feel at ease with him now. back then, it was so hard even just getting a meal or being alone with you. he could feel the alertness and wariness in your entire body. you hid it well but never from him; to him you were like a hissing cat that you yourself seem to adore. but now, it felt like you truly have warmed up to him and even initiate closing the gap between the two of you.

if that was the case, how could he ever let himself allow anyone else to have you now? even if it is your will, he simply can’t allow such a thing to happen. not again. if you truly wanted to confess, a little threat to that useless person will be easy. after that, he will be your only support through the inevitable heartbreak it will cause. he also has the option to send that bastard far, far away. he knows you might not be willing to start a long distance relationship, especially if it’s something new.

he ran every single possible scenario in his head and calculated that no matter what, it will be a win for him. therefore, all he did was caress your hands a little.

“[yn]-ah... you haven’t forgotten have you?” lost in your own self-reflection, his voice brought you back to life.

“hm, yes? yeah?”

“i told you before, right?” there was something strangely seductive in his eyes, mouth slightly curved into a smile, “if you want to have anyone, just come to me. you can have me,” instead of the unworthy people that seems to hover around you.

“what...” a dumbfounded pause, “what are you talking about again?!”

“once you find out your real intentions and it turns out you just want someone, don’t go far... just come to me, hm?”

“but...”

“you dislike it? you don’t like the thought of having me?”

“ya! ... this sunbae, don’t say terrible things.. seriously. it’s not that... it’s just,”

ignoring your informal speech despite using honourifics he tried convincing you even further, “i am far more trustworthy than any guy you’ve ever met,”

“that’s debatable,” you jest

“this rude... anyway. you don’t dislike it, right? i don’t think i’m quite a bad catch... although you’re the only girl who’s ever really been not afraid of me... you know it too right? i also don’t have any romantic experience because people are too wary of my background and... my personality.”

“sunbae... has everyone realised your two face? well, you do have quite a terrible personality,”

while it’s true that he was lacking proper dating experience; it was not because of others but him. he had everyone throwing themselves at him so it wasn’t hard to get anyone. he also has a face everyone liked. however, all he could offer those people was a good time in bed to release all his pent up stress. he will never be in a useless relationship when his end goal has always been belonging with you.

“yes, yes. but this time, i really mean it. you know i won’t ever joke about these things right?”

“hmm”

“come on, [yn]-ah. this has never changed back then, it won’t change now.”

“well...”

“let’s date, hm?”

#yandere oc #male yandere oc #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere oc x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #soft yandere #male yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #obsessive yandere #221221 — 20.12 ♡ #new message received ! #won has answered your message !

[that-was-anticlimactic]

X, Y, & Z!

lol hey just remembered that i had these from dec 19th lol i think i was just so mentally unwell at the time that i couldn't actually process the fact that i had asks and was capable of answering them even tho i literally reblogged the ask game lol anyways was going through my drafts and saw this and i'm MUCH better now so i went through and found the game and imma do it now <3

x - a trope which you are almost certain to love in any fandom.

hahhaahhaha character with an inferiority complex learning/being told that they're enough on their own/when those characters get in character content made of them ijuhygtfguiouygf because a lot of times they get misinterpreted or ignored </3 also. hanahaki <3

y - what are your secondhand fandoms (i.e., fandoms you aren’t in personally but are tangentially familiar with because your friends/people on your dash are in them)?

OH! my number one secondhand fandom is wwdts thanks to @chasvchalilah <3 i have my Guy (colin robinson) and i feel like i basically know the whole plot thanks to shira and her incredible patience for all my questions and her kindness in telling me like. literally everything lol actually this reminds me i think the colin post shira tagged me in is in my drafts and that i actually forgot to reblog it. hm. gonna go find it after i post this lol also csm because grace watched it and i know it's not really a show that i'd like so i'm living it vicariously through them and moth and the other csm moots <3

z - just ramble about something fan-related, go go go! (Prompts optional but encouraged.)

ah this is dangerous omg okay oh gosh okay what do i choose okay so this is a very random thing to rant about, but it's fan-related so. but i lowkey hate in chatfics how writers always give characters different contact names. more often than not, i look at them and say "they would never choose that name" / "they would never name that person that" / "they would throw a fit if their name got changed to that" and like. it's just so irritating. i honestly think most blorbos would just call each other by their names in their contacts like. and if you're going to give them "silly" names (bc most times they just... aren't even funny to me personally), they don't even specify who is who! most of the time, i see them say something MAYBE at either the beginning or end of the first chapter and then usually never again even if the characters start changing each other's names! so it's just hard to keep up. i actually love chatfics and think they're such a cool idea and a great creative writing exercise, but they HAVE to be done right because they can go poorly/ooc SO quickly. not all characters use correct grammar, but some do. some will use capitalization and punctuation while others don't. some characters will use emojis or send memes and recite memes, OTHERS WON'T and you NEED to be able to figure this stuff out. also it is SO unrealistic for all the characters to constantly trauma dump because half these characters refuse to "show weakness" or don't know How to talk to people about what's wrong. oH AND ALSO not all characters are so unhinged in chatfics my God the way people write certain characters in how they text and what they text is so icky because it's just too unhinged we gotta stop giving characters that treatment ugh uh anyways also kenji is underused in the show and underrated by fans. there should be more kenji content. also unpopular opinion, but kenji is a more interesting character than chuuya and how does chuuya have like... 20k more fics in the chuuya tag than kenji has in his own tag? nothing against chuuya - i like him! i do! but why is he treated more like a main character than kenji:( maybe i'm just sad bc kenji is my favorite and barely has ANY content. there are SO few kenji-centric fics out there and a lot of them also are kenji & chuuya friendship which... admittedly, i LOVE but i feel like there's more kenji & chuuya than kenji & the ada members which is so sad??? also he deserves better in the show! smh he wasn't even in the s5 trailer (neither were junichiro and naomi ugh so upset about that) like pls. let everyone treat kenji more like an important member of the team bC HE IS😭

#jen tag #uh oh #i am. so sorry. #i have. so many feelings. did NOT mean to go off so much uhhhh #anyways don't even get me started on how chat fics are like... PEAK character analysis and i plan on using that form of writing to help #teach students how to analyze characters when i have my own classroom i literally have lessons planned for it for funsies #anyways also sorry i suck and answered this SOOOOOO late oops #you're amazing - hope you're thriving <3 #corey rambles:)