#NOT TO THE POINT WHERE IT'S IMPOSSIBLE but the satisfaction you get when you FINALLY manage to beat that boss fight

[timedhoney]

Giving wonwoo hickeys would change my life. Straddling that tiny waist, leaning down as you bury your face into his warm neck. You watch as he squirms against you when your eyelashes brush along his blushed skin.

“Hi,” you murmur smoothly into his ear, just to feel his breath hitch in that gorgeous chest of his.

"Hi," he responds and you selfishly have to kiss those plump lips before you get back to the task at hand. Ok, maybe you have to slide in a little tongue too. You're not perfect. You love feeling how he reacts beneath you, love to feel how those large hands grip deeply into your thighs when you suck his bottom lip into your mouth. You know it drives him wild, and you wiggle your hips in satisfaction against the tent growing in his jeans.

God, what a man. How he manages to make an outfit with no more than a white shirt and pants have you to the point of drooling all over him, you have no idea. But when he walked into the door of your apartment, you immediately had to shove him onto your couch, pull his zipper halfway down, and then throw your legs over his. He looks picturesque in the way you've strewn him about, hair ruffled and jeans sliding down just enough to show a hit of muscle that makes you feel unholy things.

All that can wait though, because the spot just behind his ear is calling to you. You press your mouth there first before losing control and taking the tiniest nip just to watch the color flood up from his chest to his cheeks. What a beautiful gradient.

"You make it too easy, you know?" You say, smiling down at him as he brushes a piece of hair behind your ear, still flushed that cherry red. "One little bite and your'e going to act like this?" He nods shockingly fast, tipping his glasses down his nose with the action. You press them back up with your own nose, winking as you turn back to where you were. No distractions this time.

The noises that leave him always make it worth it. You take no prisoners when you pull at his skin, leaving obscene pops in your wake. You alternate between bites and licks, sucking and nipping. Only once you find the spot that creates the most delicious moan do you stop journeying, pressing your hips tightly into his. Feeling the heat start to radiate further off of him. Tasting the salt off his skin. Letting him writhe against you as you smile into the bite.

You look beneath you to admire your work.

"You're so lucky that I make pretty hickeys," you tell him smugly. And it's true, but maybe it's just that everything suits him. Beautiful blooms in varying shades of red and purple litter the left side of his neck. He groans as he slaps a hand over it.

"Ugh, did you have to go asymmetrical? It's going to be impossible to cover the one behind my ear with a turtleneck...." You laugh as you finally finish pulling down his zipper.

"I know you can't be mad when I just heard how you were behaving." He flips you onto your back on the couch and lifts up your shirt, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra.

"Mine are going to be prettier than yours," is his only reply as he leans down to leave open mouthed kisses to your tits before he begins rival your bruises with his own.

"I love when you get competitive," you sigh dreamily.

[zepskies]

Down to the Crust

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You’ve set out on a very specific mission for Dean. The problem is, you now have ulterior motives for your (formerly) pure love of baking.

Request: Since reading your imagine, "Dean Gives You an Impossible Choice," I have not been able to shake it, one point specifically. I was wondering if I could request a fic where the reader is learning to bake pies for Dean. She's best friends with the boys, but she and Dean have undisclosed feelings for each other…

AN: You guys know I love baking shenanigans lol. This one is set at a particular time during season 14…

Song Inspo: “Joy” by Blackstreet

Word Count: 2.6K

Tags/Warnings: Flangst, hurt/comfort, hint of spice~

No, no, no, no, NO!

You did your best to scoop out the salt you’d just poured into the flour.

You can’t really be this dumb, you berated yourself. How could you confuse one white powdery thing for another? Salt vs. sugar—it wasn’t that hard!

You shook your head in simmering frustration. You decided to just dump the whole contents of the bowl, salty flour and all, into the garbage. You’d have to start again…for the third time now. 

Frankly, this was getting ridiculous. You could make cookies, brownies, even cupcakes (with homemade buttercream).

How hard could a pie really be?

Maybe it was the telltale tremble of nerves in your hands.

Maybe it was because you had an ulterior motive for doing this, besides your formerly pure love of baking.

Maybe because this promised dessert was for one pie-loving glutton who was set to come upstairs from the garage any minute. Or at least, whenever Dean’s stomach finally called him back to the kitchen.

Though recently, he hadn’t been all that hungry. He’d denied your friendly offer of a snack earlier (since when did he turn down taquitos?), and he’d barely touched the pizza you guys had for dinner yesterday. (One slice? The man could eat half a pizza in one sitting. To your knowledge, there wasn’t a pie he didn’t like.)

Dean hid it well, but he wasn’t on his game. You knew why, of course, but…

You sighed and measured out the last of your flour for a fresh try. If you messed this one up, you’d literally have to wash your hands of this mission. And yes, it had become mission fucking impossible, as far as you were concerned.

Once the flour was safely mixed with a cup of sugar, you cut up some chilled butter to create the pastry dough. You followed the instructions in the recipe even more carefully this time, from your open laptop on the kitchen counter. The keyboard was dusted with flour at this point, along with your hands and arms. You even felt it under your nails and in your hair, but you didn’t care.

You were going to make this damn pie if it killed you.

You’d even bought real cherries, not the canned filling. It meant more work for you in removing all the pits inside them, but this was worth the extra labor.

However, as it just occurred to you, you’d left them simmering with some sugar, lemon juice, and cornstarch in a pan, around the time of your second attempt at pastry dough.

“No!” you gasped, hastening to open the lid and checking the saucepan.

Oh, thank God, you thought, seeing that the cherry filling wasn’t bubbling over. It actually looked like the proper thickened consistency and smelled delicious. You just needed to do some more stirring.

An hour or so later, you had successfully shaped the dough, chilled and poured in the filling, and covered it with the (embarrassingly uneven) lattice work on top.

“Whatever. The man still believes in the Five-Second Rule. He’ll eat this,” you muttered as you slid the pie in. You even remembered to do an egg wash on top. You admired it for a moment in its raw pastry form, then closed the lid to the oven with a nod of satisfaction.

You wore a wide smile, feeling accomplished, until you turned around and saw the disaster you’d made of the kitchen. Flour was dusted across the counters, a pile of dishes in the sink, cherry remnants in the pan and dripping across the stove, and so much more. You winced at the sight.

“What the hell is this?” came a gruff voice.

Your gaze drew to the doorway with a sharp intake of breath. Dean was standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a bewildered expression on his face.

The man had a thing about people in “his kitchen.” You got ready to placate him with your hands raised as you took a step towards him, but then you gasped.

“Shit!” you yelped, slipping in some egg that had dropped on the floor. Your hand accidentally banged the oven on the way down, but your head also hit the corner of the wall.   

You ended up sprawled on your side across the dirty floor, dazed and winded. Dean hurried to your side with one of those frowns that always made you want to smooth the wrinkle between his brows.

He braced your shoulder, almost but not quite touching your hip with his free hand.

“Damn. You okay? This ain’t a slip n’ slide,” he said.

Your lips twitched at a smile, but you sighed. “I’m okay.”

“You hit your head?” he asked, beginning to help you up slowly.

“A little,” you admitted. “Nothing the old bag of frozen carrots in the freezer won’t cure.”

Dean grimaced, but after he made sure you were settled on your feet, he checked the back of your head. You tried not to blush (and revel) at the feeling of his fingers slipping into your hair, even if he was trying to feel for a knot back there.

He was close enough that you could almost feel his body heat through the black shirt he wore, for once without the outer layer of plaid. He smelled like grease and sweat; likely he’d been working on Baby.

Were you weird for kind of liking that smell?

“Well, I don’t feel any goose eggs, so you’re probably fine,” he remarked.

“Thanks, House. Is that your final prognosis?” you asked, beginning to smirk.

Dean’s gaze met yours in amusement.

“Tell you what,” he said, “If you get a headache, I give you full permission to take one of the fun little pills I’ve got in my dresser.”

You laughed. “If it’s not Vicodin, I don’t want it.”

House M.D. was one of those shows you and Dean liked to watch together, along with Game of Thrones, and even Smallville, on occasion.

Dean smiled slightly. But even that was a small feat, and something you hadn’t seen from him in weeks. Not a real smile, anyway. Before today, nothing you’d tried had been working to brighten his mood.

Not pizza Fridays. Not letting him listen to the same damn Zeppelin album without complaint for that eight-hour ride on the last hunt. Not trying to gouge his level of broodiness and offering to hang out, to be a listening ear if he needed it.

He still hadn’t taken you up on the last one. While that hurt, you also understood it. You understood how Dean dealt with things he didn’t want to think about, let alone talk about, even to his own brother.  

Dean now looked down on you knowingly, gesturing at the rest of the kitchen.

“You gonna tell me what you’re doing in here?” he asked.

You crossed your arms and raised your chin, a smile playing on your lips.

“What, can’t handle somebody else in your kitchen? What’re you, Gordon Ramsey?” you teased.

Dean’s brows kicked up, his lips twitching.

“You’ve made a mess of my kitchen any number of times, but I ain’t ever smelled sweet, sweet cherry coming out of that oven,” he said. “You’re finally making me pie?”

You had to laugh. Inside, you were pleased that he now looked excited, his green eyes dancing. You clapped your hands over his arms.

“Yes, I’m making you your damn pie. Only took me fifteen tries, but it’s happening,” you said. You turned to check on it, but the second you opened the oven, black smoke billowed out.

Your eyes widened in horror and your mouth fell open on reflex, but harsh coughs tore from your throat as you waved your hand against the smoke. Dean quickly handed you the oven mitts, and you shoved them on before taking out the steaming dessert.

The entire top crust was scorched black. Cherry filling oozed out, and not in a good way. You slammed the oven shut with your hip, and you had to toss the pan onto the counter for how hot it was.

Inside that pan was a dreadful excuse for a pie.

Dean had an arm crossed under his elbow, while a hand came up to cover his mouth as he took in the state of it. He then looked over at you.

He saw the shock, settling into pursed lips and tight shoulders. You turned in slow movements.

You saw that the oven had been switched to “Broil” on the highest setting. You’d probably messed that up when you fell and hit the dial with your hand. But Christ, was that a powerful oven.

Those old white guys really didn't mess around when they built this damn bunker, you thought sourly.

Dean took another look at the steaming pie and grimaced, despite his amusement.

“Well, she won’t be entering any beauty pageants, that’s for sure,” he teased.

His playful smirk fell, however, the moment you turned around. He saw the way you were biting your lip, and the tears brimming in your eyes.

He softened, and he went to you.

“Aww, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he chuckled, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “‘S probably better than I could do.”

You rested your head against his chest and sniffled. You blinked to try to stem off your tears. 

“It’s not about the damn pie! I mean, not really. It’s just…” you trailed.

You quieted, realizing you were about to say things you’d rather not.

Dean noticed though. Because of course he did.

“Then what’s it about?” he asked.

You avoided his gaze at first, though he was too perceptive not to notice. He jostled you a little against his side.

“Huh? You wanna answer me?” he asked. His lips curved at the way you were fighting a smile yourself. Your tears won out though.

You turned under his arm and leaned up on your toes, so you could hug him. Your arms twined around his neck and you held him tight.

To say it surprised Dean would be an understatement, his eyes widening a fraction. He still held you back, almost on reflex.

“I couldn’t do anything else,” you said, through tears. “Not for you, or Sam…or for Mary.”

Dean’s confusion descended into grim understanding. A weight fell deep in his gut, clenching painfully the way it always did, when he thought about his mom.

The fact that Jack didn’t have his soul didn’t make a difference, no matter what Sam said. Not in Dean’s mind, anyway.

Jack had killed their mom.

She was gone, had been taken from them. And that second loss had torn a new chasm in Dean’s heart, deeper than the last one. He held you a bit tighter without realizing it.

“I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing his back. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to…to do something for you.”

Slowly, Dean pulled away a little. His hands moved to your waist as he looked down on you with a heaviness in his eyes. For a moment, he just took in the contours of your face, your eyes shining with tears that clung to your lashes. You were looking up at him like all you wanted to do was fix it. And fix him.

Well, you had to know that was a lost fucking cause. But it just didn’t stop you from staying here with him and Sam, living with them, hunting with them, being one of the last friends they had, after all these years.

It didn’t stop Dean from loving you for it, either.

He let out a breath, and he couldn’t help but raise a hand to get some of the flour off your cheek. He smoothed the back of his hand against your skin, along your jaw, and finally brushed his thumb across your lower lip, where you had worried it with your teeth.

“You’re too damn much, you know that?” he murmured.

You were blushing hot at his touch, but you frowned at his words. Until you noticed the fond glint in his eyes…and for the first time, something more. Something he was finally allowing you to see.

When he bent down and claimed your lips, your thoughts stuttered to a halt. You gripped the front of his shirt instinctively. He framed your face with his hands; they were calloused and smelled like motor oil, but you didn’t give a shit. Not one iota. Because it meant something, and your heart swelled with a warmer, brighter feeling.

You gripped his shirt tighter and leaned up to meet his second kiss. His hand moved to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You grabbed onto his shoulders and let him invade your mouth with his warm tongue slipping against yours. You moaned, the sound echoing between you both and shooting right to his dick.

His brows furrowing, Dean’s fingers slipped into your hair again, but this time, to tangle in the strands. He walked you back until your ass hit the counter, where he grabbed hold of your thighs and hefted you on top of it, regardless of whatever stains covered its surface.

He moved in between your jean-clad thighs and encouraged you wordlessly to wrap them around his hips. You didn’t need much encouragement.

“Dean,” you whispered, between heated kisses, hands wandering down your body, exploring soft curves and warmth over clothing.

“Hmm?” he said, into your mouth. It was distracting, but you found the strength to slow things down, gently taking his face into your hands.

You both caught your breath for a moment. It allowed Dean to see the thread of uncertainty in your gaze, even though you caressed his stubble-covered cheeks.

“I just…do you…is this…” you tried, but your brain seemed to be on a short fuse. You blamed his sinful lips entirely.

Said lips drew into a smirk. Dean’s hands moved up your thighs and held your waist less gripping, more comforting (and claiming).

“I really do, and damn straight it is,” he said, slightly teasing. He did lean back in to press a gentler kiss to your lips.

“Trust me,” he said, as he became more serious. “If you want more from this…”

At that, your uncertainty melted into warmth. You released his face, holding onto his shoulders instead.

“Yeah, Dean,” you nodded. “More than anything, yes.”

He read your sincerity, and it warmed him too. Again, he gave into the urge to brush his thumb against your blushing cheek.

“I uh…I had a feeling it was always gonna be you,” he said.

You raised a brow at that, even though your smile threatened to unravel him further.

“Oh, yeah? How long?” you asked.

Dean pretended to think.

“Since that first batch of oatmeal cream pies,” he said, with a cheeky grin. “Pretty sure I was marked from there on out.”

And not just because he’d been imagining what you’d be like to taste, ever since.

You giggled, though you gestured with your eyes at the charred pan next to you on the counter.

“Guess I should try again on that pie. Wonder what that’ll get me,” you hedged, letting your thumb graze his neck. Dean smirked.

“All right, sure. Remind me to pick up a new fire extinguisher,” he said.

You guffawed and hit his shoulder, but he just laughed and pulled you in for another kiss.

It was sweet enough on its own.

AN: I know, I know. I'm a sap. 😂 Let me know what you thought of this pie-filled episode! 🥧 💕

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma

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@candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester

@chernayawidow @mimaria420 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse

[bandgie]

Bath Time

bf!Changbin x gn!reader

MDNI 18+, handjob, elements of sub!bin, nipple/boob play (m!), fluff, this is totally self indulgent!

1k words

With Changbin's back to you, it's easy to wash and rinse the soap from his head. Your senses are filled with the feeling of warm water on your hands and the smell of scented soap. You told him that you wanted to give him a spa day, something to help relax your busy boyfriend from his idol life. 

Your boyfriend's skin is soft under your touch and your hands travel down to his shoulders where you dig your fingers in. Changbin whines from the massage at first, a protest from his stiff muscles. You lighten your touch and add pressure to the area between his shoulder blades. It's from his continued hard work that he was able to grow such broad muscles. Your hands feel so small against it, and you doubt you're making any real difference in his stress. 

That's proven wrong from Changbin's groans though. He gently rocks in the tub from your ministrations, the water sloshing quietly. A particular loud sound from him has you laughing, "Does it feel good Bin?"

Maybe it's the heat of the bath, or the overwhelming smell of lavender, but Changbin shivers at your words. It was so innocently said, but he can feel the way his lower half twitched, pulsated. Everything you do feels good to him, and you saying it only adds to the pleasure.

"Y-yes," he stutters. 

You hum in response, but the vibrations in your chest echo in his mind. Changbin tries to think of every disgusting thing he can to prevent himself from getting hard, but it's nearly impossible. All he can focus on is your delicate fingers, the fact that he's completely nude and wet, how the front of your shirt is drenched to the point that he can see the outline of your chest. When your hands move to the front of his shoulders, he knows he's screwed. 

You lean over Changbin to properly massage the top of his pecs, but a mere glance at the water has you halt. Even though his figure is deformed underneath, you can still make out the standing of his cock.

There's a small scoff of disbelief that leaves you and when you turn to Changbin, he's already a pretty shade of pink. 

"Looks like someone's happy to see me," you muse. One of your hands runs against the softness of his stomach underwater, stopping just above his pelvis. "I thought you were being a little too quiet."

Your other hand gropes his pec, squeezing the flesh rather than massaging it. Changbin whines at the pressure, hips thrusting upwards. "I didn't mean to!" There's a small frown on his face, but his eyes are wide with desire. "How can you expect me to not when you're touching me like that!?"

His complaining only stirs you more, pinching his hardened nipple between your fingers. You pull and tug on his bud, watching how his back arches. Your other hand goes back up to grope both of his pecs. You squeeze them in your palms, kneading the flesh. 

"What about Jut and Dae hm?" You jiggle them for emphasis. "Are they happy to see me?"

There's red marks from your fingers on his chest, but the look on Changbin's face is far from painful. He nods eagerly, licking his lower lip. "They are! They're always happy to see you."

He can feel how your chest purrs in satisfaction. Changbin nearly squeals in excitement when your hand finally goes down to his cock, gently gripping the base. You play with him between your fingers, running the tip over your thumb before going further to play with his balls. 

"Such a nasty boy," you tut playfully. "Gonna makes the water all dirty."

As if in punishment, you squeeze his balls in your gasp. A gasp leaves Changbin's lips when you move your hand to drag the skin of his cock down to expose his throbbing head. You twist your hand as you move upwards with slow jerking movements. Your other hand never ceases from gripping his chest. 

The water begins to move rather rapidly from Changbin's movements. He's humping into your hands eagerly. One hand planted at the bottom of the tub for balance while the other grips your wrist playing with his nipple. He turns to look at you, lips pouty and shiny form how much he's been licking them.

You know what he wants and you want to deny him from it. A kiss is what makes your boyfriend cum the hardest. You would love to deprive him from it just a bit longer, but the whole reason for you doing this is to make him feel good. In any way possible. 

It's with tenderness that you kiss Changbin with. He melts at the feel of your lips, moaning into your mouth. Your hand rapidly moves underneath the water, stroking him with quick, tight pulls. He gives up on using his lips and shoves his tongue in your mouth. Both of your salvias mix, and you find yourself giggling. 

"Impatient," you mumble in the kiss. Changbin only whines in response, upset that you're talking instead of kissing him. You let your lover ravish your mouth, teeth clashing from his neediness. 

He squeezes your wrist hard suddenly, mouth going slack and eyes crossing. "Cumming! Don't stop, please."

You squeeze the softness of his chest harshly and the tip of his cock. Changbin makes a choked sound, but muffles it with a messy kiss. He jerks his hips upwards to meet your strokes, and even in the water you can feel his cock twitch when he releases. 

A part of you is disappointed that you can't feel his cum run down your fingers, that you can't smear it on his belly before shoving your fingers in his mouth. Instead, you watch the strings of arousal float to the top before diluting into the water. 

Changbin pants in your mouth, convulsing in the aftershocks of his orgasm. You coo at him and give consecutive pecks to his swollen lips. He puckers his lips to properly feel your kisses, but you can see the drowsiness in his eyes quickly catch up to him.

"Oh Binnie. Don't fall asleep yet! We need to take another shower, you got this one dirty."

a/n: I thought about doing this with Chan at first, but binnie's boobies were infiltrating my mind border from @roseschoices!

[seventeencryinghorses-blog]

Tbh I had this already written. Poll had the shortest time as a day. HELLA warning though, this isn't non or dub con but it IS gorey. I wrote this shit at like 11pm and I was stressed the hell out and kinda pissed. (well the outline of it anyway). I'm a gore enjoyer, not in a weird way I just like the way it's written or drawn i don't like actual gore. Anyway the gore here isn't that bad but there is some so I'll say there is gore as a warning. I also put a small border for the people that don't wanna read the smut since there is some story.

The Cute and Obsessive You

Yandere Shanks x Male reader. Reader matches Shanks's freak. Smut so minors read something else until I write not smut. top male reader. Violence warning. 4,135ish words.

Your boyfriend is very cute, you know that of course, you also know that he gets just a little worried when you’re out of his sight. That’s why when you opened your eyes to an unfamiliar place, tied to a chair, your first thought before worrying for yourself was ‘Oh no, I hope my boyfriend is gonna be okay.’ and you were correct in your worry, because Shanks is not okay.

“(Y/n)!?” Shanks calls out as he searches around for you. “(Y/n)!” He calls out, his heart racing. Where are you? Did you run away? Finally getting tired of him and leaving? How could you do that to him, when he cares about you so so much!? He gave you everything! Something clicks, what if you were gone unwillingly? What if someone took you. Took you from him? “(Y/N)! Sweetie, please come out if you’re somewhere around here!” He’s been searching for a while now, feeling stupid. Of course you wouldn’t leave him, you loved him, but he had thought this island was safe. Shanks had taken his eyes off of you, busy with the townsfolk swarming him. He hadn’t been to this island in a long while so they were excited to see him, and you had told Shanks you were going to explore nearby. Shanks trusted that. Trusted that this island that was friendly to him would be friendly to you, there should’ve been no danger to you. That’s not to mention you weren’t weak either, but people don’t always get what they want by being strong. A pretty looking flower is what it took, you’d been interested in the local flora so you went to check it out. It was only when you took a closer look that you realized it looked unusual, by then it was already too late. The fake flower had let out a gas and knocked you out. Now here you were, in a place unfamiliar to you.

“Hello?” You call out, but there’s no answer. Your weapon has been taken, but they’ve made a mistake, not finding the knife that you keep on you for emergencies. That means you could cut yourself free… but what then? You don’t know where you are and the door is locked, and to be honest.. you’re a little curious. You don’t feel like you’re in any real danger, and Shanks is probably going to find you eventually. The thought of him finding you, desperate to see you with a crazed look, fills you with satisfaction; so you wait. Eventually a woman comes down from the stairs and enters the room holding a long blade.

“Hello.” She greets you. “You’re lucid, good. Do you know why I’m doing this?” You think for a moment, Shanks had said this place was friendly so you’re not sure, but she answers the question for you. “I’ll just answer anyway. I did this because you bother our chief, clinging to him like a leech. You’re not nearly as strong as him or the rest of his crew, I even managed to kidnap you with some fake flower. It’s dangerous for him to have someone by his side, especially someone so weak. He’d be better off without you.” Her words sting a little, she has somewhat of a point. If it weren’t for the fact that it might be impossible to leave Shanks this could’ve even convinced you to.

‘Wow.. my cute and obsessive boyfriend knows some people that act similar to him.’ You think to yourself as she points the knife to your neck, pricking you. ‘Uh oh.’ This got much more dangerous quickly. Meanwhile, Shanks is still searching for you, finally finding flattened grass where it looks like someone was dragged.

‘He didn’t run away!’ Shanks is almost relieved before he realizes you being kidnapped and in danger isn’t much better. He clenches his jaw and quickly follows the flattened grass to a cottage in the woods, entering and looking around. “I don’t have time for this.” He mumbles to himself and decides to destroy everything until he finds you, crashing things to the floor and breaking through walls to find his lover. You hear the sounds above you and try to yell out, but your mouth is quickly covered by the woman. You take a deep breath and instead tip over your own chair and let yourself slam to the ground. The sound alerts Shanks and he looks down, realizing there's a room underneath this cottage. He needs to get to you, that thought sticks to his mind until he breaks a hole into the floor and drops into the room with you and the woman; though there was an entrance he could’ve found had he looked a little longer.

“C-Chief!” The woman stutters, panicked. “You, I-I” She doesn’t know what to say, turning silent when she looks at Shanks and finds someone she doesn’t recognize. Someone unlike the kind person she’s been doing this for. Crazed eyes look from her to your fallen and tied up form.

“Baby, are you okay?” He goes to you, ignoring her.

“I’m alright, just tipped my chair over.” You reassure him and he’s about to sigh in relief when he catches sight of something. Blood on your neck from the prick she had given you earlier. Blood, your blood. His vision quickly goes red and he grabs her, slamming her onto the ground.

“Chief, please let me exp- AAHH!” Her words are interrupted by a scream of pain when he stomps on her arm, shattering it. She starts to cry but it’s too late, he’s seen your injury and the blood you’ve shed is worth more than she could ever be.

“How dare you, how dare you. Mine, You hurt my boyfriend. My boyfriend.” His voice is laced with rage as she cries, screaming as he stomps on her limbs. Hands, arms, legs, it’s not long until they’re reduced to a mess of flesh and bone stuck to her by her skin.

“sorry sorry ‘m sorry it hurts.” She can’t even struggle, having screamed too much already. You stare at this, then try to move out of your restraints. Pain shoots up your leg.

“Ow!” You yelp and Shanks turns to look back at you, anger replaced by worry. “I’m okay! I think I just twisted my ankle a little when I fell.” You explain, feeling a little embarrassed you yelped over such a small injury. He looks back at the woman and she realizes, in her final moments, that you were so much more than she could’ve comprehended. Shanks grabs her by the hair and slams her head into the wall, creating a crater with the impact. What’s left of her head splatters across the concrete, and he drops her crushed corpse to the ground with a thud. He can hear the blood rushing through his ears, only snapping out of it when he hears your voice. “Shanks!” The redhead turns back to you, walking over and crouching down.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I let you out of my sight and doubted you when you were stuck here. This is my fault-” He starts but you interrupt him.

“Shanks you’re very lovely like this but please untie me first.” You ask him and his eyes clear.

“R-Right. Sorry.” He quickly cuts the ropes with his sword and you stand while rubbing your wrists. Once you’re both standing he starts to shake, emotions filling his psyche. Anger for the ones that hurt you, guilt he let this happen, sadness you got hurt, relief you’re still alive. They swim in his head, crowding and messing with his mind. You notice this and pull him into a soft hug

“It’s okay~ It’s okay~” Your fingers run through his red hair, ignoring the blood mixing in. “I’m okay, I’m alive and safe. You didn’t fail me, I’m right here.” He clings to you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.. I’m so happy you're safe.” He says, burying his face in your shoulder. Shanks still feels guilty, but his emotions calm with you in his grasp. You feel him clutch onto you tighter and you can tell his anger is coming back now that his emotions are more sorted.

“It’s not the townspeople’s fault, honey.” You tell him, sensing his thoughts.

“They let this happen to you.” His voice is cold. This is their fault, they don’t deserve his help or his protection. They don’t even deserve their lives.

“Not all of them could’ve known.” You respond and he doesn’t answer. You sigh and pull him back enough to look into his clouded eyes. “Let's do this, we can go back into town, find out who helped this happen, and you can punish them. Okay?” He stares at you, considering what you said, then nods. “Good, thank you for understanding.” You give him a kiss on the cheek.

You and Shanks walk through the town, ignoring the horrified looks of townspeople seeing him covered in blood. Once you’re to the town square he yells out. “Everyone gather up!” They begin to gather in front of him while the Red Haired crew puts any children inside. They don’t need to see this. Shanks’s eyes scan the crowd until they finally land on a married couple, a wife and husband; they look guilty. Unlike the others who are scared and/or confused they look visibly jittery, as if they’ve done something wrong. What's more, when they meet your eyes they look away, as if from shame. ‘It’s them, they did this, they helped this happen.’ He walks over and stops directly in front of them, staring them down as they start to tremble. “You two have done something.” He says and they flinch. Some townsfolk try to ask Shanks what’s happening but Beckman and the others are smart, quickly leading the rest back inside so they don’t see their chief do this; or get caught in the crossfire. The couple try to deny it at first but eventually the wife breaks and starts to cry.

“Chief I’m sorry, I didn’t know she would go this far. We did this because we were worried about you.” She pleads with him and he stares at her.

“Worry? Worry!? You think your worry for me is enough of an excuse to do this? To harm what’s mine? No no no this isn’t how you’re going to escape responsibility.” Shanks is angry, angry that the town he trusted could do something so deplorable as causing harm to his boyfriend. He looks down at her with disgust and grabs her by the collar of her shirt. “You put your hands, your disgusting hands on my everything while I spent my time entertaining this town.” He moves his hand so it’s wrapped around her neck, gripping it firmly. "Was it amusing seeing me smile with you all, oblivious, while your friend was about to kill the love of my life?" She cries out and tries to struggle but it’s no use, he’s too strong; even as those struggles turn to scratches from his tightening grip, she's unable to make him budge as her vision goes dark.

SNAP

Shanks drops her lifeless body to the ground, red eyes trailing to the husband. He looks at the body of his wife, dead, and tears roll down his cheeks slowly. “Oh gods, please, chief please. I’m sorry.” His pleas are weak and useless as Shanks’s eyes bore into his. This is it, he can’t do anything. Even if he tried to run away he knows it’s futile, he wouldn’t even make it a step. His only hope is you, turning his head to look at you. You meet his eyes and give him a nervous laugh.

“Well it is kinda your fault, right?” You say sheepishly and his hope is gone, looking back to Shanks.

“Don’t look to him for help, you don’t deserve it.” The redhead states coldly and the husband closes his eyes, the world going black as Shanks cuts his head off of his shoulders. It rolls pathetically on the ground, and he stomps on it for good measure. The two previously pleading people full of life now reduced to lumps of soulless flesh. Shanks stares at what’s left of them, emotions still raging. It's unhealthy, you know that. This look of his is dangerous, the proof and symptom of his instability, but to you it's so so beautiful. The eyes of the kind, friendly, and lively red haired captain everyone knows are unlike everything about him. They're obsessive, crazed, uncaring, the light in his irises replaced by the unhealthy darkness you bring out of him. So beautiful.

“Shanks.” You call out and he quickly snaps his head to you, chest heaving with emotion. “You’re so cute like this.” You can’t help it, your crazy yandere boyfriend is so endearing when he’s obsessive like this. His face flushes slightly, caught off guard by the sudden compliment despite the gore around him.

“Really? Cute? N-Now??” He asks, he wouldn’t have been shocked if he turned to see you looking at him with disgust, disappointment, or even fear; but instead you look at him with your cheery and warm expression, nodding.

“Mhm!” You walk over to him and cup his face. “You were worried about me, right? I’m okay now, you saved me and punished the bad guys.” At that his shoulders finally untense, his sanity slowly coming back.

“Of course I was worried, I couldn’t bear the idea of anything happening to you.” Shanks says, letting out a held breath as his expression softens. He leans into your touch and closes his eyes for a moment before opening them to look at you. The brown of his eyes are replaced with red, his pupils dilated. You love it, the unsettling look in his eyes is so nice to see; even when they change back to brown. Like this, the crew in the background see their friendly captain as his yandere self, and his cheerful boyfriend who turned out not normal either. The captain can feel their gazes on him, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is you, you you you. The you that’s in front of him, touching him, loving him, the you that’s safe.

“Your eyes are creepy like this, y’know.” You say and place a kiss on his forehead, making him sigh in contentment.

“Creepy huh? That’s one way to describe em… Do you like it?” He asks, a bit insecure.

“And if I don’t? What’re you gonna do then?” You respond and Shanks’s heart sinks at the thought of you not liking anything about him. He loves you too much, he wants you to feel the same. He looks into your eyes, trying to gauge how serious you’re being. When he can't tell he speaks with hesitance.

“I’d.. change them.. I don’t want you to dislike any part about me.” Is his respnse. You hum, kissing his cheek.

“Hmm~ How would you change them?” You continue the question and Shanks tries to think through the chaos in his head, almost tempted to say he’d rip them out for you but managing to think more rationally.

“Colored contacts.. or try to appear less obsessive. Tone it down a bit.” He seems a little sullen talking about it, the idea that he would have to change himself for you is bumming him out; even if he would do it. You can tell he's unhappy, letting it go.

“That sounds like a hassle. It’s good I like them then!” You say and a weight is lifted off of his heart, your words always have so much effect on him. “I like everything about my crazy and cute boyfriend.”

“Good, because this crazy and cute boyfriend of yours loves you. A lot.” He speaks with a sigh, wrapping his arm around you to pull you into a tight hug.

“Mhm~ I love you too.” You rub his back as he buries his face into your shoulder and inhales, relishing in your scent.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. I love you. I love you.” He murmurs into your shoulder, muffled by your skin as you soothe him through his love confessions. He doesn’t even notice he’s getting blood on you. "You mean everything to me. You're the light in my darkness, the reason I keep going. I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you, I couldn't bear it. I love you more than anything in the world." His hand moves up to thread through your hair. "I love you so much. Never leave me." His voice is almost pleading at this point.

“Shh.. I’m never gonna leave you. You’re the only one for me, you’re my crazy and cute boyfriend. Look at me.” You tell him and he pulls back enough to look at you. “Hi honey~ I love you~” His expression falters, his heart warming. He’s still affected by what's happened but he’s here looking at you, and that makes everything feel better.

“I love you too.” Shanks kisses your palm. His voice is soft now, but still laced with a possessiveness that makes your own heart feel full “I’m looking at you too and I love you too” So happy, and just from being with you. You run your fingers through his red hair, scratching his scalp lightly, and his eyes close from bliss as he lets out a small content hum. When you use both hands a small shiver runs up his spine from your touch and attention. Can’t help it, too enamored with you.

××××××××××××××

“You’re so adorable.” You say and kiss him, feeling the way he melts into it. So pliable for you, and the slight jolt he gives when you roll your hips against his is satisfying to feel. ‘So reactive too’ you think to yourself as he lets out a small moan, trying to hold in another as you continue. It's to no avail, giving you the chance to slip your tongue into his mouth. Shanks hums, the both of you making out in front of the two corpses of the people Shanks killed for you. Oh and is it all for you, he doesn't even remember them right now. Your hands go to his hips and pick him up, walking a few feet away before laying him gently down onto the grass. He looks up at you, eyes foggy with lust and confusion.

“(Y/n)?” He asks and you wrap his legs around your waist, grinding your dick directly against him, causing him to curse with a moan.

“Sorry, my obsessive boyfriend was too sexy while protecting me.” You say as he pants underneath you, his face flushing. The crew, forgotten, slowly make their leave.

“You think I’m sexy? Even like this?” He asks you, not understanding how you can look at him with such caring lust when he just committed such a vile act. Even if it was for you, he didn’t need to make the deaths as gory as he did.

“Of course! My boyfriend is the cutest and sexiest in the whole world!” You say it as if it’s fact and it sends a shock of happiness and pleasure through Shanks’s body.

“In the world..” He mutters and you nod.

“Yup~” You’re pleased seeing him like this, and your hand goes to slide under his shirt, making him flinch. “The whole world~” Your hand slides up to his chest along with the fabric, showing his bare torso to you as his back arches slightly to follow your touch.

“B-Baby.” He tries to speak but it comes out as a whisper as you run your hand along his chest, stopping at one of his pecs to squeeze. “(Y/N)!” His back arches more and you lovingly circle a finger around his nipple, tapping it with the pad of your finger as he lets out soft gasps. “Fuck...” You’re teasing him, but he’s just too cute not to tease. Alas, you won’t keep him waiting, especially when the captain has been so good for you. You press the pad of your finger onto his nipple and he lets out a breath, your other hand moving to his chest as well as you grope and fondle both of his pecs. He loves it, you can feel it from the way he hardens against you and hear it from the grunts escaping his lips. His chest is nice, big, muscular, reminders of his strength along with the few scars that run along his body. You lean down and kiss one of them before flicking your tongue onto one of his nipples, earning a cuss from above. He grips onto your hair, blood coating your locks as you bite and suck his chest, moving from one pec to another; but never leaving one unattended with the help of your hands. You wonder for a moment if he could cum just from this, but you’ll leave that for another day, taking your mouth off of him with a lewd pop. The sound makes Shanks’s breath shaky. You sit up and look down at him.

‘So beautiful..’ You think to yourself when you see your boyfriend. Covered in the blood of townspeople he slaughtered in your name, eyes cloudy with lust, and shirt lifted up with perked up nipples. “My sexy honey is so sensitive, even when near the corpses of people he’s killed.” You grind against him and he grunts. “Do you care? Should I stop so I can take you somewhere else?” You ask him and Shanks struggles to form a coherent thought, mind clouded by you.

"No.” He starts, his voice shaky. “I don’t care about the bodies, I want you, I need you.” He responds, needy.

“Awweee~” You coo to him and lift his hips up, sliding his pants away enough to expose himself to you. You put your fingers to his mouth and he parts his lips to wet them. “You’re so good for me, my perfect boyfriend~” You praise and he lets out a small happy whimper, his heart racing. He always gets like this when you’re more dominant, sometimes it’s the only way to get him to calm down. Of course, that’s not why you’re doing it right now.

“Hahh.. hahh..” He pants and then gasps when you slip a finger inside him, something about his unstable emotions right now is making him more reactive. Maybe it’s the adrenaline or the relief of knowing you're safe, maybe both.

“I love you Shanks.” You say while putting another inside, relishing in how he squeezes around the digits. “Do you love me too?”

“Yes yes I love you I love you. Please, I need you.” He says, voice strained as you stretch him out.

“Are you sure? I get a little insecure sometimes.” You pull your fingers out and tug down your own bottoms, grabbing your dick to rub the tip around his entrance.

“Fuck.. I-” He’s interrupted by his own long whine as you press into him slowly, his head going foggy until you give him a smooch. “I love you, I love you more than anything, you’re my love- Ah~!” you start to move. “You’re everything to me can’t live without you I love you so much it hurts but feels so goOD~!” You lift his hips up to slam into his prostate, making his eyes roll back as he pants and groans.

“Good boy I love you too, you're doing so good for me~" You praise while bullying his prostate, Shanks’s mind going numb.

“I love you more than anything and everything I love you more than treasures or air or breathing or- ah~! or even myself~! I need you you’re my home and purpose my love and the blood flowing through my veins!” He’s happy, he’s happy you love him and he gets to say everything he wants to without worrying about your disgust. “You’re the reason I get up in the morning and the last thing I think of when I go to sleep-” He rambles as tears prick at his eyes from pleasure “m-my life and my purpose. I want to spend every second with you, I would give up everything for you. I love your voice and your laugh and your skin your hair your fingers and the way you feel i-inside me~!” His back arches, he’s close. “I can’t hold back any- ah~! longer!”

You kiss his neck, sucking marks into the skin. “It’s okay, you don’t have to hold back. Let everything out.” With that, he opens his mouth and lets out a loud keen as he cums.

“You’re all mine you’re m-mine! No- nngh~! one else’s mine mine~!” He rambles absentmindedly as you fuck him through his orgasm, repeating posessive words before you slam into him as much as you can and coat his insides. He whines, aftershocks continuing as your dick throbs inside of him with each burst. Once you've emptied you lean down and nuzzle his cheek affectionately before kissing him.

“You’re right. I’m yours and no one else’s. I’m never gonna leave you, because you’re my boyfriend and I love you.” Your words of confession make his heart feel full. He can’t think about anything other than you, that he’ll never let you go. His legs wrap around you and pull you into another kiss, happy. You’ll clean up in a bit, you’re still in public after all and the townspeople can’t be inside forever; but for you’ll indulge your cute and obsessive honey. Just because you love him so much.

There you have it. As for the Jealous reader x Shanks that's still gonna happen, the poll was just to choose which one I focused on first. I still do whatever by the way, I'm not gonna become smut focused or anything.

[taintedtort]

prompt ✧ how long they last during NNN

characters ✧ albedo, kazuha, scaramouche, xiao, childe, itto

warnings ✧ gn!reader, suggestive, no nut november

authors note ✧ i know november is over already, and i didn’t plan on actually writing this prompt… but i caved. it’s a tad late but that’s ok

ALBEDO

✧ lasts 2 weeks. he’s usually busy with experiments, so when kaeya suggested this idiotic game to him, he reluctantly agreed. he had a feeling it wouldn’t be difficult at all for him, seeing as he’s artificial and doesn’t fully comprehend or have human emotions. but he was proven wrong. the first two weeks were fine, he stayed occupied like normal while still giving you the soft attention you needed. but on the two week mark, you were both getting ready for bed and it suddenly hit him. his mind was unoccupied with work matters and simply just took over with thoughts of you. you and your cute, slightly revealing pajamas. you and your soft lips. you and your beautiful moans as he pleasured you beyond satisfaction. he lost the challenge that night,

“such a tease… did you do that intentionally?”

KAZUHA

✧ 4 days. kazuha is a true romantic, and part of that romance comes intimacy. it’s a big thing for him and he can’t go without it for very long. he did try though, he knew the other crew members who forced him to participate would make fun of him for only lasting a simple four days. he’d never live it down. but god he just couldn’t help himself, everything you did unintentionally turned him on. and it was all your fault for looking and sounding so cute when you called his name, innocently requesting his attention. he couldn’t help the plagued thoughts of you underneath him, calling out his name as he made you see stars.

“you were tempting me, i just couldn’t help myself.”

SCARAMOUCHE

✧ the entire month. out of sheer will and spite, he’d be determined to throw his victory in childe’s face. he only agreed after a lot of name calling and teasing, but he’ll be damned if he looses. then again, he’s so extremely clingy in private, he cannot keep his hands off you. and you had needs of your own! he couldn’t just take away that valued part of your relationship for an entire month! you’d intentionally tease and poke at him, begging for him to pay attention to your needs for at least one night. but again, he’s spiteful so he refuses. once december hits (he stays up till 12:00am to watch the date change) he’s on top of you and stripping your clothes off.

“times up, come here.”

XIAO

✧ 3 days. he tried to make it to five, but ultimately failed. it honestly just wasn’t a lucky day. he’d gotten back early from slaying demons, something that doesn’t often happen, and he wanted to spend some time with you. usually when he has off time, you two end up fucking. but with the challenge at hand, he tried not to. he really did, but just couldn’t help himself. everything about you was so inviting; your alluring eyes, your plump lips, your divine body, your seductive voice. it was impossible to ignore you.

“you’re so beautiful, i can’t hold myself back.”

CHILDE

✧ 3 weeks. god it was absolute torture for both of you. after the first week, everything you did got him worked up. it got to the point where he couldn’t touch you without getting hard. he was determined to win though, knowing scaramouche felt the same way. after making such a fuss about his friend being “too scared” and “having no self control” he knew he couldn’t loose. that victory would be so sweet. but alas… his dick just couldn’t take it, and the lack of affection you two were not receiving got to the both of your heads. you ended up having multiple rounds.

“fuck— i can’t do this anymore.”

ITTO

✧ less than a day. when he accepted the challenge, he was so sure he’d win. “easy breezy!” he said, completely confident. that was until… the two of you were finally alone. once you kissed his mouth after stepping inside your shared house, he couldn’t help it. his usual roaming hands were just as shameless as always. when it started to get a bit too heated you pulled back, asking about the challenge. he was confused at first, completely forgetting he had agreed, then just shrugged and continued.

“i won’t tell if you won’t.”

[asterythm]

on the ending of in stars and time:

an essay from someone who couldn’t sit with it at first, & a love letter to the fic that brought me here anyway. (…spoiler warning for in stars and time, naturally, but you knew that!)

if siffrin isat has taught me one thing it's that vulnerability is cool, actually, and being forthcoming and generous with love when there is love to be shared is how the coolest kids do it.

so. hello isat nation of tumblr dot com. i'm here because even after cutting out several chunks to shorten this significantly, i busted through the ao3 comment section character limit and still had more to say, so i needed somewhere to put it all that would let me go longer.

i’m pretty sure this post is for, like, three people, one of whom is me. but look, it’s been moved here to the webbed site so if you wanna read it anyway i won’t stop you!

=====

i think what it is, ultimately, is this: the ISAT canon ending was beautiful. it was an objectively well-written ending with so much love and hope and thematic satisfaction.

it also left me, for a period, with a deep and unshakeable sense of dread.

:)!!!!

now enter @faedemon's "None Forward & Two, Two, Two Steps Back" (hiya, fancy seeing you here), a two-chapter alt act 5 in which siffrin finds a New, Worse way to break the loops.

despite being, as mentioned, a notably worse outcome for everyone involved, this alt end managed to cut straight to the heart of that dread and settle it — and not in the sense of "oh, i like this alt ending better", or “oh, the canon ending looks better in comparison against this worse alt ending”, so much as "oh, thanks to this alt ending i am finally able to sit in a place where it no longer feels like the canon ending, as a beautiful outcome which felt impossibly lucky to get, is the only outcome in which life can go on — and my ability to accept it, and the game as a whole, is elevated for it."

which!! i mean!! i don’t know that that’s exactly what you set out to do; None Forward is explicitly a tragedy!! and one, as your tags say, written because the canon ending didn't ring true for you.

but I realized that the thing that was stopping me from enjoying ISAT’s canon ending was that ugly hard core that was still so, so scared after the canon ending of every way we (that is, siffrin + i as the player moving in that incredible ludonarrative lockstep with him, holy moly the harmony in this game) had not yet grown to earn it. 

=====

(I’ll take a sec here under the cut to say that when I played ISAT, and then for much of the month that followed, my main reason for engaging with it and its related content at all was that it was a piece of media that came fervently recommended by my incredibly dear friend @iconocat , who it had massively, violently impacted and whose media recommendations in general I trust more than anything.

so i played ISAT, and it was incredible. but even though it's a piece of media that just about hit on every point on my list of Things That Set My Brain On Fire, it failed somehow to. well. set me on fire — at least to the extent I was expecting it to. I still enjoyed myself in the few weeks afterwards of running through fan content and intentionally plunging myself into media analysis, but I was never convinced that I would be engaging with ISAT to the extent I was if it wasn't for the sake of trying to intentionally hack my brain to the point where I could share with my friend something so important to her at the same level of genuine investment. 

I’m telling you all this because, legitimately the same night I posted “nothing but a dull ache” (ie, if you're not charlie faedemon and are somehow caring to read this anyway, the epilogue oneshot I started feverishly writing the morning after reading None Forward), I realized through my rambling in my friend’s discord dms that reading None Forward was the moment the fire finally caught. I spent a month burying myself in ISAT content and asking myself “Is this natural yet?”. after None Forward, the answer to that question finally became a sure, wholehearted yes.)

=====

so anyway, back to the essay.

don't get me wrong. it's really, really nice, to read a story where the moral is less “you should have asked for help", and more “there are people who will unselfishly give the gift of a love that saves even when you cannot save yourself".

but that whole ending also was only able to happen because 1. they broke in a way no one should ever have to break, and 2. everyone involved got lucky.

which, in media, happens all the time!! it is not inherently dissatisfying for a narrative to wrap by saving you with luck and love in the nick of time!! in fact it should be incredibly satisfying, after the unambiguously-negative downward spiral into Director Siffrin who had begun to learn what to say and do to make his family behave exactly the way he needs them to, for a stroke of unpredictable luck brought about by factors entirely out of his control to finally be what sets him free.

but like... I think it's because the story is set in a situation where it's no longer true that luck and randomness is a factor by which anything significant can change.

we're hammered over the head with it: until and unless you do something to alter the course of events, they will not be altered. when you are the only dynamic element the world is reacting to in an otherwise looping course of events, you don't get to rely, anymore, on the idea that at any moment something could happen to save you. you have to assume that nothing will happen unless you make it.

and siffrin?? siffrin's literal motto was "stick to the script"!! they spend the loops with a mouth that kept closing tighter and tighter and tighter until i got to act 5 and watched them implode. and then I’m saved, and I know I haven't earned this. I get to the end and I'm still not telling them anything!! I wasn't supposed to get the good ending!! but I get away with it anyway with open arms and acceptance and unconditional love, and it's. kind of nauseating?

how am I ever supposed to learn and grow, if I didn't manage to change my behaviour even then under the threat of Eternal Looping Torment, and still got the good ending anyway? how can I prove there was an alternative way I could have broken free if things hadn't turned out so lucky in that one terrible act 5 loop?

I can't. and that's terrifying.

(aside: I’m speaking in the first person here to emphasize that the thing that got in my way is not because I don't believe siffrin is deserving of this love — quite the opposite, I think the driving force behind the good ending is that siffrin went scorched earth and saw he was loved anyway — but because this is a game designed to frequently encourage the player to deeply feel what siffrin is feeling throughout its course and. well. as a thing to happen to a fictional character it's beautiful. as a takeaway for the player, it's... harder.)

and that's where None Forward comes in. (i’ve already written thousands of words in comments and epilogue fic declaring my love by now, but i mean. im hoping you won’t mind just a liiiittle more.)

None Forward shows a devastatingly written, all-too-believable version of what might have happened if siffrin didn't get lucky, and the loops continued, and they kept clinging to the script and refusing to Look At It and successfully stagnating and stagnating and stagnating as they were so determined to do. and it's bad, it's worse, it's way way worse — but there's no reliance on outside factors. it comes completely from within siffrin and loop, the only dynamic pieces in the world, finally breaking out.

it was the terrible, nightmarish unfairness of the loops brought to their natural, just-south-of-inevitable conclusion.

and yes, it's a terrible, unfair conclusion, but the loop still breaks.

in a roundabout way, it... gives me so much hope. if the outside factors were different, if the stars did not align just right to allow siffrin's family to get there on time to save them, if siffrin never learned to open their mouth, which by all means seems like the likeliest course of events... they'd still get out. worse for wear, and separated by a gap unbridgeable, but out.

there is a future. there is freedom.

=====

to speak more specifically on dull ache, if you'll forgive the indulgence, just since this was originally meant to be in a reply to the author in my own comments section:

I think I so desperately needed to write it with a focus on the family siffrin left behind because I wanted to prove, if just for myself, that in that barely-dodged alternative there still could be a future for everyone. (isabeau's just happened to be the voice in which dull ache came to me, but the point was to create an epilogue for all four.)

for the rest of the family, who was not quite so deeply ravaged but was still left in a bad way at the end of None Forward, and for whom randomness is not pretty much unequivocally good just by virtue of being better than the alternative like it is for siffrin and loop (more on that in a sec), I could see it mattering more to set specific pieces up precisely, and I could actually imagine the pieces I could set up that could have a meaningful impact in the immediate future.

so. y’know. I set them, in the way I happened to want to. granted, with some extra... divine indulgence, but siffrin's departure from their family's perspective at the end of None Forward was definitely Wrong but not so obviously wrong that I could believe that without it they wouldn't otherwise either (a) go hunting him down to force out the truth, which felt Worse, or (b) just "accept" that it was as simple as Siffrin not actually caring about them/brushing them off and thus intentionally fade him into the distance in their minds to deal with it. which felt like the WORST POSSIBLE THING.

you'd think it might make more sense to have done this for siffrin and loop, instead. they're arguably the ones who need it most, after all, so why not build them up from rock bottom as a sweeping show of "things get better"?

but... i think it doesn't need to be written to have faith that it will happen: the very fact that Siffrin is about to set out on a new journey in a reality where everything is a dynamic player just. immediately gives me hope all by itself. random lucky things that save you are so much more believable and wonderful when random lucky things in general are happening all the time, and you have all the time in the world for them to happen.

and anyway, I don't think this is the kind of future you’d write satisfyingly as a sequence of events at all. to heal from this is something that will take an incredible amount of time and nonlinear progress. 

until one day, through a series of disconnected small quiet gloriously-random lived experiences, without knowing when it happened or being able to trace it back, you realize, oh —

somewhere along the way, you came to know how to live again.

[gloomygumi]

idiosyncrasies - satoru gojo x gn!reader

summary: part one︱after listening to geto and shoko's theory, you finally decide to do something about your unspoken feelings.

contents: fluff, little bit of pining, highschool!gojo, dessert cafés, the most awkwardly written confession ever, still ooc and still self indulgent

word count: 2.0k

a/n: ask and you shall receive !! i'm so sorry or the wait 😭😭 i really couldn't work out where i wanted this fic to go, but hopefully you'll enjoy how it ends :) feel free to send any requests to my ask box, i'm always grateful for ideas !!

in the days that followed shoko and geto sharing their revelations over an otherwise uneventful lunch period, you found yourself unable to shake your keen awareness of satoru's actions and behaviors around you. it was as if a spotlight had been cast on his every move, making it impossible for you to dismiss the possibility of deeper feelings hidden beneath his friendly facade.

your interactions with gojo became increasingly awkward. you couldn't help but scrutinize every touch, every glance, every shared laugh, searching for signs that he too yearned for more than friendship for you.

in doing so, you discovered even more of his peculiar habits.

one particularly mild october afternoon, you had accompanied satoru to a local coffee shop. it was a place you both routinely visited, sometimes alone but often together. the inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the quiet ambiance had hosted more than its fair share of your group study sessions and whispered conversations.

as you sipped your coffee and engaged in light and casual conversation, you couldn't help but to let out a sigh of satisfaction and softly hum along to the familiar melodies playing in the background. your gaze was intermittently drawn to satoru and eventually, you took notice of your companion carefully arranging the froth on his cappuccino into a somewhat wonky heart shape with the end of his spoon. he almost appeared to be glowing under the dim lights as he playfully peered over his usual sunglasses to meet your gaze.

"what's with the latte art today, satoru?" you asked, tilting your head in an attempt to get a less obstructed view of his masterpiece.

he shot you a boyish grin, leaning in closer to you from across the table as if he were sharing a secret, his eyes holding a mischievous glint. "it's for you." he replied with a cheeky wink.

you blink up at him, feeling your face flush as your mind races in an attempt to come up with some sort of response. you bring your hand up and gently push his face away from yours with your palm, eliciting a hearty laugh from him. in a feeble attempt to reground yourself, you take another hurried gulp of your coffee, making a point to not look at him.

on another night a few weeks later after a particularly grueling solo mission, you returned to the dorms exhausted and covered in small cuts and bruises. despite your injuries being mild, satoru insisted on taking care of your wounds, pestering you until you finally relented. his touch was gentle and warm, a shocking contrast to the unrelenting blows you had previously endured.

"you really don't have to do this, satoru." you said, trying to keep your voice steady as he tended to one of the nastier scrapes spanning the length of your forearm. "really, it's not that bad. i'll just ask shoko to look over it in the morning."

he keeps his gaze trained on his self-appointed task. "you know that i'll always take care of you."

the silence that followed was comfortable, both of you watching his nibble fingers continue to work at disinfecting and bandaging every wound.

when he finally finished looking over his handiwork, he stood from his position on the floor of the common room. wordlessly, he helped you to your feet from the couch and gently guided you down the hallway before stopping right outside of your dorm room.

unsure of how to end the exchange, you wait for him to speak first. instead, he tenderly presses his lips to your temple, mumbling a quiet "sleep tight." before disappearing from your sight, presumably heading to his own room for the night.

you stand still in your own doorway for a few minutes, still feeling the lingering warmth of his touch. you let out a soft sigh, faintly smiling to yourself before crawling into your bed and immediately drifting into a deep slumber.

"you've ruined my life!"

shoko doesn't even look up as you slam your hands onto her desk, too preoccupied with her phone. "what are you talking about?" she drawls.

"what am i talking about!? you know exactly what i'm talking about, shoko. what you said about satoru!" you hiss at her.

shoko finally lifts her gaze from her phone, her eyes locking onto yours. she raises an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "oh, that? we were just speaking the truth, you know."

you groan in frustration, flopping down into your designated chair beside her. "you and geto have planted this idea in my head, and now i can't stop thinking about it. it's driving me crazy!" your words are muffled as you buried your face in the crook of your crossed arms on the desk in front of you.

shoko turns to face you, giving you a somewhat sympathetic look. "is it really that bad that he likes you? i know he's kind of annoying, but he is your friend..."

your head shoots up at her suggestion. "what? no! it's not that i don't like him!" almost as if shocked by the volume of your own voice, you clamp your hands over your mouth. you stare at shoko with wide eyes as she laughs at you. "i just... wasn't prepared for this, that's all..." you mutter, embarrassed.

shoko tilts her head thoughtfully as her laughter subsides. "i get it, i get it. you're worried about what might happen to your friendship if things change."

you nod your head rapidly, grateful that she understands your hesitation. "exactly! what if this is all a huge misunderstanding, it would make things so awkward, right?" you reply, before quietly confessing. "i really don't want to lose him as a friend, shoko."

your friend leans back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. "i don't think you have to worry about that, it's still gojo after all. he doesn't exactly seem like the type to let something like this to get in the way of his friendships." she gives you a reassuring smile but before you can thank her for the encouragement, the classroom door swings open and in walks the final two members of your class.

you and shoko are quick to drop your conversation as you both shift your focus to satoru and suguru's loud bickering, which works to quickly lighten the mood in the room.

you can't help but to let out a genuine laugh, satoru's wild gestures and suguru's deadpan responses creating an entertaining spectacle. although you're not completely sure what the topic of their debate is yet, it's clear that the dynamic duo's spirited conversation brings a sense of comfortable familiarity to the room.

they make their way towards their desks, they quickly pull you and shoko into their conversation. boisterous laughter fills the room for the next several minutes before yaga enters, yelling at the class to quieten down.

as you settle back into your seat, your mind can't help but to replay your earlier conversation with shoko. the more you thought about it, the more you realised she was right. perhaps it was a good idea to bring your feelings up to satoru - even if he didn't feel the same, maybe a firm rejection was just what you needed to calm your racing thoughts.

before you know it, the bell that signals the end of class is ringing. you stand up, stretching your arms above your head in an attempt to alleviate the tension that had settled in your shoulders. before you have the opportunity to gather your belongings, a familiar weight gently presses against the crown of your head. It's satoru's trademark gesture, using your head as his unofficial armrest.

"there's a new dessert café that just opened, wanna join me?" his voice is warm and inviting as always, drawing your attention away from your thoughts. "i read online that they have something called a volcano cake, doesn't that sound so cool? we have to try it."

you don't even realise that you're smiling, replying before you even have the chance to check your schedule. "alright, let's go." he straightens up and you finally lift your bag as you both walk towards the open door. before you leave, you turn to wave goodbye to shoko and geto only to see them already exchanging smug grins and giving you a double thumbs up each. you lower your hand and scoff at their antics.

as you strolled down the unfamiliar streets toward the café, the warm rays of the late afternoon sun created a scenic walk. your footsteps fell in sync with his as your conversation came to a gradual stop, a comfortable silence overcoming you before you finally arrived at your destination. satoru urges you to find a good seat for you both while he orders, and you're once again left alone with your thoughts.

he's back before you know it, his tray stacked high with all sorts of sweet treats. as he sets it down in front of you, the anticipated dessert catches your eye - a molten chocolate eruption atop a delicate slice of cake, sprinkled with icing sugar and decorated with an assortment of berries. you had to admit, it looked impressive.

you marveled at his overwhelming delight as he described each desert, his childlike joy and bright smile was infectious as you continued to listen to his speech.

"look at this one," he said, gesturing to a miniature cheesecake adorned with a raspberry glaze. "i tried something similar at a bakery with suguru a while back, and it was so good i had to get one for you to try too! and this one," he continued, pointing to a chocolate delicate mousse tart, "it's like a dream in every bite, i promise you."

his animated explanations only heightened the anticipation, and you couldn't help but be charmed by his passion for sweets. as you dug into the platter of desserts together, the conversation continued to shift through multiple topics.

it was then you finally decided to address the elephant in the room, telling yourself it was the perfect moment. tucked into the back corner with the afternoon sun casting its soft gaze over the two of you, you spoke up.

"hey, satoru." you began, your voice soft and surprisingly steady. "there's something i want to talk to you about."

you can feel his gaze on you, and can almost imagine how his head tilts with curiosity. "hm? what's on your mind?" he muses.

your gaze is trained on your hands which lay flat on the table before you, your fingers lightly tapping a rhythm. as you take a moment to gather your thoughts, you listen to the distant chatter of the other customers that surround you, the soft clinks of cutlery brushing ceramic. "shoko and geto, they mentioned something to me not too long ago," you started, "they said that they think you... like me." your words carry an aura of uncertainty, but you finally urge yourself to look at his face. gojo's expression is a mix of shock and mock betrayal, his eyes are wide and his jaw is clenched.

"those jerks..." her whines. "i wanted to be the one to tell you! i should've known they'd blab about it eventually." your jaw drops and you can barely hold in a shocked yelp at his unexpected admission, rendered momentarily speechless as you watch him roll his eyes and slump further back into his chair with his arms crossed.

"what are you talking about?" you stammer, trying to come up with anything to say. you can feel the tension from moments ago dissipate as your shoulders relax.

"well, i mean it's not a secret anymore, right?" you can recognise the playful glint in his eyes as he teases you, shifting his posture once again to lean in closer to you from over the table. "i like you. a lot."

you don't make any attempt to conceal the warm smile that graces your features, eyes crinkling in delight. "well, that's quite the confession, satoru."

he shrugs, still maintaining eye contact. "i figured i'd take the plunge. go big or go home, right?" a crooked, cocky smile found its home on his lips as you lightly scoff at his unwavering self-confidence.

"yeah, yeah." you mumble, raising your eyebrow in amusement at his declaration. "i like you too." feigning nonchalance at his confession, but the bright fondness that shone through your eyes made your affections clear.

you couldn't wait to tell shoko the good news.

[levanterhaze]

✧ BLUE FLAME WITH JUNGKOOK ✧

→ jungkook x reader

→ word count: 2.6k

→ your noisy neighbor has been disturbing your nights, so you decide to take satisfaction. however, there is a fine line between satisfaction and pleasure.

→ warnings: masturbation, penetration, protected sex, lot of swearing, dirty talk and sloppy sex if you're not +18 please do NOT read. (i decided to write this after watching those 2 episodes of the sex life of college girls)

It was 10:54 PM.

It was the exact moment where it all began. First, there were the grunts and soft moans, then came the screams and the relentless clatter of the headboard banging the wall. And you were fed up with it.

Every night your neighbor would get some girl and end up disturbing your night's sleep. And it was derailed how the screams progressed further and further, being able to wake up the entire building. You wondered how they managed to be so loud. It was nasty.

But today was your day off. You were curled up on your comforter in your comfiest pajamas, watching a 90s rom-com and eating an extra greasy pizza when your sex maniac neighbor started the bedlam.

And every time you tried to be friendly, not caring too much about other people's sex lives, it was impossible to hear any line from the movie with that girl screaming her lungs out on the other side of the wall.

Yes, yes, Jungkook!

Oh my god, Jungkook!

At some point, you were starting to think that this guy must be a sex god so that all girls act the same way, always, all of them. Or they just faked it every time, which to be honest, was a bit suspicious.

The headboard slamming on the wall was so loud that you had to move your bed to stop yours from swaying too. Damn thin wall. The screams continued and it seemed that the girl was coming to an exquisite and long orgasm.

You walked up to the wall and threw two punches as if they’d hear over all those moans. “Can you be fucking quiet? Jesus."

Realizing you weren't going to be able to finish your precious movie, you just decided you'd better grab a coat and change and go for a long walk until the whole thing is over.

The next morning you heard giggles coming from the hallway and guessed the neighbor's girl was leaving. It was nearly seven in the morning, the time for you to go to the gym before work. Lucky that your condo has a private gym that residents could access for free.

No one was using it at the time, so you took the opportunity to do your routine exercises. Until a slender figure, dressed all in black and tattoos, appeared in your peripheral. You knew it was him, your neighbor. You happened to see him coming into his apartment the other day.

But dammit, he was really…attractive?

He gave a gentle good morning grin, revealing his lip piercing.

Jesus Christ.

You did the same, out of politeness. However, it was the ideal time to go up to him and finally tell him that he was bothering all your nights with that insane sex screaming that came from his house. You schemed how you would say it, as it's not a very nice subject and you had no other way of saying it than directly.

Jungkook was choosing some music on his phone when you slowly approached.

"Hey. You're Jungkook, right? I'm your neighbor."

"Hey. I know."

Does he know? All right, whatever.

“Look, I don't know how to say this properly, so I'll just say it. You are very noisy. Look, I understand that you love sex and you do it constantly but the wall is really, really thin. So I would really appreciate it if you could… You know…?”

You had no idea how your face felt, but you could feel the burning in your cheeks and the extreme sweat on your hands. You hate being put in uncomfortable situations where you have to step out of your comfort zone and deal with unpleasant things.

But that was a problem that needed to be settled.

Jungkook's lips draw a thin line as he bit back a smile, you can tell.

“Oh, okay. Can you lend me your phone?”

You blink a few times, wondering if you've misunderstood.

"Sorry?"

"Your number. That way you can let me know if I'm too loud."

He can't be serious.

You realize then that he is indeed being sincere when he reaches out for your phone. And you just hand him the device, being slightly distracted by the dozen drawings painted over his arm muscles.

“Thanks, I guess.” You hold the phone back and try to ignore his glare and that slutty smile that spreads across his lips when you drift away.

Almost two weeks passed and, incredible as it may seem, your neighbor seemed to have come to reality, because the insane noises had ceased for good. And you were even a little surprised, for a person who did that every day, going almost fifteen days without having sex, it seemed like a grand slam.

It was late at night and you were exhausted after working an eight-hour shift. Your friend had called to share some news about a date she had gone on extremely badly.

Until your nightmare started again.

"What the fuck? Are you watching porn while talking to me?” Your friend's voice was grossed out.

“It's my stupid neighbor. I swear to god, he’s a sex maniac. This is not normal."

"At least he is hot?" Your friend asks and you think too quickly about those muscles pressed by the black shirt. Thick, well-defined thighs in the shorts he'd been wearing to the gym. The broad shoulders… “Never mind. What will you do?"

“I'm going to stop him or call the police or something. I'll be right back, I'll call you later."

"Good luck."

"Thanks. I'll need it."

This time you were determined to make a fuss if possible. You could hear his groans from behind the wall and it was insane. You just wanted to close your eyes and go to sleep, without having to think about your extremely hot neighbor having sex right next to you.

You put on a robe and left the house. There were two loud knocks on the door and a long wait for Jungkook to answer the door. And honestly, you wish you hadn't. Because he looked like a Greek god with his long hair falling into his eyes, his shirt a little open, and his sweatpants hanging awkwardly on narrow hips.

Right. Focus. You're here for a reason.

“Good night, neighbor.” He beams sweetly, exposing the piercing, and you almost gulp strongly because he's too good-looking to be true.

“You’re doing it again.”

"Doing what?" He frowns, pretending to be baffled.

"You know very well." You point the finger at him. “I just want you to tell your friend to be quieter.I just want to sleep.”

“So I disturbed your sleep?”

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" He tongues his cheeks. “And what are you going to do about it?”

You didn't want to admit it, but an absurd heat rose in your body, spreading mainly between your legs.

“I could call the cops.” You cross your arms, trying to dismiss the flaming feeling in your body.

“Sounds like a plan.” He smiles and then looks over his shoulder. “Or you could come in.”

"In your house? With someone in there? Why on earth would I do that?”

Jungkook scowls, this time really looking stumped.

“There’s no one here.”

Oh.

Oh.

He seems to be amused by his accomplishment. “I should go back and…”

“I have good wine. You look tense. And I owe you an apology.”

OK. Wine sounds good. And you really were tense and it was because of him. And he really owed you an apology. You analyzed the situation for a few seconds before deciding that it was okay. If he really wanted to apologize, you could at least listen to him, that wouldn't hurt.

The interior of Jungkook's apartment was very clean and tidy. He appeared a few seconds later with two glasses of wine and indicated the sofa so you could both sit down. Inside, you were feeling a little bad because he was alone and the sounds you heard… That was a little too intimate.

"Then. Wine. Now the apologies.”

He drinks down his wine and then looks at you curiously.

“You missed something.” Jungkook stares at you earnestly. “You’re still tense.”

You gulp down the wine quickly, trying to disguise how sweaty you were by the way his eyes stared at you. "I’m fine. Thanks for the wine. I really need to go.” You get up quickly, but Jungkook follows you to the door.

“Or you could stay.”

He leaves the glass on the table and approaches slowly. You try to focus on his face and not that sinewy body walking towards you.

"And why would I do that?" Your voice comes out as a tired whisper.

Jungkook moves even closer and you shudder as you feel his warm breath blow over your skin. “Because you’re also disturbing my sleep.”

Fuck.

Your breathing is so shallow it's embarrassing. Your heart beats a mile a minute in your chest and you know he's noticed how much you're giving in to his charm, like magnetism. And the wine seems to loosen you up, untying all the tangles that bound your body, taking the tension out of every muscle at once.

And you feel so vulnerable. Your body is craving for his touch because your mind wanders on outrageous thoughts of Jungkook thinking about you while… It's crazy. You've always been so tired, not enough time to have a good night of casual sex, that maybe you could enjoy it. Just once.

You throw your sanity to hell and grab Jungkook's face just to kiss him. His arms envelop you deliciously and the world seems to burn with a burning desire in a blue flame. His lips are greasy and he tastes divine, the wine mixing with his essence so deliciously that you wail into his lips.

He helps you out of your robe and you can see it in the dim light as his pupils dilate at the sight of that stupid skimp nightgown, you're wearing. His hands are agile and large and you gasp as his thumbs graze the sides of your breasts and his body pushes you to the edge of the table. Jungkook slides between your legs, cupping your face and moving his lips down to your chin and then your neck.

“Jungkook…” You roll your eyes as his tongue wriggles across your skin, painfully crawling to your throbbing spot.

“Wanna taste you.” He whispers into your skin. “Wanna feel you so bad, baby. Fuck."

And you don't look out for the fact that your legs are parted so he would do anything to you. You were already sure you were past the shame stage and the alcohol was helping that aspect.

He continues kissing your skin as he squeezes your thigh and lifts the narrow fabric of your nightie to your waist. You hold back a loud sob when he touches you right where you want him. Then, Jungkook groans into your skin. “You're dripping. God."

And that was embarrassing, but what the hell. He shoves the fabric aside and you clasp the cloth of his shirt as his skin makes contact with yours. Jungkook looks at you, your brows are wrinkled and your lips are parted. It's quite a sight. He thrusts his fingers inside you, enjoying how easy it’s to slide inside you.

"Shit." You pull him closer. You spread your legs even wider, feeling your body gain immediate weakness. He touches you so unhurriedly as if he wants to see you suffer and it's nice and painful at the same time. "More."

“Need more?” He reaches until there’s no space left. And as much as he's fascinated by the sight of your pussy taking his fingers so hungrily, it's your face he focuses on. He kisses you clumsily, licks you, and sucks on your lips like he's starved for it. And he was. For you.

Your forehead sticks to his chest, hiding the rest with every eye roll. You drag him tight by his shirt, biting your lip to keep from moaning the loudest you've ever wanted to moan in your life. “Jungkook.” A restrained groan escapes your lips.

"I want to hear from you." He slows down and you look up in disbelief. “Let me hear you.”

“Please…” You plead softly, but he ignores it. Shit. "Harder, please!" Your voice comes out much stronger and he does exactly what you ask.

With his mouth, he trails kisses to your breasts and tugs at the fabric with his teeth until it falls gracefully across your shoulders, exposing your rawest skin. And his tongue devours you. He plays with your breasts, nibbles on your skin, and drives you wild.

You're almost there, your hips undulating quickly to maintain more touch.

You wanted more. You need more.

“Jungkook.” And he seems to understand your darkest desires because he pulls out a condom from God knows where and you're not surprised to see how hard he is, ready to ruin you.

Your feet are on the edge of the table and he's flattening your stomach, making you lie down.

“Shit, you’re so fucking hot.” He caresses his cock with one hand and your clit with the other, in equal rhythms. Your back arches with delectable friction and you think you're going to come right then and there, but he amazes you when he enters you. “So damn good for me.”

"My God!" You cry involuntarily and make your body shake.

His hand is pressing down on your stomach, but he's still touching your sore clit with his thumb, very slowly. He looks for your eyes to see if he can go faster and you don't hesitate to approve immediately.

He moves like a god. Hips crushing your skin, the sound of skin hitting skin. Nimble fingers traveling over your breasts. Your leg going up on his shoulders. Jungkook's long hair is damp and falling over his forehead. The tattooed arm presses you deliciously. It all felt like a lucid dream.

His whines are melodic and it makes you even more turned on knowing that he’s worshiping every moment of it just as you are. He hammers his hips harder, teeth clamping down on his lip until the skin’s whitened. There's a small crease in his forehead and you feel he's as close as you are.

You move your hips against him as much as possible, feeling that intense fire burns every cell, every inch of your body from the inside out.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Jungkook cries, squeezing the edge of the table tightly as he lunges faster and faster, barely able to withstand the clench of your pussy on his cock

“I’m gonna…” You swallow hard, your voice cracking.

"I got you. Cum for me.”

And like magic words, your body convulses underneath Jungkook's body. Orgasm hits you hard, arching your back and melting your brain to jell-o. Jungkook lays down, licking your neck and then smooching your lips, making you devour erotic mutters in a hot, slippery kiss. He groans huskily and pleasurably in your ear and you pull his hair once more, just to end the kiss.

You're both sweaty and out of breath. He's still up and inside you. He is everywhere. The hickeys on your skin, the marks on your body, and the electrifying orgasm he just gave you.

“So…” Jungkook lifts his head, brushing the hair past your face. "Wine. You’re no longer tense. Do I still owe you an apology?”

You stare into those doe eyes and a laugh reverberates in your chest.

“I think we're good.”

[denaliwrites]

His Love is All in Me

Aziraphale x GN!Reader x Crowley

Summary: It's not every day you compete with a demon for the affections of an angel.

Soundtrack: The Boy is Mine by Brandy & Monica

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Jealousy. Unrequited Love. Choking. Crowley is a Dick.

Upon further reflection, maybe Crowley had been right to call you an interloper. Sure, you hadn't meant to intrude on the good thing he had with his angel that fateful, rainy evening in December when you'd first wandered into Aziraphale's shop. You also hadn't meant to steal the angel's attention. Hadn't meant to keep going back day after day. Hadn't meant to get attached.

But now here you were, deeply seated not just in a plush armchair in the angel's bookshop several months later, but also in the angel's life.

Which meant, for better or for worse, you were deeply seated in Crowley's life as well.

And he hated you.

He made it impossibly clear any time the two of you were alone, and though he pumped the brakes a little when Aziraphale was around, he didn't do much to hide it then either. You tried not to let it show, both for Aziraphale's peace of mind and so that Crowley wouldn't get the satisfaction of knowing he'd upset you... but it did weigh on you.

But no matter how much weight you can hold, eventually there's a point where it's too much and some (or all) of it goes tipping over.

Aziraphale was leaving for the weekend.

He said something about having to travel to the States to get a book he'd been after for years, darling. You were on board until he put you in charge of the shop. That would be... stressful. But manageable. And then Crowley walked in, and Aziraphale lit up, and told him that he was in charge too.

The glare Crowley sent you the moment the angel turned away made you want to wither and die.

Before he left, Aziraphale handed you a tray of freshly baked treats -- ones he knew you loved, your most favorite treats that you'd probably kill for.

"To remember me by," he said before leaving.

Once alone in the shop with Crowley, you threw him a wary glance. You wanted to say something -- anything -- but nothing came to mind. Nervously, you set the tray down on the table beside your usual chair before dipping behind the counter to grab the book you'd been reading.

You heard a snap, and when you looked back over, the tray of treats was on fire.

"Crowley!" you yelped, barely managing to set the book down before frantically looking for a fire extinguisher. There wasn't one -- somewhere in the logical part of your brain, you figured it was because the angel could just miracle a fire away. But that didn't help you, a mortal, right now.

"C-Crowley," you whimpered as you finally came to a halt, simply staring at the fire in defeat.

You looked up at the sound of another snap. You could see out of your peripheral that the fire was gone, but your main focus was on Crowley's infuriatingly smug expression.

It pained you to look away, but you forcefully pulled your expression off of him to look at the tray -- the fire had burned every single treat into inedible embers.

As you looked, some sound that vaguely resembled a laugh came out of Crowley, and you whipped around to glare at him.

"What is your FUCKING problem?!" you growled, storming up to him.

He easily could've overpowered you, killed you, done literally anything, but he let you slam him up into the nearest wall, let you press your arm to his throat. Not that he needed to breathe, but it was satisfying all the same.

"Ever since that first day you have had it out for me! I've been nothing but nice, and helpful, and accommodating to your stupid mood swings! What the fuck else can you possibly want from me, you fucking asshole!?"

"I want you gone," he replied simply.

Oh. On further reflection, you should've seen that coming.

"The angel doesn't love you. He can't. You're but a fleeting little infatuation -- a pet. The moment you start withering, start showing your cursed humanity, he'll lose interest."

"Why do you even care?" you asked exasperatedly. "You've had six thousand years with him and you'll have six thousand more, infinite times over. Why do you care if he's distracted for a few years out of eternity?"

"Because he's mine!" Crowley hissed. "He's my friend. My Angel."

"This whole fucking time," you said with a sigh. "This whole time I thought you hated me for a real reason -- but you were just jealous? This whole time, you only hated me because you can't stand the idea of Aziraphale liking anyone else."

Suddenly, the tables were flipped and you were the one pressed to the wall. Unlike Crowley, though, you did need air to breathe, and his hand was nearly crushing your throat.

"C-Crowley--" you wheezed desperately, but his hold didn't let up.

"Listen to me, you insolent little speck of insignificant cosmic shit," Crowley hissed above you, "I don't care about the angel's pointless dalliances with mortals. We blink and you're dead and it's like no time has passed at all."

You were getting lightheaded, delirious.

"What I care about is you humans stupidly worming your way into his heart, only for you to inevitably die and break it."

Just as suddenly as it was there, the pressure on your windpipe was gone, and your body collapsed and instinctively dragged in desperate gasping breaths.

Crowley watched you disdainfully as you sucked in breath after breath, until eventually you evened out.

"Th..." you tried to speak, but every few breaths one still came out as a gasp.

Crowley knelt before you, looking you over. His hand neared your face and you jerked away, yet he persisted. You were surprised when the touch that landed on your chin was gentle. Limply, you let him tilt your chin up, giving him a view of your neck. A couple soft clicks of his tongue and a snap later, and your throat and lungs no longer burned.

"Wh-what did you--"

"I don't want you dead," he said with a sigh. "In fact, I'd much prefer you live a good, long life. Just... somewhere away from Aziraphale. And me."

You blinked up at him, before you let out a pained, wheezing laugh. "Y-you want me to live a 'good, long life'? You hate me!"

"You humans," he groused, looking around like some form of help might magically appear before him. "You're so -- smallminded. You don't get it."

"Get what?" you asked, voice suddenly weak. He looked genuinely worried, and that surprised you.

"You think that love and hate are mutually exclusive. Even when you love and hate something! Like -- like you. You love and hate romance novels. I've seen it! You love and hate them, and yet you cannot fathom the idea that I could love and hate humanity -- love and hate you."

"Sorry," you wheezed, "you love me?"

"Well -- hgk."

You laughed at the sound he made in the back of his throat, and yet again he surprised you. His lips actually pulled up, just a little, in response.

"Yeah, I do. In the way I love every other human," he said after a moment. "But I love you because Aziraphale does, too."

"Yet you want me gone?"

"Because I hate seeing his heart get broken."

"Some things are worth getting your heart broken for, Crowley."

His stunned blinks told you he'd never considered that.

"I know I'm not going to live forever. I know you two will outlive me by eternity. I'll spend the rest of my life with you, and for you, it'll be a second on the cosmic clock. Less, probably."

His eyes met yours, thoughtful, sad, considering.

"Don't you think it breaks my heart too, knowing I'll only get so much time with you before I'm gone? That I'll have to leave him behind, and he'll have to deal with that pain?"

"Then why stay?"

"Because I love him, and people do stupid things for love. Sometimes they do selfish things for it, too. And sometimes, the people involved are perfectly capable of making their own decisions and have considered the outcome and think that the pain they'll experience is worth it."

He looks away in shame, then.

"Aziraphale's not an idiot," you say, reaching out a hand to tilt Crowley's face towards you. "If he didn't want to feel that loss, he wouldn't keep getting attached to humans. But he sees something in us worth going through that pain for. Maybe instead of treating him like an infant who can't understand the consequences of his decisions, you should respect that -- like it or not -- he has his own reasons for doing things and he's more than capable of choosing to do them."

"I can see why he likes you, now," Crowley said softly, and you blinked. "You... hgk. He's fallen for many humans, but you may be the best of them."

Coming from him, that surprised you, but it also warmed your heart. "Oh, he does love me back?" you asked with a laugh.

"Oh, yes," Crowley sighed dramatically. "Didn't understand why before but... now I do."

"And what about us?" you asked.

The sound that came out of that demon's mouth was -- well, it was something. Something that made you cackle.

"Us?" he finally managed, baffled.

"Yeah. Like. Are we okay? Are we cool? No more hating and trying to chase me off and stuff? Can we be civil?"

"Oh," he said, but you saw the moment the realization actually sank in. "Oh! Yes, yeah, we're fine. You're... you're good."

This made you smile. Without warning, you grabbed the demon and pulled him into a hug. "Maybe we can even be friends," you said, delighting in the way his body stiffened against yours.

"Oh, no, no -- I don't -- I don't do that -- that's the angel's thing --"

Despite Crowley's best attempts at insisting that he didn't befriend Aziraphale's "pets" and that he'd much rather stay as far from you as possible, when Aziraphale returned home at the end of the weekend he found the two of you in one of the armchairs -- Crowley's favorite, in fact. You were asleep with a book hanging limply and precariously from your hand. Crowley was... well, it was hard to tell, with his glasses on, but he had his body sprawled across yours, one leg thrown over the back of the chair and one laid over your lap in what Aziraphale would dare say was a protective gesture. He smiled, miracling a blanket over the two of you before he went about settling back into his home routine.

[meanbossart]

I was wondering, how did DU Drow took to Orins betrayal? To her being the one that stabbed him in the back, and so how did his infatuation and imprinting on her changed or twisted? Did he feel anything when he saw her again? Did his body or mind remembered how he felt about her once? Also do not worried for long replies because I’m a sucker for them 🧛🏻‍♀️

You know, actually I like thinking about the very moment of the betrayal a lot and the rollercoaster of emotions DU drow would have experienced LOL I don't know EXACTLY how Orin managed to get away after mushing up his brain (and him being immediately rendered unconscious sounds a little boring to me) but I assume, wherever they were at the time - probably mindflayer hideout at Ketheric's I believe - she lured him somewhere where she could make a quick get-away and leave him behind either locked away or stuck when he inevitably reacted to what she did, before his mind started drifting away.

Which is just to say he would have had a few minutes of consciousness left immediately after-the fact. Orin got a head-start because he simply could not believe what had just happened: lots of "what did you do? what did you do? why did you do that?" followed by unbridled anger as reality settled in. He assumed he was going to die, so, If he could have gotten to Orin in time DU drow would have killed her. Instead he was left alone in what was probably the most terrifying and anxiety inducing few minutes he ever had in his life before his body and brain just gave out lol

POST the tadpole he remembered nothing. He had no feelings of sadness or mourning when he saw her, just a lot of rage. The weird "imprinting" he does on people was reset when his brains got scrambled, and he felt no love or affection for her from that point on. That said, I think he found something a little gross in the satisfaction he felt upon killing her, like he finally "got her" - if you catch my drift.

What's a little ironic (and kinda sad) here is that it's thanks to his affection towards Astarion that DU drow could even begin to understand concepts like consent and boundaries - these would have been key to realize that the position he put Orin in for years was profoundly uncomfortable and unfair, and perhaps with that in mind he *could* have somehow reached out to her and maybe even spared her of her own fate (I'm not entirely sure about this because of how faithful she was to Bhaal - but it would have at least raised the chances THE TINIEST BIT), but since the relationship was only possible BECAUSE his memories were erased, leaving nothing but resentment towards her, that became an impossibility. You can't have both; his infatuation with her either ceased and he completely forgot he ever cared for her and hence had no motivation to save her, or he remained utterly obsessed and never developed the relationships necessary to understand his role in his own demise.

In that later scenario the best he would have been able to do by the time he got to her was insist they go rogue, fuck Bhaal and fuck this, come with me and lets go be crazy [together] somewhere else and of our own accord - but obviously, Orin would have had no interest in the offer lmao and things would have ended up the same as they did in the main campaign - except now DU drow is a slightly worse person and doesn't have Astarion to hone him in. Even after she died I don't think a relationship between them could have sparked either, likely BECAUSE his obsession with Orin would have skeeved him away entirely.

[thesiltverses]

Hello! Just wanted to say, and hopefully this isn't an odd compliment to receive, how much I adore the episode titles of the silt verses. One of my favorite things to do after I get someone to listen to tsv is point out that the episode titles make a poem when you read them back to back. It always tends to blow their minds and I get great satisfaction from seeing their reactions. What I especially love about them is how they can stand on their own and reflect events of the episodes while still connect with one another to make a bigger picture so to speak. (For example, how Faulkner and Carpenter's reunion episode in s2 is titled "But We'll Never Be Rid of Each Other" to reflect their relationship as two people that can't seem to untangle themselves from each other, for better or for worse ((and how this title hangs over the episode ominously when contrasted with how happy their reunion makes listeners, as if just waiting for events to come)), but then connect it to the next title "My Song, My Sorrow and I" and it slightly changes the context where it feels more like it examines the characters' various complicated relationships with their gods)

(Though, on a tangent, speaking of episode titles and how they match each episode, I think constantly about "One Final Fall From Grace" with Faulkner and how it's the episode where he loses all but one of his acolytes, idk there's something about it that gets me so bad/pos)

I was wondering how you go about deciding on episode titles? Has the poem already been written out since the very beginning of the show? Is episode order dictated and determined by said finished poem? Or am I overthinking how each line fits each episode? What made you decide on this format compared to I am in Eskew's episode naming convention? Sorry for such a long winded question! I just cannot overstate how much I adore the episode titles, sometimes I'll go back and read everything all over just to hear the words.

Thank you very much!

So the plan was always roughly along the lines of:

Season 1 titles begin by trying to outline a kind of epic poem, then get distracted by describing its hold over the poet

Season 2 titles are about the poet's yearning to be free from the poem, but ultimate acceptance that their fates are entwined

Season 3 is about the realisation that the poem will outlive the poet.

Beyond that, there's generally plenty of flex and it remains a semi-spontaneous act of play - like you say, I might think I have something in mind and then realise at the last minute that another line works better for the themes of the ep (and sometimes there's no thematic relevance at all and it's just filling in a necessary rhyme to keep the whole thing going).

This leads to imperfections and a bit of a shaggy-dog story feel - if I could go back without confusing everyone, I'd correct the very first ep title to 'First I'll Sing Of Revelations' so the terminology is consistent - but I like imperfections, and I like shaggy dogs.

As to why? It just felt like a different way of being playful; the Eskew titles were fun for me because of their simplicity (I have vivid memories as a very young kid, not being old enough to be allowed to watch the video-tapes of Blackadder II, all of which had really evocative, teasing single-word episode titles - 'Head', 'Money', 'Potato'. So I'd just sit back on the floor and imagine what those meant.)

But for TSV, it felt appropriate and fun to begin with these trappings of epic storytelling and religious verse in the episode titles, and then gradually pan outwards to show that it's more of a story about being entrapped by stories and the impossibility of escape.

[aviationtothemax]

What are You Trying to Teach Them?

Just needed a thing where Ice puts Cyclone in his place. ..sorta, because Ice chooses to have self control.

But no one messes with Iceman's wingman.

"How long until the mission?" Ice asks, piercing eyes flicking between the two.

"Two weeks, sir." They both say.

Ice taps his hand against his thigh once, looking past their shoulders at the door. He needed to get these two to work together if this mission had even the slightest chance of succeeding. So he asked, "What are you teaching them?"

Maverick remains stock still- that was kind of concerning to Ice. Cyclone speaks before him, probably assuming it was for him to answer, as he outranked the Captain. "Currently, we're showing them the course, sir. Studying the layouts and twists. They'll be in the air tomorrow, sir."

Ice gives him a curt nod. He already knew that, Simpson. "And what are you trying to teach them?"

Cyclone looks confused for a moment. "Sir..?"

Ice stares at him expectantly and feels a rush of satisfaction when he shifts uncomfortably. Maverick still hasn't moved.

"How to run this course, sir. How to complete the mission." Cyclone says, confusion clear in his eyes. Ice hums quietly and turns his piercing gaze to Mav expectantly.

Maverick doesn't meet his eyes and instead stares past his left ear.

And so it was a matter of who would bend first, as it had been from the moment they met at Top Gun in '86. And it sure as hell wasn't going to be Ice this time because he had a point to get across. But he also knew this could last a while, so he pushed because they didn't have the time to butt heads.

"Maverick?"

"Sir."

Ice's eyebrow raised ever so slightly, knowing very well that Mav knew what he wanted and could read him better than just about anyone. And Mav never actually called him sir unless it was he was in front of a crowd.

"Mitchell."

Maverick kept staring past Ice's left ear at the wall. Stubborn son of a bitch.

"I assigned you to this mission for a reason."

Maverick nodded ever so slightly. So, he wasn't going to talk.

"What are you trying to teach these kids, Captain?"

Mav was silent for a few more seconds before he finally said, "Just as Admiral Simpson said, sir."

Ice felt his blood boil at the slightly smug look on Simpson's face. He hated how Mav's rep made every single CO above him so prejudiced. Maverick had so much to give, but no one to see it and Ice hated it. That was why he fought so hard for the little shit. Life was so unfair to him.

"No, Mav. Why did I assign you?" Ice asked him, letting the formalities slip a bit.

Maverick started slowly shaking his head, and that's when Ice saw it: the glassy look in his eyes. Shit, he should've checked in sooner. He'd known this assignment would hurt. "I don't know, sir."

Ice sighed. "Maverick."

"I don't know." He repeated.

Ice let him collect himself before speaking again. "You're the only pilot in the last thirty years to shoot down three MiGs."

"I know that." Mav said. "And it seems to be about the only justification for me being here. You just can't find anyone else because this mission is impossible. Ice, why are you making me send these kids to their death?" Send Bradley to his death?

Cyclone looked a little taken aback at how the captain talked back to the COMPACFLT, but neither of them took any notice.

"I am not making you send them to their deaths, Maverick, you're their only hope. I want you to teach them, increase their chances of coming home. You've pulled so many impossible, crazy stunts, brought back so many pilots that the Navy was ready to give up on. They need you, Mav."

Mav shook his head again, darting a hand up to wipe his cheek as a tear escaped. "I'm not enough, Ice."

"Yes you are. You're the only person who can make this happen."

"Why can't you?" Mav asked quietly. It wasn't meant to be defensive, it was a simple question that implied, 'you're better than me, how can I possibly be more qualified?'

"Because I wasn't the one that saved all those pilots, even if it was against orders, pulled off all of those crazy-ass, reckless stunts that give me gray hair and a few more stacks of paperwork. I wasn't the one that saved our asses in the Layton mission and then every mission we flew together after. I've always hated to say it out loud, and you know it, but we do need more pilots like you. Ones that care. You care about those kids, don't you?"

He didn't answer, but the way he cast his eyes down was plenty affirmation. Ice gripped his shoulder and ducked his head to try to meet his friend's eyes.

"Then teach them how to come home, Mav."

"Okay." Mav said. He finally looked up into his eyes and Ice offered him a small smile. Mav nodded curtly, once. "Okay."

"That's my wingman."

"Bullshit." Mav said with a small smile of his own.

Ice chuckled.

[intheticklecloset]

Hihiiiiiii was wondering if i could order a peppermint mocha love your coffee btw with ler chuuya and lee Dazai. With him already being clingy as is but being cold and clingy the mackerel wants to warm up so the slug dishes out

🩷❤️ be sure to stay hydrated!!

❄️ Peppermint Mocha Special Order ❄️

~~~

“Where are you going?” Chuuya growled, pulling Dazai closer to him by the ankles before straddling his thighs, pinning him in place. “A minute ago you wouldn’t leave me the hell alone, and now you’re trying to run away? I’m hurt.”

Dazai was cackling breathlessly, hands gripped around his boyfriend’s wrists as he wheezed, “Plehehehehehease, Chuuya!”

“You thought canceling my ability would be enough to free you, eh? You forget how good I am at no-skill combat.”

The detective could only laugh helplessly beneath his partner, already red in the face and gasping for breath as Chuuya continued to drill into his hips without mercy. He tried to buck him off but couldn’t even manage to do that.

“Plehehehehehehease, I’m sohohohohohorry! I’ll leheheheheheave you alone, I swear!”

Chuuya smirked down at him. “Still cold? You look like you’re warming up to me, Dazai. I knew you liked being tickled, but this much? Really?”

“The fihihihihihire is rihihihihihight behind me, you ahahahahahahass!” Dazai shot back, tossing his head back with a scream and clamping his arms to his sides when the mafioso dove into his armpits. “NOHOHOHOHOHO PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE NOT AGAIN!! CHUHUHUHUHUHUUYA I’M SOHOHOHOHOHORRY!!”

The redhead chuckled, watching his boyfriend fall to pieces beneath him with no small amount of satisfaction. Yes, his partner loved being tickled, but to get him to the point where he was truly desperate for it to stop and would do anything to make it happen? It was nigh impossible to achieve, and Chuuya had done it in mere minutes. He was proud of himself.

“Let’s see…what do I want you to do for me…?”

Dazai’s laughter was turning frantic, and Chuuya knew he didn’t have long before he seriously needed to stop, but he was going to draw this out as long as he could, damn it.

“AHAHAHAHAHANYTHING!! ANYTHING YOU WAHAHAHAHAHANT CHUUYA!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

Chuuya hummed, kept digging into his worst spot for another few moments, then finally slowed to a stop and grinned as Dazai sucked in a huge breath of air, mirthful tears streaming down his face. He was utterly wrecked, and the redhead was loving the sight of it.

“I think,” he said at last, “I want you to take me somewhere really nice for dinner. As a bonus Christmas present.”

“Okay,” Dazai said instantly, a clear indicator that he was well and truly done with tickles for the day. “Wherever you want. Just name it.”

“Good.” Chuuya smirked, brushing his partner’s bangs from his face. “And if you’re really good, I’ll reward you for it afterward. Yeah?”

Dazai’s eyes widened, but then it seemed to register what the mafioso was implying and he smirked right back. “Yeah. I like the sound of that.”

[gabessquishytum]

Wrote this in my notes first in case it gets lost, bc ive sent asks into ur box a couple of times before and i didnt think they sent? So;

Inspired by a pwp fic from the GO fandom, dub con where Dream's a hotshot CEO who's office is in the penthouse floor of the building, and Hob's the window washer.

Dream's got the whole exhibitionism thing, so imagine he regularly fucks himself in his office chair, legs spreads on the armrests facing the world. He's always assumed nobody could see him, I mean. No cameras in the office and hes on the 83rd floor on one of the highest skyscraper in the city, who's looking, right? He gets a kick out of the FEELING of being impossibly watched though, and it makes him cum harder than he ever could in any club or orgy. Hes usually so into it that hes not paying any actual attention to the wide open windows he's got his holes facing, so he doesnt notice when somebody...finally DOES see.

The exterior of the windows get washed on a twice every 3 months basis, on a rotation. Its a dangerous, expensive job, so theres not a lot of guys on hire and its usually the same ones. What Im trying to say is Hob's been doing this a long time and hes good at what he does. He usually gets to see Dream, even if the CEO doesnt notice him right back, and he has to admit he has a lil crush on the guy (I mean who wouldn't). Some new kid gets into a Fall and the schedule gets fucked up without Dream knowing and Hob gets the full Dream Holes treatment.

Dream doesnt notice him there practically the whole time. Hob's taken his phone out and he's recorded the almost the whole thing, every moan and orgasm and flex of muscle and flesh. He just plans to keep it to himself and jack off with it, but on the last second Dream opens his eyes and they lock eyes and he freezes like a cornered animal.

Hob raises his eyebrows. Mouths "dont let me stop you.", one hand holding a phone up and recording the other hand fondling the bulge on the front of his pants. Dream takes one look at the obscene tent the front of hsi pants and cums so hard he squirts and stains the windows. Hob smirks.

Something something Hob blackmails him with the video to let Hob fuck him on a regular basis. Maybe in the office itself. It'll certainly tick a kink off right both of their lists.

Omg hi!! So sorry your messages haven't been getting through before now, that's super annoying. Please feel free to message me at any time in the future if you're wondering whether I got your ask or not. I know it can feel a bit anxious wondering what happened to your message <3

Anyway: this is amazing and I am. EXTREMELY into it. I got a little happy wiggle thinking about Dream squirting onto the window, hoooly shit.

Hob is such a dirty bastard omg. Like he may clean those windows until they shine but he is FILTHY. He's got absolutely no qualms about filming that video in the first place, and then using it as blackmail material. He's just never seen such a pretty cunt, and he wants to remember it. And if Dream didn't want him to see those lovely holes then why'd he show them off like that?

Dream isn't going to admit it but he's enjoying this blackmail thing waaay more than he should. It's been a long time since he had a decent dick inside him, and he knew ever since he saw the bulge that Hob would be big. Dream takes great satisfaction in pushing Hob down into his leather desk chair and climbing onto his cock to ride. He's got a lot of frustration to work out and Hob is the perfect solution. His big hands go around Dream’s waist just right, and his cock hits places that no one else ever has. Plus he can be quiet. And he makes sure that Dream is quiet, too. Stuffs a pair of panties or a tie in his mouth if necessary.

Dream is working on persuading Hob to fuck him on the mechanical platform he uses for the window cleaning business. Hob argues that whole city could see them. Dream counters that that's the whole point.

[middlechild404]

Flying over the Atlantic

Alone. 

Five letters 

Three vowels. 

A word that describes a  physical state where you are physically by yourself. 

A word that I wouldn't use to describe myself. 

Lonely.

Six letters.

Two vowels. 

A word that describes an emotional state where you feel disconnected from others. 

A word that I would use to describe myself. 

But, all it would take to make me stop is to book a flight from Los Angeles to London and sit next to an enlightening man 35000 feet in the air. 

Statistics show that there is a 2% chance to find love on a plane. My chances were very low. Thankfully, the odds were in my favor. 

I loved to travel. It was a way for me to take a break from life and reset my energy. But, I didn't like sitting next to someone for the next 11 hours who would be shaking his gigantic leg the entire flight. 

This man was so big that my seat that was attached to his was shaking too. I was trying to concentrate on my book, but my tired eyes and the shaking made it impossible. 

In my head, I was cursing at him and making him stop. However, I was never the confrontational type. I always took the high road. Hence, I kept my mouth shut and kept trying to read my book. 

His leg finally stopped shaking. But before I could have some satisfaction he spread his legs wide enough for one of them to touch my leg. He was in my space. I hated it when people were in my space. He didn't move. I didn't move. I felt this burning sensation of discomfort where his leg was touching mine. This time I couldn't keep my mouth shut. 

“Sir?” I said loud enough for him to hear me. 

He didn't budge. He didn't even turn to look at me. Therefore, I managed to nudge him with my leg which got his attention, as he turned to face me. One could barely see his face with the cap and sunglasses. 

“Sir?” I said again with more aggression in my tone while I was burning holes in his leg with my eyes. 

He kept quiet and stared at me for a second. Then, he moved around in his chair to find a comfortable position. 

I only got to read one page from my book before he gave up on shuffling around in his seat. 

“Sorry mam, but there is literally no place for my legs to go, and I can't find a comfortable position to sit in for the next 11 hours.” He said apologetically. 

I don't know where my courage or rudeness came from, but I managed to let words I would've never said slip my mouth. “Well, maybe you should've gotten yourself in first class.” 

He thought I was a bitch. I thought I was a bitch. We were both shocked at my remark. 

“I am so sorry, I didn't mean..I am so sorry. I don't know what got into me. I'm not usually like this. I think I'm getting my period soon. Sorry again, that was too much information. I talk too much...  ” I kept apologizing and scrambling for words, while a smile grew on his face. 

“I tried” He managed to slip between my endless rambling with a chuckle. 

I fell silent, looking at him to continue. 

“I booked last minute and it was fully booked, so I had to get bumped here.” He said with a shrug. 

“Sorry that you had to be stuck in these trashy seats then.” I said, waving around the area where his legs were. 

“No need to be sorry, this place is less trashy now that I have a beautiful girl to keep me company for the rest of the flight.” He said charmingly. 

A blush grew on my entire face. I'm pretty sure I turned into a tomato, earning me another chuckle. I was speechless. I was never good at receiving compliments. Hence, why I only gave him a nod and kept reading my book. Although, I could still feel his eyes on me. 

“Oliver Twist huh, you don't see many people walking around with that book in their hands these days.” He pointed out, drawing my attention from the book I've read too many times. 

“Yeah well, Charles Dickens just hits different” I answered. 

“I would've pegged you more of a Colleen Hoover fan than someone that many in our generation feel is outdated.” He stated. 

“well I am a Colleen Hoover fan, but it's completely idiotic to claim that Charles Dickens is outdated.” I said.

We fell silent again, while simply staring at each other. “Is it better to have had a good thing and lost it, or never to have had it?” He blurted, quoting Charles Dickens from his book Our Mutual Friend.

“Are you a Charles Dickens fan too?” I asked curiously. 

“Yep, see we have something in common. We should probably just skip to our wedding.” He joked. 

He stretched out his hand for me to shake while introducing himself. “I am Jack Harlow.” I introduced myself hesitantly, knowing that I recognized his name. 

“Ahh, a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” He flirted.

This time I managed to get a word out, but unfortunately, the tomato issue was still in need of work. “Charming”. 

“I wouldn't have thought that a famous rapper like you would take an interest in Charles Dickens.” I teased. 

He simply laughed as he looked around making sure that nobody heard the famous rapper part. When he noticed that the coast was clear he took off his glasses, revealing the most beautiful ocean eyes. People say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and his soul was drawing me in. If I had looked a bit longer, I would've drowned. 

I cleared my throat, taking myself out of my trance just in time to hear his question. “So what would your answer be to the quote I said before?”

“Wow, you just jump into the deep questions, don't you? People usually start with what are your hobbies.” I stated jokingly. Earning another chuckle. 

“Anyway to answer your question, I would've chosen to have had a good thing and lost it. Isn't that what life is all about? I mean everything you go through ends up shaping you as a person, and the more you go through, the more you learn about yourself.” I added. 

He nodded approvingly at my answer. 

“I knew I liked you, how about we skip to just having children by now.” He reasoned with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

I playfully hit his arm and from there our conversation flowed. It's so interesting finding a stranger that you feel you've known your whole life. 

He was just perfect, the more we talked the more I could feel those walls I had all those years crumble and fall to the ground. For the first time in forever, I felt like someone got me. He listened and paused before giving his thoughtful opinion. At this point, we knew everything about each other. Nine hours had managed to fly by, as we were talking for what only felt like an hour. 

“So what are your plans here Mr. Harlow, are you going to London for business or pleasure?” I pondered with a playful tone. 

“I was initially here for business but if I get to spend some time with you it will be both.” He answered with a smirk. 

“Then we better make sure that you have some pleasure, it would be a shame to travel all this way only for business” I answered with my newly found confidence. 

We resumed our talks about everything and nothing. We even threw in weird questions every now and then like “If your parachute were to fail, would you rather land on solid ground or in water?” or “Would you rather be a kangaroo or a koala?”. 

Before we knew it, we had landed safely and were already moving to the baggage claim. He was such a gentleman, insisting on carrying my things and picking up my very heavy bag from the baggage carousel. 

We stood at the exit and exchanged numbers to keep in touch. 

“How about we meet at this location at 8 pm?” He asked while pointing at his phone. 

“At eight?!? That's in an hour!” I exclaimed, knowing that I would never make it in time. 

“Aaand?? You will make it. I'm sure of it. If you want, we can make it interesting.” He said with a mischievous grin. 

I nodded hesitantly, wanting to know what he had in mind. 

“How about we strike a deal? If you get late then you lose and have to do whatever I want to do for the rest of the evening, and if you win and get there in time then I'll have to do whatever you want for the rest of the evening. This will surely motivate you more to come on time.” He explained. 

“Okay, fine” I said intrigued. “Let's seal the deal for this challenge.” I continued as I stretched my hand for him to shake. 

Instead, he pulled me in by my hand as his lips crashed on mine. I couldn't help myself from threading my fingers through his curls as he kept pulling me impossibly closer to him. The butterflies in my stomach were getting crazier by the second. 

Once we pulled apart completely breathless he managed to say “Now that's how you seal a deal.”

He quickly looked at the time, reminding me that time was ticking. He started backing away to one of the taxis as I was doing the same. 

Before he hopped in the cab, he shouted “Best believe I'm going to win this!”

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

Hiiiyaaa lovies, know it's been a while. Many of you have been asking me if I still write and I do. It just takes me some time to post because I've been very uninspired lately, and I don't want to post anything I'm not satisfied with. Buuuuttt, watched a movie yesterday that was called Love at first sight, and it just got the ideas flowing. Plus I wanted to post something on my bday. Hope you like it and stay tuned for more🥰🥰

Taglist: @jackharloww, @j-worlds-blog @itsyagirljaz, @harlowcomehome, @neon-lights-and-glitter

[dripsoupp]

In honor of ao3 being down 🫡 i give yall…

CHAPTER 1 of God’s Plan (1.7k words)

main pairing: Lloyd/Javier

tags: time travel, mlm, minor original characters, dual pov

Back in time

All was going as planned. Developments were swiftly underway and some new cargo was set to arrive in a few days. Lloyd couldn’t help but grin himself silly. Things were finally looking up, looking stable. About damn time! A hum escaped his mouth, satisfaction plastered on his face.

He shouldn’t get too comfortable though if his past life was of any remembrance and indication. It’s at times like these where he should work himself to the bone. To ensure his future. His life. His wealth.

This was no time to slack off. Lloyd was ready. Ready for whatever life had to throw at him. He would face it head-on.

He and Javier were entering the manor when a sudden alert came through. He was used to randomly seeing them but this one was different. Instead of its usual blue or red color, it was purple.

Ding!

[You have been selected to carry out three major ‘canon event’ tasks. Denial of participation costs 179 RP points but a successful completion rewards you x100 your current points. Would you like to participate?]

“What’s this? So suddenly?” Lloyd muttered under his breath. No, the system had always been random. He was used to expecting the unexpected. He glanced over his current RP points and laughed. He had exactly 179 points. If he were to reject the offer he would be left with zero but if he were to accept and complete it…179 multiplied by 100 would be, what, 179000 points? Whoa. He’d be able to do so much with that amount.

Still, he needed to make the best decision. He didn’t have much and couldn’t risk it all for some PR points. Or could he?

“Can’t I at least know what the three tasks are?” Lloyd asked curiously.

Ding!

[Nope! Haha.]

He frowned, “Tsk, I should’ve known…”

“Master Lloyd, is everything alright?” Javier, who was holding the door open, asked. Mild concern was painted over his striking features. Though if anyone else saw his knight, they wouldn’t know any better. He and Javier had been around each other so much so that he could, without fault, read him like the back of his hand.

He didn’t want to explain himself so he shrugged, “Yup, let's get going. Dinner’s getting cold.” Lloyd prompted himself to decide after eating. A full stomach made for better decisions, no? That’s what he said but a voice in the back of his head kept nagging at him. He took in a deep breath and opened the message box again, forcefully pressing ‘Accept’.

Ding!

[Talk about having no self-control! (Laughs) – Anyway, your side quest journey has begun!]

This was it! Lloyd continued walking as the messages kept popping up. The waning light of the sun fully disappeared as he entered the manor. The door shut with a force behind him.

Ding!

[RP System is being updated. You can now earn RP points by correctly following the given steps. Failure to do so will result in ‘???’]

Lloyd nodded, urging the system to continue.

Ding!

[Current RP Total: 179]

That was the last message he saw standing up.

Lloyd’s surroundings turned blurry as he fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Both his arms and legs turned to jelly, heavy almost. His vision tunneled and his eyes threatened to close shut on him. Shit! He shouldn’t have trusted that fucking system!

His breaths came out ragged, Lloyd didn’t know when it had become nearly impossible to breathe. Shit shit shit! Speaking took extra strength, and his voice threatened to crack but he forced words to come out, “Javier...” His whisper went unheard as his bodyguard also crashed next to him. Or at least it sounded like he did. Lloyd couldn’t even crack his neck to the side to reassure himself.

If his knight had spoken back to him, he didn’t hear. He could barely hear his own heart throbbing in his chest. Unconsciousness took over his body as a terrible headache throbbed its way into his head. ‘Is this how I die? No way.’

One final notice came through before he passed out. Barely audible.

Ding!

[Good luck Lloyd. You’ll need it.]

Lloyd was ready for whatever life had to throw at him, right?!

Lloyd awoke in his bed with a jolt, his bedroom looking the same, nothing out of the ordinary. Birds chirped outside as the sun shone through his window.

Had everything been a realistic dream? His throat was a bit dry but aside from that he patted himself down, and he felt pretty damn alive. In fact– he felt light. Too light actually…

He instinctively called out for Javier. His voice sounded foreign to his ears but that wasn’t what concerned him the most. His knight, his most trusted person, was nowhere in sight.

Whatever, maybe he was taking a shit or something. Lloyd shook his head, he wasn’t some baby that needed his knight after a stupid nightmare. He wasn’t…

He leaned back into his pillows but something still didn’t sit well with him. Lloyd’s eyes widened as he finally felt it. His chest wasn’t heavy. It was very very light.

Always, his summons would sleep right on top of his chest. Always. Ppodong had started that trend and the rest of the summons followed suit. Lloyd gritted his teeth the first few times they did so but quickly accepted his fate. His user manual said to ‘treat them with kindness’ anyway.

“Guys? Are you playing hide and seek?” Lloyd began patting around the bed and finally looked down at his hands and began chuckling nervously. “Did I shrink overnight or something? Haha, this must be a joke.” His hands seemed to belong to those of a kid. A small fucking kid.

Something was wrong.

He rushed to the nearest mirror he could find and gasped. Staring right back at him was the ugliest fucking kid he had ever seen. “My god…” Okay, maybe the kid wasn’t the ugly one, but the facial expression he was making made him pretty fucking horrid.

He pinched at his cheeks, full of baby fat, and groaned at the pain. He wasn’t dreaming, this was the real deal. Lloyd’s mind ran. It began filling to the brim with theories.

The system's final words rang in his head, ‘Good luck Lloyd. You’ll need it.’

“By ‘good luck’, is this what you meant?!” Lloyd nearly pulled his hair out as he screamed, “GAH! DAMN YOU SYSTEM!”

The family’s physician burst through his bedroom door at his screams. Lloyd nearly gave himself whiplash as he turned to face him. The physician also looked younger, his hair still brown with only a few grays. A white coat hung from his shoulders and a smile bloomed over his stressed-ridden face. What was his name again? Damn, Lloyd couldn’t remember for the life of him.

“I thought my ears were deceiving me! Young Master Lloyd, you’re finally awake! I’ll be right back with the baron and baroness so get back in bed!”

And with that the physician left, leaving Lloyd to his thoughts again. Seriously, what was his name?!

“Did he say ‘Finally awake’?! Where is Javier?! Just what the hell is going on?! Hey stupid system! Mind filling me in?!” He dragged himself back to his bed and lay there.

Ding!

[You have been sent back in time to complete three major ‘canon event’ tasks for the recompense of 179000 RP points. Complete all tasks to successfully return to the present!]

“WHAT?!” Lloyd fell out of his bed, just what the hell had he gotten himself into?!

He took in a deep breath and analyzed the situation. Ignoring the whole 'time travel' thing, all he had to do was complete three easy tasks. Right. No biggie. “Alright! I have no time to waste. Let’s see, how hard can these tasks be…?”

Ding!

[First canon event: Destroy Javier’s precious wooden sword and maniacally laugh in his face!]

He dragged his hands down his face, “Shit.”

Lloyd didn’t even have enough time to process what his parents started saying once they frantically entered the room. Even as they hugged him tight, all he could think of was Javier. Javier, Javier, and Javier.

Were the three ‘canon events’ just Lloyd tormenting Javier three separate times? His chest tightened at that thought. Hopefully, he was wrong.

His parents left once they saw his complexion better. They were busy during this time of the year and Lloyd was thankful for that. He needed time to process, plan, and execute.

But this damn physician wouldn’t leave him alone.

“You heard what they said, right Young Master?” The physician asked for the millionth time. Lloyd couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “Yes, I heard them loud and clear.”

Little kids are stupid. The Original Lloyd surely would’ve drowned if it wasn’t for Javier’s rescue. What made a little kid who couldn’t even swim jump into a large body of water? Delusion maybe?

The physician still looked somewhat skeptical and Lloyd huffed, “I promise I won’t go anywhere near water.” Lloyd reassured. Even though he wasn’t the idiot who couldn’t swim, he still swallowed his non-existent pride and made empty promises.

"And?" The physician raised an eyebrow.

Lloyd sighed in a defeated tone, "And I'll thank Javier." It was the least he could do for the physician as he had nurtured him back to health.

The physician hummed, “Good.” He turned his back to Lloyd and began packing his medical stuff.

Fucking finally!

Ding!

[Good boy!]

Lloyd whispered, “Oh shut up.”

It was all the damn system's fault for not explaining things properly.

Ding!

[I just wanted to remind you that there’s a time limit on this task but, (sigh), it seems as if you want me to ‘shut up’.]

“I apologize. Please continue.”

Ding!

[Every task has a time limit. This one has a 48-hour limit. You were asleep for 28 hours. Do the math.]

48 minus 28 was 20. In other words, he had less than a day…

Lloyd swatted at the blue floating square in front of him. “Why didn’t you tell me beforehand?!”

Ding!

[I tried to but you were asleep!]

As if that were a good enough reason. First things first, he needed to find Javier. To make sure his stupid face was okay. Then his wooden sword and then– and then…

The door to his room slightly opened and someone peeked through. The action was done very discreetly but Lloyd still caught it. He dryly swallowed. Never mind, there was no need to look for the boy. It seemed as if Javier had come to him.