#I think that’ll be a fun bit to draw out

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF Roxy and Vanny have some girl time,,

[coffee-and-geto]

“WHO YOU GONNA CALL? CURSEHUNTER!”

“That’ll cost you 33,000 yens, ma’am.” “What?!” “Unless you offer other methods of payment. I’m flexible by nature, though.”

pairing: curse hunter! toji fushiguro x f!reader | kinkoctober m.list

summary: for halloween, you and your group of friends — where your boyfriend has taken a break from your relationship — decide to spend the evening in an old mansion turned into a hotel. with a rather strange staff and weird things going on in the mansion, everything leads you to end up calling a specialist to the situation — toji, the curse hunter for your evening can do his job, sure, but that doesn’t mean he’ll let you off the hook so easily when you can’t afford him…

warnings: +18 ONLY, smut, nsfw, AU with curses, haunted house, (slight) angst, cheating because the reader has an (ex) boyfriend but he’s a cheater, utahime makes an appearance, sex (p in v), squirting, oral (f! receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, fingering (f! receiving), overstimulation, lot of teasing, doggy + missionary positions, size kink.

wc: 5,963

“Wow!”

“It’s a really scary décor!” comments one of your friends, covering her mouth as her jaw drops in surprise.

“Same for the staff,” you add with a frown, glancing around at the spooky theme that’s everywhere—the walls, the bedrooms, even the kitchen and living room. But you can’t ignore how strange the staff in the lobby were when you all checked in for your rooms.

“Don’t be silly, it’s all part of the ambiance.” Your boyfriend nudges you playfully with his elbow, flashing his usual smirk, but this time it doesn’t work. You’re so tired of him.

“And she’s right,” snaps Utahime, who links her arm with yours to pull you further away from the annoying duo made up of one of your friends and your boyfriend. “But of course, coming from you…” She scrunches her nose, looking annoyed.

You sigh. “It’s fine, Hime, I can handle it—”

“This jerk needs a scare big enough to make him crap his pants, believe me,” she interrupts, gently tugging you along as she takes the lead to find your bedroom. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

You glance back toward the rooms of the others, including your boyfriend, then look forward with a disappointed pout. His attention should be on you, not anyone else—it should be shining like a star for you, not for some friend.

“Do you think the story about this manor is true?” you whisper when Utahime finally finds room 311-1.

She shakes her head but hurries to unlock the door, casting nervous glances at the dim hallway lights, which are anything but reassuring. “The point is to get us in the mood, obviously, but the staff went a bit too hard with the costumes…”

Finally, you both step into the room, where the soft, victorian decor makes your friend sigh with relief.

“At least the room itself isn’t weird,” she laughs, relaxing a little.

You smile faintly, taking in the shared bedroom. “Yeah, not too bad.”

In the next hour, the two of you have fun picking apart the manor’s ambiance, spinning wild theories about the place. Your mood lifts again, and since you already had dinner on the way here, at least you don’t have to worry about the creepy staff involving you in some haunted-house-style horror event.

Or worse, poisoning you.

But what a ridiculous idea, right?

There’s no reason for that. No one would do that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have come.

~~~~

Why always you?

Of course. Your brain had to convince you, “No danger; they haven’t announced a Halloween night event yet!”

“You will be paired up in twos by random draw,” a staff member dressed as the Joker announces cheerfully, handing out small slips of paper with numbers and a map that looks much like a pirate’s treasure map, but is actually the hotel floor plan. “When you enter the first room — different for each pair — you’ll find an object and a riddle that will indicate which room is next.”

He bounces slightly in front of the reception desk, nearly giddy with excitement, which is unsettling given the blood-red lines around the corners of his mouth.

“This means that whoever finds the most hidden spots will win a prize at the end of the night,” he concludes, looking over your group one by one. “But be careful — this mansion has a spooky history, and some ghosts may come to visit!” He laughs, joined by a few others.

As you examine your number, you look around for your boyfriend, hoping to have drawn the same number so you can spend some time with him despite the break he recently put on your relationship. But no.

One of your friends — Nami, the one who’d commented on the decor — is already giggling beside him, paying no attention to you or the boundaries she’s crossing with her little “friendly” touches.

You inhale deeply, trying to ignore the sharp sting of jealousy. Just then, Utahime leans over your shoulder, checking your number. “Hey, looks like we’re together!”

You let a smile spread over your face and head with her to the first floor, where the first prize is hidden.

“I hope they didn’t hire any actors to scare us, or I might just hurt someone,” you mutter darkly, the dim lighting and ornate wallpaper in the hallways sending a chill down your spine.

“Same,” Utahime chuckles softly, pulling out a small flashlight. She switches it on and shines it ahead. “This should help, right? Check the map.”

You do, studying the hallway details on the paper to get your bearings. “Yeah, we’re close to room 456,” you say, looking up.

In a long walk that feels like it stretches out forever, Utahime and you move at the same steady pace, maintaining a comfortable distance, wrapped in silence as though no one else is on any floor.

“We’re here,” you announce as Utahime shines her light on the brass plaque for room 456.

You open the door carefully, flicking on the light, and catch a vague movement out of the corner of your eye near the edge of the sitting area. You snap your head in that direction, but there’s nothing.

“Did they set up special effects?” you wonder aloud.

“Probably,” Utahime reassures you, heading towards a bookshelf where a velvet-covered box with emerald and gold accents catches her eye. She grabs it, opening it to find a slip of parchment and a key.

You take a more careful look around the room, inspecting every corner, and almost miss what Utahime has found until she calls out to you.

“Next room, here we come!” she says happily.

~~~~

“Is it just me, or have we been walking for a while?” you remark after several minutes of silence, back in the hallway but on the second floor this time.

“Yeah, feels like it.” Utahime swings her flashlight around, lighting up the walls, curtains, and carpet in the dimly lit halls. It’s as if the already faint lights were growing even weaker.

BANG!

Both of you jump, turning in unison towards the unknown source of the noise.

“Fuck,” Utahime curses, “them and their damn effects.”

You exhale a shaky breath meant to calm your still-racing heart, but the cold breath on the back of your neck isn’t helping. “Utahime, is that you—” You turn to look at your friend, who’s cautiously moving closer to you, when a piercing female scream echoes throughout the hotel.

“Can we cancel this night?” Utahime doesn’t wait for your answer, grabbing your arm and dragging you into a frantic sprint down the corridors, where more and more doors seem to open and close on their own.

Then, suddenly, something grabs you by the arm, pulling you into the darkness.

When you finally open your eyes, you’re half-sprawled on the floor in partial darkness, with only the faint candlelight the hotel keeps in the eerie corridors as a precaution. You stand up immediately, pulling out your phone in an attempt to send a message to your friends’ group chat, but no one is active.

You then try to call reception, your eyes scanning an environment that no longer feels amusing in the slightest. This has to be part of the game.

Doesn’t it?

But after several rings, no one picks up.

“Goddamnit,” you mutter.

You resign yourself to finding a door, a room, or anything that could help you call the police or figure out a way to avoid getting caught by a real ghost in this creepy manor.

Your gaze scans the walls, your phone’s light barely illuminating the darkest corners due to its low battery. And the only thing that stands out is a notice pinned to the wall that has you scrambling to get your phone out again.

IN CASE OF EMERGENCY DURING THE HALLOWEEN HUNT, IF THE RECEPTION DOESN’T RESPOND, CALL THIS NUMBER:

You dial it, barely caring who it might reach given the seriousness of your situation.

After the second ring, someone picks up, their tone filled with mocking amusement and a hint of nonchalance:

“Hello?”

You’re saved.

~~~~

Back to square one — you’re anything but saved.

“This is the emergency response?” you spit out, feeling lost and baffled as you stand before a man approaching you about twenty minutes after a more-than-frustrating phone call.

He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with toned muscles and an arrogance that seeps from every pore of his skin.

“Toji Fushiguro, at your service, ma’am,” he replies sarcastically, giving a slight bow, a smug smile stretching the scar across his mouth.

“And you are…?”

“A curse hunter — don’t ask too many questions, I’m used to it,” he cuts you off, striding past without a glance. “Just follow me.”

You stand there, speechless, frozen to see if he’ll react, but he just keeps whistling and walking.

You were in deep trouble.

Reluctantly, you catch up, glaring at him coldly as he gives you a quick glance. “Do you have the money?”

“That’s really all you care about?” you retort bitterly. “Isn’t the hotel supposed to cover emergencies like this? We’re all lost, and—”

“Careful!!” Toji pushes you against the wall, pulling out a unique sword with a red and gold hilt and slashing it sharply through the air.

Nothing seems to have been hit at the moment, but the distinct sound of the slice is unmistakable.

“So, it wasn’t a joke when they said there were ghosts?”

“Curses,” he corrects, sheathing his weapon. He surveys the rest of the hallway and looks up at the ceiling. “They’re on the floor above.”

Several minutes later, you’re there, with high-pitched screams filling the air; among them, you recognize Utahime’s and some of your other friends. You start to rush to her, but Toji grabs you by the waist.

“Hold up!” he tuts, looking a bit more serious. “The lady stays here.”

“But my friend is in there!” you protest, struggling to break free.

“What a little firebrand!” Toji grumbles, pinning you against the wall. His warm breath brushes your face, and you hold back the urge to kick him. When he breathes in to speak, your intoxicating scent fills his nose. “I’m the pro here, got it? I’ll save your friend, and then we’ll talk about the price.” He releases you when you hold his gaze firmly enough to make him trust you.

“If anything happens to her, I’ll make you eat every one of your damn curses, okay?”

He snorts before disappearing down the corridor.

In the next hour, all the curses are quickly neutralized — even if no one actually sees them, their heavy, lingering “presence” was enough to give away what was happening.

“Most people went back to their rooms,” Toji informs you, guiding you toward your floor.

“That was fast.”

“As usual,” he sighs, hands in his pockets.

“Why isn’t the staff responding?” you ask, feeling more reassured and open to conversation now.

“It’s a real haunted manor, so they know that when you play, you just risk being bugged by the curses, nothing more.” He shrugs, pulling out his phone to check the time, and you mentally slap yourself for noticing how his forearm muscles flex slightly. “Plus those fuckers are never there on time to pay me, even though they require my services.”

“Oh, right, your payment…” You avert your eyes, walking past your room without entering. Maybe it’s best to go look for the staff…right?

“I only take cash,” Toji says, putting his phone away. “And I charge by the half-hour.”

You blink, swallowing nervously because you know you lied earlier on the phone when he told you the amount he typically earns per job.

“…Yeah?”

He chuckles softly, stopping to face you, while you do the same. Up close, he’s breathtaking — his emerald-green eyes, sharply defined jaw, his whole form could have been sculpted from ice.

“That’ll cost you 33,000 yens, ma’am.”

“What?!”

“Unless you’re offering alternative methods of payment. I’m flexible, by nature,” he adds ironically.

Your face falls, and you try to stay calm, knowing you’re in real trouble if he realizes you barely have enough for a can of soda.

“Great, so, I’m going to get paid by a pretty lady, huh?” he whispers, leaning in dangerously close until your back gently hits the wall.

“Can’t you lower the price?” you ask, slightly flustered, forcing a smile to hide the panic clutching at your insides. “Maybe my friends and I can work something out to pay you.”

“But it’s the one who calls who pays,” Toji coos softly, lifting a hand to play with a strand of your hair. “They didn’t ask for anything.”

“But they were saved,” you insist, feeling like a pleading child trying to avoid punishment.

Toji gently shakes his head, a barely-there smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t you have a boyfriend? Maybe he’ll take care of it, then.”

“Yes, but…” You feel a chill at the mention of your boyfriend, whom you haven’t seen since the start of the evening, “we need to find him. He’s probably asleep.”

“Describe him to me, I’ll tell you if he’s around,” Toji murmurs, and his words feel like a subtle threat as you describe him. His brow furrows. “You sure?”

“Yes, why?” Suddenly, your heart starts pounding faster.

What’s with that reaction?

He doesn’t respond, darting off down the hallway without waiting for you to catch up — though you do, anyway. It’s as if each step drives a knife deeper into your chest.

Please, don’t tell me they—

You freeze, stopping in front of a room with a slightly open door, where your boyfriend is indeed present.

But he’s not alone.

Perched above him on a sofa is Nami, straddling him, passionately kissing him. The worst part is seeing them smile at each other without noticing you, your boyfriend’s hands gently stroking his “friend’s” hips.

“They have been here since I came.”

You flutter your eyes closed.

Toji stands silently beside you. “So, he’s cheating on you, or am I wrong?” he murmurs, perhaps also feeling uncomfortable at the sight.

You step back, your chest tight, biting your lip. You hold back tears of both anger and hurt. It stings a thousand times more seeing your partner betray you like this rather than just admitting he no longer loves you, doesn’t it?

You look up at Toji, your eyes likely already red and gleaming.

No, this is definitely anger. You just want to let some curse devour him whole.

“I don’t have the money, sorry,” you admit through clenched teeth, turning on your heel to leave. “Do whatever you want; I don’t care anymore.”

“Hey.” He loosely grabs your wrist, stopping you.

You barely turn back. You’re hurt, yes, but also furious that you didn’t end things with your boyfriend yourself. What a shame, right? It should’ve been you hurting him, not him hurting—

“You know what I see?” Toji takes a few steps toward you, a mocking smile on his lips. He leans in to speak near your ear, his well-built chest brushing against yours. “I see someone filled with rage. You want revenge, don’t you?”

But you’re in no mood to laugh.

He sighs, realizing his attempt at humor fell flat. “Alright, alright. Listen.” He stands in front of you, hands still in his pockets as he leans against the wall. “I’m not the best at comforting people, but… how about a deal?”

You blink.

“We’re both in an… awkward situation, you see. I need to get paid, and you’re on the brink of committing murder.” A smile spreads across his lips.

You still don’t smile.

“So,” he looks down, a bit distracted and uncomfortable despite his smug expression, “I wasn’t totally joking when I said I’d accept other forms of payment. Plus, I think your lil’ guy here needs someone to teach him a less—”

But you cut him off instantly, grabbing the collar of his black T-shirt with both hands and pulling him toward you to crush your lips against his.

Toji, surprised for a second, quickly recovers, gripping your hips to pull you impossibly closer, his lips following yours, attempting to soothe the fury they carry in anger.

He moves backward with you, eyes closed as he pushes open another slightly ajar door to a room, kicking it shut behind him. He pulls back, watching you intently.

Your gaze softens oddly as it meets his. He raises an eyebrow, almost repeating his question from a minute ago, and you nod. “I accept,” you murmur, and his face lights up.

Leaning toward you again, his lips capture yours in another heated kiss that ignites with raw desire. “Fuck. What kind of boyfriend he is, huh?” Toji growls between breathless kisses. “With a girlfriend with lips this sweet, hmm?”

Your feet tangle with his, each step unsure, trying to avoid falling anywhere other than the softness of the couch. You gasp, trying to catch your breath, but everything about Toji makes breathing impossible. “Toji, you—”

“Bet he’s got a small one, doesn’t he?” The blush flooding your face makes him smirk, his scar brushing your jaw as his mouth descends to your pulse. “Knew it.” He nips at your shoulder, his tongue darting out to leave a mark that’ll remind you of him for a good while.

“Toji, please—” you sigh, wincing in pleasure as he presses open-mouthed kisses down your neck, leaving two hickeys in his wake. You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle the sweet sounds spilling out — especially when he brings his knee up between your legs, rubbing it sloppily against your heated core.

“Let ’em out, doll,” he mutters, his hands roaming across your chest slowly before he yanks, popping the buttons off and exposing your bare skin to him. “I want him to hear just how good I make you feel, how loud I can make you scream my name.”

He doesn’t even give you time to protest; he’s already unclasping your bra and kneading your soft breasts, leaving you arching with pleasure from his teasing alone. And if his hands can do this... what about his cock?

He takes his time, pinching and rolling your hardened nipples between his fingers. You moan for real this time, back arching, chest heaving with quickened breaths. “Ahh— Wan’ more,” you whine, the sound going straight to his strained, clothed arousal.

“Am I the one who’s supposed to be saying that?” Toji laughs, enjoying the sight of you squirming and pouting under his teasing, his tongue swirling and rolling over one breast while his fingers toy with the other.

“Toji.”

He lifts his head, pulling his mouth from your breast with a wet pop and tilting his head to the side, that devilish grin still on his lips. “What is it, doll?” He doesn’t even bother wiping away the thin string of saliva connecting his lips to your sensitive nipple.

You writhe beneath him, trying to shimmy off your pants, but the tight space between you two makes the task more challenging than expected.

He chuckles — a rough sound — and grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head, trapping you beneath him. “Getting needy, are we? Looks like you need a hand,” he coos, sliding his thick fingers down your bare chest before slipping the tip of his finger under your waistband.

The touch is electrifying. Both infuriating and warm, as Toji tests your patience.

With his finger still just inside your clothing, he trails it down to your hips before stopping. “Lift your hips for me.” You obey, his low “good girl” making your poor core clench around nothing. His finger is soon joined by the rest of his hand, and he easily slides it down to remove your pants in one smooth motion. “There you go…”

“When I said I wanted more, I meant here,” you mumble, glancing down at the small damp patch in the center of your panties, so exposed for him.

“Naughty, huh?” Toji releases your wrists, kneeling down between your thighs. He grips your hips tightly, his thumbs pressing firmly, leaving slight indents in your skin. “So pretty, so soft,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your inner thighs, kissing and nibbling until you’re gasping.

“You— You’re teasing,” you pant, burying your fingers in his dark hair, tugging lightly when he brushes his nose against your puffy clit through the damp fabric.

“I am,” he admits, laying the flat of his tongue over the wet patch before inhaling. “Smells and tastes so good, doll.” And your cheeks go flush again as he quickly strips your panties off and tosses them onto the couch’s headrest.

“Sh-shut up!”

“You’re adorable when I get dirty with you, but you’re just as dirty, so don’t,” he says, wrapping his sculpted arms around your hips and pulling you against his face. “try to turn the tables,” he finishes, his voice muffled between your drenched folds. “Wonder why that jerk cheated on you,” he adds, lapping at your clit as you let out needy whimpers.

“Shit. Easy, I’m sensitive,” you babble, digging your nails into his shoulder as he starts devouring you with real intent.

“Love those sounds, by the way,” he murmurs, sucking on your sweet bundle of nerves, ignoring the persistent ache in his pants as his cock begs to be freed, desperate to plunge deep inside you.

Your eyelids flutter closed, your teeth sinking into your lower lip, trying to keep Toji’s name from spilling from your mouth as he tightens his grip on you, practically smashing your soaked core against his face but the way his lips close everytime around your clit with slowness is just unbearable.

Sounds of heavy breaths, licks, and wetness fill the room, turning the atmosphere almost sauna-like. Your pulse pounds in your temples, your heartbeat frantic.

“You’re still not loud enough.” And he remedies that quickly, pressing his nose against your clit as he slowly thrusts his tongue inside you, your walls clenching around it with lewd, wet sounds because of how slick you are for him. And now, he’s thrusting his tongue even deeper, humming in approval when you throw your head back, tugging harder on his dark locks.

“Shit! Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” you cry out, toes curling as your nails dig into his skin before scratching it up.

“That’s it,” he purrs, helping you buck your hips against him as you mewl and moan thanks to his tongue. “Let him hear how good ya feel, yeah?” He brings a hand to your clit to rub it gently, then pinches it roughly. He bullies your snug cunt with each deep and precise thrust of his tongue, brushing your sweet spot every time, and you’re sure you’ll die if you don’t come right after.

And he probably knows it, because as if reading your mind, he withdraws his tongue from your twitching insides and licks his lips shamelessly — your glossy juices shining on them.

“Wanna hear how good you feel louder, doll, ’kay?” He brings a finger to your trembling entrance, pressing gently against the delicious barrier just waiting to be crossed. “You’re so close, baby,” he chuckles, eyes dilated with desire. “Hear me out, I’m gonna make you cum, and you’re gonna be a good girl. Understood?” He gently pats your thigh.

You nod, lips trembling from anticipation, eyes half-closed as he inserts his forefinger into you — and now you’re even tighter with his digit replacing his tongue. How would it feel with something bigger? The pad of his finger hits your sensitive g-spot right away.

“Ah!” you whine. The knot in your stomach coils tighter, ready to explode. “Toji, I’m almost cumming, please, just—”

He cuts you off, a low grunt escaping his lips as he crashes his mouth on your clit, treating it like a toy and bullying it over and over until you can’t stop your legs from shaking uncontrollably — as he finger-fucks you and sucks on your oversensitive clit.

“Fuck! Feels s’good, Toji, please,” you moan, your insides throbbing around his finger, while his second finger joins the first, finger-fucking you as you squirm on the couch, feeling the wet patch under your ass marking the mess you’re making.

“Cum, doll, now,” Toji orders, his voice strained, unable to ignore the throbbing in his own pants. His mouth is relentless on your clit, his fingers curling inside you just right, as if coaxing your body to surrender completely.

Right at the edge, you wrap your legs around his neck, sobbing out his name as you cum — hard. Your walls clamp down around his fingers, your body trembling as you release.

Your boyfriend never made you cum this hard, not even close.

You realize you actually squirted when you hear Toji swallowing, his eyes fluttering closed as he drinks every drop, even as your body keeps spasming after he finally pulls his fingers out of you.

When your breathing slows, Toji pulls back from your thighs, looking up to meet your gaze after the powerful orgasm he just brought you to.

“Tell me…” He licks the last traces of you off his chin, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Is that the first time you’ve squirted?” he asks, leaning down to place a tender kiss on your oversensitive clit.

You bite back a whimper, trying to steady your trembling legs. “Y-Yeah,” you confess, swallowing hard, noticing his black shirt dampened with your cum. “I didn’t mean to make that mess, I’m sorry—”

“Why’re you apologizing?” He kisses your inner thigh, soothing your shakiness with soft caresses. “The only one who should be begging for forgiveness is the jerk in the other room,” he mutters in a low, rough voice. The contrast between his tender kisses and harsh words about your boyfriend makes your heart skip a beat. “I bet he’s crying like a lil’ boy,” he chuckles.

You force a smile, though there’s still a slight sting from the betrayal. “He should be, yeah.”

His expression softens. “C’mon, doll, don’t give me that look,” he sighs, rising from his crouched position to remove his pants. “Just forget him, even if it’s hard, hmm?” He ignores the growing bulge in his boxers, leaning down to kiss you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

You hum, kissing him back slowly, eyes closed. With each kiss, you feel a warmth, a tenderness there that surprises you. Why do his lips feel so gentle, so... caring? A feeling you can’t quite place?

Between kisses, you take soft breaths, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. He doesn’t resist, his tongue teasing along your soft, warm lips.

“Want to stop?” he murmurs, his voice unexpectedly soft and low.

You flutter your eyes open and shake your head. “I’d like to continue, if you don’t wanna stop,” you mutter back.

His gaze softens more, seeing you beneath him, flushed and vulnerable. “Of course. I don’t think I could stop even if I tried… especially not with…” His gaze drops, his cheeks flushing slightly, “...this.”

You glance down at his painfully hard length pressing against his boxers, the small wet patch testifying to how badly he wants you.

“Mm, sorry,” he grumbles.

But you gently cup his face, pulling him into another kiss as you reach down to slip his boxers off. He helps you free him from his strained confines, and you both share a heated kiss. Toji leans over you, leaving soft kisses along your lips, cheeks, jaw, and down your neck.

The tender moment gradually heats up as impatience grows, your legs tangling with his. When something warm brushes your stomach, you shiver, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist.

His size… he’s big. His cock is thick and already straining, eager to be buried deep inside you.

“Can you fuck me?” you whisper, blinking up at him with soft, pleading eyes.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Toji chuckles, a low rumble shaking his chest.

He grabs you by the hips, laying you down on the couch to position you as he aligns himself at your entrance. Toji takes his cock in his hand and guides it to you, so big compared to your cute, petite pussy that’s about to take all of him in so well…

When the flushed tip of his cock brushes against your soaked folds, you hold your breath to keep from moaning even before he’s begun. But Toji can be a bastard in his own way — drawing slow, torturous circles around your puffy clit, then sliding down to gather your juices from between your folds, which he spreads apart to make room for him.

“As honest as you,” he scoffs, gently tapping your tight ring of resistance with the tip. He looks down at you, your form much smaller than his — Toji is big all over, from his muscles to his cock, and all he wants is to ruin your smallness.

And this bastard keeps eye contact, teasing the entrance with his slick tip, just to watch you break — your lips parted, eyes slightly squinted, hands weakly gripping him.

“Toji,” you moan weakly, squirming gently. “Please, just more, please.” And your voice is so soft, so velvety, he might have come right then.

Oh God, you’ll be the death of him.

And as if it wasn’t enough, you keep repeating his name in that same tone, making his urge to slip inside you unbearable.

“Fuck, doll, don’t moan my name like that or—” But you wrap your legs tighter around him, pulling his tip to your dripping entrance so that it’s already inside, your gummy, warm walls tightening around him, drawing him in deeper.

“I wanna take it,” you whine softly, bucking your hips forward, your snug cunt swallowing half of him. “Oh—”

“Ah— Shit,” Toji hisses, leaning down to press your small body against his, burying his face in your neck. But the worst part is, he seems to lose control of his body, which thrusts deeper into you on its own, your clingy walls gripping him tightly from the start.

He stretches you too quickly, but it feels so good you wonder if you might be ovulating. “Ah— Oh— Fuck, s’deep, s’big,” you babble, low and cute mumbles, as you curl your toes and roll your eyes back from his size. “Too big, Toji, too big.”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” He pushes in even deeper until you’ve taken all of him and his tip brushes your womb.

Without even moving, he nearly came. But he has to hold back. To make you come on his cock, fuck you senseless, and let you scream his name so that the entire manor knows you’re his.

“Mine,” Toji groans, thrusting gently into you once you’ve adjusted, his hips meeting yours perfectly. “So wet f’me.” His breathing becomes ragged, his thoughts consumed by how impossibly tight you are. “And so fuckin’ tight.” He speeds up the pace a little, reveling in the sound of your mewls growing louder. “Gonna make you mine tonight, ’kay?”

In the room, only the squelching sounds and the slap of skin against skin fill the air. Your mind spins, the pleasure so intense and overwhelming that you can barely respond to what Toji says.

You’re reduced to a pile of whimpers, thinking only of TojiTojiTojiToji.

And he knows it, especially as you tighten around him and he lets out a guttural groan. His hips pound into you with more speed and roughness, but it’s still not enough. He wants you to fall apart for him when you cum, fucking your little pussy with his big, big cock.

Such a filthy size kink.

Then he pulls out, grabbing your hips to flip you over onto your stomach, making sure the plush cushions support you properly, and he slams back in, pounding rougher, deeper, and so much better than a second ago.

Now, you feel him at a depth you’ve never reached before, your sweet cunt clinging to him each time he pulls out only to push in just as deep. “Ah! So deep, so deep, Toji,” you sniffle, unable to keep your moans quiet any longer. “Wanna cum, gonna cum with you.” You bury your face between two cushions.

The heat between your two bodies is almost unbearable, small beads of sweat rolling down Toji’s toned chest as he chuckles, half-breathless, leaning over you to sink even deeper.

And you wonder how it’s even possible.

“You take it so well, doll,” he purrs, tightening his grip around your waist as your twitching insides pulse around his cock, right on the edge of making him spill his hot load inside you. But the rhythmic slap of his heavy balls against your clit is enough to keep him from the edge, for now. “You want to be filled up? Say it, baby. I don’t—  No, he can’t hear you,” he chuckles, kissing your neck as the depth makes you see stars through tears of pleasure.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whine louder, “wanna be full of your cum, please, Toji.” His thick, heavy balls are now the biggest turn-on, so big you just want to drain them to fill yourself up. “I’m close, so close,” you sob, pleading with him.

“Me too, doll, so let’s cum together, yeah?” he chortles, because, God, how small and cute you are. He admires, for a moment, the hickeys covering your skin and the scratches you left on his arms. He’s fucking you like a mad, possessed man.

You sniffle, nodding and writhing to take him fully, but you already have. Your wet, tight, warm cunt swallowing him up, desperate for every inch. He’ll fulfill his mission. Even if he wasn’t paid, he stopped caring about that long ago. Now he just wants youyouyou.

And as your synchronized hip movements, bringing the both of you to the edge, you cum hard again. Your sweet pussy clenches around his length, swallowing and milking him as your shaky legs can’t support you anymore. A cry of pleasure escapes you. Toji shuts his eyes, moaning your name as he empties himself inside you, filling your womb with his thick, sinful load.

Only stolen breaths, the overwhelming scent of sex, and small whimpers remain in the aftermath. Silence falls, all troubles vanish, and the night finally grows peaceful.

You wipe away the dried tear tracks on your cheeks and turn your head slightly to meet Toji’s calm gaze. “What about my shirt?”

“I’ve got a spare; want it?” he offers, not pulling out right away. You simply nod, and he adds with a smirk, “An’ if you’re free tonight, you’re up for a little getaway with me?”

“But Utahime and—”

“They’ll wake up like nothing happened, I promise,” Toji reassures you, and you grin.

“Deal.”

~~~~

Meanwhile, back in the room with Nami and your ex, a 4 grade curse — harmless but just annoying enough — flits around happily. Nami is fast asleep on the floor, but your ex has dark bags under his twitching eyes, having not slept a wink.

Between your cries of pleasure and everything else that went on, he understood that the mysterious man who had come to “rescue” them was thoroughly enjoying everything he’d been hoping to do with you for weeks, despite your refusals — the reason behind your “break” or rather, breakup. The curse, left by Toji on purpose, has a parrot effect: it repeats everything it hears in a loop, driving anyone nearby mad.

“Ah! Shit, Toji! Feels so good!” it shrieks in a piercing voice, buzzing around your ex’s head like a fly.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

a/n: hey everyone :) so okay okay, this fic contains much more smut than i usually write (hope at least it’ll be worth it haha). i still feel bad about having missed kinkoctober but anyway, at least we’re here <3 i’ve struggled a bit with the start of the fic but the smut was (for once lol) quite easy to write. happy reading <33

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @whathappenedtobeenhappy-blog @drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wawuwe @cybersomniq

@sanemistar @monokaix

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXX)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Several therapeutic white boards were drawn on. Everyone reading was so good and normal about it. So were the characters, presumably.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Additionally: apologies to Adwen and Allmune on ao3, to whom I directly said I wouldn't do this; I lied. (Whoopsie).

Also additionally: Bonus fic snippet you may have missed

💚👻👽👻💚

“Are you hungry?” Danny’s new therapist asks, her fingers playing with her pen.

Danny shrugs.

Pretty quickly, they’d figured out that these sessions went…worse…when Danny was hungry. Hunger makes him upset. Being upset makes him want to speak less. Not talking ruins the whole affair.

“Want to talk?”

Danny shakes his head, and sprawls out onto the couch—he’s allowed to basically position himself however he feels comfortable in the room, and if he has a choice, he’d rather just hang out horizontal. Does it make getting back into his chair harder? Yes. Is there a lady with super strength right outside his the office door who is willing to pick him up at a moment’s notice? Also yes.

(It’s kind of silly, but, if his legs ever stop feeling so sore…Danny is. Well.)

(He’s kind of curious how tall he’d be if Diana held him piggyback.)

“Want to draw? Paint?”

Drawing is a high-stress activity. Danny tends to default to memories when he draws these days, and he’d rather not think about that right now. Finger-painting is another option, but it’s pretty messy…even if it would be fun…

Danny’s therapist (?) (he's pretty sure that’s what she is?) is a blonde woman, with a quiet face and piercing eyes. She’d probably be less intimidating if they knew each other’s language, if Danny’s being honest; usually these types of people try to talk their way out of being intimidating. Instead, Danny sits on her pinstripe couch in unbranded sweatpants and a thin white tee, and she wears a suitjacket over her tights.

It’s all very strange. It’s not more strange than his chaperone’s usual outfit of plate armor and tiara, but still.

“Want the language bócastréon again?”

…Danny hums in thought, hands crossed across his chest. He’s pretty sure they’ve tried building a thing that’ll detect his language, like, three different times by now, but every time it winds up like the Fenton Ghost Gabber: mindlessly repeating his words back to him, unable to make heads or tails on translation. At least these trials don’t end every one of his statements with I am a ghost, fear me.

Oh well. It’s better than nothing. Danny shrugs.

The therapist clicks the machine on from a switchpad at her elbow, and a blue holographic screen fills the air. Danny only spends a little bit of time batting at the display like a cat, watching the light play off his hands for his own amusement.

“Please begin,” the thing says, and the same text pops up on the screen.

“S’up,” Danny tells it, and grins when the little display starts its very, very, long, and very, very familiar, buffering process.

Danny already knows this isn’t going to work. He might as well have fun with it.

He talks about his day, he talks about his old bedroom; he talks about what he had for lunch, toying with one of the sucker-toys he woke up with ages ago even though he doesn’t know who gave them to him. He talks about his friends, because he loves them—not Tuck and Sam, who he’ll miss the rest of his life, but Mikey and Poindexter, and what school had been like for him. Quiet topics. Easy topics.

Normal topics.

…Danny isn’t’ sure he’ll ever have normalcy again, but…remembering it isn’t so bad either. He plays with his weird suction cup toy with both hands and he talks.

“…So I ended up getting stuck without the Speeder like a million zillion miles from the portal. I thought Jazz was going to kill me, since she needed it to take her girlfriend to prom the literal next night, so I had to run around for like forty minutes looking for someone to help me out— but at least Wulf was like ‘Ne estas problemo’ and he helped me sniff out the weird cheese Vlad had left in the center console of the Speeder the week before—“

The box beeps. “Lingvo identigita: Kryptonian.”

Danny bolts upright as fast as his limbs let him.

Danny was never as good as Tucker was with Esperanto, but—  But that’s Esperanto. Danny’s hung out with Wulf long enough, did enough Duodioma with the stupid little muppet bird mascot. The box didn’t call it the right thing, but—

—But—

The therapist looks at Danny, eyes wide. Danny can’t even look at her. He’s too busy staring at the discount-aisle Ghost Gabber.

“Diru ĝin denove,” Danny demands sharply. Say it again.

The screen automatically translates his words as he speaks—in Esperanto, and then into their own language, the two transcriptions populating side by side when Danny speaks.

At this point, the woman’s mouth is open. Danny would be right there with her, but—

Danny sits there, numb.

He has a language. A language that is mostly guesswork on his part and the occasional swears Wulf will teach him as a joke, but, still, a language.

A language made up by a doctor in Poland. In the eighteen…somethings. And these people with superpowers know it. And they know what it is.

And the therapist looks at him, stunned, with new eyes, as if she knows something new about him now.

…What the hell is Kryptonian?

*

There isn’t Kryptonian plural. Danny thought there there might be.

There isn’t.There is pretty much only one.

One. Singular. Kryptonian.

That feels worse, somehow.

*

Notes taken [DATE REDACTED] 2023, 22:37 UTC.

Participants are:

KE: Kal-El of Krypton, Codename: Superman. JD: Patient, John Doe, Codename: N/A. Patient file attached.

Note: Conversation was recorded in Kryptonian. Machine translation has been provided for convenience.

*Addendum: Yeah, I can get Jor-El on this, no problem –Supes

KE: This conversation will be recorded. Are you alright with that? JD: Conver…? KE: (Writing gesture) This talk. JD: Oh! Yes. KE: Good morning. My name is Kal-El, and I am of Kryptonian descent. On Earth, I serve as a protector. My title on Earth is Superman. JD: Superman? KE: Yes. JD: (Laugh) KE: Thank you. May I know your name? JD: (No answer) KE: Take your time. You may decline as well. JD: …I… (Pause). I do not… KE: That is alright. Do you have hobbies? JD: …What? KE: What do you like to do? JD: …I like to learn about space. I like to…when the fast child…we play games? KE: The fast kid? Impulse? JD: Impulse? (Incredulous) KE: That is his title, yes. JD: Why is his name Impulse? That is… Is that an insult? KE: I think he chose it? JD: (Stunned silence) KE: You like space? JD: Y…yes. KE: Tell me about it? JD: Do they not tell you about me? KE: I hear news. I have not met you face to face. JD: (Shrugs) KE: Not since you bit me, anyway? JD: I bit you? (Incredulous) KE: You were injured, and you were scared. I did not mind. JD: I am sorry! It was an accident! (Upset) I did not mean to! I do not remember— KE: It is alright, it is alright! (Placating) JD: (Cries) KE: Hey… (Touches shoulder) Oh, sorry. I should not do that. It is alright. My dog bit me yesterday, and my son bit me the day before. It is alright. You did not hurt me. JD: (Still crying, hard to decipher) You have a dog? KE: Yes! I have a dog! He is also from space. His name is Krypto. Here, I have pictures! (Takes out communicator)

*NOTE: pictures mentioned contain images of Superdog and Superboy(II)

JD: (Still crying) Are you supposed to ask me questions?? I have been here… I have been here for a long time. People want to know about what I am, and where am I from, and what I can do, yes? KE: Well…yes, but there is a lot of time. There is no limit. JD: (Wipes nose.) KE: All I am supposed to ask you today is if you have any allergies. See?

        *NOTE: List of potential allergens has been attached to patient file.

JD: (Takes list from KE) Allergi…? Oh. No. I am… No food makes me sick. I can eat all foods. I cannot take…there is a sick medicine. For a cough. I cannot take that. KE: Good to know! (Alarmed) I’ll tell your doctors. Do you like your doctors? JD: …Yes. (Shyly) They are nice. KE: Wonder Woman says that she already asked if you feel safe. Do you feel safe with your doctors? JD: I do. Everyone here is kind. I eat a lot. I get exercise. We play games. I take breaks. I see space. I do not worry here, unless I get scared by accident. KE: I am…very glad to hear that. (Chokes up.) My son is about half your height. If my son was far away, I would want someone to help him too. We only want to do our best for you, alright? Please tell us if something is wrong. JD: So I can fight? KE: Pardon? JD: I am meant to fight, right? KE: No, no—not fighting. Just healing. And resting. JD: And then after… I am supposed to fight? KE: No. No, not—you don’t have to fight. The only thing we need is for you to be healthy. We don’t need you to fight anyone. JD: Everyone wants me to fight. (Begins stimming with slime) There are many children here. They all fight. I am eventually going to have to fight. I know.

*NOTE: Slime was provided by Medical team for therapeutic use.

KE: (Pause) Who is everyone? JD: (Silence) KE: Did someone make you fight, before? Is that why you were injured? JD: (Silence) KE: I am sorry if they did. That is not fair. You are not an adult yet, and even adults should not have to fight unless they enlist purposefully. You are a child. JD: No one thinks I am a child. KE: Who said that? JD: (Silence) KE: Did someone hurt you? JD: (Pause) I do not want to talk. KE: Alright. Can you tell me why you do not want to talk? JD: (Silence) KE: Would you like to fight? JD: I am good at fighting. KE: That is not what I asked. JD: There is no choice? When there are bad things and bad people, someone has to fight. I am strong—when I am not injured, I am strong. I fight. There are people who are not strong, and cannot fight. I can fight. I fight. KE: (Silence) JD: This is why you are healing me. KE: (Pause) No, little one. That is not why. JD: (Pause) Oh. (Puts down slime) Am I…am I going to be data again? Are you going to test my body? KE: (Puts face into hands)

[PAGE 1 OF 4]

[Interview is to be reviewed by Black Canary and Dr. Pranathi Russo MD, Pediatric Psychologist.]

*

“It’s bad!” Clark says with a watery smile, because Clark isn’t Superman at the moment—in Bruce’s home office, as private as a place as the world can get, Bruce is only Bruce, and Clark is only Clark.

When Black Canary had suggested that their debrief happen somewhere private where Clark felt safe, Bruce had known that there would be bad news. Still, he pours a mug of coffee that Clark will metabolize all the caffeine out of anyway, and pours a long, thick cup of the stuff for himself, and settles back into his warm leather chair.

“Tell me,” Bruce says, not quite Batman, but not quite Bruce either.

“Bruce, he ‘knows’ we’re going to make him fight. He thinks we’re healing him to be a child soldier.” Clark’s laugh is half joke and half derision. Bruce thinks that he understands. “He thinks we’re keeping him here as—like property, where if we pick up something dumped on the side of the road, we can fix it back up and put it to work. Like an engine, or, or…or like a lawnmower. It’s awful.”

Bruce skips the creamer and goes straight to the Baileys beneath his desk for garnishing.

On the one hand, Dick has been flying out in Gotham since he was a preteen. There had been no question about training him; training was the way one kept their children safe, the same way that Alfred had taught Bruce how to shoot as a child—no matter how much Bruce had loathed it at the time.

On the other hand, Jason’s death plays out in his nightmares in technicolor around…once every few months.

The fires. The flames.

(The alien boy found in a wrecked vehicle outside the Kent farmhouse, curled up in fear.)

Bruce thinks about Damian, and how long it had taken for Damian to understand he could be loved as a child who loved animals, and not a future prince of Gotham.

…Bruce passes the Baileys to Clark.

The Kryptonian won’t absorb any of the alcohol in any meaningful way, but he dumps the remainder of the bottle into his coffee nevertheless.

[mxfortunecookie]

Workin on an au …sorta

…it’s off and on progress

though recently I’ve been thinking of a lot of dialog for it

(that’ll come later… [if i continue this as planned]

June got me feelin a bit silly goofy honestly, the posts this month have been a lot less fruity then usual XD

Idk, just found it ironic

I ain’t breakin up the drawings this time, but here’s the versions without lighting shit

I like the second drawing a lot more then the first, was more fun to work on

Sometimes I forget foreshortening can be interesting to work with, and not just annoying to deal with

Bonus doodles

I haven’t completely figured out Cross’s fit for this au, but it doesn’t matter much at the moment anyhow, since he’s still in his old stuff at the moment

Credits-

Cross: Jakei95

Nightmare: Jokublog

[droumack]

the first 1.3k of popstar!jo and bodyguard!nate

(because I'm trying to see if posting part of this will motivate me to finish it)

“It’s a little ridiculous.” And Jo doesn’t think he’s being unfair with that statement. In fact, he thinks he’s being more than fair, when the fact of the matter is—this entire situation was more than a little ridiculous. It was fucking absurd, for one; a massive invasion of privacy, for another. 

And for Jo to call this an invasion of privacy—Jo, whose privacy has been getting invaded since he was a teenager—is saying something. His label has run his life for almost half a decade, now, and Jo thinks if he doesn’t draw the line here, he’ll never draw it again. 

“It’s not ridiculous,” Phil says, “It’s your safety.” 

“The venues have bodyguards,” Jo argues. “The airports have insane security, and so do all the events I go to. Hotels do too, the only time I wouldn’t be technically protected is—”

“Every other moment of your life,” Phil interrupts. “While you’re traveling, when you’re out to dinner, whenever you leave your house. You think I’m trusting you with a bouncer?” He raps his finger hard on the top of the stack of condemning envelopes sitting between them, and continues,

“You think the bouncer at Tenants is going to be equipped to handle this shit? No chance, Jo.” 

‘This shit’ has been the ever-growing stack of letters from his ever-growing fanbase, with a few startling standouts who, yeah, Jo can admit, seem a bit menacing. 

Jo figures that comes with the territory of being an international popstar. It’s what he signed up for when he started singing; he’s not mad that people care enough about him to send him shit ranging from ‘I follow you everywhere’ to ‘when I get my hands on you I’m going to [redacted by Jo’s publicist].’

He doesn’t think any of them are going to act on it. For one, none of them have the means. For another, if they get close enough to Jo to abduct him, then that’ll probably mean they’ve gotten close enough to Jo to figure out he doesn’t have a lot in common with his onstage or on-camera persona. 

All the letters go to his publicist’s office, but they’d only really become an issue when his publicist’s assistant had been reading through them and gotten creeped out enough to run it up the flagpole. 

Hoping for a little bit of support, he turns to the publicist in question.

“Cole.” The man lifts his head from where he’s been click-clacking away at his phone. Jo’s not entirely confident he’s even been listening, but he asks anyway, “Do a lot of your clients have private security?” 

He mulls the question over for a couple of seconds. “For major campaigns,” he says eventually. Then he smiles, placid and a little bitchy, and says, “RDJ’s bodyguard was at his wedding. Maybe you’ll make a new friend.” Then his attention goes back to his phone, picking up his typing like he’d never stopped. 

Jo stares at his publicist for a couple more seconds, wonders why, exactly, he pays almost 10 grand a month for a bratty twenty-something twink who makes fun of him, and then turns his attention back to Phil. 

He sighs heavily. “Obviously you have someone in mind?” He gestures at the folder Phil had yet to open. “Or, a company, or something?” 

Phil rewards him with a smile that seems honestly relieved, and Jo has a moment of feeling a bit guilty. Phil has been like family for years, had been coming up as a manager while Jo’s star had been rising.

Phil had been able to open Danault Management offices in LA and New York because he’d been able to stand on Jo’s shoulders, but in all fairness, it had been Jo standing on Phil’s for the first seven years of this whole ‘shoot for the stars’ endeavor. 

Clearly, he’s been genuinely worried about this, worried about Jo, because Jo’s capitulation looks like it’s tacked five years back onto his life. 

“Of course I do,” Phil says. “Cole’s recommendation, actually.” 

Jo glances at his publicist once more, and Cole looks up, makes a humming little questioning noise before his eyes catch on the folder Phil has in front of him. “Oh, yeah. Good choice.” 

“They’re good?” Jo asks, sliding the folder a little closer to him, glancing at the name on the letterhead: 

MacKinnon Executive Protection.

“The best,” Cole agrees. “We found them doing TIFF a few years ago, convinced them to make the jump to privatized security for some of our guys.” He sits forward in her chair and taps one of the names of the Agents, tells Phil,

“Don’t hire them until they agree to make him the lead.” 

Jo’s eyes flick over the name he’s pointed out. Nathan MacKinnon.

“That’s who I’ve been speaking to,” Phil tells her. “He’s already agreed. It’ll be him and two other guys, but MacKinnon’s taking the bulk of it. Or so he says.” 

Jo’s eyebrows creep up. “You already hired them?” He must fail to keep his betrayal from his voice, but Phil knows that Jo hates it when people make decisions without him. It’s happened too many times, led to too many awkward appearances and shows and interviews and a litany of other things Jo doesn’t care to remember. 

To answer his previous question, it’s precisely why he pays Cole as much as he does, precisely why Phil has been his go to guy over the much bigger firms his label has been pushing on him for years. They listen to him. They collaborate with him.

But not on this, apparently. 

“I haven’t pulled the trigger,” Phil assures him. “But yes, we’ve spoken. I didn’t want to bring this to you until I had all the details.” 

That quells some of the hurt simmering in Jo’s chest. It’s because he’s worried, Jo reminds himself. He’s not tricking Jo into signing a shitty contract like his past label, not lying to him like all his exes. 

“And these are all the details?” he asks, picking up the folder, eyes jumping around the subsections, the no-nonsense, Times New Roman formatting of it all. It’s not like he’d expected a lot of whimsy from a security company, but these guys kind of seem like hardasses just from the way they’ve written out their proposal. 

He guesses this is probably a good field for hardasses. 

“Ex-military,” Phil says. “Canadian.” That makes him grin, like he thinks that might be a selling point for Jo. Reluctant as he is to admit it, it kind of is; Jo likes bringing bits of his home with him on tour. His chef is Canadian, a few of his dancers as well. 

“Nice?” Jo asks. 

Phil and Cole exchange a look, then, and Jo doesn’t miss the way Cole tries to bury a laugh in a cough. 

“Serious,” Phil corrects hesitantly. “But they’re not going to be there to be your friends—”

“I’m going to spend every waking second of my life with these guys,” Jo protests. “I don’t think it makes me a bad person for wanting them to be pleasant to be around.” 

“You’ll like them,” Cole tells him. Jo gives him a wary look, and he lets himself laugh this time, saying, “They’re good people. Good to look at, too.” 

When Jo makes a confused expression, Cole gestures at his face, and then his biceps, and says, “Good to look at.” 

“Not that that matters,” Phil pipes up, just as Jo sighs, “That’s something.” 

Cole grins, sharp, and Phil just rolls his eyes, and asks, “Can we do this? You trust me?” 

Jo’s mouth twists unhappily. That’s been the million dollar question for the last few years of Jo’s life, is who he does and doesn’t trust. At the top of that list is Phil, though, so Jo nods. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I trust you.”

[arctrooper69]

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another" Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 8:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Canon violence. Bad decisions.

--------------------------------------------------

“Okay, let’s go over the plan one more time,” you said quietly.

Omega nodded, pointing at the layout on the screen. “You’ll set off that crate of detonators right here, just inside the front door.”

You nodded. "Yep, and that’ll trigger an alarm which should draw most of the guards towards me - "

“And that’s my cue to sneak down into the cell block to rescue everybody while you grab the staff from the treasure room!” Omega finished emphatically.

“Good!” You grinned, “Remember to keep your communicator on but only use it to contact me if something goes wrong.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

***

Fifteen minutes crept by slowly.

Omega should be at her station about now, you thought.

You wanted to know how she was fairing, but not hearing from her was a good thing. It meant she wasn't in trouble.

Five minutes later, the communicator chirped quietly at your side.

“The guards aren’t leaving!” Omega’s whispered voice sounded tense, “What do I do? I don’t think that diversion worked!”

You peered around the corner into the treasure room. Most of the guards had left.

Only two here. I could take them if I had to.

You could see the staff with it’s glimmering emerald in a case on the back wall.

That was easy.

You lifted the communicator to your lips, trying to remember the readout on the console sitting one floor above.

“There should be a ventilation shaft right above you,” you whispered.

Silence.

“I don’t see one!” Omega whispered back urgently, “And it sounds like there are more guards headed this way!”

Groaning inwardly, you began to wish you hadn’t thought of such a stupid plan. Omega needed you, and you knew that you should get out of there while you still could.

But the staff, a tiny voice whispered in your head, it’s right there. It won’t take long.

You bit your lip. You shouldn’t. A stupid antique wasn’t worth Omega’s life.

Omega’s a smart girl, that voice continued, she’s plenty capable on her own.

It made everything sound so simple. Get the staff, get the boys - that was the plan, wasn’t it?

Hunter will be impressed. He’d like you again.

Guilt churned in your gut as you lifted the communicator again. It chimed just as you opened your mouth, about to tell her that you were on the way.

“Wait, I see it! It’s on the other end of the hall, though, but I think I can make it.”

“Ok,” you responded, “Do it, but be careful!”

“I will!”

Sucking your lower lip in conflicted thought, you made up your mind. “It shouldn’t take me much longer. I’ll grab the staff and meet you by the cell block.”

“Got it.”

You chewed on your lip again, that guilty dread hadn’t abated. If anything, it had gotten worse. Something was going to go wrong - you could feel it. Something wasn’t right.

You looked back up at the staff.

That’s just the anxiety talking, you tried to convince yourself, everything is still going as planned. Just get the damned thing and go help Omega.

You took a deep breath, feeling the anxiety fade away as you slipped into the room.

I got this.

The crates and boxes stacked haphazardly in the dim lighting made it easy to manouver unseen through the treasure room.

“Crazy about those thermal detonators, right!?”

You froze.

“Yeah man,” came the response, and you could’ve collapsed in relief. You’d almost forgotten about the guards that stood just outside the door.

“Think they were just old?” the guard continued, obviously trying to initiate some kind of conversation with his partner.

“I dunno. Maybe.”

They fell silent again for several seconds.

“Ya know, when we grabbed them from that ship it was kinda cool.”

“Yup.”

“Just uhh…you know. You and me.”

“Uh huh.”

“They never pair us together…”

The second guard sighed, “First time for everything.”

“It was fun though,” the one continued before hesistating, “just sayin’, I think we make a pretty good team.”

His partner shifted uncomfortably, “Look man… I’m just trying to do my job here.”

“Yeah, man. Bro. Sorry….”

They shifted into an uncomfortable silence, unaware that you’d snuck past them quite easily as you quickly moved closer to the glass case that held the staff.

The communicator chirped once again and you froze, hoping that the guards were too distacted to notice. You winced at the noise as Omega began to speak quietly through your earpiece.

“Ok, I see them! They’re in a cell together, but there are four guards in here now and the ventilation shaft ends too far away!” She sounded desperate.

“Hey, did you hear that!?” The first guard stood up straight, glancing around.

“Hear what?” His partner sounded exasperated.

“Uhh… nevermind. I thought I heard something.” He paused, “By the way, what do you think about our new armor?”

“Dude, shut up.”

“Right. Yeah. Got a job to do.”

Ducking out of sight, you pressed the communicator up to your lips.

“Get ready,” you hissed, “wait for my signal.”

“Affirmative.”

You assessed the case and the situation in the room. Once the glass was broken, an alarm would probably go off, sending people to your location. That should take care of Omega’s problem.

Then you could take the staff and get back to her quickly.

Peering around the corner once again, you took a deep breath and steadied your heart.

It’s now or never.

Taking a breath, you rammed your elbow into the glass case, and grabbed the staff. The resulting alarm sounded loudly over the compound, buzzing through your eardrums in a painfully electrifying screech.

Both guards spun around.

“What the - !?” You clocked him in the temple with the staff before he could finish and he collapsed onto the floor. The first guard blinked, staring frozen with his mouth slightly ajar.

“If it’s any consolation, I think he likes you back!” you grinned at the man as he slowly moved to press his communicator, still staring back and forth between you and his fallen friend. Flipping the staff around you smacked the device from his hand, giving him a shrug. “Though, I don’t seem to be the best judge of that sort of thing.”

“Wha…?” The butt of the staff slammed against his head before he even had time to contemplate your words and he collapsed unconscious, joining his friend on the floor.

A clang from the floor below told you that Omega had jumped out from the ventilation shaft and the ever nearing pounding of footsteps told you that it was time to go.

Dashing down the stairs, you slid around the corner and slammed the staff into another guard. He spun around, blaster firing wildly as you kicked him in the chest before pulling your own blaster on him, sending him flying into the wall with a smoking hole in his chest.

That beautifully cocky and euphoric feeling of adrenaline coursed through your veins as you ran down the hall where the purple flash of Omega’s bow danced along the walls.

A loud clatter accompanied the pause of energy bolts.

“Hunter!” She screamed, “Help!”

You dashed around the corner. One guard held Omega tightly in his grip while the other one slid her bow away with the butt of an electrostaff.

“Let me go!” She struggled and kicked at him but it seemed to have no effect on the large, armored guard.

“Omega, no!” shouted Hunter as he slammed himself into the bars that held him, only to be forced further back into the cell as the guard hit him in the chest with the electrostaff, sending blue arcs of electricity through his body before Wrecker caught him.

Oh no you don’t.

Rage bubbled through your chest as you burst from the corner. “Hey assholes!”

The first blaster bolt slammed through the chest of the staff wielding guard and the second hit the control panel that released the rest of your team.

Omega cried out as the first guard tossed her into the wall before pulling his own blaster.

“Wrecker get Omega!” Hunter shouted. Fire blazed in his eyes as he pulled his knife from the offending guard’s throat. “Echo, find us a way out of here. Tech, find out where they’ve got our gear!”

Omega stood, rubbing her elbow as she pulled herself to her feet and retrieved her bow. “Your gear’s in the next room over!” She shouted. Hunter gave a firm nod and motioned for Tech and Wrecker to retrieve it.

You grit your teeth as footsteps sounded down the hall. This was NOT how things were supposed to go.

“Hunter,” you shouted impatiently, “I got Cid’s staff but we gotta go!”

He regarded you coolly, lips pulled into a tight line, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as if debating whether or not to respond. The choice was made for him as Wrecker and Tech rushed back with the gear. He turned away sharply and your face fell.

I kriffed up.

Regret tinged with disappointment sank like a stone in your stomach as you clenched your teeth, anger willing away the tears that pricked your eyes, and the growing lump in your throat.

“Hunter, I’ve got a clear route out but we need to move now!” Echo spoke.

“Good. Let’s get out of here.” He all but ripped the staff from your hand as he strode past. “I’ll hold onto this.”

--------------------------------------------------

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[darksigns-exe]

you help me lose my mind - jolly x reader x nick

Pairing: Jolly Karlsson x f!reader x Nicholas Ruffilo Warning: Swearing, consumption of alcohol, protected intercourse, fingering, oral sex (f recieving), hand jobs, a teeny tiny bit of angst Word Count: 4.1k Masterlist | PART 2 | Taglist Sign up

Your head doesn’t swim nearly enough for a place like this. Bodies are stacked against bodies, grinding against each other as the bass pounds through the air. You force your way through the crowd, pushing past the sweaty masses until the bar finally comes into view. The friends you came here with are long gone. You’ll reconvene in the morning, it always goes this way. 

A rush of cool air blows into your face when you finally break through the crowd. You draw in a deep breath. The heat between the bodies is almost too much, and a part of you wants to dip out early. You shake the thought from your mind, though. You’re here to have a good time, and you’re not going to let a little bit of a bad mood get in the way of that. 

You’re still not entirely sure how exactly your friend managed to get you into this industry party, or what kind of industry party it even is. But you’re here now, surrounded by good-looking people, and you only feel a little out of place. 

The bar finally comes into sight, and really you can’t wait to down another drink. Perhaps not the healthiest way to cope with the anxious tingle in the back of your mind, but it’s the best you can do right now. You weave through the far less dense crowd until you find a free stool. As much as you like the look of these shoes, they are absolute hell after a while. A little break will be nice. 

You order another drink. Something sharp that’ll make your throat burn in just the right way. And that’s when you spot them. 

They’re awfully close, one just a little bit taller than the other, but not less intense. One of them has his hair pulled back in a low bun, while the others hangs down to his chest. You’re immediately caught staring. The taller one leans down, brushing his fingers against the other's cheek while he whispers something in his ear. You fight against the instinct to look away from them and instead fix the one with the bun with the same intensity he awards you with. 

He smiles just a little bit, the corner of his lip quirking up just enough for you to see from across the bar. The taller one presses a kiss to the other's cheek before he removes himself. You lose track of him rather quickly and return your attention to the man that is still fixing you with that curious glare. 

“Is this one free?” 

You turn to see who the new arrival is, and find yourself faced with the counterpart of the man still staring at you. 

You nod, and he slides in the empty spot next to you. A waft of a deep woodsy scent floods through your senses. His tall stature and the dark eyes that suddenly feel a lot warmer lure you in, perhaps a little too easily. 

You patiently wait for his next move. Surely, he’s come here with some kind of plan. 

He asks for your name, which you give in exchange for his. 

Joakim. 

He’s very effective in figuring out what you’re here with friends and not attached to anyone without it sounding creepy. You’re not sure if it’s the drinks you’ve had or the way he looks at you, but your head already swims with that dizzy feeling. 

“I’ll be very honest with you, darling. Nick and I like to invite a third party sometimes. We liked how you look, and I think the three of us could have a lot of fun.” Between the earnest tone of his voice and the gentle warmth in the way he looks at you, you feel as if you could easily back out of this if you wanted. 

If you wanted. 

“You can say no, and I’ll go back over there, and you won’t see us again.” He continues, “And even if you say yes, you’re free to back out at any time. No hard feelings.”

You mull over it for a moment. 

“Nick’s your —?”

“Boyfriend.” 

“Is this something you do often?”

He shakes his head, “Finding the right person isn’t as easy as you’d think. But I promise you that we’ll take good care of you.”

“Where would we go?”

“We’re staying in the hotel down the street. But if you’d rather do this at your own place, that’s an option too. But I can understand that inviting two practical strangers into your home is not ideal either.”

“That nice hotel with the plant walls?”

He nods, “That’s the one.”

That really piques your interest. They’re both well-dressed, and you know that this particular hotel is fairly pricey. They are incredibly intriguing, and you simply can’t bring yourself to say no. 

“How about you introduce me to your boyfriend, then?” you say, before throwing back the rest of your drink. 

An almost wicked smile works his way onto his lips then. 

You slide off your chair and following through the few stray people towards the other side. For now, you don’t feel very nervous about the whole thing. You’re sure that the nerves will make themselves known before long. 

You’re formally introduced to Nick. From up close, he looks even prettier, and you can’t help but feel a little bit jealous of either of them, really. 

You talk for a moment longer, just to break the ice. You learn that they’re in a band and just here for a couple of days. A real shame, you find yourself thinking. 

Their room is gorgeous. They’re quite high up and their view over the city is fantastic. You’ve lived here for a few years, but you’ve never had the chance to see your home like this. You’re so focused on the new that you don’t notice Jolly coming to stand behind you. 

His fingers brush across your bare shoulder, tearing you out of your trance. 

“It’s a lovely view, isn’t it?” he asks quietly. 

Before you can answer, though, Nick speaks up, “Best we’ve had so far, I’d say.” 

You look over your shoulder to find him sat comfortably in one of the armchairs, watching the both of you intently. 

Jolly leans in close, lips grazing against your neck. His breath fans across your skin, making the delicate little hairs stand straight up. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You can say no at any point. You’re the guest, so we’re playing by your rules. Is there anything that’s entirely off the table for you?”

You list off a few things, all of which he acknowledges and assures you will not be brought up tonight. You go over a few more safety things, before you finally feel his hands drifting lower on your body. His hands fit perfectly against your waist, pulling you back against his chest. 

“How about we give Nick an even better view?” He whispers, lips mere millimetres away from your skin. 

A like of kisses is pressed along the length of your neck and shoulder. His hand brushes the thin strap of your dress down your shoulder. 

You feel awfully exposed, despite the fact that you’re still entirely dressed. Nick’s piercing gaze seems to bore right through your defences. He watches intently as Jolly touches you, runs his hands along the sides of your body. 

“Can I take off your dress?” He asks, lips barely lifting from your skin. 

You nod, but Nick quickly shoots a pointed look your way, “Words.”

The way he says it sends a shiver down your spine. 

“I’ll ask you again, can I take this off?” Jolly’s finger tugs at the thin strap. 

“Yes. Please.” You catch yourself sounding a lot needier than you had hoped. 

“Pretty and polite.” Nick replies, “Go ahead, honey.”

One hand leaves your side and wanders to find the zip of your dress. 

You hold your breath as he drags it down. He’s so very gentle when he removes the garment from your body, taking care not to nick or pinch your skin. The fabric falls from your body. Jolly helps you step out of the garment, before he picks it up and places it on top of another armchair. When you had felt exposed today, you now feel like the main attraction at an exhibition. Their attention is entirely on you, and while Nick isn’t touching you, you can feel his eyes drift across every inch of your body. 

“Sit on the edge of the bed for us, darling.” Jolly says just loud enough for you to hear. 

You do as he asks, curious as to what exactly they have planned for you. You wonder if Nick is going to get involved, or if his enjoyment in this comes from watching his partner take someone else apart. 

The two exchange a few whispered words that don’t reach your ears. Their exchange feels incredibly intimate. You catch a glimpse of Nick’s hand resting against Jolly’s waist. They kiss before Jolly returns to you, and you briefly wonder what they would look like together. 

Jolly comes to stand in front of you. He towers above you, somehow even more impressive. 

His hand comes to rest against your cheek. 

You let him tilt your head upwards.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks softly, eyes flickering across your face, seemingly searching for a trace of hesitance. 

“Please.” you gasp, suddenly feeling so very breathless. 

It feels like hours pass until his lips finally meet yours. You let your eyes fall shut and allow yourself to sink into the feeling. Your lips part for him before he has the chance to ask. His hand leaves your cheek to curl into your hair, pulling you impossibly closer to him. Your own hands find his waist, as you try to ground yourself. He urges you backwards, coming to hover above you. 

He trails kisses along the length of your neck and down the centre of your chest. Hands cover your breasts, as he descends further. Jolly sinks to his knees in front of you, and only when he is fully settled do his lips disappear from your skin. He undoes the small buckles of your shoes, placing barely there kisses against the insides of your ankles once he has removed each shoe. 

“Lift your ass up for me.” 

Once again, you wordlessly follow his order. 

Your panties are swiftly removed from your body and tossed to the side. When you check out of curiosity, you see Nick pick them off the ground before he returns to his previous spot in the armchair. Your attention is torn from him, when you feel the scrape of teeth against the inside of your thigh.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl.” Jolly seals the words with a kiss to your other thigh, “You can lie back if that’s more comfortable for you. If you need a break, squeeze my hand twice.”

Another kiss is placed against your skin, higher this time. He urges your thighs further apart, before he dives into you. A first gentle lick draws against your folds and your hand curls around his. It’s dizzying. Sure, you’ve had someone between your thighs like this before, but Jolly seems to know exactly how to work you already. 

His lips curl around your clit, sucking just harshly enough to make you gasp out loud. You don’t miss the low chuckle that sounds from the other end of the room. From there he drifts lower still, licks against your hole, tongue briefly dipping into your wetness. 

“Does she taste as good as she smells?” You hear Nick ask then. 

Jolly stays buried between your thighs for a brief moment longer, before he drags himself away from you, “She’s perfect. Aren’t you, darling?” He squeezes your hand gently. 

“Might have to get a taste of my own next time.” 

Next time. 

The thought is quickly pulled from your head when you feel the first brush of a finger against your folds. You let yourself fall backwards against the bed, when he eases the digit into you. 

“There you go.” His praise sears right through you, “You’re doing so well.”

You sigh when his finger sinks fully into you. He only has one finger inside, but you already feel so full of him. His finger curls against your walls, making you cry out in pleasure. He takes his time, slowly easing another finger into you. The thick digits stretch you open so deliciously. By now, you struggle to stay still in any kind of capacity. Your whines and moans fills the room, and you can feel yourself barrelling towards the inevitable end.  

“You feel so good around my fingers.” Jolly speaks with a groan, “Bet you’ll feel even better around my cock.” 

His fingers curl and spread inside you. That coil in your belly is growing more and more taut with every thrust into you. And then his thumb presses against your clit, making your hips buck up against him. Your hand grips his just a little tighter, and for a moment his movements slow as he seemingly tries to gauge if you need a break. When the second squeeze doesn’t come, he doubles down on his efforts. His movements speed up significantly. Your free hand wraps around the top sheet, trying to find some kind of purchase as you feel yourself falling apart. 

You think that you feel his lips, his tongue against your clit again, but with how overwhelming the pleasure is, you can barely tell where up and down are. Your climax ebbs over you like a wave, slowly taking you apart tendon by tendon. He doesn’t falter, keeps the strokes of his fingers at a steady speed that has you whining and moaning with overwhelm. 

You cry out his name as you come undone. 

You’re sure that you’re bordering on incoherent. The only thing that matters at that moment is how good you feel, how good he makes you feel. The hand, you had previously wrought into the sheet, wraps around his wrist. The feeling goes from just right to too much within seconds, and you try to wriggle away from him. 

“Too much?” 

You nod desperately, trying to articulate what you wanted. 

When you finally find the energy to turn your head, you find Nick with his shirt mostly undone, hand pressed against his crotch. He notices you looking at him and nods towards you, silently telling you to return your focus to the man between your thighs. 

At some point, he had taken his shirt off, exposing his toned chest and stomach. You just catch him cleaning off his fingers on the top sheet. There’s a faint little smile on his face that makes your chest thump with a feeling you aren’t quite ready to deal with yet. 

“Good to go on or do you need a break?” Jolly asks, as he sets himself upright again. 

“Just a moment.” you reply, admittedly a little breathless. 

He leans over you, to brush the hair sticking to your forehead away. His fingers trail across the side of your face, along your jaw, before he pulls away as if he’d been burned. 

“I’ll get you a bottle of water.” he says quickly. 

You remain lying down for a moment longer. You can hear Jolly rummaging through the minibar somewhere behind you. To your side, Nick eyes you curiously. 

“He’s good, isn’t he? I know it can be a lot.” 

You nod, not quite trusting your voice. 

“I’m still here, you know.” Jolly cuts in. 

He brushes his fingers through Nicks hair. The gesture is so tender that you feel a little like an intruder. You watch as Jolly presses a kiss to the other man's temple, before he tears himself away from him. 

You take a good few sips of water, before handing the bottle back to Jolly. 

“How are you feeling, darling?”

“Good.” You nod, now feeling a little more settled again. 

“Do you want to keep going?” 

You hadn’t realised it until just now, but the repeated check-ins made you feel incredibly safe. 

“Please.” 

Your whiny tone draws laughter from both men. 

“They never say no, honey.” 

You chose to ignore the pang of jealousy and instead reach out for him. Your hands find his waist again, carefully luring him back to you. 

You’re sure that you’ll never get sick of the way he kisses you, the way his hand feels so large against your cheek. 

He urges you back just a little bit before he undoes his belt and trousers. You watch in awe as he strips from his clothes. And now you understand why he’s taken so much time and care to prepare you. 

He’s rock hard, leaking at the reddened tip. Jolly works his hand across his length, groaning when his palm brushes across the sensitive head. 

You watch as he picks up a little foil package from the night stand. A part of you is glad that you don’t have to ask him for it. In previous encounters, you’d always been the one arguing for more protection, just to be disappointed by the reluctance of your partner. 

Jolly places one knee on the bed in front of you. 

“Ready, sweet girl?” He asks. 

His hand is warm against the inside of your thigh, keeping you spread wide for him. 

“Ready.”

Jolly guides the head of his cock towards your folds. He drags his tip through your wetness, before he brings it to your entrance. Despite knowing better, you hold your breath when he pushes into you. The stretch is almost overwhelming, even with his preparation. 

One of his hands grips into your waist, while the other slowly guides his length into you. He pauses once he’s fully settled inside of you. His chest heaves with laboured breaths. 

Your legs automatically wrap around his waist. 

You force yourself to look at his face, only to find Jolly already gazing down at you. There’s a softness on his face that makes your breath catch in your throat. His now freed hand comes to brace himself against the mattress, allowing him to lean down to kiss you again. While he has your attention like this, he begins a slow but steady rhythm. 

It’s dizzying. 

You feel so very full of him, but at the same time it’s never enough. His pace slowly increases. Your body shakes with every thrust into you. Jolly somehow manages to hit all the right spots. His hand comes to grope at your breast. At the same time, his lips descend along your neck once more. You feel him pause at the junction of your shoulder and neck. The sting of him sucking a mark into your skin, does little to distract you from the way his cock feels inside of you. 

He groans against your skin. Your own whines and moans fill your ears. And between the obscene slapping of skin against skin and the sounds the both of you make, you almost miss the rustling behind you. And it isn’t until the bed dips down behind you that you become curious about what is happening behind you. But Jolly, shifts your thighs around his waist, changing the angle just enough to tear your mind from it again. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. You feel so fucking good.” he gasps, “Gonna ruin me.”

His teeth scrape against your skin, drawing a wanton moan from you. Your hands shift to his back, nails digging into his back as he continues to piston himself into you. 

His rhythm falters suddenly. When you follow his eyeline, you find Nick perched on the bed behind you. His hand is still pressing against the fabric of his trousers, not quite touching himself, but also not unaffected by what you’re doing. 

“Got curious, my love?” Jolly asks, sounding rather breathless already.

The low murmur of Nick’s voice flies right over your head, but can’t bring yourself to care much. A different set of fingers brushes against the side of your face, and you stretch your neck further to catch just a glimpse of Nick. 

You reach out for him, just managing to reach his thigh. He seems to understand what you want and scoots a little closer to the pair of you. Nick shifts your hand towards his crotch, allowing you to touch him properly. 

He sighs when you press against him, “Just looked so good together.” 

Nick helps you work your hand into his trousers. The angle isn’t ideal, and you struggle to find a good angle to move your hand along his length with the way you’re positioned. Even then, you think that he’s quite sizable. Your unsteady rhythm seems to be enough for him, though, as you hear a beautifully drawn out mess of gasps and moans from him. 

You feel yourself staggering closer and closer to your second climax of the night. It’s all so intense. You're constantly torn between them. The pleasure painted across either of their faces makes you even dizzier. 

“Getting close again, aren’t you?” Jolly asks, sounding as if he’s not far behind you. 

You nod, moaning out a yes when he hits a particularly good spot inside you. 

That seems to be enough to make him amp up his efforts even more. And a few harsh thrusts later, you feel the coil in your belly snap. You feel yourself cry out when it hits you, body growing tense with the overwhelming sensation that washes through you. Jolly finishes shortly after you, spilling into the condom. You’re still holding onto him, nails still digging into the skin of his back. 

You feel Nick scooting closer to you, until he kneels at your side. With the better angle, it only takes a few more strokes until he spills his release across the skin of your belly. They kiss as he finishes, and you can’t tear your eyes away from them. 

The aftermath is a blur. One of them wipes the residue of Nick’s release from your skin, before you’re cradled into someone’s arms. You find yourself settled between both of them. With Jolly’s arm wrapped around your middle, you feel incredibly safe and comforted.

Nick eyes you with an odd softness, and you feel as if there is something he wants to say. 

“We’ll talk in the morning.” is the last thing you hear from him before you drift off. 

You wake to an empty bed and for a brief moment you fear that they have left you just like that. Not that you would blame them. You hadn’t come here expecting more than a one-night stand. When you sit up, though, you find their clothes still placed on the armchairs. It’s not long before Jolly emerges from what you assume to be the bathroom. His chest is still bare, and his sweatpants hanging low on his hips. 

“Good morning, sleepy head.” he says with a soft smile, “Nick’s getting coffee. Do you want something?” 

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” you reply quickly, already surveying the room for your clothes. 

“I asked, because we’d like to have you here for a bit longer.” he sits at the foot of the bed, “If you want to go, that’s a different story. But you absolutely do not have to leave.”

Instead of arguing further, you tell him your go-to order. You watch as he relays your order to Nick.

While you wait for him to return, you step under the shower. Jolly hands you a shirt to wear so that you don’t have to squeeze back into your dress just yet. 

Nick returns a good twenty minutes later, arms loaded with three to-go cups and a bag of what you hope to be pastries. Seeing him looking much more comfortable in a hoodie and jeans makes you wish that you could see him like this all the time. 

You talk over breakfast and come to the conclusion that you all enjoyed this night too much for it to just be a one time thing. Numbers are exchanged and promises are made to call when you have the chance. You end up staying for a while longer, luxuriating in their presence while they pack their bags. 

The goodbye feels harder than it should have, seeing as you’ve only met them last night. Jolly hugs you tightly, pressing a soft little kiss to the corner of your lips. Nick’s embrace is just as tight, and you feel a pang of regret that you didn’t get to feel more of him. He kisses your cheek, sending a pleasant warmth through you. As you part, he promises that this won’t be the last time you see them, and that makes you feel a little bit better about leaving. 

You’re barely out of the hotel when your phone pings with a notification from Nick.

We’ll be out here again in a few weeks. Can’t wait to see you again. 

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[thesharktanksdriver]

Dicentra D. Boa

Content warning going in: implied rape, human trafficking, slavery, implied sexual assault, implied Sa of children, and massacres. It’s not talked in length or in detail but it is alluded to due to the Boa sisters backstory and Dicentra’s conception. I wanted to be sure to give a warning just in case because of the nature of these topics. If any of these themes are triggering please skip past the section labeled “Josephine” and go to “childhood” instead

Also sorry if she’s cringe or Mary sue but she’s my little blorbo and I love her. Writing her is also my excuse to write (and rewrite) about Boa Hancock because I think she’s underrated and I think her character could’ve been handled better by oda (this is in regards to her liking Luffy which is really weird since she’s a grown adult who fell in love with a 17 year old after being victimized through a decent portion of her life by adults)

General information

Name: Dicentra D. Boa.

Following after the flower naming convention of the Amazon lily, Dicentra is the scientific name of the bleeding heart flower. Her name was chosen by Hancock since dicentra’s birth mother didn’t know what to choose

The D. Is gained to her by her birth mother Josephine D. Etheus. Though Dicentra is apart of “the will of D” she has no idea about it due to the fact Boa swore to Josephine that no traces from her would connect back to Dicentra.

Age: 13

Dicentra was born a few hours before the mass breakout of Mary geoise when Hancock was 16.

Race: half-lunarian

Dicentra’s motherJosephine was a full lunarian captured in the massacre of her people. Despite Saturns extermination efforts a few celestial dragons wanted a lunarian as apart of their collection and were able to accomplish this secretly

Being only half lunarain attributes to her white hair and darker toned skin. But along with this it also acts as a reason as to why her wings are so small and why she doesn’t have an eternal spark.

She can’t create fire because of this, but she could control already lit flames if she needed to. But she has not found this out yet

(Fun fact is that whenever in a room with some type of fire, she subconsciously pulls that flame slightly towards herself. Kinda like how sunflowers face the sun, flames direct themselves towards her)

Personality: curious, sometimes oblivious, good hearted, optimistic, overly eager and a bit chaotic

As a young sheltered girl Dicentra is naturally curious of the world and just about anything she can get her hands on. She enjoys soaking in all of the knowledge of the great world beyond the Amazon lily, whilst also secretly yearning to see it for herself.

Another side effect of her sheltered upbringing is the fact she’s very oblivious to things. Whether that be wandering into a bad situation due to curiosity of something that caught her eye or just being unaware of concepts like men not being hideous monsters that’ll kill her (Hancock taught her this lol). Despite her being oblivious to these environmental concerns she’s actually very observant of others emotions when needed.

Unlike her mother’s cold and dominating facade Dicentra is very openly warm to those around her. She often times is found conversing with others around her, joyfully asking about things and recounting new stuff she discovered.

Along with this she can be very eager about whatever catches her eye. Leading her to blindly and stubbornly pursue it even at her own detriment (much to her mother’s and Nightshade concern). This has lead to her acting without foresight and acting on the first thing that entered her mind which can have varied results…like biting someone’s hand

Interests and hobbies: journaling, exploration, drawing, dance and song

Once more due to her interest in the world beyond the Amazon lily Dicentra has taken to journaling all she’s learned. When her mother brings her gifts from far off places she enjoys documenting everything she can about it. Of all subjects she loves writing about the most she enjoys exotic Fish, birds and gemstones the most.

Due to her journaling she ends up exploring places quite a bit. From the city of her home to the jungles and mountains she’ll explore. Some of it from blind interest and from plain eager stubbornness

Something gained from her journaling is her hobby of drawing. Though years of practice she’s gotten decent at drawing, though it’s less out of passion and moreso just for proper documentation.

Her real hobbies are that of song and dance. As a princess Dicentra had taken up many hobbies but the two that stuck with her are dancing and song. She enjoys dancing since it’s an active activity and picking up new instruments to learn and play.

She’s particularly fond of the Erhu (I’m taking in some Chinese inspiration due to the Chinese influence of the Amazon lily)

Habits and quirks: Manners, stiff posture, back issues, lack of shoes, playing with her hands, love of berries/fruits and tendency to put others before her

Dicentra as princess (though that title is moreso just a title since the Amazon lily leadership is based on strength rather than bloodline) she was educated to have proper manners. While she’s a tough and tumble kind of girl she still implores these manners in most social situations until she finds something interesting and throws manners to the wind.

Due to these manners she can sometimes also have a stiff posture in mix with her back pains. Hiding her wings is a hassle for her so binding them along with keeping a certain posture as to be sure their hidden is important. When around those she trusts she lets up a bit and is more relaxed but that’s if they know of her wings. If not she keeps up the posture to be sure they won’t be found

As stated above she gets quite a lot of back pain and jolts of discomfort due to her hiding her wings. It’s an unfortunate thing she has to deal with, something all the boa sisters feels guilty about but know it’s for Dicentra’s best interest in the end.

Despite being taught manners Dicentra can’t stand wearing closed toe shoes. She doesn’t mind sandals but she loves being barefoot much to her mother’s ire. Dicentra loves the feeling of grass and sand beneath her feet.

A nervous quirk she has is that she plays with her hands quite a bit.

Also is a giant sweet tooth for things but especially loves Berries, Fruits and her favourite food of peach buns with a custard filling. It’s definitely due to the D trait.

Another tendency she has is for her to value others above herself. As princess though it’s more of a title she believes that her mom and the Amazon lily comes first. She’ll put down or put away her own feelings and ambitions if it means she can’t help others. It’s the reason as to why she stayed in the Amazon instead of exploring like she wanted, why she asks questions about the outside world and sees glimpses of it through stories and objects instead of pursing it herself.

Relationships: Hancock, Marigold, Sandersonia, Nightshade, Rayleigh and Shakuyaku, Gloriosa, Salome and Ouroboros

Hancock: Dicentra has a very strong relationship with her mom and looks up to her as her hero (for various reasons). She loves her mom deeply for both her kindness and dedication to protecting the Amazon lily. She knows deep down her mom is a lot more tender than she lets on but puts up a front to protect everyone else (and herself). Even though dicentra wishes to explore the world she follows her mom’s rules of staying in the Amazon Lily knowing there has to be some reason as to why her mom is so insistent on it. Along with this she follows her mom’s rules of hiding her back and binding her wings even if it’s uncomfortable (something Boa wishes she didn’t have to make Dicentra do but does it out of necessity). Her favourite activity with her mom is having her mom brush her hair

Marigold: Dicentra loves her aunt Marigold but is sometimes a little bit intimidated by her. Granted she knows her aunt would never do anything bad but Marigold is sometimes too stoic for Dicentra to read which makes her nervous she’s doing something wrong. Unbeknownst to her Marigold very much loves her but gets worried of messing up and internally panics because she overestimated herself. Dicentra’s favourite memory with Marigold is when she taught her how to make flower crowns

Sandersonia: Dicentra loves hanging out with her Aunt Sandersonia. Unlike with Marigold Sandersonia is more in tune with her emotions so Dicentra is able to read her better and therefore know if she’s bothering her. If Sandersonia isn’t busy with something she’ll often tag along with Dicentra’s exploring of the Amazon lily and play games together. Dicentra’s favorite thing to do with Sandersonia is petting her aunts zoan tail

Nightshade (another oc): Nightshade is Dicentra’s sworn guard and protector assigned by Hancock herself. Dicentra sees Nighshade as her closest companion and as a big sister to her. Though Nightshade sometimes gets frustrated at Dicentra throwing caution to the wind and running off she knows that Nightshade doesn’t typically get legitimately mad unless something really bad happened. Nightshade beside the Boa sisters is the only one who knows of Dicentra’s wings and origins, something the bodyguard takes in the upmost seriousness. Dicentra knows Nightshade isn’t her original name but hasn’t pushed about the subject. Her favourite thing to do with Nightshade is playing hide and seek.

Rayleigh and Shakuyaku: dicentra knows very little about these two but does hold them in high regard hearing they helped her mom and aunts. The most funny thing about this though is that she has no idea Rayleigh is a male (boa taught her men were ugly evil creatures lol) . She’s never met them but she hopes to one day do so.

Gloriosa: dicentra sometimes sneaks out to see the former empress of the Amazon despite being a “traitor” to learn more about the outside world. Though she doesn’t like how her mom and Gloriosa don’t get along well Dicentra holds respect for Gloriosa.

Salome and Ouroboros: Dicentra adores Salome and all the snakes of the Amazon. Her fight or flight instinct of bite first ask questions later was somewhat developed due to watching Salome when she was younger. Dicentra has a snake of the same species as Salome named Ouroboros, aptly named for its penchant for…eating its tail all the time. No one has any idea why boros does this but Dicentra loves her beloved snake even if all it does is act as a necklace for her half the time. Half the time people don’t notice they’re alive if not for their occasional blinking. She loves petting the scales of Salome and Ouroboros, absolutely loves the texture

(Meme break before getting to serious stuff. Nightshade is also included here)

Backstory

Prologue: Josephine

Dicentra’s birth mother Josephine was a lunarian born on the red line and raised with her people. She lived atop the red line in peace for many years, she was particularly gifted in being a graceful flyer amongst others her age but lacked control of her flames. Despite the peace at a young age she could tell something was coming somehow, she had a sixth sense for that thing (observation Haki). Eventually when her people were massacred to build Mary Geoise atop her ancestral home she was taken by a celestial dragon who wanted one of her kind as “apart of his collection” even though that wasn’t technically allowed. This all happened when she was 15.

For Years Josephine was kept in a cell, wings broken and unable to conjure flames even if she tried due to being underfed and weak. She’d spent so long being toyed with and abused with no relief but an empty cell to return to when she was finished being “useful”. Eventually though she got cellmate in the form of the young Boa sisters. For the first time in years Josephine felt something as she stared at the young girls, mirror showing her how much of a shell of her former self she was. She used to be young and free, used to be afraid and now she had felt nothing in years. And staring into the fearful tear stained eyes of these girls she swore to herself they wouldn’t end up like her. Broken and empty.

In that cell in the span of months turned to years Josephine would do her best to protect the sisters. Though she could not always protect them she was able to lessen their suffering. She cared for them, began to see them as her own just as they began to see her as a mother in this hell. Through her wings were broken she’d use them as blankets for them in the damp cold of the cell. Josephine would share the little food she had with them. She’d also tell them stories of her people who once proudly flew the skies, sang in hushed tones the songs passed on from generation to generation. Hell had at least become bareable

Eventually much to her own fear and horror Josephine became pregnant. It at some point was bound to happen but all the same it horrified her for the fact she knew her child would be killed. A bastard to celestial dragon was purged for the fact of “tainting” their holy blood, and that was just for normal cases. She was a lunarian, the people they purged and were still actively being hunting down from how that devil gloated about “owning such a rare species”. She had to hid this and hope for the best, and that’s what she did with the help of the Boa sisters.

Somehow hiding her pregnancy was a task in of itself but it had been somehow done, but with that came the actual delivery. Weak and Malnourished as she already was without proper medical care in a dark cell wasn’t a good mix. She’s left at deaths doorstep clinging barely to life after the deed was said and done. The only upside to it all was she felt that sixth sense again, things were changing and her daughters would be free. Before letting herself rest she makes the girls promise to never tell her daughter of her heritage, to protect her and love her as she loved them. Tearfully the girls agree, Hancock vowing she’d raise Dicentra as her own. With how Josephine falls asleep the girls believe her to be dead, and in a way she is…but not fully yet

The mass escape of slaves happens and her daughters flee, through this all Josephine laid on deaths door in her cell. She was ok with dying, had for so long dreamt of such a thing, but anger had let her from not dying quite yet. Half dead and powered only by the knowledge she’d die Josephine gets up. Broken wings crack and move, the pain so blinding it became numb. She had to protect her daughters, had to erase all trace of them here lest a trail is somehow left. And despite never knowing to master her flames she ignites because she herself is the kindling. The already aflame Mary geoise is lit with newer more intense fire that burned to the fire. Josephine burns with mother’s rage and a single wish. Cleanse her homeland with flame just as it was meant to be oh so long ago.

Josephine kills her tormentor and bastard of a man who’s father to her daughter, watches the flames bath him in agony as she holds his face in burning hands. Scarlet eyes glaring down at him as everything burned, her once small flickering flame behind her neck so intense and big it hurt to look at and consumed the background. Flesh melts and blood sizzles in her palms. Josephine dies kneeling on the red earth of her home, staring up to the smouldering sky with broken wings and an outstretched hand to the heavens she so loved. Her scream echoes out among flickering flames and chaos, echoes and reverberates into the sky before turning to nothingness. She burns so intensely that nothing of herself and twenty feet surrounding her body is left besides ash, soot and a trail of bloody feathers littering the ground just outside the crater as her scream of agony faded.

Chapter 1: Childhood from the eyes of a mother

Dicentra grows up on a lie just as everyone else of the Amazon lily does. From the time she could walk and speak she’s told of how her mother and aunts slayed a fierce-some gorgon that had killed her birth mother which led to her being adopted. That gorgon cursed her mom, aunts and herself with a curse bared on their backs. For her mom and her aunts it’s an odd symbol and for Dicentra it’s her wings. But all the same Dicentra knows that her mom is her hero (and though that story is a lie it’s still true she’s her hero) and the young princess stared at her mother in awe and such innocence. It’s something that eats Hancock up inside, that she’s lying to her daughter about everything. Of her wings, her lineage and birth mother and yet she made that vow and she won’t go back in it.

All this leads to though is Hancock being fiercely protective of her daughter, not just for the fact of her blood but because she wants better for Dicentra. She wants her daughter to live happy not plagued by the burden and shame that she and her sisters suffers daily. The memories, the pain, the loss of it all. She wants Dicentra to live the life Hancock wished she had, of never being ripped away from a safe and loving home to be hurt over and over again. It’s why she keeps a close eye on her, especially in the early years where everything is still fresh in her mind of the escape. Perhaps she’s a tad overbearing at times but knowing her daughter is happy and safe within the walls of her nation is all that matters. But as time progresses she does become more lenient towards letting Dicentra do things on her own with the only condition being a bodyguard accompanying her.

At 6 Dicentra has Nightshade assigned as her personal bodyguard and protector. Before then it was randomly assigned guards or Salome who took over watching over the already curious and slightly mischievous young girl. Much to Hancock’s displeasure her daughter takes to running off into the jungles of the Amazon but at the same time she can’t help but be happy her daughter takes her freedom in such strive and not forgranted. Dicentra talks of all range of things she came across once she comes home, from rocks she found to bird feathers pressed in pages. Nightshade with now wild tangled hair standing beside Dicentra posed and proper even with a few leaves and sticks lodged in once straight black hair.

By 7 Hancock decides to have Dicentra be taught proper manners and help her find some hobbies that aren’t just running off into the brush. It’s there that Dicentra finds her talent in Dance and playing instruments, she specifically likes playing the Erhu traditionally played in the Amazon lily. It’s a hobby especially Hancock enjoys because it quickly becomes a source of calm when old memories plague her mind. Perhaps a lifetime ago she would’ve picked up the instrument as well, but now she resides herself to listening to old tunes that would play before that fateful day on a ship leaving home. Whilst she listens she holds her daughter, time seems to slip away and for once all is well for those minutes playing song.

At 9 Dicentra begins to do more things around the Amazon lily. Knowing the jungles area and documenting the plants she finds ends up being useful to apothecaries and doctors on the island. Along with this she starts to also help in delivering things and having a hand in public events. It’s here that she begins to realize what being a princess means even if it’s more a title than anything. To the Amazon lily her mom is cold and respected, the citizens of the island fear and love her and Hancock knows this. They don’t see her compassion behind closed doors but Dicentra does. If her mom is the cold and cool leader that in secret cared, then Dicentra would be a sliver in that door for others to see that kindness. She tells the truth, that her mom asked her to try and find ways to help the other kuja women. As princess the women of the island love her and she notices she means something to everyone there. For the women of the island Dicentra is their kind princess in contrast to their lovely but cruel empress, to Hancock Dicentra is what little hope is left in the world.

At 10 the young princess starts asking Hancock more about the outside world and it leaves the empress silently terrified. They aren’t bad questions, moreso just innocent ones of if places she’d been to were like home. But to Hancock they signify the end. She knew from the moment her bright eyed daughter began to run before learning to walk, began looking out to the sea on the horizon and climbed to the tops of the snake statues overlooking the entire tribe she’d one day be curious enough to leave. That this island would become too small to satisfy her need to see and experience the world. A selfish part of her wished that the luxuries she spoiled her with and the nights in which she’d hug her close whilst promising she’d always be safe here would disway her, but Hancock always knew because of the spark in her eyes that she’d one day leave. It terrifies her and yet she knows one day she’ll have to because she can’t take away Dicentra’s freedom just as hers had been taken. But for now she was safe, leaving was in the future but now she was safe in her arms.

By 11 Dicentra waits by the docks as Hancock sets off to yet another warlord meeting that would go nowhere. Hancock when her daughter was younger would leave her with Sandersonia as she and Marigold would set off into the ocean. But Hancock decides that this time her daughter was old enough to last a few days on her own (despite how terror still grips her heart). Nightshade swears she’ll look after the young girl and none of the Boa’s doubt that. Not when the ex-assassin turned bodyguard has the same look Hancock does when the young girl does something as simple as gifting a flower. It’s a look of wanting to protect something so desperately because it was one of the last pieces of kindness in their world. None of the Boa sisters trust easily, especially not Hancock, and especially if it came to her daughter. But Hancock trusted Nightshade, and that was a feat in of itself. And so Hancock sets off on her ship, trusting her beloved daughter to her bodyguard and ex-empress of the Amazon. Though it’s only for a few days Dicentra helps keep things afloat alongside Gloriosa.

Chapter 2: where the story begins

By 13 Dicentra knows the Amazon lily like the back of her hand. She knows every trail, bend of the river and cove there’s to find in the lush landscape populated by snaking vines and flowers. Pollen coats the air in sweet smells as the distinct smell of rain coming sets in for the young princess and her shadow. But the Rowling black clouds did little to dismay the young girl, if anything it only made her more excited as she quickened her pace and hopped over twisting roots. Having a storm in the calm belt was a rare occurrence, the lack of wind and still waters kept for a stagnant environment but once in awhile a storm would drift from the grand line and breeze briefly through the still water and die off. It made for decent rainfall and any occasional change in weather from the hot climate was always something welcome to the young girl. Nightshade would agree in that retrospect, from the few moments she talked of times past was she talked of a place described as an eternal flowering spring, not cold but not yet summer (though apparently a northern area had snow). So Dicentra raced to the many hidden beaches and coves of the Amazon lily.

its towering cliffs her beloved home had many secret coves beside the main waterway into the heart of the city. Many laid forgotten to time, old boats used generations ago laying still in soft sand that crunched beneath her feet. Typically there was no tide at these hidden beaches and coves, just stagnant water lifting at a certain level against the sand. No white foam decorating its edges like lace if not for the storm stirring the waves. She can’t help but giggle at the sensation, even if her stockings got wet in the ordeal. A few feet away nightshade stood as the wind blew past, still and silent yet eased by now dropping of rain on warm skin.

The rain is cool and refreshing, trailing down and leaving hair damp.

But calm only lasts a moment.

Typically when a storm blew through the calm belt it was mild at worst and calm rain at its least. It was almost always that way with nothing to keep feeding its trajectory as it fizzled out and died.

But sometimes depending on how large the storm was prior it could survive long enough to be just as powerful as it was in the grand line.

One second Dicentra is standing at the waters edge basking in the cool rain, the other second she’s dragged in by once cerulean blue waves that became crashing cold darkness. The void encompasses the entirety of her as she’s choked from air and the cold grasping at her bones. Instinct sets in immediately but the shock of near icey waves and pulling current tossing her like a rag doll make it impossible to do so. Helplessly she floats in near darkness as storm clouds blocked out sun and made the waters a chilling void. The image of complete utter darkness as she reaches blindly engraved itself in her mind. Never once has she felt such a fear of the dark. When she was younger she hadn’t feared it, rather was intrigued to explore it instead. But now it grips and drags her down down, down into is abyss.

But then a hand appears from the dark, Nightshade.

Twitchy and icey fingers grasp the stronger hand that then pulls.

She lands on the old rickety boat with a thud and immediately sea water streams out in pained coughs. Wind blows wildly tussling hair as waves crash against the edges of the boat. She can barely see over wet hair clinging to her face but she feels Nightshade hold her for dear life and above the yelling waves her protector screams to hold onto her with all she can.

Dicentra does as says and feels a colossal pain hit her before a once friendly darkness consumes her vision.

Chapter 3: turning point

Waking up is typically a calming routine for Dicentra. If mom wasn’t on a warlord meeting she’d brush sit down with her and her mom would brush her hair. It was a daily tradition, on in which her mother would hum quietly and gently comb through her hair. Sometimes she’d check to see if the pink dye of her hair was loosing its pigment, if so she’d ask if she wanted to leave it natural or dye it once more. Dicentra always opted to dye it again. Crushed up flowers mixed with imported hair products then used to stain once lily White hair again. That was their tradition together alongside at night having mom look at her wings and care for them. Apologizing as she helped her wings molt or placing a soothing cream on the sore hurting appendages. So waking up one morning with sunlight streaming on her face on linen instead of the familiar feeling of silk is odd. Not bad but it doesn’t make sense for a few moments as her sleep plagued brain thought through what had happened.

She remembered a storm, darkness gripping her, coughing up slat water that burned her lungs and then clutching Nightshade for dear life.

Nightshade!

Despite her body feeling like wet bricks Dicentra finds herself dragging herself from the small bed she was laid on. Blindly she reaches out expecting to find her closest companion besides her family. Instead though she meets something else instead.

Nightshade was a lithe person. beautifully strong despite her lack of visible muscles. She used to ask her shadow of a bodyguard how she was able to be so strong without being as muscular as aunty Marigold. The quiet woman would simply hum, saying something about she isn’t strong but has good instincts and reflexes. Point being in all of this the arm she grabbed wasn’t that of Nightshade, it was muscular

“Oh yoi? You’re awake finally.” The voice is weirdly deep and as her eyes adjust Dicentra is faced with someone crouching down to her level. Blue eyes stare at her from behind glasses….this was a weird looking woman.

This is where things would come into motion

I’ll leave it at this for now. But rest assured she has more story

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

Arthur Morgan Headcannons

I just wanted to write some headcannons, about Arthur, literally anything, I don't care what it is exactly so that's what you're getting.

Some of the headcannons might be a bit more oriented towards a female reader, but not all, I myself am a woman, so, I'll more than likely put some in.

Arthur Morgan is a man who will gladly enjoy any person, regardless of size, but let's be real, I think he has a bit of a soft spot for bigger women. Chunky or thicc, he likes 'em

He thinks that with more there, there's more for him to grab and less of a chance that he'll break something when he's with you, whether it's in a bit more intimate situation, or even when he's just giving you a small hug or kiss.

Arthur is extremely observant. He pays attention to the things you like, and he is literally always on top of doing the things you like or buying you whatever will make you smile. 

If he finds out how much you like his voice? Uses it against you, because he doesn’t want to torture you, but he does want to see you riled up. 

You like how warm he is? He’ll always be watching to see when you get cold, and the moment you do he’s right behind you with his arms around your waist. 

Arthur has a SEVERE gambling addiction. You thought his smoking was bad? He plays poker almost every single night that he’s in camp, and sometimes it’s a blessing and others it’s a curse. He can go rounds at a time, winning each one, but as soon as he has one bad round, they all go bad, but he’s never willing to give up until you make him, and by the end of the ordeal he’s lost more money than made. 

He also has a huge ego problem, obviously he’s mentally ill and he’s depressed with who he is as a person, and he doesn’t think very highly of himself, but the moment you manage to boost his ego, that little swagger walk of his that you so dearly love grows more confident. 

Hell, sometimes even you just saying good morning can change his whole mood, and he’ll even be nice to other people in camp when he usually only tolerates them.

Arthur has this thing, that when he leaves camp for a certain amount of time, anything that’ll be longer than a day really, but usually when its about a week of being away. He’ll come back to camp, make a beeline for you, and whisper only loud enough for you to hear “Can you be quiet for me while I fuck you or do I have to take you outta camp?” 

And thus, you are prepared, obviously.

He’s like a dog in heat, mainly because he hadn’t been with anyone in so long and after a while he’d stopped going after working girls. No one had really made his body react like you did, so it never became a problem until he got with you. 

He draws you all the time, obviously he draws, he’s got a whole sketchbook dedicated to it, but he draws you almost any chance he can. Not because he’s some corny “I love you more than life itself” kind of person, which, he is, but because he thinks that out of everyone in camp you are the most fun to draw, your features are just more entertaining and enjoyable to make out with a pencil.

Arthur loves to eat good food, and while Pearson does a decent job it’s not exactly what he would consider gourmet food, so whenever he gets the chance to try new food, or get good food at least, he’ll splurge the money. The only reason he hasn’t gotten completely fat, though he is a little on the chubbier side, which you absolutely love, and think is hot as hell, is because of all the work he does for the gang.

He calls you all kinds of nicknames and pays attention to the ones that get the biggest reaction out of you. 

He’s found that Princess does a particularly great job at getting a rouse out of you, but he’s also found that if he says it in his normal tone it doesn’t have the same effect, he has to lower his voice for it to work the way he wants it too. 

Darlin’ and Sweetheart have about the same effect, although Darlin’ seems to make you feel a little more for him in serious situations. 

Sugar makes you go beet red in the face, and he’s figured out that one is another one he can lower his voice for. 

Honey is one that he thinks you like, but he also thinks you’re a little neutral on it. Sometimes it works, other times you just don’t seem to care that much. You’ll answer to it, but that’s about all.

Good Girl, or My Girl, regardless of tone, but especially when lowered, always gets you messed up and he knows it, which is exactly why he waits until you’re at the fire surrounded by the gang to whisper it in your ear. 

On the other hand, you have only a few nicknames for him.

Cowboy, it’s tried and true, describes him, basically to a Tee, although Outlaw works better. 

Honey, again, a neutral one. 

You are the only person, and I mean, only person he allows to call him Pretty Boy, if anyone else tries it they’re liable to find a knife beneath their neck.

Big Boy will send him skyrocketing, his face will flare so hard his ears will turn red and he’ll start stuttering over his words like a newborn calf stumbling on its legs. 

Good Boy will really get him motivated and usually if you say it to him in public, he has to excuse himself until he gets rid of his problem. 

You hate to admit it, because you know it’s bad for him, but you think that when he smokes cigarettes, he’s at one of his hottest points. When he finds this out, he makes it his goal to smoke more around you.

Occasionally he’ll wait until you wake up and walk out of his tent shirtless and lean against the wooden poles to smoke, and he’ll send a smirk your way, that he knows you like. 

When you start to share his tent together, he does the same thing, however, rather than getting up he just simply leans over you and grabs the smokes, he’ll light a match against the wagon and puff away with his hands behind his head. 

His absolute favorite thing to do is smack you on the ass and run away, he thinks it’s the absolute funniest thing ever to watch you chase him, he’s got longer legs, so it’s easier to stay away from you. 

He also loves it when you wear his hat, however, if you do, he’s going to use it as an excuse to take you to the tent. 

If you get him drunk, first off, I’m sorry, second off, you better have a leash. He’s a lot happier drunk, he likes to sing and talk, and he compliments everyone, but he also likes to stumble around and go adventure, and if you don’t keep a good eye on him he’s liable to mount up on his horse, albeit slowly, and then make his way into the nearest town to cause mayhem.

Do not let him drink with John, because rather than being a fun loving drunk he will start trying to fight John and then the night is ruined for everyone. 

He also gets more handsy when he drinks, he was already handsy before, but now, when he’s drunk and he couldn’t care less about what people thought about him, he was going to touch wherever he wanted on you. 

Your stomach? He’s got his arms around it.

Your ass? Being grabbed any time he’s walking, or stumbling rather, with you. 

Tits? Regardless of gender? They have been honked at least twice. 

He will kiss you, if it’s on the lips or on the neck, that is anyone’s gamble. 

He’ll even talk dirty to you, and not quietly like he would if he was sober, he’ll do it for everyone in camp to hear, and the only way to shut him up is to either kiss him or somehow drag all two hundred and forty pounds of him into his tent. 

All in all Arthur Morgan is Arthur Morgan and if you make the decision to be his you better be ready to deal with it.

[merakiui]

Oh my gosh, Yandere! Floyd thoughts???? I really want him to be cute and cuddly towards darling after the initial threats, kidnapping, and stalking. He’s so cute and adorable compared to the rest of the trio, I need a little fluff.

I love the way you said that he wants to cuddle with darling without the fear. Just him trying to make himself smaller for darling’s comfort or even trying to make their favorite foods or trying to make them smile. I think we all need a little Floyd thought in our lives.

Also, love the idea of Floyd goofily dancing with darling just to get them out of bed and make them smile a little bit.

I don’t know, just I love your version of Floyd so much.

He is really cute and cuddly! I realized I never wrote many thoughts on yandere!Floyd, so now is the time! :D

(cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, captivity, mentions of violence, obsession)

Unlike Jade, who delights in your fear or Azul, who is desperate enough to delude himself into thinking your fear is just shyness, Floyd wants a genuine connection. For a while he might have fun toying with you, but that will get old soon. It’ll annoy him if all you ever do is cry or shake or cower from him whenever he’s nearby. He actively tries to put on a kind face for you. He tries to be patient to the best of his ability and cook meals he knows you like. Sometimes he’ll get frustrated and kick or punch the wall right near your head if you won’t eat what he offers and that’ll frighten you. Floyd is trying so hard to put his feelings into words, but he never quite can and so he uses actions to speak for himself. Though sometimes that winds up with him damaging things out of annoyance or anger.

He never hurts you, though. He never raises a hand to you; he’ll threaten those things if he’s particularly angry or upset. But he never, never hits you, breaks any bones, bites hard enough to draw blood. He doesn’t even touch you most days; you always get so scared if his large hand comes anywhere near you, so he keeps his hands to himself, even if the overwhelming urge to squeeze and hug and cuddle is ever-present. Even in the midst of a particularly volatile mood swing, Floyd knows that violence can’t solve this. He could hit you, but then that would just make you fear him even more. So he’ll bend down to your height when you’re sitting on the floor, usually cowering in the corner, and he won’t do anything. He’ll just remain there, talking to you in a soft voice.

Eventually Floyd gets the idea to actually make the barrier between the two of you visible. He’ll draw a line on the floor with chalk and tell you that he won’t cross it. And he follows his rule surprisingly well. He’ll sit cross-legged on the other side and watch as you pick at the food he’s put in front of you, humming to himself as he admires your cute hands. He wants to hold them so badly.

“The floor can’t be all that comfy.”

He starts with simple conversation topics like this one in hopes that one of them will break the ice between the both of you. Some days he’s granted a nod or a tiny hum. Most days you’re quiet. He does get angry when you don’t respond, but he tries so very hard to not scare you. He tries to keep his moods under control, which is such a strange thing because he’s never controlled anything before. He’s never needed to; he was spoiled enough to get away with anything. Jade spoiled him. His parents spoiled him. No one could talk back to him, no one could fight him, no one could dream of giving him the cold shoulder and getting away bruise-free. But things are different with you.

“You can sleep in the bed, ya know. It’s softer.” He’ll smile lopsidedly at you, tilting his head innocently. “Warmer, too.”

“N-No thank you.”

Floyd shrugs. “Suit yourself.” And he drops the subject just like that, only to try again with something else. “It kinda sucks when shrimpy’s always so scared. I’m not scary, yeah? I’m not like Jade.” He’ll chuckle to himself, as if it’s a joke he’s in on. “Ah! You should’ve seen him back when we were little. He hated losing. Was a real baby about it. Can you believe that? Anyway, there was this one time when I’d gotten into a fight and those bastards did a number on me, and Jade didn’t like it because I was all messed up, ya know? So when he met with them…” He’ll trail off when he notices your fear and then he realizes that a story about Jade beating the life out of a few unfortunate mers isn’t really comforting to hear. “You like soft things, shrimpy?”

The way he changes topics so frequently is almost as unnerving as he is, but you’ll give your reply with a nod. And come the next day he’s brought soft things for you: ice cream, sweet bread, gummy candies, an eel plushie, a shrimp plushie, blankets, pillows, even the mattress from the spare bedroom is dragged out for you. Floyd sits across from you, held back with that chalk barrier, and he’ll have his knees pulled into his chest, his chin resting on top as he smiles dreamily at you. You who is all wrapped up in blankets, who is sitting on the mattress and no longer on the cold hardwood. Floyd doesn’t need to chain you to get you to stay. His presence is enough of a collar.

“Now shrimpy’s comfy and warm.” He tilts his head at you, still smiling. “It’s colder in the sea, ya know. Real cold. Like turn-your-blood-to-ice cold. And it’s dark…” He’s not sure where he’s going with this, but you’re listening, looking at him from where you’re pressed against the wall. Floyd sighs a dramatic, exaggerated sigh and rises to his feet. “It’s too quiet in here!”

You flinch at the sudden rise in octave, and Floyd’s quick to withdraw his phone and put on some upbeat music. You stare at it, shoulders tensed.

“You know how to dance?” If you shake your head, he’ll grin and add, “Everyone can dance, even merfolk.”

And he’ll dance to the music in the goofiest of ways. He doesn’t seem to care; he just follows his own beat despite the ones that trickle out of his phone. You’ll watch him as he moves. It’s…actually a little silly. Before you know it, you’re cracking a smile, maybe even giggling alongside him, and Floyd’s smile is so bright and wide when he sees an expression other than sadness or fear. He never would have gotten this through violence or force. He’s doing the right thing and that makes him immensely happy.

Despite his scary appearance, he’s so sweet. He’ll play with the eel and shrimp plushie as if they’re dolls, making them talk to one another in hopes of getting you to smile. He spends each day separated from you by a line of chalk, doing all sorts of things to chase your fear away. And the next time he offers his hand for a dance, you reach out to take it and your hand is so warm and precious in his. He’s hit people with his hands, punched them until teeth cracked and had to be spat out in bloody lumps of gum. He’s choked people with these hands. He’s done so many violent things, but he won’t hurt you. He’s promised himself that.

So his fingers close around your hand so gently and he helps you up from the floor, uncharacteristically quiet. He’s watching you, though, his brows furrowed in concentration. As if he thinks you might retreat or fall or disappear. But he doesn’t hold you forcefully. You could easily slip out of his grasp if you wanted to.

There’s some reservation when you hesitate to step over the barrier. He looks into your eyes and smiles, connected to you only through holding your hand. For once Floyd doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to scare you away. He’s made progress! Real, true progress. He can’t ruin this. Instead of filling the air with chatter, he’ll remain quiet and let you gather yourself. You might lower back onto the mattress and if you do that’s okay. He can wait and try again tomorrow. He will wait. He’ll be patient for you. He won’t hurt you. He won’t scare you. He’ll be good to you.

Floyd can never quite verbalize I love you, but you’ll know he cares for you with every fond, tender gesture. He wants to do things the right way—the good way. The way that’s patient and kind and endearing. The way that won’t have you scared of him. And maybe one day he’ll finally get to share a dance with you.

[ryuichirou]

How do you draw Idia’s hair so good?? I struggle with the basic shapes so much!

Sorry for the late reply! Your ask got us excited because Idia’s hair is such a pain to draw, but also such a fun detail, and I’m very happy that you like the way I draw it <3

Katsu suggested to me to record a speedpaint, and uhh, here it is. Please, don’t mind the wonky anatomy and me horsing around with zooming in and out randomly. As you can see, I struggle with Idia’s hair myself and constantly redraw it until I’m satisfied or at least tired enough to say “eh, that’ll do”. In case you’re wondering, it took me ~25-30 minutes to do the hair, and the original video was 59 min long lol I always spend a lot of time moving, reshaping and redrawing details when I draw Idia…

I’ll also list some tips and thoughts about it based on the way I draw it…

The shape of Idia’s hair is not at all consistent. Even in Toboso’s art it looks slightly different sometimes, which makes sense, because Idia has magical fire hair and technically you could do whatever you want with it.

But some rules tend to apply each time. For example, even though Idia’s hair is long and seems naturally “heavy” because of it, the individual strands tend to be turned upwards, like fire would. Not every single one, but the shorter ones and the ones closer to Idia’s head tend to do so. 

It’s wavy, but not too wavy. If the hair starts looking too “soft”, add sharp edges, random strands sticking out, rough shapes, etc.

Oh, and it’s important to remember that it floats. This means, it doesn’t just go straight down, it does this weird “S” shape. It’s also hella long, I always forget just how long Idia’s hair is. If the magic fire logic didn’t apply to it, it would reach the ground easily. The volume of his hair is much bigger than I tend to remember too: it's quite thick and luscious lol So please give him lots of hair!

Tiny little flames + “holes” in the main ehh body of hair (wow there must be a way to phrase it better) make everything look good and more believable. Have fun with it. You might’ve noticed, I draw and redraw and move them around a lot in my speedpaint.

Obviously, I am no expert, and every artist I know draws Idia’s hair a little bit differently. The speedpaint doesn’t show it, but I always have some of Toboso’s artworks of Idia open when I draw him, just to make sure his design is not too off. I would definitely recommend looking at refs while drawing Idia (or anyone), and maybe even trying to redraw the hair from Toboso’s artworks once or twice as a study, it’ll probably make it easier to understand how Idia’s hair works.

You haven’t asked about the colouring, but I love colouring Idia’s hair, so I’ll talk about it a little. Colouring Idia’s hair is simultaneously the most fun and the most tedious part of drawing him lol 15 minutes of my hour long video is just me filling Idia’s hair with the base blue colour with a lasso (I refuse to use a bucket tool…)

But once you’re done with the base, this is where the fun begins. Because at this stage you can be pretty rough, just add in darker and deeper blues near the middle/core(?) of the hair mass. It doesn’t have to be very even or pretty, add some smaller dark spots; we personally really love it when Idia has this round little blob on his bangs. In the video you can see that I added it later on because I forgot about it lol

After the dark part is done, erase the ends of it a little bit with a soft brush. Not too much, we should still be able to see the shapes.

Then, on a separate layer set on overlay mode, with the same soft brush add some additional brighter spots, to make the hair look glowy. I used the same light blue as the base colour, and the overlay gives it a pretty hue.

And finally, add some white highlights at the ends of the strands. This is the stage when everything stops looking wrong and weird and starts looking like Idia, at least to me.

Phew, I think this is everything I wanted to say… I hope it was at least somewhat helpful.

Sorry for the long post, I just love talking about the drawing process. And about Idia too!

Once again, thank you for your kind words; I’m very happy that you like my art.

Have a good day!

[thelyingjoke]

Tenko and Kokichi sibling agenda??

ok well i’ve been rewatching v3 lately and i’ve been Noticing a ton of tenko & kokichi interactions that are so fun. likeeee the part in trial 2 where tenko just kept interrupting kokichi? and then goes “mm no i wasn’t”? tell me that isn’t the most petty sibling shit ever (i have visualized it for you)

the worsties <3 there’s a few more stuff w/ images i wanna talk about so that’ll be under the cut👍

there’s also that bit where they both call kaito stupid and idk that has always stuck with me

and i don’t feel like drawing anything else but also some other bits i think about are when tenko freaks out thinking kokichi wants to start the killing game and he offers her gum, to which she offers to bash his head in. i know average tenko behavior towards men But i think about it anyway (also side tangent i love how kokichi just. Carries sticks of gum with him the entire game and runs out at chapter 4. he is BIG fan of bubble gum. real reason he was so upset that chapter wasn’t because of the motive or miu trying to kill him it was because he ran out of bubble gum /j)

and! this small bit. these are all tiny but they mean so much to me i think they would have an awesome sibling dynamic, such an underrated duo honestly

[th3-0bjectivist]

Chipper and Romi, A Love Story (and page update w/ Springin’ Chip)

Heya Tumblr folks, its page mascot Springin’ Chip here, and its autumn! And I’m in loooooove. Met a young woman. Her name is Romi. Young love is painful, folks. It’s supposed to teach you lessons that’ll help you adjust as an adult. And let me tell ya, there’s lots of pain in this relationship! So far, Romi and I enjoy playfully fighting in the park, late-night sleepovers, and deep talks about our future and the nature of the universe. It’s good to find something positive in 2024! I hope you had little specs of happiness this year as well. ANYWAYS, onto the brief page update.

So, folks, we’re going to be taking election week entirely off, maybe two weeks. When we get back, we’ll have three more songs to post and a few more paintings/drawings in 24’. Why take election week off you ask?? Well, primarily because partisan politics completely ruined Tumblr this year. It literally sucked all the fun out of everything and turned some usually normal people who we follow(ed) into shrieking, insufferable, irrational, pants-shitting dipshits. There’s nothing more useless than keyboard activism, and when we log in to Tumblr, we’re mostly looking for something that helps us mentally escape the harsh reality we’re living in. I mean, folks, as a dog, I really couldn't care less how you vote. What you do in the voting booth, just like in your bed, is none of my damn business. I followed your blog because I think you create exceptional art, or take excellent pictures, or generate excellent poetry, or make quality sounds, or because you have some hidden X factor, or because I think you’re a goddamned bona fide genius. I do NOT come to Tumblr for politics for several reasons, but mostly because… no one on here is a political expert and I’d rather not know how you vote at all. I’d rather you keep me guessing at how you vote and keep that to yourself. If for no other reason, because your politics matter to you, and I appreciate a bit of mystique.

Th3-0 wants me to tell you he early voted in North Carolina today. He said it was easy; he showed up early, he’d done his research beforehand, so he knew how he wanted to vote, it took like ten minutes. It was like, zip-zip-zip. The people at the voting site were friendly, the ballot process was streamlined. You don’t need to know how th3-0bjectivist votes. All you need to do is stop telling others how to vote and go out and vote. If you’re with friends or family that haven’t voted, tell them, “Okay c’mon! We’re all gonna go vote now!” Stop whining, stop whinging, and just go and vote folks. These last six months have been exhausting and demoralizing for the entire US. And if your side loses, learn how to lose with grace. Don’t let them see you sweat and think to yourself; what did my side do wrong to lose this election!?

Depending on the seismic reaction after the election, it could be up to two weeks until this blog is back up folks. Just please, grip fast to your mental health, hold your nose, and treat each other with respect. This year has been crazy enough. There’s no need to get crazier. th3-0bjectivist’s blog will be back for about two months and then after that we’re gonna take a LONGASS break from this platform to recover from the wretched, traumatizing, ass-ramming partisan shitstorm that was 24’.

Alt-links below in case you miss th3-0.

Stop bitchin' and just vote, Springin’ Chip

*****

The 0bjectivist on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC2sONH8IwzL_2sZie0ZNSnw/

I’m also on BitChute: https://www.bitchute.com/channel/uvKfJpNkzkIL/

FULL ART GALLERY on Instagram at: https://www.instagram.com/th3_0bjectivist_gallery/ <—- This just in, Instagram is for selfie-takers and living-my-best lifers! Delete your account early, just like early voting! We deleted our account this year, and we don't miss it!

FULL ART GALLERY on DeviantArt at: https://www.deviantart.com/th3-0bjectivist/gallery

[questinwitchface]

WIP Game

Rules: Share a snippet from whatever you’re currently working on, and then tag 5 people.

Thank you for tagging me, @sunsetmaidenwrites ! I have my hands full with my 31 Days of Halloween Advent Event right now, and I thought about sharing a WIP from that challenge, but to be truthful, I have been procrastinating working on those fics lately. So, instead, have this snippet from chapter four of The Sequel to The Pirate Fic, which I'm hoping to finish the draft of this year (though I'm currently on chapter 14 out of the 21 I have planned, and I've seemed to hit a bit of a roadblock, so we'll see if that actually happens).

I think everyone I would typically tag in a game like this has already been tagged, and I don't want to annoy anyone by double-tagging them, so if you're reading this and you want to participate, consider yourself tagged by me :)

“I’m fine, Sam,” Bucky repeats, and he even mostly means it. “You should rest with the others,” he adds, looking over at where Rita and Jim are sitting at the base of a tree as Jim bandages Rita’s hands for her. Further away, Oscar and John are sitting with their shoulders pressed together, talking quietly amongst themselves. Steve and Monty are chatting near the back of the group. Kate and Clint are both still standing guard. “I’m alright,” Sam insists. “I was mostly just hoping for some time with you.” Bucky smiles in spite of the fact that Kate definitely heard that. “Did you need something specific, or just to be around me?” Bucky asks, keeping his voice neutral. “I need to look at the map.” “I’m not stopping you,” Sam says, though his voice is tinged with a little sadness. Bucky can’t stand it when Sam sounds sad. He wraps an arm around Sam’s waist and holds him close, then puts the map into Sam’s hands. Sam grins and holds it open in front of them. “Okay, so we started here,” Bucky says softly into Sam’s ear, pointing out where they’d come ashore on the beach. “That was elephant rock,” he adds, pointing to where a drawing of an elephant appears on the map, with words in a foreign language Bucky knows Sam doesn’t speak underneath it. “Mhm,” Sam hums, nodding along. “What do those words say?” he asks, squinting at them as if that’ll somehow make their meaning clearer. “It says ‘the elephant guards the entrance to the forest,’” Bucky answers. Sam nods. “Okay, so we passed that and followed this path here?” he asks, tracing a line that intersects with the river. “Yes,” Bucky says. “Then we turned left, so we’re heading this way, along the river,” he says, tracing that line for Sam. “The next landmark is a waterfall.” Sam nods, looking at where the waterfall is illustrated on the map with more writing underneath. “This is fun,” he says after a moment. “Being out here with you, doing this.” Bucky can’t help a sardonic smile. “We just almost lost someone, and you’re telling me this is fun?” “I’ve always been a little bit reckless,” Sam admits, looking up at Bucky with those gorgeous brown eyes. “I couldn’t tell,” Bucky deadpans. Regretfully, he lets Sam go and takes the map from him. “It’s about that time,” he says. Sam nods. He pulls Bucky into a quick, sweet kiss, then turns and makes his way back toward the others. Bucky turns to watch him walk away and catches sight of Monty and Steve both giving him puppy eyes. Bucky scowls and then turns away from them. They laugh.

[oliverreedmasterass]

GVF going to a liquor store before a party they are throwing may be a bit of a disaster.

I am SO SORRY it's taken me so long to write this!! But I absolutely love this idea, thank you for the prompt!

Booze Run

Words: 3k

Warnings: language, drinking, mentions of hallucinations

------------------------------------------

“How much time do we have before people start coming over?” Sam asked from the couch, placing his oversized sunglasses on his face upside down as he studied the cracks in the ceiling. 

“A couple hours, maybe two or three?” Josh guessed from his spot on the carpet beneath the glass living room table. 

“We still need to go out and grab drinks,” Danny realized.

Jake let out a huff. “Fuck,” he grumbled. 

Slowly, the four men leaned forward from their spots around Sam’s living room and studied each other, none looking all too enthusiastic to get up. Taking charge as the oldest (and most mature, in his opinion) of the four, Josh cleared his throat. 

“Let’s make a game out of our drink run,” he suggested. He scanned his bandmates’ faces and was pleased to see that he had their attention. Sam was the first to take the bait. 

“What kind of game?” he squinted his eyes. Josh’s idea of a good time was usually a hit or miss. Josh rubbed his hands together and tried to think on his feet. 

“It’ll be like Secret Santa,” he planned. “We draw names and then buy a bottle of something for that person, and that’ll be their drink for the evening.” 

“That seems like it could be fun,” Danny commented. 

“We can call it Incognito Intoxicants,” Jake muttered. 

“That’s the spirit!” Josh called out in joy. 

“Literally, the spirit,” Jake whispered to himself, cracking a smile at his play on words.

With a grunt Josh rolled himself out from underneath the coffee table and sprung to his feet while clapping his hands, which made Danny jump in shock. “We need a hat to put the names in,” Josh announced. 

Sam slowly looked across the couch at Jake and tracked his eyes up to the straw hat that was tugged over Jake’s ears. Jake cautiously looked back at Sam with his eyebrow arched and gave his head a shake, warning Sam to stay back. Seemingly unbothered by his glare, Sam lurched across the middle sofa cushion between them and tore the hat off his head, causing Jake to let out a surprised squeak.

“My hair is greasy,” Jake complained as he retracted his hands up to cover his head.  

“Josh asked for a hat, and you’ve got a hat. Get over it.” 

Jake continued to cover his roots in sheer embarrassment, but he didn’t argue with Sam any further. While they had an intense stare-off, Josh hurried back to Sam’s kitchen and retrieved a pen and a stack of post-it notes so he could scribble out everyone’s names. Still maintaining eye contact with Jake, Sam handed Josh the hat so he could toss the papers inside. 

“Who should pick first?” Danny asked after gazing at Jake and Sam with worry. 

Sam averted his attention from Jake and cleared his throat. “I say youngest first.” 

“Just because you said that, we’re starting with the oldest first,” Josh countered. 

“Nope,” Jake stepped in, holding a throw pillow over his head to replace his hat. “I started this band, so you all have me to thank for your success. It’s only right that I go first.” 

While the brothers bickered amongst themselves, Danny slid a paper out from Jake’s straw hat, which was left unattended on the coffee table. He read the name and made a soft “huh” sound which caught the Kiszkas’ attention, as they turned around to face him. 

“Josh can go next since this was his idea,” Danny delegated. “And then Jake, and then Sam.” 

“Why am I last?” Sam whined. Danny chose to ignore his friend and passed the hat to Josh, who methodically selected a paper. Jake grabbed the hat from Josh, pulled out a paper, and threw the remaining one at Sam so he could secure his hat back on his head. 

“Happy with your results?” Danny asked around. Josh, Jake, and Sam were all staring down at their post-it notes, looking deep in thought. Finally Josh snapped his head up and gave Danny a large thumbs up. 

“I got exactly who I wanted.” 

“Me too,” Sam agreed. 

“Same,” Jake’s smile was wide. Danny was glad that he had dodged a full-fledged Kiszka fight and, since he was feeling good, he offered to drive them all down to the local liquor store, which was about ten minutes away. 

“I call shotgun,” Josh hollered before his brothers could call dibs.  

“I can drive us there,” Jake frowned at Danny. 

“No you can’t, dude,” Sam put a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Your license is fucking suspended.” 

“Is it?” Jake turned around to face his brother. 

“You still have four months to go,” Sam looked at him with concern. “Please don’t tell me you’ve been driving around.” 

“How the hell do you think I got here?” Jake stared back at his brother. 

“Oh lord,” Sam pinched at the bridge of his nose. 

Danny retrieved his car keys from his shorts pocket and rattled them around to get everyone’s attention. With their eyes all on him, Danny nodded towards the door. 

“The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get this run over with.” 

“Amen to that,” Sam agreed. 

On the drive to the liquor store, Sam leaned in Jake’s direction, which caused him to instinctually fling his hand up to hold his hat in place so Sam wouldn’t steal it. Sam rolled his eyes at this and tried to whisper at Jake so Danny and Josh wouldn’t hear from the front seats. 

“Whose name did you draw?” he asked. Jake looked at Sam out of the corner of his eye, pursed his lips together, and then shook his head, earning a huff from Sam. “I knew you wouldn’t talk,” Sam’s tone was bitter. 

“It’ll spoil the surprise,” Jake whispered back. 

In the driver’s seat, Danny’s mind was racing as they sped along the highway. He had picked Sam’s name and, in a state of panic, was trying to remember what kind of booze Sam liked best. Secret Santa was one of Danny’s favorite games because he loved treating those closest to him to a nice surprise and seeing if they could guess that he was the one who had gone out of his way to get them something especially heartfelt. He hoped that he could find something that would brighten Sam’s day.

On the flip side, Josh watched the trees pass by out the window and grinned. He had chosen Danny’s name and, while the man was about as kind as they come, Josh couldn’t resist the temptation to find him a bottle that was sure to make groan in dread. Otherwise, what was the point of the game? 

“Can you at least give me a hint?” Sam tried to whisper to Jake again. Once more Jake shook his head, which Sam responded to by sticking out his tongue. 

“And…we’re here,” Danny announced as he put the car in park. “Thank god,” he added under his breath. It was a miracle that no mayhem broke loose on their drive over. The guys unbuckled their seatbelts and, in a line, moved to the entrance of the liquor store. With Josh in the lead, he pulled the glass door open and they entered the cramped shop, the bell ringing sharply over their heads. 

“I’ll give us ten minutes to get our drinks,” Josh shared with his friends as they stood in the front entrance of the store. “If you don’t check out by 6:10, you’re disqualified.” 

“Let’s sync our watches,” Jake looked around at everyone. “Oh wait,” he realized, “I don’t have a watch.” 

Josh ignored his brother’s comment and nodded around at the group. “I’ll grab the other drinks for the party as well,” he said. “I already know what drink I’m getting for the Incognito Intoxicant, I don’t need ten minutes.” 

“Ooh, cocky,” Sam poked fun. “Look at this guy.” 

Once again, Josh let that comment pass without any acknowledgment. 

“Ready?” he looked around for confirmation. After being met with nods, Josh waved his hand down with a swoosh and called out, “go!” 

Immediately Sam, Jake, and Danny tore for separate parts of the liquor store: Jake to the spirits section, Sam to the aisle filled to the brim with wine, and Danny to the beer. Josh chuckled as he watched them disappear and strolled to the register where a middle aged man was watching Josh and his friends with interest. 

“Your usual?” he asked as Josh folded his arms on the sticky counter. 

“Yup, and a little extra something,” Josh said with a quick wink. The cashier rolled a couple of kegs out from the back and then retrieved a set of keys to unlock the glass case behind him. “Oscar Wilde me,” Josh called to him. “I want some hard stuff.” 

“What’s the occasion?” the cashier conversed with Josh. 

“Just introducing one of my pals to something out of this world,” Josh grinned. The cashier slid an especially old looking bottle to Josh, who inspected it. “This is perfect,” he blew out. 

In the beer section, Danny looked up and down the rows of bottles with a deep frown. He knew that Sam really didn’t care too much about beer, as long as it went down without a fight, but he wanted to find something that Sam was sure to love. The problem was, Danny’s understanding of beer was about the same as Sam’s. If the first taste didn’t make his face scrunch up in disgust, he usually considered it to be a winner. 

“I should find something imported,” Danny whispered to himself. “Sam is into that kinda shit.” 

He moved past the Bud Light and Coors bottles and perked up when he found a case of German beers that advertised a light and fruity flavor. It was a relatively hot day in Nashville, so Danny knew that, after letting the beers chill in the fridge for a few hours, Sam would be in for a real treat. He grabbed the case, inspected it to make sure there was no damage on the cardboard casing, and carried the booze up to the front register. 

Sam was having a field day in the wine section, finding a bottle for his Incognito Intoxicant, Josh. Josh was known for his salty dogs, but the guy also enjoyed a good glass of wine from time to time. It only felt right that Sam would choose the most rank bottle of wine on the shelf to make up for all the snooty comments he had to endure from Josh on their many winery outings. It was easy to single out the really bad bottles since they were at the very edge of the aisle and all listed for under $10 per bottle. Sam considered grabbing some two buck chuck to burn a hole through Josh’s intestines, but then gaped at a bottle tucked on the bottom row. 

“Oh shit,” Sam whispered, grabbing the drink and then cradling it in his arms. “Josh is in for a rough night.” 

Jake gazed at the fancy bottles of hard liquor around him and felt entirely in his element. He didn’t have a firm idea what he wanted to buy, so he decided to let fate call the shots and spun around in ten quick circles, to the point where he couldn’t tell left from right. With his vision blurred beyond belief, Jake stumbled around the aisle and eventually grasped onto one of the metal bars securing the bottles of booze in place. He held himself steady and tried to regain his composure before taking in the bottle in front of his face.

“Oh ho ho,” he chuckled at his selection. 

Everyone eventually met back at Danny’s car, all making it in time before their ten minutes were up. Jake nearly didn’t make it because it took him a while to find the cashier due to his spinning head, but he still had a few minutes to spare. 

“Feeling good?” Josh asked around. 

“Hell fuckin yeah,” Sam replied. Danny nodded with a wide grin. 

“Ay,” Jake added. 

“Let’s do the grand reveal then,” Josh announced. He pulled a pen out of his back pocket and quickly scrawled out a name on the paper bag that was concealing his bottle. Taking his lead, Danny, Sam, and Jake proceeded to do the same and then, all filled with anticipation, they placed their bottles in the middle of the circle. 

“Should we have at it?” Danny could hardly contain his excitement. Josh nodded and the four tore for the pile of booze, trying to seek out their designated drink. 

“Get your grimey fingers off my bottle,” Sam scolded Josh, who was holding Sam’s bag and trying to find the name on it. While Sam, Josh, and Danny struggled to retrieve their respective beverages, Jake was quick to snatch his bag and stand off to the side, watching them in interest. 

“How hard is it to find your goddamn name?” he had to ask. This kicked Sam, Josh, and Danny into gear and, within seconds, everything was sorted out. 

“We’ll go one at a time and guess who got us our drink,” Josh shared, then turning on his heel to face Danny. “You go first.” 

“I think I can guess who drew my name,” Danny murmured with a laugh as he stuck his hand into the bag and slowly pulled out an aged bottle of absinthe. “Huh?” he stared down at the label. Jake and Sam started to howl with laughter. 

“I thought you could change it up tonight,” Josh explained to Danny, entirely forgetting that Danny was supposed to guess who his Incognito Intoxicant was. “Live a little in the past, you know, let it take you back in time.” 

“Thank you?” Danny guessed. He wasn’t looking forward to drinking the greenish liquid, but he didn’t want Josh to know he was feeling disappointed. He tried to find the silver lining, reasoning to himself that it was an opportunity to try something new. Josh watched Danny’s face travel through a wide range of emotions as he studied the bottle, which was more than enough payoff for his prank. 

“I’ll go next,” Sam decided, growing impatient waiting for his turn. Before Jake or Josh could argue that they wanted to go next, Sam tore open the bag and let it drop to the paved ground so he could focus his attention on the label. “Hofbrau Munchen Hefeweizen?” He read aloud. “Did I pronounce that right?” Sam inspected the label closer and then retrieved his phone from his back pocket to translate the writing on the package. “Oh, light and fruity tones, I like the sound of that!” his face lit up. Danny attempted to maintain a poker face, but it was impossible for him not to grin a little. Sam scanned around at his brothers and, with a chuckle, pointed at Danny. “Thank you, Daniel.” 

With his cover blown, Danny finally let his smile fully stretch across his face. “How did you know it was me?” 

“Jake would have pissed in a bottle and given it to me,” Sam explained, “and I’m afraid of what Josh would have done.” 

“That’s an accurate assumption,” Jake nodded. 

“I thought the whole point of this was to get something the person would enjoy,” Danny tried to gain some clarity. 

“Oh no, that’s definitely not what I had in mind,” Josh shook his head with a laugh. He studied the paper bag in his hands and tugged it open, reaching his hand in to grab his bottle. “Oh Jesus,” he murmured as he studied the Stella Rosa Watermelon-flavored wine. Turning to Danny, he motioned at the bottle. “This is the kind of shit I’d expect to get. My Incognito Intoxicant obviously wants me to suffer.” He looked closer at the light pink liquid and gave it a small shake. “This is going to be sweet as a motherfucker. What am I supposed to pair this with?” 

“Watermelon, of course,” Jake deadpanned. Josh shook his head at his brother with a scowl, and then pointed at him. 

“You did this,” he accused. Jake’s hands retracted up in a defensive position and he was quick to shake his head. 

“My dignity couldn’t handle buying a bottle like that in public, even if it was for you.” 

“Sam?” Josh turned to face his younger brother. 

“Guilty,” Sam gave a mischievous grin. 

“You sick fuck,” Josh spat out, though he also had to give a chuckle. For what it was worth, Sam’s choice was especially sinister, which Josh did respect. 

“That leaves me then,” Jake grunted. The other three watched as he rolled down the paper bag to reveal only the top of the bottle and flicked the lid off. “Ahh,” he grunted out after taking a long, thoughtful chug from the mysterious liquid. “That’s the good shit.” 

“Hold on a second,” Danny thought hard. “I had Sam, Sam had Josh, and Josh had me. So that means…?” 

“Yup,” Jake finished Danny’s thought for him, “I treated myself to a nice drink for the evening.” 

“That’s not fair!” Sam protested. 

“Josh didn’t set any rules about it,” Jake shrugged. “Get over it.” 

Josh tried to get a better look at Jake’s drink. “What did you go with?”

“Cognac,” Jake replied after another drink. “I thought I’d switch it up tonight.” 

“Interesting,” Josh nodded. 

Danny checked the time on his phone and then motioned back at his car. 

“We’d better get a move on before people start showing up.” 

“Oh shit, right,” Sam said, turning on his heel to retreat to Danny’s car. 

“Great, I can’t wait to see what watermelon-flavored wine tastes like,” Josh sarcastically retorted while he and Jake walked in line behind Sam and Danny. 

“It’s gonna taste bad, I can tell you that,” Jake assured him. “But it should go down easy. Just chug it in the beginning and then it’ll be over.” 

“Nah, I think I’ll nurse it,” Josh decided. “I don’t want to be beyond inebriated and miss Danny’s reaction to the absinthe.” 

“Do you think he’s gonna hallucinate?” 

“You can hallucinate on absinthe?” Danny turned around to ask Jake and Josh, his eyes wide. 

“Oh boy,” Sam laughed. “We’re in for an interesting night.”

[josefavomjaaga]

Hello! To start out, I REALLY love your page! The detail put into your posts and responses are so fun and interesting to read. I especially love when you interpret quotes with, like, I guess “stage play” versions. They’re so funny.

So I wanted to ask something of you for the first time. I’ve been writing a story that takes place in the Napoleonic Wars era for a while now, so I’ve been doing a lot of research in that era (and a lot of that research is guided by your posts haha). There are several important characters who are supposed to be police in an 1805 French town, but I’ve been having trouble finding good info about them, like what those police wore, what they carried, what their responsibilities were, etc. I’m not even sure if they have like a police station kind of headquarters or something in 1805 France. If you have anything that’ll help me out just about those french police at the time, that would be much appreciated. So far, I’ve been drawing comics about them, but whenever a police shows up I just draw him in the normal napoleonic soldier uniform…although that’s probably not accurate. Thanks!

Well, first of all: Thank you! 💖 Truth be told, I often feel quite impertinent, mocking all these illustrious personalities, who have both achieved and gone through things I cannot even imagine. But sometimes I just can’t help it. Laughter is the weapon of those without power (and in my case, without merit). Plus, it renders all these grim warriors a lot more human, and, as far as I am concerned, more amiable.

As to your question – as I’ve said in the other Ask below, it’s quite easy to find the end of my knowledge 😁. That would be one of those cases.

I actually have read up a bit on the development of what we call police today, but only for German territories. But I presume developments in France were similar, with innovations usually starting a little earlier. The German word »polizey« originally was applied to all sort of public tasks, from the organisation of markets to cleaning of the streets. It was only during Napoleon’s time (and presumably under French influence) that the term was somewhat reduced to public security measures (but that still included, for example, firemen). When it came to crimes, it usually meant what we today would call a »secret police«, i.e., surveillance of the population rather than investigation of crimes already committed.

But investigation could be part of it. Napoleon’s famous minister of Police Joseph Fouché (that one has to be named first) is mostly known for his spy network and his detailed files on pretty much everybody who was somebody in France. But, for example, after the »infernal machine« asassination attempt his men did some excellent investigations and found the culprits within days. I do not know where in Paris the Ministry of Police was located.

One of the main task of the police was to look after foreigners in town and to issue passports, as in theory nobody was allowed to travel without one.

For Paris, the police headquarters was the Préfecture de Police. It still exists today, but I do not know if it’s still in the same location. The different arrondissements of the city all had their own chief of police, who answered to the préfecture. An interesting personality to look into more might be Jean-François Réal, a co-worker of Fouché and possibly more the kind of »policeman« as we understand the term today.

As to keeping up security in the capital, that was – I think! - at least to some degree also the job of the gouverneur de Paris (who commanded the military forces stationed in the city and for a very long time happened to be one Andoche Junot, so I hope maybe @snowv88 can either confirm or correct me 😊).

It is to be noted that Fouché’s (secret) police was not the only police under Napoleon’s rule. Actually, there were several police organisations all spying on each other. On top of that, the army units had their gens d’armes who kept order and investigated possible violations among or by soldiers.

From what I have read, outside of Paris the police may have been subject to the préfet of the départment, but I am not even entirely sure about that. There seem to have been »bureaux de police«, police offices, so some kind of headquarters for the local police agents must have existed.

And that, I fear, is already all I have. I very much hope for input from people with more knowledge, because now I’ve gotten interested and want to learn more myself.

Thank you for the question and all best wished for your stories! Please share whenever you feel like it!