#so if you want to read things in PROPER timeline

[berryless]

"What, want me to ruffle your feathers?" Tav asked with a smirk when she caught him staring, as if she didn't ruffle enough of his feathers prior to this moment—figuratively speaking, most unfortunately.

The owlbear's cub sprawled on its stomach beside her, head on her lap as it was cooing something. Given how eagerly it butted into her hand, rather obvious what it was after.

He took a step back, arms raised as he refused, "I'll abstain for tonight. Afraid the competition's too fierce for me to win this fight without any losses. Tomorrow, though…"

He let some hope into his voice, tone laced thick with promise.

Astarion looked at Tav, waiting for her answer, and she nodded to him with a smile on her lips.

"Wonderful. I'll be awaiting then. Most eagerly."

So easy.

Too easy.

He should've known better, but perhaps he was momentarily blinded that she'd finally given up keeping her distance.

Tav played with his hair for a good part of the evening, and Astarion tolerated it—the experience was quite enjoyable, if he was to be honest, but those weren't headpats that he was after. Finally the time came to take the heavy weapons against her, those that he was most proficient at using. Those that hardly ever betrayed him. And he needed Tav to not betray him either. To protect him, when hardly anyone in the camp was terribly happy about having a vampire in their midst. If Cazador… When Cazador… Even though Astarion didn't need to breathe anymore, the air staled in lungs when he thought about this. He needed Tav—and everyone else she have eating out of the palm of her adorable little hand—to stay on his side when that happens. Because as convenient as it may've been, out of many advantages the worm gave him, making his master forget about his existence wasn't one of them.

Her fingers raked his hair and scratched his scalp, sending him into shivers as Astarion couldn't help but lower his guard a notch. He wasn't an inexperienced youngling, still wet behind his ears. He wouldn't miss the change in her touch when it was most familiar to him. It would be rather convenient for Tav to hold his neck or slide her fingers under the lacing of his shirt, so Astarion expected that. Ears too were a good starting point… Lips, perhaps, if she was feeling adventurous for a sharp touch of his fangs…

He turned to the side, forehead pressed against Tav's stomach to let her get to the back of his head. Then turned again, face buried in her lap.

As tedious the pointless waiting went, this kind of foreplay was not without its pleasures. If she were to continue fondling the rest of him in same manner, Astarion wouldn't mind much. If anything, the thought was getting him rather excited, albeit weary in a similar way any kind of sex did. But it was familiar kind of wear he was most used to, so Astarion was slipping into it with ease like one would into old boots they've long been donning. Perhaps the heels were stooped a bit from years of use, and the laces were frayed and brittle, but those were the boots he'd worn for as long as he could remember. He didn't have a spare, if there even existed a spare the likes of him could afford.

Finally Tav's hand stopped, resting on his neck as she barely moved her big finger against the edge of his hairline.

He knew it was coming, and yet a part of him was strangely disappointed.

Well, no point dwelling on it.

Finally it was his turn to…

"Think I'm spent for the evening. My hand's cramping. Want to lie down for a little while longer, or you'd prefer to rest on something more comfortable than my lap?"

Her question came most unexpectedly. At first Astarion thought he heard it wrong. But when he raised his head to check Tav's face, there was nothing special on it, like she was asking something mundane, barely worth of notice. And it was a rather mundane thing to ask. If you weren't expecting anything else to follow.

She wasn't.

It stunned him when Astarion realized that.

Thankfully it lasted barely a moment, and then his instincts kicked in.

"Why? I find your lap a rather enjoyable place to rest my head on."

'It would be even better if you were to let me put it between your legs, but I suppose I wouldn't get much rest then,' was supposed to follow, but somehow it got stuck in his throat. He couldn't even say why at first.

Because she wasn't flirting. Because it wasn't foreplay. Because she just offered to ruffle his feathers in a most simple, primitive, childish way possible, and never planned to stretch the invitation to something more salacious and titillating.

Ruffled his feathers she did.

With much too fervor.

Astarion hardly remembered the way he traveled back into his tent and what he said in the process. Surely it was something appropriate for the occasion, he could trust the habits beaten into his skull by years of use.

No wonder she agreed so easily. He must've been blind not to notice.

He laid down, curled into a ball, sulking—for what, Astarion couldn't tell.

Perhaps it irked him that his plans fell through, and the cooked duck flew away from his mouth when he was so close to biting into it. What else could've been the issue otherwise?

But most strangely, a tightness in his stomach loosened as soon as he was left alone. He breathed with ease, warm ticklish touch of Tav's fingers lingering on his skin.

Safe.

From what..?

He didn't know.

[blacknailsandheartbreak]

Imagine Zuko is working at the Jasmine Dragon and you are a regular :)

I love the small town coffee shop/ cafe feel, and when you throw in a romance trope- I will smother that MF in butter and eat it for my final meal. I love my grump x sunshine tropes, if you couldn’t tell. 

This one isn’t really following a proper timeline or story, cuz I’m not using Zuko and Irohs fake names and they really are just chillin in that tea shop for this story, BUT just a fluffy idea I really like. Anywho, fluffy and some steam ;) that gets steamy. (WINK WINK)

WC: ~2100 words

So let’s imagine…

Age of Admission: 18 and Wrinkled

Zuko is a server at the Jasmine Dragon tea shop owned by his Uncle Iroh. It became super popular very fast and you thought you would check it out. You walk in one morning and come to meet the owner, he introduces himself as Iroh. He is very kind and as you two talk, you find it is only himself and his nephew who work there. Iroh points out his nephew and when you turn to look where he motions, a figure disappears into the back. You thank Iroh for his kindness and say you cannot wait to come back. You would end up becoming a regular that would come in and read for a long time when the shop was quiet but leave when it got busy.

When you would come in, Zuko was always conveniently the one to help you. He would take your order, he would give you your tea and come by your table to check if you needed anything. He was nonchalantly cold to you but… not…? You would always smile and thank him and try to make small conversation, but Zuko never really engaged, he wasn’t rude and would agree with you then quickly move on. But over time, you noticed Zuko never stopped at any of the other tables to check on them, only yours. 

Over time it is very apparent that Zuko has the biggest soft spot for you but tries not to show it. He constantly stares at you, but glances away before he gets caught. Iroh obviously takes notice fairly quickly and tries talking with Zuko, but it is short lived. Iroh comments “You two would complement each other quite well. Not to mention the smile she brings out of you, now that's quite the achievement.” Zuko only rolls his eyes as he walks into the back. 

On another day you had been sitting for almost an hour finishing your second cup of tea, in the last few chapters of your book, Zuko was glancing at you from behind the counter as he dried a teapot. Iroh tried again, “You should talk to her.” Zuko visually tenses, “What?! No! What would I even say??” He said in a harsh whisper. “You are overthinking nephew, she always tries to spark a conversation, just let your conversation rivers flow and intertwine!” Zuko looked at him blandly, Iroh gave a soft smile, “A compliment can go a long way.” Iroh patted his shoulder and went to walk among the tables conversing with the customers.

One day you had stayed particularly later than you had thought as a rush didn’t happen and you were very into your book. Eventually Zuko walks over to you and places down a small dessert, it was some sort of pear tart. You smiled up at Zuko and thanked him for the kind gesture. “Yeah, we are closing soon and there happened to be some left that didn’t sell.” Zuko said. You shot up, not noticing the time, “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize the time. Can I take it to go?” You say standing and gathering your things, you start apologizing for holding them up but Zuko was only half listening as he looked out the window at the dark street. He was worried about you being out so late and walking home alone. He cuts you off and insists it's fine and to wait till after they close and he would walk you home. Your heart flutters as it was something you knew you wanted but didn’t realize how badly. You smile and nod your head in thanks, but Iroh had overheard and insisted that Zuko could head out now as he could close himself. 

Zuko and yourself walked along the main street, the night was dark but the street lamps lit your way. You hold your book with both hands in front of you as you talk about what happened in the many chapters you read tonight. Zuko and you walk side by side, you smile as you explain the events, Zuko listens but is watching around for anything to be cautious of. You both make it back to your apartment and you thank Zuko for the kind gesture and offer him to come in. To your dismay he declines, you were sad as he turned away and waved goodnight, knowing it was out of good chivalry. After what felt like the longest walk home of his life, Zuko returns to the tea shop. Iroh welcomes Zuko back and asks how it went, Zuko snapped “Do you stick your nose into everyone’s business, or just mine?” Iroh looked at Zuko for a moment, “She asked you to stay, didn’t she?” Zuko scrunched his nose and didn’t reply, he walked back to his room.

You had come down with a cold and didn’t return to the tea shop for a couple days. But little to your knowledge, through those couple days Zuko found himself waiting for you to walk through the front doors. He found himself looking at the door every time someone walked through but disappointment cooling his veins when it wasn’t you. 

After almost a week goes by you show up again, Iroh welcomes you back warmly and insists your regular order will be out swiftly before walking into the back. You smile and take a seat, pulling out your book, not long after Zuko is at your table with your tea. Zuko makes a comment about your absence and you explain how you had gotten a cold and then tease him about missing you. Zuko starts to try and back track his comment, you can see a bit of embarrassment peek through as he tries to cover up his feelings that showed through his concern of you missing. You decide to take a leap and try to show him it's ok. “Well, I missed your company too.” you said warmly, as Zuko composed, someone walked in and up to the counter. Zuko added it was nice to have you back before heading to serve the customer.

A rush started that afternoon so you marked your place in your book, paid and left. You spent some time in the market and on your route home you passed the tea shop. You walked by slowly to see Zuko sweeping by the front door, he looked up and questioned why you were out so late. You smiled and explained about the market, told him about the shops and liveliness. While you were talking Iroh pops out from the back mid question for zuko, but pauses when he sees you. He exclaimed how nice it was to see you again with a warm smile walking to you and Zuko. You return the gesture and brief him about the market that you explained to Zuko. Iroh agreed it sounded fun and insisted You show Zuko, all closing was basically done and could finish up by himself. 

You and Zuko made your way to the market and walked around, there were many food stands, flower stands, jewelry stands, fabric stands, anything you name it was probably there. As you both walked and you talked, a cool breeze started setting in so you looped your arm through Zukos and walked closer to him, commenting on his warmth. Zuko only hummed and continued on with you, even though his heart was totally a butterfly exhibit at that moment. Once the market was fully explored, Zuko offered to walk you home again as it was very late and he should get you home.

Once again you both ended up on your apartment door step. You thanked him for a great night and him walking you back, you unlocked and opened your door, offering again for Zuko to come in. Zuko starts to insist he leaves but you cut him off with a kiss. Zuko was surprised for only a split second, but kissed you back, placing his hands on your waist. You pull away and look up at him through your eyelashes, “Please, stay for a bit”. He looked at you, “Are you sure?” he asked, keeping his hold on your waist, your shirt parted slightly from your pants and the warmth of his hand hummed against your skin. You held his gaze while you grabbed his hand, taking him inside. 

Once you were both in, you handed Zuko the keys, he closed the door and locked it. The second he turned around you moved in, you placed your hand on his jaw and chest. Zuko lavished in your kiss and put his hands on the small of your waist, bringing you in as close as possible. You felt the warmth of his body against yours, but craved more. You grab the bottom of his shirt and pull up, Zuko releases you and grabs his shirt, yanking it off quickly, returning to your lips. But this time his hands didn’t fall on your waist, they reached to the back of your thighs, hiking you up with ease as pleasant yelp of surprise from you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. The kiss was so hot you pulled away, your head falling to the side as Zuko moved to kiss your jaw and neck. “Zuko…~ah!” He hummed in response, “Zuko, bedroom… behind us…” Zuko promptly moves to the door you mention, pushing it open with his foot, stepping in and swiftly closing it with a firm but gentle kick.

Zuko set you down on the bed, you eagerly took off your shirt and you laid chest bare, not having worn underclothing today. Zuko’s hands were immediately on your torso, and chest. As Zuko kissed along your neck and collar bone, you scrape your nails down his shoulders and slide your hands along his arms, feeling the lean build of his muscle. Zuko asks if this is ok, what you both were doing, you wasted no time in confirming you were more than ok with it. You grab the waist line of his pants and pull him close, he grunts and pushes himself further against you, you gasp. Zuko goes to remove your pants, you raise your hips to quicken the process. You now laid bare before Zuko, everything for him to see. You could feel the vulnerability creep in and the natural urge to cover, but you knew you were comfortable and this is what you wanted. Your hands worked his trousers and slid them off. Zuko stood proud as he hovered over you, laying between your legs. Anticipation slid around your stomach, you kissed deeply, you could feel Zuko at your entrance, you gasped. He leaned back and looked down at where you met, grinning. Pushing forward slightly, his head pushing against your kitten. “~mmh… ah!” You moan out as he pushes further in, Zuko lets out a breath as he rests on elbows over top of you. He pushes in all the way and an audible gasp leaves your mouth as you could swear he hit an organ. He pulls out and slides back in, in the most devilish way of feeling like he is hitting deeper with every thrust. Your eyes roll back as his hips move in the perfect way, feeling his skin against yours, his muscles move against your body. Zuko puts his arms under your knees and spreads your legs wide and pushes them up, giving him better access as well as deeper penetration, which is baffling to you in that second until he continues. Now nothing is going through your mind except Zuko's breath and your moans in the air. You felt a knot in your stomach form, you tapped on his shoulder and told him you were close. He groaned and kept going as you fell apart under him, almost reaching his peak as you became so sensitive you couldn't contain the moans coming from you. But before you could think, he was about to climax. Zuko cursed and pulled out, cumming on your stomach. You both are absolutely racked from the events, Zuko takes a deep breath in, kisses you and says he will be right back. He comes back with a towel, cleaning you up and laying next to you. 

You lay on his chest and relax, both being out of breath, Zuko said something that shocked you. He exclaimed how he missed you the week you were home sick, and not at the tea shop. You smiled sweetly and cuddled closer to his warm body, explaining how everyday you couldn’t stop thinking about him either.

[satorhime]

⁺　 ୨୧ . ᕀ SUGARSTREAM ♡ | ˚｡꒰ gojo satoru x female reader ᨀ ꒱ minors do not interact ᨀ w.c 9.2k˓˓ explicit smut, camgirl!reader, fanboy!gojo, virgin killer!gojo, cherry chasing, sex toys, anal play, candy play [ gojo fucks the reader with a lollipop ], virgin kink, corruption, teasing, cum play, age gap [ gojo is 33 + reader is in 20s ], fingering, masturbation, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, dumbification, praise, orgasm control. ˚｡ SUMMARY ᨀ gojo satoru has a big sweet tooth, an insane amount of money to spend on his favorite camgirl and most importantly, a dick that corrupts innocent girls for life.

gojo satoru has a big sweet tooth.

he can always be seen ordering a frappuccino with five pumps of caramel syrup and extra whipped cream at starbucks, showing up to morning training with an entire platter of chocolate dipped berries, or suckling a tootsie pop with obscenely inappropriate noises during important meetings because the components in sugar stimulates his brain, giving the right amount of rush someone like him needs to keep sane.

his credit card is most swiped at sweet shoppes and random souvenir stands that sell his favorite melon sugar cubes, or the zunda and cream kikufuku he likes so much.

because his appetite for the sweeter things in life is insatiable.

that's why it isn't a surprise he developed a craving for you. he's always had a greedy taste for doe-eyed young women and you happened to be exactly his type. saccharine smile, giggly laugh, and a head full of bubblegum. ijichi kiyotaka's sweet little apprentice who skipped through the halls eating strawberry hi-chews for lunch instead of proper meals, wearing tiny little skirts and rootbeer flavored lip gloss just to torment gojo into wanting to lick it onto his tastebuds.

pure and lovely, you've become his favorite sugar rush.

and with the help of pop culture and social media, he can have a sample before he finally buys the product.

RECENT TWEET FROM @xoyoursweetenerxo: i'll be streaming in 10 mins wearing new lingerie! come take a peek at pixelme.jp/sweetener

that's the alert that begins gojo's unraveling, rolling into his notification center. his heart kicks up an irritating notch when he flips his phone over in his hand and reads your username on the screen. he can feel the curious eyes of his three former students on his back as they trail him down the hall, but he has tunnel vision and cotton ears, their incessant chatter echoing in one ear and out the other.

“gojo-sensei, did you hear anything i just said?” megumi snaps, his annoyed tone barely registering.

“i heard a rumor that he finally has a girlfriend now, that's why he's always so distracted,” nobara gossips into yuuji's ear, the two casting a long, knowing glance at their mentor.

“so it's like that?”

“it's like that.”

“what were you saying?” gojo asks distractedly, lifting one side of his blindfold to unlock his phone, bringing up the twitter app. his main account loads first and he spares a single glance to nanami's weekend vacation update, two for tsukumo straddling her motorbike in hokkaido, and none for aoi ranting about takada's dating rumors at the top of his timeline.

he never hears megumi's reply because he's too busy switching to his private account, an empty lurker with a black photo. eager to click your profile.

tonight's stream invitation is pinned at the top, decorated with pink hearts but he ignores that for now. making sure to hold his phone at an angle his nosy ass kids can't peek at, a long pale finger swipes up to bring the scroll down to a spam of grwm selfies you just posted, a ritual before your streams. you're cute as a button in each one, but it's the last one— on hands and knees, ass pointed to the camera—that makes him groan, the sound covered up by an exaggerated sneeze.

“um, gross!” nobara screeches at him, folding her arms and leaning away. “you sounded like a middle aged dad.”

satoru stops his long stride suddenly, masking his irritation by reaching into his pocket for his wallet, flipping the leather open for a spare credit card. he hands it to kugisaki with a pat on her head, grinning when she slaps his hand down and pockets his card without question.

“you know what? mission’s canceled for tonight!” he cheers, already heading in the opposite direction, shooting finger guns. he's eager to get away from his kids and to his office where he can concentrate on your stream. “go out without me and have fun!”

he waves off their confused looks, disappearing in a flash. attention glued to his phone like a teenaged boy. the sorcerer feels his cock twitch to life in his pants the longer he stares at your picture. you're wearing a skater dress that barely covers your plump ass, giving your twitter followers a tease of soft skin and cute stretch marks on the back of your thighs.

he knows that if he wants to see more, like the devastating visual of your slit spread around your favorite dildo, he'll have to join the stream and tip up.

not many people know about your other life. the angel who brings in sponge cake and iced coffee each morning to gojo, who shyly refuses to meet his stare whenever he walks into the room, unable to stand the intensity of his flirtations, is a camgirl with views high enough to land you in the top rated tab. people tipped you good and in return, you let them control your pleasure.

and gojo satoru is your biggest fan.

he hadn't been stalking when he found out. he'd just been passing by one of the staff rooms with the intention of terrorizing ijichi and found you instead, boldly streaming from your phone, whispering i bought my first vibrator! should i try it at work?

those annoying hot girls in your area, click for more! ads weren't needed because gojo had never made an account so fast.

and if he tuned into your grainy stream from his office, cock shamelessly fisted in his hand as he watched you push your panties to the side, phone camera positioned in an upskirt shot of you struggling to fit the small, vibrating toy inside your tight little cunt? mind your business.

he unlocks the door to his office now, shutting himself in before he clicks the streaming link, letting his phone redirect to the site so he can log in.

username: honoredone89 password: hollowedout28

"is the stream stable? hi, welcome! we'll get started soon."

the sound of your airy, girlish voice rings out from his phone as he falls into a leather lounge chair. you're streaming from your room this evening, dressed in frilly and frothy lingerie and a pair of lacy thigh highs, sitting up on your knees on a bed draped in a white gossamer canopy.

rosy led lights wash out the pretty tone of your skin in a soft pink glow, selling your sweet and innocent image. gojo figures that's why you're so popular— you feed right into their desires to turn out girls like you, drawing them in like worker bees to honey.

“how's my apprenticeship? it's going so good, thank you!” you answer a comment from one of your regulars, waving shyly at the viewers pouring into the virtual room.

“this won't be a long stream since i have to wake up early tomorrow, but...” you prattle on, leaning forward to check the viewer count. gojo's attention is drawn to the plump swell of your breasts in your bralette. god, he wants to run his lips all over the lace so bad; tonguing and biting over your nipples through the flimsy fabric until they're bitten raw. “while we wait for more to join, what did you boys do today-”

“ah, shoot. i almost forgot!” you gasp, twisting around to lean out of the canopy; opening the drawer on the nightstand.

as you rummage around, bent over, you accidentally allow your fans to admire the panties you're wearing. crotchless and lacy, the clips of a garter attached to your stockings. the backshot gives him a perfect peek at the shadowed seam of your pussy too, the little scraps of fabric on the front kissing your clit.

but more importantly, he can see the heart-shaped glass plug buried in the dip of your ass.

oh. well, when did you get that?

his tastebuds water, sweet tooth waking up for cravings. a quick decision made that he will stop holding himself back and get a taste of you, that he will be the end to your innocence.

in2feet chatted: this is boring hurry up and get naked

nakedman chatted: location? i'd fuck your ass so good kitten

it was obviously unintentional because your look of ditzy confusion is too cute when you turn around with the matching dildo, shaped like a sailor moon wand. but it ends up being the perfect way to begin your stream— tips roll in without prompting, chat pinging with comments.

“hehe, what are you guys- o-oh..” your question ends in a small sigh that makes his cock throb in his slacks. the air feels stagnant and warm in his office so he drags his blindfold down, unbuttoning the high collar of his jacket. you settled back on the bed too fast, the glass flare of the plug in your ass shifting, pushing a little deeper, twinging an unfamiliar lurch in your tummy. “t-to be honest, i've never used a plug before so it hurts a bit.”

a young starlet improvising on a mistake, you lift the wand to your lips. pastel pink tongue peeking out to wet the tip as you blink innocently at the cam. "can i put this in the other hole to distract myself from the pain?"

gojo can feel his brain rotting down to the stems.

you settle against the cloudbank of pillows, bringing your laptop a little closer to finish setting up and check the time. “before i start, i want to remind everyone that i'll only take requests from the highest tipper tonight!”

cyberme chatted: whenever you're ready, baby. we're watching!

cyberme and 10 others tipped 20 hearts

tittystan (★ tip) tipped 50 hearts

“you guys are so sweet!” the sound of the tip bell and chat alerts fill the volume of your room, drowning out your voice. lewd requests and thirsty comments begin to chime in, begging for you to remove your bra, show your pussy, play with the plug in your ass.

you have these men wrapped around your little finger, even though their hearts will be cashed out for real coins at the end of the night.

tittystan (★ tip) chatted: play with those pretty tits for us pls

“is this okay?” your impatient thumb rubs over a clothed nipple, shivering at the touch. more tips fumble in and gojo can see you build the confidence you need to push your bralette down, tucking it under the curve of your breasts so they spill right out.

fuck... he can't help but imagine his large digits replacing yours, dragging the calloused pads of his thumbs over your nipples until you cry and his thirsty ass can drink up your tears.

satoru shifts, leaning back in his barcelona chair as he reaches down to press the heel of his palm to the swelling bulge of his cock at the same time you squeeze one of the fleshy globes into your hand, a soft whine whistling past your clenched teeth.

jacker82 (★ tip) tipped 250 hearts and chatted: fuck yourself on the dildo alr!

you nod at the comment, opening your legs a bit only to snap them shut a heartbeat later. “i-i'm sorry, i'm so nervous tonight!” your teeth chew against your bottom lip as encouraging comments ring in your chat, words of praises that urges you to go further.

posessiveness burns green through his veins at the comments from other men, but he knows how to take what he wants and right now, what he wants is your attention only on him.

honoredone89 chatted: don't be nervous. i'm with you.

honoredone89 chatted: go on and open up for me.

gojo doesn't miss the glow of arousal in your eyes as you read his comment, your heart beating faster than it ever has. honoredone89... you missed seeing his comments on your streams. he felt more like a collaborator, unafraid to poke, prod, tease. the way he talks shit at you leaves you soaked and whining each time, wondering who he is; crying into your pillow whenever he'd toss down five hundred to make you cum, then throw down another five to switch up and edge you at the last minute. want me to change my mind, angel? he'd chat out and you could almost taste his smirk.

you would be lying if you said that your little crush on this anonymous person had nothing to do with him reminding you of the white-haired fox you were instantly drawn to at the start of your apprenticeship. honoredone89 could very well be one of those creeps that records cam shows to reupload to shady porn sites or a catfish. after all, his profile picture is the lower half of a (really fucking gorgeous) mirror selfie. but considering that a man like the actual satoru wouldn't return your silly, growing affections, you're fine with cosplaying.

“o-okay, sorry,” you obey him so easily, parting your knees, finally giving your fans a view of your pretty pussy in those crotchless panties. gojo should be ashamed, but he groans at the sight. you sigh as the cool air breezes over feverish skin, cooling the wetness clinging to your folds. it's why your fans love you so much— so wet during streams, no need for lube when your cute little pussy drools out the sweetest nectar no one has had the pleasure of tasting.

“look at you, sweet girl. you got any idea what you do to me?” you've barely shown anything and he feels like losing his fucking mind.

satoru should feel guilty for what he does next, but his conscious is crystal clear. mind blank and too fucking horny to think about propriety, he unbuttons his slacks. fishes his cock out to squeeze at the base, relieving some of the ache. his balls jump desperately as you slide the glass toy between your legs on the screen.

then his phone pings with a notif the moment you press the tip to your clit— a text from megumi dropping down, covering his view of the torturous circles you rub around the swelling nub. a swipe further down and you prod it against your entrance, panting out a low whine that knocks the wind out of gojo's chest, ears ringing.

“p-please let me put it inside!” you cry to the chat, noises so pretty. you'll sound even prettier when you're under him, squirming and pleading for him to fuck you until you live only for the feeling of his cock.

gojo's summer blue eyes scan over the message from megumi, ensuring his kids aren't in danger while he fucks himself off. he chokes off breathy groans so he can hear your moans, rubbing the rough pad of his thumb over the tip of his cock. muscles in his stomach twitching in pleasure as he nudges it inside the slit so clear, watery precum dribbles past his fingers to spill down the long length of his cock.

user20180407 chatted: fuck yourself already i'm so hard!

instead of gojo replying to an annoyed megumi complaining about having to go to a pachinko parlor (yuuji's idea, no doubt) with the others, he taps the tip button before he can stop himself.

honoredone89 (★ tip) tipped 1050 hearts

honoredone89 (★ tip)  chatted: just your fingers tonight, sweet girl.

"c-can i put them inside?" is your immediate answer.

honoredone89 (★ tip) chatted: nope, don't think i want you to do that.

the unhappy comments from your other viewers almost gives him more pleasure than the feeling of his palm rubbing out his cock in rough strokes.

“okay, thank you, sir,” you tuck in with a soft smile. he knows you're thanking him for the fat wad of cash in your tip jar, not him snatching away your pleasure, but the sound of the honorific from your lips sends a zip of arousal straight down his spine. the way he fucks into his hand is messy now, dragging his hand up and down his dick. precum coating his fingers white, dripping onto his slacks. “thank you for letting me touch my clit.”

he's your highest tipper and your pleasure is always in the hands of your tip jar. setting the toy aside with the hope he'll let you use it later, you open your legs until your knees touch the sheets, joints in your hips aching. reaching fingers to the opening in your panties. you're so soaked, pretty lace all darkened in spots. you spread your folds, circling your clit with two fingers.

“oooh, o-oh.. it's not enough, please let me-”

“hope y'r this greedy when i feed you my cock, princess, fuck. gonna... give you what you need soon, don't worry,” he promises to the empty air, sweating hard beneath his jacket with his hand tight around his cock. imagining that he's got you right here in his office, fucking up into your pussy as you struggle to bounce on him. on the phone, his speaker rings with your frustrated whines. your thighs tremble as you rub your clit too fast, making it sore.

a few attempt to match his price and tip him out, wanting control over your delicious pleasure; wanting you to use the dildo so they can imagine the little toy is their cocks. but unlike the cheap fucks swarming around your chat, the black metal of his bank card is limitless. there's no one that can stop him from blowing hot cash on an even hotter girl so he does. doubling your tips, tripling it down each time.

the sorcerer has plans that won't be ruined by old men escaping nagging wives and stressful jobs by twisting their dicks to the moans of pretty girls.

at the end of the night, he plans on adding another maraschino cherry to the top of his ice cream sundae.

but that all depends on you.

now when did he close his eyes? on his screen, gojo almost misses it. the prettiest sight.

“c-can i cum, sir?” you simper to your fans, to him. “fuck me. it.. it's right there. please say yes, please please!” circling the pad of your finger under the hood of your clit where you're most sensitive at, you slide a hand up your body to squeeze one of your breasts. a soft gasp pushing out to join the squish of your fingers rubbing through the wet between your thighs.

honoredone89 (★ tip) tipped 2000 hearts!

user20221030 chatted: this rich fuck is so annoying stop hogging!

gojo sounds like a maniac when he tosses his head and howls at the comment, unrestrained laughs choking off into a deep moan when he strokes down and squeezes the base of his cock. fighting off his orgasm for a torturous edge to himself.

honoredone89 (★ tip) chatted: since you can't hold it, go on and show everyone how pretty you are when you cum.

“yu-yes, sir!”

gojo wasn't lying. even the lagging connection to your stream can't dim the beauty you are when you reach your high. it burns a hole into his brain, tearing shivers down his spine as he watches the band snap as soon as you answer his comment. it's real, but you make it pretty, arching off the bed, thrashing, clamping your thighs together as you cum with strained whimpers.

reluctantly, he takes his wet cock and tucks himself away, hissing as the sensitive head presses against the zipper of his slacks.

“did you guys cum too?” you're asking shyly, ready to end your livestream. gojo cleans his hand on his blindfold with a snort at the viewers complimenting your show.

user203020 chatted: u need to block that rich dude. it's unfair. not coming back until u do

cyberme chatted: so hot, kitten. see you next time!

tittystan chatted: don't go babe i didn't get to cum yet :c

sitting up, you wrap your arms around your legs, chin resting atop your knees. your body still trembles with the aftershocks of your little orgasm, but you pull the laptop closer with a blissfully tired smile to answer questions, goodnight wishes, and thank your viewers for their support.

“thank you so much! if you have ideas for my next stream, leave a reply on twitter,” you say distractedly, tapping on your laptop.

gojo's phone buzzes with a notification shortly after and he's not surprised that it's a message sent to his account on the cam site.

xoyoursweetenerxo ♡ : hi >< you were my highest tipper!!! do you have any requests for me?

is what the message reads and gojo wears a big smirk as the cards deal a lucky hand just for him. he cradles his phone in both hands as long fingers fly over the keyboard to reply.

no more time wasted after he's blown away hours, weeks, months on the chase for you.

honoredone89: you know what? i think i do!

honoredone89 is typing . . .

honoredone89: open your door for me.

404 error: this livestream has ended!

somehow, that leads to gojo satoru standing in the middle of your room at jujutsu tech.

you'd barely had time to fix your lingerie and clear the smudges of your lipstick before a familiar rap of knuckles was at your door— the same rhythm gojo knocks against your desk each morning to get your attention.

he looks out of place standing in the frills of your pink wonderland, led lights turning pure white hair the color of blush as he glances around at your bishoujo figurines, sanrio plushies, and special edition manga volumes.

“cute,” he comments with an amused smile and points, your cheeks warming as you follow his line of vision to the sailor moon dildo sitting on your sheets, forgotten. “where's the other one?”

“h-how did you know...”

“still inside you, i take it?”

“h-how!” your reaction is adorable, different now that you're in front of him. fiddling with the ribbons of your robe, unable to watch his gemstone blue eyes darken to a deep pit of arousal when you nod.

with the feeling of a hare caught in a trap, you watch as he crosses the tiny space to stand in front of you. crowding you against the kitchenette with his imposing six foot three stature. though you want to shrink away, there is something about him that beckons you closer like the limitless, making you want to stay close to him and soak up more of his attention.

“ah, um- i bought these for you earlier today!” you blurt out to him in a hurried whisper, scrambling to reach for the decorated jar of lollipops you intended to gift to him tomorrow. “there's cream, melon, cotton candy, there's matcha too because i know you like-”

“you scared of me?” he wonders, but he accepts your distraction, plucking a cherry-flavored lollipop for himself, amused.

“no!”

he's very attractive without his blindfold, snowy peaks of hair sitting wild over his forehead. you watch as he unwraps the treat, tasting it for the first time like he's tasting you, his tongue working around it; swirling and licking it obscenely on purpose. waiting for that shift, the shameful press of your thighs even though you just had an orgasm. falling for it, you shyly avert your gaze and gojo fights down a smirk.

“there's no need to be nervous, you know,” he soothes, hooking a finger under your chin. the deep croon of his voice curls down your spine, bubbling hot desire in your tummy. "i'm right here with you."

“i-i'm not nervous!” you say, wanting to reassure him that he is welcome even though a small voice tells you to run.

after all, haven't you heard the rumors about him?

compliment him in any busy ladies room and you'll summon rumors that gojo satoru picks cherries like a farmer. that gojo satoru fucks girls high in his penthouse, only to drop them low when he ushers them to the elevator hours later. that gojo satoru—

i don't believe it, and your naive schoolgirl crush on him bats those thoughts away.

“obviously a camgirl wouldn't be nervous, silly me,” he nods, tone light and teasing. he tilts his head to the side as he reaches for you, thumb easing your silk robe apart. sensual as he pushes it off your shoulder, a shiver rolling down your spine. “did you mean what you said?”

“what do you mean?”

“in your stream,” he hums, skimming up the curve of your neck. fingernails scraping lightly over your pulse, and his cock aches at the strangled sound you make. “when you begged me to touch you, fuck you. did you mean what you said, sweet girl?”

“the tipper... honoredone89...”

“was me, yes,” he points to himself, smiling. it takes a little while for realization to dawn and he thinks you're too sweet. god, after he finishes breaking in your cunt, he wants to protect you from men like him for the rest of his life. only after, though. “expecting someone uglier?”

where you should feel mortification, you feel sticky and full of attraction for the older man in front of you. how many times did you fuck yourself on two fingers while watching couples on cam, imagining gojo was there and pressing your legs to your chest while he fucked the inexperience right out of you? how many times did you wish that snarky regular on your streams was actually him?

“g-gojo?” you call softly, peeking up at him through thick fans of lashes. twiddling your fingers together in a gesture so fucking cute, it makes his stomach churn. “can i ask you something?“

“hmm? go ahead.”

“how many virgins have you fucked?”

“why? you wanna be my one and only?” he teases, a mocking grin set on his lips. “you're really a virgin... too sweet.”

“i didn't say that! i.. it's the reason i started streaming. to learn more! it’s an experiment because i don't know how to make someone else feel good.” you're babbling, the words rushing out too quickly as you fidget and grip the hem of your robe, looking down to avoid his eyes. “will you teach me?”

“if i teach you, don’t think i’ll go easy on you,” his grin is wicked before he reaches down to ruffle your hair, as if you’re a precious little gem to him. “it’s nothing to be ashamed of, sweetness. it just means i’ll really have to put my back into it!”

putting his back into it means fucking you absolutely dumb, but you don't need to know that yet.

the way he looks at you is an awakening. with a little burst of confidence, you make your own decision; burying your fingers into the collar of his jacket, bringing him down for your first kiss. it's a little awkward with the stick of lollipop in his mouth and your inexperience, teeth and stiff lips until he takes the lead. his lips feel like clouds and you want them everywhere, want to kiss him forever. sink his soft groans into your skin, keep the taste of candy flavored spit on your tongue for the rest of your days as he licks into your mouth, coaxing feelings out of you you've never felt before; kissing you into dizziness.

“please,” you pull away, eyes begging— he only needs to be told once.

he takes it in stride, smirking around the stick of lollipop. he draws his hand down, fingers sliding under your bralette to toy with the doughy skin of your breast, rolling a nipple between two pads until the bud pebbles under his touch.

then his path switches, traveling lower and you know exactly where his hand is going. heart fluttering wildly, you whine and nervously press closer to him, hiding your face against the front of his jacket.

but you weren't stopping him, you didn't want to. curiosity coaxes your desire for gojo satoru out of its shell. the entire reason you started exploring the world of porn and cam shows, frustration and curiosity. most women your age had bloomed and blossomed. they were experienced while you felt left behind. never been taken on a date, never been kissed, never been fucked.

a clean slate for the taking.

“i wonder why you're so pretty, hm? been torturing me for months, sweet thing,” gojo nudges your feet apart, tongue pushing out the lollipop for one last suck, his lips star candy pink. making you want to kiss him again. “want to taste you instead.”

“you mean...”

“don't worry, i'll take good care of you,” he gently plucks your hands from his jacket, lowering his lithe body to the floor in a fluid motion. he props one of your thighs over his shoulder, shamelessly spreading your pussy open for him.

cheeks heated, the sight of gojo staring between your legs with a ravenous glint in his eye is too much. your hands fly over your eyes, but he's not having it; reaching up to snatch them down. “good girls keep their eyes open, don't they? how will you learn?”

he hasn't even touched you and yet, lust buzzes an ache between your hips that is driving you crazy.

“good girls deserve to know what it looks like, what it feels like to have me right here,” he continues and leans in to press a trail of kisses to your inner thigh. nips and marks along the fleshiest parts, chuckling at your quiet yips. he slides a thumb between your folds, splitting them to play with your clit. you feel like falling as he circles between your thighs, a gasp hiccupping at the base of your throat before you choke it off.

“g-gojo-”

he builds the anticipation. getting you used to the motion of something familiar before he opens your pussy for business— the sweetest dessert all for him before the main course. “so what do you think? gonna let me taste how sweet this pussy is, angel?”

“what if you don't like the taste?” you hesitate, hand slipping into the milky clouds of his hair. “i-i heard that happens.”

“trying to keep it all to yourself?” he teases, eyes shining as he crooks a smile at you. he indulges you with another feathery kiss to your thigh, his hand on your hip, caressing the skin lightly. “there's no way i won't like the taste of you. not when i have this-”

before you know it, he presses something warm and sticky to your clit, replacing his finger. when you realize just what it is, you whimper loudly.

“oh, oh god. y-you're supposed to use your fingers-”you point out halfheartedly. gojo drags the sugary ball of the lollipop against your clit in tantalizing swirls, smearing the sticky cherry syrup across your pussy and mixing it with your own juices.

“i'll clean up after myself, sweet thing,” he reassures, nose pressed to the soft curls at your mound, breathing in your heady scent before he tips his head forward to taste you. this is his favorite part- the possessive feeling in his chest once a virgin is on his tongue, knowing he's the first one to look up and see heaven above him. to hear your soft whimpers and feel the unsure tremble of your thighs.

“how does it feel? you like it?” he asks, kissing your clit with a gentle suck that tightens the muscles in your tummy. he licks against you with skill, tongue a warm wetness over your clit. the feeling gojo pulls from you is all new, butterflies between your hipbones as your cunt flutters around emptiness.

“i think i like it, sir. i-it's so-” you whine, the honorific a slip up. ashamed to talk filth to a man you're assigned to bring oversweetened coffee to every morning. it's so easy talking to the men behind your camera. they're blank faces that pay for a performance and to be soaked in the right words. in person, in front of the man who brings you alive, your tongue is tied up in the heat he licks into your throbbing pussy.

“sir, huh?” you can feel his grin spread along your lower lips, his chuckle vibrating against your skin. he stiffens his tongue for a harder lick, quick flits that bathes your clit in bubbly spit, burning pleasure into your nerves that drives you to tears.

gojo's fingers press bruises into your squishy thighs, locking you in his strong hold. he trails the syrupy sphere of the sucker down to your drooling little hole, nudging until he slowly works the candy up into your pussy at the same time he sucks your clit back into his mouth.

you choke out a wet sob, your hands pushing at his shoulders. squirming and trembling, plush walls clamping down around the hard ball of the lollipop with a wince as he fucks it in slow, his eyes focused on the way your walls slurps it inside.

nothing could have prepared you for gojo satoru fucking you with a piece of candy.

“bet your fans would love to see this,” he muses, releasing your puffy clit with a shameful pop, a trail of spit and slick connecting you to the sorcerer's chin. “you can barely handle a piece of candy. look at this cute little pussy struggling to take it.”

he can't hide his arousal when you taste this good, smacking and slurping like his last meal on earth is between your legs. you release a frustrated whine when he removes the candy, but he appeases you with his tongue— dragging the pink muscle down to curl it into your pussy, the squishy feeling of it making you squeak and grip the edge of the counter behind you.

gojo mumbles a deep groan, tastes so fucking sweet, curling his tongue in and out of you languidly, your squeaks tapering off into breathy pants. he's running out of patience, your noises shooting straight to his leaking cock, but he's determined not to rush. he wants to savor your first time. savor the sweet taste of sugar combined with the earthy flavor of you.

he has to make it good so you remember him after you inevitably come to your senses and make him leave before he breaks your heart.

his palm moves up and lands on your breast, squeezing too hard but you whine for the twinge of pain, placing your hands over his larger one. you hold him like a lifeline as he makes good on his promise of cleaning you all up— drinking down every little drop of candy coated slick until you run dry, until the wet slide against your folds is because of his spit.

“i-i'm-” the stretch of his tongue is so good, your eyelashes wet as you chase the sensation. second orgasm on the brink with his skilled mouth licking and suckling over sensitive nerves. you could end it there, cum on his tongue and let him tuck you into bed after, but you've had enough of not knowing what it feels like to be manhandled down onto a bed, kissed slow, and fucked open by his cock.

you want it to be him and no one else.

“you close?” he reels back, lapping at the entrance to your heat, a tease that makes you cry out. blues flit up to look at you, gaze soft and patient even though his desperation to be inside you has him fraying at the seams. when you nod at him, pushing your hips forward, begging, he grins. “didn't you already cum tonight? who taught you to be so greedy, hmm?”

“i-i'm s-”

“you think you can hold it for me? no, i know you can. hold it for me baby. don't cum.”

“n-no, don't! wanna cum, please please- wanna cum so bad!” but he's not hearing it. he pinches your clit meanly until the twinge of pain clouds over your orgasm, laughing lightly as you drive your fist into his shoulder in frustration, a hit that doesn't hurt him one bit.

he pats your mound with a smile but before he stands to his full height, he ghosts his sticky lips over your ankle as he sets your foot to the floor, teeth grazing the anklet you're wearing. a tender kiss that has no business making your heart flutter like that when he's so mean.

“i'll make sure of it, but right now i need you to save it for me, pretty princess. i promise it'll be so much better if you cum around my cock.” the sorcerer whispers his filth to your ear, leaving wet kisses along the shell. is it normal for your knees to be so weak? “ain't that what you wanted earlier? want something to fill your pussy up, don't you?”

you're so shivery that you hold onto gojo like your life depends on it. feeling wet and used between your legs already.

somehow, you know that gojo satoru is above what you're able to handle. he's a grown man with years of fucking under his belt and you're an apprentice parading as a camgirl who just had your first kiss. but really, it hardly matters when you want him in too many ways to care anymore.

“i want it, want it so bad, please!” you chant, prepared to get on your knees and beg for it while this otherworldly attractive man grins down at you. you feel like sobbing when he listens, circling his arms under your thighs to lift you effortlessly. legs cling to his waist as he walks the few paces it takes to reach your bed, splaying you out amongst the pillows.

“then i'll give it to you, sweet thing. but first, i think you'd be more comfortable in a familiar setting, hmm?”

he wants to film your first time.

it's filthy and you should refuse, but it's also exactly what you daydreamed of. all those nights honoredone89 watched your streams, you wished he was actually there. in front of the camera with you, back to his chest while he stretched you wide on three fingers and claimed you as his for all of your viewers to see.

you're too shy to actually let your fans watch you be fucked by someone else, but you let him hit record on your laptop, the pink camera at the edge of your bed recording a private show for your eyes only, but giving you the illusion of a livestream nonetheless. “don't pay attention to the camera until i tell you to, okay? eyes on me.”

after a small nod from you, he makes quick work of his uniform. unbuttoning his jacket to reveal broad planes of smooth ivory skin. shoving his slacks down, no underwear like you expected so his dick springs out, slapping warmth against your thigh.

it's easy to forget you're being filmed when you’re too busy gaping at him undressing. washboard abs taper off into a carved adonis belt dusted with moonlight hair. and with the eyes of a curious virgin, your gaze peeks down to his cock and it makes your tastebuds water. a perfect balance of long and girthy, the smooth tip blushing pretty and pink.

“can i touch it?” your dewy lashes flutter as you reach forward, wanting to know what the weight feels like in your hand. wanting to brush your fingers over the blue veins, maybe even dip your head down to lap up the pearly precum drooling from the head.

“nuh-uh, but you can feel it,” he sucks his teeth in reprimand, catching your hand and brushing an affectionate kiss across your fingertips. “alright, sweetheart. how do you want it?”

“i-i always imagined i'd be on my stomach,” you whisper, wanting to sink into your covers after voicing such a thing. a combination of your favorite fantasy position and wanting to hide your face from the camera.

“as you wish.”

he obliges, gripping your waist and rolling you over for him, front pressed flat into the pillowy mattress. though your hips are caged in by gojo's strong thighs, you wriggle your legs back and forth, cutely tapping his lower back with your toes.

“i-i hear it's better like this.” you mumble into the pillow under your cheek, just to get rid of the silence in the air.

he only laughs at your small talk, kissing your shoulder with care. “oh, sweet girl. i'll show you how much better it is.”

nerves flutter in your tummy at that, but you trust him more than anything— more than the women who warned you not to harbor a crush on him. he straddles your thighs, reaching into the pocket of his discarded slacks.

you hear the crinkling of a foil packet being ripped, all the air whistling from your lungs in a shaky breath as you twist around, embarrassed; catching him about to roll a condom over his cock. “w-wait-”

“cold feet?”

“no,” god, no. “i- please, you don't have to wear one of those.”

“yeah?” gojo snorts with a growing smile, but he shrugs and tosses the protection aside, caution to the wind and no further questions on it. blood rushes to his head quick now, dizzy as he draws your hips up a little until your ass bumps against his stomach. you're so easy to move, so cute and weak, like feathers under him.

his patience was lost long ago, but he's a team player. he gathers the seat of your ass against his palms, a soft peach that jiggles when he squeezes and kneads to the song of your whines, his eyes hypnotized by the jeweled plug. “you've had this in for so long, princess.” he draws a long finger down the line of your ass, tugging at the plug gently to see your hole spread. the remnants of the lube you used makes it an easy slide as he pulls it out. tossing it to the sheets.

he coos when you squirm away from him with a soft cry, hurts satoru, and he fucking loves the sound of his given name on your tongue. his thumb rubs over the puckered entrance to soothe the soreness. it would be so easy to sink his finger in, cock up next, but he'll save that for another night. “sorry, princess, i know. i'm just making room. i don't think you're ready to take both yet.. let me make it up to you.”

gojo keeps your cheeks spread, slotting his cock in the tight space between your plump thighs. he pushes the thick cockhead through your sopping folds. you can feel the milky pearls of precum smearing along your thighs and cunt with his thrusts, a wet slide right against your heat but it's not enough. “p-please-”

“f-fuck, sweetheart. how are you gonna fit me inside you? look at this.”

he's mean for teasing a virgin so much, but he can't help himself. he glances up at the recording laptop; the cam feed showing him your face pressed into the pillows, writhing all over your pretty sheets. fuck, you look so good. he's used to breaking in the starstruck beauties who flock to him, but he plays favorites now— fearing that once he truly has you, you’ll never let go of his heart, his cock.

“i don't- oh god- i don't know, but i want to try, sir,”you breathe out through your whines, the honorific only baiting him into getting your way, a true performer. “p-please let me try!”

“such a good girl, even when your fans aren't watching. if you want it, take it then. put it in for me,” he almost pleads, wanting to see that you want this just as much and you fucking do. too teased out to feel the jitters fluttering in your heart. you reach behind you, hand fumbling to wrap around his girth. skin feverish after hearing his heavy intake of breath— oh, you did that to him. satoru ducks his head to grip your chin and kiss all over your face, heated presses of his lips reserved for a lover. a distraction for you both as you guide his cockhead to nudge at the entrance of your pretty virgin cunt—

your eyes mist over, crystalline tears clinging to your lashes; losing focus after his hips sink forward. hiding your face in the sheets again, you muffle the depraved whimpers you hiccup out as gojo's cock forces your walls to spread open just for him. white heat slicking your body with sweat as you squirm under him on the bed. he's so fucking long, and he chuckles when you slide a hand down to your stomach to make sure you can't feel him there, too. he feeds you his cock slow so you feel every inch of him, bullying a spot to sit right up against your womb.

“t-too big- oh m’ god, it's too big satoru!”

“you cryin' f' me, baby?” oh, he is aching. no room in the little space your pussy gives him. he struggles to breathe, hair sticking to his forehead as he fights for his composure. he wants to treat you tenderly, break you in the right way, but you're a hot brand around his cock, sucking him in so good it drives him wild.

“s-satoru-”

“you feel that? much better than your toys, isn't it?” he kneels, pinning one hand over your back to keep you in place. “you can take it, cutie. just ease up for me a little, i've got you.”

you try to relax, eyes shut and sheets bitten into your mouth. you've never felt anything like it— the intrusion of his cock builds a pressure that none of your toys could've prepared you for. an overwhelmingly tight fit, you feel too full, in over your head. pussy staining his cock with frothy slick as he draws his hips back for an experimental thrust, an emptiness that makes you whine loudly for him to fill you up again.

“talk to me, tell me how it feels, angel.”

“o-oh- i don't... i don't know-” you gasp, leaning up on your elbows, a sensual dip in your back, the way you've seen the girls on the nsfw accounts you follow pose. the webcam films your fucked out expression and you're too cock hungry to care about it now, watching it shamelessly on the screen of your laptop.

“can't talk?” gojo taunts, digging his nails into the skin of your ass as he levels his weight into his hips and fucks forward. heavy, deep snaps that furrows your brow cutely, determined as you try your best to take him like you imagine the experienced women who are used to the oppressive force of his cock do.

“want me to slow down?” he asks softly, a little worried. after all, it wouldn't be the first time his dick knocked someone out. but you shake your head rapidly and he cackles, pairing that insane sound with deeper thrusts, sharp hipbones rutting against the back of your ass as he bottoms out again— too deep.

“wan' see your face, please 'toru, please,” you blubber into the sheets, but his keen hearing picks it up anyway. stopping is the hardest thing ever, but he pulls out; pushes you onto your back with a hiss.

“can't believe you wanna watch me break in this cute little pussy. what changed?” he goads, but he doesn't wait for your answer. “you know what to do.”

shyly, you wriggle down the bed until your hips are flush against his, reaching between the sweaty shadow of your bodies to handle his damp cock again. the stretch is no easier to take the second time, but you know what it feels like. pining for the slight twinge, the hot burn as he spreads sweet fire through your nerves. the weight of his cock fucking your pussy open in slow, teasing thrusts that leaves you whining.

“don't go easy on me-”

satoru listens instantaneously, pounding you roughly as he nips and marks your sweaty skin as his, little love bites along your neck you'll have to cover in the morning. something he never does, but call him attached to you now. “that's all you needed, ain't it? you don't want those sick fucks watching you. just wanted me to make a mess of this pretty pussy.”

“y-yes!” you cry against his shoulder and he buries his nose against the pulse point at your neck, inhaling sweet gulps of sex and perfume. a grunt kicks out of his chest as he leaves you, leaning back on his heels to fuck harder, your fingers flying to his forearms as he grips your waist, tugging you forward onto his cock to meet his thrusts.

you become a victim to his skilled fucking, to the harsh slap of his hips that a virgin has no business taking. thighs trembling up a storm, desperately trying to close as his cockhead drags along your gummy walls on the quick pull out, fucking your nerves to a red glow.

“you're so good for me, best girl. so good. keep these legs nice and spread for me so i can fuck this pussy the way she deserves.”

neither of you pay attention to the blinking red light of your webcam, too lost in the throes of good fucking. satoru can't keep his eyes off of you as you wriggle desperately underneath him. you're a mess; lips swollen and slicked with spit from your lolling tongue, hair splayed out all over your sanrio pillows while you stare up at him through teary, lidded eyes with the most fucked out look of adoration for the man pounding you, he almost feels guilty.

“s'toru.. satoru- w-will i get to cum again? it feels so- but i can't-”

he loses his final thread of sanity at your little pants and whines of his name. “some girls need it right here, d... don't they, sweet girl?” he says, stuttering when your pussy clenches him in on a good stroke. slick squelches out of you, staining your favorite sheets in a gooey puddle. it's how he knows his cock is fucking you at the right angle, brushed up against that precious spot nestled along your walls. your back arches high off the sheets when he hits it, but a big palm at your belly presses you down, refusing to let you run.

“it feels better right here, too,” he tells you, his hand shifting down. drawing sticky shapes of his initials under the hood of your sore, puffy clit— and you've touched yourself enough times to know what the feeling means. the pooling of sweet heat in your belly, the giddy waves of dopamine swirling in your nerves as a man throws you into your peak for the first time. “feel it yet? yeah you do. cum for me like a good fucking girl, make a mess of my cock like it's yours, pretty girl. give it to me.”

you're sobbing for him, clinging to him as if he can protect you from the force of your own orgasm. tears welling up in your big eyes as the knot in your tummy bursts so suddenly and you cum, walls fluttering around satoru's cock so tight it pains him to thrust through it. no thought in your pretty mind except the relentless pressure he fucks out of your body. overstimulation sets in too quick and you push at his stomach frantically as your juices splash onto the sheets, wetting all over his hand and bathing down the white trail of hair on his stomach. “i-it's too much, wait-”

“fucking.. fuck, princess- let me go or ‘m gonna cum inside you.. you're sucking me in so tight. f-fuck!” he is only seconds behind you, remembering at the last minute to draw back on his heels and pull his cock out of your weeping pussy. you're still shaking in the aftermath of the best orgasm you've ever had but he’s pinching your puffy lips between his pointer and thumb. it only takes a few rubs of his cock through your swollen folds before he whines low in his throat, grunting and tossing his head back as he spills thick ropes of opaque cum all over your pretty crotchless panties and ruined pussy.

“o-oh.. there's so much of it-” you marvel and when he opens his eyes again on the come down, hips kicking weakly now, he sees you reaching down to run your fingers through the cum he left between your thighs, pinching his sticky seed between your fingers curiously.

you're going to be the fucking death of him.

“yeah, that happens,” he chuckles with no breath in his lungs, no energy to tease you about it. he is too dignified to collapse on the bed with a softening dick, in need of a long ass nap, so he leans forward and pets the roots of your hair softly. “you need anything? besides a bath and your diary to give me raving reviews, of course.”

“i...” you start, sitting up and reaching for the closest thing that can cover you besides the stained sheets of your bed: gojo's uniform jacket. you drape it around your front, looking away to hide the vulnerability in your eyes. “can you stay until i fall asleep? you can leave after but.. i don't..”

don't be greedy, is what he would usually tell a woman asking him to sleepover after he's snatched her innocence up and fucked her into a limp. but with you, the sinking feeling in his chest, the months of pocketing your hidden smiles and shy flirtations to think about during his darkest hours, tells him only one thing: he wouldn't have left even if you asked him to.

“i'm not going anywhere.”

gojo experiences a first tonight, too. for the first time ever, he doesn't run.

instead, he stays. cleans you up with a warm towel and eases you into clean underwear, though you insist on wearing his jacket as pajamas. he even helps you change your soaked sheets ( with insufferable comments asking if he can keep them. ) you don't know what it means when a man stays after being your first, but your heart feels too warm and a little bit in lo—

“what's that sound?”

you're about to tuck into bed, ready to snuggle in safe and sound with gojo watching over you when his voice speaks up. now that your post-orgasmic haze has cleared a little, you hear it too. the quiet chime of the tip and chat bells ringing wildly from your still open laptop.

the camera at the end of your bed blinking lipstick red from its perch on the tripod.

like.boobs.97 chatted: that bastard is so lucky.

“oh... oh, no!” you squeal, scrambling to shut the laptop down, face burning with mortification. you should have checked, you should have checked. you have to help satoru with his emails in the morning, why did you trust him to click the right button?

you've been streaming to your viewers on the cam site the entire time.

“whoops,” is all gojo says, carefree and flippant as ever as he moves to stretch out across your bed like an oversized unbothered cat, drawing you against his body.

“so, you gonna introduce me as your new boyfriend or what?”

stream viewers: @atsumeii ┊ @bbyatsumu ┊@yuujispinkhair ┊@danibby

[writingwithfolklore]

Surviving Death

                I am a sucker for revival after character death—as long as it’s done well. Maybe in the future we’ll do a separate post on killing characters, but what I’ll say about it now is that revival can be a fantastic plot twist or narrative turn as long as both it and the death has proper meaning.

                While you may want to revive a character for a happy ending--they wake up and not only is the world saved but everyone made it out alive! This can also sometimes feel a bit cheap. What was the point of suffering the death if they were just to get to come back easy-peasy? Consider, would End Game have been as revered if Tony got to survive his sacrifice?

                So here’s some ways to bring a character back to life without losing the meaning of their death:

They are forever changed from the experience

A classic “came back wrong”, one of my favourite things in fiction. You get to choose to the extent they are wrong. Maybe the ‘wrong’ isn’t some supernatural influence, but rather just a result of the experience of dying.

                They saw something about the afterlife, they’ve lost memories, they’ve gained new memories about a past or a future or alternate timeline, they realize how much they mean to certain people, they discover just how little they meant to others, etc. etc.

                Their death (and subsequent revival) should quite literally change the course of their life. That’s not something one could go through lightly. Whether it gives them trauma, new perspectives, or a complete shift in personality/morals, they definitely didn’t come back how they left.

2. Sacrifice for a Sacrifice

Also a pretty common trope—you don’t get to gain something unless you lose something. To bring them back, someone else has to take their place, or something important is lost. Maybe to trade for their companion back, the main character loses the greatest asset to their quest. Maybe they have to choose between two people, and the two who live have to live with that fact.

                I read a book once where the main character had to choose between his love interest and his brother in a Saw-like trap. He chooses his brother, and the villain kills him anyway. Now he must continue his quest with his love interest, who knows he didn’t choose her. It was tragic, and completely changed their dynamic.

3. They’re only half back

They come back, but only some of the way. Maybe they are cursed to die again in a year. They’re tied to one place and will disappear if they leave it. They’re a ghost, or otherwise not fully present. They exist only in relation to certain objects or people. Their communication is lost, or certain other abilities they used to have.

                They came back, but only some of them—the rest is lost to the beyond.

Most importantly to reviving characters is the permanent consequences. Death is no easy thing to overcome, and whatever the circumstances are--it should remain with them forever.

                What are some other ways to revive characters?

[messiahzzz]

“if we were home”

first gale doesn’t dare to dream, to hope. but against his better judgment he nonetheless finds himself slipping into daydreams more and more frequently.

gale: i always imagined what it would be like when you finally got to meet her. this wasn't quite what i had pictured.

gale: i thought we'd be in waterdeep. you, curled up before a crackling hearth while i prepared us a ridiculously extravagant meal, served with a batch of my homemade hundur sauce.

he has led his imagination wander and thought about certain scenarios in specific detail. how it’d be like when you both return to waterdeep and he’ll get to show you around his hometown for the first time. leading you to his favorite spots in town and (fondly) recounting old memories, how meeting his mother and properly introducing you to tara would play out, down to the very first actual, proper date. daily domestic activities like cooking (letting you try his homemade hundur sauce), reading together, etc etc. at this point there was no actual conversation about your wishes yet and what you want to do after all of this… IF you even prevail. but with his potential death looming on the horizon he wonders how things could have been instead, if you met in another timeline.

gale: i fear mine is a dream for another life. but a fine one nonetheless.

even if he genuinely believes that he will not survive this whole ordeal himself, the idea alone of being able to show you his home, the center of his universe, in person (and knowing that you share his excitement) is still something that keeps him going.

player: it could still happen. so long as we find another way to beat the absolute.

gale: gods, i love your optimism. contagious in the most endearing way.

[halfmoth-halfman]

My MWIII Thoughts

I’ve finally taken the time to get all of my thoughts about the new campaign together and put them in a single post. There are no spoiler tags since the game is officially releasing today/tomorrow, but everything is under the cut with a warning. I have a lot of things to say here, so I’ve tried to organize it point by point. The points I think are most important are first, and I ask that you take the time to read through them. If you want to skip to the points about characters and that death, the beginning of those sections is marked with red, but be prepared to scroll.

I watched the custscenes, with gameplay, all the way through once and I’m not doing it again. I tried to go back to specific scenes to reference in this post, but even that was a lot for me, so if my timeline in here is a little screwy don't fault me too much.

If you just want my quick, overall thoughts: This campaign was two hours of egregiously incoherent, poorly written, shoddily thrown together military propaganda, even more than the cod games usually are, and your money would be much better spent donating to help Palestine - there are links to do so in this review, marked with green, as well as boycott information, and the same donations links are also provided on this shorter post if you want to go directly to them.

(There are spoilers below, and this is long. I'm not kidding. Do not click the readmore unless you are prepared to scroll.)

Military Propaganda/Islamophobia

I spoke about this some already here and here because I felt this was an important enough topic that deserved its own post.

Call of Duty has never been has never been the game where I expected to see proper representation of the Middle East or Middle Eastern politics. It is first and foremost military propaganda. More than that it is American military propaganda. Just like with every superhero and pro-military movie post-9/11, it should be expected that you’re not going to get any kind of meaningful insight or depth when it comes to Middle Eastern storylines and characters, but there is usually more of an effort to hide the Middle East = Terrorist subtext.

To say I was shocked at how overt and blatant the Islamophobia was in this game is an understatement. We get four deaths of named characters in this game. Two of whom are Middle Eastern women, Dena and Samara, from the country Urzikstan, the fictional combination of Syria and Afghanistan and home to terrorist group Al-Qatala (real subtle, right?). Both of these women are associated with the ULF, the Urzikstan Liberation Force, Farah’s group of freedom fighters whose goal is to free their country from foreign subjugation with Samara no longer being an active member. Both of these women are introduced in this game. Both of these women are minor characters. Both of these women, Samara in particular, are trying to live their lives peacefully now that their country has been freed.

Both of these women are given deaths more brutal and more shocking than the other two deaths of two main characters in the series.

We meet Dena at the beginning of the game when we’re first re-introduced to Alex and Farah. We see her have a heartfelt reunion with Farah, and the two have a conversation while driving where Dena expresses her concerns about wanting Urzikstan to remain peaceful but assures Farah that everyone will support her. After, Dena is suddenly shot in the chest, and Farah is forced to take control of the vehicle they’re in, which ultimately flips over and we get Farah’s first death fakeout.

It’s in this cutscene that we see a lingering shot on Dena as well as her corpse being thrashed in the car as Farah tries to take control and as it flips. We are given a Middle Eastern woman showing hope for her country that the peace she has fought for will be maintained only to then watch her die for shock value and a fakeout for another character, and watch her body fly across the car as it flips. We don’t get that with either of the other two gunshot deaths in this game. Soap’s is just as sudden, but we see it coming, and there are no shots of his body being thrown about, no closer views of his face like there are with Dena. Shepherd’s is entirely off-screen and all we’re left with is a shot of him lying face down on his desk - no blood or bullet wound in sight.

Notably, the only other person we see a comparable amount of blood on in this game is Makarov, the enemy of the series.

Samara, who gets the worst death in this game, in my opinion, is a retired ULF soldier we’re introduced to on a plane. I’ll start by saying I was under the assumption this may have been the reboot replacement for No Russian, the mission in which Makarov and Co. shot up Zakhaev International Airport to frame America for terrorism in the original series, and the mission that was teased after the credits in the MW2 reboot. We get the scene of Makarov and his men at the airport before boarding the plane, which could just be a nod to the original mission. However, until there is an official reboot of the No Russian mission, I’m going to assume this was Activision’s new take on it. 

In this mission, we learn that Makarov plans to use this plane bombing to frame Urzikstan, Farah and the ULF specifically. The thing is, as Big Mak and friends are in the airport preparing to board, we are shown that the ULF is already being blamed for the missile attack on Arklov Military Base from the previous mission where their missiles were stolen, capped with Konni’s chemical gas, and one was detonated. There’s even a news sequence showing that the world already thinks of the ULF as a terrorist organization, and has not-so-quietly thought that for years. That makes this upcoming scene feel not only unnecessary but like a deliberate choice made by Activision to be extra cruel to a Middle Eastern character. 

We see Samara text with her family and are shown a picture of her husband and children before the man next to her begins speaking to her in Arabic. He compliments her family and, I assume as we’re not directly shown, gets the No Russian text - a text, for those who have not played the original games, meaning to not speak Russian to not tie the terrorist act they’re about to commit back to the Russians. The Traveler, as he's called, then reveals that he knows who she is, knows her family, and knows that she is a former ULF soldier and fought the Russians. He then pulls a gun on her and Makarov and Konni take the plane hostage, purposely speaking Arabic and declaring this is for Urzikstan. 

We are then forced to watch as Samara fights back, but is ultimately taken to Makarov where a bomb is strapped to her chest. He gives his usual cryptic speech, and over-explains to the audience what’s happening before diving out of the plane D.B. Cooper style. 

Samara is then dragged to the back of the plane by a Hijacker, where the remaining passengers are, kicking and fighting and trying to reason with him to stop. He pauses and we then get this exchange:

Hijacker: Are you a terrorist?

Samara: No…

Hijacker: You look like one.

He then puts a gun in her hands, tosses the cellphone that will let her stop the bomb, and shoves her into a crowd where we have to watch her struggle to explain what’s happening to her and that she needs the phone to a crowd of people that are either afraid of or angry with her. She is shoved to the ground by a random man, forced to fight through people trying to tackle and beat her, and, when the phone is finally within reach in the hands of a scared passenger, the plane blows up. 

I want to emphasize that most of this is a cutscene. There are a few button presses for the player to try and get the phone, and you are allowed to look around and try to fight back, but that is quickly stopped, and you are forced to sit and watch through Samara’s perspective. The end result? There’s an investigation for who may have done this, and you play as Farah collecting evidence from the crash site so Makarov can’t frame the ULF. The mission succeeds, because it’s a story mission and it has to, Makarov is unable to control the narrative so people can only suspect the ULF did it but can’t prove it, and Samara…died for nothing. All of that was so people could suspect the ULF was a terrorist organization, which the game has previously gone out of its way to establish was already happening before Makarov got on that flight. This entire sequence and the mission after added nothing to the storyline other than the brutal forcing of a Middle Eastern woman to hijack a plane 9/11 style and die a death worse than two of the series’s main characters.

Two side characters, two Middle Eastern women who have never existed before this game, are put in this game solely to die in ways where their deaths are more emphasized and graphic than a character we’ve played as since the series began, and one of the main villains. 

There is a genocide happening in Palestine. Islamophobia in the United States, and the West as a whole, is rising to post-9/11 heights. There is already so much propaganda being spread in an attempt to dehumanize the men, women, and children who are being murdered by Israeli forces, to justify the actions - the war crimes - of the Israeli forces. Could this be a sloppy attempt at Activision trying to mirror real-life stereotypes and how quick the media is to jump to the Arab = Bad narrative? Possibly. I don’t think it is. I think this was a deliberate change from the original No Russian mission in which America is framed for terrorism, made by an American company that makes games meant to garner interest and support in the American military, during a time when the American government is being criticized for funding and aiding an ethnic cleansing. 

As slapped together as this game was, I don’t believe they couldn’t have changed the campaign in the time since the situation in Palestine escalated to this level. I firmly believe it was a purposeful choice to write that scene, to film that scene, to keep that scene. 

It is blatant, it is clear, it is as in-your-face as it can possibly be. It is not something this fandom gets to ignore because they don’t like the campaign. It is not something this fandom gets to overshadow with Soap’s death as poorly written as it was. It is not something this fandom gets to stay silent about while also posting about #freepalestine. 

I have never expected the best when it comes to Islamophobia from the Call of Duty games or its fandom. I’ve never expected anything beyond mildly okay. Call of Duty is military propaganda, I know. The fandom is known for its racism and it’s not getting better, I know that especially. But I don’t see how anyone, in the times we’re living in right now, would be able to look at this and not acknowledge it for what it is. 

It is the purposeful brutalization of Middle Eastern characters. 

It is propaganda.

It is racism. 

It is Islamophobia. 

It is wrong. 

Engaging Critically/Acknowledging Privilege

While I may be stepping back from the CoD fandom, I understand that not everyone is going to. For some people, these games are a comfort or an escape. I’m not here to call for a boycott of Call of Duty or Activision while there are more important boycotts to be focusing on - and you can find more info on them here & here.

What I am asking, particularly of those of us in the fandom that are not being directly affected by what’s happening in Palestine, is that there is more acknowledgment of the level of privilege that we have and that people learn to engage more critically with the media they consume. 

It is a privilege to play a game like Call of Duty and not have to think about the propaganda. It is a privilege (and ignorant) to say “it’s not political”, “it’s just pixels”, or “it’s not real”. It is a privilege to be able to just turn the game off and never have to think about war, and the impact of the representation of the characters, and the real-life events that these games base themselves on. And this isn’t just a CoD issue, this is something that should be considered with every piece of media you engage with. 

There is no such thing as a “politics-free” book/movie/game/show. Everything carries the biases - conscious or subconscious - of the person or people who created it. There is no such thing as media or fiction not having an effect on real life, especially in a fandom for what is essentially War Crimes: The Game.

I’m going to take a quote from this post by @yeyinde.

"It’s incredibly egregious to pretend that the media you consume isn’t based, in some part, on real life or has no repercussions outside of it just being fiction. And it’s especially dishonest to say this isn’t the case within the COD fandom when people have said that the erasure of Gaz from the fandom in favour of a white character is traumatising. The portrayal of the Middle East is traumatising. The portrayal of Makarov in fiction as an uwu-sympathetic babbie is traumatising. The portrayal of the military as heroes is traumatising. These are real people expressing real emotions and bringing up important matters that impact them long after they’ve logged out of tumblr. Just because they stop being relevant to you after that does not, and SHOULD NOT, matter. Their trauma, their feelings, and their interpretations shouldn’t be ignored in favour of some catch-all excuse to limit your responsibility as a consumer to think critically about the media you’re devouring just because it has no consequences for you."

Fiction mirrors real life whether you want to admit it or not. It shows real biases, and it affects real people. Participating in fiction and the surrounding culture does not magically absolve you of consequences. It does not suddenly mean you get a free pass at things like sexism, racism, ableism, colorism, romanticization of abuse and sexual assault, etc. just because your escapist fantasies are conveniently free of people who are different from you.

It may be your fiction, but it is someone else’s non-fiction, and you do not get to decide that it isn’t or that the impact doesn’t matter because it’s about fictional characters.

I'm going to link another post from @yeyinde with another quote here.

"It’s easy to get swept up into something when you have no tangible ties to the effects of what’s being portrayed, which can lead to making dismissive or hurtful statements out of pure ignorance. My biggest gripe was the excuses being laundered out and (either unintentionally or intentionally) giving the creators a pass for what they created and the harm they caused other people to experience. Just because they did not experience the same trauma, it does not diminish its impact on others. This is a very important distinction, which I think was being missed."

Does this mean you can’t ever write or read about traumatic things, or that you can’t enjoy the CoD games ever again? No. 

But I need you all to understand that you can criticize the media you enjoy. You should criticize the media you enjoy. Criticism does not mean never letting yourself enjoy a piece of media again. Criticism does not mean trying to get a character or creator “cancelled”. Criticism does not automatically equal hate.

Criticism is an act of love, and it is necessary when deconstructing and confronting biases - both yours and other people's.

Resources To Support Palestine

The lovely @moondirti provided some organizations where you can donate to support the humanitarian aid in Gaza with the note:

It's important to acknowledge that, while limited aid is being allowed through, recent negotiations have allowed your charity to reach the people of Palestine.

DOCTORS WITHOUT BORDERS

PALESTINE CHILDREN RELIEF FUND

UNITED MISSION FOR RELIEF – PALESTINE EMERGENCY

ANERA

Onto the actual game.

The 141

I don't know what happened during development between this game and MW2, but the relationship between the members of the 141 is severely lacking. We get the usual Soap and Ghost banter for one mission, because, let’s be real, that's what got a lot of people into the last game, but that's about it? There’s nothing new, nothing added to their relationships, and the game sticks to the same duos (Ghost/Soap & Price/Gaz) that we’ve had for the past two games. Even Soap and Ghost’s banter during the attack on Milena’s private island doesn’t have the same impact on the characters as their banter during the Alone mission in MW2. They get a few lines about Soap admiring Milena’s cars and Ghost taunting him about marrying an Oligarch, and…that’s it until the cutscene where they interrogate her.

There’s maybe a few quippy lines here and there, but overall the 141 gives off the same feeling as a group of semi-friendly co-workers that sometimes work on the same project rather than an actual team that has shed blood, sweat, and tears with each other.

This would’ve been such a great time to explore deeper into the team dynamics, show us pairings we don’t get to see as often and build on those relationships, make us really feel for these characters on a personal level. In the original series, you got a feel for every character and their team dynamics, and the player felt the impact of each death as they watched the other characters react (something I’ll talk about later). With this game, we get…what? Four men that desperately need a lozenge throwing a few sassy one-liners at each other and giving each other a harsh pat on the back like a bunch of dads at a barbecue?

I feel like so much of the heavy labor regarding the 141 in the reboot is done through fanfiction at this point because this game especially gives us barely anything to go on, and that’s such a missed opportunity on Activision’s part considering how so much of MW2’s popularity came from the relationship built between Soap and Ghost. It all just feels so hollow and surface-level; there’s no depth here, no attempt to build a connection from the player to this group as a team. In my opinion, Activision relies too heavily on the older fanbase’s connection to the original series, and the newer fanbase’s self-created characterizations, to fill in the blanks so they can leave these characters as empty and vanilla as possible in order to appeal to a broader audience.

And they’ve still somehow managed to fail at that. Speaking of failing...

Graves and Shepherd

Graves should’ve died in that fucking tank, and I will stand by that opinion even after I die. It was such a cop-out to have him live, and for him to suddenly come back with the excuse, “Well, I wasn’t in that tank, blah, blah, blah.”

This is supposed to be a game series where characters die and stay dead. The characters die. Some die heroically, some die horrifically, some die quickly, some die painfully slow, most die bloody, but they die. It’s a staple of the series, like Game of Thrones pre-season 5. I don’t know if Activision didn’t know what to do with his character, or if they realized he was semi-popular with the fans and decided to magically bring him back via deus ex remote-controlled tank, or if they were trying to “subvert expectations” and give us all a little surprise plot twist, but it sucked.

Also, no one checked the tank for a body? That seems to be something everyone has a problem doing in these games, and I don’t know what Activision thinks that does for the 141, but what it does do is make these elite military officials look incompetent as hell because their “dead” enemies keep coming back.

There was nothing different that Graves did in this game from what he did in the previous game. We get the same air support mission from him that we got last game, and really that’s it. Okay sure, he’s working with Farah now, that’s a little different, but what did he do in that mission? Give her vague instructions on where to find some GPS trackers and then give her more vague instructions on where to find the missile containers to slap the trackers on? He could’ve easily been replaced with one of Farah’s people who scouted ahead, or Alex, or a decorative cowboy hat, and the mission would have gone the exact same.

Other than that he spends the entire game hiding behind Shepherd like a scared child up until the end when he ultimately turns on Shepherd, and even that felt so blah. He faces no consequences for his (racist) actions in Las Almas other than Gaz refusing to shake his hand, he faces no consequences for betraying the 141, going so far as to lie that it even happened in front of Congress, and he gets off completely free as far as we know. There was no point to his character, no point to bringing him back, no point to him being in this game at all, and if I find the Activision employee who decided to keep him alive I will be throwing hands expeditiously. 

Shepherd was…there, I guess? I’m sure he was meant to be a menacing, sly, back-stabbing character, but he came off as more irritating than anything. His rescue mission felt akin to being forced to babysit your annoying younger sibling who questions everything you do. They give you a cute little nod to the OG series with his cutscene with the 141 in the snow (because Activision has to rely on nostalgia and easter eggs since they know this game is emptier than the promises of an absentee father), but most of it is spent with Shepherd preaching about how great he is and threatening the 141 like he’s been doing the entire game. I’m sure he’s supposed to come off as clever, outsmarting the 141 and tricking them into rescuing him - this big, bad, battle-hardened General - but all of that is undercut by him getting captured to begin with.

The General Shepherd in the original series killed two of the player characters. How am I supposed to be intimidated by this nagging grandpa briskly jogging through the snow behind me in his ugly pajama jumpsuit? Even his ending is lackluster. He’s outwitted in front of Congress by Graves of all people, and then we get a cutscene where Price shoots him off-screen. That’s it. There was no satisfaction like in the original series, no triumph, no sense of vengeance, only a tired feeling of thank god I don’t have to deal with this anymore. This constant attempt at build-up in this reboot series of Shepherd being this looming figure over the 141 ends not with a bang, and not even with a whimper.

Makarov

I’m going to start this off by saying I mean absolutely no hate to Julian Kostov, Makarov’s actor, he definitely did his job.

Unfortunately, that job was playing a random Russian man that happened to have the same name as the Vladimir Makarov from the original series. He’s literally just a dude. There’s nothing particularly menacing about him, nothing that really screams Leader of an Ultranationalist group, nothing that would set him apart in a line-up of kind-of-gruff white men. I wasn’t expecting him to be some over-the-top supervillain, but he feels too normal, too regular, too everyday. Maybe that was the point Activision was trying to make - that having a villain with too-sharp features, eyebrows with in-your-face arches, and two-toned eyes is realistically too much - but it feels like they leaned too far in the opposite direction to compensate.

How am I supposed to take Makarov seriously when they gave him such big, brown, babygirl eyes? Though I realize this may be a character model issue because everyone in this game seemed to have huge doe eyes at one point or another (looking directly at you and those unblinking baby blues, Soap).

The first time we get a proper cutscene with Makarov, he shoots one of his own men – one who had questioned his plan in the rescue mission – and he gives some passionate Make Russia Great Again speech that involves a lot of big gestures, promises of showing the world “true power”, and him being weirdly touchy with one of his men. It’s not a bad scene, and I think Julian really shines here as Makarov. It’s a little in-your-face for me, but overall not a bad introduction to what is supposed to be the overarching big bad for the rest of the series. It gives you a good enough sense of danger, and just enough worry for the main crew as they get ready to go up against this guy.

Unfortunately, the rest of the game doesn’t really follow through on that. Makarov spends more time monologuing, asking his men “philosophical” questions about prisoners and guards, and cryptically foreshadowing at the 141 than he does doing…anything. We are told about all of the bad deeds he’s done. We are told how evil he is. We are told that Makarov needs to be stopped at all costs. The only problem is, we aren’t shown any of that. We see the aftermath of Verdansk, a distant explosion after Makarov has been captured, but we never see Makarov do any of that. When we do get to see Makarov, his men are doing all of the dirty work while he stands around and looks evil. It’s his men fighting and killing guards to get him out of prison, his men attacking Farah and her soldiers, his men launching missiles topped with biochemicals, his men forcing Samara to blow up a plane, his men guarding Milena and his finances. The most he does during any of these scenes is order his men around and give evil villain speeches to give the audience exposition about why he’s doing all this.

We probably see more of Makarov’s shirtless Tinder pic than we see him in action. 

In the original series, we see Makarov being at the forefront of his movement, unafraid to get his hands dirty. He is part of the group that commits the massacre/terrorist attack on Zakhaev International Airport, he kills the two FSO agents protecting President Vorshevsky, he’s the one who shoots and kills Yuri, and that’s only part of what we see in-game. Sure, we’re told about his other crimes, but we’re shown enough to back up the claims that he is evil. In this game, he kills two people himself, one of them being his own soldier that I mentioned earlier, and the other being Soap (and we’ll get to that later). Two extremely lackluster deaths that are over before you get the chance to really digest them. Maybe he kills more people during the intro mission when you rescue him, but it’s during gameplay and easily missed when you’re too busy trying to fight your way out of this Arkham-esque prison. I think I could look past it if he wasn’t also present during some of the scenes where his men are carrying out his atrocities for him, but instead, Activision chose to have him in the background standing there…menacingly. 

I don’t want to say Makarov was a bad villain; he was certainly better than Shepherd and Graves. I just think Activision made very strange choices with his character that resulted in him becoming this weird mishmash of an average monologuing movie villain and the micromanaging boss that stands over your shoulder, and it took a lot of the “oomph” out of his character for me. 

Soap's Death

I hope whoever made this decision at Activision has to live the rest of their life constantly feeling like they have to sneeze and are never able to. What the fuck happened here? In what world did Soap’s death make any kind of sense here? This felt like they knew fans were expecting someone to die (and they already retconned the yeehaw war criminal) so they put a bunch of names in a hat and had some poor unpaid intern pick one out. 

I have not been quiet about how much death I wanted in this game. I expected at least two deaths, with one of them preferably being Price. Going into this I was prepared to lose characters, and I was prepared to lose them to a heroic sacrifice, to an exhaustingly epic gunfight, to an explosion in a clocktower, to literally anything, but I was not prepared to lose a character to bad writing. And that’s what Soap’s death was. There is no build-up to it throughout the game other than a cryptic, “I’ll see you again, MacTavish.” from Makarov in a flashback scene. There’s no exploration of Soap’s character arc, his background, his family. There’s nothing.

Price and Soap try to defuse a bomb, Makarov shows up and his men overpower them, Makarov goes for the kill on Price, and instead shoots Soap when Soap tries to stop him. The entire cutscene can be summed up as A Series Of Conveniences. Makarov conveniently gets to Soap and Price just as they’re about to defuse the bomb, the officers they have with them are conveniently incompetent to stop any of Makarov’s men, Makarov’s men conveniently don’t notice Soap getting up to stop him from shooting Price, Ghost and Gaz are conveniently one second too late save Soap, and a train conveniently passes by to let Makarov make his escape. It’s over in less than a minute, and there’s little to no reaction from the surviving 141 members before the game starts shoving in your face that there’s a bomb you have to defuse that has conveniently not gone off yet and was conveniently missed in all of the gunfire.

Aside from the bullshit way it happened, the most disappointing thing here was the cutting of Soap’s arc and the lack of reaction from Price, Ghost, and Gaz. There was no growth for Soap in this game, no building of his story that would make his death feel like a satisfying conclusion. We just got the same Soap we’ve had in the rest of the series, and then he was gone. And the fact that we got absolutely nothing from the team in that moment was so…frustrating. Yeah, Ghost kneels by his body, and gives a brief, “Johnny!” but that’s…it? Price says nothing. Gaz rushes to the bomb and says nothing. After that moment in the cutscene, Ghost says and does nothing. There’s not even a hitch in their voices as they finish disarming the bomb. In Soap’s original death, we got Price screaming and begging over his body. We got to see his grief and pain and hurt at losing someone so close to him. Here we get…them standing over the body, a cut to black, and then a funeral cutscene that doesn’t feel earned full of commiserations that feel empty, hollow, and generic. 

Maybe I’m too nostalgic for the Captain MacTavish we had in the original series, and the death they gave him that was impactful enough that people still talk about it to this day. Maybe there’s something meaningful here that I’m not seeing. Or maybe Activision can’t write for shit and rushed Soap’s death without a care just like they rushed this game as a quick cash grab to ride the hype of MW2.

Whatever the reason, these characters deserved far better.

Soap deserved better.

And I deserved to see a rebooted Captain MacTavish.

Gameplay

This section is going to be short because I didn’t spend money on this game to actually play it, I only watched gameplay. The general consensus seems to be that this game is nothing but glorified DMZ, and I can’t disagree with that. Supposedly, at least two of the campaign settings were ripped straight from Warzone, the Gulag and Verdansk Stadium, and I think that really shows how much of this game was slapped together because Activision wanted to hurry to release so they could capitalize off the CoD hype as much as possible. The combat is the same in every mission, the air support mission is as boring as ever, the NPC AI is all over the place, and the character models constantly shift from being really good to mobile game bad within the same cutscene.

I’m not saying I could do better, but I don’t think I could do worse. You can take that however you’d like.

The Writing/Storyline

Starting off, I’m going to say this with my whole chest:

Main story content should be in the main story, and not in optional or additional content.

Look, I don’t mind an easter egg here and there in DLC. I don’t mind the mention of a big bad in an extra, paid quest to build up hype. What I do mind is when the understanding of the main storyline of your game is dependent on things that happen in content that players are required to complete outside of the main game. 

Do you know how we found out Alex was alive? An optional Raid.

Do you know how we learned Graves was a little bitch and wasn’t in the tank? An optional Raid.

Do you know how we–

You get my point. These kinds of reveals should have been in the main storyline because they pertain to the main storyline. Otherwise, you have people reacting with confusion because the main campaign was all they played, and they were left under the assumption that Alex may or may not be dead, that Graves burned in that tank in Las Almas, that Farah’s brother (Remember him? Activision doesn’t.) was alive and out there somewhere, etc, etc. It feels like they’re trying to do what Marvel does when they interweave their cinematic universe with their television shows: leave references to things only the more committed audience - the audience who will watch every show, play every game, see every movie, buy every DLC - would understand while punishing everyone else. It feels lazy on Activision’s end, and cheapens any kind of suspense they may leave us with going forward.

I wouldn’t even be surprised to see something like “Oh, Soap died and Makarov escaped at the end of the main campaign? Just kidding! They revealed in the newest Raid that Soap actually survived, and Makarov got hit by that train at the end.”

Outside of that, the whole storyline just feels unnecessary. This whole game feels unnecessary. I know there are rumors that this was meant to be a DLC for MW2 that got extended into a full game because Activision wanted more money, and if I didn’t already believe that, the writing would confirm it for me. Nothing feels fleshed out. Not the story, not the plot, not the characters. It all feels very surface-level and shallow, like more of the exact same thing we got in the last game, but somehow worse. The banter between the 141 is just not there, the tell don’t show when it comes to Makarov, the rapid POV switching, it all feels so thrown together, so last minute, like the writers had no idea what they wanted to do up until release. 

One thing that really bothered me was the constant death fakeouts. It felt like every mission something awful would happen and one character would be left with their fate unknown in a dramatic cut to black as a cheap way to build suspense…only for that suspense to be immediately undercut by showing them alive in the very next cutscene. This happens with Farah (twice), Price, Alex (partially, there’s no cut to black, but there is a fakeout that he has been captured), and Laswell all within the first half of the game. At some point, it starts to get irritating and kills any and all suspense going forward. I was spoiled on Soap’s death, I knew it was coming before I watched the cutscenes, but by the time I got there, I was almost expecting Soap to show up in the next sequence without a scratch on him. Up until that point, I had stopped caring when characters were in danger because the writing led me to believe everyone was safe. There’s a way to build suspense, and every writer understands that, a majority of the time, less is more, so I don’t get how this went so unbelievably wrong. 

The characterization is also so weirdly off. In what world would John “Somebody has to make the enemy scared of the dark. We get dirty, and the world stays clean.” Price not immediately take a kill shot when he has Makarov in custody? Soap was ready to kill every person he talked to in this game, so why did he let Makarov live? Why would Gaz advocate for giving Shepherd a gun after his multiple betrayals that he shows no remorse for? Why would Farah continue to begrudgingly work with Graves after learning about Las Almas? Why is Makarov over-explaining his plans to his victims?

I’m not saying I expect Shakespeare-level writing from a Call of Duty game, but I expect something better than whatever this is. 

I don’t know who Activision hired for their writing team, but there are so many instances here where I almost have to believe that they may not have hired one at all.

Overall Thoughts

I wish I had a time machine so I could go back to who I was before I watched this campaign. This whole game was nothing but a DLC lazily stretched to two hours with assets taken from other games and a storyline that was slapped together using blindfolds, a dartboard, and too much alcohol. Please do not use your money to buy this game. Your money would be much better spent donating to help Palestine.

[roseghoul26]

Chapter 4: Your Touch Brought Forth An Incandescent Glow

Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, Tags Updated Per Chapter Author's Note: this chapter is super dialogue heavy and sets up a backstory for the reader so if this isn’t your cup of tea sorry. i need this chapter to set up the story later on lmao. also the title did use to be different if you noticed that lmao Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay Chapter List

“Have you ever shot a gun?”

You stared at Arthur, shocked. That certainly wasn’t the question you’d expect him to greet you with today. You stood in the entrance of your home, a soaked Arthur Morgan standing on the other side. “Well, hello to you too, Arthur,” you laughed. “Why?”

“‘Cause-”

A crack of thunder tore through the conversation, shaking the frame of your house. “Get inside, please. Before you die right out here on my porch.” You stood back a few feet, giving Arthur plenty of room to come in. 

Water pooled on the floor as he stepped inside, the mat doing little to soak it up. “Sorry,” you heard him mumble, and you shook your head.

“Don’t worry about it.” Arthur leaned his head forward, and all the water from the rim of his hat hit the ground with a splash. “I’m goin’ to grab some towels,” you stated, backing up to the stairs. “Get yourself warm by the fire. And those boots better be off!”

Arthur said something in response, but you couldn’t hear him, already up the stairs. Grabbing an armful of towels, you quickly returned downstairs, surprised to find him still lingering in the entranceway. “Arthur? What’re you doin’?”

“I ain’t gonna stay a while-”

Another clap of thunder cut him off, like Mother Nature didn’t want to hear what he had to say. “Like hell you ain’t gonna stay a while. Have you been outside?” Arthur gestured to his currently soaked attire with a teasing grin. “Alright, stupid question, but my point still stands! It's horrible out there! At least try and wait it out a bit. Please.”

He had looked so adamant when he said he wasn’t going to be staying for a while, his face hard and determined, but it quickly softened when you asked him to wait it out, even more so when you said please. “Alright, darlin’.”

He began to undress, taking his jacket off first, hanging it up on the nearby coat rack. His hat and satchel were next, joining the coat on the rack, and he finally took his shoes off, which were covered in mud. More and more water hit the floor, the poor mat absolutely soaked through with it. 

You had set a majority of the towels on the back of the couch, but you still held one in your hands. Walking over beside Arthur, you dropped it beside him, soaking up what the mat couldn’t. “Go stand by the fire,” you instructed, feeling slightly victorious when he did. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him pick up one of the towels, wiping down his face and hair. He didn’t sit on one of the couches, instead choosing to sit on the rug in front of the fireplace. You were about to ask why, until you noticed the way his clothing clung to his body like a second skin, absolutely soaked, leaving little to the imagination. It was a kind gesture, to not wreck your furniture with rain water, but less than proper thoughts flashed through your mind as you observed him.

Of course he had to wear a white shirt today. You could see the muscles of his broad shoulders move as he continued to dry his hair, and you could see the way the muscles tapered down his back, powerful and entrancing to watch. You were just grateful, or disappointed, you couldn’t tell, that you weren’t able to see the way his jeans clung to his lower body. 

No longer looking at him in your periphery, you tried to ignore the way your cheeks warmed as you watched him. “What’re you doing here?” You asked, hating how raspy your voice sounded. 

Arthur looked over at you, confused. “It’s been a few days, hasn’t it?”

And it had been since his last visit. Your first dinner was almost a week ago, Arthur stopping by every couple of days like he promised afterwards. You’d chat, eat dinner, pay him, and then he’d be on his way. “I mean, yes,” you made your way over to him, grabbing a towel as you did so, “but I wasn’t expecting you to come today. I’d hate for you to get sick comin’ over here, and this late in the evening. Besides,” you glanced outside, “I highly doubt anyone’s gonna willingly come outside to cause problems.”

“Well, besides me.”

You laughed. “Are you here to cause problems, Arthur?”

“Well, that depends on how you answer my question. Have you ever shot a gun?”

Shaking your head, you responded. “Can’t say I have.”

“Then you’re gonna learn today.” Arthur stood up, discarding the towel on the floor. 

“Wha- right now?”

“No better time than the present, right?”

“I think the present is an absolutely terrible time! I ain’t steppin’ foot out there.” As if to prove your point, thunder boomed, and Arthur sighed. “Why are you adamant about me learning to shoot all of a sudden?”

“Because I ain’t always gonna be around, and I couldn’t bear… I’d hate for somethin’ to happen to you. I wanna give you a way to defend yourself.”

“Oh… I see. Well,” you sat down by where Arthur had just been, “I ain’t opposed to the idea. I’m just not doin’ it right now. Let’s see if the storm’ll let up.” You patted the ground beside you. Looking up at him, you were met with the glorious sight that was Arthur in wet, tight jeans. You knew he was a large man, but it was always hard to tell when he wore loose jeans all the time. His thighs were huge, about the size of your head, and you wanted nothing more than to sit on them, to feel them beneath you. 

When he sat back down, you could finally breathe. “I would offer you some dry clothes, but I don’t think I’ve got any that’ll fit you.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Arthur chuckled, “but you’re probably right. Besides, I ain’t so stranger to wet clothes. They’ll dry soon enough.”

You handed him the towel you’d been holding, and he took it with a small nod. Another roll of thunder shuddered the house, and you instinctively felt yourself moving toward Arthur, your shoulder brushing his arm. He didn’t make any move to create distance between you two. His wet shirt was kind of uncomfortable against your skin, but you couldn’t care less.

You watched Arthur’s eyes travel over the photographs again, this time settling on one of you and your family. You could tell he was brimming with questions, but he kept his mouth shut. You stood up, but you weren’t away from him for long, grabbing the picture he was looking at and sitting back beside him, your shoulder remaking contact.

“Meet the Van Burens,” you said, handing him the framed photo, and essentially consenting to any questions he might ask.

“Are those your parents?” He asked, pointing to the two older looking folks. 

You nodded. “Raymond and Irene. Married for thirty some years.

“And the rest are…?”

“My siblings. I’m the eldest, 17 when this photo was taken. My brother, Joseph, was born a year after me,” you pointed to him in the photo. “Next was Margaret,” you pointed again. 

You went through the rest of the rest of the photo in similar fashion, reading their name and identifying them in chronological order. The twins, Ruth and Ethel, were next, followed by Edward, Henry, John, Helen, and finally Bessie. Arthur had a slight reaction to the last name, body tensing slightly, but you didn’t ask him about it. 

“And finally, Bessie. She wasn’t even a year old in this photo.” You sniffed, and you reached a hand up to your face. Hot tears were streaming down it, and a concerned Arthur was watching you. “Shit, sorry. I…. I miss them,” you explained through the tears. “I haven’t seen them since I got married.”

“Two years?” Arthur asked, shocked. You were shocked that he remembered, having only brought it up once back in Rhodes. You nodded. “You said they were up North, right?”

You nodded again. “Around Van Horn.”

“That ain’t too far, though.”

“You think if I could’ve gone to see them, I would’ve?” You laughed bitterly. “No, I ain’t allowed to.”

“He… he doesn’t let you?” 

“No. Won’t even tell me why, either. And the worse part is, I have no way of even seeing them when he’s gone. If you didn’t notice, the only way to get anywhere for me is on foot, or gettin’ picked up by a stranger.” You wiped away another tear, but another just took his place. “And besides, I have no clue if they’re still livin’ in the same house, after all the financial troubles they went through.”

“Financial troubles?”

You forgot the general public didn’t know what you did. If anyone else would’ve asked, you would’ve shut them down, but it was so easy to tell the truth to Arthur. “Yeah, my parents went bankrupt a few years back, nearly lost everything. The house, the business, everything. So, for financial security, they set up my marriage with Hans. He gets a wife, and every month they get a substantial amount of money from him.”

Arthur didn’t respond for a good amount of time, your words processing in his head. His jaw clenched and unclenched, and there was an almost dangerous glint in his usually soft eyes. “Your parents allowed this?”

“My father was the one who married us.” You whispered. You realized that you’d never told another person your situation, and you looked at him with panic on your face. “No one knows that, though.”

“I won’t say nothin’.” Arthur promised, and you relaxed. Tentatively, you felt him reach his arm around you, settling on your waist comfortingly, pulling you into a side hug.You let him pull you into him, your head resting on his shoulder. The cold wetness of the fabric felt nice against your warm cheeks, and it hid the tears quite well.

He comforted you for a bit, hand soothingly rubbing your side. It took every ounce of self-restraint to not just climb into his lap and throw your arms around him. The idea of it was very appealing, though. 

“If you got any more questions, I don’t mind answerin’ them.” You sighed. “I haven’t been able to talk about it before, so this is… therapeutic, in a way.”

“Do your folks know?”

“Know what?”

Arthur chuckled humorlessly. “That you’re absolutely miserable for ‘em?”

“I… Well, no. I wouldn’t want them to know, anyway.”

Arthur paused for a few seconds. “You’re probably one of the most selfless people I’ve met.”

You scoffed. “If this is what it feels like to be selfless, then I don’t wanna be anymore.”

“I don’t think anyone would blame you if you were selfish.”

You shook your head. “Maybe not. But every time I think I’m gonna try and do something I want, I feel so guilty. Insurmountable guilt, something I can’t just move past.”

“And… and what do you want?” It was barely noticeable, but his voice went lower.

You. “I want… I wanted to take over my family’s tobacco farm. I wanted to travel. I wanted to fall in love.” You laugh. “I ain’t so sure what I want now. Well…” you trailed off. Were you really about to confess to Arthur? “There is one thing I do want, but there’s no way I can have it.” The ring on your hand felt like fifty pounds.

He didn’t respond, just continued to rub his hand across your back and side. You took a deep breath, and even under the rain you were able to detect that distinct scent of him; gunpowder and tobacco. Your body couldn't decide if it calmed you or made your heart race faster. 

“Do you have a family, Arthur?”

“In a way, yes.”

“In a way?” You repeated, confused.

“We ain’t blood, but we sure as hell act like a family,” Arthur explained. “There a group of us, twenty-somethin’ strong. Big group of outsiders, free from the clutches of society. Men, women, even a kid. We take care of each other. You met two of ‘em already, Dutch and Bill. Dutch’s the leader of our little group. He’s… he’s somethin’ of a father to me, as much as I hate to admit it.”

“That… that sounds nice,” you admitted. 

“It has its ups and downs.”

“Do you have any photos of them?” You asked. Arthur stilled, and you regretted your question. “You don’t have to show me nonthin’ you don’t want to.”

Wordlessly, Arthur stood, first placing your family’s photo back where it was, then walking over to where his jacket was hung up, pulling something out the satchel he kept. As he sat back down next to you, you noticed he was holding a leather journal, which you honestly weren’t expecting.

“I ain’t got any photos… but I’ve got drawings.”

“Drawings?” You rested your head back on his shoulder. “Well, now I’m intrigued.”

“They ain’t anything good,” he prefaced, and he began to thumb through the pages. “Here.” Arthur tilted the journal to you, and your breath caught. On the left page was an absolutely stunning portrait of who you recognized to be Dutch, along with a paragraph of fast cursive, the same handwriting you saw on the thank you note. On the other page was a full body sketch of an older gentleman cleaning a gun, along with some sketches of a bear and a plant, which were labeled to be English Mace.

“Oh my God, Arthur,” you hovered your fingers above the drawings, following the strokes of the pencil, “these are beautiful.”

Because you were so focused on the journal in front of you, you missed the way that Arthur blushed at your praise. “You’ve already met Dutch, and the other man’s Hosea. Him and Dutch practically raised me.” His voice turned soft, like he was reminiscing.

Clearing his throat, he flipped through a couple more pages, halting when a picture of a younger man appeared. He had longer hair, about neck length, and two angry lines cut up from his jaw, covering his nose. Another angry line cut across his mouth, cutting through the shortly cut facial here. “John Marston. Grew up with him.” You noted the way his voice was short, like he was upset with the man. 

“What happened to him?” You asked, pointing to the scars.

“Wolves nearly tore him apart. Me and Javier had to go rescue him. I don’t think I’ve gotta drawin’ of him.”

“That’s alright. Just show me who you’ve got.”

Arthur flipped the page. A woman was there, sitting on a rock. Even in the drawing, you could feel the rage in her eyes. Her expression, even though it was neutral, had such a deep feeling of grief and anger beneath the surface that it almost made you uncomfortable. “Sadie Adler. Found her up in the mountains. A gang known as the O’Driscolls killed her husband, kept her alive. Her house ended up burnin’ down, so we took her with us.”

That rage in her eyes made sense then. It was surprisingly familiar, too, as it was the same anger you saw in the mirror. “Was she who you were talking about earlier?”

It took Arthur a moment to remember what you were talking about, laughter shaking his shoulders when he did. “Sure, darlin’.”

Strange answer, you thought. “Is she… is she doin’ better?” Will I be able to move on from the events in my life?

“She is. Mad as a hornet’s nest, but she’s tough. Even goes out on jobs with us. One of the best thieves in camp.”

You felt a pang in your heart, and you realized you were envious of her. You wanted the freedom she had. “I wanna meet her,” you found yourself muttering. 

Arthur chuckled. “She said the same of you.” 

You both paused. Were you that important to him that he was telling his “family” about you? “You… they know of me?”

“Well, they kept wonderin’ where I was sneakin’ off to every couple of days,” Arthur explained, clearly not meaning to reveal that. “I didn’t tell ‘em too much, if you were worried ‘bout that.”

“I don’t mind. Just tell ‘em they ain’t allowed to rob me.”

“Oh, they know,” Arthur reassured, and you watched him thumb back to near the beginning of the journal. “I made it clear that you ain’t to be messed with.”

“You make it sound like I’m some tough outlaw,” you teased. “I ain’t even shot a gun yet!”

“Yet.” Arthur reiterated, setting the journal back on his lap. A man occupied the top left corner, and the rest of the two pages were covered in a sketch of a town labeled Blackwater. 

“And you say these ain’t good…” you said, voice disbelieving. “Who’s that?” The man in the drawing had even longer hair than John, extending far beyond what was portrayed in the small drawing. A scar similar to a bolt of lightning streaked up his jaw, and another one cut through his brow.

Even though your tears had stopped, you still found yourself resting your head on the man’s shoulder. You couldn’t help the pleased sigh you let out when you felt his arm return around you, keeping you close. “That’s Charles Smith. Best hunter and tracker in camp. Nice guy, too. He joined us recently, surprised he hadn’t run off after…”

“After?”

Arthur sighed. You could tell he was debating telling you or not, but little did you know that he couldn’t say no to your questions. “After Blackwater.” Your eyes flicked to the sketch of the town. It looked peaceful enough, so why did Arthur say the name with such… disgust? Fear? Regret? You weren’t quite sure. 

“That’s out West, right?” You’d heard of Blackwater before, and you knew that Hans would probably be traveling through it on the way to Tumbleweed. You also knew that it was no stranger to crime, large ones at that. 

Arthur nodded. “It was supposed to be a simple job: rob the ferry and then get the hell outta town. ‘Course, things didn’t end up that way. Innocents were killed. We lost two of our own as well. One of ‘em was captured, too, but we got him back.” 

“What happened?”

You felt him shrug. “I ain’t gotta clue. I wasn’t on the boat when things turned bad. We had to drop everythin’ and run. Law chased us out of the state. We thought we’d lose them in the mountains, but they found us once we left. Chased us out of New Hanover, and now here. Won’t be surprised if they pick up our trail soon.”

“Will you have to leave if they do?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur answered earnestly. “I hope not.”

“Me neither.”

It didn’t feel right to speak, so neither of you did. Arthur simply pulled you closer, and his head practically rested atop yours. You swore his lips brushed the top of your head in a kiss. Rainfall filled in for your voices, the occasion clap of thunder growing softer and softer as the storm progressed. You were so at ease, probably the most relaxed you’d felt over the last two years laying against him like this. He was so warm, his soaked shirt slowly becoming dry, and the fire wasn’t helping you keep your eyes open. Tiredness washed over you, which wasn’t too unexpected because it was already nighttime. You yawmend, and you felt Arthur chuckle. “Go ‘head and rest your eyes, darlin’. I’ll be here.”

You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep until you woke up in your bed the next morning. Sitting up, startled, you saw that you were still in your clothes, simply being placed under the covers. Glancing around, you saw a small piece of paper, presumably ripped from the journal Arthur had shown you yesterday. Grabbing it, you cleared sleep from your eyes, and it took a few moments for the words to become understandable. 

Next time you’ll learn to use the gun. Have a good couple of days, darling.

There was something written below it, but it was heavily scratched out, and you weren’t able to make any of it out. 

Smiling, you leaned back down on the bed, clutching the note to your chest. A small laugh left you, pure happiness radiating from you. It was insane that this man could get you like this just from a small note. 

That giddiness was instantly replaced with dread when you imagined how Hans would react if you were to see the note. You’re not sure what would freak him out more; you using a gun or the fact that Arthur called you darling. 

Getting out of bed, you grabbed the lockbox hidden beneath, opening at setting on the bed. There were still some bills left, but there was plenty of room to set the note in. It was then you remembered that you hadn’t paid Arthur at all. Next time he came over, you’d give it to him. Remembering the other note you had from him, you quickly grabbed it, setting it in the lockbox as well. With one final glance, you closed it, tucking back into its original spot. 

You got ready that day with a grin on your face. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The next couple of days were filled with menial tasks and garden visits. You wished you had a book, cards, something to pass the time that wasn’t laborious tasks. The lower floor had never looked so clean, though, so there was that. 

It had been two days since Arthur had carried you up to your bed, and he would be coming over any day now. Even if there wasn’t anything romantic between you two, you loved having him over, getting close with the outlaw. Your loneliness had never been so far away. 

There was a light knock on the door, and you heard your name being called from the other side of the door. You set aside the stitching you were doing, your hands shaking slightly and a smile growing on your face.

“Hello, Arthur.” You greeted the man as you opened the door. 

Arthur was resting his hands on his belt, a warm smile on his face that had you melting. “Hello, darlin’. You ready?”

You stared at him blankly, completely forgetting what he had planned for you for a moment. “As I’ll ever be,” you sighed, getting your shoes on. “You sure this is a good idea?”

“Are you doubtin’ me?” Arthur joked, extending a hand to you once your shoes were on. “I promise you won’t get hurt.”

You snorted, taking his hand. “I ain’t afraid of getting myself hurt. I’m more afraid of what I might do to you.”

Arthur led you out of the house, continuing to hold your hand even after helping you down the stairs. He only laughed at your words, shaking his head as he did. He led you away from the house, away from his horse tied to the same tree as before, into the woods near where your garden was. A large tree stump was there, and about ten bottles that Arthur put out littered the top. Your hands were now no longer shaking from excitement over seeing Arthur. Instead, anxiety over firing a weapon caused them to shake, and you hoped he couldn’t feel it.

He let go of your hand, and he unholstered his weapon, holding it towards you by the barrel. “First rule,” he said when your hand rested on the grip. “Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to fire. Nothin’s worse than a misfire.”

You nodded, fully grabbing it in your hand. He let go of it, and you weren’t expecting how heavy the revolver actually was. It wasn’t unbuildable, no, but it definitely had a weight to it that would hurt your wrists after a while. “Second rule. Only aim it at folks that need hurtin’.”

“Do you follow these rules, Arthur?”

He hesitated. “No. But you should. You don’t wanna end up like me.”

He moved around you, so that his chest was barely brushing your back. You felt his fingers brush the underside of your arm, signaling for you to raise your arm. It shook slightly as you raised the weapon, but no longer because of nerves. 

“Bring your other hand up like this,” he moved so that you could see what he was doing, and you copied the action, wrapping both hands around the gun. “Got more stability like that,” he explained, moving back behind you. “Make sure to keep your arms all the way out. And spread your legs a bit.” 

Doing as he asked, you heard him hum approvingly, low and right next to your ear. You had to suppress a shiver. “You see those two iron bits stickin’ up at the end of the barrel? You're gonna want your target in between ‘em. When you’re ready, you’re gonna pull the hammer back,” he tapped it with his finger. “Then squeeze the trigger. Just… brace yourself.”

Taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the way his hands rested on your shoulders, you pulled the hammer back with your thumb. The stretch was uncomfortable, and it took a few tries before your finger eventually caught it. 

Click. 

“Very good,” Arthur praised almost nonchalantly. “Whenever you’re ready, darlin’.”

Bang!

The birds, which had been peacefully minding their own business, scattered out the trees, cries of warning leaving them. Your ears rang, mainly because of the gunshot, but also because of the continued words of praise spilling from Arthur’s lips. You were nowhere close to hitting the bottle, hitting the stump below them, but you were still proud of yourself for hitting something that wasn’t alive. 

Exhaling shakily, you lowered the weapon. The recoil was worse than you expected, and you could already feel that your wrists were going to be hurting later. “Both of us are still alive, right?”

Arthur laughed behind you, and you could feel the way his chest shook. “Very much so. You did good.” 

“Thank you,” you replied breathlessly. “Does it always take that long?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“This,” you gestured to the revolver. “Feels like it took an hour before I shot.” Turning to him, you followed the same way Arthur handed the gun to you, you grabbed the barrel, presenting the grip to him. “Show me.”

Cautiously, he took it from you. “What?”

“I wanna see you shoot.” When he didn’t move, you deflated a bit. “Please?”

Arthur sighed, but you saw a small smile tug at his lips. “Fine. Here, move back.”

Moving so you were behind the man, you waited with bated breath. Only Arthur’s eyes moved, flicking across each target with speed, like he was pinpointing exactly where they were. The revolver hung loosely in his hand, an air of casualness about it, like the gun was just an extension of his arm.

Four shots rang out, faster than you expected, and you watched four of the bottles shatter. The whole action couldn't have been longer than two seconds, and if you had blinked, you would’ve missed it. He aimed the gun still with one hand, the smoke of the barrel intertwining with his arm. 

“Oh my God,” you whispered. “That was…” Hot. “Incredible.” He didn’t respond, but you watched as he twirled the gun around his finger before holstering it. “Alright, now you’re just showin’ off.” You laughed, returning to Arthur’s side. 

“Hey, you asked,” Arthur defended.

You rolled your eyes. “Alght, before I go inflatin’ your ego more, can I try again?”

He handed you the gun, and you found that you weren’t as nervous as the first time. “There’s one round left. I’ll show you how to reload it once we’re done.”

Nodding, you returned to the position he showed you, and even though you didn’t need his support, you felt his hands brace your shoulders. The warmth of his hands were distracting, and you quite literally had to shake yourself out of it.

Bang! 

You were starting to get used to the noise it made, your ears not ringing as badly as they were before. This shot still didn’t hit a bottle, but it hit the stump right next to one. You’d take that. 

“Look at you.” His face was right next to your ear, low timbre shaking you to your very core. God, his voice should not be doing these things to you. “You’ll be hittin’ those in no time.”

“You think?” You didn’t dare turn your head towards him, knowing it would then be inches away from his own. You don’t think you could stop yourself from kissing him then, guilt be damned. 

Arthur nodded, and you could cut the tension between the two of you with a knife. He breathed deep, like he was trying to calm himself. “C’mon, lemme show you how to reload the thing.” Stepping away from you, what should’ve been a warm breeze felt freezing against your skin, no longer feeling the warmth of his body. Turning, you saw Arthur begin to head back the way you came. You were able to sneak your hand in his before he moved too far away, walking along beside him.

A bit shocked, Arthur glanced at you, looking down at your intertwined hands, but he made no move to separate them. Instead, he smiled gently, and he brought your knuckles up to his lips, kissing them gently. With the gun in your other hand, the two of you walked back, not saying a word. It’s not like you would’ve been able to hear him anyways because of how loudly your heart was beating in your ears. 

Arthur’s horse’s ears perked up when he noticed your arrival, but otherwise seemed undisturbed, the recent loud noise seemingly not bothering him. It made you wonder how used to gunshots the creature was. 

Arthur led you to the horse, and he sniffed curiously at you. You couldn’t help the slight flinch, not used to being around horses. “He won’t hurt ya,” Arthur reassured, pulling his hand away to grab something from the saddlebags. “He acts like he’s tough, but he’s a real softie.”

“Sounds like his owner,” you teased, and you heard Arthur scoff. You reached out a hand for him to smell, and you watched him meet you halfway. His nose was wet, and you felt him nibble at your fingers, making you laugh. Moving your hand away from his nose you trailed it down his neck, petting gently. “You not all that mean, ain’t you? You just need some love,” you cooed at the horse. “You’re a good boy, ain’t you?” You pet his neck a few more times. “What’s his name, Arthur?”

You didn’t get a response, so you turned your attention toward the man, stilling your petting. “Arthur?” He was facing towards you, something in his hands, but he had stilled, completely silent.

He cleared his throat, and you swore you saw the beginnings of a blush form on his cheeks. “Sorry,” he rubbed at his neck. “His name’s Bear.”

You didn’t think much of his behavior, moving your attention back to Bear. “Bear?” The horse responded immediately, acknowledgment flashing in his eyes. “Ain’t you a good boy, Bear. Oh, yes you are.” You spoke like you would to a dog. 

Eventually, you moved away from Bear, and you saw him follow you with his head. “Sorry,” you apologized to Arthur, having forgotten what he’d brought you over to do.

Arthur shook his head, smiling and laughing. Yeah, he had definitely been blushing, his ears still tinted pink. “Are you done spoilin’ my horse?” 

“For now.” You stepped closer to Arthur, handing him the gun. “What does he like to eat?”

“Bear?” Arthur shrugged. “Most things really. Grass, hay, apples, carrots. He loves peppermints, though. Goes crazy for ‘em. Why?”

“No particular reason.” You tried to be nonchalant, like you weren’t totally planning on buying some the next time you were in town.

“You tryin’ to steal my horse from me?” Arthur asked, setting what you saw to now be ammunition in his hands on the saddle, taking a step towards you, making you tilt your head back farther to look at him. 

You stuck your chin out defiantly. “Maybe.”

“I don’t much appreciate that, darlin’.” You knew he was teasing you, but his voice had dropped dangerously low, and in any other context would’ve sounded threatening. He was so close now, holstering the gun back on his belt, and you felt your confidence falter as he stared you down. 

“What’re gonna do about it, then?” It came out as a whisper, but at least it wasn’t shaky. You maintained eye contact, even when he moved closer, his chest bumping into yours. One of his hands slowly held the side of your face, like he had done when he wiped the dirt from your cheek. His other hand locked on your waist, tugging you impossibly close, and you sucked in a breath. 

Those beautiful blue eyes danced over your face, settling on your lips, an unspoken question spoken. You nodded, the movement barely noticeable, but you didn’t trust your voice. His thumb brushed the apple of your cheek, and he tiled your head back a bit more. Arthur leaned forward, and you felt his hat brush against your head, knocking it back slightly, but it didn’t deter him. 

His lips almost brushed against yours, and you could feel the air leave him as he almost closed the gap, until a loud calling of his name had him snapping his head up. His hat nearly tumbled off his head, and he caught it using the hand once caressing your face. The voice was familiar, but you couldn’t see who it came from, the form of Bear blocking the speaker.

Once the initial shock wore off, you could practically feel the annoyance and anger from Arthur. “What?” He growled out, and you were thankful that his head was turned so that he wouldn’t see the way your cheeks flushed. 

“Where are you, son?” 

You recognized the voice now: Dutch. Why he was here, you had no idea. Exasperated, Arthur looked at you, an apology on his tongue. You silenced him with a kiss on his cheek, his beard tickling your lips when you made contact. His hand tightened where it still held on at your hips, and felt him sigh, both pleased and irritated. Leaning your head back, you answered for him. “He’s by the house.”

Arthur let go of you now, taking a step back and creating an appropriate amount of room between the two of you. “Good evening, Mrs. Kerrigan,” you heard Dutch respond, and you and Arthur stepped from around the horse and walked to the front porch. 

Dutch came riding into your homestead on a beautiful white horse, and another man followed behind him, hat over his face, so you couldn’t get a glimpse of his features. “Good evening, Dutch. Is there something you need?”

“We need to talk to you,” Dutch responded, and you blinked back, confused. You glanced at Arthur, and he just sighed. You could tell he was still frustrated, though, because he practically glared at the other men as they got off their horses. 

“Me? You sure you don’t mean Arthur?”

“Both of you,” the stranger responded, taking off his hat and keeping it with his horse. He was an older gentleman, probably in his mid-fifties. As he turned to you, you recognized him instantly from one of the drawings: Hosea.

“This here’s Hosea,” Dutch made his way over to you and Arthur, Hosea following closely behind. “You see, me and him have a proposition for you, Mrs. Kerrigan. And Arthur, I suppose.”

“Okay.” You drew out the word. “What is it?”

“It involves your husband,” Hosea chimed in. “We’d like your help.”

“And I’m glad to provide it, if you tell me what’s goin’ on.”

“Mrs. Kerrigan, are you aware that your husband is runnin’ a moonshine business?”

Author's Note:  i swear they’ll kiss eventually don’t kill me

[penfz]

A Face to the Name

Sukuna x FemReader (Modern AU)

Summary: After a long a** break of settling in, getting Aika settled in, finding a babysitter, and overall just avoiding going into work physically… Y/N now has to physically go into work Lol

A/N: I’m currently making a Master List of this series. There, I will attempt to put it in an actual timeline. No promises though.

This story part does take place after The Beginning though.

Warning: mild swearing, mention of choking (in a non physical sense)

Sukuna x FemReader Master List

Welp. Y/N hated this. You were perfectly fine working from home. You enjoyed not having to actually pick an appropriate outfit for work. Cause if you could go to work in your track-pants, you most certainly would. You also enjoyed just casually sitting in on meetings through video call, making yourself a sandwich as you did. Now you guarantee during those meetings, you would be expected to at least say something, and you most definitely would not be allowed to make a sandwich during it.

With one more sigh, you left the house and drove to work. But not before grabbing your lunch bag, which Yuuji and Aika had left a sweet note about enjoying your first day at work. Such darlings.

On the other side of the street, Sukuna was already grumbling in annoyance. The sections manager was finally making an appearance at work, and he wasn’t sure what to make of them. Mostly cause they actually never said sh*t during the meeting. They muted their microphone and blocked their camera during meetings, stating that it gets extremely loud and distracting in her house.

Now Sukuna knew for sure it was a female because she often sent emails to him regarding certain deadlines and projects. And she always signed it off with her name and position. Now Sukuna should have probably done the same back, since it’s appropriate to sign off your name and position when writing emails within a company. But yeah… he never did that Lol So she always called him “Mr.Sukuna” since his email had his first name in it. That low key made him laugh, only cause he knew it probably annoyed her. She was a stickler for “proper” and “appropriate” when it came to work, Sukuna couldn’t help himself in wanting to annoy her just a little.

The house was already empty, with Yuuji leaving early to drop off Aika to school. The same Aika who had insisted on her and Yuuji leaving a sweet note in his lunch… addressed to “Suki”. Brats.

-

“I hate this.” You mumbled under your breath. And you weren’t lying. Physically being at work was weird. You were a section manager for a large project firm. You had moved cities with Aika after being promoted to a higher position, but it required you to move to a different city. No complaint on your part though, you were moving back to the city you called home, where family was. Being away from them was hard enough.

You were getting a tour of the office, being introduced to coworkers, putting faces to the names that you’ve read through your computer screen from time. In fact, you were looking for a certain person, a Mr. Sukuna. The guy, you assumed it’s a male anyways, just did little things to irk your soul. Why couldn’t he just send the documents to you if he was already done? Why wait till the deadline to do so? Why couldn’t he just answer you in a timely manner? Especially when the indicator says that the guy read your message. And why couldn’t he just sign off his name properly in emails?! So you wouldn’t have to use his first name, which you got from his work email address!

“Oh, this is Mr. Itadori.” Your colleague introduced. And instantly, your head shot up. Someone with the same last name as your child’s babysitter? Possibly a coincidence in last names.

It most certainly was not a coincidence. The man before you looked exactly like Yuuji, his pink fluffy hair a dead give away to that. But the tattoos, the large body structure, the intimidating look he gave you, this was probably Yuuji’s older brother. And he was right, he is scary looking. But scary good… cause for some reason you couldn’t take your eyes off him. Took everything in you not to laugh as youu remembered Yuuji’s words.

As if Sukuna thoughts differed from your own. He took one look at you, and he already had one word to describe you. Cute. Your body language gave off a timid vibe. Understandable, he is a pretty big guy. But this was his new manager? On screen you gave a very demanding and confident presence, but that’s probably because you were behind a screen. That was what he liked. As much as he could describe you as cute, you weren’t necessarily his type. He liked confident and bold women, not to much the shy type. There was something about a woman who could take the lead with no hesitation, that made Sukuna melt.

“Hi, Mr. Itadori. Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N L/N.” You introduced with a deep bow. Sukuna could only smirk, definitely a timid one.

“Nice to meet you. Look forward to working with you.” Sukuna replied, he definitely was going to enjoy teasing you in the future.

-

Now this time, Sukuna was baffled. Trying to keep the impressed smile off his face. He was definitely wrong in his original thoughts of you just being “cute”, and he was definitely wrong on you not being his type. Cause you most definitely were.

There was a meeting today, with your boss wanting to formally introduce you to everyone, as well as a meeting about the current projects and its timelines. There was some overlaps in the projects, resulting in slight disorganization among workers, all of them trying to figure out which part should be done first. Which resulted in missed deadlines, all of which you felt could have been avoided.

When you were called upon to address the matter with your own thoughts, Sukuna couldn’t wait to see how your timid self would respond. But in your own head, you could only sigh as you feared you’ll be looked at as a tyrant in the workplace. Oh well.

“I disagree.” You spoke up when it was your turn to speak. All eyes were on you now, with your answer defying all previous agreements. “This will certainly lead to sloppy results. The deadline is soon approaching, let’s fix the timeline of things. Have the bigger details handled by senior staff, and smaller ones handled by the interns. They’ll have to learn eventually anyways how things work in an actual work setting.”

“Giving those kind of tasks to the interns is what could result in sloppy results.” Someone else argued.

“No. Those interns worked hard to be exactly where they are now.” You explained. “Give them the chance to prove themselves and to succeed. They’re in this position cause this where they went to be, so give them that chance.”

“That’s still risky.” Another fought.

“What’s risky is this that you actually think that your current plan is working, when it's clearly not.”

Welp, you just dropped a truth bomb there, and Sukuna couldn’t help but smirk. He almost barked out a laugh. Almost.

“I agree with Y/N.” Sukuna declared. “This debate is honestly a waste of time. We either continue with what we're doing, or we follow the princess' lead and listen to her."

"Sukuna." The boss had lightly reprimanded him with using such an inappropriate to describe you. He always feared Sukuna would catch an HR complaint with the way he spoke. But it's not like you complained.

Nope, you definitely didn't complain. Instead you slightly blushed at the sound of the nickname coming from such a deep voice such as Sukuna's. You had to remind yourself that you were at work and to relax.

-

Once the meeting had ended, in your favour actually, you had either been applauded for your decision to change things. Or you were looked down upon for it, especially cause you were technically new to the your current position. But you had not let any of the whispers around you, stop you. And Sukuna noticed that. Just like a predator eyeing it's prey, Sukuna was now eyeing you.

Extra:

"Hi Suku- nii, how was work?" Yuji asked, seeing his brother already in the kitchen cooking dinner.

"It was fine brat. Where are you coming from anyways?" Sukuna asked, no pleasantries what so ever. But that never bothered Yuji.

"Oh, Aika's house. I was helping her with her homework before her mom came home." Yuji explained. "Aika said she wants to come here for dinner tomorrow. Is that ok?"

"Yeah it's fine." Sukuna answered back, not really paying much attention to things as he did the task at hand. No, his thoughts were still on you. The way you dominated your colleagues, the way you spoke to those higher then you with no remorse in your comments. That kind of personality had Sukuna in a choke hold, and his thoughts were strictly on you.

"Suku-nii."

"What?"

"Did... something good happen today?"

"What the fcuk?" Sukuna questioned as he turned to face his younger brother. "What are you on brat?"

"Cause you're burning dinner." Yuji answered innocently. He didn't want to admit that his brother got absent minded whenever his thoughts were on a girl, or he had a good date.

"FCUKKK!"

[holylulusworld]

A fresh start (3) - Where to Captain?

Summary: The world is safe. Thanos is gone. What now?

Pairing: Pre-Endgame!Steve Rogers x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, plus-sized reader, virgin reader, fluff, falling in love

A/N: Please consider I don’t care about the timeline of Endgame. 

Written for my 16.666 followers celebration. Requested by @elle14-blog1​

A fresh start masterlist

16.666 followers ‘16 days of requests’ celebration

A fresh start (2) - Post everything

Three years after you meet, …

You and Steve cleaned up alone as so often after the latest meeting. It was an exhausting one, filled with tears and sad stories. You were emotionally drained and needed to tell yourself not to cry or overthink things.

“What’s on your mind, doll?” Steve seemed to read your mind when he softly spoke to you. “It was the one story about the girl losing her grandmother, right?”

You nodded and choked out a sob. “I didn’t lose granny because of the blip but I felt the girl’s pain, you know. It was like I heard my story being told by someone else.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he tried to comfort you with a hug and soft words. Steve always made you feel better after a bad day, and you tried your best to return the favor.

“It’s not your fault that my granny got sick and died, Stevie,” you wrapped your arms tightly around his waistline and snuggled into his chest. “I wish she had the chance to meet you. Granny would’ve loved you.”

“I would’ve loved your granny too, doll,” he kissed the top of your head, making you sigh. “How about I invite you for dinner? I wanted to talk about something with you and, it’s our third anniversary as friends.”

“Something important?” You lifted your head to meet Steve’s gaze. He looks torn, and a little scared too. You didn’t know back then what he was about to tell you, but you knew something was about to happen.

You only feared you’d lose Steve too. He was the only constant in your life, and you didn’t think you’d survive living without him. Not after you lost your heart to the kind super-soldier.

“Doll, we need to talk about something,” he held your hand a little tighter when you choked out a sob. You feared that he’d tell you that you couldn’t be friends any longer, or that another monster would try to tear the world apart.

You didn’t know what would be worse…

“Okay,” you sniffled and tried to put a brave face on. “Just tell me, Stevie. I can take it. If you don’t want to be friends anymore, I’ll understand.”

“God no, Y/N,” Steve brought you into his lap and wrapped you in a hug. “Doll, it’s the opposite. I can’t imagine not having you in my life.” He kissed your forehead and sighed. “It’s just that…”

“What is it, Stevie? Are you in trouble? Do you need my help?”

“We know how to undo the blip…” You stiffened in his hold. It wasn’t that you didn’t want the people to get their loved ones back. But if Steve undid the blip, will he even remember you?

“Will you forget me if you do?” You choked out a sob. “Will you? Is this like in the movies when you turn back time and don’t love me anymore? Because I love you and I don’t want to imagine I’ll forget about you.”

“No, doll,” he smiled and cupped your face. “Wait. Did you say you love me?” Steve’s eyes filled with tears when you murmured these three words he longed to hear for the longest time. “I love you too.”

He pressed his lips to yours. Steve kissed you before, but only as a friend. You didn’t dare to dream of feeling his lips on yours. “I promise I won’t forget you. This is not how we will do this.”

“Steve, I’m scared,” you gripped his hand on your face tightly. You’ve been friends with him for years, always hoping for more. Grief and self-doubts kept Steve from making a move on you. He feels strongly for you, but all he can think of is bringing all the people he failed to save. “What if Thanos is too strong? What if you lose this fight?”

“We will get the stones, and undo the blip,” he whispered against your lips. “And after, I’ll take you out on a proper date like a gentleman.”

You laughed at his words. Steve could be so old-fashioned sometimes.

“Why are you crying?” He asked when you fought to blink the tears away.

How could you tell him that this was the best and the worst day of your life at the same time?

Steve is the kind of man who feels responsible for the world. Even more so after they failed to stop Thanos. If you told him that day that you didn’t want him to risk it all for the world, you would’ve felt like the worst person ever.

“Promise me that you’ll come back. I don’t want to lose you after I finally find you.”

Steve kissed you again, slowly, and deeply. He took his time, fighting not to ask you for more at this very moment. “I’ll always come back to you, Y/N. I swear…”

Steve Rogers/Chris Evans/all CEvans characters Tags

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[hxnguxng-jxn]

hi can you do a scenario of lan zhan y/n wei ying y/n hasn't been eating much so they feed him the scenario is that y/n is sitting on the edge of the water and lan zhan is behind kissing his neck and his lips while wei ying is in the water between his legs kissing his thighs making him gasp and lan zhan put a strawberry between his lips if y/n doesn't eat he won't be able to have more pleasure (it doesn't have to be explicit if you don't feel comfortable it can be subtle and I like the dialogue)

Writers Note(s): The first few lines confused me but I did get it in the end, Anon! I can do this for you, and I made it more sensual like a post-Wedding honeymoon thing if you don't mind! ^^ I also used more Chinese based fruits for this, for accuracy!

Info on Reader: Reader is confirmed AMAB in this work. The Reader is mentioned to not have healthy eating habits; can be because of personal reasons, the clan wars, and/or anything. Reader is pampered here in a sensual manner, if you don't like please steer away.

Timeline: Post-canon, WangXian/Reader decided to have a proper honeymoon and left the Cloud Recesses for a short while. Inn is ambiguous.

🔴 Slightly suggestive content, be warned. It's more pampering and soft, but it is sensual and hinting.

Fujoshis and Fem Readers DNI || Enjoy your read!

The long time it took your group of three to finally get to the inn Wei Ying recommended, it was already time to rest and close your doors.

The honeymoon phase of your tri-elopement has been so bitter and filled with war, mystery, and more negativity then you'd like to recall. Your younger self, if you ever could tell them about this, would be horrified from start to finish. Your stomach felt hollow, yet full of cotton as you think back on the events yourself.

By the time Wei Wing had secured your party a room for a few days and Lan Wangji had borrowed the kitchen to make a basic meal for your travels; they both found you dead asleep and refusing to wake on the mat while they ate.

Even during breakfast, you only ate the bowl of glutinous rice that was put in front of you and took some of the grilled wontons to quell your stomach sending up unpleasant pangs. Sadly, it seemed that while exploring the town, that was the only time they saw you eat. Your jug of water was refilling a lot, compared to your plate at home.

Reflecting on the food habits of your travels and here at the inn and resort, you should have expected that these two handsy husbands would come up with something like this.

... When you finally are led where they wanted you, sitting on the pools rim while fully dressed and Wei Ying holding onto your robe, you feel Wei Ying saddle as close as possible while picking up a cherry.

While the inns personal bath is outside, it is surrounded by a fence that you are glad exists. You had been escorted in by Lan Wangji and in the large spring of water, you could see Wei Ying already in the water and messing with a bowl of fruit on the pools edge. You recognize said fruit had been bought in a shopping frenzy by Wei Ying earlier, so you suspected they were up to something...

And you were right. Very right.

Said cherry ended up at your lips and Wei Ying teases out an, "Say ahhhh..." before you got the hint. Eating it earns you a cheeky "attaboy" from him too.

Lan Wangji is the one who speaks up to explain this new situation to you as your robes soak in the water. "You haven't eaten well. It's our honeymoon. Eat." Lan Wangji ends the sentence with a kiss to your neck.

Wei Ying chimes in next with an apple slice between his index and thumb. "We've noticed that you haven't been eating well and we, as your husbands, just want to treat you a bit. We can't allow our husband to go hungry, can we?"

As he states that, he puts the slice onto your lips again and your stomach gives a pang as you eat it from your husbands hand. As you see him smile at your agreement, you feel Lan Wangji give an airy kiss to your shoulder as he pulls down your collar.

Oh... Oh, they were clever.

They were very passionate lovers, you knew that as you've been there for every walk of life with them. From Lan Wangji's first drinks in public with you and Wei Ying all the way to late night escapades during a clan war, you've known them to be handsy and very reckless. And it seems in this inn they'll risk letting the owners see them just to be loving on you.

You expected Wei Ying to feed you again, but the only one properly in pool attire in the water was more enamored with reaching up your robes and cradling your legs. Wei Ying pushes up the wet clothes and kisses up from your ankle to your knee as your face heats.

You're so enamored with Wei Ying that the new cherry at your lips startles you for a second before you hear again. "Eat."

You do and you're rewarded with Wei Ying biting wherever he lands, and you let out a gasp as an answer. Lan Wangji was gentler in his approach as he kissed at your neck, but you can hear his own breath speeding up as you gasp. Lan Wangji was next and fed you a piece of persimmon, and eating it earned you a kiss on the jaw from Lan Wangji himself.

"Good boy, good boy..." Wei Ying soothes as he relaxes further in the water till he is just bobbing carefree between your legs in the pool. "You're starting to get the hang of it. You snack, and we'll take care of the rest."

"It seems you two just like feeling me up and added fruit into the mix." You tease as you notice Lan Wangji slipping a hand to your sash to loosen your layers of clothes. You suspect eventually you might have to go in the water fully at this rate. "What do I get out of this, hm? I'll have to work off all this sugar if we're not care..."

Wei Ying grabbed at a starfruit as you were talking and slipped it between his own lips and held it there as he listens to you talk, and after you were trailing off he grinned with it in between his teeth.

You look at how smug he is and question him. "Wei Ying? What are you... ?"

And he seals his lips to yours with sudden movement. Lan Wangji was undoing your sash and robes, kissing and nipping your neck as Wei Ying attacked your lips. The starfruit was cut small and you feel the ridges pass your lips as your husband in front of you tangles his fingers in your hair. It was a tart, sweet, and stinging kiss.

Lan Wangji, who's been far too passive in the verbal department, seems to have his dam broken as he watches his two husbands make out before him. Lan Wangji's voice hitches as he is the one to answer your question from earlier.

"Passion..."

[tomionefinds]

can yall share some tomione fics that youre currently reading/following? or even maybe an updated list of favorites?? thanks!

Hey Anon,

Sorry for the wait was checking if our other admins had more to add. As always there's our Admin Favs list here for anyone who wants to peruse everything on there. Apparently we've hit the threshhold for max links you can have in a post on Tumblr so we can't keep adding there.

Here's a few new fics I've been reading/following, as always I'm sure they're will be more to come in future ask me again in another year. Can't stop, won't stop. <3

I'd love to get more recs from people reading new works too! Please drop them in our comments or use our Submit feature to make a post! -JD

Altered State by Ginnyruin

E/Ma | WIP | 219k

Six years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Auror Hermione Granger activated a mysterious dark object, which unexpectedly sent her decades into the past.

Tom Riddle, now known as Voldemort, returned to British wizarding society in 1966 after a decade-long absence. Under the guise of interviewing for the DADA teaching position, he went to Hogwarts to conceal one of his Horcruxes, Ravenclaw’s Diadem. However, the coveted position had been stolen a week before his arrival by an intriguing witch.

As manipulative schemes emerged, tension built into a ruinous obsession.

Art Trilogy by WildKitsune

E/Ma | WIP

Art of Genius- Three years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione is working on a team of healers to help find a cure to a new wizarding disease. An imprisoned Lord Voldemort offers the help of his considerable genius but only if Hermione consents to be his handler.

Art of Charm- Even though Voldemort seems to be keeping his word to Harry and living within the laws of wizarding society, Hermione isn’t convinced her mate is as reformed as he seems. She becomes overwhelmed, knowing she can’t trust the one person she needs most in the world.

Art of Magic- A new player has entered the game between Hermione and the Dark Lord. What will it mean now that their bond has been broken? And what sort of powers does the mysterious Mr. Lake wield?

atelophobia by natasharomanhoffs

M | WIP | 107k

Sure enough, not five seconds later, the door cracked open, and a tall boy with green lining on his robes strode into the Hospital Wing. Hermione absent-mindedly noticed his attractive face, but she was more focussed on his uniform.

Lord, that looks stuffy, was her first thought.

At least he knows how to tie a proper Windsor knot, was her second.

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by Perhentian.en

M | Complete | 252k

Hermione had grown quite used to help Harry each time her friend managed to end up in some impossible situation, and this even if the war with Voldemort had been over for a long time. But when Harry, faced with the destruction of the magical world, decides to throw his friends back in time, Hermione is appalled. And what about this reckless plan of his to somehow use Voldemort?

Dark Lord Who by Naidhe

E/Ma | WIP | 35k

Bellatrix Lestrange uses dark, sacrificial magic to bring the Dark Lord back to life after Harry Potter has given his life to defeat him. However, asking for a "Dark Lord" turns out to be a tad bit too ambiguous. Baba Yaga is having fun, Godelot is a sadistic bastard, Herpo the Foul brags about his horcrux, Tom Riddle is unimpressed. (Dark)

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement by devdevlin

E/Ma | WIP | 14k

Harry's got a wild theory, and naturally, it's become her problem.

--

In which Voldemort fled the Battle of Hogwarts and seven years later, Hermione is appointed to lead the team tasked with tracking him down. *this is a rewrite

The Diary by LittleMulattoKitten, weestarmeggie

M | WIP | 127k

Hermione was suspicious when she found an old journal amongst her things.

Tom was intrigued the night someone else's handwriting appeared in his diary.

Lord Riddle watches his past unfold from Hermione's side of the timeline to make sure history repeats itself without Albus's interference.

Endless Night by cassidyblackwrites

E/Ma | WIP | 41k

The one in which Hermione is Abraxas Malfoy’s step-sister. 1940s - 1950s AU. No time travel.

Exitus Acta Probat by JellyBellys

M | Complete | 466k

After a series of catastrophic events, Hermione decides to go to the past to stop Tom Riddle. Story includes timetravel, Slytherins that aren't evil, romance, betrayal, death, angst, and some comedy thrown in. AU after OoTP.

Forever Means Forever by cocoartist

T+ | Complete | 7k

If she ever saw Unspeakable Number 37 again she would kill him with her bare hands: Hermione's research into the Veil has an unexpected side-effect. COMPLETE.

Gryffindor Red by foolishlywandwaving

NR | WIP | 37k

"How - how dare you?" She stammers, pushing him away with both hands. Riddle backs away as though she is brandishing a hot poker, a horrible little smile on his face. Her thighs burn white hot from where his hands have been trailing up. Hermione yanks her dress down and continues, finding her voice through the fog of insanity that has clouded her judgement. "How dare you just show up to my house and threaten me, then kiss me!"

Hermione Granger And The Journal’s Riddle by Little_Seraphim

E/Ma | WIP | 104k

‘I want to open it,’ Hermione thought nearly opening the book before stopping herself. “You cheeky book.” She tapped its cover. “Compulsion? Really?” Rolling her eyes at how stupid whatever magic the book had upon it was, she put it away in her school things and began sorting through ways of blocking magic. The new project had her eager and before long, she’d forgotten her boredom. Whatever the book was, it wasn’t common and it could influence the minds of those nearby.

‘I’ll get to the bottom of you.’ Hermione thought giving the book a grin.

Icarus by MarbleGlove

T | Complete | 16k

Some successes are only measured in how long you last before falling. Hermione writes a letter and begins a relationship. Complete

I of the Storm by Ardentlyadmired

E/Ma | One Shot | 6k

Her mind is still racing as she flees between the trees. Each bite and sting of the landscape feels like it’s fighting to keep her, hold her here. Even in the slick rainfall branches scratch at her face, drawing blood, snarling and pulling at her hair. Leaving pieces of herself in her wake.

She can smell the damp. Petrichor and dirt. Rot. The blood on her cheek, the sweat on her skin that melts into the rain. The acrid scent of fear. It reminds her that she is alive. Almost there. Almost free.

Infinite Spin by seollem

E/Ma | WIP | 24k

All the screens flashed black and white simultaneously, scoreboards blinking excitedly, the same glorious name at the top of each list.

Invictus by greyana

E/Ma | WIP | 319k

Voldemort intended the object to be used by his most loyal follower in the event that his horcruxes were destroyed, but it ended up in Hermione’s possession instead.

It sent her back to a time when he was much less the monster that she’d always known him to be. Dumbledore’s description of him couldn’t have prepared her for the intelligence and charm of Tom Riddle.

He isn’t who she thought he was.

Hermione discovers that it’s a dark descent into the madness of the man she should hate, but can’t… a descent she will never emerge from.

LordVoldemort.

Lady Selwyn by matchapuff

E/Ma | WIP | 88k

The discovery of an old Selwyn family photo sends Hermione back to 1952. At the heart of her journey is a silver crown.

Miðgarðsormr by xXAonoNYmouSPXx

M | WIP | 163k

Tom watched as the mother and son stop at a spot by the fountain. The witch whom he's never met before in his life, with bushy brown hair atop a heart-shaped face, and the boy who looked exactly like him when he was at that age.

Pink by yuwoo

E/Ma | WIP | 10k

If Tom had any say, he would not be here, but he has only just gained the Gaunt Seat. It is aberrant for one of his status to not possess a Thrall.

A Pound of Flesh by Thomas M Riddle sequel: Ill Met by Moonlight

M | Complete | 20k

AU: In her sixth year, Hermione engineers a way to reawaken Tom Riddle's diary. But forbidden magic has its risks, and she finds herself locked in a deadly battle of wits with the most dangerous teenaged Dark Wizard of all time. A game where the only way to win may be to prove the Sorting Hat's decision to put her in Gryffindor wrong. TW: Torture (some sexualized)

the price of water by peppershark

E/Ma | WIP | 34k

After a mishap in the Room of Hidden Things, Hermione finds herself in a barren, post-apocalyptic future where witches are all but extinct.

Ruination by VittoriaRenoir

M | WIP | 33k

Tom Riddle shows up on Hepzibah Smith's door in search of Slytherin's locket. Unfortunately, Hepzibah's daughter, Hermione, doesn't seem to like him much. Meanwhile, Hermione plots revenge.

She Rises by giraffelove92

M | WIP | 341k

"He watched as the air around her crackled with her magic, and it was so aggressive, so electrifying, that he wondered how this beautiful creature had ever managed to evade his notice – how he'd so foolishly underestimated her from the start." Darkfic.

Shopkeeper by Ciule

E/Ma | One Shot | 6k

A strange impulse rose - as if he wanted to have a conversation with her, maybe find out what she needed the fae teeth for - and he Summoned his trench coat, shrugging into it.

“Let’s have dinner.” It came out as a command, not as an invitation, and the girl looked as if she had seen a flying Merman.

A Sin To Know by EchoPhoenix

M | WIP | 81k

Tom allowed a genuine smile past his bloody lips as he raised his slender fingers to his gaze. Miss Granger really ought to curb such a self destructive habit, digging her fingernails into her palm like a reprimanded child?

stars never fade by no_halo

E/Ma | Complete | 9k

Almost a decade later, Tom finds her in Paris. She's still up to the same scheme, hoping to stop him and his rise to power.

Trials by nauticalparamour

M | Complete | 51k

A happenstance meeting between Tom and a mysterious witch named Hermione in Borgin and Burkes sends the pair of them on a tangled path to get what they want - Tom, ultimate power over the wizarding world, and Hermione, to bring down the dangerous wizard at the edges of her mind. Will their magnetic connection help or hinder them in their ultimate goals? Time travel AU.

Venenum by Koryanderi

E/Ma | WIP | 145k

Hermione travels for the year 1943. All she wants is to return to her friends, but her evasive attitude and behavior that breaks the standards of time, ends up arousing interest of Tom Riddle that soon turns into an obsession.

Verso by virennia

E/Ma | WIP | 25k

Hermione met him when she was twelve.

Tom Riddle, the most handsome boy in school.

when sunsets look like blood (hold me till the stars appear) by justprompts

T+ | WIP | 37k

"I - I'm really sorry, I've had a kind of portkey issue - " the girl begins, her voice carefully controlled - as Tom smirks at her.

"Really?" he says, pointedly raising an eyebrow at the offending object around her neck. "Wouldn't you rather say you've had issues with time?"

There's a long pause, as the girl's eyes widen and she looks down at the exposed chain of the Time Turner. She mutters a curse, before sighing and saying, "So, what year is it?"

Or alternatively

The one in which Hermione Granger accidentally time travels into Abraxas Malfoy’s bed in the middle of the night.

Who Are We? by BareWithMeHoney

E/Ma | WIP | 28k

The year is 2004. Voldemort has hidden his Horcruxes in the past and the Order is fighting against impossible odds to find and destroy them.

But when Time itself begins to unravel, a new kind of sacrifice must be made before the world comes to an end.

[mushroomnoodles]

info

mush/noodle · he/him · 21

read the FAQ?

hi. i draw sfw, nonfetish mpreg. of simon petrikov. i dont take requests unless im particular to them + simon related. but im willing to discuss and answer questions you have abt the whole.. mpreg simon thing lol, and you're always welcome to suggest things you want to see pertaining to my content, just uh.. be patient lol. i dont do a/b/o either. my blog is very fluff + angst forewarning. i aint afraid to touch heavier topics but i try my best to tw them accordingly.

i have a group of running aus and sometimes my content isn't just mpreg. im extremely uncomfortable with proship. please dont be horny on my art, i will block you. other than that im pretty chill

my art tag is #i have a mproblem, i also have #golbaby and #golbaby +1000 if youre looking for the baby or them in 1000 years. #my style is for works in my non-at art style. au tags beneath the cut :)

MAIN TIMELINE AUS (morrigan is the child of GOLBetty and the Simon in the show)

#plainvanilla the default timeline. the au color is purple. #wizardbetty (petrigrof semi-fix it au where simon is brought back in time into an alternate universe where betty survived as a budding wizard in the nuclear fallout, where he has to navigate the apocalypse while pregnant. eventually, morrigan creates a portal back to ooo, and the two try their best to get back to normal life while raising golbaby and trying to relate to humans from a time that is not their own.) the au color is blue.

#spicywizardbetty (similar to wizardbetty but simon is brought to the present day in her au. betty has full MMS and thinks he is her universe's simon come back to be with her.) the au color is the same blue as wizardbetty's.

#replacement dad (morrigan kidnaps an ice king from another universe and uses their transmutation abilities to change the wiring to bring that simon back and change the crown's appearance enchantment to make him resemble their dad. this simon, referred to as Imon or Ice Simon, is kept in morri's pocket dimension while they "fix" him.) this au has no set color. #bad end. (au where morrigan is unable to break the seal placed on them and is born 6 months after their due date; exhausted from trying to break the seal for so long, they drain the life of everything around them and it ends up killing everyone in the candy kingdom. marcy is a chaos creature now and pb is a monstrosity akin to the mother gum) this one is super angsty! the au color is grey. #forever seal (au where the seal placed on morrigan is extremely powerful and meant to be permanent, or at least until pb can figure out how to neutralize golbaby's powers; simon runs off shortly afterwards and is desperately seeking some way to break the seal on his baby. a wanted man, he travels ruins and hunts for artifacts and researches spells, while trying not to garner any attention from the townsfolk he lives with.) the au color is dark green.

#creaturewizards (arguably the most canon divergent, where wizards are all different kinds of mythical creatures. simon was turned into a sphinx and retains the species after being digested by GOLB, where betty becomes a harpy before becoming GOLBETTY. when she impregnates simon, he is expecting a whole litter instead of just morrigan.) the au color is brown.

MAJOR AUS (these universes do not feature morrigan as a golbaby, and the simons, betties, etc are different)

#candyworld (au where simon and betty are recreated as candy people, with betty being the candy elemental in pb's place. eventually she gains proper sentience with no candy person dumb dumb and overthrows pb, becoming the incredibly territorial candy witch.) the au color is pink.

#vamparents (au where simon and betty are vampires in the vampire king's inner circle, known as THE HANGED MAN and THE WORLD separately, and THE LOVERS together. betty was ambushed by a vampire before the mushroom war and was turned, before biting simon to save him from death by radiation poisoning.) the au color is maroon.

#lichtrikov (au where the host body The Lich chooses is the corpse of Simon Petrikov, unwittingly incurring GOLBetty's wrath. there is an alternate timeline of this where she impregnates him with a child meant to punish him forever by rendering him useless.) the au color is green.

#magic morri (au where magic betty and ice king stay together and have morri, who is then taken and raised by pb and marcy) the au color is teal. #dreamtime au (very tiny au following a dream i had once where magic betty turned ice king back into simon successfully after learning he was pregnant. ice king's personality is not entirely gone.) the au color is very loosely dark blue, but doesn't have a set color either.

[void-ink-studios]

Prohibitedwish rambling I haven't seen in many (or any) fics but would like to pretty please

Y'all seemed to like my rambling in the last post, so have some more! I have a lot of thoughts about these two, okay? These might be more like prompts of fanfic I would write if I had the spoons for it.

Scarab having chronic pain/balance issues. The ripped wings head cannon (which I can imagine gets phantom pains or never healing right), along with people noticing his missing antenna (which is critical to a lot of insects for balance and orienting themselves), and I've had many thoughts about it. Scarab using his cane as a weapon to hide the fact he's not stable on his legs. Keeping himself prim and proper to disguise the fact he's on the verge of shaking because what's left of his wings hurts so much. And of course, Prismo notices. He notices his new roommate/frenemy teetering without his cane or hiding in the Time Core shaking in pain.

Prismo does not strike me as the type to say no to people. He's everybody's friend, he knows that's his reputation, and he does what can to maintain it. Meaning, he says yes to a lot of things he doesn't want to do. Scarab notices. And maybe, after they've developed a more mutually friendly relationship, and Prismo has helped Scarab be less defensive with people who might actually be chill with him, Scarab returns the favor. He defends Prismo and helps him get the ability to say no. Maybe to unruly gods, or even exceptionally rude wish makers.

Scarab gets really into some kind of craft or hobby (like Prismo's pickle making or banjo lessons) and at first tries to hide it because liking things are for losers and opens you up to hurt, but then Prismo actually likes/encourages it. It culminates in Prismo giving Scarab his own little room for it, like the pickle chamber.

Prismo reconnecting with his friends, with Scarab as a new addition to the group. Cosmic Owl and Death seem like good bros (at least before New Death takes over, but I don't know where in the timeline between Fionna and Cake and Together Again that falls). Scarab is hella awkward, and everyone's kind of cagy about him, but the walls eventually come down. They're all losers and dorks, but they can be that together.

This isn't really a prompt but an observation: Their whole dynamic is Scarab's "Must follow routine and rules to the letter" autism clashing with Prismo's "deadlines and regularity are poison and I will wither" ADHD. They overlap in a fanfic hyper fixation.

If anyone ends up using these ideas, please tag me so I can read it!

[beels-burger-babe]

Changing Behaviours

***This is a prompt I've had in my drafts LITERALLY since I created this blog (aka a year and a half ago). I changed the angle to better suit my spooky month needs, and I am so so excited! I hope you all enjoy this as much as I do! As per usual with my darker stuff, PLEASE exercise self care before, during, and after reading this fic. KNOW YOUR LIMITS. READ THE TAGS. Please read safely. Love you -B***

Summary: Something has MC shaken to their very core. The brothers can see it, but they don't know how to help.

CW: Paranoia, Mentions of past abusive relationships, very brief implied suicide (of a background character), thoughts of murder,

Since your arrival to the Devildom you were a constant to the brothers.

You were a support system that they could rely on at any moment. You were a friend — family. You had introduced love and light back into their lives and showed them that they could be good.

Now, after two years of being down below, they had come to depend on the security that you offered in the warmth of kindness.

But all good things come to an end.

Upon later reflection, none of them could pinpoint the exact moment when you had begun changing. It had been subtle, fast, and all too easy for them to brush aside as their human having a bad day.

When establishing a timeline for the trial, Beelzebub would testify as the first of his brothers to notice something was off.

Two months before the incident, Beel had gone to the gym for his typical workout. But as soon as he entered the room, the steady sound of fists against a punching bag echoed through the otherwise empty, concrete chamber.

With a frown, he wandered closer to the noise when he spotted you. Your fists were bare and knuckles were bruised, sweat dripping down your face with gritted teeth as you pounded into the punching bag with a dazed, yet fearful, look in your eyes.

"MC?" Beel called out, concern pooling in his gut as he watched the skin stretched around your taut knuckles begin to split. "MC!"

An infuriated shout filled the air as you swung your leg around and kicked it harshly against the bag before stumbling away from it.

You leaned against your knees, panting heavily, as Beel looked at you with wide eyes.

"MC," he tried again as you wiped the back of your hand across your forehead, staining your skin with blood.

"Yeah?" You panted, wincing as you looked down at your trembling hands.

Beel pressed his lips into a thin line, watching as crimson began to drip down your fingers, and your legs threatened to give out beneath you.

He sighed and moved over to you, offering out his arm. "Come here," he mumbled softly. "You need to take proper care of yourself before you begin a workout like that. Wrap your fists. Stretch."

He led you over to a wooden bench sitting nearby and pulled a small bag out from his gym duffle bag. He quietly grabbed a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and looked at you warily. "Just um ... this might sting."

You hissed through your teeth as he poured the clear liquid over your poor hands. It was strange to see you standing so quietly as he bandaged your injuries. There was a stiffness to your shoulders and a furrow to your brow that he didn't quite understand, but he didn't like it.

"Is everything alright?" He forwardly asked. "I mean, I don't usually see you down here and ... you look upset."

You looked down at your hands, silently clenching and unclenching your newly-dressed fingers. "I'm alright," you muttered distantly. "Just needed to let off some steam."

It pained Beel as you continued fiddling with your fingers and avoiding his eyes, but he didn't push. He reached forward and squeezed your shoulder. "If you want to start working out with me, or get into your own routine, I can help you out if you'd like."

You paused before nodding your head. "That'd be nice," you smiled gently at him. "Thanks."

He grinned, letting his hand drop to his side as he began to put back his medical supplies. "No problem. What is it that you're wanting to work on, anyways?"

A glint of something so grimly intense and horrifically unfamiliar flickered through your eyes. "Kickboxing and weight training," you flashed him a strangely sharp grin and goosebumps formed on the back of his neck. "Have to be able to defend myself, you know?"

Beelzebub couldn't help but frown at the words. He took a step closer to you. "You ... You know that we'll protect you. Right? You're safe with us, MC."

Something in his words caused you to shudder as you glanced down at your hands. "But not all the time," you mumbled in reply. Before Beel had a chance to question you, you shook your head and began to leave the room. "I'll meet you back here tomorrow. See ya."

And that was that. Only it wasn't.

You were jumpier, more an edge than normal. If the brothers tried asking about it, you should brush them off and insist that you were fine.

Belphie wasn't so sure.

Only two days after the gym incident, Belphegor had begun to find you walking around the house late into the night. There didn't seem to be any specific intent or purpose to your midnight brigades — just senseless drifting from room to room.

The one night he hadn't found you walking around, he came across a different problem entirely.

Your shrill scream pierced the air, and Belphie ran faster than he had thought was possible.

He burst into the room, panting, to find you wrestling with your blankets, screams and shouts continuing to pour from your lips and your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Belphie cursed under his breath and rushed over to you. "MC! MC! Calm down. You're having a nightmare," he grabbed onto your shoulder, but quickly reeled back as your screams and thrashing only grew. "Shit," he breathed as panic flooded his heart. He felt sweat line his palms as he gently placed a hand over his pact mark on the back of his neck and felt it grow warm. The demon squeezed his eyes shut, channeling his energies of sloth through the symbol. "MC. Wake up"

Your eyes snapped open as a terrified gasp was ripped from your lungs and shot out of your bed. "Stop it!" You shouted in sleep-riddled-hysteria before you finally began to recognize your surroundings.

Your shoulders hunched as you curled in on yourself and ran a hand through your hair.

Belphegor swallowed thickly before ever-so-slowly approaching you. "MC are you-"

"Get out," you choked.

Belphie's heart clenched in his chest. "W-What?"

"Just-" a sob slipped from you as your grip tightened on your hair. "I need to be alone. Please. Just get out!"

The demon shakily nodded, beginning to take steps backward toward the door. "If ... If that's what you wish. I'll be in my room if you want to talk."

You responded with a barely noticeable nod.

Belphegor waited outside your room for several minutes. He had expected to hear cries, or whimpers, or even screams.

But all he got was silence.

A week of more sleepless nights and forcing Belphegor out of your room later, you had confronted Mammon.

The white-haired demon stood in the corner of your room with a deep frown as you began drilling a strange contraption to your window. "And what exactly is this meant to do again?"

"It'll make sure that no one can sneak in through the window," you mumbled, fiddling with the device a little more. "Not only will it lock it, but it's also sounded with an alarm that will go off if anyone manages to break the lock."

Mammon pursed his lips in thought. "But you're on the third floor?"

You scoffed, as though his argument was completely invalid. "As a demon with wings, you should know it's not impossible for someone to get up here," you stuck your head out the window and glanced down. "Even then, there's ivy all up this wall. ... Hey, can I have your help removing that after we finish this?"

Mammon narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he felt his heart sink at the slight tremble in your voice. "Oi. What's all this about? Is someone threatenin' ya or somethin'? Do I need to give someone a beat down?"

"NO!" Mammon flinched back as you practically screamed in his face. You both stared at each other for a moment with wide, frightened eyes.

You winced as you quickly took a step back. "I-I mean no. I'm just-" you groaned and glanced back over at the device. "It's nothing. I can do this on my own. You can go back to what ever you were doing."

Mammon clicked his tongue and stubbornly sat down on your bed. "Like hell I am! You've been actin' all weird lately and you've got circles under your eyes darker than Lucifer's! What's wrong?"

You glared at the demon before silently turning back and continuing to fiddle with the device. After a single minute of silence, Mammon let out a loud groan. "Come oooooon! You can't just give me the silent treatment and expect me to drop this!"

He didn't get an answer in response.

With a heavy sigh he finally got back to his feet. "You don't want to talk? Fine. But this isn't done. We will be talking about this later."

That conversation never did happen, and after everything that went down, Mammon regretted that more than anything else.

With all the things that had been happening at that time, it was a shock to everyone when you eventually approached Leviathan and asked if he wanted to go to an arcade.

The question shocked and flustered the demon (mostly because it sounded an AWFUL lot like a date, and he wasn't sure if he should dress up or just go normally) but he agreed none the less.

It's how he found himself standing slightly behind you with his jaw dropped as you took out zombie after zombie with a plastic arcade rifle and a cold, ruthless glaze to your eyes.

"Fucking hell," Leviathan swore as your name appeared at the top of the scoring chart. "How the hell are you this good at shooter games?!"

You flushed as you glanced down at the toy gun in your hands. "I don't know. Just ... did it."

Leviathan laughed as a slew of tickets came pouring out of the machine. "Well you're a freaking natural! Damn MC! You could seriously take someone out with that aim!"

You tensed at the comment, your eyes freezing on him with an intensity he had only ever seen in the ghosts haunting the Devildom. "You really think so?"

He chuckled and slipped a couple more coins into the machine. "Don't take my word for it. Go again."

And you did. Again, and again, and again. With each round your gaze grew less cold and more determined. Each round your score only grew more and more.

Eventually, Leviathan dragged you away from it (and no, it was not because he was jealous of the stupid game getting all your attention) to play something more multiplayer like Dance Dance Ruri Tunes, but you weren't there. Not mentally anyways.

Your mind was somewhere else along with the delighted grin on your face.

Satan recognized exactly what expression Leviathan was talking about when he described it in court.

Levi had used the word "distant," but Satan preferred the word "crazed."

It was one that he was no stranger to. He had seen it a number of times on himself whenever his brothers got shots of him setting up his pranks against Lucifer.

He had never expected to see it on you. Especially not when you were simply reading in the library.

He personally had gone in to do some reading on insomnia remedies for humans to help you with the nighttime issues that Belphegor said you'd been having, when he spotted you.

You were sitting at the table, smiling to yourself as you drank a cup of tea, scribbled down some notes, and read from your book.

In normal circumstances, there would be nothing wrong with the situation. If anything, Satan would've encouraged it and joined you to bask silently in each other's company.

But you were reading Demon Abilities and Weaknesses.

A book that he knew was not on your RAD curriculum. A book that he never expected you to have an interest in.

He tilted his head as he stalked over and quietly sat down beside you. You spared him a glance and nodded at him, before continuing your studies.

"Curious book?" He questioned gesturing to the text. You hummed thoughtfully. "Any particular reason for reading it?"

You scribbled down a couple more things before looking at him. "Like you said. It's a curious book," you leaned forward. "Did you know that despite what common human lore says, Holy water doesn't actually kill a demon? It just temporarily paralyzes it," you chuckled and shook your head as you looked fondly back down at the book in your hands. "It's fascinating what humans have gotten so so wrong about you guys."

Satan nodded in agreement and leaned forward onto his elbows. "Yes. Humans have remarkable imaginations and quite an interest in wrongly interpreting us."

You hummed in thought as you starred at the book in front of you. "Do people ever end up here by accident?"

Satan blinked at the question, his mind momentarily stalled by its suddenness. "Diavolo tries to avoid it, but I imagine it does happen from time to time."

"What about those who are purposefully brought here? The ones who were t-terrible awful people in their real lives?"

Your heavy stare was now fixed directly onto him and was unwavering. Satan felt chills run down his spine at the sheer desperation in your voice.

He would later testify that, in this moment, he wrongly thought he had figured out what had been bothering you.

"You aren't damned, MC," tears lined your eyes at his answer as he placed a hand over your trembling grasp. "When your time comes, I think you'll be one of the unique few who get a choice on where you go. Regardless, you'll be okay. We'll make sure of it."

You silently shook your head, and Satan took it as a sign to pull you into his arms and hold you. For the first time in a month, you broke down and began sobbing. The demon said nothing as your ugly, loud cries shook your frame and your tears soaked through his jacket. He just held you, allowed you to embrace your vulnerability.

Eventually you sniffled, and pulled away looking at the book once more. "Satan," you mumbled hoarsly. "There are bad people down here."

He chuckled and ruffled your hair. "Yes. It is Hell. But those insufferable twits are meant for nothing more than be slaughtered and put in their place over and over again. Rest assured that you aren't one of them. You're safe here."

Your lips pulled into a thin line as you scooped up the book and put it in your bag. "Thanks Satan. You've given me a lot to think about," you didn't say another word before taking your leave, leaving the demon alone and concerned.

Asmodeus had heard about your meeting with Satan from the demon himself and knew that he just had to do something to cheer you up. Clearly, the best way to do that was a shopping.

Still, he was surprised when you agreed so easily.

The strawberry blond happily thumbed through a clothing rack beside you. "See?" He chirped excitedly. "Isn't this just what the doctor ordered? A nice relaxing day out with your favourite and handsomest of pact holders!"

You made a small noise of agreement as you pulled a black turtleneck from the rack and stretched the fabric a little.

Asmo cooed as he perched himself onto your shoulder. "Oh! Very chic. It'll be good for layering in these dreadful temperatures," he warily watched as you added the shirt to your growing pile of black fabric. "Though, might I recommend a little more colour, darling? You'd look radiant in a deep magenta."

You snorted and poked his cheek. "You're just saying that because pink is your designated colour."

The demon giggled and kissed your cheek in return. "So what if I am? It's hardly my fault that I have the best colour of all."

You shook your head in amusement. "Well thank you for the recommendation, but I'm aiming for a different look."

He picked up the black cargo pants you had deposited into your basket. "Ah. Is this an upcoming emo or punk phase? I suppose it makes sense."

You raised an eyebrow at the demon. "What do you mean?"

Asmodeus carefully threaded his next words together at the edge in your tone. "I just mean you seem to be doing a lot of reflection lately. Which isn't always bad, but ... You've been really quiet and distant. I miss being able to go out and just chit chat like old times with you."

You went silent as you fiddled with a pair of gloves you'd found. "I ... I've had some bad memories resurface lately. It's affecting me more than I thought. But don't worry," you smiled softly at the demon, oblivious of the nervous glint in your eyes, "I'm taking care of it."

The demon hummed and nuzzled against you. "So long as you're happy. I miss that wonderful smile of yours," he finally unlatched himself from you as he dragged you toward the cash register. "Now come on. I want to pamper you with some proper skin care products. You seem like you could use it."

You chuckled, squeezing lightly onto the demon's hand. "Okay, okay. But only if we can stop at the general store. I need to pick up a few things."

During all of this, Lucifer was taking notes.

Every interaction reported to him, every oddity that he noticed, he wrote it all down. He didn't know then just how helpful his notes would be — he only knew that something was wrong with you and he was determined to figure out what.

The night before the incident, his concern reached a climax.

He just returned from a tediously long meeting at Diavolo's castle and went to his office to complete his notes and paperwork regarding said meeting.

But when he got there, he wasn't alone.

You hadn't heard him enter. You couldn't have — Not with the way you were muttering to yourself as you dug through the chest behind his desk.

He cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his heavily beathing heart.

Your yelp echoed through the office as you whipped around.

"I don't believe this is your room, nor do I think you can find your bed in my private belongings.

You gulped and nodded. "Right. Yes. S-Sorry. I-I'll go."

He sighed as you tried to scurry past him and planted a heavy hand on your shoulder. Conflicting guilt coursed through him as you scrambled back from his touch. "MC. Sit down," he instructed.

He glided across the room, taking his place behind his desk, but you remained frozen. "I-I'd prefer to stand, th-thank you."

Lucifer's headache pulsed as he narrowed his eyes at you. "I've been informed that you've displayed some worrisome habits. You haven't been sleeping. You've been overworking yourself to the point of injury at the gym. You're questioning your place and security in the Devildom," your eyes darted to your hands as he called you out. "Why?"

You were tense, practically a rock with how rigid and stiff you were. But, both he and you knew that you would not be leaving without an answer.

"I can't tell you," you reluctantly replied.

"Can't or won't?" he countered.

You shook your head as your arms moved to wrap around yourself. "A mix of both, I-I guess."

Lucifer nodded and wished, not for the first time, that he possessed the ability to read your mind. "Asmodeus mentioned you've had some harmful memories resurface lately. Does that have something to do with it?"

"It has everything to do with it," you choked as your fingers dug into your flesh. Lucifer allowed himself to hope that maybe you would finally reveal the truth that he'd been chasing. "I thought it was over. It should have been over. I survived. I didn't have to be afraid anymore. But I was wrong. It'll never end."

Lucifer's heart clenched. He longed to comfort you, to hold you and personally reassure your safety, but he needed to remain firm. It would do him no good to soften his resolve just to lose grip on the cause of all of this.

"What will never end? What has you so afraid?"

You squeezed your eyes shut as you shook your head. "I c-can't. I can't tell you. Please."

He hated how weak towards your pleas he had become. "Fine," he relented. "Then why were you here? What were you trying to take that you felt you couldn't ask for?"

Your eyes shifted to the chest behind him. "I ..." your jaw clenched and unclenched with unspoken confessions.

"You're not in trouble. I'm not angry. I'm confused. What were you looking for?"

You swallowed thickly as your eyes darted everywhere but at the demon in front of you. "The Morning Star Blade."

His eyes widened and lips parted as he felt time halt. "MC," he breathed. "Do you know the properties of that weapon?"

"I do," you whispered surely.

"Then you know how dangerous it is. It has the capabilities of permanently erasing the existence of any creature it is embedded into."

"I know," you whimpered this time as tears lined your eyes. "I-I just. ... I need it. I'm so so scared, but with that blade nothing could harm me and-"

Lucifer didn't let you say another word before he wrapped you in his embrace. For once, he felt himself tremble with vulnerability as he held you tightly against himself. "I don't know what it is that has made you so distressed you would act so extremely, but I assure you there's no need. You're not alone, MC. My brothers and I will protect you and defend you until our dying breath. You have our seals on your skin to prove it," he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head before pulling away. He walked back over to his desk and pulled a small white bottle from the top drawer. "This is Holy Water. Blessed by Simeon himself. If you know about the dagger, I imagine you know what this can do," he held the bottle out to you. "Take it. Let provide to you the remaining comfort that I cannot provide."

You stared at the water as though it held the key to all your problems. With shaking hands, you grabbed it and carefully brought it to your chest. "Thank you," you breathed.

Lucifer nodded. "You're welcome. Come. We'll get you some tea to help calm you before you go to bed."

And that had been it. Lucifer was convinced the issue was resolved and that in a few days time you would come to them, newly rested, and explain everything.

He had been so very wrong.

The following day, at 3 a.m. the brothers had all been suddenly pulled from their sleep and summoned to a place none of them had recognized in the freezing pouring rain.

"Fuck!" Mammon shouted as he bellyflopped onto the ground. "For fuck's sake! What the hell is goin'-" he froze as his eyes fell to the figure standing in the darkness. "MC?"

There you stood, drenched, clothed in the black wardrobe you had bought with Asmodeus. A bottle of Holy Water was clenched tightly in one hand as a dagger quivered in the other. Your bottom lip trembled as horror and uncertainty battled in your eyes.

Those very same eyes fixed onto the brothers as you held out the weapons. "Take them. Quick. J-Just get them away from me."

Lucifer frowned deeply at the sight of the familiar bottle. "MC. What is this abou-"

"JUST TAKE THEM!" You screamed as sobs threatened to break through your voice. "Before I- ... He's down here and I was going to-"

Belphegor moved first, snatching the weapons from you just as you collapsed onto the ground.

Asmodeus quickly scooped you off of the cold wet earth. You were speaking words, but they were too jumbled and distraught for any of them to understand.

Beel quickly ripped off the sweater he hand been sleeping in and wrapped you in it. "It's alright MC," he soothed. "You're safe. No one's going to hurt you."

"It's not me being hurt I'm worried about," you cried. "It's me hurting him! Don't you get it?! I was going to kill him!"

A jolt ran through the brothers at the sheer idea of you even considering murder. Asmodeus held you tighter to his chest.

The dots began to connect in Satan's head, but he still had too may questions. "Kill who?" he pressed softly.

"M-My ex," you choked as you gripped desperately onto Asmodeus's silk pajamas. "I saw him. He's down here. He was j-j-just walking around when we went to the museum t-two months ago. As though n-nothing ever happened a-and I couldn't-" tears poured heavily down your cheeks. "I couldn't stand it. I-I'm not safe. Not with him here. Wh-What if he knows I'm with you and- and- and-"

Asmodeus gently soothed you before you could throw yourself further into your hysteria.

Belphegor felt a familiar coldness drip down his spine as he looked down at the dagger in his hand. "And this ex ... He hurt you?"

You shivered as you nodded. "He ... It was just verbal at first. Insults. Names. Jealousy. B-But then he started to lash out. One night, he went too far. The p-paramedics said I should've been dead. He must have thought so too, cause they found his dead body beside my unconscious one."

"Gods and Devils," Leviathan breathed. "No wonder he ended up down here. He fucking deserves it and worse!"

Your lip trembled as Asmodeus carefully took your clenching hands into his own and gently caressed them. "I didn't feel safe knowing he was here, that he could come find me any moment. A-And the only solution I could think of was- was to-"

"-Was to take his life before he could take yours," Lucifer finished.

"Shit," Mammon swore, moving over to Asmodeus's side. "Is this what you've been stressing out about lately?"

You took in a shaky breath as you nodded. "I was so torn. I didn't want to drop to his level. I didn't want to be evil like him. B-But I-I didn't know what else I could do!"

"I'll tell you what we're going to do," Satan spoke through gritted teeth. "We are going to bring the issue to Diavolo. Demons like him are supposed to be in a certain place in the Devildom. Sentenced to eternal punishment. Not flaunting about."

Lucifer hummed in agreement. "We'll take him to trial, and make sure he never tastes freedom again."

You couldn't help but cry at the words. A trial. Justice. Something you had never been given in human world.

The brothers said nothing. They merely gathered around and held you, whispering reassurances and promises.

They kept you under close watch for a while, never leaving you alone or allowing you to fester in your dark memories for too long. When the trial came, they stood by your said for every second of it and defended your name with all the ire of Hell.

You watched as the being who ruined your life was found guilty. You watched as he was dragged down to the pits of the Devildom.

You cried, and mourned, and grieved.

But you didn't do it alone.

*** OOF that was a big one. Thank you all so much for reading this. Happy Spooky Month, and remember to take care of yourselves. I love you all so much and thank you for the never ending support you all give me. Cheers -B***

TAGLIST:

@thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @poly-bi-mf @burrixino @salvationprodigy @pumpkins-mainside-blog @acousticpen @sucker-for-angst-and-fluff @itskrispy @10paradox10 @vallison-rea @ivoryclive @newfangled-artistry @pumpkinpatchkid @chirikoheina @sailboat21 @theother4 @todoroses @circus-of-freaks @mcx7demonbros @bloopthebat

[frankencanon]

I think it'd be funny if we made Kakashi even younger.

Can you imagine Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura finding out that Kakashi is only a handful of years older than them?!

I mean, with how little we see of his face it's extremely difficult to tell how old he is...

It was one thing when he was prepubescent and short with an unbroken voice, but once his voice dropped and he reached an average adult height... How would anyone be able to tell?

He's strong, highly ranked, mature for his age, and the proper height for an adult with an adult voice. Anyone who didn't already know his age would be liable to mistakenly assume he's older than he actually is, especially with the grey hair.

And it's not like it's out of the realm of possibility for a teenager to be a jounin sensei—take Minato, for example. He was, what, seventeen? And as talented as Minato was, he's nothing compared to Kakashi when it comes to rising through the ranks at a young age.

I'm pretty sure Kakashi broke literally every record there was when it came to "youngest ever [blank]". Academy student, genin, chūnin, jōnin, ANBU, ANBU Captain... Sure, Itachi eventually beat him in one or two of those, but at the time Kakashi was the sole record-holder; There'd never been anyone like him before.

If we just modify Kakashi's already contradictory timeline... Unimportant info below about the details for just how this could potentially work in canon!!

—WAIT. FORGET ALL THAT.

If you want to read my calculations as to how this could canonically work you may direct your attention below, however I have just come up with a far better and far simpler and also quite possibly both funnier and sadder idea:

Time-travel, but not in any way you're thinking...

Most people assume the reason why they didn't hear much of Kakashi's exploits over the years is because he was in ANBU and so everything was Top Secret and extremely covert...

But what if the real reason was because Kakashi had somehow been sent about a decade into the future? Hence explaining how he could be a teenager still when he was once the Yondaime's student.

Also possible: Kakashi was somehow held in stasis for the past decade—sealed, perhaps? Trapped? Or maybe the work of a foreign shinobi's jutsu (kekkei genkai?) that took about a decade or so to break/deactivate...

Or, my personal favorite:

He was investigating the Uzushiogakure ruins and got caught in one of their defensive seals — one that would seal him for a maximum of ten years, with the intention of giving Uzushio shinobi as much time as possible to deal with whatever intruder(s) got caught in the trap.

Without Kushina or Minato or any other Uzumaki seal experts however, deactivating the seal would be basically impossible — luckily, the seal was set up so that once time ran out Kakashi would be automatically released.

And he was! Ten years later, with little baby Naruto all grown up and almost ready to be placed on a genin team — his genin team.

—

AFFOREMENTIONED DUMB CALCULATIONS FOR HOW THIS COULD POTENTIALLY FIT INTO THE CANONICAL TIMELINE BELOW 👇

—

It's probably boring!! You don't have to read it!!

⚠️ You have been warned!! ⚠️

(It's mostly just me brainstorming, honestly...)

—

Genin at five, chūnin at six... Then he stalls at chūnin for a while before eventually advancing to jōnin at twelve (wherein Obito "dies").

He's approximately thirteen when Rin is killed leading to him joining ANBU, and then fourteen when Naruto is born and the Kyūbi is unleashed on the village, causing Minato and Kushina to sacrifice themselves.

In canon, he is then twenty-six years old when he becomes Team 7's jōnin sensei...

For starters, I vote we cut those six years of chūnin limbo before Kakashi becomes jōnin, dropping him to about twenty-or-so.

Then again, this is fanfic—who cares about canon timelines?

If we put him on the hyper-speed fast-track...

4: Academy student

5: Genin

6: Chūnin

7. Jōnin (Obito dies)

8. ANBU (Rin dies)

9. Naruto's birth (Minato & Kushina die)

Is this ridiculous? Yes! But who cares?

9+12=21

Hm... That's not right.

Alright, this is getting a bit annoyingly complicated.

Even if I downgrade Naruto to eleven (because for a long time I was convinced for some reason that Naruto was eleven while the rest of his peers were twelve, and I still have absolutely no clue where I got that idea from) that would still make Kakashi about twenty. Hm...

Ugh, I'll figure this out later. Can't we just hand-wave it?

—No wait, I have an idea:

While modifying his canon timeline to make him younger is a hassle and a half, the fact remains that until we saw Kakashi Gaiden we didn't actually have any details on his backstory...

In other words? The beginning of the series managed just fine without it, so why don't we just throw it out entirely?

Afterall, this fic is about jōnin-sensei Kakashi—the details of his traumatic childhood are irrelevant, and it's not like early fans had that information to work with anyway.

Naruto is canonically younger than Sasuke (who was a baby during the Kyūbi attack) so we shall put him at eleven to give us some leeway.

Now let's say we wanted to make Kakashi somewhere around sixteen to eighteen during canon—that would require him to be five to seven years old when Minato dies.

Now let's compress his timeline some more:

Considering the Konoha 9 all attended the very first chūnin exams after they graduated, I don't see any reason why Kakashi couldn't do the same—and unlike them he's a prodigy so it's basically guaranteed that he'd pass. (And that's assuming he didn't get a field promotion...)

Give him up to a year to become jōnin, and then have him join ANBU almost immediately after.

Some months later, Naruto is born and the Yondaime dies.

To compress it further, I am making his graduation even more ridiculous:

Academy student at three, genin and then chūnin at four, jōnin and ANBU at five. God, can you imagine a five-year-old ANBU? That'd be terrifying. Naruto is born around the time he turns six, and eleven years later Kakashi passes a genin team for the first time and is made a jōnin-sensei at seventeen, just like Minato-sensei was.

It'll take Team 7 a while to realize that, however.

...WAIT A MINUTE.***

Why am I even bothering to promote him prior to Minato's death? Am I, perhaps, an idiot?

Minato becomes his sensei as soon as he graduates to genin at five years old, but before that Kakashi spent a lot of time as his apprentice and they bonded. Shortly after Team 7 is formed the Kyūbi attack happens and Minato dies — the how doesn't matter, so don't worry about it.

The war is over so instead of Kannabi Bridge they go on some other dangerous mission with the same results, except this time the reason Minato isn't there is because he's dead.

They send some other inadequate chūnin or jōnin in his place, but they promptly get killed early on in the mission, perhaps at the same time that Rin gets kidnapped.

Kakashi is chūnin at this point so he naturally takes charge, despite being a five or six year old and Obito being — I don't know, twelve? Significantly older.

Obito dies, then Rin, and this time it's the stupid Sandaime that sticks Kakashi in ANBU like he's an annoying unwanted child that he wants to keep out of sight and thoroughly occupied — at least, until he needs a jōnin sensei for the Kyūbi's Jinchūriki and the Last Uchiha...

So, final version:

Five years old when Minato dies and Naruto is born, and about five or six years old when Obito and Rin die and Kakashi gets stuck in ANBU, followed by eleven years of Naruto growing up while Kakashi's in ANBU makes him... About sixteen to seventeen years old when Kakashi becomes Team 7's jōnin sensei.

To Kakashi, this feels almost poetic. (Same age as Minato-sensei was...)

[victoriadallonfan]

I had this whole thing written out but it's honestly not worth getting into all the weeds. I'll try to keep it short.

I do apologize for phrasing, but it's like someone getting punched, another person saying they got stabbed, and then that person saying you're "trying to justify what the 'stabber' did" when you say it's not stabbing. So you up try to head that off by saying that punching is still *not good* but it just doesn't help.

You are the one saying "Closure" means "rape". I mean, I guess I can see how you could interpret it that way. But that's in no way explicitly stated anywhere in Worm (never managed to finish Ward and Worm is where you are claiming the rape was stated). I personally interpret it as being able to openly express her feelings without being met with disgust/getting to hear Victoria say she returns those feelings (obviously while knowing it's not real, but just getting to hear her say it)/getting a hug/saying goodbye. And that her "break" was just to have Victoria hug her/reassure her again.

And hey, it's fine if you interpret it the way you do. But people who don't aren't "rape deniers" or "canon ignorers". They just don't read it that way /shrug

It's completely possible to interpret what happened as not rape, but still very bad, and think that Victoria didn't deserve it (i.e. not demonizing her).

See, I feel that you might misremembering what went down with Amy. I made a big post about it here on the Victoria and Amy Timeline.

To summarize the events:

- Amy mind rapes Victoria into loving/being attracted to her

- 4 days later, Amy paralyzes and operates on Victoria without her consent

- Amy mind controls and kidnaps Victoria, refusing to undo the mind rape despite TT, Taylor, and Regent telling her to do so (TT even mentions that Amy’s doing this for her own selfish desires)

- Amy creates the cocoon shaped in Victoria image using stray animals, the cocoon healing Victoria in Arcadia.

- Amy tells Jack she’ll do whatever she wants to Victoria, in order to “trick him” into leaving

- Amy heals Taylor and refuses to remove the mind rape from Victoria, with Taylor realizing that Amy is going to do something bad, but she has to chase after Jack

- Amy kidnaps Victoria again and takes her to an abandoned home, so no one can find them

- 3ish days pass before Carol and Sarah are told by TT where Amy and Victoria are. Amy admits to Carol that Victoria was just “lying there” (remember, the pod was what was healing her, not Amy), and Amy realized she really could do what she told Jack.

- Amy then admits to using Victoria for “closure” and that she would wipe Victoria’s memories of what she did, so Victoria wouldn’t have to remember what that “closure” entailed.

- She also explains that it was during this “closure” that she would add things to Victoria, then go to change her back to normal, then take “breaks” to use Victoria again to make more changes to Victoria, and then repeat for several days

Even without Ward, it’s really clear that Amy used Victoria as a sex doll once the healing pod fixed her up.

Why do you think Victoria has so many hands? So many heads and faces? Multiple sets of tits and vaginas?

Do you really think Amy needed Victoria to have 4 pairs of tits and 3 vaginas to get Victoria to “hug” and say “I love you” (which is still molestation btw)?

Why do you think Amy not once fixed Victoria mind rape, but had no issue mind controlling her and altering Victoria’s memories to suit Amy’s needs?

Amy’s closure was to turn Victoria into her own person toy, a living fantasy, and it’s a scenario we see play out in Ward proper. Where Victoria is forced to watch herself from the perspective of a different head as Amy molests her.

Anything else is just denial, unfortunately.