#and it’s so much more rewarding to do it yourself

[puppyplayhouse]

Step brother Hyunjin things

Warnings: puppy reader, degradation, blackmail, choking at some point, dub con, kissing.

Lil headcanon of mean step bro Hyunjin (who maybe is possessive) being a dick (it's so delicious tho)

Has known you since you were both little because your parents were family friends before their respective divorces, so he knows every button to push.

Constantly using Dad against you. It's a core part of his blackmail, really. Every time you're a little less than compliant, he pulls up one of the thousands of pictures he's taken of you during your times together and asks what you think Dad would have to say about it.

Calls you puppy when people are around just to get you flustered. He's amazing at playing it off so that nobody questions it because well, he's just a good brother and you've always been SO close.

Any time he sees you alone on the couch, he's tugging his pants down and tapping his cock against your cheek. Of course, you protest. You tell him that you don't know when your parents are getting back. He doesn't care, though. He tells you that you should shut up and get to work if you don't want them to find out.

He's not always mean, though. You'd even say he's somewhat nice when you've had a really hard day and you come to him reluctantly, kneeling in front of him because you just can't be in control right now, and he's the only person who can take that from you.

He rewards you so well for that. For any willing submission you offer him, he returns it by making you cum over and over again on his fingers before he fucks you nice and slow, rolling his hips lazily into yours to drag out the low, whimpered moans that you let slip. He's only gentle with you when you earn it.

He loves to make you cum. He loves it even more when your pretty mouth is objecting to it and telling him he shouldn't be doing it, but your hips are bucking against him and your nails are digging into his arm in a pathetic attempt to ground yourself.

And he takes pictures every time. Sometimes, he'll force you to pose and use his fancy camera. Those are the more tasteful shots of you in pretty lingerie with wide doe eyes. Other times he's using his phone to capture the tears that spill down your cheeks as you gag around the length of his cock. He loves both equally.

He always has to degrade you. He'll pin you down completely still the movement of his hips as he makes you beg, always something along the lines of "C'mon, puppy. You were all talk before begging me to stop and now you're panting like a bitch in heat. Tell me you want it. That's it, more. I know you can do better than that. Tell me you're my worthless slut."

He knows you like it because your pussy is always dripping and practically pulses around him.

He would never admit it, but after a while you become the only person he fucks. Sure, he could have his pick, but he knows nobody else would look as cute as you do when you're staring up at him wide, panicked eyes, and tear stained cheeks.

He fucking loves seeing you cry. He loves watching you bite your pillow when he finds you laid on your bed and forces your pants down without a word, easily sliding his cock inside of you because you're always soaked at this point.

At some point he starts making you tell him that you love him. He has a firm grip of your throat and you're overstimulated to the point of becoming delirious as he uses one of your toys on you, thrusting it in an out of your aching cunt. "Tell me, and I'll stop, yeah? All you have to do is tell me how much you love me."

And you do. You say it like a prayer. You say it over and over again even after he's stopped, and he's got your cheeks cradled in his hands, cooing at you because you took everything he gave you without a complaint this time.

He was recording it, of course.

Recording you is his second favourite form of torture. He has so many videos of you sat pretty between his legs, your hands in fist infront of you like little paws as your tongue sticks out of your mouth, drool dripping down onto his lap to create a messy wet patch on the fabric of his pants. Those are his favourite to get himself off to.

Sweet brother Hyunjin is always nice enough to let you know when he's getting himself off to you. Which is every time. He sends you videos and pictures of his gorgeous cock fucking up into his hand and it's the only time he seems out of control, desperate for it to be you that he was burying his cock into instead.

Very rarely does he lay back and let you do the work. He likes taking charge and making a mess of you, but very rarely when you're being a good dog and sitting patiently, waiting almost excitedly for his next round of abuse, he lets you do the work. He'll pat his lap and wait for you to climb on top of him, watching in amusement as you fumble with his zipper and shove his pants down, messily grinding yourself against his bulge until he quietly tells you that if you don't move on, he'll leave.

You always perk up at that, taking it less as a threat and more as permission to sink yourself down on his cock. This is when he praises you.

He tells you how pretty you look and that you take his cock so fucking well, looking up at you with something akin to adoration sparkling in his eyes. He might even kiss you. His kisses are the ultimately reward, always slow and sensual. You become ravenous when he kisses you.

Maybe he'll even tell you he loves you. That you're his favourite puppy. He knows he loves you, and he has accepted that. But maybe he'll let you know when your grinding down onto his cock like the well trained mutt he has made you into.

He doesn't make it too sweet though. More like, "that's it. Take my cock, baby. Fuck, I love you. My desperate little slut. All fucking mine, yeah?"

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 16

Jake Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Warnings: a little smut

Words: 1500

The One I Want Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List

“I can’t tell you much,” Jake had told you, but you knew that. “We’re not a hundred percent in the clear, but it’s looking like four weeks, maybe five.”

“Beats fifteen,” you’d said, hearing a rewarding chuckle in return. 

You were thankful no one could witness the mess you were at that moment, your face-splitting grin heavily contrasting the puffiness of your eyes from tears. But that was just the beginning of weeks of inner turmoil. 

For forty-eight days, your stomach has swirled a storm that’s consistently had you on the edge of nausea, whether from anxiety regarding his safety or butterflies at the thought of Jake returning. You miss him, more than you thought yourself willing to, and regardless of what he told you, nothing guarantees he will walk through the door of your apartment. And if he doesn’t, you know exactly what will happen to you. You’ll crumble into unsalvageable pieces, and no one—not Millie, not Rooster, not anyone who has been kind to you over the last months—will be able to put you back together. 

And then what? Your only choice will be to leave. Start anew. Twelfth new place. Except this time, you’ll be more numb, less human, less operable on a daily basis. It’ll be like waking from a dream to a gray environment. You fear nature will lose its color, and you will lose your light once again.

—

It’s another week before your phone rings with a name other than Millie’s plastered across the screen. Unknown Number, but the first three digits are recognizable, matching those of the number Jake has been using to call you with. What you hear on the other end of the line, however, is not Jake, but instead, a gruff voice asking you to confirm your identity. 

“Yes,” you answer. “That’s me.”

The man clears his throat. “You are the emergency contact for Lieutenant Jake Seresin. We’d like you to come down to our medical facility as soon as possible,” he says before providing you directions.

You drop your phone, and then you’re running. Running to his truck, running from his truck to base, running through halls until you find someone willing to lead you to him. You’re so terrified, your arms jittery, legs barely functioning from the panic of Jake’s pending fate, so overwhelmed by nerves that when you finally do see him, it pisses you off. 

That man with the voice that imbued you with dread is on your shit list for life. Maybe next time, he could lead an emergency contact call with He’s fine or Don’t worry, because his implication was severe enough that you feared lost limbs or damaged brain functioning. But there Jake is, not in a coma or with some life-threatening injury, but sitting on the edge of a bed in a room with his back to you as a nurse seals a strip of medical tape across a small patch of shaved hair on the side of his head.  

When she’s done with her work, she smiles at Jake and nods at something he says before walking out of the room. She jumps at the unexpected figure lingering just outside the door, and then realization dawns. 

“Oh, you must be the girlfriend,” she says. “You’re welcome to go on in.”

So you do, cautiously easing into the room, hoping that when he turns, his face won’t be covered in slashes and bruises—a sight you’re not sure you can handle with strength and maturity. You’d love him all the same, but to see him in such pain would take you to your knees. But again, he’s fine. Beautiful as ever. Not a mark on him that you can see save for the one on the mend. 

Jake’s face brightens at the sight of you; he practically glows, and you’re shocked to discover yourself not running into his arms. You’re frozen for a moment as you take him in. It’s a quick moment—a brief second to recover—but then you’re stepping to him, your eyes watering, your bottom lip quivering, your fingers reaching up to brush over the stark white tape. You’re careful with your feathery touch, relieved to see that his injury is not so sensitive as to make him wince.

Jake’s arms wrap around your waist. His eyes do not break from your face. He’s patient as you scan him once more for visible injuries, verifying for your own sake.

“It’s just the one,” he tells you, his voice soft and only a few notes above a whisper. Your eyes snap to his. He lifts his hand to cup your cheek, thumb stroking your cheekbone. “Come here, beautiful.”

You melt when his lips gently touch yours, but the kiss doesn’t last long as innocent. There’s bites and sucking and giving and taking, and it’s perfect in its semi-sloppy neediness. Voices passing by the door is what breaks the two of you apart. Jake lightly groans before he chuckles and rests his forehead against yours. 

“I missed you,” he says. He places another quick peck on your lips. “I want to take you home.”

“Then take me home.”

—

“J-Jake!”

You feel his mouth curve against your core before he licks another stripe right through you, tongue like a heated blade slicing you in two halves, spreading you open and baring you inside and out. You’re completely gone—lost in the sole way you’re willing to be lost—as Jake tethers you to this earth. He’s the only one you trust to ground you while simultaneously letting your head float amongst the clouds. 

His arms curl around the thickness of your thighs, locking onto you and keeping your hips steady atop the mattress as he devours and tastes and sucks and licks some more.  

“Come on, beautiful,” he mumbles into your folds, just loud enough for you to hear through the rush of blood in your ears. “Let me have it.”

As if you could hold it back. 

Your whole body jerks and writhes as you sink into pleasure, back arching, head digging into the pillow. Jake reaches a hand up to intertwine your fingers and you squeeze them tightly while he continues to kiss folds and brush his nose against the overstimulated bud.

“There we go,” he coos until your body calms.

Jake crawls onto the bed, lips and tongue traveling up the soft flesh of your stomach, between the valley of your breasts, into the dip in your throat before he kisses you, demanding you taste everything you just gave him. 

Jake introduced you to your taste during those weeks before his deployment. His head lived between your legs. He showed you how to perch perfectly on his face, encouraging you through your concerns of suffocating him. He begged you to relax when he backed you up against the wall, slipped your pants off, knelt, and tossed your leg over his shoulder as he dove in. And after each success of making you crumble to pieces, he sealed his lips to yours and pushed his tongue into your mouth. 

You know your taste as well as you know his, and on the occasions he spills down your throat before he returns the favor, you get the satisfaction of the combination on your tongue—a mixture more intoxicating than an alcoholic binge. 

“I’m never going to want anything like I want you,” he says after he slips inside of you, the intensity of the love in his eyes penetrating your soul.

“Then it's good that I’m yours,” you whisper back.

Thrusts that were paced and steady and gentle falter. With your words comes a sharp rut of his hips—unexpected to you both—that hits hard, deep. Jake chokes on the air in his lungs, his eyes snapping shut as you cry out. 

“Fuck” hisses through the grit of his teeth. Then he finds his pace again. 

His head falls to your neck. Nibbles make you gasp, and the image of examining claiming bruises in the mirror first thing come morning causes your walls to clench around the veiny column moving in and out of you. Your fingers fist into his hair. Nails dig into the toned muscle of his ass. 

“I do love you, Jake,” you say. 

He stops completely, but you don’t question it. The fingers in his hair loosen and you lightly scrape your nails along his scalp, down to the base of his neck, then back up into blond locks. Turning your head, you stamp a tender kiss onto his temple. 

Jake doesn’t say a thing. He doesn’t look at you. His thick breaths burn the delicate skin just under your ear. When he begins to move, he’s slow, taking his time before he picks up, working to nudge that special spot inside of you that tightens a white-hot coil in your belly. 

“I love you so much, beautiful,” he whispers.

[clawsdevour]

want to know all of you

wc: 1.9k content warning: hinted established relationship, smut, insecure reader x hoshiumi, creampie, oral w!receiving, not proofread

ㅤ۫ㅤ⠀⠀ ◌ 𓈒

“..Do you really want to do this?” huffing through Hoshiumi’s heavy pants that lingered trickles of hot air in the crook of your neck.

His wet sloppy kisses remaining on the surface of your skin, reflecting in the moonlight illuminating through the curtains. His murky light eyes gazing at you in desire, cheeks dusted with a slight pink hue.

His heavy body hovering just slightly above you, your hands wrapped his thick and toned neck. Swallowing hard, you nod sheepishly. You’ve been dating Hoshiumi Korai for a while, his cute gestures of love always wow you in a way you felt like you needed to reward him at certain times. Sometimes you found yourself wanting more than just a frisky make out session, but you’ve never fiddled around with him like this before.

“Of course I do if it’s with you, Korai” pulling him away from your neck for just a second, exchanging a deep sensible glance to show you meant what you said. Completely breathless, his timid vulnerable self showing up on his face as he subtly bit down on his lower lip from excitement.

Nuzzling his nose back into your warm neck, you feel him mouth the words, ‘I love you so much,’ before sucking on your skin, leaving behind his bright red mark. His lips continue smooching your ticklish neck, gradually moving lower to your defined collarbone. The foreign sensation on your bare heated skin due to his tongue made you squirm under his touch.

“You smell so good babe,” pressing the tip of his nose onto you, half lidded light eyes peering up to sneak a quick glance at your flustered facial expressions to savor the moment.

A hand worked its way up under your thin tank top, pulling the hem of the fabric up with it. Shuddering at the cool air combined with his hot palms that rubbed against the sides of your torso to calm you. The feeling of embarrassment started to creep up the further his hands dragged your top up, exposing your bright pink bra that you wore before heading over to his house.

“Oh- ignore this.. I kinda just threw it on,” you spurted out, trying to cover your bra that his eyes couldn’t take off. 

“Ignore what? I think it looks cute on you..!” Hoshiumi intimately said full of genuineness, his hands just slightly above yours. 

Accepting his true words, your back is just slightly a few inches above the mattress. His fingers helping you unhook the back of your bra, thoughts full of negativity imagining what he’d think about your body. You slowly drop your undergarment, showing him the valley of your breasts. Rosy nipples freshly perked up from being released.

His eyes slightly widened as this was the first time seeing you without anything covering the chest he loves to dive head first into so much. Groping a breast in one hand, fiddling with your tiny but hard nub that sent waves of stimulating pleasure. Your other nipple being caressed by his hot and wet tongue that latched itself onto you the moment he saw it. Flicking the organ till it’s at its full hardness, sparking further arousal that made you rub your thighs together under him. 

His mouth moved further down like before. His slow and sensual marks were scorching hot and sloppy this time, as if he was branding the surface of your skin with his slightly swollen lips. The more he lowered himself on your body, the more ticklish it got as you tried to suppress your moans.

“You can moan.. Makes me know how good I make you feel” fixing his eyes on you once more when realizing why you were so discrete. Having your hands clasped over your mouth, you nod, inching them away from your face and onto the bed sheets.

Carrying on, Hoshiumi lifts himself up from your heat emitting body for a moment. Taking off his shirt, you see his muscular figure flicker around in the ambient light as he shuffled in front of you. Watching him gather by your legs, Hoshiumi’s trailing off your shorts by the sides of your waist band, lifting your legs to help him.

Left in nothing but your mismatched panties, you can’t help but feel a bit more humiliated than you were earlier. Not to mention, him still being clothed as he stripped you down article by article of clothing. The last thing to take off was your slightly damp panties. Sliding them off of you, you shut your legs tight together to try and not reveal your bare cunt.

“Do you need a break babe?” Hoshiumi questions in concern seeing how you’re suddenly reacting.

“No.. it’s just, a bit embarrassing to be seen naked. Especially since it’s our first time doing it together.. Y’know?” Mumbling under your low breath with your head lowered, trying to avoid contact.

Hoshiumi completely understands where you’re coming from. You both know that this’ll be the first time you guys will do it, but it won’t be the last. 

“I know what you mean.. But, really.. I think you’re the most gorgeous girl I ever laid my eyes on. I want to know all of you, inside and out..” Hoshiumi reassures you with confidence.

“Me too,” groaning whilst getting up from laying on your back, you give him a tight snuggly hug before you gradually took him down with you. 

Arms around his bare shoulders, skin on skin, before letting go followed by a gentle kiss you placed on his slightly puffy lips. Creating distance between your bodies, his hands leisurely start to spread your legs apart without your resistance despite you still being shy. 

Getting on his stomach, staring straight at your already wet pussy. His thumb brushing over your sensitive organ caused you to flinch. His hands grip onto the indentations of your hips before you felt a warm and sluggishly wet peculiar feeling on your clit that makes you subtly gasp. 

Hoshiumi’s eating you out, starting off at a consistently slow pace that has you spiraling the longer he took. Your body’s jolting up with every stroke made by the tip of his tongue as his hands forcibly kept your hips spread and tied down to the bed. His lips placed a few pecks here and there on your inner thighs whenever you started twitching uncontrollably. 

The noises you let out kept him going, not to mention, something growing. With the amount of arousal pooling in the pits of your stomach, the buildup had your breathing all raggedy and inconsistent the more he licked and swirled his tongue on your swollen clit. 

“Wait! I might.. Cum!” you said in between moans, tugging at his short white hair. 

Picking up the pace till you reached your climax, he’s going all out and slurping up all your juices until you came on his tongue. Unleashing your fluids that he drank up, you needed a moment to recover as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

His figure towered over you as you laid. Hoshiumi began to take off his shorts, then his boxers, revealing to you his cock that you’ve thought about since day one. It stood tall in all its glory, a bit of precum leaking from his mushroom tip. 

Before he spoke a word, he was also terribly out of breath to say anything. Fighting for air to access his lungs, a bit too delighted from the pent up erectness, he purred otherwise.

“Are you ready?” he tried to whisper, stroking his cock, base to tip.

Gulping down through inconsistent breaths, you nodded into your pillow.

“Yeah.. I think so,” watching him through the slope of your chest that heaved up and down with each puff you took.

Lining himself up through your folds, the tip of his cock sinking its way through. Fingers wrapped around the back of your knees, his soft kisses making contact with your tender muscles. The size of his girth felt as if it were splitting you open, the feeling starting to show on your face the more he buried himself into you.

“It’s all in. How do you feel?” trying his best not to move as much.

“S’good.. And full” placing your hand on the bottom of your stomach, trying to figure out where his cock went inside you.

Your pussy’s clamping onto him like no tomorrow trying to mold itself to the size of his girth, almost sucking onto him bone dry. Expanding the inside of your sopping cunt that cried out in pleasure, allowing you time to adjust before moving. Hoshiumi’s mind is going crazy with your plush walls pulsating around him.

“..Can I move?” a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead trying to suppress the overwhelming stimulation. 

“Go slow,” allowing him your permission to move, he does so. 

Moving at a turtle’s pace, he pulls back to reveal the glistening sheen later of fluids on his cock just to be shoved right back in. Yelping after the first thrust, holding onto his toned arms as he continued. When your cunt started getting the hang of his consistency, it drooled for more action.

The delicious friction and heat increasing between you two not only drove you two mad, but also aroused more sparks. The insecurity you had dissolved away the more his cock plunged into you. The stimulating pleasure that just so continuously grazes over your bundle of nerves has you moaning for more.

Your stomach fluttered and contracted against his cock that throbbed inside your walls. The sounds started to become inaudible the more you groaned and mumbled the words out of your mind, relieving your pent up sexual desires you’ve been dreaming about run loose. 

The more Hoshiumi picked up the pace, the louder the skin on skin slapping became and mixed in with the moist and squelching noises that increased between your sobs. His gruntings soon became praises, telling you how good you take him, how proud he is of you, and how good you feel inside.

Digging deeper within each thrust, he inches closer towards the nether regions of your stomach. Creating further stimulations, you feel a subtle build up that could be released at any time the more he plunged his cock into you.

At this point, his tip is burning a hot fiery pulse that you could feel throb while he marks your pretty cunt with his imprints. Nearing his release before you, he still continued to satisfy you before he could satisfy himself. Your moans were music to his ears urging him to continue. The visuals of your breasts bouncing up and down with each thrust, he just couldn’t bare with it for any longer.

“Feel so good babe, might just cum inside..” he smickered playfully, seeing your tired expression widen in surprise when his cock twitched.

“Cum in-! Inside me!” feeling that rope tug and snap, you came right before he was about to. Creaming all over his cock, rimming the base of his dick with a milky white froth. 

Totally out of it, until you felt a warm liquid gush into your quivering plush walls. Filling you up with his milky fluids that trickled out of your gaping hole that cried for more. Pulling out, as if taking out a plug that gushed out his essence that mixed with yours.

“You look beautiful like this..” eying the scene of his cum flow out of you.

masterlist here

[jetii]

So excited you are taking requests! I love your work ❤! Could I request a S(ish)FW (language and innuendos ok, basically anything except actual smut) with Prompt #56? I was thing fem Jedi!reader and Crosshair having a snarky/flirting conversation post mission? Maybe leads up to implied sexy times, I'll leave that up to you.

This prompt was so Crosshair lol thank you for requesting it!

Grateful

Pairing: Crosshair x Jedi!Reader

Words: 3,132

Tags/Warnings: fluff, canon-typical violence, arguing as a form of flirting, a gratuitous amount of swearing, some making out but nothing too crazy

Prompt: 56. “I-I don’t know if I want to yell at you or fuck you.” / “Surprisingly that is not the first time I’ve heard that.”

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Eyes up, General.” Crosshair's smooth voice sounds in your ear. “You’ve got company.”

You quickly pocket your datapad, taking a look around the forest. You don't see anything, and you look up at the tree where you know Crosshair is perched, the tip of his rifle just barely poking through the leaves. 

"How many?" you ask, keeping your voice low.

"Just one, but it's a big one."

You take another look around the trees. "Where is it? I don't see anything."

"You will."

“That’s not helpful,” you grumble, turning back to your datapad, tapping on the screen to wake it back up. The screen lights up, and you go back to your notes, continuing your read through as you walk through the woods, your eyes flicking up every so often to glance around you.

Nothing.

Your eyes focus back on the datapad. You’re still searching for an elusive herb that is supposedly native to this planet, one which is a rare and valuable medicinal ingredient. It’s not uncommon for Jedi and other medics to search for them, though it was a pain to do so. Making matters more complicated was that this planet was so far removed from the Republic that you were risking getting into trouble just by being here. 

The natives had yet to be contacted by the Republic, so your presence was an unknown to them. You don't even know if they're civilized enough to communicate with you, and if they were, whether or not they'd be hostile to you.

What you do know is that you’d be punished if you were caught on this planet without permission, and the last thing you wanted was to be sent to the AgriCorps. Again.

Crosshair, of course, thinks you're stupid for even thinking about searching for this herb. He had made a point to tell you exactly what he thought as the two of you set off earlier this morning. You’d left Tech and Echo behind to repair the ship’s systems, while the two of you went out to explore, Hunter and Wrecker doing the same in the opposite direction.

Crosshair was less than pleased at the idea, but he'd agreed to go with you anyway, even if his reasoning was more to ensure you wouldn’t get yourself killed.

As much as you hated to admit it, the sniper was probably right. Your chances of actually finding this herb was slim. You'd spent several days searching for it already, and your only reward was sore feet and an empty vial. You didn't even know how the plant was supposed to look, other than the brief description provided to you by a Jedi Master who had been on this planet before and some poor quality photos.

Small, white, fragrant flowers. Leaves long and thin, shaped like a star, growing in groups of five.

You were sure there was plenty of vegetation that matched the description on this planet. Hell, it was a forest, and it seemed like everything was green. The only problem was finding the right one.

You had no idea how long you had until the flower stopped blooming, and the plant lost its medicinal value. If you didn't find it soon, you'd have to leave, and then you'd be forced to return home empty handed, without the rare herb and with no explanation as to why you'd returned without it.

And worse, Crosshair would be proven right.

The thought of that alone was enough to make you want to find the damn thing.

You walk a few steps farther, pausing at a small clearing in the forest. You glance at your datapad again, checking your notes, then scan the ground for any sign of the flower.

"It's not there."

You look up. You don't see Crosshair anywhere.

"Where are you?" you ask.

"Behind you."

You turn and look, and you still can't see him. "Well, if you're going to criticize my choices, the least you could do is get down here and help."

"I am helping. By keeping you alive."

You scowl. "Where the hell are you?"

"You should really watch your language, General."

You roll your eyes. "Come down here and help me," you say.

"Help you with what?"

You jump and turn, letting out a surprised yelp when you see Crosshair standing next to you, the butt of his rifle resting on the ground, one hand resting on it, the other on his hip. His helmet is still on, and you're unable to read his expression. You hadn't heard him approach, and it had startled you, enough so that your hand had gone to the lightsaber at your waist.

"What is wrong with you?" you demand.

He tilts his head. "I didn't realize you were so jumpy.”

"Yeah, well, if you weren't always hiding in trees and making creepy comments, I wouldn't be," you grumble, releasing your hold on your saber one finger at a time.

"If I wasn't always watching your back, you'd be dead," he retorts.

"Yeah, yeah," you mutter. "You're the only reason we're not all dead."

"You're welcome."

You let out a sigh and roll your eyes. You’re sure he’s smirking underneath his helmet, and you're not entirely sure how you feel about it. There's something about him that irritates you, that gets under your skin, but he's also the only one on the squad that seems to pay attention to you. And he does a good job of it, too.

It's strange, really, because he seems to notice things about you that nobody else does. He knows when you're annoyed, or upset, or when you need to eat. He can tell when you're not sleeping well, or when you're tired, or when you're distracted. And when you're focused, like now.

The two of you spend a moment staring at each other, neither of you saying anything. You can practically see the smirk on his face, and you narrow your eyes, not trusting him. He's the most unpredictable member of the squad, and he always seems to catch you off guard. He seems to take great pride in it, too, and you don't appreciate it.

"Whatever," you finally say, turning back to your datapad and looking at it again. The description of the herb and its supposed medicinal value was all well and good, but the picture of the plant was very generic. It looked like pretty much every plant in this damn forest.

"Do you actually have any idea what you're looking for?" he asks, stepping up next to you.

You give him a withering look, and he just stares back at you.

"No," you hiss. He chuckles, a low, warm sound that makes your skin prickle. "You wanna tell me what's so funny?"

"Not really," he says, his helmet turning towards you.

"Asshole," you mutter, turning away from him and scanning the ground. He's still staring at you, and the feeling of his eyes on you makes your skin crawl. "Do you mind?"

"No," he replies, his voice low. His helmet tilts to the side as he watches you, and you can feel your cheeks growing warm. He's close, and it makes you feel uneasy, but you don't back down, and he doesn't move.

“Look, if you don't want to be here, you can leave," you say, turning to him, your voice rising.

He takes a step closer, and you have to fight the urge to back away. You stand your ground, and he leans closer, the black visor of his helmet mere inches from your face.

He scoffs. “And get blamed when you disappear and die on this planet? No thanks."

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?"

He shrugs. "Wouldn't matter to me," he says. "But I like to think of myself as a loyal soldier. Wouldn't leave a comrade behind, no matter how idiotic the mission. Or the person.”

You roll your eyes. He's just trying to piss you off, and he's succeeding.

"You're insufferable," you hiss. "Get lost, and stop following me. That's an order."

He chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Can't," he says. "I'm stuck with you."

"Why?"

He doesn't answer, just shrugs.

"Then just leave," you mutter, turning and walking away. You hear him follow behind, but you don't bother to look. You know he'll keep pace with you.

You walk in silence for a few minutes, before he speaks.

"What exactly are we looking for, anyway?"

"Are you actually going to help, or are you just gonna complain?"

"Complain, probably."

"Then leave."

"Not until you do."

"Ugh," you groan. "Fine. Look for anything with long, thin leaves, and white flowers."

"What does it do?"

"You don't care."

"Probably not, but I'm asking anyway."

"It's for an antidote," you reply. "For a poison. It's very rare, and expensive, and the only way to obtain it is by harvesting the flower. If we can find one with roots in tact, we can bring it back with us and grow our own. But the only place it's grown is here, and the blooming season is only a few days and then it's over."

"Sounds like a lot of trouble," he comments.

"It's worth it," you argue. "This could save thousands of lives."

"So, what do I look for?" he asks. You give him a look, and he shakes his head. "What? You asked for my help. Tell me what to do."

"Fine," you sigh. "The flower is usually found growing at the base of a tree or shrub, and the roots are long and deep, and it has a unique scent."

"Unique how?"

"I don't know, it's like..." You wrinkle your nose, thinking. "Like... honey and mint, I think? It's hard to explain. I don't really smell it myself, but that's what I was told."

Crosshair stares at you for a moment, his hands flexing. He looks like he's contemplating something, but doesn't say anything. Instead, he just turns away, walking into the woods.

"Cross?"

"Keep your eyes open, and don't die," he calls back.

"Where are you going?"

"To find your precious herb," he replies, waving over his shoulder.

You roll your eyes. "Just don't get lost!"

He doesn't answer, disappearing among the trees.

You continue on your way, stopping every so often to check the ground for any sign of the flower, and then move on. The day passes slowly, and you feel yourself getting more and more frustrated. Your frustration only grows when you see the sun starting to set, the sky slowly darkening.

"Fuck," you grumble, turning and heading back in the direction of the ship. Crosshair had left hours ago, and you hadn't seen or heard from him since. You had no idea where he was, or if he was still alive.

"Cross, you there?" you ask, tapping your comm.

Nothing.

"Crosshair, come in."

Still nothing.

You let out a frustrated huff. He was probably fine, but that didn't stop the worry from creeping up inside of you. It wasn't unusual for him to disappear, but you had expected him to stay close to you, especially after insisting that he stick with you.

"Dammit," you growl, turning back around. You're about to call out for him again, when you hear a twig snap behind you. You go still, your hand instinctively going to your lightsaber, and you spin around, igniting it.

You're not prepared for what greets you.

You're met by a massive, six-legged creature, easily three times your size, and twice as wide. It's covered in thick, shaggy fur, its legs ending in sharp talons. It lets out a growl, its teeth bared, saliva dripping from its mouth.

You're frozen in place, your heart pounding. You can't move, your limbs trembling, and you try to think, to find a way out of this, but you can't.

The creature takes a step towards you, its head lowered, and you can feel the air around you shift as it inhales. It's trying to catch your scent.

You grip the hilt of your lightsaber tightly, willing your hands to stop shaking, trying to keep the blade steady. You’ve fought bigger, more dangerous things than this. You can handle it.

You swallow hard, trying to calm your nerves. You can do this. You're a Jedi.

The creature opens its mouth, a low, rumbling growl echoing in the woods. It's almost on top of you now, and you brace yourself, knowing you have to act, or you'll be dead.

You move forward, swinging your lightsaber towards the creature. It reacts immediately, lunging at you.

A loud shot rings through the forest, and the creature stumbles, its head jerking to the side. Another shot, and another, and the creature falls, the life draining from its body.

You stand there for a moment, your lightsaber humming quietly, the smell of the creature's blood filling the air. You can feel your heart beating wildly, and you know you should be relieved, but you're not. You're angry, and terrified.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You could have gotten yourself killed."

Crosshair is standing next to you, his rifle aimed at the creature, his eyes hidden behind the black visor of his helmet. His hands are steady, his finger resting lightly on the trigger, and you can feel the tension radiating off of him.

Okay, now you're furious.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" you demand, glaring at him. "There’s no way the locals didn’t hear that. We're going to be in so much shit."

"That thing was about to kill you, and all you can think about is how much trouble you're going to be in?"

"Yes!"

He lowers his rifle and pulls off his helmet, and you're met with his usual expression of disdain. "You're unbelievable."

"Where the hell were you, anyway?"

"Helping you," he says.

"Bullshit," you hiss. "If you were helping me, we'd have found the damn flower by now."

He holsters his rifle and digs into the pouch on his belt, pulling out a vial and holding it up.

You stare at it for a moment, not believing what you're seeing. It can't be. There's no way.

"Are you kidding me?" you ask, snatching the vial out of his hand and turning it over. Sure enough, inside is a small, white flower, its roots still intact.

"You're welcome."

"This can't be real," you murmur, your eyes widening as you stare at the herb. It's everything you'd hoped for, and more.

"It is," he says.

You turn to him, your mouth hanging open. “I…”

"It's okay," he says, taking the vial back and handing you his helmet. "You can say it."

“I—I don’t know if I want to yell at you or fuck you.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, and you cover your mouth with your free hand, your face burning.

His eyebrows shoot up, and he tilts his head.

“Surprisingly not the first time I’ve heard that," he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"It just slipped out," you protest. "I didn't--"

"Sure you did," Crosshair cuts in, taking a step towards you. He's close, so close that you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, and it makes your knees weak. "I've got that effect on people."

"I hate you," you whisper, unable to look away from him.

"No, you don't," he murmurs, leaning in and pressing his lips against yours.

You gasp, but don't pull away, your eyes fluttering closed as his hands rest on your hips, pulling you against him. His lips are soft, his kiss gentle, and you can't help but kiss him back, your arms wrapping around his neck, his helmet dangling from your fingers.

The two of you are pressed together, his warmth surrounding you, and you melt into his embrace. You're not sure how long you stand there, your lips moving against his, your heart pounding in your chest.

You can't seem to think straight, and all you can focus on is him, his touch, his scent, his taste. He takes a step forward, and you gasp as your back hits a tree, his body pinning you there. He takes advantage of the opportunity, his tongue slipping past your lips, exploring your mouth. You moan softly, and he deepens the kiss, his hands gripping your hips tighter.

Your knees are trembling, and you have to wrap your arms around his neck, afraid that you'll fall. He seems to sense this, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you flush against him. His armor is hard, digging into your skin, and you let out a soft whimper, a sound that makes him smirk against your lips.

He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your skin. His eyes are dark and hooded, his cheeks flushed, and he's breathing hard. He doesn't speak, just stares at you, his gaze intense.

"Thank you," you finally whisper.

“For the flowers or the kiss?" he asks.

"Both."

He smiles, and it's one of the first genuine smiles you've ever seen from him. He's beautiful, and you can't help but stare at him, his sharp features, his piercing eyes.

"Come on," he says, pulling back and taking your hand. "Let's get back to the ship before the locals figure out we're here. You can show me how grateful you are later."

Your cheeks burn, and you quickly look away, trying to hide the blush that's creeping up your neck. 

"Yeah, yeah," you mutter, rolling your eyes, though you can't help but smile as he takes your hand and tugs you towards the ship. The two of you walk in silence, his fingers laced through yours. He's surprisingly gentle, his touch light, his thumb brushing over your skin.

You're still not entirely sure what to make of him. He's cocky and arrogant, but he's also protective, and attentive. He notices things that others don't, and he does what needs to be done, even when he doesn't want to. And he doesn't let anyone else tell him what to do.

But most of all, he's the one person who's always been there for you. He's the one who's always watched over you, even when you didn't want him to. And even when he's a pain in the ass, you're glad he's there.

You steal a glance at him, and he's looking at you, his expression soft.

"What?" you ask.

"Nothing," he replies, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Just wondering how grateful you're going to be."

You flush, looking away, and he chuckles, squeezing your hand.

"Shut up," you mutter, trying, and failing, to hold back a smile. You can’t deny you’re looking forward to it.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark

@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland

@marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino @silly-starfish

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Distraction (Annatar/Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which Annatar blinds you to the invasion of Eregion by giving you a taste of what you desire

Warnings: reader is manhandled and kissed on the lips and neck while under heavy mind control, having false feelings put into her head, basically no romance in sight, just Sauron being his dark creepy self

Sighing deeply, you strike out yet another flawed design for one of the Nine Rings of Men. It’s too similar to one Lord Celebrimbor has already rejected, but your mind seems to have been drained of all original thought after days on end of tireless labour.

At the very least, you have retired to your own study, away from Lord Celebrimbor’s sour mood. He has grown strange of late, distant at best and ill-tempered at worst. You doubt you would have been able to go on toiling as you do if it weren’t for the Lord of Gifts to lift your spirits with his words of encouragement, kind gaze and—on occasion—his soothing touch. He has a way of cradling your hand in his with such gentleness and warmth that it feels like a balm on your calloused skin, making any amount of strenuous work well worth the sacrifice.

You cannot deny, however much you would like to, that you have begun to harbor some measure of infatuation towards him. You try to put it out of your mind most of the time, but you must admit how much it motivates you in your work—the desire to fulfil his desire, as well as the fear that you might disappoint him.

Now, unfortunately, you feel the latter is a more likely possibility. You hate how utterly uninspired you feel, even though it’s to be expected in your state of exhaustion. You groan, leaning on the desk as you rest your head in your hands when a sound distracts you from your own frustration.

It’s coming from outside, you realize, from within the city. A distant clamour, muffled voices, and a distinct, harsh sound that has you standing from your seat, turning towards the door and—

—and finding yourself nose to nose with Annatar.

“My Lord!” you exclaim, hand flying to your suddenly rampant heart as you stumble backwards, bumping into your worktable. “Forgive me, I—I had not heard you come in.”

“Did you not?” he asks, quite puzzled. “I called your name. I was beginning to fear I had somehow offended you when we last spoke, since you seemed so intent on ignoring me.”

“Oh, no, of course not! I did not mean to—” You shake your head, stumbling on your words. Your cheeks feel as hot as the forge itself. How lost must you have been in your own thoughts that you hadn’t noticed his presence? “I was quite absorbed in the work, I think,” you admit apologetically. You mean to ask him what he needed of you, but then the same noise from before catches your ear, and you remember why you stood in the first place. “Is that the siege alarm?”

Annatar regards you with a slight furrow in his brow.

“You are tired,” he says softly. “Your senses deceive you.”

That may be true, to an extent. You had failed to hear him earlier, after all. But unless your senses have taken full leave of you, you are certain what you’re hearing is true.

“No, I can hear it,” you insist. “Can’t you?”

You don’t wait for his answer as you walk past him—or at least, you mean to. With a step to the side, he is in your way, causing you to halt in your tracks and blink up at him in surprise instead.

“All is well in the city. Your concern lies here.”

He’s smiling as he says it. The same gentle lift of the lips that you’ve come to consider a sweet reward for your efforts in making the Rings, helping you get through the long days. Now, however, it sends a shiver down your spine. And, for the first time, it is not the pleasant kind.

“Still,” you say carefully, “I am tired, as you said. I wish to go outside—for a moment’s respite, if nothing else.”

You try to step past him. This time, it’s his hand around your wrist that stops you.

“Rest, if you must,” he says, leaning ever so slightly closer, “but do so here. Then, focus on your work, as you are meant to.”

He doesn’t raise his voice, yet the order in it is unmistakeable. And his grip on your wrist is rigid, nothing like the calming touch you’ve known from him so far. You’ve displeased him, that much is clear, and the thought churns in your stomach—but for some reason, your urge to get out demands to be obeyed.

“I shall return to my work,” you press on, “once I come back inside.”

Again, you mean to walk away. You mean to put distance between you, to pull your hand from his.

He won’t let you. The moment you take your first step, his grip tightens and he pulls you back, bringing your hand between your chests and keeping you trapped against your worktable.

“My Lord, please!” you say in disbelief, frantically searching his eyes for any trace of the warmth that was once there. “You are frightening me.”

“You need not be frightened,” he says, a sharp edge to his tone, “so long as you do as I tell you.”

“I—” You stare at him, dumbfounded. You don’t know what’s come over him, but you want no part of it. “Release me at once.”

You try to wrench your hand away from his, but all that does is worsen the pain in your wrist as he keeps it in his iron grip. And yet he looks so eerily calm as he does so, as his other hand suddenly cups your cheek.

“Shh,” he cooes softly, “none of that.” Your heart trembles in your chest, painfully confused as he seems to contemplate you. “I thought you’d have let me in by now,” he muses. “But perhaps I should have done this sooner.”

“Done what—?”

His lips meet yours.

It stops. All of it. The confusion, the alarms—those outside as well as those within you. A wave of calm sweeps through the very core of your being, removing in its wake all traces of distress and leaving nothing but sweet surrender. A sound escapes your throat, something like a yelp that turns into a sigh, and...

How is this happening? What came before? You can’t remember, and you don’t care to. All you know is you have imagined this before, desired it deep within your heart, and that desire is being fulfilled. There’s an ache in your wrist, but the pain is dull and you pay it no mind as he tastes your mouth languidly. Your hands come to rest on his chest, his pulling you to him by the waist. And just as you melt into him, weak with desire, he parts his lips from yours.

“Forgive me,” he says softly as your dazed gaze meets his. “Did you mean to go somewhere?”

Your brow furrows as you try to muster enough coherent thought to speak.

“I... I believe I was coming to find you,” you find yourself murmuring. You don’t quite remember, but the words come as naturally to you as the act of breathing. And they feel true, once you’ve spoken them.

The tiniest smile blooms at the corner of his lips.

“I see,” he says, satisfied. “What did you need from me?”

“I... I needed...”

The answer eludes you. You only know what you need now, and the craving is so great you cannot put it into words.

Sure enough, he knows. His eyes hold a teasing glint, almost mean, as he leans down, pressing his lips to a tender spot beneath your ear before whispering into it, “This, perhaps?” His mouth travels lower still, kissing your neck as you tremble in his arms. “Or this?”

“Annatar,” you breathe out, uncaring of his title. Surely, you are beyond formalities now.

“Yes?” he says, awfully innocent, pulling away to look you in the eye once more. “Name your desire, and you shall have it.”

Your skin sizzles where he has touched it, and the hunger in his eyes leaves you breathless, and you are beyond merely voicing what you desire as you press your lips to his once more. He returns your kiss, matching your greed and swallowing your moan, and you think you might become reduced to ashes if he were to let you go.

It’s painful when he pulls away once more. You find yourself chasing his lips, craning your neck for just one more taste, but he cups your cheek to hold you still.

“Easy,” he says softly, yet the sole word feels like a command. You do settle down, though your heart is still rampant in your chest. He seems pleased by it, and that is enough to hold you still. “Now, I’m afraid there is an urgent matter I must discuss with Lord Celebrimbor. But I shall return to you, and...” he trails off, fixing you with a gaze full of promise which stokes the fire in your belly. “Remain here. Speak to no one. Wait for me. Will you do as I tell you?”

The words hold a strange echo. You can’t place it. You only know what the right answer is.

“Yes,” you agree quietly. And mean it.

“Good.” Annatar smiles, thumb brushing the apple of your cheek. “That pleases me greatly.”

The praise continues to warm your heart long after he is gone. You’re painfully aware, somehow, that you could never live without that feeling, or without him, again.

So you do as he told you.

[bubblegumgothglados]

Thinking about forcing two obedient submissive bottoms to hurt each other

Neither of them wants to be doing this, they're clutching at your legs mumbling incoherent pleas at you as you unsheathe the knife and busy yourself removing even the smallest of imperfections from it's edge. Moments later you're taking her hand and pressing the handle of the knife into her palm. It offers her it's outer thigh and just as directed she draws a shaky red line through it's skin. The smallest of moans escapes it's lips and you can see the envy in her eyes.

It takes the blade and holds it to her leg, it hesitates, it looks at you, it begs you not to make it to this it tells you it can't. You take it's hand in yours, you reassure it that it can and what's more it will. It gives in, it's obedience overcoming it's desire to not cause pain. With your hand on it's it pulls the blade through her skin.

Neither knows how long you're going to make them do this, both are too obedient to stop without being ordered, so cut by cut they carve each other up. She's sobbing by the fifth cut, it by the eighth. The pleasure, pain, fear, and disgust at the things their hands are doing mixed together puts them in a mental state that's delicious to you.

By the thirteenth cut it has begun to move with an automation that tells you there's no one home behind it's eyes, it's mind is in another place. And as she takes the knife from it the handle is so soaked in blood she drops it, and fumbles it again as she tries to pick it up. The fun is over, you take mercy on them.

You sponge them off with warm water and antiseptic, you know it stings but they're too far gone to notice. They clutch each other, sobbing, holding so tight you won't be surprised if they have finger bruises by the morning. Once they're all clean and dry you lovingly wrap their wounds in bandages with another good helping of antiseptic. You wrap them up in warm blankets and carry them off to bed. Tomorrow you'll reward them for being so very obedient for you. But right now they enjoy a much needed sleep.

[hazbinshusk]

Hi! I love your writing SO much. Your Blitzø works make my day. I was wondering if you could do 30, 36 and 37 with blitzø for the kids prompt list? I saw that these weren’t requested and something in my soul REALLY needs Blitz in these scenarios. No rush btw, love you and keep up the good work!

prompt #36: a kiss to the shoulder.

“Such a needy bitch,” Blitzø practically coos as though its praise, his hands smoothing down over the swell of your hips. He tugs you closer, and the movement pushes his cock deeper into your squeezing, eager cunt. You gasp as it hits a sweet spot, your back almost flush against his chest. “Feel so fuckin’ good…”

He has the two of you kneeling on the bed, your hands braced on the headboard as he thrusts into you in long, slow thrusts that only serve to tease you. You want it rougher, harder, and he knows it… and that’s exactly what the bastard’s taking it slow.

He wants you to beg.

Blitzø moans, low in his throat, as you push your hips back and flex your pussy around him, rewarding you by wrapping an arm around your hips and tucking his hand up between your thighs. He teases two fingers over your clit, and you him breathe a self-satisfied smirk as you jerk against him.

“Satan, fuck…” you sigh, letting your head fall back against his shoulder. Blitzø practically purrs in response, his lips finding your throat. He teases over the column of your neck with his lips and tongue, and when his teeth graze over your pulse point you turn your head to bring your mouth to his.

Blitzø kisses you fervently, his tongue slipping into your mouth. He groans when you reach back to clutch at his thigh, your fingers sliding along the sensitive skin above the back of his knee. You swear he shudders against you, his tail winding around your waist possessively.

The move makes everything feel… different somehow; both in a way you don’t want to address and a way that makes you crave him so much more. Your hands find your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples, grinding your hips back against his.

“So fuckin’ desperate,” Blitzø mutters against your lips with a smile, kissing you again before he buries his face in the crook of your neck. “Fuckin’ love it… love it, love it, love… fuck…”

Blitzø pushes you down onto your hands and knees, thrusting into your roughly enough that you almost collapse into the pillows. You moan, breath catching with every thrust, and the imp continues playing with your clit at a torturous pace. His claws clutch at your hip and your hair, balling the locks around his fist and jerking your head back. You feel his tongue tease along the curve of your lower back, the points of his fangs scratching at your spine.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, so low you almost don’t hear it. “Want to feel you cum all over my fuckin’ cock. Want you to fuckin’ soak me, baby…”

“Fuck, Blitz,” you whine, eyes squeezed closed. When he wraps your tail around his palm and squeezes the base of it you cum, and you do collapse onto the mattress as your orgasm rocks through you. Blitzø keeps fucking you, the only acknowledgement he makes to your whimpering a broken, cruel snicker. “Please… fuck, Blitz, I can’t… fuck!”

He lets himself flop down on top of you, boneless after he cums, laughing breathlessly when you grunt in complaint. “Unholy shit that was awesome.”

You giggle into the pillow your cheek in smooshed against, shaking your head. “We were supposed to be at work an hour ago.”

“Totally worth it,” Blitzø replies, and you feel him shrug against your back. He pats your ass playfully, and you swat at him with your tail. “Cheeky ass bitch.”

“Mmm… enough pillow talk.” you mumble. “I need to catch my breath.”

He snickers again, and you’re surprised to feel his lips press soft kisses along your bare shoulder.

“Fine,” he sighs, bumping his forehead against the spot he just kissed. “Should probably go make sure M&M aren’t fuckin’ in the office anyway.”

“Oh, yeah.” you eye-roll, smiling to yourself when he kisses your shoulder again. “’Cause they're the ones who can’t keep it in their pants.”

“Watch it, slut,” he teases affectionately, and you jerk beneath him as he slides his cock slowly out of your still-sensitive cunt. “Hate to have to teach ya a lesson ‘bout bein’ a smartass.”

“Shudder the thought.”

Blitzø grins wickedly, grabbing your shoulders and forcing you to roll onto your back. He spreads your thighs apart, tugging you down against his cock again. “Right. You asked for it.”

Your laugh breaks off with a cry as he thrusts into you once more.

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[vrystalius]

HI!! I’ve literally just been getting into Demon Slayer again, the phase never goes away 🥲

anyways, would it be alright to ask for a Genya x reader who’s Gyomei’s hardworking Tsuguko who has a hard time taking breaks? Take your sweet time and have a great day/night ❤️

Just for one minute…

You’ve been overworking yourself to the bone, training during the day and taking patrolling shifts during the night. Genya is starting to get worried about you not taking enough breaks…

Pairing: Genya x gn!reader

When’s the last time you’ve eaten? Drank some water? Heck, when did you even last sleep? Genya just finished his mandatory training for the day, watching you from the engawa of Gyomei’s estate. You’re really working hard to become stronger and more powerful and to become a hashira yourself one day, but this is a little too much on your body. Even Genya is starting to notice and that must mean something.

He had some sticky rice laid out on a cloth, positioned on his lap, making some onigiri with salmon filling. He carefully shaped them in his calloused hands, wanting them to look at least a little presentable. He’s not the best cook after all but wanted to make you a small meal to eat together, as some sort of reward for you working so hard. But also because Genya wants to personally see how you’re ingesting something edible other than hopes and prayers to not faint from exhaustion, dehydration or starvation.

To be quite honest, he may be using the food as an excuse to hang out with you a little. Gyomei continued to encourage him to speak and hang out with you to create a bond. It was obvious to Genya how his master tried to push you two closer. For example, assigning you to train and spar together, ordering you to patrol side by side during the nights or just frequently suggesting to hang out together during breaks. Doesn’t he know how much Genya sucks at talking to you? You make him extremely nervous with your pretty eyes and gorgeous smile, and especially with your kindness. You’re so attentive and nice to him, it makes him nauseous every time.

Genya figured it’s his turn to he nice and attentive for once, so he called you over to have lunch with him.

“I made too many onigiris to eat alone, want some? You’re probably hungry, haven’t seen ya eat at all today.”

You can’t resist saying no to that hopeful, little smile of his, but after sitting down together and letting your body rest, you fell into a minute long sleep while still slowly chewing onto the rice. Your body leaned over and against the railing and your mouth was slightly agape, the rice beginning to fall out onto the wood below. Genya worriedly shook you awake from your one-minute-nap.

“Hey… you should drop some night shift or at least let me do them. You really need to rest. I-I’m worried about you.”

He turned his head away after finishing his sentence, wanting to hide this stupid blush that is taking over his whole face. Is he seriously not able to control his face around you? Like, at all?! It’s extremely embarrassing and is probably coming off as childish!! But as Genya was beating himself up for being so flushed around you, he heard a soft sigh escape your lips.

“Just one more minute…”

Your voice made him turn his head towards you. You just hunched over and fell into a deep sleep, your mouth slightly agape. Again. Well, at least you chewed your rice until this time, but you failed to swallow it all since some still stuck to your cheek. You looked so awfully tired and yet peaceful in this sleeping state. Genya groaned quietly and slowly wrapped his arms around your shoulder, carefully shifting your position to lean your head against him, your full weight resting against his body.

Genya took the half-eaten onigiri out of your hands and put it onto the cloth he got it out from, wrapping it back up and placing it aside for the moment. He wiped the rice sway from with his sleeve.

You can eat the onigiris later, but for now, you really needed the sleep. He smiled slightly at your adorable expression while his hand soothingly started rubbing your shoulder. Genya’ll let you rest like that for as long as you like. You really deserve it.

💠

Hello, hello! Currently I’m uploading this from my mobile data so I am hoping and praying that I have enough to last for three days in this wlan-lacking-establishment. It’s nice though, me and my friend get to share a large room and we are right next to the forest and a creak! Also, so sorry for completing this request so late, hope you enjoyed it anyway!! I’m currently receiving a lot of asks to continue my Gyutaro fic and I am currently trying to figure something out!! Just know I am thinking about it a lot and am really trying to come up with something XD (Man, I really suck at doing part 2s. :,))

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough! It’s currently 1am and I need sleep desperately. XD

Take care of yourselves <3

[itsnotbird]

Orphic ~ File 6

Kalon (adj.) ; Possessing a beauty that is more than skin deep

Bucky!Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of violence, trauma, Bucky slowly growing crazy, obsession, alcohol, tw

Previous Part

Masterlist

It’s a slight twitch, one that contorts your sleeping face. You spiral into a dream.

“Head Father won’t be happy.”

“He’s never happy.”

Fifteen is a strange age to be covered in blood, but here you are in the shower room, getting your hands scrubbed by 502. A deal gone wrong, that’s going to earn you three days in the pen.

You talk in hush whispers, if anyone finds you talking in English, you’ll be in bigger trouble.

“I’ll be in trouble when he returns from Siberia.” You exclaim, pulling the gun from the holster tucked into the back of your pants.

“We’ll be in our way to Miami before he returns, it’ll buy you some time. Listen to what Mikhaylov tells you, be obedient and maybe Father will go easy on you.”

She pulls your hair from the braid it was in, then points to one of the showers.

“I’ll stand guard.” She promises.

That was a moment of peace before agents were taking you to the lab.

“Hello, 505.”

You sit in the metal chair, completely silent, just staring at the badge on his dirty white coat.

Jon Petrov.

Your eyes open, staring at the window. Quickly before you forget, you throw the covers off of you and rush to your desk in the corner, pulling out a notepad and writing down every detail. Still in your pajamas, you rush out of your room, down the halls, searching for someone to show.

Your mouth opens, one single noise comes out as if you were to call upon someone, but then you remember they’re all gone.

They left for Vermont early in the morning.

They couldn’t have left you alone, could they?

You shut your eyes, seeing if you can locate an energy close by.

Dr. Banner is in the lab.

“Jesus, kid.” He states in shock as you stand in the doorway, completely silent. “It’s crazy weird how soft you walk.”

You give a sorry smile and hold your notes out. He takes them with a curious look, then looks them over.

“Did you just remember this?” He asks.

You nod your head.

“Good, I’ll send it over to the team, maybe it can help.”

You don’t stick around, you go back to wandering aimlessly, trying to decide if you actually want to get dressed.

Most would argue that today was a day that you make the rules.

Because today is your birthday, and you are alone.

You do get dressed, knee socks, skirt, top, nothing extremely interesting, but you glide around the halls effortlessly, entertaining yourself while the entire floor is empty for once. Pushing random buttons on the stereo until music plays, you recognize the song.

You and 503 were in a Los Angeles strip club for a mission three years ago, dancing to this song. She looked over at you with a grin, enjoying the exotic dancer life a little too much.

You shake your head, trying to get rid of the memory. Into the kitchen you go, and decide you could easily figure out how to make a birthday cake.

As awful as that place was, if you were good, those in charge of your division would bake you a cake and reward you with gifts- gifts they’d take away as soon as you slipped up.

And even though you have directions pulled up on your phone, the mixing of ingredients doesn’t exactly go smoothly. It takes probably double the time it would normally take to pour the batter into a cake tin and put it into the oven.

Then it occurs to you that you’ve never used an oven so it takes a moment to understand the entirely too high tech thing.

All these simple things, and yet you have no clue. You’re a trained assassin with altered abilities, you will not be defeated by things of a 1950’s housewife.

Now you aren’t exactly sure how you get here, licking a spoonful of frosting while standing on top of the grand island. Like a trance, you dance to the loud music, nursing the power coming from your finger tips, letting it mist around the room.

How free you feel.

The timer goes off and you pull the perfectly round cake from the oven, frosting it. There’s no candles laying around, so you use matches.

You smile to yourself, then blow out the flames. You eat a slice, then put it in the fridge with a note that says ‘Not poisoned, enjoy’, making sure the others know it’s trustworthy.

That might not be normal, but it’s always been a concern of yours when eating things.

Dancing into the living room, you lose yourself in the beat, not really concerned about anything else.

The team returns from the leads in Vermont with not much success, only a few things they can work with.

“Is that music?” Steve asks as they enter the living quarters. The doors open upon their arrival, letting them follow the beats in the air.

“Aren’t you supposed to have enhanced hearing? Yeah, it’s music.” Tony rolls his eyes.

It gets louder and louder, a trail that leads them to the show.

A bottle of champagne in one hand, you twirl around, hips swaying, good footwork, hair falling messy in your face. You look a little messy, eyeliner smudged, lips red from sucking straight from the bottle.

Bucky’s heart stops in his chest.

You’re gorgeous.

The team just stops and stares, frozen in shock.

You choke and sputter on your next drink, finally seeing the group watching you.

You immediately halt in your movement, then flick your hand in the direction of the stereo to turn it off.

They have no words, of course you don’t either.

Nat bites her amused laugh back, taking pleasure in seeing you so care free.

“This might not be the right terminology…” Steve starts. “But why are you…busting a move?”

Everyone groans.

They exclaim things like ‘Steve, really?’, ‘That’s so dumb to ask’, and ‘Okay, Grandpa’.

Mood deflated, you just turn and walk away.

“You pissed her off, good job, Steve.” Sam says, monotonously.

“Was that not what people say?” He asks in genuine confusion.

As the group argues, Bucky watches your retreating frame until you disappear entirely.

“She’s not needed for the debrief, let’s get a move on that.” Tony finally says, ending previous conversation. But as Wanda returns from the kitchen, holding your cake, she wears a frown.

“It’s her birthday…”

Everyone’s expressions fall.

- - - -

The water’s cold as you sit at the dock, feet in the lake, bottle in your lap.

The wind blows, sending a shiver through you. Your body temperature might drop significantly, but you choose to stay seated. Your lips make a pop noise as they come off the bottle, and behind you comes footsteps. You’ve learned how everyone’s feet sound as they strike the ground.

You also know his boots sound different than the others.

“Hello, James.” You say, not turning to look at him.

He smirks slightly to himself, feeling extremely special. He is still the only one you talk to, and that possessive part of him wants it to stay that way.

You didn’t need to speak to anyone, anything you needed, he’d do for you. He’d want you to save that pretty voice of yours for him and him only-

Stop.

No.

He shakes his head free of those thoughts.

“You don’t want to know how the mission went?” He asks, looking down at you.

“How did it go?”

“Dead end.”

You hum, then take another drink.

He sighs at your defeated face, then decides he has enough self control to sit by your side.

“Why didn’t you let anyone know it was your birthday?” He asks, feeling relieved when you don’t move away from him.

You shrug. “There are far more important things than my birthday.”

Bucky scoffs. “Well that’s a depressing attitude.”

No smile, he feels defeated.

“Happy birthday.” He says next. “What, you nineteen now?”

There it is, that smile.

“Twenty five.” You correct, lifting the bottle back to your lips, though some of it spills down your chin.

His eyes watch it, how the champagne slips down the skin of neck.

He swallows hard.

Quickly, he tries to come up with something clever to say so he can distract himself from the urge to lean forward and taste it on your skin.

Christ, Sam might be right, he might be obsessed with you.

“Twenty five…I don’t remember being twenty five.” He says, and he watches as you turn to him.

“You were still a sergeant.” You say. “…I guess you’ll always be a soldier though, right?”

His head cocks in question.

“I read your file.” You admit. “I’ve read it a few times.”

He stares at you, trying to read your expression. What did you mean you’ve read it? Did that mean you knew everything? …What do you think of him now?

You can feel his anxiety, that’s why you are quick to continue.

“You’ve been Steve’s best friend since day one, they declared you an expert sniper, they scratched out the label of potential threat and wrote in ‘handy to have’.”

The champagne was really getting to you now, or was it because he is looking at you so intensely?

“Did you study everyone or am I just special?” He says with sarcasm.

“I’ve read everyone’s file, figured I should since everyone’s read mine.”

“I haven’t.”

He’s quick to say it, but you know he means it.

His blue eyes are soft for a man so adapt to killing.

Your breath comes out of your parted lips. Suddenly, the bottle is pulled from your weak grasp.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be getting drunk.” He says, taking a drink for himself before setting it down away from you.

“I have free will now, more than I know what to do with.” You state, gazing deeply.

He feels like he’s been drugged, but really it’s just that you’re right beside him, shivering, smelling like vanilla and cherries. It makes him a little woozy.

You blame your forwardness on the sugar and alcohol in your system. Your fingers reach to run against the cool metal of his dog tags that have fallen over his shirt.

“I like these.” You say softly, like you don’t even know you’re saying it.

“Why?” He asks, hoping you can’t feel the way his heart is pumping way too hard.

“I like the idea of having a name.”

Fuck. That’s heartbreaking.

Bucky furrows his brows. “You had a name once…didn’t you?”

Your finger twists around the chain of the tags, completely absentmindedly. “I had a lot of things once…a name, a home, a mother…they were all erased from my brain when they chemically altered me.” You explain, pulling your hand back. “They took it all from me…all I got out of it was murderous talents and a brand in my skin like I’m cattle.”

Bucky stays silent for a moment, watching as you think back. A dry chuckle leaves your throat.

“убийца. That’s what they used to call me with a smile on their face, like it was a compliment. God, I want to end them so bad.” You say, nose sniffling as you look away from him.

“Killer.” He translates. “Yeah, I know something about that.”

The two of you sit there, staring out at the water that falling leaves are slowly landing on top of. Bucky can’t stand to watch you shiver anymore, and the fact you’re just enduring it honestly makes him annoyed, annoyed at you lack of self preservation.

“You’re freezing, maybe you should go find Steve, get warm?” He says, trying not to sound bitter or worse, jealous.

Without one single word, you shift closer in one fluid motion and lean your head on his shoulder.

“Steve isn’t the only one with blood that runs hot.” You say softly.

Pressed right into his side, you continue to look out into the distance. He doesn’t know about this ability, but you can feel how his heart beats hard, and you know that if you concentrate, you can slow it down. Not lethally, not in the way you always dis, not to kill. Just to ease.

- - - -

“Your 11 o’clock is already here for you.”

Dr. Raynor thanks the front desk assistant and lets confusion over take her.

What was he doing here early? He always puts the sessions off to the very last second.

“James-” She hardly makes it into the office before he’s urgently standing from the couch.

“I need drugs.”

“What? James-”

“I know I said no to whatever you offered me before- what was it? Zo- something? PhantomZo or something? It doesn’t matter what it is, a damn horse tranquilizer would do, but I need something.”

Raynor calmly sits behind her desk. “Let’s slow down, yeah? Sit down.”

Bucky obeys.

“Now, why do you want the prescription? Why now?” She asks, not realizing she’s just opened a can of worms.

“I need my mind to go blank, I’m tempted to chew on a power cord to make it happen. Shock therapy did the trick before.” He says in a dead serious tone, making the woman look at him unamused.

“Humor helps you cope, so I’m not gonna tell you why that statement is severely wrong, but how about you tell me why you need your mind blank?”

He groans, running his hands through his hair. “The damn thing won’t stop. It just goes lightening speed all the time, so I need to shoot the hamster up there that won’t stop running on the wheel.”

Raynor looks at him, puzzled and worried that he’s regressing. She pulls out her notes from their first sessions.

“What thoughts are you having? Violent ones? About harming yourself or others?” She asks.

“No, no.” He grunts. “It’s this- it’s not violent. But they’re so annoying, I can’t even sleep. Blue, she’s-she’s there, all the damn time! I shut my eyes and she’s- and I can’t even speak sometimes- am I having a stroke? The age is really catching up to me, huh?”

She could dissect all of that and spend an hour talking about each thing.

But her first question, the biggest question, is the one she persists with.

“Who’s Blue?”

Next part

[cupidspup]

It’s late and I’m bored so enjoy this agere fic I made teehee

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CG! BEN drowned x Little! Reader

(All art is not mine and credit goes to their original artists!)

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CW: Aged up Ben, pet regressor little, feminine little w/ feminine nicknames (this one is heavily indulgent I’m sorry guys ���✌️), pet regression gear (pet bed, cage, chew toys, ect), alternative paternal nicknames (ex: baba), petre nicknames (puppy and kitty ones are used interchangeably!), a small amount of abandonment feels and loneliness but it’s okay because there’s lots of comfort!!

Summary: You and Ben are having parallel play time but suddenly your abandonment issues and anxiety start to sink in and it starts to make you feel sad and lonely. Luckily Ben is there to make it all better for you! (Self indulgent alert!!)

A/N: I was too lazy to figure out a way to fit in that the setting is Ben’s room in slendermansion into this fic thing so here’s how I’m letting y’all know and I hope that’s okay ८,,◐⩊◐,,ა

-`♡´-

You and Ben are always together, quality time is a huge thing between the two of you and everyone knows that. Wherever he goes you go and wherever you go he goes and you guys love it that way! It’s your version of perfect and you couldn’t ask for more! It even sends butterflies into your tummy when people ask where “your other half is” when one of you is missing from your usual pair. It’s domestic to you in a way and for people to immediately pair you two together in your eyes is something that you find particularly special. Now, you both following each other around isn’t necessarily a codependency thing but it’s just you both genuinely love being around each other!

If there’s a party you both are huddled in a corner either talking or playing games on your phone. When you’re home you’re always cuddled up to him while he’s busy doing his own thing. Most people would think that he’s too inattentive to be a good caregiver but not were they so far from the truth. Ben had actually never had a little until he met you. Much less a little who was also a pet at that. It took a lot of practice and communication but once he got into his own groove for it it’s been nothing but perfect. And ever since he first started caring for you he’s only gotten better by the day.

One of your favorite things to do with Ben is snuggle by him while he plays his video games. It’s something so small and unconventional but it brings you both a lot of joy. He has his gaming set up on a desk in his room. Everything is decorated just the way he likes. But he’s your baba and he loves to spoil you so of course right under his desk he’s has a perfectly pretty pink puppy bed for you complete with your favorite plushies and your favorite blankie. He even went ahead and put some small fairy lights so you wouldn’t be scared of the dark.

So while Ben plays away at his video games every now and then he’ll reach a loving hand down to ruffle your hair and caress your cheek softly. And of course you nuzzle yourself into his hand each and every time, cuddling up to his legs.

And of course today was no different than any other day.

You’ve been cuddled under his desk for about an hour now and Ben has been playing his games for a little longer than that. Initially, you went to your little crawl space to be closer to him and have some more of his attention but it hasn’t worked out quite yet. Ben still hasn’t realized that you want more attention than the occasional head pat!! Isn’t that clear enough already?? So if course as any pet would, you decide to get his attention in the best way you know how.

Pouting while being cute.

You rest your head onto his leg, smushing your cheek right up against it with a little whine. No response. You whine just a tad louder and nuzzle your head with a little more pressure. Nothin. One more louder whine with a little pout rewards you with a loving hand petting your cheeks and the most loving voice from him while he plays. “What’s up little pup?” He says as he softly caresses your face.

As soon as he says it, you feel it in your chest right in your heart. That twinge of pain and hurt is suddenly unlocked. It’s the normal pain you feel but it’s so much stronger when you’re so little and deep in your headspace.

You feel lonely. You feel abandoned somehow, even though he’s been right there this whole time! You know it’s irrational and it makes you feel crazy honestly. It’s hard to cope with it enough as is but while you’re like this? It’s a recipe for a meltdown on its own.

He’s still playing his game but you can tell he’s catching on.

“What’s going on kitty? You okay?”

You nod your head and try to pull back a little from him.

You’re being too much you don’t want to be a bother. This is too much for him it’s all too much. He’s going to leave and he’s going to leave you because you’re leaning on him too much. You have to do this on your own, you’re able to do this on your own why make him do this? He’s always playing and this is why, he needs an escape. An escape from you, you’re going to end up alone and it’ll be your fault.

The thoughts are coming in and they’re coming in fast. They’re bad and they’re overwhelming it feels like you’re suffocating from them alone. You want to cling onto him but it’s scary. He’s already so busy and you don’t want to be a bother more than you already have been.

The sound of Ben’s game being completed is what breaks you out of your own ruminating. He takes a second to stretch before pushing himself away from his desk and out of his seat. This pulls at your heartstrings, it hurts you to your core in the worst way. You curl up under the desk into your blanket, it’s the only thing that can comfort you right now.

It’s what you think at first at least.

At first, it looks like Ben was going to leave the room but once he was out of his chair, nice and stretched he comes down and sits on the floor with you. Chair and game aside he’s on your level with you.

“Baby, what’s up with you? I’m right here you can tell me anything, you know that.” He says with a comforting tone. When he looks at you it’s not judgmental or annoyed. Nothing of the sort at all. It’s calm and patient. The complete opposite of what you thought he would have been.

“Kitten are you having bad thoughts again?” He says as he inches closer. “It’s okay if you are don’t worry. You know your baba cares about you. I’d never be upset at you for that.” You pause and refuse to look into his eyes, you can’t seem to meet them even though he says it’s okay. You nod at him, confirming his suspicion. Curling into yourself further you hold your blanket closer for comfort. Ben sits for a bit to think before joining you under the desk, right in your crawl space. “Well I know there’s not a whole lot I can do to make your thoughts stop-but I know I can do a lot about how you feel about them. I’m not going anywhere at all, puppy. I promise you that, as a matter of fact I’ll stay here in your puppy space for as long as you want me to.” He wraps his arm around your shoulders and brings you in for a cuddle, which you silently accept. You nuzzle into him and the fabric of his hoodie wipes the tears that were forming in your eyes. He gives you a soft kiss on the top of your head and gently rubs your back. “That’s it pup, just relax for me.” You let out all the air you were holding in and snuggle up to him more. And it’s just like that. The two of you snuggled under his desk in your little crawl space.

It’s a nice comfort but very unfamiliar. Ben doesn’t really come down here since it’s YOUR space. You lift your head to look at him only to find him looking at the things you have under the desk with you.

He dusts off the scattered pacis you have, tidies up your various tethers and chew toys, and even organizes your various stuffed friends.

“You’ve got a nice setup, kitten. I can’t believe you had all this going on right under me.” He looks at you and his pointed ears wiggle just a tad. It makes you smile a little bit, it’s a thing he does sometimes without even realizing it most of the time. It’s something that happens really when he’s spending his time with you. He smiles and picks up one of the plushies you have under there with you. A gift from him of course. “Awe you got that thing I got you here. What’s this guy’s name again?? Rico?? Luka???”

You giggle and scrunch your face at him a little.

“Nu uh! Rilakkuma!!” You say in response as he picks up your other plushie.

“Oh yeah and his friend Corey” he says as he puts them together.

You laugh and shake your head no as you point to the plushie, “Nooo that’s Korilakkuma! You’re being silly!!” Ben pretends to be shocked at both the name and at your accusations.

“Gasp that is not TRUE! I am being sooo serious right now how could you kitten? I thought we were FRIENDS!” He says with a playful tone as he cuddles the bears together. “I’m gonna go cuddle with my REAL FRIENDS Rico and Corey now that I’ve been WOUNDED by my kitty.” His ears droop for dramatic effect. This of course makes you giggle even more. “Babaaaaa! Noooo!” He cuddles them close and starts talking to them, “Cmon guys they obviously don’t know what they’re talking about.” This throws you into a laughing fit and it completely shifts your mood. Ben is always the best at helping with that. He’s not a big fan of being like this in front of others but when it’s just you two? You get a side of him that no one else sees and it’s your perfect dynamic, hust the way you want it. He’s a doting caregiver through and through.

Ben being the self-appointed internet god he is, of course he knows these characters and their real names! You’ve talked about them before and he sees them all the time! He just loves to tease you and make you laugh. ♡

He hands you one of your beloved bears back (Korilakkuma) and keeps the other. Making his gives your a big hug. “See my bear is hugging yours because they love each other and I love you too, kitten. ♡ you’re always going to be mine and I’ll always take care of you. Leaving you would be just as upsetting to me as it would be to you-I’d never do a thing like that to you cutie. I promise”

You give him a big hug and bury yourself into his neck a little. And he hugs you right back because he’s secretly just as much of a cuddle bug as you are. “I love you puppy”

“I love you too baba”

“Wanna sit on my lap and watch while I do my stuff? We can do something else if you’d prefer that” he asks with a little smile. You’d nod and you leave your arms out to him. He gets up and lifts you up into his arms and take a seat with you. You settle into your rightfully taken throne (Ben’s lap) and lean against his chest. He drapes a loving and protective arm around you and uses the other to turn his pc back on. With a kiss on your head, a plushie in your arms and your little gear on stand by it’s the perfect setup.

You point at the can of monster on his desk and make a lil noise.

He moves the can away from you, “Nope. Sorry baby, little puppies like you can’t have any of that.” He leans down and opens his creeper mini fridge (yes he has one) and takes out a juice box for you instead. “I can however, give you this instead. That sound good?”

You nod and take the juice box, sipping happily as you watch Ben play his games. It’s a lovely routine you two have and you couldn’t ask for more.

Just like that, everything is back to perfect and you wind up spending your day with him like you usually do. Curled up in his lap like a good kitty and spending time with him like usual.♡

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A/N: WOof this took FOREVER and I initially planned on posting sneak leaks but I never was able to like write enough for that but I’ve been up since 5 am and I’ve been writing and it’s honestly come together so nicely and so much better than I thought it would?? I dunno if it’s obvious but this is so incredibly self indulgent it’s not even funny lol I hope you guys liked it nonetheless! I have so much more planned (especially with Ben and Toby as caregivers) and I can’t wait to share that with you! Love you guys!

-Puppy 🐶ིྀ🐾♡₊ ⊹

[meggie-moo]

Nobody will ever be more annoying than the ai art community

[redrockbutch]

I feel like "do you feel an accomplishment after completing a task" discourse is going the way of so many, where people who claim not to feel this are deciding they're the perfect ones to explain how they believe it would feel and ascribing an exaggerated level of emotion that few people ever reach, which means that more people read those posts and decide they also must not feel Sense Of Accomplishment Emotion: The Ticker Tape Parade when in fact everyone involved does, it's just small and weak bc they don't nurture that feeling and instead as soon as they complete a task they wallow over their belief that they're chemically incapable of being happy for themselves

[13eyond13]

Sometimes I still think about how sweet it was when that anon checked on me last year when I was posting overly dark jokes. Thank you whoever you were, that was kind

[cathalbravecog]

Man... I can't stop thinking about the things that were talked about on the stream, especially the answer on my question - so... get ready for a ramble! its a long one. oops. i dont even know where im going with this, im just dumping my thoughts somewhere. half is about ttcc lore in general and the streams, the other half is about cathal and me projecting onto him deeper.

before i even hop deeper into this, it wasn't until early today that i learned that there was a whole drama about cranky's answers (regarding the graham and flint question and the whole "keep it sane" thing. i thought it was...off, but i understood it as 'do what you want people, just don't start any harassment because of ships and your favorite pairs'.

definitely could have been phrased better, though. at least we got a good response and an apology later from maven on twitter. but i legit did not know this was a drama until those twitter posts were made LOL. i dont interact with the fandom so i do not know how that answer was percieved by most. or if anyone except for me and my friends have had any thoughts about the question i asked that got answered.)

and what im tryna get to is that i get cranky isnt the one to be answering lore things, and probably didnt know what to answer... but it's still something to think about

because being told "cogs and toons just dont become how they are out of the blue" (paraphrasing here) as an answer to what cathal initially thought of seeing his dad be bet up and thrown off a tower is... confusing? he did say first and foremost that it has to be built upon before saying that. i understand that this is... a lot of characters! and cathal did have some focus on him thanks to the comic and they wanted to focus on other managers... but some have deeper, more intricate lore that's easy to grasp (especially the more, well, angstier managers like chip and misty.)

and we have gotten some extra lore for other managers like belle, mary, tawny.... thanks to thomas' rambles.

and it's definitely difficult for a team of volounteers working hard on a fan game together to make lore for all the characters, that are still very young in their *life span*, having been around for less than a year. despite ttcc being more character driven and focused on the cogs, it's still a game they have to run so they cannot focus on lore only and some game management has to be done first. there's a bunch of things they have to consider, like consistency and how fans may react, or possible themes or what they want the story to be...

and. yeah. its hard since. come on lets admit it. clash has an issue with how these are all given to us. hell, there's lore bits i still dont know about and im still learning because it's..so all over the place. a new player will not know about it. maven acknowledged this in the tweet and i really appreciate that, as it's honestly been my number one issue with clash, especially as someone who is there for the lore. (i mean, and the gameplay, i know some people who don't play the game itself much. well i sure do a little TOO MUCH because i have PROBLEMS. but im interested in the lore, too, yknow?)

some lore you cant learn from the wiki, and unless you interact with the community, you may never learn *where* all of this even is. if you werent live for certain lore there, it's hardly accessible to you. lore locked behind one time events, an arg website, wikis, discord chats... all that. it's hard to keep track of! i'm sure it's like that for both the fans and the writers. these characters are great, fun, and i love them, but the way we are given this information is... not the best. it's very easy to miss certain details.

it's especially bad if you're like me - only ever interacting with a close group of people you trust, (because people are scary especially a lot of... lore driven fans. yeahnoimeanshippers.sorry.and just big crowds of people in general) having only gotten back into the game recently AFTER most of the major lore events (first played once in 2019, then never again until january 2023) and also you dislike youtube and video content, so you dont watch it. something in your brain would rather if you step on a nail than watch a playthrough video (especially with commentary).

like in general it shouldnt be necessary to go through all these hoops just to know the lore! especially for things that may have little lore...

anyways, uh, back to cathal. i cannot stop thinking about this.

it definitely wasnt an answer to what i specifically asked - but possibly more so about... why cathal is the way he is? and despite what my brain and low self esteem during hard times may tell me - i do not believe that anybody is truly "lazy". i just dont think that exists. there's always some reason behind a person being unmotivated or lazy. even the little things!

but like... that's just kinda obvious. all toons and cogs have motivations. thats like... one of the basics of writing characters. have motivations for characters and reasons for why they are how they are. doesnt have to be anything tragic, just.... how they are as people.

it's totally unrelated to the question of what cathal thought about seeing his dad like that... but oh well! i asked that because i made up my own story around that already, and i just wanted to see what someone working on the game thinks about the same idea.

not to be Tumblr User CathalBravecog, but, of course I have projected heavily onto cathal. i have already stated how important cathal is to me as a character, especially with appreciating myself when im.. not exactly the most motivated. when im not doing much. taught me to appreciate breaks. hell! i keep preaching this myself. its okay to take breaks! and yet i often end up not doing it and i overwork myself on games and art and other things.

there's... a lot of things "wrong" with me that i don't have names for yet, especially due to not having a diagnosis for them, but they're very real feelings and they cause me to be unable to do things a lot of the time. various mental blocks and a new member of the gang... physical pai! hooray.

this... endless productivity we are forced and expected to do. it can take a toll on you. breaks are just as necessary and to say it's a thing that has to be re-learned is... sickening. hooray for living in a Corporate (clash) society, fellas.

one thing i can say is that i absolutely headcanon that cathal has adhd - though, maybe not the same type i do. i do not think he gets randomly hyper and wants to (and does) jump around everywhere and blurt things out randomly and impulsively. cathal here has the low energy, yknow.

i like that a lot of the content around him doesnt even describe him with the words "lazy" and "sleepy" instead.

every day is the same... even if his job is relatively simple, just watching over the camera feed - it's definitely boring... and having to do it every day is not rewarding. and being mostly alone and without consequence, he gives into wanting to do something else. he's got these huge screens and a room to himself, and he loves watching shows and cartoons... so he's gonna do that. it's more fun. it's stimulating. and especially with his dad being the one to give him his position, he knows that he's got nothing to really worry about there.

i also think it's a bit hard to be motivated knowing that... this war between the cogs and toons is just. endless. hell, again, he has to see his dad *everyday* be attacked by them. his body damaged after the fall - only to be fixed again. rinse and repeat. i would too, find it pointless. especially if you're like cathal, since i pointed out before that he is very kind and caring towards the other cogs. he's also thoughtful, noting that yknow... a lot of stairs to get to his room.

why do all that when you can chill... and feel good. do something that feels nice...

i don't have any names for this, but with how sleepy he usually is, that's definitely a thing to consider too. and just, from experience... being tired and/or sleepy it... dismotivates you even more. its so hard to start tasks even if you *want* to do them. and considering cathal mooost likely doesn't want to do his work on his own - then these tasks can be just. impossible to start.

like, i have struggled with this my entire life myself, just because of my adhd screwing with everything, but after getting covid and most definitely getting a form of chronic exhaustion from it.. things have been even harder. i pull myself through day and i barely have the energy to even start anything. sometimes i dont even do anything all day and... woops! still no mood or energy to do anything. i just work on random bursts of motivation and things that captivate me...

not sure how it relates to cathal, but, hey, if im personal here ill ramble about it too because WOW it has been biting me in the ass and i need to speak to Professionals About It

like... i dont think hes being "lazy" willingly, yknow? theres a reason behind it. it definitely is just... being sleepy, the comfort... the fun and stimulation doing something fun he's interested in (his shows) are just... stronger desires and way easier for him to get to. why struggle through something when it takes up all your energy, and then you feel no reward for it? yeah. exactly. even just "not feeling like it" is a reson. "not having energy" is a reason. hey, are these things to get better about if needed? certainly. i wish i could get help with this, it would help me in my life so so much. but should it be seen as ENTIRELY negative and as being a "hinder to society". hell nah. and i think thats swag. cathal is swag he can do this, good for him lmaooo. my brain is deteriorating i apologize.

there was... another thing i wanted to say, but i forgot. so i'll move on.

but just... yeah. i dont think cathal is just lazy. i dont believe in "laziness". he's got reasons for why he prefers naps and just... watching tv instead of doing his work. perhaps he does want to do these things, but gave up on trying. its not worth the effort, it does not feel good. its not stimulating enough to keep him going.

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[mollyjames]

Even in food service, there is the demand for exponential growth. Each store has a profit target you're expected to hit every quarter. Each quarter the target gets bigger and bigger. The only way to make sure you hit or exceed that target is to increase sales or cut costs. Sales can only go so far though, so at a certain point there is the understandable temptation (not justifiable, but understandable) for your manager to start cutting hours. Once they do, your location has entered a Death Spiral.

The thing about the Death Spiral is it is nearly impossible to escape. It starts innocuous enough, with a few hours getting shaved off every week. And true enough at first you probably didn't need those hours. They were the slack, the extra hands that helped distribute the work and made it easier on everyone. You might not even notice they're gone. Maybe the morning rush is a little harder to handle, maybe there isn't as much time to chat as there used to be. But on the whole nothing has changed. You're still hitting your sales quota and, hey, everyone seems to be working a little harder. That's good, right?

Then the next quarter rolls around. You exceeded your quota. Upper management is very excited. But now your new quota is even higher than it would have been if you had simply performed to expectations. You raise prices a bit, push more expensive drinks, and sure, cut a few more hours. Bit by bit the slack gets tighter. The fat gets trimmed. All because continual growth, continual improvement, is not just demanded, but expected.

The endgame of the Death Spiral is the expectation that every worker will operate at 100% efficacy 100% of of the time, and that nothing will go wrong ever. It never reaches this point, as any food service worker will tell you, shit goes wrong. Service gets worse, you lose a few customers, and you miss your quota. This is the point of no return, because the only way to solve the problem is to add more hours. But there's no way upper management will approve spending more money. On a failing store? Don't be ridiculous. Maybe get those numbers up and we'll consider adding hours back. But the only way to get those numbers up is with no hours. It's a Catch-22. You're trapped. Slowly, inevitably, the store fails, and then closes.

The Death Spiral is a doomed strategy, but it is the one corporations push in response to investor pressure. It tricks workers into more work for the promise of relief later, if they do well and succeed, not realizing they'll only be asked to do even more next time. So how do you fight it? Know your worth. Don't let anyone give you more work without some kind of kickback. Don't fool yourself into thinking that being indispensable will lead to a reward later.

But the best defense? Join a union.