#this was rushed I’m so sorry

[batsvnte]

𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚 — 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞

pairing! Blade ;; black gn!reader (They/them) ఌ angst, strained relationship, soulmate au (kinda) ఌ cw! spelling mistakes/improper grammar, ooc maybe, blood + violence mentions, possessive behavior, canon divergence, Blade having murderous thoughts ఌ synopsis! With fate bringing you two apart, destiny always has a way to bring you two back together

A karmic debt was known for repaying all the bad deeds you’ve done in your past. Whatever hell you’ve been put through in your previous life was catching up to quickly for you to keep yourself at bay. For every year that you’ve lived, the debt would become lighter and lighter. That’s what your first thought when the good things were showing up subtly aside from the hints of the sharp pains that would hit at random moments. The debt would take a toll on your physical well being during the early years of your life and even now. It wasn’t enough to classify that you were ‘dying’ but it wasn’t enough to let you off the hook from the feelings of someone’s sharp blade tearing into your skin. Twisting into an agonizing way that made it that the holder would want to see you suffer. Psychogenic pain is what you learned from an local healer/doctor.

You weren’t aware of the man who has been hunting you down the moment your name was brought up out of the blue.

Blade feels the mara stirring up within his body as he catches glimpse of you in an distance. Your weary eyes darting around the slowly emptied rush in an sense of worry. You knew something was off the moment you stepped into this certain place. Your comrades would try to ease your worries with reassuring words and gestures of safety. But nothing helped with your growing fear. There was an gnawing feeling of you being watched by someone but no matter where you look, it would disappear elsewhere.

He remained hidden within the shadows. Images that were blurry kept appearing anytime he turned his gaze over to you. He ignored the thoughts of approaching you and straight up snatching you from your comrades. Letting them watch helplessly as he took you away to a place where no one could help you. He wanted to watch your blood mix in with his in an eternal state that will keep you two together once more.

And just by seeing each other in the flesh was making the pain worse for you. The sword materializing in your hand within quick seconds to parry his attacks with your comrades being caught off guard at the scene at hand. A moment of the smallest slip up would lead to Blade plunging his sword directly into you to snuff away your life within seconds. No matter how your allies would attempt direct his attention away, he could only brush them off without sparing a glance as his eyes were focused on you and you only.

This was just the beginning of the chase. The debt that was supposedly becoming lighter felt like it was a bunch of heavy bags crushing you. Every encounter with Blade would only lead to the pain becoming worse. At random moments when you’re sitting either by yourself or being with friends would turn into moments of silent pain. The feeling of a sword stabbing into your chest for brief moments before the pain disappeared. Sometimes it would last for a few seconds, and times it would last for hours. Rarely even days.

The good things being just a vague memory for you. With no one to help you recollect the memories of your past life, you were left with no questions to answer about Blade. He would find ways to know exactly where you were. Even if you weren’t apart of the script this time, he might as well take his time to get rid of those who have dared laid their eyes upon you. You’d only come back to an bloodied mess of the one who you were helping out. The mangled body of the one innocent soul laying whilst Blade watches you silently. The both of you knew that soon enough you’ll be coming back to your comrades bodies dead and gone. It’ll be a matter of time when you finally belong to him.

[liorlen]

gale origin playthru from astarion’s pov or smth like that

[6gumi]

no second thoughts.

synopsis ﹒if your big brother doesn’t care enough about you . . then why not bang his friend to make him care ! ?

pairings ﹒ step brother!alhaitham x fem!reader x big brother’s best friend!kaveh (modern au me thinks)

cw ﹒suggestive (a little long n rushed). TW: stepcest ! read at your own risk. not proofread (so sorry if it doesn’t make sense on some parts oopsies) this is all consensual. meanie ! al haitham aaa, t!tplay, use of petnames (princess, baby, etc) al haitham is a meanie lowk, al haitham is a lil rough w u :((, a lil degrading, dirty talk !

note ﹒aaa aaa AAAA thinkin’ sm.. thinkin’ sm.. the demons won me over once again fellas . . i’ve lost another battle sighsssss . . i had 2 rewrite sm times cuz i didn’t like how it went n all that aaa ALSO ! i made the texts smaller cuz this is soooo long 🥹 + i’m lowk proud of how this one turned out so reblogs appreciated ! requests are still closed so i will only accept thirsts if u wanna send in some, or u can just interact w me ! — millie ♡

you’ve tried all methods to get al haitham to notice you at-least . . why didn’t any of those methods work anyways ?! you both agreed to have this . . secret relationship with each other, and do very “secret” things no one could no about, at least that’s what he said. you knew it was wrong, he might’ve too.. but you both really couldn’t control your undying lust for each other like this, especially if you both lived in the same house and saw each other everyday. this was wrong, it was . . but you two weren’t blood related so it’s fine, he says. but still, it still felt wrong whenever al haitham was bullying his huge cock into your cunt, whispering that you could take him just fine. in other words, your relationship with al haitham is a hassle to understand and comprehend. it felt wrong but . . you both never delved into it too much. he was being so nice and sweet to you a few weeks ago, what happened to that? why was he suddenly being so cold?

you didn’t understand it at all, you just wanted to be close with him. could he . . . have been all nice with you just to make you dependent on him? you didn’t know.

poor poor you . . you need his attention nearly half of the time! you craved it even! you began to debate about what he said, sure yeah . . you were his precious little sister and he wouldn’t dare let anyone else touch you. you can’t help it, you just need his attention . . but how come he’s always treating you this way? why was he treating you like someone lower than he is? it’s not fair.. it wasn’t fair. you tried your hardest to get his attention these past few days and weeks, walking around the house with only his shirt clinging onto your figure with none of your undergarments present.. your nipples poking out of your shirt while you hummed and walked around, bare underneath for al haitham to see. you only wanted him to notice you, you wanted him to give you the attention you needed. you’d even let him fuck you raw on the kitchen counter if that’s what he wanted! but yet, none of those methods have worked on him . . .

you were in your room, sobbing against the softness of your pillow as your lips were formed in a small pout . . you hated being ignored, especially if it’s by al haitham. you laid there with cheek pressed up against the pillow, one leg over your blanket. the only thing that could be heard from your room are faint sobs and cries, tears pouring down your cheeks.

then, you heard your door creak open.

glancing over your shoulder, your eyes widened before sitting up properly, wiping your sweet tears off your face. “al haitham!” you spoke, grinning as he made his way over to you. “what’s up with you?” he says, his voice was nonchalant as always. “i could hear you all the way from my room.” you could feel your smile fading from his coldness towards you. ah, he’s still the same. you wiped your tears before crawling closer to him, clinging onto his arm as you rested on his bicep. ‘i just want your attention’ is what you wanted to say, but no.. you couldn’t. you would never admit that to him no matter how much you wanted to. you tugged on his arm with a little hum, looking up at him. “i . . it’s nothing, really. i’m alright.”

he hummed, glancing down at you before cocking a brow . . his expression still blank as he opened his mouth to speak, words that you never expected to hear. but wanted to. “wanna fuck?”

you sniffled, wiping your tears one last time before you stared at him, blinking at his words. “. . huh?”

“i said, wanna fuck?” he spoke again. “maybe that’ll make you feel better, yeah? c’mere baby.”

—

and there you were, face planted down against the pillow you were crying on earlier before . . loud sounds of skin slapping against each other was one of the only things you could hear, his balls slapped against your ass as his large hands had such a death grip on your hips, he was rough . . you had to admit. but yet, you kept thinking to yourself . . you wanted comfort, you needed al haitham’s comfort. you didn’t need this but you accepted anyway. choked moans were left muffled as your head was further pushed down against the bed, al haitham’s thrusts grew more rougher and deeper as the minutes passed . . it was clear to you that he had no intention of comforting you at all. no . . he was only using you for pleasure at this rate. “mmh . . you like this, huh? you like when your brother fucks you hard to relieve your stress, isn’t that right?” he whispered in your ear, inhaling the scent of your hair as his other hand reached down to rub your clit in a circular motion, licking his lips as he down on the blade of your shoulder. “fuck . . you’re such a sweet girl, are you? taking your brother’s cock like it’s nothing. taking it like the good slut you are.” he flipped your body over to face him, grabbing your knees as he forcefully pressed them down against your chest, squishing your breasts as your eyes rolled back to the back of your head, tongue lolling out in pleasure while his thrusts quickened, you were sure he was gonna break you at this rate. “naughty girl . . look at you, letting your brother fuck you as he pleases.”

this new position allowed al haitham to access more of your deepest areas, areas you never knew could even be explored by his cock! you whined as you felt his hands on your cheeks, pressing them together. “tell me, why were you crying earlier?” he brought his hand down from your face, pressing them down against the bulge on your stomach as he could feel himself going in and out of your slick pussy. “i-i just..” you whimpered, trying to ignore how good his cock felt pounding into you like that. swallowing the lump in your throat, you finally spoke up once again. “you.. ah— you’re being so cold to me lately, al haitham . . it’s making mmh! me think otherwise of our relationship, i don’t wanna . . keep going on like this with you if you’re hah!— gonna treat me like i’m nothing to you” you admit. you were half expecting him to kiss you and pamper you all over, but that all changed when you could feel his thrusts quickie even more. god.. you had to admit, his stamina was insane. “so you want me to act differently towards you? is that what you’re implying?”

“mmn.. if it means you stop being so cold to me, then yes . . that’s exactly what i’m asking fo— ah!” he pinched your nipples, shutting you up completely . . all that left his mouth were low chuckles. “i’m not being cold to you, i’m just acting like my usual self. if you expected me to kiss you, spoil you and pamper you whenever and wherever you please, you’re simply mistaken.” he gave your ass a light slap at that, before you cut him off. “but— hah! it’s not fair, al haitham . . why are you treating me like i’m nothing? i don’t get how you can just— hng . . fuck me and act like you don’t know me the day afterwards!” you could feel the tension in the air, and in his thrusts as he flipped you over again, immediately shoving his cock back in your pussy with a loud slap. “and i don’t get how you can’t shut the fuck up.” he grabbed a fistful of your hair, threading his fingers through your locks as he pulled you towards his chest as his cock proceeded to ram itself into you roughly, sweat trailing down your body while putting a hand over your mouth. “maybe i could shut you up if i breed this little pussy to the brim, huh? do you want me to do that? fill you up with my cum?” your eyes widened, as much as you loved your brother . . you didn’t want him doing anything as far as breeding you and filling you up, let alone . . getting you pregnant. “do i have to fuck my cum into you to get you to shut up? make you stop questioning my methods of caring for you?” he didn’t care about you like you cared about him. you knew that. so why was he even . .

his thrusts were starting to be more rougher and harsh now, but not enough to hurt you. “don’t you love your big brother, [name]? you love him right? why are you questioning his way of showing he cares for you, huh?” he whispered in your ear. your back arched at his words, you could almost feel just how tight your cunt was sucking him in at this rate. “you don’t want me to leave you don’t you? leave you in the streets with nothing but a pretty pussy for anyone to fuck, you don’t want anyone else’s dick in this slutty cunt now, do you?”

that’s the thing. you didn’t want him to leave you.

you shook your head furiously at the thought of him coming inside of you and leaving you in the streets for another person to take, you tried to tell him you didn’t want that but his hand only tightened around your mouth. “good, then don’t bother questioning about any of my acts of care for you. you know i love you, so just be a good girl and take my cock whenever and wherever i want, yeah? be a good little slut and don’t question your brother’s can you do that for me?” he was only saying that to put you over the edge and cling onto him more . . but did you realize that? not really. you sobbed as you nodded, trying to endure the soreness of your back and lower half when he released your hair, pulling out of your drenched pussy as he came all over your ass, stroking cock at an awfully fast pace . . your face scrunched as you could even feel some of his essence leaking from your ass and down to your bedsheets you cleaned earlier. “there, feel better now?” he asked. ‘no, i don’t.’ was what you wanted to say, but you held your tongue . . you were too exhausted to protest anyways.

—

your body was sore, you needed al haitham’s comfort and his attention . . but he was oblivious and never gave you what you truly wanted, you were getting tired of how his automatic response to comforting you is by fucking you into oblivion, you cursed at yourself for liking it . . you cursed yourself for even enjoying the way his cock pushes itself deep inside your velvet walls, you hated how you hated it, his methods to be exact. he was comforting you right? that’s what he told you, he was only making you feel better and this is his only way of comforting you, right? no. you knew this was another one of his tactics, and you always hated these tactics . . no matter how much you wanted to snap at him for disregarding your feelings and you as a whole, you couldn’t. he always found ways convincing you what he was doing was right when it wasn’t.

it has been awhile since that last session you both had, and yet again . . he began to ignore you once more. you knew it was coming but it infuriates you how much he doesn’t care about you as much as you care about him. so . . you tried something. when al haitham left the house one day, you managed to invite his friend, kaveh over. kaveh himself surprisingly knew of al haitham’s way of thinking since he was friends with him long before he met you, so it only made sense that he gave you advice and asked you if his behaviour improved. you were sitting on your bed, sniffling as kaveh had a hand on your shoulder. the blonde was much more nicer and gentler with you than al haitham was, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief whenever al haitham himself brought kaveh over after hanging out with him. you felt more comfortable and safe with your big brother’s best friend more than you could ever imagine. “you okay now, princess? i’m sorry he’s acting this way towards you but it’s just how he is, you can’t just magically stop someone from acting how they usually act, you get me?” his soft voice.. his reassurance. kaveh was your own personal safe haven.

as safe as you felt with kaveh, kaveh never knew or even found out about your dirty little secret and relationship you had with al haitham, not like you wanted him to know. the blonde only thought of this as friendly sibling feud, al haitham being nonchalant towards his doting little sister while you’re over here trying to get him to treat you properly as his sibling by asking his friend for some advice! oh . . he could have never been so wrong, it was more than that. but yet .. who knows if he ever found out one day? will he . . leave you? you knew it was wrong to even act like this towards your own step brother, but you two weren’t blood related so . . maybe he would be a bit weirded out but— no! you couldn’t bare to have kaveh leave you, not when he’s your only source of comfort. you wouldn’t dare to even tell him anything about you and al haitham’s dirty relationship with each other . . you wouldn’t dare.

“maybe we can try a different method . . ? i don’t know.” you mumbled, leaning closer against him. kaveh could feel himself scoot a little to give you more space and to prevent himself from getting too into your personal space. “maybe we could . . do it?” you suggested, earning a choked cough from the blonde. “i— what? are you implying what i think you are?” he wasn’t sure if he heard you correctly . . but he thought about it. it’s risky, yes . . but will it really work? sure, he thought you were sweet and only viewed you as his friends little sister but. . was this really right? “yeah . . i’m suggesting that we should do it.”

“princess are you sure? you don’t have to force yourself to do it just because you want him to notice you, it’s risky . .” kaveh whispered that last line under his breath, patting your shoulder. “he’s definitely gonna kill us, angel. are you really really sure you wanna risk it just to get his dumb head going?” without warning, you caught your lips with his as you put a hand on his thigh, lifting yourself up gently as you kissed him with passion. well . . that answered his question pretty quickly. you wanted this alright, and you were showing him exactly how much you wanted it. in a blink of an eye, you were pinned down against the soft sheets of your bed, kaveh’s hands slowly trailed up your flesh. the architect gazed up at you with those pretty eyes of his, pretty eyes you wanted to be on you forever. “you’re positive right, gorgeous? you want me to touch you? no second thoughts?” “no second thoughts.”

that was kaveh’s green light.

a kind smile spread across kaveh’s face at your green light. it seemed you really were an impatient girl. "you’re a naughty girl, aren’t you gorgeous? my little naughty girl." the blonde male chuckled before he leaned and kissed your neck slowly and sensually, slipping his hands inside your shirt as he cupped your tits while pulling at your nipple, your body needed this contact . . your body needed someone to touch it and kaveh will gladly be that person to fulfill its wishes. “naughty naughty girl you are, mhm?” he coos as his lips gently traced your skin, leaving a trail of tingles on your neck. “mhm.. get on with it already kaveh, ‘want you to fuck me now.” a chuckle rumbled in his chest with satisfaction, knowing he had won. "and who am i to deny this princess’ request?" you could almost sense the lust in his voice, his tone still full of seduction almost as the hand he had on your cheek gently slid down towards your neck, slowly rubbing it as his lips moved downwards, lifting up your shirt. kaveh was skilled with his mouth, you knew that. your body jolted as you could feel his mouth attach itself onto your long neglected nipple, placing soft kisses on the spot his hand was, sending shivers down your spine. kaveh’s tongue worked wonders on your nipples, his other two fingers tugging and rubbing at the other.

your breath hitched feeling the tips of kaveh’s fingers running along your plushy thighs, lifting your skirt up all the way to your stomach, pushing your underwear aside as he rubbed the slit of your pussy with two fingers, feeling your wetness on his fingers. “you’re awfully wet. you really do get all riled up way too quick, princess.” his eyes couldn’t help but wander seeing how hard your nipples gotten from his sucking and fondling. his mouth caged around your hardened nipple once more, forcing an angelic whine to leave your pretty lips. he loved the noises you made, especially if he was the one making you feel good. the blonde architect kept this up, suckling on your tits like there’s no tomorrow while his other hand toyed with the other breast. he hummed softly before letting his slender digits enter your pretty pussy, adding another finger almost immediately afterwards. “you want me to fuck you just as good as anyone else has, gorgeous?” he rubbed your fingers in a circular motion. he knew you were at his mercy, and he loved every second of it . . your moans, you little whines, your jolts and slight flinches to his touch, he loved them too.

although . .

i don’t think the person peeking through the gap of the door would think otherwise anyway.

[childdevourer1]

And these lines aren't wrinkles, dear heart

They're just dollops of paint on a new work of art

Happy 13 years! 🌪🎉

[polys-kirby-ocs]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PRECIOUSSS

[riaki]

an excuse to touch | suguru geto x reader

pt.2 of christmas event! cw: reader is kinda drunk, u and him have a bunkbed but he always sleeps w u on the lower bunk :3

not proofread

"su— guru!"

he knows that pitchy voice; a lilt to it that tells him you've been drinking. a slur that links your breathy words together like the taut strings of a spider's web that's so imperceptible that it would've been impossible to pick up, unless you were him. because suguru knows you better than anyone else.

you say his name weird, which means you've indulged on the bottle of liquor your next-door neighbor brought you that morning, wrapped in a pretty festive ribbon with a snowman drawn into the cork. "my son drew it," your neighbor had explained, and suguru wonders how good of a parent he is, to be letting his 6 year-old doodle on a bottle of wine.

he doesn't have time to concern himself with other people's lives, however. he has his hands full making sure you don't topple into the christmas tree you'd both worked your asses off to decorate last weekend when you stumble into the living room like you're walking on two left feet, threatening to trip over the cord connecting the soft yellow lights to the outlet in the wall. he distinctly remembers the argument you had last night— you thought rainbow lights would look nicer on the tree, but he liked just yellow. in the end, he'd gotten what he wanted— but there wasn't much to gain when you had stolen his sweater and refused to give it back as a vengeance. and now, he couldn't find it.

"right here," he calls, looking up at you from where he's seated on the couch in your living room. the little tv screen plastered to the wall has a fake fire playing over the screen; he knows you love the immersion, even if your apartment complex doesn't have a fireplace or a chimney.

you make your way over to his chair and promptly fall into his already-waiting arms. he pulls you flush to his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin and letting you snuggle up to him in his lap. his callused hand immediately snakes up your back to slip beneath your shirt, massaging your back. his embrace is warm; soft. and he smells good, like pine needles and something gently sweet, a little smoky.

soon, your hands find his hair, winding a trail up his neck to thread into the dark strands and pull out the tie. before you can move any further, though, a hand darts out to catch your wrist, and the other moves to tilt your chin up and force you to meet his stern gaze, warm like amber resin on the tree bark.

"[name], where's my sweater?" he asks, raising an accusatory eyebrow. just like that, you shrink away, and he smothers the snicker of amusement that threatens to spill out like hot cocoa with a hand over his lips.

you blink, and he watches your eyelashes flutter. they catch the fake firelight, glowing like billowing reeds under a bright sun in lakewater that reflects the summer sky. "i dunno." a blatant lie; obviously, you do know, because a bit of the red string has tangled in your hair. it was crocheted for him by a friend; you'd think a doctor would have good needle skills, but operating on a patient might be easier than operating on a DIY crocheting kit and a bundle of old string. nevertheless, he took the ugly christmas sweater and cherished it; the scent of cigarette smoke and faintly sterile tiles that clung to it.

but suguru was pretty sure that would soon be replaced by the scent of you, if you kept it much longer. not that he minded, of course.

"i, uh. dropped it. in the fire." you said bluntly, stubbornly weaving your hands into his hair and pulling out his hair tie insistently. a few strands caught; even as drunk as you were, you still took the time to smooth out the tangles so you didn't accidentally rip out a patch of his hair. crude as it was, suguru appreciates little things about you like that. not the fire part, though.

"you dropped it in the fire." he echoes, raising an eyebrow. it feels condescending in a very suguru (read: affectionate) way, so you look away, lower lip sticking out. he thinks that just makes you cuter, though; you look like something straight out of his dreams. he can barely bring himself to be irritated.

"um, yeah."

"so.. it burned up?"

"yes."

"you don't have it anymore."

"no, i don't."

"the fire isn't real," he reminds you quietly; softly if you strain your ears.

"but it's so warm over here. and nice, and cozy. what else could it be?" you protested, flailing your arms as if hitting him would force him to reconcile with your beliefs. suguru just opts to lean away from you, an amused and easy smile on his lips. like he's looking at you in adoration; like you're still the one who was molded from clay to fit in his arms even though you supposedly 'burned' his sweater up.

"not sure," he hums, watching as you stand up on two shaky legs like a newborn doe away from its mother's side; the soft glow from the light of the christmas tree gently illuminating your frame. he wishes he could tug you back by the wrist and kiss you breathless, run his hands over you ever lovingly. "you're just like my personal little space heater." he chuckles, soft smooth and melodic, and it snaps you from your tipsiness as you glance back over at him. “fools me into thinking the fire’s real.”

his hair is loose, tumbling over his shoulders and framing his face like a renaissance prince under the soft light; the brown of his eye shines a gentle caramel, soft and smooth as butter and syrup. there’s an easy smile that curves his lips up; he looks unfairly handsome. he thinks he can catch sight of his reflection in the void of your pupil; it looks like there's a birdnest on his head. he frowns, reaching a hand up to muss the tangled black strands. the windows in the living room are vignetted by a frosted glass, a cold world of white waiting outside. it's almost enough to make him shiver, but here, in the warmth of your presence, the snow melts away with the sunshine of your smile.

his fingers catch in his hair and he lets out a pained grunt. he's straightening his bangs when he looks up from his comfy seat on the couch; you're across the room, sitting on the soft wool carpet. there's a stain on the bundles of fluff, constantly hanging over the both of your heads to remind you of how you'd been enjoying a shared cup of hot cocoa with candy cane chunks when your nasty feline sauntered over and promptly jumped into your lap yet again, knocking over the mug and pouring its terribly sweet and sticky contents onto the wool. it had haunted suguru's domestic household nightmares for days after. your evil cat is curled up in your lap, fluffy mitten paws tucked beneath its head as it naps, and suguru doesn't like the flare of jealousy that springs up in his gut.

you catch the look of disdain on his face and shoot him a lazy smile, tilting your head. it's an invitation if he's ever seen one-- deserved, he thinks to himself. that should be him with his head in your lap, your hands in his hair, smoothing out each individual knot, gently massaging his scalp in the way you knew he loved.

...

he shakes his head and stands, brushing the lint (and cat fur— always a pest) off his sweats and saunters over to you; there's that familiar gait in his step from always walking hunched over during his earlier years of youth. sometimes, you'll build a little pillow fort on your bunk bed and settle in his arms between his legs and listen to him tell you stories from a time that seems so long ago but so fresh like new mint leaves in his memory. he'll play with your clothes, bury his nose in your hair and breathe in the scent of home and something like apples and cinnamon in your shampoo. those fun little story nights are always enjoyable, only because he has the best audience.

he squats down, balancing his elbows on his knees as he peers down at you. your cat in your lap lifts its head, looking like the very dictionary definition of judgmental as it squints at suguru. you just laugh, like silver bells clear in a snowstorm, parting the howling wind as if it's the red sea. paving a path straight through the center of his heart like some cursed cupid's arrow.

he doesn’t mind, though, when you scoot your cat off your lap and open your arms wordlessly. he scoots a little closer before settling into you, back flush against his chest as your arms lock around his waist. you rest your chin on his shoulder and he can’t help the rush of butterflies in his stomach; suguru’s never been the type for this sort of girlish, giddy love. but you always bring new things to the table, don’t you? he loves that about you.

suguru settles into your arms, tilting his head to intercept the kiss he knows you’re about to plant to his cheek to instead meet your lips with his, and he swallows and relishes the little surprised gasp that leaves you when he does. a moment later, he hears a pretty little giddy laugh, and he can’t fight the smile that spreads over his lips.

"you're so soft," he whispers, and it's much more exhausted than he thinks it has any right to be, on such a comforting night like this when your laugh smells of sweet liquor wrapped in chocolate and you serve as good of a sweater as any clearance sale item could.

and soon enough, your fingers slide into his hair, separating soft dark strands like you're organizing a collection of seashells. it takes him a while to notice, but he soon realizes you're braiding his hair. the wind howls outside and the fake fire doesn't provide any heat, but your gentle touch and warmth feel like a cozy throw blanket hanging around his shoulders. and he feels okay now; with the way you run your fingers through his hair, delicately gathering the strands from his hair and running a thumb down the length to smooth the knots, weaving them together like a natural crown of holly flowers.

you brush a stray strand from the nape of his neck, and he shivers when your fingertips brush against the tip of his ear. he can't help but smile when you notice the goosebumps on his bare arms and free one hand to reach for his, tangling your fingers together while you untangle the mats in his hair. it's far too cold for him to be wearing that simple, worn white cotton shirt, but he doesn't mind if you'll be the one to keep him warm through this cold season.

it's all fine and dandy until he speaks up again, when you're nearly falling asleep over his head and your arms drape over his chest, toying with the sapphire necklace around his neck. your little cute breaths tickle the top of his head; you've finished the braid. it's a little messy and stray hairs stick out here and there— but at least you didn't settle for pigtails.

when he speaks, it's not directed towards you, though— he's speaking to your cat, with a stern tone you only recognize as the one he uses with you whenever your clothes end up on his side of the drawer or when his jewelry (or hairties) go missing.

and when you open your eyes groggily after suguru shifts to sit up, feeling the dreary loom of a mini hangover after you fall asleep in his arms tonight— you're blessed with the sight of your beloved house pet— a shredded chunk of tacky fabric from suguru's sweater in its mouth, and the death glare that you can only imagine contorting your handsome boyfriend's face.

needless to say, your cat will be nowhere around the two of you when you decide to share a therapeutic cup of hot cocoa again this time.

my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

[ameamedraws]

(From that one discord screenshot)

Atem: hm. I see. That d&d campaign revealed more things about you than I thought.

[sandeewithtwogaye]

Training is important…. But talking about your favourite show is important too

Blue belongs to PopcornPr1nce

Ink belongs to comyet/ myebi

Dream belongs to Jokublog

In case you can’t read my handwriting:

Blue: Huh, that’s weird. Dream is late for training

Ink: Wait, IM not the one late? That’s new!

Blue: Maybe we should check if he’s alright

Blue: Dream, wake up! There’s no time to be a lazybones!

Dream: uh… hey guys! What’s going on-

Blue and Ink: YOU WATCH MY LITTLE PONY?!?

Ink: Please please please tell me you’re a brony too!

Dream: A… brownie?

Blue: OMG you have so much to learn!

[0vergrowngraveyard]

Tails is missing.

Those three words echoed in Amy's mind as she paced around the Restoration’s control room and to say she was stressed out was a huge understatement.

Not only was Tails one of her closest friends, his big brother didn’t know about it…

And said big brother would be here any second.

They had sent the fox on a simple solo mission. It was easy. Just check out a spot that had a signal where a signal shouldn’t be. He’d done it plenty of times with Sonic so there couldn’t have been any harm in sending him off alone, right?

Wrong. Somehow his comm went offline and his location just vanished. Vanished! Tails never took off his communicator and would make a huge fuss about whenever someone did! He almost glued the watch onto Knuckles’ wrist for crying out loud! Why would he suddenly take his off?

It didn’t make any sense. Tails was way too cautious of this situation to be happening at all.

It was entirely possible that he accidentally turned off his communicator, but the fact that it hadn’t responded for almost 30 minutes shed some doubt on that optimistic train of thought.

Luckily, they had his last known location, which was a few feet away from the point, and that’s why Sonic was on his way over. If anyone could get to that point fast enough, it was him.

Only problem is that Sonic didn’t even know about the kit’s solo mission. Amy didn’t think they had to tell him because Tails was growing into his own hero and, again, it was a simple mission that shouldn’t have even taken him an hour! But, of course, the one time Sonic isn’t involved in any missions that Tails has, it all goes horribly wrong and now she has to explain that to the blue hedgehog who was rapidly approaching her location.

The familiar sound of a dash and volunteers getting angry came from outside the room and her breath hitched.

Chaos, he was here way too soon.

“Hey Ames! Sorry I’m late! Saw a chilidog stand on the way and you know me! Just couldn’t resist.” Sure enough, there was a chilidog in his hand. He took a bite before continuing, “So, what d’you need? What's up?”

If Amy wasn’t sweating before, she sure was now. The way Sonic was staring at her was enough to make her start crying right there. His usual grin and friendly emerald eyes unknowingly stabbing daggers right through her.

It felt like she had betrayed him. His little brother was missing and it was partially her fault. She should’ve just gone with her gut and told him about everything.

She just knew that Tails was working really hard to grow out of Sonic’s shadow (or at least that’s how he phrased it) and she just thought that maybe he’d appreciate getting a solo mission! Show him that the Restoration didn’t just see him as Sonic’s sidekick, but as his own person!

How she wished she could turn back time and stop herself.

“Ames?”

She had been staring.

“Ah! I-I’m sorry, must’ve just spaced out for a second haha!” She laughed nervously leading him over to the computers.

“Ooooookay. So what’s this all about? You said something about checking up on someone?” He asked.

Her heart sank. She had to tell him, there was no dancing around it.

“Yeah… about that,” She anxiously tapped her thumbs together.

Sonic cocked a brow at her, a teasing grin appearing on his muzzle. “Yeah, about that.” The hand not holding the chilidog went to his hip as he leaned into it.

She inhaled sharply.

Just get it over with, he needs to know.

“The person you need to check on is Tails.”

Sonic just stared at her for a few seconds before chuckling a bit. It felt so out of place but he didn’t know that.

“I saw him yesterday. He’s at his workshop.” He took a bite of his food, “Y’know, you should really visit sometime! It’s been awhile!”

When he noticed that Amy wasn’t smiling or looking at all relieved, his grin faltered, “Ames, he’s fine, I’m serious! If you need proof, just check his location!” He brought up his wrist, “Look, I’ll even check it no—“

“Sonic, he’s not at his workshop.” She blurted out before he could check.

The blue hedgehog stared at her as he slowly lowered his wrist. His grin was completely gone, a confused stare taking its place.

“What are you talking about?” He asked.

Amy took a shaky breath, “Please…please don’t get mad…”

Now he looked worried. “What? Amy? I won’t, just tell me what’s going on? Where’s Tails?”

You could always tell when Sonic’s patented “Big Brother Mode” was activating. He just had a certain stare he gave you when you even hinted that his little brother may be in trouble. It was a look of worry, fear, and worst of all, anger.

An angry Sonic was a Sonic you didn’t want to mess with. Not much really made him mad, his chill personality was definitely not just a public opinion, but there were a few things in life that really set him off…

and something happening to his little brother was at the very top of that list.

“Sonic, I..” Her voice shook, “I don’t know.”

—————

Sonic had been having a great day. A fantastic day, even.

He had spent it checking out old spots he and Tails used to make camp at, making mental notes that they should spend the night at a few of these locations for old times sake. It could be a week-long camping trip for them! It had been some time since the two of them slept under the stars together!

Visiting these places made him nostalgic in ways he never knew he could feel. He missed the days when all he and his brother had were a backpack and a few heroic deeds to their name. When their biggest worries were Scratch and Grounder, not gods and wars.

Back when his little brother was the sweetest, most adorable little four year old to ever exist (that was a fact, not an opinion).

They were simpler times.

He was so excited to get back home and tell his brother all about his idea so imagine his surprise when he gets a call from the Restoration saying something about needing to check up on someone who wasn’t responding to any calls only to find out that person is supposedly Tails.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” He didn’t want to get mad right after he told Amy he wouldn’t, but the hedgehog had no idea how long he’d be able to keep his cool. “Just…just tell me what’s going on.”

Amy turned her gaze to the floor for a few beats, tears pricked her eyes. He started tapping his foot impatiently.

He really didn’t want to be mad at Amy. She was twelve years old and, while she wasn’t in charge of the Restoration anymore, she played a huge part in making sure it stayed afloat. She was already under a lot of stress and raising his voice would not help that.

She inhaled before speaking. “We sent him on a solo mission and his comm suddenly went offline.”

She must’ve seen the look on his face because words came flooding out of her mouth to attempt to explain.

“Sonic, I swear it was nothing dangerous. We just had him go check something out! A weird signal! That’s all!” She cried out. “He’d done it plenty of times before! I-I just thought this wouldn’t be any different! I-“

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He cut her off. His tone was harsh and he almost cringed at the way it made her wince. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that his worry for his little brother’s safety was strongly overpowering his worry about hurting his friend’s feelings.

It sucked, but he was a big brother first and foremost.

“Because I didn’t think it was a big deal! He's gone to check Chaos Emerald reading on his own, this wasn’t any different! He probably would’ve even been back by now!” The pink hedgehog reasoned, a few tears had slipped down her muzzle.

“Yea, ‘not very different’. Except it’s very different because it was an unknown signal! Not a Chaos Emerald reading! That signal could’ve been anything!” He didn’t mean to raise his voice but damn it, he was stressing out. “And even when he goes to look for Emerald readings on his own, I still know where he is in case of situations like these! I always know where he is because he’s eight years old, Amy! He shouldn’t even be looking for readings alone but he does anyway!”

He didn’t even realize he had thrown his free hand up, still holding onto the chilidog in the other, and walked a few steps away from her. His free hand was on his forehead as his mind flooded with all the scenarios his baby brother could be in right now. Images of Tails being scared and/or hurt and his screams of pain played over and over again.

Finally, he turned to look at Amy. For a lack of better words, she looked awful. Her quills were a mess and she looked seconds away from breaking down.

“How long?” He asked

“W-what?”

“How long has his communicator been offline?”

It took a few beats for her to finally respond. “Around 30 minutes ago…”

All Sonic could do was stare. The chilidog in his hand fell to the floor with a disgusting splat.

30 minutes. 30 whole minutes. Chaos knows what happened to his little brother and it took them 30 minutes to call him?! Why was he even told to come to the Restoration HQ? He should’ve been at his last known location by now figuring out what happened!

Oh Chaos what if it was too late. It had to be, right? Sure, 48 hours was usually the crucial time when it came to missing children, but in this line of work, even just 5 minutes alone could spell disaster, let alone 30!

“30 minutes…why didn’t you just send me the coordinates?! Why did you ask me to come here?!”

“I don’t know! I- I just panicked! This has never happened before and I didn’t know what to do!” She collapsed to her knees, tears streaming down her muzzle as she held her face in her hands.

He felt bad for yelling at her, he hated yelling at his younger friends, but self control was something that was in limited supply at the moment. He looked at the floor, his quills raised as if the knowledge of Tails possibly being in danger meant that the hedgehog was in danger as well.

His legs were itching to just get out of this damn room.

“I’m so sorry, Sonic…Tails could be hurt and it’s all my fault…I should’ve told you…I shouldn’t have even sent him alone…I’m so sorry…” She cried into her hands.

Sonic didn’t respond to her.

Instead, he looked around the room at all the Mobians who were staring at him in fear. None of them had ever seen the hero this upset before.

“Someone send me his last known coordinates.” He demanded. “Now.”

One of the volunteers at the computer quickly typed something into the device and clicked the mouse a few times. His own communicator in his wrist lit up with a notification.

A set of coordinates on the outskirts of White Park Zone.

With the location already memorized, he gave a nod to the Mobian at the computer who sent him a shaky thumbs up back.

He looked back down at Amy. He wanted to say something, wanted to say that it wasn’t her fault and that everything would be okay, but he couldn’t find his voice.

He ran out of the HQ, pushing himself to go faster and faster. He’d already wasted too much time talking.

‘Hang tight, keed. I’m on my way.’ He thought as the boom of a broken sound barrier shook the area around him.

—————

Somewhere far from White Park Zone, a little fox slowly opened his blue eyes. A headache pounding against his skull as he tried to make sense of the area around him through his concussion.

He didn’t remember much, only the feeling of something hard hitting the back of his head and blacking out. He remembered he was checking something out for Amy, it had been his first solo mission for the Restoration! Except that mission seemed to have gone wrong.

He just hoped his brother wasn’t mad at him.

[sun-snatcher]

🌾 ・ OF CLARION CALLS

summ. The rebellion runs into trouble, & Jet takes the brunt of it. In the aftermath, you fight to keep him alive. pairing. Jet x f!medic!reader w.count. 1.5k a/n. So little Jet fics/imagines around so i had to take matters into my own hands. Enjoy!

The moonlight casts a halo above your head, and for a brief moment, Jet thinks you’re a divine spirit, perhaps a goddess— or whatever it is his mother used to read to him before bed.

( In some ways, you are. )

…Jet, he hears, distant. He can’t pinpoint exactly where— every sound is either muffled or echoing, and the world keeps tipping in and out of a blur. All he can sense through the haze is the belt of dull pain creeping up his chest, and the cotton-numbness engulfing his head. Right. He’d been shot clean through his armor plate by a wayward arrow after he’d jumped infront of Sneers to protect him. He remembers now, vaguely. It had been an ambush on their way home.

...et, stay with me. 

Jet. 

“Jet!”

The world focuses. He inhales, sharp, and the pain blinds him white as he gasps.

“Easy there, handsome,” you joke (not really), holding his twitching body down and trying to meet his dazed look. The blood is thick enough to taste, and one look is enough to tell he’s walking a tightrope between life or death. He's growing colder, and losing colour by the minute. You make quick work to staunch the gaping wound in his chest, hope he can’t detect the shakiness in your hands, or the tears gathering in your eyes. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“Will he?” comes a voice behind the two medics crowding him. It’s Smellerbee, standing at the step of the medical tent; her voice sounds uncharacteristically frightened, and it sends a pang through your heart. I’m fine, Jet instinctively wants to insist, but you answer for him instead. “Yes. He will." ( And, well, surely such a small deception would not count against you, not when it was meant to give the others some measure of peace. )

Jet blinks, finally orienting himself enough to look at you and not through you— and blinks again. You’re lying. He could feel it. He could always tell, whenever it comes to you. 

…Stay, he thinks, suddenly and senselessly, and clasps his bloodied hand around your wrist. He calls your name, voice straining in pain. But he must’ve said it aloud instead, because you’d smiled at him as gently as you could— even when it looked as if the effort of doing so would wound you— and said, calmly, convincingly: I promise, I’m not going anywhere.

“With me?” he asks, again, even when he knows he must’ve sounded like a madman. Perhaps it’s the bloodloss. Likely, it was. It wouldn’t be such a bad end, though, so long as you stood by his side. He wants to tell you this— been wanting to for a long time, now— but the strength has left him, leaving him floating somewhere between the world of waking and dreaming.

“With you,” comes your reply. 

You catch the ghost of his trademark smile just before he slips away.

Jet survives.

That’s the first surprise. 

The second is that; you’re here. Just as you’d promised.

He must have been out for longer than he thinks, because the atmosphere in the medical tent seemed to have ebbed to something much more conducive than last he remembers. The tinctures of alcohol and sedatives surrounding him and his bloody bandages that night are now replaced with dry ingredients; yarrow half-crushed in a mortar and pestle, mixed herbs and colourful liquids corked in tiny bottles and tins he couldn’t begin to name. His armour had been stripped from him, lying above a chest by the corner.

Ever the leader; “Sneers,” is the first word out his mouth, once he’d stirred awake on his cot and recognition returned slowly to him. It’s early sometime in the morning, judging by the colour of the sky outside the tattered tent flaps and the still quietness in the air. Beside him, an incense of sandalwood burns. “Sneers—”

“Is alive, thanks to you,” you override. The faint bitterness in your voice is not lost on him.

Somehow, someway, seeing him conscious now seemed to make you bristle. You think— no, you know— that it’s unfair of you; that it’s simply the pent-up frustrations and stress overflowing from the night he’d been hauled back to camp with one foot in the grave. But Longshot’s harrowing clarion call for a medic from the trees still rings clear as a bell in your head, just as much as the cold shock that had seized you the moment you realised the birdcall was for Jet.

“Good.”

“Not good,” you correct, “Not when you of all people pay the price.”

( Jet doesn’t delude himself into thinking that there could possibly be another meaning to what you said. It would be impossible. ) “You would’ve done the same,” he bites back, and takes your silence as quiet agreement.

“You’re upset,” Jet points out, narrowing his eyes. “Why?”

A sigh. “You just woke up,” you dismiss, if only to get him off your scent. “We can talk another day.”

“We’re already here, so let’s settle it now. The mission went well, and as far as I can see, I’m the only one in here, which means nobody else got hurt on the way back but me. Atleast, not as badly.”

It’s a debrief, you recognise. A coping mechanism for him— to spur himself into action and settle himself. Given the stress and trauma his body has been enduring the past days, you let it pass.

It’s only when you shift out from your seat by his cot, standing to begin putting away the bowls of medicine prepared, that Jet realises your fingers had been holding his wrist before. You must have stayed up for, what he can only imagine to be long nights, to keep track on whether his pulse was still beating. ( Something inside his chest burns. He can’t tell if it’s your doing or the injury being fussy. )

“I’m sorry,” he huffs, sighing out. “If that’s what you wanna hear.”

“For what?” You set the mortar down on your table with more force than necessary, and looked at him sharply from over your shoulder. Jet, damn him, still looks at you straight in the eyes, confident as ever. You want to kiss him. You want to break his nose. “For being a hero?”

“No.”

“Playing martyr?”

“No.”

“For saving Sneers? Everyone?”

“No—”

“Then what?”

“For scaring you,” he says, simply.

Your heart starts. 

A frisson runs through you, and you feel the back of your eyes begin to burn.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” he emphasises, and doesn’t say, I’m sorry I made you cry, because your prideful self would have denied it instantly, even if he remembers it clear as day. “I’m sorry I put you through that.” 

He yanks at a loose thread on the blanket you’d laid on him a night ago. It must have been terrifying to see him be dragged to the table, half-dead with a broken arrow in his chest, and leave a mess of blood and horror in his wake. It must have been terrifying, indeed, to be the one responsible for him against Death itself— to carry the weight of his life on your shoulders, while the rest of the Freedom Fighters watched on. 

“It’s, it’s my job,” you turn away to close a drawer of medical instruments, because you’re not quite sure you can stand meeting his gaze. Not when it only reminds you of just how much he lived, breathed and bleeds chaos and revolution; not when you know this accident definitely won’t be the last.

You can’t handle him. Or maybe it’s yourself you can’t handle, when it comes to him. “Just, be careful.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he salutes mockingly, albeit with a wince. The flinch is what kicks you back into action.

“You’re staying in bed until you’re better,” you order, curt, ignoring his groan. His wrapped shoulder still seems painfully defiant despite all the numbing you’d given him; it would be a couple of weeks longer before he’d be fully healed, but knowing Jet— he’ll be up performing duties within a week. “That means no strain at all. No scouting or recon or hunting, got it?”

He lulls his head, but there’s a dash of humour on his face. “Since I’m bedridden, does that mean you’re at my every beck and call, then?”

Your face twists. He lets out a laugh when you answer, "In your dreams, Jet."

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

You roll your eyes, though without heat, and place a bowl of fresh water by his side. There is, at the very least, a smile on your face, and Jet’s sure he can sleep well tonight knowing you both are, at the end of the day, okay. 

“Hey,” he calls your name, once you've begun making your way out the tent. You try to ignore how much more sweeter it sounds coming from him. “I really am sorry. I’m serious.”

He had caught your sleeve when he spoke, so your fingers now brush against his. You try not to focus on the touch too much. “So am I.”

“We can’t lose you, Jet,” you continue, unsteady; because saying I can’t lose you would have been unthinkable.

[hazelnut-u-out]

Somehow never caught this before, but does this imply Birdperson’s mom killed his dad and he remembers seeing it?

The fact this memory is somehow tied to Blood Ridge in his mind makes me wonder if that’s part of why he didn’t accept Rick’s advances— maybe even subconsciously. If that’s what this implies, no wonder he had commitment issues. Makes the shit with Tammy hit differently, too…

I know it’s a throw away moment, but I really hope we get a follow up on that… Regardless of what that memory is, it’s dark shit.

[starry-dork]

First sight/ kindergarten

Day 1 of kyman week

[dave-me0wstaine]

Bad boy 80s dave, I feel like if yall made out and you were on his lap he would like grind your hips into his until he like... yknowwwww but like dominant. (If ya could make that a fic that would be amazing :3)

anon!!!! this is so good like. could you imagine???

i feel like he'd be spread out on the couch, his legs open wide, borderline manspreading and he beckons you over to him. and so you crawl on his lap, happy to get some attention from your boyfriend. you're all shy smiles and happy giggles as he runs his large hands over your body, tickling your sides and making you squirm on his lap.

everything's all innocent kisses and playful tickles until you wiggle in a certain way and feel something hard, and you immediately start feeling hot because you know what that is. dave grips your hips and guides you across his bulge again.

"keep movin', pretty girl." he mutters, leaning in to leave marks across your neck. although you hardly get the chance to move, because dave is still gripping your hips, using his strength to swivel your hips across his.

"d-davie.." you whine, already feeling your high approaching. he's just so rough. you can feel bruises starting to form on your sides from how strongly he's holding you, and the pressure he applies to grind your bodies together makes for intense pleasure.

"what? feelin' good, baby? too much?" he asks. when you nod, he quickly takes on a condescending tone.

"so spoiled.. you're just a little pillow princess, yeah?" he groans, tilting his head back after a particularly hard grind. "fuckk, m'gonna cum like this."

you wrap your arms around dave's neck, snuggling into his neck and whining as you felt your orgasm rapidly approaching. all of a sudden, you feel fingers wind themselves in your hair, and yank your head back.

"don't hide, look at me when you cum," dave grits out between clenched teeth. as soon as you make eye contact with him, seeing his blown out pupils and intense gaze, you instantly crumble underneath him, mewling and writhing in his lap as you cum.

you lean forward, resting your head on his shoulder, and as you come down from your high, you realize you feel unusually wet. it’s only when you look down and see a huge wet patch on dave’s crotch and realize that you made him cum in his jeans. you blush, and he just chuckles at your shy expression.

“wasn’t lying when i said i was gonna cum, sweetheart.”

[krakerjaksstuff]

Rewatched ep 6 of the Pacific and THE FREAKING PARALLELS BETWEEN HOOSIER AND RUNNER GETTING SHOT IS MAKING ME CRAZY. But what’s driving me the most insane IS HOW LECKIE LEARNED SO QUICKLY FROM HIS HELPLESSNESS WITH HOOSIER.

When Runner gets shot, Leckie immediately gets out a cloth and puts pressure to his wound just like how the medic did to Hoosier. He’s also a lot calmer when talking to Runner compared to his “it ain’t shit” when talking to Hoosier. He is determined to be useful this time around. He’s not going to let down another friend. And so he goes to find a corpsman, and for the first time since Melbourne, he is determined to come back (ie: his multiple “I’m coming back”s when leaving Runner), and instead he gets blown up. No matter how much he tries—the frantic attempts to apply his limited medical knowledge, the yelling, the desperation—he is always helpless.

[atsr-studios]

Happy 36th anniversary to one of my favorite franchises ever :>

[giulzart]

Violet in the future on Orion’s route: