#and maybe. not to be shady. but maybe.... some of you guys.... need jobs or hobbies. bc its not this serious. i promise.

[sadie-wolfdawn]

not sso positive, not sso negative, but a secret third thing (adult w a job)

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Villains: Ranked By How Much You Could Trust Them To Babysit Your Child

As requested by anon. :)

You need a babysitter for your kid, and for reasons unbeknownst to me, you can only entrust your child to a Cosmere villain. But fear not: this list will aid you by ranking how much you could trust said villains with your precious child.

[Big Spoilers for villain actions throughout! I'd steer clear of any characters from book series you haven't yet finished. However, there is nothing from Wind & Truth previews]

1. Taravangain [Stormlight]: Your child has...slightly better than even odds of being fine

Taravangian is one of the few villains who actually did order a group of children be put to death--remember when he was highly "intelligent" but the child choir was bugging him so he ordered that they all be killed? Not great credentials for a babysitter! On the other hand, his subordinates did talk him out of child murder, and presumably his subordinates would also be there with your child. So your kid probably wouldn't be executed by royal order!

...But I'd maybe stay away from Taravangian.

2. Miles [Mistborn Era 2]: Not the worst choice

If I remember Miles correctly (and I hope so, because I'm not really checking), he's the sort of villain who would have been one of the protagonists in Mistborn Era 1. I mean, his whole thing is that he wants to do what's right and stand up for the downtrodden through loads of murder, which--good resume for Kelsier's crew, am I right? I think your child would probably be fine--seems pretty safe to be strapped in a baby harness against the chest of an unkillable dude. Let's just hope he's not being fired upon by like seventy constables while babysitting.

...Maybe ask him to stay in your house for the job.

3. Hrathen [Elantris]: Are you willing to convert?

I believe Hrathen would actually take very good care of your child. He's a competent guy and doesn't want to cause any harm for harm's sake. On the other hand, you probably won't be paying him money--rather, I'm guessing he's gonna ask you to convert before he'll agree to watch your child.

So: Pros: You child is safe and healthy. Cons: You're a follower of Jaddeth now.

4. Crow [Tress of the Emerald Sea]: Not worth the price

The moment Crow has your kid, she's 100% blackmailing you into committing murder. That's just her MO. You're better off paying your neighbor kid $20 at that point.

5. The Sorceress [Tress of the Emerald Sea]: Uh...her literal thing is kidnapping

Come on, the Sorceress only knows how to do three things: kidnap people, curse people, and build hugely phallic rocket ships disguised as towers. I'm assuming you don't want your child to be kidnapped, cursed, or taught that all tall buildings should be inherently phallic. I'd steer clear of the Sorceress.

6. Odium, original vessel [Stormlight]: Pretty good choice!

What's promising about original-flavor Odium is that he likes to make agreements and will not only keep that agreement but also adhere to its spirit. All you need to do is get Odium to agree to keep your child safe, and Odium will do that!

Now, will Odium ask for something in return? Naturally. Will it be more than a cool $20? Yeah. And will your child be returned to you spouting some nonsense about how they must abandon all negative passions and become unchained? Well, yeah, but they're five. You can probably distract them with some Boo's Clues and they'll forget all about Odium's brainwashing.

All in all, not a terrible choice!

7. Odium, [spoiler-y] vessel [Stormlight]: Well...are you a really good lawyer?

Odium as represented by his new vessel will also keep to the babysitting contract--exactly as written and no further, loopholes fully exploited. So unless you can write an ironclad babysitting contract, you may return to find that sure, your child is physically safe, but they're now the face of a shady baby food company being used to smuggle exotic car parts across state lines. And nobody wants that.

8. Denth & Tonk Fah [Warbreaker]: Take them at their word

Denth & Tonk Fah will definitely tell you that, as mercenaries, they can't be trusted with a small child. Denth will say this in such an offhanded and charming way that you will definitely feel compelled to tell them, "Don't be silly! I know my child will be safe with you two."

Don't do it. Your child will NOT be safe.

Keep looking.

9. Telsin [Mistborn Era 2]: Not a great idea

Best-case scenario, being a good babysitter is somehow an important skill to Autonomy, in which case Telsin will in fact give it her all. You'll come back from your dinner & movie to find that your baby has a Harvard PhD and is mayor of a small town.

But more likely than not, if Telsin wants to watch your child, then she has nefarious plans that involve murder and world domination, and that's probably not the future you want for junior.

10. Straff [Mistborn Era 1]: No

Hahahahaha no.

Just no.

11. Lord Ruler [Mistborn Era 1]: Will immediately hand your kid off to his subordinates

The Lord Ruler is not gonna babysit your kid. He's gonna hand that child off immediately to his subordinates, the obligators. Your best-case is that the obligators also hand your child off to their subordinates, all the way down until your child ends up with a skaa servant who actually has some semblance of human love still in their heart. Worst-case, you find your child sitting on a dusty floor playing with spikes you hope are just rusty.

I'd recommend choosing a different babysitter.

12. Moash [Stormlight]: Not worth the risk

It's not like Moash is just evil for evil's sake or anything, but we know he doesn't have an issue killing innocents (RIP Teft) and he is currently trying to suppress his conscience wholesale. Now, if your child cannot be used in any schemes, I don't think Moash will hurt them for no reason. But if they CAN be used for schemes, then your child might be dropped off a tall tower to distract Kaladin or something. Best-case scenario, your child is returned to you safe & sound but has been given an Evil Baby Makeover (exactly the same outfit as before but it's black now).

I just don't think its worth the risk.

...Evil Baby Makeover might be kinda cute, though.

[cheolslz]

maybe getting mad at your boyfriends over something petty wasn't the best idea.

pairing; 95line x fem!reader

genre; smut (minors dni)

w/c; 2.1k

a/n - based on this request. this is not proofread at all so ignore if any grammatical errors 😔 it's my first full fic so I'll appreciate any and every feedback!

smut warnings under the cut!

warnings; mentions of a creep at a club, poly, established relationship, dom!95line x sub! reader, degradation, petnames (babe, love, princess, cockslut), unprotected sex (don't do this), oral (m. receiving), double penetration, anal, creampie, slight chocking, fluff at the end. lmk if I missed anything!

It's 8pm. You haven't checked your phone all day. you were supposed to be off work 2 hours ago but your boss decided today would be the perfect day to ask you to do their monthly statistics compilation. 

As you make your way upstairs the tiredness of the long workday finally kicks in. you sigh when you reach the door, wanting nothing more than to be in the comfort of your own home and your three boyfriends.

Hard days like this were guaranteed with a high profile job but you knew no matter what happens you’d always come home to the loves of your life.

As you open the door, the smell of your apartment fills your heart with a fuzzy warmth. You walk in and close the door behind you and it slowly hits you.

It's quiet.

Now living with 3 other people, there was always some form of noise in the house. Whether it be Jeonghan's tv show marathons, Joshua's guitar or Seungcheol listening to music, there was always some sound to fill the empty feeling in your ear.

A look around you can see that no one was at home. At first you assume Seungcheol was finally able to convince Jeonghan and Joshua to join the gym with him. You open your phone to see if any of them texted you their whereabouts.

[5:27]

Seungcheol : babe when are you off work?

Seungcheol : we were thinking of going to a movie 

Seungcheol : i know you said you weren't interested in this genre but we really want to watch it

Seungcheol : text us when ur done?

[6:07]

Jeonghan : babeee the movie is at 6:30 you’re supposed to be off work by now where are youuuu

[6:24]

Joshua : hey we’re at the movie okay?

Joshua : we came without you because you said you last week that you weren’t that interested in this

Joshua : we’ll see you in 3 hours <3

Oh. They went to see a movie. Without you.

They’re not wrong, you did say war centric and movies more than 2 hours weren’t your thing but, they could’ve waited right? It's not like it's only going to play at the theatre once. They could’ve easily waited for you and asked?

You're not the type of person to get mad about things like this. Usually you'd brush it off and move on but maybe it's the mixed frustration of work and your boss that you decide to make a phone call

“Hey are you free clubbing tonight?”

So, this was a really bad idea. It's 9pm, you're at a shady club and your friend ditched you to go hook up with someone. When you initially called chan he was constantly reassuring you that he’ll be with you all night because you need it.

His bad jokes and humour for a second did make you feel better but the minute you guys entered the club and he laid his eyes on this girl, it was game over.

You can't blame him, she was pretty as hell. If he wasn't rushing to get alone with her you would’ve asked her where her eyeshadow was from. Now you're alone at the bar, staring at the drink in your hand. Your phone keeps lighting up with notifications but you don't respond.

[8:50]

Seungcheol : babe where are you?

Seungcheol : we left early because the movie was boring you were right

Seungcheol : please respond to us

Seungcheol : i know you're mad at us im sorry

[2 missed calls from Seungcheol]

[1 missed call from Jeonghan]

[3 missed calls from Joshua]

[1 missed call from Seungcheol]

You feel bad. You should respond, you should let them know you’re safe but for this once you feel like proving something to them. What exactly are you proving? Well, you haven't really figured that out yet.

You're staring at your phone when a voice interrupts your thoughts

“Hey, what's someone like you doing here alone?”

You look at your side to see a tall man in all black. He has short bleached hair and a pretty face. You laugh off his comment, not wanting to interact with anyone right now.

“Im mark, i couldn't help but notice how pretty you are” he smiles and extends his hand which you accept with a smile. 

A few minutes of talking later, you start getting uncomfortable. Mark keeps trying to get you to leave with him even though you stated you had a boyfriend. He shrugs it off, his hand sliding to your waist and talking to you about how that doesn't matter.

You laugh nervously and excuse yourself to the bathroom, clutching your phone in your hands. You call the first person who shows up and he picks up in half a ring

“y/n? love where are you we’re worried sick”

“Seungcheol…im at levels bar please come pick me up there's someone making me uncomfortable”

You hear some shuffling in the background and Seungcheol reassures you that they're on their way. 

About 20 minutes later you get a text from Joshua saying they're outside. You have to convince them not to come into the club, not wanting the situation to escalate or get worse. You successfully sneak out of the club, thanking your luck that Mark was now occupied with some other girl.

As you spot your boyfriends, you see relief wash over them. They bombard you with questions and when you confirm you’re okay, they help you in the car and drive back. 

The air in the car is a little tense, no one clearly wants to bring up the topic of why you were at a club alone. Seungcheol had a rule you all followed - if there was something to talk about, you’d do it at home.

Once the car is parked, the four of you silently walk to your door. Jeonghan opens the door and lets all of you in. you take off your shoes and go sit on the couch, preparing yourself for whatever they’d ask you.

“Well? You want us to start?”

“I'm sorry” you say immediately, looking at the floor beneath you. You hear someone walking towards you.

A soft hand trails your face and lifts your chin to look up. Seungcheol has a small smile playing on his lips when he asks “what are you sorry for?”

“For getting mad at you guys and going to the club. I should've just told you i was mad at you” Seungcheol gives you a satisfied grin, his hand still forcing you to look at them standing over you

“We were worried sick, you know? You really almost gave us a heart attack” Joshua sighs looking at you. You give him a sad smile

“I'll make it up to you” you say and Jeonghan laughs loud, his voice echoing through the room

“Trust me you will” he says and walks over to you, his hands cupping your cheeks as he smashes his lips onto yours. He makes you lean back on the couch as he hovers over you, his lips moving in sync with yours as his tongue explores your mouth.

you feel the couch sink beside you and before you can see who it is, Joshua pulls you onto his lap, His firm body pressed on your back. You whimper as you feel his cock straining against his pants on your lower back. 

It doesn't take long before they’ve helped you out of your clothes and all four of you are naked. Jeonghan goes to the bedroom to grab a bottle of lube.

You turn your face to kiss Joshua, slowly grinding your ass on his cock as Seungcheol sucks on your neck. His hands fondle your breasts, squeezing the pinching your nipple to hear those oh so sweet sounds you make. your moans muffled by Joshua's mouth.

You moan into Joshua's mouth as you feel Seungcheol trail his kisses down to your breasts and suck on them. 

Jeonghan walks back in and tosses the bottle to Joshua. Joshua pours some on his fingers and circles your rim

“Gonna take me properly love?” Joshua whispers in your ear and you nod, unable to form coherent sentences. Joshua slowly aligns his cock with your rim and pushes in. The stretch hurts at first but the pain fuzes into a cloud of pleasure for you.

As Joshua slowly lowers you on him, Seungcheol aligns himself with your cunt. Unlike Joshua, Seungcheol isn't soft in the bedroom.

He knows exactly how to push you far enough for it to feel best, so he waits until you're fully lowered on Joshua's lap and he slams his entire length inside you. 

His tip his your cervix perfectly, knocking the wind out of your lungs. 

“F-fuck.. So..fu-full” you moan out.

You take a moment to regain your breath, back arched on Joshua as groans in your ear. 

Jeonghan, clearly feeling a bit left out, tangles his hands in your hair and pulls your face off of Joshua's neck. He slaps his cock against your cheek and lips as he smiles down at you

“Open up” he commands.

As you open your mouth and suck Jeonghan's tip, Seungcheol takes the initiative to move. He slowly drags his cock out and thrusts his full length into you again making you moan on Jeonghan. The movement makes Joshua hit deeper in you. 

Both of them start moving inside you. Seungcheol and him have a mismatched pace making you see stars as you suck Jeonghan harder. 

Jeonghan holds the back of your neck and thrusts into your mouth, making you take him deeper as tears well in your eyes. He throws his head back and fucks your mouth.

The room is filled with groaning and skin slapping as Jeonghan hits the back of your throat with each move.

“Such a pretty fucking cockslut. You like us filling you up like this huh?” Seungcheol grunts and moves his hips faster. You try to respond but the cloud of lust fills your mind as you feel yourself reaching your edge.

Joshua, the ever observant slides his hand down to your clit and slowly rubs his thumb against it. The sensation makes you moan against Jeonghans cock, the vibrations making him moan your name. 

After a few more thrusts you feel his movements stutter as he fucks your face. 

“Want me to cum in your mouth princess?” he groans as you slip him out of your mouth to answer

“P-please Jeonghan..ne-need it”

 Your pretty face begging for him is all he needs before he cums in your throat with a final thrust, painting it white. He pulls out and watches you swallow with a satisfied grin before collapsing on the couch next to Joshua.

The other 2 are not too far behind to follow, their movements becoming more erratic as they reach their highs. Joshua cums with a loud groan and throws his head back on the couch.

His hands keep moving on your clit as he comes down his high, his breathing heavy and inconsistent. 

“Gonna fill you up so well you wont even fucking think about pullling this shit again” Seungcheol curses and his hand wraps around your neck. The slight cut in air with the stimulation on your clit makes you fall off the edge as you cum on Seungcheol’s cock, his orgasm following yours.

Your releases mix together inside you as he rides out his high. You lay back on Joshua as he and Seungcheol slowly pull out. The emptiness and the feeling of their cum spilling out of you makes you whimper. Your thighs sticky with your mixed releases.

You slowly feel yourself coming down from that cloud as Joshua pats your shoulder

“You okay? Did we go too hard on you love?” he asks with slight concern in his voice but you shake your head no. They could never hurt you. 

The three of them help you get up and take a shower, laying out clean warm clothes for you and helping you lay on the bed. Jeonghan lays down next to you and pulls you into a warm hug. 

“Don't do that again okay? You really had us worried” he whispers in your hair.

“Im sorry, i shouldn't have disappeared over something so small”

you say quietly but the 3 of them hear it, they always do. 

Seungcheol presses a kiss to your forehead as Joshua rubs your back.

“We love you, don't forget that okay?”

[exocaliii]

❦︎ You've Been Walking, You've Been Hiding

(pt. 1) (pt. 2)

| Kang No-eul / Guard 011 x fem!reader |

side! | Se-mi / Played 380 x fem!reader |

Summary: For six years, you've watched your best friend and only companion mourn a child she barely got to know. Now, you're given a chance that might finally rid her of this lifelong guilt.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: mentions of self harm, death, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, occasional use of Y/N even though I try my best to avoid it lol, some jealousy and yearning, very plot heavy guys no porn this time...

A/N: first fic yay!! it's incredibly plot heavy (like seriously look at the word count man I haven't even reached the Mingle game yet😭😭) and tbh i've already written most of pt 2 (which dives far more into the romance part), but please please lmk what you think so far!! :D seriously any comments or messages or whatever are appreciated!! this is the "I wrote this cuz no one else did" fic

—

It’s been nine years since you've met her, and she’s still the most beautiful woman you know.

Her head is tilted back, shallow breaths filling the silence. You don’t make a move until you see tears flow down her cheeks, and by the time she raises an arm to cover her face, you’re already by her side. There are no words or even glances shared as you use the sleeve of your jacket to wipe the tears off her cheek. Though, for a split second as your hand lowers, you swear you see her head tilt in your direction, and maybe you’re hallucinating it (god knows what could happen after two bottles of whatever hard liquor that was) but your eyes meet for a brief second.

It’s a bit too much for you, and you need this night to end. Besides, you had someone to meet. She knows that.

“It’s late, Eul.”

It’s an unspoken suggestion for her to drive you home, but she doesn’t move - just looks over at you with a heated gaze and that’s all it takes. Whatever emotion she was trying to express is unknown to you, but it’s familiar in a way that deeply disturbs you. You’re the last person she should be looking at like that.

“...Alright then,” you whisper, placing your head on her shoulder. She doesn’t react, but she doesn’t move to push you off either. You should leave. You both know this.

God, you’re pathetic.

—

250 million won.

Fucking scammers. Who could even pay that much?

Your meeting with the head of some shady smuggling group based in North Korea went… alright. They were willing to help, but less optimistic than the last. What really went wrong was the price they were charging to help search for No-eul’s baby. Even if you worked your current job for 16 hours a day for an entire year straight, you wouldn’t have enough.

The thought of seeing her hope dwindling once again made you want to pull your hair out.

Perhaps it was this heartache that made you call the number on that card.

—

She’s known about the games for six years.

She signed up to kill people every summer for five years.

Today is the first day she’s genuinely, completely thrown off guard.

When she twists the scope of her rifle, she almost accidentally fires a bullet straight into your face with a twitch of her hand. Even after leaning back and rubbing her face in exasperation at her own mind supposedly playing tricks on her, she leans back into the familiar pad of the rifle to see your face once again. You look the same as the last time she saw you, which was barely two days ago. The strain in your face, the fear that twists your expression into one she recognizes from seven years ago - God, what the fuck did you get yourself into?

She lets out a shaky breath and readjusts her grip, her nerves making her hands quiver just enough that she has to lean back again to roll her head to relieve some of the newfound tension in her neck. When she finally lays her cheek back against the rifle, she’s quick to refocus her attention to another player, one that 012 (or was it 010?) failed to kill. It’s a disgusting ordeal, but she deals with it the only way she knows how to, even as her mind wanders.

Survive this game, Y/N. Do not leave me behind.

—

All you can do is clutch the number on your chest - 037 - after what had just happened. After you watched a woman’s blood splatter onto a young man right next to you. After you watched him flinch and die moments later, right at your feet. It feels like a fever dream when money begins to drop into the piggy bank above the room, and you’re told each 100 million won added was somebody’s life.

That woman and the boy were, combined, only 200 million won to the pile. You want to vomit.

You drown out so much of it, but when you hear talk of money being passed out to the “winners” of the game you all just played, you’re disturbed to find it’s only reached about 75 million. You’re even more disturbed by your immediate desire for more, more money to fill the pig’s empty stomach (and more lives lost, apparently).

When it comes time to vote, you can’t bring yourself to care much about the man who claims he had played these games before. His pleas mean nothing to you, not when you have 250 million won to conjure up in the next month to continue the search for No-eul’s sweet daughter. You hesitate for only a split second before you hit the O, and you force yourself to drown out the fearful cries to your left as well as the howls from the hungry wolves to your right.

A blue patch is placed over your chest, but you do not cheer with the rest of your side.

—

When night comes, sleep refuses to come to you. It feels like a punishment now, especially as you look at the young girl just diagonal to you. 095. She shakes like a baby in her bed, and the red X on her sweater shows you why.

Have you damned this poor girl to death? Maybe even the kind old lady lying across from her?

The sick feeling in your gut prompts you to get up and head over to the side door. Three knocks prompts nothing but silence, but you refuse to give up so easily. With another set of knocks on the door, this time hard enough to make sure the guard on the other side (at least you hoped there was even anyone on the other side) heard you, you spoke up.

“I’m sorry, I don’t feel well, can I please-”

Without you saying another word, the door practically swings open.

Standing across from you is a pink guard with a triangle mask. The rifle at their side draws your attention immediately, and some paranoid part of your mind wonders if they only opened the door so they could shoot you for interrupting their quiet time. However, the guard surprisingly only takes a small step to the side after a strangely tense silence.

“...Thank you…”

You scuttle past them and immediately head to the bathroom. The moment you enter, you rush to the sink, turn on the faucet, and let a stream of icy cold water fall from your cupped hands onto your face. For a second, this helps your heart rate slow.

What brings it back up is the sound of the door opening, and what spikes it is the fact that it’s not a fellow player that walks into the silent bathroom, but the guard. Based on their height alone, you can tell it’s the same one. This is even more frightening somehow.

Did you do something wrong? Should you have just stayed in bed? Why did you pick-

“Why are you here?!” The guard’s raspy voice interrupts your thoughts. Her question (you now realize it’s a woman) was just barely quiet enough to not be considered a yell, but the frantic nature of it still makes you blank out. You’re so afraid that you end up completely missing the familiarity your body feels at the sound of her voice.

“I-I’m sorry ma’am, I just need to wash my face, I’ll-”

You’re interrupted once again by the guard’s movements, but this time, she’s practically ripping down the red hood of her jacket to pull off her mask. She doesn’t even need to take off her face covering by that point, because a single short glance at her eyes, the ones you knew so well, were enough.

“No-eul…,” you choke out, staring as she pulls the face covering down completely to reveal the face you’ve known for nine years. Her hair is sweaty and sticks to her face in a way that you recognize from her summer shifts at the fair.

Seeing her here is only comforting for a short moment though, because the pink of her uniform against the green of yours is still visible in your peripheral as you take in her confused, almost panicked expression. Her eyes scan your face for an answer, not nearly as patient as she typically is, and when you refuse to even make a sound, she takes a small step closer.

“Answer me. You shouldn’t- God.” She runs her gloved fingers through her hair in poorly hidden frustration as she sighs and turns away for a split second. “You shouldn’t be here. Not in a place like this.”

You don’t respond, but she can very much see the frown on your face after that last statement.

“Then what the hell are you doing here?” It doesn’t take much for you to regain your snarkiness, but it clearly throws her off guard.

“It’s just a temporary job, and you know why I need it, so answer me.”

Yes, you know full well why she needs it.

“...I need it too, Eul.” It’s not enough for her. You sigh before accepting your fate. “She needs it.”

For a second, there’s silence. She’s confused, and you watch as the gears turn in her head and she slowly comes to understand the intentions behind your words - understands the blue O plastered on your sweater. Somewhere in the blank expression she’s trying so hard to keep up, you can spot the shame, the guilt, and the sadness washing over her at the realization.

“Don’t look at me like you pity me. This was my choice to make.” I don’t regret it.

When she fails to even acknowledge what you just said, you simply sigh and move over to the wall, sitting down with your legs pulled close to your body. As if it were muscle memory, she joins you a moment later.

For what feels like forever, you two sit in silence and stare at each other. She can’t stop glancing down at the patch on your chest, and you can’t stop glancing at the mask she placed at her side. When she notices this, her expression gets even more shameful, and she lowers her head.

“Eul…” She doesn’t answer you, but you hear the soft exhale she releases when she hears your voice. “Eul, I don’t blame you.”

You reach over in a bold move and take her gloved hands. They’re mostly steady, but you know her too well by now. Even the slightest tremor is enough for you to practically feel the shame washing over her in waves. When you attempt to hold eye contact with her again, she breaks it uncharacteristically fast.

“You should’ve never come here.”

You sigh heavily and as she begins to pull her hands back, you tighten your grip on them and lean forward.

“I want to find her, No-eul. Please let me try.”

She’s damned you, just as she damned her daughter. She’s sure of it.

—

Whilst others around you are quickly gathering into groups, you find yourself lost in the crowd. No one pays you any mind as they shove past you to team up with people they had been interacting with, but what could you do when you’ve really just been ignoring most of the people here?

It’s humiliating when you find yourself inching towards a group of men that side-eye you and turn away before you can even ask to join their group. To be fair, if you were them, you probably wouldn’t want the meek girl in the corner either. It’s life or death, and you can’t blame them for picking the former. All you can do is sigh and turn away, but before you can go far, a hand gently grabs your upper arm and spins you around.

“Hey, you have a team yet?”

380.

She’s a girl you made eye contact with only once, right before your late night trip to the bathroom. From her appearance, you would’ve expected her voice to be a lot more gruff, but it’s soft and gentle and draws you in immediately. In a place like this, it's normal that you find yourself easily drawn to any sense of safety you can find (especially when your usual safe haven is hidden behind a mask that dozens of others are wearing - others that are probably far more willing to shoot you in the head for trying to stick to them).

“No.” An awkward silence fills the space between you two before you remember why she’s even asking such a question in the first place. “Do you want to…”

You don’t get to finish that question - thank god - before she chuckles and shakes her head slightly, answering you by taking you by the hand and dragging you over to her group.

Standing with her back against the wall, an armed guard keeps her eyes trained on your every movement. When 380 takes you by the hand, her grip on her rifle tightens just barely.

—

In a twisted way, you almost found the last game to be fun. The cheers of the spectators, 380’s tight grip on your arm and quiet encouragement after you failed the first round of gonggi, it’s all kindness and attention you never typically receive. You can almost bring yourself to completely ignore the fact that you’re pretty sure you just got yourself thrown in with a group of two drug addicts (you don’t know how they managed to sneak substances into this seemingly sterile environment, but it’s very obvious they succeeded in some capacity).

What wasn’t fun, however, was watching the previous losers get gunned down by people in the same outfit as the woman you were empathizing with just last night. You’re actually 99% sure she was one of them, which makes it that much worse. You pity those who lost, and for a second, as you watch a young boy fall to the ground with blood seeping out from a single hole above his heart, you feel an indescribable hatred towards those putting these people down like dogs.

But then No-eul’s face flashes in your mind and you feel the ghost of her hands on yours, and it all fades away.

“What’s your name?” Your train of thought is interrupted by a soft and familiar voice. You turn to face 380 and are slightly thrown off at the sight of 230, 124, and 125 also waiting expectedly. Albeit with some hesitance, you give them your full name, and 380 nods in acknowledgment.

“I’m Se-mi.” Her choice to leave out her surname isn’t lost on you, but you ignore it for now. After all, you don’t really know this woman, and she doesn’t know you.

“Two beautiful names for two pretty girls.” Maybe you should’ve left out your surname as well. “I’m the legend: Thanos! I’ll revive half the world with my lyrics, so watch out.”

After Thano’s little declaration, you couldn’t really pay attention to the other two (Min-su and Nam-gyu, if your memory serves you well). The short shy boy that had been trailing Se-mi when she asked you to join the team was just as quiet as he was before, but now that you’re really paying attention, you realize that he bears a striking resemblance to someone you knew.

Laughter rings out as you chase him through the yard. Short legs, shorter than yours, don’t take him too far before your open palm collides with his small back, causing him to practically faceplant into the dirt. His muffled cries come out soon after, and even with your sorry attempts to soothe him, your aunt still comes running out, scolding you for playing so roughly with her young son.

It’s the last time you’ll see them, even if you didn’t realize it then.

You break your gaze away as you shift uncomfortably at the sudden memory - 125 is not your cousin, he’s a stranger.

You glance around the room for a bit before deciding you’ve sufficiently distracted yourself. When you draw your focus back towards Se-mi, you see her staring off into the distance as well, having made the wonderful decision to not pay attention to the drug-riddled rambling of the rapper who had become the de-facto leader of the group. As if she can sense your gaze, she breaks her staring contest with the wall across the room to turn her head in your direction.

As your eyes meet again, you don’t look away, and you’re pretty sure she smiles a bit at this.

Smug.

—

When it’s time to vote yet again, you’re just as set on your choice as you were before. The guilt of voting for the games to continue even after seeing 095 cry and beg for her life weighs heavy on your heart, but the money just isn’t quite enough for you to quit yet.

When you drag yourself back over to the side cheering and throwing their fists in the air for the death games to continue, you have to stop for a second and close your eyes.

No-eul’s face is so clear in your mind, and so is every memory you have of her crying over her lost daughter.

It’s easier to stand with these people when you remember what you’re fighting for.

—

Even with the confidence you felt in your choice, your guilt isn’t dispelled and you can barely bring yourself to eat the dinner provided to you. You push around the egg with your spoon, head cradled in your hand as you stare down at the ground; it’s a pitiful scene, and you’re probably scaring off any potential future teammates, but in the moment, you truly couldn’t care less.

“Does it taste that bad?” The voice is teasing, and you immediately know who it is before she even sits down beside you.

“I’m not hungry right now, that’s all.”

“Bullshit,” she says with a laugh, and you finally look up from the speck on the floor just to shoot her a dirty look. She responds with a mischievous one in kind. “You feel bad or something? Starving yourself isn’t gonna change the vote on your chest.”

With a heavy sigh, you shove a spoonful of rice in your mouth just to shut her up, but all you do is earn another laugh from her. It’s a nice sound to hear, but you'd jam your spoon into your neck before admitting something like that to her.

“Where are the other three?”

She raises a brow and slightly leans back, revealing Min-su almost tucked into her side like a shaking child. If you all didn’t share your ages earlier, you would've thought he was only in his late teens with the way he was acting. “Thanos and Nam-gyu are digging into their candy stash again, if you know what I mean.”

A loud unprompted Woo! C’mon Man! from across the room confirms her answer, and you scoff.

“Addicts.” Another laugh from her, and finally, you’ve decided that you’ve had enough with trying to eat when your body damn near wants to reject it. “So, why are you here then?”

“Same as everybody else,” she looks over at you with an expression that says ‘obviously.’ “I’ve got some debt I’m trying to get rid of.”

You’re about to clarify that you actually meant to ask her why she was here, next to you and not why she was participating in a bunch of death games, but you push that thought aside for now. Curiosity takes over as your eyes try to uncover something, anything in her expression.

Piercings, careless attitude, but her eyes are soft when she looks at you and Min-su. She seems smart enough. Beautiful as well. How the hell did someone like her get into enough debt to want to participate in something like this?

“Aren’t you afraid of dying though?” It’s a weirdly deep question that you regret asking as soon as it leaves your mouth, but she only does her signature smirk before answering you.

“There are plenty of things out there that can kill me too. This place isn’t so different.” Except for the fact that you’re now living with the possibility of being shot for failing a kids’ game, but alright, you can accept that answer. When faced with your silence after her answer, Se-mi lifts a hand to gently grab the blue patch on your chest, examining it with apparent interest.

“How about you? Why did you choose to die?”

It’s an incredibly morbid way to put it even though from her tone, you can tell she’s obviously joking. Either way, it makes you grimace and destroys the confident demeanor you tried to hold up to match with hers. What could you say to a question like that? That you signed up to get money for someone else? That you could maybe even have lived a debt-free, semi-peaceful life without this other person, but you would rather die without her?

“It’s… yeah, it’s debt money for me too.” The lie leaves your mouth easily, but Se-mi doesn’t look convinced at all. Her doubtful gaze burns holes into the side of your face, and you’re beginning to desperately search for something to take her attention off you. Your reprieve comes in the form of the slight movement you spot behind her.

You don’t actually know this woman, and for now, you don’t intend to.

“Min-su, how about you?” Her intense gaze finally breaks, and she shifts to look at Min-su as well.

“Huh?”

“Why are you here?” You force your voice to be softer this time, less urgent to match with his jumpy nature. He’s calmer now, but there’s still shame evident in his expression even though he hasn’t even told you two anything yet.

“I… I just had some student loans, that’s all.” Se-mi makes the same face she made at you towards him and he winces, obviously unwilling to spill his secrets. You almost feel bad for the guy, especially with the way Se-mi is beginning to pester him a bit now. Seems like two unnecessarily vague answers were pushing her buttons a bit, and the idea that you’ve managed to irk this carefree woman is kind of satisfying.

After a while of listening to their back and forth (which mainly consisted of Min-su asking Se-mi how she’s so calm in ten different ways), out of pure boredom, you decide to test the waters one last time.

“It’s not really debt money for me.”

This catches their attention straight away, and Se-mi looks far more interested in this answer than your previous one. You drop your eyes back to the ground in preparation for your admission.

“Then what’s it for?”

“I’m planning on giving all the money I win to someone else. They’ll use it for their own... personal reasons.” Not exactly the full truth, but it’s part of it and you think she deserves at least that after recruiting you to her team.

For a second, you expect laughter to break out right in your face. You prepare to answer questions about why you would risk your life for someone else’s goal, but it never comes. Instead, when you look back up, all you see are two pairs of understanding eyes, not a hint of mockery in their gaze.

If anything, Se-mi almost looks proud of your answer.

“Actually… I joined the game to try and help my mom out a bit, that’s all. I wasn’t able to get a good job after school, so I want to make up for it.” Min-su’s words sound like those of a young boy still trying to understand the world around him. “I’m all she’s got left now.”

What was someone like him doing in an evil place like this?

“Man, you two are making me feel kinda bad,” Se-mi says, chuckling to herself before leaning back a bit to look at you square in the face.

She doesn’t doubt Min-su’s story, and even though she doubted yours for a split second, she sees nothing but genuine honesty and a hint of embarrassment in your eyes. This revelation fills her with relief, and for the first time, she spares you both a genuine smile.

“I figured you two were nice, generous people when we teamed up.” The newfound but genuine friendliness she exudes surprises you, but it’s a welcome change. “I’m glad I might just be right, and I’m hanging out with some good people for once.”

“Well, I hope I could say the same about you.”

She throws her head back in laughter at this, and you begin to think that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to know these people after all.

—

“Can I use the bathroom please?”

This time, you don’t bother to knock, and as expected, your voice is all she needs to open the door and step aside. It was actually surprisingly quick this time too, as if she had been waiting on the other side already.

The air is tense, a feeling you never really associated with No-eul, but it’s late and the earlier conversation you had with your two new friends didn’t do much to dispel your undying anxiety about tomorrow. You can feel her gaze on you even from behind that mask, but you pay her no mind as you rush your wet hands across your reddened face and hair. The cooling effect is instant, and now, you finally feel ready to face her.

“Take off the mask, please.” Your voice is more exasperated than you intended it to be, but you can’t cover up the fatigue you’ve been feeling since the start of the games. It’s probably more of an emotional exhaustion thing, but you don’t want to think about all that right now.

As she’s going through the process of removing the layers covering her face from you, you begin heading over to the far end of the bathroom, eventually dropping to the floor with a heavy sigh. She’s staring at you expectedly.

“The gloves too.”

She doesn’t protest or even sigh, simply pulling them off her hands before shoving them into the pockets of her pink tracksuit. She takes this opportunity to run her fingers through her hair, bangs previously stuck to her face being pushed back out of the way. In that process, she reveals a red, clearly fresh cut on the side of her face. You practically jump up from the floor and stomp right back over to her.

“What the fuck happened?”

“Don’t worry, it was just a tussle with some of the other guards.” Your hands gingerly cup her face as you tilt it to examine the wound. She can feel her skin tingle where your fingertips gingerly graze it. “I handled it.”

You sigh heavily at her dismissal of the open wound on her face and walk around her to grab some paper towels, turning on the faucet to let cold water flow onto them.

“Fuck, No-eul, you’re not even participating in the games and you’re still finding ways to get injured.” Your hands are still shaking a bit when you come back over to her, gently dabbing the dried blood off her cheek. Her gaze is heavy on you, but you can’t bring yourself to look her in the eye right now. Not when you can practically feel her eyes all over your face, your body, every part of you.

As she stands there, No-eul’s mind begins to wander. How can you stand here, right in front of her after everything? Sometimes she genuinely believes you’re an angel sent from heaven to give her reprieve from the pain in her life; a gentle soul, who, even now, overlooks her greatest faults.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes out, gently taking your trembling hand in hers and pulling it away from her face. There’s an uncharacteristic softness in her expression, but you’ve seen it enough times to understand what it really conveys: guilt.

“You don’t have to apologize for something like this,” you say, clearing your throat as you turn to throw the paper towel away. “If you say everything’s fine, I’ll believe you.” Like always.

It's silent for a moment - almost peaceful - before her face twists as if she's just recalled an unpleasant memory.

“Who was that girl you were with? 380.” You scoff at her sudden question and turn around with pure confusion on your face.

“What?”

“She brought you over to those drug heads earlier. It’s not safe to hang around people like that, especially not in a place like this.” You bite back a response that said, well, you're currently with one of the guards that were gunning down people earlier, so how does that work?

“God, No-eul, it’s just a shitty temporary team-up kind of thing,” you laugh slightly at your own words, making sure to leave out your already growing attachment to two people in your little group. “What, did you expect me to try to do this all on my own?”

Her growing agitation is evident as her jaw visibly clenches and she turns away a bit, resting her hands on the back of the rifle slung around her shoulder. “I’m saying you should choose better, they’re the type of people who would drop you in a split second if it meant they could survive another day.”

“You think I don’t know that? Two of them are constantly high out of their minds and the other two-” You interrupt yourself with a sigh, shutting your eyes as your head droops; unfortunately, you can’t actually think of any reason you could have to distrust the unexpectedly kind girl and the shy boy you’ve grown acquainted with.

If they turned their backs on you, you would be lying if you said it wouldn’t phase you in the slightest.

No-eul begins feeling guilty again when she watches your shoulders drop and your eyes dim at the realization of the shitty situation you’ve found yourself in. Even so, her eyes don’t miss the unchanging patch on your sweater: a blue rectangle, neatly stitched with an O in the center. She bites her lip and curses under her breath. Always playing the hero, even at the expense of yourself.

She slowly walks back over to you, lifting up a single hand to trace the patch that signified your choice to give your life for hers.

“The issue isn’t the money,” the broker exclaims, his voice a mix of pity and exasperation at her persistence. “We’ve searched, we’ve been searching for years now, but a one-year old alone… especially after her mother deserted…?” Her expression hardens and he winces at the unintentional cruelty in his statement. “It’s almost impossible by now, No-eul.”

Her anger is barely contained when she feels a gentle hand on her shoulder, and a newfound calmness washes over her in waves.

“We understand the circumstances, sir, but please, please keep searching.” His expression softens slightly at the kind, weary smile on yours. “We’ll handle the expenses, all we ask is that you believe in this search too.”

She almost wants to cry at the sound of your sweet voice.

“We still have hope.”

“Get out of your head, No-eul.”

She’s startled back to reality when she feels gentle hands caress the scars on her wrists. Instinctively, she goes to pull away, but you step forward at the same time and press your body against hers, keeping a firm yet gentle grip on her wrists, fingertips still tracing the marks of the pain she’s held onto for seven years.

“Please don’t forget, this was my choice.” Your voice is muffled against the crook of her neck, but it’s just as gentle as she remembers it to be. “I still have hope.”

With those simple words, she feels the dream she’s held onto for years glow just a bit brighter. Closing her eyes, she leans head to rest atop yours, gently removing her arms from your grip to wrap them firmly around your body. You don’t hesitate to reciprocate her hold.

“Me too.” Your grip on her tightens just barely. “I still have hope too.”

—

A/N: WOW SORRY PLOT DUMP ALERT!! I love some good set-up but I hope the yearning was enough to make up for the lack of obvious romance like smut..

Never posted on Tumblr before too so I have no clue if I did this right (like formatting)! again, any thoughts on the fic are appreciated and ill probably (hopefully) finish part 2 soon! that part will prob be better cuz the relationship between all characters are all set up now. might cross post on ao3/wattpad but haven't decide yet

[sonnytoru]

can we get reader who ran away from home and is living on the streets and then toji stumbles into her after he got some stuff from the 7/11 and feels bad so he offers her to stay at his rundown apartment for a bit (can you add in some smut perhaps 🤭)

a/n : of course belleza !

✦★mdni , some angst , smut , afab!reader , loss of virginity implied , face fucking , cunnillingus , thigh biting , marking , fingering , oral , implied curse au .

PINNED PREVIOUSLY

"i don't have a home," your gaze was low, afflicted with guttural shame that twisted and churned at your stomach, or maybe it was the hunger, "not anymore, at least."

the man in front of you, frankly, made you pee your pants out of complete fear. yes, this man might be handsome, but he was menacing nonetheless. there were moments you had crossed paths, and the neon light of the 7/11 proved his features to be eerie. not his actions though, he wasn't around much but whenever he did he placed some food in front of you, and left without a word. but for whatever reason, he stayed today and began to...chat?

"haven't you asked for a job at the convinient store?"

you scoff, "don't you think i have already tried?" taking a fat chunk of the sandwich this bizarre man gave you, you continued, "they think i'm a junkie or something."

he crouched to your level, green eyes merging with your own, "you don't look like one though."

you laugh, even though it was muffled due to your full mouth, "because i'm not."

"want a job?"

you stop, ".....what—mmmgh, what kind of job?" you were homeless and poor, but your dignity and integrity was yet to be mangled. and if you had to run for your life in a few seconds because this guy turned out to be a psychopath, so be it.

"i need someone to clean my house, since i'm not home a lot. you up for it?" you exhaled your worries away. thank god it wasn't something fucked up! but hold on.

"you're...not gonna kill me, are you?" your words make him drop his head while he chuckles.

"not wasting my time with murder, c'mon." he extended his hand once he rose from the ground. your hand twitches in hesitance but nonetheless accept this kindness.

it took some months to adjust to toji's rhythm. he would come to his apartment, which wasn't anything pretty but livable nonetheless, spend three or four days around, then leave for weeks. his actions were completely shady in nature.

but with these months flying by, your relationship deepened. one summer night, when fireworks ignited the sky, you two had a heart to heart. conversations of sorrow, grief, and longing for life to be different turned into a hug and tear wiping, and this turned into you relinquishing to the desperation of closeness.

it was an unfamiliar yet thoroughly welcomed feeling of toji's tongue dancing on your cunt. you grabbed onto the strands of his dark hair as he split your folds open to insert his muscle. it was like a starved man tasting a five star meal for the first time, liking, teasing and nibbling on your skin.

"fuck you're so good, fuck keep going~" your hips moved at the compass of his rhythm. you jolt once you feel a finger penetrate you out of nowhere.

"shit! toji, what are you—oh~!"

"loosening you up." he said in-between kisses through your thighs. delight filled your heart by the blatant desire, of which has never known itself to you.

the tears you shed were due to a mix of emotions. pain, pleasure, comfort and happiness. quite the strange combo, but getting the embrace you have only dared to dream of. and you believe this feeling was mutual as toji held onto you delicately.

[acynicalsweetheart]

LOVE IS A LOSING GAME

pairing: pre-tulpar!curly x fem!reader

word count: 3.0k

content warning: age gap (curly's in his 30s), established relationship, daddy kink, praise kink, breeding kink, sex, tummy bulge, mentions of pregnancy, mild obsession/dependency, sort of sappy and soft here and there… canon events of mouthwashing do take place after this

author's note: hi… still nervous to death about posting even if i already shared this on my ao3. i think i yapped enough there so yah. first fic + smut ever btw LOL that's why it's so.. lack lustre. supposed to be the last day before his tulpar departure. any interaction appreciated! inspired by softer softest from rimqueen on here .

It’s the last day.

The last day, if your star-crossed streak strikes again, you’ll ever see your Curly. You don’t want him to leave, why would you? Most importantly, why would he? His job is proclaimed to be your full-time daddy, not up in the galaxy, not in the middle of spacefuck nowhere. 

It’s five minutes past seven pm. Five minutes past the time he was supposed to be home. Of course you’re worried sick, what if he left early? To the ship, that is. You’re just pacing, anxiously turning your engagement ring left and right, the one Curly got you. The one that sits painfully cold and tight around your finger, not pleasant the way it does when he’s home—a reminder of his promise. Right now, it’s your only comfort, worrying with you as you overthink, flipping through all the reasons of why he isn’t home yet. 

You don’t trust that strange guy he always hangs out with, that shady type. His name leaves a bad taste in your mouth every time you say it. Every time you hear someone else say it. What if Jimmy’s the one who took your Curly away? He looks like he would. You can’t stand the way he looks like a wet and grumpy street cat living amongst dumpster trash. Your daddy is nowhere near dumpster trash, you truly don’t understand what he sees in him. He’s fond of Jimmy in a way that makes this dark-black cloud of jealousy settle snugly in your heart. 

The fact that he’s going to be up there with him and not you, for twelve and a half months—more than a year, that isn’t right. If you got pregnant today, you’d have to raise your baby all alone. Curly says he’s going to marry you when he gets back. All you hope is just that he does get back. 

You’ve got a Curly-shaped itch between your legs that only his dick can reach. 

Seven minutes past seven pm is when you hear keys jingling outside the front door. Seven is certainly not your lucky number. You’re on him the second he steps in, jumping up into his lap, lips smashing onto his before he can even inhale. Curly grabs onto you like it’s his instinct to do so. Has it been seven minutes or seven years? 

“Daddy!” You cup his face in your hands, stubble grazing your palms, almost wanting to shake some sense into his head, eyes searching for his. “What took you so long?”

“Sorry, honey, I—“ Curly’s voice is quickly muffled by your lips again, you just couldn’t resist shutting him up with another kiss. 

In your defence, he shouldn’t have come home looking that kissable and that fuckable. 

“Thought I’d lost you...” it’s a breathy admission, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones like he’s the most precious porcelain doll. You hug him tightly, gripping onto the fabric of his clothes and hope that maybe, just maybe, you’ll both be frozen like this forever. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he chuckles reassuringly, bouncing you up and down the way he should be doing on his cock. “Daddy was getting fitted for his new suit, took a few more minutes than expected.”

You hadn’t even noticed that he was wearing it. Frankly, you don’t care what he’s wearing—you need it off, and you need it off now. 

“Yeah?” You ask as you pull back, taking another moment to look at him. 

“Yeah, fits like a glove,” Curly replies, seemingly way too proud. 

Like he is completely oblivious to the fact that he’s a walking, talking, living and comically oversized sex doll. Makes your stomach pool with the most uncomfortable cocktail of worry and arousal. How many people are gonna see him in that? Either way, you need to fit him like a glove. Right now, as a matter of fact. 

“Well, I missed you.” You pout, absentmindedly smoothing down the collar of his uniform. 

“Missed you more,” Curly noses at your cheek, saying that like he’s sure of it. 

“Then take me to bed,” it’s but a simple phrase, yet it makes Curly blush all the same, even at his age. 

“Alright, baby. As you wish.”

You drench Curly’s face and neck in kisses while he carries you to bed, hopefully getting him just as turned on as you are. Although you think you take the cake, you’ve been pining for twelve hours straight, since he left for work this morning. It’s hard, not being able to last one day without fucking the shit out of him. 

Curly sits on the edge of the bed, but you want him in the middle of it. You want it to be special, to honour the nagging feeling in the back of your mind that keeps telling you it might be the last time. You want it to be your very own, personal romance movie—starring nobody else aside from you and Curly. 

You straddle him, legs struggling a little to fit on each side of his, hovering over the spacious and sparsely golden-haired expanse of his thighs. You’d like to ride them sometime, feel what it’s like to get them sticky with your juices. There’s so many things you want to do with Curly, do to Curly. So many things you might never get the chance to do.

His hands settle on your hips for the moment.

You unbutton his uniform, actively working against your lack of self-control to not just rip it off. You unbutton it like there’s time, like Curly isn’t leaving tomorrow, like it isn’t fully probable that this is the last time you’ll ever see each other. 

Button after button, the blond tufts of ocean waves on his chest reveal, getting sparser and darker to the trail down to the marbles of his stomach. You can’t get enough of him, his majestic fucking stallion face, flushed cheeks, huge tits, ridiculously big dick; everything that makes Curly, Curly. 

You need him so badly you can almost taste it. Taste him. Somewhere in your reddening, quickening heart, you hope that he needs you just as badly. 

“Daddy,” you start, but he’s already undressing, tugging the uniform down his legs. 

“I know, baby.” Curly leans in to peck your cheek, makes quick work of taking off your nightie. 

He unclasps your bra the same way he’s done a million times before, leaving it on top of the pile of shed clothes. He pulls your panties off, helping you lift one of your legs after the other. Curly even takes off your fuzzy socks. 

Your pussy’s crying out for your daddy, leaking onto his boxers and darkening the fabric. You’re soaked to the bone, stripped to the bone, all for him. 

You’re the one who leans in to kiss him again, shivering when he moves a hand to the nape of your neck, keeping your hair from spilling onto your naked frame. Curly’s other hand smooths down your side before his roughened fingertips find your swollen clit.

If your pussy could talk, it’d be screaming how badly it needs daddy. 

Curly touches you gingerly, his kisses swallowing every noise you make. He never outruns the achingly slow and gentle way he touches you in, doing it all so softly as if you’d break if he did it in any other manner. 

He buries his face in your neck, peppering kisses up and down, lips lingering on the spots he knows feel good for you. But Curly doesn’t bite, doesn’t suck, doesn’t leave a mark like you want him to. He doesn’t leave anything to show that you’re his—that he’s yours. 

The circles against your bud are doing numbers even if his touch is nothing but ghosting, tickling the nerves. Your hips buck to meet his touch, craving the feel of his fingertips on every millimeter of your clit the same way anybody craves anything.

“Cum for me, baby,” he whispers knowingly, lips brushing against your ear. “Cum for daddy.”

It twitches under the pads of his fingers, eyes fluttering shut at the tingles starting in your toes and making their way up to your loins. Your blunt nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescent moons. Something little to show that he belongs to you. 

You tense up, head hanging low as you cum with a needy whine, translucent stickiness dripping down your daddy’s fingers and your thighs. Your legs are trembling, but it’s not nearly enough. 

“Need you inside, daddy,” you state the obvious before Curly even has time to tell you how much of a good girl you are, movements a little clumsy as you start pawing at the giant bulge underneath you. 

You can’t really tell if the wet spot on the midnight fabric is caused by him or you. 

“Shh... I’ll give it to my baby.” Curly places a tender kiss to your temple, his bigger hand covering yours, pulling down his boxers and finally letting his cock spring free. 

He tugs them all the way off while you gawk at him as if it’s the first time you’ve seen him naked. It’s thick all the way around, sticky in a way only pussies are—pink like his lips, his nipples, his cheeks when you embarrass him or kiss him in all the right places. Curly’s tip is reddish in moments like this, the colour creating the most erotic opalescent transition to his base and patch of golden curls. 

You take Curly in your hand, smiling at the heaviness weighing it down. His breath hitches once you give it a few idle strokes, sliding his leaky head against your leaky slit before lining the perfect pair up. 

The stretch never gets old, it’s painful yet familiar—something you’re used to after all this time. Curly helps you slowly sink down onto his fat cock, guiding you inch by inch, grunt by grunt, with his hands on your waist until he’s all the way inside you. He’s so big that his tip nearly breaches your cervix.

You feel him all too well, every vein, every ridge, every shape no matter the size. Every pulse and heartbeat—consuming your love through the tightness enveloping him, milking him for all he’s worth. 

But you fit around him like you were made for him. 

You waste no time starting to move your hips, the slick, slick, slick already echoing throughout the room from your wetness, watching daddy’s dick bulging through your tummy. 

Curly’s hands shift around your body, keeping you close to him by your shoulders one moment, guiding your hips back and forth the other. It’s not long before he starts humping you back. 

“You’re taking me so well, princess,” he pants, voice whiny as he places open-mouthed kisses all over your chest. “Taking daddy’s cock so deep.”

You brush his hair back, the shorter curls falling onto his damp forehead, take in his kiss-bruised and red lips as he keeps panting—and you think Curly’s never looked prettier. Never looked more like your daddy, yours and only yours. 

Tilting his head up to meet your eyes, you can’t help yourself, “I need you, Curly.”

The only time you ever call him Curly is in public. The only eyes watching are his, taking in your expression—your brows that are pinched together and tears that are threatening to spill over your waterlines. 

“Baby, don’t cry, ‘m right here.” He pulls you impossibly closer, sweaty bodies sticking together in a naked and tangled lotus flower. 

“Don’t go,” it comes out shaky - unsure if it’s ‘cause of the way your clit keeps brushing against him for every hump, or if it’s the sadness that sits just as snugly in your throat the way his dick does in your pussy. 

“I’m sorry,” Curly’s moans leak into his voice, “I have to. You know I’d never leave you.”

“What if it’s the last time, Curly? What if you don’t come back?” 

“Fuck, baby,” his cock stirs inside you, rubbing against your sweet, spongy spot. “Don’t talk like that, won’t be the last time. I’ll come back, you know I will.”

It’s a momentary comfort, words he can’t even be sure he’ll keep, your pussy squeezing him tighter than ever at the thought. You feel your second orgasm slowly building up in the confines of your tummy, the white-hot rush you can’t be sure is adrenaline or neediness running through your body. 

“Promise me, Curly.” Your legs tense shut around him. 

“I promise,” from him is all it takes to send you over the edge, waves of pleasure washing over you like a tsunami, sucking him in deeper as the coil in you snaps. 

You whine in tandem, noises blending together in a pornographic orchestra. Only difference is that Curly’s desperate to cum. You’re desperate for him to stay. He moves his hips up, you move yours back and forth.

“Oh, baby...” he says under his breath, struggling to maintain a steady rhythm. “I love you.”

“I love you, Curly.” You press your clammy forehead against his, breaths mingling as you pant into each other’s mouths. 

It makes his thrusts stiffen momentarily, his dark blond lashes fluttering like butterfly wings as he tries his best to keep his eyes on yours. Curly’s moans are breathless, his cock twitching against your walls, followed by the sticky, long-awaited warmth of his cum spilling into you. 

You keep up your pace, not wanting to let a single drop go to waste, hips grinding against his like you’ve got something to prove—which you do. “Want your babies, Curly.”

He winces, holds back another whine, you kind of feel bad for wearing his dick out like this, wringing his balls of every single last drop of seed. But he doesn’t tell you no, not ever, he’d beat around the bush if it meant not seeing the look of a kicked puppy on your face after not getting what you want. Regarding everything apart from his work, from tomorrow. 

“You will, honey. We’ll have as many as you want, okay?” 

Curly holds you until your movements go slack, bonelessly slumping against him. He lays you down, pulls out with a quiet, sticky pop, his cum trickling out of you - much to your dismay. Your pussy feels empty without him inside you, like it’s missing a crucial part of its anatomy. 

You’re both staring at the wall, his head resting against your chest, fingers tangled in his post-sex messy curls, massaging his scalp. You wonder what Curly’s thinking of, if he’s thinking of you. You wonder if there’s a certain spot that’d act like a key if you massaged it good enough, make him unlock and tell you all his secrets. All the things running through his mind. 

“Don’t leave me, Curly. Just another day, okay? Tell them you’re sick or something... don’t wanna lose you.” 

You stick out your pinky finger for him to grab, dwarfing it when he does. Curly doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a promise, doesn’t look you in the eyes. Just holds onto it, silently—like he knows he’ll let you down just as well as you do. 

And so you get dressed together, cook dinner together, sit bunched up on the couch together watching a shitty vintage drama about the Civil War just to make him happy. The question is if it’s all enough. 

He’s so okay with everything. 

It’s probably light on Curly—not having to see your worried face, quivering lips, stressed-out state. You wonder if he’ll even call, if they’re even allowed to call, if he even wants to call. 

You have a bad feeling about all of it. Not just that he could get lost in space, floating amongst the junk up there like that’s all he’ll ever be. It’s not only jealousy that sears in you, it’s this inexplicable feeling that you’ll never see him again. Like he might die. Or like you might die. From Curly withdrawal.

Who could go more than a year without seeing the love of their life? 

You wait for Curly in bed, wait for him like he is a million miles away already, somewhere in the galaxy even if he’s just in the other room. 

Your gaze drifts to the pile of clothes on the floor, memories of you and him tangled right here, on this very bed, flooding your mind in a way that is all too welcome—mildly bothersome. Your panties, his suit. 

That stupid fucking pony and its Pony Express logo ironed to the chest of his uniform. 

You want to hide it, tear it, incinerate it. If you did, Curly wouldn’t have anything to wear to work tomorrow. Knowing him, he’d probably show up regardless, but you wish there was a sliver of hope that he wouldn’t. Wouldn’t put it on, leave you, show up. 

You just let it lie there, on the floor—where it belongs. 

But he holds you all the same, lets his big arms lull you to sleep when the room’s pitch black and the smell of sex lingers faintly in the air. 

“Sweet dreams, my darling girl,” is lazily murmured into your hair, the scent of Curly comfortably overbearing as his frame eclipses yours. Is that going to be the last you ever hear of him?

“Night, daddy.” 

You dream of him, not unlike every other night. You’re married, you have babies, Jimmy’s out of the picture. Curly’s a baker, brings you home stupid and puffy pastries, and he’s too good at it. Too good at being your husband, at making you feel loved, at being homely in the way that suits him so perfectly. You fall asleep with this empty feeling imprisoning your heart—keeping it locked up behind bars until he’s unconditionally yours. 

The entire thing is too good to be true. 

Curly’s gone in the morning, he left you with nothing besides a dull ache between your legs and a pink post-it stuck to the bedside table. The cold metal of your ring sits mockingly mean and tight around your finger, strangling it so tight it cuts off your blood circulation. It’s a brazen reminder of your Curly, his promises. The fact that he may never come back. You wonder if he’ll ever be your daddy again—if he’ll ever be anybody else’s daddy. 

Your pregnancy test lies face down, two stripes for positive in the trash. 

[satansapostle6]

Love The Sinner | Dexter Morgan

Dexter Morgan, a vigilante serial killer hiding in plain sight, loses sleep for the first time in his life when he’s met with the very last thing he expected: a kindred spirit.

Warnings: Violence. Mature language and themes. Sexual content.

Part One. Eyes of Darkness.

Most people, when they’re getting arrested, shit their pants with fear. Some scream, some cry. Some rage, and some try to run, and some just freeze. That’s what you usually see, when you’re in your parents’ living room, and your dad can’t wait to turn on the TV to the channel dickety-six news, of all things. But sometimes, people have other reactions when being handcuffed and shoved in the back of a squad car. Sometimes people enjoy it, for one reason or another. I smiled when Miami Metro put me in cuffs on the news. Laughed, even. You see my story is many things, but boring certainly isn’t one of them.

Let’s start simple. My name is Nicole Carvalho, and as of today, America knows me as ‘Murderous MILF’. You really can’t make these things up; I love this country. I keep reminding myself, if I ever go free, I need to clip that out of the newspapers. But see, right now, at this very moment, I’m sitting alone in an almost blindingly white interrogation room at the precinct, waiting for a cop to question me while they study me on the surveillance footage. I can’t lie, I’m sitting back right now in my chair, smirking. You see, I killed the men who violated and later took my baby girl’s life, and I’m currently very pleased with myself.

I don't think my grandfather pictured this when he left Brazil. This truly is the American dream; committing a crime and letting your own peers decide whether or not it was justified. In all honesty, a jury will be much kinder to me than ‘God’ has been. So, I figured I’d let myself have this one thing. I think I waited about a half an hour before they sent someone in; a female detective. They must’ve figured a matching vagina couldn’t hurt. The first thing I noticed about this detective was that she was strikingly young; close to my age. I’m thirty-six, so I would estimate her to be maybe a little younger.

But apart from her age, the next thing I noticed about this detective was that she was very robotic in how she interacted with me; she didn’t necessarily look like she wanted to be there. She barely looked up at me when she came in, holding my files and looking down at them like a teenager doing a presentation in high school.

“So. Nicole Carvalho. I’m Detective Morgan.”

She sits down across from me less like I’m a murder suspect and more like she’s interviewing me for a secretary job. I look at her, sitting forward as I join her in the conversation, still smug as ever. I think she was secretly hoping I’d say it, the four words that usually drove most cops insane that, for some reason, no one ever thinks to say in the movies.

“I want my lawyer.”

I smile as I say it. Detective Morgan also smiles, looking down at the table before getting up. I’ll never forget how pleased she sounded.

“Guess that means I can’t ask you anymore questions.”

She gets up and walks out, and that’s the end of it. In all honesty, I don’t think she was looking forward to questioning a woman about the murder of her daughter’s rapist. After the detective left me alone, I was allowed to call myself the lawyer that I had in mind. This, of course, was a friend of a friend, a perfectly shady guy named Johnny Bertelli, who was, in the nicest way possible, a fucking scum bag. You see, I work as a project manager at a marketing firm, so I’ve met my fair share of good lawyers, but Johnny was the fucking best.

He made Johnnie Cochran look like an idiot. He was the kind of lawyer who laughed at the prosecution in court, and I needed him. So there i was, in the Miami Metro precinct punching a number I’d gotten off Google into a wall phone. I looked around the precinct as I waited for someone to pick up, and suddenly it was like I felt a pair of eyes on me. I turned around, and I saw a pretty timid, mild-mannered looking guy who seemed as if he’d been standing there trying to figure out how to get my attention.

But the strange thing was, he didn’t seem to want my attention, at all, actually. If anything, he seemed perturbed by the fact that I was looking his way. I looked over at him, not knowing what the fuck his story could’ve been. Miami’s a weird place, because in this moment, I realized the guy wandering the precinct in a Polo and khakis could very well be an employee. I looked at the guy, not knowing what he could’ve wanted with me as I struggled with the phone. Funny enough, he actually just wanted to be helpful.

“You gotta press pound,” he says quietly, “For the call to go through,” and I almost laugh.

I appreciate the odd moment, just thanking him.“Thank you.”

He just nods, and says nothing as he quietly retreats to wherever it was he came from. I took his advice, and sure enough, the phone worked and patched me through to Johnny’s office. I wasn’t quite sure at the time, seeing as I was obviously a bit preoccupied, but I felt that strange man’s eyes linger on me for a moment. Even as I turned around, I could sense his surreal sort of presence that he had. Sure, I was used to having men’s leering eyes on me out in public; it was hardly unusual. But this was different.

Like he was less looking at my body and flesh, but more so imagining what was underneath it.

*****

The next couple years of my life were eventful, to say the fucking least. Johnny of course advised me to take my case to trial instead of taking a plea, for obvious reasons; there was no way any jury was going to give me the maximum sentence, or God forbid, the death penalty. I was a single mother who stabbed her twelve year-old daughter’s rapist seventeen times. In the eyes of the public, I was practically a fucking hero. Johnny’s confident that any jury would feel sympathetic to me, despite the brutality of what I’d done. As he says, the facts are still there.

My neighbor, a weasley little creep named George Randall got me, and my Isabelle, to trust him, and took advantage of her in the worst way. Then she killed herself, because of what he did, and I had to find out through a note left on her desk for me to find. So, I went to George’s with an empty baking dish of his, and once he let me in, I whipped out the knife I’d borrowed from him, the same knife I used to use to cook for my little girl, and I made his stomach burst like a water balloon. At this point, I’d already chosen to show little remorse for the crime I’d committed, feeling perfectly at peace with the possibility of prison, or the death penalty.

But Johnny said there was probably no need to be too fearful of either. He’d even told me there was a possibility I’d just get a few years, and then parole, or something, and I wasn’t sure that wasn’t bullshit, but I also liked his confidence. The reality of it was, Johnny had made much worse people look way better. To him, my case was already closed. All I had to do was play the part of the grieving mother, which took no effort on my part. I had to wait almost a year for my case to go to trial, which I of course did outside of a cell.

This gave me enough time to get all my affairs in order, or so to speak. My job was okay for the time being, and I knew I’d probably still have it so long as I wasn’t convicted of murder, given my ‘years of dedicated service’. Things were going to be relatively fine, eventually, but for now, I was stuck being paraded around like a jester on some twisted apology tour for avenging my daughter’s death. I’m a pretty good actor, but even my patience has its limits. And maybe wearing my white So Kate’s to court wasn’t necessarily the best judgement call.

But Johnny, being more than worth the money I pay him, made it work. I walked into the courtroom with him, humble and graceful, and didn’t let my eyes linger so as not to appear guilty. But even then, I caught a glimpse of him in the room. The guy who helped me with the phone. He was watching my trial, probably just as a police department employee. Probably.

“Will the defendant please rise?”

I complied with Judge Willis’s request, with my trusty guard dog by my side. I remained dignified, my head held high, but not too high, of course, as the proceedings began.

“Miss Carvalho. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty, your honor,” I told him.

The damage was done. My fate rested entirely in the hands of twelve strangers, and for some reason, there was a thirteenth who seemed oddly invested in the outcome.

-

Part Two.

[heartfullofleeches]

OOOO moth darling? I wanna throw my idea in too. Maybe a super kind and caring goth moth darling? Especially when they look super menacing (bcus they wear hardcore goth fashion) but their favorite game is smthn like animal crossing or they like super relaxing hobbies. (Also adonis could literally suffocate in the big tittie from his goth partner.) I hope you see my vision. PLEASE.

[Yan Butterfly + Goth Moth Darling]

Adonis is so weak for Darling.... He probably sneaks invites them into the buildings/homes he cleans for his job especially if there's been a murder or the home owners had some decor he knew they'd like. Adonis makes a fair amount of money from his cleaning gig, even moreso on contacts that are more "under the table" ergo shady folks looking to clean up any evidence left behind - but he's always spending his cash on gifts he knows Darling will like because he knows their preferred style of dress ain't always cheap.

Darling tells him they don't need it, but how can he stop when they're so kind to him? Making sure he eats, takes breaks, sleep. Butterfly boy may have worked himself to death by now if it wasn't for them. The long, grueling hours are worth it so long as he gets to come home and rest on their soft, warm ti- pillows...

-

"Brought you some sandwiches. Nothin' special, grabbed them from that gas station around the corner, but I knew you had to have something since you've been here all morning. Promise I'll grab something more filling next time"

An angel....An absolute angel gifted from the heavens above. Here you were bringing him food and checking up on him, yet you had the gull to believe it wasn't enough.

"...thanks...." Adonis shyly takes the bag from you, tensing as your fingers brush against his. You gaze around the living room as he clumsily works to untie its strings. The couch, TV stand, and coffee table had all been pushed towards the far walls - dark stains embedded into the carpet close to where the legs of the table once stood. You crouch to get a better look.

"Is this...." Your voice grows quiet - barely a whisper as you extend your hand. "Where it happened?"

"M....Mhm..." Adonis mouths through bitefuls of bread and cheese. The sandwich wasn't the best, or worst thing he'd ever eaten, but knowing it came from you made every bite heaven. He had given you some details of the incident that had taken place. A burglary gone wrong resulting in the death of an innocent man. Nobody even knew he was gone until bills began piling up. Never had many friends or close family.... Adonis wasn't close with his parents either... If something happened to him... you'd probably be the first and only to notice...

"Adonis?..."

"Y...Yeah?"

The butterfly freezes as your arms fall around him, pulling him towards your chest.

"Promise me that no matter what you'll text me at the end of every shift you have. It doesn't matter how late it is...All I care about is that you're safe."

You actually care.... Adonis has always know that, but hearing you say it out loud even if muffled by his face smothered by your chest...He knew it was an inappropriate time, but it was hard not to obsess over the contact with every beat of your heart playing like a melody in his ear. An angel, his angel. His saving grace he'll never let go.

"I will... Every night... I promise to I'll let you know whenever I get home.. I promise."

"Thank you....."

Adonis looks down at his half eaten sandwich. "...My bosses said I could take anything I wanted. I think there's still some clothes in the closet still that you might like if you're interested?"

"Raiding a dead guy's closet wasn't on my list of plans today...but I think I have enough space in my schedule."

[twilightkitkat]

Ok so if technically there are 2 Logans alive in the timeline rn (which doesn't make sense thank you Marvel)

How do you think they would interact if they met each other

Assuming that Logan is still alive and just in Mexico or Canada hiding out, I think it'd be interesting as hell if he heard about a Wolverine dupe. Because he definitely didn't live in the city and judging from the rumors, they wore a yellow suit and had his signature tufted hair. ...Which he was very much not sporting right now.

Deadpool's Timeline is before the Westchester Incident so Charles isn't yet classified as a weapon of mass destruction, even if the government is definitely wary of him. Therefore, Logan could justify leaving for a bit to investigate these rumors (if just for old times' sake and for an excuse to check up on the X-men).

He expects them to be, like most things, incredibly fake.

Except when he does some digging... they don't seem to be entirely fabricated? One guy even showed him the scars from claw marks that looked identical to his own, but Logan knew damn well he wasn't in the area at the time. Much less infiltrating a drug ring.

He snoops around and hears rumors that this new Wolverine sticks close to Deadpool. That's... an interesting name. It's vaguely familiar, and something in him recognizes it, but he can't quite place where he heard it.

But the way people react to the name "Deadpool" is telling enough. Even people who are entrenched in the underground look around warily, as if afraid to give out too much information. People are hesitant to speak, fearful of the idea of him alone.

But Logan's nothing if not persistent. He settles down in a seedy bar where he knows shady business happens and listens. If this guy was as big of a deal as people act, he should pick something up.

Soon enough, the name pops up.

"I'm thinking of hiring Deadpool for this job, actually," some sleazy rich guy remarks as he leans back in his chair. Logan's senses lock onto the conversation immediately.

"Really? Isn't that a little excessive? You know how expensive he is these days," his companion replies.

"But there's a reason he's in demand. It's a two-for-one deal these days, you know," another person at the table adds.

"Exactly," the guy nods, "Deadpool is already a force to be reckoned with on his own, but with Wolverine? They're unstoppable."

"I once saw them fight," someone nearby pipes up, "it was terrifying."

"Deadpool alone is terrifying. Did you hear what happened to Francis?" someone murmurs.

By the end of the night, Logan has a rough idea of what he's working with. Deadpool seems to be a mercenary who's well-known for getting the job done for the right price, no matter how gruesome it is. He's also someone you'd hate to cross and who would stop at nothing to get revenge, which apparently became known after he killed some bigshot named Francis.

Deadpool was definitely... interesting, to say the least (it isn't often that a mercenary is feared more than major organization leaders) but it wasn't what he came for. No, the real piece of information was that his copycat seemed to hang around Deadpool. The two were inseparable, they'd said.

"The Wolverine" apparently showed up out of the blue one day and has been trailing after Deadpool ever since. The two seemed to be partners of sorts, and Wolverine never made any appearances in battles where Deadpool wasn't present. Rumors seem to be that Deadpool hired him or that he owed Deadpool a great debt, although some people who've encountered them whisper that they might be something much deeper. Lovers, almost.

Logan snorted. What was the point of someone dressing like him if all they were gonna do was run around with a mercenary helping on missions? No evil scheme, no grand imitation, and the guy didn't even make public appearances. Maybe he was just a fanboy or some shit.

Although he wasn't as wary anymore, something in him still felt the need to investigate further. And luckily, he knew who was going to hire Deadpool next and the job he was gonna give. All he had to do was intercept.

And so he did.

He turned into the alleyway to see some guy in a red suit and... himself?

It wasn't just a realistic copy. It was an honest-to-god clone. He smelled like him, looked like him, moved like him. He had adamantium claws like him and the exact same build. Except this guy actually fucking shaved from time to time and still kept his hair up.

"Ohhh, looks like we have a visitor, Wolvie," Deadpool chirped.

Wolverine shook his head, "Damn it, I told you he was gonna drop by to check on the rumors eventually. It's what I would've done."

"...Who are you?" Logan asked warily, tensing up.

"I'm Deadpool, as you probably already know, and this is you! Well, you from another universe. Say hi!" the man in red dramatically gestured to Wolverine, who grumbled in irritation.

"From another universe?" Logan crossed his arms.

"Yeah, bub. Believe it or not, I don't care. But we're not here to cause trouble, I'm just stuck with this lunatic here so there's two of us right now." Wolverine insulted him, but let Deadpool lean over to wrap an arm around his shoulder, whining about how he chose to stay here so he was stuck by choice.

It was... a lot to take in. Logan didn't really know how to feel about it. It was odd seeing another version of him so close to someone. He forgot what it felt like, to be like that with people. Hell, even when Scott and Jean were alive, he wasn't like that. He fucked off most of the time and they were happy to ignore him until something serious happened.

It was also odd to see another, apparently older, version of him look... so much younger. Well, younger wasn't the right word, but energized? Less depressed? He still had wrinkles on his forehead and a hardness in his eyes, but it was softer. Like he had something to live for and fight for. (Something Logan hadn't in a while.)

Somehow, the other version of him was both more and less jaded. He had a vaguely haunted look on his face when Logan mentioned the X-men, one even Logan himself didn't quite understand the depths of. He'd clearly been through some shit in his original world, maybe even more fucked up than his own trauma.

But it was like someone sanded down those jagged edges. Until they stopped cutting into him every time he sifted through his emotions.

(Logan never had anyone do that for him, not really. Jean cared, vaguely, but she prioritized Scott and was more focused on her own life than Logan's baggage. Charles cared too—he'd taken him in and made sure he had the necessities—but he had so many children that there was only so much attention he could give to a rugged stray. He didn't ever manage to file down his sharp ridges, he just kept cutting himself and hoping one day it'd get easier. That he'd get used to it.)

When he sees the soft look in Wolverine's eyes as he looks at Deadpool, Logan thinks he knows who's responsible.

[gotham-daydreams]

Warning long ask ahead I apologize in advance

Hi there :), I'm here to drops some angst

So you said that friend!reader does some shady buisness, and I imagine it takes a while for the whole turn yandere for reader takes a while to happen

So what if the batfam threatening them and interfering in their life so they leave the idol alone is what eventually pushes them that way?(They did it as the Wayne family, in this scenario reader doesn't know the identities)

As you said, they are the richest family in Gotham and can easily get you fired from your job, or expelled if you're in college

And let's say Barbara is the first to starting turn

Maybe it's when she just happens to be investigating some crime trough cameras and she come across reader, shes likely annoyed but decide to investigate anyway, she is still vigilantes after all

And that eventually leads her to finding out the reasons why reader doing it, because they need it to afford groceries, and they can't get a normal job because of her and the family

it wouldn't be immediately yandere but I feel like the shock of it would be a good Kickstarter

And to make it worse? The reader is not out for revenge, they are not plotting to kill someone or trying to ruin Wayne industries, they are just trying to afford food

She can deal with someone hating them and wanting to hurt them, but instead the reader pretends that they don't know them, either the Wayne's , or her own family

And that really digs deep , not just because of the batfam but because she knows that if reader were to ask Gordon for help, he would do so in a heartbeat

But reader won't, because they're afraid, afraid of the batfam hurting them, afraid of *her*

That stews in her head for a while, she remembered back when she still worked with her father, on how she wanted to help the criminals in Gotham, because a lot of them where people in bad situations pushed into this life by someone with more power, people like two face, penguin, black mask ,... And now her

Her younger self would be absolutely be disgusted by her right now

So Barbara steels herself and decides to help reader, she knows she can't go on person, reader would be rightfully too angry or too scared to listen to anything she had to say,

There nothing she could do as Barbara Gordon, but reader would be willing to listen to a text send to them by oracle

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

so yeah the idea is, Barbara starts talking to reader as oracle to keep them safe, and that eventually that turns into obsession, I had no real reason to focus on her, I just wanted to have someone different than the obvious Jason or Bruce

Also not gonna lie, the reason I mention Gordon in this is because I had the less angsty idea of Gordon helping the reader out of the bad situations like the batfam pins a crime on a reader and he's like "oh hold on you guys got this wrong"(he doesn't know it was intentional) and proves the reader innocent, so reader starts clinging to him and when the batfam eventually turn yandere their like >:0

Because the reader prefers the grizzled old detective instead of super cool vigilante group (warning the batfam might be biased)

YESSS!!!! I definitely see it! And honestly, the reason the reader does shady stuff in the first place is exactly as you said pretty much- they have no choice. They're living on their own, as their own sole provider, and have nobody to help them but themselves - and what's the quickest way to make money in Gotham? Especially semi-good money? Crime.

Not that the reader kills anyone or anything like that, they just do what they have to, but they still hold morals and such.

I will also say that how the Batfam becomes obsessed is through them just... not knowing much about the reader the more they think about it. Like, sure the reader would answer their questions they'd dismissively ask just for the sake of it and to keep appearances, but the reader wouldn't really give anything of substance.

Do they work? Yeah! Where do they work? Just as some shop What do they live? Somewhere in downtown Gotham/With a friend! What are they studying? You think they study?

And so on and so forth. Things to move the conversation along, but also not really give anything, y'know?

So it's through learning more about the reader (and outside of what they deem necessary to learn so that they have more leverage and such over them) and such, is a big part of their 'transition'/switch from the idol to the reader themself.

It sucks too because the reader wants to do something else, and is actively working towards being able to work a 'clean' job, but of course, since this is Gotham and they aren't rich by any means - it's hard to do that. It's hard to put themselves in a better position by themselves, especially considering their position.

They are terrified of the Batfam when they go out to do their shady stuff, just knowing that the vigilantes are lurking is enough of a fright, but the thought of facing them and the aftermath... that fills them with dread too, because they can't afford to get caught. They can't afford to get their lights knocked out, and be sent to prison. They're just trying to make their life better, and want to do it themself. To prove to themself that they can do this... and also not seem a certain way to their more well-off friends.

It's a struggle, and the Batfam, even before they begin to act malicious and everything - added to that by just doing their jobs and such at night. So with what goes down and everything... yeah, it doesn't help.

If anything, that first message from Oracle definitely freaks them the fuck out. It 100% takes them way too long to even open the message, expecting some kind of threat or something along those lines. A threat, or a promise against them - and so on and so forth. So you can imagine how they react when they finally see the message and it's actual contents.

Regardless, I love your input and seeing your thoughts!! It was an awesome read, I really enjoyed it :]

[tf-lover]

Commission - Undercover Truths

Interested in commissioning me? Check out this post for more information on rules and pricing.

Detective Patrick Walters had been in the game a long time. Having just hit 40, he was still in very good shape compared to a lot of guys his age. By this point he’d watched many formerly athletic colleagues in their youth grow lazy and spend more time behind a desk than in the gym, but not Patrick. He was still in the gym five days a week, working out to keep himself in top shape. He prided himself on it. Sure, most of the time you didn’t get dramatic chases like the movies showed, but there were occasions over the years where his athletic prowess had mattered. And besides, it wasn’t for the job. He stayed fit because he liked how it felt, even now into his 40’s he worked hard to keep his appearance as good as it could be for himself and the ladies he hooked up with.

As a seasoned detective who’d worked his way right up the chain from a new member of the force at 18, Partick knew what he was doing when it came to the job. Living in a big city there were always new cases being dropped on his desk. From murders to drug crime at the extreme end, there wasn’t much he didn’t know how to handle at this point in his life. 

This new case though, this one had been tough. Gang activity, but none of his usual sources had been at all useful, and any evidence he’d gathered so far was circumstantial at best. He’d been on the case long enough to know some shady stuff was going on; everything from drugs to disappearances had crossed his desk; but there was never enough hard evidence to back up his instinct that all the cold cases over the last few months were connected. He knew they were though. He could feel it in his bones, as nonsense of a notion as that was. 

So, as he saw it, Patrick only had one option left. 

“Absolutely not.” The precinct’s chief, a man Patrick had been friends with a long time named Simon, said when he put forward his idea. “Out of the question Detective, I’m sorry. I can’t authorise an undercover mission to investigate a hunch, as much as I agree these cold cases are odd and need a solution, we’ve got no proof the downtown gangs are responsible. Sending you in without a strong reason or proof of their involvement just isn’t something I can authorise.” Simon had an apologetic look on his face as he sat back in his desk chair. “I’m sorry Patrick, really. I wish I could help, but I just can’t authorise an op like this and you know it. Maybe taking some time off would help clear your head of all this? You barely ever use your vacation time, that I could quite easily approve.”

A small smile spread over Patrick’s face. “You’re right Sir, maybe I should use up some of those vacation days.” He turned to leave the office, but paused when he got to the door and glanced back at the chief. “Thank you Simon, really.”

“Don’t know what you’re thanking me for Pat, I’m just approving some vacation time is all.” Simon didn’t give any hint of anything showing through, but Patrick didn’t need him to. “Now get out of here, you’ve got some vacation time to enjoy.”

Patrick nodded and headed out of the office. He was lucky he’d known the chief as long as he had, he’d have missed the hint at an off books snoop around if not. Simon couldn’t approve a full on investigation, but if Patrick could come to him with enough evidence, officially or unofficially obtained, to link one of the downtown gangs then maybe he could launch something. He’d have to be careful though, since he knew there was no protection if he was caught; Simon would have to deny all knowledge and claim he went rogue. 

All he had to do now was finish off some paperwork then he’d be ready to head off for his ‘vacation’. One that, little did he know, was going to be far more life changing than he was expecting…

~~~

It’d taken a couple of days and a lot of phone calls, but eventually Patrick had found an in. He’d hung around the right places and managed to run into a former member of the largest gang in the city, one who let just enough information slip when Patrick had pretended to be someone the guy knew from the gang years ago. Act in the right way and you could get people to think you knew them from a long time ago, a skill Patrick had become fairly good at over the years.

Armed with the knowledge he needed, Patrick made his way to the warehouse district of the city after that conversation. He’d long suspected there was gang activity around these parts, but had never had enough specifics. Now was different though, as now he knew the rough area to check. There were only a few unused warehouses in the southern part of the district below the river, so one of those had to be the one he was looking for. 

The first one was a bust. Picked the lock and slipped inside, only to find stacks of rotting cardboard boxes, filled with products from a toy company he knew had gone out of business several years ago. 

The second of the three ws now in use he’d discovered. When he’d walked up there were a few workers loading furniture into the back of a van, and a quick conversation after pretending to be lost had revealed this definitely wasn’t the place he was looking for. 

All he had left was the third one he knew was abandoned. 

When he got there he was glad to see no signs of life like the second one. No signs of anything when he walked in, not even boxes stacked up like the first. He still had a good look around though, just to be sure he hadn’t missed anything. And he was lucky he did, as in one of the back corners was a hatch that had to lead down to a basement. As he descended the ladder down he could see a soft glow of some type of light and the sound of a voice, which meant he had to be in the right place. 

A few seconds later he stepped back onto solid ground to find himself in a short corridor with sets of doors along each side and one at the end. It was this end one that piqued his curiosity, as this one unlike the others was slightly ajar and was the source of the sound and pale glow. 

Partick stepped closer quietly and carefully, not wanting to alert anyone that might be inside. The closer he got though, the more he realised it wasn’t a conversation he could hear and wasn’t a light on he could see. It was the same voice saying the same words on a loop of several minutes, which meant the light was probably a TV playing a video on a loop. Why there would be something like that down in the basement of an abandoned warehouse he had no idea, but it was definitely suspicious enough to lead him to believe he was in the right place. 

Once he got to the door at the end of the corridor, Patrick hovered outside for a few moments to make sure he couldn’t hear anyone moving around. When he was sure he pushed his way into the room, gun held low and ready to fire if it came to it. As he suspected though, there wasn’t a soul in sight; only him, the TV as he’d guessed, and the rest of the small room. A table with clothes and a half used pack of cigarettes on, a shower in one corner, and the TV in the centre of the room with a chair in front. It was an odd set up to say the least, and not what Patrick had been hoping to find. 

“This is… What even is all this for?” Patrick mumbled to himself as he walked around. The most confusing part of it all was the fine layer of dust on everything, a sign no one had been here or touched this stuff in some time. “No one’s been here, so why is the TV on? I can’t have been left on for the same amount of time as this other stuff hasn’t been touched.”

With nothing particularly interesting laying around the room, Patrick turned to the TV. He’d largely ignored it until now, but with no other signs of a clue it was the only thing left. It was clearly pretty old, not one of the more modern flat screens by any means. It wasn’t playing anything in particular though, all he could see was a blank white screen that occasionally flickered to black when whatever was playing looped to the beginning. 

Welcome back home Lance, you’ve been gone a while.

The words the voice spoke struck some kind of chord within Patrick’s mind. He wasn’t this Lance guy, but somehow he knew instinctively he was the one being spoken to by the deep voice. A pause later as Patrick moved around to the front of the TV and the voice spoke again. 

Not saying anything? Figures. At least take a seat why don’t you?

Patrick sat down in the ratty chair without thinking about it. Not until he’d got comfortable anyway did he realise he’d just listened to what the voice said. It was like it was talking to him, but that wasn’t possible. Was it? 

“Who are you? What is this place?” He asked, his curiosity getting the better of him despite the logical part of his brain knowing he’d heard all this before in the background as he’d looked around the room. “Can you hear-”

We’re not having a conversation, I just know you well enough to know what you’re going to ask whilst you’re like this. I’m your everything Lance, I’ve missed you.

Missed him? How could this voice have missed him when he didn’t even know who it belonged to? Despite that, there was still a shiver of satisfaction as whoever this man was said that; Patrick was suddenly feeling like he had missed the man behind the voice too. It made no sense, but he couldn’t deny the feeling was there now out of nowhere. 

It sent a jolt of panic running down his spine and Patrick fought the urge to stay sitting in the chair like he’d been told. He wanted to run, get out of here and all the strangeness of this small, dark room whilst he still could, but something deep in his core kept him locked in place.

You’re probably panicking right now. Have a cigarette Lance, that always helps you calm down.

Patrick’s eyes flicked over to the pack on the table. There was a lighter there too he realised, all ready for him to grab and light up. Patrick had never smoked in his life, not even a slight puff on one as a teenager. He hated the things, could never see how someone would want to destroy their body like that. 

He was reaching over to swipe them up before he knew what he was doing. Slid one out of the pack, balanced it between his lips, then flicked the lighter with a practised ease and set the cigarette burning. Two fingers around the end by his lips to keep it steady, then one deep inhale later he felt that sweet, familiar rush of nicotine and a calm wash over him. Lance blew the smoke out slowly as he pulled the cigarette from his lips, letting out a content sigh as he did. He’d missed that feeling. 

Patrick blinked down at the cigarette in his hand as he was about to raise it back to his lips. What had he just done? For a moment he’d lost himself completely. No coughing after what he knew was his first time smoking; the ease with which he pulled one out a lit up wasn’t one he possessed; he definitely wasn’t familiar with the calming high he got afterwards. It wasn’t possible for him to be missing a feeling he’d never felt before, and he absolutely did not know where the momentary comfort with being this ‘Lance’ dude had come from. 

Again.

On reflex, Partick slotted the cigarette back between his lips and took another long, heavenly drag from it. Smoke filled him up, swirling around as he held it inside for a moment to enjoy the sensation before he let it back out in a lengthy blow. 

Comfort. Home. Relaxed. All those feelings swirled around with the smoke as he took drag after drag from the cigarette between Lance’s lips. 

Confusion. Panic. Fear. All those feelings left Patrick as he blew out the smoke each time. 

There wasn’t anything to worry about here, the cigarette had reminded him. He belonged here, this wasn’t some break in, he was just coming home. Each inhale of smoke he calmed down as the previously unknown itch for nicotine was scratched, each exhale Patrick felt more comfortable and at ease letting this voice call him Lance. It felt right, more right than Patrick felt as his name in the current moment. 

Once you’ve finished that off Lance you should get changed. Have a shower to wash off all that hair dye and makeup covering your tattoos, then your usual gym clothes are all there just as you left them. 

Lance looked over at the shower in the corner of the room. He could do with a shower after the long day, even if he didn’t quite know what else the voice was talking about. He ran a hand through his grey hair as he stood up and kicked his shoes off. It’d been brown once upon a time, but he’d never cared enough to dye it as he grew older. He’d never liked the way tattoos looked either, so why the voice thought he’d need to wear makeup to cover something he didn’t have was beyond him.

Nevertheless, he still switched the shower on then stripped quickly and stepped under the warm spray. It felt almost as good as the cigarette had, so much so he unconsciously turned the heat up higher than he’d usually tolerate. There was something about the almost scalding hot water as it rolled down his neck from his head, over his shoulders and down his torso, something that just felt right. There was a cloth and bottle he could only assume was shower gel, so he squeezed a generous amount into his hands and started rubbing it into his skin. Under his arms, over his crotch and between his ass cheeks, then up and over his shoulders and back into his hair, barely an inch of him was spared.

Once he was properly soaped up, Lance turned a little to place himself back directly under the spray and went to work washing it all off again. He barely noticed the grey colour that came with the suds in his hair, or the pinkish tint that sloughed off as he rubbed at his skin. Dark lines appeared the more he rubbed and cleaned, revealing dark tattoos and tanned skin all over his body, just as the voice had claimed. As he washed his hair he watched as some of it fell out and washed away down the drain, leaving it now cropped perfectly short to his scalp.

“When did I…?” Lance hesitated for a second as he stared at his inked flesh when the last of the shower gel had washed off. He didn’t remember getting tattoos… or did he? “Huh, yeah. That’s… that’s my ink. Missed seeing that on this job, maybe I’ll get more to celebrate being finished at last.”

“You did a great job getting into the police so deep Lance, I’m proud of you. Undercover work isn’t easy, but you’re done now.”

Lance smiled to himself as he stepped out of the shower and dried off. It was all coming back to him now. He wasn’t a cop or a detective, he was only pretending to be for the gang to throw off some of the stuff they’d been doing. He wasn’t this perfect Patrick Walters guy, that was just an alias they’d created for him. The memories of that life, growing up into some old guy like that, none of it was real. It was a backstory they’d planned out together. Even now he barely noticed as the memories slipped away, just the important details Lance had to memorise for the job sticking around. 

The location the voice was coming from had shifted too, but Lance was too preoccupied with drying himself off and grabbing his clothes to notice. It was clearer and closer to the door instead of sounding like it came from the TV in the centre of the room, not that it made a difference as Lance pulled on his favourite jockstrap and shorts. A tank top that showed off his muscles and tattoos followed, along with the necklace, backwards cap and earrings he always wore. 

He felt comfortable again now he’d dropped out of the disguise and got back to himself. How the stupid pigs had ever believed some shitty hair dye and makeup he hadn’t a clue, it wasn’t exactly a believable disguise. That and somehow passing for a man who just turned 40 when Lance himself had turned 28 only a few months before the beginning of this undercover stuff; the cops were really all as stupid as he thought they were. 

“How’re you feeling babe? Better to be back?”

The voice that was very clearly from inside the room startled Lance for a second before he looked up to see his boyfriend, who was also the leader of the gang he was part of, stood at the door. He had his arms folded over his chest and his signature smirk on his face, one that always got Lance’s cock throbbing.

“You know I am Raf. Been dying to be back in your arms for months.” Lance said as he strolled across the room. When he got close enough he untangled Raf’s crossed arms and pressed himself up against his lover, their muscled bodies snug together. “You got no idea how much I’ve missed you and myself, pulling off the straight older cop shtick was torture.”

Raf rubbed a hand over Lance’s shaved hair then let them slide down and settle around his waist. “I bet it was, but you’re back to normal now eh? Can get the hell outta here and get shit moving on the next phase. Now you’ve thrown them off us we can expand and take over the smaller gangs, become the big underground name around here. We’re gonna own this city thanks to you babe.”

Raf leaned in and kissed him then. Lance happily kissed back, letting his lover's beard scratch against his jaw as their lips slid together. It was more heavenly than the cigarette, which was something considering how much he smoked in one day. Not smoking or being with Raf had been the worst torture of his life, but it was all over now. He had his boyfriend back kissing him, his life back, everything. 

A few moments later the kiss ended and Raf slid out of his arms. He still held Lance’s hand tight as he pulled him out of the small room and pushed him back towards the ladder upwards, then let go so his lover could move. “You go on up Lance. I’m just gonna clear this place out, then I’ll come meet you up there and we can leave yeah?”

Lance nodded and grabbed hold of the ladder. “Sure thing Raf, I’ll see your sexy ass in the car for some hot sex yeah?”

Raf nodded and smirked again. “You bet your ass I will. It’s been long enough, I’ve missed the way you suck dick.” He watched Lance blush as the other man climbed the ladder out of the small basement, leaving Raf alone down there. He switched the TV off, grabbed up the clothes his boyfriend had taken off to get in the shower earlier, then walked back to the door. “Well Patrick, that sure went off without a hitch, didn’t it?” He said to the empty room before he locked it and headed off to catch up with Lance. 

Raf had a lot of fucking to do so he could make up for lost time, though whether that time was a few months or a lifetime was anyone’s guess…

[justevelynnnn]

“Mustard & Ketchup”

Summary: you’re a runaway mutant and you need a place to stay. you find one but is it worth the chaos?

Warnings: mentions of blood and knives, profanity, written with fem!reader in mind but could be gender neutral or male iyw

A/N: This has been in my drafts for weeks so I gotta get it out before the dust collects on it💀 not really proofread tbh..

You stared at the paper in you hand titled in big letters “Roomate needed” and sighed.

You were a mutant who couch surfed after running away from home. Cue typical tragic backstory stuff. Anyways, the last person found out what you were and you had to bounce. Now you needed a place to stay for cheap and quick. You had a job at some bar (that was a secret mutant friendly space) but it couldn’t really pay bills, let alone rent.

So after work one day, when you saw a roommate need flyer you grabbed it immediately. Under the title was an odd drawing of a ketchup bottle and a mustard bottle done in crayon with some red guy in the corner waving. Then under that was the following(also in crayon) : roomate needed asap. rent’s under $300. must be ok with dogs, blind old people, claws and blood. (Like lots of blood)

You sighed. It’s been a week on streets and sleeping on cold benches and that rent was enticing. Whoever made the flyer though was definitely either a child or someone extremely questionable but you definitely weren’t in any spot to be picky right now. Even though you were slightly turned away by the emphasis of “being ok with blood” (what the hell could that even mean!?!) Maybe you can save up while there and hopefully move out soon.

The address was at the bottom of the paper so you decided you’ll stop by in the morning.

The apartment actually wasn’t too far from the bar and the bench you claimed for the week was close to the bar also so after doing a quick freshing up in the bar bathroom you made your way to the apartment. It was decent enough…nothing shady..but nothing special either. The second you got to the door you heard screaming and a dog barking. Was this really the place?

Just when you were about to turn around and rethink this whole thing the door flung open. You gasped as a man with….spotted skin?? stood at the door with a knife stuck in the side of his head. He was bald and actually kinda tall? Notably, he also wore pink boxers paired with a my little pony shirt. No socks. Very odd sight to see and take in.

“Sorry, I think I have the wrong-“ you started but the man looked down at you holding the flyer and immediately exclaimed, “Oh! Logan! Someone’s seen one of the flyers I made! Oh, do come on in we were just having a friendly fight…”

All you could muster was, “Friendly?” As you glanced at the knife and blood in his shirt. Distracted, he successfully ushered you in the door as you were soon met with a small, old looking dog with its tongue hanging out. It barked at you and you jumped slightly.

“Oh, don’t mind her…he’s as sweet as pie. Well, maybe some really old and hairy pie but still sweet regardless.” The man said as he closed the door. “I’m Wade by the way.”

You smiled at the dog but soon turned to protest being in the apartment. It was quite the scene. You knew it was at least more than one person living here, not only because you heard arguing before the door opened but because of all the stuff. I mean, no way this was all him? Right?

“Hey, so, you know what…I dunno about all this…I mean..wow..” You looked around and soon noticed more blood, clothes everywhere, multiple bottles of alcohol , definitely a lot of knifes and..swords..? Half lit cigars? And why does the couch have 3 large claw marks in them? Surely, it couldn’t have been this dog.

Was that stuffed unicorn?

Wade noticed you concerned and sighed.

“You know this place was a lot neater a week ago, but let’s just say I recently adopted an alcohol addicted wolverine so everything has gone to shit. I mean, look at my head!” The man dramatically pointed to the knife. “He did this!”

You just laughed and backed up. Okay, now it’s time to really get the hell out. Of course, before you could move or even reply, soon entered another character. You watched a gruff, also taller but older looking man walk out. He was, too, covered with splats of blood.

“Speak of the devil. Hey, you got an apology yet, wolvie? Hm? Go on.” Wade crossed his arms and glared at the other man but the man just stared at you in confusion.

“Wade, who the fuck is this?”

Oh, this was awkward.

“I told you, someone saw our flyer! You never listen! Y’know, I’m starting to want a divorce!”

“Our flyer??”

“Well, I told you I was making one! Again, you don’t listen! You’re not being very mindful or demure right now!”

“What??????” Cue a head tilt which you found sightly amusing. “What the fuck are you talking about-….”

You decided to interrupt. “Um..yeah so if it’s gonna be a problem I can go….”

You started moving towards the door but Wade stopped you and said, “Oh, no no no..don’t let this meanie beanie weenie scare you away. This monster. This..this drunk!” Wade glared at him as the man rolled his eyes and looked away. “You’re welcomed to the family as of right freaking now!.”

The older man sighed and silently cursed as Wade sat you on the couch.

“Well, I don’t have anything other than this paper I guess..oh and my wallet and phone.” You decided you should also tell them the biggest secret you normally keep from others. That you were a mutant. Luckily for you, it was more hidden but it scared the hell out of the last person you stayed with so you wanted to get it out the way now. “Um…I should have you know, since my other folks didn’t like that i suprised them.. that I am a…y’know..”

You trailed off hoping he would get it but you quickly got your answer when Wade shouted, “A mutant!”

The old man glanced at you for a second as you fearfully watched their reactions but when the older man didn’t move and Wade hugged you,rather tightly also, you felt some relief.

“Me, too girlfriend…actually us two! It’s so nice to have another mutant friend. This whole thing is playing out just like my fan-fiction!”

“Us?” You asked ignoring the odd comment he made at the end.

“Means me.” The older man spoke up. “Name’s Logan.”

He waved once and walked up to Wade.

Logan asked Wade if he could speak alone and Wade told you to stay put as they went into another room. As you heard some back and forth going on you couldn’t help but wonder what mutations they could have. Maybe that explains Wades skin? And the fact he had a nice in his head, even now still, that didn’t seem to bother him. At first you just ruled him out as crazy but this makes sense too.

You were left alone for 5 minutes until Wade came back out.

“Okay, so, here’s the deal. Logan is being a big fat baby but I say you can stay on the account this is my place. We definitely need some extra hands around here so you can just stay on the couch. All the beds are taken right now unless you wanna share with me or Wolvie. And umm, do you already have a job?”

“Well, I work at the bar not to far from here…” You calmly replied.

Wade nodded “Great! Got another alcohol fan here, you’ll get along great with Mr. buns of steel in no time! He love alcohol, any kind, including the rubbing kind!”

Logan walked out the room again but immediately told Wade to “Shut the hell up.”.

“What?! It’s true! You do have buns of steel! And i literally saw you drink that rubbing alcohol-!”

Logan rolled his eyes again, sighing heavily as he grabbed a bottle of alcohol and sat in an armchair, turning on the tv.

You and Wade went over the rent, he mentioned the other resident, some older kind lady, and also explained when the trash comes. He kind of went over his lore and why he called a man a wolverine but it was all hard to follow.

“Wait, he’s an X-Man? Like comic book X-Man?” You said when Wade brought up Logan’s past.

“Oh, yes except it’s real in his universe and many others.. He’s actually the worst one but that’s just between you and me. However, he kinda makes up for it as he’s real good with those claws….” Wade winks but you can only tilt your head.

“God..-“ Logan grumbled as he finished the bottle. “Do you ever stop?”

“Not unless you beg for it.” Wade quickly replied but even quicker added, “No homo. Actually, full homo.”

Logan just stared in annoyance and focused back on the tv, shaking his head.

“Ok, well…why the ketchup and mustard on the flyer?”

“Oh, I just call us that. Cute little pet names.. yeah.. I’ll call him cutie patootie and he’ll call me a dumbass.” Wade sighed like he was reflecting on good times while Logan laughed out once. Wade soon adds, “I’m ketchup cause my suits red and I’m the more popular, more loved “condiment” anddd Logan is mustard because he can be more bitter and not as popular..I mean ask anyone reading this and most people would say they like ketchup more it’s a fact!”

Right after Wade finishes talking Logan throws a book at Wade’s head barking at him to shut up yet again.

“…We have fun here.”

“I see.” You looked around again at the chaos as Wade rubs his head and pouts at Logan. Wade asked if you could help clean this mess up. And any other future messes.. He said you could pay a bit less on rent if you did. You just agreed, having cleaned up worse at the bar.

You knew it was going to take some getting used to but you could make it work. On the bright side, you some what enjoyed Wade’s odd behavior. You wondered however, if Logan liked you but then again that didn’t matter either. You watched as the dog walked up to you, wanting to be picked up.

“Oh, look, it’s like she chose you! Like how beginning Pokémon chose their trainers…or, is it the other way around?”

You laughed as you picked up the dog.

“Well, thanks for letting me stay here.” You began petting the dog on your lap. “Don’t worry about me being here forever, I’m gonna try to save up and maybe give it take in 6 months I’ll be out your….um”

“Hair? Ha! It’s ok sweetheart, no offense. But you don’t have to worry about rushing out, I like you already and I’m sure Wolvie here does too right?”

Logan chugged the last bit of the bottle and just stared at Wade and you, sighing. With Logan’s face unreadable, Wade just laughed and said, “Give him time, most Wolverines start this way but they warm up in a few days at most a couple weeks….”

You just nodded like you understood and relaxed into the couch taking in your surroundings. Wade and Logan started to go back and forth again but you ended up tuning them out. Yup, this is your new life. Was it worth it?

You watched another knife fly in the air, barely missing you.

Maybe.

[greenswirls]

The Red Huntress but instead of developing a vendetta against Phantom she endures a fed up tirade from him about how hard it is to be the only competent line of defense against ghost attacks and actually manages to sympathize with him despite the terrible last days she's been having.

She sees Cujo and lets Danny explain that he's tried everything but he keeps coming back and has shown to really be a good boy too powerful for his own good, so he's trying to train him to behave while in the human world. And Valerie having a stronger character manages to get him to listen or scold him if only a little more.

Cujo still goes ham on axiom labs but Valerie is not gonna feel bad for the company that fired her dad over something that wasn't part of their deal, so go boy you need the exercise! Danny still tries to stop him but respects the pettiness. They end up sharing custody whenever he shows up.

Val still becomes the Red Huntress but whether or not she's friendly or just cordial to Phantom she recognizes that he's trying his best to help and she wants in on kicking the ghosts who are actually out to ruin lives. Somehow Vlad doesn't notice this, maybe mistakes some sparring as her trying to destroy him, so he sponsors her still and she plays along for the weapons and to keep an eye out for the sinister Phantom hating rich guy.

ALSO she ACTUALLY takes advantage of being sponsored by said rich guy to get her dad back on a good job. She still gets a change of heart regarding her popular "friends" and Fenton and his friends.

BUT!!

She still has an ongoing grudge, this time on the Fenton parents, for being the ones to create the portal and refusing to get rid of it despite the problems it's caused. Maybe the city hall lets them keep it for shady reasons and she leads campaigns about their irresponsibility as scientists and hunters to get the Fentons to deactivate the portal for good, which has been shown to be possible but they just turn it back on. She won't listen to Danny's self blame over the portal, your parents would have found the problem on their own and fixed it eventually man, you're not to blame here and what was that about you almost dying in there-

This could be the reason Phantom doesn't reveal his human half to her; maybe he fears she might reveal it to further her protests, maybe he fears she might hate his parents even more than from the campaign and their obsession with hunting Phantom and then too much time passes and it gets more awkward to bring it up and it stresses him out and plot plot plot...

[yuna542]

[1.]

~About Kooks and Pogues~

Pairing: JJ Maybank × Reader/Oc

Genre: Fluff, Enemies to Lovers, Smut, Angst, Drama, Action

Warnings: Alcohol, Mentions of Drugs, That’s it!

Taglist: Open

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: The Kook princess is back after a year after a family tragedy and reignites the war between Pogues and Kooks on Kildare. But she quickly realizes that after this year, nothing is the same as before. Lies, dark secrets from the past, and dangerous conspiracies sweep across Kildare, leaving her no choice but to work with the Pogues and her personal nemesis to find the truth and maybe even $8 million. A dangerous treasure hunt begins that turns her world upside down.

Notes: That’s a series I’m working on and off for like three years now. I hope you’ll enjoy it

……………………………………………………………

Ain't shady baby, I'm hot

Like the prodigal son

Pick a petal, eenie meenie minie mo, and flower

You're the chosen one

The music was loud, the sound of the sea was pleasant and the sun warmed the faces of the young people who were on the large beach of the Outer Banks. One of the typical beach parties was held there this Wednesday. The vacations had begun and so the beach was full of Teenagers, tired of sitting still all day in a grey classroom, eager to have fun and forget about homework, exams and pressure on choosing the right College.

You didn't understand the Outer Banks if you didn't know the structure, as there were distinct differences not only among the Outer Banks youth. While some needed three jobs to survive, others owned three houses.

The Pogues, as a group of young people called themselves, had organized the ongoing party and quickly the beach had been filled by young people of all background’s. With the warm weather, most of the Teen’s were magically drawn to the sea and on the small island there were not that much other options to party and spend the night.

"Stop it!" exclaimed Pope, as a cloud of herbal smoke was blown in his face by his buddy. Pope was the most intelligent of the group and sometimes really strange. But that didn't bother his friends. Quite the opposite.

The blond who was now laughing and taking another drag on the joint was JJ. He was an excellent surfer and the troublemaker in the group. In fact he got very often into trouble and loved to provoke. But his friends always helped him out of it. Literally out of anything.

John B toasted the girl sitting next to him in the sand. He was the free spirit and adventurer of the group. He always came up with new ideas on how they could pass the time, even if they were not always so legal.

The girl with the dark curls and sun-kissed skin was Kiara. She was the only one who did not come from a poor background, and even belonged to the richer families. Still, she much preferred hanging out with the Pogues and didn't care much about possessions and wealth. Instead, she was a do-gooder who preferred saving turtles over going shopping. She loved to smoke a joint on the large glazed patio of the Chateau, that has a view of the backyard and the marsh with the guys, instead of talking about the newest season of the new reality show with her girlfriends.

The four of them laughed and teased each other as they drank beer and gradually more and more people came to the beach to party.

"Guys, I swear it will be incredible! We should really go out and surf on the other side“, JJ started the same topic as the day before all over again. His eyes were filled with energy and he couldn’t sit still.

"No, that's way too dangerous. The storms there are unpredictable and in the end no one will find us if we get in trouble," Kiara fended off and Pope immediately agreed with her.

"That's the thrill of it, isn't it? Dude the waves are going to be huge for sure! John B, you're up for it, aren't you? Don’t let me down, Bro!“

It sounded more like a statement than a question. Waiting, he looked at his best friend, who took off his cap, then put it back on, a gentle smile on his lips. The freckles on his cheeks glowing.

"Well, I’m in. Sounds like fun."

"Nice!" escaped JJ, while Kiara just shook her head in annoyance. Then Pope suddenly raised his eyes and seemed to spot something at the edge of the dune. As JJ and Kiara continued to argue, John B also noticed what he was looking at.

"Guys, the Kooks!" he muttered, clearly annoyed.

"That's exactly what we needed..." sighed Kiara sarcastically, and JJ stood up, beer in hand, to get a better look. Already tense and ready to throw himself in a fight. John stood next to him while Pope and Kiara remained seated. Both were already dreading another confrontation between JJ and the hated rich Kooks.

"That's Topper and Sarah," John B stated, to which Kiara just raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms.

"Someone else is coming," Pope remarked, and sure enough:

Behind Sarah Cameron, the current Kook princess and her boyfriend, two more people appeared.

"That's Rafe, but who the hell is that girl?" now asked Kiara, stretching her neck curiously.

"I don't know, but she's hot," JJ muttered, staring with John B in the direction where the Kooks were now walking across the beach.

"Hot as hell," John B added overwhelmed, continuing to watch the girl.

She had raven black hair that fell in many small curls over her shoulders, shimmering like wet ink in the sun. Her skin was tanned and possessed a bronze glow. She was not particularly tall, but slender and of athletic build, so even Pope looked curiously in her direction.

JJ's gaze was still wandering over her body when she had already turned to face them.

"Isn't that Skylar?" gasped Kiara, who was now staring in disbelief.

"Sky Diaz?" asked John B, elbowing JJ in the side as the Kooks moved closer to get him to stop staring. Topper had an arm around Sarah while the new girl chatted boisterously with Rafe. Her unusual appearance made her stand out from the blonde Kooks, and her style of dress was also quite different.

She wore a plaid pleated skirt that reached halfway down her thighs and loose white top, barely covering her belly and slim waist, with her black bikini top peeking through. She looked like she had been pulled straight out of an 80's rock and roll movie. JJ instantly was reminded of those musical-films Kiara forced them to watch, in which all of the guys had ridiculous hairstyles but the women always looked mysteriously beautiful.

"Is that really her? Diaz moved to Nassau over one year ago, didn't she?" pondered Pope aloud.

"Maybe she's vacationing here?" speculated John B.

Kiara shook her head.

"No, not after everything that happened. You don't take a vacation on Kildare after an incident like that. She must be living here again."

Now the Kooks were within range and looking around. Rafe gave the Pogues a disparaging look and Topper also stared warningly at JJ. Up close, it was now clear that Skylar Diaz was indeed standing in front of them. The amber eyes and full red lips were unmistakable. Even though she had changed considerably and her figure had become more feminine.

Even back then Sky had been pretty, but now they could see she had grown into a unbelievable beautiful young woman. JJ always hated the fact that she had everything. She was rich, adored and freaking beautiful. It wasn’t fair.

"Looks like you're going to have to give up your throne again, Cameron!" now JJ called out to Sarah, who just rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"The same rats as before," Rafe remarked, pointing at the Pogues as if they were animals behind a glass in the zoo.

Sky smirked mildly and regarded the Pogues briefly. Her gaze lingered a second longer on the cheeky blond, and it was then that she recognized him.

"What are you doing back here?" now asked Kie coolly, who had now also stood up. Back then Sarah, Sky and she had been best friends. But then she had moved away after the incident and the friendship between Sarah and Kie broke like thin glass.

"I'm living here again. My stepfather found new work on Kildare," she explained tersely, trying to ignore JJ's piercing gaze.

However, he put on an uninterested expression. Yea she was fuming hot and seemed to be even more confident and charming, but after all, she was still a stupid Kook. Her family was even richer than the Camerons and she was even more arrogant than all the rest thrown together, so she had been the leader of the Kooks back then and JJ's personal nemesis. The hatred between the Pogues and the Kooks had been current before, too. All Kooks thought the Pogues were filthy scum and the Pogues had the same opinion of the rich Kooks.

She tossed her hair back and turned around without saying another word to them. As if they weren't worthy of her attention. Then she walked over to the rest of the Kooks and was greeted with delight.

The evening took its course and there was drinking, laughing and dancing. Music blared from several speakers brought in by a couple of Kooks.

The sun beat down mercilessly on the sand, so that it was still warm even when it had long since sunk into the sea like a long lost wreck.

The Pogues were chatting animatedly with others from the Cut and JJ was drinking with a couple of tourists. A typical evening, as it had been so many times before, but the arrival of the Kook Princess, the royalty of Kildare, soon stirred up more than just a lot of sand, and JJ had a feeling that this summer was not going to be as ordinary as they had originally thought.

⬇️

© Yuna542 - all rights reserved.

[psychrodraws]

going insane thinking abt the entire main plot of PLA and this poor kid who was abused by everyone through it all.

warning for ramblings and unfiltered thoughts

Man, the whole plotline of this Pokemon game for children is just... heartbreaking, man. Put yourself in the player's shoes for a second and really think about this.

You land face first into the sand on the shores of some village, and you're instantly put into debt by them graciously deciding to not let an amnesiac 15 year old stumble into bear infested woods and die. Everyone is scared of you and you're beaten over the head with how you're a shady freak that no one likes or wants around unless you're useful to The Galaxy Corps. God, I can only imagine the tears the poor kid shed that first night.

You bust your ass and risk your life for the vague cause of "seeking out all Pokemon," because... a funny looking piece of glass told you to. It's literally all you have in this world besides the weird alien freak clothes your weird alien freak ass landed on that beach with. By the way never wear those freak clothes again, you'll wear our clothes, you're with us now- not one of us, god no, no one here likes you. But keep doing your job and we'll probably feed you.

"That hole in the sky you fell out of is making other Pokemon go insane and pose a threat to the natives of this land, so we're making it your job to help them. Yeah, they like, hate hate us, but we made sure to tell them you're connected to the weird sky hole making their lives worse, so they'll hate you most of all. :)"

You keep grinding away at these tasks, blinding chasing the mere chance that maybe, just maybe, you can learn SOMETHING about, about anything, if you just keep handling these frenzied Pokemon, keep researching Pokemon, you have to, it's all you have, it's all you've been told to do and it's all you know anymore. Every day you go out, help people with all your heart has to give, fight with all your body has to give, and every night you come back to the village where your boss desperately needs to remind you how much of an outsider you are, no matter what you do.

Well, at least that twink is nice to you. You do buy stuff from his guild, and he's a little autistic for the ruins you find yourself stumbling around. He even taught you a sick trick on how to surprise and capture Pokemon when they're at their most vulnerable! Waow!

Oh hey, a cute girl moved in next door. From the Diamond Clan you say? They're not the biggest fans of the Galaxy Corps, but she's being welcomed with open arms. She must be doing something vitally important to get such a warm welcome, I mean, everyone hates you and you research Pokemon for god's sake, what could she b- oh. hairdressing? okay cool.

Anyways, it's time to trek to the place in Hisui closest to the weird alien freak hole you fell out of. I wonder how you didn't die from that. Wouldn't that have been something if you had?

Oh hey, that guy also fell out of the freak hole! you're freak hole friends oh my god!!! Yeah man, you only remember your name too, and what a Pokemon is yeah! Yeah dude it sucks, but he must've had such a rough time, I mean you're just a kid and you've been put through the ringer, how's this guy even ALIVE in thi-

He... he was found by the Pearl Clan? and they... they let him stay because he was pretty good with Pokemon...?

...

You're pretty good with Pokemon... Wonder what it would've been like, if you had woken up that day, stuck in a snowbank or in the thick marshland reeds... and not that damn beach...

So, good job defusing the bomb, now go fight the literal, actual, genuine fucking living mountain. No that's not an exaggeration. It's really that big. Watch out for the death lasers kid!

But you've done it! You've proven yourself time and time and timeandtimeandtime again that you can, in fact, do things!!! You can quell frenzied lords, you can teach people about the true nature of the wonderful world they live in, you can be an asset! You're so useful! You're so, so useful, and now you can devote all that usefulness to the Pokedex! The native clans even like you, well, the leaders are at least! And that haircutter girl hasn't slit your throat while she worked on you, you never gave her a reason to but with the way things have been going it wouldn't surprise y- oh my god what was that sound.

Oh it's the end of the world.

"Not to worry bossman!! I'm on the case, this is nothing I can't hand- oh sorry what was that. Oh hi Adaman, hi Irida, what's good? Yeah end of the world, bossman wanted to talk to me. Uh-huh. Okay... Ah, okay. Ooooh, the fact you're not chaining me up is mercy, is it? I am Fifteen Years Old. :("

Okay, well, you're homeless. No worries, though! You've proven yourself to both clans of Hisui a collective... Kleavor, Wyrdeer... Basculegion... Electrode... Avalugg... 10 times now!!! They're sure to lend a hand in your time of absolute crisis, when you need help more than anything! Hi Lian, hey look, things are going to shit and- yeah man yeah, uh, yeah the, the rift. Yeah the rift you fell out of. Oh, no one trusts you? Not even he does?? He's the first person you helped and he immediately blames you??? Whatever man, you're gone. yeah, yeah, no one trusts you, you know dude, thanks for the goddamn reminder. He'd like to help you, but it'd put a "target" on the Pearl Clan...?!

Same story with Mai. The people you've been working for so relentlessly sure do seem to have more of a grip on this region than you anticipated. Well, at least she left you with some words of encouragement instead of a reminder that God hates.

It's over. You have no home, nothing but the Pokemon by your side and the moldy berries in your pocket, and no one wants to help you. Not even that cute hairdresser girl! You spent so much money getting your hair done and redone just to see her... Guess it's time to allow yourself to be eaten by that Alpha Rapidash... HUH?!

Twink!!!! Blonde twink, you're here to- to help?! Genuinely help?! That joke about his main priority being the fact you're his customer was really not fucking needed at this time man but

but oh it’s such a relief!

So this is the place you’re hiding out, huh? Hey Volo, who’s the older lady friend you exclusively call “Mistress” who looks nearly exactly like you? No time for that, Adaman and Irida are here! One of them’s gonna help you in secret, I guess so bossman doesn’t like, pillage their settlement and kill them or something??? Have they always been this afraid of the Galaxy Corps or… whatever, Adaman’s cuter so go with him!

Ah, gotta hunt down three lake guardians, huh. One reminds you that everything you do is pointless and frustrating, one directly asks you how being sent to die felt, and the last one… makes you do math! Messed up.

Anyhow, we’ve got the red chain, so whatever’s gonna come through that hole is gettin’ tied up! Oh, bossman is going up there to fight it himself?! He’s gonna, he’s gonna DIE if we don’t act fast?!?! …you think your Samurott ate some of your moldy berries he has a tummy ache can we let him rest :( no you need to stay and cuddle him it’s the only way he can sleep really :( 

Okay, okay, let’s go and deal with God or whatever. Hi bossman, oh you need to go through him, okay boom done now let you at God, you have some words for Him. Oh that’s not God just a god, okay let’s use the chain to- uh-oh, okay, old fashioned way! Catch that god of time in a wooden ball real nice, now if they’ll excuse you, there’s a lonely older woman in the woods who could use some- there’s another what coming out of the rift behind you?

Okay, no one died (sad!) and Irida somehow picked up the remains of the chain, despite being in the back of the group, good work??? Yes bossman, you agree, he was a giant stupid piece of-

"A dependable attitude indeed. Yes, let us move on. No need to speak any further about my rash actions. Not to mention my loss of composure..."

"It seems that having <player> about has been a good influence on all."

WOAHWOAHWOAHWOAH ARE WE REALLY NOT GONNA TALK ABOUT ANY OF THAT. DO THEY REALLY EXPECT YOU TO JUST GO BACK TO BEING A PART OF THE GALAXY CORPS SO EASILY?! TO OVERLOOK EVERYTHING THEY DID TO YOU, THE HORRIBLE WAY THEY TREATED YOU, THE THREATS THEY’VE MADE TO YOU AND THE PEOPLE AND POKEMON OF THIS LAND?!

Well the plot demands it, so, you will!!!!! Go drag out the last hour of this story to make a fancy ball, go catch the other guy at rift, peace at last.

Whatever, man. At least the blonde twink still has your back. He wants to go collect those plates you were incidentally coming into possession of! Sounds fun, let’s go! You need a nice, fun adventure with an actual friend, who wasn’t afraid to put himself at risk for you. Things are looking up!

…

…

…

…

…

Oh my god.

[in1-nutshell]

Hello! I read/saw one of your writings (Steeljaw and his pack reaction to Bot Buddy with the personality of Perrito from "Puss in Boots the Last Wish") and you did a good job and I love it!

If it's okay can you continue or do this same request with other Steeljaw's (previous) pack members, as well?

Also Thank you!!!

Let's see what other horrors Buddy will unleash on the unsuspecting Con's.

Steeljaw and pack reaction to Bot Buddy with the personality of Perrito from Puss in Boots the Last Wish (continuation)

SFW, platonic, Cybertron/ Bot reader

Scowl

Scowl stumbled quite literally on Buddy.

He was going to go to what seemed like an abandoned lot. He wacked a bin when he heard a yelp.

Surprised, Scowl went to the bin and saw a mini con pop out.

"Oh! Thanks for the help friend! I've been stuck there for a bit. Steeljaw wanted some more steel beams so I was trying to get some, but I got stuck! So, thank you again!"-- Buddy

"... Umm you're welcome?"--Scowl

He helped Buddy out a bit after seeing their pitiful attempts to drag any of the beams.

Scowl ended up bonding with Buddy while getting the materials for this Steeljaw guy.

That being said...

He gets attached really quickly.

Buddy is just so small and fragile looking. If he'd sneeze he was sure he would send Buddy flying back a couple yards. Scowl was bigger, stronger, and much bulkier than they were.

As much as he hated to say it... He has to remember how Grimlock handled smaller things.

He was not prepared for the untold backstory Buddy had to tell. He doesn't know what was worse. Hearing the story or hearing it in such a casual form.

"Wow! You're so strong Scowl! You remind me of one of my friends. He was so strong that he put a ton of scrap metal on me! I found a pretty slab of ions from that day!"--Buddy

"... You're friend... They tried to bury you?!?!"-- Scowl

"Yeah! But I'm telling you the slab was the prettiest thing!"--Buddy

Scowl has told Buddy if someone hurts them, to let him know so he can pay them a visit. That bot will be nothing but scrap metal when he's through.

Drag Strip

Drag Strip has had his fair share of peculiar friends.

Look at Wildbreak.

He met Buddy while trying to look for Wildbreak and the others. And he might have had another incident with ice again. Thank goodness it was just his pedes.

Bad news was it was his pedes. He couldn't exactly move well.

Enter: Buddy

"Hello! Wow you seem to be in a bit of a pickle!"--Buddy

"Yeah I know... Why don't you pass me that crowbar over there?"--Drag Strip

"Sure thing friend! Hey after this you want to go out for a drive? I know the best spots around here and the best shady parts too--"-- Buddy

"...what did I get myself into..."--Drag Strip

The next thing he knows Buddy becomes a third shadow. Second being Wildbreak. He is starting to think that he might attract weird bots.

Drag Strip is unnerved hearing some of Buddy's backstory. It's not something he expected.

You're so lucky you have friends that stay with you all the time Drag Strip."--Buddy

"I guess, but he can be such a pain in the afterburner,"-- Drag Strip

"Maybe, but I have to follow my friends everywhere. They usually end up running. They like playing tag a lot of the time."--Buddy

"They run from you?"-- Drag Strip

"Yeah, but I always find them eventually. Where are you going?"--Buddy

"I need to tell Wildbreak something."--Drag Strip

He is ready to throw down with anyone who decides to treat Buddy like a lesser bot. Drag Strip makes sure that Buddy is either with him or Wildbreak at all times.

Wildbreak

Wildbreak was looking for Drag Strip when he found Buddy.

They had gotten separated when the Autobots had ambushed them.

He ended up under an abandoned bridge when a storm came by. It had started thundering when he felt something touch his pedes.

"Excuse me? You're kind of crushing my tail."-- Buddy

"What? Oh! I'm sorry!"--Wildbreak

"It's okay! I don't like the storms either."--Buddy

"...It gets too loud..."--Wildbreak

"You can hold me if you want. I'm trained in the arts of therapy cuddling."--Buddy

"No I'm --"--Wildbreak

CRASH!

"... You sure you don't mind?"--Wildbreak

"Not at all. Just don't dent my armor too much."--Buddy

"Right, sorry."--Wildbreak

After that night, Wildbreak is now best friends with Buddy. Even after they find Drag Strip, Wildbreak doesn't leave Buddy alone. If he is going somewhere, Buddy is going with, and he doesn't mind at all.

His spark breaks when he hears some of Buddy's backstory. He could never imagine his friend in these scenarios.

"You have so many stories Wildbreak!"--Buddy

"Yeah it's been a crazy time. But bots like Drag Strip make things a bit better."--Wildbreak

"Oh! That reminds me a story! One time a had this friend who put me in a box and, and threw me off a bridge! It landed in the acid wastes, but I got out of there before it landed in the acid. I saw the prettiest sunset that day. And --Wildbreak are you crying?"--Buddy

Wildbreak full on sobbing holding Buddy close.

"...no ..."--Wildbreak

If anyone came near Buddy with intention to harm, it is on sight. Wildbreak is ready to drop kick anyone who comes near Buddy. No one is going to hurt them while he's around.