#bad anons get thrown in the pit

[boimann]

ask an anon of tumblr, I'd like to apologize for the anon who yelled at you for not doing line art. We anons do not condone that disgraceful behavior and he is not accepted in the anon community. Thank you for your time and have a good day.

thank you for the apology even tho you didn't need to :)

I still love you all anons of tumblr and you're always welcome in my ask box

that whole situation is just very funny to me, like why get mad at something so inconsequential as the lack of line art??? anyway have a great day anon, thank you for dropping by :)

[yujikuna]

I wonder if you’d rather fix Toji or make him worse?

i have no interest in having a toxic relationship with toji im fixing that man. toji is like a stray cat in the sense that at first he comes and goes as he pleases and is slightly a nuisance and wants to take advantage of any kindness shown to him yet lashes out and runs away if you pet him the wrong way. eventually comes slinking back ready to cause problems again and is so surprised when the door is open and dinner is almost ready that he just ends up staying.

[f1fantasys]

I‘ve got this little idea where Lando is angry about having to give the win to Oscar and he takes his anger out on reader but then Oscar calls Lando when they are in the middle of sonething ;) and Lando eventually picks up :D I don’t know if you like this

Thank you for this! I love it. Hope you enjoy it anon, I hope it's what you were hoping for. Remember - requests are always open.

Post Race

Warnings - mild angst, smut, fingering, m and f receiving oral, swearing

2.1K

Today's race was a complete shitshow. Watching it was one thing, but listening to it was a whole other ballgame. Hearing how the pit wall lied, manipulated and guilt tripped Lando was heartbreaking to hear. Lando was already a sensitive being, but it was safe to say - sensitive or not - no driver deserved this kind of treatment from their own team.

You knew Lando was going to be upset, take the blame on himself for everything, but it was now your job to make him understand that none of today was his fault, and he was the one fucked over.

As he drove into his P2 place you stood watching him from the barriers. You expected to see him with a defeated look on his face, eyes sad as they usually would be after coming so close to a win and having it snatched away from him. But you didn't see any of that. Here was an angry Lando, pissed off, body language completely not what you were expecting.

He walked up to where his mechanics and you were standing. He threw words of anger, not directly to them, but rather for the team. When he looked at you his eyes bore into yours, not softening sweetly as they usually do when he looks at you. This was a very pissed off man standing in front of you, and you knew nothing you said at this moment was going to calm him down. You just bit your lip and gave his bicep a squeeze, before he was called for his interview and the podium.

As soon as that was done Lando went to finish up his other interviews. You waited for him in his drivers' room, trying to find a way to calm your own nerves and be prepared for whatever emotions Lando was going to go through.

After some time you heard Lando's voice getting louder, setting his frustrations out on Jon, about the race, about how it wasn't Oscar's race to win. His room door flew open before he quickly came inside and shut the door behind him.

''Lando -'''you started, but he cut your off.

''Just don't!. We're leaving. Flying back home. Don't want to spend another minute here'' he threw harshly at you.

''Okay, but baby please -''

''Fuck Y/N, just stop talking'' he cut you off again.

You gulped and just nodded your head, gathering your things, not saying another word. You knew his anger wasn't towards you. Basically any one who came into contact with him since the race ended has had his anger thrown at them. And you honestly struggled to find any reason to blame him.

The flight home was a silent one. You kept your distance knowing he would come to you when he was ready.

Once back at your shared apartment you hoped the comfort of the place would calm Lando down and let you be there for him.

He immediately started to unpack his bags, it was always the first thing he did once he was back home after a bad race.

''Lan I'm going for a shower'' you quietly told him as you stepped into the bathroom and started stripping when he didn't say anything back.

The warm water instantly calmed your tense body, and it had you involuntarily moaning with how good it felt.

What you didn't know was Lando had heard your moans, and for a second got angrier at the thought that you were pleasuring yourself when he was literally in the next room.

The bathroom door flew open and banged against the wall, causing you to jump and shudder with a fright.

''What the fuck are you doing?'' Lando asked, voice laced with venom, although his actions had your mind confused because he started stripping himself.

''I-What?'' you asked, mind blurred with what was going on.

He opened the shower door and you saw him in all his glory. Face red with anger, muscles taunt, and his god damn thick girth standing hard and tall, angrier than his face. His eyes shamelessly roamed your body, which had you suddenly dripped with want.

He stepped into the shower and pushed you against the wall roughly, but not enough to hurt you.

You cupped your chin and held it up so your face was gazing up at his.

''Touching yourself? When I'm right here?'' he asked, his voice and his hold on you softening instantly.

''What?'' you whispered, mind still confused at everything thats' happened in the last minute or so.

Lando's bought his fingers to toy with your cunt, slipping through your folds roughly.

''Lan oh uh'' you breathed, closing your eyes and enjoying what he was doing to you.

''Don't oh me'' he said, voice not as soft now.

''Lan, wasn't touching myself. Just felt relieved with the hot water on my body'' you breathed out, trying to grind yourself on his fingers.

''Say what you want babygirl'' he said, before leaning down to take the breath out of you in a heated, rough kiss. While at the same time he slipped two fingers through your entrance and set a relentless pace.

You moaned into him and you wrapped your arms around his head and pulled at his curls, edging him on to continue.

''Wasn't touching myself Lan'' you repeated as you pulled back for air. ''Not when I have you for that'' you whispered, pulling him in again.

He sped up his fingers and curled them so precisely so he was suddenly hitting that spongy spot inside you that sent you trembling over the edge, releasing your cum all over his hand while biting on his lower lip to ride through the pleasure.

''Look at you, dripping like this for me'' he roughly said before kissing you again and letting his tongue explore your mouth. All you could do was moan into the kiss again, trying to keep your body at bay from your unexpected orgasm.

Lando then pushed you down to your knees before pumping himself. You looked at his girth, saw how red and hard he was. The vein on the side looking like it was about to explode. You held onto his thighs as Lando pushed himself into your mouth, and hissing at the contact of your tongue on him.

He fucked into your mouth violently, hitting the back of your throat with each thrust which in turn had to gagging around him. Your mouth a mess of spit dripping down your chin.

You moaned around him again, creating a vibration at everything he was feeling, when he started talking again, this time about the race.

''Got fucked over by my own fucking team again, but at least I can come home and fuck you over now''

You moaned at his words, rubbing your thighs together slightly.

''That what you want huh? Already desperate for my cock, aren't you?'' you said as he slammed into your mouth again.

''Hmm mm'' you said, Lando not giving you a chance to say anything back.

You could feel his movements getting sloppier and clumsy, he was close, and you eagerly waited to taste him.

Suddenly though, he pulled out of your mouth. You whined in response when you saw hum shut the water off and step out the shower, pulling you behind him.

He quickly dried both of your bodies before he roughly picked you up by your ass and walked back into your bedroom, throwing you on the bed.

Lando spread your legs apart and wasted to time in running his cock through your folds before hammering into your cunt, bottoming out in one thrust.

''Fuck, Lando!'' you shrieked, body shuddering at the intrusion.

He didn't say a word. He just bought his hand to your throat and lightly put his pressure on it, using it to set a fast and rough pace, while his tongue settled on your hard nipples, biting and tugging on them.

''Yes Lan, god, feels amazing, fuck me harder, please'' you begged him, nails digging into the muscles on his back, probably even drawing blood from how hard you were scratching him.

He chuckled sarcastically. ''Harder, she says'' before his movements rapidly increased, making you a moaning mess underneath him.

That was until the sound of Lando's phone ringing on his beside halted your movements.

Lando scoffed when he saw who was calling him.

''Fucking pathetic. Steals my win from me then has the audacity to phone me while I'm fucking my girl''

You couldn't help but smile at the mention of being ''his girl'' while he was this riled up.

But you knew Lando had to speak to Oscar at some point. Might as well get it over and done with.

''Lan answer it, talk to him. You need to'' you cooed.

But Lando showed no signs of stopping fucking into you.

''He can fuck off. Don't wanna speak to him right now'' Lando angrily threw back at you.

While all this was going on you couldn't hold back your orgasm, so you violently gushed all over Lando's cock, moaning out his name, surely for the neighbors to hear.

As Lando chased his own release his phone started ringing again. This time though he held his hand over your mouth to muffle your moans and answered Oscar's call, not slowly his movements whatsoever.

''Osc'' he sarcastically threw through the call. He had it on loudspeaker so as much as you wanted to go into a phase of bliss, you listened in.

''Lando'' Oscar said, voice sounding weary, while Lando still pounded into you, eyes on yours.

''I just listened to everything. The on boards, everything. If I had known they were lying to you about your tyres and everything I wouldn't have wanted my first win like this. I didn't know you had a glitch at the start. Seriously, i hate that I took a win from you''

''Lando?'' he asked when Lando didn't reply, instead picked up his breathing into his phone.

''Fuck. I-I'' Lando panted, movements coming to halt.

''It's not your fault Oscar. The team fucked both of us today. But you deserved the win. Enjoy it'' Lando cooed back.

You couldn't help but admire Lando's humanity. He truly was such a selfless, incredible person.

''Yeah but still. Shit day for the both of us'' Oscar replied back.

Lando's eyes on you grew soft and tender for the first time since the race ended.

''Mate. We'll chat soon. But seriously, you only win for the first time once, so take it and enjoy it''

''Thanks'' Oscar said, and if he wanted to say anymore you wouldn't have heard it because Lando ended the call and threw his phone to the other side of the bed.

He leaned down and locked his lips with yours in a tender kiss, before he let all his weight fall on you and started to thrust into you again, not fucking you, but just making love to you.

You held his face in your hands and kissed him again, slow and deep, your own tongue slipping into his mouth and memorizing every inch of him.

Within minutes you had your body shaking underneath him, your warm juices sliding across his aching dick.

''Lan, fuck'' you moaned out.

''Fuck y/n, so frickin tight for me'' he whispered before his cock started twitching inside of you and in no time you felt him release his milky cum to fill you up. He moaned into your ear as he rode through his orgasm as you just wrapped your arms around him and held him as close as possible.

You stayed like that for a few minutes until he started softening, so he pulled out, the both of you moaning at the loss of contact.

Lando layed beside you and pulled you to his side.

''Lando-''

''Wait, I'm sorry for being angry at you. You know it wasn't you. It was the fucking team, and I'm not okay with how they treated me today. But thank you for being there for me. I love you so much''

''Lan I love you too. You're amazing and I swear I fall more in love with you every second of every day. You'll get that win soon enough. I know it. Until then, hold onto my love for you''

He kissed your forehead, then chuckled.

''What's so funny?'' you asked, giggling at him.

''And thank you for moaning in the shower. Fucking thought you were getting yourself off in there''

''Hmmm Lan, you should know better by now. Can't get myself off when I can have you there to fuck me whenever I want'' you both chuckled and kissed again.

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen deal with your period cramps

requested by anon: "Would it be ok for you to write : How would Seventeen react and help with bad period cramps ? (I am currently on my period and its killing me... I can barely stay up, cramps are hurting as hell, I have nausea, hell I feel the worst...)"

notes: tw for menstruation pain, reader therefore has a uterus

masterlist

seungcheol:

tbh he's kinda a little bit Clueless, but he tries his best. cannot fathom the amount of pain you're in, but he does his research and immediately jumps up to boil water for a hot water bottle the second you tell him you're on your period. is confused by the idea of pre-menstrual syndrome n thinks that it's very unfair: bc you can be in pain???? even before the actual menstruation itself???? that sounds terrible :((( always has his arms open for a hug

jeonghan:

spots its arrival better than you. can tell when your period is coming like some sort of seer. has a cupboard full of chocolates and snacks which he stocks up constantly and allows you to take your pick of whatever you feel like having when you're on your period. insists that you don't have to do anything while you're going through the worst of your cramps, tells you to just lie down w the hot water bottle he made for you n he'll do whatever you need okay? 

joshua:

you Need to tell this man whenever your period starts bc otherwise he'll get upset that his calendar is all messed up :(( i firmly believe shua is the typa guy to keep track of your schedules for you, even if your cycle isn't regular. does Everything you want. you wanna eat a whole tub of Celebrations? he's rooting for you. need to cry bc the world is just too frustrating? tell him what movie you wanna cry to, he'll stream it illegally if that's what it takes. will probably also end up crying w you, but hey, we love a supportive guy <3

junhui:

curses the menstruation gods every time you tell him you're having cramps again. is essentially trying to stuff you full of painkillers the entire day bc he hates the idea of you being in pain </3 wanted to buy one of those period cramp simulator machines to see how bad it was for you, ended up chickening out when you told him vv seriously that it was like being thrown into the pits of hell. isn't allowed near the kettle to boil water for you (due to previous Mishaps), so he'll give you a pillow to put over your stomach and hug you in his arms for warmth

hoshi:

is confused for all of two seconds every time you tell him you're having rlly bad cramps (again?? didn't you have them last month??) before it clicks in his head. coos and baby-talks to you, offering his shoulder for you to sleep on if the physical contact will help. builds you a pillow fort to get comfortable in practically every single time. you had a really bad headache one month, and so now he's constantly talking in a hoarse whisper when your cramps are bad

wonwoo:

he's not Entirely sure what to do, but he does know that period pain can often manifest itself in mood swings, so he's always extra caring and considerate around your time of the month. will Let himself be yelled at if you do end up getting frustrated, then will hug you and pat your hair to help you calm down after. makes hot water for all the hot water bottles that you're ever gonna need. 

woozi:

makes sure you take your painkillers on time, and also makes sure you eat. he's heard from his mom that loss of appetite can happen often during periods, especially when cramps are bad, and so he encourages you to eat foods with lots of magnesium and nitrates in it. will hug you if the cramps are really bad and you're practically crawling to him in tears. will probably hug you even if you're only pouting and talking in a sad voice tho, tbh. 

minghao:

he researched that milk chocolate and white chocolate increase cramps pain, and so now he only ever gives you dark chocolate that's 60% cacao and above. has encouraged you to take up meditation when you're not on your period, saying it'll help strengthen you. you're still not entirely sure it's working, but then again, it's better to try than not. swaddles you in fluffy blankets and cushions bc seungcheol stole the hot water bottle to help with his indigestion or something

mingyu:

he's a lil confused, but he means well. carries you bridal-style everywhere you wanna go. searched up the types of foods best to eat to help with period cramps, and cooks food with lots and lots of spinach in it. regardless of whether you like it or not, because it's good for you and makes you feel better. spoon-feeds you the soup he makes, asks if it's making you feel warm inside with his adorable bright eyes

dokyeom:

has a little corner in the bottom of his wardrobe full of sanitary pad packages, bc one time he panicked when you asked him to buy you some and practically cleared the whole shelf of them. also has like 3 boxes of chocolates stacked on top of them bc of that same time where he panicked and ended up buying too many. as a result, always has supplies whenever you need them. is a little clueless too, but he's willing to help w lots of hugs and warmth!! 

seungkwan:

Knows your menstruation cycle for you. frets if you're a few of days early or a few of days late. if you have an irregular cycle, then oh god he's analysing everything to see if there's any sort of pattern. ngl he's a little nervous of you when you're on your period, but he's always ready to open his arms for you to draw you in for a hug if you need. starts crying if you end up crying bc of the pain/ mood swings, bc he's an empath okay n he feels your pain so bad

vernon:

i get the feeling he's like. the hidden pro at dealing with cramps. you tell him that you're hurting, and he's already boiled the kettle to make you a hot water bottle, arms laden with snacks and blankets and do you wanna come into his room to relax and watch the new movie he's fixated on or do you wanna just go to your room by yourself and sleep? big encourager of sleeping through cramps, bc he swears it helps so much and actually. he is so right it really does

chan:

went through like five different brands of paracetamol with you during your previous cramps to see which one was the best n lasted the longest. steals the expensive chocolates from mingyu's stash bc really, the guy has far too much and it's more deserving to go to you when you're in pain and also pls share w him as a thankyou for getting them for you. offers to run you a bubble bath to help you relax, often forgets about the bath while he's doing other stuff and almost makes it overflow

request guidelines

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

See Me, I See You (m, cold)

I present unto you all: a fic that has nothing to do with the fic I promised weeks ago!!! (sorry) I got some GREAT prompts from that prompt list in my inbox and I used a bunch of them in this fic (mostly anons, but @sniction-fiction and @sneezycold19 both of your prompts are featured in this).

Greyson gets a cold, Elijah catches it...that's pretty much it! No real plot just colds and vibes. Oh, and there's a little bit of ~angst~ thrown in because it's me. I hope you guys enjoy it <3

cw: male, colds, contagion, fevers. 3k-ish words under the cut. Let me know what y'all think!

See Me, I See You

Greyson shifted from foot to foot in the cold of the alleyway, willing Elijah to text him back. He read the text over again for the third time, hoping it sounded nonchalant enough to avoid his boss’s wrath.

heyyy, are you on your way in?

It was already ten in the morning; normally, Elijah was already at the restaurant by now. Normally, his boss wasn’t given the chance to be aware of Greyson’s chronic key-losing issue.

Three minutes passed. His fingers were starting to tingle. Did you leave your gloves wherever you left your fuckin’ keys, moron? Four minutes. Five. C’mon, Elijah, I’m getting desperate.

Finally, at the six minute mark, a text from his boss popped up. I was planning on taking today off. Why, do you need something?

“Fuck,” Greyson muttered, pulling a frozen hand down his face. Of all days, why was today the one Elijah decided to take off?

There was, Greyson decided after a few more freezing minutes pacing the alleyway, nothing to do but tell the truth. Bracing himself for the explosion, Greyson typed out a message. uhhh...kinda. I may or may not have misplaced my keys…

By some sort of stroke of either insanely terrible timing or the worst luck known to man, the minute Greyson pressed the arrow to send his message, a second text from Elijah came through. Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me, Greyson thought, his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach as he read the text from his boss.

I caught your fckn cold, so if you need something can it wait til tomorrow?

***

On Saturday, Greyson couldn’t stop sneezing.

“Hh-! HhIGSTHH-ue! HTSHH!” For the third time in an hour, Greyson wrenched into his elbow, away from the prep table. He groaned, annoyed – prepping this tasting menu for twenty was going to take ten times longer than normal if he couldn’t get this shit under control.

“Bless, bless,” Elijah said, distractedly leafing through the inventory papers on his clipboard. “Coming down with something?”

Greyson cleared his throat, pawed at his nose. Shrugged. “Does it matter? It’s Saturday. Not like I could leave if I wanted to.” The chef washed his hands in the sink near their office, sniffling. He trudged back to his prep, checked his watch – ten thirty AM. Matt was scheduled for noon, and Greyson could already taste the cigarette he was going to savor when his sous took over this prep.

“Mmm, snippy,” Elijah said, scribbling something on the inventory sheets. “Must be a pretty bad one.”

“The fuck are you on about?” Greyson asked, sinking his knife back into the yellowtail he was slicing. He sucked in through his nose, again, again, again to keep from contaminating the fish – on the third sniff, he ducked under the table to protect his product. “HGSTHHZUE! Fuck.”

“That cold,” Elijah said, finally looking up from his paperwork. “It must be pretty bad if you’re in such a shit mood.” Greyson’s face colored. He wiped his nose on his sleeve, flipped his boss the bird. Elijah just shrugged.

“Do you want a coffee? Or a tea, or something?” he asked, pushing himself out of his chair and approaching the chef. Greyson had gone back to thinly slicing the hamachi; he didn’t answer. “Hellooo, earth to Grey -”

“HTSHH! Huh-! HhITSZHH-ue!” Greyson turned toward Elijah, sneezing into his elbow once more to avoid the fish. Elijah jumped out of the way just in time.

“Christ, warn a guy, won’t you?” he said, checking his outfit for signs of spray. Greyson cleared his throat, put his knife back on the prep table, and slunk to the office in search of a tissue.

“Get outta the splash zone if you don’t want to get wet,” he muttered, blowing his nose and tossing the tissue. “Ndo, I don’t want any coffee or tea. I just want to get this shit done so I can have a cigarette.” The chef washed his hands again, and took his place at the prep table once more. At this point, this won’t be done until next fuckin’ week, he thought, exhausted.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Elijah asked, leaning on the prep table. Greyson deadpanned his boss, hoping the knife in his hand made him look at least a little threatening.

“Do I think what is a good idea?”

“A cigarette.”

“I always think a cigarette is a good idea. Don’t you?”

Elijah shrugged again, eyes trained on the knife Greyson slid through the fish. “I mean, usually. When I’m not sick as hell, absolutely.” The two of them caught eyes then, a challenge. Their stares stayed locked until Greyson was forced to turn away to cough. Elijah made a noise in the back of his throat, a mix between a laugh and a coo of pity.

“Don’t fuckin’ patronize me,” Greyson growled, his voice sticky and rough already. The backs of his eyes burned, his throat felt swollen, and his joints were aching; he wasn’t ready to admit it, but Elijah’s perception was correct. He felt like shit.

“I’m not patronizing you, Chef,” Elijah promised, pulling something out of his back pocket. “C’mon. Take a break.” He waved the pack of cigarettes he’d produced in front of Greyson’s face, motioned toward the back door. “I’ll let you bum one.”

Greyson, too tired to continue the fight, just nodded. “Alright,” he said, untying his apron. “Thangks.”

Elijah took in a deep breath, ready to say something, but instead just sighed. “Don’t mention it.”

***

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Greyson thought as he re-read his boss’s text. If Greyson knew one thing about Elijah, it was this: he’d have to be down bad to take an unscheduled day off of work. And for him to admit to illness, unprompted? The man must have been on his death bed.

Quick as he could, Greyson began typing out a response.

ah, fuck, sorry boss. don’t worry about it, I’ll text matt. sorry to bother you, hope youre ok.

Greyson sent the text, only to be filled with dread all over again when Elijah answered back immediately.

I thought Matt and Mark were doing that off property event in rochester today?

Fucking shit, Greyson thought pressing his head to the freezing cold of the back kitchen door. His mind, mocking, flashed him back to last night; Matt and Mark packing up the company van with food for a Christmas dinner one of their regulars was hosting at his mansion in the country. Greyson had waved them goodbye, told Matt to call him if he had any questions on the dishes they’d decided he’d make. In his panic, Greyson must have blacked it out.

oh, he typed to his boss. yeah, I guess they are. no worries, im sure my keys are in my apartment ill just run back and grab them.

His apartment, both of them knew, was a forty minute train ride from the restaurant. Cooks would begin showing up in forty-five minutes. The pit in Greyson’s stomach grew larger still when the bubbles that signaled Elijah typing popped up and went away, popped up and went away.

Finally, the text they both knew was coming but ate Greyson alive even so: I can stop by and let you in. give me 20 minutes.

***

By Sunday, Greyson was fairly sure he was dying.

First, he was freezing; when he came in at the ass-crack of dawn that morning to prepare for Sunday brunch, Elijah had barely been able to stifle a laugh.

“Um,” his boss said, raising an eyebrow, “what are you, uh… wearing?”

Greyson flashed Elijah a watery glare before his eyes glazed over and he pitched forward into the scarf the was wrapped tightly around his neck. “Hh...hhIGTSZH-ue! ETSCHH-ue! Huh -! hh...hhNGSTHH-ue!” He sniffled and wiped his nose on the wool of the scarf before addressing his boss.

“A scarf,” he said, his voice a low monotone. “I’mb cold.”

Elijah nodded slowly, taking the chef in. His hood was pulled over his long, shaggy, unwashed blond waves; his eyes were red-rimmed, dark-circled, and wet with irritation; the bow under his nose was damp and scarlet from wiping, and none of this was to mention the scarf-turned-tissue that had clearly seen better days. “I think… I think you should go home, Chef,” he said, choosing his words carefully.

Greyson didn’t answer; instead, he turned away to cough into the germ-infested scarf. After a few moments of coughing, her turned back and shook his head. “Brunch,” he rasped, attempting to clear his throat.

“Let’s call Matt in,” Elijah said.

“He’s workigg dinner,” Greyson insisted. Elijah pressed his fingers into his eyes, let out a long sigh.

“I think one day of working double shifts isn’t going to kill him,” Elijah said, giving Greyson a pointed look.

“I’mb ndot making my employees work a double shift whend I’m ndot,” Greyson said. “That’s ndot how I operate.”

“Greyson,” Elijah said, his temper beginning to flare, “you sound absolutely fucking awful. And you can barely stand. How do you plan on prepping and executing brunch when you’re swaying on your feet, hmm?”

There was a silence that stood between them then. It ballooned, filling the kitchen, begging one of them to break it. Finally, Greyson’s body took over; he shuddered, dipped back into his scarf and turned away from Elijah.

“Hh-ETSCHH-ue! HUTSHH-ue! Huh...Hh! Hh...hnnn.” Greyson glanced blearily at the cold fluorescent lights in the kitchen, trying to coax the last sneeze out. “Huh-! hnn...hh, huhhh…”

“For God’s sake, Greyson,” Elijah said, allowing the frustration to seep into his voice. “Would you just fucking snee -”

“HRRRTSHHH-ue!” The last one tore out of the chef, left him dazed and panting, turned into a flurry of wet coughs. Elijah winced, but took a few steps forward and placed a hand on Greyson’s forehead. Greyson didn’t have it in him to stop his boss.

“Wow,” Elijah said, raising his eyebrows as he gently pulled his hand away from Greyson’s head. “That’s some fever you’re sporting, kid.”

Greyson felt his eyes begin to water; he bit the inside of his cheek, looked away, and took in as deep a breath as he could without making himself cough again.

“Mbaybe… maybe we could call Mbatt in for brunch just this once.”

***

The twenty minute wait was excruciating.

To keep warm, and to distract himself, Greyson paced from one side of the alleyway to the other, trying to remember whether he’d noticed signs of Elijah getting sick the evening before. His boss was fairly talented at keeping illnesses under wraps in the beginning stages, but was there really a way he’d gone from fine enough to keep it under wraps to so ill he needed the day off in twelve hours? Greyson thought back to the end of last week, when he’d been hit head-on with the cold from hell his boss was now gifted with; it had moved quickly, sure, but definitely not that quickly.

Elijah had certainly been quiet last night, but that tended to be par for the course when they were busy. It had been extra busy, especially for a Tuesday, so Greyson hadn’t really seen much of Elijah. Guilt coursed through his body, and he pulled out his phone once again to text Matt and Mark in a group chat.

hey, guys. hope you’re ready for your event tonight, can’t wait to hear about it. random question for both of u: did elijah seem alright to you both last night?

The wait for a text back wasn’t long; the two younger managers were clearly bored. With several hours to go until their dinner and everything pre-prepped, they were most likely just hanging out on their phones in the spare bedroom they were staying in.

are you serious? Matt’s text came through first. Then, a moment after, one from Mark.

I mean...if by ‘alright’ you mean pissed off and sick then ya I guess lmao.

Greyson’s heartbeat thumped in his ears. He typed back quickly, pointedly. he was sick last night?

chef, u really had the blinders on big time last night lol, Matt texted back.

Which makes sense, it was busy! Mark’s text said, an attempt to cushion the blow. But ya he was for sure coming down with something. Is he ok today?

Before he could type out a response, Elijah’s car turned into the alleyway. Greyson put his phone away and waved, guilty. Time to face the music.

***

Monday, thankfully, was like a salve to Sunday’s burn.

“Morning, Chef,” Elijah said, joining Greyson in their shared office. Greyson pulled out one of his headphones to return the greeting, smiled at his boss.

“Mborning,” he said, his voice still cracked and congested.

“How’re you feeling?” Elijah asked, cutting straight to the chase. Greyson rolled his eyes, shrugged. Smiled a bit.

“Better,” he said, sheepishly. “Much better. Thangks for holding down the fort yesterday, I really owe you one.”

Elijah laughed as he clicked his mouse to wake his computer. “Chef, it’s technically my fort. It’s my job to hold it down.”

“Still.”

The GM nudged his friend, playful. “Don’t mention it,” he said. “Glad you’re feeling better. I was worried you weren’t going to make it through the night.”

Greyson barked out a laugh that turned into a soupy-sounding cough. “You’re so fuckin’ dramatic,” he said. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Mmm,” Elijah murmured. “That’s what we’re classifying as ‘not that bad’ now? That’s wild. Don’t show me ‘bad’, okay? I don’t think my little heart can handle it.”

Greyson flipped Elijah off at that, and turned back to his computer. The two of them sat, working silently except for the occasional riff or cough from Greyson, until it was time to get ready for service.

All was well. At least, that’s what Greyson thought.

***

“HhhNGSTH-uh! HTSHH-uhn! Hh...hhRTTSHH-oo!”

Ah, fuck, Greyson thought as he watched Elijah slip out of his car. I’m an ass.

***

On Tuesday, there were a myriad of clues Greyson didn’t notice.

He didn’t notice the Elijah slunk into the kitchen an hour later than he normally did; unheard of for him. The chef had been busy prepping when his boss made his way to their office and sunk into his chair, fingers pressed into his aching eye sockets.

“Morning, boss,” Mark said, stopping into the office. Elijah looked up, bleary, and Mark’s face shifted into one of concern. “You alright?”

“Greyson’s fuckin’ cold,” he muttered, coughing hard into his elbow. “It’s a fuckin’ bear.”

Mark put an easy hand on his boss’s forehead, his face knotted with anxiety. “Take anything?” he asked. Elijah shook his head.

“Not yet,” he said. “But I will. Don’t worry.”

He didn’t notice when Elijah ducked out back to have a drawn-out fit of sneezing; Greyson was inside, lecturing Matt and Mark on exactly how to put together the dinner they were going to be doing in Rochester the next day when his boss pushed outside into the cold of the alley. Elijah had managed to collect himself just as Greyson followed him out the back kitchen doors.

“Christ,” Greyson said shaking his head and sitting down on a milk crate next to his boss. “Sometimes, man. This job is like running a fuckin’ daycare.”

Elijah nodded, unsure of how his voice would sound if he spoke. They sat in silence for a few moments, until Greyson produced a pack of cigarettes.

“Bum one?” he asked Elijah, shaking two from the pack. “I owe you.”

“Sure,” Elijah said, his voice cracking on the single syllable. Greyson lit them both up, didn’t mention his boss’s voice. He took a long drag while Elijah ducked into his elbow.

“NTSH! GTSH! HTSH!” Elijah stifled a volley of sneezes into his shirt, sat up near-gasping. He turned toward Greyson, stared at his friend, waiting – what for, he wasn’t entirely sure. Pity? Sympathy? Acknowledgment?

Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t get it. Greyson stubbed out his cigarette and stood without a word. “See you back in there, boss,” he said.

The un-smoked cigarette hung from Elijah’s fingers, burning bright in his hand. He sneezed once, uncovered, creating a cloud of condensation in front of his face. He stubbed the cigarette out, choked back a cough, and headed back inside.

Greyson didn’t even notice when, at nine PM, Elijah parked himself in their closed-off private dining room and laid his head down on the stripped table, cool marble on his overheated face.

“Lij? Boss?” Elijah heard the voice come in before he could sit himself upright. He turned blearily towards the door and saw Matt standing in the doorway, his face painted with concern.

“Shit, Lij, you look like fuckin’ hell,” Matt said, sitting next to Elijah. “I mean, Mark said you weren’t well but Jesus Christ.”

“’m okay,” Elijah shrugged, and turned away from Matt. “Huh! HhIGSTZH-oo! ITSHZH-uh!” He hitched in preparation of another sneeze, sighed when it escaped him.

“Bless you,” Matt said. “I came in to tell you that Greyson wanted your input on a dish he’s working on in the back, but I’ll tell him to fuck off. You need to go home.”

Wanted input on a dish. Elijah would have snorted if he was sure it wouldn’t have ended in a disaster of a mess; of course he wanted his input. The man was in the fucking clouds, apparently; too high to realize he’d left his best friend sunk in the muck that was this nightmare of a headcold.

“That would be great, Mbatt,” Elijah said, attempting a smile. “Thangk you.”

Greyson didn’t even notice, Elijah knew without knowing, that his boss had left without saying goodnight.

***

“Elijah, fuck, dude I’m so sorry for dragging you out here.”

The GM just shrugged, clearly too tired and ill to make a quip. He ran the sleeve of his NYU sweatshirt under his running nose and moved slowly towards the back door. The keys shook in his hand; it took what felt like an eon to open it.

Finally, the door swung open. “You’re in,” Elijah said, his voice barely a whisper. “Do you thingk you cand handle tondight on your own?”

“Yeah, of course, boss, but… shit. Lij, I’m so sorry dude. I can’t believe I didn’t notice you were sick, I mean -”

Elijah held up a hand to stop the chef’s babbling. “Grey,” he rasped, “it’s okay. We’ll call it you getti’g even at mbe for ndever ndoticing you were sick when you first started.”

“That was six years ago. You had an excuse, you didn’t even know me; I know you, I know when you’re sick, I feel like such an ass. I’ve been wracking my brain, pacing around back here trying to figure out how I didn’t realize -”

“HTSHH-oo! ETSCHHH-uh!” Elijah cut the chef off again, folded in half, his face in his sleeve. He sucked in through his nose, stood slowly.

“Bless,” Greyson said, guiltily.

“Thangks,” Elijah said. “And it’s okay. Ndo one is infallible.” He shivered, rubbed his arms with his hands. Greyson held the door open.

“Obviously if you don’t want to stay you don’t have to,” he said, “but… if you want to hang for a bit, I can make you some tea? Or soup? Make it up to you for coming out here because of my stupidity?”

Elijah attempted a scoff that ended in a cough. “Greyson. It’s really okay.”

“I feel badly,” Greyson admitted. They stood locked in that old game of chicken yet again. This time, it was Elijah that broke the spell.

“HRRRSHH-uhh! Goddamn,” he muttered, shaking his head. He looked up at Greyson, forgiveness written on his pallid face. “Mbe too,” he said, stepping into the kitchen. “This cold is a fuckin’ mbonster.”

Greyson laughed, an almost-hysterical sound that made palpable his relief at being forgiven. “Oh, Lij,” he said, closing the door behind them, “no one knows that better than me.”

[muffinsin]

how about some angst with no comfort? How would the sisters react to their female s/o dying in child birth? Would they blame their child? Blame themselves because they impregnated her and because the child would be infected with the Cadou because of them?

-rambunctious anon

Some more angst hm?👀 This got a bit more comfort in it tho cuz I know those 3 would still be good mamas! there ya go everyone!🙌

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

Bela

She is lost for words when she hears you died giving birth. She can’t even process it

For minutes, she stares off into space as she attempts to process it. She just can’t find words or gather her thoughts

She feels sad, and shocked, when it hits her

Then, anger washes over her

She refuses to see your child at first, but this is almost immediately shut down and exposed as nonsense by Alcina

The moment Bela is handed your child, this view changes entirely

The little thing has your eyes

Sporting your eyes and her blonde-golden hair, Bela can’t help but cry and hug the little one close

She’s careful, as if worried she will hurt the little bundle in her arms

The pain she feels doesn’t go away- won’t, for a long time

She feels this pain every time she gazes into her child’s eyes

Still, Bela wants to be strong for her little one. They’re her priority now

In a way, they are a memory of you. Something to remember you by

She wont allow anything to happen to her child. She is protective as hell and will not part with her precious child for the world

Also, Bela is never hesitant to tell stories of you to her little one

At one point she nearly spirals into a pit of self loathing and depression, blaming herself for it all

Her sisters stick by her side to talk this nonsense out of her

With their help, and Alcina’s help, she recovers eventually, no matter how bad it hurts her

Her love for her little one keeps her going

She takes on nutrients to nurse them, and therefore must eat plenty to keep herself healthy.

She cleans to avoid her little one inhaling dust, and takes showers and baths when she washes her precious baby

In a way, your child, what is left of you, still saves her even when she has lost you

Cassandra

Lost, is the most accurate word to describe her

She can’t believe it

She stands by your side, and desperately attempts to bring you back alive

Deep down she knows it’s futile, but she refuses to think of this

After a long hour, she at last comes to the realisation of being helpless. She can’t change what happened

And she fully blames herself. What was she thinking, impregnating you?! Having you bear a cadou-infected baby?!

Her eyes widen at this, remembering your child

She was so busy trying to bring you back to her, she hasn’t even spared the little thing a glance

Sudden fear fills her- what if she’s lost your shared child too?!

Upon storming out of the room and finding the tiny thing in Bela’s arms, she immediately feels more at ease

She truthfully has no idea how to hold the infant. She feels utterly lost, thrown into parenthood without you to guide her

Bela teaches her to adjust her arms and hold the tiny thing. Thankfully, Cassandra learns very quickly

She develops something of a separation anxiety from your baby. She’s scared the child will too be taken from her if she isn’t with them constantly

And so Cassandra sticks with her tiny one 24/7, feeding them and doing her best to try to understand what random cries mean

Speaking of, she is a full sobbing mess at times. She can’t handle the many emotions she feels upon having to raise this child on your own

As time passes, she recognises you in the tiny one. In their smile, their facial features and expressions. It has her smile and cry at the same time

She too, will eventually heal. Still, you are always a sore topic to her- she can never truly get over what happened

Daniela

She’s gleeful when she holds the tiny baby in her arms, giggling and tapping their tiny button nose

She loves their tiny nose, it resembles her own. And their eyes! Golden, just like hers

Their little hands grab at her and she feels so much joy!

She doesn’t understand her family’s grim faces. Your little baby is perfect!

When asked about you, she is told you need rest. Her sisters and mother aren’t entirely sure about telling her just yet

When a day passes, Daniela demands to see you, and they know the truth can no longer be hidden from the redhead

With Bela keeping the tiny one safe and fed, Daniela is told what happened by the rest of her family

The infant starts crying at Daniela’s loud, pained scream that rings out throughout the castle

She demands to see you, and when she does, it nearly breaks her

She doesn’t understand how this could’ve happened

She doesn’t blame her child, but herself. After all, she hasn’t thought this through in her joy to parent a child with you

Daniela is unable to feed for days. Unable to function

For days to two weeks even, she doesn’t see her little one. She can’t even get out of bed

Only when she hears her tiny one cry in the middle of the night does she rise from her bed and find the small thing in her mother’s room

She cradles them into her arms and takes a stroll through the castle. It feels, grounding, and good to get out of her room

When she sees tiny, worried eyes, she promises the little one to always look after them

She promises you, hoping you can hear her

[fallenwhumpee]

Heyyy so I've got 2 prompts in my head, neither is really whump but like hey.

1. Two friends on opposite sides of a fight. Like born to be friemds forced to be enemies. So like the 'good' friend manages to capture the 'bad' friend and has orders from his higher ups to torture him and he really doesn't want to so like they talk, the captured guy does still get pretty beat up cuz like he gets it, until his team comes in to save him. And they're lile lets catch up soon, k? Like i wanna explore the emotional side of this cuz like forced by duty.

2. Second in command plays into bait willingly but the team doesn't know that and thinks they were being reckless but it was all planned. His leader was down, along with his sister like figure, and their second main fighter was busy protecting them so he buys time by letting the enemy capture him and have their way with him. Anything can work, drugging, sedation, restraints (pretty please), injuries, whatever you heart pleases.

Ps. How have you been? Enjoy your time off <3

~🐈‍⬛💜

Im well, just looking for ways to be productive here too while slowly getting my works done.

Both are amazing prompts anon! Please have my try for the first one <3

Loyalty

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Mentioned torture, nosebleed, self-sacrifice.

Right Hand was shaking as they walked down the narrow stairs, their boss following right after them. They knew in that they were starting to seem off. They had to prove that they were loyal again. It was also the truth and what they wanted. They needed their team, and they needed to be in this side of the conflict.

But more than that, they loved their former captain, and now it was threatening their loyalty to their team.

What hurt them the most was that Whumpee didn't need to be their enemy. They were playing the necessary evil, and it was the agency's doing. Whumpee was once again paying the price for the flow of things.

Right Hand stumbled, their boss catching them from their collar to prevent them from falling.

"Your mind is somewhere else," Boss commented. "It's not like you. But you should get yourself together before we get to the cell. We wouldn't want a bad impression."

"Yessir," Right Hand answered automatically.

"I can trust you down here, can't I?"

"You can, and you should, sir. I don't think I've ever betrayed to your trust," Right Hand pulled themselves together.

"You did not. But I knew you had an unfortunate history."

Unfortunate, they held back a bitter chuckle. Unfortunate for Whumpee. They were stripped of their rank and team and pit into a position they didn't wish for. Just like Right Hand, only remained one from the former team, thrown into the opposite position. Right Hand could be considered even lucky. At least they weren't shouldering more than they could.

They walked in silence, their steps synchronised as if they had been at each other's side for years. It was wrong because Right Hand's place was Whumpee's side. Being like this was foreign and just... wrong.

Right Hand stopped when Boss put a hand to their shoulder. They slowly raised their gaze and met with Whumpee. They had to hold their breath, not to gasp at the sight of Whumpee's still form hanging from the ceiling by arms, hair damp and sticking to their sweaty pale skin as blood slowly dripped down from their nose.

"Extract as much information as you can before their minions find this place," Boss said to their ear. Right Hand nodded, again a fixed response to orders.

"I will come back to see your progress, but I should report something first. Have fun," Boss chirped before leaving. The tone froze Right Hand, causing their stomach to flip.

"Finally a familiar face," Whumpee whispered. The voice Right Hand once received orders that could make one tremble was now reduced to a weak croak. "The agency must've made a good cleanup."

"How can you be so calm?!" Right Hand snapped. They got into the cell quickly, releasing Whumpee's arms. They had to catch Whumpee from falling like a rag doll, the weight their arms support a lot less than they expected.

"It's good to see you too. But I wish it had been in better circumstances," Whumpee smiled as they held their nose, moving a little to lean back to the wall of the cell. They looked Right Hand with so much affection that Right Hand had to suppress their anger.

"I really don't know how anyone didn't notice yet," Right Hand kneeled next to them, their eyes asking for permission to check Whumpee. "You're not really subtle with your stubbornness to do the bare minimum to look bad or make your minions mess up the plans purposefully."

Whumpee shrugged. "I'm too busy to run a monopoly over the resources to be evil," they said with a fake offended voice. Then they chuckled slightly, trying their best to give an assuring smile.

Right Hand searched for any injuries, but it seemed that no one took a risk by leaving Whumpee to bleed. Right Hand was grateful for it, but the bruises and scars were worrying, along with the thought of what could be under the heavy bandages on Whumpee's torso and legs.

"I can't do what they wish from me," Right Hand confessed without dragging it any further. "I can't... I can't do what they did."

"But you'll have to, sooner or later. Don't feel bad about it. I know you don't... mean it," Whumpee answered, reaching to Right Hand's hand. Both of their hands were hard and calloused, causing the other's to itch a little, but it didn't matter. What mattered was Right Hand had to torture Whumpee.

"Leader," they whispered, their mouth having a bitter taste as they voice the name now buried into classified filed. Right Hand didn't have the strength to ask for forgiveness, and Whumpee's real name between their lips was the only way they could beg for it.

"Don't," Whumpee almsot choked out. "Don't do this to both of us. Don't think me as... as what I am."

As what I am.

Whumpee was still the same person under this disguise, and it was making Right Hand's work impossible. Because Right Hand's loyalty first belonged to Whumpee, and Whumpee truly did nothing to betray that trust.

"One would think we are the bad guys here," they chuckled bitterly, the hypocrisy of the whole situation catching up on them.

"Nothing is inheritly good or inheritly bad. At least what you do has more benefits," Whumpee reminded. Right Hand's shoulders tensed, slowly accepting the inevitable outcome.

"When will you stop sacrificing yourself?" Right Hand asked instead. They heard the distant sound of door opening. Whumpee must have heard, too, because they got to a kneeling position, head down as they pushed their nose harshly, making it bleed again.

It took Right Hand's all will not to react to that.

"I see talking didn't went well," Boss opened the cell door, leaning on the frame. "Please continue with what you were doing."

"Please obey your master little puppet," Whumpee mocked. Right Hand sighed, the tired sound easily could be mistaken as frustration. They caught Whumpee from their collar, slamming them to the wall. Whumpee went limb for a second but collected themselves a little as Right Hand let them stand on their feet, their eyes finding Boss.

Right Hand had never seen Whumpee look this arrogant before.

And Whumpee laughed. Boss pushed Right Hand aside and took Whumpee themselves, throwing the unmoving body to the opposite wall. Right Hand had to hold back a yelp as Whumpee cried with the impact.

"I would make you regret your every action, your betrayal, if so many villains weren't trying to save you or kill you themselves as we speak," Boss snarled. "But I guess I should now settle for your former underling torturing you after you already gone a round by professionals."

"You will be my neighbour in hell," Whumpee smirked.

Right Hand's mind immediately translated, I will see you later.

Boss motioned them to leave, so obeyed. By the time Rught Hand's team got out, a small group of villains were coming towards the hideout.

[necroangelz]

forrr the record since I've seen ppl posting about it and now i feel pressured to do the same or else I'll be thrown into the pits of hell by a collective community of people who don't know me:

i don't support like . the bad parts . of maidenlove. i don't support the ask name dropping other editors and sending threats to them, and i think that ask shouldn't have been posted at all ! .....

(i don't have an opinion on the name gifting stuff i don't understand it at all and all the posts about it kind of blur together into this unrecognizable and incomprehensible cacophony in my head and the cacophony keeps screaming and ringing and kicking)

i also think a confessions and rant account would've been great for this community because, let's admit, there are a LOT of problems here. and ranting is kinda fun sometimes yk??? it helps uu get out the frustrations. but sadly the anons r only so enthusiastic to shit talk senselessly, bring up old drama, make new drama seem bigger than it is, etc. if uu are going to rant and shit talk,.have some CLASS. i would know bc i am an expert at this

so yeah there's my stance don't block me guys please please please PLEA ,

[alfredsolos]

It bothers me when Jason stans try to demonize everyone else and try to woobify him to make him a constant victim.Jason did awful and indefensible things that were 100% his decision. What he went through was tragic but it doesn’t excuse his actions or make him less responsible for them.

You are 100% right anon!

Before I give my input, I'd like to state that I love Jason Todd and enjoy reading his comics.

With that out of the way, I think the biggest and most toxic problem of the fandom is their love for woobifying characters.

And this happens mainly to Tim and Jason.

A lot of people blame his actions to the pit madness. But that's simply not true.

Jason was aware and sane when he did those bad things. And that's what makes him so interesting. Because a hero turning into a different path willingly is very exciting to read.

I know a lot of people believe that Jason was an anti-hero when he came back to life, but it's simply not true. Jason was a villain when he came back. He turned to being an anti-hero way after that.

And things he did isn't portrayed accurately in fanon or is simply lacking.

They give two examples of him being bad, and basically try to give him a redemption through that.

It's way more than that.

He came back and murdered mafia leaders, stuffed their heads into a bag and basically showed it off.

He beat up Tim Drake. (He did not mean to kill him or hurt him beyond that. He wanted to send Batman a message)

Through out Batman and Robin (2009) he was literally one of the main villains. He kidnapped Dick and Damian and almost revealed their identities.

In Battle For The Cowl, he almost (intentionally) killed Tim. In fact, he smiled at Tim's unconcious form when he thought that he was dead. The only reason Tim was saved is because he slowed down his heartbeat.

In the same comic, he also shot Damian and caused him to get over 70 stitches.

He went around as Nightwing and had a murder spree.

Literally made fun of Bruce, when a nuclear powered villain was thrown onto Bludhaven, and Dick was thought to be dead.

While he was in Jail, he poisoned and killed 83 inmates.

And so on.

Jason Todd is a character that is written pretty good, and as I've said I like reading about him. But let's not infantilaze him, and instead treat him as the mature person he is.

The same goes for Tim Drake.

[giggly-squiggily]

oughhh maybe ler!Kakyoin & lee!Jotaro + “Miss you”... 👉🏻👈🏻

{Candy Heart Prompts: OFFICIALLY CLOSED!}

Of course, anon! I adore these two very much akjlrjeajrje I've gotcha covered! 🫶

CW: Swearing

Miss You: "When's the last time you smiled?"

“Hey…” Kakyoin crawled into his space, blocking the text of Jotaro’s book with his red curl. “When’s the last time you smiled?”

He knew where this was going. Jotaro made a low sound before meeting his companion’s eyes. “Kak.”

“Jojo?”

“If you’re gonna do it, just do it. No point in all this buildup.” He put his book down, getting comfortable while Kakyoin went through a series of emotions before settling on mischievous delight. “Make it quick.”

“Oo, eager are we?” Kakyoin wasted no time throwing himself across the bigger man, sitting on his hips and getting comfortable. “Who am I to turn down such a request?”  With that, he immediately latched onto the center of Jotaro’s ribs, making the brunette jump and grab at his wrists. “Ah, ah, ah- no fighting back, Jojo~”

“I nehehhever sahhaid I wohohouldn’t!” He growled through growing giggles, squeezing his eyes shut as Kakyoin pressed and prodded into his worst spot right away. “Shihihiht- Kahahhak!”

“Oo, Jojo said a bad word! Hehehehe!” Kakyoin snickered as he scribbled up and down Jotaro’s ribcage, grinning as his friend’s growing mirth. “Naughty Jojo- what would Mr. Joestar think? What would Avdol think?”

“Shuhuhuhuht uhuhuhuuhuhp! Gooohoohohd grheheeheif, yohohohou ahahhahct lhiihihihke thehehehy dohohoohohn’t chuhuhuhuuhrse- GEhahahhaah fuhuuhuhuck!” Jotaro all but threw him off when Kakyoin began squeezing along his neck, kneading into the terrible spots towards his neck. “Dohohoohhon’t nohohohot thehehehhere!”

“Oo, bad spot huh?” The redhead laughed along with him, flinching some when Jotaro’s hands grabbed at his waist. “Oohoho no! Nohoho way!” He shot his hands into his open pits, earning a loud “SHIT!” before Jotaro’s arms clamped down, head thrown back as he let out a proper bout of laughter. “There we are! That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Kahahhahahak, yohohohohou soohohohohohon ohohoohohof a bihihihiihithch!”

“Oo, swearing again! You’re really a bad boy, aren’t you?” Kakyoin tsked fondly as he carried on tickling his friend, earning the gruffest but most addictive sounding chortles and yelps. “Looks like I’m gonna have to keep tickling you until you stop. Get ready!”

[sapphire-weapon]

Sending this so you have smth to answer that isn't racist children (as a black girl,,,,man these people are too comfy online)

ANYWAY i can't get the idea out of my head for a fic from Ashley's pov where she's incredibly lonely and doesn't trust that anyone actually wants to be around her for her but rather for her status/who she is, and that's why she's super distant with Leon to begin with.

And throughout the game her and Leon start bantering and getting closer and she's like well okay maybe he actually likes me for me, he's already got status, but she's not fully trusting

and then they get flirty and shes like oh god oh fuck i LIKE this guy???? and is like mildly panicky about it (im imagining she's never had an actual relationship bc of the trust issues, slept with people but never anything more) so she like awkwardly flirts back while freaking out about this + the whole, you know, mutant thing

and she convinces herself he's not actually into her and is just trying to keep her mind off everything/insecurities flare up UNTIL we get to the bit where Leon breaks free of Saddler's control for a second and drops to his knees trying to stop him touching Ashley. and she's like ?!?!!!?! oh god this is real he actually cares but it's too late now to do anything bc we're gonna DIE and she thinks all this while unable to move and watches him get thrown into the pit.

if i were to actually write this I'd make it SO angsty and maybe end it at that point lol I love to put my faves in Situations. i probs won't write it so here's an idea if ur interested lol <3

Anon we must be plaga'd or something, because I have had a very similar fic idea in my head for DAYS, only with the roles reversed. Because like... I was thinking about how many times Leon whiffs with his attempts at flirting with Ashley throughout the entirety of the game (he really doesn't actually "crack the code" so to speak until the dining hall convo), and I was like

When was the last time Leon actually got laid?? Why is he so rusty at this, why is he so bad at it at the start when he clearly has game once he, like... remembers how? Why's he out of practice?

And then I started thinking about my headcanon of how Leon probably went out with other guys from the army to pick up girls and stuff and how that probably stopped within a year or two, and I realized... the last time Leon got laid, he probably looked completely different. He was probably still, for the most part, his lean but cut RE2make self, and there's a non-zero chance he has a really minor sense of body dysmorphia because of how much he's changed physically in such a short window of time.

And I was like... you know, there's a shitton of fics of Leon helping Ashley cope with the aftermath of what happened, but I don't think I've ever seen it the other way around. I've never seen a fic where Ashley looks at Leon and goes "you're crazy for thinking no one would want you or want to be with you." And have the whole thing sort of tie back to how Ashley brings out his RE2 self again, and make it so that she helps him just feel like a person again.

And now I get your ask and I'm like

What if I combined these ideas?

What if there's issues on both sides for them to work out together? Ashley's trust issues + Leon's self-worth/self-image issues.

I actually did want to try to explore my initial idea through fic this upcoming weekend (today is my Friday! So I have the next two days off) and now having this to flesh it out more is like 👀👀👀 maybe I got something here.

I'll try to keep u guys posted!!

[starfinss]

not take ALL THE TIME to reply,,, (well not more than a week cause i might be worried) but i totally see that for Zuko and I applaud for your vision. I'm personally a spiteful cold edge snarky person with a smidge of hot headedness so i would relate more for the reader. I think the combo would be perfect 100%

as for sleeping bag you are right.... my only thought now it's either maybe the reader has a bigger bag because "it's a water tribe thing" or something like that OR share the same tent instead

im also thinking a maybe one sentimental night kind of ordeal (if theyw ere to share the same tent) like a either one of them wakes up for a breath of fresh air then the other wakes up to check up on them (cliche i know). if it were zuko being the person to wake up then maybe before the reader goes out to find Zuko they have conflicting thoughts about checking on him cause their still somewhat "hating" him,,, thoughts like

"Maybe he went to go take a wazz.... nah probably still hungry and is trying to steal my LEFTOVER SOUP.... wait no i would've heard the clanking sounds.... he doesn't sound close at all.... wait what if he's in trouble?? what if he's HURT,,,, hold on he's a firebender he should be fin- wait why am i thinking so hard about this. AHHHHHHHHH fuck it i'm gonna go check on him, i can't sleep knowing where the fuck he is and aang is gonna air bend me to space if anything happens to his only fire bending master"

OOOOOO also at some point (even though this already happened with toph kind of but whatever) maybe in the period where they start to question their feelings and stuff Zuko accidentally burns her hand? i'm thinking like maybe he was thrown off by something she said while putting more heat into the fire pit while she's stirring the pot or something and accidentally makes the fire bigger? thus burning her hand? something like that THEN OUT OF PANIC he runs over to her and grabs her hands and they get this AWKWARD "OH MY GOD THEIR CLOSE TO ME" moment and yeah

I apologize... to the followers who see these walls of texts,,,, im just a very shy person ,,,,,hyguhhh ALSO I HAVE NO WORKT EH NEXT 3 DAYS SO I WILL BE MORE ACTIVE and hopefully have more ideas then <3

HI HELLO! I check tumblr pretty much daily, and asks show up in my phone’s notifications, so I’ll reply as soon as I see them. The only times I’m really away for long periods of time is when I’m either really busy or have really bad writer’s block, which I actually did have before this request, haha. But even then, I usually glance at tumblr. Either way, you won’t have to worry about me vanishing.

The tent thing is great, I love that. They should totally be forced to share a tent. I do like the accidentally burning thing as well, since reader is a waterbender and can also heal herself. It could be a good opening to break down the walls between them. He’s fussing over her burn and they start to open up to each other a little bit. Could be good. 👀

Hahahaha my followers (of which there are way more than I ever expected to have now, we’re nearing 1K) know what they signed up for when they followed me, I’m known to post random bullshit related to whatever I’m fixated on, but I don’t think they’ve ever seen me liveblog the plotting of a story with an anon. They’re all sweethearts, though, and I treasure each and every one of them. They’re why I do what I do, I love writing and creating things people really enjoy.

I also have nearly 2k words written of the first chapter, and it’s going swimmingly. Not done yet, it’ll probably end up being maybe around 5-6k words? And that’s just the first chapter. Jesus, this thing is gonna be long, but it’s okay, I’m having fun.

Oooh! Exciting! Having time off work is always nice. I kind of had time off this last week because I had Covid, but that just made me get cabin fever really fast. Anyway, I look forward to the ideas coming through. I’ll definitely be around in the coming days, so don’t worry about that. I’m a college student, so I do have class from Tuesday to Thursday, but I’ll have plenty of time to write and chat about the story. I always have my phone on me, so don’t worry. I’ve grown to anticipate receiving asks from you anyway. :)

[slasher-male-wife]

could you please write comfort for a reader with a abusive ex? mine has been texting and calling me all day and i could really use some comfort w/ bo sinclair, thomas hewitt, jason voorhees, and brahms heelshire? thank you ziggy -🐾

Oh boy I understand this completely. All of my exes have been abusive and I’m taking it out in my writing. I’m not gonna go into detail about what they do in some parts but I would happily write that in if you want me to anon.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, abuse and murder, strong language,

Bo Sinclair

When you first open up to Bo about the abuse you survived he's livid. He loves you and sees you as such an amazing person and is so upset you had to go through that.

He knows how bad abuse is because of how much he endured as a child. He doesn't know how to communicate how he feels so it's gonna come off in weird ways.

If you start crying about your ex he'll hold and sooth you physically but he'll have a hard time verbally soothing you. But no matter what he's mostly pissed this happened to you.

Oh boy but if your ex ever dares to set foot in Ambrose he's gonna be brutal. Like your ex will not be turned into wax they will be brutally killed and the left over parts will be thrown in the road kill pit.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas like most slashers have endured abuse in their lives. He's crushed when he finds out his lovely s/o had to deal with this too. He feels to horrible and will want to pull you into a tight hug.

If you start crying about it he'll feel so bad. He's scared to touch you in case the abuse was physical. But if you tell him it's ok he'll hold your hand and rub your back.

He'll try to keep you away from Hoyt and his abuse for several reasons including your past abuse. He will get aggressive with Hoyt if he has to and isn't scared to pick you up and carry you out of a situation if it's gonna trigger something.

Just like Bo if he ever comes across yout ex he's not gonna show any mercy. Like I don't know how to state what he'd do without getting like really graphic. But be sure they won't look like a human within minutes of being in the basement and will not be fed to the family. They are going to the pigs and nothing else.

Jason Voorhees

He's never been abused persay but has been treated poorly. He feels so bad that he couldn't help you during this time and that you even had to endure that abuse.

He's going to hold you while you cry and probably cry with you. He's here for you and will let you cry, scream, whatever you need to do he will let you do that.

If it's one of those days where everything is super hard and you keep having intrusive thoughts about them he's here to help you do whatever you need to get done. He'll check in on you and make sure you eat and drink something.

Oh and if he ever comes across your ex they're fucking done. He may or may not put them in a bear trap and leave them there for hours to deal with them later.

Brahms Heelshire

Oh he understands abuse. I feel like his parents never got physical but very verbally and emotionally abusive to him. He understands abuse but has never had the chance to like process it or like even kinda realize it so he's going to help heal with you.

He's here to cuddle with you on bad days and hold you when you cry. Another guy who will cry with you. He's all ears if you need to vent and will hold you close. He's going to promise to never hurt you like they did.

Again if your ex somehow finds their way to you Brahms is going to attack them on sight. He'll probably do it in the walls or outside, well anywhere you can't see, unless you want to.

[not-a-space-alien]

Hi, everyone! I'm back with another piece of fanfiction for @whumpsday's characters Jim and Kane. (You can read my first one I wrote here.) This one is an expansion of this anon (written with permission.)

Same as last one: The needed background for this piece of writing is that Kane, a vampire, took Jim captive for years to feed on his blood. Jim escaped eventually, and Kane was later captured and brutally tortured by vampire hunters for the same amount of time (delicious irony and poetic justice.) Jim heard about this and asked the vampire hunters to give Kane to him, planning to kill him and get closure, but Jim ended up feeling too bad for Kane to hurt him (Jim is too much of a softie for his own good). So now they’re just sort of in this awkward place where reformed Kane is living locked in Jim’s basement and they’re both bogged down by horrible PTSD that the other keeps triggering.

This ficlet is rated M because it has graphic descriptions of gore and violence. The linked story that this is fanfiction of is also very graphic and may be distasteful to some readers, so please use your best judgement and mind the tags and CW’s.

“Wake up.”

Jim had felt this feeling before.  Very, very rarely.  Because Kane was not capable of persuasion, so he’d only ever felt it when a different vampire had used it on him.

He hadn’t missed it.

His eyes flew open, feeling some ominous, overwhelming presence completely consuming him, overriding his very will.  It was by far the worst way he’d ever woken up, and he’d previously woken up to Kane feeding on his neck.

“Stay still.  Don’t scream.”

It was called mind-control, but really it would be more accurate to describe it as body-control.  Jim was locked in his own body, unable to do anything except follow the directions from the voice.

“Stand up.” Jim’s feet swung off the side of the bed without his permission, pivoting him towards the window.

It was night out, and in front of the backdrop of stars standing in front of the open window was a cruel figure.  It was a vampire he had never seen before.

A vampire he’d never seen before had come into his bedroom at home, in the middle of the night, in the middle of human territory.  Dread dropped into the pit of Jim’s stomach, almost making him throw up.  He wasn’t safe, not even here, where he should by all accounts be safe.  He was doomed to be hunted, dehumanized, used for his body until he was broken and thrown out like trash.  If he couldn’t escape that fate even here, what hope did he have?

Tears welled in his eyes.

“Good,” said the vampire.  “Yes, just what I’d hoped for.”  The vampire moved closer and drew one claw over Jim’s cheek, wiping the tear.  “You must be wondering what I’m here for.”

Wondering was a strong word for Jim’s thoughts.  He’d thought it would be pretty self-explanatory.

The vampire put a hand to his chest.  “I like a challenge, you see.  And I learned recently that you’re somewhat famous in the human world.  There’s a book about you and everything.  Because you’re apparently impossible to contain.”

More tears slid down Jim’s cheeks.  He imagined this vampire reading that stupid book, reading the passages about his imprisonment and feeling not pity or horror, but challenged to do more.   It sent a shudder up his spine, like he’d been violated by this creature already in a way he couldn’t describe.

“So that’s why I came all the way out here to find you,” the vampire whispered.  “I think a proper vampire, one with persuasion, could break you.”

“No,” said Jim, his body now trembling like a leaf.  “Please…  I c-can’t go back there.”

“You can, and you will.  I caught you fare and square, so you’re mine now.”

“F-fuck off,” said Jim.  He could only speak quietly, because the persuasion kept him from screaming, but not speaking entirely.

He wanted to scream though.  Whatever accursed mechanism that persuasion used kept the sound caught in his throat, choking him.  He wept.  He hadn’t managed to sound threatening at all.

“But first,” said the new vampire, “before I whisk you away, I’m going to feed on you.  Right here, in your home, where you thought you were safe.  Just so you remember how it will always end.  You can think you’re sleeping safe and sound at home, miles and miles away, and someone will feed on you.  You exist for my benefit.  Now kneel down and tilt your head.”

Jim had no choice but to obey; his body did the motions for him as he whimpered and bit his lip.  “Don’t,” was all he managed to say, eyes glazing over, going somewhere else mentally, regressing.

The vampire brushed Jim’s hair aside, caressing his neck.  “Oh, so much scar tissue.  It’ll make your skin so tough and unpleasant.  But no matter.  I see your previous owner favored the right jugular.  I’ll simply take from the left subclavian.  Your skin is still nice and tender there.”

Jim’s chest heaved as the vampire’s talons slid the shoulder of his shirt down.  He opened his mouth and pleaded, his voice as loud as he could physically make it with the persuasion cutting off anything considered a scream.  “Kane.”  He tried to scream, but it came out more like a dying plea.  “Kane, help me, please.”

He wasn’t calling to the vampire locked in his basement, the one he clapped ankle cuffs onto each morning to let him come up and watch TV.  He was calling to a person who didn’t exist anymore, Kane de Sang, the fickle, violent vampire who considered himself Jim’s owner, the instinctual calling based on the reassurance that Kane could at least be relied upon to shoo others away from his property and his food.  Kane would tell this newcomer to leave not because he cared about Jim’s pain, but because he did care about being stolen from.

“You’re more well trained than I thought,” purred the newcomer.  “Still calling for your old master.  Adorable.”

He bit down, not on the side of his neck but on the top his shoulder, in the crook of his neck.  The chronic pain and nightmares Jim had about his neck had convinced him to only ever worry about his jugular, but this was so much worse.  It was deeper, the flesh tender and unscarred, and it felt like this sadistic new vampire had stuck a drinking straw straight into his very heart.

He sobbed, wailing as loudly as he physically could, which the vampire seemed to like.  “You have such cute moans.”

Jim’s head was spinning and his grip on his surroundings was fading, but he heard something downstairs faintly: a heavy, meaty thump, like a piece of meat being thrown against a wall.

“Please don’t,” Jim wept.  “I can’t—I can’t—not again—not again.”

His body shook again as the vampire lapped at the ragged wound, drawing out his blood—much more than he remembered Kane taking, more than he gave Kane willingly.  “Don’t be silly, you’re doing fine—and we’re only just getting started.”

There was another thunk from downstairs, followed by another, more frantic.  The vampire seemed to hear it this time, too, and pulled his head up, blood-drenched maw turned in a frown.

“Kane,” said Jim.  “P-please help, please help me, please stop him.”

There was an ear-shattering sound from downstairs, the squealing of metal groaning and ripping, and something enormously heavy falling flat on the ground.

“Don’t move,” the new vampire growled into Jim’s ear.  He stood, wiping his face.  “What the hell was that?”

Jim sobbed, eyes fixed on the door.

There was the sound of be-socked feet very rapidly pattering across the carpet downstairs, up the stairs—crossing the distance almost in the blink of an eye.

Kane swung into the bedroom door, out of breath.  Fresh burn marks—so fresh that some of them were still smoking, in fact—were scattered on his face and arms.

Jim’s scrambled brain snapped back into the present, slamming him back into his body.  “Kane,” he wailed in a strained voice.  “P-please.”

Kane’s wide, feral eyes snapped down to Jim.  A thrill of fear surged through the human, the human on the floor between two vampires, a situation which surely ended in the human being torn in half and devoured every time.

Kane’s eyes slid from Jim up to the bloody vampire, who was still licking his lips.  “Ah…” said the new vampire.  “I-I didn’t realize this human was—”

Kane cut him off.  There was no stoic speech, no impassioned ranting, no threats, no trying to intimidate the interloper.  There was only primal, bestial, uncontrollable anger.

Kane drew his lip back, exposing his fangs, eyes burning with incomprehensible madness as he lunged at the other vampire like a jaguar striking.  His hands extended into claws, which sunk into the other vampire’s shoulder meat, drawing blood instantly and sending them both tumbling to the floor.

It was like a cat fight, except both combatants had the ability to crush concrete with their bare hands.  Blood spattered the wall in a pressurized spray, the floor cracked beneath them, the snarling and cursing vibrated glass and shattered the windows.

Kane garnered an impressive collection of injuries in a matter of seconds, flesh on his arms shredded to ribbons, but he didn’t seem to notice, that wild-eyed expression never leaving his face.  His lip stayed curled up as he grunted and growled wordlessly with each blow.

Kane had never been a particularly strong or meaty vampire, but he had one crucial advantage in this fight: he was fighting for something he cared about much, much, much more than the other one did.  The interloper threw Kane off and turned to lunge out the window, apparently having had enough, but Kane used the opportunity to sink his fingers into his opponent’s throat, slammed him backwards into the ground, splitting the wood of the floor, and ruthlessly jammed his thumbs into his eye sockets.

The other vampire screamed.  “I yield!  I yield!”

Kane opened wide and bit through his opponent’s windpipe.  He growled savagely as he sunk his teeth in deeper and deeper.  As his opponent gave a gargled plea, Kane grabbed a fistful of hair and wrenched his head around, then drew back and lunged again, forcing his teeth in as far as they would go.

With a final shout, Kane twisted and snapped the other vampire’s head clean off, the ragged flesh spattering with the motion.  He sat there over the decapitated body, chest heaving, blood soaking his entire front, severed head still gripped by the hair in one hand.  Kane’s eyes wildly wheeled about the room, and he took a few steadying breaths, coming down after a few seconds.

His terrifying red eyes came up and met Jim’s gaze.  Jim was still kneeling on the floor, having watched this entire series of events with a horrified expression.

“Jim,” said Kane, voice already scratchy from screaming.  He let the head roll out of his hand and thunk to the floor.

“P-please,” Jim said, body starting to shake again.  “Please, K-kane, please please.”

Kane, still hunkered down, crawled across the floor, limbs trembling from exertion and adrenaline.  Kane reached out one gore-strewn hand towards Jim, and the human, finding his limbs suddenly functional again, scrambled back, blubbering and sputtering incoherent pleas.

“Jim, are you okay?”  Kane’s head was starting to spin, bogged down by exhaustion and shock from what he’d just done.  He’d never done anything like that before, ever.  He hadn't thought he could.

He wouldn’t have guessed he could get past the silver-lined basement door.  The door itself he couldn’t get through, but it turned out that he could snap the reinforced iron hinges completely off by throwing himself at it hard enough.  And he hadn’t had the motivation to try that until recently, when he’d heard Jim calling him for help, guessing what was somehow happening based on the sounds. He'd thought it a fruitless endeavor, but he had to try, he had to do something when he heard Jim in pain and danger.

Jim.  The fountain of every good thing Kane had experienced in years, the source of endless kindness and mercy when none was deserved or expected.  The only person Kane suddenly found it intolerable to think of losing.

Kane’s new life only had two goals, which were: Keep away from the hunters, and help Jim.  He’d had no idea how strong that second one had burned inside him until he’d heard Jim’s pitiful cries.

Jim didn’t deserve any bad thing to happen to him, but he especially didn’t deserve to be fed on by a vampire.  Nobody would hurt Jim ever again, not Kane, not anybody.  Maybe it could make even a single step of progress towards ever repaying Jim to make sure of that.  Kane loved him more than he loved his own family.

Jim scrambled away from Kane, huddled in the corner of the room.  “Don’t,” he whispered, horrified.  The gore, the scene in front of him was a violent reminder that this creature he’d brought into his house could snap him in half at any time, and his brain was currently swimming in visions of all the times Kane had used that strength for purposes less noble than protecting him.

Still on his hands and knees, utterly beaten and exhausted, Kane crawled forward, painting the floor beneath him with a smear of blood.  “Jim—Jim, let me help you.”

Tears streaked down Jim’s cheeks.  “Kane, please—Please don’t hurt me.”

Kane heaved a deep breath, trying to steady himself.  “I won’t hurt you.  Are you—are you hurt?”

“Don’t feed on me,” said Jim, his voice small, the voice of someone more defenseless from a long time ago.  “I’ll die.  I’ll die if you take more.  Kane.  Don’t kill me.”

Kane finally dragged himself up to Jim’s side, and the human flinched away from him.  Kane put a gentle hand on Jim’s elbow.  “Let—let me help you.”

Jim stared at him with wide, scared eyes.  Kane suppressed a guilty, overwhelmed noise as he tried to wipe the blood off his face, but only succeeded in smearing it everywhere.  “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay.  I’m not going to hurt you.”

Kane slowly moved his hand to Jim’s injury, which was still disgorging blood at an alarming rate.  “Let me lick this to close it.”  Vampire saliva had a special property that accelerated the healing of wounds it was used to seal.  He’d offered this service to Jim once before, but the human had turned it down in a panicked manner.  But Jim clearly needed it this time.

Kane held the remnants of Jim’s torn pajama shirt to the side and leaned in.  “No,” said Jim with a sob.  “Don’t, don’t feed on me.  I’ll die.  Please, Kane.  Please.”

“I’m not feeding on you,” said Kane, on the verge of tears.  “I promise.  I promise.  I’m helping you.  I’m sealing the wound.  I’m not taking any blood.”

Kane flattened his tongue over the ragged wound and gently, in one smooth motion swiped it up the length of both puncture marks.  The wound immediately looked a little bit better, the trickle of blood ceasing.

Oh, but that left Kane with a delicious, delicious mouthful of Jim’s blood.  He wanted so badly to swallow it.  It wouldn’t hurt anything.  It was blood Jim had already shed.  It would just go to waste.

But Jim was crying and begging, and Kane had promised he wouldn’t feed on him.  He knew better now, that he could never, ever, ever feed on anyone unless they told him explicitly that it was okay.

It was so, so hard, it pained him so much, but he leaned over and spit the mouthful of blood out, ropes of pink saliva stringing down to the ground.

“There,” said Kane, wiping his mouth.  “See?”

Still huddling, Jim stared at him.  His consciousness seemed to be ebbing, both from blood loss and shock.  Kane leaned Jim onto his shoulder.  “I’ve got you.”

Jim wobbled.

“Where’s your phone?”

---

“I need you to drive Jim to the hospital.”

That was all the words Kane had to get out before Liz was putting on her jacket and out the door.

I swear to God.  You fucking monster.  If you’ve hurt him. If you hurt my brother.

She made the drive in twenty minutes when it normally took thirty.  She slammed the car into the driveway, barely remembering to turn it off before hauling ass up onto the porch and nearly breaking the door down.

Kane and Jim were both sitting on the living room couch.  All Liz could see instantly was red, both red in her vision from anger and the red all over both of the men’s shirts.  Jim had two distinctive, telltale puncture marks above his clavicle.  Kane had blood smeared all over his face.  And behind them, the supposedly vampire-proof door to the basement lay detached on the floor, metal that had kept it fastened to the wall twisted and broken.

Kane stood up as Liz entered.  “Liz, there was another vamp—”

He is not, Liz thought.  He is not going to try and claim there was another vampire.  He does not expect me to believe some other vampire broke out of the basement and attacked Jim.

Liz stopped him mid-sentence by drawing her gun and firing three silver-lined bullets into Kane’s chest, sending him tumbling backwards.  He stumbled over the couch, accidentally flipping over the back, legs up in the air, body broken and twisted, neck bent awkwardly as he hit the floor.

“You fucker,” Liz growled.  “I’ll deal with you later.”

She kicked Kane’s leg off the back of the couch and leaned over Jim.  He’d appeared to have fallen unconscious, but he was breathing.

“I’ve got you,” Liz breathed.  “I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

She slung Jim’s arm over her shoulder and dragged him out, down the steps into her car, smearing drying blood all over her upholstery.  She buckled Jim in and shut and locked the door.  “I’ll be right back.  Don’t you worry.”

Liz stomped back into the house, coming around, gaze burning into Kane.  “You’re done, fucker,” she snarled.  “You’re done.”

Kane struggled to right himself, torn body convulsing and twitching around the silver bullets.  Fresh blood poured from his mouth as he tried to speak.

I can’t believe I forgot a stake, Liz thought.  She’d come all the way here to kill Kane, and hadn’t brought a stake.

Well, no matter.  She knew Jim kept some in his bedroom.  She walked over to Kane and rolled him over with her foot, planting her boot on his chest.  She cocked the gun and aimed it right between Kane’s watery, pleading eyes.  He spat up more blood and writhed.

The final silver bullet spattered his brains on the floor under him.  Liz suppressed her disgust, both at the gore and at Kane’s betrayal.  Poor Jim, too soft for his own good, took pity on this monster, and this was the thanks he got?

Well, no matter.  Liz was about to end this once and for all, permanently.  A silver bullet to the head would stop a vampire for a while as their head reformed, but a stake to the heart would make sure they never rose again.  She just had to go upstairs and get one.

She climbed the stairs, noting more blood, the trail widening as it led back to the bedroom.  She came around the corner and stepped into a bedroom that looked like a crime scene.

Oh.

---

It was the second time Jim had woken up in the hospital after suffering at the hands of vampires.  It was an experience he hoped he could stop repeating.  The ache rolled over him as soon as he was awake to feel it, the pain in his neck and his shoulder.  But under it was the prickle of IVs and bandages and the numbness from pain meds.

He was okay.  He got ahold of his breath before it got away from him.  He was okay.  He was in a human hospital.

“Hey,” said Liz’s voice softly.

His eyes fluttered open, and he tiredly looked to see Liz sitting next to him.  A wide smile spread across her face.  “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Jim coughed.  “Thanks for getting me here.  I thought maybe this was gonna be it.  How do I look?”

“Like shit,” said Liz.  “And when I brought you to the emergency room, the doctors said ‘Wow, this guy seems like shit.’”

“Ha-ha,” said Jim.  He sat up muzzily.  “What—Oh, where’s Kane?”

Liz bit her lip.  “Um, about that…Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“It’s—it’s fuzzy,” said Jim.  “But a vampire I’ve never seen before came into my room…and Kane…I don’t know how he got out of the basement, but he killed it.”

“Goddamn it,” said Liz, face growing red.  “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“What?  Is that bad?  Why?”

“Because now I have to apologize.”

---

Kane’s head was throbbing when he woke up.  This was a natural consequence of being shot.

His torso was, too.  He could feel pinpricks of burning in his core.  The bullet in his brain had apparently gone clean through and not lodged in his head, but apparently he wasn’t so lucky with the ones in his gut.  He felt one lodged in his left lung, one sitting in a cracked rib, and the third one just barely grazing his liver.  His vampiric flesh had slithered on over to close the bullet wounds around the bullets.

As his consciousness started to return in earnest, he made a movement to try and take action to remove the bullets before they were in there for too long.  The silver hurt with every motion, every breath, every heartbeat, like three shards of glass inside of him.

But his hands didn’t budge.  Neither did his legs.  He craned his neck to look back.  His arms were stretched out behind him, locked to his ankles in a hogtie

Dread lanced through him.  Liz had been the last thing he remembered, and of course she wouldn’t leave him unbound or unconfined.  And since the basement door was gone, she would have to cuff him.  And of course, in the absence of anything sturdy enough to lock the cuffs to, the silver cuffs could only be secured to themselves to keep him immobile.

Kane pulled at the restraints, worming around, hissing in pain as the silver bullets rubbed against his insides.  He let out a pathetic whimper.

He made some attempt to roll over and succeeded somewhat.  He was on the concrete floor of the basement, at the bottom of the stairs.  It sort of looked like Liz had just cuffed him together and tossed him down the stairs. 

No, no, no, thought Kane wriggling growing in intensity.  No, please, not this.  The hunters weren’t here, but this was exactly like something they would inflict on him, to wedge silver bullets into his chest, cuff him, and toss him down the stairs, with no idea of when he might be released or get some help.

Kane slowly lowered his forehead to the concrete, breath quickening.  Where was Jim?  Liz had taken him to the hospital, surely?

Yes, surely.  Liz would make sure he got to the hospital.  He imagined Jim waking up surrounded by people helping him and caring about him and lessening his pain.  Jim deserved it.  Kane knew he deserved to wake up the opposite way, scared, alone, pain throbbing all over him with no way to help himself or get better.  He knew he didn’t deserve anything better, but he still let himself cry about it.  There was no one here to see him, after all.  He allowed himself a moment of self-pity.  His pain still hurt, no matter how much he deserved it.

He rolled back over, pulling at the restraints again, gritting his teeth at the pain from the bullets.  No, no, this couldn’t be it.  This couldn’t be right.  Jim wouldn’t torture him.  Jim wouldn’t let him be tortured.  He let out a frustrated wail, laying his head down and indulging in a terrified cry, rocking.  No, no, no.  Not back to this.  Not back to endless pain and lying on a cement floor.

“Hello?  Kane?”

His head snapped up as he heard a woman’s voice upstairs.  Liz.  Fear surged through him again—the huntress.  She’d restrained him.  She’d shot him, and then restrained him, and then left him here.  Why?  Why hadn’t she killed him? She'd probably killed the other vampire, right? Finished him off with a stake to the heart?

Why hadn’t she killed him?  He let out a fearful sob.  No, no, no, not Liz.  Liz thought torture was sick, too.  Liz was above that.  Right?

Liz appeared in the doorway at the top of the stairs.  Kane tried to control his breathing and failed, kneading the air with his cuffed hands as he hyperventilated.

Liz delicately descended the stairs, eyes locked onto him.  He had to look away after a few seconds, out of fear.

“Hi,” said Liz, with an audible grimace.

Kane’s chest heaved in panicked breaths, each one hurting more than the last as the bullet fell deeper into his organs.  He opened his mouth to say something, but a jolt of even more intense pain cracked through him as he did so, leaving him breathless.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” said Liz.  “Just listen.”

Kane tried to talk again, breath hitching in his throat as the bullet burned its hole there, entire torso feeling like it was on fire.

“I’m not going to apologize to you,” said Liz.  “Ever.  For anything.  But…I will thank you.  Thank you for protecting Jim.  And I will say…I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions, and I shouldn’t have shot you before hearing you out.”

Kane was barely listening.  Tears of pain welled in his eyes.  He tried to lay as still as possible, but it didn’t alleviate the growing pain.

She sighed, seeming not to notice.  “I know it’s kind of shitty to tie you up like that, but I didn’t have many options.  There’s nothing to tie you to, and I…well, I didn’t feel comfortable with you being able to move around with nobody home, you know?  You can’t run with the ankle cuffs on, but you can certainly walk out the door.  I had horror visions of you waking up and just walking out the door.  I’m sure you understand.”

Kane gave up and started to writhe again, hoping that maybe it would draw Liz’s attention to his predicament.

“Well?” said Liz.  “Say something.  Jim is fine by the way.  Not that you asked.”

Desperation growing, unable to cope with the idea that she might leave him like this without realizing, he used what little strength he had remaining to rear back slightly and slam his torso into the ground, hoping to dislodge something.  He felt all three bullets rattling, settling into new positions.  Two of them lessened the pain, but the one in his lung definitely got worse.  He cried out, raking yet more pain through his body and spitting up fresh blood.

“Kane?” said Liz.  “Can you not…Oh fuck.  The bullets.”

Yes, yes, god yes, please, the bullets, the bullets.

“I’ll get them out.”

No!  No!  Let me do it!  He shook his head, desperately hoping it wouldn’t be interpreted as leave them in.

“Fuck,” said Liz, sounding like she was giving a second thought to her I won’t apologize to you for anything, ever stance.  She knelt down, withdrawing a silver key.  “Don’t try anything.”

As soon as she unlocked the handcuffs, Kane rolled over, silver-laden lungs crunching at the effort of trying to supply his activities with oxygen around the intrusion.

“You’re not going to—” said Liz as he curled his hand around his chest, doing exactly what she was afraid he was about to do.

He plunged his hand into his chest, tearing the skin and muscle away, desperately clawing at it and re-opening the mostly-healed bullet wounds.  His fingers sunk in deep until he felt them burn on the tip of a lump of silver, which he grabbed and tore out, tossing it onto the ground.

“Fuck,” he wheezed, lungs still full of holes.  Liz looked like she wanted to offer to help, but had no idea how.

The other two bullets were easier to get out.  They tinkled to the floor, silver pips covered with blood.  Kane lay there gasping, but slowly recovering.  He lowered himself back to the floor, groaning.

“Did you get them all out?” said Liz.

He nodded breathlessly.

“Well…Jim’s supposed to come back from the hospital tomorrow.”  She shuffled uncomfortably.  “I don’t know if I trust…if…”

Kane wordlessly extended his wrists out to be re-cuffed.

Liz knelt and tightened a cuff around one wrist, then brought it behind his back to attach it to the other.  It was behind his back, but at least she hadn’t re-done the hogtie.

“Don’t try anything,” said Liz, climbing back up the stairs.  “I’m going to come back and check on you later.”

Where could I even go? Kane thought.

---

Jim was back the next day as promised.  Jim was back.  Safety was back.

He was a little unsteady on his feet still, but Liz was there to help him.  She supported him as he sat in the easy chair.

Kane was in the corner of the basement, not having worked up the energy nor the courage to climb the stairs in Jim’s absence.  But he lifted his head at the sounds from upstairs, Liz and Jim murmuring to each other.

“Kane?” said Jim’s voice.  “Can you come upstairs, please?”

Wow, that was a good question.  Could he?  He used the wall to support himself, inching his way up with his chest on the wall, legs wobbling underneath of him.

He deserved this.  Jim deserved to have Liz help him get around, and Kane deserved to have no one help him.  But that didn’t make it hurt him less.

With some effort, Kane managed to climb the stairs.  He was a bit unsteady on his feet as well, but with his hands behind his back, he could hardly use the railing.

He came up.  Jim was in the easy chair with Liz on the couch.

“Hi,” said Kane hoarsely.

“I think you can take those off now, don’t you, Liz?” said Jim.

“Fine.”  Liz came over and uncuffed Kane’s wrists.  Kane sighed gratefully and sat down on the floor across from Jim, not wanting to be near Liz on the couch and wanting to be facing Jim.

“I should thank you,” said Jim, after a moment of smiling at him.  “Both for saving my life, but also for…”  His chest rattled with chuckles.  “For not taking the fucking door off the basement to maul me, since apparently you could have done that any time you wanted to.”

Kane was stunned.  He hunched slightly, hands on his legs.  “Jim, I…I didn’t think I could do that before.  Couldn’t have done that.”

“If I hadn’t fed you, you mean?”

“No, if—if you hadn’t been in danger.”

Jim stared at him, brow furrowed together.  “Me being in danger gave you the strength to break down a silver-lined door?”

Kane drew his legs around himself.  “I-I had to help you.”

“Why?” said Liz, narrowing her eyes.

He drew his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them.  “I—I—I know I can’t ever make up for what I did, but maybe, maybe if I can keep Jim safe, it could be a start at least.  Keep him safe—he doesn’t deserve to be hurt by anyone ever again.  Jim, you’re—you’re so, so kind.”

Jim stared at him.  “Damn, I…”

Kane stiffened.  “I’m sorry—if that was wrong to say, or…”

“No, I…”  Jim rubbed his head.  “I mean, I know you always say all that stuff when I help you, but I guess I just kind of assumed you were saying that because you thought I wanted to hear it, and that at the first opportunity you’d overpower me again if you could. I figured you were just saying that stuff because you were scared of me.”

Kane looked up at him with horrified eyes.  He unfolded himself and crawled to sit next to Jim’s chair.  “Jim, I—I—No, I mean it, I’ve meant everything.  You—You’re…  The thought of you being hurt like that—the thought of—a vampire—the way you cried for help—cried to me for help.”

Liz’s gaze was steely.  “He did that because of the abuse you put him through.”

Kane lowered his head onto Jim’s hand and started sobbing.  “I know.  I’m sorry, Jim.  I’m so sorry.  I don’t know how to make you see how sorry I am.”

He felt a light touch on his head.  When he looked up, Jim was looking down at him kindly.  “Well, if you hadn’t been here, I might be toast right now, so I’d say you’re off to a pretty good start."

Kane beamed.

[silv3rswirls]

What Am I Lacking?

Anon asks: Stray kids request here !! the concept is where the reader is the one that plays/fvcks around with the member’s feelings (can be any skz member) bc I’m tired of the reader always getting played and would like to see one of the boys getting played. thank you!

Summary: He knew you didn't care; you just liked knowing that you had him by the heart. ( Hyunjin/reader)

Warnings: Toxic relationships, mentions of depression, mentioned smut nothing explicit, the reader has she/her pronouns, reader is a bad person

Word Count: 2.5k

Music recs: | Hideous | love u | Even If Its a Lie |

His eyes are glassy and unfocused, lips parted ever slightly as he became lost in the sight of himself. Tousled and sweaty hair from practice, clothes lazily thrown on that morning with no thought or worry about style. Hyunjin can’t make out the finer details of his face or clothing, his eyes refuse to zero onto his reflection. He’s a blur, a colorless blob before the mirror. He doesn’t even realize the tears brimming his eyes until he’s forced to blink away the burn, letting teardrops fall down his cheeks and catch on the curve of his nose and lips.

It seems that no one has noticed or become concerned with his distance, sitting across the room in a corner of his own. Facing the mirrors rather than the other members. His legs curl and tense under his body, growing stiff under his weight. He thinks about moving and stretching out but doesn’t. The sting is uncomfortable yet good at the same time.

You were the object of Hyunjin’s spacy behavior today.

Up and down the both of you went, or rather, how you went. Hyunjin, from early on in your relationship had been undoubtedly committed. He liked you, maybe even loved you. But when it came to your feelings for him, Hyunjin struggled to keep up. You were hard to read for him, you were selective with your affection towards him. Sparse with communication. People told him that what he had with you wasn’t really a relationship. It was off and on so frequently, Hyunjin could understand their point. The majority of the time the two of you were stuck in a loop of talking and meeting up, unofficial dates and nights spent together; yet rarely did you allow him to call it a relationship. Sometimes, when he rarely heard from you and you ignored his heartfelt messages Hyunjin was left with a bad feeling. He had that dread in the pit of his stomach that you were with someone else, which wasn’t unheard of. The two of you weren’t official or anything, so he told himself he didn’t really have a place to tell you not to see other men. Nothing about this seemed to bother you, so Hyunjin told himself it didn’t bother him.

But, it did. It bothered him a lot.

Spending nights lying there, hoping his phone would flash with a message from you. It would go on for months. He, barely eating and trudging through his days with the best mask he could put on for everyone else. At this point, despite trying to keep it a secret, all of the members knew vaguely about his off-and-on relationship. Some knew more than others. Some nights, when feeling at his lowest, Hyunjin had recited all his worries to Changbin after the elder found him glassy-eyed in the kitchen late one night. Rarely did Hyunjin feel the need to talk about it, though, everything was so complicated in his head that it was easier just to keep it to himself.

Hyunjin sighs, shoulders slumped as he dries his eyes and fans his face a bit to get rid of the redness. Practice is over, some of the members grabbing their things to leave while Minho and Felix seem to be staying behind a little longer. Changbin and Chan talk of heading to the studio to work on their newest project, while Jisung mutters something about meeting up with them in a bit.

Hyunjin decides to head back to the dorm with Jeongin and Seungmin. He felt more exhausted than usual, the toll of thinking of you all day setting in. Right now he just wants to lay down and sleep his worries away. “I was going to come to you sooner, but you looked like you needed some alone time?” Jisung hurries to join at Hyungjin’s side, walking beside him and far behind Seungmin and the maknae. “Are you alright? You were really off today.”

“Just thinking too much is all.” Jisung nods but keeps his eyes trained on his friend for a moment longer. His eyes brimmed red, his lips turned to an almost frown, and his overall sluggish appearance was concerning, but not surprising. His friend had been going through it fairly roughly, and it was a shame to have to see him like this over the likes of some girl.

“Did something happen with her?”

“We just haven’t talked in a while.” Hyunjin left it at that because that was all that was bothering him, right? He knew he shouldn’t ignore the other things, but right now all he wanted to do was just talk to you. He wanted your affection, but for the past two days his messages and calls went unanswered.

“I know you really...like her” Jisung searched for his words, “but don’t you think she’s doing you more harm at this point?”

“I really don’t want to talk about this right now.” Hyunjin shook his head, “It’s complicated, you wouldn’t understand.” Again, Hyunjin left it at that, and reluctantly Jisung did as well, letting him leave. Hyunjin rode back to the dorm with Seungmin and Jeongin, listening to them talk on and off and trying to throw his input in here and there as not to arouse their sympathy and questions. When they got back he was happy to take a quick shower and crawl into bed, wrapping himself up in his covers with a sigh of relief. Seungmin was out of the room doing his own thing, as was Jeongin.

Hyunjin’s peace was short-lived. His phone chimed a few times beside where he lay. He assumed it was Jisung or Chan asking him about today since things had been so off with him. Rolling onto his stomach and resting his head he opened his messaging, finding neither of the names of his bandmates waiting for him; instead, it was yours.

Hyunjin, despite how down he had been not too long ago, felt his heart jump at the sight of you contacting him after two days of nothing. You wanted to meet up and the question- phrased more like a demand for him, made Hyunhin nibble his lip in contemplation. He wanted to see you so bad, to hold you and talk to you like any doting couple would do. He wanted to kiss you, arms tight around you, and you looking at him with just as much adoration as he gave you.

But he knows, deep down, that is not what is going to happen.

Hyunjin replies to you and jumps out of bed to get ready, brushing through the tangle that his hair had become while tossing around in bed. He gets dressed, throws a sweatshirt on, and goes to get his shoes on. He can hear Seungmin and Jeongin playing video games in the front room, so he makes sure to be extra quiet while leaving; not in the mood to explain himself.

The two of you always met at the same place, a bus stop a few blocks away from the dorm. Once you arrived you’d usually take him somewhere, sometimes out with your friends for some fun, but more often back to your apartment. He didn’t mind waiting for you, he always got there first. He always arrived much too early, not wanting you to have to wait on him. As much as he had made the wait, the nervousness never went away. The little butterflies fluttering all around his stomach still ticked him every time he thought about seeing you. It always felt like the first time he had been introduced to you, always felt breathtaking.

Hyunjin stood from the bench when he saw your car pull up. As many times as he insisted he could always get his own ride to your place, it made him happy that you seemed to like picking him up. He couldn’t hide his smile as he got in, turning to you with sparkling eyes. “It’s been a while, right?”

“Yeah” you hummed, “I’ve just been busy, you understand.”

Hyunjin nodded, he could understand being busy, but...it made him shift a bit in his seat. He knew you couldn’t have been that busy judging by your social media posts. “I messaged you...a lot” he sheepishly laughed it off, “you never replied?”

You turned to him, lips curved in a small smile and little sincerity in your gaze. It made Hyunjin’s throat run dry; you were so pretty. “I saw them but forgot to reply. You sent a lot, kind of clingy don’t you think?” You commented, Hyunjin scanning his surroundings as you drove.

“I was just expressing my feelings,” he smiled, “you know, I really like you.”

“I like you too.” Hyunjin left you alone at that. He quietly listened to the radio, sneaking little glances at you every now and again. You decided to stop by the convenience store next to your apartment complex, running in to grab a few things for the evening. Hyunjin watched you walk in, talking on the phone as you did. He let out a deep exhale, wanting to calm his nerves before you got back. He could see your building from the parking lot and he looked up to your floor with mixed emotions. He wanted to spend time with you, but why did the two of you always have to go back to your place?

He noticed your wallet had fallen on the floor, so he grabbed it and hurried in to give it to you. He looked around, spotting you turning down the snack aisle, phone still glued to your ear and voice chatting away. He hadn’t even been able to get a word out before he heard you, “He didn’t seem like the clingy type when I first met him, but it’s gotten so annoying.” You huffed, “he thinks this is something more than just fun.”

Hyunjin bit his cheek, fingers curling tighter around your wallet as he listened. “I hate to do it, he’s great in bed and all, but I can’t stand anything else.” You giggled at whatever your friend on the other line said, “whatever, I have plenty of guys waiting for me. Not like Hyunjin’s going anywhere, he’s so fucking in love with me. It’s kind of sad.”

He didn’t need or want to hear anything else. He went back to the car quickly, tossing the wallet back onto the floor and balling his hands up in his lap. He didn’t want you to know he had heard and it was taking everything to stop the little tears beading in his eyes from falling. “Have you seen my wallet- oh there it is.” He looked at you with a mustered-up smile. “Why didn’t you bring it to me?” You teased, swatting at his arm before dropping your phone on your seat and heading back in to pay. Guilt weighed on Hyunjin's mind as he watched your phone, buzzing with texts and notifications. He couldn’t help it, so he picked it up to read the notification bar. He recognized some of your friends’ names but anxiously chewed on his cheek at the guys’ names he didn’t recognize. Did you really have all sorts of other guys? Deep down he had known but hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself. He threw your phone back down and checked his own phone, leg bouncing as he listened to you return and start the car.

When you got to your place, Hyunjin took a moment alone in the bathroom. He splashed some water on his face and collected himself before going back to find you picking out a movie. Like always, the movie wasn’t watched all the way through. Hyunjin couldn’t remember ever finishing a movie with you. Like usual your cuddling turns into wandering hands trailing over his thighs, touching, rubbing on him while he tries to ignore it at first. But like always he melted under your attention, giving in.

He tried, he really did. But all he could think about was what he had heard you say about him; that he was just good in bed but you couldn’t stand just talking to him. So he just laid there and let you take control, trying to fake some kind of interest despite how spacy he felt.

Thinking about you with another guy sent uneasy shivers down his spine. What could be so great about anyone else? He knew he was attractive, talented, going places- how could you not want him the same way he wanted you. What could another person have that he didn’t? What did he lack? Hyunjin felt his chest tighten as he thought about it.

Maybe he was just lacking more than he thought.

When everything was over and the night came to an end, it was time for him to leave. He always forgot about when you would kick him out for the night. He caught a taxi home, face pressed against the cold glass of the window. He always forgot this feeling, it happened every time. He just knew when he thought of you with someone else, the self-loathing and insecurity set in. He was Jealous of every other person you shared your love with; how can he compare?

But you said you had feelings for him, you said you liked him too- were they really just lies? Did you really have no feelings for him?

When he gets back to the dorm it’s nearing two in the morning, but he spends some time just standing outside of the front door. Too lost in his head to go inside just yet. Despite the cold nipping at his nose and his lip trembling, Hyunjin willed himself not to cry. Was he ugly? Was he too thin, or did he need more muscle? Was he annoying, did you dislike his voice? Did he move too fast, proclaim his love too hard? Why couldn’t you look at him after he spent the night with you, why couldn’t you ever just look at him? Talk to him, cuddle with him, anything. Did he mean that little to you?

He knew he did, you just liked knowing you had him.

“Hyunjin? What are you doing out here?” It was Chan’s voice questioning him, the leader having just gotten home as well. Late night in the studio he supposed. Hyunjin cleared his throat.

“I was just…” He looked at Chan with watery eyes, “I was just…” his voice grew weak, breaking under the pressure of tears blurring his vision. The moment he felt Chan get closer he burst into tears, messy cries shaking his body and leaving him unsure of what to do. He felt Chan take him in for a hug and he buried his face into his friend’s shoulder. “It hurts” he choked out, “why won’t she- why…”

Was it that wrong to think you had loved him?

[softkuna]

Toji Fushiguro || Toy || Fic

The Sukuna one had me like ✨✨✨ Now I must ask, can you- a toji x fem reader and him seeing Gojo eyeing up what's his and her responding to it and then toji being like oh hell no and basically railing her as punishment (degrading kink please it makes me jello) you don't have to write it if your not comfortable btw take your time and stay safe.

Content   ║ Toji Fushiguro x Fem Insert. Toji’s shoulder pressed into the wall with such a force the damn thing could’ve dented. Arms crossed tensely against the broad puff of his chest. His teeth ground together, the sound of squeaking canines reverberating in his mind.  Toji was seething. For a man with the physical prowess of a god, his tolerance was about as thin as a wet napkin. A wet napkin this woman decided to poke a well-manicured finger into.

Count      ║ 1,311 words.

Consider ║ NSFW. Degradation Kink. Objectification. Female Insert (she/her). Alcohol. Grammar issues. Basic degeneracy.

Creator    ║ So this is the first NSFW thing I have done like this ;v;. I’m not sure if this hit the mark for ya Anon, but hopefully it’ll do until I can get some more practice. It took a little while since I wasn’t exactly sure what I was doing. Honestly this just feels subpar gomen. Enjoy jealous Toji, though -finger guns-.

The club was barely lit with black light and neon strewn about the solid concrete walls in seemingly random intervals. A particularly bright hot pink one cast across her collarbone, dowsing the tops of her breasts deliciously in contrast to the black latex dress. As much as Toji would like to shove her against that very wall, she had a job to do. For him. And he regretted it.

  She was pushing her luck when she approached the table with a certain sway to her hips. Gojou peered around the tinted sunglasses, brow piqued in interest. She flashed a smile, smoothly setting a large bottle of some random high percentage alcohol onto the table. Sliding into the booth next to Satoru, the woman leaned a hand on his leg, the other moving to playfully snap the strap of a birthday hat under his chin, “I hear it’s someone’s birthday?”

  His head tilted up along with the corners of his lips, “Guilty as charged. Are you my present, doll? Always heard the hostesses here were the best,” His voice purred against the thrum of the bass. She tucked hair behind her ear, eyes flickering back to the ravenette with a dangerous composition. The corner of her mouth twitched up at the obvious frustration resonating in the man. He couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t even dream of it if he wanted any semblance of information on this guy. It was the perfect opportunity to test a theory. Toji was the jealous type.

  Toji’s shoulder pressed into the wall with such a force the damn thing could’ve dented. Arms crossed tensely against the broad puff of his chest. His teeth ground together, the sound of squeaking canines reverberating in his mind.  Toji was seething. For a man with the physical prowess of a god, his tolerance was about as thin as a wet napkin. A wet napkin this woman decided to poke a well-manicured finger into.

  He slammed down a shot, the burn at the back of his throat accompanying the burn of his own gaze. She wasn’t anything to him aside from an in. Yet somehow, the not-so-shaman made it a point to speak with her at least once a week, which usually lead into fucking her like a play thing. The lay was just as good as the information she could pry out of loose mouths. Immaculate. This go around, he needed information on someone in particular. Someone who just so happened to be here with a group. Someone who decided it would be a good idea to get a little handsy with his toy.

  “Y’know,” Satoru murmured, “’s pretty sad to be alone in bed for my birthday.” Chilled pads of his fingers rested at the back of her neck. His gaze was hungry and she was a full course meal. Just his type. Perfect shape, perfect charm, perfect headrush. Her hand cupped his ear, whispering something his buzzing mind couldn’t fully piece together against the dense music.  

  She kept up the sweet act despite not getting a lick of information. The only dirt she dug up was that he could finish half a handle before getting buzzed. By the end of the night, Gojou’s hands squeezed at her thigh like he did her last string of patience.  

  The last thing Toji saw was the exchange of cards.

  -

  As the black-clad hostess passed by Toji, her hand trailed along the muscles of his chest, stiletto nails pressing just slightly into him. He followed close behind until they got to their regular spot. A private room tucked into the corner of the club. Commonly used for rich men thirsting to empty their wallets on a good lap dance. It was sound proofed, dimly lit, and somehow hot pink velvet was a prime design choice to set a steamy mood.

  She crossed her arms, gaze hard as the door shut, “So, I’ve got bad new. He didn’t let a word slip-“ The sentence stopped as soon as it began.

  “So doll’s got a sense of humor, huh?” His voice held an edge to match the snide smirk flashing over pointed canines. She knew exactly what was up and oh was it a dangerously delectable sight. One that made her cunt throb on nothing but adrenaline. The crease of his brow, the way his lips set into that hairpin curl, the tensing of each thick muscle along his arm – all of it leaving a sense of satisfaction in the pit of her stomach. Theory confirmed. He took a step closer; she didn’t shrink away. A lost challenge if he’d say so himself.

  A large calloused hand shoved her onto cushions of the booth, catching her open mouth in his own with a bruising force. The man wasted no time with his prodding tongue, tasting the sweetness of peppermint and lapping it up while fending off her own slick muscle.  A hand snaked into the roots of her perfectly done hair, white-knuckling just at the base of the skull. With a sharp yank, her head was yanked back, allowing break for air. Smug and breathless, she chimed, “Jealous?”

  Toji blew air out in a single blackened laugh, “I’m not one to share my toys.” Teeth connected to her lips, rolling the flesh then moving to her throat. Purple marked his territory trailing down. The heat of his breath tickled the space directly next to her ear, “Now, you’re going to beg for me to forgive you. Make myself clear, slut?” Toji’s grip on her tightened, “Or is doll better for something getting used?” A rough tug to the back of her hair triggered a low moan from her heaving chest. After so many sessions, she knew he didn’t really want an answer. He wanted a reason go harder.  

  The hand once in her hair now gripped her jaw, keeping her gaze on him, “Answer me, toy. Or do I need to pull a string to make that cock-obsessed mouth move?” On que, free digits wrapped around the gusset of her thong, second knuckle just grazing the entrance of her heat before he pulled the sodden fabric taught, letting it snap back to place. The impact triggered another empty clench and gasp. Her hips writhed, a sappy pout puffing the bitten lips. More.

  Toji maintained her heavy-lidded stare as he brought the knuckle to his lips. He watched as her own parted when his tongue swept up the sweetness collected at the joint. The way her hips rose to match the zipper’s height, the lock of her teeth on her finger, the desperation in her eyes – all of it made his stiffened cock twitch against her adorably hopeless grinding, “Looks like my toy is broken. Guess I’ll just fuck the apology out of it then.”

  A wicked grin whipped onto his handsome face. Her mouth opened in rebuttal, only to get interrupted, “This is to teach a lesson, toy. What did you do to deserve the prep?” The gravel in his tone grew slightly dark, “Couldn’t even get the dirt I paid for.” His long digits did work past the gusset, slipping over her entrance, gathering the arousal, “Look how wet you already are for me.” A heated coil pressed in her at the words. She knew what was coming now and every inch of her craved it.

  In what seemed to be a single motion, jeans and boxers were torn down. Her dress was hiked up with a satisfying peel, thong quite literally ripped off and thrown to the ground before she was flipped so that her back was pressed against his chest. Sturdy, veined arms wrapped at the backs of her thighs and under her knees. Truly, she was a doll for him to pleasure himself on and he made it a point to do so.

  Toji lowered her so that the thick tip of his length pressed against her heart-beating heart. Her walls fluttered around him as he slid in. “For a broken toy, you’re pretty damn tight for me - ready to be played with. Get used- fuck.” Amusement broke through as she bit back a breathless sigh. His cock filled her easily, slick sliding down his shaft and pooling at the base. As he fully sheathed himself, he craned his neck forward, lips pressing at the shell of her ear, “Now, I want to hear you beg, bitch.” With that, the man snaked back and up, setting a relentless pace from the beginning. The sound of skin slamming into wettened skin filling the room along with the aroma of arousal.

  She was stubborn. He was tireless. They’d both cum before the apology even had a chance to.