#and it isn't the first time he has something to say on how i look
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exhibition ― s. jy
Requested by anonymous via tumblr: cam boy jake. That’s it.Jake is your college roommate and he needs to buy a camera for his online classes. Curiosity gets the better of him, leading to a lot of extra money and, well, finding out that you’ve been a little too curious about what he's doing. Or the one where your roommate flaunts his secret job at you, not thinking you’d go out and search for him. And definitely not thinking you’d be getting off to him either.
MDNI
WORDCOUNT― 4.9k
PAIRING― cam boy jake x afab reader
CONTENT― college setting but it’s mosting within the apartment they share, cam boy jake, confused best friend reader, smut WARNINGS― none but brief mention of mommy kink in passing
NOTE―this isn't proof read ;o;
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“Seven hundred.”
“What?” “That’s how much I made last night,” Jake’s eyes shine brighter and brighter with each word, a crooked smile plastered across his face as he sleepily blinks. “I didn’t even have to do anything weird either.”
You pause as you sip your morning coffee, wrapped up in a blanket and head pounding at the amount of stress and work you’ve had to get done while he was too busy playing with himself on camera for dozens of people. Or maybe hundreds. Thousands?
“What did you do then?” You raise a brow, not entirely checked in on his boasting this morning, though it is impressive.
Jake always shares how much he makes after each session. What started with fifteen dollars is now reaching seven hundred. Surely your best friend isn’t just jerking off, right?
“Well, it was a little weird, but not that bad.” He avoids the question with a vague answer, suddenly feeling his face heat up. “Just a little here and there, y’know?”
You narrow your eyes instantly. So he does do weird shit for money! You knew it! No way could someone make that much money in such a short span of time by regular jerking off.
“Just a little what?” You stare him down, now placing your coffee on the table and leaning towards him. He knows better than anyone that you, of all people, can point out if he lies. Meaning, he has to be honest.
And so, he shrugs, trying to be nonchalant about it.
“Mommy.” He says it like he’s saying any other word, as if he’s uncaring, as if it was worth the money. “Just had to say it a few times and the money came pouring in.”
Your eyes narrow at him even more.
“What else?” You question. “There’s no way they’d accept it unless you…”
He raises his brow at you now, tilting his head in cheeky curiosity.
“Unless I cried? Edged? Let them torture me a little bit?” He smiles. “Yeah, I know.”
You’re a bit shocked, the images of what that must have looked like for his viewers forcing your curiosity to grow. His smug face looking back at you now serves as proof that he very well may be into that kind of thing. Almost like he’s sharing a kink with you, which…is not something the two of you do.
Despite being roommates, and without any mention of how long you’ve been friends, sex has never been a topic until he started this whole camboy thing.
You remain calm though. This is Jake you’re talking to. He’s the last person you want to see drooling and cumming all over himself.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Okay so, you’re a liar.
All day, all fucking day you’ve thought about it. It’s not that you’re into the kink, or even that you’re into Jake. You’re just…curious about how smug he is about it. And yeah, it’s probably just a huge confidence boost to have all sorts of people rubbing one out to you while paying your bills, but still.
You’re only a liar because that so-called confidence makes him more open about it. More loud. More comfortable. More…horny?
You can tell by now, weeks after he started. You could never hear a peep from his bedroom, not a single moan or sigh at first. Now though, he’s only gotten louder. You hear the moans, the dirty talk into his camera, the usernames, all of it.
“Thank you–mmf– cumslut2000.”
God, you hate that you didn’t cringe hearing him say that. It was the moan mid-sentence maybe, or the sultry tone you’ve never heard from him until now. You can’t help but squeeze your legs together with an annoyed groan, practically leaping for your headphones shortly after because, absolutely the fuck not.
Not Jake. It’s too weird.
And the days pass like that, casual with him as he discusses his pay where you no longer question because now you’d just think too hard about the details. The nights pass like that too, where he’s louder, louder, louder, until you can almost hear him through your muffled videos and playlists.
Until you are forced to feel the arousal just like the rest of his viewers. You can’t escape the attraction despite wishing, hoping, fucking praying for your head to stop wanting to hear more.
You know better than anyone though, hoping and praying does nothing for you and the only thing that will help this situation between your legs is seeing. Proving to yourself, so to say, that seeing Jake act like that will feel gross. It will turn you off. It will solidify that Jake is your best friend and your roommate, nothing more.
It’s easy to find him too. All you had to do was abandon your headphones tonight, waiting for him to introduce himself via username to his stream.
Doggystyle02.
That’s what he picked? He can’t be fucking serious.
You’re excited as you google the username, enabling NSFW search and finding him within seconds. Excited to lose the interest that’s driving you up a fucking wall, that is. And before you click into his stream, you inspect.
Yeah, that’s definitely his abs oiled up in his profile picture. You choose to ignore his uh…thing under his sweats, heavy, leaving a little spot on the front of them.
Oh, 23k followers? And he started two, maybe three months ago? People want Jake that badly? And you just…live here with him? You get to see him daily, and hear him playing all these kinky roles in real life? God, you just know if the viewers knew they’d be saying shit like “If i lived with you, I’d be on that cock every day.” Blah, blah, blah.
They don’t know Jake like you know him. He’s just a dude, not some sex god.
Then…something in your gut stirs. It flips, it bubbles, your face warms up. The comments on his profile asking him all sorts of things, saying all sorts of things and he just…responds? Reciprocates?
Cumslut2000 comments: god i want you to hold me down and make me take it
Doggystyle02: Don’t sweet talk me like that, you know how I get.
Oh, does she now? How the fuck would she know anything about Jake. Your best friend. Your roommate.
DPlover: can we plllleeease do another private show?
Doggystyle02: book me for later, i’ll even give you a discount <3
Another private show?! A fucking discount?!
Blushy: im too shy to talk when you’re online but i really, really want you.
Doggystyle02: you wanna talk in private? I’ll message you and bring you right out of that shell. let me take care of you baby
You’re speechless. During his private job, where he doesn’t share his name but he shows his fucking face, he publicly talks to people like this? He’s never so much as looked at you for too long after you’ve gotten out of the shower, yet he wants to take care of a fucking loser ass bitch who is too shy to talk to him?
Sexually?!
Safe to say, never in your life did you ever think you’d find yourself jealous of people who get Jake’s attention. To you, he’s always just been, well, Jake. The guy who ran up your apartment stairs on all fours the day you moved in, the boy who constantly did your homework for you in highschool because he knew you wouldn’t graduate with him if he didn’t, the absolute best friend who followed you to the same college, saved you from the dorms by becoming your roommate, and now…somehow, seems…more than just what he was before.
Surely you’re just horny though. Curious, in the mood, whatever. Anyone would be when there’s a porn set just a wall over, right?
You shake your thoughts, knowing you’ll just make yourself sick if you keep reading all of his little public comments and start wondering what he says in private to them. You scroll up instead, glancing at his abs again before your eyes land directly on what you were trying so hard to avoid.
He’s kind of packing, you can’t lie. If he wasn’t Jake, you’d probably be ogling, rubbing out to him just like everyone else. Hah. You chuckle, shaking your head at your own stupidity, ready for these weird feelings to be eradicated the second you click into his stream.
Except…jesus fucking christ.
The comments roll in faster than you can read. The money is pouring in, and he’s sitting there on camera with that same dopey grin he gives you every morning. There’s something else with his smile though, a little lip bite, some tongue darting action to wet his lips. Hair falling into his eyes…jesus.
After a minute or two of staring at your best friend’s face, ignoring the movement of his shoulders attached to the hand that’s…doing something, a pop up covers his image entirely.
SIGN UP OR LOG IN TO CONTINUE WATCHING…
Never in your life have you signed up for something so fast, typing in a string of cute letters and numbers to differentiate yourself in the sea of horny viewers. And then his image is back, and your eyes trail straight down.
Instantly you choke up, watching the way he uses his hands with that expression on his face. It really is just typical jerking off but…something about it. Something about the way he flicks his own nipples with a seething lip bite, bucking his hips up before shining his pouting eyes into the camera, as if wishing any or all viewers were there to do it for him. And god, the way he looks kind of wet? Like, oiled up or lotion, maybe lubed up, you don’t know. His hips slide that thing through his fist so easily, making squelching sounds all the while.
That’s…that’s really him. And he’s not even ten feet from your bedroom door looking like this. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to get up and interrupt him.
What would you even do? What would you say?
So, you just watch, completely forgetting that you were doing this to get rid of the curiosity, not feed into the sexuality of a man you’ve known for so long as nothing more than your closest friend.
Over a thousand dollars made in just one stream by the time he logs off, and those moans echo in your brain. Hearing them so clearly through your headphones just…wow. And, well, you did your best.
You swore you’d never get off to the image of Jake after all this curiosity started, it’s just, you can’t help it now. At least he wasn't on your screen, moaning and whimpering for all the faceless people watching. You waited. Your belly burned and your clit throbbed through all of it, and only when he made a mess of himself with that same fucking smile before logging off did you finally give yourself what you needed.
You don’t know why you did that, and you don’t know why the muffled stream of his shower just down the hallways is what sticks in your head when you finally reach your own orgasm.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“Over a thousand this time.”
“Oh?” You awkwardly avoid his eye contact, stiffening your shoulders at the mere mention of his stream from last night.
“Yeah, not sure why they gave me so much this time though…” He trails off briefly, inspecting your posture and sudden defensive stance. “I didn’t even do any of the kinks.”
Well…you know why he made that much. He wouldn’t even need to feed the fetish crowd to make a decent living off of this, not with a face like that, a cock like that. It’s only natural he starts making more and more with each lengthy stream.
“Yeah, that’s weird.” You answer shortly, rummaging through cabinets despite your lunch sitting on the table across from him.
“Yeah…” He notes the shift, feeling tension in the air. “Are you okay?”
“What? Me?” You ground both feet on the floor now, abandoning the cabinet as you turn towards him and look to the floor.
You can’t do it. You can’t look at him.
“I’m perfectly fine, what gives you that idea?”
You hear him stand from the table, taking his usual Jake-esque strides toward you. Then, he leans forward and tilts his head, chasing your eyes with his own and forcing you to look at him.
“Well, you haven’t even looked at me all morning,” He smiles, tapping your chin. “Was I too loud or something? Did it make you feel awkward?”
Oh, an out! An excuse!
“No, no, I just –”
Now, why the fuck did you say no? Why are you looking at him now, stopping mid-sentence entirely stunned because, yep, that’s him alright. You saw him cum. You watched him do it, you listened, and you fucking liked it.
And now you’re looking him in the face, and he’s giving you that same smile, and you’re…oh god.
“I–”
He tilts his head again, blinking twice before narrowing his eyes.
“Spit it out. What happened? Jay do something?”
Your words are caught in your throat, cheeks hot, stomach doing flips…Your eyes glance down without intention, right to his groin and he sees it. He even pulls back a bit, looking surprised before softening his expression.
“Don’t tell me you–” His voice is softer now too, but he calls out your name. “Why are you being so weird?”
You can tell he doesn’t want to make the assumption, and arguably, you’re bad at hiding things from him.
“I kind of, like, accidentally saw your stream last night.” You say it so fast, avoiding eye contact again by embarrassingly staring right between his legs. “It feels weird now.”
He laughs. He fucking laughs, but it’s kind of like, a smug laugh? A chuckle?
“Oh now it’s weird?” He rolls his eyes. “Relax, it’s not weird.”
“It is though! You’re, well, you! I didn’t need to see that!”
“Then why’d you watch?” He smirks, reaching a hand out to tilt your chin up at him again. And he’s done this many times in the past. Platonic, lovely little touches from someone who will protect and appreciate you. This though, this is…
“Go on. Tell me. Why is it weird now?” He encourages you to admit it. “Because you liked it?”
You remain silent, unwilling to answer.
“I grossed you out?”
“No!” An immediate disagreement there, one that only digs your hole deeper. “I just–didn’t expect that.”
“So you did watch it.” He leans back now, crossing his arms and staring you down. “Did you enjoy yourself?
What is he fucking asking right now? The worst part about this is if you don’t answer, it’s still a fucking answer. But you don’t want to like, lie, because already you couldn’t even make it through a fucking morning with him after seeing it. So, with the smallest voice you have, so small you hope he can’t hear it, you whisper.
“Yes.”
And if you were to look him in the face right now, you’d have seen that smug look go to curiosity. You’d have seen the split second of his adoration for you merging with a new view, a new feeling, and possibly a new need.
“Wait, did you–?” He even feels a bit shy now, his ears practically on fire as he keeps his eye on you, and the way you curl in on yourself with the admittance. “Did you..touch yourself?”
A small nod, you squeeze your eyes shut.
Then you hear him hold his breath, taking a step back from you. You’ve touched yourself to him, he can’t believe it. After all these years, never once looking at him like that…not even he looked at you like that but now?
He pictures it. The way you must’ve been in your room all alone, knowing what he’s doing, searching him up, then confirming it for yourself. You liked it. You liked what you saw and you got off to it.
And now he can’t stop smiling. Proud, he feels proud.
“Well, don’t feel weird.” He finally says, trying to ease your discomfort. “It’s just…a normal thing. I don’t think you’re weird.”
With that, the conversation dies, fades entirely into awkwardness as you both split off.
You need space to think.
He needs space to think.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
You’re doing it again, as if just this morning you didn’t have to bury yourself 6 feet under right in front of him.
Neither of you spoke after that. Avoiding each other consistently throughout the day with knowing, growing, and exhausting tension. Yet still, he’s started his stream, and here you are, watching it with a dazed look.
You don’t know how to feel or what to do. Your head doesn’t anyway, your body knows too well what it wants and needs, and you hate yourself for making it so awkward between the two of you. Why did you tell him? You wonder if he’d be uncomfortable knowing you’re watching again, this time knowing your hand will stray as you watch.
You wonder, and wonder, will he think you’re disrespecting your friendship by doing this not once, but twice?
Then, you hear him.
“Can we do some roleplay today?” He speaks out to the chat, cock pressing against his briefs, head tilted with his messy hair in the very computer chair you bought for him.
Last time, he was sprawled out on his bed, and you wonder if he always starts his streams this way.
“I want you to imagine we live together, and you know I’m in my room fucking myself, begging, needy for anything, anyone to touch me.” He looks into the camera. “Let’s say you’d hear it too. I’m loud on purpose…”
“Tell me what you’d do to me.”
You stare forward blankly, frozen on the spot at his words, then your eyes flick to the chat.
“You wouldn’t see the front door ever again.”
“I’d be on you within seconds.”
“You wouldn’t even be able to turn your camera on, just come home and I'd be waiting.”
Oh.
Jake hums at the responses, whispering them to himself.
“Ah,” Jake reads a specific comment with a nod. “I’d be an idiot to not jump at the opportunity.”
And the rest of his words become muffled as your ears pop. Is he…talking about you right now? Was he expecting you to watch again?
“If that ever happens to me, just know I’d be grateful for all of you. Running to help me feel good, you’re all so good to me.” He giggles now. Fucking giggles. “Alright, enough of that.”
Jake stares into the camera again, and you can’t help it. It feels like he’s staring at you. Straight through your fucking soul at this point.
“I have a lot of stress to relieve.” He ends on that note, skewing his pants down and making haste.
He’s not slow or cute with it like he was before. He’s aggressive, almost frustrated. His eyebrows furrow, his lips become red from his biting and chewing, and you watch the money flood in.
The comments blurring past, words of, “Oh fuck,” and “This is new.” before suddenly, you hear an irritated sigh. A string of curse words pour from his lips, his hand squeezing the base of his cock so tightly, and spurts of cum shooting up his chest, only to drip down slowly.
“What a waste.” He comments shortly at himself, heaving in a breath before he breaks out into his usual smile. “Sorry to end on such a short note, just thought I’d let you guys join me for a quickie!”
Then he’s gone, the stream lasting about ten minutes in total.
And apparently so is your fucking sanity because why is it that now you find yourself getting out of your bed, feeling the wet between your legs drip, and you’re heading for your bedroom door just to get to him?
Why is he standing right outside, as if he was already waiting for you to open it?
And it’s silent now as you stare at each other. Him, with his sweatpants skewed over his waist, cum still on his chest, breath still uneven. Then you, practically vibrating to get on him.
“You’re looking at me like you want me to eat you out.” He says, already pushing you right back through your bedroom door, letting you flop back on your bed as he instantly pulls at your shorts. “Want me to kiss you first?”
You feel your head spin the second you flop back and feel your shorts being pulled off, and before you can even comprehend his question, he’s already kissing you. Hot, heated. He sounds just as frustrated as he did just minutes ago getting off by himself. You don’t even mind the cum on his chest, nor the way he spreads your legs with his knee to get more comfortable.
It’s happening. This is what kissing Jake feels like. This is what everyone wants from him, but it’s you that’s getting it. Has he always been like this? Good at kissing? Firm with his movements? Confident as he kisses down, down, down, giving you what he thinks you want?
You do want it. Perhaps you were looking at him like you wanted him to eat you out, and now he’s doing it. Breathing shortly right against your clit without so much as savoring his view before diving in, tongue instantly licking from your hole straight to your clit and sucking.
He hums around the taste, both hands holding your inner thighs and keeping your legs open. And he just…keeps humming, licking and sucking you so good that you can’t help but cry out and tug at that fucked up mess of hair on his head.
Jake likes that. He likes the way you hold your breath and the way your legs shake around his ears. He likes even more the way he knew you were watching him tonight, and that you looked like you were coming straight to his room to jump him.
So strange how quickly things can change, so strange how good his best friend must have tasted all these years, and he had never once considered it. And now, he blinks up at you, seeing the way you close your eyes and breathe through it, like you’re calming yourself down, thinking both too much and not at all.
Easily he runs his hands up and under your shirt, feeling the soft skin of your belly before gently running his palms over your perked nipples. He continues to stare up, watching you, tasting you, loving this a little more than he ever knew he would.
He did want you, he does want you. His cock has been aching all day for you since the moment he found out you thought of him. Jake thinks you’d be tight, because lord knows you haven’t gotten laid in a hot minute, and that quick jerk off session was absolutely for you.
He wants to show off to you, wants you to see him more than anyone else can. Yet, it’s you he’s seeing more of right now and he doesn’t mind that so much.
His eyes flick back down, allowing his fingertips to toy gently with your nipples as he skews his head, essentially making out with your pussy, slurping the slick you offer and not letting a single bit of it go to waste. Then, he dips in, pointing his tongue right against your pulsing hole and pressing in.
There’s that tug of his hair again, your legs squeezing around him and your hips bucking up.
Oh, you like that.
So, he does it harder and with more focus. He squeezes his eyes shut and prepares to not breathe for a bit, licking as far into you as he can, his nose easily pressing your clit in such a beautiful way that all you can do now is moan.
Genuinely moan for him. His name in a little hiccup followed by a curse.
Fuck, you’re so hot to him right now. Anyone would be fucking lucky to be in your bed at all, and finally it’s him. As if he’s been waiting for years despite never needing a turn previously.
And this continues until he can’t breathe, his fingers growing more needy against your tits, his tongue reaching deeply before pulling out and allowing him to take a deep breath that is scented entirely in you. Then, he fucking nuzzles it.
You glance down with a heaved breath, legs shaking as you watch him do it. Eyes closed gently, rubbing his nose and lips against your clit in such a gentle, loving way that it has you melting instantly.
“Jake–” You whisper in a breath, the first word you’ve said to him since you opened your bedroom door.
All he does is shoot his gaze to you and continues his nuzzles, uncaring of whatever you need to say if it isn’t you asking him to fuck you right now. And arguable, you have nothing to say anyway.
You just…needed to say his name. Needed to solidify that you just broke a boundary with him willingly, and he doesn’t care. You don’t care.
You feel the thumping in your chest, your clit throbbing with each little rub he lends before you sit up slightly on your elbows, balancing yourself before reaching a hand down.
He leans into your palm on his cheek, like a puppy wanting love. Then his hands leave your chest and find their way to your hips. His doe eyes instantly sharpen, and you’re instantly being pushed back down to your bed.
“Want me to be whatever you want? Let you do whatever you want to me?” He finally says, licking his lips as he makes his way up to hover over you, making sure to lift your shirt enough to expose both of your tits. “Just like I ask?”
You find yourself nodding before taking it back, shaking your head.
“I don’t want it to be like that–” You trail off, avoiding his intense gaze and suddenly feeling very vulnerable under him. “I just want you. The Jake I’ve always had.”
Another shocked look reaches his expression. He’s a bit surprised, assuming that all of this was simply because you watched his stream and didn’t expect to be so turned on. He thought this would be a one and done thing. A “let’s forget this ever happened,” thing.
But you want him? Not the acting? Not the kinks, or the cocky grinning? You want the best friend in him, the part of him that was never sexual, never confident, never willing to approach women.
He looks at you in question.
“I don’t know how to be that right now.” He finally says, pressing his hips down and against you with a choked moan. “How can I be that when I want to fuck you so badly?”
You find yourself smiling, running your hands through his hair to get it out of his face before shrugging.
“When have we ever known what we were doing?” You ask quietly, wincing slightly at how hard he’s gotten, knowing that you’re not having to see him through a screen now.
That’s all he needed to hear before keeping eye contact and reaching down with one hand. You can’t bare to look down, knowing some sort of embarrassing sound will leave your throat. You decide to feel it instead.
And goddamn, do you fucking feel it.
He slides in easily, but the size of him stretches you far past anything you could have imagined. This is him, he’s this big. This is what Jake’s cock feels like and it has your chest caving in over it.
All you can do is hug him, clinging to him through the stretch and hoping the way your cunt squeezes around him isn’t hurting him.
“God, fuck.” He says in a quick whisper, arms shaking to hold himself up as you hug him. “You’re so tight, fuck.”
You smile against his messy chest at the compliment, basking in it really before allowing yourself to freely adjust. Your body clenches him tightly, and he remains still through it until he can’t anymore.
He drops to the bed, flush against you without warning and the moans start pouring from his chest. He can’t stop even if he wanted to, can’t control his hips, his words, his thoughts.
He just lays here flush against you, letting his hips move freely and rapidly. In, out, in, out. So clumsy, so loud, and goddamn does it feel fucking amazing.
You moan alongside him, petting his hair with each thrust, feeling his cheek against your tits move with each drop of his jaw. Even when his moans are silent, you know he feels good and that makes you happy.
None of those little bitches in his chat could get him like this, surely. He’s not acting right now. He’s Jake.
And that’s what makes it so good, you think. That’s why he has so much cum to put in you, apologizing through it all because the fear of this act comes with the orgasm. Apologizing for fucking you, for cumming in you, for getting off so quickly, promising you that he’ll make you cum too.
It’s then that you realize, when he’s got his face back down between your legs, sucking his mess out of you…maybe you have feelings now.
And maybe that’s not such a bad thing either.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
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Aw, man, can't believe it's been two years since I wrote that.
When I reblogged and added my little commentary, I actually hadn't anticipated my comment to be reblogged by more than a couple of mutuals or be seen outside of my followers. I was just sharing a term that popped up in my head as a joke.
If I knew this glib comment I dashed off one morning without much thought was going to breach containment and take on a life of its own, I probably would have added a few disclaimers.
Since then, I've seen some people miss the point about what I was talking about in a few huge ways, so I'll clarify now a few points:
I have nothing against the cockroach wife dude.
I don't know if that story is true or not (there are some weird people out in the world, so I won't dismiss it out of hand, but like. come on) and I sincerely do not care that his spankbank was exclusively taken up by a cockroach woman. The part of his tale that we should take as a parable is where he solely and without being forced by anyone else hinged his entire sexuality around an imaginary construct that then made him incapable of being attracted to real human women. Remember, his story starts with him complaining that he can't get it up with his human girlfriend without picturing her as a huge cockroach. He did that. Nobody forced him to develop this condition. This is a lesson for the rest of us.
people going 'I think they're both pretty!' like that's the centrist silver bullet to this phenomenon.
Listen, yeah. I agree. Both versions are meant to be attractive, just to wildly different demographics. You know who doesn't agree? The guys I'm talking about.
The dudes I am referencing do NOT think both characters are attractive to different people. They think the original is attractive to NOBODY, and everyone else in the world is just PRETENDING that the first one is attractive in any way, and they're convinced everyone else also objectively knows the original art is ugly but there's a conspiracy to subject poor defenseless heterosexual men to pictures of butt-ugly women in order to brainwash them or something.
The guys afflicted with Cockroach Wife Syndrome are on some gamerbro qanon shit where their perception of reality is slanted to a comical degree, but they think their experiences are objective and unbiased, and they're making it everyone else's problem.
people smugly going 'OP has an anime girl in their icon' like that's some sort of gotcha
Yeah, man, I'm not opposed to anime girls. I'm not even opposed to hentai, or blender porn, or masturbation. I think everyone deserves to masturbate if they want to, and the way the world is going, we all probably deserve to masturbate a lot more (porn addiction isn't a real thing, my dudes). I accept that some people are going to jerk it to stuff that I don't find attractive, and maybe consider repulsive, and that's just going to be a fact of life from here unto eternity. We all need to come to terms to that.
But the Cockroach Wife Syndrome sufferers do NOT want to accept it. They want the entire world to have only one porn preference that aligns neatly to their own, and also they want all fictional depictions of women everywhere to adhere precisely to their porn preference.
And like, why would we do what these guys say? Now, me, personally, each time I see one of their yassified sexy edits of an already pretty female character, it always looks like the tackiest shit to me, like they're a toddler who got into mommy's make-up. I want to start a GoFundMe to send them to beautician school. I don't care how much they screech about it, they cannot convince me their aesthetic tastes are something to emulate, so I coined this term for them just so I had a name for their obnoxious behavior.
All that being said, in the time since I wrote this post, I discovered it gained some traction outside of tumblr. "Cockroach Wife Syndrome" was added to Urban Dictionary. There are people slinging around the term on twitter. I personally got jumpscared by running into it in the wild on reddit, which was how I found out people are actually using it. Honestly, I am not that hyped about this being my legacy (and I am so sorry to the OP of this post that I got them stuck with seeing every reply or tag someone ever makes about the cockroach wife guy, like I'm some malevolent storytime cuckoo who dropped disturbing internet tales in their nest). But ultimately, I think this one is actually on the thousands of people who reblogged it and considered that I described a phenomenon that they also observed.
Y'all stay safe out there, and remember to vary your masturbation material once in a while.
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i wish i could see this picture for the first time again
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How about Simon having a wife that is a toymaker and makes plushies. Wife!reader comes to the base and gives each of the tf 141 a plushie that looks like them. All of them gets one… except Ghost
Needles to say, he’s very upset, all day, that he didn’t get one.
Only when he gets home, he sees plushies of himself and the reader on the bed
A/N: okay omg i'm so so sorry this has taken forever but I've lost my draft three times 😭 luckily i wasn't TOO far along writing/had it copied but HERE U GO <33
Ghost x Fem!Reader - Toymaker Wife
For such a special day, you come prepared. It's the first time you're setting foot on Spec Gru's European base, thanks to your husband's insistence on security and containment—whatever that means. After much begging and many strategically missed video calls, Simon finally extends an invitation.
It's a cold, concrete world, Simon tells you. Nothing like you, love, or so he says. Does he think being a toymaker for work is synonymous with an inability to handle a few more military men than you already have? It's hard to believe that anyone on base could be more threatening or deadly than Simon himself.
Or Ghost, as they call him here. It's a little funny—reminiscent of middle schoolers that roleplay wolves named Luna or Rebel, but he'd have your head if you ever say such a thing, regardless of how true it might be. You've considered making him a wolf-ear headband just to prove a point and laugh at his furrowed expression. You're sure that his friends, those large men and women in the photo he let you keep, would find it equally funny.
"Sergeant Gaz, Captain Price, Sergeant Soap…” You count, knocking each handheld plush into your bag. It feels just a little childish, showing up to a military base with a pack full of toys-but in your defense, they're the product of your profession and adorable. Each is handmade to recreate the likeness of every member of Task Force 141. They'll probably like the gifts, if Simon's description of each's personality is accurate. Soap's boyish charm, Gaz's calm demeanor, and Price's warm, but dry sense of humor—that's something you can work with.
***
"It's—is this a mini me? This is braw, you've nailed it, lass." Soap lifts his plush into the air, as if holding a newborn babe to the sun. "Down to the scars. I'll be."
You can't help the ripple of a laugh when beside him, Gaz similarly examines his miniature self. "Not bad," he breathes, wiggling the doll's arms as if to make it dance. "Not bad at all. What a handsome fellow."
Soap lifts his doll, moving its head as if it were speaking for him in a poor attempt at ventriloquism "Finely crafted, maybe. Handsome? Well, that's up for—"
"Well, pass yours on over then, let's see that Yule log you call a mohawk," Gaz sneers back, matching Soap's doll's movements with his own.
It's a successful introduction, you think! Simon watches on in silence, loving warmth evident in his eyes as he does. He's not dragging you away and shipping you back home, so things must be going well—as silent and distant as he's being.
"Do you like them?” You ask, hands folded in your lap.
Price fidgets with his, admiring the tiny boonie hat that you've included, small strips of Velcro lining the bottom to adhere the hat to the head. "Never thought I'd ever be the owner of my own doll," he murmurs. "Got the hat just right, didn't you? Spot on."
"Aye, but don't leave it lying about," Soap grins, making his doll trot on over and speak in pitched up tones. “That hat of yours might just disappear. I've got hair too, Cap'."
"Yeah, hair that needs covering."
"Oh, bolt, ya dobber."
Amidst the light chatter of your newfound friends in Simon's comrades, you glance over at the man. There your husband stands, arms crossed tight against his chest. He's got that look—definitely pouting under that mask of his, as much as he protests, saying that it isn't pouting, it's brooding. The others seem to take notice of your wandering gaze, though, and suddenly all eyes are on Simon and his very obvious lack of a personalized doll.
"Don't look so solemn, Ghost," Gaz grins cheekily. "You've almost got me feeling bad for you. You're the one with the dollmaker for a wife, mate.
Simon doesn't respond. His dark gaze, gentle brown eyes hardened into rocks, finds Gaz. Shut it, he seems to say without even opening his mouth.
That grey cloud seems to follow him throughout the day. Convivial conversation with his other friends on base falls flat when the spotlight falls on him, his responses limited to a scant "Hmm," or "Uh-huh," or even a quiet look that verges on a glare. He'll pull away when you reach for his hand, casually enough to pass off as an accident or fault of imperceptibility. As if you didn't know him better—that his reflexes and peripheral vision weren't as sharp as blades.
"Stupid anyway," he mumbles to himself, catching your ears. "Stupid toys."
You frown. He knows better than to speak this way—you've discussed it before, about how much you treasured your work and hated having it dismissed by words like stupid and childish. “I don't think they're stupid," you interrupt, never too intimidated to speak up against him.
Simon immediately softens upon realizing that you've heard him. “It's not—that's not what I meant. You know I don't think they're stupid."
Right, but he's acting strange all day. Still, you can't find it within yourself to probe. "Something is, though. Right?"
"The way they play with them,” Simon immediately speaks, shoulders stiff. "Just…grown men, playing like children."
"Ah," you hum. Somehow, you can't bring yourself to believe it—but you don't ask. It's not as if it's even remotely big enough of an issue to need addressing, after all. You just hate to see Simon so withdrawn. At least, more so than usual.
***
Simon is absent from dinner in the mess hall later on, after giving you an extensive tour and dropping you off at one of the on-base cafes. That's how you know something's off. He would never normally give up an opportunity to share a meal with you, even in a noisy, crowded cafeteria like the one on base.
"Wasn't hungry," he only shrugs when you find him in his on-base unit, boots kicked up as he nurses a neat whiskey. Oh, he's pouting.
You can't help yourself. "Aww, baby," you coo, lingering closer. "Are you feeling alright? You've been gloomy all day…"
"Mmph," he shrugs, gaze flickering up to yours—and he can't help how he all but melts at the love in your eyes. "Just…tired. Go'n and get your shower done. Wanna snuggle."
And how could you say no to that? Your growing suspicion had been that Simon was feeling left out, or forgotten, not receiving a doll of his own. Little does he know, you giggle to yourself.
***
You're in the shower when Simon emerges from his brooding, lurching off the couch and trudging towards the room, where he'd made his bed with clean sheets and set up fluffy pillows for his wife's arrival. The bitterness of being left out of her sweet benevolence has largely faded. She is his wife, after all.
He nudges open his bedroom door, set on his dresser to shed the heavy layers of the day, the mask, and finally exist as Simon for the rest of the night. With you. No doll could ever distract him from you.
He's pulling a hoodie over his head when tiny figures catch in the corner of his vision. A hallucination? No. Dolls.
You and him, smiling and snuggled together. You in your favorite sundress, rosy cheeks and cute face. Him in his mask—which is removable, he discovers on closer inspection. Simon gently tugs off the cloth skull mask, curious to see his own likeness rendered in doll form.
"Handsome bugger," he mutters, thumb brushing over his doll's small face. Blond with stern brown eyes, but smiling. Soap was right about the scars—each placed with perfect accuracy. The one extending from the left corner of his lip up his cheek. The one across his eyebrow. You even got the one under his chin, tucked under the plushie's soft, round face.
On the right hands of both dolls, he realizes, there is a hidden circle of Velcro. So they can hold hands in any orientation. It's such a you thing to do that it hurts.
When you emerge from your shower, all three are gathered in the living room, watching TV. Simon with his legs up on the coffee table, and your miniatures holding hands in his lap. It's hard to help the beam that curls up on your lips—and why would you want to?
"Looks like someone's found the kids," you coo, swaying over and plopping down beside him. “I'm glad you like 'em. Did I do you justice?"
"More than," Simon rasps, scooting close, flush against your side. "They're better than that git, Soap's, that's for sure."
His words coax laughter out of you as you press your head to his chest and scoop up the two little toys into your arms. "Careful, Si. They might hear what you said and tell him.”
"They can go on and tell the whole base, for all I care. Your skill went as far as it could go, it's his face that's the problem." Simon snorts, tugging you close and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Better believe I'm showing this one off tomorrow. Might have to keep it in here, though. I'm not risking a theft."
"You say that every time," you laugh, snuggling close and shutting your eyes for the night as he wraps an arm around you—warm, solid, and safely his.
Request Archive
#call of duty#cod#call of duty modern warfare#cod modern warfare#cod mw2#call of duty fanfic#call of duty fic#call of duty fluff#ghost call of duty#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#ghost modern warfare#cod fluff#cod x reader#cod mwii#cod fanfic#cod mw3#ghost mw2#mw2#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley
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How would Dory react if the player got like a seriously bad injury from exploring the underground parts of the factory and such cause let's be real that place has SO MANY Osha violations
Honestly, I wouldn't last 5 minutes in that factory without breaking something.
If you like my work, please consider commissioning me or leaving a tip on Ko-fi (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
Doey & player who got injured in the factory
★ When Doey finds you injured, his first reaction is to panic. "Player! What happened? Oh no, oh no…" before quickly snapping out of it and attempting to help. Trying to remember any of the first aid lessons Medic taught him.
★ His normally steady hands begin to shake as he looks around for anything that could help. "This is all my fault" he thinks to himself, while scanning the room for anything useful.
★ Doey realizes that this part of the factory isn't safe for you. So, he picks you up as gently as possible and brings you somewhere better. Once you’re in a safer area, he tries his best to treat your injuries.
★ It's not perfect but it'll keep you from bleeding out before he can get you back to Safe Haven. "Why did this have to happen to you?" he says to himself, voice hushed and filled with a mix of fear and sorrow.
★ After he brings you back to the Safe Haven, Doey remains by your side for as long as he can. "Let me handle that" he says whenever you try to get up to do something. He's tries to distract himself by helping you. Putting your needs above his own.
★ Even when he's busy, you're still taken care of. A lot of the smaller toys wanted to help you after hearing what happened. Word spreads fast in such a tightknit group. Bobby even brings you her favorite board game to cheer you up! If you needed a cast, it'll get covered in signatures.
★ Despite his best-efforts, time and time again, he dwells on what he could have done differently. Feeling like he somehow made this happen. Like he failed to keep you safe. But he pushes those thoughts aside, trying to focus on the present moment.
★ Doey makes you a get well soon card. The card features a drawing done in crayon of him destroying whatever safety hazard that dared to hurt you. When he hands you the card, you can tell he's proud of it.
#poppy playtime headcanon#poppy playtime x reader#poppy playtime fanfic#poppy playtime x player#doey#doey x player#doey x reader#doey headcanons#doey poppy playtime#poppy playtime doey#doey the doughman
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oh he's an absolute arsehole about being a misogynist too
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[ID: a forum post saying the following:
There were never many female gamers in our group. My daughter Elise was one of two original play-testers for the first draft of what became the D&D game, and both of her younger sisters played...and lost interest in a few months as she did.
In our campaign group that cycled through in a couple of years (74-75) something in the neighborhood of 100 or so different players, there were perhaps three females.
As a biological determinist, I am positive that most females do not play RPGs because of a difference in brain function. They can play as well as males, but they do not achieve the same sense of satisfaction from playing.
In short there is no special game that will attract females--other that LARPing, which is more csocialization and theatrics and gaming--and it is a waste of time and effort to attempt such a thing.
This calls to mind when Lionel made pastel colored trains and train cars to appeal to females. The effort bombed, the sets were recalled and re-dine as standard models, and those pastel ones that survived are rare collectors items.
So much for this topic (emoji removed)
Cheers,
Gary /end ID]
and when challenged by another forum member
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[ID: the other poster says: That doesn't quite square up with my own experience; I've known many female roleplayers,
Gygax replies: So, out of the 10 or so million persons in North America that are or have been RPGers, how many do you know. What demographics do you have to suppport your contentoion.
Frankly, Iknow those answers, and your experience is meaningless. /end ID]
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[ID: a forum post saying the following:
Well, the audience for the WoD game was not a tithe of the size for the D&D game, so it isn't particularly meaningful. As the games were rather based on the gothic Romance genre, featuring the supernatural, of course, it isn't a great wonder that more females were attracted, for they are the main audience for the underlying genre.
As for the demographics, there is no single study available, but one can compile a rather strong profile by observing the ratio of males to females that subscribe to RPG periodicals, are found in the RPGA, belong to RPG websites, are found in game stores, apear as authors of game-related works and articles--and perhaps most telling play CRPGs on home computers or online. Large conventions tend to attract more female gamers than is representative of the ratio of male to female players, mainly because of the socialization and constume aspects (theatrics) I assert. this too is demonstrable when one observs the attendees at small conventions where the ratio is more like 19 males to every female.
In regards sales, check with your FLGS. Female customers buying for themselves are rare compared to males.
This isn't a cultural phenomona but one based on gender, the provable differences between the male and female brain function. This difference is, quite naturally, as varied as are people themselves, so one must look at the median, not examples at either end of the spectrum in either sex.
I view this discussion is bootless, so I shall refrain from further comment. I have said all i have to say regarding the matter, and no one has yet been able to demonstrate I am in error regarding the relative lack of female participation in the RPG hobby.
Ciao,
Gary /end ID]
I love telling people that Gary gygax was a biological essentialist because they always are so reticent to believe it. Like. he literally proudly said it out loud. Also have you ever actually read D&D? like. 3/4ths of everything is ontologically evil from birth
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Teen MC snapping at Caleb
Context: Yk how when you're teenagers, guys think the only way to flirt with the person they like is by teasing them? Well, imagine if Caleb had an era like this until it went too far and mc finally snapped at him.
Beware: this is gonna be SO BAD. im not a writer at all and english isn't my first language either. its just that i've had this scenario in my head for a few days now and i needed it out of my system. Also, I decided to use they/them pronouns for mc. So its more inclusive that way and also bcs even I personally don't always refer to my mc as she/her. So yeah, for the bitches, bros and non binary hoes.
Imagine this, Caleb and you bantering like usual on your way home but you're having an off day which makes it easier for you to get pissed off and fed up with all the teasing. Unfortunately, Caleb doesn't notice this and keeps teasing you until you just snap.
So mc, exasperated, scoffs at him and turns around to leave with their arms folded across their chest and eyebrows scrunched so hard they almost look like a unibrow.
"I'm done talking you. Go find someone else to pick on, Caleb. I'm not in the mood."
Sensing the sudden shift of mood, Caleb is speechless for a bit and left floundering, looking for the right words to say. He thought this was just your usual banter so why were you suddenly taking the jokes seriously? Hell, he can't let you stay in a bad mood for the entire day because that means he's getting the silent treatment and he'd rather die (well not really but he almost feels like it) than have you completely ignore his entire existence. Again.
He approaches you slowly, using a gentle voice to not alarm you the same way one would with a hissing kitten.
"Pipsqueak? Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry... Tell me what it was and I promise I won't say it again. Don't be mad anymore, we don't want you to develop any more wrinkles, do we?"
And oh, the way you stiffened up, very much reminiscent of a stray cat on full alarm against anybody trying to steal its food. Caleb gulps, knowing somewhere along the lines, he triggered a tripwire and a bomb's about to blow.
"Uhm! You know what, nevermind me! How about we go buy your favorite snack? Oh, what a coincidence your favorite stall is right around the corner-"
You turn around with a glare that makes him immediately shut up, looking like you're about to rip him a new one.
"WRINKLES?! First, you make fun of my height. Calling me pipsqueak around everyone and never shutting your damn mouth about how not a day has passed where I was taller than you. Then you start being weirdly aggressive towards my other guy friends, which by the way, what the fuck? Now most of them won't even talk to me anymore! What is your problem?! And now, you're calling me OLD and UGLY?!"
"I-I never said -"
"Shut your damn mouth and listen to me, Caleb! You have been getting on my nerves lately! I've been trying to convince myself that this is all just friendly banter but sometimes, you go too far that I don't even know if I can still laugh it off! We used to be best friends but now, its so easy for you to make fun of me. I don't know what I ever did to deserve this but oh my god, if you hate me this much then just stop hanging around me!"
Mc is heaving by the end of their entire speech, extremely worked up and upset that they're red in the face. They had been bottling this up for the past few weeks so letting it out almost felt cathartic.
Caleb is stuck in place, throat dry and mouth open but words won't come out. Was that how it's been like for you? Had he taken the jokes too far recently? Maybe it was wrong to listen to the other guys in his class who said that teens tend to fall for guys who act terrible, the bad boy stereotype is popular nowadays.
He looks down, feeling guilty and pathetic that he ended up making you feel like you hated him when you were the person who embodied everything he loved. You made him feel like flying and falling, all at the same time. So how could he hurt you like this? He had to make things right before it was too late.
"I'm sorry. Its all my fault. I shouldn't have said all those hurtful things to you, even if it was a joke or not. At the end of the day, they hurt you and that's not right. Please believe me when I say that I could never hate being around you. That couldn't be more wrong, not when all I ever want to do is be by your side. So please don't tell me to stop hanging around you, just thinking about it feels like my chest is being squeezed that it hurts. I promise I won't make the same mistakes again, so please forgive me?"
He's nervous, fiddling with his hands while he looks you in the eye. He reminds you of a wet puppy under the rain, begging you to bring him home with you. You knew the moment he pulled those puppy dog eyes that you would eventually lose, you could never say no to him. Not when you were kids and not now.
You sigh, shoulders slumping and the frown gone from your face. Now you just look tired, which only makes him more worried, maybe you're tired of him? No, that can't be. What would happen to him if you decide he's not worth keeping around anymore? He just might stop functioning all together.
You turn your back and start walking home, he feels his heart drop thinking this is it. You're leaving him behind– that is until you turn your head to the side, side eyeing him with a blush on your face.
"What're you standing there for, I thought you were going to buy me my favorite snack? Don't get the wrong idea, I'm not forgiving you just yet. Not until I've had my fill."
After that day, Caleb completely changes. Or maybe its more accurate to say he reverted back to how he used to be when you guys were kids. Doting, attentive and extremely supportive. He still banters with you from time to time but he never goes out of his way to start one. Although, there is one thing that doesn't change and that's how over protective he still is, he's still acting like a guard dog and being threatening towards all the guys in your class but at this point, you're just happy to have your best friend back again.
And just like that, Caleb's popularity spikes in your class because suddenly, every girl wants a guy who comes at their beck and call and attends to their needs. No more bad boy persona for them, they just want someone who worships the ground they walk on the same way Caleb does for you.
#lads caleb#love and deepspace#love and deepspace caleb#caleb x reader#l&ds caleb#l&ds imagine#love & deepspace#love & deepsace x reader#i#caleb x mc#caleb x you#they/them mc
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Sebek's scars
Sebek x reader, romantic A/N Technically, this shouldn't be a part of my I Love Everything About You series because it's not in the right format. But a sudden drabble formed in my head while I was rereading Sebek's Scales this morning, so I've decided to include it as a special piece.
Sebek's scales are a wonderful idea, but I need to talk about his scars.
I mentioned once his lightning scars from using his unique magic, but what about his regular ones? He has been through intense training, survival camps, combat practice, and weapon mastery. There have to be some scars on his body.
So I find myself wondering - do they (Lilia, Mama Zigvolt, or Baul) erase these marks with magic, or do they let them remain? I hope they don't remove them.
Because then, you could trace them, kiss them, and tell him how strong he is. And he'd become all smug about it, proudly recounting the stories behind each one.
Of course, he'd mention Malleus at least ten times, declaring that it's an honor to bear these marks - medals of valor earned in the service of protecting his king.
But then, as your hand gently traces along his body, you notice a small scar that appears fresh. Before you can ask about it, he suddenly tenses, trying to cover it up, his usual bravado faltering. For the first time, you catch a glimpse of shyness in his movements.
"I'm sorry, does that hurt?" you ask softly, making sure his reaction isn't caused by pain.
"No, pain is not the matter here" he replies, trying to sound indifferent.
"Oh, good. Then… what's the story behind this one?" you're careful with your question, but try to meet his eyes.
He hesitates for a few moments before finally saying "This one is because of you."
"What? I-I'm so sorry!" your first reaction is panic, as he doesn't elaborate. "D-did I hurt you somehow? If I did, then I'm really s-”
"Ha! As if a weak human like you could hurt me!" his bravado returns as he smirks.
Then, taking your hand, he presses it gently against the scar.
"This one," he says "is from when I saved you from that darkness during our dream-hopping journey! You're such a weak human - what were you thinking, jumping in there…?"
You remember that moment, when Sebek had actually saved your life - one of many, many times. He has never mentioned scars obtained because of you before, though. Is that why he was acting nervous?
"Oh… I see. Thank you, Seb, and… I am sorry." you slowly start to pull your hand away from his body, but he suddenly grabs it, holding it firmly as he meets your gaze.
"Stop apologizing! Or do you think such a trifle is something to worry about for me?" his voice is a little louder than before, and you notice a hint of blush on his cheeks.
"I'm just sorry that you have to bear it because of me now…" you murmur, still sounding guilty.
"Were you listening to me just now? Or are your human ears too weak for even my voice to reach them?!"
You blink at him in confusion. His grip on your hand tightens slightly.
"I just said that bearing scars for protecting those who are dear is a great honor for a warrior!"
"But that was about Lord Malleus-"
"About Lord Malleus, of course. But also…" his voice drops to a quieter tone. "This applies to you, too."
For a moment, there's only silence between you, the weight of his words settling like a promise.
"As long as these scars mean you are safe, I shall bear them as my armor. Do you understand?" his gaze is still locked on you - serious and unwavering.
And you return his steadfast look with a gentle smile, leaning in to draw him into your embrace.
"Bear your armor with pride then, my warrior." you whisper. "And I will make sure no scar ever reaches your heart."
#plus I really wanted to include my sketch of bandaging him#and it's simply a perfect transition to Sebek's Heart OMG#caligo's stories#twisted wonderland#twst#sebek zigvolt#twst sebek#sebek x reader#sebek zigvolt x reader#twst x reader
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⋆♱✮♱⋆ D is for delightful (part 2)
Ni-ki Nishimura x fem!reader
wc. 1.9k words
summary: after pairing up with a slytherin for a potion project, you somehow find yourself unable to tear away from him
tw. fem!reader, reader is implied to be a gryffindor, enha and giselle (my beautiful gorgeous queen 😫🧎🏻♀️) mentioned and all implied to be Slytherins, party & mention of minors drinking and smoking.
a/n. I didn't know what to choose for his cologne so I looked up what parfum ni-ki wears (i felt like a fucking creep 😭) say someone said it was a Jo Malone basil mandarin perfume so yeah 😁
part 1
Quidditch season has its way of bringing students of the same house together. No matter your opinion on your fellow housemates, quidditch is quidditch. Heading down to the great Hall for breakfast, you can feel the excitement of the first match of the season; Ravenclaw against Slytherin. You sit down at the Gryffindor table, serving yourself some porridge, fruits and a cup of coffee. As you start eating, you feel a light tap on your shoulder. You turn around, met with Ni-ki, a cocky smirk adoring his face. “We’re hosting a party tonight after the match, wanna come?” You knit your brows. “Already planning a party? You didn't even win yet?” He flashes you a confident smile. “Winning is guaranteed, Ravenclaw’s team isn't winning anytime soon.” You snort, teasing him. “Nah y’all are gonna lose.”
Ni-ki gasps dramatically at your response, clutching his heart, pretending to be in great physical pain. “How dare you. Do you have no faith in me???” You laugh at his dramatic antics. “Are they even gonna let you play? You skipped detention the whole week.” Ni-ki grins slyly at you, as if you had asked an absurd question. “Of course they’ll let me play, I'm the best chaser we’ve got.” He says cockily, earning himself a glare from Jake. “Besides, I’ve already got out of those detentions with a little help from Jay, no need to worry.” You roll your eyes, serving yourself another cup of coffee. “Please don't bring Jay into your shit…” You look around, trying to catch a glimpse of the boy. “Jay isn't even here, is he still asleep???” Heeseung pipes up. “He's up, probably still under the shower.” You nod. “You better catch the snitch quickly, it's cold as shit outside.” Heeseung rolls his eyes at your comment and scoffs. “Don't tell me what to do, I'll catch it at my own pace.” You sigh, already regretting not bringing something hotter against the cold november weather. Before anyone can add anything, Jay arrives, greeting everyone with a nod. “Well well well, look who decided to join us…” At Jay’s arrival, you decide to take your plate and cup, sitting down at the Slytherin table. Jake smiles, knocking your shoulder with his. “Finally decided to join us huh?” You nod, swallowing your food. You glance to your right, Jay still standing up, half asleep. You pat the spot next to you. “Sit down and eat. You have 10 minutes before you guys have to leave.” Jay’s eyes meet yours, he nods and takes the stop next to you, you serve him a cup of coffee and Jungwon starts piling up food on his plate. Jay blinks a couple of times, trying to chase the fatigue. “How are you so… hyper this morning?” “This is actually my fourth cup of coffee.” Jay shakes his head, mumbling something that sounds like Lord have mercy under his breath. Sunoo, who was uncharacteristically quiet, finally pipes up “If we win, will you come to the party Y/n?” Ni-ki sends him a look “You mean WHEN we win.” “Of course I will” You smile and glance at Ni-ki who's already looking at you.
The next few minutes are spent by Heeseung, Sunghoon, Ni-ki and Jake discussing the best way to beat ravenclaw – in the most humiliating way possible – Jay nodding along, playing with the food on his plate. They leave in a hurry to get changed in their quidditch robes. Jungwon gets up and starts heading to the quidditch area, you and Sunoo following. The three of you head out of the school, the freezing November breeze making you shiver. Tucking your face into your scarf you decide now is the perfect time to talk. “I am NOT lasting ‘til the end of the year, Nishimura is gonna be the death of me.” Sunoo laughs, as if he was expecting you to bring up Ni-ki, Jungwon on the other hand looks concerned considering how much you ramble about him. “May I ask why Nishimura out of all people is gonna be the death of you?” He inquired, his voice tinged with playful judgment. You flash him an apologetic smile and start gushing about Ni-ki. “Did you see how he looked at me earlier??? I thought I was gonna have a heart attack. I don't know if I wanna punch him or eat him up-” Sunoo grabs your arm, a delighted laugh escaping his lips, as Jungwon gives you a weirded out look – he's not quite sure what you mean by that.
—————————————
The match finally came to an end, Slytherin completely obliterating Ravenclaw with a whooping 250 to 50. You meet up with the rest of the group in the Great Hall for dinner. “Ni-ki that goal was something else, I mean throwing the quaffle all the way from the Slytherin goalpost and scoring? It was amazing.” Jake nods in agreement, headlocking Ni-ki, ruffling his hair. “You were insane out there mate, I didn't expect you to score like that.” Ni-ki finally getting out of Jake’s tight grip, he smirks at you. “Told ya we were gonna win. Now you better come to the party angel” You roll your eyes trying to ignore how your stomach seems to be doing cartwheels because of a simple pet name. Giselle, a friend you made since you started hanging out with Slytherins smiles at you “Wanna get ready together? You can bring your dress with you so we can get ready in my room!” “Okay!”
—————————————
“You look great.” You make eye contact with Giselle through the bathroom mirror, adding some mascara to your lower lashes. You’re wearing a black slip dress, with black heels and your hair is down. You smile. “Thanks Giselle, I love your dress by the way. It's so cute!” Giselle smiles, tugging her loose soft pink hair behind her ear before crouching down to put on her heels. You let out a yawn, feeling the lack of sleep of last night – as well as the caffeine crash – getting to you. You set the mascara tube down, giving yourself one last once over, before heading into the Slytherin common room with Giselle. As you both get down to the common room, Giselle whispers “Go get your man.” in your ear. The party is in full swing, music blaring and people drinking and dancing everywhere. The room is dimly lit with Slytherin color, the atmosphere lively and electric. In the sea of partying students, you spot Ni-ki, cigarette in one hand, drink in the other. He spots you too, greeting you with a hug. “Hey, nice dress” He speaks loudly, trying to make himself heard over the loud music. He hands you a drink. “Thanks! Giselle kinda left me. Do you know where she went?” Ni-ki looks around, trying to find her. He taps your shoulder, giving you a shrug. “I can't see her sorry angel.” He pauses, taking a hit of his cigarette, blowing the smoke into rings. He smirks, eyes roaming around your body. “Seems like you’re stuck with me sweetheart.” You roll your eyes, unable to meet his – suddenly finding the content of the drink he had handed you interesting.
You take a sip of your drink, face scrunching at the taste of alcohol burning your throat. You turn back to look at Ni-ki, only to find him already looking at you. It's not the way he usually looks at you, with mischief because saying or doing something that would get him in trouble, there’s something different in those eyes and it seems whatever changed somehow makes you even more drawn to him. You can already feel your body loosening up, the alcohol making its way in your system. You grab the half burned cigarette from his grasp, taking a hit. There's a hint of surprise in Ni-ki’s expression, that's quickly replaced by delight and something else you can't quite place your finger on.
—————————————
You are not God's strongest soldier. Three drinks in and you somehow found yourself resting your head on Ni-ki’s chest, arms around his waist, one of his hands on the small of your back, the other holding onto his – technically yours since he stole it – drink. The scent of his cologne – a citrus and amber-like scent– filling your nostrils. The party is still raging, people everywhere and it doesn't seem to stop anything soon. Ni-ki gently whispers in your ear. “Hey sweetheart can't have you falling asleep on me, why don't you call it a night huh?” – You can practically hear the small smirk that must be forming on his face by now – You distance yourself from him, just enough to see his face. His eyes find yours and he smiles. It's a smile you could get used to seeing – it's sweet and it makes you believe you might actually have a chance with the boy – you nod, silently agreeing to call if for today. “Mkay… I'll go to sleep.” Maybe it was because of the smile he’d flashed or maybe it had only to do with the alcohol you had, but you get on your tiptoes, kissing him goodnight. “I think you missed darling, you must be very drunk if you don't know where my lips are.” Its harmless teasing really, usually a simple eye roll to brush it off would have done the trick. But today, you decide that yes, maybe you should kiss him if it means he’ll finally realize you’d like to be the only one he flirts with, the only one he kisses. And so you roll your eyes, “You’re so demanding Nishimura, you’re lucky I love you.” and kiss him. It’s sweet, you can taste the lingering taste of the alcohol on his lips. He pulls you closer, deepening the kiss, his lips moving against yours and you're suddenly aware of what you're doing. You break the kiss and mumble a quick “Good night.” before heading upstairs, crashing in Giselle’s room
—————————————
Drinking was not a good idea. At all. Whatever was in the drinks, it was strong, strong enough that you find yourself waking up the next morning having absolutely no recollection of why you were not in your bed. You can tell Giselle is in bed by the steady sound of breathing behind you. You try getting up an arm wrapping around your waist, someone snuggling into you. You freeze, turning your head slightly – to your surprise Ni-ki is behind you, still asleep. “Hm Ni-ki? Wake up.” You try shaking him awake. He makes a noise between a groan and moan but he opens his eyes, taking you in. “What?” His voice is still laced with sleep, deeper than usual. You look at him bewildered, wondering how he could be so calm. “What??? What do you mean ‘what’??? What the fuck are you doing in Giselle’s room and why are you sleeping next to me???” Now it’s Ni-ki’s turn to look confused. He props himself on his elbow. “Hey hey hey, calm down princess, I'll have you know last night you crashed in MY room, and I need my beauty sleep so I slept in my bed. I was sure you wouldn't mind… You know since you love me.” he adds teasingly. Oh the bastard. You can already feel your cheeks flustered and unfortunately for you, the memories of last night are finally becoming clearer. And you can clearly remember not only telling him you loved him but the feel of his lips against yours. You blink trying to chase the memory from your mind. “I- ok maybe I do. But so what?” He smiles as if he knew you would say something like that. “I was thinking about asking you out so that we could share our first kiss more… romantic setting but looks like you beat me to it angel.” “Oh shut up Nishimura.” He smirks. “So, can I be your boyfriend?” “Yes”
©RAVEN-ODYSSEY
reblog, comments and likes are appreciated!
#𖤐unkind𖤐#enhypen x reader#nishimura riki x reader#nishimura riki#ni ki x reader#ni ki fluff#enhypen niki#niki x reader#niki x fem reader#niki x you#niki x y/n#enha x reader#enha fluff#enha imagines#ni ki
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So @deathlysilent13 and @lokiitama have cursed me again. I did some lore rambling previously, which will sort of be incorporated but--anyway.
The point is the lore i've spilled/discussed before will not be entirely gospel. It's a semi-developed story in my head now because of the HHD server. Curse you, deathly and loki. CURSE YOU ALL WHO ENCOURAGED THIS.
===
Danny was dreaming again.
It was an odd dream. An impossible dream.
A dream that didn't make sense, even as a dream.
Danny dreamed about being born alone in the world.
He blinked his eyes open in the midst of bright blue, took his first breath in liquid air, and the first cognizant thought he had wasn't even a thought.
It was the feeling of being choked by a tube, with wires wrapping around him as he sluggishly moved about.
Around him, there was the feel of metal, curved around him like a cradle, oddly vertical, with a large glass window to close off the cylinder.
And then the window opened and the floor was hard and cold, his lungs were burning as he hacked up the tube and liquid and breathing in air—
And when he blinked open his eyes again, his breaths were mirrored across from him, and there was another boy.
And then Danny wasn't alone anymore.
"Danny!" Danny startles awake amidst the action of reaching out towards the mysterious boy no older than 4 years old and looking strangely familiar. "Danny! You're going to be late!"
Danny brings his hand back, staring at it blearily for a moment before forming a fist and draping his arm over his eyes. His lungs expand harshly as his heartbeat starts to slow, cold sweet permeating his skin in a way that feels agonizing and minute—like he can feel each sweat drop forming.
Then the sound of pounding footsteps startles him to flip his blanket over as he brings his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up to rub at his face to dry and get the crusty traces of sleep off him. "I'm up! I'm up, alright Jazz? I'll be ready in a minute!"
Danny goes through his morning routine, getting ready for the big day. He and Jazz are heading out on a road trip towards New Jersey, traversing Pennsylvania from Amity Park all the way towards Jazz's chosen University: Gotham U.
It'll be the first time Danny will be away from Amity Park in all his 15 years.
His parents have always been protective of him, considering how accident prone he is, and they finally managed to convince them to let Danny join Jazz on a Summer roadtrip before he starts Junior year.
Val said she would cover the ghost menagerie, which shouldn't be hard now that he's gotten on better terms with his so-called rogues, and whilst he'll miss his friends, they've promised to text incessantly and send each other as many snaps as they can manage. Sam and Tuck will be on their own adventures anyway.
Danny's trying not to think about how this will also be the first time he'll be away from his friends.
When he heads downstairs for their last breakfast as a family, Mom and Dad are sitting on the sofa instead of the dining table.
"Mom? Dad?" Danny slows his descent downstairs, dropping his duffle bag off near the front door before cautiously making his way over. "What's going on?"
In the kitchen, Jazz is frantically making sandwiches to go, looking angry and nervous. When she catches his eyes she smiles at him gently, reassuring him that it isn't halfa-related. She's biting her lip though, which means their parents have dropped something serious on her shoulders and she's trying to keep it together until Danny is informed too.
"Danny, honey, there's something we've been meaning to tell you." Mom says, clutching one of Dad's giant hand in comfort. Danny has never seen her so nervous about something since…well, since she thought Danny was drifting away from her when he first got his powers.
"Okay…?" Danny looks towards Jazz again, who shakes her head and continues to pack food into a cooler bag. He sits himself gingerly down on the armchair beside his parents, feeling adrift and alone against their united front. Even Jazz, working silently behind them in the kitchen seems to blend into the tableau.
Mom takes a deep breath, sharing a look with Dad and trying several times to say something and failing. Dad rubs her back gently, looking increasingly like he might explode.
Danny fidgets, worrying at a hangnail on his left hand—the scarred one, with the silvery lichtenberg pattern all over it.
Finally, Dad can't take it anymore. Instead of his usual booming voice though, Dad…well, Dad's voice is practically a whisper. Danny strains to hear what he's trying to say, so jarred that it takes a moment to really register what he's saying.
"Danno, you're adopted."
Tim has noticed something odd, about the Demon Brat.
Sometimes, the Demon Brat would look to his left, as if to start a conversation, or as if anticipating someone saying something, only to freeze. Just for a moment, a half second, because nobody was there, before looking away with painful expression.
Months later, Tim decided to stand there, just to see what would happen. The brat didn’t look at him once, and Tim found that curious, and odd.
Another odd thing about his new, murderous brother, is that he refuses to look into the mirror. That’s not true, exactly: he would look in the mirror for basics, for necessities.
Tim realized, months of observations later, that the brat didn’t look himself in the eyes.
Strange.
Tim had asked him, once, why he didn’t. As expected, all he got was a “It’s none of your business Drake.”
But that didn’t stop Tim from wondering. Tim is, if nothing else, curious to a fault and persistent to an illegal degree.
And so the strangeness would continue, and Tim would wonder.
The brat would look to his left, pause, and then look away. He would deftly avoid mirrors, and when asked why he would sneer and avoid those questions, too.
Until he didn’t.
Until he came back to the Cave battered and beaten, some dreary autumn day, the Demon Brat unusually sullen and quiet and off his game. He had sat through the lecture Bruce had given him, and sat through the quiet reaching out from Dick, and sat through the cajoling teasing meant to rile him up, to get him to say or do anything per the norm, with an unusual aplomb.
The brat apologized, said he was fine, and ignored the rest. He told Bruce he wouldn’t patrol tomorrow, and would stay home from school, because clearly he wasn’t feeling well.
It was like Damian wasn’t there, fully.
So when Tim saw that the brat’s door was open, the next day, he peeked in.
Of course he did.
And there the brat was, sitting in front of the full length mirror he usually had covered with a cloth when it wasn’t in use, reaching up and staring directly into his own reflection’s eyes.
“Demon Brat?” Tim asked, stepping in and concerned about the look in the other’s face. There was no answer.
“Damian. What’s wrong.” Tim stood behind the boy, watching as Damian touched the corner of his own reflection’s eye.
“The color’s wrong, Drake.” Damian finally said, matter of fact and almost broken, absent-minded.
“What?” Tim asked, trying to see what he was talking about. Nothing was wrong, nothing was changed. Damian met his eyes through the mirror for a long moment, but Tim didn’t understand.
“The color.” Damian reiterated, looking at his own reflection again.
“The color? Of what?” Tim and Damian were never close, not really, but he was starting to feel like something was slipping away, in this moment. Damian dropped his hand, and finally looked away.
Without answering, the boy got up and carefully draped a cloth over the mirror, ushering Tim out of his room silent as the dead.
“Leave me be for today, Drake.” Tim reached, opened his mouth to try and say something, because something was wrong, but what?
But Damian simply shut the door softly.
The sound of the lock engaging felt strangely, and utterly, final in a Manor full of lockpicking detectives.
Tim laid a hand on the door, and mourned.
#this was not supposed to happen#demon twins au#angst#dcxdp#danny phantom#dcu#damian wayne#danny fenton#my writing#boy in the mirror#mirror au#will mirrors actually be involved?#maybe who knows i certainly dont
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Ohhhhh I got an idea while listening to The Offsprings' This Is The Last Time 😅 would you maybe do an imagine where Bucky and the reader somehow have an affair but every time they're in bed, they tell themselves it's the last time because they don't wanna ruin their friendship. But of course they're both always on each other's mind and neither of them can't stop thinking about the other one. So after another time sleeping together, it's enough for Bucky and he keeps pushing her back into his arms as she tries to leave before anyone notices, and he asks her to stop hiding and finally be his girl, and of course she says yes ? Smut and fluff please if you like ♥️
OMG OMG THIS IS MY FIRST REQUEST ON TUMBRL, AND I'M SO HAPPY IT'S A BUCKY FIC, LIKE YOU'VE NO IDEA.
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SENDING ME THIS MESSAGE @twistersmaverick I hope you like it!
English isn't my first language, so I apologize if there are any kind of spelling mistakes
Also that Offsprings' song is really good, but when you said that reader said that she doesn't want to ruin the friendship she has with Bucky, THIS IS THE SONG THAT STARTS PLAYING ON MY MIND FR
youtube
"THAT'S MY GIRL"
You and Bucky had been friends for a long time.
When the captain introduced you to the team, the super-soldier couldn't take his eyes off of you. You started out as a friendship that eventually turned into something deeper.
That's how you ended up in his bed. You both thought it would only happen once, but after that, the times you'd sneak into each other's rooms late at night became more and more frequent.
One of those days, you found yourself between the soft sheets of his bed while he kneaded your hair with his metal hand. His fingers would slip through your locks every so often, making you reach out to him like a cat looking for sunlight.
So you decided to break the silence.
-This has to be the last time, Buck -you whispered, making him stop his movements -I don't want this to ruin our friendship
Bucky watched you for a moment, before slowly nodding his head.
-If that's what you want, that's what we'll do, sweetheart - he murmured, accepting your decision-
After that little conversation, you didn't slip between his sheets again, nor did he slip into yours.
During missions, you worked well together, as always. But when night came and Bucky reached out to the side of the bed where you usually slept and you weren't there, something stirred in his chest.
The same thing happened with you.
The days became an ordeal while each and every night you wondered if the sergeant missed you as much as you missed him.
In the end, the tension you felt for each other ended up exploding after an intense mission to recover a dangerous artifact manufactured by Hydra.
The entire team was exhausted, so they went to rest in their respective rooms. Wanda had been seriously injured, so Vision had moved in with her in your room.
That's why you resigned yourself and asked Bucky to let you sleep with him as you had done many other times. Only this time it was different.
You laid down on the side of his bed you usually laid on, and after saying a simple “good night” you snuggled up against the pillow and closed your eyes to try to get some rest, trying to ignore his powerful presence behind your back.
Then you felt his powerful arms gently holding your hips to pull you closer to him. For a moment you let him do it, enjoying the contact, before slowly moving away, eliciting a growl from him.
-We can’t do this, Buck -you whispered- What if someone finds out?
-No one will find out, baby -he assured- we've been very careful these past few weeks, we can continue to be so
-I don't know what I'm supposed to say to that - you said somewhat embarrassed by his sudden touch on your lower belly, the contrast between his flesh hand and the metal one made it increasingly difficult for you not to give in to him-
-Don't hide anymore -he murmured whispering in your ear- be my girl, doll
Slowly his hand slipped into your pants and into your underwear, making you let out a gasp.
The way you opened your legs a little more was enough for Bucky to know what your decision was before you said it out loud.
-Okay –you swallowed hard- I'll be your girl –you said making him smile- please Buck… -you gasped when you felt how the index finger of his metal hand separated your lips to catch your clitoris and play with it between his fingers-
-That's my girl –he celebrated when he saw how you lowered your hand to hold his wrist- look at you, always so desperate for me –he murmured as you moved your hips against his hand- fuck, you're taking me so well…
-Another one –you asked in a low voice- Bucky please… I need…
-I know, princess –he whispered- I can feel how you squeeze against my finger –he said moving it against you, making you lose your mind little by little- open your legs for me, honey –he ordered- I want my girl to cum –he growled in your ear- Can you do that for me?
-Yes – you gasped, moving back against him – I'll do anything for you – you confessed – please…
-Okay, princess – he stammered, smiling amusedly – I'm going to make you cum, because you've been a good girl for me – he whispered – so you deserve a reward for it, don't you think?
You nodded, unable to say a word, before you felt him add a second finger inside you, moving in sync with the first.
A muffled moan came from between your lips, as a gasp came from his.
You covered your mouth with your hand to keep from making noise, but he slowly removed it.
-Don't do that -he asked gently- I want to hear how good I make you feel- he growled making you moan louder- come on baby, I know you're close, I can feel you- he panted pushing his fingers deeper inside you-
-Bucky… -you murmured- I'm going to cum…
-Do it, baby –he whispered- cum for me
You unloaded against him hard and as you tried to catch your breath, you felt I saw him finally pulling you into a hug as he whispered:
-That's my girl
#bucky barnes smut#james bucky barnes#bucky fanfic#bucky x reader#writters on tumblr#writterscommunity#my story#byvoice
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If you're still taking requests how about lion Ford protecting dog Fidds? I'd imagine a situation like this was propably the first time when Fidds heard Ford roar.
(Also nerd fact: while a lion's roar isn't as majestic and loud as a tiger's roar it's much deeper and can carry over 8 kilometers.)
so. this one got a bit out of hand, it was supposed to be 4 pages max but uhhhh *gestures vaguely* yeah.
(also, here's an audio of a lion roaring for your enjoyment)
source
So! some notes abt this one:
The reason why Fiddleford was affected by the music and not Ford is because it only works on people who don't know the faes tricks, it is also why Ford is so guilty about this, in his mind this whole ordeal could have been completely avoided if he just had warned Fidds in the first place.
Some more worldbuilding! Doing "animalistic" things is considered something embarrassing/childish, since usually only kids "fail to control" their instincts (kinda like how crying is usually treated) . So because of this, these types of actions are usually only seen between family/close friends and rarely in public. (yes i did take this idea from beastars. it is a good one what can i say)
On the same train of thought as above+personal hc sprinkled in, i image that just like how Ford isn't a physically affectionate person (at least in his younger years) due to his upbringing, he also would be the type of person to be averse to doing instinctual things like the roar above, which is why he's embarrassed abt it after the fact.
After this little stunt, fae aren't seen in the area for years after, locals who knew abt their existence are confused but also relieved abt this turn of events.
And also, transcript of the text down below:
IMG 2:
Ford: I'll go grab my coat, be right back
Fidds: sure
IMG 6:
??:ROOOOORRRRRRR
IMG 7:
Fidds: wha... where
??:rooooooorrrrrrr
Fidds: WHO'RE YOU?? SHOW YERSELF!
Fidds: i'LL LET YOU KNOW, I GREW UP WRESTLING PIGS BACK IN THE FARM. DON'T TEST ME!
IMG 8:
Fidds: Stanf-
Ford: Are you okay?
Fidds: im fine, wha-
Ford: Did you give them your name? Eat anything?
Fidds: no no- Ford what WAS that?
Ford: Fae folk. They are know for luring victims into the forest and disappearing. By the looks of it i reached you just in time, any second later and well... I should have warned you about them, im sorry.
Fidds: Hey hey! It's fine, you found me pretty fast there, no need to be a worrywart.
Ford: Fidds. It took me half an hour just to reach you.
Fidds: Ah...
IMG 9:
Ford: ...
Ford: Let's head back, it's late
Fidds: So... that was a pretty mighty roar back there, huh?
Ford: Ah. I just momentarily lost my composure, please just forgey about it.
Fidds: Ha! as if i could!
#fanart#gravity falls#stanford pines#fiddleford mcgucket#lion pines#goat asks#went a bit above and beyond with this one but i couldn't resist
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TO YOU I BELONG: CHAPTER 2
Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist
Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader
Summary: Dean isn't looking for a mate, and the last place he expects to meet his soulmate is while on a case. Fate ain't real. He still has free will, and saving you is just another part of the job. Except, monsters aren't the only things you need saving from... 18+ only MDNI
Chapter Word Count: 4.1k words
Chapter Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, language, referenced physical abuse, referenced sexual assault, injuries to reader
A/N: I wanted to have this out a few hours earlier, but my brain couldn’t help playing around with things… Enjoy ❤️
Previous Chapter || Next Chapter
The way the heat radiated off of you was just as Dean remembered, reminding him of what little memories he had of his mom of all things.
Your softness. The curve of your hips. Your body moulding perfectly into his. Okay, that was nothing like his mother, he hoped, but he was enamoured. If anyone dared attack him in that moment, they’d have done serious damage to you both.
Fuck. He was growing soft. It was hard not to be when his inner alpha acted so possessive.
‘Mine,’ it rumbled. Snarling and gnawing away at his resolve piece by piece, even though hours earlier, the responsibility and temptation of a mate was something he didn’t want.
‘She deserves better,’ he tried to reason with himself. Though anyone and anywhere different was an improvement on living here with your alpha in this middle of nowhere cesspool, and ‘We’d never hurt her,’ countered him back.
No, he would not. Nor would Dean ever try to scent or mark you while you were injured. He was determined by that. Knowing if he planned on claiming you, he had to wait and do things right. If you agreed and became his, anyone who tried to whisk you away as he had just done wouldn’t live to tell the tale, and…
What the hell was he thinking? Claiming you? Making you his?
How ‘bout where the fuck was your supposed alpha? The one whose stench soured your own. That was the important question.
How could the rat-bastard leave you alone for the taking like that after everything you’d been through?
Dean would never let you out of his sight. He’d never do this to you in the first place, either, and his fingers flexed where they held you.
He was quick to release them.
‘Round your side and under your knee, the action caused your thighs to squeeze together and your breath to hiss on its inhale. It was the first genuine sound you’d made since the park.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said.
He didn’t dare use omega again. Not now. Not to your face. His alpha could call you that term all it wanted, but with your matted hair now feathering the stubble on his chin when you shook yours, his gut churned.
“No. You’re helping me,” you said. “I should be thanking you.”
You may as well have struck him with a blade. Reached right through skin and flesh and into his stomach cavity and assisted the churning; further twisted his insides with your bare hands to yank them out, even. Hell, he’d do it himself. Save some time. Same effect.
“Yeah, well, I let you go back to your alpha before I knew how he’d treat you,” he said. “I should’ve known better.”
“I told you I—”
“Don’t.” He clicked his tongue. “You know I’ve thrown a lot of punches? Been on the receiving end of them too, and there’s no way those injuries were from a doorknob. So you wanna try me again?”
“I said I fell,” you whispered, and Dean stopped in his tracks, crackling the gravel beneath his boots. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
He bent his torso to leer a cocked brow, regretting that decision the second his spine moved. What little light there was above revealed more than he’d bargained for.
Yes, your thighs tightened above his arms. But so did every joint, muscle and nerve ending in his own body along with them.
Your right eye and the opposite cheekbone had distinct patches of mismatched colour, spreading. He’d say you were wearing lipstick. Only the last time he checked, makeup didn’t come with a clear, watery film around it. No. Dean knew an uppercut when he saw one. He knew the strength of an aroused alpha, too.
The shirt you wore had ripped more, and though his initials were still sitting right there, they were harder to distinguish because abrasions and puncture marks now covered them.
He felt sick. That churning in his gut would spill over you if he weren’t careful.
How?
Why?
You were his mate. Even without his scent, the swelling that billowed from your neck gave that away.
You weren’t in heat; from the scent, he wasn’t in rut, and that information just made Dean’s blood boil more than it already was. “Did he force his knot on you?”
“Ritchie…is my mate.” And your pause was telling.
“I don’t care who he is. That’s not what I’m asking you. What did he do to you?”
As if a switch had flicked, or in this case, floodgates opened, the stench of your alpha’s sack wafted up into his nose, along with more fear from you.
Your eyes filled with tears. Your limbs scrambled to pull away from him. The added stench of pine and a cheap aftershave that wasn’t his swept through the remnants of cum and sweat. But as much as that recoiled him, Dean still leaned back, taking a firm grip to shift your weight in his arms. He wasn’t letting you go.
He took a deep breath over the shame hitching in his throat, and, “I’m sorry,” he said again. Only this time, it held more than one meaning. He just hoped he could make it all up to you.
When Dean reached the carpark of the motel, his feet kicked up faster across the ground.
“Sammy!” he yelled, not caring who heard him - he’d punch the lights outta anyone who got in his way.
His steel cap boot was raised and ready to strike the chipped wood as he yelled a second time, only for Sam to beat him to it by opening the door. His mouth, just as wide.
“Dean?”
There was no lost puppy in sight. No soft and caring younger brother who could get even a drill sergeant to crumble with one look. His eyes scanned their way across your form, though, widening along with everything else before they narrowed, honing in on where Dean’s initials should’ve been. “What—”
“What do you think?” Dean curled his frame through the door, allowing your feet to enter the room before him and the fluorescent lights to highlight the marring on your skin.
“I’ll get some ice,” Sam said, and swept his way to the fridge.
“Grab the first aid kit, too,” Dean barked back as he carried you over to his bed.
He dipped your toes to the floor, keeping his arms near as you found your footing; lifting a fraction to see the full extent of his claim. The bruising was still forming. Your skin wouldn’t turn black and blue for another couple of days, but the swelling, plus the dried blood and weeping cuts, showed early signs of infection.
His stomach stopped mid flip only to drop like a stone, heavy and solid. It sloshed the bile up his pipes, crashing over that hitch in his throat. It burned. His shoulders shrunk. His knees buckled below him.
How could… No. He could ask that until the cows came home. Until his mouth was black and blue from lack of air, it changed nothing.
“Sit down, sweetheart,” he said. Course, it wasn’t a command, but your hesitation made even his toes clench.
He needed to sit. Chuck. He needed to punch your alpha’s head in - both of them - and he dropped to his haunches, encouraging you down, too. Arms rested on his thighs, holding himself up even though every molecule and thought weighed him down.
He could hunch over this way. Push the acid and lack of self worth back into the pit of his gut and away from you. Close enough to touch when needed - and fuck, he wanted to - his knot still twitched at the thought. Skin crawling with an itch he shouldn’t scratch, just to add on to all the other effects the sight of you did to him.
But what to say? What to do? This was really fucking awkward, spinning miles ‘round Sammy’s looks in the car.
You still sniffled. Gaze well directed away from him and looking down. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see those eyes of yours up close if they were gonna rival the puffiness of your injuries, but he tried getting their attention, anyway. His amber greens flicking over his initials again and going with that. Anything to drown out everything else.
“You know the, ah, the W stands for Winchester.” His boyish chuckle tethered off when your lip curled. “And you’re—”
Dean knew your name from the missing persons sheet, but hearing you repeat it then and there was a much needed do-over. If it weren’t for your injuries staring you both in the face, you could almost class this moment as normal. You’d been with him on the hunt and this could be a good old stich-up. Nothing more.
“Right.” He repeated your name, surprised at the way it rolled off his tongue with a pleasurable rumble. It suited you. Hell, it suited him. “Will you let me clean you up?”
“Okay.” You nodded. Mouth and body out of sync until he gave you one back and your smile spilled a smidgen further into your cheeks.
There you were. The omega he’d seen at the nest before he’d touched you and brought all this on.
His fingers flexed. Insides unravelled into a warmth that made his heart thrum faster and his head feel light. “Then we’re gonna need a few things,” he said, and stood up, distracting his mind and knot as he scoured the room for something that resembled a washcloth and a basin. Made easy by the grime and grease before him.
The film on the fridge. The stench of cigarettes competing with Ritchie’s. You didn’t belong with him, but you didn’t belong here either. That became more apparent as he moved throughout the room, collecting what he could.
Coffee-pot, brewed twice with water for cleanliness, then usage. A clean shirt from his duffle, sniff-tested first, and a bottle of Jack he found in Sam’s. By the time Dean returned to sit before you, chair and supplies in tow, he’d returned with the ice, and a compress was made. Dean’s shirt doing wonders.
“Here. Hold this,” Dean brought the icy bundle up to your mate’s claim and placed it over the inflamed skin. Covering the offending sight felt damn good, but a twang of guilt hit him hard when you let out a sharp hiss at the contact.
“Ah, Dean, sorry to interrupt, but can I talk to you real quick?” Sam asked from behind him.
“Can it wait?” Dean could tell by his voice alone that Sam had a meddling look in his eye, though he had that on the daily.
“No, it can’t.”
Dean hesitated. He was determined to help you with your wounds, and the last thing he wanted to do was listen to Sam ramble over something he knew nothing about.
Still, he agreed, leaving the room with an “I’ll be right back,” and the door ajar so he could hear if you needed him.
“What the hell, Dean?” he said as he paced under the awning outside the room. His hands shoved in his pockets, straining them, arms stiff as a board, even though his elbows flapped everywhere like some giant chicken.
“She’s hurt.” Of course, Dean knew full well what he meant - he didn’t need to play dumb. He had planned to come to Sam in his own time after he’d finished helping you as intended. Thanks to the interruption, though, he was now indignant, standing tall even with the messed up insides. They still dragged him down, but he put up a fight.
More so, when Sam struck the cord, he wished to forget.
“What happened to her being nothing to you?”
“I wanna help her.” He needed to.
“And you can,” Sam scoffed. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing. She already has a mate and—”
Dean shook his head. “The son of a bitch raped her, Sammy,” he said, self-blame replacing his usual gruffness and spitfire. He wasn’t at fault for what had happened to you. He understood that, but that didn’t mean he didn’t hold some accountability.
Your alpha had struck you because of him. He’d attacked you. Forced himself on you in what Dean could only presume to be a bout of jealousy, and all he saw was the part he’d played by taking you home to him.
“You know that’s not on you.”
Yet his eyes grew dim all the same. He lowered them, focusing on the ground. His boots scraping the pavement, now the most fascinating thing in the world over Sam’s, which widened when he said, “I ain’t letting her go back to him. If she doesn’t want me, that’s her choice, but there’s no way that fucker will ever lay a hand on her again.
“O-kay. Let’s ignore the part about you wanting her for a second. What’re you planning to do about him? If they’re bonded, chances are he’ll be sniffing ‘round here soon.”
Dean was hearing what his brother was saying. He was, and he had a solid point. He’d need a plan to set you free, but bonding? “I don’t think there’s a bond between ‘em. I found her in the park outside their building, and he was nowhere in sight.”
“He could be asleep?”
Dean’s chin receded into his neck. “You realise how ridiculous you sound?”
“Do you?”
Those words turned Dean’s body still as if he were made of stone. Eyes stuck and narrowed like the wind had changed. Jaw tight. Maybe he had fallen asleep after popping his knot. The asshole hadn’t filed the report when you were taken, your coworker had, and “I’ll deal with him if he shows,” he said.
“Dean. That’s not what—”
“Are we done?”
Sam sighed. His right hand left his pocket, and he gestured back to the room behind. “I’ll be in the car.”
Dean hadn’t even finished closing the door behind him when the smell of fresh tears flooded his nose. He’d swept across the tattered carpet once again and sat on the end of the bed next to you before his mind had even registered it was happening.
Just as his own instincts had pushed him to you, yours buried your face in the crook of his shoulder. His flannel soaked up your tears.
He wanted to ease your pain, but what could he say? He didn’t have the right to comfort you because he hadn’t protected you when you needed him. His soulmate. Not that he understood what that meant.
He was a grunt, with nothing to his name, and you were, well, he still had no fucking clue besides knowing you had his initials on your skin.
The norm was for him to want you. The scary thing was, he did. Far too much for his liking.
He had lusted over you and continued to do so even now, when he was supposed to be helping you. If your mate’s jealousy was dangerous, Dean’s instincts were more so.
They swooped his arm behind your back, letting your fingers grip his shirt. Letting your tears soak into it. He even had the audacity to brush his lips through your hair and place a chaste kiss, only to feel disappointed when you let him go.
“I’m sorry.” You sniveled and swiped at your eyes. Only to wince when your palms got too close. “Where’s your brother?”
Of all the things you could have said, your concern for someone other than yourself had him more smitten. There was seriously something wrong with him.
“He’s sleeping in the car tonight.”
Your hands wiped at your eyes, and you pushed yourself out of his hold. “I don’t want to put him out.”
Dean would never stop you, but he couldn’t deny that you moving away from him didn’t sting. “You’re not.”
Taking your cue, he reached down and picked up his wet shirt. It had seeped through to the floor below, but that was an improvement. The tatters didn’t just need a wash, it needed to be burnt.
“Let’s get more ice on your neck. We gotta stop that swelling.” And Dean needed to concentrate on you.
He stood up and moved to the table where Sam had left the bucket earlier, and after refilling his makeshift compress, came back and took your hand again. “Here.” He positioned it over the icy bundle to hold it in place. “You’ll need some on your eye too, but that bite is a priority at the moment.”
Of course, there was still that ulterior motive to keep the offending section of skin covered, but as selfish as it was, Dean hoped that by forcing his own scented item over the top of it, you might form a bond with him.
Yeah. He was delusional, so he set the internal struggle aside, and got to work.
His hand reached for a piece of gauze floating in the now tepid water and squeezed the excess back into the coffeepot, while the other cupped your chin and pulled you to face him. With steady fingers, he brought it up to your cheeks and dabbed as gently as he was able.
“Sorry,” he said when you hissed at the touch. He needed a recording if it would save his throat some pain and allow that lump to heal.“If you wanna do this yourself, I’ll help you to the bathroom.”
“No.” Your head jiggled more than shook. “It’s bad enough I can feel it.”
Dean could understand that. Not that he feared what he saw. For him, what he couldn’t grasp was seeing your face marred that crushed him, raising the question of how.
He knew the logistics of it. You’d been struck a number of times, and while he still suspected jealousy was the cause, it made no sense. Why would your mate do this to you?
“Do you love him?” He knew he was crazy to ask, but truthfully, he wanted to know if this douchebag did or not.
“What?”
It was a simple question, and very telling that you answered that way.
“Your alpha. Do you love him?” He repeated, waiting for any unspoken clues you might give.
You took your time. For Dean it was agonising, but when you did speak, his heart panged with relief and dismay. “I thought I did,” you said. “But I didn’t think he’d do this either.”
Dean’s eyes glassed over your neck. Your claim didn’t swell like that earlier. It seemed unusual to him for an Omega not in heat. “You wanna tell me what happened?”
“I met my soulmate.”
He swallowed hard. “So he did do this because of me.”
Your head moved against him. “He didn’t believe me when I told him you didn’t want me.”
You had struggled to finish your sentence, but you didn’t need to for Dean to understand. Though he couldn’t see your face, the room was now flavoured with rejection, and while it relieved his doubts of self-worth, it upset him to know you thought that.
“But I do want—”
“Please don’t. That’s not you doing the talking. Your instincts are.”
Just as you’d said, your neck and the punctures that formed a ring around it continued to draw his eyes. “You don’t know that.”
“I do. Mine are affecting me, even though I have a mate. If you had wanted me, you wouldn’t have taken me home.”
Dean often struggled with words, spitting out whatever came to him at the moment, whether they were full of shit or something else. But he wouldn’t let that thwart him. Not when the stakes were this high.
He dropped everything and adjusted his arms to scoop you up into his lap.
Your chest heaved, your brow grew sweaty, and his sharp senses heard the blood as it flowed to all the correct places in your body. Inside his, it did the same.
“You’ve got it all wrong.” Dean’s fingers moved on their own accord, pulling the hand and arm that attached to them to trace over the scratches and cuts that covered your shoulders. “I thought you’d be safer with him.”
“So did I,” you said. And it sliced him deep.
You hadn’t meant it that way, but Dean’s psyche was so full of self-loathing that even though he wished you weren’t, he had already decided you were fearful of him.
Depleted and forever quick to act, he lifted you with ease and set you back onto the bed. “I should get you some more ice.”
He picked up his shirt and moved to stand, but before he could, your gentle touch gripped his arm. “Alpha?” The pleasant sound warmed his ears and tugged at his chest. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not scared of you.”
You were more perceptive than Dean thought.
“Well, you don’t need to be scared of him anymore either,” followed the smirk that curled his lips as his back turned away from you. He really did need ice.
Four hours later, Dean was still wide awake while you slept under a pile of blankets in the bed next to him. Wearing sweats instead of his jeans, he sat up against the headboard. His ass, purposely on top of the covers. His knot just as alert as he was.
Morning wood had never been more painful.
It hadn’t taken long for you to go down for the count after the first-aiding was done, no doubt exhausted as well as sore, but he worried about how your body would react when it woke up.
Last he’d seen you walking, your step held a jockeys gait. All movement, purposeful and slow.
You’d had no issues showering. It had just taken some time. Maybe if he’d helped, things would’ve gone faster, but he didn’t dare offer. Even though his inner alpha wanted him to.
You’d also had no issue stealing his jacket, having taken it when you thought he wasn’t looking. The washed-denim sleeve poked out, as did your toes next to it. The sight of both bringing out his biggest grin.
No wonder he couldn’t sleep. It was just a shame he had to confront your mate.
He wasn’t scared at all. Nope, far from it. He couldn’t wait to punch the fucker’s lights out. But you were still his, and a small fragment of Dean’s mind feared you may choose him, even after the horrible treatment you’d endured at his hands.
With a groan, he leaned over and fished for his phone. It was close enough to six to not be too early for coffee, and he swung his bow legs to the ground, stretching his arms out wide; gaining two large cracks from his neck and shoulders as muscle and bone satisfyingly pulled away from each other.
He then braced himself to stand with his hands on his thighs, but the sound of blankets shifting and a fresh wave of omega scent laced with undertones of him flew under his nose, stopping him in his tracks. It brought another smile to his face and another rush of blood to his groin.
But he had a job to do. A mission. A quest. And without further ado, he jumped to his feet and shuffled towards the bathroom, keeping his morning wood pointing in a direction he hoped you couldn’t see if you were to rouse. There was no way of hiding it when he was standing.
He was quicker about things behind the closed door. No one could argue Dean Winchester wasn’t a multi-tasker. From brushing his teeth to taking a much needed leak, he accomplished it all under the icy stream he’d chosen to cool himself off with.
Thoughts of you, Ritchie, and what he was going to do plagued him while he washed. They continued to follow him as he dried off, then carefully slunk through the main room to further afield outside, where he found Sam cramped on Baby’s back seat.
The deep brown mop of Sam’s hair rose behind the matte black paint of the Impala’s side, sticking up against the window from the static that came with a cooler morning’s air.
“Rise and shine, Sammy.” Dean fisted the glass above his brother’s head for added effect. Sam was lucky he hadn’t opened the door on him, because that had crossed his mind.
He wasn’t that cruel. Mediocre at best.
“I need you awake, man,” his voice hissed through the cracked open window.
“Dean?” Sam’s startled head flayed around the Impala’s cabin.
He stepped back to give his brother space to get out, throwing the room keys at him when he surfaced with no warning.
Sam’s large hands fumbled as they landed on his chest. The silver tumbling through his knuckles like a creature come alive. “What’s going on?”
“I need you on babysitting duties.”
“Babysit—Where are you going?” Sam stared at him dumbfounded until Dean flashed his best smirk.
One could say he was being cocky, and maybe he was. But in this instance, he needed all the confidence he could muster.
“To deal with Dick,” he said.
Previous Chapter || Next Chapter
Are we feeling the connection? Do we hate her mate? Did I name him Ritchie just so I could make a tonne of Dick jokes? You bet I did! Have I used it enough? Eh, time will tell, but I sure had fun with the next one!
Chapter 3 - Confronting - 07/03
Inside, Dick’s every movement was under his scrutiny. He wanted him to fuck up. To say or do something stupid. That way, Dean had probable cause. It would make whatever he ended up dishing out sit better on his conscience if he heard Dick admit it himself.
So Dean poked the bear. Outright asking him, “Did she say that while you were raping her?”
“I marked her as mine.”
Those words were Dick’s second mistake. He’d just given Dean the chopping block.
“And I suppose she didn’t ask you to stop when you hit her and tried to scratch my initials out of her skin, either?” Dean’s voice remained void of all emotion, even as the anger bubbled in his gut. If he held a mirror to his soul, Dick’s face would have been its reflection.
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guh if I may info dump for a second about my stupid blorbos under the cut
I think Sora understood what true love was in one key moment in Kingdom Hearts.
Right here, Riku sacrifices himself for Sora. (This being the second time Sora experiences this after messing with the Timeline in the Final World.) This is something Riku is clearly destined to do. To defend Sora with his last breath, knowing he doesn't stand a chance, when everyone else is already gone.
To change the timeline, we know that Sora has to sacrifice something important. Things get a little bit fucky. We know this light he's following is Riku. Later, after he's given up whatever he had to sacrifice he goes back to this tunnel of darkness leading to light. We see this.
Sora's logic doesnt seem to follow here. How could the light in the darkness be Kairi if she's right next to him? Moreover, the light in the darkness before WAS Riku. Sora called out to him, and it dropped him off right where Riku's heart was. The only thing that makes sense is if Sora's memories are being meddled with again. I think the precious thing Sora sacrificed here was his knowledge of the true love Riku felt for him. Kairi was gone, and Sora was pulling her out of the darkness, not the other way around. So, it seems the two were in the darkness together, being drawn by the same light as before. The only person present during Sora's emergence from this weird darkness tunnel both times is Riku.
For contrast, this is what it looks like when Sora is being drawn to the other hearts.
For whatever reason, his connection to Riku is different. And, for whatever reason, Sora seems to forget about his first time being drawn towards the light in the darkness and whose light it ultimately was, with some dialogue miscounting the number of hearts he saved. Perhaps he forgot about saving Riku entirely.
Whatever way you think Sora feels about Riku and/or Kairi, safe to say that the way Riku himself feels is unique, and because of his maturity, deeper. He sacrifices himself in a way that no one else in this series of events does. Sora makes an impulsive grab for the Power of Waking not understanding the consequences and not caring, so that sacrifice isn't really maturely grasping his fate in the way Riku did. Riku knew when he stepped in front of Sora that there was no way he was going to survive what was about to happen, and does it anyway, just to give Sora a little more time and a small hope of Sora being able to save himself. I don't think anyone else has really done that in the series for Sora, and it has a profound effect on him that probably has him realizing and fully understanding exactly why Riku is the way he is for the first time.
repeating this image because, I think this is a very honest expression of someone realizing the true breadth of another's feelings for you. I think thats something very valuable and very precious, even if those feelings are unrequited on Sora's part. True love is one of the main things Sora wonders and ponders about and wants to understand, and his understanding of it was the precious thing he gave up to use the Power of Waking.
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Sora “what the heck is true love anyway” Kingdom Hearts
#but thats just a theory a gay theory#I am so Soriku pilled#or at least Riku Canon Gay pilled#so that definitely colours my analysis of this event#i dont think soriku endgame actually but i do think riku gay as hell for this dummy
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The Wigmaker Job
Okay, back with a more nuanced take of the story. Spoilers for The Wigmaker Job under the read more. It is also a bit long.
First of all: Courtney Woods, who wrote The Wigmaker Job, clearly has siblings or has an editor who does because the Dellamorte boys interact exactly like brothers and I love it.
Now that that is out of the way, I will admit that some of the 'Lucanis is acting like a dick' genuinely comes across more like how siblings act with each other than him actually being a dick. For example, letting Illario tie the Venatori to the chair, then stabbing him, and then drawing out his sword smirking as Illario gets out of the way of any blood splatter so as not to ruin his very nice outfit. That is 100% how me and my brothers would be if we were assassins.
But then we do get to less sibling-like dickishness and more just being a dick. Lucanis changing the plan on Illario or just leaving him in the dark. Like the shortcut through the venedhal sculpture, or the fact that they weren't going to sneak into the party and not go through the front door. Sure Lucanis scolds him about reading the dossier, but considering the plan seems to have changed at least twice that I caught (how to get into the party maybe, and then when killing Ambrose), either Illario has learned that the dossiers that Lucanis writes will only have a suggestion of a plan, or the plan has already changed from what was written down and Illario is trying to figure out what's the new plan. Lucanis tells him "you'll see" when asked outright what the plan is. Twice, in fact. And a third time by a slave. Poor Illario is so fucking done with that phrase at the end of the story.
Also, Lucanis absolutely seems like he's looking down on Illario for his skill-sets even though they absolutely come in handy. Not only that, but Lucanis imagines at one point Illario arguing "but seducing a beautiful woman is hard work" and honestly, yeah - I'm with Illario on this one. People skills - especially skills that involve being that level of charming, distracting, while also pickpocketing the head of security - is absolutely hard work.
Which, segue into DAV: we actually see this a couple of times in the game where Lucanis outright tells Illario that 'this isn't your kind of job' because there's no one to seduce, charm, or distract. He and all the Crows that comment on his skills are entirely dismissive of Illario. In The Wigmaker Job, we see a little bit of Illario's skill with a blade where he throws a blade (I'm assuming a knife) past Lucanis's head in order to kill a guard. That is not an easy throw to make, but sadly we don't really see him do much else because in The Wigmaker Job Lucanis stops him every other time he goes to kill someone.
Which brings me to a line in The Wigmaker Job Illario says that really stuck out to me:
"Never known you to have a soft heart."
Context is that Lucanis stops him from killing a witness - a slave who their mark is clearly starving and abusing (they can see the 'seams of her joints' and the wig maker ripped all her hair out of her head because she had split ends). Illario is clearly surprised by this. Between this line, the comment on Lucanis's "cavalier attitude", and the line where he asks when Lucanis is going to 'stop doing Caterina's bidding' leads me to think that normally Lucanis wouldn't have left witnesses.
Which honestly makes me wonder if all the plan changing during a job is also new. It almost feels like to me that perhaps that isn't new new, but something that has been slowly developing and is finally coming to a head in this particular job, because Illario honestly seems shocked when the exchange of "That's not the job." "Fuck the job." happens. What kills me, is that that exchange is on the very next page from "That cavalier attitude's going to get you killed."
Either way, Illario is pretty obviously worried about his cousin and honestly, if I was in his shoes I would be too. From what I can tell Lucanis is acting erratic, but not erratic enough to get called anything but "cavalier", and taking unnecessary risks.
Oh my gods does he take unnecessary risks. In the name of 'vengeance' Lucanis stabs a magic crystal keeping demons at bay rather than just killing their mark when they have a chance because, and I quote: "Death's too good for this bastard". Which I don't disagree with but because of this he get three broken ribs, and has his hip, thigh, and bicep "perforated" by razor-sharp, demon-possessed hair. And then he walks to the dock - while bleeding - to find Illario, refuses a healer, and has Illario bribe the tavern owner to stop trying to kick him out - again, while he is actively bleeding out in the tavern.
Gee, I wonder why Illario would ever be concerned about Lucanis's behavior. /sarcasm.
I am going to preface this next statement with I am not a psychologist. These are purely my own opinions.
Overall there are a few things that have stuck in my mind after reading The Wigmaker Job:
Lucanis drastically (and unnecessarily) changes the plan at least once, possibly twice depending on what was in the dossier he gave Illario.
Lucanis has abruptly, according to Illario, developed a "soft heart" and not only spared a witness, but sought vengeance on his mark's victims (again, not part of the contract).
Illario openly expresses concern that Lucanis is doing things in a manner that he's worried is going to get Lucanis killed.
Lucanis is badly injured and doesn't appear to do anything to actually bandage himself up - outright rejecting the idea of getting a healer.
Illario's whispered "Even if it kills you." line near the end of the story.
I am not the first person to make this connection, and I probably won't be the last, but I think Lucanis is feeling trapped in his life and is looking for a way out. The people he spared/rescued/exacted vengeance for were all slaves, and he clearly cares very little about his own well-being. Furthermore, he is delaying returning to Treviso at the summons of Caterina and his conversation with Illario after the job makes it pretty damn clear they both know Caterina is going to name Lucanis as her heir, even though he decidedly does not want it and thinks Illario deserves it.
While I don't think he's necessarily trying to get himself killed, I also don't think he can see a better way out.
"It's impossible to refuse Caterina," Lucanis admitted reluctantly. "Only prolong her, until she sees reason."
This quote feels like the crux of his predicament. Lucanis cannot tell Caterina 'no'. Caterina has molded him too well for him see any other path than the one she lays out, no matter how much he denies it and wants otherwise. Since that's the only option he sees, he starts leaning towards the only other path available.
Which brings me to Illario. I mentioned earlier that Lucanis is clearly acting unlike himself but not so far as to be considered 'erratic' so much as 'cavalier'. However, I'm not sure Illario recognizes what's going on until we get to the whispered "Even if it kills you." line. I think it is at that point that Illario has put all the pieces together and realizes he is watching the start of what is essentially a glacial-paced death throe.
In that moment, Illario probably decides that if nothing changes then he is going to watch his cousin die either via 'cavalier attitude' during a job, or watch as the job of First Talon slowly kills him from the inside out. This is - in my opinion - the first domino that truly falls which leads to their events in Veilguard.
I think Illario uses the desire to have title of First Talon as well as how Crow politics work to justify to others (and maybe to himself a little bit) as to why he tried to have Lucanis killed. However, I do not for a moment think Illario wants Lucanis dead. I do think Illario feels that it would preferable for Lucanis to be dead so he can mourn him once rather than mourn all the little deaths that will be witnessed.
#dragon age#dragon age veilguard#dav#The Wigmaker Job#Illario Dellamorte#Lucanis Dellamorte#opinions#just thinking out loud about my guys#If you saw this before#I'm sorry#Tumblr wouldn't show this in the tags
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Hi, vacations are killing me rn (I am going on multiple walks to explore, and damn I am busy)
But I did have time to listen to vocaloid songs, and I got me a little idea~
It's very sweet too
Okay so there's this song that despite controversy (the controversy is actually silly dw about it) that's about mocking the trope of "tsunderes" so this girl has a crush on a classmate and calls them a "small fry"
I think yk where I am going
Hell yeaaaah the tweels get their own game turned on them because of all the teasing they do to their crush and have to risk that their crush is going to get tired one day and try to leave because excessive teasing is not that enjoyable
"Loser, loser.. despite all of my bullying, you still have a crush! ♡" (rough translation)
"Your reactions are just so cutee! I can't get enough ♡" - Something Floyd would say about his dear shrimpy
"Hm? Did you join my club to spend more time with me, Prefect? :)" - Maaybee something that Jade would say to his darling pearl
Their teasing can be really cruel sometimes, yet they still care? Maybe? It makes you feel overwhelmed and used because they keep stringing you along with all of their joking, pulling you close to only laugh at your flustered face but they are not clear with their emotions and it's frustrating!
One day, the two of them gang up on you cooing mockingly (perhaps) about how cute yet pathetic you are! You had enough you get up from your desk instead of curling yourself in embarrassment until the two leave you alone and get up to stay away from them
It's the first time you have done something that's out of the ordinary, and while normally they would enjoy this unexpected change, but it's different when you start crying while walking away from them, frustrated clearly!
"H-hey! Wait, don't leave me! I will apologize. I am sorry -" (rough translation again)
So they chase after you because they care deep down, but they are stupid
And I only thought about these two for the "small fry" thing, hehe
-Vaquita (I am alive)
hi vaquita! i missed you very nice to hear from you again!!!
i think i know what song you're talking about?? a miku one right? i'd have to look it up i remember hearing the discourse on it, but i don't really interact with discourse all that much so idk for sure
i think Floyd would get a kick our of a tsundere s/o most! just look at how popular FloRid is, i think part of that Riddle could potentially fit into the role of the tsundere (at least in the fics i've seen). But Floyd likes it so much because he thrives off the reactions and pushing your buttons. it's the fact that you try so hard to be composed and fail each time that he likes! Though, I can see him getting bored after a while if these are the same reactions you give, especially if he knows that you like him a lot. He gets frustrated that you won't just be upfront with your feelings, and if you can't do that why is he still playing around with you, putting in all the work when you won't do the same?
Jade I think finds it cute at first, but will get bored quickly since he sees through you so quickly. Why must you hold yourself back? Isn't it tiring, isn't it a chore? Wouldn't it be much better if you were honest with your feelings? With Jade, he's wanting to see just how deep your feelings go for him, and have you chase after him! Maybe if he changes up your interactions, you'll just have to force yourself to be more than a little tsundere, forced character development hehehe.
#mochi asks#vaquita anon#twst#twisted wonderland#jade leech#floyd leech#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#jade leech x reader#floyd leech x reader#i sometimes like tsunderes but if it goes on too long in a plot i get annoyed#gimme some character development!!!
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WIP Wednesday
Time to share another snippet! And it's actually happening on a Wednesday this time! The lovely @amoremagnificentbastard tagged me this time, so thank you! 💖
I've unfortunately had a bunch of things getting in the way of my writing time lately, but here is yet another piece of the upcoming third chapter of A Fitting Reunion. And we're starting to move into NSFW territory, so check it out under the cut!
"Let me state the obvious because it seems obvious is what you need: I love you." How new to your ears those words still are and yet you already think the sound of them sweeter than any song. You beam at him, because of course you do, and he beams right back, because of course he does, because this, this togetherness, is what you both want, what you both need, what you both deserve. That look, so full of adoration, beckons you forward, and so you move in slowly, kiss him softly, hold him sweetly. He does the same, at first, an arm wrapping around your back, the opposite hand snaking its way down to cup your backside. Not that you resist. Nor do you resist when, unexpectedly, he pulls you hard against him, laughter bubbling out of you from the surprise and the clumsiness of it. And yet, here you are in his lap, and here he is guiding your legs to straddle him, and it dawns upon you just how suggestive this new position is. Even the slightest roll of your hips might have… well, quite the arousing effect. Oh, he knows exactly what he's doing, the sneak. And, if this is how he wants you, then that must mean— "And," he says before you can finish the thought, "I'm willing to explore anything and everything that loving you means." Anything. Everything. Never have those two words sounded so sublime, his voice like velvet, his implication indisputable. Your imagination runs rampant, unlimited and unsuppressed, your mind opening itself fully to passion and possibility. And you hope imagination will blossom into beautiful reality. Astarion buries his face into your neck, peppering it with little kisses—maddeningly where you know he knows it tickles—revelling in every giggle he draws out of you. Vexing though it is, yes, the levity of it amuses you, calms your nerves. You did, back in those early days, feel most ease with him whenever you would let yourselves be silly. You remember it well. Perhaps so does he. And then—when tension fades, when you are limp and pliable in his arms—the mood shifts. Then, he kisses you where it doesn't tickle. Then, those sounds spilling out of you are decidedly not laughter. His mouth moves to meet yours. A heady mixture of love and lust swirls about in your mind, and you succumb to it, to him, to every brush of his tongue and graze of his teeth. Almost embarrassing how little it takes to make you squirm about in his lap—but his body answers yours just as readily, the twitch of him against you leaving no doubt to his burgeoning desire. This is really going to happen, isn't it? "And"—you mourn the loss of his lips—"if all of this is somehow not obvious enough"—but his husky tone has you enraptured—"then let me be clear: I will not be satisfied tonight unless and until I've fucked you thoroughly."
No pressure tags (and my apologies to anyone who has been tagged recently already!): @strixamans, @denesmera, @goodgirlgonebard, @verbenaa, @larvasmoon, @vividiana, @inkymoonbunny @dramatiquechipmunk, @khywren, @roguishcat, @larvasmoon + anyone else who wants to share something! ❤️
#wip wednesday#wip games#snippet games#astarion#bg3#bg3 astarion#astarion fanfiction#a fitting reunion#my wips#my writing
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