#this finale is literally a whole ass fic in and of itself

[quil12]

Hate the fact that I'm finally at the part of this fic that I have been thinking about writing for literal months at this point and I'm sitting in the break room at work on my lunch so I don't get to make little noises while I write

[samsno1]

Dream Of Me

Sam Winchester x F!Reader

i was going to do this fic much, much longer, it would have a whole plot and all but i am so exhausted i wasn't feeling it so have this short horny ass one-shot because i was ovulating while writing this lol

Summary: You quite literally got into Sam's head...

Warnings: SMUTish, m. masturbation, use of y/n, descriptions of nudity, *almost* cunnilingus (read it so you will understand lmao), kissing, nipple sucking, marking (?), english is not my first language

You can learn how to change "Y/N" for your actual name here

Read it on AO3

Read Part Two

WC: 2.3k

enjoy!

Sam kissed you deeply, his lips dragging against yours eagerly. His big hands grabbed at your hips, blunt nails digging into your skin through your clothes. His tongue sinfully entered your mouth, exploring the warmth and groaning at your taste.

Your hands wrapped themselves behind his neck, fingers brushing through his long locks, lightly tugging at each lap of his tongue through your lips. He slowly walked you back, your knees hitting the edge of the mattress and Sam gently held your upper back to place you softly over the covers, mouths never leaving each other. His long hair tickled your cheeks, his nose bumped into yours. His desire was almost palpable as his kisses became more and more desperate, his hands clawing at your back as one of his knees supported his weight between your thighs. His long torso angled itself in an arch to keep his assault on your mouth.

When he finally pulls away, a whine escapes your throat, your raw lips begging for more as your eyes watch his flushed face. He panted above you as he straightened up, his arms crossing to grab at the hem of his shirt and pull it off, the collar of the clothing lifting his hair and then making it bounce back in place perfectly, a stupid grin on his face – a sinful, I know you like what you see grin – as he catches your beautiful eyes analyzing every bit of exposed skin.

He places both his hands on each side of your head, his hair framing his face, a little curtain to hide the absolutely hungry look on his eyes.

“Like what you see, pretty girl?” He questions and you nod in affirmation. He dips down again to attack your neck with open mouthed kisses and bites, making you whine and mewl on his ears and your hands reach for his back, your nails digging into the flesh. His hands drag down your front, bumping against your hard nipples and going low enough so that he can drag your shirt up, his obnoxiously long fingers brushing against your hot skin and throwing even more wood in the fire that was in your belly.

He pulls away momentarily and you lift your arms above your head so that he can take the shirt off for you, the clothing blocking the stunning view of an aroused Sam Winchester for a few seconds as it goes through your head. When he finally throws the shirt away on the ground he practically pouts when he sees the bra covering your breasts and sensually – slowly – trails his hands to your back, leaving yet another mind blowing kiss on your lips, humming, fucking humming in delight, just for being able to do this to you.

He unclasps the undergarment, and you feel him smile against your lips as if he was saying finally I can really see you. As he takes yet another article of clothing off of you he really eyes you down – I mean really. He registers every curve, every scar and every single particle of your skin, his lust-blown eyes eating you alive right then and there, your chest going up and down with deep breaths, your abused mouth half open, your hands splayed beside your head – everything.

He takes a single hand to caress over your skin, starting low at your neck and slowly coming down at the valley of your breasts, down your belly until he’s below your belly button then his other hand joins the action, one on each side of you, dragging up your waist and feeling around your ribs until they finally grab at each boob, squeezing. You groan and grab at both his wrists to keep him there, the little stimulation you got better than anything. He hums above you, his head dipping down to leave feather-light kisses over your collarbones.

“So pretty” He murmurs against your skin “So, so beautiful for me Y/N”

You sigh as he massages your breasts, his mouth dragging down to one of your nipples, wrapping around it and hollowing his cheeks, sucking on your skin and circling his tongue around your tit. You arch your back, a low moan rippling through your throat as you roll your hips, trying to find any kind of friction for the ache between your thighs.

“Sam…” You plead, grabbing at his hair to tug. He groans at your action, biting lightly on your nipple and you shriek. He lifts his head up, chuckling lowly, evil even, a smug smirk on his face, his dimples making him look even prettier above you. He lets your breasts go and smashes his mouth to yours again, swallowing your complaints.

His hands hold you at your belt loop and he bumps his crotch against yours and oh my god. You let out a cry, breaking the connection, and hide your head in his shoulder, your mouth kissing below his ear lobe as you whisper to him:

“Please, please, please, do something, Sam” You beg and he hushes you, one of his hands going towards your lower back to hug your naked tummy against his defined body. He squeezes your skin, wanting to mold into you and turn you inside out.

“Shh, beautiful, I’m gonna take care of you” He says, kissing your neck and unbuttoning your tight jeans with one hand. Excitement runs through his veins, his mouth still marking your skin.

His hand finally manages to unzip your pants and he flattens his palm against your lower belly to drag his fingers below the waistband of your panties. He swipes one teasing middle finger between your folds making you buck against his hand and let out a cry of desperation. He brings his finger out, making you groan in complaint until he lifts his head up, grabs your chin and makes you stare at him in the eyes.

When he’s sure you’re looking, he inserts his slick soaked finger into his mouth and sucks on it, pleasurable noises coming out of his throat as he savors your taste on his tongue, his eyes closing in bliss. The sight is beyond unholy, the action making your cunt clench into nothing, your glossy eyes couldn’t look away and Sam was taking advantage of that. Nothing you’ve ever experienced with anyone before made you feel so needy for someone's mouth between your thighs, eating you out with all their want, need, for you, nose deep into your pussy. Sam did that.

He takes his finger out of his mouth with a pop, licking his lips with his tongue and he opens his eyes to look at you and you are, for sure, looking at him, completely hypnotized by his spell. He grins and dips his head close to your ear, his hot breath sending goosebumps all over your body.

“I’m going to eat you out until you’re begging me to stop, until you’re physically unable to take anything anymore” He whispers and bites at your earlobe and jesus fucking christ where did this man get this mouth. You let out a shaky breath at his words, the fantasy making you squeeze your legs together.

“Please, please, please” You beg as Sam starts kissing down your body, open mouthed kisses left and right. His mouth bit and sucked at points he learned made you tingly inside and your hips roll below him. When he gets to the waistband of your pants he hooks two fingers of each hand through it to drag both your underwear and your jeans down your legs. It felt cold for about three seconds until the sight of Sam looking up at your face through his long lashes, eyes filled with lust, burned you from the inside out.

Once you were completely bare under him he left kisses in each of your inner thighs, his calloused hands kneading on the skin. You look down again, his hair brushes your legs, his mouth so close, so, so close that you could feel his breath against your soaked cunt. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you and you felt like the last woman on earth, wondering how this man could be so perfect, inside and outside. He finally starts to approach your folds, his mouth slowly opening to wrap around your clit and…and…

“Sammy wake up!” Sam’s shaken awake by a hand on his arm and takes a deep breath in. He rubs his eyes, trying to adjust to the light that got turned on by whoever disturbed his sleep – his very good and desirable sleep. His blurred vision starts to focus on the figure besides his bed. Dean towers over Sam in his robe, an unfazed look on his face and a cup of coffee in his hand that isn’t holding his arm.

“Dean?” He questions, voice hoarse from sleep, as he sits up on the bed, the covers falling from his chest to pool around his hips, still hiding his legs below it. Dean drops his hand from his upper arm “What time is it?”

“About 10AM” He says “We might’ve found a case, we need your help with research” He affirmed and Sam nodded. Oh my god. You. How was he going to face you? How was he going to be able to concentrate on your explanation of the case to him when he just fantasized about his mouth between your legs eating you – scratch that – almost eating you out? I’m screwed. “Clean up and meet me and Y/N at the library” Dean says finally, snapping him out of his thoughts and giving him a slap on his back, to which Sam groaned in annoyance. He leaves the room soon after, closing the door behind him.

He lets out a shaky breath, his hands supporting his upper body against the mattress. Just now did he notice the blood pulsing between his legs and the way he seemed hotter than usual. He rubbed both hands over his face, get it together, God damn it. He threw his legs off the side of the bed and stood up, making a beeline to the bathroom. He needed a cold shower, an ice bath, drown in the lakes of Alaska, anything to cool his body and his thoughts.

Every time he blinked there you were, his disheveled hair and lust blown pupils looking up at you. It had been some time since he started developing a crush on the huntress, your kind and caring – but at the same time firm and assertive – personality got him hooked pretty quick and your smartness always impressed him. Dean often made fun of you for being sort of a nerd – in his words – but that just made you even more desirable for him. And, of course, you looked incredible. Your killer body and beautiful features made you look amazing even when you were covered in monster guts.

Peeling off his clothes and turning the water to the coldest setting definitely helped. But, his boner was still there. He cursed to himself and hesitantly wrapped a hand around his cock, eyes closing and teeth digging into his lips to hold back any noise. He started rubbing slowly, up and down, visions of you on his head, beneath him, hair messed up by his hands and skin marked by his mouth and teeth. He wondered how your pussy would taste on his tongue, which noises you would make when he finally brought you over that edge just with his mouth. Then with his fingers. Then…

He quickened his movements, his chest going up and down quickly with deep breaths. Sam should feel bad for touching himself to the thought of you, he should feel bad for dreaming of you that way but he just couldn’t. The images of you flashing into his mind were making him feel thoroughly euphoric, his heartbeat could be felt in his ears and he couldn’t stop himself from imagining your cries of pleasure as he pumped into you or the different positions he could put you in. Fucking you against the shower wall or over the map table.

His drenched hair fell besides his face, the cold water running down his head and back as he slightly hunched over. One of his hands supported his weight against the wall while the other grasped tightly at his shaft. He thought about you moaning his name, much like you did in the dream, and how it sounded so sweet yet so arousing. 

His breathing was shallow, his hands were shaking and with a sigh of your name he finally came. He was in bliss, the orgasm hitting him like a truck. He pressed his forearm against the wall in a horizontal position and rested his head over it, his softening dick still in his hand. He opened his eyes, the sound of the water falling to the ground finally being processed by his brain again.

Jesus Christ.

The guilt suddenly hit him and he shook his head, partially in disbelief at what his body and mind made him feel. And do. Even if his body calmed down, his brain still had that dream practically memorized. He sighed, cleaning himself up all over again, the mess he made going down the drain, hiding the evidence. He got out of the shower, toweling his hair and drying his face.

He stood in front of the mirror and looked at his reflection. His cheeks were still flushed but, besides that, nothing could give anything away. He breathed out a chuckle.

“God damn it” He whispered to himself as he proceeded to dry the rest of his body with a different towel than the one he used in his hair, then wrapping that towel around his hips and going back to his room to change into different clothes. Today was going to be a long day.

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading, Xoxo

Read Part Two

[cvnt4him]

HI I saw your fic abt izuku being really nervy with touch but now can you do one where his girl “bsf” (us) is rlly touchy and they always do couple stuff so casually and everyone is like “y’all are literally dating” and he insists “nahhh this is what bsf do” and we are like “he doesn’t know he’s my bf yet” kinda vibe? Idk if this is coherent at all but yk I’m just a girl

Oh I like the way you think.

This is what friends do.

They snuggle up close to each other, bodies flush against one another. Izuku 10% believes, that this is indeed what best friends do. He holds you close, ketting you scoot back into him, your ass right up against his pelvis. He shudders resisting the urge to let his hips buck up against your ass.

But this is what friends do, they cuddle close and look into each other's eyes longingly. The dark room consumes the both of you whole, his hand finds itself way to your cheek gently rubbing it while you whisper something to him. Everything you say unfortunately goes unheard, he's too busy trying his hardest to get a good look at you underneath the moonlights glow.

It's all okay. This is what friends do. They kiss each other on the cheek, or on the foreheads, or even sometimes the nose. They kiss each other in these places to make their friends know they're loved. It's even okay for them to occasionally kiss the corner of the others lips.

Izuku was nervous, your touch was warm literally burning his skin. It's like in whatever place you touch it vibrated and turned pink, he didn't know what to do. His face was hearing up, your face was so close to his he just didn't know how to react. He felt your breath on his face, you were so close to him it made him shiver. Finally you stop just an inch away from your lips touching, he gulped audibly and tried his hardest not to freak out.

“ goodnight zu.”

You say in a whispered tone, gently kissing the very corner of his lips making him gasp while you did so. You give him a small smile before snuggling close and lying your head on his chest. His breath was shaky and his whole face was beet red, luckily it was too dark for you to notice. He sighed and laid his chin atop of your head closing his eyes and getting ready for bed.

Although if you asked izuku he would be quick to say "you're just best friends!" He'll admit there are some things that make him question your relationship. One time you both were out with friends at the movies, he bought you a ticket and some snacks for the both of you to share, plus you were wearing matching onesies. Everyone was quick to comment on it and how cute you both were but he was quick to shut it down.

“ oh c'mon, we're just friends! right y/n?”

“ yeah guys, we're seriously just besties at best. He just doesn't know he's actually my husband yet.”

Izukus eyes were blown wide as you walked past him slurping a slushie, mina follower you giggling you both had started whispering and huddling together talking about something. Izuku would be lying if he said he didn't want to know. Some of the guys were so quick to tease him asking him questions like "when you two got married" and "if you'd let him hit yet".

While sitting down and watching the movie you sat next to mina mostly just talking rather than watching, izuku sat next to bakugou and denki with kirishima sero and todoroki behind them. Izuku was just above you, yet you were so good at whispering he couldn't exactly make out what you were saying, but trust his nosy ass wanted to know.

“ so you're telling me you've NEVER thought about fucking y/n? like not even once?!”

Denki questioned midoriya with a box of Pocky in his hands, izuku was chewing on some twizzlers and nearly choked at the absurd question.

“ w- what?! no! of course not! we're seriously just friends okay?”

He was quick to shut it down. Huffing as he leaned onto his best friend slightly, the blond looked down to the green haired boy who's eyes were trained on you and what you were showing mina on your phone. Katsuki scoffed which involuntarily caught everyone's attention.

“ if yer’ gonna pretend like you don't want ‘er at least stop staring at her like you wanna fuck ‘er.”

It made all the boys laugh, and tease izuku he was so red and just didn't know how to react. Now his best friend was teasing him? It'll never end. With an annoyed sigh izuku stood and excused himself from the rather noisy group. He walked past you and mina grabbing your attention, mina pointed at him and pushed you to follow him. You did exactly that.

Following behind him you see him walking to the boys bathroom and just before he could go in you yell out "boo!" Making him let out a high pitched noise, causing people to look in your direction. He was so embarrassed he covered his face with his hood and grabbed you by your arm and pulled you inside and closing the door behind you. Luckily you were also wearing your hood so no one could exactly tell you weren't a guy.

“ I'm sorry I'm sorry! I didn't expect you to get scared like that hahaha!!”

You say to him with faux apologies, he was red and embarrassed, that adorable little pout forming back on his face. He was so prone to doing it all the time it's like it was just a default setting for him.

“ y/n!!”

The way he whined your name was just too cute. You were dying of laughter, holding onto him while he buried his face in your neck huffing and breathing into it. Once he smelled your perfume he calmed down a bit, your scent was just so soothing to him. Your laughter began to cease as you swayed in his arms. His eyes closed as he just held you there, he moved slightly shifting his nose to bury itself deeper into the crook of your neck, sighing heavily creating a warmth there.

You hum and scratch his scalp lightly, his hoodie falling off as you did so. He was just too cute for this world sometimes. Being a pouty little shit. You pull back a bit making him groan lowly while staring daggers into your eyes, he was annoyed. Not necessarily with you but with how everyone kept saying you two should "just get together". Or how you're "literally together". It didn't help that you played along with them and called him your husband.

The only thing running through his mind is what if he had actually liked you. What if he didn't know if he liked you. What if he hated the way you make him feel, how you'd touch all over him leaving your scent all over his clothes or his sheets like you'd just had sex or something..

“ zuku, what's the matter?”

He didn't answer. Too busy looking deep into your eyes, they way they looked up into his. That little sparkle in your eyes, it drove him crazy. The things the guys were saying earlier were replaying in his head as he took a good look at you and how you looked in this baggy onesie. Without a thought in mind he grabbed you by your neck and slammed you against the wall, pinning you to it and pressing his rough lips against yours.

You were surprised but welcomed it completely, his other free hand had roamed your body moving to your zipper to unzip it. Once he got it done he slipped his hand past the fabric and underneath the tank top you were wearing below the onesie, he felt your bare boob and squeezed it, moaning into your rough kiss.

It was sloppy and heated. Your teeth had accidentally clashed against each others, he was just so eager and angry he didn't know how to feel or act. The kiss began to get rather spit filled, saliva seeping through your lips and spilling at the corner of your mouths. He groaned into it as he shoved his tongue into your mouth. He was aggressive with the squeezing, never letting up.

Your hands soon wrap around his neck pulling him even closer into you. He breaks the kiss momentarily to catch his breath, his eyes still closed as he does so. He finally removed the hand that was groping your boobs to hoist your thigh up, he gave it a quick squeeze before gripping your neck tighter and craning your neck to the side, he had access to your neck and attacked it. Leaving heavily pigmented marks, he moved fast and claimed every spot he could with his mouth.

He groaned against your skin and breathed in your scent, absolutely getting drunk off of the taste of you. He was in between your thighs and took it as a sign to grind against you, he pushed you more against the wall while he roughly humped you. He groaned into your ear making your eyes roll. The friction felt nice but it wasn't enough for you.

You pushed him away making him scoff in annoyance, he was so sexually frustrated he just wanted to use you to get off. You clouded his thoughts more than hed like to admit and people were always telling him to fuck you so when he was finally trying to you push him away?

You unzip your onesie more revealing your shorts that were beneath, you reach back for him and pull him into you. Izuku was surprised but quickly understood, he grabbed you by your thighs and picked you up holding onto you tightly and he smashed his lips back with yours.

You both moaned into it and let your tongues swirl together swapping each others spit, izuku was so needy he had sat your body down on the sink and pulled you closer so you could wrap your legs around his waist. After you did so he was quick to grind into you again, he rubbed his hard cock against your clothed cunt as roughly as possible.

You could feel him much closer to your heart now, little mewls escaping you. His fingers hooked at the side of your shorts and tugged them down, the second he got them off he moved his kisses down and began kissing your thighs. It made you gasp at the sudden attention, he was staring right up at you through his lashes, moving inward towards your inner thighs licking and sucking all across them.

No words were needed, he knew you wanted him just as bad as he needed you. With nothing needed to be said he began kissing your clothed cunt, eyes rolling at the smell of you. He started sucking the cloth into his mouth trying to get as much of your essence into his mouth before he fully devoured you. He moved you now soaked panties to the side and finally stuck his face into your heat.

Izuku licked sloppily into you, not going into it with much thought just messily eating you. He licked and slurped all that he could, letting his fingers also get some action. He pulled his mouth away to let his fingers tease your slit making you whimper, he loved the noises you made for him. The sounds of your cunt squelching as he shoved his fingers into you, letting them bully their way inside of you. and the little mewls you let out, your hand trying to cover your mouth to not make any nose to catch any attention.

He lifted your leg and placed it over his shoulder and buried his tongue back inside of you, his fingers were still going to work as he made sure to give as much attention to your clit as possible, kitten licking it to tease you. He knew what he was doing and it showed. How did izuku know this much about eating pussy and how to make it feel nice?

Hes only had one other girlfriend that you've known of. You tried to piece together whatever you could but it's like he was trying to get you to lose your mind. He curled his fingers just right making you feel the familiar cook in your stomach turn, everything was coordinating correctly you could feel your high approaching. Izuku knew you were close and wanted you to cum, he wanted to taste your cum so badly. He wanted to be the reason you came.

“ c'mon baby, cum f’me.. get it all over me..”

His speech was slurred, his eyes were slightly rolling backwards as he slurped as much of you up as he could. You came hard on his tongue and fingers yanking and tugging into his hair making him groan into your cunt while licking your clit, he kept eating you despite you cumming the extra stimulation had you shaking and throwing your head back. The moan you let out was too loud you both knew it was, izuku couldn't care though. He finally had you where he knew he wanted you, he had wanted you for so long and hated when people would ask questions about his feelings for you.

Of course he wanted you, of course he wanted to fuck you. He loved you so much and not just as a friend. Not as a 'best friend', more than that. He wanted you to be his and he hated the thought of anyone else having you. he wanted to be so possessive over you. He wanted you to want him.

Izuku took one last lick before coming up, he crawled back up to you and gave you a sweet kiss. His lips and tongue were contaminated with your flavour, you could taste yourself on his lips and didn't know how to feel about it.

You both left the bathroom and hurried back to the group only to find that the movie had long ended, they all looked at the both of you and just snickered and laughed. you two hadn't noticed that you looked a damn mess, izukus hair was messy and your onesie was halfway zipped, you both were out if breath and izuku was extremely red.

“ what?”

“ what...?”

You both questioned in union, everyone just bursted out laughing as you all walked out of the movies. You two hadn't realized how fucked up you both looked so you were just confused. Izuku still couldn't shake what just happened however, he no longer cared about what everyone was snickering about. He'd just eaten you out and you were acting like everything was normal.

Your scent was most likely still lingering on his breath, and you were just acting like everything was normal. Izuku left out a shaky sigh, he had no idea where this would lead but he was glad he got to taste you. He wouldn't mind doing it again either.

Is this what friends do?

AN: this was kinda rushed but I js wanted to get something out

[polakina]

how they react to you getting hurt on a mission

call of duty headcanons #3

hc masterlist // masterlist

anyone else feel like there's not enough alex keller fics about? if you've got recommendations, send them my way pls <3

rating: explicit

-

heard it over comms while the 141 were raiding an enemy safehouse

you had confirmed intel that they were hiding out after an attack on the local town, so moved in to take them out

you were making your way through the upper sections of the building, whispering into comms as you cleared each room

but as you moved further down the corridor, one of the terrorists barged out of the last door on the left, firing all bullets in your direction

you managed to dodge out of the way for most of them, sending bullets through his skin and taking him down, but not before a bullet lodged itself in your shoulder

price was practically shouting in your ear as he heard the gunshots from above and through his earpiece

he made it to you first, checking over you with worried glances, pulling the collar of your shirt aside to assess the damage

cursed out of sheer panic, grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up, calling in for evac and medics

did not leave your side the whole flight back to base, constantly asking if you were okay

reaching the medic tent at base, he kept a stern eye on the medics, barking orders to be careful with you

but he was scared

scared he could have lost you

his fear always turned to anger, it was an emotional side of him you'd noticed since working together

he stayed with you the whole time

angry

so fucking angry

not at you, of course

but at literally everyone else

saw you get knocked up against the wall, pinned by your throat with a knife pointing into your stomach, hearing your cry of pain

he saw red

momentarily blacked out as he shot the guy hurting you at least 6 times

a little overkill but deemed it necessary

was immediately by your side. knocked your hand out of the way when you tried to cover it, and shushed you fiercely when you tried to tell him you were okay

did not leave any room for negotiation before picking you up bridal style and hauling ass out of there

didn't trust any medic to patch you up

did everything himself

turned super super quiet as he saw the wound fully, the blood pooling out of the gash. his face turned almost white

wouldn't speak as he cleaned and stitched the wound

it was only when he finally met your eye that his gaze softened. the apologies started uncontrollably spilling out

he apologised for literally an hour; about how he could have stopped the guy, how he could have gotten there sooner

you had to calm him down the whole night

never let you lift a finger until you were fully healed, and even after that he was hesitant to let you do anything strenuous

you caught him looking at your bandages every so often, even during training

one you even caught him in the act while he thought you were sleeping. he lifted your shirt to check you hadn't pulled any stitches, and you scared the shit out of him when you asked what he was doing

the two of you were climbing to reach a higher vantage point as appointed snipers

your rope snapped and you fell to the rocks below

he damn near snapped his neck trying to repel back down to you

saw your dislocated shoulder and couldn't hide his disgust until you pointed it out

nobody was able to reach you, the two of you were alone

said it'd click back into place on its own, and you weren't sure if he was trying to reassure you or convince himself

but when you explained he needed to knock it back into its socket, he shook his head

flat out just said no

the man can deal with blood and bullets and knives. broken bones or dislocations were not his strong suit

his stomach did that weird flip thing when he saw body parts out of place

you scolded him for being a baby and he pouted at you

had to psych himself up to do it

"its just a stupid shoulder, get it together" "don't be a baby, it'll take two seconds" "god that's so disgusting, why does it look that gross"

your eyes nearly rolled out of your head and the initial pain had basically subsided by the time he actually did it

nearly threw up when he felt your shoulder pop back into its socket

was riding alongside you in the truck when it flipped over from an enemy missile

the whole vehicle launched topside and rolled upside down

his first port of call was to turn and check on you, rushing to panic when he saw the blood on your face

after pulling himself out of the vehicle, he ran around and yanked over the driver side door, unclipping your belt and pulling you onto the pavement

saw your broken leg and almost passed out

literally forgot all his medic training in that one moment and only ended up calling for an evac when you told him to

was at your every beck and call while you recovered

you had to be wheelchair bound during your recovery, and as the base trainer, you were able to do your job from your chair

made jokes about you now having to be on wheels

did anything to lift your spirits

helped you with absolutely anything you needed, and secretly kind of liked that he had to take care of you

fell into the male housewife role really quick. scarily quickly

wheels you around base, and more often than not rolls over somebody's toes when he passes them. doesn't have the best spatial awareness capacity

always there to change your bandages, check your wounds

whenever your leg hurts, he's like a professional masseuse

[zmbiesuga]

I literally jumped with joy when you fallowed me back omg ily sm. So I was at the doctors and my doctor told me how he proposed to his wife and it was so sweet. He said he was stressed from finals and he had like a dream that his wife died and he dreamed of everything he couldn’t do with her. So when he woke up it was like 2 in the morning and he ran to his room to get the ring he had. He had it for two whole like years but ran to her dorm and begged her to say yes because he couldn’t wait. Could you write a fic of kuroo doing that with his boyfriend?

JUMP THEN FALL — k. tetsuro x m!reader

sypnosis: kuroo has always known that he wanted to marry you, and he's always said that he'll do it when he knows it's right. what's more perfect than asking after he had a dream about you dying?

warnings: mentions of death (nothing too graphic but still), kuroo being a fucking loser dork but i adore him so it's fine <3, fluff, happy ending!, angst if you squint really really hard, kuroo and reader are in their last year of college in this one, but i'm not in college yet so idfk how it works but i'll pretend i do!! use of the petnames 'babe' and 'baby'

notes: okay i'm so so sorry this took so long, i had a really bad depressive episode, i hope you like it, this request is really cute and i had a lot of fun writing it :D and two, that is so nice of you to say omg :( of course i followed you back, you always send me requests, you interact with my stuff a lot and you're just really nice so thank you for that <3

Kuroo has always wanted to marry you, it's the one thing he's been sure of in his entire life.

When you bring up marriage to him, however, he just tells you to "be patient" and that he'll "do it when he knows it's right" which constantly keeps you on your toes in case your dork of a boyfriend decides that the "right time" is during one of your lectures or at any inappropriate time really.

It kept Kuroo on his toes too, because what you don't know is that in the far-right corner of his sock drawer holds a small velvet box with a beautiful band inside of it. Every day he can feel his hand graze over the box, thinking to himself, maybe now is the right time.

But then he shakes his head, and decides it isn't.

And besides, as much as Kuroo loves you, he has finals to worry about. And they're really kicking his ass.

Although most people would peg Kuroo as the focused studious type (which he tried so desperately to be), the truth was that he tried so hard to procrastinate as much as possible. However, was it really procrastination if he needs the sleep?

When it was to avoid studying for finals, yes it was.

"Kuroo, sleeping to avoid studying for finals is not something you should do," your voice rippled out through the speaker of his phone, "especially if it's every single time you have them."

"Babe, you are the one who is constantly nagging me to sleep more," he rebutted, that stupid cocky tone he always had lingering in the back of his throat ever present, "I'm finally listening to you, I think you should take that as a win."

"Kuroo," your voice cracked again through that shoddy android speaker again, a certain firmness to it this time, "please promise me that you'll study, you're gonna hate yourself if you don't."

"Baby, I promise you I will, you know my word to you is good," he replied, you could hear that fucking cocky grin etching itself onto his face, "right after my little nap. I love you; I'll talk to you soon."

After you too bid your goodbyes, Kuroo made himself as comfortable on that dorm room mattress as he could, until his eyes got heavy, and he drifted off to sleep.

Kuroo could have sworn it was real.

The chase, your blood curdling scream, the way his stomach dropped to the soles of his feet when he realized he was too late.

It wasn't until he shot up in bed with that same nauseous feeling sitting in his chest as his breath came out panicked and labored had he realized it was nothing but a fucked-up dream.

Kuroo had never been so happy to wake up.

Slowly, but surely, he had calmed himself down. His breath returning to normal as the nauseous feeling in his chest disappeared, what didn't disappear, however, was that he didn't want to live life without you. He didn't want to graduate without you beside him, he didn't want to start a company without you there cheering him on along the way, and he sure as hell didn't want to imagine having a family with anyone else that wasn't you. Life was too short for hesitation, it was too short for his hesitation.

He quickly rushed out of bed, pulling an old hoodie over his torso, slipping on his shoes, and rifling through his drawer to grab that velvet box that had been sitting there for two years, begging to be let free.

Luckily for him, your dorm wasn't far from his. He hadn't even bothered to check the time on his phone, where the light flashed a large: 2:03 A.M. at him, he didn't care if his frantic speed walking down the hallway woke up everyone on that floor, he was only worried about getting to you.

When he got to your dorm, he rapped his fist against the door so hard he could've sworn that his knuckles would crack open. The door opened to a very annoyed you, but he didn't care if he interrupted your sleep, or your studying, he was just so elated to see you in front of him.

"Kuroo, what the hell?" you seethed, "It's two in the morning, what on earth —"

You were quickly cut off by Kuroo dropping to one knee in the doorway of your dorm room, pulling out that velvet box in all its glory, revealing that beautiful band you had mentioned liking to him once, you couldn't control the way your mouth slightly dropped in confusion, a wave of emotions hitting you like a tsunami.

"(Y/n), please, just listen to me," he blurted out in an almost pleading tone, "I've always wanted to wait until the right moment to ask you this, but recently, I've realized that the right moment was in front of me the entire time."

You tried to get a word in, but Kuroo's word vomit was faster.

"(Y/n), I've realized there is so much I want to do with you, so much that I can't do without you," he said, you swore you could see the tears well in the corner of his eyes, "everything from this point forward is useless if I can't do it with you by my side, so I'm begging you, even though it's two a.m. and we're both in our pajamas with messy hair and dark circles under our eyes, will you make me the happiest man alive, and marry me?"

It was your turn to be stunned, you stared down at your boyf — fiancée, in front of you with stained sweatpants and an old Nekoma sweatshirt barely big enough to cover his torso asking you to marry him at two in the morning.

You stayed quiet for so long, it scared Kuroo. Maybe this wasn't the right time, you two were still in college, this was all so sudden, so impulsive, he should have waited, he should have —

All these thoughts were expelled from his head as he felt your body weight push against his, squeezing him so tight in an embrace that he could barely breath.

"Yes," you whispered against the side of his neck, he could feel the tears from your eyes splashing there as well, "oh my god Kuroo, yes, a million times over."

He smiled softly at you, resting his own head against your shoulder as you held him in your arms. If this is what the rest of his life looked like, then god was he excited for it.

[bazzybelle]

Beautiful Bookbinding!

As many people know this week has been really fucking difficult for me. So when I got home today and saw a package waiting for me, I was so pleasantly surprised.

So @kydrogendragon, my wonderful, amazing, dear friend made a whole ass fucking binding of my fic, Swim For Brighter Days!!! Just look at that beautiful cover, as well as the back with the summary!!!

AND... AND!!! Look at the package it came in!

So, in the fic, Hob ends up getting really into Archeology. So much so that he ends up being one of the first people in London to publish journals about the proper ways to preserve and respect ancient archeological sites. SO Ky fashioned a whole package that looked like a draft of a research paper!!

AND... the stamps on the corner... Those are lil Easter eggs from the fic itself! I am crying!!!

THEY ACTUALLY INCLUDED ARCHEOLOGICAL NOTES AND COMMENTARY FROM SITES! LIKE THE DETAIL THAT WENT INTO THIS GIFT HAD ME IN LITERAL TEARS!

LOOK AT THIS COVER PAGE!! The olive branches on the header signifying Calliope, and the poppies on the footer signifying Dream. It's so beautiful!!

Again, the amount of thought and detail that went into this bind. Adding little commentary in pen (Hob's writing) that acts as a look into what the chapter will be about (1816 - Hob meets Calliope through George Byron). Adding the wine glass stain in 1899 because Hob had spent the evening drinking.

And then... 2022... the scorch marks. I won't spoil what happens in that chapter. You guys can read the fic or take a wild guess based on the context.

Also, GUYS! Look at the Publishing House! How it goes from White Horse Science to New Inn Science! Ky... KY!!! The fucking brilliance of your project. I am just overwhelmed with happiness.

The final chapter which includes Dream's and Calliope's messages to Hob!

I also wanted to point out the dividers throughout the book. They're a combination of Dream's poppy and Calliope's olive branches. I was screaming in delight and happiness.

Also look at the sweet lil poppy at the end. I love it!

The back of the Research Packet! Including sweet sticky notes of encouragement from Hob's lovers, Dream and Calliope. I just... I am so soft right now.

The best part of all this? The fic was written as a gift FOR Ky! It was a fic I'd written for the Sadman Server Spring Exchange. Now it has been given back to me in a beautiful meaningful bound with little nods to the fic itself.

Thank you so much, Ky, from the bottom of my heart. This gift means so much to me.

[artbychromo]

(little comic + 1.7K words, inspired by chatting about timezones + @swbookerr's fics uwu)

To be honest, Ace had partly forgotten about the Den Den Mushi. It sat on its own little table outside the Spade Pirates’ galley, and the thing hadn’t been touched since Shanks gifted it to him a few weeks ago. It also hadn’t rung yet, and Ace wasn’t certain what was appropriate grounds for calling the Red Force, anyway. 

Maybe it was only meant for emergencies? That had been Ace’s assumption. Meaning, he was startled when the thing first let out its odd, burbling call around dusk one day. He ducked out of the kitchen—he’d been helping Deuce and Skull prepare that evening’s supper, but now the two of them peered after Ace from the doorway.

Heart in his throat, he lifted the receiver. 

Sounds of chaos blared out from the little creature. Ace’s pulse raced even faster. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, until finally, the cacophony resolved itself into songs and shouts—and above that, a slurred, cheerful drawl. 

“Angel! Hello, angel? Are you there, gorgeous?” 

Ace’s nerves transformed into appalled heat, sensing the start of Deuce’s laughter from behind him.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he managed. “Shanks, what’s going on?”

The other captain let out a meandering whoop. “I just missed you, baby! Wish I could see your smile so bad. How am I supposed to dance, when you’re not here in my arms-s-s-s—arm?” 

On his end, Ace wondered if the Den Den actually replicated the waft of alcohol, or if it was just his imagination. At least no one was in danger.

Shanks went on, “The boys here got me thinking about you—”

“More like,” a voice interjected, “he wouldn’t shut up about your ass.” 

Ace flushed, hearing Skull’s chuckles join Deuce’s. It only got worse when Shanks replied, “It’s a lovely ass, I’ll have you know.”

“I didn’t mean his literal ass, Captain, though I’m sure it’s wonderful—”

“It is! Abs-o-lute heaven!” 

“Shanks!” Ace yelled (cutting off the man’s claim of “To die for!”). Chancing a glance over his shoulder, Ace was chagrined to find Skull with a hand slapped over his mouth, trying to remain composed, while Deuce had fully given up on standing and was now doubled over against the galley wall. 

Before he dealt with them, Ace had to address the matter at hand. 

“Look, we’re a little busy here,” he said tightly. “Anything else you needed to say? Otherwise, I’m gonna have to talk to you later.”

After a moment without response save for some shuffling, Ace added a cautious, “That alright, old man?”

Finally, Shanks let out a dramatic sigh. “Stars, but I missed your voice.” The background noise from the other side grew muffled, as if he’d at last found a spot away from the hubbub of his crew. He went on, drawn-out and wistful: “I don’t mean to keep you, sweetheart. Just wanted you to know I was thinkin’ about you all day, and I’ll be dreamin’ about you all night.”

Ace cursed himself for flushing further. Turning away from the galley (and the growing sound of cackling), Ace mumbled, “You’re drunk as fuck, Shanks. …Don’t go falling overboard tonight, okay?” 

“In vino veritas, little flame,” Shanks said with dignity. Then, more groggily, “Or, in sake veritas?” 

Ace put his head in his hands, but couldn’t stop the wobbling, frantic smile pulling at his cheeks. 

“Gods. Good luck with your hangover.” Then, in a rushed breath—because this whole situation was bizarre and new, and his heart was racing, but he was also so, strangely happy—Ace said, “Love you.”

Actually, this situation might be too bizarre and new: Shanks was taken off-guard. Ace heard a swift intake of breath, and then in a flood of boozy admiration, he swore, “Oh, baby, I’ll sail to you tonight! The boys’ll listen—I’ll follow the moonlight off the water, we can be together by dawn—what do you say, angel? We could spend all day together, having just the filthiest, crazed-animal se—”

Ace hung up.

—

Ace sagged against the doorway of his quarters. Even though most of his crew had retired for the day, he could feel his insomnia acting up like a jitter in his limbs. He probably wouldn’t land a good night’s sleep no matter what he tried. 

The issue wasn’t helped by his swirling thoughts. For the sake of restocking supplies, the Spade Pirates had docked in a town with some heavy anti-pirate sentiment. Somehow, the crew hadn’t been particularly bothered. Ace, on the other hand, was on edge the whole time, tensing up whenever he felt anyone’s eyes lingering on him too long.

There was no way anyone knew the truth about him. Even so, he couldn’t help superimposing faces from the rundown taverns of Goa onto those of the locals. Ace could feel the old, familiar unease simmering in his veins, like everyone had just finished hiding a sneer from him; like a knife was waiting to catch him unaware at any turn. 

But he was on his ship, now. Safe. Ace took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, yet the tension remained. A night like this one was better spent in the open air of the deck. He was just about to make his way out, when the Den Den Mushi reflected a hint of moonlight, catching his eye. 

After a moment of hesitation, Ace gathered the little thing in his arms, and took it with him to the bow of the ship. He stared contemplatively at where he’d set it on the rail. Since that first fiasco, he and Shanks had used the device a few times; their calls made it clear that he didn’t need to wait for some emergency. Still…

Watching starlight glint off the Den Den’s metal trim, he wondered what time it might be where Shanks was. The last time they’d talked, Shanks had been about half a day ahead of him. Who could say if they’d kept pace since then, though.

Stealing a glance at the crow’s nest—he was pretty sure Finamore was on shift tonight—Ace’s hand hovered over the receiver. His thoughts roiled. The tranquil rocking of the ship and the peaceful glow of the moon should have soothed him, but for some reason, they just made Ace more agitated.

He finally thought, Fuck it.

Ace waited, feeling suspended in time as the call went out. Then, he heard a click. 

“Mm… Hello?” 

Ace’s mind stalled. He was thrown off, watching the snail mimic a very sleepy Red-Haired Shanks. It was amusing at times to see the creature capture the other man’s expressions, but a little unsettling for this call; Ace directed his gaze out toward the ocean instead.

“Shanks?” he ventured. “Um. Morning?” 

There was a yawn. Then, “G’morning, little flame.” The cadence of Shanks’ voice was even slower than usual, syllables softly melding into each other. “To what do I owe the pleasure, sweetheart?”

Ace’s mouth quirked, impressed at the immediate smooth-talking. He was also, undeniably, taken in by the calming lilt of Shanks’ words. Ace twisted and untwisted a ringlet of the Den Den Mushi’s cord. 

“It’s nothin’ important, just… checking in.” Ace was unable to keep himself from adding, “What time is it there? I can call back later.” 

He heard a gentle sigh. 

“It’s never too early for you,” Shanks said. “A bit ahead of when I usually wake, but…” he hummed, exceedingly smug. “It’s cute, how you just can’t wait to hear my voice. So precious, baby.” 

Ace rolled his eyes toward the starry sky. “Yeah, I’m hangin’ up.”

Shanks let out a laugh. “Wait, now, come on. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“It’s just… been a long day.” After a few moments of curling the cord tighter, Ace asked, “Actually, could you talk about your day? What’ve you been up to?” 

A thoughtful hum came over the line, followed by a snort. “You should’ve seen the damn mess Yasopp got us into yesterday. There we were, perusing a market, when the man starts haggling…”

Ace sighed. It was nice, listening to Shanks describe the people he’d run into, the locales he and his crew had explored. Really, it would’ve been nicer to be there at his side for it all, but… the timing wasn’t right. Not yet.

Still, Ace could imagine it. He laid his head in his arms, and let Shanks’ voice carry him over the water.

Finally, as Shanks murmured about dishes they could try “just a few islands over,” Ace felt his eyelids drooping. He gave himself a small shake.

The nighttime breeze was cooler now, biting against his skin. Ace noted the hazy ache of tiredness beneath his eyes; the rhythmic lap of the ocean and its vast, ceaseless waves. Domed above him, the crispness of the stars only added to his sense of the world being yawningly immense. It would have left him unsettled… if not for the sound of Shanks’ steady breathing over the line: a tiny, precious tether in the dark. 

Ace cleared his throat. 

“Thanks, Shanks.”

His conversation partner snickered. “Good rhyme.” 

“Yeah.” Ace smiled. “I mean it, though. For this, and… everything you’ve done. For being you.”

Ace hesitated, stomach churning at his trite words. The night’s darkness helped mute his embarrassment, though; same as the blush on his cheeks. 

“It means a lot,” he finished, voice soft.

There was a brief, yet heavy silence after that, like Shanks was lingering in the pause between one breath and the next. Finally, he murmured, “We’re lucky bastards, aren’t we? I mean—” He waited a moment, so Ace could finish chuckling. 

Then he said, “I’m grateful too. To have found you.”

Ace blinked, staring out into the moonlit night. All he could offer was an agreeing hum. 

After lingering in the contented silence a moment longer, Shanks finally gave a soft laugh, and said, “Guess you should give sleep another go.” 

“Ugh. Yeah.” Ace wiped a hand down his face, but turned toward the Den Den Mushi with a smile. “Alright. Love you.” 

“Love you too, little flame. Goodnight, Ace.” 

He grinned. “Good morning, Shanks.” 

Shanks’ laugh was just crackling out when Ace replaced the receiver. He heard enough, however, to be flooded with warmth on the way back to his quarters; and as he laid in bed, easily welcoming sleep.

[captainjacklyn]

So this is part two of my first sagau post, I could turn this in a more detailed fic but knowing that it'll remain in my drafts to catch dust. I think I'll go against it and just give brief ideas for anyone who doesn't have my procrastination problem.

Now I was pretty vague about the other Primordials who watch over different realms as well as Teyvat. But I decided to give them their respective names and personalities (I suppose you can consider them OCs?) just so that we don't get too confused about the whole thing..

For a first born you have Barabath, at current times he's now an empty shell. He was the first realm to ever be created by you, born from an explosion of gas. And out of it poured a thousand dragons who all drank the fire of the first ever sun And yes I did steal that part from game of thrones, sue me. Each every one of them proceeded to descend upon their respective home, all seven of them forged from calamity. The world inhabited Erkanos (guardian of the earth), Belzo (guardian of the sky & stars), Lystéria (guardian of air & moisture), Akarnis (guardian of life), Erghyr (guardian of the mind), Steparyd (guardian of magic) and Valvers (guardian of decay). A war erupted between these gigantic yet majestic beast after your physical descent upon the lands. Their abilities were so great that it only doomed the realm after their final attack annihilated all that was left.

The second child did not end up passing like the former, you had managed to save him when disaster struck upon him. His name is Larbosa, and he is known as the god of wisdom, strength and honor. It was then that the first humans were created. So when you descended once more, they welcomed you with joy and love. But as centuries passed and wars for conquering broke out, people forgot about their creator to the point where all you became was a prize to win. You were sheltered in one of the old temples, its priestesses looked after you every passing millennium. Not as their creator, but as a simple individual who needed a place to stay. You were subsequently sold off to marry a warlord (do you see where this is going?), had three sons with him (whatever your gender is doesn't matter cause you are quite literally capable of anything), he passed, you took over, fell in love with a mortal who devoted him to you, he died, your mortal sons all perished in battle and once the people captured you, they dubbed you AN IMPOSTOR AND DISGRACE TO THE ALMIGHTY THEMSELF you were beheaded.

...

Yuh.

So what your children do when you die is that, your body will disintegrate and just turn into nothing. Then in order to in a sence 'reincarnate' you back into god hood, the realm needs to open itself and sacrifice its own part of you to rebuild you. You saved him because, you're the primordial why could you not, the first son is dead and you learn from your mistakes as a parent/jk. Larbosa is righteous and dutiful, as the second ever world to be created he takes great responsibility in aiding you. Most of the acolytes who follow him learn how to live a life of authority and perseverance through hard work. Like his second sister, he either speaks when spoken to or whenever something needs to be told. Dude is protective, will shove his arm so far up an enemy's ass it'll reach out of their mouth and wear them like a sleeve.

...Yarrhh I'm not cool today.

THIRD KID- THIS ONES A WOMAN! We have Alysia, goddess of love, beauty, and hatred. She's heavily based off of Hathor from Ennead, Aphrodite and Hera with a double personality. Because on one side she is the embodiment of what the 'ideal woman' was expected to be back in the olden days but on the other, her negative side goes against that entire facade of purity. One thing that she favors above anything else is lust, she loves toying with mortals and sees them as beings beneath her. Meanwhile you look after them like your own infants and it's something she uses to manipulate said mortals whenever they go against her judgement. Although she is is typically bright and cheery in public, she easily becomes flustered, particularly around strong beings, or when awkward situations occur. She does indeed become furious when people disrespect her or when she doesn't get her way. The only one who she holds the greatest respect for is her creator YOU, she is highly protective of YOU and will get frustrated when people use her love for YOU as a way to blackmail her. Alysia deeply cherishes her siblings though she has a tendency to call her younger sister a heartless little sh- they all get along, especially with Larbosa.

Second daughter I've mentioned in the past, holds the title of Cymbalia. Her people were known for their truthful justifications and judgment. They knew not of the creator as you were afraid that showing yourself to its collectives would cause yet another loss. Cymbalia, however, was fully aware of her birth-giver’s existence so she chose to be reborn in order to regain their godhood. Though she continued to watch over her people. This had been the first realm to survive complete wipe out but at the cost of being ignorant to your love for them. Cymbalia is mainly stern and focused, and she also often stands up to other powerful gods, like the former : Alysia or Larbosa. She isn’t afraid to speak her mind and utter her words of judgement at any given situation, this trait isn’t appreciated by her older sister who considers her a stickler for the rules. Cymbalia speaks in a assertive tone to display her power to those around her, whether it be a younger sibling or a simple acolyte. She can get especially irritating when commanding people, blackmailing them into obeying her orders. Strangely enough, she favors souls that go against the rules to reach new lengths, people like Il Dottore who quite literally break the laws of life. Goddess of Harmony, Truth and Justice.

Rhymar was the fourth attempt, once again unsuccessful. It only inhabited dry land with no life whatsoever, Rhymar felt insanely bored and began creating their own creatures which unfortunately resulted in a never ending time loop. You tried to help your child but Rhymar ended up insisting on their plans pushing its boundaries so far that the realm began to close in on itself (this was when the multiverse was created, Rhymar controlled the essence of time within himself and could rewind any event they deemed unfruitful). Leaving you no choice but to rebirth them and have their being ascend into godhood as well. Rhymar is quite sarcastic and unfazed, they are more sassy than straightforward. This was shown when you once tried to cheer up Alysia by telling her that she was doing a wonderful job but Rhymar had a change of heart and instead commented with : “I’d say no.” making their older sister feel terrible. Unafraid of defying the rules simply because they feel like doing so, Rhymar was baptized as the troublemaker in the family. When needing to apologize for anything they are stubborn enough to refuse unless their mother comes to them, requesting otherwise. They're the youngest kid, the most chaotic and the god of God of abundance, fertility and foresight.

so..

yeah.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAGHCHCGHCGCHCGHHCCCGEEEEUUUUUUUUGH-

[stellisketches]

why? please explain the soldier, port, king in excruciating detail PLEASE

EDIT: ITS FINALLY DONE i'm so sorry this took me like six months I got really busy with school work and I wanted to make sure I wasn't half-assing this anyway thank you for asking please enjoy

For reference I will be quoting the “Poet Soldier King” test on uQuiz as I feel they summarize each role most succinctly.

"You wonder, sometimes, if anger is the only thing you can feel. Remember: love is passion too. You made your own rules and will follow them to death. You try and forget that there is only one rule, and that it is "FIGHT". You are tired of fighting. You try to forget that, too, and keep going. You dream of quiet. Your love is where you heal." -Soldier

It's a subtle element but Vylad’s entire character/existence is about enduring conflict. It's an easy thing to forget due to his calm demeanor, but Vylad has been fighting since the moment he was born (hell, even before). Fighting the ill-contrived gossip of being a bastard son, fighting to prove himself a genuine Ro’Meave, and fighting against Garte and Zane’s abuse over his childhood. It’s a subtler form of conflict, but it’s very interesting to imagine how he was able to put up with all of it (I’ve planned so many prequel fics about the Ro’Meaves you guys). Then there’s the whole shadowknight topic that really is indicative of itself. Vylad's whole arc was based upon leaving behind the violence of his past as a literal soldier within the Shadow Lord's army. Again it’s really easy to forget but this is someone who was revived to burn the world to the ground and slaughter any and every man, woman, and child that got in the way of it. He told Aphmau himself in season 2: “One good deed does not fix a thousand wrongs done. I'm not a good person, let's just leave it at that. Please.” We may not have seen it on screen, but who knows how long Vylad was traveling with Sasha and Gene. I doubt Phoenix Drop was the first village they targeted, and I doubt Gene or Sasha or even Zenix were ever like “oh yeah you can wait outside while we commit atrocities on this Lord and his family and burn the whole village to the ground.” Vylad has a very practical mindset (another trait indicative of a good soldier), and it wouldn’t surprise me if he was purposefully good at his job so it would land him more opportunities to get out of the nether now and again. He enacted violence well enough that he was trusted to be sent outside the nether to go fuck up the overworld. Vylad is a man thoroughly haunted by war and the violence he’s committed against others in a way his brothers just… aren't. Sure, Garroth knows fighting and violence as a means of protection and ensuring the safety of others, but he doesn’t know war. He’s never had someone he cared about die in his arms. He’s never seen a whole village burn to the ground and see innocent people slaughtered left and right. He’s never seen a child screaming at their dead mother to get up. He may use violence, but he was never a violent person. Zane, on the other hand, most definitely was, however, but he hardly ever enacted any of the violence himself. 90% of the time it was jurors or guards he’d given orders to. And while he was more than happy to get his hands dirty every once in a while, he never felt genuine consequence from it. 

Continuing on Vylad’s inner psyche, we see after he still keeps a very practical, soldier-like mindset out of the nether in company with Aph and Co: He gets annoyed at Aphmau when she puts off telling everyone about the Tuu’la invasion. He surveys Laurance from a distance and does not interfere even in danger because he’s aware of the long term effect of distrust it would cause him. Upon the chaos in Narhaka, he immediately goes to burn books that have important locations the enemy could use against them. This is actually one of my favorite scenes because of how subtly status-quo breaking it is. Tell me right now of any scene involving book burnings done by a guy the audience is supposed to root for. Vylad’s view of the world makes him incredibly pragmatic and able to calculate the win-loss ratio of his actions and let that decide whether or not he will go through with it.

Vylad may not have the typical surface-level look of the characters often put into the category, but if you really dive into his past, his mindset, and the way he views the world, he easily fits into the role of soldier; with the final line “Your love is where you heal” setting him on the path of redemption we see throughout the whole series.

"Loneliness. Strength. Joy. You are powerful, but struggle believing it. You think you're not enough. Here's the truth : you are. You sing songs and hope they carry faith, because you have run out of it, and yet you still throw your heart out to the world and hope it makes it through. You convince yourself that pain is art because at least then, you will always have something to create. You are tired of stumbling through life. You dream of a ground you can stand on. One day, you will dance. Your love is where you feel - without fear." -Poet

Now I admit for Zane it does require a more particular perspective to place him as poet, but I’ll start simple and slowly transition to red string and corkboard. Firstly, from the original song lyrics, “He will slay you with his tongue” applies in at least two different ways. The first being obvious: Zane is incredibly charismatic- you don’t just make it to High Priest without a certain degree of people skills included but not limited to negotiating, preaching, and being able to reason your way through any theological question a questioning sinner could ask you. It’s a shame we don’t see it put into use very often throughout the series, but I think his position gives enough testament to his people skills. The second way this line applied is a bit more literal and a bit more dark, which would be the sheer amount of people who were murdered not by his hands directly, but on mere orders. He can quite literally have people slain in just a few words to the right people. Moving to the more esoteric; the line “You are powerful, but struggle believing it. You think you're not enough.” seems like it be a hitch to his characterization, as it first invokes the idea of someone who lacks self-confidence, which is FAR from what we see Zane characterized as in the story. However I see this from the lense of artists becoming blind to the depth of their own skill. Zane is powerful, but it’s not enough for him. He’s become so accustomed to the level of influence he holds he’s become desensitized to it, like how you stop feeling the cold of the water once you stay in it long enough.The power he’s been swimming in his entire life no longer brings that vitalic shudder of control he craves. Thus he seeks power that goes beyond mortal influence to raw, unchanneled divinity, as that’s the only thing that he has ever been told is above him. He hungers the same as any artist— to be something greater than they already are.

“You convince yourself that pain is art because at least then, you will always have something to create.” The idea of creation draws back to Zane’s relationship with control and divinity. I think it's highly debatable as to whether or not Zane has actual “faith” in the divine (i.e, seeing them as gods he wishes to emulate or simply as extremely powerful beings minus the religious element), but in either case it again leads back to desire for more. (sidenote: Zane’s fatal flaw being lust is such a delicious piece of irony and I could make an essay of its own on it). Anyway, back to the point I was originally trying to make: Zane sows pain and destruction as a means of asserting his power/importance both to others and himself. The “pain” spoken of would normally belong to the poet themself— but this is no ordinary poet, and there is no specific indication where said pain emerges from. 

"Duty. Strength. Resignation. You were told to do things and you did them. The world is something that was put into your hands and that you must deal with - so you will. You have a rigid back and steady hands, either metaphorically or physically. Is it nature or nurture ? You don't know. You are tired of being steady. You dream of feeling alive. Not that you aren't, but, sometimes, it's hard to remember that there is a heart between your ribs. Your love is where you breathe." -King

God where do I start. “Duty. Strength. Resignation” It’s like someone just said ‘describe Garroth in three words’. Duty has been his entire life, wanted or not, which leads directly into resignation. “You were told to do things and you did them.The world is something that was put into your hands and that you must deal with - so you will.” He learned his history. He learned the politics. He followed the dogma. He believed in Irene and his father and the glory of O’Khasis and his divine duty to lord over its people. His people. He said it himself in episode 68 he wanted to be exactly like his father, and that he thought to be lord was an honor and a privilege. To him, the weight of the world has rested upon his shoulders for so long that he becomes accustomed to each additional hardship quickly and quietly, never kicking up a fuss about his growing stress and dissatisfaction, like a frog in a pool of water that is steadily increasing in temperature. He locks his festering disdain for glorification of leadership away from his father, his family, and the rest of the world because he cannot show that he is anything but the Atlas of duty he was born to be. 

Until, one day, he has enough. He saw what happens to his dear little brother, likely the only person he felt he could truly bond with, and despite everything he still dealt with it, for the sake of the people around him, but when his father commands him to marry a girl he has never met (likely while he is still processing his grief) in the name of ‘duty’, it is the straw that breaks the camel's back. He sees that everything he has worked towards is meaningless as he will never reach a point where his father will be satisfied with him. That his father will continue to take and take from him until there is nothing left but a soulless puppet that will continue to speak his words even after his reign has ended. Every burden he has carried, every grievance he has hidden, every struggle he’s overcome and the hard work he’s put into building himself a true heir of O’Khasis— it all amounts to nothing.

So he leaves. 

Now, let me ask you: what would you do if you were a runaway prince escaping the crushing weight of expectation? Take a bunch of money from your no-good dad? Buy a boat ticket and live a new life in luxury on the other side of the world? Never work a day again and dive head first into careless relaxation? Surely, you wouldn’t look twice at a dilapidated little village on the coast. Wouldn’t bother to stop by and lift a finger to help it. You're free, you have a whole life of sweet exemption to look forward to. You wouldn’t give it the time of day.

“You have a rigid back and steady hands, either metaphorically or physically. Is it nature or nurture?”

Garroth finds himself in Phoenix Drop— a rickety dead-end little town as far away from home as possible. He stays, and he helps. He keeps the village running, he helps the Lord wherever he can. He takes in the broken, starved boy he finds in the woods. He does whatever he can to improve the lives of the people around him. Why? He owes them nothing, he’s spent a lifetime crushed under the weight of people's expectations and he turns around just to find himself carrying the weight of more lives on his shoulders. He is doing everything he was taught and everything he ran away from. 

But this time it’s different. This time, he sees how he’s helping. There’s no more grating voice telling him none of the effort matters. He has a rigid back and steady hands, metaphorically and physically. For the first time in his life, he can see with his own two eyes that his effort is worth it. There isn’t doubt and lies and corruption floating in and out of his mind. Just the warm, honest smiles of the people he helps. He feels it and it is real. The question “Is it nature or nurture?” is genuine: Is Garroth helping these people out of the kindness of his heart or because it was what he was always told to do, and now that he is without the purpose he was assigned he’s leaning on something familiar? Personally, I think that’s for the audience to decide. I myself would say a mixture of both, leaning more so towards nature. But I digress. 

It’s better then, when he helps and can see that he is doing good, but of course, that peace is not to last him. With the Lord’s death and impending turmoil of Phoenix Drop, Garroth’s role in the village shifts drastically to closer resembling the role he ran away from. People are treating him with near as much kindness anymore, no. The most forgiving are losing faith and the least are blaming him. Blaming him for failing to meet their expectations. Now, as things are deteriorating, he has more than enough reason to leave. He gave it the good ol’ college try, and he failed. With the sentiments of the village becoming scarily familiar to that of his father, he should just say “fuck it” and head on off to that faraway land where no one will know his name.

But still, he doesn’t. We see him in Rebirth and how desperate he is to fix the village, to make it work. Even when everyone else is telling him to give up, he refuses. Even sinking, a captain stays on his ship. (Side note: it’s scenes like this that cause me to start tearing up people’s lawns whenever I see takes that label Garroth as having a “fear of responsibility”). And he is completely ready to either make things work or die trying, regardless of what stands in his way. 

‘You are tired of being steady. You dream of feeling alive. Not that you aren't, but, sometimes, it's hard to remember that there is a heart between your ribs.’

Aphmau wasn’t the first person he saved. Zenix had likely been around for at least a year beforehand. However Zenix was a hothead teenager in need of guidance, which simply made him become another responsibility Garroth set upon himself. Don’t get me wrong, he definitely cares for him, but their relationship is far different than the one he has with Aphmau. 

With Aphmau, he finally has someone who shares the burden. Not only that, but sharing it willingly and with a smile on her face. He’s not used to having a person who presents themselves as an equal sharer of responsibility. Much less, someone who is willing and wanting for him to put his burdens on her (At least, that’s how he sees it). He can’t remember the last time he truly allowed himself to be vulnerable with someone. All the desires he’s pushed down start to bubble back up again, and he starts to imagine things he’d long tried to do away with. He sees Aphmau as a strong leader, one whose idealism is a strength and not a weakness, and how she accomplishes things he never quite got around to doing. An admiration grows for her, yes, but that’s not what makes her different. The difference, he sees, is her vulnerability. How she allows herself to be vulnerable around him. How despite the brave face she puts on, she has just as much fear that she isn’t enough. And she tells him this, directly, because she trusts him. And all of a sudden he realizes that if she can be strong to the rest of the world, and yet still let him see her weakness, her softness, then maybe, just maybe

“Your love is where you breathe.”

He can take his armor off, too.

[vindictusoverlord]

Greetings, Earthlings! It’s a Tartaglia fic… Fontaine be hittin 🥰🥴

The word count in this one is: 7,023. Reposted bc Wattpad wildin, and I’m just tryna cook.

TW; Kink list including: CNC, daddy/mommy, breeding, slapping/biting, dirty talk, submissive!Reader, public(ish)

Thanks for tuning in.

--  ץдкรђค

----------

For the last three damn months, he had been playing this game with you.

In the beginning, your guard was high. Something about this uncomfortably friendly Snezhnayan man sent chills up your spine that didn't let up, even long after he had gone and left you to your devices. Being a foreign diplomat was a false cover and you knew that. The unfortunate business had it that your job was literally to assist him with whatever, wherever, and whenever he may need it, which often meant scrambling to complete paperwork he didn't want to do, or organize meetings with particularly difficult clientele he didn't want to deal with. Being in the business of legality left you with massive stacks of paperwork's following his Mora concerns, and the tax calculations along with them. Your boss fell beside himself whenever Childe entered the building, sprouting on and on about the Bank and Fatui's prominence, refusing to hear anything you had to say about the matter. Even if you understood why, the sad sack was nothing more than a Grade A ass kisser.

You wished you could print it on a name tag and sew it to his oversized forehead.

Truthfully, it wasn't just the way your boss behaved that upset you. The whole endeavor made you sick and nothing but loathing had emerged from your stomach towards the foreigner. It was a deep feeling, one that siphoned your will to be friendly and cordial and replaced it only with a senseless dread.

Hands placed on the edges of the sink, you sigh out, hunching your sore, overworked back. Much of your stress hung there, pressing angrily against strained nerves. In the mirror, you gaze at your reflection; water dripped from your hair to your skin, and then onto the cool tile with soft platplatplats to take up the silent air. It was cold today, and the atmosphere in your small apartment had been tense.

With a heavy heart, you raise a towel to your hair, wicking away the water, slowly working down to dry your body, before wrapping it finally within your (h/c) locks. It was going to be a long day, and you knew that, but nothing had prepared you for the next 17 hours of running around Liyue on behalf of Childe, your man-child of a boss, or the ever present dock merchants. By the time you got home again later that night, your feet ached and your body could barely hold itself up.

You collapse on your couch, flinging your shoes off back towards the door. The business uniform would have to do as sleep attire for now.

I'm so tired....

Your mind began to drift towards sleep. It was another night without dinner, but that hadn't seemed to bother you much the last few days. Carried softly to sleep by the soft sounds of the ocean, you—

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"(Y/N!)" The frantic barrage just a few feet away startled you awake. "(Y/N), please! Open up!"

You let out a hiss as you stand, feeling the soreness of your knees as you rise. "Okay, okay," you mutter, undoing the deadbolt, and opening the door slowly. "Do you know what fucking time it is? What is it?"

On the other side, your team's paper catcher stood straight as a board. His name was lost to your tongue most times, as he was nose deep in paperwork and served more as a scapegoat to the office than anything else. You believed it started with a T....

"(Y/N)! I'm so sorry to bother you this late; I know it's past the end of your shift and I'm sure you'd much rather be sleeping but—"

His voice prattled on and on;

"What does he want?" You pinch your brow. "Is it that ridiculous Shneznayan again? I already told you, man. I'm not running anymore errands for the fucking Fatui tonight, and sure as shit not for that Archon-forsaken Harbinger either."

The receptionists face went white as soon as the words left your mouth. He cleared his throat and forced a smile, stepping to the side. "The esteemed Childe requested to speak to you, (Y/N). I do apologize for the intrusion, but I um--" He looks back and forth, breath catching quickly in his throat. "If you'll please excuse me, I— I do wish you both a very pleasant evening." and with that, he scurried off. You open your door further to peer past, wondering where he could have gone so quickly.

And on the other side, the tall, red-headed man stands slides into view before you. His smile is sinister as he peers at you with a curious look in his eye. "Well, well! If it isn't the lovely Miss (Y/N). It truly is a pleasure to see you again."

Shit.

You straighten, holding the door firmly in place. "Likewise. What can I assist you with at this time, Childe?" It was hard to hide the venom in your voice.

He shifts his weight, crossing his arms. "I did request your help with something, but it sounds like you don't like us very much. Maybe I could ask your boss instead—"

"No, that won't be necessary." You step forward from your door. "I'd be happy to help. Just need my shoes first."

The solemn grimace on your face seemed to serve as entertainment to deepen his sadistic smile. You swallow your pride, and prayed this assignment would be over soon.

He led you through the quiet streets of Liyue, not daring to disturb the peace of the calming city. Below you, a skeleton crew of dock workers bustled about, and a few business's lights began to go out. A cold breeze had settled over the sea, bringing in a fog that only served to make the air more frigid.

You shiver, holding tightly to your arms, and never letting your gaze leave the man that guided you along. He held himself high. Everything about him, from his head to his shoes, radiated something across from resembling dignified and laid back. His long, white coat fussed in the breeze, the heavy tails trailing behind him as he walked along. His pace was quick, and it took a lot out of you just to keep up.

Oh, to be a Fatui Harbinger. You wondered to yourself, absently thinking about the leisure they must enjoy. An endless supply of money, power, and political outreach; well, they all enticed you. Part of you wondered if it was possible to reach that level of comfort here in Liyue, as your bills were barely scraped by with what you did earn... which was quite a bit more than most. It was expensive in the city, and as much as you worked, you knew it would not be enough.

Eventually, the Golden House appeared before you. It's long elegant steps laid out the path Childe began to follow and you carried on directly behind him. Your fatigue had set in strongly now, mind becoming blank from the long days. You needn't ask the task, as you'd been here many times previous. It was paperwork. Always fucking paperwork.

With grace, he brandished a polished brass key and pushed open the large double doors. The building was empty, as to be expected, and the echoes of your footsteps brought clarity back to your mind even if for a split second. Beyond the massive corridor, a few hallways darted off and separated into smaller offices. He leads you down to an office near the back, the only barely lit door slightly ajar in the whole building.

You'd never seen anyone else at the Golden House. It had always just been the two of you, and maybe your boss or the Quixing, but rarely. Keqing herself could hardly spare the time.

He turns to you, gesturing to the desk. "Yep, you guessed it! Paperwork." He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. "Oh, come on, you can't hate me that much, girlie! I just need a few signatures and you'll be on your way."

You suck air through your teeth. Girlie. Cringe.

Without much else to say, you take your seat and get to work. The Harbinger takes a spot across from you on the opposite side of the desk. He kicks his feet up, gingerly placing his shoes as far as he can decently manage from the stacks of paperwork. From the inter pocket of his overcoat, he pulls out a book and flips a few pages to the middle. Now that he was out of your way, you could focus.

Soon, you'd go home.

After a few hours, it seemed that all the stacks had been finished. Your fingers ached.

"Is there anything else I can do for you or can I please go home now?" You sigh, not daring to move from your spot. You had a sneaky feeling he'd come up with something else.

He seems to ponder for a moment, closing his book. Your irritation grows quickly as you wait. Seconds turn to what feels like hours and your blood runs loudly in your ears. "You know," he says, "I really should find more work for you. Maybe it's not enough for you to be grateful to be employed."

He must have seen the anger on your face because he continues on as if it amuses him. "You really don't like me much, huh, girlie? I think the big man wouldn't be too happy to hear that you put up a fight and made me mad, right?"

He stands slowly, shirking off his overcoat and draping it over the plush couch cushion.

"Or maybe, you could apologize and be nicer to me," Childe makes his way around the desk, cooing his ultimatum. His aura feels like he's stalking you like prey; the pure bloodlust makes your skin crawl like a million bugs. "And we can move on, or," As he approaches you, he lowers his face to your exposed neck. You feel his lukewarm, minty breath burn against your skin, prickling it like a thousand needles. Your heart stops when he grips your shoulder, and as his hand creeps up to your throat, you feel that fear giving way to... what is that feeling?

He whispers so softly, you thought you misheard. "I can fuck the obedience into you."

You gulp, struggling on the frog in your throat. Realizing what he said, you jump up and wheel around, bumping hard into the desk. "Excuse me?" Your voice breaks.

"Now that," he puts his hands up, shaping a rectangle with his fingers. "I like that look on your face, Miss (L/N)." His arrogant laugh rings menacingly. "Are you awake now?"

You're taken aback by the tonal shift. His voice is lighthearted and fun again. "I—" you begin, and choke on your words.

"You?" Childe asks, amusement marching like a parade across his handsome face. "Go ahead."

You choke, clear your throat and say goodbye to your pride, and continue. "I'm truly sorry, Childe. For the way I've acted. I can't lose this job. I'm sorry."

He hums, moving the rolling chair out of his way. He steps closer, amusing himself with your ragged presentation. "See," he says, and quickly snakes a hand behind your head. His fingers tangle in your hair, forcing your head back to look at him. "That just won't do."

Without meaning to, you let out a yelp, bringing your hands up defensively to the arm gripping you. His other arm scoops and lifts you ass first onto the heavy wooden desk, scattering stacks of the finished papers all about the ground. Your back slams down with his weight above you, the man's face just inches from your own. "Say it like you fucking mean it."

Your breathing is ragged, chest heaving as he leers over your tiny form. His oceanic gaze pierces through you, an intense longing somewhere deep within the sultry lust; you feel him pressing firmly against your thighs. His hips are rigid and firm, unmoving against your squirming body. "I'm sorry, sir!" You blurt, cringing almost immediately after and expecting the worst.

His soft lips meet your cheek, gently kissing your quivering jaw. "Mm, I like that..."

He then pulls back, chuckling at your response. In kind, he releases your hair, purring at your response. "That's much better."

He straightens up and walks away from the desk where you lay, grabbing his jacket on his way towards the door. The suddenness of his retreat left you cold and unwanted, closer to unfinished than anything. His demeanor had surfaced something within you. It was close to a strong, unbound loathing, but your insides... well, they were alit with a mean flame of desire all the same.

"You're free to go home, girlie." He says, standing in the doorway. "After you clean this up, of course. Those papers are due to Ningguang by sunrise. I'll need you to do that, too."

You peered at the clock that now lay on the equally disheveled carpet flooring.

03:07 AM.

With a heavy, uneven sigh, you lower yourself from the desk and began gathering the papers. You found yourself doing that a lot lately, and grew rather tired of cleaning up other's messes.

Why did he do that?

-----

For several days following, Childe did not act different than he normally would with his business partners. He was cordial and polite, no longer requesting you at every second of the day. At times, his fiery gaze would occasionally linger on you when the two of you were alone, but would not last longer than a few moments if you caught him. The work load seemed to lighten, too, and at least that helped reduce your work stress. The problem that remained was the cuttable tension that arguably had you just as stressed as before. Every time you felt his gaze, you squirmed in your spot, aching.

What was all that about anyways?

It kept you up at night, steaming in your head an uncertainty and jealousy of his attention. All this time of harassing you, bothering you, overworking you, and now he had nothing to even say to you if you passed by. Looking back, it seemed to be often that the two of you would cross paths even if it didn't make sense to do so.

But because the work load had dissipated so substantially, you decided that for the first time in months, you should let your guard down a bit. Clearly, he had at least listened to you at some point. The new-hires had been exceptionally diligent leading up to the next traditional event Liyue was hosting at the Terrace. Overall, you allowed yourself to relax and take everything by stride. Taking over as a trainer had been very beneficial in the end.

It was a far cry to hope this lasted longer than a few days but it was worth a shot you supposed. The nameless Fatui agent held the door open before you as they had done many times before, you felt at ease for your summons to the Harbinger's office. Your palms felt steady, confident, holding the stack of manila folders. After receiving a friendly greeting from the desk agent and signing in, you made your way down the unnecessarily long hallway and to the ornate frosted glass door.

"Wow, look who it is!" He chimes, calling out shortly before you reached his door as if he knew you were coming. "You sure are fast!"

You pause, standing in the doorway. "More folders; Keqing herself signed off on your proposition to the festival."

"Is that right?" He asks, his gaze is fiery, challenging even, with his fingers interlaced under his chiseled chin. "Glad to hear it."

You nod your head, place the folders in the empty drop box beside the door, and turn for the exit. "If you'll excuse me."

"No, no, please stay for a moment, (Y/N)."

Oh, that tone...

You suck in your teeth, gazing around the room at anything else but him. He was so intimidatingly beautiful and the power he held in one finger could hold back a whole crowd with ease. He commanded obedience and it tortured you that that very thought had been in your mind every night you spent alone. Even the gentle voice he used here seemed to hold your being in place, churning a beast within.

The office was large; much larger than your living room and held a variety of extravagant decorum across the area. Two large velvet sofas, both dyed a deep burgundy, and a heavy, dark wood coffee table sat at a distance, with a large portion of the wall to your right covered in towering bookshelves. On the wall behind his desk, windows adorned with heavy velvet curtains scored out a panoramic view of the harbor and seafront. Small wrought iron shelves adorned with a variety of meticulously kept plants and flowers from different areas, and supplied the room with a very clean, humid atmosphere. Even the lighting, which was almost completely supplied by the noon sun, set the room leagues away from your own environment and shamed your personal cubicle.

The Harbinger before you stands, silently creeping around his desk to catch the door behind you. He quietly brings it to a close before pulling out a chair for you. "Please, have a seat."

He smiles, letting you rest in the plush chair. You mumble out a thank you, stiffening your back as proper as you're able. Childe leans across from you on the desk and crosses his legs at the ankles. After a moment, he speaks, "Is there anything that I, or the Northland Bank, can do for you to make your tasks more enjoyable, Miss (L/N)?" His hand holds his chin perked up and inquisitive, watching you from above.

Your face flushes, not coming up on any real words. You found yourself landing back on the typical response, relishing in it's soft ease off your lips. "N-No, not really. I've... not felt the best, so I may have been slacking on my duties."

"You've been doing fine, actually. In fact, you're far exceeding expectations but," He exhales heavily, grabbing his glass of dark wine delicately. As the man cups the glass, you find yourself lingering on his long, slender fingers. He catches your gaze and taps them individually on the glass teasingly. "Something's on your mind. You seem distracted~"

"Hmm— Nope, I'm okay!" You laugh nervously, scratching the back of your head. You remember how those same fingers felt twisting in your hair for those few moments. Within your chest, you feel your heart skip a beat and heat your veins.

"Just be honest. We're all friends here." There's that same devious smile on his lips as before, and your mind begins to wander viciously.

"Okay, sure." An inhale, an exhale, you stiffen. "But I meant it. I don't have anything to say."

He hums. "Nothing at all?"

"Nothing at all, sir."

"That attitude... you don't give me that when you're working for me anymore." He grins, gathering a view over your rigid form. "I really wish you would."

Before you realize what you're saying, you ask: "Oh? Is that so?"

"Oh~" A glitter in his eyes appears, his glare intense over the wine glass. "It'd make the punishment all the better, don't you think?"

You shudder with a bubbling anger, hating every inch of confidence this man has with in him. He knows that he's doing, and it pisses you off all the more. "I'll—"

He sets the glass down. "You'll, what? Hm?" Childe leans forward, close enough to your ear that you can feel his breathing. "You'll tell on me?"

The man drops to a squat, hands resting on his knees. This way, he's almost eye level with you and all the more intimidating. "Are you gonna tell them how much you liked it, too? What about how you desperately wanted me to fuck you right there in the office?

"Or," Childe brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trace along your jaw, and finally, down your neck to your shirt collar, earning a hearty shiver. His other hand finds it's place on your lower thigh, making tiny swirls with his thumb. It slowly tracks up your thigh and under your skirt, tugging on the hem briefly before disappearing underneath. "How you think about me every night when you touch yourself? Biting your pillow and crying my name..." His breath comes out like a shudder, almost as if he's mocking you as he enunciates ever syllable. "'Tar...tag...li...a!~'"

Your body shrinks in the chair. His presence is so overwhelming. "Stop that..."

Instinctively, you reach out to push away his touch.

As soon as his soft lips graze against your neck, your heart is going a million miles an hour. The tip of his tongue trails across your sensitive flesh, raising goosebumps all over. "I can't stop," His fingers slide under the fabric of your cotton panties, moving in slow shapes along your sex, but you don't move your hands away. "Unless you beg me to." He mutters and your whole body almost caves in on itself.

His teeth sink softly into your skin, allowing just a small rush of pain and adrenaline to catch you off guard, bucking your hips by instinct. You rush to cover your mouth before any sounds come out, and Tartaglia grins against your skin, speaking in between the trail of sloppy kisses he leaves behind. "Such... a good... girl..."

The man lifts his face slightly to view your expression. "Oh~ Look at that~" He purrs, delicately moving his fingers in slow, circular motions over your clit. You can feel the heat bubbling up again. You think for a moment that he may have spied on you before when he mentioned your... private extracurricular activities. Just the idea of that alone was enough to bring the edge close. He was here, touching you, speaking so lewdly to you, and for the longest time, that had just been a dream.

"P-please..." You grip the arm rests of the chair, thighs twitching with anticipation. "That's not fair..."

"Aww, girlie," he casually removes the two fingers from under your skirt, placing his large palm against the side of your face. He cups your cheek so tenderly, holding up your trembling jaw almost as if he truly cared. "Are you scared of me?"

You gaze back at him through heavy eyelids, nodding slowly. How badly you fought yourself on the morality of all of this... It started to give way.

"Good," he growls, sending a firm smack to your cheek. "You fucking should be." He rises to his feet quickly.

A surprised gasp escapes your lips, your mind recoiling over itself. Without a second to spare, he grabs your face again and holds your chin firmly in place. "Stand up."

You shakily do so, noticing how much he towers over you. He hastily turns the two of you around, lifting you up onto his empty desk. Tartaglia moves his hands gingerly from your hips up your torso, snaking up the skin underneath your sweater. You feel every movement he makes, his lips leaving soft love bites on your neck, his rough palms against your warm flesh, and the way his chilled fingers pressed firmly into your sides to keep you in place.

Tartaglia kisses along your jaw, sneaking a kiss as he makes his way around. Your face burns as you return his fervor, finding a perfect chemistry. Chest in disarray, beating hard against your ribs, you arch your back to press into his towering form. He smiles and hums into the kiss, feeling your small hands reach up to tangle in his hair, your legs wrap like rope around his waist trying desperately to cling to his warmth. Your confidence seems to stir something in his mind.

He pulls back, just barely grazing your lips with his own. "You really piss me off, you know that?"

The harbinger's hips grind a bit rougher against yours, moving in something of an infinity shaped motion. You catch his bottom lip with your teeth and earn a deep growl from the man before you. He quickly lifts your uniform sweater above your breasts, cupping them firmly in this hands, toying with your nipples through the thin, lacy fabric of your bra.

Tartaglia moves down between your thighs once again, never breaking his rhythm within your kiss. A soft moan escapes your lips, lost in the heat of the moment.

Without hesitation, Childe shoves you back onto the desk, looming over you like a predator. He hooks his hands under your thighs, pulling you to the end of the desk. Your ass barely hangs over the edge; inner thighs still pressed up tightly against his waist. His eyes are dark, full of lust.

"I'm going to break you," Childe straights his back, trailing his hands back down your thighs, and then back up. He pushes up your skirt, revealing a black matching lace undergarment; you flush, overwhelmingly nervous.

Beneath his large frame, you felt a strong panic as his body weight pinning you against the heavy oak table.

You struggle to get away, squirming finally out of his grasp and headed quickly towards the door.

"Aht, aht, aht~" he coos, pulling your arms back and slamming you face first back on the desk. Your back is turned to him now, his hips grinding slowly against your bottom. "Where do you think you're going, girlie?"

You shudder. Your stomach churns from his demeanor, feeling overwhelmed by the grip of his hands on your wrists. He holds them firmly above your head with one hand, and for a moment, your panic almost caves. "Childe... please~!"

"Doesn't really sound like you're asking me, (Y/N), so," His soft lips graze across your nape. "No, I don't think I will."

You feel your skirt hike up your back again, and his free hand finds it's place fondling your bottom. He squeezes firmly, prepping himself to smack hard.

SMACK!

You yelp, a fierce heat radiating across your ass.

"Fuck you!" You raise your voice back at him. So badly do you want to lay onto him, to release a thick onslaught of curses, but your voice quivers and it comes out as little more than a squeak.

He almost softens, but the edge in his stance never leaves him. He smacks your bottom again, this time upon the other side. "Is that it?" He says, and hits you again... and again. Your yelps become buried into the polished surface of the desk, slowly becoming moans ruminating with something like fear. Your legs begin to buckle, shaking at the continued abuse, and the fire on your skin stings against the cool air of the office. You lift your head up.

"Fuck," your breathing is heavy, but you push it out like it was a dying breath. "You."

Childe laughs, gripping a fistful of your tussled (h/c). He moves his other hand to your cheek, swiping it across quickly. As if on command, your face instinctively contorts to the pain. Furrowing your brows, you look over your shoulder at him, doing your best to muster whatever anger comes to the surface.

"Oh~ I just love it, (Y/N)." He says calmly, sliding his rough hands softly along the developing bruises on your behind. His palms, weathered from years of battles and scarring, felt soothing along your welted skin. You lean into his touch. It felt like your head was reeling from the intensity of his abuse.

He smiles, leaning into your back. The man's lips grace along your nape as he whispers, "You are so beautiful."

Your face flushes a hot shade of red as bright as Venus itself. As his hands work their way back to your loins from the front, you grind your behind perfectly against his arching beltline. He groans against you, silently grateful for the harmony that you had both found. It saved your from the pain, at least.

It doesn't take long for him to pull you off the desk and set you, practically toss you, onto your knees. He takes your place, leans coolly against the frame, pulling his belt out of their loops in one quick swipe. He places it beside himself before bending to grab your hands. Steadily, you unbutton his pants, hooking your fingers over the hem with caution. You take a timid peek up at him.

His eyes....

They're carnal. Such likeness to a beast, or any monster of any horrible, fearsome storybook you had been read as a child. It shakes you to your core and makes you tremble something fierce.

You swallow hard.

This was it.

Childe's slacks drop neatly around his ankles, coming to rest over his loafers; and his cock springs forth. It was quite beautiful, you thought, admiring the proud curve. You marvel at the fact that he hadn't worn any boxers underneath such thin fabric, but of course, you knew this already.

With a sharp inhale, you straighten up. You hesitantly glide your tongue along the underside of his member, watching his expression shift and waver as you rise to your knees. And at last, after mustering all your confidence, all at once you wrap your mouth around his head.

His blue eyes rolled up towards the ceiling as your tongue went to work, dulled with lust. You kept a delicate watch on his everchanging expression, loving the sight of his pleasure distorting the lined features in the bright, atmospheric lighting. His hands find their way to your hair and twist within the soft (h/c) locks. "Fuck," He sighs out, propping himself up on one elbow. He guides your head up and down, allowing you to set the pace, and lets another soft hum escape his lips. "Where have you been hiding, huh?"

You smile up at him, deviance in your gaze, but never separating your mouth from his twitching cock. It was a lot to take in, but you held your breath and pushed on. Slowly but surely, the entirety of his length filled your throat, rubbing eagerly against your tonsils. He huffs, holding you there steadily. Your tongue moves with pressure in super slow motions, and with determination to impress, your fingers remain tightly clenched around your thumbs within your small fists.

"Archons..." He finally sighs, before letting your head go. His breathing is weighted.

To your surprise, you didn't gag. Taking this as a sign, you go for it again... and again... and... again, until Tartaglia is aggressively pounding your mouth into submission. You feel the ridge of his head fucking the back of your throat, your jaw slowly adapting to the use. His large hands hold your head in place, one tangled in your hair and the other pressing against the bulge of your throat as he thrusts, pulling out until the tip of his dick slides against the front of your tongue and back in, your cute nose pushing up against his toned stomach; It fills the air with gargled, lewd noises, leaving only the echoes of your taut cheek smacking on his pale skin. Tears well up in your eyes, smearing the mascara that donned your eyelashes so perfectly once before.

You're a total wreck.

Spit trails thickly down your neck, dripping off your skilled tongue like a small waterfall. Your soft, obedient hands play along your exposed nipple and under your hiked skirt, dancing along the sopping wet folds. When Tartaglia meets your gaze, his aura is hungry. It was everything about the sight of you playing so casually with yourself, his hard cock down your tight little throat, and his hands tangled in your mess of hair that he couldn't wait to pull as he fucked you from behind... His mind was whirling with the possibilities as it always had been when he was around you. It was so hard to control himself.

Slowly sliding out of your mouth, he looks down at the mess he's made you. "I haven't even touched you yet~"

You don't speak, dropping your face just below his member. You eagerly trace your tongue around his sack before engulfing them in your wet mouth. He chuckles again, exasperated as he runs his fingers through your hair. "Show me what you do when you think of me."

Tartaglia's voice is gentle as he speaks to you, like a siren song. It pulls a spark from your heart, and you comply eagerly. He uses his foot to kick your thighs further apart. It's obvious he enjoys the view.

Childe simply watches you make a complete mess of yourself. Whenever you'd lean forward to take him once more in your mouth, he'd yank your head back to look him in the eyes; The whole thing was just... so enticing... but... The man only teased himself as he watched you play. Those handsome features not daring to betray a single emotion amidst his unbridled curiosity.

He inhales, much more like a growl at the sound of your eager moans. As soon as his name left your mouth, it was over.

"Up and over," He mutters, scooping you up from beneath your trembling arms. The Harbinger bends you over the desk once more. One of your legs is lifted onto the surface, and the other unstably supports your heaving form. Childe spits in his hand and rubs it along his cock. You watch, full of lust and a bit of terror, almost praying that he'd be gentle.

Though, and you knew this well about yourself, you wished alongside your feeble hope that he would wreck you, breeding you senseless right here in his office. The idea of him remembering that every time he came to work... Well, that just about did it, huh?

"Ready?"

After a curt node, you feel the pressure of his cock against your entrance and wince. The man's free hand reaches around your lifted thigh, snaking around to help spread you. Slowly but surely, he enters, adding globs of spit as he does.

The fullness took you by surprise. Your raised leg immediately drops to the floor. All at once, you fall forward, nails digging into the wood. Tartaglia doesn't move while you adjust. He watches your reaction, taking an immense amount of fiery pride in making you act like this-- like a primal beast in heat. He knew better than to hurt you now, so he let his idle hands explore your beautiful body. Across your smooth belly, up to your heaving chest, toying with each hard nipple, and up to your shoulders. He traces his fingers along the curves of your arms, coaxing your hands back to his, and interlocks them against the small of your back.

"Deep breath~" He coos, letting his weight rest on your back. You arch into him, trying your best not to wince when his hips push even further into you. Back out, and back in... Childe sets a slow, steady pace. Soon, you adjust completely and let yourself enjoy him. You take every inch like a champ, no longer feeling the heated sting.

He whispers, "Are you my good girl, (Y/N)?"

You moan out a futile affirmation, mind melting all around him. Tartaglia smiles softly, letting his desire flicker just for a moment in his predatory eyes. He straightens up, using his feet to spread your legs across the desk once again, and slaps your behind hard.

He slides almost all the way out, snaking his hand to meet yours again up at the small of your back. He held you down easily with only one hand. "Damn right you are." A sinister grin creeps up onto his lips. "And what do good girls want?"

You whimper it out softly, "I want you to fuck me."

"I'm sorry, you want what?" He mocks you, grasping a handful of your hair from the nape once more. "Say it louder."

"Please," You yelp as he tugs you back. The tip of his cock was right— there— and you felt so empty without it. You ached almost and pleaded with him in your tone. "Please fuck me!"

And with that, he slams his hips against your bare ass on repeat. Over... and over... Your mind begins to melt. You had imagined it for so long and yet he was here... better than you could have ever thought. Tartaglia's massive cock filled you with an intense heat that bubbled up like a witch's cauldron. It stopped being a concern about what they could hear outside the door or the spilt wine glass that stained the elaborately designed rug on the floor. Time melded altogether and left you without wanting in his beautiful office. You came and came... and again, just shaking before him like a small dog.

Childe moves to adjust himself and lifts you into his arms. You face him, showing him the barefaced mess he'd made you. Makeup and tears stretched down your flushed cheeks, and behind them, a harsh red line on your left cheek and forehead from where your face had pressed so firmly against the solid oak wood.

He positions himself again and enters you, this time with absolute ease. You felt welcome in his strong arms, allowing yourself to lean back a bit and toy with yourself. It didn't take long for that tension to build up again. Every movement he makes fills the air with a lewd set of noises, and your fingers play wildly against your terminally sensitive clit. You stare longingly up at him, made obedient by his bombardment. His tip slams into your cervix like a fighters' uppercut and sent spasms up your entire spine.

"Please--I'm so-- close-- daddy, please~!" You let your voice ring out, feeling drool spill over your bottom lip and onto the top of your exposed breasts.

Childe tilts his chin. "Daddy? Is that what you want to call me?"

You struggle on your words. Every inch of you feels full and hot, like a firework show is about to start. You whimper out your beggings, pleading, praying to this godlike man before you, in-between each deep thrust. "Yes-- please--"

"Oh, yeah?" The man laughs, holding you close to his chest. His hands secure you firmly. You let your arms snake around his shoulders. Your glistening forehead finds its place against his own sweating skin, breaths intertwining in an intimate dance. His voice is husky as he speaks; "Say it to me again and I'll make you a mommy."

A spark shoots through you and you grin wildly back at him. "Then," you growl, kissing and biting along his neck and up to his ear. "Breed me, daddy."

Without a second thought, Childe slams you into the nearest sofa chair. You bounce on the soft cushion, hearing a muffled thunk! as it scoots back on the rug below, and he begins again. One hand folds around your small neck while the other pushes your legs back above your head. As if on display, your bottom half raises above your flustered face. He felt so deep in your stomach that even your moans felt choked.

He still resembled such a rabid animal. From the bloodthirsty smirk adorning his lips to his stance as a beast before you, you recognized the fear growing again in your chest. Your vision is blurry from the tears in your eyes.

He slaps your ass with his free hand, squeezing tightly into the flesh. His movements get more sporadic as he goes, his thrusts more violent and deep. "Fuck," Childe groans, arching his body foreword. He presses his forehead to the top of the chair. "Shit~ I'm gonna..."

As you move your now freed hands to his rippled, scarred up sides, you feel his cock twitching inside you, unloading his hot cum deep into your core. Your voice was hoarse from the heavy breathing and seemed to scratch along your whimpers. You swallow hard, holding the heaving man as close to your as possible. Tartaglia half smiles when your legs wrap around his waist to keep him in place. There was so much... he knew he couldn't move for fear of passing out, and this small fact made the harbinger chuckle against the fabric of the couch. He had been bested by a normal girl from Liyue and for this, you had his respect.

After a few minutes, he pulls himself out of you and stands back, almost wavering as he does. His seed dripped thickly from your sex, trailing down your ass to become a thick puddle on the ground. Childe marvels at you with something soft and sweet in his eyes. You flush.

"C-can I have a um—" you begin, stuttering over your timid words, and sit yourself up just a bit. You try to angle your ass off the couch to avoid making an even bigger mess, but a part of you wondered if it even mattered at this point.

"A towel? Yeah, of course." He walks confidently around the desk before opening one of the drawers. He pulls out two handkerchiefs and wanders back over to you, beginning the cleaning process. His hands are gentle as he moves the fabric around your bottom, tenderly cleaning up the mess he made. After he finishes, he sets the soiled one aside and swaps for the clean rag to wipe the tears and snot from your delicate face. "You're beautiful, Miss (Y/N). Do you know that?"

Childe's hand presses against your cheek, holding your gaze with his. "Stay with me. Just for a bit before you go? I'd be honored to have your company."

You sigh, your heart smiling while you refused to show it on your face. "Yeah, sure, that'd be nice."

When you try to stand, your legs almost immediately give way, trembling and buckling with every movement. You hadn't realized how sore they were. Childe notices, you pulls you into his arms for support, matching your slow hobbling speed. He walks you to the further part of the office where the couches and bookshelves presented an immaculate study area and sits down first. A hand extends out to you, of which you take gracefully, and rest onto his lap. 

He holds you against him, allowing you to lay on his sturdy chest. He was warm and comfortable. It was funny that you miraculously felt safe now. But for a while, you almost forget what had brought you here. 

For now, you would rest.

[lopsided-whiskey-grin]

Hey omg u said on the fic flashbang that you were taking promts n i was like omg… so heres my promot if you are into it!!!! Soap and ghost in a mission, ghost hears steps coming and stuffs both soap and himself in the nearest utility closet/locker he can see!! Easy safety… but uh-oh!! Theyre so close together!! If soap were to shift a little he might feel ghost’s cock on his ass even more… and the way ghost is breathing on his neck surely is!! something!! Will they make it out alive?!?!

anyways… thank you for flashbang it was very very good!! Have a nice day!!

this prompt weaseled itself into my tiny little brain and it would not fucking let go, so thanks for that lmaoooo I think I need a cold shower after writing this one holy shit ｡：ﾟﾟ(´∀｀)･｡ yes it escalated quickly, no i do not care enjoyyyyyy!

**********

Careful, Johnny

Word count: 1.4k

Tags:  frottage, pwp, top ghost +18 only

The mission had not been going well at all. If Soap was being totally honest, it had been fucked from the beginning. And now here he and Ghost were, hauling arse through an abandoned office building, out-manned and outgunned, quite literally. 

"I thought I told you to bring an extra clip?" Ghost hissed at him as they ran down a darkened hallway searching for cover. The heavy thud of boots echoed far too closely behind them for Soap's liking. 

"No, you said you were bringing an extra clip. I distinctly remember —"

Ghost huffed out a long-suffering sigh as he jogged alongside him. "For fuck's sake, Johnny." 

"Well, you fuckin' asked," Soap groused. They'd been on this mission for three days straight, trying to locate this particular office building and a particular USB drive hidden somewhere inside and Soap had had just about enough of Ghost.

They'd finally found what they came for about twenty minutes ago when they were set upon by a heavily armed group of mercs that didn't take kindly to having their personal property stolen. It had all gone downhill since then. 

"Where's the bloody exit in this damn place?" Ghost growled. 

Soap peered through the darkness, searching. Neither dared to use their torches lest they give away their location to the advancing enemy and it was damn near impossible to make out any kind of door anywhere. Fuck. 

They finally made it to the end of the corridor to see that it split into two directions. The hallways were identical. "Left or right?" Soap asked, trying to catch his breath. 

The footfalls behind them grew louder, ratcheting up Soap's anxiety. "Right," Ghost said. 

The whole building felt like a maze they'd never escape from and Soap was starting to worry they really wouldn't find a way out. He was so lost in his concern he almost didn't see Ghost pull to a stop and suddenly hook another right into a darkened office. Soap skidded to a stop and followed him. There was a tall cabinet at the back of the room that Ghost was opening when Soap caught up to him. 

"That doesn't look like the exit to me," Soap said. 

He could practically hear Ghost roll his eyes. "We'll hide in here until they pass us, then head back the way we came." 

Soap eyed the cabinet. It was deep enough for the couple brooms and a mop stored there, but not much else. "You're not serious. We are not going to fit in there, L.t." 

The men pursuing them were closer and would be on top of them any moment. "No time to argue, Sergeant." Ghost backed into the cabinet and grabbed Soap by his collar, tugging him in backwards with him. Soap lost his balance and slammed into Ghost's broad chest, but he managed to close the doors just as the loud thud of approaching boots passed by the office door.

Adrenaline pounded through Soap with each beat of his heart, making him feel high, giddy. 

"Holy shit, it worked," he whispered. It was a tight squeeze, but he still had about six inches of wiggle room in front of him.

Soap shifted a little, trying to get comfortable, then realized how perfectly the curve of his ass fit against Ghost's crotch. He immediately froze. Was that Ghost's sidearm digging into him? Or something else?

He moved just a hair's breadth, testing it out. 

Ghost's hands suddenly grabbed his hips, holding Soap still. "Careful, Johnny," he rasped behind him. 

Soap's cock throbbed in response. So it was something else. Soap suddenly found himself in an interesting predicament. He'd teased and flirted with Ghost before, but nothing had ever come of it… even though Soap wished it would. But because he couldn't penetrate the wall Ghost had built around himself, Soap had only fantasies and his own right hand to turn to. It wasn't enough though. He wanted to touch and taste and lay claim to everything Ghost had to offer. 

But this, this was — unexpected. Soap wasn't sure if he should chalk it up to the excitement of just being on the run for their lives, or if Ghost's apparent hard-on was due solely to Soap's ass pressing directly against his cock. 

He risked wriggling again, just a little. Ghost sucked in a sharp breath behind him and tightened his grip on Soap's hips. "Steady on, MacTavish," he warned. 

Soap smiled to himself. "Sorry, sir." 

Another group of men ran by the office door, rattling the broom next to Soap's right hand and he reached out to grab it before it could fall sideways and give away their location. He brushed against Ghost again and this time Soap could definitely feel the thick outline of Ghost's cock pressed to him. 

He swallowed, feeling his own trousers getting uncomfortably tight. "G-ghost?"

They were both breathing hard in the confined space and Johnny could feel the heat of it wash against the back of his neck. He suppressed a shiver. 

"Aw hell," Ghost's voice was rough and deep. 

The next thing Soap knew, Ghost was grinding up against him. Jesus fucking Christ. Soap couldn't help the surprised moan that fell from his lips. Ghost slapped a gloved hand over his mouth. 

"Are you trying to get us killed?" he hissed right against the soft shell of Soap's ear. 

Soap nearly passed out from the eroticism of it all. He managed to shake his head, but Ghost did not remove his hand. His heart was going a mile a minute. 

Ghost rolled his hips forward again and Soap sunk back against him, his head resting against Ghost's chest. He could feel the rapid thud of Ghost's pulse, beating just as hard as his was. 

Soap ground his ass back into Ghost's crotch, reveling in the breathless groan rumbling up from Ghost's chest. His cock, so fucking hard now in his cargos, released a spurt of precome. Fuck. He did it again and this time Ghost met it with a sharp forward thrust of his hips. 

Soap could hardly believe this was happening. God, he'd waited so long for this. Though it wasn't particularly under the best circumstances at the moment. He wasn't about to complain. Dragging in breath through flared nostrils, he rocked back against Ghost's cock once more. 

"I've heard you, you know," Ghost muttered, sliding his masked face against the side of Soap's cheek. He dropped his one hand holding Soap's hip and moved it to the hard bulge at the front of his trousers. Soap whimpered against Ghost's hand. "In the barracks. When you think everyone is asleep." He rubbed his hand up and down the straining length of him. "I've heard you say my name." 

Soap trembled under his touch. Ghost was going to drive him out of his ever loving mind. He rocked up against Ghost's hand, chasing the orgasm that was suddenly beginning to wash over him. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to focus on breathing, trying so very hard to be quiet. 

Ghost's breaths were coming in soft pants too now as he continued pumping his hips against Soap's ass. Soap brought one hand up to grip Ghost's forearm and the other down to cover Ghost's hand where he relentlessly rubbed against him. He couldn't believe he was about to come in his pants like a goddamn teenage boy. 

"Johnny," Ghost rasped his name in a broken whisper and Soap was done for. 

He came hard enough to see stars in that little closet and bit down on Ghost's palm unintentionally. Ghost came too, after a few more thrusts, holding Soap tightly back against him. 

After a moment, Ghost dropped his hand from Soap's mouth and Soap gulped in big lungfuls of air. He wanted to turn toward Ghost, to hold him, to pull that damned mask off and kiss him senseless, but there was no room. 

"What now?" he whispered, shifting uncomfortably with the wetness of his pants. 

Ghost was quiet, listening for the mercs that had chased them. Soap heard nothing. "Now we get the bloody hell out of here so I can find somewhere to fuck you properly." 

The rough timber of his voice plowed straight to Soap's core. "Aye, sir," he said with a grin, hand already pushing the closet door open. 

[nintendont2502]

thinking about davesprite. i blame you /lh but anyways. any hcs about him that you have Not been able to post because they just. weren't ever topical.

so many. so so so fucking many. i try to keep sdd relatively close to canon characterisation wise but,,,,, fuck i have ideas

this ones just a straight up headcanon thats barely tied to canon but gender apathetic/agender any pronouns davesprite,, big fan of this one in combination with t4t pepsisprite (dsprite is junes birdfriend)

this could be a whole rant to itself but i have. so many thoughts on davesprites relationship with bro and how fucked up it is. to make what could be a whole ass essay short and to just focus on one tiny fucked up aspect of it,,, davesprite associating pain and injury with his brother but in a 'positive' way, because him being hurt has always been associated with 'positive' memories of bro for him (bro training him 'because he cares', bro helping him stitch himself up after a particularly bad strife when he was too young to do it himself, getting his literal wing torn off while bro died protecting him,,, man).

semi related to above but he does exhibit some bird behaviours even if he refuses to admit it - the big one is pulling out his feathers when hes stressed (again, vaguely related to above - davesprite getting stressed about bro and pulling out too many feathers, and that pain simultaneously making things worse *and* calming him down)

my headcanons for a post game dsprite where he somehow makes it to the creation of the universe are either 'he makes it through and gets given a real body and the ability to age :))' or. well. hes a game construct right. hes just. hes an npc. hes meant to be part of the game. ...what if it doesnt let him leave. what if going through the door completely wipes his data and hes just. gone. what if hes forced to choose between being stuck in the session alone forever or disappearing from existence permanently. (this was actually the basis of a fic idea lmao)

as much as i love davesprite dream bubble content.... i dont think hed make it into the bubbles. hes not a person, right. fuck if the *guardians* dont make it then what chance does he have

i dont think he sleeps much.

[slaps davesprite] this sad boy can fit so many identity crises into him

how does he know hes himself. like. how does he know hes not just code programmed to think hes dave and act like dave. sure hes clinging to that old identity that he isnt allowed to have anymore, but what if that was never him? who is he, then?

jesus christ these got depressing

bird mating rituals,, he gives john cool rocks and shiny things and gets really flustered about it because 'holy shit im being so obvious' and johns just like 'haha cool! :B'

he gives davesprite like. a shiny bit of plastic one day as a joke and davesprite gets way too happy about it.

dave and davesprite brothers is so fucking real. to me.

less a headcanon, more a thought i cant get out of my head. davesprite literally keeping his sword in his chest is. fuck man. thats something. the only way he can use it is by taking it out which has gotta fucking hurt,,,, violence and fighting hurting himself just as much as it hurts everyone else

i like drawing post battleship dsprite with the missing wing and stomach hole still because im gonna be so real i dont think sburb would heal that. who cares right. it isnt threatening him at all - sure it hurts a lil but he could get used to it, and it isnt impacting his role, and like. hes just a sprite. who cares

^^ and if it *can* be healed, i still dont think it would by then. look man im just a sucker for emotional and mental healing being represented physically,,, the only time they heal is when he finally gives himself a break and lets himself rest and lower his guard and heal emotionally

again this isnt really a headcanon it just haunts me. davesprite is/was a knight of time right. both serving (and sacrificing for) time and using time as a weapon. thinking about how weapons can both protect and injure, or even kill. thinking about how davesprite probably feels responsible for all those deaths in the doomed timeline. thinking about how he essentially killed himself by travelling back. thinking about how he did it to protect.

...davesprite thinking about what would happen if dave died permanently. hed never do anything. hed never let that happen. but... the timeline needs a dave, right. and davesprite would still be there. hed never do anything to make it happen. but what if that was his chance.

i love the idea that dsprite acts more like dirk and hal acts more like dave (mirroring their text colours). i just think its fun

yall ever think about how the shades john gave dave were so important that when he was literally recreated, the universe still gave them to him? he wasnt wearing then when he was prototyped. because i do. i think about it all the time.

new pesterchum handle. turnedtechGodhead is the only one ive thought of atm but im gonna make more i stg (vaguely related: hals pesterchum is turingTested. that is all)

i swear to god theres more rattling around in there but i cant reach it and this is logn enough so :thumbsup:

[makeste]

Just out of pure curiosity, isn't this a horrible way to experience the story lmao?

I'm not saying it's for everyone, but it's worked for me personally so far. more than I would have expected, tbh!

honestly though, this might sound kind of backwards, but a big part of my decision to read these chapters early had more to do with me NOT wanting to be spoiled. let me explain.

I went on hiatus from the BnHA manga beginning in January 2022. I remained completely spoiler-free for almost eight whole months without the slightest issue. then August happened. :')

the thing is, despite my taking a break from the manga, I didn't stop reading fanfiction. in fact I probably read more fic than I usually do, because I missed the series and the characters. it may sound odd that I had the time to read fic but couldn't use that same time to catch up with the manga instead, but they're very different things as far as mental load and time commitment. one is very passive, almost relaxed, while the other requires me to be quick-witted and mentally engaged (at least if I want to do a halfway decent job). something which I wasn't really capable of being at the time. so yeah.

anyway so at the time I generally thought of fanfic as a relatively safe activity, spoiler-wise. and to be fair it was. right up until the single most popular character in the series fucking DIED in the most grisly way possible while fighting the main villain, right in the middle of everyone's fucking summer break. after which pretty much the entirety of fandom erupted into "BAKUGOU DIED??!" and "HE DIED THINKING ABOUT IZUKU??!" and "BABY BOY WANTED ALL MIGHT TO SIGN HIS TRADING CARD?!?!" and "RAIN!?!?" etc. etc. pretty much 24/7 on all social platforms for weeks on end.

so what I learned from that experience is that no matter how good you are at dodging spoilers, it is literally impossible to do so when something THAT momentous and life-altering happens your favorite character who also happens to be fandom's most beloved blorbo. hell, I didn't even get spoiled on AO3 initially; they got me over on YouTube of all places. literally nothing I could do to prevent it. and after that, no matter how meticulously I avoided all of the fics tagged with "362: Light Fades to Rain spoilers", I still kept getting caught off guard because people would casually drop spoilers into untagged fics as well. so I had a bunch of additional little details spoiled for me unexpectedly and I was pretty much defenseless against it. pretty much the only way I could have avoided it all would have been to stop reading Kacchan whump entirely. which, idk about you, but to me that would have been a far more horrible fate. :p

anyway so fast forward to last month, and Kacchan finally came back, and you bet your ass I spoiled myself for it immediately. because I knew it would still take me forever to get caught up The Right Way, and in the meantime I would once again be leaving myself at the mercy of the internet. at least this way I have control over where and when and how I find out. and I got to experience the moment via the manga itself, rather than a third party. and I have to say, this way was vastly preferable to the alternative.

and at the end of the day that's pretty much the same rationale I had for giving in and reading 404 - 406 as well. I knew that once Kacchan was back, the pace of the Final Battle was going to start picking up, and things were going to start happening, and I'd rather read all of those things for myself! like just for example, there's close to a 100% chance the "Kacchan" line from this week would have been spoiled for me in someone's fic if I hadn't read 406 beforehand. just little things like that. anyway so this way, no matter what happens to Kacchan and Deku from this point forward, I'll get to read it fresh and experience it in a way that I unfortunately never got to with the chapter 362 moment. and so to me, that's more than worth the trade-off.

[rumbleonthemill]

bit of a retrospective.

the HN community was great, I absolutely loved searching for artworks and fics in 2018-2019 I have over 4K artworks saved. I digged up the deepest archives for some good art. I have a ship archive. the HN tag here is over 150 pages...if someone, then I love fanart. I love headcanons, au's.. back then the fandom was crazy accepting, it was such a positive feeling, it felt so good to be here.

--

2020 December was the downfall. this whole fucking ass lie someone made up, all because some immature fucking ass cunts disliked a ship. it lasts to this day and I'm so fucking tired. exhausted. I'm exhausted from the "I ship something else, so I'm dehumanizing you and making up lies to make you look like a serial killer because i can't find the block button" this is now in every fandom and it's disgusting.

the ship? the art? didn't hurt a fly.

haters? they hurt everyone.

there's a post, there's a video about the origins of the hilariously average ship, I'm repeating myself like a parrot and I hate it because normal people UNDERSTAND what's the deal - you cannot change the past and you cannot change a ship's impact on the fandom, even if you make up the biggest lies. ever since then I saw that the haters have much more skeletons in the closet, than I ever did.

I cannot do anything with people who blindly fall for lies about a stranger on the internet, and trust other strangers on the internet. immature and pathetic.

--

2021 - the canon began falling from grace as well. same shit again, a million storylines, to this day the HN community itself doesn't know, which canon event belongs to which storyline.

the cartoon was the final nail. It lured so many…it lured.

it is officially unsafe to search for HN, I left multiple sites because the moderation doesn't give a fuck about literal actual creeps. multiple people aren't enough anymore to report things. and ofc the sjw bitches are nowhere when the community should keep together and remove REAL problems.

and the stalkers. and those who are envious. the two-faced lying bitches. those who literally want to own people. the fake friends, who just want you as trophy on their fucking shelf and want free art. those who accuse you for being narcissistic, while they're the ones with huge issues, and ofc everyone's the victim except the harassed person. oh man, if this was a bingo, everything would be checked. I'm tired.

--

the worst thing is, people begin to turn away from you, because other people ruined you and you're ruined. you can't function like before. things trigger you. you know that xy people leaked-backstabbed-wished your death yet play nice in front of public...list goes on.

if I hate someone - there's a real reason.

I'm past several breakdowns, multiple hospital visits and things I'm not even putting into this post. all because people can't find the block button and they purposely worsen people's mental state. (my health is dogshit tho) because people cannot understand that others escape online from irl problems, to fandoms, to have a little rest. rest.

fandoms are supposed to be your mental safe place. sharing art, ideas, being silly.

--

fandoms are about ✨ being crazy. about having fun✨ if you want to tell people what they're allowed and not allowed to do, go to politics . become a dictator idk.

--

I don't give the slightest fuck anymore if people on the other end of the internet think that I'm a [insert current problem]. it means that they're chronically online and they're into harassment.

all I ever wanted is to share my art and stories. not more.

I don't give a fuck about others and their views. block button. and if I blocked xy - they better stay away.

--

now to close the post on positive tone.

I know circa FIVE people from the old HN community, who I've been seeing ever since 2018 and before. a few newcomers who want to enjoy fandoms because they're fans and they want to have FUN. those who know, what the ships are about. those who just stick around and are chill.

You get my biggest respect. seriously. these people are still consuming fanart. they're consuming fics, they're tired of the endlessly changing canon, they love the og HN. they know how to have fun and know they can easily filter disliked things. haters didn't scare them away somehow. these cca five people...they're the real fans.

and I also appreciate everyone, who leaves 100+ notes in my inbox, liking ship art in secret. thank you.

[queenofthyme]

Okay this is kinda funny to me but I actually just finished binging your fic (did a descendants marathon, started mid D3, got genuinely interested in RoR, read the rest with bleary eyes and bated breath into what is now 4 am) and. I. I kid you not I was internally lamenting the lack of spicy scenes because you wrote the teasing incredibly well and. Well. I wasn't going to say anything bc ppl are completely within their right to not write something BUT then I saw your post and now that I know(1/?

(cont) and now that I know that not only is it maybe an option but that you'd be willing to write it let me just say. On my knees pleading. I was craving some MalxEviexUma content and you wrote it *so incredibly well* and it was such a delight to read. I appreciate you taking the cheating seriously and I really like how you handled the variety of queer revelations happening in this fic. Genuinely it is because of authors who write characters so well like this that I feel less isolated in my experiences

(cont) especially since things revolving around my identity and sexuality have been pretty present the past few months, and it's almost relieving and somewhat cathartic to get to read characters experiencing similar situations and getting to be accepted and also get together with their beloveds. And also have gay (dragon/tentacle/) sex lol. I like how you took your time with each of the characters to make their conclusions feel natural and anything but rushed, and I really love what a good grasp (3/?

(cont) you have of their voices. I could hear each of them (especially Uma) distinctly in my head the whole time, and could visualize their faces and movements so well because of how you wrote them. Character voices are hard, so many kudos to you!!! You really did a good job staying true to them! Also, somewhat but also not surprisingly, I was not having an easy time finding content for the three of them (or even a few of them) and sometimes when you're low on fics the ones you find aren't the most polished, but yk you take what you find or you make it yourself! But!!! That is not the case here! You wrote a beautiful and enjoyable and fucking sexy fic that exactly hit the spot for me and was a thrill all the way through. You do not know how many times I had to keep myself from jumping ahead or reading to fast to enjoy it because I was so excited. Also the only reason I'm not commenting is bc I don't have an ao3 account set up for this blog yet so I'm bothering you in asks instead!

I would like to be very detailed in my appreciation of how you wrote each character but I seriously need to sleep and I'm probably taking up to much space, so let me know if I can come back and rant to you about your fic in your ask box or if you would prefer me waiting till I can comment on the fic itself :3Thank you SO SO SO SO MUCH for writing such a scrumptious fanfic and for sharing it with the rest of us! /Grins/ Have a delightful rest of your week!

(final. Sorry it got split up! Tumblr was being an ass and giving me a word limit so I switched for Easter so I didn't have to verify w every ask and it fuckin dropped both problems lmao)

This is how you leave a comment, folks. If it's not 4 asks in my inbox when I wake up I don't want it.*

People like @gayafsowhat who leave comments and asks like this are the backbone of the fanfic community. These asks have sat in my inbox for a like a week because there's literally no way to adequately express my gratitude so I'll just say simply: thank you. ❤️

Also authors, if you are hesitating about writing for a smaller fandom or rare pair, fucking do it. Yes, I get more kudos on my drarry fics, but the enthusiasm and support you get from people when you write for pairings with less content is equally fulfilling (if not more - see giant comment above holy shit!??!?).

*This is obviously a joke. For the record, I gratefully accept and apppreciate comments in any format. ❤️

[jichanxo]

re:titles> and i'm surprised how people name their projects after they are done! for me, it's easier to centre a story around one or several words, and harder to fit a whole-ass completed story into a really short description. how does it work for you then? (and good luck with senseific's title, i know you can do it)

this got long. uh.

that makes sense in a way, having it picked out early is just picking out your point of focus so that whatever you write matches what you’re trying to convey (at least that’s how I’m understanding you?) I suppose the inverse, deciding late, is more like going with the flow and seeing what surfaces as the most important theme/imagery/whatever… though I can definitely understand it being difficult to pick out what’s the most important part when you’ve written a lot. I guess in the end it’s about decisiveness? or at the very least picking something that Does The Job. Not all of them can be winners after all.

in cases where the fic title is the same as phrasing within the text (3:21am, Passing Grade, Memorisation Game), it feels more natural to see what words come naturally through writing as opposed to deciding beforehand. It’s certainly a bit literal but it captures what I think are the defining features of those fics.

“3:21am” is from the setting, which is incidental really, but it sets the scene well enough.

“Passing Grade” refers to the Kitakata sensei au (so school themed) and is also a direct quote from Yagami’s flirting in that fic.

“Memorisation Game” is a reference to the emotional core of that fic – Yagami missing Kuwana, rationalising his attempt to call his number as a game so not to feel so pathetic about it.

For reference, my document titles for these fics are: “yagami late 3am.docx” (referring to the pov and the setting), “kuwagami sensei eating.docx” (referring to the au and the main thing I use to get them to interact for that fic), and “kuwagami card fic.docx” (the initial idea being about yagami keeping kuwana’s business card). It’s a little funny how blunt they are, but it makes it easy to understand at a glance what everything is.

I guess the commonality here is that you can see what my starting idea is from the document titles, but by looking at the title of the posted fics, you can see where my writing ended up in terms of emotions or themes. “card fic” is the idea I started with, the instrument to get the ball rolling, but by the end of the writing, the final, most clear idea within that fic was memorisation game. I had some idea it was going to end in that direction, but I didn’t have those exact words until I wrote them out.

It’s probably a similar process for my other titles, and not just the literal ones, now that I think about it.

“kuwagami deep wound.docx” refers to the imagery I was trying to use in that fic which became → Wound Pried Open, which is… similar, but the “pried open” part I think calls attention to the idea of Kuwana doing it, of it being on purpose, not just the wound itself but the process of agitating it intentionally, which is… more important than just a reference to the wound on its own. I started that fic thinking “man the kuwagami stuff I make is so clean, I should write something more grimy” and ended it with… well… wounds as a vehicle to explore this idea of painful intimacy.

So I suppose what I’m saying is that deciding later leaves room for me to find the core of the story naturally after starting from my initial idea.