#I was so tempted to be an asshole and just reply with No!! and nothing else

[toadtoru]

GOOD LUCK BABE

when you wake up next to him in the middle of the night / with your head in your hands, you're nothing more than his wife / and when you think about me, all of those years ago / you're standing face to face with "i told you so"

pairing: shoko x fem!reader contents: angst, angst, angst, no curses au, reader is rich, reader is addressed with she/her pronouns, childhood friends to ???, no-curse au, some gojo x reader, alcohol consumption, smoking and weed wordcount: 4k

“Do you like him?”

You’re twenty-one the second time Shoko asks you this question. You’re out on the balcony, attempting to ignore the loud yelling and music being blasted from the small apartment behind you. You lean over the railing, looking down at the people below you. Shoko takes another drag of her cigarette. She glances back at the closed door behind you. She can easily catch the white blob of hair amongst the partygoers. 

“Of course I do! You’re all my best friends.” 

You both know that it’s not what Shoko means.

“Yeah, but do you like him?” Shoko repeats, and you pout when you realise that she’s not letting you off the hook. You send her a look while gently tapping your fingers against the railing. Shoko’s eyes follow the movement, trying not to glare at the diamond ring on your finger. 

You grew up different; Shoko knows that. Whereas she and Suguru grew up relatively normal, had parents who worked simple jobs and came home to cook dinner, you and Satoru were raised by maids and strict rules. She supposes this is the reason you’re so nonchalant about all this. Whereas Shoko as always had the choice, you never had. Still, it bothers her how willingly you let yourself be captured, how little you fight for the freedom to be your own person. She wishes she could shake you till you understood, but instead, she’s stuck here on this shitty balcony, hoping that you might answer her question truthfully for once. She takes another drag of her cigarette, inhaling deeply and hoping that you won’t notice how tense her shoulders are. 

“It doesn’t matter if I like him,” you say, shrugging. You glance over at Shoko, and something passes between you for a moment. Your eyes flicker to her lips, still wrapped around her cigarette. It’s barely a second before you’re making eye contact again. 

“I’m just happy my parents chose Gojo and not that asshole from Zenin Enterprises.” 

You’re twenty when you go to a bar for the first time. It’s your birthday, officially the last one to turn twenty out of the four of you. It’s the first time in six months that you managed to get together. After you graduated, Satoru immediately started working at his dad's company; you and Shoko started at separate universities; and Suguru… well, none of you really know what he’s doing. Shoko recalls him saying he has some kind of sales job that causes him to travel a lot. 

By this time, purple circles have settled under Shoko’s eyes, and cigarettes are a staple in her purse. In all honesty, she doesn’t want to be here. It’s a fancy place—more of a club than a bar, really. Satoru’s choice, of course. There’s no way that you picked this place. 

You look stunning. Dressed in a top and a mini skirt, you look both expensive and endlessly tempting. You’ve already drank some at your place, where you all started, and you’re pleasantly giggly, hanging on Satoru's arm. Shoko wishes you’d hang off her like that, but recently there’s been a weird divide between you. You’re hard to get a hold of. 

You catch her eyes and smile. “You look nice tonight, Sho,” you say, lips curling teasingly as you reach out to pull a piece of hair behind her ear. “Your hair has gotten longer,” you add with a hum. 

Shoko shrugs. Suguru and Satoru are talking about something that she’s not a part of, so she moves closer to you. “How have you been?” she asks casually, trying to act like she isn’t hanging off every word you say. 

“Come dance with me,” you reply, grabbing her hand and pulling her out on the dancefloor. Shoko follows you wordlessly. She’s never been much for dancing, but for you, she’ll make an exception. 

“I’m alright,” you say. “School is hard,” you add, and Shoko follows the way your body moves, easily falling into a rhythm with the music. She wonders why you couldn’t have this conversation at the bar, but in a way, she’s happy that she doesn’t have to share you with the boys for a while. Your fingers are intertwined as you both ignore everyone else on the crowded dance floor. It’s hot, and the music blasts from the speakers beside the DJ, all contributing to making Shoko feel dizzy. 

“What about you, Sho?” you ask, dancing closer. 

“School is hard,” she repeats after you, grinning when you roll your eyes. You dance for a little while longer, silence creating a distance between you. Shoko wonders why it’s like this all of a sudden. You used to always be close; the silence between you was never uncomfortable like this. 

“I miss you,” Shoko says. She doesn’t even know why she says it. These are the kinds of things Shoko feels in silence. She never shares them with other people. But for some reason, she can’t stand the thought of not being able to share it with you. You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. 

“I’m dating Satoru.” 

Cutting Shoko open with a scalpel would probably have hurt less. The music becomes white noise, the room feels small, and the air becomes hard to breathe. She looks towards the bar where Satoru’s talking with Suguru. As if on queue, Satoru looks up from his conversation to look at the two of you. He smiles at Shoko when their eyes meet. Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. Bastard. It’s always him, isn’t it? 

“I need a cigarette,” Shoko mumbles, walking towards the smoking area of the club. 

“Sho,” you say, following her as she makes her way through the dancefloor towards the doors with the smoking sign. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you say, and Shoko shakes her head as she pushes the door open and exits onto a small rooftop. The air is chilly, and there are several people already there, smoking and talking. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat as Shoko lights her cigarette and takes a long drag. “Will you at least look at me?”

She does. Soft, kind brown eyes locked on you. You’ve always revelled in Shoko’s attention. It made you feel special to be deserving of it, for a person who’s usually nonchalant and seemingly careless, that you were interesting enough. Even when she would tease you and push your buttons, you liked it.

You don’t like it right now.

“Why?” Shoko asks. Your brows knit together. 

“Shoko, I’m sorry if you’re mad–”’

“No. Why him?” Shoko interrupts. She takes another drag before blowing the smoke off to the side. You frown. 

“You promised you’d stop smoking,” you say, and Shoko laughs. 

“Is it your parents?” she asks, stepping closer. Smoke fills your lungs as she blows some onto your face. You turn to the side, but she grabs your chin and makes you look at her. “Is it you? Do you like him?” She asks. You frown. 

“Yes,” you reply, though it’s half-hearted and soft. 

“Speak up,” Shoko says, but you don’t. Your brows are furrowed, and there’s a little pout on your lips. Your hands come to tug on her shirt as if you’re beckoning her to come closer, but she doesn’t, not even bothering to look down at where you’re holding onto her. 

She feels an awful desire to kiss you, to show you what liking—no, loving—someone really is. She doesn’t fight it when she leans in, pressing your lips together. This kiss is much different from any kiss you’ve shared before. It’s meaner, more desperate. As if Shoko is trying to put every word she won’t speak into this moment, lips moving against lips. Your fingers move from her shirt up to her neck, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. 

Shoko tastes like smoke and the beer she took three sips off when you first arrived. It’s deprived; how good it all feels to let go. Then you part and you gasp for air for a few seconds before you step back, wiping your hands in your shirt and turning around, disappearing into the bar. 

You’re fifteen when you say the words that make Shoko take the first drag of a cigarette. You’re sitting on the floor in your room, watching some show that you begged her to see. Shoko can’t even remember which one it was, although it doesn’t matter all that much. You’re huddled close together, giggling whenever the main characters do something funny. Your eyes are on the screen, but Shoko can’t help but look at you. 

It’s dark out. She should’ve been home hours ago, but your parents aren’t home—they never are—and the maid left hours ago. 

“Have you ever kissed anyone, Sho?” you ask. Shoko blinks, turning to look at the TV again. A kiss scene is unfolding. Fairly innocent, she thinks. She looks back at you to find you already looking. Your faces are awfully close, only illuminated by the blue light from the show still going, though it’s all background noise at this point. 

“No,” Shoko replies bluntly. You smile, your cheeks heating up as you lean in closer. 

“Do you want to?” you ask. It’s innocent. You’re smiling, your eyes darting down to Shoko’s lips for a second before they’re back up. 

“I don’t know,” Shoko replies. Already at fourteen, she hates how she feels around you. There’s something disarming about you that makes Shoko lose all her cool and turn into a complete puddle of weird, awkward teenage mess. Her heart always seems to hammer in her chest, and her hands feel clammy. 

“We could try, you know,” you say. You’re so close now that Shoko can feel your breath on her lips, smell the fruit rolls you ate earlier. It’s so very you, so sweet. Blood roars in her ears, and she doesn’t say anything, afraid her voice might betray her. 

“For practice,” you add, and Shoko finds herself nodding along. For practice, sure. She ignores the gnawing feeling in her chest, the looming knowledge that she can never come back from this. Shoko has never been much interested in love or boys. She’s always opted for medical books and crime mysteries instead of chick flicks. Though with you, it’s always been different. You could rope her into watching The Notebook and Titanic as many times as you wanted if it meant Shoko got to spend time with you. 

“Is this okay?” you ask, placing your hand on Shoko’s cheek, and she nods again. “Yeah,” she replies, almost breathless. You’re so close now.

So so close. 

It’s innocent. There’s no tongue, no great big sparks. Yet Shoko feels electric. Your lips are soft. So soft. And despite how blunt you were just seconds ago, you feel shy now all of a sudden, pulling away with flushed cheeks and a sort of dazed look on your face. 

“Thank you,” is all you can think to say, and it makes Shoko snort at your reaction. This causes a giggle to be pulled from you as well, and you sit there for a while, just lingering in each other's presence, high on the experience of your first kiss together. It’s innocent, sweet. Shoko wishes she could bottle up the feelings you give her and save them from the rot she’s already feeling building up inside of her. 

She reaches for your cheek and pulls you in for a second kiss. You let her, getting braver this time. Your lips move against each other. It’s inexperienced and clumsy, but Shoko wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Then you whisper the god-forsaken words. 

“I wish you were a boy, Sho.” 

And Shoko feels the rot fester in her gut. 

“I should go,” she replies, stumbling out of your room and down the hall of your obscenely large house. She ignores your calls for her as she slips down through your kitchen.

She stops in her tracks when she notices the small packet on the counter. The maid must’ve left it, she thinks to herself as she picks it up and inspects it. Shoko and you have spied on her during enough smoke breaks to know. Two cigarettes left. She glances at the door. You haven’t followed her downstairs. She puts the box in her pocket and walks out your front door. 

How can two cigarettes hurt?

You’re twenty-three when you walk down the aisle in a beautiful white dress. Shoko watches from the fourth row, right next to Nanami. You and Satoru stand in front of the altar. Suguru sits on the front row with Satoru’s family. You hadn’t asked Shoko to sit with yours. 

The vows are formal. Clinical, almost. As though someone else wrote them for you, as though neither you nor Satoru actually feel the things you say. Nonetheless, you look blinding in your dress, even more blinding as you walk down the aisle and lock eyes with Shoko. 

She smiles at you. Purple rings have become more prominent under her eyes during the past few months. She’s told you they’re from late-night cramming and studying, and while that’s not technically untrue, there's another reason why she sleeps so badly as well. You smile back, and Shoko feels the green little thorn in her stomach reach just a little deeper. 

“Why are you looking all gloomy?” 

It’s playful. There’s no ill intent behind it. Satoru, as always, pretends to be unaware of anything that might start an uncomfortable conversation, instead resorting to acting like a fool. Shoko sighs. 

“Fuck off,” she says, though there’s no edge in her tone. She can’t ever really hate Satoru. No one can. That’s what's so annoying about him. Satoru walks forward and joins Shoko on the balcony from the venue of your wedding afterparty. Shoko doesn’t know where you are. Probably somewhere entertaining your guests, pretending that this is the happiest night of your life. 

Satoru eyes the cigarette between Shoko’s fingers as she takes another drag. 

“I thought you were quitting.”

“School’s been stressful.” 

“Ah,” Satoru nods, resting his arms on the railing and looking out over the city. It’s a peaceful night. The sky is clear, though you can’t see the stars due to the light of the city. Shoko exhales. 

“Are you doing alright, Shoko? You seem distant,” Satoru asks, eyes trained on the view in front of them. Shoko hums. 

“I’m alright,” 

They stand like that for a while, neither of them saying anything. Shoko wonders if she should just tell Satoru everything. About how she’s in love with his wife and has been for years. How she wakes up in the middle of the night, gasping for air and chasing dreams of you. You with your soft lips and pretty smile. You who never flinches away, you who remains the centre of Shoko’s world no matter how hard she tries to untangle herself from your web of love and praise.

She imagines it wouldn’t go down well. Even if Satoru has married you out of duty, she knows he still loves you. Maybe not as a wife, but as a companion. You’ve known each other for so long, known that you were promised to each other since you were mere children. 

“Ah, fuck, I better go save my wife.” 

The moment has passed. Shoko looks back towards the glass doors to the party. You’re stuck talking to some elders. Shoko doesn’t know who they are, but she assumes they’re from Gojo’s family. You glance towards the balcony. “Save me,” you mouth, and both Shoko and Satoru snort. 

“Duty calls,” he sings as he walks past Shoko. He looks back over his shoulder once. “Come back once you’ve finished that one, okay?”

You’re eighteen when you all huddle together on the floor in Suguru’s room, giggling and whispering about the joint that the boys somehow managed to secure. Suguru lights it and takes the first inhale. Satoru follows, cheeks immediately turning pink and a dopey smile settling on his lips as he passes it to Shoko. You watch Shoko curiously before she hands it to you. 

Carefully, you fold it between your two fingers, eyeing the little roll carefully. “How do I do it?” you ask, and Shoko snorts. Satoru is giggly already, lying down and putting his head in Suguru’s lap. Suguru looks mostly unaffected, yet he cracks a smile and pinches Satoru’s cheek. 

“You put it between your lips, and then you inhale. You gotta feel it all the way in your lungs,” Shoko explains. You try to do as she says, but when you exhale, barely any smoke comes out. Suguru chuckles. 

"Yeah, that was not an inhale,” he says, and you poke your tongue at him. Shoko moves closer to you, ignoring Suguru as she puts her hand on your thigh. 

“Try again,” she says, and you do, looking at her at the same time. Shoko smiles, and you choke, coughing out some as you feel tears prickling in your eyes. Shoko rubs a soothing hand along your thigh while Satoru laughs. You pat your chest, coughing furiously as tears run down your cheek and Shoko smiles at you. 

So cute. 

“C’mere,” she says, once your coughing has subsided. You pout at her, but move closer nevertheless, till you’re in her lap. The boys are quiet now, watching your exchange as Shoko puts a hand on your waist, taking the joint from your fingers with the other. 

“You ready?” she asks, and you nod wordlessly. Slowly, she inhales before leaning into you, blowing into your mouth. This time you inhale, puffing your chest out in a manner that makes Shoko grin. You exhale again, and Shoko pats your cheek rewardingly. 

“Good girl,” she mutters, and your jaw drops. Suguru coughs, and you can hear Satoru’s giggle increasing as you climb out of her lap and grab the joint again. Shoko smiles at you. The knowing kind that makes you want to bash your head into a wall. You ignore the heat in your cheeks as you peel your eyes away from her. 

“Okay, I can do it myself now, thank you,” you say, taking a big inhale. You hold it for a few seconds before exhaling again, white smoke leaving your lungs. 

“There you go,” Satoru says, flashing you his perfect white teeth. You frown and take another drag, for good measure, before Suguru takes the joint from you. 

“Woah, there,” he says, raising a brow at you. “This is your first time, right?”

“Yeah,” you reply, already feeling lightheaded. “So what?” 

“Might want to take it easy,” he says. You don't bother to reply, instead looking back at Shoko. She’s leaned back, resting on her elbows. She meets your gaze, tilting her head to the side. Taking you in. Examining you. You fiddle with your fingers in your lap, but you don’t break eye contact.

Then she nods at you. A tiny one, barely noticeable. You almost think you imagine it, if it isn’t for the teasing look in her eyes. 

An invitation. 

You don’t hesitate to take it, climbing over and promptly laying your head in her lap. Shoko laughs, but she lets you, adjusting herself so she can sit up and play with your hair. You hum, closing your eyes and wrapping your arms around her. You feel light, pleasant. 

“Someone’s feeling touchy,” Shoko says, smiling as she watches your brows knit together. She brings a finger down, running it over the crease formed between your eyebrows, forcing you to relax. 

“You’re my best friend, Sho.” Your voice is airy. “I’m allowed to feel touchy.”

You’re twenty when you kiss Shoko for the second time before slipping inside the crowded bar again. Shoko waits a few minutes before she follows you back in. She can still feel your pillowy lips and taste the gloss you wear. She feels dizzy, almost, under the neon lights, but she’s unsure if it’s the alcohol and nicotine or just you. 

Her eyes land on the table where she saw Satoru and Suguru earlier. The white blob of hair is easy to spot; it always is. Even when you’re running your fingers through them. 

Ah. 

Even when you run your fingers through Satoru’s hair while you kiss him stupid. His hands are on your hips, pulling you in. She can’t see your face, only your back. In a way, she’s glad. It makes the whole ordeal much easier. 

“There you are.” 

Suguru moves towards her, smiling casually when she turns to look at him. 

“I assume she’s told you?” he muses, nodding his head towards the two of you. Suguru’s hands are in his pockets, and his hair is tied back. Shoko shrugs. 

“Yeah,” Shoko says. She looks at you again before turning back to Suguru. “How long have you known?” she asks, and Suguru scratches his neck and hums. 

“About a month,” he says. Shoko shifts from one foot to another and nods. A month. A month and you didn’t tell her. She scoffs. Suguru raises a brow. 

“Are you upset?”

“No,”

“Alright,” there’s a teasing edge to Suguru’s tone that tells her he doesn’t quite believe her. Shoko’s brows narrow, and she feels her fingers itching for another cigarette. 

She gives you a last glance before pulling Suguru out with her for another cigarette. If you wanna kiss boys in bars, then so be it. 

You’re twenty-six when Shoko opens her door in the middle of the night and finds you on her doorstep, completely drenched from the rain. 

“I’m afraid there’s something rotten inside of me,” you say, and if your eyes weren’t brimming with tears, Shoko might have blamed your wet cheeks on the rain and tried to shrug it off, but it feels impossible with the way you stand there with red rims around your eyes. “I’m afraid that there’s something wrong with me, and it’s only a matter of time before you all figure it out,” you repeat, almost gasping for air as if each word brings you physical pain to speak. 

And Shoko steps aside, because what else can she do. How could she turn you away when you’re all she’s ever wanted, all she’s ever loved. Yet none of you make another move to do anything else as Shoko stands with the closed door behind her and you stand in the middle of her living room, your soaked clothes dripping in a puddle underneath you. 

“What’s going on?” Shoko asks. Your lips are downturned and your brows are furrowed, and you look so miserable that it makes Shoko’s stomach churn. 

“I don’t love him.” 

A beat. 

Shoko stares. Your eyes are trained on the puddle beneath you. 

“You were right. It doesn’t feel right when I’m with him. He’s my best friend, but—”

“Why are you here?” Shoko interrupts. She rubs the bridge of her nose, taking in a deep breath. 

“Sho-” you stumble across the room, but Shoko places a hand up and you stop in your tracks. 

“Stay there,” she says, and you frown. 

“I’m sorry, okay. I should’ve listened to you,” you say, knowing that it won’t help anything but saying it anyway.

Shoko always thought she would feel satisfaction in this moment. Some sense of superiority. To be able to say “I told you so” with a smile dancing on her lips. That all of it—all of the rot and pain—would be worth it once you realised you were wrong. Instead, she just feels bitter. 

“Yeah. You should have.” 

She realises she’s wasted so much time. Waiting, and waiting, and waiting. And for what? Shoko sighs. 

“You should leave.”

thank you for reading!

i'm satoru when i get high btw. very giggly, very happy, very in love with all of my friends.

tagging @madaqueue since you asked, my munchkin. <3

masterlist | divider by enchanthings

[beastofburdenxo]

Consider It Done

Tommy kidnaps his biggest enemy's daughter as payback. But, things aren't always what they seem.

Allusions of violence, mention of abuse, no smut.

You woke up in what looked like a dreary basement. Your throat was dry, and your head felt funny. All you remember is just walking down the street and having a wet rag being shoved over your face from behind. Assuming that it was chloroform, because you were knocked out immediately after that.

You hear a door being opened and someone walking down the stairs. For some reason, you dash into a dark corner, thinking that it was going to save you. An oil lamp is turned on, illuminating the space and the man before you. "There you are love, glad to see you up and alert." A cigarette is lit. "Would you like a smoke?" You ignore the question altogether and respond with one of your own. "Who are you? Where am I?"

"My name is Thomas shelby Love, but you can call me Tommy. I hate meeting like this. It's nothing personal, really, just business. Your father owes me money and isn't taking me seriously, so I did what I had to do."

Your eyes bug out at this information. Of course, your asshole father has made another enemy. And the feared Tommy shelby, the devil of small heath, at that. "And you think taking me will loosen him up? He'd rather die than give up anything of his. To him, people are replaceable, money not so much. I'm sorry that you put in so much work to get me, but honestly, he's probably glad I'm out of his hair."

"Is that right? What a shame that is." Tommy draws off his cigarette. "Such a pretty thing, kidnapped and taken to the devil's mansion, thrown in a basement never to be seen again. Surely he loves you more than that, dear."

"The man killed all of my pets when I refused to marry one of his gross friends. He has burned my clothes before, locked me out of the house. Trust me, Tommy, he doesn't care. He has never liked me and I don't know why."

"You are like a wild horse that can't be broken, and your father can't stand it. You won't bend to his will like most and from where I'm standing, it's like you are his enemy and not his daughter. I'd take it as a compliment. If he liked you, that would mean that you two are similar. I have no desire to harm you, I'll behave if you do. Give it a couple of days, and if he doesn't budge, you are free to go. I'll even give you money for a ticket anywhere you want to go."

You think for a moment. "So you don't want to hurt me? You'd rather help me out?"

Tommy nods, "I see a lot of myself in you. In fact, you promise to be good, I'll let you out of here and into the house. Take it as a mini vacation, time to think. If your father does pay up, you'll still get that ticket out if you'd like. Regardless of what he does or doesn't do, it won't affect you."

You reach for a cigarette, and Tommy obliges. "I can't just leave my mom alone with his ass. He's mean to her too, Tommy. He needs to pay for his sins sooner rather than later."

Tommy chuckles, "You'd make one hell of a peaky blinder. Fiesty and headstrong. Are you looking for a new job, perhaps?"

"Tommy, I'm serious," you reply, "I'd say my mom would give anything for him to be gone. If you took care if it, you'd get your money and then some. It would have to be discreet of course."

"Kidnap victim asking her kidnapper to put a hit out on her own father? That's a new one for me, love. It does sound tempting, I will say. Never had much use for an abusive wife beater."

You stand up with a new sense of purpose. "Either you do it, or when I get out, l will do it myself!"

Tommy comes towards you like he's going to grab you, but he stops himself from touching you. "No, I can't have that. There's no need for an innocent to have blood on her hands. If you aren't successful, he will kill you, love. He won't think twice about it."

Tommy finally reaches out and gently stokes your face, "I don't want the fire to go out of your pretty eyes. Killing a man does that to a person, and you don't deserve that. If you want it done, consider it done. Consider yourself a partner in this and not a helpless victim. My only wish is that once this is all over, I can see you again. With permission, this time, of course. Let me do things the right way. Dinner?"

"Kidnapper asking his victim to dinner once she is released? That's a new one for me Tommy."

You take the cigarette from his mouth, since yours is long gone, and take a drag as if to think about it.

"Consider it done."

[kanmom51]

Public service notice

Remember how I said I haven't blocked you just yet @chaotickoalacat ?

Well, got your reply ask, and let me tell you this:

I'm really tempted to do it right now.

I am not going to answer this ask, more so because I know how you will be literally crucified in the comments not only for the utter nonsense you are spewing but the way you are doing so.

I will address a couple of things you are saying though. Because seriously dude, I'm in utter shock as to how you are actually able to come up with this stuff.

You believe MHJ? Really?

You tell me that because she created NJ then her saying that Illit are copying her then that's it? It must be true? She also said that BTS copied her concepts in the past, that true too? You are aware of the fact that she is all about the visuals and has nothing to do with the music part of things, right? Just checking.

And in the same breath you are also full on acknowledging that she was the one behind the BTS leaks, including the damaging leak of JM's private info.

So, let me get this straight, you have no issue in believing a person that is untrustworthy and moved to hurt your fave, as long as it suits your current agenda? Seriously? I kind of think that once untrustworthy always untrustworthy. Or in your world is it once untrustworthy sometimes trust worthy as long as what's coming out of their mouth is what I want to hear?

Btw, you most definitley showed your true colours with the whole "JK's fling" idiocy. Prey tell me what does it say about JM, or more so, what does it say about what you think about JM if he sticks by JK's side while JK, in your warped mind, is an untrustworthy copy cat cheater? You must think so highly of JM for sticking by JK's side when JK treats him like shit (according to your warped views).

And let me make my views clear as day here. JK did not copy JM nor is JK an asshole cheater that can't keep his dick to himself. Balloon busted for you, I guess.

And yes, we are both BTS fans (or are we? cause you seem to be a solo stan and not a fan of BTS the band and all it's members), but clearly you lack the basic emotional intelligence that someone who is mature enough and with some life and long term relationship experience has. Either you are very young and inexperienced or for some reason lack that healthy relationship experience. Because thinking so low of JK and yet believing at the same time that JM would stick around someone like that, yeah, there is something lacking in your life experience. Maybe no experience, maybe bad experience, maybe too much Kdrama watching experience. Whichever it is, please, do not try and compare us.

There is NO comparison.

You say that you don't view JM as a damsel in distress, that he is a strong person, stronger than JK seeing how well he did in the army. Let me start by saying what a load of bull (not the him being strong part, but the part where you claim you aren't out to 'save' him). He's strong when it suits you, which is when you want to prove he's better than JK and/or the others (I'll get into how disgusting and disrespectful that comparison you are making is in a second). But at the same time he, supposedly in your fantasy world, allows JK and the company to step all over him, to copy his ideas and creativity and to scorn him and mess around with others, and continues to play along with their game, of showing up for JK, going on trips with him, enlisting with him even after he's supposedly, again, been mistreated, disrespected, cheated on. I would kind of suggest that you make up your mind which is it?

As for this constant comparison with the others when it comes to their army service, I've been vocal about this in the past and I will say it again. It sickens me how disrespectful you are towards not only the other BTS members, each and every one of them doing their utmost best within their army placement, but it's disrespectful towards every single other SK young man that is doing their compulsory military service. How easy it is sitting on your comfy chair in the safety of your own home or wherever it is you are sitting, which isn't an actual war zone, behind your screen and keyboard, grading these young men that have left their lives behind for 18 months to enlist into active duty in a military that is at war with another country. Please have more respect not only for every single one of the members (each serving at their utmost best within their assigned duties) but also for all the other young men that are doing just the same. JM is amazing, he's assigned duties are utilizing his high level of intelligence and mathematical abilities. Kudos to him for excelling at it. But why is it so hard for you to say that and at the same time say the same about each and every other member? Why is there this need not only to uplift one, but to do so at the expense of the other, diminishing what the other is doing? This whole attitude is just so childish and stupid. And you know what? Like I said, it's disrespectful not only to the other members and to every single other soldier, but also to JM, who doesn't need to bring down the others to show just how amazing he is.

This is it. Let me make this as clear as day that even if I end my sentences with a question mark, it's a rhetorical question and not an invitation for your response. I will not reply to any more asks you might throw my way. Obviously you are intrenched in your ideas and opinions, as warped and unhealthy as they may be.

Good luck trying to save JM from the one person he is showing us all that he wants to spend every second, every minute, every hour with.

And good luck with it all when Jikook Karma strikes, cause it's coming and it's coming strong, and when it does come well, all those that lack the respect to either JK or JM, those who are willfully closing their eyes and ears to what they have been showing and telling us for years now...

...the day is coming when it can no longer be ignored.

[obsessedwithhotmen]

⋆⁎✿ Bonnie ⇢ *- Words To Make You Swoon -* ⇠ Gold ✿⁎⋆

⇾ (Peaky Blinders) Bonnie Gold x reader

⇾ Summary: reader cleans Bonnie up after a boxing fight.

⇾ A/n: I love Jack Rowan, I’m so sad to find there’s no fanfic for his character Sam in Born to Kill, he did so good in that show. I’m tempted to write some, but it’s relatively old at this point, would anybody even read it?

⇾ Warnings: mentions of blood (its a fight, what more can you expect)

Bonnie was a man of many talents and he truly was unlike any other man you’d met. Most boys were assholes, only caring for themselves and their cocks, but Bonnie was different. He cared for you, loved you, he was truly the perfect partner.

There was nothing that you loved more than seeing that bright smile on his face whenever he won his fights.

So, you stood in the crowd of mainly men, hand cupped around you mouth as you cheered on your boyfriend during his fight, shouting as loud as you possibly could that you were certain your throat would be sore the next day.

You watched him duck under punches, narrowly avoiding some heavy hits, before returning a punch of his own occasionally. You were aware of the plan that him and his father had in order to gain more bets, he was drag the fight out into the later rounds, and make himself appear weak with not a lot of skill, but that was far from the truth.

You never like watching him get hit, even if he ended up being alright in the end, but as you watched him fall to the ground from a hard hit that his opponent got him with, you couldn’t help the fear you felt as you watched him lay face down on the ground, breathing heavily, when all of a sudden he slowly got up, gaze meeting yours as he winked in your direction.

You rolled your eyes, for once disliking the arrogant smirk on his lips when he stood to his feet, pretending to stagger around for a bit before he was deemed alright to continue the fight.

Luckily for you, the fight came to an end shortly after, and Bonnie with blood coating his cheeks had won the fight via knockout. You cheered happily, clapping loudly for your man who was paraded around the ring by some of the men.

Before the room could get to crowded by the rowdy men, you slipped out silently and made your way to Bonnie’s changing room, wanting to avoid whatever fights would follow from the men that lost their bets.

It wasn’t long after that Bonnie and his father Aberama were returning to the changing room as well, Aberama sending Bonnie in alone once he noticed your presence.

“What did ya’ think?” Bonnie asked, walking up to you and standing in front of you.

“I thought you actually got hurt.” You replied, grabbing his towel and wiping away some of the blood from his face. “You scared me.” You admitted.

Bonnie’s hand met yours, caressing your hand with his thumb. “Nothing to be worried about. I always win.” He reassured you a smug smile on his face.

You scoffed, shaking your head at him but not being able to contain the smile that showed. “You were great though. Very entertaining.” You answered his prior question.

“Just entertaining?”

“Entertaining, hot…” you trailed off, hand sliding down to his bicep. “But also very bloody, now sit down and let me take care of you.” You urged him to sit down on the seat so you wipe away the rest of the blood.

“I’m only bloody because I kept getting distracted. I didn’t know you were wearing that tonight.” He said, his hands staying on your waist and pulling you close to him, holding you as you used water to wash away the blood.

“Then maybe I shouldn’t come to your fights then, if this is the result.” You suggested, knowing that he would disagree with you on that.

“But then who am I meant to show off to?” He smiled.

You sighed dramatically, running a hand through his damp hit. “Your father? The people your meant to be showing off to?” You listed off.

“I only care for your opinion.”

Bonnie’s words could never failed to make you swoon.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

[odetodilfs]

Something to eat

Pairing: sub bottom!Javi Gutierrez x Dom top!male!reader

CWs: Smut, ass eating (reader giving), Oral Sex, summing inside, hands free orgasm.

A/N: Ok yeah sorry about taking so long and just not posting, I've been going through stressful times and just not been feeling in the mood for writing.

You were laying in bed after an absolutely exhausting day at work, and the fact that the day was so sticky and humid just really didn’t help. It was clear Javi noticed so he placed a cold, icy glass of water next to you and smiling at you, “My poor little baby” he said slightly sarcastically as he played with your hair and laid down next to you. You enjoyed and savored the feeling of his beautiful hands across your hair, massaging your scalp and making you feel so relaxed. As the tiredness went away… horniness came, it had been over a month since you and Javi had done anything, you were desperate to have sex, or literally anything, and the way Javi had legs nicely spread with nothing but a bathing suit underneath made it very tempting. He had fallen asleep, he had turned on his stomach, making his cute ass stick out and you were certainly getting some thoughts… 

An idea popped onto your mind… What if you wake him up as a surprise? You went in and started to take off his pants slowly. But Javi’s senses were still on high alert despite his sleep, so he instantly woke up, “What are you doing?” his sweet voice asked,

“I uh…” you started, Javi chuckled

“It’s fine,” he said, “do you want anything to eat?” he asked you, you didn’t notice any suggestive manners in the way he said it so you assumed he meant food. But again, his ass looked so delicious that it was hard to not say what you wanted. “Well, I’d like to eat you right now” you flirted, Javi was taken aback but wasn’t against the idea…

Javi turned himself 180 degrees and was now laying on his back, “Cariño, are you sure-” but you just couldn’t hold back at that point, “Yes I’m very fucking sure” you replied as you pulled down his pants and exposed that tight hole he had. You instantly went in and licked it all over, “Mmmm” you moaned as you savored the sweet, musky taste of his ass again after weeks of not having it, Javi covered his mouth as he stopped a yelp of pleasure from coming out. You were infatuated with his asshole, licking the tight ring and even going ever so slightly inside of him which made him mewl. When you started jerking off his cock he couldn’t hold back the loud moans of pleasure anymore and even moaned your name out on some occasions.

Javi’s ass was just the best meal you could ever ask for, the way it tasted so fucking good, the way his hole contracted in the shouts of pleasure made you decide it was also time to start using your fingers. But you didn’t want to ruin Javi’s taste just yet, so you sucked on your fingers for a while, using your other hand on his cock to not have him begging too much, but he was desperate for your tongue again. When your fingers were lubed enough you slipped your index into his ass and he moaned as it passed his prostate, his moans were shamelessly loud. The way his salty precum tasted melted into your mouth in such a way as you fingered him, the way his tight walls clenched around your fingers only imagined how much better they would feel on your cock. 

You fingered him some more and then went back to eating him out, this time like a starved man as you couldn’t see anything, suffocated by his ass cheeks. But the lube had made the appeal go away slightly so you decided to lube up your dick. The good thing was he was already loosened up from your fingers and tongue, so your cock slid in quite easily, his moan being extremely loud when you first went inside him. “Shh, it’s okay my love,” you whispered reassuringly, “C-cariño-” he moaned as you started to make your first few movements. 

Your dick felt like it was being stroked by clouds, his smooth walls clenched just with the right amount of pleasure and his breathy moans made you even hornier. Javi’s prostate is extremely sensible, you’ve noticed that across the many times you’d fucked him and as soon as you hit it he whimpers, especially as you speed up your pace. This is how you like Javi, legs open for you, giving his hole to you and having him moaning, it was heaven. Your thrusts turn into pounding as he’s screaming by now and he brings a hand to his cock to speed up his orgasm, you slap it away, “No Javi, you’re cumming hands free” you said, “But-” he uttered a weak protest that soon vanished as you only pounded him harder. 

A few minutes later, you felt Javi clench real hard on your cock and scream your name out loud and a wet, sticky substance covered your stomach, he whined in pleasure even after. This sight was enough for you, you screamed, “J-Javi-” you filled him up, you stayed there, breathing, recovering in absolute bliss, “I needed that” you said “I’m glad I can give it to you mi amor” he smiled as he went in and kissed you, you pulled out, your cum leaked from his hole slightly, “Let me just…” you said as you lifted him in your arms and carried him bridal style to the bathtub, you smiled at each other the whole way through.

[detachedminxsfics]

Spit

Read Part II

Characters: Negan x Alexandrian F!Reader, Maggie, Gabriel, Elijah

Summary: Negan and you were split from the rest of the group, and when he decides the mission is a lost cause, a fight ensues. Set in the events of S11 E5.

Word Count: 3.5K+

Warnings: NSFW - Rough vaginal sex, spitting, mild choking, very mild blood play, hate fuck, dom Negan, mortal enemies, humiliation, xtra DILFy S11 Negan, filthiest shit I've ever written tbh

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this, I needed to write some Negan angst. And I'm tempted to write a part two? 😫

Negan trailed behind you as you pushed open the door to the place you knew the group would attempt to regroup at, your gun raised vigilantly in order to scan your surroundings. When you saw nothing of concern you slipped your pistol back into your holster, settling down a little knowing you'd have to spend a considerable amount of time here. Until the sound of a familiar voice put tension in the air.

"So, what? We hang around here with our fingers up our asses just hoping that the others are alive, letting those assholes catch up to us?" Negan broke the silence, and you already hoped he had never said anything in the first place.

You, Negan, Maggie, Alden, Gabriel, Daryl and whoever else may be left had been split, and unfortunately, you ended up with Negan. You'd ended up taking the same cover in a fire fight, and he pulled you with him when the two of you made a run for it.

"I'm not abandoning my friends, but I wouldn't expect you to understand that." You bit back, glaring at him with cold narrowed eyes.

Alike Maggie, you'd never really forgiven Negan for what he did that one dark night, taking two of your family like that. Abraham and Glenn were good men, more than that, and they didn't deserve to be put down in that way. It made you sick to have to visually reflect upon it, so much of that night was a blur, yet vivid in the worst of parts.

"You know what, yeah, I don't. We've got some supplies, and we don't even know if the others are alive, why not take the win now? Get ahead of those shitdicks, and not wait around here to die like sitting ducks for people that are probably already dead."

What was left of your patience thinned out and crumbled, for it was never really all that durable when it came to Negan anyway.

"Just shut up! Fuck you, Negan. They're alive, and they'll be coming here, and we're gonna wait for them whether you like it or not. So sit, down." The venom in your words couldn't be anymore potent, clear as day as you snapped and raised your voice at him.

You caught him clenching his jaw, suppressing the urge to turn this into a screaming match, and it fell silent again. Having figured the matter had been resolved or somewhat stifled you headed over to your bag and sifted through your things, making sure you still had all of your belongings, until you heard shuffling. When you looked up to investigate the source of the sound Negan was packing, gathering his bags and some of the supplies that we'd scavenged. Things people had risked and lost their lives for.

"What do you think you're doing?" You began to interrogate him, approaching him to stand with your arms crossed against your chest completely stand-offish.

"I'm leaving." He answered bluntly, a short response meant to minimise your frustration, but it only worsened.

"Not with those supplies." You reaffirmed just as bluntly, leading Negan to sigh in response.

"I'm taking 'em back to Alexandria." Negan replied plainly, every offhanded response from him fuelling the fire of your rage more and more.

"You don't just get to cop out like this, there are responsibilities. This mission isn't over."

There was no guarantee that those supplies would make it back to Alexandria in his hands, and you wouldn't let his self-pitiful attitude go unnoticed.

"It is for me."

For him, for him? It was always about what Negan needed, what Negan wanted. What about what your people wanted, what Alexandria needs? His selfish tendencies were the final step in urging you over breaking point, and so you succumbed to your irritation, albeit in a very high school way. You snatched the handle of the bag he was holding from his hand and tossed it aside, giving him a hard shove that sent him stumbling back a few steps. He responded rather hastily by seizing your forearms, attempting to dissuade you from attacking him any further. You only thrashed against his grip, grunting your frustration inbetween your attempts to pull your arms from his hold. With all the momentum the two of you began to turn, heading in an entirely different direction as Negan furrowed his brows and attempted to snap you of it.

"Stop it!" Negan belted out, his gravelly voice booming from having raised his voice at you.

It didn't deter you though, and you continued to struggle until you eventually freed yourself, slamming your hands hard against his chest and leaving him attempting to find balanced footing again. With the force of that final push a space had formed between the two of you, both of you cautious as to whether one or the other would be the first to close it, to continue fighting one another. But you did neither, just stared at one another. That dark look in his eye was swirling again, a murderous stare that you knew all too well, and you were sure you were doing the same. You were panting from loss of breath due to how much energy you had just expended, but Negan stood untempered. Negan was the first to move, beginning a slow approach that had you stepping back from him further and further. Though he moved in small steps distance was closing fast, and you felt the internal panic when you felt a hard solid wall press up against your back, having backed yourself into the hypothetical corner.

"Shit." You muttered quietly, Negan taking his final few steps until he was directly opposite you, your chest practically pressed against his. He said nothing, and his stare remained unintelligible, simply looming over you without one word.

"Fuck you." Unashamed you made one last dig at him, and alarmingly enough, Negan smiled at you.

"If it'd shut you up for good, happily." He spoke lowly, his husky words right by your ear.

The response from him so sincere and unabashed you could feel your blood boiling, and you settled with the first thing that came to mind. Gathering some of the saliva in your mouth you parted your lips slightly and then quickly closed them, spitting right in his face. He groaned as he felt the wetness hit his cheek, reaching up and wiping his face dry with the back of his fingerless gloves, never once breaking eye contact with you. To your misfortune the saliva you'd kindly deposited onto his face was not enough to humiliate him entirely, but had some of the desired effect you had wanted. Negan looked riled, though he had tried to remain complacent the faint squint of his eyes gave him away, and the subtle clench to his jaw as he stared you down. Wordlessly, he flattened his palms against the wall either side of your head, entrapping you in the position you'd incidentally put yourself in.

"Open your mouth." Negan demanded bitterly, and you felt your cheeks fill with heat, utterly stupefied by what he had just asked you to do.

"Hell no." You bit back, earning a dangerous warning stare from Negan.

"Open your damn mouth."

You stared at him firm in your decision not to, and he waited a few moments before realising you wouldn't budge, and decided to handle you accordingly. With unanticipated rapid movements one of the palms Negan had flattened against the wall he'd snatched back and used to grip your jaw, applying pressure at the sides so hard and in such a way it began to force your mouth open. Forcibly Negan parted your lips, and you whined against his pressurised touch, restrained into anticipating his next move. Gathering the fluids best he could Negan brought all of his spit to the front of his tongue and leaned in enough to the point where he knew it would land on your tongue, spitting hard into your open mouth. You coughed a little from the shock of Negan's spit flying into your mouth, some of it escaping down your throat, only earning an approving chuckle from him.

"You liked that, didn't you, me spitting in your pretty little mouth? Be honest with me, I'll know if you're not."

The fact that Negan had recognised the shift in your expression before you even knew yourself startled you, like he could see through any deception or emotions you may have. Disturbingly enough, you'd enjoyed it to some extent. Maybe it was just the adrenaline from having taken out some of your frustrations on him, and spitting in his face after telling him to go fuck himself, but other feelings had began to surface. Urges that you couldn't quite distinguish.

"In your dreams." You remonstrated, not quite as firmly as you had hoped when you sounded it out in your head.

Negan grinned in response to your obvious dismay of the way that being manhandled by him made you feel, coming to terms with his own enjoyment of treating you like this.

"Oh don't worry, you're a goddamn nightmare."

Negan slammed his lips against yours, and it was like a floodgate had been opened, emotions and chemical reactions amongst other things consuming you entirely. You moved your lips back against his, attempting to keep up with the roughness. His stubble skimmed across your skin as you decided to nip his lip a little, drawing blood and causing him to groan into your mouth.

"Shit, should've known you'd be a freaky one." Negan commented as he swiped his thumb across his lip, gathering some of the blood there and smearing it across your own.

You kissed again, a hard and rough movement of one another's mouths, smearing his blood across both of your lips. In hungry movements Negan began to gather the fabric of your shirt in his hands, putting adequate tension on the material before yanking it hard. You gasped as you felt cool air hit your skin, he'd ripped your damn shirt open, the buttons flying onto the ground beneath you and pinging against the wood floor to reveal your tight fitting tank top underneath.

"Negan!" You exasperated, swatting him on the arm from the shock of what he had done.

He only snickered from having exposed you in such a way, closing his hand around the wrist of the hand you'd used to swat him with a firm grip and slamming it back against the wall, your knuckles faintly stinging from the impact of the collision.

"Oh c'mon, you can have mine." Negan suggested, not giving you time to respond as you felt his lips again.

Negan's fingers hooked in the hem of your tank top and began to hike the fabric up, pulling back momentarily only to help yank the top over your head. He threw it carelessly onto the floor, and you decided to return the favour. Unlike him, you unbuttoned his wrinkled blue shirt from bottom to top. Meticulously sliding your fingers beneath the material at the top of his shoulders and pushing it down his arms. The moment his shirt had gathered at his wrists you reached around and pulled from the back, tossing it into an area somewhere around yours. The moments to come were spent removing your clothes as fast as you could, a desire brewing deep within your body, a vile way to feel for him. It made you sick. With your panties dangling loosely around one of your ankles, your tank top hiked up your chest just enough to expose your breasts, Negan hoisted you up. He'd discarded the light grey tshirt he wore beneath his blue one, chest now bare to expose his generously hairy chest and the beaded necklace hanging just below his collarbone. With hands gripping the skin beneath your thighs he wedged himself in the space between them, using the way he'd mushed you between the wall and himself to support you whilst he worked at the zipper of his jeans, pushing it down until it came slack at his calves. He was left in nothing but boxers.

"I've always wondered what you looked like beneath those clothes, and your body is smokin'." Negan knew that subtle tease would piss you off, and you responded by glaring at him, wrapping your arms around his neck for support.

"Don't speak, at least not right now, just fuck me. Hopefully you can prove useful for once." You rebuked, and Negan raised his brows to feign offense.

"Ohh is that so? We'll see about that."

During your back and forth snapping he'd pushed his boxers down and lined himself up with you, slamming upward without warning. His hands returned to the underside of your thighs whilst you cried out in pain, him not even bothering to ease you into it. He didn't wait for you to adjust either, moving his hips as he groaned from the feeling of being inside you. The pain eased off rather fluidly, and you were left with the most reprehensible satisfaction. Negan ground into you, totally unbridled thrusts that had you whining so pathetically you were sure you'd attract a horde, or be heard for miles.

"That's what I fucking thought, do you like this baby? You like being used huh?"

Overwhelmed with your conflicting feelings for him you unwrapped one of your arms from his neck and slapped him, a harsh hit that had Negan grumbling from the sharp pain in his cheek. He groaned and took one of his hands from your thigh, placing it on your throat with the faintest pressure, it was more an injunction.

"Keep your hands to yourself or I'll tie 'em, do you want me to stop?"

You were quick to admonish him from stopping, a hint of desperation in your tone that had you realise you were damn near begging him not to.

"No no, Negan don't stop. Please..."

He grinned at your plead, his half lidded eyes haughty with arrogance. He'd leaned forward now, his forehead tipped against yours whilst his hand remained around your throat, noses brushing as you exchanged air panting hot breath into one another's mouths. This was filthy, sinful even. The dirty feeling of being so full, full of him, the pleasure he filled you with subduing you into this breathy mess. You couldn't think about anything other than his hard and fast thrusts, your hips connecting with every unconstrained movement. The group could return at any moment, walk in on Negan bottoming you out against the wall of an abandoned house, but you weren't entirely sure either of you cared. To finally give each other something worth giving, to put all the burning hatred and distaste you had for one another to use was addicting. Intoxicating.

"Holy shit." You fell into a string of curses, your one way of vocalising the feeling of knotting in your abdomen, trembles working their way through your legs.

Fuelled by your approaching release you moved your hands down from the nape of his neck to the back of his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin and clawing your way down his back making Negan grit his teeth. Negan was agonisingly close too, his face buried in the crook of your neck and occasionally sucking marks into the skin there. When he knew he was about to tip you over the edge he moved his head back, his face coming back to lie in front of yours again. Strands of hair had fallen from his impromptu slick, cascading over his sweat beaded skin and leaving him totally disheveled. Knowing that you caused this, made him look like that was a confidence boost to say the least, and it only helped to fuel your impending orgasm. Frantically the hand he'd left resting against your throat moved up to hold your jaw, less harshly than he had before, but firm. He was holding your head to leave you with no choice but to face him directly, meeting his eye with the utmost devout attention.

"That's it baby, I wanna see you, I want to remember how you looked when I gave you the best fucking of your life." He murmured, mesmerised by the look of pleasure etched across your features.

Unsurprisingly you came undone, wholly ruined as one of the most intense orgasms you had ever felt ripped through you. Your mewls filled the room, and you squeezed your eyes shut, head aching to tip back but unable to due to his touch. He watched with unashamed inclination, basking in it as he reached his own release. With appropriate haste he removed himself from you and emptied his release onto the floor, coarse groans joining your own faded whimpers. Subsequently riding out both of your vehement highs you remained holding one another. Your legs wrapped loosely around his waist and your hair messy, the rise and fall of your chest as your breathing stabilised becoming gradually softer. Your head was resting against his chest, and he started running his fingers through your hair, wordlessly sharing this earnest moment with one another. Every part of you still hated him, wanted to hurt him for all the pain he'd caused you and the people you cared for, but you could see through your own blinding hatred for the first time in years. The feeling was only temporary, but you savored it for what you could. To be at peace.

"We need to get dressed, can you help me?" You were faintly embarrassed to ask, but your legs were still too shaky to stand on unsupported, and the adrenaline hadn't subsided much either.

"Alright." He whispered, planting a meek kiss at the top of your head.

Neither of you thought too much of it, and Negan helped you dress presentable again. He rolled your tank top down your body and helped slip his blue shirt on you, buttoning a few of the buttons and practically resembling the way he usually wore it. Then he guided your panties back up your legs and hauled your jeans up past your thighs, your palms resting against his shoulders as he bent down to assist you in order to allow you the support you needed to maintain balance. By time he'd helped you dress you were feeling a little better, doing your best to ignore the sure soreness you'd feel in your crotch soon enough. Negan pulled his pants and boxers up from his ankles, pulling his grey tee over his head and dusting off any dust and residue it'd gathered from the floor. His arms were exposed now, but it'd have to do until you found something else for you to cover up with. He was the one who caused this issue in the first place, so rightly he paid the consequences. Now fully dressed you stood opposite one another, gazing in an untold way that only the two of you would ever know the reason behind, and the door opened. Startled you turned to watch the door and had your hand readied over your pistol, Negan too readily raising his crowbar. Relieved both of you lowered your weapons and wary demeanours when Maggie and Elijah supporting a worse for wear Gabriel walked through the door, and you sighed, a smile spreading across your face. You hurried over and threw your arms around Maggie, which she more than happily returned.

"You made it." Maggie leaned back to get a good look at you, sharing a moment with you whilst Gabriel closed the door behind them.

When she noticed the change of shirt, most noticeably the fact that you were wearing Negan's, she glanced over at him, looking back and forth between the two of you.

"What the hell happened to you two?" Maggie exclaimed, both intrigued and concerned.

You opened your mouth to speak and stumbled over your words a little, causing Negan to chime in.

"One of those reaper assholes got the jump on her, and her shirt got messed up. I gave her mine." Negan explained from the other side of the room, the two of you exchanging glances as you silently thanked him for his excuse.

It wasn't a total lie, but he had bent the truth, that was for sure. There had been a tussle with a reaper in question, but you won it indefinitely, and you took cover as a gunshot flew past your head just afterwards. That's when your paths had crossed. Maggie nodded and held your face in her hands, your eyebrow and cheek had gotten busted, and Negan was worse for wear too. You supposed a rough fuck after the chaos you and Negan had gotten out of wasn't the brightest idea, your bones achy and brittle now.

"Let's rest up a little, gather our strength." She suggested and you nodded in agreement.

Maggie went on to explain to you the both fates and unknown whereabouts of the others scattered in the surrounding area, and how those presumably alive were still out there. And so you spoke simply, a sincere suggestion that you were sure everybody but Negan shared a desire to uphold.

"So we wait."

You briefly turned to look at Negan, and you could see how his eyes were faintly narrowed with his disapproval of the idea, but you could care less. And he knew you did too. You were back at each other's throats again, and you couldn't have loved it more.

[sidekick-hero]

Emotional Motion Sickness

Written by @sidekick-hero Art by: @arimakes Written for the @strangerthingsreversebigbang

While he's lost in thought, absentmindedly sipping his beer, he doesn't notice someone sitting next to him.

"You look like you're about to ride into battle, soldier."

Steve whips his head around at the sound of a deep voice on his left and finds a man sitting on the bar stool next to him. His tone is teasing, but not in a mean way, just curious, and he wears a friendly smile on his full lips that matches his tone, while mischief dances in his dark brown eyes.

The man is beautiful and the realization takes all the words out of him, leaving him unable to do anything but stare at him with wide eyes.

When the silence stretches like a big cat after a nap in the sun, the guy clears his throat and says, "Sorry, man, didn't mean to offend you or anything."

"You didn't," Steve replies, his voice embarrassingly breathless. At least he found his ability to speak again. "I was just surprised, is all. A little lost in thought." He tries to smile himself, while his brain is still doing its best to get back on track.

"Yeah, you sure looked it. You were staring at Big John over there like you forgot your safeword and he was about to whip you." The man chuckles, and Steve realizes with horror that he's been staring at people who were just trying to have a good time, like he was some kind of weirdo. Or worse, like his father. Like a judgmental asshole.

He hastily throws up his hands and tries to explain himself. "I wasn't judging or anything, I swear. It's just... I didn't... My friend sent me here and I wasn't expecting..." Steve groans and buries his head in his hands, annoyed with himself. He sounds like an idiot, but everything he can think of to say sounds wrong to him.

A warm hand rests on his forearm. It's unexpectedly comforting.

"Hey, don't hide that pretty face. Kink Night can be a little overwhelming, especially for a newbie, there's nothing to be embarrassed about now."

Peeking through his fingers and earning a dimpled smile at the gesture, Steve asks, "Kink Night? I thought it was," and here he takes his hands off his face to put air quotes around the words, ‘Alternative Lifestyle Night?’

It feels like a stupid thing to say, but Steve is glad he said it anyway, because the man throws his head back and laughs in delight. It gives Steve a chance to look at him closer without getting caught staring again.

The longer Steve looks at the other man, the more beautiful he finds him to be. In addition to his warm chocolate eyes and wickedly full lips, he has a really cute nose, round and distinctive. His skin is paler than Steve's, with a slight stubble and a jaw that Steve wants to bite. The dark curls that spill over his leather-clad shoulders look soft and Steve thinks how perfect they would be to bury his hands in and hold on to as he licks into the man's tempting mouth.

Well, if nothing comes out of tonight, at least he leaves with some new food for his jerk-off fantasies.

As his laughter slowly subsides, the man looks back at Steve, his mouth still smiling and his dimples still teasing. "Sorry, you just looked so cute with your air quotes and all. I told Tom that ‘Alternative Lifestyle Night’ was a stupid name because what does it even mean, y'know, but nobody ever listens to my genius. It's a curse I must bear with grace and dignity."

Read the rest on AO3

[putaposyinyourhair]

Slowly but Also Like All at Once

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

noah diaz x mirage (they’re… y’know 💅)

warnings: mirage keeps flirting like an asshole and noah’s still in his feels but it gets tender

arcee shows up (and you know she should come with her own caution label)

“So, um…” Noah pauses for a second, to think on his words before he says them aloud. “You look good.”

He physically flinches away from his own words— from his own stupidity— and squeezes his eyes shut, not able to stop himself from reaching up with both hands to dig his knuckles into his eye sockets.

Fuckin’ idiot.

But Mirage just chuckles at his expense and Noah forces the embarrassment away with a deep breath.

“I meant like— you look… new,” he tries to correct, even though it still sounds wrong. “How’d that happen?”

“Oh, you mean how’d they get humpty dumpty back together again?” Mirage drawls.

Noah shifts in the sand, pulling away from Mirage’s side— where he’s been resting for a while now— and turns to sit cross-legged in the sand, staring up at the bot.

Mirage is looking up at the sky. The stars are starting to disappear behind dark clouds but the moon is still shining brightly over the water, its light reflecting off of Mirage’s silver face plating.

“Yeah,” Noah alludes, curiously.

Mirage glances down at him, frowning softly for a moment— such a quick little moment that Noah barely catches it— before he shrugs.

“OP spent like ten weeks in the Mojave looking for one of our medics who crash-landed there,” the mech reveals. “Ratchet. Dude’s usually such a buzzkill but… he’s good at what he does. I’ll give him that.”

Noah’s brows arch.

A medic? A new autobot?

“How many of you are there?” he asks before he can stop himself. “On Earth, I mean.”

One side of Mirage’s mouth tugs up into a sly smirk and Noah rolls his eyes before the bot can even reply.

“I told you already, boo, there’s none like me,” he declares pompously.

Noah reaches out and attempts to shove at Mirage’s thigh guard, uselessly because it does absolutely nothing.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Noah tells him. “You’re one of a kind.”

Mirage sits up, grinning.

“You better recognize!”

Noah barks out a short laugh.

“You a one of a kind dumbass,” he snickers softly.

Mirage reaches out to poke at his chest playfully and Noah tries to bat the digit away fruitlessly.

“Yeah, but you missed me,” the mech teases. “You already admitted it. No take backs.”

Noah doesn’t know why the words pull such a visceral reaction out of him, but they do. The happy smile drops from his face and he swallows drily.

“I did, man,” he concedes, fisting the material of his jeans in his hands. “I really fuckin’ did.”

Mirage moves so fast, it almost scares the shit out of Noah. The mech reaches out and suddenly Noah finds himself settled on top of the bot’s lap, pressed against his chest plates with one of Mirage’s servos cradling his back— well, the backpack strapped to his back anyway— whilst the other gently presses Noah’s face into the junction between his helm and his shoulderpad.

They’re… hugging?

Noah feels kind of frozen solid for a minute, unsure of what to do in this strange new situation. Sure, he’s been… inside— for lack of a better word— of Mirage before, in different modes of him too. And Noah doesn’t think either of them are strangers to physical proximity, after all they’d stuck pretty close to each other the whole time in Peru.

But this is something else. Something… more.

It’s nice though. Really nice.

So he relaxes into it.

It’s warm. And he can feel that same hum emanating from underneath the bot’s plating, like a low-frequency vibration that seems to soothe and calm something deep inside of Noah— he’s almost tempted to call it his soul, as corny as that fucking sounds.

Noah’s face feels more heated than usual.

“You a hugger, huh?” he mumbles, reaching up to run a few fingers against the glossy metal edge of that baseball cap-esque piece that rounds the back of Mirage’s helm.

This close, Mirage smells faintly of motor oil and something else Noah suspects must be alien in origin because he decides there’s no earthly scent he can compare it to. Not any that do it justice anyway.

Mirage’s digits move against the back of his head, digging into his curls as the mech’s chest plate’s rise and fall with a small stutter.

“For you?” he sighs. “Always.”

Noah’s eyes widen, his jaw clenching.

And his heart is fucking… fluttering. He really hopes his friend can’t feel it.

Something’s wrong. With him. Or with Mirage.

Noah doesn’t know what it is. But this is…

It is weird. Or, maybe not weird. Weird isn’t the right word for it.

“Mirage.”

Noah pulls away from the mech so fast, a yelp bursting out of him as he nearly tumbles off of the bot’s lap— he’s sure he would’ve gone sprawling into the sand between his friends’ outstretched legs had it not been for Mirage’s servos keeping him upright. He reaches out and grabs onto one of the bot’s gauntlets.

And before he can look away— to locate the source of the newcomer’s voice, a newcomer Noah is pretty sure is Arcee— he looks up at Mirage.

Oh.

Mirage’s face is doing… something. The mech’s optics are darker than usual— not glowing as bright a blue— and the silver metal just beneath his optics is tinged with a bluish hue, something Noah’s never seen it do before.

Noah doesn’t want to assume but it almost looks like a—

“Aww, Arcee, why you scarin’ my boy like that?” Mirage whines out, throwing his helm back like an unruly child who’s been told he has to eat all the vegetables on his plate. “His heart’s beating so fast!”

Okay, so Mirage can feel his heartbeat when they’re this close.

Wonderful.

Noah huffs— mortified but unwilling to admit it, even though his cheeks feel so flushed he probably looks like he could be doing an impression of a tomato— and reaches back to gently push away the servo Mirage has at his back.

“I wasn’t scared,” he grumbles, grunting as he steps down from Mirage’s lap and back onto the sand. “Jus’ surprised… that’s all.”

Arcee steps closer, smiling softly as she glances between them for a moment.

“Sorry, Noah,” she has the decency to apologize. “I really didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Noah waves her apology off.

“Nah, seriously,” he stresses, reaching up to grab onto the straps of his backpack. “I wasn’t scared or nothin’.”

Yeah, he kind of was. But he was mostly embarrassed.

Was it normal for cybertronians to hug humans? To hold humans the way Mirage was holding him?

Arcee isn’t giving him any indication. So maybe it’s not as big of a deal as it feels to Noah.

The femme fixes her gaze on Mirage, one optical ridge arching as both servos rest at her skirt plates. Her lower body cocking to one side as she watches the blue and silver bot rise off of the ground, raining sand down all over Noah who groans and steps away, reaching up to sweep it off of his head.

He’s definitely going to need a good, long shower later to get all that sand out of his curls.

“I said I’d cover for you for a couple of hours, Mirage,” Arcee points out, then mimics glancing down at a watch on her gauntlet in a very human-like way. “It’s been six.”

Noah’s eyes widen, glancing down at his own watch quickly.

Six hours? Oh, he definitely missed dinner. His ma’s gonna kill him.

It’s nearing sunrise already.

“It’s time,” Arcee emphasizes. "Optimus will not be pleased."

A sharp wave of what can only be panic rushes through Noah. It’s so quick, engulfing him from head to toe. He feels exactly the same way he’d felt when he’d had to stand there and watch Mirage be taken away. He thinks he makes some kind of tiny strangled noise.

The overwhelming sensation leaves him blanched and breathless.

“Arcee!” Mirage chastises, dropping to one knee beside Noah. “You’re not helping.”

Noah feels a couple of his friend’s digits slip underneath his chin and he lets the mech tenderly lift his face so he’s looking up into Mirage’s now bright blue optics.

“W-what is she talkin’ about?” he manages to squeak out, despite the dread that feels like it’s got a physical hold of his heart in his chest.

“It's nothing bad!” Mirage swears, holding his other servo up, palm out. “I promise.”

Noah swallows the lump in his throat and exhales shakily.

“Okay,” he yields. “Okay, sorry.”

He feels kind of stupid about his reaction, childish, and pulls his chin away from the mech's digits. But he doesn’t look away.

Mirage gives him a look that Noah thinks translates as sheepish, before he stands, optics flickering about for a moment like he’s struggling to make himself meet Noah’s unwavering gaze.

“Okay, so, uh,” Mirage stammers, reaching up to rub at the back of his helm with one slightly twitchy servo. “Well, you see, what had happened was—”

Arcee huffs.

“Ratchet has yet to give him the all clear so Optimus expressly forbid him from leaving," she reveals. "So of course he snuck out of the medbay without permission to come see you tonight, Noah.”

Oh. Yeah, sure.

Noah’s heart doesn’t feel like it’s swelling with joy and about to burst out of his chest or anything.

He’s totally like… chill about it.

[helleboretks]

Cocky, Until He’s Not

This is a Lee!Dazai and Ler!Chuuya bsd tickle fic. If this isn’t your forte, no need to read!

Summary: Another one of Chuuya getting revenge on Dazai, but what if it happened during their Sokouku Days?

FunFact: This was my first ever tickle fic, so lols to all of this-

People would be surprised how long Chuuya waited for this specific moment.

Three weeks of nothing but dealing with his partner’s agitating behavior, mentally noting every insult, every jest, every tease and taunt, filing it away for this scenario. He needed his revenge for the countless times Dazai’s fucked with him on such a constant.

He hadn’t known how until he came to Dazai’s best friend for advice.

“He’s actually freakishly ticklish, if that gives you something to go off of.”

Bless Sakunosuke’s heart, Chuuya swore to God.

It was the best thing he could have ever found out, no matter how embarrassing it sounds. This was information he was sure as hell Dazai would rather take to the grave than to give him even a hint about, but now that Chuuya knew this? Oh boy, he was going to abuse this for the rest of his life.

Who would have ever thought? Dazai Osamu, king of annoying, Demon Prodigy and most stoically ridiculous asshole ever, ticklish? It was glorious, a weakness Chuuya could utilize at any moment. His heaven, even.

And he’s going to milk it for all it’s worth the first time around. Chuuya waited, counting up the piles of teases and taunts Dazai spewed at him so recklessly, counting each one, each reason-good reason-, to absolutely demolish this son of a bitch. And now that he had a mountain, it was time to find the right opportunity to strike.

It was so much easier than he thought it’d be, and he loved it.

Dazai was just going at his teases again, following Chuuya, poking and prodding at his nerves like second nature (and it probably was by now), sticking his tongue at him, calling him names in which Chuuya would fire back. It was their usual banter, as always. At least, until Dazai made a comment.

“You’re soooo tiny,” Dazai laughed, pointing to his bandaged neck, “You wouldn’t even reach my neck in five years time!” Chuuya had growled at him before the bulb went off, to which he smirked, and leaned back, pulling his hands from his pockets. And with all the confidence he could muster in that moment, he blurted,

“You’re awfully cocky for someone who’s so ticklish.”

Dazai blanked for all of three seconds, before letting out an actual squeal and stepping back rapidly, clearly caught off guard by the declaration. “A-And where in the world did you get that idea from?!” he tried to save himself, he really did, but the all too obvious blush on his face gave it away. The fact that he could get Dazai to react so genuinely gave Chuuya so much satisfaction, you’d think he’d leave it at that.

Well, of course he fucking wouldn’t. Dazai was just tempting him now.

“Oooh yes, I know your secret, Mackerel.” Chuuya smugly replied, lifting up his hands as his grin sharpened. Dazai visibly paled. Hilarious.

“Fucking. Run.” Dazai didn’t need to be told twice, spinning on his heel and making a mad dash like Chuuya’s never seen before. But, as much as the other ran, Chuuya didn’t even feel a hint of worry. Why? Well, did you really think Dazai was the most physically capable out of both of them?

He let Dazai get some distance just to build up tension, knowing how his partner had such a love/hate relationship with anticipation. He took off after him soon though, forgoing his ability just to make this chase that little bit more interesting.

“Dazai~!” Chuuya shouted tauntingly, getting a loud ‘GO AWAY, CHIBI!’ in response, yet it only made the ginger scoff. The duo were bolting down the halls before long, Dazai crashing into walls and bursting through doors, not seeming to give a rat’s ass about the employees he was disturbing with all the ruckus.

And Chuuya was hot on his tail, bouncing off the walls (Figuratively and literally) in vengeful glee as he zipped past those same employees, who looked beyond confused. He’s pretty sure they, or more like Dazai, knocked over more shipping boxes than necessary, and they ended up coming to one of those big storage sectors, conveyor belts transporting big cargo down to the PM’s ship docs.

Dazai was hurtling over boxes, climbing them like a rabid monkey as Chuuya simply used his gravitation to bound up them all in one go, slamming onto the box above Dazai and thoroughly startling the maniac, who let out a sharp yelp at his sudden appearance.

“NO!! Get away, get away! This is why I hate stupid dogs!” Dazai cried, immediately fleeing as he jumped down the boxes, and Chuuya laughed rather maniacally, seeing all the panic and irritation in Dazai for once instead of himself.

“You’re avoiding the inevitable, you bastard!” Chuuya hollered, jumping down and following Dazai, who fled for the exit like there would be no tomorrow if he didn’t.

He flung the door open, only to shriek and stumble back before he could get slammed into by another employee carrying boxes and metal beams, and Chuuya snorted at his attempt to stay up right. His knees were shaking like jelly, and Chuuya could only suspect it was from the situation he threw himself into.

Somehow he was able to squeeze past, and Chuuya waited another second or two once that employee was gone before he gave chase again, skidding around the corner he saw Dazai dash ‘round.

“ODASAKUUUU!!!” Oh, just Chuuya’s luck! Seems like Dazai found his friend (and semi-traitor) in the common room, throwing himself behind the older one and pointing at Chuuya accusatively.

“Get him to leave me alone!!! Oh my God he’s trying to kill meeee!!” Dazai screamed as Chuuya skidded to a halt right in front of Sakunosuke, who seemed taken aback by what he suddenly found himself in the middle of.

“C’mon! You can take it! You’re the Demon Prodigy, what’s a little bit of wiggling fingers gonna do?” Chuuya grinned, the duo falling into a stumbling dance of side-stepping around Sakunosuke, who let out a small huff of amusement from their shenanigans.

“Dazai?” Said boy stiffened with a squeak, yet found it hard not to break eye contact with Chuuya when it was his friend calling him. “He’s a bad dog!” Dazai whined pitifully, shuffling some more and shrieking when Chuuya almost nicked his side. So close!

However, that near nick seemed to kick off the giggles in that fiend, who desperately covered his quivering smile and shivered all the same. (Chuuya refuses to admit how his heart beat faster at the sight).

“Oda! Ohoda, Oda, Oda, hehelp me! Help me, Jesus Chrihist!!” Dazai begged, tugging at Sakunosuke’s sleeve ridiculously. Chuuya and Sakunosuke shared a glance, and the older one smiled.

“Alright.”

Dazai screeched like a banshee when Oda grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him back-first into Chuuya’s awaiting arms, and he immediately started writhing, regret has never been clearer in his eyes.

“Odasaku you traitor!! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck y-AAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!” Chuuya actually laughed at the desperate scream that left Dazai’s open mouth when he started pinching his sides, the other squirming as he dissolved into a fit of uncontrollable giggling.

“Hey, it was bound to happen eventually.” Sakunosuke shrugged, as casual as ever even as his friend was being tortured right in front of him. “Aaaaand thank you for the gift, Sakunosuke-san!” Chuuya grinned, adjusting his grip and lifting the squealing mess of a Mafioso up, who leaned back as far as he could go as Chuuya’s fingers danced across his sides, legs kicking like crazy as he laughed.

“Anytime.” Spoke the low rank, who Dazai mustered up the will to flip the bird at. Chuuya kissed his teeth, fingers skittering across his belly experimentally, satisfied with the squeal he ripped from the other.

“I hahahahate yohohohou! FACK!!” Dazai screamed once Sakunosuke had taken his leave, Chuuya stumbling back from the sheer intensity of this boy’s flailing. “Jesus Christ, ya jackass! Would you stop squirming so much?” Chuuya huffed, walking backwards towards the couch of the common room.

“Thehehehen stooop!” Dazai whined between giggles, shaking his head rapidly before letting out a strangled gasp when he was unceremoniously dumped onto the couch. Chuuya didn’t waste a second, hopping onto Dazai’s thighs as the other threw his hands out, probably to attempt to stop Chuuya.

However, he did not account for Chuuya going for his underarms.

He clamped down immediately, convulsing where he was as his laughter grew more frantic, a string of cusses even Chuuya would be proud of spilling from giggling lips. He tried to stomp against the other arm of the couch, hoping to distract himself from the ticklish sensations, but he could barely move his legs with Chuuya sitting on them.

“Gehehehehet off mehe, you fahahat fuck!” Chuuya let out a choked gasp, offended that the other even had the gall to say that to him. “How the hell am I fat!? That just adds to the list of bullshit you put me through. More tickles for you.”

Dazai tried to let out a frustrated groan, but could barely get it out before his laughter got even louder when Chuuya flicked teasing fingers down to his hip, immediately peaking Chuuya’s interest.

“You are just one big damn tickle spot, aren’t ya?” Dazai frantically shook his head, yet that had to be the biggest lie he’s ever seen from the other. “Oh really now? Well it seems to me that you are, Mr.Squeak-sir-lot.” Dazai practically wheezed at the nickname, and Chuuya made sure to engrave that reaction into his memory.

“Now that I think about it, there’s one itty bitty spot I wanna try.” Chuuya casually mentioned, fingers walking up and down from the ribs to the hips as Dazai grabbed his wrist.

But he didn’t pull at it though.

So, he was enjoying this, wasn’t he? (How adorable…)

“Oh, well now you’ve just given yourself away, ya dumbass!” Chuuya grinned, hand darting up to attack Dazai’s neck.

And oh God, the scream that left him was more deafening than a triggered grenade.

He bucked and squirmed like a bull, squealing and laughing from his very gut. The words he wanted to say got jumbled and lost in giggles and laughter as Chuuya wiggled his fingers into the side of his neck, drilling and poking like rapid-fire all the while.

The first few tears of joy slipped down from his eyes, disappearing into his hairline as he snorted. That laugh was just so squeaky and dorky, down right hilarious, Chuuya couldn’t help but laugh along.

But at some point he did end up giving the other a bit of mercy, dying down to feather-light touches along his shoulders to the very base of his neck, eliciting squeaky little giggles from the mafioso. “I hahahate you, chihihibi. I swehehear.” Dazai gasped after a while as Chuuya rolled his eyes.

“Feeling’s mutual, partner.” Chuuya bit back playfully, only to blink a bit when he noticed the bandages over Dazai’s right eye begin to slip and slide. The other didn’t seem to care as much as Chuuya thought, simply scrunching up his shoulders and turning his head more to escape the tingly sensations.

“What? Never been tickled senseless before?” Chuuya opted to ignore it as well, Dazai letting out a scoff through feverish giggling, as if that would suddenly bring back his reputation to Chuuya as that stoic, constantly bothersome, moody Mafia man. Or boy. Whatever.

“Yohohou’re not even t-tryihihing that hahard.” Dazai snickered, and Chuuya used that opportunity to give a face of fake (and definitely a little real) offense. “Excuse me, you bitch? You were laughing so hard you couldn’t even speak a few times, what do you mean I ‘wasn’t even trying’???” Dazai chuckled, sticking his tongue out as Chuuya finally ceased his ministrations. And Dazai actually thought the other had had enough with him, but oh boy was he wrong.

Why? Well…

How was he supposed to react when Chuuya shoved his hands under his shirt and onto bandaged skin!?!? The bandages didn’t do a thing to stop it, either!

He let out a cry, retracting his tongue as he flung his head back, cackling crazily. “OW OW OHOW, MY TOHOHOHONGUE!! CHIBI I FUHUHUCKING BIT MY TOHOHOHOHONGUE, NAHAHAHAHA!!!” Chuuya snorted and laughed at his partner’s dilemma, who didn’t know whether to wince in pain or continue laughing like a hyena. Apparently, his body decided both were an option. This is probably the most Dazai’s ever cursed in months, he isn’t even going to lie.

“I CAHAHAHAN’T, CHUUYA I CAN’T-I CAN’T, FUHUHUHUHUCK!!” Chuuya raised a brow mockingly, asking, “Can’t what, Mr. Squeaks? Ya gotta speak up, I can’t hear you through all the white noise!”

“STAHAHAHAHAP, I CAN’T STAHAHAP, CHUUYAAAAA!!!” Dazai screamed, and the shorter boy’s face lit up at the opportunity the other handed to him on a golden platter.

“You can’t stop? Holy shit, you can’t stop the feeling! You Can’t stop the feeling~!” Dazai was snorting and laughing as Chuuya sang that lyrical parody to him over and over again, skittering all along his ribs and scritch-scratching at every space in between that he could find that made Dazai positively lose his crap.

Dazai was wheezing at this point, tears falling down from so much stimulation, yet he couldn’t tell if he wanted more or not. He was slapping at Chuuya’s bicep, cackling mindlessly as he squirmed and struggled weakly, feeling drained as the seconds ticked on.

At this rate, Chuuya could see the other was close to going crazy.

The moment Chuuya knew the other had reached his limit was when he started hiccuping.

Hiccups within quick succession of one another littered his laugh when Chuuya touched onto his hips again, skin on skin contact making it so much worse for the taller as he flung his head around wildly. It was as if he lost complete rationality, dizzy from the sensations.

“M-ME-MERCIHIH-HIC-IHI, P-PLE-HIC-EASE CHU-HIC-CHUUYAH-HAHAHA!!!” Chuuya decided then that the other finally had enough, slowing to a stop and allowing Dazai to sink into the couch, panting heavily as his laughter was gradually reduced to feverishly desperate giggles and gasps for air. Chuuya let out a victorious laugh, taking in the poor mafioso’s expression.

He wasn’t really paying much attention to Dazai’s face then, so it was only when he got a good look at him that Chuuya finally took notice of his loose bandages from before, and by that he meant he had no idea where the hell they went. But now he’s got a giggling, gasping Dazai shivering under him, two eyes of vibrantly dark brown gazing up with the brightest blush he’d ever seen.

It was precious. Dangerously precious.

And the wobbly little smile on the taller's face was doing things to his heart, unfortunately.

“Y-you’re staring~...” Dazai whispered, but he also seemed to try and avert his gaze, if only a little, subtle as always. Chuuya kissed his teeth and rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to throw out one of his normal insults when-

“HIC-”

The two stared at each other for what might have been hours, but was only a few seconds. Quickly, Dazai shot up (and almost headbutt Chuuya in the process, but avoided it) and covered his mouth as another hiccup erupted from him. Then another, and another, and another-holy shit.

“You did not just get the hiccups.” Chuuya scoffed, holding back his own chuckles as Dazai tried to retort, only ending up with another, much squeakier hiccup. His blush reappeared tenfold, body jerking from each hiccup as Chuuya’s restrained snickers grew at the other’s dilemma.

“S-Stop laughing Chi-hic-Chibikko!” Dazai growled, batting at the ginger’s head as he continued to hiccup, and Chuuya continued to laugh at the other’s misery. This was probably the most embarrassment he’d ever seen on Dazai’s face, so he made sure to commit it to memory. He couldn’t not do that, now could he? It was so utterly adorable.

…He’ll just pretend he didn’t think that.

“C’mon, seriously?” Chuuya spoke between giggles, raising his hands to squish Dazai’s cheeks mockingly, the other weakly moving away to no avail. “Look at you! You’re hiccuping like a maniac, mackerel.” Chuuya smirked, letting his fingers fiddle just underneath Dazai’s chin and near his neck again, renewing some of those little giggles in him.

“Nohohohooo, no-hic-mohohore.” Dazai whined, but for once, he didn’t pull away, in fact, he did the opposite. He leaned into Chuuya’s touch when the other stopped the light teases, simply allowing Chuuya to hold his face.

The two stared at each other, and Chuuya wasn’t sure what to call this kind of atmosphere, (That was a lie, he knew it all too well, refusing to accept it). Dazai’s squishy cheeks in the palm of his hands, those dark brown eyes that held a different gleam to them than usual, and neither could truly look away. The moment was quiet save for Dazai’s hiccups, the moment was strange in every sense of the word, the moment was…

“This is oddly giving me sexual aftercare vibes right now-”

Ruined. Thanks to Dazai and his stupid mackerel mouth.

Chuuya simply decided to tickle him breathless for that one.

Not that he wouldn’t have done it again at some point.

[eashmo]

7 minutes in hell, or is it heaven? Part 23 Final

-bad boys bring heaven-

Warnings: none because i'm an asshole.

a/n: long chapter, sorry it took so long.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*1 year later*

*Billy pov* 

It was my fault that she… she….. I should have driven to the diner a different way, or I should have fought harder. There were so many things I should have done so that y/n didn't…. The past couldn’t be changed. my sanity slowly slipped. It had only been a year. I couldn’t sleep at all. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her. There was nothing I could do to stop it. 

“I love you forever, y/n,” I whispered as her casket was lowered into the ground. “And I’m sorry.” My eyes stayed trained on her grave for what seemed like an eternity until I felt a presence beside me. For a fraction of a second, I foolishly thought that she was standing there beside me with our baby. I fell to the ground, screaming at the sky.

“BILLY?, BILLY WAKE UP!” a voice shouted. Jolting awake, I looked around frantically, trying to catch my breath. 

“Billy, look at me.” 

“M-max?” I breathed stilling up from the couch.

“You were having a nightmare, I just woke up from one myself.” she breathes. I noticed she had been crying, sweaty, and breathing heavily as well.

“Wanna talk about it?” she asks.

“I-I watched them bury her.” I started to cry and pulled her into me. She gave a tight squeeze.  

“Do you think these nightmares will ever get easier?”  she asks. 

“I don't know kiddo” All of a sudden, a cry was heard from the bedroom and hush whispers.  

“Shh sweetheart, mamas got you.”  I heard as I moved to the door.

“I love you so much.” I sigh from the doorway, leaning on the door frame, taking in the beautiful scene, “I love you so much more. Did you have another nightmare?” y/n said with a smile which quickly dropped when she saw the redness in my eyes.

“Yeah, it was the same one, but I'm ok now.” I said as I wrapped my arms around her and Cora. y/n leans her head on my chest and sighs. 

“Are you ready for today?” y/n asks.

“Of course, I've been waiting for this since i met you”

*y/n pov*

I was going to marry Billy today. As I tried to calm my nerves, I heard the door creak open. It was Max.

”Hey sweetie,” I said.

“Hey,” she replied with a small smile. “What's wrong, sweetie?”

”Nothing is wrong, just a tad nervous, I don't know why because I'm sure you're just as nervous. i'm just happy that we are finally family, i wish you the best, and i love you…… and i'm rambling”

I smiled and chuckled. “Thank you, and I love you too, kiddo. I'm so happy that you're my maid of honor and sister in law because if you weren't, i would be going insane.”

She laughs. ”come on, let's get ready.'' I say I held on her hands. “I'm ready to be Mrs. Hargrove.” 

She had helped me into my dress, a long ivory skirt, beaded corset top with lace sleeves that fit my curves quite nicely, standing at the mirror for quite a long time admiring the way that she looked. It wasn’t anything extravagant it was simple but fairytale like,  i knew for sure that Billy would love the way it looked on her. He had once told me that I would still look beautiful down the alse dressed in sweats and an old tee. As much as that was tempting, it wasn’t appropriate attire for our wedding day.

We hadn’t seen each other since this morning. I wish I could be in his arms right now. I was anxious to see him dressed up in his nice tuxedo.imagining how handsome he would look at the end of the aisle, i wondered if he would get emotional during the ceremony or manage to keep it all bottled up. After all, I knew I would not be able to hold back my own tears the moment my eyes landed on him waiting for me at the altar.

“You look gorgeous,” Max said as she stood behind me “Billy won’t know how to act when he sees you.”

“Do you think he’s nervous?” i asked,

“Oh I know he is. He always has been when it ever came to you. ” she said with a small smile. 

I had never imagined that I would become a wife to someone, let alone be marrying hargrove. It seemed surreal, but I was happier than I had ever been in my entire life. He was the father of my child and now is going to be the perfect husband. 

“I’m just so happy that we’ve made it here, with all the shit we have been through”

“I’m willing to bet he’s thinking the same thing.”

“Do you think all of the guests have arrived yet?” I ask, switching the subject off of almost losing him and almost dying. 

“Mm, it’s getting close to the time the ceremony is supposed to start, so probably!” she said enthusiastically. 

I smiled and was about to say something else before we heard a knock at the door. Max decided that she would be the one to answer it, just in case. Billy came to ruin the tradition of not seeing me before I walked down the aisle.

“Steve” Max greeted him with a surprised tone in her voice before she moved to let him inside the room. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, everything’s fine! I just came to make sure y/n wasn’t getting too nervous. Wow, you look so beautiful! Hargrobe is going to fall over when he sees you walking toward him. I couldn’t help but smile at the compliment. 

“Thank you, Stevie. How is he doing?” I asked him as he took a seat.

“Yeah, he’s nervous as hell. He even threatened to punch me like typical Hargrove. But he will be fine.” he laughed.

“So did you need something?” Max asked.

“Oh, no, I just wanted to come by and check on everything, and I wanted to brag to Billy that I got to see his future wife before he did.”

“Yep, you're asking for it.” I laughed. 

“Anyway, I think they’re almost ready for you. They were telling me to get down to the altar, but I told them I had to come to see you first. Your parents should be here any minute.” he says.

“You’d better get going, you’re supposed to be standing at the altar with Billy, and you’re gonna be late!” Max said he seemed to take notice of the urgency in her voice and left the room with a quick bye and wave wave. It wasn’t much longer before my father and mother arrived at the door. 

“Your absolutely beautiful, darling. Are you ready?” my father asked, a warm smile on his face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so ready for anything,” I answered, and we all left the room to make our way toward the ceremony.

“The ceremony is about to begin,” I heard the priest say as my bridesmaids and groomsmen formed a line with me in the back. everyone in my party gave me a thumbs up.

*Billy pov*

I  stood on a raised platform, his step mom sat in front pew, and a few of my family members scattered about. Adjusting my suit as I looked out to the carpeted path of the church.

“You’re lucky that you found someone that loves you enough to marry you.” Steve chuckles at my state of nervousness.

“Are you saying that you didn’t think anyone would ever love me?” I asked, and he burst out laughing. 

“No, I mean some people let things like that pass them by without a second thought. It’s good that you have y/n and held on to her, that’s all," Steve clarified his statement, and I couldn't help but think that he might have been referencing someone from his past…Nancy. 

“I feel lucky to still have her despite everything” I said in response. and the bridal party started to file out. Nancy, Dustin, Robin, Lucas, Joyce, Will, Mike, and El helped little Cora, who was the flower girl. And Max As she got closer, she whispered to me “she's gorgeous by the way” as she said that the doors open to reveal y/n. I could see y/n in her ivory dress, bouquet of y/f/f in her hands. She was looking straight at me, smiling that beautiful smile that lit up any room that she had ever entered. Her e/c eyes were sparkling with what I could only assume were tears, and I couldn't help but smile at her as she and her parents slowly made their way down the aisle. All I could see was her and how beautiful she looked, and the fact that she was about to become my wife. I tried to keep my emotions at bay.

“Who is it that allows this woman to be married to this man?” the priest asked. Her father smiled at both of us.

“Her parents” he said, she hugged her father and mother tightly and I shook his hand before her father made his way to sit down in one of the empty seats in the crowd, and then it was finally time.

Taking her hands in mine as she turned to face me, tears streaming down her cheeks as she smiled so lovingly at me. i reached up with one hand to wipe away her tears, and she laughed a little, seemingly embarrassed at the fact that she was crying, to begin with.

“Thank you all for being here today to witness the marriage of one of this lovely couple. I have the privilege to be the one performing this ceremony, joining two people who are in love as these two are. Anyone who has been in a room with the two of them for any amount of time can feel how much they love each other. I understand the two of you have prepared your own vows, so we’ll start with William”

“Me?” I asked quietly, and y/n giggled.

“Do you want me to go Hargrove?” she says with a teasing smirk.

“Oh shut up nerd” I sighed, which earned a chuckle from her and the crowd that had come to witness our marriage. reaching into my tuxedo with one hand pulling out the piece of paper that laid within the breast pocket. Clearing my throat.

"Not many people can say they truly married the love of their life, but I can. when we met in highschool —I used to fantasize about this exact moment—and now  I finally get to say, 'I do.' This journey, this adventure that we're on, has already challenged us as a couple, to work through hardships and obstacles, and to become stronger in our communication, in our commitment and to our love. It has been the biggest growth I have ever had for myself by far as a partner. Our relationship is full of more love and support than I could ever ask for. I have never been more adored or felt more safe, and the trust that we have built, that we have worked so hard to protect, is invaluable. So thank you. I've heard it said: 'It is better to not make a vow than to make one and not be able to keep it.' Therefore, I know what this commitment means. I promise… to help shoulder our challenges and celebrate all of our little wins. To tell you every day how much I love you and appreciate all that you do. To continue to learn from you and to follow the examples of patience and respect that you continuously share. To continue to build upon the trust that we have and to be by your side fully and faithfully. To put you and Cora first and above all, always. To try my hardest, to step away from my stubbornness, and accept that I make mistakes and that I am (to my dismay), not always right.  Most importantly, today, in front of our closest friends and family, I take you as my wife. Because this is a great love story and we're getting married and I love you." A tear fell from my eyes.

She wiped away my tear that had fallen as she still had a smile on her face as she cried. Max handed her a tissue, and she dabbed her tears away. She took a piece of paper of her own from Max. 

 "The night we played 7 minutes in heaven was the best decision in my life I had ever made in my life because now I'm so proud that today I become your wife. I love you. I love the way you make me laugh. I love the feeling of being protected in your arms. I love that you protect your family and friends. I love that you're open to trying new things. Today, I want to make promises to you that I will always keep. I promise never to stop holding your hand. I promise to give you all the love and support. I promise to share my food with you, never go to bed angry, and always honor your passions. I promise to stand by your side while you face the world. Listen to you when you speak. I promise that when you can't look on the bright side, I will sit with you in the dark. I promise to grow alongside you but also to never grow up. I promise to love, respect, protect, and trust you, and give you the best of myself, for I know that together we will build a life far better than either of us could imagine alone. I choose you. I'll choose you over and over and over, without pause, without doubt, I'll keep choosing you. Today seems like it's the start of a new journey, but I already belong to you. Falling for you wasn't falling at all—it was walking into a house and knowing you're home. I love you."

“El do you mind bringing little miss Cora with the rings.” the priest asked, and she lifted Cora from her lap into her arms, carrying her, and rings over. Cora let out a squeal when she saw us. 

“Mama! dada!” she said. Everyone in the church laughed at her cuteness.

“Hey pumpkin.” y/n says with a wide grin. As El handed the rings to me. Me and y/n gave Cora a quick kiss on her cubby rosey cheeks, which she erupted in laughter. El took her back to her seat. 

“William, go ahead and put the ring on y/n finger,” the priest instructed, and I slipped the shining silver ring embedded with tiny diamonds onto her finger. She did the same with my ring, which was also silver to match hers, and slipped it onto my finger.

“With the exchange of these rings, William and Y/N make a promise to one another to love and cherish each other for the rest of their lives. They promise to take care of one another and to keep the promises that they’ve stated in their vows. if anyone that’s gathered here today has any objections as to why they shouldn’t be married.”  There were no objections from our friends or family.

“you may now go forth and fulfill your vows with the same love and devotion which now blossoms between you. You are now Mr. and Mrs. Hargrove. And now for your first kiss as a married couple, you may now kiss”  the priest said with a smile before he backed away from the two of them. 

she pulled me down with eagerness into a passionate kiss as I smiled into the kiss as I melted against her lips. She wrapped her arms around my neck and leaned into his kiss, picking her up slightly before we pulled away for air. When we turned back to face our family and friends, they were all on their feet cheering and clapping loudly as we made our way out of the church hand in hand.

*y/n pov*

“Wow, Mr. and Mrs. Hargrove, that really is something.” dustin says as he hugged me

“It’s going to take some getting used to,” I said with a smile as I held tightly to Billy's hand.

“It suits you,” Billy says, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“Ugh, yall are adorable. You two are so perfect together that it makes me sick. Max teased.

“We’re married,” I whispered with a smile as I looked up at him.

“I - I love you so much” he answered, unable to find any other words. He was happy, so happy that he couldn’t even think straight. The last two times I saw him this happy was when I woke up from my 3 week coma and the birth of Cora.

“Listen, I know we put a lot of planning into this whole reception thing, and there’s cake and dancing and...whatever, but, don’t you wanna just go home?”

“Home? Everyone is expecting us…what about Cora? "I laughed. 

“Sorry I can't help it, you're so gorgeous in that dress and all I can think about is getting you out of it,” his voice lowered a few octaves as he pulled me closer to him.

“Patience husband, we have a whole week to ourselves.” I say with a smirk, breaking free from his grasp, I start running off toward the reception. looking back at him, giggling as he just stared at me for a moment. 

“You coming daddy” I chuckled as I saw his eyes darken. “You're asking for it princess” He growled as he shook his head and jogged after me to join in the festivities. 

(let me know if you want a honeymoon chapter)

previous chapter

masterlist

2023

Taglist: @goth-cowgirl-03

[halloweenfrills]

You needed the work, the money, it's always about the money, so that's why you're here in New York working as a maid for Dr. Stephen Strange, the brilliant, egotistical, surgeon. Well, he was a surgeon until the accident but kept the brilliant and egotistical part.

The place was sleek and spotless, exactly how you'd imagine a surgeon's penthouse would be, and it was all thanks to you that it was kept that way.

Every week a check was deposited into your bank account by Mr. Strange at midnight and almost instantly it was all taken in an attempt to pay off your debt. So you kept working even when he was insufferable.

"Don't wear that again."

So you didn't.

"You missed some dust along the piano keys."

A piano you'll never be able to play.

"The tea has gotten cold."

Maybe you should have drank it faster instead of researching for more doctors to fix your hands.

"Don't look at me with pity! Do you know who I am?"

Of course you knew. And you didn't dare look again as his hands shook.

No matter the remark or insult you held your tongue in front of Dr. Stephen Strange.

"You know...I'm beginning to think you like it.", Dr. Strange sighs at you while you kneel, wiping the tea that spilled onto the black glass table, you were used to cleaning up after him when his shaking hands failed to do the simplest task. "Like what?", you question, grabbing another paper towel to collect the last drop of tea. "Don't play stupid.", he rolls his eyes as you glanced up, standing to your height as he sits, scarred fingers trying desperately to keep the cup still in his lap.

It's easier to not reply, to just walk away and do your job when he gets into his moods, you knew he simply lashes out with harsh words to make up for how he mourns at the loss of his hands. So, you move to turn away but quickly find he's grabbed the hem of your dress to hold you in place. "Dr.?", you begin to question until he hisses in surprise pain, the tea spilling into his lap. "Dammit-", he groans, his head laying back against the chair, one hand still gripping your clothing.

As simple as it would be to walk from his grasp, you don't, unsure what to do because he's never stopped you in your steps before. "What are you waiting for? Clean it up.", he demands, annoyed blue orbs snapping up to you.

Work. You're working. You have to remember that. Because as much of an asshole Stephen Strange is, you can't deny how handsome he is, cruel blue eyes and a radient confidence, all topped off with dark hair and striking silver streaks. "Yes. Yes, sir.", you almost whisper out, grabbing the towels again.

Bending over him, you begin to dab the wet fabric that began to cling to his lap, feeling like you were doing something wrong although he told you to do it. His fingers let go of the hem of your dress but surprisingly went to your thigh, his fingers tracing your bare skin. Blinking, your gaze went to his face that was watching you intently, "Keep cleaning.", he instructs. You said nothing, feeling yourself caught up in the moment as you rubbed at his lap, feeling the doctor begin to grow beneath your touch.

"You think I'm helpless?", Stephen hums, your mind focusing on the circle his fingers were tracing on your inner thigh, trying to keep it steady while you were now stroking him over his wet pants. "You think I can't do what you're doing right now?", you shook your head, not wanting to doubt him as his deep voice was tempting you to melt like butter, the muscles between your thighs beginning to tighten at the thought of him touching you.

"My hands may shake but I can make you feel things that would transport your spirit right out of your body.", he challenged, this time cupping you with his large scarred hand, the feeling making you gasp and push yourself shamelessly back against his touch.

"Stephen?", you question, his hand staying put as your own hand stilled, simply feeling him against your palm. "Doctor.", he corrects you, moving his hand to lift your dress, pushing your lower back to make you arch more. You didn't mind his unsteady grasp, letting yourself give in to what he wanted to do. "Doctor.", you say this time which results in him petting between your legs in a way of praising you for obeying.

The question you had died on your tongue as your mind was beginning to become fuzzy, only focusing on the tingling feeling Dr. Strange was awakening inside you. He was beginning to throb harder while you slowly resumed stroking him. "I know. It must feel good.", he purrs, his voice close to your ear, the fabric of your panties beginning to become damp and clinging to you the same way the spilled tea made his pants cling to his lap. "It does.", you admit, trying to not squirm and become greedy for what you were chasing.

"You're too easy to read, you know that?", he chuckles, his two fingers moving up to press your clit which was aching for attention at this point. "Too. Easy. Too. Read.", he brags, tapping your clit harshly with each word.

By now you weren't focused on stroking him but he didn't seem to mind. What he wanted right now was to prove a point, even if the point was your pleasure this was about him boosting his already inflated ego. Words kept failing to form in your brain, it's been too long since someone else touched you so all you could do was whimper, your body language begging for more.

Dr. Strange took in your whining, using his shaky hands to pull down your panties, the wet fabric leaving your body making you shiver and your skin break out in chills at being so exposed to him now, so vulnerable, unashamed of how needy he's making you. Within seconds his touch returned, parting your lips to spread you open so his ring finger could pet your entrance, teasing your now soaked heat that was begging for something inside. It was impressive what his injured hands were capable of, your free hand now grasping desperately at the leather chair he sat in.

"I don't pity you.", you whisper, the first coherent thing you could get to leave your lips as he finally sank two fingers inside of you, hooking them, petting inside where it felt so sweet.

"Get ready to see the stars.", Stephen replies, beginning to fuck you with his fingers, the scars massaging your walls as they grasped his fingers as if your life depended on it. Your thighs were starting to quake, your breath coming in short gasps as you knew your face was flushed at the fire beginning to burn in your belly. You needed this. He needed this. Dr. Strange needed to see you get off, watching as your arousal was beginning to run down your thighs, those shaky hands working their magic on you as you fucked yourself back onto his fingers thrusting.

"Gpod girl."

"Look how wet you are."

"I can tell you're getting close."

His voice urged you on until he gave what was promised, a trip to the stars, it felt like you left your body as your orgasm ripped through you and turned you into a shaking mess for Dr. Stephen Strange.

The feeling of his fingers pulling from you draws a whine that sounds so desperate, aching already to be filled. With one shaky hand he grabs your chin, bringing the fingers that had been inside of you to your lips which you immediately took inside your mouth, sucking your own arousal from them. Dr. Strange watches in amused fascination, smug, knowing he was the best despite his injuries. You watched his lips part while your tongue ran along the scars of his fingers, almost drooling onto his hand, wanting to make him feel as good as you did.

"Hungry for more?", he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

[always-andromeda]

Hey Meda!!! Thank you for opening up Valentines prompts! Knowing you always brightens my day! 💛🌻

Anywho! Down to business! Would you be willing to do a Molasses Chip or Strawberry Creme for Percy? He’s a wonderful trash bastard. 😍🤢

– 𝐃𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐡𝐲𝐝𝐞 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: aaaa, thank you, Sav. I'm kind of loving the little bits of Percy I'm getting so far!! what a great way to relieve all of my school frustration lol.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Percy is a rotten asshole (but who couldn't have seen that one coming lmao), usage of the name "girl", nothing else I can think of!

Never in a million years would you want to kiss Percival Dolarhyde. God, who could even think of kissing him? He's annoying and a loudmouth and has no idea how to treat anybody right.

And he's ugly anyways. Yeah. The ugliest. The ugliest and saddest bastard you'd ever encountered in all of Absolution. Which – given the low population count – was an easy contest to win. But still, he managed to make it through with flying colors.

Every single day presented a brand new way in which Percy could find a way to needle into your side. In fact, if you didn't know any better, you'd swear that he enjoyed eliciting a reaction from you.

So, mustering up as much unpleasantness as possible, you throw your own punches. And in a way it's therapeutic. The frustration would bubble up so much that it was a relief to have something to blow your lid at.

Every time you call him some nasty name or manage to hurl some retort that shuts him up, your pride swells knowing that the Dolarhyde boy wouldn't get everything he ever wanted. No one was that lucky – not even you.

Because as these exchanges continue on, the urge to up the ante with every blow is so tempting. Because calling him a rat bastard and a nuisance and an arrogant cur simply isn't enough anymore.

Truthfully, the more his lips flap in the wind, sputtering out some feeble insult, the more you simply want to shut him up; to put actions to those words you so desperately cling to. 

Percy's face inches closer to yours as he speaks, "I ain't never known a more goody-two shoes little girl in all of my life."

"Funny how your daddy could be so rich and yet you still can't manage to form a half decent insult."

"Oh, like you could do any better, huh?" Percy scoffs, "Yeah, c'mon, girl. Do your worst."

And you do. At least it's the worst for you. In Percy's case...well, that kiss is probably one of the best things that's ever happened to him.

With his bandana balled up in your fist, you pull him down to your level. And just like every other punch you've pulled on him, your mouth doesn't miss its mark. They strike his dry, cracked lips and create a spark that's just enough to start a raging brush fire as soon as your own lips part and his breath quickens.

Percy struggles with his hands, half afraid that if he puts them anywhere on you, it'll break the heated spell and result in a kick to the groin. But when he settles for placing them on your hips, he's shocked to find that it only makes you whine desperately as you pull him closer and closer. So he does the same and lets himself sink deeper into the embrace.

You only pull away when the sharp and spicy taste of tobacco becomes far too much for you to handle. Because of course even when you're kissing him, something about him has to ruin it just a little bit. That's another thing you could be mad at him for, you figure. And part of you hates how excited you get at the prospect of adding that fact onto your list of problems with him.

"I wasn't quite expecting...that..." Percy murmurs, still trying to catch his breath.

"Would you rather I'd socked you in the nose?"

"No, ma'am," he replies sheepishly and eyes you wearily.

You blink a few times before pursing your lips and sighing. "I guess I could go for another taste."

[wa-royal-tea]

Previous | Beginning | Next

(Transcript & Translations under the cut & here - Click Pics for HQ Version!)

@thebrixtons​​​

Symphony Manor, Holan (8:30am)

*alarm rings*

Alfie: Good morning, cutie.

Catalina: Mhm, morning.

Alfie: Go back to sleep, it’s still early.

Catalina: Nuh-uh. I’ve been sleeping a lot lately.

*light switch clicks*

Alfie: You should be resting a lot, Lina. You’re still recovering from your injuries.

Catalina: I’m fine. You’re overreacting.

Alfie: Am I though?

Catalina: Yes, you are. It’s been two weeks. I feel better now. I can walk too.

Catalina: And I can do more than walk. If you know what I mean.

Alfie: Tempting, but, I don’t want to take the risk of hurting you. So, I’ll keep my hands to myself until I’m sure you’re fine.

Catalina: Urgh, you suck.

Alfie: *chuckles* Stay in bed. I’ll bring breakfast to you.

Catalina: You’re treating me like a child again.

Alfie: This time, for a good reason. I don’t want you to tire yourself out. And the doctors said that it’s going to take a while before you can make a full recovery.

Alfie: Please listen to me, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt again.

Catalina: *groans* Fine.

Alfie: Good girl.

*door opens and closes*

Tweet 1: an INTRUDER AT THE PALACE ?? fr ?? they got into a whole fight with alfie and #trashlina

Reply to tweet 1: they prob tried to put her in her place💀the bitch deserves it

Reply to tweet 1′s reply: stfu stop being a hater

Tweet 2: I feel sorry for the guests that already arrived. Ppl are dying around the world and they wasted their money on a wedding only for it to be postponed.

Tweet 3: LMAOOO THEY CANCELED THEIR WEDDING !!!! move over #trashlina, its marie’s time to shine ✨

Tweet 4: wait? they postponed their wedding? why?

Reply to tweet 4: the palace hasnt said anything … pelik (weird)

Tweet 5: atp i’m anti-monarchy, because what the hell is even going on?

Tweet 6: idc what everyone else says, i’m standing by alfie and lina 😔 nobody deserves what they’re going through

Tweet 7: how much do u guys wanna bet that they’re lying about the intruder? 👁👁

Reply to tweet 7: i saw a tweet from a former staff and they said nothing even happened … let’s put our tin foil hats on 😬

Reply to tweet 7′s reply: korg ckp ni boleh pakai otak tak? (ppl, can we pls think with our heads for 2 seconds?) stop jumping to conclusions you guys annoy the hell out of me.

Tweet 8: The hate she’s getting rn is unfair. Why’d you guys assume the worse of her?

Reply to tweet 8: Are you fcking fr? Did you forget what she did the other day?

Tweet 8′s OP replies: The apology thingy? You’re mad at her for that? I didn’t realize the marie stans are brain dead when it comes to Lina. She was doing the right thing by apologizing for something she didn’t even do. I bet if it was your fav who did this, you’d be praising her to the skies. Be serious.

*door opens and closes*

Alfie: What are you doing?

Catalina: N-nothing.

Alfie: Are you reading tweets on twister again? Stop reading those. It’s full of shit.

Catalina: I can’t help it. Last week was supposed to be our wedding day but it got postponed because of me.

Alfie: You didn’t ask for this to happen. And those people don’t know what actually happened. They’re just talking out of their asses right now.

Catalina: *sighs* Whatever. It already happened. Did your mum said anything about the wedding date?

Alfie: She said the wedding has been postponed to next month. The latest it would be is in two.

Catalina: But what are we gonna do until then? Don’t tell me you expect me to be in bed everyday?

Alfie: Mum said she’ll give us a new schedule to make up for the tour. She wants us to do joint engagements to build your reputation again. Right now the people are divided in half when it comes to you.

Catalina: Not surprised.

Alfie: Don’t think too much about it. You have me and the others to support you. And this time, if you did mess up, I will tell you. No sugarcoating. But, I won’t be an asshole about it.

Catalina: I’m a bit scared to hear what you’re going to say but thanks for listening to me.

Alfie: It’s no big deal.

Catalina: Oh, I forgot to ask. Did your mum said anything about my assistant? Since, y’know, Rowena’s not really in the picture anymore?

Alfie: She’s considering Anna to be your permanent assistant. The accusations against her has been dropped because Rowena confessed that she lied.

Catalina: Thank god. I liked Anna. I knew she won’t do it.

Alfie: Yeah. I’m just glad Anna still want to work with us. I heard mum said that she was a student Auntie Athy sponsored back in Cordelia. So she’s trusted.

Catalina: Is she a spellcaster like Lucy too?

Alfie: Nope. She’s a normal human. Like us.

Catalina: Oh, that’s cool. But what happens to Rowena now?

Alfie: She’s still under investigation. Your mama thinks it’s impossible for her to work alone. There must be someone helping her out and they’re trying to pry the answers out from her.

Catalina: Hmm...

*phone rings*

Alfie (to the phone): Hello, mum? Yeah, I’m at home.

Alfie: What? Are you serious?

Alfie: I...I see. Okay, I’ll tell her later. Keep me updated. Bye. Take care too.

Catalina: What was it? Did something happen?

Alfie: It’s Rowena.

Catalina: What’s wrong with her?

Alfie: She’s...she’s dead.

[argentnoelle]

troublemaker [on ao3]

Junmo isn't tempted by the case. Not really. [episode 1]

The bright sun and the fields of Euemseong had been enough to drive away the shadows, once. Park Junmo, exiled to such a place, had learned the peace of waiting in silence while the reeds rippled, and the ease of letting down his guard, in the small police station, with his desk overflowing with papers, the same few problems, never very serious. There was no one worse than him here. He learned to smile, how to feel dirt under his fingernails while his hair curled in the rough wind, his colleagues making good-natured jokes about his wild attitude. That’s Park Junmo, the city-boy; is everyone like that in Seoul?

Which Seoul are you talking about? Is it the one Euijeong came from, with its wide streets and apartments shaded by the trees, family of proud cops all framed under glass, churchgoing every Sunday? Knickknacks over every surface, tables piled with food. When Euijeong was promoted it took her back to the city, and she’d known he was bitter about it, although he said nothing but you deserve it. She did, and she fit into the creases of her black uniform gracefully. The SMPA should know what a precious thing they had. They should take care of it—but they probably won’t.

It doesn’t matter. Euijeong is quite capable of taking care of herself.

Yes, in the slums Junmo came from everyone was like him. Attitude was the one thing that overflowed; you may have nothing but you have pride, don’t you, and anger, restless anger, itching under your skin, anger at the man, anger at yourself your parents the whole world; but it hadn’t singled Junmo out until he tried to walk softly into Euijeong’s middle-class life and all he was, suddenly, was not good enough for her. You see, he’d thought he’d known what he was taking on. He’d thought he’d learned to take it, the sneers all through school, the teachers whose gazes glazed over him, the label “troublemaker” printed over his head before he even opened his mouth. It didn’t bother him because they were all fucking assholes really. Euijeong loved him, he loved Euijeong, and it made him feel so young and stupid, like a lovestruck fool. Dating clandestinely during patrol, sneaking kisses and gifts back and forth, the look of that silver ring shining on her finger—it was a beautiful dream and it said you’ve made it, Junmo, you’ve made it, you can forget the past. Then on the day of their wedding his father trailed in dragging the past with him like a rotting carcass, and from that day forward Junmo was not just rough around the edges, he was once again “the drug addict’s son.”

He didn’t want to go back to Seoul. He would have liked if Euijeong stayed with him, out in Euemseong where no one gave a fuck about his father, where his leather jacket was a quirk only and not a suit of armor. But Euijeong was going to rise in the ranks. She was going to make it. It was something she’d confessed to him before they married. It was something he’d known from the start.

“Junmo, there are a lot of guys who want me, but I would never even think about choosing them. You know why? Because they don’t want me. Not really. They want the sweet face I put on—you know—when I smile like this? They like the soft way I talk when I’m being polite. I’m a good girl, you know, I’d make a good wife—is what they’re thinking. And I do want that. But I’m not going to put anything above my career. And so… to even think abut dating someone who expects otherwise… I feel like I’m leading him on.”

“I know that, Euijeong,” Junmo had replied. He’d smiled at her, gently, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Don’t you know it’s why I like you?”

It’s one thing to be a career couple when you both have prospects, but years later and now she’s back in the city and Junmo isn’t, and he’s beginning to realize that no matter how much he works for it, it’s never going to happen for him. Just like in school, he’s painted before he even opens his mouth. No, no—he’s had enough of ambition. In these lazy summer days, Park Junmo practices not giving a fuck, learning how to not try. If he never gets around to studying for the exam they can’t flunk him—isn’t that how it goes?

If he gets into fistfights in school, then he didn’t really care about doing well in the first place.

Something like that.

He doesn’t miss Seoul, anyway. He doesn’t miss the light and the noise, he doesn’t miss slipping into the crowd where his braggadocio isn’t anything to look down on, where he doesn’t have to keep bending his head. He doesn’t miss the days spent hungry and bitter and watching his father spend the money on meth, watching him smile and slip into a place that exists only in the drug, leaving Junmo behind, with that gnawing pit in his stomach, the sting of bruises. He doesn’t miss getting into trouble and then running, running like his life depended on it, with a group of kids he barely knew, and laughing when their pursuers were gone—the smell of spray paint, the video games with which they frittered away pointless afternoons, and under the night-dark sky, throwing rocks through broken windows just to see them shatter, glitter like so many stars.

There’s only one kind of place you end up, a kid like that; you can’t live within the law so you either become it or it eats you. Junmo’s chosen his path and he’s happy, you know, not seeing the inside of a jail cell. Dohyung had been his foothold in. The man is kind, and his kindness comes at a cost, but so does most people’s—that doesn’t mean it isn’t real. Dohyung thinks—he’s never said it outright—that he’d shown Junmo the possibilities. Rescued him, given him a chance, Good Samaritan that he is. Well, he’s not wrong that Junmo never wanted to be a cop before Dohyung came to him and said it:

“Junmo, if you want to get into fights you should join the police.”

With a split lip and blood on his teeth Junmo had given him a grin: “sure, hyung. I’ll just sign up—your colleagues will love me.”

“I’m serious, Junmo.”

He always had that worried tone in his voice, Dohyung. Like everyone he didn’t personally save weighed on his heart.

“Me.”

Dohyung looked at him. Nodded.

And it was the first time anyone ever told him they thought he’d amount to anything. So.

It’s been years since then and Junmo thinks he’s at least paid off that debt. He’s kept himself off the streets, he’s married, he’s happy, he’s at fucking loose ends but he’s no one’s problem anymore. So when Dohyung shows up with this stupid idea Junmo doesn’t feel bad about telling him exactly what he thinks of it, this going-undercover-to-catch-thugs shit. “There’s a lot of other cops who can do this.” And Dohyung wants to give Junmo a chance. He’d been the one to see the pride wear off slowly, the shine dulling over with time: Junmo was a cop and he was going to be the best. He was going to make it.

He got his foot in the door because of Dohyung, and Dohyung had known before Junmo did that he wasn’t going to get any higher up the fucking ladder without something crazy happening. So there’s no reason for Junmo to refuse, is there? Except that Dohyung thinks this is the mission for him—him, Park Junmo—because even after all this time his past is knocking at the door, his father’s voice still as loud as it ever was when he got high and suddenly couldn’t stand the sight of Junmo who was after all another mouth to feed and who never got the picture, never knew when to shut up. You’d think he’d’ve learned how to back then, but he never did. Even when it hurt him more, got him into deeper shit, Junmo took pride in it, his smart mouth. It wasn’t until he met good people like Dohyung that he learned to keep quiet and pretend. His father would be so proud, wouldn’t he?

Oh, he would laugh his fucking head off. “Junmo, you piece of shit, you really think they care about you?”

From the last person who understands about care—Junmo is justified in throwing that one out.

You beat me to hell.

“I never claimed to care about you, Junmo. You always knew I’d put the meth before anyone else.”

Dohyung is, after all, a good man and he’s a practical man, too, and Junmo is the one for the job, maybe, because there’s plenty of cops who could take this mission but no one else suited for it the way Junmo is.

Dohyung, at least, is trying to help.

Cho Changsik is just an asshole.

“Even I wouldn’t give a promotion to a drug addict’s son.”

You weren’t imagining it. No one’s going to give you a chance. Not unless you do the dirty work. But you’re used to that, aren’t you. Well, hell. Who would Junmo be if he turned the man down, anyway? Didn’t he want to make something of himself?

After this mission, he’ll be in Seoul again. He’ll be with Euijeong. They won’t have that gulf between them, that hanging pity in her eyes.

Should he want to leave her behind? Can he?

He’s already made up his mind.

The city was whispering to him in his dreams for a long time.

[ao3]

[marleysfinest]

You know what. I don't even have to give you any suggestions. You have a brain big enough. You already know all the peeps I'm trying to keep away so I'm just gonna say... enemies to lovers. Whoever you want, whenever you feel like to, however you like. Nsfw? Sfw? I'll take any crumbs. Although you unfortunately have a talent for the former. Now I'll go take a cold shower

really ur gonna shower? now? what would toji think....anyway.....

[mostly sfw below the cut just to blue ball V but will say nsfw just to be safe. sexual tension, references to anatomy but nothing explicit.]

huge eren vibes when it comes to enemies to lovers. that little asshole is so arrogant and sure of himself that you've no choice but to hate him at first, and the way he high fives everyone as he walks past, all of them thinking him God's gift.

going out with him and the others after work one day, a day that you're feeling especially prickly and unreceptive to his so called "charm", and within 10 minutes of being at the bar you're wondering why you agreed to come in the first place. he's so loud; laughing with jean and bertholdt over some shit that happened earlier in the day, you don't care enough to pay attention. he makes a flippant comment about his performance and you can't stop yourself before you scoff, drawing his attention.

"what?" he asks, "something funny?"

it was no secret that he didn't much like you, either, with the way you were constantly on his back about the way he left the communal kitchen in a mess and the fact that he always stole your mug. he glared at you, legs spread as he perched on the barstool, awaiting your answer, and you could've sworn you felt a shy wave of heat in your chest. despite your former reserved feelings over coming out tonight, you feel a strike of bravery.

"yeah, you sound like a pig," you reply, eliciting quiet gasps from your co-workers, "and close your legs, do you have to put yourself on display like that?"

despite his very obvious disapproval at your sudden outburst, he lets the comments slide, shrugging and delving back into a quieter conversation. the conversation around you picks up, everyone apparently keen to move past the incident. you approach the bar to order another drink when you feel a presence behind you.

"bathroom, 2 minutes."

you know immediately that it's him, his voice is unmistakable. the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and from your head to your toes you feel suddenly alert, as if an electric current is flowing just beneath your skin. his tone isn't angry nor arrogant, but tempting and firm. you hated him so much that you had to see what he had to say for himself.

you leave your drink safely with a colleague before excusing yourself to the bathroom, climbing the stairs to the quieter mezzanine floor where you can see eren waiting for you at the end of the hallway. that current returns, or is it a magnet? why do you want to keep walking so badly? you continue towards him with blinding ease, and when you're only a couple of feet apart, you stop.

"yes?" you ask, trying not to sound too aggressive. a heavy sigh escaped his nostrils, almost indicating that he was being driven mad by something, and he made no effort to conceal his examination of you. looking at your silly little high-heels, your skirt, your blouse. everything about his expression gave him away, it's a hunger you've not seen on him before. you feel somewhat relieved; the stress of the evening hadn't escaped you, and in all honesty, you were growing tired of this feud. if you can't get on top of him at work, why not get under him in your own free time? as he reaches out to brush your hair away from your face - only to gently grab a fistful of it right after - you feel that warm flush in your chest, and the blood rush between your legs. with his other hand, eren is unbuttoning his trousers to reveal his cock aching to be freed from his boxers.

"oh," you sigh with one eyebrow raised, "that's why you need to sit like that..."

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

No Strings Attached (1)

(you all know who to blame for this.  @autumnslance​ @dragons-bones​ @driftward​ @erickgage​  I’ve never written Gaius before, I apologize if I fucked him up.)

Sunsets were coming faster on Terncliff, the seasons were changing.  It was now autumn, an all too brief respite from the heat of summer before winter came, bringing brutal blasts of cold air from both land and sea.  The end of the current day promised a glorious blast of color before night fell, yet Gaius paid it no heed.  He’d been in his office for most of the day dealing with the never-ending cycle of paperwork.

“General.  The Sharlayan contingent has arrived and is awaiting clearance.”  The announcement broke into Gaius’ thoughts.  He looked up from his desk--first at the young Revolutionary solider, and then at the chronometer on the wall.

“They’re two hours early.”  Not that he would complain.  If he had to read one more report, his eyes would more than likely tear themselves from his skull in protest.

“Apparently the headwinds were good.”  The messenger replied.  Gaius considered this, and then nodded.  Rising from the desk, he winced briefly as his bones complained--he’d been sitting down for far too long.

“Let us see what the city of scholars has sent us, then.”

---

The breeze coming in from the ocean was particularly stiff.  Astrid was grateful she’d eschewed her Forum robes (unlike the moron who was accompanying her) for a more practical pairing of aether-armored coat and pants.  A sturdy set of calf-high boots completed her ensemble.  She’d been tempted briefly to try a pair of the thigh-highs that had been made popular by Riven and her friends, but Astrid had stopped herself.  There was good taste, and then there was looking like a fool.  Thigh-high boots were best left to the young, who had the capabilities for them. 

“What’s taking so long?!”  Her fellow Forum member (the moron) Sioneaux Juilort complained.  He was selfish, stuck up, and one of the biggest assholes Astrid had the misfortune of serving with.  He’d been a pest to the airship crew and had been insufferable to the refugees accompanying them-former conscripts from Werlyt. 

“We have to wait on clearance from the Revolutionaries.  The area’s had problems with raiders lately.”  One of the crew said.

“Raiders?”  Astrid interjected before Sioneaux could continue whining.  The crewman shot her a grateful look.

“Former imperial troops that just...won’t settle.”  He said.  “It’s not just here, it’s in the other former provinces as well.  Raiders, self-proclaimed warlords...”

“I can imagine.”  Astrid murmured, her mind turning over the younger man’s words.  Werlyt was one of the lucky former imperial provinces that had a rough government ready to step in when the Garleans were ousted.  It was doing a damn sight better than Garlamald.  Fresh horror stories seemed to arrive almost every day from the ruined country.  

“Ladies and gentlemen!”  Another crewmember called out as the engine pitch beneath Astrid’s feet suddenly changed.  “If you could find your seats please, we are about to land!”

-----

The freed conscripts that were exiting the airship looked as if they’d been dragged through every Eorzean hell, Gaius noted.  News of the Final Days and the horrors they had spawned had trickled into Werlyt slowly, along with what had happened to the Empire overall.  For Gaius, it had been hard--no, it had been agonizing to stay where he was.  His promise to not get involved had tasted like ashes upon his tongue when he’d uttered it, and Riven Fortemps’ promise to do all in her power in his stead had soothed his guilt, but only briefly.  But then he would have to ask himself, what good would he have been able to do?  What could he have done in light of the sheer list of nightmares that had filled his ears and covered the pages of the reports that had been on his desk?  What could he do for a land blighted by blood and tainted aether, robbed of three-quarters of it’s population?  Nothing.  He could do nothing, his presence would have and still would only make matters worse.

“General Gaius?”  Severa’s voice broke into his musings.  Forcing himself to back to the present, Gaius focused his attention to the scene in front of him.  Two figures in white had disembarked from the airship, and were walking towards him.  One was a male elezen dressed in the official robes of the Sharlayan Forum--a brave choice, considering the current weather in Terncliff, Gaius thought.  His companion was a female midlander hyur, dressed in much more practical clothing...and bearing a weapon.  A smart move, considering the current state of the former imperial provinces.  Stepping forward, Gaius cleared his throat.

“Welcome to Terncliff.”  He began.  “I am Gaius...”  The Sharlayan duo came to a halt, and Gaius felt his brain freeze as he fully took in the woman, who gasped in shock as she saw him.

“Gaius van Baelsar, I presume.”  The elezen said rather snidely.  Gainus couldn’t respond, his tongue tied as he gawked at the white-haired woman...who was gawking right back at him.  He knew that face, he knew those eyes all too well...

~~~~~

“Stay a little longer, Astrid.”  In an attempt to be charming and hopefully seductive, Gaius pressed a kiss to one lovely bare shoulder.

“Hmm.”

“Stay and let me show you Ilsbard.”  Gainus pressed another kiss--this time to the nape of a graceful neck.  “There’s no rush for you to return home.”

~~~~~~

“Astrid.”  Gaius got out.  As he watched, Astrid-she’d aged from the last time he’d seen her, but she was still so lovely--inhaled.  Rage now glittered in her blue eyes, and when she spoke, her voice could cut frozen steel.

“Marcus nan Tiberius.”  The alias he’d used all those years ago sounded like a curse coming from her petal-pink lips.  “It’s a small world.”