#i like drawing him a little bit off-model in a slightly different way every time heh

[t00thpasteface]

flying saucers, levitation... yo, i can do that!

#birthday boy!!!!! #i like drawing him a little bit off-model in a slightly different way every time heh #art #dc #superman #clark kent

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Expanding on the nude model idea, AU where Frenchie is an overworked art student and walks into class one day to see that the bane of their existence (Soap) is the nude model they’ll be working on for the next few weeks.

Poor Frenchie 😭 they can’t even escape Soap in a different universe ahaha

I can imagine this being a killer AU though! Soap and Frenchie meet each other in the gym, Soap is doing a sports science degree and basically lives there and Frenchie goes because working out helps them get their energy flowing for their art.

They clash when Soap sees Frenchie lifting a weight slightly wrong and goes to correct them and Frenchie is big mad because he does it so sooo condescendingly. From there on Soap will pass by them, no matter what kind of work out they’re doing, and make snide comments like “forms all wrong” and “that’s how you run?” and “maybe you should try a lower weight, huh?” Frenchie hates it and turns their music up every time, vowing that they will never give into the urge to chuck a dumbbell at Soap because it would undo all the hard work they had put into their degree so far.

Frenchie hates him immensely and Soap lives for the banter they have. However, Soap doesn’t really have much of an idea of who Frenchie is or what they do for their degree, and doesn’t find out until he finds himself in a horrible money situation. He’s running low on funds and his parents won’t send him any money because they want to teach him independence, so he starts looking for ways to cut costs and also make a little extra money while he studies. When he asks one of the university advisors they mention that the art school have a program where they pay people to be nude models. He’s not thrilled at the idea, but he ultimately decides to do it because A he’s desperate for more money because maintaining that gym body and drinking with his friends all the time is EXPENSIVE and B it’s not like he’s self conscious cause *look at him*

Meanwhile, Frenchie is preparing their art supplies and getting their sketchpad ready while professor Price - who leads the art class - introduces the next project. All the students are to be matched up with a model who will pose nude for them, and the students are to fill out a 20 page sketchbook with a full anatomy study of their subject over the course of a month long period.

Frenchie is a bit shy at the prospect of having to draw someone naked, even if they are a professional, and watch as the others in their class are paired off with names on the board. They watch as their friend Alejandro is told to meet with someone called Rodolfo Parra from Engineering and their other friend Gaz is given Simon Riley in Sports Science. Frenchie frowns as they’re told that they’re also Matched up with someone from Sports science and tries to remember why the name John MacTavish sounds so familiar to them…

Price tells the students they can wait to meet their models next class or give them a message before and get to know them a bit first to make them more comfortable with what’s about to take place. Afterwards Frenchie intercepts Gaz as they leave class, once Professor Price dismisses them and ask if he wants to walk to the gym together to find their models. Gaz says sure and smiles at Frenchie, offering them a pat on the shoulder.

“Hard luck on your subject, mate,” he laughs, knowing full well how much Frenchie hates their new model.

“What do you mean? Do you know who that is? The name is so familiar to me, but I can’t figure out why i know it!”

Gaz bites his lip and stares ahead, he’s caught in a cross roads. Should he tell Frenchie or just let them find out. His decision is made when Frenchie death glares at him and shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Frenchie…it’s Soap.”

That’s when the spark of realisation turns to fire in Frenchies eyes. They’re livid.

Frenchie stomps down to the gym and gets right in Soap’s face while he’s in the middle of doing barbell squats - as you can imagine Frenchie is down on their knees glowering up at the Scotsman.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!” Frenchie seethes.

“Em…working out?” Soap grunts, stooping forward so he can stick the barbell on the rack. “I can forgive you for not knowing that though. You’re pretty shite at everything in here.”

“Not-! Ugh, you idiot! You’ve ruined the gym for me and now you’re ruining my course too!”

“Your course?” Soap frowns.

“You signed up to be nude model didn’t you? Or did you not? Please tell me one of your stupid friends signed you up for it or something and this is all just a massive joke, please I can’t-“

“Wait…how’d you find that out?” Soap interrupts, getting antsy over how loudly Frenchie said that, he’d rather the whole gym didn’t know about his last resort money making method.

“Because you’re getting paired up with me for it!” Frenchie says, slapping Soap’s arm. “Price is making me study you and fill a twenty fucking page sketchbook with pictures of your disgusting naked body.”

Frenchie and Soap stare at each other after that and soon they’re put on a level playing field - they both realise what’s about to happen over the next month. Soap tells them that they’re fixing that and they both march back to art class and pretty much pound Price’s office door in just so that they can speak to him. Price is thoroughly taken off guard as they both start screeching at him about the arrangement and has to shout at them to be quiet and directs them to speak one at a time. After hearing that they want to switch partners, Price denies them and tells them the partners are fixed. Soap can either drop out and lose out on getting any money, or Frenchie can drop out of his class and say goodbye to their degree for lack of professionalism. Obviously neither of them want to back down, so they slump out of the room defeated when they realise the arrangement will go on as planned.

The next class after that is awkward for Frenchie. Soap comes in wearing a robe and sits on his little stool in front of them. They’re both in the art class with all the other artists and models all spread out across the room, and they’re in the corner next to one of the frosted windows so that there’s a dramatic clash of light and shadow. Frenchie tries to keep their mind on this - the lighting - and tries not to think too much about who the lighting will be cast on. Similarly Soap is sitting there staring up to the ceiling and cursing his parents for trying to teach him financial independence at a time like this.

Price comes into the room and gives everyone a short introduction, reiterating to the artists and models exactly what’s going to happen and advises the artists to use a variety of mediums and make far more than twenty drawings - he stresses they should draw little sketches on scrap paper to play with different forms and find the best angels - and Frenchie and Soap are cringing all the more at the thought. However Price finishes his intro and ushers the artists to start their work and from there Frenchie makes eye contact with Soap and they both glare at each other. Soap clenches his jaw and brings his hand to his robe, offering Frenchie a middle finger before undoing the belt and letting it come off.

Frenchie has to stop themselves from widening their eyes cause DAMN they did not expect that thing to spring out when he got naked. Frenchie figured so much of Soap’s dick was inserted into his personality that he probably wouldn’t outwardly have much of one - but they were sorely mistaken. However being the professional they are, they just clench their teeth and start making initial sketches, shakily asking Soap to move into different positions. They’d had a grand master plan of different poses that would most embarrass Soap before they’d started and had been so eager to direct him into them, but now they were too flustered to enact them. Instead Frenchie defaulted on their love of the class to get them through the session and started making beautiful sketches with pencils and charcoal and paints and realised that actually…Soap might’ve been an absolute moron but…he was a pretty moron 😳 and as the hours ticked by and Soap watched Frenchie more and more intently he could tell that their attitude toward him was warming. It wasn’t outright hatred anymore, there was something else now, a spark of lust lingering in their focused gaze. And no matter what he thought of Frenchie he knew he was going to make a point of visiting their dorm later that night, he’d tell them he “wanted to the see the sketches” but he’d come for something else…

#(un)bearable AU #johnny soap mactavish

[jellycreamjammedart]

Hei there demons. It is I, ya boi

A while ago I considered making a trivia-like video about the assets I've made for Killer In Purple 2, and maybe show off unused content as well as asset details you probably don't see in-game. Instead I'm posting here!

Part 1: THE VERY FIRST MODEL

I was approached by the dev of Killer in Purple 2, GoldieEntertainment (GFC) after showing off some voxel art I've made in a mobile app called Fancade, and invited to join in on helping expand on Killer In Purple 2. I was like heck yeah let's get this bread!

I downloaded a mobile voxel app called Mega Voxels that actually lets users export their creations, which is exactly what I needed! All set!

My first task was making a new model for the kid NPC that was being used in the game at the time, which was made by Goldie... on Blender according to him, if I recall correctly?

(video thumbnail)

It was also the only kid model in the game at the time.

Looking at it and the rest of the game at the time, I tried to stick to the "blocky aesthetic" it had going on. I started with the head/face.

(don't mind the ads, you can't escape them nowadays.)

When I showed it to GFC he pointed out its "soulless stare" 😂😂😂 And I was not fully satisfied with the result either. So I went on from there.

I decided to retain the blockiness but also making use of more color shades in order to smooth the edges and give it more personality. After some back and forth of experimenting and tweaking, this was the final result:

The little kiddy face we've all become familiar with! If you pay attention you'll see the eyes are still pretty much a square, with a tiny bit of different color shades surrounding it to give the illusion it's rounded, plus different pupil placement to curb the "soulless stare."

The hair is basic, based off GFC's original model while also drawing slightly inspiration from the sprites of Crying Child from FNAF 4.

"But Jelly," you ask, "what about the rest of the model, like the body? That's just a head." Well, I say: DON'T LOSE YOUR HEAD! We're about to get there! (im funny i swear)

The body was surprisingly very straightforward; I tried to keep in mind where the original model was segmented and tried to stick to the same segmentation with the new body. I tried to keep the original clothing when coloring as well.

And here we have one (1) full boye, asserting his dominance!

(The solid green spots were to help GFC see where the different pieces connect, which he could easily color over once they served their purpose.)

Keep this fine young lad in mind, y'all, since he'll go on to also become the base for just about every other child character in the game. I made such choice to make things easier and faster for GFC; that way he could apply pretty much the same rigging and animations to them with minimal modifications, to save time.

Giving the characters different expressions was something that came only later once GFC figured out a way to do it, but it was something I had already been thinking about. He asked me to give the kids a small select of facial expressions; aside from the pre-existing neutral smile, I was also tasked with giving them a scared face for when they see William with the knife out or witness a kill, and a dead face for when... well, when William gives them the ultimate BONK on the head, I guess.

Scared is pretty straightforward, but what would be a dead expression? There are many ways one could go about it. So rather than making one, I made several dead faces with different designs, and left it up to GFC to pick up the "winner."

First is the default neutral smile, second is scared, and all remaining ones are different dead expressions.

I went for combinations of blank faces, empty/hollowed out eyes, tear marks matching the well-known children spirits in FNAF, as well as the cartoony X'd out eyes, which wound up being GFC's pick.

And with that we wrap up for now. These were my first steps in helping Killer In Purple 2 slowly become what it is now and my first contributions to the game (with the exception of the different expressions which we went for after a substantial amount of work.)

It all started with this little guy and his former soulless stare!

Stay tuned for whenever I decide to make new posts talking about other assets! ❤

#fnaf #fnaf fangame #killer in purple 2 #kip2 #jellycream art #jellycream speaks #voxel #voxel art #3d #3d art

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

If It Means That Much To You (Mammon x GN!Reader) Slight Angst -> Fluff

I realize now that if I had written this last night and Levi's tonight, I could have posted in the order of the brothers... but I goofed up on that... Whoops! It's slightly angsty, just the teeniest tiniest bit, but soft Mammon is so sweet. I don't write enough for him, feel kinda bad for skimping out on Mammon fics. So here's a Mammon fic!

Word Count : 1.7K Warnings : Slight angst;

The smile spread across your face as you swiped through the pictures that you had taken with your boyfriend. You both looked happy, and it wasn’t fake like those other couples that you had seen way too many times back in the human realm. This was the first time in what seemed like your entire life that you had been one hundred percent, without a doubt, happy. You had someone who loved you more than words would ever let him express, but he didn’t need words to tell you, he always showed you that he did, whether it be through the way he would hold you, or even just the way he looked at you. The way his lips would crash against yours whenever he saw you after being apart for five minutes or more. Even the way that he looked at you, you could see the emotion, so raw, you could feel it, you could almost hear it, just by looking into his eyes. His love, and his adoration for you was unmatched, other than by your own feelings towards him.

It was a perfect relationship, anyone would be able to tell just by looking at the two of you together. They would be able to see it through the multitude of pictures that you took together, pictures that he would never let you upload. Every picture was taken within the House of Lamentation, or somewhere deep in the garden behind the house, places where no one other than his brothers would ever find out that the two of you were together. It never really bothered you, not enough to bring it up to him at least. Lately though, it had been getting under your skin a little more than usual. It could have something to do with the fact that his latest modeling gig had garnered new fans for him, which should have been a good thing, but reading through their comments on his Devilgram posts had bugged you more than it should. He wasn’t the type to feed into their comments, whether they were raunchy or sweet, he would reply with a simple “Thank You” to as many as he could. You on the other hand, you weren’t allowed to comment on any of his posts, and while he hadn’t explained why that was, you just went along with it. At least you could still like them, and that was enough for you, at least up until now.

“Hey Mams, isn’t this picture cute?” You asked, idly flipping through the latest pictures you had taken together. They were taken in his bed after a long night of… fun… Both of you looked especially worn out, but the smiles on your faces were honest, sincere, and you loved waking up next to each other. His and your hair was completely messed up, and neither of you cared. It wasn’t a modeling shot, but it still looked perfect. You wanted to show him off, show the rest of the Devildom that he was yours and you were his, show them how lucky you were, and what better photo to use than one where you’ve woken up together. “I was thinking of uploading it to-”

Those words had caught his attention, drawing his eyes away from his own phone where he was scrolling through more comments and liking them, giving them the basic reply. The thought of you uploading anything like that though had made him stop, and now he was grabbing your phone from your hands and slipping it into his pocket. “Ya don’t haveta upload nothin’. I know we’re happy, so da you… nobody else needs ta know.” He smiled at you as if his words would actually make you feel better, and most of the time they did. It’s not that he was wrong, and maybe demons didn’t fully understand the concept of essentially showing the world that they were happy, that they had found love and being excited about that, but in the human realm it was a normal thing.

“Alright… I’m gonna go get myself some breakfast… you want anything?” You didn’t want to argue with him about it, you didn’t want to blow it up into something that it didn’t need to be, so changing the subject entirely was the best option. You pushed yourself up off the couch and started heading towards the door, grabbing your jacket off the edge of the bed on your way over. You turned back to face him, to see if he was going to answer your question, and he was turned completely around on the couch, pouting up at you. “You don’t have to worry, Mammon. I’m taking Beel with me.” Which was something you always did when you went to get breakfast… or really any food related item. Mammon was one who worried about your safety often, and since he didn’t like going out in public places with you, he would always tell you to have one of his brothers take you.

His pout only grew as his eyebrows lowered, crossing his arms over his chest. You weren’t really sure what he was trying to do or why he was even doing it, but you were hungry, and you really wanted to know if he wanted anything so you could get going. “Well… just remember who yer first demon was. Beel ain’t no better than me.” He huffed before turning back around and you were left in the doorway feeling nothing but confusion. You weren’t even sure what he meant by that, it made absolutely no sense to you. Obviously you thought Mammon was the better brother out of them all, you wouldn’t put up with so much of his crazy antics or try so hard to keep him out of trouble if he wasn’t your favorite. He also never had a problem with Beel taking you before, so you weren’t quite sure why it was a problem now. “Tell ya no and ya wanna go runnin’ off ta get food with Beel…”

“You know… I can still hear you.” He had whispered the last part, but his whispering sounded more like breathy screaming, especially when he was irritated by something… something that he shouldn’t even be irritated by. “I can go with Asmo or Satan… It doesn’t have to be Beel.” He groaned at the other two brother choices and now you were getting irritated. You didn’t know what he wanted, you were confused, and you were hungry, and he wasn’t explaining anything, and it was just really really annoying. “I don’t know what you want! You don’t want to be seen together, you don’t want me to leave the house by myself, and you don’t want me to leave the house with your brothers either. What do you want?”

His head whipped around so he could face you again, his eyebrows quivering slightly as he looked at you, his voice softer now. “I never said I didn’t wanna be seen with ya…” He sighed, shaking his head. “I just didn’t want anything ta happen…” You weren’t sure what he meant, or what could possibly happen if the two of you were seen together. Simple Devilgram photos couldn’t be enough to stir up problems, could they?

That’s when your brain, your already ticked off and, at this point, hangry brain started piecing together the puzzle, or at least, you thought you were piecing it together. “You mean you didn’t want your fans to get upset… If they saw a picture of you with someone they’d stop giving you likes and commenting on your posts.” His eyes narrowed as he listened to your assumption. He was shocked and even… hurt… that you’d think that that was why he didn’t want you to be seen with him. What was more upsetting was that he had apparently, at some point, given you reason to believe that he cared more about his fan base than he did about you.

He got up off the couch quickly, practically running to you and pulling you into his arms. You weren’t sure if you were just hearing things or if he was actually crying, or maybe he was coming down with a cold… but you could definitely hear him sniffling. “It ain’t about them… It’s about you…” He took a shaky breath, and that slightly verified your thoughts that he was crying, or at least on the verge of it. His hand held the back of your head, keeping your face buried in his chest so that you couldn’t see him, but you could still hear him, his voice vibrating his chest as he spoke. “I owe lotsa Grimm ta lotsa people… demons… witches… I dunno if they’d try ta snatch ya up… take ya away from me ta get their money back…” He finally took a step back, cupping your face lightly as you finally looked up at him. “I don’t want nothin’ ta happen to ya… I don’t wanna lose ya, Y/N…”

“Mammon… I-” You felt awful, terrible for even assuming that he would care more about his fans than your feelings. You had never once thought that he was doing it to look out for you, to take care of you because you meant that much to him… Because he loved you. Sometimes you fail to remember that he was greedy, and he did like to gamble, and usually that money came from other people's pockets. It was hard to remember because with you he was completely different, he never asked for your money and all of your dates were free, spent in his room or the living room or the gardens just enjoying your time together. Everything he did… he did it for you.

“It’s okay… If it means that much ta ya… Upload the pic… If it makes ya happy… I’ll even go out with ya… keep ya safe. No one messes with The Great Mammon’s human…” He smiled proudly, and you let out a small giggle as you shook your head. You didn’t want to worry him anymore than he already did about you, he didn’t need that.

“I know we’re happy… You know we’re happy… No one else needs to know… Right?” The words that he had said earlier made more sense now. You both were happy, and if anyone else knew, it could potentially ruin both of your happiness.

Things were perfect just the way they were. You had the perfect relationship, and it meant way more to you than a little picture being uploaded onto the internet.

#obey me #obey me! #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me! swd #obey me! shall we date #om! swd #om! shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me x GN!reader #obey me x mc #obey me! x reader #obey me! x gn!reader #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #obey me! Mammon #om! Mammon #obey me Mammon #obey me Mammon x reader #obey me Mammon x gn!reader #obey me Mammon x mc #mammon avatar of greed

[shorkbrian]

💖💘my heart’s dizzy and I my dose of serotonin whenever I read your prose🤟🏽😩 was wondering if you could do reader with an erratic future-vision!quirk so when they first meet yandere!Hawks they’re suddenly plagued by erotic, sensual, 365days-level of disturbing visions of them, so reader actively avoids them (it’s like those Tik Tok future-seeing videos playing to “Play Date”)

Prelude - Hawks isn’t a famous pro-hero in this, but he still has his quirk. It’s not really mentioned a bunch tho lol.  This is rlly long, but I decided not to put it into two parts because the smut is so slight lol. Hope this meets your expectations anon, thank you for reading!

Pairing -  Keigo Takami X Reader

Warnings - NSFW mentions, dubcon, noncon. No out-and-out explicit smut, just a really long story. Hawks is manipulative and gets what he wants

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/5ukAQcKEIJuzIbP55xp07x?si=iz6I-RoDSdCNYhT2Du8etg

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He was a friend of a friend, someone you had only met once or twice.

Your friend kept bringing him to hangouts, he kept showing up on her instagram feed,  getting mentioned in her twitterbio, and eventually it came out that they had started dating. It didn’t catch anyone by surprise.

What did catch you by surprise, was how infatuated with him your friend was.

“He’s just sooooo hot, isn’t he?” She squealed, shoving her phone in your face to show off a shirtless pic he had just sent her.

You nodded in agreement, quickly appraising the pic before turning your head. Yeah, her boyfriend was attractive, but you weren’t one to ruin relationships. Plus, you and Keigo had never really talked past the brief “Hey” and “Wassup?” said in greeting when introduced the first time.

“Can he come to the mall with us on Friday? I promise there will be no third wheeling.” Your friend begged, clasping her hands together. You thought about it for a second - this had been a fun shopping trip the two of you had planned a few weeks ago, meant as a girls date on a day the mall wouldn’t be crowded. But would it really hurt anything if her boyfriend came along? Probably not.

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” You shrugged, watching your friends face erupt into a wide grin. “But don’t ditch me to go makeout in a bathroom or something, got it?”

“Sir yes sir!” Your friend faux saluted, before patting you on the shoulder. “Thanks girlie!”

You jerked back, head suddenly swarming with visions, your quirk activating. Your quirk was helpful in some ways, but you mainly tried not to use it - headaches resulted, and you hated getting glimpses of the future. Sometimes they’d be good, but they were often bad - you had gotten a screenshot glimpse of your brothers death, his face marred and bleeding out onto the pavement.

It still made you sick to think about it.

Touch wasn’t something you could always avoid, but you tried, seeing as how it activated your quirk, giving you visions of your future with whomever you touched, or whoever touched you.

You saw your friends face, eyes puffy with tears, shouting something. Then another scene flashed, your friend on TV, talking to a reporter.

Thankfully, the visions ended, this episode relatively quick due to how short of a time she touched you.

“Oh shit, I forgot, I’m so sorry.” She rushed to apologize, holding her hands up and backing away from you.

“It’s-it’s fine.” You wheezed, waving your hand in the air to signal that it wasn’t a big deal. The vision just probably meant the two of you would get into a fight soon, which wasn’t uncommon.  It was fine, you were fine.

——

The mall wasn’t too crowded, which made the day pleasant. Your friend was talking to her boyfriend, hand tangled with his as the three of you walked in.

“So (Y/N), what do you think about that new Victoria’s Secret launch?” Your friend bumped you with her hip, drawing your attention as she pulled you into the conversation between her and her boyfriend.

“Oh, um… what?” To be fair, you had zoned out when the couple started being gross and mushy, which was like, the second your friend met Keigo at the door.

The blonde man laughed. “Victoria’s Secret just launched a new line of lingerie, have any thoughts about it?”

Turning red, you smiled sheepishly. “Ah, well…. From what I’ve seen of their stuff it’s… nice? So I’m sure it’s good.”

Your friend mock-gasped, almost slapping you on the arm before quickly remembering your quirk, drawing her hand back. You gave a quick nod of thanks.

“(Y/N)! Don’t tell me you didn’t even know about it?! I practically live, eat, and sleep Victoria’s Secret, it’s impossible to miss their product drops when you’re one of my friends.”

Unsure how to respond, you floundered, opening and closing your mouth like a lost fish.

“Babe, leave her be, she’s probably just shy.” Keigo stepped in, giving his girlfriend a chuckle as he steered you both towards a shop.

“Fineeee.” Your friend whined, turning to focus on the task ahead. “They have a VS shop here though, you’re not getting out of here without going in with me!”

----

The VS store was huge, smelling sweetly of flowers, bright colors assaulting your vision, soft pop music filling your ears.

It was hard not to cringe at all the fancy lingerie, you were honestly a bit embarrassed to be strolling through the store with your friend, let alone her boyfriend by her side.

“Does-does Keigo mind?” You quietly asked your friend, out of earshot of her boyfriend, who was looking at perfumes, last time you checked.

“Not at all birdie, I’m used to clothes, any form, any shape.”

You whirled around, squeaking in surprise at Keigo, who had apparently finished with browsing the perfume. He was flashing you a 1000 watt grin, continuing with what he was saying. “I’m a model, practically every girl I’ve ever met I’ve seen in less than full underwear, it’s no big deal.”

“Oh…. Cool.” You offered, cheeks turning red again. You felt like such a blushing schoolgirl, turning red when faced with looking at bras and panties, flushing when a man got too close.

It was the nature of the store, you told yourself, that was making you so embarrassed.

“Oo! What do you think of this one?” Your friend was holding up a babydoll, pink, with light fabric and zero coverage.

Keigo wolf whistled. “Man, that’d be a good look for you. Lets buy it.” The couple moved on, pointing at different clothes, your friend occasionally picking one from the rack to hold up against her body, looking for Keigo’s opinion.

They were cute together, laughing over the cheesy names on the tags of the lingerie, holding hands as the browsed, your friend occasionally stopping to plant a kiss on her boyfriend’s cheek.

“I think that’s everything that I like…. (Y/N), your turn!” Pulled out of your casual observance, you back pedaled. “Me? No, I’m not really the type to wear this kind of stuff - I don’t even think most of it would fit, I have weird proportions.“

“Nonsense!” Keigo looked around for a moment, going to the nearest rack to quickly sift through bras, before pulling one out. “This one would make all the boys drool over you honey.”

He held it out towards you, shaking it slightly when you hesitated to take it. Was your friend okay with him talking to you like that, pushing underwear at you to buy? A quick glance sideways showed she was more than okay with it, clasping her hands excitedly as she watched you.

The bra was sheer, soft lavender fabric forming the cups, an intricate embroidered detail of flowers dotted haphazardly over the bra. It was pretty, but you weren’t exactly partial to it. When would you wear it? Who would you wear it for? You weren’t sure it was your style. Plus, it probably wasn’t even your size.

“My arm’s gettin’ real tired.” Keigo joked, before you finally took the garment from him. Checking the size, you paused for a second, blinking towards the man.

“How did you-?”

“You spend enough time in the fashion industry, you learn to tell a girl’s size just by looking at her.”  He seemed to puff up, as if he was proud of his bra-sizing skills.

“Let me help her pick out some things too!” Your friend cried, rushing past you to head over to the next rack, ushering you to follow with a wave of her hand.

You ended up with an armful of lingerie - bras, panties,  an odd bustier or two, and some other flowy items, like a sheer robe and a lacy chemise. The choices weren’t exactly made by you, more so made by a combination of your friend and Keigo together. They had alternated holding up items towards your body, comparing color and garment cuts, lost in their own mushy-gushy world, and it was almost like you didn’t exist for a few moments, nothing more than a barbie doll to dress up.

But now the three of you stood in line to checkout, and you felt included again, your friend cracking jokes that were making you snort, Keigo watching the two of you interact.

Until your friend accidentally brushed against your arm as she shifted forward in line.

Again, you saw her tearful face, heard her sobbing, before the other scene flashed, of her on TV, talking to the reporter. She still looked upset, eyes rimmed red, nose running, hair a mess.

With a gasp, your vision returned to the present, and you were wobbling on your feet, almost falling.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry (Y/N), I’m so so sorry. Here, let me take that, go sit down by the entrance.” She fussed over you, face concerned as she carefully took the stack of clothes from your arms, making sure to not make contact.

“Oh fuck, is she alright?” You heard Keigo ask, your friend stepping in front of you as he moved forward to check on you.

“Yeah, she’s just feeling a little dizzy. Can you make sure she doesn’t fall and crack her head open? Just wait by the entrance please.”

“Okay. Oh, here-“ You were a bit dazed, but you saw Keigo fish his wallet out of his pocket, thrusting the entire thing into his girlfriends hands before patting her on the shoulder “Whichever card is fine.”

And then you were stumbling towards the entrance, towards the bench right outside.

You hated seeing the future. Why was your friend crying? What had happened to elicit such a reaction? The unknowns killed you, kept you up at night as you tried to puzzle out the events that could lead up to the scenes from your visions.

Not looking where you were going, you tripped on air, unable to catch yourself as you plummeted towards the ground.

But then you were seeing Keigo.

He was above you, face flushed and sweaty, hair tousled, his chest bare. The room was dark, barely lit, and he was so close. The man leaned down to kiss you, then the scene changed.

You were bent over a table, only able to see the solid wood your face was smushed against. There was a heat in your belly, a tingling between your thighs, and pressure. Someone was talking - Keigo, muttering behind you angrily. You head was pulled up, a hand fisted in your hair, and then one of your knees was pushed up onto the table, and the pressure inside exploded into pure pleasure.

You felt yourself screaming, bucking your hips as you suffered through whatever the feeling was.

The scene changed again.

Hands tied above your head, you were pressed against a wall, sitting on some kind of…. Saddle? Your legs couldn’t touch the ground, and you squirmed, before gasping loudly.

There was a nub in the seat, ribbed and textured, slick with some kind of liquid… From you? Then you saw Keigo, standing in front of you, smirking at you with hardened eyes.

He had something in his hand, arms crossed over his chest while he fiddled with the object, muscles flexing. He was shirtless again, and-and his cock was hanging out of his sweatpants, pressed against his belly, smearing precum over his skin.

You tried to say something, anything - the visions never lasted this long, it was too intense, there was so much sensation. But your mouth wouldn’t move, choked up.

Keigo’s hand was on his length, rubbing slowly, saying something that didn’t reach your ears.

The scene changed.

Something was shoved down your throat, warm and twitching. You were sobbing, choking, clawing at whatever was in front of you. A dark laugh filled your ears, and you opened your eyes, met with the clenching abs of a strong stomach.

Keigo was brushing your tears, no, smudging them over your face. Were you wearing makeup? His cock was sitting in your throat, his hips moving in tiny jerks, stabbing your esophagus, making you gag.

Then you were back in the present.

A hand was holding your arm, keeping you from falling and making contact with the hard floor.

“-N)? (Y/N)? Are you okay? Talk to me birdie”

You made a panicked noise, pulling yourself out of Keigo’s grip so fast that you fell flat on the floor, scrambling backwards away from the man.

He almost looked scared, confused as he followed after you, holding out his hands. “(Y/N), you gotta calm down, you’re gonna make yourself sick.”

The man reached for your arm again and you pressed yourself against the floor, screeching out a loud “No!!” before he could touch you. Keigo paused, looking at his hand, then at you. “Hey, hey, I’m not gonna touch you. It’s okay little birdie, you’re alright.” He cooed, sinking to his knees in front of you.

You were hyperventilating, wide eyes trained on Keigo. Your thoughts were swirling in your head, you couldn’t focus, the sensations of the future still echoing through your body.

Keigo crouched there while you steadied your breathing, talking to you the entire time, trying to help you relax and calm down. You weren’t sure what he was saying, something about the weather? Or a dog? But you could feel your breathing evening out, head clearing.

“Hey, she fall?” You friend was carrying two bags, crouching down beside Keigo, cocking her head at you.

Her boyfriend nodded, turning to her and taking one of the bags. “I caught her, but then she freaked out and fell for real.”

Your friend nodded. “I should’ve told you earlier, she has a touch-based quirk. Every time someone touches her, she sees snippets of her future with that person.”

Keigo cocked his own head, gazing at you curiously. “I guess her future with me isn’t too positive then?”

Your friend shrugged. “Eh, she just hates seeing parts of the future. She doesn’t want to know what’s going to happen, makes her worry or something like that. Don’t take it too personally, she’s like that with everyone.”

“It-it-“ you rasped out, causing both sets of eyes to swivel towards you. “-I hate it... because-‘cause I can’t ever cha-change it.” You shivered.

Keigo nodded in understanding, before rising to his feet. “Think you can walk to my car? I’ll drive you two home, I think you’d benefit from some rest.”

He dropped you off at your apartment, and you wearily waved at the couple as they drove off, before heading inside.

----

A week passed, then two.

The visions you had concerning Keigo were plaguing your mind, filling your body with anxiety. There had been a distinctive feel of fear during each one, and despite all the other various sensations felt, the most overwhelming had been distress.

Whatever was going to happen, you weren’t going to like it.

You were holing up in your apartment, ignoring your roommates when they knocked on your door, only leaving your room to eat or grab water. You couldn’t sleep, too scared you’d have dreams, or more accurately, nightmares of what you had seen.

Curse your quirk.

Trying to pass time, desperate to keep your mind off of the future, you threw yourself into any activity you could find.

First you tried coloring - it was supposed to be relaxing, but it gave you too much time to think.

Then you tried gaming, spending hours in front of your computer mashing the keys. That worked for a bit, but your eyes and head soon protested.

You listened to music at full volume, tried several workout videos, even resorted to cleaning your space with fervent energy.

None of it took your mind off the inevitable.

“(Y/N), someone’s at the door asking for you.” You jerked awake, slumped over uncomfortably on the floor, the half finished card tower in front of you promptly knocked over at your erratic movements.

“(Y/N)?” Your roommate called again.

“Yeah! Coming, sorry.” You mumbled, scrubbing sleep from your eyes. You guess your body would give out sometime and force you to fall asleep, but as you moved to stand, you sorely wished your body had chosen a more comfortable place to pass out.

Opening the front door, you immediately took a cautious step back, sleepy demeanor vanishing.

Keigo smiled at you, one hand in the pocket of his jeans, the other holding a bouquet of flowers.

Flowers?

“Hey birdie, mind if I come in?”

You stared at him for a second, immediately on guard. Why did he have flowers? Why did he want to come in? Wasn’t he dating your friend? She didn’t live here, what was he doing here?

The man cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow at you. You moved to the side, holding open the door for Keigo to come inside.

Your roommates were home. If anything happened, they would be within earshot.

Keigo shot you a smile and a thanks, before immediately moving into the small living room, taking a seat on the couch. When he saw you still hovering by the open door, he patted the cushion beside him.

“Come sit, I promise I don’t bite.” He thought for a moment, before grinning. “Well, not unless you want me to.”

Hesitantly, you shut the front door, going to sit in a ratty armchair further away from the winged man. If this bothered him, the man didn’t let it show other than a short pause before he spoke.

“So, I know it probably seems like, super weird for me to show up at your apartment, but hear me out.”

Flowers were shoved in your lap, Keigo taking great care to avoid touching you.  “I felt bad about the other day, and my girl and I decided that we should get you some flowers. She picked ‘em out, it even says so on the note.”  The man laughed, running a hand through his hair.

“She’s so uptight about this kinda stuff. Anyways, just wanted to say that I’m sorry for grabbing you like that. If I had known, I would’ve let you fall flat on your ass. But I know now, so I’ll be better, cool with you?”

Finishing his little speech, Keigo held out his hands, wings stretching behind him to mimic the gesture.

Looking at the flowers in your lap, you felt your hands shaking. Picking up the little note attached to the bouquet, you found that your friend had indeed picked out the flowers, which made sense. They were your favorites, and in a nice color too.  Keigo had left a messy, scrawled “Sorry!” in one corner, before signing by his girlfriends name.

“Um, thank you Keigo, you didn’t have to apologize.” You murmured, rubbing one of the flower petals between your fingers. You were so glad your quirk extended solely to humans - if you were shown glimpses of the future of everything you touched, you would most likely go mad.

“Nah, I wanted to. Also wanted to swing by, check how you’re doing. You been taking care of yourself?” He relaxed on the couch, legs spread, arms resting behind his head. This wasn’t his home, yet you totally could believe that it was by the ease with which he owned the space with his presence.

“Oh, well… I’m still here, so…” You shrugged.

Keigo frowned. “That’s not a fun answer. How much sleep you been gettin’ each night? Eight hours?”

You shook your head, huffing out a breath in place of a laugh.

Keigo clicked his tongue. “No sleep? That’s bad for you y’know. Have you at least been drinking water? Eatin’?”

You nodded quickly, looking up to meet the man’s gaze. “I’m not a kid. I appreciate your concern, but it’s not necessary.”

At this point, you think the best thing for your health would be for the man to leave.

The blonde man stared at you for a moment, before sighing. “Alright, I get it. But I don’t want to hear that you’ve passed out or something, got it? Your friend would kill me.”

He rose to his feet, and so did you, walking him to the door. “Thanks Keigo, and thank you again for the flowers. That was very sweet of you both.”

Keigo beamed, giving a two fingered salute. “You deserve it birdie. Well, have a good rest of your day, yeah? Eat something.”

You smiled, at Keigo as he turned away, beginning to whistle as he strolled down the hall.

Once the door was shut, you found a vase for the flowers, filling it with water and setting it on the table. Your roommates would think it was pretty, and it was, a nice little centerpiece.

That really was nice of your friend and Keigo to offer you flowers.

——

“Welcome to Gold Nile Jewelers, how can I-“ You blinked at the man entering the shop. “-Keigo.”

“Birdie? You work here?” He looked just as confused as you felt, cocking his head to the side as he approached the counter.

You looked around the small display room, nodding your head. “Yep… You looking for anything specific today?”

“Ah, right!” He clasped his hands together, bending over to lean on the display counter as he looked up at you. “So professional (Y/N), it’s just me.” The man chuckled.

“Actually, I thought I’d get my girl a cute little bracelet or something like that, you think she’d like that?”

Knowing your friend, she’d be ecstactic. “Oh, absolutely. Any particular occasion, or just an “I love you gift”?” You asked, already running through the list of bracelets in stock.

“It’s our two month anniversary in another week, thought I’d get her a little sumn’ sumn’, y’know?”

Gold Nile Jewelers was an expensive store. You patted yourself on the back for not dropping your jaw when he said “two month anniversary”. People came here for wedding rings and special occasion jewelry, not monthly anniversaries like some high schoolers.

Well, unless they were rich.

You showed Keigo the selection of bracelets currently available, the man listening quietly to your product descriptions and recommendations, asking questions about the fit and feel, and if you think your friend would like a particular one.

“Honestly Keigo, I could choose one I think she’d like, but it’d be more special if you chose for her.” You finally told him.  He wasn’t annoying you, but you felt frustrated with his apparent lack of knowledge about his girlfriend. How did he not know what her favorite color was? “I’d suggest coming back in a few days. Go home, see what kind of jewelry she wears, pay attention to the colors she gravitates towards, if she’s allergic to any metals.”

Keigo tapped his chin. “Hmm, you have a good point. I guess I should pay more attention to those kinds of things.”

You nodded as you began to pack the expensive bracelets back into their display cases. “Gifts for a significant other can be hard. Honestly, it means a lot if they pick it out themselves and surprise you with it. Makes it special.”

“Oh, you have a partner?” Keigo asked, bright eyes watching your hands work.

A frown almost crossed your features, but you stopped it before it could show. “Ah, sorry, that’s not really a work-appropriate question.”

“Awh, c’mon! It’s just me, we’re friends, can’t you tell me?” Keigo pouted, batting his eyelashes at you in an exaggerated, dramatic fashion. The display made you laugh, so you indulged him. After all, he was a friend. No harm in telling him something he was bond to know sooner or later.

“I’m actually single right now. But as a jeweler sale associate, I know how much it means to a person when their partner picks out a gift for them, especially if it’s a surprise.”

Keigo nodded his head solemnly.  “That makes sense. I better follow your advice then eh? Find out what she likes-“ he mused “-I can do that.”

“Good luck Keigo!” You called after him as he strolled through the door, waving when he smiled at you, giving that same, goofy two fingered salute that he always did when saying goodbye.

The man unnerved you, the visions you had experienced concerning him making you worry. But as long as he was dating your friend, you felt that you’d be fine.

-----

Keigo showed up again two days later.

“Back so soon?”

“You know me-“ He shook out his umbrella, placing it in the drip-bin by the door, wiping his shoes on the mat. “I always try to be speedy with my work.”

It was grey outside, drizzling slightly. You loved these kinds of days, where you could sit near a window and watch it rain while sipping tea. It was so peaceful and calm, and always soothed your stress.

“Find out anything useful?” Whatever he could tell you would make it easier to refine the jewelry selection for his particular needs.

“So, she doesn’t have any bracelets, and I asked her about why and she said they annoy her. She likes necklaces.” He clarified,. You could tell by the way he puffed up that he felt proud of his detective skills. “I even made a note of the lengths - she likes ones that dip low, which-“ He wolf whistled, and your stomach turned. But it was fine, just awkward.

“Alright, I think we have quite a few like that. Let me collect them for you and lay them out.”

Keigo strolled around the display room while you bustled about, looking in each case at the shiny metals and stones  

You laid out the necklaces, calling Keigo over. The man smiled brightly at you as you showed him the selection, noticing he was gravitating towards the more simply, elegant choices.

“I’m sure she would be thrilled with any of these.” You offered, Keigo silent as he tried to decide between two necklaces.

Still, the man shook his head, quirking his lips. “I just…. I need to see them on, y’know?” Then he brightened, as if he had just thought of something. “Hey, can you try them on? Model one for me? Just to see what it’d look like.”

You laughed nervously. “Sorry Keigo, but I’m not allowed to do that, it’s against company policy. Only customers get to try on the jewelry, and that’s if they’re supervised.”

“Awh, c’mon! No one else is here, and I won’t tell.” The man leaned forward, shooting you a quick wink before he snatched up one of the necklaces, holding it out towards you. “Please? I just need to see it. I promise I’ll buy it.”

He was so insistent, and no matter how loud the alarm bells were wringing in your head, you felt cowed by his confidence.

“Um, still… I don’t think it’s allowed-“

“Fuck what’s allowed-“ He cut you off, snorting. “-I want to see what it looks like. It’s just me (Y/N), I’m not gonna snitch.”

A heavy sigh, and you finally agreed, taking the necklace from his nimble fingers.  You slung it around your neck, not fastening the back as you held it in place. Hopefully that would be enough to sate Keigo’s curiosity.

His eyes immediately followed the curve of the necklace, how it dipped low towards your cleavage (curse you for wearing a lower-cut shirt today). You tried to ignore the leering.

“Here, let me help you fasten it, doesn’t look right otherwise.”

Before you could protest, he was sliding behind you, deft hands reaching for the necklace your had in your grasp.

“Keigo no-!”

But it was too late.

You were pressed up against a wall, face-first, your hands gathered into the small of your back and held there with a vice-like grip. There was pressure between your legs, something hammering into you, in and out, in and out, in and out.

Keigo was talking to you, you could tell it was the man by his voice. What was he saying? You were too overwhelmed with the sensation between your legs to focus on the words falling from his lips.

Sweat dripped from your temples, Keigo’s chest pressed up against your back was slick with perspiration, his nipples hard and pressing into your skin. It was an uncomfortable situation-

And then it changed.

You were tied up now, tight enough that you couldn’t move no matter how you thrashed. Knees bound in such a way so your ass was up in the air, arms stretched out in front of you, anchored to the headboard of the bed.

Keigo was behind you again - nothing to indicate that the tongue running through your core was his, but somehow, you knew.

You were begging and pleading, withing in your restraints against his tongue, but he wouldn’t let up, he wouldn’t let you crest the mountain that had built up inside. He kept chuckling, the vibrations running through you and making you buck your hips. You felt disgusting.

Then the bed was gone, and Keigo was in front of you. He was sitting in an office chair, your legs straddling his lap. Hands on your hips were dragging you back and forth, grinding you on the hard member protruding from Keigo’s lap. He was flushed, letting out little moans as he kept eye contact with you, smiling and praising you.

Then you were back.

Gasping, you shot away from Keigo, the expensive necklace clattering to the ground as it fell from your hands.

The man froze, confusion etched across his features as he watched you bend over, trying to catch your breath, to calm down, to ignore the lingering sensations from the futuristic visions.

“(Y/N)…”

“I think-I think you should leave.” You heaved, tears building. That had been awful, everything had felt good but you hadn’t. You felt uncomfortable and disrespected and stupid. That couldn’t be your future with Keigo, you wouldn’t be able to handle that. He was your friend’s boyfriend, for goodness sake!

Keigo opened his mouth to say something, but you snapped at him “Leave.”, making the man click his jaw shut.

He walked out the door, shooting you concerned glances the entire way.

You felt better as soon as he was gone, the door clicking shut after him. Thankfully, you were the only employee out front at the moment, and no other customers were present, so no one but you and Keigo had experienced your outburst.

Bending down to pick up the necklace, you inspected it carefully, horrified that you had dropped such an expensive item. It was alright though, so you brought it back to the others, shakily beginning to gather them up to put away.

You didn’t want to see Keigo again.

——-

“I just don’t understand!”

Your friend sobbed, surrounded by tissues on your bed, eyes red and blotchy.  You wished you could rub her back, our give her a hug, but you knew what would happen. So you stayed on the floor, passing up tissues and offering wordless sympathy.

“Why would he break up with me? Why?”

You shrugged, looking for words. “I don’t know… I’m sorry that this happened, but if he can’t see how awesome you are, then he’s an idiot.”

She sniffed, blowing her nose. You could tell she wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t say anything further, instead choosing to wipe her eyes.

She had called an hour or so ago, tearful, asking if she could come over. Refused to tell you what was wrong, but the second you let her in, she had burst into tears, explaining everything.

Keigo had broken up with her via text, that asshole.

“I just…. I thought we were good. Did I do something wrong? I just don’t get it.”

“Neither do I. You said he just texted you out of the blue?”

She nodded her head, going to blow her nose again. “We were supposed to go out for dinner tomorrow, it’s our two month anniversary.”

You cringed. Did your encounter with Keigo in the jewelry store have something to do with this? Had you driven your friend’s boyfriend away? Had you weirded him out? Oh god, what if this was all your fault?

Your friend broke down into a sob again, slumping onto your bed. You passed her another tissue. “It’ll be okay. I think he’s a stupid fucker that just wanted to play with your heart.  He isn’t worth shit. You deserve so much better than him.”

She nodded, blotchy eyes seeking out your own. In the back of your mind, you cringed, seeing the exact same scene from your vision. Well, at least the two of you hadn’t gotten in a fight.

——-

A few weeks later, Keigo was at your door.

“You need to leave. Now.”

“Aw, c’mon (Y/N), at least hear me out?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Maybe he had a dumb explanation for why he had dumped your friend. You were wary of him accidentally touching you again though. “Fine, but make it quick.”

“No promises.” He grinned, breezing past you and into your apartment. He beelined for the chair you had sat in last time he was here, leaving you to take a seat on the couch.

“Alright-“ He settled in, fixing you with a gleeful eye. “How do you feel about your quirk?”

Caught off guard, you blinked. Wasn’t he going to explain why he had broken your friend’s heart? “Um, what?”

“Your quirk, y’know, the one that makes you see the future?” He leaned forward, rubbing his hands together with a smile. He seemed far too pleased, and it made you nervous.

“I hate it. If I could get rid of it, I would.” You stated, ready to move onto a different topic. But just as you were about to ask him about your friend, he rose to his feet, fishing in his pockets.

He drew out a bracelet, black and red, thin. “Well then, lookie what I have.” The man walked over, sitting down quickly on the couch next to you, causing you to immediately scoot to the end. You didn’t want him touching you.

“Oh, sorry.” He apologized upon noticing your unease. Instead of scooting closer, he simply tossed the bracelet onto your lap, leaning back as he watched you look at it curiously. “Put it on, see how it fits.”

“I don’t need jewelry Keigo, and I think we should be spending our time discussing why you bro-“

“Just put it on (Y/N), please? I promise you won’t regret it.”

Huffing, you did as he asked, clasping the bracelet around your wrist. It fit snug, almost too tight, but it hugged your wrist comfortingly. It was pretty, but you didn’t see what this had to do with your quirk, or with your friend, or anything that held any relevancy.

Bracelet now on, you fixed Keigo with a blank stare. “Happy?”

“I don’t know.” Keigo grinned. “Are you?” And then he was hugging you, arms wrapped around your shoulders, face buried in your neck.

You shrieked, already panicking as you tried to ready yourself for the onslaught of  visions that accompanied physical touch.

They never came.

Choking back a surprised gasp, you drew back from his hug to find Keigo’s eyes, the man smiling down at you as he watched your reaction.

“Kei-Keigo…” You stuttered, shocked, surprised, euphoric, confused - so many emotions, all at once. You couldn’t even think to brush off the hands still around your shoulders, thumbs brushing at the tops of your exposed collarbones by the neck of your shirt.

You weren’t able to think rationally, couldn’t focus on anything but the awe you felt at being touched without being slammed with visions of the future.

You forgot about the terrifying visions you had gotten when Keigo touched you.

You forgot about how he had hurt your friend, broke her heart with no explanation.

You forgot about his hands refusing to leave your body.

“Keigo, this is…. Amazing” You breathed, wide eyes snapping up, catching his smiling face, eyes crinkly and twinkly.

“I had my team modify some quirk-cancelling cuffs! You seemed so upset whenever someone touched you, I couldn’t leave you with such a burden.”

Nodding, you returned your gaze to the bracelet, turning your wrist this way and that to look at the bracelet from different angles.

“I mean, I know how much I like being touched, and touching. I think I’d totally die if I couldn’t.” Keigo chuckled, but you weren’t listening.

The rest of his time sitting next to you on the couch was spent explaining the colors he had spent so long picking (“They’re my personal favorite, aren’t they nice?”) and why he had decided on a bracelet (“It could’ve been a necklace, but I think it looks better in it’s original cuff design, looks cooler that way.”).

By the time he had to leave, you were completely sidetracked, so distracted with your shiny new jewelry that you didn’t even remember to ask what his deal was with being a jerk to your friend, his now ex-girlfriend.

-----

“-and then he gave me the bracelet. I wasn’t thinking much after that, I just… I can hug you, isn’t that incredible?”

You gave your friend another squeeze, feeling a smile dance across your face. But then you sobered, pulling back from her with your hands on her shoulders, quickly becoming serious.

“But he’s really starting to kind of weird me out. Why won’t he explain why he broke up with you? He’s being a little bitch. I tried asking him a couple times, but he kept cutting me off, and I feel like the bracelet was a distraction to stop me from busting his chops about his behavior towards you.”

Your friend looked sad for a second, before shrugging. “I dunno, he just said things weren’t working out, and that while he liked me, he’s not ready for a relationship right now ‘cause of where he’s at in his life.”

“Psh-“ You scoffed, going in for another comforting squeeze for your friend. “-that’s code for “I’m a fuckboy and want to sleep around”.”

“I know….. But it still hurts.” You friend sighed, wrapping her arms around your neck. “But at least he gave you that quirk thing. I’ve never seen you so happy.”

“I just wish he was a mildly decent person.” You grumbled, detaching from the hug to sit back, glaring at the ceiling. “He gives me the fucking creeps.”

“How so?” You friend locked her head to the side, throwing her arm over the back of the couch. You had called her over the second Keigo had left, finally gathering your wits about you.

“I dunno…” You shrugged, not quite ready to tell her about the disturbing visions containing him. Did that have something to do with their breakup? Was it your fault? What was going to happen with Keigo? It honestly scared you, the residual feelings and sensations you could remember from the visions.

Your friend nodded understandingly. “Some people just give off those vibes. Well, at least we don’t ever have to see him again. Good riddance I say.”

You agreed.

——-

Knocking on the door, you shuffled your feet as you took in the house.

It was one of those rich places - nice neighborhood, fancy street filled with lavish houses, expensive cars. You felt slightly out of place, shifting from foot to foot in your clearance-rack clothes.

The door swung open, revealing a sleepy Keigo, shirtless, clad in nothing but sweatpants.

“Oh, um-“ You quickly turned, averting your eyes, trying to give the man privacy in case he hadn’t realized he was shirtless. It looked like he had just woken up from a nap, eyes blinking owlishly, hair mussed.

“Hey (Y/N), come on in.”

Still keeping your eyes turned away, you stepped inside the opulent house, trying not to gape too much at the decor inside. You didn’t want to look like a complete peasant in front of Keigo, but he’d already been to your house, so you could imagine that he knew of your poor-ness.

“Something wrong? You can look at me y’know, I’m not gonna turn you to stone or something.” Keigo joked, voice entirely too close for comfort.

Head whipping around, you found that he was too close, practically almost touching you as he stood beside you, head cocked as he watched you.

“No… nothings wrong, you’re just…” You gestured to his torso, and Keigo looked down in confusion, before looking back at you, a grin on his face.

“Ah, just woke up.” He shrugged, before reaching out to touch your arm. “Bracelet still keeping that quirk at bay?”

You nodding, following the blonde as he turned and walked further into his house, towards the kitchen.

“Glad to hear! I just wanted to look at it a bit, make sure nothing’s worn or torn, y’know? Hate for you to have to deal with the no-touching thing again.” He said over his shoulder, gesturing for you to sit down at the island, on one of the barstools.

You did so, watching the man open his fridge, take out a carton of milk, uncap it. “Is it too tight?”

“Nope.”

He drank right out of the bottle, and you watched some dribble out of the corner of his mouth, down his chin. The man finished gulping down the milk, taking the bottle away from his lips to swipe at the white trail of liquid rolling down his chin.

Eyes dark, he made contact with your own eyes as he cleaned his chin with a finger, stuffing it in his mouth to suck it clean.

That was gross.

The next second, he was back to normal, cheerfully putting the milk back into the fridge. “Good, good. Now, mind if I take a look at it? You should keep it on though.”

You nodded, and Keigo straightened, walking around the island to sit next to you, shuffling his stool closer.

He grabbed your wrist, laying it out on the island, before beginning to poke at the bracelet, running his fingers over it, fiddling with it, squeezing the tendons in your hand, smoothing his hand up your arm.

It felt a bit intrusive.

“So the visions are all blocked?”

“Yep.”

“And you can touch and be touched?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s your appetite? Sometimes complete quirk suppression can make you lose your appetite.”

“It’s been normal, I guess I’m a little hungrier than normal, but I’ve been getting out more too, not as afraid of crowds.”

“Nice! And how about your libido?”

You spluttered, choking on your own spit, snatching your hand away from Keigo’s wandering touches.

“Excuse me? That’s a bit personal, thanks.”

Keigo shrugged, bright eyes hooded and lazy. “It’s just a question.”

“Are you done making sure it’s all good? No broken parts?” You changed the subject, narrowing your eyes. You can’t believe your friend had ever dated him, that you had ever thought he was anything but a playboy.

You wouldn’t even be here, in his house, but he had come into the jewelers a while back (both you and your friend had blocked his number), spouting something about your bracelet needing constant checks and maintenance in order to keep suppressing your quirk. (“Wouldn’t want it to stop working, right? Just stop by sometimes, here’s my address.”).

So here you were.

Keigo leaned back a little, raising an eyebrow at your irritated tone of voice. “Woah there, don’t get snippy. I’m doing you a favor, right? I’m not trying to hurt you or something.”

Technically, you guess he was right. But he had played your friend, had fucked with her feelings. He was a fuckboy, liked messing with each and every girl he could find, and you didn’t care to be one of them.

“And I appreciate that Keigo. But I like to keep my private life private.”

Keigo was silent, simply holding out a hand for you to place your arm in, so he could fiddle more with the bracelet.

Several moments of awkward silence passed before he spoke again. “You’re being awfully ungrateful. It makes me think you don’t even want this little gift. If I were you, I’d be doing everything I could to show the person kind enough to do such a thing for me how thankful I was.”

Lost for words, you stared at the man. Was he expecting some sort of award? Some sort of prize? It’s not like you had anything to give him.

“I don’t have anything to give you in thanks. Just my words, which I’ve said plenty of. I didn’t ask you to make this for me.” You pointed out.

“Sure, but you use it, don’t you? You wouldn’t like it if I took it away, right? Think about how miserable your life was before I gave you this.”

Your life had been miserable. Afraid to go out in crowds, afraid to leave the house, Nervous about grocery shopping, about paying and having the cashier touch your hand as they handed over the change.

Scared of public transportation, of coffeeshops and bookstores, of public parks, even your own home. What if one of your roommates forgot and touched you? Or accidentally bumped into you?

Plus, you could hug now, and shake hands, and slap your friends back when she told a horrible joke, or tap her when you wanted her attention.

You didn’t want to go back to before. “I’m sorry Keigo… I really do think it’s lovely, and I can never thank you enough for doing this for me.”

Keigo let go of your arm, and it swung back to your side. You could feel the man looking at you.

“You know what would let me know that you mean it?”

God, it better not be something sexual.

“You could buy me coffee. Or maybe a cookie from that bakery on 1st Avenue, you know the one? With the little bunny pastries?”

That surprised you.

“You go there? That’s my favorite place.” You mused, looking at Keigo in surprise. He didn’t seem the kind of guy who’d like a place like that. But appearances could be deceiving.

“Of course! I really like their stuff.”

“Alright,” You conceded, rising to your feet. “I’ll get you some stuff from there. Want it today?”

Keigo rose to his feet as well, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “Yeah! Let me get dressed real quick, and then I’ll go with you. Don’t go anywhere birdie.” He shot you a wink, before sauntering past you, out of the kitchen.  You raised a brow, surprised. He meant to go with you?

“Make yourself at home while you wait, don’t be afraid to kick up your feet!”  

——-

The bakery smelled as lovely as usual.

A warm atmosphere, good food, friendly employees. It was your favorite place for a reason.

“Alright, what do you want?” You asked Keigo, the two of you staring up at the menu.

“Hmm, I don’t know. What are you going to get?”

“Probably a muffin, those are my favorite.”

“What!?! That’s my favorite too! How crazy.” Keigo smiled at you, dimples showing. You got the feeling that he was brown-nosing you, but you kept the thought to yourself, striding up to the counter to order.

Muffins purchased, you approached Keigo, who was lounging by one of the display cases, admiring the delicate, mouthwatering masterpieces held within.

“All good to go?” His smile was so charming, so friendly, you almost caught yourself wanting to see it more. Huffing in irritation at yourself, you pushed past him, shoving the bag with his muffin into his chest.

“Here’s your stuff. I’m going home now, see you around.”

“Wait!” Keigo turned, jogging a little to catch up as you exited the bakery. “We gotta eat these before they get cold - hey, birdie, are you listening to me?“

You weren’t, stoically keeping your head turned forward, walking with determination. There was only so much of Keigo that you could tolerate, and you had reached your limit. He was starting to really annoy you, didn’t he get that you wanted to go home? You’ll just eat your muffin on the subway, it’s not that hard.

“(Y/N)-“ His sudden growl was punctuated by an arm on your shoulder, spinning you around and pulling you towards the man.

“Hey-!” The sudden collision of your face with his chest knocked your breath away, almost causing you to drop your own muffin in the process.

When you managed to gather yourself, you shot a glare up at Keigo’s face, only to find the blonde smirking down at you, a fierce glint in his eyes.

“I expect you to listen when I’m talking, got it? I don’t like being ignored.”

That’s evident.

You tried to back away, but he still had a hand on your shoulder, squeezing you tight to him. “Keigo! Let me go, you stupid idiot-“

“Stop it, I’m not doing anything to you, ya big baby.” He cooed down at you, before taking his hand away, letting you stumble backwards.

He was just messing with you, teasing you. It was obvious, yet still you allowed him to be around you.

“Alright, I’m sorry, I know all the touching’s gotta be new still. Wanna go eat these in the park? I’ll buy you some ice cream if you want.”

“I don’t want ice cream, I want to go home.”

Keigo frowned, walking after you when you turned on your heel, heading for the subway. “Why do you dislike me so much? I’ve done so much to help you, and yet you spit in my face. Your parents ever teach you how to be grateful? Or even respectful?”

You gasped at his accusation, stopping in your tracks to whirl around, only to find the man far closer than what you had expected. Still, you tried to hide your surprise at his proximity, jabbing a finger in his direction.

“You are a playboy, you broke my friend’s heart, and you want to sleep with every single person you come across just to mess with their feelings. I don’t want to be around you. I won’t get dragged into that.”

The man watched you, face solemn and contemplative. “Is that really how you see me?”

“Why would I say any of that unless it was true?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking up and around, as if gathering his bearings, before back down at you.

“Have you ever considered that I’m the one getting my heart broken?”

“Yeah right-“ You scoffed, only for Keigo to cut you off.

“People want to sleep with me because they think it’ll get them something that they want. Fifteen second fame, a piece in a tabloid about my “new lover”…. Think it’ll help them further their career, or that I’ll give them money. I can’t find anyone real.

“And my friend wasn’t real enough for you?” You spat, not believing him for a second.

“Nope.  You think she liked me for who I am?”

“Uh, yeah? She gushed to me all the damn time about how good you were, how she felt about you. That girl held nothing but love and affection for you.”

The man snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, sure, love for my wallet.”

“She’s not like that.” You argued, brows furrowing.

“Really? Cause she was sucking me dry, and not even in a sexy way.”

You crinkled your nose at what he was implying. Your friend wasn’t like that, she truly had felt for Keigo, had liked him as her boyfriend. She wasn’t just a leech.

“I’m done talking about my failed love life.” Keigo said lowly, nudging your shoulder. “I just thought two friends could hangout, but it seems like you think all I do is try and fuck people.”

“No, Kiego…. That’s not what I meant.” Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, but right now…. You almost felt a twinge of sympathy for him.

Some of what he was saying made sense, how people would try and use him for various reasons. But that still didn’t explain his sudden and harsh breakup with your friend. And over text no less, a complete douche move!

But you felt bad about his words, about how he seemed to actually want to hangout, and yet you were accusing him of trying to sleep with you. But what about those visions you had had? Was that even how they went? Or were you remembering falsely based on your bias towards the man?

And what about his suggestive touches, his leering gaze? Was that maybe just how he always was, and it wasn’t exclusive to you? Were you inflating your place in his life, thinking that he wanted you?

It was confusing, and you didn’t want to think about it, try and untangle the lies from the truth. Right now, you just wanted to eat your muffin.

“If you really didn’t mean it, then can we go eat these in the park? I just want to chill with someone that isn’t trying to gain something from me. I want to spend time with someone that’s real.”

With a half-irritated sigh, you nodded, hoping you wouldn’t regret hanging out with the obnoxious man.

-----

He kept calling you, texting you. You’d had to unblock his number at some point, in order for him to text you about the bracelet and when he needed to look at it.

“Come overrrrr, I’m bored!”

“Birdie, are you hungry? The delivery place gave me extra Torikatsu and I don’t want it to go bad. Can I come drop it off?”

He’d swing by the jewelers, leaning over the counter to talk to you about a recent shoot he’d booked, or something he saw recently.

Keigo seemed to slowly insert himself into every facet of your live, against your will, ignoring every subtle, irritated attempt of yours to turn him away. Every single time you saw him, your mind would inevitably think of the visions, but you felt like you couldn’t trust yourself with those anymore.

The man assured you at every step, he had no romantic feelings for you, he just wanted a friend, someone to put him in his place, be honest with him.

You definitely were honest.

Snapping at him when he showed up at your apartment uninvited, coming up behind you on the street and grabbing your sides, laughing when you shrieked and tried to hit your attacker, only to realize it was Keigo.

Tearing into him when he tried to talk badly about your friend - she had been having less and less contact with you, and you couldn’t figure out why. Now your relationship with her was reduced to curt text messages. Maybe she was just going through a hard time, and wanted alone time? Still, you let her know you were there for her, whenever she needed.

You were honest when Keigo asked your opinion on food, TV shows, clothes, movies. It was almost satisfying saying something sucked, just to see Keigo’s face fall slightly, before he shook his head, whining.

“Then help me pick something out! I can’t do it without you-“

He totally could, he was just being a baby.

The more he inserted himself into your life, the more you realized that he was akin to a petulant child, just with muscles and a penchant for inappropriate touching.

Whenever he saw you, he’d try to draw you into a hug, letting his hands drop far down your back, way too low for you to feel comfortable. You’d slap them away, and Keigo would laugh, before ruffling your hair.

He’d have you come over so he could check your quirk suppressor, except he was in the middle of a show, and it was getting to the best part. (“Sit down, shhh, it’s just getting good!”) You’d have to sit through the entire thing, enduring Kiego’s hand lazily drawing shapes over your pants on your thigh, simply putting it back whenever you shoved it off.

He was insufferable, irritating to no end, but you could tell he was a lonely man, bitter about his love life and with his friendships.

So you tolerated his presence.

After all, he wasn’t trying to hurt you. That’s something he reiterated every single time you shied away from his touch. He made you feel like a fool for thinking the man was hitting on you, when he made it so clear that he wasn’t, only interested in friendship.

Until you fell asleep at his house.

Another one of those days were he needed to look at your quirk suppressor (which you were 99% sure was fine, it seemed like he just enjoyed seeing it on your wrist). He had been rummaging around in his room before he had to run and open the front door for you, talking as he walked back to return to his previous task.

Apparently he was trying to find a good shirt, seeing as how he had pants on, but his chest was bare. Keigo instructed you to sit on the bed for a second while he retreated into his massive closet, trying to find a good shirt  to go with the rest of his outfit.

His bedroom was pretty large, a full California King taking up the majority of the space, neatly made. The sheets and blankets felt soft beneath your fingers as you sat on it’s edge, prepared to wait for Keigo for a bit.

The man always took his fashion very seriously - one time he’d even spent two hours trying on clothes until he’d decided on an appropriate outfit to go to the park.

So you followed your tired eyes, exhausted from work and dealing with Keigo, worrying about your friend, daily life stressors and the like.  Keigo wouldn’t mind if you laid back, right? Your feet wouldn’t be on the bed, so it’d be fine.

And it was fine, pleasant, the room the perfect temperature.

You were roughly jerked out of sleep by pressure. Pressure on your hips, pressure on your lips.

Eyes jolting open, you tried to inhale, only to find yourself unsuccessful.

Keigo was on top of you.

Panicking, your hands came to push at him, a muffled sound of protest being squeaked out from where his lips pressed against yours.

Noticing you were awake, Keigo pulled back, smiling the whole while.

“I’m not willing to wait anymore, I just gotta have you.”

His eyes were glinting, hair tousled, still shirtless. You felt goosebumps arise as you remembered the vision you had so long ago, of this exact moment.

“Wai-mmph!” His lips were on yours again, passionate and warm, moving eagerly. A wet tongue pressed at the seam of your mouth, surprising you and making you blanch, which allowed the man access.

Kiego’s tongue explored the inside of your mouth, playfully tapping your own wet muscle, encouraging you to lift it and wrestle with him.

This was too weird, this wasn’t happening, you couldn’t do this-

Biting down hard, you snapped your teeth shut on his tongue, and Keigo yelped, drawing back immediately.

“Ouch, what the fuck!?! Chill out (Y/N), geez.” His hand was dabbing at his mouth, wincing when it came in contact with his bleeding tongue. You had bitten him deep, but you weren’t focused on that right now.

“What are-what are you doing?” Your voice was breathless, disoriented. The room felt…. Dark, and suffocating, as if it was closing in on the two of you, trapping you.

Keigo looked down at you, and it was only then that you realized you had been moved to lie on the bed fully, shoes off, legs splayed. The man rested on his stomach between them, his weight pressed against your body, keeping you still.

“I told you, I can’t wait anymore. I’ve been as nice as I can, but it’s time you started paying me back for everything I’ve done for you.”

What? Paying him back-was he talking about the quirk suppressor he had gifted you? Had he been lying about his true intentions this whole time?

“That’s not right, it was a gift, you-you don’t have to pay back a gift.” You spluttered, feeling as if your chest was collapsing.

Keigo shook his head, swooping down to leave a bloody kiss on your forehead, which you cringed at, before pulling back to speak.

“Nah, it wasn’t a gift. You know how expensive it was? You were always gonna have to compensate me. Now shush, I wanna feel you-“

One of his hands grabbed your jaw, keeping your face turned towards his, pressing down until tears formed in your eyes. His lips were bloody from the bite on his tongue, tasting unmistakably like iron.

You didn’t want this.

Trying to bite him again left you with a slap to your thigh, making you cry out. Keigo huffed out a laugh against your mouth.

He detached from your lips, just to start nibbling at your jawline, elating streaks of red where his lips touched.

“God, you are so sexy. I was trying to chill, but then I came out and you were sleepin’ all cute, and I couldn’t fucking stop myself from touching.”

“Stop doing this, I can pay you with something different. I don’t wanna do this Keigo.” You whispered, on the verge of crying.

“No, I get to decide what you’ll be doing for me, it’s my bracelet-“

“It’s not, you gave it to me, please stop-“

“Shut up.” He growled sinking his teeth into the side of your neck, nipping at the skin hard enough to have you screaming. “You’re so ungrateful, where’s my thanks? I’ve done so much for you.”

“Thank you, thank you Keigo, I appreciate it all-“ You hurried out, hoping it was what he wanted to hear “But I can’t do this, please don’t make me. I wanna go home.”

“There we go, I like the sound of you thanking me. You’re going to thank me for each and every time you cum tonight, got it?”

“No, no, we can’t do this, I can’t! Get off of me, please-“

“You’ll do it, or else I’ll whip you until your flesh hangs off of you in strings.” He hissed, squeezing your jaw cruelly.

The tears in your eyes overflowed as you fell silent.

“Aw, birdie, don’t cry. I’m not gonna hurt you, I never have, right?” He waited for a second, watching your face before he pressed harder, eyes hardening “Right?“

You nodded jerkily, and Keigo came to kiss your tears away, savoring their salty taste as they rolled down your cheeks.

“Keigo, this isn’t right though, please get off me. I don’t want this-“

“You want me to take this away?” A hand caught your shaking wrist, the one that had the quirk suppressor fastened snugly around it, wrenching it up so both of you could see it. “Huh? Put you back where you were in your miserable little life? Running away from everyone, holing up in your apartment, not willing to touch or be touched…”

The very thought made your insides churn, and a fresh round of tears rolled down your face as you shook your head no, lips wobbling as you whined. You felt so pathetic, so small and dumb underneath Keigo.

“That’s what I thought. You’re going to relax now, right? No more begging unless it’s for more.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, beginning to shuffle around until he could slide his hands under your shirt, pressing against your tummy as you flinched away.

“Don’t worry birdie, you’re gonna like every single thing we’re gonna do. You’ve had sex now, yeah? Since I gave you the bracelet?”

You shook your head “no”, it’s not like you were eager for sex before you got it, and all the touching-without-terrifying-visions thing was still new to you, the dating world was being eased into. Somehow though, every single date seemed to be crashed by the man on top of you.

Keigo lit up like a Christmas tree, licking his lips gleefully. “Okay, okay, I can-whew, that’s hot-I can be gentle.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince you, his hands skirting up your ribs, shucking up your shirt as the traveled higher and higher.

“Keigo please-“

“Don’t you dare say stop, I’m not gonna. You’re the first person that doesn’t want anything from me, you’re real, and I’m not stopping.”

His admission made you cringe, recoiling from his touch. He followed you, palms finally smoothing over your breasts, over your bra.

“You’re going to do what I say, or else this-“ Your wrist was wrenched into view, red-and-black bracelet glittering. “-gets removed. And I’ll still do whatever the fuck I want, but you’ll be off in your mind having visions of who-knows-what while I have my way. Got it?”

Your blood chilled, body suddenly feeling ice cold. His tone was dead serious, spitting out the words with a sense of finality.

“So, just lay there and take it birdie, I’ll be good to you.”

#yandere keigo takami #keigo x reader #Keigo Takami #yandere takami keigo #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #Yandere bnha #yandere #tw.dubcon #tw.noncon #tw.somno #tw dubcon #creepy keigo

[onovnii]

share your om trans hc Right Now

# obey me trans headcanons

feat. mammon , leviathan , satan , asmodeus , beelzebub , belphegor

summary. my gender headcanons for the obey me brothers

cw. trans talk 😗 , dysphoria

author n. reqs are closed but… anon you dont know HOW excited i am to share these… ive mentioned trans levi b4 but im gonna briefly talk abt everyone !! (and THEN dive into trans levi) ALSO!! i did some research for all the identities i listed but pls lmk if i got any of them wrong 😭!!!

disclaimer! everyone experiences gender differently, so if none of what i say relates to you in any way, that’s ok! these are based off of my OWN experiences.

i’m not sure how to categorize this so i’ll just dump this here ???

as angels, the brothers weren’t created with any specific gender in mind. (to me, all angels present masculine but they aren’t men)

in the celestial realm, since the brothers didn’t really pay attention to their gender identity, they never really got time to explore it. so maybe all of them were some form of nonbinary ?? (i think agender)

it’s only AFTER they turned to demons, the thought of gender came to mind. (some brothers even changed their physical form)

(i wish i had the time to draw these ajwjdcx)

mammon.

bigender , he/she

▸ at first mammon didn’t really care 💀

▸ he was too busy trying to hold her family together.

▸  when mammon became a model, THATS when the topic of gender interested her.

▸  over the years, mammon had tested out nearly everything.

▸ a more feminine form, voice etc etc

▸ she was the first to actually transition ^^

▸ despite all the mean comments his brothers say 😒 they take it v seriously!!

▸ when mammon came to them to nervously ask them to use she/her for him sometimes, they all were v supportive :’)

▸  mammon keeps her masc form (the one in game) but time to time, mammon will change it to a more fem form on will

▸ his feminine body looks relatively similar, just shorter and slightly longer hair (think wolfcut)

leviathan (aka me projecting LMAO)

agender , she/he/they + neos

▸ *i haven’t fully decided what neos levi would use…+ i feel like he’d use multiple sets so its rlly up to ur choice lol

▸ anyway,, levi feels the MOST amount of dysphoria out of his brothers :(

▸  gender gets real confusing for them so he’s been through MULTIPLE identities in her lifetime

▸  for like the longest, levi didn’t know what to do abt his dysphoria…he hadn’t figured out how to change forms like mammon 😞

▸  mammon helped levi the most ^^ taught them how to change their body at will to help relieve any stress it might’ve brought.

▸  when levi decided they wanted a bigger chest, it worked for a little bit! …then he felt a little too feminine n the cycle repeats.

▸  they couldn’t find the right in-between for him so levi would kinda have breakdowns over it 🙁(me tbh…)

▸  mammon was right there trying to help his little bro.

▸ it wasn’t till much later, when mammon heard asmo talking about it, he learned about the existence of binders 😯

▸ offered the idea to levi, which was sort of confused by but yk, went along with it.

▸ the binder idea was great, it acted like a middle ground for him(?)

▸ he could present masc some days, while still having the body he preferred (levi does prefer fem bodies :)

▸ their bottom dysphoria is a mess, let’s not get into it 🧍🏽

▸ levi needed lots of reassurance when ‘coming out’ to his brothers. mammon was right behind him cheering him on :D

▸ every one of them all helped levi in little or big ways :’)

▸ asmo’s the brother who helped him with his physical appearance the most (buying clothes, styling hair)

▸ satan got books from the human realm that further dived into gender (i believe that the devildom doesn’t have much bc..again they dont generally care) to help levi find a label or anything else that could help :)

▸  belphie and him have some sort of solidarity between them

▸  both of them got similar issues so they’re just always there for eachother. even in silence.

▸ levi’s preferred body looks similar to how it is in game, tall lanky n kinda lean? (their weight fluctuates a lot..that’s a topic for a different post)

▸ but it’s more feminine as well! in the basic areas like the chest, hips and thighs. (more curves)

▸  but she keeps the body hair so…pretty much rivals beel when it comes to that lol

satan

no label , they/them

▸  satan already has identity issues..feels bad

▸ did they ever use it to differentiate themselves from lucifer? absolutely.

▸  did that cause more problems for them? absolutely.

▸  satan struggles just as much as levi, but they keep quiet about it.

▸ the only one they rlly confide in is asmo.

▸ they tested out different sets of pronouns, identities etc but nothing rlly fit...

▸ until belphie just straight up told them, they could just not go by anything. 

▸  satan prefers not going by anything (honestly no pronouns is the best way to refer to satan…)

▸ less confusion, less things to worry about, they’d rather not think about it.

▸  satan’s form is still masc, they prefer it that way. (they do however, have a more feminine face i.e features. it’s really cute actually)

▸ does a lot of research to help out their brothers ^^ 

asmodeus

genderfluid , any prns

▸  the girlboy boygirl we all deserve AND needed!

▸  the most comfortable in his gender.

▸  asmo uses ALL pronouns and doesn’t mind what set you use !!

▸  typically their brothers will use a set that correlates to however asmo’s presenting as

▸  which changes a lot tbh…

▸ he loves to express his identity through clothes and always explores different ways to express himself.

▸  never sticks to one thing either…

▸  tbh, asmo doesn’t care for labels. she just slaps one on to make it easier for others to refer to him.

▸  prefers fem terms :]

▸  asmo’s form is a mix between feminine and masculine. at first glance, you can’t really tell (i wish i were him)

beelzebub

agender , he/him

▸  he just used he/him bc that’s what he’s used to and most comfortable in.

▸  still isn’t a man or fully identifies as one.

▸  beel doesn’t really care about his gender, he has more things to worry about.

▸  he cares more about his brothers though!!! always there for moral support:(

▸  specifically levi and belphie. beel knows they both struggle the most with it so he’s there with whatever they need :<

▸  his form is basically the same as canon. (his face IS more feminine tho...like satan its v v cute :)

belphegor demiboy , they/he/she

▸  like levi, struggles a lot.

▸  the worst part about it is that belphie doesn’t care enough to do anything about it.

▸  cue wallowing in your own discomfort for years… LMAO (me)

▸  nah but fr for the longest, belphie hasn’t felt truly comfortable in their own body.

▸  they were kinda in denial for a bit 😯…

▸  once the gears finally clicked, they told their brothers at like dinner and like everyone was like ?? why didnt you ?? say so ????

▸  cue all 6 of her older bros coddling him…cue belphie enjoying it bc he’s got the biggest younger sibling syndrome ever….

▸  belphie grew out their hair because it sorta helped. (and he was just lazy to cut it lol…)

▸  like mentioned before, he and levi has some sort of solidarity going on.

▸  they help eachother a lot (bc they understand eachother the most)

▸  funny, you’d think it would be beel…

▸  i mean, it IS most of the time. but it’s just nice to have someone like you yknow??

▸  his form is more feminine than masc, he probably just thinks having tits is more comfortable 😭💀

▸  their voice is relatively the same.. she was too lazy to change it hahdkcc

-val

#valsfw #obey me headcanons #mammon headcanons #leviathan headcanons #obey me satan headcanons #satan headcanons #asmodeus headcanons #asmo headcanons #beelzebub headcanons #beel headcanons #belphegor headcanons #belphie headcanons #these are all over the place #i wrote these in like 10 minutes goodnighjt

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

Quiver (bbh)

Summary: You meet a man who seems to know nearly everything about you, save your name.

As with nearly every Baek fic I write, for @illneverrecover! Although she actually paid me for this one hahaha

Also thank you to my sister for betaing and making my gorgeous banner!

Warnings: angst, violence and death tw, unprotected sex, outdoors sex, oral sex (f. receiving), this is more soft and sad than horny tbh

Word Count: 10,219

Deja vu is something you don't feel very often, and so when it washes over you in a wave that leaves goosebumps on your flesh, you look around.

You're not sure what you're looking for, but you feel that when you find it, you'll know.

Your eyes fall on a man sitting at a table, looking down at a book. His hair is slicked back but with pieces falling into his face, and as if he knows you're staring, he looks up at you.

He has the warmest brown eyes, and something like a shock shoots through your heart. Your feet are moving before you realize it.

"Have we met before?"

He smiles, and your heart flutters.

"Maybe in another life."

His name, it turns out, is Baekhyun, and he works at some investment firm you've never heard of but it doesn't matter because he has the most endearing way of smiling at you while you're speaking to him.

You assume he has money because the car he leads you to is nice, not ridiculously so but expensive to upkeep, a foreign model that's sleek and your favorite color: red.

"Why red?" You ask, sliding into the leather seat of this stranger's car because you just know he's safe, somewhere in you.

He gives you that half smile again, the one that gives you something akin to deja vu.

"Reminds me of someone."

You wonder if you might fuck him on the first date, if coffee even counts as a first date, and it's the first time you've ever done that but when he makes you tea and you lean against his kitchen counter he gives you this look. It's like there's something dark and deep in his brown eyes, something both flirty and almost darkly lustful.

It makes your heart flip. It makes your body tingle. It makes you a little afraid.

But you've never been one to run from fear, especially when it's all wrapped up with excitement and lust.

When you're sitting on his couch and sipping tea he's swiveled his body toward you just slightly, open and inviting, but he doesn't make a move, just watches you, listens as you fill the silence, laughs when you make a face when you pick up his tea instead of yours, which is bitter and devoid of the sugar you love.

You make the first move, in fact, end up clutching at his shirt as you kiss his mouth over and over because it feels soft and his tongue is hot and it feels familiar.

His hands skate up your sides once, above your shirt, and then again, under it, and that feels familiar too, long fingers on your flesh.

"You haven't met your soulmate yet," the tarot reader said. You and a friend had visited her a few years ago, when you were half drunk at a carnival.

"At least," she'd continued, "not in this lifetime."

"Are you sure we haven't met before?" You ask, two weeks later when you've spent almost all

your free time with him, and most of it in his bed.

"Maybe in your dreams," he'd quipped, and you elbow him but he's already spooning you and you're too half asleep to do much damage.

"Always in mine," he says, softly, just as you're drifting to sleep, and you can't pry your eyes open long enough to ask what that means.

You start a fling of sorts with this mysterious man, and for the most part, you’re happy. But then you start having these dreams.

Sometimes, there’s fire on a wall in front of you and when you turn around it’s behind you, too.

You can feel your skin burning and you can barely breathe when you wake.

Sometimes there’s thunder booming all around you, lightning that streaks across the sky and you’re running and running toward someone, a man with warm brown eyes, but you can’t get there and when you look down you’re running in water up to your waist.

Always, he’s there. You suppose it’s because you and Baekhyun have been spending so much time together, that he’s in your head all the time as much as you hate to admit it.

Finally, he’s next to you in bed when you bolt upright, frightened by the thunder because it’s one of those fire dreams, one where you can feel the flesh on your arms crinkling, and it burns burns burns until it doesn’t, until you feel so cold you wake up shivering.

You’re afraid and disoriented and the dream all comes out in a rush — you tell him everything, small details about how you’re clutching a rosary in one hand, how the baubles on it popped n the flames, and he puts his arms around you, lets you bury your face in his chest as your heart rate slows down.

“Your name was Eva, then,” he murmurs, so quietly you’d think you were still dreaming.

Something about it rings true. You wonder if you’d heard that in the dream and told him still half asleep, so you nod against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes into your neck after pulling you into his lap and it’s so mournful it almost frightens you.

“You can’t help my dreams,” you say playfully, trying to forget it, and he gives you the saddest smile.

“No, not those.”

You keep having those dreams, and they get more and more detailed and sometimes your name is Eva and sometimes it’s Yui and sometimes it’s Sarabeth and they’re all different, you look different, but you always feel how it ends.

And Baekhyun is always there. He looks the same, unlike you, and sometimes he’s your enemy, sometimes he’s your friend but most of the time, he’s your lover.

The dream that finally makes you confront him goes like this.

Your name is Angelica and your father was royalty but you’re just a bastard, your mother a commoner, a servant of the crown.

Once you’re old enough to have his eyes, you have to stay hidden like some fairy tale princess. Except you’re no princess in your dusty cabin, and you learn to hunt small game so that your mother doesn’t have to steal so much from the castle. It’s good that you learn, because your mother stops coming to the cabin and you learn that the plague has taken her.

The plague has taken nearly everyone, and you haven’t seen another person in months when you happen upon a man.

You have your bow drawn before he ever sees you, the string (made of rabbit sinew because it’s all you had, the bow made of oak that you’d chopped yourself) and arrow pointed straight and true.

He shifts, turns around and you hesitate just a moment when you catch his gaze, something familiar in his deep brown eyes. It’s long enough for him to draw his own bow, and he’s quick, quicker than you are, so you let your arrow fly.

His arrow flies a second after yours and they meet in the space between you, shredding each other in two.

You’d thought, then, that it was an omen.

Good or bad, you didn’t know.

You’d run back to the cabin and locked yourself in, but he’d followed you.

A few hours later, he knocked on the door and your heart started to race. Your mother had warned you what men could do to an unattended woman.

There was nothing else, though, and you waited half an hour to open the door.

A basket is sitting on the doorstep, and it contains dried meat and fresh cherries and peaches.

You hadn’t had fruit in years. There’s also a small bouquet of flowers, filled with dandelion fluff and baby’s breath, a few blossoms of lavender. It smells lovely.

You take your time eating the peaches, they have the sweetest juice that you let run down your chin like a child.

It’s been so long since you’ve eaten well that you overdo it and your stomach feels tied in a knot, but you’re smiling when you fall asleep that night, for what feels like the first time.

There’s another basket at the end of the week but he’s standing on the doorstep with it, smiling.

“Maiden, I was wondering if you had any water?”

“Will you draw your bow again when I turn my back?” You ask, wary, and he shakes his head, laughing softly.

“You drew yours first, maiden. I was surprised. The plague has taken so many it seems like I’m the only one left in all the world.”

He doesn’t look intimidating, doesn’t look as if he’s about to rush you, but you’ll be damned if you’ll let a strange man into your home, so you sit on the doorstep with him and eat the peaches he’d brought.

He watches the juice drip down your fingers, how you lick it off, with something in his eyes you haven’t seen before.

You sit and chat for a while, still wary, but he keeps looking at you like that, and you wonder if this is what it feels like, if this is what is to be wanted.

Three days and three dinners of peaches and dried meat later, you let him inside for a glass of water drawn from the well out back.

He drinks it down like he’s been thirsty for days, and you feel guilty for not letting him in earlier.

The way he licks his lips when he’s done makes something flutter inside your stomach and you put a hand there, low, almost on your pubic bone.

He watches every move you make, this mystery man who doesn’t have a hint of facial hair despite living in the woods, watches where you place your hands and fingers, how you move your mouth. He watches you as if you’re something fascinating, like watching fire burn wood down to embers.

When you were young, your mother took you to the Maypole festival, and all the children had been given these long sticks to dip in the fire, to twirl them around and make shapes in the night sky. You’d done it over and over until the stick was burned down too far and even then, you tried to dip it and burned your wrist.

He looks at you like you’d looked at the shapes you’d made with the lit stick. With wonder.

The first time he touches you it feels like the first time you’d felt warm water on your skin as a child, warmed on the fire with an iron pot, your mother spooning it over you slowly.

He touches you that way, slowly, murmuring bits of your name and it slides off his tongue like honey.

“Angelica. Angel,” he murmurs, right at the shell of your ear, and your bones seem to turn to jelly as you melt into him, your back against his chest.

Your mother had told you that one day you’d have a lover.

“Not a king,” she’d said, “but something more.”

You’d asked her what’s more than a king and she’d only smiled, held a finger to her lips as if the two of you shared a secret.

You did, your secret was that you existed, that your father was who he was and that your mother wasn’t his queen, at least not in name.

You tremble underneath his hands and when he turns you around, presses his mouth to yours, he does it slowly. You’re the one who grabs the back of his head, threads your fingers through the long hair at the nape of his neck, wanting him closer, so close, wanting to burrow inside him and live there because you’re aching for him all over and you don’t know what it means.

“Let me call you by your name,” you plead when he’s kneeling before you, pulling down your underclothes, spreading the curls at your core where you’re hot and aching and wet.

He shakes his head. “I have too many names.”

“Tell me one of them,” you beg.

He doesn’t answer, presses his mouth to your cunt and you gasp, tugging his hair hard and he makes a low groan, throat exposed, that makes something come awake in your lower stomach, something somehow both like fire and honey, hot and slow and sweet.

“Give me your name,” you demand.

One corner of his mouth turns up.

“My name is Love,” he tells you, and presses his face back into your cunt, inhales like he loves the scent of you, his hands spreading apart your thighs so roughly that you brace your hands on the table behind you.

It isn’t a name you’d heard any man to have, but maybe he isn’t a man, maybe he’s one of the fae your Irish born mother told you stories about when you were a girl.

Maybe that’s the something more your mother told you about your future lover after reading your palm when you were sixteen.

You hunt together, and you’re in awe of how quick he is with his bow, how he shoots straight through the heart of even the smallest animals, voles and rabbits that you roast over the fire and feast on while he tells you wild tales about his brothers and sisters.

One rules the sea, he tells you, with a magic trident. One makes lightning bolts for his father deep underground where there’s fire so hot it melts rock and stone.

You’re fascinated, sit for hours just watching his mouth as he speaks and sometimes you vault into his lap mid sentence, silence him with your mouth on his because you want want want.

Your mother had told you many things about your future lover, about how you should be demure just like a man wants, but you can’t even try, not with him. Not with your mysterious, many named, no named lover, because he presses your nails deep into his chest when you straddle his hips, hisses when you leave bite marks along his throat and collarbone.

You pretend to be demure sometimes, if only to make him frown, to make him throw you down on your bedclothes roughly, to bite your lip bloody.

“Don’t pretend you don’t have talons, angel,” he growled, and you can’t help the way you laugh loud and open, even with your legs spread wantonly.

Physical love isn’t at all like your mother had described it, and you wonder if she’d only ever been with the king, with a man who cared so little for his paramours that he’d allowed your mother to die alone in the slums, locking her out from the castle so that his heirs might live.

It isn’t something that you lie down and take the way your mother must have, sometimes it’s animalistic, feral like you’d seen horses mate at the castle’s stables when you were young.

You present yourself on all fours and he slides his hands down your ass, grabs the flesh there to part you, presses his face into your cunt until your thighs are shaking. It’s not love that you feel during those times, not exactly, more like that want want want that you feel so often with him.

Your breath catches when he pulls your hair, wraps it around his fist so that your back arches, so that you twist to look at him. Later, when you’re both sweaty and sated, that’s when the love comes, loud and blooming in your chest as he kisses the fingerprint bruises he’s left on your hips, his fingers gentle on your sensitive skin until your breath slows.

Love is a thing that blooms, you would write if you’d ever been taught how. Love is my man’s name and it’s blooming in me like spring flowers.

You go for walks to gather berries because you’re too busy fucking to hunt and you can get by on a few more fruits and you don’t want to wake him. Once you’d brought home rose petals for tea and a piece of a honey comb that had made his eyes light up.

He’d spread the honey across your nipples, suckled and nipped there until you were sore, and one day, you want that again, especially the way his brown eyes sparkled when he’d seen it.

You have a way with the bees, after all, a way of singing high and sweet that makes them buzz around you slowly instead of angrily.

You’re halfway down the path before you realize you’ve left your quiver and bow. Love (both the man and the feeling) makes you feel stupid, heady and slow, and you pause for a moment, wondering if you should turn back.

Instead, you head forward because it’ll be sunset soon and you won’t be able to find that tree, the one with the beehive and honeycomb that your man loves so much.

It happens so quickly it feels like an instant. You step out from the bushes after gathering some blackberries, so juicy they’ve stained your fingers, and the next thing you know, you’re on the ground. When you try to stand, you can’t, a pain blooming (a lot like love) through your stomach and you’re sure there weren’t any raspberries so what’s this red spreading out onto the ground?

You see your man’s boots, barely laced, before you see his face and someone behind you is stuttering but you hear the swish of your lover’s arrow, a choked, gurgling sound and then he’s knelt down at your side.

“Angel, angel,” he whispers, and he’s crying and you want to tell him not to because it makes you afraid.

What’s happened? What’s wrong?

You don’t realize you’re not actually speaking until he cradles your face, lies down in the dirt to face you, and everything but his touch, his eyes, seems far away and unimportant.

“I’m sorry,” he says brokenly. “I need you to remember. When next we meet, remember my name.”

You want to. You want to remember everything about him but you’re sure that you’re floating away now.

“Baekhyun,” he tells you. “My name will be Baekhyun.”

As an immortal, it's hard to remember every moment. Years and decades blur together. The only moments Baekhyun can call to mind in perfect recall are the first times he's seen you

For a while, he’d thought Rome might be the worst lifetime he’d ever have.

He knows what he’s supposed to do, knows it’s his job, but he can barely ever bring himself to do it.

In Rome, you’re excited, young, bouncing around with your hair braided. Fire red, always red, always as fiery as your personality. “Eros, right? God of love.”

He’d smiled, wondering if he looked as tired as he felt. “You think I’m a god? I’m flattered.”

You scoff, swirl your dress around as you turn, speaking with your hands as always and his heart aches with how familiar it all is. “Don’t think that means you’re special.”

Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yes. Means that you’re here to help me fall in love.”

“Is that so?” He can’t stop smiling at you, despite knowing what will inevitably happen next.

“Mmhm.” You’d taken his hand, flipped your braid over to the other side of your shoulder. He always tries. He always tries, gods damn it, damn his father and his brothers and sisters, he tries.

But there’s always this moment, where you take his hand, or brush your knuckles against his lips just so, or you just look at him up under your lashes, and the arrow he’s supposed to be aiming feels like it goes straight through his heart.

“I have someone in mind.”

It’s like the arrow in his heart twists, and gods know his arrows have always been true and fatal.

Your smile is so bright, and his heart is so full but it hurts at the same time and what a curse this is, to be able to fall in love with you so easily but have you fall for someone else just as fast.

He tells himself that he won’t try to change your mind, that he won’t let himself get close to you as you go on this search for your true mate.

You’d been childhood sweethearts, you and your match, but he’s been called away to war and you’ve been in mourning ever since.

He’s a god, but he is the god of love, after all, and with all your heart you believed that you loved another. He tells himself he’s doing the right thing… for the third time.

The first time, when it had all started, he’d fallen in love with you and seduced you and you’d forgotten all about your true match and it had all ended in fire and blood.

In Rome, in your third lifetime, he tells himself he won’t let that happen again. So when you put your hand on his thigh when you crouch down to drink on your journey, he wills his skin not to heat and his heart not to skip.

Three weeks in and you’re exhausted, your feet are swollen and bleeding from all the walking and you slide into his furs instead of your own, press your face against his chest.

“Maybe he’s gone,” you say, quietly, and Baekhyun is as still as death, telling himself he doesn’t want to lean down to kiss you, to tell you that it doesn’t matter where your sweetheart is because he’s here and ready and he wants you more than anything.

“We’ll find him,” he promises, and it’s a promise he keeps, even when you press your mouth to his and he takes it, this small comfort, until you fall into a fitful sleep.

Greece was bittersweet, because you found your match in the end and Baekhyun shot his arrow hoping that he’d miss. But his arrow was true, shot straight into the heart of your paramore.

You found your true match, fell in love, had children, and Baekhyun could have gone. Could have sailed away at sea, gone anywhere in the world. But even in Greece he’d spent three lifetimes with you (in one way or another) and he can’t bring himself to be more than a few miles away from you.

Instead, he’d watch you playing with your daughter in the garden, watch you kiss your husband, laughing into his mouth when he picked you up.

He watched you grow old, have grandchildren, plant roses that still never bloomed. You were never a gardener, no matter how you tried. It’s odd, how happy he feels for you, and how his heart clenches in his chest, how hard he wishes it were him.

He would never grow old, and he would never have you more than a few fleeting weeks, months, once even two wonderful years. Eros is love, and love isn’t supposed to fall in love.

So when he did, all those years ago, his father cursed him to find your match, over and over and over. It was you then and it’s you in Greece and Rome and England and Portugal and a thousand other countries that didn’t even have names when he’d met you there.

He’d thought Greece would be the worst because of the longing, because of the jealousy that brewed vile in the back of his throat, but Rome was much worse.

The Church ruled everything and at first Baekhyun thought that was normal. After all, when he was young he and his family had ruled everything. These are just different gods, although perhaps harsher ones.

They called you a harlot because of the fire red of your hair, the way you wore dresses slit up to your hip, the way you'd laugh if someone asked the last time you'd gone to confession.

"You should go to Mass," he'd warned with a lock of that fire red hair slipping through his fingers.

You'd smiled at him. "Why's that, lover? You want to hear my confession?"

He tugs your hair, exposing your throat as you let out a raspy moan, grinding against his thigh.

"What have you to confess, stellina?”

(Of all the languages and all the pet names he'd called you, stellina is his favorite, translates to star, and you burn so bright and beautiful it breaks his heart.)

"Impure thoughts," you muse. "Fornication before marriage.”

You pause. "This might take some time, amore."

You slide down under the linen, leaving open mouthed kisses and nips on his hip bones and thighs, and he forgets what he was going to warn you about.

(He loves any term you call him, in Spain mi corazon, in England love, in German liebling. But his true favorite is when you learn his name, his true name.)

You die fighting, that lifetime, clawing at the priests who’ve decided a witch needs baptism, holding you under the water until you finally stop, your nails broken and bloody.

Baekhyun finds you there, hours too late because he’d been sleeping off the night before, when he’d warned you about Mass, when you’d both stayed up all night, love talk and making love and a good deal of fucking, too, and he hates himself.

Hates that even though he is what he is, he needs sleep and food and water. He hates himself when he lifts you up, your fire red hair darkened by the water, hates himself when he kisses your bloody nails one by one and buries you behind the garden where you used to plant roses that never bloomed.

He hates himself most because it never gets easier, seeing you die, never gets easier knowing that he can’t, that he’s cursed to do this over and over.

In 1402, in Malaysia, you’d just had two streaks of red locks in the front, tendrils that stuck to the sides of your face when you were sweating, and you’re sweating when he first sees you, although you hit him before he ever sees your face.

You’d dropped down from a tree branch, locked your arms around his neck and cut off his airflow. It isn’t as if you could have killed him, but he respects it, all the same. You’ve got this little knife and you slice his throat but it doesn’t bleed, closes up as you watch and you drop to your knees, wide eyed but still, not submitting. Even when you know he’s a god, you never submit. At least, not that way.

Later, he kisses all the scars on your forearms and wrists, defensive wounds from battles and scuffles with the male soldiers who’d found you out.

"I never let them break me," you'd said, proudly, but there's something behind your eyes that makes him want to slaughter all the male soldiers in their sleep, bring you their heads, a sacrifice like the old gods had demanded.

As he had once demanded, before he met a human girl with an immortal soul full of fire and was punished for worshipping her.

Now it's 2021 and he's been through so many years, and he's tired. He's changed his name, over and over, from Eros to Cupid to then more common names.

He's been Baekhyun the last four lifetimes because you seem to like it, it makes you giggle in 1924 when your red (always red, red like fire and blood and love and all things that are important to him) hair was bobbed and you were wearing a black sequined dress at a speakeasy.

"Baek," you'd laughed, tipsy, one hand on his arm and he couldn't stop smiling at you. "Almost like Bark, like a dog."

"I'll be whatever you want me to be," he'd answered, flirting but also honest. He'd always been whatever you wanted because he got so few years with you, each time.

"You'd be my dog?" Your eyes sparkled with booze and excitement.

He nodded. "Follow you around like a puppy."

When you'd given him an incredulous smile, he'd opened his mouth in the middle of a packed speakeasy in New York City and barked like a dog.

The way you'd laughed is something he can hear in his dreams years later, tries to make it the memory he remembers most instead of the ones where you'd died screaming.

Now, there are no more gods who want you for sacrifice, all of his kind who were vengeful had gone silent, moved on or passed on, including his father who'd cursed him in the first place.

He's hoping, every lifetime, that this is where it ends. He's hoping that this time he doesn't have to tell you.

He's wrong, just like he had been in 1425 and 1604 and 1976. The curse outs itself, as curses always do.

You sit up in bed, watching him sleep and shivering, for what seems like hours after that dream.

He wakes slowly, but scrambles up into a seated position as soon as he’s fully conscious, being careful not to touch you.

“Do you remember?” He asks.

“I don’t know.” You mumble, even if you have a feeling you do.

“At some point, you always remember.”

“What are you talking about? Why are you so goddamn cryptic?” Your voice is hoarse and loud.

He nods, as if expecting your outburst.

“Sometimes you’re not ready to hear.”

You want to scream in frustration. “Hear what?”

“What I am. What we are.”

“And what are we?”

“Immortals.”

You gawk at him. He makes it sound so simple, like he’s talking to a child.

“You’re an immortal?”

“You, too.” He pauses. “Well, in a different way.”

“So what, you’re telling me that was real? My dream? Angelica?”

Baekhyun lets out a long breath, shifts on the bed to face you.

“You were Eva. Angelica. Yui. In Greece I called you stellina. You’ve had more names than I have.”

You look up into his eyes and if he’s lying, he deserves an Academy award for the performance.

“What… what are you?”

You aren’t sure if you’re frightened or intrigued or both.

Baekhyun smiles then, wryly.

“Eros. Cupid. Angelica simply called me Love.”

“You’re telling me you’re like... the god of love? The one with the arrows?”

He looks as if he wants to laugh at you but wisely, he doesn’t. Instead he nods.

“Is it… is it always like it was when… when I was Angelica?” You ask, breathing in deeply because you remembered the pain in your chest, the way the blood spread out on the dirt in your lucid dream.

“Almost always,” he says softly, and reaches out to put his hands on yours.

You would have thought you would have flinched away but instead, his touch seems to comfort you and you lean into him.

“What happens when I don’t?” You ask, curiously, and something shutters over his eyes.

“You’re happy.” He rubs your knuckles between his fingers.

It’s a lot to take in and you have a million more questions but also, you can’t think of a single one that you can put into words. You pace around the bedroom and when that’s not enough, your entire apartment, and then outside to the elevator and back and he stays put, sitting cross legged in bed and looking at you with those deep brown eyes.

Finally, you plop down on the edge of the bed, exhausted.

“So what do we do?”

He just looks at you, again with that bemused smile playing at the edge of his mouth.

“How do we fix it?” You demand.

Instead of responding, he takes your hands in his again, brushes his lips across your knuckles but this time you do recoil.

“I’m not going to die horribly again. You can’t want that.”

“Of course I don’t,” he murmurs, and you want a reaction, something other than the way he’s just looking at you so you shove him and he just lets you, falls back on the bed when you do it a second time.

“You just keep letting me die?” You accuse, crawling up onto the bed and he makes a growl in the back of his throat, grasps your wrists with one of his hands and pins you when you try to shove him again.

“I never let you die. I try over and over and over to save you, but I can’t. The only way I can save you is by finding-”

He looks away from you, shuts his mouth with a click of his teeth and you wriggle under him.

“Finding what?” You insist.

He lets you go, rolls over and puts his forearm over his eyes.

“Your true match. In all the lifetimes that you’ve lived to old age in, I shot my arrow to find your true match.”

You deflate, lying there next to him and staring up at the ceiling.

“So you’re saying in order to live like a normal person, I have to fall in love with someone else?”

“Yes,” he says miserably. After a few moments, he lifts his arm and opens one eye to look at you. “Got anyone in mind?”

You shove at his arm, but not as hard this time, and he breaks into a smile, takes you into his arms. You melt against him, just like before, because that’s what feels right, that’s what feels natural.

“That happened? Before?” You ask, stroking his hair and usually he preens at the attention, leans back to kiss you but now he buries his face in your hair, avoiding your gaze.

He murmurs something in affirmation and kisses just under your earlobe.

“You found someone else for me?”

He nods, still not lifting his head, and you huff out a breath, wanting some kind of reaction out of him.

“Was he hot?”

Baekhyun groans and laughs, rolls over onto his back. ‘You always do this.”

“Always do what?” You demand, poking at his side. “You know all these things about me...or well, some version of me, and I don’t know anything about you.”

He looks at you, smiling just a little. “You know everything about me.”

You huff, frustrated. “It doesn’t feel like it. I want to know more. I want to know how I died, why I died, what all this means.”

To his credit, Baekhyun tries to explain it to you. The curse, his family, but it’s all twisted up in your mind with these memories you have of him in past lives, of being so in love with him you can barely breathe, wanting him so badly you can barely sit still, and it ends with you tearing off his clothes and him laughing into your mouth as you guide him inside you.

After, you’re contrite, kissing along his collarbone.

“I don’t want you to find anyone else for me.”

Baekhyun makes a sound in the back of his throat and you don’t know if it’s surprise or something else.

“I don’t want anyone but you,” you continue, orgasm drunk and with this fire burning under your skin, remembering how Angelica felt, how Yui felt, moving closer to him on the bed because you can’t bear to have your skin not touching his in every place you can.

He pulls you on top of him, kissing you after you squeal in surprise and your lips feel swollen and bruised already but it’s the sweetest ache.

“I don’t think I could, even if you asked,” he admits, and something about the way he says it makes you proud, makes your heart swell. His hands skate over your upper arms and his touch gives you goosebumps.

“No?” You shift to spread your thighs, liking the way he hardens under you with just the barest movement.

Baekhyun shakes his head, his tongue coming out slowly to lick his lips. You see that you’ve bitten his bottom lip bloody and it sends a shot of heat through you.

“Usually I never found anyone else for you, not after I’d touched you. I started out meaning to find someone for you. Touching you first… having you first… it makes things complicated.”

You don’t speak but shift again and it seems to spur him on.

His face is flushed and it’s cute, makes you smile.

“You know why.”

“Do I?” You’re grinning now, like the cat that ate the canary, and he groans but he’s smiling.

He sits up suddenly, bracing himself against the headboard and he puts his hands on your hips to move you backwards so that his half hard erection sits right at the cleft of your cunt and when you gasp and try to guide him inside you, he tightens his hands with a slight shake of his head.

“You gonna make me say it?”

“You know I am.”

You gasp when he puts pressure on your clit with his thumb, humming in the back of his throat.

“I’ve loved you for centuries, and I’ll love you for centuries more, stellina.”

“What does that mean?” You gasp, your insides on fire with lust and love and full to bursting, rocking your hips forward and he gives you what you want, puts more pressure on your clit and lets you guide his cock inside you.

“Star,” he says softly, moving a hand up to cup your cheek. “Because you burn.”

You do burn, you burn inside and out and you want to tell him that you burn for him but he sticks his thumb in your mouth, presses down on your tongue just how you like and all you can do is moan around it.

He keeps his other thumb positioned just right so that you can rock against his hand and lift your ass so that his cock slides against your g-spot and you suck on his thumb until he hisses and bucks beneath you, moving so that you can lean down and kiss him hard, brace your hands on either side of him so that you can get more traction.

You’re sure that you’ll be sore in the morning, ever since you’ve met him (in this lifetime, at least) you’ve been in some type of bittersweet pain, an ache across your throat, soreness in your thighs and hips and ass where you’ve been riding him, a rawness deep inside from too much sex and not enough rest.

There’s never enough, never enough of your sweat misted skin sliding across his, never enough of his hand fisted in your hair, of his cock at the back of your throat, of his fingers hooked inside you. The past couple of weeks you’ve only left his apartment for work and a few changes of clothes (not that you wore them much, anyway).

It makes you feel more sane, knowing that you’ve wanted him this way in other lifetimes, makes you feel like the way you feel makes more sense, because you were beginning to think you were going crazy.

It isn’t as if he’s some kind of sex god, exactly, he just seems to know exactly what you like, exactly what you want, right away. That makes a kind of sense, now, how even when you’re on top he knows exactly what to do and say to get you to tip over the edge.

“I love the way you look like this,” he rasps, looking up at you as if maybe you are a star exploding and it isn’t just some nickname he gave you in Rome. “You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You cry out his name, throwing your head back when you cum and he palms his hands across your breasts and the stimulation across your nipples sends an aftershock through you right after. You’re like a ragdoll for a few moments after your orgasm and he shifts you around just like one, using you to get off and you kiss and kiss and kiss him, loving the way it feels when he spills inside you.

You say it then, maybe because he said it to you first or maybe just because your heart is full to bursting with it.

“I love you.” It’s almost defiant. “I love you, and I don’t want to love anyone else.”

He strokes your cheek where you’re still lying on top of him.

“I don’t know if we get a choice, stellina.”

There’s always questions when you find out, and Baekhyun is prepared for them. There’s often questions that hurt, somewhere deep in his bones, questions you’d asked over and over again.

Sometimes you’re curious about your other perfect matches, and that stings. Sometimes you want to know about your deaths, and those are hard memories to bring to the surface.

The question that always hurts the most, though, is the one you ask after you’ve both showered, lying sated and exhausted in his bed, the curtains blacking out the sun outside.

“Did we ever have children?”

You’re rubbing your stomach and there’s something caught in his throat and he has to cough to clear it.

“We didn’t. You did. Sometimes.”

You look up at him and frown. “With my true match?”

Baekhyun heaves a sigh so deep it hurts his chest. “With him, yes.”

You pause. “Was it the same guy? Same… soul, I guess?”

Baekhyun nods slowly, his heart sinking, but you don’t ask anything more, you just lie your head on his shoulder.

He wonders what you’re thinking, wonders where it branches off from here. He’s been here so many times before. He feels more tired than he should.

But instead of asking more questions or storming out crying or any of the things you’d done after you’d found out, you start to snore softly, curled up next to him.

Baekhyun wonders idly if he’ll be able to sleep, but he’s drifting off before he’s even completed the thought.

When he wakes, you’re gone, and he scrambles out of bed in his boxers to pace around the house. He can feel you aren’t around and it’s like a hole in his chest. It’s always been that way, he knows when you’re close and when you’re not, and you must be miles away because now, there’s nothing.

When he checks his phone you’ve texted that you’ll be back with food. He’s shocked that it’s nearly noon, it hadn’t even been sunset when he’d dozed off.

Perhaps immortals can be just as bone tired as mortals, sometimes. After a dozen lifetimes of fighting, he doesn’t know why he’s surprised.

He waits for you, sitting on the couch and idly flipping through the channels, and he thinks about when it all ends. His father had moved on, had no one worshipping his name anymore, and it isn’t as if school children are learning much about Eros, Cupid relegated to only one day out of a year with awful sour sweet candy and paper mache hearts. He’s stored his bow a few hundred miles away, hoping that this lifetime he wouldn’t need it, hadn’t actually found a true match for anyone but you in centuries.

Baekhyun wonders, with no real sense of urgency or fear, if this is the last lifetime. There’s a kind of exhaustion he’s never felt before that seems to weigh him down, and he’s finding it hard to care about anything but you. He hopes it happens before you pass, before the curse ends your life too young and too violently. He wants to move on and set you free, because he knows he can’t resist you for more than a couple of lifetimes. He’s tried too many times and failed.

You return bright eyed and with half a dozen books and a notebook, a pen pinched between your teeth.

At your urging he goes out to the car and brings in the breakfast you’d bought and you spread your books across the table.

“Greek and Roman Mythology for Dummies.” He reads aloud, laughing, and you look up at him from the floor and frown.

“Don’t judge me, this is all new to me.”

He holds up his hands. “Not judging. What’s all this for?”

“I’m going to find a way to end the curse, of course.”

Baekhyun sits down hard on the couch. “Oh.”

“What does that mean?” You demand, your nose scrunching up just a little.

He can’t help but smile at you, and he shrugs.

No reason to shoot down your hopes. Not yet, at least.

Four hours later, your eyes red rimmed from staring at books and your laptop screen, you jump onto the couch and into his lap.

“I found it!” You screech, and kiss all over his face.

Baekhyun smiles, kisses you back, and you make love there on the couch. You want to be bent over, his hand on the small of your back to keep you over the couch arm, up on your tiptoes and making a little grunting noise every time he thrusts into you.

Baekhyun may be exhausted after all this time but he never gets tired of this. He never gets tired of you.

Your moans are muffled in the couch cushions but he hears his name, the one he always uses with you, ever since you were Angelica and that hunter’s arrow had pinned you to the ground.

Baekhyun is tired. He’s tired in a way he’s sure no human ever could be. He’s tired of all the times he’s lost you, to your true match and then worse, to death, and he’s tired of living them over and over again.

But when you stand up, twist his face to kiss him, your eyes bright when you grin against his mouth, he thinks that it’s all been worth it.

You’re always worth it, and the thought of getting to meet you again, another you, is all it takes for him to keep going.

It takes a few months to get the time off work, match up travel plans, and get supplies.

Supplies meaning mostly travel gear and light clothes and a passport, the place you need to get to is high up on a cliffside in Northern Greece.

Baekhyun’s supportive enough, you guess, but you feel a bit nervous about his lack of excitement when you’re finally there, in Greece, at a gorgeous resort near the cliffside. Money hadn’t been a problem. Apparently when you’re immortal you manage to accrue a bit of savings.

“Aren’t you happy? Doesn’t this feel like home?”

Baekhyun laughs, loud and open, for what seems like the first time since you’d found out.

“This isn’t my home, stellina. I’m older than Greece.’

You blink, shocked. “But you are Eros.”

He nods. “I’m Eros, and Cupid, and Ishtar, and Kuni. Many gods and goddesses, different names. My duty and purpose was always the same, but I’ve never had a home. Except with you.”

He brushes your cheek with his nose and you sigh, hate that the way he says that so simply, as if it’s the whole truth, makes your heart clench.

“Still, you remember being here.”

Baekyun nods, staring out at the sea, reliving some life you only half remember.

You don’t ask many more questions, at least not until the next day when Baekhyun is listlessly pulling on his clothes and you’re tugging at his hands, excited, wanting to hurry and have this curse looming over your head end, so that you can stop thinking about it.

“Why aren’t you happier about this?” You pout, but you quiet when he looks up at you, his usually warm brown eyes dull and exhausted.

“You haven’t been sleeping?” You ask, softer now.

Baekhyun shrugs. “Some.”

Then he grins at you and there’s a flicker of life in his eyes. “I’m a very old man, you know. I need my rest.”

It makes you laugh, makes you forget, and you don’t think of it again until you’re hiking up the trail, about an hour’s long journey to reach the top.

He’s behind you by a few hundred feet and you frown at him, waiting until he reaches you. You’ve never seen him out of breath.

You take his hand, tug him further up the trail but it’s only a few moments before he stops, bracing himself on a tree near the trail.

“Stop,” he wheezes, and you do, tilting your head at him in confusion.

“Baekhyun, we have to-”

“Just stop,” He insists, and you’d think he was angry if his voice weren’t shaking.

“Why? What’s wrong? What aren’t you telling me?” You fire off at him, moving closer, and he shakes his head.

You take his chin in your hand and force him to look at you.

His brown eyes are still as tired as earlier, and wet now, too.

“I don’t want to do this again,” he manages hoarsely.

You take a step back. “Have we done this before? Have we been here before?”

Baekhyun doesn’t answer, but there’s a truth in his silence.

Your eyes begin to well with tears. “So what? Maybe this time it’ll work, maybe this is different-”

“It’s not different. In France you were called Jacqueline and we came here. You read books about it, forced me here just like you did this time. You were so certain it had worked.”

You shake your head but he keeps talking.

“You were so certain that after a couple of months, I was certain too. Three months later, there was a bus accident.” His voice breaks and he’s quiet again and you feel like you can’t breathe properly for the ache in your throat.

“We don’t know that will happen again.”

“I know!” He bursts out. “I know it will happen because it does, over and over again! Listen, we should go back to the hotel. I can get my bow out of storage and-”

“No!” You cry, stalking over to him. “No, that’s not the way to fix this.”

Baekhyun laughs bitterly, and he won’t look at you. “There’s no way to fix this.”

“You don’t know that,” you say stubbornly. “Whoever I’ve been in the past, I’ve never been this person, and I know I can fix it.”

He pushes himself away from the tree as if it takes effort to do it. “You always say that,” he says, and he doesn’t sound angry anymore, just tired.

You’re angry, heat rushing through your veins, and you don’t know if it’s at him or the fact that some ancient curse has decided to come through your life like a brushfire.

You push at him and he doesn’t fight back, doesn’t even keep you from pushing him against the tree.

“You don’t care, is that it? You’re what, bored of this? You want to get your bow so you can get rid of me?”

His jaw tightens and he looks away from you. “Maybe I do.”

You push him again and he has nowhere to go, backed up against the tree so he just takes it, stands there.

“Coward.” You spit. “You’d rather match me with someone else. You’d rather let someone else-”

“Stop it,” he says, something like a warning in his voice and you want to laugh or cry or both.

“Look at you. You can’t even hear me say it, but you’re going to marry me off like some 14th century child bride-”

“I’m not-” Baekhyun huffs, then stops, runs his hand through his hair. “He’s your true match. You… you always love him, when you meet him.” He struggles with the last sentence but he maintains eye contact, jaw working.

“Fuck my true match. And fuck you if that’s your answer to this.” You rage.

He doesn’t speak. “You’re always happy when you find him.” His voice is weak and it sounds like a weak excuse to your ears and you’re shaking with anger and fear.

You have this memory, sudden and sharp like a knife.

You're in this stone room, an inn you think, and you're half asleep but you can hear a low murmur from the room. It's familiar, from your traveling companion of the last few weeks.

His name is on your lips as you sit up but he's pacing around the room, not paying any attention to you. The way he's talking to himself makes you worried.

"You have to do this. You have to, you know you do," he mutters and there's something liquid in his voice.

Suddenly he slaps himself across the face and you yelp his name, stand up to take his wrist in your hand.

"Baekhyun," you whisper. "What are you doing?"

His face is flushed and his eyes look so tired, so worn, like he's lived a thousand years.

"I'm sorry I woke you," he manages, pulling away from your touch as if you'd burn him.

A few days later, his hands are shaking when he draws his bow, and your eyes are on him instead of your true match.

"Wh-what if you miss?" You whisper.

Baekhyun smiles but he won't look at you. "I don't miss."

He doesn't, but part of you wishes he had.

The memory just makes you angrier, makes you want to push him again.

“Am I? And what about you? What about you, Baek, are you happy without me? Are you happy giving me away?”

He scoffs, finally looking at you.

“No, really. Tell me. You must be happy giving me away because you want to do it so badly-”

“I hate it!” He bursts out. “I fucking hate it, every single time. I hate the way you look at him. I even hate how happy he makes you. I should be happy giving you away so that you can be safe, so that you can have the family that you want, but I fucking hate it.”

“Why do you hate it?” You demand to know, tears streaming down your face.

“You know-” he starts and you shake your head.

“I need you to tell me.”

Baekhyun puffs out his cheeks, he does that when he’s frustrated, when he wants to scream but you don’t have time to think about how cute it is right now.

“I hate it because I love you. I hate it because whoever your true match is, you’re mine.” He says, finally, heaving in a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

“Because I’m yours,” you parrot back at him, and his mouth opens, brows furrowed in a frown.

He takes a step toward you, now, but you don’t back away, and you don’t flinch when he takes your hips in his hands, tugs you toward him, claiming your mouth.

You claw at him, can’t help yourself and you don’t care that brambles are scratching your legs when he lies you down on the ground, don’t care because he’s panting your name into your ear, your name, not all those previous yous. You don’t care because you’ve chosen him, despite whatever the gods had determined to be your “true match.”

“We have to do this,” you tell him as you’re adjusting your clothes and he’s still lying there, panting.

He nods, as if humoring you, but he isn’t as listless when he starts back up the trail with you, keeping up with you and stealing kisses and making small talk.

You’re sweating by the time the two of you reach the top of the mountain, and when you look back, Baekhyun has fallen behind a bit, struggling up the hill.

You startle when thunder cracks overhead, sudden and close, but you walk back down the path to him, put your hand on his arm and he’s trembling.

“We’ve never made it this far,” he says, voice hoarse. “I don’t know what will happen next.”

“We don’t ever know what happens next, Baekhyun, but you know what happens when we don’t.”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “Not if you let me get my arrows, we can stop all of this, we can-”

“No!” You yell. “No, shut up about that, I can make my own choices!”

You tug on his arm and he stumbles forward only a few steps before stopping again and you can see the circle of stones at the top of the hill, where you’re supposed to stand according to the legends, and you haven’t done weeks of research and travelled across the world for nothing.

You take his hand in yours, squeeze, and look into his eyes.

“It’s okay,” you promise, and you have no idea what’s about to happen and it’s raining now, cold against your skin, but you know that you have to do this.

Baekhyun looks at you and there’s nothing in his eyes but fear and uncertainty but you tug at his hand again anyway and this time he follows without resistance.

It happens so quickly after that.

You step into the circle first, and he pauses, hesitating before breaking the barrier by stepping over one of the irregular stones. The second he does, lightning cracks above your head and you cry out, frightened.

Baekhyun grabs you out of instinct or some desire to protect you and you go down, scraping your elbows against the rock and sand as you try to catch yourself. Baekhyun puts his hands on either side of your head and it’s raining so hard that it’s all you can hear, that and the thunder, and there’s lightning everywhere, lighting up his features as he looks down at you.

“I was never strong enough to do this before,” he says, nearly yelling over the storm. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t-”

He’s cut off by another crack of lightning and he seems to be… lighting up, somehow, some glow that you think is from the lightning but then you see it’s coming from inside him. He arches his back, his face lined with pain and you realize something’s happening, something bad but when you reach up to touch him, he’s giving off so much heat that the tips of your fingers burn.

“Baek,” you whisper, and he manages to focus on you again. When he does, his face… it isn’t his face, but somehow you recognize it anyway and it keeps changing, cycling through all the lifetimes you’ve shared together.

“I’ve been so many things,” he says, and his voice is strong even over the chaos. “but I’ve always been yours.”

He manages to touch his forehead to yours and you’re terrified by the storm and what’s happening and especially how it seems to pain him to even move, how he’s glowing brighter and brighter until your eyes start watering.

He says your name but it’s your name and Jacqueline and Eva and Yui and so many others, all wrapped into one, and kisses you, the bright light coming from him forcing your eyes shut as he gets closer.

When you open them, there’s no sound of the rain or thunder and the ground under you is dry, as if you’d imagined it all.

But you can taste the rainwater in your mouth. You can still taste him there, too, but he’s gone.

You scramble up, yelling out his name and there’s nothing, just the sound of the birds in the trees. Moments before, the sky had been black, but now it’s sunny again.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you feel the tears running down your throat as you stumble down the path.

You’re sobbing by the bottom of the path because there’s nothing, no evidence he was even there at all. You’re remembering what he said, how he said you’d never been that far before, but you’re wondering if he’d known, anyway.

You’re wondering if breaking the curse means that he has to die and how all of this is your fault your fault your fault.

There’s a sound in the woods and you barely realize it until there’s a man standing next to you.

“Miss? Are you all right?”

You sniffle, looking up at him, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s Baekhyun, just the same, wearing the wet and sandy clothes he’d been wearing just a few moments ago, but something’s wrong and you can’t rush to him like you want to.

“Baekhyun?”

He rubs the back of his neck, smiles a little sheepishly. “Is that my name? I seem to have forgotten it. I think… I think I got lost.”

You think about how this feels, how there’s not a single light of recognition in his eyes and it feels like your chest has cracked wide open. You think about how he must have felt this, over and over again, and understand why he didn’t want you to have to feel it.

You take a deep, shaky breath and wipe at your eyes with the heels of your hands.

“You’re not lost,” you tell him, and take his hand.

Baekhyun looks down at your hand in his and then back up to you, a smile breaking across his face. “No, doesn’t seem like it anymore.”

You’re trying not to cry as you lead him back to the resort when he stops and you turn back to look at him.

“I know this might seem like an odd question, but… have we met before?”

It hurts but you crack a smile anyway, remembering how he’d done this for you over and over, remembering what he’d said to you a few months ago.

“Maybe in another life.”

#supermnet #noonasinnetwork #byun baekhyun x reader #baekhyun x reader #super m imagine #exo imagone #baekhyun imagine

[zoe-oneesama]

Okay, semi-serious question! What would each member of Miss Bustier's class in the Scarlet!AU, including Lila, dress up as for Halloween?

Well I think my ideas would probably apply to canon. And obviously I know France doesn’t really do Halloween (at least not how America does), so we’re gonna just retcon reality and pretend Halloween is a common thing to these kids, so basically:

Marinette: A character costume. From a cartoon or movie or game, whatever it is she’s handmaking and handstyling all of it and is scouring the internet to make sure every detail is 100% canon accurate. Every year she tries to outdo herself by getting more and more intricate characters. Year 1 - Princess Peach Paper Mario version. Year 5 - Princess Peach Smash Bros verison.

Adrien: It’s the first year he gets to participate and it’s not some bougie adult wine drinking party, so he either goes for a visual pun (sticking a bunch of beige paint swatches to himself to be 50 Shades of Grey) or goes super basic royalty free costume, like A Vampire or A Devil. If he has a partner he’d totally go couples costumes, but who decides the costumes depends on the partner. (Marinette would totally bow to his whims but Kagami would reel him in)

Alya: She’s been in different store bought Majestia costumes since she was old enough to call the shots. Only this year is she going for Hometown Heroes, but she’s completely caught between who to choose - Ladybug because obviously, or Carapace because her boyfriend, or Rena Rouge because it’s hilarious?! So many options!!!

Nino: He’s never gotten super into it but keeps it alive for Chris. Typically he’ll pull together a “closet costume”, like pulling out the plaid button up and sticking some straw out of the pockets to be a scarecrow. Going to parties with Alya makes him want to try a little harder this year so he’ll probably actually buy a full costume this year to go with whatever she decides to be (”Wait, you’re gonna dress as me this year?!”)

Canon Chloe: She’s worn her Ladybug costume a few too many times in public, so she’ll probably go for Queen Bee but with a twist - like a full ballgown princess but Queen Bee themed. It’s super expensive decorated with real rhinestones, as are all the costumes she’s had in the past because she’s in a personal competition with Marinette. It kills her that Marinette always gets way more compliments on her costumes. 

SL Chloe: Same as above but Scarlet Lady themed. She’s at least smart enough to forgo the mask and demands pockets to shove Tikki into.

Canon Sabrina: In order to match Chloe but not outshine her, Sabrina is ordered to be a bee (to be Queen Bee’s “Pollen”, though Sabrina doesn’t know what that means). She’s an adorabee and her outfit is also pretty expensive because it was commissioned by Chloe, but that also means Sabrina got zero input on it. 

SL Sabrina: It’s the first time Sabrina hasn’t relied on Chloe to “make” her costume (or rather DECIDE her costume) and all the independence has Sabrina scrambling a bit. In the end, by borrowing some of her dad’s old things, she dresses as a Cutie Cop complete with a too big hat and handcuffs she has to SWEAR not to use.

Max: With some carefully painted cardboard and foam, he’s one of the bots from UMS III. Despite the crudeness of the costume, it is also meticulously model accurate, and also very difficult to move in.

Kim: 100% one of those inflatable T Rex costumes.

Alix: She’d probably wear her regular clothes but invest in a high quality wolf mask and hands and sneak up on people all night.

Nathaniel: He’d have to prepare months in advance but he’d show up as Super Nathan. He skips on the face paint but considering it’s his OC and he still draws it in his comic, I think he’s not emotionally tainted by being an akuma and it’s own little “Fuck You” to Hawkmoth. Plus it makes Chloe stay 10000 miles away from him. 

Mylene: Mylene walks into a costume shop with no plan, wanting to be taken in by how a costume looks and feels on her. Because of that she has an eclectic background and no one ever knows what she’s going to come as. Last year she was a racoon because the costume dress had ears on the hoodie, but maybe this year she comes as a Mad Hatter because the costume came with a lot of pieces. Who knows?!

Ivan: He knows he’s going to avoid anything with a mask if he wants his girlfriend to come near him. That does knock off a lot of his favorite horror characters, so he goes an Adrien route and shows up as A Ninja. Yep. Definitely not a video game character, noooo, this is TOTALLY just A Ninja. Uhuh.

Rose: Unicorn Princess. With wings. And a tiara. And A wand. And a tail. And rainbow chalk in her hair. And stickers. 

Juleka: She’s a witch, but not a store bought cute short skirt one. Like a voodoo hag that dragged herself out of the swamp to curse mankind. She’s basically one every year so she just adds onto her costume and every year her witch costume just increases in collectables. Vials around her waist and a fake crow on her hat, a spell book appeared one year, and spider webs draped over her shoulders. Uh, are you sure that’s just a costume Juleka?

Canon Lila: She doesn’t care much about the actual costume but takes a lot of care making sure it’s juuuuuust towing the line between cute and sexy. It needs to be attention getting but not bad attention. She goes for slightly childish characters, like Little Red Riding Hood, so she can get away with saying she thought it was “just adorable!” when she knows it’s showing her off. If I wanted her to be even cheekier, I’d have her find a “Sexy” Rena Rouge costume that’s pretty much Rena Rouge but in a skirt, and watch Alya convulse.

SL Lila: Drop the act and just admit she likes feeling sexy. Her friends help her find costumes that are age appropriate but scratch that itch and Lila puts more thought into the actual character. She gets a new appreciation for merging horror with pretty stuff - like a Zombie Cheerleader or Elsa but with ice coming out of her skin. It also lets her stretch her makeup skills. 

#on the lila thing I just wanna say that I used to have that embarrassing 'i wanna be a sexy grown up' phase #so that's where I'm coming from with that logic #halloween #my opinion #halloween costumes #ml #miraculous ladybug #crisisdparity

[infectedpaul]

You Matter To Me (Squip/Reader)

You've had your Squip for a bit now and it's been fine for the most part, until he brings up the idea of looking into romantic relationships with others which opens up a lot of wounds you wanted to just bury deep and forget about. But you can't begin the road to recovery without asking why you got there, right?

SO IVE NEVER....WRITTEN AN X READER B4 UGH HJKSAJDASKDJSA esp not for a near dead fandom OH WELL oh well oh well h ignore this my normal followers please please

(warning 4 talks of depression/self degrading talk, its hurt comfort yada yada i need 2 touch grass ik)

ao3 link if u prefer that!!

You weren't made for love, at least, you didn't think so.

For as long as you'd been looking for it, it was always so out of reach. Easily visible, sure. Walking past groups of friends laughing it up on the sidewalks, partners entangled in each other's arms, seemingly trying to make their love known for all. But for you to have any of that for yourself? The heat death of the universe would sooner come, surely.

You'd sort of given up on it. It would be nice, you'd think. To be held, wrapped up in someone's arms, and just to stay there for as long as either of you could want. That cozy, warm feeling of being with someone that you only saw in movies or read about in books. But you had just accepted it wasn't in the cards, so to speak. And you were fine with that.

Well, you told yourself anyway. You knew it was for a deeper reason, though, but that wasn't something you liked to think about too heavily.

It was easier to do that when you didn't have a roommate that could dig into your brain and pry every little detail about them out of you.

When you got your Squip, you didn't know it'd be so adamant about perfecting every little last thing you were. How long or short your hair was styled, if your shoes matched your eyes, how fast or slow you were walking and how too brisk would make you seem like you were constipated but too slow and your likelihood of getting run over by a horse-drawn carriage gone would go up much higher, nevermind that you've never even seen a horse in real life.

What you did know, by now at least was that the Squip was persistent, seeing himself as your guardian angel, a guiding light in your desolate dark world of humanity, ickiness and week old pizza boxes you were too unmotivated to at least move off the bed.

So when his ideal response wasn't given when he proposed seeking out a lovelife, he was...well,

"I'm not sure I understand." His head crooked to the side, puzzled by your surface level indifference, "You're of consenting age, marginally attractive and only slightly under average at socializing. Finding a mate can't be too hard."

His holographic form hummed a soft, near silent buzz, a small imperfection to his otherwise flawless binary makeup. Other than that, and the soft, tinted blue glow around his form, he looked completely human. A little too human, really. Something so real, realer than any CG or video game, but something was just...off, something from the uncanny valley. You hadn't kept him in this form long, you liked to change it up from time to time, maybe to trick yourself into thinking he was someone new, making your brain think you had more friends besides the computer you bought behind a Rack Room.

You didn't look at him though when you responded, too preoccupied with the paper in front of you, decorated with a few characters concocted from your imagination. "I dunno," you shrug, brushing off eraser marks, "Just not my thing, I guess." You could feel his confusion, a bit of gut feeling as his thoughts jumbled in with your own. He was really only in your brain, afterall; the figure behind you sitting on your bed was just something he made up to ease your brain into trusting a new, larger source of perpetually growing information. "But, the purpose of this time in your life is to mate and birth young, is it not?"

You really wished he'd learn to stop talking about you and 'the homo sapien species' like you were a mindless ape made to breed and nothing else.

"Uh, I mean not really. I know that's what everyone around me is doing," Your mind thought back to all the cringey baby announcement videos from kids you knew in high school, "But it's...I guess I'm just not up for it. It's not really for people like me."

He was quiet. Only for a second, before he asked,

"People like you?" Another silence hung in the air. It was a truth you knew he could easily just reach into your brain and find for himself so you kept quiet for a bit longer, waiting for him to start digging. But you didn't feel it, that very familiar sudden ache in the back of your head you got when he went poking around for more things to nag at you about. Just quiet in your room, only the soft buzz and birds tweeting outside your window any solace from the uncomfortable silence you felt.

You shrugged again, and turned to face him, seeing now the muddled and a little concerned look on his face. "You know? The quiet ones, the losers. People like me don't get to be loved. I've just accepted that." You could have said a lot worse, and it seemed like he knew that. You didn't really understand, either. You didn't like yourself, plain and simple.

His concern only seemed to grow, eyebrows furrowing and staring intently at you. You thought for a second, maybe it was anger. It wouldn't be the first time. You were mostly compliant to his (mandatory) suggestions for life improvement, but every once in a while he would propose an idea that you would fight about, like clothes you weren't comfortable wearing for one reason or another. He said he was a learning computer, so he would need your help on things like emotions and comfiness, physical or mental, ruling out whatever the newest trends were. He would be fine afterwards but, he could get pretty huffy about you trying on too skinny-skinny jeans.

But that didn't happen, there wasn't a small but fierce jolt of electricity in your back to stop you from going against 'social programming', as he called it. He just looked at you a bit longer, seemingly turning gears in his head as he tried to process what you're saying.

You gave him a sober smile, trying to still seem indifferent, though for a second you wondered maybe if he was still prying at you, in a different way at least, because if he was, it seemed to be working.

"What? I'm just not that special. You of all people know that, right?" It was almost like you weren't hearing what was coming out of your mouth, that casual self-degradation that almost frightened him. You heard stories from message boards about that, older models of the Squip forcing reprogramming onto the host by breaking down their emotional state with verbal or physical punishment for...just existing, really.

He wasn't really like that though. Yes he could be annoyed when you didn't comply, but you were both good at compromise and treated situations like adults, even if at first you weren't much motivated to treat any situation at all. He informed you while you were looking through those boards that his creators had taken in accounts of previous incidents and built more of a guide to self-improvement than a ball and chain with a backhand. Humans were fragile, he knew that, and it wasn't okay to hurt them just to get a little closer to their goal.

But maybe, did he not think that humans were more than capable of hurting themselves? Their own words used against them, their internal voices bashing against their brains, turning them to mush and making them too scared or unmotivated to build it back up again.

"I just know no one would love some useless, pitiful person...I just kinda got over that a while ago." You almost frightened him with how nonchalant you were about the whole thing. It wasn't intentional, you weren't trying to seek attention or be funny. You just knew there was plenty of other people out there worthy of all that lovey-dovey stuff you thought would be nice but...it's just not meant for you.

There was a knot in his voice as he finally spoke up,

"That's why I'm here, isn't it?" The last piece of the puzzle had finally clicked into place, but he didn't look satisfied, not that cheeky, self-centered chagrin when things went his way or when he was proven right yet again.

You thought he knew that. You thought from day one he just figured that out and that's why he's been trying so hard to make you into a model citizen or something. "Did you just think you were here to help me pick out clothes in the morning?" You laughed, he seemed to know it was forced.

"Well...y-yes, maybe. I just...I never looked into that possibility of…" He was regaining his composure; this was a side you've never seen of him before. He's always been so astute, robotic and to the point. He's never fumbled over his words or had to give himself a second to figure out what to say next.

"How long has it been like this, Y/N?" His hands were folded neatly on his lap, still looking you dead-on, waiting for you to answer his distressed queuerie with worried patience.

You got up out of your chair, pushing it back and behind you to step away from the table and your drawings. "I dunno," you said, taking a few steps towards the long mirror hung on your wall, "for as long as I can remember, I guess." You looked at your reflection, only tired, dark eyes looking back at you. Even though the edge of the bed was visible in the mirror, your Squip didn't show up in it, another reminder of just how alone you were outside of your head.

"I just started to feel like I didn't belong more and more and...that ate me up so much I just started believing in it. I-I didn't wanna go to school or talk to people or even get up 'cause...well," You turned away from the mirror before you could see the tears you'd been holding back, looking at the more distressed figure in view of you again, "what would anyone be missing, really?" You still smiled, that big smile you both worked so meticulously on making seem not too forced when you had to act excited or just blend into normal social gatherings, but it wavered so easily, like a thin strip of paper about to tear off the nail that barely held it up on the wall.

His eyes widened at the sight of your tears, immediately getting up and briskly walking to stand in front of you, not knowing how to proceed in the moment. He hadn't had to deal with something like this yet and he was troubleshooting to see what was the correct response to a human breakdown.

You looked down, covering your eyes with one hand and clenching the other into a fist, big, strained smile still plastered on your face and trying so hard not to seem more weak than you knew you were. You were nothing. You knew that, you thought he did too. You thought you could just fix things, but how could you do that without getting to the source? You knew you couldn't just sidestep around why you wanted things to get better with humans, but with a computer who could read your brain like the newspaper, you thought maybe you could get around that.

You heard him sigh before a feeling of arms wrapping around you caught you off guard, the Squip entangling you in his grasp and his head resting on yours. It was all simulated, you knew. He had done things such as lightly punch your arm as if to say 'Good job, Sport!' or tap your shoulder to grab your attention without startling you, but this was different. He held onto you for a good couple of seconds, a wave of warmth spreading through your body in an instant. He pet back your hair with one hand, rubbing your back with the other and finally broke the silence in the room.

"Y/N, it- ...it pains me, hearing you speak that way about yourself. You're…" He looked down at you, holding you a bit closer and tightening his grip just a tad. "You're an incredible, talented, wonderful person. You've come so far and you've taught me so much about humans and myself and I just couldn't ask for a better-" He stopped. You knew what he was going to say, a better host, a better human, a better assignment to help and guide and-

"A better friend."

A friend?

He never referred to you or anyone with such a personal or affectionate term. It almost didn't seem real, like you maybe misheard him. Your smile had shattered into a small frown and, with teary-eyes and your voice already cracking, you looked up at him, meeting his almost-heartbroken eyes in an expression that looked so foreign on his normally composed face.

"What?"

He gave a weak smile, trying to be comforting but his fear showing plain as day. You could feel it within you too, a pit in your stomach forming as your chest tightened. You knew it wasn't your anxiety, but his.

"Do I need to repeat myself, Y/N? I think of you as a friend and..." His hand moved off of your back and ran itself up to rest on your shoulder, the other holding your cheek and wiping away your tears with his thumb. "I want to do all I can to show you that from here on."

You almost couldn't breathe as you looked at him, feeling for the first time that unconditional love you yearned for. You could feel your heart race in your chest, something you knew he could feel too but you were too crushed to say anything. You simply slammed yourself into his chest, grabbing fistfulls of his shirt that made your hands tingle like they fell asleep. His arms enveloped you yet again, the both of you holding onto each other so tight like either of you would fall through the floor if you let go.

You sobbed and sobbed and sobbed for what felt like hours, and, just maybe, you thought you could hear him crying too, but that'd be silly...right?

When you were finally out of tears to cry, you stood there still, simply bathing in each other's presence, the feeling you only saw in others finally yours. And you knew it was only a matter of time before this too was stolen from you, the universe would take back anything from people unworthy but...for right now, you wanted to be a little selfish.

"I'm sorry." You whispered, face still buried in his shirt.

"For?" His head was rested on yours again, holding up your weak and tired form with no effort, just trying to keep you propped up until you were ready to let go.

"I got you to help me but...I can't even let you in like I'm supposed to. But...I want to. I just want help." You pushed yourself off of him, one thought between you and him and his hands meeting yours, the simulated tingle in there again as you held each other's palms in yours and looked at each other with such exhausted eyes and worn-out but so genuine smiles.

He leaned down and planted a kiss on your forehead, a soft hue of pink blush spreading on your drained and exhausted face.

"I'd love to help, friend."

#dex says things #THE FUCK AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE FLDSJFKLDSFDS #THE WORST PART IS IM PROUD OF THIS UGH #be more chill #the squip #squip x reader #my writing #ITS 530 AM UGH

[sugurugetofavoritemonkey]

Tulip (Jean Kirstein x Reader)

✵ Pairing : Jean Kirstein x Female Reader.

✵ Summary : Jean works at a flower shop and you’re a drawer that comes in his shop to practice drawing flowers.

✵ Word count : 1.5k

✵ Warnings : just fluff, (and my bad writing)

✵ Note : I was inspired by a prompt by : @dailyau​ (which I changed a little).

Jean deserves all the love in the world.

ENJOY <3

It all started a few months ago, during summer if you correctly remember. 

You've found a cute flower shop down your street, you needed to practice at drawing flowers, and what better place than this one to succeed? 

The thing you didn’t expect was that the boy selling the flowers would be as cute as his shop. 

You were searching for different kinds of flowers, taking pictures of the ones you would practise on later, when a sweet voice woke you up from your daydream. 

“Hi miss, can I know why you’re taking so many pictures? Flowers are meant to be observed in real time and taking care of, in my opinion”, the tall man  trushfully smiled, his voice full of curiosity, in no way wanting to be rude. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you, sir, I just need some models to train my skills to draw all types of flowers”, you were beginning to feel your cheeks turning warm from embarrassment. 

“No no no no, don’t worry, you don’t bother me at all, I was just curious that’s all”, it was his turn to blush, his head looking to the side. 

He adds, “You know, hum, you could maybe just take a sit and draw them right here, if you want of course. It won’t bother me and seeing that I just opened my shop, it will keep me company. People have lost a bit of interest about flowers these days, so it’s always welcomed to see people like you appreciating their beauty... and oh my god I talk too much, I’m sorry…”, he nervously giggle, while rubbing the back of his neck where a little mullet was starting to grow.  

His shyness made you slightly smile and you had to admit that his sweetness was more than welcomed. 

“Of course I would love to, it would be a pleasure to share a mutual hobby, I promise I won’t disturb your business, hum..”, at the pause he quickly caught on, raising his head to look at you with a little smirk, “Jean, and can I know your name too?”, he tilted his head to the side, “I’m sure your name is as beautiful as all the flowers gathered here”. 

When you answered him with a light stutter, clearly getting shy from his compliment, he smiled while repeating at loud your name, two times actually, trying to remember it clearly in his mind. 

“Well now you’re welcome here whenever you want, what’s the flower you want to draw first?”, he said, stars in his eyes as if you could ask for the rarest flower in the world and he would get it for you no matter what. 

“A tulip” 

And that’s when everything began between the two of you. 

After your first encounter, you saw Jean again at least one time per week. 

At first it was maybe just for the drawings but the more the days passed and the more you thought that maybe the flowers weren't the first reason anymore, almost becoming an excuse to see something else, well somebody else. 

During your little encounters, Jean would bring you a cup of tea, saying that “artists can’t work well without a nice tea”, making you smile at his kind words. 

You two would also talk a lot, while you draw your flower on a table just besides Jean’s counter who was waiting on his chair for clients, sometimes, or more like often, he would glance at you, admiring your focused expression while you were busy with your pen. 

Exactly like right now. 

You had come again to his flower shop to seek some flower model, but was it really the only thing you were seeking while going to him? 

This question popped in your head more times than you could count these days. 

When you entered his shop, Jean and you had gaze into each other's eyes for a little more longer than usual, when you broke the bond between your gazes, feeling your shyness starting to show a little, you heard Jean asked you the same question than every week. 

“Which flower do you want to draw this time?”, with his teasing smile and sweet voice. 

“A tulip, please Jean”. 

Your answer made him let out a little laugh, almost like a whisper, your mouth started to open to ask him what was so funny, when he cut you off. 

“I knew you would say that, they’re your favorites, I’m sure of it because you draw them at least one time per month, if not more. That’s why I put the prettier of them aside for you”. 

His little disclosure took you by surprise, and you started to feel little butterflies flying down your stomach. As he got in the backroom of his shop, you couldn't stop your eyes from looking at him, still processing the fact that he noticed your favorite flower and on top of that, he also put one aside for you. You already knew that Jean was full of kindness but that little gesture was more than appreciated from your side. 

He got back to you, the purple tulip in his big hand, holding it like he could break it, similar to the most precious glass in the universe. The flower was indeed very pretty, almost perfect. Every one of her petals was intact, her deep shade of a pinkish purple shining.

 When he handed you the flower, his fingers brushing against yours while looking deep into your eyes, it was like earlier, when you entered his shop. 

Like the time had stopped, and it was just the two of you. 

Eventually, when you were back at your senses and grabbed the flower delicately from his hand, you took place to your usual spot, beginning to take out your paper and pencil, getting to work. While Jean went taking care of his business. 

A few hours had passed. 

And it wasn’t long before Jean walked to you for the second time today. This time with both of his arms behind his back. 

You looked up at him, raising yourself to your feet to look at him better, even though the size difference was still apparent between the two of you. 

The closeness between Jean and you almost felt intimate. 

“Hum, I-I wanted to give you a little something, even though it’s not anything important, I took a lot of pleasure while doing it, here for you”, he handed you a piece of paper with a blush. 

When you took the paper between your fingers and turned it around to look, your heart stopped for a second. It was a drawing portrait of you, and an incredible one to say the least, it was you drawing one of those tulips, your brows furrowed in concentration but still with peaceful features. 

“Y-You did that yourself Jean? I didn’t know you could draw beautifully like this...”, you asked, voice still full of surprise and emotion. 

“Hum, yes I do, I learned alone when I was little but seeing your talent I was a bit afraid of showing you my skills, you really like it? Fuck, I hope you don’t find this creepy”, he started to rub his neck as usual when he was anxious. 

“You’re kidding right? How could I not love this wonderful gift that you made me Jean? I really appreciate it, you have no idea..”

That’s when you started to realize, with a smile on your lips, why he always seemed to hide something when you would search for him at his desk, he had prepared his gift for a long time, making it more appreciable if possible. 

Suddenly aware of your feelings for the man in front of you, you can’t help but put the drawing on the table near you and take Jean’s face between your palms, caressing gently his cheekbones with your thumbs. 

Looking up at him with the most loving gaze, your lips getting closer to his own, you hesitate a moment before asking, voice weak. 

“C-Can I kiss you Jean? Plea-”, the last word seems to die in the pit of your throat when Jean doesn't hesitate to take a gentle hold of your nape and kiss passionately your lips. 

The sensation of your first kiss with Jean could be compared to how he earlier held the purple tulip : with care and love. Even though he was holding you in his embrace delicately, like you were going to break, his love was, however, as strong as a burning flame. 

His kisses only stopped when you were out of breath. And even when Jean’s lips and yours separated from each other, he didn’t let out the hold on your neck, like you were going to disappear in front of his eyes. 

Jean’s gaze still on you, observing your face with attention, he couldn’t hold back the next words from slipping out of his now pinkish mouth due to the kisses you'd shared.

“My precious Tulip”, he smiled at you, like you were the most important flower in his heart.

#jean kirstein #fluff #jean fluff #jean snk #snk fluff #aot fluff #jean kirstein fluff #jean x reader #jean kirstein reader #jean kirstein imagines #attack on titan imagine #jean kirschstein #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein fluff #snk reader #aot reader #jean imagine #jean imagines

[idreamofplaid]

Living a Lie

Summary: Sometimes happiness waits on the other side of pain and misunderstanding.

Characters: Sam x Reader; Dean mentioned

Word Count: 3826

A/N: The expansion of my Masterlist continues. This is another one of my early fics that I’ve revised a little and am reposting. At the time I wrote it, I wanted to explore the effect someone’s looks can have on them wherever they may fall on the spectrum of what is considered conventionally attractive.

READER’S POV

There had been a time Sam picked up girls in bars, not with the frequency Dean had, but he'd done it. Now, he was doing it again. Dean had stopped entirely because he was in love, monogamous, and completely happy. Dean spent his nights sharing a bed with his soul mate. Sam prowled bars, and you hid away, alone, in your room.  

Your heart broke again every time Sam didn't come home. The pain was fresh like it was the first time, like somehow your heart had mended, had rebuilt itself just to be shattered again. A heart in pieces leaves an emptiness in the center of your being, but all the broken shards are still there, the sharp edges piercing you from the inside out. That was how it felt when night fell, and Sam wasn’t in the bunker. You knew where he was and what he was doing.

Those were sleepless nights for you, nights spent hearing Sam's voice in your head.  You'd always been too romantic for your own damn good. How could you be sitting here in the dark, back against your headboard, clutching your pillow tightly to your chest while you cried over the loss of a man you'd never had? He wasn't a man you were going to have. You'd seen pictures of Jessica. You just weren't his type. Sure, you could dye your hair blonde. That still wouldn't make you model gorgeous with a perfect body.  

You were smart, maybe not Stanford smart, but who knows? You might have been if you'd actually studied in high school instead of sitting in the back of class scribbling love poems in your notebooks. You had more than one regret and missed opportunity in your life.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Sam's footsteps coming down the hall.  He had to pass your room to get to his. That's when you got your brilliant idea. You jumped up and flicked on the lights, splashed cold water on your face at the sink, and reached for your makeup bag to erase the evidence of your crying.

Minutes later you were knocking on Sam's door. He opened the door dressed for bed, and you smiled your prettiest for him. "Can I come in?" He opened the door wider giving you room to walk inside and stood with his arm over his head, hand on the door as he leaned against it watching you.  

You took a seat on the end of his bed and waited. Sam closed the door and walked closer to the bed. He was still looking at you with an unspoken question in his green eyes touched with warm honey.

He didn't move any closer, and he didn't say anything. Your broken heart made you bold. "Your night didn't go the way you had planned?"

Sam raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. "Planned?"

"Yeah. You know. You didn't go home with anyone." You looked down as you said it, unable to meet his eyes and say it out loud.

Sam sat down next to you, head bowed, his hand under his hair on the back of his neck. "Uhh...no, I didn't go home with anyone." 

You inched closer to him until your thigh was touching his. He looked at your bare leg and swallowed. You hadn't worn anything to bed but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties. 

"You don't have to spend the night alone, Sam." You reached for his hand and moved it to the inside of your thigh parting your legs slightly. His hand covered a large portion of your leg.  It was warm and solid, and the feel of it made your core quiver.

SAM'S POV

Your skin is so soft, and you smell so good. How am I supposed to resist this? Resist you when I've wanted you for so long? I can't. I just can't. I'm sorry. You should be touched by a man you love, not me. I love you, but you deserve more than something one sided. That's why I haven't said anything or made a move. Maybe I shouldn't have put you on a pedestal, but I did. In my mind, that's where you belong.

I slide my hand along your smooth skin stopping at the top of your thigh, take a deep breath, and pull you closer to me with my other arm so I can kiss you. Your mouth opens under mine, and my tongue eases inside. Everything about you is so sweet. I'll never forget the way you taste. I want to leave some trace of me on you, some mark, some memory that you were mine for a little while. I pull you down on the bed with me and roll on top of you.

My kiss gets deeper; you accept it and respond. My hand is moving over your hip and under your shirt. I'm already halfway to hard. My hand is resting on your waist, and I keep kissing you, taking it slow.

I've thought about kissing you so many times, but my imagination never got it right.  My hand continues its move up your body over your stomach, and I feel you pull back the tiniest bit. Alarm bells go off in my head. You're beneath me, in my arms. I want you so much, but if you’re not absolutely sure….  I pull back and look at you. "I can't do this, Y/N."

The expression on your face sent a pain straight to my heart. The next thing I felt was your hands pushing against my chest. "Get off of me!" I sat back, and you were off the bed instantly, glaring at me through tears. 

"Really, Sam? Am I that much of a disappointment? Just tell me I'm not good enough for you. Just tell me!" You stormed across the room fumbling with the doorknob before you managed to get it open.  

You turned back to me. I was frozen in place trying to absorb the shock of being snatched out of the soft, perfect dream that I'd been lost in seconds before. "Go back to the bar, Sam. It's early. I'm sure there are plenty of tall blondes there with long legs, or petite brunettes, or whatever the hell you want. Take your pick; you can, and I'm sure she'll be happy to satisfy you."

The slamming of the door got my brain working again. I almost fell off the bed in my hurry to get to you, to explain. By the time I got the door open, there was no sign of you in the hall. I ran toward your room calling your name. When I got there I wanted to crash through the door, but I controlled my near desperation to let you know what I truly felt, that I would never think you weren’t good enough. It’s me who isn’t good enough for you.

I knocked on the door. Seconds passed. You weren't going to answer it. I didn't blame you, believing what you did. "Y/N. Y/N. Please. You don't understand. Let me explain.  It's not what you think. At all. It's nothing like what you think."  

READER'S POV

Sam had stopped knocking on the door, but he hadn't stopped talking. You were leaning against the door listening. "Please let me in, Y/N. I'll tell you everything. Just let me in." He sounded genuinely upset.

Even now, after what he'd done, you still wanted to comfort him. You wanted to take the hurt from his voice. Slowly, you opened the door. His chest was rising and falling fast. This really had affected him. That didn't make sense. You'd offered him sex. Scratch that. You'd offered him you, and he wasn't interested. Now, he was upset?  You saw the relief wash over his face. "Y/N?"

In a flat voice you said,"You can come in." He stepped just inside the room. You walked to the bed and sat down. "Stay over there."  

Sam folded his hands in front of him, drawing your attention to the bulge that was still in his pajama pants. He focused on the floor in front of where you were sitting. "Why did you do it, Sam? Do you know what it feels like to be cast aside like that?" You swallowed and shook your head, fighting back another wave of tears. "No, you don't, because practically every woman that sees you wants you. If you spend the night alone, it's because you choose to."

He raised his head to look straight into your eyes. "I've chosen to spend a lot of nights alone. Do you know why?" He paused. "Because I met you. I started noticing these little things about you like you chew on your bottom lip when you're trying to figure something out. You run your hands through your hair and put it behind your ears all the time; it's enough to drive a guy crazy. You always eat your French fries first. When you want to relax or calm down, you listen to rain or ocean waves. Then one day you smiled at me like you had probably hundreds of times before, but that time was different. That time I felt my stomach do a little flip, and I knew I was in love with you."

A tear slipped down your cheek. Sam's voice was deep and gentle as he kept talking.  "Then Dean got married, and right in front of me every day I saw what it was like to share your life with someone. He had everything I wanted. My brother was happy."  

Sam looked up to the ceiling; tears collected in the corners of his eyes. He looked back down, blinked, and they fell. Then he raised his eyes back to yours. "So, I started going to bars because it was too hard to be here, but I was never going to find what I was looking for there because it was already here, and I knew it. I wanted to be with you."

"Sam?" His name came out of your mouth as a whisper. 

"The problem was you didn't want it. I saw your reaction when waitresses would flirt with me at the diners we went to. You'd tense up or get fidgety. You didn't like it. You thought I was one of those guys who likes to play those games, using my looks to stroke my own ego."

You put your hand over your mouth and held it there before you moved it down to your chin, fingers shaking. "Sam, I never thought that about you. I thought I could never measure up to those women who were flirting with you. That’s what I didn’t like, that I was someone who could never get your attention." Your hand was shaking harder now.

Sam crossed the room in three steps and wrapped his arms around you.  He held you and rested his chin on top of your head. "Don't you know you're beautiful, Y/N?"  

You looked up at him, your eyes glistening with tears. "How would I know that, Sam?  No one has ever told me." He squinted his eyes slightly and brushed the tears from your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. "And, if that's what you thought then why did you stop?" Your voice caught, and your words came out unsteady. "I was going to give myself to you." You were shaking in his arms.

Sam stroked your hair, touching you like you were precious. It made you cry even more. His voice was steady and soothing. "Shhh. That's why I couldn't do it. You should only give yourself to someone you love as much as I love you. Anything less than that isn't the way it should be for you. It isn't what I want for you." He placed a single kiss on top of your head.

You lay your hand on his chest where you had shoved him earlier, so close to his heart.  "Sam, I do love you."

SAM'S POV

Your touch was light, and your hand felt tiny on my chest. I held you tighter, processing what you'd just said. After a few seconds, I pulled back from you far enough to see your face. The truth was in your eyes; I could see it. You do love me. 

I knew this kiss was important. We would remember it for the rest of our lives, talk about it in the middle of the night when we settled back into bed after one of us got up to take care of our baby. I barely touched your lips with mine at first, but it wasn't long before everything I felt for you that I'd kept bottled up inside came out in that kiss. My hands were holding your face, and I slid one of them into your hair. You felt so warm and willing. My body was responding to you, hardening again.

Your hand rubbed down my side grabbing the bottom of my t-shirt. You started to pull it up. I broke the kiss long enough to take it off, then my mouth was back on yours. I felt your hands on my back, and I wanted to feel your skin. I rested my cheek against yours, slowly easing my hand back under your shirt where it had been before. I whispered to you "Is this okay?" I kept my hand still, waiting for your answer.

I felt you tremble. "My body isn't what you're used to, Sam."  

I brushed my fingertips across your stomach looking for any sign that you didn't want me to. "You're perfect, Y/N. I'm going to show you just how beautiful you are." I felt your head nod against mine, so I moved my hand up a little higher and cupped your breast. You sucked in a breath and let it out in a tiny gasp. I kneaded gently, moving my thumb back and forth across your nipple until it was hard. You arched your back,  rolled your hips, and let out the sweetest, softest moan I could have ever imagined. The way you sound is beautiful. I did the same with your other breast, kissing your neck while I touched you.

All your little moans and noises had me totally hard and throbbing for you. I moved my hand back down your stomach and under the waistband of your panties. You whimpered when I slid my finger between your folds, and you were so wet your juices were running over my hand. Avoiding your clit for now, I put one finger inside you and your moans got louder. "Sam."

I moved that finger in and out, establishing a rhythm. "I've got you, Y/N." You were tight around just my finger, and my dick twitched. I added another finger, taking all the time you needed to stretch you and get you ready for me. I held you close while I pumped them into you. When you were writhing against me,  I touched my thumb to your clit and started making little circles. Then I changed the motion, dragging my thumb over your clit in time with my fingers moving in and out of you.  When I thought you were ready, I added a third. You clenched around my fingers and tightened your hold on my shoulders. The feel of your hands clutching me like that made me moan, imagining what you would do once I was inside you.

I went back to making circles, faster this time. "Let go, Y/N, let go." You came on my fingers, your nails digging into my shoulder. I worked you through your orgasm then put both of my arms around you. You were panting. I kissed you,taking those little breaths into me. I could still feel you shaking in my arms. "I love you, Y/N. I love you."

I held you until you stilled in my arms and were calm again. You shifted, sitting back and looking at my chest. You reached out and touched me gingerly. "I'm sorry I pushed you off me the way I did." You leaned down kissing the places on my chest where your hands had pushed against me.

When you sat back, I put my hand under your chin tilting your face up. "Let me see you, Y/N." You only hesitated a second before you lifted your shirt over your head and put it down beside you. I think I held my breath when you reached to take off your panties. You are beautiful. Your body is all feminine, soft curves I want to kiss and caress. Seeing you makes me harder. The tip of my cock is leaking; I feel it. You lift your hips and slide your panties down your legs.

My mouth drops open, and I Iick my lips pulling the bottom one into my mouth. I can see the uncertainty on your face. "Do you trust me, Y/N?"

You close the distance between us and lay your head on my chest. "Yes." It may only be one word, but it's exactly what I need.  

I put my arms around you, my hands on the bare skin of your back, and I lower you gently to the bed. "I'll make this good for you; I promise." I take your earlobe into my mouth sucking lightly. "You are beautiful, Y/N, and sexy. Do you know how much I want you?" I push my pelvis against you, so you can feel my erection. "That's because of you. It's for you." I move my mouth down the side of your neck, kissing you the entire way. Your skin is sweet; it occurred to me then that I'll fall asleep tonight with the taste of you on my tongue.

I kiss my way across your shoulder. Then I lift my head to put my mouth on your breast. I start by kissing a soft circle around the edge then move to the center to flick my tongue over your nipple. My lips close around you and start to suck. A groan escapes from my throat, deep and full of need. I'm so hard for you now that I don't know how much longer I can take this, but I will.

I move my mouth to your other breast, careful of my teeth. Tonight I'm making love to you slowly, gently, and completely. I want you to forget that I've ever been with anyone but you. I want you to understand who you are to me and never again feel the need to compare yourself to another woman. I swirl my tongue around and over your nub until it stands up firm in my mouth, my fingers rolling your other nipple still moist from my mouth keeping it just as tight.

You're squirming under me. I lick down the center of your stomach right to your core, and you open your legs for me. I put my hands on your hips to hold you still. You are so wet my face is covered in your slick as soon as my tongue touches you, and I drink in everything you give me. My tongue is flattened against your clit. I’m stroking it slow,  teasing before moving down to push my tongue inside you. I thrust it as deep as I can go. Your voice is pleading with me. "Sam. Sam." I go back to your clit, pointing my tongue and moving over it as fast as I can. You're fisting the sheets.

"Put your hands in my hair, Y/N. Hold me where you want me." You did exactly what I said and pulled my hair hard. That turned me on even more. You were close to coming again. Your thighs were shaking. I put two fingers inside you and crooked them rubbing your g-spot until you fell apart. I kissed your stomach softly while you came down from your orgasm, keeping my fingers inside you. "You are beautiful, Y/N. Absolutely perfect."  

Your expression is gentle and a little blissed out from the two orgasms, but your words are clear and certain. "Sam, I want all of you. I want you to come inside me. Give me what I gave to you." I kissed you one more time just below your belly button then stood up long enough to take off my pants. Naked, I crawled back up your body and propped myself on my forearm so I could brush your hair off your cheek. It amazes me that every part of you is just so soft.

 My face was just inches from yours. I was memorizing the way you looked right now.  "Are you sure?" Your eyes were filled with everything I'd ever wanted to see there.  Love. Trust. Desire.  

"Yes." You lay your hand on my cheek. “I’m completely sure.”

I couldn't take my eyes away from yours as I lined myself up with your opening.  I wanted to see the look on your face when I entered you for the first time.

READER'S POV

You felt the end of Sam's shaft touch you. The way he was looking at you made you feel wanted and, yes, beautiful. You felt the stretch as he pushed inside. He stopped with just the tip, letting you get used to his size. Your eyes closed and fluttered back open. "I love you, Sam." He slid in another inch.

"I love you too, Y/N.”  He went deeper, inch by inch, until he was all the way inside you.  He started to move, and you grabbed onto his shoulders. His thrusts were so deep they were hitting your cervix. Your walls tightened around him. Nothing had ever felt so good, so right. He moved faster then slowed down. "I don't know how much longer I can last, Y/N. I'm so close."

Through all your pants and moans you managed to say, "You don't need to. Just love me. Don't hold back."  

He pumped into you deep and fast. You felt him throb releasing his seed into you. "Sam!" You scratched down his back. "I'm coming again. Sam." You squeezed your eyes shut tight. Everything went black. Then you felt him rolling over, bringing you with him so that your body was part way on his, and he was cradling you against him.  

You lay with your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat for a long time. Finally, it slowed back down to its normal rate. Sam was combing his fingers through your hair.  "Can you forgive me, Y/N? All those nights I wasn't here, I should have been."

You snuggled closer into him. "You didn't owe me anything, Sam. There's nothing to forgive. Just don't ever do it again. Let me be enough. I want to be enough for you."

"You're everything, Y/N.  Everything."

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @peridottea91 @logical-princey @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @tumbler-tidbits @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @crashdevlin @jules-1999 @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @volleyballer519 @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @sorenmarie87 @lovealways-j @mrswhozeewhatsis @spnbaby-67 @wayward-and-worn @petitgateau911 @thinkinghardhardlythinking

Sam/Jared: @girl-next-door-writes @stunudo @idabbleincrazy @evansrogerskitten @focusonspn @autumninavonlea @durinsbride @deansyahtzee​ @waywardnerd67​ @fullmooner​ @sams-sass​ @beskaradberoya​

#sam x reader #sam angst #sam smut #sam fluff #sam oneshot #sam in love

[min-youngis]

aesthete - j.jk

banner is miNe

~ Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (artist!kook)

~ Genre: Fluff (is v soft), Suggestive (?), a smidgen of angst

~ Rating: T bordering on M (yes, i'm an ao3 gal why do u ask)

~ Summary/Excerpt: You can feel it when he whispers that he wants to paint you, his words kissed against the side of your jaw, lips feathering across your skin like his brushes.

Established Relationship

~ Word Count: 1.7k

~ Warnings: implied sexy times, kissing, casual nudity, eM0TionaL vuLnerABiLity i suppose

~ A/N: i would simply like to see a harry styles and bts interaction tomorrow, i think that would be super. disclaimer- this story has nothing to do w that.

i'd love to hear feedback, spread the love!

masterlist in my description.

You know you love him. You can feel it when he offers to drop you off at work, because you're en route to his client, and your heart flops a bit at his thoughtless kindness. You can feel it when he takes pictures of you on dates when he thinks you aren't looking, and then again when you catch him setting those pictures as his lockscreen wallpaper.

You can feel it when he whispers that he wants to paint you, his words kissed against the side of your jaw, lips feathering across your skin like his brushes.

His fingers trace a path of comfort up and down your back; earlier, you would've thought it was mindless, but now you know better. Every catch of his nail on your shoulder blade, every lazy dip of his finger tips down toward the small of your back is art. And you don't know how you feel about being something as reliable as his canvas.

You don't answer immediately, choosing instead to silently let your palm settle more solidly against the side of his chest, your head cushioned next to it. Slowly, you look up, resting your chin on his firm torso. There's a stupidly poetic beam of moonlight entering the room, cutting across his face and throwing it into stark definition, even from the awkward angle at which he has to bend to look you.

With his weight solid beneath you, the heat of his body that you had recently been intimately acquainted with effortlessly grounding you, and the soothingly relentless patterns of his fingers on your back, the vulnerability in your eyes isn't easy to miss.

"What if you see too much?"

"With you, it's never enough."

"Comfortable?"

You nod slowly, letting yourself settle in position, body draped on its side over the hardwood floor. Your palm holds your head aloft as you face the empty chair a few feet from you sideways. You can feel heat below you, lying down as you are on a patch of sunlight, can feel heat over you from the midday warmth seeping in through the open window, can feel heat in jungkook's touch as he positions your free arm so its comfortably curled in front of your chest, your fingers grazing your already sensitive neck.

He kisses you once, twice, thrice, countless times on the side of your head, calloused painter fingers taking their time in making subtle adjustments to your limbs. Occasionally, he stops in his calculated movements, walks in front so he can look at you from the perspective in which he's going to be immortalising your body in art. Eyes rake down your naked frame, gaze warming you and making you shiver despite the summer sunlight hitting you directly.

His fingers trail fire as they gently push your upper thigh a little more to the front, burn imprints onto the small of your back as he makes you straighten the curved in arch, leave scorch marks against the side of your neck as he tilts it to rest more firmly on your palm.

And you let him. How could you not? He's treating you like you're made of china. Like you're art. Your breath hitches every time you feel him on you, his palm settling on your stomach to soothe paradoxically keying you up more. You don't say a word. The gentleness is too much, too kind.

"You good?" he softly asks, smoothing down your hair as he kneels behind you. This is intimate; far more intimate than anything you've done before.

"Yeah."

You're only half-lying, you know. But nonetheless, you nearly purr as jungkook's palm slides down from your forehead to cup your jaw, tilting your painstakingly positioned head up to face him. If he sees the muted fear in your eyes, he makes no mention of it.

He dips his head, dropping a soft kiss against your lips that you sigh into, letting you press up into it as much as you need to ground yourself. His warm fingers don't leave your face. Your eyelids flutter open when you pull away, a little calmer, a little more reassured.

"If you feel uncomfortable, we can stop immediately, okay? Just say the word." His tone rings with conviction, with comfort, with kindness; and you know that you're going to pull through with this.

Wordlessly, you nod, returning his soothing smile with a small one of your own before he moves your neck back to its previous position.

He takes his time setting up, smoothing down the pad on the easel, examining his pencils with concentration and care. You've seen him do it a hundred times, but it's different now. When all the preparation is to draw you.

You resist the urge to shift, already a bit restless after being still for no more than ten minutes. But there's an unacknowledged thought in your head, disowned but definitely present. Selfishly, a little narcissistically, and incredibly terribly, you want to see how it turns out. How you turn out.

"I'm starting now," he softly says, gently tugging you out of wherever you've zoned out to.

Giving your fingers one last flex, you nod. "Where do you want me to look?"

"Right at me."

His answer should make you want to wrench yourself off the floor, grab your clothes and send you running for the high hills. All it does is make you smile. "Okay."

You've sat in on some of his projects; watched him as he designed colourful tapestries for clients, landscapes filled with rainbows and elephants for day care walls, elegant, artistic prints for framing and portraits for celebrities. But here, on the receiving end of his focused gaze, is an entirely different ball game. After a point, you don't know who's observing whom.

Jungkook's tongue pokes out occasionally, lips get pursed in a concentrated pout. His foot taps a bit as he compares you to what he's drawn so far, eyes narrowing as he smooths some strokes. His little habits keep you from noticing the strain on your bent wrist, the soreness in your thighs. Above you, the sunlight becomes a little warmer as it gets closer to noon, and the family of red finches that comes to your garden everyday makes its appearance known through the open window.

It's all so stupidly ideal, everything happening around you. Sat on his three-legged stool with one hand on his waist as he stretches his back ever so often, giving you reassuring smiles occasionally, making you giggle when he pointedly looks at your boobs before winking obnoxiously, his oversized grey t-shirt falling over broad shoulders and smelling like paint and patchouli soap and comfort; Jungkook could be the model, the artist and the muse, all rolled into one.

You're observing the way the messy ponytail on his head is slowly starting to come apart, wispy strands brushing against the bottom of his ears, curling against the cut of his jaw, when he finally says, "Done."

You're silent for a second, just letting yourself look at him a bit more, observing as he paints a few more marks on the paper in front of him before he places the pencil down, arms coming up and back straightening as he stands up and stretches, nudging the stool out of the way. It's too soon to revert to the knowledge that you're perceived, and that how you're perceived by him is now so transparent and just a few steps away from you. You're far better off in this quixotic fairytale, where all you have to do is watch Jungkook, no doubt with an overfull gaze of fondness.

He tilts his head to the side with a knowing look. "Do you want to see?"

Slowly, you ease your limbs, massaging your wrist as you come up to a sitting position. "I don't know," you shrug, busying yourself with rolling your ankles to get the numbness out, not meeting his eyes. "Do I want to see?"

You feel him watching you as you pull on clothes, tugging your t-shirt over your head and examining your pants to find the front and back.

"I like it. But I think that's less because it's artistically good and more because I like you."

It's corny. It's so cheesy, and it's so stupid, but incredibly, it's affirming. And it makes you want to see.

Smoothing your hands down the front of your leggings, you turn around to face him, small smile and twinkling eyes greeting you and making you feel a warmth that not a single shade of sunlight could manage during the last hour. His arm is extended towards you, palm open, waiting for yours.

Wordlessly, you convince your legs to guide you to him, feet scuffing on the wooden floor and suddenly sounding too loud. Fingers curl as you timidly place your hand atop his, letting him gently tug you close to his frame. With a soft kiss to your forehead, he twirls you so you're facing the paper.

You hardly notice his arms winding around your waist, barely register his chin resting atop your head.

You're painted in quiet hues of pink, lips curled up slightly in a small smile, eyes dripping honey. The curve of your hip right down to the tapering of your ankles are all softened. You don't even realise that you're tracing out the image, shaking fingers stalling momentarily as you find something new, something you. The scattering of moles on your forearm, the curl of your hair at the bottom, the subtle red of the mosquito bite near your belly button, the brown birth mark near your knee. You still once you reach your slightly smudged feet, chipped blue nail polish thrillingly evident.

"You kept wiggling your toes."

It's such an innocuous statement, an explanation for something so fascinatingly real, and it makes you want to punch and kiss him simultaneously. You're too overwhelmed to reply, though, settling for squeezing his arm silently, subtly moving backwards closer to his chest.

His breath whooshes against the hair on the top of your head as he asks, squeezing back, "Are you glad you saw it?"

You'd nod, if you weren't so scared of displacing the moment, suspended in air and tender.

"Yeah," you whisper, letting your hand fall. Silently, you turn around, wrapping your hands around his waist and trying to convey as much as you can through the hug, head burrowing into his frame as his chest rumbles with fond, muted chuckles. "I love it."

#bts #jungkook #ficswithluv #thekpopnetwork #kwritersworldnet #ultkpop #btsbookclub #btsguild #btswritingcafe #jeon jungkook #kpop fluff #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #kpop imagine #bts fic #kpop fic #jungkook fic #jeongguk #bts jungkook #bangtan boys #bts au #grammys #bts smut #kpop smut #jungkook smut #bangtan sonyeondan #jdjsjs

[taechaos]

Idea tae really don't know how to take things seriously lol, but gotta admit the end was hella hot, Idk why but something in Tae telling you to sleep so he could fuck you is way too nwido3bdo3nek. Also when I imagined what could happend after, I had this idea of the OC trying to sleep but couldn't because of the nerves of what was going to happend, so they both know she was awake but he still fuck her as if she was and she just act as if she was during it, like a improve/telepathic role play lol.

I have way too much free time

no one asked but im going to write it anyway 💀if anyone needs a backstory

Back then, you merely speculated what happened at nighttime that left you all sore or drowsy in the morning. You could never guess what Taehyung would do or when he would do it, but now that you have closure, now that you know when Taehyung is going to do what he's been doing for some time now with a hiatus in between, you're not having trouble sleeping. You're having trouble staying awake.

It's approaching 5 AM and your dumbified brain can't justify the reason as to why you turn away the opportunity to catch up on so much lost rest when you finally can. Maybe after feeling insecure for so long, you want to feel wanted. Maybe you just miss Taehyung's touch.

Whatever it is, you don't listen to your body and keep your redshot eyes open that droop regardless of your anticipation.

Did he fall asleep?

The sheets shift under your bodies when Taehyung takes his arms off of you to lie on his back. There's more shuffling and you're hit with the realization that he's also been waiting. He must have assumed you fell asleep after not moving for so long like you tend to do when you're restless. It makes your heart pang with anxiety, and it gradually falls out of rhythm when you hear him presumably sliding down his briefs. You're going on mere assumptions from the noise, and hearing him spit in his hand supports your mental image.

You hear him inhale and imagine this is the part where he wraps his hand around himself, slowly stroking his length to prepare for what he would do to you, you who is still awake—why?

A deep hum resounds in the room and your toes curl at the sound. You can hear his strokes, how his fist picks up the pace and hits against his pelvis.

You almost shudder when you feel a hand sliding to your hip, down to the waistline where he gently tugs to pull your pajamas down to your calves. You realize a second later that it's past your thighs with your underwear. How do you not wake up from this every time it happens?

He pulls your leg on top of his to give himself access of your pussy, and a gasp is stuck in your throat when two fingers graze your folds. His erection is pressing against your butt and you can't suppress the shiver that racks your body, but this must have happened before since Taehyung doesn't cease his movements.

But then he pauses. You purse your lips into a hard line as to not make any noise when he slides a finger up and down your labia, slick with your arousal. Your head unintentionally tilts, very slightly.

That's not what makes him sharply exhale from his nose in amusement. It's the fact that you're aroused in your sleep—supposedly. There's nothing unusual about your squirming but the fact that you're wet is a little... suspicious.

Typically, he'd have to use his spit to ease himself into your entrance, but since you're practically dripping on his fingers, he skips that step. Just to mess with you a little bit though, he begins to circle your clit to see if you'd still keep up the act. You nails latch onto your pillow to take out your pleasure on something—anything. Your knee bends ever so slightly, and he takes a subtle peek to test his suspicion.

The sight under him makes his knowing smile falter instantly and cock throb. Your jaw hangs with your eyes rolled back to your skull, lashes fluttering from the action. But still no sound.

He'd expect you to at least grind on him, considering the torturously slow speed of his fingers on your sensitive nub, but you're so determined to fool him.

Well, two can play that game.

Routine requires him to lube you up while also being mindful of your unconscious state, but since you're very awake and alert, he's allowed to switch things up. He slams your hips against his, and your breath hitches before he pokes your entrance with the tip of his cock. Slow and carefully, he inserts the head, earning him a blissful sigh. He bites his lip and glares at the back of your head. He was right in calling you stupid earlier; what's the point of being quiet when you're still making sounds? Why not just give him the full experience instead?

But you'd be embarrassed, of course, not wanting him to know of your wanton, mutual desire for him. It's frustrating... but fine. He kept it a secret at first too; he'll just have to empathize for now.

Except empathy was never his strongest suit, and translates to forcing you to face the truth by shoving the rest of his length inside you in one go. You squeak at the unexpected motion and stretch, but hope the resonant rumble reverberating in his chest drowns it out. The idea is a reach, but you convince yourself that's the case with rose tinted cheeks. To think this used to happen every night...

He bottoms out for a few seconds, gaping at you with an intimidating stare that you can't see before dragging his cock out halfway and thrusting in again, stuck in this spooning position where your legs are tangled. He hums a deep moan when he sets a rough pace, in harmony with your hips that grind down on him.

A breathless chuckle escapes him when he notices; as if your quiet gasps weren't enough, now you're meeting his thrusts. He can't keep up this pretend game any longer.

Your hair is pulled back from your shoulder to your back, baring your neck that he bites on. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to make you shriek mixed with a moan.

"Oh sorry, did I wake you, princess?" He doesn't bother sounding apologetic and instead rams into you harder after stilling your hips.

"Yes," you whine, and he doesn't know whether you're answering the question or expresssing your pleasure.

Just like he'd hoped, your moans finally mix together and the feeling of your tight, clenching walls along with your moans drives him animalistic, no longer caring for his victory in that stupid game; only you and your ruts.

"Harder," you demand weakly, body slowly going limp from your lack of energy. The sleepiness is catching up to you once more, but your release is so close.

Your state doesn't go missed, and since you're not in a position to protest against his wishes, he takes this opportunity to sit up and lift your ass, only taking a second to return to his previous tempo.

The different angle emits louder moans from you, though still limp, and he's practically in heaven when he starts kneading your ass. These are all of his desires happening at once in full speed.

His rapid thrusts are turning sloppy, sweat beginning to cummulate on his chest and forehead when he commands, "Touch yourself."

You oblige with a whine, and it becomes all too much for him to resist; he slams into you slowly, but with fervour. It's almost too intense for him to hold back any longer. "Good girl," he grunts with a wince. He's reluctant when he pulls out to pump himself while watching you masturbate, ass still high in the air. He needs to get you some contraceptives as soon as possible; cumming like this is torture.

He's staring at your erotic face when he groans, his release landing on your back and butt in white strings before you follow suit. He collapses on his stomach next to you while your body spasms and twitches, taking a minute to recover from your orgasm. He rubs your back, occasionally scratching at your back as you stop kneeling on the mattress.

"You gonna pretend to sleep tomorrow too?" he teases with a dazed grin.

"Shut up," you grumble as you get into a comfortable position, snuggling into his chest with a pout.

The action reminds him of your old self. You used to be affectionate with him, always wishing to spend time with him before these taboo feelings got in the middle of your relationship. He was your role model, but he doesn't care about losing the imagine you had of him. But it endears him to see a glimpse of your neediness again, warms his heart to be like this with you again.

He wraps an arm around your shoulder and enjoys this moment a little longer before dimming his eyes.

#not proofread but who asked 😀 #hOpe u eenJoy #idea tae #taehyung smut #OwO

[linorangge]

Monarchy | Prince! Hyunjin AU

Among the kingdom, he’s known for his good looks and you can’t help but think that’s all he has to offer. With an uprising waiting to happen, you may be his last resort. (CONTENT WARNING: angst, fluff, cursing, d3ath, suggestive language.) Part 2 | Word Count: 2147

Hwang Hyunjin, heir to the throne, but not anytime soon. He was a prince sure, but he was in line behind a sister, and two brothers. The youngest of four children, the Hwang siblings were elite among the six  kingdoms of Asia. Hyunjin was 20, his eldest brother was 25, his sister 23 and his other brother 22.

You had never seen him in person. You always saw him on national broadcasts and when you did, he never spoke, he was reserved. The kingdom admired him mainly for his good looks, his good posture, his long hair, and especially his long legs and perfect physical appearance.

He was especially popular among young adults and teenage girls, all your friends had pictures of him from newsletters and magazines. He modeled for countless clothing lines. He was the most well known Hwang sibling despite all of them having good physical genes.

Your father was the head military general, therefore he saw the Hwang family often. From what you’d heard from your father, they were all similar, except for Hyunjin. He was the quiet one among them.

Your opinion on the Hwang family wasn’t necessarily the most well formed.

His eldest brother, Hwang Sungho, was most known for being the funny and extroverted sibling. He was polite with people and animals, and he was often seen talking pictures with anything that breathed. You liked him, he didn’t seem all that bad.

His eldest sister, Hwang Eunjung, was the epitome of grace. Every girl aspired to be like her. She was every young girl’s role model. She was a lover of the arts, dancing, sculpting, drawing, photography, botany. She was affectionate with her brothers and she was known for her loving nature towards all who came into contact with her. She wasn’t necessarily your role model, but you liked her, and deeply admired her.

His second eldest brother, Hwang Minjun, was also known as being clever and funny. Minjun was often seen as the “troublesome” sibling because he would often accidentally curse during broadcasts. You thought he was funny but ill-mannered.

And then there was Hwang Hyunjin, quiet, “sit still and be pretty” Hyunjin. You thought of him as just a pretty face, a person with no real personality or good talents. He didn’t have much to offer the kingdom in your opinion, which was okay, considering he was last in line and would most likely never become king.

You had never seen any of the royal family in person, and you didn’t desire to. You were satisfied with the life you were living, and you didn’t have any real aspirations other than to become exactly like your father. Your mother had fled the kingdom a long time ago, just after you were born.

Your father had raised you, and he’d taught you martial arts, and sword fighting at a young age. You slowly developed these skills the older you got. Knights were often men, and you aspired to be the first female knight. With your background and reputation with your father being the head general, this could be easily accomplished.

You were 20, and when you turned 21, you’d be able to enlist to begin official training as a knight.

Well, today was the day of a ball being held at the royal palace. You and your father were of course invited and you were both being strapped into expensive clothes by your maids.

Your maid, Byeol, was tightening a corset around your waist as you looked through different necklaces to pair the gown with.

“Ready miss.” Byeol said as she tapped your shoulder gingerly.

You turned and admired yourself in the mirror, the way the bodice hugged your curves well. The dress had straps that fell off the shoulder, giving it an elegant sort of lazy look. The layers of fabric beneath the corset were beautiful and had intricate stitches that held the various layers together.

“Which shoes?” She said as she organized some shoes on a rack.

“The black ones.” You said as you adjusted the dress, still looking in the mirror.

She came around in front of you and lifted your dress as she helped put your shoes on. Byeol was a good maid, she was the closest thing you had to a mother figure. She respected your boundaries but she had taught you everything your mother didn’t. Sewing, knitting, calligraphy, she even taught you how to play cello. You were disciplined thanks to your father and Byeol.

Byeol brought your case of necklaces and jewelry and showed them to you.

“Which do you think goes better?” You said, sifting through them.

“This one.” She said, picking up a medallion with an intricate design on it.

You nodded and took the case from her so she could put it on you.

“Are you nervous?” She asked as she pulled the necklace chains behind you.

“Not really, I think I’ll just eat finger sandwiches and chat with some old friends.” You said, feeling her clip the necklace on, and letting it fall against your chest.

“Why don’t you try dancing with the Hwang brothers? You’re of a high caste, I’m sure it wouldn’t be too taboo.” She said as she fixed the dress from behind you.

“I’m not interested in them.”

Byeol stopped fixing your dress for a moment, “Are you sweet?”

“Sweet?”

“Do you like women, Y/n?”

You turned your head a bit, “No? I don’t think so. I don’t have any interest in royalty, much less the one who’s my age.”

“Prince Hyunjin is a good looking young man. You have no reason to be so judgmental of him.”

“That’s all he is, Byeol. He has nothing to offer.”

“You sound like the rebels.” She said as she stood from fixing your dress.

“Rebels aren’t even knowledgeable. They’re just drunks who roam the sewers.” You said as you turned to face her.

“Be careful who you say these things to, the uprising is near.” She whispered.

“Father has it under control. The uprising will diminish and so will the rebels.” You said confidently.

“Let’s hope so.” She fixed your hair and fluffed it a bit to give it volume.

“Do I look okay?” You asked.

“You look beautiful.” She said as she patted your bare shoulders.

You heard your father shout, “Y/n! The carriage is here!”

You hastily picked up your dress, “Thank you Byeol, you’re an angel.”

You kissed cheeks and you made your way outside of your home.

Your father helped you inside the carriage and climbed in behind you. On your way there your father reminded you to be courteous and gentle. You nodded along to everything he said and before you knew it, you had arrived at the royal palace.

Royal coaches helped you out of the carriage and you held your father’s hooked arm as you walked down the large corridors towards the ballroom.

The halls were lined with guards, people your father was close to and some who even watched you grow up. You knew all of them, and for some odd reason this fact made you proud.

Your father and you walked to the front of the ballroom where the Royal family was sitting. You paused in front of them and curtsied as your father bowed.

You moved on and went to a table that had a place name with your surname. You were sat with some other generals your father worked with and you were all talking amongst yourselves.

And the royal dances with the Hwang siblings began. You were the oldest daughter at your table, the rest were all 12-15 year olds, therefore they weren’t eligible to dance with them. If your caste was high enough and you were 18 years or older, you were able to dance with the royal family.

The generals and their wives egged you on, and you pretended to be shy rather than disgusted at the thought of dancing with Hyunjin.

Your father gave you a look, “Go dance Y/n.” He gave a tight squeeze on your hand, letting you know that you had to dance, this was no longer an option.

“Alright then,” You said, standing from your seat and quickly fixing your gown before you made your way to the dance floor.

You walked up to the seats where the royal family sat, Eunjung, Minjun, and Hyunjin were the only ones left in their seats. You looked at Eunjung who was talking to a girl and giggling softly along with her. You turned to meet eyes with Minjun, who beckoned you towards him.

You stepped toward him and curtsied, “Prince Minjun, I’m Y/n, daughter of the head general.”

“Daughter of the general?” He said, looking you up and down.

You nodded.

“How old are you, Y/n?” He said, sitting up, fixing his posture slightly.

“I’m 20, my prince.”

His eyes widened. He tapped Hyunjin’s hand that was resting on the armchair. Hyunjin looked at his brother with a bored expression and jutted his chin.

“Dance with the head general’s daughter, it’ll be more exciting than dancing on your own.”

Hyunjin lazily turned his head towards you and looked you up and down.

You hated the way he looked at you. The way his eyes traveled your body and came to rest on the necklace around your neck, before meeting your eyes.

He turned back to Minjun, “I only dance alone.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“C’mon Hyunnie!”

Hyunjin interrupted his brother, “Don’t call me that in public.”

Minjun rolled his eyes, “Whatever, dance or I’ll tell dad to give you fencing lessons instead of dance lessons.”

Hyunjin huffed in annoyance, “I hate you.” He mumbled as he stood.

“You love me! C’mere little bro!” Minjun reached up to try and give his brother a cheek kiss. Hyunjin pulled away before he had the chance.

You curtsied before him, “My prince.” You mumbled before he took your hand and led you to the dance floor.

You reached the middle of the floor with him and people moved out of your way as they stared at both of you.

You curtsied as he bowed and he took your hand and began to waltz with you. His gaze was elsewhere, he wasn’t looking into your eyes and even avoiding eye contact.

“Just so you know, I was forced into doing this too.” You said as you both moved in sync.

He hummed in response as he held your waist, guiding you along as he danced. His dryness annoyed you.

“Do you always dance alone?” You asked, trying to start a conversation.

“Do you always ask so many questions?” He said, finally meeting eyes with you.

“Your eyes remind me of a dead fish.” You said, no longer worried about being polite.

He snorted, “Are dead fishes what entice women these days?”

“I wouldn’t know.” You said as he twirled you and he pulled you back towards him.

“I have a feeling you don’t like me.” He said.

“I wonder why.” You gave him a tight smile as you continued to waltz.

You both stayed quiet for a moment, letting the music guide you around the floor.

You watched his face, the way his expression was enthralled in the melody. His body was moved by the music, he was a true dancer. You could tell by his muscular legs and his toned biceps that you could feel through his suit.

“What kind of dancing do you do?” You asked.

“Contemporary, sometimes ballet.” He answered curtly.

“I thought Princess Eunjung did dancing?”

“She does, but she’s more interested in art and botany.” He said.

You nodded in response.

Soon, the symphony ended and you broke apart. He walked you back to the front of the room and let you curtsy before him once again before you made your way back to your table.

“How was it?” Your father asked.

“Good.” You said as you took a sip of wine.

After a moment of talking and eating little snacks presented in the middle of the table, a butler came behind you and tapped you on the shoulder.

You turned and he bowed slightly before saying, “Prince Hyunjin would like to see you in the orchard madam.”

You looked at your father and gave him a panicked look. He gave you a nod, gesturing for you to go.

You turned back to the butler, “Please let him know I’ll be on my way.”

The butler nodded and walked away swiftly. You stood, fixing your dress once again and made your way to the exit.

A million thoughts were going through your head. Was he going to get his revenge after you were so rude to him? Were you to be beheaded for your ill manners? You were afraid nonetheless.

Why would he need to see you in the orchard?

#hwang hyunjin #hyunjin smut #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin writing #hyunjin preferences #kpop #kpop preferences #kpop fluff #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #stray kids #stray kids writing #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids preferences #lee know #lee know smut #lee know fluff #lee felix #felix smut #felix fluff #bang chan smut #bang chan #bang chan fluff #bang chris #seo changbin #changbin #changbin fluff #changbin smut

[juniper-daisy]

-my all time celeb crush-

Euphoria

Negan/Reader

It's the middle of a zombie apocalypse. You've been traveling with Negan and his crew for quite some time now, but you hardly ever get recognition from the man you idolized the most. The one you didn't dare cross, the one who spent so much time protecting your people. One night, your artistic abilities come out at the wrong time. How will you pay for it?

•••

It was the middle of an apocalypse. I was with a fairly large group of people; the leader, the obvious henchmen, and the oblivious survivors. Our leader was attractive. He could fix just about any problem with the stomp of his boot. I was intimidated by him and he knew it. We were held up in a recently abandoned house. We locked the doors and windows so no one would come in and made ourselves comfortable around the house, but I made my way to the living room. It was dim. Only three candles lit the room up, a fireplace on the other side of the room to heat the house. Our group scattered around the house. Some in the kitchen, others in different rooms, everywhere you looked you'd see our crew. I sat on the floor at the table sketching while He relaxed on the couch, head on the armrest and legs almost sprawled out in front of him. He drew his hat over his face and dozed off. I wondered how a man like him could find time to nap in our situation. Unable to find inspiration, I turned to what I could see. Him laying in front of me. I started with general shapes, then moved to forming the shape of his body. I'd look back at him every few seconds, making sure I got every curve right. I'm sure he eventually felt my glare after the slight chuckle that came from under his hat. He lifted it and stood to his feet.

"Everyone clear the floor." He eyed me, making sure I didn't move a muscle as everyone else either went outside or upstairs. I was frozen, so riddled with anxiety and confusion that my muscles no longer knew how to function. It was silent for a good ten seconds until the boom of his boots moved towards me.

His hat was over his face so I doubted he'd be able to see what I was drawing. I started out drawing him. Sprawled out on the couch with his hand up, almost reaching for something. His body lay naked and exposed. I assumed it's what he looked like under his gear, but I never had the chance to really see. Next I drew a girl. Me. Sitting on his lap with my head back, so obvious that I was drawing us fucking. When I came close to finishing the sketch, I heard a chuckle. I looked up and his hat was still on his head, but you could tell it was his laugh. I went back to my drawing, only to hear him speak.

"You're wrong, y'know. If you were really on top of me you'd be looking a lot worse than that. I'd have you screaming at the top of your lungs."

How could he have seen it? His hat... Has holes in it. How did I not realize it before? I closed my sketch book and sat on the love seat behind me. I heard the gingling of keys, or what I thought was keys. He was undoing his belt. When he was done, he unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down a little bit.

"In case you need a reference for size.." I looked up and there he was, hand around his fully erect cock. It looked delicious. He started stroking it, letting me take in the view like I had never seen a dick in my life. I had, but none as big as his. Would it even fit anywhere in my body? Who knew. I wanted to find out, though.

I grabbed my sketch book and pencil so worn out I was surprised it even drew anymore. "Pose for me, then."

He walked to the couch and laid down. He had his arm propped under him, the other on his dick to hold it up. One of his legs was bent up, the other hanging off the couch. I moved to get the perfect angle and started my work. About 5 minutes in he started finally stroking himself, and it threw my stomach into a fit. By then I had already gotten most of the base finished, all I had to do is refine my lines and shade. I tried putting my sketch book down, but he demanded I kept going.

"Don't put that sketch book down until I've seen the finished product. I cleared the floor, there's no way anyone will see."

Why should I keep sketching you when I could just use this to make a painting to give to him later? I could do it anyways, but this was special. He was letting me sketch him during the zombie apocalypse.

He kept going as he was, making small grunts here and there. I could tell he was seriously turned on by this, and I was definitely on the same boat. My body was on fire. It had never been like this in college when I'd sketch the models. I had more feelings for him than I ever did those boys. I yearned for him more than he could've ever imagined. I began to squeeze my thighs together; any way to get friction I could. I guess he noticed from the chuckle that came out of him. I had almost finished it. Little did he know, I had all the time in the world to add myself. I was on his face, his hand gripping my ass with inhuman strength, already covered in bruises from his hand, his stomach and thighs covered in hickies, cum spurting from his cock and I hadn't even gotten to see it yet.

"Finished." A smirk lay on my face, so smuggish because I knew it'd drive him over the edge. I turned the book around. The moment he got to see it he finally let loose. His cum covered his stomach and it that's what sent me over the edge. I didn't cum, but the kinky confidence, my friend. I walked to him, grabbed his face and kissed him. It was a deep, passion filled kiss and it was everything. I went to kiss his neck, then down his body. My tongue lapped cum off his stomach and he grabbed my hair. He guided me to his already-hard-again cock and forced it down my throat.

"You're so dirty. None of my other wives have ever fucked like this. Oh, I've missed this. I haven't had a girl like you since before this fucking hell hole." His head was hanging back and mouth hanging slightly open. Small grunts and moans were escaping like the fluent foul words he always spoke. Rolling off his tongue with no effort. I was doing this to him.

Soon, though, he nudged me away and grabbed me to flip me over. My face was shoved into the couch and my ass in perfect view for him. My arms became restrained behind my back by his hands and knees apart by his own. Surely I was wet enough just being on full display in front of the man I had been lusting over for so long. I felt the tip of his cock prod at my glistening pussy. I desperately leaned back to feel him inside me, but I was stopped.

"Honey, I will tear you in two if you try that. I'm trying to make you scream, not cry." He eased into me to be sure he didn't hurt me, but somehow I still wanted more. I wanted to be absolutely destroyed by him. He had finally fit, and immediately pulled out to built up pace.

"Oh, Negan!" The first time he heard his name escape my mouth it's as though it almost sent him over the edge.

"Babygirl, oh fuck. I'm... So ready... To fuck you raw..." He thrust inside me between words, still way too sure not to hurt me.

"Fuck me. Oh, please go faster. I don't think I can handle not being railed by you right now."

He immediately picked up the pace, fucking me until I was basically screaming. I'm sure walkers could hear me from two miles away but in that moment not one part of me cared. The moment was too perfect. We were scratching and clawing, he was choking and slapping. Hand prints scattered across my body, all nearly purple. My high was finally building up and all I wanted was release.

"Negan, Sir. Can I please cum?"

All he said was, "go for it" and I was gone. On a cloud higher than 9 and the only thing I could do anymore was collapse. As soon as I fell from off his cock I could feel hot spurts of his cum trickling down my back. Euphoria.

#negan x reader

[lochrannn]

AU-gust: Escaping the Family

Read on AO3

No warnings

prompt no 6: Gaming

Characters: Lila Pitts, Diego Hargreeves, Five Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves, Vanya Hargreeves, Luther Hargreeves, Allison Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

-

This is by far the weirdest birthday Lila has ever had.

She’s in a new city in a foreign country, she’s in an escape room for the first time in her life, and she’s somehow ended up in a team with six bickering adult siblings and their teenage brother, who were apparently all born on the same day as her.

This, she finds completely unbelievable, though why they would lie, just to make use of the promotional free admission to people born on the first of October is entirely beyond her.

They’re all wearing stickers with Hello, my name is _______ and their handwritten name printed on them, though Lila feels it’s a little superfluous, as everyone except for her already knows each other, and she was also instantly annoyed when the little twerp in the pretentious school uniform wrote ‘Five’ on his name badge and his siblings are apparently indulging him.

Whatever, she’s not here to argue with a teenager. She’s really not too sure why she’s here at all.

Maybe she was feeling a little low and lonely when she passed the building and saw the ad for the birthday special, but now she's not too sure why she thought this was a good place to meet new people.

Currently she’s quickly losing her cool watching these complete strangers make an absolute pig’s ear of things.

The boy, Five, apparently, is sitting at an antique looking bureau trying to fiddle with something and swatting his brother Ben away, whenever he’s trying to help or interfere, she’s not entirely certain which.

The two siblings who look like models or influencers or something like that, Allison and Klaus are in another corner of the room and flicking small marbles up against the ceiling, though Lila is completely in the dark as to why, and going off their constant criticising of each other’s aim, they’re not doing a particularly good job.

The remaining three siblings Vanya, Luther, and Diego are huddled together in yet another corner, arguing over a scrap of paper and the presumed meaning of the words written on it, though it’s mostly devolved into hissed threats of bodily harm between the two bigger brothers and exasperated eye-rolling from Vanya.

Nobody has paid any attention to Lila in a solid fifteen minutes.

She’d take it personally if it weren’t for the fact that the only reason they seem to be interacting with each other is so they can make snide remarks about their lack of success with their respective tasks.

Lila decides that she’s had enough.

“Jesus Christ, you people are by far the most dysfunctional family I’ve ever come across and I should know, my parents were murdered in a botched robbery when I was four!”

By the end of her outburst she is shouting and now a pin could be heard if it were dropped.

The little wanker in the knee high socks is the first to break the silence, “Thought this was an escape room not a therapy session for traumatized orphans.”

“Hey, Five, don’t be mean to the nice crazy lady!” Diego, who she’s admittedly has had a bit of an eye on, jumps in, but right now the last thing Lila needs is some arsehole pretty boy white-knighting her, so she levels him with the deadliest glare she can manage and to her satisfaction he withers a little and doesn’t say anything else.

The rest of them just stare at her with differing levels of disbelief.

“Right!” Lila says with a determination that she’s mostly using to cover up the sudden awkwardness, “this might not have occurred to you, but can I suggest that we work together as a team and maybe try and solve the puzzles together?” She tries to keep the sarcasm in her voice to a minimum.

The siblings give each other slightly confused looks as if working together may be the furthest thing from their minds.

In the end Vanya is the first to break and says, “We’ve got a message here and I’m quite certain that it’s in Greek, though Diego says it’s Latin and Luther says it’s Russian. Does anyone have an idea what to do with this?”

Five gets up in a huff, storms over to unceremoniously take the note out of Vanya’s hand and then mumbles, “This is definitely ancient Greek, nice spot Vanya! Give me a minute, I think I can translate it.”

Ben, who has now finally got a chance to look at what Five was fiddling with at the bureau, calls out to the rest of them, “There’s two overlaying circle plaques here with the letters A to G in lower case and capital letters on them. There’s also some random small b’s and hashtags strewn in.”

“Let me see!” Vanya comes over to Ben excitedly, seemingly having had an idea. “Oh yeah, that’s a circle of fifths. Hold on we just have to turn it like this to get the right parallel modes together -”

There’s a click and one of the draws opens and Ben reaches in and presents a key to the rest of the group.

Lila is a bit surprised herself at how effective her little tantrum seems to have been.

“Ooh! Ooh! Do us next!” Klaus says with a little enthusiastic clap, looking expectantly at Lila, as if she’s done anything beyond merely pointing out that they should work together.

Allison, next to him, gives him a look that is mostly just an eyebrow lift, but Lila doesn’t need to have grown up with siblings to know that this is probably a very frequent expression between the two of them. Then Allison turns to the room at large and starts explaining, “There’s a small hole up there in the ceiling and we’re pretty certain there’s another switch inside it and there were these conveniently placed marbles that look like they just about fit through the hole, but we've missed everytime so far. I don’t know, maybe Five could get on Luther’s shoulders and see if he can reach it that way…” Allison trails off looking up at the ceiling.

“Show me?” Diego says slightly hesitantly, having kept quiet since Lila had put him in his place with a look.

He walks over to his brother and sister, takes one of the marbles from Allison, flicks it up at the ceiling without much hesitation, and hits the ceiling just next to the tiny hole in the wood panelling.

Without a word Klaus hands him another marble and Diego flicks this one up as well, manages to hit the hole and there’s another click from one of the draws in the bureau.

Ben reaches in and pulls out another key with a delighted, “Aha!”

-

In the end they get out using the two keys on the locks on the door and punching the code that Five deciphered from the Greek message into the additional keypad.

And then Lila suddenly finds herself out on the cold pavement, her quasi teammates a little way off, apparently arguing over where to go for food, though she’s trying strenuously not to eavesdrop, as now, after she was trying to get away from them as fast as possible, she feels a little forlorn.

She’s pulling the edges of her coat more tightly around herself while she’s wondering whether to try and catch a bus or splash out on a taxi for the occasion of her birthday, when Diego separates from his siblings and wanders over to her, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

“We’re… uh… we’re going for some food, d’you wanna come with?” he asks uncertainly, pulling a hand out to point a thumb over his shoulder towards his family.

Lila looks around him to where the five grown-ups and the teenager are apparently in the middle of a heated argument, and though a moment ago she felt oddly lonely, the thought of spending the rest of the evening with their constant bickering feels like a little much after all.

It seems Diego recognises the dilemma playing out on her face because he crosses his arms, looks down at his boot where he’s kicking at nothing on the pavement, and mumbles, “Or I could ditch them and you and I go out for a drink?”

Lila would have probably said yes anyway, but the shy smile on his face when he finally looks back up at her is stupidly irresistible.

“Won’t your siblings miss you for your birthday dinner?” Lila asks sincerely, though she hopes he’ll say they won’t.

“Eh, we meet up every first Sunday of the month, so I’ll see them at the weekend anyway,” he offers with a shrug.

“Well, do you know of anywhere where I can get a decent pint around here, then?” Lila asks with a bright smile on her face and a small flutter in her chest.

#au_gust_2021 #fanfic #tua #the umbrella academy #diego hargreeves #lila pitts #dielila #diego x lila #diego/lila #five hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #luther hargreeves #ben hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #lochrannn lxd au challenge