#Bulk thank you cards

[shapenprint]

Thank You Card Printing Services | Custom Designs for Every Occasion

[tojisun]

simon grunts, his chest heaving as he palms at his chub, tracing the twitching muscle of his cock and letting out a hiss at the muted pleasure that razes through him. he shivers at the heated look you give him, your pretty eyes awash with desire, scalding as it trails down the lines of his bulk until it settles on his flesh.

“ah,” you whisper and simon nearly moans at the awe in your voice.

“s’right, baby,” he says, feeling the way he pulses underneath his low-hanging sweats. “s’all f’r you.”

there is a whine that drags itself from the base of your throat, so primal in the way it scratches your vocal cords, and simon has to fist his cock to stop himself from rutting against his palm.

“i can’t,” you whine, pouting, your eyes still trained on his groin. “‘m gonna be late for work.”

“please,” he croaks out, breathless himself. “how about jus’ the tip, love? jus’ give daddy a taste of you ‘round me, yeah?”

simon knows it is playing dirty to pull this card on you—to exploit your one weakness—but simon’s guilt is tucked underneath his stretching need, the desire bloating as it leaks past his rationality, leaving him with thinning restraints.

your sharp inhale is all the answer he needs.

he bites the inside of his cheek to tamp down the smirk dancing to the corners of his lips.

“okay,” you reply, tentative and quiet. “but just the tip, you promise?”

“swear,” simon murmurs.

like a goddamn liar.

he relishes in the squeals dripping from your parted lips, only for them to be muffled into your pillow.

he’s got you on your knees, your front all but pressed flat on the bed, your arms having lost the energy to keep yourself up as simon fucks you from the back. he’s got fistfuls of your ass, using them as sweet, sweet leverage as he manhandles your body back to his cock.

“so good f’r daddy, sweet’art,” he rumbles, his voice so deep it even sounds foreign to him. “so, so fuckin’ good, love.”

he punctuates his words with hard thrusts; drawing his cock out slowly, deliberately torturous so he can watch the way your hole grips at his cock, not wanting to let him go, before punching it back in. he doesn’t stop and keeps pushing his cock past the gummy press of your walls until his hips are pressed flush to the fat of your ass.

then, he repeats the process—sharp snaps of his hips leaving you twitching, and simon watches with a crazed giddiness as your hands uselessly scratch at the sheets as though that could tether you.

he bends forward, his bulk covering your trembling body. “such a cute darlin’ for me, lovie.” he ruts his cock along a particular sweet spot. “say ‘thank you’ to daddy?”

he hears a warbled reply from where your head is pressed to your pillow.

“hmm? wha’s ‘at?”

simon cups a hand on your forehead and carefully pulls, tipping your head up just enough that he can hear you.

he hears a hiccuped sob, then, “than’ you, daddy.”

simon giggles and presses a kiss on the back of your head. “what a good doll y’are.”

something about that makes your body tremble, spasming in his hold, and simon watches with awe as your toes curl, before he has to let go of you at the sudden tightening of your walls. his eyes go white, his ears ringing with a sharp static.

he feels so, so overwhelmed at the expanding euphoria that washes over him, lapping at the synapses from the back of his skull to the cavity of his ribs.

“you came,” simon mutters in awe, his voice passing through his teeth like a gritted hiss. “christ, lovie-”

-

[thunderon]

so i sent my friend’s mother a thank you card and for whatever reason her mother sent me back a “thank you for the thank you card” card and GIFT. so i sent back a “thank you for the thank you, thank you card” card. because im not about to be out-thanked.

well today i open up my mail and see that she sent me YET ANOTHER card in retaliation and so now i’m about to go buy stamps in bulk because this means WAR

[charliemwrites]

Woof woof grrrrrr

Content: Dub-Con, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex (reader giving)

The bar is exactly as busy as you’re hoping for when you get there. Quiet and intimate, low lights, a hum of conversation but not overwhelmingly loud. The bar is mostly full but not crowded. As luck would have it, you instantly spot a couple empty stools towards the back.

You glide across the establishment, head held high and shoulders back. Pick a seat and smooth your skirt under you to perch. The bartender comes to you instantly; you pick something sweet and fruity (delighted that it’ll match your outfit.)

It takes up until they slide it across to you — a tab opened with your card — that the insecurity starts to set in. What if no one is interested? What if Soap doesn’t show up?

You sip at your drink and pull out your phone, reading your latest book. If nothing else… at least you’re getting out? God.

“This isn’t your usual scene.”

Oh. Oh this is worse than being ignored all night and going home alone. So much worse. Just barely manage not to curse aloud as you turn to your ex.

“Justin…” you start, realize you don’t know where to go from there. “Hi.”

“It’s been a minute, huh?”

You look him up and down. Designer everything, of course, brands printed all over him. No taste, though, none of it is cohesive. You wouldn’t be caught dead at his side ever again.

“How’s your arm?”

His expression flickers, hand unconsciously going to the spot where Johnny tried to tear it off.

“Fine. Thanks.” He gives you a long look. Unfriendly. “You know people have had dogs put down for less.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, fear and anger twisting up in your stomach like hot lava. How dare he threaten your boy like that?! Wish Johnny was here now to take another chunk out of him.

“Not when people trespass on private property,” you reply coldly, eyes narrowing.

He puts his hands up, laughing awkwardly. “Well, now. I wouldn’t call it — let’s just say we’re even, yeah?”

“For that at least.”

You take another big sip of your drink. Find it empty. Make hopeful eye contact with the bartender and nod for another when they gesture questioningly. There’s a reason you love this bar.

“Right… listen, about that, luv…”

“There you are, bonnie!”

You perk up despite yourself. Says something that the creep who sexually harasses you in public is better company than your ex-fiancé. Something zings through you when you realize Soap is bigger than your Justin (hopefully in every aspect). Taller, wider, more muscular. Better jawline and prettier eyes, too.

“Tucked up back here like this,” Soap mock scolds, shouldering past Justin. You let out a little squeak as he scoops you off your barstool, hand just under your ass for a hold. “Almost didn’t see you, hen.”

“H-Hi,” you say, arms going around his neck automatically. He presses his nose to your collarbone and audibly inhales. You shiver.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he continues, voice dropping lower.

He sets you down on your stool again with a wink, then takes the stool next to yours.

“Oi, do you mind?” Justin snaps, bumped out of the way by Soap’s bulk.

“I do, actually.” The look Soap levels him is sharp, cold. Bloody killer. Instantly reminds you of all the alarm bells that normally play in your head when he’s around. “Don’t like puffed up knobs like you around my girl.”

You bite your tongue on a protest that you’re not his girl. Wouldn’t be particularly helpful right about now. You’ll correct him later.

“Your girl,” Justin scoffs. “She was mine before she was ever — hey!”

Soap’s got his fist in the front of Justin’s shirt, jerking him nearly off his feet. A few heads turn. You feel hot with embarrassment, skin prickling at so many eyes on your little trio of stupidity.

“Woah!” You yelp. “Soap!”

You grab his forearm (remind yourself not to get distracted by the muscles cording it) and lean into his line of sight. The near-murderous glint in his blue eyes softens, though there’s still an unnatural sheen to them. Something that makes the hair on the back of your head stand on end.

“Soap, let him go,” you say, quiet. “I like this bar, don’t get us kicked out… please?”

He hums, instantly drops Justin to cup his hand around the back of your neck, fingers edging into your hair. His palm feels so big and harm, a little rough with callouses. You try not to think about how easy it would be for him to manipulate your head however he wants…

“Like when you say ‘please,’ hen,” Soap purrs.

You swallow, feel your cheeks flushing as you say, “Then… you should sit down and have a drink with me. Please?”

He grins, crooked and a little mean. “Anythin’ fer you.”

He drops into his stool again like a king on his throne. You perch gingerly on your own, waving Justin away like an annoying fly. Don’t even look as he slinks off, too busy staring at Soap. Who’s… busy staring at you. As always.

“You never called,” he drawls after ordering. Whiskey, neat. The bartender sets your new drink in front of you; you start sipping to gather your thoughts and nerve. “Lucky I happened to stop in here, eh? Imagine if I’d walked past…”

You grimace a bit. A fantastic bit of luck, that. Thought you’re still not sure what type of luck.

Definitely not going to admit to him that you didn’t call on purpose, wanting plausible deniability if you did see him. As if trying to get him under your skirt by happenstance is better than calling him to do it.

“Why did you stop in here?” You ask, looking to change the subject.

“Could smell you,” he answers, eyes twinkling.

You wrinkle your nose, kick at his shin. Want to blame it on the alcohol, but you drink red wine most nights of the week. This is just… placebo and desperation.

“You’re so nasty, you know that?” You huff.

He arches his eyebrows, grins wolfishly. “Could show you how nasty I can be,” he offers.

You wrinkle your nose even as your cheeks burn. That’s exactly what you’re hoping for.

“You can’t keep talking to me like that,” you complain.

He snorts in amusement, hooking his fingers beneath your stool and tugging you closer. Until your knees are between both of his, jeans brushing against your thighs.

“Here’s the thing, darlin’,” he murmurs, low and private. “I think you like when I talk to you like that.”

You swallow audibly, hands dropping down to twist nervously in your lap.

“I think it makes your pretty pussy all wet and swollen when I get all mean like this,” he continues. You shake your head; his palm clamps down on your thigh beneath your skirt, thumb sweeping back and forth over the sensitive skin. “Think she’s fuckin’ aching fer me to make good on all my promises. And you can get all shy and sweet here, but I bet all your cunt wants is to be mounted and bred like a bitch in heat.”

And he’s right. Of course he’s fucking right. That goddamn bad guy fantasy and your shallow, needy pussy, and Soap’s stupid fucking everything.

You feel like you’re about to explode when the bartender sets his whiskey down, snapping the tension like a rubber band. Feel dizzy as you lean away, sipping desperately at your own drink in an attempt to cool off. He gives you all over maybe fifteen second before opening that sinful mouth again.

��So how about it, bonnie? Did I hit the mark?”

You feel frustrated tears pricking at your eyes. Blink and look away at your nervous hands.

“I-I don’t even know you,” you mutter. “You could be dangerous.”

“I am dangerous, baby,” he replies, “just not to you.”

You shake your head. “You’re awful.”

“Mm and you want me to do awful things to you.”

You sigh through your nose, that little logical voice blaring again. He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to use you.

(Would that be so bad, if you go in knowing it?)

A tug at your necklace startles you out of your thoughts, his finger hooked beneath the pendant. You lean in with a noise of protest, afraid he’s going to break it. Gasp as your lips brush his.

“Whatever’s goin’ on in that pretty head, let me fuck it out of you.”

You shudder, hand balanced on his thick, muscular thigh. Can feel a twitch near your thumb. Holy shit.

“I’ll be so good to you, princess,” he promises. “Let me be good to you.”

You suck in a breath. Now or never.

Well, if nothing else, maybe you’ll let Johnny eat him if he’s turns out to be a bastard.

“Prove it,” you breathe.

He guides your chin up, eyes blazing with hunger.

“Yeah?” He asks.

You blink, muster up your courage. “You heard me. Or are you back out?”

His expression goes deliciously dark. “Oh, I’ll prove it, lass. You just sit right here and I’ll get us sorted.”

His fingers slip just that last little bit up and start teasing at the lace of your panties. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to sip at your cocktail while he flags down the bartender. His nails scrape lightly across the fabric over your clit as gets your card and throws down enough cash to cover all three drinks.

When he pulls his hand away, you have to bite back a whimper.

“If you don’t get up right now, I’m haulin’ you out of here over my shoulder,” he growls in your ear.

You’re up in an instant, smoothing down your skirt. His hand stays glued to your lower back as he ushers you out to the lot. Sits you down in the passenger seat of a black pickup, barely waits for you to buckle yourself in before peeling out of the lot.

You’re about to tell him your address when you hear the clink of a belt, a zipper. Eyes wide as they drop to his pants, to him fishing a huge, hard cock out of jeans.

“C’mere,” he near snarls.

“Soap, that’s not— mph!”

The head of his cock catches on your teeth, but that only seems to spur him on, hips twitching.

“Gonna ruin that pretty makeup, your pretty hair. Gettin’ all dolled up like that for any fucking wanker to see.”

He twists his fingers in your hair and presses you down, your cheek rubbing against the shaft. He feels huge and unnaturally hot. You press your thighs together as you imagine how it’s going to feel inside of you.

“This isn’t safe,” you complain, mouth open as you gasp against the flushed skin.

He curses, tugs you up so that your lips press against the head, already dripping. Your eyes widen in the darkness, shocked and flattered that you’ve already worked him up this much.

“Not gonnae let anything happen,” he promises, “but you need to convince me not to spank this pretty ass black and blue.”

You squeal as he releases you hair just to deliver a harsh smack to one ass cheek, the sting making you clench up.

“H-hey!”

“You want me to slap that pretty pussy too? Bet I could make you cum just tapping that little clit over and over again. That what you want, slag?”

“N-no!”

“Then show me.”

You seal your mouth around the head, sucking and licking at the precum beading at the tip. Try to brace yourself, nearly gag as he hits a pothole and shoves into your throat. It’s noisy and messy, eyes watering from how thick and deep he is already, not letting you up for more than brief gasps of air.

“Fuck, that’s it baby. Work your tongue just like that…” he groans.

You lose track of everything but trying not to gag, his threat lingering with each obscene slurp and twist of your tongue. He tastes better than you expected, and the scent of him surrounds you. Musk and pine, something familiar that niggles at your cock-drunk brain. Can’t be bothered to work it out though, not when he’s tugging your hair. Not when he comes to an abrupt stop and you deepthroat him.

He yanks you off with a near-animal growl. You whine, scrambling to brace yourself and panting. Your head feels foggy. Know your panties are soaked through; shocked you’re not dripping down your leg. If you were sitting properly, you’d probably leave a wet mark on the seat.

You moan as his mouth crashes into yours, tongue sweeping inside like he owns it. He licks the taste of himself off your tongue, hands fumbling your seatbelt off, dragging you over the center console to straddle his lap.

You gasp at the sight of his rock hard, angry cock next to your pretty dress, pressed up against your stomach. Show just how deep he’ll be inside your guts.

“Fuck, look’it that,” he groans rutting against your stomach. “Oh you were made to be mine.”

You scream as he scoops you up, stepping out of the truck with you over his shoulder.

“Soap!” You shout. “Soap, put me down, my dog—”

“I’m your fuckin’ dog,” he replies.

“No, seriously, he’s protective—”

He grabs the spare out of its hiding place and shoves the door open. You brace for angry barking and growls, but hear nothing. Soap doesn’t even pause. He just kicks the door shut and storms down the hall to your room, like he knows exactly where he’s going.

He drops you onto the bed, watches your breasts bounce as you settle on the mattress. He strips off int he blink of any eyes while you’re still catching your breath.

“W-wait, wait, my—”

He flips you onto your stomach, hikes your ass up high in the air. You squirm, try to crawl away, but he slaps your ass so hard you see stars. He places his palm flat between your shoulder blades to bin you still.

“S-Soap,” you whine as he shoves your skirt up over your ass, palms a cheek. Spreads you open just to let the flesh jiggle back into place.

“Fuck,” he growls. It sounds off. Sounds deeper, rougher now.

“Just-just slow down…!”

He yanks your panties aside, plunges two thick fingers into you. You squeal, legs kicking uselessly against the mattress.

“Oh, you’re plenty ready,” he says, dark, almost to himself. “All ready to be mated and bred. All mine.”

That finally starts to break the lust-drunk haze. Open your mouth to tell him absolutely not, it’s been way to long and your need to be stretched—

He forces his entire cock into you with one brutal thrust. You scream, cry, try to flatten yourself against the bed but he won’t even let you do that, muttering about “presenting” properly. It hurts but it feels good, know that’s it’s just too much.

“Soap,” you sob, “y-you can’t— you have to… I’m-I’m gonna break.”

“Shhhh, no you’re not,” he soothes, grinding a bit deeper. Your eyes roll back, keening through your teeth. “You were made for me. You’re all for me.”

You shake your head, but he just chuckles.

“Yes, baby, yes. You let me in, you kept me. Now we belong to each other.”

“Soap, w-what are you talking about…?” you manage, fists tight in the sheets. He draws back once and slams into you, hard, mean.

Leans down so he’s rumbling directly in your ear.“‘S Johnny, hen.”

You blink, confused and overwhelmed. “W-what… n-no. No, Johnny is my….”

“Woof.”

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Masterlist

[shellxrls]

i need to be sarah’s cutesy sabrina carpenter espresso baby best friend who fucks her on the dl and also fucking her brother🤫

a/n: anon u ate with this ask cuz i love this song soo much, and i loveee the idea of rafe being beyond pussy whipped all for his gf to be more in love w his sister than him.

warnings: male receiving oral (mxf), cum swallowing, female receiving oral (fxf), cheating, NO INCEST at all they fuck at completely separate times.

🍒🍒 🍒

you’d often find yourself one of two places on the daily, ironically they were both situated in the same house: laying prey to the skilled fingers of sarah cameron in a fuzzy orgasm-drunk haze, or clinging all cutesy onto rafe cameron’s arm as he works away in his office — maybe sucking his dick under the desk if you were painfully eager.

at current moment, you were coddled next to rafe, pointing at an assortment of glittery bags on your phone screen and singling out the ones you wanted the most — or rather, the ones you didn’t want, considering the order you were about to place was essentially the bulk of the entire website.

“rafee, card please,” you tap him on the shoulder and urge him to rummage through his wallet, pulling out a black card before handing it to you and briefly glancing at your cart as you completed the transaction.

“gonna return the favour for me baby?” he mutters distractedly, eyeing some documents but letting his left hand wander to your thigh.

“course rafe, just wish you weren’t working all the time,” you pout, dragging his hand further into the crease of your thighs and rocking slightly on the chair, “otherwise i could return it now.”

he stills, dropping his pen and rubbing out a crease on his forehead with his free hand before turning to you, “mhm, under the desk princess, i can take a quick break.”

you beam, having successfully captured his attention, and crawl beneath him to begin unzipping his work slacks.

eager-mouthed you attempt to swallow him entirely on your first suck, lubing his entire shaft as tendrils of saliva dripped from your open mouth all the way down to his balls, stringing messily.

“fuck that’s good, now what do you say?”

“thank you rafe,” you force out through your stuffed mouth, eyes glimmering up at him in cat-like excitement while he looked down on you with nothing short of hypnotism, eyes glazed over with want.

it’s not long before he’s cumming down you’re throat in spurts, fisting your hair to force your head down further and making you swallow it so his office isn’t left messy.

he taps your cheek once he finishes, murmuring something about how good you did before quickly being reoccupied with his documents, sending you out with a firm slap on your ass lest you distract him any further.

you find yourself easily wondering into sarah’s bedroom, not bothering to knock and diving straight down onto her bed next to her, “was rafe boring you?” she questions with an edge of sarcasm.

you swallow, slightly guilty considering you did come in here to get release after sucking rafe off left you painfully wet, “something like that,” you trail off for a second before redirecting the conversation, “and anyways, i just missed you, haven’t seen my girl in a while.”

she smiles at that, leaning over you and pushing you into the bed frame with a kiss, her lips were always much sweeter than rafe’s, you’d always end up borderline inhaling off the flavoured chapstick she so regularly applies.

“missed you too,” she grins against your mouth, wasting no time in swiftly removing her shirt, then yours too.

kissing down your clavicle, she grabs the buckle of your jeans and pulls you onto her, humping you slightly against her leg.

you keen into the air, clinging onto one of her hands and bucking you body back into her, “shit sarah.”

she laughs lightly, the sound creating a hum against your pelvis while she works off your pants and leaves you naked underneath her, pussy glistening in her face

“you really did miss me huh?” she bites her lip almost awestruck and meets eyes with you before nudging her nose into your clit, cashing the nerves to twitch against her face.

she laps at your soaking entrance slowly, nose bumping your clit with every lick and making you squirm underneath her, your stomach pulsing in drawn out pleasure.

“mmh please sare — more,” you whimper, pushing your hips outward and forcing her face in deeper, tongue probing at your hole while she introduces two fingers to your clit in tight circles.

she tongue fucks you for a while before moving back onto your clit, sucking on the nerves and redirecting her two fingers inside of you, curling aggressively while you mewled and your whole body tensed up.

when you finally cum she eagerly mouths it all, rising from between your legs hot in the face with her mouth and chin all dampened due to slick.

you giggle looking down at her, pulling on the strap of her bra so she could meet you with a kiss, all the while thinking about how pissed rafe would be if he ever found out.

🍒🍒 🍒

[15ch795]

I wonder what I should ask for for Xmas

[dovesndecay]

It's June! It's Pride! It's (my) Birthday!

The Introduction Spiel:

Hi, I'm Reyah! (any pronouns! no really, go for it!) On June 21st, I'm turning 32, an exciting and mysterious age to be!! (So I've heard)

Warning: This is a post asking for financial help, and if there's one thing I would ask is that if you read the whole thing: please reblog.

I'm a multiply-disabled queer person of color, a writer, artist, and photographer. I live with three of my best-good-pal-friends, (@renthony, @kryptidkhaos, and @natalieironside) and our collective army of pets.

We all know it's damned hard to be all these things at the same time under the capitalistic hellscape we're living under, and we/I am always in need of a lot of help with the existing.

I ended the month of May with some smaller bills left still to pay, but am thankful to say that June already had fewer bills than usual due, and the amount I need to start the summer off right is actually less than I was afraid it would be! Woohoo!

What I Make

I mentioned my artistic endeavors, let me show you them!!

Writing

I write less often than I'd like, but I share poetry and shorts, when I have them, on my Patreon!

You must be over 18 to pledge, as I have, can, and will again share Adult Content occasionally. Patrons pledging at least $1/month get access to all content. But most posts becomes free to access eventually. :)

When I do longer form content, I primarily write fantasy with a focus on queer brown characters with disabilities, mental illnesses, and disordered attachments. Because therapy is expensive, and writing is free.

Photography

I do wildlife and landscape photography, primarily, but you can also check out my portrait and event work on my website! You can purchase PRINTS HERE.

And because it's my birthday, I'm offering a 32% discount code for all my prints! The code is good from June 1st to July 1st!

A Note, if you purchase a print: first off: thank you. (please feel free to send a photo of wherever you display it!!!) secondly: this will not go towards the received totals on my financial need because Pixels doesn't pay out until nearly 2 months after the purchase. Funds made from sales will go towards future needs.

CODE: PDHHTR

Artwork

I've been exploring art, both analog and digital, a lot more lately, and have shared both process photos and final drafts on Patreon! Here are just a few examples:

I admittedly don't post on patreon as much as I wish I had the energy to, but I try to make at least one thing a month, provided I have the spoons and time.

Creativity is, like, a level 5 spell slot when you're disabled and impoverished, and I appear to have exactly One (1) of those available at any given time.

The Needs:

The Bills: $1,100

Yeah, we had to get here eventually. Since this post is already pretty long, I'm putting the rest under a cut.

More than half of this, as always, is just for the car payment and insurance that keeps the regular day-job-haver getting to said job, and all our medical appointments, errands, etc.

I still owe around $13,000 total on Johnny Car, but I think we all know that's just not a real number.

The rest of the funds would go toward paying the small subscriptions, for my various medications, and the regular attempts to whittle away slowly at the $4,300 worth of other debt.

($2,200 of back taxes, and $2,100 of credit card debt, and gods, do I mean slowly. Interest piles up so much faster than I can seem to whittle.)

If you're able and willing to help with paying the bills, direct donations can be made here:

PayPal | (link)

Venmo | (dovesndecay)

Cashapp | ($dovesndecay)

If you can, and only if you can.

The It Would Be Cools:

Since every dime that comes in goes primarily towards food and bills, there's little left afterward to be put towards other life necessities like clothes, toiletries, let alone things I just think would be nice/neat/nifty to have.

I have a High Priority wishlist. It's mostly art supplies, bulk toiletries, etc.

I'm woefully low on clothes, being short, fat, and trans, so very little of what I own actually feels good to wear so much as it simply covers my body. I have a wishlist of clothes that would be nice to have.

For everything that firmly lands under the "I just want it" category, I have an Enrichment list. It's mostly stuffies, but also games, room decor, hobby supplies, books, and stim toys.

Our household keeps a big wishlist for things we need, want, groceries, accessibility products, and everything in-between.

Okay, now what?

Well, now, I'm gonna ask that if you got to this point, and if you can't/don't want to do any of the things listed above, then please reblog this post.

The more people that reblog it, the more likely I'm able to pay my bills for one more month this year.

But if you don't, it's not like anyone's gonna know. I'm not omniscient, I swear.

Anyway, I don't expect anyone to do anything if you can't or even if you just don't wanna, but if you can and you're willing to, it means the world.

I didn't think this is where I'd be at 32. But I never really expected to get here at all in the end, and it's a lot nicer than I thought it would be. Mostly because I am surrounded by amazing people who have the capacity to be so much kinder than I will ever have the words to describe.

Thank you, and to all, a happy pride!

🧡💛💚💙💜🤎🖤

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 160 }

within your embrace.

no curses | college au

megumi fushiguro x fem.reader

when megumi spent the whole day without receiving a single text or call from you-

the young man knew that something was completely amiss within the universe. ever since he began dating you 3 years ago, your presence always remained the one stable part of his life.

sure, megumi would feign annoyance each time you would shoot him a good morning text, but little did you know, his smile would remain so wide and bright each time he looks down at the screen while reading your text over and over again.

and during those long nights where megumi had to pull an all-nighter writing papers, or studying for those last minute exams, he deeply cherished your calls while attempting to keep him company (not even minding when you ended up falling asleep in the process).

so the fact that he had to spend nearly 21 hours without any contact with you-

megumi knew that he had to act fast.

he looks at the time on his phone, with the time nearing 10pm. if he made a run for the closest convenience store, then he would be able to buy all of your favorite snacks and food before heading to your apartment. not wishing to waste even another second, megumi exits his dorm with his wallet and keys in hand.

megumi reaches his car, pulling out his phone from the confines of his jeans, getting into his car while dialing your number. he keeps his phone pressed against his ear even as he drove to the nearest convenience store. and at the tenth ring, your voicemail was heard echoing within his ear.

{ sorry, i can't get to the phone right now. how about you leave a message, and i'll get back to you later? byyyyye! }

"i'm coming over, you better be ready for me." megumi states while clicking his tongue, hanging up the phone while trying to fight back the anxiety that threatens to take over his mind.

please for the love of god, be okay!

megumi tosses aside his phone on his passenger seat, parking haphazardly when he reaches the store and kills his engine. as if he were running on autopilot, he stiffly gets out of the car and heads directly toward the brightly lit building, grabbing a basket while filling it with all of your favorite things.

from snacks, to candies, even ice cream and a variety of sodas-

megumi did not hesitate to buy all of your favorite items in bulk for you, adding your favorite bento boxed meal into the basket before proceeding to pay for it all.

when he dumps all of the food and snacks onto the cash register, the cashier lets out a low whistle while ringing it all up. "what's all this? you got a heavy study session tonight?"

megumi shakes his head while running a hand through his hair. "no, i'm worried about my girlfriend. she hasn't been picking up her phone, and whenever i text her, she leaves me on read."

the cashier hums, now bagging all of the items. "you got into a bad argument with her?"

"hell no. we've been fine. but she did start working recently-"

megumi's eyes widen with realization now. the cashier seems to realize his epiphany while grinning at him, handing him the bags filled with snacks and food. she tells him the total as megumi pays for it all with his card, and after waiting a few seconds for the transaction to go through, he takes out his card from the reader and grabs the bags.

"thanks..."

"go get her, dude!" the cashier calls out to him just as he leaves the convenience store, placing all of the food within the backseat before returning to the driver's seat.

feeling a little more relaxed and confident in your reasoning for not contacting him today, megumi arrives at your apartment and parks in a random corner, taking all of the bags while making his way up to you. he takes the stairs two at a time, all too eager to see you again.

a few minutes later, he stands in front of your door while giving it several loud knocks. "oi, dummy, you better open the door!"

megumi hears what sounds like a gasp coupled along with some shuffling. after waiting a few beats, the door opens, revealing you as you had to be in the most pathetic state of your life.

your eyes were still rimmed red with tears, cheeks appearing damp from the sheer amount of times you had to have cried today. adjusting his hold on the bags, he transfers them all to one hand, using his free hand to bring your body closer to him in an embrace.

megumi softly whispers comforting words to you, brushing his lips against your temple, soothing you for a moment before inviting himself into your apartment.

once he was finally inside, he demands that you relax on your couch as he moved around your kitchen (after handing you the bags of your favorite snacks, first). he opens the bento box and works on heating it up, getting it to the perfect temperature before giving it to you with some utensils.

as you dig into the food, megumi takes sips from one of the bottles of sodas he had purchased, listening to you talk about your first week at work between bites of your food. he allows you to vent about your strict supervisor and almost lazy coworkers, listening to each and every syllable that comes from your mouth.

when you were finished talking about your first week at your new job, megumi flashes you a smirk. "shall i take you to work tomorrow and have a little talk with your coworkers?"

your eyes go wide, and megumi almost chuckled in response to your panicked expression. "no! absolutely NOT, 'gumi! i know you're going to want to threaten or beat them up...!"

megumi raises his eyebrows at you. "well damn, i guess you know me too well after all."

ah, there it was, the smile he had so desperately wanted to see the whole time. you were giggling while playfully hitting at his chest, and megumi couldn't help but feel relieved now. getting a bit emotional, he takes you in his embrace, causing you to stiffen slightly in response.

"you have no idea how worried i was about you... when you didn't send me an annoying good morning text, or even called."

a soft giggle was heard coming from you before you wrapped your arms around megumi, placing your lips against the side of his neck. "sorry, 'gumi... i guess i just needed some time to cool off. i didn't mean to ignore you."

"it's okay, don't apologize." megumi's voice takes on a deeper tone, gently moving your head away from his shoulder. he takes a moment to admire your beauty before placing a hand on your chin. "you're allowed to have all the time in the world you need for yourself... just... just let me know, so i won't have to worry, okay? can you promise to do that for me?"

he watches as you give him a nod, "i promise, megumi."

"good."

satisfied with your answer, megumi leans in forward to capture your lips within his, having every intention of helping you forget about all the stress your job had given you-

and you weren't one to complain as you spent the entire night basking in his kisses.

a.n. - dedicated to @xbarrjallenx 🥰

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[mrrharper]

The Bro Zone Resort

Mike entered the resort’s reception area and looked around. It was early in the day so there weren’t that many people around. He walked up to the desk.

“Good morning, sir. How can I help you?” A large and muscular man, wearing a tank top with the resort’s logo proudly displayed on his chest, was standing on the other side of the desk and looking at Mike with a slight grin.

“Uhm, hi.” He slowly responded, not used to such a brawny dude talking to him. “I… I have a reservation under the name Mike Crawford for uhhh… the “Bro Tropical” package, I think.” The man behind the desk smiled and nodded, then typed something into his computer while Mike’s eyes wandered towards his broad chest. Then he finally noticed the name written on the tank top, above the left pectoral. Brock. A name very fitting the man, Mike thought.

“Okay, I have everything he need.” Brock spoke, throwing Mike out of his line of thought.

“Uhm, sorry what?” He put on a sheepish grin and Brock chuckled. 

“I have everything ready for you, Mike.” A brochure and a room card were put on the counter by Brock. “You’ll spend your week at the Bro Zone in Room 37F, and your resident for the length of your stay will be Cross, one of our best.” Mike thanked Brock, took all that was given to him and walked up to the elevator. He quickly got up to the third floor and started walking along the corridor, looking for his room. Fortunately, it wasn’t far from the elevator shaft and he unlocked the door with the card he got at the reception desk.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. The entire room reeked of sweat, cheep cologne and a few other things Mike could not name. As he got his bag into the room and closed the door behind him, he looked around and saw an absolute mess. Used jockstraps, shorts and tank tops were hanging from every piece of furniture. Dumbbells were scattered on the floor and every flat surface was covered by cans of coke and protein shake bottles. Mike closed his eyes and let the horrible smell fill his nostrils. God, he was in heaven, he thought.

Suddenly he heard some sounds coming from the bathroom and the door to it opened, revealing the main attraction of Mike’s stay at The Bro Zone. In front of him stood a 6’3 brute, every part of his body thick with muscles, with a few tattoos, a tank top clearly too small to cover all of this bulk, and sweaty gym shorts. Cross looked at Mike, scratched at his crotch and nodded.

“Sup, brah? You Mike?”

“Uhm, yeah.” He nodded awkwardly. Cross shrugged and walked around Mike, then settled on the couch and grabbed one of the half-empty protein shakers on the table next to him.

“Yer bedroom’s on the right” The gym bro moved his hand around, showing Mike what was where in their apartment. “There’s the bathroom, there’s the kitchen, there’s the entrance to the terrace with the pool.”

“Thanks” Mike smiled and walked towards his bedroom.

“Whatever, bro” He heard a grumbled response behind his back.

Mike went into his room and quickly unpacked. The sweaty stench was still very much there, but at least there was no random shit on the floor. As he sat down on the bed and took a deep breath, he smiled. He already knew he was gonna enjoy his stay at the resort.

Then he took out the brochure he got form Brock after coming in and flipped through the pages until he found the only actually important thing - the command that would allow him to control Cross. There were limitations to this of course, the gym bro wouldn’t do anything that would go against his core traits that Mike chose while booking his stay. But it was still a powerful weapon.

With the command memorized, Mike quickly changed into his swimming shorts, his hard on already visible, and left his room. He went back to the main area of the apartment and looked at Cross, who was watching something on TV, his sweaty armpits exposed for Mike to see.

“Bro code.” Mike said with an assertive tone. Cross turned towards him. He still had that arrogant expression on his face, but he was clearly listening. “Go get changed, we’re going swimming.”

“Sure bruh, whatever ya say dude.” The bro shrugged and stood up, then went outside. Mike had a giant grin on his face, he was so excited. 

When he went outside onto the terrace a minute later he saw Cross on the edge of the pool, wearing only a pair of briefs and sunglasses, his hunky body - and his hefty package - almost completely exposed. Mike slowly licked his lips and took a step forward.

[sungbeam]

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞

agent!kim sunwoo x agent!fem!reader

6.3k words, enemies 2 implied lovers?, spy au, angst, action, swearing, depictions of violence/blood/weaponry, drinking, UNREALISTIC STANDARDS FOR HOW LONG SOMEONE CAN BLEED OUT T_T, mentions of murder and death, i think that's the bulk of it?

a/n: requests now closed! omg i actually had quite the trouble writing this one 🤧 but i hope it's still enjoyable!! thanks so much @shakalakaboomboo for ur req <3

There was something about the rain tonight that would make the smell of blood even more distinct. The moment you stepped out of the cab, you were hit by a wave of hot, all-consuming heat, accompanied by the insistent drumming of the downpour. The near abandoned streets tonight were doused in the scent of petrichor, and you blinked the water out of your eyes as you made your way toward the entrance of the building of interest.

Just as you had expected, Chanhee had logged your identification into the system, and your card alerted green with no problem. The man standing guard by the scanner passed you a nod. “Evening, Miss.”

You gave a nod back, sweeping your hand through your drenched hair to get it out of your eyes. “Good evening. Is there a bathroom nearby? I’m kind of new to the building.”

He pointed down the hall, around the corner. “Right that way. Have a good night.”

“Thanks, you, too. Stay dry!” You added the last part with a lighthearted smile, coaxing a similar expression from the guard who no doubt had a long night ahead of him. If everything worked out okay, he would still be able to leave alive. If everything worked out perfectly, then everyone could leave this building alive tonight.

You winced to yourself as the soles of your shoes squelched with each step, the shiny marble floors becoming even more shiny as water dripped down to form a trail to the bathroom. You found the ladies’ washroom right where the man had said it would be and let yourself in.

You saw his reflection before you even saw him. Your heart leapt in your chest, but that slowly came back down to Earth when your brain processed who it was. Eyes narrowed, you went over to the middle stall and enclosed yourself within.

“Took you long enough,” Kim Sunwoo, the bane of your existence, drawled. He stood outside of the stalls, leaning against the sink counter, with his body fully equipped with all the necessary items. He seemed to be fully dry, despite it having rained cats and dogs outside. The suit was dry, his hair was dry. Everything about him was pristine and neat and ready to go—howdy doo.

You glared at the door as if you were Superman with x-ray vision and laser eyes. There was a garment bag hanging on the back of the stall that you swiftly unzipped to swap out your drenched clothes with. “What the fuck are you doing in the women’s restroom, you perv?”

“Well, the only other person in here is you, so I wouldn’t say it was much of a scandal. It’s just you, after all,” he replied snidely.

You shivered as the air hit your cold, wet skin, and you hobbled into the pair of dress slacks that were given to you. You really hoped that Chanhee hadn’t given you a pair of chunky loafers just for “fashion’s” sake this time. (You appreciated his fashion advice on any other occasion, except when you were on an assignment.) To your relief, they were a simple pair of flats, and you dug out a note in the left shoe with Chanhee’s scrawl: Found the most boring, “practical” pair of shoes in the closet. You’re welcome.

“Do you ever worry about sounding like an asshole?” You voiced out into the echoey bathroom as you buttoned up your blouse and donned your suit jacket. “Oh, wait. I forgot that assholes don’t have to worry about sounding like an asshole.”

You could hear his eyes roll from behind the door.

Once you were done, you shoved all your sopping wet clothes into the garment bag and stepped out of the stall to twist your hair up and off your shoulders. Sunwoo eyed you from his little corner. There was a screen propped in one of his gloved hands as he went over the schematics of the building and where the two of you needed to go to retrieve the required target before the auction.

“Are we ready, princess?” He asked sarcastically while you double checked the weapons and tools hidden in certain parts of your clothing. Knives, ammo, lock picks, and a gun.

You ignored his mocking nickname for you. "Do you have the money?" You asked him as you both started making your way to the bathroom door.

"No." He nearly crashed face first into your back from how abruptly you stopped. He frowned. "Can you move—?"

You whirled on him. "We can't go to an auction to bid on an item without money," you said, feeling your pulse rise in your neck.

"We can," he huffed, reaching around you to open the door and usher you out, "if we're not there to bid."

"Since when were we not going to bid for it?" Your head went on a swivel, voice low, as you stuck close to Sunwoo on the way over to the private set of elevators further down the hall. It was awfully quiet in the lobby, save for the sounds of your breathing and footsteps.

Sunwoo passed you his device and reached into his jacket pocket to toss you a card on a lanyard. "Since Changmin and I decided it would be easier to just steal the damn thing instead."

Your head raced as you skimmed through the schematics and plans that Sunwoo and Changmin had come up with. These were blueprints of the auction room, neighboring rooms, and vents. Yeah, chunky loafers would not have done you any favors tonight.

But footwear wasn't the problem. The problem was that half the team had gone and decided on a whole new plan without consulting the other half. You jammed your finger against the "up" button to summon the elevator. "Of course, you would go behind my back and just decide this."

He tucked his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. "The director already okayed it. Plus, they weren't willing to give us more money than they approved of."

The elevator doors opened, and the both of you stepped inside. Sunwoo reached over and jammed his thumb against floor forty-two.

You leaned your head against the elevator wall, eyes fluttering closed. You would have throttled the director for not approving of more money being put towards this assignment. You thought it would only make sense since the flash drive that was being auctioned off tonight contained such highly sensitive information. It just didn't make sense.

"If we won the auction the right way," Sunwoo suddenly said as you mentally cartwheeled through about a dozen potential scenarios and concerns, "that would simply put a target on our backs for those who want it. Stealing it first would keep our identities low profile."

You had to admit that his words had some reason to them. You watched the numbers on the elevator tick-tock its way up to level forty-two. "So what's the plan, Oh Mighty One?" You asked, inspecting the card on the lanyard around your neck. It had the same identification as the card you'd used to get into the building, but this one had a special seal in the corner that would no doubt be used to get you into the auction itself.

"You're gonna cut the lights, and I'm gonna steal the drive."

Your head whipped toward him. "You're shitting me. I'm not a man-in-the-chair, Sunwoo."

"Never said you were," he said. "It's just too risky to have us both go for it."

Something creeped into your chest and your fingers clenched around your lanyard. "Don't give me that bullshit," you said, having to pull back a full-on snarl. "Just say you have zero faith in me to my face." It was just like the academy all over again. You could hear his taunts egging you on from across the sparring mat, could envision his gaze cutting toward you with every first rank he received. He was good at almost everything, while you had to haul ass to even get to second.

You were so sick of being underestimated.

He considered you for a moment, but you couldn't look him in the eye, choosing instead to stare straight ahead at the steel doors of the elevator. He opened his mouth to say something, but the elevator slowed to a stop and the two of you had to walk out onto the floor.

The two of you fell into step with one another as you made your way down the hall to the large pair of doors at the end. There were two men stationed on either side, dressed in the typical dark suits and earpieces. Attached to their belts, you noted the shotguns hanging there. If you could get closer, you might be able to identify the model…

"IDs," said the one on the right when you and Sunwoo approached.

You and Sunwoo held your cards face up, and both guards took a device from their back pockets to scan the seals in the corner. When their devices lit up green, they reached for the doors and beckoned you through.

The auction room itself looked cavernous with its wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, ceiling dripping with panels of modern lighting, and pedestals littered about the room like a fancy showroom of expensive black market items. You and Sunwoo stuck together mainly, thankfully not sticking out like a sore thumb thanks to the business smart attire you'd changed into. There were a few people with more luxury branded garments on, but other than that, it seemed Chanhee had hit the dress code right on its nose.

Sunwoo tapped you on the arm with the back of his hand, his fingers subtly marking out the chairs, the second floor railing around the perimeter of the room, and the guarded door by the foot of the stage. "We need a distraction to get in there. Once we get inside, we'll have plenty of time to grab the thingamajig since it's the last on the—"

"Hold on—the thingamajig?" Your face screwed up in incredulity.

"Are you judging? Why are you judging?" He asked, plucking twin flutes of champagne off an orbiting waiter's tray. He handed you one. "Drink this. Act natural."

You rolled your eyes and chugged the glass. While you did think Sunwoo was good at a lot of things, alcohol tolerance was one of the few where you came out on top. Right now, you were going to take full advantage of it because that liquid courage was definitely needed. "You say that like I've never done this before, lightweight."

"Oh, shut up."

You and Sunwoo lingered for a moment, pretending to eye the list of auction items being displayed on the flat screen on stage. According to the countdown timer, the two of you only had a few minutes before—

The lights went out.

A gasp fell over the crowd as you placed your empty glass on a nearby table and grabbed Sunwoo by the upper arm. "That wasn't you, was it?" You whispered to him, making your way toward the side of the room where the back door was.

"Yes, because I can control electricity with my mind," he hissed back at you.

"Everyone, please remain calm—" a man had stepped onto the stage and was attempting to placate everyone in the room. He had his hands held out, an easygoing smile on his face. All of the guards and staff members were holding up emergency flashlights, and a few other guests were beginning to pull out their cellphones.

Yours and Sunwoo's eyes darted from the crowd to the man guarding the back door. To your surprise, you saw the man pause at something in his earpiece, before turning around to enter the door he was guarding.

"Fuck, catch the door," you said to Sunwoo, grabbing the glass out of his hand and shoving him toward the door.

He launched for it, barely shoving his body through the opening before it clicked shit. He grimaced as you caught up to him. "This door is fucking heavy," he said, baring his teeth at you when he noticed you were trying to prevent the champagne from spilling. "Can you put down the damn alcohol, Ln?"

"It might come in handy," you quipped, slipping in through the door behind him.

When the door shut behind you, the hallway was encased in darkness, save for the haunting red EXIT signs above your heads, one at each end of the hallway. You followed Sunwoo's lead since he'd been the one to study the blueprints of this place, your free hand grazing over the pistol hanging from your belt beneath the flap of your suit jacket.

"What the hell happened? That wasn't one of us, was it?" You voiced into the dark.

Sunwoo had whipped out a small flashlight and put the butt in his mouth to hold while he jimmied the opposite door open. "Mm-mm," his answer was muffled, but you knew what he meant. The door fell open a little too easily, and Sunwoo only cocked his head in curiosity for a moment, then he was moving forward.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up when you heard voices echoing from somewhere within this next room. The AC was jacked up to a decently high power here, keeping the room cool and dry for all the items that were supposedly being auctioned. This next room was a labyrinth of shelves, and through them, you could make out the movement of lights slicing through the spaces.

"This feels too easy," you murmured to your partner as the two of you peered through the cracks between shelves.

"Yeah, no kidding," he muttered back. "I think somebody is trying to steal something, too."

"The drive?"

"Could be."

The voices came closer, footsteps shuffling and light swarming through the shelves like visible beams through a thick fog.

You grabbed onto Sunwoo again and yanked his arm over your shoulders. You felt him stiffen. "Act drunk, you idiot," you instructed into his ear, "and when they get close enough, do the thing."

He sent you a look. "The thing? And why do I have to be the drunk one again—"

"Freeze!"

Both you and Sunwoo's heads shot up as bright lights blinded your vision. You couldn't tell how many there were—two? Three? But you felt Sunwoo relax in your hold as he sunk into the role you'd assigned him.

"I'm so sorry," you lamented, holding up the flute of champagne in your hand. "My friend over here just drank waaay too much at the open bar and started wandering."

The lights were nearing. "How did you two get back here?" Asked the same voice.

"The door was unlocked during the power outage! I am so—" Your eyes found the circle shapes of the muzzles of handguns being pointed at you and your partner when they had neared enough, "—sorry. We're just a little lost now."

You squeezed Sunwoo's side as you hobbled the two of you closer to the lights like a damsel in distress. "Just point us in the right direction and we'll be—"

If you didn't know Sunwoo like you did, you probably wouldn't have even registered what just happened. But within the blink of an eye, you felt him leave your grasp, and you tossed the glass of champagne at one of your opponents. "Hey, catch!"

On instinct, the one across from you had to drop something to catch the flying glass of champagne, and unlucky for them, it happened to be their gun. Your foot kicked that sucker like a soccer ball beneath the nearest shelf. You grabbed the champagne out of their hand—thanked them for holding it—then smashed the glass over their head.

Quick and easy, yet your heart was pounding against your chest. What the hell was going on?

When you were finished, you leaned down to pick up the fallen flashlight. Sunwoo was looming over his own opponent with his boot on the man's chest, and he pocketed the spare gun while the flashlight hung from his other hand.

You both looked at each other. "We gotta go."

"I can't believe you made me do the drunk scenario."

"Can you just shut up and focus?"

Navigating the maze of shelving was a lot easier with the flashlights. At least now, both of you could see where you were going without fear of anyone else catching you. But when neither of you found the so-called hard drive you were tasked with retrieving, you were met instead by another door leading out to another unknown location.

Sunwoo dove in headfirst. (Right, he studied the maps. Ugh.) "I have a feeling someone's taken the drive already, so be prepared to shoot."

The next room was a long corridor that sloped downward toward a lone elevator. Creepy.

You scowled. "Like I'm never prepared to shoot?"

His gaze was equally as disgruntled. "Just because you got the highest marks in all of our projectiles classes doesn't mean you'll actually shoot."

That remark was something akin to an arrow to your chest. A muscle feathered in your jaw as he called the elevator up to the floor. "You were the top of class in projectile training; you have a license to kill; and yet, you have zero kills in your stats."

How the…? "I don't have to kill to execute my objective. Those aren't assignments I take," you countered, stepping into the elevator when it opened its jaws for you.

Sunwoo crossed his arms over his chest. "Ln, you didn't even take the gun away from the guy earlier. That is protocol."

"I have a gun—"

"That's not the problem, and you know it." He snarled. He took a step near you, both of your tensions rising, heat boiling between your two gazes, nostrils flared. "Just think about it, huh? How many times could you have made it easier on yourself by shooting your way out of something? You know what I would do to have an aim like yours? It's a fucking gift in this field, Ln. And yet, here you are, too scared to even hold a gun—"

You stepped into his space, got up in his face. "You know fucking nothing about me, so quit acting like you do," you snarled and forced the tremor out of your voice. Your hand fisted at your side, close to the weapon you were cursed and gifted to always be tied to.

His tongue poked the inside of his cheek and you were so close to him that you could measure the length of his eyelashes. "What in hell happened to you?"

The elevator dinged. You'd arrived.

You pulled away, mentally shaking yourself away from this conversation. "Don't start acting like you care now."

"I don't," he said as you both walked out of the elevator into a massive underground parking structure beneath the building. "I just need to know that I can count on you if we're in trouble."

"You can," you answered. But there was a microscopic break there, and you were certain he'd heard it, too. There was a question in his stare—he was never as good with guns, but he could fight his way out of a scenario just as well. You were the right choice out of the two of you for anything long range, but the question was if you could still live up to that one-trick reputation.

The underground garage created the perfect echo chamber for loud noises. You and Sunwoo simply followed the audible cacophony coming from further within the garage. Gun rounds were being unloaded without mercy, tire squeals were shut down by no doubt those same gun shots.

You wiped your hand on your pants, sticky from the champagne from earlier, as you and your partner pressed yourselves up against two columns. Just beyond, there was an active shootout taking place—which side had the merchandise, you weren't quite sure of.

Sunwoo signaled to you in a way you recognized from games of capture the flag at the academy. Two fingers swished toward the men behind the cars closest to him, then for you, the ones on your side. Heart hammering against your ribcage, you could only nod, and enclosed your fingers around the handle of the gun in your belt.

You blindly double checked the ammunition loaded up in your firearm, but it was futile since you'd already checked in the bathroom much earlier. It was loaded completely, and very much ready to fire.

You didn't need Sunwoo to signal, because you seemed to know exactly when the other was going to whip around the stone column and take one person out at a time.

Arm—one down—a leg, oh, was that a thigh?—but there went two off your side, as easy as shooting clay pigeons. Instead of a jitteriness filling your nerves, everything seemed to muffle and calm when you had a gun between your fingers. Like second nature, you picked off people (without killing them) before they even realized their mates were gone.

You would nail them in the arm, the shoulder, the butt, the leg, then duck behind the pillar for cover. Guns had become too easy of a game for you.

You barely even noticed that the others on Sunwoo's side started shooting at both of you.

"Fuck," you heard your counterpart curse as he pressed himself against the column.

The two of you connected gazes, and he didn't even have to ask before you were pulling down the hammer again and taking aim—

"LN—YN! BEHIND YOU!"

Your heart lurched into your throat, and you dove.

A line of bullets buried themselves into the concrete where your head had been, and you winced, feeling the burn of concrete through your clothes.

You rolled behind the nearest car, swearing as you clambered to your knees for cover. Somebody had set up a few cars behind you, ready to take you out with an automatic rifle.

"Sunwoo, you need to cover me," you shouted at him, glancing over your shoulder for his visual confirmation.

He gave a firm nod, already leaping into hand-to-hand action and ditching his gun for his more trustworthy melee weapons instead.

Through the windows of the car, you could just make out movement of the gunman. You crawled over to the other side of the car, tracking the feet and legs you could see beneath the vehicles. You reloaded your pistol, smacking the magazine into place, then pressing the hammer down.

Shots suddenly rained down on you, and you pressed yourself further to the ground.

"Come on, come on," you urged, "reload already."

And when you heard that beautiful sound of silence, you yanked yourself to your feet, pointed the barrel through the window, and shot. You heard the curse, and it was enough for you to whip over the back of the car and smack the butt of your gun into their head. The gunman went crashing to the concrete; you tucked your pistol away and picked up the automatic.

The heft of the gun was an old friend—it sank over you in cold realization… how much damage you could do with this.

With pursed lips, you emptied out the gun and kicked it under the car.

You rushed to line up a shot with your pistol to help Sunwoo who was juggling a fight against two others.

He didn't need that much help, but there was the glint of a knife, and you didn't even blink. The bullet buried itself in one of their shoulders, and Sunwoo elbowed him off his back, shoving the other's face into the car in front of him. He yanked his opponent's hair back and smashed their head into the metal again.

"You got it?" You asked him, sliding over the hoods of cars to get back.

He knew what you meant. Blood ran down his nose and there was a purplish cut on his lip. Sweat dripped down the side of his face as he dumped the now unconscious foe to the concrete. "Yeah, it went flying somewhere over there," he inclined his head down a row of cars, and you gave a nod.

The two of you jogged over in the direction Sunwoo asserted and began looking for the discarded drive.

You straightened after ducking beneath a car, but your eyes caught a flash of someone—your instincts lurched.

"Fuck, Sunwoo—!" You had the time to shove him out of the way as the rounds went flying past your heads and you tackled him.

Something pierced into the skin of your shoulder though, and you felt the bullet rip through your clothes and flay your skin as it passed. Your hand slapped over your arm as you fellz Sunwoo's stabilizing you. "Shit, Ln," he said, grasping your good side.

"It's the guy from earlier," you groaned, feeling the blood begin to pool.

"Huh? What guy—"

"The one I didn't take the gun from in the hall." The regret poured into you as swiftly as your blood flowed out of you. "I'll cover you—just find the damn thing."

He sent you a look, but nodded. "Okay."

You were lucky you hadn't been nicked in your good arm, you thought, as you clambered to your knees and peered over the edge of the car.

There he was, the man you'd smashed over the head with a glass. His forehead was bleeding profusely, but he still stumbled toward you, cocking his gun and firing. You ducked, crouching around the car to get to the other side. Mind racing for strategies, you thought you could easily take him down one limb at a time like the others.

All thoughts went flying out the window though when the man started barreling toward you, teeth bared, like a bull seeing red. You yelped as a bullet pelted the ground an inch from your hand. You ducked behind the car, ignoring the pain in your shoulder to palm your gun and aim.

You heard it hit its target.

But he just kept running.

"Are you serious?" You cursed, then regretting it immediately when he threw himself across the hood of the car to knock you down.

You cried out as your head hit the car behind you, the pain stabbing white in your vision. Adrenaline and fear pumped through you as you fought to keep his hands away from your neck. You even found where your bullet had lodged itself and pressed on it.

He grunted at the feeling, nearly twisting your arm off for that. You were trying, trying, trying.

His gun was gone; it didn't matter. You weren't good at hand to hand.

And your grip on his thick fucking wrists slipped. His hands were around your throat. You couldn't breathe—you thrashed around, smashed your gun against his face. He swept your efforts away, determination pressing his thumbs into the hollow—

BANG!

You saw the life drain out of his eyes. He fell over you, blood and a smoking gun sandwiched between your bodies.

Oxygen rushed into your lungs and you coughed. The realization hit you, a hammer striking against the percussion cap.

You just killed this man. You just shot him, point blank.

Oh god—you heaved his limp body off you, his blood staining your clothing, and you felt like Lady Macbeth, scrambling over blood that would not wash away.

"Yn!" Sunwoo's voice.

You wrestled to your hands and knees. "It's not my blood," you coughed, dry gagging at the sight of the pale body, rigid from rigor mortis.

Your mind was everywhere. Another one dead. What if he had a family? What if what if what if—?

"Ln, come on, you're alive. You can do it."

You were on your feet. There was a ringing in your ears from when your head smashed against the car.

Sunwoo ran over to you and threw your good arm over his shoulder to get you to the car he had broken into. "There you go. Hey, I got the drive. How 'bout that?" He wiggled a slim, black tab—the thing that had caused all of tonight's trouble.

You shook out the orbs dancing in your vision. How hard had your head been struck? "It still feels too easy."

"Don't say that," he groaned. "I just wanna get out of this place."

You really shouldn't have spoken so soon.

You heard the shot before you felt it; then the next one, then the next.

Sunwoo twisted around to shoot three rounds himself, silencing one of the people who had gotten the strength to pull himself up for one last try.

All breath left your throat as your hand reached for your lower abdomen. One of the bullets had gone through, piercing the side of your stomach. It had gone all the way through, back to front, the bullet lodged in the metal of the car in front of you.

You couldn't even see which blood stain was yours.

"Nonononono," Sunwoo chanted as your knees buckled and you started slipping to the ground. "Yn—Yn, stay with me," he urged, laying you gently on the ground.

The pain twisted itself until your eyes watered. You thought you tasted blood in your mouth. "Should've shot them dead like you said," you managed to say.

Sunwoo leaned over you, panic wide in his dark eyes as he held your face between his palms. "Yn, honey, you need to stay with me." He pressed his hands over the wounds opening and you screamed, the sound grating against his ears. He knew it hurt—god, he knew, but he needed to stop the bleeding somehow. Oh fuck.

"I'm sorry I screwed up so many times," you grunted to him. You tasted the iron coating your throat and suppressed the urge to cough it all out. You could barely think with the fucking hole in your stomach, but all you knew was that if he wasn't quick, the shot could be fatal.

"I'm gonna get you out of here." You could hear the resolve in his voice, but the shaky undertone, too. You'd never heard his voice shake before. "Don't apologize." Not until I get you out alive.

He scooped you up and you screwed your face up in agony. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your teeth clamping down on your tongue to muffle the screams. There was blood in your mouth.

It hurt. Fucking hell, it hurt.

He went through the motions of wrestling the car door open, laying you in the passenger seat, trying to find something to staunch the bleeding on both sides.

The whole time, you kept your eyes on his face, trying to ingrain his features in your memory. The blood from his nose had partly dried, but the cut on his lips made his bottom one even poutier.

You'd never seen him so worried, or scared, with the crease between his brows. You wanted to reach up and rub it away.

"Hey," you rasped, catching his wild eyes. "Stop fussing over me and drive."

He clicked his tongue, eyes darting between your face and the knot he was tying with the jacket he found in the backseat. "Yah," he said half-heartedly, "don't tell me what to do."

He passed you another glance before shutting your door and running for the driver's seat.

As soon as Sunwoo collapsed into his side of the car, the elevator, from which you'd come, slid open. A flood of guards in armor and equipped with automatic weapons flooded out in a tidal wave. You both swore a colorful line of words.

"Drive, drive, drive—!" You urged, breaking out into coughs, then doubling over when the motion only intensified the bullet wound.

"What do you think I'm doing, woman!" He yelled and the tires squealed as he pulled out of the parking spot to make a mad dash for the exit.

Bullets fired at the car, lodging themselves in the metal and cracking the back windshield. You heard the glass shatter, and you reached for your gun to try and knock some of them off.

Sunwoo shoved your hand down. "Oh, no you don't. Save your energy, hot stuff."

It wasn't until he had navigated you both away safely from harm's way that you really let everything soak into your head. Your blood marinated the car seat beneath you, and you could feel your energy being siphoned toward the gaping hole in your stomach. Reality dawned on you faster and faster.

Did you fear death?

The streets were empty; it was still raining. You were right about the hot rain—it made the blood scent bolder.

Sunwoo made a turn onto a street, and another, to take any lingering tails off.

"I killed someone tonight," you voiced out into the quiet car amongst the humdrum of rain. It drizzled in through the shattered back windshield and onto the backseat.

"It's okay, Yn," he said quietly. "You had to."

You paused, swallowing. You inhaled sharply and you swore you were starting to get used to the throbbing all over your body. "You… you were right."

"You don't have to do that. Save your en—"

"No," you said with more force. His mouth snapped shut. "I just—" your eyes drifted closed for a moment, "—I just wanted to get this off my chest."

When he remained quiet to give you the space to speak, you told him, "What you said in the elevator was right… I uhm, I feel like a coward when I can't stomach a headshot anymore. I just… Sunwoo, I hate who, or what, I become when I have a gun in my hands."

You felt him glance over at you. "You're not a monster, if you think that's what you are," he murmured. You felt his hand cover yours where you were holding your injury.

"I've hurt a lot of people," you admitted, eyes staring out the front windshield. "The organization told me to pull the trigger, and I did. Even in the academy, I never felt good enough unless I was hitting a target." It had become a momentary triumph only, until every hit made you sink deeper and deeper into guilt. You had been tearing yourself apart at the seams, and you could remember those moments, seeing the fallen with people who cared about them rushing to their side.

The twisting in your stomach suddenly didn't feel like it was from the gunshot.

"Your record—"

"My record is doctored," you said blankly. "They wiped it when I gave up being a sniper."

He meditated on that for a moment, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip. He winced when he was reminded of the injury there. "I know that I was and have been—not the greatest toward you—and... I'm sorry. I think some part of me just thought it would catch your attention—which is no excuse—but…" His finger tapped on the steering wheel in time with his blinker. "I always thought that you would go far regardless. I thought you'd be recruited as a sniper for the high profile shit."

A smile curled at the corner of your lips. "Yeah?"

He nodded, his own lips pressed together. "Yeah. The best, y'know? And I thought�� at least as a sniper, you won't be in the line of fire."

Your chest throbbed. "I still got shot, too, though."

"Yeah, but…" He turned into a barren residential street, no doubt toward the safe house nearby. "They wouldn't be shooting at you, I guess. I dunno. That's what I was telling myself, anyway."

You shifted your head slightly to peer over at him. There was a sincerity to his words that you had almost never remembered hearing out of his mouth. You believed him—you believed that he cared. "Thinking about me in your free time, Kim?"

"You wish," he joked, but it was a weaker comeback.

The house he pulled up to was at the end of a cul-de-sac. It was the standard, cookie cutter suburban house, with its front lawn trimmed and windows dark and lifeless. Sunwoo carefully drove the car into the empty garage for privacy, then ran over to your side to help you out.

You could feel yourself falling out of consciousness with all the blood loss.

Your head was drooping as he picked you up in his arms again. The crease between his brows made a reappearance and with your last bit of strength, you reached up to gently rub it away with your thumb. "Hey… I'm gonna be okay," you whispered to him in the dark and quiet of the garage.

He swallowed, peering down at you. "You better be," he said. "Who's gonna have my back then?"

You smiled since you couldn't laugh. Maybe the blood loss was making you loopy (probably), but you swore he smiled just a teensy bit.

He managed to get you on the couch, and you whimpered at the surface beneath you. He disappeared for a moment, but when he returned, it was with a first aid kit and a phone. "I called headquarters; they'll be here in five," he murmured, kneeling next to you and beginning to peel off the blood coated fabrics.

You hissed, body squirming with whatever energy you had left. "I can't believe I'm still alive."

He huffed and gently applied pressure to the wound with gauze. "The only one who gets to kill you is me. Remember that."

"Yeah, yeah," you panted. "Sew me up or something."

"It's gonna hurt. Wanna hold my hand?"

Your eyes met his. "You're ridiculous." But somehow, he managed to make your heart lurch. Even bleeding out and halfway dead, he could make your heart rate spike.

He gave a shrug as he threaded the needle and you held onto the gauze for the moment. "You know what they say…" his voice softened when you both heard a familiar voice announcing his presence from the front door—Changmin. Backup was here. "Enemies make the best lovers, do they not?"

"Did it take me almost dying for you to think of that one?"

Changmin rushed in with a full kit in his hands and practically shoved Sunwoo out of the way. You bit on your tongue as the newcomer inspected your wound.

Sunwoo leaned over the edge of the couch and grappled at your hand, his other brushing the sweaty hair out of your face. "We're not done with this conversation, okay? You better not die on me."

You squeezed his hand when Changmin began stitching you up. "Wouldn't dream of it."

tbz m.list

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello Lady Raven! How do you do? I hope you're having a good day.

I was looking stalking at your blog when I saw your post which contained a world map of the game. This made me really curious: what informations do we have about the countries, kingdoms and other lands that appear in the map? Specially the Land of Dawning, Sunshine Lands and Kingdom of Heroes. Does the world of Twist have other lands that do not appear in the map? Are the shaftlands some sort of Twist Europe (as in; a bunch of countries that signed a agreement to be sort of unified)? And what is that big empty land north of the shaftlands?

I'm really curious about the countries and their cultures in the Twist world, I feel like we don't really have a lot of info on them, and as someone that really loves geography and history, that makes me a bit sad 😂.

I hope you're healthy, thank you for your time!

Oh, the map from this post?

Hello, hello!

Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m able to compile ALL lore we have on all available countries, cities, and towns into a single post (especially when there’s a lot of other questions that have also been posed + need answering in your ask). That’s way too large of a scope for a single post. I did compile lots of food/related lore here if you want to take a look, as I find the food and food customs in a region say a lot about its culture and history. (Plus, I’m just very interested in food!)

If you’re curious about each location, you can find the bulk of information yourself in related hometown events—however, tons of lore tidbits are also dropped in non-hometown events (ex: Floyd talks about land training camp in the second beans day event), voice lines (ex: Dorm Uniform Leona says that in his home land, scars are seen as signs of bravery), and vignettes (ex: In Jade’s School Uniform vignette, Kalim talks about how serving very sweet tea is a luxurious way to welcome guests to your home in the Scalding Sands). There’s lots out there if you’re willing to search for it!!

Please be aware that we haven’t visited most of the areas on the map, so we are still missing a lot of information on them. The Land of Dawning, Sunshine Lands, and the Kingdom of Heroes are particularly lacking in information. They’ve been mentioned offhandedly every so often. Platinum Jacket vignettes feature the boys visiting the National Museum of Art in the Land of Dawning, and there are sometimes bits of lore which mention these lands. The Mermaid Princess that strengthened the bond between merpeople and humans married a prince from the Sunshine Lands, I believe. In his Broomquet card, Idia says there is a place called “Hydra Valley” in the Kingdom of Heroes (which probably is a reference to the place Hercules defeated the hydra at). Finally, Crowley went with Idia’s parents to the Land of Dawning with to discuss important matters yet to be explained to us. The Land of Dawning is also referenced in a call for evacuation in book 7.

The map you see above is definitely incomplete. We don’t see several vital spots marked even though we’ve visited them: the City of Flowers/Fleur City, the Scalding Sands (and Silk City), Clock Town, Fairest City, the Land of Swords, Dawn City, and more. Heck, the continent that contains Briar Valley isn’t even labeled but somehow Briar Valley itself is. We cannot tell if this is even the entire world map or just a portion of it, since Lilia describes “a land to the east”/the Land of the Crimson Long, but the most eastward locations depicted seem to be the Queendom and the Afterglow Savanna. I definitely feel like there has to be more to it than what we currently see.

I would caution against saying that “[TWST location] = irl location” as even though there are oftentimes strong parallels or inspirations drawn between the two, they shouldn’t be conflated for one another. TWST often forms cultures of its own or borrows from many inspirations to create these places and to present them to us. Comparisons can be made, but let’s remain cautious to not veer too much into that since there’s no clear 1:1. For example, the Shaftlands could be interpreted as “twisted Europe”, but not really because the area often considered “twisted Britain” (which is a part of Europe) is seemingly separated and located on the other side of the map. And then you notice that this “twisted Britain” has a collection of islands that very much resembles irl Japan, an eastern country. So… in essence, sure, the City of Flowers/Fleur City resembles Paris, Fairest City feels very European and German, and Harveston is a blend of Nordic inspirations, but at the end of the day, they’re their own thing.

We don’t know what the land right above the Shaftlands is as of right now. For all we know, it could just be even more of the Shaftlands since the country seems to be a large expanse of land with variable weather depending on the region.

[quirkless-accident]

Danny secretly reforming LoV

(aka there are benefits of having 2 forms and being an underground hero/ spy other than flushing out human trafficking rings)

Danny is a secret powerhouse.

Sure, he's got the powers and personality for his daytime endeavors, but that's always been Phantom.

Fenton, however, is a different story.

He's got a few useful powers, and he's been asked on several occasions to work with some underground heroes that he just ended up being some sort of a double agent. Phantom is daylight, Fenton is nighttime, and neither are getting any kind of sleep.

Tonight, he gets a tip from about a bar.

----------

Meeting the League of Villains like this was not something he had mentally prepared himself for, but due to his general experiences he's able to school his expressions pretty well.

He's advertised his quirk to his contact as a general enhancer. His senses and strength are different enough from his more physical ghost powers for this to be a solid play, and keeping these particular cards close to his chest has gotten out of more than a couple scrapes. So when he walks into the bar owned by the League, he stands a bit taller, quirks his head a bit more, sniffs the air, and narrows his eyes at everybody.

He's a big guy. He got his father's genetics when it came to height, and he comes up to a respectable 6'7", and with his many years of training and hero work, he's bulked out quite a bit. All this to say is, even Fenton is a formidable foe. In the lion's den, he's gotta show that he's not one to be messed with.

"Name's Yokai," Danny tells them. "I heard you might be looking for new members?"

-----------

It goes well enough. Danny proves he can bring his own natural talents to the table, and lies through his teeth enough to convince them he's fully on their side. And though he didn't lie about hating the government and the Commission, it's still a pretty solid performance.

There's a weird energy around Kurogiri that sends a cold shiver down his spine. It's enough to clock that there isn't something completely human going on, but not enough to actually activate his ghost sense, which in and of itself is a relief. He has no idea how he would explain that when it's not a part of his known quirks.

Instead, he talks with Spinner first.

He's a stoic kinda guy who seems to be higher up in the ranks due to his ability to keep up with Shigaraki in various video games. He doesn't say much, but when he does speak it's practiced, calculated, as if one wrong word will get him thrown out. Danny knows it's something he's probably had to deal with his entire life. Not everybody is so accepting of mutation quirks that are as drastic as Spinner's.

He's also one of Stain's followers, which will either make things incredibly complicated, or a little easier on him.

Toga is, too, and it looks like Dabi has his own plans. The League for him just seems to be a way to enact them without much getting in his way.

He shares hobby with Spinner and gossips with Toga while they do each other's hair. While he can't let her feed on him for obvious reasons, every time he visits them he makes sure to bring a bag with him that he steals from a random hospital.

With Magne they talk about different parenting tactics, because while neither of them technically are, they're close enough. Danny's got Elle and Magne has this colorful crew to look after. They also talk about sexuality and gender, and Danny has had no discomfort in showing her the twin scars on his chest.

If they hug it out after that particularly emotional conversation, well, everybody is smart enough to keep their mouths shut.

With Mr. Compress, he's more of a theatrical kind of guy. Danny brushes up on his Shakespeare, giving a million thanks to Mr. Lancer as he does so, so he can converse with the man. Danny shows him a few complicated card tricks that make Compress chuckle at him as if he's a child, but Danny doesn't find himself minding one bit.

He goes through the whole League like that, more or less. He doesn't know when this became less of an information-gathering mission and more of a gentle-reformation one instead, but he can't say the results aren't there. They all look a bit more relaxed and at ease. Danny finds himself wanting to take care of them.

He of all people understands what it's like being different. Growing up quirkless and then struggling after his accident, he's never quite fit in. Unfit for regular society, not human enough or ghost enough to properly be in either world. He finds that most of the League have the mindset they'd of because of how society has treated them. And while their actions haven't been okay, he can't say he doesn't understand. If he had had a worse support system he probably would have ended up just like them.

Kurogiri is the one he doesn't hang out with much. Not because of any particular reason. He's usually busy cleaning, or breaking up fights, or setting up meetings or off doing who knows what. Because of his fast travel ability he's constantly running errands for everybody.

But when he does take a moment and slow down, he and Danny share some tea together. Or rather, Danny drinks tea in Kurogiri's quiet comfort. His motivations seem more protective than they are malicious, and that's something that Danny understands all too well. Even if the one he's protecting is a mislead murderer.

Because of their naturally ghostly nature, the two can communicate seamlessly without words. There's this underlying current of emotions that only they're aware of, and Danny's not sure if Kurogiri really even notices. Having not been around ectoplasm or ghosts in general, it can be hard to put a name to what this weird emotional feedback loop is. But Danny's got plenty of experience under his belt to realize that it's ghost related.

With this feedback loop and Kurogiri's general vibe, he eventually figures it out. It takes him a long time, but once he learned it was possible, the answer seemed obvious.

Two souls forcibly inhabiting one body, and neither one of them are in true control. He's not really sure how it was done, and he's not sure how to fix it without completely blowing his cover. Going in and separating the parasite from the host wouldn't be too much trouble with his overshadowing ability, but it's not something he can just do in the presence of the League.

He sips his tea instead.

---------

There's something familiar about the name Shigaraki but Danny can't for the life of him place it. Maybe it's because he raided the USJ during a training exercise in a desperate attempt to kill All Might. Maybe it's because he's the leader and figurehead of the League. But it's more than that, isn't it?

He just can't figure it out.

-----------

Months go by like this. Danny brings them things like medical supplies, gloves for Shigaraki, books for Compress, some high end burn cream for Dabi to prolong the effects of his quirk. He takes care of them, and in turn they trust him with information. Not enough to really do anything with it, but sometimes they tell him about a drop that happened, or a supply run they're hitting. A man named Sensei is mentioned more often than not, and he has to wonder if they've told this guy about Danny as much as they've told Danny about Sensei.

He's more than a little intrigued by this mysterious boogieman, and more concerned by the second about the mental toll he's taken on Shigaraki.

It's obvious the kid-because that's what he is to an immortal like Danny-didn't have a nice childhood. With a quirk like his, he probably had a rough awakening. His parents either didn't accept it or they were killed, or maybe they abandoned him. Either way, the clear malicious intent Sensei has with Shigaraki rubs Danny the wrong way, but he's not sure how to broach the subject without setting him off, and tipping everybody off that he's not really who he says he is.

It all comes to a head when Danny is invited to meet this Sensei character. He goes through Kurogiri's portal somewhere in the middle of the pack, with Shigaraki leading the charge. They enter into this large, cavernous room with giant Nomu test tubes lining the walls. In the very back, sitting on a high chair above the reason of them, was a man that just had an overwhelming sense of wrong. Hooked up to dozens of machines, Danny could tell that this man was more powerful than most of the S-Tier villains and ghosts he's fought. And judging from the weird energy that's similar to Kurogiri's, with an underlying current of maliciousness, it's not a surprising realization to Danny that this person should be dead.

"Ah, the famous Yokai," the villain drawls. Danny narrows his eyes as he feels a prodding sensation in the back of his mind, and firmly puts up all of his mental defenses. He's been mind controlled enough to know what it feels like, and he's not about to let some boogieman get the advantage on him.

"Ah, it seems like your heightened senses are good for more than just surveillance," the man says.

"It's a fun little party trick," Danny replies, trying his best to keep the edge out of his voice. Judging from the side eye that Dabi gives him, it's obvious he doesn't do a very good job of it.

The League up to this point has always been pretty laid back. Dabi especially usually has this aloof vibe he puts off, but all of them seem to be on high alert now. Backs are straight and their attention is forcibly stolen by the man in the chair.

"It's not very often that my young pupil finds someone worth his interest."

The nagging feeling in the back of his head is back, a more forceful prodding this time, and Danny closes his eyes to focus on blocking the intruder out. When he opens them again, there's a distinct chill in the air, and everyone has taken a step back from him.

He doesn't need to look in a mirror to know that his eyes are a ghostly green.

Fuck.

"You should be dead," Danny tells Sensei. His voice has this unearthly echo too it, laired in a way that tells everybody he's got just as much power as the man sitting in front of them. There's a sense of danger coming from from him, but it's directed at Sensei. His protective aura washes over the League, wanting to keep them from this battle for their own safety.

He takes a deep breath in, and lets his transformation take place. As he does so, it's like a little piece to the puzzle has unlocked itself.

Years ago-nearly a hundred years ago now-Clockwork had told Danny about a man named Shigaraki. About how he's cheated death time and time again, and how he will continue to do so. Danny had asked if he needed to go and stop him, and Clockwork had said it wasn't the right time.

With the man right in front of him, Danny can't think of a better opportunity.

The League steps back and braces for battle, and as much as Danny understands, it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

"I'm sorry for lying to you all," he tells them. "But for what it's worth, I truly do consider you to be friends."

Without anymore fanfare, Danny launches himself at All for One.

-----------

It's a long battle that takes down most of this mysterious warehouse they're in, as well as several of the nomus.

Danny pulls himself out of the rubble, stumbling as he does so. he's heavily injured, and ectoplasm is leaking out of him at an alarming rate, but dying is quite possibly the least of his worries.

During the fight, the League had tried to help, but it seems as though All for One wanted Danny to himself. He had protected them from AfO for as long as he could, but in the end Kurogiri was forced to take everyone away.

They would never trust him again. They would never want to be around him again. Danny should be okay with that because they're villains and he's a hero but he knows deep down that it's far more complicated than the black and white world most people want to believe in. Just because they're villains doesn't mean they're inherently bad people.

All for One is gone. Died and ended, with no hopes of ever coming back as a ghost, but in doing so he pushed away his friends. This little family he's found himself in.

There are helicopters and news anchors and paramedics and whatnot, and it's all too loud, too much, and it nearly overwhelms him.

So he disappears.

-----------

He doesn't want to go home to his lonely apartment so he doesn't. He can't call anybody or tell anybody because this is off the record and confidential to the nth level. So he goes to the one safe place he can think of.

Floating into the bar, he's not surprised to see it abandoned. Everything is still there, left behind by the previous owners, but nobody's there to greet him like usual.

It's fine. Danny expected this.

He didn't expect the ache in his core to come with it though.

He goes through the motions of hunting down a half decent first aid kit and gets to work, dumping alcohol on his wounds and sewing them up with practiced precision.

He's about halfway through with a particularly nasty gash on his arm when Kurogiri's portal opens in the middle of the bar, and the League steps out.

They look pissed, and Danny can't blame them. If he were them, he'd be pissed too. But now that his secret is out, he can finally do something he's been itching to do for months.

He ties off the stitches and wipes it down with a relatively clean rag before stepping up to Kurogiri. Everybody tenses, but with a nod from Kurogiri, they don't attack.

Danny transforms once more, and places his hands inside of Kurogiri's chest.

With his experience, it only takes a couple of minutes to separate the two. He pulls this purple, pulsing blob out of the host, and without anything to feed on, it dissipates.

Who's left is a man with clouds for hair and a bandage over his nose.

"i-I'm me again," he says, almost in awe.

"Took me a while to figure it out since I was undercover, but I figured that might help you out. Having a parasite forcibly put into your body like that can't exactly be good for your health."

"Thank you. Name's Oboro Shirakumo. Legally dead, I guess."

"Well, that makes two of us, I suppose."

"What do you mean? You're a daylight hero at the top of the charts, there's no way you're dead!"

Danny gives Toga a small, sad smile.

"Phantom is a daylight hero. Fenton, though...He's been legally dead for nearly a hundred years."

It takes a while to explain the accident and his growing up quirkless, but in the end, the League doesn't kill him. Maybe because they know it won't do them much good. But by the time he's done, he gives them an opportunity.

"Listen, I know things are complicated now, but...I've got a big house with more than enough rooms for everybody if you need a place to stay."

Wordlessly, the League looks to Shigaraki, who mulls over it for quite some time before shrugging.

"As long as it's better than this dump."

Danny can't help but give a relieved grin.

"Let's go home, then."

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Headaches

Wrecker x Reader

Summary- Wrecker always goes to reader for help with his constant headaches. Based on S 1, Ep 5-7 when Wreckers inhibitor chip was giving him bad headaches!

A/N- Hello fellow readers!! This is my second piece in TBB fandom, so i'm still learning the characters. Thanks for bearing with me! XoXo

Word Count- 838

Wrecker's groans filled the air. A hand clutching his head, eyes screwed shut, and head barred down.

Everyone was settling back on Ord Mantell after a successful bounty captured.

"You alright?" Hunter asked, before you could even turn to face Wrecker.

"Yeah, yeah." Wrecker peaked his head up, eyes trained on you. "Its just a headache..." Hunter wasn't convinced, but let it be.

Wrecker doesn't shift his gaze, giving you puppy-dog eyes.

With a smile on your face, you stand from your seat.

"C'mon Wrecker, it's getting late. Some sleep will help." This had become a common unfortunate for Wrecker. No one knew what was plaguing his head-splitting headaches, and Wrecker didn't want to drag the team down with them.

Wrecker grumbled but blindly followed you into one of Cid's unoccupied rooms.

He immediately threw himself onto the bed. You closed the door and ushered him back up so he could take the bulk of his armor off. He whined but did as he was told and sat up.

You reached him, gently resting your hands on either side of his face. Rubbing small circles with your thumbs. You stood between his legs, knees pressing on the side of the bed.

He leaned into your left palm, letting you hold his face. With eyes closed, he let out a sigh. His face was warm and heavy. For a second you thought you might have seen the stream of pain make its way to his temple. He flinched, but not at your touch.

"Bad one this time?" You babied him slightly, but who else was there to take care of him?

"They're all bad!" He exclaimed, arms going up and head rising sharply. He had a continuous headache for three days now, only having temporary relief with med patches.

You gave a small pout as he regretted his actions, pain striking him again. He signed deeply and you caressed his cheek with one hand, looking down at him.

"Okay, big guy. I get it, let's get you out of this." He mumbled a few words, likely about resisting, but he let you freely touch him.

You clipped off his arm plates first, then moved on to his chest-plate. Your hands lingered on his newly exposed body glove. He noticed, but didn't mention it.

The moment you slipped it off, his body slouched in exhaustion. You decided to play your cards.

"Poor baby... always protecting your team so well"

He looked up at you, nodding as he slowly got closer to you.

"And putting everyone before yourself."

He nodded again, lips slightly parted, hungry for your approval.

"What would we ever do without you?" You sold it with your last line, adding a sigh and a brush against his cheek.

He melted into you, arms wrapping around your waist, head falling to your breast. He squeezed you tight, letting out the day's stress.

"Die I guess."

With a laugh you let him do as he pleased, rubbing his back. The other hand brought up to rest on his neck.

After a few minutes of silence you pulled back. Between the long of the day hitting and your legs feeling numb, you were tired.

Wrecker gave a small whine when you did so, feet shuffling.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing, just tired." You stepped away to pull back the covers of the bed. He sat still, watching you. His mind was hazy from his headache, it hurt to move.

He hummed, shifting when you came back to him. You stretched out your hands, taking his. With a slight pull he stood up, towering over you.

It was comical how large he was, yet he still bent at your every word. He grasped onto every sentence, every command you gave him. Sometimes he felt that his only purpose was to serve you, not the Empire or Republic. Nothing you could do would even tempt him to hurt you. Even though he could snap you in seconds.

His head lowered, ready to follow you into bed.

"Hold on." You quickly turned to switch the lights off. His hand never left yours.

You crawled into bed first, Wrecker impossibly close behind you. You turned with your arms open, he obeyed and settled between them.

His weight was heavy on you, even just him snuggled onto your left half. The pressure was nothing but comforting to you, though. His head rested on your chest, arms wrapped around your side.

You beckoned him closer with a hand to his head, the other resting on his bicep.

"Sleep, ill still be here in the morning."

"I know..." He seemed already half-asleep by his slurred words.

"Good night, big guy."

It only took a minute for Wrecker to fall asleep. You let out a contented sigh. You worried his pain would keep him awake, as it had in the past.

Even with him asleep, you gently rubbed his temples. You basked in the comfort you were able to give.

While his headache might still be there in the morning, you would be there too.

A/N- Thank you so much for reading!

Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

[charliemwrites]

Jonny going down on shy thing the first time

He's gotta hold that squirmy baby down for surreee

😈😈 going down you say???? Don’t mind if he does….

It something he has to suggest and gently convince her he’d enjoy doing because she’d never ask. Even tries to tell him that he really doesn’t need to do that for her, he’s already convinced her that he’ll take care of her.

But he chuckles, even blushes a little himself. “Lass, it would be for you, don’t get me wrong…but I’m not asking just outta the goodness of my heart, if you get me.”

It takes her two days to work up the courage to say yes. And she insists on chugging water, eating pineapple, grooming herself, and showering thoroughly before they do anything. She’s still a little convinced that he’s doing this just for her benefit.

He starts her off slow as always with long, deep kisses and gentle wandering hands. Waits until she’s starting to relax into the familiar rhythms before easing forward with their plans. Hes trying not to go too fast, but his mouth is watering at the thought of tasting her. He keeps having to backtrack to soothe her.

He kisses down her body, eases her thighs open to settle between. She so warm and soft. Kisses up the inside of her thigh when she starts getting worked up and fussy, finding a good spot to start holding her.

When he first licks into her, she jumps like a live wire and almost kicks him. He coos at her when she apologizes, covering her face. Then he goes right back to it, licking at her pretty little clit and tasting the slick leaking from her tight entrance.

She twists and moans, tries to wriggle up the bed because it feels too good already and he’s just getting more enthusiastic. When she nearly gets away, he growls and drags her closer, sucking gently. He has to pin her down with his bulk while he works her over, obscenely loud as she gets wetter and wetter.

“Let me hear you, sweetie,” he purrs when she starts covering her mouth to hide her high-pitched noises. “how else can I know you feel good, huh? Cmon, baby, be good for me and I’ll reward you.”

Her hands up in his hair and his eyes nearly roll back in his head when she tugs. He lets her rock and squirm and guide him just where it feels best, locks it away in his memory. He carefully slides a finger into her, she screams and cums all over his hand and tongue, shaking and clenching.

“That’s my girl,” he moans against her dripping pussy, “so good, so pretty.”

He helps her ride it out, then eases her through aftershocks with light kisses and caresses to her hips. After she caught her breath, she sighs softly and cards her fingers through his hair.

“Thank you, Johnny,” she whispers so sweetly.

“You’re welcome, baby,” he murmurs. “Now, time for my reward, eh?”

“W-wha?!”

He laughs as he jerks her thighs over his shoulders and buries his face between her thighs.

[idesofrevolution]

Never Enough

I wanted so badly to be like him. I’d stare at him from afar every day I commuted home from work. He was tall, he was stacked, he was dark, he was fuckin perfect. Each time I saw those arms, twice the size of my head, I had to stifle til the little moan I knew would escape my lips. I didn’t know his name, I didn’t know anything about him except he must have lived nearby, since he was jogging nearly every day down the main strip. No shirt, beadlets of sweat glistening on that ebony skin, trailing down a set of washboard abs into a soaked pair of black shorts.

He was everything I knew I could never be. Surely a couple roid rages helped him along the way, but there’s something to be said about genetics. He had the genes I wouldn’t ever have. So I would sit there like creepy voyeurist every day and drool over this sweaty lug of a man I’d never met but so heavily admired.

I couldn’t tell you what the catalyst was for my google search that day. Maybe it was the fact I was bored out of my mind at work, or maybe that angst just kept compiling subconsciously until I finally did something about it. Either way, I found myself seeing what could be done about the way I looked, about who I was. A few pages down the line, well past 20 or so, I saw one result which piqued my curiosity.

“MelaSculpt” was the product. The little snippet of description on the search page described a fitness supplement for black men. I didn’t really think as I clicked the page that I would find anything of use to myself. After all, a black man I am not- but male is male right? And health supplements aren’t discriminative to my knowledge. The page for some company named VitaCorp opened quickly, and the page did take me back a bit. A studly mocha skinned man smirked back at me, flexing his vascular biceps while shoving a small orange pill into the foreground.

“MelaSculpt is the newest addition to VitaCorp’s growing list of nutritional supplements, which is aimed at improving the wellness and physique of men of color. Specially balanced for peak performance and quick results, this supplement will help YOU get the body of your dreams.” I scrolled past the ingredients list and disclaimers, much more interested in seeing the before and after photos of previous clients. The results were staggering. One man was easily 300 pounds overweight in his before picture, and after one treatment he was cut, lean, and healthy. Another was the opposite: gangly and paper thin before, ripped and bulked after. I kept swiping the pictures, before realizing the gallery was almost 200 photos. Before I could stop myself I had already purchased the bottle.

The rest of the day went by as normal, the draining, soul sucking grind of a day working had made me forget entirely that I had bought the supplements. So imagine my surprise upon arriving home when I saw a nondescript black package in my mailbox with a bright orange VitaCorp logo on it. It wasn’t possible! I looked, the company was out of Australia, I wasn’t even close. Unless they had a fulfillment center here in town, this couldn’t be it. Though, sure enough, as I ripped the plastic open, the matte black bottle rolled out into the palm of my hand.

I booked it inside, immediately rushing to my bathroom to examine the contents further. The futuristic font glistened the MelaSculpt name, teasing me as I ripped the plastic ring off the cap and twisted it open. The inside was full of cotton, and after pulling out what seemed like an inordinate amount of it, I saw two large orange pills in the bottom of the bottle. For a moment I was beyond pissed. What kind of rip off scheme did I buy into this time? I grabbed the package, shaking it upside down, hoping for a set of written instructions or a receipt. Luckily, a small card labeled “USER GUIDE” toppled onto the cold tile floor. I picked it up and began to read.

“Thank you for your purchase! We sincerely hope your experience with MelaSculpt enhances your life in every way you might hope. To begin your journey, take a test amount of a 1/4 pill to ascertain tolerance. Do not exceed 2 pills per person in totality.

WARNING: MelaSculpt is designed for use in men of color only. Side effects may include…”

I tossed the card aside, eager to get started. The orange pill glistened in my palm, presegmented into four doses. I broke off the first portion and swallowed it, washing it down with water from the tap. I stood a front the mirror, preparing myself to say goodbye to this corporeal prison and hello to a hunky Adonis like the jogger. It didn’t take long.

It had been merely second before I doubled over. I could hear the bubbling and groaning of my stomach, feeling it gurgle and pulsate. Immediately, I was convinced I was poisoned. Some random website I had found on Google supplied me Arsenic or Ricin… and I was dumb enough to take it. The first burp escaped my mouth, and I could feel instant relief. I stumbled into the bedroom, leaning on the dresser before actually looking down at my midriff. Beneath my shirt, which once was ill fitting and awkward, my stomach seemed to strain against the fabric. I ripped the shirt from my torso, buttons flying off it.

Beneath that cheap polyester were six little bumps vaguely protruding from my former gut. Another belch, and my swollen love handles seemed to collapse in on themselves. I was shocked, no, thrilled to see my waistline shift and bulk as two cumgutters started to balloon out. That was all fine and good, until my head began to spin. Yet another belch. I grasped onto the dresser, trying desperately to balance myself. But just as the world began to warp and blur, I thought I saw the slightest pinpricks of dark skin begin to cascade down my fingertips before it all went black.

I woke up on the ground. My head throbbed with a migraine straight from hell, rubbing my pulsating temples. Light streamed through the blinds, it was the next day for certain. As my throbbing eyes finally began to adjust, the world around me became clearer. Immediately, I saw them. Toes. My toes. BLACK toes. I wriggled my big toe, just to make sure they were in fact mine, before looking down at my hands. They were a dark ebony, tattoos sprinkled on my wrists and up my thick forearms. I scrambled to my feet and looked in the mirror.

What met my gaze were two meaty pecs, cobblestone abs, arms the size of a cantaloupe… a snaking bulge creeping further and further down my shorts. I hadn’t even looked at my face, I was too scared to look. No, scared wasn’t the right word, it was the mounting anticipation of just who I now was. I looked up, and my breath was taken away. My hair was a wild jumble of black curly locks radiating out into an afro. My chiseled jawline had a light stubble, the only two places on my entire body where I had hair. Every single inch of this sculpted, godlike body was smooth, chiseled, and powerful.

Taking a breath, the light scent of sweat emanated from my pits and feet. Just one whiff gave me a head rush as if I’d taken a hit of poppers. I panicked in the moment, refusing to believe this was who I now was. I pulled and prodded my face as if I were wearing a mask, but alas, this was my face. This was real. And a devilish smirk crept onto my face.

————

That was seven months ago. Truthfully, I’d adjusted pretty naturally into being Jabari. After a day or two of no showing at work, when the boss called the apartment I just explained I was the new tenant. I have no idea what happened to the guy before me. I was Jabari Jefferson, I’d just moved to town from Baltimore and was looking for a gig in personal training. The landlord just kinda accepted I was the new tenant, as long as the rent was paid she didn’t really care.

I started to get more comfortable going out in my new body, appreciating the winks and stares of those who passed. That kind of admiration changes a guy, you start to kind of believe it. I found my own new style, I found a gym to work at down the street from the house. I hit up the bars and happily took home any sexy adult I could find. They couldn’t get enough of that subtle, salty funk which seemed to linger around me; that testosterone laden musk which, admittedly got me and my 9 inch cock off after nearly every session on the basketball court. I made a name for myself around the neighborhood for being “that guy.” The one everyone wanted to be, the guy I always dreamed I’d become. That however, leads us to todays events.

The sun was beaming down on me, as I contently shot some hoops before I hit up my date at a bar down the street. The energy I felt every single day. It was so strong and powerful. That virility, that libido, that strength… it was addictive. I plopped down onto the bench, prying my size 13 LeBron 19’s from my damp, socked foot. Taking a not so guilty whiff of that sharp, satisfying scent of a damn good game, just as I did after every hoop sesh. I tossed the sneakers into the bag and pulled out my slides, only for something to roll right out of the bag as I did.

I looked down at my wet feet on the pavement to see the black bottle of MelaSculpt had fallen out of my bag. Truthfully, I’d forgotten where I put it months ago: out of sight, out of mind. But as I looked down at it, that little nagging voice in the back of my head began to pick at me. Those feelings I felt that day, that euphoric rush. The power of my flexing muscles, the taste of my sweat, the touch of my skin… it all came back to me at once.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. That sensation, that lust for power and strength more than ever before is as enticing as it sounds even now. I opened my eyes, and delicately grabbed the bottle. The pill and 3/4 rattled around the bottom of the black container, teasing me even further. I looked down at my glistening muscles, slick with sweat, and imagined just how much more I wanted. It wasn’t enough to be sexy and strong, I had to be the strongest. I had to be the one.

In that moment of irrevocable weakness, I twisted the cap off and swallowed the remainder of the pill I’d used the first time. I didn’t remember the instructions, I didn’t remember the warnings, I remembered that feeling. It was the only thing in my mind as a triple dose made its way down my throat. Just as the first time, I doubled over on the bench, my stomach rumbling audibly to even passersby. I groaned and let out a cacophonous belch, one that even surprised myself. My chest ballooned out almost comically as a cartoon. Veins bulged prominently out of my thinning skin as my necklace burst from the base of my throat, too fragile for the force of my widening neck.

I scampered and stumbled blindly into the locker room, fortunately empty at the time. I let out another cavernous burp, which echoed throughout the room. My thighs bubbled outward in grotesque disproportion to the rest of my musculature. I crawled on the floor toward a shower stall, making it in before just as the time before the world began to spin. I got one final glimpse of my biceps contort and spasm before it all went dark.

I awoke in that shower stall in agony. Every muscle felt stiff and stone like in the cramped stall. I couldn’t even fit my entire body in the stall, my feet stuck out from beneath the door. The smell, it was strong. I enjoyed that savory, delectable scent of masculine musk before, but this was different. The only word I could describe it with is pungent. Like high quality Gorgonzola, and it was pouring out of every crevice of my body. I pushed the stall door open, which nearly came off from the force of my strength.

Getting to my feet, I crept slowly toward the sink, feeling every contraction of every muscle, thinly veiled behind my hairless skin. I got to the mirror. I had tripled in size. Muscles bulged from every direction, built far past the natural threshold I even knew existed. My dreads had all but fallen off, leaving a buzzed hair which exposed veins protruding from even my own scalp. I could feel my heart pumping every single beat, and the blood flowing across my entire body. The power was incomprehensible, it was incredible. It was… far too much for me. I scrambled back to my bag, tossing my favorite sneakers across the room, never to fit my rank size 17 feet ever again.

The bottle seemed tiny in my massive hand, I strained to see the instructions printed on the card I’d left inside. The only thing I could make out was the final words at the bottom of the paper: “Effects permanent. Use with caution.” My heart skipped a beat, I looked at myself in the mirror, a roid-inflated version of the Jabari I had built, nurtured, valued, loved… this wasn’t me. It felt wrong. I looked down at my phone desperately trying to look up the VitaCorp webpage to no avail. I screamed and punched the wall, my fist going straight through the tile and plaster.

My breathing labored, heavy, and hard, I looked down at the bottle again, chucking it into the bin. I looked at myself in the mirror, accepting there in that moment that Jabari was gone. This walking muscle was who I now was. I now had to concoct an entirely new persona yet again. But the only thing I could think of, was how much I wanted what I had lost.

[crawfordpress]

Stickers based off of my Au Lapin Agile wallpaper are here!

They are small, just 1x2 inches.

Being any sort of artist in the 21st century is tough and being a cartoonist is no exception. It's hard for me to know how to move forward with dignity when it comes to getting the word out about my comics. So I decided that I would start sending PHYSICAL MAIL updates about my work to folks directly. BUT In order to qualify for bulk mailing rates I need at least 200 mailing addresses.

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Thanks!-Hugh

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