carlo's inherent tragedy as a character means that if he hadn't died young he would've gone through something worse. the horrifying realization that he inherited his father's personality <3

Can you make hc’s for hxh characters (feitan included cause of course) with a reader who gets startled very easily? Like straight jumps or screams

Thank you!

HXH with EasilyFrightened!Reader

Characters: Gon Freecs, Killua Zoldyck, Kurapika Kurta, Leorio Paladaknight, Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Porter Type: Headcanons, Gn!reader

these r kinda short oopsies

Warnings: none

Gon Freecs

sometimes he catches you off guard but he never actually means to scare you

the first time it happens he worries you might've saw something that scared you

but after finding out its just how you are he understands

the fact slips his mind though, so every time you jump or yell because he came up behind you unannounced he laughs a little

with how often it happens and him laughing every time you start to think its on purpose

but it's really not he genuinely forgets about it

Killua Zoldyck

he likes scaring you by popping up out of nowhere

uses his assassin stealth to mess with you -_-

instead of just popping up out of nowhere he full on like fnaf jumpscares you

like one time he jumped on top of you from a tree while screaming and you nearly passed out

HE'S SO MEAN

you practically had a heart attack out of fear and he's just ROFL

"HAHA YOU SHOULD'VE SEEN YOUR FACE!"

stupid evil little baby

Kurapika Kurta

he scares you sometimes on accident

he never does it on purpose :(( pls forgive him

he learned to be more careful about your jumpiness, being sure to make some noise when he approaches you

he never tries to get your attention while your back is to him because he knows you'll jump

instead, he would walk around to where you can see him but sometimes even that scares you

he's just naturally a light walker and pretty reserved so it's hard to know when he's approaching

Leorio Paladaknight

he likes trying to scare you but he's actually so bad at it

he couldn't be subtle or stealthy when doing this to safe his life

you notice him 90% of the time before he can strike

but the other 10% he actually manages to get you

and when he does it's because you were probably distracted by/had your attention on someone else

Illumi Zoldyck

he questions why he even hangs around you

you being on edge and jumpy all the time does not benefit him at all

he actually thinks its kind of annoying

every time you jump at his unexpected presence he just looks at you like 😐

does not find it funny when you get scared and he thinks its stupid how easy it is to startle you tbh

Chrollo Lucilfer

he usually doesn't take advantage of your fears but sometimes he just cant help himself but to sneak up on you

he'll come up behind you and grab at your waist with a small "boo"

if your fight or flight response is fight, after the first time he learned to duck out of the way every time he does this

you 100% slapped him across the face on instinct the first time and he learned from that mistake

Feitan Porter

this little shit

he sneaks up on you to see you jump out of your skin

his ass thinks it's funny

and unfortunately for you, he's crazy stealthy so you literally will never be able know when he's coming

he also likes to set up pranks for you too..how charming

he probably puts fake (or real...) spiders in places you're bound to see them just to hear you shreek from the other room

every time he sees/hears your reaction he smirks to himself with a light chuckle what an asshole

sometimes he uses his stealth skills to hide in the shadows then jump out at you to see your reaction up close

It's Black Friday, which means I'm, of course, thinking about Starkid... and I have a theory that the specific order that the LiB are always listed in (Pokotho, Bliklotep, T'noy Karaxis, Nibblephem, Wiggoth Y'Wrath) are, in fact, the order of how powerful they are, from least to greatest.

Let's start with Pokey. Now, on the surface, yeah, being able to completely take over people and turn them into hollow shells that speak your voice may be pretty damn powerful, but I think this actually works to the LiB's detriment. Think back to what Hidgens said, way back in TGWDLM---the existence of the hivemind would result in world peace, because if they're all under one mind, one "Singular Voice," there's nothing to fight about... but the LiB are all about sowing chaos, driving people to ruin. And if Pokey takes over everyone, there's nobody left to mess with. Even Webby outright compares Pokey to the rest of his brothers, which speaks a lot to how they see him---short-sighted, close-minded, and probably a little selfish. (I could also bring up the fact that unlike the others, he seems a lot more serious and even somber in his infliction, tying into his stone-face mask, but that's a whole other thing.) He's also, interestingly enough, one of two LiB who weren't introduced by way of Sniggles---even Nibbly got a little song from two of them after he did his Honey Queen munching---so maybe that means something? Idk.

Blinky definitely seems to have a good deal of power, if the horrors going on in Watcher World are anything to go by, but it also seems kinda... limited. From what we can see (heh), Blinky just operates out of this theme park, and unlike the others? He actually got defeated. Alice and Bill broke out of the effects, flooded Watcher World, and made it out with their bond strengthened rather than broken. Compare this with Pokey succeeding in taking over the world in TGWDLM---even if he failed later in Yellow Jacket---Tinky easily pulling the rug out from Ted's feet in Time Bastard, Nibbly snacking on Linda without so much as a second thought in Honey Queen, and Wiggly fucking starting a nuclear war in Black Friday despite his cult getting defeated and him not actually manifesting, you gotta wonder... what's up with Blinky failing? But I think his human look in NPMD speaks to that---it's a very laid-back look, and I saw someone suggest that he (or she, here, I guess) is trying to emulate the type of teen who's just there to chill, sit back, and watch TV. Maybe Blinky's whole deal is that he's fairly passive, and just wants to watch the chaos happen while he nudges some folks in the right direction. I could be completely wrong, of course.

Now, Tinky as the brother who's smack-dab in the middle actually makes a lot of sense. His domain is time itself---that's nothing to sneeze at! He's incredibly devious, and he always seems to get what he wants! His specialty is driving people insane! But when you look at the fact that he seems a little too chaotic, even for his brothers, and the fact that his eldritch form is, uh... kinda tame, since it's literally just a yellow goat, you have to wonder if Tinky suffers from middle-child syndrome. He's powerful, sure, but he's weird. Either he gets overlooked or he's just there to be along for the ride---I'm just guessing this based on the fact that he had, like two lines in The Summoning, even though he's probably the reason the messed-up timeline in Hatchetfield exists. He's just the crazy middle child, and honestly? That works. Good for him.

Nibbly, I think, is the only LiB (aside from our tentacle boi) who is explicitly stated to be considered "unique," with a power set that automatically puts him on a different level than a lot of his brothers. He's the only one who can regularly manifest in our reality, which makes him the only one who can physically affect the real world---and sure, that means eating pagent winners, but it could also mean a shitton of other things. It's kind of amazing that with his constant hunger and the power to manifest on Earth once a year, he only limits himself to one sacrifice... and maybe that's the point. Maybe the sacrifice only exists because Nibbly used to use that night to cause as much devastation as possible, and he's calmed down since then. Which, uh... yeah, scary thought.

And, yeah, Wiggly is obvious. He's in charge, he makes the decisions, he's always revered over the others---it's pretty clear that he's the most powerful brother, and though everything he does in Black Friday speaks to that, I have a feeling that we don't actually know the extent of Wiggly's true power... and maybe, that's the point. The other LiB get clear-cut domains---control, surveillance, time, and hunger, with not a lot of room for wiggle room, if you'll forgive the pun---but for Wiggly, it's not so obvious. We know that his line in The Summoning is "Wiggly wants his wrath," but it's not just wrath that he preys on. In Black Friday, he uses what people want to become strong, quite literally marketing himself as the solution to all of their problems. In NPMD, he asks Steph, Pete, and Grace for the thing they cherish. He's not just wrath, but greed and desire, and that adds a punch. Also, that extra bit of complexity makes him line up perfectly as a devil figure.

And considering all of this, you have to wonder---where does Webby fall in all of this? Is she stronger than her brothers, and it's just that they outnumber her, or is she weaker? Is she older or younger (this might've been answered, I'm not as caught up on livestream lore as some may be)? Is it just her in the White, or does she have sisters? She's described as "A Queen in White," not "The Queen in White," which points to there maybe being more, but why haven't we seen more? Why is it just Webby fighting against her brothers, and why can't she do more?

*pauses*

Wow. Okay. Jesus, that got away from me.

Anyways, the Hatchetfield saga has super cool horror worldbuilding

Hiiiiiiiii Could I request for a Buddha NSFW alphabet? please? qwp"

the time...has come. I apologize for any kind of mistake or if it's not the best, I tried my best!

Buddha: NSFW Alphabet

A: aftercare <what they're like after sex>

I'm pretty sure this concept isn't too developed in Buddha's mind, I don't think he's the best person for aftercare, but he has his tricks to make you fall at his feet. I can see him offering you some sweets or your favorite snacks stored in the drawer next to your bed. I think Buddha deserved some cuddles, he tried so hard not to eat them!

B: body part <their favourite body part on them and you>

His favorite part of his own body is probably his eyes: Buddha likes the way they allow them to read you like an open book, or your dazed gaze every time you enchant yourself in front of his irises. His ego skyrockets every time it happens and he will never stop teasing you about it. As for which part of your body Buddha prefers, I don't think there is one in particular; he doesn't seem like someone who places too much emphasis on physical appearance. If he loves you, Buddha will love everything about you, without preferences.

C: cum <anything to do with it, really>

I'm pretty sure Buddha lives for cumming in your mouth. He would squeeze your cheeks or pull your hair, seeing how you swallow everything; a grin on his face when you struggle. "Was it sweet, honey? No, no, bad girl...don't talk with your mouth full~"

D: dirty secret <a dirty secret of theirs>

Buddha always had a fantasy involving candy in bed. Let me explain, he would masturbate you with a lollipop, making you lick it and asking you which is tastier, the sweet or you. Buddha would make you cum repeatedly with his tongue, licking you good in all the right spots, feeling the sweet taste of his two favorite snacks, giggling from time to time. You'll need a shower after...you'll be a little sticky-

E: experience <how experienced are they>

Well, Buddha had a wife and children before he set out on his path to enlightenment; so I'd say he has enough experience.

F: favourite position <self-explanatory>

I think the lotus position is the most suitable, because he can hold you close to him, neither of you is in control, you are moving at the same time. It's the right definition of equality and balance, just the way he likes it. Not surprisingly, another position Buddha is crazy about is 69; bring you pleasure with his hot tongue, while he thrusts ruthlessy in your mouth...it's just perfect for him!

G: goofy <would they use humor in the moment?>

It is Buddha we are talking about, it is obvious that he will crack a few jokes here and there. He's not serious AT ALL.

H: hair <how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the courtains?>

The carpet is slightly darker than the curtains. Also, Buddha is not really clean, travels all the time and lives on poverty and good principles. You certainly can't expect too much. I'm not saying he totally stinks, but remind him to wash up once in a while, okay?

I: intimacy <are they romantic in the moment or they do not care?>

Given his character, Buddha is not inclined to bond with anyone, but only with people who manage to catch his attention; as a result, he'll try to make every moment he spends with you special - in his own way. Your sessions are not necessarily long, but very passionate and romantic, full of love and sweet words.

J: jack off <...self-explanatory part 2>

To no one's surprise, he does, but only when he hasn't seen you in a long time. Otherwise, you can rest assured that he will come looking for you at the exact moment he feels aroused.

K: kinks <their kinks>

If there's one important thing for Buddha, it's feeling every part of you, he has to live you deeply. When you make love, Buddha kisses every part of your body and enjoys when you masturbate each other; plus, he has a thing for involving food. Once, he could easily blindfold you, and then cover you entirely with honey, licking and kissing you, mixing the sweetness of that sticky gold with the taste of your fluids.

L: location <where they usually do the do>

Buddha is a person who wants to bring out the best in you, trying to grow the couple, so his favorite time to do it is at night, in the moonlight. When the soft moonlight illuminates your red cheeks and bright eyes, while is hair falls softly on his shoulders, creating a sort of barrier around you two. Also, this boy has a penchant for fucking near water sources, like rivers, lakes, or natural waterfalls.

M: motivation <what turns them on>

How can Buddha resist your tongue and lips sensually enveloping a lollipop? Especially if it's HIS lollipop, which you literally ripped out of his mouth. If anyone else did it, that person would be dead by now, but since it's you...he'll give you another kind of punishment...

N: no <things they refuse to do>

Involving other people in your sex life, he does not feel like it. As I said before, Buddha has to live you and no one else, your relationship is like a small nucleus that no one has the right to intrude; whether it's from a sexual or amorous point of view.

O: oral <do they like giving or receiving?>

He probably has no preferences, however, if someone were to present the choice in front of him, he would prefer to receive. Buddha must see you struggling as he grips your hair, abusing your mouth as he pleases. Buddha hears your gags, moans...everything, and it drives him crazy.

P: pace <are they slow and sensual or fast and rough>

It really depends on his mood, but he takes it easy most of the time. Buddha wants slow and romantic sex, full of passion, as if his every breath was the equivalent of a small part of his heart; but if you want it to go faster, you can straddle him and ride him like there's no tomorrow. He'll enjoy the pleasure, sucking your breasts while you ruin him���️

Q: quickie <would they fuck you for five minutes or wait until you wait home?>

Let's say Buddha prefers to take his time and not act hastily: he wants you both to enjoy the moment, he wants to play it safe and take his time, and, more importantly, he wants to avoid anyone seeing you.

R: risk <...DUH>

To make you happy, but just to listen to you for once, Buddha would be inclined to take risks. But you absolutely choose a safe word and, at the first wrong thing, you stop immediately and cuddle.

S: stamina <how long can they last?>

His rounds are quite long and passionate, so Buddha can go on for a good few hours. I'll say at least 4 or 5 hours.

T: toys <do they own any? do they use them?>

I don't think Buddha has too many toys - also because he doesn't have enough money to buy them - so, I'm sorry but that's a no. However, you could easily involve simple things, like, bandages or bandanas to tie you up.

U: unfair <how much they like to tease>

All right, I say it, Buddha likes it a lot; however, it only does so because it can prepare you better that way. With his teasing, he always makes you nice and wet, ready to welcoming him and his cock.

V: volume <are they asking for a noise complaint, or are they quiet?>

Does he look like he's quite? This one a screamer, not gonna lie! Everyone knows when you are making love, and whoever hears you starts betting on who will moan the most, if you or Buddha. He can't help himself and sees no reason to not moan out of pleasure if he feels good.

W: wild card <a random headcanon☆>

Let's talk about that time you got stucked to the covers. After everything I've told you, you couldn't not expect such an episode. It was among the first times that Buddha had insisted on trying to involve food during one of your sessions, in particular, a mix between honey and caramel was created. You got attached to the bedsheets. Buddha laughed. That mix was never used again.

X: x-ray <what to they look like under there?>

Well, the size is average, it's neither too big nor too small, and it's perfectly straight. The base is slightly wider. The tip color is #e8a497. Oh, and it's a bit hairy!

Y: yearning <are they in the mood to fuck or are they tame?>

Buddha is very lazy, you have to stimulate him, always looking for interesting ways to make him lose his mind. You could play brat, that might get his attention...why don't you steal his snacks? That's a good idea!

Z: zzz <how quickly they fall asleep afterwards>

Pretty fast asleep, but he doesn't fall asleep until he's sure you're safe. So expect to find yourself sleeping on his chest where he can feel you close.

lovesick girl (to err is to love drabble)

synopsis: before the heartwrench of divorce, there was a time in your youth when jungkook was everything to you. you would do anything for him- you were lovesick girl.

word count: 2k

pairing: to err is to love jungkook! x reader (AGED DOWN TO COLLEGE FRESHMEN😵) rich!jk x shy!reader

warnings: SUGGEStiVE?? not really but kinda?!?!? not explicit at all tho. jungkook pulls her bikini string on ACCIDENT (?) MENTIONS OF TOE EATING?!?!?

Before the heartwrench of divorce, the devastation of postpartum, and the bitter aftertaste of having your heart utterly destroyed, there was a time where Jeon Jungkook was absolutely everything to you.

The brief period of time during your undergraduate years where your brain and heart constantly craved his presence, his touch, and his fulfillment.

The brief period of time where Jungkook rendered you into nothing but a dumb girl whose mind and thoughts were only permeated with his essence.

That boy could have told you to jump off a cliff with him and you would have gladly followed his trail because nothing would ever sufficiently describe the way he made you feel- it would never be enough, ever.

Nothing could describe the exhilaration that rushed through your veins, the way he set your heart ablaze and melted you completely.

Before he came around, you weren't an impulsive individual by any means.

All of the reasons listed above were why you followed him around like a lovesick girl- which is also why you allowed him to convince you into participating in some very illegal activity. All it took was one casual look of indifference and a cocky tilt of his head to put you under his spell.

Luckily, Jungkook is currently right next to you, snoring and drooling his head off on the couch. As you recall this very vivid (and traumatizing!) memory, you swat his arm harshly, causing him to jolt awake, eyes oscillating around the living room.

"What happened?" he queries, dazed and confused.

You simply huff, rolling your eyes and shaking your head while you pull yourself deeper into this specific memory.

You close your eyes and suddenly you're twenty years old again, letting Jungkook drive you to some random ass mountain in the middle of nowhere.

It's the way he keeps his grip on your thigh while his eyes are trained on the road- he wants to keep his hands on you but he also wants to make sure that he gets you to Point B safely.

It's the way he doesn't even call you your own name anymore- only refers to you as baby, and you wouldn't have it any other way. You love being his baby.

It's the way he sweetly gives you his large hoodie before you get into his car. He surprised you with this mini trip and wanted to make sure you were cozy since you were only in a crop top and shorts when you met him outside your dorm.

He is so dreamy and makes you so weak in the knees- which is exactly why you’re now allowing him to lead you through a maze of trees and bushes at some undisclosed location… at 3:47 in the morning. 

Had there been some rational third party present, they probably would have told you to be more cautious considering you’re in the middle of nowhere… in the middle of the night… with someone who can easily physically overpower you. (murder you, and hide your body!!!)

However, you’ve never felt more comfortable or safe in your life. Your boyfriend is so so sweet, tends to your every need as he tightly holds onto your hand and rubs circles into your skin.

Leading you along this poorly cleared trail, he pauses and looks back at you, a haze of concern on his face. “Baby, are you sure you aren’t too cold? I can give you my jacket if you want,” he suggests. 

You shake your head, using one of your jacket paws to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You already gave me this one. I promise I’m okay,” you offer him a smile that makes him want to kiss you all over. 

You’re standing there with a face free of makeup, his oversized hoodie adorned over your smaller frame, and he can’t believe how beautiful you are. The luminescence of the moonlight shines down on your face, accentuating your natural glow, making you all the more ethereal. He can’t believe you agreed to date an asshole like him. 

He bites back the goofiest of grins. “Okay baby, promise you we’re almost there. You’re doing so good,” he adds as he continues to lead you along the rocky path. 

After a few more minutes of walking, you’re able to perceive the silhouette of a large and luxurious hotel building from the distance. You should have figured. Your boyfriend who happens to be a hotel heir often sneaks you into his father’s hotels.

“Is that one of the new hotels your dad is constructing?”

“Yup,” he replies with a pop on the p, “Construction team finished it yesterday- wanted to come here with you before anyone else can enjoy it,” He sends you a cheeky grin while brushing his vacant hand through his hair. 

And as thrilled as you are to enjoy a luxury and private hotel room with your boyfriend, a hint of wariness plagues your mind, and you use both hands to tug him towards you. “Are you sure we’re allowed to? I don’t want you to get in trouble or anything.”

He softens at your concern and uses his large hands to cup your cheeks before placing a gentle kiss on your pouty lips. “Baby, trust me. I got you. Nothing will happen,” the tenderness in his voice simmers you, and with rosy cheeks you peer down at your feet. 

“Don’t worry about anything and focus on me,” he adds with his sachrine voice, using his pointer finger to tilt your head upward. His eyes gloss down to where your lips are quivering, and he finds himself licking his own lips. This boy is so handsome and he makes you flush completely- you just can’t believe how dreamy he is. 

“O-okay,” you sheepishly respond, a haze of reluctance etched on your face. “... Let’s go because I’m getting a little cold,” you add hesitantly.  

He pouts and inches closer, palms creeping under your hoodie so he can use the heat of his palms to soothingly rub the outline of your waist. Fingers gently digging into the fat around your waist, he pulls you closer and whispers into your neck. “Want me to carry you?” 

When he starts sucking wet kisses on the expense of your neck, you release a shaky sigh, body trembling from the stimulation. Squeezing your eyes shut, you nod, and that prompts him to hold you tighter to his body.

“Y-you sure I won’t be too heavy though?” you squeak out.

He draws back and pauses, handsome features morphing into the most incredulous look you’ve seen from him. His neatly trimmed eyebrows (courtesy of you!) furrow and his lips form a small scowl. 

And just like that, you’re thrown over his shoulder with a rough smack on your ass. 

“Jungkook!” you squeal, and he just laughs while basking in the pleasure of your giggles. 

He casually marches along the trail, speaking to you like you’re walking next to him, paying no heed that he’s carrying you like a sack of fertilizer. He hikes up a small hill before finally setting you down in front of him. 

Jungkook swivels you around so your back presses against his front. He rests his chin on top of your head while his arms sneak around the expanse of your shoulders.

“Jungkook, the view is gorgeous.”

And indeed it is. Jungkook’s father has done a simply marvelous job constructing this monster of a luxury hotel. Jungkook’s taken you to a few of Jeon Estates’ other hotels- ones you were utterly amazed by- but they waver in comparison with this one. 

The hotel is located at the top of the mountain, providing guests with a marvelous view of the  city below. The city lights are twinkling like stars in the night sky, and you’re sure that if you turned around and looked at Jungkook, you’d see the reflection of the sparkling city in his doe eyes. 

Jungkook has taken you to an infinity pool that resides in the backyard of one of the private suites. The water spills into an equally luxurious basin on the ledge of a mountain. A huge modern waterfall cascades into the pool making it all the more opulent. What really tops it off is LED lights that illuminate the pool with a plethora of colors.

It all seems so honeymoon- intimate and romantic.

You twirl around, tiptoeing to sweetly kiss him. You love kissing him with no hands, your arms resting behind your back. Jungkook returns the kiss with equal fervor, using his hands to cup your cheeks while sneaking his tongue into your mouth. 

When he pulls away, he leaves you starry eyed and dazed. He leans down one last time to kiss you, his lips magnetized to yours while he walks backwards to the pool. His lips leave yours for a slight second to throw off his shirt before he reconnects his body to yours. 

After your little makeout session is finally over, he turns around to gaze at the city lights. You take the opportunity to embrace him from behind so you can press butterfly kisses against outline of his back muscles.

“Wanna get in now?” he softly proposes. 

You bite back a giggle. “Sure.”

And you push him into the pool, taking a step back to avoid the splashback from your huge boyfriend. 

Emerging from the water, he uses his palms to wipe his face and throws his head back to get his hair from obstructing his view.  “Baby, that was mean,” he complains, frowning at you.

“Sorry,” you respond with the utmost insincerity. You’re about to throw your (his) hoodie off and join him until you realize what you’re wearing underneath the hoodie. A flush creeps onto your cheeks when you recall what happened preceding your little escapade. 

boyfriend: hey baby wyd saturday??

you: nothing much, what’s up? wanna come over?

boyfriend: i have another idea, ill pick u up at 10:30 on friday, just wear a swimsuit under your clothes <3333

Obviously you wanted to impress the guy, so after consulting your friends on the matter, you went to the mall and bought the skimpiest bikini you could find. The fabric of the black triangle bikini  barely covers chest, let alone the rest of your body. Initially you were so confident that you’d be able to woo him (and ensure that he’d never love another girl ever again), but now that it's actually happening, you're definitely panicking.

You hesitantly take off your oversized hoodie and trudge over to place it next to Jungkook’s shirt. When you look back at Jungkook, he’s gawking at you- this boy can’t control his reaction at all. 

You blink back at him before he breaks his silence. 

“Baby please get in. I want to feel your skin."

“Jungkook, 'm shy.”

“What?” He steps onto the ledge in the pool, water dripping from the crevices on his body, and offers you his hand. “It's just me- promise you're always safe with me."

You take his hand and allow him to guide you into the pool. Once finally settled in, you wrap your legs around his torso and your arms around his neck like a koala. Feeling him skin to skin is so nice- his skin is so soft and his body heat comforts you all the more.

You place a hand on his cheek, admiring his handsome facial features. You’re so drawn to everything about this boy. The moles on his cheeks, the structure of his nose; you even love how the texture of his skin feels against your hand. His cheeks are soft- not coarse in the slightest, but his cheeks are also tough and strong, not stretchy by any means. The juxtaposition of his skin reminds you that he's the sweetest boy, but also your big tough boyfriend. 

“You like what you see that much?” he teases, and instead of a verbal response, you place a soft kiss on his cheek.

-

Now you’re sat on the pool ledge. Jungkook’s hands are rested on that same ledge, but on each side of your thighs. Propping himself up with his big biceps, he kicks against the water so he can stay afloat horizontally. 

“I just hate that I didn’t have the courage to tell her to redo her part. It doesn’t feel fair that we got the same grade when her part was literal dookie,” you vent, huffing in vexation.

He stands vertically in the pool, his hands moving to rub up and down the expanse of your thighs. “Baby I feel like you should think about the bigger picture. Let’s say you tell her that her part was dookie and ask her to redo it. You make her a little upset. What’s she gonna do? She can cry about it and I wouldn’t give a shit. Would you give a shit?”

“Yes I would,” you articulate playfully. “I don’t want to be mean or make anyone cry.”

“Oh, my bad,” Jungkook jokes with a roll of his eyes. His hands wrap around your ankles before he uses his fingers to rub circles into your feet. “Forgot you were an angel- what if I just bit your toe off?” Him being distracted by your toes elicits a burst of giggles and you squirm from his strong grip.

He brings your manicured toes towards his mouth, pretending to take a huge chomp out of your foot before you gently kick his chest. 

Giggling at your reaction, he returns to the issue at hand. “But baby, you also need to establish boundaries with people you work with. I don’t like the idea of people taking advantage you,” he explains thoughtfully, like he wasn’t just talking about biting your toes off. 

You pout at his sincerity and cup his cheeks, squeezing them together to make his lips pouty. “Thank you baby. You’re so sweet. How’s that research project with Hobi going, by the way?”

Jungkook removes your hands from his cheeks and sits next to you on the seat in the pool.

He picks you up and places you between his legs, letting you rest against his warm body. “It’s going good baby, thank you for asking. I’m not gonna lie though, interviewing everybody is taking way too fucking long- we should’ve done an online poll or something instead,” he explains with a sharp sigh.

“Do you want me to help? Three people doing interviews would help it go faster,” you insist. 

“Honestly, we need the help,” he responds, “I wouldn’t want to burden you with that responsibility, though.”

“Not even,” you dismiss the notion with a little giggle. “I would do anything to relieve my baby boy’s stress.”

Jungkook sputters out laughter at baby boy, before lowering his head to nip at your cheek in retaliation.

“Just text me when you need me,” you insist, ignoring Jungkook trying to eat your cheek.

You would do anything for him.

-

Moments later, you’ve found yourself on Jungkook’s lap, straddling him while he holds your hips against his body. His hands are wandering all over the expanse of your body, the bikini practically leaving nothing to the imagination.

He’s kissing you sweetly and slowly- loves to take his sweet time with you. He’s convinced that no other girl will ever make him feel the way that you do, like he’s on Cloud 9 and ascending to heaven at the same time. 

You’re more than eagerly kissing him back, sneaking your tongue into his mouth with fervor that he can’t help but reciprocate if you’re the one initiating it.

You see, he’s always been careful not to overstep boundaries or do anything to make you uncomfortable. Obviously, he wants you- he wants you so bad- but he respects you all the more and doesn’t want to rush anything. 

But now that you’re blissfully sighing into his mouth and clinging to his body, he can’t help but melt into you. 

His fingers sneak to your bikini top, not even realizing what he was doing until-

“Hey! Who’s in there?! You're trespassing private property of Jeon Estates!” a deep and loud voice pulls the two of you apart, and Jungkook’s hands swiftly latch onto your body so he can position you behind his larger frame. “Baby, baby, baby, tie your swimsuit back on and stay behind me- accidently untied it- I'm sorry. ” he directs with a sense of urgency. 

He feels awful. He just promised you nothing was going to happen, and something happened.

Not to mention the fact that you were extremely vulnerable in his lap, and that he nearly exposed you to some outsider. He hates the idea of another man seeing you like that so much and he hates it even more that he’s the one who put you in that position. 

Two security guards with flashlights approach you and Jungkook before one of them releases a familiar groan. “For fuck’s sakes- Randy, it’s the Jeon kid.”

The other security guard grumbles something incoherently before waving it off and returning to his post.  

“Don’t tell my dad about this, please,” Jungkook enunciates pleadingly, still shielding you from the officer’s view.

“Kid, I’m just a security guard- I don’t even think my boss has connections with the CEO. Just run home because we don’t want your -um- germs in the pool before the guests arrive,” the officer grumbles. 

You squeak at his words, and Jungkook clears his throat hesitatingly. “Thank you so much,” Jungkook responds, “Swear I’ll give you a huge bonus once I take over the company.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” the officer mumbles before turning around and returning to his post. 

Once the officer is out of sight, Jungkook turns around to face you. You’re crouched behind him, bikini top tied back on, and you’re hiding the face in the water.

He embraces you tightly. “I’m so sorry baby.”

“D-did he see me?”

A little dazed by the situation, Jungkook takes a moment to comprehend your question and respond. “No. Of course not. I’d never let anyone see you like that.”

You hold him tighter to your body and squeeze him as if he could disappear at any moment. You’ve never done anything this rebellious and that encounter with the security guard terrified you. 

Jungkook understands completely, like he always does. He’s your other half and understands your words, body language, and actions always. He guides you out of the pool and pulls his hoodie over your body, holding your hand just as tightly as before as he leads you back down that trail and to his car. 

You're pulled from the memory by one of your kids, Haru who is bouncing up and down in front of you. "Mommy? Mommy? Wake up!" he exclaims.

You shake your head to pull you from the daze. "Yes baby? I'm here."

Hina, your daughter who is at the dining table with her father sends you a quizzical look. "Mommy what were you thinking about? You were staring at the Paw Patrol table for like- hours!"

"I was just thinking that your father is a very bad guy," you nonchalantly explain, eliciting a gasp from a very clueless Jungkook.

"What did I do?!"

POISON- Ep. 4 Analysis

I have no idea if someone has already done something like this but these two unfortunate souls have been in my mind since I watched the show TWO WEEKS AGO. So I'm gonna share with you this personal analysis of what we saw during the Poison scene in Ep. 4 of Hazbin Hotel.

Again, I don’t know if anyone has already talked about this (I’m not very active on tumblr), but I think that what we see as Angel sings Poison is made not only to tell us how the relationship Angel has with Valentino is but ALSO how it came to be thanks to everything that's happening on screen while he's singing.

Of course the lyrics are also important so I’ll make some reference to those as well, but I’ll focus mainly on what we see. Since I can only add 30 pics in this post this will be a bit difficult but I will try my best.

SOME CONTENT WARNINGS! I'm not sure if this is even necessary but anyways,,, Pychological abuse, abuse, violence, domestic violence, drugs, addiction, sex work, dubius consent, sexual violence, abusive relationship, unhealthy power dynamics, angst, suicidal ideas (hinted), etc.

Now, without further ado, let's begin!

Before the song, Valentino and Angel have a fight in his dressing room. I want to start here because during that fight Angel gets a black eye and we get to see how the walls of his room are filled, not only by security cameras, but also by a lot of eyes that follow Angel wherever he goes inside the room. We will see more of these eyes soon enough.

After that fight Angel sends Charlie back home and we see a bit more of what we could expect from Valentino with his manipulation tactics. The sweet tone and the praise as he embraces Angel from behind, too close and too intimate considering he will be soon forcing him to go back to work.

These are the tricks every abuser uses to manipulate and control the people around them, and it’s what Valentino uses all the time with Angel.

This is the behavior of an abusive boyfriend, a dynamic they have in the present, but once Poison starts, we are presented with their backstory. Now we will get to see how that dynamic is even possible, how these two ended up together and how their relationship started and evolved.

Valentino sits next to the movie director and everyone starts moving to prepare the scene they are about to film. He is the one in control here, the one calling for action again and deciding who does what and when. And just like that we see how Angel's black eye is concealed by makeup, erasing the marks of what had just happened and metaphorically erasing the violence of the relationship he is in now.

Angel closes his eyes in displeasure, focusing on what Valentino wants from him. When he opens his eyes again, his expression is completely different, this Angel without bruises, is not only a version of him from minutes ago, before the fight with Val, or even prior to the abuse… This is the Angel before Valentino.

He walks backwards, as if he was going back in time, moving easily with the playful shamelessness that characterized him back then. When he sings “I’m not above a love to cash in” he was most likely referring to his past as a sex worker or at least, as someone who didn’t mind to sell his affections to get what he needed/wanted. During this time, he would most likely go clubbing every night, since it offered a good way to earn easy money while he had a great time, partying, drinking, consuming…

Angel probably was the type of person who used those who desired him to get whatever he wanted, a game he knew how to play. Even if it could get risky or inconvenient, he was a free soul, he was still in control of what he did or didn't do with all those people, so at the end of the day, he always won. That’s what he believes as he playfully lays back on the setting’s bed again.

That had always been true after all, or at least it was until he came across someone that beated him at his own game. Someone who would take that freedom and control over his own body away from him.

His expression changes again to one of terror when a shadow looms over his body from outside the frame. That’s the silhouette of the men he was previously filming with, but we can also imagine that this figure suddenly changing the way he moves, reacts and feels, was meant to represent Valentino.

After the other actors surround him, and the scene fades to black, we are shown what could have been Angel's previous workplace. A stripclub where he danced for money and probably engaged in sex work in a somewhat safe and controlled environment. Back then he had become popular enough to be "the star" of his own show, and a performer good enough to get a reputation that would eventually reach the ears of one of the most powerful overlords in that district.

Valentino discovered him maybe by chance, or maybe not. Maybe he had heard of Angel Dust and wanted to see for himself if this dancer was as good and pretty as all those people said. And after watching him perform Valentino was the furthest from disappointed, he had enjoyed the show so much that he decided to take a closer look at this Angel Dust’s skills.

He approaches him, maybe as a client, or maybe just as a guy interested in what he had to offer, and although Angel doesn't trust him at first, he ends up entering his game.

He was just another man who wanted to fuck him, one that had enough money to spoil him all he had ever wanted and more. It was quite the opportunity for someone as low in the food chain as him, and Angel had already played with rich men like Valentino before, he knew what he was doing.

So Angel took the bait, and had sex with Valentino. Probably a blowjob in that same club he danced at that served as a test for Valentino.

Now we have a scene with two Valentinos, one that is about to get head from Angel with a video camera on his hand, and another Val standing behind the cameras and lights of what we now know to be another movie set. The first Val we saw, extending his hand before Angel when he finished his performance, was the Val of his past, the one he sucked off the night they met. That was someone Angel thought to be somewhat honest, or, at the very least a man he heavily underestimated.

It's the playful man that winks seductively at him in the set from afar with those red hot eyes he fell for, the same that quickly turns into a different guy with similar clothes (red jacket and white fur) now recording him on set. Someone who quickly became a stranger to Angel, just as he is for us, since we can’t even see his face.

The second Val it's the real one, the one standing next to the movie director watching everything with calculating eyes and a dangerous smile. That's the man who told Angel all those red hot lies he believed to be true, and the one judging with this first meeting if the spider was a worthy investment or not.

Angel proves to be good enough. Valentino likes him, and after that night he starts to actively pursue Angel but he didn’t do that as a simple client. He can tell Angel isn't a common whore, he has talent, charisma and he's been playing this game for long enough to know all the tricks. One can only become so successful in this world knowing how to play their cards well.

It’s obvious then what he has to do to turn Angel into his next movie star. Valentino needs to make him fall in love with him and make him believe that Valentino can love him just as much. This is exactly what he is going to do.

On screen we see how Valentino's sex pollen (he's a moth guys, it has to be sex pollen) starts to fill the scene, and as it expands it engulfs Angel, making us know just how captivated, how absorbed he will end up being.

Note: I know there’s a theory that says that Valentino’s power comes from his saliva or something like that and I haven’t read it or anything, but I do believe the smoke/fog that surrounds him has the same effect as the “sex pollen” trope. Or at least it’s similar.

The red fog expands all over the frame, emphasizing Valentino’s overpowering skills and charisma. When it clears, we see Angel in a different place while he sings the second line of the lyrics “What’s the worst part of this hell, I can only blame myself”.

His expression is one of pure anguish and regret, and he’s saying this while standing in front of Valentino in his apartment. He's talking about how naive he was for believing all of Valentino's lies, to truly believe that what he felt for Angel was love. He blames himself for buying this love story and falling for him so hard it made him very easy to manipulate. He regrets not having seen it before it was too late.

Because when Valentino’s back appears at the left corner of the frame, with an extended hand and smoke-made chains, it’s Angel the one who finally cuts the distance and accepts the chains Val is offering him.

Angel was too blinded by Valentino’s courting, by his sweet words and lovely gestures, but also by the constant push and pull of their dynamic, the flirting, the teases, the seduction. He loved the attention and he loved the sense of control, of power, he could feel when he was with Valentino, an overlord no less, a demon so rich and powerful he could have anyone he could have ever wanted. But Val had chosen him, him of all people.

This brief initial moment represents the regret he feels when he remembers how it all started, when Angel thinks about the beginning of their relationship, a time when everything seemed fine and their sexual chemistry made him lose all sense of reason. Because with Val everything ended up leading him to his bed.

After this short display of regret, we are presented a sequence made to represent the fantasy Angel indulged himself in, an illusion tinted in pink colors and fun costumes. This is the story Valentino had carefully created for him to make him fall in love with him, a story that made the spider feel so good when he was by his side, he could easily excuse any warning sign in his sight.

Because Angel would obviously want to be with Valentino when all he knew about him was his lover persona, a facade that portrayed him as a passionate lover and playful partner, his (soon to be) poison.

They had fun and even when Valentino showed little fragments of his true intentions and personality, Angel was too blinded to notice that he was starting to lose the very game he had considered himself a master of. Valentino and the relationship Angel had with him was addictive, so it didn't matter what happened, Angel always came back. You can think of this as the result of Valentino’s sex pollen, his charisma or a combination of both, depending on what flavor of angst is your favorite.

What we can know for sure, is that they were both performers in their own ways, both players in the game of love, so Angel could have excused and normalized a lot of things he shouldn't have. Knowing their line of work, of course that they could get a bit too intense every now and then, of course things could get a bit out of hand between them, they were just sooo dramatic.

It was that rollercoaster of emotions, the raw intensity of it all what ended up hooking Angel so much. The playfulness that could get a bit dangerous really fast, even if the Valentino he thought he knew would never really hurt him. Right?

A few little details I like about this sequence are the way we get to see Valentino’s home in the background and how the colors of his clothes and body are darker than usual but still lighter in comparison to what we will see in the following scenes, indicating how this was still the “nice” version of Valentino.

In the same way, Angel is playing with the chains bounding his wrists together, not his neck (yet), telling us that he’s playing with fire, quite literally dancing with the idea of being owned by Val, but he is still a free soul. In this moment he was falling hard and quick for Valentino’s lies, but he wasn’t his captive yet.

He’s having fun while being manhandled by Valentino, both physically and emotionally, but he still thinks of it as a game, another part of their sex life and how they naturally work as a couple. It’s exciting, it’s new and Angel loves it.

Not knowing that the longer he stays the more power is giving Val over him. Valentino is starting to show his true colors, in these last frames we can see that his figure is getting darker as Angel is slowly discovering the manipulative side of Val, the controlling and abusive nature he had been hiding from the spider since the beginning.

The push and pull continues as we see their silhouettes dancing, even if in reality this is Valentino pulling from his side of the chain to keep Angel close, to keep him with him.

After the shadows sequence, we get back to the playfulness Angel had shown when he took the chains for himself and started to tease Valentino. Only that this time, Val’s colors are darker and his touch more possessive, more aggressive. He’s groping him and even choking him while Angel sings “I made my choice and every night I’m living like there’s no tomorrow” with a grin, showing us how this was still a game for him.

He made his choice staying with Val because he loved him and he thought he was loved in return, when the moth had been only toying with him from the moment they first saw each other. This is Angel’s greatest regret, the fact that he truly believed Val’s lies, that despite all the warning signs he kept choosing him over and over again.

Choosing to stay, to kneel before Val, to obey him with the promise of a new wave of pleasure, a new high. Just as Valentino wanted him to do as we can see the vicious smile he wears during this entire sequence.

I think the next couple of seconds tells us how, for a while, they were together and Angel was still able to keep his job at the club. He was still allowed to see his friends (his coworkers most likely) and spend time with them, while Valentino made sure to feed all his previous bad habits and addictions, giving him gifts (we know Fat Nuggets was a gift from Val), a lot of money he could spend on a whim and eventually, probably the substances to use as well.

The smile on his face, the smugness of it, makes me think he’s telling his friends about this rich guy that pampers him in every way and treats him like a prince. He has found the ultimate Sugar Daddy, a man that has changed his life forever in the best way possible. Now he can have whatever he wants, party for days without having to worry about not having enough money to eat at the end of the month or a place to stay.

Angel would have used drugs before, maybe occasionally, maybe only at parties, maybe to get the worst bits of his job done, maybe he was already a bit of an addict, but it’s now, when he has the means to consume every night that he definitely becomes one.

Valentino made sure of it.

During this time, Valentino would secure the control he had over Angel, weakening his mind and will by worsening his addiction problem while continuing convincing him of how much he loved him. The parties were incredible, the sex was amazing, and Angel felt on top of the world at every moment. He was “living like there’s no tomorrow” without realizing the higher he raised above the ground, the hardest would be his fall.

And maybe this is just me over analyzing a kinky moment, but after this, after Valentino bites Angel causing him a wince of pain and maybe even making him bleed, everything changes.

They are having sex, far from the flashing lights, they are together as Anthony and Val, as the real person who oftenly hides behind his stage persona. The person who is deeply in love with Valentino, who is vulnerable and allows his lover to hurt him however he wants because he trusts that the pleasure that follows will be worth it.

But after that bite, he’s no longer in bed with Val, he's in the same bed from the very beginning of this music video, surrounded by lights, disoriented and confused… As if he was expecting Valentino to be between his legs and not this stranger.

When he finally comes to his senses and sits, we hear for the first time the line “My story’s gonna end with me dead from your poison”. This was the beginning of the end of their honeymoon phase and the point of no return. Valentino had considered Angel weakened enough to take a step further, and a new part of him is finally uncovered when he carefully introduces Angel to the porn industry. He would do so (probably) while Angel was too intoxicated and definitely too blindly in love to know what he was doing.

Valentino becomes this overwhelming shadow that covers Angel’s body, a silhouette he can’t escape from, and when we are shown what Angel sees, we can no longer see the color of Valentino’s clothes. His colorful persona, his facade of playful lover it’s no longer in place, he has stopped pretending and acting as the good boyfriend the spider had always wanted. Now before Angel there’s only the demon that owns thousands of souls, a vicious drooling smile and sharp red eyes. An overlord to fear and be intimidated by.

The background is filled with filming equipment, and even if Valentino’s body language is meant to appear welcoming, Angel feels terrified. This is not the Valentino he knew, and now he is completely trapped. He can’t refuse now, this is a choice he is being forced to make even if his soul still technically belongs to him.

After being pressured, Angel becomes part of this industry, and although he doesn’t really like it, he still trusts Valentino enough to not run away. The overlord can be scary, but he still believes that he’s safe with him, that if Val is by his side nothing wrong could ever happen to him. And after all, he had done sex work before, right? What difference did it make to fuck strangers for money in front of a camera now?

He’s not comfortable, and every day that intimidating side of Valentino that wasn’t really there before grows darker, fiercer and scarier. Angel had seen the ugliness of Valentino before, as a man, as a possessive boyfriend, as a controlling partner, but never as the powerful demon he truly was. So he still obeys Val and features in a few movies of his choice.

We can see these doubts, Angel’s discomfort and even a bit of his trust in Valentino at the beginning of the next sequence, when they appear on the set of a different movie.

Angel was a performer, he had faked his own pleasure before, he could do it again now, and he could do it while earning way more money. He could do so, because he knew Valentino was there, guiding him, helping him, making sure his lover was safe. He always thought that Val was looking out for him, making sure he was getting the right roles in the right movies, the right contracts, and when he was nervous, Valentino was right by his side to comfort him.

But Valentino had never cared about Angel’s safety. And once Angel started to voice his doubts or show his discomfort, he made sure he couldn’t do it for much longer. The comfort Angel sought for was quickly replaced by something chemical, something that eased his nerves but also left him dazed and disoriented.

It was then that Valentino drugged him, tricked him and made him sign the contract that would leave him with only half a soul inside his chest.

Valentino had fed Angel’s addiction for a long time, adding to the mix not only the illusion of a love story, but also his own drug, his sex pollen, something that numbed the spider’s mind enough to go through all the things Valentino wanted him to do in front of the camera. Oftenly Angel was left too intoxicated to respond, too vulnerable and weak. In his last moments of lucidity he always could see Valentino, his lover, the man he thought would always take care of him, turning his back to him and leave him.

Valentino is the last thing he sees before everything fades to black around him, before he disappears. He’s no longer Anthony or Angel Dust, the stage persona, now the lines between those two different identities blurry beyond repair, and the person he becomes is a little more Angel Dust and a lot less Anthony.

I don’t think that it was just a coincidence that they used a BDSM scene to represent the moment Angel definitely lost control of his actions, his body and most likely also his soul. BDSM is all about power dynamics and the control that’s exchanged between consenting partners, only that, in this case, Angel didn’t really have a choice and there was no consent. This lack of control and safety is emphasized precisely by the type of session Angel is forced into.

He’s restrained in every way possible, he’s tied up, a blindfold covers his eyes and a gag is forced onto his mouth, one that would prevent him from closing it no matter how much he tried. He has no way to end the scene, no way to say a safeword, to complain or to stop what other people do with him or to him.

This is meant to represent the moment he signed the contract, and how he felt every time he entered the set of a new movie after he signed it. He stopped being his own person, he had disappeared, and what had been left of him was nothing but a sex toy for Valentino to control in each of his productions.

Now we see the Angel Dust that survived this state of numbness and dissociation, the one that has consumed Anthony just so he could keep himself alive.

While Angel Dust dances, seemingly enjoying the show, performing as he has always done, in the background screens we see what’s left of Anthony, of the boy feeling trapped and used with no single way out of it. This is accompanied by more fragments of that BDSM scene that changed it all, since that was a traumatic event that repeats itself in Angel’s mind every time Valentino forces him into a new role, a new movie, a new lie.

These frames show us not only the stress Angel is feeling, but also how Valentino is always there to exploit his body in the way he deems more profitable. We know this because he appears in between Angel’s anguish, but also because the same eyes that covered his dressing room walls are in the background while someone fucks Angel from behind.

While this happens we hear again “I made my choice”, a reminder of Angel’s regrets, shame and guilt. In addition the line “Every night I’m living like there’s no tomorrow” now has slightly changed, indicating the shift in Angel’s life and condition as no longer a free soul. What we hear now is  “Every night I’m wasted like there’s no tomorrow”.

Where once he was happy, he’s now desperate, begging to get a way out.

We see a bit more of the playful performer, Angel Dust, and the pain of Anthony in the background before Valentino approaches him again like a great imposing figure, putting an end to his show.

The second Angel notices Valentino, distress becomes clear all over his face. He points to the left, outside of what we can see, and when he tries to escape, Valentino grabs him and pulls him closer.

He has finally come face to face with the real Valentino in all his twisted glory and he wants to run away. He knows now that what they had wasn’t love, it had never been, and it’s painful. But he’s afraid of Valentino, he can’t do anything to escape his contract and he now belongs to him (at least while they’re on set).

That last frame with Valentino embracing him, a vicious smile on his face in contrast with Angel’s terrified expression puts an end to their story, to the narration of how they came to be what they are now. After that, we are presented to the aftermath, the Angel that’s no longer intoxicated by his poison and can only dread the many past choices he would like to change.

He is now fully aware that there’s no way out of his hell, that for as long as he is alive he will be Valentino’s toy. He’s destroyed in every way, his mind is a mess too dependent on the drugs Valentino has been feeding him to properly think, and his body has stopped to feel as his own a long time ago.

How could he consider that pile of bones, fur and chemically loosen up muscles as his own? He’s disgusted, drowning in this feeling of helplessness.

And he’s even more grossed out when he notices the remains of Valentino’s poison, his drug, still lingering on his tongue. He’s so lost, he doesn’t even recognize himself. This is not where he was supposed to be, he shouldn’t be in Valentino’s apartment, he doesn’t want to be there anymore.

The substance that once had brought him so much joy, such a delicious bliss, now slips past his lips burning his skin like acid. The itch reminds him of the reason why he’s there, and he can only feel pain. The only cause for most of his problems had always been his addiction. To Val, the sex they had, his poison, the drugs he bought for him…

No matter how hard he tries to get used to this life he has with Val now, he simply can’t do it. It doesn’t matter how many movies he appears in, they are never enough, they will never be enough for the overlord. Because he’s nothing but a tool to make Valentino and the other Vs even richer and more powerful.

That’s Valentino’s business and what initially made him get close to Vox. They complimented each other and together they felt capable of ruling Hell like that was their birthright. A power Angel would never get to know firsthand, because for Valentino he was nothing but another whore to use, exploit and eventually discard.

Angel is sick of it, is tired of living a life he hates, a lonely life full of pain and abuse, all caused by the person he loved the most.

He has spent years trapped in the V Tower, watched by the countless cameras placed in every wall and every corner of his prison. Even when he’s not on set, controlled by Valentino and his team, he feels Vox lenses following all of his movements, and despite the luxury he lives in, every day he goes to sleep wishing to never wake up.

That's all, folks. I hope you liked it, or at least got as sad as I felt while analyzing this. Again this is all what I could understand from that segment of the episode I don't know if y'all already knew this but I did wanted to share it. If you liked this check my bird app account bc there is where I spend most of my online time or my Ao3 profile, although I post mostly Skfs content now <3

An Absolute Pinecone

Request: 2,7,8 vernon?

Prompt:

2) "Don't look at them. Look at me."

7) "We really need to stop meeting like this."

8) "I saw you looking at it last time we were in the store together, so I got it for you."

Pairing: Seventeen Vernon x Reader

Genre: Fluff

.

Taking a deep breath, you shouldered your way into the crowded restaurant. There was no special occasion to celebrate, no person you were going to meet for a few drinks. It was just you and your endless thoughts driving you toward some form of comfort.

The restaurant had been your favorite before, and it was still allowed to be your favorite after. Just because you dragged some guy you were dating here nearly every weekend he had off, didn't mean the place was tainted now. He probably didn't even remember where it was, let alone that they had a pork nurungji gangjeong that he was obsessed with.

Big, stupid, dumb boy who definitely didn't trash your heart and totally understood every reason you gave for breaking up.

Navigating toward the host stand, you took a place in line and crossed your arms. Normally you made reservations for a place so popular, but today, you had every intention of perching yourself at the bar and having a dinner for one.

"You know, we really need to stop meeting like this," a familiar voice chimed behind you.

You closed your eyes and attempted to stifle the groan forming in the back of your throat. Why was he here?

"Hey," you managed, turning around.

Hansol Vernon Chwe.

You couldn't help it as your eyes roamed over his body. It was infuriating how someone who could make you feel so bad could simultaneously look so good.

Your relationship has begun to fall apart only a few weeks ago. It originally seemed like the two of you were a good fit. He was one of the goofiest people you had ever met and was so authentically Vernon. He knew how to make you laugh and even better, knew how to laugh at himself.

The two of you managed to live in the bubble of your own world for a while. You knew in the long run it wouldn't be easy to date someone in his profession. It took an immense amount of patience, understanding, and communication. You both were great at those first two points, but communication had become increasingly difficult.

Vernon tended to have a very one-track thought process. He was constantly lost in his own world, and if something wasn't happening directly in front of him, it was often out of sight out of mind. With his recording, practicing, and touring, you were very often that thing that was forgotten.

"Hey," he said pleasantly.

You watched as a boxy grin appeared easily on his handsome face. After all you had said to him (and regretted), he still could look upon you fondly.

"How-How are you?" you asked. You could do pleasantries. He wasn't a nefarious villain or anything.

"I've been better," he chuckled, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. "What about you?"

"Great," you lied with a small nod. "Things are-"

"Good evening," the hostess cut you off. "Do you have a reservation?"

"Oh no," you said quickly, motioning over to the bar. "I was going to-"

"Actually, we do," Vernon nodded as he stepped forward. "It's under Hansol Chwe."

You looked to him with wide eyes, doing your best to not panic. Why on earth would he think you wanted to have dinner with him? Why would HE want to have dinner with YOU?

"It's okay, you really don't have to-"

"Excellent, I found you in the system," the hostess smiled. "Follow me."

Vernon began to follow and looked back at you with a sly smile. He lifted his brows quickly as if to say, "want to make a bad decision"? You felt your mouth open, but swiftly close. Struggling over your own feet, your body had decided to follow.

"Alright, well, you're all set!" the hostess nodded. "Someone from the wait staff will be with you shortly."

Nonchalantly picking up the menu in front of him, Vernon began to scan the food options. You narrowed your eyes, completely flabbergasted with him.

"I wanted to say this in a kind way," you said slowly. He glanced at you over his menu and waited. "But honestly, Vernon, what the fuck?"

He immediately grinned and let out a small huff of amusement. "Did you not want to have dinner tonight?"

"Not with you!" you gasped. "We broke up. You were there. Don't you remember?"

"Of course, I do," he said, his smile immediately evaporating from his features. It felt like a punch to the gut knowing you were the cause for its disappearance. "You probably couldn't see with everyone standing around, but the bar was full."

"Oh," you said weakly. You played nervously with the corners of your menu. "I...I didn't mean to crash your evening. You made a reservation for yourself?"

"Nope, both of us," he hummed, his eyes never leaving the menu.

"B-Both of us?" you stuttered. "What do you mean?"

Vernon looked up again, his eyes finally meeting yours. "I've booked a reservation at this restaurant every weekend since we broke up. Party of two, usually an actual party of one staying for the whole meal."

You lifted your brows and remained silent. How were you supposed to handle that information?

"I didn't know when you were coming back," he sighed. "But I wanted to be here when you did."

"Why?"

You felt completely lost. The two of you had only been broken up for two or three weeks at this point, but to come to this place in hopes of bumping into each other...you weren't sure if it was delusional or kind of sweet.

This time Vernon sat down his menu and swiveled his body toward you. "Because I've been an absolute pinecone. Your words, not mine, but pretty accurate."

You went to speak but couldn't find the words. This may had been the creepiest way to go about seeing you again, but admittedly, you hadn't given him a whole lot of options.

Vernon chewed the corner of his lip, obviously uncomfortable with your silence. His brows furrowed as he waited.

"Are you two ready to order?" your server asked, finally appearing at your booth. You looked to Vernon who was still focused on you, and then back up to the server.

"I think we need a few minutes."

"Y/N," Vernon sighed. He reached forward in an attempt to grab your hands, but immediately stopped himself. Withdrawing them back to his lap, you could see a blush creeping up his neck. Somehow you had managed to completely fluster him without saying a word at all. Clearing his throat, he tried to start again. "I...um...I didn't really understand until you had stopped returning my calls."

You shook your head, unsure of what he meant.

"The silence stung," he admitted. "But it was effective. I've been wanting to just...be with you...like in the same room. It was actually becoming an ache.

"Vernon," you croaked. You had been thinking that you were the only one who had felt that awful brand of heartbreak. You thought he would go back to his normal routines, go back to being the chaotic golden doodle of a boy that he was.

"Let me finish," he whispered, clearly gathering his confidence again. "I put you on the back burner way more than what was fair. I didn't even realize how it was making you feel...even when you told me. I thought it couldn't be as bad as you said. Then I went into my phone and saw how many times I hadn't remembered to text you or call you back..."

"You're an idol," you interrupted. You felt guilt knowing that he was now experiencing the same things you had. Sure, you could hurt from it, but you still loved him enough to want to protect him. "I knew what I had signed up for...I'm just not the person who can withstand it I guess."

"But you could," he insisted. "If I had supported you."

Intaking a deep breath, you let it out slowly. You looked down to your hands now clenched in your own lap. You had spoken for hours when you had finally broken up. You tried to make him understand how unhappy things were, but he had never seen it. He insisted that even when he was busy, you had been at the forefront of his mind. You were a window always open in his browser, just not one he got to click that often. To him, that meant that he did love you and he was paying attention...

...and you hadn't even thought to give him the chance to do better.

"I saw you looking at this the last time we were in the store together," he said quietly. Standing up, he pulled a small box from his pocket. Thinking for a moment, he chose to abandon his seat and sit back down in the booth beside you. He was cautious as he scooted closer, waiting for you to stop him. "So I got it for you."

You focused on the sadness in his eyes before looking down. In the small box sat a dainty necklace, a small charm hanging from the chain.

"I know you're not the type to have your affections bought," he continued. "But I thought that maybe this would help show you that I am paying attention. I do have a crazy amount of interest in you...I've just been a real dick about it."

"Vernon, I-" you began. Your thoughts were a whirlwind. It was difficult to think with him this close. He smelled so good and exuded such warmth. He was a ray of sunshine, and he was ready to do the work. It had taken time to get him there, but he really understood.

"Say yes," a girl squeaked at the table to the left of you.

You and Vernon looked from her and back to each other with wide eyes. "Does she think-"

"Say yes!" she said a little louder, clasping her hands before her chest.

You smiled to yourself before looking up at Vernon who was already laughing. Your eyes met and both of you fell silent.

"Let's do this," you whispered. Before you could think better of it, you grabbed his neck and yanked him forward. The passion behind his kiss was unmatched. He had clearly missed you and wanted to put all of that pent up energy into your lips.

You could tell he wanted to convey every promise he could. He wanted you to know that he was sorry and he was going to make this right. The long kiss morphed into more rushed, short kisses as his lips tried to get more and more of yours. It took a moment to remember where you were, but you quickly realized as you heard applause erupt around you.

"Congratulations!" the girl from the opposite booth yelled over the din. "Oh my God, I've always wanted to see an engagement in person!"

"An engagement," you croaked, your eyes whipping to Vernon. This caused him to laugh loudly. You looked back over to the girl and immediately tried to correct her. "No, we-"

Your eyes swept across the restaurant. Families, couples, and staff looked upon you kindly.

"Hey," Vernon whispered. He pressed a few fingers to your jaw and directed your focus back to him. "Don't look at them, look at me."

You took a deep breath, ready to argue about the ridiculousness of this entire situation.

"We're totally not engaged," he grinned. "But think of the free dessert we'll probably get if we let them think we are."

You're Acting Like My Boyfriend | Choi Seungcheol

Pairing: f!reader x Choi Seungcheol Word Count: 1.5k+ Warning(s): cursing, some nonconsensual kissing and touching (read at own risk)

"You're acting like my boyfriend..."

“If you got to date an idol, which one would you date?”

It was an innocent question, asked by a sweet fan on a video call when you happened to walk behind one of the members. You worked with Stray Kids and you were the only member of their team that was known by name and appearance by STAY.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe Joshua from Seventeen or San from ATEEZ, they both seem like they’d be good boyfriends.”

You went about the rest of the schedule for the day without really considering what you had said in the video. It was inconsequential to how the rest of the day went, between herding some very loud men to dance practice and then staying at the studio while Chan worked. You almost forgot that you’d promised to go hang out at the Seventeen dorms for a bit, and probably would have completely missed it, if not for a text from Seungcheol asking if you were still coming by. He may not have lived in the dorms, but he sure seemed to be there enough to live in them. Attached to his text was a picture of  pouty looking Jun.

The trip to the dorms wasn’t that long, but after the day you had, you were expecting this to be a short trip. Everyone had gathered at one dorm, even if it meant they were all over each other, not that they minded. You arrived and were engulfed in a mass of limbs and warm bodies. As the group settled down, someone brought you a drink and a spot was made for you to sit on the couch. You propped your feet up in Jihoon’s lap, leaning back against the arm of the couch and letting your eyes close temporarily.

“So, you’re down bad for Joshua then?”

Your eyes flew open and everyone in the room froze for a second. Seungcheol sat across the living room, arms crossed, waiting for an answer. His eyes never left you, though you noted the way his eyes ran along your side before landing back on your face.

“What the hell?”

“From that call you were in this morning. ‘Joshua or San would be such good boyfriends’,” Seungcheol said, using a high pitched voice to reiterate your statement that had been long forgotten in your own mind.

“I didn’t say it like that-”

“How did you say it then, Y/N?” he asked, clearly not satisfied yet.

“Cheol, maybe we should-” Seokmin tried to interject, but was quickly cut off.

“We should what? She said she’d date Joshua. Should we set them up? We could’ve made a spot on the couch for her right next to him so they could get their hands all over each other,” Seungcheol said, and his voice was dripping with venom.

“Seungcheol, stop.”

“Why? Am I embarrassing you? Do I need to kiss your hurt feelings better?”

“You’re acting like my boyfriend who just got told I think one of his friends is cute and took it that I meant I wanted to fuck him instead of that he was just cute.”

The room was dead silently. Heads were bouncing between you and Seungcheol like it was a tennis match, except instead of a ball, it was words laced with thorns. He hadn’t moved, arms still crossed and eyes trained on you. You had swung around and planted your feet on the floor, ready to get up and walk across the room to haul off on him. Not that he wouldn’t easily stop you, but you were ready anyway.

“Are you jealous, Seungcheol? Does it hurt your oversized ego when I didn’t say it was you that would be a good boyfriend? You’re making it clear there was a reason I didn’t pick you right now.”

He was out of his chair and across the room before you knew what was happening. One hand slammed into the back of the couch next to your shoulder and you jerked back as his face came within centimeters of yours.

“You don’t think I’ll be a good boyfriend, princess? I bet I can take care of you better than Joshua or San could.”

Seokmin and Mingyu stepped in, pulling Seungcheol back by the shoulders so that he didn’t have you completely cornered. You took the opportunity to bolt towards the door, shoving your feet in your shoes and scrambling for your bag. You made it into the hallway before he was on you again.

You were cornered for the second time in mere minutes by Seungcheol. He planted his hands on either side of you against the wall, caging you in. Trapped. He was leaned in close, lips pressed against your ear.

“Don’t run away, princess, I have to show you how good a boyfriend I can be.”

“Get off me-”

He didn’t budge as you tried to push against his chest, and he had a shit eating grin on his face as he pulled back to look at the glare plastered across yours. Seungcheol leaned in, forcing his lips to yours as you tried to protest. One of his hands left the wall to hold your head in place as he pressed his mouth to you harder. You stopped pushing from the shock of him just kissing you in the middle of a fight that should have never happened to start with.

“Kiss and make up, yeah?” he said, finally coming up for air. His face still hovered in front of yours, brown eyes staring into yours, daring you to protest. “Can’t have my little princess leave so mad at me, can I?”

He kissed you again, licking across your bottom lip. When you didn’t open your mouth, he brought a hand around to give you a light smack on the ass. The gasp you made left him ample opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, exploring the sweet taste of you. You tried to push against his shoulders, but he simply wrapped an arm around you and pulled you in closer.

“If you’re going to be such a brat, I’ll punish you.”

“Why are you-”

“Seriously gonna ask me why I’m being like this? I want you princess. If you really don’t want me, I’ll let go, but you sure aren’t putting up a difficult fight.”

“I…”

“Use your words, princess. You what? You want me to keep kissing you? You want to call Bang Chan to come and beat me up?”

Truth be told, you weren’t sure what you wanted. His kissing had done something to you. You would never deny that Seungcheol was hot. He was an idol after all. You had never thought about Seungcheol as a prospect. He was a lot like Chan. Busy, dedicated, too much of an overachiever to take the time to have a relationship. And here he was, in a dark hallway, telling you about how he’d be such a good boyfriend.

“You wanna go home and I can show you just how well I can take care of you?”

“Seungcheol, slow…slow down.”

“Am I moving too fast for you, princess? I can slow it down just for you.”

He threaded his fingers into your hair and pulled your head back a bit so that you’d look him in the eyes. His pupils had grown wide with what you could only assume to be lust. He watched your mouth and the way you breathed for a moment before placing a soft kiss to your lips. It was very different from the ones that had happened only minutes earlier, but it still felt like he was sending shockwaves through you.

“I promise I can play nice, princess. I just get a little crazy when I think my little princess is getting out of hand.”

“We need to set some boundaries.”

At that, Seungcheol straightened up a bit. He ran a hand through his hair and released you from his hold. It was clear that he realized he had crossed a whole lot of boundaries in the short amount of time since you’d arrived at the dorms.

“Tell me, princess.”

“First, I’m not property, and I won’t be treated like it.” He nodded at your words. ‘Second, consent fucking exists, Seungcheol.”

His face and ears and down into his chest all turned a flaming shade of red as he was forced to face just how bad his behavior had been. To say you were a little mad was an understatement. If you didn’t want to kiss the shit out of him you probably would have called Chan to come kick his ass.

“I’m sorry. I understand what I did was wrong. If you give me the chance, I’d like to prove that I know better and am better than that.”

“Third, if you ever get physical with me like that again, it’s game over. You don’t get to corner me like prey to get what you want and act like it’s perfectly fine.” He nodded again, looking down at his hands.

“I feel like a jackass, if that makes you feel better.”

“You should feel like one, you’ve been acting like one. I’m going home and the next time you see me you’re taking me to get ice cream and buying me flowers to help apologize for acting like a territorial dog.”

“Anything for you, princess. Now at least let me walk you down to the car.”

Family Headcanons

Because I need there to be drama and angst and accuracy because whoever the fuck wrote for Jack did not do eldest siblings justice /lh Also TW for angry parents (Riddle), divorce, dead parents, su*cide + death of a child (Vil’s) I Promise Not All Of Them Are Sad

- Riddle doesn't know he has an older, disowned sister, which was a contributing factor to how his mother treated him because she didn’t want another disappointment.  Riddles mom had another man before Riddles father, and they had Cora Rosehearts (because she kept her maiden name, she didn’t take on her partners last name and insisted for reputations sake, her kids would take on her last name) When Cora was six her behavioural "issues" started coming through, and despite her mothers medical background, she wouldn’t/couldn’t find ways to work with her ADHD to the point she almost hit Cora, but her father stepped in. They argued, the father was horrified, and Ms.Rosehearts blamed him and his genetics for the disappointment of a child. He left right then and there with his daughter and called the cops on her. Nothing happened because there was no proof, but Riddles mothers view of herself was so fragile, she felt she was failing if she didn’t have her perfect family. She very quickly found another man (probably someone she worked with) that she figured would be compatible enough with her to have a child that would meet her expectations Cora’s father finds it difficult to say no to anything Cora asks for because of how she was treated when she was little and he wasn’t always around to protect her. She’s pretty humble and doesn’t ask for much. They're really close and very happy, but Cora often thinks about her mother and what would happen if she did have another kid. Her father finds out about Riddle and debates whether or not he should tell Cora, but once Cora finds out she spends her own money to go find Riddle and show him he has a safe place to come. This happens around Halloween. It’s very overwhelming for Riddle, but eventually the two grow close. Their mother finds out and looses her mind, and she comes to NRC with the intent of homeschooling Riddle again, but Cora stands up to her for him. His mother’s disappointment in him hurts like hell, but he gets to know his biological dad eventually and starts to heal. He can’t bring himself to cut his mother out of his life, but he has harder boundaries after coming home early from winter holidays an emotional mess, just locking himself away in his room until break is over. - Trey is the eldest of 11.  Trey’s parents are both  pretty optimistic about everything, a little unrealistic This made Trey, as the eldest,  learn to be more down to earth, and keep things real, but hopeful. Its exhausting though, any sort of conflict between his parents (not that there’s much) he’s the buffer, but he has to do it for 10 other people. He’s incredibly patient but again, it’s tiring, resulting in apathy when he’s alone or sometimes with Cater/people his age save for Riddle. Seeing as he’s 18, his siblings are all two years younger than the one before them, the only set of twins being the second youngest at 2 years old who he’s closest to emotionally, and the youngest being a baby baby. His sister immediately after him is a little salty that he left home so easily, happy, even to let her take on the responsibility of becoming the “eldest”, but really she’s scared that he is going to leave permanently. Over break he gets the chance to address those fears and make up with her. He loves coming up with new recipes with each of his siblings, and his parents are incredibly proud of him. - Cater's mom and dad are on the brink of divorce his mom (and as a result of his mom, his sisters) spends money to cope but doesn’t have a job herself and relies fully on her husbands accounting skills to make sure things are fine and he's cheated on her once, she knows and uses it to guilt trip him into staying (in their private convos) this was way back, Cater would have been like 6 they, privately, agreed to stay together until all their kids moved out. His mom started trying harder to bond with her kids (also a recovering alcoholic at the time, she’s better by the time he’s 8) but really only succeeded with the girls, and could see that so panicked and just tried to include Cater in everything, thinking it would bring them closer, so if they did divorce before the kids were grown, she figured they’d want to stay with her more often and she could live off child support She also definitely got into a pyramid scheme to prove she could get a job however, his sisters still live at home (26 and 28) and his dad is just so emotionally exhausted he doesn’t care anymore, he’s just really fucking depressed and can’t bring himself to care anymore.  - I have nothing to note for Deuce. His mother is perfect. I love their dynamic. - Ace's older brother is Jack Hearts (he held onto his moms last name after she passed and uses it to honour her in his shows, Ace was too young to remember her) they were raised by their dad and grandparents. Ace adores his big brother immensely and texts him on at least a weekly basis, if not daily. Whenever he learns something new that he’s proud of, he takes a video of it and sends it to his family, because he knows that they’re his biggest cheering squad. (based on Disney Recruiters) - Leona’s family also has no change. I do think he and his sister in law are just really salty in almost a fun way towards each other. - Ruggie has SO many adoptive younger siblings (that the community helps raise, its not just up to his grandma). He’s kind of viewed as the communities pride and joy for getting into NRC, they all helped pay for his tuition and whatnot, so in return he helps them however he can. He and his grandma are tight, and they’re little shits to each other. - Jack does not read as an eldest sibling. He’s the youngest, but he has many younger cousins that all live nearby. He’s closest to his oldest/only sister and looks up to her, contributing to his sense of determination. Having had to look after his cousins made him fairly responsible, but as we saw in the tsum event, he still complained when he had to look after the little thing. That’s not an eldest sibling trait /hj. He has a total of four older siblings. His father is a very stoic, hard to read ex-body builder and his mom is a very eccentric, hyperactive tiny woman. His oldest sister has moved out, and married a successful businessman, and they have one child together. His next older brother tried moving out, got his heart broken, and came home to recover but hasn’t left since, and everyone’s ok with it. The second youngest members are twin brothers that loved wrestling with Jack when he was little, and continue to do so today, even though Jack is bigger than them. Their family was fairly conservative, so when one of the twins came out as gay, they worked to understand more. They’ve got the spirit of support even if they don’t fully understand. Jack’s mother loves telling stories about her kids to anyone who will listen, and his dad has pictures of them in his wallet. The cousins are from their dad’s siblings side, as Jack’s mom hasn’t spoken to her sister in a while, but hopes to hear from her soon. - Azul is an only child, raised by his mom and grandma, who yes, he calls his grandma “Nonna” because an underwater Italian leave me alone. They all yell at each other a lot but its never in malice. His mom is really good about giving him hugs though, but he could stand to go without the cheek pinches. - Jade and Floyd are implied to have multiple late siblings from when they were kids, and in Harveston they say "oh this is our family for now (mom, dad, them, and grandma)" which leads me to believe that their mom might be expecting and the whole family is just kinda waiting to see who survives the first 48 hours. The whole family is rather detached, they have to be for the sake of how survival works in the ocean, but now that the tweels are well on their ways to being adults, their mom is a lot more open with welcoming them home and giving them physical affection, and their dad wants to spend more time with them. This is normal for them, and they’re very glad to have gotten to this point. Their grandma has memory issues, so when they’re with her, Jade pins his hair back so the black stripe isn’t visible, making it a little easier for her to discern them from each other. - Jamil and Najma are two years apart in my mind, and their dynamic is excellent, I’m not messing with it. - Kalim has way too many half siblings, but not a single full sibling. This often makes him feel isolated and lonely even when he’s constantly surrounded by people. - Vil is an only child, but technically he's the youngest. (Tw death/suic*de) The press was bribed by his father to not let the story out after his wife suffocated their last child to death when she was two after a mental break. (she was also a renowned celebrity) They kept it hidden for four more years, but when she realized she wanted to do the same thing to Vil, she killed herself in the bathroom. He doesn’t know this, he just remembers her being beautiful and elegant, and wants to emulate her, which he does well. His father initially didn’t really want Vil to get into acting after seeing what it did to his wife, but Vil was adamant about being as much like his mother as possible. His grieving father didn’t have the heart to turn him down.   - Rook has 6 siblings, and he is the youngest. Each of his siblings excel in certain areas of hunting, as their parents are like Clayton and Mary Jane from Tarzan. Rook takes after his mother more, as his father spent most of his time with his older siblings out in the woods, or other biomes that they chose to hunt in. Rook stayed with his mother, learning about how to use every part of the animal, honouring it’s sacrifice, the beauty in death, etc. until he was about 9 and his father helped him shoot a long bow for the first time. Family reunions are difficult to schedule, but when they do happen, a nerf battle “to the death” happens, before each person makes their favourite dish from the last place they were. Also, his father used to shoot them with nerf bullets if they were getting too rowdy. - Epel has no change, I love him. One thing to note, I suppose is he is trans. His grandma knows. Doesn’t understand a darned thing but he’s happy so she’s happy for him. - Shrouds have each other, as well as "Mrs. Hades" as their aunt (based on Disney recruiters, link above). Their mom is a very warm, loving person, whereas their dad is more detached, (Mrs. Hades is his sister). I like how they mesh, so I’m leaving this alone. A/N I’m hesitant to say anything about Diasomnia except for Sebek, so apologies if you read all this way to try and find Malleus. He’s an only child. There’s no change. - Sebek has an older brother and sister, his sister shares more visible fae traits than either he or his brother do and he’s a little jealous but won’t admit it. His older brother is very bubbly and takes after their father. Sebek thinks he’s the youngest, however he gets to go home over summer break and find out his mother is pregnant. Also I love the HC that Trey and Sebek are distantly related, so yes, that’s canon here too.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alright thank you for reading! If you’d like to be put on a tag list please let me know! Masterlist 

☁️ BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND #6

summary ⎯  venus has had her eyes on her brother's best friend chris for as long as she can remember but she is far too scared that's all she is to him, his best friend's little sister. what happens when she realises he sees her in a different light and how will she and chris keep it hidden from her brother who has always told his friends never to meddle about with his sister.

part one! ♯ part two! ♯ part three! ♯ part four! ♯

part five!

warnings ⎯  suggestive and sexual, eventual smut, chris x fem!oc, fluff, cursing, kind of angst (?)

A/N ⎯  finally working on something with parts to it so i'm excited!! as a reminder, leo and venus do not exist irl, i just chose any random names for the sake of the story.

i hope you enjoy <3

CHAPTER A/N ⎯ i was supposed to be studying but i decided to write this instead. this is based on a request i got about chris and a volleyball reader but seeing as venus is already a volleyball player, i thought i'd just include it here. it isn't letting me reply directly to the request but this is for you anonymous. this is also the final chapter of brother's best friend, i hope you all loved it!! i'll start working on my other requests once exams are over <3

❛ ━━･❪ ִ ࣪𖤐 ❫ ･━━ ❜

"matt hurry the fuck up! i'm not going to be late," chris' voice travels from downstairs to matt's room and a few moments after, matt comes trotting down the stairs with an apologetic expression on his face.

"fucking finally, i thought kid's ears were going to start releasing steam because of how annoyed he was," nick gestures towards chris who rolls his eyes but chooses not to respond, instead opening the front door and making his way quickly to matt's car because matt decided he didn't mind taking all of them to venus' volleyball match.

it's one of the final matches in this new tournament her team is competing in and it's honestly a pretty big deal. if they make it through this competition within the top three spots, they'll qualify to the next competition. venus has been going on about it and chris honestly finds it adorable; he loves listening to her ramble and explain every little detail excitedly. he also loves going to support her in every match. he hasn't missed a single one since they got together and he doesn't plan on doing so either which is exactly why he's annoyed at matt for taking so long. he doesn't want venus to think he isn't coming to cheer her on before the start of a very important game.

"relax we're going to make it on time, i promise," matt reassures him as he steps into the driver's seat and begins pulling out of the driveway.

chris doesn't really pay attention to the conversations happening in the car as they continue to approach their destination because he's too busy thinking about seeing venus in her element. he doesn't even completely register matt parking the car until the car door at the back opens and nick steps out of the car. chris follows with an eager smile planted across his face as they make it towards the top of the stands where family and friends of players can easily find one another.

as soon as they reach the top, chris immediately spots leo who's busy texting on his phone. he approaches his best friend and pushes his back slightly, making him jump but then break out into a large smile.

"you're here, thank fuck. venus keeps messaging me to ask if you're here," leo shakes his head, turning his phone so chris can read the multiple exchanges back and forth between the siblings where venus is doing exactly that.

chris isn't by any means late, in fact the match isn't set to start for another fifteen minutes but he's usually a lot earlier, staying with venus behind closed doors and reassuring her until the game begins. he feels bad that she probably has been worrying all on her own, without him there to tell her it'll all be okay.

"where is she?" he asks leo with a frown and leo tells him the specific room number she's occupied alone and so he quickly parts ways with his best friend and brothers, their chatter with one another fading as he walks away to the room.

he knocks on the door a couple times and waits until he hears the familiar sound, "come in."

he opens the door and sees venus physically ease, the tension in her shoulders disappearing slightly at the mere sight of him. he opens his arms out for her and she steps into his embrace with no difficulty, pressing a small kiss to his cheek and inhaling his scent to provide herself with a form of stability within the nerves that are circling through her.

"hey ma," he whispers into the hug before she pulls away, a nervous look now planted across her face that makes chris' heart swell slightly.

"i'm sorry, i'm just worried," she tells him when she notices the sympathetic gaze he's giving her.

she doesn't want to be on the receiving end of sympathy but it's so hard for her to mask her feelings around her boyfriend. there's something about chris that makes it so easy to be her genuine self and showcase her genuine feelings. she's rather grateful for it because she doesn't feel like she has to be someone else or put on a facade of some sort just so chris likes her and can handle her. he likes her for who she is, flaws included and that makes her heart feel full.

"venus, i barely knew anything about volleyball before i became your boyfriend and then the moment i did, i became some sort of expert all because of you. you weren't even making me feel bored when you taught me everything because it was so obvious you loved everything about what you were saying. this is your thing saturn and every single game i come to, everyone in the crowd has eyes on you, especially me. you're going to be amazing and i'm going to be here watching you and cheering you on through every last minute, okay?"

venus nothing short of melts due to his words. they travel straight to her heart and for a moment, she's unable to do anything, too thankful and in utter adoration of the person standing in front of her. she eventually does connect their lips and it's her way of responding to chris without having to say anything at all. the kiss is intense because she's pouring every ounce of admiration she has for him into it. she doesn't ever want to pull apart because of how right his lips feel against hers. it's not even sexual she finds herself thinking, it's pure and fierce and as though she's a warrior defending the love she has for chris.

the love she has for chris.

neither one of them has said anything about love just yet but venus knows when she looks at chris, when she hears his voice, when he's simply him; she is in love. when they pull apart, she knows for certain the emotion running through her veins is real and she'd be damned if she doesn't tell chris exactly what she's thinking.

"chris..." there's a pause where he nods his head and smiles at her softly, making every last bit of doubt fly out of her, "i love you."

the smile she receives reminds her why she loves him. he looks so fucking thrilled at the thought of her loving him and his cheeks turn the slightest bit pink. she thinks he looks beyond adorable and when he starts to reply, she swears she loses sense of anything but him and the sound of his gentle voice.

"i'm in love with you," it's like reassurance for something she never even knew she needed.

there is no doubt in her head that she loves chris but the thought that he might not love her is always present. now, it's not as though she thinks it's chris' obligation to love her but the emotions she feels when he confirms that he does feel the same are greater than any before.

"come here," he pulls her into his chest and hugs her so tightly, she can almost feel his love transferring onto her.

"now come on, you're going to go out there and be the best player ever like i know you are," he turns her body around and leads her closer to the door.

he watches the slight sway in her body as she walks for a few steps and god he's so in love with everything about her. his hands go to either side of her waist and stop her in her tracks. she doesn't turn around, simply waits for him and practically shudders when he pushes her beautiful ponytail over her left shoulder and his lips brush against her neck from the right.

"those shorts are going to be the end of me," he speaks against her skin and she laughs, relishing in the soft touch he provides.

he steps back and admires her before delivering a small, playful slap to her ass that makes her body jolt in a way he wants to replay in his mind forever. she turns around with a sheepish grin and he can't help but return the expression.

"let's make a deal," he tells her and she raises her brows at him, turning around entirely so now their eyes are looking into one another’s.

"when you win, i'm going to lower those shorts just a little so i can fuck your brains out," he whispers and she splutters on air before a smirk settles on her face.

the way he says when instead of if makes her heart flutter and his words certainly aren't helping but, in all honesty, she loves the sound of them. she nods her head in agreement eagerly, "remember that time you said you'd make the fuck out with me if i won?"

she reminds him of the time before they even got together where he was about to say something along those lines before leo walked in and he beams at her. of fucking course, he remembers but knowing she remembers just as well makes it all the more worth it.

"what are you trying to say?" he's teasing because he knows exactly what she means; to be frank, he just wants to hear her say it.

the smirk doesn't leave her face when she answers, "you can do exactly that whilst i sit on that pretty little lap in these exact shorts."

he groans. he actually groans at the thought and she loves the way she can see the effect she has on him because she's more than aware he has the same effect on her. they both drive each other crazy and they truly love it beyond words can explain.

"guess my dreams are gonna come true. come on, let's go before your team wonders where you are. good luck ma," he presses a short but sweet kiss to her lips and she smiles into it, thanking him shortly before they go separate ways to their respective areas.

chris returns to the stands where his brothers and leo are looking around for him with a grin on his face. when they spot him, they finally sit back down in relief.

"took your fucking time," leo narrows his eyes at him in suspicion.

if only he knew.

"i was helping saturn," he shrugs, blocking out their responses and glancing at the time displayed on one of the screens extremely close by.

two more minutes until he knows venus will absolutely destroy the other team. two more minutes until he's guaranteed to fuck her in those pretty little shorts. two minutes until he's the proudest boyfriend all over again for yet another game.

maybe he just really wants to see venus play but the two minutes seem to drag for an eternity so when the players finally get into their positions, he sits up in his seat and quickly locates venus. a proud smile settles on his face when he notes she's going to be the one to serve. even if she wasn't serving though, he can’t confirm that he'd be looking at the game because all he can seem to do is stare at her.

the whistle blows to signal the start of the game and her serve is perfect, in fact everything about her is perfect and chris is in complete awe. he watches the game eagerly, not peeling his eyes away from her for even a second and grinning like never before when her team's points pile up in contrast to other team's few. he observes her every move and anytime she's the one to score, he goes absolutely crazy. people even turn back to stare at who's making such commotion but he doesn't care in the slightest; he's here to support his girlfriend and that's exactly what he's doing.

after around an hour and ten minutes, the game comes to a close and that means their team is through to the next round. chris goes insane in the crowds and he can hear his brothers and leo doing the exact same. he watches as venus looks to stand to find him and when she does, the smile on her face is the prettiest thing he has ever seen. he beams at her, clapping loudly, making her shake her head fondly. she smirks for a second as she snaps the waistband of her shorts against her skin; chris cheers even louder at that.

"you were fucking amazing," he finally tells her when she's stepped away from leo, nick and matt.

"i was thinking about how you fuck amazing," she retorts and he laughs loudly, a glimmer in his eyes as he captures her hand in his own and leads them to matt's car.

"i should've brought my car," he groans quietly to her when the others enter the car and matt begins driving them to the triplets' house.

"patience, we'll say you're taking me out to eat and while leo stays at your house, we can go back to my place and do whatever," she responds softly and he nods his head, rubbing circles against her hand with his thumb delicately.

they do as planned and so chris takes his car and they begin driving home. the only thing on his mind is venus. every last thought is screaming her name and when she places her hand on his thigh and inches closer to his dick, he swears he loses all composure.

"venus," he warns her and when he glances to the side, she has this perfect, teasing smile on her face that he just wants to kiss senseless.

"keep driving, we're ten minutes away," she tells him but he can't for the life of him focus on the road when her hand is dangerously close to where he needs her.

the thoughts of her start getting to him and he can feel himself begin to harden in his sweatpants. he groans and starts driving faster in the hopes of getting to her house as fast as possible. she notices the increase in speed and laughs inaudibly to anyone but herself. her eyes glimmer when she notices chris getting hard and she finds herself getting more and more turned on by the second. she stares at nothing but the familiar outline being showcased through his sweatpants and her movements against his thigh go still.

he doesn't notice at first until at least a minute passes and her hand is still on his thigh and her eyes are still trained in the same spot. he grins and turns to her briefly, "you have to be good and wait saturn."

and oh fuck. he is not helping in the slightest and she starts to understand why he was so frustrated just seconds before. she needs him and she needs him now.

"chris," she whines a little and he hums in response, "i need you."

"we're just over five minutes away," he plays her at her own game and she throws her head back against the chair.

"please," she mumbles and how on earth is he meant to deny her of anything when she sounds so desperate and beautiful all for him?

they're lucky there are secluded areas nearby that people rarely go to because chris drives around a minute until they reach one and then he parks the car.

"get in the back," he instructs and she doesn't even hesitate for a second, instantly moving to climb into the back and falling into the seat when chris slaps her ass in the process.

said boy gets out of the car and slams his door shut before moving to sit beside her in the back. as soon as his back hits the seat, she moves to straddle his legs and kisses him as though she has no other purpose. the kiss is eager and desperate and shows her want flawlessly. the feeling of her grinding against him in those shorts he fucking loves gets him even harder and he just needs to be inside of her before he implodes.

"fuck baby, i need to be in you," he says against her lips and she moans in satisfaction, lifting her hips lightly in a message that chris understands immediately.

he pulls her shorts down ever so slightly so that he can align himself with her whilst she still has them sitting perfectly on her thighs and his sweatpants down to his knees. he teases her for a while, not quite giving her what she wants and she whimpers in need.

"please chris, need you so badly," she grinds harder against him and the skin on skin sensation drives him crazy.

"you have me," he smiles softly and then slams into her like he's made to do that and that alone.

she falls into his chest at the rough thrusts and he grins, his hands moving to either side of her waist to keep her upright. her pants fill the car and when she meets him halfway her with her grinding, moans start to escape his lips uncontrollably. the sound of arousal fills the air and is like music to their ears, making them increase their paces to hear the tune more.

her lips press against his whilst he slaps her ass again. he really is in love with her ass but when it's paired with his favourite shorts, he swears he's on cloud nine. he moans when she bites at his earlobe and thrusts into her faster, practically making her scream. chris loves the way she doesn't hold back from screaming her pleasure. it makes him want to thrust into her forever.

skin on skin, tongues against tongues and moans warming the car is sending them both beyond the edge. chris' thrusts are getting faster because he knows the two of them are close. he can feel her clenching around him and forming incoherent words as she moves against him.

"fuck, fuck, fuck," she yells as she presses legs against him and begins to cum, the sight making chris reach his orgasm too.

they cum together with sloppy kisses and rushed movements and they swear there's no greater feeling than the intimacy of sex and cumming together in a union of the souls.

❛ ━━･❪ ִ ࣪𖤐 ❫ ･━━ ❜

tags: @mattslolita @sturniolololover @mattsleftnipple03 @that-general-simp

Say It (Ch3)

18+ 6.3k homelander x f!reader. comeplay, lite blood, mirror sex, penetrative sex, fingering, lite dacryphilia, praise kink, instances of sublander, overstim, dirty talk, angst. read ch 1 + 2 here, or on AO3. There is an undeniable primal violence to love. It can bring out the very best in us as easily as it can bring out the very worst. In the wake of Homelander's constant, oppressive brand of love, you have uncovered aspects of yourself that would have been better left buried.

You’re not sure how to describe the relationship you have with Homelander. In the beginning, you felt like an object to him. Something to squeeze and use when he needed relief. Ever since that incident in the not-so-empty hall, however, the dynamic between you has been markedly different. You practically live with him now, spending most of your days sequestered in his penthouse like Rapunzel in her tower.

Now, you’re closer to his… partner? Girlfriend? None of the words feel right for what happens between the two of you. He showers you with gifts, with love and attention. Anything you ask, he provides. In turn, he confesses things to you that would turn America upside down. He has burdened you so heavily with his sins that you feel the weight of them upon your shoulders as if they’re yours. Sometimes, when he tells you what his hands have done, you can feel the blood warm and wet on your own hands.

Tonight, you’re at his side at a private Vought evening affair. Your first public appearance. He introduces you to people as his date, but doesn’t elaborate any further, deflecting effortlessly when people ask for details. It makes you two the talk of the evening. Homelander is America’s most eligible bachelor, and you’re no one at all by comparison. So, naturally, the second Homelander leaves you alone to get some air on the large patio balcony, you’re approached.

“Hey, this seat taken?” The man asks, smiling down at you. He has his hand perched on the back of both the bar stool next to you as well as the back of your chair, his arm close enough that you can smell the spice of his cologne. It sets off alarm bells in your mind, but you know that the people here are important people. You haven’t met this man. For all you know, he’s significant to Vought in some way. You’re not just here as yourself; you’re here as Homelander’s date. What you say and do will reflect on him. You must take too long to respond, because the man clicks his tongue. “If it is–” “No, it isn’t,” you say, glancing towards the balcony doors. They’re closed. No sign of him. The evening is chilly, and only the two of you seem foolish enough to lounge outside. You look back at the man. “Go ahead,” you say, turning back to the counter overlooking the city, where you have both hands cupped around the drink you finished a few minutes ago. There’s a beat of dense silence before the man offers, “Can I treat you to a refill?” You blink, looking over at him. “It’s an open bar.”

That causes him to bark out a laugh. “Okay, touché. Can I go order you another, then?” “Is there something about me that screams ‘help, I’ve finished my drink and I’m too stupid to order another’?” You ask, frowning. Is he trying to flirt with you? He must have seen you with Homelander. The man has been showing you off on his arm for the majority of the night. He’s either oblivious, or an idiot. Regardless, you know how this could end. He needs to leave you alone. Unperturbed, the man laughs again, more surprised this time. He gives a soft whistle, pulling you from your thoughts. “Damn, you’re sharp. Most women would have just taken the drink by now,” he says, obviously trying to be playful. He throws in a wink for good measure. “C’mon, lemme order you a drink.”

It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes, remembering that you’re trying to be civil while you dissuade him from a potentially gruesome death. “They were probably afraid of saying no to you. Do you always badger women into accepting drinks from you?” The man turns in his seat, his knees nearly brushing the side of your thigh. He leans forward slightly. “Are you always this mean, or am I special?” He asks. The only thing sharper than his expensive looking suit is the line of his predatory smile. There was a time when a man like this would intimidate you, but you know something he doesn’t. There’s a much bigger shark in the water. You wonder if that shark is watching. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me what could make you special in a room full of superheroes?” You ask, rapidly losing the thin veneer of politeness you intended to uphold. The man watches you in a way that’s all too familiar to you. You’re not a person to him, he hasn’t even asked your name. You’re just a conquest to be won, an opposing force to be subjugated. Looks like you’ve hit a nerve. You can see it in the way his smile frays at the edges. Men like him are so predictable.

“Is that why you’re here with mister America himself?” Ah. There it is. “Does it make you feel real special? Real above the rest of us mere mortals?” The man asks with a slow building derision dripping from each word. He never loses that smile, but it’s beginning to look more like the gesture you know it is: he’s bearing his teeth at you. It’s funny how easy it is to reduce men to this now that you’ve seen what the worst of it can look like. This man doesn’t scare you. He can’t touch you. You are above him. You lean in. “Which answer will ensure you stop talking to me?” “You can leave any time,” he says, as if you’re the one who invaded his space in the first place. “Unless you’re looking for something.” You startle when he puts his hand on your knee, sliding up to your thigh. “That boy scout not fuck you right?” The motherfucker looks so pleased with himself. How long has he been waiting to say that? You feel your skin itch, your blood turning hot beneath it. His hand feels a scalding, noxious thing on your leg, even through the fabric of your dress. You feel sick, paralyzed with the magnitude of your own anger welling up in the back of your throat like bile. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, the drums of war to come.

Like something wild, with fangs and claws, you very nearly pounce him. The only thing that stops you is a sudden weight on the back of your neck, a Titanous grip that keeps you firmly in place. Homelander’s shadow falls over you both, and by the time the man realizes it, he snatches his hand away from your leg too little too late. You have no idea how long Homelander's been watching. “Hey, babe,” he greets you, his tone falsely jovial. You’re not sure if he’s jumping to conclusions, or if he heard the exchange. He’s wearing a broad, manic kind of smile, his hand sliding from your neck to your shoulder, the weight of it a strange comfort. You reach up instinctively to cover it with your own, sinking in against his side.

Better the devil you know.

“Hey, I know you,” Homelander continues, pointing to the man sitting next to you, his eyes narrowing in recognition. “You’re Jeff, aren’t you? Yeahh, yeah, Jeffery Brimham. You’re the new CFO over at Superplastic, huh?” Jeff, whose skin has broken into a fine sheen of sweat in the time that Homelander has been speaking, stands up with a smile that is no longer predatory, but placating. Although he is taller than Homelander, his body language makes him seem so… small. The immediate change in his mannerisms grates on you like nails clawing down a chalkboard. His spine is so rigid, you’re overwhelmed by the visceral urge to snap it.

”Yes, yes I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jeff says. He has the nerve to shoot you a glance, begging you with his eyes. Please, his expression screams, his smile tense and polite while your teeth gnash behind your lips. I was only messing around. He gestures to you. “I was just getting acquainted with your lovely date here.” “You don’t say!” Homelander goes on, that smile only growing more disconcerting. Without missing a beat, he asks, “What’s her name?” Jeff’s smile falters. “Ah, I… I hadn’t had the chance to–” “Weeell, I just think if you’re acquainting yourself, you oughta ask someone’s name first, right, Jeffery?” He prompts, grin never lessening, though you think Jeff is beginning to see it for what it is. A threat. “But hey, maybe that’s just my inner boy scout talking.”

The color drains from Jeff’s face in an impressive sweep. It satisfies something in your churning gut. Instead of the dread you normally feel when Homelander begins menacing someone in your presence, you feel the white hot stab of conviction lance through you. He’s a fucking liar, and he expected to get away with it. It’s not surprising: how many women has he pulled this little power trip on? A dozen? A hundred? What would he have done to your drink if you had let him get you one? Homelander would never let that happen, but no one else has Homelander.

Only you do. Only you have his protection… and his violence.

It’s satisfying to watch Jeff be so thoroughly emasculated by Homelander’s mere presence, but ultimately, you know it’s a hollow victory. You may walk away from this encounter vindicated, but what happens to the woman after you? Jeff doesn’t seem the kind of man to have his ego gutted, and come out of it a better, more humble man. No, he’ll find someone like you, but even more vulnerable. He’ll order them a drink, he’ll frighten them, and he’ll hurt them the way you know he was imagining hurting you.

All because he wanted to take Homelander’s squeeze down a peg. Prove himself a social equal.

This man is dangerous. He doesn’t deserve an ounce of what he has.

Standing from your chair, you lean in towards Homelander, and whisper at a volume you know only he will hear, “I want you to kill him.”

The shift in Homelander’s posture is immediate, drawn tight as a bow. He looks sharply at you, both brows lifted, but it is not a look of surprise. It’s one of intrigue. He’s calling your bluff with nothing more than a stare, waiting for what he thinks to be an inevitable surge of doubt and regret in the wake of your statement.

You stare back, meeting him with nothing but clean, numb resolution. After a beat, his expression shifts from intrigue to that familiar good natured showmanship, putting his attention back on Jeff. 

“Here’s the thing, Jeffery,” Homelander says suddenly, cutting off the nonsensical mixture of excuse and apology Jeff had been sputtering. He claps a firm hand on the man’s shoulder. “Cockroaches. The city’s full of ‘em, you know? And I, well, I don’t give a fuck. I don’t have time in the day to squash every little roach I see.  But my girl?” He gestures to you without taking his eyes off the man. “She hates ‘em. Caaan’t fuckin stand them scuttling around. So you know what I do when my girl sees a cockroach, Jeffery?” Jeff, sweating profusely, offers a strained guess: “You squash them?” “Yeah,” Homelander says, voice warm and low in his throat. “I squash them. Goodbye, Jeffery,” he says. Before Jeff can so much as suck in a breath, Homelander closes his hand over the man’s mouth, snaps his neck, and tosses him over the edge of the balcony. By the time the body hits the ground, a broken neck will be the least of the mortician's concerns.

You throw your hands up over your mouth, stifling your gasp. Though it all happened in an instant, you witnessed every microsecond of it. The fear in his eyes, Homelander’s gloves sinking into the skin of his face, and the resounding crack of his bones. His death was instantaneous, and you saw it in his eyes.

You caused it.

Nausea sweeps through you in a wave. You gag behind your palm, turning away from the balcony.

“Sshhhhh,” Homelander hushes, catching you in his arms. “Heyy, it’s alright. Deep breaths. Hahah, look at you,” he purrs, nestling you against his chest. He rubs your back in slow, soothing sweeps. “Wow! Did not see that one coming. You must have–”

You kiss him. It’s clumsy, your teeth knock against his, but you just need him to stop talking. Your heart is racing a thousand miles a minute, and half of you wants to throw up while the other half of you is enraptured in warped exhilaration.

For the first time in your relationship, Homelander’s power truly feels like yours.

“Take me home,” you say against his lips, giving his collar an urgent tug. Your heart hammers painfully in your chest. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Homelander lifts you into his arms with surprisingly swift obedience, and stranger than that, without comment. Instead, he’s watching you with an intensity you can’t put a name to. He’s fixated on you, and even as he lifts up into the air with you, you cannot bring yourself to look away from him, either.

He flies you up, up, up, well beyond the horror of what was just committed. The wind roars in your ears and prickles your eyes, but you know it’s not the reason they water. Tears stream down your cheeks, an awful sickly feeling settling in your gut. When Homelander lands on his balcony, you catch your reflection in his glass doors.

Murderer, you think. Your tears run black with mascara, staining your face, as if to mock your grief.

What right do you have to grief?

Homelander steps inside, the glass door falling shut behind him. The wave of heat from the penthouse gives you goosebumps, a sharp contrast to the frigid night air. He sets you down, but doesn’t let you get far. He pulls you in with two gloved hands on either side of your face, pulling you in for an oddly chaste kiss. “God, that was–that was fucking incredible,” he exhales, followed by a giddy little laugh. He swipes at your tears with his thumbs. “Hey, hey, don’t cry, babe. Not for that fucking bottomfeeder. He was garbage, alright? I heard the bullshit he was feeding you, and I heard you throw it right back in his face,” he purrs, kissing you again, each press of his lips a little firmer, a little hungrier.

“He didn’t deserve to die,” you reply dully, hands pressed to his chest. You’re worried you’ll collapse without the support.

Homelander scoffs at that. “Please. Of course he did. These guys are all the same: sick little slime puppies stuffed into suits, oozing noxious snail trails everywhere they go. Trust me, that guy had it coming,” he says, kissing your forehead, your cheek. His lips brush the shell of your ear when he says, “His pocket was full of roofies.”

His words hit your system like a shock of ice.

“What?” You had a gut feeling about it, but to hear it confirmed… “He did?”

“Ohh yeah. Definitely not his first rodeo,” he says, drawing back to look at you. He’s smiling broadly, and as you take in his expression, you finally pinpoint that look in his eyes: it’s pride. Since the beginning, you have always assumed Homelander has a fascination with horrifying you, that he enjoys getting a rise out of you. You don’t expect comfort when you cry. You expect him to fuck you.

Instead, he’s openly admiring you. Brushing away your tears with gentle, persistent swipes of his gloved fingers. He kisses your forehead again. When he pulls back, you can’t help but ask him, “Why are you so happy about this?”

His brows pinch briefly, and his lips part on a slightly baffled little smile, like you’re asking him something you should already know the answer to. “Because, you silly goose,” he begins, kissing you again. “It turns out that you’re just… like… me,” he says, punctuating each word with a kiss. “And it means you’re never, ever gonna leave me.”

With that, he draws you into a tight embrace, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You can feel his contented smile against your skin. Your mind is alight with a static-like buzz so intense, you swear it’s vibrating your teeth.

He’s right. With one simple sentence, you’ve finally given yourself over to his mania. The phantom blood you have felt on your hands is now a real thing. Wielding Homelander like a weapon, you killed a man, and somehow… you’ve never been more relieved. The knot in your chest slowly begins to unravel itself, and for the first time in months, you take a breath that actually fills your lungs.

There is a weight gone from your shoulders that you hadn’t even realized you’d been carrying. As if you have been holding a bow drawn tight for months on end, you have released it, and your muscles can finally relax.

You don’t have to hold onto it anymore. That heavy, aching thing inside your chest that tangled around your heart and made each beat of it painful. You have feared succumbing for so long, and yet now that you have, you can relinquish the white knuckle grip you’d had on your own morality. The bubble has popped, and the blood is real.

The blood is real.

Homelander pulls back to look at you, still stroking you, soothing you as he might a frightened beast. Your breathing is sharp and irregular, and he doesn’t have to tell you that your heart is racing. It thunders in your ears. He cups your face in his hands, and you tilt your head back to meet his gaze. His own eyes are half-lidded, his lips parted. He’s watching you, palpable anticipation in his gaze, though for what you cannot say. Part of you wonders if, now that you’ve surprised him, he’s just waiting to see what you’ll do next.

You brace your hands on his chest. “Take off your clothes.” Your voice is quiet but firm.

His pupils dilate. With a twitch at the corner of his mouth, he takes his hands from your face, and slips off both of his gloves, dropping them to the ground. Your throat feels dry. You swallow, watching him peel open the flap of his suit top, revealing the fitted undershirt beneath. He shrugs out of it, and the padded bulk of it falls to the ground with a thump. One by one, he toes out of his boots, maintaining eye contact with you all the while.

His pants are next, heralded by the familiar metallic snap of his belt coming undone, followed by the hiss of his zipper. He pushes his pants and underwear down in one fell swoop, his cock bouncing free, already full and heavy. You take a step back, causing him to tilt his head curiously. You continue backwards, towards the bed, beckoning him with a finger. With that same fixated obedience, he follows you, taking his undershirt off on the way.

You’ve always thought him beautiful in the same way a forming hurricane or an encroaching thunderstorm is. You feel compelled to watch, to witness the creation of something incredible, even knowing full well it could destroy you. Perhaps the only thing more intoxicating is the notion of leashing such a disaster, and feeling it hum at your fingertips.

The back of your legs hit the edge of the bed, and you sit slowly. Your whole body is thrumming, your heartbeat pulsing between your thighs. You want him, and you have all the proof in the world that he wants you. Terrifyingly so. You think he might devour you, tear you apart to your barest threads, if not for the fact he would lose you in the process. 

Homelander stops barely a foot away from you. In his eyes, you see that same prickling anticipation. Your gaze drifts down over the scape of his chest, where swirls of thick dark hair betray his natural coloring. He’s broad, but nowhere near as bulky as the suit would lead folks to believe. He’s lean, his musculature cut as cleanly as polished marble. His hips curve into the perfect V, which guides the eye directly to the heavy swell of his cock.

You’ve never taken this much time to simply look at him. Every so often, you see the muscles in his stomach flex. His hands curl in and out of fists. He’s either growing impatient, or insecure. There was a time you never would have thought a man like the Homelander could be insecure, but you know better now. You know the way his eyes turn glassy when he fucks you, and how desperate he is to hear you say that you want him. That you love him.

Glancing up at him, you see that his breaths have deepened. He licks his lips when you look at him. His brows furrow slightly with his unspoken uncertainty. He cannot read your expression. When you look beyond him, to the mirror above your heads, you’re not certain you recognize yourself at all anymore. Tears have streaked mascara down your cheeks in sharp black lines, and darkened the circles beneath your eyes. There is a sharpness to you now that you’re not sure you’ve ever seen before. It’s like looking into the eyes of a strange animal wearing your face.

“Get down on your knees,” you tell him. His nostrils flare. You see the bob of his throat as he swallows, and then slowly, he sinks down onto his knees in front of you. Less than ten minutes ago, you watched him snap a man’s neck with the flick of his wrist because you told him to. Now, he continues to move how and when you tell him to.

Have you always had this power over him, or is this new? You wonder if, like so much else in your life, you were just too afraid to even realize it, let alone seize it.

You slide forward, perched on the edge of the bed, and lift your dress slowly up over your thighs. Homelander watches, transfixed by your every movement. His breath catches watching you slip your hand into your underwear, the way your knuckles press out against the thin cotton as you curl them, teasing yourself with the tips of your fingers. You massage a slow circle through your own slick, watching the tension build in his body.

With a breathy little noise, you push your fingers inside. Homelander’s eyes flicker up briefly to meet yours, swallowed by the black of his pupils, feral and hungry. His attention quickly drops back to your hand. He tilts his head very slightly, subconsciously angling to listen to the symphony of your fingers rocking in and out of your wet pussy. His nostrils flare on a slow inhale. His eyelids flutter briefly, as if the smell of you is intoxicating him.

“What does it smell like?” You ask, emboldened by his subservience.

“Heaven,” comes his answer, the word a rasp that falls readily from his tongue. He sounds parched.

“Do you want to taste it?” You press a third finger in, rocking your hips against your hand.

“Yes,” he answers just as quickly, just as needy.

Pulling your hand out, you push off your underwear. It falls to the ground, and you bring your fingers to his lips. He looks at you just before opening his mouth, tongue curling slightly, an invitation. You press all three into his mouth, barely getting the first knuckles past his lips before he’s closing down on them, sucking them deeper into his mouth with an obscene noise. He works his tongue between them, greedily licking every bit of wetness from your fingers.

Simultaneously, you slip down off of the bed, and into his lap, straddling him on your knees. His hands move instantly to your thighs, pushing your dress back up when it threatens to cover them again. His hands are impossibly warm, fingertips sinking into the beginning swell of your ass.

Reaching between your bodies, you curl your fingers around his shaft, and hold him steady. He lets out an answering moan around your fingers, blinking his eyes open. He’s flushed, eyes glazed over with the depth of his arousal. Holding his gaze, you lower yourself until the head of his cock presses to your cunt with a wet noise. You feel his teeth graze your fingers precariously, another moan muffled by them rocking in and out of his mouth. He pants fervently through his nose, brows tightly pinched.

You sink down just enough to feel the head of his cock begin to breach you before you lift back up, and then drop back to precisely the same level. You do this again and again, tormenting him with the soaking wet kiss of your pussy, each press louder than the last. He gives a pitchy noise wrung from the back of his throat, dull fingernails biting crescent dents into your soft skin. 

And then, all at once, you drop your weight down and envelop him fully, gasping at the shocking, abrupt fullness of him inside you. Homelander makes a noise somewhere between a moan and a growl, and a sudden sharp pain has you yanking your fingers out of his mouth, leaving a trail of blood dripping from his lips. “Ah, f-fuck, fuck, m’sorry,” he rasps, licking his lips of the crimson spill. “Sorry.”

You stare at the blood dripping down your fingers. Numbly, you wipe them on your dress. Homelander, through the haze of pleasure and desire, looks distantly confused by your response–or rather lack thereof–but he does not protest when you kiss him, licking the taste of your own blood and slick from his mouth.

Heedless of the blood you smear, you cup the sides of his face and begin to grind against him, adjusting to the aching fullness. He’s so wholly at your mercy that you can’t be bothered by the too-full hurt of your cunt or the sting of your bitten fingers. You focus instead on the way he huffs, expression knotted up like you’re the one who has wounded him.

“Fuck me,” you tell him breathlessly. Instantly, he snaps his hips up, shocking a fractured moan from you. He takes hold of your thighs and yanks you up, lifting off of his knees into the air. Your stomach flips with the feeling of weightlessness that hits before he lands back on his feet, hitching your legs around his waist. He sinks even deeper into you in this position. Homelander’s breaths are ragged, his strength barely contained while he bounces you on his cock. He doesn’t so much as break a sweat. You weigh nothing to him: the entirety of his exertion comes from trying not to break you.

“B-bed,” you tell him, unable to help but stutter with the way his cock is pounding into your cervix. He listens regardless, though he barely even stops fucking you to lay you on the bed. Beyond him, you lock eyes with yourself in the mirror above the bed. You watch yourself push your hands into his hair, staining his golden locks with your blood. You watch the muscles in his back ripple with every thrust. He’s holding you with fervency, one hand locked on your thigh while the other cradles the back of your neck.

The way he fucks you is animalistic, deep thrusts with little rhythm to them. You give his hair a sharp yank, and he lifts to meet your gaze, his own eyes bleary, clouded with lust.

“You love me?” You ask, your grip in his hair tight. You cannot hurt him, but you never wanted to. You’ve realized something much more important. You can control him.

“Yes,” he hisses through his teeth, voice thin. His thrusts grow more erratic, the thrum of his body like an engine against yours, practically vibrating with the tension of restraint trembling in his inhuman muscles. “Yes, yes, yes.”

“Say it,” you moan, arching your back.

“I love you,” he whines, the threads of control he has over himself snapping one by one. “Hhh, ah, I love you, I fffucking love you,” he chokes out, fucking you with a force you know will leave you bruised. You don’t care. You need it. You deserve it.

“I love you, too,” you keen, screwing your eyes tightly shut.

With that, Homelander loses it completely, slamming in one, two, three more times before he stills, burying himself as deeply as he can into you, holding you against him in a vice grip while he spills load after load of come into you. The sheer heat of it never fails to shock you, the flood of it so hot that it scorches.

Panting against your neck, Homelander gives a handful more gentle thrusts, shuddering through the aftermath of his release. He kisses your skin, nosing his way to your ear, your jaw, peppering kisses all the way to your lips. You kiss him back, albeit weakly, before the shock of his fingers pressing on your clit wrings a gasp out of you.

“You didn’t finish,” he murmurs, rubbing slow circles, firm enough to make your breath tremble. Your cunt quivers around his spent cock, and you both moan. He knows you so thoroughly, knows precisely how to move his fingers to take you apart piece by piece. You feel overly sensitive, already tender from the force of his thrusts, and despite how good it is, you whimper. The noise is just the beginning of the sob building in your throat, tears prickling hotly at your eyes.

Homelander pulls back at the sound of it, his brows furrowing. “Hey, hey, sshhhh,” he soothes, bringing his hand up to touch your face instead. His acknowledgement does nothing but bring your mind fully to the surge of emotion, and you begin to cry in earnest. “Sshhh. Don’t cry,” he whispers, kissing your cheeks, brushing away the salty streaks of your tears with his lips.

“I killed him,” you sob, taking in a ragged breath. “Oh my god, I killed him. I killed a person,” you keen, trying to twist away from the warmth of Homelander’s lips, the mint of his breath, but he holds you firmly in place.

“He would’a done worse to you,” Homelander reasons. You know he means this as a comfort. “You, and a whole lotta girls like you,” he says, continuing to kiss away your tears. He licks his lips. “You didn’t kill a person. You put down a sick dog.” You can feel his smile when he presses his lips to your jaw, your cheek, your forehead, like he simply can’t help himself. His pleasure is palpable. “You saved people.”

He kisses your mouth, and you don’t fight him. You close your eyes against the flow of your tears, and slip both hands into his hair, grabbing a tight hold of it. You kiss him hard, craving the same relentlessness he had fucked you with, but his lips remain infuriatingly soft against yours. You buck your hips just to feel the dull ache of your bruising, but he stops you short with a hand on your hip, pins you to the bed.

“Stop punishing yourself,” he says against your lips, tenderly kissing the corner of your mouth. “I’ll give you what you deserve.”

Your breath catches at the slip of his fingers back at your clit, coaxing a reluctant, trembling moan from you. He trails kisses down your neck, down to the neckline of your dress. As he descends, his cock gently falls from inside you. You feel the absence like an ice cold wound, a painful loss that drips from you. He doesn’t leave you longing, however. Pushing your dress up over your waist, he nestles himself between your legs, and slips his fingers into your leaking pussy, pushing them in with a wet squelch.

In the mirror above, you focus intently on the back of his head between your thighs. You’re not ready to look back into the eyes of your alien reflection. Instead, you let yourself focus on the slide of his fingers, and the sparks he ignites inside you when he crooks them just so. You exhale a shaky, pleased sigh.

“That’s it,” he coos, stroking your thigh with his other hand. “Let it go, pretty girl. Gonna make you feel so fucking good, you’re not even gonna remember who you are.” You wonder if he realizes the gravity of the appeal in what he’s saying, or if it’s simply his bravado speaking. Is this arrogance, or does he recognize the look of someone who hates what they see in the mirror well enough to know exactly what to say?

All logical thought falls away at the first hot, breathy swipe of his tongue. Your hips jerk, but yet again, he keeps you pinned. His fingers rock leisurely in and out of the creamy wet mess he’s made of your cunt, scissoring slowly on every outward pull. He swirls his tongue in figure-eights on your clit before eventually sucking it between his lips. You make a noise halfway between a moan and a sob, throat tight. 

You focus on the noise his fingers make fucking in and out of you, on the subtle way he hums while he devours not only you, but the dripping mess of his own come. His tongue occasionally dips down when his fingers pull back, and you can feel him licking at your cunt, lapping up his and your juices from between his fingers, insatiable for your combined taste.

“Ffffffuck,” he sighs, nuzzling at your clit, slurping and even gently nipping at you. “Taste like an angel. Like heaven.”

The devil was an angel once, you suppose. Was this corruption just as inevitable?

Homelander pushes three fingers in deep, and you reward him with a full, throaty moan.

“Good girl,” he purrs, pumping his fingers slowly and deliberately. “You’re gonna come for me, aren’t’cha, sweetheart? When you do, I want you to scream my name, alright? Scream it like it’s the only one you know,” he says, his voice frayed at the edges. He sounds far too riled up for a man who only just came inside you.

He only stops speaking to drag his tongue over your clit, or suck on it. He murmurs an endless litany of praise and filth into the space between your thighs, holding you steady as you tremble. There’s a pressure building within you so intense, the muscles in your stomach contract uncontrollably. It’s too much, the slow drag of his fingers sweet as sugar against the tender, convulsing walls of your cunt. You slip your hands into his hair, and though you can feel yourself babbling, you’re completely unaware of what you’re saying. You might be begging, or for all you know, reciting the pledge of allegiance. You don’t know, you don’t care. You’re wholly consumed by the warm, wet slide of his tongue, the rumble of his words against your skin, and the sinuous pull of his fingers.

Climax hits you like an earthquake, an immeasurable force that rips up through the very core of you, and when it does, you do as you were told, and you scream Homelander’s name.

The waves of pleasure that follow are indescribable. You’re battered relentlessly by pulse after pulse of tingling sensation, goosebumps prickling over every inch of your body. Your body jumps in time with each throb, and the only thing that keeps you from curling in on yourself is Homelander’s hand pressed to your stomach, holding you down while he continues to lick leisurely at your throbbing clit.

You’re crying again, fat tears rolling down from your eyes into your hairline. It isn’t grief, at least not exclusively. You feel like you’ve been untethered from reality, and every single sensation is simply spilling out of you in every way possible. Your breaths are quivering, gasped beasts all their own. “Stop,” you manage to plead, voice hoarse. “Please, Homel-lander, please–” Homelander hushes you gently, lifting from between your legs. His eyes are dark, his mouth shiny with your slick. He strokes soothing lines up and down your inner thigh while, with his other hand, he furiously jerks his cock. “S’alright, sweetheart. Look at me. That’s it, so fuckin’ pretty. Nngh, fuck. There’s my sweet girl. So… fucking… good… for me…” With one last grunt, he comes again, painting your used up pussy with the mess of it, earning a tired little jolt out of you before you settle back down.

Sucking in a deep breath, he blows it out slowly, sinking down onto the bed next to you, slipping his arm underneath you. You feel like a ragdoll as he pulls your body against his, loose-limbed and exhausted beyond measure. His chest is warm against your cheek, the circle of his arms more of a comfort than ever before. You sniffle, eyes bleary and tired, and curl both of your arms around his middle, embracing him as tightly as your feeble strength allows.

You aren’t sure there are words enough to describe the leaden weight of your bones. Your entire body is tingling like you’ve been electrified, buzzing with static from head to toe. Your mind, however, is blissfully empty. You easily lose yourself to the cadence of Homelander’s breaths, and the gentle way he strokes your hair.

“I love you,” you whisper. It’s a far cry from the power play of earlier. Now, you seek only validation. Assurance.

Homelander hums a warm chuckle, toying with your hair. “And I love you. I always knew, you know.” “Knew what?” You ask, blinking slow and heavy, your grasp on consciousness already leaving you. “I always knew you were perfect for me.”

What happened tonight, what you did, will have to be confronted eventually, but it won’t be tonight. Instead, you close your eyes, and as you have a dozen times before, you simply nod in response, and let Homelander soothe you into a deep, deep sleep.

Chapter IV: Violence/Passion

He's going to die here.

History

The cabin comes into view blurrily, almost like they’re just waking up. They didn’t doze off in the cabin, did they? That wouldn’t make a very good first impression on the Princess.

Though, this cabin doesn’t look like that first one. Its walls are formed from pale, rough stone, with openings in the sides to serve as windows. The doors are more of the same, cutting quite an impressive figure. Instead of a plain wooden table, there’s a metal altar holding the blade, and a couple loose planks lie askew on the floor. The cabin normally wouldn’t look like this on the first go-around, would it?

So why doesn’t Smitten remember what they did last time?

It’s probably not all that important. Even if he doesn’t remember, surely someone must. He’ll just have to go along.

“Well, boys?” he asks. “Shall we go and see what form our beloved has taken this time?”

No one says anything. That’s rude of them.

No one does anything, either. That’s a bit far for a prank.

“Very funny of you,” he says, listening for any sign that someone else is here. “Yes, you’ve got me this time, good joke, now let’s be off to fulfill our… destiny…”

It’s completely silent. There’s no one else here.

His shoulders drop, and he turns around to face the door to the outside. His body obeys, allowing him to see that the cabin is entirely empty, except for him.

That probably isn’t good.

Maybe something happened to the others. Maybe they’re somewhere outside. Maybe they’ve been tossed about to different cabins like this one.

If they are, he’s sure it’ll all work out. They’re resourceful people. Everything’s going to be fine.

Still, he should try to find them. He’ll just pop down to the basement, free the Princess from her imprisonment, and then the two of them can meet up with everyone else who’s also made their way out. It’ll be easy.

He leaves the blade on its altar. Wouldn’t want to give the Princess the wrong impression, if she has as little memory as he does.

The doors are heavy, resisting his attempts to wrench them open no matter how much he strains. Eventually, one of them folds and scrapes slowly across the floor, and the other follows a little more easily. The stairs beyond are cramped, stone walls pressing in on him, but they don’t look as though they’ll pose any obstacle. If those doors were to decide to close again, though, he might be in trouble.

Oh well. He’s sure the Princess will be more than capable of getting the two of them out, if the doors even do shut on them. The Narrator, conniving scoundrel that he is, is blissfully absent, and he was always the one that tried to meddle.

“Is that a challenger?” the Princess calls from the basement. Her voice echoes off the stone walls. “Finally. I haven’t had a good fight in far too long.”

A fight? Why would she want to fight him? They have the same goal!

Maybe she just got the wrong impression in some time he doesn’t remember. He should say something to put her mind at ease. “Fear not, Princess!” he cries. “I have no ill intentions towards you!”

She laughs. “Is that so? Why don’t you come down so we can meet face-to-face, then?”

This is progress! Probably. She does sound like she’s willing to talk. And he was planning to finish climbing down the stairs anyway.

The basement is less like a room and more like a cave, not much wider than the stairs. The Princess stands at one end, taking up most of the wall, chain in place on her wrist.

A pair of horns rise from her forehead, framing a set of spikes that look almost like the crown she usually has. The skirt of her dress is translucent, with a slit in the side, and a long tail curls around her. Her feet look more like hooves.

She’s beautiful.

Her eyes narrow onto his hands. “No little knife, huh? Did you forget to bring it with you?”

Is she talking about the blade? She must be convinced there’s no way out unless she’s cut free from her chains. “Fret not, fair maiden. We won’t need the blade for this.”

“Is that so?” The Princess grins. “Good.”

Smitten steps closer, reaching for the shackle on her arm. This is going well. He’ll slip her hand from the chains with no problem at all, and they’ll leave the cabin and go see what else is out there… as long as that mirror doesn’t show up again.

It won’t. It can’t. He won’t stand for it.

He should probably ask her name once they’re out, too. But one thing at a time. He’ll slip her hand from the chains…

His back lands on the hard stone floor, sending shockwaves through his bones.

The events leading up to the landing piece themselves together backwards. He landed on the floor because he fell. Why? Because the Princess pushed him. No, pushed isn’t the right word—she grabbed his arm and threw him to the floor. Why? Heck if he knows. All he did was reach for the chain.

He looks back up at the Princess, vision swimming back into place. She’s frowning at him. Why is she frowning at him? She ought to know he has no intention of hurting her, right?

“Are you really going to give up this quickly?” she asks.

His brain hasn’t finished pulling itself back together, so all he can say is, “What?” And, if he were being honest, that’s probably what he would say if he were in peak condition.

“You hit the ground once and you’re down for the count?” The Princess leans over him. “Did you just come down here to toy with me or what?”

Toy with… her? But he had no such intentions… right? “I can assure you, my intentions have never been anything but pure.” He pulls himself to his feet as his vision finally snaps back into one piece. “If you’ll allow me to remove that shackle, the two of us can go at once.”

The Princess looks down at the chain. “What, worried it’ll slow me down? You must be confident.” Before Smitten can figure out what she means by that, she begins to strain against the chain, metal groaning before it finally snaps. She’s free! This is great! “You’d better live up to the figure you’re making yourself out to be.”

“Oh, I would never dare mislead y—” Smitten begins, cut off by a fist landing on his shoulder and throwing him across the room. His flight is cut short by the wall of the basement, head directly striking the stone. Some imperceptible noise echoes in his ears.

Didn’t he just say she could trust him? Why doesn’t she trust him?

The world is slowly beginning to decide it would rather not remain in one place. Smitten wobbles on his feet as he takes a few steps towards the Princess, nearly having to lean on one wall for support. “Why would you… do that… my love…” he wheezes, lungs refusing to cooperate with him.

“What do you mean, why would I do that?” The Princess stares at him, her arms folded. “Why wouldn’t I do that? You did come down here for a fight, didn’t you? Or are you less honest than you claim to be?”

A… fight? He never said anything about a fight or that sounded like it was about a fight or fight-related or anything of the sort… right?

“I’m afraid I… don’t have any idea… what you’re talking about.” He slumps against one wall, legs unwilling to do their job on their own. “All I want is… to set you free.”

“And what if I don’t want to be free?” The Princess takes a step towards him—he thinks. It’s all a little blurry. “What if I want something else?” Another. Probably. “What if what I want is for you to fetch your little knife and fight me?” She’s either right in front of him or still by the back wall. It’s still unclear.

Smitten wobbles backwards. He can’t tell if it’s on purpose or not. “Th—that can’t be right. Freeing Princesses is always the right thing to do.”

The Princess grits her teeth. “You are impossible! Why don’t you start thinking for once so that I don’t have to!” She reaches out with her hand, faster than Smitten can see—not that that necessarily means it’s fast, with the way he is right now—and grabs his throat. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to kill you, right now, so you can come back with a half-decent head on your shoulders. And when you do, you’re going to take your little knife, and you’re going to march right down to this basement and fight me.”

The pressure on Smitten’s neck tightens. He’s going to die. He should probably say something nice before he dies. A nice little pre-death one-liner while he’s still pre-death. A nice little… that shouldn’t be too hard…

His meandering is cut off with a pop, or maybe it’s a snap, or maybe it’s more of a squelch or even a crunch. It’s still a little hard to tell what’s going on around him, and more so to put words to it.

But words don’t matter in some cases. No matter what combination of letters accurately capture whatever sound he hears, soon after everything goes dark, and he dies.

He shoots to his feet before he can take stock of the cabin he’s in. That part comes after. The walls are made from a pale, rough stone, with open holes for windows, and the doors to the basement are heavy and carved from the same material. The blade lies on a metal altar—

This is the same cabin.

The Princess’s final words to him dance just out of his grasp. He certainly wasn’t doing all right in the head by the time she killed him, was he? At least that’s over and he can approach her with a clear mind.

It must have been important, though, whatever she said. “I’m going to… you can come back… and when you do… right down to this basement.” There must have been something in between all that…

Oh! Of course! She must have seen how badly he was doing and killed him knowing he’d come back in one piece and be able to hold a proper conversation with her. How thoughtful of her!

He strides over to the doors with a bounce in his step. This time, he knows to brace himself in order to wrench them open.

The Princess is waiting at the bottom of the stairs, arms folded. Her face falls when she sees him. Why would she…?

“I thought I told you to bring your knife this time around,” she says. “Do you just not have it or what?”

Is she forgetting something? Is he forgetting something? “You must be mistaken. We don’t need to cut you free. If you’ll just allow me to—”

She growls. “Did everything that happened last time breeze through your empty head? If I wanted to be free, I would be.” She pulls against the chain, metal snapping and falling to the floor in pieces, leaving only the shackle around her wrist. “Now go and get that knife so we can fight.”

The memories that abandoned ship the moment Smitten hit his head start to drift back. “Going to… take… knife… right down to this basement… fight me.”

But that doesn’t make any sense. “Why would you want me to fight you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” She narrows her eyes. “Why don’t you? It’s fun. And it feels right.”

Smitten laughs a little as he backs away. “I don’t know if I’d exactly describe it that way, though I suppose… if it would make you happy…” There’s something wrong with this Princess. Not that there could possibly be anything wrong with any Princess—they’re all perfect in their own way—but this one has something wrong with her.

He does a little hop back to the base of the stairs. The Princess continues to watch him. “I’ll, ah, be going to fetch that blade now,” he says. “I shall return posthaste.”

Then he turns and bolts up the stairs, not stopping to catch his breath until he’s well and fully in the upper part of the cabin.

She wants to fight him. But that’s not… that’s not how this works, right? She’s supposed to want to be free. Sure, there were a couple Princesses that had other intentions, but that was only after they’d been wronged and were out to take righteous revenge!

…Did something happen to her in the time Smitten hasn’t been allowed to see? Is she trying to take out her anger on him? But that doesn’t sound quite right.

She wants to fight him. Not to kill him, presumably. Just to fight him a little. She doesn’t look angry—at least she didn’t, not before they properly got to talking. Maybe a little spar could be fun, if it’ll make her happy. She said it would be, so he’ll believe her.

“I hope you aren’t trying to run away,” the Princess calls from below. “What’s taking so long?”

Smitten jumps and scoops the blade from the altar. “Don’t worry, fair maiden! I’m merely steeling my nerves for our battle.” He may as well play it up. If a fight’s what she wants, he’ll do his level best to make it as dramatic as possible.

He steps down the stairs, taking in deep breaths to steady himself. He can’t let the Princess down.

She is waiting for him in the basement, and her face breaks into a grin when he comes into view. “Finally. Let’s get started, shall we?”

“We shall.” Smitten raises the blade, pointing it at the Princess. “En garde!”

The Princess doesn’t waste any time in launching herself across the room, fist narrowly missing Smitten’s face. He ducks past her—she’s tall—and whirls around, catching her arm with the blade as she aims another punch. A few drops of blood fly away from the nick and splatter on the floor.

He didn’t mean to do that.

She seems to take notice, stepping back instead of continuing her attack and glancing at the cut in her arm. It’s shallow, at least so he hopes, but a drop of blood still traces down her wrist as he watches.

“I’m sorry—” he stammers. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No. You didn’t. That’s your problem.” The Princess wipes at her cut with one thumb. “All this and you still don’t get what this is about.” She thrusts her arms out to the sides. “I died and I’m still fine. I killed you and you’re still fine. There are no consequences for us here. We can kill each other all we want, and nothing is going to happen.”

No. No, he was right. This one does have something wrong with her, no matter how he wishes he could look past it.

His hand trembles just enough for the blade to slip from it and clatter on the floor. “But I don’t want to kill you,” he says meekly.

“Don’t think of it as killing me.” The Princess takes a couple steps forward, and Smitten scrambles a couple steps back. Their dance as such is cut short by Smitten hitting the back wall of the basement, allowing the Princess to catch up to him and pick up the blade. “It’s not like I’ll stay dead. Now get up.” She tosses the blade at his feet. It lodges, tip-first, in the stone floor.

He’s going to die here a second time. He���s going to die because he couldn’t bring himself to give the Princess what she wanted. That’s not right. He’s supposed to give the Princess what she wants, but what she wants is supposed to be freedom, and—

The Princess’s fist smashes into the wall where Smitten’s head would have been if he hadn’t thrown himself the rest of the way to the ground. As it is, some of his feathers float lazily through the air as a reminder of what might happen to the rest of him if he can’t keep this up.

He tugs the blade out of the ground as the Princess turns for another strike, and stands to face her. He’s going to die again. She’s going to kill him, and he’s going to deserve it. He’s supposed to be giving her what she wants, because she’s always right, but…

The Princess is always right. If she thinks they can’t die, if she thinks that him trying to kill her is fun, well, she probably knows better than him.

He lashes out with the blade, carving a stripe up the Princess’s arm. She swings at him, fist colliding with his shoulder. Something that probably isn’t supposed to go pop goes pop. He strikes back, this time burying his blade in the Princess’s chest, somewhere in the vicinity of her heart.

The Princess steps back, laughing, the sound wetter than it should be. She grasps the handle of the blade and tosses it back.

Smitten catches it. Then he drops it again as his injured arm decides it’s had enough of its current working conditions and falls limp. The Princess pretends not to notice as he reaches down to pick it back up.

“See? Isn’t this so much more fun than talking?” the Princess asks once they’re face-to-face again.

“I suppose,” Smitten says, unable to get another word out as the Princess launches herself towards him.

He lashes out with the blade again and again, barely deflecting each of her attacks with stripes of red carved across her arms. The Princess’s fists connect as often as not—there’s a crunch as she lands a blow on his ribcage, then a snap as his already-injured arm is well and fully put out of commission, then a squelch that was probably some crucial organ.

He’s going to die here. That’s fine. The Princess said it would be fine.

She steps back as though meaning for her next punch to be her last. “Are you sure you’re really trying to kill me?” she taunts. “You’re not just trying to postpone your own death?”

Smitten tries to answer, to say, No, of course not, I would never dare to imagine going against your wishes, but something is very, very broken in the parts of him in charge of speaking, and all he manages to do is inhale blood.

The Princess seems to notice. “I’d say you’ve only got a few seconds left this time around. Why don’t you make them count?” She holds out her arms. “Go on. Stab me—unless your heart isn’t in it.”

My heart… is always… in everything. Smitten raises the blade with his remaining arm, steadying it as much as he can. I hope this makes you happy. He brings it down with as much force as he can muster, right over her heart.

Then he falls, and none of his limbs opt to catch him.

The Princess continues to stand over him, unfazed even by the blade in her heart. Assuming it even made it to her heart.

Her sitting down beside him is the last thing he sees as his vision fades to a sort of reddish black. “Were you even trying to kill me?” she asks, followed by, “No. You were.” There’s a sound like she’s leaning back against the basement wall. “You’re no good at this. Even if you come back with the passion you had at the end, you still won’t be able to kill me.”

He says nothing, of course. He’s not sure he can even fully understand what she’s saying.

“You’re not meant to be here,” she continues. “If you were meant to be here, you’d be meant to fight me. And you’re obviously not meant to fight anyone.” Her hand lands on his neck, fingers pressing into his feathers as though searching for something. A pulse? Does he still have one of those? “Is there someone else out there who’s meant to be here? Is that what this is?”

If she keeps talking after that, Smitten doesn’t hear any of it. Everything goes dark—darker than it already is—and he dies.

He shoots to his feet before he can take stock of the cabin he’s in. Every piece of it lines up with how it looked the last time, anyway—same pale stone walls, same heavy double doors, same blade on the same metal altar. He grabs the blade without even thinking.

He needs to go back downstairs and apologize. He failed to live up to her wishes. Should he try to make it up to her? Give her the fight she deserves? He did make a promise to her. Or maybe he just thought it. Or thought he thought it. The latter half of the last go-around is a bit fuzzy again.

By the time he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he’s made up his mind. He raises the blade and charges towards the Princess—

—And she catches it before he can close the distance, tip of the blade sinking into the palm of her hand. She twists her wrist, and Smitten’s grip breaks before the blade can wrench free.

“Does your brain just stop working after you’ve been beat up enough?” she asks, tugging the blade out of her hand. There’s a visible hole in the back of it where the tip broke through the other side. “I told you, we’re done here. I’m going to find someone whose heart is actually in this.”

Smitten sputters, still in the process of grasping that the blade is no longer in his hand. “My heart is in this! It would be impossible for me to not put my entire heart into anything I endeavor to accomplish!”

“So I didn’t just disarm you before you could land a hit on me?” The Princess glances at the hole in her hand before tugging on the chains once more. They splinter just as easily this time as they did the previous two. “You’re not cut out for this, loverboy. Stick to writing poetry or whatever it is you’re supposed to do.”

“I can fight!” Smitten follows close behind the Princess as she strides up the stairs. She ducks a little to avoid hitting her horns on the doorway. “If you’ll allow me another chance, I can assure you I will not let you down a third time.”

The Princess glances over her shoulder. “You don’t actually want that.”

“I do! If a fight is what you want, I will gladly—”

She tosses the blade to him, and he fumbles the blood-slicked point of it, barely managing to keep his grip. “You’re just saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear. And it is. Just not from someone who’s lying.”

Smitten extracts his hands from the blade, looking around in vain for something to wipe his hands on that isn’t his own cape. He settles for smearing the excess blood across the cabin wall. “I would never lie to you.”

“Oh?” the Princess asks, eyes glinting. “If you’re so honest, then tell me: Was it fun?”

Of course it was fun. The Princess said it was, and it clearly was for her, and anything that makes the Princess happy is good enough for him. Right?

“I’ve… had more enjoyable experiences,” he finally admits.

She nods and turns her attention to wrenching the outer door open. It’s not as heavy-seeming as the ones to the basement, but maybe that’s just because she’s so much larger than him. It’s not as though he ever tried to open it himself. “There’s more of you, right?” she asks.

“Yes. Several.”

“Then there’s someone out there who doesn’t have to lie when he says he gets it.” The Princess steps back from the door. “Let’s go find him already.”

Smitten nods. “Certainly. Say, before we leave, you wouldn’t happen to have a name?”

She looks over her shoulder. “Adversary. You?”

“Smitten. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

The Adversary scoffs. “Suits you. Come on.”

They don’t get more than a step into the outside world before freezing again.

Everything is… meat. The cabin sits atop a hill of smooth skin that collapses into fleshy lumps of meat at its base, and the path, instead of packed dirt or smooth stones, looks more like the bones of a spine. In place of trees, clawed fingers reach from the ground, meat bared to the world and webs of translucent meat strung between their knobby bones. Smitten can’t resist glancing at his own hands and noting the similarity.

“So. Meat,” the Adversary begins. “Not normal.”

“No,” Smitten agrees. “Meat is most certainly not normal.”

The Adversary takes a few steps forward, hooves sinking into the meat with an array of smushes and slushes and squishes and sounds that can scarcely be put into writing. Smitten follows suit.

He can feel the meat between his toes. Also sticking to the bottoms of his feet, and wrapping above his feet. It’s very squishy.

There’s little reprieve from the meat. If he tries to pull his attention away from the sensations beneath his feet, there’s the sound to worry about. If he ignores the sound, there’s the smell of blood filling the air. And that’s to say nothing of the sight—the only place he can look without finding meat is the back of the Adversary’s head.

At least his focus on her means he notices when she suddenly stops walking, and he’s saved the embarrassment of crashing into her. He still almost does, losing his footing on the meat for a second before she catches him.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

She points across the meat. “That’s another one of you, right?”

Smitten follows her arm to the horizon. She’s right. Between a pair of meat hands is a figure wearing a long, black cloak, veil hiding his face at this distance. Next to him is a smaller figure, with a dress and a tail flicking behind her.

He can’t be sure about the second figure, but he certainly recognizes the first.

The two figures pause, clearly having noticed them at the same time. The shorter one turns to the taller as though saying something, but Smitten has no intention of giving them enough time for him to be the one to approach.

He strides across the meat, for once able to ignore every sensory detail of the stuff, and soon comes face-to-face with the worst one of the bunch.

Cold tilts his head to one side. “Oh. You’ve escaped. Good job.”

Leading with sarcasm, is he? Smitten has no intention of allowing him to have his way. He grips the front of Cold’s cloak and shoves him against the nearest meat hand. “I’m more surprised you didn’t leave your Princess rotting in the basement,” he growls. “Are you just toying with her? Does she know what sort of monster you really are?”

The Princess that was with Cold glances between him and Smitten, brow furrowed as though trying to figure out what to say.

“Ha! And here I thought you weren’t a fighter.” The Adversary seems to have no such issues. “Looks like there’s one person you’re supposed to fight.” She steps up behind him with a squelsh—she’s so tall she doesn’t have to strain to get a good look at Cold’s face. “Don’t know if it’s the same way for him, though.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Cold levels his gaze with Smitten’s, still not bothering to struggle against him. “If he actually followed through on his promises, I might be interested in seeing them play out.”

Smitten tightens his grip. “I am no liar. You would do well to mark what I say—I will drag you into the depths of my misery and leave you there to drown.”

“Been there. Done that.”

The other Princess seems to have finally snapped. “Would one of you shut up and explain what you’re talking about?”

Cold shrugs. “It’s not that interesting.”

“Not that interesting?” Smitten shoves him further into the meat with a wet smeesh. “You murdered my true love in cold blood. And so I took my revenge.”

“Was that really intended to be revenge? I thought it was just an attempt at reuniting with your ‘true love.’ Did you think I would mind being stabbed?”

Has he no limit to his insults? “Perhaps I hoped it would snap you into something capable of sympathy.”

The Princess sighs. “We get it. His brain is broken. Can you cut it out now so we can go somewhere with less meat?”

Fine. In the interest of the Princess being allowed to go somewhere with less meat, Smitten releases his grip on Cold’s cloak. Cold remains suspended on the meat hand for a moment, making no move to extract himself, before he peels off its surface with a long, drawn out squueeemch and lands on his knees with a pair of squishes.

“Sticky,” he observes, then stands (with a pair of ssspops) and turns back to the meat hand. “I wonder—”

“Nope! Not going through this again!” The other Princess grabs Cold by the arms and yanks him away from the meat hand. “Let’s go! We’re leaving!”

The Princess leads the procession, dragging Cold behind her despite his weak protests (“One couldn’t kill me, could it?”). Smitten follows close behind.

“If I may, could you tell me your name?” he asks the Princess. “My own is Smitten, and this—” he indicates the Adversary, who is currently trailing at the back of the pack— “is the Adversary.”

“We’re doing names now?” The Princess wrinkles her nose. “Witch is fine.”

Is she… surprised he’s asking for her name? No, of course she is. Of course Cold would never extend such a courtesy. “I’m guessing he hasn’t bothered to make a proper introduction? Allow me to correct such a grave error. This is—”

“I’m Cold,” says Cold.

The Witch turns to stare at him. “Really? In that cloak?”

“He means it as his name,” Smitten explains. “Though I’m not surprised he didn’t bother to adequately clarify.”

Before any arguments can start up again, the Adversary cuts in. “Do you two know where we’re going?”

The Witch shrugs. “Not really. We were following a river, but then it started to look like blood and he—” she jerks her thumb in Cold’s direction— “started asking me how I thought it’d taste, so I dragged him away from it. Now we’re just heading anywhere that isn’t made of meat. Unless you have a better idea?”

“No. Anywhere that isn’t meat is fine. Besides, now we know there really are other people out there.” Smitten hazards a glance back to see that the Adversary’s face has split into a sharp-toothed grin. “Which means there’s someone out there I can fight.”

The Witch whirls around so sharply Smitten fears she may have given herself whiplash. “What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Smitten tunes out the remainder of the discussion. He’s already heard it all. He doesn’t need a second reminder.

Kinktober Fic 1

Kinks: corruption and dacryphilia

Other content: daddy kink (it's Chan, I have to), lingerie, and overstimulation

Gender neutral afab reader

980 words

Happy birthday Chaniel! I'm a liiiiittle late, but it's fine

Chan has been nothing but the sweetest man in the world in your entire relationship so far. It's kind of insane honestly, especially compared to the other guys you've been with or talked to. In the realm of the sexual it's even more clear, with how he checks on you constantly, something that probably hadn't even crossed the mind of those other guys.

So, yeah, Chan's been great. But right now, you want more from him and you know you won't get it unless you beg and convince him that you really want it. Good thing you have a plan.

Buying the skimpiest and prettiest little set of lingerie you could find, in a nice baby blue, exuding innocence that just says 'ruin me'. Now you just have to hope that Chan gets the hint. Though you are not above begging for it.

Good thing to, cause it turns out you just might have to. There's nothing strictly *wrong* with what's happening, of course not, you just need a whole lot more than what he's giving. And you know he can give more.

You take a little bite into his neck and then, "Channie."

He stops, clearly your tone or something is different, even if you didn't strictly mean for it to be.

"Yes, angel? Is something wrong?" He's so adorably concerned, you feel bad for making him worry about something like this.

"No, nothing's wrong just. How do I say this."

"You know you can tell me anything, darling. Anything you need, anything you want." Oh what a sweet man he is, not a clue what is about to come out of your mouth.

"Chan, I want you to ruin me. To make me dumb, to make me cry, get just shy of completely breaking me. I know how much you go to the gym, I know you can. And I bet you want to. Daddy." You lean back and blink at him coyly through your lashes.

As if you hadn't heard him refer to himself jokingly as 'daddy' one too many times and caught on. The sudden title doesn't even seem to process for him, it's as if you've just stun-locked him by accident. It takes a minute, and you start to wonder if you've gotten it all wrong, and you projected your desires onto him.

"You want me to make you cry? Tell me one more time that you want it, baby.

"Daddy, please. Wouldn't I be so pretty if I was laying there crying because you make me feel too good?"

His head falls back and he groans loudly, his eyes closed.

"Alright, yeah. Yeah, I can do that. Daddy can do that darling."

At first, you worry he's hesitant, holding back and not actually committed to making you cry, and you begin to whine about it. Chan shushes you, with his grin a little wild, he clearly has a plan that you can't see.

He fills you up perfectly, as always, and makes you feel so good. At this point he knows exactly what to do to make you fall apart, and he's as attentive as always. Then he doesn't stop. Usually he gives you a break before he continues to make himself cum, but this time he didn't. You hardly have time to think about it though, since the sensitivity makes you begin to whine and squirm a little. It's not bad, just different, and you're nowhere close to asking him to stop.

This time around he cums first, and you're so close that he just fucks you right into it after. Now, he does take a break, mostly for practical reasons. But he wastes no time replacing his cock with his fingers, and you gasp and moan out abruptly. It's just two, but the way you're stretched out means he can easily fit in a third, and he does. Two orgasms chained together and chasing a third has you nearly thrashing a bit more fervently now. This is what you asked for, and still you wouldn't dream of asking him to stop.

You're so close now that two little brushes of his thumb over your clit has you cumming, and it takes hold of your body in a way very new to you. Your back arches and doesn't allow you to force it down, though you can't try that hard right now.

"You okay, lovely? That one looked pretty straining." Chan pulls back, hovering over you with a slight furrow in his brow.

You smile up at him, nodding. "So good. You make me feel so good, Channie. But I haven't cried yet."

Chan raises his eyebrows at you, checking if you're serious. When you just nod again eagerly he shakes his head and sighs. "Alright, what my baby wants, my baby gets."

He goes straight to three fingers this time, and your back arches and you clench down on them. You're still so sensitive and not prepared for the sudden sensation. It only gets worse, or better, when he puts his mouth on your clit, tonguing at it. Your hands grip at his hair, trying in futility to push him away while your legs squeeze together around his head.

"Channie, Channie, Channie!"

"Nope, that's not what you call me. Say it properly and you can cum."

"Ah, sorry sorry. Daddy please! So close, so good, please. I need it."

"There you go, go ahead. Wanna taste you."

You finally feel the tears build and fall from the corners of your eyes, and they fall fast. There will be a print on the pillow tonight to remember this by. Your body is tired, not making you contort into odd positions, but still twisting feebly away, even if you don't really want to get away. Chan stops as soon as you start whimpering too pathetically.

"There's the tears. You got what you wanted, baby."

A stoic, quiet hero and flirty villain have been captured by supervillain. When it comes time for them to be beaten/tortured for info, the hero insults and provokes the guards, which is very out of character. Whenever the villain tries to stop it, the hero brings the focus right back on themselves. After the guards leave, the Villain realizes the hero was trying to protect them and confronts them about it, obviously worried. They should escape in the end, as a treat. Your writing is always great

“I’d advise you to shut that stupid mouth of yours,” the guard snarled. “Or else I’ll have to break a few bones.”

“Oh, are you always as charming as nameless roadkill?” the hero asked, raising their eyebrows curiously. The villain’s eyes shot to their nemesis for the probably hundredth time on this very very long day.

In their head “shut up, shut up, shut up—” got repeated over and over again, just like a broken record. They couldn’t believe this was happening. Being captured with their nemesis was one thing but their nemesis provoking absolutely everyone who set a foot into the cell, was something else entirely.

The guard, even more furious than before, punched the hero right in the face, hard enough to make the villain flinch at the sound. However, the hero only laughed, spitting blood onto the cold floor.

“Ohhh, you’re one of the weak ones, huh?” the hero asked as a smug smile decorated their with blood covered teeth. The villain’s jaw dropped. They’d never heard the hero say so many insults in ten minutes. They’d never even heard a single insult escaping their mouth. They’d never seen them smile as cockily as right now.

“They don’t mean it like—” the villain started but they got cut off.

“What does it feel like to have a face only a mother could love?” the hero asked. It earned them another punch to the face and the villain feared they might be beaten to death.

Luck was on their side though, the two other guards somehow got a grip on the provoked one and managed to drag them back. They said something about having orders and talking to their boss as they managed to pull their protesting and cursing coworker out of the cell.

As soon as they were gone, the villain turned around to the hero.

“What the fuck? Do you wanna get killed?” they hissed. The hero was almost back to being the quiet version of themselves but they licked the blood off their lips and stared right back at the villain as their nose was still bleeding.

“You’re right. I should’ve gone for the crotch. I’ll kick them next time. I’ll manage easily.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“What is wrong with you? What happened to your flirting?” the hero asked. “I actually miss it.”

“This is definitely not the right time to be flirt—” The villain stopped, their mind working relentlessly. Whenever the guards had communicated with them, the hero had jumped between them. The hero had provoked them whenever the attention had been on the villain.

When they’d been captured, the hero had shielded the villain. They’d pushed them out of the way. They’d steered the attention towards them.

“…did you just protect me?”

“I flirted with you,” the hero said, grinning at them. They looked around the cell aimlessly.

“God, be serious for a second, please,” the villain begged. “You shouldn’t have said those things.”

“Trust me, we’ll get through this. Relax, I’ve got everything covered.”

“Did you protect me?” the villain asked again. It seemed unreal to them. Of course, the villain didn’t flirt with everyone. They were genuinely interested in the hero but receiving something close to affection from them…it was a terrible thing. It was hope.

The hero looked back at the villain again and there was a glimpse of their seriousness back. Their grin had died.

“Yes, I protected you.”

“Why?”

The hero didn’t answer.

no more boops? have a fic instead!

rating: Mature relationships: Erwin Smith/Mike Zacharias, Levi Ackerman/Hange Zoë

summary: Teleworking at Erwin's place grants Mike a front row seat to his boss honoring a stupid dare. Let's be honest, though: it has other perks.

additional tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, slightly kinky, Light BDSM, very light actually most of it is only mentioned, Based on a Tumblr Post, i gave Nanaba a family name for the narrative, i also gave her a couple heart attacks. also for the narrative!, Tumblr Prompt, Mike and Hange both wearing their boyfriends' shirts Challenge: complete, Office Romance

inspired by:

enjoy!!

“To conclude this meeting and another productive week, I’d like to have everyone’s attention for a few of our most pressing matters.”

Oh, he’s going to do it now, Mike realizes.

For the hundredth time in the last hour and a half, he has to check that both his microphone and camera are offline. He’s not usually so easily spooked about these things, but it’s one thing to want your privacy during a meeting with twenty people and the company’s CEO himself making a presentation, and it’s another to have to hide the fact that you’re teleworking from said CEO’s penthouse apartment every Friday because you’ve been secretly —Mike’s decided that drunkenly confessing to Nanaba a few weeks back doesn’t count— fucking each other for months now against all company guidelines.

He almost feels sorry for not warning his friend Hange, the only one besides Erwin and a few less highly ranked colleagues who’s currently got their camera on —and who is probably unaware of that fact, seeing how their crumpled shirt is hanging open as far as he can see— for what’s about to happen, but he couldn’t do that without giving himself away.

“I’m going to need Business Development, Sales and Marketing to work together closely on the Titan project next quarter. Zoë, Ackerman and Zacharias, as respective heads of these divisions, I’ll require that you regularly meet and update me directly on this matter. It’s a great challenge, but I have no doubt your BDSM task force, as I’ve labeled it, will tackle it under the deadline I stipulated earlier.”

It’s probably unnoticeable to everyone else with his camera so high on his laptop’s screen, but Mike knows he didn’t imagine the way Erwin’s eyes just settled on him, all the way over where he’s lounging on the comfy couch in his boss’ home office, when he said the acronym Mike dared him to place. Knowing this was coming does little to stop Mike’s shock at hearing the awfully casual way he enunciated those letters, and it’s physically painful to have to contain his hilarity —Erwin’s microphone is definitely still on and it’s not that big a room— when he glances back down and sees Erwin actually put it into bold, huge characters onto an otherwise blank slide.

His eyes catch movement on his screen then, and he realizes that some screens that were previously showing faces have suddenly gone dark.

His friend Hange's, however, hasn’t. In fact, they’re currently losing their mind over what just happened, and they’re definitely unaware of their camera being on if the image of them picking up their laptop and running into another room before settling it down in front of Levi as they hurriedly gesture at —Mike’s guessing since their microphone is still thankfully muted— Erwin’s scandalous slide is anything to go by.

It’s not unusual for Hange and Levi, two of the most important people in this company and annoyingly close friends —who, in Mike’s opinion, are two close idiots who really are in love with each other and should get together already— to be spending teleworking days together.

But something is… off in this picture.

Then Mike realizes, now that he’s seen them standing, that Hange’s shirt’s probably been hanging open because it’s obviously several sizes too small. And, before Levi’s eyes comically widen and he extends his arm towards their camera to turn their tiny window black as well, it finally clicks in Mike’s brain.

That wasn’t just Levi.

That was Levi and his naked torso, sculpted by the endless hours he spends in the same gym Mike trains at, and covered in hickeys.

Mike steals a glance at Erwin, but his boss is now calmly calling the end of the meeting, his usual poker face on although there’s no way in hell he didn’t notice what just transpired.

Before he can think of addressing it out loud as Erwin turns his computer off and stands from his chair, Mike’s phone chimes with Nanaba’s special ringtone. He sighs and picks up, knowing making his best friend wait after these very interesting last few minutes isn’t the best idea.

“Mike, what the fuck?” She starts, and Mike rolls his eyes as he rethinks of the countless times she’s threatened him with days long HR seminars about his swearing. “You and Eyebrows did this on purpose, didn’t you? Hange’s freaking out so bad right now!”

She’s being so loud the sound of her voice carries way further than Mike’s phone speaker, and Erwin mouthes the nickname back at him with obvious amusement, now close enough to sit with him on the couch.

“Well, first of all, I didn’t know their camera would be on,” he says, trying not to sound as defensive as the guilt he feels about his other friend’s distress wants him to. “And besides, it serves them right for not telling me they're finally hooking up with Levi! Did you know and forget to tell me by any chance?"

Mike shares a glance with Erwin at that, who shakes his head condescendingly at his outrage —and if Mike wasn’t almost sure his boss had figured his two friends out before they all just got accidental proof of their relationship, now he is— and extends one arm over the back of the couch to scoot even closer to Mike’s lap, before casually starting to leave feather light kisses along his neck.

“You do not have a fucking leg to stand on here, Mister Secret CEO Boyfriend,” Nanaba scolds over the phone, making Mike freeze at the unexpected title, even as the pressure of Erwin’s lips only increases against his sensitive skin. “Which, by the way, I know this was his idea and not yours, you’re not twisted enough to come up with something like this. And I know I said I wanted to make friends with the big boss now that you two are doing the horizontal tango, but I’m not so sure it’s a good idea after—

“That’s alright, Miss Fischer,” Erwin interrupts, taking advantage of the speechless state his hickeys have left Mike into, sounding way too unbothered for their current predicament. “I’m not here to make friends anyway.”

There’s a sudden squeal followed by the muffled sound of Nanaba possibly trying to catch her phone before it falls from her grip.

“Erw— Mister Smith? Oh my God. Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Sir, Mike never said… I mean, had no idea you could overhear—”

“It’s alright,” Erwin says again, pausing to nibble at the skin over Mike’s collarbone, who’s trying to glare at him even though he knows it’s a lost cause. “I’ll see you Monday, Miss Fischer. Have a restful weekend.”

“Yes, Sir. Sorry again. I’ll see you on Monday, Sir.”

Erwin takes the phone away before she’s even done and throws it behind him on the cushions, not bothering to check that the call effectively cut —although Mike’s sure it did, because Nanaba sounded absolutely terrified.

“You just terrorized your HR Director,” he tries, still panting from Erwin’s most recent attention to his neck.

“I know,” Erwin singsongs like he just got praised instead of scolded, nipping along Mike’s jaw playfully now.

“Did you do it because of the nickname, or because I told you she had a crush on me back when we started at the company?”

Erwin chuckles, his breath fanning over Mike’s overheated skin in the process, and draws back far enough to look him in the eyes.

“Come on, I don’t hold such childish grudges,” he says smoothly, predatory smile firmly in place.

Mike bites back his own smile, and tries to keep his face neutral.

“You know I’m aware that you’re lying, right?”

Erwin only grins wider and lets his hand travel along his torso, down his abdomen, and finally cups him briefly over his pants, tearing a hiss out of him that effectively ruins his attempt to appear unimpressed.

“And you know I’m aware of how much that turns you on, right?” he asks in his ear.

"Fuck. Kiss me,” Mike orders.

He doesn’t often use this tone of voice, but you'd need to be blind not to notice the surprising effect it has on such an authoritative figure as Erwin Smith.

But his boss still isn’t one to give up control that easily, as assure the previous times they’ve been together in bed —or this couch, his kitchen, his bathroom... even under his on site desk one memorable time— combined with the way their lips fight for dominance the second they connect and the rough hands that immediately begin tearing at his clothes —well, at Erwin’s shirt that he borrowed today, actually, so Mike really couldn’t care less about the buttons sent flying around the room right now.

Mike lets out a gasp as Erwin pushes him firmly onto his back and trails his hands over the skin he’s just uncovered. His fingers find Mike’s nipples and pinch them, reaching that perfect line between pain and pleasure right away as Mike curses as much as he blesses how well Erwin’s come to know his body in only a few months of casual —is it still casual? Erwin didn’t exactly react to Nanaba calling him Mike’s boyfriend earlier— sex encounters.

The edges of his mind are already getting fuzzy, but Mike doesn’t let himself completely fall under Erwin’s spell yet.

One of his hands cups the back of Erwin’s head and adjusts the angle with enough force to bury his face in his neck, tickling his skin with the facial hair he knows Erwin finds irresistible and unexpectedly biting down, hard. It’s definitely going to leave a bruise; but for one, it’s low enough that Erwin will be able to hide whatever faded mark is left after the weekend under a high collar shirt; and this move is one of Erwin’s weaknesses that’s never failed before.

It doesn’t disappoint now, either, and Erwin moans loudly and goes slack enough at the sudden teeth impact to let Mike switch their position and land on top of him instead.

“You really shouldn’t lie to me, Mister Smith,” he growls as he settles on top of him, rotating his hips so his ass rubs against the hardening erection in Erwin’s pants even as he brings one hand to wrap his around his throat. 

He spreads his fingers around his airway, teasing gently before he starts squeezing.

“Wait,” Erwin chokes out suddenly.

Mike lets go of his neck at once, dropping the act and cupping his cheek instead.

“Red?” he asks, searching Erwin’s eyes for signs of pain.

He tried to erase the surprise from his voice but knows he only partially succeeded —choking is certainly not where they’ve ever drawn the line before. Then again, if that’s what Erwin needs right now, of course he’ll stop.

“No, of course not,” Erwin says, dismissing his concerns with a scoff. “But don’t you want your assignment first?”

“Oh. Well, sure, but why… I mean, what is it, do you think I’m going to fuck your brains out so hard you won’t remember when I’m done with you?” he teases, grinding against him again.

“Actually, yes,” Erwin breathes through a tender smile.

There’s no trace of humor in his tone or on his face now, and Mike is split between a surge of white hot arousal at knowing his lover genuinely thinks that highly of him, and near-overwhelming affection for the sometimes disarmingly honest, always unpredictable, and forever complicated man he’s currently pinning down on expensive leather they’re about to ruin.

“Alright,” he concedes, putting both hands on each side of Erwin’s head and stilling his movements. “What inappropriate word do you charge me to use in workplace conversation next week, Sir?”

Erwin curls his index to coax Mike closer. He follows the order and leans over him until Erwin’s able to take his lower lip between his teeth and suck on it, and Mike’s groan lingers even after he’s let go with a loud pop.

“C.B.T,” Erwin enunciates.

Mike closes his mouth and swallows. Hard.

Erwin smirks up at him, his clever hands using the distraction to unbutton and unzip Mike’s pants in one fluid movement.

ﾟ｡ What type of comfort does your soulmate get from you? ⋆｡⊹

I was about to call it a day (with my sleep deprived and messed up body clock), but I'm suddenly called upon to make this PAC. This is actually my first time doing a PAC reading, but I have been wanting to try this for the longest!

❅ ੈ ⋆｡⊹ ⋅ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

pls do take note, choose a pile carefully! you may be drawn to more than one pile, so one may be your energy, and the other may be your future partner/lover/soulmate. do pick what mostly draws you in!

these messages and the context of my readings are from intuition and practice. this is a general reading as well, so do take what only resonates. sending love ♡

feel free to give feedback as it’s very much appreciated!

❅ Yule 

do not repost © winterspiel (2022)

༘⋆‧˚ pile 1 ⊹ ⋅* ⟡

"You're my rest after a long day." Those words come to mind as your person looks at you with a release of a long breath of tiredness. You seem to be their sense of relief; your presence alone can ease their worries. Even after a long exhausting day, you can wash away their raging thoughts with your calming, gentle eyes. 

“I can trust my guts and intuition with you.” They feel calm around you. Even if it's not something to be proud of, or be celebrated over drinks, they can tell you those thoughts in their mind with ease. Their words can be sharp and not quite discerning. It happens. They are tired and frustrated. Sense of judgment gets clouded up by exhaustion. But they are with you, so it’s fine. You are understanding. They can easily open up even with their innermost thoughts.

“Even if it's something negative that's letting me down, or something unfair and a disproportional situation that's making me sad, you’re there to lend an open ear.”

They might have been through rough things or unfair stuff in their life, and you seem to have been there to comfort them on that aspect. You seem to be very close or have an intimate bond with this soulmate. They might have been your best friend (they’re the best type if ever you’d also go the romantic route) or you’re the type to go through “the best friends to lovers trope”. I am reading that type of energy on this pile.

“I know you listen and won't bat an eye.” There is no judgment as to why they are an open book to you. If it's time to be serious, they’re the type to be quiet and you both master this energy together. You and your soulmate have a good synergy.

Even if life is full of uncertainty, at least they can forget for a while and focus instead on your time together. Nothing else matters as they enjoy their time spent with you. Whenever you're around, they’re at peace.

“In your presence, I am open. I am whole.”

⟡

cards: The High Priestess, 3 of Cups Rx, The Moon, Justice Rx

༘⊹

key words: taurus or virgo vibes, dinnertime, too tired to have dinner, worn-out socks, that feeling of exhaustion seeping out or letting steam out of your body when you take off your shoes/clothes, couch, movie that you don’t need to bring much attention onto, chill movie, television noise as background, leaning onto shoulder.

⋆‧˚ pile 2 ⊹ ⋅* ⟡

“I feel hopeless, I'm probably not pretty or set to the standards…” Coming off sad here from the beginning, your soulmate may be feeling inadequate. Based on the standards or what’s needed for society. They don’t feel enough or maybe feel lacking. Everything seemed so unfair and society's views and they are tired as hell of this type of self-doubt. Though with you, Pile 2, you are not the type to care about those things. You don't seem to care about the superficial. You’re who's likely to have that “F-ck it!” energy, which they admire a lot from you. You always seem to radiate that energy that you walk at your own pace, and you’re rocking the hell out of it. I think the way of passion seeps through how I write this, holy– it is obvious how very fire energy you are Pile 2 (If I’m wrong then, sorry xD). I also sense Venusian energy leaning for you.

With their way of openness, there is plain honesty as you also provide no sugarcoating towards your partner. There’s no judgment with you towards them at all. You may even have a soft spot for this person. You bring out their courage and straightforwardness. They know everything you say makes sense and has meaning; it brings value to theirs as you are critical in your views. You are the type of person they can rely on especially on these things. You like pretty things and you know that you deserve the best, and only the best. So they better believe you! That they're great, that they are the most amazing-est person in the world! 

You pamper yourself and know self-care the most. It may be also because you have been often treated poorly in the past, or lack that good treatment. As to why you’re bringing that into your life more. It may also appear to the point that it can be seen as “vain” to others. Though you have pure intentions, you don’t leave out focus on the people you value. You are giving that same energy to your partner and you put them your priority. That makes them depend on you in ways as well, as you make them realize a different perspective through your personal input. Or this way, they relate to you so much that, “oh, it's not just me. I was making sense, I'm not being sensitive!”

⟡

cards: The Star Rx, Justice Rx, 5 of Swords, The World

༘⊹

key words: for some reason the feature of cat-eye, something glossy came in mind, puffy dresses, soft peachy filter (the type that has an airy blush-y effect), silk/velvet fabric, scones/pastries, safety pin, sunlit room, fire energy, venusian energy; sagittarius, capricorn, at most… alluring

༘⋆‧˚ pile 3 ⊹ ⋅* ⟡

“Let’s take a breather.” Whenever unreasonable matters occur, you are the first one that comes to mind and who they run to to talk about these things. These can also come as an unwanted situation. As for some things, it can be a hassle and quite petty for them to talk about. It can also result in a lost opportunity. But it seems natural to just be their raw and true self around you. Y'kno?– Of course, you’ll know, as they are the type who show how much they value you, even bringing on efforts in the littlest ways. It is also their way to make up on things, or simply just to show their love for you. They exude a ball of sunshine vibes.

Going back, as to why it can be quite… concerning seeing them solemn and how noticeable their eyes sink with exhaustion. Though they just stay quiet and still put their considerate demeanor towards you. During these moments you may feel them lean towards you a bit, their eyes soft as they look up at you. “Hmmm?” You can feel their weight by your shoulder– they are the type to be clingy, this isn’t anything new about how they’re acting. But there is just something when they’re asking for comfort from you. Like your presence is enough to ease them, but there’s just something else. This can be their way to initiate talking about something that makes them sulk, which can be traced on their face. And when you do talk it out. Your insight may not be what they wanted, but what they didn’t know they needed to hear.

You let them in your perspective or share other possibilities. Your words can introduce them to new emotions. Your stance on the situation will make them open their eyes in ways that they do not accept it at hand– not something they first thought of or view that way. But it makes total sense. You exude kindness with balance on discernment. With you, emotions seem to flow out smoothly like water, as to why maybe they feel oh so comfortable with you. You're the type of person that can make them reevaluate things and put their place into a new perspective. 

⟡

cards: The Justice Rx, Ace of Pentacles Rx, Ace of Cups, 2 of Pentacles

༘⊹

key words: dewy, meadow, fresh air, ducks, cardigan, citrus, a stroll in the park, nature, caramel, bland jokes, laughter, water, arm on waist, flowers; preferably carnations. anything soft yellow, golden retriever, tall, taurus/airy energy

༘⋆‧˚ pile 4 ⊹ ⋅* ⟡

“I want you close to me.” As if your proximity isn’t hairs thin already, this is quite of the more… wilder type of pile. Also unexpected at most as I originally planned 3, but universe and spirit knocked me down and whispered loudly, if I may add: “don’t forget the raw energy!” This is more of a mature pile but I am keeping it appropriate, no worries!

Starting strong here as they let loose with you, they may not be their most composed self as they are extra vulnerable when a situation calls for it. Sensual was the word. And showing it in rough ways that they know can be direct to show their passion. Your person is quite well-put together and often sharp and composed. But tiredness and frustration can also do lots for a person. They are tired out or when they are erratic in thoughts, it’s the time that they need comfort the most. And your presence can calm them down (for the most part). They are the type to be self-aware though, so I can see that they are not at all violent. Aggressive? Indubitably, but in proper ways (If you know what I mean wink). This can also mean in terms of their words, they are quite sharp and precise in what they know. This is also what they are feeling, what they want and need. But mostly this pile involves the body. I’ll leave you to it!

This isn't anything new really, this is a familiar routine. You can be both night owls. Maybe coffee is a staple in your household (if you’re living in together). If not, it’s usually what happens when you're both exhausted and yet need to stay up. So you and your partner accompany each other and oftentimes these lead to deep or late-night talks.

The way of expression on asking for comfort (and neediness, ooft) can be, for the lack of a better word, nasty, where it will be filled with desires; anything stimulating— just to get pleasure out of it. This could be in topics, or with your same interest. Staying out to watch something, or to be there while the other person finishes what they need to work on for the hell of it. 

After the deed is done (as supposed on the overall energy of this pile)... Even if it doesn’t fulfill or satiate the feeling (mostly to their side)... Even if it doesn't contribute to “doneness” on the supposed matter at hand on why your person asked for comfort in the first place… in some ways, it is still relief from stress or anything that's been weighing them down. Again with self-awareness, mostly they’re the let bygones be bygones. But you make them soft in a way that venting out isn’t that bad after all. In other ways, being with you is a relief enough for them.

⟡

cards: King of Swords Rx, The Fool Rx, The Devil, 9 of Cups Rx

༘⊹

key words: breathy voice, detail-oriented, chaste kiss, screen light, sighs, yawns, light finger tapping, cuddles, whispers, computer screen, keyboard typing, cold sheets, polished fingernails, books, dark/dim, coffee, cloudless sky, midnight, possible rain, unfinished snacks, lo-fi music, head pats, scorpio, virgo, water energy

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