#i feel like something needs to happen that proves to them that they need to talk shit out

[pyrrhiccomedy]

A DM’s Fair Play Guide To Plot Twists

I love running a game with a lot of surprises. The challenge to pulling this off well is that, unless you’re playing a one on one game, your players outnumber you: and between them, they have a good chance of figuring out what’s going to happen, no matter how sneaky and clever you are.

The first way of dealing with this - which I’ll just call the bullshit way - is to not give your players the information they need to solve the mystery. Don’t let them find out about the secret society until it’s too late. Don’t give them any reason to suspect that their NPC ally is planning to kill them. Don’t let them find the murder weapon, don’t let them locate the witnesses, don’t give them the chance to skip to the end of their investigation.

This sucks, and if you run your games like this, you’re going to piss off your players. Because it isn’t fair.

In mystery literature, a “fair play mystery” is one where the reader is given all of the information they need in order to figure out the solution before the Big Reveal. It’s what makes the reveal good: that GASP, the “oh shit, the knife! the knife from the party! that was hers! I forgot!”

Pulling off a twist in a fair play game is an incredible feeling. Your players will think you’re a genius (or an absolute dick bastard, which is just as good) and they’ll respect it more when they land in hot water that they plausibly could have avoided. So how do you run a fair play game without your players figuring out the twists ahead of time, given that you’re definitely not smarter than all of your players put together?

By fucking with their expectations.

Here are some things that I keep in mind, to keep my players guessing. And it’s important, with all of this, that if your players see through something, let them have it. They should figure out a lot of things on their own! But if you’re regularly seeding your stories with all of this stuff, eventually your players will miss something. Those are somethings you can build on. The same way that a low level enemy who gets away once can keep coming back again and again until they become an important antagonist, a misapprehension your party proves to have a blindspot for can grow and develop until they get smacked with a breathtaking twist. 

What’s a twist if not the sudden overturning of an assumption you never thought to question?

1: Make your powerful friendly NPCs know a lot...but not as much as the players think they do.

Player characters often end up with powerful allies. It would be very convenient for the party if those allies always had accurate information. Make sure they don’t always enjoy that convenience.

It’s a balancing act: you want your powerful NPCs to be powerful. You want this alliance to be meaningful and beneficial to your players. But give your NPC an Achilles heel of some kind, when it comes to the information at their disposal. The Noble General commands powerful forces and knows the lay of the enemy’s land well...but that doesn’t mean he knows what every squadron and scouting party is up to. The Political Mastermind may know the ins and outs of the court, and have keen insight into the motivations of others: but he has an enemy who pisses him off so much that he loses all objectivity around her. The Powerful Wizard can call upon great magic to aid the party: but his divinations aren’t as accurate as he thinks they are, and he’s prone to finding, in his signs and omens, what he wants to see, more than what’s actually there.

Most of the time, their information should be good! That will make it more likely that your players will trust them the one time when it isn’t.

2. Let (apparently) less powerful NPCs sometimes know more than the players think they do. 

Most NPCs aren’t the Noble General or the Powerful Wizard. Most NPCs are Daves, designed to get the players from place to place. Most of those Daves know about as much as you’d expect them to. But some Daves have plans of their own.

You don’t always have to signpost with big blinking lights which of your NPCs are ‘important,’ and which ones are ‘unimportant.’ Sneak in a crafty Dave from time to time. That assistant they talk to, every time they go to see the prince? That bitch knows everything, and she’s almost ready to make her move. 

3: There is no such thing as a completely reliable witness. 

If the players only get information from one person, that information should be flawed in at least one, potentially small, but important way. Smart players will seek a second opinion, or at least allow for the possibility that their information may be incomplete. But even smart players get out over their skis sometimes.

4: Let your NPCs be aware of the power of a first impression. 

If an NPC gives a strong first impression of being a particular kind of person, it’s because they’re comfortable giving that impression. That might be because it’s who they are. But maybe not.

One of the first characters the PCs met in a VtM campaign I ran was Gawaine. Gawaine was a good old pine-scented man’s man, with salt and pepper stubble and a blue Ford truck. He listened to AC/DC, and talked about the war. He was affable and honest and willing to lend a hand. You already know Gawaine. Everybody knows a Gawaine. Gawaines are trustworthy, salt of the earth types. You don’t necessarily think to question a Gawaine.

That’s exactly why Gawaine was such a useful persona for Krystiyan, the Tzimisce Voivode, a cruel and alien sculptor of flesh who “never left his haven.” There were plenty of clues that they were the same person, but that campaign was in its endgame before the players put them all together.

5: Sometimes, dangerous and villainous NPCs should be helpful and cooperative. 

Not even necessarily because they’re manipulating the players, or even deceiving them about their true natures, but because their interests and the players’ interests genuinely align...for the moment. 

One of the easiest levers in your players’ brains to exploit is the expectation that people who help you are your friends. Even if your players know, consciously, that they shouldn’t trust this person, most of the time they kind of can’t help it, if the NPC is genuinely helpful to them and at least a little charismatic. 

6: Sometimes, good and valuable NPCs should be unhelpful and uncooperative. 

No matter how mature your players are, there’s a natural tendency to react to uncooperative NPCs with a reflexive, “Hey, fuck you! We’re the protagonists! This guy is an asshole!” so from time to time have a helpful, honest, good-aligned NPC have a wholly justified but as-yet-unknown-to-the-party reason to flatly refuse to deal with them.

7: Every NPC should have a secret. 

Not necessarily a bad secret. Were it to be revealed, it might even make the party like them more! But for their own reasons, the NPC does not want their secret to come out, and they will lie to the party to protect it. Players go crazy when they realize they’re being lied to, and often jump to some wild assumptions about your NPC’s motivations. I’ve had an NPC lie about the opening hours of a shop, and had the PCs assume that they were black market dealers for the villain when the dude just wanted to be able to close early so he could go smoke weed in the park.

8. As a DM, it’s polite to remind your players of the common knowledge their characters would possess...even when it doesn’t reflect the truth.

We all know it’s tedious when the DM calls for a roll when you’re just asking for common knowledge. I shouldn’t have to make a roll to know the dumb space word for plastic in a Star Wars game. I shouldn’t have to make a roll to know who the Holy Roman Emperor is in a game about medieval vampires. The DM should supply common knowledge for free, whenever it comes up.

That doesn’t mean common knowledge is true.

This is different from just lying to your players, because you don’t put the weight of DM word-of-God behind it. It’s not “You would know this guy is a Ventrue, based on XYZ.” It’s “it would be a common assumption that this guy is a Ventrue, based on XYZ.” He might not be a Ventrue. It might in fact be extremely important that he is not a Ventrue. But if it is commonly assumed that he’s a Ventrue, that is - word for word - something you can share with your players. If they don’t look any deeper than common knowledge, that’s on them.

9. Obviously untrustworthy NPCs provide great air coverage for less obviously untrustworthy NPCs.

The obviously untrustworthy NPC might or might not be planning to betray the party. But if you introduce two untrustworthy NPCs in the same storyline, and one of them seems normal and cool and has a genuine plot-related reason to be there, and the other one is Jaffar, Jaffar’s gonna get clocked, but Susan over there will probably slip under the radar, and might even get tapped to help out with the whole Jaffar situation. They might get Susan’s number, by the end of the session. Susan might become an ‘ally.’ Susan might even get romanced by a party member. Play your cards right, and Jaffar might just end up a footnote in the introduction of Susan, Scourge of Worlds and most hated NPC in the entire campaign.

10. Your villains should always have a secret plan B.

Your villain isn’t stupid, right? And your villain probably isn’t so arrogant that it is inconceivable to them that their plan might fail. They’ve been planning this ritual for ten thousand years, after all. It’s always possible that some plucky band of heroes could show up at the last minute and murder your high priest, or steal your amulet, or seduce your second in command. So what does your villain have in his back pocket to make the players go, “Oh, shit - he planned for this!”

This may mean that there is a whole separate plot happening, running alongside the main story. This is great, because when weird things happen, the players have to figure out whether this is part of Plot A or Plot B, and working out who did what and why gets a lot more interesting. If they end up foiling Plot A, great - your villain was also secretly behind Plot B the whole time, and will transfer all of his resources over to that. 

Sometimes your players will figure out that Plots A and B were both the same plot the whole time, with the same villain at the head, and they’ll feel like the smartest people on the planet, and it will be their favorite moment of the entire game. That’s great! You gave them that!

Sometimes, they won’t. And when the villain of Plot A, apparently defeated, starts laughing and reveals that he was also the mastermind behind Plot B, which is now too late to be stopped, that will probably be your favorite moment of the entire game.

[bidisasterevankinard]

What is your opinion about the vertigo poster that Tim posted? People are saying that is a confirmation of Buck being in love with Eddie…

Im really tired about all the “will they, won’t they” and I love Lou and Tommy/Buck relationship, do you think Lou will come back for season 8 or are you of the opinion that they’ll break up on the finale?

Idk the meaning of Vertigo(tell me). But the things I know:

People was talking about "this detail"(I can name like 5 right now without thinking much) says what buddie will happen. But it never happened

Ryan literally called Eddie HETEROSEXUAL. which means now no one sees him as queer and nothing like that will happen. Especially while he still deals with Shannon and her ghost, if ever. All the talks "but Tommy/Eddie was in plan means Eddie is queer" miss the point it was on the same stage of planning as Maddie/Eddie before 2x1. They had idea, they looked at their story, talked with actors and said "no, It's not what we will do" and dropped it. So now people need to understand that in canon creators see Eddie as hetero. Ryan sees him as hetero and Tim really respects and listens to opinion of his actors about their characters (I still hc Eddie demi btw, but people need to understand hc and canon is different things and I respect Ryan's opinion)

Ryan also said it was important for him and Oliver to play how queer man comes out to his straight friend and nothing between them change. It was important for him to play it to the situation he had with his close friend to show that men can stay close as before even if one of them comes out

Lou said bucktommy are thriving during what seem like 7x9/10 shooting

Tim called bucktommy rom-com and rom-com couple stays happy together in finale

Oliver is excited about exploring bucktommy's relationship and said it exciting to work with Lou and he hopes to get to know him

Both Ryan and Oliver told that they want to show that men can be close and vulnerable how buddie are without any feelings involved

Oliver said he doesn't want the situation where queer guy comes out and it means he's in love with his best friend

Lou till yesterday was not active in cameo which means he more likely was shooting and they kept it secret bc it can be spoiling. I can't see Buck's good and exciting coming out story, when he's so smitten, end with break up in the finale

Also, bucktommy kissed right after Bobby's wedding speech, right after madney's kiss with the love song which soooooo deep connected to madney's love story still playing. They could drop the music, not show the kiss, but they did. To show the point that Buck and Tommy are falling for each other step by step. And Tommy is the one calling Buck 'Evan' and it was confirmed important(and that Lou was instructed not to call him Buck) in they way that Buck loves how Tommy calls him that and to point out how different Tommy is. Which means that they plan to leave Tommy as long term. At least try to and gather reaction from ALL the fans, not just buddie fans

Also. It's season 7. And all the seasons Buck tries to find stability in love life, settle down. And it starts to get boring and painful to see how 911 use him to bad love stories and arcs. The last season started with him trying to prove he can be good captain eventually and Bobby tells him he needs to gather some more experience and settle down at ease, before he will be ready. And it's actually time for Buck to settle down. And Tommy can be it. Person who likes him, who respects him, who runs to him, who chooses him. Buck can settle down with Tommy and be finally at ease with love and look at what else life has for him. New hobbies, new possibilities in job(not even become a captain, but for example lieutenant as somehow our show doesn't have it, they might think about adding it. Or become mechanic. Or something), new friends even

So, I'm pretty positive this poster means nothing more than Tim appreciated the, as I know fan's work(correct me if I'm wrong), and Bucktommy and Lou are here to stay and people should get use to it

[gaysindistress]

Allies or Enemies - one

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

pairings: Dragonborn!bucky x f!reader

Summary: The reality of her cruel world is more evident than ever before when her stepfather sends her to her death under the guise of diplomacy. Y/n, the expendable daughter of a scared king, must find a way to secure her own protection among the Dragonborn and she will do that by whatever means necessary.

Warnings: mild cursing

Word count: 3.3k

series masterlist | main masterlist

taglist: @unaxv

“The king requires your presence.”

“But were I to require that he does not bother me, my request would be ignored. We cannot always have the things that we desire,” I sigh whilst continuing to read the journal in front of me.

The handwriting is terrible, so much so that I can barely finish a page in 5 minutes but given that the king has been demanding my presence at every chance that he gets, I continue with my struggles. An older woman stands in the doorway and I can feel her glare at me with a hatred that I imagine is reserved only for me. After all, my mother is the one who married her lover.

“Now.”

The finality in her tone would’ve caused a younger me to look up in fear but I’ve grown used to the stern reality of our world. As the eldest daughter of the queen, I’ve been educated in every form of manipulation that can be conveyed through the voice. As the child of the late king and the unwanted stepchild to the current king, I’ve been taught that I am the only protection that I have. No one will come to my aid or offer me guidance when I need it. No one will tend to my wounds when the cruel servants of the king lash me with their words. No one will care for me in the way that my younger sisters are looked after. No one would even bat an eye if I were to vanish into thin air. They might celebrate if that were to happen.

The woman whom I despise just as much as she me repeats herself with a heavy huff as if I have greatly inconvenienced her by breathing the same air as her or simply existing. Whether it be my existence or continued residence at the palace that is more vexing to her is yet to be determined I’ve decided.

The journal before me bound in precious leather and gold thread suddenly becomes unimportant. While it details the various races of creatures that occupy these lands and would prove to be useful in my studies, it will do nothing to shield me from the king’s wrath. My fingers drift away from the frayed edges and allow it to close by itself, prompting small dust specks to flutter around it. The black silk ribbon that I wound around the end of my braid is dangling above the curious journal, trailing its delicate ends over the monstrous illustrations hidden in its opulent bindings. The ribbon, much like my heart, yearns to open it once more and lose myself in its pages but is bound by duty to ignore such a yearning.

“Your highness,” she demands in a tight voice, “We are to leave now.”

Rolling my eyes would most certainly earn me a slap across the face but it doesn’t stop me from squeezing them shut in frustration. Standing up from my desk, I swipe at the dust on my lap, smearing gray streaks across the thick black fabric of my over skirt. She makes a small noise of disgust at the action, no doubt complaining loudly in her mind that being presentable is not something I know how to do. We make eye contact for a brief moment and she is quick to turn on her heel, forcing me to nearly jog to catch up so that I may follow this hateful woman to my certain death.

The Beloved King Anthony Starkov had been a wonderful king at first. After the invasion of the Dragonborn and the apparent failure by my father to protect his nation, Anthony seemed like a god sent. He rode in on a pure white horse with the head of the most fearsome Dragonborn knight on his sword as he declared that he was now king. My mother, the poor grieving widower queen, had no choice but to accept his proposal and promise to care for us. He’s doted on her, showered her with affection and gifts, and most importantly he treated me as if I were his own. Following my father’s death and living in fear of Dragonborn attack’s, a protective shield was all I prayed for. My mother could barely protect herself from the onslaught of the court’s cruel words and it became apparent that soon they would turn on me. It was not for a lack of trying surely but due to the fact that she was not a man. As the angry old woman who calls herself my advisor likes to remind me, a woman is only as powerful as the man that marries her and that meant my mother had no power until Anthony.

The moment that Anthony took the crown and later my mother’s hand, we’d all thought that this would be the bright moment in our bleak lives that we’d been looking for. The nation of York was at peace when it had been a foreign concept to me and many others after the Dragonborn had launched their attack. The love that Anthony and my mother shared burned brighter than the terror that my father had allowed into our land.

Until the rumors of his cruel actions behind closed doors began to spread.

The help always gossiped against themselves and no one truly paid any mind.

That is until evidence accompanies these rumors.

My mother did well to hide what she could but once again there was only so much that she could do to protect me. When my sisters came along, I presume that Anthony no longer felt anger towards her but instead towards me, the last reminder of the Failed King. I’d always had pitying stares and endured hushed conversations where my name slipped between their fingers as they whispered to each other.

Poor child.

I heard that she’s going to be married off as soon as possible.

I heard that she’s just as weak as her father.

Poor child.

I ignored them until I couldn’t anymore. I ignored them until I had been sent to live with a distant cousin to be “taught the art of diplomacy” and was told to never return to the palace. With this distant cousin, I did learn the art of diplomacy as planned but as the craft of cutting words and cunning actions. I’d grown rather talented at navigating the complicated relations of neighboring nations, so much so that foreign diplomats asked for me by name. My ability to seamlessly blend together warring cultures and broken bonds earned me fame beyond that of my late father. Of course like any wicked stepparent, Anthony demanded I return to court so that my talents may be best utilized to serve the nation.

What a wretched lie to shorten my leash.

So began my rebellion.

The older woman who is also my ill informed advisor, Pepper, stomps down the dim hall towards the grand battle room. Her reddish blonde hair hardly moves behind her as she makes a determined path to the king despite the curls it’s been styled into. It’s rather shocking to see her hair down at all considering she is usually the one to lecture me on the propriety of society and how as a member of the royal family, I must uphold that. After she’s red in the face and moments away from exploding with fury, I like to remind her that I’m the forgotten eldest daughter. No one thinks of me as the face of this family or that of modern society either.

Despite its name, the battle room cannot be considered grand by any stretch of the imagination. Much like the rest of the palace, it is old and worn from economic fatigue. Where gold used to be brushed across every inch, there are now only flecks of lackluster yellow. Where towering windows used to bathe the halls in sunlight, there are now curtains drawn to prevent the Dragonborn from seeing movement within the palace. There is no finery to be seen and what was once a regal sight to behold is the stark reminder that we are at war with enemies who have every advantage.

With a deafening boom, ragged guards who’ve past their battle prime push the battle room doors and alert the king to our arrival. Pepper stomps right to where the king is sitting among pillars of maps and letters and whispers something in his ear. I don’t need to know whatever lies she’s telling him because his expression tells me enough. His ever present scowl deepens when he looks up and settles his disgusted gaze on me.

Dust swirls from my skirts as I shift on my feet and hit the wood paneled floors beneath me with a silent loudness as he stares at me.

A single question hangs in the air as he attempts to peer into my soul, “Were you aware that the Dragonic bastards were planning to create an alliance with the Elven counsel?”

Of course no warm welcome or small talk. Straight to the heart of the reason he even dragged me back here in the first place.

“Was I aware of this alliance?” I calmly restate, arching a brow at the man who sits high on his worthless throne and judges me. “Had I been, I would have informed you the instant I knew, your highness.”

In truth, I had heard snippets of clipped conversations about something brewing between the two nations but nothing raised concern within me. Rather nothing could’ve convinced me to speak to this man willingly.

The throne is a disgusting sight to behold with its mangled wood and tattered black cloth that flows in the still wind behind it. Black as night and deafening as the ever present silence that fills when you’re dying, this throne is what haunted me as a child and whispers promises of my demise now as an adult. The throne smiles when it senses my anger and the man who is occupying it becomes a conduit for its emotions as that familiar sinister glint flickers in his dark eyes.

Anthony throws a glance to the dust that has fallen around me with disappointment before speaking, “Do not play games with me, child.”

My eyes narrow at his choice of words.

“I assure you,” I start as I take a step forward as the heels of my boots make light taps on the wood, “I am not playing games with you. As I said before, if I had heard anything about this rumored alliance then you would have been made aware as well but alas I did not know.”

Anthony’s hollow chuckle causes my hair to stand on end but my face is schooled into perfect indifference. I allow my expression to portray only mild concern for the safety of our nation and that gets under his skin more than anything.

“If that is the position that you wish to maintain, then so be it.”

I roll my eyes at him and his flash with rage for a brief moment. The king settles back into his chair as he smirks at me, “you are my most sought after diplomat, are you not?”

Where is he going with this? I think to myself while I nod.

“Of course you are. You have your father’s legendary silver tongue. I should think that you would be the perfect person to forge an alliance on the nation’s behalf.``

My heart stills while my body becomes completely frigid. Suddenly the thick fabrics of my skirts and tight corset are useless against the chill that has begun to creep up my spine. The king holds back an all out grin and clenches his jaw. The action tightens and sharpens his already pronounced jaw, giving him the appearance akin to a statue. A crown of graying black waves adores his head but it does nothing to soften the severe look on his tanned face. “I have arranged for you to travel to the Dragonic capital and broker a peace treaty of sorts between us and them. We cannot allow this war to rage on any longer if they intend to ally themselves with the Elven counsel. This nation will not survive.”

“You expect me to do what?” I snarl with a curl of my lip which sends the entire room on high alert. Pepper gasps as she steps behind Anthony and the guards have arranged themselves in a defensive circle.

The king on his feet in seconds, brandishing a dull sword and pointing it at me albeit still a safe distance away. My gaze makes a slow path from the pathetic sword to his furious face. It is not the first time that he’s drawn a weapon on me and I doubt it will be the least.

“Your father is the reason this nation is all but decimated and it will be you who corrects that mistake. You will do as I demand of you and you will do it well if you wish for your mother to live.”

“You would not dare.” I hiss at him as I step closer. He steps back and says my name but I interrupt him with a roar of anger.

“You cannot expect me to willingly walk into a viper’s den, provoke the beast within, and survive, let alone make it obey me. You must know that this means almost certain death for me and I will fail. It is an impossible task, your highness. I will not do it.”

He hesitates, something that I haven’t seen him do ever, and I want to take pride in being the one to cause his hesitation but it’s short lived. His lip curls up into a nasty smirk as he sneers at me and circles his desk to stand mere inches from me.

“We might share blood but you are not my step daughter or family in any sense of the word. You are an abomination, a blight upon this earth. You are a dark stain in the fabric of our history and one that I will spend the remainder of my reign trying to scrub clean. You are a beastly girl who knows no discipline nor manners and nothing can forgive the torment that you've put this court through. Understand that is a blessing and that I should sentence you to death outright for simply being the offspring of the Failed King.”

Too caught up in the king’s self-serving monologue, I’d failed to hear the sound of thundering wings and the dreadful slap of scaled boots marching towards the battle room. I’d missed how the palace seemed to shrink around us in fear while its enemy stormed its halls with permission. I’d missed how only Anthony and I remained while the others had fled for their safety. I’d failed to notice that the air grew hazy and thick with smoke instead of tension as I had assumed.

Just as I catch the scent of burnt embers, I turn to glance over my shoulder and see the most important thing that I had failed to notice; a knight clad in iridescent black armor who is standing just behind me.

Towering above everyone and everything in the room, the knight seems to be almost double the size of any mortal man I know. As I spin to face it, the hulking frame shrouds me in complete darkness. My eyes make the nearly seven foot long ascent to where a face might be if it weren’t for the helmet that chills me to my core as I recognize it.

It’s the helmet of a Dragonborn knight.

They all wear the same sleek black helmet that resembles their beastly forms; six large horn-like spikes that stretch from the sides and top while the chin comes to a narrow point like a dragon’s nose. The helmet is otherwise plain with engravings or markings to decorate it aside from two sets of ruby glass eyes that stare down at me. It covers the knight’s entire face and head, leaving not even a sliver of skin or strand of hair to be seen. Save for the nature creases where the armor is cut to allow for movement, it lacks any decorations or embellishments much like the helmet. I’d once been told that it’s iridescent quality was due to the fact it was made from their dragon form’s scales instead of metal like mortal knights’ but I’ve never been close enough to one to ask. This is the first time I've been close to a Dragonborn at all, knight or not. My father had allowed a handful of their diplomats into the palace before his death but they’d used they’re mortal forms and only stayed for however long was absolutely necessary. I scarcely remember them aside from their silently menacing presence that would engulf rooms before they walked in and the scent of burnt embers that clung to their skin. Aside from those few past encounters, my knowledge comes from the journals I’ve snuck into the palace but nothing would’ve prepared me for this moment.

The knight simply stares down at me with those double ruby eyes before lifting its head to look at Anthony. With its gaze off of me, I look around it to see that there are only three more Dragonborn knights. Given how hostile our nations’ relationship has been, I would’ve expected to see a small army. Instead it seems that their leader did not think they would face much resistance or maybe these knights are more vicious than I’d been led to believe.

Anthony lets out a shuddered breath before he speaks, “You will leave with them in two days time.”

The knight glances back at me. The clawed gauntlets that cover its hands make a small noise when they come to rest on the hilt of a onyx greatsword. It stiles a cord of deep rooted terror within me that I can’t stop from setting ablaze to my nerves.

they’re not like us

they’re not like us

they’re not like us

It echoes throughout my mind while we stare at each other. The knight cocks its head and I can only assume it's studying me as I am it.

Anthony’s unsteady footsteps stop me from getting caught up entirely in the knight before me.

“She’ll never forgive you,” I whisper without looking away from the knight. I don’t need to look to know that my cowardly stepfather is retreating to safety and leaving me with these monstrous knights.

“She’ll be more thankful that her true daughters are alive.”

The other knights approach us, causing Anthony to let out a shaky chuckle in fear and stumble as he steps back.

One speaks, his gravelly voice rumbles the walls of this weak palace and shakes dust all around us, “The binding ceremony will take place tonight. Have you made the preparations as requested?”

I hear Anthony mumble something along the lines of ‘yes’ with a rambling of nervous explanations. The only words I can focus on are “binding ceremony”. They fall off my tongue in confusion and disbelief without me realizing.

“For your protection,” another more guttural voice answers. It’s quieter, one could not call it gentle but the low tone might be considered such to their kind. The knight before me waits for me to say something and when I don’t, he adds, “you will be safe with us. No harm shall befall you under our guard.”

A sarcastic chuckle wants to spill out but I keep my lips sealed. Safety is an illusion for any member of the royal family and it’s one that I saw through many years ago. I have no doubt that the knights will protect me as long as I prove useful but the moment an alliance is forged, that protection will end. Anthony will kill me the moment I step foot back into his nation and I have no allies of my own to rely on me.

The reality of this cruel world is more evident than ever before; I must find a way to secure my own protection and I will do that by whatever means necessary.

[defectivehero]

hii! I was wondering If you could write Detective x supervillain, I love the way you write their dynamic and would love to see more of it. If not, that's totally alright. thank you in advance!

hey hey! sure thing. this may not be the vibe you were looking for, but this was the first idea that popped into my head and i liked it, so... yeah! also, a quick sidenote: I don't know what I did to deserve such polite and sweet anon asks recently, but... thank you! y'all are so kind and it restores my faith in the internet. thanks for being so cool <3

"Detective," the supervillain smirks. They're conflicted as they watch the detective flinch hard and spin around in their chair with wide eyes. Their fear is delightful, but... Something about the display turns the supervillain's stomach. The detective's fear isn't fading, the supervillain realizes, even though they've met their gaze. In the past, the detective would relax after seeing them. The supervillain studies them for another moment, the words slipping from their lips before they can stop them. "In all the years you've known me, you've never been afraid of me."

The detective's expression sours. "Maybe I didn't really know you, then." They snap with uncharacteristic forcefulness, crossing their arms over their chest. The detective's gaze hasn't left theirs since the supervillain first made their presence known. There's a new wariness in the detective's eyes.

"What the hell is with you?" The supervillain feels the need to ask. They make sure the question is disguised in a heavy layer of expectant frustration, rather than the genuine confusion and betrayal they think they may be feeling deep down.

"You just killed six people-" the detective chokes out, shaking their head. The supervillain glances at the utter mess on their desk. The detective has evidently been looking at the photographs of the crime scene the supervillain just created a few hours ago.

"Sweetheart," the supervillain says patronizingly, making sure to look down at the detective as if they're a pet that has misbehaved. "I'm a supervillain. Class X and everything. You shouldn't be surprised when I commit crimes."

"I know that," the detective hisses angrily, pushing themself to their feet. The supervillain is surprised by the sheer amount of emotion in their voice. It doesn't take them very long to rationalize the detective's new attitude.

"Oh, I see what happened," the supervillain realizes aloud, a grin growing on their face despite the dread coiling in their stomach, begging them to turn back while they still can- "You let your guard down."

"No, I didn't-" The detective argues immediately.

"You did," the supervillain interjects before they can stop themself. That old, sick glee is back. They embrace it like an old friend. "You thought, even for the briefest of moments, that I would abstain from cruelty."

The detective doesn't respond, proving their suspicions correct. The supervillain laughs. "That's hilarious. Did you think that our conversations, that this-" They motion between the two of them, "-was making me a better person? Thwarting my evil, perhaps?"

The detective is infuriatingly silent. Their brows are furrowed and their expression is pinched. There's an unfamiliar tightness to their posture.

"Maybe you need a reminder," the supervillain hums, extending a hand and raising their hand. The detective rises until they're floating in air, strangled by an unseen force. "I am not, nor will I ever be, a good person."

"I am a rotten, despicable being. You can't save me or redeem me—although you have certainly tried." The latter statement is spoken with a sort of detached amusement.

As the detective's airways grow tighter, the supervillain sees that same expression again—fear glimmering in the detective's typically dull eyes. They grit their teeth. The nausea they felt before is returning. The detective is writhing in their unseen confines, struggling against their hold. Growling at their own weakness, the supervillain lets their hand fall to their side. The detective promptly falls to the ground, coughing and choking as they regain their breath.

The supervillain feels like they're spectating—a mere observer as someone else pilots their body and forces their thoughts out into the open air. "I can't promise to be so merciful the next time we meet." The supervillain announces, clenching and unclenching their fist. They don't think the statement is for the detective's benefit. Rather, it's to hold themself accountable.

"You weren't merciful," the detective says disbelievingly, their voice raspy. They're still kneeling on the ground. They let out a small cough.

"Maybe you don't really know my mercy, then," the supervillain hums, playing on the detective's words from earlier. Their gaze meets the detective's and a sort of new understanding passes between them. Whatever they had before is decimated—abandoned out of necessity. The supervillain turns on their heel and walks away, brutally aware of the detective's surprised, betrayed gaze pinned on their back—a gaze that has evidently morphed into hatred.

The two of them had a good thing going, the supervillain supposes. There was a sort of unspoken truce between them for a while there. When the supervillain needed information, they asked the detective—and vice versa. There had been some close calls between them over the years, but never anything as clear-cut as what the supervillain did mere moments ago.

The supervillain has always been self-sufficient; they've survived and thrived for centuries on their own. So... why does the prospect of continuing on without the detective's presence sound so daunting?

©2024, @defectivehero | @defectivevillain, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

thanks for reading <3

(the supervillain definitely isn't force choking the detective.... definitely not... ha... ha.... ha.... sigh)

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[sibylsleaves]

What happens after buck and eddie get together.

hello friend IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED

There are literally SOOOOOO many fun storylines that could come out of this but like, first of all, how do you even start a relationship that you're basically already in the middle of??? This is NOTHING like starting a relationship with someone new, or even someone you're casually friends with (as you could argue Buck and Taylor were) this is...starting a relationship when you already know that in the event of your death this is the person you want to raise your child. This is starting a relationship knowing this person has already seen you at the lowest of your lows, that this person knows EVERY intimate, embarrassing, silly detail about you. like yeah that's beautiful but I also think it would be surprisingly difficult to navigate.

Like. Especially if you're Buck and Eddie who both, in different ways, have such an idealized view of romance (I would actually argue Eddie more so than Buck in many ways). And yeah, i think they've done a lot of work to deconstruct that BEFORE they even get together, but it's still like...a complete rewiring of the way you operate in a romantic relationship and that's not going to happen overnight. They're going to stumble over little things that feel awkward or unnatural because maybe they're still trying to fit this into a more familiar version of romance before they realize they don't HAVE to do that. Do they just continue on the way they've been but now they kiss and have sex? Do they start going on dates? Do they start calling each other pet names? How much time is it acceptable to spend with a brand new romantic partner who is also the man named in your will to raise your child if you die AND ALSO your coworker who you see for 24 hours at a time. Do they have different ideas about the answers to these questions and how do they navigate THAT?

And speaking of being coworkers, is there gonna be conflict with the 118 because it's technically against policy for them to date and be on the same shift? Maybe one of them transfers to a different shift but oh no now they never see each other! Cue a storyline where they prove how good of a team they are and that the fire chief (or whoever) shouldn't force bobby to separate them. And also, their lives are SO intertwined that whenever a conflict arises it's like. Who am I supposed to get an outside perspective from? YOU are the person I always go to with my relationship problems. And literally everyone else I know is ALSO your friend. So potentially we'd get some opening up of more relationships on the show, particularly for Eddie who almost ALWAYS goes to either Buck or, less frequently, Bobby with relationship issues. (Buck still has Maddie) But like. Bobby is BASICALLY Buck's dad so???? and even Carla, who seems to be at this point lowkey written out of the show, knew Buck first!!!! Eddie either has to talk to his parents (difficult because they've never approved of his relationships in the past and I think it's still probably touchy subject for them), Pepa (i actually love this option but also she's a different generation and sometimes you really DO need the opinion of someone who intimately understands modern relationships. Or maybe we get Eddie rekindling his friendship with Linda, or getting closer with Karen (this is after they get trapped in a well together thanks ryan guzman).

And in general (stealing this from @try-set-me-on-fire's recent post about them fighting) HOW do they navigate conflict in their relationship because we really DONT see them have much conflict in their friendship, so what happens when a relatively small issue in their relationship blows up into something bigger just because they literally DONT KNOW how to argue with each other.

And I haven't even touched the Christopher of it all yet. I DO think there's juicy conflict to mine there, because as many people have said I could see there being real fear for him about what happens when/if this relationship implodes the way ALL Eddie's relationships have imploded. I think it could go one of many ways, but what's interesting for me here is Chris is NOT ten years old anymore. He's a teenager, and his emotions are way more complex than just "ANGRY AT DAD." I could see him saying he's fine with it but then acting out in other ways that make Buck and Eddie realize he's NOT actually fine with it (kind of mirroring how we saw in 7x01 Chris acting out by stringing girls along being a symptom of Not Being Fine about Shannon's abandonment). And how Buck and Eddie might have to actually WORK to even get to a place to have an honest conversation about what his fears are.

Anyway I just think there's so much new exciting storytelling ground for them once they get together this is just the tip of the iceberg

[rebo-chan]

Something I was thinking about lately is Tsuna's daddy issues. Specifically this frame.

Like that's such a loaded thing to think about. He's got so much resentment built up. Obviously, there's no direct connection to any of Tsuna's issues made but I think a few fun things can be said from this. In general, Tsuna clearly didn't have a father figure in his life which sorta results in him leaning on Reborn pretty often. Tsuna doesn't have a very stable self-esteem with him going from confident to "Aah, Gokuderas going to become disillusioned with me now that all my flaws have been pointed out." GOKUDERA. His FIRST SUBORDINATE. The guy who literally has been LOYAL FROM DAY ONE. Not that we consider them canon, but this happens also during the filler arcs where Daemon points out that Tsuna's not worth following to Gokudera and it seems to make Tsuna a little antsy. He DOES NOT THINK THE PEOPLE HE LOVES ARE GOING TO STAY WITH HIM, THIS IS LITERALLY RUINING MY LIFE. What Daddy Issues DO TO A MF. But that's a post for another day. But okay, back to Reborn, Reborn proves himself to be immovable from Tsuna's life. The story points out that Tsuna very much has two fathers. The one who won't leave and the one who is always gone. Tsuna really leans on Reborn throughout the series. "Reborn, what do I do?" Is a common thing he says, until Reborn is literally swept away from him against his will in Future arc where he's forced to think that he's half a person in Reborns absence. Meanwhile, we have Iemitsu who Tsuna has resentment built up towards, does not respect, and is forced to acknowledge in order to win his fight. Throughout the rainbow arc battle, they try to point out that Iemitsu is trying to teach Tsuna something here and unless I'm confused (someone feel free to tell me?) it's not really clear WHAT that is. And I've always thought that was neat, because it's obviously coming from Tsuna's inability to respect Iemitsu enough to want to learn anything from him. Yet when Reborn comes in, hell he doesn't even recognize him in his Adult form, but he politely listens and takes his advice seriously. In the grand scheme of the series, Reborn is a good teacher and father figure in his life. When Tsuna is made to feel like that he can't do anything in Reborn's absence during Future, Reborn takes a step back in that arc and lets him learn to survive without his guidance. (Notice how the training almost entirely disappears after Future.) He lets him learn how to be a person without him, only stepping in to help when Tsuna really needs it. When he's unable to light his flame, with Spanner, or when he's freaking out about the Irie reveal, the list really goes on. There's a scene I recall I believe when Yuni asks to join their group, Tsuna still turns to ask Reborn what to do, and Reborn redirects him by asking him what he wants to do. That it was his call as a boss. And Tsuna ends up making the decision to help her off his own accord.

It's with Reborn's guidance that Tsuna ends up learning to be his own person, it's this guidance that allows him to make the decision and gather everyone on his own accord when it was Reborn's turn to be shaky and give up. Where Tsuna tells him that he's got this under control, without his guidance. To just watch him. "you've always knew I could win before." It's this arc where Reborn's pride in Tsuna shines. Multiple times. "Surprise me again, Tsuna." And he does. It's in Reborn's second absence where Tsuna feels himself get shaky again, feels the old feelings of poor self image crop up, that Reborn comes back. Because Reborn is not Iemitsu, and he wasn't someone who left him in that house alone forever. Because he's still young and has much to learn before he's ready to do this on his own. It's at this he feels a little embarrassed about how glad he is that Reborn came back, but then recalls the "mean words" that Reborn said before leaving. It's here that Reborn tells him it's a good thing he hasn't changed much. Another sliver of guidance that Tsuna takes in from the figure in his life that won't leave him alone in that house.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Bleeding Heart Syndrome

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: angst, bucky kills someone, implied smut

Summary: Deciding to give this another try, you want to prove to yourself that Bucky is more than just the murderer you know him to be. He takes you to his work to show you that he runs a business like any normal person. However, when someone makes one wrong comment, you're reminded why your heart bleeds because of him.

Between Love and Hate Masterlist

Squares Filled: no modesty (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Then

It didn’t matter how many dates you and Bucky went on, you were still nervous to have him over. You decided to bring him over to your house for a homemade dinner. Your mother taught you how to make a delicious pasta dish that you were just dying for Bucky to try.

Bucky pulled up to your house with Steve and Sam in the car. Bucky checked the time for the tenth time since leaving his mansion. Living this double life was getting too hard to conceal. You were getting closer to him and asking all these questions that he couldn't answer. He was trying so hard to keep you in the dark, but how long could he do this?

Sooner of later, his past was going to catch up to him.

“Should we follow you up?”

“No,” Bucky sighed. “Just stay out here.”

Bucky got out, walked up to your door, and knocked. You jumped from the sudden noise but rushed over to the door. You opened it to see Bucky standing there looking drop-dead gorgeous.

“Right on time,” you smiled and let him in.

“Is something burning?”

“Shit.”

You left his side and ran to the kitchen. You yanked the pan off the stove and checked on the vegetables in there.

“Need help?”

“Actually, yes. My mom taught me this recipe but I never said I was good at cooking it,” you chuckled.

Bucky shed off his jacket only to drape it over the back of the chair. His muscles bulged in the tight shirt he was wearing. Forget dinner. You wanted him. Bucky took over the process and made it his own despite you telling him how your mom made it.

“Check on the noodles.”

You took a single strand of noodle and threw it at the wall. It stuck to it like it was glue.

“It’s ready,” you grinned.

After draining the noodles, you poured them into the pot that had the sauce. The noodles flowed over as a bunch so that they splattered inside, causing the sauce to spray out. You gasped when it touched your neck and Bucky smiled when he saw a red drop on his white sleeve.

“I am so sorry,” you giggled.

Bucky pulled you close and leaned down to press his lips on your neck. He licked a stripe up your skin to gather the sauce. Your giggle turned into a moan when you felt his lips latch onto your skin.

“No fair, Bucky,” you moaned. He nibbled on your skin right over the spot where you needed him the most. “Wait, the food needs to go in the oven.”

Bucky pulled away and quickly placed the dish into the oven at the right timer. He turned to you and grabbed your waist so he could sit you on the counter. He leaned in again but you backed away before his lips could touch yours.

“Wait, we only have thirty minutes before the food is done.”

Bucky tilted his head to the side and did some math in his head.

“Six times.”

“What?”

“I can make you come six times before the oven goes off.”

You didn’t have a chance to say anything as he whisked you away to the bedroom.

Now

You open your eyes and see that it’s not a dream; Bucky found you and took you to one of his mansions. Being back here will mess with your head in a way that makes you think you’re not going to survive this. Still, you get out of bed and push down those feelings. You don’t want to feel this way. You want to be able to love him and go on dates without fearing what will happen if someone bad crosses your path.

You want to love him in the way you deserve but you’re not sure how.

Someone is cooking something delicious in the kitchen, and your stomach rumbles to let you know that it wants food. You put a cardigan on and head downstairs to the kitchen where a chef is cooking breakfast. You must have passed by ten of Bucky’s men, all armed and ready for anything that might come their way.

This makes you feel like you’re in a prison, not someone’s home. Will you ever feel at home here?

“Here you go, Miss Y/N,” the chef says and slides you a plate of food.

“Not hungry,” you sigh and push it away.

“Eat.”

You look to the left and see Bucky walk into the kitchen dressed in a suit. However, his white shirt is untucked and open revealing his toned stomach and chest that you love so much. His tie is slung over his shoulders and his hair is damp from his shower. He is practically half-naked in front of his own chef and men. This man has no modesty.

“You’re not my dad.”

Bucky pours himself a cup of coffee before turning to face you. He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he finishes getting ready. Your eyes follow his fingers as they work their way down his shirt. He tucks his shirt in and begins working on his tie next, and you snap your eyes up to his.

“I’m not in the mood to argue. Eat.”

“No.”

Bucky finishes with his tie before walking over to you. He is so intimidating while standing but with you sitting down next to him, it’s almost impossible not to shrink back into your seat like a little kid.

“You can be pissed at me all you want but you’re not skipping out on a meal. Eat.”

“Or what? You’ll force me?”

Time seems to slow down the longer he stares at you. Then, he grabs your jaw not super tightly before forcing your mouth open.

“Yes.”

You push him away and grab the fork to show him you’re complying with his request. He waits until you take two bites before leaving your side to tend to his coffee. Damn, these eggs are soft and fluffy.

“Happy?”

“I have to go work,” he says instead of answering your question. “I’ll be back later.”

“Off to kill someone?”

“I do own a business, you know,” Bucky sighs. “A business that will crumble if I’m not there.”

“Can I go with you?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

“You want to come with me?”

“Yeah. It beats being alone in this house with a bunch of strange men with large guns.”

“There are many more are work.”

“Will you let me come or not?” you sigh.

“Go get dressed,” he says after a beat, “after you finish eating.”

You quickly down the rest of your food before heading to your room to get dressed. Bucky waits patiently for you to finish before escorting you to one of his luxurious cars. He keeps the music low and maintains a reasonable speed. For someone who murders people, you’d think he’d want to speed all the time. No, he’s too busy thinking about you and driving carefully in order to protect you.

You might think he’s a monster but he’s never stopped loving you.

When Bucky arrives at his skyscraper of a building, he leads you inside with a hand low on your back. The receptionist sees him and flashes him a flirtatious smile. She subtly fixes her dress to make her boobs stand out, and you glare at her as you pass by.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes.”

“Good morning, Tate.”

He keeps it simple without so much as a look at her but that doesn’t stop her from trying to gain his attention. She looks at you and almost shrinks back into her seat from the glare you’re giving her. You two step onto the elevator and begin the journey to the top floor.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” you ask and look at him.

“You’re giving her the same look you gave every woman who tried to flirt with me. Remember that poor girl you made cry on our second date?”

“Shut up,” you snap. “There is no look.”

If you could, you’d wipe that smirk right off his face. Thankfully, he drops it for now. The higher you go, the more men with large guns there are. Bucky wasn’t kidding before. You know what kind of work he’s involved in but how much protection does one man need?

“I’m in meetings for most of the morning but you’re more than welcome to stay in here. My computer password is pisică.”

“Of course it is,” you laugh humorlessly.

“If you need anything, I am only down the hall.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

Bucky resists the urge to go over to you and kiss you. You’ll come around and he just needs to be patient. As soon as he leaves the room, you walk over to the giant window that overlooks the entire city. Damn, he has such a nice view. You take in his office and notice personal pictures on his desk.

All of them are of you. There is one with you two standing in front of a mirror with his hand around your throat. You thought it would be a good picture at the time. You had just taken three shots before going to dinner so you thought this picture was a good idea. Another one is of you at the beach he took you to. He bought it out so that you two could enjoy some privacy and he caught you soaking up as much sun as you possibly can. The third one is of you laughing because you had pulled a prank on Bucky and he couldn’t miss an opportunity to snap a photo of your smile.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you taste salt on your lips. You were so happy in these pictures. This was before you knew what Bucky did. This was before reality slapped you in the face. You’re not sure what to do but you know how you feel. You love him so damn much but you’re hating yourself for loving a murderer.

You sit at his desk and log into his computer. He must not have anything incriminating on his computer if he’s going to let you snoop without him in here. All this power but you’re not going to snoop in places you don’t belong in. He trusts you and after all this time, you’re not going to let that break.

Instead, you go to Amazon and smirk when you see what’s floating around in your cart. If Bucky is so rich, he won’t mind if you spend a few thousand dollars on shit you want but don’t need. It’s not like he’s going to miss the money.

Bucky’s phone pings at a notification from his bank. Someone spent over five thousand dollars on Amazon, and he smirks when he realizes you’re out there spending his money. You might be doing it to spite him but he loves it when you spend his money. He confirms the purchase through a text message before returning his attention to the many men inside the conference room.

Some of the men are involved with different mafia’s from around the country, some men are CEOs of different businesses, and some men are important in their perspective fields. All of them are interested in the weapons Bucky sells. He’s become so successful that he delivers to everyone across the country. They all flock to him like cattle.

“Gentlemen, I have an epo coming up soon in New York that will showcase the weapons I have for purchase. Of course, you’re more than welcome to come but the price is set. NO discoounts will be given.”

That sends some of the men in an uproar. They’ve been doing business with him for years and they’re still treated like first-time customers.

“Come on, Buck, don’t you think you’re being a bit unreasonable with your prices?” One of the Mafia men, Antonio, asks.

“You’re more than welcome to go somewhere else. Oh, wait, you can’t. I’m the only one with the shit you want so take it or leave it.”

Antonio shuts up knowing he can’t take Bucky on right now. Instead of fighting him, he leans back in his chair and stares at Bucky. The meeting continues on for another two hours as they discuss the weapons expo and Bucky’s telecommunicaiton sector that sells privacy for computers. Bucky looks at his watch and sees it’s almost lunch time so he decides to address one more thing before concluding this meeting.

“One last thing before this meeting is done.” He looks at one of the men who is one of the best drug lords in the couontry. “Race, tell your men to stay the fuck out of my goddamn bar. They’re brewing up trouble.”

“I can’t stop my men from going where they want to go,” Race shrugs.

“Maybe if one of them has a bullet in their heads, you’ll ge tthe message.”

Race rolls his eyes but knows better than to argue with Bucky. Before anyone can say anything, someone knocks on the door. Everyone turns their heads to you when you open the door and steps inside.

“Oh, sorry,” you sutter.

You turn to leave but Bucky stops you.

“Come here, pisică.” You walk further into the room and try to ignore all the stares you’re getting from the men. Bucky hates that they’re all looking at you like you’re a piece of meat but he doesn’t start a fight he knows he will win. Antonio keeps his eyes on your ass longer than the rest of them, making Bucky’s blood boil. When you get to him, he pulls you inot his lap despite the blush on your cheeks.

“Never be sorry for being where I am. What do you need?”

“I’m hungry,” you whisper, hoping no one else can hear him. “I wanted to go out and get lunch.”

“Take Steve with you.”

You look into his blue eyes in thought. You don’t tell him that you wanted to go out to lunch with him. Instead, you nod and get off his lap.

“Cute girl you got there, Barnes,” Antonio chirps. “You gonna pass her around or what?”

You freeze in your step, clearly uncomfortable with his comment. Before, Bucky was willing to let his wandering eyes slide. Now, he’s a dead man.

“Take Steve with you to lunch. Go,” Bucky says to you.

Thankfully, you don’t argue with him. As soon as you close the door behind you, you hear the clear sound of a gunshot. If his comment made you freeze, you’re fucking rock soldi now. Still, you peek into the room through the small window on the door. Antonio is slumped over in his chair with blood splattered on the wall behind him. He’s dead. Bucky killed him. You look up and lock eyes with Bucky who still holds the smoking gun.

He hates that you’re crying because of him.

You immediately turn and run from the room to where the elevators are. You barely get on when you hear Bucky’s voice call for you. You turn to him with tears running down your cheeks.

“No, I’m fine, Bucky. I shouldn’t have expected anything different.”

“I wasn’t going to let him live after what he said.”

The elevator doors start to close but you put your hand out to prevent them from doing so.

“That’s the problem with you, Bucky. Your immediate response to everything is death. I shouldn’t have come here. You should return to your meeting. I’ll have lunch alone.”

You let go of the elevator doors and continue to stare at him until the doors closing breaks your eye contact. Your heart is breaking because he is the best thing to have ever happened to you, but how can you ever get past something like this?

x

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[yumeboshi]

𝜗𝜚。．．❛ #02. XXX!

𐙚 topic。．hcs of random things that turn on hsr men

．。𝜗𝜚 cw。suggestive content, i wrote this with no brain, MINORS DNI

．。𝜗𝜚 a/n。aven, sunday, and blade. I wanna write for my bootyhill but i need to study him more to get a grip of him lol

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ rebuking his argument in a fight

。i js know he would go crazy when you do this 。he’d find people who just agree with him as boring. To him it may look even insincere 。but you? countering his smartly crafted arguments with irresistible logic with your pretty brain, glaring at him as you do with those adorable eyes? 。this man would go from being mad to being horny. tbh he would have probably already been horny in the argument 。nobody can be more masochistic than he is

“ARE YOU STUPID?” You glare at your boyfriend who looks nonchalant as he idly examines the coin between his fingers. “Fucking look at me. Do you know what happens when you join forces with them? You’re just risking the IPC and it will eventually lead to your unfortunate befall.”

You continue barreling on furiously with concrete points. Every time you prove him wrong, his eyes dance and he tries his hardest to bite back the grin that plays at his lips as you rant on. You are so perfect, he thinks- he is nonetheless impressed at you, your wondrous little brain. Something snaps inside of him when he sees you focused on derailing his points, your lips moving quickly to spit out syllables. He feels a loud moan caught in his throat.

“I get it, I’m sorry, princess, I won’t do it.” he suddenly surrenders and you eye him suspiciously as he advances, hands sneaking up to your back. “Let’s talk this out in bed, ‘m gonna apologize to you there.” He says softly, giving you lovely kisses along your neck but the way his fingers dig into your skin lets you know he’s not going to wait any longer.

And you will be confused as hell, because although you did win the argument, you feel like you just lost something else, a hidden little game he never taught you the rules to.

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ whipped cream on your lips

。hear me out… i have a gut feeling he likes it a little too much 。ik it’s totally random but he will go nuts when he sees you bite down a particularly creamy cake that promptly smears its remains over your mouth- he tries to think of something more dignified, but he just can’t. His poor brain keeps returning to the most vulgar visuals of you. 。he will always point out whatever you had near your mouth when you two eat, because he’s such a clean freak, but anything with cream, specifically white whipped cream, he will be unable to comment on it and fall weirdly silent to he point you are confused why you not hear his scolding to wipe your mouth. 。he’ll just watch you eat dessert with a smile on your face as you savor the taste innocently. Unfortunately his brain is not, and he will start to feel his cock struggle under the you. 。”you have cream over your mouth, sweetheart. should i clean it for you?” he’ll sound restrained, like he’s being choked but his expression doesn’t waver. 。and after he found out his new obsession, he will literally only buy you huge whipped cream cakes for dessert.

“THE CAKE HERE IS SO GOOD.” You savor the taste happily and dig into the whipped cream cake and eat without much care. “Where’s it from?”

Sunday is too busy staring at you to register that. The creamy ring around your pink lips. It bothers him in a bad way. It’s making him feel like he is out of breath. His wings flicker wildly like a cooling fan, trying to blow off the heat that suddenly started to build inside his stomach like a raging primal flame that’s trapped by his own conscience.

You tap his shoulder gently and he snaps back to reality and tries to stare at your eyes instead, yes, lovely eyes, he thinks- your words phase in and out as he gulps, darting his eyes back to the cake.

“…the brand? The cake brand?” You ask again, frowning at his silence.

“Ah, yes, sorry, sweetheart. I was thinking of something else for a moment.” He breathlessly apologizes, the words spilling out a little too quickly like an excuse that makes your frown deepen in confusion— he closes his eyes and opens them again so the heat will ebb away. But his plans are obliterated when you take a portion of the cake and eat it, all while looking at him in the eye with curious doe eyes.

That’s when he can’t restrain himself anymore. He suddenly seizes your chin with his gloved hand, making you squeal in surprise when he practically devours your lips, licking up the cream residue around them roughly before shoving it inside your mouth with his tongue. The sweet cream melts when it gets to your mouth, mixing with his saliva that dips down your chin to make messy thick lines.

“It was from a shop at Golden Hour. I hope you like the taste,” he’d say as if he didn’t just feast on your mouth like a starved beast. “Me personally, i think it’s a tad too sweet.”

#BྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིLADE ⇢ treating his wounds

。it’s ironic because Blade doesn’t want to be healed at all 。but how could he refuse you you’re frantically at his door with an emergency kit, worry written all over you- you are like a cute puppy that keeps following him around. 。he lets you do it reluctantly at first, grumbling about it inwardly 。but when you lift up his shirt with no hesitation to put gauze to soak in the blood, his muscles tense visibly, when your touch ghosts over his skin like tiny little lilies blooming in their wake. 。what have you done to him? He feels nothing but tension and something he didn’t want to register, something a little too pleasant to him. 。and at some point he will actually look forward to having his would treated by you. He still likes pain, but he likes your touch drifting over his bruised skin like an innocent butterfly way more.

“DOES IT HURT?” You softly pat the ointment around another fresh scar on his broad chest. It pains you to see that most of the scars are near his heart. You sigh like a worried mother. “You worry me.”

“I enjoy it,” he grunts in response, but his brain ran a quick recap. Enjoy what? The pain? Or your smooth touch?

“Stay still,” you say, and he does, as you carefully squeeze in another ointment into an ugly looking scar. His eyes never leave you the whole time, his muscles tense at the pain but otherwise he’s relaxed. His intimidating stare makes you scared a little, considering this mysterious man didn’t speak his mind often.

“I think that’s it,” you say, quickly trying to lower Blade’s shirt back- but the man grabs your wrist mid-action. You jump, confused. His eyes are unreadable but he states, “You’re not done.”

you frown in puzzlement. “I double-checked, im pretty sure I didn’t miss a spot.”

He lifts his shirt up and with his bandaged finger, cuts open the scar you just treated for him, making it ooze another layer of fresh blood around the dried wound. His lips form a rare smirk as he looks at your wide-eyed stare.

“There, you have a new wound to work on.”

He will do that until you are out of ointment, and the next day he will come visit you first this time with another set of fresh scars.

[tubbytarchia]

Been thinking about the Jimmy dating sim all day and night.

Possible in game things I thought of briefly in my deluded half awake two in the morning craziness:

-You spend all of your money you've built up in game on a gift to make Jimmy like you more. He ends up breaking it very soon after in an incident that wasn't his fault. He thinks you'll hate him for breaking it and you have to convince him it wasn't his fault while he tries to convince you it is his fault and he's an idiot.

-Jimmy ends up hurt at one point, and refuses explanation nor help the first time you ask. You can either ask him again if he's sure he's okay or leave him be because he's been through enough. If you ask him the second time he seems more hesitant to say he's sure he's alright. The third time, he starts explaining what happened. He says you ought to be leaving as you have other things to do but you insist it's alright and help him. You're able to help him fix himself up. If you don't ask again,

-Jimmy will constantly make dismissive comments about how certain people in his life do things to him that aren't okay. You do not get a choice on whether you can comment on these things, they just come and go.

-You have the choice to check in on how he's doing or talk to him about the day ahead of you every morning. If you check in on how he's doing he builds trust faster. If you talk about the day ahead of you, he's more likely to become distant towards you.

(Based on observations of Jimmy's character throughout the life series. Especially his tendency to say strange things to get people's attention, because otherwise people won't pay attention to him)

Yes these are all very fitting. This is exactly what a Jimmy dating sim looks like in my head. I love the incorporation of lack of player action with the "he will say these things and you get no choice on whether or not to comment on them". The psychological horror of it... The desire to be able to say something when the game won't let you, the desire to have input, like you're supposed to, but you can't... But maybe later in the game, it might, if you've been building trust...?

I really would love for it to be full of really intricate choices where the right answers get terribly muddied and aren't at all obvious. Like when he gets hurt, you have to decide whether to keep asking him if he's okay and weigh if you're better off leaving him alone and if asking him a second or third time will just make him feel worse. Where sometimes the better looking options will lead to a less desired result instead because Jimmy's not consistent in the ways he reacts, but that's reasonable and you can still continue progressing towards the desired result even with a few hiccups. I'd imagine there aren't even "right" options a lot of the time and there's nothing you can do to help it. That sometimes Jimmy will react badly or dismissively regardless, essentially proving his self deprecating points, but you still stick around and keep talking to him, and that keeps the game progressing towards the goal of helping Jimmy feel content in itself

Also that last comment about Jimmy's tendency to say strange things to get people's attention is a really interesting thought, I've never heard of anyone express this or considered this before. I need to chew on that for awhile... thank you for the suggestions. I wish I was an actual dev to any degree lol

[morverenmaybewrites]

Hi! I'm so glad your back, Pizza Girl is my favorite fanfic of all time!!!

I have a question, about Jason's life as a adopted son of Bruce Wayne, particularly his relationship with Batfamily (especially Dick and Barbara).

During Jasons POV, he often reflects on this time as being warm and homely, easly more comfortable than his previous conditions of living (duh, but still, positive aspects). Buuut, while thinking about his relationship with members of the family, as much as he appreciates the company and patience, he often remembers feeling scared of being thrown away if he makes a mistake, and rarely mentions bonding time with his siblings.

But on the other hand, from Dick's POV, (that I think is more reliable, because Jason's POV is influenced by his abandonment related trauma), it's painfully, heartbreakingly obvious that he loves Jason like a little brother, and that both before and now he still cares and wishes to have a better relationship with him. Similarly Barbara, who's uncondicionably there for him.

So i was thinking, do you have any headcannons for how was their time together before the kidnapping? Its mentioned that it was hard for Jason to open up, but was there time when they managed to do this? What did they like about each other, did they have favorite activities to do together in their civilian lives?

(I feel like I'm asking for fluff but in reality it's tragedy knowing what inevitably happened)

Ayt, I had been putting off answering these for a while because I had a hard time articulating my thoughts on the matter. I still have a hard time articulating my thoughts, so I'm going to try and break it down.

Jason's Relationship with Bruce

I think for the most part, Jason's relationship with Bruce was informed by the fact that while Bruce deeply loved Jason, he didn't love him in the way Jason needed.

By the time the two of them met, Jason was already deeply scarred by his experiences. He was born into one of Gotham"s poorest districts, to two parents who were neglectful at best and abusive at worst.

So when he was plucked off the grimy streets of Park Row and placed into the Wayne Manor, and got told that now, he is another man's son. I imagine the change would have rattled anyone, let alone a street rat who was used to just barely surviving.

Suddenly, there was food whenever he wanted.

Suddenly, he had a bed, the sheets warm and clean and the mattress so soft that he's scared it will swallow him.

Suddenly, he had a family.

And oh, how deeply hard it was to believe that it was all for him.

I imagine he spent most of those early days waiting for the rug to be pulled out underneath him. For him to wake up one day to find himself back in Crime Alley, an orphan once more.

So a lot of his time in Wayne Manor was actually colored by paranoia that, eventually, they will get bored of him, like a rich socialite getting bored of a yapping dog when it goes out fashion.

He spent most of his time trying to prove himself to Bruce, being the best at what he can be, because you don't throw useful things away.

(It does not help that during this time, Bruce was still reeling from his fight with Dick, and ended up comparing Jason to Dick a lot, something that deeply damaged Jason.).

I think that while Bruce deeply Jason, he just wasn't able to provide the sort of loving environment one should provide to a damaged child. He gave him a home, he gave him food, and shelter, and I imagine that if Jason was the type to ask for things (he wasn't), Bruce would have given it to him without a second thought.

But he also gave him the Robin suit, and a responsibility that was, in truth, far too heavy to place on the shoulders of a child. I think Jason probably treated being Robin as a way to "earn" his position into Wayne Manor.

Batman, after all, needed a sidekick.

And Jason was desperate to give them a reason to let him stay.

But I think, that Jason's time with the Joker also colored how he perceives Bruce (how can it not). It made him forget that they had good days, too. And a lot of them.

Because Bruce did care about Jason. He was patient whenever Jason would explode into fits of anger, he let him have the run of the library, they'd talk about their favorite books, ways to better their arsenal. If they had time, I think the relationship would have turned into something beautiful.

If they had time, I think they would have been the two people in the family who understood each other best.

(But sadly, they did not have time. And these days, the memory of him makes Jason run cold.).

Jason's Relationship with Dick

They actually didn't have much of a relationship! It's something that Dick regrets and wishes to fix.

I headcanon that Jason was adopted shortly after Dick's fight with Bruce and his subsequent departure with Bludhaven. During this time, I think that Dick was busy trying to establish his own life, find his own identity. He didn't have much time to come back to Wayne Manor and get to know his new brother.

Whenever he did come by though, Dick did make an effort with Jason, and I think that mattered.

It mattered too, that he and their father were as different as night and day. While Bruce was subdued and muted, Dick was animated, chattering constantly. Asking questions.

On rare occasions, he'd take Jason out to someplace fun, joking that Bruce's idea of fun would be going through the criminal files.

He was a good big brother, when he was there. But most of the time, he was not. And that made it easier for the Joker to make Jason believe that he didn't care.

Jason's relationship with Barbara

I think that, aside from Alfred, Barbara is the closest to Jason.

While Dick was busy trying to establish himself as Nightwing and Bruce was being...Bruce, it was Barbara who took it upon herself to be Jason's mentor.

She'd often look out for him during patrols, give him pointers during training, and she'd also make it a point to make sure that Jason would be able to relax.

If the Batfam ever organized a movie night or an outing to the city park, it was because of her.

A part of Jason definitely remembers this, which is why at the start of the story, Barbara is the only one he bothers keeping in contact with.

[tenderhungering]

Have you noticed how women are used in the film? Their suffering, grief, ambitions and even deaths. It all benefits the men.

yes, i have! i think it was during the first time i watched with two of my friends that we mentioned how fucked up it seemed to bring in lilly. she was an abused child in circumstances that june describes as inhumane and now she's supposed to come on and chat about said abuse.

to better delve into this though, i'm going to do a little ramble on each female character (i've been meaning to this regardless so this question has me excited!)

Lilly

as i mentioned before, lilly, to the public, is an abused child who has been rescued from a cult and is now the subject of dr. june's book. i believe that june really did care for lilly but she in a way, was still benefiting from her by writing about her. something to study while parenting. reminds me a bit about parents who write about raising troubled children.

jack brings them onto the show almost because he knows how shocking this is to audiences, to have survived what lilly did. i think that fear and shame but also desire kiss on the mouth. the public both fears the occult but want to learn more, there is some sort of fascination with the idea of someone being in it and being able to get out of it (would people do the same?). lilly is a spectacle. she is to go from not knowing the outside world to standing in front of the camera and expecting to behave like a typical girl her age. it's almost like she has to prove herself well-adjusted after her trauma.

june explains to her that everyone having a demon inside of them, acknowledging that lilly's might be a little more literal but because the demon serves as a stark reminder of her time in the cult, it's similar to someone working around their triggers. everyone has hurt in them. like a therapist helping you work with carrying that hurt rather than just suppressing it. clearly the demon leaves lilly exhausted, upset and feel not like herself. she's crying after her scene and asking june as to why she's hurt her, and apologizing for whatever happened when Mr. Wriggles was there. she is not in control of her actions. but jack wants more. he's momentarily sympathetic but realizes that it's getting him higher ratings. the more hurt is displayed, the happier than the media is.

even in the final scene, when the demon possesses her, we can see it in her face that she's distraught. confused. but all the camera does is zoom in on her expression,

June

june is so intriguing to me as a character because it's almost as though her instinct toward things is a calm and collected behavior, one that thinks of the ethics of it, whether anyone will get hurt, but her decisions are so easily swayed by jack. and he knows exactly what to tell her too. Everyone finally take you seriously. It is the 70s so there's no surprise that misogyny is rampant (though the 70s did introduce the second wave of feminism, she may be a representation of challenging attitudes as well). june is a very passionate woman in her studies, she'd be considered an expert in the field but this is almost immediately dismissed as soon as she's introduced as a doctor. you call yourself that. is that what you believe you are? can you prove you are?

i think it makes june feel better if everyone has a distance from lilly - hence writing a book about her. you can know lilly through the pages. you don't need to make her suffer for views then, you can educate yourself on what was happened to her and understand she's hurt more than necessary. she might've felt the need to write the book for them both. lilly need to be understood and emphasized with as more than just a "child of d'abo". but jack invites her with the idea of simply talking about said book, one of her biggest accomplishments and instead wants to treat them like some sort of circus act. do a trick for me, june! you know how to! it's not enough that you tell me you know, you have to show me, you have to prove yourself to me, the camera makes it real.

it is that logic that sometimes makes her feel inclined to prove herself. and sometimes this is at the cost of her own morals.

Minnie

my beautiful wife,,,

i love minnie. so much. i've written a bit about how i think she was prior to her death in other asks but i never quite touch so much on how much she was exploited by both jack and the industry.

to be ill is a personal affair. and it was on all the tabloids whenever minnie was diagnosed with cancer (even if she did not smoke! i mention this because while smoking might contribute to lung cancer, it did feel like an odd mention that they'd pay so much attention to whether or not she did? it might've been to emphasize how sudden this all was but i'd also like to throw in that perhaps she was also just taking care of her voice! she was in theatre.) she has no privacy to mourn the gradual loss of her life. some people believe the cult was implied to be the one who had made this illness manifest for her which is awful in its own regard and more so when one considers the fact they did it to get to jack. almost as though minnie is an extension of himself and not his own person.

jack inviting her to the show could very well be done just because he wanted to invite his wife (though it does feel a bit odd he waited till she was sick to do this. maybe it was some sort of public gesture of affection, they both live to entertain, it's their job) but there's something saddening about the ordeal. it's almost as though knowing minnie was sick was not enough, the public had to see her in order to have some sort of confirmation. and the immediate comment about inviting her over being followed how even then, this wasn't enough to surpass johnny carson is morbid to say the least. almost as though minnie had just been used as a way to gain better ratings. sympathy ratings. i don't want to remove any agency of minnie, it might have been her decision to go on the show but the public's reaction to is that is what is more concerning.

even her death was simply a sacrifice. she was nothing more than a missing puzzle piece to have jack move forward (or downwards?). something that would benefit jack. as all the women in the film have been. each with such distinct personalties and motives to what keeps them going (or who are still amidst figuring out what they'd want out of life) being only part of a larger scheme where men are the benefactors. the grove only allowed men. the cult birthed sacrifices from their women. women are a stepping stone. a chess piece. something that needs to bleed for someone who demands it.

i love writing about how compelling these characters are! so sorry if sometimes my ramblings feel leaning more towards just dissection rather than downright analysis! i hope it gave some insight though!

[whump-n-comfort]

when you read a fic that gives you a hyper-specific whump scenario that you know would either A.) take forever to find in another story or B.) hasn't been written at all so the obvious conclusion is that you have to write it yourself

[sybbi]

People will see the Star of David and be like "Is this Zionist propaganda?"

[bumblingbabooshka]

                   Tuvok “If you know that I’m lonely” - FUR

[seraphdreams]

JJK MEN AS YOUR PERSONAL TRAINER. | TOJI FUSHIGURO, GOJO SATORU, CHOSO KAMO, SUGURU GETO.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. having private sessions with the men prove to be an experience. what type of trainer are each of them?

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. smut, edging, degradation, praise, dry humping, fellatio, switch!choso, overstimulation, emo boy!choso, cervix fucking, unprotected sex, they are all whores. mdni <3

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 3.1k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! oh em gee ?? headcanon format ? yup! i originally wrote this as a little joke since i started pilates but then my mind wandered and it wasn’t a joke anymore. other than that, ino was supposed to be on the list but he couldn’t make it :( something about being busy .. regardless, comment / reblog if u like ! it would make my day, thank u ♡

TOJI — THE CORRUPT TRAINER.

there must’ve been a clear distinction as to why your trainer only allowed sessions from 9pm up until midnight, but your desperation when it came to relentlessly searching for a personal trainer didn’t leave enough room in your mind to think deeper about the true nature of its shadiness. all you needed was a spotter, and toji’s services claimed to provide just that.

and what happens when you combine height, a monsterous build, superhuman stamina, and a handsome face? well, you get toji fushiguro in all his abhorrent glory.

his chiseled body virtually doubled your frame with biceps the size of your head, shoulders wide enough to emphasize the narrowness of his waist, and veins crawling up his limbs even when the muscles weren’t flexed. a mean looking man with a scar over his mouth like some battered veteran. whatever he got into during the day was truly nothing you’d want to take part in.

inviting him over to your home gym was one thing, but it was looking to be another when his “help” took the form of sensuality; his large hands running along the back of your thighs when he’d seemingly fold you over with your legs on either side of your head for warm-up stretches, or even the occasional groping of your ass when it came down to squats, he was barely doing his job, what you paid a hefty price for, and yet you loved every bit of it.

“c’mon, you can take more of it, cant’cha?” toji’s gruff voice goads, watching the way your tiny cunt struggles with swallowing the head of his wrist-thick, bulbous cock. you were put in the awkward position of doggy, yet another one of his sessions derailed and he deemed this new workout could help you build up some much needed endurance. you were going to need it if you planned on keeping him around.

it surely seems that way when you’re practically running from the pleasure he pistons into you, thick cock kissing your cervix with each skillful, angled thrust of his. large hands were wrapped around your waist, keeping you in place for him — because if there was one thing your personal trainer was strict about, it was form. and your form was beyond perfect.

“‘s just too good.” you mindlessly whined, attempting your hardest to grip onto the thin cushion of the yoga mat beneath you. toji lets out a deep scoff at your vocables, driving his hips against your ass once more, this time a bit sharper with a hint of fervor as its aftertaste. “and you’ve been training with me for how long now?” his question came out in a mocking tone as his lips stretched wide in a crooked smile, that of a statement rather than a query.

“t-two weeks .. fuck.” you respond, mind going hazy from the gaining intensity of his potent movements. the feeling was all too much, it came as no surprise when pleasure began to surge from your spine to coil at your core, building up that high you've been chasing for the past hour, that grumpy ol’ toji continued to rip away from you.

pressing a heavy hand to the small of your back, he arches you forward, groaning at the sight of how swiftly you position yourself for him, your face pushed against the mat.

maybe his training has paid off. . “two weeks and you’re still struggling to take my cock?” he pulled your hips back against his, leaving you defenseless in the ministrations. “guess i need to train this pretty little hole of yours more often.”

with the end of his sentence, he snakes his thick arm around your waist, the pad of his thumb finding your achy, puffy clit, rubbing the nub in tight, harsh circles. if your moans weren’t already loud enough, you were sure the whole town could hear you by now, crying out his name like no tomorrow while your legs trembled with your impending orgasm. “‘m cumming! so hard!” you cry, drooling into the mat as he fucks you through your orgasm.

it wasn’t until soon after that he finally reached his high, sending hot and sticky ropes of cum into your womb. not once had a session with toji ended with him shooting his cum in a more responsible way, with a rubber. it was clear to you since the very first time you allowed his fantasies to come to fruition — toji didn’t believe in condoms.

your body went lax as soon as he pulled out, and he tucked his cock back into his pants, hovering over your sad frame with an amused smirk on his scarred lips.

“good session. i expect $800 wired to my account by the mornin’.”

GOJO — THE ENABLING TRAINER.

when you first showed up to the private room of your local gym in search of your assigned instructor for the night a.k.a “the strongest,” you were expecting some big burly man with a cocky attitude — someone you didn’t particularly get along with. but much to your surprise, instead, he was handsome; fluffy white strands of hair that strayed upwards and a million dollar smile with just the charisma, the charm to back it up.

gojo stood over 6 feet tall, and although he was on the lankier side, there was no denying the lean muscles that peeked through his skintight black top. he smiled, throwing a loose cloth over his broad shoulders.

“you ready to get started?”

your eyes greedily took him in, scanning over the finer details of his gorgeous build. it wasn’t until about thirty seconds of daydreaming about what he’d look like unclothed that you finally gave him a response in the form of a nod and hum.

of course satoru wasn’t an idiot, he could tell from how dazed you were during the first few minutes of instruction that you were focused on something else, not that he minds though, it’s truly an honor that a girl as pretty as you is capable of fawning over him, just as many others do.

after having to shake your thoughts whenever it came to watching him take a large swig from his water, droplets of the liquid streaming down his chin to graze his prominent adam's apple, or the soft appraises he’d coo when you finally got the hang of his workouts, it was the end of yet another vigorous session with him, sweat dripping from your chin down to your chest that was scantily clad in a baby pink sports bra. you held on taut to your water bottle as satoru carried conversation with you.

“you improved so much in just an hour. i’m proud.”

his praises barely reached your ears before you looked at him with adoration glossed over those pretty eyes — there was something about him that you just couldn’t get over, but you knew you needed him badly. you dabbed perspiration from your forehead with a matching pink towel, soft smile forming on your doll-like features.

“thank you,”

he nods his head slightly before starting, “you seemed a bit distracted today, though. something on your mind?” his query pulled you from your gojo-induced hypnosis, causing you to blink away the embarrassment pooling up within you. were you truly that obvious?

“hm? there’s nothing, i’m fine,” your reply came out low and sheepish while your eyes struggled to find anywhere else to settle besides those bright baby blues. he took it upon himself to inch closer to you, studying your features until you gasped softly once your back hit the wall. “nothing?” he asks for confirmation, and you affirm. “nothing.”

“all you gotta do is use your words if you need me.”

gojo’s hands found their way at your thighs, creeping them upwards underneath the thin spandex of your shorts. his touch felt hot against your skin, each brush of his fingertips along the expanse of your inner thigh causing shivers to trickle down your spine while he watched with mirth at your pitiful attempt to keep your whines at bay.

“i think .. i think i need you.”

with that, satoru smirked and lifted your leg up just enough so that it fell over his arm. his lips met yours with a salacious that only the whorest of whores could possess, skilled tongue angling its way inside your mouth to gently clash with yours in the sweetest harmony that had you buckling underneath the frame of his body.

it must’ve been a spur of the moment when you found yourself rutting your hips up in search for satoru’s, a pitchy moan sounded into the kiss when he matches your ministrations, grinding his sweatpant clad and half-hard, leaking length into the seat of your shorts; creating the most delicious sensation as the tip nudged against your clit.

his free hand took purchase at your cheek, his thumb rubbing ever so gently against the heated skin while his movements increased in greediness. your mind’s too hazy to make out anything besides the pleasure and build up of your orgasm — so much so, that it pulled you back to reality as soon as it hit, your sloppy kisses coating gojo’s soft lips in a thin sheen and the seat of your shorts sopping wet from the release of your high.

yet, gojo kept at it until he too came to a falter, cumming an ample amount in his sweats while groaning deep into your mouth. he separated from the kiss for just a split second before he took it upon him to goad,

“we can add 30 more minutes and i’ll give you more than just a taste.”

CHOSO — THE INTIMIDATING TRAINER.

a pierced tongue, some tattoos running along both veined arms, and a deep, monotonous voice were a recipe for your timidness when it came to the kamo, who you’d invited over for your very first home training session. it didn’t help that he was on the quieter side, responding to whatever small talk you’d make with one or two words while his intense eyes would follow every move you’d make as he’d help with your form.

he truly wasn’t a bad guy, or so you thought. even now, during your session with him, his praises were appropriate, he wasn’t too handsy nor did he seem to have any ill intent; being with him felt surprisingly comfortable and refreshing just as the crisp, cold water you two were currently drinking, made fresh from your refrigerator’s tap.

“was it too intense?” he’d asked in regard to the exercises you had just completed. intense was an understatement, you didn’t know how you could move your body in such ways that you did, which wouldn’t have been possible without his expertise. choso set the chilled glass of water down onto your coffee table, feeling coy from sitting on your couch, something he’d never done even with his regulars, and in response, you shook your head at the query, settling yourself by his side.

there was truly no denying how absolutely stunning you were, like some angelic being brought to him from the heavens up above in the form of the sweetest thing he’s ever met. he was afraid that if he blinked too hard, you’d vanish.

the more his eyes focused on your lips when you talked, how you’d massage the sore muscles of your thighs and even let out cute whines because of the fact, the more he found it harder to contain his thoughts, rapidfire in his mind. those perverted thoughts that only some horny teenager could have, not a well off adult like him.

yet, it wasn’t enough to stop him from getting hard in his sweats, a dark grey patch spreading at the crotch, what he’d hoped you’d mistake as spilt water.

“shit,” with that of a husky sigh, he ran his hand over his face, tinges of pink battering the tattooed scar across his nose and cheeks. “i’m sorry.”

oblivious to his situation, you were quick to express your inquiry. “sorry about wh- oh.” the head of his cock practically peeked through the barrier of the hem of his sweats while he made a futile effort to cover himself with one of your pillows once you had realized.

he looked cute like that, embarrassed by something so natural that it even spurred on your arousal, the thought of him getting worked up over you doing virtually nothing. “i-it’s okay.. i can help you if you want.” you offer, moving your position to sit between his thighs.

violet hued eyes widened from your newfound boldness, the clearing of his throat being the only true source of sound he could make in that moment.

“nah, nah. it’s-“ before he could inch out the words, you were drawing featherlight circles at his tip over the fabric, causing his breath to hitch and resolve to falter.

choso wasn’t someone who’d allow himself to be in such a pathetic situation, yet the thought of you carrying out his perfect porn plot fantasy was all he needed for that internal morality to fly straight out the window.

you chuckled at the way he hiked himself up when you finally took him from his bottoms and into your hot, wet mouth. just the sight of his cock disappearing past soft, glossy pink lips has his temperature rising, feeling as though he could pass out.

it’s hazy for him — your hand at the base, the rhythmic bobbing of your head slowly while gradually picking up speed. he never would’ve thought the job he took on for extra cash to fund his college textbooks would end up with someone as gorgeous as you giving him a chance. every pump of your hand around what couldn’t fit into your mouth had him groaning, bucking his hips up as gently as he could without battering the back of your throat.

though, he wouldn’t mind if he did.

staving off a gag, you ultimately increased your pace, determined to get him off while your other hand fondled his plump balls.

from the faint touches alone, he could feel his high approaching, embarrassingly quicker than usual. yet, he couldn’t help it when you started to grow sloppy, a mix of spit and precum dribbling down his shaft.

“w-wait, fuck.. ‘m gonna.”

it took no time for him to shoot his seed into your awaiting throat, his head thrown back against the headrest while he bucked his hips to jettison every last drop. you swallowed all he had to offer before pulling away, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

maybe he wasn’t as intimidating after all.

GETO — THE CHARMING TRAINER.

you were his favorite. you had to be. even in the long line of women waiting to have their own turn with him, you were always a top contender. he had always made time for you, and you alone.

geto’s popularity made perfect sense in your mind. he was tall, handsome with narrow features and dragon tattoos strung along both arms, a man ahead of his time. not to mention, his docile, gentle demeanor. he was charming as all get out and you were beyond aware of your superstar status of being the only one he wanted.

“are we actually going to get some training done or is there something else you want to do?” he straps his fingerless gloves around his palm, tank top tight around his torso, carving out each and every trace of his abs while looking over you, a pleasant smile quirked at his lips.

you felt sheepish under his sharp gaze, a feeling that comes all too natural with expert trainer, suguru geto. “i’m fine with whatever you have in mind, sugu.”

if you didn’t know any better, you’d swore you saw his cheeks dust in the lightest shade of pink at the endearing nickname. you were cute, too fucking cute and perhaps, that was the reason he kept you around.

“i’m thinking we test that stamina ‘nd see if you can hold up riding me?” he hooks his finger under your chin, tilting your head up just slightly. “no help, all on your own.” in all honesty, you could definitely take up his challenge. how hard could it be to take some dick?

or so you thought.

“fuck, sugu! ‘s too much!”

you wouldn’t want to be caught dead in the miserable state that you were in but it ultimately did seem as though geto’s lessons had gotten you nowhere. the tip of his cock wasn’t even an inch past your cunt while you rested your hands on his broad shoulders, pathetically trying to take what was the easiest part.

he smirked at you, resting his hands behind his head. “i’m not helping, princess. i meant it.”

you continued to try and sink yourself down onto his unreasonably thick cock, a soft crack of a whine tumbling past parted lips when your pussy engulfed another half inch of him. “but-“

“if i have to help you, we’re not finishing until you’re a mess.” he grits, not harsh enough to come off as daunting but stern enough to warn you. yet, the warning fell to deaf ears when you began to whorishly beg pleas of “help me, sugu. help me.”

from that, he let out a low groan, his hands on your waist sinking you all the way down to the base before he gained stability, flattening his feet onto the floor and fucking his cock into your fluttering cunt.

with the way he moves, you were almost positive you had the wind knocked out of you from those first few thrusts alone. soft babbles resonated throughout the room while you clung to his body like it’d comfort you in the hell that was his potent ministrations.

you felt far more sensitive than you ever felt, white hot pleasure coiling within you in no time, your pussy tightening around his shaft in such a suffocating way, geto felt as though he couldn’t breathe either. “s-so tight, princess. i know you wanna cum, cum for me, baby.” he goads through a strained voice, his thumb now working between your folds to find purchase at your clit, rubbing the puffy nub in moderate circles.

“if you do t-that, i might—“

and before you knew it, you were gushing around his pretty cock, face twisted in the prettiest picture of pleasure. the aftershocks of your orgasm were way more intense as you were fucked to overstimulation, a sly grin on his lips.

“told you we weren’t stopping, darling.”

[satoruhour]

geto reaction to you wearing only his shirt

OVERSIZED NEVER LOOKED THIS GOOD

a/n: lore. a lot of lore. i always cannot help but write backstories. ure gonna have to bear w/ me SORRY !!!! based off of this drawing that i wanted to write sum about but then i thought why not combine it w/ this prompt. i went a little insane on this mb / tagging @papersirens @crysugu @getousex @hyomagiri @slttygeto, who else r geto fuckers

wc: 2.9k

warnings: roommate!geto, soft dom!geto, mutual pining, reader steals one of geto’s shirts, geto is also a little bit of a pervert, mentions of panty sniffing but geto doesn’t do it, m! and f! masturbation, fingering, clit stimulation, oral / cunnilingus, slight nipple play, spitting (on ur pussy), finger sucking, p -> v sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

geto was a sweet roommate.

he’s always topping up on supplies when you needed things, pushing away your hand whenever you wanted to pay. where he got all his money, you weren’t even sure. geto cleaned the house, he cooked dinner, hell, it was like you two were married at this point. even gojo had asked if he would get together with someone who wasn’t you (and of course, in classic gojo way, he was skilled in asking it in a roundabout way), geto’s firm and abrupt “no” was enough to make gojo grin from ear to ear.

even he wasn’t sure when it all started — you were always friends with the three of them, gojo and shoko and himself, participating in their antics and getting in trouble in high school. there was hardly any dull times between the four, looking at you through the lens of a friend. but when those lens started to turn blurry and black, seeing you in a new light of tighter outfits and a sweet smile that looked like it contained something hidden, suguru genuinely hoped it would all go away.

it’s not like he thought he was unattractive, but you wouldn’t go for a guy like him, someone hidden behind gojo’s bright personality or shoko’s satirical, cool demeanour. he was oh so oblivious, however, turning an unintentional blind eye when you’re hanging with gojo for the day but only because you wanted to know what birthday present would be best for him, or having a movie night with shoko only to disregard cher horowitz on the television just to ask if geto would like your new nails and hair.

the two of you were so dense when either of you were hanging with them, going on for so long even after taking a gap year for shoko’s overseas med school attachment. they assumed the two of you would’ve done something then, but it was stagnant, dry, that gojo almost wants to take matters into his own hands; so when you’re begging geto if you could room with him, since he lived near the university you were all attending together,

“suguru, pleasee— i wouldn’t wanna travel for hours on end just for like a two hour lecture.”

shoko smiles, gojo laughs, slinging an arm around you, “help your poor friend out, suguru.”

gojo torments him to no end. he doesn’t regret it one bit when your arms are thrown around his neck in a bear hug in thanks, feeling himself get hard just from the way your breasts press against his chest.

“yeah,” it’s said breathily, softly, “it’s no problem.”

suguru thanked god you hadn’t wanted to move in that very same day, cause all that could be heard throughout the small apartment was him pumping his cock to a polaroid picture of you, calling out your name softly as he came all over the photo of your bright smile. he didn’t need the fan that night, the guilt was enough to burn him alive. and after, he acted like nothing happened, except the many, many times he’d think of taking you on every surface of the house, suffering silently for an entire year as the two of you fell into routine day by day.

today might change, however, when geto hangs the last piece of clothing, something that was hardly a difficult task, but it proved to be the hardest thing to date when he’d spot the bras and underwear lying at the bottom of the basket each time he prepared to do laundry. geto wills himself to wash, hang it, and get out but he cannot tear his eyes away from the unmistakable dark spot at the centre of your panties before it’s thrown in, taunting him to just pick it up to breathe in your scent, to do something to defile it, to let his desires take over. but he wasn’t gojo, no, he’d wait all the time in the world for the right time, even if it was at the expense of a throbbing cock and flushed cheeks.

“(y/n), ’m going to the store, you want…” his voice trails off when the drawer before him shows only one clean shirt left, sighing when his favourite shirt has gone missing, again. he knows it simply by the missing tag on the top, cut off terribly by your hands on a drunk movie night. he was thankful you missed his skin by an inch, but he cherishes that shirt and night dearly. geto simply brushes off the mishap, grabbing a sweatshirt instead.

there’s a rap on your door that quells all movement from your side, fabric clutched tightly between your fingers that it hurt just a little.

“(y/n)? love? you okay?”

“y— yeah, i’m fine sugu. what did you say earlier?”

“i’m going to the store. it’s grocery day so i’ll be there for a while — need to stock the fridge up for the week. you want anything?”

geto wishes so desperately to see your face now, asking if you could go and holding a reusable bag by your side, but strangely you don’t even make a move to open the door.

“no it’s fine, and okay! i’m— uh, busy with something,” you look towards the door and back to the article of clothing in your hand, “so i’m sorry i can’t help today.”

geto’s disappointment is brief, but he recovers as soon as he hears your apology, in that sweet, honeyed voice you love to use on him, as oblivious as you were of its effect.

“’s fine, see you later!” there’s a weird and panicky bout of feeling geto gets, but he’s satisfied with the hum you sound through the door. and once the door clicks behind him, you’re unlocking your own door softly, ensuring your surroundings are safe.

geto wasn’t the only one. between your fingers were his favourite shirt, straight from the dirty laundry of last week’s load; it’s been a reoccuring thing these few weeks after realising you maybe want geto to fuck you silly. you’re sneaking around undetected with it, holding it to your nose, breathing in his natural musk. it was the one shirt you liked on him — always put on when with you — it’s like your secret little joke from that night. and it was so sinful, the way your breath hitches from just his scent, the way your panties pool with arousal.

what would it be like to actually wear it?

the thought crosses your mind and leaves just as fast, heart pounding in your chest when you realise you’ve never tried that before.

peeling off your top, you slip it on carefully, swallowing from how much larger he is than you. the sleeves extend past your elbows by a little, so much cloth on you that you’re a little lightheaded by the possibility of being geto’s, belonging to geto.

“oh god…” you sigh, feeling your pussy throb at the thought, and your hands are shy when they creep in between your thighs. they rub at your clit gently, imagining geto was doing the work instead. he’d be so gentle with his hands, cupping your thighs, spreading your legs.

you’re whining when your fingers find your way into your cunt, nose filled with the scent of geto and head filling with the repeated runnings of his tongue on you, his cock in you, his whole person devoted to you. it’s cute how you don’t know that’s already the case. your fingers are lacklustre as you pump them in and out while your other hand is busy with your clit and you look like a goddess: spread out on your bed in nothing but your roommate’s shirt, a soft, slow melody playing from your phone.

you’re so entranced by the sensations you don’t hear the front door opening and the rustle of the plastic bags (he forgot the reusable bags) containing your groceries, distracted by the phone call he’s having with gojo who teases him through the line. his best friend says stupid crap like she’s definitely into you, too. what her panties smell like? have you guys fucked yet?

the last two was enough for geto to whisper a soft satoru!, clearly displeased with the way he was asking about you, about you both that he only rolls his eyes, muttering an annoyed “i’m hanging up, you pervert. i’ll talk to you later—”

setting down the bags, he frowns again upon seeing the closed door, although not as closed you thought you left it.

“suguru— f-fuck, right there—” geto chokes on his saliva at the moans coming from behind the door, careful not to step on the wrong floorboard below him as he lines up with your room door — a terrifying feat rewarded by your needy whines begging for him. he can hear the wetness of his roommate’s cunt, and he wants to take a peak so bad; so he does just that and stiflies a groan at the sight.

your hair is splayed out all around you, pussy facing the entrance of the door just perfectly and his shirt draped over your body. it sends him into a frenzy, head reeling at seeing his shirt so oversized and so perfect over your body that he swears he cums a little at the display. your cute face scrunched up in pure pleasure, your toes curling around the bedsheets he changed for you.

oh, shit.

and geto panics when your head shoots up, eyes meeting his and your hands halting.

fuck, did i say that out loud?

you’re speechless although your reflexes cause you to close your legs immediately, scooting up the bed like you’ve just got cornered by a predator. it was similar — geto with his big, brooding self, moving slowly into the room with both hands up and a dazed look behind his eyes, you, exposed in the eyes of a hungry man who’s craved you for so many months. you like it.

“you’re— you’re wearing my shirt,” geto gulps, causing you to let out a nervous laugh.

“yea— yeah…”

geto thinks that maybe this is it. this was the moment he’s been holding back on for so long, and so he crosses that boundary into your space, stopping right at the footboard of the bed. you follow suit, going onto your hands and knees and crawling to him that he tilts his head back. everything you do drives him crazy.

suguru’s words is heavy, “you think you’re cute, hm? stealing my shirt and then moaning out my name and fingering your pussy like that…”

your breath shakes, ascending to your knees so you’d reach his height, but not quite. he tugs you closer to him.

“yeah.” it’s so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it, “been wanting you for a long time.”

your roommate hums, lips hovering over yours just by an inch. you’d probably pass out if not for your racing heart and pulsating core.

“yeah?”

you’re finished with words, resorting only to a shy nod before geto crashes his lips onto yours, wrapping the other arm around you as yours go around his neck. it’s messy, filled with drool, devouring you on the spot for teasing him for so long, mouths moving in sync with each other. there’s a soft moan that escapes your mouth when you feel him manhandle you with ease, picking you off the bed to set you down on your back gently.

“c’mon, let’s see the mess you made,” you mewl at the words but your legs are stubborn, still in disbelief at the way suguru treats you, but you let him pry your legs apart after some gentle praises. you stifle a smile when you see how geto exhales at how beautiful your pussy is, leaking from your hole while your puffy clit is begging to be touched.

“oh, she’s so fuckin’ pretty…” your roommate mumbles, intoxicated on your scent as he bends down, giving your cunt one last loving look before he looks to you with a small grin. it’s clear he cannot wait, but he pauses for the words he wants to hear.

“wan’ you to eat me out, sugu,” you’re mumbling and suguru thinks it’s so cute, only responding by giving you a peck on your inner thigh, a soft yeah? before he goes down on you.

geto’s tongue on you is slow and cautious, drawing languid circles around your clit as he plays with your thighs, moaning softly into your core.

“s’damn sweet,” you can feel the stretch of a smile before he resumes, drawing you in slowly with each lick, each suck. geto doesn’t let your arousal go to waste, using a finger to scoop up your juices before he rubs the area around your hole and then the first push into your pussy makes you let out a loud, wanton moan.

“oh— your fingers, sugu, they’re—” they’re so much thicker and longer, everything that you couldn’t feel before now feels too much and yet your cunt gives him his answer by clenching around his longer finger.

“better than yours?” he asks with a lopsided smile.

you huff in indignance — not your fault you had shorter fingers, “yeah.”

“i’ll make full use of ’em, baby,” geto gasps softly when he pushes his finger right to the hilt, obsessed with the way your hand closes around his wrist. “too much?”

you shake your head, “n-no, just— feels too good.”

your roommate laughs softly, “princess is just too sensitive.”

he’s tempted to chuckle again when he sees how the pet names affect you, but soon he’s adding a second finger and pushes in, moving at a slow speed. and then when he adds his mouth into the mix, you’re begging for him to hurry; his eyes flutter close, getting lost in everything that you dish out.

geto’s pace is routine like his life, but it’s not any less pleasurable as he curls his fingers upwards, stretching you out and hitting your spot repeatedly. he continually flicks his tongue and sucks and slurps, tasting your essence once and needing a second, third, fourth, umpteenth taste, bringing out the most delicious moans to fall from your lips. it’s like hearing aphrodite sing, and yet you cross her by miles both in beauty and voice. surely, he shouldn’t mention that out loud, but eros can’t possibly help the arrow puncturing his heart, and looking at his psyche now, he thinks you look absolutely flawless.

“f-feel so good, mmh— so deep, suguru—!” his eyes snap open to look at you with hooded lids, sending you a cheeky wink before he starts to suck on your bundle of nerves, keeping his mouth latched around it as his fingers speed up. the noises of your cunt sucking him in paired with your whines just sound so good, and the scent of his shirt is dizzying, pulling it higher and higher till it pools around your chest. you watch as geto pulls away for a second, gathering saliva in his throat before he spits on your pussy, and the action is so lewd your jaw drops and your hips start to hump against him. 

“ya like that? filthy girl,” geto smiles, rubbing his thumb into your clit and there’s that distinctive build-up in your stomach, coiling and burning until lays his tongue flat onto your cunt, pressing it deep along with the fingers that curl up in your pussy.

“su—” you don’t even have time to tell him, cumming all over his fingers and soaking the sheets, flustered at the in-awe look geto has on his face at how the shirt had ridden up, at how your hands cup your tits and play with your nipples, at how your cunt gushes so sweetly for him. he continues to pump his fingers to let you ride out your orgasm, relishing in the whine you let out when he removes his fingers.

“patience, sweetheart,” geto moves up to reach you, fingers waiting inches away from your lips. you’re taking his fingers into your mouth, keeping eye contact as you wrap your tongue around them and sucking your cum off of him, swearing lowly when you grab his wrist and shove them deeper. “but then again, we’ve been dancing around each other for too long, now.”

you smile at his allusion to the many times that the what-ifs could’ve come true, and yet now you’re tangled up like this in his shirt.

once geto’s underwear comes off, you’re gaping at the cock that he pumps, clearly looking intimidating enough that geto has a hand to your knee and kisses it gently. “we’ll make it fit, alright?”

you nod a little timidly, taking his hand off and twining your fingers, “yeah, i trust you to take care of me.” you make a quick move to remove his shirt but he stops you, saying something embarrassing about wanting to see how cute and small you look in his shirt. you’re scoffing and pushing at him later, you’re just too tall.

he takes care of you perfectly fine — when geto fully sheathes himself in you, he can only focus on your gummy walls that wrap around him fully, his eyes are rolling to the back of his head and you’re grasping at his hands that grab your hips so hard. your roommate fucks you so well, your body limp and your pussy begging to milk him dry that it spills out so much — geto groans into your neck with reddened cheeks at that later.

you’re receiving a noise warning the very next day, alongside a QR code that takes you to a link for soundproof foam, and all you can do is laugh at each other. like routine, geto is already gathering the ingredients for an apology cake, beside him right in that little kitchen in another shirt of his that starts to smell more and more like you—

as his roommate and maybe now, something more.

part two ♡