#and i actually watched knives out first

[benoits-neckerchieves]

Can’t believe it’s been a year since Glass Onion. I’m so grateful to that film for starting my Daniel Craig obsession. Never thought I’d ever watch James Bond, and definitely didn’t think that after a year I’d have seen 23 of Daniel’s films, including Knives Out, which is now my favourite film of all time. Feel like I need a new bio now, cause ‘in my Daniel Craig era’ feels a bit temporary, and this isn’t exactly a phase anymore lmao. Thank you Glass Onion!

[hetamata]

dead girls!!!

[sluckythewizard]

BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.

[piningpercussionist]

What's it even like at Ramona's place. Also is her cat cute and fluffy?

Well, it's not the most spacious place, for starters. Julie has us all beat on that I think, with Neil and Stephen's place coming second. Then maybe my place? I'm not really sure... DEFINITELY not Scott's.

But it's alright. Ramona knows what to do with the space she has, I think. And she just tucks whatever doesn't need out into her little bag that she's got, so there's never really any clutter, unless Scott's provided it. She's got, like, multiple stories to it? Like, one and a basement, or something- in addition to the ground floor, I mean. We've discussed playing down in her basement, sometimes, for practice? She seemed pretty receptive.

It's nice being over there. I dunno. She hasn't done a whole lot with it, but it's nicer hanging out there than it is here, usually. Wish she was less busy so I could come over more... I mean, I could visit Scott when he's there I guess, but it's not really the same. Besides, I wouldn't want Ramona to come back from work and have to chase me off to get some rest or something?

*Kim sort of snickers a little.* Or she'd come back to me trying to hide Scott's body. She doesn't deserve to deal with that.

Anway, more realistically, she's probably exhausted after running around all day, being the only Amazon delivery person in our area and all. Even if she was fine with me lingering, I'm not sure I want front row seats for the two of them being lovey-dovey or whatever. Gross.

And Gideon... Gideon is probably one of the cutest cats I've ever seen. I didn't really like cats too much before now, but I think I've been converted or something. He's just the sweetest thing, sometimes, and Ramona's managed to get him nearly completely desensitized to being picked up, held, moved around- he just genuinely doesn't care, so long as you aren't hurting him.

He's a short haired cat, I think, but he's super soft- Ramona tells me it's because we're always petting him. Something about the oils in our hands making his fur softer? I think I get the general idea there. His fur is like... deceptively dense though? You can sink your fingers in a little and muss it up if you want.

Heh. I don't recommend trying to mess with his stomach at all, though. Gideon's generally pretty forgiving, and doesn't really bite or scratch people from what I've seen at least, but one time Scott tried to give him belly rubs while he was all splayed out on the couch... the attack afterward was pretty tame so far as the initial strike went, but he got Scott good, and there was like... blood, everywhere. You'd think he nicked an artery or something, but no, it was just Scott doing what Scott does.

Is there some sort of like... thin-skinned or heavy bleeder debuff he's got or something? Or was it just him being a moron and splattering it everywhere? Anyway, Ramona had it handled pretty quickly, and tiredly, so that's probably something really typical for them.

[sharkieboi]

everyone’s talking all these sophisticated points about Glass Onion but i personally cannot get over the lingering camera shot on the ass of the statue Benoit hides behind to eavesdrop on Miles and Peg

[writerfromthestars]

DP X DC PROMPT: DANNY'S AN ASSASSIN?!

So Danny gets adopted by the Waynes somehow.

Now, he's a teenage vigilante, he knows all the signs. And he can clearly tell that Damian and Tim are sneaking out under the cover of night to fight crime as Robin and Red Robin.

While ordinarily this would lead to the connection between the Waynes being Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, and various other assorted vigilantes, that's not what we're here for, so instead, what happens is that Danny thinks that his two absolutely normal little brothers are sneaking out, meeting strange people dressed in spandex and Kevlar on rooftops, and punching criminals.

He has no issue with this.

The only issue he has is that Tim and Damian are inexperienced, I mean, Damian's twelve or something like that, he can't have been Robin for long. He's not particularly willing to get back into heroism himself, though, so this leads to him casually dropping random tidbits of information that only an ex-vigilante/hero/assassin/other part of the caped community, would know into regular conversation.

Like, if Tim's using bandages on his hand, Danny will suddenly drop the fact that that particular brand is very absorbent and works really well to take care of large, bloody wounds, like bullet holes in important places.

If Damian's reading a book about different knives, and their creation processes (because be real, he totally would) Danny will read over his shoulder a bit and then just point out a knife that would particularly good for stabbing someone in the stomach, or slitting someone's throat. (he knows this because of a. his rogues trying to kill him and b. Dan likes sharp things.)

The three of them are watching some superhero movie or something, and Danny goes on a twelve-minute rant about how the fight scenes would never work that way.

Tim and Damian come to the conclusion that their new brother has been trained by the League of Assassins or something.

Here's the issue. Danny hasn't.

So Damian starts dropping little hints that he knows that Danny was part of the League, for example a reference to a technique that only a League member would know. Danny, who has been trained in hand-to-hand by Dan, who was trained by dead League assassins in the alternate timeline, knows the moves.

Danny is just happy that his baby brothers are taking his advice, and opening up to him too. Damian is even starting to talk about fighting with him, and he thinks that they might actually tell him about their nighttime activities soon.

Finally, the two confront him on it. And by that, I mean that like the emotionally constipated bats they are, they utterly fail in their interrogation because they can't just come out and say it out in the open.

Tim: so Danny, I noticed how you know a lot about fighting. and first aid, and stuff.

Damian: I have noticed this as well. Might I inquire as to where you gained these skills?

Danny just thinks that they have figured out his past as a vigilante and that they are worried about him being hurt.

Danny: Don't worry about it. I don't do that type of thing anymore.

Now that's a deflection if Tim's ever heard it.

Damian, digging for more information: I wish to know. Maybe I can learn from whoever it was that taught you?

Danny grimaces slightly before answering.

Danny: Trust me, kiddo, you don't wanna learn from the people who taught me this stuff. They squash you like a bug.

Tim and Damian take this as confirmation that Danny was involve in the League. Danny just means that pitting his rogue gallery, which consists of exclusively ghosts, against living boys would be unfair.

[waestlandbaby]

Something that stood out to me in my aftg reread was how unhinged the upperclassmen actually are.

Matt fucking Boyd and his willingness to absolutely go at anyone, anywhere, any time. There's a scene where Kevin tells him to foul another player on the opposing team and Neil specifically points out the unrepentant grin he has on his face as he waltzes off court after it happens. He also is described as the best player on the foxes line up multiple times by Neil and his play style is aggressive, he uses his height and build to his advantage and he doesn't hold back.

Allison and Andrew have the exact same style of serving cunt, in that if you don't interest them they will not even acknowledge your existence. A player from another team attempted to score on the goal and both Allison and Andrew stood still and watched them miss with such bitchy indifference it probably gave that player ptsd. They also both have a habit of cutting through bullshit and demanding truth ESPECIALLY regarding topics other people would shy away from. Badass blonde bombshells.

Dan Wilds is just as rabid about Exy as Kevin and her every first thought goes to the game first just like Kevin. She's just better at making her second thought go to something else. She literally knew the second Seth was out of the picture that there was an opportunity there and she didn't even really hesitate to talk to Matt about it. She looked at Neil and whatever fucked up little thing he had going on with Andrew (as it would have looked to an outsider, let's remember that they all knew Andrew took him to Columbia and drugged him) and was like, how can we use this to make the team stronger. Like Nicky used Neil to manipulate Andrew but Dan did it better and with much more calculation.

Renee I don't even really need to talk about because Neil was always wary of her but there is one scene where Neil let's slip about his father's penchant for knives and Renee's reaction and understanding gave me chills. Renee uses that part of her to protect and that's really great because she would be terrifying otherwise.

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[I only have 30 pounds in my bank account] - Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Summary: You sigh when it's the fifth time someone fights in your poor tea shop this month. You just open it two months ago, in an area ruled by mafia called '141'. Maybe you should find their boss and give them money or what to stop the bullshit keeps happening in your shop. (well, here they come)

Mafia!TF141*F!Reader, but only Soap and Ghost in this chapter unless I extend this

chapter 2

You’re just trying to fulfill your dream, plus survive with the money you earn with your shop, but you start questioning if this is a good idea, maybe you should just listen to your friend and be a 9-5 worker, sitting in front of a laptop the whole day.

This isn’t a good location to open a tea shop, your little shop will rather become a place for dealing drugs or getting extorted in the first month. The area is fully ruled by the mafia, hence the cops couldn’t do anything here, but it makes the rent extremely low, which you’re able to afford with money you saved during school, and have a tiny shop that can barely squeeze in more than 8 people.

Looking at the scene playing in your shop for the fifth time this month, you stare at the people fighting and break the cup with dead eyes. You want to shout, to kick these guys' ass out of here or hit them with your broom, yet you glance at their muscles and the knives in their hand –  probably killing every day as work out, to your opposite one because you slump onto the bed once you close the shop and go upstairs, you choose to remain silent as the yelling only become louder.

Maybe you should find the mafia boss or some henchmen and give them half of your income to prevent the mayhem, but first, you don’t even know who actually rules this fucking place; second, you doubt they will have interest in your skimpy bank account. The only information you have is the mafia ruling here called ‘141’, since it’s an open secret to residents here.

“What are ye arseholes doin’?”

Fuck, here comes another one, or two as you spot the man with a balaclava behind the mohawk man who's speaking. They are tall, muscular and built like bricks. Grown like giraffes either, you complement when you need to crook your neck up to look at them stepping into your shop as if it's their backyard.

but the chaos halts immediately as you watch your ‘customers’ seem shocked with terror at the men.

You pretend you’re deaf and attempt to bury yourself in your counter. Please don’t kill me I didn’t hear a goddamn word and didn’t see you threatening them. You recite your defense as you scrub at the same tea cup till the distinct accent from the mohawk man catches you off guard that you almost drop it.

“I guess it’s already clean, lass.” A smirk appears on his face as he points at the cup.

“Wh– what do you want?” 

“Calm down, jus’ want te have some tea.”

“I only have 30 pounds in my bank account.”

“We’re just sayin’ we want tea.” The taller man speaks for the first time after coming in, and it startles you but forces your brain to function at the same time.

Ah, they aren’t here for money. You finally get what they’re talking about.

“Isn’t it supposed te be a tea shop here? One cup for him, and give me a cup of coffee.”

“Oh, of course. What kind of tea would you like, Sir?” You shift slightly to meet the other man’s eyes, and you want to shiver under his cold eyes.

“Just give him whatever you recommend.” 

They round over the glass scattering on the floor and take a seat closest to your counter after you nod at them.

While boiling the water, you sneak a glimpse at them, and the shape of guns covered by their clothes are unignorable as you scold yourself to stop looking at them, or the bigger guy might stab your eyes, but you still curse whole-heartedly in mind when the Scottish accent man meet your eyes with his azure ones and shines you a grin.

Should just quit staring, or you shouldn’t open this shop at all. Regretting your decisions as you turn back and focus back on making their drink, you’re able to recognize them staring at you from the periphery of your vision. Is it too late to kneel down and beg for your life right now?

You still perfectly make their orders and bring them the drinks, even though you’re sweating internally. At least don’t mess it up, and your confidence in your tea and coffee isn’t born from nothing, as you notice the man with the skull balaclava takes a sip first, then raises his eyebrow, added with a side glance at you.

“Haven’t seen him amazed by tea in years, it must be very good.” The mohawk man whistles as he sips at his coffee and gives an approving nod too.

“Thank you…” Your ego shouldn’t be boosted by mafias, but you still relax a bit knowing you didn't screwed up.

“When did ye open ‘is shop?” The man asks while the other continues drinking his tea, but seemingly taking in the conversation too.

“About two months ago."

"That’s why we didn't know about it before…” He taps at the table twice before shooting you another question “Got blokes like those in yer shop earlier often?”

Death sentence is served to your front, that’s what you think you hear. Is it better to say yes or no? Judging by the fact those people are their minions, you’re not sure if saying yes is indicating they haven’t controlled them appropriately.

“Tell us the truth” 

“Yeah, it’s the fifth time this month.” Swallowing, you confirm. Lies aren’t meaningful, and surely they’re able to pierce any veil with those scrutinizing stares and keen minds.

You watch them sharing a glance, and Soap takes out a pen along with a piece of paper, and starts scribbling on it.

“Here, call this number when you run in trouble, aye?" He shoves the paper into your grasp “I’m Soap, call him Ghost.”

"It’s a nice shop, we’ll come back soon.”

Your little shop drops into peace again as your customers leave, and you gaze at the generous tip lying on your counter, to the paper in your palm.

A number is written on it, with a big badge of ‘141’ beside it.

Oh shit, so your shop just became the most far-flung mafia’s property without you knowing.

[cockringhoratio]

i am filtering the glass onion tag i am filtering the glass onion tag i am filtering the glass onion tag

[moonyswoony]

A stitch in the heart

pairing: Diego hargreeves x reader

Summary: After Five’s betrayal you and Diego find unexpected comfort in each other.

Warning(s): making out, insults, humour

Your fingers trace the edge of the old, worn-out armchair, a painful reminder of all the moments you thought you once shared with him. A hollow feeling settles in your chest, and you can’t decide what hurts more—the betrayal or the fact that you actually hadn’t seen it coming.

The doorbell rings sharply, startling you from your thoughts. You hesitate before opening it, your heart sinking as you see Diego standing there. He had come straight from the Umbrella Academy’s chaotic mess, having heard about the situation from Klaus, who had filled him in on the details. Diego’s dark eyes are filled with frustration and concern as he steps into the apartment.

“I didn’t know he was that stupid,” Diego says, his voice rough with a mix of irritation and empathy. His short brown hair is slightly tousled, and his mustache gives him a rugged, determined look.

You scoff, biting back the tears that threaten to spill. “Neither did I. But hey, at least I’m not the one who’ll be dodging flying knives for a while.”

Diego’s jaw clenches, the muscles working under his skin as he processes your pain. He had always been the protector, the one to throw himself into danger without a second thought, but this was different. He couldn’t punch Five without making things worse—without hurting you even more.

“He’s an idiot,” Diego mutters, stepping closer. His presence is like a comforting weight, a reminder that not everyone in this messed-up world would abandon you. “And if he wasn’t, I’d be happy to throw him off a building for you.”

You look up at him, trying to find solace in his words, but the wound was too fresh, too deep. “You’re way too good at the ‘throwing people off buildings’ thing, Diego. I’d hate to see what you could do if you really put your mind to it.”

Diego’s jaw twitches into a reluctant smile. “Trust me, I’ve got a lot of practice. But this isn’t about me or Five or Lila. This is about you.”

“You mean it’s not about making sure Five ends up face-first in the dirt?” you ask, a hint of sarcasm in your voice.

He shakes his head, his expression serious again. “Look, I know you’re hurting. And I’m not saying Five isn’t a jerk—he is. But you don’t deserve to be dragged down by his mistakes.”

A heavy silence sits between you, filled with unspoken words and the shared history that ties you both to the people who had hurt you. Diego has his own scars, the ones Lila had left on his heart. He knew betrayal, maybe as well as you did.

“Lila…” you began, but Diego cuts you off.

“She’s not worth it,” he says sharply, his tone brooking no argument. “And neither is he.”

His words are a balm, a gentle reminder that you aren’t alone in your pain. You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day begin to lift, if only slightly.

Diego’s hand finally finds its way to your shoulder, a tentative touch that sends a shiver down your spine. His fingers, rough but warm, rest gently on your skin. “You don’t have to go through this alone, you know.”

You look up at him, really look at him. The scars, the bruises, the lines of worry etched into his features—Diego had always been there, in the background, watching out for you even when you didn’t realize it.

“I’m sorry about Lila,” you whisper, not really sure why you’re apologizing. Maybe because it feels like you should, because your pain is linked to his in a way you hadn’t expected.

Diego shakes his head, his expression softening. “Don’t be. That chapter’s over. Has been for a long time.”

There’s something in his eyes, something that made your heart skip a beat. He’s not lying, he had moved on. But from the way he’s looking at you, you wonder if he had been waiting for you to realize you needed to move on too.

And maybe… maybe with him.

“Diego,” you breathe, the air between you crackling with a sudden tension, a shift that makes your heart race for an entirely different reason.

His fingers tighten on your shoulder, his gaze dropping to your lips for the briefest moment before returning to your eyes. “If you ever want to forget about him,” he says, voice low and intense, “I’m right here.”

The world seemed to narrow down to the space between you, the inches that felt like miles. Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest. This was the Diego you knew so well—hotheaded, stubborn, fiercely loyal Diego. The man who had been by your side through thick and thin, who was willing to pick up the pieces of your heart when they fell apart.

You take a step closer, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palm. His eyes darken, and he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. The tension between you is palpable, like the air before a storm.

Then, as if on cue, he closes the gap between you two.

The kiss is urgent, his lips surprisingly soft as snow.It all feels like a desperate attempt to make something beautiful out of the wreckage of the day.

The kiss deepens, growing more fervent as you both lose yourselves in the heat of the moment. Diego’s hands roam to your back, pulling you impossibly closer, his embrace enveloping you completely. His lips move with a new, careful intensity, exploring your mouth with a touch of tenderness and need.

After a few moments, Diego pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes sparkle with a playful glint, and he gives a light-hearted chuckle. “You know,” he smirks “Before Lila came along and turned everything upside down, I actually had a crush on you.”

You look at him, surprised and amused. “Seriously? You had a crush on me?”

Diego nods, grinning. “Yep, and I guess I was so busy trying to play the tough guy that I didn’t realize honesty might’ve worked out better. But hey, Five and Lila didn’t exactly set the bar high, did they?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “True, true. It’s not like they made the most convincing case for keeping things simple.”

Diego chuckles, pulling you closer again. “Exactly. And honestly, if I’m better at anything, it’s being upfront about my feelings.”

You smile, feeling the warmth of his words and the comfort of his embrace. “I guess that’s something I can definitely appreciate.”

Diego leans in for another kiss, his lips brushing against yours with renewed fervor and for the first time in a while, the future feels like something worth fighting for.

[etesians]

“I’ve just had a thought.”

Kei looks up from his phone, eyes drooping, the hour you’ve spent lounging on the couch rendering him immune to the fact that his neck is bent at a disastrous angle against the armrest. It has you pulling him forward, taking the pillow from under your neck to stuff under his, but it’s a fine trade. Now you can lay against the warmth of his chest and settle into what Kei calls the pre-nap—or, what he used to call it, back when he was still too embarrassed to simply say that he wanted cuddles.

“Woah, careful there," he can't pass up the opportunity to start with. Then, "Good kind or bad kind?”

You hum. “Sickeningly domestic kind.”

“So… good,” he decides after a beat, setting his phone down on the coffee table.

Those long, gentle fingers you love slide into your hair, and it’s a wonder how they always sate an itch that only manifests itself mere seconds before the touch, just so they can be rubbed away by him and him alone; suspiciously wizard-like. “It’s not like I’m opposed to any of that. Since it’s you.”

Aww.

“Honeycakes—” you coo obnoxiously, disguising his name in the endearment, which gets you exactly what you'd expect—the full moon's circumference of his palm eclipsing your vision, his grip light as he smushes your face around for a while, unable to rid himself of the urge. When he lets go a minute later, you share a look of mirrored contentment, all stupid smiles and rolling eyes, before you settle your ear over his heart and he resumes massaging your scalp.

Whatever video he was watching drones on in the meantime. Something about a supermoon coming up and dropping temperatures… Partly rainy with a high of seventy-three degrees and a low of sixty-eight degrees and—wow, he really got sucked into watching the weather channel... But it’s quiet enough to tune out against the steady drum in his ribs, so you both leave it be.

“Your idea, baby.”

“Oh, right. So I was thinking—y’know, when we start buying stuff for the house…”

“Mmhm?”

“For utensils, what if we found the same forks you grew up using, and the same spoons I had, so that our future kid'll have pieces of both of our childhoods already built into theirs? Our own little mismatched set.” "You're right..." It's quiet for a moment. Then Kei blows out a breath, his mind positively sunnier with the image. “That is sickeningly domestic.”

You open your mouth to defend the idea—because it is a good idea, notes-app worthy, even—when he tacks on, “I’m not saying no. God, you’re just so cute sometimes...” the words followed up by him pulling on your cheek. “Is that why you kept hovering by the drawer when we visited my mom? ‘What if’ my ass. You already found them on google, didn't you?”

Your laugh gives you away. He’s right—they’re in your amazon shopping cart as you speak, just waiting on his two cents.

“What about chopsticks, then? And knives. And spatulas.”

Spatulas?

Kei only shrugs in response.

“The rest can be new. I don’t want all of it to be us holding onto old things,” you pause. “But my star curtains are non-negotiable.”

“They have holes.”

“Those are the cutouts! And you even said they were pretty when the light’s seeping through them.”

“Okay, yes, they are pretty," he relents, setting his glasses down by his phone. Silencing the weather report with a slide of his thumb. “But furnishings aside, we’d still be missing one thing…”

“Tsukishima Kei, I know exactly what you’re gonna say…” You find yourself being rolled onto your back, his pupils pushing the golden-brown of his irises to the outer rims as they dilate. “And the answer is no.”

“What?” Kei smirks, almost sing-songy as he trails kisses down your collar. He’s not actually gunning for that part of your life together yet. Key word—yet. You’d both agreed to preserve the first year of your marriage for just the two of you. Figuring out the ins and outs of buying a house together and all the legalities that came with it had been hard enough on its own.

Everything after your one-year anniversary, though, is completely fair game.

“You’re the one who brought up a little Tsukishima…”

[lonelystarrs]

𝑫𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝑻𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉.

𝗧𝗼𝗷𝗶 𝗭𝗲𝗻’i𝗻 𝘅 𝗙𝗲𝗺𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

His gambling and betting habits often got himself into situations he’d rather not be in, it’s what landed him here at this stupid Halloween party with his utter goof of a girlfriend, but there were plans hiding under that ridiculous outfit.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI + smut + crack + size kink + ghostface! Toji + whip use + switch reader + mean Toji + public sex +

4.7k smut fic • I am unwell • enjoy my terrible humour. Kinktober

Part Two: Maid Zen’in

You thought you were real fucking funny didn’t you? Turning up in that ridiculous outfit.

Gojo was already cackling and elbowing Toji in the side.

“It’s hilarious, you sure got a keeper huh Zen’in?”

Toji rolled his eyes, thick shoulders hunching more and biceps bulging from his arms crossed. His ghostface mask sitting on the side of his head so he could literally drink his way out of this.

“Gotta admit, I still would.”

“Yeah? Feel free.” Toji sneered, trying so hard not to watch you but it was hard not to, you were busting out moves on the dance floor and because of the air filled suit, the moves were impossible to actually see them.

No matter where he looked, he could see the air filled horn bobbing around above the heads of others in the crowd of people at the club, the laser lights illuminating to the music as you danced with no care in the world amongst a group of people.

You said you were coming as a murderous unicorn, which was ridiculous enough, but what you were wearing was anything but fucking murderous, maybe to Toji’s ego and pride. The mane was rainbow, the white blow up body suit you had on filled with air and a pair of heels.

Fucking designer, red bottom strappy heels, in that costume.

“Yo, Zenin, isn’t that your girl?”

“No.” Toji denied it many times this evening, even though those asking knew otherwise.

Gojo cackled again, elbowing Suguru who joined the conversation as he watched you moving on the dance floor having far too much fun for your own good, the air filled suit making you move in a way that was fucking hilarious to the six eyes.

Toji knew why you were doing it, because you’d gotten into a argument this morning and he’d made a snide remark about something he didn’t even remember quite frankly, either way you’d fallen out and had been giving him the cold shoulder all day. Even meeting him here instead of coming with him.

Now though he was glad for the distance, soon as he seen you he couldn’t help but think thank fuck he walked into this club alone. He just had to bear witness to you flirting with the bouncers as they bantered with you about your outfit.

He wore a black tight muscle shirt, with black jeans, a holster on his chest with two big hunting knives either side and a ghost mask.

He looked like a threat, like something suitable for Halloween, you just looked like a girl living her princess dream prancing around like a pony. It was your whole idea coming to this thing in the first place and the only reason he was going was because he lost a bet with you, his damn gambling habit presenting her karma for him finding any opportunity to bet irresistible.

“Eh, she is sure giving it beans with those dance moves.” Satoru couldn’t help himself, his eyes were twinkling with amusement, he couldn’t stop watching you.

“I’m surprised you came, Toji, not usually your kind of thing.” Suguru at least was less bothersome on the topic.

“Oh look she’s on her way over!”

It was embarrassing watching you waddle through the crowds, beaming a smile that was only making his jaw clench and when you eyed him, giving him a flirty look of acknowledgment before changing your pace to a flirty strut, Toji nearly walked away.

“Hey handsome, do you wanna feed the pony?”

Gojo Satoru lost it beside you, bellowing a laugh at your over the top flirtation and even Suguru started to laugh.

“-cause you make me so hooooorny T.”

Your hands lifted to flick the bobbling horn on your head and Toji grabbed his mask pulling it back over his face before storming off to the bar again. Leaving Gojo to strut up to you and smack a hand on your shoulder in some kind of praise, perhaps he should just let you both date.

Perfectly suited for each other and the six eyes did have a thing for you, the sulking for two weeks after Toji first claimed you as his girl was enough of a clue. Let alone the remarks Satoru made towards you, his eyeballing and offering to date you instead of Toji.

But you’d always refused.

And he was kinda glad, as odd as it could be at times you did bring some fun to Toji’s life, a perfectly grown women when needed but that side of you that had zero ability to be embarrassed was troublesome, but at times entertaining. He could banter with you in a way he couldn’t with females usually and you only dished it back.

But the sex, fuckkkk the sex. You were insatiable and you’d even made his eyes almost cross a few times, how you sucked his cock was unworldly and lucky for him you couldn’t get enough of doing it.

Toji took a seat at the bar, ordering a strong whiskey to try give him some hope on getting through this evening with some sanity, how long he was sat there he didn’t know, but being alone only gave the opportunity for girls to come up to him.

So you wanted to play huh?

He could play, perhaps make you regret trying to show him up like that.

He entertained it, a girl in an angle costume coming up, her tits out held by some flimsy looking material that Toji could so easily rip from her, some skimpy white skirt that was hiding nothing, white stockings on show and pretty blonde hair.

She wasn’t exactly horrifying, but this was what girls went for this time of year, not like he was complaining -he was a guy after all.

She twirled her finger around a strand of hair, battering her eye lashes at him.

“You’re like, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh yeah?” Toji smirked, turning in his seat to face her, giving her the once over, “—how so?”

Toji played it clever, soaking up the praise instead of giving it just because if you were looking you’d be none the wiser. As much of a woman jumper as he used to be Toji was loyal when treated well, and treated well by you he certainly was.

The blonde reached out to trace a finger on his muscles, dragging an acrylic nail down the line between his bicep.

“You’re huge-“

“So I’ve been told,”

“Anything else big about you?”

Toji chuckled tilting his head to her when she bravely gripped his arm and squeezing the bicep, just as he was about to say that’s enough a riding crop slammed down between them, hitting the bar with enough force everyone sat there spun around.

“Hey angel face, he flexing his muscles for you hmm? He’s such a show off, thought I trained him better than that.”

Toji knew that tone, the kind that made him lay back let you ride him until you were spent, the kind that kinda made him melt a little inside for you —not like you’d ever, in a million fucking years, know that.

Green eyes turned to meet you, expecting to see you in that ridiculous blow up unicorn suit, instead it was gone and suddenly he was wondering where the hell it was so he could put it back on you to stop the amount of looks you were getting.

Stood there with the lights dancing around you in leather chaps with studs, a leather bra with a body harnesses a fucking pink gag horse bit dangling down your neck resting between your collar bones and bright red lipstick, hair into a clean, high ponytail with a crop in hand.

And he knew his dick was gonna be under those red bottomed heels this evening.

You had a black, glittery horn on your head that had red glitter spilling down it that imitated blood, along with make up running down your forehead in red glitter.

This was your damn take on a murderous unicorn?

The blonde went to open her mouth, but you beat her to it, pressing the crop under her chin and closing it for her.

“Shh, this guy-“ you stepped forward and Toji reached for you, standing behind you as he pulled you in, a large hand made its way around your neck to grip it from behind “-he doesn’t fuck angels, he’s too corrupt for that.”

The smirk that spread over his face was nasty, tilting your head back into his chest and pressing his lips to yours, going straight for your bottom lip with his teeth and pulling.

He felt you moan against his tongue as it swiped your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Playin’ a dangerous game comin’ out like this doll,”

“Yeah?”

Toji hummed whilst kissing you upside down again,

“Yeah, s’get outta here-“

“Or-“ you span around in his arms, leaned up to him and brushed your lips against his, “-we can use the private room back there for VIP.”

Toji rose an eyebrow at you, you only grinning at him and grabbing his hand to lead the way through the groups of people until you both reached a gold door, the bouncer there nodded at you and Toji rose an eyebrow.

Since when did you know people on that level to only be acknowledged through nodding?

Your back hit the door the moment it shut and Toji was on you within seconds, hand gripping your neck and squeezes it in the way he knew made your cunt clench, choking you lightly whilst tilting your head up to him feeling your little moan on his palm against your throat.

“What you got goin’ on in that head of yours sweetheart? I ain’t stupid.”

You shrugged, “-nothing really, but I am wondering if you wanna make a lil bet again.”

Toji rose an eyebrow, leaning back slightly to look around the room, it wasn’t huge, the seats were black trimmed with gold in a booth shape with a small table off to the side.

“Keep talkin’”

“I’m thinking, you let me take control and if you lose it I win.”

Toji snorted a laugh, “-you won’t even get my cock in that tight lil cunt without my help doll, you think you’re gonna manage with me just sitting back?”

“If I need your help, then I lose.”

He released you and stepped back until he let himself slump back onto the booth, spreading his legs and his arms across the top of the booth, one hand reaching down to unbuckle his belt and undo the button to his jeans, pulling the zipper down. His skin tight top riding up showing the lines of his V that lead to a cock too big for most girls to handle. The black pubic trail of hair also leading a line down into his boxers.

“C’mon then sweetheart, it’s all yours.”

He was snide, cocky with how he was sat spread out and you smirked at him stepping forwards, pressing the crop under his chin and tilting it up to you looking down on him, his green eyes glazed with sly intention, his smirk only aiding it.

“You’re not allowed to touch me, clear?”

Toji rolled his eyes and shrugged “-whatever you say, boss. You’ll be begin’ for me too long before I need to.”

Toji’s eyes widened when you actually smacked the crop across his face, anger filtered through him briefly at you having the fucking balls to even think you’d get away with it, but when he looked back at you, eyes half hooded with some kind of pissed off look he only felt his cock throb. The leather you wore was glistening in the low lights, hugging every curve and pressing your tits up perfectly.

“Less snark, Zen’in, it’s boring me.”

Holy shit —fuck you were still surprising him 2 years into this damn relationship, how the hell had you hidden this from him? You had attitude, that was never hidden and fucking it outta you was borderline impossible, but it didn’t mean keeping you fucked dumb didn’t work until you got bratty again.

He glared at you, hands balling into fists and his jaw clenched, the red welt forming on his cheek as he held eyes with you.

“Don’t push it,”

“I plan to, Toji, or do you feel yourself losing patience already? Might be an easy win for me after all.”

You litt-

Toji groaned, his stomach tensing as the ball of your foot pressed into his semi hard dick only encourage it to harden under it, his hips rolled and his head tilted back, keeping eyes with you as you watched his reaction.

“Been thinking about sucking you off all night, my mouths watering over it T.”

“As said doll, it’s all yours.”

You hummed and stepped forward, pulling his jeans down just enough to free his dick as it slapped against his stomach, pre drooling from the tip into the deep lines of his six pack.

“You’re drooling already, Toji.”

He watched as you lowered yourself between his legs, bending forward to run your tongue between the lines of his six pack collecting pre on your tongue, teasingly running it around the head of his dick not touching it directly, only grazing the tip with the underside of your tongue. Your eyes never leaving his as your placed your hands on his thighs.

“That’s it-“ Toji sucked in air, his muscles tensing under your tongue as he watched you, eyes focused on your tongue glistening with drool and pre.

You pressed a kiss to the underside of his head, peppering them down the length of him before your tongue pressed to the base and ran up to the tip again, letting a glob of spit drip to cover it. His cock flexed against his stomach, smearing the spit along his skin as it rested heavy on his stomach.

His eyes rolled back when you finally wrapped your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks and sucking before bobbing your head with your hand twisting, keeping to the top of his dick and moving your tongue around the head. His hips bucked, fingers digging into the booths padding to stop himself reaching out, cause all he wanted was to grip your hair and fuck your face like a fleshlight. See how watery your eyes got, watch the drool spilling down your chin, see how well your throat bulged out from his dick, pressing his hand against your throat to feel himself fucking you.

But he was a man of strong will, even if his toes were curling in his shoes as you worked his cock like a dream, the squelching of your mouth as spit started to dribble down his dick. You kept going in the same pattern, twisting your hand when it separated from your mouth bobbing and sucking him in, your tongue swirling around this head giving him constant friction.

“Gonna suck the cum outta me? Fuck -hah- shit doll, that your fucking plan?”

He felt you laugh on him, pulling away with a pop and drool down your cheeks, red lip stick smeared on your lips and his dick.

Your eyes all glassy and panting lightly looking at him with fuck me eyes and his heart thumped against his rib cage, kicking away in a flutter that only pissed him off. He knew he liked you, way too fucking much for his own sanity and it pissed him off that you got under his skin in a way he couldn’t get enough of.

But how you looked right now? Between his thick thighs, running your tongue up and down his big cock that looked so huge in your hands, staring at him with eyes like that, willingly making a mess of yourself on him?

Fuck it took everything in him to not reach out and kiss you stupid, to bury his cock into you and let you cum over and over on him in a love language only he could give.

You didn’t reply, instead you stood and placed your feet on the booth seat either side of him, then lifting your right to place beside his head, hovering your cunt over him as you ran two fingers over your clothed pussy.

“No Toji, that’s not my plan.”

He groaned when you pushed the material aside, letting him view your glistening cunt as it drooled with slick. He was half expecting you to let him touch you at this point, his cock flexing against his stomach as his own pre started to leak into his muscle lines again. Watching as one hand spread yourself open for him, the other rolling around your clit.

It was cruel how you moaned above him, it was mean as you pressed two fingers into your tight hole letting him watch you spread yourself open for him.

“You’re clenching around those fingers, they ain’t deep enough are they sweetheart? Trying to act like a little whore but you can’t fuck yourself like that, y’need me, so why don’t you just give in?”

Toji reached for his own cock, wrapping a fist around himself slowly stroking.

“-sit on my face, get that other leg up and put that pussy where it it belongs hmm? I’ll get you cummin’ how you like.”

Pulling your fingers back covered in slick you toyed with your clit again, hips rolling as you lowered yourself to his face.

“S’it baby, she needs my mouth hmm? I know what she needs-“

“M’gonna cum-“ Toji hid his sneer as he watched you pick up your pace, rolling your clit around your slick covered fingers and he could see your little hole clenching around nothing, fluttering as you came.

His nice attitude left him, sneering an insult under his breath as you cummed over his face, thinking he almost had you breaking the bet by caving first.

“Open your mouth T, I’ll let you catch it,”

Green eyes focused on the clear slick starting to drool from your fluttering hole, a link forming and he held his tongue out, letting the sweetness of you coat it.

“You’re so fucking hot, honestly.” Toji hummed at your praise and taste of you, your foot retreated from besides his head, falling to your knees either side of him, eyes all glassy and pretty, pink dusting across your cheeks.

Your hand reached down to grab his dick from his own hands, wrapping a hand around him and rubbing his head at your hole.

“You’re brave but you ain’t doin’ that without me. No fucking chance.”

You hummed and let your weight start to drop onto him, the stretch already too much as his thick head pushed through the tight ring of muscle, both moaning at the feel of it, your warmth starting to swallow him in.

He gave an airy chuckle when he seen you panting, struggling to take him when you got half way.

“What’s wrong brat? Thought you had this, you look like you’re struggling to me.”

You glared at him, reaching up and turning the ghost face mask on the side of his head to cover him completely.

“Shut up you asshole,”

His patience was dancing on thin ice, the need to thrust into you and bury you to hilt, to bully the rest of his thick cock into you was making his nerves jump. As much as he tried to ignore the need to grip your hips and slam into you, to fuck you until you seen stars and begged him to stop was overwhelming.

However when you slammed yourself down onto him, his head tilted back.

“Ah fuck- you little brat-“

Your hands gripped his shoulders and you spread your knees further from him, already feeling so full. You looked up only to see him tilting his head back, his breathing picking up and his hips stuttering under you fighting the instinct to move.

You couldn’t see his face, covered by the ghost face mask and it only made it hotter. Your hands gripped the material either side of it and tilted him to look at you.

When you started to bounce on him, your walls tightened around him still trying to adjust, his eyes rolled back under the mask only opening again to see you above him looking fucked out.

“Shit, sweetheart y-you’re, fuck me, shit, y’fucking yourself dumb on this fat dick?”

You nodded dumbly at him giving him a panty ‘uh-huh’ as you sank yourself down on him again.

“Harder, if you’re gonna fuck this dick do it harder, I wanna see you strugglin’ on it.”

His hands were flexing on the booth, he started to fidget under you as you kept a pace that was no where close to getting you both to cum, he wasn’t a fool, he ever was a stupid man…

He knew you were doing it to break him first and when that thought crept into his head about giving in, he couldn’t ignore it.

You felt wet, you sounded soaking and he could feel your slick drooling down past his balls. Fucking him with this mask on like he was some toy for you was in fucking credible.

To top it all off you had the balls to smack him with that whip, the boss him around which no one done, and you were both in public.

He wanted your mouth, fuck he wanted your tongue down his throat as you whimpered into him.

He was never one who bothered about consequences, never one to care about repercussions.

“You never told me -hah- you never said what the loser has to do.”

“Maid outfit-“ you painted out, “-fucking you in this mask is so hot, fuck your dick is made f’me T.”

“Maid outfit? Loser wears one?”

You nodded dumbly and he chuckled, that’s it?

“That’s it? Fuck this-“

Toji reached up, tearing the mask off and throwing it across the booth, his large hands reaching down to grab your ass painfully.

“You ain’t walkin’ outta here pretty girl, I ain’t carrying you either-“ your eyes widened as he pulled from you , his tip just stretching you out as a wild smirk blew across his face, his eyes almost dots as he looked at you like he was about to kill you “-you little brat, I’m gonna watch you struggle then I’m gonna fuck you even harder when we get home.”

He seen your face fall, the regret perhaps dancing across your eyes and he soaked it up knowing it would fade by tomorrow. Knowing you’d be your cocky self all over again.

And he couldn’t wait.

His pace was brutal, hips slapping up into you with such force your skin was starting to sting, the leather of your outside screeching with each movement.

“Kiss, now-“ his demand was through panting, his breathing heavy as he worked his body to bully his cock inside of you, you gave him wanted he wanted as your whimpers and moans vibrated against his tongue. He swallowed each noise, his hands bruising on your ass cheeks as he held onto them for life.

Then you made a noise he’d never heard, almost a sob that mixed with a moan.

“Atta girl, keep making that noise-“ your arms wrapped around his neck, burying your face into it as your body stuttered and he knew he hit the place he was looking for, “-there it is, gonna cum for me you little slut? Can feel her squeezing me, she’s so tight”

He moaned into your ear, teeth biting at it as he coaxed you into coming with harsh words.

“M’cumming, holy shit Toji-Toji slow down, fuck m’gonna cum!”

“Do it then, I want her sucking the cum outta me, gonna have it drooling down your legs when we get outta here, whole clubs gonna see you’re a slut.”

The moan you gave was pained, frustrated as you danced on the edge of cumming, that coil so tight in your stomach, feeling like you were gonna snap but it wasn’t happening.

“Fuck!” You growled out in frustration into his neck, shifting yourself against him and he chuckled.

“She’s as stubborn as you huh?” He wrapped an arm around you, turning you so your back landed on the booth seat and his other hand grabbed the mask he flung off, pulling it back over his head as he towered over you.

“Look at you, tiny, pathetic little thing- look so dumb all cock drunk,” he rotated his cock inside you, hips moving in a circle as he looked down on you in the ghost mask.

Your hands reaching up to grip his biceps that bulged from holding his weight above you and he looked huge, made you feel like nothing under him. The low light of the room almost blocked out by his shoulders.

He started to rut into you, pressing a thumb to your clit and rolling rough circles around it. A strangled noise leaving you as your hips bucked up, tears welling in your eyes as your body started to shake under him.

“It’s too much, T-Toji it’s too much.”

“Yeah? Deal with it, I’m gonna cum soon and I don’t give a shit if you don’t,”

The panic on your face was enough to make him smirk under the mask, rolling his thumb around your clit harshly knowing it would be too much to actually make you cum.

“I want to,” your head rolled back and tears finally fell from your eyes in frustration, fucked beyond the point of cumming for him as you felt that knot slipping away left with raw, frustrating over stimulation from his rough handling.

“Then cum like a slut, you know how to do it.”

He moved his thumb, slowing his pace to harder thrusts that made your body jolt, tits bounce with each delayed, wet plap, plap, plap of his dick bullying into you.

When your eyes glazed over, your body relaxed under him he knew he had you were he wanted, Toji dropped to his elbows, leaning down to your ear as his hips worked to keep you both going.

“Baby-“ he cooed into you, voice slightly muffled under the mask, “-you feel good, pussy made f’me yeah?”

He felt you nod dumbly, your moans jolted by his hips.

“And dicks made for ya, sweetheart, she’s sucking me in so well.”

He knew he was contradicting himself making a fucking idiot out of his previous taunting that he’d cum without you, but seeing you actually frustrated, tears spilling down and you struggled made the little empathy he had in life flicker.

He kept his short punches, his lower stomach rubbing against your clit and keeping his cock punching that spot inside you until you cried out, suddenly cumming around him violently. Clinging onto him for dear life and sobbing after, pushing his mask off again so you could look at him.

“Damn girl, you’re -“ he groaned at your face, absolutely ruined from his rough treatment, your lipstick smeared, eyeliner smudged with drool and tears.

Your walls fluttering around him brought him with you, curling himself over you until he folded you up, burying himself balls deep as he emptied into you, stuttering, airy curses leaving him as he convulsed against you, hips jolting as your walls pressed around him swimming his dick in cum.

You were slack under him and his energy spent as he almost fell into you, burying his face into your neck as your panting filled the room.

Bodies aching as you pulled apart, Toji sitting back on the booth and leaning his head back, chest still heaving to bring air into his lungs.

He side glanced at you, looking at your pretty face before moving down to your swollen hole leaking cum from it. Toji reached out and patted your public bone.

“She takes me like a champ-“

You deadpanned, before sitting up onto your elbows still recovering with a breathy voice.

“She doesn’t have a choice, you monster.”

Your foot playfully pushed him and he grabbed it, bringing it up to his head so he could kiss the inside of your ankle.

“Seem to be dealin’ with it just fine,”

“So, you liked the unicorn thing?”

“No. Don’t ever do it again, I’ll leave your ass and Gojo can have you.”

“Really? Cause I was thinking of a new theme song, it’s a twist on the original-“

“Don’t sing it,”

“My lil pony, you wanna bone me~?“

©pharix/lonelystarrs 2023 permission is not given to repost, translate or post anywhere else.

If you want Toji in the maid outfit here’s the link to the next part : Maid Zen’in

[queer-little-demigod]

you belong with me - clarisse la rue

summary she's in love with her best friend.

fic type fluff

pairing clarisse la rue x fem!Poseidon!reader

word count 1.8k

warnings jealous!clarisse, swearing, pining, knives, clarisse threatening people, fluff.

masterlist

dividers from this post of @cafekitsune, check out their account!

At this point, Clarisse had no clue how the hell she fell for you.

You relationship had started when she'd tried to intimidate you on your first day at camp, and instead of backing down under her fierce as death gaze, you had threatened her at literal knifepoint.

"I've stood up to bullies bigger than you," you'd snapped, your soft e/c blazing with fire as the tip of a dagger kissed the underside of her jaw. “So back off, or I’ll make you regret it.”

While that earned you respect amongst everyone in camp, it earned you respect of every Ares cabin member, too.

Especially Clarisse la Rue.

The scariest girl in camp.

It had started off with her debating on whether or not she would be mean to you, making you her enemy, or befriending you.

She was strong, not stupid, so she chose the latter option.

Which brought you both here, today, three years later.

The spring season had started setting in, flowers were blooming, the sun was pleasant, wind wasn't scarce and it was cool. Sitting under the trees in the woods became a natural pastime for year-round campers like the two of you.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves of the surrounding trees, casting irregularly shaped shadows on the ground, turning them a deep green on the slightly prickly but comfortable grass.

Clarisse leaned her back against the big tree you both were sitting under, polishing her spearhead, with you in front of her, doing the same for your knives.

The daughter of Ares, while she'd never admit it aloud, was absolutely smitten when it came to you. In fact, this feeling had been lingering in her heart for some time, one which attracted her to you in a definitely non-platonic way.

So here she sat, listening to you talking. Your voice was the only thing she was focused on besides polishing her weapon. It stood out amongst the gentle rustle of the leaves in the trees, the call of a distant bird, the lapping of the lake's water against the edge just past the clearing.

"So, I told Silena that Charlie's in love with her, not her actual dumb blonde of a sister, Sharon," you said, rubbing the polish on the cloth you had in hand, before continuing to polish your left-hand knife. "You know, for a child of Aphrodite, she is remarkably oblivious towards loving advances. Oh, and you know that girl, Kyra, from the Hephaestus cabin? My gods, she has been looking so fine--"

Clarisse stopped listening right then. She knew you were smitten with this girl from the Hephaestus cabin, and by every one of the ever-merciful gods of Olympus, she hated it. She hated how you talked about Kyra, how your eyes lit up when the muscled girl covered with grease so much it was an accessory would glance at you.

She tuned out and stared at you, not noticing the disdainful look on her face.

"Risse, you look like you just smelled a wild centaur," you laughed, putting the cloth down and sheathing your knives again.

Clarisse rolled her eyes and grumbled, "No, I don't like Kyra's vibe."

"Aww, jealous?"

"You wish,"

You were so oblivious. Not only were you unaware that Kyra was a playgirl, but you didn’t notice that Clarisse was smitten with you to the point where it was embarrassing.

For starters she looked at you like you were the world. With adoration, awe, and wonder. She honestly couldn’t stop thinking about you.

She hated how you didn’t notice how her eyes lit up around you, how she was softer with you compared to others, how she let you paint her nails (mostly) without complaint.

You were just too oblivious.

Naturally, that evening, that same evening, she was at the Ares table, talking with her own siblings, while she watched you help Percy out with the rest of the camp’s social structures—something he hadn’t quite figured out yet, even after having gone on a quest.

But the way her blood boiled, as if a furnace had lit up inside her heart, making fire course through her veins, when Kyra came up to you. She saw how flustered you got, saw the way your cheeks reddened when Kyra brushed a hair from your face.

By the gods and her father’s name she wanted to smack that Hephaestus girl into next week…

Meanwhile, you say with Kyra, enjoying the butterflies in your stomach when she touched you, laughed at your nervous rambling’s. But the butterflies suddenly came into light as a warning. What was the likeliness that this affection would last? What was concrete in this interaction? Was it just a playful banter? Or something serious?

So many questions, not enough answers.

But one thing was for certain: Kyra wasn’t the one for you. It took just one interaction for you to understand that.

To understand that Clarisse was right.

But before you could walk away, your hotheaded best friend, seething with anger, jealousy rolling off her in waves, came up to you both and ‘borrowed’ Kyra for a moment.

“What the hell are you doing?” Clarisse asked as she led a very surprised Kyra into the forest. “What exactly do you think you’re doing, playing with Y/n’s feelings like that?”

“Come on,” Kyra laughed, Nerva wearing off a little as her arrogance took over. “She’s a girl, a smitten little girl, who knows she likes a little bit of muscle,”

“Unfortunately she doesn’t know that there’s a snake under that damned muscle,”

“Jealous, Clarisse? Of course you are,”

“What that supposed to mean, punk?”

“You’re so in love with Y/n, it shows. Everyone in camp can tell,”

“Oh is that right? If you know that so well, then you’d better stay the fuck away from her,”

Kyra’s brows shot up. “Is that so? What if I don’t? What if I take her to this very spot, and kiss her, maybe while you watch from the bushes over there?”

Clarisse felt her fists clench, felt her whole body tense up with an adrenaline that came out only during battle.

“What if I break your legs and punch that stupid face in?” She asked, eyes full of the familiar fire that only her opponents saw. “I don’t think Y/n likes the taste of blood.”

She relished the look of panic on Kyra’s face. The trapped-animal stare, the darting irises, searching for a way out, analysing her moves in that second. The tense muscles, clenched jaw, closed fists. All of it was familiar to the child of war.

But how familiar was it to the child of the forge? Not much, probably.

“Stay the fuck away from Y/n, and you and I won’t have any problems, Kyra,” Clarisse said, her voice soft. That made it more dangerous. It was soft like the gentle rain that preceded the flooding thunderstorm—a warning.

Kyra nodded, knowing it was unwise to provoke Clarisse La Rue, especially over a girl everyone in camp knew not to mess with.

But it also meant that Clarisse figured out the depth of her love for you. That it was deeper than the vastest sea, stronger than the biggest tsunami, and more damaging than a hurricane. It was fiercer than fire, more powerful than a blow from her spear, and definitely more dangerous than war.

So she’s decided to flush out her feelings. Get them out before things got worse because she couldn’t possibly find a way to get out of the ‘philia’ situation she had going with you. She wanted ‘eros’, wanted ‘ludus’, and she knew it.

Her catalyst was the mind, she wanted it to be the body., wanted it to be the heart. She wanted you in a way that friends never wanted each other. She wanted you the way Achilles wanted Patroclus, wanted you the way Romeo wanted Juliet, the way Orpheus wanted Eurydice.

She wanted you and only you.

But she could never have that.

So she decided the best way to manage her haywire heart was distance.

But by every one of the gods, big and small, was she wrong.

You found that Kyra didn’t look in your direction ever again, and additionally, found Clarisse avoiding you with nearly psychotic fervour.

Three days. You tolerated it for three days.

Finally you stormed up to Clarisse when she was training. With a swift kick to the back of her knee, you sent her crashing to the ground, disarming her spear from her.

“What did you think you were doing, avoiding me like this?!” You seethed, knife at her throat. “What, was this your idea of punishing me for having Kyra flirt with me?”

Calmly, Clarisse moved you off her like one would brush away a particularly disgruntled cat, and stood up.

“Look, I’m fine, I wasn’t doing anything,” she shrugged, grabbing her spear.

You rolled your eyes. This girl was dumb, stupid, and an absolute useless person when it came to interacting with others.

“I don’t think ignoring me for three straight days can be counted as ‘not doing anything’!” You snapped, annoyed.

Clarisse flinched at your tone.

“Why?!” You asked, following her around as she cleared up the arena. “Why exactly have you been ignoring me, hm?”

She listened patiently to your incessant pestering, going about her business while you looked like you were about to blow a gasket with how mad you were since your hands began to move more animatedly, your frown deepening even more.

“Why the hell did you say that nothing’s wrong when something clearly is?! Are you jealous? Is that it?! Why?!” You asked, expecting her not to reply the way she had been the last ten minutes.

Clarisse had had enough. She was taking the plunge into that deep dark sea, not sure if she was ready to face the monsters in it.

“Because I’m in love with you!” She said, turning around with a terrified look on her face. “I’m in love with you, and I didn’t know what to do about it because you clearly don’t love me back!”

You stood silent for a second too long. But she didn’t run. She stayed there, waiting for your answer.

“You’re in love with me?” You asked, baffled.

No butterflies, nothing fluttered in your stomach, your heart rate merely quickened and your body pulsed in every place with serotonin.

No butterflies meant this wasn’t just a thing, a fling. It wasn’t mindless flirting.

This was ‘ludus’, the love of intimacy, pure love.

“Yes, Y/n, and it kills me every single day, hearing you ramble about Kyra, and you know what I’m thinking when you talk about her like that?” She asked, tears ready to come out of her eyes. “I think that I could treat you like a queen, like you’re above Hera herself. I think that why would you love a playgirl who won’t give a single fuck about your feelings, when I’m here already knowing what you want for breakfast every day of the week! I think that I could be better than her, that I am better than her, in every possible way, but you’re just blind! You don’t see that I look at you like you’re the world because you’re so smitten with a girl who would toss you aside for the next blonde girl she sees!”

You listened to her carefully, taking in her words. In between, neither of you knew when, she had started crying. Small tears rolled down her bronze skin, tracing small pathways in their trail of sadness, of pain.

“I’m sorry,” you replied softly, stepping closer, putting a hand up to wipe her eyes. “I’m sorry that I was blind to how you feel about me, I’m sorry for not noticing it sooner,”

“And Y/n, you’re my best friend, okay? I can’t…I know that we can never be together and…” she stopped short when your hands went up to cup her cheeks.

“Why is that?”

“Philia, Y/n. Friendship love.”

“Who says it can’t progress?”

“You don’t love me back,”

“I do,”

“Friendship love doesn’t count here,”

“Bold of you to assume I’m talking about friendship,”

Clarisse froze.

“I love you too, Clarisse,” you said softly, looking at her in her eyes. “And I’m not talking about ‘philia’. Gods I love you the way Achilles loved Patroclus, the way Romeo loved Juliet, the way Orpheus loved Euridyce,”

“I thought that too,” she whispered, shocked. “How…”

“I know that because these three romances are the ones I’ve read to you,” you replied. “I know you, Clarisse. But I was too blind to see your love went past my mind and extended to my heart, my body, my soul. And I’m sorry for being blind.”

“You belong with me, not her,”

“Do you see me doubting that?”

She giggled softly. Clarisse La Rue, the most feared girl in camp, giggled like a little kid.

“It’s okay, I guess, you little dumbass,” she chuckled. “So…what now?”

“I don’t know, do we kiss?” You asked, confused. “You know I have never kissed a girl before and—“

She silenced you with a finger to your lips.

“Let’s…take it slow? Ease into it?” She asked. “Cause I have never kissed a girl either,”

“Be my girlfriend, though?”

“You thought I’d say no?”

Hi! It’s me, Lea! I hope you liked this imagine, feel free to request <3

[rubysunnday]

love language

summary: the few ways in which Kaz shows his love for Y/N

Opening night of the new Crow Club meant Y/N hadn't stopped all day. She'd been running around serving drinks and keeping an eye on the Makker's table all whilst making sure Jesper didn't gamble away everything Kaz had given him as a thank you for the Pekka Rollins job.

She hadn't stopped and now, four hours in to the night, she was tired. Her face hurt from smiling and she was almost certain that there were a few blisters on her feet.

As she set the drinks tray full of empty glasses down onto rhe bar, one of the newer members of the Dreg's appeared at her side, silently waiting for her to notice him.

"Yes?" Y/N asked tiredly. She couldn't remember his name.

"The boss wants you?"

"Who? Kaz."

"Yeah. He's in the corner."

Y/N followed the boy's vague waft of a hand and spotted Kaz sitting in a dark, seclude corner, his cane in his hands. She sighed but stepped away from the bar, weaving through the mass of people until she was in front of his table.

"What?"

"Nice to see you too," Kaz replied. "How's it going?"

Y/N's eyes narrowed, slightly suspicious. "Fine."

Kaz waved a hand and suddenly one of the barmaids appeared and set a drink down on the table in front of Y/N.

"For you," Kaz said. "As a thank you."

Y/N picked up the glass, ice jingling inside it. "So, Jesper gets money -"

"This is a thank you for what you've done tonight," Kaz replied. "The other thank you is currently clearing at the bank."

Y/N took a cautious sip. It was her favourite drink. Granted, it was the only thing she tended to order, but she was amazed that Kaz had actually remembered what it was.

"It's not poisoned."

"Even if it was, I'd still drink it, i'm desperate," Y/N replied, taking another, bigger sip.

Kaz nodded. "Don't overwork yourself. There are others who can do it for you."

Y/N smiled slightly. "I know."

Wylan had blown out all the candles in his lab and put his experiments to bed. Their sleeping situation wasn't ideal - at least Wylan's floor was clean and he'd had extra pillows.

Kaz had yet to go to sleep. He doubted that he would at all that night. His leg ached and his mind was racing with plan after plan.

Everyone else had, eventually, fallen asleep. Jesper had been first and was now snoring away, his face buried under the duvet. Nina hadn't been long after him, curled up in a ball, a heavy blanket on top of her, hiding most of her face. Wylan had quietly fallen asleep after Nina, propped up on a pillow, a piece of paper and a pen on his lap.

Inej had been trying not to fall asleep but had failed, her head slumped to the side, her hand on one of her knives.

Which left Y/N. Y/N had been sat up against a wall, numerous pillows underneath her, acting as a mattress. And, as Kaz looked over, she had slid down the wall and was now fast asleep, her chin resting on top of her chest.

Kaz grunted as he stood up. He limped down a step and picked up a folded blanket from the pile Wylan had produced. With a gentle shake, he unfolded it and walked over to Y/N's sleeping body. As carefully as he could, he laid it over the top of her, gently tucking the edges in around her.

Y/N shifted slightly but didn't wake. Kaz stepped back and watched her for a moment before walking back to the steps and sitting back down.

They'd all ran into the chapel without a second thought, slamming the door shut behind them in a weak attempt to keep the volcra at bay.

Y/N fell back against the door, putting her entire weight against it as thevolcra tried to break in. Tolya and Tamar came either side of her, squishing her between them, as they also put their weight against the door.

"Jesper, hon," Y/N said. "Wanna do your magic trick?"

"Oh, yeah, right," Jesper said, handing his revolvers to Wylan. He shooed at the three of them. "Move."

"Please," Y/N muttered, pushing herself off the wall and away from the door.

She walked forward, coming to a stop beside Kaz, her arm brushing the sleeve of his jacket. Wylan, who was stood in front of her, abruptly took a step back into Y/N. Y/N grabbed his arm and was about to ask what was wrong when she saw it.

Slowly forming in front of the stained glass window of Sankt Alina was one of Kirigan's nichevo'ya.

"Um, guys," Y/N called. "There's a shadow thing in here."

Then chaos unfolded. The nichevo'ya launched at them and they all scattered, falling into the pews and onto the floor to try and avoided the reach of the shadows. Wylan threw a small bomb at the advancing shadow and it dispersed into nothing, a few bright blue sparks the only sign it'd ever been there.

Y/N pulled herself up using a pew and exhaled a sigh of relief. She looked up and saw Jesper's face drop from a smile to absolute horror. Y/N turned around and saw another nichevo'ya looming behind her. It's tendrils shot out at Y/N.

Someone tackled Y/N to the side, into Nikolai, sending them both to the floor. The nichevo'ya's tendrils slammed into the pillar beside them before Nadia and Adrik dispersed it with a blast of air.

Y/N rolled over, almost lying on top of Nikolai, and saw Kaz sprawled on the ground beside her. He stood his cane up and pushed himself to his feet, quickly moving out the way as Tolya ran over to check on Nikolai.

"Where does it keep coming from?" Y/N asked. Tolya extended a hand and pulled her to her feet. Y/N groaned, wobbling slightly. Nikolai put a hand on her shoulder as he also stood. She nodded, reaching up and giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

As the others began talking tactics and plans, Y/N looked over at Kaz, who was stood apart from everyone else.

"Thank you," she mouthed, putting a hand over her heart for a moment.

Kaz gave her a single nod.

"I've got a delivery here for a Y/N Orlova?"

Y/N poked her head out from under a table and then glanced over at Nina. "What've you been using my name for now?"

Nina held her hands up. "Not me."

Y/N stood up, dusting her hands down on her trousers. "What is it?" She asked the delivery man.

He shrugged. "Don't know, I just delivery it, my dude."

"Helpful," Y/N muttered, taking the parcel from the man.

She set it down on a table as Nina moved over to join her.

"It could be a bomb," she said.

Y/N gave her an unconvinced look. "It's from Johannes' Bakery. Besides, I doubt a bomb maker would go to the trouble of," she unfolded the flaps of the box, "wrapping a box in purple ribbon and writing my name on an envelope."

Nina reached in and took the envelope, pulling the flap open and then taking the card out. "Happy birthday Y/N." Nina paused and looked at her friend. "It's your birthday?"

Y/N nodded. "Ahuh."

"You didn't say anything."

"Never do."

"But we could've -"

"Nina, stop complaining and help me."

Nina put the card down and grabbed the bottom of the box, pulling it down and away from the cake box within. Y/N carefully set the cake box down on the table.

"Who's sent you a cake?" Nina asked, sliding into a chair.

Y/N undid the ribbon, pulling the bow out. "I couldn't tell you. I don't tend to advertise my birthday anymore."

Nina leant forward. "Hurry up and open it then."

With the ribbon undone, the cake box lid came off easily. Inside was a heart shaped cake covered in purple icing with pink and white sugar flowers around the edge. Happy Birthday Y/N was written on the top in white icing.

"Oh, my saints," Nina said. "It's beautiful."

Y/N carefully slid the cake out of the box and onto the table. "What did the note say?"

"Uh... happy birthday, thank you for everything, Mr R," Nina read out. She frowned. "Who's Mr R?"

"Why do you expect me to know?" Y/N muttered. "I've not a clue."

The front door to the Crow Club opened and Jesper and Wylan walked in, hand in hand.

"Who's cake is that?" Wylan asked, dropping Jesper's hand and heading over to the table.

"Y/N's," Nina replied.

Wylan looked at her. "It's your birthday?"

"Yup." Y/N nodded. "I don't tell people."

Jesper joined them and pressed a kiss to Y/N's cheek. "Happy birthday, love. The cake isn't from me."

"I suspected as much," Y/N muttered. "It's too nice."

Jesper laughed sarcastically. "Thanks."

From the doorway leading up to Kaz's office, a shadow slinked away and up the stairs. They pushed open the office door and hovered behind Kaz as he scribbled away.

"Well?" He prompted.

Inej walked forward and perched herself on the edge of his desk. "She loves it." She paused. "I think that's the sweetest -"

"That's all, Inej." Kaz picked up an envelope and handed it to her. "Take that to Johannes' Bakery. It's payment for Y/N's cake."

Inej nodded. She stood up and paused. "I still can't believe you bought -"

"Pay the bakery man, Inej, stop commenting on my private matters," Kaz drawled.

Inej rolled her eyes. "Fine."

She stepped out onto the landing and climbed down the stairs, not bothering to be silet.

"Inej!" Y/N yelled, hearing her friend come down the stairs. "You must try this cake, it is divine!"

Inej smiled to herself and tucked the envelope into her pocket. "You've got a cake?" She said, walking into the main floor and acting surprised. "Who sent you a cake?"

"Not a clue," Y/N replied. "But whoever it was, I love them." She took another bite and hummed happily. "Best cake ever."

Upstairs, Kaz leant over the balcony, evesdropping on his crows below. He smiled to himself and stepped back, retreating back to his office.

[sillysillygoofygoose]

Older! Boyfriend Toji x Fem Reader pt. 2

MDNI! EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD

CW: weapon play

18+ Headcanons:

Older! Toji, who was definitely a fuck-friend, before he was a boyfriend. At first, it was a once a week occasion, almost like an appointment. Slowly it became twice a week, then four times a week, then almost every night. It became an addiction like no other. He began craving you whenever you weren't with him.

"You free tonight baby? Need to fuck you so bad... haven't seen you in three days, fuck."

Older! Toji who fell first... and swears it was some work of black magic.

"Don't know what you're doing to me, Mama." Toji groans fucking you from behind, watching as a ring of white cream forms at the base of his cock. His hips speed up by the second, realizing that he isn't just feeling lust.

"Tightest, prettiest little pussy I've ever fucked. Sweetest, prettiest girl I've ever met. Put a fucking spell on me."

Older! Toji who is not loud in bed. Sorry to my girls that love the moaners and the whimpering sluts 😔. You'll get groans, grunts, and tons of dirty talk but THAT'S IT.

When you're having make-up sex or when he's angry, he won't make a sound. Just heavy breathing and hard fucking. Kinda scary tbh.

Older! Toji who loves it fucking disgusting. Sloppy, wet, hot, you name it. His favorite thing is to lay down and watch you choke and slobber all over his dick. Chokes you just to have drool spill out of your mouth. Cums all over you, having his seed collect on your shaking body. He's absolutely dead set on making you squirt, training your body as regularly as possible.

Older! Toji who loves experimenting with his knives and handguns in the bedroom. Whether it be pressing his Glock 19 to your forehead while fucking you against the wall, or pressing a blade to your neck while marking you up, he loves the way the danger always makes your breath hitch. Don't worry though, he always takes the bullets out, always uses the dull side of the knife... he'd never be able to forgive himself if something actually happened to you. (When he has basic human empathy 😍🤤)

Older! Toji who first confessed after fucking you raw, going three rounds. He was struck with jealousy after you invited him out to a bar, instead of your apartment like you have been doing routinely for about 5 months. He was having a good time, joking with you, feeling his heart beat a little faster every time your face lit up and your laugh rang out.

Everything was just jolly until some fucking guy walked up to you, introducing himself as Satoru. He began practically begging to buy you a drink, claiming that he's only seen a beauty like yours in a dream about a wild forest goddess he had when he got high for the first time in 9th grade.

Toji rolled his eyes, scoffing at the man who was currently making a fool out of himself. You, on the other hand, found the man's antics amusing, giggling while you allowed him to carry on about his dream, detailing the way the goddess walked towards him, blessing him. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as he informed you that the scene was an exact replica of you walking into the bar.

By the time you got back to your apartment, Toji was less than pleased.

"Oh, C'mon Toji! It was funny. I mean, you really didn't get a kick out of him?" You pest as he walks in, taking off his size 13 boots.

"Tsk, no. He was a drunken idiot. Goddess my ass, he wouldn't know how to worship you."

That night, Toji fucked you sweeter than he ever did before. You expected to have your insides rearranged the second you walked through the door. Something was different. The air around you felt and smelled different as your breathless moans occupied the room. More tender, more purposeful, more...intimate. He worshipped you head to toe.

Once he pulled out, he uttered three sentences that changed your relationship forever...

"You're mine, I'm yours. I want you, I need you. I love you."

He reminds you of this moment from time to time, repeating the same three sentences. Not after you fuck, but after you make love.

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

[oriigami]

(spoilers for both knives out movies ahead)

i think what i really enjoy about knives out and glass onion is that they are, while not completely fair-play whodunnits, pretty close to it.

a fair-play whodunnit is a murder mystery which is entirely solvable by the viewer before the detective sums everything up at the end; the viewer is given the same information as the characters, and the same opportunity to figure everything out. this is a style some modern detective stories like to break to preserve the ability to catch the viewer off guard, as hbomberguy elaborates at some length in his sherlock is garbage and here's why video.

knives out gives you almost all the information you need. its possible to figure out on ransom's introduction that there is, at least, something missing from his story, that he returned to the house for some reason after leaving; the dogs were heard barking the night of harlan's death, and he is the only one they are seen reacting aggressively to. likewise, the audience hears nana saying 'ransom, are you back again already?' well before blanc learns about it and realizes its importance.

the only crucial piece of evidence any of the characters ever see that the audience doesn't is the toxicology report, which the audience doesn't get a chance to see before blanc's summation at the end revealing marta's innocence. but even with that omission, it's possible to guess harlan wasn't poisoned! marta lists off the symptoms of morphine poisoning at five and ten minutes on screen, and we see him exhibiting none of them, even after she's left and snuck back in, which must have been more than ten minutes after the initial injection. later we see fran suffering an overdose of the same drug, and she's far more debilitated than harlan was even in his last moments.

glass onion, of course, plays a lot more fast and loose with this concept, because it hides large swathes of the setup from the viewer until the halfway point. blanc actually has a lot more information than the viewer until we get the extended flashback in the middle of the movie.

however, after you know the circumstances of andi's death, like blanc says, you can completely guess that miles killed her! helen even suggests it during one of their first conversations, because it's obvious! of course he did! the only thing the movie does to delay this conclusion is throw out a swarm of red herrings in presenting motive and opportunity for everyone else, but the motive is obvious. the main thing both the audience and blanc need to realize is just that miles is stupid enough to do it. blanc uses his countless malapropisms as evidence when reaching this conclusion, but he doesn't even need to; it's absolutely obvious from the fact, readily available to the audience, that HE MADE HIS HOUSE INTO A BOMB.

likewise, the movie shows you that miles handed duke the drink that killed him, though this is later corrected during his self-serving flashback. you can see the outline of a phone in miles's back pocket after duke's murder even though miles doesn't own a phone, and even a brief shot of him sticking duke's gun in the ice bucket on the table.

additionally, putting a little bit of thought into miles's justification for the lights going out reveals it makes no sense. he was supposed to give a big speech as part of the murder mystery?? no he wasn't! he's dead at this point! he gets shot by the crossbow at dinner! why would he be giving a big speech at 10 pm? because he made up the lights going out on the fly based on blanc's earlier comment, and didn't think it through at all, like everything he does!

i'm not gonna pretend i figured either of these movies out ahead of time on the first viewing- i totally didn't! but i know when the next one comes out, i'm going to be watching very carefully, and probably doing a lot of rewinding.