#don't drink the punch

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: @kazutora-kurokawa is at it again, inspiring me and stuff. To be fair, I've been looking for some redeeming quality about this asshat - and tbh, I've not found anything. I think he's a lost cause, guys. Also, ningyō = "doll" and "human shape" in Japanese. I hope I'm not offending anyone with my little nicknames for reader. It's not my intention. I'm just trying to make it cute <3.

C/W ::: Kisaki x F.reader, morning M->F oral , really sweet Kisaki (where the lies come into play), just gross. So sweet and full of lies it's gross. Don't @ me about the massive inaccuracies here lmao. I'm fully aware.

WC ::: Just over 1,100

MDNI UNDER THE CUT, PLEASE//THANKS!

“Mmmaaahhh, where do you think you're going? Don't leave bed yet. Please?" Kisaki was so needy in the mornings. It's been like this since the beginning of your relationship. "Stay. Just a few more minutes?" He begged.

"Kisa', a few more minutes is the same universal trick as just the tip. I know that if I stay here for a few more minutes that we'll fall back to sleep and the whole day will be fucked." You smiled down at him from where you stood at the edge of the bed.

"You know ... you, too, could be fucked, ningyō. Come on. I felt you rubbing your ass against my dick all night." Kisaki was trying so hard to get you to listen to him.

"I was freezing my ass off and scooting closer to you so I could warm up. You always leave the window open like a psychopath. I mean, y'know. You are. That's all I was doing. It wasn't sexual." Laughing at him you noticed he furrowed his brow and frowned.

"You just like teasing me." He turned over in bed and pulled the covers up to his chin.

"I am not a tease, Kisa'. You're just a big baby." You were starting to feel bad. So you sat down and pulled the covers back from his face and tucked your fingers under his chin instead and kissed him. "How. How do you always have the best breath in the morning. You're an anomaly. A complete freak of nature. You defy logic."

"Please come back to bed. I need you." Did his lip tremble? No. You're seeing things.

"I need you too, Kisa'. But we have work to do today. I'm already running late."

"Then come back to bed and we can be late together." He reached up and pulled your shirt, dragging you closer and closer to him. To be fair, you weren't really putting up a fight. Your legs were already against the bed and you had no resistance left in you.

"Okay, maybe a few more minutes. But if we fall back to sleep, you're making breakfast." You smiled and laid down next to him.

He buried his nose in your neck and absorbed your scent and heat against his face. His stubble tickled you, making you tip your head to the side to keep him out as best you could - even though you wanted all of him all over you.

"You smell so good, ningyō. Like home." He breathed in again, nuzzling deeper into you.

"Well, I am home, so it makes sense."

"You are my home. My family." Kisaki's voice was soft and quiet. You felt him move closer to you, but didn't think anything of it until you felt his teeth on your shoulder.

"Hey! What are you doing?" You tried to push him away, but he held you tighter.

"I just want a little taste." He whispered and sucked on your skin, marking you.

"Kisa'! No! We can't right now. We'll be late!"

"Then don't let me fuck you. All you have to do is make me believe you don't want to do this. That's all." He bit down a little harder, making you gasp.

"Stop! Stop or I won't let you touch me at all." You laughed so hard. He always made you laugh. This was a side of him that no one else got to bear witness to. The kind and gentle Kisaki. The playful Kisaki. The Kisaki that made your heart burst with love.

He pulled away and licked the mark he made on your skin. It was red and tender to the touch. You could tell it would be purple by the end of the day.

"Kisa'. Please." You couldn't stop laughing.

"Fine. You win." He sighed and rolled away from you. "Just kidding!" He got on his hands and knees and scooted down under the covers, working his way between your legs. "I'm hungry for a different kind of breakfast."

"Wait! Kisa'! You said you wouldn't fuck me! No!" You tried to grab his head and stop him from moving, but he was already under your shirt and pulling your panties down.

"I never promised anything. Just that I wouldn't fuck you. Not that I couldn't make you feel good." His tongue was soft and warm against your folds. "Just lay back and enjoy it. It won't take long." He hummed against your cunt and sucked on your clit, making your whole body shake.

"Kisa'. Noooo-hahahaaaa! Please. Not now. We'll be la- fuck, god." You couldn't stop yourself from grinding against his face. You were so weak for him. And he knew it.

He pushed your legs wider apart and moved his tongue faster, pressing it deeper into you, rubbing your clit just hard enough that you'd feel it but soft enough that you sought him out more.

Your back arched and your eyes rolled back. You gripped the sheets and felt yourself gush over his face as he sucked every drop of you from his lips.

He pulled himself out from under the covers and kissed you deeply.

You adore how he kisses you. It's perfect. His lips are perfect for yours. His tongue is perfect for yours. The taste of you on his tongue is perfect. It's all perfect.

"You're a brat." You whispered, pulling him closer to you.

"I'm your brat and you're perfect. Come on. Let's go to work." He laughed and jumped off the bed, dragging you with him. "And you know, you have to return the favor tonight. So be ready."

"Don't worry. I'll be ready." You kissed him again and held his hand as you walked to the shower together. "And I'll make sure to lock the window so you won't be able to open it and freeze me to death while we sleep."

"Fine. But you can't lock me out of your heart, ningyō." He smiled and turned on the water. "Let's hurry and get cleaned up. We have a day ahead of us."

You smiled at him and shook your head. Kisaki was something else. But you loved him. And you'd love him forever.

"Kisa', you know I'm never leaving you, right? You don't have to keep marking me like this. I'm already yours. Always."

"I just want to make sure everyone knows who you belong to, ningyō. That's all. Now, let's get ready. I'm starving." He pulled you into the shower and started washing your hair, massaging your scalp with his fingers and humming a tune that made you melt.

This man was really and truly something else entirely.

Taglist ::: @katkitkats @arlerts-angel @viburnt @darkstarlight82

[dylanconrique]

believe me, i am fully aware that we're nowhere near getting polin babies, there literally has been no inclination of that ever being a thing (at least this season), but i can't help but cackle at the thought of colin and pen being quick to get pregnant with their first child, but their first is a girl (like in the books) and, "of course, we love our daughter to death, she's our little princess. but we still gotta secure that featherington heir, so round two this time!" and the next time we see them visiting bridgerton house, colin is sporting an adorable mini pen on his arm, while penelope's heavily brewing with their second child that could come at any day now.

[snowyfrostshadows]

My one and only personal headcanon is that Luigi will consume THE most disgusting **** known to man with ZERO side affects due the whole. Perfect Vessel for the Chaos Heart thing he's got going on

Mario, meanwhile fears for his brother's life each and every time he catches him with one of his Death Concoctions

[kakashihasibs]

Unfortunately realizing being sober means I'm basically straight edge

[silveredsticks]

x

[writings-on-the-moon]

I don’t know if it’s a headcanon for the sake of angst, or if people genuinely believe this: but where did we get the idea that Morro starved Lloyd to make him easier to possess?

At least, when I look at this dialogue.

“This armor, it weakens me. At the same time, Lloyd is fighting my possession.” - Stiix and Stones.

“Lloyd's spirit continues to fight my possession. He's getting stronger.” Peak-a-Boo.

“Save your strength, because I'll be needing it.” - The Crooked Path.

This whole Possession has been a double-edged sword. Now especially that last line? That’s the main reason I highly doubt Morro was starving Lloyd. Whatever Lloyd feels, so does he. If Lloyd is hungry, hurt and weak, that’s not going to be helping anyone. Not saying this makes Morro a nice guy, just that for all that he’s got a list of wrongs; starving someone likely isn’t one of them.

[deva-arts]

More boogerman! something tells me Eric's having fun in the spotlight

With some bonus doodles!

Sera will remember that.

[tricornonthecob]

Newly immigrated Sarah Phillips at Yorktown, Oct 19, 1781

[kimchokejin]

Tagged by @seoksao to do the "which character" personality test and post my results and honestly thank you so much for tagging me this was so fun because i'm obsessed with comprehensive personality quizzes (shocker) and i got a bunch of my coworkers to take it too and i loved seeing everyone's results! i could fit my top 46 in the screenshot so that's what you're getting

i could also see which character i was like from specific shows so they're not on the list but i was also similar to eric from that 70s show, jonah from superstore (a callout), peeta from the hunger games, and reid from criminal minds <3

Tagging: don't be nervous you can do this @courtthisdisaster (if you wanted to post it!), @blueside-hobi, @cheekyquokka, @hopeinthebox, @mutedstring, @not-so-secretly-mairon, @stardiviner13, and anyone who sees this!

[plifpliff]

Waiting for your fireteam to show up 🥃

(maybe her punches after were a bit imprecise but heh ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ )

[hyperpsychomaniac]

Welp. I think Gerda wins the dubious honour.

Gerda was probably my last pick personally. Not because she shouldn't punch him... out of these three, she cops the most crap from Ahlberg. Mostly cause she's just so nice and probably rarely if ever would deck somebody just because they deserved it.

And then I thought about it and oh yeah I came up with a situation where she would...

***

“I understand. Things… they got out of hand.”

“No, Gerda,” Erik admitted. His voice was low; no one in the crowded bar would overhear. His next words still came haltingly. “I knew I was riling the Trolls. The bells - I knew they wouldn’t stop them. I wanted them angry, and… and it worked!”

Gerda stared at him, but no accusation came.

The knot in Erik’s stomach undid itself. “It didn’t get out of hand, because I intended it end in a fight; I’d planned it all. All after reading Hilda’s essay. But I see how stupid it was, and… oh, Gerda, it feels so good to get this off my chest! I knew I could count on-

Something slammed into his head, and the bar spun out from under him. Erik’s ears rang, and then his face slapped onto the sticky floor. The roar of voices cut back in, only to fall into stunned silence.

Gerda stood over him, fist still bunched at her side, tears glinting in her eyes. “What you did… the danger you put this city in… that was on purpose!?”

Erik’s face flushed hot, the blood pounding against his bruised cheekbone. Every eye was on him, knocked on his ass. Worse, waiting to hear his answer.

The only sound was the squeak of the bartender’s rag as he patiently cleaned a glass - and slammed it down on the bar. “Ahem!”

Gerda flinched. Slowly she straightened, looked about at the bar’s patrons and at the bartender. She flushed and lowered her gaze. “Sorry.” Then she spun on her heel and left.

The sound of conversation slowly picked back up. Someone hauled Erik up and plunked him back down on his barstool, giving his shoulder a quick pat. The bartender shoved a glass into his hands. It was chock full of nothing but ice.

“There’s no alcohol in this…”

“That’s for your face. And I suggest you use it - that was a hell of a right hook. You’re lucky you’re a big guy. As for a drink, you want one, you buy one.”

The conversation and chink of glasses had returned to normal; everyone chatting with their companions. And him, at the bar, alone with nothing but his pint of ice. Gerda was gone. She was supposed to have understood. If not her… who else was he supposed to confide in? Hilda? Or perhaps he should let her have a swing at him, too. He deserved it. He had nothing but his adoring public. But they too, if they learned what he’d done, would surely turn on him.

“… totally inappropriate… she’s in uniform too…”

“…heard his speeches… probably a pain in the ass to work with…”

“…bet they were sleeping together…”

Erik stood, and his barstool screeched loudly on the floor. The volume in the bar dipped again. He fled.

[scenicphoenix]

Whatever happened to the phrase "I'm only human" I think that needs to come back. Because a lot of people are thinking human means perfect these days and it's pissing me off. Human is literally a synonym with imperfect!

[meneatyoghurt]

I love Paul shouting "Tomm-ay" when Tommy gets on stage. The actions of a man who is several drinks deep.

[barkingangelbaby]

no but I miss smoking weed I miss being high I miss intentionally dissociating I miss feeling numb I miss not having to think I miss existing in a space without physically feeling it I miss I miss I miss

[feralnumberfive]

Good morning to every organ in my body except my stomach. Get your shit together

[snailsweater]

I think VegasKim works because Kim looking at Vegas is Kim looking at a slightly distorted mirror. Kim would be Vegas if Gun was his father, they are very similar in their nature. In a universe where Gun and Korn are not unhinged, I can imagine Vegas chilling in Kim's apartment, reading a book while Kim is working on a song, they enjoy art, they enjoy spoiling and protecting the people they love, they enjoy physical pursuits, and both are good at combat. They both are ruled by their emotions even though they try to come off as cold and calculated. And I think it's the same for Vegas, Kinn is his competition, but Kim is like a parallel universe version of him, and I think while Vegas could be jealous that Kim has more than he does, he can see past that and knows that Kim is just as caged that he is. I really wish people wrote more Vegas and Kim stuff (romantic or not).

Anon. Anon, wait a friggn second, hold up. You are a fucking genius, holy, oh my, I am loosing my goddamn mind!

It makes total sense!

And you also filled my heart and brain with the picture of a cozy, homey Vegas chilling with Kim….

Vegas turns the page, lost in thought by the familiar motion and the sounds of Kim's guitar playing in the background. He feels how the notes link into his noisy thoughts, silencing the strain and the constant racing of the deeply rooted rules and expectations. It allows him to be.

Kim closes his eyes, his fingers pressing over the strings of the guitar in a melody he doesn't yet know, running up and down the slender fingerboard as he fills the silence with more and more new sounds. Peace. Silence, yet full of life. His foot begins to tap to the rhythm. His heartbeat echoes inside. Power. Strength dancing along his nerves and muscles. He transfers the beat to his leg until his knee follows and he begins to drum his knuckles against the body between each note.

It's a melody, new and appealing. It reaches for his mind, weaving new life around images and memories.

Vegas's fingers make his knife dance beside the book on his lap. A silver twirl that slowly descends until the tip of the knife taps against the cover of the book in time with the beat. Irregular, smudged lines play around the end where the blade sinks into the handle. His head falls back on his neck, a grin, teeth bared, eyes glinting. Kim's gaze meets his across the room.

"Dum-deu-dum-dum…"

The impact takes his breath away. The back of his head slams into the stone, sending his mind into zero gravity. A mad, delirious laugh bursts from Kim's lips. The hand on his neck is fleshy and rough. The fingers clawing behind his larynx, blunt and clumsy.

For a moment, he lets his hands hang beside his body. A second in which his opponent thinks he has the upper hand. Then that head smashes to the side, expodes in front of Kim's eyes before he closes them. Blood rains down, soaking his clothes and hair.

"You're getting sloppy, Nong." The title was tinged with mockery. Vegas lunges again with the scantling and rams the end into the stomach of his closest opponent. He goes down, mouth open but unable to scream.

No hand is held out to Kim. Instead, fingers claw into his shoulder and yank him up. Again, his back hits the wall, stone hitting bruises and abrasions.

"Nong."

Vegas. A piercing look in his eyes, hair wet from the rain, silk shirt rumpled. The scantling rests on his shoulder. The slipped collar exposes a clavicle where the dark shadow of a welt blooms.

The silence in response makes him change his posture. His stance becomes wider, his body more tense. His eyes begin to calculate the remaining opponents. Who all would he be able to take out….

"Feels like you're lucid dreaming." Vegas growls and shakes his head. His hand on the scantling tightens, the former trash becoming a deadly weapon in his hands.

His other hand grips Kim's shoulder, whose laughter slowly dies away. The grin remains as his fingers falteringly tap against Vegas' tense stomach.

"That day will never come." Kim pushes him aside with a jerk. His hand closes around the knife on his belt. Adrenaline surges through his veins and legs. Three steps in a sprint and he jumps.

The impact of his weight yanks his attacker off his feet and the knife him out of existence.

Vegas drags him back to his feet from a crouch before his low position would be his undoing. Stumbling, Kim staggers to his side. Their shoulders meet and his head jerks up. They're not done yet.

The movements come automatically. Their bodies remember before their minds do. Seamlessly, they slide back to back. Kim, knife in hand, the other clenched into a fist and raised to eye level, body centered. Vegas, eyes locked on his attackers, cracks his neck.

"Don't disappoint me now Nong." A hiss over his shoulder. He doesn't turn around. The blind spot doesn't exist, because inside it waits Kim.

"Watch out…" the younger man warns quietly, lips raised in a smile. "I'm going to steal your show."

Vegas laughs as he twirls the two-by-four. Blood drips onto the street. And soon it would fill the puddles and soak the pavement.

"Dum-deu-dum-dum-dum…"

Kim's fingers continue to dance across the pages, bringing the sleeping instrument to life and filling the room with a new warmth.

He senses a hunch, an inspiration coming within reach, but he can't separate himself from the sounds just yet. Only a few chords later does he let the last note die away and reach for his notebook.

Vegas watches the gleam of his now-clean blade in the dim light of the apartment.

"Next time, you keep your hands off my stuff and use your own, got it?" The sentence has no real anger behind it, but the warning is clear. Kim smiles. The movement tears at his open lip. Blood seeps onto his tongue. "Not everyone is happy with a weapon made out of fucking trash."

Vegas snorts, the knife dropping to the empty cushion beside him. He turns his head and lowers his eyes back to his book, the weight of the pages familiar and soft in his now clean hands.

"You should be creative Nong." He turns the page. There's a rustle, accompanied by Kim's pen scratching on music paper, capturing the inspiration he's just gained.

"Why would I?" Kim's answer is casual, his mind already lost between words and lyrics to the new song. His fingers tap the music sheets in sync with the beat.

"When it comes down to it, I'll just grab your stuff again."

Vegas growls something unintelligible, but the smile on his lips betrays him.

The apartment sinks into silence once again, interrupted only by the occasional flipping of book pages and fingers drumming on the table.