#im recovering from being dead

[amhooman]

I TRIED DRAWING AGAIN WEEEEE

ive been dying in this fandom recently and in general but ANYWAYS ONE VERY MESSY STANNARRATOR

I feel so frickcjn dead (its been so long since ive tried actually drawing digitally help)

[ofthehands]

TCM Ship Week @maskemasker

Day 1: Clothes Swap

Ship: Lefton

Word Count: 2,500

Warnings: Thoughts of violence, canon typical attitudes, lighthearted attempted murder, and general Sawyerisms

It was hard to say how exactly it had come to all this. How his parents’ attempt at socializing Drayton a little so he wasn’t a complete freak and could keep up appearances when cops came sniffing around, had led to his… problem with the neighbor boy. But somehow, that single silly misstep had led to a whole world of trouble. 

It wasn’t that big of a problem when they were teens at least. Then it had been nothing but a dangerous game of chicken- getting closer- brushing against one another- seeing who would pull away first. The issue came when while they were drunk on his old man’s stolen liquor, Enright had moved to press their lips together, and Drayton hadn’t thought to pull away at all. Drunk he didn’t think too much about it, but try as they might, they couldn’t stay drunk forever. 

It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. 

But it did. And they couldn’t exactly pretend it was a game anymore. 

So from that point on, they both treated it a little more seriously. Both in earnesty and fear. They both knew damn well that this thing between them would have to be kept hidden. Close to their chests. But Drayton was good at keeping secrets anyways. 

It didn’t have to be significant. Eventually, certainly, Enright would move on- find a girl to be with and forget all of whatever the hell this was. Or at least that’s how it should’ve gone. Would’ve gone too, if Drayton weren’t the unluckiest bastard to ever walk the Earth. 

As it did happen, Enright got… fixated. In some strange way. Determined it was more than some fucked up childish thing they were doing. Convinced it was something sinful, and horrible, but in some way real. Drayton was alright with that- maybe he could convince Enright to see his way- convince him that the Sawyer family way was right- since he was interested in the unnatural and sinful. But suddenly, without so much as a goodbye, he up and disappeared for a few months. Drayton figured he finally found something better- something real- and decided to stop fooling around like they had been. Until one day Enright had the nerve to show back up, meeting him at the gas station, proudly wearing a uniform that marked him as something much more horrible than a bit queer. Drayton felt like he might faint right then and there. He knew then they had no future together, no life where happiness could be theirs. 

In the time he was away, Lefty had become a cop. 

“Sawyer! How’ve you been?” he asked, friendly as ever. 

“Good Lord- Lefty- w- what the hell are you wearin’?” He looked down at that dorky little uniform, his big blue eyes wide with confusion. 

“Well, I uh- I just finished up academy training and now I’m a-”

“A cop,” Drayton finished for him. 

“I mean, yeah, I’m an officer of Muerto County and-”

“What would you wanna go off and turn into a cop for?” Drayton asked, a little more anger in his voice than he probably should’ve let slip. 

“Well I just- I mean- I wanna help people. Protect ‘em. And here in Muerto County we have one of the highest rates of disappearances in the state! Goin’ back to the 1890’s- it’s an epidemic!” Lefty paused for just a moment, giving Drayton time to spiral as he thought about what would happen to him if Lefty kept digging into those disappearances. “That… That ain’t gonna be a problem, is it?” he asked. Drayton tensed up a little, involuntarily. “That I’m a cop?” He knew what he had to do next. 

“What? Oh, nah,” he said, trying to smile, trying to look relaxed. “Just surprised is all. Always thought you’d work with cattle, like your daddy or… or be a preacher or somethin’.” Lefty smiled, a bit more relaxed, and Drayton couldn’t look him in the eye. They talked some more, about something Drayton couldn’t really remember. He just kept thinking about what he had to do next. 

Which was how they ended up where they were. Lefty sound asleep in the Sawyer home’s guest bedroom. Drayton standing over the bed with an axe. Getting ready to do what had to be done. To stop him from becoming a problem. 

He just wished it was easier. Wished he could just do it- like a man- like Grandpa would’ve. Wished Lefty would wake up suddenly and fight him- give him a reason to do it. Wished he wouldn’t smile softly in his sleep. But wishing wasn’t liable to get him anywhere. Drayton had no choice. He had to act. He raised the axe above his head. Lefty moved then- suddenly, and Drayton tensed, got ready to swing- but he didn’t wake up. He wriggled a bit, pushing the blanket down, worming his way up. Too hot. A treacherous fondness settled in Drayton’s chest at that. Lefty found some comfortable spot, still sound asleep, blissfully unaware. He looked small in the simple cotton shirt Drayton had loaned him. Lefty was broad-chested, but short. And that shirt was a bit too big on Drayton. Drayton wondered briefly if he’d ever be able to wear that shirt again. Considering the state it would be in shortly. Then he swung the axe. 

“Psst!!” The sudden noise made him jump out of his skin as quietly as he could, and his axe swing missed, planting the head firmly in the bed frame- only inches from Lefty’s skull. 

“I’ll be up in just a minute,” Lefty muttered, somehow still mostly asleep. Drayton turned, pissed off, glaring at the door. The twins were looking at him there with big eyes, more quiet than they usually were. 

“What the hell do you little rats want?” Drayton whispered, trying his damndest not to yell, despite how much he wanted to. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“The cars with the lights is b-back,” Bobby whispered in turn. Drayton tensed. The cars with the lights. 

“The one that took Daddy-” Nubbins tried. 

“I know,” Drayton snapped, a little louder than he should’ve. “At the house?”

“They’re by the- the cattle guard.” 

“Oh hell. Oh for fuck’s sake-” The house was clean, on the first floor. Drayton had to clean it up to get Lefty in- to lure the other over for dinner and then into bed to kill him. But there were too many bones on the Sawyer property to ever clean up, and if they got into the basement there was too much blood there to ever clean out. Drayton needed to keep them away- to keep them from getting too close. But they had no reason to listen to him and every reason to distrust him. He turned, between the boys and Lefty, trying to figure out his next step. Then he saw Lefty’s little cop uniform. He’d worn it over to show the boys, proud of what he’d gone and done, not realizing they wouldn’t think highly of it. It was silly- at best- a size too big on his vertically challenged frame. But it gave Drayton an idea. He pulled the axe from the bed frame as quietly as he could and passed it to the boys. “Alright, take this downstairs, and I’ll meet you there. There’s somethin’ I gotta do real quick.” 

Drayton felt utterly stupid jingle jangling his way down the stairs in that uniform. He scratched the back of his neck and considered his hair for a moment. They’d made Lefty cut his hair. Would his overgrown hair give him away? The way he spoke? The way he stood? What happened if they realized he wasn’t really Officer Enright? He didn’t know. But he had to do something. So he went out and got in the truck. 

He stopped at the end of the driveway, where the cops were waiting, just lurking in the early light of dawn. He stepped out of the truck and pulled his- well, Lefty’s- belt up, the way cops did. There were two of them, just standing around, looking at something in the brush. Scanning. Looking for something. Drayton swallowed heavily. 

“Howdy fellas,” he said. “What uh- seems to be the problem?” 

“Well, Mr. uh-”

“Enright,” Drayton said. He had to lie- the damn uniform said Enright. He hoped they wouldn’t catch him there- hoped they didn’t know Lefty, hoped he hadn’t said it with too little confidence. 

“Well, Mr. Enright,” the taller of the two said, “We come over here from Hale County on account of somethin’ about a missin’ girl.” Oh hell. 

“Well uh…” If Drayton lied - told them he’d heard nothing about any missing girl- he figured they might get suspicious. “I.. I hate to say it but, we’ve had a lot of disappearances out here… I’m… I’m kind of new on the force, I don’t think I’d be able to help you much with that, but if you head on to Childress-” 

“Oh yeah, we were ‘bout to head on that a way,” said the shorter cop- the one with a cigarette between his stained teeth.  He blew a little smoke at Drayton as he spoke. Drayton had smoked plenty himself as a teen, but that pissed him off anyways. 

“Well,” Then get the hell out of my county- “What’s got you stoppin’ here?” He tried to seem amiable, tried to stifle his nervous laugh, bouncing on his heels a little. He wasn’t sure how well he succeeded. 

“She stopped at a gas station just down the way. Nobody’s seen her up in Childress, from what information the folks at the station gave us- but that was just from callin’ in. We stopped ‘cause this is the first house we seen out here for miles. Seems like somewhere that if somethin’ happened to her car she might’ve gone.” Drayton swallowed. 

“Well, this is my family’s home. Lived here for generations. There ain’t really anybody out here but us. And if a lady’d come by, well I…I’m pretty good with cars, I prob’ly could’ve fixed it up. And if not, I could’ve given her a ride to the station.” The taller one nodded.

“Yeah… We didn’t really know who was livin’ out here, but… knowin’ it’s y’all does make me feel a little better,” the taller one said. 

“You sure there ain’t nobody else around here?” asked the smoker. 

“Positive,” Drayton said. He chuckled a little, “You think I don’t know my own backyard?” The two exchanged a look and Drayton considered for a brief moment trying to grab one’s gun and shooting the other with it, before the taller one spoke up again. 

“Well, I think we’d ought to get out to Childress now. Thanks for talkin’ with us, Enright. And uh, by the way, get a haircut, alright? And maybe some boots that match your uniform.” Drayton hadn’t thought about the shoes- hell. 

“Oh uh- yessir- sorry sir-” Drayton felt embarrassed and he wasn’t even quite sure why. But that seemed to shine through in his face, and they accepted it and moved on. As they drove away Drayton let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in, and got back into his truck. 

When he got home the boys hadn’t cut each others’ hands off with the axe and Lefty still seemed to be sound asleep. He snatched the axe from his brothers, putting it too high for the grubby bastards to reach before they got any ideas, and headed up the stairs, trying to quietly return the borrowed clothes. 

He opened the door more delicately than he had ever done before. Lefty was still there. His breathing wasn’t as deep, so Drayton figured he was at least half awake. Drayton slipped in the room, closing the door behind him. He looked around the room, filling with soft morning light. It was peaceful in a way the Sawyer house never really was. It felt like a dream. Like something unreal. He turned, for a moment, and looked at the broken, dusty full length mirror that sat on the floor. His reflection was distorted, by the angle and the dust and the spiderweb cracks across the glass. But he could still see it. It was strange, to see himself in a uniform- especially that uniform. Maybe he could’ve done something like that. Signed up with the cops or the military. Found some way out of this place. But that wasn’t where he belonged, or what he got to have. He was a Sawyer. He would live and die on that farm, with his family. He had no choice to go anywhere else. That was his lot in life. 

Drayton almost jumped out of his skin when Lefty put his arms around him from behind. 

“D’ah- Shit! What in the hell-” He jerked back a little but stopped himself from elbowing his… friend in the jaw. 

“Oh, sorry- didn’t mean to scare you-” Lefty muttered, face pressed to his back, arms wrapped gently behind his waist. Drayton settled a little, despite himself. He moves quiet when he wants to. Good to keep that in mind. “What’re you up to?” Lefty asked. 

“Well uh- I was just- uh…” It was easier to lie to him like this- when he didn’t have to look him in the eyes.  Drayton could just barely see him in the mirror behind him, a bit of Lefty’s mousey hair visible over his shoulder. But Drayton was struggling to think of something to say regardless. Lefty peeked up, looking over Drayton’s shoulder at the mirror. 

“It looks good on you,” Lefty said. “You’d make a fine lookin’ officer.” Drayton outright laughed at that. 

“Yeah, sure, you damn fool.” He turned around, away from that dusty reflection and back to reality. There were things Drayton would’ve liked to have been if he wasn’t a Sawyer. A damn cop wasn’t one of ‘em. He looked down at Lefty, still wearing his too big cotton shirt and ratty old sleepin’ pants. He thought about how close he had come to putting an axe through his skull. Then he kissed him, a quick, gentle peck on the lips. “Alright, that’s enough messin’ around. Let’s get all this switched back.” They exchanged clothes as quickly and modestly as they could, till everything was back to mostly normal. Drayton could still smell Lefty a bit, on that shirt. Feel his warmth. He wondered, with the state it was in, if he’d ever be able to take it off. Then he looked back at Lefty. 

He knew he should probably kill him. Find some way to do it quick, since he had the space and the time and the advantage. That boy was going to cause him a world of trouble one day. He could feel it all the way to his bones. But he could take care of that another day. For the time being, he decided to just enjoy the early morning sun.

[goryhorroor]

hiiii i was wondering if you had any recommendations for horror films/series that have a final boy :) also i love your blog it's seriously so cool!!

so finals boys are always in slasher films so I'll give you final boys in slashers & then survivors in other films!

final boys: a nightmare on elm street part 2, the burning, tommy jarvis in like friday the 13th part iv, the new beginning & vi, child's play 1, 2, and 3, bride of chucky also has a final boy, halloween h20, hellbent, house of wax, wolf creek, the hills have eyes, my soul to take, the babysitter

surviviors: final destination 2, evil dead, phantasm, the faculty, hostel, get out, predator, and green room. there's a lot of boy survivors but final boys? not as many

[fishymedic]

Steb for his first year or so: Punctual, never a sick day/never leaving work early+taking all sorts of graveyard shifts etc (very much hoping to clock out at a reasonable hour but it really depends- usually he's constantly given undone paperwork or some other bullshit) Steb act 1: I clock in on time, I clock out on time- you will not reach me if I don't want reached (Punctual, struggles with taking off early if needed+sick days are usually used when he's really just unable to drag himself out/this does change with Maddie as in he becomes less rigid again)

Steb act 2: My schedule is between me and myself- I clock in for the enforcer headache+Maddie but mainly I'm going to just be at the hospital till I'm off shift/then I'm outta here

Act 3: I'm here to fight back the threat you let into our walls in the first place+for my safety and that of people I care about/everybody else I'll fight till I can't (I call dibs on bridge duty+I want the bridge team to be my team for the battle) but if I somehow survive this I sure better have the right to call my contract over with Post act 3: I'm such a good medic, isn't it so great that I can work for days without sleep and through multiple shifts pick up the slack and do the work of everybody else & then some- No rush to make my unofficial exit from the job I never wanted official (handle all the other pressing business first, just so long I can stop wearing the uniform and live my life it's no rush)

[euclydya]

*shakes curly awake* PLEAZE WAKE UP AND FRONT JIMMY IS DRIVING ME INSANER

[andromedasummer]

holy shit they finally identified the body in a bag pulled out of the gulf harbour back in march and still this entire situation is no clearer

[raiii-bee]

fuck this stupid baka life

[skullsfiction]

stupid appendix | oscar piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary; oscar piastri biggest fan (his girlfriend) goes crazy when he wins his first grand prix, and she isn’t there to see it.

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, and 761,305 others!

yourusername: it’s race week again, except i’m praying oscar doesn’t win because i’m getting my appendix taken out and if he wins, and im not there, i will go fucking ballistic. 

view comments below!

oscarpiastri: wow, thanks for all the support! 🥰

yourusername: i love you with my whole heart octopus, but if you win and im not there? i will never forgive you.

oscarpiastri: and what am i supposed to do if i start leading?

yourusername: stop, and let everyone pass you!

oscarpiastri: so i won’t be doing that! lovely conversation 👊

yourusername: YOU NEVER LOVED ME

user1: why’d she just call oscar octopus?

yourusername; that’s his name?

user1: no..his name is oscar?

yourusername; he was born octopus jack piastri, but got bullied a lot, so he changed his name to oscar when he was 16 😓

user1: really?

yourusername: yeah, and i would know!

user1: ig…LOL who names their kid octopus?

yourusername: RIGHT??

oscarpiastri: STOP TELLING PEOPLE I CHANGED MY NAME. MY NAME WAS NOT OCTOPUS.

user1: oh…well now i’m embarrassed

user2: don’t be, she’s done this to at least 30 fans now

maxverstappen1: don’t worry, i’ll make sure he doesn’t win 😏

yourusername: thank you max! you’re my only REAL friend <3

landonorris: excuse me?

yourusername; tell me lando, would you throw oscar into the grandstands to prevent him from winning this race?

landonorris: no?

yourusername: FAKE

landonorris: okay, you know what, it’s not MY fault that you decided to take your appendix out THAT DAY.

yourusername: I DIDNT DECIDE IT. IT WAS FORCED UPON ME.

landonorris: RESCHEDULE THE SURGERY FOR THE NEXT DAY! 

yourusername: wait.

oscarpiastri: NO. you will be having that surgery on sunday. and you will not being rescheduling.

yourusername: I HATE YOU OCTOPUS

oscarpiastri: you can hate me all you want, you’re still getting that surgery.

user3: on one hand i want oscar to win, on the other i dont think yn will recover if she isn’t there to witness it

charles_leclerc: i would try to stop him from winning but i don’t think i have a fast enough car for that

yourusername: it’s okay charles! i’m sure ferrari will bounce back in no time :)

charles_lelcerc: really?

yourusername; no…

charles_leclerc: nice talk! :(

user4: when you want to comfort your friend but you can’t lie for shit

user5: normally i pray that oscar will win a race, but today, ill do the opposite, just for you yn 💕

yourusername: thank you!!

user6: she is dead serious. she honestly doesn’t want oscar to win.

yourusername: i’ve never been so serious in my LIFE.

user7: no i get it, imagine going to every single on of your bfs races and the ONE time you don’t go he wins???

user8: i’d start to believe i’m back luck

carlossainz55: imagine having to get your appendix out 🤣🫵

yourusername: right? that’s so embarrassing 🤣

user9: you two are the LAST people too be talking

user10: oscar piastri does NOT win the hungary gp 🕯️ oscar piastri does NOT win the hungary gp 🕯️oscar piastri does NOT win the hungary gp 🕯️oscar piastri does NOT win the hungary 🕯️

user11: AMEN

user12: LOUDER

user13: preach!

oscarpiastri: @/yourusername, you see what you’ve done?

yourusername: beautiful work guys! oscar piastri does NOT win the hungary gp 🕯️

oscarpiastri: 😐

— race day!

— post race interview!

. . .

liked by mclaren, lewishamilton, landonorris, and 719,014 others!

oscarpiastri: first grand prix win. incredible 🧡

view comments below!

carlossainz55: congrats oscar 👍

estebanocon: great job mate, first of many 👏

user14: oh i’m crying

user15: omg i am too, the tears just won’t stop

user16: first it was him winning, then it was him apologizing for winning, and now it’s yn not being there for him 💔

landonorris: congrats bro!

user17: OH OSCAR PIASTRI, OH OSCAR PIASTRI, OH OSCAR PIASTRI

user18: waiting for yn to wake up and raise hell

user19: she’s going to wake up from anesthesia and this is going to be the first thing she sees 

yourusername: what was the one thing i asked you not to do?

oscarpiastri: baby you just woke up, stop making your mom write for you, and rest

yourusername: ONE THING OSCAR. I ASKED FOR ONE THING.

oscarpiastri: stop making your mom write for you, she probably feels very uncomfortable right now

yourusername: i do - the mom

yorusername: STOP CHANGING THE SUBJECT OSCAR JACK PIASTRI. YOU ARE SOOO NOT INVITES TO MY OSCAR FIRST WIN PARTY

user20: i know that anesthesia is hitting real hard 

user21: i want to go to oscar’s first win party

yourusername: @/maxverstappen1 AND YOU. I TOLD YOU NOT TO LET HIM WIN

maxverstappen1: i’m sorry yn. i have failed you.

yourusername: …its okay max, you’ll get him next time

maxverstappen1: thank you yn ❤️

oscarpiastri: WHOS SIDE ARE YOU ON??

yourusername: NOT YOURS.

yourusername: stupid appendix.

carlossainz55: me and my homies all hate our appendix’s

user22: you don’t have one?

carlossainz55: 😐

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, 691,047 others!

yourusername: absolutely gutted to have not been there for his first win, nonetheless OCTOPUS JACK PIASTRI IS A FUCKING RACE WINNER

view comments below!

oscarpiastri: you will see me win in person love, i know it 🧡

yourusername: i love you octopus

oscarpiastri: i love you more

user22: he’s not fighting the octopus?? softie

user23: maybe she’s dying and wants her too be happy in her last moments… OMG YN ARE YOU DYING???

yourusername: NO??? i’m perfectly fine, the surgery went perfect!

user23: oh, then yeah he’s a softie

user24: worst maiden win ever

user25: SPEAK ON IT

user26: it would’ve been so much better if yn was there :(

charles_leclerc: glad your surgery went well yn!!

yourusername: thank you charles 👊 congrats on p4, your getting up there!!

charles_leclerc; thankfully! i could not handle any other bad week in the car 😞

user27: none of us could charles. none of us could.

maxverstappen1: can i congratulate oscar now?

yourusername: i guess 😒

maxverstappen1: YAY OSCAR 🥳🥳

user28: why is he acting like he wasn’t one of the first to congratulate him in person?

maxverstappen1: SHHHH YN DOESNT KNOW THAT

user29: “her health comes first.” oscar jack piastri you SOFTIE

user28: i desperately need a video of yn waking up from surgery and finding out oscar won.

oscarpiastri: i have one, there was lots of cussing, snot, and tears

yourusername; SHUT UP OCTOPUS YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOURE TALKING ABOUT

user29: SHE HAS BEEN THERE FOR ALL HIS BIG WINS, AND THE ONE TIME—THE ONE TIME HE WINS IN FORUMLA FUCKING ONE. SHE ISNT THERE. GOD I CANT TAKE TJIS

yourusername: see, you get it 😞

. . .

notes; my post on oscar’s win!!! super super super proud of him <33

[diah-the-demon]

i need to constantly remind myself to not sing while i am still recovering from a cold cause its not gonna help at all

[szarina]

OMFG im so embarassseeed to send this but can you do gentle sex with loottssss of praise with geto and gojo. maybe a part two of a game of cat and mouse. maybe they're feelijg nice?

❝ SICK FAVORS. ❞

✞ FEATURING. BULLY! GOJO SATORU AND GETO SUGURU

▶ SERIES MASTERLIST

CONTENT WARNINGS. slight somnophilia + nonconsensual groping + noncon + dubcon + praise + dacryphilia + mild injuries + references to depression + bribery + fingering + gaslighting + jealousy + oc character + bullying + pet names + DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

SYNOPSIS. after the punishment you took plus being sick gave them the reason to visit after your two days of absence.

you spent the next two days in bed. your phone turned off to block the calls and messages coming from them. not needing any reminder of what they can do while you shut the world for awhile.

after what happened, you couldn't bring yourself to attend your classes. absentmindedly staring in space while the world buzzes around you. passerbys staring at you in concern while you aimlessly drag your body around until your feet brought you back to your dorm room. taking a long, cold shower and plopping in your bed. crying your eyes out until they were puffy and red. you stayed in your bed the first day. squeezing your eyes until they are no tears to cry. every ache of your body reminded you of them. the bruises. the welts. you were lucky your ass didn't blister from the harsh spanking you got from him. only laying in your stomach until the time ticks by in the clock.

what meant to be a rest day turned to be a sick day. your head pounding and every breath feels like you were chasing it with a body that feels hot while your insides turns cold like water freezing in a fridge. luckily your roommate kindly checked on you. tending to your needs until you were better and with that they left you alone with a better chance to recover in your own in which you are grateful for and you snooze in your own.

while you slumber away from all your problems, there suguru and satoru was restless. there's a barrage of missed calls in their call logs and a handful of messages in the chat box, both you didn't see nor responded. they don't missed they say but actions lie and after the two days without you, nor a strand of your hair or a silhouette, they visited you in your dorm room.

knocking once, twice and the door swung open and they expected it to be you. with your surprised reaction and they can't wait to wipe that relieved look in your face after getting a surprise visit from them, instead your roommate was the one who greeted them. staring at them inconspicuously. a bored look in their face wondering who would bother you at this time.

“she had been sick and is recovering. you should visit for another time.” they explained. ignoring the irritated look in their faces. “if you insist. lock the door before leaving.” they gave up as satoru began to threaten them about dorm privileges. it comes in handy and they were granted access to your own safe space. your roommate left shortly muttering about being late to a group study and won't be back until tomorrow which granted an opportunity to be left alone with you.

the curtains were open. a slight breeze coming from the outside your window gently blew. giving your room a natural cooling. your roommate weren't lying when they said you were sick and is currently recovering. a thermometer is neatly placed in your bedside table along with medicine and a glass of water.

a soft whoosh being heard in the room coming from your sleeping figure. tucked in the blanket and satoru almost gleefully want to jump on you but suguru stopped him.

“careful, satoru. she's sleeping.” the blue-eyed man pouts before slowly putting his weight on your bed while suguru settles besides your sleeping figure. covered by the blankets to preserve your body warmth and satoru being the one who can't keep his hands on himself decided to tug your blankets down. leaving you to shift in your sleep but satoru doesn't care as always of your comfort.

mind in a tangled mess of being deprived of you. satoru always was on his whims. never letting anyone to dictate what he's to do but sometimes he could listen to suguru. he knows suguru missed you. they both did. no phone calls not even a message and he's angry. your left them high and dry.

removing his glasses and putting it away, his sweater followed through. showing his defined muscles. he hovers above you. drinking in the sight of your sleeping figure and it's different from how you usually is.

a simple oversized shirt draped in your body. showing your bare legs and the cloth riding up exposing your creamy thighs ridden with the bruises you took from them. some are healing and the others, fresh from the punishment they've given you the other day.

your round cheek is smooshed in the pillow and your unkempt locks of your hair sprawled above you. you're almost innocent and satoru isn't the type to fawn over someone. such domesticity is present in yourself. almost innocent. he leans down to you. his lips brushing in the apple of your cheek and just simply inhaling the scent in your neck. his hand went simply to touch your thighs. soft and warm like clouds from the plushness and the heat you're radiating.

it was the best of your sleep in your entire life, maybe since you started college. it has been nothing but nights that are spent when satoru and suguru would bring you to places you've never seen just to use you as a tool to warm their cocks. it was a nightmare. late in the night you would be back in your dorm room like you were trash. in your sleep there's nothing of it. the humiliation they would do to you. the names that you didn't heard since childhood. the tears coming down just to tire you out until you've fallen asleep. in your slumber, it was all quiet. a dreamland that is granted to you for only a night and then you woke up.

your eyes flutter to adjust your sight in your room but before your eyes could open. you feel a presence near you, you only assumed it was your roommate it was taking care of you when you were sick. you call their name.

“akira?” you call out softly but instead it was the voice that terrorized you and when you hear that voice, he's also here.

“who's akira?” suguru asks you, beating satoru to ask you first. of course they know who is it. they were just messing up with you. satoru studied your expression. a mixture of shock and fear mingling into your face and he smiles at your frightened expression. tears quickly appeared in your eyes and he frowns at your expression. a terrified look is thrown at him and he's hurt by it. a little.

“where's akira—i mean my roommate?”

“they left.” suguru changes his posture. sitting in crossed legs while you slowly backed away until your back is pressed against the wall. gojo sitting in front of you. examining you.

geto tuts at you. “let's get down to other important matters, princess.” you winced at the pet name. your head hanging low and suguru climbs to your bed. grasping your chin with his finger and forcing you to look at him. meeting the fierceness of his own eyes. “where were you? ignored calls and messages. care to explain?”

“i was sick.” you mutter softly. blinking in a nervous manner and suguru let goes your chin. satisfied with your answer and knowing that you're not lying to his face. he smiles and looks at satoru.

“clearly, you're recovering but you can take us again. right?” he whispers behind you. his hot breath tickling your ears. you shaked your head. you've been sick. they would understand but they have other things in their mind running right now and that is to use you again. he places you in his lap, forcing your chunky legs to spread.

suguru ignores it that little denial you were doing and his hands slides in your arms and cups your round belly. slowly pulling the hem of your oversized shirt until it rested at the top of your breasts which suguru wasted no time in fondling them. groaning at your ear from how soft you are and kissing your nape.

satoru beams up like a child on a christmas day. his present in front of him unwrapped. suguru had abandoned your other breast. satoru removes your panties and suguru takes advantage of it. brushing his fingers in between your slit and slapping that cute little clit of yours making you jolt and suguru chuckles. enjoying the tiniest of reactions coming from you. he rubs your slit for a few seconds until you were wet before plunging his thick fingers inside you. making sure you're prepped before satoru takes you whose already stroking his cock, bead of precum leaking in the slit of his cock.

satoru's patience is running thin he crashes his lips into you roughly. forcefully shoving his tongue in you making you sob at the intrusion. his pulse quickening. moaning from the kiss from how good it was. why it was this easy to feel this way with you. just a kiss, a touch. yes, he torments you. took pleasures of your pain. seeing how helpless you are and with the tears in your eyes. his reflection mirrored on it.

do you see him? for what he is. do you know how little self-control he have for you when he takes you.

he hold one of your round cheeks in his hand. his gaze in your trembling lips. swollen it was from how much he have kissed you. swept away from the fervent passion.

“slowly, satoru.” suguru warns him after making you cum with his fingers. he removes his digits to your soaked hole replacing it with satoru's cock aligning to your sweet pussy. “i know, suguru. i want (y/n) to recover but i know she misses my cock too—fuck” he hisses after sinking his cock deep inside you. the stretch burns despite being prepped by suguru's fingers. “that's it, sweet girl. taking satoru's cock so well.” suguru murmurs. biting the shell of your ear while he watch satoru crumbling in front of him from how good your pussy is.

gojo hoists your leg up, putting it beside his wait and his moans got louder. his cock getting deeper inside of you. pleasure coursing both of your stomachs from how good it was. “you love me being this deep, baby?.” gojo pants. once in a rare occasion he would be this sincere to you. for once it wasn't condescending. it was real soft from how he was speaking to you. holding your plush waist in his hand while he rolls his hips.

suguru chuckles. “but i bet you like it better when it's me and satoru are inside you, right? you always have the cutest reaction.” suguru taunts and followed by a chuckles after feeling your body tensing up. a curse coming from gojo following through.

“f-fuck, she does like that, suguru. she's tightening up.”suguru chuckles. “but i bet you want both of our cocks inside you, right? you love it when we make your slutty pussy ours. cause you're our greedy baby. bet you can't cum on satoru's cock without mine.” gojo lets out a curse followed by a laugh.

“f-fuck, she's squeezing my cock tight, suguru. yeah? you want suguru's cock inside you too, baby?” gojo teases. “shit, shit. okay, we'll get into that, okay. if you can cum on my cock, suguru will give it to you. understand—” his breath turning into labored breaths as his hips snaps forward, what once easy pace turning into much of harsher pace.

every jiggle of your body just turn him on more. seeing your round stomach folded and your breasts and just everything about you. he's not going to last. added by your chubby pussy choking his cock and trying to milk him with every worth of his cum. suguru warned him to never get this rough to you but if you're still on brink of recovering why this pussy of yours greedily sucks his cock deep inside you.

“want me to cum inside you? you're my good girl. you deserve to be given by my cum.” he babbles. holding the back of your thighs as he gets deeper insider you making you cry again and sob. geto cradles your cheek. whispering sweet nothings to you as his friend gets closer to his release.

“make sure to take satoru's cum, sweet girl or we won't get easy on you even you're not feeling well.” suguru warns. you can only nod. not wanting to prolong your suffering from this two even it was their way of being nice to you for a brief short time.

your pussy squelches with satoru's thrust. the man who's currently shaping your pussy hole with his length is clouded in haze. all he can do is drive his large cock in your hole that has been clenching on his length. beads of his cum are being slowly staining your insides along with your slick.

a choked moan out of the blue coming from you and a sudden burst of your orgasm came in manner that you didn't expect. your pussy convulses around with his length and satoru with his full force, buries his cock to the hilt in to your cunt. trembling as he spills his thick load of his cum inside you. his grip on your hips tight as he makes sure that he's balls deep while he empties himself inside of you.

“fucking good, hah, going to fuck this pussy again.” satoru grunts and suguru stops him. “not so fast, satoru. i'm next.” satoru grumbles and he hissed removing his still hard cock.

satoru's now behind you. fondling and pinching every skin his hands can cover while kissing you fervently.

“ready for me?” suguru asks you, already in between your legs with his cock brushing against your folds and you know it wasn't a question.

you thought after being done to you, they'll leave like they always does but instead they're still here. the clouds were dark and there's a cold breeze coming from your window.

after passing out from how they spent fucking their loads inside you, you expected to be alone with nothing as your tears comfort you but there was nothing as suguru holds you in his arms. your back pressed against his chest while he lay in your bed. half-naked while he smokes his cigarette.

satoru on the other hand was resting in your round stomach. pawing at it like he was an overgrown cat. fascinated at the softness of your flesh. kissing it occasionally and sucking it.

suguru was the first to notice the change in your breathing. signalling that you were awake and he presses a soft kiss in your temple. “slept well, princess?” you nodded at his question. “good.” drawing circles in your shoulder.

“i was thinking, maybe we should upgrade your wardrobe for a purpose, what you think, satoru?” he briefly looks at the man in your stomach.

satoru raises his head. “better. i'm getting tired of ripping those annoying clothes.” he grumbles. burying his face into your stomach.

“you okay with that?” suguru gets back to question you and you shrug. you never had a choice when this two put their mind on something, you're not an exception.” suguru growls and you immediately regrets your lack of reaction.

“yes, thank you.” you muttered.

“we're going shopping tomorrow.”

they didn't wait for your response and only smiles. you didn't have a choice. they'll make it a fun shopping trip for you.

[vigilskeep]

hey harker! very much enjoying the lucanis/illario/general crow posting, and im gonna encourage more: now that you’ve had some time to sit with the game i was really curious to hear more about your opinion on lucanis becoming first talon. i can’t help but feel like it’s completely glossed over that lucanis is definitely going to get chewed up by this job in most save states. i have mixed feelings about it personally - but setting those aside because i’m asking about yours.

i TRULY cannot express this enough: that villa is a tomb and if we do not get him out of there we are burying him in it

lucanis does not want this job. he has straight up canonically always avoided thinking about this by assuming he would die before it becomes something he has to deal with. he reacts with paralysed disbelief to being given it and seems to have barely registered it for the rest of the game. and even if he did want it, lucanis is not capable of this job. none of his skillsets are managing people, or making ruthless calls, or watching out for himself. the only driving force behind him being pushed into this is caterina, who will not be around to do the admin and protect him from external threats forever. and she only wants him to do it in the first place because she had a good heir—his mother—and has needed to project that dead daughter onto lucanis for his whole life, to believe she hasn’t already gambled and irrevocably lost her family’s future decades ago. but lucanis’ incapacity to ever say no to her, which is what lets him stay that eternal teacher’s pet, is one of the most obvious shining examples why he would be so bad for the job!

it would be an uphill battle for anyone to recover control of an assassin house that until last week was being run by your cousin who tried to kill you. it would be an uphill battle for anyone to lead the crows in the aftermath of the antaam occupation. it would be an uphill battle for anyone to cope with the fact that relying on viago and teia—which lucanis with his resources and skills has no choice but to do here, even if he didn’t simply like them and make choices based on liking people because he is not a strategist—presents them as an alliance that any other ambitious talon must cut down to get anywhere. three out of eight of the talons is such a ludicrously dangerous number. it does not take an overwhelmingly brilliant mind to notice that there’s more of us than there are of them

the best man for the job would still be fighting for their life, and lucanis is far from the best man. caterina was! and she still lost five children and six grandchildren holding it! that’s so many! have you guys ever seen that one post about people who kept getting a new outdoor cat every time the last one got eaten by cougars and it was pointed out they were basically just feeding cats to the cougars. that’s what caterina dellamorte was doing having kids

the points in lucanis’ favour off the top of my head are the weight of the dellamorte name and reputation, that his victory over illario was decisive and public, and simply the fear factor that he is a god slayer and, lest we forget, a fucking abomination. is that enough to keep him alive? for how long? under what level of constant anxiety and moral degradation for his very soft over-caffeinated heart? all for the questionable gain of several large and empty villas and the privilege of dragging out the slow and lingering death of a family that, you guessed it, you love it, it’s the thedas favourite: has no! next! generation! heirs! at all!!!

(unless illario has a bunch of kids somewhere. i think that would be objectively pretty funny, a sentence i managed to type most of before feeling ill. oh god we need to get them out.)

i apologise that my tone here is somewhat hysterical but i have been living in the mind of my rook, a character very aware of the realities of crow politics who loves lucanis very much. it does not surprise me that lucanis was once again incapable of even conceptualising saying no to his grandmother and accepted the title, or that the idea of abandoning her legacy and his family would seem insurmountable to him when he has been raised to believe it’s all he’s for and he is the last one shouldering the weight. but i am saying this with total and absolute confidence: this is another prison and he is going to die in there if nobody gets him out.

[technicallyastar]

Sentinels- (Insert name for this series, send your suggestions in the comments)

Summary, Being exposed to monsters all the time makes one a bit blind to them. Sometimes, they need a more severe reminder of the truth.

TW: Graphic description of violence and gore

The window lingers above you, the sky beyond it, all of it an abstract frenzy of shaking movement. 1x’s crimson stained face emerges from the ledge, looking down at you with a pitying frown for a few long moments. Shedletsky’s face appears then, cutting off him and everything bright above, and dragging you very suddenly down into warm darkness.

“H…hey. Hey, do you hear me?” he asks, voice strained with held-back tears. It’s too dark to make out anything but the tunnel’s exit, but you feel Shedletsky’s calloused hands carefully touching your throbbing skull, getting caught in your blood-soaked hair. “God, that’s…it’s bad. That…fucking bastard.”

You recover from your stun enough to piece together what had just happened. 1x1x1x1 was chasing you up the stairs of Yorick's resting place, and landed a entanglement right as you were crossing the bridge to transition into your next loop. It had stunned you, and instead of dropping back to the wood, you fell uncontrolled to the poisoned stream below. And you’d landed right on your head.

“Im... I'm okay... Shed” you slur, trying to give some comfort.

“Your…your head is wide open. I think…I think this is….” Shed drifts off, tracing his fingers around one aching spot on the back of your head. You lose his sense of touch in a particular area, but don’t understand what that means, exactly. Your face feels a little stiff where the blood is beginning to dry. “I can’t heal this.” The pain grows more and more unbearable as he talks.

“Don’t go,” you whimper, before you can stop yourself. You try to lift your arms at all, to grab onto him, but they’re dead and twitchy at your sides.

“I’m not! I’m not going anywhere, hen.,” He says. His words are followed by a snotty-sounding sniffle, and a bone-crushing hug as he spoons you in the dark, claustrophobic tunnel. The match continues above, producing a myriad of fading sounds. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry….”

Shedletsky speaks right into your ear, but his voice slips into the far-off distance.

Guest's gloved hand is on your throat.

Hot blood... Your blood seeps into the heavy duty fabric no matter how much he tries to stifle it. Tears are in his eyes as he tries, and tries watching the blood continue to trickle like the sands of and hourglass ticking down the inevitable. Still he continued, but crushing your windpipe would hardly help, would it?

“I’m going to patch you up, just hang on,” he says while hanging over you. His voice wavers. Beads of sweat roll down his face. Grimness lines his sharp features, not due just to the mangled state of your jugular, but to the fact that hes failed... Failed at his one job.

Even in your bloodless haze you can guess what’s going through his mind. Guest is devoted to the protection of everyone, priding himself on defending who he deemed worth protecting, and the prospect of 'failing' that duty, at the cost of someone he loves so dear...

“Gue-!” You try to call his name, but the shredded muscles of your throat spasm and cramp. Blood chokes and bubbles behind your lips, runs from the corner of your mouth. You felt the musculature of his arm flex as he hugged you tighter to his chest.

“Stop—stop talking,” he snaps in a whisper. “Conserve your oxygen.” But that’s already long-gone, you think. The sky overhead is a whirlpool, the ground beneath you swimming.

You reach up with a shaking hand and cup his strong cheekbone, drawing his eyes away from some gauze he’d produced from a medkit he'd had. (You both knew they wouldn’t help, but guest was desperate, you could see it on his eyes.)

“Sss…’kay,” you manage to croak out. He didn’t do this. He couldn’t have stopped this. You need him to know that before you vanish for a while. His face crumples up with displeasure…and then starts to slacken. His hands loosen too and the blood flows freely. The corners of your vision grow fuzzy as Guest leans down and gives you a soft kiss.

“We’ll talk about this more later. I’ll see you tomorrow, love,” he says, voice ushering you to sleep.

You felt rustling from above you in your last moments, you felt your body slack as you were lowered too the ground and the heavy material of your lovers heavy jacket being laid over your form. The warmth soaked into your cold draining body.

Your ears are ringing.

There’s not really any reason for them to be. All things considered, the wall coming down wasn’t that loud, and neither was your screaming. But your ears are ringing like you think Chance's must have during that horrible event so much like this moment. Aside from the volume, everything is exactly as he’d described it on those late, sleepless nights. The dust, the dark, the agonized cries. Somewhere in your scrambled mind, you’re sure Chance sees the ghosts of his spiteful 'bestfriend' about him, but it’s just you there, trapped under the rubble of a collapsed walls. You’ve seen single portions of wall collapse in previous matches, but never anything like this. iTrapped had somehow managed to bring down an entire section of the sprawling building. Right on top of you.

You’re wailing and screaming for Chance, and he’s just sitting there, mere feet from you, paralyzed. His face looks like a dead man’s.

“Chance!” you scream, almost incomprehensible. His name leaves your lips along with all the air in your lungs, the rubble crushing everything out of you. You’d never dared to imagine what this kind of death felt like. Never wanted to experience the horror of it. And the pain is beyond words. Every cell in your body screams wrong, wrong, pain!

The rubble continues to settle, shift, and somehow it all gets worse. Your bones give like fragile chalk. Your abdomen shifts, squeezed from the bottom-up like a tube of toothpaste. When you open your mouth again, blood and bile gush forward, followed by a bulge of something horrifically organ-like that chokes your airways. You claw a desperate hand towards Chance, and he reacts only by numbly pushing himself away.

His back hits the far wall, still staring with unfocused eyes, and over the wall above him you spot iTrapped amble into frame. He’s grinning, albeit tightly.

“Don’t mind him,” Your boyfriends 'bestfriend' says, stepping around the wall. Stepping on Chance like he’s an insect. Stepping right into the pool of your liquified viscera. “Sorry, babe, you know I wasn’t aiming for you. Just trying to give that one a hard time. That sure looks rough, though. Let me help you out real quick.”

You’re crying, but there’s no air to sob. Only bloody, salty tears as your feel yourself about to burst from the mouth. iTrapped raises his sword—perhaps the one mercy he’s still capable of giving—and brings the heavy point down on your head.

There’s so much blood. Your blood. It’s unnerving despite Two Time’s assurances that it’s good.

From your position, though, it’s hard to see how this is good. Only you two are left in this match against Azure, and you’re only meters from death’s door with a porcupine’s worth of nightshade thorns lodged in your body. The wrecked assassin grounds does not help the mood, and freedom being so close marked by the ticking clock in the back of your mind is but a taunt. They'd have a win at hand, if only Two Time would flee. Two Time, though, is determined to drag your mangled figure out of the match with them no matter how much it cost.

And it was costing a lot of hurt. The thorns caught in the dirt, in the cobblestone, and pulled on your flesh and muscle, poking and swirling around inside your bruises it's poison slipping into your exiting blood.

“Go,” you gasp, hiccupping in pain. If they'd go, secure the win, you could die faster too. The pain would stop faster. “Go, Time—go. I won’t…last. Go.”

“You need to tough it out,” They says through gasps of strained effort. Their soft face is twisted with determination. They are not a physically strong person to begin with, and the added weight of both of your blood soaked clothes is only making this harder for them. Their skin and hair are dripping with blood, sweat, and mud. “I told you I can do this. Spawn rewards the- ghhg... tenacious as he rewards the strong.” In the not-so-far distance, you hear a cocoaphony of schlick sounds. Azure.

“Timey,” you sob, crying dirty tears. Everything is blurry, indistinct. A bubble of blood comes up with your next scream of pain, “Go!”

“I am not afraid of death,” Two Time snaps at you. “I only fear the wrath of spawn- YOU hrggh- were gifted to me by spawn... I will not forsake you nor spawn's generousity.” Suddenly, they drop you and their hands are all over your body, your wounds, on the ground. Touching until their fingers and palms are running with rivulets of your blood. Then he starts smattering it about your form with a desperate speed you’ve never seen. A mania-like joy overtakes their eyes as they smack, poke, and smear your blood back onto your skin.

“May spawn have mercy on the both of us,” you hear them say. When they grab you up again, you jolt with a scream and realize, foggily, that you blacked out during their creative process. And will black out again, despite the pain’s best efforts to keep you conscious. Two Time starts dragging you again, tucking you away in a spot they'd lurk in a multitude of times, setting you down before planting a single chaste kiss to your forehead. When you look up, you see Two Time darting away, and a flurry of purple hawking past your impromptu hiding spot, hot on Time's trail.

[sennerixx]

What bugs me most is when people say Stolas is "falling out of love with Blitz" just because he's not smooching Blitz to death or reciprocating the affection Blitz is giving to him in the final two eps. No.

Love doesn't magically cure depression, no matter how much love someone can be given, unfortunately.

His life before "MASTERMIND" was already a shit hole, in the throes of losing Blitz and the Stella scenario, the only good thing that ever happened to him was his daughter, Via. He says in "SINMAS", "You have always been the only good thing in my life," he's desperate at this point, desperate not to lose something so precious to him and a reminder he's probably not taken his medication since he was "exiled" so he's probably already "unstable" in the sense he's not what Via is used to.

After the scene with Via and Stolas, Stolas is most likely dead set on thinking Via hates him. He's crushed and is blaming himself for everything, especially after not being able to explain. He feels that he's completely lost his daughter, forever (while I'm hoping this isn't the case) at this moment it feels like it.

Perhaps it might've gone better if Stella allowed the phone call (though we all know that was never going to happen) and Stolas had a chance to explain himself.

While yes, it was his choice to save Blitz and take the blame. Stolas didn't do it to get away from her, he didn't even know how she'd act to it, it was an in-the-moment choice that Stolas didn't get time to think through and bear in mind, Stolas went to save Blitz with the idea that this was it, he was going to die to save Blitz, he wouldn't even be around to apologize to Via.

Going back to my first point, love doesn't magically cure depression, it takes a lot of time and can be very draining to deal with. Throughout the episode, we can see how exhausted Stolas is.

As a person who's suffered with this myself, depression is different for every person but I do know it won't magically go away just because you're in a relationship. While it can make you feel better, it's not a miracle cure.

Depression is something that lingers and takes patience, time, and a lot of gooddamn resilience to conquer, and even then, people still have their shitty days, who doesn't?

It annoys me when people have such black-and-white views on things or only see what they want to see, if some people took a moment to take a step back and actually reevaluate the situation, they'll find what I'm saying.

I'm not surprised Stolas didn't return the hug at the end because he's still grieving the loss of his daughter and Vias grieving the apparent loss of her father, he's still feeling like the shittest person in hell, still processing all these feelings and everything that's happened all while dealing with depression and an already serious shitty lack of self esteem, motivation and confidence in himself.

What im trying to say, Stolas isn't falling out of love with Blitz, he just needs time to heal, recover, and readjust to the new lifestyle he's been thrown into.

And with fingers crossed, work things out with Octavia in the next season.

[dog-bimbo]

shiu kong x fem!reader 18+ only — imagining shiu being put on a sex ban or something like that mfgghhmmfmh >////<

minors and ageless blogs dni !

a/n i love writing shiu being sleazy but im going through something rough as of late so i made it a bit fluffy, just a little though he's still a bastard in this fic <3

he hates his clients, he hates the assassins that he brokers, he hates the clean up crew and most importantly, he hates condoms. what he doesn't hate is having his balls deep in you after a long day even thinking about your gummy, wet walls has him leaking cum through his boxers. a sex ban right in the middle of his commision is just cruel...

"i'm on birth control," you meekly reply. you're usually quite open with him, he's a great guy to be around but right now? his head is practically exploding you've never seen him be THIS devastated by something... but he quickly masks it after swallowing a lump in his throat. "two weeks, i can do that." he replies with a shrug. "you can just wear a condom if you're that bothered, y'know?..." but that's the last option for him, his final resort.

the first week was hard on him. it felt like the client and the assassin wanted him dead instead of the target—this feeling really was an exaggeration (atleast to some extent) being blue balled is what really drove him crazy. he always reeks of cigarettes, for sure, but it has definitely gotten worse... with that pretty pastel blue sundress of yours, how could he not bend you over the counter and hump you in broad daylight? when you're sitting on his lap while watching a show that you both love, how could he keep his hands away from stroking your clit through your panties with his thumb? when you're reapplying your lipgloss while you're on a date with him, how could he stop himself from pulling you to his car to make you kiss his cock? restraining seemed unnecessary in these areas yet, it seems like he's taking this as a challenge of sorts... it's strangely uncharacteristic of him since he's a no BS kind of guy.

he's not a sex addict trying to recover, he's just a bit ashamed that he's thinking about nothing but sex with you out of all people. you're an absolute delight to be around, all lovely and soft and dreamlike. he never allows himself to loosen up but with you, it's quite natural for him to relax. you're more than just a one night stand—you're the light of his life. also, that condom remark felt a bit patronizing. it was like you were throwing him a bone out of pity.

him having bad days meant that you'd be put in a mating press. he could feel his stress melting away as he buried himself deeper and deeper in you with each thrust but now? he's found better ways to cope with it. all you wanted for him is to be less reserved but when he's that exhausted after sex, you don't get much out of him. he's talking a whole lot now— about the clients, about the assassins, about the stupid dinner meetings and the clean ups and the indepth reason why he left law enforcement.

the second week was considerably simpler for him. first of all, the ashtrays in your shared apartment was no longer overflowing with cigarette buds, and shiu no longer wanted to kick the client's teeth down his throat each time he opened his mouth.

but it's you who's going crazy now. he's such a gentleman, a master at being dominant and assertive even while he's not doing anything sexual. everytime his huge hand rests on your waist, hip or thigh, you want him to bunch up your skirt and pound into you already. he's all man—the scent of marlboro reds and cologne drove you insane. you wanted him to press his huge body against yours already... your slit weeps for him and he's just so, so good at licking it all up—he gets high off the sweetness of your cunt. when he lifts his head up after eating you out and making you cum on his face, his pussy drunk expression is everything.

he's also good at noticing things and he knows that at the end, you're the one who's all needy and desperate.

he wraps his hands around your waist as he kisses you. it wasn't sweet, it was rough and hot and you could feel his hands going down to reach the hem of your skirt. he was stingy with the people he tolerated and extremely generous with you—you're his sweetheart after all. it's happening... maybe he's gonna give up on this little abstaining phase of his.... but he pulls away, "just wait for three more days n' i'll fuck you till your brain melts out of your ears, yeah?" he's got that shit-eating grin when he lets go of you.

you're no saint—you're just as desperate for him as he is for you and he wants you to know that.

[maidragoste]

hey hun! im sorry for your loss and i saw u post abt needing distracting. so could u write a jace x reader? it could be any plot you want whatsoever and could it be a modern au? as well fluffy! is that okay?

Hi, how are you?

Thank you for your message 💖 I'm sorry it took me so long to upload your request (in the end it cost me more than I thought to recover and then university and trying to find a job overwhelmed me) but I hope you like the result 🥰💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

It hadn't really been Jacaerys' intention to wait for you to come back from your date. He should be doing some college work but instead, he's watching TV without paying attention to it thinking about how the hours are passing and you still haven't come home. Your date should be fun if you don't text Jace anymore. Jace shouldn't be worried about you because he knew Rhaena would never have set you up with an idiot but he still couldn't help being worried.

Jacaerys wanted you to come home and see if you were okay. It would hurt him to hear the details of your date and see you all excited about another boy but he would bear it.

If only Jace wasn’t afraid of ruining things between you two then he would have taken you out himself after hearing you complain about how your love life is dead instead of letting Rhaena set you up with one of her friends. But Jacaerys is sure that you don’t see him as more than a friend and he doesn’t want to risk losing you so he doesn’t make a move. He's content with being able to be in your life, with the chaotic mornings of the two of you getting ready before going to class, with your text messages telling him everything that happens to you during the day, with the nights cooking together and with the breaks where you watch series snuggled together on the couch.

Jacaerys looks away from the TV as he hears the keys clicking into the lock. You walk in and Jace feels a pit in his stomach because you don’t look excited, you look defeated? Your eyes meet his and you give him a tired smile but you quickly break eye contact to take off your coat and sneakers and then run to the couch with him.

“So you wanna talk about it?” Jacaerys doesn’t even finish asking how much you’re already talking.

“It was fine. He’s nice and we talked for hours. Everything was going well until the end because he tried to kiss me.” If you hadn’t been busy fidgeting nervously you would have noticed how your roommate seemed to tense up all of a sudden. “I declined and he wasn’t bothered but it was awkward.” You sighed.

“Why did you reject him? Are you the kind of person who has a rule of not kissing on the first date?”

“Because I don’t like him” you declared, suddenly looking up and for a moment, at the intensity of your gaze, Jace forgot to breathe. “I could be his friend, but I’m not interested in him in any other way.”

“Oh” was the only thing that came out of the surprised man’s mouth.

“Oh,” you repeated, “Why did you wait for me, Jace?”

“Who said I was waiting for you? I was watching TV” he denied instantly.

“Jace”

Seeing your beautiful eyes looking at him pleadingly for a moment, Jace was afraid to give in and confess everything to you, as for more than a year he can’t stop thinking about you and wants to be more than your friend. But again, he’s afraid of making you uncomfortable and losing your friendship, so he asks instead.

“What does that have to do with you not liking your date?”

“While I was with him I realized that I actually wanted to be home with you” you confessed and instantly regretted it when you saw that he remained silent. “Forget it. I'm sorry for making it weird” You got up ready to go to your room so you could have a crisis alone about ruining your friendship with Jace when he took you by the hand and pulled you causing you to end up on top of him.

“Oh no, I don’t plan on forgetting it, not when I’ve been pining for you for over a year,” he stated making you smile.

“You’re a coward,” you mocked without malice. “Over a year and you never made a move. You’re lucky I decided to act.”

“You’re right,” he said smiling unbothered. “Now that we’ve established that I’m a fool and you’re the best, can I kiss you?” he asked and you laughed feeling delighted with him.

“Try not to sound so desperate to kiss me.”

“Can you blame me?” He arched an eyebrow, any embarrassment or fear he felt disappearing the moment he knew his feelings were reciprocated. “I thought a lot about kissing you and I finally have the chance.”

At his confession, you felt heat on your face and your smile grew. “You're such a fool.” You took his face in your hands and felt your heart warm at the softness with which Jace looked at you.

The moment your lips touched his Jacaerys knew he would become addicted to your kisses. He would look for any excuse to kiss you as many times as he wanted. You would probably become the clingy couple that his friends would make fun of. But he didn't care and he didn't think you would either because you were kissing him with the same intensity.

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♯┆summary; With the mention of a rebellion against your lover and a third party mysteriously arising in the midst of a war, Haruto’s home life.. All piling upon themselves, worry after worry. The last thing you want is bloodshed.

♯┆ tags; established relationship, implied child abuse/neglect, canon divergence,

♯┆ w/c; 3.8k

♯┆ a/n; plot-heavy, somi park training arc 😭 help im so tired. also a pt.2 of my previous shingen fic ^^

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That night you rested in his loving arms, his hair draping over your body. No matter how gentle he were, singing you sweet lullabies when he realised you were still awake, your body simply refused all efforts to relax.

Stress has taken over your mind, and it’s as if your not the one in charge if your body. Has anything even changed? Everything you did seemed futile. Whats the point of even trying anymore?

Your turned your body more into his warm chest, and tried to forget everything. Clear all these useless thoughts, push them to the back of your head and finally let your mind relax. They crawled from the pit you banished them to and caused trouble as if to taunt you.

What did Shintaro mean that day? Rebellion. Shingen, pronounced dead? There’s a reason why he’s the leader, have they all forgotten? Deep down you know he will remain undefeated, yet the thought of him paralysed on the floor, crimson blood pouring out of his body gnaws at you. What would his last words be? Why, what, when, who — is it just impossible for you to rest easy?

Shouldn’t you tell Shingen? Sitting up, his hand draped from your waist to your thighs, and he wearily blinked awake.

“What’s the matter? Can’t sleep again?” Shingen muttered, half-asleep.

“Yeah. I’m going to go get some fresh air and a drink. You go back to sleep, alright baby?” You placed a kiss upon his forehead, and he rested against the pillow once more, taking your word.

The cold breeze of the night calmed you only a little as you walked towards the kitchen. Stars and moon alike, you watched as they formed detailed constellations upon the sky — one of a knife and a moon. That reminded you: Shingen would always call you his star, and you’d call him your moon. His favourite inanimate thing was the moon, shining brightly at night and disappearing by day. He’d say it’s represent him as youth, however not going to deeply into it. Shingen’s expression whenever it came up in conversation were.. unusually troubled. As if it haunted him and had to shut it out for years, just for it to reappear when he least expects it.

It made you wonder what happened, who made him this way? If anything, you wanted to seek revenge, and yet you couldn’t.

Rules must’ve stopped him from falling in love with you in the first place, just like how rules are stopping you now. If it wasn’t so frowned upon, you would’ve taken uo marital arts and higher education. Being born into this life stopped you from being you, stripping you from your talents to being in a uniform, dystopian society called impossible expectations that we name as the ideal life for women and those alike. Same with Gun, your only son, becoming a slave to this system.

Letting out a sigh you didn’t realise you were holding in, you carefully slided open the door, revealing the room you were so used to seeing. Leaning against the counter, taking steady small sips while sneakily opening a tablet of sleeping pills, you could only hold your head in your hand. You’d be damned if anyone realised you snuck in pills like these, yet you needed them. You hated the fact you needed them. Each time you swallowed it down your throat, it only reminded you how you were so dependent on this clan. Having your families reputation boosted this way was the only way to recover it in the first place, realising how much they’ve messed up everything.

You cursed under your breath, and a headache came upon you. It must be from all these unwanted thoughts reappearing.

“I see you’re up late.“ A familiar voice echoed in your ears and you turned to look at the tall figure, Shintaro. Worst timing. You were only wearing a small nightgown, you were dressed too informally to be met with someone of upmost authority. Undeserved authority. Rules were the only thing he cared about. Setting aside his own emotions and others morals, he made sure everyone fit into this idolised society. Its was as if it were our fault we were born and raised into this life. The way he re-enforced these problematic beliefs were like it were law, despite not abiding to the real law in the first place, resorting to violence when and whenever he pleased. His manipulative tactics made it seem as if he were a befitting leader for the clan, drawing everyone in with the whip of his fan and his smooth tone of voice. Shintaro’s undeniably astounding looks have him the upper hand, even the other ladies from other clans chattered amongst themselves when they found out weren’t married yet, flirting with him whenever the opportunity arises. As they say, ‘you should marry into power and wealth.’

It wouldn’t be wrong to say they gained and admired Shintaro more than Shingen’s leadership. Shingen may be blinded at times, yet he had the brain capacity to understand complex situations and arise new rules and regulations when change were necessary. He weighed the benefits for the people, always upholding them as first in his mind, as they were to live peacefully under his guidance. On the other hand, Shintaro twisted the rules to fit his own narrative, manipulating them as to seem Shingen made it this way, to seem as it were his fault the Yamazaki were so divided. You didn’t trust him and avoided all communication and conflict, as he’ll make them turn from you too. It was no use anyway — they already wanted your head on a pitchfork.

“Yes. My apologies for any disturbance I’ve caused, I’ll go back to my room—“

“Wait.” Shintaro started, taking slow steps towards, gazing down upon your avoidant one. The moonlight cast shadows over the room, completely still, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Every ounce of your being anticipates his next move, and your breathing stopped.

“Why won’t you rebel? Can’t you see we’re all unhappy under his rule?” His hand lifted to rest upon your shoulder, the force crushing your collarbone just enough not to break it. The knife was sitting there in its rack, and it felt as if it were staring at you, begging to picked up. If this were to go on, he may as well break your shoulder.

In one swift motion, you ripped the knife out of its rack, its sharp end reaching his lips, glistening in the moons radiance.

“Didn’t you hear me the first time? Unless you want your head splattered on this floor for me to clean up, I don’t want to hear another word.” Stern, serious and strict. Underneath this facade, you were shaking. Knife trembling in your fingers, you upheld your scrutinising gaze, watching as his hand fell to his sides. Shintaro didn’t want to admit that he saw Shingen in your eyes, the same look he gave him that day. The same strength that beat him once before was in you. It dawned upon him that you may have the ability to become as strong as Shingen one day, however that was only a meaningless hunch. Someone like you is simply just a joke.

“I could make you my wife, and give you everything you’ve ever wanted. Unlike him, who only disappoints this clan. Why would you want a leader like him? Talk to the people of this clan, wouldn’t you?” Grasping onto the knife, Shintaro pointed it towards the ground gently.

“Didn’t I say I didn’t want to hear another word from you?”

“One last chance. I’ll give you one, last chance.” He swerved in closer, breathe cold against your ear. Gripping onto his collar, you shivered, pulling him away.

“Get out of my sight, you hear me? Next time, I’ll delve this knife into your throat.” You growled, the thought of it all making your blood boil.

Shintaro sighed, accepting that boneless threat as an answer. “Fine, as you wish.” Yet you knew this wouldn’t be the last time he would do this. Having you in his side would make one less corpse to clean up, and an easier way to excuse the bloody murder he were scheming.

The two of you exchanged one last glance, and the tension eased as you were left alone to your own thoughts. All this time you avoided troublesome matters like this, and it finds you when you least want it. The knife rested in its holder once more, and you took a deep breath. Ignoring this won’t do you any good, yet telling your lover he may perish in cold blood doesn’t seem exactly appealing. In fact the opposite. It pains you to even think about it.

Again, you’re up until morning once more, resting in the sun’s golden rays. Taking a deep breath, you entangle your fingers in your lovers hair, eyes lingering over his facial features. He slowly winked awake and rested his hands over yours, mumbling a ‘good morning’ under his breath.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, I just woke up early, that’s all.” You sighed, pressing a kiss on his cheek. Of course, you didn’t want him to worry, he must be too busy himself anyway. For years you’ve been independent, so it won’t be any different now.

“There’s no need to lie. If there’s something the matter, I promise I’ll make it right.” The gentleness in his eyes soothed you, yet not enough to let those damned words spill out of your mouth.

….,

Word has spread that Gun has taken up Aikido. That day you prepared his lunch, and decided to watch him train. The smile on his face when he saw you sitting in the side warmed you, as you enveloped him in an embrace.

“Mum, youre here.” He cheered, doing small punches in the air to show off what he’s learnt.

“Of course. I’ve just been a little busy lately. Look, I made you tteokbeokki.” You smiled. It was your favourite thing to watch him being happy, knowing it might not last long.

“My favourite!” Gun licked his lips, clasping onto your hands. “I’ll train extra hard today, okay? Watch me, watch me!” He hadn’t seen you in ages. As a young boy, he wouldn’t understand, and doesn’t need to even take notice of your situation.

“It’s time for training.” The Kojima brothers, also one of the many supporting Shintaro’s leadership. As if they’re his personal bodyguards, they spread his propaganda like major gossip. Perhaps the news about the rebellion is being tossed around as the second passes. Shigeaki passes a distasteful glare at you before diverting Gun’s attention to the task at hand.

Since Gun was only young, they decided to teach one of his nephews how to do Aikido as well. They couldn’t personally spar with him because of the height, age and experience difference, and an intelligent opponent like Haruto would be well-suited.

Similar in age, the only difference was their upbringing. Haruto was a secluded boy who was subjected to the cruel opinions that he were useless because of Gun’s existence. Instead, his mother offered reading. In her view, if he couldn’t be the best at fighting, why not intelligence?

It almost reminded you of Shingen’s and Shintaro’s situation. He was born to succeed, while the other was made to cover up after his mess. Since Shingen were the oldest, he were given privileges like fighting and only sometimes playing around. Shintaro, on the other hand, were interested in martial arts yet never got the opportunity to persue it like he did. The notion that he were to protect his brother — no, dedicate his life to him — eventually seeped through the cracks, and jealousy took over. Nobody cared what Shintaro did, whether he ran away or not, he was always in the shadows. Shintaro always presumed he never struggled, having everyone by his side supervising him, yet little did he know he did.

He didn’t know that Shingen didn’t like training for so long, knowing his only purpose being only to prosper and become the heir to the Yamazaki clan. They only praised him for his fighting abilities, nothing else. This clan only critizied his interest in artistry’s and such, To leave a peaceful life and play games with his brother were his goals, yet Shintaro only treated him with coldness. The awkward, suffocating air between them never subsided, and still persists until today.

For centuries it was like this, and old tradition that you plan to cease from existence.

Haruto used strategic methods to trick his opponent, Gun, to the floor. What the Kojima brothers didn’t know was that intelligence and usage of technique was also important in a battle. Jonggun was trained to use brute force, which was in fact also crucial, yet he didnt have the ability to predict his next moment, therefore his next attack was based off of quick thinking. The way he grabbed his arm and flipped him into the floor resonated with you, something inside made you want to learn that too.

Then again, it would be against the rules.

“Auntie, did you see that?” Haurto smiled, pulling you in to a hug. He’s just a young boy too, why can’t he also train to be the best? Why are we, as humans, so dependent on a genetic abnormality?

“I’ll beat you next round!” Gun pouted, sticking his tongue out, teasing the other. Haruto made a snarky remark back, and they quickly started getting ready to spar for another round of Aikido.

Haruto’s mother doesn’t deserve him. No, not at all. You’ve noticed how he always comes to you for his troubles, advice and support. On the outside, she seems like the perfect mother — sparing only kind words to her only son, caring for him — yet in private, what does she do? Those bruises speak for themselves; just what has he gone through? At the occasion his long sleeves that he always wears slips up, a new one appears, and he shakes it off like it’s normal, changing conversation or distracting you while he pulls it down. Guilt washes over you as you couldn’t bear to admit that his experiences would haunt him for the rest of his life. Nobody deserves that.

“Mum! Are you watching?” Gun’s voice, steady with his hands in starting position, bring you back to reality. You clap and cheer with a smile, and watch each and every step. Haruto wins once more, and Gun slumps over towards you, disappointed.

“How about you two teach me how to fight in Aikido style, and I’ll give you the tteokbokki I made. Fair trade, huh?”.

…..,

In Korea, Gapryong’s Fist Gang rests in the comfort of their calm surroundings, under the warm light of a chandelier in the midst of a cafe. Warm light crests a warm atmosphere, the coffees fumes diffusing into the warm breeze the windows let in. Idle chatter

Jinyoung’s mysteriously studying human anatomy, sneering while holding his pencil ever-so intimately. Gapryong peers over his shoulder, taking a quick peek of the monstrosities he’s been hiding recently. Strangely scientifically accurate art pieces of the human skeleton, limbs, organs and veins. His obsession with skulls were disturbing, graphically capturing every hollow, rounded and crisp surface of the cranium. Teeth. After beating his victims, he’d pull out their teeth, collecting them in jars to preserve them. Not just any tooth, the wisdom tooth were his favourite. If he could, he’d slice each finger — in fact the whole hand — and inspect each and every crevice. Teeth were easier to steal and nearly as satisfiying.

No matter how close these four men were, fighting all their battles together, none of them knew the twisted layer under his skin that were slowly taking over.

Jinyoung has suspiciously became quieter recently. Before he’d wear a smile on his face and kick up conversation like it was nothing, offering hand wrestling or the sort. Now? He’s preferably keep to himself, not saying much and focusing on that sketchbook. The scratching across the page, eyes peeled, breath becoming more dragged by the second. Insanity? He’d be the last one you’d suspect. Someone as outgoing as him would never, or so the other three members thought.

Do they even know eachother?

“So, about the Yamazaki Clan,” Gapryong starts, finger tapping against the table. “The police showed up last time, and we had to flee. What a bore.”

“That’s right. I’m sure they’re dwelling in Korea still.” Elite yawned, breaking eye contact with a grin that didn’t seem so frustrated.

“I’m sure we’ll get em next time, y’know?” Gapryong bites his bottom lip, leaning back in his chair.

Silence dawned over the atmosphere, as if someone was wanting to say something, yet left it to the next person. Elite took a sip of his tea, not lifting his eyes off of his cup while tapping his foot on the wooden floor. You could never tell what thoughts were running through his mind. Its was only obvious by his course of actions, what steps he took and what blood he shed. Actions and foreshadowed speech were the way to figuring out his intentions, it were no use to just ask him, being such the perfect liar he is. Precisely, this is the reason they didn’t predict his newest project, designed to leave thousands of corpses, particularly the three bodies he wanted. And he won’t stop until he gets what he wants. Call him greedy as you may, but a guy like him has no bounds to getting what he pleased.

Maybe it’s the trust between them all, why they didn’t suspect him. All these years must’ve meant something to all of them. To Gapryong, it was true friendship — who didn’t like someone to trust and keep company? To Tom, it meant loyalty, a group you could share anything to. Nowadays it felt like that idea has went astray. To Jinyoung, — well, the Jinyoung they used to know — it was exploring the world with the people you value most, laughing all night with a couple of drinks. To Elite… What was it to Elite?

He pulled up his glasses, scanning their troubled faces that avoided the other’s eyes.

Tom sighs, taking it upon himself. “You’ve all heard about that clan recently taking over…” Elite’s breath stopped, batting his eyes in disbelief. Jinyoung paused, letting out a sigh before continuing scribbling. Gapryong frowned, running his hands through his hair, swigging his chapstick out of his pocket.

“That’s right. It’s becoming worrying. I beat down some of the lapdog’s of the organisation, yet none of them will speak, no matter how much you torture them.” Jinyoung spoke softly, voice remaining neutral, yet his heart felt like it was the end of the Fist Gang. No, it can’t be over yet. Not before his plan takes place.

“Then we’ll have to talk their boss.” Gapryong spoke, stern, completely set on the idea. Whether it meant a simple polite introduction or a brutal brawl rid of mannerisms, his determination remained intact. Gapryong wasn’t the type to give up.

“Y’know what? Let’s drink tonight, I want to meet some lovely ladies before I do.” He smirks and passes a seductive wink over to the barista standing behind the till, watching her blush and rush to cover her reddened face. “Who’s with me?”

Tom agrees and Elite pauses for a second, eventually nodding. Jinyoung sits still, despite the wait for his reply. They all expected him to cheer and boost the atmosphere.. Yet nothing passed his lips.

“You’re not coming again, eh?” Tom breaks the silence once more, trying to look in his eyes for answers but to no avail, as his overgrown hair drapes over his face. Jinyoung shakes his head.

“Hey, you’ve been slouching all this time, shouldn’t you stretch? C’mon, it must be tiring. Loosen up a litle.” Tom tried to use the enthusiasm Jinyoung always used to and reach his hand over his shoulder. However before he knew it, his hand was squeezed with a strength he had never felt before. It felt as if his grip has restricted blood flowing into his hands, making them begin to numb.

Jinyoung’s gaze finally lifted over his sketchbook, and they finally got a glimpse of his face. His twitching eyes were an unusual shade of crimson red, each vein eeringly connecting from his sclera to the inside of his lower eyelid. Jinyoung always loved applying chapstick, loving the soft and glossy feeling upon his lips, except this time, they were chapped, with open, bleeding wounds and drool edging at the corner of his lips.

“I’m fine.” Jinyoung muttered, rubbing his tired, bloodshot eyes. No one muttered a word, staring with shock. What could they even say? Their friend — their once friend, as they could barely recognise the man he’s become — is now.. insane? Insane was the first word that came to mind to all of them. And all of them knew they weren’t far off.

….,

“Shingen. Haven’t you heard about that new clan has risen recently?” You ask, while raising your fork to your lips.

“Mmm. It seems so.” Shingen’s voice trails off, taking a sip of the transparent wine provided. “Perhaps it could be a problem. Especially since the Fist Gang and our clan are still under conflict… It is a relief we wasn’t arrested last time.”

“We’ve recovered well. Although a third party seems suspicious. Someone must be backing them, not every odd gang that shows up can be that strong and popular that quick.” You mention, and now that you think about it properly, hidden forces must at play here.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, huh? It won’t be a big deal. Like any other gang, they’ll fall to the hierarchy around here.” Shingen tries to reassure, using his authoritative tone to try and distract you from the concern written all over his face. He already knows they’re wiping out other small gangs and clan, then heading for the big prize. Nobody can be certain that they’re next, therefore it’s no prediction that they’re preparing their forces.

A third force making things complicated at a time like this cannot be a coincidence. At first, Shingen figured it must’ve been that cursed man’s Fist Gang, yet it’s unlikely they would. Someone’s pulling the strings behind the scenes, however there are no leads to show so. Only mere baseless intuition.

It makes you wonder — who? Each are loyal to their own side, especially during a tense time like this. They must’ve known a huge scale war between two major clans were going own, taking this into their advantage. Your eyes look down upon the food in front of you, then to your lover sitting opposite you.

Him, as a corpse? Dead, in front of you, his body cold. His pulse not throbbing anymore, breathe not passing his lips. Blood spilling under his body gallon by gallon, at an alarming rate. You could only cry as his eyes didn’t flutter open no more.

You’re overthinking again. Just another one of your tainted daydreams.