#i feel like he'd just lock himself in his room until someone managed to drag him out . and this is how surly fwhip enjoyers can still win

[funkily]

i feel like Manic is a word often used to describe e1 fwhip (for good reason) but i feel like we need to explore this more . his egos already pretty big, you know as soon as he gets a manic episode he feels like a god . someone notices hes chattier and, like . smiling and theyre like alright . should probably keep an eye on that

[curiostars]

can i interest you in mob psycho roleswap au. (close-ups and notes under the cut)

Reigen is not a conman in this au, but a real deal esper. Not that he knew for most of his life. He actually did start Spirits & Such under the impression he'd be running a scam business

A few months into the endeavour, he's visited by Touichirou, who proves to Reigen that a) real psychics exist, and b) Reigen is one. Reigen has actually been subconciously using his own powers without realizing- plain table salt actually can work in an exorcism, if one uses it to channel their own psychic power!

Reigen's abilities speficially have to use objects as a conduit, and while he doesn't have an overly large amount of power to draw from, the way he uses it is extremely energy-efficient. It's how he could use them without even noticing, it took so little effort he couldn't feel that he was doing something

Reigen joined Claw because he saw it as his way to finally become someone, but slowly he realizes that the organization is terrible. He can't see a way out and has nothing left if he leaves, having sold the office and packed up his life to join, so instead he doubles down and tries to convince himself he's okay with it all

Serizawa doesn't have psychic powers, so he also didn't spend most of his life locked in his room. Just a regular, sorta-awkward, very nice guy

He got dragged into the whole fake-psychic bit because he helped his neighbour out with a problem that they thought was a ghost but turned out to just be a minor electrical issue. His neighbour is convinced he exorcised a ghost and doesn't hear out Serizawa trying to explain that it wasn't

That neighbour recommends his help to a friend of theirs who also thinks they have a ghost problem. It's not really a ghost again, but she was so scared of ghosts and so happy to be safe that Serizawa didn't have the heart to tell her that he didn't exorcize any. Just a harmless white lie, right?

This spitballs by word of mouth and becomes a whole side gig for him. He gathers a reputation without even trying to. He is just too damn nice to turn people down when they ask for his help and has given up trying to convince people that he's not psychic, when what they want is help from a psychic

One day he helps someone who happens to be a real estate agent and extremely enthusiastic about helping him make a whole business. He is offered an office at an extremely discounted rental rate in one of the buildings they manage, and encouraged to take his business pro so that people can find him for help easier. It's a great idea! Serizawa doesn't agree so much as fails to refuse. Looks like he has an office now!

The office was formerly Reigen's, not that Serizawa knows it. It still has the sign up for Spirits & Such, so Serizawa keeps that name because he has no idea what he's doing but that sounds professional and legitimate, right?

As a small child, Teru was very difficult, and more importantly he was an esper. His parents mistook him floating objects during tantrums for possession, and brought him to an exorcist recommended by a friend of a friend

Serizawa, who can't exorcise a kid who isn't possessed in the first place (and couldn't anyways, not psychic as he is), ended up striking a deal with Teru to teach him control his powers. To the parents, he fakes dispelling a demon and claims it left Teru with "residual" power that Serizawa can help him learn to manage. Serizawa takes a fake-it-until-you make it appraoch with Teru's "apprenticeship", but it works

Teru, about a year into this arrangement, realizes Serizawa isn't even a little bit psychic. Teru is good and attached to him now anyways, and throws himself into helping Serizawa maintain the charade. Quite often this ends up causing more problems than it solves

Teru has a solid sense of morality thanks to Serizawa's mentorship, but he's extremely stuck up about it. Very holier-than-thou attitude. Would he truly be Teru without that self-centeredness?

Mob is the Shadow Leader of the Salt Middle School delinquents

Without Reigen's guidance (or Ritsu's presence as a role model, see below), he has much less of a moral compass, and is instead motivated by the small circle of friends he does have

He's not any less compassionate than canon, but only to a select circle of individuals. He doesn't care about anyone else, so long as it doesn't affect him and his friends

His characterization is closer to what he's like in Mogamiland, right before he remembers the real world. If the people around him made him who he was, who would he have become without most of those people?

The Telepathy Club are among the delinquents of Salt MS, having failed to keep their club room and turning to more drastic measures to find time to goof off and do what they want, and they're Mob's closest friends, hiding in his social shadow because no one wants to mess with him

If you threaten their freedom? So help you, Mob will not have mercy

Ritsu was kidnapped by Claw at about 8 years old, and forcibly awakened by them. He turned out to be an incredibly strong esper, powerful enough to catch the attention of Touichirou directly

He's scared out of running away by the threat of Claw finding his family, especially he's worried about them realizing Shigeo is also an esper

Like canon Shou, he's plotting to go against Claw, and biding his time for the right moment to start open rebellion

He's not quite Touichirou's son, but he's his "heir" so to speak. The secondmost authority in Claw

Shou didn't awaken any psychic powers as a little kid, and was more or less replaced as soon as Ritsu showed up

He was sent to live with his mother, and grew up more or less normally

Being abandoned by his father, understandably, gave him some harsh self-esteem issues

He's an over-achiever, a straight-A student and the student council vice president. He's compensating for his greatest failure: his lack of psychic power, which he wants more than anything

A part of him still hopes that one day his dad will want him back if he does ever get powers

[hazy-smiles]

The Tide May Ebb and Flow (if you let it)

(A platonic Dan Feng x GN!reader fic)

Note: Hi all. I've been away for a while. I wrote this a while ago in my drafts. If you guys want the dumpling scene afterwards, please let me know. Thank you for your patience, and as always, be kind. I actually recently got some mental health diagnoses, so I thought of this fic and decided to post it. I hope it calms someone.

TW: Depression. Passively suicidal thoughts.

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

You forget how long you’ve been laying here. 

It's been…maybe three days now. Four. Into your apparent attempt to rot into your bedsheets. They don't smell bad, exactly. It's just that the scent of you and your unwashed body, your unbrushed teeth, and the salty brine of your tears have combined to create a sort of dreary staleness that now settles over your bedroom.

It's hard. Some days are harder than most. But most days, you surprise yourself with how easy it is to speak to your friends and find yourself smiling, laughing, chattering as if you hadn't been concerned earlier in the day with whether or not you would make it a few extra years.

Depression is like that, it seems. Fickle. Unapparent. It feels worse to tell people you have it when you shine and glimmer with smiles and dry comments before their faces, only to admit the truth that waits at home, neatly tucked into bed.

You’d never really used the term so officially, with Dan Feng. You’d said something more like, “I had no energy. Just laid in bed and felt all sad.” Even laughed, to make it less awkward. His eyes had softened in the way that they do for his friends, and he'd sipped his tea and told you that you always had a friend who wanted you to speak to him. And then he'd held your gaze until you understood, and offered you more tea. And then said something bitterly about the Preceptors that had brought out a laugh out of you, cupped like precious water in your hands. 

In a haze, you’d stuck some more incense into a censer on the elegantly carved mahogany shelf, in the corner of the room. A gift from the High Elder himself, a voice in your head supplies sarcastically. Make sure to treat it well.

The thought of your friend, however, who is more capable and burdened than most- and yet still flourishing and always striding forth like the surge of tidal force he is, merely makes you cry harder.

The sheets are all rumpled. The soft embroidery of your blankets in crumpled disarray. Your pajamas feel nearly like second skin.

Suddenly, a sound from your front door downstairs startles you. A loud fumbling, with the lock. The complex mechanisms and seals holding it tight rattling as someone makes their way inside. 

You don't quite have the energy to move. But suddenly, the fear quickens into adrenaline that miraculously contradicts your inner dialogue of ‘I can't do this- I don't have the energy for this, I don't have the energy to live-’

Another rattle. The door becomes unlocked.

Your heart is beating in your chest, but the slow dragging of your limbs across the bedsheets to draw yourself up means that you only manage to place your bare feet on the hardwood floor after about a minute. Part of you doesn't care, if it's a burglar. Maybe they will see your pitiful state and disappear out the door. Perhaps they will kill you. You don't particularly care, but the beating in your chest betrays you.

A few steps to your bedroom door, and you pull the door in towards you. A bit of light streams into the hallway from a window in the study you’d forgotten to close. It's midday, it seems. The slightly fresher air is pleasant, you’ll admit.

Tentatively, you step onto the stairs, only to startle slightly at the figure that greets you at the base. 

Dan Feng has a way of always looking quite regal. His shoulders are drawn back properly, his hands folded behind his back. But his blue-grey gaze, not as icy as the stories like to say, flick over you in a display of concern in a fashion not less characteristic, but far less stoic. 

It almost seems like nervousness, before you chide yourself for the thought. 

It's quiet, for a moment. You feel shame rush over you. Your messy, disheveled hair. Your teary eyes. You haven't washed in a while. Your friend, the exalted High Elder of all people, looks as perfect and unrumpled as ever. His boots are off. You notice and it nearly makes your lips twitch, not into a smile but perhaps a near impression, broken expression. He's wearing black socks, and the High Elder of the Xianzhou Luofu is worried he will dirty your floors and it is proper- so of course, he took off his boots. For you. For the sake of your neatly polished floors, stained where you dropped a tea a week ago and broke down crying from the weight of the day.

Somehow, it still feels sweet. Proper, of course. But sweet. 

Dan Feng could stride into a meeting hall this second, you think, and command the room just as skillfully as always. 

You, on the other hand. You’d just walk away emptily, after hearing their jeers.

You feel tears begin to pearl at your eyes, and you take a step back, hiding behind the banister of the staircase. Dan Feng doesn't move, but you see how he inhales sharply.

You wipe the tears away hurriedly, but it doesn't stop the flow of them. You wonder if Dan Feng could do it in an instant. Use his Cloudhymn to dry your tear ducts. Stop you from ever sobbing so messily ever again.

He lets you cry, for a few moments, before you tuck your head into your hands and he begins treading up the stairs towards you. 

You nearly flinch back again, and he slows. He makes his steps a little more audible than they need to be, given that you can't see him, before slowly coming to a stop about a meter away from you.

As you remove your hands to wipe at your cheeks, he steps forward. He allows his hands to drop to his sides.

You continue sniffling.

“...I apologise for barging in,” he says, his voice soft in the stillness of your house. Having someone speak to you, even like this, somehow does make the air feel a bit less lifeless. 

“I texted you beforehand. And I rung the doorbell,” Dan Feng says, his eyes trained on yours as you dare to peek up at him. Kind as ever. “But…it appears you didn't take notice. So I took to shaking your lock a lot with your spare key, to give you fair warning. Apologies for any…anxiety it may have caused you.”

You nearly laugh. So that's what it was. Dan Feng earnestly making a ruckus so you wouldn't be caught too off guard.

“...Forgiven,” you mutter wetly, your hands dropping to wrap around your midsection as you look downwards, to the side. You don't have the strength to smile. “It's fine. I appreciate it."

Dan Feng nods, humming quietly. It's quiet again.

“...Have you eaten?” he asks, his voice light and still soft. Such a classic Xianzhou way to open the conversation. Have you eaten? Are you alright? How have you been? Are you taking care of yourself?

You shake your head jerkily, and he hums again. His eyes take in your state of disarray, and he frowns now, but only slightly, out of concern.

“Might you want to take a bath?” he asks, softly. “Is it alright if I help with the water?” 

You huff quietly. He's trying to make it seem like he's not trying to coddle you, but you understand. Dan Feng has always been more concerned for his friends than even he will admit sometimes. You feel bad, letting him worry like this, and tear up again.

Even as the tears fly down your cheeks, Dan Feng seemingly remains calm, though you can see his frown deepen slightly.

“A bath. I'll bring some clothes to you. Is it alright if I touch the things in your bedroom?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, as if the circumstances were simple, and not a little more tragic. When you glance at him, he gives you a small smile.

“I'll make wonton for us while you bath, hm? Get out of the bath before they get cold, if you please.”

You nearly laugh again. He sounds a bit like a nanny. The small twitching of your lips seems to delight him.

“...Alright, Dan Feng,” you murmurs, hoarsely. “You can…go through my room, if you want. I can clean it myself though, really.”

“Nonsense. I've imposed myself onto your home. Therefore, it's only right that I assist in some menial tasks.”

“Dan Feng. You know that's not how being a guest works, you never let me help when I come over to your estate-”

“I have attendants,” he says, tilting his head up and closing his eyes in a mocking sort of haughtiness. The slight smile on his lips, knowing and yet kind, now matches yours. He blinks open his eyes to gaze at you. 

“And you do not, correct? Please. Indulge me.”

You sigh, hanging your head. You wipe some more tears, blinking as he offers you a clean tissue from inside the folds of his clean-pressed robes.

You glance up at him, after you dry your eyes. 

“...Alright, Dan Feng. I'll indulge you. Thank you for…helping me,” you murmur, the sentiment true even if the sentence is a bit awkward.

He smiles and steps towards your bedroom, glancing back until you follow after him. Your steps are a little more steady, as you follow him. A little less heavy.

Before the reality of your bedroom hits you again in full force. You feel a little ashamed, watching Dan Feng in his courtly attire sweep around your room.

“Windows? Do you mind?” he asks, lifting a hand to gesture at them gracefully, his expression understanding. He hasn't said one dry comment, one witty sarcastic line, since he got here. It's a little different from your usual banter, but you like it. You’ve always shown up for each other, like this. All pretenses dropped. Two friends who trust each other. Even when it's hard. 

“I don't,” you murmur, and he smiles and lifts a hand, the window shutters opening and letting in a crisp breeze, the curtains neatly drawing back before he steps closer to them, tying the silk ties primly to keep them aside.

“I'll draw a bath. Just choose some clothes out, hm?” His black hair swishes as he strides into the bathroom, sparing you a kind glance before the sound of rushing water meets your ears.

You sigh. He's being kind to you. But part of you wishes he'd never see you like this. And you wish he…he must have interrupted his schedule somehow, to show up for you like this. The thought makes you grimace. You frown before stepping drearily to your dresser, taking out some clean underwear, some clean clothing, all while feeling a little ashamed.

The door to the bathroom opens, allowing the sound of flowing water to overtake you. You’re sure he's somehow dug up some light bath salts from the depths of your cupboards. Gifts as well, likely. Never used. Why bother indulging when a shower is quicker? Less of a hassle? Most days, you wouldn't have the energy to prepare such a bath for yourself.

The wooden door to your bathroom slides open and Dan Feng steps out, jacket slung over his arm and the sleeves of his dark grey robes pulled up to his elbows. He summons a small smile for you, and in a similar fashion to his healing magic, it soothes you. 

“I'll go hang this up. Then I'll get to it, hm? Do you mind if I use your ingredients? I'm sorry for the trouble,” he says softly, his steps even and slow as he paces closer to you. 

“It's fine,” you answer, “you're…already cooking for me, Dan Feng. Apologising for the trouble should be my duty.” You offer him a smile, but it's more bitter than you intend and you regret it instantly for fear of offending him, but he makes no comment. 

Instead, his eyes soften, his calm stance and steady gaze holding the space as if stilling it for you. You notice you’ve felt just a little less anxious, since you first noticed him at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Alright. Take your bath, please. I'll get to cooking. Surely you’ll help me by finishing the food while it's still hot,” he says, his voice kind and soft and more than you think you deserve, before he slides out and shuts your bedroom door behind you. 

You stand there, for a moment, before stepping towards the first wash you've had in days. 

The water is perfect. Warm and soapy, with the delicate scent of chrysanthemum and honey meeting your nose as you sink in. A bath kit a well-meaning friend had slipped you years ago. You just sit there, for a bit. The midday sun illuminates the bathroom through a small window, the shutters half-drawn, and through which you can see the light blue, cloudless sky. 

You're tired. Even now, a smile is hard to force and worse to maintain. And you begin to scrub at your skin deftly, not quite thinking nor processing until you find yourself sitting in cooling water with the sound of Dan Feng’s cooking downstairs echoing in your ears.

Right. Dan Feng is cooking. The thought makes you frown a little. It would be rude to keep him waiting, you think, and so you drag yourself out and drain the tub robotically as you sling a towel around yourself and dry your hair messily.

Soon enough, you're dressed in what is your first change in…a while, with your hair still a little damp. 

You struggle to bring yourself to leave, as you stand just before your bedroom door. You’d have to pretend to be normal. Not be such a mess. What allows you to be, now that Dan Feng has taken such measures to check on you, to feed you? You frown again, your gaze stuck on the floor in front of the small gap beneath your bedroom door.

Your fingers toy with your clothes anxiously, the grimace on your face twisting your features as your mind begins to panic, only for you to startle when a soft knock sound at the door. You can't quite bring yourself to move. 

Dan Feng, however, must see your shadow beneath the door, and slides the door open, forcing you to step back a little. 

You don't look at him, for a moment, your fingers tangled in your clothes and your eyes guilt-ridden and shameful. But you don't have to say anything. In a few seconds and after a suspenseful moment, Dan Feng exhales quietly and steps forward, opening his arms and gently wrapping his fingers round your left bicep to pull you into a hug.

It feels like you crash into him, your posture still stiff as he wraps his arms around you and tucks your head into his shoulder. Before you know it, you're sniffling again and Dan Feng is rubbing your back with his palm, his breath steady as his chest presses against yours.

“...It's alright,” he says, quietly. His voice is soft, in your ear. You resist the urge to shrink into yourself when you realise he must have turned to speak it to you. “And even if it isn't. It will be, someday. Soon.”

You dare, in that moment, to jerkily wrap your arms around his torso, and when he squeezes in response, you bundle up the fabric of his robes in your hands and sob. 

He doesn't hush you, at that. He merely moves a hand to rub a little higher up, at your right shoulder blade as you sniffle and make soft choked noises that you really wish you could draw out of your throat and throw someplace far far away. 

“It's okay,” he murmurs, squeezing you tighter, grabbing your unravelling thoughts and bringing you back to the stillness of your bedroom. “Not because it doesn't hurt. But because you can get through it. You can.”

You sniffle again, and he takes a deep breath, perhaps exaggerating his breathing a little in an effort to beckon you to follow. 

“That's it,” he murmurs, brushing some of your hair back from your temple. You feel a touch of his fingertips, his usual gloves off, and sniffle a little bit more. It almost feels like when you were a child. Some distant, fuzzy memory rearing it's head and making you crumple further.

“Deep breaths. You’ll be alright. None of that hopelessness here, alright? I love you.” Your friend, ridiculously caring from the start, and stubbornly so, whispers softly. 

“Your friends will love you, even if you think we shouldn't. I'll make you dumplings everyday if it makes you feel better, and you can't stop me because I want to.” His tone, firm and yet slightly playful at the end, makes you choke out a sound that should be a laugh but sounds more like a sob. His arms tighten all the same, and he sighs softly through his nose.

His hand rubs gently, up and down your back, as your mind reels in both the dregs of your despair and embarrassment as well as mild shock. Your friends love you. I want to be here. It sounds fake. But Dan Feng, at least, is real. And you can smell the dumplings downstairs. Maybe it isn't so bad.

End note: I've come to accept my own mental illness over the last few. Some days are still bad for me and some days are good. I hope you all give yourself the grace and find kind things everyday. I'm not even in the hsr fandom anymore, but I hope this helps someone.

[lieutenanthowell]

ACT I, chapter i, STORY BEAT - Introductions

He wasn't late. Just arriving no earlier, at all, than was remotely acceptable. Because he didn't want to fucking be there. It was nothing more malicious than that. Guin could read a goddamn site map. Could keep himself fed, watered, laundered, caffeinated. When a need arose, he'd hunt down whatever was on the other end of it. Point was, given back the who-knows-how-long this whole affair turned out to be, he'd figure out some better way to spend the time. Wouldn't be hard.

Still, low as his expectations were, Chi-00 managed worse. Ankle-shattering, really. He'd swayed to a stop just inside the door, his scan of the small, settling crowd fixing once, twice. Christ. So. That's how it was. That's just how it was gonna be.

Well. Spared him figuring out a few texts, anyway. Didn't it? No. Not really. He'd never been one for silver linings. That shit was always thin as tinfoil, when you really looked at it.

So he sat. At the back. Nearest the door. Easy to see everything he might need to, from there. Easy to leave, first, after however these my-dumbass-callsign-is-s were done with. Not that it mattered too much, in his case; what the hell could a codename really do for him? Hardly any of his life at all was on record. At least, outside the Foundation itself. And the closest thing he had to connections, people to keep compartmentalized away from all this - if he'd been the kind of moron who figured he could pull that off, which he never was - were here. Or dead. Or gone.

The get-to-know-yous dragged on for a little longer, out there; Guin, he'd set his combat boots flat on the floor and closed his eyes. Against the simmering fluorescent lights, all these eyes he did and didn't know. Didn't do dick for the noise, of course, echoing off the glassy walls of this too-small room. Couldn't close them out, either. Both of them, the last two people he - Christ. Both of them. Vera, with that loved-thin green jacket slung over the chair next to her. Like she was waiting for someone. That someone they'd been waiting for, ever since that night in the snow. And Nadia, wound tighter than any steel trap. Could see that grip she had on herself working all the way up her arms, caught between her teeth, the lock of her jaw.

He'd seen them. They'd seen him. And they'd all have a goddamn year locked into this, to - do their jobs. Together. Again. Shit.

He could do that. Sure. He could do this, too. Wasn't even any microphone in hand, onstage crap. Guin stayed put as the first impressions kicked off, tracking the room's interest from person to person. His own ticked to each face in turn, then away, as he listened to everybody storm or stumble through their introductions. Then - then all that attention settled on his shoulders. He didn't stand. Just spread his hands. Present. Accounted for. "I'm, ah - Dying Breed. Apparently." Which was funny, seeing as... he had something like a laugh about it, anyway. Only vaguely like a laugh. "All you need to know is: I'll do whatever I can to get you out of any trouble you're in. That'll be the case even if I don't like you much. And if all you are is pieces, then - same goes. I'll get something of you home, if I can." He side-slid his jaw, feeling the tug of that still-newish scar, tight. His stare had found the analog clock tick-ticking on the wall; it glared back, like there was something else he was supposed to say, or do, but... God, there was always something. Wasn't there? That's what all that debriefing always came down to, right? That there was always something you should've done different. Would've, could've.

His cut-up cheek twitched - snarl-like, a glimpse of teeth to it - as he lipped a cigarette out of the pack he'd fished from his tac pants. "But chances are you won't hear shit from me until we're in the field in any kind of way. Or unless this place goes to hell." Guin scuffed the low knuckle of his thumb across and around the socket of his left eye, squinting as he considered his matchbook. "So - until then. Uh..." Another toss of his hands, a half-shake of his head. "Watch out." On that dead-flat note, he rocked out of his chair. "Taking a fifteen, boss," he rasped, flicking a loose salute in the general direction of their new commander, presumably. Then he did precisely that.

[allthelittlecreepycrawlies]

For Day 6: how about a role swap au where NHS is a Jin bastard and JGY is a Nie? I feel like that could encompass many of the prompts.

I hope you feel better soon! Please take it easy, we'll still be here later. ❤️

Blanking out the mocking laughter as best he could, A-Sang quietly knelt down and pulled the rag from his belt to clean the food off the floor and collect the scattered golden dishes, inwardly hoping none of them were dented.

He still had bruises from the last time.

"Hey, brat, you forgot a cup," one of the disciples said, and experience made him immediately close his eyes to keep from getting wine in them when the cup was slapped upside down onto his head, earning more raucous laughter.

He took a shallow breath and let it back out; if he started coughing now, things would get worse before they got better.

"Now, now," a hatedly familiar voice said in all fake kindness as an equally hated large hand clapped down on the back of his neck with enough force that he almost started coughing anyway. "It's not the little cousin's fault he's so clumsy. If his mother had been from better stock-"

He didn't hear the rest of it over the wheeze in his chest and the humming that was building up in his ears.

It didn't matter whether he heard it or not anyway; the insults were always the same.

When he came back to himself, they had, to his relief, gotten bored of him and moved on to more entertaining things. Picking up the tray of dishes and sticking the filthy rag back in his belt to be exchanged at the kitchen, he made his escape.

Where he was reasonably sure most sects would probably pretend to treat their servants better when they had guests to impress, the inner disciples of his sect always made a point to spend the first day of any multi-day meeting reminding him just how low in the pecking order he was, lest he get any wild ideas like, say, talking to any of the guests.

As if he'd ever dare.

Gaze locked on the ground in front of him so that his hair hid his eyes from outside view, he turned a corner towards the kitchen, only to unexpectedly smack into someone.

Stumbling slightly, he tried to rebalance the tray before the couple of dishes that weren't-quite-empty could topple off, only to freeze in horror when they spilled on the other person's boots and the hems of their robes.

---

Nie Xunyao really hated visiting Koi Tower, and had since the first time he'd been brought along with his father and Da-ge. Everything about the place made his back teeth itch with the urge to bite the inside of his cheek, a bad habit he would have almost managed to give up just in time for another visit.

The only remotely tolerable thing about being stuck in this den of pompous assholes was Jin Zixuan, who at least tried to be sociable with him, and whose inability to do so managed to be endearing instead of annoying.

But Jin Zixuan had been dragged off by his mother for only the heavens knew what -probably so she'd have someone to complain about his father to again, given past experience- which had left him to make his way back to his guest room to bury himself in one of the books he'd brought along to stave off boredom until his brother called for him to come to the next meeting.

He'd been so lost in his annoyance that he hadn't heard someone coming from the hall crossways to the one he was traveling until they collided at the corner, a bowl and several other overly-opulent dishes tumbling from the servant's tray to crash loudly to the floor, splattering his clothes in the process.

The servant went statue-still, then dropped to his knees with a hiss of alarm and pressed his face to the floor.

"T-this one is sorry, gongzi! Please allow-"

Recovering his wits, Nie Xunyao crouched to pat the poor thing on the back before he could truly work himself into a panic.

"It's fine, it's fine, no harm done," he said soothingly, then involuntarily wrinkled his nose when his hand accidentally brushed the servant's messy hair and found it sticky and wet. Drawing his hand back, he surreptitiously waved it close to his face and caught the unmistakeable scent of plum wine.

Ah. Small wonder he was such a nervous wreck, if he'd already encountered such a punishment so recently.

Another reason he hated this place. True, servants were sometimes punished at home, but never for something so petty, and an honest mistake at that.

"Hey, come on now," he coaxed, drawing the servant out of his kowtow and up onto his knees proper. "It was an accident, nothing more. Nobody even has to know."

The servant, still visibly shaken, raised his head a little bit more.

Enough that Nie Xunyao could see the gold of his eyes through gaps in the raggedy curtain of hair.

He managed not to let his emotions show on his face, but inwardly, he was cursing.

One of the byblows.

Suddenly, everything about the servant's... everything was painfully clear.

Jin Guangshan's less than savory dalliances outside of his marriage, especially with servants or other lower class girls who couldn't exactly tell him no, was an open secret among the sect families. His brother -and his father, when he'd still been around- had spoken of the issue with disgust more than once, and while he'd kept his opinions to himself, he agreed.

There'd been rumors that some of the girls who'd gotten pregnant and hadn't managed to terminate in time had been forced to let the babies be taken and raised as future servants, so that their 'gracious' father could keep tabs on them.

He'd never asked Jin Zixuan about it, knowing he had enough to deal with from his father already.

But here, now-

The servant started to fidget, looking like he was about to grab the dishes and flee.

"Hold still for me for just a second?" Nie Xunyao asked.

The other boy -now that he was really looking, they didn't seem all that different in age or size, other than the fact that the servant was clearly underfed- flinched, but did as told.

Taking a handkerchief out of his sleeve, Nie Xunyao carefully tried to clean away some of the sticky wine, sweeping the servant's hair out of his face in the process.

His lip had a visible split, and there were deep shadows under his eyes, and his cheeks were a little gaunt, but he was still surprisingly pretty.

He flinched again when the cloth went near his left eye, and Nie Xunyao could see some faint bruising along with the exhaustion bags.

He pressed his lips thin, then smiled disarmingly. "Why don't you come with me to get cleaned up, hm?"

"Th- this one would not dare to-"

"What's your name?"

The servant blinked at him in wide-eyed surprise as if he'd grown two heads instead of having asked for something so small... or perhaps not so small to him. How many people actually called him by name here, to get that reaction.

"I- this one is Sang," he mumbled so quietly Nie Xunyao almost couldn't hear him.

"Just 'Sang'? Nothing else?"

A nod.

"...Okay, then, Sang-er. I'll help you get these dishes to the kitchen, then we can both wash up," Nie Xunyao said brightly, pulling back to pick up some of the dropped dishes.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Sang quietly mouth 'Sang-er' to himself, a blush blooming across his nose and cheeks.

He really was cuter than this place deserved, Nie Xunyao thought.

Maybe he'd bring it up with Da-ge after the afternoon's meetings.

[astrallithid]

🎀!

a dream that leaves him happy ⎛ does a mind flayer dream? ⎠ ❲ also asked by @darkenforcer & @minteyed-messiah ❳

As foreign as it had been, Anchorome was beautiful. The land boasted unfamiliar flaura and fauna, and many interesting people. Most notably, the elf Dradeel, a Selûnite wizard. A quirky fellow, Balduran found himself rather smitten. Maybe it was the unfamiliar land, or maybe it was simply the fact that Balduran tended to love easily- ⎛ or lust easily. The lines there were often blurred, but the results were usually the same ⎠ When he dreamed of Anchorome, it meant he was dreaming of Dradeel.

"I'd like to think that anyone can learn to harness the weave in some capacity," comes the elf's voice. Balduran had been staring at a spellbook for hours, it seemed, and he'd only managed to break a few vases and start a small fire- which was quickly extinguished ⎛ but not without burning his hands- ⎠ . He'd watched Dradeel perform magic time and time again, and it was more than beautiful. Each time he sat there and watched, it felt intimate- and true to his nature, he wanted to share in it.

He wanted to drown in it.

If he'd been anyone else, he would've given up at this point. Balduran had grown up the son of a fisherman and a priestess of Sune- his knowledge of magic was limited to his mother's methods of getting dirt and twigs out of his hair from when he went places that he had no reason to be. Or so she told him. Dradeel had trained as a wizard for at least twice as long as Balduran had been alive ⎛ and that was quite easy to forget when he looked at the man's lovely face- elves were blessed with longevity and devastating beauty- and he often thought of how he likely had his mother's half-elven blood to thank for his own looks. She always said he looked just like his father- a handsome human sailor. ⎠, and Dradeel often reminded him of that as well.

"You can clearly cast some spells," it's spoken with a light laugh, "But, you need to be a little more careful. Look at what you've done to your hands!"

❝ They'll heal, ❞

"I can speed that process up. You'll thank me later. Or maybe you'll thank me now."

It went on like that, their little courtship, and it took until a rather odd night for Balduran to have his first truly notable experience with the Weave- and really, it was his first and only. Dradeel had been talking about curses and wolves and handing out warding charms and pendants to anyone who would listen- which of Balduran's crew was not many. He'd shut himself in his room, and when Balduran managed to open the door, he found the elf shaking like a leaf. He asked for another private lesson in magic to try to get his mind off of whatever it was- Soon, they'd surrounded by the Weave; Balduran brushed a lock of hair away from Dradeel's eyes. ❝ We will reach shore soon enough, there's no need to worry. No more of these concerns about wolves. Kiss me, I won't let anything hurt you. ❞

The dream always plays out a little differently. In his dreams, he keeps his promise. He falls onto the bed and drags the wizard with him- the Weave surrounds them when they're tangled in the sheets, wrapped around each other. It was nice, back then. It was the first time he was able to read another person's mind. It prepared him for what he would become. He'd not been perfect as a partner, but whenever he dreamed of a life long since gone, it was nice to be reminded that he had been able to soothe someone else's pain, just for a little bit.

⎛ He wakes a little confused, he must've cried in his sleep, but he feels warm regardless. It's actually rather refreshing. ⎠

He feels a little more human each time.

[writingducks]

I Like Your Body Because It's Yours

ao3 link

Roach is incredibly nervous when he finds himself in Soap's room.

Trans Roach, Coming Out, Multiple Orgasms

Roach stumbled as he was pressed backwards. He tripped, blushing furiously and finding himself caught between the wall and a second wall, the latter of the two being one of muscle. He could feel Soap filling out in his pants. Heat flooded his body, along with anxiety as he hoped he didn’t notice the emptiness in his own. 

They’d been in the gym when Soap suggested sparring. Sparring which quickly turned less-than-tactical, and before he’d realized it, he was on top of Soap and crashing their lips together. Which culminated in Soap dragging him to his room and locking the door behind him. He'd all but slammed Roach into the wall the second he did. Roach groaned softly as Soap captured his mouth again. 

But the desire in his chest was being clouded over by his fears. Fears that were quickly rising as Soap's hands left his hips to tug at the waistband of his trainers. They began to dig under and Roach panicked. He tore his lips from Soap's, turning his face away. 

Soap pulled back, confusion written over his face when Roach glanced back at him. "Roach? Everything okay?" 

"Yeah, just-" Roach's heart thundered in his chest. Just what? Not everything was okay.

"Do you want to stop?"

"No! No. I-" He didn't want to stop. He wanted Soap so bad it hurt. But… What if Soap didn't want him? What if, when he found out, it changed the way he saw him? "I want to," Roach managed to force out. "I just… don't know if you do."

"Of course I do. Why would you think I wouldn't?" Soap brushed his thumb over Roach’s cheek. 

"I'm… I'm not exactly the kind of man you think I am."

Soap blinked. "Gary," he said softly, "I know what kind of man you are. You’re brave and loyal and-”

“That’s not what I meant,” Roach interrupted. “I’m not… like you.” He wanted to run. He wanted to hide away until Soap forgot any of this happened. He tried to look away, but Soap just guided his face back to meet his eye. 

“Not like me? What do you mean?” Roach could see the concern in his eyes. It was almost overwhelming. God, why was he so scared? He knew Soap. Soap was cool! He wouldn’t-

But there was always that fear in the back of his mind. That fear that he would misjugde someone. Because if he was wrong, if he came out to the wrong person…

But Soap wasn’t the wrong person! He couldn’t be! Roach swallowed his anxieties. “May I?” he asked, pulling Soap’s hand from his face and placing it over his stomach. Soap’s eyebrows knit in confusion, but he nodded. Roach took a deep breath and slowly guided Soap’s hand down his abdomen and into his pants. Under his boxers. 

He kept his eyes on Soap’s face as he did, watching the crease between his brows deepen as his fingers met coarse hair. And nothing else. His lips parted for a moment before his eyes widened as he realized what Roach had been talking about. His hand dipped lower, stopping with one of his fingers just barely resting against Roach’s clit. "Oh."

"Yeah," Roach said, "oh." He didn't move. He wasn't sure he could if he wanted to. His breathing felt fast and shallow; his heart was pounding so hard it was liable to crack a rib. He thought he might throw up. 

Soap didn't move either. His eyes roved over Roach's face, searching for something. Roach couldn't tell what. It made him want to die. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. He stared back at Soap, probably shaking like a leaf. He wasn’t sure if he should brace himself for heartbreak or for something worse.

When Soap finally moved, he was ready for either. He hadn't prepared, however, for Soap to pull him closer. His hand was still buried in Roach's pants, finger pressing against his clit rather than just brushing it. "Gary," he said softly. "Did you think this-" his finger twitched, pulling a strained noise from Roach- "was gonna scare me away?" Heat rushed up Roach's spine. He nodded, looking away in embarrassment. Soap's free hand found his face, turning it gently so he had no choice but to meet his gaze. "Well it doesn't." Roach let out a stifled sob. Why had he been so scared? This was Soap! How had he had so little faith in Soap? "It's a surprise, sure, but not an unwelcome one. Besides," his finger twitched again, harder this time. Roach pitched forward, his face falling into Soap's shoulder. Soap turned his head to whisper in Roach's ear. "I've got experience with this kind of body, too." His finger crooked, pressing hard into Roach's clit and making Roach realize that all of his motions had been very, very voluntary. 

“Soap,” Roach said, his voice coming out high and needy.

“Tell me what you need,” Soap whispered back, his accent thick and sending a shudder through Roach’s body.

“Need-” Roach repeated, interrupting himself with a quiet moan when Soap’s finger teased him again. Soap hummed in his ear, audibly pleased with himself. “Please,” Roach whined as Soap’s finger continued its mistrations. 

“Please what?”

“Please- John- Need you.” Soap chuckled, his free hand sliding down from Roach’s face to tangle in the hem of his shirt. He dragged the fabric upwards as his other hand stopped teasing to press harshly into Roach’s clit. Roach’s hips bucked involuntarily, pulling another strained moan from his throat. 

“Desperate, are we?” Soap asked, his hand slipping fully under the other man’s shirt. He groped at Roach’s torso, nails catching his skin ever so slightly. “Want me to take you right here against the wall?”

“Take me,” Roach managed, “please.” His hands were planted on Soap’s shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. He felt as Soap’s finger slid away from his clit and towards his hole.

“Show me how badly you want it.” Soap plunged two fingers inside Roach’s cunt. “Ride my fingers, Gary.” Roach groaned, knees buckling as Soap punctuated his demand with a sharp thrust of his fingers. He wrapped his arms around Soap’s neck, dropping his forehead into his shoulder as he began to drag his hips back and forth. The movement paired with the closeness of their bodies meant he was basically forced to grind against Soap’s cock, still trapped in his pants. He could hear the groans Soap was stiflingly every time Roach brought his hips forward.

Soap’s other hand took hold of Roach’s shirt again, tugging it until it was bunched under his armpits. He didn’t seem to mind that he couldn’t remove it fully as he leaned down to lick over the other man’s skin. Roach moaned at the heat of his mouth, his hips faltering slightly as he struggled to keep his pace. Soap noticed - because of course he did - and took pity on him. His mouth nipped at Roach’s skin as his fingers curled inside of him. He ran his tongue over one of the twin scars that decorated his chest. Roach’s hips jumped again, pulling another strained sound from his throat. Soap’s fingers retreated slightly before stabbing harshly back into him. His free hand caught him as Roach’s knees threatened to give, pressing his hips into the wall and holding them there. His occupied hand moved faster, his thumb moving to tease at his clit again. Roach couldn’t stop the whine he let out if he’d tried. 

“Fuck,” Soap said, low and breathy, and slammed his mouth into Roach’s. Roach moaned into his mouth, giving Soap the chance to shove his tongue behind his teeth. Soap’s hand was warm against his cunt, but his mouth was hot. His tongue pressed against Roach’s in a slow slide, sending more heat pooling in his gut. Soap’s thumb danced in tight circles. Roach could feel himself being worked closer and closer to the edge, a fact that Soap could likely tell based on the breathless gasps Roach was releasing into his mouth. 

“Soap- Soap- Soap-” he chanted, unable to say much else. 

“C’mon, Roach,” Soap whispered, pulling back. “I’ve got you, c’mon.” His fingers moved impossibly faster; the sounds they made as they plunged in and out of Roach told Soap exactly how much he was enjoying it. 

“John,” Roach’s voice was fully wrecked, “please. Pleasepleaseplease- John!” He cried, drawing out Soap’s name as his pleasure came crashing down on him. He collapsed into Soap, panting into his shoulder, mind too hazy to complain as the man’s fingers withdrew. He felt arms wrap around him, lifting his limp body into the air with ease. 

“Fuck, Roach,” Soap whispered as Roach lazily wrapped his legs around him. He could feel Soap’s arousal pressed against him and couldn’t stop himself from grinding down into him. The move drew groans from both of them.

Soap crashed their mouths together as he moved, carrying Roach away from the wall and towards his bed. He laughed at the sound Roach made when he dropped him on the mattress, and crawled between his legs, caging him with his body as he leaned down to kiss him again. His mouth traveled from Roach’s lips to his jaw to his neck. Roach moaned as he bit down over his pulse point. 

Soap’s hands dug under his shirt again, nails scratching lightly his ribs. He sat up, rutting his clothed cock against Roach as he did. He dragged Roach’s shirt up; Roach didn’t need any prompting to raise his arms so Soap could pull the fabric over his head. Once he’d freed Roach from the confines of his shirt, he sat back and stared down at him. His eyes roved over his skin, taking in scrapes and scars and bruises. Roach watched them follow the arc of the scars under his pecs. “Steamin’ Jesus, Gary, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, hands roving reverently over Roach’s skin. 

Roach blushed and turned his face, embarrassed. He wasn’t ashamed of himself, he just didn’t know how to handle the attention. He’d always kept his shirt on around the others. They hadn’t seen his scars; he didn’t know what to expect. He wasn’t scared of them; he was just scared. But Soap-

Soap pulled his face back towards himself. “You okay?” Roach nodded, biting his lip. “You wanna stop?”

“No! No,” Roach answered, sitting up. “No, I’m okay. Just overwhelmed for a moment, is all.” Soap looked unconvinced, but Roach didn’t want to give him a chance to argue. “‘Sides,” he said, bringing his face closer to Soap’s, “looks like you still need some help.” He slipped a hand between them to palm at the man’s cock. Soap hissed at the pressure, pulling a wicked grin to Roach’s face.

Soap glared playfully as he pulled Roach’s hand away and pinned it to the mattress. “Not so fast there, Gare. It’s still your turn.”

“But-” Roach started, cut off by Soap licking his way down his torso. He shuddered, free hand finding Soap’s hair as he moved lower and lower until he was kissing at the skin above Roach’s waistband. Soap wasted no time in yanking his pants down to his knees and mouthing at the wet patch he’d left in his boxers. Roach would’ve blushed if he wasn't too busy moaning. Soap teased him through the fabric until Roach was writhing underneath him. “Soap…” he whined.

“Need more, sweet boy?”

“Please, John, please,” Roach forced out between his pants.

Soap hummed into him, making Roach’s hips jump. “Alright,” he said. “But only since you asked so nicely.” He didn’t give Roach a chance to respond before his boxers were joining his pants, and Soap’s face was buried in his bare cunt. Roach’s newly freed hand tangled itself in the sheets as the other tightened its grip on Soap’s hair. Soap’s tongue dragged up from his cunt to his clit and back down. He repeated the motion a few times, drinking in the way Roach would groan and grind down into him. Tiny pleas and whines were slipping from his lips, which only spurred Soap on. His lips wrapped around Roach’s clit. He laved over it with his tongue, sending sparks up Roach’s spine. His back arched violently when Soap began gently sucking at the sensitive bud. The hand in Soap’s hair fumbled. He was still sensitive from his earlier orgasm; he couldn’t figure out if he wanted to push Soap away or hold him closer. He threw his head back into the pillows, letting out a breathy moan as he did.

When he picked his head back up, he found Soap’s eats staring up at him. The sight made him moan louder. “John-” he panted. 

“Fuck, Gare, you taste so good,” Soap said, voice heavy. “Shoulda made you ride my face.” Roach tugged at his hair, whining again, to which Soap smiled and dropped his face back into Roach’s crotch.

He lapped at Roach’s clit a few more times before returning his attention to his hole. He swirled his tongue around it before thrusting it in. Stars burst in Roach’s vision as heat flooded his senses. He tried to grind into Soap again, but Soap reached up and pinned his hips. He laughed as Roach whimpered and tried again, kissing his thigh. 

He worked his tongue in and out of Roach, his nose teasing at his clit as he did. Roach could feel his pleasure mounting again. His legs wrapped around Soap; thigh squeezing around his ears. Soap hummed happily, swirling his tongue as he did. Roach’s core tightened; his hips fought against Soap’s grip as his legs shook. His body thrashed as Soap tongue-fucked him until the tension in his gut snapped and he came on Soap’s face. He cried out before collapsing bonelessly against the mattress.

Soap sat back on his heels, grinning down at Roach. His eyes were hazy, and Roach could see him straining his pants. Even as fuzzy as his mind felt, he still wanted to make sure Soap was taken care of, too. “John,” he breathed, “you- you’re-” Soap chuckled and leaned back down, kissing up Roach’s body until he reached his mouth. Roach groaned at the taste of himself on his lips. “You’re still,” he tried again between Soap’s kisses. 

“I’m still?” Soap asked, clearly amused by Roach’s struggle. Roach ground his hips up in lieu of answering, but Soap got the message if the groan he let out was anything to go by. He glared down at Roach after he saw the grin splitting his face. “Shuddup,” he muttered, shoving Roach’s face to the side playfully.

“Need a hand?” Roach asked as the fog in his head dissipated slightly. 

“You offering one?”

“More than just a hand if you want it.” Soap raised his eyebrows, the haze in his eyes thickening slightly. Roach didn’t speak again, just pulled his thighs further apart. Soap’s eyes trailed down his body as he blushed. His look was heavy with lust, and tired as he was, Roach felt another wave of desire burning through him. He nodded when Soap met his eyes again, silently asking for confirmation. 

Soap nearly fell off the bed trying to get out of his pants. Roach couldn’t help his laughter as Soap straightened, kneeling between Roach’s legs, his erection straining in his boxers. He must’ve seen the hunger in Roach’s eyes because he made a show of slowly stripping himself. First came his shirt, which he dragged over his head at a snail’s pace. Roach drank in every inch of skin as it was revealed. He ached to put his mouth on it, to trace his scars with his tongue and mark his skin with his teeth. His heated thoughts were interrupted by warm fabric hitting him in the face. Soap laughed as Roach’s hands flew to pull the offending garment from his face. Roach was ready to pout at him when he finally freed his eyes, but the intention died as he took in the scene above him.

In the short time that Roach had been blinded, Soap had shoved his boxers to his knees. Roach knew that it was rude to stare, but he didn’t think Soap would mind in this instance. He knew most of the team had seen each other naked in the showers before, but Roach had always avoided showering with the others. So he’d never seen all of Soap before. And damn if he couldn’t pull his gaze away from the space between his legs. Soap’s newly freed cock bobbed slightly as he shifted to fully relieve himself of his boxers. Roach wasn’t a virgin by any means, but in that moment he was certain he had never truly desired someone before Soap. If he wasn’t so desperate to be railed into oblivion, he’d be begging Soap to fuck his throat.

Soap’s hand drifted to give himself a few lazy strokes. Roach’s eyes tracked the movement. He wanted that to be his hand; he wanted Soap to take anything and everything he wanted. Soap brought his other hand to his mouth, a small foil square held between his fingers. He tore it open with his teeth, rolling the condom on in one smooth move. He shifted forward, dragging Roach towards him with hands under his knees. He leaned over Roach, pressing their lips together and his cock between their stomachs. He groaned into Roach’s mouth, grinding against him. 

“Soap- if you don’t-” Roach said between Soap’s kisses, “get- inside- me-”

Soap chuckled and pulled back. “Impatient,” he chided as he lined himself up. He breached Roach slowly, his head thrown back in a groan as he did. Roach’s back arched off the bed, his hands scrambling for purchase in the sheets as Soap bottomed out. He was still for a moment, both of them panting slightly. It had been a little while since Roach had slept with someone; he closed his eyes, needing a moment to adjust the feeling of himself stretched around Soap. 

A sweaty forehead pressed against his own, and he opened his eyes to see the blue of Soap’s staring at him. “You okay?” he whispered.

Roach nodded. “You can move. When you're ready.” It was Soap’s turn to nod, pressing his face closer to Roach’s and drawing back to thrust in experimentally. Roach moaned at the feeling, his eyes rolling back as he did. He felt lips pressing kisses to his face. He laughed breathlessly and puckered his own. Soap understood and kissed Roach properly. Roach moaned into his mouth as Soap’s hips sped up. Every thrust spent sparks dancing up his spine, lighting his every nerve on fire. His hands untangled themselves from sheets, instead finding Soap’s legs. He held onto the other man with a bruising grip; his nails digging crescents into his thighs. Soap hissed as he did, nipping at Roach’s lips. He pulled the bottom between his teeth, making Roach gasp.

His hips jumped, colliding with Soap’s as he thrusted. Heat was pooling in Roach’s gut, but he’d already came twice. He was sensitive, even more sensitive than before. Every meeting of their hips punched tiny squeaks from Roach’s throat. His entire abdomen felt like it was on fire. White hot pleasure seared through his veins and clouded his mind. The feeling was laced with discomfort, but it only seemed to amplify the rest. His entire body was buzzing. The heat in his core was scalding, and Soap’s moans only added to the sensation. 

“John- John- John-” he chanted, unable to say much else. His limbs were limp; his body felt heavy. Still, he lifted his arms from Soap legs to his back. He dug his nails in again, dragging them down Soap’s skin as he felt himself hurtling once more towards his climax. Soap groaned, pulling his mouth away from Roach’s and laughing softly when Roach tried to chase his lips. 

“Gary- Fuck- You’re so- So hot-” he said between thrusts. “Look at you- Fuck-” Soap’s hands returned to his chest; his fingers traced over the twin scars under his pecs again before his thumb brushed over one of his nipples. Roach gasped, digging his nails deeper in Soap’s flesh. The move only made Soap roll his nipple between his fingers again. 

“John!” Roach shouted, “John- John- I’m gonna- I can’t-”

“Go on, Gary. C’mon. Cum on my cock.” Soap’s thrusts were growing sporadic. His chest heaved as his hands slid down to Roach’s hips. Or at least, one did. The other continued past his hip to grind against his clit again. 

Roach choked on the feeling. “God- Fuck- John! Too much! Too much! I can’t-”

“I know- Fuck- I know. God, Gary. Wanna feel you cum on my cock.” He rubbed little circles into Roach’s clit, making him gasp and whine until he couldn’t speak at all anymore. He babbled, incoherent even to his own ears. He felt Soap twitch inside of him, and with one last grind against his clit, Roach came for a third time. 

It was Soap’s turn to choke on a feeling. Roach felt him twitch again. “Gary- Oh fuck- Gary- Gary!” Soap cried. His hips pressed flush against Roach’s as he came. His hands pressed bruises into Roach’s hips. Soap’s mouth was hung open, his head flung back. It was the most beautiful sight Roach had even seen.

Soap collapsed onto Roach when he came down from his high. He panted into Roach’s neck, his breath tickling his skin. Roach let him lay on top of him for a few minutes before he wriggled underneath him. Soap ignored his protestations to mouth at his throat. Roach moaned slightly. “John,” he whined, “You’re heavy.” 

“Just a minute,” Soap said into his skin, “I wanna savor you.”

“Savor me in a minute,” Roach said, pushing at him lightly. Soap hummed and continued to pepper kisses across his neck. “Gotta clean up,” Roach complained.

“Fine, fine,” Soap whispered, nipping at his skin before pushing himself up. He gripped Roach’s hips again, much more lightly this time, and slowly drew himself out of the man underneath him. Roach’s eyes fluttered as he did. He watched as Soap slid the condom off and tried not to imagine what it would’ve felt like if he hadn’t been wearing it. He pushed himself to his elbows, eyes roving over Soap as he tried not to stare at his softening cock. He failed.

“My eyes are up here, Gare.” Roach blushed, embarrassed. Soap held a hand out, “C’mon, clean up time, yeah?”

“No, that’s your job,” Roach said, collapsing again. 

“Nuh uh,” Soap chided, striding over to the bed. He grabbed Roach by the arm to haul him up. Roach stayed limp, laughing slightly as Soap pulled him up. “Up you go, c’mon.”

“No.”

“Fine,” Soap dropped his arm before immediately scooping Roach up into his arms. Roach yelped in surprise, throwing his arms around Soap’s neck. 

“Soap!” he cried as he was carried towards the bathroom. 

“Gotta clean you up. You said so yourself.”

“Put me down!”

Soap laughed and set Roach on slightly wobbly legs. “Take a leak, love,” he said. 

“Such a way with words,” Roach said, closing the door between them.

After they were both done, Soap dragged Roach back into his bed. Roach sighed and burrowed himself into his side. They were silent for a while, just breathing each other’s air. Soap hummed softly, his fingers tracing idle patterns on Roach’s back. Roach kissed his pec.

“Thank you,” he said softly. He heard Soap turn his head to look down at him. He kept his face turned down. 

“‘Thank you’?” Soap echoed. “For what?”

Roach felt his face heat. “For not, you know, freaking out. About me- about my body.” 

“Gary,” Soap said softly. He sat up, forcing Roach up with him. “You don’t need to thank me.”

“But-”

“Gary,” he said, turning Roach’s face to his own. “I like you for you. And while I can’t speak for the others, I’d be willing to bet a whole year’s worth of babysitting duty that they do, too. Whatever body you have wasn’t going to change that.”

“It’s just-”

“Scary? I can imagine.”

“Just, let me be appreciative, okay?”

Soap sighed. “Okay.” 

Roach smiled and leaned in, kissing him softly. “Thank you.” Soap pulled them back down to the mattress. 

[noiranamnesis]

It was sudden.

In one breath, his body was pliant beneath her tough- head tilted with that irritatingly charming grin- and in the next, he recoiled as if he'd been struck. A sort of noise, then he all but tore himself away. Tension coiled in her limbs, heavy and sharp, hands rising in quiet reflex- palms open, empty. Instinct dragged her a step backward yet her eyes remained locked on him, searching for signs, but what she saw stole any words.

It wasn't the shock. It was something deeper. Wilder. A flicker of fear...or rage...or something far more fractured than either. Something that didn’t belong in the heat of a flirtation. And then he turned. No explanation. No confrontation. Just the abrupt severing of contact.

Slowly her hands lowered, his dismissal clear before he uttered a single word. When she finally spoke, her voice felt borrowed- thin and brittle in the shape of obedience. "Y-yes, your highness." No curtsy. No parting grace. Just the rustle of fabric as she reached for the half-eaten crêpe and turned away. She fled through the servants' passage, no once looking back. Her footsteps quickened with each hallway, palace corridors blurring until she found herself once again in the warmth of the kitchens.

It should have felt like sanctuary. It didn't.

She sank onto a stool and held her head in her hands. What was I thinking? That was the issue- she hadn't. She'd allowed herself to get caught in the current. Idiot. She had no place in that study. No business touching a king. Whatever had sparked between them- whatever had flared- was irrelevant now. She forced herself to sit still. To breathe. To replay every second of what had happened until memory dulled beneath repetition. The massage. The pressure. His breath. Her silence. His eyes. That terrible, familiar feeling of being too much in the wrong moment.

It doesn't matter. Keep your distance. Fade back into your station. Have someone else deliver the crêpes. Let someone else take the lead.

When her shift ended, she tossed the crêpe in the bin, washed the plate, and made her way to her room through the servants' paths, unnoticed. Behind the safety of her door, she locked it. Then she sat on her bed and simply waited- for lingering adrenaline to pass, for concerns to fade to something manageable- painfully aware sleep would pass her by tonight.

Morning came and eventually, she rose. She moved through her morning routine without urgency, tying her hair back with practiced fingers, smoothing her apron, rinsing her face in cold water. By the time the kitchen had warmed with midmorning bustle, Marinette was moving with steadier steps, greeting the others from her station. Dough. Flour. Eggs. Butter. Her hands moved without thought, only rhythm. She folded, whisked, turned, and piped.

Pleased that his actions had seemingly left her speechless, he watched the flush of heat rise on her skin with satisfaction. Of course, it was too much to hope that his shockingly blatant display would silence her for long and he wasn't surprised when she rose to the challenge.

"If you like. Although I'm not sure my prime minister would appreciate the interruptions," he replied, matching her casual tone, as his dark eyes intensely watched her every step towards him.

Despite himself, his head lolled to one side at her touch and he let out a pleased hum as she worked out the knots in his shoulders. An eyebrow curved upwards as her delicate fingers moved to unbutton his shirt, and he gave her a boyish, lopsided grin when she touched his bare skin. If this was Marinette's way of proving a point, he would happily lose the challenge every single time.

But a horrified, strangled noise escaped him at the pressure to his neck; he was suddenly transported back, two years ago, to when the delicate hands of another woman almost ended his life. Panicked, he scrambled backwards, almost falling over in his haste to stand up from his desk chair, and he gazed at Marinette, unseeingly. In her place stood his blonde ex-girlfriend, blood dripping from the knife she'd plunged into his abdomen.

No. No. With a great deal of determination, he regained control of his senses and pushed the past back where it belonged. His heart slowly returned to a normal rate, and his terror was replaced with a surge of shame. Meeting Marinette's gaze for a fraction of a moment, he abruptly turned around and began to inspect a book on the shelf. Clearing his throat, he was relieved to note that his voice - when he spoke - was at least steady.

"Perhaps you should returned to the kitchens."

[videogayymer]

"Self-indulgent Ghostsoap angst fic that I wrote instead of going to therapy." That's the title I guess

Warnings: Angst, intrusive thoughts, brief mention of self-harming but no actual self-harming, depression and anxiety.

Word count: around 4k

Based on my post about Ghost suffering from intrusive thoughts that on bad days he locks himself in his room because he's afraid he might actually hurt someone. Johnny is there to help him even though Ghost tries to push him away.

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

Johnny looks at the empty space in front of him, wondering where a certain Brit is. His plate is empty, coffee had already gone cold as he waited.

10 more minutes and I need to be at Price's office, where is that bawbag? He thinks to himself. It's not that unusual of Ghost to skip breakfast, but he'd at least come to the mess hall anyways for a cup of tea or just to chat with Johnny. There's no way he slept in, Ghost doesn't sleep in. Johnny can't help but think that something is off. So he waits a few more minutes until he has to start walking to Price's office.

Ghost didn't come.

After his meeting with Price, he had couple hours of training with the new recruits. But no sign of Ghost. At the end of lunch he starts to really worry. He grabs a tray of food and walks to Ghost's room.

He knocks. No answer.

"Ghost?" He calls out, but there's no answer. He knocks again, anxiety seeping in.

"Piss off, Johnny." He finally hears the familiar voice yell and Johnny is relieved, even though Ghost's reaction isn't what he really wanted.

"I didn't see ye at breakfast or lunch, I brought food." And when he hears no answer, no shuffling of feet telling him that Ghost is actually walking towards the door to let Johnny in, he knocks again. "Come on Ghost, open the door."

It alerts him a little when the door suddenly opens, Ghost standing in the doorway arms crossed and not saying a word. But his stare says a million words, eyes locked into Johnny's with a gaze that Johnny can almost feel drilling holes in his skull.

"I just wanted to see ye and-"

"And now you have seen me." Ghost cuts him off before he can finish, and backs away from the doorway into his room as he grabs the door to close it. But Johnny knew he would do that. Before Ghost can even close the door an inch, Johnny ducks under Ghost's arm that is holding the door up high, back pushed against the door to open it as he rushes into the room with the tray in his hands.

Johnny didn't think this through, he had just barged into his CO's room without permission. He looks at Ghost, who looks at him with an equally perplexed look. They stare a few seconds in silence, Johnny trying to figure out how did he just manage to sneak past Ghost. And Ghost is thinking the same.

"I'm not in the mood for this." Ghost breaks the silence and Johnny's surprised to find no anger behind his words. He was expecting Ghost to drag him out of his room by the collars of his shirt and slamming the door in front of him. But he sounds more exhausted, tired. Like he hasn't slept at all.

Johnny places the tray down to the table near the wall and turns back to look at Ghost, who's closing his door, locking it, but leaning on it as if ready to open it again soon.

"Is everything okay?" Johnny asks and notices how Ghost grits his teeth at the question.

"Yes everything is okay, you can go now." Ghost's attempt at lying is weak. He knows it's not enough to convince Johnny but he had to try.

"Oh fuck off." Johnny scoffs, showing Ghost just how little he managed to convince him that he's fine.

Ghost doesn't say anything, just waits at the door for Johnny to give up and leave. But he shows no signs of leaving him alone.

It's when Ghost notices the knife and fork on the tray that his thoughts get loud again. Fuck fuck fuck fuck stop stop stop don't think about it don't think about it don't think about it, Ghost repeats in his head, trying to push away the thoughts. He tries not to let his anxiety show on the outside, doesn't want to make Johnny worry any more. He knew he shouldn't have opened the door. He fucking knew it and yet, Johnny's here.

"What's goin' on in that head of yers?" Johnny breaks the silence again. But to Ghost there was no silence, not with the loud thoughts in his mind.

"Acting like a proper shrink now, Johnny?"

"Not like ye'd go see one anyways"

"You know me too well"

"Clearly not well enough"

A beat of silence. Soap started slowly walking towards Ghost, determined. He notices how the taller man shifts his position against the door, as if trying to get further away.

Ghost avoids Soap's gaze, looking anywhere else than his worrying eyes. Quiet like a whisper, like he doesn't even want to hear the next words, he says: "Stay back, Johnny."

But it's not an order, it's a plead and Ghost is begging Soap to stay away because he's scared of what he might do. He's scared of the thoughts swarming his mind and if Johnny gets too close, the might do something. He wants him gone, out of the room, far away from him as possible, because it's not safe.

And Johnny stops in his tracks, but only for a second before he takes another step, and another, his steps quiet and calculative, until he's an arm length away from Ghost. He's giving him space, not wanting to make Ghost feel like he's cornered, even though a part of him wants to hold him close until all of Ghost's worries are gone. But he's not a miracle worker and he knows that. He knows he can't do anything but it pains him so to see Ghost like this.

"Ghost I don't want to leave you by yerself if I don't know what's goin' on." Johnny whispers, equally quiet.

Ghost finally looks Johnny in the eyes and is met with a gaze of determination. He's not backing down. A sigh of defeat. "You're not gonna give up are you?"

Johnny fights down a smirk on his face. "Ye know me well."

Another sigh and Ghost slides down the door to sit on the floor, Johnny quickly accompanying him. They're on eye level now, Ghost still avoiding Johnny's eyes. Johnny, on the other hand, won't stop looking at Ghost. It's almost like he's studying Ghost's very core, as if he won't have a chance like this again. So he looks at the man sitting on the floor in front of him, who's head is slightly turned to the side and eyes glued to the floor. Who's chest is rising and falling too quick with the shallow breaths he's taking. Who's hands are tangled together in a nervous mess, fingers fidgeting on the skin.

"Ghost-", but before he can finish, Ghost cuts him off.

"Intrusive thoughts, Johnny. Or that's what the therapist called them before I stopped going. " And Ghost is shaking his head, one hand raising to his forehead to nervously massage it. He hopes it's enough to shield him from Johnny's eyes, afraid of what he might see now that he's said it.

But the man's reaction is not what he thought.

"Ye're gonna have to explain that one to me, I'm not sure what they are." Johnny says calmly, trying to hide his slight embarrassment for not knowing.

"You're gonna think I'm insane." Ghost breathes out, shakingly.

"Since when did ye care what people thought of ye?" Johnny teases, wanting to ease the tension in the air.

I care what you think, Ghost thinks to himself.

"Besides , with this job we all gotta be a little insane." Johnny continues, "But first, lift up that mask for me, aye? Ye look like ye could need some proper air and not suffocate yerself on that mask."

"I can breathe just fine." A lie again. Ghost feels like someone is squeezing his windpipe and crushing his lungs.

"Please?" Johnny asks carefully and the gentle plead has Ghost off guard. He can't help but look him in the eyes, even if just for a moment to see if there's any sort of malice in his eyes. He knows there isn't, he knows Johnny wouldn't ask him to take off his mask or even briefly lifting it up for no good reason. So he complies, slowly starting to roll up his mask from the hem and stopping at the nose, letting it rest there. His first instinct is to turn away again, away from Johnny's eyes.

Johnny's seen Ghost maskless only once, and the half Glasgow smile is right how he remembered: two thick, raggedy lines going from under his right eye straight down, the other line trailing to his upper lip, pulling the skin up a little. But this time he notices the scar across his throat, no doubt a wound from a knife that was just shallow enough that Ghost was able to walk away from that.

Johnny has to stop himself from making Ghost too uncomfortable so he keeps his searching around his lower face minimal, focusing on the task at hand. He notices that Ghost is able to breathe a bit easier, but he keeps fidgeting with his hands more nervously. He fights the urge to place his hand on Ghost's, to gently caress them. Now's not a good time, he thinks.

So he breaks the silence. "Ye can tell me now," Johnny encourages. "What are intrusive thoughts?"

Ghost hesitates again, but it's too late to back down now. "They are fucked up, violent thoughts that force their way into my mind whenever possible. And what's worse is that they're not only about me, but other people. Like people on base. Like you," he pauses, waits for a reaction that doesn't come. "They feel so real, as if I could easily do them. And I can't do anything about them, they won't leave me alone. On bad days they're so intense that ignoring them is harder, I feel like I could snap at any time." He pauses, trying to get his breathing in control. "So on bad days I lock myself here so I won't accidentally hurt anyone, except for..." Ghost backs down, realising that he can't say it, not without risking Johnny going to Price to ask him demand Ghost take a psych evaluation.

"Yerself. " Johnny continues on his sake, and much to Ghost's surprise he doesn't sprint out of the room. Doesn't go calling for Price and drag his sorry ass to the therapists.

"Yeah. " Ghost replies quietly, wishing he had the strength to look Johnny in the eyes.

"Have you?" Johnny's question is careful, gentle. There's no judgement in his tone.

"No."

Johnny let's out a breath he didn't know he was holding. A sigh of relief.

"See? Ye can hold them back." Johnny smiles a bit nervously, trying to find something positive in this all.

But Ghost doesn't answer. Instead, he buries his head in his hands as his breathing quickens again. He grits his teeth and mutters something under his breath.

"you should go, Johnny." He manages to say and he's hoping Johnny listens to him this time because he can't see Ghost in a state like this where his mind is against him and he doesn't know when he might actually hurt Johnny, or himself. He shuts his eyes and it's a mistake because the images of hurting Johnny flash in his mind, how he would do it a million different ways and what would come next. It feels so real that his mind seems like the reality, like it actually happened. Like he actually killed Johnny in the most insane and brutal way. Like it was something he'd do without batting an eye, like it was easy. Because he knows what he's capable of in the field, with nothing but enemies in front of him. He knows how easily he can eradicate them all without feeling remorse, and he'd be praised for it. What he doesn't know is when he turns against civilians and his team mates. Against Johnny. And it was easy, he had just done it. Killed Johnny. Who's next, he thinks. Him, or some other poor soul that got too close to him. A darkness consumes him, pulls him into a cold void. He thinks that maybe he's safe here, with no one around him. No one for him to hurt.

Until a warm body presses against his, wrapping arms around him and one hand making slow circles on his back. It's grounding him and he opens his eyes, bringing him back to the reality where he's sitting on the floor in his room with Johnny in front of him. Except now he's hugging him, caressing his back gently. He looks at his hands that are still hovering over his face, kept in place by Johnny's body hugging him. His hands are shaking. He let's out a shuddering breath.

Ghost then realizes that Johnny is saying something, repeating it calmly to his ear.

"Come back to me, Simon." Johnny says again and this time Ghost hears it properly. He slowly pulls his arms from between their bodies and wraps them around Johnny, and returns the hug.

"I'm here." Ghost says, his voice fragile. It shocks him a little, having Johnny hugging and caressing him so when just a moment ago Ghost had killed him. But that wasn't reality, he reminds himself. This, right here, Johnny alive and well, hugging him, whispering calming words in his ear, is real.

He doesn't realize he's crying until he let's out a small sob.

And Johnny hears it. God, he hears it. So he rushes to help.

"Ye're okay, ye're okay." He whispers to Ghost's ear.

"I'm sor-" but before Ghost can finish, Johnny cuts him off

"Don't ye dare apologize."

Ghost doesn't reply, just nods slightly. He doesn't have the energy to argue. All he can do is keep holding Johnny and let the tears fall. And Johnny let's him. After a while, Ghost calms down. His breathing has returned to normal, he's not shaking or sniffling anymore.

"I'm gonna pull away now, is that okay Simon?" he asks carefully, afraid to alert him in any way that might push him back to the ledge.

Ghost nods, and they both pull away from the hug, Johnny holding him by the shoulders still sitting in front of him as he makes sure Ghost is okay. He looks at the man's face, eyes red from crying, streaks in his black greasepaint where the tears rolled. And Ghost can't look him in the eyes again.

"Hey, look at me." Johnny tries gently and to his surprise, Ghost responds by slowly dragging his eyes to meet Johnny's. Now that he has his attention, he can't help but give a small smile. "They're just thoughts, and the fact that ye're fightin' them so hard proves that ye'd never act on them. I know ye'd never hurt those who don't deserve it. Ye have been battlin' these thoughts so long, they won't make ye do shite. They got nothin' on ye." Johnny continues, hoping that Ghost listens to him. He takes it as a yes when he sees Ghost relax again, his shoulders dropping a little.

"I just... need a distraction. They're too much." Ghost says quietly.

"And lockin' yerself here is not the way to go about it. If ye need a distraction, find me. I don't care if we're in the field, or trainin' or if it's the middle of the night, just find me. And I'll hold ye close and remind ye that ye're stronger than those thoughts. I'll crack the stupidest fuckin' jokes until you laugh and forget them. Okay?"

Ghost could start crying again after hearing all that, feeling his heart fill up with the realization that someone cares about him this much and is willing to help him through shit. And not just someone, it's Johnny. Thank god its Johnny.

"Thank you, Johnny." Ghost finally replies. He can't thank him enough for all he had just put up with. "I really mean it."

"I know." Johnny says, and starts slowly getting up on his feet from the floor. He lowers a hand to Ghost, offering to lift him up as well. Ghost takes his hand. "Are they still in yer head?" Johnny asks, one hand on Ghost's shoulder to make sure his legs are carrying him. He let's go when he sees that Ghost can stand on his own.

"Not nearly as bad. I think the worst is over." And he knows Johnny can't just magically make the intrusive thoughts gone for good, he'd need years of therapy to cope with them. But knowing that he has Johnny's help and company makes him less worried of them.

"Good, so ye can eat? I think the food's gone cold by now, but ye haven't eaten anythin' today."

Ghost looks at the food that he had completely forgotten about. He had only snacked on some protein bars stashed in his room earlier in the morning, but otherwise he hadn't eaten yet. He was actually hungry, he realized. "Can just go microwave them, no point in wasting food." He turns to pick up the food, but Johnny stops him.

"Not before we do somethin' about yer greasepaint, it's all over the place. Come on, let's get washed up."

And the way Johnny smiles at him, blue eyes bright and full of hope, has Ghost thinking that maybe, maybe he has the strength to survive another day.

[couldyouspeakmyname]

Could you please do some headcannons for yandere shishigumi kidnapping a kind and cute lioness in her own apartment? (You can choose if this is gonna be individual for each lion or if the entire team is going at the same time).

You know I love me some yandere content

Yandere is a portmanteau of two Japanese words. The first is yanderu, which means “to be sick,” and the second is deredere, used here for “lovestruck.” A yandere is often sweet, caring, and innocent before switching into someone who displays an extreme, often violent or psychotic, level of devotion to a love interest.

Bonus Chief Lion

-Maeve

Ibuki

Ibuki isn't the kind to kidnap without provocation. Either you were moving to far for him to see daily, or you were in some sort of danger.

Ibuki has no problem kidnapping you. He plans in advance and has the inner Shishigumi help him.

He feels terrible about it honestly he does, but he cant being himself to let you leave him

He uses chloroform to keep you asleep, as he kidnaps you in the middle of the night.

It was one of the smoothest operations the Shishigumi have managed to pull off.

When you wake up your in a comfortable room, and it's already decorated to your tastes. The only thing is the door locks from the outside and there's bars on the window.

Ibuki walks through the door, looking sheepish.

"I'm so sorry for this, but I couldn't let you leave"

Free

It doesn't take much for Free to jump to kidnapping you.

It could be anything as minor as him having a suspicion you could be moving even a few blocks away. Any distance further from him is a distance he can't allow.

It could also be something as small as someone seeming a bit to friendly, and you looked like you didn't dislike it.

For Free, sometimes you just have to take what's yours. Well, you're his, so he has to get you

He does it on a whim, and breaks in during the middle of the night. He does it with limited help of the other Shishigumi. They mostly just are there for back up

Free wakes you up, throwing a bag at you. "Back what you need, we're going home"

If you try to protest, he'll use force. He wont hurt you, but he's stronger than he looks. Sure, you're a lion too, but few can match Free in a fight. He'll hold you at gunpoint if he has to.

Once you're in the Shishigumi's mansion, you're not leaving until Free know you'll come back

Dolph

Dolph doesn't jump the gun. He's willing to allow you to live your life as easily as possible.

He'd much rather have an organic meeting and grow to be your lover naturally

Dolph wouldn't kidnap you unless he perceived danger to you, or your 'relationship'

Dolph asks you to come with him, and only if you refuse does he actually kidnap you.

It's not scary, so to speak. While you're sleeping, he drugs and kidnaps you. You don't even realize that you've been kidnapped until you've woken up

"Welcome to the Shishigumi."

Agata

Agata hates the idea of uprooting your life, just for him.

He really wants it to be your own choice, but when he's between a rock and a hard place he'll act

Like the rest, you'd have to be moving further than him than he's comfortable with. As a young lion active on social media, you'd have to move more than a days trip away. Perhaps he even saw another male on your social media and that could have also triggered him

Agata doesn't plan as well as the others, and simply unlocks your door (he had a copy of your key) and asks you to pack up and come with him. If you refuse? He's going to apologize the whole time but he will drag you kicking and screaming.

The cops wont be there in time, and Dolph is his back up. You really didn't have a chance.

"I'm so, so, sorry...but I couldn't let you leave"

Chances is they paid off your neighbors, so no one calls the authorities to look for you.

We all know the major would turn a blind eye anyway.

Dope

Dope is the kind to move you before he actually moves you. Your bank account? He has the info and has transferred funds.

Your job? He put together voice clips and had "you" quit.

So by the time you find yourself passing out at home after drinking juice/milk/coffee (beverage of choice) he's already made it look like you were planning on leaving for weeks

No one really says anything when you vanish

You just wake up in the mansion.

"Your move wasn't needed. I can support you just fine"

Miguel

Has some serious reservations about kidnapping you. Someone so sweet doesn't deserve something so traumatic to happen to them

Like many of the Shishigumi, he'd have to be seriously pushed in order to kidnap you.

The likelihood is that he perceived a threat to yourself, or to your future romantic relationship

He snatches you in your apartment in the middle of the night. He really didn't want to have to do this, but it's for your own good.

He's the sort that will grab you himself, but he does apologize more than once

"I'm sorry, but I promise that this will be a good thing."

Jinma

Jinma is another one who doesn't jump to kidnap you.

He does it when he's finally pushed after finding out through the grape vine that you may be moving, and he can't have that

It's already hard to to he can't just talk to you, and the idea of you moving both terrifies and enrages him

Jinma has the more burly members of the Shishigumi do the kidnapping, while he waits for you in the car.

He tries to sooth your anxiety, don't worry, he's not going to hurt you

"Don't worry, I have everything under control"

Hino

Hino, surprisingly, jumps to kidnapping pretty quickly.

He introduces himself early on, so you'll know who he is, just not why he broke into your place in the middle of the night or why he's kidnapping you.

Hino has no qualms about it either, you're really better off with him. He'll treat you like a queen. It's only fitting, given he's the king of beasts.

The reason he kidnapped you is probably trivial, it could have been something like a store owner getting to friendly.

Hino doesn't share very well.

"Don't worry Darling, you'll be well taken care of"

Sabu

Sabu is a yandere that knows he's a yandere and that his feelings aren't normal. Unlike the rest of the Shishigumi, the only thing that would push him to kidnap you is if your life was actually in danger

Perhaps his enemies found you, and now there's no other choice.

He plans ahead, and has movers scheduled to come collect your things the morning after he kidnaps you.

He probably finds some way to drug you, to make you easier to manage and snatch.

When you come to, most of your favorite things are in your room. A candle is burning with your favorite scent. Sabu is waiting for you to awaken.

"Your life was in danger, I couldn't allow you to die"

Chief Lion

Doesn't kidnap you himself, but he is in the car waiting once they drag you in.

Chief has no qualms about kidnapping, and after you kept his interest for more than a few months, he just has the Shishigumi do it for him.

They wait until it's dark, and grab you while no one else is around or awake.

No one will dare come after you, not once word gets out who took you.

You're hands are ties and you can't struggle very much.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance officially. We're taking you to your new home"

Most likely to jump to kidnapping

Free > Hino > Chief Lion > Agata > Ibuki > Dope > Jinma > Miguel > Dolph > Sabu

[liarian]

One more step

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

The world seemed very different when Reigen's words came back to keep him company at all hours. It was strange not to have some notification on LINE at any time of the day. Katsuya had begun to look forward to calls that lasted late into the night. With his very presence, it was as if Reigen had kicked his life back into gear after months in limbo.

Katsuya was still waiting for Reigen to ask when they could meet up but so far it hadn't happened. Katsuya didn't know whether to be disappointed at the lack of interest or grateful that he didn't have to cross that line yet. The last week he had finally managed to spend several hours at a time in the dining room watching TV with his mom. Going outside, in broad daylight, people surrounding him everywhere, was still more than he was capable of dealing with.

Katsuya looked at the clock. It was already twenty minutes past four. It was strange that Kageyama-san was late.

"Did he tell you if he wouldn't be coming today?" Katsuya asked his mom.

"Didn't I tell you? He called that he'd come a little later."

"Oh, okay."

Katsuya twisted his fingers, trying to control his anxiety. Kageyama-san's visit on Tuesdays at four o'clock had become one of his routines. The time change threw him off balance. With nothing better to do, he locked himself in his room again. Katsuya bit his thumbnail until his cuticles began to bleed.

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

Katsuya didn't remember falling asleep when the doorbell interrupted his lethargy. The headache seemed unwilling to leave him alone but he made an effort to get up. Wrapped in his orange kimono, he walked out of his room. The TV was barely a murmur in the background.

"Are you sure giving him a surprise is a good idea?" Reigen's voice came from the foyer.

"If anything happens, I'm here. There' still time for us to go."

Katsuya rushed out to peek out the door leading to the foyer, convinced that his senses were playing tricks on him.

"Reigen?" Katsuya muttered.

His hands were shaking. His heart was pounding so hard that Katsuya was unable to hear anything else.

"Hey!" Reigen raised his hand in a shy greeting. "Long time no see."

"W-what are you doing here?" Katsuya was unable to look away, afraid that if he blinked even for an instant, Reigen would vanish before his eyes.

He still couldn't quite believe he was there. He had grown since the last time they had seen each other. The black gakuran was a little short in the sleeves.

"Kageyama-san thought it was a good idea." Reigen lowered his head, his bangs hiding his face. "And I didn't know if you'd say yes if I asked about coming over."

"I-I can show you my room, if you want."

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

Katsuya would never have imagined that he would feel comfortable having someone else in his space but Reigen seemed the exception to all his rules.  Katsuya had barely said two words, glad just to see him there.

"Is that the NES Mario Bros?" Reigen pulled the box off the shelf and caressed it like someone holding a treasure in his hands. "And this is the first Zelda! How cool! Have you ever played them?"

"Only on emulators. The originals right now are sought after, they're collector's items."

Reigen put the games back in their place as if he was going to break them by accident. Being cooped up with Katsuya couldn't be what Reigen had in mind as an entertaining afternoon but for the moment he seemed content to snoop around every last corner of his bookshelves.

"Oh, Akira. I hear it's good but I've never gotten around to reading it." Reigen dragged the first volume with him and sat down on the bed cross-legged.

His fingers didn't seem to be able to sit still for a second. He flipped the comic up and down, his attention pausing for just a moment on a page.

"What else do you usually do when you're at home?" Reigen kept talking without waiting for an answer from Katsuya. "The models are a hoot, did you make them?"

Katsuya nodded his head. Anyone would have thought Katsuya was pathetic for not being able to leave his room in five months but not Reigen.

"Oh, the Breath of the Wind, I got that one!" Reigen picked up the Zelda game box on the desk. "Is that the one you're playing right now?"

"You don't mind if we stay here?" Katsuya asked nervously.

"Huh?" Reigen stared at him, head cocked to one side. The game was still in his hands. "Is there somewhere you want to go? Your room has a lot of cool stuff."

Katsuya shook his head. He wasn't sure what he would have done if Reigen's answer had been different.

"Anywhere is fine with me." Reigen shrugged. "You're fun to be with."

"Really?"

"Really."

[its-not-a-phase-mom-i-d8-demons]

pairings: Lucifer x Fem!Reader, Mammon x Fem!Reader, Leviathan x Fem!Reader

warnings: tw abandonment (but it turns out okay, I promise), mentions of the act of birthing,

A/N: you came to the right place! as the second oldest of six children, I have some experience when it comes to pregnancy:) I hope you don't mind, nonny, but I'm gonna split this up into a few parts so I can do the dateables as well!

Lucifer

The moment you had shyly produced the positive pregnancy test from the pocket of your hoodie, it felt like Lucifer had entered into a fever dream filled with nursery designs, baby names, the expenses that pile up before the baby even arrives, researching human pregnancy, keeping you out of harm's way and healthy and happy...

So when you first stagger out of bed and rush to his bathroom, hand clamped over your mouth and one shaky hand on your slightly swollen tummy, Lucifer isn't surprised

He is very concerned, however. You had been so nervous to tell him of your pregnancy, you waited until the last moment before your bump was noticeable to tell him

That meant you had been suffering from all of these pregnancy side effects before he'd permanently moved you to sleep in his room

Lucifer hoists himself out of bed and pads into the bathroom, gathering up your hair, if any, into his fist and pulling your hunched form between his legs for support

You hate this feeling with a passion; throbbing stomach and a lump in your throat with little to no vertigo and tears rolling down your face as you try and catch your breath

You tell him it hurts, you ask him if he can take the pain away as your head rests on his chest, lashes fluttering with wooziness

Lightheadedness was unbearably common; you would suddenly grip his sleeve and he could watch the color drain from your face and your knees get shaky, body beginning to sway

He always catches you though, finding a place for you to sit or lie down and gather yourself

Tummy rubs become more common; the feeling of his hands against your bare tummy, spreading their warmth and nullifying the ache, allowing you to relax

He's extremely attentive as well and can tell whenever you need something

Water? Here's a cup sweetheart, remember, you're hydrating and eating for two people!

Craving something? Chocolate? Fried pickles? Chips of some kind? sweets? He's stockpiled anything you could want and locked it away just for you.

I feel like Lucifer would want your baby to be a little girl. A little princess he can carry on his shoulders and spoil with his love and gifts.

Satan ruined him for having another baby boy, but if that's how the cards fall, he certainly wouldn't mind. Unfortunately, he'd be constantly walking on eggshells, afraid he'll make your little boy into another rebellious child

That's the last thing he wants

Lucifer does his best to keep his kid away from Satan and Belphie and out of the 'Formerly Anti-Lucifer League', but sometimes you're taking a nap or out shopping with Asmodeus, and Satan and his brothers manage to coerce the little one into their shenanigans

One thing is for sure though, even if Lucifer didn't want any kids and the creation of one was unplanned, he would never ever turn you away

He's very responsible and does anything in his power to make the pregnancy as easy and happy as possible

On the day you are to give birth, he's a mess

He has already sweat through 3 shirts by the time the IV has been secured to your hand

Everything he says doesn't come without a stutter

He's squeezing your hand and kissing your hair during labor, trying to distract you from the burn between your legs as much as he can

You probably need extra stitches from baby's horns ngl

Definitely cries before the baby is even put in your arms

Refuses to let his brothers come and see you, "They can wait until we go home."

Lucifer is Smitten™

He smooches the tiredness under your eyes and tells you to get some rest

Surprisingly, he enjoys a lot of the names from the human world you discuss and will most likely pick one of those

But if it's a girl, her name is Lilith. I'm sorry MC, your input is invalid at this time

You don't regret 'final day in the devildom sex' at all when you get to witness the Avatar of Pride reduced to tears when the nurse puts the child in his arms

P-P-Pregnant? MC, ya better be jokin'...

Mammon

You weren't, judging by the pregnancy test(s) clutched in your fist

He's not mad at you, he's not upset, (in fact, he's the happiest he's ever been), he just scared

Broken Condom Victim™

He loved you just a bit too hard last week...

but let's be real here, HIS MC, carrying HIS baby?

That's like the highest level of ownership on his lovely human you could get! Levi, Asmo, Beel, Lucifer, everyone would be SOOOO JEALOUS!!!

AND

He gets to have a little one running around again!

You saw how sweet he was to babified Satan in the obey me anime premier! He LOVES little kids and nothing would make him happier than someone to play with (besides MC of course) that wouldn't make fun of him for messing up and being silly!

AND

You're so pretty!!

I mean, ya were always pretty, but somethin' about ya is different and yer even more beautiful than before somehow!

Mammon said, his entire face the shade of a pomegranate

Pregnancy glow is REAL

Asmo agrees, after stealing you away from an extremely overprotective mammon and hiding in the attic to chat without disturbance (mammon)

But as much as YOU know he would be the BEST father, comments from his brothers continue to drag him down and the evenings he cried into your shoulder became more and more frequent as your pregnancy progresses

Mammon, as we all know, is, in fact, a tiddy man

He likes to touch and squeeze them, and just gently hold them while cuddling or even browsing in a store, he'd just come up behind you and touch your boobs

(also, mammon likes all sizes, so if you have next to no tiddy like me, you'll be at his mercy as well. those with the large honkers, however, watch yourself)

Now that there's a miracle growing in your tummy, other parts of your body are preparing for its arrival, including your chest

Swelling, swelling, soreness, growing and darkening of the nipples, and swelling make it so Mammon can no longer touch your pretty tiddies :(((

(grammarly didn't like that word)

On the day mammon snack size was to be born, mammon is silent but extremely fidgety

It was early in the morning when you'd shaken him awake like, "mammoney, I'm going into labor" and he was out of bed and out the door with your luggage before you finished blinking

After grabbing your DDD's and you, he carries you down to the car (what dysfunctional family doesn't have a car? a nice one (Mercedes, Audi, you get the idea) for lucifer and a Volkswagon bus or something for his siblings to share) and drives quickly, but very carefully drives to the hospital, holding your hand the whole way.

He covers your eyes when they put the IV in, just in case you're squeamish, and rubs your arms as the drugs begin to take effect and there's a little fear in your eyes at the thought of pushing an entire human/demon being out of your coochie

He assures you and never lets go of your hand no matter how long you're in labor

When it's all over with and you are resting in your hospital bed waiting for the doctors to finish the Apgar tests and give you your baby

Mammon is speechless as the nurse places the baby in your arms

That's HIS KID!!

Immediately starts crying

The little horns poking out of the blanket? Those look just like his!!

Judging by the bit of hair on it's head, it looks like the baby will have hair like yours

If it's a baby boy, he thinks it should be named "Mammon II" but you just giggle and remind him of the deal he made with lucifer long ago, that his first born child, no matter the gender, had to have 'Lucifer' somewhere in their name

Human names are dumb, except for yours of course, so he searches for suitable demon names

The last thing he wants is a kid named Lucifer, so that will be the kid's middle name

He really regrets his past decisions now

Leviathan

"Levi?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"I'm pregnant."

*leviathan has been KO'd*

No joke, this man is literally floored and didn't wake up for a while and you were afraid you had just slain the fucking Lord of Shadows

Some Henry you were

You had to call Lucifer in to wake him up because he was still flat on the floor a half and hour later

Mammon is more that happy to tip a bucket of ice water on the face of the son of a bitch that impregnated HIS MC

Levi wakes up and pounces on you, gripping you tightly by the arms

"You're k-kidding r-right?"

Him? A father?

Uhhhhhhh

Unfortunately, Leviathan.exe has stopped working, try again in two thousand years

I hate to say this, but he definitely detaches himself for a while until his brothers, especially Asmodeus, literally beat him into shape

He comes back to you, a little bruised and sobbing, but not from the beating he just received

He's so sorry he neglected you! He's such a horrible demon, undeserving of your welcoming nature

He's gonna be the worst dad, and he's not good enough for you, and his kid will hate him just like everyone else does, he doesn't deserve you, he's so sorry for making you suffer the side effects and feel all alone,

Sir, I-

FALSE

It's your turn to shake some sense into him, reminding him that he would be the. best. dad!!

Not to mention the fact that you were just happy he realized his mistakes and came back to you

He begs you to sleep in his bed tub with him for security, and you have to admit his tail is very comforting

Levi does extensive research on human pregnancy and now at the dinner table, instead of talking about the latest slice of life anime he'd been watching, he's just spouting random pregnancy facts and you're laughing so hard it brings you to tears

When the weird dreams and vivid nightmares happen, Levi is right behind you, rubbing your swollen tummy, and letting you talk about them

A lot of them were about him and about your future child

Most of them were about how they got hurt in some way, either that or YOU got hurt and the baby died

These, more often than not, brought you to tears and stress you out, but Levi is right there, okay? Nothing can hurt you, nor would he let anything happen to you on his watch

Learns how to massage you (safely) to reduce stress

Definitely talks to the baby a lot

Levi begged you to be induced so the birth was safe and not a sudden occasion and you agree

On the day the doctor recommended, you arrived at the hospital and got down to business

Levi didn't really want to be in the room with you, but he knew he had to for your sake and he'd played a few birth simulators from both perspectives and you really needed him

Kinda sits there awkwardly comforting you and encouraging you, holding your hand and caressing your cheeks, a bit flushed from exertion and tears

Listen

If the baby is a boy, his name will be Henry and that's final

If it's a girl, he doesn't really care, as long as you don't name her 'mammonia' or something dumb like that

definitely crashes your hospital bed to snuggle until the baby is ready

cries when the baby wraps its extremely small digits around one of his own

also at the little horns protruding from its head

and the tuft of purple in its head

Also Smitten™

He's so excited to get home and show off his beautiful baby to his brothers and then formulate a plan to raise the kid to live and breathe TSL just like his daddy <3

--

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[mewmurdock]

someone new.

summary: there's an art to life's distractions.

pairing: eventual hades! loki x persephone! reader

warnings: implied smut, alcohol consumption

a/n: here it is, the first part of foreigner's god. as said in this fic's masterlist, these will not be chapters, but rather short stories and one shots that can be read separately or as one whole piece. it's up to you.

i plan to base each part off of one or two hozier songs. this is inspired by "someone new".

is there a right way to fall in love?

    that’s what loki asks himself every day — well, every night — when he spends his free time at bars and gatherings. populated widely with fellow gods, goddesses, and spirits of many colors and passions; these bars are perfect places to find someone new.

    being the god of death, however, puts loki at a bit of a disadvantage. yes, the stereotypes are, unfortunately, true. loki is dark, a little antisocial, and very quiet. beautiful in appearance — death is seductive, at least to the willing.

    ‘the willing’ being many a spirit, many a dryad or goddess or creature who wants bragging rights, or a little nightly thrill. ‘that’s right,’ they say, ‘i had a little dance with death last night.’

loki doesn’t mind the mornings when his temporary partners talk about the nights, but he always cringes when they mention that accursed french phrase — la petite mort. it’s a joke to them. a mockery.

   yet, they stay, and sometimes, they come back for another little death.

    the spirits and goddesses never make a big impact on him. he is with one for a night, then another for a night, and so on. he falls in love every day with someone new and it’s a bore. a bore and a drag.

    dark caresses don’t do much to numb the pain: the pain of loneliness and solitude. the ache in his heart is constant, tearing at his mind whenever it can. alcohol can't do much either — all gods have a very high tolerance. mead was made for them.

   so loki is left with no escape besides those that come from the willing. little deaths. they make him feel loved.

   no...

   no one loves death. some crave him. but they don't love him.

   that’s the common theme running through loki’s head every time he takes someone home with him, or goes upstairs with them to the top floors of the inns he’s at, where the bedrooms are. it’s a distraction.

   however, the cycle ends when, while pointlessly wandering around his usual bar, he sees someone new one night. you.

   you radiate this... this warmth that he’s never felt before. everyone around you seems to be affected by it too - they don’t treat you as the life of the party, but they do gravitate towards you like birds to a nest. 

    and you’re quite shy, but infectiously happy and cheerful. you’re so beautiful, with your bright eyes that he knows are wide and filled with wonder, and your lovely skin that he knows is so soft. and your smile that he knows is so comforting to all who see it.

   to everyone else, you feel like they’ve just wandered into a happy memory, or a sun-lit room that’s pleasantly warm and golden. you feel familiar. ordinary, but lovely all the same.

   to loki, you feel... feel like something he’s only experienced in dreams. so, really, he’s never felt it before in his immortal life: something warm and alive and... and anticipatory. like there’s new things about to come up to the surface — flowers, new animals, maybe. you give off a sense of... he can’t describe it well. a slow and joyful awakening something.

   and you also feel completely and utterly powerful. unstoppable. he’s terrified of you, and yet he’s drawn to you. you’re so fascinating, strange. not as if you could end the world, no, that’s his own job. but it’s as if you can bring the whole world to life, raise it back up again after the chaos fades.

   you feel like spring. like rebirth. like new life.

   and that’s when it hits him.

   persephone. he’s heard the name passed around before, but before now, he has never seen the face behind the name. something about this sparks some fear in him: how would persephone, goddess of spring, daughter of demeter, react to seeing anyone even remotely like himself?

   for a moment, he’s grateful that you’re not looking at him; you’re actually looking at the table, at the drink you’re sipping. there’s a look on your face that isn’t bored, nor afraid. maybe... observant.

   people are around you still. not crowding, but not interacting with you either. it’s like you have a bubble around you, keeping everyone from getting too close. maybe it’s your doing but maybe it’s theirs. honestly, you’d think that dryads and gods and goddesses and spirits of all forms and colors and subjects would be more accepting.

   he pities you. you seem lonely.

   loki takes a few steps forward, betraying his own fear. like the red sea, the crowd parts. some are bold and unafraid, and they give loki varying looks: disgusted, seductive, snarky. you don’t notice him until he sits down in front of you, at the other end of the table.

   “hi,” he says calmly. he manages a small smile. “you’re new here, aren’t you?”

   your eyes lift to lock with his own. immediately, you recoil just the slightest bit. he knows what you’re thinking: wait, that’s hades! god of death... wh-why is he talking to me?

   “it’s alright,” he soothes. “don’t worry. you’ve probably heard of all the stories: gods kidnapping and doing terrible things to goddesses and spirits and dryads. i’m not here to do any of that. i promise.”

   with a single, somewhat confused blink, you nod. “m-my mother has told me a lot about that stuff,” you say slowly, as if saying anything too revealing will somehow alert demeter and get you in trouble. “she’s... she’s terrified...”

   “what is she terrified of? that those terrible things might happen to you?”

   “yes,” you say. “she’s told me that she’s had nightmares in the past. specifically about you. how you’ll kidnap me and take me to hell to live with you.”

   he laughs at that - a rich, amused laugh that takes the shivers out of you. “that’s bullshit. overprotective mothers, yeah?”

   you shrug. “she loves me.”

   “and are you afraid of me, princess?” the last word is whispered. his voice extremely soft - it’s a curious question.

   he notices how you lick your lips. “no,” you say. he notices how your eyes flick all over him. “no, i’m not.” and you seem truthful.

   “smart girl,” he says with a grin. “i hate liars. there’s not a god on in the world that’s ever been truthful. well, besides jesus. yahweh. whatever you wanna call him.” loki leans back, crossing his hands behind his head and bringing his feet up to the table. “your father, though... he’s the worst of ‘em. having children with other women, including your mother, while hera has to sit by and watch, and then lying about it.”

   “we’re gods,” you say. “i'm not trying to justify things but... we’re far from perfect.”

   “damn right we are. we’re fucked up. good. we can agree on something. most days, people think us gods are... perfect things. role models. and, maybe some are. but not us. not the gods of olympus.”

   he pauses, takes a swig from a beer bottle that was not in his hand a few seconds ago. “i was wondering if you wanted to do what humans do.” loki winces at the awkwardness. “when they're... y'know. interested in someone.”

   “you're interested... in me?” you ask, incredulously.

   “yeah, i am.” one sip of beer has loosened his tongue. or maybe that's just his confidence soaring now. “maybe this hasn't been the best introduction to things but i would love to take you out sometime. show you things.”

   “my —” you swallow. “i'd get in trouble.” you shrink away just a bit.

   his smile fades and it's replaced with a sadder, more sincere look. “the best things in life have risk to them. it's time i show you that.”

   and really, he does feel sorry for you. it's your first time at a bar, you're lonely. no friends as far as he can tell. an overprotective goddess mother.

   “think of it this way. i think you're very pretty and i like your honesty. i would like to help you see the world, and to have a little fun, since your mother has obviously never let you do anything in your very, very long life.”

   “i'm twenty—one.”

   “and now i'm wondering if demeter actually has you tell people that, as if you're a teenage mortal.” loki shakes his head, disappointed. “that's pathetic. you're a bajillion years old. you're a goddess! you should be able to do whatever the fuck you want, right?”

   when there's no answer from you, he sighs. leans forward to sit normally, putting both of his elbows on the table and pointing his hands at you. “alright. i'll roll with it for now. you're twenty—one. i guess. you can drink. you can go out alone to bars and other places. you can meet new people. you're an adult. think about that.

   “so, again. i think you're very pretty and i wanna show you around. get to know you. would you like to do that with me?” he raises his eyebrows a little, waiting for a response.

   it's an eternity before you can win a battle in your mind. slowly, you nod, giving him a smile. “yeah,” you whisper. “yeah, i would. thank you.”

   “don't thank me just yet, sweetheart. i haven't shown you anything yet.” he gets up, pushes his chair in.

   before he leaves, he winks at you. “call me loki. it's... not as dreadful... as hades. and... what do i call you?”

   you say your name, your voice quiet.

   “much better than persephone, i think. it suits you. we'll keep in touch, ok?”

   “okay,” you say. butterflies are flying rapidly in your stomach.

   loki leaves you there. he'd much rather take you back to your home himself, but that would be too risky for the time being. for now, he walks out of that bar feeling like the king of the world.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

All night long.

CHIBS TELFORD.  ┃ SOA.

❝ request by @filipthescot: Holaaaaa mi amooooor!! If you feel like it, I'd love to read Prompt 4 from the smut list with my man Filip😇💚

❝ request by @ladyreapermc: Number 2 for the smut prompts with my favorite Scot Chibs? Please? 🙏🏻

❝ request by @irenne-stans: Could you do the fluff promt #10 with Chibs please 🥺💗

❝ prompts: “One more cheesy pick up line and I’m gonna bend you over the table and fuck you in front of everyone”. / “I know you think about me at night”. / “It smells like… I don't know… jealousy?”

❝ words: about 1.4k.

❝ warnings: nsfw, smut, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, mention of bodily fluids, explicit thoughts, language, and i think that's all.

Gif credits to the author.

MASTERLIST.

Chibs is burning in rage watching you flirt with the new prospect, sitting on the bar with a glass of whisky in his hand and the other arm over the clingy wood. He's trying to figure out what it's been so fun to make you laugh this way. He's a man of jokes too and he hasn't seen you like that with him. That's pissing him off. And all that he wants to do right now is to put his gun on that guy, where the sun doesn't shine and blow out his guts.

But he has to pretend he wasn't looking at you like a maniac the moment you turn around to walk straight to the bar and grab another beer. Resting your forearms on the edge to wait for your drink, you tilt your head towards him.

“What's that face for? Someone told you Nessie doesn't exist, uh?”

Slowly, too slowly, he moves his eyes from the prospect to you. Annoyed. About to punch anyone that crosses his path right now.

“'Am not having fun like ye, that' fo' sure”. Chibs replies, taking a sip from his drink.

You frown funnily at his words, not really believing what is happening right there. “It smells like… I don’t know… jealousy?”

Waving a hand close to his face, you pretend to be smelling the environment around the two of you, before he slaps it playfully as you finally have erased the sour grimace from his face.

“C'mon, Chibsy. Don't deny what is clear to my eyes”.

“Ye're blind, lass”.

About to challenge him, you take a step closer placing your index finger on his collarbone, dragging it over his shirt down through his torso. You see him gulping inevitably, clicking his tongue with feigned annoyance, putting your eyes away from yours. “I know you think about me at night”.

Chibs purses his lips not enjoying that game you're playing and, that under his opinion, will end up worshipping himself in the darkness of his room while thinking about you —like uncountable times he has done.

“The prospect had the balls to talk with me, but he's a five on my scale”.

“Bad luck fo' him”.

“Good for you, isn't it?” You say poking the tip of his nose graciously, earning again his complete attention. “From one to ten, you're a nine and I'm the one you need”.

The Scottish man chokes on his drink as the liquid falls through the wrong side, making him cough while cleaning his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyebrows are frowned angrily, thinking you're just making fun of him.

“Stop playen'”.

“I'm not playing, but if you want, I know a game. It's called Titanic”.

Rubbing his face with his free hand, Chibs snorts deeply, laying his eyes on you waiting for a continuation or an explanation.

“You can be the ocean and I'll go down on you”.

“One mo' cheesy pickup line and amma bend ye over the table and fuck ye in front of everyone”.

Licking and biting your bottom lip, you grab the glass in his hand to empty it with a gulp to leave it over the bar, an instant before gripping your fingers around his wrist to drag him straight to the dorms. You've been waiting too much time for this to happen. And yes, maybe you were playing at first, tasting the water. But he wasn't lying when he has threatened you. Of course, you two earn more attention than you could expect, when the crew watches you disappearing from the party —between cheers and claps and finallys.

As soon as you're locked inside his room, your lips crash with his. You're too necessitated, so is he; devouring your mouth while your fingers manage to undo his belt and the zip of his jeans. Chibs grunts with his tongue inside your cavity and his huge hands squeezing your ass, anxious to feel that same warm wrapping around all his hard length. And you aren't going to make him wait, having the same burning desire for tasting him.

Pushing him to the nearest wall, reclining his back against it, you roll down his black tight jeans and boxers to his ankles —as promised, you kneel. Chibs can't take off his eyes from yours, looking at you begging in silence to alleviate the bittersweet pain concentrated in his hardness. God, he has dreamt about this thousands of times. Your tongue swirling around his dick, your throat welcoming him, your lips sucking his soul out from his body.

So when you fill your mouth with his thick length until your nose touches his pelvis, Filip can't help but close his eyes uttering a pleased grunt echoing the room. His fingers land automatically on your head, forcing you to hold his reddened glans against your walls, making you gag vibrating his whole anatomy. He could cum just by feeling these same shivers another time.

“For chrissake…” He moans swinging your head back and forth, whilst your left hand massages his balls.

Chibs has never felt this good. He's trying to keep calm and control himself from fucking your mouth as he'd like to do right now. Brutality, fastly, without mercy. He can't wait to see his cream spilling down the curves of your lips, making you choke on his dick.

“God… Ye look so beautiful”. He whispers as good as he can.

His vocals cause you to smile somehow, increasing the pace of your dance wrapping his whole extension with the only intention of driving him crazy. And you're getting it, preventing Chibs from breathing quietly. A mix of gasps and whining comes from the deepest place of his soul, helping you with the rhythm needed for more. He buries his dick down your throat, filling your cavity and forcing your walls until your uvula trembles above his most sensitive skin.

He knows he's so close, ashamed for not lasting more than a couple of minutes. He's a man that can please you all night long, but the wait has wreaked havoc in him. Too much time spent on imagining how it would feel. Too much time spent on imagining himself pawing your body, nailing his ringed fingers into your soaked cunt. Too much time spent on imagining hearing you moan his name, begging him to let you cum while riding his face.

And of course, he's going to fulfill his fantasies tonight, leaving your legs shaking and your pussy flooded by his seed.

Just to think about it, Chibs has to contain his breathing when you abuse your throat one last time, feeling how he empties his heat inside your mouth. Ripping his chest by swallowing a loud delighted grunt, as his hands continue pressing your head deeper, you cough slightly until he loosens his grip. Filip doesn't give you time to recover, urging you to stand up, colliding your mouth to taste himself in your saliva. The best combination he has ever savored.

With a tight hand gripping your throat he makes you turn around, pinning you to the wall, using the other to eagerly roll up the gems of your dress and push down your wet panties enough to slam to curved fingers inside you. You cry out with his lips stuck in yours, pounding you with so much savageness that he needs to husk you, or the whole Charming will hear you.

“Ye… Bad girl… Playen' with the prospect ti make me feel jealous…” He groans huskily, not being able to think about it as his thrusts cloud your head. “Gonna make ye understand why whiskey is better than bourbon”.

“Please, Ch— Chibs… I fucking beg you”.

You want him to fuck you, that's evident. You want him to fuck you in every single possible position, in every single corner of this damn town. And he's going to do it —but…

“Say ye're sorre”. He hisses onto your ear, nailing his fingers as much deep as he can, forcing your limits and pushing them to beyond. “Say ye're sorre fo' making me wait, fo' playen with me”.

“I am… I a— am sorry”. You sob placing your hands on his shoulders looking for some balance, as he raises you on your tiptoes. “I am so sorry, Chibsy… Please… Please, fuck me”.

“'Corse I will, my love. Till ye beg me again, but ti stop”.

If you've liked it, lemme know in a comment, I’d really appreciate it. Reblogs are welcome too, so more people can enjoy it! ✨

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✕ɢᴇɴʀᴇ — ꜱᴍᴜᴛ

✕ᴡ.ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ — 𝟹.𝟶ᴋ

✕ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ — ɴᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ - ꜱᴛᴀʏ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ, ʙʟᴏᴡᴊᴏʙ, ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ꜱᴇx, ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀ ꜱᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ, ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ, ʜᴀɪʀ ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ / ᴛᴜɢɢɪɴɢ, ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟɪɴɢ

✕ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ — ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ɴᴇᴡ ᴛᴀᴛᴛᴏᴏ ᴀʀᴛɪꜱᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇ ꜱᴜᴄʜ ᴀ ʙᴀᴅ ɪᴅᴇᴀ

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the familiar smell of cigarettes hit your nose as soon as you stepped into the small shop, the bell at the top of the door ringing throughout the room as the door closed behind you.

"might as well interview for a job here at this point, y/n."

a smile crept it's way up your mouth at the voice, eyes making contact with another pair in front of you. "yeah well, it sucks that I already have a job. but thanks for the offer, san."

the pen in his hand tapped in tune with the music playing from the speaker on his desk while he filled out some paperwork, his eyebrows knitting together when he saw you were about thirty minutes early.

"what's up? I'm pretty sure your appointment was at 5:00 pm, not 4:30," san said, standing up out of his chair so he could lean on the countertop in front of you. "lucas doesn't come in until then."

your head tilted in confusion as your eyes flickered to your watch. dammit, he's right.

you were more than positive you had the right time, and now you're nothing but annoyed at the small slip-up. "fuck, I could've sworn it was already past five when I left."

your arms crossed over your chest as a high pitched laugh left san, his hand coming down to slap the counter when he saw the glare you sent his way.

"well, you might want to get that watch checked out, babe." you wanted nothing more than to slap that smirk off his lips, jump over the counter and strangle the boy to death, but you knew he'd only watch as you struggled to do so.

just then, one of the rooms in the back swung open as someone walked out, another guy who you assumed to be a new artist here leaning against the door as he wiped some sweat off his forehead with the hem of his shirt.

woah, you thought, he's kinda cute. you couldn't help but bite your lip while watching as a small smile played on his lips, eyes fixed on his arms when they flexed while opening a door for the other guy to leave.

you watched as he strolled over to where you and san were, the leather pants he had on fitting his thighs too well, and the black shirt he had on leaving barely anything to the imagination.

his hair was messy, and you could tell he pushed it back a lot. just as that thought came to mind his hand came up to push the hair out of his eyes, and it's then that you saw the dark eyeshadow that he had on.

black eyeliner and eyeshadow, leather pants— he was the whole package, and you couldn't tell if it was him that was making it hot in here, or the lack of air conditioning-

all this time you didn't realize san was holding back more laughter as he watched you drool over the new employee, ushering him over secretly just to mess with you.

the smirk that painted san's face never left as the tall man walked over, eyes low and dark and it gave you the impression that he must've been tired. "oh hey, yunho, how'd your last session go?"

yunho, that was his name

yunho sighed as he craned his neck to the side while his hand rubbed the tense muscles harshly, "it went good, but god is my back being a pain today."

your eyes continued to drink in yunho's appearance, finding it hard to look away for more than a minute.

you couldn't help but notice the size difference between the two of you, and it was hard not to think about what other things could be even bigger.

"oh sorry, I should introduce you two," san said, walking to where you two of you were standing and his hands gesturing to both of you as he spoke. "y/n, yunho — yunho, y/n."

you weren't exactly sure how to respond to san's actions, but you just decided to go along with him and send an awkward nod yunho's way.

he smiled, well more specifically half smiled back to you, and you couldn't help but admire the tongue piercing that his tongue had. you'd always admired people with such a pain tolerance, never truly being able to handle things like that.

"nice to meet you, y/n." he said, being very discreet at checking you out while your eyes trained to the ground. he thought it was adorable when your ears reddened slightly, making it hard for him not to blush himself.

and as much as you wanted nothing more than to talk to the hot guy in front of you, you really needed to get this tattoo done before you had to leave for work later that night.

your hands shoved themselves into the pockets of your shorts, "oh, I forgot to tell you y/n," san started, "lucas just texted me saying he won't be able to make it today, and recommend you pick someone else to do the tattoo for you."

you couldn't help but roll your eyes in annoyance at his words, already mad at yourself for being early but now being more than pissed off.

and maybe it was because he'd later on tell you that the guy you'd been drooling over would substitute for your usual artist, leaving you a embarrassed mess the whole session.

but who knows

he was precise with everything, and you never would’ve thought watching someone handle something with such precisions could be so attractive. you could tell he took pride in what he did, and you knew you wouldn’t have to worry about a thing while being alone in this room with him.

though, you will admit that no matter how focused you were on the man in front of you, the pain of the needle poking your skin was far too much to distract you from where you currently were.

this wasn’t your first time getting a tattoo, so you weren’t quite sure why your nerves were shot, but you had a couple reasons that might explain why you were extra squeamish today.

yunho noticed the way you would tense up whenever he placed his empty hand on your knee to sturdy himself, and he couldn’t help but chuckle whenever your thighs closed together at his soft touches.

in fact, this whole time he’d been working on you he had to force his eyes back onto what he was working and tell himself repeatedly to keep everything professional, and not cross any lines.

he hated how he was acting, like some teenage boy who’d just discovered porn for the first time. his cheeks reddened as he saw you bite your bottom lip, thinking about how sweet you must be, and he wanted nothing more than to throw the tattoo machine across the room and spread your legs wide open while he takes you raw.

he knew it wasn’t just him thinking like this, and he smirked whenever you licked your lips when he moved a certain way, the veins on his arms becoming more prominent with every passing second.

“and.. done.” he said, placing the gun on the small table next to him before he grabbed one last wipe and slowly dragged it along your tattoo to get any access ink. he stood up hastily, taking his gloves off and rolling his wrist in circular motions.

in this moment, you didn’t care about the fresh moon that painted your skin, and more about how big he looked compared to where you sat, his chest barely fitting in his shirt. “it looks amazing, really.”

he turned around to face you, smiling and drying his hands with a paper towels. he stepped closer to you, steps short but long as he leaned down, “gotta throw this away, baby.” he said and tossed the paper into the bin right next to your legs.

you held your breath when he pulled back, your eyes locking with his while his breath fanned your face. his cologne was intoxicating, it was like you were floating, almost a euphoric feeling. “did you need anything else?”

maybe it was because of all the sexual tension that you pulled the collar of his shirt towards you and pressed your lips against his, but you couldn’t think about anything else but his taste.

he tasted like strawberries, and you think you remember him putting some strawberry chapstick on before he started your session. his lips were soft, felt like cushions against your own, and you let your tongue slide over his bottom lip before slowly pushing into his mouth.

yunho pulled away to catch his breath, "fuck, are you sure you want to do this? san's right outside and can hear us-"

he was adorable, you had to admit, the way his ears were burning and how he touched you hesitantly. but you wanted him to know that you were in this fully, so you wrapped your legs around him while slowly grounding into him so he could catch on.

you could feel his cock through his ripped jeans, and you loved the way it felt against your clit through the fabric of your underwear. "you're so big,"

it was like a wave came over him, sending a boost of confidence his way when you moaned into his mouth. "yeah?"

you hummed into him, fingers tugging the hair on the back of his neck. yunho's hands ran up and down your thighs before pulling away.

"I wanna feel those pretty lips around me, baby." he said, backing up against the counter in front of you. your eyes ran down from where his hands were undoing the buttons on his shirt, wide while slowly roaming the bulge over his pants.

once his shirt was open, his hands moved down to slowly grope himself while looking keeping eye contact with you. "what're you waiting for?"

never have you felt such heat rush through your body, the white underwear you had on had to be more than soaked through by now.

without any hesitation, you rushed to get on the ground infront of him, sliding your hands up his body and unbuttoning his pants while kissing his clothed thighs.

his fingers grabbed ahold of some of your hair, gliding through it and gripping it harshly. the view beneath him was too hot, and it was starting to get hard to grasp a full breath of air.

once you finally managed to pull his pants down, you placed your hands on either side of his underwear and pulled it down.

you don't think you've ever taken someone so big, let alone give head to something the size of your face. you gulped, licking your lips and giving a small lick to the head of his cock.

"f-fuck" he stuttered out, chest heaving as he watched you taste him. it was such a small touch, but just enough to have him begging for more.

slowly, one hand came to hold his length closer to your lips, and you licked a long stripe up the underside of him to test where he was most sensative.

and as you expected, once you reached he slit his hips buckled up into your mouth, forcing his head to slip past your lips. "just like that, so good."

it wasn't long before both his hands tangled in your hair while one of your own was on his thigh, pacing yourself with every harsh thrust he gave your mouth.

you could feel the way his cock twitched if you sucked harder, and you wanted nothing more than to have him cum in your mouth. but before he could, he pulled out completely and stuck his thumb in your mouth.

"no, baby, I wanna cum in your pussy before anything else."

you moaned around his finger, surprised when he pulled it out of your mouth and pulled you up by your chin, turning you around and bending you over the work table.

"I'm not gonna lie, y/n." he pulled your shorts down your legs, moving your panties to the side, "I knew I wanted to fuck you as soon as I saw these pretty shorts."

he stuck two fingers in his mouth, coating them with his spit and spreading your legs before sliding them over your pussy. "and when I saw the bow on your underwear? I fucking lost it."

you but your arm to keep any noises inside, not wanting anyone to walk in right now. "ah, please-"

he smirked, slowly pushing the digits in to make sure it wouldn't hurt. "god, you're so warm and wet."

you felt his fingers curl up inside you, and your back arched with anticipation. he was moving too slow for your liking, and you were starting to get impatient.

"yunho, please. I need you." you're not one to beg, but right now you're willing to do anything to feel him inside you.

"all you had to do was ask, love"

yunho pushed himself deep in you, and it took all the willpower in your body not to scream. "oh fuck,"

he groaned as you clenched around him, moving his hips when he felt your body ease into his touch.

your hands gripped the edge of the table under you, nails scraping the paint on the underside of it while it pounded into you from behind.

with every thrust he gave you, his hips slammed the backside of your thighs, making the room fill with sounds of slapping that only added to the lewdness of the situation.

you could feel all of him; the veins that ran on the underside of him, the tip of his cock whenever he'd graze that sweet spot inside of you, and the way his nails dug into your hips when your cunt squeezed him especially right.

"so good," yunho groaned, his head falling back when he caught a reflection of your face in the mirror infront of him.

your eyebrows were knit together, mouth wide open while silent please and begs left your mouth. and every now and then he caught a glimpse of your cleavage whenever your shirt bunched up at the top

you couldn't take it anymore, it was all too much. "g-gonna- gonna cum-!"

he couldn't help but chuckle at the whine you let out, "yeah? go ahead, cum all over my cock like the slut you are."

your eyes closed tight, back arching into the table and your whole lower half went numb as you came around him.

not being able to handle how hard you were clenching around him he gave your sensative body two more thrusts before pulling out and cumming all over your back.

you lay there in a daze, not paying attention to the shuffling behind you.

"maybe you did need something else, huh?"

[ ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ]

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ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

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@hanatiny , @multidreams-and-desires , @latte-fairytaekwoon , @vocalyunho , and @galaxteez

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ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ © ʏᴜɴʜᴏɪꜱᴇʏᴇᴄᴀɴᴅʏ. ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ.

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ.

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[shenonagons]

Day One: Head Wound (C3)

Read here on AO3

Summary: The slag glass might be keeping Ashton's brain on the inside, but it's also opened him up to the wonderful world of migraines. At least one of his new companions can sympathize...and sometimes it's okay to just let go and let someone else take care of you.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Ashton curled up a little tighter, arms over his head, as another of his loud...comrades? Fellow mercenaries? People he tolerated who weren't weird little automatons?...careened past his door with an unnecessary amount of noise. Part of him wanted to stumble to his feet and stick his head out the door and politely demand that they shut the fuck up, but that was out of the question for two very good reasons.

First, they probably weren't making that much noise to begin with, he was just hypersensitive right now.

Second, if he moved from his little huddle of misery he just might end up painting the floor and walls with the dregs of the little bit of food he'd managed to choke down during breakfast.

So he curled up tighter, definitely did notwhimper when Fearne went galloping past, and seriously considered praying to the gods (who were definitely taking bets on how long he'd last this time) for the blessed release of unconsciousness.

“Ashton?”

Oh, fuck, he was gonna have to answer now, wasn't he? Imogen was one of the few people he actively avoided upsetting, and not just because Laudna would peel a few layers off his skin if he tried (and he definitely wasn't up for that today...maybe some other time).

“Oh dear.” Too late. She was already in the room, closing the door behind her and picking her way across the floor toward his bed. “You poor thing...you're hurting so bad I could feel it down the hall.”

Fuck, fuck fuck. He hadn't considered that. Hadn't thought that their resident empath (or whatever) would be able to pick up on his little problems like this. Ashton peeled one arm away long enough to glare at her with his good eye. “M'fine.”

Too late. Again. Imogen was already kneeling up on the bed to rest one hand on the back of his neck. “I don't have much experience with earth Genasi,” she admitted after a few moments. “I can't tell if you're all locked up or if this is natural.”

Well. Nothing for it but to endure the attention. “Both,” he admitted with a groan, rolling over a little to look up at her. The room was blessedly dim around them, and Imogen's naturally soft voice wasn't quite making him want to pick up his hammer and knock himself out. Yet.

Imogen was chewing on her lower lip, eyes focused on a spot just above his shoulder. “I get these headaches sometimes,” she said, after a few moments of silence. “Anything bright or loud just feels like it's stabbing right through me. Sometimes it gets insideand it just...” she shuddered.

That sounded like it fucking sucked. He groped blindly for her hand and managed to catch her wrist, giving it a little squeeze of solidarity. As bad as his own migraines were, he couldn't imagine being barraged with other voices insidehis own head at the same time.

She shifted around until his head was resting on her lap and slowly traced the tips of her fingers through his crystalline hair. “I'm sorry I don't know how to help,” she whispered after a few moments.

“S'fine,” Ashton shrugged one shoulder and let his eyes slide closed. She smelled like fragrant wood with a hint of death (no doubt from sharing close quarters with Laudna). It was kind of...neutral. Not really a good scent, not something he'd be seeking out at every opportunity, just something...calm. Centering. Something he could focus on that wasn't too overpowering.

“Didn't get them until this,” he said eventually, dragging one hand up to gesture at the lump of glass that had replaced a good chunk of his skull. “Fucking sucks.”

“I bet. Oh!”

He cracked his eyes open enough to see her staring off into space again, this time with a smile on her face. “What is it?”

“Laudna says she found what she needed at the market, and she'll be back to make you some tea in a few minutes.”

He groaned and flopped one arm over his eyes. “Said I'm fine.”

“She makes it for me every time I have one of my headaches,” Imogen insisted, though she never raised her voice or took her hand away from his hair. “Tumeric and ginger and honey, plus some other stuff...it helps, Ashton, I promise.”

The thought of drinking anything made his stomach churn again, and he rolled onto his side so he could curl up a little. He realized, belatedly, that he'd rolled toward Imogen and now practically had his face buried in her stomach.

Oh well. She just shifted so his head was resting more comfortably on her legs and traced her fingers through his crystalline hair again. “Just try it? Just a few sips?”

Ashton reached out for her hand again, and she must've seen it coming as she laced her fingers through his and let him hold on through another wave of pain. They were moving furniture out there, or fighting it, or else Orym had finally snapped and was practicing wall-jumps in a pair of boots eight sizes too big. Whatever it was, something was banging into something else and every blow sent pain radiating out from the glass in his head and the slag in his arm.

“I've gotcha,” Imogen murmured. She curled around him until he could feel the ends of her hair trailing along the side of his face. It helped, at least a little bit. Like she was insulating him from the noise, wrapping him in that scent of incense and grave that was so comforting even though it probably shouldn't be.

“We'll take care of you, Ashton. It's gonna be all right.”

He could have argued. Could have told her he could take care of himself. But it felt fucking great to just curl up and let someone else do it. Just this once.