#AND THE FUCKING ALL MIGHT CARD THING TOO HE JUST HAS THAT ON HIM CASUALLY LSJDKLSDJFSD KATSUKI

[bakudekublogblog]

y'all i know kacchan dying like that must have been traumatizing for the bkdk shippers, but like.... he also died in the gayest way humanly possible.... like i can't even imagine going through that bc on one hand it's like my special boy is dead, but on the other he was so love interest coded, shiggy killed him specifically bc of izuku's intense feelings about him, the fucking yearning for izuku as he died, and then the reveal he carries the little all might card he got with izuku around with him like. i cannot stress enough just how gay his death was. like i just know the shippers had to be a little conflicted

[yeyinde]

The 141 finding out you've never had sex.

Just casually drinking, playing cards. A joke causes it to slip out.

body electric: the virgin edition

Gaz, the instigator, mutters something about not having been fucked in ages. this springs up a sudden surge of comradery, because, yeah. neither have they.

Soap's devote Catholicism (i like to imagine) leaves little room for flippant intimacy. he tries to be a good boy. key word, of course, being: tries. but the last serious relationship was years ago. back when he was grunt. he's pent up. abstinence, yeah? he holds it tight in his hand. but the thing about fists is that they're often mistaken for anger. Soap's a realist masquerading as an optimist. he knows whoever falls into his jowls next will be a MacTavish by the time he's through with them. and commitment. well. his comes at a price. a hefty one.

Ghost prefers casual flings where he doesn't have to take any clothes off. unzips his trousers, frees his cock, and then tries to pretend he's a real, flesh and blood, human. to feel something, anything, except a vacuum between hollow bones. but his tastes are peculiar. on the side of unhinged. he hasn't found the perfect body yet satiate himself with.

Price. well. with his bloody hands, he thinks he'd rather not dirty the same people he swears to protect. and divorcing at the age of 30 does that to a man, maybe. his role as a captain (an excuse in retrospect) also keeps him from unleashing his wants. the very same ones that are probably best under lock and key, anyway. it's just for the best, really. something he ought to do because the moment he has another chance to sink his teeth into someone's neck, he'll tear them apart. break them into pieces.

despite bringing it up, Gaz knows the real reason he's single is because he's pushy. he wants. so he takes. and then takes some more. more. more. until his gullet is full of the person he's obsessed with. carrying them around in his breast pocket everywhere he goes. the perfect mate. the one he can shower with unfettered affection. a deluge, in all honesty. one with the ideation to drown. biblical floods. trapped beneath him. he likes it more than he should, but. singedom, then, he supposes.

and then you roll the dice. admit, sheepishly, that, technically, you have them all beat. zero is always lesser than five, ten, twenty. but it's this misstep—zero, never—that catches their attention.

suddenly, you're not surrounded by kin but a pack of wolves. all hungry in their own ways, all starving. it just makes sense to quench their hunger with you, doesn't it? friend, ally. pretty little thing. so sweet for them. and perfectly mouldable. putty they shape to their hearts desire. the perfect mate.

Soap grips his rosary. the sign of the cross, heavenly Father and Holy Spirit, digging into his palm like the burn of a baptism. what's devotion if not pain? he cuts himself on the gold. offers blood of the sacrament to whoever might be listening, and leans in, sniffing.

Price's knuckles are white. he leans back, hidden in shadows. all you can see is spark of burning orange from his cigar as he takes mouthful after mouthful of smoke, contemplating. assessing.

"that so?" he doesn't even need to look at his Lieutenant to know that the man has gone still. too bad for you, it's not from shock.

Ghost barely holds himself back. keeps tight in his seat. fists clenching. unclenching. he has a good enough read on the people around him to see the unfiltered desire ripping across their face. scorching. but to bite, with his mouthful of jagged, seraded teeth; ones meant to rip, break, tear, would ruin you. permanently. unequivocally. and—

"wanna give it a go?" all eyes turn to Gaz, electric in his seat. eyes smouldering umbre. "i mean, you trust us the most, don't you?" us. it's stunning, he thinks, the way Gaz can weave tapestry in the air like this with just his words. one tangled like shibari binds. "and we care for you a lot. we'll be gentle. it's up to you, of course, but—"

Soap's bloody hand disappears under the table. you gasp. "yer askin' fer it, ain't ye? beggin' so pretty fer it."

"n-no, i—"

"mind your manners." Price. his voice is chiselled into char, authoritative; low. a lulling command spoken in a breath of smoke. "and don't lie, love. or i'll have to take you over my knee."

the tension is thick. Soap's arm moves, slow. deliberate. Ghost has clench his jaw to avoid bearing his teeth. snarling.

Gaz cuts it with a knife. hews compliance into your skin with a fine needle point. "it's okay. we'll take such good care'a you. make you feel so good."

your submission is a heavy thing. oppressive. the shallow dip of your chin, the blistering heat simmering under your flesh, burning right, is the prettiest fuckin' thing he's ever seen. he does clench his jaw this time. tight, tight. tight

until something pops.

"okay." you yield. head bowed. beautifully submissive.

when he looks around, catches the predatory crackle in the air. his hackles raise. immediate. instinctual. and ah, right.

it's easy to forget he's surrounded by a wild pack of stray dogs. starving ones, too.

[loaksky]

— 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 [𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦]

the lowdown — the one where neteyam is too blinded by duty to realize what he has right in front of him. 

the who — neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count  — 5.6k (this isn't even a drabble anymore).

the tags & warnings — language, more emotional constipation, mentions of blood & injury, childhood friends(?)2l, unrequited love, angst w a semi-happy / openish ending.

the notes  — based off of this request & this one ! let’s pretend the trees of souls didn’t get burned down in the first movie :) 

masterlist

You were an odd thing, curious, maybe a little strange, but like learning anything, everyone had grown accustomed to your weird little habits. Everyone except for Neteyam, the clan leader’s son. And the weird habit in question was poorly-expressed words of adoration that seemed to meld into unconventional confessions as you got older. 

It started when you two were eight, perhaps nine. The two of you were in a village elder’s tent, learning the best ways to debone fish to prepare for meals when she’d ducked out for a moment and left the two of you in a cloud of uncomfortable silence. 

Neteyam’s fingers were nimble, swift, while you lagged behind, eyes fluttering to the way he seemed to grasp the elder’s instruction with more ease than you. 

“We should always be together,” you’d said absently, still fiddling with the same fish while Neteyam moved onto the next. “I will be useless to our family without you.” 

Neteyam’s spine had gone rigid, gaze wide as he side-eyed you from his seat. 

“Huh?” He’d clearly been caught off guard, ministrations on the catch frozen as his eyebrows furrowed. 

“When we are married,” you’d said, holding the bone structure of your first fish triumphantly.

“Married?” he parroted shrilly, fully turning to face you. 

You looked up from your task, nodding like it was the most common of knowledge.

“Yes, Neteyam,” you affirmed, chuffing a small laugh. “In the future, when we are married.” 

Neteyam wouldn’t have been so off put had the comment been a one time thing, but they were frequent, spoken both in the quiet of much-dreaded time alone with you and hushed whispers in the midst of the other villagers your age. 

It wasn’t any help that his parents seemed to always set the two of you up in many endeavors over the course of your adolescence. And he’d tried, tried so hard to shake you over the years, but you were glued to his hip. 

You look handsome today, you’d say often, regardless. Training is paying off, whispered in his ear as your fingertips smoothe over the skin of his biceps. I hope the little ones grow to be as mighty as you are, spoken after sessions in the archery circle. The comments are all fleeting, mentioned in passing like a casual word, but they make Neteyam warm, make his cheeks heat when he searches your face for any betrayal of emotion. 

But all he’s met with is an expression that borders smug, one that makes him wonder why, out of all of the boys growing into fine young men over the course of your adolescence, had you picked him to be the object of your affections. 

Try as he might, to be short-tempered, callous, you were always there. He sought the attention of other women, tried to put as many bodies between the two of you, but you were relentless, smiled gently when you’d catch his wandering hands against the skin of another, would turn a blind eye when his lips brushed too intimately over eager ears.

At first he figured that maybe it was because he was the first boy you’d encountered and it’d just been the way the cards were dealt. At times he thought you were messing with him, a long-running joke between you and some unknown entities to fuck around with his feelings. His current theory, however, is one that he sits more confidently on when he begins observing you. 

You spend an awful amount of time not only tailing him, but tailing his family, pestering Kiri and Lo’ak about god knows what, spending many afternoons schmoozing with his parents, seeking guidance from Mo’at. 

He comes to the conclusion, after some time, that you’re trying to solidify your place within his family, trying to secure your role next to him as the future leader of the clan. This much is confirmed when his parents bring up the sore topic of you one night once everyone has turned in after the evening meal. 

“The time for your selection feast is arriving,” Neytiri says hesitantly, like she’s treading on thin ice. 

Neteyam has an inkling where this conversation will go when Jake shifts to sit next to his partner, the perfect picture of what a love that transcends all should look like. But he doesn’t know love, just knows preparing for his future and what ruling the clan will look like. 

“Yeah,” Neteyam agrees. 

“Do you have someone in mind?” Jake prods, busying himself by toying with his songchord. 

To his dismay, you briefly eclipse his mind, the annoyingly beautiful girl he’d grown up with but, even a decade later, still can’t seem to get a good read on.

“No,” he answers slowly. 

His parents seem to chew on this for a moment, glancing at each other momentarily before Neytiri draws in a deep breath and focuses her attention on her oldest son all over again. 

“Well…your father and I believe that perhaps ________ could be a good choice.”

It’s like a bomb detonates, but the aftershocks are only seen in the way Neteyam’s lips purse and his brows furrow. 

He’s not one to go against his parents, but he’ll be damned if he has to spend forever with you. 

“No,” he repeats, but with time with vindication. 

Jake looks stunned, back straightening as he takes his son in with wary eyes.

“No?” 

“No,” Neteyam reiterates. “I would rather spend my life alone than spend it with her.” 

“Neteyam,” Neytiri sighs. 

“I’m sorry, Mom, I won’t,” he says firmly, swallowing down the lump in his throat as he glances between both of his parents, hoping, wishing that maybe they’ll see that this isn’t a good idea.

“Maitan, you don’t understand,” Neytiri says softly. “When you and ________ were born, Ewya gave us a sign.”

Neteyam’s blood runs cold. 

“So this has already been decided?” he asks, voice eerily steady. 

“Not necessarily,” Jake interjects. “We didn’t want you two to feel like you were being forced to be together so we hoped that encouraging you both to spend time together would allow something to develop…” 

“But they haven’t, so now it’s a not-so-silent push,” he says shortly. 

His parents share another look and he feels annoyance beginning to form in his gut. 

“We wouldn’t say that there aren’t any feelings there,” Neytiri says. 

Neteyam breathes a humorless laugh as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“I don’t feel anything for her,” he says with finality. “Nothing about a union with her piques my interest. We’ve been in close proximity since birth but my heart feels more for the trees in the forest than it ever will for ________.” 

Jake squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Have you thought about giving her a chance?” he pushes. “She’s a lovely girl, really likes you.” 

That draws another huff of humorless laughter from Neteyam. 

���The only thing she’s interested in is status and being tsahik,” Neteyam scoffs. “There is nothing there.” 

Neytiri opens her mouth to say something, but Neteyam has mustered up as polite an excuse as he can as he stands to his feet and bows his head to his parents. 

When he ducks from the tent, he doesn’t expect to see you lingering outside of the exit.

His face morphs as the quiet words leave your lips. 

“You doubt my affections for you.” It’s a statement and a question wrapped in one, but you’re resigned, like always, and Neteyam can’t seem to grasp what you’re trying to get at clinging to him, to whatever this dynamic is. 

“What’s this game you’re playing?” he accuses, eyes narrowed. 

“What game?” you ask, gaze unfaltering as you stare up at him with those round golden eyes. 

He lets out a frustrated sigh. 

“Our entire lives, from being kids to now, you’ve toyed with me,” he says fiercely. “With this idea of us. Why? I’ve given you no reasons to be fond of me, yet you’re always here, there, everywhere.” 

“I have much to be fond of,” is your simple answer and Neteyam could groan in frustration. 

“Like what? Being the olo’eyktan’s son? Holding the future of this clan in my hands?” he asks sharply. 

“I would love you, circumstances withstanding,” you respond. “You don’t have to be afraid.” 

Love. 

What an odd concept, weird. One that Neteyam can’t seem to wrap his mind around when it comes to you. Doesn’t think he ever will. 

“Afraid of what?” he bites. 

“Of loving me back,” you say. 

He grimaces like the very thought disgusts him, like you’re an aversion he desperately wants to rid of. And perhaps you are, you realize, seeing years of pent up frustration and anger culminating into one big wound ready to rupture. 

“You think I love you?” he asks incredulously. 

He doesn’t miss the way you shrink, blinking quickly. 

“If you gave us a chance, maybe,” you whisper.

It sounds like the conversation with his parents all over again and realization seems to shutter across his features as he looks down at you. 

“How long have you known?” 

“Known what?” you ask quietly. 

“How long have you known that they’re trying to force us to be together?” he asks. 

You’re silent for a moment before muttering something under your breath. 

“What?” he snaps.

“They aren’t forcing us,” you clear your throat. “Not me, at least.” 

He scoffs. 

“Of course,” he mocks. “Because it only matters what you want out of this. Not that for the last decade I’ve been trying to get you to back off, trying to get you to understand that I don’t want this. I don’t want us, and if it means forfeiting my responsibilities, then so be it.” 

It’s a lofty statement, one that seals the last nail on your coffin. 

You’d loved Neteyam for as long as you can remember, have probably liked him for longer. When your parents told you early on that Eywa had given both of your families a sign that you and Neteyam were meant for one another, you’d embraced the idea wholeheartedly. Loved the idea of loving him even through moments when he’d try to drive a wedge between the two of you. 

Give him time, your parents had said to you. Jake and Neytiri want his feelings to develop naturally. 

And you waited. God, you waited, for so long. Waited for him to come around, to realize the things he did to you. Perhaps you had been too presumptuous, thinking that he’d be able to read you behind such a stoic facade, afraid that if you revealed too much of your wanting, you’d turn him off from the idea of being with you. 

But as you stand here before him, small under such a burning gaze, you realize that it’d been wishful thinking. Choosing him meant nothing if he didn’t choose you back. 

“I see…” you trail off quietly.

“Do you?” he asks, tone facetious. 

You nod once, unable to meet his gaze. Unable to see that his expression twitches the tiniest amount when he clocks the way your body seems to deflate.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I do.” 

His following days are quiet, filled with personal duties and commitments to the clan. He’d expected you to sleep off the night’s confrontation, he certainly had, a twinge of guilt searing his gut.

But you’re good at hiding, good at masking your feelings, good at disappearing. It doesn’t bother him at the beginning, figuring that you need your space, but then it’s a dull ache that ebbs into a grating gnaw as his every other thought flits to you and what you could be doing now that you’ve settled such a wide distance between himself and his family. 

“You are injured a lot more these days,” Mo’at observes, slathering the viscous mixture over a cut between his shoulder blades. 

He remains silent, doesn’t know how to admit that he’d been far more reckless these past few days in the hopes that he’d run into you in his grandmother’s quarters. A silent yearn to feel your skilled fingers work over his wounds, tender as you try to pry your way into his heart. 

Mo’at had been the one you spent the most time with, diligently training in the chance that Neteyam would finally see you, would make you his. But right now, you’re nowhere to be found and all he’s rewarded with is his grandmother’s rough hands and inquisitive gaze.

“She made this salve,” Mo’at says, filling the silence with idle talk. “Found a recipe that speeds healing and softens the skin.” 

“Did she?” Neteyam responds absently, imagining you picking and pruning the herbs yourself, frame languid as you move through the brush. 

“Said she didn’t want her lover to have such tough skin.” 

There’s laughter in his grandmother’s voice, but he can’t find it in himself to see the humor in the situation. Not when he’s beginning to see that maybe he’s not just another rung in the ladder for you, that duty is the most miniscule drop in your bucket.  

“Where’s ________?” he asks after a moment, hissing through his teeth when his grandmother’s fingers prod the wound. 

“Taking a break from her studies to assist Ama with the children,” she answers, and he misses the knowing look in her eyes. She pats his shoulder when she’s done patching him up. “She’s a fine young woman, Neteyam. Many of the villagers do not turn a blind eye to that fact. If she is not the one that your heart desires, give her the opportunity to align with one that does.” 

It makes something ugly, green, roil in the pit of his stomach at the idea of you being the subject of houndish eyes. You’re too reserved, too sweet, too devoted to be anyone else’s. 

And the thought floors him, makes the knot growing obnoxiously in his throat choke the air from his lungs. 

“Yeah,” he agrees in a whisper. 

And he knows that his grandmother is right. Knows that he shouldn’t be asking about you, doesn’t have the right to hold you hostage if the union is something that truly unsettles him. But the thought of letting go of whatever the two of you have is surprisingly indigestible. 

Neteyam is frustrated, thoroughly disoriented now that all he can think of is you. He’d tried everything under the sun to shake you, to get you to throw your cards in first, but now that you have, it’s like you tug on a string tethered to his hellish heart. 

He stands to his feet and turns to face Mo’at, giving a respectful nod before exiting the tent. 

It’s wrong, he knows it, seeking you out after burning every bridge between the two of you, but he can’t help it. Can’t help but enter the clearing in the forest carved through with a stream that the little ones play in. 

You’re exactly where his grandmother had said you were, sitting near the edge of the bubbling waters with Ama, a girl a few years your senior. The children are giggling, laughing as they splash each other, splash you. The expression on your face falters a little, stern as you adjust the netting strapped to your chest. 

The air is trapped in his lungs as he realizes. Sees the little head that peeks from the top of the fabric, ear pressed to your heart as you cover the baby’s head from the children’s gleeful laughter. 

“That’s not very nice,” you say gently. “Your little sister is trying to sleep.” 

Your voice makes the hairs on the back of his neck prick, a soft rasp that’s haunted him for the last few sleepless nights. It’s odd, seeing you in this light, relaxed from your lack of duties. You’re in your element like this, smiling and coddling the children of the clan as they climb over you and poke and prod. 

“Teyam!” One of them clocks him before he can retreat and his spine is going stiff, stomach turning when he sees the way your expression melts. 

“Hi,” he greets simply, unable to form anything more solid in the fears that he’ll spook you. 

The kids start emerging from the stream one by one, surrounding him as he takes a few tentative steps into the clearing. 

“Neteyam,” Ama greets cordially, eyes flitting between the two of you as you busy yourself with the little one strapped to your chest. 

Neteyam, on the other hand, can’t keep his eyes off of you. He’s silently pleading with Eywa, with whatever other force lies out of reach that you’ll just look at him. But you’re locked up tighter than a vault, obviously still reeling from the confrontation all those days ago. 

He hums your name, gentle like a prayer. Your eyes are hesitant, watching the snoozing baby in your arms before glancing at the remaining children in the stream before finally meeting his longing gaze. 

“Can we talk?” he asks you, flashing one of the curious kids a brief smile when they tug on the hem of his loincloth. 

Your response is far more blunt than he’d expected, taken aback when you murmur a firm, “No.”

He supposes that he deserves that, has earned the warmth that eclipses over his cheeks as the children watch the exchange with inquisitive eyes. And the way you stand to your feet to wrangle the village’s little ones is merited, telling them that playtime is over. 

But as Ama helps you gather their things, sensing the obvious tension between you and the olo’eyktan’s son, he realizes that he can’t just let this go. He won’t. Not without making things right, without telling you that loving you isn’t the hard part, it could never be. 

But agency is something his parents have withheld from him his entire life, molded him into being the perfect son that bends to the clan’s every beck and call. Loving you was just another thing to add to the list of things he did for everyone else’s sake but his own.

He sees now, though, sees that loving you, being in love with you isn’t a difficult feat. Not when he’s been given the smallest glance into what having a future could be like with you. Especially not when he’s learned so many things about you in the moments where you’re a fleeting plume of smoke that surrounds and chokes him all the same. 

He calls your name again, firm this time around. There’s a stutter in your step, he sees the way your shoulders draw taut with a labored sigh. 

You murmur something to Ama, undoing the ties to the netting that carries the dozing infant. Neteyam watches as you shush the kids, reminding them to be good to their tsmuke on their journey through the forest. 

Your fingers are gentle as you tie the last knot, brushing Ama’s shoulders lightly as you tell her you’ll catch up with her shortly. 

When they’re out of earshot, clambering back into the village circle, you turn on your heel, standing on the opposite side of the embankment. The glittering waters gurgle between the two of you as you wait patiently for Neteyam to muster his courage. 

“About our union,” he starts. “I–” 

“I’ve told my parents to forgo the preparations,” you say softly, seemingly unbothered as you pay more attention to the blades of grass that tickle your ankles. 

Neteyam’s spine stiffens.

“Why would you…” 

“You don’t want this,” you repeat his words from the fall out. “You don’t want us. We’ll both be unhappy.” 

It makes his heart squeeze. 

“You would be so unhappy in our union?” he scoffs, like he’s cracked the code. 

He doesn’t expect the humorless laugh that spills past your lips, obviously laden with tears when he focuses hard enough. 

“Of course I would, Neteyam,” you say fiercely, quietly. “I have spent so much of my life being so disgustingly in love with you when all you’ve wanted was me gone. Do you really think I’d let myself suffer at the expense of someone who would rather be alone than be forced to spend time with the likes of me.” 

You make it sound horrible. And perhaps it was, being so taken by someone who’s life mission was to sever every carefully stitched tie.

He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s coming to terms with the fact that maybe he’s been gravely mistaken this entire time. 

“So have your freedom,” you say chillingly. “I surrender.” 

He’s closing the distance between the two of you, splashing through the shallow river to root you to place, fingers wrapped tightly around your elbow. 

You snatch away from his grasp, turning so sharply, he stumbles back. The pad of your finger pokes harshly into his chest, tear-filled eyes brimming as your gaze searches his face. 

“Don’t be heartless,” you hiss. “If there is one thing I will ask of you it is to leave me alone.” 

The distance between the two of you widens as you pluck your bow and quiver nearby and rush off into the brush, leaving Neteyam in the quieting clearing to allow the weight of your words sink to his bones. 

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, watching the same spot you’d disappeared past, but the forest is beginning to glow and he should be home soon. 

The entire encounter puts him on edge as he climbs through the foliage, moving over fallen logs and blooming flora. His muscles are taut, shoulders tight as he maps the long route back home.

It’s only when a sudden crack in the distance sounds that he becomes aware of how still the forest seems around him, like there are eyes and ears watching his every move. 

A look in the sky reveals a darkening swathe of midnight, leaves gleaming from outstretched branches. As he surveys his surroundings, his ears prick, picking up the most minute of sounds, rhythmic against the dense grass. 

His hand is on his dagger in an instant, eyes wild as he holds his breath. The pulse is nearing, almost insignificant against the backdrop of nature’s call, but something isn’t right and it makes nausea stir in his stomach. 

He blinks once, twice, before something closes over his mouth and a body seems to fuse against his back. 

“It’s me.” Your voice is ragged, hushed against the shell of his ear, and he nearly melts, fingers loosening from around the hilt of his knife. 

“I–” 

“Don’t speak,” you warn. “They are near.” 

He tenses again as you move your bodies behind a curtain of green, off the trodden path. 

“There are five of them,” you whisper and he shivers something fierce. “Two down, three on foot.” 

After years of training from his father, he knows who they are. 

“How did you…why do you–” 

“You didn’t return to the village,” you hiss. 

His heart skips a beat, thrumming because even if you’d been angry at him, you’d noticed his absence. Had gone looking for him, even. He turns to face you, wants to tell you that he’d do anything to make things right, but he realizes that now’s not a good time. 

You’re pale, gravely so, a feral look in your eyes as you grasp at your left side. 

Blood. You’re bleeding. 

“What the fuck?” 

“Stop,” you breathe shakily. “Not now.” 

“________, you’re wounded!” he protests. 

You slap a hand over his mouth, golden eyes widening as you press closer to him. 

He takes the opportunity to peer over your shoulder in pursuit of an exit wound and sighs when he finds the skin still intact. 

“You’re hurt,” he tries again, grabbing the wrist clutching your side. 

You shake your head vehemently. 

“Stop it, Neteyam,” you plead hoarsely. “We need to get rid of them before they find the village.” 

You’re right, he realizes, swallowing down the lump in his throat as he notes the tremble of your lip and the furrow between your brows. 

“Okay,” he swallows, nodding hesitantly. “Okay.” 

“Near the Tree of Souls,” you tell him, knees shaky as you draw an arrow and load your bow. 

You creep forward slowly, willowy frame shielding Neteyam as you move through the forest. 

He barely notices, only sees it when you pause a moment too long, body twitching as the bow quivers in your loosening grasp. 

“________?” Neteyam’s voice is testing, closing the berth. 

Your bow lowers, fingers brushing over the wound once again. When you assess the wetness of the pads of your fingers, Neteyam’s able to get a good look at the damage. 

His eyes widen, grabbing your shoulders tightly when he sees that your eyes are drooping. 

“Wait,” he says sharply. “Don’t—”

Your bloody hand brushes his chin. 

“Make sure…make sure they are…” 

“She must rest.” 

“It will only be for a moment.” 

The words slur together, distant and muddy as your eyes flicker open to assess your surroundings. 

“Maite, you are awake.” Your mother kneels next to you, expression a picture of harrowing concern. “Oh, Eywa, I’m glad you are awake.” 

It returns in waves, like the ebb and flow of water dousing you. The enemy, in bodies like your own, ruthless to creatures both gentle and roaring. Clothed like humans with gear so imposing, you nearly shrunk with such a small bow and only enough arrows to make each shot count. 

You’d taken out two of them with shaky hands before their hailing bullets pierced the trunks of trees and left gaping holes in the leaves. One had landed, lodged its way right above the left side of your pelvis. 

It aches as you sit up, seeing the aftermath of what must have been a grisly extraction. 

“Stop, stop,” your mother says quickly, hands on your shoulders to guide you back. “You will disturb Mo’at’s work.” 

“There are more of them,” you rush. “They are–” 

“Shh, my child,” she coaxes. “They are gone.” 

It had been a horrific sight, seeing Neteyam carrying you back to the village, limp and listless, covered in the blood of multiple parties with a nearly animalistic look in his eye. 

“Where is Neteyam?” you whisper, lashes wet. 

The look on your mother’s face softens with pity, knowing, as she sees it written all over your face. 

She’d known it before and she’d known it after you approached her and your father with the request to call off the union. 

I don’t love him, you’d said, unable to meet their eyes as you confessed. Eywa’s made a mistake with us. I want to be with someone that I love.

You’d been embarrassed, wanted to save face. You didn’t want them to know that the only man you’d ever known from adolescence to young adulthood hadn’t wanted a thing to do with you. 

“I’m here.” 

Neteyam’s entering the tent with your father hot on his heels, obviously defying his wishes to leave you be. 

His forearm is wrapped in medicinal leaves, tied off with thin vine. A cut slices his brow bone, the wound still red and raw. 

“I told you–” 

Your mother shoots your father a contemptuous look before turning to you to smooth some of the hair away from your face. 

“Eywa makes no mistakes, Maite,” she whispers, gaze pleading. 

She’s on her feet, crossing the tent to meet Neteyam half way. With a comforting squeeze to his shoulder, she pushes your protesting father through the hide and suddenly the air is shrouded in silence save for your labored breathing and the weight of the eldest Sully’s gaze. 

“I thought I lost you,” Neteyam says, the tiniest inflection of trembling pricking your ears. 

You blink, watching as he stands at the end of the mat. He’s fidgeting but his eyes are searing, shaking with tears as he stares at you unblinking—like you’ll disappear between the shutter of his heavy eyelids. 

You don’t know what to say, the lump lodged in your throat far too thick for you to form coherent words around. 

Neteyam continues for the both of you. 

“I thought that I wouldn’t…that I…” 

You watch as he crumbles. 

“Wouldn’t what?” you finally ask, voice dry. 

“I thought that I wouldn’t be able to give us a chance.” 

Your jaw tenses, breaking eye contact first as you shake your head in defeat. 

“There isn’t an us,” you sigh shakily. “Said so yourself.” 

“Oh, come on,” Neteyam scoffs, voice thick with tears. “Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” you argue, clutching your injured side as it pulses with every beat of your thundering heart. 

“Don’t—don’t give up on me yet,” he whispers. “Please.” 

Your expression crumples and his face falls as you knuckle your tears away angrily. 

“You’re cruel, Neteyam. So so cruel,” you murmur. “I am ashamed that you have my heart.” 

The words are spoken with a quiet vindication that makes Neteyam feel like his nerve endings are fraying. A singular tear arcs over the swell of your cheek and an ache roots in his gut. 

“Don’t say that,” he says, throat bobbing as he swallows the emotion threatening to bubble over. “I–” 

“Neteyam.” Your father’s voice is stern, the flap of the tent flipping as he reenters. 

Neteyam bites the inside of his lip as he spares you one last glance and your resolve dissipates when the broad expanse of his back faces you. 

You’d expected Neteyam taking his leave to be some semblance of closure for the two of you, as clean of a break as you could come to terms with now that any precarious ties that bound the two of you were severed. But you hadn’t anticipated the singular ember inside of Neteyam fanning to be engulfing and all-consuming. 

“I know you’re there,” you say simply, plucking the petals and leaves from the flora to tuck into the small pouch strung across your chest. 

He’d been following you all afternoon, lingering a safe distance away, but his eyes haven’t left your healing frame and what had initially been confusion began to bleed into annoyance. 

“Pay me no mind,” he says simply, emerging from the brush with a bow and quiver.

It’s been over a week since the sky people had infiltrated your corner of the forest and Neteyam hasn’t let you leave his sight once.

From the morning eclipse to the evening’s, Neteyam’s doted on you; shearing chunks of fruit, grinding down your herbs for your treatments, rewrapping your wound under Mo’at’s careful supervision. 

You’d asked him to give you a moment of peace in the forest alone, but it wasn’t long before you scented him, heard his labored breathing as he tried to keep up with you. 

You heed his word, stonewalling his presence like he’s nothing but another leaf stretching from the trees. And for a while, a long stretch of silence surrounds the two of you as you venture deeper and deeper into the forest. 

But before you know it, each one of your steps is exchanged like for like, his looming and muscular frame eclipsing you like a shadow as you try to ignore the fact that he’s drawing nearer. 

You turn on your heel to face him just as he settles a pace away, eyes clear and golden. 

“What?” you snip, taking a step back. 

He takes a step forward. 

“You should not overexert yourself,” he replies simply. 

“And what happened to paying you no mind?” 

His fingers brush your sore wound and your gaze flits to the way his fingertips ghost over the dressing wrapped around the expanse of your lower abdomen. 

The grin he gives you has many layers. You immediately decipher something sly, coy, as he searches your face. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” he says quietly. “I want you to pay me all the mind.” 

Your expression is dry, eyes rolling as you step away from him. You’re swatting his palm away and shaking your head like a final warning. 

“You don’t get to flirt with me after all this time,” you say, blanketing the semi-tense air with a cover of finality. “And you shouldn’t. There is no longer an obligation for us to be within vicinity of each other.” 

You sound so cold, like you hadn’t spent the past decade pining after him in your own weird way. Like you hadn’t turned a blind eye when he found comfort in hopeful women despite wearing your heart on your oddly-stitched sleeve. Hadn’t been so willing to spend forever with him.

“You cannot dictate the turn of my heart,” Neteyam argues. 

The look you give him could instill fear in even the most intimidating predators. 

“You’d go to great lengths to quell a guilty conscience?” you ask. “Do not forget that forever is a long time. If nothing about our union piques your interest now, do not count on anything in the future.” 

You’re feeling for buttons to push, tender spots that will make him let up, but Neteyam isn’t easily swayed. He doesn’t know if he loves you now, but the last few weeks make certain that he will. He isn’t ashamed to admit that he’s falling fast and hard.  

“You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily, yawne.” 

The nickname makes you freeze, makes your eyes narrow as you glare up at the future olo’eyktan. 

“Don’t be insufferable, Neteyam.” 

“Duties be damned, I’ll spend every remaining moment doing right by you,” he says, fingers threading through yours so that he can bring your knuckles to his lips. 

Your heart wavers and he sees the way the curtain falls, eyes a fraction softer. 

He grins, tugging you closer. Moves your hair over your shoulder then skims his fingers along the sharpness of your jaw. 

It draws a shiver from you as you shift nervously, gaze fluttering from his eyes to the plush of his mouth. 

“Stop,” you whisper meekly. “We–”

“You’re mine, you hear me?” His voice is raw, edge melting away. “Union or no union. It’s always going to be you and me.” 

neng © 2023

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul , @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn , @fanboyluvr , @mazemymirror , @itssiaaax , @girlpostingsposts, @athenachu , @hiya-itsamber , @morks-watermelon 

[mavrintarou]

[4:44 PM] Suna Rintarou

Quickly whipped this because I'm trying to find an excuse to not go to the gym. Nothing edited. I know all I ever post about is Rin, Rin, Kiyoomi, Shinsuke, and Rin again... he was just too fitting for this. I'm really trying to expand my fantasy to the other characters.

Warning: Angst, asshole Rin, makeup smut contents .

Rintarou let out a frustrated sigh having been blocked once again. That was three times now in a row.

“Shake it off!” he heard his teammate shout.

“Suna!” Turning his head, he can see his coach signaling for him to rotate out, switching with his other teammate.

As soon as he was off the court, his coach jerked his head, indicating for him to take the empty seat beside him. “What’s going on?”

Rintarou inhales sharply, “bad day, I guess?” He knew what was going on, just didn’t want to speak of it.

“Well, turn that bad day into a good day, shake it off, everyone needs you.” His coach pats his shoulder, “do whatever you gotta do.”

EPJ Raijin lost their second set, this third game will determine their win or not.

With a towel over his head, Rin zoned out, tuning out the sound of the crowd and everything else around him. The only thing on his mind was Y/n.

Three weeks ago, they abruptly ended their casual fling.

No matter how many times he tried to convince himself that it wasn’t his fault, it was definitely, his fault.

He is a hypocrite.

He was the one who said just casual sex. No feelings.

But the moment he saw her at a table with another man he did not recognize at one of Matsumoto’s top restaurants, he lost his shit.

How dare she doll up and wear a red dress, the red dress he purchased for her to go on a date with this mother fucker.

He watched as Y/n looked at her phone, the smile on her face immediately disappeared. Rin looked down at his phone, seeing the Read underneath the photo he sent her.

Y/n glanced up, her eyes scanning the room until they met his. He arched an eyebrow at her, and she responded by tilting her head, mirroring his expression perfectly.

Bathroom. Now. He texted.

Rin didn’t need to look back to see Y/n following him shortly as he made his way to the restroom.

He tugged her into the private room, locking the door behind him. “Really?” His eyes scanned her from head to toe.

“Really,” Y/n smiled, and she gave him a spin. “Do you not like it?”

Y/n knew how to rile him up, making the green jealous monster within him wake up and flip a table.

Rin stalked towards her, noticing how her smile slowly faded as she stepped back until she hit the counter of the sink. He pressed himself against her, sandwiching her between him and the counter. His fingers trail along her jaw, “does your date know that I purchased this dress and that I’ve fucked you while you were wearing it?”

“Be careful Rintarou,” she only used his full name when she was serious, “jealousy looks good on you but some might believe you’ve developed feelings for me.”

She has become bold, voicing her feelings each day.

Rin was not oblivious. He knows this casual fling between them needs to end. He wasn’t blind to her recent advances.

How her eyes twinkle for him when he comes over.

How she holds him tighter when he’s rocking deeply inside her.

How she whispers his name with love.

How she kisses his palms before a game, giving him luck.

She is expressing her love for him in every possible way except through words. Because the moment she played that card, he would end the game.

“You’re becoming delusional, Y/n.” He gritted, his lips smirking, “I will admit I am jealous, should I show you how jealous I am?”

They glared at one another, Y/n looking deep into his eyes, searching for the man she fell in love with. Deep down, she knew her place. “Do it,” she whispered, “I dare you.”

His eyes darken and she’s flipped around in a blink of an eye. She sees in the mirror as Rin tugs her dress up, bunching it at her hips, his fingers immediately graze over the thin lacy thong, circling her clit.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, biting down on her lip to prevent herself from moaning. “Hurry, I have my date I need to get back to.”

“As you wish.”

Y/n half gasped and yelped at his hand and slapped her right ass cheek. Her thong is pushed to the side as feels his cock sliding in between her thighs.

“You’re soaked, was it me or him?” He began rocking, thrusting in between her thighs. He pulled her against him, locking an arm around her shoulder. He locked eyes with her through the mirror, “answer me.”

“You.” Y/n whispered, “you made me this wet…” she whimpered when he rolled his hips, his cock grazing against her clit. “Please… Rin…”

His teeth nips her earlobe as he reached in between them and align his cock to her pussy and slipped inside in one swift thrust. He wastes no time pounding into her from behind. Y/n’s hand comes to cover her mouth.

His groans are heavy against her ear and he hated it, hated how she made him feel. His teeth bite down on her skin, biting down hard until he can feel Y/n flitching and tightening around his cock.

Rin pulls away, satisfied by his mark, knowing it would be visible. He pauses his movement for a second, maneuvering her until she is bent forward before him. His grip on her hips tightened as he resumed his thrusts, pounding until the small bathroom echoed only of their skin slapping.

Y/n drops onto her elbow, head falling forward as her moans are muffled by her hands. He was thrusting deep inside her, triggering her orgasm faster than usual. “Ri – Rin…” she whimpered, a hand reaching behind to push against his abdomen. “Too fast…”

He gripped her wrist and thrust faster until the moment he felt her pussy flutter around his cock.

“Ah,” he groaned coming undone, pounding into her slowly yet hard with each ejaculation. His eyes suddenly widened, “fuck.”

He forgot to wear a condom.

He let go of her wrist and immediately withdrew, his cock was coated with their essence. It wasn’t a time for his cock to twitch lively again at the sight of his cum leaking down Y/n’s pussy and down her thighs.

He swore again, half turned on and half pissed off at himself.

He always wore a condom.

“Here,” he slammed a few bills on the counter, “get yourself the pill. Let’s end this.”

Rin groaned, covering his face. He was such a fucken asshole.

He glanced down at his palms, feeling disheartened by his poor performance, and was convinced that it was all because Y/n hadn’t kissed his palms before the game.

His mind flashed back to the very first time she had done it. She had come to his game, and just before it started, she called his name and took hold of his wrists. Rin looked at her confused, but she gently turned his palms upward and pressed her lips to the center of his hand. “Good luck kisses,” she whispered with a smile.

“Hey, look it’s Y/n.”

Rin’s head snapped up, and he swiftly removed the towel from his head. Before him stood Motoya, gazing towards the crowd behind Rin. In response, Rin pivoted his upper body and scanned the bustling crowd. “Where?”

“Right there!” Motoya pointed.

Rin’s gaze tracked his pointed finger until it intersected with the eyes of the pair he longed for so intensely.

As if caught in the act, she hastily concealed her face and attempted to make a swift getaway.

“Y/n!” Rin roared over the loud music and crowd chatter, chasing after her. He hopped over the barriers and ascended the stairs with determination. “Y/n!” he called out once more, steadily closing the gap between them as she weaved through the crowd.

Finally, reaching his limit, he lengthened his strides and snagged her wrist, gently drawing her into his embrace. “Stop, please don’t run,” he implored softly. His arms constricted around her, one hand tenderly cradling the back of her head. “Please don’t go,” he whispered.  

She remained tensed in his embrace and softly uttered, “you’re the one who walked away.”

“I know, I’m a fucken fool. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I left you. Please,” he pulled away, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Please come back to me, I am a mess without you. I need you, Y/n. I –” he blinks the tears back, “I’m in love with you, please come back to me, please.”  

Her eyes widen, hearing the words she longed to hear. Tears filled her pretty eyes as she closed them, letting the tears fall down her cheeks before she nodded her head.

Rin sighed in relief and hugged her once more, “thank God. I love you. I love you, Y/n. I love you so fucken much and it took walking away from you to realize I am in love with you all this time.” He leaned back to cup her face, “please, can I kiss you?”

She extended her hand to gently cup his face, drawing him down to meet her lips. Their mouths danced in a graceful, passionate exchange until they parted, both gasping for breath. Their lips inches apart, “I love… I love you too, Rin. I loved you for a long time.”

“I know, I know baby.” He pressed his lips against hers again. “I’m never letting you go again.”

Y/n nodded, “promise?”

“Yeah, promise.”

Her eyes widened and she leaned back, “Rin don’t you have a – “

“Suna! Where the fuck did you go? The third set is about to start!”

.

Rin’s mouth never once left Y/n as they stumbled into his apartment. He pulled away briefly to tug off his shirt before his mouth resumed hungrily against hers.

In the grueling third set, EPJ Raijin fought valiantly, shedding blood and sweat, and managed to secure a hard-fought victory. Finally, with the fortunate kisses pressed onto his palm by his beloved, Rin executed his spikes flawlessly, scoring nine crucial points that contributed to their triumphant win.

His hands rest on Y/n’s hips, guiding her backward towards the hall of his place and into his bedroom. He is nervous, almost shy at standing half naked before her. “I… I didn’t get to shower after the game – do you want to shower together?”

Her lips curved upward as she grabbed his hand leading him into his bathroom. She quickly stripped her clothes off and turned on the shower, looking over her shoulder, Rin stood there gawking as if he had never seen her naked before. “You coming?”

He quickly pushed down his joggers and boxers, striding into the shower with her. The water cascaded down their bodies as she reached for his body wash to spread it all over his body.

Rin caught her wrist that was lathering his chest with body wash and brought it down to his cock, he closed her hand around it. He hissed feeling his cock harden from her touch. “Y/n,” he murmured, slowly thrusting into her hand.

Y/n stepped closer, pressed her lips to his left nipple, sucking it gently and swirling her tongue around the bud. Her hand tightens around his cock as she strokes him faster.

He hissed, reaching with his other hand to find her clit, “missed this.”

“I missed this too,” Y/n squeezed his cock, pressing her thumb against the tip. She was about to drop to her knees when he stopped her.

“I need to be inside you, now.” He lifted her, her legs wrapped around his hips and arms around his neck. He easily slipped his cock inside her pussy.

For a brief moment, they savored the intimate moment of being united as one again.

Y/n leaned down and kissed him deeply and passionately, rocking her hips to meet his thrusts. “Ah!” she breaks the kiss, moaning his name. “We – we forgot a condom – again…”

Rin thrust deeper, pressing his lips to her clavicle. “I’m clean, there – there’s been no one but you…”

Y/n’s arms tighten around his shoulder and neck, her lips to his ear, “that’s not what I mean… Rin – we could risk –“

Rin is reminded of the last time he came inside of her. He is selfish but he wanted nothing more than to cum inside of her again, over again and again until he knows she is pregnant.

Y/n pregnant with his baby, he loves the thought of that.

He wanted that.

Y/n moaned loudly into his ear, “you like that?” She tightens her pussy around his cock, hearing him groan, slowing his hips. “You want to knock me up, Rin? You want me to have your baby?” He hummed, agreeing. “You want to breed me?”

“Yes. Fuck yes. I want to breed you. Cum inside you again. And again.” His nose trailed along her neck until he reached her ear, “I’m not asking Y/n, I’m going to cum inside you. I’m going to put a baby – my baby inside you.” He nipped her earlobe, fastening his thrust. He is so closed, all this promise is knocking him over the edge as he is eager to cum inside of her. “You’re mine.”

Y/n tightens her arms and legs around him, chanting, “yes! Want your baby!” Her tummy coils, tightening and her body trembles in release, cumming around his cock.

Rin pressed Y/n against the tile walls, hooking his arms behind her knees and hoisting her weight so he could pound into her pussy with the purpose to breed.

Her overstimulated pussy fluttered around his cock until he painted her womb with his cum.

Walking over to the seat built into his shower, he sits down, keeping Y/n close as she straddles his lap. They catch their breaths, gazing tiredly yet lovingly into each other’s eyes.

Y/n was about to lift herself off of him when he stopped her, “don’t, not yet.”

She relaxed around him, holding onto his shoulders. “You’re serious about baby-making?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “It sounded like in the heat of the moment talk but I’m dead serious. Were you not serious?”

Y/n threaded her fingers through his wet hair, slicking it back. “Aside from you telling me you love me and want to be with me, I want nothing more than to have your baby.” She lifts herself off, letting his flaccid cock fall limp. “But before that, let us focus on just the two of us for now.” She pressed her lips against his, “take me out on a proper date first.”

Rin grins against her lips, “a little out of order but yes, anything you want.”

. . .

E/n: When I'm writing and releasing my dirty imagination, Rin is the only one I can see getting away with this shit. He can talk about breeding any time and I'll be like... "yes daddy." Please don't be like me. Make good choices. Lol. I'm finishing up on Lord Ushijima... I'll share it soon.

@queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[vtoriacore]

Yo! It's me! I was wondering if I could request Ruggie, Idia, Riddle, and Malleus with a significant other who fights people for just breathing in their direction. Like Crowley opens his mouth and their already like "SHUT UP!" And throws chairs at people. I think the comedic potential for this is exponential

✧ alla stocatta (this chair)!

note: this is such a funny fucking concept LMFAO😭 gremlin MC agenda has gotta be my fucking fave they have the power to be so unhinged and i live for it also not proofread because it's low-key 12 am BUT. it's readable so-

characters: ruggie, idia, riddle, malleus

people who reblogged here is a special heart and a kith y'all do the most and ily 💞

♡ RUGGIE

ruggie finds it both amusing and kind of intimidating (and kinda hot but he'll die before he admits this yk) how you literally defend his honour (even when it doesn't necessarily need to be defended) but is he complaining? fuck no! 

half the time he is laughing and the other half is him cheering you on and maybe even encouraging you to do something just a little overboard (nothing that will get you into trouble, and if it does he's usually happy to take the blame) 

the first time he witnessed you literally throwing your broom at leona in joint flight class because he wouldn't stop bitching to ruggie was just about the most hilarious fucking thing he's ever seen and oh- there he goes falling off because he couldn't stop laughing (he stops when you catch him and ask if he's okay though - this mf may think he's slick but is literally reduced to a blubbering mess once he finds himself in a position considered a little too intimate with you) 

the second time he saw you trip someone up because they looked at him wrong, and your silly, sly self simply gave them the most unimpressed look you could muster with a "watch where you're going" 

the hyena was too stunned to speak 😮 no but seriously he found that both hilarious (as always) and admirable because holy shit, you did it so nonchalantly and it looked so fucking cool- he questions how he was even able to pull you (dw ruggie, you've got rizz!) 

he absolutely loves when you stand up for him for more serious stuff though, like if someone's insulting him for his status or for having to work etc. because your no-bullshit attitude actually works so well? you just casually throw a chair at the mf even daring to look at him and his heart goes ✨✨✨ all the while he's laughing and cheering you on from the sidelines. 

.

♡ IDIA

at first, idia is fucking terrified! bro is borderline crashing because how the fuck did you have the strength to haul that heavy ass cauldron at the person making a snide remark about him? he was going to say he's NEVER coming to class again but after this, he changes his mind so quick

like, you looked so badass doing that? the savannaclaw loser who tried insulting him barely got two words out and you just- oh wow! he just got the "in love" status applied to him again! 

nah but fr he is literally fucking grinning as he stares at the poor, poor fool laying on the ground and is so fucking smug about it too! 

"that was an ez no scope, didn't even have to be 360 lol'

"idia ily but what"

"it's a roundabout way of saying this bozo stood no chance, you pulled up on him too quick lmao"

at first, he is a bit concerned that you might end up in trouble with someone for doing all this but . . . yk, his money speaks for itself and if something does ever happen covering up wouldn't be too hard so he lets you do as you please

this hades-rapunzel secret love child thinks its low-key hot too, but he'll never admit it and he literally turns bright fucking pink anytime he even thinks this. you tried prying the answer out before, but he pulled out his secret trump card - fainting on you so he wouldn't have to say a thing

idia is another mf to absolutely egg you on as you cause some more chaos, it's getting to the point ortho had to warn you of nearly breaking someone's arm before you stopped. idia was just standing there, the most villainous, evil grin to have ever graced his face; "no, no! let them cook!"

.

♡ RIDDLE

riddle. fucking. FAINTS! 

he was NOT ready for that strawberry tart to end up lodged down someone's throat as you victoriously shrugged your shoulders with a "what? they had it coming."

"oh great heavens what have you- where is the decorum? what could have possibly compelled you to-" aaaaaaaand man's down!

when he awakes, he's frantically shaking your shoulders and asking why you would even think that nearly suffocating someone (not really, you pushed the tart far enough they could swallow) was appropriate 

but let me tell you, when he hears it was because they've insulted him and brought his mother into it, he low-key feels light headed and oh wow his cheeks are getting pretty warm huh? 

riddle, in his own spiteful way, actually doesn't probe you on this any longer and makes you promise that you won't do this in his vicinity again

you of course, nod along. you won't do it in his vicinity, but will be perfectly fine exacting your revenge straight after he's out of sight

when you actually end up having a . . . a chair duel. yes, he read that right. (he wasn't about to even question how that came about but nontheless) he ends up both impressed at you exploiting a loophole you've found within his statement and at the fact the person you've just beaten (both literally and figuratively) is miserably sitting on the floor apologising for giving riddle the wrong look at 12:34 AM on the 3rd of march. very specific 

riddle doesn't even chastise you for this one, he is exasperated but does actually pull you away from the scene and thanks you for defending him. this time, he makes you promise to resolve your fights for him verbally, but he won't be stopping you from this point on (it's because he doesn't want to and enjoys you standing up for him)

.

♡ MALLEUS

the student walking away from malleus makes him feel a bit bad. so naturally, to remedy this, you end up shouting at them! now they're backing away from you instead, isn't this the meaning of true love? (no)

this silly little very capable of looking after himself fae is fucking over the moon! absolutely smitten! completely in love! when you come to defend him and angrily shout at people for not treating him like a being worthy of respect and love.

he low-key debates proposing to you on the spot after you also somehow manage to get a student to apologize to him for fearing him for no good reason! he appreciates the sentiment and you caring for his well being, isn't that basically marriage already? no? he'd like to digress immediately

malleus does get a bit concerned when things get physical, not that he doesn't trust you to take care of yourself or anything but he worries that you might end up hurt. oh, did you think he'd care for the person you're fighting? or you getting in trouble? nah, he could literally BBQ anyone who even dared harm you anyway and if crowley even thought to step in, he'd soon be reconsidering because he doesn't want to end up an elaborate crow dish

however, on the occasion that you do outsmart your opponent (aka the savannaclaw student who just rolled his eyes at the dragon fae) he feels hella proud and is very amused at your antics. i mean, the way you just psychologically destroyed the fool in front of you for their comment on malleus not even being that good at magift is very sure to leave them questioning why they even bothered coming  out the womb for the rest of their life. 

he is another one that finds it low-key 😳😳😳 like damn, did you always look this badass when flipping someone off for even breathing wrong near him? sane thoughts just weren't made for malleus

[allyricas]

I love gay Eddie and bisexual awakening Steve. It's solid and popular for a reason. It works, makes a lot of sense.

But...I also love flirty-cluelessly-queer Eddie and comfortable-with-his sexuality Steve.

Eddie does flirt. With everyone. It was pretty clear he was flirting with Chrissy. He was flirting with Steve. Calling him big boy and getting up in his personal space, being all cutesy.

So, imagine Eddie just casually flirting with Steve and it doesn't mean anything to him. He's just being Eddie. He isn't even aware that it's flirting. He really considers it teasing. The man is dramatic and silly. He loves to make a scene. So "teasing" people is fun for him.

Eddie who is a super senior running a DnD club for outcasts, loves Lord of the Rings, plays in a metal band. I think Eddie is always into some sort of hyperfixation to be trying to bang chicks or dudes.

There was totally a phase were he was obsessed with folk and old country music (Woody Guthrie much). There was the Jane Austen phase (It fits, c'mon). The time he tried to learn to crochet. His lasting phase with fantasy novels. His intense love of metal music. He knows a lot about music in general. Obscure shit. Oh, those handcuffs-definitely from his magic phase. Tell me, 12 year old Eddie didn't want to be a magician. He probably did card tricks, the whole deal.

Eddie would be the kind of guy who'd spout all sorts of random knowledge. He probably has one specific time period in history he could rant about for hours.

The man has raging ADHD (takes one to know one). He's a self-professed nerd and outcast. The only thing that might be considered "cool" is that he plays in his band. But even then, he's a total nerd about it.

Eddie is hot as hell. That is undeniable. But Eddie has been too damn busy being a fucking nerd to date or hook up. I think he's so focused on his interests, it could easily not have been on his radar. Same way he's failed senior year twice in a row despite being smart as hell. The shit they are trying to teach doesn't interest him and that makes Eddie fucking struggle.

He's bouncy and hyperactive. He probably has terrible tunnel vision when he gets into a book or movie or campaign. Dating has thus far not been interesting enough especially combined with how he's treated by the people in Hawkins.

So, yeah- he flirts and teases. He thinks it's harmless fun. With Chrissy, it was a way to make her feel safe and lighten the mood. With Steve, it's a way to disarm him. It's King Steve afterall. Why not play up the metalhead freak persona. Let him think he's weird.

It isn't until Steve starts flirting back and gives Eddie butterflies that Eddie realizes this is not heterosexual behavior. And he knows a lot about that because he was accidentally flagging for a whole goddamn year. Because he wanted to look metal as fuck and thought the bandana was badass.

Steve calls Eddie princess. Calls him pretty boy. Throws in a babe. Everytime Eddie refers to him as big boy or Stevie, Steve just smirks and comes up with a new pet name that wrecks Eddie (who has no idea what is fucking going on). Throw in the boys getting high together with no inhibitions and Steve actively trying to romance him and Eddie's in a full blown sexuality crisis.

best part: Steve thinks Eddie is gay because of the bandana that he wore all year. Add in all the flirting and then Steve's really putting the moves on totally clueless Eddie. And say what you want about Steve, but he has game. I can just imagine Eddie trying to frantically figure out why all of the sudden he wants to make out with Steve "the hair" Harrington and Steve's like...aren't you gay?

(if anyone knows of steddie fics anything like this, please rec them!)

[magniloquent-raven]

I am once again plagued with thoughts that aren't 100% coherent so imma just ramble for a bit, pls gather 'round for some stuff about Billy and body image issues cuz I'm in my feels rn.

Billy spends a lot of time staring at Nancy.

Enough that Tommy's noticed and he starts ribbing him about it. "That's one thing of Steve's you might want to stay away from," bitter and pointed. Enough that Jonathan Byers gives him the stink eye whenever he's within glaring distance. Enough that a handful of the more desperate chicks still high off the fumes of his New Kid smell have started dressing like fucking librarians in hopes of catching his eye.

He doesn't give a shit about any of it, if anything the rumour mill is helping him out for once. Less work involved in keeping up appearances if everyone just assumes he isn't sleeping around because he's too busy sniffing Wheeler's granny panties.

As long as no one guesses the real reason, it's fine. It's fucking peachy. It's one silver lining in this shitstorm of a situation.

He's so tired of his eyes inevitably being drawn to her barely-there tits and tiny waist. Every time he's bored at lunch, his gaze wanders. When he's in the library pretending to study, there she fucking is, even smaller when she's hunched over a pile of cue cards.

The longer he looks at her the more sure he is that Steve will never really want him.

Steve's slept with plenty of girls. A variety of girls. He probably couldn't afford to be too picky in this shitty little town. But he's only fallen in love once. One time. The only time it mattered what he was sticking his dick in was when it was in Nancy Wheeler.

And Billy...will never be her. Not even close.

He'll only ever be a warm mouth and a convenient hand, he'll never matter.

She's flat, and thin. Willowy, narrow-shouldered. Petite. Inches shorter than him and nearly half as broad. Thin fingers and delicate wrists. She fit comfortably under Steve's arm, she could nestle safely into his side.

And it was all so fucking easy for her. She never had to try.

She never had to piss off her dad so she'd be forced to skip meals. She never did laps around her neighbourhood until she was lightheaded and doubled over, dry-heaving in someone's hedge. She was never forced to sign up for baseball as a child, poked and prodded and guilted into it because a couple shirts were starting to get tight across the stomach, and being a momma's boy was bad enough, being a fat, lazy piece of shit too was unacceptable.

He used to think he'd done well, maintaining the physique he has. He's worked hard for it. Scraping together his savings for a weight set and keeping careful track of his calorie intake and never skipping a single fucking day of exercise, hangovers and broken bones be damned. And it's fucking useful, truth be told. More than keeping away the echo of old insults bouncing around in his head, it's made flirting that much easier.

But the more he looks at Nancy Wheeler, the more he hates the things he can't change. It gets into his head. Digs in deep, leaving scars on its way down.

He thinks Steve might've noticed.

He knows Steve has heard the stupid rumours about Wheeler, and probably chalked it up to Billy being an asshole, as usual. But it's harder to explain away his sudden tendency to go extremely still whenever Steve puts his hands anywhere on his torso. A palm pressed to his chest, slipped under his shirt, or fingertips digging into his back, or a casual fucking pat on the shoulder—whatever it is, he can't help freezing up, if only for a second, a sick feeling twisting his stomach, cold and shameful and clawing at his lungs.

And then, eventually, they argue.

It's over nothing. And everything. Billy can't explain what his fucking damage is, and Steve can't stop needling in the wrong places. They scream at each other until their throats are raw and Billy leaves when his knuckles start to itch.

He cries all the way home and doesn't eat for four days. Not on purpose. Not consciously. He's just. Fucking. Busy. He's busy. He's always gotta drive Max somewhere or dodge Neil's thinly veiled threats or lock himself in his room when bile starts to bubble up in the back of his throat and his head pounds and he doesn't think about why he's snapping at everyone constantly, he just pounds back a couple beers and goes to sleep. And then it's four days later, and he's flying off the handle at Neil, too sluggish and lightheaded to see the hit coming, and...

Steve comes to see him at the hospital. He hasn't told anyone anything but they've got him hooked up to a banana bag and the nurses keep making sad eyes at him when they come to check his stitches.

He hates it, sitting around doing nothing, being closely monitored every fucking second, it make his skin crawl, and he hates it even more when Steve's standing in the doorway looking at him.

Not for the first time, he's overwhelmed wondering what exactly Steve sees.

He's a fucking mess right now. Greasy hair tangled at the back, bruises peeking out from under the collar of his gross papery hospital gown, one eye swollen shut and a dark tangle of thread holding his eyebrow together. It feels stupid to get stressed about all the shit that usually bothers him when there's so many other things to worry about, but he still finds himself shifting in place, hunching his shoulders, hiding his hands in the crooks of his elbows.

It's sort of a disaster. Worse than last time they saw each other. Billy's not in the mood for Steve's apologies and Steve's at a loss for what else to say.

They don't see each other again for months. Steve graduates. Billy avoids anywhere he thinks Steve might be, and lies awake at night haunted by stolen touches.

He catches a glimpse of Steve through the red haze of storm clouds and cold lightning, tears blurring his vision, the Mind Flayer wearing him like a suit. Their cars collide, and everything whites out for a second.

He's in the hospital again when they finally talk. Billy rolls his eyes at "We've gotta stop meeting like this," and tries not to think about last time he was here. Steve seems more than willing to ignore it. Move forward. Guess demonic possession puts some things into a different perspective.

When Billy's released from the hospital he's seventeen pounds heavier than he was a few months ago. Every time the nurses did their check-ups and put him on the scale they'd pat his elbow, smiling encouragingly, telling him how good he was doing while he watched his stomach get softer, his biceps get less defined, watched himself disappear beneath a layer of fat.

The first thing he does when he gets home is throw up.

He doesn't make it happen. It just happens. And he blames it on the meds they have him on. It's a plausible enough reason, and it means he doesn't have to interrogate the tiny spark of satisfaction he got from losing his lunch.

His second day back home Neil asks him when he's going to start exercising again. His expression is pinched. Cold. His eyes are ice chips freezing Billy's skin wherever they touch, lingering on the softness under his chin, and where the hem of his sleeve pinches his skin.

He pushes his dinner away and grits out an answer from between clenched teeth.

He doesn't need the reminder that he's gotten weak while he was trapped in a hospital bed, but Neil gives it to him anyways. Tells him all about everything he should do to get things back to normal. Push past the pain. Work harder. He tunes it out after a while, and watches grease congeal on his meatloaf.

Eddie Munson is the first person to bring up the things Billy's never known how to talk about.

They started hanging out after Billy's most recent brush with death. Billy's not sure exactly how the got here, from buying the occasional painkiller and letting the guy wax poetic about his dumb band, to spending weekends getting high together at the trailer park. But as weird things in his life go, it's barely worth questioning.

This particular conversation starts with Chrissy Cunningham.

Specifically, Eddie's massive boner for her.

Billy's been noticing it for a while. He hasn't been letting it bother him.

He hasn't.

Maybe he likes the way Eddie smiles at him when they pass a joint back and forth, lazily stretched out and wearing three less layers than usual, and maybe he thinks about closing the distance between them when Eddie offers to shotgun, but it doesn't fucking matter. Just like it doesn't matter that Steve hasn't touched him since before the Mind Flayer and things are fucking weird now that they're on speaking terms again. None of it matters, he's just a fucking idiot.

Because Steve and his new best friend Robin are attached at the hip lately and everyone can see where that's going, and Eddie won't stop talking about tiny, pretty, perfect fucking Chrissy and her stupid ponytail.

And Billy...Billy gets winded walking up the porch steps at his house now. And he pulled a muscle in his back trying to lift half the weight he used to press. And last week he burned three pairs of jeans in the backyard because he kept grabbing them out of his laundry pile, not realizing they don't fit anymore until he was struggling to pull them up past his knees.

He's lost the one thing people used to actually like about him. Never the people he wanted, he was never enough for that, but it was something. Now he's just...

Now he's just listening to a guy he likes talk about some goddamn cheerleader like she personally hung the moon just for him.

And he's drunk. They're both drunk. Eddie in a soppy, embarrassing way, with a sparkle in his eye and a flush on his cheeks, an arm across the back of the couch, outstretched far enough that the tips of his fingers almost brush Billy's shoulder.

He wants to move closer. Thinks about shuffling into Eddie's space, curling into the warmth at his side. But it twists in his guts, sours, sickens—he couldn't, he can't. And he hates himself for wanting to.

"What do you see in her?" spills out of his mouth, bitter on his tongue and sharpened by anger he has no right to feel.

She's pretty. He expects it. She's pretty, she's perfect. She's a fucking angel even though her and Eddie only know each other because she buys drugs off of him. But she can do no wrong because she looks like a little china doll with sad eyes and everyone would be devastated if a single hair on her tiny delicate head was harmed.

Eddie only looks thrown off for a second. A moment. But he shrugs it off, leans his head back against the couch cushions and grins at the ceiling. "She likes my music."

Since fucking when.

"So, what, it's just an ego stroking thing then."

"Nah, man. I mean. Like. She's got this whole good-girl thing going on, but you should see her when I pull out my guitar, it's fuckin'...magic. When she lets herself just. Live." He wiggles his fingers in the air, arms spread, then drops them back down.

Billy's heart clenches, squeezes. It hurts and he doesn't know why. "Bullshit."

"Nah, nah. Seriously. The guy she's dating is a fucking asshole. And her mom..." he trails off, and rubs his eye. "She's just got all this pressure to be perfect, act a certain way, look a certain way, be a certain way, and I hate seeing what it does to her, man. I hate it. No one should have to deal with all that. So. I dunno. I like helping her cut loose. Sorta, find herself, I guess." He cracks a crooked smile, casting a glance in Billy's direction.

And his smile drops.

"Billy?" He sits up, cautious, eyebrows up and his eyes wide.

Billy turns away, shocked into motion, wiping at his face with his sleeve. "I'm fine. Fuck off."

He didn't notice he was crying until Eddie looked at him like he'd seen a ghost.

"Yeah, obviously."

"Fuck you."

Eddie doesn't get much more out of him that night. But he starts watching Billy like a hawk after that. Checking in on him at random. Calling if they haven't seen each other in a few days. It should be irritating as fuck, and he acts like it is, but he still basks in the attention.

Doesn't hurt that it seems to annoy Steve to no end.

Especially doesn't hurt when, in a fit of apparent jealousy, Steve shoves Billy into a wall and kisses him like his life depends on it.

The hurt comes when Steve starts to unbutton Billy's shirt and Billy reflexively shoves him away, when he wants to keep going but wants it to stop and can't tell Steve either of those things because he doesn't have the words.

So he gets angry. At Steve, for pushing it, crossing lines he can't even see. But mostly at himself, because it might be easier than standing there heartbroken but he knows it's the worst thing he could do.

And at Steve, again, when the he doesn't respond the way he should. Doesn't punish Billy for doing the wrong thing, reacting wrong, being wrong. He doesn't withdraw and save himself, he tries to understand, tries to talk it out, like this is something Billy can just say out loud and it'll all be fixed.

He doesn't explain. Not that day. But he lets Steve hold him while he cries, ugly gasping sobs into the front of Steve's shirt, curled up in his lap, collapsed on the floor and tangled together. Because despite everything he's told himself, he does fit comfortably in Steve's arms.

💜tag list ppl💜 @spreckle @growup-thatbeautiful @prettyboy-like-you @suddenlyinlove

[just-a-creep-babe]

Graveyard Shift - Part 5

Eyeless Jack x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Commissioned by @salixlantana <3 Thank you luv, I hope you enjoy! <33

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

As Jack predicted, being let in once makes it infinitely easier to return

Her trust seems to grow with every passing day, every passing moment he’s in her proximity and he leaves her unscathed

The next time he approaches her at the hospital, he’s not sure if he merely imagines it, but her face almost seems to light up at the sight of him

It brings another strange kind of warmth to his chest

The girl glances around at their surroundings, as if to check if anyone’s nearby, then speaks

“Back for more?”

He hums deeply, nodding

“At this point, you might as well get your own access card,” she rolls her eyes, trying to look exasperated, but he doesn’t miss the faint smile lingering on her lips even as she says it

He snickers, the sound gravelly in his chest

“What’s the fun in that—I wouldn’t have an excuse to see you, otherwise~”

Her eyes widen in surprise, but then she tries to hide it by looking down, looking anywhere but at him

Fuck, how is she so fucking cute?

He gets the sudden urge to brush some of her hair to the side, pull his mask down and kiss her

He can practically just imagine the little whimper of surprise she’d make before slowly melting into him

He can probably make her knees weak with just a few touches

“L-listen, I get that you’re also helping people with all of this stuff I’m providing you with, but I still think it’d be easier for me to digest constantly stealing these things if I knew more about it—more about you”

She says the word stealing beneath her breath, just above a whisper, as if she’s still nervous someone might overhear

Her innocence is way too endearing

(Y/n) really expects an answer this time

A straight, honest, no-beating-around-the-bush kind of answer

The two have been, after all, steadily adjusting to one another, and it’s the least he could do after everything she’s provided for him

But when he takes a menacing step closer, she knows she’s not getting what she wants

And she realizes she might have been a tad too brave in confronting him

She’s backed into a corner once again, and this time, he rests an arm above her head, almost casually, but there’s a menacing undertone to it all as he traps her between his thick yet lean muscles

She forgets way too easily how sheerly intimidating he can be when he wants to be

He leans in, pauses, then he’s tilting his head to the side

She can hear him inhaling through his mask, and her heart nearly drops

He’s smelling her—deeply

She’s almost convinced it’s because she smells bad or something, but then his chest rumbles with a low, quiet sound of approval

Is he purring?

“(Y/n)~”

Crap

Her thighs instinctively clamp shut

Her scent

Her scent is divine

The faint perfume of her arousal clings in the air between them, and he almost has to stop himself from coaxing her legs apart to drag his fingers between them

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he warns, and the spike of fear mixing in with her aroma is utterly mouthwatering, “Don’t forget why you’re doing all of this in the first place. It’s certainly not because I gave you a choice in the matter”

She usually wouldn’t retaliate

Not when he’s so latently threatening her like this

But she understands him better now, and even though her heart’s pumping and the adrenaline rushing through her veins, she knows he won’t hurt her so readily

Or at least, she hopes not

“Why won’t you tell me? What’re you hiding?”

If he wasn’t wearing his mask right now, she’d be able to see the wide grin on his face at her flagrant bravery

“How about this, then,” he says, pushing off the wall to grant her personal space

She almost feels a twinge of longing as he does, like she misses the warmth of his body hovering so closely to hers, but she forces it down, forces herself to ignore it

“How about,” he continues, “every time you bring me something I need, or let me in when the weather’s bad, or do something—anything useful for me, I’ll answer one of your questions entirely truthfully and honestly”

“Deal”

She doesn’t think twice before accepting, but then he snickers, and she tries to keep up the brave front but it, admittedly, cracks around the edges

“But,” he adds mischievously, “in exchange, you can’t deny anything I ask of you—whether that be favors or questions or anything in between”

The girl looks at him, warily, trying to decipher what he might be planning with this kind of arrangement

Her teeth chew at her bottom lip, and the masked man tilts his head again, his chest rumbling with another chuckle

“…Well? Do you agree, little lamb?”

He offers up his hand, the dark veins a prominent contrast against his ashen skin, and the whole thing brings more cracks of doubt to her facade

But then she finally figures, fuck it

With the amount of things she’s stolen, she’s already in deep—she’d lose her job in a best-case scenario, and she doesn’t even want to think about the worst-case scenario

Honestly, she might as well get some kind of guaranteed information out of him

Besides, he’s clearly stronger, faster, and physically superior to her in every way—he could play her like a puppet regardless of whether or not she agrees

So with a nod, she releases her lip from her teeth, and meets him halfway to shake on it

She tries not to think about how much bigger his hand is compared to hers—it completely wraps around hers, completely engulfing hers in his heat

“Alright… deal,” she accepts

And, again, if he didn’t have his mask on, she’d be able to see the sharp-fanged grin curling at his lips that would maybe make her rethink the decision yet again

“Perfect~” he hums darkly

Sneaking around needles, IV drips, blood bags, pill bottles, and, really, any kind of medical supplies isn’t the easiest thing to do

But she’s grateful that he, at the very least, didn’t ask for fresh human organs this time

The memory brings an uncomfortable shiver down her spine

After letting him into her house and asking those few questions, she knows now that he’s in a similar line of work, and those organs could’ve very well been used in a life-saving transplant or something

But she isn’t gullible enough to take his word so easily—she still doubts his credibility and ulterior motives

Realistically, he could be doing anything with all the things she’s provided him with

It’s almost nauseating to think about

She blows out a breath of air to relieve some tension

Focus, she thinks, she can’t afford to get caught sneaking around

She honestly wonders why he doesn’t just do it himself, considering he blends in with the shadows like second nature

He wouldn’t have an excuse to see her, otherwise

She shivers again

She’d dismissed the love letters and gifts as a test, but that original uncertainty crawls its way back into her mind

Why her?

Why would he even be interested in her—of all people?

The memory of him standing in her entrance, dripping wet with his clothes clinging to his figure, flashes to mind

He’s so big

He’s so strong

She remembers the angle of his jawline when he lifted his mask to drink, and the faint hints of the shape of his lips when he ate that pastry

Her own mouth suddenly feels dry

What is she thinking?

She’s romanticizing her own stalker—of all things

It’s so absurd that she nearly laughs

But she quickly stops herself when, in the hallway up ahead, she catches a glimpse of a security guard walking past, doing his rounds as usual

Shit, she thinks, stopping dead in her tracks

She needs to stop overthinking and start focusing

When she eventually returns to their usual meetup spot, the room is… empty

No humanoid figure lurking in the shadows, no soulless eye sockets fixated on her, as far as she can tell

No Jack in sight

With a sigh, she places everything on a counter, then looks over everything she’s stolen, as if it could clue her in as to what he might be doing with it

Her heart’s still pounding in her chest with that rush of adrenaline from sneaking around

She presses a hand to her heart, feels her pulse—wild and irregular—and sighs again, trying to relax

She did it, it’s over for now

She hopes she’ll get more used to it if it keeps being a regular occurrence

A few seconds tick by in the quiet silence of the room, and she realizes just how much has changed over the past few months

She used to be terrified of coming into this room, she used to despise the thought of any kind of rule-breaking—much less stealing from a hospital, of all things

Whether or not she wants to admit it, this Jack guy changed her

It’s scary to think that some mysterious stranger was able to hijack her life so easily

But it’s also kind of exhilarating

Just thinking about it has her stomach doing flips

Christ—what is she thinking about again?

She shakes the thought away

Consistently working the graveyard shift means less time for a social life, and try as she might to rectify that, she’s growing increasingly lonely

Combined with her initial plan of putting some distance between her and her loved ones in order to protect them from Jack, and she’s truly developed a shrinking social circle

It’s just the loneliness, she tells herself; she’s only thinking about him this way because she’s lonely, and she hasn’t been keeping up with her friends, and her dating pool is essentially non-existent by this point

It’s not because she’s actually attracted to him, not because he’s actually breath-taking in a mystifying kind of way

Certainly not because she’s never seen a man so powerful yet so gentle, so terrifying yet alluring, so gorgeous yet—

She yelps, jumping as a pair of hands grab a hold of her

She spins around, eyes frantic and wild, expecting to have finally gotten caught red-handed

But all that’s there is a familiar figure, with that azure mask gushing that deep black liquid

She can’t see his face, but she can just imagine the shit-eating grin he has on his face

“F-fuck—Jesus! You scared the shit out of me!”

He chuckles, the sound velvety smooth as it rumbles through his chest, and (y/n) pretends to be insulted

“You know, if you actually scare me to death one day, I won’t be able to get you all of these things anymore”

She shakes her head, then continues

“And anyway, I’ve held up my part of the deal—now, it’s your turn to pay up”

He makes an open gesture with his hands, almost like a fake bow

“I’m a creature of my word; ask away~”

“Just who, exactly, are you helping with these supplies—to the point where they need this much so regularly?”

Jack takes a moment to think about her question, to think about how to answer in a way that’s least likely to scare her away

He could probably mention treating the creeps, and if he’s subtle about it, she might not get too freaked out

But then, there’s the question about his diet

The few times he’d asked for fresh organs had clearly freaked her out, and he can’t imagine she’d react well knowing that’s what he eats

He gives her a once-over, then decides she’s not ready to hear that answer

He can’t risk it

“I told you I helped people, didn’t I?” he finally responds

She huffs, folding her arms over her chest

Fuck, that’s so cute

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to get over how fucking adorable she is sometimes, especially when she’s frustrated

And especially when she’s scared

“That’s not enough information. The quantity I’ve been delivering is way more than one average person needs to heal up a few people on the rare occasion…”

She hesitates for a second, as if she’s debating whether or not she should vocalize her thoughts

He tilts his head

Say it, he wants to say

But he remains quiet, giving her the time she needs

“Are they like… criminals or something? Is that why they won’t go to regular hospitals? Or are you like… selling all this stuff on the black market or something?”

He can tell the idea makes her uncomfortable, and he can tell she doesn’t wants to believe that might be the case

If only she knew she wasn’t that far off

“I need a lot of supplies because, like myself, the people that I’m dealing with aren’t entirely… people”

He smiles bitterly beneath his mask, not that she can see it

And then he watches as she digests the information, trying to make sense of it all at once

“So, they’re, like… supernatural beings?”

He hums with a nod

“And what exactly… are they?” she asks

Another hum, this time with a shrug

“Depends,” he admits, “they’re not all the same. Some have made deals with entities beyond their comprehension, and now they pay the price, doomed to blindly follow orders for the rest of eternity”

He watches the mix of emotions on her face, then continues

“Some have died before their time, and have festered into beings of revenge. Some were born that way, others were transformed by the cruel luck of the world”

He shrugs

“Everyone has their own story”

“And… yours?” she finally asks, “You’ve barely told me anything about what you are, and how you came to be like this, and all the things that make you different from everyone else”

He smiles, endeared by her curiosity

“One question, little morsel, you had one question to ask~”

Later that night, (y/n) lies in bed, staring up at the dark ceiling, playing back the events in her head

She realizes she won’t be able to sleep if she thinks about it too much, the implications of it all, so instead, she tries to force her mind off it

She thinks about her family, and how she should reach out more often

She thinks about her friends, and how much she misses them, and how she should make more of an active effort to keep up with them

Doing both of these things might jeopardize their safety, but not talking to them is slowly driving her insane

Surely, she could find some kind of balance

She inevitably ends up thinking about her love life, lackluster and desolate as it may be

She thinks about the single person she’s been interested in, despite the odds, and the more she thinks about it, the more she really lets herself explore the idea, the more she can feel her body coming to life at the thought

She releases a shaky breath

How long had it been since she’d last taken care of her needs?

Her hands trail down her body

She needs this, she realizes, she needs relief

[writefightandflightclub]

Sugar

Grad student!Nathan Bateman x older!fem!reader

Author’s note: I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS CONCEPT TBH BUT DON’T WANT TO GIVE SPOILERS SO WARNINGS ARE NON-EXHAUSTIVE. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK I GUESS? (As ever, minors DNI, thank you!) And I blame Oscar at MEFCC in the black polo and @nowritingonthewall’s hc of young!Nathan sneaking into tech conferences for this one. (I’m imagining him as getting towards his mid twenties here.)

Word count: just a short one!

Warnings: power / wealth imbalance, and slight warning for dub-con due to this. Sexual touching (slightly public). Infidelity. Alcohol consumption (reader). As mentioned above, warnings are non-exhaustive this time to avoid spoilers. If you do need further info, however, you are welcome to DM or send an ask.

“Not touching the oysters?” Nathan asks in as suave a tone as he can muster. The only oyster he’s personally sampled, so far, is the oyster sauce at his favourite downtown take-out.

Your plate of extravagant buffet food is discarded next to you, however, as you pore over a stack of documents at the hotel bar, a martini in a tall, flared glass languishing in your free hand.

You whip your head towards Nathan and look him up and down; as though deciding whether he’s worth the time of day, or whether you should immediately summon security to remove him from your field of vision. You seem to find him relatively inoffensive, at least, and grant him permission to remain in your orbit; for now. You hum contemplatively. “Decided I’ve had my fill of vile sensations for today,” you announce in a cool, assured tone. “I had to fuck my husband this morning. Twice.”

Nathan emits a low whistle. As much as he tries to take it in his stride - to act like he’s accustomed to affluent, worldly, cut-throat women like you - he isn’t. Honestly, he’s barely accustomed to anyone at all lately, since he’s immersed himself entirely in getting his start-up off the ground.

You’re older. Older than him, at least. Older than any woman he’s been with so far, he can’t help but think. That, along with your candidness, is refreshing. You’re not all giggly and earnest and chaotic like the young women he’s met around campus - which sounds far less exhausting to him, if he’s honest.

He looks you up and down in return. And, yeah. Shit. He definitely wants to fuck you.

“He doesn’t get you off?” Nathan asks, crude and casual, as though he has any business asking. However, he’s found that a complete disregard for social norms can -oddly- sometimes pan out in his favour. Sometimes. Besides, on this occasion he has to risk it, or social norms would dictate that he shouldn’t approach you at all. At least not before he’s in possession of an invitation-only credit card, or, has made a hard-to-come by appointment via your PA at the very least.

You take a sip of your drink and eye him over the brim. He likes that move. Your eyes are full of deliciously dark amusement as you appraise him. He thinks you may even like what you see. Might even find him refreshing too. “Well. It’s not love - or anything else so impractical. It’s strictly a business arrangement,” you explain, as though you have been waiting for an opportunity to vent and no-one has actually bothered to ask you. “He pays for my lifestyle and I put out. And occassionally have to, you know, run his fucking company, attend boring conferences to schmooze his investors, and generally mask his total ineptitude.” You gesture around you vaguely. From the tiredness in your tone, it makes sense that you’re hiding out in this deserted hotel bar, Nathan thinks.

He knows fine well who your husband is too. A guy many, many years your senior. Obscenely rich fucker too. CEO and founder of a huge ass telecoms company, recently diversified into various markets across the tech world. The company is running an agressive acquisition policy, buying out start-ups and hoping to find something that sticks. The “next big thing”. It hasn’t succeeded yet. Projections look mediocre at best.

Nathan, who very much considers his innovation the “next big thing” - the only game in town - had tried to corner your husband at the end of his rather lacklustre panel. After all, he’d done his research. Had identified the highest value targets he could network with in attempts to drum up some investment. He is trying to bolster his sorely under-funded start-up… which, if he is honest, has barely even “started” at all. He knows the tech. The code. He’s a certified genius, for God’s sake. He was just a fool for thinking that that alone would be enough. Frustratingly for him, it’s the schmoozing and understanding of the cold realities of the business world he struggles with. He seems to rub people up the wrong way, for some reason. Probably because they’re all assholes. Or, maybe, because they view him as too young or too rough around the edges to know what he’s talking about. Or, most likely, because they’re uninspired bastards incapable of comprehending his world-changing vision. Maybe all of the above.

So much then, for the supposed merits of the free market and the idea that the best ideas will prosper. His idea is the best, and he’s floundering simply because his daddy can’t buy him his way in. Instead of a reliance on the strength of the product, networks and power and money and nepotism appear to be king in this world. And, Nathan possesses none of these advantages. Even with the buzz around him at his faculty, and his full ride scholarship at 17 for being a fucking genius.

Anyway, after a failed attempt to schmooze your asshole husband, Nathan had quickly put together that the guy didn’t have a goddamn clue. That you were the brains (and beauty, by the way) behind the operation, and he was likely little more than the funds.

Also, the guy definitely didn’t seem like he’d be a pleasant fuck, by any stretch.

He grimaces somewhat at the thought.

“That’s what they say isn’t it?” You take a breezy sip of your drink. “Fake it until you make it? They’re talking about orgasms, sweetheart, and my last performance paid for these shoes.” You kick out your appealing leg, your shins bare and smooth beneath your pencil skirt, and you briefly show off your shiny, black, red-soled heels.

They’re nice. Sexy, on you.

Nathan briefly wonders why you’re being so forthcoming with him, a complete stranger; but you don’t strike him as someone who gives a shit in the slightest what other people think. You also strike him as someone who can make people think whatever you want them to think. One day, he hopes to have as much power over a room as you do - and that’s for starters.

He slips into the bar stool beside you then, uninvited, and you scoff. “Are you even old enough to drink, baby face?”

He bristles at that, thick brows pinching and nods slowly, peeking at you from over the brim of his glasses, his own eyes now dancing with a subtle, dark amusement.

You’ve already turned away though. It frustrates him that he can’t entirely hold your attention.

“Nathan Bateman. Student, MIT.” You gesture to his name tag with a perfectly manicured finger, and without looking back up from your stack of documents.

Now, Nathan glumly reassesses his earlier conclusion. You are being forthcoming because it really doesn’t matter what he, specifically, thinks. Because you’ve already estimated that he’s the guy in the room with least influence. For now, at least. You’ll see. “Better to check. Especially before you start hitting on me.”

He swallows. “Is that what you think’s happening?” Shit. Do you want that to happen?

“Isn’t it?”

He’d make some dig about you flattering yourself. But he knows fine well it’s the most likely reason any hot-blooded guy would be sidling up to you. You’re hot and unobtainable; which makes you even hotter.

Nathan watches as you idly spin your wedding band around and around. He’s surprised you can even lift your arm with that rock attached. When he notices it, he wants to fuck you even more than he did before, but he definitely can’t afford you.

“Actually. I wanted to pick your brains on something. You seem the kinda person who knows a good idea when she sees one.” Unlike the other idiots at this conference who’ve refused to give him the time of day. Maybe he should reconsider his pitch.

You scoff, still not looking up at him. “Honey,” you deliver in a silken, condescending tone, which he is surprised to learn makes him half-hard in his pants. “I charge for that too, and I get the feeling I’m a little beyond your budget.”

“Call it corporate social responsibility then. Supporting the students.”

“Sweetheart. I pay someone else to do that sort of thing for me.”

“Okay.” He takes it in his stride. Wants to show he isn’t fazed by you, even if he is. “Then I guess I am hitting on you. Unless that’s gonna cost me.”

You finally turn back towards him. Look him up and down again as if to remind yourself exactly what you’re dealing with. You study his cheap suit and his mop of curls and his freshly grown-out beard, and he is surprised how exhilarating he finds it to be under your scope.

Your lips curl with subtle amusement, your gaze growing downright wolfish as you survey him.

Fucking unreal.

You look like could eat him up and spit him out. Or… you could swallow, he fantasises briefly, gaze dipping down to your plush mouth.

You do like what you’re seeing, don’t you? Are intrigued by him. Finally. He encounters someone with some good sense.

“What’s it like?” he delivers with a smirk, feeling a resurgence of his familiar confidence as he successfully holds your attention.

You eyeball his fit again. “What? Tailoring?”

He bristles at your dig, but again, aims to present an unbothered exterior. “No. I mean.” His palm waves through the air. “Being a sugar baby.”

You tut at him. “Why, are you interested in a position?”

He arcs a single, thick brow. “I could be.”

“I don’t think my husband’s recruiting. Unless you want a 60-hour a week unpaid internship with zero healthcare and no dental.”

“No. I mean that…” His tie feels awfully constrictive around his neck all of a sudden. This is a bold move but… you have to speculate to accumulate, right? “…I could be yours.”

You clearly weren’t expecting that. And, as much as you try to pass-off that you’re used to jumped-up, cocky little shits like him offering to be your sugar baby, he can plainly see it throws you for a moment. Still, you compose yourself beautifully in no time at all. “I already have one man who saps my time and comes in two minutes flat. What would make you any different, honey?”

Nathan offers you a lopsided smile, opting not to contain the dark, lust-blown gaze smouldering behind his lenses. What does he have to offer, exactly, in this scenario? He purses his lips while he thinks, and then he lands on it: “I’m… hot.”

You look him up and down again, conceding - with a tilt of your head - that his argument is at least halfway compelling. “Hmm. Do you imagine, though, that I struggle for offers from hot, younger men?”

“Not in the slightest. You’re gorgeous.” And rich. “But I think you can do better.”

“Better like you? What makes you so special?” You’re having fun with this. He can tell from the glow in your eyes and the curve of your appealing mouth.

He offers you his best smoulder. It isn’t hard - there’s an easy chemistry between the two of you, he thinks. “There are things I don’t give away for free either.”

“Well,” you ask, leaning in close to him and cupping his chin firmly in your hand as you dip your painted lips towards the shell of his ear. “If I was to take you up on your very generous offer… What pretty things would you want me to buy you with the money, baby boy?”

Fuck. You smell good.

You smell edible, and his suit pants definitely fit far less well than they did when he donned them this morning. In fact, they’re getting increasingly tight around his crotch as his arousal swells for you.

With a tight swallow dipping down his neck and a rare nervous sweat dampening his shirt, he twists to gather some documents out of his backpack. You scrape your nails down his beard as he turns out of reach, and fuck, you’re doing it for him.

Then, gathering his cool, entering the domain he is expert in and is sure of, he flips to the page on costings in his business plan, sliding it across the bar to you.

He gives you a moment to study the text. The list of the equipment, personnel, marketing budgets and so on he needs to realise his rather extensive ambitions. Then, he leans in to you in return as you pore over his plan. He dips his mouth until his beard is tickling the shell of your ear.

“This would be a good start… Mommy.”

As you look back at him with a dark, lust-laden stare, looking as hungry as he feels, he wonders if he might leave this conference with some start-up funds after all.

If this comes off, then… fuck. He hopes you are as ferocious in the bedroom as it strikes him you are in other areas.

Your head is angled towards him, your lips parted in mild surprise. Your gaze briefly dips to the tenting arousal between his legs, and he doesn’t even attempt to hide it.

He has no idea where this will lead; but that’s the fun, isn’t it? Nathan is rather fond of experiments.

A hard swallow dips down your neck and you cross your legs, pressing your thighs together as you take in the substantial swell of him.

You gather a smile, and your composure. “Your business plan looks impressive, Nathan.” His name sounds good in your mouth. He wonders how his cock might feel in there too.

You hand the documents back to him, and you quickly gather up your things, slinging your stack of documents under one arm. With the other, you reach out your hand, offering it to him to shake. He obliges. “I’m certain we could come to some sort of… arrangement.” You free a business card from the holder in your tote and slip it gracefully into his top pocket.

He’s a little disappointed it isn’t your hotel room key, if he’s honest. He’d love to work on his current… problem… right away. “When would you like to… discuss things further?” he asks, as you dangle the promise in front of him.

“You’ll have to make an appointment with my PA,” you dismiss with a smirk. However, you seem keen to guarantee that he does. You’ll be fun to play with, Nathan thinks. “Will you do that for me, Nathan?”

He thinks about it. Decides it’s a no-brainer. “Yes.”

To his surprise, you then reach your hand down towards his crotch, pausing before you touch him and allowing him opportunity to protest. He doesn’t. And so, you settle your palm over the aching bulge between his legs. The warmth of you bleeds through the fabric, and Nathan struggles not to react to the pressure you apply, managing to limit himself to a ragged intake of breath. His eyes flutter shut, lashes fanning against his cheek. When he opens them again, he half expects his glasses to have steamed up.

“Yes, what?” you purr, giving him an abrupt squeeze.

“Y-yes, Mommy,” he stutters, almost choking on his words, and with that, you look very satisfied indeed.

He wagers, from the expression on your face, that you’ll definitely be motivated to seal the deal.

You sweep out and Nathan watches your ass sway in that tight pencil skirt as you go.

Fucking unreal.

[9800sblog]

Mingi ideal type thank you!

mingi tarot reading

ideal type - personality and appearance

do I have his energy permission to do and share this reading? 6 of cups, ace of cups

this is the longest one I've ever made but bare with me, mingi is my favorite person i pay attention to him the most, so I have more information memorized.

personality

the world reversed - mingi wants someone he can take care of, someone that has one or many issues in their daily life that he can help with. shy, messy, anxious, insecure, angry, he loves those things because he wanna be the one to "save" them, help them get on their feet with strength. he doesn't want someone that is too worldly, he wants someone that wouldn't mind staying inside a lot, someone that doesn't have as hectic of a schedule as he does, someone more anti social, that don't have many friends (he literally said that he preferred quiet, anti social, nerdy girls when he was in school, he doesn't want someone with a big personality).

4 of pentacles reversed - he's said he likes jealousy and here it is, he wants someone who is extra possessive of him. he also wants someone who is curious and open to his input in their life, who isn't so defensive and stuck in their way. he's also expressed his preference for being a provider, so his ideal type is maybe someone who earns less than him and probably a stay at home partner/parent. someone he doesn't need to touch or be around physically to feel their presence. someone that knows the appropriate times to be selfish or selfless, but specially altruistic when it comes to him. someone like him, who has many different interests but when they pick something, that's it for life.

7 of wands - loyal as fuck (like the anime your name, that level of loyalty), he's probably the type to tell you you can't have any guy friends or wear a certain outfit and he wants someone who will comply easily. someone who is desired and that he needs to be possessive over, but that will literally fight every person that likes them. someone that protects him over any and everything, that takes care of him no matter what. someone incredibly confident that can stand their ground, persevering, courageous, strong and capable.

8 of wands reversed - mingi is a very shy person when he's around someone he really likes (check him meeting jongkook vs any other celebrity, for example), he wants someone that won't give up on him even if he's too slow, too nervous, giving confusing/conflicting messages, someone who will understand and stick with him even if no one else does. shyness is a trait that's present in all of these cards, this time mystery is also coming through, someone he needs to win over with time, that only he understands, someone who makes him feel proud of himself when they open up and tell him stuff (if he has someone in mind, it might be someone who speaks a different language). again, he may not be interested in those who are too energetic and do a lot in their day, someone more introverted is more comfortable and fun for him. as an entp, his ideal type is definitely introverts. 8 of wands also signify anger, irritation, mingi is someone with very strong opinions, he may want someone who can share his frustrations and hatred over specific things, or at least who won't judge him.

appearance

my sister was listening to enchanted by taylor swift in the other room when I got to this part, mingi just wants love at first sight, someone enchanting, dreamy, magical, who will leave him starstruck and shocked, as if it's meant to be.

6 of cups - he loves height difference, he may think it's cute if they look innocent and younger. very delicate and feminine. tanned/golden skin. very natural, he prefers simple, comfortable styles, soft makeup or none, and no cosmetic procedures, like someone that doesn't live in the city, down to earth. very much like rory gilmore.

the star reversed - very much a casual style, very natural, probably someone that doesn't fit the beauty standard. someone that knows how it feels to be considered unattractive, someone that's had a glowup, someone with hidden beauty (can go from messy to superstar). mingi has expressed his concerns many times, it's not surprising if he wants he wouldn't feel pressured to look like a star for, someone who wouldn't make him feel like he needs to change to be beautiful. not flashy, more conservative (mingi has called out atinys wearing showy outfits in fanmeetings before), someone that covers up and doesn't wear many accessories (just check out his outfits when he isn't filming)

page of cups reversed - he honestly does not care, he's a hopeless romantic, he loves to have rose colored glasses, as long as it's his person, he would find them beautiful and sexy no matter WHAT. he is very innocent in this matter. however, he may like legs and a flowy hair, soft and girly aesthetic (spring, flowers and water is a consistent theme in these cards). he prefers someone who has a more serious look, he's said he liked the serious and quiet kid in the back of the room. a toned down, less creative, just a very casual and comfortable style (he dresses a lot in street style and even more in the original grunge, so he's probably attracted to that too).

☆

since mingi is obsessed with anime, I thought I'd show some characters that match because it's honestly very similar and he loves to base his aesthetic on things he's seen on tv

in his head, this is him and his person

taiga & ryuuji - toradora!

komi & tadano - komi can't communicate

ponyo & sosuke - ponyo

rory and jess - gilmore girls

I could not leave this show behind

[ssentimentals]

labels {boo seungkwan}

pairing: seungkwan x fem!reader

prompt: 'i know you don't like labels so can i be your one-and-only-person?'

warnings: none, pure fluff as usual!

seungkwan smiles widely, showing off two huge bags in his hands. before you can ask what is happening and did he buy the whole store, he says: 'i wasn't sure in mood for what you'd be, so i got both salty and sweet things.'

you smile back, shaking your head. sometimes he can be so silly but in the most endearing way that makes your heart feel like it's too big for your chest. you come closer, taking a look at what's inside the bag and cheering at the sight of your favorite chips. 'you are the best! let's go?'

you already secured your favorite spot with the blanket and now when you both sit there, he feels like this is going to the best day. in all honesty, it always feels like day is going to be great if you are in it. he sits next to you, emptying the bags and grinning at your excitement. this place became a home for you two, somewhere to hide from the rest of the world and all the troubles. your friendship blossomed here - quickly and unexpectedly - and seungkwan loved to think that you two have a secret place to go to.

'no way,' you take a look at the snacks he bought and start clapping. 'those are my favorite! i love you, thanks!'

his smile falters a little at the 'i love you' part and seungkwan pretends to be busy on the phone, looking down. you are a very easy-going person and 'i love you' falls from your lips all the time: you say it to strangers who pick up things that fell from your backpack, you say it to your friends when they say goodbye, you say it to the passing dogs or cats. he loves this about you, loves how you don't hide your emotions, loves how your heart is full of love. it's just, he can't help but wonder - is there a place specifically crafted for him there? does your 'i love you' to him means something more? the desire for it to mean something more fills his entire being - he's afraid it might overflow if he won't control it.

'earth to kwannie!' you shake him awake, smiling. 'i took some card games with me, do you wanna take a look?'

'of course!' seungkwan says it a bit too loudly but you don't react.

you start explaining which games you took and he tries to pay attention, he really does but when you decide to lean on him, all of the thoughts turn into a mess. this casual way of you entering his personal space, how you don't even have to think twice or ask him - it makes his heart race knowing how comfortable and safe you feel around him. his whole face is burning and the scent of your shampoo tickles his nose; seungkwan has to physically stop himself from burying his face in your hair, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you close. you two already act like a couple without being one and he doesn't want to scare you away, not when he knows your stand in this thing. ('i don't like this whole...'boyfriend and girlfriend' thing, you know?' you said, walking with him to the cafeteria. 'i just- i don't like labels i guess? the need to call each other something when you both know how close you are and- i don't know, maybe i'm weird.'). he didn't say anything at that time but then it took seungkwan one whole week to find and read all articles on the topic of 'labels' in order to grasp what you meant and what it meant for him.

('i think she was inwardly telling me to fuck off,' he wailed loudly, leaning on vernon's shoulder. 'god, she really was, right? should i just back off?'

vernon patted his back and shared a look with seokmin who sat on the floor. 'i honestly think she just shared her thoughts,' vernon commented. 'no, seriously boo, i'm not saying that to appease you, i really think so.'

'i agree with vernon here,' seokmin voiced, nodding. 'i actually think..she's done it on purpose? like, so you would know, you know?'

'so i would know,' seungkwan repeated dumbly. 'for what?'

'for when you'll confess, idiot.' vernon rolled his eyes. 'cause you are going to confess, right? at this point i think everyone's waiting for it, including her.'

seungkwan sat up, eyes full of hope. 'you think so?'

'we know so, boo.' seokmin assured him with a gentle smile. 'it's the most natural thing ever for you two.')

natural. seungkwan watches you laugh at the way he's losing the game and thinks that a) you are beautiful, b) he can lose every single game just to hear you laugh and c) he's in too deep to back out now.

'so,' he starts, awkwardly clearing his throat. thinking that he's thirsty you immediately hand him water and he smiles, taking it. 'i wanted to-'

'wait, there's something on your mouth,' you reach out and wipe away few chips crumbs from the corner of his mouth and then sigh when you notice few spots on his t-shirt. 'i love you kwannie, but you're so sloppy sometimes.'

his breath hitches. oh dear god, here we go. 'you love me?' he asks, hating the way his voice comes off high-pitched. natural, my ass.

your eyebrows furrow and you tilt your head to the side a little. '...of course i do. even when you are such a sloppy eater.'

right. seungkwan tries to calm his racing heart and speaks slowly: 'do you have spots like this one with anyone else?' you shake your head and he continues: 'so, it's only me. and you love me even when i eat like a pig.'

you look weirded out but he doesn't blame you - he'd be weirded out too but he can't say what he wants any other way. bringing your knees to your chest, you stare at him with worried eyes. 'where this is going, boo? i don't understand.'

'you don't like labels,' seungkwan states and gives you a whiplash with the sudden change of the topics. 'right?'

'yes..' you drift off, confused. 'what this has to do with-'

'considering that information and that i am in love with you, i thought that we-' he swallows before continuing: 'i know that you don't like labels so can i be your one-and-only-person?' you blink in stupor and seungkwan thinks that if he doesn't say everything now then he might never say it: 'i mean, we are so close and you have a secret spot only with me and you love me- i mean, you say that you love me and even though you say that almost to everyone i think when you say it to me it's a bit different - i mean, i'm assuming that it means different and i really want it to be different and - i think that we can be so good together! only with your consent, of course- cause-'

'seungkwan!' you interrupt, reaching out to take his hands in yours.

'yes?' he squeaks, shutting up.

'breathe.' you let out, squeezing his hands.

seungkwan's brain comes to a halt and he exhales, not breaking eye contact with you. 'does that mean that you-'

'just breathe for now, kwannie.' you interrupt again, rolling your eyes at his behavior but not being able to hide a big forming smile on your face. 'that was some speed.'

'yeah?' he asks out of breath, still trembling with a need for your answer.

'yeah,' you chuckle. 'i think vernon raps slower than that.'

you both grin at each other at this and - seungkwan suddenly understands that you already gave him your answer. he sees it in your eyes - how they sparkle, in the way you hold his hands - steady and with all the care, in your smile - how you can't seem to stop it from forming. relief washes over him when you start caressing his skin with you thumbs, smiling gently at him. 'you know, now that your hands are in mine, i feel like the luckiest person to walk the planet.'

'oh for god's sake,' you mutter, leaning forward and hiding your face in his neck.

this time seungkwan doesn't hold back - he leans in, wraps his arm around your waist, pulls you closer and buries his face in your hair. and it feels just like he thought it would - like the most natural thing in the world. 'so how do we call each other?' he asks, squirming when you tickle him a bit. 'if girlfriend and boyfriend is not it?'

'i like the way it is right now. we don't have to change anything.'

seungkwan nods in agreement. 'you are mine and i am yours one-and-only-person,' he concludes and then looks down at you. he leans in, pecking your nose. 'i like that.'

'i like that too.'

with a startle, seungkwan realizes how easy it is. how everything is easy with you and this is how it's meant to be, natural.

a/n: boo is the cutest! come check out my other works here - nini

tag list: @smalliechelle @jaetaimjadore @yeow6n @pearlygraysky @a-wandering-stay (let me know if you want to be added!)

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Hi, love! Hope you’re well!💜

A few things. One: I appreciate you so fucking much! You’re so goddamn talented. I’m basically obsessed with your work. Two: this is my final request for Omi smut because I literally just had this thought pop up in my head that can only be brought to life by you.

You just get it!🥰

Reader and Omi are either out at a club together, or out to dinner with friends, reader is feeling a little frisky, teases/plays with him under the table, ends up eating his cum. OR this could work the other way around.

Either way, I know this is going to be immaculate as always.😘

OMG THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE; I LOVE YOU TOO. AND I LOVE THIS ASK!

Poker Face: Takeomi Akashi x Fem!Reader

wc: 433

tw: smut

masterlist

Takeomi is struggling.

"Hey, Omi," Waka calls out, smiling. "You're shit at playing poker."

He grunts - out of disregard or pleasure, he's not sure - and your hand tightens around his cock. He's trying to keep his cool, but as you work your hands around his cock, he's finding it hard to maintain his composure.

You'd disappeared ages ago, according to the guys. They'd watched you leave. But when Takeomi felt a pair of hands at his belt minutes later, he knew you crawled under the poker table - unseen, somehow - and were working him up for something a little more... rousing.

"Bet," Keizo urges him, puffing on his cigar before pulling it away from his face. Takeomi isn't sure if he should call, raise, or fold, but he jolts when your lips trace a path up his dick.

"Uh..." Takeomi resists the urge to moan. "Fold."

The game continues, and beads of sweat roll down the sides of Takeomi's face as he tries to keep himself in check. Your mouth has almost swallowed him whole, and if it weren't for the loud music and distracting images of women parading about in the den, he might be found out. But you appear to be a master of remaining undetected, and Takeomi's toes are curling so hard that he can't even see his cards properly.

Voices turn into a blur of noise as he tries to avoid anyone finding out his secret, but when his tip hits the back of your throat, he coughs to mask his whimper of pleasure.

"Fuck," he rasps, and Keizo chuckles.

"Stop smoking, and those coughs won't be so bad."

"Are you alright?" Waka wonders, frowning at Takeomi.

"Just fine," he wheezes. "Doing great."

"Are you going to go or...?"

"Oh," he hums. "Uh... fold again." When he folds, your mouth makes it nearly impossible for Takeomi to sit still. He moves his feet to ease the overwhelming sensation - he's about to cum - and he hides his face from Waka and Keizo as he feels his orgasm crest.

Another fake cough covers his urge to groan and whimper and whine. And all the while, he feels your throat constrict, then loosen, constrict, then loosen... You're swallowing every last drop.

That alone wipes Takeomi out.

You tuck his dick back into his pants, buckle his belt, then your hands disappear... and you're gone.

"I'm out," Takeomi sniffs, grabbing his chips and standing. "Need to lay down."

"Might want to zip your fly up," Keizo mentions casually as Takeomi walks away, ears flushed with embarrassment.

[melodyatlas]

for the only one bed prompt from a while back!

3 with dickjay, maybe an injured dick (his knee? :D) waking up to a jason who went out his way to get him to a safehouse and patched up. dicks totally bewildered/fighting back tears because what the fuck? i picture it a little post UTRH (ignoring bftc and bib and even their outsiders interaction) so this is their first 'meeting' since jasons Come Back

feel free to ignore/discard whichever parts of my idea you want btw no pressure LOL

Ask Game/Prompt List

dickjay!!! yessss!! i think i used most of what you said? this was super fun cause as much as i like jaydick i havent actually written for them before, hopefully i did it justice 😂❤️💙

i was smart enough to put this one under a cut after it got away from me in length lmao

Consciousness does not come quickly to Dick.

He's just so comfortable; a firm bed beneath him, a soft, vaguely familiar smell invading his senses, and a heavy warmth wrapped around him.

The only thing making this situation less than ideal is a sharp pain in his side and the twinge of his still-healing knee. It reminds him he needs to do his morning leg stretches, but surely those could wait so he can enjoy the embrace of- wait... He's on an off period in his relationships right now.

So who's arms are wrapped around him right now?

He forces his brain to actually wake up, scouring his memories for details of the night before.

His knee-brace has been slowing him down a little more than he would like to admit. And he /might/ have overestimated his flexibilty the night before because of it. He attempted a move that definitely would have worked before he was shot- but with the brace on, he can't tuck that leg as tightly as he needed to be able to in the space he was in.

It meant he didn't make it to cover as intended, getting grazed by a couple of bullets for his trouble. He would have been in real hot water had the newest Gotham rogue not chosen that moment to stroll into the fray.

And stroll he did- the Red Hood didn't seem to have a care in the world as he waltzed right into that crowded warehouse. The drug cartel that had been closing in on Dick had seemed just as surprised as he was by the addition to the fray- and his casual attitude.

It worked in Hood's favor, probably all according to his plan; the confusion it created made the perfect hole for him to announce that he was there to send a message to their boss about dealing cut drugs under his watch.

Apparently he had the whole warehouse rigged to blow and was magnanimously offering them the option of retreat before he blew the whole thing sky high.

His reputation preceded him, and most of the goons bolted at the news, the few who stayed behind arguing in favor of capturing Nightwing as their get out of jail free card getting shot in the arms or legs for their trouble.

Dick was a little surprised that Hood hadn't just outright killed them all. But the light maiming and the yelling that Nightwing was Hood's prize also worked to get the stragglers to finally run off.

Objectively, Dick /knew/ the Red Hood was Jason Todd. But seeing Hood walk up to where he was still laid up on the cold ground- hearing him tell those goons that Dick was his /prize/- it was slightly intimidating. Not that he'd ever tell Jason that.

Still, Dick knows better than to let anyone see him sweat, so he gave Hood his trademark grin even as he kept his hand on the deepest graze on his side. He's lucky it wasn't any closer to his body, no real bullet wound to worry about, but the longest one was bleeding a little more than he would've liked.

Red Hood just sighed as he looked down at Dick, "Sometimes you're really more trouble than you're worth. C'mon then, I was serious about rigging this place. We need to get clear."

He helped haul Dick up to his feet, where he immediately swayed and had to be caught in Hood's arm. Damn, as if needing to be saved wasn't embarrassing enough. He had to go and nearly faint in his arms too?

He must've lost more blood than he thought, because he did nearly pass out on Jason's shoulder- the bigger man nearly having to carry him to a nearby car. And isn't that just a slap in the face- that Jason was bigger than Dick now.

It's not even like Dick is a small man- he's not- but Jason still has a couple inches and at least 20 pounds (of what looks like pure muscle) on him.

No wonder his memory of the rest of the night is so fuzzy. Dick really had to have lost more blood than he thought. But he got what he needed from the memory- /Jason/ is the one wrapped around him.

/Jason/ is the one who crawled into bed with him after saving him from getting in over his head. After carrying him to a safehouse to patch him up.

And he did patch him up- Dick can feel the gauze wrapped around his stomach, the telltale pull of what has to be fresh stitches in his side. He swallows hard, trying to hold back his emotions at the revelation.

He hasn't actually seen Jason since he came back from the grave. He /knew/. Of course he did- he was around tangentially while Jason was taunting Bruce as the Red Hood. So it wasn't hard to find out who he was after Bruce knew.

Dick can feel out the fuzzy memory of Jason taking off the helmet last night, but suddenly he needs to see his face /now/.

So despite the ache in his knee and the pain in his side, he twists around in Jason's hold to lay face to face with him. His movement jostles Jason enough that he furrows his brow, even in his sleep, but the younger man seems to relax back into his sleep pretty quickly.

It's... overwhelming to see Jason like this. Grown. Grown so much from when he last saw him. Logically, Dick knows Jason is still only nineteeen- but he looks older than that. Years beyond what he should- he looks closer to Dick in age.

Muscle he didn't have before built up all over. Hair grown out just enough to really let his curls show. The white tuft at his forehead and long scar along his cheek stark reminders of what he went through.

Dick is reaching out before he even realizes, two fingers tracing up along the scar and then back down to where it cuts into his lips. Surprisingly, it doesn't detract from Jason's good looks at all, in fact, Dick thinks it makes him look even more handsome.

So he can be forgiven, he thinks, for being so entraced by the sight that he doesn't realize when Jason's eyes open.

"A guy could get the wrong idea, waking up to a half-naked bird touching his lips like that."

It's only his years of training that keep Dick from flinching at the new sound of Jason's voice. It sounds like him- but at the same time, it doesn't. Once again, those years twisting the image of Jason he had in his head, now at odds with the man before him.

Still, he can play this game, "You're the one who stripped me half-naked and called me a prize."

Jason just hums, nips a little at Dick's fingertips where they still rest on his lips, and then shoots him a smug little grin when Dick /does/ startle at that before joining him in smiling.

It's crazy how /easy/ this is. Laying in bed with a man he used to know, but certainly doesn't anymore. Jason's been through so much since the last time they saw each other- so has Dick, even- but he's still so comfortable with him.

It's hard to say whether or not he /should/ be this comfortable. He knows what Jason's been up to since he got back. But he also saved him. And is letting him flirt with him. Hell- he's flirting /back/.

Dick thinks he can relax into this for a little bit- let them both have something nice for once. So he doesn't let himself think too hard before leaning up to replace his fingers at Jason's lips with his own mouth.

Yeah, he can definitely let them both have this.

[rielzero]

Auvandeor

So, I made that one oc I was working on a while ago in bg3.. Wizard cambion who has an archdevil daddy. Like, The archdevil.

Auvan is Asmodeus' son and prince of hell because why the fuck not lol. In an alternative universe, where he's tadpoled somehow, things go a little different. Because this guy never leaves his father's castle otherwise.

He's heavily protected cuz uh, endless wars and Asmodeus is all powerful and he might not be.

So, in the circumstance, Zariels soldiers manage to kidnap him, he ends up on the nautiloid and gets tadpoled.

Baby boi is pissed. However, unlike most of our companions, he's too noble to give a fuck about keeping secrets like the haughty person he is.

He can hide his horns and wings, so he doesn't show those off until Lae'zel decides they're gonna fight imps together.

To which in response, he flies to a save distance before casting spells.

I do think the gith would be naturally wary of cambions, but they're not strict enemies. The only reason cambions are on the nautiloid is because it teleported into Avernus, but Auvan makes it clear he is not a fan of Zariel's men.

Hnhnhg

Some interesting things about his interactions.

-has a "You didn't ask so I didn't tell you" Attitude about most things.

-immediately outs Astarion as a vampire on their first meeting and academicly deducts that he's either a dhampir or the tadpole is giving him sunlight immunity. Insists he joins him because he wants revenge on whoevers behind the mindflayers.

-When Gale tries to one up him with the arch mage stuff he flaunts his status as the prince of hell and says he could obliterate him with a thought.

-He does not like Wyll because Wyll is heroic and unnerved by his presence since he's a cambion.

-Same for Karlach, I think she'd try to fight him on sight, they're reluctant allies.

-Neutral on Lae'zel and Shadowheart but finds their squabbles mildly entertaining and irritating. Insists they fight it out in a longwinded rant about birth right which makes both women decide it's not worth the blood.

-Auvandeor doesn't like Gale at first because he smells like divine entanglement, but is interested as soon as he hears of the orb.

-He doesn't really play by their standards of normalcy and walks around naked in camp often. (Normally this would annoy people but Auvan is nice to look at.)

-He's gay but not bothered by women seeing him naked as long as they don't see nudity as an invitation, he's just comfortable being nude casually.

-Very casual about sex, suggests a threesome to Gale and Astarion at some point, says he'll blow their minds quite literally if they're feeling up to it.

-Wizard, of course he's a bit high on himself.

-if asked why he doesn't use the daddy card, he pretty much states that he's not going to bring shame on papa's name and he can solve his own problems.

-Hates Raphael, they know each other. (They have also hatefucked in the past) Raphael is very amused by his predicament, but Auvan states if he could remove the tadpoles, he would've done it himself. Therefore there's no way Raphael can do it.

- Superiority complex. He's annoying about it sometimes.

-Clearly hasn't gotten out much. Very unfamiliar with faerun outside of books.

-Gale would be entertained by teaching him basic things like cooking.. Auvan is spoiled.

-Does not Like Mizora, does not care about Mizora. When she appears she seems to know him, but he doesn't know her. It becomes a ''who dis?'' Kind of back and forth.

-Of course, very good at demon stuff, so he could help Wyll with his contract problems easily.

-Lets Shadowheart kill Aylin purely because she is an Aasimar and he gets a yikes ew feeling when they meet her.

-Doesn't sign a deal with Raphael, just tricks him into giving him the Hammer with an IOU kinda deal. Y'know, cuz this wizard has connections.. Called nepotism.

-No Gale god, suggests Gale use the orb to become a devil instead cuz it's kind of the same just better with more freedom, Asmodeus would probably enjoy a new archdevil entering the field. Gale decides maybe godhood isn't for him.

-I don't think he romances anyone, just becomes friends with benefits with Astarion/Gale. Auvan is on the demiromantic spectrum of sorts.

-Only does ''good'' things when the party convinces him to after lots of complaining.

-To his dismay, turns into a Human or Tiefling form whenever they have to interact with crowds of people. He gets twink sized. When asked why, his cambion form is basically ''short and petite'' to the average cambion and devil.

-Helps Wyll / Karlach out when they're going back into hell because at this point he respects them. I wouldn't call them close friends, but they can get along.

Yeah. Let's be happy he's not my canon Tav. He'd be so chaotic.

If you have any questions for him, let me know.

[bokunoheronitpicker]

HC: Masaru used to be a criminal

Am I about to throw out a feral headcanon out into the ether based on three panels and two lines of dialogue?

You bet your sweet ass I am!

The basic HC is that Masaru used to be a criminal/villain and that he taught Katsuki some of the stuff he learned at the time.

If you want to see me elaborate and explain my thinking it'll be under the cut.

Okay to start off, why do I think this.

It's all based on the first panel. On Katsuki saying "Thought I told you to stop smoking! Get caught, and it'll go on my record too..."

This is not something teens think about, not even ones as ambitious and driven as Katsuki. He's 14 here. At that age police and permanent records are a distant thing. Yes you are aware they exist, that they are a thing, but you don't realize they could effect you directly, that such things could stop you from doing what you want.

Kids that age don't think something they do at the time could effect them for the rest of their lives, especially something innocuous like being near someone who smokes cigarettes. The idea that something like that could stop you from doing a job is just not something that exists at that age. Fourteen year olds don't think like this.

They just don't... unless they are told about it.

Which is where the criminal Masaru HC comes in.

My basic thinking is that Masaru too wanted to become a hero when he was younger, not much of a stretch all the kids want to be heroes when they are young in the universe, but he had a criminal record of some kind which prevented him from applying to a hero school.

I think that his first "offense" was something innocuous and stupid. Normal stuff kids get up to in their teens. Being out late, being with friends spray-painting graffiti, or even the exact same thing. He was in a group of friends, someone was smoking and some asshole cop or hero saw them and they all got a record.

Katsuki finds out about it either by over hearing him talk about it to someone else (could be something casual or could be him not getting a job over it) or Masaru might have explained this directly to Katsuki when the kid started talking about becoming a hero and being a shithead in the mean time.

Now as for what happened to Masaru after he failed to get into a hero school has to do with the whole villain label in the BNHA universe, something I will go into later on a separate post. The gist is that villain is a mystery box type label. If someone breaks the law they are labeled a villain, and if someone is a villain you have no clue what they did to become one. It's a mystery label. Did they steal? Kill? Rape? Punch someone? You don't know and if you are hiring someone why would you risk it?

So the only path left for Masaru was to become a criminal. How much he did is entirely up to you, as the only thing I have evidence of is pickpocketing.

Which brings me to the second quote that spawned this HC: "I pickpocketed 'em back so they wouldn't be blown to bits."

Katsuki pickpocketed wallets and purses mid-battle without anyone noticing... that shows he's very fucking good at it. Really fucking good. With how much of a square he actually is I do not believe he got this good stealing out on the streets.

No, I'd say Masaru trained him, since he was little probably. Probably had hero card packets or sweets (as I think Kat has a massive sweet-tooth) hidden in his pockets Kat had to steal.

You can of course add other skills Masaru trained him for. Lock picking, spacial awareness , recognizing and finding security measures, disabling or avoiding them, stuff like that, but that's nothing I have canon proof for.

Now as for why I picked Masaru over Mitsuki for the criminal background... it's mainly because of their quirks. Masaru's quirk would have allowed him to become a hero, a minor one or a sidekick. Mitsuki's quirk isn't all that useful for hero work.

This way Kat has a two parents who wanted to become heroes, but couldn't. One didn't have the quirk for it and the other wasn't allowed to. This way you have that whole thing of inherited ambitions/dreams pushing Kat even further forward.

...I can also see Mitsuki falling for criminal/bad-boy Masaru only to then beat him into a law-abiding citizen when she gets pregnant.

Anyway, that's about it for this HC of mine. I welcome questions and input and discussions and disagreements. Look after yourselves💗

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

ofmd s2e3 rewatch where i pause to jot down my thoughts and other random shit

squeezing this one in riiiiight before the next two eps drop lol. anyway these posts are about me processing these episodes and if you want to read them then that's cool too. but fair warning this is gonna be a fucking mess.

s2e1, s2e2, s2e3, s2e4, s2e5, s2e6, s2e7, s2e8

show opens on zheng leading a raid and INTERESTINGLY ENOUGH. this might be the first time we've seen a raid where like. the background music is kinda moody. and what's odd is that it has like the same level of comedically over-the-top violence and characters just having a casual conversation as like, the e5 cold open. but there's sad piano and strings doing tremolo in the background. i have no idea what this means.

god. zheng is so fucking hot.

i love olu's "no, no, sorry, bruv." and the FACE HE MAKES AFTER!!! so good

olu's a feminist

ZHENG IS SO FUCKING HOT

~champers?~ stede you are such a dork. i need to pinch ur cheeks.

yeah fuck the english!!

zheng saying "everyone's cracking down on the little guy" makes me wonder if the show is gonna do anything abt how the end of the golden age of piracy was like. a year off. which i only know from reading a few fics where the authors incorporated that into the plot. and there was the one trailer where we see zheng in jackie's bar while stede's giving everyone a speech so yknow what that might be where all this is going. big pirate battle at the end of the season, right?

another thing ive been wondering abt tho is just how much is this show gonna completely fuck with history. because like. is zheng yi sao gonna conquer the fucking caribbean. are we just going completely off the rails re: historical accuracy and inventing entire major historical events?? like crocs and pinocchio and pirates from different historical periods all existing at the same time and in the same place is one thing but if the characters like. overthrow england. then ofmd just straight-up exists in an alternate timeline at that point.

stede "the gentleman pirate kills with kindness" bonnet being so impressed with zheng is so cute to me tho

fhsjkgdhfushl oh my god when zheng snaps her fingers and stede hurries to refill drinks the other captain guy grins and flashes finger guns at stede and this is SO fucking funny to me

zheng being like "noooo it's stupid teehee" tucking her hair behind her ears ALSO very funny to me

whose job was it to make the letter N out of caviar for the title card in this episode bc it looks fantastic. got little serifs and everything

stede taking his towel duties VERY seriously and just. dropping them on zheng's desk for no reason. even olu is like "stede what the fuck are you doing"

obsessed with the running gag of stede being like "i always say that!" and other characters being like "no you fucking dont"

stede having zero impulse control and seeing the abacus and just being like "hey what the hell is this thing" and shaking it around. me too, king.

i wont lie tho part of me wonders if stede like. going overboard with towel duty and messing shit up is on purpose. like is he playing dumb so zheng lets her guard down just in case he needs her to think he's completely helpless?? bc at the end of the episode he does get one over on her and i assume it's partly bc she underestimated him. or am i just reading too much into it lol.

but idk it's weird that olu's like "ok stede zheng is busy" and stede's just like "im gonna shake this thing now teehee"

WAIT ALSO backtracking a bit. why were stede and olu shadowing zheng at the beginning of the episode. i mean olu i get, it's bc she has a crush on him (who can blame her) but what's the in-universe justification for zheng being like "yeah alright white boy u can come too"

stede's gay little run out of the room. GO GET YOUR MAN!!!!

awww the crew all look so sad at how messed up the ship is :( THAT'S THEIR HOME!!!

I KNEW THE GNOSSIENNE NO. 5 WAS GONNA KILL ME WHEN IT SHOWED UP IN S2 BUT THIS WAS TOO FUCKING MUCH. THE WAY IT TRAILS OFF AND WE JUST HEAR THE WIND ECHOING. FUCKINGGGGG CLAWING AT MY EYES

i love that there's knife stuck in the painting guy's dick. stupid gags like that never get old. also if that was izzy it's extra funny like what the fuck did he even do that for

also have we ever actually seen the outside of the door to stede's cabin like this before??? we saw those dutch guys get chased down this hallway but idk about. the door.

the crew is too busy feasting on raw bird like they're extras in a zombie film to hear stede calling for ed. love that.

the two people that the camera focuses on individually are jim and izzy. makes sense bc these are the characters who i think are gonna have the most important shit going on re: the fact that they all tried to kill ed.

stede's painfully awkward smile after "um... hi." i mean honestly tho what the fuck else do you say to walking in on this

oh shit jim was totally about to tell stede what happened tho. and then archie interrupted with "oh shit, you're stede?????"

this must be so fucking funny from archie's perspective tho. must've heard so much abt this guy and now she finally gets to meet the main character of the story she stumbled into about a third of the way through. and he's kinda just some blond guy.

stede sounds so defensive too tho when archie's like "i thought you'd be taller, charismatic, muscly" bc god that's exactly what he thinks he should be. i mean ok stede is charismatic in a very unique way but his whole e1 fantasy of having a beard and being all macho and badass was just putting all his insecurities on blast. and now archie is like "this is the guy blackbeard was so fucked up over?? really????"

shoutout to archie saying "got tired" when theyre all saying ed retired

also why was wee john in this shot. like not even just in the shot he's just sitting RIGHT behind stede listening to the whole thing. he doesn't have a single line.

stede rolling his eyes and ignoring izzy is so good. yes king dont take the bait

oh ok wee john was there so that we can see frenchie go over to him and give him a fist bump in the background while stede walks away to stare off into the distance

eddie on tha beach

piggie!

cave! remember when we were all like "CAVE KISS???? ARE THEY GONNA KISS IN THE CAVE??????" it would be funny if this is it for the cave. just off in the distance for one shot. cant actually tell if this is the cave they were posting pictures of last fall tho and idrc enough to try and figure it out

pig's name is ruthie. ed why did your subconscious name the pig ruthie.

why did ed's subconscious make hornigold tell him "open up for the cargo ship" ed your daddy issues are fucking insane

hornigold fully like rubs ed's chest for a second there. kinda a weird choice there.

"last time i saw you, you said you were gonna flay my skin and feed it back to me" man what is it with these pirates and forced autocannibalism, huh? i think getting flayed would hurt more but skin's probably easier to eat than toes so idk which i'd prefer. no i dont know why im pondering this either

smthng abt how this is ed hallucinating this whole bit where hornigold pinches his nose and force-feeds him soup is so funny to me. it's a metaphor for ed dragging himself kicking and screaming to therapy.

frenchie telling fang to stfu scjgdfchjxgk

fucking incredible line delivery from joel fry through the whole "it's quite hot, im burnin up here! should we go and get some coolin' bevvies?" bit. love it.

uhh line break

also bro auntie is dead-on about the guilt. i dont blame the crew at all for what they did but this + the whole bird-eating sequence bro. they all liked ed. they cared abt him. other than archie, they all knew him as a pretty cool person. like BRO im gonna have to make another post abt this but the trauma of like, someone you liked becoming so suicidal that he puts you in increasingly miserable situations hoping you'll snap and kill him and he keeps escalating it until you have no choice but to kill him for your own safety. but you know he was a funny and chill person before this. and you know he only did this bc he wanted to die. dude this shit is fucking heavy.

anyway cut to jimolu lol

bro what IS going on in towels. i love how stede just passes around towels for smelling. is this something people have done literally ever or is this just so we can have chloroform towels at the end of the episode

sorry i know in the last post i was sort of squinting at the bit where olu forgot how to pronounce china but the was he mispronounces eucalyptus is just so satisfying to hear i cant even be mad abt it

awwwwgh u can tell jim was scared to tell olu abt kissing archie

lmaoooo when jim says "i saw her boobs" olu's head WHIPS around and he's like "oh??" all wide-eyed dbhjgkhdfyjsk

naw im sorry this is cute. this is a cute tealoranges scene. yes it's jim telling olu abt how they hooked up with someone else but bro i LOVE relationships with this kind of comfortable discussion abt sex and abt relationships in general. i mean there's a lot more for them to talk about still but in a worse show this wouldve been a whole screaming match. instead we got jim saying "you're kinda the best friend i tell everything to" and joking about boobs and UGH. it's so cute!!!!

it's also so fucking funny tho. "i saw her boobs" "oh?? okay, nice" "both of them" "nope, too much" WHY IS THAT WHERE HE DRAWS THE LINE HFKHSGJKFKKJFHK

also when did jim see archie's boobs tho. like ok realistically they've seen each other in varying stages of undress just bc it's not that big of a ship and there's only so much privacy. but the funnier answer is that after ed kicked them out of the secret room and a few minutes later a gunshot went off (who did the rest of the crew think pulled the trigger, i wonder) and they think izzy's dead probably. and then jim and archie decided this was a good time to hook up.

wait i forgot abt the nebulous amount of time between the mutiny and stede walking in on them all eating a dead bird. who fucking knows how much time that was tho. but they could've hooked up then i guess

GNOSSIENNE NO. 5 PART 2 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO. IM SOBBING.

the song gets to play out more in this scene and ohhhh baby i missed this piano piece. also stede looks more annoyed than upset. he's just casually yoinking things out of the wall. and then he sees the ones on the ceiling and is like "really, ed?"

i think i said this in the tags of a gifset but izzy says "don't cry, bonnet" when stede's back is to him and i just think it's funny bc stede literally wasnt crying. he just looked kinda pissed off. izzy continues to not understand ed or stede even a little bit.

also i love how the music changes by just playing a minor chord and then there's like a spooky echo and then. no more background music.

i just realized izzy's crutch is literally just a mop he's holding upside down. this is funny to me for some reason

"he was a wild dog and we dealt with him like one" izzy hands racism moments

why does izzy even lie about this. why does he say "no i could never do that" when literally he did. he looked right at ed's face as jim hit it with a fucking cannonball. like. what fucking purpose does lying about this even serve. in what way does that benefit izzy. idgi

also ive heard that apparently ppl think he did this to spare stede or something but 1. why would he not want to specifically torture stede as much as possible 2. this is literally not sparing stede bc stede would spend the rest of his life scouring the entire caribbean hoping to find the island where they dropped ed.

RANDOM fucking idea tho but what if they did maroon him but it was on the island from 1x02. that wouldve been great for ed probably. get therapy from the old guy. have some coconut rum drink. chill out. oh well instead they shoved ed into a secret closet and left him there to die from a traumatic head injury.

hornigold calling ed "bro" was such a dead giveaway for me that this was a dream sequence or whatever. like from trailers and stuff i had already figured that this guy was hornigold and that he was probably a ghost or something but i think i mightve been questioning it a little bit at this point. but yeah anyway ed says "bro" and while obviously we dont know exactly what hornigold was like, he didnt sound like the kind of guy to say "bro"

i do love how hornigold's like "you worried you're insane?" and ed's just like "yeah a little bit!"

hornighost: you gotta move on or blow your brains out. or... we can make some soup. ed: yeah let's do soup.

wait stede told zheng that they marooned ed. and then zheng is like "well it's at least mutiny-adjacent" like no im pretty sure that's literally just a regular mutiny

bro rubio qian is so good at making faces

i love how ed's like "you ever thought about selling these shoes?" like who the fuck is hornigold going to sell them to. where does ed think they are.

OUGH RETURN OF ED'S HAIR ALL UP IN A BUN!!!!

ough... return of ed's trauma :(

ughughghuhguhughughgffffff every time i hear ed's voice in the bathtub scene i want to cryyyyy SOMEONE HUG THIS MAN I SWEAR TO GOD

also hornigold's mouth definitely moves in this shot where ed climbs off his body lol

hnnng... ed arm

oughuhgu and a strand of the wig came out of the bun WHY IS HE SO PRETTYYYYYYYYY

i cant believe for months i had my fingers crossed for the "person A thinks person B is dead" trope with ed hearing about the fuckery but instead i got it THE OTHER WAY AROUND. AAAAAAAAAAAHH

yo is hornigold wearing like. a flag. idk why i just noticed this but there's like a giant metal rung with rope tied through it holding his whole robe-ish situation together. is that a flag

very random thought but i love how tv shows just cut back and forth btwn plots and one plot might basically be one conversation but every time we cut back theyre in a different setting and we dont see how they got there. like the cut from stede walking in on the crew eating a bird to all of them back on zheng's ship eating soup. and now we went from ed yelling "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON" at hornighost's hut and now they're on a beach talking abt what the fuck is going on. why did they go there. who knows. doesnt matter.

ed is so fucking stressed abt being in the gravy basket. poor man is nervously playing with the big stick and trying so hard not to lose his cool.

damn he threw that stick really far tho. good arm.

im sorry but it's SO fucking funny how zheng is trying to seduce olu in this scene and she's like "whats the status of your boatmance is it... ongoing?" *unsheathes sword* like girl that's not seduction that's a full-on threat. i mean it's still hot dgmw but it's unclear what exactly you're going for here

YES STEDEY-BOY

loving the jaunty little escape music

archie and jim holding haaands

stede: you always say you have perfect aim black pete: ive never said that roach: you always say that lucius, throwing his beloved boyfriend under the bus: you said it today

buttons is so fucking loud fhjkhgyejkthfjkhg. ngl i relate tho

obsessed with the noise button makes when he slides across to the Revenge

and they use tea towels to slide over!! god stede really made the most out of his time in towels

~~

LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE how olu is the one sitting on the desk with his legs dangling and kicking during this makeout session

also obsessed with how theoretically olu could've seduced zheng out of killing the crew and it's possible that none of this was necessary

wait i literally just realized that they stole the wheel not just so that zheng couldn't follow them but bc the Revenge didnt have one lol

ugh ed's tits look so good what the hell

ed in his head instantly associates the phrase "calico jack" with someone going "WHOOHOO" at the top of their lungs

oughu FUCK i did not fucking realize this but ed is taking hornigold's presence here as confirmation that he's not loveable. earlier hornighost said "you're afraid you're unlovable" but then when he's on the cliff and he's like "you brought me here because you hate yourself" ed is like "im not loveable." ohhhhhh fuck

and then hornigold is like "and you're afraid to do anything about it. but im not" and then throws the rock off the cliff. this is the shittiest part of ed's brain calling him a pussy for not killing himself and telling him he deserves to die. fuuuuuuuuck me.

oh boy okay. ed got yanked off the cliff. stede is heading into the secret room. idk if i even have anything to say about the mermaid sequence like i cant believe this shit is real. fuck. this is a fever dream. they really just... wrote this. filmed it. put rhys darby in a fish tail. FUCK

ok the two things i have to say about this. first: the fucking flashback montage in this sequence makes me stop breathing like every single fucking time. secondly: when theyre face-to-face in ed's mermaid fantasy there's a split second where ed sort of jolts forward a tiny tiny tiny half of an inch. and i have no idea if it's intentional. but it makes me think of how in the "you wear fine things well" scene ed TOTALLY STEPS IN THINKING STEDE'S ABOUT TO KISS HIM.

WRITTEN BY ALYSSA LANE AND ALEX SHERMAN. SHOUTOUT TO THOSE GUYS.