#i can stay inside and draw and read or do absolutely fuck all

[bipirate]

Please weather app do not fuck this up for me. Last week you said it was gonna storm and it didnt. Stick to your word this time

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

HCs of Alfie with a younger wife? Like in her mid 20s 💕

Hello my darling!!! I’m sorry this took forever! But I am back!!! Please enjoy this little nugget. Also y’all HCs are so fun!!!! Maybe I should do more.

He wasn’t planning on marrying a younger woman. Let’s be honest he wasn’t planning on getting married PERIOD.

But then you blustered in…

You came in. Full of wisdom so far beyond your age. Full of confidence that came from the knowledge that you were the best you you could be. Full of light that he thought would flee from a man like him.

He immediately was drawn to you. Your soothing voice that brought down his rage, which so quickly could come full force against him when he got too brash and foolish, reminding him that there’s no need to destroy what was not yet broken.

Despite the incurable draw to you, he said he would stay away. Be respectful. Be a respectful old man.

You would have none of it. Because truthfully he wasn’t that old. He was just snippy and preferred his habits. He hadn’t been a young man ever since the war. Regardless what his birth certificate said.

In truth it didn’t take too much to get him to relent. He’s just a man in front of a beautifully infuriating woman. And after a screaming match ending with you laughing at his reddening ears and hoarse voice, he let himself finally say it, “Right then. Now only my woman gets to screech at me like you do. So I’ll see you tomorrow night? Take you to the pictures and maybe dinner?”

And soon enough he asked for your hand, rumors and shaking heads be damned. He needed you more than air, and for some reason you loved him just as much.

Alfie expected his life would change once you were moved into his home. Was only natural. But he didn’t expect to change THIS much.

Or that he would like it. That he would feel like a chasm he didn’t realize he had was finally sealed up and healed with the first morning he woke up to you next to him.

Younger yes. Unorganized you were not. And very quickly upon your arrival did you see the bachelor pad state and work your magic to rectify. To turn this dragon’s cave into an actual home. Curtains and windows finally opened to let in fresh air. Ledgers and letters were filed away. The garden in the back finally being tended to to indicate actual humans lived and loved on the premises.

Remember that Alfie has been a bachelor the majority of his life. Any pretty women which came into his life were quickly shoo’d away. So to say he was puzzled by your… womanly… tools?? Weapons??… was putting it lightly.

“My dove now what the fuck are these? They look like tiny dinner rolls.”

“They’re rollers Alfie! For my hair! Gives it the wave.”

“Right right hair wave rollers yes of course. Now what about these… powders and things?”

“My rouge and lipstick darling.”

He didn’t get it at all.

Though Alfie is partial to opera and the absolute classics, he adores the new music you bring home. His family in Boston adore you immensely and have taken to mailing you the newest records in America.

If you’re extra sweet, you can usually coax him to dance with you, spinning yourself around him in a tizzy. By the end of your evenings he’s drunk without even a single sip of rum.

He’s never been so happy. So care free. But there is this nagging feeling in his stomach. One that won’t go away. That maybe you’re not truly happy. That you’re secretly wishing to be back out with the young people. To go out dancing in pretty dresses instead of in the living room in your dressing gown. To be fawned over in illustrious restaurants instead of cooking dinner together most nights. Had he robbed you of your youth simply because he’s selfish?

He never tells you this. No being a man means keeping your feelings inside and not letting your woman see you less than perfectly confident. (His words not mine)

But you read him so easily. It’s easy when you love someone so completely. Especially if your lover gets the deepest scowl on his face when he’s troubled, staring deep into space.

When you finally coax him out of him, he merely grumbled like a shifting mountain, trying to brush it off.

But oh how he wished he told you sooner. You assure him that you never really enjoyed the clubs and high society outings. You much preferred to stay home with your friends and other loved ones. What could possibly be out there that could even come close to what you have in the house.

When you do manage to get out of the house, either to the cinema, walking Cyril, venturing out for dinner, or because you insisted that walking is good for him, he is fully aware of the stares.

Some are… disapproving. As much as they can be towards the King of Camden. But the ones he is most irritated by are the love sick stares of the young men who trail after you. Clearly covetous and stupid enough to be blind to the beast that walks close beside you.

He is shocked you don’t notice. When he brings it up to you, you merely laugh, “Why would I be noticing men staring? The only man I’m concerned with is you.”

That comment makes him smirk wickedly, grasping firmly to your waist as you laughed brightly, swatting his chest playfully when he growls in your ear.

For all your ferocity and fiery eyes, Alfie still dotes on you and frets over you. Little presents are common. He insists on you bundling at the slightest drop of temperature or precipitation. And begrudgingly “permits” you to attend to errands on your own (you and everyone else knows he would never forbid you unless it was truly dangerous. But he loves to rile you up and tease).

You’ll never want for anything being his bride. Nothing is off limits for you. Even if he does make a show of pulling out bank notes, groaning about how his bank account suffers. Even when he’s the one that insists on buying you new things.

He may be the older one, but you are some how so much more wiser and practical. Anchoring him to the present when the nightmares come. Secretly convening with his doctors to heal the deep aches and malaise. He insists you’re magic.

To some it’s unconventional. Your love doesn’t make sense. But to those who truly know, you’re a match made in heaven.

[ponderingmoonlight]

JJK men sharing a bed with (y/n) part lll

In case you haven't read the other parts yet, here they are: JJK men sharing a bed with (y/n) part l Satoru Gojo sharing a bed with (y/n) at a love hotel (part ll)

This is the first time ever that I'm writing for Yu and Choso, so please let me know what you think<3

Pairing: Toji x reader; Geto x reader; Yu Haibara x reader; Choso x reader

Word Count: 3,7k

Warnings: Some language, a loooot of fluff in every part!

Toji Fushiguro

You blink against your heavy lids, head pounding the second you are greeted the dim light of the room. Immediately, your body starts shivering from the cold that prevails wherever you are. What happened? How did you end up here? It looks like you’re in a basement, a stony and dirty one. Your trembling figure lays on top of a bed as it seems, feet chained to the frame. Fuck, how did you end up here?

“Oh, look who’s awake. Did take you quite some time, sweetheart.”

His voice sounds distant and unpromising, the cheeky tone vibrating in it sending shivers down your spine immediately

“Where am I?”, you question with surprisingly firm voice.

“Hm, to be honest I’m not sure. Are you comfy or do you need company?”

He steps into your sight and your breath hitches for a split second. Yes, the man standing in front of you is extremely handsome, with shoulders built like cannonballs and his tight shirt that shows every trained muscle of his body. And that face…oh, what a lovely face. But the darkness that radiates from his eyes makes your stomach drop. This man means nothing but trouble.

“Touch me once with your filthy hands and I’ll slice it off”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

Desperately, your worn out body fights against the chains on your ankles as his frame draws closer, but there’s absolutely no chance for you to escape.

“I wonder how long it will take Jujutsu High to get that you’re gone”, he comments, hand gripping your chin firmly so you are forced to stare into his cold eyes.

“Huh, you’re quite handsome. No wonder that Gojo boy likes to spend time with you. You’re quite feisty though.”

You forcefully pull away from him and stare down at your shivering figure. They will find you, right? They just have to…

“Comfy, huh? I’m actually a little worn out myself, would you mind to scoot over a bit?”

“Stay. Away. From. Me.”

Your words are like venom, eyes so dangerously flashing at him that Toji escapes a chuckle.

“Your cold, bet I can warm you up a little.”

He doesn’t give a fuck about your little protest. Instead, he pushes you against the wall and lays besides you, body’s forced to touch inside the small bed.

You can’t help it. Before you get a grip of yourself, your cheeks turn dark red while you gaze at him through glittering eyes. Fuck, why does he have to smell so absolutely delicious? And the heat that radiates from his body seems to warm you through skin and bone.

“Hehe, I knew you’d like that. First time lying next to a real man I guess.”

“No, your just stinky”, you blurt out.

His face drops immediately, as well as what’s left of your sense of humor and spirit. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was a bad idea. A really really bad idea.

“You aren’t really in the position to have a big mouth, sweetheart.”

With a swift motion, he lays on top of you, gaze piercing through you as all you can do is to writhe underneath him. Fuck, this feels so good…What? You shake your head, try to calm your hammering heart down. What the hell has gotten into you?

His hand cups your face with a tenderness that you wouldn’t have believed he’s capable of while he eyes you up and down.

“You should be glad. Not many women end up in bed with me on top of them. Today is your lucky day”, he breathes out.

“That I don’t laugh”, you hush.

Your mind and heart are all over your place. Suddenly you aren’t cold anymore but burning hot, the sheer weight of his immense body seems to crush you.

But why on earth does it have to feel so good? This man kidnapped and chained you to this tiny bed. It is obvious that he only causes trouble, not even a gorgeous face can change that.  But the way he looks down at you, his firm body pressed against yours makes it harder second by second to not stretch out your arms to investigate the valleys of his tight muscles.

“You don’t seem to mind sharing a bed with me the way you press your legs together.”

Caught. You hold your breath and look at the ceiling. This will end horrible if you don’t start keeping your composure and stop acting like a horny teenager. This man is evil, he kidnapped you, you are his hostage-

Your hands hold onto his broad shoulder tightly, roaming all over his black shirt.

“Maybe just for a minute or two…”, you mumble.

Geto Suguru

Your heart skips a beat when you catch a glimpse of him and he perfectly made man bun through which you recognize him from miles away.

Geto Suguru is back. Finally, after days, he made it back to Jujutsu High. Your feet start running on their own, too impatient to wait another second.

“Woah, easy there (y/n)”, he laughs as you lung yourself at him and burry your face in the crook of his neck.

It was so easy to fall in love with Suguru, especially when the two of you spent so much time together.

“I missed you so much”, you mumble against his uniform, arms tightening around his chest as if your life depends on it.

“I missed you too, (y/n). Heard that Satoru wants to throw a party, do you know anything about it?”

With furrowed brows, you let go of him. A party? Satoru didn’t mention the slightest about it.

“No, I’m completely clueless. But I’m set on an important mission tomorrow anyway, so no alcohol for me”, you reply.

“Fair enough. Let’s get something to eat, okay. I’m starving.”

For the rest of the day, Gojo makes no secret out of the party he will throw that evening in his (and Suguru’s) dorm.

“I really hope you’ll catch some sleep tonight���, you comment while smiling at Gojo, who desperately tries to convince Nanami to come.

“If not, I’ll just sleep at your dorm. Be prepared”, Suguru jokingly remarks.

Your heart skips a beat. Suguru sleeping at your place? The thought alone makes your stomach flutter in excitement and your cheeks go red. Way too many nights you dreamed of this to happen, to experience what it’s like to rest your head against his chest while he wraps an arm around your shoulder while his even breaths brush over face gently. Gojo really doesn’t know how lucky he is to share a room with Suguru.

“I’ll be ready. Just knock on the door twice”, you giggle.

“Check. I have to get going now. See you tomorrow before your mission. Or tonight, who knows.”

Yeah, who knows?

- Later that evening –

Knock knock.

Your eyes snap open immediately. Did you dream that? Your still sleep drunken eyes dart towards the door. Oh, please let it be real. Let it be him.

“Suguru?”, you whisper into the darkness of the room.

No response. Maybe you just desperately hoped it to be him. It’s nothing new that Suguru haunts you even when you sleep after all. Your heart sinks, while you turn to the side. Hopefully he has a great night.

Knock knock.

Instantly, you sit bolt upright in bed. No, this wasn’t a dream. You heard it loud and clearly. Before thinking twice you get up and open the door only to get greeted by his smile.

Oh, that gorgeous smile.

“Is your offer still valid?”, he whispers into the peace of the night.

“Sure, come in…”

You didn’t get the chance to see him like that often, dressed in an oversized grey shirt, shorts and his messy hair let down. But he sure does look breathtaking. So breathtaking that you forget how to move for a moment.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Do I look this bed?”, he asks while scratching the back of his head.

“No, not at all. You look absolutely handsome”, you blurt out.

Screw your fast mouth, why can’t you think and then speak?

“Oh, don’t flatter me (y/n). Not when you’re the one that’s looking absolutely gorgeous at the moment.”

Your knees threaten to give in any minute, sleep-drunken eyes just staring at him in disbelieve. This has to be a wonderful dream, right? Like the ones you try to rewatch over and over again. But no, Suguru is standing right in front of you, his soft smell radiating from his stunning figure. This is very real.

He clears his throat.

“Looks like the party won’t end anytime soon and I’m just too worn out to be awake another minute. Would you mind going to sleep? I’ll take the floor.”

“No, absolutely not”, you protest.

No way in hell is Suguru sleeping on your floor after a difficult mission.

“I’ll sleep on the chair”, you suggest.

“No way in hell, (y/n). I’m your guest and you’re leaving for an important mission tomorrow.”

“Then we’ll have to share my bed I guess”, you say your thoughts out loud.

Thick silence hangs in the air. God, you wish the floor would swallow you whole. What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you suggest something so dumb? There is no way that Suguru wants to share a bed with you-

“If you don’t mind, I’m in”, he replies.

You have to blink a few times, did he really just say yes?

“Do you like sleeping on the wall?”

“Y-Yes…”, you stutter.

“Then get in.”

Your feet follow his instruction on their own, carrying you back into bed. The mattress gives in under his weight, causing your arm to slightly brush against his.

“Oh, I’m sorry”, you mutter awkwardly.

“Don’t be. I always liked to be touched by you”, he admits.

Your heart stops.

“(y/n), what I want to say is that…No bed is as comforting as spending my time with you. I just feel like I like you a little more than just as a friend…”

“I love you”, you breathe out without thinking twice.

God, how much you love Suguru Geto. No matter how long he’s gone, no matter how often you told yourself that there will never be more between both of you than a friendship, you always craved more.

You always graved him. Completely, everything from him.

He wraps his arms around you so tightly that you just know this has to be real. No more dreaming, no more imagining. Suguru is laying right by your side, holding you close to his body.

“Thank god Gojo throws that stupid party tonight”, he comments, hand gently caressing your face.

“Thank god this dream became real…”

Yu Haibara

You jump up and down in joy, giggling loudly at the sight in front of you. Finally, it is this time of the week again. The time of your movie night with Yu.

“I knew you’d love some sushi, so I thought I’d surprise you!”, he announces, smiling widely.

You don’t know how or when it started. Since you’re both in first class of Jujutsu High, you always spent a lot of time together. Right at the beginning you both discovered your passion for good films. One thing lead to another and now you’re having a movie night each Friday.

It’s way more than that for you, though.

“You’re the best!”, you yell in excitement, embracing him in a tight hug.

“No, you’re the best. Come on, let’s waste no time.”

He grabs your hand and pulls you with him into his dorm.

You can’t believe your eyes.

“Oh my”, you breathe out.

This is way too cute. Yu decorated his room with candles and a fairy light, windows completely darkened. His bed is turned into a blanket castle, tv directed towards it. Your heart flutters, tears start stinging in your eyes.

“You didn’t have to do that”, you hush, absolutely mesmerized by how magical the room looks.

“I wanted to do something special for you tonight, (y/n).  Since you are so special to me”, he explains briefly.

His chocolate brown eyes stare down at you with nothing but affection in them. If you could, you would melt away in an instant. What a sweet and caring boy he is. Always there for others, careful about putting a smile on the faces of those around him. You can’t help but admire him for his beautiful soul and character. God, you truly don’t deserve this amount of kindness.

“Oh Yu, I think I need to cry.”

Tenderly, you wrap your arms around him once more, take in his soft scent that sticks to his white shirt that you love on him so much.

“Come on, no need to cry. Let’s get into bed instead!”

Gently, he pushes you into the mattress and hands you a pair of chopsticks.

“As it’s my turn to choose a film, I decided on something Ghibli”, he proudly announces.

All you can do is stare at him in awe. He is so breathtakingly gorgeous that you can’t believe you sit next to him on his bed. Every Friday, your heart skips a beat when gazing upon his features. He makes it look so easy to smile in a world that seems hopeless most of the time, always optimistic.

“Are you okay, (y/n)?”

You shake your thoughts away, cheeks redden. Damn, he caught you staring. He smiles softly at you, hand gently brushing against your arm. Oh, you see stars.

“Yeah, just a little overwhelmed I guess…”, you mumble.

“No need to be overwhelmed. You deserve the world! This is a small gesture compared to how great you are!”

By the way his eyes light up you can tell that he truly believes in his own words.

“Hey (y/n), would you mind cuddling a little? I guess I just really love your hugs.”

Time stands still, you fumble for words. If you mind to cuddle, with him? Absolutely not. No, this is what your dreams are made of.

“Not at all.”

“Great!”

Gently, he wraps his arm around your shoulder and positions the blanket on top of both of you, sushi placed on his lap. You let your head sink against his shoulder, closing your eyes for a moment. Oh, how much you longed for that Friday nights, how much you adore his touch. The unusual sensation of him asking for cuddles sends a shiver down your spine and makes your heart flutter in excitement.

“You know, I love it when we lay in my bed and watch movies. It’s my highlight every week”, he confesses casually between eating some sushi.

“Really?”

“Of course! Your great company and your taste in movies is exquisite.”

You let out a cute little giggle at the way he dramatically pronounces the last word of his sentence, index finger stretched out in front of his nose. Yu never failed to make you smile.

“I just hope this never ends. I really like you, Yu…”

Your confession sounds so strange coming out of your mouth, but you can’t hold it back any longer.

“Well, I really hope you do considering you are my girlfriend!”

Girlfriend!? Your eyes dart at him in shock, mouth hanging open while your mind fumbles for the right words.

Girlfriend? He never mentioned that he’s in a relationship before, especially not with you.

“I mean, you are my girlfriend, right? After all we’re spending so much time together and it’s clear that you like me and I like you”, he adds, confused by the way your expression changed.

“You know that normally, people ask each other out, right?”, you enquire, still staring at him like an idiot.

Yu simply shrugs his shoulders while gifting you with another of his breathtaking smiles.

“Why asking if I already know that we like each other? Seems pretty unnecessary to me. Or do you not want to?”

You can see the way his grin slightly drops at this possibility. No, no, no, this is absolutely not what you wanted.

“Yes, yes, yes. I absolutely want to”, you blabber out.

He lets out a laughter, arms wrapping themselves around you tightly while your heart hammers against his chest. You’ve been imagining a relationship with him for so long while he’s been living in it for what seems like weeks? You giggle into yourself, shaking your head in disbelief. Somehow, this is absolutely typically for him.

“I’m glad you’re with me in this relationship now”, he notes.

“Yeah, me too…”

Choso

“Oh my god, this is just way too exciting!”, you blabber, eyes darting around the dark hallway to soak the moment in.

“You know you’re getting kidnapped, right?”, Choso questions.

“But this is my first time getting kidnapped!”, you clarify.

Wow, this is unusual. You seem so unbothered by the fact that your life is in danger than even Choso himself is too stunned to speak.

“Are you gonna torture me too!?”

“What the hell is wrong with you, woman?”

The enjoyment that lights up your eyes, your hands not even trying to fight against the chains and how you roam around in pure pleasure. This was supposed to be a blackmail attempt in order to tease Satoru Gojo out. After all, you are one of his precious students. But it seems like it doesn’t work out like that at all.

“You aren’t human, right? Hm, let me guess…”

“I’m incarnated, dumbass.”

“Oh, that’s really interesting! Would you mind telling me more about yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Can I touch you?”

“No.”

“What a bummer…”

You sign as you look up to his tall figure.

“You’re actually quite handsome”, you comment casually.

Irritated, Choso grabs your shoulder and pushes you against a nearby wall, absolutely thrown off course by your sudden compliment.

“Aren’t you at least a little scared of me?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“I mean, the others told me that you are a special grade and I’m a grade 2, so I’m no match. But you don’t seem like a bad guy to me at all, more like quiet and introverted”, you explain briefly.

Urgh, that spark of innocence in your doe eyes makes it hard for Choso to seem unpromising. Maybe it would have been better to send Mahito after you…

No. Something inside him resists this idea. No way in hell will Mahito get is dirty hands on you.

Choso shakes his head and lets go of your shoulders, continuing to escort you. He has a mission to finish, after all.

“May I ask why you brought me here?”

He stops in his tracks while side-eyeing your frame.

“You’re here to attract Satoru Gojo.”

Even from afar, he can’t help but admire your features. Yes, you are very easy on his eyes, the way you stare at him in nothing but admiration, as if he’s something special apart from his outstanding abilities…

What the hell has gotten into him? He is a half cursed spirit, feelings like affection have no place in his world. You are nothing more than an annoying mission to him.

“I’m sorry about what has happened to your brothers”, you suddenly blurt out.

He can’t believe his ears. Slowly, he turns around to face you, features completely twisted in anger until he looks in your eyes.

Your eyes of innocence that are filled with nothing but sadness and sincerity.

“That’s none of your business”, he spits at you.

“Oh, but it is. My people are responsible for you being miserable and you seem like a genuinely nice guy”, you remark.

How ironically, he thinks to himself. To be called nice by a jujutsu sorcerer. You two couldn’t be more different. It’s your job to exorcise curses like him, curses that threaten humanity.

“Get in there”, he instructs you.

You follow the direction of his stretched out finger without thinking twice into the small room on the end of the hallway.

“Pretty nice for a prison, wow, there’s even a bed!”, you cry out and jump on the mattress.

It’s pretty hard, you have to admit. But better than what you’d imagined being held hostage would be like.

“Are you staying here with me?”

“I have no other choice. You’re my mission and I’m in no mood for trouble.”

“Oh, that’s cool! I’d love to chit chat with you!”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at you. After talking non-sense for half an hour, you now lay passed out on bed, snoring softly. How are you even able to close an eye when your life is in danger? If he wanted to, he could kill you without blinking. He signs to himself.

He wouldn’t do that though. Not when something about you seems so mesmerizing. Is it the way your hair falls so perfectly and frames your face? Or how you carry yourself with so much confidence that not even a cursed spirit can break your optimism? Maybe your effortless beauty is the source of all evil.

It’s just…you. He allows himself to get closer, sitting next to your passed out body on the bed. You look so peaceful, as if you’re just lying in bed, waiting for another day to arrive. He wished he could be so carefree, so cheerful.

Gently, his hand caresses your cheek. Why do you have to look so damn lovely, even to him?

“Can you hold me?”, you mumble sleep drunken.

He holds his breath. Fuck, did you just catch him stroking you? No, your eyes are still closed and a few seconds after those words escaped your lips, a soft snoring is heard again. You talked in your sleep. You asked him to…cuddle you.

Carefully, he places himself besides you on this way too small bed, arm hesitantly wrapping itself around your waist. Oh, you feel so warm, your sweet perfume tingling in his nose. What a truly lovely human being you are, so different from all the other people he has met yet.  Maybe…Maybe you are indeed different. Maybe not all humans have to be killed.

“Can you scratch my head?”, your acquitted voice requests.

“Don’t get greedy”, Choso warns you, before massaging your head.

[achilles-rage]

NSFW Alphabet

evan buckley x plus size!reader

A/N: hi besties<333 this is my first time writing so pls don’t absolutely tear me to shreds (just a little bit is acceptable though). i’m planning on making a SFW alphabet for buck soon as well but some of the letters had me drawing a blank lol. also, although there’s not really much mention of it, this is with a plus size reader in mind. as a plus size girly myself, it sucks to read x reader stories and knowing in the back of your mind that it wasn’t written with your body type in mind (although there’s nothing wrong with writers that do that of course). i just thought i would add to the plus size reader community because there are barely any buck fics and i believe in my heart that he loves plus size women. anyway, enjoy <3

MDNI- 18+ Only

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

When y’all finish he’ll wait a few minutes before pulling out, head buried in your neck as his breathing gets back to normal. He’ll kiss your neck and tell you how good you were for him, before finally getting up to clean you up. After that he wants to lay with you and talk, just enjoying each other’s company, maybe y’all will make some food if you feel like it.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: Probably his arms. He’s worked hard to be as fit as he is and he enjoys using his arms to move you/lift you while you’re having sex. He takes pride in his appearance, he knows he’s hot, but it’s an added bonus that he can lift you up and do whatever he (or you) wants.

Yours: I am of the firm belief that Evan Buckley is a thigh man. He loves how they feel in his hands, he loves how they look when you straddle him, he can’t get enough. He loves to see them jiggle when you move, or when he playfully smacks them. He loves thick thighs and I will die on this hill

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This man has a BREEDING KINK OKAY!!! He loves to cum inside you, fucking deep into you and feeling his cum fill you up. He loves watching it slowly dripping out, so he can finger it back in. If that’s not your thing I think the next best place would be on your stomach, watching your face as he lets go, seeing the way he marks you up. He loves your little tummy, how it moves as he ruts into you, so he loves it when you let him cum all over it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I only call this a dirty secret because he would never tell anyone about this after the last time it happened and he got fired. He wants to fuck you in the fire engine SO BAD. He can’t help but think of the way you would look as he fucked into you quickly, trying not to get caught with your dress up around your waist. He knows it’s not gonna happen, he’d never hear the end of it from anyone in his life if it did, but god he wants to so bad.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Girl have we watched the same show?? This man FUCKS!!! We all know (and love) Buck 1.0, and we know he knows what to do. Buck 3.0 might mean him changing into, well, not a sex addict, but that doesn’t mean he forgot his training (🫡). I think he understands that every woman is different, and while he might not get it exactly right the first time, he’s a fast and eager learner, watching what exactly makes you squirm and moan the most for him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Canonically, Buck LOVES when you ride him, and I agree. He loves to watch you move yourself on him, able to grab at your thighs, and your hips, and your chest. He also loves to move you on him, squeezing your hips tightly as he sets the pace if you start getting tired or if he just feels like it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I mean, he’s Buck, he’s truly a golden retriever of a man and cannot stay serious for long. I think he’s a bit of a mix, he can be serious in the moment, but at the end of the day, he’s still Buck, and Buck is silly goofy.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps it nicely trimmed, carpets match the drapes. In terms of his partner, he really doesn’t give a fuck. He’s seen it all and could not care less as long as he feels the way you wrap around him so perfectly.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Buck 3.0 is a man of TASTE, but that being said, I think he only really pulls out the romance during special occasions. Most of the time this man wants to freak nasty, but sometimes when he’s tired, or just feels especially in cuddly/clingy, he’ll be more romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does it pretty often, of course not when he has the option to fuck you instead (and you’re willing, of course), but if you’re not with him and he needs a quick release, he getting right to it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding: I will scream this till the day that I die, this man wants a family more than anything. Whenever he’s inside of you, he can’t help but think about how pretty you’d look with your belly all round with his babies.

Praise: Look at this pathetic little guy, he needs to be praised, he thrives on it. He loves to hear how good he feels, how good he’s making you feel. This goes both ways. He’s in your ear immediately telling you how good you feel, how well you’re taking him, how pretty you look.

Spanking: HEAR ME OUT!! While I’m not sure he would actually bend you over his knee (but honestly the more I think about it he might) he would LOVE to give your ass a nice little swat as you’re riding him. He loves the sound it makes, and the sound you make because you’re not expecting it. I don’t think he’d ever do it hard enough to hurt too much, but I think enough to make your ass a little red would definitely be something he could get behind (lol).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He doesn’t have a ring cutter in the kitchen for nothing<3

I think he likes to have sex at home the most, on the bed, on the couch, on the kitchen counter. You name it, he wants to fuck you there. His favourite is the counter because he loves seeing you being so domestic in the kitchen. Making dinner, cleaning up, whatever, he wants you right then and there and cannot wait. He’ll come up behind you, wrapping his arms around you as he kisses your neck before slowly turning you around to face him and lift you onto the counter to have his way with you.

While he’s moved on from having sex in public places that could (will) get him fired, he’s still into it, but in less obvious places. If y’all are in his car and you’re looking a little too good in his passenger seat, he loves an empty parking lot quickie. Front seat, back seat, whatever you want, he’d be pulling you onto him as soon as he puts the jeep in park.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Girl ANYTHING gets him going, it would take one look, one touch, one word and this man would be ready to go. I think what really gets him going though is seeing you with kids or getting along so well with the 118. This man truly just wants a silly little family and someone that can get along with the 118fam, so seeing you like that has him making up a stupid excuse to leave a little early so he can take you home and have his hands all over you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Like I said before, I don’t think he would do anything to hurt you too much, other than the occasional light spanking or biting. He would also not be into any kind of age play or pet play, he’s pro kink but it’s just not for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

This man is a giver and I stand by this. Dear god he loves nothing more than having you spread open for him, hands tangled in his hair as he makes himself at home between your thighs. He loves having his hands gripping your thick thighs, feeling them on either side of his head. When you start to get squirmy from the overstimulation he’ll place a large hand over your lower stomach, holding you still as he pushes you over the edge again.

With all that said, he will definitely not say no to getting head. He loves seeing you look up at him while you’re on your knees, trying to take all of him. He’ll keep a hand in your hair, pulling it softly every now and then, and he can’t help but moan and whine as he gets closer and closer, eventually cumming down your throat as he squeezes his eyes shut.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the day, but most of the time he likes it rough and fast. He loves a good quickie, meaning it kinda has to be more fast paced and rough, and he’s pretty easy to get riled up, so when you drop any sort of hint, he’s on you immediately and ready. On other days where he’s feeling extra clingy and lovey, he’ll be more of a slow and sensual guy, but I think for the most part he loves to fuck you deep and rough.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Like I said, he loves a good quickie. A lot of the time he craves a quickie before work, needing to feel you before his long shift. I think they happen pretty often, but he’d much rather take his time with you, using his fingers and mouth before he fucks you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As long as there’s clear communication he’s down to try pretty much anything, he’ll do anything to make you happy (within reason). I think he’s also a risk taker (also within reason, he has to think about not getting fired again, of course). Buck 1.0 is still inside him somewhere when it comes to sex so he definitely loves a little risk, but he’s grown enough to know where the line is.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

While he would love to go as many rounds as possible, I think it would realistically be 2-3, lasting about 10-15 minutes each round. I think he would be the type to like having some time between rounds, tension still high as you talk and lay around before he's back on you again.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Once again, he doesn’t have a ring cutter in his kitchen for nothing<3

He likes them, he definitely owns a few toys of his own. Vibrators, cock rings, some handcuffs or restraints, he’s very open to anything that increases y’alls pleasure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He does it sometimes not really meaning to, like he does something and you’re like….dear god…and maybe he doesn’t notice the first time but the second time he does and WILL keep going until you snap. He loves the way you get all squirmy and whiny and desperate for him, knowing you want him as much as he wants you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

So vocal!!!! Literally that meme thats like “y’all afraid to make noise in the bedroom?? i be in my girls ear like…” He loves dirty talk (on both ends) and he can’t help but let out low moans when you’re clenching around him. He also loves hearing your breathless whimpers, making him feel like he’s doing a good job, and encouraging him to pull more sounds from your lips.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If he was in a relationship during the whole sperm donor thing, it would be the longest few weeks for both of y’all. I imagine the first time he has an appointment, you make sure you’re waiting for him in a cute little matching set, knowing how excited he was to finally be buried inside you again, hearing you whine as he fills you up. He’s so frustrated when his appointment doesn’t work out that he doesn’t let you know how it went, instead being unpleasantly surprised when he sees you sprawled out on his bed when you get home and unable to do anything about it. He wants nothing more than to rip your pretty little set off your body and run his hands up and down your soft curves, but he can’t, and it’s torture. You apologize (but he will hear none of it because it was a lovely surprise, just shitty circumstances), and instead you change into an oversized shirt and sweatpants to enjoy a completely normal (and not sexual at all) night on the couch.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

8 inches, thick, no complaints <3

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

HIGH!!! This man is thinking about sex 24/7, and if he could, his hands would be on you at all times.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Most of the time I think he stays up for a while, just hanging out and talking to you. But if he comes home after a long shift he’s fucking GONE in 5 minutes tops.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

click here for my masterlist!

click here to be added to my taglist!

click here to read my request rules!

[nateezfics]

you know how Hongjoong likes to take photos? dresses you up in lace and silk, sits you down on his dick and takes polaroid of you absolutely cock drunk as he fucks you, another photo of your lips etched in red lipstick around the head of his cock, another of your chest splattered in his come to show he’s claimed you, the same red lipstick being used so that he can write all over you, another of his name written above your heart on your chest to feed his possessive side, another of his cock resting against your stomach so he can see just how deep he can reach inside you. debauchery.

we love debauchery here, yes we do!

ok, so, this is immensely hot and i’ve been slow to respond to this simply because my brain shuts down every time i read this. like, i can’t form coherent thoughts. so the best way i can go about this is to break it down lol. there’s a lot to take in (heheh;))

hongjoong has a whole portfolio of you in various states of undoing. he would dress you up in lingerie in his favorite colors, he’d also just leave you completely bare because he loves to see you fully exposed to him, but he’d also dress you up in his fav pieces from balmain (whether it’s pieces he got specifically for you or his own balmain garments). and then, just photographs you taking his dick, capturing the way your body goes limp and pliable for him. he loves to save the pictures of you being the best little cockslut for him, those are very dear to him.

hongjoong likes to put the red lipstick on for you. he sits you on his lap, maybe even while he’s in you, and gently colors your lips with the red pigment. pushes you to your knees and watches the way your red lips wrap around his cock (he specifically gets lipstick he knows will smudge, just to see the way his cock turns red from it). he’d love to see how messy the lipstick gets, knowing he’s the one who ruined it (and you). these pictures of your messy red lips around his cock are sinful, and he revisits them often!

the artist in him takes over when he lays you down and begins drawing on your skin with the lipstick. he’ll make your body his canvas, doodling designs all over you, highlighting every part of you he adores (which is all of you). opens your thighs and writes “mine” on your thighs, with arrows pointing to your pretty pussy. definitely writes obscene words like “cockslut” and “pretty whore” and “cum dump” all over you. shushes you when you squirm, and will even finger you with his free hand to placate you while he continues drawing on you. snaps a pic of everything he drew on you.

his absolute fav pics of you are the ones he takes of you with his fresh cum on your chest, dripping between your breasts. his possessive side eats this up. loves to claim you like this, because you’re his and the pictures of you being the prettiest little cum dumpster for him prove that. he has a soft spot for taking pictures of his cum leaking from your cunt. he almost cums again at the sight.

snaps photos of his dick resting on your lower abdomen, absolutely in awe that you manage to take him in full. hongjoong praises you for how good you take him, saying shit like “this tiny pussy takes my cock so good”, “this pussy loves to gorge itself on my cock, yeah?”, “no matter how many times i stretch you out with my cock, your pussy always stays so tight for me”, and “you were made for my cock, baby”.

[duskier]

sorry I'm like.... obsessed with the idea of gaz just LOVING it when you're all soft and sleepy and clingy in his arms. not just because he gets to enjoy his little gf needy and wrapped around him like a little koala but also because he could do anything to you and you'd be whining and begging for it. there's been countless nights where he's had to mind you sleepily climbing into his lap and nuzzling your face into his neck, hips absentmindedly finding the ridge of his cock through his jeans and grinding until he's chubbing up in his pants. one of his arms is steady around your waist to make sure you dont fall, rubbing gentle circles on you skin to keep you in that dazed and half asleep state. the other one is under your skirt, pushing your panties aside and spreading you open so you're ready to take him and when you do, your head just lolls against his neck as you mumble his name half asleep. he thinks you're so fucking adorable like this while he's rocking into you gently. his cute little sleepy darling <3

AUUUUGH anon you get me, you are in my head, this is my lifeblood, omg,,

I don't read/write this as somno but gonna tag it as that just in case !

Gaz who loves you being sleepy because YES you are a little heat seeker and he is a radiator, a match made in heaven. Loves you being a heat seeker because he loves being physically close to you in any sense of the word. Loves you because you are his needy girl and absolutely loves to give you what you deserve.

You could probably cuddle for hours in that sweet spot between sleepy and horny, lights dim and AC on high while you're comfortable in bed. Get him in his PJ'S just because it's easier to feel his hard on through them- he adores the sweet feeling of holding you close, arms wrapped around you so he can grope at your chest, rocking himself up against your ass. Groans quietly, pretty lashes fluttering shut each time you grind your hips back for him. Neither one of you in a rush, just at a low simmer until finally you're soaking through your underwear and turning around under the covers so you can kiss him.

Gaz pulling away from the kiss and his lips are shiny when he smiles, breathlessly asking, "You ready, love?"

Everything still moving slow, soft, and quiet; the two of you only pulling off what clothes were strictly necessary as you straddle his hips. He takes the time to tuck up the covers over your shoulders to make sure the two of you stay warm while you line his cock up with your hole.

You lazily ride him, letting his length fill you slowly and you even take little breaks whenever your hips tire out or you want to just cuddle- the closest two people can be, him buried inside of you. Heartbeats so close together, him kissing your nose while you scratch gently at his scalp and shoulders- makes him groan in a different way, his body going limp beneath you.

"Gonna kill me angel," He whines, so you lift your hips and sink down on him again to make him gasp and grasp at you.

Tired smiles and hushed giggles, your fingers intertwining as he holds your hands as you pick up the pace.

"Gonna- shit, gonna make me cum like that, angel."

He's warning you- he would let you draw it out as long as you pleased, but maybe you're looking forward to your soon impending nap, maybe you're lost in the way his pretty brown eyes are rolling back in his head, maybe his little moans are getting the better of you- you don't stop riding.

"Yes, yes, ye-es--" His hips flex and buck up into you when he finishes, the both of you panting as you collapse on top of him.

He insisted he get up and clean the two of you off, which makes you whine indignantly, but he's swift and you're soon drifting off to dreamland, once again held in the warmth of Gaz's embrace.

[wazzappp]

@quasar-crew MY BRAIN FINALLY LET ME FUCKING DRAW SHIT LETS GOOOOOOOO.

Ok so all of these ideas are seriously impacted by quaser and polarspaz's amazing fic which you can read here and also this one called undertow. The combined might of these two fics are giving me brainrot that could make Ethan Winters jealous.

I love seeing everyone give Leon mandibles. Seriously. Mandibles for the win. Bug boys stay winning ong frfr. BUT. I wanted to try and do something slightly different because I saw the regenerators in the remake and went JESUS CHRIST WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT ITS HORRIFYING and then proceeded to watch like 3 speculative biology videos about how they work.

I have given himb. Teef. When in doubt just add more teef this always works no exceptions.

I had some VERY OBVIOUS Xenomorph inspiration I'm not even gonna pretend like I didnt. However I am very proud of his tail. Ive essentially created a design that allows it to turn into a saw once its impaled someone. If the blade of the tail gets caught halfway through someones torso? Shaboom. The spines flex and you've got an automatic bone saw now cut that guy in half.

I also have some speculation about how the plaga itself mutates the body.

Given that in game the infecting agent is called a 'toxin' I can only assume that the plaga is mutating its hosts with a geneotoxin. A genotoxin is a chemical agent that causes chromosomal damage and/or mutations. Usually these mutations refer to cancer, but the plaga could absolutely be making something specialized to mutate a host in a way it deems beneficial. This would mean that the plaga would probably be pulling nutrients/calories/protien/WHATEVER it needs from Leons body, and using it to create and refine this toxin.

Also, the black blood vessels leads me to believe that the plaga is spreading this toxin through the cardiovascular system, so I made a diagram that includes 'barbs' in the left ventricle and left atrium. I figure the toxin would be essentially 'hitching a ride' to the oxygenated blood that would then spread throughout the entire body. That also got me thinking about how much I see Leon coughing up some kind of black substance. I think that could be his body purging materials that the plaga has deemed 'waste'. So genetic material that it doesn't think is needed would be coughed up. So. Uh. I guess he's basically coughing up his own rotten insides. That gets worse the longer I think about it.

[damagedintellect]

Dazai Osamu x reader

💌 Reading into the palms of isekai bullshit: Chapter 4 💌  

Summary: You were no stranger to isekai bullshit. It’s not like you had a problem with it. The genre took over the anime scene for years now but you try to stay away from thinking about how you would handle the situation. The last time you thought about inserting yourself into your favorite show you wrote a 100k word xReader fic for your favorite characters and you didn’t want to spend all your time consumed by the brainrot again. Never again, you promised yourself that was the last time you’d let the devil on your shoulder win. You clicked on chapter 1 to start the adventure over again but when you opened your eyes and saw Dazai O-FUCKING-samu getting choked by Kunikida you honestly hoped it was a dream.  

Notes: Another isekai so I can play around with BSD like dolls.  

💌 Word count: 1,970 💌 <= Previous Chapter | Next Chapter =>

The next few days will be boring for you since Dazai was taken by the port mafia. Being a non combatant also kind of sucked because it meant that you were basically useless on the front lines. You mostly spent your time doing office work and or following Ranpo around like a lost puppy getting him snacks whenever he wanted. Honestly with how bored you felt it seemed like he was rubbing off on you. Although you still didn’t forgive him after that last stunt. The sugar fiend was so pleased with himself when he saw you that morning. Although you should have expected as much.

 Atsushi was concerned over Dazai’s disappearance but you spilled the beans that he was taken on purpose to try and figure out what was up with the bounty on his head. That actually made him feel worse but before he could ask you too many questions Ranpo pulled you away leaving Atsushi alone to run errands with Yosano. You sighed seeing how satisfied Ranpo was as if he was a major hero stopping a great calamity.

 “Still doesn’t make up for giving Dazai the drawing but I’ll accept the apology.”

It wasn’t long until Kyouka was taken in and you were once again pushed to the side. Now you think you understand how Ranpo feels about knowing the ending of books. Again you stayed out of the fun only dropping your two cents when absolutely necessary. Atsushi asked if you wanted to tag along but you begrudgingly turned them down. Meaning you’d miss out on getting crepes later. You’d have to go out on your own time to get some. Which gave you an idea but it was still a day too early or was it? You remember Dazai pretended to be held longer but when did he actually sneak back? As the day came to an end you took your leave making sure no one else was around. You relaxed against his door in the standard cool guy position and started knocking.

“.... . -.-- , / .-- .- -. -. .- / --. . - / -.-. .-. . .--. . …”

“Hey, wanna get crepes”

He’d understand the morse code right? You had to look up a chart to figure it out. A brief moment passed with no answer. Oh well, you would still go to get a crepe. You were about to leave when you finally heard a very soft knocking from the otherside.

“.-- .... -.--”

“Why”

You had to pause, looking up what he said before you smirked to yourself. “If you do, I won't tell anyone you came back already.~” You said it in a sing-song way like it wasn’t a soft threat. There was a short beat before the door quickly opened and he pulled you inside. You yelped as you stumbled backwards but he put his hand over your mouth pulling you closer so he could close the door before anyone else saw. “Now what’s the real reason?” He seemed slightly irritated that you disturbed his peace. 

Ever since you came into the picture it feels like you can see through him and he's not used to someone else being able to do that since Chuuya. He's still wracking his brain trying to figure out how you do it because it still doesn't add up. Especially since Chuuya minded his own business for the most part and you've practically made it your goal to win this game that Dazai swears you both are not playing. You saw his palm twice, how can you know him like the back of your hand? He’s done his research and that’s not how palm reading works at all! You shouldn’t be able to get names from his palm or very specific details the way you’ve been. When he talked to Ranpo before Kyushu he was so sure that you weren’t reading palms at all but still it couldn’t be an ability so it had to be a secret third thing that he still hasn’t found out about. Disappointed would be an understatement for how deranged he felt when Ranpo came back and you saw through his trap. There was only one other person who has managed to counter his predictions in this way and he’s sure you are not a demon like he and Fyodor are. So what gives?

“Well Atsushi took the new girl for crepes and it sounded good. I can’t ask Ranpo out of spite. Yosano would rather get a drink. Kunikida doesn’t eat sugar past a certain hour and actually I didn’t even think about asking Kenji now that you mention it.” You played dumb making up random excuses as neither of you moved to change the position you were in. You were still being held slightly into his chest and leaned back far enough to need Dazai’s hold on you to stay balanced “Besides I figured you’d wanna get the taste out of your mouth after being reunited with your ex. I assume all you’ve had was cheap booze and canned crab?” He only frowned as you glanced over to his lazy set up. It looked like he was genuinely weighing out his options before his sinister smirk rested on his lips. He needed to gain the upperhand somehow. "Admit that you missed me and I'll go."

"What?" You were dumbstruck. You were the one with leverage. It was you who was supposed to be making demands not following orders. "You heard me just tell me that you missed me." He sneered, "I'm just trying to help you be more honest-"

"I missed you." Your cheeks were warmed by the confession but you held firm with no hesitation. Your voice was soft yet strong as if it was intended for his ears only. Like it was supposed to be your little secret.

Dazai was in a state of bewilderment, astonished that you actually said it back to him. He really didn't expect you to, and he didn't think it would be so genuine. He marveled at you for a while, for once he was at a loss for words. Your eyes held an unwavering conviction over the sentiment that he would rather not think about. Originally he was trying to garner more control over the position you placed him in but now it appears he's the one who played himself. He lowered his gaze letting his bangs shield his vision as he shifted you upright. Your unwavering stare made him tense. He wasn't used to this feeling of being uncomfortable. You really were his belladonna.

"Okay." 

Dazai sounded far away from himself. You desperately wondered what was running through his head. He started unbuttoning his vest as he opened his closet to pull out some more casual attire. He ran his hand through his hair pseudo slicking it back throwing on a pair of glasses. By the end Dazai looked like a different person as you went to get your reward. When you got there he ordered for you but you paid knowing that you were the one who invited, or well, forced him to come it should be your treat. Of course it was no surprise to you that Dazai had ordered you both the “Romeo and Juliet” which was chocolate ice cream, with freshly cut strawberries, two pieces of pocky, whipped cream and drizzled with chocolate sauce. You wonder if Dazai got it because of the flavor or because of the name because he couldn’t pass up the double suicide reference. Even if he didn’t order for you it’s the one you would have chosen because the one you wanted to try was already sold out and it was the next bestseller.

It was golden hour, painting the sky in beautiful yellows, oranges and hints of reds and purples. There seemed to be less people out and about right now which was good for Dazai. It also meant that you and him got to share this moment completely unbothered. Watching the sun set over the city and eating something sweet would be the perfect end to the peace. You had maybe a day or two before the guild showed up on your doorstep and you weren’t looking forward to the week of chaos when Q gets released into the world. Dazai had been unusually quiet but you didn’t mind just the fact that he came with you was enough. As you ate the last bite you noticed some of the ice cream dripped on the back of your hand. You were about to wipe it away with a napkin when Dazai finally spoke, grabbing for your hand.

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand

This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:

My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”

He licked it up, placing a gentle kiss to where it used to be giving you a playful look. Little does Dazai know you actually played Juliet in highschool so without missing a beat you shifted your hands as you spoke.

“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,

Which mannerly devotion shows in this;

For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,

And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.”

He didn’t seem that surprised as you continued the scene if anything he hummed with enthusiasm. “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?” Dazai smirked, leaning into your personal space. You wonder how far he’ll go “Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;

They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”

Dazai interlace your fingers giving you eyes that pierced your soul. Were you guys playing chicken right now? Was this nerd chicken? If this was you didn’t want to lose but no matter what you did, it would be his win since you already took the bait. Savvy as always, he has tied you to a stake you cannot fly. 

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.” You had to come up with something otherwise you won’t hear the end of it.

“Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.” Dazai brought his free hand up to your cheek. You watched as his eyes closed as he started closing the distance. You quickly placed the kiss on his cheek instead of his lips. You whispered against his ear before pulling away “I already told you, saints do not move, and I am not that easy.” Implying that you weren’t a saint you grinned smugly.

He exhaled out of his nose “No you are not.” He matched your smile and stood up. Dazai was about to let go of your hand but you tighten your grip “Who said you could let go?” You would yield this round but that didn’t mean you were going to throw in the towel. You wanted to make it clear that you were enjoying the game. “Then after you my little belladonna~”

“With pleasure my little snake.” It didn’t have the same ring as mackerel but you tried.

You held hands all the way back to the dorm. The coast was clear but who knows for how long. You let go of his hand when you were outside of his room. “I won’t tell, scouts honor.” you held out your pinky to him. Everyone knows that pinky promises hold the most gravity in the court of law. After he shook on it he softly but swiftly made his escape.

You hummed to yourself “Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be-” you stopped, he wouldn't hear you so what’s the point “A few days from now.” You sighed, retiring to your room as well.

What you didn’t know was that Dazai did hear it from the other side of the door and he was smiling to himself.

[aintgonnatakethis]

Writing Interview Tag!

Big thanks to @moltenwrites for the tag! I've seen this going around and was hoping to be tagged at some point. *rubs hands together* There'll be a readmore at the bottom with the templates for both desktop and mobile.

About me

When did you start writing?

Very young, around 5-6. I remember there was homework where the teacher gave everyone a list of words and asked us to write a sentence with each word. I would turn in a paragraph for each instead 😂 When I was 14 I was writing a lot of Doctor Who fic on FFnet (I can't believe that was 16 years ago 💀) and during the lockdown I started writing again for something to do.

Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write?

I don't think so? Sorry, that's a really unsatisfying answer, I know. It's like when you're asked what your favourite book is and you instantly forget every book you've ever read 😂

Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often?

Is this gonna be weird? Probably. Am I gonna fight through the anxiety anyway? Sure, you betcha! @septembriseur is one of the best writers I have ever had the pleasure of reading. Your Telford is second to none. Thank you.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

Just sitting in my bed cradling my laptop. Despite only being 3 and a half years old it's got a whole host of things wrong with it, the most problematic being a loose connection somewhere inside the charging port. To be able to charge I have to sit in a very specific position and stay still, with a metal water bottle braced against the charging cable to keep it pushed in, another cable tied around it with an elastic band and hooked over the opposite side of the laptop. It's... honestly not the best lol. But it's a gaming laptop so getting it fixed would probably be expensive and I just don't have the money.

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Am I allowed to say drugs? 😂 I'm prescribed ADHD meds and Pregabalin for anxiety, and they both help me focus enough to get words down on the page. I'd be pretty screwed without them tbh. I had an appointment with a doctor today and am getting an instant release ADHD medication added to my prescription as the extended release wears off by mid-to-late afternoon, so maybe I'll be able to get another daily writing session in when I take that!

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and/or places you write about?

Hn. I want to say not really, but it must have influenced me in some way, right? Kids are sponges and will soak up and mimic the behaviours of the adults around them, and often people will reach adulthood with opinions and ideas that they don't even realise were created by an outside influence.

Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so, do they surprise you?

QUEER! And no, it doesn't surprise me at all. 😂 I love writing about self-discovery, characters figuring out they can grow outside of the box society has built for them.

Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character?

So, uh, I'm just gonna link y'all here, where I ramble on about David Telford from Stargate Universe for fucking ages. He's in my brain spinning plates as we speak. (He never stops.)

Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?

Well, in real life I wouldn't want to be friends with anyone in the military. While the US military is a special interest of mine because of Stargate, I am very aware that these characters are not realistic when compared to their real life counterparts. Realism in this area is one reason my favourite of the series is Universe, but even then these men aren't... Well, let's just say that - just like in politics - you don't get far in the military if you're a good person.

Which characters would you dislike the most of you met them?

😬😬😬 I mean, the fact they're dislikeable is part of the draw, ya know? I think irl-Young would suck absolute balls. 😂

Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters?

Not super applicable as I'm a solely fandom writer, but the parts of the characters we're not given by the show come to me as I write, like puzzle pieces slotting into place. A good back-and-forth conversation is another excellent way to dig deep into them.

Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters?

QUEER! But being serious, I've given both Everett Young (SGU) and John Sheppard (SGA) intrusive thoughts...

My writing

What’s your reason for writing?

Escapism. Creativity. The characters are in my head screaming at me.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment from readers that you find particularly motivating?

Ooh, the long back-and-forth conversations! I'm here to talk endlessly about these little fucking blorbos and I will ramble about them to anyone!

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Taking this very seriously: a man. I know that fandom is typically a woman-dominated area and I've met quite a few other trans people through Stargate, but yeah. I know there are cultural differences with what are generally considered gender neutral terms around the world, but I do not want to ever be referred to as a girl or with woman-coded terms. I've had to fight hard to be able to be myself: man, dude, bro, there are a lot of choices.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Hmm... consistency? I set the New Year's resolution to write something every day in 2022. That year I missed 2 and half weeks because I had top surgery and while beforehand I thought 'awesome, I'll have plenty of time to write!' it turned out that recent wounds almost in my armpits makes it quite painful to move my arms... 🤔 In 2023 I wrote every day and so far I've kept that up in 2024. It's not always a lot of words, but it's always something.

What have you been told is your greatest strength as a writer is by others?

Characterisation. I've been told I've got my SGU boys (Telford, Young, and Rush) down to a tee.

How do you feel about your own writing?

There's a cycle where I look back at stuff I've written and compare it to what I'm currently writing and think 'this new stuff isn't as good', but in 3 months the stuff I'm currently writing will be what I think is good so... There are pieces I'm especially proud of, of course. If you'd allow me to plug for a moment, I think a memory, a distant echo is one of the best things I've ever written. Mind the tags though.

If you were the last person on earth, would you still write?

Yeah sure. I write primarily for myself so I don't see any reason why I'd stop. I wouldn't live long though lmao

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or is it a mix of both?

First point of contact has to be with me, always. If something doesn't resonate with me, I can't write it. Forcing things is going to make writing unenjoyable and for me it's one of the most joyous things I do and I want to keep it that way. That said, if there's specific interest in a certain idea I have, that of course does motivate me. Feedback is the nectar of writers!

Tagging: @fortunatetragedy @bagheerita @frostysfrenzy @adriankyte-writes @frostedlemonwriter

@gioiaalbanoart @septembriseur @authorcoledipalo @anonmadsci @the-golden-comet + OPEN

@wolgerrswraith @chaniis-atlantis

About me

When did you start writing?

Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write?

Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often?

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and/or places you write about?

Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so, do they surprise you?

Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character?

Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?

Which characters would you dislike the most of you met them?

Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters?

Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters?

How do you picture your characters?

My writing

What’s your reason for writing?

Is there any specific comment or type of comment from readers that you find particularly motivating?

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Have you been told is your greatest strength as a writer is by others?

How do you feel about your own writing?

If you were the last person on earth, would you still write?

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or is it a mix of both?

About meWhen did you start writing?Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write?Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often?can you tell me a bit about your writing space? What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and/or places you write about?Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so, do they surprise you?Characters: would you please tell me about your current favorite character? Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?which characters would you dislike the most of you met them?Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters? Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters?How do you picture your characters? My writing: what’s your reason for writing?Is there any specific comment or type of comment from readers that you find particularly motivating? How do you want to be thought about by your readers?What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?have you been told is your greatest strength as a writer is by others?How do you feel about your own writing?If you were the last person on earth, would you still write?When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or is it a mix of both?

[hyunsvngs]

I might be out of pocket for this one, but I have a feeling you don’t mind.

Imagine you in line for the concert, and suddenly the kids come out because they want some more special time with Stay. Chan‘s wearing a black (self-made) tank top and grey sweats, he looks absolutely delectable. When he gets close to your area, the hem of his shirt accidentally gets tucked into his pants and all you can do is watch as if hypnotized as he moves his hand down and with two skilled fingers brings it back out again.

„Channie, finger me!!“

It takes you two seconds to realize that that shout actually came from your mouth, but Chan clocks you instantly. His eyes land on yours and under his burning gaze you don’t know if you should curse every decision you ever made in your life to get you here or thank every deity out there to bless you with this moment.

He slowly draws closer to you and your eyes only leave his as he begs one of the security men towards him with this damn motion again! He smirks at you one last time, and then leaves without another word.

„Ma‘am, follow me please“ the security says and you take a second to come back to your senses and process everything. „It’s the new protocol, ma‘am, please follow me.“ Right, the new protocol. It’s been announced everywhere. With the „fans“ acting more out and everything becoming more and more dangerous for the kids, JYPE announced that they may remove anyone and everyone if a member if the band, staff or crew see so fit.

So that’s it then, you think. No concert for you tonight, maybe no concert ever, just because you couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut. All those thoughts run through your mind as you follow the security inside the venue, possibly to check your identity and block you from every future event. You thought that they would do this right at the entrance, keep it short and simple, but instead you’re lead further and further into the building, until you reach a door that reads „Staff only“

Pushing through it you‘re met with a stark contrast to the empty and silent halls outside. In here everyone is buzzing, people shouting and running everywhere. It seems so chaotic but you can’t help and think that it sort of looks like a choreographed dance, everyone knowing exactly where to place their hands and feet to still move forward without blocking anyone else. You’re not left time to awe at this, however, as the security keeps on moving at a fast pace, weaving their way through this supposed chaos.

You only come to a halt once you’re stood in front of a door that reads „Dresser G“, where the security man knocks twice, two loud but short noises, and then leaves with the single command „Stay here until someone comes to get you.“

And so you wait, wondering for how long you‘ll have to stand here. Maybe the whole concert? That would be torture. But maybe then they‘ll let you see another show, when they see that you can be good, so you decide to be patient and simply what you deserve for fucking up earlier.

You’re patience isn’t put to a test, however, as the door opens after only a few seconds and before you can process anything else, you feel yourself being pulled inside by your wrist and then find yourself pushed against the now closed again door. You distinctly hear the lock being turned and it is only then that you also get to see what’s going on. And that’s when your breath stops.

There right in front of you, mere centimeters apart, stands the man you‘ve been longing for since forever now. What’s he doing here if he wants you removed? You almost want to open your mouth again, but before any sound can leave your throat, he already cut you off.

„So, you want me to finger you, huh?“ The slight smirk from earlier can be seen again and you feel your knees weaken at the sight only. You gulp nervously, desperately trying to speak, but not a sound moves past your lips.

„What, cat got your tongue now that you have to live up to your words? Can’t remember telling the security to lead you by Minho first. Plus he wouldn’t have left anything for me anyways. So, what is it, babygirl?“

His tone is slightly condescending, something you‘ve never heard of him before, not even when he was supposedly ill-speaking. But you can tell that beneath all of this, he’s still the sweet and caring man you know, you can see it in his eyes. They give you comfort, they tell you that you can back out any second if you so choose. They’re the only thing grounding you in this moment, these pools if chocolate keep you from floating all up into delulu space. And so, anchoring yourself in his eyes, you finally find the courage to speak up: „I’m so sorry, I know I shouldn’t have said that, I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I promise I‘ll be good and keep my mouth shut, just please don’t ban me from your events, I‘ll do anything-“

Your clueless rambling harshly comes to a halt once a large hand keeps your mouth shut. Your eyes widen in shock and your breath hitches in your throat, and although you don’t want to admit it, you also feel some familiar warmth and wetness starting to pool between your thighs.

„I didn’t ask for an apology, babygirl. I asked if you wanted me to finger you. So, will you be a good girl now, deliver on your words, and answer my question honestly when I remove my hand?“ A timid nod is all you manage as an answer, but it seems to suffice, since your mouth is freed instantly. Drawing one last breath to gather all your courage, you say: „Of course I want you to finger me. You’re Bang Christopher Chan after all, who wouldn’t want that?“

„Have you touched yourself before, imagining your fingers were mine?“ You can’t believe your ears when this is his reaction. You expected him to throw you out, to scream at you, maybe hit you even, but never had you expected this follow-up question. Nonetheless, his inquisitive stare tells you that you’re not hallucinating. He actually asked you that, and now he’s definitely waiting for an answer. „Y- yes, I have“ you admit shyly, your gaze dropping to avoid the burning sensation his stare provokes all over your body.

„Why?“ „I’m sorry?“ He gently hooks one finger under your chin and lifts your head so that your eyes meet again, and he looks softer again. „Why do you want me to finger you? Why do you imagine Channie‘s fingers, and not Jinnie‘s or Hannie‘s?“

Trick question, you actually had. You fantasized about all the members, actually, but none had you acting out like Chan had, and when you think about that, the reasoning comes to you easily. „Because you feel like home.“

When he says nothing in return, you see this as an invitation to move on with your explanation. „Because you’re always so kind and wonderful and sweet. You make me feel safe. And at the same time, I believe, or want to believe at least, that there’s this dark side you don’t want to set free, the one that inspired Red Lights and all those Daddy comments and possibly more that I don’t even know of. And I like the imagination of me being the one you let that side out with, the one you finally tie up and the one who screams Daddy for you the way you like it“

He nods slowly, looks you up and down one more time, and then his eyes darken. You think that you‘ve fucked up indefinitely, that you‘ve crossed a line and are now not only getting thrown out, but locked up also.

„I propose to you a deal. You can accept it, or you can deny it and leave as if none of this ever happened, okay? Is that alright with you, babygirl?“ That’s a strange way to tell you to fuck off, you think, but you nod anyway.

„Alright, so, here‘s the deal: I give you what you want, right now. I finger you just like you imagined. But I won’t let you come. And then you get a spot in the audience where I can see you at all times. You’re not allowed to touch yourself. You must have the time of your life at this concert. I want to see you sing, dance, the whole ordeal. And if I think that you‘ve done well, I‘ll have the security bring you backstage again and if you’re still as wet as you are right now, I’ll give you the rest. I‘ll tie you up, fuck you good, and you‘ll scream Daddy for me. But only if I think you‘ve been good during the show. Is that alright with you? As a reminder, you can also just leave and we’ll never talk about this again“

You’re brain short circuits, there’s no way he just said what you think he just said, is there? This is too good to be true. You read this sort of stuff in tumblr fanfiction, it doesn’t happen in real life. There is just no way. Or is there? What if there is? What if you give into your delusions just this once? What’s the worst that could happen? After all, you‘ve already embarrassed yourself beyond repair anyways. So there’s no harm in trying, right? „Alright“

„What was that, babygirl? I’m afraid I can’t hear you if you don’t speak up“

„I said alright! I agree to your deal, I‘ve read and agree with the terms and conditions“

„Good girl. Now be nice and quiet for me, you don’t want anyone hearing how desperate you are for me, do you?“

I might make a part 2 with what happens afterwards, but now I have to attend dance lessons. Cya :)

~🤍

WHAT THE FUCK I WANT MORE?!?!? IVE SAID IT ONCE ILL SAY IT AGAIN: MY FOLLOWERS ARE AUTHORS

♡ juno

[world0fmadness]

THE RIVER RUNS RED

conrad “ cronos ” lant x reader

♡ general period comfort headcanons for cronos!

୨୧ this is kind of shorter than most of my other stuff but i’m basically writing this for myself right now, i’m in need of some comfort so i figured i’d write for my favourite fellow british person <3

♡ view my metal masterlist here

reading music recommendations: welcome to hell by venom - hollywood main theme by rik schaffer

♡ to be honest, i can see him making a lot of kind of childish jokes when it comes to your period…

୨୧ at first you don’t mind too much but you definitely get bored of them after two days

♡ and once he sees how bad periods really are for you, he quits the shit pretty quickly and wisens up

୨୧ he’s probably not great at comforting you but he definitely tries his best for you

♡ he tells you that actually you’re pretty fucking awesome for being able to like, shed your insides and how he thinks it’s insanely cool you bleed so heavily for seven days and don’t drop dead

୨୧ yeah, definitely not the best at offering comfort but he really tries…

♡ he’s much better at physical comfort than he is verbal comfort!

୨୧ oh you wanna cuddle up in bed because you have cramps? absolutely, let him big spoon you and trace pentagrams on the skin of your stomach <3

♡ he’ll really stay in bed with you all day if you want to! he’ll cancel any plans he might have, telling friends that something just came up

୨୧ if you want a hot drink or hot water bottle made, he’ll place a kiss on your head before climbing out of bed and going to make it for you

“ y’want a hot chocolate, honey? or maybe some tea? ‘kay, i’ll go make you one, be back in a bit ” ( i just know he makes a killer tea, and hot chocolate! he probably puts whipped cream and marshmallows on top of the hot chocolate, really spoiling his lady )

♡ i can see him having a MAJOR sweet tooth so if you ever crave sweets or chocolate, he’s on it in a flash and buying you way more candy than you really need

୨୧ he ends up eating almost all of them himself, shovelling huge handfuls of small sweets into his mouth as you giggle next to him, he’ll shoot you a wink and smirk as he attempts to chew them all

♡ cronos is absolutely the type of guy to ask what size pussy you have when you ask him to go and buy you some pads…

୨୧ he’s also extremely confused when you tell him to get the ones with wings! but he doesn’t mention that, he just nods his head with squinted eyes, silently trying to decide if you’re fucking with him or not

♡ he comes back from the store with WAY too many packets of pads, all different types too…

୨୧ like, he bought enough to last you nearly a year, claiming he just didn’t really know how many you’d need

♡ if you ever bleed through your pants in public, he’s very gentle with you and doesn’t make a huge fuss, he absolutely does not want to draw attention to you

୨୧ he’d just come up behind you and tie his leather jacket around your waist, softly whispering in your ear why he’s doing it

“ you’ve got some blood on your pants, honey… ‘s okay, it’s covered, wasn’t too much ” ( for once, you’re thankful he was ogling your ass and noticed the crimson stain )

♡ and if you get pretty bad leg cramps when out and about, he’ll gladly give you a piggy back home!

୨୧ he probably tries to carry you bridal style first but realises very quickly he isn’t as strong as he thinks and it just isn’t super comfy for you

♡ he keeps a pack of painkillers on him at all times for you, everywhere you guys go together he’ll have a pack of them in the pockets of his leather jacket

୨୧ they’ve come in handy many times and he’s always so smug about it, telling you he’s just so smart and so thoughtful before you shove his shoulder and laugh

♡ another thing cronos is actually really good at doing for you when you’re on your period is running you baths!

୨୧ if you mention to him that you feel gross and sticky and really just want to bathe, he’ll tell you to sit back and relax whilst he goes to prepare a bath for you

♡ he goes all fucking out, lighting cute little tea lights around the bathroom, pouring in ( way too much ) bubble bath, laying out the nicest and softest towels on the radiator so that they’re warm for you when you get out…

୨୧ he definitely sits by your side when you’re in the bath too, unless you don’t want him to! he’ll just sit on the closed toilet lid and smoke a cigarette or read a magazine whilst chatting with you, coming over to wash your hair for you

♡ i can see cronos having no problem with letting you wear his boxers around the apartment! sometimes everything else is just too uncomfortable but you don’t want to walk around the apartment in just panties so he’ll offer up his boxer briefs

୨୧ they’re pretty big and comfortably oversized on you, perfect for period clothes <3

♡ if you get a little horny on your period, he’ll be all over that… he has no problem getting a little messy but i won’t go into that right now hehe…

[princessbatears]

Hi- I don't know if you are still writing but I just wanted to say your fics are AMAZING. I constantly go back and re-read them whenever I need a good comfort fic. I also kinda had a random question about the Pero Tovar AU... how does he come to find out that the reader is a werewolf and not a magical dog?? If you're not writing or answering questions about your fics anymore I totally understand and please disregard this question. Much love from a reader!!!!

Anon, this note/ask absolutely made my day, you have no idea! I am deeply touched that you reread my stories and they bring you comfort. That's really my goal with my fan fics, to be a soft, sweet place to land.

While I do not write fan fic much anymore, I was delighted by your question of how he comes to find out Reader is a werewolf and had to write a little ficlette about that moment. I hope it is a satisfactory answer!

Much love to you, dear Reader, and thank you for your kind words and lovely ask!!! 🥰

Pairing: Pero Tovar x Werewolf Female Reader Summary: The new moon is upon you and Pero, which means you either have to leave him for a few days to hide your humanness or risk trusting him with the truth POV: Werewolf Reader Warnings: Mention of dead animals, non-sexual nudity, anxiety, brief fear of injury Words: 750 A/N: Takes place between Cooking and Proposal

Picking your canine teeth with a sharp bit of bone from your dinner, you look up at the night sky moodily. There’s only a sliver of the waning moon shining amongst the stars and you and Pero are nowhere near the bottom of the mountain.

A terrible blizzard has cost days of travel, forcing you two to hunker down in a cave. Even after the snow stopped, it’s been too cold for a human to be out in. The only choice is to wait for the temperature to rise a little more.

With less than two nights until the new moon, you’re faced with either disappearing for a few days or showing him you’re human.

The idea of leaving him without explanation, especially in these conditions, doesn’t sit right with you. Underneath that gruff, smelly exterior is a kindhearted man who you’ve come to care about and who cares about you, even if he does only see you as a magical dog and try to give you terrible names.

But to tell him is to potentially risk your life and that of the pack’s. He might try to kill you or share of your existence with others. It’s why there’s a rule never to tell humans.

“Come inside, pup, it’s too cold for even you,” Pero calls sternly from near the mouth of the cave, hands stuffed under his armpits.

Letting the bone fall from your mouth, you get to your feet and trot inside. After giving yourself a good shake just near enough to him to hit him with bits of snow, you head farther inside where a crackling fire welcomes you.

“Do you have to do that every time?” he gripes, brushing his hands exaggeratedly on his coat.

Smirking, you flop on the stone floor with your wet belly near the flames.

Despite his annoyed expression, he settles next to you to scratch behind your ears. After a few weeks together, he’s learned exactly where you like to be pet.

“I’m glad you’re back for the night,” he says with a quiet smile.

Warmth curls through you at his words. You’re glad you are, too. Being with him makes you happy.

As you look at his fire-lit face, lined with both hardship and joy, your heart knows what you need to do: show him what you are. If things go badly, you can easily transform back into a wolf and disappear. He’d never be able to track you in these conditions.

Heart pounding with both fear and determination, you close your eyes and let your human self out. Now you’re laying on your side, naked and chilly, while Pero’s fingers brush your neck.

He freezes, hand stilling, as he stares at you with saucer-sized eyes. His breathing grows erratic and his own heart beats loudly in your ears.

You stay still, but use your voice for the first time with him, “Hello.”

“What the fuck?” he wheezes, drawing back.

“It’s all right! Werewolves don’t hurt humans unless there’s no other choice.”

Pero swallows dryly. “Werewolves?”

Although you know it’s perfectly reasonable for him to be shocked, you’re starting to regret this. He’s looking at you like you’re a monster.

Another unbearable beat goes by with you remaining on the ground and him staring.

“I can turn back,” you say, voice wobbling with the threat of tears. Why did you think you should do this? You’ve risked everything so impulsively! “I’ll leave, you don’t have to ever see me again. Just… please don’t tell anyone!”

He reaches towards the nest of blankets where his large knife lays and you immediately transform back into a Wolf, ready to defend yourself.

But instead of grabbing the knife, he picks up one of the blankets. Although he’s still rather shaken, he says softly, “I promise, I’m not going to hurt you, either. You can be human, but you need something to wear. It’s too cold without fur.”

Pero lays the blanket over your fuzzy back, leaving it up to you what you want to do.

Now, his eyes are curious and hopeful, and there’s no lie in the thrum of his heart. So, you allow yourself to shed your fur once more under the comfort of the blanket.

He chuckles. “No wonder you didn’t like the names ‘Snowball’ or ‘White Fell’. What do you want me to call you?”

A sense of safety returns and you sit up, holding the edges of the fabric around you. With a shy smile, you tell him your real name.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Cruella De Vil x Reader || Smexcerpt

Plot: Just something very short and very dirty I wrote on my phone! Cruella reads the daily paper and you take thorough care of her cunt.

Warnings: Very smutty. Fingering, pussy play, eating out, and a tiny tiny bit of 'puppy'+degradation at the end.

Sometimes you just sit there between her open thighs on the sofa while she silently reads the morning paper, thrusting a finger or two in and out of her sweet pussy.

You get lost in the feeling of her slick, meaty walls taking you in over and over again, the only concern on your mind being how deeply you can touch. You wish your fingers were longer, but you like it just fine this way.

Eventually you evolve in your ministrations, leaning down and using your thumbs to stretch her lower lips open for your to see her better, before taking one thumb gently through the delicate folds; Noticing how wet she is for you. God, it makes you rut into the sofa beneath you, aching for the feeling of this sopping wet cunt against you. Even the feeling of your own underwear rubbing against you is something, at least. You just need more friction.

Cruella continues to read, the only sign that she's even affected by your curious touching is the little smirk on her face- pleased when you start to show you're struggling with your own lust. She loves it when you're all needy and desperate, but you're not there yet. So she'll just read about current events.

Instead of begging for her, you go on exploring her naked, open pussy- all free for you. Getting down on your stomach between your thighs, you're able to get a much better view as you slowly push your pointer finger back deep inside of her again. Carefully, and more for your own pleasure then hers, you rub firmly against her inner walls, feeling her insides. You add your middle finger and continue, thinking about how soon that's going to be your tongue.

Your fingers thrusts get more powerful eventually gaining speed as you watch her pussy absolutely weeps for you. It's honestly a feat that she stays so controlled because you, the one face-to-face with her delicious cunt, can see that she's wetter then a fucking sponge. Every time you slip back into her needy hole, more slickness leaks out.

Now you can't help yourself anymore. You lean down the rest of the way and, first - just to drive her mad and draw out the best fucking part for yourself, - give her sweet, sensitive mound a little kiss.

Then you lick a juicy stripe up through her lips and quickly get to work slurping up all that precum like you've been dying of thirst in the desert. Your lips touch around her cunt like you're kissing it, the skin soft under your lips, but your tongue is doing all the work; Scooping into her hole for a few good moments.

After a while though you start to explore her once again, digging your tongue in as deep as you can possibly reach, so your lips press tight against her. Then slipping your sticky tongue out of her again and watching the nasty strings of goo coming from her disconnect from it.

Before going right back in and playing specifically with her clit.

As you've been doing this for a very lovely 45 minutes- she cuts instantly into your mouth.

~

When you look up then from her red, puffy, overstimulated heat still so close to your lips she's finally looking at you over that paper. She's got her reading glasses on, sitting elegantly on the end of her nose as she looks dubiously, at you. Almost pitifully, like she feels sorry for you. Like you're so dumb. A dumb little puppy. "... Darling.

Did I say you were finished?"

[glennjaminhow]

Nuts

The ER is packed.

Thanks to Mac’s hideously grotesque features and labored breathing, they get to cut in front of all the other bozos with broken arms and screaming babies. It’s a good thing too because Dennis isn’t sure how much longer he can stand the distorted, puffy face or the Godawful wheezing. The face is one thing; he looks like a monster, but he’s still Mac underneath all the swelling. But the wheezing is another story. He doesn’t like it. It’s loud and annoying and generally unpleasant, and it makes him want to rip his hair right out of his skull.

He wouldn’t look good bald. Everyone knows this.

Dennis attempts to read the news on his phone, but he can’t focus on it. He has a massive headache building right behind his eyes. The lights are too bright, and the constant repetitive noises from the emergency room weigh heavily on him. Instead, he leans back in an uncomfortable plastic chair and rubs his forehead with trembling, cold fingers. He concentrates on keeping his breathing even and deliberate.

He can’t lose it now.

Mac needs him.

The dude’s a Goddamn idiot for continuing to eat those Fancy Nuts.

Some doctor gives Dennis the lowdown, informing him that Mac will have to spend the night here on oxygen with periodic albuterol treatments. He’s got an IV pumping him full of antihistamines to relieve the worst of his symptoms. An allergy test was performed on Mac like he’s some kind of lab rat. The test confirmed that he’s allergic to both peanuts and tree nuts.

Apparently, allergies can develop over time and with age.

As soon as he hears the word ‘age,’ Dennis cuts the doc off.

Mac’s got an oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose. The horrendous swelling is nearly gone. He stares at Dennis with droopy, bloodshot eyes. Mac reaches out with his free hand – the one without the IV and pulse ox attached to it – and smiles unevenly. Dennis takes it and rubs his thumb over red knuckles.

There’s a piercing shriek followed by a strange flushing noise off to their right. Dennis flinches hard, drawing his shoulders up and hunching in on himself. He shakes his head and tries not to scream. Of course these idiots wouldn’t give Mac a private room. Of course he’s stuck out here with the loonies. Of course. When the sound happens again, he bites his tongue so hard it trickles blood inside his mouth.

Mac must notice because he gently squeezes Dennis’ hand.

And no. Just no. Dennis should be the one comforting Mac, not the other way around.

“How’re you feeling?” Dennis asks quietly. He takes a seat in the chair behind him; he doesn’t let go of Mac's hand.

Mac clears his throat. “’m ‘kay. Wanna g’home.” His voice is garbled, thin and painful.

Dennis nods. “I know, bud, but you gotta stay here tonight. The doctors wanna make sure your breathing is okay.”

“M’breathing’s…” Mac wheezes and inhales sharply. “Great.”

He’s about to roll his eyes, but then that fucking shriek-flush happens again, and, Jesus Christ, is someone actively dying on the shitter? The noise makes his skin crawl. He wants to yell. Scream until he’s blue in the face because how dare some toilet-screaming psychopath interrupt Mac’s healing process. Don’t they know he’s suffering from an extreme allergic reaction? Don’t they know he needs to rest and recover? Don’t they know that SCREAMING in a fucking HOSPITAL should be outlawed? God forbid HE be the one screaming.

And he can feel himself slipping. Slipping back into the old Dennis. The old Dennis who absolutely would scream back at a moment’s notice. The old Dennis who isn’t on a cocktail of mood stabilizers to help calm him down. The old Dennis who doesn't listen to reason. The old Dennis who isn’t going to therapy once a week to try and sort out this… his… issues.

He doesn’t want to be that guy anymore. He’s… He’s evolved. He’s…

“You’re okay, Den,” he hears Mac whisper. “You’re good.”

Dennis bites his bottom lip. Nods. Looks into Mac’s swollen brownie eyes. He’s supposed to be here for Mac, but he isn’t doing that. He’s too focused on the hospital making its noises. He’s gotta focus his time, his energy, om keeping Mac safe. On making Mac feel better.

He swallows thickly. Rubs the back of his neck. Takes a deep breath.

“Do you need anything?” Dennis asks. He tries not to acknowledge the faintness of his own voice.

Mac shakes his head. “Jus’ you.”

Dennis rubs his thumb over Mac’s knuckles again and leans back in his seat.

He isn’t going anywhere.

~

Morning comes, but not quickly enough.

Mac’s woken up in regular intervals throughout the night for breathing treatments. Dennis doesn’t sleep, his nerves raw. The shriek-flushing eventually stops, but the constant beeping from monitors and the rustling of sheets and curtains floods his brain. It’s too much. It’s just too much. But he knows there’s an end in sight.

The doctors discharge Mac around 8:30, after a hellish 18 hours of hospitalization. He’s prescribed two EpiPens for the nut allergies, along with extra strength Benadryl and an inhaler for the leftover side effects of anaphylaxis. Dennis elects himself in charge of the EpiPens, which Mac is okay with in his exhausted state. There’s no way he can trust Mac to hold onto something so vital, so crucial to his safety. Mac never worries about himself; he’s always more concerned with Dennis. That’s not gonna fly here. No, Dennis will oversee the EpiPens, just like how Mac oversees Dennis’ eating schedule.

Mac is shaking as Dennis loads him into the passenger seat of the Range Rover. He grabs the plushy blue blanket from the trunk – the one Mac put there for cold mornings and nights during their work commute – and drapes it over Mac, who instantly melts into the fabric. Dennis smiles sadly as Mac buries his face in the quilt. Within seconds of putting the Rover in drive, Mac is sound asleep, wheezing slightly with his chin dipped to his chest. The thirty minute ride is silent, just quiet enough to begin thawing out Dennis’ knotted nerves.

He’s pulling into a parking space at their apartment when Mac coughs himself awake. It’s riddled with mucus, but somehow empty sounding at the same time. He doubles over, saliva pooling on his Dickies. Dennis immediately reaches out and rubs his back, wincing at the redness of Mac’s face, the harshness of his breathing, the heat bleeding through his jacket. When it’s obvious this coughing fit isn’t subsiding on its own, Dennis pulls the inhaler out of his jeans and presses down on the canister once Mac is ready for it. The medicine seems to help quickly. Mac breathes easier and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Thanks, Den…”

“Let’s just get you up to bed, pal.”

Dennis is not Mac, meaning that Dennis cannot carry Mac. He has too much mass. And excuse him for not wanting to live in the gym and look like some kind of huge freak. He’s svelte and lithe, and, okay, maybe he has lost some weight recently, a loss he’s trying to hide with slightly oversized flannels, but that doesn’t concern anyone. But what does concern him right now is that, fuck, maybe he should’ve been working out more to prepare for emergencies like this. Maybe he should’ve been tacking on mass too instead of getting rid of it.

Maybe then he’d be able to help his buddy out of this jam.

“C’mon, Mac,” Dennis grunts, as he shoulders most of his roommate’s weight. Mac leans heavily against him as they walk inside their apartment building, an arm wrapped sluggishly around Dennis’ neck. He’s beyond grateful for their service elevator at moments like these. They don’t typically use it, not unless they’re carrying a shit ton of groceries or liquor, but it turns out to be a saving grace. Dennis unlocks the door in one swift motion with Mac wobbling and sticking to him like glue.

It’s then that Dennis realizes they have a problem. A big problem.

Their bed is filled with Fancy Nuts. Dennis remembers sleeping on them – or with them? – a couple days ago, back when he and Charlie weren’t sure Mac was gonna pull through this.

“Just… Just sit here for a few minutes,” Dennis says, gently pushing Mac down into the pink inflatable chair.

Mac shakes his head. His brown eyes swell with tears. “Wanna go to bed, Den…”

“I know, baby boy. But I gotta clean our bed.”

A couple tears stream down Mac’s cheeks; Dennis wipes them away.

“Don’t feel good…” Mac whines, hiccupping messily.

Dennis’ insides clench.

He presses a kiss to Mac’s temple and runs his fingers through his hair for good measure. Mac sniffles and leans into the touch.

“I’ll be quick, okay? I just gotta change the sheets and sweep the floor.”

He should mop too, but he can do that later, once Mac is safely tucked into bed.

“You’re slow as shit at everything though,” Mac whimpers.

Dennis rolls his eyes. He removes the nut-filled sheets, blankets, and pillowcases and tosses them into the trash. He can’t handle if anything else happens to Mac, so he isn't taking any chances. He checks all the nooks and crannies of their inflatable couch-bed for nut dust. He sweeps their floor and puts their bed back together again. By the time Dennis is finished, he’s sweating, and Mac has his head in his hands, hunched in on himself and trying not to cry.

“Bedtime,” he whispers as he coaxes Mac up by his elbow.

Mac obliges wordlessly. He stumbles a little bit, catches his balance, and plops face-first into bed. He quickly rolls onto his back when he realizes he still can’t breathe for shit. He pants and coughs dryly. Dennis yanks his boots off and pulls the covers up to his shoulders. He’s about to go sit at the kitchen table to read and try to fully calm himself down when Mac grabs his forearm with clammy fingers.

“Don’t go…”

Dennis sighs and scrubs a hand down his now stubbly cheeks.

“Fine,” he huffs.

He toes off his shoes and lies down on the bed. Mac immediately moves until his head is on Dennis’ chest. Dennis tenses up at first but quickly relents once he realizes how comfortable – how safe – he feels. It doesn’t take long before his eyes start to get heavy and flutter. He tries to stay awake, just in case Mac needs anything, but he gives in not longer after Mac drapes an arm over his middle.

Dennis’ eyes droop closed, surrounded by warmth and peace.

~

The next morning, it’s obvious that Mac still feels like shit.

The dude may have slept most of the day away yesterday, only waking up to take medicine and piss, but he’s still really out of it. He can’t string more than a few words together before he’s zapped of energy for the next several hours, unable to do anything other than lay in bed.

Dennis finally convinces him to take a shower, brush his teeth, and get comfortable, from which Mac emerges soaked to the bone, unable to even dress himself. Dennis gets him into boxers and a baggy t-shirt, has him brush his teeth in bed, and bundles him in blankets. Mac is furiously hot to the touch; Dennis wonders if this could possibly get any worse.

He doesn’t like it when Mac is under the weather. He hates it, if he’s being honest. Mac is such a constant force in his life that him not being annoying is actually more annoying than him being annoying. When Mac is sick, he gets all quiet and mopey. He loses his spark and falls into himself. He will neglect his wellbeing in favor of sitting around with a dangerously high fever or coughing up his lungs until his face turns blue. Last December, Mac caught the flu from Dennis, and he had to be dragged to the hospital because his fever was so high and wouldn’t go down no matter what Dennis tried.

Dennis cleans their apartment from top to bottom while Mac sleeps. He gets rid of every single food item containing peanuts and/or tree nuts, including his own favorite brand of peanut butter. If he wants it in the future (which is unlikely given Mac’s new allergies), he can hide it in his dresser like he does with his cigarettes and razor blades. He tosses out protein bars, miniature Reese’s cups, peanut butter crackers, and almond milk. He isn’t even sure if almonds are a tree nut, but he is sticking to being safe rather than sorry.

He sweeps again and mops every room. He dusts, does several loads of laundry, and wipes every surface. He doesn’t want to take any chances. He can’t take any chances.

When Mac is out of commission, nothing feels right.

He hates this new level of vulnerability he feels creeping over him and slowly morphing him into someone who gives a shit. He hates taking meds twice a day and going to therapy once a week. He hates trying to follow an eating schedule. The only thing he likes about his ‘mental health journey’ (as Mac’s been calling it) is that Mac’s around. Dennis is trying to be… less.

Less explody. Less ragey. Less angry.

Mac is the only one who notices, but he supposes that’s okay.

Dennis is in the middle of folding his pajama when Mac stirs. He stretches out like a cat and smacks his chapped lips. He rubs his eyes with his knuckles and looks all of five years old while doing it. Dennis tries to ignore the way his pulse throbs in his throat.

“What’re you doin’?” Mac slurs, voice raspy.

“I’m compulsively cleaning the apartment,” Dennis answers truthfully.

Mac’s eyebrows furrow. “Why?”

Dennis scoffs. “Why?” he asks incredulously. “Because you almost died! You… You had a reaction to those fucking Fancy Nuts, and now I have to –”

He stops himself. Takes a deep breath. Pinches the bridge of his nose.

Breathe.

There’s no use in getting upset. He can’t change anything that’s already happened.

Just breathe.

“Dude, did you just stop yourself from freaking out on me?” Mac asks.

Dennis inhales deeply and nods.

“That’s awesome!” Mac exclaims, followed by a round of wheezy coughing. “I’m so proud of you, Den!”

He rolls his eyes. Keeps folding his laundry. Tries not to smile.

“D’we have any popsicles?” Mac rasps, moving past it. “My throat hurts.”

Dennis nods. “What kind do you want?”

“Blue.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Blue is not a flavor, Mac.”

Mac looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “Blue’s the best flavor, Den.”

“But it’s not a…” He lets himself trail off. “Right. You’re right.”

Mac smirks. “Course. ‘m always right.”

Dennis grabs a blue raspberry popsicle out of the freezer. He opens it and wraps the exposed stick in a paper towel just in case it starts to melt. Mac sits up ever so slightly and makes grabby hands as Dennis approaches. His fingers linger – just a little bit – as he grabs the popsicle, and Dennis tries not to focus on the lump growing in his throat. Mac looks… different like this. No hair gel. Comically oversized t-shirt. Droopy, bloodshot eyes. It’s the kind of Mac that he likes coming home to daily, versus the one who’s always invading his personal space without permission or the Mac who irritates the hell out of him for no reason at all.

“Can we watch a movie? I’m bored,” Mac pouts. His lips are stained blue.

“I doubt you’ll make it twenty minutes into a movie,” Dennis says. “Why don’t we watch TV instead?”

Mac’s bottom lip juts out. He looks ridiculous. “But I wanna watch Predator, Den.”

He keeps licking and sucking on the popsicle. Dennis tries hard to ignore it.

“Fine.”

So that’s what they do.

Dennis abandons folding laundry for popping in the DVD and settling down in bed. Mac finishes his popsicle, throws the trash on the floor, and immediately sinks down until his head is nestled on Dennis’ shoulder. Dennis pulls the covers over both of them.

It turns out that Dennis is right, as he always is. Mac makes it fifteen minutes into Predator before falls asleep, snoring softly against the skin of Dennis’ neck.

~

Dennis drives out to the bar that night.

Honestly, he’s terrified about leaving Mac alone, but he doubts he’ll even stir while he’s gone. Mac ate a healthy dinner of chicken tenders and fries about an hour ago; he passed out less than five minutes after he finished his plate. Dennis made sure to bundle him up, keep the TV on since Mac has this thing about the dark, and leave a note on his own pillow just in case he wakes while he’s gone.

He doesn’t intend on being away for more than an hour.

Dennis enters Paddy’s to find Charlie covered from head to toe in marshmallow, his hair sticking up straight with the stuff. Dee and Frank have splotches of it on their clothing too. The bar smells of fresh baked goods, but in a weirdly off-putting way. Almost like rancid vanilla. He doesn’t know, nor does he care. This part of the gang – the part without Dennis and Mac – is… dumb as shit, for the lack of a more elegant phrase.

He heads behind the bar with a huff and begins emptying all the bowls of peanuts into the trash.

This, of course, sparks a controversy.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, dude?” Charlie screeches, waving his arms around like the Goddamn idiot he is.

“Mac’s allergic to peanuts,” Dennis says simply. “So I’m throwing away all the peanuts.”

“Like hell you are!” Frank exclaims, spitting as he speaks. “Free peanuts are the cornerstone of Paddy’s!”

Dennis rolls his eyes. “I thought that was thin limes?”

“Thick limes!” Frank yells. Then he looks confused. “Wait a minute. What side was I on for the lime thing?”

“I don’t care,” Dennis answers. He starts to clean the bar with Clorox wipes, knocking peanut shells to the floor.

“I’m with Charlie and Frank on this one,” Dee interjects because of course she does. Fucking bird.

“Dee… We were, like, talking,” Charlie says.

Frank nods. “No one asked you, bird.”

“Hey, that’s not fair! My opinion is important. Right, Dennis?”

Dennis finishes wiping the bar and moves onto sweeping the floor. “I don’t care,” he repeats.

Jesus Christ, there are so many fucking peanuts and peanut shells down here. This is definitely not a safe environment for Mac.

Mac.

He tries not to think about Mac waking up alone and sick in the apartment.

Dennis starts to speed up his cleaning process while remaining thorough and diligent about making the bar peanut free.

“Are you even listening to us, man?” Charlie asks, stepping in front of Dennis’ trash pile. His battered Vans are caked in marshmallow fluff.

“No.”

“I see what this is,” Dee says. “He’s all worked up about Mac.”

Dennis stops sweeping. “He’s sick. Of course I’m worked up.”

“He’s not sick, asshole. He’s just allergic to peanuts.”

“And tree nuts!” Dennis exclaims. “He’s allergic to peanuts and tree nuts, and this bar is absolutely riddled with them!”

“Aw, look at you taking care of him,” Dee teases, sipping at her beer.

Dennis’ eyes narrow. He chooses not to interact. He chooses not to explode into a rage-filled ball. He chooses to ignore.

He wants to threaten to cut her into a billion tiny, unrecognizable pieces, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he just pinches the bridge of his nose.

Dee continues on making her noises and shit. Charlie and Frank do too. But Dennis doesn’t care.

He mops the floor. Gets rid of their peanut inventory in the storeroom. Takes out the garbage. Washes his hands in the bathroom. Fills the former peanut bowls with chips. Puts on his coat. Listens to 3/5 of the gang scream over each other about some shit he couldn’t care less about. 

“No more nuts,” Dennis announces as he’s about to leave Paddy’s.

They all wave him off.

~

After three days of recuperating, Mac feels well enough to go to work.

Dennis finishes putting anti-itch ointment on the last of Mac’s hives. “Are you sure you don’t want to take it easy for another day?”

“Nah. I feel fine.”

Mac coughs wetly, and Dennis’ eyes widen.

“Mostly fine,” Mac interjects with a shrug.

“Are you sure? You still look really tired, and I don’t want you to over–”

“Dennis, I’m fine.”

He nods. Mac rolls down his shirtsleeve once the ointment is mostly dry.

The drive to work is peaceful. Dennis lets Mac pick the music. Mac is quiet and keeps stealing glances at Dennis when he thinks Dennis isn't watching.

When they arrive at the bar, Charlie is waiting at the front door. "Guys, I have news!" he exclaims.

"Why don't we let Mac get settled in first before we spring the news on him, huh?" Dennis asks, placing his hand on the small of Mac's back and guiding him into Paddy's. He keeps his hand there until Mac is seated on a barstool with zero possibility of danger. He pats his jeans pocket for the thousandth time this afternoon, feeling for Mac's EpiPen. 

"Beer?" Dennis asks Mac, ignoring everyone else around them.

Mac nods. "Sure."

Dennis opens it for him. Mac takes a tentative sip. 

"Can I tell you my news now?" Charlie asks, his voice becoming increasingly high pitched and annoying.

"Sure, pal," Dennis says.

"Great! So it all started when Frank -"

But Dennis isn't listening. Obviously, neither is Mac. Because Mac's eyes are focused on the chip - formerly peanut - bowls in front of him. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, he rubs the rim of the bowl with his index finger and looks sheepishly at Dennis.

Dennis shrugs nonchalantly and takes a swig of his own beer. 

Mac smiles, small and thankful. 

~

"You replaced the peanuts with chips," Mac says as they enter the apartment. He drapes his leather jacket over the pink inflatable chair. 

Dennis swallows thickly. "Uh... yeah. I did."

"And you cleaned our whole apartment."

"From top to bottom."

Mac just looks at him, a kind of look that makes Dennis wildly uncomfortable. "And you did all of that for me?"

"Well it certainly wasn't for me," Dennis says. He toes off his tennis shoes and settles them by the front door. He doesn't like where this conversation is going.

Mac sighs. "Huh."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dennis asks.

"That was nice of you," is all Mac says.

Dennis' eyebrows furrow this time. "I'm always nice, Mac."

Mac shakes his head. "No, you're definitely not," he says. "But you're getting nicer. Since you started taking your meds and stuff again. I like it."

Dennis nods, skin burning brightly. He kicks his socked toe at invisible dust on the floor, hands stuffed deep into his jeans pockets. "Yeah, well..." He isn't sure what to say next, so he doesn't say anything at all. 

"Thanks, Den... Y'know, for looking out for me and making me feel more better."

Mac takes a seat on the inflatable couch. Dennis follows suit, unsure of what to do or how to make this horrible, bubbly feeling inside him go away. 

"You're welcome, man. I like taking care of you."

"I like taking care of you too."

An uneasy silence falls upon the apartment, the kind of silence that slices Dennis to his core. He doesn't like all this... this tenderness. It makes him feel weak and strange.

But Mac's staring at him, puppy dog eyes shining brightly in the faint Philadelphia night.

Dennis flinches when Mac puts his hand on his forearm.

"Can I kiss you?" Mac asks softly, so softly Dennis almost doesn't register the question.

Dennis nods.

Mac's lips are soft. He tastes like cherry chapstick, the stuff he often steals from Dennis. It tastes sweet, like freshly pulled taffy on a hot summer afternoon. 

He can get used to this. 

[oliverreedmasterass]

GVF going to a liquor store before a party they are throwing may be a bit of a disaster.

I am SO SORRY it's taken me so long to write this!! But I absolutely love this idea, thank you for the prompt!

Booze Run

Words: 3k

Warnings: language, drinking, mentions of hallucinations

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

“How much time do we have before people start coming over?” Sam asked from the couch, placing his oversized sunglasses on his face upside down as he studied the cracks in the ceiling. 

“A couple hours, maybe two or three?” Josh guessed from his spot on the carpet beneath the glass living room table. 

“We still need to go out and grab drinks,” Danny realized.

Jake let out a huff. “Fuck,” he grumbled. 

Slowly, the four men leaned forward from their spots around Sam’s living room and studied each other, none looking all too enthusiastic to get up. Taking charge as the oldest (and most mature, in his opinion) of the four, Josh cleared his throat. 

“Let’s make a game out of our drink run,” he suggested. He scanned his bandmates’ faces and was pleased to see that he had their attention. Sam was the first to take the bait. 

“What kind of game?” he squinted his eyes. Josh’s idea of a good time was usually a hit or miss. Josh rubbed his hands together and tried to think on his feet. 

“It’ll be like Secret Santa,” he planned. “We draw names and then buy a bottle of something for that person, and that’ll be their drink for the evening.” 

“That seems like it could be fun,” Danny commented. 

“We can call it Incognito Intoxicants,” Jake muttered. 

“That’s the spirit!” Josh called out in joy. 

“Literally, the spirit,” Jake whispered to himself, cracking a smile at his play on words.

With a grunt Josh rolled himself out from underneath the coffee table and sprung to his feet while clapping his hands, which made Danny jump in shock. “We need a hat to put the names in,” Josh announced. 

Sam slowly looked across the couch at Jake and tracked his eyes up to the straw hat that was tugged over Jake’s ears. Jake cautiously looked back at Sam with his eyebrow arched and gave his head a shake, warning Sam to stay back. Seemingly unbothered by his glare, Sam lurched across the middle sofa cushion between them and tore the hat off his head, causing Jake to let out a surprised squeak.

“My hair is greasy,” Jake complained as he retracted his hands up to cover his head.  

“Josh asked for a hat, and you’ve got a hat. Get over it.” 

Jake continued to cover his roots in sheer embarrassment, but he didn’t argue with Sam any further. While they had an intense stare-off, Josh hurried back to Sam’s kitchen and retrieved a pen and a stack of post-it notes so he could scribble out everyone’s names. Still maintaining eye contact with Jake, Sam handed Josh the hat so he could toss the papers inside. 

“Who should pick first?” Danny asked after gazing at Jake and Sam with worry. 

Sam averted his attention from Jake and cleared his throat. “I say youngest first.” 

“Just because you said that, we’re starting with the oldest first,” Josh countered. 

“Nope,” Jake stepped in, holding a throw pillow over his head to replace his hat. “I started this band, so you all have me to thank for your success. It’s only right that I go first.” 

While the brothers bickered amongst themselves, Danny slid a paper out from Jake’s straw hat, which was left unattended on the coffee table. He read the name and made a soft “huh” sound which caught the Kiszkas’ attention, as they turned around to face him. 

“Josh can go next since this was his idea,” Danny delegated. “And then Jake, and then Sam.” 

“Why am I last?” Sam whined. Danny chose to ignore his friend and passed the hat to Josh, who methodically selected a paper. Jake grabbed the hat from Josh, pulled out a paper, and threw the remaining one at Sam so he could secure his hat back on his head. 

“Happy with your results?” Danny asked around. Josh, Jake, and Sam were all staring down at their post-it notes, looking deep in thought. Finally Josh snapped his head up and gave Danny a large thumbs up. 

“I got exactly who I wanted.” 

“Me too,” Sam agreed. 

“Same,” Jake’s smile was wide. Danny was glad that he had dodged a full-fledged Kiszka fight and, since he was feeling good, he offered to drive them all down to the local liquor store, which was about ten minutes away. 

“I call shotgun,” Josh hollered before his brothers could call dibs.  

“I can drive us there,” Jake frowned at Danny. 

“No you can’t, dude,” Sam put a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Your license is fucking suspended.” 

“Is it?” Jake turned around to face his brother. 

“You still have four months to go,” Sam looked at him with concern. “Please don’t tell me you’ve been driving around.” 

“How the hell do you think I got here?” Jake stared back at his brother. 

“Oh lord,” Sam pinched at the bridge of his nose. 

Danny retrieved his car keys from his shorts pocket and rattled them around to get everyone’s attention. With their eyes all on him, Danny nodded towards the door. 

“The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get this run over with.” 

“Amen to that,” Sam agreed. 

On the drive to the liquor store, Sam leaned in Jake’s direction, which caused him to instinctually fling his hand up to hold his hat in place so Sam wouldn’t steal it. Sam rolled his eyes at this and tried to whisper at Jake so Danny and Josh wouldn’t hear from the front seats. 

“Whose name did you draw?” he asked. Jake looked at Sam out of the corner of his eye, pursed his lips together, and then shook his head, earning a huff from Sam. “I knew you wouldn’t talk,” Sam’s tone was bitter. 

“It’ll spoil the surprise,” Jake whispered back. 

In the driver’s seat, Danny’s mind was racing as they sped along the highway. He had picked Sam’s name and, in a state of panic, was trying to remember what kind of booze Sam liked best. Secret Santa was one of Danny’s favorite games because he loved treating those closest to him to a nice surprise and seeing if they could guess that he was the one who had gone out of his way to get them something especially heartfelt. He hoped that he could find something that would brighten Sam’s day.

On the flip side, Josh watched the trees pass by out the window and grinned. He had chosen Danny’s name and, while the man was about as kind as they come, Josh couldn’t resist the temptation to find him a bottle that was sure to make groan in dread. Otherwise, what was the point of the game? 

“Can you at least give me a hint?” Sam tried to whisper to Jake again. Once more Jake shook his head, which Sam responded to by sticking out his tongue. 

“And…we’re here,” Danny announced as he put the car in park. “Thank god,” he added under his breath. It was a miracle that no mayhem broke loose on their drive over. The guys unbuckled their seatbelts and, in a line, moved to the entrance of the liquor store. With Josh in the lead, he pulled the glass door open and they entered the cramped shop, the bell ringing sharply over their heads. 

“I’ll give us ten minutes to get our drinks,” Josh shared with his friends as they stood in the front entrance of the store. “If you don’t check out by 6:10, you’re disqualified.” 

“Let’s sync our watches,” Jake looked around at everyone. “Oh wait,” he realized, “I don’t have a watch.” 

Josh ignored his brother’s comment and nodded around at the group. “I’ll grab the other drinks for the party as well,” he said. “I already know what drink I’m getting for the Incognito Intoxicant, I don’t need ten minutes.” 

“Ooh, cocky,” Sam poked fun. “Look at this guy.” 

Once again, Josh let that comment pass without any acknowledgment. 

“Ready?” he looked around for confirmation. After being met with nods, Josh waved his hand down with a swoosh and called out, “go!” 

Immediately Sam, Jake, and Danny tore for separate parts of the liquor store: Jake to the spirits section, Sam to the aisle filled to the brim with wine, and Danny to the beer. Josh chuckled as he watched them disappear and strolled to the register where a middle aged man was watching Josh and his friends with interest. 

“Your usual?” he asked as Josh folded his arms on the sticky counter. 

“Yup, and a little extra something,” Josh said with a quick wink. The cashier rolled a couple of kegs out from the back and then retrieved a set of keys to unlock the glass case behind him. “Oscar Wilde me,” Josh called to him. “I want some hard stuff.” 

“What’s the occasion?” the cashier conversed with Josh. 

“Just introducing one of my pals to something out of this world,” Josh grinned. The cashier slid an especially old looking bottle to Josh, who inspected it. “This is perfect,” he blew out. 

In the beer section, Danny looked up and down the rows of bottles with a deep frown. He knew that Sam really didn’t care too much about beer, as long as it went down without a fight, but he wanted to find something that Sam was sure to love. The problem was, Danny’s understanding of beer was about the same as Sam’s. If the first taste didn’t make his face scrunch up in disgust, he usually considered it to be a winner. 

“I should find something imported,” Danny whispered to himself. “Sam is into that kinda shit.” 

He moved past the Bud Light and Coors bottles and perked up when he found a case of German beers that advertised a light and fruity flavor. It was a relatively hot day in Nashville, so Danny knew that, after letting the beers chill in the fridge for a few hours, Sam would be in for a real treat. He grabbed the case, inspected it to make sure there was no damage on the cardboard casing, and carried the booze up to the front register. 

Sam was having a field day in the wine section, finding a bottle for his Incognito Intoxicant, Josh. Josh was known for his salty dogs, but the guy also enjoyed a good glass of wine from time to time. It only felt right that Sam would choose the most rank bottle of wine on the shelf to make up for all the snooty comments he had to endure from Josh on their many winery outings. It was easy to single out the really bad bottles since they were at the very edge of the aisle and all listed for under $10 per bottle. Sam considered grabbing some two buck chuck to burn a hole through Josh’s intestines, but then gaped at a bottle tucked on the bottom row. 

“Oh shit,” Sam whispered, grabbing the drink and then cradling it in his arms. “Josh is in for a rough night.” 

Jake gazed at the fancy bottles of hard liquor around him and felt entirely in his element. He didn’t have a firm idea what he wanted to buy, so he decided to let fate call the shots and spun around in ten quick circles, to the point where he couldn’t tell left from right. With his vision blurred beyond belief, Jake stumbled around the aisle and eventually grasped onto one of the metal bars securing the bottles of booze in place. He held himself steady and tried to regain his composure before taking in the bottle in front of his face.

“Oh ho ho,” he chuckled at his selection. 

Everyone eventually met back at Danny’s car, all making it in time before their ten minutes were up. Jake nearly didn’t make it because it took him a while to find the cashier due to his spinning head, but he still had a few minutes to spare. 

“Feeling good?” Josh asked around. 

“Hell fuckin yeah,” Sam replied. Danny nodded with a wide grin. 

“Ay,” Jake added. 

“Let’s do the grand reveal then,” Josh announced. He pulled a pen out of his back pocket and quickly scrawled out a name on the paper bag that was concealing his bottle. Taking his lead, Danny, Sam, and Jake proceeded to do the same and then, all filled with anticipation, they placed their bottles in the middle of the circle. 

“Should we have at it?” Danny could hardly contain his excitement. Josh nodded and the four tore for the pile of booze, trying to seek out their designated drink. 

“Get your grimey fingers off my bottle,” Sam scolded Josh, who was holding Sam’s bag and trying to find the name on it. While Sam, Josh, and Danny struggled to retrieve their respective beverages, Jake was quick to snatch his bag and stand off to the side, watching them in interest. 

“How hard is it to find your goddamn name?” he had to ask. This kicked Sam, Josh, and Danny into gear and, within seconds, everything was sorted out. 

“We’ll go one at a time and guess who got us our drink,” Josh shared, then turning on his heel to face Danny. “You go first.” 

“I think I can guess who drew my name,” Danny murmured with a laugh as he stuck his hand into the bag and slowly pulled out an aged bottle of absinthe. “Huh?” he stared down at the label. Jake and Sam started to howl with laughter. 

“I thought you could change it up tonight,” Josh explained to Danny, entirely forgetting that Danny was supposed to guess who his Incognito Intoxicant was. “Live a little in the past, you know, let it take you back in time.” 

“Thank you?” Danny guessed. He wasn’t looking forward to drinking the greenish liquid, but he didn’t want Josh to know he was feeling disappointed. He tried to find the silver lining, reasoning to himself that it was an opportunity to try something new. Josh watched Danny’s face travel through a wide range of emotions as he studied the bottle, which was more than enough payoff for his prank. 

“I’ll go next,” Sam decided, growing impatient waiting for his turn. Before Jake or Josh could argue that they wanted to go next, Sam tore open the bag and let it drop to the paved ground so he could focus his attention on the label. “Hofbrau Munchen Hefeweizen?” He read aloud. “Did I pronounce that right?” Sam inspected the label closer and then retrieved his phone from his back pocket to translate the writing on the package. “Oh, light and fruity tones, I like the sound of that!” his face lit up. Danny attempted to maintain a poker face, but it was impossible for him not to grin a little. Sam scanned around at his brothers and, with a chuckle, pointed at Danny. “Thank you, Daniel.” 

With his cover blown, Danny finally let his smile fully stretch across his face. “How did you know it was me?” 

“Jake would have pissed in a bottle and given it to me,” Sam explained, “and I’m afraid of what Josh would have done.” 

“That’s an accurate assumption,” Jake nodded. 

“I thought the whole point of this was to get something the person would enjoy,” Danny tried to gain some clarity. 

“Oh no, that’s definitely not what I had in mind,” Josh shook his head with a laugh. He studied the paper bag in his hands and tugged it open, reaching his hand in to grab his bottle. “Oh Jesus,” he murmured as he studied the Stella Rosa Watermelon-flavored wine. Turning to Danny, he motioned at the bottle. “This is the kind of shit I’d expect to get. My Incognito Intoxicant obviously wants me to suffer.” He looked closer at the light pink liquid and gave it a small shake. “This is going to be sweet as a motherfucker. What am I supposed to pair this with?” 

“Watermelon, of course,” Jake deadpanned. Josh shook his head at his brother with a scowl, and then pointed at him. 

“You did this,” he accused. Jake’s hands retracted up in a defensive position and he was quick to shake his head. 

“My dignity couldn’t handle buying a bottle like that in public, even if it was for you.” 

“Sam?” Josh turned to face his younger brother. 

“Guilty,” Sam gave a mischievous grin. 

“You sick fuck,” Josh spat out, though he also had to give a chuckle. For what it was worth, Sam’s choice was especially sinister, which Josh did respect. 

“That leaves me then,” Jake grunted. The other three watched as he rolled down the paper bag to reveal only the top of the bottle and flicked the lid off. “Ahh,” he grunted out after taking a long, thoughtful chug from the mysterious liquid. “That’s the good shit.” 

“Hold on a second,” Danny thought hard. “I had Sam, Sam had Josh, and Josh had me. So that means…?” 

“Yup,” Jake finished Danny’s thought for him, “I treated myself to a nice drink for the evening.” 

“That’s not fair!” Sam protested. 

“Josh didn’t set any rules about it,” Jake shrugged. “Get over it.” 

Josh tried to get a better look at Jake’s drink. “What did you go with?”

“Cognac,” Jake replied after another drink. “I thought I’d switch it up tonight.” 

“Interesting,” Josh nodded. 

Danny checked the time on his phone and then motioned back at his car. 

“We’d better get a move on before people start showing up.” 

“Oh shit, right,” Sam said, turning on his heel to retreat to Danny’s car. 

“Great, I can’t wait to see what watermelon-flavored wine tastes like,” Josh sarcastically retorted while he and Jake walked in line behind Sam and Danny. 

“It’s gonna taste bad, I can tell you that,” Jake assured him. “But it should go down easy. Just chug it in the beginning and then it’ll be over.” 

“Nah, I think I’ll nurse it,” Josh decided. “I don’t want to be beyond inebriated and miss Danny’s reaction to the absinthe.” 

“Do you think he’s gonna hallucinate?” 

“You can hallucinate on absinthe?” Danny turned around to ask Jake and Josh, his eyes wide. 

“Oh boy,” Sam laughed. “We’re in for an interesting night.”

[jail-buddies-au]

I like how you randomly appeared on my fy, checked out your art,read some of your AU and was like "yes,a person of quality.Mhm." *cutely follows*.

You are now obliged to share more of this (/nm) because this Au will now be on my mind for at least a month

“A PERSON OF QUALITY” M CRYIIINGGG SJDJKSSJ THANKS

Im actually just a silly person that didn’t like the ending of their hyperfixation so i said “mm no pass me the pencil”

Haven’t been able to draw much but i do have some loose ideas and info

I find interesting that without the last time travel in canon absolutely EVERYTHING would’ve have gone downhill, like normally in the past time travels takemichi did there was always a good change, something good that happened, like kazutora’s survival in Valhalla vs Toman, that even if the future ended up worse, that change was still something valuable.

In Kanto vs Toman this gets completely erased, there’s literally no way out of a bad ending, three people died with absolutely no recompense, because the future staying exactly the same as bonten TL, Mikey being far away from everyone, but with three more dead people.

Takemichi dies and all turn into this in the matter of a week

That’s kind of what dragged me to think about this, am i being redundant??? Also i felt the necessity of exploring more Mikey’s mental health through the manga, which was heavenly implied and tried to give it a little of closure, which was something that i really wanted.

Now, there IS in fact a last time travel in this AU, but unlike canon, they don’t go back to the beginning beginning. Mikey travels back to this exact moment

I think that the time capsule moment was a very nice point to travel to, idk how to write a coherent paragraph so lemme just do it like this:

- Characters who’s death ate important to other characters development remain dead (shinichiro, baji, emma, izana) THAT ALTHOUGH IT HURTS ME SO MUCH, i didn’t like that everyone suddenly revived

- here is when Mikey starts to get actual fucking help LMAO, like while they were burying the time capsule, Mikey already knew what he was end of being, he literally planned a twelve-year-long su!cide at that moment. So i think that for the final TL to get a happy (as much as it can) ending is taking that plan back and actually start a healing journey with everything that has happened am i overthinking too much?

- ANYWAY, imma be fully transparent, i don’t know when exactly Mikey travels back, I know that he’s the time traveler because of michi giving him the power before dying, and Kazutora is the trigger. But idk if make him travel back the day Kazutora gets released from jail or before (still gonna keep him some good years behind bars tho)

NOW I CAN START WITH SILLY STUFF

- Theres a stray cat that lives in the prison called Arepa, all the prisoners know her

- Kazutora is REALLY well behaved in prison, and he has some privileges bc if that of course, Mikey thinks that’s a lie and that he actually sucked off some guard to have said benefits

-on the other side, Mikey is completely unstable, one day he can be rotting inside his sell not giving a fuck about anyone, and the other he can be fighting to death with another inmate

-he has been in solitary confinement more than once

- Kazutora receives letters from chifuyu every now and then, Mikey received a lot from Sanzu and even one from koko but he never answered, he wants to be forgotten just like in Bonten TL

-Chifuyu testified in Mikey’s trial, he also visited him once, that conversation is very well daydreamed in my head kakdjsksjjs

- There’s a good amount of mental health talk in this AU bc of course that Mikey and Kazutora in the same room was a great idea of me, so if you’re sensitive to that be careful 💙

-right now I’m drawing a little comic about Sanzu and Senju but i just have the sketch for now forgive my sins, and there’s actually a lot of panels and convos i have already like completely finished in my head, like when Mikey travels back? That’s COMPLETELY planned already jajdjsjsj im just slow

That’s all I think???? (It’s totally not but if I remember something ill post it or edit this)

Lemme know your thoughts before i consider myself cringe and delete all this text ISJDJDJSJJSJS