#i don't often go back to my own fics so this was fun i completely forgot how most of these opened 😂

[walkinginland]

first line tag game

Rules: Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to ao3. if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics 

Tagged by: @three-drink-amy, @flyinghome-againstthewind, @lord-jen-grey thank you friends!!!!!

Tagging: I have totally lost track of who has done this so apologies if this is a repeat for you :) @paperstorm, @wafflesetc, @homerforsure, @pulveremcomedesligulas and anyone else who wants to join in, consider yourself tagged :)

1. let the ransomed be free - the song of achilles

Time passes differently under the earth. It is marked by different measures, decided by different powers. Gods and suns wheeling in the sky above are not permitted here below. Kings who counted their days by dreams of their own glory, now cut short here alone, with no one to mark the loss of their pride.

2. return my fists to fingers - the last binding

Robin jerked awake, gasping for air to fill his tightened lungs – too fast, slow down you fool – as if there were far more weighing down on his chest than thin, familiar sheets.

3. Sunlight - the song of achilles

It was a rare morning that he woke before Achilles.

4. into the empty parts of me - outlander

In the house on Chestnut Street, in the dim pre-dawn hours, John Grey – still half asleep – rolled over to find someone on the other side of his bed.

5. remember me, love - outlander

That day.

That day

               they had drawn breath

                               together

               one last time before

                                               stone came to separate

               that together into

                               apart.

6. I Would Not Ask - outlander

He was dead. Or at least he should have been.

He was standing, somehow, had dirt in his eyes and blood covering more of him than not. But he was standing.

7. All the Colors in the Rainbow - outlander

Claire was standing at her dresser on a Saturday morning, putting the finishing touches on her makeup and making a last-ditch effort to wrangle her curls.

8. Find a Little Remedy - outlander

Jamie Fraser sat under a tree on a cliffside, a stone’s throw from the cave where he spent most of his days. It was near sunset, and he was thinking. Of all things he could be thinking of, he found himself to be slightly baffled that the topic on his mind this evening was singing.

9. To Heart and Home - outlander

It didn’t work. It didn’t work it didn’t work it didn’t work.

Oh thank God.

10. it just takes some time - outlander

She is five years old when she learns that life is not guaranteed. Stability is not a promised existence, and parents don't always come home. She is five years old when a car flips upside down and upturns her life.

+ one WIP because why not

Claire didn’t mean to fall in love with anyone.

cheers, friends 🥰🥰🥰

[happyyyandcrazyyy]

matching bracelets (kaz brekker x reader)

summary: when (y/n) buys kaz a bracelet she does so as a joke, she knows he’ll never actually wear it. imagine her surprise when she sees it dangling around his wrist.

based on the prompt: person A gets person B a friendship bracelet, expecting person B to never wear it, but when it’s given to them person B puts it on and is rarely seen with it off.

warnings: mentions of blood and torture (not explicit, briefly mentioned)

kaz taglist: @the-tpd-bau @ellievickstar @thestudiouswanderer | soc taglist: @ancientbeing10 (if you want to be added or removed from the taglist just dm me!)

a/n: guess who's back after a year of being mia!! i've been working on a lot of fics, but inspiration just hasn't been there, so i'm going slow, i don't like to force myself to write if i don't feel like it. anywaysss, i hope you enjoy this one! it was such a fun ride to write :)

Jesper opens the door with a loud bang, strutting into the Slat with his head held high and a slight jump in his step. He’s whistling good-naturedly, his left hand twirling a pistol and his right hand holding a rumpled piece of paper.

(Y/N)’s right hand— which had immediately reached for the pocket knife in her boot at the tumultuous noise— retreats back to her side. She relaxes, letting her shoulders sag and briefly looking down to make the final correction on a contract Kaz had her look over, left hand holding the pen and swiftly moving over the paper.

Jesper makes his way towards her, still whistling. She follows him from the corner of her eye, a slight smirk taking over her features. He’s in a good mood, the kind of mood he’s only ever in when the Gods are in his favor and he manages to miraculously not gamble away all his money. It’s not something that happens often.

“Did you win some?” she asks, already knowing the answer but enjoying the way the Sharpshooter preens under the attention. Jesper, very much in character and to (Y/N)’s delight, twirls around and does a ridiculous dance before taking a small bow.

“Baby, I won a whole lot.”

She huffs out a laugh, leaning back as she watches him place the pistol in its respective holster before plopping down on the chair by her right side and tossing her a small bag.

(Y/N) catches it smoothly, reflexes as sharp as always.

She doesn’t need to open the sack to know there’s kruge in there; the sound of coins jiggling against each other is a dead giveaway.

Jesper winks, a teasing smile on his lips. He tips his chair back, feet on top of the table, “Because you’re my favorite.”

It’s really because he owes her more kruge than he’ll ever be able to repay, but (Y/N) plays along. She’s never cared much about money, anyways.

“You sure do know how to charm a lady,” she smirks.

“I’m good at charming gents, too.”

“Versatile.”

“You know me.”

(Y/N) smiles, softer around the edges this time, something reserved only for her closest friends. She’s about to being correcting another contact— she has twelve to go through, all because she’d been bored and had decided annoying Kaz would be a great way to spend her time, he obviously hadn’t agreed —when Jesper slides over the piece of paper he’d been holding in his right hand. In the time he’d made his way towards her he’d somehow managed to crumple it completely.

She takes it, half curious, half willing to do anything to procrastinate revising and correcting those stupid documents.

“Brought this for you, too. I’ve got the feeling you’re going to enjoy this much more than the money.”

Her eyebrows furrow with curiosity as she slowly opens up the paper.

Ink contrasts the yellowish hue of the paper. Her own face greets her, drawn by hand, but fairly accurate.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N)

Wanted dead or alive.

1,000 kruge.

She can’t help the snicker that falls from her lips

Jesper is right. This is better, much better.

“Can’t believe it’s only a thousand this time,” she huffs, a small pout on her lips. “I must be losing my touch.”

Jesper snorts at that.

(Because she hasn’t lost her touch, not even a little, and they both know it. Just yesterday she’d managed to get vital information out of a Black Tip member with a single touch and a minimal amount of bloodshed. Three days before that she’d disposed of a rival gang member who’d been speaking too freely and she’d made sure his body would never be found. Two weeks prior to that Kaz had sent her to steal a miniature stature and she’d done it without a hitch, forging an identical copy in less than five days. No, she still very much has it.)

“I might have to go overboard next time,” she muses quietly to herself, “do something that will raise the bounty to at least two thousand five hundred.”

She traces the outline of her name, biting down a smile when Jesper snorts.

“You’re insane,” the Sharpshooter deadpans, the fondness in his tone almost tangible.

(Y/N) smiles wickedly at him, “So they say.”

Marbles is what they’ve nicknamed her around the Barrel. They say she’s lost them all. And it must be true, she must be out of her mind, because having a bounty on your head in Ketterdam is nothing less than a death sentence. It means having the most ruthless assassins coming after you, all looking for a way to make fast money. It’s living with the constant fear of someone sneaking up on you and slicing your throat, of having your food poisoned, of being choked to death in your sleep, of having your closest friends betray you as a means to survive. But to (Y/N), who has been part of the city’s underworld since before being able to formulate words, who has had any sort of ability to feel fear beaten out of her, this is nothing but one of the most amazing sources of entertainment. It keeps her on her toes, brings an adrenaline rush that does not compare to anything else. She must be crazy because any sane person would be paralyzed in fear, running for their lives, and yet all she can feel is the comforting thrill of being in mortal danger. (And, yes, it is comforting. She was raised to be a weapon, trained to withstand any form of torture; having Death peering over her shoulder is something she’s comfortable with, something she’s used to, something that soothes her). Besides, even if she wasn’t deadly confident in her own abilities (which she very much is), and even if she was able to feel terror overtaking her limbs (which she doesn’t think she’ll ever feel again), the title she holds would be enough to keep her relatively safe; she is Kaz’s right hand, and no one dares touch something that belongs to Dirtyhands.

(Y/N) stares at the poster for a little while longer— they got her nose wrong, made it too pointy —before smirking to herself. She knows how this will all go down, has seen it played out a few dozen times before (this is a regular occurrence, after all, a bounty is placed on her head every couple of months, whenever she loses her temper and murders someone who was deemed untouchable, or steals something much too valuable for her blood-stained hands). So, yes, she knows how this will go; the bounty will stay up for a couple of weeks, long enough for a few to dare try to kill her, and then it’ll be removed by whoever placed it once they realize it’s futile, once they see how everyone who even dares breathe too close to her winds up dead. She hopes the assassination attempts are entertaining, she hopes whoever dares come after her head gives her a good fight, if only to keep things interesting. It’s been a while since she’s had some unrestrained fun.

(Kaz keeps her on a tight rein, knows better than to let her run around freely. To say things can get out of hand when she’s left to her own devices would be an understatement.)

“Again?”

The voice comes from behind her, and (Y/N) doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is, she heard his steps since before he even walked into the room. (It’s easy to know when it’s Kaz, he subconsciously places more weight on his left leg to keep the right one from aching, it makes his footsteps distinctive.) Still, she angles her head to meet his eyes. He’s leaning over her chair, cold eyes watching the bounty poster with disdain.

He’s never said it but (Y/N) knows that he doesn’t appreciate her life being imperiled. She is, in a way, an extension of him, and therefore any threats to her he sees as direct threats to him. Dirtyhands doesn’t take it well to being threatened.

“It’s okay, boss,” Jesper calls out. He’s still tipping his chair back, now playing with his guns. (Y/N) is kind of tempted to lean forward and kick one of the chair’s wooden legs, just to watch him struggle, possibly even fall. But Jesper’s known her long enough to realize when she’s on the verge of becoming a nuisance because his eyes narrow playfully and he lets the chair’s weight drop forward, “I wouldn’t worry too much.”

From the corner of her eye, (Y/N) can see the way Kaz’s face morphs. It’s almost indistinguishable, but she notices it. She thinks she would be able to spot the most minimal change in Kaz, she’s known him long enough for that. (Y/N) watches in amusement as he opens his mouth, no doubt to argue that he isn’t worrying at all, because Gods forbid he ever outwardly cared about anyone, but Jesper beats him to the punch and keeps going, “Heard some of Pekka’s Lions talking ‘bout how they’re not even going to try to come after her this time.”

“How boring,” she mutters to herself in disappointment, reaching for her glass of whisky. She’d meant for the comment to go unheard but Jesper’s snicker tells her that she wasn’t successful.

She takes a chug as Jesper points an accusatory finger at her and smirks, “That’s all on you, Marbles.”

At her bewildered look, he elaborates, “Two of them said something about not wanting to meet the same fate as the Razorgull guy from a couple of months ago—” (Y/N) smirks at that. The guy had deserved it. He hadn’t just tried to kill her, but also grope her. Murder she could understand, respect even, but touching someone else without their consent? No, she drew the line there. She’d had him swallow his own testicles; it’d seemed fitting enough. “—and the other one said that even if you hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t come close, not with you being Kaz’s right hand,” Jesper pauses for a second, a smug smile appearing on his lips, “and his best friend.”

Their reaction is instantaneous; Kaz goes rigid at the words and a smirk takes over (Y/N)’s features.

Oh, if the night didn’t just suddenly get better.

She glances up at her best friend, only to find him already glaring daggers at Jesper, who shrugs helplessly and innocently says, “Just telling it like I heard it, boss.” The flicker of amusement in his eyes reveals that he’s very much aware of just how much ammunition he’s provided (Y/N) with.

(Y/N)’s smirk becomes wider and gains a teasing edge when Kaz looks down to meet her eyes. His eyes harden, explicitly telling her to not utter a single word. Sadly for him, she has never been one to follow the rules, and Kaz must notice she’s not about to obey because his face morphs slightly, just enough to show the most minimum amount of discomfort. He cringes just the tiniest bit, bracing himself.

He knows her too well.

“You hear that?” she asks him, tone light and filled with amusement, “We’re best friends!”

“We are not,” Kaz tenses his jaw as he replies. He backs away from her, as if creating physical space between them will somehow stop the words from leaving her mouth and making their way towards him. As if distance could make her less of an bother.

(Y/N) fake gasps, clutching the skin over her heart in the most dramatic manner, “You wound me deeply, Kazzy.”

Jesper snorts, coughing to try to drown the laughter. She might be the only one who doesn’t get a knife to the jugular when calling him that.

Kaz’s eyes snap toward the Sharpshooter and the look must be deadly because Jesper quiets down immediately and tries his best to evade the boss’s glare. Kaz’s gaze then shifts towards (Y/N) and she perks up at the way his eyes harden even further in annoyance. He’s told her a million times to drop that ‘ridiculously stupid’ nickname and she’s decided she never will, not when it drives him to this point of exasperation.

(She’s a thrill chaser, you see. That’s what happens when you’ve seen just about everything and lived twice as much; few things get your heart pumping. And getting on Kaz’s nerves? That’s always exciting. (Y/N) never knows what to expect of him. The Bastard of the Barrel is unpredictable in a way that’s just delightful.)

“If you call me that one more time—”

“What are you gonna do? You can’t possibly try to hurt me. Best friends don’t do that to each other,” she mocks.

His eyebrow twitches, her grin stretches.

Oh, she’s going to have a field day with this one.

It’s obvious that Kaz knows he’s not winning this discussion because he walks forward, snatches the revised contracts and makes his way back to where he came from.

“Get those done before tomorrow afternoon.”

Boring. She was expecting more banter.

(Y/N) turns around to watch him leave, unable to stop herself from throwing a sarcastic, “Sure thing, bestie.” She does her best to sweeten the last word in a way that she knows will infuriate Kaz.

He freezes.

Bingo.

Even from afar, (Y/N) can see the way he tightens the grip on his cane. She’s thoroughly disappointed when he doesn’t throw a dagger her way. That would’ve been exciting. He takes another route, one she should’ve seen coming.

“I’ve got seven more files that need to be corrected. Collect them when you’re done with those.”

The corner of her lips tugs upwards slightly. There’s something thrilling about playing this game with Kaz, of seeing how much one of them can push before the other yields. He’s skilled and she enjoys the competition.

She ignores his order, “Goodnight, Kazzy.”

He slams the door on his way out, the only visible sign that she managed to get on his nerves. That’s mildly entertaining. Causing even the slightest slip of Kaz’s control over his temper is a success in her books.

“You’re out of your mind,” Jesper informs her.

She raises her glass of whisky at him and winks.

And that’s how it begins, as a joke. (Y/N) refers to Kaz as her best friend on every given chance. His reactions never disappoint.

There’s a lot of death threats;

(“Don’t mind him, bestie here is always grumpy.”

Clenched jaw, an exasperated sigh. “I will murder you.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Kazzy.”

There’s a knife thrown her way. (Y/N) catches it with ease, whistling good-naturedly. She smirks when she catches the look of annoyance in Kaz’s face.)

and a lot of not so kind words thrown her way.

(“I get special best friend privileges, right?”

“You get tolerated,” Kaz mutters, “barely.”

“That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me. Now tell me you love me.”

There’s that Brekker glare, one that would send anyone to an early grave. (Y/N) just smiles sweetly.

“Get out.”

“Whatever makes you happy, best friend.”

She cackles as she closes the door behind her, the curses Kaz is sending her way loud enough for her to hear.)

All in all, (Y/N) is as happy as can be. Having the time of her life, really. It’s not often that she finds something that makes Kaz fume. He plays the game too, of course. He has her going over financial documents and legal contracts on her free time, knowing just how much she hates the bureaucracy, and he gives her the household chores she despises the most. Still, (Y/N) doesn’t complain. She does everything with a smug smile on her face. The annoyance that flashes through Kaz’s face makes it all worth it.

The bracelet isn’t something she plans for, it really isn’t, but the Saints place the opportunity right in front of her and who is she but a mere mortal that must obey the signs evidently laid by otherworldly deities (or whatever bullshit those religious fanatics preach).

(Y/N) inspects the wristlets in her hand. They’re black and rough, made of broken-down nets that fishermen dispose of near the pier when the material has worn down beyond repair and is no longer useful. The little girl who had sold it to her couldn’t have been older than seven, and yet the design was more than decent. (Y/N) had offered three kruge for it, much more than it was worth. The child had looked delighted, had thanked her profusely as she’d placed the coins inside her worn-down shoes.

Oh, (Y/N) cannot wait to see Kaz’s face.

“What’s that?” Jesper asks as she meets up with him, eying the bracelets with a gleam of interest. He twirls his guns absentmindedly, missing the way some of the fishermen glance at him with distrust.

“Oh, you know, just some matching bracelets for me and my best friend.”

Jesper snickers, shaking his head and proceeding to let out a low whistle.

“This might be his breaking point.”

“Wouldn’t that be delightful.”

“You’re insane, Marbles.”

She gives him a wicked smile accompanied by a wink. She’s about to retort when she catches sight of a shadow on the corner of her eye. She recognizes it immediately as her target. Shopping, as fun as it had been, wasn’t the reason she and Jesper were waiting by the pier. They’ve got orders. She has people to torture and interrogate and dispose of— preferably in a quiet manner —and Jesper is Kaz’s way of making sure she’s got her back covered. (Not that she needs backup, but whatever, she has tried arguing with Kaz about it and it’s the one thing he won’t relent on, the one matter she’s accepted she won't ever win. Kaz doesn't play when it comes to her safety.).

“If you’re kind enough to hold these for me,” she places the bracelets on Jesper’s unoccupied hand, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

They make it back to the Slat before sunrise. (Y/N) had been quick and efficient, as she always was, and Jesper had been a quiet and solid shadow, as he always was.

“I assume it all went according to plan,” the Bastard asks when he hears their steps coming into his office. It’s late, or rather extremely early in the morning, and yet (Y/N) isn’t surprised by Kaz’s presence. He rarely sleeps.

“It went without a hitch, boss,” Jesper responds, resting against the doorframe.

(Y/N) hesitates for a split second, her memory providing a brief flashback to the interrogation she’d done, to three little words the man had let slip out: they’re coming for you.

A warning or maybe a promise.

Thrilling, either way. It wasn’t often that she was verbally threatened.

At the time, she’d dismissed the words, too filled with bloodlust to pay them any mind, but now, with a clear mind and a steady heartbeat, she suddenly remembers her face plastered on paper all over Ketterdam and wonders if the words might be related to the bounty on her head.

Oh, she hopes so. That would prove to be fun.

They’re coming for you. Good. Let them try.

She nods her head in agreement with Jesper’s words. Kaz nods in approval and then jerks his chin Jesper’s way, a clear sign of dismissal. The Sharpshooter never walks into Kaz’s office after missions like this. He’s an escort, a babysitter of sorts, merely Kaz’s way of making sure she heads his way instead of making a beeline for her bed.

(Y/N) sticks her tongue out at him and Jesper blows her a kiss in response.

Lucky bastard. It’s always her that has to stay up to report. And she hates to admit it, but she’s tired, she can feel the exhaustion begin to creep on her bones and settle in. She has been up for more than thirty-seven hours at this point, and she can feel it catching up to her. Still, she knows that Kaz prefers to hear details when the information is fresh on her mind, when she can provide as much detail as possible, so she pushes through for him. She just has to wait a little while longer before crawling into her bed and passing out for the next twelve hours.

“Marbles comes bearing gifts by the way,” is the last thing the Sharpshooters says before exiting.

A smirk takes over her features, sleep, exhaustion and the new information briefly forgotten.

Kaz is going to hate it.

Lovely.

Kaz seems to sense, probably by the wicked amusement on her face, that whatever it is it’s not something he’s going to enjoy. His face twists into a scowl.

“Out with it, then.”

She pulls out the dark bracelet from her pocket as she walks towards Kaz, dangling it in front of his face when she’s close enough.

Jesper had handed them back on the way home, tossing them over as soon as she’d wiped the blood off her hands. He hadn’t said a word, but (Y/N) knew that the action had meant to snap her out of the weird haze that clouded her mind after every mission, where adrenaline still coursed through her body and all she could think about was bloodshed, fingers itching to kill and maim and fight.

(It was a thing, the haze. When taking lives there was nothing but calmness and bloodthirst, the restlessness that always lingered beneath her skin subsiding as soon as a weapon was placed in her hand and orders were given. And as soon as the mission was done, as soon as the target was neutralized and she’d efficiently fulfilled her orders, fogginess followed. Her mind became clouded, as if somewhat trapped in a loop of violence, every nerve on edge and ready for any threat to emerge.

She was brought up as a killing machine, a child soldier, the best out of all the assassins produced by the Silent Blades, her father’s pride. She was ruthless, wretched, or at least those had been the words used to describe her when she’d been a child. She supposed the dissociative state she slipped into was normal when considering her upbringing, some sort of psychological shield that kept her from going insane.

She never spoke about it, but the Crows somehow knew. They often eased her out of it, knowing full well that when trapped in that state she had not ounce of thought and only muscle memory to rely on, which made her infinitely more lethal.)

Jesper’s actions had worked like a charm. With something else to do with her hands, the fogginess had ruptured. She’d absentmindedly tied one of the bracelets on her own wrist, fingers playing with the edges of the other.

It’s that bracelet, the one on her arm, that Kaz glances at now. It’s brief, but for a split second the scowl etched on his face softens and something that she can’t quite catch passes through his eyes. It’s gone before (Y/N) can even begin to process it.

“Best friends have to have matching bracelets, don’t they?” And if she wonders about it later, she’ll blame it on the exhaustion, but the words come out softer than she intends them to. A jest, but not any less truthful.

Kaz’s face morphs and she gets a fleeting glimpse at that flicker in his eyes again. His scowl melts into something a tad bit gentler, the look contrasted by the aggressiveness with which he snatches the bracelet from her hand, “You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.” He means that and his tone has enough bite to make her cackle.

Amusing.

Placing her hands on her back pockets and shrugging, she responds, “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Kaz snorts, “Go take a bath.” He dismisses her, turning around and making his way to his desk, “Reports can wait until you don’t look half dead.”

That’s unexpected.

(Y/N) raises her eyebrows, “You’re being nice.” It isn’t often that Kaz forgoes a report after a mission. He might’ve been more touched by the gift than he’s letting on.

“It’s for my own sake,” he retorts, not turning around, “you just stink and it’s making me nauseous.”

She does have a lingering smell of blood and sea water.

“Everything in this damned place stinks,” she responds. I know you’re lying, she’s saying, I know you’re being kind.

“Get out.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” (Y/N) mocks, walking out of his office.

She sleeps a full day after that, everyone knowing better than to bother her unless they want to lose to their head, and when she reports to Kaz the next morning the three words she’d heard from the man slip her mind. (Y/N) doesn’t remember them until a few weeks later when she’s tied to the ceiling by her wrists, face bleeding.

Now, she must admit, she’s impressed. No one had ever tried kidnapping before. There’d been more attempts on her life than she could even count; stabs resulting in blood being shed, never one drop of hers, poison that she had either swallowed down like a champ or identified before a single lick of it touched her tongue, because being raised an assassin meant she’d been trained in the art of toxins and she’d built up tolerance to pretty much every substance in existence, and that one time they’d tried to shot at her, which only resulted in (Y/N) stealing Jesper’s gun and placing a bullet right between the perpetrator’s eyebrows. All in good fun. Kidnapping was new, but only because those who had attempted on her life had never tried joining forces, all of them wishing to keep the financial reward for themselves.

Torturing, that was new, too.

She could endure, of course she could, she’d been trained for this. That did not mean she’d missed it.

The poster had stated she was wanted dead or alive and it was clear that the man in front of her wanted to take his time. It was personal, she could tell by the brunt of his hits and the delicate precision of his cuts. Had she been anyone else, she would’ve been begging for it to stop, but (Y/N) was a Silent Blade, even if she’d left the organization and that life behind, and she would never break.

The only reason she was in this situation was because the assailants had gotten the upper hand. They’d used one of (Y/N)’s street urchins— a little girl with piggy tails and two missing teeth, one of the ones who gathered information for (Y/N) and traded it for food and shelter —as leverage. And time had apparently made her soft because she’d hesitated. The brief second of doubt had been everything they’d needed.

Them subduing her didn’t mean she’d gone down without a fight. There’s been five of them in the beginning. Only three remained. She’d plucked one guy’s eye out, going deep sever the optic nerve and cause brain damage, and she’d ripped the other’s ear with her teeth before slitting his throat. She’d managed to stab one of the three men remaining with a dagger before being injected with some unknown serum. It hadn’t knocked her out, not the way it was supposed to if the incredulous look on her kidnapper’s face was any indication, but it had drugged her enough to allow them to overpower her.

And now here she was, slowly bleeding out.

“I intent on handing your corpse to them and claiming the reward.” He’s been quiet for so long that (Y/N) had almost forgotten his presence. She doesn’t raise her head, only looks up. It’s hard to do so when her right eye is swollen shut. “But they never specified the conditions it had to be in.”

The man has his back towards her, fingers running through a box of tools. He’s used almost all of them on her by this point. Amateur. A skilled torturer knows to go slow, to drag it out, to choose a weapon and stick to it until the person is weeping and screaming.

“It was my brother that you killed.”

That sparks her interest, a smirk taking over her bloodied lips. She looks at him, dead in the eye.

“Which one?” she taunts.

The sound of her voice, still strong despite the blood loss, startles him. He freezes for a split second, hand over a wooden baseball bat.

“What?”

She snickers, blood dripping into the floor. “I’ve killed a lot of men, darling.” The way he seethes, fury filling his features, amuses her. “So which one was your brother?”

“You had him swallow his own testicles.”

“Oh, him,” she nods her head in appreciation. “Can’t say I regret it.”

Now he’s fuming, hand shaking so badly he almost loses the grip on the bat. If (Y/N) looks close enough she can see the resemblance. Same brown hair, same nose, same crazy look in their eyes.

“I’ll make you regret it.”

“You can certainly try,” she concedes mockingly. Because, honestly, there’s nothing he can do to her that she hasn’t already withstood.

There’s a raging roar and then a burst of pain. A hit to her abdomen, which no doubt bruised a rib, and then two to her back. But it’s okay, she thinks to herself as she wheezes and coughs, trying to regain air in her lungs, she knows how to play this game and how to win it. Keep him talking, keep him angry, let him think he has the upper hand, keep him from noticing how she’s preparing to break free.

“I wonder…” he murmurs, bat dragging behind him. “You’re not particularly remarkable.” She scoffs as he begins circling her, a tactic supposed to drive the prisoner into panic at the lack of vision of their assailant. Her heart doesn’t stutter. She’s trained to identify people and objects by sound not sight. She knows precisely where he is, even if she can’t see him. “So, what makes you interesting enough for the Bastard to keep so close?”

She grins, feral and with bloodstained teeth.

“Why don’t you come closer and I’ll show you?”

His face does not change but his step falters. “You cannot believe me stupid enough to fall for that.”

“You were stupid enough to tie my wrists with handcuffs,” is all she replies before dislocating her own thumbs and releasing herself from the shackles.

She hits the floor hard, body swaying for a second. Her hands are numb, nerve endings frayed. It hits her, now that she has to keep herself outfight, just how much blood she’s lost. The edges of her vision blur.

There’s a cut on her thigh, it bleeds heavily. Her back is all flayed skin. Breathing is hard.

It doesn’t matter. She only needs four fingers and half a mind to hold and use a dagger. She shakes the dizziness off.

He comes at her, but she’s expecting that. Sidestepping him is easy, kicking him in the back as he passes by even more so.

“You’re not much without your friends and a syringe full of drugs, are you?” she stumbles a little as she taunts him. Time is not on her side, she knows this. He’s cut deep in her arms and legs, no major artery touched, but with precision to give her a slow and prolonged death. She’s been steadily bleeding for hours.

(Y/N) has to end this. Soon.

He comes for her again, and she dodges, punching him right in the gut. He feigns left and she moves away, noticing too late the fist that impacts with the right side of her face. Despite the pain, she manages to stomp his toes and slam her knee against his balls.

That does it.

A high whimper leaves his mouth and as he struggles for air, she backs up. Keeping her eyes on him, her right arm reaches back to the toolbox. She knows what she’s grasped as soon as her fingers graze it.

“Say hi to your brother for me.”

The scalpel lodges itself right on his carotid artery.

“Nice,” she mumbles in delirium as she hears him choke to death. It’d been a majestic throw.

The adrenaline is gone in a second. (Y/N) stumbles backwards, barely aware of all the tools scattering around in the floor. She lets herself rest against the wall, slowly sitting down on the floor.

She’s going to die.

It doesn’t matter that she’s managed to get rid of that poor excuse of a man. She’s too injured. She knows.

(Y/N) isn’t scared. She’s tangled with Death for a long time, and as cold begins to creep in and the edges of her vision blacken, it feels like welcoming an old friend. It feels like getting what she has always had coming for her.

The tips of her fingers begin to tingle, her body’s desperate effort at keeping her heart pumping. Her ears are ringing, hard enough that when shouts begin all that she can hear are muffled sounds.

Then someone’s touching her face. She greets the warmth.

“Fuck,” she hears as she tumbles forward, her forehead landing on a collarbone. Jesper grasps the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. At least, she thinks it’s him. Her brain feels mushy, but her nose has never failed her, and it smells like gunpowder and mint.

She’s laid down on the ground gently, probably to inspect her injuries before moving her.

“You’re going to be okay,” the Sharpshooter reassures her, but his voice is trembling. He’s scared. She must look worse than she feels, and she feels like she’s been attacked by a group of Heartrenders.

She wants to speak, to tell him it’s okay, but opening her mouth feels like an impossible task.

“Save your energy.” That’s Kaz. His voice is steady, but she can feel the underlying tension, the worry in his words. “You are not dying tonight.” And he says it with so much conviction, like he would hold her soul with his own hands to keep it anchored to her body, like he would keep her heart beating with pure willpower.

Her eyes look for him, but she catches sight of something else entirely.

“You’re wearing it.”

She must make no sense, words slurred, but Kaz understands. His whispered words are the last thing she hears before slipping out of consciousness.

“How couldn’t I?”

Then there’s nothing. She loses track of time. She comes back to her body from time to time, able to hear words but incapable of pinpointing the speaker. She’s floating, but there’s pain and aching.

“…too much blood, I don’t know…”

“…keep her alive.”

“I am trying!”

“Don’t try, do it.”

“…punctured lung, broken ribs…”

“…don’t know how she’s still alive.”

When she comes to the first thing that she feels is blinding pain. Everything hurts. Her muscles complain as she sits up. She clenches her jaw to keep the tears at bay. The worst is already over, she will not cry.

“Don’t move,” (Y/N) freezes at the command, her head snapping towards the voice. “Nina stitched you back together, I doubt she would be very happy to see all her hard work ruined.”

She gently eases herself back on the bed, fingertips running over her bandaged stomach. She can feel the edges of the stitches poking through it. It must’ve been bad, then, if she required stitches to keep the wound together. Usually, she’s a fast healer, a result of all the training she’d gone through.

“How long?” Her voice is raspy after not being used. Her throat hurts, which might be related to the way she was choked to the verge of unconsciousness several times while held hostage.

“Four nights.”

Bad then.

(Y/N) can feel Kaz’s eyes on her, assessing. She meets his stare, and it’s when she’s looking at him that a vague memory comes back.

Her eyes drift down to his wrist.

The twin bracelet to her own, the one she keeps tightly wrapped around her wrist, as if part of her own skin, greets her.

“You are wearing it.”

Kaz frowns in confusion, until he follows her line of sight. He looks away, hand clenching and unclenching over the head of his cane.

“Even after almost dying you’re still insufferable,” he responds.

But when he looks back at her, (Y/N) can see everything in his eyes.

How could I not, he’d said, and he’d meant it. If friendship was something that could bloom in a wretched place like Ketterdam, Kaz was her best friend and she was his, even if they’d never discussed it, even if they would never admit it. You’re the steady order to my unrelenting chaos, she thought to herself, someone I would follow to the end of the world.

He nods, as if reading her mind and agreeing with her.

“Rest.” That’s an order, one she has no intention of disobeying.

“Sure thing,” she responds as Kaz makes his way towards the door, “bestie.”

(Y/N) can feel the amusement in his words, “Absolutely insufferable.”

She smirks, toying with the ends of the bracelet’s strings.

(Y/N) never takes it off. Neither does Kaz.

[james-is-here]

hi!!! i absolutely love your writing it's so good! please keep up the good work, i also never really see any kpop boy pussies so i'm hoping you will do this request.

i have a request, what about cock obsessed lee know who can't stand not having reader's cock not pounding his pussy. he gets so needy constantly begging and touching you very different from how he normally acts. so reader in return teases him back and it ends with lee know getting the best fucking of his life. thank you!! 

-🐰🔪

Oooh boy, thank you, after I wrote the other Minho fic, I've been motivated to write more and I am slowly but surely becoming obsessed with whiney, subby Min 🫠Also, the boys have like all the brands I know (except Han's) and I didn't want to repeat so your brand in BrandRacha is Prada :P

Also, let me know if I misinterpreted your request and I can rewrite it, I don't know why but I feel like I did by accident. There's still BoyPuss Min, just not sure if I fulfilled it to your liking.

Blogs: @belladonna6-6-6 @heartbinn @succubus-hansol @leezanetheofficial @yongbokkk @michelle4eve @dontwannaexsist (Imk if I forgot you or you want to be added.

Tags: Min is called good girl so some feminization, desperate Min, implied color system, lots of edging, Min is called princess, good boy, kitten, other members are mentioned, Minnie gets emotional and drops, brief mention of a cervix. lmk if I forgot anything.

When you have free time, it's not just your free time it's yours and Minho's free time and during this free time he flips from his usual self so fast you get whiplash and you're completely thrown off every time.

He's seemingly annoyed that you and Chan hug him but that night he's a complete 180, begging for you to hold him close and let him ride your thigh.

Absolutely killing the stage and being his usual annoyed but loving self and after he's dragging you to an empty room, shoving himself against the door and pulling you in for a kiss while pulling your hand to his crotch and grinding the best he could in his stage pants.

You're wrapping your arms around him from behind on camera or on stage and he's standing there almost begrudgingly but really he's throbbing in his pants and soaking his underwear and when alone his hands are all over you trying to pull you close.

Don't get me wrong, you love how obsessed Minho was with you. You both have equal libido and stamina and it amuses you whenever you see the needy look his eyes. It's just...oof, well, a lot. He does relax but if you had to think, he has you inside him more often then not having you inside him.

Yes, the boys know about you, unfortunately Minho's neediness can be relentless and he said himself before a movie night with the others "I'll behave, please just let me cockwarm" and next thing you knew, Minho was squirming in your lap and Chan scolded both of you before kicking you both from movie night and to your room.

Now, you've been gone for a week for a Prada event and it was really fun to do something on your own from your group but ~someone~ called you at every opportunity the first day you arrived at the location the event was at that you had to send them your schedule so they didn't interrupt anything.

When you arrived at the dorms from the airport, it seemed that no one was home. It was late but most of them usually stay up late. Walking down the hall, you knock lightly on Chan's door before opening it. "Mn!" He looks up from his laptop, taking off his headset and getting up to meet you at the door to pull you into a tight hug, a smile growing on your face as he squeals softly and rocks you back and forth. "Hi Hyung!" Your arms wrap around his shoulders as you return the hug.

He then starts to jokingly cry and pull back, holding your shoulders at arms length. "I have all my kids back!" You let a snort out as he pulled you back into his arms. "Oh, I hope you're never gone that long again." "Hyung, You're sounding like an obsessed boyfriend." "No, I'm your desperate hyung, go take care of your boyfriend please."

You laugh as he all but begs you, turning you around and pushing you towards Minho's room. "I'm so jet lagged though, can I wait until tomorrow when I'm more awake?" "No, now, please, go." You shake your head and lightly kick your bag to roll over to your door before smiling at Chan. "Not a very good welcome home, you're all settled for the night." "I think Hyunjin is still awake painting." You turn in the opposite direction to go say hi to the dancer. "Jinnie." You cheer softly but Chan grabs your wrist. "Hyung..." You pout and he pushes you back over to Minho's room. "Boyfriend first, Jinnie later." Groaning you playfully shove him before going to your boyfriend.

You open his door, not even deciding to knock, and find your boyfriend in your hoodie and his sweats, laying in his stomach with one leg extended and the other thrown over his mangled blankets. He's hugging his pillow but looking again, the pillow case doesn't match his and you realize it's your pillow.

There's enough room next to him on his left so you gently crash next to him, throwing an arm over his back and pulling him, causing him to roll onto his side and into your chest. His hand falls open and something slides out, picking it up, it's a remote. You chuckle before placing it to the side and reaching down, placing your hand on his abdomen.

Tugging his hoodie, you slip your hand underneath, his skin warm under your cold hands and he whines in his sleep. Moving down, you slip into his sweats and you were honestly expecting his boxer shorts but instead you felt lace. Tracing the delicate details, you follow them until his hip, gently taking the band between your fingers then sliding further down until your fingers are near his core. "Min~" You groan quietly and remove your hand, pulling him closer until his ass is pushed into you.

Reaching up, you grab the remote, wrapping your arms around him before pressing the button for the second setting. His body jolts and pushes back into you as he gasps, breathing heavily. You can faintly see purple in the dark room of the remote and you smile softly when you process what toy is nestled inside him, the only one he has access to, not too long but not to short and no stimulation to his clit. It was the worse one to be left with but hey, you love torturing him.

Moving the remote to the other hand, you reach back into his sweats, dragging your fingertips over the lace of his underwear then grab his thigh, carefully lifting his leg and shifting onto your back slightly so he's laying back on you.

Your hand cups his heat, causing him to choke out a gasp as his chest heaves faster and his hips start to squirm. Raising the speed, your fingers find his clit through the fabric, making tight, quick circles that pull quiet moans out of him as he parts his lips and leans his head back on your shoulder.

"Minnie~" You murmur quietly, moving the fabric to the side and touching him directly. He is soaking wet, dripping around the toy and all over your fingers. "Minnie, Princess~" His breathing picks up, chest rising and falling rapidly and as his hips squirm and push back into you and your hand. You draw a few more rapid circles before withdrawing from him completely and turning off the toy.

He lets out a choked sob, hips still moving wildly as he tries to chase his high before eventually settling down with a whine and turning his head towards you, opening his eyes and blinking away his tiredness. "Hyung..." He pouts and you kiss it away. "Hi Princess." "Please~" "How about...no."

You turn the toy on again, resting your hand above his core and holding him against you. "How about I finally get back at you being a slutty brat, huh?" "I-I'm not a brat." "Mmm, but you are, Princess, don't lie." "M'Not, fuck~" You add your fingers back into the mix, playing with his clit. "Did you really think I wouldn't get back at you for being rude to the boys?" "I-I wasn't...I'm not-" "We just want to love you, Minnie, why you gotta hate us?" He whines and shakes his head. "N-No, that's not..."

You turn off the toy again and remove your hands from him. "No, Hyung, please stop." "You want me to stop? I'll stop if that's what you want." You move slightly, making it look like you're gonna leave the bed before he turns towards you, eyes brimming with tears as he grabs your wrist. "Don't go, please, please just fill me up please, I want your cock so bad, please." "I don't know if you deserve it, Minho. You should appreciate our love."

He gasps, sitting up and pushing you onto your back before straddling your thighs. "I-I do, I really do. I swear I appreciate all of you, I love all of you." "I don't know, Min." Your left hand, extended out on the other side of the bed, you click the second setting and he squeals with a gasp, hip jolting on your thighs before you place your hands on his hip to hold him still as his upper half falls forward and his hands prop himself up on your stomach.

His moans are breathy gasps as he tries to move his hips. "How about four more?" "Four?!" Tears fall down his cheeks as his fingers tighten around your shirt and his nails dig into your skin, not painful thanks to the shirt barrier but a light sting. "No...No, please, I'm sorry. I-I do a-appreciate you all, I d-do show it, I-I'm not a liar, Hyung, please..."

You know he does, he's not that cruel but it amuses you how he teases the boys and shows distain for their affection but then 180s with you and always tries to get your cock in him.

"Four more, for the last four boys." "No, please, I'm sorry." He cries and leans down until his face is hidden in your neck, tears falling onto your skin. "This is how you'll make up for it, yeah?" "No, please...M'sorry, Hyung, please..." "I said four didn't I? You don't know what I'll do for you to make it up to me." He doesn't have to make it up to you, you know the truth, but again, you love torturing him.

"Four more times then I'll tell you what I want." He whines when you finally shut the toy off, hip shaking in your hold. "Three, my bad. Or I could start over and you could do seven and tell me what each member means to you while trying not to cum." "No! Fuck, please, I-I can't take it."

Okay, you weren't that cruel...maybe another time.

"Four more, kitten." Turning it to the fourth level this time, he jolts, slowly trying to slide his hips further up to meet your crotch but you kept him in place. He harshly tugs at your shirt with a whine. "Off, please, off." "Don't move. You move, we start back at three." He nods, his hands moving to your waistband as you sit up slightly and remove your shirt. You could barely drop it to the floor when he pushes you back by your shoulders and his hands are rubbing your chest, his nails are scratching lightly against your toned stomach, their moving to hold your waist, they're everywhere.

"Stop." "What?" He whines and brings your hands back to his hips. "I-I'm gonna cum, stop." You smile gently and stop the vibrator. "Aw, thanks for telling me, such a good girl taking her punishment." You praise, lifting a hand to cradle his face and he leans into it, your thumb wiping away his tears and you pull him down, attaching you lips to his firmly and finally kissing him since you've returned home.

His hands cradle your face, kissing back just as hard before pulling back and moving to the crook of your neck again. "T-Two more...Please." "Being such a good girl, Minnie." Before turning it back on, you tug his waistband. "Take these off, Kitten." He gets off you, quickly taking the clothing off and tossing them away before getting back on your lap. He was wearing a pair of black lace panties you bought for him. "So pretty." You murmur softly, placing your hands on his waist before turning the toy on again.

You grip his waist slightly, pulling him down to sit on your thighs properly then sliding your hand down so your thumb is just above where his clit is. His stomach twist and he whines, his heat throbbing painfully and he wishes you would just move your thumb just an inch to relieve some of the pain but he knows it's wishful thinking, you know his body, know that if you did, he'd cum instantly. You're teasing him, driving him crazy and he tries to think of anything but your thumb near where he needs to be touched.

You bumped it to four and his hips jolt forward, your thumb nudging his clit slightly and he barely gets out his words. "Shit- S-Stop, stop." You turn it off and Minho shakes above you. "Fuck, it's hurts. Hyung please." "You can do one more, Kitten. I know you can." "I-It's too much, I- I can't-" His hips squirm subconsciously and you move your hand away slightly. "I know you can, it's okay."

He drops his head, his left hand holding himself up on your stomach and his right on the bed. "Min?" He hums, sniffing softly. "Min, color." "Green...i-it's green, m'sorry." "No, No, it's okay. Can you take one more?" "Yeah, I can...I can." "You sure?" "Yeah. S'punishment." "But if you can't take it, we stop." "I-I want to." His fingertips lightly graze over your abdomen. "Can..." "Can what darling?" "C-Can I touch you?" His fingers curl into your waist band and a soft smile graces your lips. "Yeah, you've been such a good boy, you could've touched me a while ago."

He tugs down your waistbands down just enough to wrap his hand around your length and pull it out from its confinement. "One more, hyung." "Okay." You turn it on one more time, pulling a whine from him as his hands are placed on your pelvis around your length. His head tilts back slightly before rolling back down and taking you into his hand.

He strokes you lazily but just enough to send sparks up your spine, making you groan. Minho whines softly, his hips stuttering with trying not to move and your heart melts. "Ride my thigh, baby." He shakes his head, picking it up and looking up at you. "N-No, one more, I-I can do it." "Min, it's okay." "S-Stop it, Stop the-" His legs shake as he gets closer and closer but you don't stop the vibrator and he takes it from your hand and turns it off, hips jolting forward as he settles from his last denied orgasm.

"Min, I was letting you cum. You didn't have to follow the punishment anymore." "B-But I-I'm a b-brat a-and I-I don't show that I a-appreciate the others..." "Oh, Min..."

Sitting up, you pull him into your arms and turn around, laying him on his back before his hands are on your chest as you pull your sweats back up. "Wait, Hyung-" "No, Min, what color?" "Green, Hyung, please. I-I have to-" "Truth, Min, What color?" You say firmly. "Hyung..." "Minho." You push, using his name and he stops and covers his face.

He's silent for a couple seconds before his body shakes and a choked cry gets caught in his throat. "Minnie..." "I-I d-do....I do apprec-iate a-all of you...I-I l-ove a-all o-of y-you, 'm s-sorry I-I d-don't sh-show it..." He gets out through his sobs. "Y-Yellow, 'M s-sorry, H-Hyung, 'm so s-sorry." You mentally slap yourself and lay down next to him, pulling him into your arms and hugging him close and tight. "No, Minnie, I'm sorry. I know you love them, I know you care about them, I should be the one apologizing, baby, I'm so sorry." You bury your face into his neck and hold him close both for your sake and his.

You feel so bad for causing his drop, of course you know that his coldness is just an act, you were just meaning to tease him. "Hyung is sorry, Minnie. I'm so so sorry." You kiss his cheek and lean back to look down at him, cupping his face with one hand and wiping his tears away. "I'm sorry for going to far." He sniffs, taking shaky deep breaths before leaning his forehead on yours. "Minnie?" "Hyung?" "You back with me?" "Y-Yeah." "You know when you dropped?" "L-Last I-I remember...w-was asking t-to touch you..." You sigh, bringing him back into your arms and tucking him under your chin.

"C'mon, let me clean you up." "W-Wait, but..." "Min, you just dropped, darling, I don't think it's best to keep going." "I-I said yellow...not red...I-I still r-really what your cock in me...this toy is dumb..." "Min..." "Please?" "Only if you promise that when we're done, I coddle you and give you the softest of aftercare and not just laying in bed after." "It's the middle of the night..." "Okay, fine, I'll just use a rag but let me make it up to you tomorrow?" "Sure."

You kiss him softly, like he was glass, before pulling back. "I really didn't have any way for you to make it up to me, I was just gonna fuck you and make you cum so it was more of a reward for you." "Is it still a reward?" "Of course but, now, you choose the position." "Any that let me look at and hold you." You laugh and gently pull him back onto your lap.

Carefully, you move the fabric covering him out of the way and slowly pull the toy out of him. "Shit." He pushes out with a heavy breath as you gently squeeze his hip. "Fuck...s'empty..." "Hold on, won't be for long." You set it aside and hold his other hip as he pulls down your waistband out of the way for you and pulls out your cock. Dragging him forward slightly, he wraps his arm around your neck as he lines you up with his entrance before sinking down. "Ah~ Fuck." His head drops down as his hand moves up a bit and he hovers over his clit. "Touch yourself, Kitten, go ahead."

His fingers instantly circle the bundle of nerves and his head falls onto your shoulder, his thighs moving automatically to ride you and you wrap your arms around his back to take control, thrusting up into him causing wet sounds to occur every time you thrust in and out of his soaked cunt.

"Fuck~ Right there." You thrust into that spot inside him quickly and you draw continuous moans out of him with every hit with your tip. "Move you fingers faster, baby." His fingers rub faster, drawing him closer to his continuously lost high.

"Open." He lifts his head and parts his lips, letting you put your thumb into his mouth and he closes around the digit. His tongue swirls around your thumb before you remove it and bring it down, glancing down to move his hand out of the way before looking back up at him and replace his fingers with your thumb. "Oh fuck~" His legs move again and bounce inconsistently, meeting your hips every couple bounces.

Your thrusts pick up speed along with your thumb and you throw your head back, groaning as your own high approached, then look back at him. "Fuck, Hyung, m'gonna cum, shit~ Ah~" He moans softly, his hips bucking forward and your thumb becomes firm against his clit. "Me too, Minnie. Go ahead, Kitten, you took my teasing so well, such a good boy, let go baby." Your thrusts go impossibly faster, at least to Minho, and he clenches around your length so tight you unexpectedly stop with a stutter, your thumb keeping its momentum as your sunk deep inside him.

"Fuck, Fu- Hyung, don't stop, don't- Ah Shit!" His moan drags from the back of his throat, morphing into a soft squeal as his walls flutter around you and he tightens around you even tighter, his hand flying to your wrist as he rocks his hips into your hand. "Fuck, Min." His tightness, the slickness, and his absolutely lewd sounds cause you to cum deep inside him shortly after, thrusting so shallowly and deeply it's as if he could feel you fuck your cum into his cervix.

"F-Fuck...s'deep, Ah~" His hips rock against yours before he's pulling your hand away and his thighs shake. He pushes your shoulders to push you back slightly before falling onto your chest and your slip out of him. You hiss and he moans, leaning his forehead on your peck as his muscle contract and he's too weak to stop your cum from dripping out of him. "Shit." He mutters quietly and grabs the toy from before and slowly inserts it into him as a temporary plug despite the multiple drips already staining your sweats.

Laying back on your chest, he wraps his arms around you. "Can we just stay here?" "We're all yucky though." "So? That's never stopped us from cleaning up later." You sigh, both having no energy and your jet lag catching up to you. "I'm only agreeing..." You struggle but manage to kick your sweats off then cover the both of you up. "...because I think my jet lag is catching up to me and I'm tired." "Good, sleep now."

He kisses your chest where he lays and you kiss the top of his head, closing your eyes and promptly passing out.

[driaswrld]

one night only! — gojo satoru and geto suguru.

wc : 2.1k

summary : fem!reader goes to a club with shoko to be free from her scary guard dog besties, satoru and suguru show up anyway, just a bunch of intimacy really. maybe one lil suggestive part w satoru?? mention of wlw shoko and possible insinuation of stoner geto lmao

part of : the star paradox collection.

notes : i headcanon poly satosugu as often toeing the line between platonic love and romantic love bcus these three idiots rlly can't tell the diff sometimes. also shoko is gay and is my gf don't @ me. also this is ooc of how satoru and suguru would be at a club cs lets be fr satoru would be an emotional drunken mess while suguru is in the bathroom smoking or smth

other : im having so many teenage romance thoughts ab poly satosugu. also this was kinda inspired by a poly marauders fic i read agesss ago

current casette : i was never there - the weeknd. me and your mama - childish gambino.

You can feel the bass of the music in your throat, your heartbeat racing to catch up with it.

Parties like these only had one common thread : brainless, brainless fun.

“That one over there,” Shoko murmurs against your ear as discreetly as she can, but just as loud as for you to hear her over the thumping music inside the club. Your gaze moves from the sequin strap across Shoko’s shoulder and over to a girl across the way, a redhead, leaning against the bar and knocking back an expensive looking drink. “She’s pretty.” You turn your head to Shoko’s ear.

Satoru and Suguru have been… hovering these past few weeks.

You love them, truly, the bestest best friends anyone could ask for. But two popular conventionally attractive men by your side at all times? It does put a damper on your love life. Shoko would be able to understand your point of view — if she wasn’t playing for the other team at least.

The redhead looks over her shoulder out at the mass of bodies on the dancefloor, the dark blue dress she has on really accentuates her figure — among other things. “You should go tal–” Before you can finish, Shoko’s mouth is agape, eyes fixed on the girl, and being the wingwoman that you are, you shove her forward a little. “Talk to her.”

“You sure?” Shoko wobbles forward, tipsy but sober enough to take a pretty girl home. The neon lights inside the club flash pink and blue then red and green then pink and—

“I don’t wanna abandon you, name.” You only laugh at Shoko, giving her two firm thumbs up, nudging her forward again, and still, she stands there contemplating. That is, until the redhead turns around and locks eyes with Shoko.

Oh, she’s far gone already.

“Don’t leave my peripheral.” Shoko kisses the side of your cheek and begins to saunter off, just as the song playing in the club changes to a softer, more sensual song.

There’s something about parties. Something that gives you the uneasy feeling two specific people could pop up at any time – two people you’re trying very hard to make clear to that you’re your own woman.

What makes a grown man wanna cry?

You slide back to the spot on the dancefloor you and Shoko shared moments ago, and with a sigh of near relief, you let the music transcend you to a different realm. Your body sways among the masses, a tinge of alcohol probably clouding your judgement because on any other occasion you’d find dancing in public embarrassing—

When it’s time, when it’s time, when it’s time, it won’t matter

There’s a sense of complete euphoria that washes over you, and before you know it, a slender arm snakes around your waist. And despite your better judgement, you know who it is before you look over your shoulder.

It’s an eerily intimate thing, feeling the chill of the six eyes raking over you.

You’re sure Suguru must be the only other person to feel how it feels, the goosebumps that rise on your flesh, hair standing on end. But not in fear. In something else entirely—

“You’re so pretty.” Satoru whispers against the edge of your ear. He doesn’t sound drunk. At the very least he barely sounds tipsy, just a small slur of speech in between, and you look over your shoulder at him.

“Prettier than you?” You stop moving and let out a laugh, and he goes brainless. Crystalline orbs stare down at you, and he pulls your body flush against him, pressing his body into yours from behind.

“Don’t stop,” he mumbles and your body sways, resuming with the rhythm of the blaring music. A whisper of the lyrics leaves his mouth, and you nearly forget how he knows the song — must’ve been in one of Suguru’s playlists. One of those playlists he keeps.

“Satoru—” you’re about to scold him, maybe tell him this is a thin line, one you’ve been toeing for too long.

Satoru brings his other arm around your waist, both his hands meeting in accord atop the flesh of your stomach. He waits for a beat, waits for you to tell him no, but it never comes.

I’m on the edge of something breaking

His head dips to your height, his hair tickles the back of your neck. You can feel the heat from his lips on your skin as he hums along to the lyrics. “Just feel it for a little...” He whispers.

Even in his tipsy but not-so-tipsy state, he knows exactly what he's doing. You think, maybe he’s always known. At least in body but not in mind.

If I keep going I won’t make it

A sigh escapes your lips, something akin to a breath of relief, like a weight lifts off your shoulders.

Satoru’s body grinds forward onto you, and your head tilts back onto his chest, a mouthful of lyrics leaving your mouth in a gasp. “Feels good, yeah?” He grins down at you, pleased, his voice a bit off-key in a more Satoru-like fashion.

“Didn’t know you knew the song,” the words leave your lips as you both lock eyes. He rolls his eyes and sinks his teeth into the exposed flesh of your shoulder playfully.

“Suguru plays it all the time—” He replies, then continues to hum along with the song, his voice barely sounding like his own. “It’s too sexy to not know.”

There’s a sense of comfort in not knowing the depth of what you feel in this moment.

Satoru spins you around to face him, and the breath leaves your lungs. And the moment in between knowing what your relationship is and not knowing all but fades to black.

And with the way he looks into your eyes, and leans forward, you think he just might break the line two.

And it’s all because of you—

The song fades out, to a more upbeat one, and Satoru’s hands fall limp at his sides. Suddenly, you remember how to breathe. And you swallow the lump in your throat, all while he gives you the signature goofy grin you’ve come to cherish.

You turn your head to look across the mini crowd, and Shoko is still there, one arm slung around the redhead as they both knock back shots.

Temporary. It’s no big deal, you and Satoru were just tipsy.

But that sense of relief is short-lived.

Embarrassingly so.

“Boo.” A sharp exhale leaves your lips as soon as you turn your head, and instead of Satoru staring down at you, your view is blocked by Suguru.

You look at him like a lost child, and he rears his head away to laugh at you. “Don’t look so scared, name.” He smirks, slyly, like Suguru always does when he’s taunting.

“You dumbass—” You breathe, a hand colliding with the edge of his shoulder in a soft shove and Satoru can’t help but laugh at the sight before him.

Then, Suguru’s fingers wrap around your wrist, two, then four then he’s tugging you forward, straight into him and Satoru. “Don’t be so mean to me, you’ll break my heart.” He says it so condescendingly, with such a smile that makes your heart leap at your current predicament.

Satoru really wasn’t done. He just brought in reinforcements.

“As if—” You grumble, and the lights dim for a second before flashing a neon purple. And that’s all the time Satoru and Suguru need.

“—I have a heart?” Suguru towers over you, and he bends his knees just a little, resting his chin against your shoulder so you can hear him. “Or as if you could break it?”

You think Suguru’s been smoking. The warmth of his breath against your bare skin makes you shiver a little. You think you feel a little dizzy just from looking at him.

The way his eyes are downcast, eyelids heavy, like he’s bordering on the precipice of eternal sleep or the best dream he’s ever had, one he doesn't want to wake from.

He looks at you like you're the latter rather than the former.

Satoru swings his hand forward, interlocking his fingers with yours, pale slender digits finding purchase between yours as he moves to your side. “As if to both.” He rolls his eyes, and Suguru lets out a soft whistle, “You’re so cold, Satoru.”

The song playing begins to fade out, and Suguru takes advantage of the few seconds before the song switches, that small gap of silence, and he whispers, “Dance with us..?”

“Duh.” You grab ahold of Suguru’s hand with your free one, all while Satoru’s grip on your other hand tightens just a little. “Who else would I dance with?”

These things are no secret, never have been and never will be. And you have a funny feeling you know why your love life remains so stagnant.

How does the old age thing go? Never let your girl have a boy bestfriend. Or worse, two.

The three of you saunter to the middle of the dancefloor, the neon lights flashing shades of blue.

And if you didn’t know better, you’d say whoever the DJ is, they’ve got a sick sense of humor.

Because they manage to play the most romantically erotic song you could ever hear in a club setting. Ironically, a song you recognize from your playlist — no doubt you learned it from one of Suguru’s tracklists. A very extensive one titled with a leaf emoji.

I’m in love when we are smoking that—

Suguru’s arm moves to wrap around your waist from in front, and he tugs you close as the soft tempo reverberates through the room. He shrugs some of his hair off his shoulder, dark eyes finding yours and he doesn’t dare look away for a second.

Suguru must think you're a pipe dream. That you’ll disappear if he blinks.

Your bodies rock from side to side and Satoru doesn’t let go of your hand, instead he slides behind you, following the rhythm you and Suguru have set in tune, raising your intertwined hands to his lips, and for a moment he uses them as a makeshift microphone to sing—

La-la-la-la-la

Suguru grins and he presses his chin atop your head, his other arm coming around to hug you close to his chest, while Satoru meets you both halfway, and it’s really just a sandwich swaying side to side with you in the middle.

I’m in love when we are smoking that—

What initially started off as something so simple, you coming to a club with Shoko wanting to finally get laid since your best friends managed to scare all the guys off — has turned into something so soft, so intimate.

There are never many words, never much explanation when you’re with Satoru and Suguru.

And it’s clear none of the three of you know what this is or where you stand. But for now, that’s okay.

La-la-la-la-la

“You okay?” Suguru dips his head to mumble into your ear, and you nod, words failing you.

In truth, you’ve never felt so soft, so safe yet so… vulnerable. But that’s also okay.

Satoru cranes his neck and leans his body over yours to look between you and Suguru, having not heard a thing. “You two okay?”

And you laugh. Suguru does too.

Suguru’s arms around you keeps you grounded against him, and Satoru’s weight against your back keeps you firm between them. “If you need us to stop… if you need a drink I can—” Suguru tries, but you cut him off with a soft pat to his shoulder.

“Don’t stop,” you mimic Satoru’s words from earlier as your own into Suguru’s chest and he melts. “Yeah?” He whispers.

“Yeah.” You affirm, and he nods, his chin going back to rest atop your head. And you wrap a free arm around Suguru’s middle, the other still softly interlaced with Satoru’s at your side. “M’ happy here.”

“In the club?” Suguru asks, albeit a little louder so you can hear him an amused smile slipping onto his features. “No, just—” Your words fail you. But this, there can’t be any intent without feeling, true unbiased feeling.

And you feel it, coursing through you in soft waves for them.

That unbiased wavy feeling, almost like you’re floating. That feeling for them. Though you don’t quite know what to call it yet.

“Here,” you mumble and a smile stretches onto your face. “With you, and Satoru too.”

Suguru stops swaying a bit, and at the change in movement Satoru stops too, peering over your shoulder to see what’s happening.

But Suguru only grins a little. “I’m happy too,” he says. Then he glances at Satoru, and Satoru glances to you. “I guess if you two are so happy, then me too.” Satoru chuckles.

[maochira]

Synopsis: For some reason, your brother thinks you and Ohma are dating. And you decide to take this chance to mess with him.

Tags: gn!Raian's older sibling!reader, reader is about Ohma's age, overprotective lil bro!Raian, mentions/descriptions of jealous Karura, lots of chaos, based on this ask I sent to @yellowelectroslime and the reblogs, @aneenasevla asked for this to be a fic and I am here to serve

Your younger brother has been behaving a little odd lately. Sure, he's always been weirdly overprotective over you while insisting on having a harsh rivalry with you at the same time, but his actions in recent times are... new.

The moment you are in a 10-meter radius of Ohma, Raian becomes tense. It always seems like half of his attention is on you and the other half is on Ohma.

No matter how much you think about it, you're never quite able to figure out a reason that makes sense. Your brother's aggressive and often irrational personality doesn't make it much easier. It's nothing you could address directly either because Raian is never honest about his feelings when it comes to something that concerns you. He'd rather find excuses or act as if you didn't say anything at all.

He has never even admitted how overprotective he is over you, no matter how many of the Kure Clan members have teased him about it and pointed it out.

You promised your brother to accompany him on a mission today. But you were so busy training with Ohma, you lost track of time and Raian ended up going without you. It's not like he needs your help anyway. It just would have been nice to spend time together as siblings - like you used to when you were younger.

You find yourself feeling guilty and knocking at your brother's door to apologize.

"You're just a tiny bit too late, you know?" Raian hisses while he opens the door. Even before he saw who knocked, he knew it could only be you. Who else would come to his room voluntarily?

"I'm sorry", you immediately apologize. "I forgot-"

"Yeah yeah I get it you were too busy making out with your boyfriend." Raian rolls his eyes while leaning against the doorframe. "I got the job done so don't worry about that."

The mention of "boyfriend" made your eyes widen a bit. This is the moment you realize why Raian has been acting so odd lately: He thinks you and Ohma are a couple.

Your reaction seems to prove Raian's suspicion - although he couldn't be more wrong. A condescending grin forms on his lips as he begins to speak again. "You really think I didn't notice what's going on between you and Ohma?"

It takes a lot of effort for you to hold back your own grin. "Oh? What do you think is going on between Ohma and me?"

A short huff escapes Raian. "It's so obvious that you're dating. Why didn't you simply tell me about it?" His expression begins to darken. "Don't you trust me?"

"Raian, come on-"

He quickly interrupts you. "Whatever. I figured it out on my own anyway."

Without giving you the chance to respond Raian shuts the door. You stand there for a few more seconds, wondering what to do now.

Every other person would clear up the misunderstanding. But not you. To you, this is the perfect opportunity to mess with your brother.

The next day when you meet up with Ohma to train, you immediately tell him what happened and that he should pretend to be your boyfriend. While Ohma doesn't completely understand why you want him to do that, he sees this as a chance to hopefully get Karura to understand he's not her boyfriend or future husband.

For the next two weeks, you and Ohma have your fun fake-dating and laughing about Raian's reactions in secret. It's hilarious to see your brother getting angry over something that's not even real.

Karura on the other side is extremely jealous of you. She's passive-aggressive whenever she talks to you and sees you as a rival now. Unfortunately for Ohma, she keeps accusing him of cheating on her and tells you to stay away from him. Occasionally you get death threats from her and just to be extra careful you don't accept any food from her - who knows if she poisoned it?

"Maybe it's time to drop our lie." Ohma suggests as you finish today's training. "I don't want Karura to end up hurting you." While he says it with a slight chuckle, you also know he's serious.

"Eh, I'm way stronger than her so that's not an issue. I know she'd never attack me anyway." You respond with a shrug, although you still agree with Ohma's suggestion. "But yes, we should tell them. I think if we keep this up any longer the other clan members are going to think we're a couple as well."

Ohma nods in agreement and leans his back against the wall. "Alright. It was your idea, so you have to be the one to tell Raian the truth."

Simply imagining a scenario like that causes you to groan in frustration. Ohma is right, it was your idea. And also, Raian is your brother. If Ohma told him the truth things would end up a lot worse than you intended when you started messing with Raian.

After leaving the training grounds you spot Raian on your way home, so you decide right now is the best moment to tell him. As long as you're outside, he hopefully won't yell too loud.

"Yo, lil bro!" You call out and walk into your brother's direction.

"Don't call me that." He hisses and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

He's always hated being called your little brother. To him, it sounds as if you were above him. Raian prefers the term "younger brother" because it only points out the age difference. And besides, he's taller than you, because for some reason the youngest siblings are always the tallest.

"Do you have a moment to talk? There's something important I wanna tell you."

Raian raises an eyebrow, slightly intrigued but not wanting to show it too much. "Shoot."

"Ohma and I aren't dating." You reply rather bluntly.

For a few moments, Raian only stares back at you. He's confused and goes through all the things that would prove you and Ohma being a couple.

Since your brother doesn't say anything in response, you decide to continue.

"When you first told me you knew Ohma was my boyfriend, I was confused but thought it'd be fun for us to pretend to mess with you."

The grin on your face is quickly wiped away when Raian suddenly grabs your collar and steps closer to tower over you. "You son of a bitch! Why would you do that?!"

Being called "son of a bitch" by your brother sure is ironic, but right now isn't the moment to point that out. Instead, you begin to smirk again because there's no way you're letting your little brother have the upper hand right now. It was you who messed with him in the first place, and it should be you who gets the last word in this.

"It was funny. Seeing how my little brother gets all overprotective just because he thought I had a boyfriend. And you always pretend to not care that much about me."

"Shut up!" Raian yells right into your face before letting you go. "I am NOT overprotective! I was just... whatever, that's unimportant by now anyways! Thank god you're not actually dating him."

There's so much more you could respond, but Raian sees Ohma walking by and immediately calls his name, then challenges him to a fight.

You being you, you immediately say you'll join as well.

If you liked this, please remember to reblog with fun tags or any type of feedback! It's the best way to support me and my writing!

[rallamajoop]

An absurdly detailed analysis of That One Soldat Photo

Hang around wintersberg fandom long enough, and you'll likely run into a popular crack-theory that, since Heisenberg obviously thinks that building a set of huge, yellow-painted signposts is a good way to point Ethan to the Stronghold, maybe it's Heisenberg who's been leaving all those handy, yellow-painted supply crates all over the place for Ethan to find! It's exactly the kind of fun nonsense I'd enjoy if it didn't feel folks are starting to take it a little too literally (by which I mean I have now read multiple fics in which it's played completely straight ‒ and, like, people do get that it's just a crack theory, right? Like, why would Heisenberg have left so many yellow crates around his own damn factory? Look, you don't have to explain every last game mechanic, not everything is lore!)

But as anyone reading my own fic would know, I'm guilty of echoing the idea that Heisenberg-was-leaving-stuff-for-Ethan myself ‒ just not because of any yellow-striped crates. No, I'm way more interested in this one weird soldat-photo you can find in the village ‒ long hours before you'll ever see your first Soldat in the flesh...

Very creepy. And if you turn it over, you'll find a clue to a puzzle you'll have to solve in order to progress.

(And of course, when you do look out the window, odds are you'll get jump-scared by a lycan just when you're focused on the numbers, because RE8 loves that sort of misdirection ‒ but I digress.)

Anyway, the code you can see out the window will open a safe containing a jack handle you'll need to move a vehicle in the village, as well as the M1911 pistol (which will very likely be your go-to handgun for the rest of the game). The game is full of conveniently-helpful clues like that (heck, most games are), often with no obvious Watsonian justification. And there are other photos around the village ‒ Luiza has a whole photo album ‒ but photos of experiments created by Miranda and her lords don't generally turn up outside their own territory.

For a player exploring the village for the first time, that photo is a lovely little bit of foreshadowing, hinting at monsters and factory stages to come. But on replaying with full knowledge of Heisenberg's later attempts to get Ethan on his side, that Soldat photo is just enough to make you go, huh... did Heisenberg leave that for Ethan? Like, on purpose?

You can find another copy of that photo later, in Heisenberg's factory, along with his notes on his early series Soldat experiments. Which doesn't really prove anything beyond the fact that assets exist to be reused... but it does at least make it pretty canon that Heisenberg has photos of his Soldats sitting around.

Possibly also significant: both the clue photo and the factory documents are tagged 'geekmemo' in the game files. Most everything related to Heisenberg in the files is labeled 'geek'-something ‒ it seems to be an early nickname for his character that lasted well into production. Everything in the factory is geek-something, even the model for the passageway from the altar to the bridge is labeled 'pathtogeek'. Considering that so many soldat-related assets are already labeled 'geek', maybe that 'geekmemo' tag doesn't really tell us anything we don't already know ‒ but it certainly doesn't work against the idea that Heisenberg wrote that 'memo' himself.

Besides, it's not like there isn't precedent for this kind of thing. RE7 had a whole mechanic where you'd have to find 'treasure photos' pointing out the location of a few rare and useful items, all with "I hid something here" written on the back. We're never explicitly told who left those photos lying around, but it's obviously Lucas: he loves playing games, he loves taunting prisoners with the possibility of escape, and who else would it be? The complete population of the Baker mansion is like 6 people and a bunch of semi-sentient mould.

Over in RE8, there are a lot more village resident who might have left that clue lying around. Like it or not though, Heisenberg is very much RE8's equivalent of Lucas: the family's wildcard show-boater who loves making Ethan jump through hoops for his amusement. So how does the game let us know it was Heisenberg who left this particular clue? Well, who else would leave a message on the back of a Soldat photo?

There's may be additional supporting evidence Heisenberg could be involved ‒ most notably the location, being a locked-off cul-de-sac labeled 'Workshop' on signs and maps. The area is full of metal junk very much like you'll later see lying around the factory.

The workshop location does have other relevance ‒ it makes sense that you'd find the jack handle in the village workshop, whether Heisenberg was involved or not. But it also stands to reason that if there's anywhere in the village proper where Heisenberg might hang around and leave clues for Ethan, the workshop is it. And you have to admit that leaving Ethan useful stuff in a safe along with an easy clue that will likely get him jumped by a lycan is 100% more in-character for the guy than just leaving useful stuff out in the open, even if it doesn't really prove anything either.

There's one more weird-little does-this-mean-anything detail: there are three dead crows near the safe too.

It's not the first time in the game you've seen dead crows (there were a bunch outside the village, and I've talked about what that might mean in the context of Miranda's cult before). But I don't remember finding any others around the village itself, other than in this one spot. And instead of being hung from trees like a ritual sacrifice, these ones are just dead ‒ messily, and with blood everywhere.

Now, maybe it doesn't mean anything, but is there anyone in the village more likely to vent his frustrations by violently killing a few of Mother Miranda's avian avatars than Heisenberg? I'd think not.

In conclusion: I still don't think all those yellow crates have anything to do with Heisenberg. And I still don't know for sure whether the RE8 development team wanted me to assume that Heisenberg left Ethan that photo, jack handle and gun. I don't know if we're supposed to read that Heisenberg keeps a workshop in the village and sometimes kills crows out of spite. But the evidence sure does point that way ‒ and it's as valid an interpretation as anything else you might take from this game.

[shy-taylorsversion]

Want You Back | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Inspired by Want You Back by Maisie Peters

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Over a year ago, Y/n started hunting with the boys. Her and Dean's friendship became more than anything she ever had before. Then he hurt her like never before. The worst part was she didn't really care.

Takes place somewhere in season 6 after Sam got his soul back. Flashbacks are during season five.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Cursing (minimal), canon-level violence, few innuendos, and mentions of things. Reader is kinda sad and desperate. Angst. no happy ending :(

A/N: Hi!! After a year of trying to write a complete fic to post, I finally did it. Please excuse any grammar or spelling errors, I relied on Grammarly lol Also I had no idea how to write the action scenes but tried my best. I really don't know if this is worth much but I had so much fun writing sooo I hope you enjoy it!! (gif not mine)

March 2010

  Y/n’s phone buzzed, drawing her attention from the hunter drunkenly blabbering in her ear. They’d just wrapped up a quick hunt, a werewolf somewhere in northern Montana. She didn’t even really know the guy but Bobby had given him her number to ask for help. She agreed, not really having anything more to do. He was fine for a hunter, other than he never shut up and was getting too handsy for her liking, and him being on his fifth drink wasn’t helping. 

She opened the message, not recognizing the number. Bobby had to stop handing it out to whoever.  

           “Hey, Sweetheart. Whatcha up to?”  

The phone fell into her lap. There was only one person she ever let get away with calling her that, or anything really, and he didn’t come around often. 

           “Depends, who is this?”  

    The response was almost immediate. 

          “Don’t do me like that, Y/n”

 She could almost see his stupid grin on the screen and had to look away to control the heat rising in her face. Within five seconds and two texts, Dean Winchester had turned her into a giggling schoolgirl with a crush. 

          “I’m at a bar, what do you want?” 

         “Ah, a girl after my own heart. Which one? I wanna see you.” 

In any other universe, she would have assumed he had ulterior motives. She had the first few times she’d received that text but ended up spending the night hiding her disappointment. He only wanted to see her. He’d meet with her wherever she was. A bar, a motel, a diner.   

They’d spend hours talking about everything. She’d tell him stories of her recent hunts and the hunters she was stuck helping. He’d tell her of whatever they’d been facing. On rare occasions, when it was super late and they were sprawled on her bed, in a half-drunken stupor, he’d tell her about Sam or their dad. He’d mention their childhood and what he was put through. One night, he even mentioned a girl named Cassie, he skirted around details but Y/n understood. 

   They’d fall asleep like that, on top of the covers of a dirty motel bed. The next morning, he’d take her to breakfast, hug her goodbye, and then he was gone. 

     Her phone buzzed in her hand again. 

       “I miss you.” 

Her blood ran cold as she stared at the screen. He’d definitely never said that before. They just never went there and maybe this wasn’t him going there but it was different. Without another thought, she sent him the address. 

Present, April 2011

  “What Dean did wasn’t ok, you know that right?” Sam said through the phone. “He never should’ve left like that. We just really could use your and Bobby’s help on this case.” 

  Y/n sighed in response. What could she even say? That she knew, that she understood. That it still didn’t matter because even through all of the anger and hurt, she’d take him back tomorrow. 

  Not that he’d ever actually been hers. It was only half a spring, barely two months. 

It didn’t matter either way. There was a job to be done and she had to do it. She could put her feelings aside for a few days. 

 “He always left like that, not like I’m surprised.”  

   “Look, I’ve gotta go but please, Y/n, call us if you need anything. We’ll be there soon.“ 

 “Bye, Sam.” 

  The call ended, leaving Y/n leaning against the railing of Bobby’s porch. The early spring wind whipped around her and she hugged her flannel closer, looking out onto the empty road. 

   It had been over a year since she’d seen either of them. She knew of everything that happened to them. Sam going to hell and coming back without a soul. Dean, living a normal life for over a year with a woman and her kid. 

 Y/n didn’t know her, only hearing about the situation from Sam and Bobby in passing. She knew her name was Lisa and that Dean cared for her. Maybe more. She knew that Dean had promised Sam to live a normal life after he jumped into the cage. And she was happy that he got a year of peace. She was. 

   She could picture him helping in the kitchen, wearing an apron with flour smeared across his face. He’d probably set up family movie nights and weekend outings and birthday dinners. He’d been happy and okay. Against all odds, he had gotten out. 

    That didn’t stop the wave of hurt that washed over at the thought of him, all domestic and soft.  

 The click of the door opening pulled her out of her thoughts. Bobby stood there, a knowing look on his face.  

     “C’mon kid, let’s see if we can figure out something before those boys get here.” 

A few hours later, Y/n stared at the book in her lap. She’d been rereading the same paragraph for thirty minutes. Every time she’d get drawn into the book, the house would creak or the wind would blow and she’d be snapped out of it. 

   She kept waiting for the door to open, for footsteps to trail down the foyer and into the living room. She couldn’t even begin to prepare for what the next few days were going to be like. Her only plan was to act as normal as possible, which was already proving to be difficult. 

  A pit formed in her stomach, there was a lump in her throat and her head was clouded. The whole room was hazy and it felt like she was watching herself exist.

    She didn’t even realize she was crying until something wet hit her hands and slid onto her jeans. She quickly wiped her eyes and tried to focus on the book again. The lines blurred together as more tears filled her eyes.  

    God, she was sitting here crying over some guy. She was a grown woman, she had to get over this. It was pathetic at this point. 

   “You know, what Dean did was wrong. Leaving like that, not telling you what happening.” Bobby said, walking into the room, a stack of books in his hands. “I love the kid but he’s a real dick sometimes.”

       He meant well but she swore if one more person said that Dean had done bad, she was going to go crazy. 

    She knew that. More than anyone, she knew. She was the one who spent months hunting with him, helping him and Sam figure out how to save the damn world. They’d spent nights wrapped up in each other, more than ever before. Farther than before.  

  She was the one who woke up to an empty bed with no trace of him anywhere. He never responded to a call or a text. Never even let her know he was alive. 

  He’d left like an assassin. 

   Part of her couldn’t even blame him. It probably had been for the best because if he’d told her what the plan had been, she’d have begged. 

     In the end, he’d got to be a coward and she salvaged some amount of self-respect. 

 “I know, Bobby.” She said, giving him a small smile, “I know.” 

The door creaked causing Y/n to jump, earning her a concerned look from Bobby. 

  She smiled at him again, trying to reassure him. She could tell he’d been worried about her lately. He was justified in it. She’d been on edge and closed off for the last year and a half. 

   She took a deep breath and steadied herself. She’d known these boys for the better part of her life, it wasn’t a big deal. 

     Sam rounded the corner first, entering with a slight grin. His eyes immediately found hers and without warning he pulled her off the couch and into his arms. 

   Y/n let out a surprised laugh as her feet dangled off the ground and the life was squeezed out of her.  

   “I missed you too, Sam.” She said, unable to hold back more laughter, “Put me down now.” 

   Her feet hit the floor and Sam stepped back. She looked him over, still smiling. 

     “I’m so glad you’re back.” 

   “Yeah, me too.” 

A set of footsteps grew louder causing Y/n to look up, only for her to meet two green eyes. 

  The breath was knocked out of her and she was all too aware of the pit in her stomach again. 

Ignoring the pairs of eyes on her, She spun on her heel to face Bobby.   

    “Let’s get started?” 

March 2010 

“I call shotgun!” Y/n yelled as they walked out of the diner and took off towards the Impala.

   She was probably being unfair. She’d barely shared the passenger side in the few weeks she’d been with the boys. Sam was getting huffy about it, she could tell but she enjoyed the view more from the front.  Sitting in the back she’d miss the way Dean’s hands looked gripping the steering wheel, the way his lips moved as he mouthed the lyrics to whatever was on the radio, or the way his eyes would flicker to hers for just a split second. 

 Dean had also finally let her DJ and she didn’t plan on giving that rare privilege away anytime soon.

   “C'mon, dude. It's my turn.” Sam whined, “My legs are starting to cramp.” 

Sam beat her to the car which wasn’t surprising since he was literally the size of one. She was close to giving in when an arm landed on her shoulder. Dean nudged Sam out of the way, ignoring his protests, and opened the door. 

     “Sorry, Sammy.”  Dean’s eyes never left hers as she slid into the seat, “Need my Darlin’ by my side.” 

Present, April 2011

   Cracked wooden planks creaked under Y/n’s feet as she followed the boys and Bobby into the abandoned house. It was pitch black. She blinked her eyes, trying to adapt to the lack of lighting.  

According to Sam, a nest of vamps had been holed up there for weeks. They’d started leaving a trail of bodies, teens who’d come through as a dare or curiosity. She didn’t know the exact numbers racked up in that time but it was enough for Sam and Dean to ask for help. 

   Dean motioned for them to split up, two taking the downstairs and two going up. She went to follow behind Sam who had taken off into the next room but Bobby beat her to it. She would’ve fought back but it wasn’t exactly like she could cause a scene right then. 

   She followed Dean up the stairs, cringing every time the stairs groaned underneath their feet. 

Dean slowed as he hit the final step before a long, dark hallway. Y/n was a step behind him. His body nearly covered her. She shifted to the side to peer around him. 

  Both raised their machetes, trying to keep their breathing quiet as they waited for any sign of movement.

    A crash came from down the hall. Dean started towards the sound, Y/n following close behind. The complete darkness put them on edge. Being minus one sense in a house of at least ten fanged bastards, not fun. 

      The floorboard creaked behind her causing her to flip around, just in time to dodge the first vampire of the night. 

       She swung her machete, hitting its arm. Distracted, she brought down the weapon. Its head hit the floor. 

        Dean yelled out from behind her. She flung herself around to hear him fighting off, what she guessed was three on his own. Her presence seemed to catch the attention of one of them because it charged at her. 

   She dodged, the vamp lunged again grabbing her by the arm. She twisted out of its grasp. Using the angle to her advantage, she swiped her leg around, knocking it off balance. Its head rolled away as its body hit the ground. 

     She wiped the sweat from her forehead and turned to try to find Dean. She still couldn’t see him but she could hear him panting a few feet away.

She was yanked forward. Hands gripped her forearms tight enough to leave bruises and slammed into the wall. Her head buzzed on impact and she forced herself to stay upright. Its fangs grazed her neck and then its head dropped to the floor. 

   Dean stood in front of her, so close she could feel him breathing, rather than hearing it. Without thinking, she reached out to him and landed on his arm. She went to pull away but his other hand grasped her wrist, holding her in place. 

“Thanks.” She breathed, “You good?” 

“Yeah, You?” 

She wished she could see him, make sure he was being truthful. He didn’t exactly have the best track record with honesty. But in the dark, she had no choice but to trust him. 

    “I’m fine.” There were definitely bruises forming in her arms and her head was still spinning but she’d had worse.  

   Dean’s hand dropped her wrist. She ignored the deflated feeling in her chest and dropped her arm back to her side. 

  Without warning, he ran his hands over her arms and up her shoulders. She tried to pull away but he didn’t stop. 

    “What are you doing?” She whisper-yelled. 

“I literally heard you hit the wall, Y/n,” He said, running his hands over her head, checking for any bumps. 

“I am fine.”  She tried to swat him away but he grabbed her wrists mid-air and pulled them to his chest.  

    The air was humid around them. She heard him panting. Leather and sweat invaded her senses. Any focus she had before vanished. 

He was here, touching her, after so long. 

  Silence enveloped them. The only noise was their panting. 

 This was wrong. Sam and Bobby were probably fighting for their life downstairs and here they were, doing whatever this was.

  She was about to pull away when a loud yell came from downstairs. 

   The moment was broken. They took off down the hallway and stairs. Staying close to not get lost in the dark. 

  They hit the last few steps as a vampire, charged at them. 

 Dean swung his machete and it fell to the floor.  

 They moved further into the first floor of the home, finding Sam and Bobby fighting off at least four vamps each.  

   They split up, him going to Bobby and her going to Sam.  

     None of the vampires were aware of her yet. She grabbed the syringe of deadman’s blood out of her pocket and plunged the needle into the closet to her. 

  Now they knew she was there.

 Two turned towards her giving Sam time to take down his remaining one. 

   Both charged at her, hissing. She ran in between them.She flipped around, slicing the blade in an arc. The one on her left doubled over at the impact. 

    She swung. 

The right one lunged at her. She pivoted and cut the blade up. 

Its head hit the floor. 

She looked around the room, a slight beam of moonlight flooded the house now. She made out Sam helping Bobby up from the floor, right as Dean took down the last vampire. 

   The room was silent other than everyone trying to catch their breath.  

Dean’s eyes found hers. She forced herself to look away. Sam interrupted the non-moment. 

“Time for drinks?” 

Y/n and the boys decided to go out. They were leaving soon but everyone needed time to wash off and get ready. 

   She dragged the black liner across her eyelid, double-checking to see if it smeared the shimmery brown eyeshadow she’d already put on. The cracks in the old mirror made it kind of hard to perfect the make-up but it would have to do.  She already changed from her bloodied hunting clothes into a clean pair of jeans with a simple tank top. She didn’t own much and traveled with less. 

“Broke mirrors are bad luck, ya know?”  

  Dean leaned against the doorframe, flannel pulled taut around his crossed arms. 

She ignored the pit that had reappeared in her stomach and continued applying her lipstick. She flipped through ideas for a response. She could yell at him to get out or cry about how much he hurt her. Instead, she opted to act like nothing was wrong. 

   “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who broke it.”  She said, shoveling her makeup back into the bag, still never meeting his eye. She stood and gathered the rest of her stuff into a neat pile on her bed. Her back was completely towards him. 

    She heard him walk into the room and the door clicked shut. 

“Y/n, look at me.”  

She turned around and looked up at him. Her eyebrows raised like he was boring her. In reality, she was struggling to breathe. Her hands shook and a lump was stuck in her throat.  

 Her eyes glanced over his face. His jaw was set but eyes were soft.  She knew where this was going. 

  Dean took a deep breath before starting.  

“Look, what I did-” 

“Do not finish that sentence, Dean Winchester.” She spat. 

“I just-”

“No. You don’t get to say anything. You don’t get to say that what you did was wrong or how sorry you are. You don’t think I don’t know that what you did was wrong? Everyone keeps telling me that. Bobby, Sam and now you. They kept telling me how horrible of you that was like it wasn’t me. Like I wasn’t the one who spent months with you, like I didn't help you figure out how to stop the fucking apocalypse. Like I didn’t stitch you up after every hunt or spend every car ride next to you. Like I wasn’t the one who would hold you after you woke up screaming or it wasn’t me who spent every single night in your fucking sheets.” 

 Every ounce of refrain she’d worked to keep was gone. Hot tears were streaming down her face as her eyes bored into his. He didn’t try to interrupt her but his jaw twitched and body tensed. 

  “Like it wasn’t me who woke up two months later to an empty bed. You were gone, Dean. You left without a word. No text, no note. Nothing. You fucking left me. And then I found out you were with some other girl for a year? So yeah, I know that what you did was bad.” 

Somewhere in her speech, she’d moved close enough for their chest to touch. Her finger was stabbing into his chest.  He didn’t move, was barely breathing but she wasn’t finished. 

   “Maybe it was cheap to you, or maybe it was some fling to pass the time but it was real to me. It was all I had. You were all I had.” Her voice broke at the last word and she dropped her hand. Her head fell as she cried. Over a year of built-up heartbreak exploding in one moment was too much. 

     His hand found hers and placed it back on his chest. She looked back up at him, his other hand reaching out to cup her cheek. She closed her eyes as his thumb wiped away the remaining tears. 

    “Do you want to know what the worst part is?” She whispered, eyes still shut. “I’d be yours again if you wanted. If you asked. How pathetic is that?” 

      “Y/n.” 

She opened her eyes to look at him despite her embarrassment.  

  “You are anything but cheap or pathetic.” His voice was thick and his eyes were glassy. She’d seen him in so many different states but she’d never seen so much emotion written across his face. 

   “Ask me then. Ask me to come with you.” 

His expression darkened and he dropped his hand from her face. He took a step back and looked away. 

   “It’s not that easy.” He said, shaking his head. “It's never that easy.” 

She let out a bitter laugh. 

 She wasn’t even surprised. She should’ve been disappointed or furious but she was just over it. She was tired and desperate. And if she couldn’t have him, he needed to go. 

  She wiped a hand down her face and glanced back into the mirror assessing the damage her outburst caused. She started wiping off the messed-up liner before starting to reapply. Dean stood behind her, brows furrowed in confusion. 

    “Get out.” She said without hesitation, her voice as steady as possible.  

He opened his mouth as if to speak but shut it. He walked towards the door but stopped with his hand on the doorknob. 

   “For what it's worth, I am sorry.” 

The buzz of conversation filled the packed-out bar. Sam found them a small booth in the corner and was now talking about a new piece of lore he’d found about some Egyptian god. Most of the time, she loved hearing what he had to say but right now all she could focus on was Dean's hand trailing up and down the woman’s hip. He never even sat down with them, finding himself a spot at the bar, next to a pretty blonde. She’d watched for half an hour now as he grinned at the girl, whispered in her ear, and bought her a drink. 

  She wanted to puke or cry or both. She decided to get drunk instead. 

She went to take a sip of her beer only to realize it was empty. Motioning to Sam she was going to get another, she slid out of the booth and made her way to the opposite side of the bar from Dean. 

   She planned to order a shot of some vodka and another beer but she couldn’t catch the attention of either bartender.

  A body bumped up against hers causing her to stumble. A hand wrapped around her waist to catch her. She almost jerked away but she looked up to find a familiarly unfamiliar pair of dark green eyes and dark blonde hair.  

   The man was by far the prettiest she’d seen all night. 

 “I am so sorry, It's packed in here. Isn’t it?  Nowhere to stand.” He had a slight southern drawl and a boyish charm about him. 

 “It is. Can’t seem to even order a drink.”  She smiled at him.

 “You see, now that had to be fate or something because I was just wantin’ to buy you one.” He grinned and waited, almost seeing if she’d allow it. His hand was still on her but she found she didn’t really mind. 

 The room was fuzzy and she could only make out the man in front of her. Even then, he was a little hazy and she had no idea what he was saying, only that his mouth looked pretty as he said it.    

  Y/n didn’t know how long it’d been since the handsome stranger volunteered to feed into her night of drunkenness or even how many she’d had so far. She vaguely remembered him buying her the first shot and then the second and maybe a third. They made small talk, she gave some bullshit story about what she did for work and where she was from. Somewhere in between she had a fourth, fifth, and sixth one. 

 And somewhere between the seventh and now, she’d lost track of Dean. She didn’t even know if he was still there. She did know that the new guy made her feel ok, at least for now. His hands never left her and the drinks never seemed to end.

  She could barely remember the events of the day. Maybe by tomorrow, she wouldn’t remember any of it, or at least a girl could hope.

But right now, she didn’t feel like crying or throwing up as long as she didn’t think of it. 

   She decided in her drunken haze that maybe this was what she needed. So when the stranger asked her if she wanted to leave, she agreed. And when he leaned down to kiss her, she let him.

[mustainegf]

Hi could you do something where black album era James and a fem reader go to a party but they grow needy so they go to the bathroom

I love this stuff and it was so fun to write, I also have a fic really similar to this one so I’ll link it here :)

The party bustled loudly, and despite the noise, my brain was buzzing with a tension of its own. My boyfriend James, stood across the room with a friend of his, paying me a flirty glance every so often, followed by him adjusting the bulge in his jeans.

Every time he tried to hide his horniness, the flutter between my thighs inscreased.

There was a silent understanding between us. I knew he was horny, and he knew just as well that I was too.

I could see it in his eyes-the way he was looking at me.

The lust. It was simmering right under the surface, waiting for an excuse to explode. And that was exactly what we both wanted.

I glanced at the handsome man, quirking my head to motion to the bathroom.

He gave me a wink, and then nodded. I smiled and sat up from the couch, quickly moving to the bathroom, swaying my hips to tease him.

I snuck into the washroom. James wasn't far behind me, glancing around to make sure nobody noticed before slipping into the small space with me.

He pushed the door shut with a little more force than necessary, making it clear he had been longing for this moment all night.

Ache flicked the lock, sealing us in here together.

"Jesus Christ, you look sexy," James muttered before crashing his lips onto mine.

My back hit the door as our kiss turned desperate, but neither one of us cared. We didn't care about anyone or anything except each other, and that made everything else feel so damn good.

James pulled away, breaking the kiss with a soft groan. "Fuck, I can't wait much longer." His hands trailed down my stomach, coming to rest on my ass.

It wasn't long before we were violently stripping each other down.

James grabbed me with abandon, Liston game and sitting me up on the small sink counter.

Our eyes met again, this time a silent promise passed between us. This is it. No turning back.

We both knew this. Our lips crashed against each other once more, tongues tangling together. One hand gripped my waist while the other trailed up my side, until it found my breast.

Then he kneaded it gently, squeezing it lightly. My breath caught in my throat as he toyed with my nipple with his thumb and index finger. His touch was rougher than usual, but that only spiked my desire for him.

I ran my nails down his chest, loving the scratch of his hair against my palms. As soon as I touched his cock, I felt him twitch. He moaned softly.

I loved how responsive he was to me. I couldn't help but take advantage of it.

I stroked him up and down, not caring that I was sitting up on a random small sink. All I cared about was how good this man made me feel.

"I can't take it, I need to be in you."

He looked like he was going to tear apart if I didn't let him inside me. I was so close myself. The urge to have him was too strong to ignore any longer.

"Then do something about it," I taunted.

"You want this, don't you?" he growled, pulling his cock out of my hand. I nodded. "Yes." He slid in slowly, filling me completely. I leaned back, enjoying the feeling of fullness.

"Jamie!" I yelled, grabbing his shoulders. James was quick to press a finger to my lips. "Gotta be quiet, can you do that for me?"

I nodded. "Yes." He pounded into me hard and fast, making my legs tremble. The hard smack of our bodies filled the tiny space, but it did nothing to cover the moans and grunts we both let loose.

"Tell me how much you love it, use your words, I wanna hear that pretty voice," he demanded, the room filling with wet and obscene sounds.

I could hardly force out any sort of sentence. "L-love it." I huffed. "Come on, you can do better than that."

James sucked a breath through his teeth as J tightened around him. "Let me hear you." He demanded again.

"I love it... Jamie... I love it." He slammed into me harder and faster, using the counter and my hips to hold himself up.

I screamed, holding on for dear life. In response, he pressed his lips to mine and started humming, moving his body in tune with the sound. I was drowning in sensations, so many of them, Ilost control.

I clawed at his arms, trying desperately to get closer to him. He moved his lips from mine and whispered, "That's it, babyy."

He continued to whisper filthy things in my ear, telling me how good I was, how I felt so damn good wrapped around him. The wet sounds of sex echoed through the small space, creating a cacophony of noises.

I could barely think straight. The haze of pleasure was growing stronger by the second.

"Cum for me baby, I'm so close.." James groaned in my ear.

Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him close as he pumped a few more times Until we were both writhing with our climax. I felt him shoot his cum deep into me, painting my insides.

We sat in silence for a minute or two, just breathing. Ilaughed softly, kissing James' cheek.

"Fuck, I can't believe we did that.."

[cboffshore]

what you say about Jay's condition in the skybound fics is actually very true. 90% of the fandom portrays him as falling at the slightest degree of pain, bursting into tears and begging when in canon Jay NEVER cries or begs in all his torture with Nadakhan. All he does at most is complain silently, and continue talking shit about everyone

we actually need more fics of Jay being a little shit that fights dirty, cheats, and deals damage using the meanest ways to defend himself and attack even when he's getting his ass kicked. I just feel like a lot of fics don't really embody the fact that Jay didn't sit back and let them torture him while he cried, but he actually fought back, he actually continued to be stubborn to the point that nothing Nadakhan did worked.

You're so right and you should absolutely say it. I am not the biggest Jay enjoyer (don't get me wrong, I like him, but I'm not winning the Jay Fan contest any day soon), but I particularly enjoy his arc in Skybound and how that persistence plays into it. Seeing it get put to the side in favor of whatever all these crying sessions are trying to do honestly makes me wonder - do people who write this flavor of sadboy Jay actually enjoy/appreciate Skybound to the same degree that inspires so many of us to write about it, or are they just there for the angst openings? Which does Jay such a huge disservice. I'm still in awe whenever Jay gets that Target ball sized ball and chain slammed into his chest and still gets back up. This is the guy everyone's relegating to weep in a corner? He's throwing stray insults at every opening and then some and the popular fanon consensus is, "yeah, he's completely broken, send him to the pit"??

Now, don't get me wrong, the occasional show of vulnerability is great. Key word there is occasional. To be fair, I would likely be just as unsettled as I am by the sobfest trend if Jay just did Bugs Bunny shenanigans the entire time without ever cracking. It's about balance! Show that development off! Have him get tougher over time! A strategically placed breakdown or slip-of-the-tongue beg can work so well, it's just got to be handled carefully. (Tried it with Nya once in my own Skybound fics, and can confirm: watch where and when it happens and you can say a lot about whoever does it. Granted, I have never tried it with Jay, but same principle!) Sure, let him do it - but not for the sake of doing it. What would Jay think after the fact? How would the crew's reactions affect him? (Fun idea: would he weaponize it, like the back pain scene where he's literally grinning the whole time? Would he deliberately turn on the waterworks often enough that if it ever happens for real, nobody tries to take advantage of it?)

I didn't mean to go on for that long, but yeah! It's a frustrating topic, and I really wish I knew where it came from. Thanks for dropping in and letting me ramble!

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

i wana fuck gob

So, the best AND simultaneously worst thing about coming up with headcanons and fics for characters from Fallout 3 is that there's often so little to the characters, canonically. Most of them have pretty scant backstories and characterization. That can be both an opportunity to mold a character to what you'd like them to be and a way to end up with a very contested character no one agrees on anything about.

Don't get me wrong; I like Fallout 3 quite a bit, but in the same way I like Fallout 4, which is "wow this game has some really loveable/memorable/fuckable characters and you can make your own fun, which I don't mind". However, Fallout 4's characters overall have stronger characterization, in my opinion, so it seems like the fan base has a fairly generalized sense of what each character is like. That doesn't seem to be the case with 3, at least sometimes.

***All that to say: if I make any claims about characters you like from Fallout 3 that you disagree with, 1. sorry, and 2. I would love to discuss.

Gob (Fallout 3) NSFW Headcanons

Boundary communication would be HUGE with Gob, but especially for Gob. For decades, he hasn't been allowed to stand up for himself, to even have boundaries, so a long, long chat about consent would be due before the two of you ever did anything. You'll have to make it clear to him that if he doesn't like something, you don't want to do it, so he needs to say something, and that you won't be mad at him for not enjoying something.

This man is SO quiet during sex that it's initially quite unsettling to you. Even when he cums, he's completely silent. He's so used to having to be ridiculously quiet all the time (or else), but especially at a time like this. You may feel the need to take a step or two back in terms of your intimacy until he feels more able to relax, because it would be difficult for you to gauge whether he was enjoying something or not with full confidence. At least, not without constantly having to ask him, which can be a bit of a mood killer if you're not sure the person you're doing things with is enjoying themselves or just going along with it for your sake. No one wants to feel like they're imposing themselves on their partner, and Gob is, as a result of what he's been though, absolutely the type to just lie there and let you have what you want so he doesn't upset you. He insists that he's enjoying himself, that he likes the way you touch him, but you'll have to explain that you need some sort of feedback when you're touching him to ensure you're not hurting him or crossing some boundary. Once he relaxes, he can be quite vocal, but still quiet; mostly hums and sighs.

I think he also struggles to maintain eye contact with literally anyone, and this doesn't improve when he's nervous or being sexually stimulated. He already feels so exposed with you touching him, even if he's still mostly or fully clothed, that eye contact feels like too much a lot of the time. Once you two have been together a while and you've been physical a few times, he may be able to relax enough to look at you when you ask him to (he gets the cutest look on his face when he cums), but his gaze will continue to wander otherwise.

I think you'd be wise to keep things fairly formulaic early on with Gob. Whatever the two of you enjoy, find your rhythm and stay with it for a while; no need to start experimenting or introducing the poor thing to a bunch of new kinks and positions and things he's never experienced while he's over here still trying to relax enough to let you jerk him off without him crying afterwards.

Would agree to try mommy kink stuff with you and then be beyond embarrassed by how much he likes it. Absolutely loves to be babied and treated softly while you take care of him.

Once he's really comfortable with you, and once he's begun to really feel like he has autonomy and safety in his life, he shyly starts to make requests, wants to try things that he's thought about doing with you since the moment he laid eyes on you. Of course, he's nervous, but he's gotten good at communicating his wants and needs at this point. He wants to fuck you on the bar when the place is closed. He wants to cum on your face. He wants you to peg him. He REALLY wants you to peg him.

Lots of early morning sex. He likes to lay in bed and cuddle for a little while before he gets up to open the bar, and, more often than not, that leads to him feeling all warm and appreciative of you, which usually leads to him pulling you on top of him so you can guide his cock inside you, grinding and rolling your hips lazily until you both cum.

Tit man. Not good at hiding the fact that he's oogling your chest from the minute you meet, sort of like a teenage boy, but once he's comfortable with you and it's been established that he's attracted to you, he doesn't really try to hide it.

[halfmoth-halfman]

Leaving this blog.

With my mini-series finishing up soon, I've decided to leave this blog as well as my AO3 account once it’s finished. This is not a decision I've made lightly, but circumstances have left this a place where I no longer feel safe.

As of now, I won't be deactivating this blog and will be leaving my fics up for anyone who'd still like to read them. I can't say this decision won't change later, but right now I feel that I've put too much work into this blog to simple delete it.

Below the cut is an explanation of why I'm making this decision, and what has been happening on this blog since the end of last year. It's not required to read or anything to understand the gist of this post; it's simply for my own peace of mind knowing that I spoke up about it. There will be topics that are possibly triggering such as harassment, threats, and racism so please mind the warnings and tags.

The mini-series is queued to finish next week, but there will be no more fic polls or wip wednesdays. I'll still be on here to make sure the queue does its job, and maybe post some stuff from my old drafts as a last bit of fun.

I'll have dms tentatively open for the next two-ish weeks for those who'd like to follow my new account, however I will not be answering anything from empty blogs. After that, asks and dms will be turned off, and I won't be coming back to this blog very often, if at all.

I cannot say thank you enough to the wonderful readers I've had and the amazing people I've met. I don't think I would've ever continued writing without your support and friendship. There's nothing I can do to show my appreciation for all of you.

Maybe we'll see each other again. If not, I hope your inspiration is always flowing, and 2024 treats you kindly.

Mothie 💜

Again, TW: rape/death threats, violent racism, repeated harassment, and mental health.

Back in November, I started getting rude, mean-spirited anons. It wasn't anything I was too bothered with because it didn't happen often and, honestly, my inbox gets flooded for a week or so anytime I post about certain topics. I blocked, deleted, reported and moved on thinking whoever it was would get bored and leave.

However, what started as a few rude anons calling me a bitch or stupid turned into a lot of anons being vile and racist which only worsened over the next few months.

I spoke about it in this post (link) near the end of November. In that post, I mentioned that those were the nicer asks and that was not an exaggeration. I have gotten my fair share of shitty anons as seen here (link) when I had to take a break from my blog because of said anons, but I have never gotten the amount of vitriol that I saw in these asks.

When I turned anon off, I started getting even worse messages from empty blogs that would either be blocked or deactivate within a week. When I turned my askbox off, I started getting hateful DMs. When I turned DMs off, it jumped from Tumblr to my other social medias which I had to private, completely avoid, or outright delete.

I got messages attacking my writing, calling me slurs, threatening to find me and rape or kill me, sending me explicit porn and rape videos while insulting my sexuality, and going into gross detail about how much people I interacted with hated me or how I would never be as good as them. I tried to power through it, pretending everything was fine while I pulled away from this blog, from writing, from friends that I loved and talked to every day. Everything about this blog, the fandoms I enjoyed, the people I talked to, made me so anxious because of these constant messages.

I took several breaks while dealing with this in therapy, repeatedly trying to come back and get comfortable on this blog, but within a few days of coming back the messages would start up again, either here or on any of my social medias I tried to unprivate, and I couldn't deal with it.

Only in the last week or two has it started to slow down and stop on a few of my other socials, which is the only reason I even feel comfortable making this post. However, in regards to this blog and my feelings toward it, the damage is done.

I don't think I can ever truly convey how isolating this has been. So many of these messages were about how I've spoken about my struggles as a black woman in fandom, how much of a burden it puts on the people who interact with me, how inferior I am to them and that I am everything that's wrong with fandom.

I felt scared and anxious to talk to anyone about this, especially people mentioned in those messages, out of fear that this harassment would jump to them. There are friendships that I stepped away from that I will never get back because of that. There are friends that I've felt like I was betraying by never telling them about what was happening because I felt too ashamed about letting this get to me.

I constantly worried that making a post like this would feel like, "Oh, Mothie's whining and trauma-dumping into the void about fandom racism again", that those messages would be right and it would force people to feel like they had to support me. Or worse, that people would agree and it would only make things worse. I've wrestled with so much guilt trying to decide to make this post and figure out what to do to make me trust myself again.

Ultimately, I don't think I was wrong for talking about my issues in fandom, and I don't think anything I've said has warranted this kind of harassment. I don’t know the who’s or why’s behind of this, but I've come to terms with the fact that I'll never really know. Truthfully, I'm not sure it even matters at this point. In the end, I think moving on from this blog entirely would be the best thing for me right now.

But, man, does it fucking suck.

This was the blog where I felt comfortable enough to start writing again, to start posting my fics. It's the blog where I met so many friends, got the courage to join new communities, found new hobbies, new music, new things to enjoy in life. It feels silly to say about a blog, but this was a place where I felt like I was able to carve out a space for myself. I put so much work into making it my own, and now the only thing I feel about it is anxious.

Hate messages and threats and racism have always been a part of fandom, and the internet as a whole. I’ve known since I started participating in fandom spaces that it was going to and continue to happen. I've known that I had to have a tough skin, especially if I ever spoke up about problems I faced because no one was going to have my back if I didn't have my own. I thought I had learned how to deal with it, and how to make a safe space for myself. But this goes beyond that. I did not deserve this. No one deserves this.

In some ways, it feels like admitting defeat, like I'm weak or hypocritical for not being as strong as I pretended I was and leaving. In other ways, it feels freeing to start over, and I'm choosing to view look at this optimistically even if it bittersweet. I don't want to let this scare me away from writing or from speaking about things that are important to me. All I can do now is say I'm so incredibly sorry to those I've hurt by stepping away or keeping this secret, and make sure I'm able to at least leave this blog on as happy a note as I can have.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

I love no words! Love the twist! Would you mind writing a follow up where the reader meets the daggers, and Jake has to explain how he has a soulmate without having a soulmate tattoo? Takes rooster and fanboy little extra time to understand.

Thank you so much anon!!! No Words is absolutely one of my favorite things I have ever written and it brings me such joy anytime someone new discovers it! 🥰💞

I'm not sure if you just read the fic or the Extended Version but I did go into a bit of what happens afterwards with Jake and Reader in a series of reblogs.

I'm sort of on a writing hiatus at the moment, but I did come up with some HCs for your request because I do really like it and it inspired me. I hope you like them:

Jake still can't fully believe he has found his soulmate after so many years without hope so it takes him some time before he's ready to introduce you to the Daggers (you understand and allow him to take as much time as he needs). However, they all notice something has changed and that Jake will disappear more and more often, to the point he is almost never at The Hard Deck anymore. But whatever is going on, he seems happy so they don't push it.

When Jake finally feels ready to introduce you, he makes a big deal about it. Penny was the only one at the bar the night you two met who knew Jake, so she's been in on the secret the whole time and helps him plan a special beach barbeque for the big announcement.

Jake told you to get there a little later so he could share the news with everyone first. When he tells everyone he finally found his soulmate, he is met with mixed reactions: Payback, Fanboy, and Phoenix seem completely supportive and happy for him, Coyote congratulates him but Jake can tell he is a little unsure about things (Coyote has known Jake the longest and knows how much this not having a soulmate thing has hurt Jake in the past so he's happy but also doesn't want to see his friend get crushed if he is wrong), but Rooster and Bob just share an uneasy look and hang back. When Jake confronts them, Bob tries to brush it off and says he's happy for him, but Rooster doesn't pull any punches. He knows that Jake has been getting more depressed and hopeless about his lack of soulmate tattoo lately and he thinks Jake is just fooling himself because he wants it so badly. Rooster tells Jake he needs to face the fact that he doesn't have a tattoo because he doesn't have a soulmate and this charade is just going to destroy him once he comes to his senses.

Before Jake can respond, you arrive and immediately link arms with Jake as you plant a big kiss on his mouth. You point to Bob and Rooster questioningly, and Jake has the biggest shit-eating grin as he drapes his arm over your shoulder and introduces them. He then tells them your name, and you pull out a marker and scribble something onto Jake's arm. When you hold it out to show them--flashing them your own soulmate tattoo in the process (a familiar phrase they've heard Jake use before) --and they read "I'm Jake's soulmate". You sign something to Jake and as he struggles to figure it out (but gets there eventually due to the online classes he's been taking), all the pieces click and Rooster and Bob sheepishly shake your hand. Rooster then pulls Jake aside and apologizes for what he said, but Jake just shrugs it off because he knows Rooster was just trying to have his back. Rooster is amazed by that reaction, but as Jake turns back to you, Rooster can see how Jake has already become a better man in the short time he has known you.

The rest of the barbeque is a lot of fun and you get along great with everyone (Phoenix even reveals to you that she can sign but you both decide to keep that from Jake for now which Phoenix will use against him later). Jake rarely leaves your side and when he does, he can't take his eyes off of you. All the Daggers recognize that indescribable pull between two people and any last lingering doubts that the two of you aren't soulmates fade away.

[kaerichan-yatta]

Prohibite no longer.

(Alastor & Rosie)

Summary: Not only he teases, not only he constantly smiles, not only he hates technology, not only he loves his mother. Oh no, he has much bigger reactions, when he's in the specific mood... A/N: first Hazbin Hotel fic!! Don't hate, just correct in case<3 Enjoy!

"My, God must've had a ton of fun in making you so sensitive, darling..."

Gosh, how much he was feeling stupid. The Radio Demon himself, Alastor, one of the most powerful and dangerous beings in hell...now reduced to a fit of giggles and, surprising his friend as well, with a good layer blush on his cheeks.

"D-Don't say thahahat...it's even more e-embarassing..."

"Oh! Embarassing...why dear, you look like you're enjoying yourself quite a bit, no?"

Well, in a way or another, deep inside, he was.

"Rohohosie..."

"There you go! It's always music to my ears to hear you giggle!"

The deer demon scrunched up his nose and his usual grin extended to his, well...where human ears would be. Rosie beamed, keeping her playful assault. Her nails skittered along his ribs, up and down his sides, eventually reaching his upper ribs close to his armpits. And that was the absolute worst for him, but being honest-

"Just remember you asked for it, dear..."

Exactly. Alastor had been in a mood for way too long, and of course the way he had decided to write down his own destiny was by taking off his coat and sitting on the sofa beside Rosie with the arm on the headrest, leaving his torso unprotected.

"I- gah! I knohohow..."

"Oh? Would it tickle you more if I were to pinch here? Or give it a small squeeze there? Ah, who am I kidding...of course it does!"

Alastor's body gently squirmed side to side. Rosie's touch being so delicate, her tickling feeling so soft and slow, not to mention the teasing...if that would've driven someone up the wall, he was already at the ceiling this time.

It was actually pretty frequent for them to have this kind of activity. Basically Alastor being bratty enough to doom himself for the following minutes...or hours, sometimes. Soon finding himself on his back, laying horizontally on the sofa, his torso staying right in Rosie's lap where she could easily reach, where her fingers and nails could go down town on his most sensitive spots.

But obviously, just with Rosie.

And when her fingers found a small opening through his shirt, where they reached his skin, he was done for.

"Gh-! R-Rohohosie! You- hahaha! You know i-it's so bahahahad here!"

Rosie knew he wasn't the type who giggled often, but that cackle he just let out was enough to statisfy and encourage her even more.

"Oh, I do know, Alastor, and I-" she stopped mid-sentence as she noticed his little deer tail wagging happily, as well as his legs kicking a bit, and she smiled even more, softly yet teasingly.

"And I don't plan on leaving your tummy untouched, especially after noticing the cutest details about your reactions..."

Alastor mentally cursed himself and his deer-like behavior that showed up whenever he had his stomach tickled. But well...if that was making Rosie happy, in a way...maybe asking for it hadn't been that much of a bad idea.

"I really don't see the point of prohibiting the others to tickle you silly, dear...you're basically hiding such endearing reactions to your beloved ones..."

She let a giggle escape, which went completely unheard since she had moved her fingers to the side of his stomach, making his laughter raise even more.

"Y-You knohohow how to be geheheHEHEntle!..."

Rosie blinked twice, that soft smile still stuck on her lips.

"Gentle? From my point of view, it doesn't seem like this is gentle at all...or could it be that you're too sensitive and ticklish around your little tummy?"

Bingo. Alastor threw his head back on the sofa, bright laughter coming from him, his knees bending in an attempt to curl up as Rosie's fingers sped up the tickly torment.

"Come now Alastor, dear..."

"M-Mahahaybe!"

"Maybe what, mhh?"

"M-Maybe I AHAHAHAM!"

Now these were cackles: Rosie knew he was close to his breaking point.

"Maybe you're what? I don't remember...would you be so kind to refresh my memory?"

And here Alastor thought she was so gentle...but the exact moment he formed his answer, Rosie's fingernails found the back of his ribs on his left side, and a radio static-like screech came from him.

"Oh stars! So this is the spot indeed?"

The deer overlord started squirming around more, desperately trying to curl up, but soon giving up in doing so as he noticed it was only encouraging the cannibal overlord to dig deeper in the ticklish spot.

His hands went up to cover his flushed face, eventually muffling his cackles and squeals, which led Rosie to sneak a finger under his armpit for a quick scribble, making the smiling laughing demon suddenly arch his body to the side, squealing again, lowering his arm.

"Uh-uh, don't hide that smile! By the way, you're always smiling...what's the sudden need of hiding it? Hmm? Could it be I'm tickle, tickle, tickling you a bit too much?"

"Y-YES! Y-Yes it's- AHAHAH! St-stohohop!"

Rosie held in the urge to just chuckle upon hearing all that radio static in his voice, between his laughter, almost close to wheezing, his head was now shaking and his ears were adorably folded back flat in his hair.

"Alright, dear..I feel like your little itch has been scratched enough, am I right?"

Her tickling came to and end, slowly so that he could catch his breath back better, her hand resting on his stomach now.

Alastor nodded his head, quickly recovering, his usual smile now back on his face, though it certainly looked more happy now.

"Consider yourself quite lucky, darling..." he said, regaining his composure back and sitting up on the sofa, at her side "you're the only one allowed to do this, so far, as I told you the other times as well"

Rosie softened her expression, though a question couldn't help but come to her mind.

"But why might that be, I wonder?"

Alastor fixed his monocle, sighing a little.

"Others tend to...let's say, overboard" he confessed.

Rosie frowned a bit. Well, being honest, she could understand. Some people he stayed with at the hotel could get a bit...energetic, sometimes. Especially a certain spider, or a princess. But her frown got quickly replaced by a relaxed expression, as a silly tease popped into her head.

"Well..." she said "you could always stabilish boundaries"

Alastor thought for a moment. He could, for when he'll be feeling in a mood again.

"Doesn't sound too bad, honestly..."

"So that means you actually enjoyed our little playful time earlier?" Rosie giggled, hearing his breath get disturbed by radio static once again.

He shook his head slowly, chuckling at her phrase.

"Well, you got me there. Quite a good one, darling"

Maybe, he was really going to give up his thing of prohibiting the others to tickle him in the future. Maybe...asking for it really hadn't been a bad idea at all.

[calimelontea]

the octotrio with an inkling!reader

❥❥am I splicing my current hyperfixation into a completely unrelated fandom bc the fresh season just recently dropped?? Yes. Is it going to be kinda awkward bc this is my very first fic on this page??? Also yes 👍But man is it gonna be fun to write, so I hope you guys will have just as much fun reading!

❥ the reader falls into this twisted wonderland unannounced and unprepared, but much to the student body's surprise, this new transfer student was... A squid? A kid?? It was anyone's guess, but for now it was decided that you would reside in Octainvinelle, seeing as you were a cephalopod of some sort. How do you fair in the ranks of the fish mafia?

Category- Fluff ☀

Content- semi platonic, Azul Jade and Floyd, you are an inkling from Splatoon

Azul Ashengrotto

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➼When you had first arrived at the dorm's doorstep, he couldn't deny his interest was piqued! Not only was he interested in seeing that squids had evolved their own little subspecies, but he also saw this as the perfect opportunity for profit!

➼A creature that can continuously produce different colored inks?? He's practically seeing dollar signs...

➼No doubt he'll probably ask for a little share of what's in your ink tank, and in return he'll provide you protection and some benefits in the lounge, (albeit some very miniscule ones. Can't lose too much profit, now can we?).

➼But nevertheless, it couldn't be denied that your presence in the lounge had certainly brightened the atmosphere. Now not only can one make shady business deals, but they also get to watch this strange little squid creature run around and obsess over anything it deems "fresh".

➼Eventually though he would begin to warm up to you and see you as a bit more than a walking money bag, especially after the overblot incident. You offered him a helping hand and a friendly smile, even when he was hardly deserving of forgiveness, and he will always be grateful for that (though he will never admit that a loud).

➼He's always sure to keep watch over you, whether it be him in person or the twins, and if someone dares to cause you any trouble... Whew boy, they better hope they can handle a good squeeze.

➼Anytime there's something you want to show him, you'd better believe he's dropping what he's doing to look (within reason ofc), and if you manage to bring him something of extra value, he's sure to praise you and treat you to something from the lounge's menu.

➼Most of your time together is just you dragging him along to look for something fun to do, and although a lot of times he would rather be back at the lounge counting up earnings or advertising new business opportunities, he just can't say no to that face...

➼Overall he'll likely be your safest bet as long as you're willing to sacrifice some ink and maybe your free will 👍

Floyd Leech

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➼When you first arrived, he just thought you were the silliest lil creature! It didn't matter to him if you were human or squid, he just wanted to squeeze you and play with you.

➼And squeeze you he will, you better be watching your back all times of the day bc this man can and will ambush you with the most bone-crushing hug in existence. You don't even have bones and yet you feel the structure of your very being squashed like a water balloon.

➼He takes a liking to you almost immediately out the gate, assigning you the nickname "squidling" since he already nicknamed someone else "squid", and you change colors way too often to assign a colored type of squid.

➼Instead of you dragging him around, now it's his turn to drag you. Will literally snatch you from wherever you are, whether it be your dorm room or even class, and run off to wherever sounds the most fun in the moment. (R.I.P Grim, you're on your own)

➼Literally has 0 idea what you're saying (inklings speak a special kind of language), but will absolutely pretend to know what you mean. Will have an entire full blown conversation with you even if, with context, the conversation doesn't make any sense whatsoever.

➼Likely will go out of his way to get something for you if he believes it's something you'd find "fresh". Mans is gonna come to your dorm with like 20 shiny rocks, some shirts and a thingamabob or two and you're keeping ALL of them.

➼Can and will try to make you swim somehow due to your squid features. It will not go well.

➼You're probably one of the very few people that can pull him out of his bad moods without bribery or blackmail. Legit just start talking to him about anything random and he'll give you one of those legit scary smiles and squeezes onto you like you've just given him the best news of his life.

➼He's a pretty alright option if you don't mind being a caprisun under a hydraulic press. Just... Stay alert.

Jade Leech

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

➼Mans is literally scary, why would you pick him???? /j Much like Azul, he's very curious about you when you first arrive in Octainvinelle, but instead of profiting purposes, he more or less wants to study you.

➼He's very curious about what it is that makes you tick. How did squids evolve to produce a specimen like you? Are there more of you? And if so, have your species formed an intricate society? Where does your language originate? Do you have a similar intestinal structure to humans or merfolk???

➼Bro has probably thought about dissecting you at least 40 times and counting, but because it's heavily frowned upon in a school setting, he's decided against poking around in a squid-kid cadaver. For now...

➼Until then though, he ensures he's as hospitable as he possibly can be, while also leaving some room for learning about your unique culture.

➼This means he will likely be one of the very few students to start picking up on your language, as well as understanding your behaviors/mannerisms.

➼It was during these studies of his that you two developed a sort of trade system. You would bring him some wild mushrooms or any plants that look interesting, and in return he will buy you something "fresh" from Sam's shop, with a reasonable price tag ofc.

➼And due to this mutually beneficial system, it didn't take long for the two of you to become good friends. It wouldn't be very often you would see this tall eel man without his tiny squid companion, especially when it comes to his mushroom garden. Congrats, you have entry to the sporehouse 👍

➼This also means you two get to share your special interests with one another. You get to spend time with him creating mini terrariums and growing shrooms, and in return you can teach him how to play turf war (the second he gets the hang of it you will constantly get your ass beat).

➼He's a pretty sound option over time, but you should NEVER be alone with this man with lab equipment. Never trust a man who enjoys clam blitz.

[mahs-dumpster]

On the house

a/n: this was fun to write!!! Fun Fact: I actually wrote this when I was first starting to post about daiggie, and I completely forgot this fic existed until today when I was bored scrolling through my wip... So I went and finished it lol

cw: oc x canon (Daisy x Ruggie)

words: 953

“There ya go, one chocolate milkshake, one strawberry milkshake, one omelet and one vanilla cake with an orange juice!” said Ruggie as he quickly and carefully laid all said items on the table, remembering exactly which one was who’s. “Anything else?” 

“No, I think we’re good for now. Thank you, Ruggie-senpai.” Daisy smiled at him and he gave her a wink as he smiled.

“Ok! Call me if ya need me, fresh meat.” He said, referring to the group of freshmen, but before he walked away to take someone else's order, he quickly looked at Daisy and added: “oh, Daisy: ya can just call me Ruggie.” 

With that, he was gone, off to look after another customer in the Mostro Lounge as Daisy couldn't contain her smile. She began to drink her chocolate milkshake until she noticed a pair of eyes staring at her. She lifted her head only to see Ace drinking his own strawberry milkshake, eyes stuck on her.

“What?”

“When are you two just going to start dating and be done with it?”

Daisy choked on her milkshake, Grim lightly hitting her back to help her as Deuce stopped eating his omelet to try and somehow help his friend. After a while, when the girl finally was able to regain her posture, she breathed in and out and glared at Ace with annoyance, while he continued unfazed.

“W-what are you talking about?” She asked, telling Grim she was alright. 

“Please. You two can barely keep your eyes off each other. It's irritating.” 

“I think they're perfectly fine.” Deuce said, finally going back to his omelet and Ace just rolled his eyes. 

“You wouldn't know when people are into each other, you're too dumb for that.” 

“Hey–”

“Guys, please.” Daisy said, catching both of their attention. She looked at Ace one more time, her fingers playing with the straw in her milkshake. “Ace, do you– do you think he– I mean…”

“Yes, he likes you. He makes it painfully obvious too, I'm shocked you didn't notice until now.” Ace answered and Daisy felt her cheeks growing warmer, so she went back to drinking her milkshake to distract herself.

“You mean Ruggie’s got a crush on Daisy?” Grim asked, his mouth full with cake. He finished swallowing his food and started thinking, a paw on his chin. “Now that you said it… he does show up often throughout the day.”

“T-that’s just because he’s busy doing odd jobs and errands for Leona-senpai all around campus. It's natural he gets to see us often…” Daisy tried to make up an excuse, not believing the idea that Ruggie would like her of all people.

“Actually, now that I think of it… I’m pretty sure you mentioned Bucchi-senpai coming to Ramshackle fairly often, no?” Deuce questioned and Daisy tried denying it once again.

“H-he just needed my help with some stuff recently! That's why he shows up!”

“Daisy. He told you to stop using honorifics.” It was Ace’s turn to give his own piece of evidence.

“We’re friends! Wouldn't it be strange if  I called you ‘Ace-san’? It's the same thing!”

“Who’s friends?” Ruggie’s sudden voice made itself known and all of them flinched, realizing the topic of the conversation was here at this moment. Ruggie lifted an eyebrow at that. “You guys ok or?”

“Y-yeah, we’re fine, senpai, no need to worry! Right, Ace?” Deuce tried, nudging Ace to cooperate, and with a heavy groan the ginger nodded. 

Ruggie didn't look convinced, but he let the topic die. Then, he laid a plate with a slice of a kind of pie in from of Daisy, making the girl look at him despite her red cheeks. 

“Is this for us?” Grim’s mouth watered looking at the food, but Ruggie prevented him from getting any closer to the plate, making the small cat-like creature grumble.

“It's for Daisy. A pumpkin pie, and don't worry, it's on the house.” 

“On the– wait, no, you don't need to, seriously, this will get you in trouble with–” Daisy tried to give him the plate back but Ruggie denied it.

“Azul owed me something.” Ruggie smirked at the idea. “I asked him for a free slice of pie in return. Simple as that.”

Daisy's eyes went back to the pie. It was her favorite flavor… Why was he doing that to her anyway? He couldn't possibly gain anything from it so… why? She couldn't understand.

Ah… her face felt ever warmer now.

“But there's always a price.” Ruggie grinned. “I need help with some chores this Friday. You better be at the Mirror Chamber at 5.”

“Chores?” She mumbled, a bit confused. Still, she knew how Ruggie worked, and she was used to doing chores around Ramshackle, — and back in her own world — so she’d be fine, but… “why do you need my help?”

The beastman's ears twitched as he looked away with an awkward laugh. Ace side eyed Daisy and Deuce simply looked curiously at the interaction while Grim was back at devouring his piece of cake. It felt awkward for a bit, Ruggie didn't really have a proper answer for her question, which only made the small hope in Daisy’s heart grow.

“Because.” He gave up, deciding to end the subject as he heard another customer asking for his service. “Enjoy your pie. See ya on Friday.” 

With that, the four of them were left alone once again, and Daisy started poking at the pie while failing to contain a giddy smile. She cut herself a bite sized piece and brought it to her mouth, enjoying everything about it.

It was one of the best pumpkin pies she had tasted in a while.

“Have fun on your date.”

“It's not a date!”

[voxofthevoid]

Commencing Mundane Unclekuna Wednesday #1—yes, these names get more ridiculous by the day. The actual fic title is bloodstains on the collar means just don't ask, which is significantly cooler on account of not being mine.

This is my first non-canon JJK AU—as opposed to the canon divergence, minor or major, that I favor—and despite the name, this isn't just sukuita; there's also goyuu. Quick, act shocked.

A lot of the AU development/exposition so far has focused on adapting canon details about the Itadori family for a no-powers, all-human context—like this post shows. On the character end, sorting out a version of Sukuna who's not a cannibalistic mass murderer but is sure as hell not nice, kind, or even sane has been a fun challenge, especially when depicting him from Yuuji's perspective. Gojou and the goyuu bits also needed some work, since taking them out of the canon context while keeping their age gap and teacher–student dynamic changes the flavor of fuckery. The most fun has been Yuuji though—you can see why here.

The fic is currently 3 chapters and 14k. I have a total of 7 chapters planned, though that may increase by one or two depending on how the sex scenes come along. For this week, instead of a single scene, I've picked a goyuu section from Chapter 2 and a sukuita one from Chapter 3.

Goyuu

Satoru plucks the manga that’s been resting on the table, balancing it on a finger while watching Itadori struggle to watch Satoru’s hand, chest, and face all at the same time. “School’s a boring place to wait. You can meet up at some café, can’t you?”

“I…guess?” Itadori shrugs. “It’s fine. I mean, I don’t mind. It’s more fun to go with people.”

“Shy?” Satoru asks, setting the manga down. “Or are you afraid people will think you’re some delinquent?”

Itadori looks both bewildered and entrained. He has a very expressive face. The eyes, especially.

“Nothing like that, sensei,” he says, and Satoru leans in a little at his tone—the same amused patience Satoru’s heard in people who can tolerate him best, except they generally take months, if not years, to get to that level of resigned acceptance. Itadori leans in too, matching Satoru consciously or unconsciously. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“I’m a curious guy,” Satoru drawls. It’s not even a lie. “And you’re interesting.”

Itadori blushes again. “Oh. Um, thanks?”

Satoru smiles. This time, Itadori’s eyes drop to his mouth, and Satoru can’t help smiling a little wider.

Itadori swallows.

“Back to the question then.” Satoru links his hands and props his chin on it. Itadori’s gaze doesn’t leave his mouth. “Why’d your uncle come pick you up?”

Itadori’s well within his rights to tell Satoru to fuck off—diplomatically, maybe, since they’re teacher and student, but the sentiment would be the same. Even Satoru’s closest friends aren’t shy about firmly and often physically steering his nose out of their business.

But Itadori answers: “My parents left town pretty suddenly, and I’d forgotten my phone at home. They couldn’t tell me to go to Sukuna’s place instead. So he came here.”

Satoru hums. “I’d say you’re old enough to stay home alone. Don’t tell me you’re the sort to cause trouble with a bit of freedom.”

“No?” Itadori looks genuinely confused. “I mean, I don’t think so. I don’t mind staying alone either, but my dad worries, so…”

“So you’re being a considerate son,” Satoru finishes in his own words. “What a good boy.”

Itadori’s breath catches audibly. His eyes are darker now, giving an animal edge to his face. It’s an interesting expression, and it makes him look a bit more like his uncle.

Satoru gives him a moment.

Then— “He seems like an interesting man to live with, your uncle.”

Itadori blinks. A frown takes over his face, even though his eyes stay tellingly dark. “You could say that. Gojou-sensei, you aren’t…?”

Satoru waits, but Itadori doesn’t complete the question, just stares at Satoru like he’s trying to telepathically pour the rest of the words into his head. Unfortunately, Satoru isn’t fluent in awkward teenager.

“Go on,” Satoru prods.

Itadori grimaces, and it shows in his voice when he asks, “You’re not, like, into Sukuna, are you?”

Satoru’s dumbfounded for a moment. Then he’s stifling laughter, not all that successfully. Itadori’s expression shifts from disgusted discomfort to just plain embarrassment, but even through that, he stares at Satoru—his mouth and his eyes.

Brave boy.

“Sorry,” Satoru says, not meaning it one whit. He’s loving this. “Reasonable assumption on your part, really. But don’t worry, your uncle’s safe from me.”

Itadori seems to relax a little. “It’s more the other way around.”

“Oh?” Satoru asks, intrigued. “Is he trouble?”

Itadori squints at him. “Sensei, you sound way too excited about that.”

“I did say I’m curious! I can promise not to hit on him, if that’ll put you at ease.” Satoru holds out his hand invitingly. ���Gentleman’s agreement.”

Itadori stares at the hand for a full second.

Then he slowly, warily takes it.

It’s not a small hand; Itadori’s not a small boy. Satoru is bigger though, and his hand envelops Itadori’s, the tips of his index and middle fingers coming to a gentle rest against Itadori’s pulse. His hand is shockingly rough, with hard calluses brushing Satoru’s skin.

He squeezes gently.

Itadori’s blush hasn’t faded fully since Satoru called him a good boy, but now, it flares, splattering gracelessly across his face. It goes shockingly well with his hair.

Lines are being crossed. Satoru feels it keenly, the change in the air.

He drags his hand out of Itadori’s, slower and more delicate than he needs to. His fingers trail from Itadori’s racing pulse to the trembling tips of his fingers, and even after Satoru’s leaned back again, folding his hands demurely in his lap, Itadori’s hand hovers in the air over the table for a good few seconds before dropping limply to the surface.

Satoru winks at him. “Now spill.”

Itadori blinks slowly. Satoru can practically see his brain rebooting.

“What was the question again?” Itadori asks.

Sukuita

Movement wakes him, eons before the touch.

A hand settles on his hip, searing even through the cloth. It’s limp, flopping there in a decent mimicry of a sleep-heavy limb. Sukuna knows better.

Wasn’t always like this. The kid was a kid once. More of a kid. Small, helpless, useless. A piece of shit from the start though. The first time Jin handed him to Sukuna, practically forcing his little bundle of snotty joy into his hands, the little fucker had thrown up on his face.

Jin laughed, the bastard. He didn’t mean to, that much was clear from the stifled snorts and painfully red face. Kenjaku had no such compunctions, chortling like the same brat hadn’t damn near killed them on his way out of their cunt.

Kaori had the sense to take the baby away before Sukuna could toss him out a window. The most sensible of the lot, and of course she’s the one who went and died. Sukuna’s been seeing a lot more of the kid since then. Even more since Wasuke followed suit.

Shit luck to be born into a family like this. He used to think the brat didn’t fit in, with his big baby eyes and bleeding heart. Worse than his father. Turns out he’s weirder too, but Sukuna blames Kenjaku for that.

Blood will always out.

That’s no excuse for this—the hand sliding down to his stomach, the body pressing against his back. The kid’s warm.

He’s not, usually. That body runs cold. Sukuna noticed it the first time when the kid was tiny, barely the length of his forearm. A frail mass of fabric and fluff nestled against his chest, leeching off his body heat. Not that it took much to warm that tiny thing.

’Course, then the kid woke up and promptly latched on to a nipple because he was even dumber then, and when Sukuna pried him off while yelling for Kenjaku, he’d been treated to a deranged shriek that damn near ruptured his ear drums.

Nothing much has changed over the years. The brat went from screaming at him to biting him to scowling at him to punching him to trying to fucking kill him. Wildcat, through and through. The only part of him Sukuna’s ever bothered to nurture.

It’s different when he’s asleep. The baby soaking in his warmth. The toddler sprawled on his chest. The boy curled up in his lap.

Small and weak and utterly unbothered about it.

How the fuck do you live like that, trust like that?

At least this is better. It’s not trust breathing into his nape and groping his stomach. It’s just human filth.

They’re testing touches, slow enough and idle enough that the brat probably thinks they’d pass as sleepy ministrations.

Idiot.

Nobody would miss the intent behind this. It’s scorching.

If someone held him at gunpoint and forced him to admit the one thing he has in common with his brother’s spawn, it wouldn’t be the hair or the blood or the killing rage—it’d be this, the hunger.

Sukuna can tell the exact moment the brat decides he’s actually asleep. His palm presses flat against Sukuna’s stomach, skin to skin. That’s on him for sleeping shirtless despite his impromptu bedmate, but like hell is he changing his habits just because this little creep wants to molest him in his sleep. Not like clothes would stop him anyway.

Sukuna continues to feign sleep, his breathing steady and just a little uneven—a rhythm he memorized and learned to mimic for situations a lot more dire than the badly planned porno playing out right now.

The kid’s patient. Or just a fucking virgin. Sukuna can’t imagine why else he’d spent minutes just touching his stomach, that warm palm rubbing lazy circles over his abs. Sometimes, it presses down, denting the soft layer of fat on his belly to dig into the muscle underneath. It’s a struggle not to flex then. A few muscles jump, entirely involuntary, but the brat just breathes heavier and wetter, squirming closer to Sukuna.

There’s another hand between their bodies—an entire arm, the line of it doing nothing to hide what it’s touching. It’s not moving, yet, and Sukuna still hasn’t figured out whether it’s there just for the pressure or if the stupid shit actually thinks that not digging his boner into Sukuna’s back means something.

Some line to not cross. Some precious moral to cling to.

Sukuna wouldn’t put it past him, but the brazen bullshit the other day told a different story. It sure wasn’t guilt or even shame that darkened the brat’s eyes when Sukuna tore him off his back and pinned him by the throat.